#simply because it had happened so many times before

[softtdaisy]

a better father / Aaron Hotchner

summary. All Hotch wanted was to get a second chance to be a better dad. And now that you were offering him this chance, he fears he might have failed already.

words count. 2,465

a/n.  I got this idea with the episode from season two when Haley comes and she tells Hotch that he forgot about an appointment for Jack and I was like omg I need to do something with that so here's sad Aaron again

Being an FBI agent and a dad was sometimes hard to combine. Hotch knew something about that. 

He had a lot of regrets about Jack. Not being there much when he was a baby, not seeing his first steps, hearing his first word, and missing so many memories that were nicely caught on camera by Haley. Things he could never make up for.

And no matter how often Jack could tell him that he didn’t hold any grudge against his dad, Hotch still felt bad most of the time. Wishing he could get a second chance to be a better dad. 

At some point, he accepted that it would never happen. He was getting older, and the morality wanted him to date women close to his age. Which wasn’t a bad thing at all. He had wonderful dates with them. But none of them wanted to have a child. Some already had one, some never wanted to get pregnant, and some simply couldn’t. And of course it was never a cause of a breakup—or stop seeing them, because Hotch didn’t date most of them. Hotch simply accepted he won’t be a dad again. 

Then he met you.

You were an old friend of JJ's that he met at her birthday. Your work made you travel around the world for many years, which explained your absence during the past parties and you being unknown to most of the team. But you were back in town, ready to meet new people and start a new life.

Hotch never believed in fate.

But he was sure he was destined to meet you.

You were so full of life, acting like a ray of sunshine in every room you were in. And not that he considered himself dark, but he had to admit that his life and job had quite an impact on how he perceived himself. As someone who wasn’t very funny or joyful to be around. Not a very good dad or a nice partner. And sometimes, not even a great boss.

His life was pretty much in black and white. And when you came around, you brought colors with you.

It started that very first night, when you spent almost an hour sitting outside with Aaron. Drinking and watching the stars.

“Shouldn’t you be with JJ?” He asked after you finished a conversation about your favorite countries to visit and the one you recommended for someone like him.

“Don’t know,” you replied, shrugging. “I like being with you.”

Aaron could blame the alcohol for the redness on his cheeks, but you both knew it was insecurity and flattering. It’s been a long time since someone pointed out how they liked spending time with him. He felt…alive, knowing that you wanted to be around him.

And you weren’t lying for a single second. “You’re an interesting man, Aaron Hotchner. You need to let people see that.” you added, giving him a little shoulder bump. You kept your shoulder against his for a second. You loved the little smile your words created and the sparks that appeared in his eyes.

You felt lucky that you were one of the few people he offered a glimpse of the real him.

It started with coffee dates once a week. Before he went to work, and while you were still discovering your new life back in town, you met at the same coffee shop for an hour. You talked about everything, more life than work. You wanted to see Aaron, and not Hotch, the man JJ told you about. 

Even if she gave you such a good description of him that you were already willing to give him your heart without any hesitation.

You loved discovering new things about him every week. 

Each smile was breaking the wall around him.

Each time he put his hand on yours was him installing himself in your life.

And each kiss was you giving your heart to each other. 

These coffee dates were still a thing.

They just happened every day, at the place you were now sharing together.

And not only did you give him a lot of things already, you offered him the chance he thought wouldn’t come again, which he sadly accepted. 

To be a dad again.

You were four months pregnant, and it wasn’t always as easy as it seemed. Either the stress that comes from work or the fact Aaron still felt like he was too old for this, for you. But he was trying his best to make things as perfect as they could be. He was leaving the BAU earlier than before, and every day off was for Jack and for you. 

And every night, he made sure to have at least half an hour with you in the baby’s room to talk about the future.

But sometimes, dealing with both situations can be difficult. And today was another proof.

What was supposed to be a calm office day turned out to be more rough and animated. A new case came in the morning and turned out to be in town. 

Hotch was part of the team that went out to catch the unsub. He was going less on the field these days. There was a selfish reason behind that: he didn’t want to stress you or miss anything important with the baby. But the case being in Virginia, he took the opportunity to follow Spencer and Emily outside while JJ stayed with Penelope, like the good old days.

“God, I wish every case were as simple as this one.” Emily said when they came back to the car, the unsub was with the police officers. And Hotch had to admit it was pretty easy this time. He couldn’t wait to tell you about this one, how good it felt to be back there.

He could already hear you say something like, “We’ll tell our baby how their dad is a superhero,” which reminded him of when Jack used to see him like that. He hoped your baby would feel the same about him.

What if they hated him? What if they blame him for being away, for not doing enough? What if someone terrible happened to them because of his job?

Most of the time, Hotch managed to put these bad ideas away. And when he couldn’t, he found comfort in your arms. That’s what he needed right now.

He only had one thing to do: check on JJ and Penelope once he was back at the office to conclude his report and make sure everybody could go back home soon. Him included.

When Hotch entered Penelope’s office, he was welcomed by her confused and surprised face. “Sir? What are you doing here?” she asked. She got up and took a few steps towards him to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating.

“What do you mean what am I doing here?” he asked, even more confused than her. 

And the confusion just kept growing when he looked around and noticed Penelope was alone. “Where is JJ?” 

“Hmm, at the hospital?” From her tone, Hotch could tell that Penelope assumed he was supposed to know about her absence and the reason behind it. “[Y/N] called her?” This wasn’t a real question, because Penelope was there when you called. She heard you. But she couldn’t understand why she would know about that before Hotch.

And he couldn’t believe what he just heard. Sure, it made sense that you would call JJ if you needed help. She was one of your emergency contacts. But why wouldn’t you call him? 

Looking for his phone to check on you, Hotch realized his mistake.

He forgot his phone at his office. And spend the whole day assuming you were fine.

Before Penelope could explain the situation, or maybe she did, but he didn’t listen, Hotch ran to his office. He probably jostled some people in the rush, and there was a high possibility that he forgot to apologize. But it wasn’t his priority. Especially not when he grabbed his phone and saw the notification.

Six missing calls.

Around ten texts.

All from you.

You’ve got awful cramps when you wake up, and nothing would make them go away. You spent most of your day in bed, crying—which you didn’t tell Aaron, but he could hear the tears in your voice in one of your voicemails. You were asking him to come and bring you to the hospital to make sure the baby was doing fine.

But he never answered.

“I called JJ; she’s coming. Please don’t worry and text me when you see this. I love you,” said the last one.

When he dialed your phone, Hotch met your answering machine. 

He kept trying during the drive to the hospital. But all he could hear was your joyful voice asking to leave a message and that you would call back later. 

Never has Aaron needed to hear your voice so badly as right now.

The hospital wasn’t too far away from the bureau. Which didn’t prevent him from driving way above the limits. Not that he cared this time. 

Even if Aaron had prepared his speech in the car to appear calm, he lost his words right when he made his first step in the hospital. Being there was scary. Hopefully, when he arrived, the first person he saw was JJ. He rushed to her, almost scaring her from the way he grabbed her arm.

“Where is she? How is she? And the baby?” 

“Slow down, breathe for a second,” she replied, putting a hand on top of his to try and reassure him. “She is fine. And the baby too.”

The seven words that he needed to hear the most.

“I was supposed to bring her home, but she’ll be happy to have you.” JJ added with a sweet smile. If someone could understand Aaron’s position here, it was her.

Once she indicated to him the room you were staying in and he introduced himself to the nurse, Aaron rushed to meet you.

He was relieved to see you, for real. Sitting on the bed with your eyes closed. He took a second to look at you. Aaron hated that feeling in his stomach. He didn’t realize that until now, there was a quiet thought in his head saying that maybe he wouldn’t see you again. 

But you were there, looking better than he imagined you would. 

And when you opened your eyes and saw the man you love in front of you, you lit up the whole room with your eyes. “Aaron, you’re here!”

“Of course, I am,” he sighed, with a tired smile. He finally walked up to you and accepted the arms you were opening for him. It’s been a long time since a hug had felt this good for him. He let it go for a few seconds, closing his eyes and enjoying the feeling of having you close to him like that. He imagined you were home, in your bed, on a Sunday morning. Not at the hospital. 

Then everything hit him back. You, being sick and pregnant. Him, not being here for you.

Aaron kissed your forehead before cupping your face with his hands. “What happened?”

“The doctor said it wasn’t serious. Sometimes you get cramped and sick during the second semester. Basically, the baby is telling me to relax and stop overworking.” You replied with a soft laugh that wasn’t effective enough to stop him from frowning. “Love, we are both fine.”

“But I wasn’t there.” 

It hurt you how his voice sounded so sad. 

You heard Aaron speaking when he was physically hurt. And you already hated the way he would contain the pain by gritting his teeth, making his voice sound deeper and heavier. You always thought he was blaming himself for not being careful enough, which explained the tone.

But this time it was different. Aaron sounded like he hated himself for what he thought was a disappointment for you. But for him, mostly. His voice was broken, almost unintelligible. Like he didn’t want to be heard. And deep down, even if it was a part of his life you’d barely ever talked about, you knew where this was coming from.

"Aaron," you said softly, asking him to focus on you and not his pain. "I'm good. We're good.”

When he finally looked up to you, you met his red eyes. “These moments, they’ll happen again, you know.” 

He let out a sad sigh. “That’s not what I want.”

“I know, but you can’t blame yourself for that. This is your job. And we all accept it,” you said. You took one of his hands to put on your rounded belly. “She does too.”

Aaron opened his mouth to reply and argue on how this wasn’t the family dynamic he wanted for his second child. Not again. 

But no sound left his mouth. Which made you smile. This was exactly the reaction you expected from your so serious and composed boyfriend.

“She?” he finally replied, this time the glow in his eyes being replaced by happiness and surprise.

“The doctor did an ultrasound to make sure everything was alright. And this little princess inside finally decided to stop the mystery around herself.” You explained, but it would be a miracle if Aaron even heard you. You couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction: his mouth open, his eyes going from yours to your belly like he was trying to comprehend what you said. “We’re having a baby girl, Aaron.” This time, you couldn’t contain your own tears.

This was all Aaron needed to put all his stress behind. He couldn’t think about his job and everything that came with it when now he knew that in a few months, he would hold in his arms the miracle he couldn’t wish for anymore. A daughter that will be the result of the love he had for you. A daughter that he will love as much as he loves you. As much as he loves Jack.

Even if he still couldn’t speak, you could tell he was as excited as you by the situation. But there was still one thing that was waiting to be clarified.

“And wanna know the best part?” you asked, slowly caressing your cheek. “She’ll be the biggest daddy’s girl and will always love you. When you’re home, at work, or away. You’ll hold a special place in her heart, forever, Aaron Hotchner.” 

Being an FBI agent and a dad was sometimes hard to combine. But Aaron knew that he was fighting alone to find the perfect balance between both. 

He had you. And a perfect family to make sure he was a great man and a great father.

[mortallyfuzzytyrant]

Expanding on being Olrox's best friend.

My genuine belief is this friendship would form on mutual respect. It's clear Olrox is someone who doesn't take his true loyalties lightly. And he is beyond tired of people who are power hungry or buy into group mentalities.

I believe you would have met Olrox during a time of hardship for yourself. You being a humble individual who merely wanted to exist. Though, of course, the world wouldn't make such a thing so simple.

Olrox has basically spent his entire life forming alliances to get by. He found you trapped as an abstract entity being used by vampires. He found it distasteful but didn't do a thing at first.

Discovering you had a consciousness was a point of intrigue for him. You could think and feel. Hearing you speak wasn't surprising but amused him nonetheless.

You two held conversations now and again. It became obvious to you that Olrox merely sought out for himself and couldn't care less about the ambitions of the vampires that held you. You decided quite quickly you liked him.

He quipped about your abusers and boasted about his lover. Admittedly, it rubbed you the wrong way he sat by as you were made into a toy. But this man was the closest thing to what it was like to be treated like a person, so you clung to your brief interactions.

Plus, he was funny. At least you were getting something out of this. Olrox was keeping you sane.

You within an inch of your mental capacity each day. You were in pain and long past tolerant of others.

You were aware of what happened to Olrox's lover. You have no idea why he told you. He did it so matter of factly.

The way he always smirked when talking to you was replaced with a bitter scowl. His demeanor was a far cry from how playful and snarky he was before.

Instinctively, you offered your wish for his peace with the matter. You even complimented his lover. You saw him briefly. You were....more perceptive than average, let's put it that way.

Olrox's expression was unreadable but it was clear he absorbed your words.

Olrox had been put in charge of commanding you at some point. You spent more time together. Your being was still confined but your consciousness good stretch for eons.

You didn't mind Olrox commanding you. He was far kinder and just did what was necessary. Perhaps he wasn't exactly overly familiar. But he treated you as something akin to a lieutenant. Rather than a dog.

You formed a habit of calling him "master".

He never said anything. But somehow you could tell it bothered him. You thought it was because he wasn't fond enough of you to even consider you a servant. Still. You were attached and refused to stop.

One day you were pushed too far by the vampires that kept you. You were in agony.

After they left, you begged Olrox to set you free. You called him master like you always did. His green eyes pierced into you. You must've looked absolutely pathetic. Even without a face or body.

Something about the way he stood there enraged you. And the next time the other vampires came to make use of you, you did away with them all. Many more came to attack but your blind rage stopped them.

Olrox's smile as he watched you was irritating.

As much as you liked the guy, you were beyond tired of being viewed as a pass time. You aimed for him. And funnily enough, you did your fair share of damage.

Olrox got close enough to your prison. Imagine your surprise when he released you.

"You almost killed me." The laugh in his voice was baffling.

You had a better chance of doing that now that you were free. You didn't find it worth being impressed over. At least, not from his perspective.

You blinked as he simply turned to walk away.

Odd as it was, you instinctively thanked your master. Your previous rage was dwarfed by your confusion at Olrox's contradictory actions. All you could muster in your daze was gratitude.

Olrox replied with saying he had no idea who you were referring to.

You blinked.

"You're smart enough to slaughter a group of fools beholden to their delusions of grandeur. And another who stood by even as your screams carried over the ocean." Olrox smirks. "I think you're long past that."

You blinked. Smart, he says.

Olrox shrugged at your confusion. "You choose now of all nights to end them. Or us. I suppose I'm included in that. You've been watching the moon, haven't you? Being free now...Why, I don't think the night has ever been so beautiful. Wouldn't you agree?"

You were baffled at what he was implying. You insisted on calling him master.

He tutted your fixation on that.

"That's what no one ever told you. You don't need masters."

You gaped.

He smiled. "You figured that out all on your own. Everyone here is dead. You made an attempt on my life for my inaction. In what world does someone like that need anyone?"

You went quiet. Olrox was going to leave. You watched him go.

"You may follow me. If you wish." Olrox said without turning or stopping.

Your breath hitched at him reading your desires so easily.

"On one condition."

You bristled. Of course no one ever offered company without a catch-

"Never call me 'master' again." Olrox frowned pointedly at you.

You gaped. An odd request. But...You found yourself silently agreeing, following quickly.

Olrox smiles. A lot softer than you were used to. "I would like to see an actual form in front of me."

You blinked. Was that his way of...encouraging you?

You flushed, solidifying yourself the moment you were outside.

Olrox hummed. "Imagine hiding something this captivating. You're foolish about the strangest things."

You felt you should have been offended. But tears found their way to you. As shrewd as he put it, he undoubtedly called you beautiful.

You two knew each other for centuries and now you were attached to the hip in the open world. You were there for the murder of Julia. Olrox thanked you greatly for assisting in tracking her down but told you to stay out of the fight. You kept to the shadows and proudly watched your beloved friend triumph.

Richter was hardly conscious of everything around him. He froze at Olrox kneeling before him. Your presence felt more like a dream rather than what he was actually seeing. He wasn't sure he had actually seen another vampire there. It was intentional on your part, you hadn't wanted to give Olrox trouble and used your abilities the moment you spotted Julia. Your eyes have haunted Richter's nightmares for years. Though he is unable to tell if it was Olrox's or not. He doesn't remember you.

Mentioned this before, but Olrox allows you to hang onto him.

It's incredibly common place for you to rush to Olrox and put your hands on his chest and lean on him.

He responds with a hand on the small of your back. He'll fully embrace you if you've been separated during battle.

He will full on guard you with his body if it is needed. Though, it's rare. You are a strong vampire.

Full disclosure if he despises someone that flirts with you. Massive protective brother energy.

"Cunts need washings before they speak."

"Olrox!"

Olrox and you use endearments on one another. "Love" and "darling" are the most prominent. But pick your poison of birds, flowers or gems you compare each other to.

You were not amused by Olrox targeting Mizrak. Out of all the men he chose to ove on" with, a hypocritical human of the cloth wasn't in your pickings of the list. You saw Olrox running into his bad habits with him. It worried you.

You had a distaste for Mizrak from the start. It was sealed when he barked at Olrox.

You hissed. "Small mutts shouldn't bark so loud."

Olrox couldn't find it in himself to listen at first. It had been a while, but you knew he was still grieving.

You stayed by his side to offer support but you were waiting for him to throw the whole man out.

You whimpered and touched Olrox's forehead after what Drolta did to him.

"Olrox, love, your pretty little head is hidden."

You were enraged but simply allowed Olrox to take a breath and hold your hand while offering a soft kiss.

It's actually funny how much you have a "you can do better" attitude regarding Mizrak.

To a point Olrox has tickled you with a feather when you go on too long.

Thankfully, your intervention wore Olrox down and he was thinking far more clearly.

Either you healed Mizrak or let him die peacefully.

Regardless, he was weighing down your best friend over your dead blood sucking body. Watching Olrox chose immortality for someone a second time wasn't something you were going to allow.

I feel like being Olrox's best friend would be so nice. Olrox having all that love and trust in you to keep you close and being able to vulnerable. Olrox is the type of friend that you would be attached to the hip with at all times and would be so gentle and caring. Especially considering it's clear Olrox's orbit is scarce due to his past and how he feels about people in general. So his best friend is someone he'd be incredibly protective of and would cherish.

Olrox and his best friend would have tons of witty banter that both pokes fun at the other while also remaining wholesome and affectionate. Though the ones directed at others is ruthless and cutting. Olrox is for sure that friend you sit by and judge others with. You two have this telepathic connection (either literal or metaphorical) where you don't even need to look at each other and you just- react the same way to situations and people's stupidity, both facial expressions and body language. You two are menaces when it comes to being in other's presence. Regardless if it's holding a conversation or being in combat.

Olrox has gently tutted you to behave yourself on rare occasions but you can tell by his grin that he was absolutely encouraging your mischief. He even whispers his own quip in your ear every now and then, adoring when you giggle in response. You two are the biggest gossip buddies in private, making each other howl with laughter discussing what you think about recent events or the people you've ran into. Olrox would be helping you either bathe, do your hair, or simply sharing the bed with you all the while.

Olrox's voice is noticeably softer and thinner with you. Olrox keeps you close by having a gentle hand on your shoulder, waist, or having you cling to his arm. Olrox will often pull you to him and kiss your temple. Or on the side of your cheek. Either as a simple gesture of affection or giving you a swift goodbye in the rare times you two have to separate. Olrox will also hold you to his chest if you're hurting. Olrox seems harsh but for you he actively practices the utmost tenderness when comforting you.

Goodness forbid someone else caused your distress. Olrox will be absolutely feral if anyone dares cause you harm. You are his dear friend and he cherishes your spot in his life. He'll be damned if he lets someone disrupt that, even in the smallest ways.

[fernpetals]

Precious

An extension of THIS ask

More of Yandere John Wick and his dollification-kink

Warning: Stalking, manipulation, hints of infantilization, implied restraining, NSFW, John is soft but dark, tracking,dollification(obviously), a hint of corruption kink

Credit to the GIF owner.

Unedited Piece.

I kind of lost myself with this one. Note that the reader does not understand Russian in this one. So if any of my readers do, I apologise.

Precious. That is what you are to John. He sees you as precious and fragile. Especially if you are a civilian working a regular job. That is the most unfortunate of circumstances for you. Canon John is protective as such. Imagine yandere John—he is paranoid that something or someone is going to hurt you. There is a tracker somewhere in your car, and you are never going to find out. And your phone? He has the right connections—people who have your phone bugged for him.

And most probably, all this happens even before he is ‘officially’ your boyfriend. In his eyes, the proposal is simply a formality, just so that you don’t freak out. 

Once in a relationship, it all turns worse. You don't want to move in with him so soon? It has been a month! His patience is now running thin. This might even be the cause of your first major disagreement or serious fight. If you choose to ignore him after that, even for a day, you are only making it worse for you. Suddenly, your home is broken in, thrashed or suddenly, you are locked out of your own home. The lock just wouldn’t open and it’s late at night. But either way, you don’t need to fear, John is just a call away. Or just happens to have been on his way to your place, to apologise, of course.

Sadly, this is just the beginning of manipulation and gaslighting.

Once he has you under his roof, there is no going back. Isn’t it strange? Some of your bathing and beauty products are already lined up in his bathroom cabinet.

 “I bought them just in case you decided to stay for weekends. I was thinking of inviting you over.”

It is reasonable but you can see through it. Anyone can—he is trying to ease you into living with him. It’s harmless in your eyes, only if you knew how far he has gone and is willing to go.

John loves it when you put on pretty dresses—your closet is slowly filled with more and more of them. Either it is a dress he has delivered to you, or left on your bed, or he simply appears with a random dress in a bag. 

“Thought it would look lovely on you.” 

It is incredible how he gets the measurement right, even before you both get intimate. It’s like his hands have a mind of their own, mapping your form even through simple touches.

The truth is, you are all in his mind, every touch, every trace is imprinted in John’s mind. It takes him incredible self-control to not have his hands all over you. His throat dries up when he gets to touch you, even if it seems innocent, a squeeze on your shoulder, holding your hand

Expect random trips to a boutique of his choice, he makes you try on as many dresses as you want, and he wants and every time you give him a twirl, he has to remind himself that you both are in public. If he likes a dress a little too much, he will invite you to his lap.

“Aren’t you a pretty doll?” His eyes have the darkness that unsettles you, just for a moment, before you shake it off

John is a gentleman, a true gentleman. A catch really—that is what you firmly believe. At least until you move in with him and the mask begins to fall. 

Suddenly, you realise that you barely have time for yourself, your closet is filled with the dresses he likes the most and you never go out with your friends as often. In fact, it has been a while since you have gone out. You are always rushing home after work because John prefers that you do not stay out till late. When was the last time you had a night out with your friends?

But by the time you come to realise all this, it is too late, you are so deep in his lair, entangled in his web. It is not easy to keep a sane mind with the amount of times his head is buried between your legs, or his fingers or both. And let’s not talk about what a silly mess his manhood thrusting in and out of your slick folds makes you. 

Like Donaka, John too has a corruption kink. You do not know how cruel the world is, you are a precious angel in this hell on earth. He wants to protect you, he will protect you and take care of you, regardless of what you want but he also gets off at your surprised expression when he bends you to a new position while your pleasure-drunk eyes look up at him. Only he will get to see that, of course. 

What would you do without him? You are going to work? He is dropping you, soon, you will see that you do not need to work at all. He is your protector and provider. You genuinely enjoy it? Well, you can continue what you do as a hobby, what is the need to take the pains of going to work every day?

John does not understand that. As I mentioned before, he sees you as something precious and fragile, a sweet doll that belongs to a safe, cosy, soft dollhouse. He makes sure that you have enough sleep, and enough nutrients and that you do not engage in any ‘dangerous’ activity. You do not need to cook, he will happily do that. If you insist on helping, he will let you mix things up, and even stir maybe, but you are staying away from hot oils and knives.

John is also the type who loves to kiss you on the cheeks for some reason, his lips softly touching your skin has a familiar warmth enveloping his heart. Even during intimate moments, he kisses you all over, like his lips tracing your body.

It is perhaps during the passionate, intimate moments that you get to see a glimpse of carefully concealed darkness. The sweet nothings make you blush. he says things in Russian that you have no idea of-

“You are meant to be fucked stupid and sleep soft and cosy in this bedroom, aren’t you? Why even bother stepping out? I have everything here for you.”

“Aren’t you pretty like this? My precious doll, all dressed up for me.”

“You were mine since the day I laid eyes on you.”

“Should keep you here all the time, huh? It’s too dangerous outside.”

“You need me, don’t you?”

“You are mine, aren’t you? All you need is me.”

“I could have just taken you, and you wouldn’t be able to do anything…”

If you do manage to put the dots and confront him someday, he will try to manipulate you and if that doesn’t work and you still want to leave…Good luck. Besides, he will have a good laugh watching you trying to fight him. Might even be condescending and mean about it.

[k0nanharv3y]

Am I giving Tim too much power and making him almost untouchable with many plot holes, and in fact, nothing you read will make sense? Yes, I am doing that, is there a problem?

Tim Drake Saved Gotham from Batman. Yeah, but lets say that he didn't do it becoming Robin

He Saved Gotham by becoming the focus of attention and method of anger release for Batman

///

And then there was a new rogue in Gotham. Batman didn't know who they were, what did they wanted, and why they seemed to be targeting only him. Inside and outside the mask, as Bruce Wayne and as the Dark Knight

He didn't have time for this, when he had them, when he found out who they were, he would destroy them, if necessary he would burn the world down, because his world burned with his son in that warehouse. Whoever the guy behind the attacks was, he would know the full wrath of the Dark Knight

But Tim was already hiding well from Batman right under his nose, Tim grew up following, watching and absorbing everything from the adults around him. But most of all he learned not to make mistakes. Tim would use the mistakes of the Joker, of Riddle, of each and every one of Gotham's rogues and learn not to leave clues, not to get caught, to hide right next to Batman, because it's a popular lie, Batman doesn't have eyes in the back of his head. The extra eyes he had died in Ethiopia

Tim had resources, time and only 12 years old, he was still moldable, he could fill any mold to perfection, so he forced himself to fit the mold of the rogue that Gotham would love. Because Tim wouldn't go for the city, he loved Gotham too much to destroy it trying to save a man who seemed to be digging his own grave, one in which he was dragging the city with him. Tim strategically targeted Bruce Wayne and Batman so that the man would get a slap in the face for his behavior. And if a building exploded, Tim would make sure that the people who worked or lived there would have good insurance and new jobs and compensation from Wayne Enterprises.

And Batman turned against the rogue who forced him to bury his own pain with his son and went to fight this guy who seemed to be virtually and physically everywhere. Batman knew the guy knew his identity, because the attacks were personal, lethal in any case, he was playing with him, mocking him. Until he seemed to stop

One day a letter on his door telling Batman how sorry he was and that "I had done what had to be done" and "I'm sorry for your loss, Mr. Wayne, but you were destroying the city with you" was all he got before the depressing silence of a quiet city -No, not a city, of Quiet Gotham-

The world kept turning and both lives continued

One next to the other

///

Steph became Robin long before because Batman was trying to open his heart to another child, Cassandra arrived just as she was supposed to, Steph never died because Batman was there and Dick made peace with the brother he could never love and loved his sisters and when Jason came back to life there was no vengeance in his blood because Batman never replaced him 10 minutes after Jason died. Yes, he was angry at the Joker and Batman's inability to kill him, but someone else did and Jason will embrace whoever did it. And when Damian got home everything was fine and he didn't steal the mantle from anyone because Steph was eager to give it to someone else and get Batman off her ass.

And Tim's life was lonely. His parents never stopped being absent, and the plane crash still happened because that wasn't because he was Robin, but because he was simply a living being. (Yes, I'm changing things up here) Janet was left in a coma and Jack died and in the end he was just a kid in a mansion that was too big, but so afraid of depending on someone (the last time he saw someone depending on someone else he had to blow up several buildings and cyberbully them to calm them down) who took the reins of Drake Industries and invented an uncle just to not be put in the system and still be off the bats' radar

And then Batman died

///

Hey you!, Yeah you!, Imagine that in the middle of the Bats' life, every time someone (a rogue) attacked Gotham, Tim would appear out of nowhere and digitally betray them to the Bats, and if Oracle isn't mentioned here, it's because you and I know that she would dismantle Tim from day one, so shut up, she's busy with her Birds of Prey or something, I DON'T KNOW, I'VE BEEN AWAKE FOR 26 HOURS

Part 2 of this bullshit

Part 3 cuz somehow I manage to make another one of these

[the-family-business-83]

Unexpected Calling – Part 2

Part 1 | Part 3 | Masterlist

Fandom: Marvel

Prompt: A world class contract killer finds an envelope at his dead drop. Inside are $23.42 in short change and a letter handwritten by a 9-year old girl.

Type: Series

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader's daughter (platonic obviously), Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Genre: fluff, action, slight angst, might get smutty but idk yet

Warnings: None for this chapter, it's really all fluff. Maybe a slight disclaimer about a lil kid interacting with a total stranger and some mom panic, but nothing bad happens!

Word count: 2.4k

Send me an ask to let me know if you wanna be added to/removed from the taglist!!

A/N: Trying to let myself just enjoy wirting and not overthink it all too much, so I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's a little bit of filler but I thought it was cute and it was fun to write. And yes, I know, it took forever to get posted. I had a lot going on, and I still may not be posting super frequently but to those of you who love this series so far, rest assured: I will still post, even if it's slow.

Any and all mistakes are my own as this chapter is unbeta'd, I did all my own editing/proofreading for this.

Text dividers made by @firefly-graphics <3

Transportation had really come a long way from what he'd been so used to when he was younger. There were planes that's the air of the skies with their quiet rumblings, helicopters that you could hear coming long before they appeared, and cars. Cars were so different these days, he'd gotten used to them but it just wasn't the same. Some part of him still couldn't wrap his mind around the concept of phones being able to connect to the car. And that was just one of many new upgrades.

But Bucky didn't take his trip by air, customs were a bitch to get through on a normal day let alone when he needed to bring weapons with him. He didn't take a train either, because–well. He'd had an uneasy feeling with them ever since 1944 when he fell down the mountainside. So, instead he went by cross-country bus, and kept to himself in his seat once he got on and found one near the back where it was mostly empty. Being perfectly on time, if not a little early, there were a fewhandfuls people that he watched enter in the time that he waited for the bus to start moving. His watchful eye kept them in sight here and there but for the most part, he simply pulled his dark red baseball cap down a little lower and looked out the window to help hide his face. He could only hope that when one passenger entered with not one, not two; but three small children, that they wouldn't be very loud.

Oh how very wrong he had been. Not even 20 minutes into the trip and two of the rugrats were already whining and fighting with each other. Bucky could only stare at them in distaste as he blinked at the sight, wondering how in the world such tiny things could make so much noise. Granted, he'd never really had to deal with children, not like this anyway. And they couldn't have been any older than 3 or 5, each of them. The oldest of the three seemed to be perfectly fine and well-occupied, thank heavens but that didn't make it any more desirable

Sucking a deep breath in, Bucky suppressed the urge to ask the clearly struggling mother to turn off the screeching, and pulled out a book from his day-pack, beginning to flip through it to find his spot. Maybe if he just pretended they weren't there, they would disappear from his mind.

Not likely, but the effort was still made as he focused on the pages of the small paperback copy of The Hobbit he'd brought with him. Glancing up when it once again wasn't working well, he was caught by surprise when suddenly the older child was standing right there by his seat row, and admittedly he tensed in reaction as a sort of mini-flinch. She hadn't said a word, he hadn't even heard her walking over. But there she was, standing with her stuffed bunny in her arms, simply staring at him while he did the same. Both were quiet for a long moment before Bucky glanced up the way towards where her mother sat with her brothers, clearing his throat. "Can I…help you?" He asked a bit awkwardly as he brought his furrowed-brow gaze back to the little girl. Once more, she didn't really say anything, instead just looking him over quietly. Then, she climbed herself up into the seat next to his since it was open, and Bucky was starting to wish he'd put one of his bags there. "Hey, look, kid- your mom- ….what are you doing?"

She shrugged as he stumbled his words out, and glanced down at her bunny fiddling with it a little as she got settled in the seat. "Too loud." Her answer came simply, and while it didn't answer his question completely, he definitely understood the feeling.

Sighing slightly, he glanced towards her troubled mother once more, and then back to bunny-girl. "...Alright, what's your name kid?"

"Mandy." She replied quietly, glancing up at him a moment later with big green eyes. "What's yours mister?"

"Bucky. My name's Bucky." The man paused for a moment then, almost as if debating whether he should send her back to her family yet or not, but she was calm and quiet, and wasn't harming anything. And it wasn't like he was going to let anything happen to a little kid, so he dismissed the idea for now and instead went back to his book.

It was a minute or so later that he felt the little girl–Mandy, he reminded himself silently–leaning over the arm rest between them slightly to see what he was reading. Brows knitting once again, Bucky glanced from the pages to the young girl, whose curly pigtails somewhat bounced in the way of his view of the words. His mouth parted a fraction, ready to let something slip off his tongue to tell her to sit back and let him read. But nothing came. He didn't know how to tell the girl to get out of his space without, well… being a dick. This was a *child* it would have been different had it been an adult. So instead he simply blinked at her in silence as he debated how to handle it.

Mandy seemed to sense he was looking at her though, because then she met his gaze and inched back into place in her seat, curling around her stuffed, yellow bunny, the apology clear in her demeanor. "I just wanted to see your story." She muttered out, albeit the words likely came out a tad muffled because her bunny's head was pressed against her mouth slightly.

Kids. There was something about them that just- got to him. Admittedly, maybe some part of him had a soft spot. One that he'd probably always had, an instinct he'd never been able to shake. And maybe there was something about that moment that reminded him of the slightly younger girl that he'd been on his way to help, that made him realize he was already traveling across the states to investigate the disappearance of some kid's mother. A small gesture really couldn't hurt him. He may not have said anything, but he did nod, and as he brought his crisp blue hues back to the book in his hands, he started reading the words out to her, quietly but still loud enough to be heard against her brothers' tantrums.

Whatever she'd been expecting, Mandy seemed delightfully surprised when he began reading to her, and her eyes lit up as she looked from him to the book, leaning over once again but this time while staying back more in her seat meaning her head rested against his arm lightly, so that he could still see but she couldn't help wanting to peek. There was something about how trusting she was, about how trusting kids often seemed to be, that just genuinely baffled him. Maybe it was because he'd been so jaded for so long that it was just a mind boggling concept to see such innocence. Or maybe it simply was a brilliant anomaly that children lacked the cynicism of their parents and the adults around them, that they saw things grown-ups didn't and thought of things that were unique to them.

Bucky didn't know when the crying and whining had stopped, but eventually the sun went down around them and it was dark in the bus, nothing but the glow-in-the-dark caution stickers and the light of the full moon to let him read the words on the pages. And just as he'd glanced over towards the little girl next to him, seeing that she was well on her way to passing out completely, he heard her mother patter over looking both exhausted and annoyed. "Mandy- for God's sake, you cannot-" only then did the woman seem to register that her daughter was half asleep, not really hearing her mother much and so all that Mandy gave in response was a tired hum as she nuzzled against Bucky's arm a little more.

Well, shit. He may not be experienced with children but he knew enough to know that if he moved she might wake up. And frankly he didn't even know if she'd let him move. Glancing up towards the mother, he offered an apologetic smile. "Didn't mean to scare you…she just kind of walked on over and climbed up. Seemed like you had your hands full so I hope it's okay I kept her busy for you?" He whispered to her, stopping her before she could rage at him–if that was what she'd been about to do, that is. She looked tired, and scared, understandably so. And most of all she looked ashamed that she hadn't even noticed her daughter leave.

"O-oh…thank you, I- I mean, I'm sorry if she caused you any trouble, I just- yeah…those boys…sorry they were so loud, they're in that phase…" she apologized sheepishly in hushed tones of her own, rubbing her palms against the fronts of her jeans as her gaze flicked between her daughter and the quiet stranger of a man. "I passed out and then I…I woke up and she was gone, I'm so sorry sir."

"Not a problem, honestly. She's pretty decent company, let me read in peace with her." Reading that nervousness on the woman’s features, he paused for a moment before shrugging his free shoulder up. "Don't sweat it, I shoulda sent her back…I was going to, believe me but uh. Well, at least now you get a break, right?" He tried to ease her nerves, but then glanced down towards Mandy. "I can carry her back to your seat if you'd like."

He was just so damned kind, she thought. A complete stranger and yet her daughter was clearly safe and well, asleep even and yes, now everything was quiet and she had some time to relax. It didn't stop her mom-dar from going off, but at the very least she'd be a fool to not appreciate his kindness. "No, no it's… it's okay, I don't want to wake her, she's a bit of a light sleeper…just uh, if she wakes up let me know. I'm Erin, by the way…in case that helps." This time it was her turn to offer a kind smile.

"Bucky. Nice to meet you…I'll keep it in mind, hopefully she lets you have a break though." He chuffed an amused breath out his nose.

Doing the same, she shook her head. "Yeah, if only. Thanks, again…I'll let you uh. Read in peace." She teased lightly, taking a hand back through her hair as she went back to her seat before the driver could reprimand her for standing up so long.

Smiling in amusement at that, he watched Erin go back to her sons, and in turn went back to his book after a moment. It was the small things, that made life easier. The small things were what really made things worth it. Sure, saving the world and saving people was big, and it was good. And it was worth it. But sometimes it was moments where he managed to do something more mundane, and helped someone else, that made all the other shit worth it. Because it meant he was still capable of being human.

———

By the time the sun was back up, Bucky rose with it, his eyes slowly opening to the light streaming through the window and he groaned quietly at the crick in his neck from how he'd slept. Running his flesh hand over his face groggily, as he glanced around he noticed that the warmth that had been leaned up against his arm the night day before was no longer there. He would have been concerned, thinking he'd now somehow lost some stranger's child, but he saw the pigtail-bearing girl peeking up over her seat at him a moment later, watching her smile appear once more as she gave him a little wave. Crisis averted. Not like there was anywhere she could really go on a bus, but still.

Despite still being a bit plagued by morning sleepiness, he smiled back and gave the girl a small wave of his own before watching her sink back into her seat properly. Probably at the urging of her mother. His sleepiness didn't last long, though, because soon those boys were back to making noise, but at least it wasn't as much of a headache as yesterday because it was merely them playing and babbling about random things. That was tolerable. And so he relaxed a bit more, rolling out his neck some before he picked up his book again and went on reading.

Somewhere along the way, the lone mother with her trio of children had reached their stop and were gathering their things to leave. It was Mandy who escaped her mother's sight once again to go see the kind man at the back of the bus who had read to her, bunny still in her arms but this time with a warm smile in place. "Hi Mr. Bucky! Mommy said I shouldn't bother you again… but I just wanted to say I liked your story and you're very nice." She didn't give him time to process all of that before she climbed up in the same seat as before, and kissed his cheek for a moment before hearing her mother call her name.

"You're welcome, Mandy. I think your mom needs you though, better get going." He encouraged even as he seemed surprised by her display of affectionate gratitude. The little girl wiggled back down from the seat then, but not without turning to wave at him, walking backwards to do so. "Bye Mr. Bucky!" She rushed the words out before running along to catch up to her mother. Watching her run along, he smiled at her little goodbye, and waved back at her as she went on her way. He wished that woman luck with her undoubtedly trouble-filled journey, honestly. Because he had his own coming up and somehow he felt like she was going to have it harder.

The rest of his ride went on rather uneventful, and when he arrived at his stop it was almost nighttime. But he was all the more closer to getting this job done, so saddling himself up with all his bags, he made his way into town and started heading for the address he'd gotten on the envelope.

Tags: @baw1066 @fluffydanger @vicmc624 @sjsmith56 @capswife @dispatchvampire @sofi1sstuff @sarbear94 @impeterporker @hhiggs @safiraish @kayden666 @saltedcoffeescotch @mcubuckyandsteve @thebuckybarnesvault @himikotoga

[ostrichlady]

I've watched season 2 of arcane many times now, and that last scene of Viktor and Jayce never fails to amaze me. Once you know exactly what's going to happen after a few rewatches, you start noticing little clues and symbolism across the show which make the scene so much more delightful but that's not even what makes me feel so impacted at the end of it. With all the sincerity I hold in me, this is one of the most beautiful and purest depictions of love I've ever seen.

The scene sequence works so well. It's perfect. It's raw and tender and caring. Overflowing with all the abstraction of what love is.

The artistry is breathtaking. The colours of a ruined world contrasting with the lively shades of flowers against Jayce's stone figure. The clean blue from the sky, the polished and ancient figure of mage Viktor against the rough edges and vibrancy of defender Jayce.

The celestial colours of their bodies detached from any materialistic accessories, Jayce's face being so much warmer in contrast with Viktor's much paler complexion. The gold from the different souls, the thin strands of consciousness gathering at one moment. Galaxy in its most humane form if that's even possible.

Everything is beautifully harmonized to fulfill one goal, which is to frame the connection of Jayce and Viktor.

I can't get enough of looking at Jayce's face throughout this whole scene. His eyes speak for his heart louder than anyone could comprehend. Understandment, care, longing, affection. A need and a want to let Viktor have his love. He's telling Viktor that he's there and he won't leave again, wherever Viktor goes, he will too. And Jayce knows Viktor isn't like him. Viktor won't simply take love and gulp it down.

No, Jayce understands that he has to do it slowly, wrapped in tenderness but full of determination. It stands out to me just how, when reaching for Viktor's shoulder, Jayce's hand hoovers for a little bit before grabbing it. He's giving time to Viktor, but he's also assuring that he's there. For him. With him.

Viktor is confused, is scared, his eyes are desperately looking at what he has done, and what it could've become, how could it be that he had been so wrong? And why was Jayce talking to him about wanting his partner back when Viktor himself doesn't know if he could be anything remotely similar after everything? Why was this man overflowing with so much affection when Viktor was, until a few seconds ago, trying to get rid of it all? Viktor gets taken down from this polished, higher power mindset and is thrown right at the core of human emotions, barely able to hang on to it.

But it's okay because Jayce will hold Viktor until he can stand for himself. 

Jayce tells him it's okay. He does it by looking at him dearly. By holding his open hand carefully. By placing the gem in it securely. No matter what happens, it is okay. 

The gem is reactive and powerful and holds so much to it. Their lives, their projects, their dreams. Magic in raw form, full capacity.

When both of their hands are placed on what started everything, they both look at each other one final time. This is it. They know what's about to happen. But it's okay. It really is. Because there's nothing else they can do to fight their destiny this time. Because there's really no point fighting this time.

Jayce pulls Viktor, a call for him. I'm here. 

And Viktor responds to his call. I know.

They are together.  They've always been together, their connection preserved into a small gem stone. Into so many others, across so many other possibilities and timelines. Whether it failed or not, it has always been there. Raw and sincere.

This time, despite the circumstances, it did work. Not everything is perfect, but it doesn't have to be. That's the beauty of it all, as Jayce said himself. The world will keep moving even after they're gone. Broken as always, but never stopping.

Theirs souls are intertwined across what we call time and space. If forever has an ending, then it will be rewritten. Their love is bigger than any terms we might choose to describe it. Their bond is far greater than any anomaly or magic blast.

They're safe, embraced by the deepness and vastness of the universe. Nothing will separate them. It started with them and it finished with them. Always them, only them. Together as partners.

[jd-loves-fiction]

For the Contes de Fées, i would like to ask for Azul, then you first meet him. Sfw or nsfw its up to you in the happy ending. (I dont feel like crying today lmao)

Gn reader if possible, you know who this is~

-🐙🐕

💐This one turned out quite shot but I'm losing steam fast :( hope you enjoy it hun!! ❤️

❧ A simple bargain

❧ When the sky had turned dreadfully dark, you should've turned tail and ran. But what hope did you have of outrunning a storm so close.

So you prepared for the worst and prayed. Before you knew it, you'd been thrown overboard so roughly, you were out before even hitting the water.

To survive would have been a miracle – one you did not believe in. And yet, you feel the tug of consciousness against the back of your head hours later, back upon cool rock and the scent of something cooking invading your nose.

You come to slowly and with much effort, regaining use of each of your limbs with slight twitches until they finally listen to your commands. Sitting up seems an impossible feat as you’re left gasping just from trying.

“Welcome back, captain.” The sudden greeting makes you double your efforts of standing up to know who saved you, though the silky voice is entirely unfamiliar.

When you succeed, you turn toward where the voice had come from to see a smartly dressed man tending to a pot.

You blink your eyes purposefully, making sure your eyes do not deceive you. The man is pale as birch, with hair like strands of silver and a smile that spells trouble without a doubt. It’s still not clear to you if you are truly awake.

“How– Who–?” Your voice fails you, raspy and as broken as you feel – aching down to your very bones, skin both cold and clammy and a strange taste in your mouth.

“Don't strain yourself, captain. Keeping you alive through the night was not at all easy and I’d hate for my efforts to be wasted before you can pay me back.” The man speaks with the practiced ease of a slimy businessman, though he must be nothing of the sort given the way his pale skin catches the light in such an mesmerizing way… plus the fact that the cave you find yourselves in has no entrance besides a pool of dark seawater.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Azul, though I respond to ‘savior’ just as well.” He finally seems to give you his full attention, only to give you a cheeky response.

“How do I know you’re not lying about saving me?”

“Do you see anyone else here?” He gestures around himself in a wide, dramatic arc and from that movement alone you can tell he’s going to be a pain in the neck.

“How do you know who I am? Why did you save me?” Questions rush out of you like a waterfall as your senses finally return to you in full. You’re head is spinning and aching, trying to make sense of what you know happened, where you are, who he could possibly be–

“So many questions… you’re lucky I’m a patient man.” Azul heaves a long-suffering sigh, standing from his stone seat to move closer to you, making you tense up, “I know who you are because I’ve been watching you and I saved you because I believed you’d be of use to me were we to make a deal. Which we will, once you get your bearings.” He stands a mere two steps from where you sit, back straight as a rod and spewing such overconfident nonsense you fear he might’ve seen the future to be so sure. If not for the way his fingers twitch at his sides, anxious.

“You sound so sure, and yet you don't look it.” He seems stunned at the accusation, subtly flinching in surprise. Seems you're more shrewd than he expected. 

“There's always a degree of assumption or probability to deals such as these. I tend to avoid falling into blind confidence.” He pulls himself together so quickly that your weakened mind accepts it without question.

“What's this about a deal?” You bring a hand up to your aching forehead – dealing with businessmen is an endeavor guaranteed to give you a headache every time.

“I saved your life, so now there's the matter of how you'll pay me back.” Azul states simply, almost patiently – if you were to take his words at face value.

“Right. Can't I just pay you back?”

“I have plenty of money. There's something much more valuable that I want from you.” That can't be good.

You wait for him to name his price himself, but he simply looks at you expectantly – how dramatic, “What would that be?”

“Your heart.”

“...What?”

[kykyonthemoon]

7 Days the mini-series

About this series: ✈️

Day 06: My Defender

Immediately after receiving the message, I hurried to the headmaster's office. There, I found Caleb waiting on one of the seats outside. His white uniform was covered in mud, he had bruises all over his body, one side of his face was slightly swollen, and there was a bleeding wound at the corner of his mouth.

"Caleb? What happened to you?"

I sat down beside him and held his hand timidly out of fear of hurting him. Caleb didn't look at me and turned his face away.

"Caleb?" I pulled his hand, still he refused to look at me. So I wrapped him in my arms. "It hurts, doesn't it?"

Caleb sat still and let me hold him for a while longer. Even though he didn’t respond, I could guess what had happened on the way here. I overheard the other students gossiping that there had been a fight between Caleb and another fifth grader, I just didn’t know why.

After a while, Caleb seemed to calm down, he took my hand off and started talking:

“I’m fine. Gran is talking to the headmaster inside.”

“Why didn’t you go to the nurse’s office?”

“I’m all right.”

He responded, even waved his arms and legs to let me know that, unlike the other children who were crying and running into the nurse's office, he was still fine. But I just frowned at him.

“What happened?” I asked. Caleb had never caused trouble at school. He had always been a good student, a well-liked boy by both teachers and his peers. His energy was all for sports and extracurricular activities. I never imagined seeing him in a situation like this.

Caleb didn’t want to tell me, but after some pleading, he finally spoke: 

“They were talking bad about you.”

“Huh?” I was stunned. Caleb simply explained that not everyone in school liked me. They made up stories and said negative things about me out of envy. Those words reached Caleb and turned him enraged. As a result, he gave them all a short trip to the nurse's office.

After hearing this, I gently gripped his hand. The sight of him using Evol to hang a few kids on a tree must have been hilarious. I was very grateful that he was so protective of me. However, I wasn't planning to be the cause of his troubles.

“I don’t care what they think of me,” I said. “Because they’re not important to me. I only care what Caleb thinks of me…”

“You are the most wonderful person in my eyes!” Caleb replied without a thought. “If anyone dares to say anything bad about you, I’ll put them up the tree again—Ouch…”

Caleb grimaced and gently massaged the wound on his face. I pulled his hand away, saying, “When I fall or get hurt, you always blow on my wound, right?” I puffed out my cheeks and blew gently on the wound on Caleb’s face. HDespite being a little taken aback, he obediently sat still. “After that…”

I leaned a bit closer to him and delicately kissed his injured cheek, just like he had kissed the cut on my palm when I was careless before.

“This is a blessing of speedy recovery for you…”

*

* *

Opening the headmaster’s office door, I saw the kid sitting alone outside. One of his cheekbones was swollen, his clothes were untidy and covered in mud. He peered up at me with determination and a hint of guilt.

“Am I in trouble, Mom?”

In that child, I saw the imprints of the boy who had been by my side many years ago.

“Of course you are. Violence is not the way to solve problems. I've taught you better than that."

The child dropped his head, disappointed. My severe expression eased, and I softly ruffled his hair. "You also need to know that it was the right thing to do to stand up for your friend."

He glanced up at me with a cheerful expression. I added, “However, next time, remember to use your brain, not your brawn. You're just like your father.”

The child smiled and grasped my hand tightly. On the way home, an airship sailed overhead from Skyhaven. The little boy waved up and said:

“I think Dad will be home soon!”

“Let’s hurry then. How about we throw him a lovely welcome back party at home?"

[stiltsthegm]

What if you just had fun?

When I'm really bored at work and need something to distract me, but can't get TOO distracted (due to the aforementioned work), I like to watch challenge runs. This inevitably leads to me getting other videos that are tangentially-related to the game that was the subject of the video I just saw, and that's how I stumbled upon this one:

And it was fascinating to me in a way that made me feel a need to say something about it. Not in, like, a mean way (I'm aiming for a gentle ribbing, at most). There's been thoughts stirring in me for a while now about how disconnected I can sometimes feel between the ways I experience games and how "content creators" play games that are simply fascinating to me.

Although I do recommend watching at least some of the video to get the gist of what's happening, I'll do my best to accurately summarize the main thing that prompted this whole post: the author has played Skyrim a lot, almost always with a bunch of mods, and nearly always played it the same way: stealth archer. However, he recently tried a challenge playthrough that essentially forced him to engage in a bunch of systems he never paid much attention to before: alchemy, blacksmithing, mining, herb gathering, and shouts to name just a few. He even found himself using fast travel less, because it meant he could do gathering and transmutation magic while going to his next destination instead of going out of his way to grind out everything right before he needed it. This ended up giving him a greater appreciation for how an un-modded Skyrim actually works and is deeper than he originally gave it credit for.

My first reaction to this was perhaps a little uncharitable: "Were you even playing Skyrim at all until now?"

In a previous video he made (which I also watched), he talks about why stealth archery is so popular. He posits that it's the only combat method that plays well with Skyrim's other systems, since its damage scales well, it's precise (very little worry about hitting friendly NPCs), it's the easiest way to engage in stealth mechanics, and it's just generally pretty powerful. I'm mostly sympathetic to that opinion, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't find stealth archer to be my favorite way to play.

However, I was completely blindsided by someone saying they didn't engage in so many of these other systems. Like, yes, you can simply buy armor and weapons and potions, so alchemy and blacksmithing isn't mandatory. You can ignore it if you want to. But to not EVER try to engage with it?

I've encountered this sort of disconnect before in a way I found much more frustrating. You see, I really like the Civilization games, but I'm kind of bad at intuiting the systems at play on my own. I often look up videos from much smarter people to help me build a foundation of understanding so I can then I can at least make terrible choices on purpose rather than on accident. I was watching one particular Youtuber's reactions to some Civ 7 gameplay previews and found myself constantly baffled by the statements they were making. There were several little things that irritated me, but the one that finally made me turn off the video was a criticism of Civ 7 trying to implement story events like Paradox games do. They mentioned they hated that kind of mechanic and completely ignored the writing, just picking whichever choice offered the best mechanical advantage at the time. It was then that I realized that this analysis video was going to be completely useless to me. We had very different priorities, and they had no interest in considering that changes from any angle other than the very narrow one they've always used. Like, sure, maybe it will end up being bad, but this is one preview video of one playthrough. Being angry at just the concept of story events seemed absurd.

There are folks out there who like "solving" video games. They find the most efficient, most powerful thing they can do, and they do that. Over and over and over again. I think what hit me most about the Skyrim video was that I wasn't expecting to find that kind of playstyle applied to that game. Skyrim exists so you can play in it. I sometimes make characters that run up to guys and hit them with a big sword not because it's the best way to play the game, but because it's just funny to hit guys with a big sword. I explore the map because Skyrim's world is beautiful, and I like simply being in it. I gather herbs because it gives me something to do while hiking and I like how the plant's graphic changes after I collect it. I do things in Skyrim not because I'm forced to, but because I want to explore what the game has to offer. And lately, I sometimes choose to not do things because I want to play a role.

The more I thought about Thane's Skyrim video, the more I grew fond of it. It starts out as just another challenge run where he's thinking about mechanical efficiency, and ends with him appreciating just how many different things he can do in the base game (Building a house! Marriage! Praying at shrines!) and how these systems interact with each other. That's neat! I genuinely love that someone who plays these games from a completely different mindset than I do can keep an open mind and learn share my love of these mechanics. I wish I saw it happen more often.

[rowan-ashtree]

Keeper of Earth

this is a gift for @riseandfallofsecunit because they drew my OCs (look at them!!!), written about someone in my OC world getting some Elemental magic (explanation of magic system here. i think that's all the context you need)

1.1k words, no CWs (let me know if i missed anything!)

this is my first time posting something set in this world - I'd love to post more if people are interested :)

🌱⚡🌊🔥☀️🌑 | 🌑☀️🔥🌊⚡🌱

You've been guarding the Vessel of Earth for a number of years now.

It's not as cool as you'd originally thought.

Not the Vessel. That thing — a circlet of vines that bloom with gemstones rather than flowers — is extremely cool.

Guarding it is what's boring.

Oh, you know it's an important job. You take the responsibility very seriously. You just thought it'd be more… exciting?

Nevertheless, you do what the Keepers’ Guild asked of you: check on the Vessel and update its History each day, stay mostly isolated, move around often, and grow a garden wherever you live.

The garden doesn't need to be anything special, they'd told you. Just something that shows the Element that you care. So you plant whatever's in season, wherever you happen to be. Currently, it's tomatoes and bell peppers, plus various herbs and flowers.

You're kneeling in the garden now, gently untangling weeds from the soil to be transplanted away from your vegetables. One annoying thing about keeping the core of all nature magic in your toolshed: it feeds all life. It doesn't make growing a garden any less work.

The small toolshed sits nearby to the garden. You've gotten better at not glancing at it every three seconds just to make sure it's still locked, though you learned quickly that the vines growing on the walls and roof need to be checked on and pruned frequently, or else they'll slowly dismantle the shed in their hunt for the magic they can sense within.

It also attracts animals, which you'd been warned about, but not prepared for emotionally. One day, you'd walked outside to see a large wildcat napping by the shed, and you'd made a strangled gasp-scream that had woken the cat. It had stirred, looked at you, then gone back to sleep.

Okay, so it was kind of a cool job.

(Still not very exciting, though. Not in the ways you'd hoped.)

You gather your tools and the small bundle of uprooted plants, and move to the second garden plot, the one where you put the weeds. Many of them are hardy enough that you just sprinkle them across the ground. A few of them, you take the time to re-plant.

Very early on, you learned that the Element of Earth doesn't appreciate needless death. It encourages the natural cycle of things, of life, death, decay, and rebirth, but the weeds in your garden have as much right to live as the vegetables you plant. So you simply relocate them, to show the Element that you care. (And so they don't strangle your basil.)

Standing up again, you wipe your hands on your pants — you gave up on keeping them free of dirt stains a long time ago — and move towards the shed to put away your tools.

When you unlock and open the door, the gentle multicolored glow of the Vessel’s gemstones spills out. You block as much of it as you can with your body and quickly shut the door behind you, even though you know there's no one around. Call it paranoia, but old habits die hard.

As you hang up your tools (yes, the shed houses incredibly powerful magic, but it's still a toolshed), you notice that the light seems greener than usual. You look closer at the Vessel. It hangs on a nail like a celebratory wreath, about the size of a woven flower crown. One of the smaller precious stones, the one that's usually colorless and crystalline, is now a deep, bright green.

Carefully (always carefully, though the Vessel has never harmed you), you reach up to touch the green stone — but before you do, it falls off the vine and into your palm.

You flinch and gasp and close your fist around it. In all the years you've guarded the Vessel, through all the places you've lived, this has never happened before.

You open your hand slowly. The bright green glow is pulsing now. Starting to panic, you think back to what the Guild told you — was there anything about the stones falling out? Have you been doing something wrong this whole time? Oh, stars and smoke, did you somehow manage to break the Vessel?

Trembling, you reach with your free hand to touch the other gemstones, even going so far as to gingerly wiggle one like you would a loose tooth, but they all seem as secure as they've ever been. You try to remember the History, if any previous guardian recorded something similar to this.

You're staring into the gemstone, flashing greener and brighter and faster, when you realize you're spiraling. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, then another, letting out the tension in your body with each exhale. Freaking out won't help anything, as you're well aware, so you try to let go of the panic, then open your eyes to try again.

The gem’s light still pulses on your palm, but you realize something — it's pulsing to the beat of your heart.

Huh.

Well, it is nature magic, and you're definitely part of nature. Is it trying to tell you something?

You take several more deep breaths, feeling your heartbeat slow, and watching as the gem's flashes slow to match.

Panic fades, replaced by curiosity. You try to project that feeling out, unsure of what to do but ready to receive what the Element wants to give.

As soon as that thought crosses your mind, the gem glows brighter, and brighter, still matching your heartbeat — then disappears.

You have a split second to be confused — until you feel something blooming in your heart, your limbs, your mind. For a moment, you're acutely aware of the world around you: the fungi in the shed, the vines surrounding it, the beetles under the grass and the bedrock far below. Most of all, the Vessel, still glowing softly, now missing a gemstone. You've always known the whole world is alive (how could it not be?), but it's more than that. It's gloriously bright, it's overflowing with energy. With all this life around you, it's no wonder the Vessel glows.

Slowly, gently, the awareness fades, but you still feel awash with the beautiful warmth of your Element.

… your Element?

You open your eyes (you aren't sure when you closed them). The dim toolshed looks the same, but you feel different. You look at the Vessel again — note the missing gem, the mild glow, the hardy vines. You reach up, touch the empty socket, and realization blossoms.

The Vessel of Earth has gifted you magic.

It's not your Element, really. It doesn't belong to you (nor does it belong to anyone), but you are a part of it, now.

You realize you're leaning against the wall for support. There's a new, tiny crystal already growing in the Vessel's empty spot. You look down at yourself. You look no different from before, but inside…

Well. Your wish for more excitement seems to have come true.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

If Jungkook really could cum 8(!) times, how do you switch it up between orgasms? Do you pick a different position each time? And what do you do during refractory periods?

Sex is a collaboration. All parties are to contribute. If not, well, that's just masturbation with somebody there. I'm not one for plans, as I believe that takes the fun out of sex, but more importantly this type of question implies that I lack consideration and perception of what he would want, which isn't true. I don't know Jungkook personally but I do respect him as a person with his own desires.

No, it would not matter if I was the dom. No, it would not matter if he gave consent to me having full control of his entire body. People are not tools for my own pleasure. People are people. Even gagged, tied-up, and unable to hear me. It doesn't matter. It is my responsibility to listen. The body talks. I will know he can do it even if he says he can't. I will not pressure him to do something he doesn't want to do even if I think he physically can. Those are two different things and it is important to be able to discern so before engaging in power play.

Also, want to make it clear that I don't expect him to have multiple orgasms just because I like it. I actually don't have any expectations. He could tell me he's a virgin and I would enjoy teaching him from the ground up. (Honestly, that would be much easier than unlearning any bad habits.) Sex is like any other activity - you need to practice to excel at specifics. People have ceilings, too. I could practice basketball every day for 10 years and I would still be ass at it. Likewise, if JK asked me to help him nut as many times as he possibly could, I would absolutely get him there over repeated instances. But I'm not gonna whip out every trick in the book and push him to his limit the first time we intend to fuck because 1) that's intimidating, 2) his dick couldn't handle it, 3) he couldn't handle it, and 4) I wanna enjoy too, lol.

There's no "do xyz, it works every time" because it won't. The realistic answer is, depends. The positions? Depends on how we're feeling. Variety is the most reasonable answer. But what if we want to test how many times I can make him cum with my mouth? Or what if he wants as much pussy as his dick can handle? What to do during refractory periods also depends on how things worked out that day. Sometimes you spend the time in between cleaning up a bit. Sometimes you don't care and stick to each other like sticky rice. Sometimes there's no stop and you keep going. If he wants to do it and can do it, I will make it happen. The individual actions matter little as they are completely circumstantial. I won't outline a step-by-step process because there isn't one. You just do what is right in the moment. We all have preferences but I think it's equally important to be adaptable. Read body language and respond to it. Not only for another, but also yourself. Attune to the moment, not just what you know or what you aspire to be.

There's no formula. When I first started having sex, I too had a idea of standard procedure. Maybe some can be satisfied with that but I quickly found it intrusive. I abandoned such a concept. Passion cannot be contained in a plan. People change on the day, in years, over their lifetime. The best sex happens when you're in the moment. I already know what they want before they know they want it because I'm listening to their body. Not just sound, but also reaction to touch, mood, tension. I honed intuition by paying attention to what is in front of me rather than getting lost in my own ambitions.

I never say, "I'm going to make you orgasm eight times." I simply ask afterward, "How many times did you orgasm?" And he wheezes out, "Eight," before collapsing while I think BTS is seven though, maybe he squeezed out the last one for me?

[burnnouts]

Yennefer was a well of endless desire, a black hole of need and spiraling, pulsating power. She had never felt the way Beck was now describing, as though she was a part of something, as though she were anything more than a parasite, sucking energy from the world around her. The closest she had ever felt to connection was the day the sorceress Tissaia found her and brought her to the magical school of Aretuza. For the very first time, she had experienced some akin to friendship. For the first time in her life, she was surrounded by people like her: those with the same power buzzing beneath their skin, the same relentless ambition, the same disconnect from everyone around them. And yet the friendship came at a cost, with a limit. It was a sisterhood, yes, but like any sisters, they cared for one another just as much as they despised each other, competing endlessly, always determined to be stronger than the others, to stand out, to be the best.

If Yennefer were to be the reincarnation of a spirit, it would not be anything so pure or beautiful as the moon or sun or nature. She would be a spirit of want, a vacuum in space tugging, seeking, sucking in the world around it, intent on making everything it could touch a part of itself. As she listened to Beck speak, she tried to imagine what such a connection might feel like, but she had no reference or experience to which she could compare. Yennefer had a bad habit of running the moment anything felt too comfortable, too familiar, so of course she could not possess anything with such a name. (And that too was a line in the sand between their two very different lives, that the word possess came so quickly to mind; not friend, not ally, not fellow. Yennefer knew only how to take.)

“Perhaps,” she replied. Her expression had folded into the same unreadable mask she so often wore in public. She saw no point arguing with the woman, yet she could not agree. Beck was sweet, kind-hearted. Of course she thought the best of Yennefer too, thought her deeper than she was, thought her power noble. But did the birds not come because her magic forced them to her will? Was she not simply a puppet master borrowing the energy of all life around her?

But the birds live, said a little voice in the back of her mind. In her world, magic always came with a cost. As she drew energy from the world around her, that energy had to come from somewhere. She had been taught with flowers—pull the life from the flower, and convert it into a spell. Sometimes, the best thing a flower can do for us is die, Tissaia would say. But the birds lived. They thrived, even. They appeared, they did her bidding, and they remained intact, cheerful and determined—no wilting feathers or sullen faces.

As she carefully watched Beck’s expression, took in every word, Yennefer thought of the gardens she’d killed, the life she’d sucked from growing vines, the trees she’d sucked dry. Here, sitting before her, was the very essence of nature itself, and she its killer. Yet it happened less and less, her power requiring less energy, taking less and less each time. It had been the same in school. Every sorceress and sorcerer she’d met required an offering, substances to draw from, in order to open a portal. Yennefer needed nothing but the mere thought of her destination.

“How did you know?” she asked. “That you were this spirit?” She had seen many nature spirits, godlings and monsters too, ancient witches of the forest and prophecized saviors and end-bringers. Yet she had heard of nothing like Beck before. “In any case, it seems you were all meant for each other. I am glad they found you.” And if there was the slightest tinge of jealousy behind her words, the reckless, hopeless desire to ever care or be cared for in such a manner, she did not let it show.

“There is a man,” she said suddenly. Her eyes remained on the water, on the curve of the ox’s head and the parting pool beneath his body. “Many years ago, I attempted to capture a Djinn.” A foolish plan. But she had been young and reckless then—and desperate for a child. “I thought that if I could become the vessel for the Djinn, I might control its power. It did not work.” Her plum-painted lips fell into a stiff line as she remembered this failure. “It would have killed me, if this man had not stepped in. He had freed the Djinn and so had three wishes it would grant. For his third, he wished for our lives to be connected. Because the Djinn cannot kill its master, and our fates were now one, it could not kill me either.”

She placed her hands upon her knees and, finally, looked up, meeting Beck’s eyes. “The wording was vague. The wish…obscure. I do not know what it means for my future. We were romantic for a time. We are no longer. Yet, I wonder if my soul is my own or if this wish marks him forever as a part of it.” Geralt was no familiar, and it was clear by her expression that Yennefer was not comfortable with such a bond, could not relate, as Beck had said, like wool that had been felted together. “I tell you this only because I believe you have the right to know. He will not follow us. He is no threat.” He might, in fact, be the best man she’d ever known. “Nor do I wish to find and speak with him before we leave. But he does have an annoying habit of ‘accidentally’ showing up in my life again and again, no matter how far away I get. It seems only right that you should know the truth of it now."

"That sounds like a lonely life." Beck said gently. A whole continent of witches without familiars. Normally she found the ways in which they differed fascinating, but this just sounded sad. Her first familiar had come to her as a young girl of only five years, and only in her darkest hours had she ever been without a familiar since.

"I have two familiars. Both were spirits at one time, who wished so dearly to draw near to me they incarnated into a physical form." Angrboda looked at Beck as she spoke, and blinked slow and languidly. Beneath the rush of water around them, the low, thrumming sound of purring filled the air. Beck leaned forward, and the feline pressed her forehead against her witch to nuzzle her softly. "Boda was much younger than Grani. A wisp of a moon spirit in the body of a little ferocious kitten. She found me as a young woman camping on the rocky shores of lake Isvegin. The sun never fully rises there, and in the darkest night the brilliance of the moon over the quiet water is said to drive the wicked to madness. I stayed there two months in awe of it, and she came to me. I tried to get her to return to the Dream Realm, but she wouldn't have any of it."

There was much more to that story. Perhaps one day she'd tell Yennefer about how she sought out the lake in hopes of healing her fractured spirit. How she swallowed so much rage over the years that the anger had molded itself into a vicious beast inside her own veins and threatened to boil her alive in her own skin. How she walked into the frigid waters in search of relief even if it meant her own death. And how the Moon had seen her across the great expanse---a living breathing incarnation of the Nature Spirit that the Moon so loved---suffering so intently, and could not stand it. She had taken a piece of herself and placed it into a clutch of owl eggs. Beck had found the egg cracked on the ground, but inside it there was no screeching owlet, only a crying kitten. Their bond had been almost instant as she cared for the little kitten, and a few months later, after they had long since left the rocky shores, Angrboda became her familiar. Boda shared in her memories of pain and neglect, and had taken the rage within herself.

It saved her life... but it made Angrboda a temperamental and powerful foe.

"Grani-" Beck motioned to the hawk flying languid circles in the sky above them, watching them on their path, "Came to me a few years before Boda. I was only sixteen? But he was much older. He had long since been capable of thought and magic in the Dream Realm when he came to me. I was wandering the fields near the ranch where I lived as a girl, before my father died. I was---lost, at the time. Not physically but, in my heart, you know? He fell from the sky in a blaze of light, turning from a hawk to a golden stallion." Beck laughed gently. "I don't think I had much of a choice in the matter. He had already chosen me. He's a sun spirit."

Another tragic tale that she'd dipped in gold to hide the dark truth. Another time her life had been saved. Her first familiar, Dawnbreaker, had been a sun spirit as well, and upon her brutal murder she had used the last of her power not to try and free herself, but to pull Grani from the Dream Realm. The death of a familiar is something few witches survive, and Beck certainly wouldn't have without Grani. He had waited two years for her to return to her homeland where he ruled over a massive herd of wild horses. He had left them all to another stallion to join her, and being with him helped stitch together the gaping wound left on her spirit in the wake of Dawnbreaker's death.

"We are all incarnations of different spirits, us three. The Moon, the Sun, and the Nature of this world. And we are all three connected to one another now, so thoroughly woven into each other there is no discerning where I end and they begin. Like wool that's been felted together. But it isn't just this way for me. This is how it is for all witches and their familiars."

Beck perched herself on the side of the boat and reached down. The ox spirit that tugged them along briefly formed its face from the fog and rose up to let her stroke it before dipping down into the water once more. It had settled nicely in the presence of three calm and powerful spirits.

"I wonder if the connection isn't deeper than you think." She said, watching Yennefer pull a living creature through space and time to rest on her finger for barely a breath, before sending it away. And yet the bird had not been alarmed. Beck could feel animals and their spirits, as well as the magic around her, and she hadn't felt any great force of will on Yennefer's part subjecting the animal to her will. There was magic involved, sure, but she couldn't help but wonder if the birds were so varied because only the willing answered the sorceress' call.

"If there is no real relationship, not even a spark of one, why is it always birds? Why do they not resist you?" She almost laughed at the thought. Yennefer wasn't a woman to be resisted. If her beauty was not enough to subdue someone, her will most certainly was. But she felt the question was worth pondering. "Magic is magic, no matter where you are, but the people who practice it cause its form to change shape so drastically. Blood changes that, I'm sure, but I wonder how much is really just a matter of perception?"

She shrugged, watching as Angrboda yawned and slunk off the canvas roof to go back inside the warm interior of the little vessel.

"But then again, what do I know? I was hardly a star pupil in school." Her fingers drummed a little beat on the side of the boat. "Anyway... We should reach the shore in about a week's time if we can keep a steady pace. You really don't have anyone you wish to speak to? I don't know when you'll be able to return."

[apocalyptic-byler]

thought about bill denbrough

[batgeance]

god bruce fucking hates talking to wayne execs and financial advisors

[femmeroi]

kill yourself faggot

Our relationship is rough right now, but in a few episodes we will be married.