#but the worst part is when i accidentally set off an alarm and have to FIGHT FOR MY LIFE for 50 seconds

[enlichened]

i cannot handle horror games and bioshock is turning out to be horror lite and its GETTING TO ME

[mytherapyisreading14]

Drunk Confessions

Summary: You got drunk during a night out with your best friend and accidentally send your Professor a photo of you in lingerie. Now you try to avoid him, which is not really working.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Category: Smut (18+ MDNI)

Warnings: alcohol consumption, dirty talk, dom!spencer, semi-public sex, hair pulling, thigh riding, spanking, fingering, praise kink, multiple orgasms, oral sex (kinda, he comes in her mouth)

Word Count: 4,6k

Author’s Note: My last posts got so many likes, I didn’t expect that at all, thank you sm!! <3

Your alarm goes off - 8:30am. You groan. Your head is pounding and the sun shining into your room is just way too bright. Your stomach turns and you close your eyes to escape the wave of nausea. You slowly sit up and search for your phone on the nightstand. It feels like your head is going to explode. You reach out and unlock the screen, turning your alarm off.

It's way too early. And you drunk way too much last night. It was a chaotic but nice yesterday, a night full of laughter, way too much alcohol and karaoke. Your best friend celebrated her birthday and you promised to go to your favorite bar with her. You have to smile when you think back to the night and start checking your messages. You see that she already texted you this morning to find out how you are doing.

How are you?

I have the worst headache after last night

It was fun though, wanna go again tonight?

Just kidding, I feel like I need a week to recover from this

You can’t help but laugh and answer her quickly. You are about to put your phone away to finally get ready when a new chat catches your eye. You freeze in shock. It’s your Professors name. The one you’ve been crushing on since you saw him for the very first time.

Back when you found out that you were getting a new professor, you didn't expect much, a lecture like any other with someone who was only concerned with reciting his material. But then he entered. He came through the door and for a moment it seemed as if time stood still. The room, which had just been immersed in the murmur of conversation, suddenly became silent.

He was tall - taller than you expected and his presence filled the room in a way that you couldn't put into words. He wore a simple but elegant suit that somehow effortlessly fit him perfectly. His hair was a little longer, curly and fell slightly over his forehead. And then he looked up. His big, brown eyes met yours and in a split second everything became clear to you. You immediately knew you wanted, needed, this man.

Now you stare at the chat in complete horror. He recently gave you his number for a project. That's how this whole texting thing could even happen. Your heart is pounding in your chest. Obviously you can't remember texting him. You were so drunk yesterday that you can't even remember how you got home.

You open the chat - and your heart stops for a moment. It wasn't just a message that you sent him. It was a photo. Of you, in lingerie. It’s one of your favorite sets, you got it a couple of weeks ago. "I wore this for you today, Professor. Do you like it?�� You wrote in addition to the photo.

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. You just stare at the screen, the picture of you that you should never, ever, ever have sent. And the worst part: He read it. But didn't reply. Confusion and panic spreads through you. You jump out of bed, your feet barely finding purchase on the floor, and your heart keeps racing. You try to think clearly, but your thoughts are a complete mess.

You reach for your phone again and frantically tap on the chat with your best friend, but you pause and call her instead. "Hello?" Her voice still sounds sleepy and hungover. “Oh my God, I need your help!" you gasp and immediately start telling her everything.

The line is silent, then you hear a short laugh. "Wait a minute... what? You did that?" You close your eyes and search for the right words. But before you can say anything, it hits you like a blow. You also have a lecture with him today.

"I’m not coming today," you tell her. “You can't just cancel!" she says immediately, and you hear her getting herself settled in her bed. Her voice sounds determined, but also worried. "You know how it is, our seminar today. We can't miss it. We said that celebrating wouldn't stop us," she says. "Celebrating isn't what would stop me either. Seeing him definitely is," you say and lean back with a groan.

You close your eyes and sink even deeper into the pillows. Your stomach clenches when you think about it. She’s right, You really have to go today. But the text, the picture that you sent him - what if he wants to talk to you about it? Or worse, he reports the whole thing?

"I can't just sit in front of him today and pretend that everything is normal. I sent him a picture of me in lingerie... I can't face him. It's just... it's just too much!" There is silence on the other end of the line for a moment. She still hasn't said anything, and you know she's thinking. Then you hear her take a deep breath.

“Okay, the thing with the picture, that's really... a little crazy. But hey, you can skip the lecture. Just disappear after the seminar and then hide in your apartment. Or you can go and hope that when you run into him, he'll do completely different things after you seeing this photo. I bet you looked hot, was it the new set you recently bought?” she asks and you can hear her grin even though you're on the phone.

Obviously she knows about your crush on your professor. You couldn’t stop talking about him after your first lecture and she took every opportunity to tease you about it. You look at your phone as if it were the only thing that could help you think clearly. Of course she's right. You have to go to your seminar. And you can really skip his lecture. Still, the idea that he might be thinking about it makes your heart beat faster and not just in excitement.

“You're right, I... okay, I'll come," You say after a short pause, but the thought of maybe running into him still makes you nervous. “You'll see, it won't be as bad as you think. You'll get through the seminar, it's only an hour. And then we'll be out and we can take our time for everything else. And you'll just avoid your favorite professor today," she continues to teases.

“Today? More like forever," you mutter and finally get up, even though the thought of getting out of bed still paralyzes you. “See you soon then. I'll shower and get dressed now, then I'll come. Let’s meet outside the building, okay?" you ask. "Sure!" she calls out happily. "See you soon and don’t forget to wear another fancy set for your professor today. Just in case you run into him,” she jokes.

After you hang up you put the phone on the pillow and stand there for a moment, your legs heavy, your head still about to explode. But then you take a deep breath. It'll be fine, you just have get through the seminar. With a sigh, you go into the bathroom and take painkillers first. Then you start getting ready.

You turn on the water and let it run hot. A short time later, you go into the shower. The hot steam envelops you and slowly your body feels a little alive again. The nausea subsides and the hangover becomes more bearable. After the shower, you get dressed in peace - black skirt, a comfy sweater and your favorite sneakers. You quickly walk through the apartment again to make sure you packed everything and when you leave the house, you somehow feel less like a wreck.

-

The smell of freshly served pasta is still in your nose as you say goodbye. You got lunch together after your seminar and it was nice to get a little break and talk about everything that happened. Now you are ready to leave but you still have to go to the library to get a book that you need for your upcoming assignment first.

“I still have to go to the library," you tell her, pulling your bag over your shoulder. “Are you coming with me?” you ask her. “I’m sorry, I have to pick up my sister now. But be careful, you don’t want to run into your favorite professor, or do you?” she teases again. “I’m not going to run into him. I’ll hurry up and leave immediately. I’ll call you later. See you tomorrow," you say and give her a quick wave before you set off.

-

The campus is full of students rushing through the halls, carrying their books around or sitting in groups and discussing. You slip into the library and head straight to the section where the book you need is. Unfortunately it’s at the top of the shelf and you realize that you probably won't be able to reach it. You jump up a few times, but the distance between you and the book just seems too big. You sigh. If only you were a little taller.

As you attempt the jump for the third time, you suddenly feel a presence building behind you. One that seems familiar. Your heart beats faster and a nervous tremor takes hold of you. You turn around and stare straight into Professor Reid's eyes. He is standing just inches away from you and you can hear the soft sound of his breathing.

The look he gives you is almost piercing - warm, but somehow also searching. He leans forward slightly without saying a word and effortlessly grabs the book with one hand. You avoid his gaze as he hands it to you. “Thank you," you murmur, trying to hide the slight nervous tremor in your voice. He nods and stands still for a moment.

"You weren't at my lecture today." You stare at the book in your hands and feel your stomach clench. This is not good. “I..." you take a deep breath. "I haven't been feeling so good. My head..." He waits, his eyes still fixed on you, and you get the feeling that he wants to hear more. You feel his gaze on you and when you finally raise your eyes to look into his eyes, there is a silent understanding, and for a moment you wonder if there’s more. “Sick, or...?" he asks calmly. You hesitate and bite your lip.

"I went out partying with my best friend yesterday, it was her birthday… we drank a little bit too much and... well, I'm not feeling so good today. That’s why I skipped." His expression remains neutral, but something in his gaze changes. You can hardly believe it, but it's almost as if he's interested. He frowns slightly. "I understand," he then says. "But it's not ideal to miss class, especially when important topics are involved."

You nod. “I know, Professor. I won’t happen again.” You just want to get out of this situation, and as you try to take a step back he stops you. "No, wait. I need to talk to you." You pause and turn back to him. "About what? I don’t really have the time -" you begin, pretending you don't have any idea what he wants to talk about, when he cuts you off.

"Doesn’t matter, it’s important. We'll sort it out in my office." His gaze is intense as he steps towards you. The thought of him asking you to come to his office makes your heart beat faster. The idea of ​​being alone in a room with him is tempting. "Okay," you say quietly, unable to prevent a nervous tingling from spreading in your chest. You follow him, even though your legs feel like they're made of jelly.

He leads the way, his steps calm and determined, and you can barely keep your eyes from lingering on his back. As soon as you reach the door to his office, he opens it and lets you enter first. You step in, your heart now beating loudly in your ears. The moment he closes the door behind you, you realize that it is more than just a conversation about the seminar.

The look he is giving you now is not the look of a professor. It is the look of a man who wants more than just academic discussions at this moment. And the thought that you’re alone with him in this room inevitably leaves you nervous and intrigued at the same time.

As the door closes behind you, you’re left breathless for a moment. His office is quiet, almost too quiet, compared to the crowded hallways outside. The room is sparsely decorated, except for the desk covered with stacks of paper and a few personal items. He is still standing at the table, his arms loosely folded in front of his chest and looks at you.

"Sit down," he says calmly, pointing to the chair on the opposite of the desk. You hesitate, then finally sit down, your heart pounding in your chest. The nervous energy inside you grows as you try to organize your thoughts. Before he can say anything else, you can’t hold it back any longer. The words come out of you hastily, almost in a rush, and you feel your body tense.

"The picture, it was a mistake! I didn't mean to... It wasn't meant for you. I was drunk, and it was stupid of me, really. I'm sorry." You look at the table, avoiding his gaze. But as you say the last words, you immediately notice how the atmosphere in the room changes. He remains silent for a moment, but then his body language shifts slightly - his gaze becomes more intense, the tension between you almost tangible.

"Hmm," he says after a pause, his voice deep and calm, "so the picture wasn't meant for me?" You flinch when you hear his question. What exactly does he want to hear? What does he want to know from you? You try to stay calm and answer hesitantly.

"It... it's none of your business." His expression hardens instantly. "It is," he says, and his voice sounds sharper, more determined now. "Because you sent it to me." Your heart beats faster as he continues. "I don't think it was an accident, even if you were drunk. You wanted to send it to me. And you did."

A cold shiver runs down your spine. You open your mouth, trying to say something, but you can't find a way to defend yourself. Instead, you just stay still, looking at your hands, which are resting nervously on your lap.

He laughs quietly, a mocking, almost challenging laugh. "So you're really sure it was an accident, huh?" He slowly leans forward, rests his hands on the table and looks straight into your eyes. The look in his eyes has changed, and something in his expression shows you that he is the one in control.

"Do you really think I haven't noticed how you look at me in class? How you keep watching my hands? How you press your thighs together when I approach you?" His words hit you and you freeze for a moment. Your cheeks burn hot, you feel your heart pounding uncontrollably, but you keep quiet. Everything inside you screams to defend yourself, but you stay silent because you know he’s right.

"I noticed from the beginning, angel," he continues, and a shiver runs down your spine. You can’t believe he just called you that. It turns you on immensely. "I know you didn't just do it because of the party and the alcohol. You also sent it to me because you wanted to." He leans further forward, his presence overwhelming, and you can't help but feel small even as you try to assert yourself.

You open your mouth to say something, but the words stick in your throat. What could you say? That he's wrong? That would be a lie. “You sent it to me," he repeats, his voice now almost like a command. "Because you wanted to show me. And I don't think it was an accident. You were drunk, yes, but you wanted me to see you like this."

Your body is paralyzed. It feels like the room has suddenly become smaller. You can hardly breathe. His words and his look have completely captured you in that moment. “I... uh," you begin, but the thought that he is in control, that he sees you like this at this moment, leaves you speechless and you’re unable form a proper sentence.

He remains silent, only his eyes continue to focus on you. "You have to understand that you can't just play with me like that." His gaze becomes more intense, and for a moment it seems as if he wants to say more but then he slowly stands up, walks around the table and stops right in front of you.

"I'll show you something," he says in a calm but unmistakable voice. "And you will understand why it wasn't just an accident." Your heart beats faster. His hand reaches for your chin, lifting it up and tracing his thumb over your bottom lip. Your breath hitches and you lean closer, craving his touch. “Get up and lock the door for me,” he says and pulls his hand away slowly.

You do as your told immediately and when you turn around, he is sitting on his chair with his legs spread. He looks so hot and you desperately clench your thighs together to relief the pressure between your legs. “Good girl. Come here,” he says and pats his thigh. You shiver in excitement and when he notices a grin spreads across his face.

You go over to him and when you stand in front of him, he pulls you down into his lap. He leans forward to whisper into your ear “That’s what you wanted, right? To be my good girl. That’s why you send me that picture. You wanted to end up here,” he says and places his hands on your hips. You press yourself closer against him and inhale his scent, he smells like cinnamon, peppermint and aftershave, it’s addictive.

However, you get interrupt by his hand reaching into your hair to pull your head back. You gasp in surprise and he leans closer to you, looking deep into your eyes again. “I asked you a question. I expect an answer,” he says and you can feel yourself getting even wetter. “Yes, that’s true. I - I always wanted that,” you manage to say and he releases your hair, satisfied with your response.

Then he leans forward and you finally feel his lips against yours. It’s even better than you always imagined and you start to grind against his leg, desperate to release the friction between your legs. But Spencer quickly stops you. “Did I allow you to move?” he asks and you shake your head.

He sighs in disappointment but before he can say anything you quickly answer him. “No, you didn’t,” you say and his grip on your hips looses a little. “That’s right. I didn’t. And you’re not allowed to move until I tell you to. You’re going to listen to me and do exactly what your told, do you understand?” he asks. “I understand.”

“See, it’s not that hard. You listen to me, you behave and you’ll get your reward. Now, do you want to ride my thigh?” he asks, his hand slowly sliding behind your back to your ass, squeezing it. “Yes, please. Can I?” you ask and he leans forward to kiss you again, his tongue exploring your mouth. When he pulls back you can see his eyes sparkling with lust. “So polite, I like that. Yes, you can,” he says and you finally go back to moving against his thigh.

It feels good, so good and when Spencer starts to slide one hand under your shirt to grab your breasts you press closer against him. You can feel that you soaked your underwear trough and wearing only a skirt, you can already see a small wet stain on his pants. His gaze follows yours and he chuckles. “Someone’s needy,” he says and you nod, leaning against his chest, grinding down more against him.

“Spen - Spencer, I’m going to come,” you whimper but he pulls you back by your hair again. “It’s Sir for you, angel,” he says and you correct yourself immediately. “Please Sir, can I come on your thigh now?” you breath out and he grabs your hips again, stopping you.

“No, not yet,” he simply says and you whine when he stands up and you lose contact. “But I thought - “ you start but he doesn’t let you finish. He turns you around and pushes you down onto his desk. “Doesn’t matter what you thought. I decided I’m not letting you come yet,” he says and flips over your skirt to expose your underwear to him.

“I see, another pair then the ones you wore yesterday. I’ve got to admit, I prefer the other ones, but you look pretty anyway, angel,” he says, sliding his hands over your thighs and your ass. “Last night when you send me that picture, I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he admits and you can feel your whole body reacting to his words.

A wave of confidence flashes through you. “Did I keep you up last night, Sir? Did you have to stroke your cock while you looked at my picture? Thinking about all the ways you want to fuck me?” you ask him and turn your head slightly back to look at him with a smirk on your face. His eyes darken and he tightens his grip.

“Oh you have no idea, angel. I’m going to show you exactly what I was thinking about last night,” And suddenly you feel a harsh smack on your ass. He just spanked you. And you liked it. Your breath hitches and you bit down on your lip to keep quiet. You don’t want anyone to find out what’s going on in here.

His hand strokes the spot he just hit before going further down to pull at your panties. He takes them off and stuffs them into his pocket. You are convinced you’re not going to get them back. Then you feel his long, slender fingers sliding between your legs before he presses onto your clit. You gasp in surprise and try to press against him but his grip on your hips is firm, holding you still.

Then he pushes two fingers inside you. “So fucking wet.” His eyes wander over your body down to your legs hungrily, appreciating every curve and every spot. “I’ve never seen such a pretty pussy. And it’s all mine now. You’re all mine now,” he says. The way his fingers move and the way he stares at you intensely feels just way too good.

When his thumb goes back to your clit, rubbing it in slow circles, you can feel how your orgasm builds up inside of you and you can no longer hold back your moans. “Spencer - Sir, feels so good. Please,… I need more,” You clench around his fingers and he quickly puts a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet. “Shh, be quiet, angel. As much as I would love to hear all these lovely sounds you make, I don’t want to get interrupted. Not now, when I finally have you, after all this time.”

His fingers curl inside you and keep hitting your g -spot. You clench around them, he notices and chuckles. “Can I - please,” you stutter. “Yes angel,” he says, already knowing what you’re asking for and you come around his fingers. You never had such an intense orgasm from foreplay before, but you don’t mind. It’s even better than you always imagined.

He wants to give you a moment to recover but you want more. You somehow manage to turn around, even though your legs feel like they are going to give in any second and push yourself up on his desk. He looks surprised and opens his mouth to say something but you interrupt him by pulling him closer by his tie.

You wrap your hands around his neck and rank your fingers through his soft, brown hair before kissing him. You moan into his mouth and he groans, sending a shiver down your spine. “Thank you, Sir. That was amazing,” you say with a smirk on your face when you pull back. “Now is the time to lose your pants and relax, I want to return the favor.”

“As much as I want to see you down on your knees with your pretty lips wrapped around my cock, we don’t have much time left. Office hour starts in less than 30 minutes. And I need to fuck you. So drop it and spread your legs for me. Now,” he demands and you obliged, sitting further back on his desk with your legs spread.

He takes a step back and starts to unzip his dress pants. When he takes out his cock your eyes widen. He is even bigger than you expected. “Are you on the pill?” he asks while he starts to pump his cock. “I am,” you say. “Good. I want to fuck your pussy and then, since you suggested sucking me off, come inside your mouth. I want you to taste me. You don’t swallow until I say so. Do you understand?” he asks, sliding his cock through your folds to tease you. “Yes Sir, I understand,” you whimper and he wastes no time and pushes inside you.

His first thrust already make your eyes roll back and you feel like you’re going to die from the intense pleasure. Your legs wrap around his waits and your hands are on his back, pressing him even more against your body. Everytime a whimper or a moan escapes your mouth his thrust become deeper, rougher and faster. You can feel him throb inside you and he keeps hitting your g- spot over and over again.

One of his hand is sneaking through your breast, squeezing it and toying with your nipple. You graze his back with your fingernails and make sure to leave marks on him. Your mind goes blank and you lose yourself in the pleasure completely. After a few more thrust you can feel the orgasm building up inside of you. “Close,” you breath out and he nods. “Me too. You can come on my cock now.”

You let go and your orgasm is even more intense than you expected. You moan his name so loud that he quickly covers your mouth with his hand again. He picks up his speed and a few thrusts later he pulls out of you to shove his cock into your mouth. You can feel his cum inside your mouth and taste him, just like he told you to. He watches you closely the whole time while he recovers from his own orgasm.

“Now swallow,” he says and you do. Then he pulls you forward with both of his hands to kiss you. The kiss is different this time, more gentle and caring, not just full of lust. When he pulls back you both smile. “I guess sending you this picture was not bad at all. And I was so worried.” He laughs. “I’m glad you send it, angel. Now I finally have you all to myself. It's a shame I couldn't take more time for you right now. There's a lot more I'd like to do with you,” he says with a mischievous smile on his face. “Why don’t you show me after your office hours, Sir?” you say with a smirk on your face. “Make sure to be here on time, angel.”

[dcxdpdabbles]

Hi Drabbles,

I wanted to ask if you still do prompts and if you do can you do the one below?

So Danny is the Ghost King and was friends with Bruce’s parents so he felt when they died. They could become ghosts but I’ll leave that up to you. But either way, Danny feels their death and assists Alfred when he can to raise Bruce. Due Danny’s visits and Bruce’s holidays in the infinite realms they (Bruce and Alfred) became very Liminal. So they have slight powers. One day, Danny comes over with Ellie and Dan (who are like siblings to Bruce as both we deaged/destabilised and Danny raised them) but Bruce forgets he never told the newer kids about them as Danny hasn’t come over in a while. Dick has meet them, Jason has heard about of them but the rest don’t know about them.

There were three strangers in their house. Usually, that would be okay, as multiple people came and went through Wayne Manor. It was customary to hire random crews to help set up for a Gala, or maybe some representatives from the various charities they helped would come over for dinner or a meeting.

Sometimes, a few of Bruce's old party buddies would pop up to get him to stop being a dad and return to his party boy days. They've all learned how to dance around visitors and hide their identities.

The thing was, these strangers were kept from the main parts of the manor. Their rooms, the sitting lounge, Bruce's Office, Damian's art studio, Jason's library, Tim's game room, Cass' dance studio, and Duke's music record room were all inaccessible.

Bruce would always ask if someone attempted to sneak away and stop them. There was a time when paparazzi disguised themselves as crew members—the three idiots even got jobs at the cleaning company—and tried to see if they could find a scandal on the children.

Brucie Wayne was seen crying hysterically on the news that night for accidentally pushing down a piano on them. He was trying to take it up to the Music Room as a surprise for Duke and wanted to avoid bothering the cleaners to have them help him. He had no idea the rope he was using to drag the grand piano up the stairs would have snapped and rolled backward onto the paparazzi, who had previously been taking pictures of Cass practicing without her knowledge.

People told him not to feel bad, as Bruce had cameras in the hallways of his home due to the last time someone broke in, and it was obviously not his fault. Some people said they deserved it, but Bruce wouldn't hear it. He paid for all their medical bills and gave them enough funds to tie them over for three weeks while they recovered.

Everyone shook their heads at poor Bruce. After all, the piano had fallen so far that the only real harm was that each of them got a few bruises and a broken arm, but that was all.

The point was that no one went up there that shouldn't be.

Yet here, standing in the middle of the Gaming room, were three strangers who were all aggressively battling it out on an old remaster shooting game.

"This is way harder than I remember," said the oldest one, who seemed to be Alfred's age.

"That's cause you always sucked at games," The woman taunted, but her words were countered by the other man shooting her down. "Hey!"

"Ha!" Barked the last man from where he was twisting his elbows, moving alongside his running character. "I'm unstoppable!"

Tim turns to his siblings, about to ask them how they want to play the dramatic scene where they would throw these people out, but his words catch in his mouth upon spotting Cass' expression.

Her narrowed, guarded eyes watched the three with the same amount of steel she had reserved for only the worst of their enemies. Whoever they are, they set off so many alarms in her. She knows they're dangerous.

At once, this minor inconvenience turned into a severe risk to his health. He snaps back towards the strangers, tense and ready for battle. Around him, the rest of his siblings are in similar stances, quickly signing how they would attack.

What kind of message were they sending if someone on Cass's danger scale was able to break in undetected and choose to play with their things? Was it a show of what they could do? Claim that they could beat the Bats without really trying?

The woman's eyes snap towards them so fast she could have been a speedster. He had even noticed her turning around; one second, she was back to them. The next, she was half-turned, staring at them. It looked like a poorly edited video. Everyone jumps, but all she does is smile. "Hey, it's Bruce's kids! Anyone want to call the winner?"

The older gentleman drops his control, turns around to fully face them, and gasps. He puts one hand on his chest and the other right above his mouth. "Look at them! There are so many! Alfred must be so excited to be a grandfather. Why aren't you two giving me grandbabies?"

"Ugh, not this again." The man sighs, continuing to play despite the fact that the other two are no longer paying attention.

"It's fine time you find someone nice." The other protested.

"I'm not nice," Countered the player. "I highly doubt someone would want to find me."

"That's not true, Dan. Most of my co-workers want your number, " the woman chirps. "Also, stay away from my office. It's gross."

"Aren't half of your office married?"

"That's why I said most, you idiot."

"Just for that, I'm going to your office dressed like a romance novel protagonist. The modern professor who goes home for the holidays and finds his humanity again. I'll have a trench coat and everything."

"How dare you. Then I'll strut by your friends in a bikini."

"That's mean. It's not Halloween; there is no need to scare them."

"I'll kill you-"

"Enough! Honestly, you two, you're in your late thirties. Stop bickering."

"No matter how old we are, Dani will always be my little sister."

"Aw. " Dani poses the same as the older man—hand on chest, hand over mouth—and looks close to tears. "I love you too, you big waste of space."

Cass creeps into the room, somehow vanishing from view as the three strangers chat. Tim is still determining where she is, but he figures she'll strike when she has the opening. He feels Duke palm the knife in his pocket, and Damian lowers himself in preparation to throw a ninja star.

Dan snaps his head up with a laugh. "Wow, you're fast. A little too loud, though. Make sure to flatline your heartbeat when sneaking up on people."

Cass drops down over him, but Dan only laughs. Her blade goes right through him, and her fast place kicks do nothing. She accidentally cuts the controller in half, stopping the man's laughter.

"No! I was winning!"

"Ha!" Dani barks, uncaring the ninja star that goes through her right shoulder and flies through her body to exit on the other side. "Dan forfeits!"

"How does this count as forfeiting-"

"Guys, the children are trying to kill us." The older man cuts in. He levels the Waynes with large, grandfatherly eyes. "Children, why are you trying to kill us?"

He says it the same way someone would as a child why they were putting things in their mouths.

"Not kill. Just harm," Duke responds, voice low and dangerous. " Why don't you answer our questions. How did you get in here?"

"Alfred, let us in. He said we could make ourselves at home while he stepped out." The old man frowned. "He went to get Bruce from his office."

"Who are you?" Tim demands next, filing away the claim that Alfred let them. The butler would have told them days in advance if someone would have access to the game room.

"I'm Danny Fenton. These are my children, Dani and Dan." Danny introduces, eyeing the crowd. "We're close friends of Alfred and Bruce."

"How-"

"It's so good to see you all again!" Dick cheers, running down the hallway and still in uniform. He jumps over his siblings in an impressive flip, not breaking stride to race into Danny's arms.

The older man holds them open seconds before they crash together. "Dick! Look how big you've gotten. Oh, it seems like only yesterday you were waist-high!"

"Ha ha ha, it has been a few years, Granpa Danny. Hi Auntie, Uncle! How are you?"

"Dickie, my sweet pea, look at you!" Dani squeals, leaning in for her own hug. She passes through a confused Cass like a ghost. "So handsome! And Tall! Who told you that you were allowed to grow taller than me?"

"Seeing that you are barely over five' six, everyone," Dan laughs, clapping Dick on the shoulder. "It's a shame we're twins, so I'm no taller."

"Um, Dick?" Tim calls as his brother breaks in fast-paced, reassurances that no matter how tall he is, he will always be open for hugs from the shorter adults. "Who are they?"

"Oh these are Fentons. Danny helped Alfred raise Bruce, so their like our extended family."

Tim blinks, wondering if this feeling of confusion is what his classmates mean whenever they joke about being at family functions and people who last saw them as babies walk up to them like they should know them. It's an odd feeling.

"Oh, them?" Jason says from behind the hallway. He peeks in casually, lowering his gun and raising the soda can in the other hand. "I heard about them but never met them. They have level purple clearance."

"Of course we do! We build that stupid cave for Bruce." Dan scoffs. "He got stuck down there as a kid and thought it was safe just to make an entire headquarters in a hole. Honestly."

"At least Bruce has a career and children," Danny says pointingly.

"Please don't compare me to my cousin." Dani groans. "It's exhausting."

Yeah, this is definitely extended family.

[mya-valentine]

Can I have some hilarious headcanons with Denki, Ochaco, Momo, Shinsou, and Shigaraki with a Narcoleptic S/O that sleeps a LOT due to their quirk, Like they can even fall asleep while standing up!

Headcanon: Narcoleptic S/O

Denki Kaminari

The first time you fell asleep standing, Kaminari thought you’d fainted and freaked out, running in circles yelling for Recovery Girl. Now, he just gently props you up against a wall like it’s no big deal.

He gets startled constantly because you’ll doze off mid-sentence and then wake up like nothing happened. One time, you fell asleep holding an electric whisk, and he screamed when it turned on as you dropped it.

Denki has accepted his fate as your default nap station. He’ll just carry on conversations with the others while you snooze on his shoulder. He’s weirdly proud of how “cozy” people think he looks.

He’ll try to wake you up at the worst times. “Wait, babe, are you okay? Are you ALIVE?!” He’s so loud you end up startling awake and accidentally smacking him.

Kaminari keeps a daily tally of how many times you’ve fallen asleep in random places, like standing in the elevator or on a park bench mid-conversation. He has a betting pool going with the others.

Ochaco Uraraka

At first, Ochaco panics every time you suddenly drop off to sleep, rushing to catch you before you hit the ground. Over time, she gets better at spotting the signs and just guides you gently to a chair before you keel over.

On movie nights, you inevitably fall asleep halfway through. She’ll try to nudge you awake so you don’t miss the good parts, but you just mumble, “I’m awake” and promptly start snoring again.

One time, you used your quirk and fell asleep while floating. She had to panic-jump to pull you down before you drifted into a tree.

If you fall asleep on her during training, she’ll just sit there, stroking your hair and giggling about how adorable you look.

She once told villains that you were the team’s “ultimate sleeper agent,” which confused them long enough for the team to ambush them.

Momo Yaoyorozu

Momo tries to plan around your sleepiness, setting alarms and keeping snacks nearby to help keep you awake. It works… until you fall asleep anyway.

She’s made custom chairs, pillows, and even a portable mattress for you. She insists they’re practical, but your classmates tease her for spoiling you.

You fell asleep standing up during a school assembly once. Momo frantically waved her arms to block others from noticing while whispering, “Wake up!” You didn’t.

She reads up on narcolepsy and quirks to help you manage better. One time, she accidentally turned a study session into a lecture about sleep cycles, and you fell asleep halfway through.

If you pass out in battle, she panics and assumes the worst. “Are they unconscious or just sleeping?!” Cue her aggressively shaking you while trying not to cry.

Hitoshi Shinsou

As someone who’s perpetually tired, Shinsou relates a lot. You two could nap through an entire afternoon, curled up somewhere cozy, and call it a successful date.

He’s so used to you falling asleep randomly that he barely reacts anymore. You once fell asleep during training, and he just sighed and muttered, “Guess we’re done for the day.”

If a villain catches you sleeping mid-fight, Shinsou plays it off. “They’re bait. Wanna test your luck waking them up?” The bluff works surprisingly often.

He jokes about using his quirk to keep you awake. “If I brainwash you, you technically won’t fall asleep, right?” He wouldn’t actually do it, but the threat makes you glare at him.

He’s perfected the art of positioning you so you don’t fall over when you pass out. One time, he even carried you piggyback-style during training while you napped.

Tomura Shigaraki

The first time you fell asleep while standing, Shigaraki thought you were messing with him. “Are you serious right now?!” He only realized it was legit when you started snoring.

The League is lowkey fascinated by your ability to fall asleep anywhere, anytime. Dabi has taken so many pictures of you passed out in weird positions.

Shigaraki tries to “test” your limits by seeing how long it takes for you to nod off. It’s a weird game, but he finds it hilarious when you fall asleep mid-glare.

He’s terrible at waking you up and just pokes you with one finger, muttering, “Oi, wake up, idiot.” When that doesn’t work, he just leaves you there.

If you doze off during a mission, he’s ready to throttle you. “Seriously?! You’re just gonna SLEEP in the middle of this?” But if anyone else comments, he’ll snap, “Shut up—they’re fine!”

.

.

.

Masterlist

[wondeurwall]

Idk if u've seen rafayel's new oracle story BUT IT HAS BEEN PLAGUING MY MIND

"What if i make it up to you like this yeah?"

MAKE UP SEX WITH RAFAYEL.

TELL ME DO YOU THINK THEY'LL HAVE IT OFTEN?? But ones in a more playful sort of way not really full on arguments if you get what i mean 😩💗💗

oh my god please, nonnie, rafayel's oracle story is literally the only thing on my mind. i've been so unwell

i went in with one dream and spent everything i had because my luck is abysmal. and, the worst part?? I CAN'T EVEN BE UPSET ABOUT IT 😭🫵🏻 it wasn't what i expected. it's kind of funny ASKDDJKD!! i thought it'd be myth related. instead, i was blessed with rafayel.... kisses... 🥰

itty bitty nsfw 🔞 mdni.

rafayel would 100% down for playful makeup sex 😵‍💫💕 honestly, he'd pull any kind of excuse just to get you undressed and fucked out in bliss. he loves how pretty you look when you cum 💕 even more when he and you can get a good laugh in between because he'd appreciate lightheartedness in intimacy. after all, he wouldn't have sex with anyone else! he needs trust to do those sweet, silly things too, and he can only ever do that with you.

because i think he'd find a lot of fun with it, he'd do it often, but the sex doesn't necessarily need to be absolutely mind-blowing once initiated. banter is fun, even better when it leads to sex, but he just loves being close like that: naked and a tangled mess of limbs with the warmth coming from your body to his.

he's a night owl, so he's unintentionally ignoring your texts. maybe, even misses a few phone calls or immediately ends an incoming one, thinking it's an alarm he set up before. part of the day goes by and you're coming into his home to make sure he's doing alright. there's no use in pretending that you aren't upset. because you are upset! you didn't hear from him 💔 but, you find that he's just now out of bed after finishing a new piece of art.

"were you asleep this whole time?" you ask.

he rambles on about a sudden inspiration he had and that, "it'd be wrong to rest when the idea was too good."

you listen, nod, but truthfully some of his words go in and out the other ear. you frown at him. and, when he asks why you have that look on your face, you're quick to say, "i'm sure you can figure out why."

he knows. of course, he knows. he reads you well, just like you do him. then, his shoulders are a little hunched over, and he's laughing!

"i've really spoiled you," he says softly. his hands are on your hips the next second, pulling you close. "mm, why not let me make it up to you? i'm awake now, and we have the rest of the day to ourselves."

he lifts you and lays you on the couch. kisses you while he thinks about how many times he can get you gushing on his fingers and tongue before his cock.

OR, if you're the one making it up to him 🥹

accidentally spilling paint on a good shirt of his? you're panicking as soon as it happens. your hands move faster than your mouth, and you're halfway with unbuttoning his shirt before telling him he needs to take it off.

his laughter is what stops you. it dawns on you! but, to be fair, your thoughts don't have anything else besides: the shirt must be washed before it really stains.

"someone's being bold," he chuckles as your eyes meet. "did you plan this?"

"what?" and, the fabric drops from between your fingers. rafayel doesn't miss the way your gaze falls briefly, catching the sight of his bare chest, last 2 or 3 buttons barely laying over his abdomen. "me, ruining a piece of clothing that's probably over three times my budget? i don't think that's planning. it's called being clumsy."

your face feels warm. you take a deep breath, reach out to him, "c'mon. i'll wash it. take it off before the paint makes it unsalvageable."

rafayel clasps your wrist with his hand, steps into your space, voice deepening with a tinge of playfulness, "no, i can think of a better idea. how about me and you have matching clothes?"

he embraces you, gets you wearing blotches of paint too, and you want to argue. but, you can't find the energy to when one hand is guiding your head back and the other is tugging on your neckline. rafayel's lips move to your throat first. then, trails open-mouthed kisses along the rest of your neck, jaw, the base of your shoulder, before whispering, "it's a good idea, yeah?"

since you're the one to make a mess of his shirt first, he wants you riding him as compensation. to make him feel good? yes, sure, he loves that. though, the reason for it, most of all: he wants you using his cock like you own it. wants you aching and desperate for him. cum all over him, feel good because of him. nothing gets him going more than watching you bounce on top and moan his name so sweetly 🥰

© 2024 wondeurwall ☆ all rights reserved. please don't repost as your own, modify or translate on here or on other platforms. reblogs & likes are appreciated! ♡

[aziraphales-library]

howdy! i was wondering if you could rec some really tropey ineffable wives fics? i really liked the blesséd language of flowers by elfontheshelf!

Hello! Here are some delightfully tropey ineffable wives fics for you...

i was so tempted (i wouldn't dare) by rubyknowbys (T)

It’s a message delivered to the wrong number that brought Antonia J. Crowley and Aziraphale Fell together and, even in anonymity, a friendship inevitably made something deeper flourish amongst shared texts. Antonia started working at Medium’s Bookshop, they finally scheduled a date, and Aziraphale was thrilled to know that she’s going to meet the owner of the irresistible words, which made her fall in love so quickly. But the bookshop supervisor didn’t imagine that their new employee, who she detested even more each day, is the same woman who has been sending her those anonymous darling messages all along.

And when she found out, the information created a new dilemma inside her mind, while her most powerful impulse became to try to win Antonia’s heart smoothly: should Aziraphale tell her?

Just Like You Were Brand New by SilenceDogood117 (T)

There are two things Aziraphale Fell hates: 1) people checking out books from her library and 2) Christmas. Already gritting her teeth to get through the festive season, she is further alarmed to hear that Antonia Crowley has come back to town for the first time in 14 years.

Cue Christmas absurdities, reading contests, old memories, and the occasional duck.

Take the Monet and Run by SilenceDogood117 (M)

Convicted art thief Antoinette Crowley is fresh out of prison, fresh out of a marriage, and determined to settle an old score with one last heist. She’s certainly not going to be distracted by the reappearance of a face from the past. That would be entirely counterproductive.

I’m Your Landsailor by IneffableDoll (T)

In a small seaside town called Tadfield, one of the last places on Earth where humans and magic coexist, an exiled selkie and a human who ran away from her life accidentally get themselves married in the oldest, most binding sense. The two are forced to stay together until they can find a way to undo it and free the other from their accidental marriage. It sure would be complicated if they started to fall for each other in the process…

How To Fall (In Love with an Angel) by die_traumerei (M)

It's not a meet-cute, because they don't actually meet, and that's the worst part of Crowley seeing the most beautiful woman in the world, stumbling, and breaking her ankle. She gets the weeks in plaster, and none of the pretty lady -- at least at first.

In a village small enough that the Queer community is more like a family, it's no time at all before Crowley and Aziraphale meet, and set about courting each other. Secrets are shared, flirtation is had, and Crowley falls again; just this time, the local A&E isn't involved.

don't read too much into it by mllekurtz (M)

Discovering the identity of the guardian angel who sheltered her from the rain on a dreary Monday morning won’t be easy, but Crowley (beleaguered junior editor in a London publishing house and human disaster) can’t think of anything else.

And the one you mentioned...

The blesséd language of flowers by elf_on_the_shelf (E)

Crowley has given up on her life in the big city and decided to retire early to the lovely village of Tadfield. She expected a run-off-the-mill early retirement. Maybe playing bridge with a couple of old ladies and maybe taking a part in organising some of the village fetes. What she did not expect was actually competing against the woman she had developed a crush on in the village floral competitions and hence that particular woman instantly taking a dislike to her. She also did not expect that for the sake of the village's reputation they would have to band together and participate as a couple for nationals, because why not...

- Mod D

[synthapostate]

Return of the Ever-Expanding WIP List

I'm doing this again. Organizing the list is part of my process I guess.

Resist Psychic Death - Possessed Newt. Next chapter: the Geiszlers arrive in Hong Kong.

The Tropes Nobody Asked For - A bodyswap AU. This would be complete if I could come up with a concluding paragraph to wrap things up. (It's been months, man, get it together.)

I could be writing sweaty nerd sex like a normal person but no - Maybe if I changed the title I could wrap my head around this? (I should just scrap this and be done with it.)

Heating Pad - A cat adopts Hermann.

Miserable, Lonely and Depressed (Pathetic) - The return of Cool Uncle Newt. (He’s not cool, he’s possessed.)

Vampire AU - I mean obviously I had to write a vampire AU at some point. (Comedy.)

Some Days You Just Can’t Get Rid of a Bomb - Newt tries to solve capitalism. I don’t think this is even going anywhere, but I like the title too much to let it go.

Cold as Ice - Hurt/Comfort? Something. Contains no hurt/comfort and has nothing to do with cold or ice, but…it’s…something. A convergence of “whoever will take him” and (numbers) “will never betray me”. Hurt people hurt people, but survivors can be kind. (I wrote to what I thought was the end and nothing was resolved, so now I don't know.)

Newt’s Passion - A sex pollen fic. (No, it isn’t.) (Zom com.)

Here Begins the Land of Phantoms - Vampires, full horror. Gore, angst, little bit of body horror. Next chapter: Tendo Choi is a really nice guy.

Consent is Sexy - A team-building exercise leads to certain confessions that would not be made while sober.

Cold as Ice 2: Alaskan Boogaloo - It's not set in Alaska. I struggle desperately to get these men into the situation they need to be in, to no avail.

The Worst Thing I Can Possibly Imagine - My genuine attempt to work through something, but then I thought of a punchline so now it’s a funny little shitpost.

Splash - A…feelings thing. The first tentative steps toward getting along.

Caffeine Blues - I swore I would never write a coffee shop au, but…One chapter to go? December is becoming a monster chapter that might have to split again. Next chapter: Newt finally sees Hermann in those tights.

Stop You Have Enough WIPs - Some silly fluff for these stressful times.

Shoes - Newt’s past catches up with him. Hermann is intrigued.

Groundhog Day - Hey man, these sci fi tropes exist for a reason.

Newt and Hermann Go On Six Dates - I write fluff now. Next chapter: An impromptu road trip takes the fellas to the state fair.

Hermann Gets Shot - It is so dangerous to start a fight in an elevator when one of the people you’re fighting has a gun.

Return to Sender - Newt leaves Hong Kong to work for Shao. Angst. Uhhhhh I used that title for something else. What’s another song about letters?

Find Me in the Drift - Sequel to Dinner With a Friend. Haven't decided yet if I'll make the next part a second chapter or its own fic, but, next chapter/fic: Mako can believe that Newt has become a capitalist douchebag who buys his own hype, but alarm bells ring when Hermann returns from Shanghai with an easygoing smile and a positive attitude. Why is he trying to get along with everyone?

The Curse of Gottlieb Manor - In which I actually try to write horror on purpose, and give myself the most intense nightmares I’ve had in years. I’m toning it down for the actual story.

Painting the Kitchen - About finding a future after the apocalypse is averted.

Total Eclipse of the Heart - Jake Pentecost doesn’t trust Newt, decides to keep a close eye on him to guard Hermann’s back, and accidentally ends up with two new dads.

A Kidnapping - Um…it’s a kidnapping.

Wake Up, Dr. Jones! - More trauma. Possibly too much trauma actually. Scrap this?

Space Opera - When the first kaiju comes through the breach, Newt fires off a plea for help into deep space. There can’t be just one alien race out there, right? Maybe some of them will be on our side.

Third Act Breakup - I hate romcoms. Let’s do this thing.

Sweet Siren Song - Newt is doing his biology thing in the Atlantic, Hermann is an inexperienced sailor who shouldn’t be out alone on a day like this, they both get caught in a storm, turns out mermaids are real. (Romance.) (Accidental horror.)

What’s Your Angle - Turns out mermaids are real. (Horror.) (Accidental romance?)

Etiquette and Protocol - Loosely based on a dream, the boys are forced to take an etiquette class because anger management isn’t working. (Protip: if you encourage me to add something to my list, I probably will.)

Am I Blue - In which Newt learns how far Hermann is willing to go to save him.

Mr. Cellophane - Post-war, they go their separate ways, but when Newt is involved in an unlikely lab accident, obviously his first thought is to go to Hermann for help.

Hanahaki - Still angst but I have entirely dropped the hanahaki premise.

Time is On My Side - I reuse the tag “Hermann Gottlieb bends all of time and space to his will for the man he loves,” whether it's applicable or not. Next chapter: Newt attempts to tell Hermann about their future; Hermann puts all his energy into solving this time travel thing because enough is enough.

Chuck Punches Hermann in the Face - He was aiming for Newt.

I’ve Got My Love to Keep Me Warm - In which Newt owns a space heater, and Hermann does not.

Marriage of Convenience - Lars Gottlieb has a scheme, Hermann will do anything to get out of it, Newt is an agent of chaos, fake dating ensues.

The Allegations - In which Hermann is not beating them. (Note: this time the allegations are that Hermann is a robot.)

Perspective - A very nice day. :) (Lie.)

Regency - In which I decide not to let all the meticulous research I've done go to waste. Apparently I'm writing a full regency romance novel, and it will be held to Harlequin's publication standards. (For historical accuracy. I already know I'm too gay for market.)

Alternate Universe - Hermann Gottlieb bends all of time and space to his will for the man he loves. Again.

Genie in a Bottle - I'm putting Hermann through too many shenanigans. It's only because he's my favorite.

Straight to Voicemail - An urban fantasy AU. Possibly horror. We'll see.

Spacewalk - In which the Shatterdome is a deep space colony ship, and I pay homage to my favorite sci fi author.

Search Party - Post-precursors recovery fic, in which Newt relearns that he is the good man Hermann says he is.

Hospital Whump (Take Two) - In which I will NOT get sidetracked by feels, and they WILL end up in the hospital, and there will be both hurt and comfort.

Hermann Holds a Baby - Too dark, might delete.

Blue Christmas - Because I love working on things that wouldn't make sense to post yet.

Dragonslayer - High fantasy AU. Obvious premise, but what the hell, dragons are cool. (First section is almost complete!)

I'm the One You're Looking For - This Fallout fusion is going to be an epic multichapter adventure story after all. Next chapter: Newt sees the stars for the first time.

Apocalypse - Their disaster of a first meeting is the worst day of Newt's life. Partly because their attempt to storm away from each other is interrupted by a zombie outbreak. Now Newt is stuck with the guy who hates him, and they're barely one step ahead of the hordes of the walking dead hungering for human flesh. It's so unfair. (Originally a concept for the Halloween zine, but the wordcount got away from me.)

First Contact, Cynical Edition - Am I filling eleven year old prompts from a dead kinkmeme? Maybe! Newt and Hermann's first meeting takes place at Area 51. Sort of X-Files vibes, among other things.

Rock! - More post-Uprising angst. Not everyone is willing to believe that Newt is not responsible for the precursors' actions, no matter what Hermann says.

Halloween - No kaiju au, originally intended for the Halloween zine. Hermann agrees to babysit Mako and Jake over the weekend when their father is called out of town. Since Halloween is coming up, they watch a scary movie together, only to be interrupted by the creepy upstairs neighbor. (Despite the title, has nothing to do with the films of John Carpenter. I was thinking more like Ringu.)

Cabin - Another no kaiju au originally intended for the Halloween zine. As their relationship starts to get serious, Newt and Hermann go away for a romantic weekend in a cabin in the woods. Nothing bad ever happens at an isolated cabin in the woods.

I Already Forgot - Years after the war, two old friends have a drink together and reminisce.

Phantom - My actual fic for the Halloween zine. :)

(Honorable mention: Drift Swap fic. Talk about this someday.)

[crossdressingdeath]

#i have never thought the concept of Circles was all bad but it is executed in the worst possible ways#why not have mages live outside their circle towers#why do you think children torn from their families would do well at a harrowing#if circles were run by mages and templars training was focused on dampening instead of neutralizing#and if harrowings occured when mages were older and better adjusted#i don't think Circles would really be so bad#i get the desire to have a national mandate on cultivating magic#but if magic were accepted and cherished by the Chantry instead of feared and hated#i think Circles could be beneficial#but fuck the Chantry for being such ignorant dicks about magic#i think mages have deeper spiritual connections than any Chantry sister#their spiritual connections are something to admire and seek wisdom from#stupid Chantry fuckwads (tags via @finding-a-way-back-to-then)

...Okay. I think what's happening here is a fundamental misunderstanding of what the Circles... are. I think you're thinking of them as some sort of boarding school for mages? Which they are not. They were never supposed to be. They're prisons. They're a place to lock up children for the "crime" of being born with magic, and mages are taught just enough that they don't accidentally blow up the building and are too scared to do it on purpose. The only thing even vaguely making the Circles schools is Chantry propaganda claiming they are. It's not "a national mandate to nurture magic", it's "let's lock all the mages up, make them hate themselves, and only let them out when the Orlesians (or maybe other countries as long as they're not fighting Orlais) ask nicely for some walking nukes to die for them".

But just for fun, let's look at the Circles as boarding schools. Mandatory religious boarding schools that steal children belonging to a minority group for indoctrination by a dominant religion, which... hm, fucking nope, that concept sets off so many alarm bells you could make a whole bell tower out of them and then some. I'm not going to go into real life connections here (they do exist and are horrific, but I don't want to get into it on a fandom post), but yikes is all I can say to the suggestion that any organization that does that could ever be anything but monstrous, much less not so bad. But you say the Circles would be fine if it wasn't for the whole "child-stealing" part, so let's look at that. The mere concept of forcing a mage to fight a demon to "prove" they can't be possessed despite the Harrowing not actually proving jack shit because possession is extremely context sensitive? Terrible. The Harrowing isn't a fucking test, because you cannot test for "risk of possession". We see apprentices handle tense standoffs with demons without getting possessed and we see Harrowed mages get possessed both willingly and by force, it proves nothing, and having a test where you are murdered if you fail is horrific to begin with even if it did prove anything. The fact that they throw children into it unprepared is only one of the many, many ways that the Harrowing is fucked up to the core, literally no aspect of it should ever have existed.

Having fantasy cops—kept on a tight leash by the fantasy Catholic church via fantasy drugs—stationed in the building with the authority to kill these children if they see fit based solely on whether they claim to see a danger? Even worse! The issue with the Templars isn't that they have the power to shut down magic, it's that they have the unquestionable authority to do whatever they want to the mages under their control with no repercussions. They shouldn't be there at all. The existence of Templars is not something that a society that actually wanted mages would ever tolerate. Having people who can counter magic is logical (even if Templars are utterly, hilariously pants at it, seriously, name one time in these games the Templars actually accomplish jack shit against skilled and prepared mages, a single well-trained mage is better than a dozen Templars at handling enemy mages) since there will be mages wanting to do things that need to be prevented, having a religious army that exists solely to capture, guard, torture and murder people for having magic is just deeply fucked up.

As for that "deeper spiritual connections" bit... okay, you do realize that a lot of the mage kids the Chantry steals for the Circle would be spiritual and religious leaders in their own cultures, yes? The Dalish, the Avaar, the Rivaini, the Nevarrans, the Tevinter Chantry, probably others that I can't remember offhand, all of them have mages holding important positions within their cultures and their religions. The Circles take that from them. The Circles are not mage boarding schools that happen to be Andrastian, one of their goals is religious indoctrination. They've attempted to steal entire generations of children who would've been religious leaders if they'd been allowed to remain with their families and in their own communities, that's part of the fucking point. That's one of the reasons why the Circles could never be a good thing: one of the reasons why they exist is to force young mages into Andrastianism, whether they are or want to be Andrastian or not.

So... yeah, no. There is nothing that could be done that would make the Circles at all salvageable. Even the locations of the Circles are unsalvageable! The Veil has been worn so thin by the constant blood magic (phylacteries; side note, another horrible thing that can't be fixed, stealing children's blood so they can literally never escape the Circle) and demon summoning (Harrowings) that no one is fully safe there, let alone mages. It's only the fact that the Chantry overstates the risk of possession to a ridiculous degree that's allowed for there to only be two known and provable mass possessions in a Circle in their whole history (mind you, a thing that wouldn't have ever happened if the Circles didn't force large numbers of mages into one space and then terrorize them). And that's without even getting into the why the fuck is the Chantry getting the final say when almost every other culture in Thedas that we interact with prefers to keep their mages free and often in a position of authority question; setting aside the dwarfs (who aren't part of the issue since they don't have mages), of all the religions in Thedas we see it's only the Southern Chantry and the Qun that take any issue with mages. Same thing with cultural groups outside of religions; it's only places with a culture heavily influenced by the Southern Chantry that are against mages being free. The Circles shouldn't exist not just because they're horrific institutions that exist to indoctrinate and murder young mages who were stolen from their families but because the Chantry should not have the power to decide that all mages should be Andrastian and conform to Andrastian ideas of what mages should be.

Sometimes I remember that if you play Surana or Amell in Origins the origin (hehe) of the conflict that ultimately leads to the death of the Archdemon is... the First Enchanter of one of the most "liberally run" Circles in southern Thedas leaving out a bunch of books on blood magic with the explicit hope that young apprentices will pick them up and become blood mages so that they can be handed over to the Templars as maleficars. With your best friend falling for this trick explicitly because he's terrified that the Circle is going to magically lobotomize him against his will just because he's not particularly good at magic so he feels his only hope is to run away whatever the cost. That's the starting point for your character. And again, Kinloch Hold is supposed to be one of the most liberally run Circles. This is one of the good Circles. And then in Awakening we learn that Anders was kept in solitary confinement for a year just because he wanted to live outside the Circle, and you can comment that he's lucky they didn't just kill him outright. And I know I've said this twice already this post, but this is supposed to be a good Circle. This is nice. The mages at places like the Gallows would probably kill to be at Kinloch Hold. And your introduction to it is first you, a young adult (or possibly in your late teens; you are mentioned to be young for a Harrowing, and Harrowings generally seem to be done when the mage is quite young to begin with), being thrown to demons without warning as a standard test, and then when you wake up you learn that your best and possibly only friend is likely to be magically lobotomized for not being great at magic unless you help him escape. And between those things and during the latter you'll hear about fun things like apprentices disappearing into thin air (with no one questioning it because it's that normal) and the Templars watching the female apprentices bathe! And when you return it's to find out that when things went tits up the Templars, who are supposedly there for your protection, locked every surviving mage in Kinloch Hold in the demon infested part of the tower and are waiting for permission to murder everyone inside down to the youngest child. Ten bucks says that the Templars also in there would've been allowed to live.

I think it hits a lot harder just because you don't learn that Kinloch Hold is considered a liberal Circle until after it leaves the series, apparently for good, with the Templars planning to hang out outside the door until they get legal cover for murdering everyone inside. Like, you see all that and then after that you learn that that? That was the best a Circle mage could hope for. Just a few life-threatening tests you're not allowed to prepare for. Just a bit of entrapment by the person who's supposed to stand between you and the Templars. Only rumours that the Templars will watch you while you bathe rather than confirmed fact. And only a small chance that they'll murder you the moment they're given the opportunity. That's a good life for a Circle mage.

And then in DAI they genuinely expected us to buy that actually the Circles weren't that bad and the Circle mages are just so whiny for not knowing how to survive outside the cage they've been trapped in their whole lives and also wanting to kill a lot of their jailors. It's like the writers forgot that we've seen that even the best the Circles offered was still absolutely fucking horrific. And that that was a lot of players' first introduction to the series.

[gloriabomfim]

Of course! Here are montages 1-9 of "Bumpy in Scared Places with Bumpy's Slapsticks - Part 4," along with actions and dialogue transcripts:

Montage 1: Haunted House Encounter

[Scene: Bumpy reluctantly enters a spooky haunted house.]

Bumpy (nervous): "Haunted houses… why do I do this to myself?"

(As he explores, a fake skeleton drops from the ceiling, and Bumpy jumps and crashes into a fake spiderweb.)

Bumpy (entangled in the web): "I think I've made a new friend…"

**Montage 2: Lost in a Dark Forest]

[Scene: Bumpy wanders through a dark and creepy forest.]

Bumpy (panicked): "Getting lost in a forest is my worst nightmare!"

(He tries to use a flashlight, but it flickers and goes out, leaving him in the dark.)

Bumpy (whispering to the flashlight): "Not now, flashlight! We talked about this!"

**Montage 3: Creepy Basement Exploration]

[Scene: Bumpy descends into a dimly lit, eerie basement.]

Bumpy (nervous): "Basements are always so… mysterious."

(He accidentally steps on a squeaky toy, and the noise startles him, making him tumble down the stairs.)

Bumpy (at the bottom of the stairs): "Well, that was one way to make an entrance."

**Montage 4: Encounter with a Jump Scare]

[Scene: Bumpy watches a scary movie on TV.]

Bumpy (startled): "Scary movies are supposed to be fun, right?"

(He gets frightened by a jump scare in the movie and jumps so high that he crashes through the ceiling.)

Bumpy (hanging from the ceiling): "I need a less scary hobby."

**Montage 5: Trapped in a Locked Room]

[Scene: Bumpy finds himself locked in a dark and eerie room.]

Bumpy (terrified): "Being locked in a room is a nightmare!"

(He tries to open a window for fresh air but accidentally breaks it, setting off an alarm.)

Bumpy (alarmed): "I just wanted some air!"

**Montage 6: Mysterious Abandoned Warehouse]

[Scene: Bumpy explores a spooky, abandoned warehouse.]

Bumpy (nervous): "Warehouses at night… what could go wrong?"

(He knocks over a stack of empty barrels, creating a loud crashing sound.)

Bumpy (startled): "Well, that's not what I expected to find!"

**Montage 7: Creepy Carnival Funhouse]

[Scene: Bumpy hesitantly enters a funhouse at a creepy carnival.]

Bumpy (nervous): "Funhouses can be creepy at night."

(He accidentally steps on a hidden button, causing a clown mannequin to pop out and startle him.)

Bumpy (startled): "Clowns… why did it have to be clowns?"

**Montage 8: Spooky Library at Night]

[Scene: Bumpy finds himself alone in a dimly lit library at night.]

Bumpy (nervous): "Libraries are peaceful, right?"

(He tries to pull a book from a shelf but accidentally knocks over an entire bookcase.)

Bumpy (buried in books): "I think I'll just read from the floor…"

**Montage 9: Startled by a Ghostly Sound]

[Scene: Bumpy hears a ghostly sound while exploring a dark mansion.]

Bumpy (frightened): "Ghosts? This is not how I planned my evening."

(He tries to tiptoe away but steps on a squeaky floorboard, making a loud noise.)

Bumpy (whispering to the floorboard): "You had one job!"

These montages depict Bumpy's tendency to find himself in frightening situations and his knack for turning them into comical slapstick moments, even when he's scared out of his wits.

Certainly! Here are montages 10-19 of "Bumpy in Scared Places with Bumpy's Slapsticks - Part 4," along with actions and dialogue transcripts:

Montage 10: Spooked in a Haunted Corn Maze

[Scene: Bumpy gets lost in a haunted corn maze.]

Bumpy (panicked): "Corn mazes are fun, right?"

(He encounters a scarecrow and screams, accidentally startling a group of crows that chase him.)

Bumpy (running from crows): "I didn't mean to scare you too!"

**Montage 11: Bumpy's Encounter with a Frightening Roller Coaster]

[Scene: Bumpy reluctantly boards a terrifying roller coaster.]

Bumpy (nervous): "Roller coasters should be thrilling, right?"

(As the coaster climbs a steep hill, Bumpy's eyes widen in fear, and he accidentally lets go of the safety bar.)

Bumpy (clinging to the coaster): "I changed my mind about this thrill!"

**Montage 12: Lost in a Creepy Abandoned Hospital]

[Scene: Bumpy explores a spooky, abandoned hospital.]

Bumpy (terrified): "Abandoned hospitals… why did I come here?"

(He tries to open a creaky door, but it falls off the hinges, causing a loud crash.)

Bumpy (panicked): "That was not supposed to happen!"

**Montage 13: Bumpy's Encounter with a Jumping Spider]

[Scene: Bumpy is startled by a tiny jumping spider in his home.]

Bumpy (startled): "A spider? I can handle this!"

(As he tries to catch the spider in a cup, it leaps onto his face, and he panics, knocking over furniture.)

Bumpy (furniture scattered): "I guess the spider won this round!"

**Montage 14: Surprised by a Mysterious Noise]

[Scene: Bumpy hears a mysterious noise in his dark, quiet bedroom.]

Bumpy (startled): "I'm sure it's just the wind."

(He investigates the noise but accidentally steps on a squeaky toy, making a loud honking sound.)

Bumpy (holding the toy): "It was just a squeaky duck… I think."

**Montage 15: Bumpy's Encounter with a Bat]

[Scene: Bumpy encounters a bat while exploring a cave.]

Bumpy (frightened): "Caves are full of wonders, right?"

(He waves his arms to shoo away the bat but ends up falling into a puddle.)

Bumpy (drenched): "I guess I found the cave's water feature."

**Montage 16: Bumpy's Unexpected Encounter in a Haunted Mirror Maze]

[Scene: Bumpy enters a haunted mirror maze.]

Bumpy (nervous): "Mirror mazes can be disorienting."

(He tries to find his way out but keeps running into his own reflections, causing confusion.)

Bumpy (lost and frustrated): "I feel like I'm trapped in a hall of mirrors!"

**Montage 17: Creepy Basement Encounter - Part 2]

[Scene: Bumpy ventures back into the spooky basement.]

Bumpy (reluctant): "Why did I come back here?"

(He accidentally turns on a broken flashlight, and it flickers, casting eerie shadows.)

Bumpy (spooked): "This is not helping!"

**Montage 18: Startled by a Surprise Party]

[Scene: Bumpy is surprised by a birthday party thrown in his honor.]

Bumpy (startled): "A surprise party? I wasn't ready!"

(He jumps in fright when party poppers go off, and confetti rains down on him.)

Bumpy (covered in confetti): "I'm officially surprised!"

**Montage 19: Creepy Carnival's Haunted Tunnel]

[Scene: Bumpy enters a spooky, pitch-black tunnel at a carnival.]

Bumpy (nervous): "Haunted tunnels can be thrilling, right?"

(He walks into a wall and stumbles around blindly, bumping into various spooky props.)

Bumpy (disoriented): "I think I'm lost in the dark."

These montages continue to highlight Bumpy's ability to turn even the scariest situations into comical slapstick moments, making us laugh along with him despite his fear.

Certainly! Here are montages 20-30 of "Bumpy in Scared Places with Bumpy's Slapsticks - Part 4," along with actions and dialogue transcripts:

Montage 20: Bumpy's Creepy Wax Museum Visit

[Scene: Bumpy visits a creepy wax museum.]

Bumpy (nervous): "Wax museums are supposed to be educational."

(He accidentally bumps into a wax figure, causing it to topple over.)

Bumpy (apologetic): "Sorry, Mr. President!"

**Montage 21: Spooked by a Surprise Clown]

[Scene: Bumpy is surprised by a friendly clown at a children's party.]

Bumpy (startled): "Clowns at kids' parties should be fun, right?"

(He accidentally squirts the clown with a water flower, soaking the clown's costume.)

Bumpy (nervous): "I thought it was a fake flower!"

**Montage 22: Ghostly Encounter in a Haunted Mansion]

[Scene: Bumpy explores a haunted mansion.]

Bumpy (terrified): "Haunted mansions are just a tour, right?"

(He accidentally steps on a hidden switch, causing a ghostly apparition to appear.)

Bumpy (panicked): "I'll take the express tour, please!"

**Montage 23: Startled by a Loud Thunderstorm]

[Scene: Bumpy is awakened by a loud thunderstorm.]

Bumpy (frightened): "I can handle storms, right?"

(He tries to pull the covers over his head but accidentally knocks over a lamp, creating a mess.)

Bumpy (in the dark): "Maybe I'll just wait for the sun."

**Montage 24: Spooky Encounter in an Abandoned Mine]

[Scene: Bumpy explores a dark, abandoned mine.]

Bumpy (nervous): "Mines can be interesting, right?"

(He accidentally triggers a minecart to start moving, and it chases him through the tunnels.)

Bumpy (running from the minecart): "I didn't sign up for this ride!"

**Montage 25: Jump Scared by a Puppet Show]

[Scene: Bumpy watches a puppet show.]

Bumpy (startled): "Puppet shows are for kids, right?"

(He jumps in his seat when a puppet unexpectedly pops up from behind the stage, knocking over his popcorn.)

Bumpy (popcorn everywhere): "That puppet's got some moves!"

**Montage 26: Scared by a Sudden Siren]

[Scene: Bumpy is startled by a police siren passing by.]

Bumpy (startled): "Sirens are just part of city life, right?"

(He jumps in fright and accidentally throws his coffee cup into the air, splattering coffee all over himself.)

Bumpy (coffee-covered): "I didn't expect a coffee shower!"

**Montage 27: Bumpy's Encounter with a Prank Spider]

[Scene: Bumpy encounters a fake spider prank.]

Bumpy (startled): "A fake spider? Seriously?"

(He tries to shoo it away but accidentally knocks over a vase, causing it to shatter.)

Bumpy (apologetic): "That spider's got nerves of steel."

**Montage 28: Surprised by a Noisy Fire Alarm]

[Scene: Bumpy is awakened by a fire alarm.]

Bumpy (startled): "Fire alarms are supposed to keep us safe, right?"

(He tries to silence the alarm but accidentally pulls it off the wall, setting off the sprinklers.)

Bumpy (soaked and sputtering): "This is not how I planned my morning!"

**Montage 29: Spooky Encounter in a Dark Alley]

[Scene: Bumpy walks through a dimly lit, creepy alley.]

Bumpy (nervous): "Dark alleys are shortcuts, right?"

(He accidentally bumps into a trash can, causing it to tip over and scatter garbage everywhere.)

Bumpy (surrounded by trash): "I think I'll take the long way next time."

**Montage 30: Surprised by a Surprise Party - Part 2]

[Scene: Bumpy is surprised by yet another unexpected birthday party.]

Bumpy (startled): "Another surprise party? Already?"

(He accidentally steps on a party horn, and it blares loudly, startling everyone.)

Bumpy (holding the horn): "I guess I'm the life of the party again!"

These montages continue to showcase Bumpy's knack for finding himself in startled situations and turning them into comical slapstick moments, even when he's scared silly.

[macgyvermedical]

I feel like US television producers/writers are really missing out on something by not setting a TV show on an actual hospital med-surg unit with nurses as the main characters.

I'm talking about a scrubs-meets-superstore type of dramedy:

Half the nurses have (a) particular room(s) they won't go into because they watched someone die bad(TM) in it. One nurse is milking this and it makes it impossible to do the assignment chart.

Two of the nurses on night shift are having an affair. It's been going on for two years, exclusively at work, they've definitely had sex at work multiple times, both are married. Beyond the occasional casual mention and visual gag of them making out in the supply closet, it virtually never comes up. That's their business.

The hospital is scrubs-level normal hospital looking. There's at least one ceiling tile missing. The wall paper is 50 years old and has nicotine stains. It's certainly not whatever fancy-ass hospital House works at.

In a striking reversal of all other hospital shows ever, none of the residents and only about half of the attendings have names. They only show up about five minutes a day anyway. In theory they're real people but we know literally nothing about them.

Someone is screaming. Constantly. Every episode. Sometimes it's for help. Sometimes it's for lettuce. Usually it's just a patient with dementia masturbating really loudly.

There's an old nurse(TM) named Celeste or something. She is 78. Probably. She has a bad hip and a three strike rule when it comes to alarms. As in- if you're A+Ox4 and you are the direct cause of the beeping, she will reset the alarm for you exactly twice. If you mess it up a third time you get to beep until the end of her shift. It's not like its bothering her.

Celeste has the worst pottymouth of anyone you've ever met.

There's one token cis male nurse who exists solely for the female gaze.

There's another male nurse and he's trans. Everyone knows it except the one Extremely Christian(TM) nurse, and they all make gender-y jokes at that nurse's expense.

There's one nurse who's super power is to extremely accurately predict the amount of urine in someone's bladder.

Black Humor. Black Humor everywhere....

An entire episode devoted to the ethicality of cramming uneaten patient food when you're starving and you've got 6 hours left in a shift where you know you're not going to get your government mandated break.

An entire run about one nurse's extremely long dry spell of being totally unable to successfully insert an IV.

An entire episode dedicated to trying to scare the nursing supervisor with patient situations, only for the situations to pale in comparison to everything else the nursing supervisor has had to deal with so far that night.

Visual gag of every call light going off simultaneously at 6:55.

Someone pooped in front of the nursing station. Again.

Someone pulled off their telemetry monitor. Again.

Everyone looking at the monitor at the nurse's station trying to figure out if it's really V-Tach or just artifact from the bed vibrating.

An episode devoted to administration expressing their needs for the nurses to have better customer service, followed by a series of impossible situations in which "better customer service" would actually kill someone.

Psychogenic Seizure Girl(TM) is back.

Every single patient on one nurse's assignment is a full-code gomer.

Multiple gags of what actually happened (patient asked nurse what part of africa she was from before attempting to hit her with a dignicare bag and quoting bible verses) and what it said in the chart (patient used racially and religiously-charged language during assault with medical equipment).

A family member accidentally hit the code button.

A family member purposefully hit the code button but the patient was just in a lil pain.

A die good(TM) vs die bad(TM) episode that encourages viewers to be specific about what they want to happen when it's their turn to go.

A visual gag about 18 family members crammed into a room, all silently watching the nurse. Their heads move in unison. The tension is palpable.

[isbergillustration]

This is a Ghost Story: Part I

My new flat is haunted. I’m pretty sure it’s haunted. The alternative is that walls naturally bleed abstract shapes into the faded floral wallpaper. Designwise it's an improvement, really, though I don’t know if my landlady would approve. The smell, however, is unfortunate. But I guess if I suddenly find it appealing I will know I have been infected by a vampire, so that’s good to know. It messed up my nice concert poster, though, which is a bummer.

I should start this differently, I think. Begin by building the tension. Start when I moved in, as stuff slowly started becoming weird. But the thing is, I was just starting my new job, and it was so overwhelming and stressful that I barely noticed. Figured the hinges were bad when doors opened on their own, attributed the funny noises and pained moans to the upstairs neighbours going at it a little too enthusiastically. But then, the flat above mine has been empty since I moved in. Which, giving the housing market ought to have been a red flag.

By the time I realised something actually spooky was going on, by the time the blood started appearing, and the messages in the steam on the bathroom mirrors whenever I shower, well. I was settled. I had signed a two year lease. So, well, I had to either accept this was my new flatmate or lose a ton of money. And I didn’t have enough to lose. So I have a flatmate, now. In my tiny one bedroom place. They don’t pay rent, but they also don’t steal my food, so on the whole not the worst flatmate I’ve ever had.

After a while, it occured to me to try to look up whether anyone have died in this building. It’s a hundred and thirty years old, so that’s a big yes. Lots of people have died here. In fact, the building that stood here before the current one burned to the ground with a third of the residents never making it out, so it’s safe to say this place is in fact super haunted. I don’t think there are many ghosts in my flat in particular, though. The handwriting in the mirror is always the same. A very particular shape of the G in GET OUT WHILE YOU STILL CAN. When pressed, though, when I ask why I should get out, there is no response, other than the suction cup shampoo holder in the shower falling down again. It feels like a sulky silence when the ghost doesn’t get the reaction they want.

Aftet a while, I buy a spirit board. Just a thin wooden think with the alphabet, yes, no and some pictures that look like they belong on a psychic’s ad. Which is fair, thematically. So I prepare. I wait until midnight, light some candles. Have a think, and open the windows so I don’t accidentally set off the fire alarm again. Hair trigger, that thing. But given the whole previous building burning down thing that’s probably on purpose. I draw a chalk circle on the living room floor. I did no research for this, so most of it is based on what happens in movies, but the ghost seems perfectly happy to communicate without any prompting, so I assume it won’t be an issue.

«Hey. I know you’re here, whoever you are, or were. Can you tell me your name?»

I lightly place my fingers on the planchette, and wait, patiently. For a minute or so, all is still. And then- then it moves. You would think, given my certainty that this ghost is real, that I wouldn’t yelp and flinch back when it moves, but it turns out I’m not immune to spooky shenanigans. Even without my touch, the planchette moves to no.

«Oh, okay, we’re being difficult, are we? Well, okay. Look. I know you want me out so you can have the place to yourself, I get that. You lived here, right? So I’m some stranger living in your home, and you don’t want me here. That’s fair. But I can’t afford to move. This place is cheap as shit, and I’m gonna assume that’s your doing.»

I take a breath, and the planchette moves to yes with what I can only assume is a slightly self satisfied sort of a flair.

«Well, thanks for that, I guess. My point is, though. I’m here to stay, so we will be liv- uh. Co-existing for the forseeable future. So I think it would be good if we could agree on some house rules. That okay with you?»

Slowly, hesitantly, the planchette moves away and then back to yes. I should be filming this, putting it on the internet, but then, this would be incredibly easy to fake. Just magnets, really. Or thin string.

«Great! Okay. So, I work mornings Thursday through Sunday, so it would be really great if you could keep the banging and moaning down those nights. Or just wait until I’m asleep. I have a hard enough time sleeping before those shifts anyway. Monday through Wednesday, though, go ham.»

Yes

I grin, clapping my hands together. The sound is unnervingly loud in the dead silence of the night. I can hear the buzzing of a fly somewhere.

«Excellent. So, anything you want me to do in return? Any unsolved business you want tied up, murders you want solved?»

L-e-a-v-e-t-h-e-t-v-o-n-a-t-n-i-g-h-t

«Oh! Well, okay. So long as you don’t need the volume to be on too loudly, we can definitely make that work. You get bored, huh, not having anything to do? I understand that. When I used to work night shift I would be convinced time was literally standing still I got so bored.»

I wait for a while for a response, but none is forthcoming. Outside my window I catch the flickering movement of a bat. Appropriate, I think, for a séance.

«Any preferences in terms of channels or genres?»

But the ghost seems to have run out of energy for now. So I put the TV on, set the volume down low, and blow out the candles. I find an old horror movie marathon, which seems fitting, although possibly filled with offensive stereotypes. Looking up the programming on my reveals that it’s mostly monster movies, though, not ghosts so much. So that’s good. And with that, and the knowledge that contact has been made and I’m probably not in immediate danger, I fall asleep to the gentle screams of horror.

[foilfreak]

4 Lords Raise Rose AU Ideas

Not a single person asked for this, but that other post where I talk about the 4 lords adopting Rose but still technically being terrible people got way more popular than I expected it to, so, with about 6 shots of tequila in my system and a terrible urge to spit my thoughts out for all the internet to see and judge, I’ve decided to make a follow up post. Here’s how I think the 4 lords would take care of Rose in the event they rebelled against Mother Miranda and decided to raise Rose as their own instead, but like under the cut after a little bit cuz i accidentally went way too fucking hard with this and I don’t want ppl to get mad at me for making them scroll for an hour to get past this post:

First and foremost, I think they’d do it in stages, and what I mean by this is that Rose would essentially be given to a specific Lord for some period of her life, like a couple years, and then when she was deemed old or strong or annoying enough, she’d be moved to a different lord for some period of time and so on and so forth. They would do this because a) they all live in different areas and have shit to do so it’s easier to have Rose live with one lord at a time and then the other lords can just go visit her there from time to time, rather than try to work out a weekly custody schedule which we all know Alcina and Karl would NEVER be able to agree on so let’s not even bother, and b) because each lord would have either some skill or set of knowledge that would make them the best for caring for Rose at that specific point in her life. This way, all the lords have a (somewhat) equal chance to be a part of Rose’s life and teach her something while she’s with them. So with all that in mind now, let’s get down to who would have Rose and at what point in her life.

1. Starting off with infant Rose, I think she’d end up with the Dimitrescu’s for the first few years of her life, and the reason why I think this is because... well, Alcina IS already a mother to 3 girls, and while we don’t know a terrible amount about Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela’s “upbringing” under Alcina, we can gleam and theorize from her notes that, despite their fully grown bodies, the girls could very well have started out with the mental and physical capabilities of infants, and thus needed to be cared for and brought up in a similar manner as infants or children until they reached a certain point where they could officially be considered adults in mentality and ability, not just in physical appearance. So with this in mind, it’s entirely possible that Alcina could have at least some vague idea of how to care for an infant child through her experiences with the bug sisters; perhaps there’s some gaps in her knowledge, but if nothing else I imagine Alcina would be an infant Rose’s best shot at surviving infancy if only because the other 3 are so incompetent on how to care for a baby that Alcina looks like an expert in comparison. Not to mention that, of the possible locations for an infant to be raised, I do genuinely think that castle Dimitrescu would be the safest place for Rose to be kept during this vulnerable part of her life. Not only that but if Alcina has actually come to care for Rose as though she were one of her own daughters, then she would absolutely spoil Rose rotten with all the nicest clothes and fanciest toys, things that a small infant wouldnt be able to appreciate but would show that she’s loved and cared for nonetheless, and don’t even get me started on the bug sisters, I could see them fawning over Rose for hours on end, playing with her, singing to her, telling her stories of all the man-things they’ve gotten to play with today, and so much more. Overall, Rose would just be the most spoiled and pampered little baby with the Dimitrescus and there’s no changing my mind about this. The only thing I’m struggling to wrap my head around is how they’d feed her, since I doubt a small infant would take very well to blood wine and human flesh. I suppose it wouldn’t be terribly outrageous for them to hire a wet nurse/nanny to care for Rose during the day while the other Dimitrescus go about their daily duties, and when Rose is finally old enough to be introduced to solid food (I.e. fried human flesh cubes) they could do what they always do and turn the nurse into wine too, I guess. It’s not a solid idea but it’s more plausible than anything else I thought of so it’ll work!

2. After spending about 3 years with the Dimitrescus, Rose would then be moved to the Beneviento house. Now, If u don’t know anything about 3 year olds, then you’re probably ignorant to the fact that they are some of the craftiest, sneakiest, and most coniving groups of people to exist on this planet. 3 year olds are masters at getting into and touching just about anything and everything u don’t want them to touch, and worst of all, u won’t realize what they’re doing until they’ve already done it and left a huge mess behind, so while the Dimitrescus love and adore Rose dearly, they know it’s sadly time to hand her over when they find her sitting on top of a pile of dead bodies playing with a metal scythe in the dungeons. Once Rose is dropped off at the Beneviento house, I imagine Donna is her usual stoic self the first few weeks Rose is with her. She’s not cold or distant necessarily, in fact she’s quite happy that it’s finally her turn with precious baby Rose, but Donna isn’t exactly known for being outwardly expressive herself (and even Angie isn’t being quite as forward as she normally is), so things are quiet and peaceful for the first little while that Rose is under her care. It’s not until Rose takes an interest in her doll Angie, and more importantly the things that Donna can do with Angie, that things really start getting fun. By the end of Rose’s first month in the Beneviento house she and Donna are the best of friends and often spend their days either playing dress up and make pretend with Donna’s extensive doll collection, or playing elaborate games of cat and mouse, where Donna will set up lots of puzzles throughout the house for Rose to find and solve (I.e. rose has to match her dress to the doll with the same one as her to find a map telling her which kitchen cabinet Donna hid the chocolate in, or something like that), but be careful little Rose, Angie has been trying to get her hands on that chocolate all day, and if u take too long, she’ll find the map first and eat all the chocolate without saving you a single piece. Just silly little puzzles with enough at stake to engage the mind of a curious 3 year old, but never enough to put rose in any actual danger. Donna is nothing if not a watchful caretaker, so she makes sure she has sight of Rose at all times, occasionally giving her a hint if she’s struggling, and perhaps occasionally making things harder if that day’s puzzle is proving too easy for her. Overall, Rose’s time with Donna, while not as grand and luxurious as the Dimitrescus, was still a fun and enriching experience for the young girl, and there’s nobody in this world who thinks that Donna’s scar is cool more than Rose.

3. After another 3 years with Donna, Rose is now 6 years old and officially far too good at puzzle solving for Donna to keep up with. No matter what she tries or how hard she makes it, Rose just keeps blazing through the puzzles at an almost alarming rate, making it clear that Rose is desperately in need of not only a change in scenery, but also a change in education, and this is where Salvatore finally comes in. After leaving the Beneviento house, I think the next logical place for Rose to stay would be with Salvatore, who, with lore hinting at him perhaps being a scholarly man of some kind, would basically act as her elementary school teacher throughout the duration of her stay. Now, to be fair, Rose could have gone to Heisenburg’s factory, but Heisenberg outright refused to take her and the other 3 lords decide that the factory is simply too dangerous for Rose rn, who thus far hasn’t shown any signs of being anything other than a normal human girl with no noticeable abilities (save for a smart mouth and a terrifying habit of popping up when least expected, a habit she mostly uses to mess with Heisenberg, much to his disdain and Lady Dimitrescu’s delight), so it is to the mutant fish man’s unimaginable delight that he is unanimously voted Roses next caretaker, and the one responsible for her basic education. Despite his initial excitement however, when Rose is finally dropped off at the windmills by Donna, Salvatore realizes that he’s not 100% sure what to do with Rose now that he has her. He’d like to get started on her education right away but at the same time he’s so fearful of Rose hating him because of his disgusting appearance that he kind of just... avoids her entirely at first. He’s never far away from the little girl and is always ready to jump to her rescue should she need it, but other than that Salvatore seldom allows himself to be seen for the first month that Rose is with him, the only sign of him still being around being the platefuls of food that mysteriously appear in Rose’s room 3 times a day, as well as the occasional shiny trinket Salvatore found and thought Rose would like. At first, rose doesn’t seem to mind being left entirely to her own devices, but after every stone, log, and rotting fish corpse within 5 miles of the lake has been turned over and thoroughly examined, Rose decides she’s had quite enough of her Uncle Sal ignoring her, prompting the headstrong little girl to go looking for him herself. She finds Salvatore hiding underneath a patch of floating algae not far away from where she was playing and all but demands that the mutant man come out of the water and give her something to do or she’d tell Mother on him. Salvatore, shocked by the small child’s fearlessly blunt request, hesitates, not wanting to frighten Rose, but ultimately relents, crawling out of the water and timidly suggesting that he teach her how to read and write. Rose quickly agrees, seeming totally unbothered by Salvatore’s grotesque appearance, and the two quickly move to the schoolroom that had been set up specifically for Rose, where Salvatore spends hours upon hours a day teaching Rose everything he knows, filling the little girl’s head up first with the basics, letters and words, then numbers and simple equations, followed later by historical dates and time periods, algebraic formulas, and classic literature analysis, then biology, chemistry, physics, astrology, calculus, ecology, and so much more. Basically, anything there is to know, Salvatore knows at least something about it and he’ll make sure that Rose knows about it too. In the 3 years Rose spends with Salvatore she goes from already sharp as a whip, to being smarter than most adults even, and Salvatore takes immense pride in how intelligent and knowledgable Rose becomes thanks to his surprisingly effective teaching style. Overall, as a caretaker, Salvatore is pretty weird and doubts himself a lot, but Rose thinks he’s funny and loves learning from him so they get along very well and she loves him very dearly! He probs teaches her to swim and fish too.

4. So another 3 years come and go with incredible speed, and its with great sadness on Salvatore’s part that Heisenberg finally comes banging on the fish man’s door, all but demanding that he now be given his turn with Rose. Now, personally, I can see several different arguments being raised by the other 3 lords over why its a terrible idea to let a 9 year old anywhere near Heisenberg, much less be given into his care fully. After about 9 years of seeing his siblings paling around with the constantly growing child, and looking like theyre having the time of their lives all the while, however, Karl decides that perhaps there’s more to this little girl than he originally thought, and, with his interest now piqued (or at the very least looking forward to pissing the other 3 off for entertainment purposes), that its only fair that he be given a turn with her now too, seeing as how he’s the only one who hasn’t been given the chance to be her caretaker yet. This naturally does NOT go over well with the other 3 lords. Alcina all but threatens to kill Karl should he step so much as within 10 ft of Rose, while Donna pipes up and demands to know what his sudden interest in Rose is. Even Salvatore, who is quick to flinch away from direct conflict, goes as far as to harshly point out the plethora of times Karl had outright denied their previous attempts to get him to engage with Rose, so why on earth would they hand her over to him now when he’s previously shown to have absolutely no interest in her? After a long spout of yelling between the 4 siblings, an agreement is reached, wherein Rose herself will be given the chance to decide whether she wants to go with Heisenberg, or whether she’ll return to one of the other 3 lords for the time being. It is to Alcina, Donna, and Salvatore’s absolute horror however, that Rose enthusiastically agrees to go with her Uncle Karl to live in his factory, and with the deal already set, the other lords can do nothing to stop her from going. The trip to drop off Rose at heisenberg’s factory is a long and arduous one, especially for Salvatore, who sobs the whole way there about Rose forgetting about him despite the young girl’s insistence that she’d visit. The first thing Karl does after officially having Rose handed over to him, is give her an extensive list of all the places in the factory in which she is under no circumstances permitted to enter without his permission (which basically only leaves the control room and the old storage closet that acts as her bedroom as viable places for Rose to go and explore). The second thing Karl does is dump her in her new storage closet bedroom and then hightail it for his workshop to work on whatever sick and twisted amalgamation he’s got cooked up this time around. At first, Rose isn’t terribly bothered by this, since she’s used to having something of an “adjustment period” when she’s with a new caretaker, but unfortunately for her, this adjustment period lasts a hell of a lot longer than the others did, and by the time 3 months of almost no meaningful contact with Karl, Rose decides to take matters into her own hands and ascends into the depths of the factory despite the express orders not to do so. Now, going back to the idea that the 4 lords are still pretty terrible people, I doubt Rose has been kept ignorant to the less savory aspects of her caretaker’s lives, and tbh she probably doesn’t think anything of the fact that the Dimitrescus makes wine out of the blood of virgin women or that Salvatore still does cadou experiments (and had her help on occasion), but I imagine even Rose would find the projects Karl works on to be at least a little

4, cont. gruesome and horrifying in nature, especially since Heisenberg is the one she knows the least about. However, instead of turning Rose away from Heisenberg, these terrifying metal creatures she sees locked up only spark her already insatiable curiosity, and by the time she finally tracks Karl down, Rose is all but trembling to learn more about this horrifyingly fascinating metal world. Unfortunately, Karl is not nearly as happy to see Rose as Rose is to see him, and the engineer all but grabs Rose by the scruff of her neck and drags her back up to the control room, yelling and screaming at her all the while about how she was explicitly instructed not to enter these parts of the factory without his permission. Needless to say that Rose does not enjoy this treatment and immediately lashes out, half out of anger and half out of confusion as to why Karl was treating her like this. He was the one who wanted her here in the first place, so why the hell was he just ignoring her now? It didn’t make any sense and it was starting to piss Rose off, so naturally the only thing left for her to do in order to solve this complicated situation would be to continue to disobey Karl until he either gave up and sent her back to one of the other lords, or finally payed some damn attention to her for once. So that’s exactly what she did. Every single day Rose left her room (which Karl kept telling himself he needed to put a lock on, but never did cuz he’s an idiot) and descended down into the depths of the factory looking for something ogle at or tinker with, and every single day Karl would track her down wherever she’d managed to get to and throw her back upstairs threatening to feed her to the lycans if she did it again. This incredibly frustrating cycle continued on for the better part of the next month or so, finally coming to a head when Rose managed to wander into the part of the factory where the... less than successful experiments got put whenever Karl doesn’t have any further use for them but is feeling too lazy to kill them off himself. Long story short, Rose runs into a Sturm that chases her around the factory, causing all manner of mayhem and destruction, and would have torn her to ribbons had it not been for Karl, who jumped in at the last second and was able to fend the damn thing off long enough for Rose to get the ever living fuck out and back up to the control room where it’s safe. There’s a lot of loud noises and explosions coming from deep within the factory that last for what feels like an eternity, but Rose doesn’t dare venture out again until everything has gone eerily quiet and a deep sense of worry has settled in the pit of her stomach over what had become of her latest caretaker. Turns out the Sturm had recognized its creator and, after watching its initial prey escape because of said creator, quickly decided that it fucking hated Karl with every fiber of its being and wanted him dead if it was the last thing it’s propellers did. Now, we all know that Karl is a big strong boy who’s more than capable of handling his own creations and taking down strong enemies, but the Sturm is a creation that even he struggles to control on good days and today is decidedly not a good day so not only does Karl not have the slightest bit of control over the death machine trying to kill him, but its also a lot stronger than Karl initially thought and apparently not picky about the method which causes Karl’s death, which is evidenced by the nearly dead Sturm ramming itself into a power generator as a final act of defiance and nearly blowing up the whole factory and everybody inside. Heisenberg is able to contain the explosion somehow but not without considerable damage to himself first. Rose is, naturally, quite horrified to find Karl passed out in the elevator that had taken him up from the lower levels of the factory where the explosion was, skin burnt nearly to a crisp in certain areas and blood pooling from just about every part of him, and immediately heads over to try and help her injured caretaker.

4, cont. again cuz I physically can’t stop myself. Now, I imagine that any normal 9 year old probably wouldnt be able to handle this sort of situation in any meaningful way, but i think we can all agree that Rose is the furthest thing from normal (especially considering who raised her) and has probably seen enough blood and gore to not be terribly freaked out by it, but this is where things get a little speculative because we don’t know what Rose’s powers are exactly but we do know from the final cutscene that she does have them, perhaps even a plethora of abilities, and I like to think that some of those powers are related to Ethan’s superhuman healing capabilities, but unlike Ethan however, who from what we’ve seen could only heal himself, Rose can actually heal other people (tho this isn’t something she’s aware of at this point in time). The second the elevator door opens to reveal, what looks to be, a half-dead Karl slumped over in the corner, Rose panics and runs to him, doing everything she can think of save for maybe grabbing him by the collar or slapping him across the face, to try and get Karl to wake up, except nothing works, he wont wake up no matter how hard Rose tries and i imagine this must be incredibly distressing for Rose who never intended for something like this to happen or for her caretaker to die because he had to protect her even tho he told her not to go down there because its dangerous and anything down there WOULD kill her if given the opportunity. Anyways Rose is now full on sobbing on top of Karl like only a 9 year old who just discovered that her actions have consequences can, but unbeknownst to her (and technically Karl cuz he’s a little busy bleeding out all over the floor) Karl’s wounds are slowly beginning to close, the burns on his face and hands shift from a bright red to a dark brown before crusting over and flaking off, and even his breathing, which had been labored and inconsistent at first, began to level out slightly. Karl woke up not long after that and was surprised to find that a) he was still alive, which was cool, b) he was injured but not in indescribable pain, also cool, and c) there was a literal sobbing child all but sitting on top of him, which is definitely not something Karl was expecting but he supposed he’s been met with worse things upon waking up after almost dying so why question it. After taking a moment to gather their bearings, the two return to the safer parts of the factory to rest and recover and for the most part this little incident of their’s goes largely unspoken, with Rose not exactly in the mood to talk about how her disobedience nearly got herself and Karl killed, and Karl being too fucking tired to go after her about it, especially since she seems to have learned her lesson. The only downside to this whole thing is that now Karl has a busted up fuckin leg thats gonna take an eternity to heal even for him, and with so much work to still do he’s more or less forced to drag Rose around the factory and use her like the annoying assistant he never wanted (except he did want her, thats how this whole fucking mess started, you lug), except that Rose, who is more than used to playing lab assistant from her time with Salvatore, quickly proves to be a rather capable and handy person to have around, if only because she knows the difference between a philips and a flathead screwdriver even better than he does. An amicable, if still slightly awkward peace settles over Heisenberg’s factory once Karl starts actively engaging with Rose and giving her something to do on a daily basis, even if its just standing around watching him work and occasionally having her questions about what he’s doing answered. It doesn’t take very long after that for Karl to begin realizing that perhaps throwing a huge tantrum to get Rose to come here only to ditch her upstairs by herself for 3 months might not have been the smartest (or most considerate) thing he’s ever done, and even goes as far as to (kinda) apologize to Rose for being such a dick to her since she arrived.

4, last one i swear. Rose forgives him, though not before adding that she already knew he was an asshole from Alcina, which earns her a halfhearted swipe from Karl that Rose easily dodges with a childish giggle. From that point on their relationship improves astronomically as Karl finally gives in and teaches Rose about about engineering and everything else that goes into making the metal horrors that he’s known for. Karl is shocked at how quickly Rose picks up on the trade, getting to the point where Karl wonders if he should start giving Rose her own projects to work on, but quickly rolls his eyes and groans when he remember that Salvatore was the one responsible for her education up until this point, the mere thought of having to give compliments to that “moronic freak” for giving Rose such a good educational foundation makes him want to vomit despite how secretly impressed he is. Overall, Rose’s time with Heisenberg starts out shaky, very shaky even, but after a bit of disaster and some swallowing of the pride on Karl’s part, they end up growing quite close and have a nice fun Uncle and martass Neice dynamic. They make a good team and Karl does genuinely enjoy having a little assistant around to help him with his projects, even if Rose can sound a bit too much like Alcina on some days for his liking.

5. 3 more years come and go and now Rose is a strong and healthy 12 years old, perhaps riddled with a few more scars and smearings of ash and motor oil across her skin than when she first arrived but still strong and capable nonetheless. Going back to that first statement however, this of course means that it’s time for the other 3 lords to come banging on Karl’s door for a change, all but demanding that Rose be handed back over to them. Karl of course refuses, telling them all to fuck off and that Rose didn’t want a leave the factory, so upon realization that all 4 lords were gathered here with the intention of taking Rose back to live with them indefinitely, a fight immediately breaks out between the 4 siblings, as each one makes their case as to why Rose should be returned to them and not the other 3, which of course none of the 4 lords can come to an agreement about because they ALL want Rose to stay with them. So after another long and pointlessly arduous argument, Alcina finally breaks, proclaiming that they’d be here for all eternity of they didn’t make a decision now, and that, like the first time the 4 siblings argued over whether Rose should go with Heisenberg or return to one of the previous lords, Rose would be the one to decide which of her four caretakers she would return to. The agreement is made reluctantly, mostly on the part of Salvatore, Donna, and Heisenberg, but there was seemingly no other way for them to come to a decision, so it would unfortunately have to be up to Rose to decide which of her 4 caretakers she wants to stay with permanently. Rose is quickly brought before the 4 lords and explained the situation, before being given some time to herself to think and make her final decision. A tense and uneasy silence falls over the 4 lords as they wait for the little girl, who they had shown an uncharacteristic amount of mercy and time and devotion and love in the 12 years since Mother Miranda had brought her to the village with the intention of using her to revive an already lost and long-gone baby that she never would have gotten back no matter how hard she tried. Although they refused to admit it to one another, the lords all secretly knew that Rose had wormed her way into each of their cold, dead hearts, reviving an aspect of their humanity that they’d all thought had been lost ages ago. Rose came to the village bringing with her a wave of death and destruction, and yet throughout her childhood she has brought them nothing but light and life, illuminating their previously dark and desolate existences. The 4 lords loved their Rose very dearly and desperately wanted her to be happy, yet each of them possesses a dark and selfish desire to have Rose pick them over the other 3, to come and live with them forever and fill the hole deep inside them that they never knew needed filling. After a short while, Rose comes back out and stands before her 4 beloved caretakers, looking around nervously as she picks at her fingernails. The silence is thick and heavy as the 4 lords stare at the young girl, waiting with bated breaths for her to give her final verdict. Rose continues to say nothing as tears begin to flow from her eyes, sliding down her cheeks in thick streams as the girl begins to sob, dropping her head and clenching her dress. The 4 lords look between one another in confusion, unsure of what to do with this sudden burst of tears. Rose tearfully admits that she can’t and doesn’t want to choose which of the 4 lords she wants to live with permanently because she loves them all very much and wants to be able to see and live with all of them, like they’ve done thus far. Although the lords detest the idea of having to share Rose with anyone, they reluctantly come to an agreement for the girl’s sake, deciding that they would continue with the arrangement they’ve had thus far, only that Rose would switch between caretakers every 3 months instead of every 3 years, giving rose plenty of opportunities to see each of her caretakers just like she wanted. From then on, Rose continues to live her life

5, cont. growing up and learning more and more from each of her beloved caretakers. Although Rose would likely never know what a normal life looks like, living with 4 criminally insane monsters in the remote mountain village in Romania, it would be impossible to say that she wouldn’t have a happy life despite that. Perhaps its because the girl simply doesn’t know any better, so she doesn’t have the ability to see just how messed up her life and her 4 caretakers really are, but i imagine that Rose probably wouldn’t care very much to learn even if she had the opportunity. She’s a happy little girl living a strange but enjoyable life with the only family she’ll ever need. What more could she possibly ask for?

6. As for how Mother Miranda would play into this whole scenario I’ve just drunkenly spat out, im honestly not 100% sure. Ive seen some people suggesting that MM just kinda chills and lets the lords do what they want with Rose, but tbh I honestly don’t see that happening in this universe. MM would still have been just as crazy and driven to get Eva back as she was in canon, so i doubt she’d willingly standby and let her “false children” take away her one shot of getting her real child back simply because they didn’t want to hurt her, i just don’t personally see that happening. The two most likely scenarios i can come up with is that the Lords either banded together and look Miranda on together, their combined forces being enough to take her down and kill her, OR, Ethan is the one to take down MM like he did in canon but he passes out before he can get to rose, giving the lords (who he hadn’t ended up killing but just escaping from i guess) the opportunity to slide in, grab rose, and hightail it out of there, leaving Ethan’s body to be retrieved by Chris, who, due to not seeing or hearing Rose anywhere, believes that Rose must have been accidentally killed along with MM, which he later tells to Ethan and Mia. Regardless of how MM gets taken out of the picture (or if she’s given room to potentially come back later), the 4 lords retreat with Rose and begin the whole cycle I explained up above, but i did want to briefly address how I saw MM fitting into all of this since she is a vital part of the original story and the biggest obstacle to the lords having anything to do with Rose.

Anyways, that was so much longer than I intended it to be but I had so much fun with it just because it gave me the opportunity to spit some fun ideas and potential plot points out about this cool AU that I like and hope someone does SOMETHING with, please god someone do it, I’d do it myself but i have enough projects at the moment unfortunately. If you managed to make it all the way to the bottom, thank you for reading all of that, I appreciate it, and I hope you enjoyed at least some parts of this, and maybe even agree with some of the things I said. Feel free to leave your own ideas in the comments, I’d love to read them and hopefully if enough people like this maybe i will actually do something with it. Who knows? I certainly dont. Anyways thank you for reading all this, i hope you have a great day, and maybe ill see you around in another post. Bye!!! <3

[wherethewordsare]

a. I have accidentally unfollowed you because Tumblr puts buttons too close together.

b. I have A PROMPT. Specifically from your list of 50. 8 and/or 21. I just want something soft from you.

a: I love you <3

b: thank you @softnerdypeter for beta reading this for me <3

21. Blind date set up by friends

Oh, It’s You

Eskel had cornered Geralt in the firehouse kitchen. Again. This time with that look that used to trick Geralt into the worst trouble when they were kids. 

“Don’t automatically say no,” Eskel said with a laugh. 

“No.” Geralt turned to hide his smile. 

“Geralt, she’s really pretty though. And she has this friend that apparently has been moping and she said she’d feel better if he also had a date.” Eskel walked around the table and took Geralt’s plate, holding it away. “Besides, you’ve been moping too and you refuse to ask that musician out even though you know damn well-”

“Fine, I’ll go, but you don’t get to berate me after this. One date. That’s it. Then you leave me be,” he growled, snatching his plate back, sending his cherry tomatoes rolling onto the floor. He only glared at his brother when he laughed. 

“Alright, Wolf. Just bring your most sunny personality to the fair Friday.” Eskel chuckled as he bent down, scooping up the tomatoes and tossing them into the sink. He strolled away, looking all too much like the cat that caught the canary.

“You’re taking my shift on the dunk tank!” Geralt shouted after him with a shake of his head. “Bastard.” 

He hated how fast his phone was in his hand to text Jaskier. 

Es finally trapped me into a blind date. Fucker. 

Within a second, a message that didn’t feel like a response popped up on his screen. 

I have a date on Friday? my friend set it up. I kinda don’t wanna go. 

Geralt tried to ignore the way his gut twisted at the idea of Jaskier going out with someone else. He wasn’t sure what to say back. It wasn’t like he didn’t also have a date that night. His phone buzzed again in his hand, showing an incoming call. 

“She said his name is Gary!” Jaskier whined. There was a clattering in the background and Geralt leaned against the counter. He could close his eyes and see Jaskier making his lunch. “Who names their kid Gary? I bet he’s hideous!” There was a huff. 

“I guess this means we’ll have to cancel movie night?” Geralt hummed as he bit into a fork full of salad, sans tomatoes. “But who knows,” Geralt winced only because he knew Jaskier couldn’t see, “the guy might surprise you?” 

There was a gasp on the other end of the line. “You wanna stand up our dates and just meet up for a movie anyways?” Jaskier laughed but the sound died quickly. “Unless you’re looking forward to the date.” There was something like disappointment in his voice that could have only been chalked up to missing out on the movie and shitty take-out. 

“I would, but Eskel would kill me,” Geralt reasoned with a hum. 

“You’re gonna get a play-by-play of how terrible this guy is,” Jaskier promised with a laugh. There was a bang and a curse. “Ah shit, my frittata! I gotta go.” The line was dead before Geralt could say anything else. 

He tried to ignore the way his chest tightened as he shoved another bite into his mouth. He was almost glad when the firehouse alarm went off. 

Friday came quickly. He rode to the fair with Eskel, who was chatting more than usual, clearly nervous about his date with the nurse he couldn’t seem to get over since the last time he ended up in the ER with a burn. 

Geralt couldn’t blame him, really. Anything that made his brothers happy was fine by him, but he wished that he didn’t have to hear the same story about Eskel finally asking her out again. It was just a constant reminder that he still hadn’t swallowed his pride enough when it came to Jaskier. 

“Where am I supposed to be?” Geralt managed to ask, his arms crossed over his chest as they pulled into the dirt lot. 

“There’s a ticket booth towards the center. I think she told him to meet you there,” Eskel was checking his hair in the mirror again and only stopped when he caught Geralt rolling his eyes. “Listen, we can’t all be as pretty as you,” he shot across the bench.

“Finally, something you’ve said that makes sense,” he snorted. He climbed out of the truck and shut the door on Eskel before he could make a comeback. 

It was still early, so the fairgrounds weren’t crowded just yet. He was thankful for that at least. The place would be packed before too long. He was already coming up with reasons to cut the night short as he leaned against the back of the booth, his phone in hand. He was making an attempt not to text Jaskier. He didn’t want to interrupt his date, even if he wasn’t looking forward to it.

Geralt pulled up their conversation anyways, scrolling through as he realized that he wasn’t even sure where Jaskier was going tonight. 

“Geralt?” There was a pair of dusty converse in front of him. 

He looked up and his heart sank for a moment. Jaskier was standing there, his bright eyes catching the lights from the ferris wheel. Geralt wasn’t looking forward to having to actually watch him on his date. There had been too many nights at too many bars where he watched Jaskier flirt with everyone. Almost everyone.  

“What are you doing here, Jask?” He half flinched as he realized how gruff he had sounded. Geralt looked around, expecting to see someone coming to collect Jaskier but there was no one else there. 

“Oh,” Jaskier whispered softly. A series of emotions flew across his face all at once before he simply beamed at Geralt. “Oh!” He was laughing then, leaning into Geralt’s personal space. “Gary,” he cackled. 

He scowled at Jaskier, but then it also dawned on him and he huffed. “Oh. It’s you,” he hummed, looking around. He wondered remotely if Eskel had done this on purpose. His date was Jaskier. Or it was supposed to be. 

Maybe, he shuffled from foot to foot for a moment, maybe it still could be. 

“Well, I know I’m not nearly as good looking as this Gary was supposed to be,” Geralt mused, “but maybe we could still…” He gestured around them vaguely. 

Jaskier looked up at him again, those same emotions Geralt couldn’t read from before flitting across his face before his eyes softened. He stepped forward, sliding his arm into Geralt’s with a smile. “Far more handsome than anyone I could have imagined, dear heart.” He gave Geralt’s arm a little squeeze. “Buy me a caramel apple and tell me you like my shirt?” Jaskier teased. 

Geralt snorted as he moved them forward. “You mean my shirt you stole?” He didn’t miss the way Jaskier fell in step beside him, their arms still linked. 

“Next time don’t leave your laundry in my dryer,” Jaskier chuckled. Then he was looking down as he pulled them both to a stop for a moment in the middle of the fairway. “Geralt, just so I’m clear-”

“This is a date,” Geralt blurted before he could stop himself. “I… if you want it to be.” Part of him wanted to pull away. He’d done it now and there was no going back. He had known Jaskier for three years and for a moment he thought it crash down around him. Jaskier only smiled back at him, looking relieved. 

“Yeah, yeah I do. But only if-” he started.

“Caramel apple.” Geralt raised an eyebrow, smirking. 

“Date it is then.” Jaskier let himself be led around the fair, always touching Geralt as they went. 

It felt nice, having the weight and warmth beside him as the early autumn air started to set in. 

They found themselves in front of the dunk tank where Eskel was sitting up on the platform, that smirk of his still firmly in place. 

He had known! Geralt huffed and glared at his brother. He was leaning out of the tank slightly to high-five a slender woman with dark hair. She looked over and waved to Jaskier with a smile. 

“Hey, do you want the horse or the alien stuffie?” He asked as he marched up to the booth. He watched with a grin as Eskel’s own smile dropped. “You know what, I’ll win you both.” 

Jaskier only looked at him with confusion then glanced across. “Oh. Were we played?” He sounded smug as he handed Geralt his own tickets. 

Geralt landed not only the first shot, but the next three after, sending Eskel plunging down into the water below. When he handed Jaskier both of the rewards he was passed a caramel apple already missing a bite. 

Three years suddenly seemed to hinge on the moment as he took the apple and leaned forward, past the oversized head of the alien in Jaskier’s arm. He pressed a kiss to the corner of Jaskier’s mouth, slow enough that he could have pulled away. 

Jaskier didn’t pull away. Instead, he turned his face and let their mouths slot together more firmly, smiling all the while. 

“Took you long enough,” he pulled away just enough to murmur before pressing in again. 

“Movie night tomorrow?” Geralt asked when they finally broke apart. He felt like he was vibrating in his boots. 

“It’s a date.” 

It certainly was going to be, Geralt decided. He’d make sure it would be a good one too.

[legends-live-in-memories]

Just Some Guy

AYO im back with day 3! i got nothing else to say :)

Maribat Masterlist   AO3   @maribat-bdbwm

Day 1 2

Word count: 1.5k words

Summary: 

Marinette went to school hoping for a normal day.

Instead, she meets her father for the second time. Or perhaps, for the first time.

BD!Bruce Wayne Day 3- Identities

without further ado:

Marinette woke up in the morning with a bad feeling. Nothing was really wrong. She woke up before her alarm and she hadn’t tripped getting out of bed. She finished her homework the night before and hadn’t gotten into any fights all week. And yet, a weight sat in her stomach.

Her mother once said— when she was maybe three years old and landed on her feet when she fell out of a tree she wasn’t supposed to have been climbing— that as she grew up her affinity for the miraculous magic would cause these unfamiliar ‘sensations’ throughout her life. It was more precise than intuition but not nearly as sophisticated as precognition. Her teachers had said she was blessed by the ancestors as most guardians develop this skill only after years of training, not as a young toddler like herself. She knew to trust this feeling. Usually, she knew that this feeling meant something was going to hurt her; except, since living in Paris for a year, this feeling tended to mean that something was going to embarrass her at worst or mildly inconvenience her at best. She hoped it was the latter.

Nothing happened during her normal routine of getting ready and her papa had even made an extra nice breakfast for the family. The weather was perfect and everything seemed to be going right. So why did she have this feeling?

The walk to school was equally mundane and Marinette started to feel jittery. She hadn’t tripped on her way so that wasn’t what was going to go wrong either. Her class was a quiet sea of private conversations. Chloé wasn’t even doing anything beyond tapping on her phone. Though, she wasn’t usually as enthusiastic as she was now. Was that what was going to go wrong?

“Marinette!” her teacher had called. Madame Bustier was an eccentric woman, Marinette had learned. She was only their teacher for a few months but she was someone Marinette grew fond of rather quickly. “I’m glad you’re here early, can you do me a small favor?”

“Of course, Madame.” This was nothing out of place either, the feeling still weighed on her.

“I left some copies of some handouts in the staff room upstairs. Do you think you could fetch them for me?” Standing behind her desk, her posture straight and smile so bright, Marinette found no reason to say no. She agreed without hesitation.

The journey to and from the staff room was, again, uneventful and Marinette was just hoping that whatever Bad Thing that was supposed to happen to her would just occur. The fretting alone is enough to send her to an early grave. Checking on the time back in the class, it was only 8:20. She had the entire day left. Great.

The hours ticked by and it was then the lunch hour. Marinette’s nerves had calmed down in the meantime and she was fidgety for a different reason. Today was Friday and that meant her papa was in charge of her training. The thought alone was enough to lift her spirits. She couldn’t wait to see what he had in store today.

If only she could actually make it back to the bakery. Before anyone could actually leave the class, Chloé commanded the attention of everyone, including Madame Bustier, because she had a ‘special announcement.’

The bad feeling had immediately returned and Marinette felt a chill. This was it. This was what her senses had been preparing her for all day. She looked at Chloé and the curl of her lips, pale lip gloss shining as bright as ever, made a pit open in Marinette’s stomach. She had her undivided attention, hanging off of whatever words she was about to say next.

“A very important guest is in Paris and daddy has agreed that we all get to meet him. Bruce Wayne is coming here today! He’s staying at our hotel—of course— and he agreed to come to the school after lunch to speak to us about business and other boring stuff. All because of me. No need to thank me.” her little speech was decorated with self-congratulatory hair flips and pats on her own shoulder. None of it mattered to Marinette, however. Her brain was too busy rebooting. All her trepidation and egg-shell walking… for this? For this person? He was clearly important if not for Chloé saying as such then for the background chatter of her classmates but it all meant nothing to Marinette. Because…

Because…

Who the heck was Bruce Wayne?

Why would some old businessman want to speak to a bunch of twelve year olds? Well, he was staying at the mayor’s hotel, he probably didn’t have much of a say in the matter. Whatever the mayor’s precious daughter wants she gets. Too bad this man got dragged along for the whole ordeal. But that doesn’t explain why this was what set off her nerves. What could possibly happen in meeting this guy? Marinette could only wait until after the lunch hour to figure out.

Her excitement for her papa’s training was overshadowed by her dread. She could barely focus, distracted by her own hyper-aware senses. The trek back to school was slow, Marinette tried to prolong the inevitable for as long as possible, but she was facing her classroom door too quickly for her tastes. The chatter of her classmates beyond the door, Madame Bustier trying to control the noise, and a deep chuckle that cut through the cacophony, did nothing but make Marinette wish to be able to turn back and run home.

Could she call in sick?

Run away only to return on Monday?

No, a voice rang, her father’s voice, in her head. The only way out is through. Those were his words and Marinette wasn’t going to chicken out on meeting some stranger just because her gut feeling was warning her about something. Whatever it was, she’ll face head-on. She’s the daughter of freaking Batman after all.

She took a deep breath, mind made up, and opened the door with more bravado than she actually had.

Too bad she overestimated how much force she actually needed and accidentally slammed the door open. What was once a rowdy classroom was now a silent audience, peering as Marinette made a rather grand entrance. The tall figure standing next to Madame Bustier had the most unnerving gaze. She was transfixed. Mesmerized. She stared at the visitor, tall and broad, with swept back hair and a pair of baby blue eyes. She knew that face. She knew those eyes!

There were only two times she saw eyes that blue; in her own reflection and in the face of her father. Who was Batman. But… also this Bruce Wayne guy? What?

That’s not right. She would have known if her father was in the city and she most definitely would have known if her father was some guy named Bruce Wayne. Right?

At least her bad feeling was gone.

But why was he here? And why was he still staring at her?

“Going to become part of the decoration, Dupain-Cheng?” Chloé’s snark cut into the silence and called her attention away from her maskless father. That was when she noticed that she was still standing in the doorway. With everyone still staring at her.

She scurried to the back of the classroom to her seat in record speed, not meeting anyone’s eye, ignoring any snickering directed at her.

“Well, class now that everyone is here,” Marinette cheeks felt warm at her teacher’s comment, “Allow me to introduce you all to Mr. Bruce Wayne, owner and CEO of Wayne Enterprises.”

Oh, her father was someone rich then.

“Thank you, Madame. I will admit I was surprised that the mayor personally asked me to be here on such short notice but,” that was her father’s voice but it was the gruff tones she had heard when they met. This was airy, and approachable. “But seeing all of you here today, definitely made it worth it.”

It was so weird.

Marinette didn’t pay attention to anything he said during his visit, and after he left, with an indecipherable, lingering look in her direction, she felt like she could breathe again for the first time in forever. Watching the stone cold Batman prance around, engaging with children, was bizarre. She felt like she was watching another person, and she almost thought he was but she knew that face. She’s seen it before, the night they first met, and those eyes, so much like her own, so she knows that this man is her father. No matter how… cheery he acted. But it was over and Marinette’s day could finally go back to normal.

Putting the whole ordeal behind her, her anxieties quelled and the bad feeling having passed, Marinette was left with one question however.

If Batman is Bruce Wayne, then who the heck are his children?  

[blinder-secrets]

False Employment

tommy shelby x maid!reader, 5,900 words

warnings: power play, dominance, nsfw

ao3 link

a/n: this is essentially the second piece in a maid series i’ve accidentally started, read michael’s here <3

When you were eight, you’d told your mother that you were going to be a dancer. Then a dressmaker, a poet, a horse-groomer. As a teen, you’d decided that you’d be a wife, just a wife, who’d raise the kids while your husband was away making fortunes, no doubt. Your mother had been happy enough with that idea, but it had soured on you. After all, you thought, why spend your time looking after others and not yourself?

In the end, though, you’d found work as a maid. A house-servant in black and white, cursed to parole the hallways of an estate that’d never feel homely, or private. The irony of it was not lost on you. Employed to look after people that weren’t even yours to look after, half the reasoning but triple the pay. At least this way, the work you did was profitable, and the money you made was saved in your own name. The catch, however, was that you hated it. And you hated it because you were frustratingly terrible at it. No matter how many times Frances taught you to fold the sheets, you got it wrong. Somehow. No matter how carefully you swept, or cleaned, or shined the child’s shoes, you missed a spot. You always missed a fucking spot. It’s like you were cursed, destined to be the worst possible maid in the Midlands, and there was nothing you could do about it.

The strangest part, of course, was that you hadn’t been fired yet. You’d hardly even been chastised. The most unbecoming maid in the history of housekeeping, and you still had your job. You were still paid more than the industry standard. Despite all you knew about him, it seemed Mr. Shelby, unlike most employers, was endlessly forgiving of his staff; it was only when you started to question why, that you realised that wasn’t entirely the case.

On the Friday, you’d been called to bring tea to the front sitting-room. You’d say it’s one of your least favourite tasks but, honestly, they all sit equally on the list of things that you hate to do. The dishes always clatter on the tray, rattling wildly as you take the stairs from the kitchen. The china is scolding to touch each time you go to pour it. The spout is short, the saucers fragile and ill-fitting. Really, there’s a lot less grace in serving tea, than there is in drinking it, and that day was no different.

‘Your tea, Mr. Shelby,’ you announced, once you’d wobbled through the doorway. The milk had spilt onto the metal, but the cups and teapot had stayed strong, thank God. ‘Where would you like it?’

He wasn’t alone, the aunt and his cousin were waiting with him, but only your cold-faced boss had acknowledged the arrival. He was stood by the window, picking a cigarette from his case, and had paused to give instruction that no-one else would offer. His gaze flicked to you briefly, then over to the low coffee table in the centre. ‘There.’

You obliged with a nod, before crossing the room to set the tray and its precarious contents down. ‘Should I pour you some, sir?’ you asked the cousin, hoping he’d say no, hoping he’d let you return to some other, more menial job. One that at least let you work without an audience. Instead, he nodded, and leant forward to hold one of the tea-cups up. Why he couldn’t just leave it there, on the flat surface, where no spills could do any damage, you didn’t know. He probably thought he was being helpful; tragically, he failed to take into account that you were the clumsiest tea-maid in the house.

The handle stung, as expected, the moment you took hold of it, but you were interrupted before you could even begin to pour.

‘Shouldn’t milk go first?’ he asked, continuing once you looked at him like he was wild. ‘In china, to stop it from cracking?’

‘Oh.’ You stuttered, straightening from your bend with the burning teapot in your hand still. ‘Of course,’ you answered. Of course there was some rule you had forgotten, some high-class superstition about breaking the bone china they could replace so easily. You wanted to roll your eyes, but instead you smiled, and set the tea down again. ‘Sorry, sir.’

When his cup was filled with an inch of the obviously critically important milk, you tried again to pour his tea. The aunt and Mr. Shelby were talking around you, but you were so focused on the act that their words fell away into rubble, just birds chattering between the trees. You lifted the pot again and poured as steadily as your arm would allow.

From the sudden hiss of breath between his teeth, it hadn’t been steady at all. You’d poured scolding tea onto the rim, the saucer, and finally, unfortunately, onto the pinstripe-stretch of his knee.

‘Fuck,’ you burst, ‘sorry.’ The pot went back to the tray quickly, your hands into the pocket of your apron. You hadn’t realised you’d sworn until it was too late to correct it. Another X against your name, surely. ‘Forgive me,’ you told him, pulling a cloth free to offer it, ‘it’s clean.’ At least, for your sake, you’d remembered that dabbing the stain yourself would be inexcusable.

He took it, sighing, and his mother rolled her eyes so plainly that you couldn’t have ignored it if you tried. ‘It’s alright,’ he said, though his scowl didn’t agree. ‘That’s enough anyway.’

You nodded, leaving him to pat awkwardly at the stain, balancing the cup and saucer in his free hand. What Mr. Shelby thought of the ordeal, you didn’t know. He was behind you, quiet, and impossible to see without turning entirely. The embarrassed heat that lingered in your ears was enough to keep you from trying. The last thing you needed, was another unimpressed look sent your way; you got enough of them from Frances.

When you shifted to face the aunt, she spoke before you could, insisting, ‘I can pour my own.’

You smiled before she’d even finished. ‘Course, ma’am,’ you offered with a shallow curtsey. Anything to get out sooner was welcome, even if it was a dig at your serving expertise.

Straightening fully, you smoothed the back of your dress and spun, facing the windows and the silhouette before them. ‘Will that be all, sir?’ you asked as you met his gaze —which had already been there, waiting. Taking account. He’d been watching you fuck up, yet again, probably wondering how you got the job in the first place. You chewed your lip as he deliberated.  

‘Yes,’ he said after a moment, speaking through the cloud of his cigarette, ‘that’ll be all.’

Why you got off so lightly, made no fucking sense, but you weren’t about to stand there and argue with him. Instead, you dipped your knees again and left. It had felt like he’d watched you until you’d gone out of sight, through the doorway, but that was more likely to be a symptom of your over-thinking. Just jumping to paranoid conclusions like you always did, assuming his eyes had clung to your back until the door had shut them away.

By the next week, you were starting to think you weren’t paranoid at all.

Frances had caught you in the hallway between your room and her own, just as you were heading down for something to eat. ‘Mr. Shelby will be home soon,’ she said, stopping in front of you with a sure knot between her brows.

You watched her undo the tie of her pinafore. ‘Okay?’

‘He’ll need his coat taking, and offer him a drink, not supper.’

You balked. Why was she telling you this? ‘Isn’t that your job?’ you asked, feeling dread settle into your stomach. She was top of the hierarchy, the one he trusted most, you were a scullery maid at best. It’d make more sense for his boy to greet him, over you.

She sighed like you were at fault, and folded the pinafore over her arm. ‘He’s asked for you.’

‘He has?’

‘And don’t speak more than you should,’ she continued, ignoring your obvious alarm. ‘Just, just do as I would.’

But you didn’t know what she did. You never paid attention to what she did. ‘Do you think he wants to speak to me?’ you asked, following as she started towards her room. ‘Am I in trouble?’ Was it finally the chopping block for you?

She turned sharply, causing you to stumble to a halt. ‘I think,’ she stressed, ‘that he wants his coat taking.’ Then her door opened and she shut herself inside, leaving you to stand aimlessly in the hallway.

With little else to do, you made your way downstairs to wait within hearing distance of the front door. It didn’t take Mr. Shelby long to require your services, but it did take just long enough for you to think yourself into a panic. No, not a panic, it was more of a steady confidence. A certainty that he had asked for you, specifically, so that he could tell you to work harder. Better. So that he could get you alone, and threaten a cut to your wages if you didn’t stop pouring tea onto his guest’s laps. It was the only plausible reasoning you could settle on.

When he stepped into the entry-way, your heart was beating hard enough to trick your mind into labelling it as excitement. A twisted bout of adrenaline at the thought of being fired. You’d have laughed if you weren’t trying so hard to be professional, instead, you kept your face serious. ‘Good evening, Mr. Shelby,’ you started, moving from your post to meet him. ‘Can I take your coat?’

You thought you saw his lip twitch upwards, but it was redirected into a short nod. ‘Frances changed the rota,’ he said, though it was obvious. He turned, showing you his back, and you pulled the collar from his shoulders before you could overthink the motion.

‘She did, sir,’ you agreed. Don’t talk too much. Don’t talk too much. ‘Have you had your hair cut?’ you asked, unable to stop once you’d noticed the close shave at the back of his head.

He faced you again, letting the coat peel from his arms until he was separate, and you were left to wrangle the heavy fabric alone. To no surprise, he didn’t answer your question. He didn’t even remove his cap. Instead, he stared, squinting slightly, then held the briefcase out for you to take.

You were running out of hands to be useful with. The folded coat was thick enough to render one arm useless, and now his case occupied the other. ‘Would you like something to eat, sir?’

‘No,’ he answered, too quick to have really considered it. Then he looked down, eyes on the leather gloves he was removing, and asked, ‘What’s your name?’

‘[Y/n], sir.’

He repeated it once. Rolled it over his tongue and out again like he was testing for its flavour. Analysing its worth, though he had surely heard it a hundred times before.

Your adrenaline had finally been replaced by fragile nerves. The silence felt like an open invite for critique, and you’d rather have it filled with the forbidden small talk than let it begin. ‘Would you like me to fetch Char—‘

‘Have you lit the fire in my office?’ he asked blankly, interrupting you as he lifted his eyes to yours. The blue alone was enough to quiet you. His stare was more intimidating than luxurious; if he had been watching you as you thought he had, you weren’t sure that was a good thing anymore.

‘No,’ you stammered. ‘Should I have?’ It was dark already, but you hadn’t noticed the cold yourself. ‘Should I do it now, Mr. Shelby?’ you corrected, playing catch up on your responsibilities. ‘I’ll put these down.’

He shook his head and put the gloves, together, on top of his coat. Piled it all on you like you were a walking hat-stand. ‘Make sure you have next time,’ he said. ‘It’s winter.’

‘Yes, sir. Sorry.’

It didn’t look like the apology meant anything to him, probably because you had rushed it out nervously, rather than sincerely. You didn’t often know what you were apologising for after all, just that you should be, and that you were normally at fault in the first place. So you said sorry quickly, before he could leave. And then, once he had done, turning from you after a final clinging-look, you said sorry again into the absent space he had left behind. Sorry, Mr. Shelby, don’t fire me, Mr. Shelby. I know I’m a terrible fucking servant, Mr. Shelby. He didn’t look back, nor did he ask for you again that evening. From your perspective, that was a win. It meant he hadn’t planned to stage an intervention, or to tell you off like a scorned school master. He had simply wanted you to do your job, well, Frances’ job, and somehow, you hadn’t massively disappointed. A few mis-placed questions hadn’t caused your downfall, and you found yourself hanging his coat with an easy smile. Perhaps you were valuable to him then, or at least acceptable. Perhaps you were employed for a reason.

When he next went away, you made sure to light the fire before he returned. Clever, you thought, well remembered indeed. What you failed to do, however, was time it well enough that it would be lit, burning strong and heating the room, before you had to meet him at the door. You were still knelt by the hearth when he arrived.

He cleared his throat once, from the doorway, and the noise was loud enough to startle you over the snaps of the fire. You sprang from the floor in one panicked burst of energy, turning in almost the same motion, moving faster than you felt you ever had.

‘Oh, Mr. Shelby,’ you panted. ‘Sorry, sorry, I was just finishing the fire.’

He was fully dressed still. Obviously, because you hadn’t been there to pull the outer layers from him as you should have. It wasn’t even a difficult task and you’d seemingly failed on your second try.

‘Have you been there long?’ you asked, hoping that if you kept him talking, and kept his eyes on yours, he would fail to notice the ash on your knees. The grey powdering of your tights and the hem of your dress, dirtied from kneeling too close to the bricks. It could be brushed away easily, but you hardly wanted more attention drawn to it. ‘I didn’t hear you come in.’

He shrugged, not bothering with a real answer. The nonchalance made you nervous. He could’ve been standing there for seconds, or he could’ve been there for minutes, watching you bent in half, folded in front of the fire as you worked. Whether someone could even be judged on their fire-making skills, you didn’t know. But he seemed the type to be able to judge anyone for anything.

‘Sorry, I should take your coat,’ you started, crossing the room with your hands out.

‘It’s alright.’ He walked past you before you could even reach him, moulding into the study like he was a part of it. ‘I have to go out again, anyway.’

You nodded. He didn’t offer any other instruction, so you just stood there, dirty like a chimney-sweep, gormless like a fucking goose in the river. ‘Should I go, sir?’ you asked.

His case went on top of the desk, his body dropped into the seat behind it. He didn’t look at you, or answer you, he just pulled a cigarette from his inside pocket and lit it. You watched him inhale and exhale once before growing tired.

‘There are things I should be doing, sir,’ you said, hoping to sound more apologetic than rude. In truth, you were just bored. Uncomfortable. You couldn’t stop thinking about the ash on your knees.

It definitely wasn’t paranoia that time. His eyes finally found you, in the middle of the room, and drank you in like you were one of his racehorses. The flashy ones that he bought for the sake of money and money alone. You fidgeted under the weight of them, knowing the crystal irises were skimming every part of you that should’ve been ignored. Especially for a maid, for one of his house-servants. Your body should’ve been nothing beneath the rigidity of your uniform, and yet he scooped it out from between the seams, looked at the curves that you were sure had been hidden.

‘Do you live at the house,’ he started, voice low and catching, ‘or at home?’

‘The house, sir.’ You threaded your fingers together, kept them clutched over your pinafore. ‘I share the room next to Frances.’

The smoke pooled from his lips again, trailing after him as he leant back into his seat. He was looking at you down his nose, through his lashes, holding the silence just long enough for it become taut. Sharp enough to make your cheeks warm.

‘And when she hears the bell at night, do you hear it too?’

You frowned, but nodded. The service bells were mounted on the wall between the doors.

‘Well,’ he said, ‘next time it goes, I want you to see to it.’

His gaze was unmoving. Yours had been charmed into the same fate, unable to pull away from him. ‘Sir?’ you said, understanding his meaning, but not believing it in the slightest. There was no innocent reason for him to switch orders like that. The older woman had always covered the night work, as infrequent as it was.

He cocked his head, and narrowed his eyes in one quick pulse of intent. ‘Let Frances have her rest, eh?’

It was either a promotion, or a proposition. You had neither the gall or the desire to ask which. ‘Of course, Mr. Shelby.’

After that, your encounters with him had remained short and indifferent. You took his coat, brought him tea, whiskey, followed orders when he gave them. You’d watched him, watching you, every time, and thought nothing more of it. Or at least tried not to. You never saw him interact with other staff, so you couldn’t dispel the idea that he treated you any different from them; he could’ve held all of his employees under the same searing gaze and you wouldn’t have known. Frances had commented on his favouring of you, claiming ‘he’d ask for you over anyone else’, but she had seemed relieved all the same. She liked her work, but she liked free time just as much. His request to switch you to the night-calls, however, had been a dormant one, an almost pointless one, because he’d never rang. Never asked anything of you once he’d taken supper.

At least, he hadn’t before now, right now. This very moment. You’d been dragged from your sleep by the dull clanging of the service bell, and now you’re hot-footing down the stairs with your pinafore barely fastened. What the allowed time for dressing is, you have no idea. You’re trying to rush, but there’s no way of knowing how long it has been, or how presentable you are. The only comfort is that he’s yet to ring the bell again, so you obviously haven’t been long enough to make him impatient.

The door to his study is shut, but there’s nowhere else he’d be, so you knock once you’re stood in front of it. You hear him cough from the other side, before saying, ‘Come in.’

Right then. Here you go. You take a few steps into the room, just enough to be present, but not intrusive, and force a quiet breath before speaking. ‘What can I do for you, Mr. Shelby?’ you ask, starting as he shows no sign of doing it on your behalf. He hasn’t even looked up to acknowledge you.

He’s leaning on the end of his desk, staring into the embers of the once lit fire, with a half-filled tumbler in his hand. His jacket’s off, shirt sleeves rolled and shoved to sit above the elbow. If it weren’t for the waistcoat, still fastened and adorned with the chain of his pocket-watch, he’d look almost scruffy. Off-guard. ‘So,’ he says, ‘you heard the bell, then.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘And you don’t mind the disturbance?’

‘No.’ Though, if he’d brought you down just to test the mechanism, you would hardly be happy about it. ‘Is that all, sir?’

He snorts, following it with a sip of whiskey. The motion causes the gold band around his bicep to catch in the lamplight, glinting at you. A lighthouse through the dark. ‘You don’t get bored of saying sir?’ he asks, finally flicking his eyes in your direction. ‘You say it more than the others.’

Your brows sink together, frowning before you can help it. You weren’t aware there was any other thing to call him, or that sir had a quota, one that you were seemingly well over. ‘Am I wrong to address you as that, Mr. Shelby?’

Quietly, he stands from his lean and tips his head back to finish the final portion of his drink. You watch his neck against the light, follow the whiskey as it travels down his throat. Once it’s empty, he turns to face you with his arm limp by his side, glass dangling in his palm. ‘No,’ he says, shaking his head half-way, ‘call me what you like.’

You catch a whim in the dim-setting, a spark of courage from the fireplace. It’s like the quiet of the house, the certainty of your solitude together, is daring you to test the bounds of your employee-boss relationship. His lingering pause gives the same effect, his blank stare waits to be challenged.

‘Not Tommy, though, sir?’ you ask, wanting to smirk with it, but missing the moment. Or rather, losing the courage as soon as the name’s left your lips.

His chin lifts a fraction. ‘No, not that.’

Tommy is too personal, too close to him. The faint hope you had, that he’d allow you to say it, is squashed into the rug beneath his feet. Without asking, he holds the glass up, arm straight and pointed toward you. You understand his meaning well enough and cross the room to take it from him.

‘Do you often wake a maid, just to pour your whiskey?’ you ask from beside the drinks cabinet. The decanter is there, ready, un-topped and waiting. You fill his glass a quarter, and then a quarter more after a pause of consideration. It doesn’t seem like an evening for single measures.

He doesn’t answer until you’re back in front of him. ‘No,’ he admits shamelessly, leaving you yet another silence to fill.

‘Just me then, sir?’

He nods. ‘Yep, just you.’

He takes the glass and lifts it for a drink. By the time he’s swallowed, and set it down again, you’re two steps back, waiting in the middle of the rug. Anxious for the next order. You’d hoped that the late hour would’ve made him more accessible, more willing to drop the formalities and pretence of your relationship. Instead, it’s made you all the more aware of them. All the more sensitive to the ladder of power between the two of you, and the way he manoeuvres it. He seems so easy, so comfortable, unapologetic of his status and the benefits that it gives him. He can walk the line without risk of misstepping, because he’s the one who sets it.

‘Do you like your job, [y/n]?’ he asks, sounding as if he knows the answer already.

You chew the reply over in your head. As lucky as you’ve been so far, the outright truth might finally throw you into the cold. ‘I like the company,’ you answer, ‘the people.’

He pushes a laugh through his nose, amused but barely smiling still. ‘Didn’t ask you that.’

No, but you won’t lie to him. ‘I’m terrible at my job, sir,’ you say. He surely knows that as well as you do, maybe that’s the reason for him calling on you. It’s time for the meeting you’ve been dreading. The conversation was here at last. ‘In all honesty,’ you tell him, ‘I don’t know why you’ve kept me on.’

Sighing, he half-sits on the desk again, arms folding across his chest. ‘You think you’re that bad?’

‘Awful, sir.’ The added responsibilities have done nothing to improve your prowess. His extra requests have just given you more things to misplace, more damages to cause. ‘Why have you never said anything?’ you ask, adding a ‘sir’ at the raise of his brow. ‘Most people would’ve docked my wages by now.’

He blinks once. ‘Do you want me to punish you?’

The heat it sends up your neck is scorching, embarrassing. For a moment, you forget that he could mean it plainly, that he could speak as an employer and an employer alone. If he had any other expression, you’d be able to validate that, but he’s stoney as ever, waiting for a response like he’d simply asked for the time. ‘No, sir,’ you manage. ‘I just wondered why.’

He takes a sip before answering, hissing the whiskey between the set of his teeth. ‘You know why,’ he says, watching his hands for once, giving you respite from his stare. ‘You look at me just the same.’

‘I do?’

You don’t know why you’re asking, because you’re already in agreement. The self-indulgent glances you’ve taken of him were for the exact same reason you had hoped he looked at you. It wasn’t judgement, but hunger. You had thought it silly to imagine he felt that way too. Maybe men were men after all, easy to read regardless of status, free to want as they liked, but not without the worry of consequence.

‘I don’t want to misunderstand you, Mr. Shelby,’ you say carefully, speaking slow enough to set your thoughts straight. ‘Why do you employ me still?’

You’d expected bravado in reply, but his eyes are on the glass and his voice is taut. ‘I can’t,’ he states. He knows the reasons as well as you do. The chains that bind him, the ones that keep both of your roles in place. There are rules in this house, things that can’t be changed for desire’s sake and he’s counting on you to respect them; the sheer fact that you’re here, alone with him in the middle of the night, proves that his willpower is faltering. He expects you to make up for what he lacks.

The irony, of course, is that you’ve never been any good at meeting expectations. You feel your heartbeat in your skull, right behind your ears, as you take a step forward. ‘Can’t say,’ you challenge, ‘or can’t act on it?’

Another step and you’re an arm’s length away from him.

He puts the glass down and faces you steadily, like he’s flicked the switch back into place, like he’s got cold, iced water in his veins again. ‘You’ll tempt me in my own house, eh?’ he chides, pushing it through a smirk. ‘So quick to be a whore.’

‘I’m not a whore,’ you answer, ‘I’m a maid.’ You chance it and put a hand to his waistcoat, pinching the edge of it between your fingers. He doesn’t stop you. You’re invincible then, you could do anything in the world, and he still wouldn’t think it reason enough to fire you. ‘You don’t seem like a man to ignore his wants, Mr. Shelby.’ Indulge while you can, taste what you’ve been thinking about for so long. ‘If there’s anything I can do to help,’ you purr, ‘then it’s surely my job to do it.’

He doesn’t say anything, but maybe he’s ran out of words. Maybe they’d just take him further from what it is that he wants. Now that you both know it, there’s no reason to discuss. You may be terrible at housework, but men have never been a challenge, you could never fail at something you enjoyed so thoroughly.

Standing, he takes you by the wrist and pulls your fingers free of the waistcoat. He holds your hand in front of your face like you’re a caught criminal. ‘Go back to bed,’ he says, bluntly enough that you almost turn and run. But you were so close to the impossible, so close to tipping over the line, that adrenaline catches you instead.

‘Why?’ Your brows pinch, your manners forget themselves in the disappointment. ‘You suddenly have morals?’ you ask, teetering on laughter. ‘Shame?’ He could kill a man, but fucking his maid is where his ethics hardened. Where they steeled to a stop.  

His jaw sets. For someone so familiar with staff, and giving orders, he’s struggling to put you in your place. You know it’s coming though, you can see the threat behind his eyes.

‘Are you scared, Tommy?’ you taunt. ‘Worried we’ll be found out?’

It was a risk, but it paid off, and he switches the play so easily into his favour, that the wind is knocked out of you before you can piece together what’s happened. He’d pulled you forward, then past him, so that your thighs are against the edge of the desk and his chest is pressed along the length of your back. His arms are either side of you, palms flat on the wooden top. ‘Is that how you want it?’ he bites, putting the question to your neck. Down the collar of your uniform. ‘Ay? Against the boss’s desk?’

‘If that’s what suits you.’

He puts a knee between yours, pushing your legs just far enough apart to feel like he’s predator and you’re prey. Like your body is his to bend, to set in place and enjoy. ‘What?’ he asks, breath hot and liquored by your ear. ‘I didn’t hear you.’

You clear your throat, willing your voice to strengthen. This was what you’d initiated, after all. This is the side you’d asked to see. ‘If that’s what suits, sir,’ you say again, stressing the ‘sir’ like it’s the key to it all, the fuel under the fire. By the way his breath shudders against you, you’re starting to think it is.

He exhales again. ‘We shouldn’t.’ He’s quiet with it, like the thought had escaped without him realising.

‘I want to,’ you insist. You lean forwards slightly, curving your lower back upwards and into him. ‘You want to, sir.’ It was obvious enough. The extra work, the lingering stares, the hardness growing against the back of your thigh —it all lead to one thing, to wanting, lusting. To favouring desire over anything else.

His hands lift from the desk-top to your waist. Taking the bait, then, making it his.

You turn between them, not caring that the motion has skewed your uniform, twisting the skirt beneath his hands until it’s sat, bunched, at your hips. It would have to be moved eventually, taken off entirely if he had the time. ‘If you take any longer,’ you say, ‘the house’ll wake up, Mr. Shelby.’

‘Yeah?’ He lifts you as he answers, putting you onto the desk, and himself between the spread of your legs. ‘And you’ll have duties to attend,’ he says, looking over you, rather than at you. His gaze is foggy from the need. You hum in agreement, playing the game, following his lead as you’re paid to. When his nose finds the space beneath your earlobe, his lips ghosting the edge of your jaw, you melt. You pour into him like scorching gold. ‘I’ll have to have you now,’ he decides, ‘while you’re off the clock.’ The words rumble out of him, low and careless, shouldered by a kiss.

You close your eyes, holding his biceps to keep you upright. ‘If I’m off duty, should I call you sir, or Tommy?’ you ask, barely managing a hoarse whisper.

His mouth opens against your neck, hot and possessive. His lips drag down to the base of your throat before he replies. ‘Are you a maid,’ he asks, panting into the skin, ‘or a whore?’

A whore, you think. He’d never kiss his wife this way, would never have relations like this with any other member of staff. You purl against him as his hand goes between your thighs. ‘Whatever, sir,’ you breathe, ‘I’m whatever you want.’ Right now, you’re a torched flame, you’re a white hot coal, split apart by the heat. His fingers move like he’s known you before. ‘There,’ you tell him, sighing as he finds that tight bundle of nerves through the cotton. ‘There, sir.’

When he kisses you on the mouth, you’re almost surprised enough to reject it. You had wrongly assumed he would avoid kissing you like a lover, but his tongue swept between your lips, pushing in to find yours, and then the thought had gone entirely. You kiss back like you’ve been starved of it, your arms around his neck to ensure that he’ll stay.

‘I imagined it like this,’ he pants, pulling back to say it into your cheek. ‘From the start.’

Really, you want to ask, right from the beginning? But instead, you moan and curl into him, spine mirroring the path his thumb had taken across your clit. ‘I didn’t,’ you breathe, humming as he repeats the motion. ‘I imagined more fucking.’

His hand pulls away fast enough that you regret saying it, but he speaks so urgently that you don’t have time to mourn the loss. ‘Take them off,’ he says, already starting on the fastening of his trousers. ‘Now.’

You do as you’re told, unclipping the garters from your tights, so that you can push your underwear down and over your knees. He’s back against you before you can shake them from your ankles.

‘It’s just a fuck,’ he says, with one hand on himself, and the other on the bare bone of your hip. ‘Alright?’

You nod, meeting his gaze with the same rushed sincerity. ‘I know.’ You hadn’t doubted that for a second. You’re after the same thing he is: relief. A purge of the tension that he had been building between you, a break from the questioning of ‘what if?’.

‘Just a fuck,’ you repeat, desperate now the heartbeat pulses from your head to your toes. Now it thumps from you, to him. You’re sure he can feel it as he presses into you.

He groans, savouring the sensation, and lets his hands stray to grip your thighs. ‘That’s what you wanted?’ he pants, rocking his hips forward again. ‘That answer your question?’

You lie back, over the newspapers and the letters. Let him fuck you like you’re just another object on the desk. ‘Yes,’ you sigh. ‘Yes.’

‘Yes, what?’

‘Yes, Mr. Shelby.’ It not only answered your question, but clarified another that you had yet to consider. You knew now, why he employed you still, but you’d discovered why you worked for him, too. Why you kept the job you hated, why you hadn’t quit after failing so many times. ‘It’s this,’ you tell him, ‘it’s for this.’

[fizzychocolatemilk]

You've Got a Friend in Me (You've Got Troubles. I've Got 'em too.) (A Bakudeku Tropetember Fic)

Another Tropetember thingy (this one is a little late though...oops). I classify this one as a fic because it surpassed 1K. This one is for day eight:  5+1 / 3+1 (Five Times + One Time). AO3 link is here. It’s slightly angsty...so beware of feels.

tw: use of the f slur, homophobia, unsupportive parents, bullying

(1.)

“You’ll always be nothing but some dumbass, lightning-bolt faggot! You should just pack up and quit the hero course now. You’re too stupid to ever make it further than some lowly sidekick position,” the boy finished his abuse before dissolving into obnoxious laughter. 

 Said boy was one of Denki’s middle school classmates. Denki had accidentally run into him because he was texting Eijirou. The boy had looked over his shoulder and seen Eiji’s name (along with a heart) and started making fun of him for being “a faggot”. Denki knew he shouldn’t take what some asshole said to heart, but the things that he said reminded Denki of other times when he had been put down similarly. Lots of people seemed to think he was an incompetent dumbass who could never do anything right unless he had help, and, while sure, he was a little slow in academics...he definitely had other skill sets that made him a kick-ass hero! That didn’t mean that it was easy to convince himself of that.

 “Denki-kun! Hi!” a voice broke Denki out of his spiral.

 Denki turned toward the voice and, low and behold, it was Izu-kun. Denki gave Izuku a weak smile and a wave as he stood tensely next to the bully.

 “Denki! Who’s this? A friend?” Izuku asked as he walked up to the two. His voice sounded dangerous, and Denki could hear the “or foe?” that came after his words. At 17, Class 3-A knew that Izuku was dangerously protective of his friends, and they all did their best not to provoke his fury in any way. Because a feral Izuku was terrifying. 

 The bully didn’t know this though, and he simply laughed before “greeting” Izuku, “Ah, guess we’ve got another faggot. Or did you not know that Lightning Dolt here was a twink?”

 Izuku’s aura darkened several degrees at the boy's statement but still he shot the boy a bright (but fake) smile, “I’ll give you three seconds to run before I fucking destroy you.”

 The boy’s face dropped and he blinked, “Uhhh...what?”

 Izuku continued to smile, “One.”

 The boy’s eyes widened in panic, “Wait, man!”

 “Two.”

 The boy started running, “We can talk about this!”

 “Three,” Izuku immediately gave chase—or he would have if Denki hadn’t given him a small shock and held him back. Izuku struggled for a second before sighing and turning to Denki, “Denki-kun, you are more than just a brainless idiot and more than just a...a...you know. You’re amazing and talented in your own right and I’m proud to call you my friend.”

 Denki blinked in surprise before blushing lightly, “Thanks, Izu. I really appreciate it.” He smiled genuinely at Izuku.

 (2.)

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Momo,” the dark-haired woman stared harshly down at her daughter, “You may feel like this now, but one day you’ll find a nice, upstanding gentleman that captures your heart. Not some...punk-rock freak-girl.”

 Momo stared down at her feet and sighed softly before replying, “Yes, mother.”

 However, as she turned to make her way into the dorms, and her mother turned to meet with the chauffeur, she heard a very familiar voice. “Excuse me, ma’am! Yaoyorozu-san! May I have a word with you?” Momo turned to see Izuku-kun coming down the dorm steps and speed walking down the lawn to meet with the two women. He had a slightly dangerous aura (someone outside of Class A wouldn’t even notice), but Momo stood rigid as her friend stood up to her mother, “Yaoyorozu-san. I think you should consider taking your daughter more seriously. 

 “You might not know me well personally, but Yaomomo-chan and I know each other very well and I would consider us good friends. She’s smart, resourceful, and talented, and I think we can both agree that she will make a fantastic hero. But Yaomomo-chan is also responsible and mature, definitely mature enough to make her own decisions about her relationship choices. 

 “My own mother is very protective of me too, but I think that part of being a parent means accepting and supporting children through their choices and the consequences of those choices (good or bad), even if they aren’t choices that you, yourself, would make. I hope that you can come to respect Yaomomo-chan’s decisions about her own future, and find comfort in the fact that I, and everyone else in Class A, will always offer her our full support. Thank you for your time.” Izuku bowed politely before turning to Momo. “Kacchan made dinner. You should come eat it before it gets cold,” he smiled before heading back inside.

 Momo’s mother looked surprised for a second before saying a quick goodbye and hurrying away. Momo smiled after her before whispering under her breath, “You are a marvelous friend, Izuku-kun.”

 (3.)

Hanta was in a rush to get to class. Usually he was pretty punctual, but today he missed his alarm so he wasn’t feeling the best. Anxious and rushed, he accidentally ran into the worst person reasonably possible.

 “Ahah, if it isn’t the plain-faced tape dispenser from Class A!” Monoma laughed, “Late to class, I see! Tsk, tsk, yet another reason Class B is superior! At the very least we’re punctual!”

 Hanta deadpanned at the slate-eyed boy, “You know you’re late too, right?”

 Monoma’s jaw dropped for a second before he regained his composure. He huffed and took another angle, “Well, at least I have a personality! You’re so boring that it’s a wonder anyone pays attention to you at all. You’re almost more invisible than the invisible girl in your class! Not to mention that you’ll probably never get a girlfriend, hah!”

 Hanta rolled his eyes, despite the pang in his heart, before maneuvering himself to speed-walk past Monoma. “I’m literally dating Shou. It’s been the hot gossip for the past few days, and you’re definitely shallow enough to keep up with the gossip mill.”

 Monoma guffawed, “How did a plain-faced peasant like you end up with someone as high class as Todoroki? It’s a wonder, isn’t it? But, of course, I’m sure you’ve been hearing that for the past few days, haven’t you?”

 Hanta knew that he shouldn’t take anything that Monoma says seriously, but he’d been hearing how “unworthy” he was of Shouto for the past few days (since their relationship became public knowledge). The scathing words got to him and it made him doubt himself a little. He sped off towards his classroom, ignoring Monoma’s jeers in the background.

 That day, during a joint training session, Izuku requested to be paired with Monoma...and maybe Izuku went a little harder than he usually did. Maybe Monoma ended up in the infirmary before class ended, but it was training so Izuku couldn’t really be blamed for accidentally injuring his classmate, could he?

 Hanta smiled as he now had an explanation for the flash of green he swore he saw out of the corner of his eye as he was rushing to class after the encounter.

 (+1.) 

Katsuki slapped Deku on the back after training. “What the fuck was that, nerd?! You fucking beat the hell outta the Copycat Freak! Why can’t you ever go that hard when we train?”

 Deku’s face flushed as he turned a blinding smile at Katsuki. Cute. Katsuki shook himself from his thoughts as Deku started talking to him. “I guess I just got really into the exercise, Kacchan!”

 Katsuki could tell that Izuku’s words weren’t the whole truth but he decided to gloss over it for now in favor of focusing on a topic that had been bugging him. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with Mochi Head lately. Skimping on our training. Any specific reason, Deku?”

 Katsuki watched as Deku’s face flushed again, but this time it made a pit grow in his stomach. The pit grew as Deku stumbled over his words for a few minutes before answering, “We’ve just been helping each other study, Kacchan.” 

 “You’re fucking lying, stupid Deku,” Katsuki scoffed as his heart started cracking, tiny pieces falling into the void. “But it’s fucking fine. If you’d rather waste time with your girlfriend like a dumbass then I’ll take the number one spot all the more easily,” he said, but the words felt ashy in his mouth, empty and non-fulfilling.

 He started walking away when there was a sharp tug on his wrist. “Kacchan!” It was Deku. It was always Deku. Katsuki stopped trying to pull away, but he didn’t turn around yet. “I love you! No one else! Ochako-chan has just been helping me work through my feelings for you! She has feelings for someone else!” Katsuki turned sharply to see Deku staring intensely at him. “You are my symbol of victory. My hero. My Kacchan. It’s only ever been you, so please. Please allow me to stand by your side!”

 Katsuki sniffled before completely breaking down in tears from the emotional taxation of the last few minutes. Being the empathetic crier he is, Deku broke down with him and they held each other and sobbed. After a couple more minutes, Katsuki had pulled himself together enough to respond, “Y-yeah, dumb Deku. Keep your eyes on me.”

 Katsuki stood and extended a hand to Izuku to help him up. Izuku stared at him fondly for a split second before taking his offer. They walked back to the dorms side-by-side and hand-in-hand.