#probably with more information than you wanted

[whateversawesome]

Spy x Family Ch. 109: Is Donovan Desmond an Alien?

No, he's not.

Although Endo could go the "alien" route, given the story, I doubt that he will.

The human mind is fascinating. So, a better explanation for Melinda's declaration is that this is the way she's dealing with her fear. It's not normal to be scared of her husband; she knows that. So, what would be a good reason to be afraid of him? Of course, that it's not really him, that he's an alien!

Her mind is trying to protect her. Anxiety is a way to protect us, and a lot of the times the mind throws strange fears and phobias to distract us from the real problem. In this case, it's her marriage. She's clearly in an abusive relationship and she wants out, but probably she can't divorce that man because of many reasons.

My guess is that Donovan Desmond changed after the war and because of that, their marriage deteriorated to the point of becoming an abusive relationship.

Before, I used to think that the marriage between Donovan and Melinda was a marriage of convenience, but now I think there was affection between them. It's hard to accept that someone you love has become abusive, so Melinda, who is into the occult, probably found an explanation (or more like a justification) for it. It's easier for her to think that someone she loves is an alien than for her to accept her husband is violent towards her and their children.

A lot of her mental health problems would probably be solved by a divorce, so she wouldn't be under her husband's control. However, given her status and the times (divorce was not very socially acceptable back in the 60s), she probably thinks divorce is not an option. On top of everything, her children are in the middle of it.

It's a complicated situation.

About Twilight

A good therapist would never tell their patient what to do. Their job is to help the person see the things they cannot see, and to empower them to make the best decision for them.

Twilight is not a therapist but he is a smart man. I think that he'll be capable of seeing what's behind Melinda's alien theory. The question is: what will he do with that information?

The most convenient thing for Operation Strix would be a reconciliation with Donovan Desmond. That would be the fastest way for Twilight to finally reach Desmond. However, that would also put Melinda at risk. Twilight is a spy, but he's also a human being, and most importantly, someone who has gone through domestic abuse as a child. So, I would like to think that even if he feels tempted to push Melinda into a reconciliation, he won't.

But, we'll see...

[captain-huggy-bear]

"Can- Can you come over please?" (I believe prompt list 1 number 80?) with whoever you're inspired for please 😊 thank you! - em

Em, it was giving soft boy Luke who's maybe feeling shitty after a bad game, so I hope you like it. First time writing Luke so I'm super sorry if it doesn't feel right for him (as we think of him because obvs we don't know him but still) Also I like how I was like let's write something short and then...just kept writing...😂 Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :) Writing Masterlist

You'd been friends with Luke Hughes for almost as long as he'd been in New Jersey, both of you new to the city at the time had stumbled into each other quite literally one wintery afternoon. Your coffee going all over his hoodie, his doughnut squishing chocolate icing over your sweater. You'd expected him to yell, instead you learnt that day how utterly sweet and kind Luke Hughes was. He replaced your coffee and refused to let you buy him a new doughnut, but did let you invite him over so you could put some stain remover on his hoodie.

You might be thinking, 'are you crazy? Inviting a strange man to your apartment?', but you can only explain your risk through two pieces of information: 1) You knew roughly who he was. You weren't a fan of his by any means but you followed Hockey and had heard about the newest addition to the Devils, so you at least knew he wasn't a criminal, 2) Luke Hughes had been wearing snoopy socks and something about that had screamed 'non-threatening'.

Looking back it was probably slightly insane on your part, but it bagged you a close friend who you may or may not have had a massive crush on, so you couldn't really say you regretted risking it.

It wasn't unusual for Luke to phone you after a game, more often than not you got a quick phone call or a few texts sent through while he was out celebrating or commisserating with the team, often being invited out even when he knew you weren't much for late nights out on the town.

It was unusual though for that phone call to come in at 1 in the morning while you were sleeping.

You're groggy and half awake, hand patting the bedside table until you grip your phone, Luke's ringtone blarring through the speakers only because he was one of your few exceptions. One of a handful of people who could call you after 11pm without being sent straight to voicemail, the others being your family.

"Lukey? It's..." You stop to squint at your alarm clock, "1:41 in the morning, what's wrong?" You knew the game had ended late, but Luke should have been in bed by now or he should have been out partying with Jack and the boys, definitely not phoning you. You half expected him to be drunk on the other end of the line, maybe having phoned you while out with the team.

Instead his breath is shaky on the other end of the line, voice raspy like he's been crying and that's what has you sitting upright and swinging your legs out of bed before he even finishes his question.

"Can- Can you come over please?" His voice is scratchy and strained, a rasp that sounds defeated. You don't even considering getting changed from your pajamas, you just throw a jacket on from your closet.

"Yeah, yeah, of course, what's wrong?"

"Just...just come over please, angel" You're quick timing it as you shove your feet in a pair of shoes and grab your keys off the side, locking your apartment door behind you. It didn't matter to you that it was nearly 2am or that you hadn't brushed your hair or that you were half-asleep, all that mattered was Luke and the way he sounded like the world might be just a little too much for him right now.

"Okay, okay, want me to stay on the line?"

"No, just...drive safe?" You pause in the hallway, heart hurting at his concern, that even now when he's begging for your help he cares that you're safe.

"Yeah, course, Lu, i'm leaving right now, sweetheart." He lets out a shuddering breath on the line, right before he hangs up and you're certain you might cry because God, Luke shouldn't sound like that, so utterly defeated, so fragile.

You do your best to honour his request on the drive to his and Jack's apartment, even as you want to break a hundred traffic laws just to get there sooner, but you don't. It doesn't take long, but ten minutes feels like one hundred when all you want is to be see Luke and make sure he's okay.

He's at the door from the first knock and you don't say anything, just take him in. His tall form hunched at the shoulders like he's trying to hide within his hoodie, hood pulled over his head and eyes red rimmed, blotchy. There are dark, deep circles beneath his eyes and his lip is bruised and split, a few neatly placed stitches holding it together.

You don't say anything, just step forward and wrap him in your arms as best you can, tiptoeing to press your chin to his shoulder, arms tight around him as if you can protect him from whatever is going on in his head.

He grasps as you like you're a lifeline, fingers digging into your jacket, face pressed so tight to the crook of your neck that you're certain he'll fuse there.

He doesn't protest when you pull him into his apartment, door slamming shut. Doesn't protest when you pull him to his room, asking where Jack is, only to get a short clipped reply of 'club'. Doesn't protest when you sit him on his bed and join him, shoes being kicked off. It's not until you try to pull away from him that he really seems to come to life, hands grasping you firmer, pulling you back, "Don't go, please don't go..."

"'m not going anywhere, Lu, it's okay..." You pull back just enough that you can pull his hood back, fingers carding through his brown curls gently like he might break. "What happened?"

"Just needed you..." His face presses back into your shoulder as your fingers work through his hair like it's a perfectly normal thing to say to your best friend, like he didn't call because he had a shit game, because he doesn't want to talk about it."

"Lu...talk to me, baby"

There's a stark silence, broken only by a shaky breathe that comes from Luke as if the idea of talking is enough to make him cry for the second time that night. "I'm...i'm not good enough for the team, did a shit job tonight and we lost...it's my fault. Played like shit."

"What did Jack say?" You're gentle with it, soft voice, soft fingers on the nape of his neck. It's silly, he knows he's being dramatic, he also knows that it's not a friend thing to do. Knows he wouldn't call any of his other friends at near 2am because he needs them, knows he wouldn't beg for their fingers in his hair to sooth him or feel better just by the smell of their laundry detergent and shampoo. Luke knows he called you because he loves you, pretty sure he loved you the moment you excitedly showed him you'd gotten the coffee stain out of his UMIC hoodie.

"I was being too hard on myself, that it wasn't the 'Luke Hughes show'." He immitates Jack's voice, a pouty sort of tone riding his voice because he knows his brother is right even if he refused to sit moping with him and went out drinking instead.

"He's right. Hockey is a team sport, Luke, you aren't even on the ice the entire time! You do not get to decide that you're the reason a game is won or lost, you don't get to shoulder that."

"But.." Your palms cup his face, pulling him up to look at you. Your face is dead serious brows furrowed, lips pursed.

"No, you're a good hockey player. They picked you to play for them because of what you bring to the table and maybe you didn't play your best tonight , but you deserve to be on the team. You can't always be at 100." Your thumbs brush his cheeks under his eyes, like you might be able to wipe away the dark bags there. He looks worn, exhausted, tears just welling in those green eyes of his.

You're not entirely sure he believes you, "If I said I wasn't good enough because I had a bad day at work, what would you say to me?"

"To shut up and stop being mean to yourself..." Luke frowns at you like you're insane for even suggesting something like that, and it's what makes you smile for the first time that night, as if to say I told you so.

"Exactly, so stop being mean to yourself, Lu. You're amazing, i'm always in awe of how you skate..." You brush a curl from his eyes and watch them flutter closed slightly, throat tightening a little because you know this isn't the way you're supposed to feel about your best friend.

"Really?"

"Really..." You watch him carefully, the way he just leans more into your hands like he trusts you entirely to hold him up, the deep swelling of his lip, the beauty marks across his cheeks. "What do you need from me, right now?"

He takes a moment, like the words are stuck on the tip of his tongue whether unsure of how to ask or worried to make things weird. Both of you always toeing the line between friends and something decidedly more romantic.

"Can...can you just hold me? Just stay the night?" He blinks up at you with such big sweet eyes that you're not sure anyone would be able to refuse him, so you don't.

"I can do that."

You treat him delicately, like he's not a nearly 200 pound hockey player that regularly gets body slammed against boards and ice, who's covered in bruises and currently sporting a split lip. You pull him to lie down with you, curling around him like a protective blanket, pulling his face back into the crook of your neck, legs twisting with his. It's definitely not what friends do, but it's what he needs, so he grips you back tight, presses his face firmly into your neck and pulls your leg over his hip to be as close as possible.

You don't move more than the brush of fingers through his hair or down his arm, across his back. Even when you can hear soft snores, the sign of him having fallen asleep, you don't move because as much as Luke said he need this, you kind of need this too.

[axolotl4days]

Batman Dead Daughter AU part 2

I'm so sorry this took so long, I ment to post this like the day after the first one but I kept getting distracted and didn't have time to write it TwT

Anyways-

We are starting off with Damian after patrol and approaching Bruce

I also realized how my writing is a lot closer to script in the last one, especially with the dialog, and it's something I'll work on

Without further a due: Angst :D

Damian POV:

'This is really unordinary, first a new student in the middle of the year, who looks... similar to Father, but now she's hiding under a bridge? What is going on with that girl. Somethings not right, it's clear there's something she's not telling me, I should be angry, she could be some sort of threat. So why am i not? This isn't anger its.. something else. What even is this feeling? I feel like I know her. One things for certain, she needs help. Maybe I should speak to Father about this. He does have a habit of adopting children.' Damian thinks to himself as he removes his vigilante gear, he decides to approach Bruce and bring up his concerns

"Father." Damian says, commanding his attention away from the computer

"Damian. Is something wrong?" Bruce asks

"I'm not sure, it's about my new friend" Damian says

"Ah yes.... y/n correct?" Bruce asks but his voice waivers as he says her name

"Correct, father. I believe y/n may be in trouble of some kind. As you know she joined the school at an odd time, which is weird enough as it is. However, during patrol, I found her under a bridge. She claimed that she couldn't go home but wouldn't say why. And to make matters even more confusing, she didn't seem to know who I was." Damian explains

"What do you mean? Like she didn't know what a vigilante was? It's possible if she's new to Gotham, unlikely but possible." Bruce says

"No, she wasn't suprised, or confused, she acted as if meeting a vigilante were normal, but she didn't know my name, she seemed to know about vigilantes, but didn't know which one I was." He explained while gesturing to the cases of costumes throughout the years. "She also didn't have anything with her. When I found her, she only had her backpack with school supplies and a few clothes. No blankets or food items, nor any personal belongings. It seems like she hasn't been here for very long, but she's been attending school for a few weeks now." Damian says

Bruce pauses for a moment "That's... odd. Even if someone had recently become homeless, they would have more than just school supplies, especially if they've been living outside." Bruce says mostly to himself before turning back to his son "What are you thinking Damian?" Bruce asks

Damian remains silent for a while before responding, "With your permission, Father, I would like to invite her over after school tomorrow. Perhaps we could learn more then. I heard it's supposed to rain tomorrow as well, and I'd feel bad knowing my friend was out there getting sick." Damian states and waits for a response

"I see. Very well then, you may invite her over, I'll inform Alfred so he will make extra for dinner." Bruce says, calling Alfred in. "In the meantime, you need to turn in for the night, I'll speak with Alfred about tomorrow"

"Very well, goodnight father." Damian says, walking past Alfred

Bruce POV:

"Master Bruce? Are you alright?" Alfred asks having heard the conversation

Bruce doesn't speak for a moment, but eventually, he turns to face the loyal butler

"Alfred I... I don't want to get my hopes up. I know that it's probably just a coincidence, but... when you pick the two of them up tomorrow, I want you to call me immediately and let me know if it... if it's possible.. if it could be -"

"I will Master Bruce. I promise that the moment I am able to confirm, I will let you know." Alfred says

"Thank you Alfred." Bruce says, as he unlocks one of the drawers in his desk, and he pulls own a dusty photo and cleans it, the photo being a photo of him, and his long lost daughter smiling eating icecream

"I know it's... highly unlikely, but would you like me to prepare her favorite? Even if it's not her, I know that you enjoy the meal as well, and it's been awhile, it'd be nice to relive the good memories." Alfred suggests

"That... that would be nice Alfred, thank you." Bruce says before looking at the photo again and putting it away

The next day:

Damian was right, it is raining and by the looks of it, it'll be raining all day, the day begins the same as normal with Damian getting prepared for school, and packing a larger umbrella with him before heading down to breakfast where he finds two of his older brothers

Damian POV:

"Grayson, Drake" Damian greets them

"Hey kid, you got everything you need? It's raining cats and dogs out there" Dick says causing Damian to roll his eyes

"I'm well aware Grayson, I already knew this would happen so I prepared accordingly, even grabbing a larger umbrella to fit us" Damian replies

"Us? Who's us? We aren't going out today" Tim asks

"Us, as in me and my friend, I'm bringing her here after school today. I've already informed Father and Alfred. You two better not freak her out." Damian warns

"Woah, you're bringing a friend home? That's new" Dick says

"You have friends? Like. Real friends? From school?" Tim laughs

"Yes I have friends. What's with the laughter. And whats real friends supposed to mean" Damian snaps

"Well, considering your always calling people peasants it's surprising, not to mention it's someone who's not like us." Tim replies as if it's common knowledge

"What is that supposed to mean. Y/n doesn't have to be like us. We're friends, and that's that. Honestly, we're practically siblings. That's what the people at school say." Damian says. "Oh, and for your information, she may be in a tough situation right now. I don't yet know the details, but something is up, so when she gets here, you guys better not say anything suspicious, got it?" Damian basically orders before he walks away to head to school.

"Y/n? Huh..." Dick mutters to himself

"What is it? You know this person?" Tim asks

"No no it's just... I swear I've heard that name before." Dick says almost serious

At school, y/n pov:

'Okay, y/n, there's no need to panic just yet. No one's said anything, so he didn't tell anyone. What do I say if he brings it up? It happened while in the suit, so he probably won't approach it as himself, but what if he does? Or if he asks me about home? What do I do if he asks me about my parents? I need to think of a plan. Dad always has plans, but what do I even do? I can't just go up to the manor and explain who I am. It's been..' y/n pauses to do math but fails 'it's been an unknown amount of years, it's possible more things have changed than what I can tell. It's possible they won't even remember me, or they could think I was some sort of clone like in a Sci fi movie. I don't know anything for certain yet, so I have to play it safe... even if it hurts'

Y/n braces herself, thoughts of things that could go wrong still swirling about in her mind, but she can't think about that now, she has classes to attend.

Damian arrives to class and greets her like normal, she holds back her sigh of relief knowing that it's probably because it was 'Robin' that she talked to last night, she's seen her dad shift between personas before and if he learned from him then he won't mention a thing about what happened.

The two start talking about homework, which y/n suddenly realizes she didn't do, but before she can worry about it, the teacher speaks up

"Good morning class, today's going to be a bit different as we're starting a new project and for this you'll need to work in pairs, so before anything, everyone needs to go around and get into pairs and then when that's done I'll start handing out information on the project and explain what it is."

"Y/n? Would you like to work on this project together?" Damian asks

"Sure, we work together on some stuff already so this should be a peice of cake" y/n replies

"Perfect, we can work on it at my place after school as well, speaking of which, would you like to come over today? It's Friday, and I was thinking we could have a uh... sleepover. There's lots of stuff we could do, and it'll be easier to find time for the project that way and you could stay for the whole weekend" Damian asks, hoping to convince his friend without sounding weird. But he can't stand the idea of her being outside all weekend, especially with Gothams weather.

"Oh! Sure I would love to come over for a sleep over it sounds like a lotta fun!" Y/n replies, trying to hold back her excitement 'oh my god this works out perfectly. Now I can see what's changed, maybe I can talk to dad, I hope he's okay, this'll let me find out if he remembers me or not. I'll finally have Alfred's cooking again!' Y/n thinks to herself

"Good good, I'll have our bulter Pennyworth pick us up straight after school. We have a library in the manor so we don't need to use the schools library, oh and just a warning, my brothers are probably going to be at the manor as well, just ignore them, they're fools." Damian says

'There's more of them?!' Y/n thinks to herself, trying to hide her shock, but Damian notices anyways but he doesn't say anything about it.

"Alright class, now that everyone is partnered up I'll explain the project, this one will take a few weeks so listen up" the teacher says, gathering everyone's attention and explains the project

They spend the rest of class working on the project, writing notes, and during breaks they talk about what they're going to do at the manor, Damian discovers y/n knows even less movies than he does so they decide they could have a movie marathon when they first get there.

Before they know it, school is over and it's time to head out. Just as Damian said, Alfred comes to pick them up right after school, and parks somewhere where the rain isn't as intense.

"Hello Pennyworth, this is Y/n." Damian introduces the two noticing the pale look on Alfred's face just like he had when he first mentioned Y/n

"Hello, thank you for picking us up Alfred!" Y/n says, happy to see Alfred again after all this time, though a bit shocked to see how white his hair has gotten, but otherwise he looks the same. She too sees the pale in his face, but is still too nervous to say anything.

"Of course miss Y/n" He says, while getting into the car "If you'll excuse me, I have a phone call to make while we head to the manor, so I'll put the sound dividers up, in the mean time the two of you can pick what music you wish to listen to during the drive" Alfred says

"Alright, here y/n, we can listen to almost any song with this" Damian says

As the two begin to look through the music, Alfred sinks into the sea as he processes what he's seen. Could it really be Y/n?

Alfred pov:

He takes a moment to compose himself, he has a cold sweat, but he calms himself and calls Bruce

The phone feels like it rings forever before Bruce answers

"Hello Alfred, any news?" Bruce asks, for he was waiting for this call ever since Alfred left

"It's her Master Bruce. It has to be. She looks exactly the same as she did before. She sounds the same, too, I froze for a moment, but neither of them addressed it." Alfred says

"Are you sure? Did she say anything?" Bruce asks

"She didn't say much. However, when Damian introduced us, he referred to me as Pennyworth as he always does, yet Y/n referred to me as Alfred, regardless. Her eyes were unmistakable, even if it were someone who looked like her, those eyes, I would never forget them." Alfred says

"I see. Come get me once you arrive at the manor, we need to discuss how were going to go about this, see what she knows and confirm everything for sure." Bruce replies

"Of course Master Bruce, we'll be their shortly" Alfred informs him

The drive passes quickly and they arrive at the manor, quickly getting in as the rain pours harder and harder. Alfred takes their umbrellas and coats

"Alright, I have some business to attend to, but I shall make dinner shortly. Feel free to do whatever you wish in the meantime, but stick together, wouldn't want anyone to get lost." Alfred says side eyeing Y/n

"No need to worry, Pennyworth. I've memorized the layout of the manor. We will be heading to the theater first, you may find us there when dinner is ready." Damian states

"Wow, you weren't kidding, you actually brought a friend," two voices call out, causing Damian to scowl

"Grayson, Drake." Damian turns to the approaching duo."Y/n, these are my older brothers and nuecences. Who have apparently decided to bother us." Damian says

"Awe, don't be like that, Dames. we just wanna meet our baby brothers new... friend, " Dick says, meeting Y/n's gaze "Anyways- the names Dick Grayson, pleasure to meet you" he introduces himself before elbowing the boy next to him to stop his stareing

"Ow- oh uh, I'm Tim Drake. Sorry about Dick, it's not every day we meet a friend of the demons. Are you guys going to be working on something?" Tim asks

"Oh well, technically, we have a school project, but we have plenty of time to work on it, so we were going to have a um, 'movie marathon'" Y/n replies, unsure of how to react

"Yes, we plan to binge some movies that neither of us have seen before, I also wrote a list of other activities we could do, including but not limited to, various board games" Damian replies

"Wow, sounds like fun, maybe we'll pop in for a movie or two later on" Dick teases

"Grayson-" Damian hisses before being interupted

"Ahem, boys play nice, Master Dick and Master Tim, dinner will be ready in a few hours, I have some matters to attend to with Master Bruce, so please behave yourselves." Alfred states

"Alright, alright, we'll let the two of you go have fun, but don't think we won't drop by for some family board games." Dick says

Groaning, Damian leads Y/n towards the theater while Alfred heads to Bruce's office, leaving Dick and Tim alone

"...... So I'm not the only one who noticed she looks exactly like Bruce, right?" Dick asks

"No, no, you were not. How is this even possible she looks like she's Damian's age, so it's not like Bruce had another affair? But she looks so much like him it's kind of creepy, it could be another clone situation." Tim replies

"Makes Damians little comment about them being siblings earlier seem like it may not have been a joke" Dick says

"He didn't say anything about it, though. You'd think he'd have made all sorts of blood siblings comments by now." Tim says

"Yeah..." Dick says absentmindedly

"You good Dick?? You look like your thinking which is never a good thing" Tim jokes

"Ha ha, very funny. I'm fine. I was just. I feel like I've heard the name Y/n before but can't remember where, " Dick explains, and the two of them stand there for a moment before deciding to actually join movie night

With Alfred:

"Master Bruce?" Alfred approaches the office and lets himself in, noticing the papers all over the place, recognizing all of them

"Is it really possible? Even if it is her, how hasn't she grown up? She'd have been older than Dick by now. And if it is her, why didn't she come back? Why did it take until Damian invited her over for her to come here? Are we sure she even remembers us? What if it's some sick joke? What if some villain made a clone of her and sent her here to toy with me? What if -"

Before he could spiral any further, Alfred cuts him off

"Master Bruce. Calm down. I'm aware of how... odd this situation is, and there is much to discuss. However, I feel it would be best for you to speak to her yourself. I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation for all of this. She is her father's daughter, I'm sure she'll explain everything." Alfred says

"And what if she can't? What if it isn't really her and just a huge coincidence? What then? We would be back at Square one not knowing what happened to her or where to find her or-"

"You're doing it again Master Bruce. Please, go talk to her" Alfred says

"Alfred I- I don't know if I can. If I can face her. It's been so long I.." Bruce, finally looking away from his papers to look up at his butler

"It'll be okay. I'll be there with you as well. You... you don't have to see her just yet. You could wait for then to finish with a few of their movies and settle in before approaching. It'll give you some time to brace yourself as well." Alfred suggests

"That.. sounds like a plan Alfred, thank you." Bruce says

"Of course Master Bruce. I'll go ahead and start dinner now, it shouldnt take too long, so I'll fetch you when it's done, and we can go talk to her. And then have dinner afterward," Alfred replies

"Alright Alfred." Bruce says

After some time passes, the kids have watched around two and a half movies, they're in the middle of third when they hear footsteps approaching

Y/n Pov:

Y/n slightly tenses up. She knows those footsteps, even through the sound of the movie, she can hear them. Her father always taught her to notice the little things like that. The boys notice but don't think much of it until

"Ah, there you all are, Alfred told me you guys would be in here," Bruce's voice calls out as he walks over the greet the others, he looks more tense than usual, but he has been for the past few days it's probably case related the boys think

"Hello father, this is my friend y/n" Damian turns to look at Bruce who after making his way over to everyone finally lays his eyes on y/n, and he freezes

Dick and Tim don't say anything, both looking back and forth between Bruce and Y/n wide eyes, there is a long awkward silence before Damian decides to speak up

"Alright, what is with everyone today! I swear you have all been acting strange. It's not even that rare for me to have friends. If I knew you'd all act like this, I would've thought twice. Even you father, I can't believe it -" Damian starts to scold, but Y/n cuts him off

"It's okay, Damian, cut him some slack, it's not every day a dad sees his dead daughter again" Y/n says while putting a hand on Damians shoulder with wet eyes

"It really is you, Y/n..." Bruce says, tears forming in his eyes

"Hey, Dad... I'm back, I'm sorry I didn't say anything sooner, and I know you probably have a lot of questions, but -" Before y/n can continue, Bruce pulls her into a hug, and the two let out their tears

The others can only stand there and watch as the two cry and apologize to another

"So, I'm all for new family members but what the hell is happening right now can anyone explain" Dick asks

"I agree with Grayson for once, what is going on?" Damian adds

"It's... a long story that we can discuss later. First things first." Bruce stands up but doesn't let go of Y/n almost like he's worried if he let's her go she'll disappear again."Right now, all that matters is that it's time for dinner. Alfred made your favorite Y/n, we weren't sure if it was really you but we wanted to hope it was." Bruce says and they all head to the dining room, still all in shock

They sit at the dinner table and-

"Wow Bruce, another kid? You seriously have a problem." A voice calls out causing the others to look at him and try to signal that it's not the time to say stuff like that

"Hello Jason, it's good to see you too. And for your information, this is Y/n, and technically, she was my first kid, " Bruce says. "Are you here for dinner?"

"Yeah, I wanted some of Alfred's cooking- hold on. What do you mean she's your first kid she's like the same age as the demon spawn??" Jason acts

"Oh that's because I was dead for- ..... uh dad how long was I dead for? I didn't do the math" Y/n says

"It's been... 20 years now" Bruce says hesitantly and watches the realization set in in everyone's eyes

"Oh... wow... that's a lot longer than I thought... but yeah, I've been dead for a while. I only came back to life earlier this month... Also, dad, I know we'll do questions later, but I don't actually know how I came back to life, I was completely alone when I woke up, and I wasn't where I died." Y/n tells him

"I see. That's alright, my dear, we can worry about that later, Damian told me about where you were staying after he found you during patrol, so I'm sure you're hungry" Bruce says

"Father! "Bruce!" The boys yell

"What?" He turns around confused

"Pft wow bruce" Jason laughs only causing Bruce to look even more confused

"Dad I think they're talking about the fact you mentioned patrol" Y/n tells her father while giggling

"Oh, guys, y/n already knows. Well, she knew about me and knowing my daughter she put two and two together when she saw Damian as Robin" Bruce explains

"Yeah, the moment I heard about there being more vigilantes and that apparently dad had more kids, I figured he started a family business, speaking of which dad how many kids did you have after me??? Did you lean into the 'Brucie' persona that much?" Y/n asks, nudging her father

"Okay, in my defense, most of them are adopted. You and Damian are my only biological children, and technically.... these aren't the only ones there's a few more, but they're out right now. Technically Dick and Jason don't live here anymore. They come here for Alfred's cooking most of the time, " Bruce says and almost as if on que y/n's stomach growls, "Speaking of which, it sounds like it's time to eat."

They finally settle at the dinner table, and Alfred brings out the food, y/n practically drools at the smell alone

They eat, and none of them say anything, but they all notice y/n crying while eating the food, and they wonder what she's been through in the month since she woke up before coming here. Bruce and Alfred especially make mental notes to do a health check-up and get her back onto a proper and healthy diet once she's settled back in. Alfred has many mixed feelings seeing y/n eat. She eats much faster than she used to. Jason notices this also and knows what it's like trying to find food on your own as a kid. He not so subtly gives her some of his food.

After dinner and desert (Alfred was so relieved to hear it really was her, he made cookies to celebrate)

Y/n starts to look really tired

"Are you alright sweetheart?" Bruce asks

"I'm okay, dad, just stuffed. It's been a while since I've eaten that much. I'm probably going to have a food coma - that was a joke. I'm not actually going to fall into a coma. " She quickly adds, knowing how much her dad overthinking things

"Well, food coma or not, it's been a long day, I think it's time for you to head to bed." Bruce says, standing up

"Aw, dad already? We haven't even gotten to talk, and I know you have questions, and I do too, and" Y/n starts

"Sweetheart." Bruce says firmly but warm as he crouches down to meet his daughters eyes. "You're right. There are many questions, but those questions can wait. You need your rest. As much as I want to know everything, I want to make sure you're okay first. We can talk in the morning, and the day after, and so on. Your home now." Bruce says

"Yeah... I'm home now." Y/n says, as she starts to cry again and Bruce gently scoops her up in his arms

"It's okay, sweetheart." He says cooing

"I missed you so much, dad." y/n cries

"I missed you too." Bruce says, "Let's get you to bed, I'm sure you've missed your room too. " He starts to walk through the halls while the others are still sitting at the table stunned

"You still have my room?" Y/n asks as Bruce carries her

"What kind of question is that? Of course I still have your room." Bruce replies

"Well... it's been so long, and you probably knew I was dead so I figured-"

"I never accepted you were dead." Bruce cuts her off. "I always hoped I would find you one day. Even if you were a grown adult, I kept your room the same." Bruce says

"Dad..." Y/n says, knowing that this whole time, her father has been looking for a daughter that he would never find "I... I *was* dead... I'm sorry-"

"Don't you dare apologize. Your only a kid it isn't your fault. Whatever happened wasn't your fault. We can talk about it more in the morning. But for now.." Bruce takes out his keys and unlocks the door to Y/n's room and tucks her in. She yawns and Bruce starts to get up but Y/n grabs him

"Dad... could you stay with me until I fall asleep? I know you have work to do and that those guys are probably waiting but-" y/n pauses

"Of course I will. Just rest now my dear." Bruce says and it's not long before y/n is out like a light

Bruce after a few more minutes finally gets up, he plugs in a nightlight and makes his way back to the dining room where he is then greeted by the boys and he sighs

"Boys."

"Bruce" "Father

"Alright. I suppose it's time to explain." Bruce starts as he pulls out a chair "Where do I even begin?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aaaaaaaand another cliffhanger! Sorry not sorry but I've been working on and off on this post for weeks I think. Theres still a good bit of story left (aka the explanations) I don't currently have much planned afterwards but I feel like when I write the next part depending on how I write it this may become a mini series (I say mini because again, I don't have much planned this started out as a random concept in my head) if i do write more after the explanations I'd definitely lean even more into the yandere aspects (I attempted to start planting some seeds of it with the batfam getting more concerned and protective, and the next part will definitely tip them over the edge :) hehe )

I'm sorry if the characters are well, out of character but, *points to the fact I'm new to this fandom and new to writing fanfiction in general*

Also I'm sorry there's no cass, duke, barb, or steph

I don't know much about them yet, I know who they are but not really how they act or solid personality traits so I don't know how to write them yet, but I'll probably allude to them or say that the others explain the situation to them or smth

Thanks for being patient with me for this part lol

[black-crested-jaybird]

Cold is serious. If you live in an area that usually gets hot, you know that heat can be dangerous. Cold can, too.

In addition to the information above, I will add:

If your heat is out, stay in smaller rooms if you can to minimize losing heat from your body, and stay with other people/mammals if possible to maximize your heat sources. Hang blankets over windows and doorways to stop drafts and heat loss through glass. Don't burn things for warmth indoors, especially when you're trying to stop air movement.

If you're leaving the house when it's cold, wear wool, leather, down, fur, or sheepskin if you have it, or polarfleece/polypropylene. Wool clothing is best - it stays warm even when it's wet. Cotton is terrible for cold because it doesn't insulate when it's wet. Polarfleece/polypro is second best for clothing but most types of plastic-based clothing either won't keep you warm at all or will make you sweat because they don't breathe. But any clothing is better than none. Layer up and add/remove layers as needed to stay comfortable (and dry).

You can get hypothermia - when your body temperature drops dangerously low - even when the temperature is above freezing, if you have inadequate clothing and especially if you're cold and wet. If you've been cold for a long time, for example because your heat is out, move around or put on more layers. (If you put on more layers and then move around to warm up you'll probably sweat. You don't want to sweat, because being wet will chill you.) If you are wet, get dry as soon as you can.

Dangerously hypothermic people will take their clothes off and fall asleep (and then, if they are outside and alone, freeze to death). This is because the body is basically giving up on the core organs and diverting heat to the extremities, which makes people feel warm even as their core temperature drops. The classic treatment for hypothermia is to strip down and cuddle the hypothermic person under blankets or (ideally) in a sleeping bag. You want dry, gradual warmth here and skin contact is ideal. A hot bath or shower is dangerous.

Stay safe and stay warm!

So Your Temperate Home is Suddenly an Arctic Hellscape

As -10F hits area’s of the US who’ve never seen such temperatures in living memory, I wanted to give some tips from a Minnesotan who’s lived with these temps as a part of my life for 37 years.

1) Don’t Get Cocky. People used to these temps may laugh at our southern neighbors freaking out about the cold because yes, some parts of the US get such temps regularly every year. These people are being ignorant assholes. Our houses are mandated to have insulation that few of your homes will have. We pretty much all have huge puffy coats, and have well established winter weather gear drives for homeless and poor folks every year. We have expensive, well equipped infrastructure for cope with these temps and with large amounts of snow. You don’t. When it comes down to it, Minnesotans know to respect the cold temps- it’s just that a lot of the ways that do it are so commonplace as to be invisible to those who already have these habits.

2) Don’t go out wet. Dry your hair or stay inside. You will loose a lot of heat if you’re wet. Same for sweat, and wet diapers. And clothes with snow on them are now WET CLOTHES. Change into dry clothes as soon as possible.

3) If you have a shitty car battery or a car that sometimes struggles to start, then try not to use it. You’re unlikely to get the kind of temps where it’s impossible to start an engine (I’ve only experienced those temps a few times. Once my eyelashes froze shut and I almost froze to death in my own back yard. Don’t be like young me. Respect the cold.) If your car doesn’t start, you could be stranded somewhere, and realistically your area’s emergency services may be pretty overrun. 

4) Very cold air doesn’t hold moisture well. Plan for extra hydration for people, pets, and plants. Even if your staying in- most home heaters pull cold air from outside, then dry it out even MORE in the process of heating it. Dehydration is a thing. Even if your home’s heater has a humidifier attached to it (if you’re not sure, then it probably doesn’t.) it’s a good idea to drink extra water. Right now I have a few pots of water just left out by heaters to evaporate as much as possible. My mom used to just heat huge camping pots on the stove all day in cold temps. Remember, dry nasal passages really muck up your bodies ability to fight airborne illness. This is not a great time for that.

5) Help out homeless folks in your area in any way you can. These temps can and do kill. And since we have more evictions than any society can conscionably defend this year, we have high numbers of homeless people. Which means area supports for unhoused folks are often underfunded and over-taxed. 

6) Let your faucets drip. I know nobody likes to waste water but if your pipes freeze they will literally explode. Your home will flood. My mother’s kitchen got completely destroyed and it traumatized my childhood dog. Justa  bit of moving warm water will safeguard you from that.

7) Do. Not. Burn. Propane. Indoors. 

8) Plan for potential power outages. Ice on the lines can cause this and again, your infrastructure isn’t prepped for this. Unplug anything in your home you’re not using to do your part to help prevent rolling blackouts.

9) Driving on ice is a SKILL. Your roads may be filled with people who do not have that skill. Please please, stay off the roads if you can- even if you have this skill these roads will not be prepped and will, again, be full of people who don’t know how to do this because it just hasn’t come up that much in their life.

Stay safe and stay kind, folks! 

[syoddeye]

Here me out pls

Nik in the Strict Machinery AU as a possible bf for reader for a NikPricexReader

Thank you for your time

hear you out? for nik? always. this was fun. nikolai is still nikolai in this au. that is, mysteriously wealthy and well-connected. he's probably fascinated by john. it's cutting edge technology, after all. available only to the testers that live in the building.

that said. i do not think their first meeting goes well.

strict machine anthology. cw: alcohol mention, implied non-consensual voyeurism, the boys are fighting

the hesitation is intentional, nikolai thinks. prototype or not, there is no reason for this thing to experience a delay. it's too advanced. his own cheap, voice-active coffee maker brews pots when he's face down in bed, slurring commands through a hangover.

he leans against the counter. "john. i said, black coffee, no sugar."

this time, it responds. "user has not authorized food or drink for guests."

nikolai smiles, a tired amusement curving his mouth. "she's asleep," he counters, pushing to see where the line is. "should i wake her?"

after a beat, the machine hums to life, reluctantly, he assumes. as the mug fills, he turns his attention to the wall panel. he ignores the in case of emergency and authorized users only stickers.

the nearly invisible door gives a soft whoosh as the compartment opens, revealing a sleek, intricate array of circuits and controls—a shrine to cutting-edge design. far beyond what even the wealthiest of his clients might handle, nikolai marvels at it, his fingers hovering just shy of contact. then, he touches its small screen, intending to peek at—

it zaps him. not painful, but pointed. a gentle warning, considering. nikolai shakes out his fingers and chuckles. "i apologize. i should always ask before touching."

there is no answer, until he retrieves his coffee. it is black, but one sip, and he knows there are at least two sugars in it. what a curious, temperamental thing.

"before she wakes, i should inform you that i was unable to complete your background check last night." john suddenly pipes up, voice clipped and stern.

"you ran a check? on me?" not the first time, not the last. good to know his team is worth their salaries, though. keeping him disconnected, his data scrubbed.

"i run checks with everyone my user spends more than five minutes with."

"surely i lasted longer than that," nikolai smirks into his mug, feeling the granules dissolve and swim between his teeth. "you were watching us, weren't you?"

silence.

"to make sure i was acting as a gentleman, as i assured you last night?"

"you were drunk."

"we both were." nikolai replies, moving to the couch. he sinks into its corner, one leg draped over the edge, lounging comfortably. he looks out across the sterile space. it is cozy compared to his own, but it has its charm. he is undecided about the assistant, though.

the thing is too over-zealous for his liking. he would spit if he heard his coffee maker back talk. he would take a bat to it.

"you must know her better than anyone."

this time, the response is immediate. defensive, even. "i am optimized to ensure her well-being."

nikolai chuckles. "'optimized'. is that what you call it?" he smooths back his mussed hair. "you don't like me. you're suspicious. that's good. it's very…human."

"it is not. i am not." a shift in tone. closer, too. like he's right on top of him. has he flustered the thing? "my programming is consistent and solid, unlike–"

"humans?" he catches a flicker of light, and a projected figure materializes beside him, legs disappearing into the couch. broad shoulders, bullish posture, arms crossed. its face is tight and stern, probably modeled after a thousand logged expressions of intimidation. the fidelity is nothing like he's seen, either. realistic enough that nikolai wanted to touch it the mole on its nose. his hand twitches before he recalls the panel's warning.

hm. interesting. more rugged than i imagined.

"that's good, john. because i'm consistent. solid, too. ask her about that later. she will tell you, or she will request pain relief." he lifts his mug in a toast, and the figure's frown deepens.

just as quickly as it appeared, the image vanishes. he hears movement from beyond the cracked bedroom door, followed by a voice. low, but not quite low enough.

"john?"

"yeah, darl?"

darl?

"i'm, uh, sore from...dancing last night. do you mind setting out something in the bathroom for it?"

something in the wall behind nikolai makes an awful sound. a muffled, metal-on-metal rumbling. an equivalent to grinding teeth together. his grin widens, and he spreads his legs a little further.

"of course, darl, i'll—"

"oh! and ask nik what he wants for breakfast, okay?"

he laughs quietly into his too-sweet coffee at the program's stiff and resigned assent.

[phossiii]

｡𖦹°‧⭑ monsters: chapter four

synopsis: you and phosphorus cover for flag. and your "other personality" pays a visit.

cw: reader is a monster, mature themes, violence, profanity, innuendos, phosphorus is phosphorus, gore, blood, demon shit, reader might be a bit op but who cares.

"Are they fuckin' killing each other?" you scoffed, incredulously, as you pressed your pointed ear against the door with G.I Robot.

"Not too far off from what you sounded like an hour ago, sunshine," Phosphorus teased, reaching out to touch you.

"You wanna lose that hand?"

Instantly, your tail whipped up, its sharp edge pointing directly at his throat, Weasel letting out a whimper at the sudden movement.

The four of you were outside the bathroom, waiting for Ilana to finish patching up Flag's injuries.

Though, as made evident by the aggressive, obnoxious moaning, they seemed to have gotten side-tracked.

'Typical...'

Nodding, Phosphorus raised his hands in defense, smirking—unbeknownst to you.

"Message received."

"Have you seen General Flag?" Alexi asked, appearing seemingly out of nowhere.

The four of you glanced at each other, before turning to face him with indifferent expressions.

"Uh, yeah, why?" Phosphorus shrugged.

"Because he should be informed that two of your teammates have left the grounds."

Your eyes widened, slightly, brow raising with confusion.

'The Bride... and Nina?'

You knew the Bride didn't give a shit, but you were surprised that Nina went along.

You never thought she would rebel, seeing as she seemed terrified to step a single webbed-toe out of line.

Not to mention, she had her little goody-two-shoes thing going on.

"Yeah, he's, uh, in there..." Phosphorus stood up straight, pointing his thumb toward the door.

But just as the captain was about to move forward, you stopped him, pressing your reddened palm into his chest plate.

"You don't wanna do that," you sighed, attempting to spare him from the sight of his princess in such a... compromising position.

"Maybe you should just give him thirty seconds," your skeletal partner agreed.

Alexi raised a brow, suspicious.

"I mean, you've seen the princess. I don't know how he could hold out for more than thirty seconds, do you?"

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest as Weasel let out a soft squeak.

"Ah, you got a point, Weez," Phosphorus nodded, thoughtfully resting his hand on his chin. "He's an older guy... probably has a lot of experience. Give him a full minute."

"This is not funny. Why are you smiling?" Alexi ignored.

"Slow down, bigot," Phosphorus scoffed, pulling open his lab coat. "I'm a freaking skeleton. It looks like I'm smiling even when I'm not."

"You are not smiling?"

"Oh, I am... But you can't tell that."

Punctuating his sentence, the sounds of banging echoed from the door, followed by Rick and Ilana's moans

It went on for an uncomfortably long minute, but once it was over, Alexi let out a sigh.

"May I knock now?" he asked.

Phosphorus held up a finger, forcing him to wait as they started up again, only louder, the sounds making you want to smash your head into the wall.

'I was better off at Arkham...'

After Flag cussed you both out for waiting to tell him that the Bride and Nina had escaped, Task Force M left to go rescue them from Circe and the Sons of Themyscira.

But after you arrived to find that neither of them had been horribly harmed, everyone quickly realized their real objective was to leave the princess without protection.

Which is why all of you hauled ass back to the castle, and why all of you were currently charging into the battle-filled courtyard with Alexi's super-powered, armored truck.

Zooming forward, he mowed down a Son that was about to toss a grenade at the royal guards, dismembering the bastard on impact before coming to a complete stop.

The Bride exited the vehicle guns blazing, as well as Flag and Alexi, shooting down five of the Sons right out the gate.

With a sigh, you cracked your neck, exhaling deeply out of your mouth.

"My body is mine... it belongs to me... Shall Mahalat come running... I will force her to flee," you muttered under your breath, repeatedly, as you kicked off your boots.

'Arkham shrinks... don't let me down.'

Out of the team of psychiatrists tasked with keeping you mentally sane, one offered a simple, catchy mantra to help you keep your "other personality" under control.

Whenever you thought Mahalat was going to show herself, or forcefully take over, you were supposed recite it, as the words would keep her at bay.

It worked well enough in your cell—but, then again, you were heavily medicated, anyway, so it was hard to say for certain.

Rushing forward, you dodged the oncoming barrage of bullets from the group of Sons in front of you, completing forward flips, handsprings, and round-offs to build momentum before launching yourself in the air.

There, you attacked, using your tail to slash the eyes of the man in front of you before kicking him into another, the force so powerful that it smashed their skulls together.

Landing on the ground, you turned quickly, shooting a small beam of fire from your finger tip and meeting the oncoming bullet heading for your shoulder, completely destroying it as well as burning a pea sized hole within the man's brain.

Using your speed, you got in close to the three grunts next to him, punching the first one in the face with a flaming fist as your tail twisted the neck of the second.

When the first one tired to shoot, you swirled around, using the second as human shield while you kicked the third in the nuts, forcing him to his knees and thus low enough where your legs could reach.

Using your feet, you grabbed his face and the back of his head before violently jerking, snapping his neck all the way around.

But before he could fall, you ran up his face like a wall, using it to flip yourself back around as your tail let go of the second man's neck.

Landing on the first one's shoulders, you ignited your hands in flame, slamming your fists down on his head with a sickening thud and caving in his skull.

Though, you had little time to celebrate, as the raining bullets from the castle began to increase, forcing you to leap away and duck behind the fountain with the others.

"Are these Nazis, General?" G.I asked from his place standing up, seeing as he was bullet-proof.

With a smirk, Flag turned to him, giving an affirmative nod.

"Yeah, G.I... these are Nazis."

Breaking out into a wide smile, the robot retracted his arms and replaced them with guns, opening fire on the Sons of Themyscira with a look of absolute glee.

Though, it came to a surprise for everyone when his torso suddenly detached, some sort of hover technology allowing him to float high into the air, where two additional guns were added to each arm.

"Hit the deck!" Flag exclaimed.

Quickly, G.I began to spin, his bullets utterly dismembering every Son of Themyscira in sight.

'Holy shit!'

He looked so happy, so utterly relieved to kill Nazis.

It was adorable, and even you were fighting off the smile rising to your lips.

That is... until Circe appeared, completely destroying him.

"G.I!" Nina screamed as he exploded right before her eyes, his parts raining down on the ground below.

"Well, that's enough of that," Circe scowled, looking down upon you all before shooting a large beam of destructive, purple magic.

Quickly, you all dove out the way, just barely avoiding the attack as chunks of the stone fountain shot into the air.

"Is that magic I smell, o' pitiful flesh?" a terrifyingly familiar voice grinned within your mind, turning your blood to ice in an instant.

'No... no, no, no, no, no! Not now! Not today!'

"My body is mine, it belongs to me. Shall Mahalat come running, I'll force her to flee," you muttered, frantically, screwing your eyes shut with fear as you pulled yourself into the fetal position, hugging your legs. "My body is mine, it belongs to me. Shall Mahalat come running, I'll force her to flee!"

"(y/n)! Snap out of it! What's wrong with you?!" Flag barked as he glanced over his shoulder, shooting at a couple of the straggling Sons as he noticed you were laying down in the middle of a battle.

"Is she having a mental breakdown in the middle of a fight?" the Bride asked, going back to back with the general.

"I was told she was cleared for the field!"

"Stupid girl. You know better than I such a weak incantation cannot keep me at bay..."

"Shut up!" you spat, sharply, as you clutched your head. "My body is mine! It belongs to me! Shall—!"

"Enough."

With a choking gasp, she silenced you, forcing your body to float into the air.

Like countless times before, your pupils shrank to the thin slits of a snake, the others watching with awe and confusion as your limbs fell limply to your sides.

"Sunuk zetam ma'ak kula baa nat su da Mahalat!"

Your voice seemed to dubbed over by another, more malevolent one, and after the words were spoken, you burst into hellish flame.

Within this flame, large, red, pointed wings sprouted from your back, your horns growing larger, fangs extending, claws growing, and clothes tearing, leaving you in the tattered remnants of your leather pants and top.

Though, when you turned to Rick Flag, you were no longer you.

But rather the thing that's been haunting you since you since you first opened your eyes in this world.

Mahalat.

"Where has the witch gone?" Mahalat asked, her voice dubbed over yours.

Utterly speechless, both Flag and the Bride pointed toward the castle, where Circe had flown to attack Ilana.

With a bone chilling grin, the demon turned around, her large, strong wings propelling her quickly as she zoomed toward the princess's broken, bedroom window.

Free for the first time in years, Mahalat had only one thing on her mind.

Kill. Kill. Kill.

When she reached the two, Circe had her magical orbs drawn, ready to destroy an already beaten up Ilana.

In an instant, Mahalat flew forward, grabbing Circe by the neck with a sharp, burning hand.

She fought back with a scream, hands frantically clawing at the demon's arm as her throat began to cook.

"I wonder..." Mahalat smirked, her sharp nails drawing blood with her harsh grip. "Is the flesh of a witch as delicious as I remember?"

With a sick grin, she lifted the woman higher, allowing a few droplets of her blood to drip onto her face.

"It's been a millennium since I've had one in my clutches..."

With a malicious chuckle, the demon sank her fangs into Circe's shoulder, the sorceress letting out a blood-curdling scream as the meat was torn from her bones.

Muscle, tendons, and all.

Taking a moment to enjoy her new snack, Mahalat threw Circe out the window with impossible force, leaving her to fall onto the concrete below.

Out the corner of her eye, she glanced at the princess, who looked absolutely horrified, before flying after her dinner.

As Circe attempted to scramble away, Mahalat landed harshly on her back, the sharp claws of the demon's feet digging into the witch's flesh and keeping her in place as she was absolutely mauled.

Any available skin was up for the taking, Mahalat's claws and fangs destroying anything they could reach with a delighted grin.

And as she went to town on Circe's back, Phosphorus approached, lifting Circe's chin with—what everyone could tell—a sick grin

"I always love a good barbecue."

Pressing an irradiated hand into her face, she let out another bone-chilling scream, unable to do anything but sit there as her face was cooked alive and her back was torn to shreds.

From the distance, Flag watched, wide-eyed and thoroughly disturbed as the two before him tortured the sorceress, the realization donning on him pretty quickly that the both of you had gone incredibly easy during your fight in the kitchen.

"You wanted monsters... you got monsters," the Bride smirked, standing knowingly by his side.

"Kunus matez ka'am aluk baa nat su da (y/n)!" your voice finally managed to break through, stopping the demon in her tracks.

Pupils dilating, you snapped out of it in an instant—your wings slowly returning into your back, your horns shrinking, fangs receding, and claws disappearing—while still leaving you in your torn up clothes.

Quickly, you threw yourself off the witch, chest rising and falling rapidly as you snapped your head around, frantically touching yourself to gauge if it was really you, while also covering your practically bare chest.

That was the first time she'd taken over in over three years.

You hoped it would never happen again.

'What did I do?! Who did I kill?! Oh, God, I can taste blood?! Who did I eat?! Why did I—?!'

"Hey," Phosphorus's voice broke through your spiral.

Out of instinct, you flinched, but when you looked up at him, you realized he was holding out his lab coat.

Your eyes widened slightly, surprised by his kindness, and you couldn't help but stare at him with suspicion.

What was the gag?

Where was the joke?

Why was he being so... chivalrous?

"Unless you wanna walk around with your tits out," he shrugged, standing up straight with a grin. "I mean, I'm not complaining—"

Quickly, you took it from his hand, throwing it over your shoulders and crossing it over your chest, avoiding all eye contact.

You weren't sure how or why... but he was doing you a solid, so you wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Thanks," you muttered, standing up.

"You don't understand what you've done!" Circe awoke from her pain induced fainting with a gasp, glaring up at you all as Weasel, Bride, and Flag reconvened.

Your eyes widened even further at her injuries, a little sorry.

It was nowhere near the worst you'd done to someone... but still.

Attempting to gather her breath, she turned her sights on Flag, brows furrowing harshly.

"You've doomed the world!"

[trippinsorrows]

wicked games + one

authors note: here we go again. i have no excuse atp. none whatsoever. this is more a prologue than anything, because the following parts will show just we ended up here...

words: 4k

**gif belongs to @dejameflorecer

warnings: angst

Her laughter haunts him.

Once an anodyne for any and all of his bad days, now the source of his bad days.

That same laughter echoes through the hotel room, radiates from the phone in his hand as he watches one of the many videos she took.

“I want to remember these moments,” she once told him as explanation for why she seemingly couldn’t go one date or outing without snapping a photo or recording a video of them together.

The video in question that serves as his punishment is one she took when they were at his place. One of the times where he didn’t take her somewhere special or have elaborate plans. He just wanted to be around her and vice versa.

Roman sees himself sitting back on the sofa, remote in hand, probably trying to decide between the options of movies she gave him.

She then shifts the focus back onto her, and he’s immediately moved by how she’s wearing only one of his shirts, signifying she’d spent the night.

Roman’s chest tightens.

He hasn't had a good night’s rest in months, the absence of her, in all the ways, chasing and overwhelming his every waking moment.

“Ro!” She giggles, moving around again, now on her knees on the sofa as she holds onto him from the side. “Can you at least smile for me? You look like I’m torturing you.”

Present Roman watches past Roman cast an irritated glance to the camera followed by a significantly relaxed one to her. “You know I’m not a camera person like that, Sol.”

She rolls her eyes. So big and pretty. Innocent. “Whatever.” Her dismissal is followed by her kissing his cheek and smiling wryly. “I know how to get your attention.”

A misunderstanding on her part, because she always had his attention. 

Still does.

More movement followed by music playing in the background. 

G-A-N-G baby, let me B-A-N-G, baby

Let me fuck some'

G-A-N-G baby, let me B-A-N-G, baby

Let me fuck some'

He’d heard the song before, played at the gym and club a couple of times, but the song is not the focus. She is. Always. He watches her her climb onto his lap, that sneaky look on her face replaced with a new angle.

The angle of her holding the phone so it’s focused on her ass as she twerks on top of him, cheeks and hips moving perfectly in sync to the beat of the song. 

If that ass fat, better shake that shit (Baow, baow)

Put a hand up if you take dick (Tryna fuck some')

Keep shit P, I'll never be a trick

But the way she fuck, make me spend that shit (Let me fuck some')

A viewing at a different time would probably evoke a different, more physical, carnal reaction from him, but present Roman is too focused on the sound of her laughter when past Roman slaps her ass and tugs her against him.

She bites on her bottom lip, focusing the video back on them as he whispers something in her ear that makes her eyes go wide.

She gasps, smiling and blushing as she turns to him, “Roman!”

The video stops, and the emptiness returns. 

Roman locks his phone, gripping it. His eyes shut, the memories crashing into him like waves of suffocation and devastation. 

He’s not sure why he continues to do this to himself. To torture himself with constant reminders of what will always be his biggest regret in this life. 

The same reason he’s unsure why he’s even doing this.

He needs to leave her alone. He promised he would leave her alone.

But, that was before. 

Before he was informed. Before it was told to him. Not a sure thing. Just a rumor. But a rumor, nonetheless, that resulted in him hopping on the jet and flying to Mexico. A rumor he needs to know is either just that—a rumor—or a secret that’s bound to change everything.

For better or worse remains to be seen. 

It takes another ten minutes for him to exit the vehicle, ten minutes of going back and forth if he should just get back in his car and drive straight to the airport. It’s tempting, but not enough.

He needs to know.

And that’s what he keeps reminding himself of as he makes his way through the mall strip, partially confused due to the fact that it’s all in Spanish. He keeps in mind, however, the name of the shop and the pictures she showed him. Pictures that included promises of him to come see it in person, for her to give him a personal tour of all of her home, one day.

Promises and dreams that lie in the wastelands of what could but will never be.

Bypassing a couple, the woman wearing a bright green bikini top and shorts brings him back to a memory.

She runs over to him, giggling, holding onto her chest, the thin straps of her lime green bikini top failing to properly secure those beautiful breast of hers.

Sitting and straddling his lap, she takes the phone from him. "Let me see."

He watches her eyes survey the photos he snapped, his hand moving to her hips, holding her. "They alright?"

Her eyes flicker up to him. She nods with a small smile, kissing his cheek. "They're perfect."

Roman says nothing but thinks the same.

She is perfect.

Placing the phone down on the towel that he sits on, she moves her arms around his neck. "Guess what I've been thinking about?"

He makes a sound, hands massaging the meat of her hips. "No idea. Tell me."

She bites on her bottom lip, answering in a giddy tone. "Us."

Funny. He thinks the of the same thing. More often than not.

Roman lifts his hand to her chin, gaze softening. "What about us?"

Her eyes alight with elation. "When we're married and have a house full of kids running around."

Her answer surprises him. To some extent. Not entirely. She's brought up marriage before. Voiced her desire for them to one day be wed, but it's always marred by the dark secrets he continues to sit on.

Continues to withhold from her.

Solana nods, moving her hands up and down his broad shoulders. "I want to get married back home in Mexico, but I want us to live here in the states." She explains, sighing in awe. "I want us to have a house in the country though."

He chuckles quietly. "The country, huh?"

Her smile is warm and loving as she leans forward, holding him, burying herself against his safety. "I want to be away from everyone. Just you. Me. Our kids." Solana sighs as he moves his hands up her back and kisses the top of her head. "Us.....that's all we need."

Detaching from distant times, Roman does his best to push away those uncomfortable feelings and heartbreaking memories to stay focused on the task at hand, his dedication eventually bringing him to his destination.

Dulce's.

He stands outside the building, recognizing the outside, the beautiful flower arrangements that line the window. It's all so her.

And for a second, he considers turning around once more. Fears this place of purity and sanctuary will be polluted by him, polluted by the stench of betrayal that follows him wherever he goes.

But, the desire, the almost need to have his question answered is overpowering. Is enough to take him to that next stop.

And Roman walks into the store.

“Buenos días!”

Months.

It’s been months since he’s heard her voice in real time, having to make do with archival footage. But hearing it now, after so long, the happiness in it, it’s….difficult, to say the least. Roman swallows, studying the back of her head as she stands behind the counter, clearly working on a bouquet, the seconds stretching to minutes in terms of how long it takes her to turn around. But, when she does, he’s wishing she didn’t “Cómo puedo ayudarle—”

Solana is silent the minute her eyes land on him, the terror and shock in her pretty brown hues filling him with all the shame. 

She’s far from pleased at the sight of him.

Her mouth parts slightly, and he swears he can see her chest gradually moving up and down, indication of panic. “Roman?” It’s been months since he’s heard his name on her mouth in real time, and it nearly kills him how horrified she sounds saying it. “Wh—what—how—”

Roman didn’t think of what exactly he was going to say when he was standing in front of her, didn’t think he needed to. Now, he realizes that wasn’t the smartest decision. Her very strong reaction to seeing him shouldn't surprise him, shouldn’t bother him. After all, what he did to her…the way he hurt her….he’s surprised the door isn’t slammed in his face.

“I—” Struggling with verbalization has never been a thing for him until this moment. “I needed to see you. We—we need to talk.”

For better or worse, his words seem to trigger her out of her state of shock. Her brows furrow slightly, her hands tightly gripping the counter. “How did you find me?” 

“Solana—”

“How—” Her voice is harder, a new emotion rising: anger. “did you find me?”

He straightens, jaw fixed. “I’ve always known where you were.”

And, it shouldn't come as a surprise. It only made sense after everything he did to her, the pain he caused her, that she would return to her safe space. Be around her family.

That she would go home.

Her expression seems to indicate she recognizes this as well. Recognizes that it was maybe unwise to think Roman, of all people, would not know where she disappeared to. “Well, you’ve wasted your time, because I have nothing to say to you.” 

It’s then that she tries to turn away from him, but he takes a step closer, hating how she leans back against the counter. It’s almost physically painful to see and feel her disgust towards him. “You don’t want to talk to me, I get that.”

Solana’s eyes widen, her voice harsh and unforgiving. “I don’t even want to see you, let alone speak to you.” She shakes her head, reaching and pointing to the door behind him. “Now, I won’t tell you again, get out.”

Roman does his best to shove away the emotions that only seem to come up when he’s with and around her. “Solana, please just—”

“Don’t you get it!” She snaps, gesturing again to the door. “I don’t want anything to do with you, Roman! I don’t want to think about you, I don’t want to remember you.” Emotion imbues her voice and face. “I’d give anything to be able to wipe you and the past year from my memory.”

A slap. Verbal. Painful.

He straightens, reminding himself of his objective. Reminding himself that everything she’s throwing at him is deserved, no matter how much it kills him to know just how she feels about him.

About them. 

“I know I don’t deserve it, but I just need—”

“You don’t get to need anything from me!”

Another fair statement. Understandable. But, it doesn’t negate the fact that he needs to talk to her about this. He needs to know. 

And, it’s only then that Roman allows himself to take her in. Her face and breast both look fuller, a certain glow to her she’s always had but seems….brighter. He’s also just now noticing the way she keeps adjusting her dress. 

Specifically around the stomach area.

He….he doesn’t know what or if anything to make of that. 

Solana, however, seems to notice his gaze that’s focused on her stomach area and clears her throat, moving past the counter to walk away. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you to please lea—”

Roman knows being forceful isn’t the best move in this situation. However, he’s not even sure if there is a right thing to do, but what he does, whether right or wrong, manages to answer his question in the most unexpected way. 

His arm reaching across, serving as a barrier that prevents her from walking away. An effective barrier, but also a source of reveal. Because when Solana jumps back slightly, that movement causes the material of her dress to flatten against her stomach, revealing an unmistakable swell. 

A bump.

A baby bump.

There was already a million and one things going through his mind from the moment Jimmy mentioned to him that he overheard Bayley tell Naomi that Solana was pregnant. And normally, he wouldn’t think anything of it. Would try to come to peace with the fact that not only had Solana truly moved on, but she was starting a family with someone else. A quick turnaround time, but not anything he could judge. Not fairly, anyway.

But, this nagging, insistent voice in the back of the head wouldn’t leave him. Wouldn’t trickle away. Because he knows Solana.

Knows how major her letting him take her virginity was for her. Sacred. Special. 

He couldn’t envision a world where she could just fall in bed with someone else so soon and end up pregnant, at that. And, it’s all of that that led him to his suspicion that if Solana was in fact pregnant, it wasn’t by another man.

It was by him. 

An almost inconceivable thing he sat on for almost a week before feeling an almost requirement to fly down to Mexico and see for himself.

And seeing, he certainly is. 

“It’s true.” His voice is barely above a whisper, shock and a million other emotions swirling around his entire being. He doesn’t even really register the way her face turns red, undecipherable emotions coming over her. “You’re pregnant….”

Somehow, they both seem to snap back to a more logical state, Solana covering her body. “That’s none of your business.”

His eyes snap to hers, and for the first time since stepping foot into her shop, he’s hit with something else other than an insurmountable amount of regret.

He’s hit with anger.

“None of my business?” His voice is leveled and even. “You’re carrying my child, Solana. How the hell is that none of my business?”

“No, it’s my child,” she counters, voice just as firm as his as she reiterates, “my baby, who I will raise by myself. You don’t get to be in their life.”

Just like that, anger morphs into burning rage at her words. It’s one thing to keep him completely in the dark about the existence of his own child but to still think that she can keep him in the dark once the light is on is beyond him.

Roman knows he hurt her. Did her wrong. Broke her heart, and he’ll always live with the regret of that. But, their unborn child has nothing to do with what transpired between them, and it’s unfair to try to keep him away. 

And he responds as such, from that place of hurt.  “The hell I don’t. You’re crazy as hell if you think I’m gon’ let you keep me out of my child’s life.”

A poor choice of words, the wrong thing to say, clearly. 

“Roman….” Her name leaving his mouth is a thing of disbelief, like she’s incapable of comprehending just what she’s hearing. “In what world do you think you have any right to be involved in my child’s life?”

It’s the singular possessive word of ‘my’ that continues to grate his already paltry nerves. “Our child!”

“No!” She yells, jumping an octave and a level of vulnerability. “I won’t let you be in their life, Roman! I don’t care if I have to—if I have to move to do it. I’ll—I’ll go into hiding.”

Roman can’t deny the fear that creeps into him at her threat. Solana leaving and going home to Mexico is one thing, nothing really, because he knew where she was. But Solana disappearing and going off the radar, with their child, is something entirely different.

He won’t have that.

He can’t have that.

“I’ll find you,” a quiet, truthful vow. A promise. “I’ll always find you.”

She lifts her chin, reiterating, “then I’ll keep moving, keep running for as long as I have to to keep this baby away from you.” Her voice breaks, her jaw trembling, as she admits in a quiet voice, “I won’t let her hurt her the way you hurt me.”

His shoulder drop, anger melting away, incapable of remaining in the face of such hurt.

“Solana….”

He tries to step toward her only for her to jerk back, arms almost protectively wrapped around her stomach.

“Do you have any idea how empty I’ve felt?” A rhetorical question, he’s sure, but one that cuts him. Cuts him deep. “How I—how I cry myself to sleep most nights. How stupid I feel at believing you ever cared about me, ever loved me. How–how I try to not think about how this baby got here, the lies she was created from?"

“Solana, my love for you has never and will never be a lie.” And that has and will always be the God’s honest truth. “Baby, I love you.”

“Fuck you, Roman!” She yells, tears leaking down her face. “You don’t do what you did to me to people you claim to love! You don’t even know what love is! You’re not capable of it!”

He swallows. “Solana—”

“You are a heartless monster. You feel nothing for people. You use them for what you need, and then you throw them to the wayside like they’re trash. You broke me!” She looks away, covering her mouth to conceal the sob she’s doing her best to hold in. “You—you don’t deserve to be a father.”

Roman refuses to show her deep her words hit him, the pain she clearly still feels from how they ended, from what he did. He knows he deserves it, that he broke her heart, that he fucked with her head. But still, he never thought she’d be the type to hold their issues with each other against him when it came to a child.

Their child.

He swallows, doing his best to not allow the verbal daggers to consume him, because although deserved, it’s still a devastating, excruciatingly painful experience. One he wasn’t fully prepared for. 

Roman looks down, taking a breath, wanting, needing to be careful with what he says next. “Solana, I—”

“Hermana?”

A new voice introduced into the conversation. Male. Unfamiliar. Unwanted.

A scowl appears on Roman’s face as trepidation overtakes Solana.

“Wes….”

Roman’s scowl falters ever so slightly. Wes…..

He’s heard that name before. 

It takes a second or two for it to hit him. Wesley.

Solana’s brother.

Fuck.

She angles her body more toward him. “Wh—what are you—”

“Roman Reigns?” He’s clearly not listening to her, his suspecting, almost challenging gaze focused on Roman. “What the hell?”

Solana shakes her head, nervously twiddling with the material of her dress. “Wes, plea—”

“What the hell do you want with my sister?” Wesley’s angry question is directed toward an irritated Roman. He doesn’t have time for this shit. Wes takes a step closer. “Leave her the fuck alone.”

“Wesley, please,” Solana implores, her eyes pleading. “It’s not—”

“How do you even know her?” The questions are fair and ongoing but simultaneously increasing Roman’s irritation and Solana’s apprehension. “Why are you even here?”

“This doesn’t fucking concern you,” Roman snaps. To his credit, if it was anyone else, he’d have them unconscious. Or dead. But, this is Solana’s sibling, so he’s doing his best to remain calm. As calm as Roman Reigns is capable of being. 

“Anything concerning my little sister concerns me, motherfucker.” Roman has to smile, has to look away, jaw clenched and flexing. This son of a bitch truly doesn’t know who the fuck he’s dealing with.

Solana must detect as such, pleading with her brother once again, “Wesley, please, just—just give us a minute.”

Roman returns his gaze to the two of them, watching as Wes temporarily redirects his focus from the Head of the Table to the woman standing between them. 

“Solana, what’s going on?” A calmer delivery combined with a suspicious gaze. “How do you know him?”

Roman couldn’t give two shits about Solana’s brother right about now. Doesn’t care that even while carrying his child, she’s still keeping the truth about them, about their prior relationship, a secret. It was always something she preferred.

“I just want to enjoy us. Without all the opinions.”

A shared sentiment during nicer, happier, simpler times.

“I—” She’s clearly at a loss of words, unsure of how to handle said situation. “I—” But, a cardinal, betraying mistake is made the minute she, most likely unintentionally, tightens her grip around her belly. A protective, telling thing, because Roman is also very much aware of the second recognition dawns.

“No…..” Wes eyes widen from the disbelief that accompanies said recognition. “He’s the father, isn’t he?”

Solana sniffles, voice quiet, “I can explain, Wes—”

However, Wesley's attention is completely on the object of all his anger and rage.

Roman

“You son of a bitch!”

A verbal lashing accompanied by Wes charging for Roman who easily moves out the way. An active effort considering his first instinct is to lay this bastard out, because in what universe does he think he stands a chance one on one with Roman Reigns?

“Wesley, no!” Solana’s attempts to settle her brother are all in vain as he once again tries to swing at the Tribal Chief. “Stop!”

“She’s 24, you sick fuck!” And it’s up until this point Roman was doing a well enough job controlling himself, maintaining his composure, all things considered. But, it’s Wesley’s next accusation that all but snaps his self-control. “You fucking predator! You raped her!”

In that very moment, whatever hold Roman had on his temper is nonexistent. He’s blinded and consumed by anger, by rage, because Roman is a lot of things. But that has and never will be one of them.

Both hands formed into fists, Roman doesn’t try to dodge or even avoid Wesley as the shorter man once again attempts to come at him. He’s ready this time.

But so is Solana.

“No!” And just like that, she puts herself in between them, a hand on his chest and her brother’s. She says something in Spanish, rushed, pressured, aimed toward Wesley. And then she’s looking at Roman, eyes begging, switching back to English, “please leave.”

For a second, Roman considers it. Doesn’t want to cause her anymore stress—or pain—than he already has. But that fucking brother of hers twist the knife even more.

“You should be in jail, you rapist!”

“Stop calling him that, Wes!” Solana snaps, urgency and anger filling her voice. “He didn’t rape me! It was consensual!”

“You’re fucking 24, Solana! He’s almost 40! Nothing is consensual about that!” It’s not even the words and accusations as much as the fact that Wes is practically screaming at her that has Roman’s rage growing.

“Watch how you fucking speak to her,” Roman growls, mindful of Solana’s hand still on his chest. 

“Fuck you!” Wesley spats, hate in his eyes. “I should kill you for what you’ve done to her!"

“Wesley, please!”

“Shut up, Solana!” He screams, the volume and force of which make her jump, her eyes filled with shock. “Are you too stupid to even see—”

“What the fuck did you just call her?”

“I swear to God, if you say one more fucking thing to me—”

“What the fuck you gon’ do, huh?” Roman snaps, completely unhinged, seeing and feeling nothing but red. “You ain’t gon’ do shit!”

It all happens fast, so fast, too fast. Because one minute Solana is doing her best to separate two men she loves in two very different ways, and the next, an unconscious, unintentional act occurs. Unfocused, distracted gaze on the other person followed by a set of arms that push and shove her away. 

Solana’s balance is lost from the force of the push, her body stumbling backwards, a set of eyes—horrified, shocked, repentant—filled with abject horror and her name being called with matching said emotion, the last thing she sees before a brief, intense, painful thud against her head against the corner of the counter and the consumption of the dark abyss.

[qixttine]

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x GN! reader

Don't go. Getting sent on a suicide mission (Request!!)

At first, he was excited when you called him to your barracks. It's been a while since you two had spent some quality time with each other, and he thought he would get some action, maybe even cuddles? He had a stupid grin on his face at the thought, though it was covered by the mask.

But as soon as he heard of the mission, his stomach dropped. It was like a knife piercing his heart at the thought of his beloved, his one and only light, being sent to a fucking suicide mission. He was both devasted and angered.

How dare they? They could've spat in his face or done anything, and he would be fine with the fact, as long as they leave his beloved ALONE.

He felt like vomiting hearing the news, his whole world going black as he clenched his hands into fists at the sides.

He couldn't hear you, too lost in his world of swirling thoughts. He can't lose you, he cant. You're all he has, all he's known, all he wants and needs. He can't bear living without you.

Despite your attempts to assure him, it all fell deaf to his ears

He wants to beg, to plead, to sob you into staying. He wants to hold you and never let go. But he doesn't. He can't. His pride pulls him on a leash.

Instead of plainly begging, he does it silently. He demands your attention and even demands your presence in general. He would even help you with anything you needed and became more affectionate than usual. He was acting as if it was your last day on earth. He would sneak into your barracks late at night and kiss your lips until it was swollen, biting and nibbling on your skin while whispering affirmations that you're gonna be alright, convincing himself more than you. Nevertheless, you always refused. Being the good soldier you are, work came first. And as much as Simon loved every part of you, he hated that.

Finally, it was time. You leave tomorrow morning. Simon refused to be away from you that day. Hands on you wherever you go. Bathroom? He'll turn around, but he'll still be there. Packing? Hands on your waist wherever you walk, maybe even deliberately sabotaging you by hiding your clothes somewhere you can't reach. He would even eat and bathe with you, and it wouldn't even be sexual.

Eventually, night came, and he was a mess of nerves. But of course, being the stoic man he is, he didn't say a word. He trusted you, and he trusted you'll be safe and come back to him.

"Got everythin' you need, luv?" "Be careful out there, alright? Don't even think about doin' anythin' dumb." "You're gonna be okay, alright? You're gonna be fine. You-you'll be safe, back here in my arms, aren't ya, luv?"

He'll ramble his mouth off while you pack, probably talking more than he has in years. You kiss him to shut him up, and that he did.

Of course, it didn't end with just a kiss. You were the sore the next morning and found him asleep next to you, hugging your body so hard you were sure his grip would leave a bruise.

You woke him up, kissed his cheek, said goodbye, and left. You left. You actually left. You actually left him. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months and he felt empty, anxious, so fucking worried about you.

He would try to get more information about your mission, but nothing. It was all useless information, all indicating that it was a fucking suicide mission you HAD to go. You HAD to leave.

8 months passed before he heard from you. It was a shortly lived joy when he heard you were in the hospital. He almost cried, almost. As soon as the news hit him, he rushed to get out of the base and to wherever you may be.

When he saw you in the hospital bed, covered in bandages, bruised, nurses tending to you, he felt the anger returning. He was devasted. Yet he said nothing, nothing at all. But you knew better than to think he didn't care. You saw the emotion in his eyes. No matter how many layers of masks he wore, you still saw through him.

He took a leave that very day. No way in hell would he be working while you were in here. No, he was going to stick by your side. Every checkup, he's there. He'll help you to the bathroom, spoon feed you, hold your hand while you sleep, just to remind him that you were still there.

Of course, all while maintaining a stoic figure. Can't have people thinking he was soft now, no matter how true it may be when it came to you.

Eventually, you recovered, but he still insisted on following you wherever just in case. Nevertheless, after a week, he'd lessen the stalking you around and just settled for the daily updates.

Yet, he still gets nightmares from time to time of your bloodied body on the hospital bed, never waking up.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Honestly I think people confuse you being broadly willing to talk about what feels to them like personal and intimate things about other people (basically anything more than surface level sex ed can give that impression but probably the individual personal questions are a factor) with you being willing to talk about personal and intimate things about you. Even though the difference between being asked for information and advice (often by someone on anon) (with the asker initiating and deciding exactly how much detail to supply) is very clearly not the same thing as being directly asked questions you may not want to answer

yeahyeahyeah this is it exactly I think

[tackykachowch]

Jinx's appearance in s2 ep9 is a tragedy for her character. The writing throughout the season already tried its best to destroy absolutely everything meaningful to her and who she is at her core, and now we get the chance to see it visually.

I'll get this out of the way so nobody bothers me about it later: yes, I personally hate the design overall. But despite that if it was truthful to her character and reflected her journey well I wouldn't even squeak. Well, maybe one tiny time, but not make a whole post about it.

Alright, so right now I'm going to lign up all 3 of her designs and compare them in a sense how they represent Jinx as a character. I apologize for using The Wild Rift model because it's actual hell to find her s2 ep9 look in good quality and with a good view of the details.

There's a pretty stark difference between Powder and Jinx. The only element they share is gloves, but on Jinx they are modified and have a different color. There are however also similiar "motifs"(?), like purple stripes on clothes, Jinx's belts are positioned in a way that mirrors Powder's blue...thing on her pants; also Powder has a small braid on the side of her head, as well as golden hairpins, while Jinx has two braids that are waaay longer, but she still has golden elements that support her braids.

Now, the differences. Powder's clothes are layered and are made from different fabrics, covering almost her entire body. This represents that she's a shy, frightly girl with very low self-esteem. Jinx, on the other hand, has waaay more open skin, even to a somewhat inappropriate degree. This shows us that she became confident and doesn't care what others think of her, maybe even to a fault. Her boots in some way resemble jester's shoes, showing us her more light-hearted attitude, especially towards violence.

Also, unlike Powder, who only ever shot from a toy gun and made bombs that didn't work, Jinx is a prodigy bomb maker and a master shooter with (what seems like) a hand-made pistol, and on top of that has an also self-made machine gun. So from all of this we can pick up that this is the same person, but she changed in a huge way, hence why even her name is different.

Now, onto the Jinx we see in s2 ep9. She cut off her braids, colored streaks of her hair, especially on the bang, replaced her pants, top, and belts, made herself a hood, painted over her tattoos with x-es and Ekko's symbols, fused her machine gun with Fishbones, her recently made rocket launcher (ignore the wild rift picture for this part), and completely remade her pistol. The only things that carry over from her previous outfit are gloves, boots (which are now fully laced), her necklace aaaand yeah that's it. Motifs are left the same, except for her hair of course.

Now, I want to talk about a couple of elements in detail. Her hood is made from unknown material, and resembles some kind of monster, rather than a monkey, raven or shark, her previously established symbols. Like someone pointed out, it probably resembles drawings on Isha's helmet.

Also Jinx has pink markings under her eyes, just like Powder from Ekko's vision in season 1 ep7.

The bandages that replace her top are the same ones Vi has.

So, with all of that information, what can we tell about Jinx at the end of her journey? The obvious answer is that she decided to move on, but in what way? Accepting both "Powder" and "Jinx" parts of her? But then why did she paint over her tattoos? Something permanent, that shows how irreversibly she changed over the years, and will never become the same girl again? Moreover, why didn't she make the new tattoos, pink bullets? Yes yes, pink bullets. Both LoL Jinx and even s2 ep9 skin for Jinx in The Wild Rift have pink bullets tattoos, but arcane Jinx doesn't. Why tho? Well, of course, it's our good ol' pal Silco erasure. Because, you see, Jinx killed Silco with her Pow-Pow, and when she shoots with it, the bullets are seen as pink projectiles. So, not only does Jinx figuratively want to "paint over" her past with Silco, she also in no way wants to capture what she did to him and that in the very same night she finally accepted herself as Jinx. Of course we know that s2 writers didn't want to follow up on this decision, but adding a couple of effects onto her model isn't that big of a job. Anyway

Why did she go back to covering her legs entirely? Is she more careful now, orrr perhaps she seeks protection from someone? No. Why does she have paint all over her, and Ekko's symbols in particular? Is she a part of the Firelights now? Even if that's the case, it was never confirmed on screen. Why did she completely change her haircut, only leaving a bang? I guess hair holds the memories or whatever, so to start a new life you shouldn't have any memories of the previous one? Idk. Why did she replace her top with bandages like Vi's, if the last time they saw each other Jinx told Vi to let her go and forget about her? Idk. Why did she fuse Pow-Pow and Fishbones together? Idk.

The only things I more or less don't question are the hood and markings, but then again, I'm not really happy with the fact that we see Jinx in them in her "last" moments either. That's the part of my biggest problem with all of this, actually. It took around 10 years for Jinx to have such a big difference in how she looks, but the latest change happened literally overnight. No matter how you try to explain this, this is objectively terrible writing. In less than one episode the main character of the series drastically changed her appearance in ways that should tell us about a big character development, but we didn't get a chance to see any of it. Not the process, nor the development itself, because Jinx behaves in ep9 the same way she behaves in the rest of s2.

So, what was that all about? I guess they wanted to fill out the quota of a minimum of two outfit changes per season, but it's in no way justified within the show. And that's why this is a tragedy. Jinx went from the most well-written character in the show with incredible design and conflict to the writer's toy which only function is to be sacrificed.

[arcturusqww]

Claggor meeting shy! reader for the first time and having a crush.

Pairing: Claggor x shy! reader

Info: Fluff, cute, reader is shy and slightly intimidated by Clag, Claggor being a flirt and a cutie. AU! Claggor.

“Go.. save him from himself—” That’s when Claggor’s eyes lifted to meet the beauty before Mylo’s crush. His brown eyes widened slightly while he took in the sight of you, his lips parting ever so lightly and making a small gasp with no sound. When you gazed at his way and saw the quite big guy staring at you, it’s safe to say you weren’t exactly thrilled also adding the fact that he was too mesmerized to look away. You quickly averted your eyes, making him realize his mistake. The lightest shade of pink painted his cheeks as he returned to talking with the white haired boy in front of him— who also was too captivated by his own love to realize Claggor’s reactions.

Now Claggor had to continue his night, trying to forget about the beautiful person that he saw for the first time ever. Surely, you weren’t from Zaun, if you were he’d know you. He guessed you were perhaps a citizen of Piltover or a tourist coming to the city.. but well, if you were a tourist, you’d probably prefer to be in the better side of the city— Piltover rather than the under-city. It would be too embarrassing for him to see you again, not that a small part of him didn’t wish he would.

As the night went on, Claggor gathered information from there and there. You were a Piltover who came down to Zaun for the first time ever since the two parts of the city finally combined their ways. You became friends with a few people after bumping into them in the peaceful streets of the upper city, despite being a reversed person, now coming down for the celebration to meet more people. You also learned a few things about Claggor from your new friends— now being Mylo and Powder. He seemed like a big, scary man to be honest, from what they told you he was supposed to be a nice guy, really. But if anything, he felt condensing to you. So you hoped you wouldn’t have to cross paths with him anytime soon, at least until you became more comfortable in your new social cycle.

Now it was a few days after the celebration and Claggor was taking a walk in the whole of the city, taking a small break from his work which he usually enjoys, just not today. His gaze wandered around the calm of the streets, watching people, looking around the stands… his steps were random but still purposeful as he continued walking.

After hearing the yell of a mechanic seller, his face turned towards the voice and his steps slowed down a little before he felt a small crash towards his body, followed by a whimper. He quickly returned his face to the scene in front of him and looked at the ground to see you, on the floor, looking up to him with adorable eyes, he thought. His cheeks flushed and he quickly bend over to help you up, murmuring soft apologies.

“Sorry, sorry.. didn’t see you there..” His bigger hands wrapped it’s way around yours much smaller ones. “It’s ’kay..” Oh god, he could’ve died there, you sounded so delicate, almost like an angel in his mind. With the help of Claggor, you got back up on your feet, his hands still holding yours as a way to steady you. His eyes followed your face carefully just like nights before, though he quickly realized his repeated mistake after seeing your slightly red cheeks and avoidant eyes then turned his eyes to check any possible injury on you as well as letting go of your hands and letting them awkwardly stand by his sides.

“Are you okay?.. uh, do you need any help?— I-i’ll help you if you want.” He stuttered a bit, feeling shy to be so close to you right now. “I’m fine.. thanks for the thought..” You say as you brush the dust off of your clothes, with a small huff. His lips curled up slightly in a silly grin at your huff, almost finding your annoyance sweet. He takes a deep breath to gather up courage and confidence to make an official meeting between you two while you continued to see if there was any more dust on your clothes.

“I saw you before! Ah.. I never thought we’d cross paths like this. But, since we did.. may i ask your name, my lady?” He tried to keep a flirtatious and brave tone while he offered you his hand, holding it out as he bent over slightly to meet your height. “I?-.. Yes, i remember.. it’s (name)..” Your voice was quiet but still audible, eyes still avoiding to look up to him while you lent your hand in his, allowing him to grasp it gently. “..and you?”

“Claggor.. You must’ve heard from Mylo though.” He brought the upper surface of your hand to his lips and planted a light kiss before letting go. “Mylo?.. You’re brothers, right?..” You ask, now the blush on your face growing darker with the gesture. “Yes, adoptive.” He chuckled lightheartedly before continuing, “Are you interested in coming down to Zaun some time?.. I’m sure you don’t know much about it, i could show you around then maybe we could.. drink afterwards?” His heart was beating against his chest because of the bold words he was saying, slight pink tainted his cheeks. Though, not even close to the one on yours, your face was burning with embarrassment when you finally lifted your gaze to look up to him.

“T-that would be nice.. yeah, i’d like that..” You answer quietly as your gazes met, the gentle glint in his eyes making you feel more comfortable. “Are you free tomorrow?” He asked with a nod, now understanding your shyness and making an extra effort to help you feel relaxed. After you nod he continues, “Great. We can meet right here around 3?” He questions with the small tilt of one of his eyebrows. “‘kay..” You confirm before taking a step away. “Uh.. bye now, Claggor.” You wave your hand with the small curl in your lips. He smiles back, already feeling excited for tomorrow, “See you, (name).” He waves his hand back slowly as he watches you take small and quick steps away.

The sound of the wind picking up and pressing against people’s clothes was heard while the sun shone at their eyes and faces. Claggor was one of them as he stood, holding a mechanical flower he made the night before for you. It wasn’t something exaggerating, but not something so simple either. Its pollen had bright yellow lights that lit up with the button on the handle’s connecting part to the blades of it. The blades were the color of your eyes, he messed up with the paints to capture your exact eye color in his memory.

He was came earlier than you two agreed to make sure he wouldn’t miss you, he was waiting, though impatiently honestly. He tangled with the gift in his hands, but he was careful not to mess with it with his big hands, being gentle and delicate with his touch. The smile evident on his face as he thought idly about you.

“Claggor!” The shy voice that ringed in his ears was none other than yours, your yell only audible because of the not-so crowded place. He glanced at you, his eyes softening once met with you, taking quick steps like the other day, just towards him this time. “Hey.. you look beautiful. I mean, i like your outfit.” He says as he reaches his hand towards you, allowing you to grab it with the slight pinkness on your cheeks. A murmur of a small ‘thank you’ leaves your lips before he hands you his gift. “I made this for you. I hope you like it. I wasn’t sure what would be your style, so..”

You look at in awe as you take it in your hands and start to examine it, looking delightful after noticing the small details and seeing the effort he must’ve put to it. You look up to him with a grateful smile on your lips and the pinkness on your cheeks growing almost red. “I like it, you don’t have to worry. The effort alone is enough.” He looks content with your answer and reaches his hand towards yours, you hold the mechanical flower with one hand while grabbing Claggor’s hand with the other. “That’s good to hear. Now let’s go.There are a lot of places i wanna show you.”

You two spend the next hours wandering around, Claggor showing you his favorite places or important places in Zaun, giving you information and stories about them. He also introduces you to a couple of people and encourages you to talk to them to help you make new friends. The day was filled with laughter and fun as well as close touches and quick galen’s stolen from each other every once in a while.

As the sun started to set off, Claggor brought you to a quiet rooftop above the water and you two were sitting in the almost silence while you faced each other, your gift now next to you on the ground, the only sound your breaths and the hitting of waves against the walls.

“Thank you.. I really had fun today.” Claggor smiles before responding to you. “I had fun too, maybe we could do this more… often. Since we’re, uh, friends now.” He says the last part in an almost bitter tone though he thought he was still happy to be just a friend, he looked at you with hopeful and loving eyes. “I guess that’s fun.” Yoh murmur before hesitantly and suddenly wrapping a hand around his neck, your face burning with embarrassment as you pressed your lips against his.

Claggor was shocked at the sudden pressure on his lips before one of his hands found it’s ways on your hip as the other one moved to your cheek, cradling the side of your cheek with ease. He pulled you closer while he kissed you back allowing you to sit on his lap, his lips moving against yours. He closed his eyes contently with a muffled mumble.

After a few moments, you break the kiss and pull your face away, still on his lap. “yeah.. friends.” You mumble sarcastically and he lets out a laugh before getting up with you in his arms then settling you on your feet after your initial shock at his strength to carry you easily. “It’s getting late..” He starts and bends down to grab the mechanical flower from the ground and handing it to you. “May I walk you back home, my lady?” He continues with the happy smile apparent on his lips.

“I’d love that.”

[twopoppies]

Gina, I want to tell you I have been reading your blog for a couple years now. I’ve never sent an ask to anyone. I first came into the fandom when I watched Harrychella and I thought hmm this man isn’t just flagging he is screaming at the top of his lungs. Then I watched the Cosmic Leeds videos and I fell down a rabbit hole. I am not someone who believes “conspiracy theories”. I am however old enough to know closeting has been proven to exist in the entertainment industry. I’m also from a rural area of the U.S. where homophobia is the norm, so unfortunately I had no trouble believing closeting still exists. I went into full information gathering mode about Larry Stylinson, but it was more than that too. I fell in love with 1D and all the boys’ solo work, especially Louis. I loved his voice, his songwriting, and his ‘real’ personality (when he allowed it to shine through all the media training). I read through every tumblr I could, you and Daisie provided a wealth of information that can not be ignored. I feel certain that Larry was real and I hope they are still together. I’m not one of those people who never doubted. It would be hard not to second guess things in this fandom with all the gaslighting that goes on. I write all of this to say that I’ve never felt so sad and like there is no hope for change as I do right now. It feels like Louis’ fandom is falling apart. There is so much division, hate, and intolerance of any idea that doesn’t conform to someone’s own. Louis pr strategy honestly baffles me. A divided fandom is so tiring. It seems less like pr and more like intentional sabatoge, which I guess it could be. I just don’t see any way out for him or Harry. I think Harry’s extended break is partly because of this too. I think he was overworked and emotionally drained for many reasons, but closeting most of all is exhausting. If I’m feeling this way as a fan I can’t imagine how they must be feeling. It breaks my heart. Sometimes I hope I am crazy and Larry was never real because the story is just too sad. Don’t even get me started on bbg because it is the shittiest situation ever. I think I need to take a step back from the fandom for a bit. But this brings me to my point. I’m pretty resilient, I can not be the only person feeling this way. It makes me so worried for Louis’ career and for both Louis and Harry’s mental health. I guess I don’t really have an ask. I just wanted to say thank you for all the information you have provided over the years. And, I needed to get this off my chest. If I posted this on twitter I would be roasted and I’m not strong enough for that right now. I meant it when I said I fell in love with their music, so I will continue to support all the boys. I’m hoping there is a master plan that will eventually set them free. But, I just keep coming back to the line

‘Said I had a plan for us Time had came and changed it all We had to disappear 'Cause nothing gets through here’

I will add one more thing. I believe there are more Larries than people think, but we are tired of the gaslighting and the hate, so many of us step back or hide. This is why the industry wins most of the time. 😥

Hi, sweetheart. Thank you for sharing your thoughts. I'm sorry it feels so overwhelming right now. I do think taking a step back is probably really healthy for most of us. I've actually never seen the fandom in such shambles.

I don't know what Louis' plan is in terms of his fandom or his future plans. But I have dozens and dozens of sad, confused, and angry messages in my inbox, and that fucking sucks. I really don't see a way forward at the moment. I will say, though, that some of the upset stems from some people's tendency to lean into worst-case scenarios and amplify their own worries by jumping to conclusions. Then there are the shit-stirrers who try to make things worse by sending in fake receipts or theories. It's hard to stay grounded when there's insanity whirling around you.

As for Harry and Louis, I do tend to believe they're still together. I don't think their relationship has been as easy as many of us would like to believe – I don't think it could be, given their ages when they met and the conditions they've had to live with. I do think they're soulmates... soulmates don't always end up together, but I tend to think these two will make it. I certainly hope they do.

Our fandom never does well when the boys aren't active. I think if you want to get your sanity back, now is as good a time as any.

[spanishskulduggery]

Hi! Native Spanish speaker here

Could u explain the difference between Chilean/ Uruguayan-Argentinian Spanish?

I have amigos gringos y estaria bueno explicarles.

Me di cuenta que sabes español así que puedo pedírtelo asi jajaja

Muchas gracias! 🫶🏻

Saludos desde Uruguay 🇺🇾

I'm not even sure where to start, the accent itself is so different even though Chile is very close to everything else

I'm going to list some differences in no particular order as they come to me

-

I think it's because Chilean is a bit of an outlier compared to what they call rioplatense Spanish... like there are similar trends, but it's pronounced differently

The main grammatical difference I've found is that Argentina uses vos for everything - more than tú, more than usted... it's a lot of vos

[Historically a singular vos was quite fancy and the way you addressed nobility and people very politely; the common term of address Vuestra Merced turned into Usted over time. In Spain, vosotros is now plural and informal. But depending on the time period, vos still shows up in historical dramas and fairy tales or things set in medieval times like fantasy. It's my understanding that multiple languages have something similar....... in English, our informal "you" was "thou" tú and "you" was formal, but then "thou" became obsolete]

The voseo in most of South America is usually understood as more intimate and friendly than tú

The big exceptions to this are Argentina and Chile

In Argentina, again, vos is the de facto 2nd person singular pronoun [I believe plural is still ustedes "you all"]

In Chile, vos has a different meaning from what I've been told. It's not vulgar but it's kind of impolite. If you're addressing someone as vos in Chile it can read as "dude" or "bro" almost, it's very familiar and not how you'd want to address someone from the older generations

While Argentina uses vos for everything, Chile uses vos for close friendships or where informality won't cause offense

The other main issue is the conjugation of vos

The majority of South America (including Argentina) conjugate vos like the vosotros form just without the I

...Like vosotros sois "you all are" in Spain then turns to vos sos "you are" in South America; they keep the S, but omit the I

Chilean voseo usually takes that vosotros form but omits the S sound and leaves the I

And so you get something like vosotros habláis "you all speak" turning to vos hablái in Chile [while it would be hablás in Argentina or the rest of Río de la Plata]

The verb that always trips you up with Chile is going to be ser because there are two forms; vos soi but I've more commonly heard vos eri(s)... like I've heard Chilean eri puro blabla which is "you're all talk" but literally "you're all blah blah"

The other one that's a little weird is ir just because of how vosotros normally works

In Spain vosotros id "go" as a command, ve for tú, but then vas for regular rioplatense commands, and then Chile says vai which is like if you tried to say ve but had your mouth way open

Chile (specifically those from lower income backgrounds) tend to omit the S more than most, while the higher income backgrounds or those trying to sound more posh tend to pronounce things more fully

The very informal aspects of Chilean Spanish are associated with the working class, which is probably why it's considered impolite (or maybe uneducated is the better word? it's a class distinction) to use those kinds of pronunciations and vos but it does depend on the area

...

The other weird thing about Chilean Spanish, which is sometimes common in rioplatense Spanish outside of Argentina, is that sometimes people use vos forms with tú as a pronoun

You might see tú eres or tú eri... or tú vas or tú vai

-

And I don't know if it's a thing in Argentina but I see Chilean Spanish sometimes using double reflexive pronouns. I think the common example is that Chilean Spanish might say me voy a irme, where you would typically say/read me voy a ir or voy a irme

Sometimes translations write it a bit differently to imply it's a different and more informal or regional way of saying it; so I've seen me voy a irme get translated as "I'mma head out" or "I'm gonna go" - it's not a 1:1 translation but it does portray that it isn't technically considered "correct" but is understandable

-

The common expression that I had to learn to sort of make sense of it was Chile's ¿Cachai? which is "Got it?" or "Understand?" which is from cachar (in Latin America it's like "to catch" like, "Did you catch that?" both in physical grabbing and understanding, but it's less common outside of Latin America) - it can be used as a filler word, but it is literally like "right?" or "got it?" or "you know what I mean?"

The only other expression I know for Chilean Spanish is qué fome which is "how boring" - I think they still use that

There's more of a generational and class divide in Chile as far as Spanish expressions

In general though, Argentina's accent (and rioplatense in general?) sort of sounds Italian. The Chilean accent is... very hard to understand, there's a lot of unique grammar and the accent is like Italian but more rural to my ears, not in a bad way but to me it sounds like if you were speaking Spanish with a southern drawl almost

...

As far as general vocab, I think Argentina and Chile agree on a lot of the regional words like the word for "car" is el auto which is probably from many German immigrants, they use extrañar for "to miss someone" like most of Latin America

But I do know the one that trips me up constantly is "computer". Spain says el ordenador. Most of Latin America says la computadora. Chile says el computador

Some typical words you should maybe know for Chile:

fome = boring

guagua = baby [from Quechua, I think it's the sound of a baby crying; Caribbean countries sometimes use la guagua for "bus"]

pololo/a = boyfriend, girlfriend

el computador = computer

¿Cachai? = Got it? / Right? / Understand?

el cahuín = gossip [I think it originally meant "party/assembly" for the indigenous people, sort of like in American English you might hear "pow-wow"; but cahuín is when you get together and gossip, so it can also mean "shady business" or "intrigue" or "something sketchy"]

po = (generally means something affirmative; it comes from pues but po is used so often it's like "yup" or "uh huh" or "of course" but can show up at the end of practically any sentence)

hacer perro muerto = "to dine and dash", to eat at a restaurant without paying [lit. "to do a dead dog", the rest of Spanish tends to use hacer un simpá which is from sin pagar "without paying"]

weón / weona = dumbass / dude [informal way to address someone - sometimes an insult sometimes not, kind of impolite, comes from huevón "dumbass", again means "big balls" I think since it's "big egg" and los huevos are slang for testicles]

la wea = thing [it's really comparable to how some countries say la vaina for "thing" - it's informal, it's everywhere, and for some reason it sounds almost rude if you didn't know better]

...

And I know I said it already, but po. No, but seriously po is so Chilean I cannot stress this enough it's just an all around affirmative - I don't know if you can use po wrong, it just shows up at the end of sentences

Also I don't know if Argentina says it but I'm pretty sure Chile uses bacán as "cool" - if I remember right Argentina uses chévere

I think it's common in most of Spanish now, but particularly Argentina/Chile and rioplatense Spanish are known for using chao/chau as "goodbye" since it comes from Italian ciao; this is as opposed to something more formal like adiós or more Anglicized "bye"

Every so often you will hear tschuss or something equivalent in Argentina which is from German as well

Chile tends to share a lot of regionalisms with Peru and Colombia and generally it's like countries that are in the Andes or were connected to the Inca Empire or some of the indigenous tribes

Argentinian Spanish you should maybe know:

che = hey / bro (a go-to word like "hey"... it's a bit like the Chilean po but it usually calls attention to something or it's affirmative; can also be "bro/dude")

el pibe = boy la piba = girl

la mina = chick (usually a girl/woman you don't know the name of; it's not polite but it's not mean)

boludo/a = bro / dumbass, idiot [it can be an insult "has big balls", but it can also just be like... "bro" or "dude"]

And if I remember right the slang term for money here is la plata which is literally "silver"

The main thing about Argentina people talk about is the accent particularly with how they pronounce LL

Spain tends to pronounce LL as if it were LY with a bit of an L sound in there still... Latin America sometimes pronounces it like a full Y/I sound... parts of Central America give it a hard J sound

Argentina gives it a SH sound; so llamar or lluvia can sound like "shamar" or "shuvia" in Argentina

...

Also I think in Argentina you hear la remera for "t-shirt" [lit. "rowing shirt", from el remo "oar" or remar "to row" but sometimes remo "oar" can be "limb" on your body], and Chile says la polera which I think is from "polo shirt"

General Spanish will say la camiseta which is the diminutive of la camisa "shirt/chemise"; in textbooks they typically say la camisa is a "shirt with long sleeves" or a "dress shirt", and la camiseta is "a t-shirt" or informal shirt

And I'm not sure if they both say this, but it's my understanding that they use la frutilla for "strawberry" in rioplatense Spanish; usually it's la fresa

Mexico does this too if I remember right, although for them la fresa means "posh" or "snobby" like it's slang for a rich person or someone who acts fancy. I'm not sure if it also means that in Argentina and Chile

There are also different linguistic quirks of Argentina like lunfardo [regional Italian-inspired words, specifically from Lombardy], or vesre which is... I don't know I'd call it closer to Cockney where words are played with or backwards [revés "backwards/reverse" -> vesre]; like la mujer "woman" is sometimes jermu which is the same word just the syllables are backwards

...

And Chilean Spanish has been called the Quebecois of Spanish; similar enough but also very different and more irreverent in other ways... though to me I find it's probably closer to how English-speakers see Australian English, a little hard to follow sometimes and the accents are very much class-based, where there's a way to sound posh and a way to sound distinctively not posh

Argentina is more like if you had an Italian person speaking Spanish then sprinkled in a bit of German, lots of rising and falling tones, almost lyrical, sometimes like someone is speaking in very fast accent marks (both Spanish and Italian accent marks á then à, just so many rising and falling tones)

[wombywoo]

i know you have probably been asked this so many times — but what brushes do you typically use? any helpful videos i can reference to get portraits and overall realism sketching down, maybe ones that you used starting out? or just.. tips overall?

artists like you and m0cktails really inspire me to try and pursue a different route with my art, one that was totally unexpected but pleasantly rewarding when i tried it out!!! you have a great eye for features and overall composition of a piece, i started being a fan due to your ghostsoap art but i honestly think ive started to like seeing your OCs too haha

please don’t feel pressured to answer i know i kind of asked a lot!!

Hey there! I've briefly reviewed some of the brushes I use in some posts here and here! For the most part, I stick to one standard brush, as well as the airbrush and some other 'effect' brushes as I need them. I'm a photoshop devotee, unfortunately 😔, so a lot of my process is futzing around with their admittedly stellar editing tools

Truthfully, I don't have any concrete tips or videos for this sort of thing. I started out as a pencil artist, doing more and more realistic portraits the better I got, and then eventually turned to digital art (a bit reluctantly) So a lot of that was just self-taught; finding my own way how to implement certain techniques, and amassing a foundation that would allow me to draw all the stuff in my brain, lol

As for advice--I'd say to learn how to evolve out of your comfort zone. It's good to know what type of style or subject matter you feel you're best at--this is a natural inclination most artists have, and it informs the pieces your mind wants to create. But try pushing the limits of what you think might be 'too tedious' or 'too advanced'. More often than not, the thing holding your art back is that gut instinct of 'I can't do this, so why bother trying'. I used to feel this way about hands (enemy of the state, confirmed) And yeah, the easy cop-out is to just shove them all in pockets or behind backs etc. But in learning how to overcome that obvious challenge, I grew to really appreciate the way a hand can shape a composition. In fact, I have to hand it to--💥 ✋

Anyway! My next bit of 'advice' would be to go absolutely bonkers nuts with references. Don't listen to any fraud or fool who says using references is cheating !!!!! They lie!!!!! I swear, my art only looks the way it does because I am a reference hound who spends hours and hours on google/pinterest/stock sites for the perfect angle of the perfect pose, just so I can relate it to the image I have in my head.

For realism--look at real stuff! This sounds dumb, but it helps. Start paying closer attention to people around you; their faces, the way the light accents certain things, unique features, etc. I'd suggest figure studies if that's something you're into (I don't do studies, personally, because I just jump into massive pieces and can't do anything simple 😅 welp) but it does help immensely to study humans in real life and try to translate that onto the page

So yeah. Tbh, the best method for improving art is to simply DO IT. And the fact that you're seeking out further advice and tips means that you have some motivation--so use it! Hope this helps <3

[ylangelegy]

my lovely !!!! congrats on 1 million followers 💝🎉✨ although u deserve a billion 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ i’m here to submit a📱 bc i’m dying to hear some more about ‘blindsided’ pls 🤲

char, my light, my love! u make this godforsaken site worth it and i love u oh so dearly ୨ৎ i am forever a u/pochaccoups fan 🙂‍↕️

📱 office worker!wonwoo x reader, based on blindsided (fic + text imagines). part of my follower milestone celebration. mdni, 18+ content.

Wonwoo has fucked you in every imaginable corner of your office.

He knows he should probably be guilty. He’s a model employee, after all. Perfect performance evaluations and all that. 

But he just can’t bring himself to care, not when he’s got you bent over the copy machine after hours. He doesn’t think of ethics or rules when he’s eating you out in one of the bathroom stalls or when the two of you steal away to the supply closet for a quickie.  

He’s certainly not thinking of it now as the two of you christen his new office room. 

Graduating from a cubicle was no small feat. At least that’s what you sweetly told him before sinking to your knees and unbuckling his belt. Wonwoo has a fistful of your hair in one hand while the other clutches the corner of his desk, white-knuckled in its grip. 

He hasn’t had this room for more than two days and he’s already risking it all for some head. Maybe he should— 

The tip of his cock hits the back of your throat, and whatever he was thinking of doing is as good as gone. 

“Fuck,” he huffs, his fingers tightening around the strands of your hair. “You’re— ah— going to get me in trouble.” 

You hum in response, unrepentant in your debauchery. You merely continue to suck him off like your life depends on it. The only thing Wonwoo can do is keep an eye on the door and hope, pray, that nobody needs him for the next ten minutes or so. 

When Wonwoo’s gaze flicks to you underneath his desk, he’s done for.

Maybe it’s the tears edging at your lashes, the way you’re trying so hard to take in every inch of him in your mouth. Maybe it’s how you look underneath his grasp, how you’re pliant and perfect and on your goddamn knees. 

Maybe he’s always just been weak for you. There’s that, too. 

Either way, Wonwoo finishes with a strangled groan. His hand that had been clutching the desk goes to cover his mouth in a futile attempt to bite back the sound. You lap up every drop of his seed in the way that drives him absolutely crazy, the way that makes him want to shoot his cum down your throat for days on end. 

His chest heaves as you shuffle out from underneath the desk, a coy grin tugging at your lips. You throw a quick glance at the door before draping yourself across Wonwoo’s lap, your skirt riding up as you bracket yourself across his thighs. 

Wonwoo’s hands instinctively find purchase at your waist. He lets out a low hiss when he feels just how wet you are, the evidence of your arousal seeping through your underwear and on to his pant leg. 

“Can’t do this,” he breathes out, his denial weak in the way his fingers slide up your blouse. “We have to stop.” 

He’s given you this bullshit excuse enough times that you know he doesn’t really mean it. A part of him does this time, he likes to think, and you must know that, too, because you lean forward until your chests are pressed together.

“Don’t worry.” You give a playful nip at his earlobe. “I’ll be gone in two weeks.” 

“What?” he sputters, his eyes widening behind his glasses. 

He tries to gently pull you away from him, but you don’t budge. Your head instead falls into the crook of his neck as you giggle breathlessly. 

“Got poached. Same position as yours,” you inform him. “Our company’s non-compete clause is pretty shitty, so I think I’m going to get away with it.” 

On one hand, Wonwoo is grateful. Your move would solve a number of issues, from conflict of interest to his never-ending war with morality. And— maybe, just maybe— he could graduate from friends with benefits to something more. Something real. 

But it also meant— 

Your teeth scraping his pulse point drags him out of his thoughts. Wonwoo’s grip on you tightens. You and your stupid habit of leaving marks right before ruining him. 

“What do you say, Jeon?” you tease. “One more for the road, yeah?” 

[taniahylian]

Ms. Grace: a Foundation spy

Okay, buckle up because this is a wild theory, which was sparked by just a single word, but it's backed up by a lot of facts, so let's dive into it, shall we?

First of, left's look at the description of an event that will become available next patch: Phototaxis in study.

You see it, don't you? Now, let's first remember that we, as the player, see everything through Vertin's eyes. As such, if someone named "Moth" sent intel to us, they're likely affiliated with the Foundation in one way or another.

Moth is likely a codename, however, and not the character's actual name. Why? Because we have already seen a character associated with moths, and her name is Ms. Grace, and she's a spy.

Quite a lot of moths in her design, right? Seems rather intentional. Not to mention that, when she's disguised as Kayla, the only difference between them, aside from the eye color, is that Grace has a moth pattern on her bandana.

Not to mention that, when Vertin encounters Grace for the first time, an odd detail is mentioned; a white moth landing on the flowers Grace was holding.

Okay, so we've stablished that Grace is heavily associated with moths, but how do we know she's a Foundation spy that infiltrated Manus Vindictae? Very simple; a trail found in this event.

First we see this report from Andreas Sylvester who, if you remember, is a low-ranking Zeno soldier that was left behind at the abandoned Texas facility. As such, he is unlikely to be privy to classified information and, although he does in fact seem to know that Grace is a spy, he came to the rather logical conclusion that she's a Manus Vindictae spy that was sent to report to them about Zeno's activity in Texas. However, Constantine's response is very suspicious.

She recommends him to not interfere with Ms. Grace's work, likely because she knows Grace is actually a Foundation spy, carrying out her orders, rather than an actual Manus member.

Also, if Ms. Grace is a spy, that would explain why she was using transformation rituals; she needed to change her appearence into someone the Manus would have no knowledge of (since she's likely a high-ranking Investigator, the Manus probably already knew her original appearence), so she picked a random country girl (Kayla) to change into her, and ended up accidentally trapping her in a mirror in the process... or perhaps it wasn't accidental at all; after all, it'd be very bad if the Manus ever met the real Kayla.

Let's also not forget that, according to Vertin, the Foundation teaches this particular transformation array to their SPDM students, which furthers the connection even more.

There's also what happens at the end of Anjo Nala's trailer. If you need a refresher, after the Manus members give Anjo order after order, she snaps and kills them... but here's the thing: Anjo physically can't disobey the commands given to her by the seal, and she also can't even touch her master, much less harm them. So how could she kill the Manus members? ... Unless she was ordered to.

And who was holding Anjo's seal during that scene?

Ms. Grace, of course. She's also the one who says the final line in the trailer, in the format of some sort of report: "Towards the end of 1990, the succubus left for Sao Paulo". And we know for a fact that, indeed, Anjo followed their orders and ended up going to Sao Paulo.

So, Ms. Grace isn't dead; she's the only survivor of that massacre and, if my theory is correct, she's also the orchestrator. She used Kimberly to kill these high-ranking manus, while at the same time not blowing her cover, and making Kimberly seem unstable/unreliable, so the Manus would probably want to get rid of the seal. Quite a smart move, if you ask me.

But what do you think? Too crazy? Honestly I can't wait for the big reveal that Grace was working for the Foundation all along, if it happens at any point in the future.