#so if you know of a good one throw it my way <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[gf2bellamy]

surprise — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: garcia and derek go into spencer's apartment, while you're sleeping in his bed. the problem? no one knows you and spencer are dating content warnings: secret relationship , reader also works in the bau a/n: hiii !!! i'm back to my secret relationship roots and i hope you like this <3 bc i had so much fun writing this ( i've been writing it for ages and i'm finally happy with it)

"No, no," Spencer shook his head frantically, his voice almost pleading as Derek expertly maneuvered the car into the parking spot at his apartment complex.

"Why not?" Garcia's voice was full of curiosity as she looked back at Spencer from the passenger seat.

The trio had spent the whole afternoon shopping for your birthday, which was just around the corner. Garcia, as usual, had already gotten everything ready—gifts, decorations, the whole nine yards. She even had a closet near her office packed with presents for you, waiting for the big reveal at the surprise party she was planning to throw at the BAU.

The whole mission was meant to be a fun, collaborative effort, the three of them picking out something special for you to celebrate.

But now, as Derek parked the car and they were all about to get out, Garcia’s sudden idea was making Spencer break into a cold sweat.

"I mean, we can just hang out at your place for a bit, right?" Garcia asked, her tone more like a suggestion than a question. She had already unbuckled her seatbelt, clearly excited about the idea.

Spencer swallowed hard, his fingers gripping the seatbelt.

"I don’t know if that’s such a good idea," he said quickly, trying to sound casual, though the nerves were practically radiating off of him.

"I have… stuff to do." His words stumbled, but Derek caught on immediately.

"You've got a date or something?" Derek teased, raising an eyebrow. "Come on, Reid, live a little."

Spencer’s face turned a light shade of pink, but he quickly deflected with a nervous laugh. "No, no date," he replied, but the nervous energy in his tone was giving him away. "I just—uh—need to get inside."

Garcia didn't miss a beat. "Come on, Spencer," she insisted with that gleam of excitement in her eyes. "It’s been forever since we just hung out at your place. You know, a little downtime."

But Spencer’s mind was racing, heart pounding.

The last thing he needed was for Derek and Garcia to come upstairs and see you there.

He knew you were in his apartment right now, sound asleep in his bed, curled up in one of his sweaters. This morning, you had practically melted into him that morning, clinging to him as he reluctantly told you he had to go.

You had been so warm, your face tucked into the side of his neck, holding him like you didn’t want him to leave. He’d rubbed soothing circles on your back, whispering that he’d be back soon, but you hadn't been ready to let go. Eventually, he had managed to peel himself away, promising to return as quickly as possible.

Now, his heart pounded as he watched Derek and Garcia hop out of the car without hesitation.

"No, no, no—" Spencer muttered under his breath, scrambling to open his own door. He practically stumbled out, rushing after them, but they were already making their way toward his apartment building.

They didn’t even wait for him.

"Of course," he thought bitterly as he hurried behind them. He knew he was too late. There was no way he could stop them now. His only hope was that you were still asleep.

And there was a high chance that you were.

Spencer knew your sleep schedule well—knew exactly how you curled up beneath his sheets, how deep you slept when wrapped in one of his sweaters. If he could just get inside before them and shut his bedroom door, everything would be fine.

As they reached the top floor, Spencer’s fingers fumbled in his pocket for his keys. His hands were practically shaking as he yanked them out, quickly jamming the correct one into the lock.

Slowly, he pushed the door open just a crack, peeking inside, praying you weren’t—

"Dr. Reid. What are you doing?" Garcia’s voice was laced with amusement as she leaned against the doorframe, watching him with a smirk.

Before Spencer could stop her, she pushed the door open wider, stepping inside.

Panic surged through him. His breath caught in his throat.

But—

You were nowhere to be seen.

His eyes darted toward the bedroom door. It was closed.

No sign of you.

Spencer swallowed hard, trying to compose himself as Garcia and Derek strolled inside, completely oblivious to the absolute terror he had just experienced.

Spencer quickly shut the door behind them, tossing his jacket over the nearest chair—something he never did. Normally, he was meticulous about hanging it up properly, but right now, his priority was making sure nothing seemed off.

Slipping off his shoes, he warily watched as Garcia and Derek made a beeline for his kitchen.

As they rummaged through his cabinets, Spencer seized the opportunity.

He darted down the hallway toward the bedroom, his socked feet barely making a sound on the hardwood floor. He cracked the door open just enough to peek inside, and there you were, still fast asleep, curled up under the blankets with his sweater draped loosely over your shoulders.

The sight made his chest tighten with affection, and a small, involuntary smile tugged at his lips.

He closed the door gently, careful not to make a sound, and hurried back to the kitchen before they could notice his absence.

Crisis averted.

He stopped in his tracks, however, when he saw the disaster unfolding before him.

“What are you doing?” Spencer asked, exasperated, watching as Derek and Garcia rummaged through his cabinets like raccoons.

Garcia, mid-bite into a granola bar, waved a hand dismissively. “Relax, genius, we’re just looking for snacks. By the way—” she held up the granola bar with a raised brow, “—I thought you hated these?”

Spencer froze.

He did. He never ate those granola bars.

But you did.

You loved them, so he always kept some stocked just for you.

He scrambled for an excuse, clearing his throat. “Uh—I just wanted to give them another try,” he mumbled, avoiding Garcia’s sharp, suspicious gaze.

Derek, now chewing a piece of toast, barely looked up. “Yeah, okay,” he said, mouth full.

Spencer shot him an unamused glare. “Can the two of you stop eating my food?”

“No,” Derek replied, taking another bite, completely unbothered. 

Spencer sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You know, most people ask before raiding someone’s kitchen,” he muttered, though there was no real bite to his words. 

Garcia giggled, popping the last bite of granola bar into her mouth. “Oh, come on, Spence. You love us. Besides, you’re acting super weird today. What’s going on with you?” 

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly, and he quickly looked away, busying himself with straightening a stack of papers on the counter.

“Nothing’s going on,” he said, his voice a little too high-pitched. “I’m just… tired. It’s been a long day.” 

Garcia and Derek just exchanged a look.

Spencer sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He needed to get them out of here before they found something they weren’t supposed to. 

Like, say… you.

“Do you think she’ll like my gift?” Garcia asked, peeking at the bag on the counter, her fingers fidgeting with the ribbon.

“Most definitely, babygirl,” Derek answered without hesitation, dusting the crumbs off his hands after finishing his toast. “She’s been talking about it for weeks.”

Spencer, still trying to recover from his near heart attack, nodded in agreement. “Yeah, she’ll love it,” he said, meeting Garcia’s eyes with a small, reassuring smile.

Garcia beamed, clearly pleased with herself. “Oh, she’ll love yours, boy genius,” she added, pointing at Spencer. “You know her so well.” Her voice carried a teasing lilt, her grin mischievous.

“Maybe too well,” Derek chimed in, eyebrows raised as he leaned casually against the counter, arms crossed. His grin was knowing, smug.

Spencer stiffened.

“When are you finally gonna ask her out?” Derek asked, his grin widening.

Spencer felt his face heat up instantly. He blushed, but not for the reason they thought.

He blushed because he remembered the day it happened. 

The way his heart had pounded in his chest, his palms sweaty as he rehearsed the words in his head over and over. He’d been so nervous, he’d almost convinced himself to back out.

But then he’d seen you—your smile, the way your eyes lit up when you noticed him approaching—and all his doubts had melted away. 

When he finally asked, his voice trembling slightly, your reaction had been everything he’d hoped for. Your face had lit up, and you’d nodded so quickly, it was almost comical.

“Yes!” you’d said, your voice filled with so much enthusiasm that it made him laugh. In that moment, all his anxiety had washed away, replaced by a giddy, almost overwhelming sense of relief and joy. 

“Aww, how cute!” Garcia practically vibrated with excitement, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she pointed an accusatory finger at Spencer. “He’s blushing,” she sang, her grin stretching impossibly wide. 

Spencer groaned, shaking his head in exasperation. “Did you two come into my apartment just to eat my food and make fun of me?” he asked, arms crossed.

“Pretty much,” Derek said, completely unfazed as he made his way back toward the fridge.

Spencer let out a sharp breath, trying to mask his anxiety. He knew you were still asleep, but that didn’t stop the lingering fear that their loud voices might wake you up.

But then—

Derek stopped in front of the fridge.

His eyes locked onto the calendar hanging there, and a slow, amused smirk spread across his face.

“Look at this, sweetheart,” Derek said, turning toward Garcia, his voice thick with amusement.

Garcia leaned in, her eyes widening as she saw what Derek was pointing at. There, on the calendar, your birthday was circled in bold red marker, surrounded by a carefully drawn heart.

Garcia gasped, clapping her hands together in delight. “Oh. My. God,” she said, her voice rising with every word. “Spencer Reid, you are down bad!”

Spencer felt his face burn even hotter. He wished he could disappear into the floor—or maybe just teleport to another dimension entirely. Anything to escape this moment.

Because the truth was, he hadn’t been the one to draw that heart on the calendar. It had been you.

He remembered the moment perfectly.

The day he hung the calendar up, you had been standing right there beside him, watching with an amused little smile. Then, without hesitation, you had grabbed the nearest marker—a red one, of course—and went straight to your birthday month, drawing a huge heart around the date.

"So you don’t forget."

He had chuckled, shaking his head as he stepped behind you, wrapping his arms loosely around your waist. Then, he had pressed a soft kiss to your temple, murmuring against your skin—

"I don’t forget anything. Especially not something like that."

You had blushed.

And Spencer had loved making you blush.

Now, standing in his kitchen, faced with his coworkers’ relentless teasing, he was struck with the embarrassing realization that Derek and Garcia thought he was some hopelessly lovesick teenager who had scribbled hearts around his crush’s name in a notebook.

(Which—if he was being completely honest—wasn’t that far from the truth.)

But what was he supposed to say?

Tell them the truth? Admit that the woman he’d been secretly dating for months—the same woman they were here shopping for—was currently asleep in his bed down the hall?

Absolutely not.

But then—

The choice was taken away from him anyway.

Suddenly, the sound of running water echoed from down the hallway, causing both Garcia and Derek to freeze mid-sentence. Their heads snapped toward the source of the noise, their eyes widening as they stared at Spencer.

Spencer stared back, equally wide-eyed, his mind racing. You were in the bathroom, happily brushing your teeth, completely unaware that two of your—and Spencer’s—coworkers were standing in the kitchen, mere feet away.

“Spencer Walter Reid,” Garcia gasped, her voice loud enough to carry through the apartment. She clutched Derek’s arm like she was about to faint. “Is there someone here?”

“No, no,” Spencer said quickly, shaking his head so vigorously that his curls bounced. “It’s probably just my washing machine turning on.”

As if on cue, the bathroom door creaked open, and then closed again. Spencer’s heart sank.

“Oh no,” he mumbled under his breath, his stomach twisting into knots.

And then, there you were.

You padded into the kitchen, blissfully unaware of the chaos you were about to unleash.

You were wearing Spencer’s boxers, which hung loosely around your hips, and one of his Star Wars shirts that was far too big for you, the hem brushing against your thighs. Your hair was slightly messy, and you were still rubbing sleep from your eyes.

Then you stopped.

Blinking, you finally seemed to register the two extra people in the room.

Garcia. Derek.

Standing there.

Staring.

At you.

In Spencer’s clothes.

Two pairs of eyes stared at you. And you stared back, your own eyes wide, your brain struggling to process the scene in front of you. Spencer, meanwhile, was staring at the ground like it might suddenly open up and swallow him whole.

Garcia broke the silence, her voice low and uncharacteristically quiet—something almost more shocking than if she’d screamed.

“Am I… dreaming?” she whispered, clutching Derek’s arm like a lifeline. She looked pale, her usual vibrant energy replaced by sheer disbelief as she took in your disheveled state.

Derek, for once, seemed just as stunned. “I… no, I don’t think so,” he said hesitantly, his usual confidence replaced by uncharacteristic uncertainty.

He blinked at you, then at Spencer, then back at you, as if trying to piece together what exactly was happening.

“Spencer,” you hissed, your voice low but urgent. “What the hell is happening?” You tugged self-consciously at the hem of his Star Wars shirt, trying to pull it down further.

Normally, you were the picture of professionalism at work, always impeccably dressed and composed.

But here you were, standing in Spencer’s kitchen in his boxers and an oversized shirt, your hair a mess and your face still flushed from sleep.

It was beyond awkward—it was mortifying.

Spencer finally looked up, his expression a mix of guilt and panic. “I, uh… this isn’t—” he started, but Garcia cut him off.

“Oh no, no, no,” Garcia said, her voice rising with every word, her hands flailing dramatically. “You do not get to ‘this isn’t’ us right now. This is happening. This is definitely happening.”

She pointed a finger at you, then at Spencer, her eyes wide.

“You two. Together. In his apartment. Wearing his clothes. Oh my gosh, this is the best day of my life.”

You froze, your cheeks burning as you tugged self-consciously at the hem of Spencer’s shirt. “Penelope, it’s not—” you started, but she cut you off with a wave of her hand.

“Nope, nope, nope,” she said, shaking her head so vigorously that her curls bounced. “No explanations, no excuses. This is happening. I have been waiting for this moment for years.”

Spencer groaned, running a hand through his already messy hair. “Garcia, please—”

“No,” she interrupted again, her voice rising an octave. “You don’t get to ‘Garcia, please’ me right now. This is huge. This is monumental. This is—”

“A disaster,” Spencer muttered under his breath, though the faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

Derek, who had been quietly observing the scene with an amused grin, finally chimed in. “Man, Reid, I gotta hand it to you. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “This is so embarrassing,” you muttered, though there was a hint of laughter in your voice.

Garcia, meanwhile, was practically bouncing on her toes, her excitement palpable. “Oh, this is going to be so much fun. I can’t wait to tell—”

“No!” Spencer and you said in unison, your voices sharp enough to make Garcia freeze mid-sentence.

“You are not telling anyone,” Spencer said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Garcia pouted, but there was a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Fine, fine. But only because I’m feeling generous. For now.”

Derek chuckled, shaking his head. “Man, this is going to be the best office drama ever.”

You groaned again, burying your face in your hands. “I’m going back to bed,” you muttered, turning on your heel and heading back down the hallway.

As you disappeared into the bedroom, Garcia and Derek turned to Spencer, their expressions a mix of amusement and disbelief.

“You’ve got some explaining to do, Pretty Boy,” Derek said, his grin widening.

Spencer sighed, knowing there was no escaping this. “Yeah,” he said, his voice resigned. “I know.”

[calicocreatures]

[ID 1:

In @/hot2go's addition, a passage of a book reads as follows.

When I am feeling dreary, annoyed, and generally unimpressed by life, I imagine what it would be like to come back to this world for just a day after having been dead. I imagine how sentimental I would feel about the very things I once found stupid, hateful or mundane. [italics] Oh, there's a light switch! I haven't seen a light switch in so long! I didn't realize how much I missed light switches! Oh! Oh! And look—the stairs up to our front porch are still completely cracked! Hello, cracks! Let me get a good look at you. And there's my neighbor, standing there, fantastically alive, just the same, still punctuating her sentences with [end italics] you know what I'm saying? [italics] Why did that used to bother me? It's so ... endearing. [end italics]

End ID 1.]

[ID 2: A four-panel comic by @/ChrisHallbeck.

Panel 1: A stick figure sitting at a desk with their laptop throws their hands up and looks dismayed. "I'm an idiot! I've been putting off this project forever but now that I've started it, I can see this is what I was meant to do! I can't believe I wasted five years avoiding it."

Another stick figure standing next to the first says, "Pretend it was fifteen years."

Panel 2: The stick figure at the desk looks confused. "What?"

The stick figure by the desk explains, "You actually put this off for fifteen years and traveled back in time to right now. You get to redo the next decade the way you've always wanted."

Panel 3: A close-up of the stick figure at the desk looking stunned.

Panel 4: Both stick figures smile. The one at the laptop bends over the keys. Sound effect text says, "click clack clickity click click clack."

End ID.]

i like to pretend i already died and asked god to send me back to earth so i can swim in lakes again and see mountains and get my heart broken and love my friends and cry so hard in the bathroom and go grocery shopping 1,000 more times. and that i promised i would never forget the miracle of being here

[bootycallin]

hi period sex w vi cuz im on my period and needy <3 cw: wlw men fuck off. obviously period sex. this is messy and nasty, don’t like it don’t read it. obv blood. vi lowkey has a blood kink. lotsa titty loving. u cry a little. lowkey projecting. not proofread.

vi knows exactly when your period happens. she just does.

when your legs start aching and you complain about your chest being sore when she tries to lay on it and you’re snappier and more emotional than usual, she knows. so, of course, she takes that as a chance to spoil you. buys you a bunch of chocolate and sweets and cups or entire body with her arms when you’re sleeping.

one little problem, though, are the cramps. she herself has never really experienced them. most the time she’s just achey and sensitive, but you? you’re constantly complaining of cramps, doubling over while standing, a hand on your lower belly. you often tried to tell her, it’s just fine. but she can’t handle it. what? she’s a good girlfriend, she can’t handle seeing her baby in pain!

oh, and most of all, vi’s a sexual creature. her libido’s not insane, but it’s pretty damn high. she could’ve sworn her sex drive lowered significantly the last time she broke up with someone, but then you came around and she’s in puberty all over again.

and she couldn’t care less if you’re bleeding. they say sex relieves cramps, right?

when she starts kissing you, all tongue and teeth and spit, she’s already wet. it’s been, what, three days without sex? she should be able to handle it, but ever since she started dating you, she’s a fucking machine (no pun intended). literally anywhere. bed, couch, bathroom, kitchen island, counter, balcony. any place around the house is game to her. she claims she’s just “appreciating her treasure”, which… is she not?

her hands are roaming, squeezing and squishing any bit of soft skin, fingertips pressing into your flesh, groaning into your mouth. she’s between your legs, her torso on the lower half of your own. her hand slips under your shirt, sneaky, big palm resting on your breast and squeezing the plump flesh. it pulls a moan from you, a whimpery noise. it was pleasure that slightly mixed with pain, breasts extra sensitive and swollen—hell, vi loves it.

“vi—“ your breath hitched, just briefly pulling away to catch your breath.

“sshh.” she shushes you. her tongue peeks out from her lips to lick the seam of your own, seeking entrance and muffling the moan you let out with her own lips. her fingers squeeze, squish, thumbs running over sensitive and pebbled nipples in a way that makes you pull away from her just to throw your head back and moan.

“baby.” vi practically growled—it’s like she’s a rabid animal or something. she tugs at your nipples, relishing in the way you whine and cry. your small hands grasp at her wrists, trying to slow her down.

“vi, wait…!” you cry out. it’s too much. she’s just barely started with you and you’re almost crying—she knew you got sensitive during this time, but she didn’t know it was so much. cute.

she did stop; with a considerable amount of effort, might you add. her fingers let go of your nipples just to push your shirt up, until your pretty tits showed to her. vi’s just obsessed with how they look, pretty puffy nipples perking, shape swollen due to hormones. not that your body’s any less perfect when you’re not on your period, but she can’t help appreciating when your body changes and you look just as fucking good.

vi pressed a quick, butterfly kiss to one of your tits, kissing the other one, then down your sternum. she kissed down your tummy, lower, until she was right above your pussy. she felt like a feral animal. she swore she could smell you. it’s like her entire brain chemistry just immediately changes when she’s next to your cunt, and she immediately can only think of pushing her tongue inside you.

“vi, wait,” you stop her just as her fingers hook under your loose shorts, under the band of your panties. “you know i’m—“

“i don’t fucking care, princess,” vi muttered, almost sounding dangerous, she pulled your shorts down, tugging your legs up to remove them and then putting your legs over her shoulders, face to face with your cunt. you’re wet, and you have to blame it on hormones, because there’s no way you can get this wet thinking of your girlfriend eating you out while you—

you can’t really complain because she was quickly pulling your panties to the side, pressing her tongue flat against your puffy, red folds with a downright pornographic moan.

your hand flew down to grab at her hair, tugging slightly. her sounds are nearly ferocious and she all but rips your panties off of your body. her tongue is quick, licking and lapping up blood and juices alike now without a pad covering it. it's nasty. messy and so fucking good.

"sh-shii— viii..." you drag her name out, a near sob ripping form your throat. she's not listening, drunk on how you taste. blood covers her lips, and she couldn’t give less of a fuck. she just laps it up like some sort of messier vampire, almost embarrassing enthusiasm. hungry, savoring the metallic taste that’s coyingly sweet to her, shoving her tongue into your slick home and holding your thighs open as they try to close around her on instinct.

shit, she’s not stopping anytime soon. not until you’re melting and all she can taste is you.

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 © bootycallin on tumblr. do not copy, translate or cross post without permission. ᛝ

[rhyrhy]

Venom in the veins 🕸️

Spider!Ellie x Fem Villain reader

✦ Synopsis: When trust is broken, and alliances shift. Your local friendly neighborhood spiderwoman! is forced to choose between her love and loyalty!

✦ Warnings: enemies to lovers to enemies..? Angst, violence, death/grief , language, romantic tension, familial issues. 5k words.

A/n: thank you to @s0phi3w4lt3n , because their lovely brain is helping make this possible. This is chapters 1-2. (3-7 will be separate posts!) + Ellie’s suit desc is based off this beautiful art!

October 5th

I guess I finally understand what it means to wear the weight of something bigger than yourself.

Nobody tells you how lonely this gets. They say it’s a responsibility. A privilege. But nobody warns you about the nights when your body’s so sore you can’t move, or when you have to smile at people who would hate you if they knew the whole truth.

And the worst part? I should’ve seen it coming.

I should’ve known the second I woke up with a spider bite the size of a penny and a bad feeling in my gut.

But I was just a dumb kid clinging to Joel’s leg in the ER, sure I was about to drop dead…

Being a hero wasn’t as simple as they made it look in the comics she read. It wasn’t just about the mask—it was about juggling the power, the responsibility, and the weight of knowing that, at any moment, everything could come crashing down.

And in the end? It was always a game of masks. Who’s hiding behind them, and who’s fooling who?

Ellie wasn’t the best at keeping secrets.

Especially not when she had a spider bite the , wrapped in white gauze and held together with SpongeBob bandages that did little to ease her nerves. Her pain tolerance wasn’t exactly low, but weren’t black widows deadly? She could still feel the long-gone venom burning in her bloodstream—or maybe she just thought she did.

“Joel, I’m too young to die!” A younger Ellie whined, tears streaming down her cheeks as she clung to his leg.

“You aren’t dying. They said you’ll be sore at most.” He sighed, patting her head.

“Dramatic” wasn’t the word he’d use to describe the distraught figure clinging to him like she truly believed her life depended on it. Eleanor “Ellie” Anna Williams, at the ripe age of twelve, gave her adoptive father more wrinkles than he could count.

This time, it wasn’t a scraped knee from wobbly attempts at skateboarding, or a burn on her forearm from trying to make him breakfast. It was a spider bite. She didn’t get a good look when she flung her head after the sting set in, but she was almost certain what that eight-legged creature was that had crept onto her hand while she doodled on her notebook in science class.

She rambled about it the whole way from the school’s nursing office to the emergency room. Not even the radio could drown out the frantic girl, who loved all things nature—as long as it wasn’t trying to kill her. She’d just learned to use a training bra. She couldn’t die now.

“I’m not?” she said, her green watery eyes looking up at him.

“No. Weren’t you listening to what the nice lady said? The one in blue scrubs?”

To be honest, she wasn’t. However, she did remember the woman he was referring to—and the way she made her heart race. Even now, as a young adult, Ellie would bring her up when questioned about her gay awakening.

“You’re goin’ to be fine kiddo” He bent down to her level, his Texan accent dragging out his “n”s.

Comforting her had become something Joel mastered over the years. Trying to navigate Ellie’s spectrum between smart mouth and nervous breakdowns wasn’t easy for a man in his early thirties. But he’d found a way to wedge himself somewhere right in the middle—right where she needed him.

If there was one thing Ellie learned quickly, it was that Joel knew best. With legs full of scars and scrapes and a pair of worn-out Converse that Joel begged her to throw away, Eleanor—who preferred just ‘Ellie’—skated into her high school years.

Going from Little Orphan Annie, which she hated when assholes at school called her that, to your average teenager in the big city of Seattle, everything was completely normal.

Except it wasn’t. At all.

In fact, nothing about Ellie was normal. But the unusual started small—extremely small—and Ellie didn’t know any better. At first, she thought it was just the weed she smoked with Jesse still messing with her system.

Because ever since that fateful day in seventh grade, weird, borderline supernatural things had started happening.

She couldn’t tell you exactly how it all started—at least, not without cringing through the many, many journals she kept as a teenager—but somewhere in the mess of scribbled notes and half-finished sketches, there was an entry about a joke gone wrong.

One night, on a dare to see how long she could hold a handstand, Ellie found herself upside down—only she wasn’t just balancing. She was walking. On her ceiling.

The next morning, she convinced herself it was just some weird, half-awake dream. But when she tried it again—yeah, no. She wasn’t dreaming.

“Holy shit!” she blurted out, stumbling back to the ground.

“Language!” Joel’s voice rang out from the living room, blissfully unaware of the very sticky situation unfolding just a few feet away.

Ellie swallowed, staring at her feet. “Holy shit…” she whispered again, this time to herself.

For a while, she tried to ignore it. Between figuring out her sexuality and preparing for an upcoming science fair, she had enough on her plate. So when weird things happened—like catching something mid-fall way too fast or feeling vibrations through the walls—she brushed it off.

But the signs were getting harder to ignore. Especially when she asked Riley if she could hear that sound—

—and Riley just stared at her.

“Hear what?” Riley asked, setting up their volcano project.

“That—” Ellie waved her hand vaguely. “You seriously don’t hear it?”

Riley squinted. “Williams, I love you, but you have absolutely lost it.”

Ellie would’ve argued back, but the sound was coming from three tables down.

“Booger-eater James?” Riley snorted, nodding toward the kid hunched over a glass box of spiders. Not sure how that was science experiment. “He’s just standing there. With his creepy crawlers. I pray for him once we hit eleventh grade—he’s never getting a girlfriend.”

Panic set in—sudden and overwhelming—as her mind spiraled. Was this some weird side effect of the bite? Or was it something worse? She thought about her biological family, about the things she didn’t know, about the one thing she did worry about when it came to her health.

These were crazy person signs, right? Or worse—crazy person genes running through her blood. Torn between telling a school counselor or just locking herself in the bathroom to cry, Ellie excused herself from Riley and approached the table. But the closer she got, the louder the sound became. A crawling, chittering hum that made her stomach flip.

There was no way she was communicating with something that had more than two eyes and eight legs. An arachnid, for crying out loud.

Don’t get her wrong, Ellie loved science. But people who claimed this kind of stuff? They got laughed out of programs. Stripped of titles, accreditations. Blacklisted. Snow White talking to animals was one thing. A teenage girl talking to spiders? That was an entirely different planet.

But the more she thought about it… the more it made sense.

The heightened senses. The weird reflexes. And that bite mark—the one she was so sure would scar? It was completely gone the next morning when her bandage fell off in the shower.

What started as a sneaking suspicion was quickly turning into a daunting realization.

Ellie tried to ignore it. She really, really did.

For the next few weeks, she chalked it up to stress, exhaustion, anything that made more sense than the alternative. But the signs weren’t stopping. If anything, they were getting worse.

The way her body moved before she even had time to think. The way she could feel things that weren’t there—like the vibrations of footsteps before someone entered a room. The way her grip had changed—how she accidentally shattered a glass one night at dinner, how the basketball stuck to her hand a second too long in gym class.

She stopped journaling about it. She stopped mentioning it to Riley. But she couldn’t stop thinking about it. this was so , so much worse than the time she wasn’t allowed to leave the dinner table until she finished her brussels sprouts.

And that was how she found herself standing in front of her bedroom window one night, hoodie zipped up, black Converse laced tight.

Sneaking out wasn’t new to her. She’d done it before. Skating out to meet Jesse, tagging walls in alleyways. But this?

This wasn’t just sneaking out.

That night, she got her first real taste of herself without the skintight suit she now wears like a badge.

Little did she know at the time, how important that near miss would be.

“Glad nobody saw that.” An embarrassed Ellie giggled to herself, standing to her feet after stumbling for the hundredth time.

Parkour always seemed a little odd to her—she preferred her guitar or a late-night reading session, but those seemed to lay still on her bookshelf nowadays. I mean, who wanted to potentially hurt themselves running along buildings, jumping from concrete to concrete, brick to brick? Short answer: she did.

Long answer: the stairwell right behind her apartment building, leading to the city’s rooftops. Mariano’s, her favorite pizza joint that always closed way too early in her opinion, the old library that closed down only to be replaced a few doors down, and the laundromat. Dusting off her jeans, she’d do this for what felt like hours.

The back and forth would make normal civilians sick—feet swollen to hell. But for Ellie, after a fight with Joel about curfew or an unnecessarily long school day, as soon as the sun set, this was her heaven.

She wasn’t normal. She’d established that a long time ago. But it’s not like she could exactly tell people she could do these kinds of things. They’d look at her the way Riley did. A FYI, she was so right about James—after graduation, he still never got a girlfriend.

Ellie, on the other hand, had quite a few up until graduation.

A shared kiss with Riley, a faded stick-and-poke cat the girl in her art class gave her, and her unforgettable first time with the first girl she could truly say she loved: Dina.

To say “fair share” was a bit of an understatement. It was more about quality than quantity. Her building real connections, some still lingering around. Some took the high road, choosing to stay the bitter ex. But Ellie didn’t see it like that. She appreciated the good and the bad, even if she did have to get a real tattoo over that stick-and-poke cat.

But times like these, where she let her feet carry her across the city, were when she was allowed to forget about all that, leave it in the past where it belonged, and focus on the future. But even with her tassel turned, she always found herself in that alleyway, climbing up that same fire escape to get to the roof.

The city lights below flickered like distant stars. So many people, but none of them knew her name. Maybe that was for the best. In this city, the only person Ellie needed to be was herself.

The wind against her skin felt sharper tonight, like she could almost taste the city’s pulse. A distant car honked, but she didn’t hear it the same way anymore. It was all part of the rhythm, the energy that seemed to flow through her, the way the rooftops called her to them.

For now, the rooftops were hers. But she knew, deep down, that wouldn’t last forever. Heroes, villains—one day, someone would come looking for her. And maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. Maybe.

Freshly graduated, Ellie was hanging out with friends at her favorite pizza joint, the smell of pepperoni filling the air, and the sound of laughter ringing in her ears. It was one of those normal, relaxed nights. nothing out of the ordinary. Or at least, it didn’t seem that way at first.

But when a hooded figure paced back and forth in front of their table for the fourth time, Ellie couldn’t help but feel a cold chill run down her spine. Her green eyes snapped to the sound, hands slowly lowering the slice of pizza she’d been about to take a bite of.

“That young man stole my purse!” A woman’s voice broke through the hum of the restaurant, her trembling hands pointing toward the culprit.

Ellie’s green gaze snapped to the man now hurrying down the sidewalk, his steps quick, his movements too frantic. The adrenaline surged through her as she pushed her chair back and stood, catching a glimpse of her reflection in the glass door. She didn’t wear her mask yet, but the sensation of needing to act was unmistakable.

She couldn’t just let it go.

The man was fast, but he wasn’t fast enough. Ellie darted into the street, weaving between pedestrians like a blur, the sound of her footsteps muffled by the city’s noise. When she reached him, she tackled him with everything she had, the force knocking the purse out of his hand and sending him stumbling backward.

He didn’t stick around to fight back. In a flash, he bolted, disappearing into the shadows before Ellie could react.

She stood there, chest heaving as she clutched the purse in her hands. The woman, now catching up to her, approached with wide eyes.

“You got it back!” The woman gasped, her voice thick with relief.

Ellie smiled awkwardly, handing the purse back to her. “I… I guess I did.” Heart still racing.

Before she could say more, the woman pulled her into a tight hug. Ellie froze, not knowing what to do. She had no idea this small act of kindness would cause a strange warmth to spread through her chest.

“Thank you,” the woman whispered. “I don’t know what I would’ve done…”

Ellie gently pulled back, her heart still racing. She was pretty sure she was just a regular girl, with no superpowers or any big secret to her name. But in that moment, the feeling of doing the right thing—of helping someone in need—felt bigger than anything she’d ever experienced. Maybe she was crazy. But a little bit of crazy could do good.

And Ellie? She loved justice.

“Bullshit. No way you tackled him like that.” Abby’s voice rang out, interrupting Ellie’s storytelling.

“Alright, maybe I exaggerated a little bit, but I’m telling you, I kicked ass.” Ellie laughed, holding the door open for the tall blonde.

“Uh huh. Sure, Williams.” Abby huffed, walking past her into the bookstore. The familiar chime of the doorbell rang out above them, a small sound that felt like a second home.

Ellie inhaled deeply, taking in the comforting smell of ink and crisp pages being turned. She loved it here, more than the silly pictures of cats online, which, in the Williams world, meant a lot.

Abby, tall and always a step ahead in the teasing department, fell into step beside her. One of the few friends Ellie could confide in. Even if that came with endless ribbing. Ellie could admit that she’d told the “first save” story a million times, but it was one of the few she could tell without giving herself away—without breaking her promise. The promise she made to herself when she officially earned her title as ‘hero.’

But here, in the bookstore, she could nerd out all she wanted. No secrets to hide, no need to pretend. She could throw in the subtle bragging without fear of it getting back to the wrong people.

Ellie wasn’t a huge talker. She preferred humming to herself or getting lost in her own thoughts. As she scrolled past the comic book section, her fingers brushing against the glossy covers of vibrant colors and bubble letters, she was suddenly back in time. A place of nostalgia. Staying up way past her bedtime, reading comics under the covers with a trusty red flashlight.

When the small tv in the corner of the store caught her attention. A new report, crime in the city’s streets. detailing the latest wave of crime sweeping through the city. From petty purse snatching to stolen identities—and sometimes, even lives. It was all too familiar.

“This just in: Another robbery in the city’s streets. Police are still on the lookout for the suspect,” the newscaster announced.

She hated it, the fear in people’s eyes. The feeling of a warm blanket being ripped off all because a few people probably weren’t hugged enough as kids. If anybody knew a rough childhood, it was Ellie, and what she didn’t do was use that and take it out on the world. The last thing she expected years from this moment is trying to be understanding with the one who did.

If anyone knew a rough childhood, it was Ellie. But she didn’t use that as an excuse to lash out at the world.

In fact, the last thing she ever expected, years from this moment, was to try and understand the person behind the violence.

“Jesus, this city’s falling apart,” Abby muttered, her eyes still glued to the screen. “Where are the cops when you need them?”

It made her sick. The injustice. The feeling of helplessness.

“Sometimes, people just need to learn the world doesn’t owe them anything,”

Abby looked over at her, but Ellie kept her eyes on the chaos. The sirens were already wailing in the distance, but they’d never get there in time—not when the damage had already been done. And when the cops finally showed up. Just yellow police, tape and tears.

“Scary, huh?” Abby said, standing beside her, arms crossed. She shot a glance at the scene before turning back to Ellie. “Where are the cops when you need them?”

Ellie scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, they always show up too late. After the damage’s already done. It’s like they just don’t care enough to stop it before it gets out of hand. Makes you wonder if anyone’s actually doing anything about it.”

Abby sighed in agreement. “Someone should.”

Ellie’s mind wandered then, as it often did in moments like this. She’d seen it all too many times—the heroes who talked big but never seemed to get things done. But the ones who really caught her attention were the ones who operated in the shadows. The ones who didn’t care about fame or recognition.

Her thoughts drifted to The Phantom—a mysterious figure who’d been cleaning up the streets for years. Nobody knew their true identity, and that was the way they liked it. No flashy costumes, no headlines, just quiet, effective justice. They worked in the shadows, out of sight, but the results spoke for themselves.

“Maybe someone like that could show up,” Ellie murmured. “Someone who teaches people the lesson that their actions have consequences. Not just words, but real, lasting consequences.”

Abby raised an eyebrow, casting her a sideways glance. “Wait, are you seriously saying you’d want to be like them? A shadowy figure, handing out justice however you see fit?”

“Maybe. I mean, someone has to.”

And someone did. She did, she had to. things quickly escalated from saving purses to kittens out of trees you name it Ellie was there.

So what about the fabric hung deep in her closet. The one she mentions hundreds of times in her journals throughout the years.

Well, It wasn’t like she had a fancy suit. No, Ellie had to make do. Her costume came from a combination of chance and necessity. Absolutely one of those “it just happened” moments that ended up being so much more.

It started with a hand-me-down.

After one night where she barely managed to escape with a bruised arm and a scraped knee, Ellie found herself on the edge of the city. In a forgotten corner of a local alley, tucked behind an old, unused storage unit, Ellie found a discarded suit. It was a mix of gray, black, and green fabric—more rugged than sleek, a little worn out, but something about it screamed potential. Her hand reached out for it, like she could feel the joy she’d bring with it on her skin.

fit like a second skin. It didn’t stand out too much, which was good; Ellie didn’t want to draw attention, not yet. The colors worked too—gray for blending in, black for stealth, and green because… well, why not? It matched her eyes.

One afternoon, Ellie had found herself standing outside a local store, looking out over the city, when a voice caught her attention. It was a soft voice, one that belonged to a little girl.

“How’d you get up there? You move like a spider.”

Ellie smiled beneath her mask, thinking about the first time she made the jump to scale a building. She was very clumsy, but she’d learned quickly. It was funny, she hadn’t really thought much about it until now. A spider… That’s what had started this whole thing.

The bite she thought would kill her.

“What’s your name, hero?” the little girl asked, her wide eyes.

Ellie hesitated. A name?… A spider? This was a loaded question. But That’s what they called her, wasn’t it? She was just some kid trying to do right by the world.

“Spider… uh… girl… woman!” She blurted out, almost embarrassed. Hoping it sounded cool, so in the moment, she went with it.

“Spider Woman. Yeah, that’s it.”

She didn’t mind the title. It was fitting, simple.

Spider-woman. Silly, right? It sounded like something out of the DC Comics stacked in her room. And she loved it.

The name was sung like gospel on the news, printed in bold ink for those who still bothered with newspapers.

On one channel, a reporter stood in front of a cityscape, microphone in hand.

“The masked vigilante, called ‘Spider-Woman’ by the public, continues to stir-up debate. Some call her a hero, while others question if she’s just another masked threat. We hit the streets of Seattle to hear what the people really have to say.”

Cop, off duty: “Look, I don’t make the rules, but I do enforce them. Vigilante or not, she’s got a record, and that means trouble.”

Masked kid in a homemade costume: “She’s like, a ninja or something! I think she’s cool!”

Teen girl with dyed hair: “She’s kind of badass, not gonna lie.” She shrugged.

younger woman with a toddler: “Are you kidding? She’s the only one out here actually doing something! You ever had a gun in your face? ‘Cause I have. If she’s around, I know I’m making it home.”

The tv Cuts back to the news anchor at the desk, straightening their papers.

“You heard it here folks! Love her or hate her, one thing’s for sure. she’s out there. And she’s just getting started.” The news reporter finished.

But every hero had their villain.

And Ellie? She was crushing on hers.

With Brown hair tied back, wheels skimming smoothly across the pavement. No suit today, just a hoodie and jeans, her usual off-duty attire. As a creature of habit, she skated her way to the bookstore like clockwork, the same route.

Had she finished the last two comics she bought? Absolutely. A little faster than intended. But a five-minute ride was nothing for a girl who spent most of her nights swinging across the city, trying to do right by the world. In her own way.

The streets of downtown Seattle buzzed with life, familiar shop signs blurring past her periphery—the record store with the neon “Vinyl Lives” sign, the café that always smelled like burnt coffee, and the corner thrift shop with racks of clothes spilling onto the sidewalk.

Then—“Shit—!”

Ellie barely had time to swerve, nearly colliding with someone standing dead center in her path.

“Sorry!” she called over her shoulder, skidding to a halt a few feet away.

The person barely reacted. Headphones on, phone in hand, just a slight jerk of the shoulder to let her pass. like they’d done it a thousand times.

Ellie shot them one last glance, catching just a flicker of their face. The shape of their eyes, the calm in their posture despite the near collision. No sense of surprise, Weird. Most people flinched.

Shaking it off, she kicked forward again, hitting the sidewalk with a small exhale. Board tucked under her arm, she pulled open the door to the bookstore, the familiar jingle of the bell bringing an easy grin to her face.

“Like clockwork. You are so predictable, Williams,” Josh, the store clerk, greeted from behind the counter.

“What can I say?” Ellie shrugged, stepping inside. “When you’re a comic book connoisseur—”

“—It becomes a lifestyle,” Josh finished, smirking. “Indeed you are.”

Ellie chuckled, already making her way toward the shelves, completely unaware that the person she nearly crashed into was about to become a permanent part of her life.

She just didn’t know it yet. And neither did you.

Just few moments before …

“What an idiot,” a deep voice muttered, entering the back alley. Away from prying eyes.

You rolled your eyes, arms crossed as you leaned against the brick wall beside him. “She was skating. God, do you ever lighten—”

His hand landed on your shoulder, fingers pressing just enough to remind you. Not a threat. Not yet.

Your mouth shut. Swallowing your retort.

He exhaled through his nose, slow and measured. Thinking. Shit. Your gut told you to argue, to roll your shoulders back and step away. But you didn’t.

She wasn’t. You knew that. But your world didn’t allow second guesses.

Unlike Ellie, there were no scraped knees followed by fatherly reassurances. No kissing boo-boos, no gentle words. Hell, in your world, mistakes didn’t just hurt. They burned.

And the man towering over you now, eyes sharp as a blade’s, wasn’t the type to let things slide. The city dubbed him Red Hand, a name spoken in hushed whispers.

But you just settled for—

“Will you relax, old man? I get it.” You scoffed, swatting his hand away.

Old man. Boss. Everything but Dad. He didn’t deserve that title. Maybe once, when you were too young to know better. But now? Now, you couldn’t remember the last time you saw anything close to affection in his eyes. Sure, you’d hear a gruff, “You did good, kid,” now and then—but only after running his errands. Only when you were useful.

That’s how this started. You don’t grow a hatred for the world overnight. It’s molded into you when you’re most likely to sponge it all up. Seeing people for what they really are, learning early that it’s survival, not love.

Your real parents? Nothing but a shadow of the past. A blanket. A half-hearted note. A promise that you’d be “taken care of.” Not loved. Not held. Just… handled.

And he did. In his way. He didn’t mark your growth on a doorframe. He didn’t pack lunches with little notes that said, “Have a great day, love you.”

No, that was too soft. The Red Hand was feared. With just a snap of his fingers, his problems were taken care of—no questions asked.

At first, you weren’t sure who they were—the ones who carried out his orders, the ones who came and went like shadows. Or why he always denied your late-night tea parties with Mr. Bear.

One eye missing. Fur worn and faded from too many hugs. The first toy he’d ever bought you. Well, stolen. But it was a gift nonetheless.

You used to crack your bedroom door open at night, small fingers barely making a sound as you peeked through the gap. Trying to make out the hushed conversations happening just a few feet away.

Never catching much. But it was whispered for a reason. And even as a kid, you knew better than to ask.

Then came second grade. You walked through the door with puffy eyes and a fresh bruise on your cheek. He barely looked up from his paper as he slid an ice pack across the table.

“And did you hit them back?”

Your small legs dangled off the couch as you shook your head. “No…”

The paper rustled as he set it down, finally looking at you. “C’mere, kid. Let me show you something.”

And he did. With careful, practiced movements, he taught you where to aim. How to make it count. Jabs, punches.

“Those little shits won’t bug you too much after this.”

You learned quickly. Not just how to hit, but when. Where. How to read a room. How to never show weakness.

Because in his world? Weakness was a death sentence.

So no, there were no bedtime stories. No reassurances whispered into your hair. Just lessons. And you learned them all. After all, it paid to be useful. Even if that meant the occasional run to the principal’s office

The city doesn’t care. People don’t care. They’re too busy fighting to stay on top. So why bother trying to be something else? Why bother saving anyone when they’ll just let you down? He’d shown you what the world truly was. A place where you had to take what you wanted.

A place where you had to survive, no matter the cost.

You’d stopped asking questions a long time ago. Why did they leave? Why did he allow you to stay? What was that gnawing feeling deep in your gut? You’d stopped wondering about what could be, what should be. This was it. This was all there was.

And as Ellie’s world spun with hope, with the promise of doing right, yours had long since given up. Because in your world, saving lives wasn’t enough. The world didn’t reward you for being a hero. No. It rewarded you for knowing when to stop asking, when to take what you were given.

Dressed in black, learning what was most important: to keep moving.

To be continued …..

Line dividers | 2 | 3

Ellie m.list

Taglist @0h-basic

[highway-143]

omg this looks fun! def a good way for ppl to get to know me so imma put a link in my blig bio when im done lol

i LOVE watching them

no lol

my best friend

dave matthews band (dont judge it was like 3 years ago ToT)

probablyyy.... a sloth? cuz thats literally be bro

??? someone help wtf is that

a bluey shirt XD dont judge its my pajamas and its comfy

damn everything? probably kpop in general and fear. usually fear.

my converseeee

food. or maybe albums. probably ice cream or chocolate tho

potential, creative, and annoying

omg so one time my little sister and i were messing with our next door neighbors and were throwing rocks into their yard from over our fence while they were swimming (trust, they were a couple of 10 yo boys) and we kept doing it and we scared the shit out of them and then one stole the others pants and locked him outside XD

ive never drank lolol.

things ive freehand crocheted! just bc i made it up in my head lol (yes, i crochet)

no

smut? lol ig thats it

steal food that im normally not allowed to eat? (from the fridge lol)

ceaser salad. makes me want to puke i swear

keefe from kotlc. because who doesnt need a keefe in their lives?

probably a makeup artist/stylist. such a cool job

nothing. i frequently want to quit life

fraktsiya- mark

"theyre getting away from us!" "theyre not even walking!"

ENGENE BONG NECKLACEEE BABY (go check out private paradise co. its literally my fav shop ever kabwbs)

kpop or gravity falls lore XD

kpop again XD

pineapple (sometimes) belongs on pizza (EMPHASIS ON THE SOMETIMES)

im assuming you mean people ship so im gonna say minsung (lee know x han of stray kids) BECAUSE THEY ARE ICONIC or probably me x nishimura riki XDDD

a regular ear peircing. i want a second but imma be disowned so yay for me!

worst: i talk too much best: i talk too much

Deep/Fun Questions to Ask!

Do you like watching sunsets?

Have you ever started a rumor?

What makes you laugh hard?

What's the last concert you went to?

If you believed in it, what would you be reincarnated to?

What's your current vocal stim?

What shirt are you wearing?

Who or what is on your mind?

What are your favorite pair of shoes?

What would easily win you over if someone gave you it?

What three words describe you?

What's a funny memory you have?

Do you have any drunk stories?

What's one thing you own that you're sure no one else has?

Do you have any superstitions?

What is your guilty pleasure?

What weird thing do you do when you're alone?

What is the worst food you've ever had?

What fictional character would you bring to life if you could?

If you could join a career immediately, what would it be?

What keeps you going during the day?

Current song on repeat?

Funniest inside joke?

What's your favorite piece of jewelry you own?

Favorite niche topic?

What fandom are you currently in?

Most controversial take?

Favorite ship and why?

Do you have any piercings or tattoos, and what are they?

What is your worst & best quality?

[goreandbunnies]

❝ 𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚛!𝚂𝚞𝚔𝚞𝚗𝚊 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜 ➺

Inspired by @sweetlandspos ‘s fanart ♡

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

You see him again on campus a week later as you’re eating lunch in the park, nose in a book, not noticing that he spotted you from a mile away and has been watching you for a moment until he grew too impatient to wait any longer. 

Dealer!Sukuna who sits across from you on the picnic table, wearing shades and grinning like he just won the lottery. He leans in and peeks at the cover of the book you’re reading, snickering when he sees the spicy themed cover. 

“I knew you were a fun one under that shy attitude,” he teases before picking up a fry from your lunch and munching on it, his pink hair dancing in the warm breeze as you look up at him. 

“What do you want?” You ask, trying to sound resigned and confident but you almost choke on the words. 

You’ve been thinking about him. Of course you have. The campus’ bad boy offered you to spend a night with him and you just ran away like a scared cat. You were torn between shame and regret but also still deeply turned on by the memory of that night. The missed opportunity drove you mad, until now. 

Dealer!Sukuna kept his promise to himself and started chasing after you. 

“Do you want the polite version or the truth?” He asks back, grinning before placing a cigarette between his teeth. He leans back, throwing his shades on the table as his knee gently bumps into yours under there, sending electric shockwaves between your legs.

“Both,” you reply shyly, smiling a little. No harm in chatting with him and teasing back, right? 

“Well first I’d like us to be friends, baby,” he shrugs, drawing attention to the tattoos on his massive arms, his black tank top clinging to his upper body and not doing a good job at concealing how huge he was. He nods at you and leans over, you mimic him, like two friends sharing a secret. “Then I’d have you in my bed, making sure I’d ruin you for other men in the future. Fictional or real,” he adds mockingly, glancing at your book. 

Your breath is hitched, you feel too hot in your own skin and his presence crushes you in the best way. He’s intoxicating, much like the drugs he likes to consume. You wish you could be free to give in, to want him back openly, maybe even make him work for it a little since he wants it - you - so bad. But your studies are too important, you’re too focused on your goal to ruin your chances because of a frat boy. No matter how tempting. 

“I- I’m not interested, sorry,” you tell him, frustration and regret gnawing at your gut. 

Dealer!Sukuna who sees right through your lies. He knows the effect he already has on you. 

“One night, that’s all I’m asking for,” he offers, finishing his cigarette and crushing the butt on the wooden table. “If you don’t want to see me again after that, I’ll let you go,” he lies. But you believe him and this time, it’s too tempting to refuse. Again. 

Besides, one night of fun can’t be that harmless. Most students get trashed weekly and yet they still graduate. One night to unwind with the hottest guy on campus wouldn’t put your plans in danger. It’s been forever since you’ve had some adult kind of fun, sticking to smutty books to make sure not to get attached or too distracted by a real man. 

“What do you say, Princess?” He insists, one of his long legs sliding between your pressed thighs, prying them open. You let him. 

He doesn’t look like the type of guy who gets attached anyways. You tell yourself that you can spend that one night with him then just lie, tell him it wasn’t that good and get back to your bland, boring life. You already know any sex with him would be life changing. It scares you a little. He scares you even more. 

“Okay,” you eventually give up, heart pounding in your chest. 

Dealer!Sukuna whose eyes light up with malice and excitement the second that small word comes out of your mouth. He’s not the type to work for things, he’s used to people coming to him and giving everything he wants on a silver platter. 

This is a first for him. Just like it’s a first for you too. You’ve always made sure to keep away from trouble and he always stuck to the wilder girls out of habit. None of them had sparked a similar interest in him. 

His hand reaches out and cups your chin gently. His hand smells like the cigarette he just smoked and this alone ignites something in your lower belly. 

“Clear your schedule for me tonight then,” he demands, impatient. You shake your head. 

“Not tonight,” you feel stupid for saying no yet again. But you need more than an afternoon to prepare yourself for a whole night with him. 

Dealer!Sukuna who lets go of your face, huffing as he collects his shades on the table and snatches a pencil from your stuff. He scribbles his phone number on the margin in the book you’ve stopped reading. 

“Up to you now, princess,” he slides the book back to you before getting up, his playfulness gone as he leaves you there, alone. 

Your face falls as you glance at the phone number, feeling like you’ve just lost your opportunity to step out of your comfort zone. The one chance to experience more. Defeated, you collect your belongings and head to your next class. 

The entire lecture, your mind is on the number written in that book, wondering whether or not you should text him and apologize - what for, being a coward? Or simply tell him that you can’t see him tonight because you’re too nervous. You end up doing nothing, going along with your day. 

You’re walking to your last class when a strong hand snatches you from the corridor into a fire exit. Before you can scream, that same hand covers your mouth as you’re being pinned against a wall. Pink hair and crimson eyes come into view and you suddenly become acutely aware of the proximity between your body and his. 

Dealer!Sukuna who is just tired of waiting for a taste of his new favourite drug.

♡ Taglist : @gojoscumslut @bohoooitsme @call-memissbrightside @yuujispinkhair @seellove @s3ns4ti0n4l ♡

Dividers by @cafekitsune and @firefly-graphics

Copyright © goreandbunnies 2024-2025, all rights reserved, do not repost, use or plagiarize

[naebaetwsog]

「・RIIZE as your boyfriend°×

genre.Fluff

warning.Ot7(ig that’s a warning??)

pairing.Bf!Rii7e x fem!reader

note.If I say that I was crying writing this, and I was also crying while choosing the cover photo, I really miss our 03liners. Anyways, this is my fist riize fic, reminder that you can request other groups too!!

Shotaro

Your #1 fan, personal hype man, and ultimate softie. You are his literal baby—no exceptions. He spoils you endlessly, never showing up empty-handed on dates, always surprising you with little gifts. If you’re apart, he demands FaceTime calls at night, whining, “I can’t sleep without your presence…” Your personal space? Doesn’t exist. His clothes are now yours, and he loves seeing you in them. Dancing everywhere, even in the grocery store? Mandatory. You don’t know how? He doesn’t care—he’s twirling you around anyway. He showers you with compliments 24/7, making sure you never forget how much he loves you.

Eunseok

Cool and composed? Only with others. With you, he’s a total softie. But make no mistake—he’s crazy overprotective. If someone so much as glances at you the wrong way, he’s already cursing their ancestors. He spoils you without hesitation; you don’t even need to ask—just look at something, and it’s yours. You are not safe from his dad jokes, though. You could be in the middle of cuddling, and he’ll drop the corniest joke, leaving you groaning while he laughs at his own humor. He loves making you mad just because he thinks you’re adorable when you pout.

Sungchan

Simp? Understatement. You say sit, he sits. You say jump, he jumps. Honestly, he’s barking for you. Just thinking about you puts him in heart-eyes mode. Everyone knows how much he loves you—he makes sure of it. Someone stares at you for too long? He’s ready to throw hands. His personal space? Doesn’t exist when it comes to you. He even holds your hand when you go to the bathroom “What if you get kidnapped?!”. One week into the relationship, he’s already talking about marriage. But don’t be fooled—he will tease you, especially about your height, and be the most annoying boyfriend ever in the best way possible.

Wonbin

Mysterious? Only to strangers. With you? He’s a full-on clingy baby. If he’s not glued to you in some way, he’s simply not functioning. He spoils you to no end, handing you his credit card before you even ask. His clothes are automatically yours, and your mood? His mood. If you’re upset, he feels it. He’s confident, but still gets jealous—even though he’s literally one of the most handsome men alive. He tries to play it cool, but the moment someone gets a little too friendly, he’s suddenly extra affectionate, pulling you closer and reminding everyone that you’re his.

Seunghan

Simp Pt. 3. He’s obsessed with you in the most wholesome way. Personal space? What’s that? You’re never alone—if you turn around, he’s right there. Matching outfits every day, not negotiable. He only has eyes for you; no one else even exists in his world. He expresses his love in a million small ways, from adjusting your scarf in the cold to remembering your favorite snacks. If you’re feeling down, he drops everything to comfort you, whispering how much he loves you and will always be by your side.

Sohee

He tries to act all cool and manly, but let’s be real—he’s a total softie when it comes to you. He’s not big on physical affection, but he needs some part of him touching you at all times—whether it’s a pinky linked with yours or his foot brushing against yours under the table. Instead of physical touch, he expresses love through acts of service and words of affirmation. Good morning and good night texts are a daily routine. He surprises even himself by being the first one to say, “I love you.”

Anton

The biggest simp of them all. His brain is permanently on “reader brainrot” mode. If he’s not thinking about you, he’s making memes about you. You have so many inside jokes that one look from him can make you both burst out laughing. He always gives you his oversized hoodies because you look ridiculously tiny in them, and he lives for it. Spoils you way too much, especially if you’re into collecting cute things (“One more Sunny Angel won’t hurt…”). The way he adores you is unreal—he just wants to make you the happiest person alive.

[callme-holly]

hi! i hope you are doing well! <3

can i plz get a dallas winston fic where dallas is being really sweet (like teeth rotting sweet) and he takes her out shopping and such and the day ends with them cuddling in bed <3

𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 [𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

a/n: I LOVE THIS STOP IT

The day has been nothing short of wonderful, a good end to the week, a good way to wind down and forget about everything for a few hours. You’d never expected Dallas to agree to the idea, not in a million years, but when he’d agreed to take you shopping, to carry your bags despite his grumbling, something inside of you had melted. He'd tried to pretend like he hated the day, that every single second of his was a drag and nothing short of torture, but you hadn't missed the occasional smile he let slip, the gentle look in his eyes as he watched you throw garments of clothing into the basket, practically skipping to the changing rooms. He'd enjoyed himself; you know that much.

And now he was reclined back against your headboard, watching with an amused smile as you showed him every single thing you'd bought, giving him a fashion show even though he'd been there for every single purchase. He didn't argue, didn't ignore you or turn you away, just let you do your thing.

"What do you think?" you asked, turning to face him suddenly, arms outstretched. His eyes roamed over your figure, taking in the way your new dress hugged your curves, the colour complementing you perfectly; you looked like something straight out of a magazine, and he loved it.

"Give us a spin, angel..." he drawled, motioning for you to turn; you did so, the skirt swirling around you in a way that had his heart stuttering and his breath hitching. He let out a groan, running a hand through his hair, nodding in appreciation as you slowed to a stop, grinning despite yourself.

"Is that a yes?" 

"Of course it is, darling." 

You stepped towards him, letting his hands take purchase on your hips, his thumb rough against the delicate lace as he traced idly patterns against it. The look in his eyes was something akin to the way a starved man would eye a meal, desperate for more.

Your fingers card through his hair, gripping at the strands in a teasing manner that you knew all too well would rile him up, and judging from the way his expression darkened, his jaw tensing, you were right.

 He pulled you close against his body, kissing you hungrily in a bid to get your attention, tongue flicking across your bottom lip, demanding entrance. Your arms snaked around his neck, letting yourself fall into his lap, the fabric of your dress flowing out like waves around the two of you.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, simply trading heated, passionate kisses, both of you too wrapped up in one another to care about anything else. It wasn't until you were forced back to breathe that a small laugh escaped you; you let your head fall to the crook of his neck, loving the way his scent, all leather and smoke, seemed to wrap around you. 

"What's so funny?" He huffed, resting his chin atop your head, leaning back and pulling you with him so that you were settled comfortably on his chest. 

You shook your head, looking up at him through your lashes, cheeks tinted pink, lips swollen and red. “Just you…” You mumbled, cupping his jaw. “You’re so desperate…” 

“Desperate?” He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Please, doll. Any man would be desperate if they were in my position.” 

Butterflies erupted in your stomach, fluttering wildly and causing your heart to race. Something about the way he said it, the way his voice was gruff and a few octaves lower than usual, made you feel almost giddy with want. 

“Don’t tease, Dal.” You sighed happily, nuzzling into his neck like a cat begging for attention. 

Dallas huffed a laugh, the sound rumbling in his chest and you let out a quiet whine in response, shifting in his lap to get more comfortable.  The only sounds you could hear for a while were his heartbeat and the soft, pleasant rumble of his voice, which you couldn’t seem to bring yourself to pull away from just yet, feeling too relaxed and comforted to move. 

"This colour looks so good on you, you know that?" He pulls away, brushing a strand of hair back from your face, his brows raised. "If this is how shopping with you ended, I might take you up on the offer more often..." 

He laughed when you swatted at his chest, capturing your hand in his larger, rougher one, his scarred fingers lacing with yours. The cool metal from his rings pressed into your skin, making goosebumps prickle along your arms. 

"You better watch yourself, lover boy." You warned him, but he knew just what he was doing, just how easily he could make you melt without even trying.

"I'm ain’t doin’ wrong, baby. Just admiring my girl."  He grinned, bringing your hand to his mouth. He placed a feather-light kiss along your knuckles before releasing your hand. He pressed his forehead against yours, and you braced yourself for another cocky, playful comment. However, you paused when you noticed the gentle look in his eye, the way his whole expression softened.

"You look perfect. Seriously." 

He kissed you gently, slow and deliberate, and you let him because you weren't quite sure how to respond to something like that. So you just  sat, allowing yourself to sink deeper into this warmth, sinking further into his lap, his chest rising and falling beneath you. You let your fingers trace patterns into his shoulders as he peppered your face with kisses, humming contentedly against your lips, and for the first time Dallas Winston was quiet, silenced by the pure perfection of the girl in his lap. 

[coffeeman777]

Please don't be offended, @topaz-and-turquoise, but I think this is a little bit off the mark.

The Scriptures do in fact teach that evidence of genuine salvation is repentance and good works. Salvation is complete in Christ Jesus, and we are saved completely by grace through faith. Our works don't at all contribute to salvation. But, as Paul points out in Romans, this doesn't mean that Christians can continue in sin without consequence. Paul, John, Peter, James, and Jude all contribute to the idea that individuals who are genuinely saved, who have God's Holy Spirit in them, will live differently from those who don't. The proof that a person's faith is real is in the change of behavior. The Holy Spirit never enters a person and permits them to continue living just as they did before they were saved.

Real Christians can and do sin. We all struggle with it, and will continue to struggle with it until Jesus returns or calls us home. The key word there is "struggle." We acknowledge that the sin is evil, and we take real, grace-enabled steps to put it out of our lives. Indeed, Paul writes that the power of sin is broken over us, and that it is not only possible to throw off sin and pursue genuine holiness, but that this is what God calls us to do. Genuine Christians who love the Lord will seek to worship Him with their lives by their obedience to His commands. John writes that loving God means obeying Him.

So, yes, it's true that we aren't saved at all by works, and it's true that Christians don't become sinlessly perfect on this side of eternity, but it's equally true that genuine Christians will love God and sincerely seek to obey Him out of that love and a desire to worship Him, and that this attitude of the heart proves salvation. As John writes,

"My little children, I am telling you this so that you will stay away from sin. But if you sin, there is someone to plead for you before the Father. His name is Jesus Christ, the one who is all that is good and who pleases God completely. 2 He is the one who took God’s wrath against our sins upon Himself and brought us into fellowship with God; and He is the forgiveness for our sins, and not only ours but all the world’s.

"3 And how can we be sure that we belong to Him? By looking within ourselves: are we really trying to do what He wants us to?

"4 Someone may say, “I am a Christian; I am on my way to heaven; I belong to Christ.” But if he doesn’t do what Christ tells him to, he is a liar. 5 But those who do what Christ tells them to will learn to love God more and more. That is the way to know whether or not you are a Christian. 6 Anyone who says he is a Christian should live as Christ did...

"See how very much our heavenly Father loves us, for He allows us to be called His children—think of it—and we really are! But since most people don’t know God, naturally they don’t understand that we are His children. 2 Yes, dear friends, we are already God’s children, right now, and we can’t even imagine what it is going to be like later on. But we do know this, that when He comes we will be like Him, as a result of seeing Him as He really is. 3 And everyone who really believes this will try to stay pure because Christ is pure.

"4 But those who keep on sinning are against God, for every sin is done against the will of God. 5 And you know that He became a man so that He could take away our sins, and that there is no sin in Him, no missing of God’s will at any time in any way. 6 So if we stay close to Him, obedient to Him, we won’t be sinning either; but as for those who keep on sinning, they should realize this: They sin because they have never really known Him or become His.

"7 Oh, dear children, don’t let anyone deceive you about this: if you are constantly doing what is good, it is because you are good, even as He is. 8 But if you keep on sinning, it shows that you belong to Satan, who since he first began to sin has kept steadily at it. But the Son of God came to destroy these works of the devil. 9 The person who has been born into God’s family does not make a practice of sinning because now God’s life is in him; so he can’t keep on sinning, for this new life has been born into him and controls him—he has been born again." (1 John 2:1-6, 3:1-9)

[pineconepie]

bratty reader and the dads? I can already imagine Vincent feeding into it as a joke and then being annoyed when it bites him in the ass lol

I got a few similar asks to this one haha. Oh, and you're 100% correct about Vincent LOL

.

Octavian would find it amusing and cute, but not enough to indulge your behaviors, at least not most of the time. You should expect the "calm dad voice" laced with poison, like "I'm sorry?" "Are you sure you wanted to say that?" etc. etc.

He'd give you many chances before he either tells you to go to your room or sit in the corner to think about what you've done.

Worst case scenario, he'll make you write a formal letter of apology.

.

Vincent thinks its cute and will humor it at first, even egging you on by teasing you, but it does wear thin after a certain point and he'll give you a warning.

If you still continue acting out, he'll drag you to your room and make you stay there for an hour or so to think about what you did.

Worst case scenario he'll wash your mouth out with soap and ask for an apology after. Then he'd be cooing and babying you once again, especially if you're crying.

.

Indigo is confused. Merfolk don't typically have such attitudes, but even more strange to him, he doesn't know how to fix it.

"Do you hate Papa now?? What did I do wrong??" "Don't look at me like that, please... you're breaking my heart, little one, just tell me what I did wrong..."

He'd start crying if it continues, but he'd try to appease you by bringing you extra gifts and cuddles, even if you push him away. He hates the idea of punishing you, so at most he'll just drag you to the nest for snuggles, thinking its the only way to make you calm down. Personal space is not his strong suit.

.

Magnus won't tolerate any sort of disobedience from his hatchling. You will behave, that is simply the law. He will scold you in a very stern voice, and if that doesn't work, worse case scenario is he'll pick you up by the hem of your shirt and place you somewhere scary, like a high branch or close to a wolves den.

He'd be watching to make sure you don't actually get hurt, but he hopes the fear will make you realize you need him because he is your father.

What do you mean this is a bad parenting tactic?? All dragonkind used it on their little ones!

.

Seradiel adores a bratty reader <3 he wants you to act up, because he wants you to act like the baby he remembers and throw tantrums. That means you've fully embraced him as your parent, right??

And obviously throwing a tantrum means you need his guidance.

He would do a good job hiding the adoration he feels from you acting bratty, and he'll scold you accordingly, putting you in time out or taking away your electronics so you have to spend more time with Papa.

[unserenedreaming]

Yellowjackets rankings

SPOILERS FOR EPISODE FOUR

I have decided to update my rankings weekly, and here they are for week four:

WILDERNESS

I would die for them

Jackie: I am still Jackie's number one soldier. She haunts the narrative across both eras and I love that for her. Every time she's on screen my life expectancy increases five years, my skin clears, and nature begins to heal.

Akilah: The way she holds onto her bunny for comfort during the trial scene made my heart ache. She's just a soft girl stuck in a terrible, awful situation. Still praying that she makes it back to civilization.

Coach Ben: He lives to see at least one more episode, thank fuck. My guy is a self-admitted coward, but I know he didn't set that fire and is either being framed purposefully or unintentionally (see below)

Travis: Continues to be traumatized by the Wilderness & Lottie but he's managing to hold onto his sanity...mostly

Misty: It's a shame Misty never went into law (though she is certifiable so I understand why) because DAMN she had almost everyone convinced, even Tai, of Coach's innocence.

Nat: I felt like this was the first time we actually saw genuine emotion from Nat this season, which reminded me of just how talented sophie thatcher is

I care about them but not as much as the others:

Tai, Van, Mari, Lottie, the others

IDGAF:

Shauna: I get it. She's got pent up issues from Coach being a coward when she gave birth. Maybe she blames him for her baby dying, an understandable anger but it's directed at the wrong person, since it wasn't anyone's fault. I think she knows that he didn't set the fire or at least has her doubts, but she needs someone to blame since it's very likely that it was set by accident (I'm looking at you, Van's vision from ep 3). But bullying everyone into agreeing with you doesn't make you a good leader, it makes you a tyrant.

Melissa: little piece of shit instigator. Girl you gotta understand Shauna is just using you for validation.

PRESENT DAY

I would die for them:

Jeff: Jeff the rizzler, Jeff the charmer. I love this man. He tries (and fails) to have enough empathy for the two of them, honestly believing that he needs to do good things because of karma. If he dies this season I'm gonna throw up

Shauna: I've said it before and I'll say it again: I would die for Melanie Lynskey. Her portrayal of Shauna is so real and wonderful and messy and toxic and hilarious. I love her.

Misty Watching her fantasize about stabbing Shauna before telling herself it wasn't a good place for herself to be, and then stealing that old lady's puzzle pieces was so wonderful. I hope she never changes

Lottie: IT'S GOTTA BE A FAKEOUT RIGHT?? THEY WOULDN'T DO THAT TO YOU RIGHT? She's gotta come back, she's so weird and a little scary but so so enchanting

Tai: Crazy gay disaster with a good memory for romance

Van: Dying gay disaster with shaking hands I'm worried about

I care about them but not as much as the others:

Walter, Callie, Randy (I forgot about him, but he was fun this episode!)

IDGAF

everyone else

Anyways if you made it this far thanks again for reading my rambling. If you agree, congrats. If you don't, also congrats.

[thefrenchydude]

ML chapter 3 - THE PEACH’S RETURN

(Thanks to erosnocturne for this chapter)

Macaque has to wait until Wukong is between visitors before he slinks into the grand room, slipping out of a shadow to walk alongside the king once he leaves his throne.

“You and I both know who that was.”

They have yet to actually speak about it, and of course Macaque is the one to broach the subject.

Of course, it isn’t like they really need to talk about it. Not for clarification reasons. As Macaque said, they both know very well who that was. Who it is. There’s no way not to. What they felt… it was just something that made them know. There’s no possible way to describe that recognition. The way they felt tugged towards him, knowing deep down how intrinsically tied together their fates were.

What a fortune, to be immortal, and have your lover reborn after the tragedy of losing them, so that you may never truly know a day where you do not find each other again.

It can only be for one reason, can’t it?

“Obviously,” the Monkey King replies, his tone flippant.

Wukong does not deny his friend’s claims, nor does he shy away from the topic. Not when he knows him so deeply.

Not when he knows what this conversation is leading into.

It’s easier for both of them this way, anyway. Especially when both feel so impatient to have their hands on their lover again, regardless of their new form.

It’ll be more than pleasant to experience the first time exploring [Name]’s body all over again.

“Then you know I have a way to lead him here?”

As expected of a demon, Macaque worked fast. Especially when he has something he wants and a goal in mind.

“Perfect. We can take him when he arrives.”

… Of course, Wukong is being far too hasty again. It is as though he learned nothing from last time.

The thought is enough to twist Macaque’s expression into a discontent frown.

“... No. We can not just take him this time. Do you remember how well that went for us?”

“Good?”

How a man can be so wise and yet so incredibly daft at the same time will always astonish the dark-furred simian. Really, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven can not be so genuinely oblivious, can he? The monkey has to be playing him for a fool.

With great (aggravated) patience, Macaque responds, his tail curling behind him. “No. It was not ‘good’. Quite the opposite, in fact.” Maybe he isn’t all that patient about it, seeing as how he is so quick to adopt a more sardonic tone. “Peaches did not trust us for a very long time. And even when they did, they were haunted by what happened. Do you know how many nights I had to hold them together on my own?”

It would be a lie, however, to say, to some extent, Macaque did not enjoy it. The love of his life venting to him, relying on him, trusting him with their weakest moments. It is something he wants to experience again and again. To hold them in his arms and listen to them. To comfort them.

But that does not mean he wants to inflict that pain upon them. Even with how much he adores taking care of them in his own way, it would not do to needlessly traumatize them when such a thing can be avoided. There is no reason they have to suffer in this life the same way they had in the previous.

He needs [Name]. Macaque knows that Wukong needs him, too. So he can understand the impatience.

He also understands that he can not turn a blind eye to Wukong’s behaviors, if it means he can prevent things from playing out exactly as they had before.

The Monkey King is silent, a frown matching Macaque’s, brows drawn together in thought. Which, at the very least, means that he is genuinely listening to his darker companion’s words and rolling them over in his mind, contemplating.

Taking this as a good sign, Macaque continues. “We were too careless last time.” Which really meant he thought Wukong had been too careless. But throwing around blame would be counterproductive to his desires right now. He doesn’t need pushback from his friend on this. “We have to be more thoughtful about our approach this time. We shouldn’t risk his peace of mind.”

Wukong sighs, agreeing with his friend’s assessment of the situation. He knows his ways have caused much strife with [Name] in lives past. Over and over and over again.

He wants to change, for them, if for nothing else. Even if it means…. Suffering the idea of that insufferable fool touching the man Wukong knows is truly his. That miserable, weak little human who will not be able to protect him as well as Wukong can.

“... Fine. But you better know what you’re doing.” The words come out more light-hearted than his previous behavior, and Macaque laughs, relaxing as they carry on with their walk.

“When don’t I?”

***

Mr. [Name] [Surname]

諸侯

Auroria Centre, ███████ █████

May this letter find you in good health. Your presence has been requested for the sake of discussing this city’s future in more detail. I enjoyed our previous conversation a great deal. Your insight will be helpful. Perhaps, with your help, we may find ways to make protecting this home of ours more simple.

As you may know, it is exceedingly useful to have someone on the inside. While we are more than capable of protecting you from threats on the outside, it is difficult to know what is going on within the city’s walls when we have no time to frequent it on our own. Please think of anything you have noticed for our meeting. I implore you to hold nothing back. It is imperative that anything important gets brought up so that we may find a way to combat it. This can be anything, from more minor issues to more severe discoveries. Petty theft from specific types of vendors. An uptick in violent activity. Organized crime. Even just squabbles between your most influential figures.

I have my utmost faith that you will know what I mean. I look forward to holding your company once more. Dress as you will. Your compliance and cooperation are greatly appreciated. And I again apologize for my daughter’s behavior at the gathering. Hopefully, this opportunity will more than make up for it. A carriage will arrive on ███ ██████ at █ ██████ ████ ████.

Yours Faithfully,

Liu’er Mihou

***

“Yes, yes. I’ll be careful, love.”

[Name] laughs as Lex fusses over him, feeling quite flattered by all of the attention from his husband.

It isn’t like the man neglects him. Lex is a very busy man, given his position in the city.

One he has worked quite hard to get to. And, now that he has it, it is one that will continue to work him to the bone.

[Name] wonders what the man would do without him.

Sure, he would thrive; he’s an intelligent, compassionate, and ambitious individual. But sometimes, he can’t help but worry about the way he runs himself dogged. It isn’t terribly uncommon for [Name] to have to coax his husband into relaxing and taking some time away from his duties.

“I wish I could go with you.”

[Name]’s heart flutters, as though he is falling in love for the first time all over again.

It is impossible to fall out of your affections for a man who seems to show you time and time again why you adore him so.

“Nonsense. You have so many errands to run around with as it is. It’s nice to do something for you.”

[Name] doesn’t miss the way Lex’s face warms at his words, the attractive man moving around the room to pick up a few furs, holding them up to [Name] and staring really hard, trying to match accessories to the outfit that he also helped [Name] pick out for this upcoming meeting.

It’s so cute how excited he gets when it comes to helping style [Name]’s wardrobe.

“You help me so much just by existing as you are.”

This pulls another laugh out of [Name]. “Charmer.”

He’s met with a cheeky grin in response. “But it works, doesn’t it?”

“You may have to up your game one day, if you flatter me so often.”

Lex holds a hand up to his chest, acting dramatically stricken by this information before turning to toss one of the more clashing necklaces he had in mind to the side, snatching up a simplistic watch instead and returning to [Name]’s side, offering it so that they may put it on.

“Hm… you know. Now that I think about it, he requested you quite quickly, did he not?”

[Name] secures the watch around his wrist. “Perhaps it is urgent for them. I must have been quite the convenient find…”

Lex grins. “You were for me.”

“Oh? So I’m just convenient now?”

“You know I don’t mean it like that.” 

[Name] chuckles, deciding to stop teasing his poor husband, leading the way towards the foyer. “But, really, I’m sure there’s a good reason for it. I’ll make sure to fill you in on everything when I get back.”

“Ohh, giving me something to look forward to when I finish up today’s work, huh?”

They continue to banter as time passes, words coming easily between the lovebirds. Unfortunately, Lex must depart before [Name] does so that he can tend to some important business or other, leaving [Name] alone in their home.

As the time for the meeting draws ever nearer, [Name] makes sure to collect his thoughts, thinking back on the letter and recollecting as much as he can about his grievances and woes as he can. Everything on the inside that needs to be fixed.

Much of what he witnessed being pulled from his own… experiences in the dark underbelly of what lies in this city of theirs.

If this can get them even a single step closer to the future he and Lex envisions, he will do whatever he can for it.

Ah.

It’s time.

Leaving the estate, [Name] looks around, his eyes landing on…

A horse-drawn carriage?

That’s a little inconvenient, isn't it? They have cars. Which would get them wherever they need to go much faster, and with much less uncertainty.

[Name] always found horses to be fickle little creatures.

The romantic implications of such a thing does not even cross [Name]’s mind. Figuring the simian must just be of a more eccentric and less practical sort, he heads on over, allowing the servant to help him on in (even though he feels as though he could have climbed in all on his own quite fine).

He will not make the servant’s job harder, though. Especially not when he struggles to forget the tales of the warriors’ rage others have woven.

On the off chance that they are really so capable of such cruelty, he does not wish to bring another harm simply by being fussy over something so small. He still needs to discover what type of person their protectors are for himself.

When he gets into the carriage, he is met with the sight of the Six-Eared Macaque leaning against the opposite side of the interior, his tail resting in his lap.

The door shuts behind him, and [Name] settles into his seat before opening his mouth to speak.

“Your Highness-”

With a flick of his tail and a wave of his hand, Macaque interrupts him. “Ah, ah. What did I say about all of those formalities, hm?”

With the teasing tone in his voice, the easy grin on his face, and the way his body remains so lax, [Name] can not help but note that it feels as though he is being treated as a long-time friend.

Perhaps those rumors are untrue. He can not imagine such a laid-back demon being the type to lash out so very easily.

“... Right. Macaque-” The grin on the dark-furred demon’s face widens, the monkey pleased at hearing his name on his beloved’s lips once more. It has been less than a month since they last met, and yet it feels like an eternity stretched before them. “-is there anywhere in particular you are planning for us to go?” The letter had said to dress as he would like (he also isn’t quite sure why he had received such a formal letter… Perhaps demons did not enjoy technology quite as much? Or maybe it was some tradition he had yet to learn about), but if they’re going anywhere public, he knows his image does matter quite a bit.

Though being seen with Liu’er Mihou alone is a big social boost in and of itself.

“Hm… not at all. We may stop by the market, but I just find it far more comfortable to have some nice scenery go by as we talk.” When Macaque says that, the carriage begins to move.

[Name] supposes that makes sense. A carriage is always moving, and private enough that other ears can not overhear their conversation.

Nodding along, [Name] responds with a small “I have never done so before”.

“There’s a first time for everything.” And the simian is more than happy to take any of his firsts that he can get. It already eats at him to know that he has a husband in this life. One that is not him.

When the time comes, that will be rectified.

He just has to make sure [Name] will neither hate him for it, nor be all too distraught about it. It would go against what he had spoken with Wukong about if he went ahead and caused their peach so much mental distress.

He does share Sun Wukong’s… feelings towards that other man’s existence, however.

That is only natural. Nobody would be all that pleased about seeing their partner with another.

Even if the partner does not yet know who they are truly meant to spend their life with quite yet.

Knowing he should push the conversation along lest [Name] potentially grow suspicious of his motives, the simian changes the topic. “Have you thought on my letter’s contents?”

Ah. [Name] had been wondering when Macaque would bring that up. He didn’t want to rush into the subject himself and risk offending the demon.

“I have. Is there anywhere you would desire for me to start?”

“Whatever comes to your mind is more than fine. Speak as you will. There’s no need to hold your tongue around me.”

Macaque doesn’t really care for human politics in the first place. It isn’t like he is oblivious to what they are like. The things they squabble over. The nature of humanity itself.

But if it gets him closer to [Name] in this lifetime, he will have to play along. He just needs more reasons to keep up this correspondence…

And helping him with whatever his goals are right now will be more likely to get him to trust Macaque again. Maybe respark some of that love from before.

He’s already found a way in. Now, he just needs to maintain it.

“Well… there is this family who holds quite a bit of political sway-”

Though his husband is the mayor, it would be entirely untrue to say there weren’t still many other influential members of the community. If anything, a lot of individuals could be more so powerful than them. Not because of what they can do themselves, but very much due to the fact that they can sway the groups of people that follow what they say. Their opinions. What they think is best for their own…

It all gets a little tiring. There’s much to look after. People to rub elbows with. Relationships to maintain. Groups to appease. Still, [Name] finds himself in a game of survival. This one may be thoroughly less fatal than the one he had been entwined within before, but still a struggle nonetheless. His skill set had been honed to one thing for so long that solving problems without resorting to the same brutal methods as before is giving him a new learning curve.

He is not alone this time, though. Not in the way that matters. Mother could never supply him with the amount of… genuine love he gets from Lex. The love he feels towards Lex.

He would never go back, or trade it for anything.

In the meanwhile, Macaque is content to listen to [Name] speak. Which, really, feels like falling into an old routine.

He remembers many such times in their previous lives in which he lended [Name] his ears. Let him talk about anything he desired. Sat there to comfort him after he poured his heart out and crumpled afterwards.

Those specific memories could be bittersweet. It’s never pleasant to see the love of your life in so much pain. In those lives, the issues that weighed on [Name]’s heart would chip away at him, haunting his mind when they were least desired.

Listening to him now reminds him of happier moments. Times where [Name] had shown him something he was so genuinely interested in. Hobbies he spent his time partaking in. Moments in time where they were able to exist, as lovers, without anything dampening their spirits. Thinking of nothing but each other’s company.

Those were the moments he lived for the most. The ones he’s so desperate to get right back into. There’s the slightest twitch in his tail, and he notices [Name]’s gaze flit to it. Though it is with an expression he is not quite used to.

Curiosity? It doesn’t look that open… more closed off. Maybe he is just taking note of the movement?

That’d make sense. In this life, unfortunately, he is a stranger to the darling sitting just inches from him. Close enough to touch. Close enough to shower in all of the affections he is so desperate to douse him in.

And yet, he has enough sense not to. He knows very well that this may put [Name] off. Be too forward. Like he has convinced Wukong, they need to take this slow.

Sometimes convincing Wukong is easier than convincing himself.

Trying to shake off his mounting frustrations, the dark-furred simian’s gaze trails along [Name]’s body, looking past the general reverence he feels towards his love, doing his own observations now.

Yes, [Name] looks so very different than he did before. But they have done this enough times that it is to be expected. The first time it happened, it had taken them by surprise — which was putting it mildly. But every time, it shocked them less and less. Though it still hurt whenever they lost him, it was relieving to know that they would show up again.

That they really can spend eternity together.

No matter how many times the body changes, at the core of [Name], he is still theirs. Still the same peach they pampered, adored, and devoted so much of their passion to. The one they spent all of their free time doting on whenever possible. The one they want to spoil rotten.

What he looks for is not purely the physical difference. This time, he is looking for… a similarity. Different enough from the lives before that it is entirely new, and yet familiar enough that he should be able to tell what it is.

The heaviness of something burdening his mind. Macaque can not help but wonder if, even without their intervention here, [Name] has been plagued by something that will never leave him alone. Something that will always take place in the darkest corners of his mind, hoarding it from the monkeys and infecting the rest of his psychological well-being.

Like so many times before…

The thing he wants to avoid afflicting upon [Name]... The idea of someone else already traumatizing him has Macaque feeling waves of aggression rolling up his spine. It is a struggle to keep his fur perfectly in check, not wanting his body language to express any sudden changes. It would be difficult to explain away such a thing.

He has no doubt that he could do it, but it’s still better to be safe than sorry. Always is, when [Name] is in the picture.

As such, a gentle smile crosses the simian’s face instead, and he waits until [Name] has finished filling him in on what they have deemed noteworthy before speaking. “... You’re quite knowledgeable on all of this, aren’t you? I must say, your passion for this is a rather charming trait.”

The tone in this compliment gives [Name] a brief pause. He is unsure if he is interpreting it correctly.

Is the Six-Eared Macaque flirting with him?

He can’t be.

Not only do they have the whole… demon and human compatibility thing going on, but Macaque knows he is a married man. And [Name] is faithful to his husband. There’s no way he’d throw all of that away for…

For what?

He is only here for his husband, anyway. There’s nothing he personally gains from this. Even if there’s a weird twinge in his chest, he imagines it has to be from something else. A physical issue, maybe. Because getting emotional here would not make a lick of sense. As far as he is concerned, he has no reason to be all that emotional about this.

Shaking the nonsense from clouding his head, [Name] puts on a bit of a discomfited smile, his chuckle a weary one that does not escape Macaque’s notice. “Thank you… You are very generous with your praise. I can only hope the information I am giving you is useful?”

“Very.” Macaque doesn’t miss a beat, his response coming naturally. “You’re already such a great help.” He has to work in those seeds of this being a recurring thing. Of them seeing each other again.

Of them spending more and more time together.

Of [Name] spending more and more time away from Lex.

Because that man is the only reason [Name] would toss off his little flirtations.

He glances to the side, and the carriage pulls to a stop. “Ah. We’ve made it to the market!”

The simian is the first to slip out, though he takes his time afterwards to help [Name] exit. His hand is larger than [Name]’s on, and the ex-assassin can’t help but notice another strange feeling pass through him. From the contact? Maybe.

Still, though, this whole thing feels… a little silly, on some level. He is a grown man — and he is not exceptionally dainty whatsoever. He is capable of leaving a cart on his own. He can’t fathom why the simian here is paying so much attention to him. It is nice to know he is keeping the favor of someone in power, but it is all a bit much.

The entire carriage, especially. They really could have just opted for a car…

As they walk, [Name] tosses a glance at the stalls they pass by before his attention returns fully to Macaque. “Anything you’re on the look-out for?”

“Hm?” Macaque realizes [Name] is asking about his desire to actually purchase something here, and he adds a quick amendment to that answer. “A bit of window shopping should be fun, right? We can walk and talk!”

[Name] doesn’t think this is any better than the carriage. Even if it was over-the-top, the carriage had far more privacy. They would be heavily restricted in exactly what they could say out here…

Regardless, he will play along with the simian’s whims, assuming he has a reason for all of this. Maybe it is one he does not know enough to understand. “Anything else you want me to brush you up on, then?”

Macaque makes a show of thinking. There’s a tilt to his head, his furred hand coming up to his chin.

“Hmmm…” While he hasn’t been tuning out the love of his life, exactly, he doesn’t really… care too much for the human politics. Just for the sound of [Name]’s voice. Thinking about it makes him anxious to wrap his tail around the other’s arm. Intwine himself with them. Be closer to him. 

Forcing himself to get back on track before he gets ahead of himself, he knows he needs something to latch onto. Something to use as an excuse. But nothing in particular stands out. It all sounds… about what you might expect from the typical political games. Nothing too outstanding.

Though it isn’t like he didn’t notice that [Name] seems particularly interested in making this place better. Maybe that would provide him a lead.

“I know you said a few times that you’re making an effort to get these people to accept a ‘big change’ here… What exactly is that looking like for you?”

Still, Macaque’s tone is pleasant and laid-back. One might expect a tone more akin to an interview, given that [Name] very much went into this with more… professional thoughts in mind. However, the way Macaque speaks to him, it is still as though they are long-time friends. His voice is warm, and he can tell that the simian is genuinely listening to him. That he is not just asking these questions due to it being the socially acceptable and polite thing to do.

He hesitates, though, unsure of how much he should say in public.

Unsure if they’re still listening. Keeping an eye on him. Waiting for a chance to punish him for getting away.

He would not be surprised, even if he doesn’t feel anyone watching them right now. You can never be too cautious.

He would know, given he was in their shoes before. You overhear plenty of things when people think nobody else is paying any attention.

“Well… there’s a lot of corruption in this city. Really, I just want to take care of it.” He wants to dig into the root of the problem and tear it out. But that is not the most elegant way to speak to one of the warriors protecting your city, now is it?

There’s an indecipherable smile on Macaque’s face when he nods along in response to this, as though he expects no less. “It’s a respectable thing to desire-” Before [Name] can decide whatever the emotions mixing together on Macaque’s face and wriggling their way into his tone are, something has caught the dark-furred simian’s eye, and he turns to a stall.

With the slightest tilt of his head, [Name] trails closer to see what he’s picking up.

A keychain. One with a very delicately crafted and painted peach adornment attached to the end, the chain a beautiful rose gold color.

Tossing money to the vendor, who looks relatively terrified of the warrior (likely because of how much of a ruckus those kids of theirs put up), doesn’t even count it, scrambling to store it away as Macaque begins walking with [Name] again, attention fully returning to him. He pushes the item into [Name]’s palm, as though this is a normal thing to do and their previous conversation hadn’t been cut off right in the middle of the simian speaking. “For you.”

“-?” Taken aback by this, [Name] feels his mind floundering to figure out what the simian’s motives with this can possibly be. It’s such odd behavior… “For what?”

Speaking still as though none of this is unnatural, Macaque gives a little wave of his hand as he responds, elaborating on his sudden gift. “Longevity. Perhaps it will give you some aid in your journey. Make sure your good fortune continues, and nothing bad comes your way.”

This, of course, is bullshit. Macaque just wants to give him a gift that reminds him of their previous lives together, and the newer one that awaits them. It is a way to abate his own ravenous desire for the man before him. A way to make sure he has something he gave him with him at all times.

If [Name] has any troubles, Macaque is plenty sure of his ability to take care of that on his own. [Name] didn’t need to rely on a charm for that.

[Name] takes this explanation, however, and nods. That makes sense. Even though it isn’t like this is a more traditional peach charm… He can understand the symbolism behind such a gift. And perhaps that is what matters, at the end of the day?

He can’t make sense of the confusing flustering in his chest, though.

“Thank you. That’s very thoughtful of you.” He isn’t sure, either, whether he’s just being polite, or if some part of him genuinely believes that, as he slips the keychain into his pocket.

Macaque’s grin tells him that, at the very least, he said the right thing, given that the simian lets that part of the conversation drop there and returns to the previous one. “Though you really should come visit the palace. I can get you an audience with Wukong.” It would be nothing like a formal, traditional audience. Macaque knows that. Flower Fruit Mountain’s king is far more impatient than he, and he feels like he is constantly holding himself back here. He can only imagine how bad it is for Wukong. “You can work something out with him, hm?”

This is great news to [Name], though he falters. While the arrangement is amazing, it is not his job to do such things. This networking is for Lex. And it is Lex who is mayor.

“Well… My husband is the one who will be able to discuss it in more detail with Sun Wukong than I would be able to. It would only be right for him to go instead.”

Something dark passes over Macaque’s face, and his tail curls before lashing about a few times. It doesn’t take long for the warrior to get this in check, though, and his grin is a bit forced this time. Sharp.

The animosity, [Name] can vaguely tell, is not really aimed at him, however…

“... I understand. But you certainly must at least accompany him.”

Well. [Name] can do that. Of course.

This one, he agrees to in a heartbeat. “Absolutely. That’s arrangeable. I’ll just have to discuss it with him first.”

Another lash of the dark tail. “Great!”

It does not seem great. Especially since the rest of the meeting has an odd… tension that was not there before.

———   ———   ———

When Macaque makes it back to the palace, he brings his hands to his face and groans into them, tilting his head up.

Everything had gone so fine… Until that aggravating man was brought up. He knows they have to wait. To get [Name] away from him, bit by bit. To ease him into it, so that he won’t be quite so traumatized, like he had been in some other lives.

That does not make this easier. It keeps him from killing the man right here and now, but that does not mean it is an easy feat for the warrior. It takes a great amount of self-control.

He feels someone in the hall with him, and, as expected, when he looks, an exceptionally smug Sun Wukong greets his vision. “... You struggling over there, bud?” He knows damn well Macaque is struggling. And likely why.

“Shut up.”

[marzipanilla]

And right now the only wall bashing happening is my head against the bricks lol

I love how we've totally managed to swap which thread is actually discussing SU stuff lol

Jasper finally breaking down like YOU HAVE THE POWER OF A DIAMOND. you are a diamond! And yet you wander around. paying for things. staring at the scenery. I WOULD CONQUER GALAXIES IN YOUR NAME. why aren't you ordering me to use MY power to do that? am I too small now, my diamond?

And poor Steven just having to be like, okay, first off, stop calling me that- here, eat this donut, we're gunna watch the sunrise and I'm not gunna unpack all that bc it's not my job anymore. you can figure it out Jasper. I'm pretty sure you already know the answer.

J: because you're weak?

S: -.- Try again.

lol Nolan hobbies powered by spite. yeah. Him suddenly being supportive of Mark going to college if he goes in for journalism xD Mark awkwardly meeting up with SpiderMan later after his dad has him shake him down like, hey dude, we good? you aren't secretly evil, right?? and Peter having to throw that line right back at his face and then they get the ultimate irony later. Aw, now I'm thinking about Peter and Aunt May hanging out with Debbie and Mark after lol

Would JJ lose his shit or actually start a Omni-Man was framed campaign??? he works against Invincible and Spidey now xD JJ and Powerplex in a room together. oof.

You saw my ep reorder ramble already but yeah !! Powerplex should have opened the season. Then the way I see it, Mark then has his future Immortal run in and is then all fucked up about having to kill him/not wanting to/being forced into it, and maybe he tells Cecil about what happened because they are still kinda buds at that point ! And then the Doc Seismic shit is happening and Mark is holding back bc he just killed a guy again and is wigging out and everyone gets screwed. Then when Mark loses it on Cecil he can be like the GDA doesn't get to decide shit. Powerplex worked for you, stole from you, and murdered his own family. And Cecil gets to be like You JUST came back from the future and told me you were an emperor who left Immortal in charge !! I NEED a way to contain you ! It would make his willingness to be so stupidly overhanded make more sense if he had just heard this kid merked and even older Immortal.

All of the pieces are there !! why is the narrative so out of sorts !! WHY

I actually legit thought Powerplex was new to the show for a moment before he said his name and I saw his family and my brain supplied an image of them flash fried and I was like, oh yeah, I kinda recall this xD

Oliver talking about what he remembered of his parents would have been so fucking important to open with ! I should not be learning this at the end of the fucking season ! And instead of bullshit with Paul we could have gotten a moment from Debbie expressing what she goddamn thinks about Nolan's legacy. What she actually has been telling Oliver about his family, if anything. How she feels about her role in everything and not some bs stock 'normal' shit which she has never expressed wanting before. There is a meter between 'world conquering jackass' and 'total stale white bread' and I think she deserves not to be stuck on world conquering jackass, but she should be nowhere near stale ass white bread.

Way back in S2 I was actually chatting with some other folks who had also read the comic, and honest to god one of the things we talked about that I hoped would happen aside from Oliver being totally written out (a fucking pipe dream but I honestly thought only 3 months had gone by in the show and not the 6 from the comic until the show ass pulled another three months out of Mark's time at high school somehow...) was that if they did keep Debbie raising Oliver that they LET her be weird and a little resentful and that was why he turned into such a prick who was down to murder. Because no matter how decent she was trying to be to this kid who didn't deserve being treated like garbage due to who his father was she couldn't fucking help it, and I would have been fine with her showing that bit of weakness. but they kept everything pretty much the same except they allowed her to not be totally into it from the get go like the comics.

Right now the stuff I like about S3 are, the Cecil flashback, Nolan's breakout, and ep6. Like. hope to god y'all saved your entire animation budget for the last two eps and they don't totally crash and burn so at least if the story continues to be meh I can at least watch something fun.

I know you want to put Powerplex and Mark in a room together but Debbie talking to him. like. I lost everyone. all my friends were murdered. my husband was a monster. my son nearly died. all my close friends of the last 20 years were murdered. You see me out there killing randos and picking fights? No. I'm getting my shit together and building something. You had a family and you pissed it away.

God. I think I just miss seeing her be a little mean to people. Even her talks with Cecil come across as sad more than angry. Let Debbie fucking yell at people again, what the fuck happened there. She was so dismissive of the white house attack ! of Nolan ending up in another dimension ! YES LET HER BE RECKLESS. let her be callous. stop having her suddenly being a fucking doormat for other people's freakouts. its okay baby, I support you no matter what ! FUCK THAT. she needs to snap or at least be shown getting some support so I understand why she isn't just fucking killing people lol

Debbie designating herself a fucking Problem when. Her and a crew of villain adjacent buddies coulda been so fun. Cecil not being able to spy on them anymore bc she now has resources to get that shit off her back. I need people in her corner so fucking bad. A much more gray morality Debbie tho. It's honestly one of the things I really appreciated about S1. She doesn't tell Mark to be good, she tells him to make choices he can live with. The closest she gets to a 'be a hero' statement is nobody is beneath help. God. I would love for that convo to come back up between her and Mark. for it to get nasty re: Nolan.

Eve just starting a business is like, okay whatevs, but that is a federal prison. Government contracts have so much shit built into them ! how they work what you need to do to qualify ! and this fucking teenager just gets the contract?? it definitely shows that heroes are above the law bc wtf. Is it bc she worked with the GDA before that it got greenlit?? If there were attempts to bring a fucking court case against Invincible in recent memory and the public was shaky on his image bc his dad just tried to take over the fucking planet why would he qualify for government contracts !!! if you really want to try and fucking double down on his stupid prison is the only option mandate, than fucking have him go into a damn job interview and give the best police brutality is justified cop speech ever, bc prisons are responsible for the health and safety of their inmates and them hiring man who punches things does not speak highly of the care they give. Tie his fucking job into why he is a hero and not 'damn I need money guess this'll do'. and it is once more something he does not pick. Doormat Mark expose when. just... damn.

Where did the character drama go ??? why do episode one off randos get more depth ??? The exchange between Kate and her brother was great, and it was 100% the kind of conversation Mark should have been having with someone. I also immediately wanted to be like 'oh are you going to mention that you were willing to let everyone believe you were dead just to run away and get out of things Kate? including your brother remember that? no? hm' Why is Rae suddenly living out Kate's apparent fucking dream of retirement. like wtf happened there.

While I'm not too familiar with the DCU- your batfam meta posts are intiguing- so in transfering some of the broader strokes from them- I think you tackling a 'Mark isn't Nolan's biological son' fic would be fascinating. Sort of a step to the side of the 'what if Mark never got his powers' fic that sometimes pop up in the fandom

OOOOOO chewing on this currently, hm, the much a distinct flavor of exactly what you’re talking about, but the potential for more family drama depending on WHO knows. Does Mark know?? Is he waiting every day only to be crushed? Does he confused non-Debbie features with Nolan’s? I suppose I’m not the most enthusiastic about non-power AUs, but I think there’s something very fun to explore about Mark having to settle with, if he knows all his life, he will never have powers? I think the trajectory of his dreams will obviously shift, I can see him still having that distinct fatherly idolization, but perhaps embraces being useful to the GDA? Cecil’s number one intern—only intern—curtesy of nepotism, ha! There is something tickling me about Mark taking the Robin Route/Role for the Teen Team in terms of having no powers, just insane skills, BUT there’s something way more delicious about intern Mark when s1e01 happens and Mark tries snooping around to find out the truth about what happened to his Dad.

I wonder if, with Mark having a whole another father, if they’re more or less distant relationship, depending on WHEN Nolan entered Mark’s life? Like if Debbie met Nolan later for this, or just for fun, they dated once, separated (Mark being born during then), then they happened to stumble into each others lives again and Mark’s already been born, anywhere from tween to teenager so there’s a gap in how close they are. I feel like one important aspect of the whole Family Drama is how close they’re supposed to be, a functional, loving family turned upside down? So I wonder what more distance does. I wonder how Nolan copes when his family is entirely human and he can’t project onto Mark.

I love thinking about these, omg.

[angeart]

What's your favorite trope to read in fanfic?

hi! i thinkkk my favourites would be hurt/comfort (shocking, i know), slow burn, found family, and anything that kind of deals with trauma.

[kaidanalenkosprmanager]

Sophie Oliveira-Shepard Alenko-Oliveira and Kaidan Alenko-Oliveira - ME3 (2/?) "I want to be your strength. Your soft place to land." Mass Effect 3: Legendary Edition (2021) + Bonus

[earl-grey-crow]

someone needs to take coyle to coyle's