#so I had a small crisis and ended up feeling some type of way

[hypodermicfroggy]

Light Pollution

I don't recognize the stars anymore.

Terrestrial life is one of changes It rises, it falls, it expands, it shrinks And while the stars are not immutable Their span is on a much longer scale

These lights above me are not the ones So constant and familiar That my two and four-legged ancestors both Could navigate their way back home by them

These lights are not the twinkling diamonds Born from the exhale of a warm sigh That captured the minds and hearts Of scientists and artisans for centuries

Their sparkle is cold, lifeless metal And impersonal binary. Yet these are not the capsules of my grandparents Crafted with hope and fear and passion

In a time when that vast black above Was not prime real estate to be simply colonized But a terrifying unknown to be respected As well as a new frontier to explore

These are cheap trinkets, baubles Manufactured en masse then left to rot A passing whim of a creator Who thinks himself a god of men But who has already grown bored Of his own toys like a child

They form a dirty choker around a blue wife's neck She has always been faithful to him Even while their heirs slowly poison her While he looks longingly at the mistress Dressed in her tempting shade of blood Waiting down a long and dangerous cosmic hallway

A new star attempts to rise and join its siblings Forced upwards by man's sheer will It rumbles, it roars, it streaks across the sky Searing red as something goes wrong

The chemical smell of fuel instead of wormwood.

Two hundred, five hundred A thousand years ago This would have been regarded as an omen A sign of the coming end of days.

But the true prophets have been blinded Their clear skies clouded by these false stars Placed by a false prophet, a man playing god A father of lies and broken promises of innovation

And so no one listens and heeds the warnings Until his stars come falling down A hundred thousand heralds burning bright Like the stars they pretended to be Revelations that are realized One minute too late

…I don't recognize the stars anymore.

[yanderestarangel]

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐌𝐊1 | "𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐀 𝐓𝐎𝐗𝐈𝐂 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐁𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄?"

TW: dark themes, toxic relationship, physical aggression, afab anatomy, stockholm syndrome, kidnapping, yandere themes, smut, nsfw.

｡˚☽˚｡⋆ SHANG TSUNG : You two met when he went to collect a debt from one of your neighbors in the small village where you lived with your family, he would ask if your neighbor was there, since he didn't answer the door, you would talk distractedly taking care of some flowers that I didn't know for sure, oh my, the wizard was already madly in love with you, he would ask for some water and then ask your name and then kiss the back of your hand leaving with some men. From then on, his life would be a real hell. He would research everything about you and your family, he would be the type who would first try to win you over like a normal person, but soon he would see that you didn't seem very interested in her, soon leading him to a plan B. - He would start threatening the owner of renting your house immediately increasing the monthly payment, leaving you and your family in complete despair, however, he appeared as a "great savior" giving the house to your family again, with one caveat, you would have to go out to dinner with he. Shang Tsung was very seductive, he would pick you up at home, dressed in beautiful gold and red royal attire, loose hair and extremely expensive perfume, he would know how to convince you to stay with him, telling you how lucky you were that he had bought your house, in no time you would be in his hands and with sweet words and some wine, he would be between your legs at the end of the night, fucking you hard and slapping your face.

You two start dating immediately, and it becomes hell in your life, Shang wouldn't let you go home anymore, you would practically live with him in his castle, all his henchmen from exoterra weren't even allowed to breathe near you, much less let you go out without him around. He would be busy with business but he would leave you beautiful and locked up in another shared house between the two of you - don't take him the wrong way, but he wouldn't feel comfortable leaving you in a house full of likely exits to run away and never come back to him again. -

He is well controlled, Shang really knows that you won't leave him, because in addition to having developed emotional dependence on you on purpose, he could kill your beloved family at any moment - perhaps he even did this before, so you could only have him, but just maybe- But every jealous crisis he has you will be fucked by her until you can no longer walk, he will sink into you without any mercy for your poor pussy, talking while he puts his dick in you with all his strength that you are a dirty slut who wants to give that pussy to anyone, and that only he can have your body and heart, whether you want it or not.

You wouldn't, like never, if you even dared to mention that you wanted to end the relationship you would see a family member of yours killed, by your boyfriend while he smiled insanely and asked if he heard what you meant to say correctly. He would also never break up with you, for him you are the only one in his life and will always be and if you try to run away he will find you and make your life hell, first of all you wouldn't even leave the exoterra, he literally has contact with You wouldn't even be able to get a ride to go as far as possible from exo terra and if you did, it would be one of contacts to pick you back up. You would soon realize that it wasn't the right way and you would panic seeing Shang Tsung just ahead waving happily to the driver. You would try to scream and then cry but there was nothing else you could do in that situation, he would take you home and soon he would have him by your side and kissing your neck, of course, with your wrist held by a pair of handcuffs on your wrist. At the head of the bed, he would lay his head on you, hugging you while your tears flowed : "-My love, you will never leave here, you will die here, whether you want it or not."

｡˚☽˚｡⋆ BI HAN : Please never have a relationship with this man, seriously darling, Bi Han is the type of man that you can't even breathe someone else's air and he will have a jealous crisis taking you both home - this man's crises are always happen with the two of you out - he wouldn't be shy and say that you were wearing too short clothes to go out and that's why you were at home - not because he was jealous because you simply smiled at the waiter after he gave you a drink - and After arriving home, the two of you would have extremely violent sex on Bi Han's part, he would record fucking your pussy from behind while pulling your hair - regardless of whether your hair was short or not, he is 6'1 tall, meaning he would reach your head calm down - and right after cumming inside you, his cum warmed your entrance recording the cum dripping from your pussy. He would also be extremely controlling with things related to your work, forget leaving the house after dating him, you only go out with him or if you are accompanied by a man he trusts from the Lin Kuei - Mainly Sektor - if he knows you left alone he would have an outbreak when he got home - let's say maybe, but just, maybe, he put a tracker on you, with the help of Sektor, specifically on your cell phone or maybe on yourself, this man is sick - and this outbreak it would generate an outcry from him, and you would only hear it silently, crying quietly, since the last time you raised your voice to him you left the mark of his hand on your face for 3 days. He's the type to punish you physically, he thinks you'll learn better from pain. Things like hitting you if you dare to raise your voice to him have become normal in his life, he also faithfully believes that hitting you is not wrong and will never apologize for the opposite, he will pretend nothing happened and have breakfast with you like a happy couple. Unlike the others on the list, there is no way not to notice the red flags in the relationship, you went into this knowing how problematic Bi Han was and thought you could change him in some way, you were mortally mistaken. If you tried to escape from your house he would find you in hell, the entire Lin Kuei would come after you, and deaths would happen because your dear boyfriend knows that you couldn't bear to see civilians dying because of you. Soon the grand master would see you come out of a small house in the village that you were hiding with your hands up, there were people looking at you shocked by everything and others dead on the ground as you passed, obviously all the witnesses would be neutralized. Bi Han hugged you tightly, placing kisses on your head as he carried you in his arms. "-I told you my love, you will never run away from me, you are my soulmate, have you forgotten? If you try to do something like that again, I swear I will slowly kill every person you love in this life."

｡˚☽˚｡⋆ JOHNNY CAGE: This man is a Labrador type, he is a cute man but when he wants to he can turn your life into hell. You met Johnny in one of his films, and he soon became very passionate and in a record amount of time you began to have a relationship, in the beginning it was always normal and respectful, but he has already shown some strange signs, like always asking what you smiled so much writing on your cell phone - which was ironic since he was always glued to his cell phone - which would generate a mini fight between the two of you with Johnny saying that he was afraid of losing you, that he couldn't live without you and that he would do anything To have you by his side, he's the type who will apologize for raising his voice in a fight but will try to justify why he did it. The man will go slowly, showing several red flags, such as expelling his friends from the house that was shared, saying that he had had enough of the noise and that he needed to rest from unlike your friends leaving a horrible atmosphere in the room. You looked at your boyfriend in disbelief as he opened the door and each of your friends came out awkwardly smiling in your direction, the argument between you would be heated with him calling you a slut in the process which would make the older man apologize soon after while you If you locked yourself in the bathroom, you would only make up when you left the room and saw Cage silently crying while looking at your photos. He really has problems with trust, he loves you and trusts you, but he can't say the same about his friends and the world in general, even with you being in his life for many years, he doesn't trust himself, you two would end up fucking with Johnny Cage beneath you talking about how he couldn't see his life without you, while you rode him and kissed him, the man's hips went in desperate rhythm as he saw the goddess that was you moaning on his dick, and oh my he could never lose you.

+ BONUS CHARACTER

｡˚☽˚｡⋆ KUAI LIANG : Kuai Liang is literally on the same level as Bi Han, seriously, maybe even worse. This man would lay eyes on you for the first time and soon become obsessed, in this context you would be a support soldier in the mission against Perseus, everything was supposed to be normal but you soon find yourself cornered by Kuai and his sick thoughts. The man wouldn't give you a choice, either you stay with him or you die, simple as that. He would first try to win you over by normal methods, like bringing flowers or inviting you to dinner and if you accepted, you would fall into his web of control. This relationship would be a prison, you couldn't leave this man's side and if you did it without authorization you would be punished, he would love to punish you with humiliation, making you suck his dick under the table while there is a very important meeting with the Lin Kuei or just you depriving you of wearing clothes at home, he would always, literally always, fuck you, the bastard knew how to break your mind, he knew how to have sex that made you cry while you trembled on his thick cock. During sex he would praise you saying how good you are for taking his dick so well in your pussy, you were already not feeling very well with everything that was happening, so a Stockholm syndrome bond was formed with the man, rightfully so. to you crying every time Kuai deprived you of contact. Well, I think that with all this there's no need to say how jealous he is, you're just his, it could have happened that a man who tried to buy you a drink turned up dead in some alley, he's not the type to hit you , but, he will do much worse things. You will never escape, forget that dear, he will put you in a house far away from everything and everyone with the security system high and to avoid the risk of an escape, so you just let the man take control of your life. Kuai Liang would arrive home and see you on the porch, sitting in a beautiful white flowy dress that showed off your cleavage all dressed up, you looked sadly at the forest landscape around you, life had already left your eyes, you were a soulless doll, Kuai's broken doll, he sat next to you, slowly placing you on his lap while running his hand through your soft hair, you were broken, Kuai Liang knew, but there was no going back.

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2033

[vinestaffery]

if I could request something I’d love hc’s on darkheart it’s completely fine if not though I loved ur illumina ones and thought you might be willing to do darkheart:)!

-🩶

darkheart x gender-neutral reader headcanons

content: slight jealousy themes; worshipping elements; romantic headcanons; established relationship; mentions of insecurity of body

authors note: i had actually started this writing a while back, but lost the draft after my computer shut down which caused a major meltdown and pause for me when writing. so sorry for the wait, tried retrieving as much info about the old writing before!

pulling darkheart was something that was completely off of your list. it was strange how such a man could fall for someone like you, but it didn't seem to affect you as much. he was just the same as you, just a few more advancements and such. but, that didn't stop you from loving each and every bit about him. he was so lovable, you couldn't take anyone else other then him repeatedly.

very poetic, but that type of corny poetic, the one where he'd try fluster you but it'd leave you embarrassed and giggling, those are the types of flirts he loves doing around you. hearing your laugh and such just motivates him everyday. he couldn't help but feel proud of himself whenever he got that one smile or laugh out of you just for him being him.

he would always blabber about you to the other deities, sometimes even pissing them off because of how much he just talked about you!! oh he was overjoyed to have you as a partner, i mean, who wouldn't?

he NEVER struggled with affection, unless he wasn't in the certain mood to take it in. but, when hes not in an angry and a type of mood where you'd back off but still cherish his presence, he is the biggest cuddle bear possible. he picks you up, swings you around before embracing you. he were to be acting as if he hasn't seen you after a war! but, it always felt nice to feel him wrap his arms around him and question about your day.

always a gifter, specifically a strange gifter, but you love the little things he sees you in. sometimes, he'd bring you glass-stones or shiny material, it reminded you of a crow! he'd always deliver them by the door whenever he can or window, surprising you with the strangest of gifts. he found it ever so enchanting to see just figments of you in every little tiny thing, settling his interest only on delivering it to you. you have even dedicated this small thing of his to a whole array of ornaments! you just loved his little knick knacks and his lovable, dumb head.

sometimes, you'd play around with him and give him some sort of worshipping-type feeling. it never failed him to fluster or embarrass him, but it all for jokes (nothing sexual) that he tends to do with you! sometimes, he'd worship you in a lovable way, sometimes making the smallest of gestures. but, he does this MOSTLY whenever your insecure of yourself.

you have a tummy? who cares! he loves that shit. you got a small chest and believe you don't represent too much? don't you dare say that! your more then anything! your struggling with some identity issues and crisis's? dont worry, he'll be right there to tell you its completely okay, and that he sees you for who you are. he is so accepting and he'll take that to the grave!

sometimes, he struggles to get some sleep. for some guy, he really doesn't know how sleeping with someone works. sometimes, you can feel his legs tangle with yours, but he'd shy away and apologise. you'd end up tangling yours with his. sometimes, his wings may be the worst case for him, but that doesn't stop you from trying your best to help out.

this guy really likes weight ontop of him (self indulgence here, apologies!!!), so please do whatever you can to give him that weight. you want to just lay on him? go right ahead! he'd love that shit. he'll wrap his arm around you and just hold you close.

a great cook, but also a goofster with it too. sometimes, he'll make the cooking look a bittt funky, but that doesn't stop him from making the gourmet dishes. but, sometimes, he may make something thats... a bit strange. not to recall, that one kitchen incident you both had once!

i know i said this with illumina's one, but he would also do the one where he'd put his chin on your head and relax. he does this mostly to peeve off other robloxians that may interact with you. he doesn't do this because he's jealous (he does) but mostly to tell everyone that YOU are HIS! you are his for keeping!

corny nicknames!!! sometimes you call him your goober and he calls you his little shmoopy. he is always keen on other nicknames, but shmoopy is such a heart resonator for you and him. sometimes, he says it in public and it's the only way to catch your attention.

i hope these were good enough!! i was a bit tired but otherwise, i hope you enjoyed these..!!

[yuri-is-online]

Well, since you are feeling festive and so am I, could I have request a fic with Ortho? Just doing a little holiday decorating or some other tradition with a homesick prefect? I don’t know, I just imagine Ortho to be the type to be interested in holiday traditions from another world. Thanks!

Oh hell yeah this slaps. Originally I was going to write about tree decorating but then I had a thought and I didn't want the fic to come off as me info dumping for however many words. I hope this is something like what you had in mind, and happy holidays!

notes: they/them used for Yuu, Ortho is the main focus here but the other first years are mentioned, Yuu and Ortho decide to play Santa. I would absolutely love to hear about any personal holiday traditions of yours, dear reader, as I think those are always very interesting. As always, other fic can be found on my masterlist here.

Christmas. Ortho had searched multiple websites, data banks, and even online journals to see if he could find any mention of such a word outside of the few instances he has heard it muttered by the prefect. He initially thought his searches weren't bearing fruit because Yuu pronounced it several different ways (Chrimis, Crisis, Chrysler???) but he has ultimately concluded those were likely jokes based off of their tone of voice.

That had been what finally made him ask, not even his brother liked laughing at his jokes alone.

"Oh that's one of the big winter holidays in my world." You had told him, trying to sound matter of fact but unable to hide the way your voice cracks with the strain of your homesickness. "I made the mistake of trying to remember a nursery rhyme while Grim was around and ended up telling him about Christmas stockings and now he wants one."

And now you have to explain the concept to him, but with much less pressure as Ortho listens carefully with growing excitement.

"Putting presents in socks! That's really silly but I suppose that there are some holidays here you might find really weird too huh?" Ortho can also see why Grim would be so excited about this particular tradition, a gift (in a sock or no) that has the potential to be made up entirely of candy, fruits, and other foodstuffs sounds very much like him. "So do we just need to find Grim some socks he fits in? You already have a fireplace to hang it on... or are you thinking about giving Grim coal?"

“Well-”  It had crossed your mind.  “Sometimes adults give chocolate that’s shaped like coal but that’s not really what’s bothering me.  You don’t usually use socks for this, you make these really big fake socks.  I wanted to make one for Grim, but while I was thinking about how I wanted to decorate it I sort of… thought it would be nice to make stockings for the others, y’know like Ace and Deuce and maaaybe Jack, but then I would need to explain it to them and I don’t want to do that.”

“Oh that’s easy, we just won’t.”  Ortho laughs and takes your hand to eagerly drag you towards Sam’s before you can question just what he means by “we.”   ~~~~ "Operation sock jaw is a go." Ortho mimics rubbing his hands together gleefully, his lab wear feeling deeply out of place in the unofficial official Ramshackle craft room. A small pile of carefully picked out fabrics and season appropriate accents are neatly folded at the corner of the table as you carefully trace out what you think resembles a pattern for a Christmas stocking as Ortho carefully watches.

"You have really good aesthetic tastes," you nod as you look over the drawings Ortho had provided "this one really matches Ace's clown vibes."

"I'm glad you like it!" He laughs. "I figured a harlequin pattern in Heartslabyul colors suited him perfectly! Deuce was a bit harder to figure out... I didn't just want to slap a playing card on it and call it a day. Jack was a bit easier with how often he searches for information on cacti and succulent care. Oh I can cut the cacti out of the felt if you like?"

"With scissors?" You tentatively ask, not entirely sure how your dorm would hold up if he decides to break out the lasers. But the suggestion seems to flatter Ortho rather than annoy him.

"Oh that'd be fun! I've never really had the need to use normie tools before, this will be just like..." his voice briefly trails off as he looks down at the scissors. You wonder if he is capable of zoning out, being a robot and all, but decide that isn't too far out of the realm of possibility as his next words come out in a stutter. "Hey Yuu, does this sort of feel like an anime to you?" It's not too unexpected a question for Ortho to ask, so you look down at your crafts and really try to think about an answer.

"I guess so?" You gently place the pieces you have cut for Ace's stocking down so you can look out at the snow blanketing the world outside your window. The scene isn't too different than one you might see in your world on a card. But then again- "There's a lot of tropes associated with Christmas in anime, there's an entire genre of weird rom com movies about it, so yeah I guess making crafts like this with you does sort of feel like something I would see in an anime?"

"I thought so!" Ortho happily begins to carefully cut the felt with the scissors, mimicking what he had seen you do with the little tuna fish for Grim's stocking earlier. "That makes me glad, if something is a common enough for people to fantasize about it in an anime, then it has to be really important to the people of your world. And yet no matter where I search I will never be able to find data about it in mine!"

"Doesn't that annoy you a little?" It would stress you, does stress you how familiar and yet distant Twisted Wonderland's traditions are to your own. But the smile Ortho gives you is one of such genuine excitement you feel at least a little of that stress fall away.

"It scared me at first, but then when I got my soul I realized that it meant I had a really good excuse to keep talking to you. More data is never a bad thing! You could give me and my brother ideas for a truly unique game or show, so please, tell me everything you can remember about your world. I'll make sure it's remembered." He means every word he says. It's enough to make you cry.

"Alright, but just remember you asked for it. Where to start?"

[onceonafullmoon]

Hi, could you please tell us a bit more about Tsundere/Yandere Fumus? I saw what you wrote about Tsundere/Yandere Fumus, and I was curious if you had thought of anything. I really like your writing and I hope I'm not bothering you. Sorry for any mistakes, English is not my first language.

Me when I get to talk about an awful man: 😈 (also these are leaning more towards yan then tsun, so sorry about that)

Yandere Fumus x GN! Reader HCs

Tw!! Violence/torture towards reader and other characters, manipulation (guilt tripping) and non-con mentions

Well, firstly, you’re fucked. But you already knew that, didn’t you?

You’d probably meet through being affiliated with someone else, like Satanick or Taffy, rather than meeting Fumus head on.

See, he’s a bit of the asshole curious type like that, always wanting to know what his toys are amusing themselves with.

When you think about it, it's kinda like a child who only wants to play with his peers toys, but more unhinged and fucked up

Either way, despite their wishes, he’ll either stumble across you or go out of his way to visit you.

You wouldn't think much when you do meet him, he's not outwardly threatening compared like others you might have met. In fact, with the way he seems to disregard your presence enirely, like he's above you, you'd probably just think of him as some typical asshole, the only unsettling thing about him bring those piercing violet eyes of his.

Its only when you turn to see your affilates reaction of utter horror and dread that you realize something is terribly wrong.

When he leaves, you try to pry into what they're so worried about, but whether through straight dismissal (Taffy) or dancing around the topic (Satanick) neither will answer you head on.

Anyways, with Fumus's growing interest in you, you can't really afford to worry about either of them, his visits growing more frequent and that same oppressive feeling growing greater as they do.

It won't be long until you find yourself in his domain, the stench of cleaning products permeating the air.

And is that blood you see in the corner?

Your first few visits will ineviably end in screaming and crying, blood splattered on almost every surface of his office, the same loving treatment Fumus gives all his toys.

You might try to reach out to find help during this time, only to be dismissed entirely by Satanick with a helpless grin or a rather unfortunate response of "it never hurts as much the first time" from Taffy.

You could also try to escape... but running from a God is pointless, which you'll find out through bruises, or if you're particularly unlucky, broken bones.

Meanwhile, Fumus is going through somewhat of a... crisis... on his part as well.

See he only meant to play with you out of curiosity... but now... maybe its your sweet crying face, or the withering glares you send his way... there's just something about you that he can't get out of his mind.

And at first he doesn't think about it, he'd always been a bit obsessive with his toys anyways

But then he sees you talking with one of his angels, a small smile on your face, and he can't help the surge of fury that courses through him.

Both because he hates the idea of you with anyone else and because he realizes what this jealousy means for him despite his self insistance of not wanting a "relationship".

Albeit this notion of a relationship is highly onesided.

That afternoon, he's very busy with his scissors, repeatedly plunging them in and out of the poor angel's body.

And that night, he finds himself busy helping himself to your body too, albeit in a different way, despite your protests and struggles

Distantly he wishes he could take a picture of you, looking ruined for him, until he realizes he could have this sight every night if he choosed so.

Luckily for everyone else, and unfortunately for you, at the discovery of his newfound "feelings", he spends more time tormenting you.

Albeit this time his methods are more... pleasureable than his previous ones, though you might find that worse than being tortured based on how you see it.

Its simple enough to keep you from leaving him consequently, even without him having to exert his power.

Just a simple, playful, remark about how lonely he'd be if you left, that he'd have to subsitute you with his precious little angels, and suddenly you're hesitating on carrying out that escape plan.

Not that it would have worked anyways mind you... perhaps next him he catches wind of a new plan he'll just invite you to watch him have fun with Taffy.

In all, attracting Fumus is the worst mistake you could have unknowingly commited, and now you have to deal with the torture of being damned to a god.

[pink-strawberry-kissess]

sending in my first ask woot woot 🥳

okok so since rereading your aeon pregnancy au fic i can't help but think about the twins all grown up living their best lives with the coolest aeon parents until we get to their preteen/teenage years.

annnnnnnd i leave you with this ask: do you have any hcs about soft twin going through a little rebellious phase when she's older??? 👀

(yes yes this ask is for soft twin porque ella es preciosa, and we need more hcs for soft twin!!!)

idk why but i keep leaning towards soft twin acting out after her classmates made her feel a certain way for not being ‘cool enough’ like her sis. maybe soft twin isn't used to hearing those comments about her when she's so used to being praised as a good kid compared to her sis (not that she would ever listen to those praises or agree w/anyone who talks bad about her fam >:(

and now that she’s older, soft twin suddenly gets the complete opposite experience from fighty twin at school.

maybe the comments from her peers make soft twin have a mini identity crisis for being a 'goody two-shoes'? maybe she tries smth out of character partly to prove them wrong, partly to explore other sides of her personality she never really got to explore as a kid?

ANYWAYS what do you think would be soft twin's first 'rebellious act'? would fighty twin be involved somehow? how would soft twin feel after it happens? would she try smth like it again? how would Ada and Leon react to all of this???

dis for you hehe

ALSO I SWEAR YOU HAVE SENT ME ONE BEFORE but

yayayya

OMG A REREAD i should probably do that myself lol find more spelling and grammar errors i've left in there by accident sjkfbskjfksbf

YES YES I HAVE SO MANY IDEAS but since nothing is canon in my head, i just have THEORIES. AEON TWINS THEORIES.

YES THERE ISN'T ENOUGH LOVE FOR SOFT TWIN i also have wonder if people already know which is which lol

i like to think she has a small one, mostly in her early teens. probably earlier than fighty twin has a rebellious phase. but i haven't really thought about what she would fight about lol

AH YES YES i see what you mean. i do think they're both very smart. i mean they have leon and ada as their parents, you KNOW they're gonna be all types of smart. i do think that soft twin can be a lil clumsy sometimes. she's shy and quiet and just generally deemed the awkward one since she's not as open to being extroverted like fighty twin

I FEEL LIKE even if she were to rebel.. she would do it in the way that like. introverted kids do. either something extreme like a overt personality change... OR she just runs and hides.

i can see her finding herself just needing to escape. but ofc ada finds her. she doesn't make herself known right away but allows leon to talk to her. i do think that soft twin is a daddy's girl and although she loves ada. she just needs to softness of leon when she needs comfort. with ada, she does get some but sometimes she needs the lovely dovey kind. almost smothering lol

i don't see ada being overbearing or smothering her

SORRY MY THOUGHTS ARE EVERYWHERE AND IM NOT PROOFREADING THIS LOL

i can DEF SEE her chopping her hair short. i like to think that ada keeps the girls hair long since she sees it as a privilege that she never had. something something about safety but also just being allowed to be a girls girl lol. soft twin probably has a really big attachment to her long hair and ends up just chopping it all off at some point

she regrets it and spends a few years growing it back out lol

I DUNNO I HAVE ALOT OF THOUGHTS STILL

[maikissed]

little dove

Richarlison x reader

part 2 for i've got my eye on you part 1 is here

It's pretty long but i love to get into them detailssss. I kinda hate it and I kinda love it, idk, hope you'll enjoy it 🫶🏼 Sorry for any typos. warnings: some smut (+18)

To say that you were nervous about meeting Richarlison after that memorable party would be an understatement. You almost told him to piss off just because you were terrified of the effect he had on you that night. It all hit you hard after you sobered up, when you remembered how easily he could make you hot and bothered. And you were reminiscing how you nearly gave in to the needs of your body, completety turning off the common sense, and dragged him to a private space to have your way with him. It might have been your drunk state, but you’ve never acted this way. This wasn’t a good sign. And you were going mental. To be honest, you didn’t expect that he’ll reach out to you.

Nevertheless you agreed to meet with him. But you did not call it a date.

It’s been a month since you've started seeing each other and you truthfully enjoyed the time you’ve been spending together. You and Sheira even attented one of his matches and you didn’t expect that a football game could be so exciting as you were cheering and analysing everything that was happening on the pitch. Richarlison even waved at you at the end of the match and you waved back feeling overjoyed.

“So, you’re like a wag now?” Sheira asked when you were leaving the stands.

“Stop talking” you send her a disapproving look.

“You’re mean, you know that?” she laughed at your reaction.

She will never stop teasing you about it.

Richarlison was driving you home after you went to the movies together and an unexpected rush of confidence made you ask him if he’d like to come in. As you were quite a private person you felt a little nervous about intiving him to your little sanctuary but you were eager to spend some more time with this boy.

 “I think it was really sad in it’s simplicity. A shattering picture of existencial crisis and the futility of tommorow” you reffered to the movie you've watched while opening the door to your apartment.

“Yeah, it was really moving” he commented following you in.

“You didn’t like it” you smiled at him observing his reaction.

“No, it’s not like that, it’s just not my type of cinema. But it was nice to watch something different”

“Alright then” you nodded unconvinced but let the subject go “Would you like something to drink? I can make you my famous sweet tea” you asked entering the kitchen.

You felt yourself becoming nervous again, it was the first time of you two being alone since that party and it made you panic inside a bit.

“Sure” he answered taking a look around your little salon “You have a lot of paintings. Who made them?”

“I did”

“Oh, so you’re an artist?” he gave you an impressed look and you smiled while placing the cups on the kitches island.

“Kind of. I paint in my free time just to clear my head. They’re just for me though, it’s not like I’m a professional”

“It’s really good, you’re talented. I like this one” he pointed to a painting of a woman floating in deep ocean waters surrounded by the breaking through rays of the sun.

You made that one during a very specific time in your life and you were very devoted to it so your heart warmed up a little hearing words of appreciation from him.

“Thank you, I think this picture had been created the longest”

He sat down on the sofa placed right infront of the small kitchen so he was facing you.

“I almost failed my art class in school once” he murmured scratching his head.

“What? How?” you laughed in disbelief catching sight of his kinda embarrased appearance.

“My uncle was the teacher and I guess I felt too comfortable” he laughed with you.

“Wow” you shook your head still laughing under your breath “To fail an art class in school is quite a feat”

“Yeah, I was a horrible student”

You focused on making the tea and the room went silent for a few seconds. You suddenly felt his heavy gaze on you and looked up meeting his dark piercing gaze from across the room. You smiled shyly feeling your limbs go rigid.

“Quit looking at me like that, Richarlison”

“Like what?” he smirked smugly and his eyes lit up.

“Like you’re looking right now” you countered biting your lip.

“I’m just looking y/n” he shrugged toying with you and you rolled you eyes taking the tea cups and approached the place he sat at to place them on a coffee table.

You then sat on a fotel on the other side and noticed an amused expression forming on his face.

“What?”

“You’re just sitting so far” he murmured smirking at you and your heart skipped a beat.

You moved to sit on the other end of the sofa with one of your legs bent at the knee to face him comfortably.

“Am I making you nervous y/n?” you heard him say lowly and you almost choked on your tea.

Of course he was fucking making you nervous right now. You were trying to keep your distance to not loose your mind in his pressence. But it was immensely difficult, especially when he was looking at you with those big eyes. You wanted him so badly that it scared you. But you took the challenge and moved closer to him, your knee almost touching his thigh.

“You’re so full of yourself, Richarlison” you joked sneeringly and put the tea back at the table.

He laughed putting his arm on the back of the sofa not leaving his eyes off your form.

“Just admit it”

Your eyes widened in disbelief of his teasing. Oh, if he won’t stop right now you’re going to strike him.

“You are not making me nervous” you protested feeling your cheeks heating up.

You were trying to keep your cool to not feed his already huge ego further but your body language was showing off completely different signs. You felt tense and the beating of your heart quickened sharply, shallowing your breath. The least you could do was not breaking the eye contact. You had to quit acting all shy to break this little entertainment of his.

“Then come closer” he dared quietly and you stiffened.

You were already sitting right next to each other, your legs almost touching. You considered your next move and swallowed hard. Then you just simply rised up, placing your leg on the other side of his body and sat on his thighs suprising yourself by your sudden surge of confidence. The material of your short tennis skirt rised up slighty and there was no turning back now. A wave of heat flooded your body.

“Is that better?” you asked in a soft tone.

Richarlison placed his hands gently on your hips and slowly moved you closer, your pelvises touched and you involuntarily placed your palms on his chest, feeling startled. Butterflies erupted in your tummy and you exhaled sharply. And you were loosing your mind.

“Now it’s better” he murmured studying your face intensively “Is it making you uncomfortable?” he asked trying to make sure that you were okay with it or to just play with you some more.

“No” you denied trying to not go crazy over the feeling of the sharp material of his pants in contact with your bare inner thighs.

Just a few thin layers of clothes were separating you from him. Your lids started to feel heavy when you focused on a feeling of arousal slowly building inside of you. You could feel a wet patch forming in your panties and you swallowed back a whimper focusing your gaze on your hands still placed on his chest. When you looked up you noticed him still focused on your face, as if drinking in your little reactions, no doubt visible on your expression. And then, slowly, he looked down at the place where your bodies touched. Under your palms you could feel him intake a big breath and the excitation made you finally act up. You took your hands off his body to place them on top of his hands that were still gripping your hips lightly and rolled your hips back and then forward, rutting against him. The sensation felt like a shot of electricity piercing your body and so you moved again. His grip on you tightened and you noticed his adam’s apple bobbed slowly. Your moves where tantalizingly slow and you were loosing yourself in this intimate moment. When you connected your pelvises once more you could feel hardness forming in his pants and when it slid right between your labia a soft moan escaped your mouth uncontrollably. It made you quicken up your pace. Richarlison grunted throwing his head back, his brows furrowed as he swallowed hard. Every move you made elicited another soft high moan from you and your mind was racing, your hands slightly shaking as the pleasure kept taking control of your body.

“Stop or I’m gonna come in my pants” his voice came off raspy and his eyes darkened as he took in the look on your face, delighted by the sound of your little moans.

He grabbed your waist and lifted you up to break the contact. You whined in protest.

“Are you trying to make a mess, y/n?” he teased granting you a cheeky smile.

You desperatly wanted to kiss him now but he had other ideas.

“Lay down on the carpet” he instructed trying to get you off him.

You shot him a perplexed look but did as he said. He joined you shortly after, towering over you, looking deeply in your eyes and hummed satisfied with your eager state. You leaned into his touch when he grabbed your cheek delicately. Keeping the eye contact you brought your lips to his thumb and slowly, very slowly, sucked it inside your mouth.

“Fuck” he cursed focusing on your action and you purred closing your eyes.

Oh, you wanted him to devour you. It was magical to finally have him so close, but it was not close enough. Your wanton body started to writhe underneath him waiting for more, desiring more.

Then he took his finger off your mouth and closed the distance to finally kiss you. You moaned into his mouth the moment your lips touched, feeling your stomach tighten, and you thrown your hands over his neck trying to pull him as close as you could. His kiss felt so heavenly it made your heart squish. His fingers slowly traced a line down your throat and stopped at the first button of your shirt. After undoing the last button he pushed aways the layers of the garment away to expose your delicate lacy bra and you grasped his bicep when his gentle fingers started to trace patterns over your bare stomach. He placed a kiss near your belly button and you jumped slightly feeling overwhelmed by his caress.

“Relax, baby” he murmured and his hot breath fanned over your skin.

“Mhm” you grunted with your eyes closed.

Then he moved to unzip your skirt and after taking the garment off you heard him hum in amusement.

“So that’s the famous tattoo” he pointed stroking a little dove tattoo placed next to your hip bone with his thumb “It’s a dove”

You smiled widely at him and a giggle escaped your lips when the realisation of what it meant hit you. You went to get it made shortly after you turned 18 and it was the only tattoo that you had.

“Well, lucky you” you said cheekily before he bend down to place a soft kiss on it.

Shortly after he took off your thong exposing your dripping cunt to his hungered sight and he groaned noticing how aroused and ready for him you were. You exhaled hard in anticipation and looked down the moment you felt his breath on your inner thigh. He maintained the eye contact slowly going lower. The sight of him going down on you made you feel hazy and your legs tried to squish together on reflex but he was quicker, grasping your thighs; keeping you open widely for him. The moment his breath hit your core your head fell back down on the carpet and your hips bucked up desperate for him to finally do something. He put his palm on your stomach to keep you down and placed a butterfly kiss on your labia. You cried out quietly as a sudden wave of tingles spread over your limbs, reaching even your fingertips.

He’s going to drive you mad, that’s for sure.

Richarlison started to stroke your core with his tongue and your moans intensified, your back arched off the floor and you brought your hands to his head trying to keep him as close as you could to fulfill your needs. You were at his mercy, writhing and whimpering, his name falling off your lips like a prayer. He groaned aroused by the way your body was responding to the pleasure he was giving you and you cried out loudly as you felt the vibrations fondle your sweet spot. He then lapped at yout cunt roughly and your whole body jolted making you almost choke on your moan. Your muscles tightened and your sight went blank as you came all over his face abruptly, feeling your walls pulsating with waves of your orgasm. You were breathing fast and your legs were shaking and you blinked slowly to bring back your focus. Richarlison raised his head with that beautiful glint in his eyes and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, returning back up to you. You bit your lip mesmerized by the look of his swollen lips and cheeks covered in a light rosy pink color.  

“How are you feeling?” he asked kissing your collarbones as you were still trying to calm your body.

“Amazing, thank you” you answered quietly grinning happily.

“You’re welcome” he chuckled warmly and you brought his head down by placing your hand on his neck to connect your lips in a sweet and long kiss.

You couldn’t get enough of each other, being so enraptured in one another and so astonishingly horny that you’ve spent the whole night fucking in your bed, then in the shower and then even on the kitchen counter as you went to make something to eat. Let’s just say that you haven’t any idea that you could have so many orgasms in one night.

_

why do i feel like it's shitty oh god and i’m still laughing at this dove idea

[little-engineer-who-cant]

Jason has an identity crisis, tries to fuck his way out of all his feelings and fails miserably.

Part 1 of Sirens Scream Names Forgotten by Tomorrow, Laid to Rest in Infinity

(also posted under cut)

“Be kind to the jaded souls, the ones with jagged edges and bones weary and crumbling. Be gentle with them not because you may break them to pieces with one wrong touch, not because you may cut yourself on their serrated fingers, but because the world has never known to be gentle with them. Because they have never known to be gentle with themselves.”

- don’t you think they’ve suffered enough? (j.p.)

It’s easy to slip away from that warehouse in the chaos of his own trap springing, leaving the hero and his newest child soldier with nothing but his laughter ringing in their ears. For all of Batman’s tech, his strength, his mind, there’s no way for a living and breathing man to track a phantom that doesn’t want to be found. Dead men tell no tales and all that.

(Oh, but you do.)

That part hadn’t been planned, but he’s more than a little smug about handling it as smoothly as he did. Even unprepared, there was just too much that he knew about Bruce and wasn’t that just unsettling to old Batsie?

(You wanted him to know you, didn’t you? Wanted him to see past the mask.)

(Shut up, it’s not time.)

A wrench like Bruce had a certain amount of unpredictability, that was true. Humans usually did. But to fucking show up personally for a seemingly small potatoes villain like him and not just send that little shit of a replacement Robin like he’d been anticipating… you’ve changed your game a bit, huh old man? No, he’s apparently now made just enough of a name for himself that the Bat himself wanted to talk. At least the talking part hadn't changed. Same as always, it was about the smokescreen, the show. The act of making Bruce feel better about himself, like he had tried to deescalate the situation but any violence that resulted was always someone else’s fault. Never his. They all forced his hand, you see?

(Like you’re trying to now.)

What a fucking joke , like the old man would ever say something worth hearing. Trying to be reasonable, through heavy handed threats of grievous bodily harm, how the fuck did I ever go along with that? Being a child was only so much of an excuse. He’d been old enough then to understand the words that were being thrown about, he’d just been too caught up in being the Robin to Batman that he hadn’t cared about the meanings like he does now. Being on the receiving end makes him look more closely at this warped funhouse mirror that’s become his… life? Unlife? 

Whatever. The specifics of his… situation … are too complicated to parse through his feelings on those right now. Not when all he wants to do is take his now warm and living fist and slam it into Bruce’s face for having the fucking nerve to bring another child into this, like Jason meant nothing. Just the first body in a God knows how long of a line of them to come. Some kind of demented conga line of dead birds; maybe he’s more like the Joker than he wants to think he is and that thought makes him snort a bitter huff of amusement under his breath then grimace at the ache in his ribs. 

(He’s a vampire bat, maybe, they feed on birds.)

(Fuck.)

That’s a whole other can of worms that he is not looking into right now. Bad enough his carcass was replaced so easily. Even worse if it was planned.

If he goes down that line of thought, he might light this whole city on fire and leave Bruce screaming in the ashes, bleeding out from a thousand cuts. 

No, no, no, he’s got a plan already and that’s bleeding this city dry and watching Bruce try to desperately revive its picked over cadaver the way he never tried to revive Jason’s before he gives the old shit the mercy of a bullet-

(Maybe you’re the vampire.)

-just because that’s justice . And that’s all the Batman’s after, right? All he’s ever been after, if all the lines he fed to his Robins-

(His food-)

-could be believed. 

(Chewed you up and spit you in the ground, he’ll do it again and again-)

His fist raps the alley wall a few times, enough to sting and drive back the looming cloud that threatens to swirl around and become a living typhoon. There’ll be blood under his gloves from how tight he’s clenched his fist, splitting open old wounds, but that’s fine. What’s blood loss going to do? Kill him? He’s no stranger to handling a bruise or a hundred, that’s par for the course in his life now. Has been for years. A couple cracked ribs and some bloody knuckles are not going to slow him down. 

No, what really fucking stings is whatever is left in that cavity inside his chest, the hole that he used to think was patched when Bruce brought him into that huge house, when Alfred smiled and snuck him cookies. 

(That was the fucking dream, wasn’t it? Warm house, warm food, then you get the shit beat out of you to go fight crime.)

Turnabout is fair play and all that nonsense.

The side of his fist finds that same brick wall but he doesn’t smash into it, just rests his gloved knuckles against the abrasive surface. No use breaking his hand for a momentary fit of rage, it won’t help anything and he needs to keep his head on straight. There’s a plan here and he hasn’t gotten this far by losing his cool. It’s just a grounding point that he presses against, one that won’t crumble no matter how hard he shoves. It’s exactly what he needs because God knows there isn’t a person he can take this out on-

(Yes there is.)

(Shut up.) 

But his body turns towards his magnetic north anyways and he doesn’t stop it. It was a token protest anyways. Truth will out and all that bullshit. Well, Batman didn’t get the truth tonight but someone else will. Someone else will look this horrid amalgamation in the eye and either run or treat him just as gingerly as Talia did. Like the weapon he’d spent so long honing himself to be, the monster he’d welcomed into that place that-

That still hurts. It still hurts, in that cavity inside. The part he never thought had a chance in hell of crawling out of that hole and back into his sad sack of a meat suit. Jason Todd went into the ground a whole boy, the Red Hood emerged a warped reimagining of that little corpse, grown strong and tough and-

(And you failed.)

One day, he’d finish that fucking clown. One day, he’d dig the bastard a pit to Hell next to what used to be Jason Todd’s grave, but first, he had a bigger score to settle. In the end, in the here and now, this wasn’t about the Joker or even about Jason fucking dying. It was about Tim goddamn Drake.

Because what had changed, really? What changed? Nothing. He’s died and come back, he’s been buried and dug himself out with his fucking belt buckle and nothing changed. Not even Robin changed. Tim Drake is just another child following Bruce, spouting his words, punching the people Bruce points at and all of them, both of us, were just replacements for Dick who was a replacement for the family Bruce lost. And none of them ever lived up to it, I died trying to be that and still failed to do that right-

It’s as easy as breathing, though that’s a little painful right now, slipping up the wire-frame fire escape in the darkness. Never change, Gotham, never change. A last sweeping look over the city confirms that he’s alone. Or as alone as a log ever gets in a stacked fire pit, waiting for a match to drop. Or maybe this city’s already smoldering and he’s trying to frantically pour water on it.

(If water is gasoline maybe. Then you’d be God.)

(Shut. Up.)

His ribs ache as he slips into her apartment through a once locking window, confident no one is following him, not even the little shit in a stolen suit who’d tried so hard to get the drop on him. But the kid is just that, still a kid. Jason’s been in the game for a long time, not even Bruce knows how far his reach in Gotham goes now. This isn’t Batman’s city anymore, it’s Red Hood’s. It’s his. Bruce may fight crime, but Jason grew up embedded in it. He knows it in a way Bruce and his silver spoon never will, no matter how he studies its occupants. Because he isn’t one of them like Jason is. To a grown gutter urchin, these streets are home, their busted lights a balm to his soul, the screams of brakes and people alike a familiar lullaby. Even the muted throbbing in his face is familiar, almost a comfort of home. It’s certainly not the worst hit he’s ever taken, even discounting the obvious comparison.

Her bedroom is empty like he knew it would be. It’s Friday, she doesn’t work tomorrow and it’s not even that late. Barely past eleven. Really, he’s impressed with himself, taking an early night off. His ribs will hurt like a bitch tomorrow and his cheek might be fractured from the stupid kid’s pretty solid punch before he split, but the mask did it’s job, taking most of what might have otherwise knocked him down. And he’d left the Bat and his replacement-

(God damn you, did I ever mean anything to you besides being the means to your end?)

-frazzled and afraid. A few more steps in this grand plan and the truth would come out, the web he’d been weaving around The World’s Greatest Detective would close and there would be no way out. Either Bruce would pull the trigger, or Jason would. If you pull it old man, it might not stick. Is that what you want?  

At this point he doesn’t know who he’s talking to, his imaginary Bruce or himself.

Where is she? He needs a distraction from these swirling thoughts, a way out of the growing labyrinth in his head. She’s always been that since he found her, a light in the dark, a soothing balm over an open wound. She’s not part of this world, with its shrouds and lies and agendas, she’s just a girl living her life and unfortunate enough to have found the devil on her doorstep. 

Crazy enough to have let him in, despite all the warning signs.

The whisper soft humming from the dark abyss beyond the doorway echoes in his ears like a siren song, alerting him to her location and he smiles under the mask. Drawing him into her embrace again, the only comfort he had that didn’t come from watching the life leave someone’s eyes. The only warmth he felt that didn’t involve him being elbow deep in someone’s chest cavity to feel it, didn’t need a slit artery or have a-

(bomb as my pyre, feeling flesh melt, unable to move, unable to scream-)

-match burning down to his fingertips just to feel something other than apathy and bone melting rage. 

He watches her from the doorway, silent and shadowed. There’s no moon tonight, no star bright enough to turn on him and expose his presence or even grace him with a shadow of his own. No streetlights. She’s an office worker, not a millionaire, so she’s not in the part of the city where they keep replacing those when they inevitably get shot out. But the shirt she’s wearing is light grey, mine, she’s wearing my… Jason’s shirt, and the walking shell of Jason Todd isn’t the one who watches it float around the room like a ghost, flickering at the hem in time with the movement of her legs, the back vanishing and reappearing in time with the swinging of her loose braid.

Blue light washes over her face, staining her lips as she clicks on the kettle. It takes every ounce of his considerable self control not to stalk over, not to press his fingers, mouth, entire being against those lips to make sure they’re warm with life and breath, not washed out and cold like a corpse. He’s seen too many, he’s made even more-

(you’ve been one too, don’t you remember what it was like trying to move those stiff limbs? It took you hours to feel again, trapped in that box-)

-and if there is one certainty in life it’s that if she keeps welcoming into her sanctuary, she’ll be another one to add to the list of his sins. His hands aren’t clean and she isn’t safe. This was a mistake, he should not have come here, he should have done what he usually does. Rampage around another supervillain or five for old times sake. Grit his teeth and put his shoulder back to the grindstone to burrow his way deeper into Gotham’s underworld, chiseling away at the Batman’s iron grip until he replaces it with his titanium one instead. But no, he’s an idiot . So, he’s here, in her apartment in the dead of night, uninvited.

Jason Todd, the shy and uncomfortable man she met at a fun little nightclub, is not watching her. 

The Red Hood, Gotham’s latest war dog, is.

(Is he?) 

Sometimes, he wonders if there’s a difference anymore but it doesn’t matter right now. Not when they both want her. Because they’re both me but who the fuck is that anymore? Jason’s dead, the Red Hood is Joker’s, what am I?

She notices him, of course she does. She’s too perceptive not too. Sometimes, he wonders what happened to make her that way, wants to ask about the small, oddly scattered scars like knife wounds- 

(too similar to yours) 

-that dot her body, but she doesn’t ask about his disappearances, his odd hours, the blood and death that have burrowed so deep into him that they’re practically lovers, so he keeps his mouth shut. Her secrets are her own, God knows he has plenty. Whatever has happened to her, it’s tuned her into the smallest shifts in her carefully created atmosphere, her protective bubble, her sanctuary. She notices him and there’s no telling what gave him away. The ragged breathing behind his mask, the soft creak of leather when his fists clenched, some other presence that he can feel clinging to him like a second skin and dripping from his lips like blood as he pants- 

It’s a phantom, given life by his every exhale, moving in a disjointed and phony copy of his own limbs, but it’s his and his alone. Rage made manifest, always closer on nights like these, ones where the acrid scents of smoke and gunpowder and iron cling to him even after a shower, like it's an expensive cologne and he wonders how she hasn’t guessed the truth. Or maybe she has. She’s smart, too smart, too perceptive not to. 

(Then why doesn’t she run from me?)

Robin would have been good for her to find. Even an older, jaded, more independent Robin like Dick would have been better. But no, she’d picked the worst possible one, the skeletal remains of a bird too young to fly before it was launched from the nest to fall, to struggle, to die. There was no feasible way she could have known, sidling up to him and flashing him that smile, ignoring every warning sign with the single minded determination of a self-destructive spiral, but shouldn’t she have seen? Seen the blood under his fingernails-

(they’re clean, you wear gloves)

-seen the fangs in his mouth-

(they’re normal teeth)

-heard the growl in his voice that screamed run, run, run-  

(Why didn’t you run?)

No, she’d looked into the lion’s mouth and smiled without fear, run delicate fingers through his mane, put her number in his phone and yanked him into her addictive embrace. She should have found Robin and maybe she’d find that little brat one day but right now she has a nightmare made flesh in her kitchen.

His hand flexes, wrapped around the butt of the gun holstered on his thigh like it’s a child’s comfort toy, not a deadly mechanism of destruction that he could so easily turn on her. Never, I never will . If a bullet kills her, it won’t be his, even if it’s because of him the trigger is pulled. Small comforts. The other fist clenches harder at the bitter thought, like the pressure will stop him from doing something even stupider than standing here. Like he can stop himself from reaching out, a demon to an angel, falling further over his abyss of damnation to reach her divine light.

So she notices. So she turns, so she sees. Sees him, towering in the shadows like he wants to melt into them. Sees the red covering his jaw and mouth and nose and cheeks, the black covering his eyes, the hood above all that. Sees the kevlar, the weapons, the gloves, the rage pulsing from his skin like a living being. Sees the truth of the man she’s been letting into her life and into her bed, a reaper come to take his due, coming here was a mistake-

He sees the truth on her face, the flicker of comprehension and complex emotion that cannot be anything but fear . Hears it, in the way her breath catches on an inhale that sounds like a gunshot between them, her to him, echoing over the actual gunshots outside. This was a mistake, you’ve fucked up-

Then, she’s slowly stepping toward him, like he’s an animal she’s trying not to spook. You’ve fucked up, Todd . This nice, kind, normal girl who was somehow able to see whatever shell of Jason was left under all of his Red Hood bravado, now being confronted with the truth that they are one in the same and something else entirely and fuck, he’s just fucked this whole thing up, isn’t that what you wanted? You knew she would never be safe-

If she runs, he won’t blame her even one bit. He’ll let her go, even though she threatens his whole plan because she knows now. But the memories of her fingers twisted with his as she dragged Jason Todd along a park path, joy in her eyes and laughter on her lips even when he stumbled… He’ll let her go. His hands are weapons that Bruce shaped long ago, people always choose to avoid him instead of crossing his path but she’s headstrong in her lack of fear. He’s a man to her, nothing more, and even if she runs from the devil, he’ll let her escape this one time just for that kindness.

She doesn’t run.

She also doesn’t take his hand.

She doesn’t touch him at all.

No, Anna kneels in front of him, eyes not wavering from his face even as her mouth is level with his groin. Jason doesn’t dare breathe, what the fuck is she doing and she doesn’t break eye contact as she opens her mouth and presses a filthy kiss to the front of his pants, tongue dragging up his inseam to mouth at his belt buckle as she looks up at him and blinks once, a question. 

There’s a breathless beat where she stares up at him and Jason does his best to play off his surprise as stretching the moment like he’s considering her offer, like he wouldn’t die a thousand deaths to take her up on it.

(She didn’t run. Take what you can get.)

The syrup slow moment passes as he follows her desire into whatever abyss this is. This is why he came here, to forget. And it’s so, so easy to forget when she’s smiling at him. 

Anything else can come later. 

—

He wakes up the next morning sore . Both from the strain of fighting those who he doesn’t want to fucking think about right now and the intensity of his worst, or maybe smartest, spur of the moment decision that followed. 

“Shit,” he breathes, watching his breath puff out in the chilly air. Her heat isn’t working again, fucking cheap-ass landlord . He rolls onto his back, flinging an arm over his eyes to stop the assault of the full daytime outside, taking a deep breath. 

Last night was a line that he crossed at full fucking sprint, he should not have come here in full Red Hood costume after a confrontation with Batman and his replacement-  

Jason takes a slow, calming breath. Rage and panic won’t help anything, it’ll just cloud his judgment. And he’s already clouded enough because he came here last night instead of running to ground in a safe house like he absolutely should have . It doesn’t matter that he lost any potential of a tail, that he was clear of trackers, he had promised himself that first night that he would not get Anna mixed up in this. She’s a good, nice girl and has no business being close to him but he’s fucking pathetic and she cares about him and he’s drawn to her sweetness like a moth to flame. Knowing it’s going to burn him but doing it anyway. 

There’s a part of him that knows she’s known something this whole time. He’s subtle but she’s smart. And now he’s blown the whole charade, breaking into her apartment at ass o’clock at night in full Red Hood regalia… god damn it, Todd. One person who cared about whatever’s left of you . It was a mistake, she’ll see that in the light of day. The bravery the dark gave her will fade. She’s a practical woman, she’ll know it’s too dangerous to let him stay.

But he’s a grown ass man who has to face the music he wrote, he can’t wallow in her bed forever. All his clothes, and his fucking mask God damn it all, are strewn in the other rooms. His dick twitches at the memory and he hates himself a little, mind-blowing sex does not make what you did okay, own up to it and face her like a man. So he takes a deep breath, pulls his arm away from his face and looks at the empty side of the bed. She’s probably been up for a while now. Rises with the sun and doesn’t even think of stopping her movements until after it sinks. Maybe she’ll give me a secret for a secret?

But that’s a hypocrite talking. Just because he busted into her apartment and basically handed her his head on a silver platter does not mean she’s going to do the same. And if she came to hide out in Gotham of all places…

If he digs, it won’t be hard to find out. But where will he be then? What good would it do? No, this is fine. 

She’s Anna, that’s all that matters. 

He’s… someone, but in her bed and in her life, he feels a bit closer to human. Maybe not Jason Todd, maybe never again, but… closer to the dream of it that almost feels like a memory on the good days.

He sighs, then stands up, rubbing a hand over the scruff on his jaw, mumbling to himself about needing to shave, then goes over to ‘his’ drawer in her dresser, the one where she keeps all the clothes she’s stolen from him over the months they’ve been… whatever they are. Whatever you can be when you’ve been lying to her, you bastard. Can’t be a relationship, that’s for fucking sure. 

Maybe it can be.

Fed up with his own internal monologue, the very thing he came here to escape, he pulls out a pair of sweatpants and yanks them on, then runs a hand through his hair and looks in the mirror. Tired, he looks tired. Bruises on his ribs and scrapes on his arms, the beginnings of a shiner on one cheekbone from the little prick, a few hickeys scattered along his throat and collarbones. Stop stalling, he glares at his own reflection, then turns on his heel and stalks towards the bedroom door, opening it and stepping into the apartment before he loses what little nerve he has left. The King of Gotham, brought to his knees by a slip of a girl whose smile could melt ice in a snowstorm. Christ, Todd, what’ve you come to?

She’s in the kitchen again, her kettle heating up for morning tea. His heart aches as he leans in the doorway, folding his arms and watching the way his shirt rides up her thighs as she walks, a slight hitch in her step, the way her braid can’t cover all the marks he left on her throat last night, the way she stirs honey into her tea, a sure sign that her throat is raw from- He breathes through his nose to banish the image before he pops a completely inappropriate boner.

Instead he refocuses on how the sunlight catches the colors in her lovely hair, highlighting the lighter brown streaks hidden away in the dark color and showing that it is, in fact, brown and not black. A deep chocolate color that makes him think of syrup or rich, dark wood of expensive furniture that no one wants to ruin. She’s beautiful, humming to herself and smiling as she takes a sip of this still-too-hot tea like she always does, hissing a bit but then making a small noise of satisfaction that it’s just right. Taking the tea bag out and disposing of it, turning around with a bright smile and- 

“Hey,” she says, still smiling, eyes still shining and crinkling in the corners in genuine delight, her voice a little raspy, “morning sleepyhead.” 

“Morning,” he rumbles out, arms still crossed, waiting for her to tell him to get the hell out before he drags her into his complicated mess of a life- 

She holds out a hand, sipping her tea again. “Come’ere.” 

He stares at the extended hand, glances over to the open area where her living room is. He sees his Red Hood suit, carefully folded and placed on the coffee table, his mask resting on top. Bold and open in the broad daylight, not hidden away or uncomfortably left untouched. Cared for. 

He looks back at her and her open smile, her quiet, understanding eyes, still crinkled at the edges, happy. Slowly, he straightens, unfolds his arms, waits for her hand to draw away, for her to flinch. 

She doesn’t. He takes her hand and steps into her sunlight with a smile, with something in his chest that might be the memory of hope.

(Neither of them see their shadows lurking in the corners, looming larger than them, just as entwined. How hers looms over his in the bright rays they bask in, the darkness swallowing the sun. Just as hungry.

He may be the Red Hood, but Silena is a wolf.)

[thepowerisyouth]

Eh mental health is annoying. Buying & cooking cheap low-FODMAP diet is annoying. My best top note for now is I'm using this blog to practice writing. I need more practice in it. I only know business, accounting & economics stuff. Its stupid stuff. Theres too much actual fraud everywhere that its annoying

Also I use mobile so formatting sucks cause Nvidia GPUs, or Arch dont like tumblr site. Or tumblr site dont like tumbkr site

Also also I 100,000% support all my fellow ones-and-zeros and their identity. Everyone is welcome here.

Except transphobes/zionist/long list of others but you get it. I'll help harrass any of those types endlessly if someone wants to tag me, and bring me in on an argument like that friend you call for backup with fights

Im unhinged so who's to say exactly what will end up here but this is also a completely public blog to me friends, family, hell, even acquaintances i dont give a fuc.

Blog should be expected to be roughly as child-friendly as simpsons or bobs burgers. But also boring like a civics/economics lesson sometimes. Yay

--------

I (and my husband) am ex mormon. Its a weird thing. Look into it if you havent recently. Realllllyyyy look into. Takes time to figure it all out in this fuckin fucked up world.

I just moved a year ago. Didnt watch the US stock market as much as I normally do. Had my first snowstorm 10 weeks ago, that was.. fun to handle while ill prepared. About 6 weeks ago I was hopping back on the market and notice its a huge tech bubble about to pop and all the conditions Ive been warned about my whole career imply this is not good. Just took a little more thinking & digging and I'm a little too confident to stop talking about it now.

(Oh I'm also care-free as fuc so I dont really read or desire to change past posts more than lil-nitpicks. More informative for the reader & myself-in-the-future-reading that way)

And I'm not kidding I do love feedback & questions. Its a very public blog tho so I get that part for sure.

If you search "life story" in my tags I had that pinned for a min Im just moving shit around rn

Being poor sucks. Will write more on that later.

---------------

First of all-- the exact timeline of an "economic shock" is literal insanity. Dont worry about the exact timing of any of this-- just know its doomed to happen soon.

Here are some effects I predict of this upcoming economic downturn

If anyone comes across any sources for these events that support my arguments please feel free to add in comments, reblogs, etc.

This concise list is mainly for my own reference, but it would be great to add to it if any one has something to add!

0.5. US Stock market collapse-- I have no desire to try and predict this one exactly. Too many conspiracies are actually correct about this big guy. Lets just say 7 US Tech stocks are worth 25% of the entire worlds market, roughly. "Too big to fail"-- I believe is the phrase

1. Corporate (slightly later will be residential by extension) real estate crisis: currently way too overvalued. Most of the houses, land, & urban corporate property we see could stand to decrease by about 60-90% from its current price.

2. Bankruptcy crisis: similar to the after-effects of the 70s inflation-- we can expect to see a huge wave of bankruptcies affecting a variety of business: from the micro-self employed; to the small business with leased buildings; to the largest corporations who commit massive accounting fraud & hope to escape accountability in time

3. Bank runs-- there is an extremely high overreliance on the Federal Reserve, who does not have good control over this situation. Once it becomes clear that there is a crisis (we call this a catalyst event)-- bank runs for physical cash are a surety. Hard to say how long a crisis like this might last. I should ask my siblings who lived near the SVB bank crisis hotspot (but those were rich fucks they do their "bank runs" over the phone)

3.5. Global currency collapse, which takes effect in every single local, state, & national economy at slightly different times. This means prices lower. Much lower. But takes time

4. Whatever the fuck the geopolitics is gonna do???. Its weird. You got Russia wanting to invade Europe? (Look at global economic forum 2024) Trump wants to let them. Biden wants to be an establishment corporate ass. North Korea has changed its #1 public enemy to South Korea (dont remember my source but it was a couple months ago). USA is stationing more troops in Taiwan, but probably only because of semiconductor technology?

The scope of our global financial woes are larger than can be explained in any of our lifetimes. Its much, much closer to pre-revolution France or the late 1920s. Big change is coming. Itll be soon

5. More to come

[koolkat9]

@bluudpop you have inspired me to expand on the human au with these tags though I diverge from them quite a bit...

GILBERT AND LUDWIG

Okay! Starting with Gil. Actually I don't think he's divorced or was ever married. He had Ludwig young like 16/17 either because he was pressured into sex by his girlfriend or because he was having a religious crisis and he had sex as a way to try to break free from the church.

Anyway, the girl ends up pregnant and her parents are not happy. Gil's dad (Germania) is also not happy, but he at least realizes that there is no changing this so he makes sure his son is involved through the pregnancy. The girl's parents are hard on her and as much as Gil tries to make his house a safe space for her, as soon as the baby is born, she dumps the baby on Gilbert and makes a run for it.

Luckily Gilbert has the support of his dad through it all. Until his dad suddenly passes away when Gilbert is 20 and little Ludwig is only 3/4. Gil no longer has that safety net. It's just him and Ludwig and now he's completely responsible for Ludwig's well being. Not to mention he's mourning his father who was that figure always there for him (Gil's mom died before he was 3).

Very lost and with a pile of money from his dad, he moves to a small town, opens up a mechanic shop. He finds out there is a parent support group at the recreation center and decides to go. It also has a daycare type thing while the parents talk so it would be good to get Ludwig socializing since that has been a struggle.

ARTHUR, ALFRED AND MATTHEW (AND FRANCIS)

I've been actually wait for an au where Fr//Uk divorces and Arthur is put the position of being the primary caregiver. Anyway, Arthur actually was married, but he's currently getting divorced from Francis. They had adopted the twins together, but it just added strain on their already strained relationship and they both knew that it was in the best interest of the kids that they separate. But it's hard on Arthur because he really loved Francis, they were together since highschool, spend college together. Now he's alone and he starts being the primary caregiver to the twins as Francis becomes more and more distant. Francis sees the kids yes, but they become more like an uncle/aunt.

One five year old child is a handful and two feels impossible. He's at least lucky Matthew is a well behaved child. Quiet, keeps to himself, has some issues with some of his clothing (sensitive to texture) and socially he seems to struggle, but otherwise never causes any fuss. Al on the other hand his bouncing off the walls, with a nose for trouble, consuming all of Arthur's time. Arthur is missing how Matthew is struggling and Matt feels kind of cast off to the side.

And Arthur is not doing mentally well. His mental health has rarely ever been good, but the divorce and parental stress has sent him spiraling. Oh. I just had a bad but juicy idea. Arthur having an issue with alcohol and gets blackout drunk with the twins around. Alastair catches wind of it and is absolutely pissed. But Dylan steps in, gives Arthur the ultimatum of getting help for his alcoholism or they'll take the kids. Of course Arthur chooses to get help (reluctantly, but still, those kids mean the world to him). Alastair doesn't trust him and basically moves in and helps him with the boys.

Dylan finds the parent support group and encourages Arthur to go. Arthur doesn't want to, but Dylan convinces him some way. And that's how Arthur ends up at the support group with Gil.

I want to add more parents but I don't know who...Feel free to suggest more parents because these are like the only two family units I have a lot of thoughts about.

I'll talk more about the kids in another post

[pixiemage]

I would love to hear your conclusions! 👀

-🍂

[This is related to this post my sleep-deprived brain decided to write up after pulling an all-nighter recently.]

Which Hermits would be able to hold a baby properly? And how would they behave with a kid? Let's find out! (And remember, this is he c!Hermits, not the cc!Hermits. Half the cc!Hermits are parents irl, but most of the c!Hermits are NOT. So that's what I'm basing this on. :3)

Part 1 | Part 2? | Part 3? | Part 4?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Doc - Oh my god he can absolutely hold a baby properly, and he's also likely to bluntly correct the way someone else does it if they're doing it wrong. He gets quite excited about kids, actually, and practically melts when there's one in the vicinity. The dude turns into a puddle of goo if a baby smiles at him. But he'll also turn on a dime and get pissed and deadly-scary if he thinks someone is about to hurt a kid.

Bdubs - Loudly proclaims that he can hold a baby properly. Isn't entirely wrong. He's mostly got it right and he's surprisingly more careful than some of the other Hermits might be. He's an absolute PRO at getting a baby to sleep - but he also forgets his own volume, so the second someone else tries to take the kid from him or the second he thinks someone else is gonna wake the baby, it's Bdubs' own loud voice that wakes the poor kid up in the end.

Etho - He can hold a baby but he looks awkward and uncomfortable the entire time he's doing it. He's likely to hand off the kid for someone else to hold, but he also quietly enjoys being in the same room while it's happening (though he'd probably not admit it openly unless asked directly). Despite his hesitance to hold a baby, Etho somehow also has Dad Reflexes, in that if he sees a kid about to fall or get hurt from across the room, he'll be across the room in half a second to stop it before it can even happen. Ninja Dad Mode Engaged.

False - Similarly to Etho, she's more likely to feel uncomfortable being put in charge of a kid. It's like a completely foreign language. She'd be the most awkward babysitter ever. (Also might forget that kids shouldn't have swords in her desperation to find an activity to keep her ward busy.) She not exactly the type to actively choose to put a kid in danger, it's just that she Does Not Get how kids are supposed to work.

Cub - Definitely can hold a kid properly, though he doesn't boast about it like Bdubs. It's one of those things he just Knows How To Do and nobody knows where he learned it. He's pretty chill if he's gotta take care of a kid. He treats the task with the same level of interest as any other project he might undertake. Also likely to talk to a kid like they're an adult. (Also might involve them in a mild prank or two, but nothing reckless. Just innocent fun times!)

Scar - Shockingly good with kids, and can hold a baby like a pro. He's still a little accident-prone so he's had moments where he drops a baby and manages to catch them with vex magic. No kid has EVER been hurt in his presence but he's certainly given other Hermits a heart attack with how close he's gotten. (But being dropped and caught seems to make the kids laugh so - no harm done? I guess?) He's also amazing at telling stories because his brain is full of them...and he's also prone to Disney Movie Marathons if he ever has to babysit.

Grian - Oh god. Uh. Can he hold a baby? Yes. Should he hold a baby? Absolutely not. This man is too chaotic and inattentive to be responsible for a child. I mean look how Grumbot turned out! The first one had an existential crisis and got locked in virtual reality, the second one banished most of the Hermits to a parallel world for a few weeks (and might have killed Scar in another life), and the third one plotted world domination before he was destroyed. Grian would likely take a real kid for flying joyrides even if they were far too small for that kind of thing. No. Do not. Give. Grian. A child.

Gem - This woman can absolutely be trusted with any child any day of the week. She's naturally good at it, though sometimes she might get nervous and ask for help just to make sure she doesn't do anything wrong. Not that she needs it. She's gentle when she needs to be, but also fun-loving and high energy if a kiddo needs play time. She also LOVES to play dress-up and pretend...no surprise there.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Part 1 | Part 2? | Part 3? | Part 4?

(I'll probably continue this later...but there are a TON of Hermits and I might have underestimated just how long this post would be xD)

[reallyverysane]

How I Wonder

Pairing: Astarion x fem!Tav, Drow, OC with backstory

Summary: Astarion deals with hunger of a couple different types. Tav offers her wrist but wants to offer more.

The road into the Shadowlands is full of spiders and flashbacks. Some tadpole assisted backstory, tender moments.

Warnings: Mostly plot, yearning, confused feelings, trauma babies doing the trauma tango, PTSD flashbacks, some world-appropriate violence, kidnapping, culty rituals, bodily harm, dissociation, just a bit of physical contact, nothing spicy.

Word Count: 7k oops

A/N: This is a continuation of Blush but can be read on its own too. This Tav has me doing so much research to make her backstory accurate to dnd lore, she is taking over my life a bit. There will eventually be actual spice in this series, but even though I've got outlines and plot points to hit, they just keep wanting to talk and form bonds with each other. Hope you enjoy!

The night air was crisp against his skin. The wind brought scents of dry stone and pine to him, along with the fragile note of a night blooming flower. Far in the distance Astarion could hear the staccato sound of laughter and off key singing as his companions settled in for another night at camp. Their narrow escape at the Githyanki creche and Lae’zel’s crisis of faith had left them rattled, but as they retraced their steps up the mountain toward the pass their spirits had lifted with the altitude. They would soon reach the shadow cursed lands and Halsin, knowing the despair they would face there, was aggressively trying to manufacture one last night of raucous mirth for the party.  As they had begun making camp for the night he had taken up his lute and bellowed out bawdy tunes with distinctly druidic themes. “The Bear and the Maiden Fair '' had brought Karlach to the ground with laughter, her exhaust ports singeing small fires in the grass as she choked on her joy.

Astarion could not quite bring himself to join in the merriment. His legs were aching from the climb and he was hungry. He had fully drained the gith doctor for what she had tried to pull with the Zaith’isk, but they had fought hard to get out alive and his trance had been rudely interrupted by Voss and the faith-shattering revelations he had brought them. He did feel sorry for Lae’zel, he knew what it was to have one’s deepest beliefs shaken to the core. Perhaps that was why he sought the solitude of this high precipice.

He sat on the cliff, his legs dangling off the edge over vast leagues of emptiness. The sun sank slowly over the temple in the distance and he felt a chill thinking of all the bodies inside. Yet another hoard of enemies taken down in their pursuit of a cure. He never used to care about the violence he inflicted, still relished the choreography of a good kill, the music of his blades expertly dispatching a foe before they even knew he was there. But traveling with this group of disparate weirdos had seemingly started to make him go soft. 

His thoughts crashed into each other, contradictory and chaotic. He was beginning to care for these people, something he truly never believed he’d feel again, but his apprehension for any kind of vulnerability mocked him for his twee little feelings. His survival had depended for so long on walling himself off to anything real. To anyone at all. He had learned too many times over what it cost, that warmth of closeness. It always ended in blood. 

And yet, he felt himself drawn like a moth to flames. He so desperately wanted to be let in, to be part of the crew. They were all so bonded, sharing stories of their pasts, consulting each other on their worries, finding small comforts in the warmth of an embrace. He longed to reach out to someone, anyone, as easily as they had. His years of captivity and pain had carved a deep chasm in his heart, one he was desperately trying to claw his way out of. 

Of course, she had seen right through his facade. Their alluring, ruthless leader had taken one look at him the morning after their tryst  and had somehow pierced the defenses he had honed over more than a century. Her ice and onyx eyes had bored holes into his back as he tried to play the carefree rake. When she had asked about his scars he had spat the truth at her, almost as a challenge, uncomfortable and exposed in the sunlight. He had made an attempt to divert her attention to anything other than his screeching, agonized soul, and she had let him. Still, he knew she saw more of him than he intended and it terrified him. He had nearly bolted from the sunlit glade the second she acquiesced to his deflection. It had been nearly a month since then and he still couldn’t get a read on the enigmatic drow. 

Tav was a mystery to him. Her sweet, generous disposition belied a shrewdness and pragmatism he found fascinating. She had divulged some of her past, her childhood as a cutpurse in the bowels of the City of Spiders, her frenzied and daring escape to the surface as a tunnel collapsed below her, but she had been sparse on the details. He had seen her expertly skate around specifics when their companions would inquire about aspects of her time in the Underdark. She had an electric way of weaving details of the Drow culture into her stories, distracting her listeners from the fact that the focus was rarely on her. 

That was not to say she seemed unwilling to connect with the others. She had formed a fast friendship with Karlach, trading awful jokes in between impassioned discussions of their best kills. As a parentless nobody alone in the heart of Menzoberranzan, Tav had learned quickly the art of survival. While she hadn’t spoken much about the devastating Storm Sorcery she wielded, she had regaled them with tales of her younger self and the warring factions of street urchins she had run with. The brutality of Drow society had been shocking to all but Lae’zel, who had greatly approved, saying that it had molded Tav into a strong and cunning warrior with great prowess on the battlefield. Tav had thanked the Githyanki enthusiastically, as though she truly appreciated the validation from one who actually understood the violence she had known. 

Astarion puzzled on the matter, retreating from the cliff edge as the first stars winked into being in the purpling sky. She had a hardened and remorseless attitude toward killing, yet her actions with the grove and her gentle handling of the members of their band proved she had the capacity for kindness he had never possessed. His had always been the way of self serving manipulation and guile, even before his foray into undeath. She truly did intrigue him, though he had kept her at a safe distance since the morning he had awoken, nestled in her arms, clinging to her like a castaway to driftwood on an open sea, with the taste of bile in his mouth. 

He had disentangled himself as quickly and smoothly as he could before sprinting out of the clearing to wretch her blood onto the base of a great oak. Her touch had felt like crackling lighting across his skin, setting him ablaze in ways he had not felt for decades, but the moment the storm had lulled, his memories had flooded back in nauseating waves. He had acted on instinct, used the only tool he had left to him, and he hated himself for it. Though he knew it was a necessary step in his plot to curry her favor and protection, he found he was surprised by how disgusted he felt with himself. 

The smell of roasting meat and fire shook him out of his dark reverie and he returned to his senses with a jolt. The sun had sunk just below the horizon and the glow behind the mountains was echoed by the campfire on the opposite peak. His hunger twisted, a cruel fist grasping in his chest, as the aromas of wafted down from where the group busied themselves making dinner and setting the camp. His mouth watered and his mind wandered to a vision of Tav’s smooth, ebony neck, the two delicate scars his fangs had left the first night he fed from her. The memory of her blood, the first non-rodent thing he’d fed on in decades, threatened to overwhelm him. 

“Godsdamnit!” he cursed aloud, turning with balled fists to trudge up the path to camp.

He needed to feed, and she was his only option on this high mountain pass full of nothing but uppity eagles and dead Githyanki. 

~~~

She watched him stalk into camp, just outside the circle of firelight, his face a hollow shell concealing the thoughts within. As he scanned the camp his gaze locked with hers, a near imperceptible jolt running through him. He pulled his features into a semblance of nonchalance and strode animatedly across the clearing to drape himself onto the ground beside her, back against the fallen pillar she was using as a bench. They had made camp in the long ruined husk of a stone temple, a protective brace against the wind that constantly howled at this height. 

Astarion began languidly trailing a finger along the outside of her calf, not turning to look into her face. 

“You know, darling” he drawled in a voice that reeked of duplicity, “it’s been ever so long since we were able to enjoy each other’s talents.” 

His finger traced up along the top of her knee, reaching towards the inside of her thigh. She swatted it away, quick and light as a dragonfly striking. He pulled his hand back with a sharp inhale and whipped his face to hers, eyes indignant and a snarl threatening to pull through his lips. She watched, bemused, as he fought to reign in his irritation and plaster a veil of pleasantness over his features. She saw the ragged glint in his eye and knew he was hungry and desperate to feed, his gaze subtly drifting to the pulse in her neck. 

“So your hunt didn’t go well, I take it?” 

“What? Uh…Whatever makes you say that? Can’t a man seek the company of a ravishing sorcerer of an evening?” His eyes narrowed, wary, clearly unaware that he practically radiated with the grace of a predatory animal on the prowl. Though his air had been light and casual, Tav knew a hunter when she saw one. His movements were just the smallest bit too practiced, a dance he had done a thousand times before. 

“If you’re hungry, Astarion, you only have to ask.” 

She didn’t begrudge him his mask, his choreography, she simply wanted him to see that she needed none of it. She had seen herself reflected in him so many times. The way he watched, always vigilant to the most minute changes in the attitude of a room, his body a figure study in relaxation while his eyes scoured his environment for threats.

When she had seen him flinch from her touch the morning after they had come together, her hand trailing too close to the raised scars on his back, she had felt the echo of his recoil in her own skin. She hadn’t picked up physical scars as brutal as his, but she felt the wounds on her soul ache when she heard him speak of his time with Cazador. When she had offered her sympathy he had rebuffed her, not believing she could understand the half of what he had been through. And maybe she couldn’t, but she carried the weight of her own pain, her own fear, and she had grown strong from the burden. Strong enough, perhaps, to help him shoulder his.  

His eyes searched hers, incredulous, their feline slant softening as he began to take in her face. She wore an expression of warm amusement, not a hint of judgment in her captivating gaze. One corner of her mouth pulled up slightly into a coy grin as she extended her wrist in front of him. 

“Go ahead, the rest of us already ate.” 

He started, gaze shifting rapidly from her eyes to her wrist and back. With slow, hesitant movements he grasped her wrist in both his hands and pulled it to his mouth. The smell of her skin, the blood so close to the surface, was intoxicating. Pulling in a deep draw of her honey and juniper scent, his eyes rolled and he let out a sigh against the taught skin of her wrist. She felt his cool breath like a caress, sending a shiver down her spine. He glanced at her again, as if to confirm it really was alright for him to bite her, and she nodded, her grin spreading to pucker a tiny dimple into her cheek. 

~~~

Eyes shifting warily around the camp, grazing over the figures of the others readying to bed down for the night, he searched for signs that this was all some elaborate trap. Surely this open generosity, this act of profound trust and vulnerability, must be designed to lull him from his defenses. It had happened time and again, with his siblings, his master. Some small kindness offered, only to be retracted at the last second and replaced with the scourge of a blade or a balled fist. He pushed the panic down, trying to relax the coiling knot between his shoulder blades. 

His lips brushed the skin of her wrist in a featherlight kiss before he pressed his fangs in as gently as his hunger would allow. The rush of her blood into his mouth surrounded him in the heady smell of her. It overtook his senses as he drank, blurring out the rest of the campsite and flooding his vision with a haze of indigo shot with silver. He focused on her pulse, strong against his lips, hammering in his ears. As he shifted his hands to hold her arm closer to him, fingers sliding around the back of her elbow, he felt her pulse flutter ever so slightly. Her fingers splayed, grazing through his curls and he heard her hiss. He worried he was hurting her and began to slow his pace when a soft moan escaped her slightly parted lips. His eyes darted to hers in surprise and found she was staring, lips parted and  pupils blown, directly at him. 

Smiling to himself against her wrist, still sucking her flowing blood, he pulled her down from the pillar. He twisted with her slowly so as not to break the seal against her skin.  She flowed into his lap like a cat, curling herself around to rest half leaning on his chest. He brought an arm around her ribs to steady her, his hand snaking up the back of her neck to rest in her bright silver and gunmetal hair. She leaned her head into his hand and her eyes fluttered closed. With her this close, senses drowning in the redolent perfume of her skin, he began to draw longer, covetous pulls from her wrist. 

Her blood sang in his veins. The pulse under his lips fluttered as she drew in a ragged breath, her back arching against him. Rolling her head forward to nuzzle into the slope of his neck, he shuddered as her lips brushed the underside of his jaw. He felt her breath on his skin like the heat of a campfire. She moaned low in his ear, a breathless, intoxicating purr. He was about to break the latch he had on her wrist to claim her berry mouth in a bloody kiss, when he heard a throat clearing behind him. 

“While I do understand your fervor, Astarion, would you kindly un-wrist our dear leader before you drain her like a particularly fine wineskin?” 

Astarion growled into her wrist as Tav seemed to shake out of whatever haze she had fallen into and chuckled. 

“I believe you’re right, Gale” She conceded, “ I do feel somewhat... lightheaded.” 

His arm remained wrapped around her shoulder, fingers twining into her hair of their own accord. He pricked his tongue with a fang and ran the bead of blood over her wound, closing it. Before letting go of her wrist, he kissed it again, this time in earnest, turning his eyes upward to meet hers. She stared down at him with the look of someone who has just awoken from a captivating dream, lids heavy and eyes shining with a secret glee.

“Thank you” His voice ragged and thick through the fog of his bloodlust. “Truly.”

He willed his hand to release its grip on her hair, glaring at the wizard for his obvious ploy to interrupt. As she slipped out of his arms and stood she leaned forward and brushed a soft kiss against his cheek. His other hand trailed down her arm as she rose, his fingers reflexively hooking against hers in a traitorous attempt to hold her with him just a short time longer. She hooked her fingers back to his for just a moment, long enough to pull his arm taught behind her as she retreated. As her fingers rolled off his he was left with his hand hovering in front of his face, frozen where she had left it, the feeling of her skin reverberating through his fingertips. 

“Any time Star!” She called over her shoulder with a grin as Gale pulled her into a discussion with Halsin about the properties of some mushroom or other. He sat, stunned, pulling the hand she had released to the heated spot where her lips had brushed his face. She had never called him that before. 

Nobody had called him that since before his life ended.

*  *  *  *  *

Bathed in the yellow light of the Blood of Lathander, the group moved slowly through the cursed darkness of the shadowlands. As the company entered the region from the high mountain pass they had been greeted by a welcome party from Moonrise, sent to escort the ‘True Souls' to the Absolutist stronghold. The plan had been to play along, acting as though Halsin was a prisoner they were keen to return to face punishment. That plan went straight out the window as the eerie blue light of the moonlantern revealed the aberration that was Kar’niss, the drider. Swallowing his unease, Wyll managed to learn the direction of the tower from the monstrosity as the rest of the group filed down the narrow passageway into the darkness, Tav bringing up the rear with Scritch and Scratch. 

Before any of the others knew what was happening, a savage roar ripped through Tav, a sound like her soul tearing. She leapt forward, her lightning magic crackling over her skin like a shroud, to bring a violent storm down upon the group of cultists. Tongues of lightning battered the drider, his many limbs giving out beneath him as the electricity shot through his nerves. Not expecting an ambush, the other cultists stood frozen, surprised, while the smell of scorched ozone grew with each new strike of lightning. 

“Alrighty then, guess we’re doing this the fun way!” Karlach was the first to surge forward, swinging her greataxe into the side of one of the cultist’s heads. The figure crumpled like a marionette with cut strings, and as she wrested the axe from the ruin of its face, a wild grin broke across the tiefling’s lips. “So much for diplomacy, eh Sparks?” 

Tav merely growled in response, her eyes lit a blazing white from within, never leaving the writhing form of the drider. As the rest of the group made short work of the band of cultists, Tav stalked forward, the lighting of her power coalescing into her palms. Walking into the swirling heart of the storm she had created, she loomed over the crumpled body of the monstrosity, teeth gritted and body trembling with emotion. She went to one knee beside the wretched creature, still being slashed through with forking lightning, and bent low to be heard above the cacophony of the tempest. 

“I swore I would never suffer another one of your kind to live, drider.” Her voice a dark snarl, she spat in disgust. “Give my regards to the Spider Bitch.”

The abomination sent up a wordless cry of agony, its face turned to hers, pleading for her mercy. Her mouth twisted into a crooked grin, savage and deadly, as she held her sparking hands on either side of the drider’s face. Her magic scorched the air as lightning arced between her palms, straight through the brain of the creature, its numerous eyes briefly blazing in an ice-white echo of hers before darkening to a lifeless black. With a shudder of disgust she rose, kicking the face of the drider away from her and breaking the concentration she held on the small tempest above them. 

The final crackling of lightning sounded and their ears rang in the unnatural silence. Tav stood, trembling, shoulders hunched, in a circle of scorched corpses.  As though a spell of silence had been cast over the group, they stood rooted in place, none daring to speak first. A ragged sob tore out of Tav as she brought the heel of her boot down against the temple of the twisted creature, caving in the pale face with its many empty eyes. She was shaking violently now, her sob morphing into a stuttering, wordless wail. 

At the sound of her pain the spell seemed to break, and Astarion found himself moving to her, body reacting before caution could hold him back. He called her name gently as he approached, so as not to startle her. She turned to him, her face streaked with tears and black blood, and nearly fell into his waiting arms. She buried her face into his neck, his arms coming around her back, crushing her to him and holding her upright. Her sobs were an echo of his own desperate soul.

“I’ve got you.” HIs voice sounded hollow in his ears as he pressed the words into her hair. “It’s over, you’re safe. I'm here.”  

She continued to pour tears into the collar of his leathers, body quaking with silent sobs. The group surrounded them, anxious faces stricken with concern. Astarion waved them back, silently meeting their eyes with a challenge. Do not intervene. 

The druid was the first to speak, ushering the group to begin searching the bodies for valuables or missives from Moonrise. They retrieved the strange lantern the dryder had carried and began to move off down the path to give Tav some space. As the eerie blue glow of the lantern receded, Shadowheart rushed back to hand the glowing mace to Astarion. 

“Take your time.” She placed a gentle hand on Tav’s shoulder and gave a light, reassuring squeeze. She shot Astarion a look of skeptical amusement, as though she couldn’t believe that he, of all people, would be the one to offer comfort and care to the drow. She cocked an eyebrow and mouthed good luck to him before scampering back to the circle of lantern light and following the group down the path of the broken road. 

When they had disappeared from view and he could no longer hear their voices, Astarion gently peeled Tav away from his chest. Her face was a mess of tears and inky drider blood. Her normally piercing eyes red and puffed from the tears, she wouldn’t meet his gaze as she sniffed and wiped her face with the sleeve of her robe. He felt a stab of grief reverberate through him, his mind flashing through an endless slideshow of painful memories. Gently raising her face to him, he saw the reflection of his own sorrow in her eyes. Her gaze darted wildly, an animal trapped in a cage, desperate for a place to hide. 

Astarion cradled her cheek with his large, cool palm, his crimson eyes capturing hers, forcing her to focus on him. 

“Breath, darling.” 

One arm still around her waist, anchoring her, she heaved in a rough breath. She leaned into his palm, letting it go in a protracted sigh. The jagged edges of her mind began to smooth, her consciousness slowly sliding back into her body. Only when he felt her pulse begin to slow and her breathing return to normal did he release her from his hold, stepping back and allowing his hands to fall to his sides. 

“Thank you, Astarion.” Her voice was croaky and low, her throat aching from the guttural screams she had uttered. “That was… I …” She trailed off, not knowing how to continue. Seeing a drider again for the first time since her escape from the Underdark had plunged her into a rage and fear she had tried desperately to leave behind. The sight of the hulking abomination had transported her into memories of chitinous legs pinning her to cold stone, white hot lightning arcing through her as the chants of cultists drowned out her screams. Her body had acted in pure instinct, moving to slaughter the cause of her suffering, pulling on the twisted power she had gained as a means of survival. Now, she only felt a dull, empty ache at the center of her. She was so tired. 

Astarion searched her eyes as she stood in front of him, miles or years away. She had always been somewhat volatile, a simmering anger beneath the surface of her placid demeanor, but this was the first moment he came to realize the truth. Her temper was not borne of pride or bravado, but was merely the instinctual defense of a person like himself. Someone who had, too many times, been presented with the choice to either fight or die. The frenzied way she had taken the drider down, her instant switch from sentience to instinctual brutality, these were the hallmarks of one who knew the truth of suffering. He felt his heart ache for her. A kindred damned soul. 

“You don’t have to explain…” His voice held none of its typical music, his tone flat and serious. “There are some things we carry with us, no matter how far from them we truly are.” He extended his hand to her, and she took it with fingers that trembled ever so slightly. 

“I will… I just can’t, not here.” Her eyes darted over his shoulder to the mangled body of the drider, legs curled in on itself grotesquely, face a black pulp. “Can we go?” Her eyes flashed with desperation and he squeezed her hand, pulling her with him away from the carnage. They headed down the path after the rest of the group, the hungry shadows held at bay by the light of Lathander. 

When they spotted the glow of the campfire ahead, Astarion stopped. They had walked here silently, fingers laced together, the heat of her skin gradually warming his hand. She turned to him with a deep sigh, eyes trained on the small circles he was rubbing into her skin with his thumb. 

“I can’t go back just yet. Too many worried faces, everyone holding back questions and treating me like I’m breakable.” 

Astarion scoffed, “Nobody thinks you’re breakable. You should’ve seen yourself back there!” he gestured up the path they’d taken with a nod of his head. “ You were positively lethal.” 

“Yes, and then I went mad and sobbed in front of everyone.”Her voice was a rasping whisper as she clung to his hand. “I can’t stand to see their pity, it just makes everything worse.”

“You’ll get no pity from me, darling. I don’t pity those who could call a bolt down and roast me where I stand.” His attempt at levity fell flat between them, a sly smile dying on Astarion's lips as she finally looked into his eyes. His breath caught at the sight of those deep onyx pools slashed with streaks of white lightning. He saw the haunted, anguished stare all the spawn in Cazador’s house had worn. Though he hadn’t seen his reflection in centuries, he knew his own eyes must carry the same look now and again. He dropped his gaze from hers, feeling as though she could see straight to the core of him. 

“You and I are more alike than I thought.” His voice was low and serious, a tone she had rarely heard him use. He paused thoughtfully, bringing their hands, fingers still intertwined, to his lips. “If you want to stay out here a while, I’m in no rush to get back.” 

Tav’s thoughts blurred at the feel of his lips on the back of her fingers. She felt the familiar pull to throw herself on him, shutting down any questions he might have with her tongue in his mouth. Why was it so easy to let him into her body but not her mind? She knew she could make it all disappear, the pain of the memories, the insatiable rage she felt for her past self, the fear. She could melt it all away with the touch of his cool hands on her body. He could pull her out from the chaos in her mind and keep her rooted firmly in the feel of him. 

She knew this was her mind’s way of running from the truth. She had to face the part of her past she was running from. In a guarded, secret place inside she knew that her feelings for Astarion could be so much more than an escape. Terrified as she was to admit it, she saw clearly who he was and it left her in awe of him. His past was laid bare in the jagged scars on his back. While she knew he was still hiding much from her, he had let her in in small ways, each time revealing more of himself. She knew he deserved the same. That she couldn't wear the mask for him anymore. 

Tav leaned her forehead into Astarion’s, their noses brushing together and mingling her warm breath with his cool one. 

“Will you let me show you? I don’t think I can explain it all without bolting for the hills.”

He nodded against her, stepping closer and gripping the back of her neck. He pulled her into a gentle kiss, lips almost reverent in their explorations. She fought the urge to deepen the kiss and flee into his arms. A soft moan of protest escaped his lips as she pulled away, but she did not fully retreat, allowing him to hold her in the circle of his arms.

She reached out with her tadpole and connected to his with a spine chilling jolt. In this connection their thoughts flowed together with no need for language. Her memories flashed in a dizzying wave, showing him the truth of her youth and the years she spent numb and cut off in a pleasure house. She felt his surprise as parts of her story became enmeshed with his own, seeing a double image of them both languishing in separate beds, strangers between their legs. He felt her memories as if they were his own, understanding the depth of the emptiness gnawing at her soul in those long decades of service to the Trade. She poured into him all the years of petty betrayal among the courtesans, the insipid dramas that nonetheless endangered her very livelihood. He answered with the squabbling between the sibling spawn. The backstabbing and conniving to gain a pittance of favor from their master.   

Tav pressed herself against him, yearning to somehow feel even closer as they clung to each other in the whirlwind of her memories. She balked as her thoughts delved deeper, wincing away from the pain of her deep buried past. Astarion’s presence in her mind remained unshaken, a questioning desire to know what she was trying to hide. She felt his arms grip her ever tighter, his hands balling into her hair and her tunic, a physical tether. She opened to him, tumbling down within her mind to the dark and jagged center of her torment. 

Her friend, or so she had believed, set her up. She should have known the posting was too good to be true. A live-in concubine for the heir of house Baenre. She had gone through the proper channels to verify the assignment, but the woman knew the procedures well and managed to dupe even the management at the pleasure house. Tav thought she was heading to a lavish apartment in a noble house for a year, maybe three. Instead she had been taken, snatched from her carriage like a mouse caught in the talons of a silent owl. She had hated herself then for allowing her instincts to become dulled and her reflexes slow. Through the tadpole Astarion saw how the shrewd cutpurse she had been in her youth berated her captured self mercilessly. Eighty years in the fog of distraction and numbness of a life without purpose had stolen her acumen for survival. 

Astarion’s heart bled for her, hearing the echo of his own self-hatred in the venomous words she berated herself with. Stupid. Naive. Worthless. He reached his mind into the cyclone of her anger and tried to sooth her with all the things he wished someone would say to him. Capable. Beautiful. Worthy. She shuddered in his arms and he was vaguely aware of his body pulling her down to sit on the ruined earth. Still holding the connection with the tadpole, her body almost lost to her in the swell of her grief, she pulled herself into his lap and he wrapped his arms around her like a shield. 

The next memories she flew to were tinged with a deep indigo haze, as though a part of her brain would not allow them to fully realize. Her captors had brought her far from Menzoberranzan, trussed in a wagon like a lamb for slaughter. She had begged for release, explanation, anything, and had earned herself a stinking sock for a gag. When they finally arrived at their destination, her horrors had only worsened as she was led into the crumbling throne room of a long abandoned stronghold to see a monster atop the throne before her. 

The drider loomed massive in the torchlight of the hall. He towered over the cowering servants at his feet. His torso, grotesquely morphing into the abdomen of a spider, was covered in black patches of coarse hair and chitin. Skittering toward her on eight segmented legs, he pulled her off her feet by her neck to bring her face closer to his. He was supernaturally strong, nearly crushing her throat in his grip. When he tossed her aside she crumpled into a heap on the cold stone slabs. He spoke to his attendants in a language she couldn’t understand and she had been hauled away to rot for months in a cold cell. She could hear the cries and lamentations of the other women in the cages, though as the weeks went by the voices started to go silent one by one. She grew to hold the understanding that she would die, shivering and afraid, in this dank cavern, with nobody to blame but herself. 

When her turn came to be dragged before the drider once more she resigned herself to the fate, hoping she would find a way to end her own suffering early. She had listened as the agonized screams of the other women had echoed off the dripping walls of the cave. They had begged and wailed to every god in the pantheon. None had listened. The hooded attendants had led her, bound at the wrists barefoot, into a bright circle of light cast through a moonhole to the surface. She turned her eyes skyward, squinting through the long tunnel of stone to see the full, cold moon and bright, distant stars. It was the first time she had ever seen them, and she had chuckled ruefully to herself that it would also be the last time. 

The ritual was built off ancient magic in languages long lost. She couldn’t guess the specifics, but as the cultists wound silk ribbons around her shivering frame the drider appeared from the shadows of the vast cavern, scurrying to her and caging her in with his revolting legs. His carapace covered body hung over her and his drow face leered down at her, sharp teeth displayed in a manic grin. The cultists circled around them, each standing at a point in an eight pointed star. They began a chant that shot ice through her veins. The drider above her pushed her down onto her back, pinning her with one leg as he used another to slice through the tattered dress she had been wearing since her capture. 

At this, Tav felt her mind lurch away, the indigo haze over her memory growing ever darker, obscuring the truth of her agony even from her. Her memory shrank to the tiny circle of light she could see through the moonhole on the high ceiling of the cavern. As she watched, detached from herself wholly, a dark silver cloud passed in front of her circle of light. She raged then, that her only means of focus had abandoned her. 

The chanting rose to a deafening clamor and she began to feel her body ripping apart. The ice that had started spreading through her veins now formed into shattering crystals. Her body arced with the pain and rage and fear. She had begged then, wordless cries tearing from her throat until she coughed blood. She had called in the primal language of pain to any god who might hear. She tore her throat raw, and heard nothing echo back in return. She wished only to die and have the agony cease. 

The anguish had shifted then, from a cold, scraping, ache to the white hot electricity of lightning. The last thing she had seen before the storm claimed her was the silhouette of the moon, shrouded in deep indigo clouds, with a crackling halo of ice-white lightning. The element had ripped through her, sparking from every nerve and out her skin to drive her attackers back, frozen in a tableau of torment as the lightning arced from one to another, connecting the points of the star around her. Then her vision had gone white and the smell of burning ozone had flooded her senses. She had called the storm down around her, lashing into the cultists and impaling the drider on a spear of pure, crackling, energy. 

Mad with pain and power, she had leapt skyward, following the light of the silver moon above her, the only thing she could see through her flash-blind eyes. Somehow, she assumed she would never know, she had ascended to the base of the moonhole where it opened into the cavern. Grasping with desperate fingers, the tattered remains of her bindings smoldering on her wrists, she had clawed her way up the crumbling wall of the tunnel. Her only goal to reach that beckoning orb sparking with power. She ascended as the ground gave way beneath her, scrambling to pull herself ever faster toward the surface. 

Her arms nearly gave out from the strain of the climb, and when she finally broke the surface, gasping and shaking, shredded dress hanging off her in ribbons, she had rolled on her back and shrieked her laughter to the bright moon. The stars seemed to laugh with her, twinkling in and out of focus as she bled out on the cool grass. 

She had awoken days later in the care of an elderly tiefling couple on the outskirts of Baldur’s Gate. They had heard her maniacal laughter and rushed to help before she slipped away. The man had been a healer once, and had been able to staunch the bleeding from a deep, eight pointed wound where her womb had been. She had stayed with them a month or so before moving on, grateful for their kind help but wary of any who would offer aid to a stranger. Her fear and paranoia had driven her into the sewers of the city, the only place she could escape the bright, noisy bustle of the streets, so unlike her existence in the Underdark. 

Astarion’s presence came forward once again in her mind. He had receded while her memory had relived her most wretched moments, observing in horror and wishing there was something he could do to lessen the pain. He held her in his lap, sobbing again softly into his shoulder, and severed the connection with her tadpole. 

“Oh, darling,” He whispered as he stroked her hair and clutched her to him. “I’m so sorry.” 

“NO!” She gasped, frantic, “Don’t you dare pity me!” Her face turned up to his, defiant, but the shattered and broken part of her soul looked out at him from the depths of her onyx and ivory eyes. 

“Never.” He cupped her face in his hands to steady her gaze onto him. “Tav. I will never pity you.” 

She shuddered, tears streaming down her cheeks onto his fingers. 

“You survived.” His voice was stern but soft. “You fought, and you won, and now you’re here.” 

She gave a tired nod, and a brutal sigh wrenching through her. 

“You’re godsdamned right, I survived.” Her hands came up to cover his and she leaned toward him, knocking his forehead with hers. “And so did you, Star.” 

“Tav?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Would it be altogether inappropriate if I kissed you right now?” 

“Yes, but do it anyway.” 

He obeyed, hungry and desperate. They melded together, each searching for absolution in the other’s touch. He felt for once that he was kissing her just for himself. Not for a master, or a plan, or even just to satisfy an urge. He kissed her because he wanted her to feel his care and adoration for her. Because he felt as though his body would catch fire when she touched him. Because in those moments when she had allowed him to see her deepest hurt, he had felt she saw him too. He was moved by the vulnerability she had allowed him to share. He knew hope was for fools, but he couldn’t deny the warmth in his chest as his tongue gently parted her lips and she met him with equal fervor. Their bodies entwined, the light of Lathander bathing him in the warmth of a false sun, he felt real for the first time he could remember since his heart had beat its last. 

She was going to be the ruin of him, and he thought perhaps he would just let it happen. 

[a-dragons-journal]

I have a "type" (not a label user) that I'd like to know more about... it's of a fictional character (as much as it pains to say that), but it's a very Intristic identity, it's less "I found this character and now identity as them", it's definitely more "this part of me has always existed, i just needed to discover it". I've had this for years now. I've tried getting rid of it.

you could say I'm very alike them, but i say they're like Me, not the other way around. I'm not them, they're Me, because the former implies my identity came After discovering them.

I've Always been drawn to scenery, locations, language, clothing etc that's associated with or is the same as this characters source long before discovering them. My ideal appearance and home mirrors this character and their source. If I could wear their cosplay 24/7, I would, and I often do, because it's the most I ever feel like Myself.

I'm not spiritual, hell, i have a fear of that, but because of this almost past life-ish nature of my identity i label it as "quasi-spiritual". But I'd like to know possible mundane or psychological reasons for this. The idea of my identity actually being spiritual all along scares me though.. I don't know what to think. I've got past life readings twice before, different times different people, and they both said the same exact thing! and it kinda aligns with this character...

Maybe it's not that big of a deal and I'm over analyzing again lol. It's in my nature after all. I was hoping an alterhuman blog could help me out with this... Thank you for reading :)

So, I obviously can't answer any of this for you for sure, but I have some thoughts.

First: Truthfully, it's hard for me to come up with a lot of solid purely-mundane explanations for all of this, but I'm sure they're there. My best shot: Past life readings might be similar because they're in some regard based on you, and from a purely mundane perspective, it's possible the readers are picking up on aspects of your current self and extrapolating upon them, which logically might lead them to similar answers. It's possible that your experiences lining up with this character really is just coincidence - if you encounter enough characters in media, odds are that eventually you're going to trip on one that's very similar to yourself - and that doesn't make the label of "fictionkin" any less accurate, because what is that word if not shorthand for "this character/species is very similar to my experiences, so much so that it's easiest to get across my experiences by simply saying I am them despite any small differences they might be" anyway, regardless of the why-explanation that any given individual may attach to that?

That aside, and I realize this part is not answering your question, but I think it may be worth examining in the process of questioning this: Why does the idea of this being something spiritual scare you so much?

To be clear: this is not me saying I think it is, or even that you have to accept it as a possibility or anything. But if you're up for it, then examining that question, assuming you don't already know the answer (because you very well might know and just not have wanted to tell me, which is totally understandable), may give you some insights not just into this, but into a lot of your own rationale for things, which I think is good practice to have a good grasp on. If it is something that ends up making sense to you best through a spiritual lens, why would that be bad for you? ("Because it would contradict my previous beliefs in a big way" is a valid answer here, by the way, just one that then invites more questions, such as "am I letting my biases prevent me from changing my beliefs based on new information, and if so is that also a thing that might be happening with more important things, like political beliefs and whatnot, or is this just genuinely not convincing enough evidence for me?")

Anyway, existential crisis induction aside, other people got further mundane explanations for anon's experiences here?

[neuroprincess]

Just a rant here...

I was just talking about a subjetc that triggered many memories of when I was a teenager, WHY THE FUCK DO WE NOT TALK MORE ABOUT SEXUAL PREDATORY WOMEN? As a teenager I fell into the trap of "you look too mature for your age" or "you're so smart, so this and that, etc", not phrases spoken by men but women, I was just a 14/15 year old girl finding out about my sexuality and thinking I was in love with a 24 year old woman because she was the only one who "validated" me. So I ended up in tears feeling like shit when she got tired of me, then along came 24, 28 and even 33 women who used the same clichéd phrases, giving me some attention and I really felt special about it (mostly because I was a child prodigy and thought no one my age understood me, yes, I was a teen shit), they reinforced. At 16 I deprived myself of several things of being a teenager because according to the woman I was with "this is not mature", are psychological reinforcements for the shit that I already faced from the teenage crisis. Male teen predators suck as hell, but I think female predators have more emotional manipulation over teenagers, easily.

I also largely blame the fanfic media tsc tsc especially wattpad tsc tsc, teenagers read this, fanfics that basically romanticize female teachers with much younger students, mature women sleeping with girls. I wasn't the only one who find such a story while researching lgbt+ history, was I? In 2016 it was the theme that had the most in this niche, the stories are still there and have new ones. And unfortunately there are still stories, fanfics and the like that normalize this. And it's all very beautiful, romanticized... Protective, for being with a woman. When not so. It becomes a relationship about power when there is a big difference in age and one is an adult and other not. I'm going to have to use myself as an example again, sorry, but I was 16 and I was with someone aged 24 (almost 25) who always used her age in her favor, like "I know I'm doing it and telling you to do it because you're just a teenager and I'm an adult, don't do shit" and acted as "boss" in the relationship in every way because she was the "mature" one. It was about her being able and I not, about her knowing I wasn't, it was about how she attacked my self-esteem with small and big things, and I know a lot of girls go through something similar. I am very afraid of those who use their gender to get away with this type of psychological abuse (and other types of abuse) in same-sex relationships with teenagers. It's not talked about enough, about women looking for teenagers who don't know what they're doing or are in fragile moments for their own pleasure (and sense of power). Making it clear that I am talking about the age difference between ADULTS AND TEENAGERS, age difference between adult people is totally okay when are healthy and don't have this question of power. It pisses me off that there are still female writers who normalize this shit, I think I've seen three or four one shots with Wanda or Natasha with teenage readers, girl, TOTALLY NOT. And even though it has some dark tags, it can still be considered fucking pedophilia, it's a 16 teenager being coerced by adults to have sex. Dude, it's ok to write dark (I respect those who do, I'm not judging, everyone has their own tastes), but at least don't put teenagers in it. And damn, this content is so accessible to minors on multiple platforms, I bet there's a 1Xs year old reading this and thinking "Oh, an adult can be interested in me like this? Okay, sounds... Interesting?", sometimes they just get into things like that and don't experience anything healthy until adulthood. I have a friend 3 years younger and at 17 she was with someone almost 30, she read these fanfics/stories, idealized a mature and experienced woman as in what she read, at the end of the relationship that bitch stalked and used her until I had to intervene. Now she's having to recover from all the shitty emotional abuse.

Idk, I'm just rambling, but in conclusion I condemn anyone who puts and fetishizes teenagers and children (I love and hate AO3 at the same time), who normalizes relationship between women and underage girls as if it's something beautiful, just tell the truth, they are sexual predators as well as older men who prey on teenagers. Internet is a trap, there is no control, we just have to guide and protect these kids. Sorry for the rant, but I just got mad when I realized it still happens and hardly anyone talks about this shit. If you're a fucking teenager, don't think that's normal, they are adults wanting to take advantage of you just like men. If you have a teen sibling or relative or friend watch out for female predators too, not just males. They are still not fully formed people and need protection, especially lgbt+, we don't know their reality, how they see themselves or see the world, in the end they can be really fragile prey for these women.

[bradley-martin]

Heyy I'm reading your YOI fic "The Bachelors" and it is one of the most entertaining, amazing fics I have ever read!!

I love it so much, your characterisation is beautiful, the writing is brilliant and I love the plot!

I was hoping you might finish the fic? I've just finished the first chapter but I'm hooked and was sad to see you've only posted half of it. If you do choose not to finish it, could you please tell me what you had hoped for the rest of the plot? Like how you would have ended it?

Thank you, I love your work and am planning on reading all your fics on ao3 :))

💗💗💗💗💗💗

Okay, so I first saw this a couple months ago (I don’t know why I didn’t see it when you originally sent it, several months before that), and so I have no idea if you’ll ever see this. However, it did spiral me into a bit of an existential crisis about that fic and caused me to reread it. The thing is, I probably would’ve finished the fic if we ever got a season two, but considering that seems like it’ll never happen, I just don’t think I’d ever go back to it. (I do have half of a Leoji oneshot written that I might finish and post if I feel inspired whenever I end up rewatching the show, but that’s a different story)

Also — thanks for your kind words! The fic was a lot of work from both me and my co-author @florence--pugh so I’m glad it’s still being appreciated!

Spoilers for the rest of the fic under the cut.

Chapter 6

Location: Namale Island Resort (Fiji)

Group date: one of those offensive cultural appropriation-type dates that The Bachelor loves to do. Leo and Guang Hong have an almost kiss.

One-on-one date: Yuri and Otabek finally have their first one-on-one (as promised in ch5). They go snorkeling and mostly just hang out. Production is true to their word and just lets them have a nice, romantic time. Otabek gives Yuri some kind of cute, small gift. Yuri ends the date being completely convinced that Otabek only acts this way around him.

Eliminated: Chris

Chapter 7

This would have been a super long chapter

Location: Boston

One-one-one date: Phichit. It goes pretty well, and production basically makes Otabek give Phichit a (chaste) kiss at the end. Phichit doesn’t get the rose on the date because this is the episode before hometowns.

Group date: competitive group date! Sometime towards the end of the date (JJ and Yuri have been at each other’s throats the whole time) or at the cocktail party, JJ tells Yuri that Otabek only likes him sexually and tells him “sluts get cut”. Yuri punches JJ. Production makes Otabek go comfort JJ instead of talking to Yuri. Yuri is starting to panic. Leo gets the group date rose.

During the following day, production does interviews with all the contestants about what they would do if they were married to Otabek (because of his figure skating career and travel). Yuri overhears Phichit’s enthusiastic answer and freaks out. He learns about the kiss and extra freaks out.

The cocktail party is canceled!

Eliminated: Phichit

Yuri runs away in the middle of the night without telling anyone (literally). He gets a burner phone and gets Viktor’s help. Yuri is about to fly to LA to stay in Viktor’s LA home (Viktor and Yuuri are currently hanging out in Europe on vacation). Otabek shows up at the airport and they have a rom com-esque scene where Otabek confesses that he’s in love with Yuri. Yuri still would have left, but Otabek doesn’t try to convince him not to leave; rather, he says that he’ll go with Yuri. Yuri agrees, and they fly off to LA. Viktor’s driver is there and takes them to Viktor’s LA house. They basically just hang out there and have a lot of sex (offscreen) and hide Viktor’s Grammy’s. At some point the next day, Yuri realizes that they have to go back because it’s better for Otabek’s career and he doesn’t want him to face legal repercussions. Otabek reluctantly agrees. They tell Sara and Mila where they are, and they spend another day hanging out in Viktor’s house having a great time.

Back at the house, no one knows what’s happening, but they get told that Otabek and Yuri had to fly out early for Yuri’s hometown date (since they do go to Moscow). In fact, Yuri and Otabek do end up leaving from LA.

Chapter 8

Hometowns!

Yuri: Moscow — Otabek meets Yuri’s grandfather and they all have a great time. Obviously it’s the most home-ish for both of them.

Leo: Seattle (music)

Guang Hong (visual arts/culture)

JJ: Quebec

Basically, while Otabek and Yuri are in Moscow, there would be a big chunk of the chapter following Leo and Guang Hong sneaking out of their hotel and hanging out in Seattle (where they both live). They have a ‘friend’ date and do something like roller skating. They exchange numbers. There’s a cliche thing where Leo’s dog loves Guang Hong way more than Otabek. While they’re out, they get attacked by a couple members of Guang Hong’s extended family. No serious injuries or anything (Guang Hong fights back and wins) but some drama ensues. Basically, Guang Hong ends up thinking that Leo should hate him.

Eliminated: Guang Hong

Leo basically has a complete, sobbing breakdown on camera because Guang Hong is gone, but, no, he does not yet realize he’s in love with him.

Chapter 9

Fantasy Suite Week!

Location: Niagara Falls, Canada (the producers make snarky comments about how they had to reschedule their final location from some cool international destination to Canada because they blew their travel budget on Yuri’s hometown/they didn’t expect Yuri to stick around this long)

Otabek makes it very clear on camera that he is not planning to have sex during his fantasy suites, mostly so that no one can make comments about Leo losing his virginity.

Leo — Sara tells Leo he has to finally confess his love for Otabek if he wants to stick around. This spirals Leo into an existential crisis about whether or not he actually does have feelings for Otabek. They go ice skating, and Leo is just happy that he doesn’t have to go near to the Falls. Leo realizes that Otabek has no romantic feelings for him, which helps him realize that he also doesn’t feel that way about Otabek. Once they’re off camera on their overnight date, they basically spend the whole time being friends and chatting about how great Guang Hong and Yuri are.

JJ — Helicopter ride. Otabek eliminates him before the fantasy suite.

Yuri —They go on an ice wine tour. Yuri finally confesses his love for Otabek on camera. They’re both very cute and happy and have their fantasy suite date.

The chapter cuts over to Guang Hong, now back home in Seattle, as he watches episode 8 airing live. He sees Leo sobbing when he leaves.

Chapter 10

Finale!

Otabek officially breaks it off with Leo before they can even get to the final day (so Leo never has to pretend they’re going to get engaged). Leo runs back to Seattle as quickly as possible and goes to the accounting firm Guang Hong works at. All of his work friends are delighted and giggling and embarrassing. Leo and Guang Hong leave and go walk around. Leo confesses that he’s realized he’s in love with Guang Hong. Guang Hong, of course, reciprocates, and they get together officially.

Meanwhile, back on the show, Otabek and Yuri consider leaving again, but then do the traditional proposal speeches and stuff for TV. Yuri pretends to hate it but they both really do get swept up in the romance of it all. They officially get engaged.

In the intervening months, Otabek and Yuri have already gotten married. Otabek gets Yuri roses a lot and Yuri pretends to hate it. The fic would end with them sitting around ready to watch the next season.

[audiogrizzly]

Game of the Year 2022

It’s mid-December (at the time of writing) and that means I am going to slave over this hot keyboard to bring you my games of 2022!

Again, very little is going to be written about the life front.  I have lost 60 lbs since the summer, which is great.  Managed to go abroad for the first time since the pandemic  and there’s an ASDA Express that’s opened locally to me.  Best year ever.

Onto games though.  Not much in the way of new systems.  I got an Xbox Series X and a Steam Deck, just new ways of playing games I already have really.  Although back in January I also managed to basically recover my Xbox 360 collection, I originally sold them all off when I got my PS4 9 years ago.  A nice walk down memory lane.

This year's top games have a sort of an indie flavour, which is most unlike me.  There are some AAA tier titles in there.  Plus there are also some omissions as a few games have just come out here in December which i may be able to get through before the end of the month, but Overwatch has basically taken over my gaming time again.  So Marvel’s Midnight Suns, Warhammer 40K Darktide, Crisis Core FF7 Reunion and Need For Speed Unbound will have to wait until next year for my time.  Also this year, I am afraid that Elden Ring did not manage to capture my attention as I struggle to get into those types of games (not action RPGs, but the type where you basically get punished for dying when the game is hard enough as it is), and there’s also a small handful of games I wanted to play but have yet to do so.

So, onto my list, just like last year, I will start with my game of the year:

TehRadge’s game of 2022!

OlliOlli World

It’s weird that I was so excited to play this considering that I wasn’t exactly all over the first 2 although I did appreciate what they were trying to do - recreate the Tony hawk experience in 2 dimensions.

The 3rd in the series has a lot more charm.  Funny, zany, non-irritating characters, a groovy soundtrack and the same finger gymnastic gameplay that Activision's classic series offered for many years before it dried up.  OlliOlli World had me hooked as soon as I saw it being previewed the year before.

And yes, this is the first time I have bestowed my “GOTY” accolade to something that can be described as an “indie” tier game.  In the past I have awarded games like Hotline Miami as my favourite game on a specific system (Vita in 2013) and a fair few have featured somewhere in top 5s and honourable mentions but never right at the top.

It’s a shame it doesn’t last long when you’re working your way through each of the “zones” meeting colourful and charming characters along the way, but there is plenty to keep you entertained long after the 6 hours or so that you need to get to the last map are over.  The way the game handles its social play side with an asynchronous multiplayer mode is great, offering you generated maps to share with your friends to compete for high scores, plus season based challenges to compete with strangers.  There’s also all the leaderboard support you can expect from a game like this.

It’s also highly “clippable” which is a term that I think the current generation uses a fair bit.  And it makes sense, each run is only going to last around a minute or so, making it easy to grab and edit footage whenever you feel you have done something outstanding.

And those characters, I want to cuddle them all.  I especially appreciate the way that some of the more cringeworthy skater speak is offset by the “Dad” character (named after his father, gives one of the other characters pocket money despite him being a grown man and not his son), the game has an irreverent sense of humour that adds to the charm in a big way.

Even after playing the 2 excellent DLC packs that came as part of the season pass, and old school type of season pass, there’s no microtransactions, loot boxes or FOMO-inducing battle pass type mechanics here, I still found myself playing through it all again on a second platform when the game went on sale during the autumn.

A great game that will stay with me for a long while yet and will undoubtedly fail to age.

Runner Up 1

Neon White

I should point out that these runners up and honourable mentions are not in any particular order.

Another indie title, and another “run” based game which uses online leaderboards to keep things competitive.  Neon White is also as we speak making its way to more platforms, which is great if it means more people can play it.

Designed by the same person who gave us the strange but funny Donut County, Neon White is a fast paced 1st person action platformer where you’re not only against the clock (getting better times allows better medals which help progression go faster), you’re also managing weapons you pick up that offer limited ammo and one-time use secondary abilities.  As well as being a test of your platforming skills, there’s also a puzzle element, do you expel all the ammunition in the pistol you picked up against a set of enemies, or do you drop it in order to use the extended jump it gives you in order to get to a higher platform and use another weapon to kill the baddies?

Highly stylish, I would only say that the story in this is trying a little too hard.  I never believe “gangster” type characters to also be anime loving nerds, I kind of feel it to be a little pandering, especially when you know it’s been made in the west.  A bit of a hot take there, some might think, but it did get to me while I was playing it.

Now that it's coming to more platforms, I may pick it up again and play it elsewhere, like I did with OlliOlli World

Runner Up 2

Stray

Technically an indie game too, this is the title that many will consider to be among their best games of the year too.  The cat factor definitely helps, many people seem to love their felines and playing as a wee furry creature who meows at the touch of a button, jumps on top of ledges scaring the crap out of NPCs (despite them being robots) and knocking things over is no doubt an appeal to many.

Personally, I loved the neon-drenched towns and post apocalyptic versions of our world, unravelling mysteries as a silent protagonist who can somehow understand the robots they are encountering and generally saving the day while working your way back to your pack (that you are initially separated from, one of the most heart wrenching scenes this year I should add).

It’s also been a while since I listed a game I don't even own as one of my faves of the year.  I played this via the game catalogue on PlayStation Plus.  Now that I remember that, I may just keep an eye out for a sale or a physical release so I can have this forever.  An intriguing world and a likeable protagonist, what more can you ask for?

Honourable Mentions (again, no particular order)

Horizon Forbidden West

The follow up to my best game of 2017.  Has less of an impact the second time round, but still one of my favourite worlds in a game of this genre

Cult of the Lamb

Loved this, narrowly missed out of being in my top 3.  I do wish there was more to its endgame.

God of War Ragnarok

Similar to Horizon, loved the previous game, also a GOTY in the year it came out.  As a sequel, it’s great, I’ve just been here before

Kirby and the Forgotten Land

A big surprise, never played a Kirby game before, perhaps the nearest thing to a traditional Nintendo action adventure that came out this year

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Shredder's Revenge

Was really hyped for this, especially after falling in love with Streets of Rage 4.  Love the fact that retro 2D beat ‘em ups are popping up all over the place.

Arcade Paradise

The weirdest game I played this year, especially at the start when you’re just putting laundry on all the time.  Make me remember the days when i used to work backshifts and closed up shop.  A story for another time though

Shout outs:

Here are some additional games I enjoyed playing this year

Overwatch 2 (more of a sort of “I got back into it this year” type of thing)

Call of Duty Modern Warfare II

Bayonetta 3

Splatoon 3

Multiversus 

Ghostwire: Tokyo

Tiny Tina's Wonderlands

Looking forward to next year:

Fire Emblem Engage

Forspoken

Dead Space

Destiny 2 Lightfall

Star Wars Jedi Survivor

Resident Evil 4

Diablo 4

Zelda Tears of the Kingdom

Street Fighter 6 

Suicide Squad

Starfield

Redfall

Hyper Light Breaker

Metal Slug Tactics

Bomb Rush Cyberfunk

Phantom Fury

Hades 2

Dead Cells Castlevania DLC

Horizon FW DLC

Here’s to a smashing 2023!