#it's also dark and that's crucial for someone like me

[theyoungprinceling]

"Sometimes all I wanna do on rainy days is sleep..."

[mggslover]

Through thin walls

In which Spencer finds solace in the sounds of his new neighbor.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader Genre: smut (18+) Content warnings: perv!spence, mutual masturbation Word count: 1,7k A/n: i wanted to write a smut with a more sensual, almost poetic approach?? let me know what you think of it bc i truly don’t know how to feel about it… also tell me if you'd be interested in a part two where they would meet!

Spencer wasn’t one to find much solace in sleep.

Once, it had offered him comfort, a refuge where he could momentarily let go of his worries. But that was before his dreams started to haunt him. He was often praised for his eidetic memory, but what people failed to consider was that it also meant remembering your worst memories in precise, vivid detail. 

Of course Spencer was aware of how crucial sleep was, how sleep deprivation could wear a person down to the point of breaking them. But when sleep was the very thing that tore at him, what good was it? He did try to rest—clinging to the rare moments on the jet, where the hum of the engines and the presence of the team offered a shield against the nightmares that awaited him. But in the stillness of his own bed, the darkness pressed in, suffocating him until sleep became a burden he couldn’t bear.

When Spencer prepared for another attempt at sleep, he braced himself for the familiar routine: tossing and turning in tangled sheets, silently reciting The Parliament of Fowls in a desperate effort to reclaim the peace it once gave him—back when his mother would read it to him as a child. He’d pace to the kitchen for a warm glass of milk, anything to calm his restless mind, only for the alarm to blare the moment his head hit the pillow.

What he didn’t expect, though, was to hear a sound from the other side of the wall.

Soft at first, like it was testing the air—a breath, a hum, something faint but undeniably there. Spencer sat up against the headboard, his face turned toward the shared wall. The walls in his apartment were thin, but he hadn’t heard anything from next door in ages, not since his neighbor had moved out.

He waited patiently, listening, and then—there it was again. A faint gasp followed by a low moan. Spencer’s breath hitched as he made out that the sound came from a woman. He tensed, his mind immediately jumping to conclusions. Was she hurt? His pulse quickened. The moan was deeper this time, echoed by a soft, shaky exhale. 

He pressed his ear closer to the wall, straining to make out the sounds. A faint shuffle of movement reached him next, followed by a distant buzzing. Was someone else with her? His thoughts raced as he waited, not sure whether to jump to action. 

The sounds didn’t stop. In fact, they seemed to intensify, morphing into a rhythmic string of moans, sounding almost…sensual. 

Spencer sat frozen as the realization hit him. His stomach fluttered, a flush creeping up his neck and across his face as he struggled to grasp what was happening. He should turn away, should stop listening, but the sounds—her sounds—kept pulling him in. Her soft whimpers seemed to draw out something deep inside of him, an unfamiliar curiosity. 

Another moan sounded, higher pitched, followed by a low, drawn-out whine that made Spencer flinch. His eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to stop the flood of thoughts from rushing in, but it felt like his body was magnetized to the sound. There was nothing but that—the rasp of her breath, the unmistakable signs of pleasure seeping through the thin wall.

The sound of buzzing grew louder, and when a curse left the lips of the women next door, Spencer couldn’t help but let a deep groan escape from his throat. He quickly bit down on his lower lip, heart pounding in his chest. The sounds from the other side of the wall abruptly stopped, and for a moment, the silence was deafening. He held his breath, muscles tensed, every nerve on edge, waiting for what might come next. It felt like an eternity before the buzzing started again—this time softer, but still unmistakable. Spencer let out a long, shaky exhale, the weight in his chest lifting slightly.

Spencer was a firm believer of the mind having control over the body. He’s seen enough cases where people’s minds compelled them to commit horrific acts they wouldn’t have otherwise. In Spencer’s case he’d learned to ignore the nudges of his body, quickly pushing his desires aside as a mere biological function he shouldn’t linger on for too long. Maybe it was his lack of sleep, or the desperation for a change of routine—because this time around his body was getting the best of him. 

The tightness in his pants grew simultaneously with the pretty sounds next door. His hand clenched around the fabric of his sheets, but it didn’t stop the tension building inside of him. 

He tried to shift his focus back to something logical. Distracting himself by thinking back on his chemistry thesis on Dipole-Dipole forces, how simple the alignment of the polar molecules sounded, but how complex it actually is—how the bond isn’t as intense as with ions, but something that builds steadily over time, almost imperceptibly at first, until it becomes undeniable. 

As his mind went on thinking about the invisible, magnetic pull between the opposing charges, he couldn’t help but notice the similarities with the situation he was in. She, like a molecule with her own electric field, creating a captivating attraction, slowly drawing him in with every sweet sound that escaped her lips. He could only wonder what would happen the moment they would meet—if their charged particles aligned—how it could release something greater than either of them could anticipate.

He imagined the woman next door. He pictured her as a shadow first—a soft silhouette just beyond his reach, blurred by the apartment wall. But in his thoughts, the edges of her figure sharpened.

He wondered if she was touching herself, if her hands were trailing along her body in the same way he traced her in his mind. He wondered what her skin would feel like under his fingertips. Would it be soft, the kind that invited touch? Or would the gentle curve of her shoulders be warmer, more textured and defined? 

His hand moved without permission, fingers tracing his own jaw, his eyes fluttering close. His fingers brushed against his neck, leaving a trace of goosebumps in its wake. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to touch her there, to feel the pulse beneath her skin. 

Another moan slipped through the wall, soft and pleading. Would she react the same way if I touched her? The thought sent a jolt of heat through him. Spencer’s hand twitched as he unbuttoned the buttons of his shirt, his hand gliding over his bare chest. 

Each breath, each noise from her, felt like a thread pulling him closer to the edge, closer to her. His body moved on his own accord. His hand slipped beneath the waistband of his pants, and he’s hit with the sensation of warmth and need. 

He wondered if she knew how beautiful she sounded. If she was even aware of how loud she was. Or maybe she simply didn’t care. Maybe she liked how much she affected him with her whimpers and gasps. 

He imagined the way her body would move, the soft rise and fall of her chest, the delicate arch of her back as she gave herself over to the sensation. He could almost feel it—like a phantom touch—her skin against his, the way she would shudder beneath him, lost in the same heat he was drowning in now.

His hand drifted lower, unable to stop. He pictured pressing her body into the sheets, hearing her moan against his ear as he would lean in and hide his face into the crook of her neck. He wondered whether she would surrender herself to the pleasure or try gaining more by wrapping her legs around him, pulling him closer. Whether she would like him to take it slow, savoring every touch, or if she would want him to be rough, to make her feel an ecstasy she hasn’t experienced before. 

Another sharp gasp came from the other side of the wall. Spencer stifled a groan as his hand moved more urgently, guided by his growing pleasure. He couldn’t think. Couldn’t focus. Fully consumed by the thought of her—so close, yet still so out of reach. 

Spencer wasn’t sure where his sounds began and where hers ended. He was swallowed by the overwhelming sensation, his mind too hazy to make out the border between reality and his imagination. His grip on himself tightened, spurred on by her sounds that seemed to match his own rhythm. 

She had slipped so deeply into his mind that he could feel her, in every breath, in every shiver of his skin. Spencer felt it in his chest, the way his breath quickened, the way the pressure built. She had become more than just the sounds next door, more than a figment of his imagination. She had become a need. And in this moment, he had no choice but to follow where it led.

Her moans became more frequent. Spencer’s body responded instantly. His hand moved faster, drawn by the pulse of her release, feeling the way it thrummed through him as though they were one. 

He could almost see her—her legs writhing, her eyes closed, her lips parted in that delicate, breathless moan. His mind painted the picture so clearly, it felt as though she were right in front of him. 

Her release ignited his, a wave of heat rolled through him, pulling him under. His breath caught, his body shaking as he followed her, their climaxes crashing together—separate, yet so intimately tied.

As his breath slowed, Spencer lay still, his mind buzzing with the aftershocks of what had just happened. He could still hear her lingering moans in his mind, like a melody he couldn’t shake. His heartbeat, once frantic and wild, slowed to a steady rhythm. The air in the room felt lighter, less suffocating, the weight of longing finally lifted from his chest. 

The exhaustion that pressed down on him was different from the nights before. It wasn’t the weariness of a restless mind, of memories from the past gnawing at him. It was the deep, almost tender exhaustion that followed from his release. 

Tonight, there were no nightmares waiting at the edge of his consciousness. Just quiet. Just calm. Just her.

PART TWO

[ifishouldvanish]

This is probably me reading waaayyy to much into things BUT I'm presently being haunted by Thoughts™ of that last scene with Olrox and Mizrak.

Like Mizrak spends the season doubting his standing with God and trying to atone for the role he played in realizing the abbot's plans. He's wracked with guilt and knows that hell is waiting for him.

And then we have Olrox who knows this, knows what he's done, knows how he feels about it. We see him physically hold Mizrak back and force him to stop and look at what he has wrought. Yet every time Mizrak dismisses him, Olrox returns to basically yell, "I know! I know, and I still love you!" He's extending the grace Mizrak is certain he does not deserve in the eyes of his God.

One of the more crucial myths about Quetzalcoatl is a story in which humanity has been killed off as punishment for vice and greed, or even just as collateral in a spat between deities—but Quetzalcoatl believed in humanity so much that he went to the underworld to retrieve everyone's bones, and, through the sacrifice of his blood, gave humanity the gift of life again.

And I keep thinking about the line, "the devil is easy to cheat".

Of course, the mesoamerican pantheon doesn't have a 'devil' per se, but it does have Mictlantecutli, who is the ruler of their underworld. And a key part of this myth is that when Quetzalcoatl went to the underworld for everyone's bones, he didn't want to give them back. Quetzalcoatl had to use trickery to steal the bones and escape with them.

So I keep thinking about this shot in particular:

To me, it echoes this one from season 1:

I've already written about the symbolism of Olrox's introductory scene at some length, so I won't repeat myself here, but I liken this shot of Julia to a sacrifice. So, you know... by proxy I'm now likening Olrox in this last scene to a sacrifice.

But this time the roles are effectively reversed. Julia, a human sacrificed to a god, and Olrox a god (or at least an avatar of one) sacrificing himself for a human, for someone he believes to be deserving of life.

Like I look at this scene and I think about these things and this shot of Olrox seems to say, "drink of my blood, feast upon my flesh". To say, "your God won't save you, but I will." To promise, "if the devil tries to take you, I will venture into hell to steal you back. I will offer myself to grant you life again."

Of course, the life Olrox is giving Mizrak here is a dark and twisted thing, but it's also an achingly beautiful expression of a god's unconditional love.

[captainshyguy]

its because theyre the closest thing the fandom has to twinks and fandoms explode if they cant ship two little skinny guys or something

I finished Super Paper Mario earlier today for the first time after 16 years of owning and adoring the game and

I have a question for any Limentio / Dimigi shippers out there.

Why

[luckykiwiii101]

HOW TO ENTER THE VOID STATE WITHOUT VOID CONCEPT!!! (Guaranteed) ❦❦❦❦❦❦❦

(Warning!!!Long post ahead)

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🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

I know some people will heavily disagree with me about this. But I really believe there is a way to enter the void without having to have a good void concept.

All you need is to believe in the void state. That’s it.

The technique:

- Get into a comfortable position.🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

- Clear your mind with a meditation or something. Maybe by breathing etc, whatever works for you. I really recommend DMT waves to calm your mind. Know that it is important to feel calm physically and mentally. Although it is not completely necessary if you are experienced.🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

- Once you feel relaxed and have a clear mind, start to affirm your affs for the void state. E.g. “I am pure consciousness” “I am void” “I am in the void state” (You don’t need to affirm, just do anything that distracts you from the 3D, like focusing on your breath, or focusing on the darkness behind your eyes. Anything is alright as long as it doesn’t lead to you falling asleep or paying attention to the 3D).🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

- Acknowledge that you do not need to completely block out the 3D. What i mean by “block out” is that you may still be able to hear and feel the 3D. Just don’t focus your attention onto it. Your attention should be on your affirmations or whatever else you chose to focus on (doesn’t have to be affirmations). Also if you get an itch, ignore it, but if it’s too unbearable and it’s completely ruining your focus, there’s no harm in scratching it. You may ask “but why can i scratch it? I have to stay still or i won’t enter the void.” The thing is, this technique does not require you to turn off your left brain as you will normally start to feel symptoms within 2-5 minutes within doing so, and it takes 15-20 minutes to turn off your left brain. Of course you can turn off your left brain by relaxing whilst staying still for 15-20 minutes if that is what you resonate with better. Know that scratching an itch, or shuffling around does not stop you from entering the void. It does not “ruin your progress” either. That is impossible. The void is within you, you cannot run from yourself. YOU ARE THE VOID!🖤🖤🖤

- Know that you do not have to feel symptoms like floating. This is a big misconception. Ofcourse symptoms are very common, but not everyone experiences them. People feel like they can’t enter the void because the symptoms aren’t there to “tell them” that they are “doing it right”. As long as you are not focused on the 3D, you ARE doing it right. Stop stressing. You are supposed to feel relaxed. Stressing is the opposite of relaxation.🖤🖤🖤🖤

- This process will probably take you around 5 minutes. Ofcourse it depends on you as a person. Like how long it takes you to clear your mind. Or how long it takes you to feel comfortable. This should not take more than 1-10 minutes. Most likely will take 2-5 minutes. But don’t worry if it takes longer than that. Erase the stress and anxiety from your mind because you know for a fact that you are going to enter the void. I promise that this cannot fail you. It is literally impossible. It is not based on assumption. It doesn’t matter whether you believe it’s difficult to enter the void state. Just know that you are going to enter the void very quickly because there is no other outcome after doing this. There is no “failure”. 🖤🖤🖤🖤

- You will most likely start to feel floating symptoms etc. Spinning, falling (If you are someone who doesn’t usually feel symptoms, that is fine). When things get more intense the floating feeling might make you feel like you are “panicking”. But don’t worry, just focus and relax. 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

- THIS IS A VERY CRUCIAL PART!!! Do not focus on your symptoms. Of course you can feel them, but do not pay attention to them. Do not focus on them. There you go. You are in the void.🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

See how easy it is. Try it for yourself and watch how failure doesn’t exist. I don’t care what your void concept is like. I don’t care whether you think you can’t do it. You have no choice when doing this method. This has been used for years and years. It is literally just detachment from the 3D. It is not difficult.🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

BIG MISTAKES PEOPLE MAKE:

Some people make some really silly mistakes and then complain about “not being able to enter the void.”🖤🖤🖤

MISTAKE NUMBER 1:

- Anticipating entering the void. Your goal should be to relax. Of course to eventually enter the void, but if you are anticipating by thinking “When am i going to enter the void?!” “When am i going to start feeling symptoms?” then you are just going to stress yourself out. Do not do this! When you are clearing your mind, set the intention of entering the void and just relax and know that you are going to enter.🖤🖤🖤

MISTAKE NUMBER 2:

- Thinking that movement is not allowed. You ARE allowed to move around and adjust your position. It doesn’t “slow you down” or “ruin your progress”. It doesn’t stop you from entering. So stop stressing. Moving around only matters when you are turning your left brain off, but this method does not require that. I’ve moved around plenty of times and i’ve seen many success stories of people who have moved around whilst literally having a terrible void concept on top of that.🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

MISTAKE NUMBER 3:

- When people start to feel the symptoms, they drift their attention to the 3D and how their physical body feels. DO NOT DO THIS!! Just keep focusing on what you were focusing on before, then you will enter the void in a few seconds. Literally. I always used to do this and just yesterday i stopped letting the symptoms get the best of me and get distracted by them, i kept persisting in my affirmations whilst affirming to enter the void and i felt myself entering but since i didn’t want to enter (because i am a dumbass), i woke myself up. But it’s TOO easy. Okay. Ignoring symptoms are ridiculously easy.

WHAT TO DO IF I FIND IT DIFFICULT TO IGNORE SYMPTOMS?

There are many ways you can ignore symptoms:

For mild focus (when you don’t feel symptoms yet):

- Focus on breathing and breathing only.

- Focus on affirming and affirming only.

- Focus on the darkness behind eyes only

For when you start to feel symptoms but they aren’t that intense:

- Focus on breathing and affirming only.

- Focus on breathing and darkness only.

- Focus on affirming and darkness only.

For when symptoms start to get really intense and you can feel yourself entering the void:

- Focus on all three simultaneously.

If you still find it easy to focus on ONE thing when things get intense (which they might not) then that’s fine. You don’t have to focus on more than one thing. That’s just a solution for people who can’t. Also i just have examples of what to focus on. Ofc you can focus on random thoughts or anything detached from the 3D. Whatever makes you feel most comfortable.🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

See how easy it is. Go enter the void rn and have fun whether you just wanted peace or to manifest something!!!🖤🖤🖤

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🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Sincerely, - Gossip Girl 💋💋💋

[stevieschrodinger]

I do not have time to write this, but I really need to write it down.

All the events of Stranger things happen as normal - one crucial difference, Eddie gets involved, but not in the same way. He's an innocent by stander who never made friends with the kids. He's a vague background character to the action. He's an extra on set, effectively, and when he drops out of school and leaves town abruptly, someone might notice, but no one really questions it.

Years later, the only thing that feels real about the whole thing are the scars Steve still carries on his body. Sometimes, sometimes, he has to call Robin, just to check it was all real. That he hasn't lost his mind. He still flinches when a light flickers, to this day his ears ring for hours after a loud noise. He has headaches.

The only people he can talk to about it are Robin and the kids; but he feels bad. The kids aren't kids anymore, and they all seem to have just...gotten on with their lives. Seemed to have grown and evolved past it all, even though Steve regularly still wakes in the night, sweating and fighting with his bed covers. He doesn't put that on them, he sounds happy on the phone, and he is, loves hearing about their lives, their relationships, their plans and their own kids.

Robin has a girlfriend, she's happy and settled. Steve's the only one who seems...stuck. Like he cant move past it. He bums around. Stays with Nancy for a while, then Robin. Visits Argyle, makes loose acquaintances and sofa surfs. Drifts, aimlessly, through life.

It's about time in his cycle to visit Robin, but the relationship is serious this time and she nags him to find his own place to stay near by - loosing patience with him when he fails to be motivated and finding it for him herself. It's tiny, the kind of place where the bed is also the couch and the TV rests on a short run of kitchen counter because there's no where else. Feels okay though.

Steve gets a job. Spends a day on foot, door to door, walking through town; lands in a record shop of all places, even though CD's have now well and truly taken hold and vinyl isn't much of a thing. It's dark inside, the walls painted black, the bare brick red. A couple of people browse through, but Steve heads right for the counter.

There's some screamo rock stuff playing that Steve doesn't recognize, but it's quiet, so it's okay.

Behind the counter, someone Steve half recognizes from another life. Eddie Munson, Freak of Hawkins High. What are the odds.

Eddie isn't who Steve remembers. He's angry now. Bitter. Has a horrible scar that creeps up his neck and onto his face, pulling the corner of his lip down. Steve does his best to ignore it. Begs for work.

Eddie employs him, but only because he thinks it's fucking funny how far the king has fallen. Now the king works for the jester.

Steve does his best at the shop. Cleans a lot. Gets on well with the customers, charms plenty of sales.

Eddie walks with a cane and seems to hate everyone and everything; but nothing so much as a cold morning. Seems to be in more pain than usual.

Steve wants to ask, Eddie tells him it was an animal attack. In 86.

Steve's seen some of the scars by now, caught glimpses of how bad Eddie was hurt; helped Eddie even when Eddie was spitting angry about accepting any help.

What the fuck kind of animal could do that much damage in Hawkins?

You wouldn't believe me if I told you.

And Steve puts it together then, instantly and viscerally realizes in his bones what must have happened. No one ever believed Eddie. Why would they? How could anyone think that monsters coming out of the walls, out of the floors, out of glowing red portals could be the truth?

And Steve says, did it's face peel apart like a flower?

And then he tells Eddie. He tells Eddie everything. He shows Eddie his own scars. Tells him about every monster they ever come across. It was one of the demo dogs. Like Dart. Steve knew it must have been, but Eddie confirms with a description.

And then Eddie cries, because he finally has a explanation. He's not crazy. For the first time in his life, someone believes him.

[alexiroflife]

when a religious group member crosses the line…

fluff, violence

🌙🌙🌙

it’s no unknown secret that geto suguru can not stand the non-sorcerer members of his cult. the moment they step out of his vicinity after having made incredibly generous donations toward his services, his feigned polite smile is falling and his nose is curling in disgust. he can’t stand how they grovel, how they beg, how they cling to him because they’re weak. they’re so greedy, so pathetic, so disgusting

when new members of his group enter the picture, suguru has to proceed to muster up the strength to pretend to enjoy helping them, which he is incredibly skilled at doing. in the midst of his theatrics, however, there tends to be crucial information that slips through the cracks of what all members should be, and normally are, aware of

you are suguru’s everything, and everyone within his cult who has a damn brain knows it. he showcases you like a trophy, letting you cling to his arm or sit on his lap when he is lecturing his members, ensuring that every one of them can see the way his fingers curl over your waist, the way your lips come to meet his cheek, the way you are unmistakably his and his alone

unfortunately, however, newer members of the cult may not always be aware of your relationship, and their innate greed for more than what suguru’s generous services already offer rouses… issues

suguru is holding a formal fundraising event for his cult one evening and he’s a bit agitated. you’re on suguru’s arm wearing a dark purple gown as he greets people, welcoming them and buttering up the wealthy classes. his hand is snug around you, keeping you close as if to protect you from the pigs swarming the center. he doesn’t like that they’re so close to you, but he feels you’re safer when you’re by his side at all times

the moment he is left alone, his facade vanishes as he turns to you, looking over you with apologetic lustful eyes.

“i’m sorry, sweetness. it won’t be much longer i promise,” he kisses your temple, smoothing his fingers over your back.

you smile. “it’s okay, sugu. i don’t mind waiting. i know tonight is important.”

“not as important as taking you home and away from all these damn people,” he presses his lips to your ear, holding you close. “you look so beautiful tonight. i can’t handle much more of this.”

suguru is already on edge because he is so hyper aware of everyone sneaking glances at you, whether they are trying to be discreet or not. he knows you are gorgeous, sickeningly so, but he also knows that his cult members have a tendency to demand, to overstep. he knows that none of them are dumb enough to look at you for longer than half a second, but he’s close to imploding if he doesn’t get you out of here soon

manami approaches your boyfriend momentarily to inform him that an important client desires to speak with him on their way out of the door. with a sigh, suguru reluctantly pulls away from you and tells you he will be right back. his eyes are everywhere when he parts from you with manami, curses lurking behind curtains to keep a sharp gaze on you in case something happens

you head over to the buffet bar while you wait. your boyfriend has been away for no longer than five minutes and you’re looking over the selection to keep to yourself when you feel someone’s presence behind you.

“can i get you something to drink, darling?”

you turn around with furrowed brows, curious as to who within this event would dare to speak to you in such a way, to find an older suited man with a heavy beard and a golden-plated smile. you recognize him as the new member that suguru was ranting to you about just last week, when he first joined

“excuse me?” you ask bitterly, slimming your eyes. you look down and see one of suguru’s curses creeping under the table, slinking an arm around your ankle protectively. the man does not notice of course, and apparently, neither did he notice you gluing yourself to suguru the entire night. he’s as clueless as he is inebriated, and he hasn’t been around long enough to have seen the two of you together in any other setting

“i hate to see a precious little thing like you here alone. how about i keep you some company?”

you’re tempted to tell him who you are right then and there, but why make things easy for him? he was dead the second he approached you, and new members like him should be more mindful of the things around them after promising to devote their loyalties to master geto

“i’m not interested,” you tell him coldly, and when you turn to walk away, his hand reaches for your wrist. the curse around your ankle tightens and your eyes widen.

“come on, honey, don’t be like that”

the room stiffens as eyes stare in awe, the lively chatter dwindling down when the scene before them registers. frightened whispers rouse, the hiss of hidden curses lift, heads turn over to locate the cult leader, and you watch with a knowing smile creep to your lips

suddenly, it’s silent. slow, isolated footsteps echo and tap against the floor as they approach. within seconds, suguru’s figure is towering behind the man before you with a red glint in his eye and half of his face shadowed in murderous darkness. the man takes a second too long to register his presence, his hand still on your wrist. when he finally turns, he jumps, and suguru’s generous mask is nowhere to be found. instead, a cool rage takes his expression

“geto! it’s nice to see you, i haven’t gotten the chance to speak with you yet tonight”

oh, the nerve this imbecile has. suguru is blind with simmering fury as his eyes dart to your wrist. he inhales slowly, chest rising beneath his dark blazer. the man grows increasingly nervous under suguru’s gaze, confused, wondering what is happening

“(y/n),” suguru calls you. “come here”

you feel the curse around you slip away and the man before you loosen his grip in slow realization. you yank your hand away with a sweet smile, pushing past the man to sink into suguru’s open arm for you.

“did he hurt you, pretty girl?” he turns to question you softly

“no, suguru, just grabbed me pretty tight”

his eyes flicker with something dangerous. “i see. i’ll take care of it, okay? then we’re going home so i can take care of you. i'm sick of this night already, aren't you?" you nod, leaning into him when he ducks to press a kiss to your cheek

the man before you visibly reels. “o-oh! shit, geto, is she...? i had no idea-“

“everyone!” suguru is quick to snatch up the man by the back of his neck, cutting him off and pushing him forward harshly, tightening his deadly grip. the man chokes, pupils shrunken with shock and terror. suguru pushes you back slightly to keep you safe behind him. the remaining members watch, horrified, far more familiar with geto’s behaviors than this idiot seemingly is

to mess with his money is to be punished, perhaps even killed, but to dare to mess with you is to be slaughtered

“let this be a lesson to you all. no, a reminder, if you will, because it seems some of you must have forgotten,” suguru smiles. curses leap from their hiding and scatter before the bearded man’s feet, tugging and grabbing at his now dangling legs as suguru holds him into the arm. he thrashes, snot bubbling from his nose in fear

“do not ever lay a filthy hand on my girl. if i catch any one of you staring, speaking, or even thinking about touching her ever again-“

a vile crack resounds within the space as suguru crushes his hand into the man’s throat. he strangles and chokes, writhing about as the curses below jump to devour him. his screams of agony burst out as they tear him limb from limb, ripping apart his flesh and splattering blood over the floor. the members watch in a nauseating sweat, gasping, attempting to conceal their shock of watching a man get seemingly torn apart by the air

suguru drops the twitching corpse to the ground with a resounding splatter once he is dead, his curses rushing to gobble the remains. the dark-haired cult leader smiles kindly and closes his eyes

“-this will be you. do i make myself clear?” he is greeted with silence. “i said do I make myself clear?”

“yes, master geto,” the crowd erupts in eerie unison.

he nods, satisfied. “good. now, you may all take your leave. the evening has come to an end”

the room clears impressively fast, and suguru exhales loudly before turning to you. you’re quick to move into him, pressing your chest to his to thumb away the blood on his chin. you both ignore the mess behind you as manami finds arrangements in the background to clean it up

“i hate these fucking things. i hate these fucking people,” suguru curses, melting his arms around you and holding you close. “i can’t believe some filthy non-sorcerer actually fucking touched you. shit, (y/n), i’m sorry i stepped away. i should’ve just taken you with me. one of my curses came to me as soon as it happened”

“calm down, it’s never been your fault these members are so dumb,” you tell him, holding his face as he looks at you lovingly. “you work so hard for them, baby, and they don’t give you the respect you deserve”

“no, the respect you deserve,” he corrects. “i’m never bringing you to these things ever again. i’m keeping you all to myself from now on. I shouldn’t have even let any of them see you in the first place”

“i wouldn’t have it any other way, sugu. i’ve always been all yours and always will be. y’always keep me safe”

he smiles warmly down at you and leans in to press soft kisses over your face. “fuck, i love you. let’s go. need to take some time loving on you”

yes, suguru’s cult members are greedy. the more he gives to them, the more they try to take from him. they’re obnoxious, vile, arrogant bastards with no sense to guide them aside from geto’s leadership

to be greedy for you, however- his rock, his flame, his life, is to drop to his knees and practically beg for a gruesome death

[a-town-called-hometown]

yippee! apologies if my takes are horrendously bad

my personal take on the matter is that i definitely think the dark worlds can work as a metaphor for escapism without undermining the darkners' personhood. it can be more than one thing, yknow? the darkners are important, their lives matter. and the lightners do go to the dark world as an escape from the problems they face in their own life. but that's not the darkners' whole PURPOSE, yknow? i mean. according to the laws of the universe of deltarune yes darkners' "purpose" is to serve the lightners but like it's not their whole purpose in the STORY.

it's sort of like how, in UNDERTALE, LOVE represents how distant you've become, how easy it is for you to hurt people. but it also literally gives you the power to destroy the world.

i think the biggest reason i believe escapism is at least a part of deltarune's narrative is queen.

queen's whole speech in both of her fights is about how she intends to provide escapism for the lightners (so that they will worship her but also so that they will he happy). she wants to turn the whole world into a dark world, so that everyone can live in bliss and not have to worry about the woes of the light world. she mentions "Staring, Tapping, To Receive Joy. Staring, Tapping, To Avoid Pain." which is like pretty much the definition of escapism

she wants to help Noelle with the problems she faces in the light world ("Noelle. Who Will Be There To Help Her? Her Strange And Sad Searches" and "My One Idea To Help Noelle, Failed") by just... shoving it away for a blissful fantasy world ("Wake? No, She Has Already Awakened Too Much. Let Her Close Her Eyes And Sleep Away, Into A Darker, Darker Dream.")

...i forgot the rest of what i wanted to say!

well first off, thank you for your ask! I'm going to get extremely in depth in my answer, so bear with me here. sorry it took several weeks to write this. the escapism reading of deltarune is pretty deeply entrenched in fandom, and to refute it, I felt it required a full-length essay to completely explain my viewpoint.

yes, "the lightners desire escapism" does not automatically translate to that being the darkners' actual narrative purpose. escapism can be a theme without dehumanizing those who are used in order to escape - in fact, I've read a number of stories that use someone's desire to escape to HIGHLIGHT how they're hurting others in pursuit of that. I believe that toby fox is definitely capable of telling a story about kids having a valid desire to escape, and about them grappling with having inadvertently created a world of real, living people as a result.

(I'll reiterate again that this is not the story arc that generally shows up in fanon. the common consensus is that the game will end in an omori-esque "growing out of" the dark worlds. it's why I have a huge dislike of the fanon escapism reading, given that the darkners are shown as people whose lack of agency parallels kris' own. it would feel cheap if the resolution to that plot was that the darkners were actually never meant to be agents in their own fates. but this is a digression.)

the reason why i DON'T believe that this is a story that toby fox is telling is because of the way the world, themes, and characters are written. put simply, it just doesn't come across as congruent with the story being told.

deltarune's main themes are agency, fate, identity, and control. this is a conflict that shows up in nearly every major character, is baked into the worldbuilding, and is the central struggle involving us, the player. the protagonist of deltarune is literally possessed by us against their will. the darkners are objects that have no choice but to serve and be discarded. over and over again, there is emphasis on roles that characters play - and crucially, roles that are imposed on them.

what would escapism mean, in this thematic context? in real life, escapism can represent any number of things, but in a story, a major narrative theme generally has to dovetail with other major narrative themes in the work. I would argue that escapism in deltarune would likely mean going to a place where characters are able to choose for themselves what roles they embody, or even to discard the notion of roles altogether. a fantasy of control is the only way to escape a reality where you have no agency. and honestly, it's hard to imagine that something could count as an escapist fantasy if you don't even get to choose whether or not you participate in it.

let's talk about kris.

I see a lot of discussions around kris that say that kris goes into the dark worlds to escape. the dark worlds are posited as kris' fantasy of heroism. it's a world where they can seem heroic and cool, a world where they can have friends. this theory makes a decent amount of sense on the surface level, but only until you consider that kris is being controlled in order to go into the dark worlds. and it is not a control that they appear to welcome.

if those worlds represent kris' fantasy, then why don't they get to choose what happens in those fantasies? why are they being controlled by an external force, one that they actively push back against? if it's really an escape, then why does everything about this world reflect their lack of agency? if they really think this world is just a pure fantasy, then why do they care if spamton falls when his strings are cut?

because they're being deliberately obscured to the player, it is hard to say how kris actually feels about many subjects... but I do seriously doubt that they view the dark worlds as an escape. they don't act in a way that is consistent with that. they resist their lack of agency, and what little we do see of their reactions to darkner characters doesn't suggest that they view those characters as part of a disposable fantasy, either. they seem to have complicated feelings on ralsei. and of course, one of their biggest emotional reactions in the game is to the spamton fight. I would argue that that suggests they have empathy for spamton, which is a hard emotional reaction to have if you believe he's just part of a fantasy. not impossible, mind you, but it seems unlikely that kris believes that all this is simply fantasy.

also, considering that snowgrave both actively discredits the idea that the dark worlds are mere fantasy and is actively traumatic for kris... I seriously doubt they'd open another dark world in chapter 3 on a snowgrave run if their motive was purely to escape. on that route, they've seen the damage we can cause in a dark world. they know that berdly has sustained lasting damage due to our actions, assuming he's not outright dead. why would they want to try and "escape" to a place like that again now that they know what can happen?

the only answer is that they have a motive that isn't escapist.

now, as for ralsei... what part does he have to play in all this?

ralsei does play a lot to the fun, fantastical elements of the dark worlds. he delivers the prophecy that kickstarts the adventure. he flatters both kris and susie endlessly when they act appropriately heroic. he welcomes them into the castle and even makes nice rooms for them. he initially seems tailor-made to enable a fantastical experience where no real issues can ever complicate anything, and where the pain of reality can successfully be hidden from. but there's a lot of complications to the idea that he might represent an escapist fantasy.

the first, and what honestly seems the most important to me, is that he doesn't encourage kris and susie to remain in the dark worlds. he is welcoming and kind, but once the adventure is over, he prompts them to return to the light world. he wants them to deal with their more "real" problems like homework. that doesn't feel like he is trying to facilitate escapism in them. a real fantasy would encourage you to stay in it, wouldn't it?

and while ralsei is definitely invested in making sure the lightners are happy, there are always cracks that show. he isn't able to make kris ignore what happened in the spamton fight. he isn't able to convince susie to be peaceful and kind. and in his very essence, he represents a number of uncomfortable ideas. very importantly, he represents a number of uncomfortable ideas to kris.

this probably ain't your first fandom rodeo, so I'm not going to explain all the different ways that ralsei interacts with kris' personal issues. there's plenty of posts on it out there. what i will point out is, once again, it feels odd that a character who seems tailor made to bring up kris' most uncomfortable associations with their lack of agency and their outsider status in their own family would be part of a fantasy of escapism to them. you'd think that they'd prefer something that didn't have an inbuilt hierarchy, a prophecy that denied them autonomy, or especially a person that reminded them how little they fit into hometown.

that doesn't mean kris doesn't care about him at all - it seems very likely that they do. what I mean to say here is that he just seems ill-suited to an escapism reading, both behaviorally and on a conceptual level. it doesn't seem like that's at all part of his servitude towards the lightners.

of course, there is another non-lightner entity that ralsei seems diegetically engineered to serve. but I'll discuss that later.

now as for susie...

yes, susie definitely views the dark worlds as more fun than the light world. and why wouldn't she? the light world sucks for her, and she doesn't seem very aware of the fact that the dark world can also suck. you could definitely make the argument that she views the dark worlds as a fantastical escape from reality... were it not for the fact that she treats her darkner friends with just as much importance as she does kris and noelle.

can someone treat components of an escapist fantasy as real and important? of course. but given deltarune's themes of agency and control, as well as the fact that darkners exist in servitude to the lightners, I feel like you'd have to make escapism tie into forcing others into a lack of agency if you wanted the theme to feel coherent with the rest of the work. this would require susie to be limiting the agency of the darkners around her. and obviously, she doesn't do that. her presence around them might be inherently limiting, just by simple virtue of being a lightner, but she isn't aware of it, and clearly is uncomfortable with the idea of limiting anyone's agency. she encourages ralsei to make choices. and she supports lancer in basically anything he wants to do. her treatment of lancer is integral to chapter 1's narrative, and it seems like that treatment of ralsei is integral to the ongoing narrative as well!

her preference for the dark world feels very rooted in her engagement with it as its own reality. rather than trying to avoid her real-life problems by engaging in a pretense, she seems to simply want to spend time with her friends in a place that isn't cruel to her. she isn't ignoring any of the dark world's problems in service of that, either. she notices when things don't line up. if she thought of it as a fantasy, wouldn't she be inclined to ignore issues that impede the fantasy?

and critically - like kris, she does not intentionally choose her imposed role in the prophecy at first. she steps into the role of bad guy to resist it, but that role is limiting too, and she eventually acquiesces to being a hero. it's never something she's completely on board with, though. she actively pushes back the limitations that the role places on her. I find this important to reiterate when we are discussing the notion of the characters viewing the dark worlds as fantasy.

noelle has a complicated relationship to the dark worlds. susie tells her that it's a dream to make her accept the strange reality she finds herself in, which works well on her. she continues to think of it as a strange dream throughout the chapter. (though, like the others, it is not a 'dream' she entered of her own volition!)

it is also a markedly unpleasant 'dream' at times. she has her agency restricted, is kidnapped, has to evade a controlling monarch, and is even tied up in a weird evangelion cross thing on the hand of a giant robot. it's not purely fun. noelle does like scary things, and while it might be healthy for her to have an experience where she stands up to a controlling adult figure... again, the circumstances make it difficult for me to assume that this is a fantasy she would choose for herself. not impossible, mind you, but it's not the first reading of the situation that comes to mind.

and while she does say she wishes she could dream like this every day in the normal route, that does happen specifically because she was talking to the girl she likes. it makes sense she'd find that pleasant. I don't think that necessarily equates to her finding the dark worlds escapist.

and importantly, this isn't the sentiment that she expresses in every route.

again, there's a lot of analysis on snowgrave, so I won't bother regurgitating it much here. but it's nightmarish for both kris and noelle, and very likely fatal for berdly. noelle needs to believe that the event is a dream, for her own psychological safety, but one of the most important parts of snowgrave...

...is that its events, and the world it took place in, are very, very real.

noelle wants to have the strength to face her problems, both in the regular route and in the snowgrave route. rather than escaping from them, she views the "dream" as a chance to practice dealing with her day-to-day issues. it's just that in the regular route she finds that strength authentically, and in the snowgrave route, that desire is manipulated and pushed until she is forced to kill berdly. she doesn't interpret snowgrave as an escape gone wrong. she views it as a dream that became a nightmare. and those are two extremely different things.

but i haven't even gotten to the biggest thing that undermines the concept that the dark worlds are a metaphor for escapism! which is: this fucking guy is dead wrong about everything.

so full disclaimer - I really love berdly. I think he's slept on a lot in the fandom because he's annoying and weird. which is fair, I suppose, but I think ignoring him hinders a lot of people's understanding of deltarune's overall narrative. because berdly often illustrates a lot of concepts in the game, but his narrative framing as a joke (usually...) prevents the player from taking it completely seriously. he has things to say and ideas to show off, it's just that he's often very loud and kind of dumb in his expression of them. which is kind of the point!

ralsei brings up the idea that the darkners are meant to serve the lightners very seriously in chapter one. by extension, and by way of the literal mechanics involved in a dark world's creation, we can infer that this logic is probably something that also applies to the dark worlds themselves. they are allegedly worlds and characters that only are supposed to fulfill a dream of the lightners. but due to narrative framing and deltarune's themes, we know that that's not the full truth. however dark worlds and darkners are created, they deserve to have their own agency. they can't just exist to fulfill a higher being's wishes.

you know who else undermines that view of the dark worlds? berdly! berdly does!!!!

because berdly is the only lightner in the game so far who does take the dark worlds to be an escapist adventure! he wants to turn cyber world into smartopia. he views this as a chance to be a cool hero. he believes he's going to get the girl, he's going to shape this world to his own liking, and maybe also he's going to get queen to acknowledge him or something so he stops being a forgettable little bluebird. and not only does none of this happen, his steadfast belief that it will happen is continually a joke within the narrative!!

berdly's wishes for uncomplicated escapist fantasy are flat-out denied by the dark worlds themselves. as a lightner, those worlds should be serving him. he should have the power to do whatever he wants within the bounds of an escapist fantasy. these npcs should be singing his praises!

but he doesn't have the power. and this world doesn't sing his praise. because it just isn't an escapist fantasy. he isn't right to view it that way. his wishes for heroism are always going to be thwarted.

so now that I've gotten all that out of the way, let's swing back over to the subject of your original ask. queen.

because, like berdly, queen's entire character arc is about how she's completely wrong about what the lightners actually want.

queen would in fact like nothing more to place the lightners into an escapist fantasy. she believes that that's the best way to serve them and make them happy forever. as a darkner, queen has very much internalized the idea that a lack of control is what actually makes people happy. since darkners have no choice in their destinies and are supposed to be happy in it, and since she personally finds her role as a darkner fulfilling, she believes that that's true of all people everywhere. if you want to make people happy, you just have to remove that pesky personal agency!

so she spends the story trying to force the lightners and particularly noelle into situations where she controls them in order to make them ostensibly happier. she does genuinely believe that this is the right thing to do, but as she finds out eventually, she's just wrong. noelle doesn't want that. queen believes that escapism is why the lightners use the internet... but that's totally wrong too.

while there are other searches mixed in, noelle is trying to use the internet to find her sister. instead of trying to hide from whatever happened, noelle wants to figure it out. queen's thesis about noelle and the lightners is proven wrong even before she personally encounters noelle in the dark world. it's just that queen doesn't realize it due to her limited perspective.

the concept of escapism being brought up with both queen and berdly is not there to say that the dark world is escapist. rather, it's there to say that it isn't. despite the dark worlds being a fantastical place, they are extremely real. to view them as a means of escape is foolhardy at best. you cannot act as though you are above consequences within them.

themes and ideas exist within the story for a sake of an audience. so let's get into the final character I need to discuss here. hopefully this will tie my thesis of deltarune together neatly.

that character is of course us. the player.

when creating a piece of fiction, an astute author will often identify and anticipate an audience's reactions to certain things in their work, and write things in such a way that they elicit the desired reactions. in essence, a writer is directing the "character" of the audience. how we feel and how we are anticipated to react to things is an integral part of nearly every fiction.

that effect is far more overt when dealing with metanarrative fiction that diegetically involves the audience. since the fiction is saying a lot of things about the general 'you,' the audience in aggregate, your reactions to certain things in the story have to be finely cued and anticipated by the author, so that the author can thus commentate on the reactions that you have to the story. the "character" you are assumed to inhabit is posited by the author to have certain traits.

to explain what I mean in plainer terms, I'll use the player of undertale's no mercy route as an example. because undertale is commenting on the way rpgs generally work. the player's behaviors in no mercy are attributed by characters in the story to be the result of us acting like a typical gamer. we kill the characters in the game because we want exp. and more than that, it's because we want to see everything the game has to offer. the role we inhabit in this role-playing game is that of a completionist. you could say that that's assumed to be our "character" in no mercy.

deltarune also posits that certain things are true of its audience. by being written to evoke certain cultural ideas, rpg tropes, and references to undertale, it guarantees that its audience will probably have certain traits, and spends a large amount of its conceptual focus commenting on those traits. one of those traits is nostalgia, which is probably an idea that I'll expound upon in a further essay because it's quite integral to my reading of deltarune. but the main one I mean to discuss here, and why I went off on this tangent about how audiences are dealt with in metafiction, is that we are posited as someone who believes in the logic of certain narratives.

deltarune's writing evokes a lot of portal fantasy narratives. alice in wonderland, narnia, pretty much every story where it's revealed at the end to be all a dream... the story of deltarune superficially resembles a lot of those. this, I think, is responsible for the popularity of the escapism theory. because those stories are often at their end about a child learning to put away fantasy and grow up, people tend to believe that deltarune must be about the same thing. but I truly don't think that deltarune is trying to do anything with that aspect of portal fantasy narratives, at least not directly. its main characters aren't involved in that exact type of coming-of-age arc.

instead, deltarune is very concerned with what happens to characters in fantasy, and specifically fantasy rpgs. if your world is deemed to not matter because it's a dream, what does that mean for you, who has no choice but to live in it? if you are an npc whose role has been predetermined for you via script, then can you ever decide for yourself what you want? what if you want to matter? what if you want to be your own person?

as the major controlling force of deltarune, we are initially cued to believe that deltarune is like a dream. it superficially fulfills so much of what we want from undertale fanon. hometown seems like it's a perfect idyllic town, at least until you start noticing the obvious cracks. and remember what I said about ralsei earlier? he is so reminiscent of asriel, and extremely eager to help us. it's not a stretch to say that making us specifically view deltarune as dreamlike and idyllic is probably part of his purpose in the game.

I would not say that we are posited as escapist. but the idea of escapism as brought up with queen and berdly is meant to strike at the heart of a much deeper idea that deltarune is trying to deconstruct. because if we view deltarune as a dream, escapist or otherwise, then we are inclined to write the internal realities of the characters inside off. the dark world can disappear without it mattering. we can control kris without it mattering. if it's all a dream, what does it matter? why should we care to let its characters go free? aren't we supposed to be in control?

if deltarune is an rpg... what is the significance of us interacting with it?

[queeraang]

sometimes, you dislike a piece of media that is very popular and objectively well made. the popularity of it will only make it more annoying to you. now, the solution is not to then comb through a thing you don’t like to see if you can find something problematic to harp on to prove it's actually bad (you will find it, no human being has ever created perfectly inclusive perfectly inoffensive art) that just tanks the vibe and discourages new art because what's the point if it can never be perfect, also sometimes you spin out of control and start accusing people of real life crimes over like... a niche webseries

as someone with over three decades of 'bad taste' under their belt, allow me to guide you on best responses using a real life example of a popular film series, i couldn't give less of a fuck about. the nolan batman trilogy

block, mute, blacklist, whatever you have to do to avoid seeing this thing on your preferred webbed sites

allow yourself a quiet “ugh this shit” when things slip through the cracks

pick a neutral element of the thing to dislike when people ask “i’m not really a batman fan" "i like more lighthearted superhero movies"

when inevitably someone can't BELIEVE you don't LOVE the best thing EVER MADE, you make it boring to talk about "yeah couldn't get into it" "it's just not my thing"

it also helps if you admit that it is good (i'm so sorry) just not good to you. the metaphor i use is gordon ramsey could make the most immaculate mushroom risotto ever made, but it's still not going to taste good if you don't like mushrooms

change the subject/leave the convo. i don't sit around listening to ppl talk about the dark knight, i ignore the gc for a few minutes, i go get a drink irl, if it's one on one i go "no, but you know i did like birds of prey, have you seen that?"

if someone really won't let up, stop talking to them! a guy who always wants to talk about how i should watch batman is a fucking weird guy to know

vent about this with like minded people SPARINGLY, too much and you'll fall down the "and everyone who does like it is morally bankrupt" hole

crucially, don't do this to other people for stuff you like. you're not the arbiter of taste, your "best movie ever" could be someone else's "if i have to hear about that shit again i'll scream"

like i'm sure i could figure out ways the dark knight trilogy is racist/ableist/etc if i really examined it, but like... i would so much rather just NOT WATCH THREE MOVIES I DON'T FUCKING LIKE

[lunar-years]

Jamie spending so much time with Roy and visibly being so close to Roy that even Roy’s little niece takes note and ensures he’s invited to their Uncle’s Day celebration as Uncle Roy’s best friend, YET Jamie still being surprised, flattered and excited several episodes later when Roy does something as simple as invite him out for a beer, because that’s clearly something that’s unprecedented—the first opportunity to hang out as friends without any guise of it being for football—is just soooooo!! The implications are so silly. Roy definitely spent the entire season framing every interaction he had with Jamie around “work” and “training” even when he really just needed to be around someone (well, specifically around Jamie) because his ass couldn’t just admit he likes having Jamie around. We know from the show he showed up at least once in the evening for “once more before dinner” (Roy…it was literally dark outside and you’d already had Jamie running around twice that day. be forreal)

…so anyway! Roy bringing dinner over to Jamie’s 4 nights a week and it’s really because he doesn’t want to eat alone and having his meals with Jamie is just better, but he still disguises it every time as “well I obviously need to make sure your nutrition is sound and you are eating enough and the right things this is a very important part of your training. I am doing you a crucial service.” Roy bringing Jamie along with him when he watches Phoebe because Phoebe and Jamie adore each other, but Roy “makes” him show her some footie tricks in his back garden and claims it’s because “being able to explain it to someone else is how you become a leader on the team this is very important” or else has him haul phoebes around on his back or whatever as “strength training” to make himself feel better about just wanting Jamie to be there to hang out. Roy following Jamie back home after matches because he needs to “assess his post-match routine and make sure he’s not overdoing it,” but really it’s just them plopped on Jamie’s couch watching bad reality tv and judging it together. And then *obviously* he might as well stay over, so that he can also observe and give Jamie his helpful advice on a morning wake up and stretch routine. Totally necessary!

And look, part of Jamie understands what’s really happening here and at least sort of knows Roy really does like spending time with him outside of just work and training (hence all his best friend teasing on Uncle’s Day), but Jamie is also a bit of an idiot (affectionate) who in equal measure sort of believes he’s just deluding himself and that all of this really has been an elaborate and effective training scheme from Coach Roy.™️ They perplex and bewitch me. s

[unadulteratedsoulsweets]

A DC X DP IDEA #26

History hates Lovers

Imagine dis…

When Batman got lost in time it was said that he made some signs or even some symbols that send a message in the future. For example, a portrait that looked exactly like him or even a cave painting of a bat that looked too modernized to be from the early cavemen.

But it seems that we have forgotten that every change that he made whether it was just standing in a portrait as a background has a severe consequence in the time stream. The butterfly effect rests on the notion that the world is deeply interconnected, such that one small occurrence can influence a much larger complex system. The effect is named after an allegory for chaos theory; it evokes the idea that a small butterfly flapping its wings could, hypothetically, cause a typhoon.

Small changes could result in another and entirely new timeline, whether the changes were small enough that people don’t notice or large enough that people merely conceived it as normal.

But at the end of the day it still changes, so how did the timeline remain stable as it is?

(I am no expert in time travel so don’t get your hopes up, I do enjoy a good time travel or time travel -fix it fic in A03)

…

Bruce didn’t know where and when he is right now. Still weak and disoriented from the consent way he fell from each timeline. One moment he could be in the middle of a group of cavemen and then he was at the edge of a town in the Middle Ages. 

He kept sending messages subtle as they may be, as long as they survived the passage of time and arrived to his future. He just hopes that his teammates can see his messages, especially with the flash in their midst who had both knowledge and experience in time travel.

He tried to fit in every time he tried to send a message as the last thing, he needed was to change the time. 

…

But little did Bruce know the little messages he kept making and sending, despite their subtleness still created a butterfly effect. It makes some of the people in the period who were supposed to be in time to some event pause and take a look at the mysterious symbols and signs that Bruce made. Thus, making them late or even have some delay, thus creating a large domino effect that started small. From insignificant people, people who are just literally background characters who just have a very short greeting or meeting with someone in the event made the entire timeline crack.

Clockwork was looking at the time stream due to the fragile situation at hand. CW knew that this event was crucial for the Red Robin’s growth as a detective and vigilante. But the small cracks are turning into something unchangeable, CW knew that this was the only communication that the Dark Knight could send as well it was his way to get back to his own time.

Yet CW can see the cracks getting larger and larger, with each move that the Dark Knight made creating more holes in his known future. Usually, such events as the Dark Knight's faces don’t create any consequences or even affect the time stream of the said dimension as it was meant to be. An event unavertable in the end is more justifiable than the means.

But due to the Flash family going back in time as well the countless time traveler visitors made the time stream in that dimension week and prone to break in any given time. It was just a surprise to CW that it lasted so long.

CW found a solution in the form of his apprentice/ grandson, Phantom. Despite the young ghost being an Ancient of Space as well as the King of Infinite Realms he still needs a mentor to not only guide him to his new duties as an Ancient but also his responsibilities as the future High King.

Space and Time are two sides of the same coin thus CW ended up being the mentor of the young Phantom. 

Clockwork sent Danny to not only seal in the cracks in the flow of time but also want some great-grandchildren, if you heard the last part then you heard nothing from me.

…

Danny didn’t know he was getting in when Clockwork sent him out to another errand at another time. He should have gotten used to CW’s vague and cryptic errands through time when he was a teen, but as he was sealing another crack from time, he saw something that shouldn’t be in the period. A man clearly from out of time trying and failing to fit in, though he may have fooled the locals but he had been traveling and fixing time since he was in high school. 

At first, he looked perplexed but if CW didn’t mention anything then he won’t do anything.

But slowly Danny realized that whichever period the guy was in, it was where the next set of cracks would be, so Danny decided to follow the guy.

…

Bruce may still be weary and tired from the constant falling through time but even in his tired state can see that there is someone following him.

Every era there that man was, seemingly walking around aimlessly but then he noticed that he kept a good distance away from him.

Eventually, it led to and confrontation between the two males.

…

Danny who explained that despite having the power to travel through time cannot help Bruce as his little messages are creating small cracks in the time stream and are merely there to seal up the cracks, but offers news that he will get back to his own time.

Bruce who is just wishing for human contact that relates to him as well in the verge of going off to the Flash to stop going back in time for another chance to eat a breakfast that tasted better than before.

…

The two began conversing with one another and slowly fell in love.

…

Bruce is the first one to fall hard, Danny whose light-heartedness brought Bruce out of his shell. It had only taken a few conversations with each other to lose his shield around his heart. Danny both accepted both Bruce and Batman within him. Danny’s smile lights up Bruce’s world, at first Bruce tries to hide his feelings to Danny so as not to lose his only companion throughout the ordeal.

…

The two began dancing around their feelings and Bruce in an out of character of him sent a love letter and a poem to Danny when the ghost was needed somewhere else to seal the crack.

As old as I am, I have had the most dreadful experiences in love. I have a very dark past and I'm a damaged soul. My past experiences have groomed me into believing that there's no such thing as true love, but with you, I feel different. You make me fall in love with myself too. You always make me smile, and I'm scared. I'm scared to fall in love and get broken again, I'm scared to give my all, only to be used again, to get shamed and embarrassed. I've seen how careful and caring you are around me, but sometimes you give me a cold shoulder, and it's small things like these that break me. Please bear with me and be fragile. I come from a very painful past where I had to be a woman and have no say. All this love and affection is a little scary to me because I'm not used to it. I'm falling for you and I'm falling hard. I hope our love story has a happy ending. Know that I will always love and cherish you.

 (Mmakoma Kamogelo. "My Confession." Family Friend Poems, September 6, 2016. https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/my-confession-2)

Danny who received the letter burned red from reading the poem to the point his freckles were the only thing prominent on his red face, Danny knew that this man was from the future and couldn't help but feel a little bit insecure. That man, the Batman is someone out of his league but sends out a letter and a poem of his own.

Published by Family Friend Poems September 2016 with permission of the Author.

My love for you is uncontrollable.

 My feelings for you are unstoppable.

 Can't go a day without thinking about you.

 Without you, I'm not complete.

 With you, my heart finds its beat.

 My heart is filled with joy because of your love.

 You are my strength, and without you I'm weak.

 Before you came into my life, I was

 Hopeless, lonely, sad.

 When you showed up, I knew that you were sent to me. (Namely CW, Danny just knew that old Ancient did something)

 You are always here to support me.

 Your smile makes me shy,

 And sometimes I wonder where you have been all this while,

 But I'm just glad that I managed to get you in my life...

 YOU FILL MY HEART WITH JOY!

(Mmakoma Kamogelo. "My Confession." Family Friend Poems, September 6, 2016. https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/my-confession-2)

…

When the two realized both were pinning to one another began sending each other little love notes, in the form of short poems to full-blown letters.

Both males whenever received a letter when one was apart, collected and hid it in a box to reread each stroke of the letter from the other, and whenever they were together, they just spent the entire day basking in each other’s presence.

Their little note exchange didn’t stop whenever Bruce fell to another period, Danny just followed him and started a new exchange mail of letters.

Of course, both used pseudonyms in their letters ranging from initials to fake names using only the letters from their names.

…

When Bruce was saved by Red Robin, he felt relieved as he could now stop falling into another period but another shock as he didn’t get to say goodbye to Danny.

Bruce knew that someday it come, but he was going to offer Danny the future with him. He is going to offer Danny the world, but it seems that it was never meant to be.

Maybe that’s why his past self never met Danny, too disappointed, too dejected to meet him once again.

…

It has been a few months since he came back to his future, it was another family outing organized by Dick.

It was a museum featuring the latest found by archeologists, as Bruce was surveying case to another case, he fell upon a worn-out parchment with his handwriting.

Wide-eyed, Bruce looked closely at the exhibit and found that the description said the letter was about a man named “Brooks” confessing his love in the form of a short poem to a woman named “Daniella” who had the same feelings as him but had other responsibilities to fully go where he is.

Bruce began looking at the other exhibits and there along rows and rows of his letter exchange with Danny from different periods. 

Jason and Tim who were a few cases away from him began having a heated discussion with a stranger about the supposed woman in the letters being a man the entire exchange is between a pair of male couple, and the so-called Historians are hiding the fact that it was between men.

Bruce was about to interfere with the upcoming verbal fight when a stranger beside him commented that “Daniella” probably missed “Brooks” as the last letter and poem to the exchange when “Daniella” noticed that “Brooks” is no longer responding is…

(By E.E. Cummings)

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in

 my heart)I am never without it(anywhere

 I go you go, my dear; and whatever is done

 by only me is your doing, my darling)

                           I fear

 no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet)i want

 no world(for beautiful you are my world, my true)

 and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant

 and whatever a sun will always sing is you

 here is the deepest secret nobody knows

 (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

 and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows

 higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)

 and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

 i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

 (E.E. Cummings. "[i Carry Your Heart With Me(i Carry It In]." Family Friend Poems, https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/i-carry-your-heart-with-me-by-ee-cummings)

Bruce is startled as he doesn’t even notice Danny’s last letter to him when he takes a good look at the stranger…

…

There he is, Danny in his early 30’s looking at him with softness and deep love in his eyes and a gentle smile. As if he hadn’t waited centuries for Bruce to appear once again, and what looked like willing to wait once again for him.

…

PS: If someone out there wanted to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

PPS: As you can see, I have never fallen in love and please mind my poor and lack of love life in my life to relate to my work.

PPPS: I decided to post a bit early, I've got something going on to the actual February 14.

[hijackalx]

I need a breeding fic with Gortash. like him putting you in a mating press and just saying nasty shit like "give me a baby boy" or "your ganna have so many of my fucking babies" holy shit I'm ganna faint he's so mmfg

I WANTED TO WRITE THIS FOR U BUT IT TOOK SO LONG IM SORRY 😭😭💗 also i hope u like spit cuz i saw the opportunity and took it SORRYYYY 😹😹

WORD COUNT: 1.6K

UNDER THE CUT: F!reader, breeding kink, spit, mating press position, some degradation and praise, dom!gortash, you’re basically his baby-making machine, he refers to reader as ‘woman’ and ‘girl’

Gortash doesn't do anything without planning first. He's always a step ahead; he knows what the future holds because he decides it.

And sometimes you wonder where you belong in his grand scheme. What does he have in store for you? All of his meddling behind the scenes— he’s a puppet master, playing your unsuspecting figure by the strings of his jeweled fingers.

It would be sensible to ask, but like a true visionary, he isn’t keen on being questioned. He'll blow you off as sweetly as he can, cradling your face and assuring you that you needn’t worry about such things. Despite his facade, you can tell it bothers him; you can see the irritation behind his gaze.

You'll admit, it can be a little intimidating being with someone like him, simply because you never know just how much of your relationship he's manipulated and plotted into fruition. You're stumbling around in the dark, clinging to his wrist for stability while forgetting that he blindfolded you in the first place.

When the next stepping stone of his intricate plan is revealed, you feel it's all too obvious. You realize the crucial part you play, and how integral it was that he didn't scare you off. No doubt you were plucked from a plethora of suitors, carefully considered for your purpose. You think you should feel flattered.

You lay on the silk sheets of his bed, spread open and waiting. Your bare skin is soft and scented, a flame spreading over the surface as you watch him approach. He crawls over top of you, the mattress giving with each movement. You swallow at his looming presence, how he locks you between his strong arms.

Thumb coming up to tease your bottom lip, he leaves a lingering kiss at the corner of your mouth.

"I'm going to make you the most valuable woman in Faerûn." He smiles before rocking back on his knees. Another kiss is left on your ankle as he props your legs against his broad shoulders. "Isn't that right?"

His features are gentle but his eyes are dark— intense. You can tell this is something he's been waiting for, something he's been heavily anticipating. You wonder how you were never able to pick up on his faltering restraint before; he looks like he's wound as tightly as he can be.

His tip plays at your entrance, smearing precum against your heat. You throb, aching for him, but you can tell by his smirk and the slight tilt to his head that he's waiting for a response.

You nod readily. With that, he angles and inserts himself into you. Gasping, your fingers bunch up the fabric beneath you as he stretches you out inch by inch. "Gods..." you mutter at the feeling of his cock slipping past your walls.

You stare at his face while he watches how your pussy strains around him, admiring how his thick, black hair hangs from his forehead, how the corners of his sloped nose crinkle slightly; the concentrated furrow to his brow, and the small parting to his lips. You did get lucky, didn't you?

Out of all the men who'd want you to carry their child, you were picked by him; a powerful man, body and mind, who is certain to pass on his traits through you.

You struggle to take him in further, the width near his base stretching your opening uncomfortably. Without hesitation, he cups his hands under your knees and pushes them to your chest, resting his weight onto you. He manipulates your figure on instinct— as if it's his, as if he owns you.

Your body is forcibly spread deeper, allowing him to sink into you the rest of the way. The new position almost takes the breath out of you, eliciting a surprised whimper from your lips.

He sighs contently as he fills you fully, the warmth of your needy pussy engulfing his cock. He finally starts to move his hips, rocking you on the mattress as your wet cunt squelches around him.

You gaze up at him through your knees, watching his lip curl at how tightly you grip him. "Fuck," he hisses. "You're perfect. Fucking perfect," he almost seems to be muttering to himself, his eyes unable to break away from where you two meet between your thighs.

He picks up the pace, his heavy balls hitting you with every thrust. You leave behind bits of your essence in his hair, the slick coating his ebony strands.

His hand releases one of your legs to snatch you by your jaw. The aggression catches you off guard, and for a moment you wonder if you've upset him. Under lowered brows, he grins.

"You're going to be my personal little broodmare," he laughs breathily before interrupting himself with a grunt. "And you'll give me as many baby boys as I want— won't you, sweet girl?"

His fingertips leave indents in your skin, and he appears too distracted by pleasure to know how rough he's being. Still, you don't mind— men with gentle hands don't sit on thrones. "M-mhm," you do your best to respond under his hold.

He slips his thumb between your lips, pressing down on your tongue. He coerces your mouth open until it's fully extended, staring down at you.

"Yeah? You like the way that sounds?"

His nail digs deeper into your tongue with every second you take to answer, his expression bordering on wicked. Unable to speak, you nod vigorously.

The corner of his mouth pulls upward, his brows lifting briefly. "I thought you might," he says before leaning over you, encasing your body in his shadow. Without warning, a quick wad of spit comes flying out onto your tongue. "Whore."

The warm substance lands and spreads over your tastebuds. Only after he admires how it looks in your mouth does he release you. He stares down at you expectantly, so you hold his gaze and swallow.

As he watches your throat bob, you feel his cock twitch inside you, a low groan vibrating in his chest.

Your body writhes with want beneath him, with need. You feel the way your cunt repeatedly tightens around him, trying to draw out his orgasm.

He can feel it too, and you know he won't last much longer. Soon he'll be filling you full of his cum— again, and again, and again— ensuring that, without a doubt, you'll be pregnant. You'll carry his heirs, securing his rulership with his bloodline.

You never saw yourself as mere breeding stock before. And you most certainly never saw yourself enjoying the thought of it. It sends a surge of heat through your body, a tremble through your limbs. You yearn to be of use to him— to his success.

"P-please," you stutter, gripping his bicep tightly. "Come inside of me. I need you to come, please—" Your words come out quickly and almost incoherent, stumbling over your own burning desire. You need to feel his thick, white seed lacing your walls.

He almost coos at how ready you are for him. "Fuck, I love hearing you talk like that."

His hand slips down the back of your thigh so that his thumb can toy with your clit. His touch isn't the softest, and it makes your sensitive body jolt with every rub. Still, the timing of it has you questioning if he's rewarding you for your begging. You wouldn't put it past him to condition you that way, so that your cunt's always desperate to be filled.

He places his hands on either side of your head, hooking your legs over his elbows. His face is now inches from yours, and you can see the lustful haze over his stare. It's dark, almost wolfish, but it only excites you.

You're so ready for him to finish, just so he can do this all over again.

You wrap your arms over his muscular shoulders, holding onto him while he fucks you. Your body is at his mercy in your vulnerable position, completely pliant to his every whim. You almost shiver at the thought— not from unease, but arousal. Your eyes flutter shut.

The bed creaks with his tempo, mirroring the needy movement of his hips. His breathing is uneven and wavering by your ear, accompanied by the occasional grunt or moan. The sounds of his pleasure send a wave of excitement through you, and you can tell by the rapid snaps of his pelvis that he's close.

Your voice evolves into whimpers as you feel his orgasm approaching, anticipating being filled with a steady stream of cum. With a hiss through gritted teeth, he slams into you hard, pumping white ropes into your cunt. You rhythmically tighten around him, milking him for every last drop.

The feeling of him filling you up makes your limbs buzz with exhilaration, and the knot in your core finally snaps. You tear and claw at his back while he ungracefully rides out his own orgasm, pushing his seed into you further and further.

After his final sloppy thrusts, his body stills. He rests above you, the arms supporting him tense and slightly weary. His breaths fan your cheek, warm and ragged, indicative of his high. You would almost think he was spent, if it weren’t for the fact that he still hasn’t pulled out of you.

You focus on the way his cum settles inside you, threatening to leak. It’s so much— you find it hard to imagine fitting more. Still, he smiles down at you with an endearing obstinance that says he’ll find a way.

You realize you’re in for a long night.

[slashbitch2]

i'll follow you down 'til the sound of my voice will haunt you

Summary: reeling from the sting of rejection, you're surprised when a certain witch approaches you with a dangerous offer Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader TW: none actually W.C: 3k words I believe

Autumn had fallen across Salem like a blanket, wrapping its way around the trees and shaking until every golden-brown leaf had fallen to the damp ground below. The leaves began to meld back into the Earth from whence they came, and the smell of rot which accompanied such a time filled your nose: fresh and earthy. It was the smell of home. The damp air settled upon your clothes and chilled you to the bone, while leaves crunched underfoot, clinging to your mud-caked boots. Yet you marched diligently on.

The bucked swung by your side with each step, rusty joints at the handle creaking into the empty night air. The forest was always eerie after the sun had set, and you had regretted volunteering to go and get water for the coven the very minute the words left your mouth. Truth be told, you had seized the opportunity to escape, to continue avoiding a certain brunette witch who had been eyeing you up all evening.

Somewhere in the far distance, an owl screeched and you jolted, fist instinctively tightening around the metallic handle of the bucket and causing pain to shoot through your hand.

You forced yourself to stand still for a second and took in a deep gulping breath, feeling the fresh air enter your body and soothe your nerves.

It was a new moon tonight, and so the usual silvery light illuminating the woodland was lacking. It also meant it was an important night for the coven, and so you ought to hurry. You resumed your original pace to the well along the outskirts of a nearby town, memory guiding your movement. The nearby town was rather suspicious of your coven’s activity, and thus the only opportunity to access this source of water was under the cover of darkness.

Tonight, the water was crucial. On every new moon, the entire coven gathered together to cast a protective spell over the land, and you could imagine them all sitting around the fire, patiently awaiting your return.

Between the silhouettes of the trees, you caught sight of warm, orange light emanating from the distance. You were nearing the town. Squinting, you paused to peer around, trying to remember where the well was situated. It was so dark you could barely make out where the ground merged into the roots of each tree. You would have to be careful not to trip. Any sound could alert the dogs which vigilantly guarded the town, and in turn, call attention to you.

You hesitantly stepped forward, fixated on the distant light source like a moth to a flame. The lanterns which hung from each house roughly guided you, promising that the well would be somewhere close. A twig snapped underfoot, and you froze, scrunching your eyes closed and waiting with bated breath for the telltale sound of violent barks and howls.

A beat passed and nothing. You reluctantly opened your eyes, your head whipping around to check the forest remained still. Each oddly shaped tree or slight movement in the corner of your eyes held your attention for a second longer, your anxiety running rampant and conjuring impossible images into your mind.

You shook these impossibilities away, and deciding all was clear, you turned to face forward once more, only to crash directly into something.

Gasping was all you could do not to scream at the sudden intrusion. You stumbled backwards, realising it wasn’t something- rather someone blocking your path. The person reached out to grab hold of your arms, steadying you.

She shushed you, and before you could even adjust to the darkness and make out her face, you already recognised her. It was Agatha Harkness who stood before you, that particularly annoying, brunette witch you had been trying to avoid.

“Careful now.” Agatha admonished, though you could hear the smirk in her voice.

You exhaled, feeling your fear melt away into annoyance. “You scared me, Agatha.” You shook off her hold, immediately missing the heat of her hands against your clothed skin.

“Scared, why? What’s out here that a powerful witch like yourself wouldn’t be able to handle?”

The way she emphasised the word 'powerful' made you frown. You knew she was trying to flatter you, though you didn’t understand why just yet.

“An angry mob from the village.” You answered after a beat.

“Please.” Agatha scoffed. “It’s not that you couldn’t handle them, you just wouldn’t want to.”

You rolled your eyes at her subtle jab. Agatha was more inclined to use her magic against people, whereas you didn’t think it was a fair fight. She always seemed to believe there was some kind of competition between you, as two witches of the same age who had cultivated a similar level of power. Therefore, anything she perceived as a weakness, she would frequently remind you of.

Refusing to let her aggravate you any further, you changed the topic. “What do you want?”

“I just want to talk.” Agatha shrugged, and before you could react, she reached out, her hand brushing past your face to your hair, gently twirling a strand around her finger. “You know, girl to girl, witch to witch.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “Sinner to sinner.”

The lack of distance between you, the soft touch, the secretive tone to her voice; it was almost affectionate, perhaps seductive. But you knew better than to fall for her act. This was Agatha Harkness, after all.

“Well, too bad 'cause I really don’t want to talk to you.” You said simply, hoping she would pick up on the finality you had imbued within your words. Instead of waiting for a response, you sidestepped and pushed past her, determined to finish the job you had been tasked.

“That wasn’t the case a few nights ago,” Agatha called out.

You cringed first at the volume of her voice, not having forgotten how close you were to the town, and then again upon taking into consideration the meaning behind her words. You stopped, inhaled slowly and forced your tense shoulders to relax. Then, in a quieter tone, “Can we please just pretend that never happened?”

There was a rustling behind you as Agatha drew closer. “Sure.” She responded simply, though the word was anything but simple to you.

As much as you loathed how Agatha had treated you, how carelessly she had played with your heart, you couldn’t forget how well you understood her. Like now, at this moment you recognised the mask of indifference in her voice, hiding beneath it a vulnerable admission of guilt, sadness even. You watched with shallow breath as she pivoted slowly to stand in front of you, her attention ever fixed on you, observing your reaction.

“We won’t talk about it if that’s what you want.” Her eyes searched yours, ice cold even in the lightless forest. “But I didn’t follow you out here for a heart-to-heart.”

You paused, frowning. “Then why did you?

“Because I need you”

She didn’t hesitate. She didn’t hide behind her usual cocky attitude. Her statement was simple and true, sufficient to steal your breath away.

“I’m forming a group- well, a coven within a coven I guess you could say.” Agatha continued, quick to move past the tension, though you were still reeling from it.

Agatha pursed her lips thoughtfully, as if considering each individual word and how you might respond. Whatever she was about to say, this was big.

“I want to walk the Witches Road.”

“Are you serious?” You spluttered out in disbelief, then remembering to keep your voice down, added, “That’s suicide!”

The Witches Road was notorious. Infamous. A suicide mission you all had been warned about from the very moment you started to learn the craft. To hear that Agatha planned on confronting this risk head-on was hardly surprising, but you thought she was smarter than that. You were disappointed in her. That she would think of doing such a thing, that she would believe even for a second that you were stupid enough to join.

“Not for us.” Agatha smiled sinisterly. “Maybe the others… but we’re strong. Stronger than any other witch in this coven. We can do better.” She implored, her hand snapping out to grasp your own free one, bringing it toward her chest. “So, what’d you say?”

Her hand was cold, her grip unrelenting, yet as she pressed you closer, you swore you could feel her heart pounding in her chest. It was endearing, and still, you weren’t a fool.

“Who are the others?” You questioned instead, partly deflecting having to answer, and partly in disbelief that anyone would even hear Agatha’s proposal out, let alone agree to join.

She quirked an eyebrow. “Does it matter?”

“Yes.” You challenged. “Have other witches actually signed up for this?”

“Oh. You’d be surprised!” Agatha sneered. “Loads of them, queueing up around the block to be part of my team.” Her expression morphed into one of excitement, though you guessed she was merely teasing.

“Huh, really?”

“You bet. I can be persuasive when I want to.”

“Irritating more like.”

“Maybe.” Agatha rolled her eyes fondly, unable to hide the way the corners of her lips twitched upwards before taking on a more serious straight line. “But look, I’m not going to do this without you, Y/N.”

This gave you pause, and then, a sense of indignant frustration.

“Why? Isn’t the all-powerful Agatha usually a solo act? What was it you said? You don’t want anyone tying you down?” You spat.

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about the other night.”  She said, slowly, seemingly waiting to see how you would react.

The other night. When you had taken a chance, and it hadn’t worked out. When, in a moment of bravery, you had been honest with yourself, with Agatha, about how you truly felt, only to be met by derision and cruel laughter. The other night, when upon realising you were serious, she had tried to soothe your hurt feelings, but by that point, you had lingered long enough in your humiliation, choosing instead to turn and run. You would rather surrender to spending the rest of your long, long life avoiding Agatha than face that again.

“You’re right.” You sighed. “But I’m also not going to talk about, or even entertain this idea any further” You tugged your hand out of her grip like it had scorched you. “Actually, idea’s a strong word. I don’t think you’ve put any real thought into this.”

Agatha had the sense to look at least a bit ashamed of her suggestion and paused for a moment, as around you, the wind picked up, carrying leaves through the air and rustling the trees. It was as though the forest had come alive for a second, filling the silence between you. Shivering, you wrapped your cloak tighter against yourself, loathing how you regretted having been so quick to put Agatha down. She looked disheartened.

“Look…” When Agatha spoke at last, you were unnerved to see how she didn’t meet your eyes. “When I said I wouldn’t do this without you, that’s not strictly true… I already promised the others we’d meet in the clearing when the sun rises.”

“What?!” You exclaimed, your annoyance being instantaneously overpowered by a mix of anger and panic at this sudden revelation.

“So-“ She interrupted, throwing her hands in the air to pacify your outburst. “Just take your time to think about it. Either you’re in or you’re out and either way, that’s fine.”

“Ohh, a whole half a night to think about it. Very generous as always Agatha.” You spat, incredulous that she would leave you so little time to decide, should you even have entertained the idea… Not that you were thinking about it. Nope. Not at all.

“Well, I wanted to ask you first, but you kept running off!” She explained- or rather argued, as of course, she would pin the blame on you and your hurt feelings rather than take responsibility.

“I wonder why.” You muttered, irritably folding your arms.

“Okay.” Agatha mirrored your pose, crossing her arms across her chest. “I know you said you didn’t want to talk about it, but clearly this,” she gestured between the both of you, “needs to be addressed.”

“I don’t think-“

“No.” She interrupted, harsh and unforgiving of your clear reluctance. “I know I wasn’t exactly considerate to you, maybe a little meaner than I should’ve been.”

“That’s an understatement.“

“But regardless of what I said then, I want you by my side now. Walking the road, together-“

“So, you only want me when it’s convenient? When you need my help.” You snarked. “How lovely of you to say, I feel so much better already!”

“I won’t force you to do anything.” She continued, ignoring your comments. “Nor can I promise we’ll return. But I think we have a hell of a lot more of a chance if we’re together.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, listening to her try to reason with you. Not that it would ever work. No way. The Witches Road was suicide, and Agatha was hardly much better herself. “You’re saying this like I’d ever consider joining you.” You said with a shrug.

Agatha smiled suddenly, like you’d said something hilarious, then averted her gaze down for a beat before stepping closer. A lot closer, invading your personal space and causing all rationality to flee your mind. And yet, you didn’t step back. She leaned forward, and you felt her breath fan across your cheek. “You’re an idiot if you don’t see the opportunity in all this.” Her voice was raspy, barely above a whisper. She was so close, her gaze flickering across your face like she could read your every micro-expression or movement.

Your inner logicality screamed at you to tell her no, you would not be joining her, nor did you ever want to see her again. That she should back up, walk away and never look back.

Every other fibre of your being dreamt of the possibilities, imagined how her lips would feel against your own, how her fingertips would trace across your skin. Your heart betrayed you. It urged you to lean in.

Agatha’s normally ice-cold eyes were softer as they darted down to your lips, though you couldn’t be sure that you hadn’t imagined it. After how she had responded to your confession, there was no way she could harbour any kind of feelings towards you beyond that of mild irritation and perhaps a tad bit of insecurity.

Reluctantly, you stepped back.

Agatha’s eyebrows scrunched up, her lips curling in displeasure as another gust of wind blew, chilling the newfound space between you.

While you were certain Agatha’s one goal in life was to rile you up, it seemed as though you had managed to do the same to her this one time. She looked annoyed, slightly sad and clearly disappointed.

In spite of everything, you revelled in this power you currently held over her. “I guess I’ll see you around Agatha. Good luck with your death wish.” Deciding to take this unusual superiority as an opportunity, you sidestepped her to continue on, not daring to glance back as you walked through the woods.

Or maybe you did. Just once. And maybe it was the darkness, or your mind playing tricks on you, but you could’ve sworn Agatha stayed standing there, watching to ensure you safely accessed the well without alerting the townspeople.

But when you began your journey home, she was nowhere to be seen.

...

As the night wore on, you found your mind didn’t cease.

Agatha’s eyes were constantly on you, carrying an indecipherable weight. You wondered if, perhaps, this would be the last time you’d ever see her. If she would step foot on the Witches Road and disappear from your life forever.

This idea should’ve brought you some form of peace, and yet, it didn’t

How could you go on knowing that Agatha was condemning herself to death, and you weren’t there to witness it? Or even, put a stop to it.

Agatha Harkness was your burden to carry. She was irresponsible, power-hungry and manipulative, and yet, you couldn’t find it within yourself to let her walk the road alone. You wouldn’t let her go thinking that you didn’t care.

You had put on an act to try and protect yourself, something to ease your heart, still reeling from her rejection. But you knew it was futile to try and keep it up. Whether you joined her to walk the road or not, Agatha had already caused you enough pain. And so, what the hell, you might as well indulge in her company a little more.

Halfway through the coven’s ceremony, placing protective runes upon the land, you noticed Agatha slip away from the crowd, fixing you with one final glance before she disappeared into the night.

You waited a little longer, savouring what would possibly be your last time as part of the coven. And then, as you noticed the sky take on a purplish hue signifying that the sun was fast approaching the horizon, you stood, numbly walking in the direction of the clearing Agatha had referred to.

Your mind was empty when you caught sight of a group forming a circle in the middle of the field. You didn’t bother to try and catch a glimpse of anyone’s face, knowing that soon they would reveal themselves, and you would be trapped, relying upon each other on the Witches Road. Fresh dew glistened upon the grass in the morning light, the damp seeping into your boots as you approached. It had been a long night already, and you longed for your bed.

And then you caught sight of Agatha, and she smiled, soft and scared, and all your problems seemingly melted away.

...

notes: bonus points if anyone can name the song lyrics i used as a title cause im too lazy to be original

hope you enjoyed :)

[faatxma]

Meadow Garden

Pairing: King George III x Reader

Synopsis: With love crucial pain usually follows so with this couple

Warnings: Heartbreak

Part. II Part.III

What you didn’t expect was King George shirtless working next to your father shoving straw. Before you could even register everything, your father made eye contact with you waving you over to them.

'Hello Father' you said when you walked over to him quietly playing around with your fingers something you did when you got nervous.

'Your Majesty' you said curtsying to him getting his attention. His back was facing you, but when he turned around it seemed like he froze. George was never someone to get shocked over someone. But when he saw you standing there his breath hitched. You were gorgeous, a rare jewel in his eyes. He wonders why he has never seen you around. Someone like you would’ve gotten his attention in a second.

'Hello….' he said smiling to you, wiping his dirty hands on his linen shirt. He jumped of the carriage making his way to you.

'This is my daughter your Majesty' your father said motioning you to come closer.

'Well it’s nice to meet you' he said you blushed while looking at his very handsome face. But to be honest his chest was very distracting.

‘You as well your Maje-' he interrupted you before you could finish your sentence.

'Call me George. Just George'

You could say this encounter changed everything for the better but also for the worse.

It’s been six months since you guys met and something beautiful flourished in terms of your feelings for each other. He tried to meet you regularly portraying it as we wanted to work with your father. But your father could see through it easily with how often he mentioned you. It didn’t take long for him to ask you on a walk through the Meadow Garden. You happily accepted his invitation, and the time was also perfect since it was nearing sunset. You guys spoke for hours not noticing that is already became dark. You could see the stars clearly which left you in awe.

'Do you like stars?' He asked you grazing his arm with yours. All you could do was nod happily, this made him want to kiss you so bad. He tried to resist but he couldn’t.

'Can I kiss you?' he whispered, but you could hear him loud and clear.

'George' you muttered shockingly. It was dark but due to the moon you could see his face perfectly. The way his eyes were looking at you, made your heart quicken.

'Kiss me' you said and he didn’t waste any time and leaned down to you, pressing his lips to yours. This was your first kiss and he could feel it. The way you shyly responded, and you clenching your fists into his shirt spoke volume.

'Be my lover'

'I’d love to' you smiled hugging him.

Months passed and you couldn’t be happier, your studies were going along and you and George were as happy as you guys could be.

'George stop it what If someone sees us.' You said looking around you. He grabbed you by your waist pulling you behind the horse stable. Before you could react his warm lips were placed onto yours. You moaned grabbing his cheeks press yourself closer to him.

'I love you' he said pressing his forehead to yours, caressing your right cheek tenderly. All you could do was smile

'I love you more' you said pecking his nose 'thats impossible my beautiful jewel' he muttered placing gentle pecks along side your neckline. You moaned quietly trying to unbutton his shirt hastily. But you guys were interrupted by something you never thought you would hear.

'Have you heard about the King and his arranged marriage to the daughter of a German Duke' one of the voices said.

Your breathe hitched and it felt like you were frozen in time. You didn’t dare to look up to George hoping everything you heard was a bad dream or a rumor amongst the staff.

'That‘s what I also heard, and it seems like the wedding will go down in a couple of days.'

You released your hands slowly from George’s shirt, keeping your eyes to the floor.'

'It was good to be true.' You mumbled

'My lov-'

'Please do your duty Georgie be a good king to your people and a good husband to your wife.' You said trying to suppress your tears, after all you were just the Royal gardeners daughter.

'Stop, I won’t hear any of this' he yelled loudly, you didn’t flinch cause it wasn’t the first time. You knew it wasn’t towards you and all he wanted was you to finally let him love you with everything he had.

'I love you, I breathe for you, all I want is you and I won’t accept anything or anyone else.' He mumbled sadly.

'Don’t make it harder than it is George I beg you.'

'I’ll and I won’t stop, I can be myself when I’m near you. This arranged marriage won’t stop me from loving you.' He said intertwining your hands together.

'Is it really love? You kept this from me George. Is this between us really love?' you asked him pulling your out of his grasp.

'Please don’t say that, you don’t mean it.' Tears were running down his cheeks and all you could do was wipe them away.

'I think I should go your Majesty' you whispered sadly you placed a delicate kiss onto his forehead, curtsying before you left.

All you could hear were the cries of a broken man.

'Are you alright my child' your father asked concerned. Since the talk with George days ago you haven’t seen him. You basically refused to see him, he made sure to make Reynolds deliver his letters to you. But you couldn’t find the courage to open them.

'I’m fine father' you said while washing the laundry. Today was the royal wedding from what you heard, the queen was from northern Germany and only 17 years old.

'I know that you aren’t fine, and I know it has something to do with King George' you stopped what you were doing. You could never lie to your father he could see right through you.

'It hurts' you whispered.

'My heart hurts.' you said starting to cry, you couldn’t breath properly when he wasn’t near you. You sometime wished that you never meet him and kept your distance.

You felt your father pulling you up into his embrace, he didn’t say anything and you were thankful for that.

Why was it so hard to breathe when he was not near?'

[melanieph321]

If you’re writing for Riccardo calafiori i have a lil req! You work for bologna and always have to do media work with him but you’re not a fan of his attitude and make that known and in return he makes it known he doesn’t like you. Then one night you guys are at a charity event and you’re both drinking when you shouldn’t be then one thing leads to another and you’re fucking each other in one of the empty rooms of the hall😼

This is sooo good!!! 🤭🤭🤭

SEVEN DAYS OF REQUESTS 3.0

(DAY 2)

Riccardo Calafiori x Reader - Difficult Part 1/3

Part 2 Part 3

Enjoy!

Post-match interviews, just the words post-match interviews, brought you nightmares as a media manager for Bologna FC.

The preparations, as well as the handling of Italian media, was nothing your professors at school could have ever prepared you for. Neither could they have anticipated the sheer pain in the ass it would be to work with someone like Riccardo Calafiori.

"Who do I get?" You asked your boss, a native Bolognian, and the media principal for the team. He was handing out spreadsheets to each of your colleges, preparing them for the questions the different journalist and their publication may want to ask the players. It was a standard procedure after any game. However, as your boss got to you, there were no more sheets for him to hand out. Instead, he slipped you a pink Post-It note that read - Keep him happy. Keep it short.

"What's this?" You frowned reading the note.

"You're notes."

"But for who? Surely I'm gonna need a bit more than....."

"Y/N." You're boss sighed. "I'm giving you the responsibility of Calafiori tonight. Please do me the favor and make the interviews go as smooth as possible, okay?"

"Calafiori?" You protested. "I'm sorry, sir, but you've got to be kidding me, right? Bologna just lost 3-0 to Fiorentina FC."

"And let's not forget Calafiori's red card." Your boss wiped the sweat of his shiney forhead. "Look, I know that it's not ideal. But the media is eager to speak to him. Let's just make his encounter with the press as quick and snooth as possible. No distractions."

"No. I refuse."

"Please, Y/N. You've done so well before. Why not do it again? Just this one?"

It was true. The last time you had to deal with Riccardo Calafiori and his sharp temperament was in a similar context. Bologna had just been knocked out of Copa Italia after an unnecessary tackle made by Calafiori, who injured a player, which resulted in stoppage time. Enough stoppage time for Bologna to concede a late goal, ultimately losing the crucial game. Calafiori had arrived at the teams dressing room and set out to break anything in his path. That is, until you convinced him to go ahead with his post-match interviews in order to be the first player to be let go for the day. To your suprise, Calafiori agreed to your terms without arguing any further. This achievement certainly earned you some points with your boss. However, something told you that this time would be different.

You watched Bologna players flee their own locker room at the sight of a fuming Calafiori. He made his way down the stadium tunnel, hair covering his face like a dark and unraveling vail. He marched on, into the locker room, slamming the door behind him.

"How about a five percent raise on your salary?" Your boss said, his gaze also fixiated down the tunnel.

"Ten."

"Five, plus an invite to the teams next charity event in Milano."

"Deal."

"Grazie mille!"

It was set. You stuffed the Post-it note in the pocket of your jeans and made your way to the players' locker room. Surely this time couldn't be worse than the last? People change, don't they?

There was only one way to find out.

Part 2 Part 3

[utilitycaster]

I was writing up a whole long stream of consciousness rant for the drafts, as I am wont to do, and without rewriting the whole thing here's something I realized.

There's like, three main flattened archetypes I see fandoms (FANDOMS. NOT NECESSARILY ORIGINAL CREATORS. FREQUENTLY NOT ORIGINAL CREATORS. I CANNOT MAKE THIS MORE CLEAR) place on white male characters:

Tough and Masculine (or Brilliant) Man Who Is Always Correct (often coming from cis straight white men; whether he is Tough or Brilliant depends on if they're a Military Bro or a Tech Bro)

Sad Boy Poor Little Meow Meow Whose Trauma Means He Cannot Be Wrong (rather more popular than the former with the Tumblr crowd)

Brooding Dom With Dark Past (if you've ever gone into the Percival de Rolo tags and used the block button like a machete on a swath of x reader fics, this one is immediately familar)

and to be clear the same character can be the recipient of all three of these from different groups; the latter two often even overlap among the same fans. Anyway it is extremely funny to me that of the men of the Veilguard companions, Emmrich doesn't really fall into this at all given he's way too polite and pleasant for the former and lacking in sufficient trauma for the latter two; and a lot of people are throwing various fits that Lucanis ABSOLUTELY isn't the third category and frankly isn't even the second, since if you exacerbate his trauma he just becomes cold and if you work on healing it his true self (a fucking dork) emerges AND because his entire situation is "I have limited expertise, let's leave the planning to someone else, I'm the dagger guy." On the other hand Davrin is an OBVIOUS candidate for the first one, but even if the story hadn't been like "nice infallible stronghold you got there, Warden, would be a shame if something were to happen to it" as the act one finale, he is also, crucially, a black man, so really all three of these irritating archetypes are impossible to place and while I do not think creators should necessarily try to avoid them since people will, as stated before, do this even if it's entirely unsupported by the text, it is very fun for me that it's actually fucking impossible to twist the text to do this without abandoning it altogether.