#or have 'obviously' never been in fandom or whatever

[kerink]

since it seems i'm being a bit of a hater this morning i'll say this too: it's really obvious a lot of the GF fandom has no idea about institutionalization and forced mental health hospitalization. the vast majority of what i've seen, and the way a lot of people talk about it, makes me think the prison system is the model that's being used, and that's not correct.

i'm a psychologist with 13 years of experience in the field, and while i've personally only worked with partially hospitalized patients (e.g., come to the hospital when it opens, spend all day in treatment, then go home at close for 5 days/week) and intensive outpatient (e.g., same as above but 3 days/week), i routinely work with folks who have a 5150/5250 history. i also know someone in my personal life who has been 5250'd.

every single time i talk to them about their experience i make sure to ask did they find it helpful, harmful, or neutral. for involuntary hospitalization, almost everyone says it's harmful or neutral, very few people involuntarily hospitalized say they found it helpful. and the people who were voluntarily hospitalized are about a 50/50 split on finding it helpful or harmful.

the primary reasons people cite as it having been an unhelpful experience were:

1) the patient didn't think they needed to be there. (typically this is because there was a misunderstanding/miscommunication between them and either the police or their healthcare provider, so they ended up appearing higher risk and more acute than they actually were.)

2) the ward was too broadly mixed between high acute/risk and lower acute/risk, such that folks who were lower risk/acute and more willing to receive treatment did not get treatment because the folks with higher baseline needs were given more attention. (which makes sense, people with more baseline needs have more baseline needs. this is more a comment on how wards should be better segregated and hospitals need more resources.)

3A) there was no individual therapy, or patients couldn't receive individual therapy unless they took medications.

3B) patients are often coerced into taking medication. i've heard all sorts of horror stories on this from being denied release, to being given other people's medications, to having horrible side effects which get misconstrued as symptoms which escalate their perceived care needs, to never being told what they're taking or why.

4) group therapy is unhelpful both because of the wide mix of presentations but also because of the mix of folks who want treatment and those who don't. (anyone trained in providing group therapy would know that you cannot do this, it's a contraindication for every form of group therapy and completely tanks its effectiveness.)

5) patients are often denied visits from their primary support people (e.g., parents and partners) because anyone who is conceivably a trigger is denied visitation.

there are obviously as many reasons people find it unhelpful as there are people in hospitals, but in my experience these are the most commonly cited ones. typically the main reason folks find it helpful is it gives them a break from their stressors or gets them away from their abusers, which is such a no shit sherlock statement it doesn't even get a bullet point.

if you're going to write about the theraprism, i beg you to research what MH hospitals are like and what patients have to say about them. while also understanding that whatever source you use is going to be biased (remember: the people who write reviews are either 10/10 or 0/10).

additionally, i encourage you to think about how employees at MH hospitals think.

pause for a moment and consider me, keri, hi how are you. i'm anti-institutionalization both for prisons and MH, i picked a career where my goal was to help people, and yet one of the legal requirements for my job is that i institutionalize people under certain circumstances. how do you think that makes me feel? what do you think i have to consider when working with high risk/acute individuals? what sort of mental workflow must i have created in order to provide the maximum level of care with the minimum level of suffering? how do you think it makes me feel when i have to call in welfare checks for folks i think are going to hurt themselves?

i don't even work with any level of inpatient anymore, just outpatient. imagine how folks on inpatient wards feel, how they think, how they have been worn down by a system that doesn't care and won't pay for it. where the only goal is keep people safe and sometimes you have to get your hands dirty to do it. can you imagine looking another human being in the eye as you strap them down and force medication upon them as they beg you not to? what does that do to a person, what mental gymnastics do they have to do in order to do that?

when you come from the position that every person in the system, from employee to patient, is a human being with their own thoughts, feelings, emotions, and goals, you can build a richer, more humane story.

the theraprism is not an evil institution that seeks to torture those with bad karma because they deserve it. it's not hell. but is it possible that due to poor training, provider burnout, outdated science, under funding, overpopulation, and working with beings who don't want to be there and are very dangerous it could lead to people being tortured? even if that's not the goal or the mission statement? or hell, even if that was not the intention of the treatment; one man's exposure therapy is another man's needless cruelty.

do the employees, who are all medical and mental health staff, see themselves as guardian angels? as jiminy cricket? guiding the multiverse's worst of the worst into being healthier? kinder? giving them a second chance at a softer, more gentle, more loving life? but people don't want to be told how to be, and they certainly don't want to stop being themselves. would you be willing to change everything about you? especially if you know that if you do you die at the end of it?

the theraprism can be a kind, loving, gentle place of healing and second chances and also a cruel, unforgiving, inconsiderate, house of horrors. because it's actually neither of those things. it's a hospital.

medical hospitals are exactly the same: understaffed, underfunded, with providers who think they know best. some patients accept the help their given, understanding they need it to get better and know less than their doctor does. some people want to control every aspect of their treatment, want to know and understand, want to have a say, will accept some aspects and reject others. some people are just scared of hospitals in general and even if they know they need to be there, being there is psychologically damaging.

hospitals are neutral, treatments are only approved if they have proven efficacy and fall within certain ethical guidelines. that doesn't make them good or bad, because something good to one person is bad to another.

that's why in MH we work in a provider-patient collaboration model. my personal philosophy for treatment is i know the books and the patient knows the experience and the patient and i meet in the middle. they teach me the experience and i teach them the books.

but what happens when a patient doesn't want to participate? what happens when they have to participate? what happens when the provider has to participate?

when i was working inpatient substance use treatment it was fucking nightmarish for me whenever i would have to meet with my patient who didn't want to be there but had to. he had to come to treatment, and i had to provide treatment, or we both would be in trouble. neither of us had a good time, but sadly i had to pretend i was. because i'm a professional and that's my job. what do you think that looked like to him? felt like to him? i didn't want to twist his arm or force him to talk or make him listen, but i had to show i did something with our hour.

what is bill's therapist going through? what are any of the therapists going through?

anyway. i don't have an ending point in mind. it's just that MH hospitals are not medical hospitals and they aren't prisons and you can't extrapolate what a MH hospital is like just because you've researched medical hospitals and prisons. they're not the same at all. and you need to. if you're going to play in this space, talking about something so sensitive and something that people do experience you have to honor it, you have to respect it, you have to take care of it.

we can't keep demonizing MH care, it's not good for anyone. and also, we can't pretend that all levels of MH care are good for and effective with everyone in all cases, that's also not good for anyone. people need to be treated as people, regardless of their care needs and regardless of what side of the desk they're on. and saying this person's the good one and this person is the bad one is reductive, harmful, and makes for a boring fanfic.

[go-spotlight-author]

Spotlight Author for July 13, 2025

✨klikandtuna✨

klikandtuna (she/her) is a widely known AO3 author and illustrator, who has quickly produced fanfics of many varieties since the airing of GO S2. Keep reading to learn more about all these works, as well as the story behind her unique online handle (which she now answers to as readily as her own given name😆)

Here's some background into klikandtuna's world when she’s not thinking about Good Omens (though GO has a very special place in her life):

“Hi, I’m Steph and I live in Oregon (USA) with my husband, three kids, and two cats. Writing and illustrating GO fanfic is my favorite hobby, but I also cross-stitch (including designing custom pieces for myself and others) and play an occasional DnD campaign, and if I have any time left over I’m reading weird fantasy novels.”

klikandtuna’s journey into writing started at an early age - and the rest (as they say) is history:

“When I was in the fourth grade, we had just moved from Wisconsin to North Carolina and no one really liked me (to be fair, I was and remain an acutely introverted weirdo), but one day the class held a creative-writing contest where we all took the same prompt and wrote a little story with it. My story won. And that’s my origin tale:  I’d found something I both really enjoyed and was good at, and writing has been part of my life ever since. My ninth-grade English teacher once held up an essay I’d written and swore he’d see my name on the spine of a novel someday. Writing is what I’ve wanted to Do — a Writer is what I’ve wanted to be — for most of my life.”

Good Omens was not unfamiliar to klikandtuna before her discovery of the series.  But the series (and two magical actors) took her love of the story to the next level: 

“I read the book once ages ago, but didn’t remember much of it by the time the series rolled around. But the trailer was intriguing and I vaguely remembered liking the book, so I gave it a shot. Loved it. Love love love loved it — especially, obviously, our two leads. There’s something so healing about Good Omens, in regards to my religious trauma. I’ve since reread the book, of course, and Season 1 truly is a masterclass in book-to-screen adaptation: it drops what isn’t necessary and preserves everything that makes the story magical, while building upon the existing lore in believable and delightful ways.”

klikandtuna’s inspiration to write stories about Good Omens is probably the same for many writers in the fandom (hint: it might have had something to do with that “moment” we all obsess with over and over and over again😭):

“Season two broke my damn brain, that’s what happened. Season one was LOVELY, I adored the expanding of Crowley and Aziraphale’s roles and characterizations, and for whatever reason I was content with it. But that second season…that final fifteen… I watched it alone. ALL ALONE, Y’ALL, I didn’t even know anyone else who was into the show! I went to my online friend group like “has anyone maybe heard of this…?” and thank Bentley two of them pounced, and we were able to weep together. It was really that sense of community that sparked the obsession, I think.

It was those same two friends who read my first tiny tentative drabbles — classics like “The Broom Cupboard” and “Unforgettable” which will never be made public, and yes I’m only saying this to tease and tantalize — and they were so delighted and encouraging that it made me want to do more. I had never written fanfiction before and at first it felt odd to play with someone else’s characters, but I was having such fun and my friends enjoyed it so much that I just kept going.

Everything on my AO3 page before “In Vino Veritas” was written entirely in a vacuum — before I had any contact whatsoever with the fandom, when no one but those same two friends read my work. I hadn’t read anyone else’s work (I still don’t, or almost none), had never heard of human AUs until my friend introduced the concept and suggested I give it a try (the result was “Every Damn Day”), and was so self-conscious about it all that it took my friends six months to convince me to post my existing stories on AO3. With some trepidation, I did…and the reception has been so overwhelmingly positive that I’m full-on hooked 😄 I’ve since acquired a fabulous beta-reader by sheer luck, and I wouldn’t trade her for anything!”

Out of all her wonderful written works, is klikandtuna willing to tell us which one is her favorite? (we’ll do the apology dance for asking🥲)

“This is so mean. What a mean question. 🤣 Choose a favorite piece of my soul?? I could NEVER. 

But I will give special shoutouts to a) “Naked and Afraid: Jingle Hell” (human AU, rated T, 24k complete)  because the stupidest idea and a format I’d never attempted turned into something absolutely glorious (and it’s getting its own podfic, with me voicing the narrator!), and b) “When You Go” (rated E, 102k) a Reverse Omens fic that I feel I absolutely nailed the characterizations in, but is also very angsty and ends (temporarily!!!) on one heck of a cliffhanger so is largely overlooked. I could talk about WYG for hours but never get the chance!”

And does she have any interest in OTHER fandoms besides Good Omens??

“Nnnnnnope 😄 I used to be in a LiveJournal community centered on the “A Song of Ice and Fire” book series, but that’s it. I tend to enjoy things privately and not interact with the larger fandom; GO is the only exception, and therefore is receiving all of my creative energy.”

Speaking of klikandtuna’s “creative energy” - let’s dive into some of the questions submitted by our wonderful readers and followers:

✨Where does your creative energy, talents and inspiration come from? “I don’t think this has an easy answer. My creative ENERGY has yet to reach its limit; I write voraciously and there are never enough free hours in the day for it. Talent is what a person is born with, and I guess I got some of that; skill is how that person works to develop their natural talent, and no matter what level they start with they can always increase their skill. But inspiration?

Stephen King once wrote of “the pool where we all go down to drink, to swim, to catch a little fish from the edge of the shore; it's also the pool where some hardy souls go out in their flimsy wooden boats after the big ones” (this was in “Lisey’s Story”). In “Find the Light” I described it as silver threads in the dark aether — a glitter catches my eye, I pluck the thread and start to follow its path, and weave it into something that feels true. Sometimes a friend (usually my wonderful beta-reader) tosses an idea at me and I just can’t resist; sometimes I start with a topic I’m personally passionate about, like marching band. However I begin, I wait for that glitter and follow where it leads. Discovering a story like that is one of my favorite feelings in life 💛”

✨What was the inspiration behind the thematic of the pondwater in "Find the Light"? Is there a story behind that motif? (P.S: I loved every second of that motif, it is so beautiful. And the fanfic itself too, enjoyed it a lot): “I started writing “Find the Light” with no idea where I’d end up; I simply stood with Fell in his office and let things begin to unfold. When Fell turned his face to the sun and dipped briefly into memory…I saw the pond scene from his past, in its entirety. And when I wanted to write a song that was AJ’s ode to his lost love, I just…started typing. It took me maybe fifteen minutes to write the entire song. It was just THERE.

‘Pondwater’ is AJ’s own memory of those painful moments at the pond: beauty and grief and regret and passion rolled into one. I love it too, and I’m thrilled to announce that a ‘canon’ version of the song, as something you’ll actually be able to listen to and sing along with, is currently in the works!

(PS. If you love FTL but haven’t yet earned the right to read my AU crossover fic “Find Every Sky” (rated T, 48k complete), you might want to do so. AJ talks about his school-days friendship with Fell in a way that’s never fully explored in FTL!)”

✨You've written so many human AUs, so what got you into writing those in the first place? And, have you ever considered writing one where the one is human and the other isn't? “Back when I was writing in a vacuum, one of the two friends who read my work said “hey sometimes people write them as regular humans. Maybe you could give that a try?” And my little brain exploded. “Every Damn Day” is a completely pure work in that not only had I never read another human AU when I wrote it, I wasn’t even aware of the concept of human AUs until that moment. And I love my Avery and Anthony with every last bit of my heart.

When I became aware of the existence of other human AUs, it still didn’t occur to me that I could just…write another. Not until Suzy — an acquaintance of pure happenstance who had convinced me to join Tumblr and later became the best beta-reader in the business — sent me a Tumblr post that had a set of gifs and a vague prompt, and she said, “You could write this.” I laughed at first. I could NEVER write another human AU, I had already done my allotment. …Right? 🤣🤣 Thankfully I overcame that weirdness, and “Find the Light” was born, and I was off to the races.

The idea of one of them being human and the other supernatural doesn’t really sit right with me. So, no thank you ☺️”

✨A number of your stories create a more in-depth characterization for your lead pairs than the typical fan fic. Do you see yourself moving onto writing original characters? You're getting close already.  “If you’re following along with my current WIP “In His Hand a Burning Coal” (human AU, rated E, updates weekly and will wrap in October), you’ll know that I can and do write OCs! The ONLY canon characters in that one are the lead pair themselves and God; the rest of the fic is populated entirely with original characters, and I adore them.

If you mean completely original fiction, well — that’s the dream! But I’m having too much fun with fanfics at the moment ☺️”

✨I absolutely love your reinterpretation of Romeo and Juliet. Is there any other media you would consider reinterpreting through a Good Omens Lens? “To be fair, I’m really not trying to reimagine the play itself with “In His Hand a Burning Coal”; I take the basic concept of lovers belonging to rival tribes and apply it to college marching band, annnnnd that’s about it. Any other parallels between the two are delightful to theorize, but not intentional on my part. I’m just writing a story 😄

But I LOVE the idea of reimagining an existing story through the lens of Good Omens and would absolutely be interested in doing so in the future. Open to suggestions!”

✨What is something one of your characters has said or done that surprised you as you were writing it? “Oh lord, they do this ALL the time! This is why I never try to fully plot out my stories in advance; it feels too restrictive, and I’d rather give my characters room to tell me their own story organically. I only write in order, never skipping ahead, and my characters surprise me often.

One instance that immediately comes to mind is the infamous Crystal Ceremony in “Sky Clear Blue” (human AU, rated E, 289k complete). Azekiel said he had a plan, annnnd I had no idea what the plan would be until I was in the middle of writing the scene. It just unfolded around me, and ended up being one of the most powerful scenes in the fic!”

✨Any news on the book printing of your absolutely fabulous epic fics FTL and SCB? “Thanks to the unending generosity and diligence of SparklyShinyMagpie, who has done all of the pretty social-media coding you’ll see in my fics, the print books are inching closer to becoming a reality! The current holdup…is me 😆 So poke me now and then to make sure I’m holding up my end of things. At the moment we’re working on “Find the Light”; SCB will take a little longer.

The books will (eventually) be sold at cost, with no profit to me.”

✨You always put in your author’s notes and the tags that you won’t spoil the end of your stories. Would you ever consider NOT giving Aziraphale and Crowley a happy ending? ““Happy” is such an UNuseful word here. Is the ending SUITABLE? Does it make sense in the context of the story and the character arcs? Does it seem inevitable in retrospect? —These are the important questions, and the things that matter more to me (as both a reader and a writer) than whether the ending falls under the WILDLY subjective definition of “happy.”

That being said…I think that Crowley and Aziraphale, no matter what reality we find them in, OUGHT to have an ending in which they’re together and at peace. Heartbreak and tragedy have their place, but these two dopes are simply meant to be and nothing else feels right. 

But “#Author REFUSES to spoil the ending in the tags” is my favorite tag and isn’t going away anytime soon 😁”

These two ABSOLUTELY deserve the happiest of endings!!  And klikandtuna’s last answer OBVIOUSLY answers our next question - who is your favorite GO pairing to write about?

“I mean, is anyone’s FAVORITE pairing in this fandom anything other than our Ineffables? 😄 They’re the core of everything that’s brought us all together. I’ve featured or alluded to other relationships in my stories — Gabe/Beez, Uriel/Sandalphon, Maggie/Nina, Muriel/OC demon — but Crowley and Aziraphale are why we’re all here, and they’ve touched my heart and my creativity in a way that really no other fictional pairing I’ve ever encountered can compare to. 💛”

Any writing themes that you prefer for the Ineffable Duo?

“Redemption for all (potential/offered, even if not fulfilled). The transformative power of love. How belief can shape reality. Time is a pond. Aziraphale hates puns and Crowley hates autocorrect. At Least One Of Them Is A Virtuoso Musician. Sleepovers usually sneak in somewhere. This Love Is Destiny. Etc 😁”

klikandtuna has THREE works in progress right now - here’s a preview (and also your sign to subscribe so you don’t miss a thing!!):

““In His Hand a Burning Coal” (rated E, 28/43, 311k) — this massive beast of a human AU features Ant and Azlan, college students at an American university, who are in marching band together. Humor! Drama! Pining! Daring heists! Tons of fun OCs, including an aggressively hateable antagonist! 1-2 illustrations per chapter! Basically my personal love letter to band, delivered via a beautiful story of destiny and perseverance.

“Because We Can!” (not posted yet, will be rated T or possssibly M) — a campy human AU about time cops, equal parts drama and humor. This one has been shunted to the back burner until my FTH fic is complete, but I’ve written five chapters and really love it.

“What I Never Said” (human AU, not posted yet, will be rated M) — my winning bidder in the Fandom Trumps Hate auction presented me with a MASSIVE CHALLENGE that has required extensive research, but the result is going to be beautiful. Stay tuned.”

Okay - it’s time to end all the suspense.  WE NEED TO KNOW THE STORY BEHIND THE HANDLE!!! (And for the record, klikandtuna sort of begged for this question in her intro 😁🤣): 

“Hoist with my own petard. I brought up how stupid the handle is, so now I’ve gotta tell the stupid story 😆 SO. In 2018 I finally wanted to join Twitter, but every handle I could think of was taken, so I had to reach back into the vault of Dumb Family Legends to find something…

June 2005. On a five-day fishing trip on a remote Canadian lake with my dad and brothers. On the final day, in preparation for leaving, we disposed of most of our leftover food. 

Well, the float plane that was supposed to pick us up was late. Like, REALLY late. The window of time during which it could pick us up and make it back to civilization before dark was rapidly narrowing, and the four of us suddenly had to face the possibility of spending an extra night at this tiny cabin in the middle of nowhere with no food except the two items that couldn’t be thrown away or burned: one 8-ounce can of Starkist tuna, and one can of Klik, which is kind of a Canadian Spam and which we’d only purchased because we thought the name was funny.

The float plane DID come, thankfully, but we kept that can of Klik in the pantry for like ten years until Mom threw it away because she didn’t fully appreciate the sentimental value of it. I always keep a couple cans of Klik on my own shelves now, though, just for good luck.

“Klikandtuna,” typed 2018 Steph into the field to create a Twitter handle, just for a giggle…and lo and behold, it went through. So then I just had to live with it. Annnnd since it’s always available on any new social media platform and it’s nice to have just one handle across the board, I’ve stuck with it. Annnnd now it’s basically my name. This is my life now. I am two canned meats. Told you it was stupid.

(Sorry I don’t clicker-train cats, that would’ve been rad)”

And this wonderfully unique name is how you will always be able to find her online:

“Tumblr, BlueSky, and Instagram are where you can see my art; I’m also on Discord, and even have my own little server for “In His Hand a Burning Coal.” No matter where, I’m always klikandtuna 💛”

klikandtuna shares more with the fandom than just her beautiful artworks and fabulous tales: 

“I’ve designed and completed a GO cross-stitch that I’m proud of (and which David Tennant has signed! one day I’ll complete the set, I hope), and I’ve made a set of custom “Little People” GO figures. Most of my creative energy these days goes into the fics and illustrations!”

Here are some truthful and beautiful words of encouragement from klikandtuna for others who love writing or are considering dipping into the writing pool:

“Writing is scary.

Fan art is great because even a very rough sketch can carry at least the approximation of ideas and forms and intent, and your audience can take it in at a glance and offer kind words. But with writing you have to be at least kind of objectively good at it to properly pull off the telepathy of transmitting the intent in your own head into the heads of other people. Writing can’t be taken in at a glance — you have to be good enough for readers to stick around, focus, pay attention, dedicate their time. You have to EARN it. And that’s scary because it might not work.

AO3 is such a fun platform because it encourages reader interaction in a way that traditional publishing cannot. But the kudos and comments, and even the genuine friends I’ve made via these channels, are not the reason I write. And anyone for whom that IS the primary goal might end up having a bad time.

Do you fall through the page when you’re writing, losing track of the minutes? Do you make yourself laugh? Does your heart beat faster when you find that perfect phrasing? Do your fingers itch when it’s been too long since you got to sit down and get to it? Do you stage potential scenarios for your characters while folding laundry and scribble notes to yourself before you forget? Does your heart flood with genuine affection when you think of the people you’ve created, who feel more real to you than a lot of actual people you know?

Write because you love it. Because it’s fulfilling a huge and wonderful need in your soul. Let go of the end result and embrace the joy of the process — of working at it, of TRYING, of wrestling with words and ideas until it feels just right. The only real point of creating art of any kind is the feeling it inspires in the artist themself. Write for YOU. Make yourself your own target audience. That’s the best advice I’ve got.”

Final thoughts?

“I’m deeply grateful to everyone reading this. For not letting this fandom die, for continuing to find beauty and hope here…both in this story that means so much to us all, and in the community we’ve found with each other.”

klikandtuna - we are so very grateful for YOU and all the fantastic gifts you give to this fandom.  Thank you so much for sharing your story with us!!! 💝

Here's some links where you can continue to follow klikandtuna:

Archive of our Own [AO3]

Tumblr

Bluesky

Instagram

@klikandtuna

[teh-nos]

when i realised the reason loki is so good at manipulating thor could well be that he's been taught how to do it, likely by frigga whose own job is "talk the king down and/or egg him on"

[fromtheseventhhell]

Another round of asoiaf "prettycourse", another round of people ignoring Arya's self-esteem issues and how it relates to her arc because their enjoyment of the series hinges on an 11-year-old being considered ugly.

[cursedcola]

Prompt: Couples will evidently begin to mimic their better half after some time. What traits do you steal from him, and vice versa? Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Characters: Everyone - because I want to and I’m amidst fleshing out all my Yuu/Character dynamics + designs Format: Headcannons. Masterlist: LinkedUP Parts: Heartslabyul | Savanaclaw | Octavinelle (Here) | Scarabia | Pomefiore | Ignihyde | Diasomnia A/N: Putting all my brain rot from my notes into something cohesive. Contrary to my love for ripping your hearts out, I've come with some fluff this time around. BTW you may or may not already do things mentioned - I write my works with a specific Yuu in mind for each character so this is based on them. Just a reminder.

Habits You Steal:

Bargaining (Inherited AND Developed): No partner of Azul's is a shmuck. Not because of his standards (a little bit), but because you will learn to negotiate through trial and error. Being his pearl does not exclude you from daily verbal tango. He can and will still come after Ramshackle if given the opportunity. What? Just come stay in Octavinelle. He won't even charge for it, and you can bring Grim. He is always three steps ahead. Buying him a present is like the world's most daunting task, because he somehow already knows what's inside the box. Every. Time. Even if you shop a year in advance. Don't even start with arguments. He has a rebuttal for EVERYTHING. There is never a winner, only a settlement because he is so stubborn (and you equally so. Pride is contagious). As adults you're constantly exposed to business deals and sometimes have to deal with handling negotiations. Not to mention people with grudges against Azul attempting to shmooze their way through you. Only to find that you are just as manipulative.

"Pearl, Jade says that our deal with the Bas triplets for the next semester has been renewed? I hadn't scheduled their extension meeting until the first Saturday of next month. Would you have anything to say on this?" <- Long story short, the triplets tracked you down to beg for help in getting out of their work contract with Azul. He was always fair, and they entered willingly. No corruption on his part...but they were hell bent on not working in the kitchens with Floyd anymore. Solution? You managed to shmooze an extra week on their terms, in exchange for not being put on Floyd's shift anymore. Azul is so proud - but don't do that again. You're the one telling Floyd he doesn't get to play 'spot the difference' with the triplets anymore. Not him.

Smell Sensitivity (Developed): Nothing shanks the nostrils like sea brine. No pun intended. Lingering around Octavinelle equates to constantly smelling fish. Most students there come from the coral sea and don't mind it. Others only stop in for a quick bite to eat, and don't stay a moment more. The Mostro Lounge just has a potent smell that can't be found anywhere else. Like McDonald's french fries...but fish. Grim loves it, you now get nauseated when a scented candle is lit.

"Must you pinch your nose? Think of my- Octavinelle's reputation for a moment" <- Azul is brewing a scent masking potion as we speak. You're really hitting his pride here, even if you can't help it.

Glasses Wipes (Developed): Octopunk heats up when you so much as touch him in public. Then his glasses get foggy. If you wear makeup, its smears on his skin (to which he acts unbothered, but we all know it's a ruse). He obviously carries a hankey but having some wipes on hand is a nice gesture. Unnecessary, but sweet-ish.

Refined Pallet (Inherited): The cup ramen and foraged greens just do not cut it anymore. Not when Azul's made a VIP menu over at the lounge just for you. Sure, the place has a variety of options but he'll always get Floyd to cook up whatever you're in the mood for. At a discount (since Grim can eat him out of pocket). Have you ever had 100% dark, sea-salt chocolate imported from the coral sea? Ever tasted it in a rich devil's cake, baked fresh with only the best ingredients? Betty Crocker, who???

"I must say, your diet could still use some work - do not look at me that way. The twins found your hidden stash of instant noodles during our 'occupation' at Ramshackle. Under the stairs, pearl? Really? When was the last time your sodium was checked?"

Aversion to Sea Food (Developed): You will never understand how the Coral Sea students are okay with the Mostro Lounge. Neither what was running through Azul's head when he decided to open a SEA FOOD restaurant. Honestly? Red flag. One you ignored, but still a red flag. The existence of merpeople and therianthropes is still new and novel to you. To each their own, but you can't eat any sea creatures knowing that it could be - no, it can't be? Floyd's always joking that Azul is tasty but...it's just a joke, right?

"As much as Floyd loves to special make your chicken strips with wedges...why do you never order from the public menu? I assure you, Mostro Lounge is supplied with only the highest quality - h-huh? What crazy thoughts are you having?! Honestly!" <- This explains so much. He always thought you stared at the food with envy, because Grim would eat your pocket out and leave you to sip on lemon water. He had to force the special 'vip' meals down your throat at the start. is this why you're so uncomfortable having lunch with Floyd and his weekly Takoyaki binge?

Appraisal (Developed): Ever see those shows where a professional goes around to antique markets, and can point out forgeries, fake gems, etc. by eye? That is Azul. He's a collector of gadgets and gizmos aplenty - anyway. Strolls through antique marts, coin collecting showcases, and other marketing events will undoubtably train the eye over time. No scammer will ever shmooze ya out of house and home. Sorry Sam.

Habits He Steals:

Jacket (Developed): Mermen run cold. The uniform blazer Azul dons is more-so just for show than anything. Clothes are overall a novel concept, since most in the coral sea dress minimalistic (or not at all). The lounge runs quite chilly as well. Not enough to deter customers, but the perfect temperature to get uncomfortable after a few hours. Now Azul has many jealous bones in his body, and would rather drop dead than see one of the leech twins loan out their blazer so you can nap in the back room (they're doing it on purpose). Azul often offers his coat out to you the moment you walk inside - so often, that all the part-time workers know if you're on lot if he's walking without it.

"I need my jacket back, please. Why? N-no particular reason. Do I need an excuse to wear my own clothes?" <- Ruggie - Mostro Lounge's most reliable and simultaneously difficult part timer, mind you - was the first to pick up the correlation. If the VIP lounge was shut, and Azul was out doing quality rounds? It meant you were in the back, and he was in a better mood. The perfect time to sneak a platter unnoticed. Azul must take precautions.

Snitches Get Stitches (Developed): ONE perk of living with ghosts. Honey you get ALL the tea on campus. You just need to butter them up with a game of pranks and it’s ripe for the taking. Now, who do you think is going to make full use of this? Azul. They won’t give it to him directly because it’s more fun to make him frustrated. Which means he has to go through you. *Which means* he gets very crafty in buttering you up for details.

Midnight Hour (Developed): This mainly applies to his adult years. Wherever he goes - business or otherwise - you come with more often than not. As a youth his dealings were important - yes. Yet he was still getting his swimming legs in business and his primary demographic was students. Contrary to his pride, Azul wasn't someone important. Someone actually worth targeting like the Briar Prince. The real world is much more risky. You can help with negotiations and running facilities. You might 'think' he is tossing you into the end zone with all his ambitions...but no. Any dealings with high-stake confrontations are handled only after midnight.

"Two-o-clock in the am hours. That is the latest I can offer - well, it seems we've reached an impasse. This deal clearly is not worth my effort, if such 'accommodations' are beyond your capabilities. Allow one of my partners to escort you off the premises." <- Let's make one thing clear. No contract is ever worth putting you at risk. One twin (usually Jade) will remain at his side, the other (Floyd...because he's honestly not the best for negotiations. More guard dog material, and has fun hanging out with you) back with at the house/hotel. Azul doesn't trust 'anyone', and the Leech family is obviously in business with him. He takes no chances, screw probability, and can't kill the inner control-nerd in him. He's never out past three-am and would rather you feel a bit left out then dead somewhere in the Stillwater.

Land Legs (Developed): Considering he will be on land more for the foreseeable future, Azul puts more effort to building his land legs. Not that he wasn't trying before, but there wasn't any guarantee that he'd be working the land beyond NRC. So with the reassurance that 'something' (someone) will require his attention on shore, he decides to invest the effort. Azul will not get on one of those flying deathtraps past academy years though. He's getting a license and pulling up in a new Bugatti.

Pictures (Inherited): Much to Azul's chagrin, you love photos. Maybe it's because you have little to recall from your own world. Maybe it's because you're in the photography club. Maybe it's because you love his misery - but you are always taking photos. At first he insisted that you never get him in the frame. He hates them. Still does, do not misunderstand...and the idea of someone having so many with him included eats him up. Yet his insistent denials do lessen, and he tolerates them. You cannot post them anywhere. Yet...he will only 'mildly' grimace when looking at them around your house. Only because who the heck is coming over that he hasn't approved of?

"This picture? Ah...that is my dear pearl. They are breathtaking, are they not? I truly am the most fortunate man alive. Ah. My apologies, let's return to discussing the contract terms. May I see your completed punch-card?" <- And because you're in them too. As a youth, he kept your photo on his desk in the lounge. Sometimes a client would ask about you, and he'd lapse for a moment before folding the frame down and out of their view. He'd tuck it away whenever you came around, but would talk to it when alone. About his day, his work, whatever first year came crying because Floyd used them as a dart board - and dare I say that he'd keep a family photo in your later years together. Azul hates pictures of himself, but not as much as he loves ones of you. Look at him. Big softie.

—

"Of course. I have remarkable potential as an instructor, do I not? Is it not a great fortune to have me as one's partner? Take this as a lesson that your boss can influence even the most lost souls." == Azul shows no reservation. The moment he caught two part-timers gossiping about your 'conversion' to the 'dark side'. Why, he was positively beaming. His grin wide with a touch of something sinister. Gossip is fine, but they should know better than to do so in his den. Anything noteworthy would undoubtably reach his ears with time, but oh was it a joy to watch them squirm. Honestly. They're fortunate that he's in such a good mood - what was intended to be slandering has just made his day. They're still getting put on shift with Floyd though. He's merciful, yet no martyr.

Habits you steal:

Foraging (Inherited): You are always looking around for plants to propagandize. It's like stealing but not - because Crowley doesn't have any 'rules' about it so...heh. Free food. Jade's a living encyclopedia when it comes to botany and agriculture. He's the whole reason you've got a mini apothecary going in the kitchen and that instant-noodle stash got amped up in flavor. What? you ever add some fresh mushrooms and green onions to that instant chicken yakisoba? Mwah. The mountain lover's club needs to look out, 'cause the Ramshackle Prefect is about to bleed campus dry for every last specimen.

Yapping (Developed): Spinning off the above 'route'. Many people think Floyd's the talkative twin. Nah. This motherf*cker does NOT shut up. He treats you like his second conscience, asking questions he doesn't expect to be answered and giving commentary like your own personal narrator. Who needs thoughts when he literally says everything before you can think it? Floyd salutes you - 'cause finally. Finally, it isn't him subjected to Jade's inner spiels. Sorry Shrimpy, you are a sacrifice he's willing to make. If you ever break up or fight with Jade - Floyd's going to hunt you down - he can never go back. Never.

On a side note, you're an excellent listener now.

Tea (Inherited): Do you hate tea? No you don't. Not Jade's tea. There isn't much to comment on here, other than you will develop a taste for his Atlantic Twice-Seeped Water-Lily brew. You'll be craving it every night if ever sent back to our world (as if that'll happen). Mixed with honey from the Afterglow Savannah and served in a baby-blue ceramic cup that has a shimmer handle. That's your mug, by the way. He has other brews...some improvised and caution is indeed extended. They're tasty for the most part though.

“Ah, just smell that aroma. I developed this blend made just for you, my dear. I’m not one to seek out sweet floral notes for my tea, yet this flavor is an acquired taste that pulls you in for more. I finish the cup without realizing each time” -> Jade can be sweet himself, when he wants to be.

Wearing gloves (Developed): Jade makes you touch weird shit. All the time. Unprompted. He also makes you eat weird shit, but more often than not you can escape by shoveling his experiments onto someone he can get a more interesting reaction out of. Classically condition him not to feed you the weird shit by being unresponsive - off topic. Point is that with his obscene collection of terrariums? Plus being pulled along for foraging quests? You will be touching unknown and possibly poisonous plants, bugs, dirt, maybe some aquatic creatures like toads and fish. For all that is good, keep a pack of rubber gloves in your schoolbag. Keep a pair of insulated leather gloves in your breast pocket at all times too. Hand Sanitizer as well. Who knows when you’ll be elbow deep in murky water riddled with mysterious rainbow moss. What makes it rainbow? You don’t know and Jade won’t say. He does quip that it changes colors with emotions. Screw Twisted Wonderland and it’s freakish botany.

“Oh my, would you look at that vibrant shade of purple. Why are you so frightened? These are meant to be happy ‘bonding’ times for us as a couple, isn’t that what you said? Fufu - oh. Hurry up and put it in this jar. You’ll ruin the sample at this pace,” <- In truth, Jade saw red blooming at the edges of the moss and called quits before your nerves turned to anger. Fear? Amusing. Especially since you have more harmful ‘house plants’ growing on the mantle back at your dorm. Curtesy of Jade himself, of course. Azul doesn’t let him store his more precarious collection in Octavinelle and what you don’t know won’t hurt you. Yet he won’t push the jokes too far, since so few ever come out foraging with him. No no. He needs you to continue as a willing participant. Don’t get angry at him just yet, there are still so many places to explore and the day is young!

Doppelgänger Paranoia (Developed): The Leech twins tried to pull that shit where they swapped places for a day. Therefore you are now freakishly paranoid of Floyd trying to take Jade’s place to pull a prank. It is no help that Floyd is insanely good at mimicking his brother and vice versa. Sure, you could make a keyword or ask Jade to wear something special as a give away. Mark him. Maybe make an excuse of it being a thing human couples do and stick a pin on his lapel. Yet there isn’t a guarantee that he won’t just let Floyd in on it to see what happens. He’s a jerk like that, but your jerk nonetheless.

“Your caution is entertaining, and I do find all this extra attention flattering. Yet there are more taxing worries to mull over, wouldn’t you agree? Surely I’ve earned enough trust to circumvent any doubts in that mind of yours?” -> Do you know that the twin-swap was just a one time trick? Probably not. Doing it again would be boring with no novel results, but Jade does love watching you squirm with suspicion. He’ll offer an assurance eventually, and it will be your call to believe him or not. Until then? He has no problem being under your watchful eye. It’s quite cute, after all.

Habits he steals:

Grammar Control (Developed): Purely to piss you off. Coming from another world - your dialect isn't exactly the same as everyone in Twisted Wonderland. There are region specific languages, and then there is the common tongue. For simplicities sake, let's just say that everyone in TWST can speak common tongue and transferring over gave you this ability. Except (like Epel) you carry a heavy accent - and Jade loves to play grammar police. Your irritation never ceases to amuse him. That's right. He's the train kid from the 'Polar Express'. Just less nasal.

“Let’s try to capture that illusive letter ‘R’, shall we? You don’t want to give onlookers any more ammunition as a respectable prefect.”-> Says the only person using this as ammunition, except for Ace when he gets really snappy and Riddle’s mild cringe when your accent butchers a toast at the Unbirthday party. At this point you’re hearing ‘red leather, yellow leather’ and ‘mark went on a lark after dark’ in your sleep.

Routes (Developed): Another one with the need to have a bit of control. Just a bit. Get ready to roll out of bed at the ass-crack of dawn, because he will be there at five-am sharp to haul you back to Octavinelle (or on a hike. Saturday's only). Isn't it a human custom to stick close to your partner? He's just making sure you're cared for. Which is why you exist attached to his hip most days

Symbiosis 1 (Developed): Only a mild-note for Jade. His brother, noted below, takes this concept more to heart. Jade uses it as an enhancing factor to an already “well-rounded” relationship. The law of the sea dictates that those stronger will enter a ‘pact’ with weaker creatures - protection in exchange for care. You are not in need of protection with that frosh posse and stubborn head of yours. Jade mostly uses this ‘symbiotic relationship’ as a way to get you to do things for him, and to talk down your impulsive behaviors from time to time. Aka you won’t create excessive trouble if it means he feels ‘bound’ to go with (as if he wouldn’t be overjoyed to get in some chaos)

Observation (Developed?): Jade...knows everything about you. It's infuriating (to you, not him), but you are still a potential client regardless of his personal interest. Hobbies, tastes, your worst and best subject, weaknesses -all categorized. Azul and his business come first. Yet you're the only student on campus that has a 'doctored' file. Why?

“I never realized you are adverse to crowds. Yet you handle navigating Night Raven with no difficulties? Is this a mere preference, or would you prefer to find somewhere quiet while I accompany the others? What do you need?” -> (During Playful Land Event) He can't get the finer details without asking questions. There is no source for information about your world or your person other than your word of mouth. His unique magic would be easy - but it's just one question. One, and you might be too resilient for a response. Where's the fun? What makes this a habit is that Jade's keen eye becomes sharper.

Ramshackle (Developed): Bro just moved in. I’m serious. He got permission by pulling a favor. Azul doesn’t let him keep the more precarious plants in Octavinelle, so Jade has overtaken the kitchen with potted flora and fungi. Floyd is enthusiastic that he doesn't have to share a room - what? Twins don't always stick together. Those two probably fight more than they get along. Plus with Jade at Ramshackle it's an excuse to go see what's up with Shrimpy and maybe play with torture the little freshies you hang around with. It’s chapter three but you aren't booted out and have to deal with both Leeches every day. Seven preserve you.

—

“I let my excitement get the better of me for a moment…please, continue as if I am not here. My apologies.” == How rare for Jade’s mask to slip in front of his underclassmen. He was able to brush it off - giving a fib about his clubs upcoming excursion (not entirely untrue. He is excited to go for a hike with you this weekend). Yet the normally dull gossip of his dorm-mates was too much to bare. Not because your changes are becoming more pronounced, but because these little fish are foolish enough to think it’s making him soft. Enough to gossip so blatantly in his earshot? Gods, they make his job much too easy.

Habits you steal:

Leering (Inherited): Floyd...oh dear. He has this habit of staring holes into the back of your head. Anyone's head, really. His presence is intimidating, and it's hard not to pick up what’s going on in his head. There's a catch to this though. You only leer at other people when he isn't around. Too busy with the man in question to bother 'people-watching' (unless you're actually pissed). Riddle is constantly on edge now because he has TWO people giving him the heebee-jeebies. Prefect, it was bad enough you were taking influence from ADeuce. Now the Leech brothers? Well, he'd still take you over Floyd any day. At least you won't try to act on that unsettling aura...yet.

“Somethin’ on my face?…why’re you staring at me like that? Unless you want my attention? Hehe, ya shoulda just said so!” <- Floyd can do it to you, but you can’t to him. Not unless you want to be suplexed and squished tightly for hours on end.

Impulse actions (Inherited): Chaotic energy anyone? Floyd needs a partner who is one of two things - can kick his ass on occasion so he'll play nice, or who will match his freak. Since matching the strength of a Moray Eel isn't something most humans can do? Well, maybe a bitch slap here or there but be aware he is letting it happen. Just know. Better be playful too, not no actual challenge. Point being- you need to match his freak. No buzz-kills.

“Ne Ne~ Yanno, I’ve never seen those super fancy fireworks you land people like to set off. Wanna go get some and rig the - eh? You already got them?….Hahaha Shrimpy’s getting gutsy. I’m so happy” -> His eyes are practically glowing with anticipation. You’re now Azul's third headache 1000%, someone get that man an Asprin.

Snacks (Developed): Floyd can EAT. The only one with a stronger appetite is Jade, but he has a better control over his hunger. While their bodies changed to look human, their appetites did not decrease. Going with ‘symbiosis,’ Floyd gets a bit needy and talks like you’re his internal clock. Jade’s the yapper but Floyd just expects you to know what he needs. So you will always be carrying a selection of snacks (Grim gets in on this) in your bag/purse. Also fidget toys. Not for eating, but to give him when you’re stuck anywhere particularly boring. Props if you can somehow get a two-in-one with the twisted wonderland equivalent of those Air Heads Pull-Aparts.

Lullaby and Goodnight (Developed) : Instant calming effect. Merfolk are very particular with music and are sensitive to vocals. Floyd in particular is super picky. You could be the worst singer on the planet (Floyd will give you half-assed lip for it if you are, in all fairness) but the easiest way to calm him down is with music. It’s cringey and unrealistic to us land-folk but there’s plenty of singing in Atlantica. So humming a soft lullaby for him while sitting together won’t earn any looks in Octavinelle. Unless you sound awful, to which he will punt anyone that speaks out. Not that they would, since a calm Floyd is a godsend no matter the means achieved.

“Did I say you could listen in, hah? Sounds to me like someone’s in the mood for ‘my’ kinda song….don’t move, Shrimpy. This’ll be quick.” <- Good or bad - doesn’t matter. Getting to hear you is Floyd’s privilege. He’s a bit possessive of it, to be frank. So if someone butts in when he’s in the middle of calming down, Floyd’s going to be pissed to the max.

The Little Mermaid (Inherited): Drags you down to the sea at every opportunity. Don’t fight him, just guzzle the vomit-inducing potion and get a move on. Floyd doesn’t care how much a mer-transfiguration potion costs, Azul can take care of it. Floyd hates being restrained to dry land, and hey. He’s up here, so it’s only fair you go down into the sea trenches too. Don’t worry, he won’t take you anywhere too dangerous. He’ll even teach you how to get your sea legs - fish legs? Look. He teaches you how to swim in your mer-form, which he is severely disappointed does not resemble a shrimp.

Habits he steals:

Phone Privileges (Developed) : Floyd’s cellphone is normally in DND mode at all times. The only exceptions are Azul and his Momma - Jade was one too up until they came to dry land. There’s only so many mushroom photos and long voicemails about random crap that Floyd can take. Oh - and you’re an exception now. He saves all your voicemails - some for callbacks to win arguments and others to play when he’s about to sleep. You just better be careful when you call him and what for, also always pick up if he calls you. Otherwise there’s going to be one angry eel lurking by your bedroom window. With ‘first-contact’ privileges, all the unflattering candid pics he has of you are just a click away from being shared if he feels like it (teases but wouldn’t do it. Well, unless you really are ignoring him. Be warned)

Using F*cking Doors(Inherited) : Yes. Yes, you read that right. Floyd loves to parkour across campus. The amount of times he’s snuck into Ramshackle through that tiny circle window in the attic is frustrating. You’re seriously considering bolting the thing shut if it keeps him off the roof and on the ground. Y’know, for someone who can’t fly a broom? He sure has no problem climbing brick walls with his bare hands like some kinda cockroach. A Leech cockroach. Jamil’s worst nightmare good god. After the sixth-or-so heart attack, Floyd’s not allowed anywhere near Ramshackle if it’s not through the front door. The ghosts have strict instructions to punt him…to which he took as a challenge (because of course he did). Until a window was smashed, and you sent hellfire down upon him.

“I said it was an’ accident! What more do you want from me, huh? It’s your fault anyway for sicking those ghost fish on me - Urk…fiiine. I’m sorry or whatever” <- Always will back down the moment you come across as genuinely pissed. Usually with a grunt and hiss under his breath, kicking his foot before stalking off to cool down for a bit. Always fixes whatever he broke or tries to make amends once his mood is less sour.

Symbiosis II (Developed): Paired with the above 'match his freak' and second rendition of Jade's. Except Floyd is 100% serious. Floyd's going to do right by you, but you've got to do right by him. People are going to wonder why the small-pint prefect is sitting here covering one of bro's shifts (they feared for your life when you basically told him to 'fuck off', knowing he was angry after getting scolded by Azul) but that's how it is. Floyd's symbiosis is different than Jade's. He's more impulsive, yet also more predictable with what he needs. The definition of "no one can tell me to do shit except my spouse" 'cause symbiosis is a mutual respect and trade. No one can pick on you except for him. No one can help you the way he does. He is not going anywhere. Ever. Bonded for life - that kind of ‘sappy shit’.

"I already said I don't wanna... ughhh, babysitting those frosh fishies is so booooring. Can't we just ask Azul to lock 'em in a tank or somethin'?.... ALRIGHT, Little Shrimpy. I get it already so stop yammering in my ear...." <- Floyd's the softer brother, if you can believe that. Acts of service are what get him and he thrives on being needed. So you'll be doing it a lot to earn that compliance from him. Be the iron fist that gets him to back down, and simultaneously the one slipping him a few party poppers to set off at one of Heartslabyul's tea-parties as a reward.

The ✨Fashion✨ (Developed) : Surface-world fashion is one of Floyd’s special interests. Oddly enough? You’re a perfectly-sized dress up doll. It’s cute how large his shoes are in comparison to your feet. Hah! You look like a clown clobbering around in those things. He 100% gives you a pair of light up sneakers that sparkle when you walk - makes it easier to find you in crowds. Not that he needs to. Mostly it’s just for fun. He’ll even get a matching pair so you don’t feel zeroed out.

VIP Menu (Developed) : Floyd has a ‘secret’ menu over at the Mostro Lounge. He’s the head cook, don’t ya know? Makes real tasty dishes. C’mon, praise him. He’ll add a few dishes just for you since you’re so picky - that’s a bad trait to have for a broke Shrimp by the way. Good thing he’s around to make sure you’re eating.

“Oi! I told ya that was for you. If the lil’ seal’s hungry he can get somethin’ off the menu on his own…unless he’s lookin’ for a squeeze?” <- One major gripe Floyd has with Grim is how he’s always mooching off your plate. It’s fine if Azul’s picky with his food, cause that’s Azul. You’re different ‘cause in Floyd’s mind responsible for you. Again. He takes the symbiosis thing more seriously than Jade, and will poke your cheek relentlessly and comment if it’s lost it’s squish. He always serves you something to eat, even if you don’t order. Doesn’t let anyone else prepare it either.

Protective (Developed) : At the risk of sounding like a broken record, Floyd is very attentive. He’s clingy as hell and always looking for an excuse to have a good tussle - you’re his favorite person to screw with. Yet only himself, Azul, and Jade get the green card to look at you with anything other than respect. Cause he knows they don’t mean it - and even your little freshman buddies don’t get a pass. Maybe the seal since Floyd could squish Grim like a grape and he knows it. Leona’s almost gotten many challenges for the whole ‘herbivore’ thing.

—

“ ‘s nice, right? What’s better than one of me? Two, hah! Jade might have my face but now Shrimpy’s got my personality” == Finds the situation funny for like, an hour? Maybe two? Doesn’t matter because ‘Shrimpy is Shrimpy’ - plain as that, really. He gets more joy out of teasing people when they find out you’re with him. As if Floyd gives two sh*ts what other people think? Nah.

[brokenpinballmachine]

✶ moon rising at 12 o'clock

yan batfam x gn neglected reader

masterlist ch1 ch2(coming....)

a/n: hiii so like,, obviously I havent been on tumblr for like YEARS so excuse if anything looks bad. 2nd thing to get off: I am in now way like PRO EXPERT level, or whatever and this is mostly just for fun so expect like,,, shitty writing/characterization maybe, wonky time schedules etc. This is like my first post in like, what, 5 years?? maybe more?? Im quite new to the fandom so sorry for like any inconsistencies LMAO

TW: mentions of death, GN reader, slightly a crack fic (pov: my excuse to everything i write), neglect (OBV), english is NOT my first language... sorry yall... im not as american as you think..... sentence structure might be a little funky

word count: 3,662 words

summary: basically every batfam x neglected reader plot ever /w like multiverses or whatever,, inspired by a lot of authors + into the spiderverse

chapter 0: finding yourself

────── ₊˚⊹ ᰔ ──────

How many years has it been since you've last seen your mother?

You remember showing up at the door of the Gothic-styled manor, so excited, out of your mind, livid that you were the child of Bruce Wayne. What would you do? What would you say? Would you finally have the regular life that you've always dreamed of? To say you were ecstatic would be an understatement.

The butler next to you, who you soon found out was named Alfred Pennyworth, could only chuckle at your antics, holding your suitcases filled with clothes from your old house.

You were the child of Bruce Wayne and a prostitute who you knew as your mom. She wasn't home often, but that never wiped the smile off your face.

That stupid smile on your face.

Whenever something went wrong, you somehow managed to keep positive, to keep being optimistic. It was one of the traits that your friends always remembered, despite your upbringing.

When your mom did return home, though, she would place a few items of food on the table and leave once again. You never knew where she would run off to.

A vivid memory of your childhood is your mom coming home with another man, both of them turning in your direction when you decided to make yourself known.

It was strange. Why were they holding each other like that? Questions popped up in your mind, but they were shooed away with the flick of your mother's hand, telling you to go to bed. So you did.

You convinced yourself that night that maybe your mother was trying to make a change; perhaps she was finding you a dad? Yeah! That's it! She was just finding you a new dad so the three of you could finally live a normal, happy life. The stories of your classmates also filled your mind, and how their fathers would take them to the zoo, play baseball with them, and even allow them to put makeup on him. You wanted that. You just wanted a father.

When you woke up, you couldn't find either of them anywhere. Maybe they were planning a party for you?

Then a week passed by. Then another. And before you knew it, you had run low on the food supply your mother would always bring you, not knowing it was going to be your last.

You expected your mother to show up in the nick of time to save you from starvation, but it never happened. She never showed up.

Maybe… they were playing hide and seek?

You stopped showing up to school a week before your food supply finally ran out. You had portioned every last bit of food for each day, not allowing yourself to eat even an extra breadcrumb. Even if you never felt full, it was enough to keep you alive, even if you felt numb and more tired than usual.

Occasionally you would fall asleep on the couch, and you wouldn't even realize how long you had slept until you checked the time again.

That was until the day after your supply of food ran out; someone knocked on the door.

Opening it, you peeked your eyes out until they fell upon a tall police officer who seemed shocked at the sight of a small, malnourished child looking up at him, with heavy eye bags despite the constant rest you were getting. He asked you where your parents were. You shrugged.

Before you knew it, you found yourself in the police station as they questioned you endlessly about your parents and their whereabouts.

Your teacher had gotten worried about you not showing up to school or about your parents not answering any of their calls, so as a last resort, she called the police to make sure you weren't dead or anything.

Well, you might not have been dead, but you looked like you were about to pass out at any second.

Of course, when they found you in a dirty, broken-down home that almost looked abandoned, they started searching for your biological father immediately to see if he could house you. At the same time, they were also searching for your mother, but she seemed to either be missing or dead.

And you could still remember your own shocked face when they told you that the Bruce Wayne, multimillionaire, was your damn father. Even if your mom was missing, perhaps you could still have that life you always dreamed of with your dad?

As both Alfred and you went inside the manor, you followed him around like a little duckling as he gave you a tour of every room, and your wide-eyed face was plastered with a big smile as you ran around each room and explored every detail with your eyes.

It was bigger, better, and fancier than you could have ever imagined.

"Master Y/n, would you like to visit your father?" A voice snaps you out of your haze. You see Alfred standing near a door.

With a nod, your little legs run up to him, and the sound of pitter-patter comes from your shoes hitting the recently swept floors, echoing throughout the mansion.

"Master Wayne, your child has arrived."

Bruce didn't bother looking at you. His eyes remained on the many stacks of papers that cluttered his desk. A small cough from Alfred's mouth as he speaks up once more, repeating his sentence. This time, with a tired sigh, Bruce Wayne opens his mouth, each word coming out snappy and tired.

"Not now, Alfred; I'm busy."

And that was it. Those were the only words you heard him speak, and it wouldn't be until a few months later that you would hear him speak again—not towards you, of course, but that never swept off the smile on your face.

────── ₊˚⊹ ᰔ ──────

Richard "Dick" Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake.

The names of your three other siblings.

When you had first met Dick, you stared at him in awe. Your cheerful attitude clashed well with his own, and he would ruffle your hair whenever he talked to you. Well, at least for the first week you were in the manor.

Afterward, he would always give you an excuse, as if the free trial of him being a brother to you had ended. As if he was being held at gunpoint to be the "nice" brother.

"Sorry, Y/n! I'm going out tonight, but I think Tim isn't busy!"

"Sorry, Y/n, I'm feeling a little too tired today!"

Sorry for this, sorry for that. Excuses seemed to be the only thing that ever came out of his mouth nowadays. Whenever he saw you, he would rush out of the house as soon as you came in—like he didn't want to hurt your feelings with the expected answer he would always give you.

The warm light of the manor seemed to make you chillier every time he rejected you, but it was fine. You still had two other brothers, right?

Who were you kidding?

Jason seemed to always ignore you, no matter the situation. The times he did acknowledge you were to give you short answers—a simple "yes" or "no." It wasn't like you saw him a lot, anyway.

For Tim, it seemed to be the same thing, but he did actually live in the house. He pushed you away every second he got, not bothering to even make up an excuse.

It's fine. You had Alfred, you had his cooking, and you had the manor. You had a roof over your head, so you still smiled even if it was foolish of you to do so.

You were extremely grateful for Alfred, of course, being the only one who bothered to check in on you. In your spare time, he would even let you help him cook! Maybe it was something as simple as icing a few cookies or rolling some cookie dough, but you still appreciated his effort to make you feel acknowledged.

Then came Damian.

Oh dear, not Damian.

You were immediately intimidated by him from the moment he entered the house. Maybe it was the threat that came out of his mouth when he first laid his eyes on you, or the small cut he left on your collarbone—spoiler alert: it was both—you decided not to even try to socialize with him. It wasn't worth the risk.

So why was he more beloved in the house than you?

Was it because you decided not to become a vigilante?

Why did Bruce, Dick, Jason, and Tim all seem more fond of him than they ever had been of you, even though you had "known them" for longer? You were jealous, to say the least, but you didn't make your voice heard. It would just cause a mess, and you knew they were often busy, so you brushed it off as you usually would.

You held a small hope that they would eventually notice you, and that was enough for you to keep a childish smile on your face. The innocent smile remained, despite being aware of everything that was happening around you. Your twelfth birthday was just around the corner, and you planned to celebrate it as you usually did: alone with Alfred.

Of course, that didn't mean you wouldn't hand out little invitations. You slipped them underneath each of your brothers' doors, pouring your blood, sweat, and tears into every detail of the handwritten notes before moving on to the next sibling. They never came to your birthdays, but that wouldn’t stop you from trying.

"Master Y/n, where would you like me to hang the balloons?" Alfred's voice rang in your ears. When you looked in the direction of his voice, you noticed your favorite colored balloon in both of his hands, making the smile on your face grow wider. This might be the best birthday you had decorated, like, ever!

"You can hang them up in the corners of the room!" you giggled. "Or maybe we could scatter them on the ground!"

"I'm afraid that might be a safety hazard, Master Y/n," he replied.

You could only shrug. "Hey, it's not as bad as you think!" You gave him a lopsided grin. "I'm sure no one would slip on them!"

Right, quite literally 'no one,' because you knew none of your family members were actually going to show up. Both of you continued to set up as Alfred checked on the birthday cake, the scent of which wafted toward you.

Aw, he shouldn’t have! You could recognize the aroma of your favorite flavor anywhere, and the sight of it made the corners of your mouth drool too. You inconspicuously wiped it from the edges of your mouth, blushing a bit and hoping Alfred hadn’t noticed.

He lit the candle on the cake, and you both sang together.

Despite Bruce never being there for you, you could always count on Alfred. The cool wind blew against the faces of the rest of the family; each one wore a frown as they made their way toward Wayne Manor.

The moonlight illuminated the pathway ahead and shone against their suits, almost mockingly, as if highlighting the mistakes they had made that night.

You know when people say, “Well, it can’t get any worse, right?”

Unfortunately for them, everything went terribly wrong.

They even forgot it was your birthday, Alfred noticing the glitter you used from one of your cards shining in the trash can when he went to throw something away. He didn't have the confidence to tell you; he didn't want to ruin your special night.

So when they suddenly appeared in the dining room, yelling and arguing about whose fault it was, they stopped at the sight of the decorations scattered throughout the room.

Who would be celebrating at such a time? Was this a prank? Bruce had the birthdays of all his kids (minus you) memorized, so what were these balloons and party streamers for?

Then they saw you. They saw the cake next to you; they saw the smoke coming out of the candles, they saw the multiple plates placed on the table and how only two plates actually had silverware next to them, and they saw the childish smile on your face.

You couldn't believe it; your wishes came true! They actually came.

They couldn't believe it. Awkwardness filled the room, and they each fell silent. They hadn't meant to intrude.

Of course, it wasn't your fault that the night went wrong, but Damian couldn't handle it. Your birthday—why did it have to be today of all nights? It was as if you were mocking him for the failure that occurred in battle.

He scoffs, storming out of the kitchen and stomping on one of the balloons while exiting, effectively popping it on his way out.

The sound made you flinch, and it finally brought you out of your daze. You look at Alfred, and he looks back at you, giving you a reassuring nod. You had one chance, and you weren't going to mess this up.

"Oh—sorry! I can get a few more forks if you want some cake; Alfred worked really hard on—"

You were interrupted by Bruce, who raised a hand when you were about to scramble into the kitchen to get more forks.

"No need," he says, "I'll go check on Damian."

He leaves the room, and Jason quietly follows him, leaving you alone with Tim, Dick, and Alfred.

Dick gives you a guilty smile. "Sorry, Y/n, I need to go recharge my battery!" And with that, he leaves.

Tim said something similar to Dick, and soon enough, you were alone again with Alfred. You didn't understand why they seemed to avoid you like the plague, why they ignored you at every opportunity.

The cake tasted more bitter than usual when you took a bite, and for once, the smile faded from your face.

And somewhere out in the multiverse, tonight was the night that made you "snap."

────── ₊˚⊹ ᰔ ──────

Turning 18 was more uneventful than you would think it would be. You finally graduated high school, had a job at a local mart, and your family was still ignoring you. Yet your smile was still there; it was strained at times, but it still lay on your face unmoving, unchanging.

Alfred didn't know how you do it. If he were in your position, that smile would have been gone by the time he was age 10.

You hadn't thought much of moving out, but it was wavering in your head. You would mention it to the butler sometimes when the two of you conversed, much to his dismay.

You were also planning on going to college next year, maybe after you saved up a bit. You hadn't applied for a scholarship yet.

You should probably do that soon.

Your room was still your room despite everything. The colors of the walls seemed to be fading out, and the posters attached to them seemed to be in need of new tape.

What the hell do you do now that you have all the time in the world in your hands?

Well, you decided it would be eating.

You were hungry. That was literally the only reason you went downstairs, but instead, you instinctively started eavesdropping on the conversation between your family.

"—one of them had powers!" You heard a voice that sounded familiar to Dicks.

"What would they—doing here?" You weren't sure, but the tone of this one sounded familiar to Jason.

"Im not sure—careful, they—look out,"

A new voice seemed to join in. "Not—database, I think—the three of them—our side?"

"It doesn't matter—destroy them—" You were sure that voice was Damians.

"Dont trust—need to be careful." This voice sounded older than all of them; it had to be Bruce's. "Who were they? —only appeared today."

Damn, look at you! You were such a great detective. You were able to figure out each person based on the voices. At least you got your detectiveness (you're not sure if this is a word, but you don't care either way) from your dad.

Oh well, they could worry about that themselves. You needed to worry about what to do next.

You make your way through the manor, but an unease seems to be creeping up and into you. Maybe you were just hungry again? Something just felt...off.

You scratched it off as just being worried about deciding what you would be in the future, but the unease never seemed to leave.

When you approached your room, you realized what was wrong. 3 new figures were located in your room. One was sitting on the window, one was standing next to the window, and one seemed to be crouching near the floor.

Each one of them looked familiar, like you.

And you screamed—or were about to until a hand rudely interrupted you and slammed against your mouth.

"Don't fucking try it." The person standing next to the window was gone and instead appeared behind you with their hand over your mouth.

"Vg/n! Don't be rude!" The one sitting on the window cries out expressively as their fancy, almost magical-like, white clothing with f/c accents seemed to bounce. They had a ginormous bow on their chest that seemed quite inefficient to wear.

The person behind you, whom you assumed was Vg/n, only sighed. "We can't let them alert the others," The person sitting on the floor cackles, "As if the family would actually come up to check on them, you think they fuckin' care?"

"No, but Alfred might," Vg/n retorts.

You were confused as hell, but your questions were soon answered when the Vg/n spoke up. "Look, it may not seem like it, but we're all you. Or rather, alternate versions of you."

They remove the hand from your mouth, and you voice out your confusion. "What?"

"Im the version of you where you become a vigilante,"

"Im the one where you become awesome and cute!—" The one sitting on the floor is cut off by the one sitting on the window who is suddenly next to you. "Ignore them, they're V/n, it's you when you become a villain," They have a hand on the side of their mouth as they whisper to you, giggling as V/n throws out a little 'hey!' from the rude interruption.

"Im M/n! I'm the version of you where you become... magical!" M/n strikes a pose with a wand they have in their hand.

It's a lot for you to take in, and you stand there, quiet.

"Ya think we broke 'em?" V/n interrupts you from your train of thought.

You shake your head as they speak. "No, no, sorry, I just... how—why are you here?"

"Well, that's what we're trying to figure out too!" M/n tries to smile reassuringly at you. "We were just doing our business in our universes, and BOOM! we're suddenly together in an alleyway."

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Vg/n staring at V/n with an analytical look, and you had to hold in your laughter.

It must've been like whiplash to them when they found their opposite counterpart.

"Wait—so if you're all alternate versions of me, then... what version am I?"

"Well, you're like the past!" M/n's bow bounces freely on their chest. "Or you can also be the 'true' Y/n if you'd like, but that's debated,"

"Past...? How old are you guys??"

"It depends on who you're asking, but we're all around the age of 23-24!"

You stare at them in shock. Were you going to grow up into one of them? Vg/n... they looked cold, hard, almost like a mini-Bruce. They seemed to always have a frown on your face, opposed to you, who always had a smile. Scars were littered all over their body, both on the inside and outside, and you could tell with a single glance they had been through a lot.

V/n. They seemed to look much better than Vg/n, but at the same time, they seemed more cruel. As if their sense of justice was blurred between the fence of good and evil, as if they had lost themselves.

M/n was different as a whole from the other two. They appeared more 'innocent,' more 'playful,' but the smile on their face seemed to be more forced at the same time.

"So, you guys are trying to get home?"

"That's the gist of it," V/n commented.

"Well, we could ask—"

Suddenly, the three of them spoke up, yelling at you with a big fat no. Jeez, their bat families couldn't have been as bad as yours, right?

Vg/n only sighed at your puzzled face, answering the question that lingered in your mind without you having to speak up. "Basically, our lives were changed on our twelfth birthday. I decided to become a vigilante; V/n wanted revenge, and M/n found a ring that made them, well… magical. Our lives were basically the same up to that point, maybe aside from a few personality differences."

So they were just as bad. Even alternate versions of you couldn't catch a break.

"Well, we should at least discuss this somewhere else; I'm getting sick of this manor," V/n scoffed.

Vg/n didn't say anything, but you could tell they agreed with V/n too, even if they didn't want to side with a villain.

"Off we go!!!" With their wand pointed high, M/n ran out of the room with a cheer, alerting both V/n and Vg/n to chase after your other alternate self, with you following in pursuit. You couldn't even make it to the exit of the manor until you ran into your family.

Your whole big-ass family.

Not even one member—your WHOLE FUCKING FAMILY—OH MY GOD. At the WORST time ever too.

"It's you!" Tim exclaimed.

"It's me!" M/n exclaimed with glee. Vg/n and V/n got into their positions, and so did the rest of the Batfamily.

You knew this was going to turn into a mess.

────── ₊˚⊹ ᰔ ──────

a/n 2: hii ok so for vg/n and v/n you can think of whatever outfit you want, but for m/n, im thinking of like, a madoka type outfit if your going for feminine, or a suit /w a cape (and the inside is the f/c accent) if ur going for masculine!! both masc and fem outfits have a bow on the chest area!

here are the theme songs!!

(M/n = Magical name, V/n = Villain name, Vg/n = Vigilante Name)

M/n: Magnetic - Illit, and fight theme would be Right Now - Newjeans (instrumental)

V/n: Demons - Doja Cat, and fight theme would be Yummy - Ayesha Erotica

Vg/n: Homesick - Wave to Earth

[kiwriteswords]

For the trope day could we please see maybe celebrity reader and hotch? congrats btw!

Walked in and dream-came-trued it for ya [Aaron Hotchner x Popstar!Reader]

Ki2k Masterlist||MainMasterlist (not updated, sorry!)|| Ao3||Word Count: 2k|| AN: I keep seeing so much queen Sabrina Carpenter stuff around the Hotch fandom these days; she's who I envisioned reader to be like here--but obviously open to interpretation of whatever popstar you would want to be! I lowkey could never picture this happening, but it was fun, nonetheless. This is also likely my last story I'll do for trope tuesday because they take a lot of time, haha. Unless I do a short drabble!

Tags/Warnings: female reader, speculating bau team!, gossip!!, Penelope Garcia is your biggest fan!!!, you're a superstar who sells out stadiums, even rossi knows this!, mysterious!hotch, more of a fun one-shot than anything too fluffy, very team-focused, non-bau!reader

Summary: Hotch has been in a great mood, oddly enough, and when one day, he hands over tickets to Penelope for her favorite singer of all time--you--the team really begins to wonder where Hotch is spending his free time.

The bullpen of the BAU was unusually animated for a Monday morning. Derek leaned back against his desk, arms crossed, watching Reid flip through files at an astonishing rate while Penelope hovered over both their shoulders, her curiosity practically buzzing.

“Seriously, Spence, you didn’t notice anything different about Hotch last week?” Derek asked, his tone teasing but genuinely curious.

Reid, without looking up from his reading, adjusted his glasses. “Well, he did leave on time every day, which is statistically significant for him.”

“Leaving on time? That’s an understatement. The man was practically sprinting out the door at five o’clock. And he smiled--actually smiled--at me yesterday,” Penelope chimed in, her eyes wide with the thrill of the gossip.

Emily, walking in with a cup of coffee in hand, joined the group. “Don’t forget, he also took a personal day last Friday. When’s the last time Hotch took a day off that wasn’t for something work-related?”

Derek raised an eyebrow. “Exactly! Something’s up. Hotch is seeing someone; it’s got to be.”

Reid finally looked up, curiosity overcoming him. “But who would it be? I mean, we practically live at work. When would he even have the time to meet someone?”

Penelope twirled a strand of her brightly colored hair, thinking. “Oh, my sweet geniuses, that’s the million-dollar question! I could do a little cyber snooping--”

“Penelope, no hacking into Hotch’s personal life,” Emily cut off, her tone half-serious. “But I agree, it’s odd. He’s even been more... what’s the word?”

“Chill?” Derek suggested with a chuckle. “For Hotch standards, anyway.”

The group’s laughter was a mixture of disbelief and genuine amusement, just as Rossi walked up, a knowing smile playing onhis lips. “Talking about our fearless leader’s mysterious new habits?”

Derek nodded, welcoming Rossi into the conversation. “Rossi, you’re the profiler extraordinaire with all the life experience. What’s your read on this?”

Rossi stroked his chin, pretending to ponder deeply. “Well, if I were a betting man--and I occasionally am--I’d say our boy Hotch might just be reminding himself there’s more to life than case files and jet fuel.”

Reid’s brow furrowed in thought. “It’s statistically rare for individuals in high-stress jobs to make sudden changes to their behavioral patterns without a significant emotional or personal catalyst.”

“Exactly,” Penelope squealed, delighted by the support for their theories. “He’s got to be dating someone. This is just like those romance novels where the broody, mysterious man finds love and starts changing his ways.”

JJ laughed, sipping her coffee. “Let’s not get carried away. It could be anything--maybe he’s just taking up a new hobby…or maybe it’s Jack.”

“But a hobby that makes him leave work on time and take days off? That’s not just any hobby; that’s a passion,” Derek countered, his smile suggesting he was thoroughly enjoying the speculation.

The group quieted as Hotch suddenly appeared, his pace steady and his expression unreadable as always. He paused by their cluster, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Morning,” he greeted, a small, almost imperceptible smile on his lips. “I trust we’re all ready to focus on the real mysteries at hand today?”

Caught in their own theories, the team straightened up, mumbling their morning greetings. Hotch’s gaze lingered for a moment longer than usual, giving nothing away.

As he walked off towards his office, Emily whispered to the group, “See? Happier. I’m telling you, there’s definitely something--or someone--new in his life.”

Rossi chuckled, watching Hotch disappear into his office. “Or maybe our esteemed unit chief just decided it’s time to start living a little. Either way, it’s good to see.”

The team nodded in agreement, the mystery of Hotch’s unusual behavior lingering in the air, adding a layer of intrigue to their day. Derek grinned, clapping his hands together.

“Alright, let’s get to work. And maybe, just maybe, we’ll crack the case of the Happy Hotch.”

Laughter echoed softly among them as they dispersed to their desks, the day’s work ahead, but their minds still occasionally drifted to the enigma of Aaron Hotchner’s uncharacteristic lightness.

Days after the team's animated discussion about Hotch's peculiarly cheerful demeanor, Penelope Garcia was in her vibrant lair, surrounded by her kaleidoscope of tech and trinkets.

The sound of a catchy pop song filled the air, and Penelope couldn't help but dance and sing along to the tune, her voice echoing slightly off the walls lined with monitors.

She was in the middle of a particularly enthusiastic chorus when a knock at the door made her jump. Swiveling around in her chair, she saw Hotch standing at the entrance, an amused smile barely touching his lips.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," Hotch said, his eyes twinkling with a hint of humor.

Penelope chuckled, brushing off her surprise with a flamboyant wave of her hand. "Oh, it's nothing, Sir. Just enjoying some tunes while I work. You know, fuel for the brain!"

Hotch nodded, his gaze drifting momentarily to the colorful post-it notes of affirmations on her screen. "I couldn’t help but overhear. Do you like this artist?" he asked, nodding toward the speaker from where the music still played, though now at a lower volume.

Penelope’s eyes lit up, eager to share her enthusiasm. "Like her? I adore her! She’s all about empowerment and fun, and her beats are just infectious. Plus, her lyrics are, like, super relatable. She's a total queen!" Penelope exclaimed, not missing the opportunity to promote her musical taste.

Hotch's smile grew a bit as he listened to Penelope’s gushing review. "I see," he said, his voice filled with a warm, curious tone that Penelope rarely heard from him. "Thanks, Garcia."

With a final nod and a mysterious smile, he turned and left as quietly as he had arrived, leaving Penelope staring after him, slightly confused but smiling nonetheless.

She shrugged to herself and turned the volume back up, diving back into her work with the music as her soundtrack, her mind briefly wandering to wonder about Hotch’s sudden interest in pop culture.

"Maybe he’s getting a life outside those case files after all--and a decent taste in music..." she murmured to herself, her head bobbing to the beat as she focused back on her screens, the mystery of Aaron Hotchner adding yet another curious, albeit lighter, layer to her day.

The following week brought an air of excitement that seemed to linger around the BAU, particularly around Penelope Garcia's tech-filled lair. The atmosphere was thick with disbelief and joy as Penelope, unable to contain her excitement, recounted a recent encounter with Hotch to JJ and Emily.

"You guys will not believe this!" Penelope beamed, her hands animatedly waving the prized items in the air. "Hotch--our Hotch--just handed me these!" She fluttered a pair of tickets like they were sacred texts.

JJ and Emily leaned in, eyes widening as they caught sight of the tickets. "No way! How did he even get those?" Emily exclaimed, her skepticism matched by her amusement.

Rossi, overhearing the commotion as he walked in, joined the group, a curious smile playing on his lips. "What's all this about?" he inquired, peering over to see what had stirred up such excitement.

Penelope held up the tickets with a theatrical flair. "These, my dear Rossi, are tickets to see none other than--" she paused for dramatic effect, "--the popstar we were just talking about last week! And not just any tickets--Hotch got them for me!"

Rossi's eyebrows shot up, a clear sign of his surprise. "Those tickets? I heard on the news this morning that they were impossible to get. The show sold out in minutes," he commented, adding to the bewildering nature of Hotch’s gift.

Before Penelope could respond, Derek Morgan swooped in, his hand snatching the tickets from her grip to inspect them himself. "Let me see these," he said, his voice a mix of suspicion and awe. Flipping them over, his eyes scanned the details, and a slow whistle escaped him. "Ladies, these aren’t just any tickets. These are front row. Front. Row. Do you realize how good these seats are?"

JJ laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. "This is insane. Hotch pulled some serious strings. Front row to see a popstar like her? That's not just pulling strings; that's a whole concert orchestra at work!"

Penelope snatched the tickets back from Derek, clutching them close to her chest. "I knew Hotch had a secret side to him!" she exclaimed, her previous theories about his recent behavior seeming to find validation. "This is like, the best thing ever. I can't even--"

Emily leaned in, her voice low and playful. "You know what this means, right? You're going to have to get all dolled up, Penelope. Front row means you’ll probably be on camera!"

Penelope’s grin widened at the thought, already planning her outfit in her mind. "Oh, trust me, I will be camera-ready. Our stoic unit chief might just make a fangirl out of me yet!"

Rossi chuckled, shaking his head as he watched the excitement bubble over. "Well, I'll say this," he mused, "it's nice to see Hotch letting his hair down a bit, even if it’s in his own unique way."

“Whoever he’s seeing’s got some serious connections,” Derek shared. 

The group nodded in agreement, the mystery of Hotch's recent behavior adding an unexpected but welcome layer of camaraderie and speculation among the team. As they dispersed back to their tasks, the buzz of excitement remained, the BAU team finding a rare moment of lightness amidst their usual, graver responsibilities.

At the concert, JJ and Penelope stood in the front row, the pulsing lights and thumping beats of the music wrapping around them like a vibrant cloak. You were the popstar that Penelope (and the rest of society) could not get enough of.

Your performance had a cascade of dazzling visuals and soul-stirring vocals that had the crowd roaring with excitement. Each song seemed to resonate perfectly with the audience, a mix of chart-topping hits and beloved classics that had JJ and Penelope singing along, lost in the nostalgia and the thrill of the night.

They felt like they were sixteen all over again.

As the concert progressed, the atmosphere turned electric, each track bringing a new wave of cheers from the audience. You moved with a grace and confidence that commanded attention, your presence on stage both mesmerizing and awe-inspiring. The night was already unforgettable, but it was about to become even more so.

Before launching into the next song, you paused, your gaze sweeping over the crowd with a playful yet intense look.

"This next song," you began, your voice ringing clear over the din, "is a very special one. It’s for the grumpy man who changed my life. He's from here, and guess what? He's here tonight. Supporting me, despite having the most important job out there."

The crowd erupted in cheers, curiosity piqued by your heartfelt introduction. You continued, your eyes twinkling with emotion and mischief, "And because he’s here, supporting me, I want to give a shout-out to someone very special in the audience tonight--Penelope!"

Penelope’s jaw dropped, her eyes wide with shock, and JJ turned to her with an expression that mirrored her disbelief. "How does she know your name?" JJ whispered her voice a mix of excitement and confusion.

Before Penelope could formulate a response, you launched into a flirty, romantic ballad, your voice soaring as beautifully as the lyrics. As yo sang, you glanced toward the VIP section, and with a sly wink and a blown kiss, you acknowledged someone standing there..

Driven by curiosity and an overwhelming sense of wonder, JJ and Penelope followed your gaze. There, among a few shadowed figures in the VIP section, stood none other than Aaron Hotchner. His usually impassive face wore a soft, almost shy smile as he acknowledged the kiss with a slight nod, his eyes locked on the stage.

He was dressed in a black button-up and jeans--a far contrast to his usual attire. He looked relaxed…happy. Maybe not singing along to the words, but he sure knew them. He inspired them. 

The realization hit Penelope like a wave. "Oh my god, JJ, Hotch is her boyfriend? Hotch is the grumpy man who changed her life?" she gasped, her voice a mix of shock and delight.

JJ laughed, shaking her head in amazement. "Looks like we've been underestimating our boss's ability to keep secrets," she said, her eyes twinkling with humor and newfound respect for their unit chief.

As the song ended and you took a graceful bow, the crowd’s applause was deafening. JJ and Penelope clapped and cheered along, their hearts full of joy and their minds buzzing with the night’s revelations.

The concert continued, but for JJ and Penelope, the evening had transformed into something even more magical--a story they would share and reminisce about for years to come, the night their grumpy boss was revealedto be the secret boyfriend of a popstar, right before their very eyes.

[musette22]

Speaking of a “dead” fandom. Do you have a list of Stucky blogs to follow? I need to follow more and go through my followers list for fandoms I’m not in anymore but… also maybe that would help some people who are new to the fandom as well? 🎉

Mandy, my love! Great idea, thanks for asking! ❤️ It's been a really long time since I did a blog rec list, because I am genuinely terrified of missing anyone out and potentially making someone feel bad 🙈 That would never be my intention, obviously!

But I swear, from the bottom of my heart: if you're not on this list and you feel like you should have been, it was most likely just one of those brain = sieve things and nothing personal at ALL. Which is also why I want to wholeheartedly encourage anyone who also considers themselves a Stucky-centric blog and would like to be added to this list to let me know/drop a comment in the notes/reblog with a note etc. etc. The more of us the merrier!!

Also, if you're included in this list but you would rather not be, for whatever reason, let me know and I'll remove you! No hard feelings. I also think there are a couple of blogs that are no longer super active / mainly Stucky blogs, but I did check that they all posted at least in the last couple of weeks, so most of them should still be active!

The Tumblr tag limit per post is sadly 50, so not all @'s on the list will be clickable and not everyone will get a notification of this, so I'm going to try to tag the blogs that aren't tagged under the cut in the notes instead, in order to notify them (so those added there by me are the same ones as on the list below)

Stucky blog recs under the cut, in no particular order!

@fandomfluffandfuck

@rillils

@buckvrogers

@sparkagrace

@voylitscope

@gloromeien

@metalbvcky

@dharmasharks

@leihaddock

@amarriageoftrueminds

@lavenderbuckyy

@steviesmarigold

@randomfandompenguin

@writeyourdarlings

@scriggle-scraggle

@wewringmagicfromtheordinary

@beardoesdoodles

@stuckydrewx

@yourbuckies

@smerfols

@incorrectstevebucky

@steveandbvcky

@riricitaa

@bluesimplicity

@dreadlockholiday

@stuckytogether

@hereforhappystucky

@stevebuckythyla

@luna-rainbow

@caps-boo-bear

@howdoyousleep3

@estelior

@stoveandhisbucket

@im-just-a-random-fandom-girl

@godmerlin

@capibuck

@fenrir-flamekeeper

@bucky-boychik-barnes

@ace-bucket

@shkretart

@smlmsworld

@hipsterdiva

@mentalmeles

@airybmore

@stevefightmerogerss

@guiltypleasureisfun

@twomisplacedsouls

@zenaidamacrouras1

@ace-in-reserve

@msilverstar

@gfawkesphoenixchokingonashes

@thevampireazula

@booksandabeer

@xoxobuckybarnes

@bromcommie

@burberrycanary

@partofthefandom

@fsbc-librarian

@fsbc-stucky-library

@cinnamoncascadian

@wintershield-always

@evenwhenihadnothingihad-stucky

@aimmyarrowshigh

@dienaziscum

@lilyinthesnow

@thestuckynation

@kaiya3333

@son-justdont

@stuckytoyoulikeglue

@norelationtoatticus

@transstuckywriter

@steverogersnotebook

@onecontinuoussigh

@fizz-pop-thwip

@whiteglovemanor

@arctic-turtle-cassiopeia

@artwinx

@behindthesehazeleyes27

@haz-n-boo-world

@steebling

@montyc

@forwritingwork

@steevbuckk

@its-tortle

@raven-writes-fanfic

@sarahowritesostucky

@burnin-brighter

@stevebvck

@geekinthefuschiahair

@innerslumber

@postmodernmulticoloredcloak

@sebastian-lips

@not-withoutyou

@circaclementine

@vincentvanh03

@bisxualbucky

@thesocietyporg

@aciremii

@ywecanthavenicethingsanymore

@turtle-steverogers

@steviesunrises

@somanywords

@karrieharrie

@between-a-ship-and-a-hard-place

@supersoldiercore

@livingoutload

@winterbaebucky

@reducedemtasketch

@preyasi

@bittersweet-in-boston

@stucky-just-stucky

@rachelica9

@kiu-k

@stucky-in-love-with-you

@fishyandclintbarton

@hey-rissyroo

@possibleplatypus

@ariane-giudice

@backonefish

@martelldoran

@schoolyardtobattlefield

@kalee60

@chubbiedumpling

@cat-ws

@greyhoundsgirl

@winterofthedarkestlight

@deadto27

@petite-madame

@kijrbds

@deusv-ult

@weeklybuckydoodles

@stjohn27

@glittery-koi

@buckysbud

@hettolandija

@lucidasidera

@barnestags

@waverleyrogers

@whoastitchywoman

@duckinatruck

@murkycrush

@thewintersoldier3

@whendidyou-leaveheaven

@faeriecap

@captain-dorito-is-a-snack

@princeofbadassery

@timetopanic34

@16woodsequ

[sir-adamus]

when you learn more about show production and how much time and effort goes into developing a show from concept to screen, the fact that RWBY went from concept to airing in less than a year is wild

like that whole early production is absolutely not normal show development, but makes sense when you remember it's coming from amateurs who had never made a show like this before (again, RT primarily was producing machinima where the pipeline was inherently streamlined), so it's rough around the edges, episodes would release with visual glitches that Monty would go back and fix as they got pointed out by subscribers on the RT site before the episode hit youtube, a lot of things were rushed and some sequences got changed last minute without everyone knowing about it (Miles famously didn't know that the fight with Torchwick in the finale had been altered to include Penny cutting the bulkheads in half because he hadn't seen the episode until they were sitting down to record the commentary on the season)

obviously the production pipeline changed and evolved over the years following, but it's still a major difference between RWBY as a webshow made by amateurs who were having to learn as they were going, versus a fully produced professionally animated series (like, hell, Ice Queendom was in development for years before we heard about it). and i think that's something we as a fandom have to keep in mind as we wait for news on future volumes of the show - with RT shutting down, RWBY's production essentially has to basically start over, and is almost certainly going to be done under more professional capacity than it was at RT, so the development of that production is almost definitely going to take longer getting going before we see anything (even once Viz are past whatever legal stuff they will have had to work out)

[animasola86]

🚩 FORCED: 01

Accidents happen. Mistakes were made, and while you hoped the handsome stranger would help you through your dilemma, you ended up in his service, paying off a debt that would have changed your life for the worse if you wouldn't have "accepted" his "offer". Unfortunately, your life is still about to change, if you want to or not, and it's not getting any better...

a morally gray man!your new master ✖️ female!reader

WARNING: This is a DARK FANTASY EROTICA! Beware of the following tags: NSFW! Dead dove: do not eat! Explicit sexual content! Noncon! Master/servant dynamic! Bad BDSM etiquette! Manipulation! Free use! Hurt/No comfort! (🚩Please do not read/engage if any of these tags are triggering to you!)

WORDS: 3.1k 🚩 READ ON AO3! 🚩 SERIES MASTERLIST

A/N: Before I further warn you about the following depravities, let me address the elephant in the room: Yes, this is tagged with various fandom tags, no, this is not about your favorite blorbo, BUT I wrote a very ambiguous male character here, no descriptions, no name, so I invite you to fill in the blanks and MAKE him your favorite blorbo, call him Joel, call him Tony, call him Dean, whatever you want, imagine him as your favorite character, he can be ANYONE who's tall, (subjectively) handsome, rich, slightly intimidating, morally gray, and who would consider himself a Master.

Our Reader character is very ambiguous too, all I "blessed" her with, is hair long enough to braid and female genitalia. As I usually do, I tend to give my vague female characters pet names, and hers is Doll.

Now back to the warnings. I hope you considered the warnings I already gave above, so just know that this story is very dark, there's no comfort, it's rough, it's depraved, it's a collection of the darkest kinks I could think of (even those I told myself to never explore). Sometimes you just need to write (and read?) something that makes you highly uncomfortable, and maybe, through that discomfort you'll discover something about yourself. There is pleasure through pain after all, right?

So if you want to follow me on this wild, wild ride and are not afraid to face some dark themes, I welcome you and I thank you for reading these long notes before you dove into the thick of it. Please enjoy my darkest story yet!

And remember: This is fiction!!!

🔻 Chapter 1 🔺 Chapter 2+3

Not that it mattered in the moment, but if you could have formed a coherent thought, you'd wonder how you'd ended up like this: strapped to something one can only call a medieval torture device, wearing a blindfold and a ring gag, completely helpless, while getting a very unrelenting ass pounding.

It certainly wasn't something you'd planned.

The memory was hazy, but it had something to do with driving your rusty old hunk of metal of a car into the rear end of a shiny new, very expensive looking sports car. You'd been quite tipsy and shouldn't have gotten behind the wheel in the first place, but it happened, and while nobody got hurt (yet), you had been devastated.

Your options were slim. You knew your insurance couldn't do jack, you'd have to pay for the repairs yourself (because it was so obviously your fault), and on top of that you'd been (very) drunk, and if the police got involved, you'd lose your driver's license, which would ruin you further. No means to get to your job, you'd lose that too. And where were you supposed to get the money from then? Definitely not out of your starving bank account.

It was a spiral of doom, and it all led you to fall onto your knees, overdramatic as you were in your headless, drunken state, and you were begging. The man who had exited the sports car watched you curiously. He wasn't even angry, maybe mildly inconvenienced, but when you started pleading, his demeanor changed. There was a dark smirk on his handsome face.

Because, of course, you had to rear-end the car of the most gorgeous man you'd ever seen. On top of the dizzying sensation of numerous cocktails (and countless shots and in-between beers) swimming through your system and the overwhelming guilt of causing an accident, you felt a strange and very inopportune warmth between your thighs.

He was hot, and you were hot for him, and it only made it worse to be on your knees in front of him, telling him I'll do anything, please, no police, it'll be my ruin, I can't afford the repairs but I wanna do something to help, make this better, please...

He'd taken a step closer, his hand moving towards your tear soaked face. You must have looked terrible, blotchy reddened skin, make-up smeared, mascara running down your cheeks in ugly rivulets, but he still cupped your burning face, thumb tracing the shape of your trembling bottom lip.

“You'd do anything, doll?” he asked, and you didn't even mind the pet name you would normally cringe about (or the inappropriate touch or the strange undertone), his voice was just so low, soft and deep, a gentle rumble in the air, very distracting.

You nodded into his hand, whimpering a breathless “Yes, sir”.

A smile made his lips twitch. “You know,” he said, caressing your face, fingertips brushing your unruly hair behind your ear. “It so happens that I need a new servant,” he continued, and you stared at him, mesmerized and confused. “You could pay off your debt while working for me.”

His suggestion made you blink, your mind too clouded to fully comprehend it, but you nodded again, a shaky smile playing around your lips. “Yes. Yes, I could. I would, I mean, I will! I'll do anything,” you repeated, leaning your head into his palm.

“Get up,” he ordered, and you stood immediately, albeit on trembling legs, having to look up at the tall man who still held your face. His other hand slipped into the inner pocket of his suit jacket to retrieve his phone.

You were staring at him, dumbstruck, desperate, drunk, watching him dial some number, then giving a bunch of orders. You barely registered any of it, too intoxicated (infatuated?) and shocked, too busy thinking about your spiraling life, you just heard something about a tow truck and some garage, and when he was finished, he winked at you, slowly guiding you to the passenger side of his car, his hand warm on your lower back.

While your car seemed damaged beyond repair with how the hood had been crushed into an accordion shape, there was a deep scratch in the probably very expensive matte black paint of his bumper, a few dents, a broken tail light, but nothing that kept his car from driving.

Not that you noticed too much of it as he ushered you onto the soft leather seat. He even leaned over you and buckled you in, and you were mind-blown, mind basically shattered at this point, too enamored to think any further than the tip of your nose, too distracted to realize you'd left your purse in the glove compartment of your car.

Not that it would matter.

The man slipped behind the wheel, his eyes holding you hostage while you both waited for the tow truck. There might have been small talk, but you couldn't remember, the world was muffled at that point, your head spinning, your tongue too heavy to move. Once those flashing lights that weren't from any police car flickered across the dark parking lot, the man drove off with a roar of the engine, quickly speeding away from the scene of your demise.

Demise? Again, you couldn't make that connection, not in that moment, all you felt was a strange relief. He took care of the car, he'd take care of you too, right? You'd work for him, pay off your debt, keep living your boring little life once it was all done.

It was all a blur when the car arrived at one of those fancy metal gates, and the house that loomed behind them was too massive to comprehend. You were floating, still too drunk to properly function or think a single rational thought. Doesn't matter. It'll be alright.

You remember stepping into a large foyer, eyes too unfocused to take in all the splendor around you. He grabbed your wrist then and pulled you after him into an office where you fell into a soft chair. The rustling of paper made you curious, but when you looked down at the stack he'd put down in front of you, you frowned.

“Just to make this legal,” he said in that honey sweet baritone voice of his that melted your panties right off. “You'll sign this and you'll become a part of this household, as you'll serve me in whatever way I see fit. We'll find a place for you. You'll get your own room, you'll always be fed, and I'm sure you can handle whatever needs to be done, right? Consider your debt paid off, doll.”

As confused as you were, you were also too grateful for this turn of events. Stumbling out of a bar after a night of too much alcohol to try to forget your shitty little life, drunk driving into this man's car to end up working for him, living in his special mansion? Why not? Sounds reasonable. Sounds better than having to return to your small apartment that still reeked of the previous tenant's love for garlic.

It didn't even matter that he never told you who he was, that you didn't exchange any names to begin with. Who is he? Doesn't matter. He seemed wealthy, influential, generous in his offer to let you do this instead of ruining your life by insisting to do it the official way. He was offering you redemption, and you'd be very stupid to deny it. It'll be alright. No need to read the long text in front of you either, not that you could focus on a single word anyway. It'll be fine. You'll be a maid, probably, you can do that. Dust and clean or whatever, easy.

And so you grabbed the pen he was holding out to you and left the strange squiggle of your signature on the lines he marked for you, not even wondering why he'd have this contract ready to sign so quickly. Does this happen often? Doesn't matter.

Your head was spinning, and the way he smiled at you didn't make it better. You found yourself smiling back, somewhat dumbly, too buzzed to react any differently. You felt sleepy too, a strange mix of nerves and utter exhaustion, and you barely noticed when he stood next to you all of a sudden, gently grabbing your elbow to pull you to your feet.

Then you were walking with him, to an elevator, and it was going down, and your stomach jumped to the ceiling, nausea grabbing you tightly. The cubicle stopped with a sudden jerk, the doors slid open with a ding, and he kept dragging you along, through a dimly lit corridor lined with doors. You felt lightheaded now, on the verge of throwing up all the sugary drinks you'd consumed earlier, but he didn't stop, didn't give your body a second to rest before you reached the end of the hallway.

He opened the nearest door with something like a key card and gently pushed you into the room beyond. You stumbled, turned to look at him, but he was already closing the door behind you, shutting you in. You blinked, confusion mixing with the vertigo gripping your body, and the small noise of a lock clicking into place got lost when you started retching.

You somehow made it into the small room to your left that held a toilet and a sink, and found yourself hugging the bowl as you emptied your stomach into it. You were still dizzy when your body decided it was enough, and after a long moment of just sitting on the tiled floor, trying to catch your breath, you managed to stand up and lean over the sink. No mirror. Strange.

The light coming from a single bulb dangling from the ceiling hurt your eyes, so you didn't pay too much attention to the unusually spartan light fixture. You washed your hands, then your face, then washed your mouth out. There was a small shelf to the side, holding a prepackaged toothbrush and some tooth paste, and you ripped it open with shaking hands and brushed the vile taste off your tongue.

Feeling only slightly better, you went back into the room, finding nothing but a bed. Not even a bedside table. Just a bed, and it wasn't as comfortable or big looking as you would have expected in a mansion this large and luxurious. It still served a purpose, and you fell onto it and curled up, too exhausted to think any more about what happened. Or what might await you.

Doesn't matter.

With your head spinning and the room spinning along, you fell asleep to dreams of more spinning, of cars and handsome men, flashing lights, hands on your face, hands on your hips, hands pulling off your clothes, fingers pinching your nipples, fingers dipping between your shamefully wet folds, of moans and grunts echoing through a small room, and it was still spinning, and the bed was shaking and squeaking, and you were moved and handled, and when you woke up even more exhausted, you found yourself lying on your stomach, cheek resting on a wet spot where your drool had gathered on the pillow.

You rolled onto your side, feeling a strange soreness deep within you. There was something sticky between your thighs, and you blamed it all on drinking too much, having strange wet dreams, pushing yourself too far. Stumbling off the bed, you groaned, pressing a hand to your stomach as a deep-rooted pain poked at your insides. You didn't even notice that you were stark naked at first. Slowly, you made your way into the bathroom, sat on the toilet for what felt like forever, a strange burning sensation assaulting your senses.

Your head was heavy, hurting, full of cotton that pressed hard against your skull, threatening to break through. Not sure cotton can do that. You brushed your teeth again, blinking at the empty spot where you'd expect a mirror on the wall. It took you a very long time to finally put all the pieces together, or at least some of them.

Your clothes were gone. You were naked, aching, had to clean off a strange stickiness from between your legs, your insides hurt in a way you never experienced before, and sitting was very uncomfortable somehow too. Last night was a blur, but you remembered the accident, the man, signing a contract, paying off your debt by... by doing what? Being a servant? That's what he'd said, right? What kind of servant? you wondered as you sat on the edge of the bed, breathing harder as you tried to make sense of it all.

The room alone was strange. The only light came from the (doorless) bathroom, from that grimly looking light bulb swinging softly from the ceiling. There were no windows, just the bed and the door, a sturdy looking door without a knob or handle, just a key pad to the side. What is this place? A cell of some sort? Why were you here? Why were you naked? Where did your clothes go? Who had taken them? Who had been here? What had happened to you?

Caught in your own mind, you grabbed the sheets and draped them around your bare body. You weren't cold, but it felt better to cover up like this. If you wouldn't have to fight the aftermath of a night full of flowery drinks and gut-punching shots, you would certainly panic, start pacing, try to find a way out. But you were hurting, from the top of your head down into your toes, all nerve endings on edge, and the pain was that all-consuming thing around you, allowing not a single rational thought, just an overall feeling of uneasiness.

You didn't know how long you just sat there, staring holes into the bland wall, when the door suddenly opened with a click and a hiss. It swung open, and the man from last night entered, greeting you with a smile. You blinked at him, lips trembling, mind reeling.

“Good morning,” he said as he walked in and closed the door behind him. It clicked shut automatically. He was carrying a box in his hands. You remained on the edge of the bed, not daring to move as you watched him put it down next to you, nodding towards it. “I brought you something to wear,” he added nonchalantly.

Still confused but also intrigued, you slid part of the blanket off your shoulder and moved your hand to open the box, hoping for new clothes, maybe a maid's uniform, something that would make sense, but what you saw lying on the soft red velvet lining the insides of the container made your stomach turn violently. You recognized three coils of black rope, but the other item made no sense to you.

It was a metal hook, for lack of a better term, with a loop at one end that was probably for the rope to pass through, but the other side was... it was rounded, elongated, several ball shaped protrusions in a hard line, the metal formed in some sort of arch, giving it the hook-shape.

You swallowed hard, looking up at the man who watched you with dark eyes and an impassive expression, no longer smiling. Looking away more than intimidated, you stared back into the box and noticed a few other things. A thick leather band, like a collar, with a hoop at the back and three little belts in the front, the width of it making you stiffen, your throat already closing up just thinking of having something that big around it. You'd assume that was what it was for anyway.

It was strange how calm you were, how unusually distant. You had so many questions, but you couldn't find the strength to ask them. His presence felt ominous, like you couldn't breathe, oppressive, dominating. You felt small, even smaller than you were, vulnerable without your clothes, trapped in this weird room. And somehow it also made sense. You remembered the things he told you, and all of them seemed true. Having a room, doing what needs to be done, serving him. There were no details, but your mind was reeling with filling the voids.

Servant. Not a maid, but a slave.

Why was this revelation so eerily comforting? It shouldn't be. You should be freaking out, he took you away, forced you to sign a contract (patiently holding the pen, waiting for you, while you made the biggest mistake of your life), expecting you to come to terms with your new role right on the spot – and frankly, you felt yourself accepting it.

You didn't have a choice, did you? You were young and naive, yes, but you knew that contracts held value, and you signed one, you remembered it, not clearly, but it was there, and you did it because you needed to repay your debt, pay for the repair of his car that you were at fault of damaging. It was either this (whatever this was) or dealing with insurance and police and losing your car and your driver's license and your job and all the other things you'd accumulated over the years of independence. It wasn't much, but you didn't want to lose any of it.

And you wouldn't have to work here forever, right? A car repair, a new paint job, wouldn't be costing that much, would it? He'd have to let you go eventually. But you didn't read the contract... Something cold crashed down your spine, making you gasp, finally opening the door to more hysterical breaths, your lungs aching under the need to get enough oxygen to make you fully understand what was going on.

As soon as you started hyperventilating, you found yourself pressed to the bed, a strong hand closing around your throat, further limiting your airways. Your eyes widened as he loomed over you, staring down darkly. “Please,” you croaked out, your hands frantically grasping for his wrist, your body finally remembering it could move.

He shook his head. “You signed a contract. You gave your life to me,” he said quietly, his low voice menacing and dark now. “You want to pay off your debt, don't you, doll?”

You kicked beneath him as he climbed over you, one knee pressed between your legs, hand tightening around your neck. Gasping, thighs trembling as he rubbed the soft fabric of his pants against your aching sex, you opened your mouth, tried to tell him no, not like this, it was a mistake, please, but he only squeezed a little more, fingers pressing into the sides of your throat, black spots dancing in front of your eyes.

The room was spinning again, you felt so heavy, so exhausted, your fingernails scratched over his skin before your hands fell away limply, and then, darkness surrounded you, switching off the screeching voices of panic in your head instantly.

🔻 Chapter 1 🔺 Chapter 2+3

End notes: This was just the introduction, from now on, anything goes, and it goes hard. Stay tuned!

New chapter every Saturday at around 9pm CEST!

Thank you for braving this depravity reading!

MASTERLIST 🔻 AO3 🔻 ORIGINAL WORKS

[jackrabbit-fandom]

I've been sucked into the K-pop demon hunter fandom, so im making headcanons

The first ones gonna be bobby, cause ik we all love this guy. Im gonna separate platonic from romantic cause some are gonna involve the girls.

Gn for the reader but will involve feminine topics

If yall want any of they others lemme know. I'll write for the saja boys and huntrix.

Platonic:

- i fully believe bobby would have pads/tampons and pain meds for the girls at all times for just in case

- He is the most caring person ever. This is obvious, but he has no issue standing up to a person that makes you or his girls uncomfortable, another idol, manager, or fan.

- hes probably super carful about making sure your eating properly. i subscribe to the 'bobby is a ex idol' theory, so he probably saw the toxic side and is very big about making sure that isnt put on you or his girls.

- platonic cuddles all the way, the best hugger every

- hes always there to comfort you or his girls if its needed, he'll listen to you talk and try his best to cheer you up or give advice. If you dont want ether he'll instead just be a ear to listen

Romantic:

- like i said, bobby is the best hugger. His cuddles are absolutely the best, whether you wanna be a big spoon or little spoon. It's always the best

- his girls are very important to him, so telling them about you two would have to happen. I can see them being somewhat protective, mainly mira. "You hurt him ill break you, understand?" They love their dear manager, so try not to hurt him k?

- arguments are probably rare, but they will happen none the less. He'll try his best to keep them calm, though, and talk it all out. Though if it ends up going to insulting his girls or anything of the sort, he'll immediately put his foot down. He knows he spends a lot of time with them and with work, so you'll likely have to just deal with that. Hes willing to try and find a compromise, but he'll never throw them under the bus.

- He's probably the kind that gives gentle kisses, holding your face in his hands and giving slow, sweet ones. Holding his face and peppering him in kisses is a good way to fluster him, though

- you and his girls would be his whole world, but its fairly obvious he has some insecurities in being able to keep them together or keeping you happy, so make sure to reassure him

- 3% is actually quite a lot given how much huntix probably makes (they own a damn tower and obviously have more than one private jet), so hed pretty well off. He probably spoils you a bit, getting you little gifts to show how much he cares.

- i dont think he'd care what gender you were. I headcanon him as pansexual tbh. If you were trans hed try his best to make sure you felt comfortable helping you dress up to look more like your chosen gender whatever that may be, and trying to make sure you feel beautiful/handsome

- if you were afab, like in the platonic ones, he'd make sure to have whatever you needed for that time of the month and would reassure you if you felt dysphoric or just overall awful

Overall, bobby is a great manager/father figure and would make a great partner. He deserves all the love he gets and more.

[cressidagrey]

The Queen of Romantasy and the Race Car Prince - Chapter 15

Pairing: Lando Norris x Elizabeth "Lizzie" Treshton (Original Character)

Summary:

Elizabeth Treshton—bestselling romantasy author, queen of fae heartbreak, and sworn devotee of a carefully structured routine—never expected her service dog to abandon protocol and diagnose a Formula 1 driver with something. But that’s exactly what happens when Mara the wonder-dog ditches Lizzie’s side to aggressively alert to none other than Lando Norris in the middle of a coffee shop.

Warnings and Notes: 

Mention of epilepsy and service animals. I don't myself suffer from epilepsy, so I asked my IRL friend, who thankfully was nice enough to let me ask her all the questions I could come up with. The rest I asked Reddit. So everything that's wrong...that's totally my fault and not on purpose. Also Discussion of toxic media/fandom.

Also, this is the first time of me trying to write fake articles/transcripts...so be nice, please?

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Podcast Transcript: The Paddock Report

Episode Title: Silverstone Predictions & Paddock Whispers

Hosts: Jake Carter and Emma Turner

Jake:  Alright, moving on from the usual weekend predictions—there’s been a bit of... let’s call it energy coming from McLaren lately. Obviously, Silverstone is always a big one for the British drivers—Lewis Hamilton, George Russell, and of course, Lando Norris. But I have to say… there’s something going on at McLaren, and specifically with Lando, and they are being very tight-lipped about it.

Emma: Yeah, something is definitely brewing over there. And I’m not talking about car upgrades…There’s been this weird… I don’t know, energy? Around McLaren. Like, normally, they’re very open with their media content. They love a good teaser, they love stirring up excitement. But this time? It’s like they’re trying not to say something

Jake: Which, historically, means something is up. Because let’s be real, McLaren PR loves a good hype moment. But this? It’s different. They’re trying really hard to keep a lid on it.

Emma: And it’s not contract-related, as far as we know. Lando’s locked in. It’s not a last-minute driver swap. So, what are we thinking?

Jake: My money’s on a personal announcement.

Emma: Oh, absolutely. I wouldn’t be surprised if this is a WAG situation.

Jake: You think Lando’s finally gone public with someone?

Emma: Maybe? Or at least, something’s happening where they know the media will ask about it, and they’re trying to get ahead of it.

Jake: Or, hear me out, it’s even bigger.

Emma: Like… marriage? A secret engagement? A baby?!

Jake: Okay, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

Emma: All I’m saying is—McLaren never keeps things this quiet unless there’s something big brewing. And whatever it is, we’re going to find out very, very soon.

Jake: Exactly. Whatever’s happening, we’ll find out soon enough. But mark my words—Lando Norris is hiding something.

Max Fewtrell on Stream

Chat is an absolute disaster, filled with variations of “Max, spill” and “Lando girlfriend when???”

MaxFewtrell: You lot are relentless. Actually relentless. I should’ve put slow mode on.

Squints at the chat.

MaxFewtrell: "Max, we saw the dog." – Congrats, you have eyes. Very impressive.

MaxFewtrell: "He literally said 'my girlfriend’s dog' on stream, explain yourself." – Okay, first of all, I don’t have to explain anything. Second of all… yeah, that was funny.

Grins as chat goes feral.

MaxFewtrell: "So he DOES have a girlfriend??" – I mean, I’m not saying that. But I’m also not not saying that.

MaxFewtrell: "Hard launch when?" – You guys are so impatient, honestly. Maybe soon. Maybe this weekend. Maybe you should all stay very, very tuned.

Leans forward conspiratorially.

MaxFewtrell: But hey, I’m just some guy on Twitch. What do I know?

Elizabeth Treshton on Fantasy, Fame, and Finding Magic in the Real WorldBy Jolene Cooper

When Elizabeth Treshton first started writing Season of Fate, she had no audience in mind—just a story itching to be told.

“I was twenty, home from university for the summer, and just writing for fun,” she recalls. “I’d sit in my dad’s garden with a notebook, scribbling away, thinking maybe one day I’d finish something just for myself.”

That “something” became a literary sensation. The Seasons of Fate series has since sold millions of copies worldwide, with a devoted fanbase that dissects every detail, from character arcs to hidden lore. The upcoming film adaptation of A Spring of Secrets and Thorns has only heightened the excitement, turning Treshton into one of the most talked-about authors in romantasy today.

And yet, she still seems a little surprised by it all.

“I don’t think I ever fully processed how big it’s gotten,” she admits with a laugh. “Every time I see someone with my book, I have to resist the urge to ask if they’re enjoying it.”

The Unexpected Rise 

Treshton’s writing blends intricate world-building with deeply personal, emotionally charged relationships. Fans praise her for crafting characters who feel real—flawed, fierce, and achingly human, even in a world of magic and myths.

“I love that romantasy lets us explore relationships in heightened, dramatic ways,” she says. “It’s adventure and escapism, but at the core, it’s about love—whether that’s romantic, familial, or self-love. That’s what really draws people in.”

She credits her love of grand storytelling to her lifelong obsession with Formula 1, of all things. 

“I grew up watching F1,” she says. “My dad was a huge Ferrari fan, so I was basically raised on race weekends and heartbreak.” She grins. “I think that’s why I gravitate toward emotionally devastating storytelling.”

Writing While Living with Epilepsy

Treshton has been open about her journey with epilepsy, something she’s lived with since childhood. It’s a condition that affects her daily life, including her writing process.

“There are days when I can write 5,000 words without stopping,” she says. “And there are days when my brain just says, ‘Nope, not today.’”

She’s learned to listen to those limits. “For a long time, I thought I had to push through everything. But then I realized that rest is just as important as work.”

Her service dog, Mara, plays a huge role in maintaining that balance.

“She’s my shadow,” Treshton says, glancing down as Mara, a brown Labrador, dozes beside her. “She keeps me safe, but she also keeps me grounded. If I’ve been working too long, she’ll put her head on my laptop and sigh dramatically until I take a break.”

Mara has become a beloved fixture in the Season of Fate fandom, with fans drawing art of her as various mythical creatures from the books.

“I love that people adore her as much as I do,” Treshton says. “She deserves all the attention.”

A Love Story of Her Own

For someone who has built a career on writing sweeping, emotionally charged romances, Treshton has always been remarkably private about her own love life.

When asked if her stories are inspired by personal experience, she hesitates for a moment, then smiles.

“Not at first,” she admits. “I used to think love was something that only happened to other people. Not me.”

She pauses, a small, knowing smile playing at her lips. “Turns out, I was wrong about that.”

It’s the kind of answer that will undoubtedly send fans into a frenzy, but she offers no further details. Just a quiet acknowledgment that, for all the fantasy she’s written, real life has its own magic too.

What’s Next?

With A Winter of Ash and Starligh, the final installment of Season of Fate, set to release later this year, and the movie adaptation moving forward, Treshton’s world is only getting bigger.

“I’m excited,” she says. “A little terrified, but mostly excited.”

And as for what comes after that?

She grins. “I guess we’ll see.”

[nicosaysnope]

i do find it very interesting how different the foxes and the trojans go about caring for and supporting each other. well, actually, i mostly find it interesting how differently people seem to feel about it, especially in regards to kevin's drinking problem.

the way kevin's clearly unhealthy relationship with alcohol doesn't get condemned or fixed in the original trilogy for example is something that many people in the fandom have been pretty upset and critical about for many years and jean's reaction to it seemed to have really moved people (though that in particular, imo, had at least as much to do with jean's very restricted and in itself unhealthy relationship to food and drinks as with him uniquely seeing and caring about kevin's substance abuse issues. like, yeah, he really, really cares about him, but i don't think he'd have been thaaat much less upset if kevin was coping by eating chips or something. but well, whatever).

but to me, that never really read as no one caring about kevin or thinking alcohol is the ideal way for him to regulate his emotions.

the whole premise of how wymack runs the foxes and how they treat each other is just very built around the idea that all these people have been through awful things and that the way they'll cope with that won't always be pretty. but as long as they cope at all, they'll be around for another day, and another, which'll buy them to actually get better.

which is how you get stuff like wymack, in good conscience, not only tolerating but at times even soliciting underage drinking. and looking past the harder drugs some of the team are doing. and it's how him and the team all accept that neil is definitely lying about pretty much everything but mostly just leave him be. and how they all agreed to let andrew get off his legally mandated medication during games even though that could have terrible consequences for all of them. and how matt's mom said "sure random eighteen year old calling me on the phone, do give my addict son speedballs, you seem to have a higher success rate at getting teenagers clean than me 👍" because they all view life less as you're either doing good or you doing bad, and more as you're either surviving whatever it takes to do so, or you don't, so who cares if you aren't coping in healthy or acceptable ways, as long as you are coping. (and then once they're ready to work on getting better, they do have a support system in place to help them get there)

meanwhile the trojans are mostly pretty normal and well adjusted, so they have a pretty clear idea of what a healthy person who's doing well looks like, and that's what they generally want for other people, especially those they care about. so when they see someone who's not doing well and not dealing with it in healthy ways they are very direct about it, sort of a "your behaviour is not healthy, stop doing it" thing. your eating habits are really restrictive? try eating different food anyways, it's really good, i prommy. you hurt yourself when you're upset? here's how to physically stop this from hurting. you get incredibly startled when you're touched unexpectedly? well, just let me try hugging you again. you drink to deal with your feelings? please don't, it's not good for you.

and obviously that's a lot more normal and straight forward than what the foxes are doing, and it's done with love and support. and a lot of fans find it very moving and beautiful and sweet. but i also know that i'm not the only person who was really put off by this and still finds it kinda disconcerting. to me it feels, especially in contrast to the foxes, who would largely find this sooo overbearing and rude and uncomfortable, kinda like strongarming someone into doing well, with (at least in the context of these specific books) shockingly little regard for personal boundaries.

my point isn't that one's better than the other or anything, i think both approaches are going to work differently well for different people and within the books it makes perfect sense why the different teams would act this way, and it's also perfectly understandable why some people really resonate with one approach and find the other irritating or unkind. it's simply some thoughts that have been rattling around in my head. building up to: nothing really. oh well

[olderthannetfic]

I'm just curious because I haven't been online quite as long as other people here, do you or your readers have any tips on coming to terms with things ending? the tumblr layoffs make me super nervous about this place going down; this place has been my only social media for 10+ years and I've never had to deal with losing a site before, so it's a really big point of anxiety for me. if anyone has any experiences on how they've coped with something similar that would be great.

--

Sure!

I'm not that concerned myself because LJ wasn't my first fandom home either. Tumblr and LJ strike me as fairly similar cases in the sense that both were The Fandom Home for a decade. If you got your start in The Only Fandom Home 5eva, seeing the community die a protracted death (even if the site is still up) is horrifying. The social dynamics are never quite "right" after. People go to some awful, unworkable platform that is just mystifying because it doesn't have the key features that obviously a good fandom home must have. Why are my friends moving? Surely, those were the key features for them too? Guys? Guys?

Emotionally, nonnie, it's going to suck. I give us about 10 minutes before the replies are filled with people's sad LJ feelings. Regardless of where you go next, you'll probably remain sad about tumblr.

But for me, tumblr is like major fandom home #4 or so. I tend to think more in terms of practicality at this point: Where will I go to find people to hang out with? What communities would be fun? Is this an opportunity to cut back on internet time? How do I figure out where The Next Hot Thing is if and when there is one?

A big mistake I saw in the end of LJ period from like 2007-2011 or so was people repeatedly asking where "we" were all going next. The answer was tumblr. The answer had been tumblr for years. They were still lost and confused in an era when that just wasn't necessary.

There are zine people who never got into LJ who do fandom on Facebook today.

"We" never all go the same place. You're going to lose track of some people.

The key to moving on and not wallowing in toxic nostalgia is to check out new options proactively. If a format blows goats, you don't have to go to whatever microblogging shithole is trending now. (Seriously, I cannot say enough bad things about sites geared towards short posts only.)

Passively wringing one's hands and crying about the death of [whatever] just makes it worse. Keeping an eye on what's big and proactively choosing to skip some of it helps one feel in control. This is true for any FOMO-laden topic, not just fandom platforms. I think that will help with the anxiety and the irrational fears. The sadness... well, it's normal to feel sad.

[haeryna]

i would recognize you in a million lifetimes ↪ gojo satoru x reader x geto suguru

← previous | ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ | next →

summary: they say that a child who is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth. you would've been more inclined to believe it, if you weren't the only person who got burned. but now, suguru and satoru are offering you the salve and you're not sure whether it's enough to fix the scars that they left behind.

tw: sfw! angst with a happy ending, satoru is a cocky shit, suguru spends half the time on his knees in this (BUT NONSEXUALLY), more abandonment mentions because it's crucial to the plot, mentions of homophobia. lots of misunderstandings.

notes: divider by @/saradika-graphics. sorry, this chapter is a little shorter lol but surprise!! love how i said i was gonna take a break and then one day i suddenly realized kind of what i wanted to ensuing conversation to be. ending is a little open-ended; as of right now, i have no further plot points, but obviously that could change in the future (feel free to let me know where you want it to go/what you want me to write more about set in this universe!). thank you to everyone who loved and supported me when i first started this series; it was my first time really writing anything for a fandom, or publicly sharing it for that matter <33

There always seems to be an innate misunderstanding that occurs when people encounter Geto Suguru and Gojo Satoru, in that Satoru is the one who calls the shots and Suguru merely follows. Though Satoru might have seemed like the arrogant one, and Suguru the mild-mannered, you are intimately aware that the depth of Suguru’s pride almost matches his patience. It’s why he always tends to win whatever petty squabble that starts, why he always obtains the results he hopes for. Suguru always wins, you’d complained once, and his cat-like eyes had crinkled in amusement as he watched you. Not always, had been his response, but you knew it to be a lie. You had watched as he left a trail of broken hearts in his wake, his past lovers drawn in by his honey-sweet words and careful, calloused hands. You were no exception. If Satoru is a work of art, then Suguru is the painter, and you the lonely observer watching from behind the museum glass. You wonder if the same pride prevented him from finding you years ago.

It makes it seem all the more laughable as you watch Suguru kneeling before you through the water that clings to your lashes. The man that had never given in on his knees for someone who gave it all. You are suddenly horribly aware of the air that passes through your lungs in shuddering gasps. Your skin suddenly feels too tight for your body as your heart pounds to the tune of the faint ticking of the clock. “Please,” Suguru whispers at last, as his thumb runs along the back of your hand. Satoru’s arms tighten around you as if committing you to his memory, before letting go. You can say nothing as you stare down at your fingers traitorously intertwined with Suguru’s. 

“What if I don’t want to listen?” 

Satoru inhales sharply, and Suguru pauses, before reluctantly releasing your hand. 

“Do you mean it?” 

“I wasn’t aware that you two cared about how I felt about your decisions,” you retort, watching how Suguru’s expression falls. It doesn’t feel quite as satisfying as you thought it would. You push the thought down. 

“Baby–” Satoru starts, and the facade you’ve built up begins to crumble. 

“Don’t call me that!” you snarl, pushing yourself from the floor. His eyes are pleading, but you steel yourself as you continue. “I’m not your lover. I’m not anyone special to you, considering how quick you were to replace me.” Your voice breaks. “Mocking me like this is low, even for you.” 

Satoru stiffens. “You were special to me. You still are.” Your hands curl into fists as he continues, voice twisting into something more arrogant. “Though, I’m sure Kenji couldn’t live up to me.” 

“Don’t.” Your tone is raw as you frantically try to reel in the anguish you’d been storing for the past five years. “Don’t you dare try to use my letters against me.” 

Satoru has the decency to at least look ashamed. The look on his face is an echo of when he would frown all day if you didn’t give him what he wanted. Satoru is selfish, you know, all heat and arrogance and childishness. You know it’s partially your fault; you were the one that spoiled him off of your love in the first place. 

Suguru calls your name softly, and you turn to face him. He’s still on his knees, gazing up at you with the devotion of a worshiper and the guilt of a sinner. “Tell me what I can do to make it right,” he murmurs. “Tell me what I can do and I’ll do anything you ask of me.” 

“Why didn’t you take me with you?” Your words are fragile, even to your own ears. Please tell me it was because you didn’t have enough money. Please say that it’s because you were in a rush. 

“That night was chaos,” Suguru admits. “Satoru was downright unconsolable, so it was up to me to purchase the tickets, to pack everything we wanted to take into two bags, to book the hotels and make appointments to find apartments.” He hesitates for a moment, and you can feel the piercing ice forming in your veins at the expression. 

“But you had enough money to afford a third.” 

“Yes and no. Realistically, we maybe could have, but, to subject you to the conditions we would have been in?” 

Angrily, you swipe the tears away from your face. “You still should have asked.”

Suguru’s eyes are impossibly tender. “I know you, my beautiful, stubborn girl. I knew that if I gave you that plane ticket, you would have followed us no matter what you truly wanted. I was willing to make the sacrifice. How could I have asked you to do the same?” 

“That wasn’t your decision to make!” 

“Call me selfish, then. Call me controlling, or foolish, or stubborn, but I will never regret ensuring your safety. I will never regret the fact that you were not subjected to the struggles we faced there, the things we had to do to survive. Leaving you was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.” 

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” You feel nauseous, stomach twisting violently into knots. The lies taste so sweet, but the truth is something that you accepted long ago. “Subjecting me to what? Your lifestyle? What struggles do you face when you have so much money that you don’t know what to do with it?” 

Satoru begins to protest, but you hold out your hand, silencing him as you watch Suguru. The betrayal of him cut deeper than you’d care to admit. Satoru might be cocky, but it is Suguru’s hand that holds the trigger, his hand that sealed your fate. “I know you,” you tell him. “I know you, and I know when you lie. Lie to me one more time and I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure that I never see you again.”  

“There is no lie-” 

“You don’t do that to the people you love!” 

“I did it out of love, why can’t you see that?” 

“No, shut up!” Your hands are shaking, teeth gritted as you try to stop the rush of angry tears that threaten to escape you. “You don’t get to act like I’m the person in the wrong here. You two, of all people, don’t get to treat me like this.” The sun is setting, harsh shadows casted onto Suguru’s hunched shoulders as if it is a load that is physically too much for him to bear. The words spilling from your mouth are sharp, desperate to make them bleed in the same way they’d hurt you. “You can’t tell me you love me, or that you missed me, when you left me here for five years. I was alone for five years, and for the first three, I thought something had happened to you two. Do you know how scared I was?”

Satoru reaches for you, but you shove his hands away. “I had to find out from a fucking television broadcast. I had to find out about Satoru’s debut through a television broadcast, and I had to hear your voice coming from the radio instead of through the phone. For three years, you let me fear the worst, and now you’re acting as if I’m crazy? You’re upset to find me bitter when you’ve treated me like a toy you can return to, and throw away when you’re bored? You made me this way!”

 Suguru closes his eyes. “I will never stop regretting how I’ve hurt you, my love. I knew how badly you wanted to get out of this town, to go to college and make your mark on the world. We didn’t know that…” 

We didn’t know that you’d still be here.  

“Maybe if you’d bothered to find me, you would’ve known.” 

“Please don’t blame Suguru for it.” Satoru’s voice is tired, as he runs his hands down his face. “Suguru might have been the one who handled our move, but I was the coward in the end.” 

Impressively, your heart manages to shatter into even smaller pieces. You can only gaze blankly at him as he continues. “I’m sure you’ve suspected it by now, but when we left, Suguru and I were dating. We still are. You know how it is where we’re from, where we are.” He curls in on himself imperceptibly, a star ready to implode. “I knew my parents were bad, but I didn’t know they were that bad. The thought of you looking at me, at Suguru, the same way they looked at us– I couldn’t.” 

You can’t help the almost hysterical laughter that tears through you. “Are you serious? That was your reason?” 

Satoru stares at you as you cover your face with a hand. You’re afraid that if you don’t keep going, you’ll start screaming instead. “Of course I knew,” you choke out, half-laughing and half-sobbing. “Suguru’s neck would be all marked up every time you two hung out without me, and Satoru suddenly stopped flirting with every girl that wanted to sleep with him. Just because everyone else was stupid and in denial, doesn’t mean that I was.” 

“You never said anything.” Suguru gazes up at you, eyes horrified. 

“I figured if you wanted me to know, you would just tell me.” 

“You always looked so uncomfortable.”

“Because I was jealous!” Your words hang in the air, and in this moment, for better or for worse, you know that there is no going back. “I thought I was losing my mind. I was jealous of both of you for having the other, and I hated myself for it. What kind of sick friend was I, to be selfish enough to not only desire one of you, but both of you at the same time?” You shake your head, wishing that it could be enough to remove the feelings from your heart that you had been clinging onto for so long. “When you left, I missed you. I thought it would go away. I hoped it would go away. Who else would be stupid enough to love the people who abandoned them?” 

The words pour from your mouth, acidic with your pain and despair. “Why wasn’t I good enough for you two? Why was it so easy for you to move on, while I was stuck here wasting away? Was it really that hard for me to be loved by you? I was there too!” 

“Darling,” Suguru says, stumbling over the syllables of his words. “You loved us?” 

You have to fight the visceral urge to slap him across his painfully beautiful face. “That’s what you took away from this?” 

“I dreamed of this for so long,” Satoru tells you roughly, delicate fingers tilting up your chin. An interviewer had once said that Satoru’s eyes seemed so cold and distant. You feel like he was trying to burn you alive as he examines you. “I can’t believe this is real.”

“Are both of you out of your mind?” you snap, rearing back. Satoru’s resulting chuckle floods your face with heat as he gives you a lazy, predatory smile. “Only for you, sweetheart.” 

“What Satoru is trying to say,” Suguru interjects, dazed, “is that we didn’t think you felt the same way.” Same way? You feel lightheaded, as if you’re not quite there. Same way? 

He continues on as Satoru leans against the wall, content to watch your reactions. “I, we, just assumed that you…I don’t know. We…” 

“How could I not?” you ask, voice breaking. “How could I not love both of you?” 

Before you can even react, Satoru is surging towards you, arms pressing you closer into his body as he holds you tightly. “You mean it?” he asks, voice uncharacteristically desperate. Needy for you, as he greedily savors the feeling of you in his arms. You can only nod, one hand twisting into the back of his sweater as you bury yourself into the slight hollow where his collarbone meets his shoulder. 

“Please,” Suguru breathes, taking your hand into his, rough fingers curling around the back of your hand as he strokes your palm with his thumb. “I know things aren’t going to be the same. We’re okay with that, we just…” He swallows, thickly, before pushing forward. “We just want to make things right, take things slow, and maybe then you can learn to love us again.” 

Gently, you pull yourself away from Satoru’s grasp. “It’ll be hard,” you admit, tugging Suguru up off the floor and towards you. “But, we’ll make it through.” A slight smile tugs on your lips, the sincerity bleeding through into the softness of your eyes. “Besides, I don’t need to learn how to love you two again.” 

“Especially because I never stopped.” 

Later, you’ll realize the depth of the Gojo’s betrayal to their son. Later, there will be just as many kisses as there are tears, plans to be made, and boxes to be packed. But for now, all you can feel is the overwhelming warmth in your heart as you finally allow yourself to be hugged by two of the people you adored most in the world. 

Welcome home. I love you. 

[tawked]

If I'm being honest, I actually prefer the version of Jason Todd who had a whole arc where the trauma of being Robin during one of Batman's dumb and edgy eras drove him a lil nuts and made him violent, reckless, whatever.

It is a central plot point in A Death in the Family, a comic that while I actively believe no one should read because it is cartoonishly racist, some (me) consider pretty important to understanding the circumstances surrounding Jason Todd's death.

This is consistent with his appearances in earlier stories, forming a character arc wherein he becomes increasingly violent and reckless due to the trauma of his early childhood in poverty and the increasing exposure to violence inherent in being Robin, filtered through the strictly anti-Robin lens of writer Jim Starlin.

Batman #411, he has what is obviously a violent trauma response after finding out Two-Face single parentified his mother.

Batman #422, Batman needs to pull him off a pimp after said pimp threatened his bottom bitch.

Batman #424. I posted this once and someone told me with their whole chest they actually for real believed this dude slipped and Todd didn't kill him which is how I realized that there's a whole generation of Batman fans who do not recognize 1970s-80s action movie tropes. An extremely humbling moment for me lol.

Anyway, notice the sequential nature of the issue numbers.

Now, I sincerely do not want to be a bitch here, but I don't know how else to say this.

The reason Jason Todd is not a violent loose cannon in his earliest appearances, even post-Crisis, is that characters later in their arc are not the same as characters at the beginning of their arc.

These two dudes, who yes are the same dude, have very different relationships with the concept of violent revenge. One of them even cut his own head off in a spooky metaphor cave that taught him about how violent revenge means destroying a part of yourself. The other dude just saw his parents gettin weenie roasted and is mad about that. To reiterate my point, they are the same dude.

But in fandom we have this weird thing where we flat reject this concept of Jason by insisting that no, this characterization was just later writers like Marv Wolfman being haters and retroactively character assassinating him through Tim Drake or something.

We insist on who he was at the beginning of his arc as if he should not, could not, would not on a boat, could not, would not, should not with a goat, develop into anything but who he was at that moment. I have never seen anything else like it in comics or in other fandom. Character development that is just so flat rejected and avoided, in a medium where we usually celebrate development because characters are usually set more or less in stone until the next big reboot event.

And look, if I'm being absolutely honest with you, the smooth clean safe not a wildcard roundhouse kick freak version of Todd that fandom has created is so fucking boring to me.

He is, to me, by far the worst version of the character.

To me, Jason Todd was this Robin specifically:

Batman: The Cult.

That's not Dick Grayson. That's not TIm Drake. That's not Damian Wayne, Stephanie Brown, Carrie Kelley, or whatever other version of Robin.

Jason Todd is the "alright you sorry clowns, let's party" Robin. He was written in line with a bunch of action movie and buddy cop tropes. A Death in the Family was straight up a "hand in your badge McKlinsky, you're a loose cannon" arc. And I just feel like the fandom desire to smooth that out of him, whatever the motivation behind it might be, is ultimately in service for a far more boring, more "in line with Dick Grayson and Tim Drake" version of a character who should never have been in line with Dick Grayson or Tim Drake.