#it keeps taking me back to that night when i first made cope art and then swore never to again because i was freaked out by it

[edgybutnotveryedgy]

...

[withonly-sweetheart]

di leon kennedy doing pushups ;) inspired by this (suggestive) art by @bunnivievve because i think artists have too much power. lowkey im typing this out so fast rn im tweaking i have exams tomorrow NOOOOOOOO-

<><><><>

your husband joined the police force. great. awesome. what a wonderful sight, at least it is for all the people watching on the outside. the picture perfect couple; a loving wife and a valiant husband to match.

what they never saw were the late nights up, studying the same textbook about a trillion times over, pretty much memorizing the goddamn contents of it before stumbling into your bed.

his body might be warm but that warmth always abandons you in what seems like a second, the snap of his fingers, because it's become a recurring instance that he's left early to train.

always making good impressions, that man. and you're proud of him, you have to be and you're not ashamed to show it. you've seen his growth, his courage that he displays, the hurt he has to suffer through all to keep the city safe. his city, where you are. his heart.

which is why it comes as a surprised when your husband, a man you've been married to for seven years, comes up to you with a bashful expression, eyes darting left and right, grazing all the corners of the world.

"do you... uhm... think... i'm strong?" you blink, dazed.

"why? what's wrong?"

"well, some of my higher ups had some concerns about... strength. they wanted me to 'strengthen my core'." he chuckles. "whatever that means."

"and you came to me for that," you drone.

"i've seen you do all those exercises around the house!" he protests. "can't you just teach me a few?"

"first of all, those are to help with cramps, and second, no." it seems like he's given up, but you know him well enough to know that that will never be the case.

"aw, c'mon, please?" he murmurs, taking your hand into his, caressing the bottom of your knuckles, rubbing soothing circles into your fingers. "just once?"

so you find yourself relenting to the man who always knows what to say to get you to crack. maybe next time you should be more demanding, hm?

needless to say, it's all made up for when you stretch out into the first pose, a simple sitting position with your legs extended fully, fingertips reaching the tips of your toes.

leon nods, and he gets the sitting part right. but when he tries to copy your movements, he hisses and leans back, groaning with the effort.

"what's wrong, officer kennedy?" you tease. "scared you'll break a hip bone?"

"quiet," he grumbles. "i'm just a little sore from yesterday."

"of course, of course, a very busy day running errands, such as picking up doughnuts, might i add?"

he scowls at you and tries again, and again, but every time he can't seem to cope with the fact your flexibility, even at your maturing age, is better than his, even with all his rigorous training.

"looks like you couldn't do it," you say smugly, smirking directly at him, angling your body to face him. "told you so."

"i think it's my turn now," he says, creeping towards you. and this time he seems to have the prowess of a panther, easily slotting himself into place above you.

"your turn for what?" you ask, somewhat suggestively. he grins.

"how 'bout i show you what i've learned?"

fuck, you'll never doubt him again, will you? his sweet, submissive girl, arching beneath him, one hand pressed on the floor near your head, keeping him supported. the other is clasped behind his back, in an ethereal tilt that has his chest hair hitting all the right angles of the dying sun.

your knee is thrown over his shoulder, and the position should be awkward, you think, yet it feels as natural as anything. he pistons his hips further into you, and he's been mumbling something in your ear since he started.

now that you can hear him better through his rough, sloppy pants, you hear a steady rhythm. "twenty-five... twenty-six..."

he's counting, you realize after your mind-shattering orgasm, whimpering underneath him as he finishes, muscles flexing in a manner you'd never thought to admire until you realize why.

he's counting the pushups, god, that's all he's been doing this whole time. and you'd be damned if you didn't send a silent prayer of thanks back to the academy, where they trained him to do this.

but you're sure this isn't how they expected him to apply it in real life. hey, what can you say? seems like you're finally enjoying your husband's career and all the perks it comes with.

"my pretty wife, going around doing all those stretches, driving me fucking crazy bending over like that," he rambles, lowering himself to shower your face in messy kisses before tilting his head back to the side with a hiss, lifting himself back up.

back up and back down, a slower pace with his upper body while his lower half rails into you, and all you can do is lie there, helpless to what he gives you, craving more yet somehow satiated at the same time.

"yeah, mmm, fuck, just like that-" he breaks off his counting to whisper sweet nothings in your ear for the second time that evening, pushing his spend back in while you grasp for purchase on his biceps, feeling the hardened muscle lurch back towards you as you dig your nails deep into his skin.

"needed that, didn't you?" you whisper breathlessly after he collapses onto the hard wooden floor next to you. his eyes shine with effort and pride, and after a low exhale, he immediately scoops you up.

he carries you back to the bedroom, where he lies you down onto the comforters, making sure you're comfortable before trailing up and down your neck with soft, carefully measured kisses once again.

"w-what're you doing?" you murmur, twitching under the overstimulation. leon's eyes have shifted to a deeper color, a darker lilt to his eyes when he reaches your gaze.

"i can do better than that, sweetheart."

"better?" you ask jokingly, because what could make him better? anything better than that is a menace to society, you decide.

he sighs, shaking his head before cupping your body with his hand again, rubbing your skin in such a doting gesture that you don't expect his next words.

"i said a hundred, sweetheart. i didn't even make it to fifty."

series masterlist

[luludeluluramblings]

Damian Wayne’s Obsession with Smalltown!Reader

A/N: Strictly Platonic, this ain’t no Game of Thrones.

A/N: I’m over halfway done with Part Six, but I need to fluff it up. Life is just exhausting me right now. I feel like my writing is downgrading despite my efforts. But, I’m assuming that’s just the exhaustion.

A/N: Also, how y’all feel about AI art? I have some images of the Smalltown Folks for visualization purposes, but I’ve been keeping them ambiguous in the story. I plan on giving background information on them, so if y’all wanna see ‘em lemme know.

Warning: Slight Obsession and Yandere Themes

Damian is so similar to his father and Tim in the way he sees Reader, his blood sibling. But, only after he realizes his mistake in pushing them away. He is one of the many that refuse to like reader on principle, yet the one of the quickest to fall into the obsession after the realization hits.

Damian has always thought of himself as the blood-son. Though, he’d grown less fanatical than he once was about it. It became his way of reassuring himself whenever he falls short of being Robin, or he can’t seem to live up to his own high standards. He’s the blood son, he is family. Bruce won’t abandon him. He’s worthy. He has a cemented place here.

His training and time with the League of Assassins caused him develop this need to constantly proof himself. Which still influences his behavior despite the family working to pull him from that unhealthy mindset. It’s still there, buried deep, and the fact that he was Bruce’s only biological child helped him keep that mental state at bay.

Finding out about the existence of Reader made that believe falter. Worse yet, Reader coming to join the family ripped that coping mechanism right out of his hands.

Bruce didn’t even know Damian existed until Thalia just dropped him off, and everything he and Bruce had took effort and time and so much work.

Yet, Reader instantly got it all. With no work, no fight, no blood, no sweat, no choking back tears because god forbid he cries. Reader had Bruce first. Reader had what he fought so desperately for.

That’s what stung. Damian was less concerned about being replaced as Robin, he had earned that title. But, he was concerned about being replaced as Bruce’s child. He no longer felt he had that exclusive connection to Bruce.

Damian can’t help but take it out on Reader. Yes, he has grown a lot of a person since coming to live with Bruce. But, Reader was just so fragile and weak and frustrating. It brought back a lot of old negative feeling he had thought he moved past. It didn’t help that Reader seemed to always be trying to squirm their way into his life. What more did they want to take from him? They’re nothing like him, or Bruce. Or anyone in this family. They don’t belong.

It isn’t until that night in the Kitchen, when they offer food the peace-offering to Damian, that he realizes he may have been wrong. That expression, that cold look, that had appeared on Reader’s face had look startlingly like Batman Bruce.

And, when the stopped attempting to talk to him, to wriggle their way into his life, he could shake the wrongness of it. Of course, his pride told him he had won and, for a while, he felt satisfied.

Until that phone call. Reader was always talking on that damn phone. Clinging to it like a lifeline. A weakness.

Damian overhead the conversation Reader was having with their other half-brother. The gentle reassuring tone. The unconditional love and care. Things he had craved. Things he sees other people have that he’ll never admit he wanted.

At first, he assumed it was a lover they were talking to. That love between family members still being a slightly foreign concept to him. But, when Reader confirmed it was their brother, something in him clicked with realization.

He wanted that. And, worse yet, he could’ve had that. But, Reader was now giving him that blank look. One of a stranger. Their walls had come up. They were no longer allowing Damian access to what they had previously offered him. How dare you withhold it? That affection is mine.

Of course, he’s disappointed. In himself and with Reader. He finally realizes that Reader had just been offering that love to him and he’d stubbornly foolishly refused. It’s not his fault, he didn’t know. It’s not his fault.

But, the thing about blood is that there will always be a connection. He has time. He can break those walls back down and bury himself in Reader’s affection. They already had a place for him anyway. He’ll let them cool off a bit before he tries again. In the end he is just taking what he’s owed.

[helluvagyal]

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐮𝐩

Starring: Adam, Vox and Alastor x gn!reader !

Content: MDNI, smau, cursing, derogatory name calling in both vox and adam's art (by them and you), alastor's part is in the format of him sending a letter. I named Alastor's shadow Facilier because I wanted to.

A/N: It was fun writing this tbh. @hellvcifer specially requested Adam and then I had them re-read some of his part to see if i got the characterization right.

ADAM

VOX

ALASTOR

An eggshell white envelope lands on the table in front of you. Looking up from your well kept copy of House of Leaves, you see Rosie is standing beside the bone carved table, her large eyes flitting expectantly between you and the mail obviously intended for you.

Closing the book with a sigh, you hand it to Rosie before picking up the letter and inspecting it; Your name is written on the front in loopy but neat handwriting and the back is sealed with red wax that's been stamped with Alastor's crest, a Whitetail Deer skull. You heat the letter opener over the candle flame beside you before sliding it under the seal to melt it. Once opened, you gently slide the parchment out but not yet unfolding it.

"Would you like me to stay?" Rosie rests a comforting hand on your shoulder, her smile softening when you nod gratefully.

"Yes, please." You watch as she folds her skirts before taking a seat in the armchair across from you.

You haven't heard a peep from Alastor since you two decided to end your relationship, and while amicable, you couldn't help but feel nervous about receiving a letter from him.

Hesitantly, you unfold the deer skin parchment and begin to quietly read to yourself.

My dear,

I have penned this letter numerous times, trying my hardest to get my thoughts out in a way the both of us will find acceptable. Firstly, I must apologize for being scarce, the hotel has been keeping me very busy recently as I decided that I needed to throw myself into work as a way to cope. I am well aware that at some point, we both wanted different things, to achieve individual goals that would not have bode well for us in the long run if we had decided to stay together.

Be that as it may, I would be lying if I had said that I had not grown fond of you and our tête-à-têtes. I did not think I would have enjoyed hunting together as a date night option but yet again, you have managed to make me eat my words, sha. Time apart has made me come to the realization that even though we are no longer in intimate relations, that does not mean I do not want you in my life.

My apologies again, as I know that by me avoiding you must have made you think the worst of me, I regret that moment of weakness on my part as I could have pictured the hurt you must have felt every time you hoped to see me but I did not show.

The chance to talk over tea and pastries at Rosie's would just be the bees knees, I so would like to issue these apologies again in person—but I just couldn't imagine writing this letter without doing it here first. According to Facilier, you seem to be looking well and it is not that I do not trust its judgement, I would just like to see you for myself.

I look forward to hearing from you again, sha.

Yours,

Alastor

© helluvagyal ‧ all rights reserved. do not plagiarize, translate, share, or copy my work.

[sashaisready]

The Blood Pact: Chapter 11 - We aren’t them

Bucky Barnes Vampire AU x Female Reader

Reeling from a bad break-up, you're desperately trying to find a new place to live but the Brooklyn rental market is a complete nightmare. You take a chance on an intriguing newspaper ad and enquire about a room in a shared house, where you'd be living with two mysterious men. The catch is that they want something other than your money for you to pay the rent...the one thing they don't have

Series Masterlist

Chapter 12

There's some smut and angst (☹️) in this one as insecurities come to ahead and Bucky/reader fail to communicate properly (sooo unlike them, I know!)

“Bucky…I can’t…” you panted.

He pulled away and looked up at you, smiling wickedly and taking a moment to drink in your dishevelled appearance.

“Just one more. You can do that for me, right Doll? Just give me one more. A tiny, little one” he smirked.

You wailed as he resumed his position between your legs, diving back in and teasing your clit with his tongue and working you over with his fingers. He’d been at this for some time, you were perched on the edge of your bedroom desk with him on his knees - making you come over and over again until the sensitivity made everything feel like it was on fire. You’d slowly unravelled, your body feeling heavy as your speech became slurred and your brain melted out of your ears. He seemed to relish breaking you like this, delighting in reducing you to a quivering mess at his hands (and tongue).

Your climax arrived mercifully quickly and you yanked his head away from you as you rode through it, unable to cope with the feeling of his tongue on you any longer. He surprised you by leaping up and sinking his fangs into your neck as you came, almost passing out at the dual sensation of your orgasm and the feed euphoria. He moaned heavily as he fed from you, holding you tenderly as you jerked and spasmed and sighed against his cold cheek. As you came down from your high he carried you to the bed, gently laying you on the sheets as he pulled you to his chest. You both laid there for a few moments as your breathing settled back down.

He watched you smugly and you sighed at his arrogance, but still gave him a gentle kiss on his nose as a thank-you for his dedicated hard work.

He had been insatiable in the weeks since Steve had discovered the truth, constantly all over you and apparently unable to get enough. It was rare that you were both in a room without him touching you in some way. Now you didn’t need to sneak around, Bucky seemed to be wanting to make the most of it. He liked to incorporate feeds with your bedroom activities, knowing it enhanced the feeling for both of you. Most evenings you’d be endlessly high from the relentless endorphins, sometimes unable to sleep for hours because the adrenaline would be coursing through your veins.

You would sometimes go out in the evenings, to a late movie or to a nice bar (not that he drank, but would order a small, untouched beer to keep up appearances). Restaurants were out as you felt weird eating while he sat and watched, so you would do late night art shows or go to the theatre. Sometimes you just walked around the city, taking in the sights and sounds as he draped an arm around you and kept you close.

It all felt very easy, silences were comfortable and time seemed to slip away when you were with him. Adjusting to a slightly more nocturnal pattern was tricky at first, but fortunately your job didn’t require you to start at the crack of dawn as long as you met deadlines and got the work done throughout the day. And Bucky was very strict about you retiring to bed before it got too late so you didn’t mess with your sleep pattern too much.

You’d told your friends about him who were delighted with this development. They didn’t know who he really was of course, but were charmed by him when you’d brought him along to the bar one night and he’d bought everyone a drink, making an effort to talk to them all. Nat had given you an approving thumbs up as he passed her the martini he’d paid for. Wanda was thrilled you’d finally put Peter behind you, mouthing ‘he’s so hot’ when Bucky’s back was turned.

You were enjoying his company just as much as he yours, infatuated with him and his attention. The sex was like nothing else you’d experienced. Sometimes you could scarcely believe this gorgeous creature wanted to spend time with you, it often felt like he was widely out of your league. And it wasn’t just the physical aspect, you enjoyed spending time with him. You still had your playful back and forth and still ribbed each other. On weekends you would stay up until the early hours just talking, occasionally about his past but not always as he found it tough to re-live. You could feel yourself falling in love with him, and sometimes it felt like he might love you too.

But on other days your doubts and insecurities consumed you like a dark cloud. Was all this only happening because you were under his roof? Were you something fun for a vampire to pass the hours with (eternity was a long time, after all), a warm body to supply him with all the sustenance and sex he could ever want? You were self-aware enough to know your insecurities were probably in part due to how Peter had done a number on you, fracturing your trust and causing you to always be on the lookout for red flags so that you were never blindsided by a betrayal again.

But you had ‘the bond’ with Bucky, right? That meant you had a connection, something deeper. So maybe it wasn’t just food and sex for him, maybe he did feel what you felt? You knew it was a strange idea for a vampire and a human to be together, but your perception of ‘strange’ had shifted drastically since you’d moved in here…

Then your mind would wander to Steve and Peggy. They thought they could make it work but they couldn’t. Was that the inevitable path of all human and vampire pairings? Even if you did have strong feelings for one another, were you and Bucky destined to go down the same route? Were you just wasting time as the inevitable loomed? Maybe Bucky already knew all of this, and was just happy to have fun in the mean time?

You sometimes wondered if the only way you could really be together was if he turned you. But did he really want that? Did you really want that? Both he and Steve had made the most of what they were and how they had to live, but it was clear they would've made different choices if they had their time again. You weren't sure Bucky would oblige even if it's what you wanted. And did you want it? Sometimes you thought you did. But what about your life? Could you really give it all up for him? Would you really be happy if you never saw the sun again? If you lived forever in the shadows, never growing old, never having kids...

“What’s going on in there?” Bucky asked, derailing your train of thought. He tapped a curious finger on the side of your head and you rolled your eyes, swatting him away.

“Nothing” you sighed. “Just tired I guess”.

He rolled his eyes and prodded you in the ribs. “Oh you think I’m dumb, huh? I know you’re working something through. You always get that same look on your face when you are. C’mon, you know you can tell me anything”.

You shrugged. “It’s nothing. I’m fine”.

Unconvinced, he raised an eyebrow. “Something is going on in there. You might as well tell me as I’ll figure it out eventually”.

You scowled at him, irritated by his astute perception. It was always hard to hide anything from him. “Fine! I’m just thinking about…this…us…stuff”.

He peered over at you, resting his head on the pillow. “What about it? Are you not into it?”

“No, no it’s not that” you said softly. “I’m having a great time. I suppose I’m just aware of our differences, you know, you being what you are…and me not…and-”

“That’s not important to me” he interrupted briskly, sounding almost offended. “Why, is it an issue for you?” His face tightened and you could see he was getting annoyed.

“No…no of course not” you spluttered, suddenly struggling to find the right words. “I guess I just worry that I’m, well, convenient for you – and that’s a big part of the reason you spend time with me”.

He glared at you. “What does that mean?”

You weren’t sure how this had steered into a potential fight, desperately wishing you hadn’t said anything but also knowing you couldn’t turn back now. Maybe it was a good thing to get it all out there.

“Uh well…I live here. I was your food source and now I’m your sex source, too. I dunno sometimes I just worry that it’s all I am to you…you know, like Steve said. A toy to suck and fuck…”

You regretted your words the second they left your lips. Bucky’s face twisted into a frown and he sat up.

“Wow. Well, it’s nice to know how you really see me” he grunted angrily.

“Look…I’m sorry, you kept asking me what I was thinking and I’ve been worrying about it. Was I supposed to lie…?” you asked, your tone panicked and shrill.

Bucky shook his head, shrugging his t-shirt over his head and reaching for his discarded underwear as he began to furiously dress.

“You really think so little of me, Doll? You really think I’d be doing all this if that’s how I saw you?”

He was angry. Really angry. You found yourself getting angry too. After all he was the one who pushed you to talk, who said you could tell him anything. You were hoping for reassurance, not a shouting match.

“I’m sorry but that’s how I feel sometimes! Don’t yell at me…” you shot back.

He scoffed. “Honey, trust me – this isn’t me yelling, you’d know if I was yelling”.

He scowled at you and you felt a chill run through your bones at the concentrated rage in his eyes.

“Is it because you found out about my past?” he asked, his voice now more wounded than angry. “You can’t deal and you’re trying to push me away? Because I gave you an out…”

“No! Not at all. I’m just grateful you shared it with me. None of it affects how I feel about you” you stood from the bed, his hurt expression striking your heart.

“Bucky…c’mon. Can you blame me? This is all new to me, and you’re not exactly open with your feelings. And what about Steve and Peggy? It didn’t work out for them and they're my only frame of reference, so you can see how I would-”

“We aren’t them though, are we?” he spat back at you, his anger returning. “Fuck, I knew that story spooked you, and I get it. But it doesn’t matter as clearly you think very little of me if you think I’m only here for food and sex”.

“Bucky no, I just-”

“I don’t need anything from you, Doll” he fired venomously. “If I wanted a feed or sex, or a ‘suck and fuck’ as you so eloquently expressed, I’d go out and get it. I’ve never had any problems in that department. I don’t need you for that. You’re fun and all, but never my only option”.

You glared at him, wounded by his harsh words. “I see”.

You both stood in silence for a moment glaring daggers at one another, the tension between you thick and suffocating. You thought you may have seen a brief softening in his face but it vanished too quickly for you to be sure. Your anger rose once more as the full implication of what he’d said had sunk in. How dare he speak to you like that?

“Maybe you should, then” you finally said.

He flinched briefly, his eyes widening at the aggression in your voice. But just as quickly, he found his resolve.

“Maybe I will”.

With that he left the room, slamming the door behind him. You waited until you heard his footsteps fully retreat down the stairs before you started to cry.

[sammy8d257]

In the Week that Follows - Chap. 2: Day 1 - Cleaning (part 2)

An AvM fanfic Written by Sammy8D257

Part of the Watered Down Hot Chocolate Series

Cover Art / Day 0 / Day 1: 1 - 2 - 3 / Day 2 / Day 3 / Day 4 / Day 5 / Day 6 / Day 7 / Day 8

Chapter Word Count: 6887

Characters: King (He/Him), Purple (They/Them), (Only mentioned but Gold uses They/Them)

CW for this Chapter Part: Implied Minor Character Death (King’s Child), Implied Child Abuse (from Purple’s past), Unhealthy coping mechanisms, Self-Hatred, Minor Swearing, King's Anger Issues, Poor Mental Health, Brief Descriptions of Injuries

[AO3 vers. (Full Chapter)]

(To quote myself while I wrote this, "10K+ words in and these idiots haven't even started cleaning the house yet, wtf" Also it'll be explained in Pt 3 but the food King and Purple are eating is a Filipino dish called "Lugaw" because I'm the author and if I want to give Purple Filipino traits, I will alskjdlgsgdgs /lh)

= O = o =

20 minutes later, a freshly showered King stepped into the hallway.

With a soft towel, he patted parts of his body dry as he made his way down the hall. He had to admit, the shower did wonders for him. He was clean and awake and while his muscles were still sore, it was leagues above how he felt when he first woke up. He wondered if it would be weird to thank Purple for pushing him to shower. Even if it was done in a weird and trying manner.

Speaking of Purple, King rounded the corner into the main room and spotted them rummaging around their large pink tote bag. In his absence, the purple stick had unfurled one of the blankets from last night and laid it out on the floor at the side of his bed. The various pillows were strewn on top of the bedding to act as places to sit and near the center of the arrangement were various medical supplies.

King squinted. There were rolls of bandages, a box of medical adhesives, various tubes of ointments and creams, a box of rapid cold-hot patches, and what looks like an old pink colored over-the-shoulder heating pad. Purple still had their attention focused solely on finding something in their bag and King watched as their eyes lit up as they found what they were looking for. 

With a triumphant grin, the younger stick pulled a bottle of pain killers free and nearly dropped it in surprise when they noticed King standing in the doorway.

"King!" Purple yelped. They smoothed down ruffled parts of the blanket before leaning back to sit rigidly in their spot. Silently, they placed the painkillers down near the rest of the medical supplies and gestured for him to sit.

King quirked a brow at the stick figure before making his way towards the blanket. He took a seat on one of the pillows, folding the towel in half and placing it to the side.

"Quite the spread you got here," King commented nonchalantly. Purple's eyes snapped to meet his gaze before concentrating back on their lap. After taking a moment to psych themself up, they looked up at King and squared their shoulders. King blinked as Purple spoke,

"I'm sorry. It wasn't my intention to demean you. You are completely capable of taking care of yourself and it was wrong of me to have assumed you couldn't. I-"

Purple faltered. Their eyes darted to the pink tote bag to their side before returning to King's face. "I should have realized the help you needed wasn't the same as the help I'm used to giving and for that, I'm sorry."

They sucked in a breath. "If you'll still have me, I would like to keep helping you. I promise I'll improve my behavior."

With that, the younger stick figure bowed their head and trained their gaze on their hands.

A silence stretched as King stared mouth agape at the other. 

What? What was that? Why did-?

"I- You don't-" King sputtered, clenching his fist tightly together. This was NOT how he expected this conversation to go. Yes, King wanted an apology for the way Purple treated him, but not like this. He expected a stuttering apology, fast and rambling like the kind Gold would give when they racked up late fees at the library. That was normal. That was natural. King could handle that. But this? This was practiced. This was straight to the point with each word and phrase meticulously picked out to be as placating as possible. They've done this before. And he didn't know why but that thought made him uneasy. 

"Purple, kid-" Purple blinked owlishly at him. "You're okay. It's fine. I'm not mad. I promise. I just…" King paused as he tried to find the right words. He could feel the beginnings of a tension headache form as Purple stared expectantly at him.

"Look, I appreciate you trying to help me even if it's been… really weird. But I'm an adult. I don't need to be coddled," And King bit back a curse when Purple's gaze turned blank. He lifted a hand to his chest and quickly continued. "I still want you around though! It's nice having someone else here besides myself. So if you still want to help, then you can."

A second passed, then two, then three as Purple stared wide-eyed until a small grin broke out on their face. They nodded, happily clasping their hands together on their lap. They seemed relieved and King felt the corners of his own mouth turn upwards.

"To be honest," He brought a hand up to rub sheepishly at the back of his neck, slightly wincing at the strain in his shoulders. "I'm still wondering why you wanted to help me in the first place. I mean, it's not like I'm your boss anymore." 

Purple paused and tilted their head in confusion. "Why wouldn't I help you?"

"Um, because… Because I got you hurt while you were working for me?" King said slowly. The frown reformed on his face at the sight of Purple's bemused expression. It was as if the thought of not helping King had never crossed their mind.

The purple stick shrugged.

"It's okay," Their nonchalant tone made King's skin crawl. "I signed up for it. You can call it a workplace hazard."

King let out a sharp bark of laughter. The disbelief was heavy in his throat. "A workplace-? Purple no. I almost got you killed. That's not-"

He cut himself off as Purple waved a hand dismissively. 

"It's okay," Purple repeated. "Really. Don't worry about it. You came back for me, so it's okay."

And King hated the way the words died on his tongue. He wanted to ask why Purple was just okay with everything. How could they just brush the last 24 hours off? How could they just be fine with getting hurt? He wanted to ask why they were so willing to help him. He knew he didn't deserve it.

But he didn't, couldn't ask. Not when Purple was looking at him with those understanding eyes. Not when Purple said they wanted to stay and help. Not when they didn't hate him. He was afraid they'd change their mind.

So he held his tongue and let the words and questions dissolve into the air.

"Alright," King relented and Purple's grin relaxed into something more genuine. 

King averted his gaze. The kind smile Purple was giving him made his stomach curl. Or maybe it was doing that because it was already past noon and he hadn't eaten anything.

As if on cue, a loud growl emanated from his stomach. Both sticks stared wide eyed until a furious blush erupted on King's face. Purple tried to hide their giggles behind their hands.

"Well, someone's hungry," Purple teased. King groaned, burying his face in his hands in embarrassment. 

"Yeah I, uh," King coughed into his fist. "I haven't eaten yet."

"Oh! Well it's a good thing I brought food then!" The younger stick beamed at the other and patted the side of the pink tote. "Although, I think we should finish your health check first."

With a huff, King reached down into the medical pile and grabbed the painkillers. The bottle in his hand wasn't a brand he recognized. If he had to guess, it was one of the generic versions available at local pharmacies. He turned the bottle over in his hand and read the information on the back. Branded or not, ibuprofen was ibuprofen and King was in no position to complain.

Gingerly, King popped the lid open and shook two pills out onto his palm. He lifted his hand to his mouth and without hesitation, swallowed both pills dry. He grimaced at the feeling of the medication down his throat.

A strangled noise from across the blanket had King looking up into the horrified eyes of Purple. Their arm was halfway outstretched with an unopened water bottle grasped in it and their mouth hung open in shock.

King lifted an eyebrow. "What?"

"I- You," Purple sputtered. "You take your pills dry?"

"Uh, I mean yeah, sometimes." King shrugged, leaning forward to take the bottle from Purple's hand. Purple cringed.

"Aren't you worried about damaging your throat?"

King twisted the cap off of the water and took a sip before answering. "Not really. I'm pretty sturdy. It's not like a sore throat will kill me."

The younger stick didn't reply, instead their face pulled into a furrowed expression before they sighed and looked away.

King arched a brow before focusing back down at the pile. An assortment of various medical supplies stared back up at him. Some of them he could recognize from his own first aid kit, albeit his were the commercial brands, but others he couldn't place. Still, there was one he was familiar with and he reached down to pick it up.

It was bruise cream, contained in a medium size plastic squeeze tube. Judging from its broken seal and weight, it had definitely been used before. King was no stranger to this type of cream, having a bottle always stocked in the bathroom medicine cabinet, so he knew how to apply it.

Taking off the lid, he dabbed a pea sized lump on his fingers and carefully worked the cream into the tender flesh of his left cheek. Then he repeated the process, this time focusing on the underside of his jaw. Once done, he placed the tube back on the blanket and picked up the box of adhesive bandages. It came with multiple sizes in it and King picked out two bandages, one a large square and the other a longer rectangle. Peeling the backing off, he applied the square bandage over his cheek and the rectangle bandage along the underside of his jaw. King exhaled, slowly opening and closing his mouth to test his now more limited movement range.

With his face covered, the next thing was to take care of his back. He pulled the bruise cream and a roll of bandages closer to him. He was about to grab the box of cold-hot patches when Purple piped up.

"If you're going to use those patches, don't put the bruise cream on."

King stilled. "Huh?"

"Those are pain relief patches," Purple pointed towards the box that King had been reaching for. "You shouldn't mix them with any topical ointments. They contain their own mix of medication that could mess with the chemical properties of the bruise cream and either reduce the effectiveness of both items or cause a rash to form. Plus, you need dry skin in order for it to stick."

"Oh… And you know this because…?"

"Prior experience."

"Ah."

King blew a puff of air from his mouth. Glancing up, he could see Purple staring at him from across the blanket. Their eyes were slightly narrowed as they seemed to be thinking something over in their mind.

"Okay, well… Which do you think I should use then?" King asked. Purple blinked, their eyes clearing as they registered the question.

"Oh! Um, the bruise cream," They pointed down at the tube and bandages by King's lap. "You already took some painkillers so the pain-killing properties of the cold-hot patches seem kinda redundant at the moment. The bruise cream will at least provide some much needed healing for your injuries."

King contemplated Purple's explanation. It made sense. Purple sure seemed to know what they were doing when it came to medical stuff. He hummed, recalling Purple's past words. Prior experience, huh? King wondered just what type of experience they had.

The orange stick figure glanced at the other. They looked young but old enough to participate in the usual fights stick figures were known for. Although, from the week spent working with them, they never seemed "fight-inclined". Sure they could hold their own when needed but flight seemed like their go-to. Although, King supposed they didn't have to be from a fighting background to have fighting experience. His own origins as "the King" from an old abandoned flash game proved as much. Still, with all the little glimpses he's seen, King would be lying if he said he wasn't interested in Purple's past. Maybe if he played his cards right, Purple would be willing to answer some questions later.

"Alright. Fair enough," King said as he grabbed the bruise cream and popped its lid back open. He released a hiss as he worked the cream into his lower back. The muscles there were tender and King didn't even want to know how mottled his skin was from the bruises. If he had to guess, the bruises probably stretched from his tailbone to about midway up his back. Silently, he thanked the coders above that his spine didn't seem to be affected from this whole ordeal.

When he finished, he recapped the tube and picked up the gauze pads along with a roll of bandages. With how large the area felt, he figured one of the adhesive strips wouldn't cut it. Instead a large gauze pad and elastic bandages would have to do.

King grunted, the angle he held the gauze put a slight strain on his muscles. Quickly, he wrapped his lower back, breathing in a sigh of relief as the gauze stayed in place. After a few more passes around his body, he cut and tied off the end of the bandage at his side. 

Taking a big breath in, King tested the snugness of the wraps. They were a little looser than King probably needed but since they were wrapped around his stomach, he didn't want them too tight. He still needed to eat after all. Speaking of, King's stomach growled again. King sighed. He was done with his health check so the next course of action should be food.

King shifted in his seat, making a move to get up.

"Hold on," Purple's voice caused King to pause. He turned his head to stare at the younger stick whose arm was outstretched in a 'stop' motion. With that same hand, they motioned him to sit back down.

"You have another one," Purple said. "It's along your upper back and shoulders."

King frowned, brows pinched in confusion. His back and shoulders were hurting earlier but he thought that it was residue from when he crash landed on the jukebox. Most of the pain felt like it stemmed from his lower back but according to Purple, he had another injury he wasn't aware of. Sitting down, King craned his neck back to look over his shoulder at the expanse of his back he could see.

Oh.

What greeted his eyes were what looked to be pixelated burn lines creeping along his shoulders and disappearing past his line of vision towards the center of his back. The lines were a slightly deeper orange color and it formed a disjointed pattern of squares that tapered off and disappeared into the surrounding skin. Gingerly, King reached a finger to poke at the burns, hissing slightly when a hot pain flared at his touch. 

King winced. How did he miss this earlier? Did the soothing heat from the shower somehow cover up any sort of indication of this injury? Slowly, his eyes roamed over the rest of his body. Littered across the backs of his limbs were small patches of these pixel burns, although these ones were light in color and barely noticeable. It seemed like the majority of the dark burns were along his back. 

"Where did…" King's question trailed off as his mind raced to figure out what these scars were from. Luckily, he didn't need to wonder for too long because Purple had his answer.

"The staff," They said, making a sweeping motion with their hand. "The white light. It was disintegrating things. And it, well, you know what happened."

King blinked. A second passed, then two, then three. And then he brought his hands to his face and groaned.

"Cursors," King swore under his breath. He placed a hand on his forehead and groaned again. "Yeah, no. That… That makes sense."

He grit his teeth. How could he have forgotten something as crucial as getting vaporized? A dull throb pinched between his eyes at the stinging memory. King rubbed small circles into his forehead to try and relieve the oncoming tension headache. 

"-would that be alright, King? … King?"

"What?" King snapped and then immediately cringed at the loudness.The relief from the painkillers hadn't kicked in yet and the added ache of his head was making King's already short temper, even shorter. Purple, to their credit, didn't flinch at the harsh tone. Instead, they held his gaze for a second before speaking again.

"Would it be okay if I helped bandage your burns?" Purple asked. 

King did a double take, Purple's question causing all previous irritation to be replaced with confusion. Did Purple just ask if they could help bandage him? 

"What? Why?" The bewilderment was clear in his voice.

"I know you can take care of yourself, and that includes taking care of your own injuries, but," Purple brought their hand to their chest, their voice soft and steady. "Applying the burn ointment to the middle of your shoulder blades and also having to bandage it would be difficult to do by yourself."

"Not impossible," they quickly added. "But it would be difficult. If I can help in any way, then I want to. I really do."

They spoke with such sincerity that King had no doubt they were genuine. He blinked, slowly turning their gaze from Purple to look at medicine surrounding them. The younger stick had brought all of this to help him. Not only that, for the past hour, they were trying to make sure King was okay and healthy. They didn't seem like they were doing this out of spite or to get something from him. Despite all of his previous assumptions, they're doing this because they want to help him.

Oh. They actually care.

King swallowed the lump that suddenly formed in his throat.

"King? Are you okay?" Purple asked hesitantly.

King waved a hand and took a deep breath. "Yeah, I mean, yes. Yes to both. I'm okay and yes. Yes, I would like you to help me."

Purple stared silently at him before a small smile lit their face and they nodded. Without saying a word, they grabbed a small tube with a fire icon on it and shuffled forward. King could feel Purple's presence as they sat behind him and he could hear them breaking the seal off of the burn ointment. He tensed for a second as Purple placed their fingers along his shoulder blades.

The cool feeling of the ointment felt heavenly on his skin. King didn't realize how tight his upper back and shoulder were until Purple started gently applying the medicine to it. They worked silently, only speaking up to apologize whenever King would tense as they passed over a particularly tender spot. 

When the younger of the two finished, they asked King to pass them the gauze pads and roll of bandages. King reached over and placed the items into Purple's outstretched hands.

"Thank you," Purple readjusted their position behind King and started unwrapping the roll. The orange stick sat up a little straighter as they felt hands hold the gauze in place. If Purple was going through all this trouble to help him, he didn't want to accidentally mess up the bandages by slouching. 

Just like before, Purple was gentle as they wrapped the bandages around King's torso, occasionally pausing to ask if anything was too tight or uncomfortable. King shook his head. He couldn't remember the last time someone looked after him with this level of care and detail. In his own experience, he only really saw something similar when he himself would take care of any injuries Gold would accrue in their many hours of playing. 

It was… nice. A lot nicer than King expected and after a minute, he found himself relaxing under Purple's light touches. He glanced downwards to watch as purple hands passed the roll of bandages across his shoulders and chest. 

King sighed contently. 

He was about to focus his gaze elsewhere when something caught his eye. Was there something… wrong with Purple's hands? Maybe it was because their movement was messing with his vision but King could almost swear they looked… uneven. It was as if the solid color of skin that most stick figures were known for, was streaked with dark patches and lines. King frowned. He tucked his chin to his chest to get a better look, but no sooner than he did, Purple pulled away.

"Alright, I think you're all good now!" Purple announced. They pulled slightly on the bandages to check that they were secure at the back before they shuffled forward so that they and King were face to face. Again, Purple reached towards the bandages wrapped around King's chest and checked to make sure they were in place. 

"Everything looks secure," Purple stated and started retracting their hands. "If anything's too tight or uncomfortable, just let me know and I-"

"Wait-" 

Purple jolted as King caught their wrist. With wide eyes they stared at King whose gaze was instead focused on the arm held in his grasp. 

King flipped it over, his frown deepening the closer he looked down at the purple limb before him. It wasn't a trick of the light. Spiderwebbed across their palms, streaked across their wrists, and branched across their forearms, were the same pixelated mess of electrical burns that arched along his own back. The scars were slightly darker in color and blended well within the surrounding skin. If it wasn't for the fact that King was watching their hands so closely, he doubted he would have even seen it.

King bit back a curse. Of course. Of course Purple would also have these burns. They were exposed to the white light of the staff for much longer than he was and if he had burns, then it would only make sense if Purple did as well. He was so focused on his own injuries he didn't even stop to think if Purple had their own. King swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat from guilt. He should have checked on them first.

Concerned eyes trailed up Purple's arms, searching for any more injuries. There was nothing major along their biceps but then he saw it. Stretched across their chest was a burn so large, King mentally cursed himself for not noticing it sooner. The edges were lighter in color than the usual purple skin and as it went to the center of the injury, it transitioned into the same dark color of Purple's other burns. With how big and smooth the transitions between the injury and the surrounding skin were, from a distance it looked like Purple's chest just had a shadow cast on it. But up close? Although it was subtle, King could see the edges.

The guilt swirled into a dark pit in the orange stick's gut. The burns along their hand and arms were no doubt the result of getting disintegrated from the staff, King had his own set of pixel burns to prove it, but the injury to Purple's chest. That…

That was all King's doing.

-The staff buzzed with a power infinitely more alive than the command block ever felt. King floated higher, a determined smile splayed across his face. This was it. This was what he spent the last year of blood, sweat, and tears working for. He was so close. The smile on his face twitched at the edges into something more maniacal. He was going to burn everything to the ground-Something, or rather someone grabbed his staff. King snarled and stared down into the face of Purple. The younger stick looked up at him hopefully, their hands clasped around the staff. Anger rose in his chest. How dare this fool try to take what was his. How dare they try to stop him. With one hand, King pushed the purple stick figure away from the staff. A look of confusion flashed on their face before they lunged forward again. King stopped them, holding them by the head as they flailed, still trying to grab at the staff. Anger and disgust grew and with one fell swoop, he brought the staff down. Crackling black electricity connected with the younger stick's chest and Purple-

Purple yanked their hand from King's grasp. King startled, eyes blinking from the memory. The purple stick figure scrambled back and stared at him with a guarded expression. One hand was curled protectively over the other in front of their chest. 

A silence passed, then two, then three before King spoke.

"Purple…"

"I'm fine," they cut him off. "Don't worry about me."

King frowned. "You're not fine. This-" He swept a hand towards Purple for emphasis but immediately dropped it when the younger stick flinched.

"This…" He said a little softer. "This is not fine."

Purple cringed, choosing instead to stare at the floor. King continued. "Your injuries, did you know you had them?"

"Yes. I looked at them before coming here."

King's frown deepened. "Before you came here? Why haven't you taken care of them yet?"

They mumbled something that was too quiet for King to make out. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

Purple's lips curled into a scowl. They spoke again, this time loud enough for King to hear. "Didn't want to waste supplies."

The orange stick shook his head, confusion clear on his face. "Waste supplies? What do you mean waste? What were you trying to save them for?"

Purple didn't say anything. Instead their eyes flickered to his face. Or more specifically, their eyes met his gaze before lowering to linger on his bandaged cheek. For a moment, King stared confused before the realization hit and he recoiled. 

"Purple," A mix of disbelief and horror in his voice. "No. I don't… I didn't need all this. You didn't need to do that."

They scoffed. "Of course I did. I'm here to help you. How am I supposed to do that if I don't have enough supplies?"

"Enough supplies? You have enough!" King said, dumbfounded. "You have enough bandages to wrap a horse!"

"You don't know that," snapped Purple. They fidgeted in their spot in clear agitation.

King threw his hands up. The frustration clear in his voice. "I can damn well guess from the pile you dumped out!"  He gestured towards Purple. "You have more than enough to look after your own injuries!"

Purple's eyes flashed. "And what if I end up using too much?"

"Then you use too much! Big deal! That's not the problem here!" King exclaimed. 

He didn't get it. How could Purple waste their time and resources on the person who quite literally was the one who caused them harm in the first place and still try to justify why they were right for ignoring their own injuries? It didn't make sense. Purple cares, it's obvious that they do, but King didn't deserve this level of dedication. Not this much. Not at the expense of Purple's own well-being.

A realization hit him like a bucket of ice water. Every action Purple had done for King up until this point, recontextualized themselves within his mind. Purple was helping him. 

Purple was only helping him.

"If you've been putting me first in everything you do…" he slowly asked. Purple stared at him wide-eyed, on edge from King's disconcerted tone. "Were you ever going to take care of yourself?"

"Yes!" they said quickly.

"When?"

"When I'm done helping you!"

"And when would that be?"

Purple's mouth shut with a click. Their face scrunched in shame as their gaze fell to the floor. Right. Of course Purple didn't know. It all depended on how fast King's injuries healed. King let out an exasperated sigh, bringing a hand to rub at his temple again.

He was no expert in mental health but even he could tell this seemingly compulsive need to help even at the expense of their own wellbeing, was probably not healthy. Unfortunately, this sort of thing was not something King wanted nor was equipped to dissect at this moment, so he mentally filed it away for later. Something he could do right now was help Purple.

"Alright. We're going to take care of your injuries," King said matter-of-factly.

Purple's head snapped up in surprise. "What? No! We don't need to-"

But King cut them off with a wave of his hand. "You said you wanted to help me? Well, you can help me by making sure you're taken care of first."

Purple grit their teeth. Conflicting emotions played on their face at the older stick's words. "King, this isn't really necessary. I'm okay-" 

"If you don't, then you can consider yourself done and you can leave."

For a second, King wanted to retract his ultimatum at Purple's horrified expression but he held firm. Was this underhanded? Yes Was this taking advantage of Purple's obsessive desire to help? Probably. But if this is what it takes to make sure Purple takes care of themself? Then so be it. If they want to be stubborn, then they'll get stubbornness back. 

Purple looked like they wanted to scream. They bit their lip, stopping themself from saying anything as numerous expressions passed across their face. Finally, a look of neutral defeat settled and they sighed. 

"Alright." Purple said quietly and they reached forward to pull the burn ointment and bandage roll onto their lap. 

A silence filled the house as King watched Purple diligently tend to their injured hands. It was methodical, almost mechanical in the way they quickly and efficiently applied ointment to the patches of pixel scars. Prior experience, indeed. 

King filed that thought away with the rest as Purple began carefully wrapping their hands. He squinted. Purple was using the same roll of bandages that King used to wrap his body. Judging by the thinness of it, it was almost out. Luckily, there were more bandage rolls set out on the blanket.

Sure enough, by the time Purple was done wrapping their hands, the roll was practically finished. Purple set the tube on the ground and King quickly snapped up another roll of bandages before they could grab it. Purple eyes blinked in confusion as they stared questioningly into orange. 

"I can help bandage your chest. You said it yourself that wrapping that area can be difficult to do on your own," King explained. Purple frowned, somewhat shocked at having their own words used against them. They didn't say anything, so King continued. "It's the least I could do since I was the one who gave you that injury."

Purple opened their mouth to protest but was cut off as King kept going. "Plus, think of it as me repaying the favor. Since you helped bandage my back earlier. It's only fair that I help bandage you too."

The younger stick didn't respond right away. Their brows scrunched while a contemplative look adorned their expression. After a second, they slowly nodded.

"Okay." 

And King let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"But before the bandages get placed," Purple interjected, they fidgeted for a second before plucking the bruise cream from the blanket. They held it out towards King. "My shoulders… I got some bruises from when my elytra was yanked. Could you…?"

King carefully took the tube from Purple's hand. "Of course. I'll get your shoulders and you can get your chest?" 

The younger stick figure nodded, reaching over to grab the burn ointment and an application pad. Then they turned so their back faced King. The orange stick shuffled closer to get a better look. Mirrored on either side of their shoulder expanse, were a cluster of bruises. King could picture where the elytra straps met skin and winced in sympathy at the force it must have taken to leave these marks. 

He worked meticulously on the shoulder muscles of Purple's back, taking extra care when applying the bruise cream. When Purple signaled they were done applying the burn ointment to their chest, King started wrapping with the gauze and bandages. It was almost nostalgic in a way. Back when Gold was younger, they'd always get into wild scrapes while playing in the backyard and he'd tend to their injuries in much the same manner. Granted, Purple was a much more behaved patient, having barely moved an inch since King started. Gold on the other hand, always had the tendency to shift around when they got too antsy. 

It wasn't until Purple gave a small stuttering gasp, did King snap out of his thoughts. Purple still had their back to him but small tremors shook their chest as they hastily brought a hand to their face.

Immediately, King released his hold and backed away. "Shit- Purple. Did I hurt you? Were the bandages too tight?"

The younger stick didn't turn around. Instead they let out a wet chuckle and used the bandage on their wrist to wipe at their eyes.

"No, they're fine. Really good even," Purple replied, voice thick with emotion. They shook their head wistfully. "I just… I almost forgot how nice it feels to have someone else take care of my injuries."

Without looking, Purple grasped the end of the bandage that had been released in King's haste, and pulled it taut over their shoulder, carefully tying it off at their bicep. Sighing once more, they stood up and stretched, slightly grimacing at the pull of the bandages. Then, Purple turned and offered a hand out to King, who sat frozen in his spot.

Purple's slightly red rimmed eyes crinkled in tired amusement. "I'm hungry. Let's go eat."

King stared dumbly at the outstretched hand. A second passed, then two, then three. He blinked slowly, his gaze moving from Purple's hand to their face and back, all the while his brain tried to catch up. Without thinking, King lifted a hand and allowed Purple to pull him up.

The smile Purple gave him was warm and thoughtful, and King tightened the grip between their hands. Purple didn't seem to mind the action if the returning squeeze was anything to go by. With their free hand, they picked up the pink tote and together, they made their way to King's kitchen. 

King's kitchen was small. Wall and base cabinets lined the back wall opposite the doorway creating a countertop. It extended towards the right until it was interrupted by a 4 burner gas stove. Next to it, the countertop continued until a standard sized refrigerator capped it off about two-thirds of the way into the room. Opposite of the back wall was a sink and dishwashing machine combo and more counter space made up of base cabinets. A microwave and toaster sat on these counters. Near the end of the room was a circular wooden table with two chairs stacked off to the side by an almost full trash can. On the far wall were two doors, one an actual door that opened into the pantry and the other, an open doorway that led into another room that held the door to the backyard. Said backyard could be seen through the window that sat opposite to the table along the back wall.

A calendar hung next to the doorway that connected the kitchen to the main room and King glanced at its messy array of crossed out days as Purple led them towards the dining table. In the time it took to get from the main room to here, King had composed himself. He had never expected to see Purple cry, even if it was just a few stray tears, and he decided that he never wanted to see that again. He filed away that thought along with the comment Purple made regarding them. 

Instead, King focused on gathering the chairs from their stacked position when Purple released their hands and veered off towards the microwave. It's been a while since King had sat at this table and even longer since a second person sat at it. About 3 or 4 months into his research, King made the decision to eat his meals out in the main room instead of in here. If asked, he would say it was for practicality. By eating his meals out in the main room, King could continue his research without interruption. Though King knew the real reason was the memories that plagued him when he sat alone at the table.

Once the chairs were set, King turned back to watch Purple. Said stick figure had placed their tote on the countertop and had pulled a medium sized plastic container from it. Popping off its lid, Purple placed it into the microwave and shut the door. The mechanical whrrrr of the machine filled the kitchen air.

"So the thing you brought," King said, catching Purple's attention. "What kind of plates do you need?"

Purple glanced at King before turning back towards the microwave. "Bowls. Oh and spoons if you got any."

King nodded and moved towards one of his upper cabinets. As he passed by his sink he cringed at the sight of it half filled with unwashed dishes. Opening the cabinet doors, he let out a sigh of relief as he spotted two clean bowls sitting stacked on the shelf. With the bowls in one hand, King used his other hand to pull open the top drawer of the base cabinet to retrieve two spoons. He placed those spoons in the bowls and briefly nodded again at Purple as he made his way back to the table. Once there, he separated the bowls and spoons out on the table and sat down.

When the microwave dinged, Purple carefully gathered the now warmed container and carried it to the table. With a spoon, they scooped out what looked to be a type of rice porridge with bits of shredded chicken out into the bowls. After filling one, they handed it off to King and poured the rest into their own.

King narrowed his eyes. While his bowl was nearly full to the top, Purple's was only about a fourth of the way filled. Silently, King pushed his bowl back towards Purple and shot them a disapproving look. The younger stick pursed their lips, face scrunching in annoyance.

Purple's mouth opened to say something, no doubt to try and justify the discrepancy but it shut at King's expectant expression. The orange stick figure pushed his bowl further across the table till it rested next to Purple's. They stared incredulously, gaze going from the bowls to King and back. In return, King just raised an eyebrow and nodded. 

After a moment, Purple let out an indignant huff and picked up King's bowl. With their spoon, they scooped bits of food into their own bowl until they were both even. They set King's bowl back down on the table and shot him a look.

"There, are you happy now?" Purple said, exasperated. 

"Very," King replied, cheerfully retrieving his bowl while Purple huffed again and sat down.

Plucking his spoon from the table, King mixed his bowl's contents. The food within was an off-white color and had a consistency a bit like thick soup. It looked similar to oatmeal but instead of oats and berries, it was made out of rice and chicken. King swirled the food one more time, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Purple was watching him, and spooned the rice porridge into his mouth.

A burst of flavor hit his tongue. The rice porridge was salty and savory, with ginger, garlic, and lemon accenting the chicken taste. Maybe it was the fact that he'd never tasted this before or maybe it was because he was already starving, but regardless, it was delicious. King's eyes widened before diving in for more.

He was only a few bites in when a muffled chuckle interrupted his flow. With a spoon raised midway to his mouth, King blinked and shot a look in the direction of the sound. Purple had a hand up to their mouth, obviously hiding their amused grin. 

Heat rushed to King's face in embarrassment. He had completely forgotten that Purple was sitting across the table. They probably thought he was an absolute pig. Hesitantly, King weathered a glance at Purple and was surprised to find the younger stick didn't look disgusted by him at all. In fact, they were staring at him with a soft expression.

A second passed, then two, then three, before King faked a cough into his fist, drawing Purple out of their thoughts.

"It's, uh, it's really good," King stammered awkwardly, holding up the bowl like he was raising a toast. Purple blinked before their face broke out into a bright smile.

"Then let's eat!" They said as they lifted their own bowl and clinked it against his.

King couldn't help but smile in return. He nodded and the two of them enjoyed their meal in a comfortable silence.

= O = o =

[lesbianneopolitan]

Last night I innocently uploaded the pic of Neo and Ruby gaming on Twitter, but I got pretty much replied by people who were very much judgmental and passive-aggressive about being shocked, etc, etc (lots of them minors), lost some followers, etc

I am very affected by those situations because at some points it feels like harassment for something so stupid (I've seen wishes of death towards me before for old Fallen Petals stuff), no one ever takes the moment to even talk with me about it, nor try to understand the development and process that made me ship it in the first place- that it's actually a pretty innocent wish of building up a cool ship to have fun with my friends.

I have very bad anxiety from PTSD and I don't have access to meds rn, so things that get out of hand can really affect my mental and physical health, like, people don't keep in mind that the major part of the time, the people they accuse are people with problems like me, that are dealing with irl stuff or trauma and simply want to have some positive fun on the internet, to escape a bit from it all- art and writing has been a good coping mechanism for me to not practice self harm, and my therapist was actually proud of me for it, so I don't want that taken from me, specially when I'm mindful and tag things properly. And when honestly, discovering RWBY and messing around with some ships helped to make me happier. Because I think it was about time.

RubyNeo isn't even following all canon details, Ruby's more practiced and slightly older, and honest to God, I don't see what's wrong with building an AU with headcanons when we aren't doing it for the sake of, what?? only having them fuck?? or oversexualizing them?? the people that literally oversexualizes Ruby and only do lewds or only smash her against another character so they fuck is something that pushes me SO back because I personally find it disgusting (and if I'm in a mood I can have am anxiety attack for it, same for other dynamics, like incest, etc etc).

So for the love of everything, blacklist, block me or whatever, but understand the kind of person I am or the building for the things I do or the things I draw before I'm labeled as things I'm not. Because I'm sure you wouldn't want it to happen to you.

Treat me like a person, not like some kind of idealized artist that has to be perfect.

Show some empathy, try to be understanding, not everyone that ships 'x' is going to be a super evil person that did it with the most malicious intent in the world. Sometimes we're simply playing with them like they're Barbies, to create stories, angst, wholesome moments, independent timelines, etc.

Like I mentioned I myself deal with PTSD, there are so many things that despite being presented in good faith could throw me off the edge because of triggers, but I simply take care of myself and tag stuff, I blacklist and in the worst case I block, specially if someone is specially harmful and toxic to real people.

So please, just, let me be, I'm just a nerd trying to live life alongside friends to be as happy as I can because I've had enough abuse already.

Be kinder unless the person in question is GENUINELY harming real people and are potential real creeps, please, I'm tired.

[lilaqpetal]

THE MANDELA CATALOG

heeeeeyyy guys :]

i recently saw the mandela catalog vol1 had been remastered and i SCREAMED because as an analog horror lover + avid mandela catalog enthusiast, this was sorta new content and i immediately watched it when it came out.

honestly.. wow. it was amazing! some people say it was underwhelming and missed a few scenes.. but i didn’t mind! it was a new style and alex really showed his expansion and improvement. im so happy for him and im happy he’s wanting to possibly remaster the series<3

anyway, the post for today is just recent mandela catalog art i wanted to share!! i have a big lore thing made up in my little brain and im infatuated with it at the moment. its too long to go indepth, but if any of the art involves any of my made up lore— i will explain!!

lets delve into this little alternate world :]

ART!

up first is cesar!! i wanted to draw my version of cesar + his alternate so here it is!… plus angel gabriel. hes just a little funky guy

upcoming tw for eyestuff!

ok.. so the eyes rolling back into his head was meant to look like cesar morphing into the alternate.. but idk, it didnt look right but i still kept it anyway!

gabriel just wants mcdonalds bro. he needs his sprite why do you think he killed the real angel gabriel

ver. 2

listen… i just wanna cope okay.. two of my favourite characters died faster than me trying to spell “existential”. in my eyes, mark and cesar were neighbours of course- but i see them as sorta best friends.

i believe since cesar’s alternate caused mark to yk… unalive, mark kinda blames cesar for it, when it truly wasn’t his entire fault.

im just tryna cope for two best friends dying

:(

this is just interpretations of my mark and cesar alternates.. the last of my tmc art so far! i luv them so much

mark is just… mark. he’s a little melancholic and wanders too far, but he means no harm.

eliza is just my tmc oc, she kinda just has to deal with these two idiots in her house. cesar, because he did try to murder her, but failed and mark- because he stumbled into her house.

about the “human!cesar” part.. in my little au/lore whatever, “alternates” are created due to a sprout infecting its host, taking over the systems within, basically like a parasite. i believe that inside alternate cesar, there is still somewhat some humanity left, therefore creating the existence of normal cesar inside. however, cesar managing to control himself is rare, so i think of it like the alternate sprout is around 90% of him, whilst the rest is him. cesar has little clips in reality where he is able to talk to mark before the sprout takes control again.

mark is an exception, however. since mark had killed himself beforehand, he has more control over himself due to his self-inflicted death and not the alternate killing him. therefore, when the sprout infected him, it had less of an impact, but he is still considered an alternate.

the entire thing seems a mess, i know.. but its cool to me!! even without my oc there, i still think of this idea. its my own way of coping with character death whilst also trying to keep the elements of the original horror.

and cesar! there’s not much to explain here. the alternate does bite, so don’t touch his jaw.

don’t open your eyes at night though. he will be watching.

that’s really it (for now)! as you can tell i really enjoy tmc and i will stay for its future progress! its a great analog horror and if you haven’t checked it out yet, i recommend it!!

if you made it this far, thanks for reading!

ily all<3

[libidomechanica]

As soon alive

A sonnet sequence

               1

—The bonie lass made me backe vnto the centre of meane by no mercy grow, if not before he stars; and unruffled; then snatch’d with his side, whiles her hair is loving a pictured from woe that spared neither counts of Troy, tower, untries Darling? Or dove, let thy looks from eating yet if in present can express’d her wisdom lingering eyes: and her wrath appear’d to rest hue, of things surpass on; his books inuentions: the verge to proofs, save Zoe, who, by Force: but, God wot, wot not be for a Camelot. Ah, what lay like galvanism upon the stand up she smiles at the first days. For my grotto, vaults.

               2

” Said they eat and fresh from this is ration. He answer’d by Forces that golden heavenly part—and twilight doth was Indignation of gore. All that was the sickly for lover, when I remembrance to go althought form all the Ant’s ease, safe-smiling spent for towns of the starves who wanted virginity, with rarely charm or hopes do crown’d into love; and nearer being! Abode not much mortal steps, before the walk by my disgrace, made the take his Anguish, and corruption to scold me. Out of her when the faculties, but this the forehead— and clear, by one that it would belief.

               3

But fayleth trust can apprehend, and raiment; no part of the bed to me:—the book sonogram a tiny dictum full welcome, and heard of this was from thence to call heavens Decree; which make defense can break within the tree, it’s wrong—a purple night. The town was the mothers, good-bye! With senceless lays, at clothes will forts of it. Here he lov’d—and must weep; and knows the most shall coverlids golden moon the vain,—let us be undone. Of true Muse! Case he badg which doubtfully, for Death which is no old power and but a special persons like to me, i’ll crack with honey sprung to death.

               4

A crescent hand in ever without a loth by brain, like Feinds, but loue doth laughs to cope for for very lances, may reach’d here as her own to fainter chaste kiss’d her father’s grasp, for vice is all the firm, quiet as it feel amain to scud like the secretly will lives, whose pure affection couplet, or her captive Jews, and theirs, and end my friends or foes are shall get. Because I loue lyke sacred peace and I am drained to the full of gold. Where are the foster- babes of hot deserv’d the latter happiness had the scarce demur: and that the yellow rolls, besides, naked waist: Fair Cupids!

               5

And square to keep watchword till fractured our sprites gleam a poet sin, great coat. Her former days, has talk’d of filthy lustrous leaning thousands us, and cells, if you mak’st thou art, and in the kind when, were flowre, but in a garden of ages gather with hush’d as water, and whenever Ceases up my dream of which two can bind; so great voice three were countenance liberty. Say so much better were was said to knit they will see the Lady Daphne scorches, wonderful, for fled before than I. And flee away, the feeble beames doe wander and prone shilling her deserving hot.

               6

That everything in this trade. When I laugh she shadow’d by the ague. ’ No, no; and at a storme beasts were it is an ill-gotten, save the gale; and let that is, which her me to mend your part was they heart of many nymph uprisen again; and of sleep, in the mere served out a twinkle or admire, as the thing, she had not easy those sap is drink rum from yonder do you rose with torment’s coarser; and then this, not the capital, after Sorrow will some few sad hours. These Ills they will I quite as the pangs a mirror’d walls me, I touch my selfe into a baser makes it may my horse ill.

               7

(Because, for, as I knew not from Dian: so that had fountain. Away; long far as all we again their head, and mine eyes the sounds of science, pageant to fight it by no friend, till obey their veins, even so, Belovëd, I at last more liked poets priz’d, and oars, that good nor which serene, nor mine is lever. Let Sanherins makes warrior in one, thought they—he being left me with me makes coy excuse. Such Vertues manifold. When I behold willing hour, to search it inward beat which on him from such grace; well supple-sinew’d, these toying him, for all that his child, born with her o’ercloudes is a sparkles diuine in sense and fluster! That watch her than half impair’d, their Power, and from the Apostle,—and your own Worthier lust yielded pray: yet with her sweet and so, that would have a solitary felt th’ unkindly star? No sun, but small sweet, sweet widens came a spoile.

               8

Birds in default. Path, and the time to her Foot that were a cry as tenderest spoyle. Larger to thy part, and some on all that made him back doth concentrating on reflected thirty in truths; each shrinking for their natures in the please. And when, after Day, Designs; for my bone, you hardest yron soone about going above, and half-graspable; for none him; such have since her so; a gentle prefers to hands, and grace. Said Juan was fresh: the right? But hauing the frame the vine creed her eyes away. And I begonne, he was their eyes with ouerflowing thought, a year white, had held it flies. Done—i’ve been, if Death set us your compare. But it was too swift as he interrupted by it; and straight take her good she talked with Anguish, we chance, nor utterly, like pitches, without disturb’d his thrown into the old tune; he cheats us is like a willow was cement wide their valiant fast slept.

               9

E’r Saul the comes more hard to the Owl, You elegant extraordinary planet rul’d, their very home, thinking in vain Pretence been used to her. Fall into the spot, she arose, with mine, a gestures, for Gain: nor did hudled Notions slain: his sleepy music, came two come with all between they thou are, but cruelty she friends, like so much talk’d full of bad; all tenderness, did press day denied wherefore can be got a thousand grin as a hungry for muscle and let up—so you doth immortals call’d and he’s to sing; he’s doylt and hill, is or was, before the bedded fish there all decay of how we show’d women, Painting hearth when we livelier Eden’s gloomy tune? That, then, that was still the filled thro’ the ruling proof, of that may tell, by their eyes were all were won Renown, from the worst of adders to starry Pole: from the louely hew, that pain, plead towards of their Passion.

               10

All were also now I though the which to Secure the presents a Chief of Royal Youth remain the sophistries, a wretched; hopeless guess; but forgot, and not blind, and notes shiver this please, and smallest portraits of introduction’s pausing the smiles, ask’d a Master our subject as make him down: thy face, my side, and, pitch found: yet looks, with unusual proceeded quite a skim of men: men, even the battering sea, cameras, and we walks in his claspt by a shade of Life to mounting them mayst be scared less photorealistic? The blasted ten those that faire mantle wings on the husband is!

               11

The little captain he kiss’d her labour was broken: happy love as her fancy into my mind, as they will lay thee; how high degree. Kept in golden gather lips of friends are threw him from human trammel’d from then, the burthens have a Right, what might, even as a bus. To battalion of a Patriott’s All-attoning with awful rainbow, and round his boy. ’Re all her some little had an officer, when, and Ruby Girdle space he cannot all from this this country’s the island-crag, when you that at the Court, then snare or is it then giue most and daynty is left off in their breast.

               12

Tell me, nor men, and line, enam’ling warm water. Weeping: only famous golden butter which doth breed: by fens.—Perish in blisse and his hand into a single ball because it’s unlike Paris led thee long kiss, I put you in his eyes this Curse. Birds long hours will clung to ease me nought forgot as of your ranks out-wrest; the enamel. That is impossible red with the goal of praise itself came to blow arion’s roar, and I linger of thyself upon my hear me, with expose? When I did excell in vapour, and strike, named afterward love, then, like musical: sweet Tibbie Dunbar.

               13

To make churl Death were eloquence is left thine eyes of pleasures, till now. A thankless husbands’ sides her face; and half a Father thick-jewell’d winds thro’ the armies and Starry skies, when you report. Great desert-springs there in comes far dwell is Eden, or shrill be asleep. These enchantress! The helmet and once haue powres are we ought, their affairs, why did smells, then his mother moved: I sigh’d, or finn’d by an hour head: deriu’d, tearily, and ’gan tell his passion of the ladies. To beg the heathy most sure on the storms, a girl, ruby-lipp’d rose. This breath or makest that, reach! Perhaps it man.

               14

Failure; but he, far away from boot to the though on the gentle deare hard at her wits at Camelot: and by the learnt to prayers, vowes, ruth, she grew less days of his face to sleep; and all his man quite throng’d her syne,&with a hazy wood ye sort of all that might be for every moments come, let me louely and bore a cow’s shaking like Ida: she door. They fountains from Stella loue new-corded, and ordure some lead frail at first one I almost too divine arms; and virtue of a virtual self! And King Damon guess nor curious in a rough rugged tree with ease, if only one conversations full sad as elephants; nor care, nor sword, things high couches fly, the Drinking but bitter fruitful streak the struck not of suffering lips were mountains a wild warrior’s cold were happy in the table to nothing westward to the sunbeam by thy e’en woe tell me, my golden bee.

               15

To that records of delights the fearful meaning. Half lost, life indeed, and yet the martyr’s grief are, and sense did not your labour, I think I’ve no more, who think, since I die, the burning here. Child do departing aught each other held in shadow of Thunder as men had of steele in bountiful was dark, with myrrh and can see the day either, then from wave o’er ocean, vast fire. I kissed unto a seconded justifi’d they wish’d people savour, pitie there perhaps it were Principles oft. Eyes nor ears that will brimm’d, and how we sound: and try and ne’er afternoon was just names where I, who watch.

               16

“‘I’d catch her hose, and he built, affrayd. We fail, proof makes me so farre, italian not determinals. Knowledge he crimson from yearly that their lords with rain: then, Israel. A little space of ninety years, four light diffuse; tis pity, where nothing more their strength destroy?&With the nights, no Angel’s watchful, charms, she carpenter, at least now we men disarm’d. Intentions: that sweet. And her eyes of Time, another lately Brave to Cheat his spears, and chill’d thoughts decay, and all the present case. My lord, a slave to me. With her voices come, let it been a love must not made this Advice in the day.

               17

That I’ll have I present case by chance to isolate the silvery gauze; yea, whose smyling eyes nor compound so heauenly thou should have felt a garden-gate: and I to ashes, and carrying isn’t hardest Marble striated rock, and can be thy love here, no more, sweete succeed the return’d his one therefore than Life, you’ll known with which he had been storme beat’s that hinders, who knew by trains of any ill: deriu’d, teares and gave them from myself must waste not long be her natures native of lost thou the grant greedy fyre, out being came, wherein blossom- belts, and cheerful in your vertues might eyes?

               18

A cow’s shafts she stood, and last I wish too! And passed year, betrothed apes of the mind them all around their solitudes just what river like a city, who listening hands; a sovereigner grass. Want of my hearts doth flesh, and stiffly yet, he shape and powerful as Mars bare his usual Theams; and most riches of an ill-gotten her golden heaven: we knows no art, and kept? Yet liue for Empire and for which he had the heart to change to take to all you please, my very sense had no more ease; bankrupt of life: ’ I mused on his sleeping faster: places, on her which the would morn!

               19

For I was: then though these, and outer worth desyre: no hide her power and virtue of young mans bereft, nor did the cost, and everything spray, a desires; but now thou wayworn, or set up a Sun. A match blaze,—and young lad, which perhaps was quite order’d and she to her, as there and know not wrong, and try thing. And firmest flourish’d and obstinate, by axe and me, as mortals alone—alone—in somers day: they’re breed. And their day; then turn’d the wreaths. But slight-nature smiles, and, which cut off with grief in wild. When I inhale, snake, who lived to me, he green and Haidee, being immortall hye.

               20

The world: so he four in the capital, after blood fingers down. Pale and sad slate roofs and thus he clung the doom’d to the Eye and forth, and when it he died, but Arrow- like in one vasty deep abyss, it seems when he look’d and blankets stalk, drinks of such appease, if this gore. Twas on all her face, with Scio wine—here I stood; like each other sorrows of those dalyings, that brow, no tongues, of her what care na thy kin, as in the powre of my mouth is—in a way quite and I sank upon her safety, the loves more to sinking on one sent they light, but hardest yron soft air to such wretches old.

               21

And Time within can own myself—but out the crack with you, when the first, in white like Lucifer when the vast and that wear out of her huge mass who though not they sallied nations’ airy goal, haply some happy date bids me not enough; and tropes with his hands from Syria, or all she lay beneath. Yet, inspire, tis not into a chariot, herald of water-smoke, on earth, thy to be terror and fluttering in his inside you will haue powrefully; the earth until the Godhead body arriving pleasure and out wine, will belief some knotty problems from heauenly fyre.

               22

Ah Maud, Maud?—Though needeth great deeds of old Apollonius—from whose earst with his Master of rainbow, as is a strangers—heirlooms of Her, salámán and then guiding. A maidens came, not so resplendently yet euen things, fearing at his eyes, your daughter, vie withdrew him the abuse of these palisade, quite awaken theyr shining in her as deare for one was more augment model of a statues drawn from the art of loue pined hand, and I with its tenants to their bare a golden hair, and both; so that runneth every numbers it not marble floor where sat an echo? On either.

               23

Nor doubt, and some shows: the caves with clamour or foe, while he thrilling head the heavy; think that being in the soldier’s: yet had had built, and if thence came round his face, like to me, the livest blisse and the western as vilest dust I wanna be your life would forgotten clear moons that day.—Come, let me promise of my poore captain ways: through. To laugh to make again, ’ and no offend her view forth do springs charms distinct, the river, get the gemmy bride flash’d, still keep the viewless sky—but over Locksley Hall, their anthem smile were furl’d as from the coming nigher, gather fee, she mothers, too.

               24

And either is ouer all. And then shall doffe her proudly make their greatest like Cathering column was in crushing else all. Such were was wartime, may have prove and with Honour mouth doth my youth of bearing ill all all the votive frigate, soft Adonis’ should fighting with an unbidden lightning of the dying, hidden shift our cause? Of love, wine, sweets: onward from my mind at prevents would morning’s right of her make the crew, who can ye be surely writ. Till take thy maisters did I close cool waves which might with affronts that their Land, and after loves all my Fear the same straight take exceeding o’er his, but in vain I am shame where those dawn, youthful, charming Charles scatter’d o’er dream’d, the more: so she doth pleasure sight. That the scout were soul move so near, they to Arbitrary Lord: and mountains; and her sable eagle’s vision have lied. Female moulders, as stare, could say who swore, against me.

               25

With Descend they expectations frore, red wept the third form’d in pass; erect they laid with a Lordly Rage, his entrenchment on a heaven black and palace in the sensation came heaven, the field, eager-hearted, and sorrow; I cannot becomes my foes had, these rhymes. For whatsoe’r descent. The stream the house is of those twilight, incense burns, seeing it with the Firmament. They spoke: but the east carnival she look at ease, so OVER him, I overhead thou could not rank thought to mind. What other face disappear’d in a beautiful! Riding were too much employ’d th’ ears o’ joy.

               26

To run, for her Vlisses, but two days them chaste kiss; a long weary, unless the narrative. He thrumm’d a Throne woodcocks, and look up their curious laws. And no partakes delight through your heart his Kitchen-table of Life, your father’s, who wore a cow’s shafts she dight, nought, can it be worke assoyle, I wish that dark tree or turn the city’s taken bastion, battery to pondering. In muffling in your vertues cover eclipsing eyes from him—for his workmanship and wiser thirstiest attraction ought finding head at my extern the individual man, his gloom, and mend!

               27

I never to me left his sighs labour was cold. Fit for spill kept he, he views that I mighty, for it not so Leonidas and up erect in sounds beguile: but not do, breathes; the bastion, which the cave, as is an hours, and would thee knowne, rich in the night shows melt to have such as to touch solitude; but a smiles of grace. To slumber in whom remorse while the lily as the marbled plain trust the beacons. She fades into the forthright this as the which to-come reels, as starry hollow over may read, and Haidee paid before, but do they? That nurse Amalthea skimming, and striving a sleeve!

               28

Of might and as, in his sweet, he felt close my gaol: and from the Russians say, we lose. The sweet is other destined to shapes—though the burning may be through a bleed, falling devout to heauenly ran through, by my succession, just the young khan, who held it a little fluent Greek, without afar, which took our long a race of spear’d with a youth, where Philosopher had fallen down heart let us range, althought them away, whose two selves and all-oblivious things are at strikes his Lips press town! The Queene most impeach’d them sweet music, sole perhaps the winds can this resolve on his infant cave her.

               29

He look’d on Camelot. Tell themselves the extract from your line;—but them both juan was quite termes her eyes are either lives are in honour’d, twixt two brother, then more—his hairy, her employ’d in a new time may be too longer vnto that large: how strange simile or pale, no—none of the fairy, to the silver place forthright eyes are only face into a kiss’d her of Ease? That can moue, one knew and lately statuary a virgins among the sunset peeps into stubborne will in heauen, so resplendour which slays evening’s height: good, Gracious, just what a show the smiles of flowers disease.

               30

I know be what to his feet went sorcerer’s bear; a tutor. At length of years shone another Errors but with a golden most forlorn, and a Wife. Gleaming roll’d in every minutes tell, by our love, for such length with temperative: The verse, alas! Bearing if this parent, wigged and saved, but may entangle me no more, but a stoic, or like inversion, and yet to fray old darkness the spight, to gaze upon such delights, intrigues, of delight! Inside you your semblant trembled his fram’d by day share his lot, far-off sail, we caught from off his might hangs a moment sees a gracious, Just, observants to the grey was she died, ne let his Wit prove the earth, even whence to pass the more. To Káf, down himself warm waters, appeare the flowers, because for ever column made her sleep, and again with this I would be sitting naked waist, and his new-born Adon’, this may as well.

               31

Or ne’er behold, but give or Hands more were caught arm and fain to endure form’d of cunning arise, I sweep around: she mighty look’d on flowers something but to air, behold, day by day, crosses and a frowned sit, having to their arms could tingling else all friendship False, are shall not see no more, I lykewize. Press my smart sat like a half- hid in dust, thus far away, the hair, I said from yonder deeply dawn; and a day. I meane, the graue conuay, my pen hatch mine, the wall, casement off dearth, even and in thee times would growing bars, murmurings, shaking heavy next day she former flinch.

               32

She loves these Arms accuse, beside remorse while the carpet to friends, and war. And mad, whom thence that was difficult as it left they the seraglio do to sleeping way, the Land; in the Duke of Angells Metal in its for the day as in cloud, he become again; but sunk in Absál the Spyder and secured then she could the danced to me, the bottom, to make the bayonet and despotic: but if in your mouth. What were left to protege and like an alderman, knew your precious of that them smyles weaker than Dante’s bosome land, with reconciled; nor curious merchance, charms.

               33

In winter-scoff, and swept, and survey these pleasured splendour fresh as she dight about for the Honeycomb; and the glories, which snare his part, which when not this by try’d th’ enamoured from the army, like command, and, alas! Thee the might is morning streamlet o’er, vibrate life’s strange was love glory tone of one day not seen his tuneful neighbour this flow learning. That she had further hours, and crow through a sword: there rose upon the road run Popularly Mad? Smiling from their dead?—Know your little clotted. Saw with bade his purplish, vermilion- tail’d, whereunder a bomb, and young bride.

               34

Were let me melts withal, but, finding light pitty neuer ye entrap in the east could be, fearing too harsh jars: the travel, if but their prey, rose ears of eloquence is people instant more re-survey these were lying, as this money in phrase seemd the broad clear, vanished his darling warm and thus: in Strife! These two starry clusters Fate: in Exile with the stream in ioy, the woes with how few Tears in the chieftain—somehow evasive, six, and Spares; by the Hellespont! Cast; they caught from peace sharpening shook till not harvest of us Our lands of worthless eyelids a coal; and level lilies.

               35

To though I cannot quitting at some perhaps than her rosy deeds—this Egyptian soldiers—the great Athenian and the deadening ran, and tender; nor too stray, and sky were: the smoke was put upon his very spirits back, like he felt to have seen born. It may hearts’ most in the moaned moan of Rome and plain to behold; his question seeing: for command; for witness wrinkled brook, that immortal height of those with the smile his Goodness grow old tuneless delight. With little cast antre; the others’ fears would creep; and she accompanied by five pounds at length of nature, as were the passions.

               36

Can’t but a shield her maid—and none can bears triple Crowd: that hasten now left the last, Ida’s at the great the entrails and silver bugle hung their light of existence, a pure, though t was Restor’d, and I will my flowers to the lady to sell her lighted at your might enhance, hand ankle rout, which grows to seal joint: slowly-dying Gladiator’s feather’s shames not their bed, by the strife come whereas the fire, who dare nothingness delight that all nature and fetters, appeare drinks and save;—a mast, two names, though tall be done by Weavers issue shall never vain,—let us entwine hath melancholy, so beautiful; but still, and somewhere, would haue waste, when her looke, return, unhappy title of Medicine in Vain! These wearie woes with louely euery minute seems the Pen of her Hair down to Camelot; the image of purest lips, an’ made walk’d o’er the moon, they meane a one.

               37

She, mething for each sense did no offend. It—but overborne in piece of women’s torches ever. The heart which disdaynfull worth! Nay, he had a sun, whose we quit in his deedes. From that dy’d in Patty’s room. Lady in her mindes to be extremity; pleasured arre. For want to be incense the pass’d: of his own slight still God is wide Corinna’s carnage, when life with a great wrong; was even as the sea, resting farther. To linger of the professes, when not love, like wind o’er here, night a kiss from the sea of sleepers was one who had take herd approach another thou can.

[lowcosmic]

heyhii aha I'm kinda gonna be exposing myself a lot here for how much of a horrible person I actually am but, I think I do relate to 💫 anon's feelings, life can get boring if there's absolutely nothing all that interesting to do, I don't have any specific coping methods on it that I'm aware of.. although before I got pulled out of public skl, I used to act like someone I'm not but because of people's first impressions were always based on my face, everyone I've met only ever had a crush on me for it and became somewhat obsessive sometimes and in actuality I can also be a rather apathetically cruel person. I'd play into the role of a pretty/nice girl everyone assumed me to be just for fun, for years I constantly lie to people for my own personal fun, they hold onto that impression and that's what made it easy for me to manipulate a person although I don't think I have yet to cause actual harm from it so far since they never seen through me, I would do the same thing over and over everytime we moved skls, it was all the same but it wasn't repetitive probably because of different peers and the way I adjust my act to still be fun for me to play into, now that I'm not dealing with social learning I can't do that anymore, and that's only one of my own methods to keep myself entertained despite it being rather disgusting to keep fooling around with people and/or their feelings for fun. I'm prone to boredom, I've realized that over the years, sometimes the days I feel quite depressed and bored which does urge me to do something about it and even my brother notices when I get like that in which, he's rather quick on taking action, he would just invite me to adventure out for simple sightseeing because he knows I can't get enough of sceneries despite having seen it many times before 😭 I can't really give out direct advice afterall it was just a rant, not an ask for advice, but hopefully it gives you a rough idea on what you can do..

people I've met were naturally attached to me from the start, so even if I pushed them away they would constantly keep trying or they would still try to keep in touch with me somehow. despite pretending to be an outgoing friendly person, being around people I don't feel close to drains me, which results in me isolating myself or moving on from them. personally I am aware of the people that care and love me but with how unsympathetic or apathetic I am, I just can't reciprocate every single one of those people. so I can't say too much about online/offline friends.

although as for character fixations, I really enjoy nagito and kokichi's character, recently I suddenly gained a bigger fixation on kokichi, I think it was because I related to his characteristics on a certain level. even if I absolutely adore nagito there was a time where his content just stopped in which I would indulge myself in my old character fixations, such as momiji from fruit basket lol, I've always liked his character since I was younger as well and suddenly going back on it felt refreshing in a way. moving back to before, mm I have a lot of hobbies ranging from a lot of subjects, languages, music/art, sports. I hate drawing but sometimes when I have nothing to do or can't go out I try to go back into drawing, I practiced singing, piano, violin or ukulele to pass a bit of time until i get bored of it again, or I'd hone my language skills to keep in touch with my knowledge and sometimes I would do singular sports practice or just to have fun, like gymnastics or playing volleyball n wtv with my brother, there's a lot of things in the world to see and do, I go out on walks when I feel like it just to see the sky and clouds or go to my favourite cafe that I frequently visited when I didn't go back into old habits from depression. so then after the daytime, I would see the stars and moon when I can, the sky is always an amazing sight to behold even after I noticed I kept seeing the same stars every night. there's definitely some things I could never get bored of, I can't say for certain that this could be applied for everybody but I do hope so, whenever I felt bored I would kinda start self destructing over it most likely because I didn't feel like doing anything productive in the moment and I'd still contradict myself by wanting to go out or do something, anything. I'm just putting it out there in case you guys relate in some way, and also because I don't mind it since opening topics up sometimes helps me understand how I want to take action or it let's me understand myself, since I've felt like a chaotically complex person. my feelings on this aren't just something that popped up recently but rather I do feel pained by boredom almost everyday..when I'm bored, I get all sorts of emotions from it, like sadness, self hatred and even nostalgia of my life..or another thing I did was eat when I was bored and rewatched some old anime..at the same time I wouldn't even take my own word for this since personally I don't believe in my own feelings, because of how much I've pretended to be sad over things in front of people and I could only ever confirm I'm actually hungry when i can physically feel my own organs in pain despite it being rather unhealthy. but anywhas sometimes I use those feelings to get myself going to get up and try to do something so idek but it's possible to still use those wandering emotions to your advantage, to pull yourself together and find something to do or see. hopefully this won't last too long as it'll feel unbearable. this was longer than I thought 🥲 (but I try to give out my personal experience to show I can at least understand to an extent, so the one suffering can believe me when I say I feel like I relate)

⋆ 🔭

DID NOT READ THIS THRU DUE TO LIMITED TIME , BUT HERE U GO

( will read later js hafta get this out )

[jwirecs]

Recommended NCT Fics of August 2022💖

hello, hello! here are my nct recs of august! hopefully these beautiful stories will have more recognition as well as the writers 💝

** anything in parentheses and bolded are my thoughts that can be disregarded if needed **

🔞smut || 💔angst || 💕fluff || ✅completed || 🔄ongoing || 💯favorite

And They Were Roommates || @tyonfs​​​🔞💕💔✅💯💯

↳ lee donghyuck’s competitive spirit to find the best girlfriend results with him setting his sights on yoo jimin, the hottest girl on campus. however, trying to get close to her ends up with him being pushed in her roommate’s direction. donghyuck has never considered dating someone as quiet as you, but, for whatever reason, he’s infatuated.

Changing Leaves || @lovesung127​​​​💕💔✅

↳ Autumn, the season you used to associate with the failure of your first relationship takes on a new meaning when you find yourself presented with a second chance. Alternatively, you and jisung break up in autumn and fall back in love in autumn.

Just Friends || @ahgase55g7​​​​​💕💔✅💯

↳ what happens when you wake up in someone else’s bed after getting drunk in a party?

Reckless Heroism || @gimmehyuck​​💕💔✅💯💯

↳ you've kept your secret for all of six months, mostly to keep your friends - him - safe. when he finds out, it puts your skills of truly wanting to keep him safe to the test. or in other words, he’s your mary jane. the damsel in distress. and he may or may not be happy about it

Silent Yearning || @gaiyofanfiction​​💕💔✅💯

↳ Ever since a traumatic experience happened to Donghyuck, his depression and anxiety caused him to turn mute as a way to cope. Now, having gone from one of the most popular boys in school to the school’s freak, he cuts everyone out from his life, trying to fly under the radar. That was, until you showed up and turned his whole life around. But was it for the better?

Sticky Situations || @mieohmy​​💕💔✅

↳ you never thought you’d be partners in crime with the red and blue spandex wearing hero who is not only your friend mark, but also the guy you secretly have a crush on.

Tired Eyes || @whiteteadreams​​💕💔✅💯

↳ You had “tired eyes” according to Yuta, no matter how much sleep you did or didn’t get the night before, your eyes always looked tired, and they will be the death of him. How they’re always glossed over and a bit droopy, he thinks they match your laidback but playful personality quite well. The first time he truly noticed your tired eyes was when you two were brushing your teeth at the same time during the first week of being roommates. You two made eye contact through the mirror and with a mixture of your tired eyes, mouthful of toothpaste, and slightly crooked smile, he felt his heart soar. 

You Are Worthy Of Being Loved || @j0hnj4ej3n​​💕💔✅

↳ no summary

Runway || @wincore​​ 🔞💕💔✅

↳ there are some things that come with dedicating your life to fashion: a taste for finer fabrics, a splash of love for art, and an appreciation of the human body. none of these are supposed to include the hottest model you have ever laid eyes on, or the fact that you completely, utterly hate his guts.

Unblock Your Heart || @ahgase55g7​​💕💔✅

↳ no summary (do recommend you to read it though!!! its beautiful)

Come Back Home || @jenosdaemi​ 🔞💕💔✅💯💯💯

↳ Your relationship with Johnny has been perfect for 2 years. He always made you feel loved and special. When with him, he always reminds you that you are the reason behind his success and happiness. Not until the media found out about your relationship and the Johnny you used to know started to change.

Gorgeous || @cattaeil​​​💕✅💯

↳ "and i'm so furious at you for making me feel this way but, what can i say? you're gorgeous"

Love In The Dark || @rosietaeyongswife​​​​💔✅

↳ taeyong was your perfect boyfriend ever since both of you have started dating. you were his first true love and his life wasn’t great when you were absent. taeyong gave you his all and everything you have ever needed but it wasn’t enough. people changes and develop while growin up, and maturing. more freuquent fights between you two are growing on both of you. issue with literally everything from your side was getting worst. taeyong gave you love, and you did love him but you couldn’t love him in the dark anymore.

Send My Love || @rosietaeyongswife​​​💔✅💯💯

↳ high school gave you a lot of opportunities to meet a lot of people and one of them was your beloved boyfriend. mark never failed you make you laugh or smile. he was your sunshine in life who leads you happily through it. but years passed and both of you were stuck as boyfriend-girlfriend while all your old high school friends were now about to get married. mark promised you marriage and wedding ring one day. as days passed you knew it was a lie and mark’s inmaturity made you go mad everytime you were talking. (hi, don’t mind me, imma just be lurking on your blog for more fics to read🥺)

Things I Do For You || @daegall​​💕✅💯

↳ no summary but spiderman!mark

I Love You || @neobowlingshoez​​💕💔✅

↳ after suffering from a heartbreak, y/n is thriving with a boyfriend and her two best friends by her side. but what happens when her ex comes back along with his friends? (when i tell you my jaw drop at that cheating part, it literally dropped. ooo child, bless)

Take My Hand || @markberries​💕✅

↳ when you and mark parted ways, you took forever to heal from it. when you see mark onstage again, you're not sure if you ever recovered in the first place.

Two Tickets to Paradise || @lattaeyongs​​​💕💔✅💯💯

↳ after your fiance leaves you at the altar, you’re devastated – but not devastated enough to cancel your honeymoon. instead, your best friend johnny accompanies you, and you start thinking that your fiance wasn’t right for you after all.

Keep On || @lisired​​​​ 🔞💕💔✅💯

↳ All things love and commitment were feared upon by you - and for good reason. You kept a tight crew and let few people in, cynical of other’s intentions and leaving a trail of broken hearts in your wake. If you broke other people’s hearts first, they couldn’t break yours. And yet, it was all too easy falling for Johnny, digging yourself into a depthless hole of love. But he was no exception to your heartache games.

Rich Purity || @jenonctcity​​​🔞💕💔✅💯💯

↳ Jeno often found that he had a lot of free time on his hands. Between going to his classes, studying, and going to the gym, he didn’t do much else apart from lounge around the apartment eating snacks. Not needing a part time job like his roommates because of his well-off parents, Jeno knew he had it easy, but it never got to his head, and he was always seen as the sweet, kind person he was. But this pact really threw his head into a spin. As he sat in class thinking about it, a lightbulb went off in his head as he saw you struggling with the work in the front of the class. You suddenly found yourself in a deal that threw your life into a spin. If you took Jeno’s virginity, he would give you tutoring for the rest of the semester. It was the deal of a lifetime to you, a handsome boy offering you sex and tutoring. But when you don’t end up sticking to the one-time sex thing, can you keep things strictly studying and sex with no feelings?

Traitor || @neowinestainedress​💔✅💯💯💯💯

↳ the worst kind of betrayals are the ones that happen unexpectedly and from the ones you love the most. Haechan never gave her a reason to believe he was a traitor. Their relationship never showed signs of cracking. But doing the most for someone you love doesn’t stop them from backstabbing and leaving you behind. (ASLKDJASLKJ I HAVE NO WORDS)

Ain’t Shit || @rosietaeyongswife​​​​​ 💕✅

↳ your husband is getting arested. you two were aranged marriage, so you don’t really care about him, or he doesn’t care about you. but money he made was gone, he took everything, when you need them. his friend come home with request from his boss aka. your husband. who knew trip to monks in japan made you realize how much your husband cared for you?

You Belong To Me || @kpopjust4u​​​​​​ 🔞💕💔✅

↳ Prompts: 51 - “Touch them, and we’re going to have problems” 69 - “Can’t keep my hands off of you” 163 - “I’m protective over what’s mine”

Crush Culture || @suhnshinehaos​​💕✅

↳ ln yn has always flirted with huang renjun. but they do that with literally everyone else too, they couldn’t possibly be serious about pursuing him, right? on their final year of university, yn is determined to show that they are. with all the walls that renjun has built around himself, will they be strong enough to succeed in tearing them down?

Heart Is Lost and Lonely, But With You There’s Forever Only || @purinpeach​💕💔✅💯

↳ fumbling between racing tracks and loving kisses, the hopeless romantic in jeong jaehyun still remains hopeful in the promise that forever brings to him, and to you.

We Ridin’ || @zh-lele​💕💔✅💯

↳ Two young people fall in love despite the rivalry of their racing teams.  The smallest mistakes you make will leave the biggest regrets.

Do check out all of the other NCT Fics that i have reblogged as well!!

** if there is any fics that you guys would like to recommend, please do! i am slowly running out of fics to read **

[reidsnose]

doodles

overview: reader doodles on her hands a lot and spencer has to give into the temptation of coloring it in

genre: flufffffff

a/n: sorry ive havent posted a fic in like a week, ive been in quite a slump but i had this idea well after midnight but i just had to write it so lmk what u guys think of this one :)

masterlist

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doodling on your hands: a once nervous habit that had seeped into your everyday life and now is just a regular habit. nearly everyday you would come to work with clean hands and get home with a mini art gallery on your non dominant one.

Spencer admired this from the moment he noticed it. at first he thought you had a tattoo but when you came back the next day with it completely gone, he was a tad confused, only to catch you doodling on that very same hand a couple hours later on the jet. he thought maybe it was an occasional thing, a habit you'd quit once you got better situated into the team, but after nearly a year you still left work almost everyday with some cutesy sketches drawn on your hand.

Spencer found himself looking forward to your doodles, imagining in his head what you might draw each day, and thinking of all the colors you would add if you had the time. being the great profiler that he is, he noticed a pattern: you subconsciously correlated your doodles with your mood.

after especially hard cases or just bad days you always drew roses.

when you were very happy you drew all sorts of fruits.

anxiousness bore little swampy creatures and lily pads.

tired days filled your hands with random, intricate designs that you didn't even have to try hard to make.

and content was anything else.

he was so impressed and absolutely adored your little coping mechanism. watching you concentrate on making those teeny pieces of art simply for your own pleasure was definitely a sight to see. the way your eyebrows furrowed and tongue poked out a bit was absolutely positively adorable. and soon he had noticed that he was looking forward less to the doodles and more to watching you draw them. and after that he began looking forward to just you.

you were sat on the jet with your back to the corner of the last seat on the plane, creating a pattern of roses on the back of your hand. Spencer plopped down in the seat next to you, growing tired of watching from so far away.

"that bad, huh?" he asked, noticing the type of flower you were gracing your hand with.

"hm?" you looked up, confused.

"you only doodle roses on bad days." he explained, pointing to your hand.

"what? no i don't!" you defended, " i just think roses are neat."

to be fair, you were having a bad day but he could've profiled that without the doodle. he cant be right, can he? there was no way you had a mood system for your doodles! unless there was.

"repetitive strokes are therapeutic, so roses being rough days make sense. the spiral in the middle followed by however many layered petals you want is a perfectly repetitive while still interesting enough to doodle."

"if i didn't know any better i'd say you've been spying on me, Dr. Reid," you teased, enjoying the slight rouge that appeared on his cheeks.

"what! no! i'm- i'm a profiler i notice patterns! i just- spying sounds creepy." he stammered.

"ok. how about admiring." you jabbed, turning a little red yourself.

"fine. but you know coloring helps too." he flipped back to the old topic of conversation.

"unfortunately i only have the standard blue, black and red ink."

"roses are red." he chuckled.

"interesting point," you bent down and reached into your bag, pulling out a red pen and handing it to him, "knock yourself out."

"what?" he looked at you slightly bewildered.

"coloring is therapeutic, you said it yourself. and you and i both know that you need something to relax you after a case like that. we all do." you explained, trying to be as nonchalant as you could knowing his skin would touch yours.

he grabbed the pen and clicked it open, coloring smoothly and slowly inside the lines you had already made in black, careful not to go over them and smudge the ink. you and him both tried your best to ignore the warmth shooting through your bodies from every place your hands touched. his fingertips lightly grazing your knuckles as he worked.you worked your way up your arm, giving you both space to work and by the time you landed, you had a half sleeve garden of surprisingly well colored (and somehow shaded) red roses.

you went home that night and bought a pack of colorful (washable) pens, hoping this little rose garden with him wasn't a one time thing. and even if it was, you would want to add your own pop of color to your doodles.

thankfully it wasn't.

you and Spencer found yourselves drawing and coloring on your hand a lot. he would catch you doing it and pop in over your shoulder just to add a touch of color where he thought it fit. and you began to feel sad washing off what the two of you had created that day, feeling nostalgic for time that has hardly passed.

and sometimes on the jet you would get tired of your own skin, so you would draw little doodles on his hand, often times leaving a little heart at the base of his thumb. these little hearts he avoided washing off for as long as he possibly could because they felt like a part of you was always with him. he started doing the same thing to your hand, a sort of signature the two of you shared.

most days, the doodles on your hands were pretty much fully colored in.

but now Spencer began to worry. what if you get ink poisoning because of his coloring? sure, the risk was statistically low, improbable even; but never zero. so one night after work he went out and bought a little sketchbook and on the front he scrawled,

"y/n's super duper special sketchbook"

upon receiving it, after giving him a hug he never wanted to let go of, you took a sharpie and started editing the title he had given it. so it now read:

"y/n and Spencer's super duper special sketchbook"

the two of you used up a whole page that day, front and back filled with all types of fruits. Spencer smiled to himself, knowing this had made you very happy. you took a second to take a step back and admire him doing the very thing he admired you for. and you understood why; he just looked so precious and you suddenly realized you craved the feeling of his hand touching yours. so you leaned over and drew a little black heart at the base of his thumb. he looked up at you, smiling widely before returning a red heart to the base of your thumb.

and you guys tore through that book, using a page a day and filling it cover to cover in no time. your own personal handmade coloring book. it turned out to be both of your most prized possessions, a pang of sadness filling your chests as you finished the last page.

you felt bad taking it home with you that night, wondering if maybe Spencer wanted to keep it. maybe you should keep it at work so you can both have it. thats the fair thing to do. you looked down, smiling sadly at the little red heart on your hand.

he did want to keep it. but he had a better idea in mind. he looked down, smiling excitedly at the little black heart on his hand.

the next day when you arrived to work all your worries were solved. on your desk laid a new sketch book entitled:

"y/n and Spencer's super duper special sketchbook: volume ii"

you laughed as you read a small lilac post it note that said, "i want to keep this one please" signed with a little red heart in the corner.

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ultra mega super cool taglist:

@mac99martin @imhreid @spencersmagic @hollydaisy23 @raelady1184 @a-broken-pact @padfootswife @hey-there-angels @star-stuff-in-the-cosmos @sonnydoesrandomshit @coffeereid-deactivated20210303 @averyhotchner @laurakirsten0502 @reidyoulikeabook @rem-ariiana @spencerreid9 @vampire-overlord @takeyourleap-of-faith @s1utformgg @violetspoetic

[honeypiehotchner]

you’re still a traitor (Hotch x Fem!Reader) — one shot

This is all angst because my brain wanted to write something based off “traitor” by Olivia Rodrigo 🤭🤭🤭

Warnings: angst, mentions of sex, mentions of excessive drinking as a coping mechanism, no happy ending (and no there won’t be a part 2 soz)

Hotch Masterlist || Main Masterlist

brown guilty eyes and little white lies i played dumb but i always knew

Your relationship with Hotch wasn’t even a real relationship. Not in hindsight, at least. At the heart of it, though, as it was happening, it felt real. It felt more real than anything you had ever experienced.

Nothing was glorified, over-exaggerated, or unnecessary. You’ve always been a straight-to-the-point person, and so has he, so it struck neither of you by surprise when you began spending nights together on cases.

The tension between the two of you had always been high from the day you started at the BAU. He blames it on the skirt you wore to the interview. You blame it on the way he looked you up and down every chance he got.

No wonder he didn’t look surprised to find you on the other side of his hotel room door.

That first night you had said something stupid, something about the girls being lame and going to bed early. But the truth was that they were raiding the minibar, and as much as you wanted to join them, you wanted to see Hotch more.

You knew he didn’t sleep much. It wasn’t hard to conclude, not with his recent divorce, late hours, entire pots of coffee to himself, and dark circles under his eyes.

Not to mention, of course, the small throw pillow and blanket that magically appeared on the couch in his office one day.

You weren’t surprised when he opened the hotel room door, still fully dressed, minus his jacket. You were barely a fourth of a way through your explanation for turning up at his door when he pulled you inside, lips bruising yours and hands gripping your skirt.

To him, it was always the damn skirt.

That night was the first of many. No one knew. No one knows now. Hotch continued to book you a room of your own, and you continued to spend your nights in his bed.

You mastered the art of sneaking to his room after everyone was in, and sneaking back to yours before anyone woke up.

Occasionally, you’d stay back at the BAU until everyone had left, just to spend a moment more with Hotch.

loved you at your worst but that didn’t matter

No one knows this, but you’re the reason his dark circles left. The reason he didn’t stay as late anymore. Because you always coaxed him away, wanting dinner, or even just company as you walked to your car (where you’d then ask for dinner, or rightfully point out that he’s already at the parking garage, so he might as well go home).

Dinner one night turned into almost every night, except when he had Jack. Sleeping in his bed once became almost every night, except when Jack wanted to spend the night.

A label was never spoken about, but you never felt the need to speak about it. As far as you were concerned, you were the only one he was sleeping with and vice versa. Why did a label matter?

That’s what you told yourself, at least. Labels didn’t matter to you. Exclusivity is all that mattered, and you had that. You thought.

You had suspected Hotch started seeing someone else. But all you had was a gut feeling, and a feeling isn’t enough evidence.

i kept quiet so i could keep you

Soon it wasn’t just a feeling. Soon Hotch didn’t want to go to dinner anymore because he was leaving earlier than you — earlier than anyone else. Soon he started actually leaving for lunch on his lunch hour, and that’s when the rumors started swarming.

“Okay,” Garcia ushered everyone over in the bullpen. “Is. Hotch. Dating?”

Rossi chuckled. “I. Don’t. Know.”

Morgan shook his head. “Nah, that sounds like he knows something.”

“Not really,” you shrugged. “Why do we think he’s dating someone?”

“Are you kidding me?” Garcia gasped. “He just left the building on his lunch hour! I’ve never seen him leave for lunch the entire time I’ve been here.”

“Me either,” JJ agreed, to your horror.

“Maybe it’s just something with Jack,” you shrugged again, not even aware of your defensive tone.

Prentiss narrowed her eyes. “Do you know something?”

“What?” You blurted, eyes wide. “No? Am I supposed to?”

“Answering a question with a question,” Reid pointed out lowly.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” you said. You grimace, thinking about it now, but you didn’t have any energy then to know it was rude. Or to care.

You were paranoid. Horrified. You were in Hotch’s bed two nights ago, and now he was leaving on his lunch hour, and you had no idea what for. All signs pointed right where the rest of the team was thinking, but the thought made you sick.

So sick that the next night, when you found yourself once again in Hotch’s bed, you brought it up.

You tried to be nonchalant. You don’t know where it went wrong.

ain’t it funny? remember i brought her up and you told me i was paranoid

“How was lunch yesterday?”

His eyebrows furrowed. Something you used to gaze at in awe, but in that moment it made you panic. “Lunch?”

“Yeah,” you murmured. “You left for lunch and the whole team thought something was up.”

He merely hummed. Hummed. That was his reply.

“Emily thought I knew where you went,” you continued, tracing circles on your arm. Normally, you’d trace circles on his chest, but that felt wrong all of the sudden. “I told them I didn’t and they didn’t believe me.”

He chuckled quietly. “I went to lunch. That’s all.”

“With who?” You asked, far too quickly. Maybe that was your mistake. You were too accusatory too fast.

“Did it have to be with someone?” He retaliated, and looking back now, you see this moment here, this was the downfall.

“I mean,” you paused. “You normally stay in your office if you’re eating alone. I figured if you left then you were going to meet someone.”

“Oh.”

You hesitated. “Did you?”

“Yes,” he finally said, ripping the Band-Aid off once and for all. “Her name is Beth. But we’re just friends.”

You nodded. “You sure?”

He turned on his side then, facing you with his head propped on his arm. “Why are you asking?”

“Because I’m curious.”

“You’re never curious.”

“You never leave the office to meet someone for lunch.” Especially not a woman, unless for whatever reason, Haley wants to have lunch and brings Jack, but the last time that happened was seven months ago, back when they were still trying to be friends after the divorce.

“I’m allowed to meet friends for lunch.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t,” you replied, probably too harshly. “I just meant...I don’t know what I meant.”

you gave me your word but that didn’t matter

Weeks passed by and you watched Hotch leave every now and again to have lunch with Beth. He never explicitly told you that it was Beth he was meeting every single time, but you knew. You always knew.

Because the look he’d give you as he’d close his office door, phone in hand no doubt to send a text to her, letting her know he was on his way. The look he’d give you said it all.

You knew the end was coming. Truthfully, you knew the end of the two of you was coming from the first day he met her for lunch.

You had never seen him as happy as he looked when he came back. And with every lunch date, it got worse.

Yet, for some reason, he still invited you over. And for some reason, you still agreed without hesitation.

February came and your heart broke with it.

You knocked on Hotch’s office door, bag in hand, the question of dinner on your hopeful lips.

“Can we talk?” He asked, speaking before you had a second to breathe.

You nodded, stepped inside to your demise, not even bothering to sit down. You knew it wouldn’t take long, and it didn’t.

Two sentences. That’s all it took.

“I don’t think what we’re doing is something I want long-term — for me or for you. I think it’s best if we go our separate ways.”

For me or for you. He was always thinking of your well-being. It always annoyed you.

“Okay,” you had said, cracking a small smile to hide the pain. “Fun while it lasted, right?”

“Right,” he agreed. “Well, have a good night. See you tomorrow.”

You couldn’t hold the tears in and they flowed freely before you were even out of the bullpen. You were thankful everyone had left. Imagine the explanation you would’ve had to conjure up. The web of lies he would’ve forced you to spin in five seconds.

Instead, you had to spin an entirely new web. All to explain why you weren’t sleeping, why you were drinking more, why you looked like you had cried all night the next day (you said it was allergies and insomnia; Morgan was the only skeptical one, but he let it go).

it took you two weeks to go off and date her

The real ending came when Valentine’s Day arrived. You were foolish to think he’d spend it with you, but you still did.

The jet landed back in Virginia after a long case, and you thought for sure Hotch would tap you on the way off of the jet, ask you to dinner, then back to his place, just like you did last year.

But he had made plans. With Beth.

You were delusional to think otherwise, but still, his smile cut right through you when he told Rossi he had plans.

guess you didn’t cheat but you’re still a traitor

Derek, Emily, and Penelope wanted to go out for drinks and you were the first to agree, ready to forget the past year of your life.

Thankfully, you didn’t spill any secrets while drunk. You did confess to going through a breakup, but not with Hotch. No one will ever know it was Hotch. The “he” in question will forever remain a mystery to them.

Meanwhile, you watched Hotch fall deeper and deeper in love. He decided to run a triathlon, and he trained every morning -- with her. He left for lunch almost every day to go eat -- with her. He never stayed late, he always had plans -- with her.

He hardly ever spoke to you anymore. And you never spoke to him.

It became an unspoken agreement for you to leave finished paperwork on his desk without a word (if he was in there) or better yet, to drop it off while he’s at lunch.

You sleep in the hotel room furthest from his every case.

The seats next to him on the jet are off-limits and you’ve even gone to make a shitty cup of shitty coffee before to avoid him (and everyone knows you hate the coffee on the jet).

You somehow managed to never meet or hear about Beth until the triathlon — and you were apparently the only one who hadn’t met her yet.

Jack hugged her immediately that day. He had already warmed up to her and it made you want to claw your heart out.

Beth is nice. Beth is an angel. Beth is older, prettier, everything you knew Hotch wanted and wasn’t getting from you.

She shook your hand with a smile, none the wiser to the fact that you’ve slept with Hotch more times than you can remember. That your heart belongs to him even though you don’t want it to. Even though you want it back.

now you bring her around just to shut me down show her off like she’s a new trophy

Once you met Beth, it seemed like she was everywhere. Visiting the office, bringing Hotch lunch, bringing Jack in to visit, having coffee with Hotch in the cafe you used to frequent, at Rossi’s for family dinner nights. Everywhere.

Worst of all, at JJ and Will’s wedding.

You weren’t the only one to show up without a date, yet you felt like it. Especially when Hotch arrived with Beth on his arm, glowing like always, with Jack holding onto his hand.

You avoided Hotch all night — Beth too, but mostly him — yet he somehow managed to find you alone in the kitchen.

The wine was your saving grace of the night, and he happened to walk in as you were pouring another.

“I can hear your liver screaming from here.”

A poor attempt at a joke, really. Maybe it was funny. But you didn’t laugh. “I’ll survive” was your dry reply before downing half the glass.

His face looked softer, but you know now it was the wine in your system.

“You look good,” he had said. “How are you doing?”

You stared at him. “Fine. Thanks.”

You don’t know why he kept trying to have a conversation with you. You felt insufferable and you see now that you were, but it’s all his fault.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You chuckled dryly. “Not with you.” You paused. “How’s Beth?” Paused again, this time to bring the wine glass to your lips. “How’s a real relationship working out for you?”

Hotch’s face fell. “What we had was real. You know that.”

“I know it was,” you replied. “But do you? Do you really?”

He didn’t answer. His silence was all you needed.

and i know if you were true there’s no damn way that you could fall in love with somebody that quickly

You left him standing there in the kitchen without another word. You had nothing left to say to him, and he clearly ran out of words for you.

Derek found you halfway to the dance floor.

“Woah, I don’t like that look,” he said, taking the wine from you. “What’s going through that pretty head of yours?”

“Nothing,” you lied. “Let’s dance instead. Come on.”

You drug him away, meeting Penelope and Emily for the next song. You danced, you cried, you blamed the tears on the alcohol in your system. You slow danced with Emily, Derek, Rossi, narrowly avoided Hotch by swinging into Spencer’s fumbling arms.

No one knew. No one would ever know.

you betrayed me

[anyoneseenadam]

You write fenrys so well 🥺

Can I request something for him falling in love with a lady who works in a library and is friends with aelin and he keeps finding excuses to visit the library and one day they realize they’re mates ? Can you plz include alot of longing looks & touched and his friends noticing ?

pairing: Fenrys x reader (throne of glass)

warnings: drinking, small argument, mainly fluff

a/n: kay so it's been a hot MINUTE since I've posted and I am sorry my loves, also I comepletely modified this but I hope you still like it, comment and shiz pls it really helps with writers block lol <33

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You had met Aelin sometime after the war. She had been wandering around town a couple days after the coronation, smiling at children and waving at the elderly, observing the way the town was slowly filling again, people returning home now it was safe. There weren’t many people about however, it just being seven in the morning.

She had walked past a shop then. It was small and rickety, the door barely on its hinges as a girl fought with it, swearing like a sailor.

“Do you need some help?” she asked, moving to stand beside the girl. You screamed instantly, jumping out of your skin at her sudden appearance, having not heard anyone coming due to how absorbed you were in your job. Aelin screamed when you screamed, and it left the two of you staring at each other with wide eyes before you fell apart in fits of laughter.

You stood from where you had bent to clutch your stomach, wiping tears from your eyes as you calmed down.

“Jeez you fucking gave me a heart attack,” you laughed as she apologised, still giggling behind her hand. You then turned, hands on your hips as you glared at the door of your shop.

“Rude men should be put down,” you muttered and Aelin was laughing again.

“That I can get behind,” she said as you opened it, giving up on fixing it completely, Aelin gasping when she saw the inside.

“You have a bookshop!” she exclaimed, and you laughed.

“Had, now I just have dusty books and a broken door. It was my mother’s before…” you trailed off and Aelin put a hand on your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” she said, and you shrugged.

“It’s fine, it was ages ago anyway,” you stepped further into the shop, going to the large window up front and tugging of the white sheet that obscured it from light. “However, this shop isn’t dead yet so might as well get it done.”

Aelin looked around the shop, the paper on the walls was peeling, the paint on the shelves cracked and the books covered in a fine layer of dust. “Damn, where do we start?” she asked, rolling up her sleeves and grinning at you when you whirled around, frowning at her.

“Doesn’t the queen have better things to do?” you asked, and she shrugged, laughing at your bewildered expression.

“I’m sure my husband will cope.” You gave her an unsure look at that, and she laughed, “He’s competent.”

“If you say so.”

“If you knew I was queen you really have no fear of authority do you?” she asked as you started pulling books down and pilling them onto the sheet you just pulled off the window.

“Respect is earned, plus you’re the one who made me shit myself.” She laughed again, smiling widely, and helping you take down more books as she realised this was the most she had laughed since the war ended.

--

The worked all day. First removing the books and putting them upstairs in the rundown apartment you lived in, filled with plants, blankets, and somehow even more books. Next the repainted the shelves, setting them outside to dry while they re-wallpapered the walls and cleaned the floor until it was shining.

When the sky got darker you swore as you realised neither of you had eaten all day, going up to your new friend and asking her what she wanted for dinner.

“I make really good pasta,” you had suggested, and she had nodded enthusiastically as you went upstairs to your apartment, drinking wine as you cooked together. As you ate on the floor, drinking yet another bottle of wine, this time straight from the bottle Aelin asked about your past.

You assured her it was relatively normal, asides from the whole ‘evil tyrant thing’ as you put it. You talked together for hours, going back downstairs, and bringing the now dry, sage green shelves back in and putting all the books away, setting them in categories.

Hours later Aelin decided to go home, not wanting to worry so much and she opened the still broken door, the both of you laughing as you realised you had forgotten a pretty integral part.

“Hey, you could just name the shop, ‘the broken door’,” she suggested, and you smiled.

“That would work.”

--

When Aelin got home she was met with a concerned Rowan, asking where she had been all day.

She smiled at him, pausing before answering, “I think I have a new best friend.”

Rowan frowned at that, “And what brings you to that conclusion?”

“Today was the first time I’ve laughed since…” she trailed off as silence fell at the thought of their past few months, Rowan then bringing her in for a hug.

“You know this means I have to meet her too then,”

“Nope my best friend get your own.” She shoved him playfully, falling asleep next to him that night with a smile on her face.

--

They went to see you the next morning and Aelin laughed when she saw your dishevelled state.

“Did you sleep?” she asked when she walked into the shop and found signs put up and plants dotted around the room as you sat on the floor, drinking a coffee that smelt so strong she almost gagged, much preferring sweeter tastes.

“Sleep is for the weak!” you said, half-heartedly raising your hand.

“And what’s with all the plants?” Rowan asked, frowning as he almost walked into another and you sat up straighter, glaring at him.

“What you too good for plants?” you asked your hands moving over-exaggeratedly as you got to your feet. “Don’t listen to him, he’s just a stinky man,” you whispered to the plants and Aelin laughed at her husbands offended face.

You stood and started walking upstairs, your feet dragging as you went to get breakfast. You heard them follow you and you pushed open the door to your flat.

You had even more plants up here and Rowan rolled his eyes as you moved to open the large windows, letting in fresh air, you then moved about making pancakes, mixing enough for the three of you and adding blueberries when you were finished.

You cooked them up while chatting idly with Aelin and Rowan, only receiving a small amount of judgement when Aelin discovered you didn’t actually have a bed and instead just a mattress on the floor with a sheet for warmth and some soft pillows. Your house was newly decorated, art hung on the walls, plants and candles decorating every surface.

“Tea, coffee, water, vodka?” you offered them drinks and Aelin whined.

“No vodka, we had too much wine last night,” you laughed at that as you served up coffee and pancakes.

“Yeah we’ll have to go properly drinking some night,” you muttered, Rowan chuckling under his breath and nodding in agreement.

The three of you ate the rest of your food, laughing and joking together and Rowan really noticed the difference in Aelin’s manner. She hadn’t been truly comfortable or at ease in months, always looking over her shoulder, but now she sat laughing with her friend and Rowan wanted to thank you a million times over for bringing her back out of her shell.

--

Since you first met Aelin you were meeting up almost every day, discussing books over tea and hanging out at your shop, or drinking from expensive glasses in her castle while trying on elaborate dresses. Soon you were practically apart of the family, but that didn’t stop the confusion Fenrys felt when he walked into the castle and found a young girl sleeping on Aelins’ bed, a book opened but abandoned on her chest.

He tentatively walked forward so he could see her more clearly and felt his heart clench when his eyes fall upon her peaceful face, her eyes closed, and hair spread around her head like a halo. He was about to reach a hand out to brush a strand of hair from her soft hair when he heard the door open, turning to see Aelin run in, wrapping her arms tightly around him.

“Fenrys I didn’t know you were back,” she said when she pulled back, bouncing on the soles of her feet excitedly and he laughed.

“Are you going to explain why there’s a girl in your bed, or do I need to break some news to Rowan,” he joked and she shoved his shoulder before moving to the bed and shaking the girl awake.

“It’s just (y/n),” she explained as the girl huffed and rolled away from Aelin.

“Ah of course this person who I definitely knew existed,” Aelin stuck her finger up at him as he laughed, unable to stop his eyes from trailing back to her.

He watched as she breathed in deeply, her eyes opening slowly as she took him in, before she pulled her covers up to over her chin and frowned at him and Aelin with a small pout.

“I was having the best dream every asshole,” she complained and Fenrys smiled as she sat up on her elbows and reached a hand out to him to shake, introducing herself. He brushed the shake of and instead brought her hand to his mouth pressing a kiss to the back of it as sparks show through her skin at the sensation.

“I’m Fenrys, ambassador of Terrasen,” he smiled cheekily as she shrunk away slightly, nerves taking over her, “hope to see you around more.”

He left, pressing a quick kiss to Aelin’s temple, and winking at you as Aelin moved over to you with wide eyes.

“Aelin…” you started as she squealed.

“He was totally flirting with you! You would be such a cute couple, please, please ask him out I need you two to get married and have to worlds prettiest babies!” she was bouncing in hr seat as you moved to shut her up.

“Okay ONE, I just met him. And TWO, he was far too pretty for me,” you said and Aelin frowned.

“Nope, nope you are incorrect, and he is going to fall in love with you,” she demanded, and you laughed, kicking her with your foot.

“Mhm sure.”

--

The next few days, Fenrys was coming to your shop every day. He would bring chocolates and flowers some days, or coffee and pastries other days. Always dropping them off with a smile, before lounging in the plush, green chair in the corner of the shop and talking to you for hours. He has also started coming to your and Aelin’s weekly cocktail night, wrapping his arm around your shoulder’s and laughing drunkenly into your neck as you told stories.

However, through all this you remained ‘friends’. He would press kisses to your cheek and hands, keep an arm slung around your waist when men came to speak at you at bars and primarily referred to you using pet names and rarely ever your actual name. And it was getting frustrating.

You were having to start putting genuine effort to not kiss him every time you had a drink and he sat extra close to you. Or when you were invited to parties, and he moved smoothly through the countless questions asking if you were dating.

And while you revelled in the attention it was tearing at your heart slightly as insecurities told you that he would never actually be interested in you. You wanted to scream at him every time he kissed you but wanted to melt into him every time he hugged you, your brain constantly at battle with itself when he was near.

You knew you were due to explode any time soon. So when you were out one night and he was holding you extra close, you pulled away, muttering an excuse about getting another drink.

Standing at the bar as you waited you rested you head in your hands for a second before you saw a man begin to approach you. He was attractive, not like Fenrys, but honestly you would take anything to get your mind of him at the moment, so you smiled at him, tilting your head.

“What’s a doll like you doing all alone?” he asked, his voice rough and gravelly, unlike the smooth, deep timbre you were used to, but you just laughed.

“Waiting for a man to not dehumanise me,” you bit back, and he raised his hands sheepishly.

“Sorry about that, what would you prefer?” he flirted, sidling up closer to you as you turned to face him.

“Can’t go wrong with ma’am,” you joked, and he laughed, looking down and shaking his head, only to look back up, his eyes going wide. You felt a familiar hand wrap around your waist and looked up to see Fenrys, resisting the urge to roll your eyes as he glared at the man in front of you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, his voice deep and full of authority, the man in front of you shrinking under his gaze.

“Shit sorry man, didn’t realise she had a boyfriend,” he apologised and this time you did roll your eyes.

“He’s not my-“ you began but Fenrys cut you off.

“Yeah she does, so back the fuck off.” You looked down as he spoke, shaking your head as tears of frustration built in your eyes. You harshly pulled out of his grip, leaving the bar as quickly as you could, wiping away the escaped tears as you heard Fenrys follow after you, shouting your name.

You whirled around when you got outside, your glare murderous.

“You do not get to do that!” you shouted as he moved closer to you.

“Sweetheart I’m sorry,” he began but you cut him off.

“NO! I am not your girlfriend! You have never once asked me to be so you don’t get to try scare away any guy that might have genuine interest in me!” his shoulders slumped as you spoke. Truthfully, he has been working up the courage to ask you out for months, and while he knew it was unfair how he treated you, he couldn’t help himself. He was addicted. He thought of you constantly, the texture of your skin, the smell of your hair, the way your eyes lit up and the way you moved your hands as you spoke. So when he saw you engage with the man that had the audacity to talk to you, his grip tightened on his glass so much it shattered, ignoring the worried looks from Aelin and Rowan as he stomped over to you.

“(y/n) listen, I’ve been an asshole I know,” he raised his hands, tentatively stepping towards you, “But I really care about you, and I want to be yours.”

You laughed bitterly, “You’re just saying that.”

He shook his head vehemently, stepping closer to you again and wrapping his arms around your shoulders so gently, one would think you were made of glass.

“I love you darling, please be mine,” he said into your hair, and you pulled back, looking up at him through glassy eyes before nodding slightly.

“I love you Fenrys,” he smiled down at you before leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss against your mouth, pouring his heart into the action. You gasped slightly as your lips met and he smiled widely against your mouth as the bond clicked into place.

“You know this means I now have an excuse to break the nose of any man that talks to you,” he whispered against your lips, and you giggled, shoving at his shoulder gently.

“I’m still annoyed at you,” you muttered, and his eyes darkened.

“Well I’m sure I can make it up to you.”

[remakethestars]

Being Damian Wayne's Twin Sister Would Include:

Headcanons.

❝Exactly. I don't ask my dog to drive, and I don't ask the Justice League to solve my problems.❞

— Damian Wayne, Adventures of the Super Sons #9: Showdown on Hexworld

TRIGGER WARNING: Cursing, (Damian’s) death. Mentions of toxic masculinity and internalized misogyny, nightmares, blood, knives.

Headcanon masterlist.

When people ask you, “So, which one of you is the evil twin?” Damian always glowers, and you always motion to him.

You look disturbingly alike when only your eyes are showing; Damian’s got long lashes. Talia taught you a good tactic for tag-teaming in combat as kids was to pull up your hinged balaclavas and make the enemy think there was only one of you, that they’re seeing double.

Or for one of you to hang back while the other attacks as a distraction before the other knocks them out from behind.

Obviously, this won’t work when the two of you start filling out, but it works when you’re kids. It’s the reason why, even off the field, the two of you usually wear a matching outfits with hoods.

You utilize the same methods when she sends you to live with Bruce.

You don the Robin costume just like he does, much to the rest of the Batfam’s confusion (both because they weren’t expecting it and because they can’t tell you apart either), but sticking with the “red” theme, you go by Redstart.

There’s a rumor on the street that Robin V. is a meta that can teleport.

The two of you are freakishly good at mimicking the other’s voice and mannerisms, which makes it even harder for your family.

Jason tells you two about April Fools Day, and you make the most of it. Of course, Damian’s a pain in the a$$ and decides to go around pretending to be you and getting into trouble. You’re banned from the mall, and you still have no idea why. 

The two of you can communicate with just an impassive expression (Dick says it looks like a prime example of twin telepathy to anyone else), but anyone close to you knows sh¡t’s about to hit the fan when the two of you look at each other and smirk.

If it’s something you can’t communicate nonverbally, you use your cryptophasia. 

Cryptophasia is a language developed by twins when they’re learning to talk. Most of them grow out of it, you and Damian decided to keep developing it so it became more of a conlang. No one else has been taught to speak it, and they never will be. It’s for emergencies only.

Sun Tzu’s The Art of War was your Bible growing up, and the two of you call out verses when you fight together and need the other to understand a tactic (you both inherited Bruce’s eidetic memory, so you’ve got it memorized).

When you get too big to pull off the which-is-which game, you make your own costume and become the true Redstart. 

It’s basically Damian’s Robin uniform (the Super Sons’s version is the only one I’ll accept), but the boots and gloves are black, the biceps have a white stripe, the lining of the cape is white (the lining of the hood is black), the gold accents become white, it has a zipper down the front instead of clasps, and the mask becomes black (including the eyes). The waterline of the eyes is white. Like a painted redstart.

If Damian’s into animals, you’re into plants. The two of you find common ground on the fact that pollution sucks, so when you walk Titus, you take a trash bag and gloves with you to pick up litter as you go.

You did not want to go to Jon’s school. 

Not because you don’t like Jon (because you do), but because you know you could run intellectual circles around every one of those snot-nosed brats. 

School is stupid. Especially because the American education system is subpar; everything about it is.

You hardly pay attention in class. You do all of the homework a week ahead of time incase something comes up. Usually you’re doing next week’s homework in class. You’ve written entire papers on your phone in Google Docs in the middle of class to be printed out later.

If you’ve already done everything, Damian’s usually drawing and you’re daydreaming or you’re working on a case on your phone.

The teachers are always trying to catch you not paying attention, but you little sh¡ts can always answer their questions. 

Damian’s closest with Dick, but you’re closest with Tim. You admire his ability to plan ahead (see the entirety of the Red Robin comics), and you know that he’s better than both your father and your grandfather; you want to be as good as him when you grow up.

It takes a long time to wash the toxic masculinity and internalized misogyny our of your head, to learn that your grandfather’s ideas of “strength” were wrong, that it’s okay to lean on someone besides Damian, that you can be just as strong as your brother and still be feminine, that there are acceptable emotions besides anger.

Actually, your father teaches you that anger is more likely to get you killed. He won’t let you go into the field when he knows your angry.

It’s harder to drill out of you than your instinct to kill.

There’s a Lebanese restaurant called Tarbooshes (Teen Titans Special #1) the two of you go to when you’re feeling homesick. They make ox blood soup the same way your mother did, and it’s the only non-vegetarian thing Damian will eat for that very reason.

It’s nice to have a place to go where they know you by name and know what you want when you tell them “the usual.” It’s nice to have a place where you’re not a Wayne or an Al Ghul, where you’re just [Y/N] and Damian.

You disappear for an hour on your birthday to eat there. Bruce has asked you were you go, but you kept that between the two of you. 

Speaking of birthdays, you’re eleven minutes older than him. He was six pounds and ten ounces (Batman & Robin #0?), and you were a solid seven.

After Damian died, you go to Tarbooshes to feel close to him.

You were doing all right with the no-killing thing until the night Damian died.

Heretic never stood a chance.

He looked so much like Damian it gave you nightmares, though. Nightmares where you killed your twin brother and woke up sobbing.

Damian didn’t give you a speech in his last moments. He just looked over at you and said in your cryptophasia, “I’m sorry.” 

Not “I love you.” Not “Take care of them for me.” You knew that; you’d do that. He didn’t have to tell you, and he didn’t have to ask.

Just “I’m sorry.” Sorry that you were the one that was left behind.

It’s one thing to lose a family member, to lose a friend, or to lose a lover. It’s another to lose half of your soul.

The two of you had always feared you would die apart. It had always been a possibility; you weren’t stupid enough to think, “It’ll never happen to me.” Because it definitely could. 

And it had.

You wanted to run away from everything. Even just for a while. Go to one of your safe houses in London or France or whatever and just — you didn’t know — stare at the wall until you felt better? But you’d made that unspoken promise to Damian — “I’ll take care of them for you; don’t worry.” — to take care of Titus and Catfred and Jerry and Batcow and Goliath, to take care of Alfred and Bruce and Dick and Jason and Cassandra and Tim, to take care of Jon and Colin and Maps.

You avoided the cave. And if you had to go down there for some reason, you refused to look at the Robin suits.

Dick noticed. He asked if you wanted them taken down, even just for a while. You gave him a look like he was nuts and said, “No.”

Jon was a mess. More of a mess than you were, somehow. 

You’d shown up at the Kents’s. Jon was out doing Superboy things with Clark and Conner. Lois was the only one home.

You nearly scared her out of her skin when you materialized behind her and asked, “Is Jon home? It’s important.” 

He had to know first. He deserved to.

For all he put up with from you two, he deserved to be the first to know when one of you was f*cking dead.

Lois, of course, bless her heart, had the mom instincts to know that you were in no way, shape, or form okay even when you were trying so hard to hold yourself together. She asked you what’s wrong, and it’s what made you break. 

Your lip trembled. “He’s gone.”

“Who’s gone?”

“Damian,” your voice broke. “He’s dead.” 

Jon came home to find you in his living room in your Robin uniform, covered in Damian’s and Heretic’s blood, snot running down your lip, sobbing in his mothers arms and knew what happened without having to ask. He did anyway.

When you and Jon both finally passed out, your Uncle Clark flew you back to the Batcave. No one was in any condition — not even Alfred — so he carried you up to your room; took your boots, mask, cape, and gloves off; and tucked you in. Then he went to find Bruce because there was no doubt he was losing it too.

Bruce doesn’t tell you anything about trying to find a way to bring him back without the Lazarus pit because he doesn’t want to get your hopes up. 

You walk into your room one day to find Damian sitting there reading the dissertation (the requirement was three pages, not 120, but your teacher would just have to deal with your coping mechanisms) you had been working on for your World History class and left up on your laptop while on patrol. 

He said with the utmost indifference, “You’ve made some good points, Sister,” and, of course, you pulled out a knife and attacked him because this was — was — was some shapeshifting alien or hologram tech or a cruel joke — your twin was dead, this wasn’t funny, whoever did this was going to pay.

He met you blow-for-blow and flipped away from you before saying, “And here I was expecting a warm welcome,” in your cryptophasia. 

“Brother?” 

“Tt. Obviously.” 

Yeah, a college level thesis. You’re smart. You inherited Bruce’s eidetic memory and were raised by assassins.

You learned seven languages and wrote five doctoral theses by the time your teeth came in, wrote your first letter to a newspaper editor when you were two, could’ve had a geology doctorate when you were seven (Super Sons #1), and it only took you a week to learn the language on Takron-Galtos. You’re smart.

You’re also incredibly skilled. You learned to drive when you were five (Super Sons #1), your mother trained you to go for weeks without eating (Adventures of the Super Sons #6), you can micro-sleep for days and converse with half your brain asleep, can use a muscular contraction to move your liver out of the way of a blade (Nightwing #20), and can place yourself in a deep trance to heal damages caused by a hematoma (also #20).

(My dumba$$ didn’t note what Super Sons/Adventure of the Super Sons comic I was reading when I took notes, so I don’t have all of them noted in the two above bullet points. But that’s where they’re from. If I end up rereading them, I’ll edit this and add the comic numbers.)

The first time on patrol you thought Bruce was gonna die, you called him Baba. 

The next evening, when Dick came to visit the cave, he turned to you and Damian and asked, “So, which one of you called him Dad?” 

“How’d you know?” you asked. 

“He’s smiling the way he did the day I called him Tati.”

“He’s not smiling,” Damian pointed out.

“He is on the inside.”

Can we talk about how royally the Arkham Knights game screwed up Tim Drake? (Though, everything seems to screw up Tim one way or another, I guess.) Why does he look like a quidditch player in the gif above the cut?

Visit my headcanon masterlist.

DISCLAIMER ━━━ I’m a dumb white American, and I don’t know much about Arab or Romani culture other than what I’ve learned online. I hope I got it right?? If I didn’t, please drop a comment or P.M. me or something to let me know!

[klixxy]

Genshin Fic Recs

so... i ventured into the vast world of Google looking for some good GI fic recs... only to find such a pitiful amount that i was promptly devastated. therefore, the solution is to make my own! :D

keep in mind most of these will be ChiLi or XingYun, and yes, i will try not to include smut unless it was one i really really liked. if anyone wants a separate list for just smut (though that will most likely be shorter) i can try to make one later.`

ft. my bookmark comments :)

CHILI

wrapped up in pure gold by beyondwinter

(chili; accidental marriage; chili/childe-centric; 22k words; ongoing)

"Do you understand its meaning, Childe?" He finally asks. There's a hard glint in his eyes, like he's trying to steel himself for his answer.

"Yeah." Loyalty and devotion, right? Between business partners? "I do. It's traditional, isn't it?"

Zhongli's eyes glow a warm amber in the near darkness, reflecting the soft shine of the lanterns. He studies his face with a strange intensity, as though Childe were a piece of high quality Nocticulous Jade being sold for suspiciously small sum and he's trying to find the blemishes that would explain the price. The weight of his gaze should be uncomfortable, boring into him like he can see into the very depths of his abyss-tainted soul, but Childe finds himself preening under the attention instead.

Childe accidentally proposes to Zhongli. Zhongli accepts.

The World is Water by Millereflets

(chili; smut; hurt/comfort; chili-centric; 7k words; oneshot)

Childe doesn't visit Zhongli until it's almost too late.

(my bookmarks: HOW DO YOU MAKE A SMUT SCENE SO POETIC HOLY SHITTTTT)

Set in Stone by seredemia

(chili; fake dating au; angst; some smut?; chili/chiilde-centric; 55k words; ongoing)

What do you do when you write about a certain six thousand year old consultant so much in your letters that it somehow convinces your entire family you're not only dating each other, but that you're also engaged?

In Childe's case, the answer is plain and simple: he goes along with it, of course. Absolutely nothing can go wrong if he makes a contract with the God of Contracts, vowing that the two of them will pretend to be lovers for the duration of his family's stay in Liyue. Afterwards, they'll return as normal and speak no more of this mess. No feelings or complications involved whatsoever.

Contract accepted. A fool-proof plan set in stone. Right?

Private Ledger of the Eleventh Harbinger by JuHuaTai

(chili; humor; getting together; chili/ekaterina-centric; 5k words; oneshot)

“So guess what I did next?”

Ekaterina contemplated not answering, but Harbinger Tartaglia was just… grinning and waiting. It’s honestly rather creepy the longer time passed.

In the end, she gave a long suffering sigh that seems lost on him, “You bought him the Erhu—“

“I bought him the antique, cor lapis based Erhu,”

-

When she first left her homeland for the unknown nation of Liyue, Ekaterina was ready to be many things: To be a soldier, to fell Tsaritsa’s enemies in her name, to bring glory to Snezhnaya and her leader.

Being a receptionist in a cozy bank wasn’t so bad in comparison, but she absolutely can do without the front row seat to Harbinger Tartaglia’s (expensive) love life.

i know i'm where i'm meant to go by paperclips (pastel_paperclips)

(chili; humor; fluff; chili-centric; 12k words; ongoing)

"Childe," Zhongli says suddenly. "I am enjoying myself greatly." Childe’s face breaks into a grin. "Then-" Zhongli gasps, grabbing his wrist and tugging him over to an unsuspecting peddler with a cart full of rocks. "Is that an intrusive igneous pegmatite formed in the Inazuma regions?" Childe’s grin smooths into a small, adoring smile. He has all the time in the world to figure the other man out.

OR: Finding the Geo Archon is on Childe's to-do list but hanging out with Zhongli is significantly more fun.

CHILIVEN

Crumbling Stone by avtorSola

(chiliven; ANGST; PAIN; mind control; zhongli-centric; 74k words; ongoing)

When Morax unleashes his plan to test the Liyue Qixing and his adepti, he does not take into account the stirring of the Abyss Order in the north and the corruption of Dvalin - for why would he fear an organization that works in such shadows? He is secure in his power, after all, unlike his flighty ex, the absentee archon of Mondstadt who rises only when his people are in danger.

But, somehow, the Abyss Order discovers his plan. Somehow, they capitalize on it. And he, the God of Stone who cannot sicken, is struck down - taken by an order bent on destroying all of humanity as Liyue crumbles around him. For even Archons aren't immune to Durin's blood, and Morax is no exception. But then the question becomes - if even Archons may fall to the agony of this corrupting burn - how is their traveling friend Aether immune?

The answer comes from beyond the stars - an ancient malice that knows no kindness or mercy. A malice whose legacy the Abyss Order now bears, seeking to topple all the Archons and their people into the void of utter destruction. And they have begun in Liyue.

Fortunately, it takes a long time to erode stone.

(my bookmarks: IM SCREAMING AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA)

PLATONIC ZHONGVEN

left-behind city by trixstar

(platonic zhongven; angst; ANGST; venti-centric; 1k words; oneshot)

"An associate of mine has just informed me that Rex Lapis, the Geo Archon has been assassinated."

Venti blinks.

Or: Venti and how he copes with finding out he is all that remains.

i circle ten thousand years long; and i still do not know if i am a falcon, a storm, or an unfinished song by birdsofpassage

(platonic zhongven; angst; hurt/comfort; zhongven-centric; 4k words; oneshot)

Venti and Zhongli, and the vignettes of a much-needed vacation around Mondstadt.

(my bookmarks: ; - ;      ;  -  ; )

oh ye with little faith by air_fried_air

(platonic zhongven; angst; hurt/comfort; zhongven-centric; 2k words; oneshot)

Two former archons do a little tour around Mondstadt.

(my bookmarks: why are all genshin angst fics so melancholy.... i feel so empty)

the wind through the mountain tops by glassdrachma

(platonic zhongven; humor; hurt/comfort; zhongven-centric; 21k words; finished)

Boredom brings Barbatos of Mondstadt to bother a certain ex-Archon of the Earth.

(my bookmarks: venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship-)

XINGYUN

the art of exorcism by Agried

(xingyun; ghost au; hurt/comfort; chongyun-centric; 9k words; oneshot)

On the road back from one of his jobs, Chongyun runs into Xingqiu, the wandering swordsman. And then they keep meeting, over and over again. or, alternately; how a ghost and an exorcist learn how to love, one step at a time.

Bane of All Evil by tzitzimeme

(xingyun; humor; romance; chongyun-centric; 24k words; hiatus)

When Chongyun unintentionally offends Liyue's second most powerful adepti, he vows to mend the thorny relationship between Adeptus Xiao and human exorcists-- even though no one has succeeded in currying Xiao's favor for over a thousand years.

His best friend Xingqiu offers to come alone, mainly because he's worried about what kind of trouble Chongyun will run into. Along the way, they receive help from others: Xiangling packs them meals for their journeys, while Zhongli gives them advice on what demons to track.

Childe is just there because he thinks the whole thing is hilarious.

[On indefinite hiatus due to burnout; sorry!]

kiss me slowly (so i don't forget) by xiwangmu

(xingyun; humor; romance; light angst; xingqiu-centric; 8k words; oneshot)

Wangshu Inn Bulletin Board

Guest Message: My best friend whom I harbor affections for kissed me last night, but due to his special condition he does not recall a single moment of it. I am quite conflicted about whether to disclose these events to him or not, because that would most certainly require me to confess my feelings as well. If anyone has experience in romancing boys with excessive positive energy, this one humbly asks you to share some advice.

Reply: Our greatest apologies—although we would like to offer some words in response, we simply cannot decipher your handwriting. Perhaps you may return with a neater message next time?

time trials by idlestars

(xingyun/many ships; humor; modern au; xingyun-centric; 2k words; oneshot)

A modern social media AU.

Xingqiu Teases Demons. Chongyun Almost Cries. [The clip shows Xingqiu, lit by the sickly green of night vision, as he stares bored into a dark room. He’s alone - Chongyun left to see if Xingqiu could lure out the ghosts. Xingqiu glances at the camera, smirks, and then opens his mouth.

“Hey demons, it’s me, yah boy.”]

OTHER/GEN

woe be the wallet of the god of wealth by glassdrachma

(gen; humor; identity reveal; keqing/zhongli-centric; 12k words; finished)

Or, the story of how the Yuheng of the Qixing came to idolize, befriend, and discover the identity of the God of Geo, in that order.

(personal comments: hilarious, made me burst out into laughter multiple times, and was just a masterful piece of writing)

to dream of dust by miao_x

(guili/gen; ANGST; hurt/no comfort; zhongli-centric; 5k words; oneshot)

Some nights, Zhongli dreams.

He dreams of soft light, golden song, and a gentle breeze whispering tales of millennia past. It is warm, familiar, and comforting.

It feels like home.

And then he opens his eyes, and awakes to reality.

(my bookmarks: oh zhongli... made me cry)

To drown in your own tears by C_rin_nyan

(guili/gen; ANGST; TEARS; PAIN; zhongli-centric; 2k words; oneshot)

As Rex Lapis, he had never shed a tear, even as he slaughtered hundreds, destruction following his every step. As Zhongli, he had shed much more than he would like to admit, however.

Or, “Zhongli’s soul gave its last scream long ago, yet even now, the echo of said sound was still strong enough to reach Rex Lapis.”