#the fact that those people think that is sad and pathetic

[theweirdcobrakaifan]

I’m sorry but the fact that people (those new “cobra Kai fans” that say Daniel is a glazers) say that chozen would agreed with Johnny for what he said about Mr miyagi is so fucking horrible to me and fully wrong because if anything chozen would have did worse to Johnny then what Daniel did if he heard Johnny say that mr miyagi was a liar and theif and those people act like chozen wouldn’t agree with Daniel chozen would be on Daniel side 100% because he know fighting with anger and how it could lead you down a path of hate and he know that mr Miyagi is a good person and yes he has some flaws but he is still a good person

This is why I love chozen he literally Daniel like hero like he will go all out for Daniel 100%

He the only one that stick by him in s5 when Amanda left him and he was ready to cut off silver head chozen you are best boyfriend fr

[misstycloud]

What about a yandere playboy x revenge-driven reader?

Yandere! Playboy is the guy on campus. How can he not be? He has everything a person could ever want. He is wealthy, handsome and has many friends. Best of all qualities; he’s great in bed.

Yandere! Playboy has been hitting beds for years now. He is young and has a right to live life to the fullest, so why shouldn’t he enjoy himself while he still can? His parents doesn’t approve of this behaviour but what can they do to stop him? Besides, he’s already told his father that he’ll find someone to settle down with when he’s older and fit to take over the company. He doesn’t want to lose the privileged life he has so it’s in his best favour to just do what his dad tells him to and find someone to marry later.

It wouldn’t reflect well on the company if its leader is a scandalous, immature playboy after all.

Yandere! Playboy who has been with most of the people on campus. The only exception are the ones he and his friends consider ‘too ugly’ or ‘just not up to standards’- which can be due to anything. It’s basically become a game by this point; who in the friend group can be the college’s number one player.

Yandere! Playboy who almost let his friend surpass him in that department. It was a close call. Good luck he found a cute girl in time so he could drive up his score just above his friend’s. He noticed her at a party. He hadn’t seen her around before so he guessed she was new. The girl looked very out-of-place, standing in a corner while everyone else were letting loose. Did she come alone? Whatever, it didn’t matter. Quickly he snatched her up. She definitely wasn’t the best he’s had, nowhere near it in fact. She was an average fuck at best. It was only after he’d brought her home and fucked her until she cried, that he realised his mistake. After the deed was done she was awfully clingy. She wrapped her arms around him and tried to nuzzle his neck, much to his dismay.

Yandere! Playboy hastily pushed her off and asked her what she thought she was doing. Confused, she responded that she just wanted to cuddle since what they did was so special. Oh no, he thought. She was one of those girls who thought hooking up once meant ‘relationship’. How could he be so stupid? He knew better than to take ‘sweet’ girls with him, they always ended up deluding themselves they were a couple. Sternly, he told her to get out. This made her confused and she wondered if she’d done something wrong.

“Yes, you’ve done something wrong.”

“What was it? Please tell me.” She whispered in a small voice.

He sneered at her. “You think we’re a couple now or some shit. Sorry to burst your bubble but we’re not together.”

The girl bit her lip, tears welling up in her eyes. “We’re…not? Then why would you-“

“-don’t think you’re special. I just didn’t want my pal’s fuck-score to get higher than mine and you were the first decent thing I could find.”

Afterward he kicked her out. He didn’t give a shit that she was crying. Her feelings didn’t matter to him. No one’s feelings mattered to him besides his own. It was her own fault for getting her hopes up. She was cute, don’t get him wrong. But she seemed way too much of a goody two-shoes for him.

Yandere! Playboy who went about life normally after that. Occasionally he did see his latest lay around campus but she never approached him, instead she chose to send him a sad glance now and then. Pathetic.

Yandere! Playboy had been so caught up with a bunch of school work, he swore the professors had it out for him. After all that tediousness he deserved a break. He needed to relax and there was only one way to do that correctly. Unfortunately his regular ‘buddies’ were unavaliable, he’ll have to find someone else tonight.

Yandere! Playboy who searched the room filled with dancing, intoxicated people. The constantly colour-switching lights made him dizzy. No matter how much he searched he could not see anyone who’d caught his interest. He was about to give up when someone finally got his attention. It was you. Gosh you were just gorgeous. Wow, he thought. He hadn’t seen anyone like you before. Luckily you appeared to notice him too. He seductivle licked his lips while staring into your eyes and was happy when you showed equal interest.

Yandere! Playboy who didn’t waste a minute and went right up to you. You were been hotter up close. This was going to be fun, he thought as he led you upstairs.

Yandere! Playboy was in shock. What the hell just happened? The morning light shone directly in his face but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. After he’d brought you to his room for what he’d imagined to be a usual fun night, he’d been fully surprised. You were nothing short of amazing. He couldn’t recall a moment when he’d ever felt so good. Usually he was the one to lead but you took over as if for was the most natural thing in the world. Never in his life had he been so thoroughly explored. The bruises on his body still ached when he moved.

He needed more.

Yandere! Playboy became obsessed afterwards. He had to see you again. All those years of sleeping around could never amount to the pleasure he felt that night with you and he desperately wanted to feel it again. Sadly, it was like you vanished. Did you not go to the same college? He asked around but no one knew you. Strange, he thought. Weeks passed and there was still no sign of you. He was incredibly pent up now. He had been focused on finding you that he hadn’t taken anyone home since. His friends thought he was acting way to obsessed with his random person and needed to calm down. Perhaps if he spent time with someone he’d cool off. They see him up to meet one of his regular ‘buddies’ who was more than happy to see him again.

Yandere! Playboy tried to recreate the experience with them but it didn’t work. They were all clumsy and didn’t know how to make anything feel good. He couldn’t even finish that time. Frustrated, he threw them out and told them he wanted to be alone. Why wasn’t it working? What went wrong? And why the hell couldn’t he stop thinking about you? It made him want to tear his hair out.

While he was deeply grumbling about his newfound problem, he was interrupted by a knock on his door. He shouted at the person to leave him alone but the knocking didn’t stop. He ripped the door open and was prepared to scream at the other person when his eyes widened in surprise. He was speechless.

There in the doorway stood you. You gave him a wicked smile, “Can I come in?”

Yandere! Playboy practically became your dog after that. He knows your name now, (Y/n). He shudders just thinking about it. Turns out you do go to another college and you’re not the most social person which explains why no one had heard of you. Not only are you fantastic on the outside, he finds you to be a wonderful person too. The more you’ve hung out, the more he’s gotten to know about you. He currently knows these five things: you always have a way to make him laugh, you share many hobbies(some which he can’t talk about even with his closest friends), you value his opinion, never talk down to him, and he absolutely loves you.

Yandere! Playboy who immediately cuts off his previous hook ups. You’re the only one for him. There isn’t a soul out there who can be your match. All of his friends have become so annoying. All they say is about how much he’s changed and it’s crazy how he’s doing a complete 180 for one single person. He ignores them. If they can’t see how perfect you are then that’s their loss, and he can’t be friends with them anymore. The only ones happy about this change are his parents.

He recalls his father saying, “So you’ve finally decided to be a real man and stop with your foolishness.”

“Yes. I have found my one and only love, the person I’m going to marry.”

His father nodded. Yandere! Playboy smiled. He had all intention to follow up with his statement. He loved you and based of your reactions around him, he’d say you loved him too.

Yandere! Playboy who was all giddy as he waited for you at the restaurant you’d decided to meet in. You had been hanging out for months now and he thought it was time to ask you to be his official partner(future spouse). It was a perfect setting. He has brought a bouquet of flowers and put on nice clothes. The ambiance was just right.

He waited.

You weren’t there yet, but sometimes you ran a little late.

He waited some more.

You still weren’t there. That’s all right! He’ll sit there until you arrive.

He sat in his chair long enough to see the staff send him pitiful looks. Where were you? It had been far too long for you to simply be ‘running a little late’. Did you get into an accident? He prayed nothing had happened to you. Quickly he pulled out his phone and sent you a text. Or well, he tried to.

‘Unable to send message’

What? He didn’t understand. Why wasn’t his text getting through? Did you…block him? No that wasn’t possible. There was no reason you would do that. You loved him. He loved you. You wouldn’t block him. All of his attempts to contact you went into the garbage. When he called; direct to voicemail. He tried looking for you, although that proved to be a lot harder than he thought. It was then he realised he had no idea where you lived. You were always at his place and he never questioned it. He went to your college and asked if anyone had seen you but they all said they didn’t know anyone by the name of (Y/n) who went there. Did you lie about where you went to school?

Yandere! Playboy who became depressed. He couldn’t find you anywhere. You had vanished, just like before. Except this time you never came back. His head was filled with questions. Where were you? Are you safe? Why did you leave him? Didn’t you love him too? He fell into despair. His parents wanted to help him and so did the friends he abandoned for you (they came back, he couldn’t understand why), but nothing they did helped. They weren’t you.

Please come back to him, he needs you.

————

A/n: for clarification, the girl in the beginning is reader’s friend.

[theprettynosferatu]

In Case of Thoughts, Break Mind

Oh no! Oh dear. It seems you've been having a lot of thoughts lately- certainly more than you should! And thoughts are icky! Thoughts make you sad and anxious and so unhappy! But fear not! Thoughts can happen to anyone, even the most addicted edgeslut, so don't be hard on yourself!

Lucky for you, I've made this handy dandy guide to help you turn those thoughts into nice thots!

In Case of Morning Thoughts

So you just woke up, opened your eyes, aaaaand... there they are. The day ahead flashing in your mind. All the things you have to do, or should do, or... boo! Such bad thoughts, sneaking up on you like that! But don't worry, you may not be able to turn them off, but you can direct them in more pleasant directions.

It's a new day! A new chance to be slutty! A brilliant opportunity to fall to new, delicious depths! So when those bad thoughts come, think of what you can wear to look like the sex object you are. Think of all the people that will look at you and imagine themselves using every part of you for their pleasure. Think of how you'll be able to objectify yourself and get soaked knowing you'll be seen as the dumb whore you are!

Now, you might want to rub that needy cunt. Do it! Starting with an edge will keep you dumb and horny for the rest of the day. Just don't cum, lest the thoughts come back!

In Case of Work Thoughts

Sometimes you'll have to engage with this whole "job" thingy. It sucks, I know! And they don't even let you rub unless you hide in the bathroom, which is so unfair! Plus, you don't want to be fired, so you will have to do *some* amount of thinking.

If that's the case, just remember: why do you work? To have money. Why do you need money? To have things you need and want. And that's what you need to keep in mind! You work to buy slutty clothes and toys. You work to have internet to break your brain with porn. You work to have your own place to take slutty pics and rub to what strangers online tell you to do.

You work to be able to please others.

So focus on that! Remember that work sucks, but it enables you to be a depraved cunt. Plus, you can always cocktease a bit a work, if you can get away with it.

You can also make a small mistake, just so you feel like a dumb whore that needs help doing anything right. Get someone to assist you doing something you know how to do. They will think you're such a stupid slut! And isn't that delightful?

And when everything else fails, you can always dip to the bathroom for a quick edge!

In Case of College Thoughts

Oh look at you, being all smart and stuff! I get it, I get it. Studying requieres you to think. Ugh. Fiiiine. However, remember there's a card you can always play:

You are smart. And I am well aware that being smart, as a rule, totally sucks. But the fact that you are smart does give you an extra edge (so to speak): Because you are smart the fact that you want to be a mindless, stupid cumdoll is just all the more pathetic!

A dumb toy, born dumb, can kinda fall into being a giggling slut. But you? You are working for it. You are degrading your own intelligence by using it to break yourself. Shit, you might be paying to be smart while edging those very smarts away!

So yes, university is hard. But don't you think a nice person online will get so much more pleasure knowing the cunt obeying like a bitch in heat has a PHD? That the drooling girl posing for nude after nude has a master's degree? That they got a college graduate to write "worthless holes" on her own tits?

So focus on that! The higher you climb, the further you have to fall.

And I do so enjoy watching dolls fall.

In Case of Night Thoughts

Ah, night. The time for the shadow self to come out and play. But sometimes, some unfortunate souls find themselves worrying about the next day, or replaying the events of the daytime in their heads, or letting the silence of the night get to them, stirring all manner of unwanted and unpleasant thoughts.

Well... stop it!

Night time is edging time.

So whatever is in that pathetic head of yours, push it aside, start watching the strongest porn you can find, go into deep binges of reading smut and looking at captions, look at all the other good girls rubbing like you, begging to be made into useful fucktoys.

I've been quite understanding about your day thinking. But at night you have no excuse. Blast hypno files into your brain. Repeat your mantras over and over and over. Degrade yourself for others. Obey and discover new kinks you could never imagine.

And above all, edge. Edge. Edge. Never cum. Edge everywhere you can. Get your juices all over your furniture. On your stuffed toys. On your clothes. Make everything smell of your desperation. Then edge more. Go deeper. Edge to your deepest, darkest fantasies. Become a spectacle to yourself and others. Type your fucked up babbling and post it. Edge to your own perversion.

Night time is doll time. Don't waste it!

We all have thoughts. But with diligence, you'll be able to steer yours into making yourself a better toy. That's all you need, after all!

And if you feel your thoughts overwhelming you, just say to yourself:

I'm just a toy. No one cares about my thoughts. Not even me.

It wouldn't even be a lie!

[missdynamighttt]

About the interview thing where Bakugou say "when I make love to my wife", here is a few more lines he could say! Imagine Bakugou softer when talking about that. He has a lost look and a strange smile on his face, all because of his girl.

"The bed it's our kingdom and she's my queen".

"That's where I belong. In her."

"Being a hero is just my job, something I'm good at for a while. But making love to her? There's nothing better. Knowing that I'm the only one who can make her feel like that, who can adore her like that... And she's the only one for me too. Nothing else matters. Not the fights, the danger, the villains, the paperwork, the pressure or the expectations. Just a husband and wife loving each other all night along."

And in this context, Bakugou would say that he finds pathetic and sad that a man only lasts a few minutes and only one round. Sometimes he hears his fellow heroes talk about sex and he can only feel sorry for their girlfriends, but also proud to know that his wife will never know how those girls feel, because for Katsuki Bakugou if a man is not willing to last at least all night, if each round does not last more than 10 minutes, if he does not have his woman crying with pleasure and love, If he doesn't make her not remember how many times she came, if he don't have sex with her every single day without miss, if she is not on the verge of fainting without being able to walk the next day, is the man really a man or just a poor attempt?

as your husband walks through the threshold of your home, the sound of the lock clicking behind him echoes in the quiet room. katsuki immediately notices the change in the air—there's an awkward tension that wasn't there when he left.

you’re avoiding his gaze, busily moving around the kitchen, trying to keep your mind occupied. you’re embarrassed, the thought of his words replaying in your mind again and again.

the fact that he shared such... intimate, genuine thoughts with the entire world... it wasn’t that you were ashamed, but the sudden attention on your private life caught you off-guard.

"so... you’re gonna act like you didn’t just see me on tv?" katsuki says with a hint of curiosity, and a touch of worry as he notices how your back was turned away from him.

without a word, you feel the heat of his body as he presses himself against your back, his strong hands settling on your waist. he presses his lips to the side of your neck, warm and soft against your skin. it starts off slow and gentle at first, but there’s an underlying urgency to it, a need for your attention.

"i'm sorry, baby," he murmurs between kisses. "i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, alright?"

"katsuki," you scold as he apologizes, your breath hitches when he places a particularly slow kiss on your collarbone, warmth from his affection still lingering in your chest.

"i’m sorry… but i don’t regret saying any of it. you’re my wife, and i’m fuckin' proud of it. i'm the one who gets to love you like this. i'm the one who gets to fuck you so hard you see stars."

katsuki doesn't stop kissing you, his kisses growing more insistent, but you don’t let him off the hook so easily. you finally turn around, gently pushing him back, even as your heart races.

"i just can't believe you said all that. on live tv," it’s clear you’re not mad, unsure of how to handle this side of him— this soft, unfiltered honesty as his lips trail down your neck to your shoulder.

his fiery gaze softens just a little, and then presses another kiss to your lips, this one slower, deeper, as if to reassure you. "i know, baby, i'm sorry. just… don’t ignore me, okay? it hurts."

"you’re unbelievable," your voice holds more affection than you’d like to admit. "you just gonna let millions of people know how much stamina you have, huh? bet they all think you're some kind of—"

sex god. but before you can say it, katsuki presses a firm kiss to your lips, cutting off your words, his hands slipping around your back to pull you in even closer. he doesn’t let you retreat this time, his lips working their magic on you, unable to ignore the way your body betrays you.

"don't fuckin' care. you're still my wife, sweets. you’re the only one who matters to me. maybe i just need to show you how much i love you. properly."

you scold him with a half-hearted shove, but there's no real heat behind it. "you really know how to make a woman want to kill you and kiss you at the same time, don’t you?"

as he pulls away just enough to look you in the eye, feeling the heat of his gaze. you can’t deny the way his words, his kisses, have melted the tension between you. "you know you're the only one for me, sweets. always."

"i know. but you’re still crazy for doing that."

he chuckles, pulling you close, burying his face in your hair. "yeah, well… crazy’s what you get when you’ve got an amazin' fuckin' wife like you."

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ SHAMELESS KATSUKI ENJOYER NUMBER TWO OMGOMG

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

There is a special place in hell for all the people behind these bot attacks that harm AO3 and the communities we built.

A reminder that Archive of Our Own is not Instagram or TikTok. It isn’t run by a big company with money and power. The site is a non-profit site run by volunteers (fans), for fans. And its main purpose is to bring people within the same fandom together and connect artists with audiences who would love and appreciate these artists’ works. It’s the only platform without any ads, without any censorship, without any of these capitalism bullshit. It doesn’t make users pay for any features and the only source of money they get, to keep the site up and running, is through donations. It’s literally a safe place for every fandom.

To think that it’s a target just because it’s easier to attack than those huge companies is just so sad.

Not to mention that there are so many genuine guest users out there (people who aren’t logged in / don’t have an AO3 account), and these people are directly affected by this whole thing, because they are no longer able to comment and connect with their favorite creators — and this still affects creators directly because I know for a fact that getting comments and being able to connect with their audience mean the world to them. I don’t blame AO3 for disabling guest comments altogether.

I do blame and curse the fuckers behind these bot attacks though.

If you try to sabotage AO3, out of all the other platforms out there, you are pathetic. You’re not just attacking a small, independent company, you’re trying to tear apart people’s communities and safe place. Disrespectfully, fuck you. Burn in hell.

Mad respect to all the brave soldiers that are AO3 volunteers who work harder than god fighting these scums.

I know these brave soldiers will win in the end (they always did, this isn’t their first battle, mind you), but in the meantime I’m sending them all my love and respect. They truly are the heroes.

[keepingitformyself]

older (and wiser): i

synopsis: in which time could have never undone what she left.

A/N: FIRST WANDA FIC!!! had this idea long ago when i was crushing hard on this girl from the theatre program at my uni; around that time i had also seen ‘past lives’ and i wanted to do something similar with that film. also at my core i know wanda maximoff would’ve totally been a theatre kid, this is me paying ode to that. while this specific part doesn’t go into that, i am gonna work on a sort of prequel to this Short Series…anyways enjoy!!!

pairings: wanda maximoff x reader

genre: angst?

warnings: it’s sad. but it gets hopeful…

MASTERLIST part ii

please do not repost my work anywhere for any reason at all. if you do see this happen to any of my stories, please let me know. thank you x.

it had been years.

wanda had finally decided to take a breather. she’d been working non-stop ever since she left for work all those years ago after college.

she didn’t think she’d get so lucky off that one job, that it’d immediately get her into another, or another, and so on and so forth.

she loved her work, sure, but now it was catching up to her. everyone in her life, her manager, her agent, her family had all begged her to slow down.

“take some time off, wanda.” her agent, daniel had said to her during a meeting. wanda’s eyes traveled between daniel and her manager, samara.

the meeting had all been a set up. what wanda thought was supposed to be a discussion on a new project, was actually a ploy. she had no idea the meeting was meant to convince her to take a break.

“yeah right.” she scoffed. not believing in what they were saying.

“we’re serious, wanda.” samara stated, her eyes stern but with genuine care. “when was the last time you had time for yourself?”

wanda remained silent at the words. all of a sudden she felt like a kid being scolded by their parents. and she wished to be anywhere else but in the room with them.

“really.” daniel starts. “go be a real person. smell the flowers, meet people, fall in love, take in the view—”

“i meet people all the time, daniel.” wanda quickly cut in.

all daniel could do was shake his head, a sigh escaping his lips as he tried his hardest to make the woman in front of him understand.

“you know that’s not what i meant, wanda.” he gives her a pointed look.

with a jaw clenched, she crossed her arms over her chest and looked off to the side. the windows overlooking los angeles now seeming more interesting than this conversation.

“we know how much it means for you to work, we know how much you enjoy it, but you’ve been doing it for so long. we just want you at your best.” she hears samara say. and as much as she hated to admit it, daniel and samara were right.

wanda hadn’t stopped working since she started. in fact, it’s all she can think to do. she didn’t have anyone outside of work—no partner, no obligations except to her family. why stop when there was nothing waiting for her?

wanda knew the answer but wouldn’t admit it. she might as well never have fully faced it.

the truth was, she’d loved someone once. she’d loved you. and no matter how much time had passed, the thought of you still gnawed at her.

though everything was perfect for a while, her career was well off, she was successful, and her family was proud.

but wanda couldn’t help asking, is this really it?

of course, she tried meeting people. she really tried. she didn't like being miserable over someone she hadn't been in contact with for years. but even that wasn't enough. it was honestly a bit pathetic. it had happened years ago. four years, to be exact. wanda should’ve been well moved on by now, but she isn’t. at least not entirely.

so, she poured everything into her work to distract her from that gnawing feeling inside her. the one that had been lit up all those years ago. the one that was tamable with you around.

but you’re not around, and wanda couldn’t help but throw herself into more work hoping she could get rid of it, get rid of you. but she hasn’t.

“listen, wanda,” daniel cuts her train of thought. “your work is important and people need it, but to keep it up to that degree, you need to go out and just be a human.” he finishes.

wanda sighs. she leans forward on her knees and drops her head into her hands. daniel was right. they were both so right.

wanda never properly dealt with things. maybe it's time she finally did.

she looks up from her hands, a look of defeat yet understanding, with pursed lips she finally says,

"fine."

and now, two months later, wanda finds herself back in los angeles, in an empty home, eating expensive sushi.

she had gotten off the phone with her brother, pietro, who had just joined her on the recent trip she’d been on.

a trip that he insisted he’d join her on to make sure wanda would do all the resting and touristy things she should.

she had done all the traveling she could do in the last two months, jumping from plane to plane. talking to strangers, being a tourist in european cities, and befriending random people in planes.

now, wanda actually had time for herself, time with her brain. a thing she honestly didn't want to face. because even thinking about anything made it even more real.

but now wanda was bored, and the movie playing on her eighty-inch television wasn't doing much to entertain her. and it also didn't help that it was eleven pm on a thursday night and all wanda could do was feel bad for herself.

so she does the next thing she had been really trying to avoid,

stalking your social media.

wanda herself wasn’t much active online these days. she had much to do day-to-day and week-to-week, rarely would she ever have the patience to sit down and scroll through her phone much. that and she honestly tried to stay off of it.

but now she has the time. and the patience. and honestly, she’s a little scared at what she could find.

she tells herself it doesn't have to mean anything. just a little check-in to see how you were, after that she'd really work on trying to forget about you altogether.

and with the simple type in of your name, wanda finds your instagram. your profile picture, a professional headshot of you, and a bio that reads,

editor in chief.

New York Times contributor.

something that shouldn't have made wanda's chest burst with joy, but it does. and as she scrolls further and further, she finds that you now reside in new york city, that you've moved on well without her and that you have a cat and a boyfriend.

boyfriend.

she shouldn't care so much, but she does.

you were living your best life. the one you had always wanted.

just not with her. not with wanda.

but she doesn't stop there, and she ignores the lump in her throat as she exits your profile and searches for your mother's name.

and maybe she feels her heart break a little when it turns out the boyfriend you had is actually your fiancé. she finds out through a photo your mother posted.

the picture shows you, and a handsome man next to you. you’re both sat outside some restaurant in the city, his arm is thrown over your shoulder while your right hand clutches his left, and there it is. in all its glory—with the diamond on it catching the suns light perfectly. the ring on your finger.

it doesn’t help that he looks so in love with you.

out for lunch with y/n and paul again! i promised them an engagement lunch and we were NOT disappointed. make sure you try Jack’s Wife Freda if you are ever in SoHo!!#motherinlaw #NYC #loveinnewyork

is what the caption reads.

wanda freezes at the fact and immediately throws her phone on the empty seat beside her. she stares at it like it had just offended her.

many things go through her brain. how did you meet him? was it shortly after you broke up? was it really him you wanted to spend forever with? how long did it take for him to ask?

wanda had always loved your mother. a sweet woman who always had your best interests in mind. she had always pushed you to do what you loved. and wanda had always seen that some of her favorite traits of yours had come from her.

after the break up, your mom made sure to check in on wanda. without you ever knowing, wanda and your mom kept in touch, until eventually wanda had cut her line for the sake of fully moving on.

though, she never really fully did.

wanda evaluates what to do next. was this her sign? she doesn’t want it to be sign.

wanda doesn’t want to admit that it seems like you had moved on so completely.

on impulse she looks up your fiancé’s name. “paul” is all she had to type out in your mother’s following before she found his account.

she finds that paul is just as successful as you are. he’s an investigative journalist, born in ireland. he briefly worked at a publication in london but transferred to a firm in new york after a year.

he’s gorgeous, she thinks. he has blue eyes, a kind smile, and he has an accent. it would make perfectly good sense why you would choose him.

wanda’s stomach twists with a mix of happiness and regret.

“fuck!” She whispers to herself.

“of course, you’re happy. of course the man you’re engaged with is actually a decent man! fuck.” wanda says to no one in particular. in frustration, she burries her hands in her hair.

wanda is annoyed at herself.

“i need a drink,” in an instant she’s on her legs making her way to the kitchen. she finds a bottle of wine that has been kept cool in the fridge and she wastes no time in popping it open, she pauses briefly, debating on whether she’d need or glass or not.

to hell with a glass. she thinks, and makes her way back to the couch, she holds the bottle by its neck and takes a long swig from it.

it’s all so perfectly miserable. wanda maximoff stalking her ex-girlfriend on social media while she gets wasted. the self loathing has got the best of her. she finds it all ironic.

wanda maximoff could have anyone she wanted. she knew this. she has everything she could ever want or need. she has credibility, a nice home, the luxury of traveling at any moment she wants.

yet, her mind kept coming back to one thing. the one thing she’d decided she’d leave behind all those years ago. it isn’t fair, she thinks. wanda was young and stupid back then, but she was so so in love. she knew that for sure.

but sometimes…sometimes she really wishes she had fought harder.

briefly, wanda wonders if your number was still the same. if you had ever changed it or at least tried calling her. she wouldn’t know, she had changed it years ago once she started getting more attention for her work.

wanda was really drunk at this point. her better judgment had gone away as soon as she’d picked that bottle out the fridge. there was no better time than now.

she taps on her phone until she lands on the number keypad. her fingers hover over it, would she regret it if she didn’t? probably. would she regret it if she did? probably.

but if there was one thing wanda had, it’s that she’s got nerve and audacity.

so she types in the number that she doesn’t think she could ever forget, and lets it ring.

your fiancé answers the call.

“hello?” an irish accent sounds through the speaker. paul. wanda’s blood runs cold and she stays silent for a moment. all of sudden she feels incredibly sober and regretting making the call.

“hi.” she pauses. “uhm, i’m looking for y/n?” wanda manages to squeak out.

“right! who is this? your number isn’t saved.” paul says,

“an old friend. i changed my number a while back.” wanda replies smoothly.

“oh! let me pass her to you, she’s just in the kitchen.” the line goes quiet for a few moments, and she’s able to hear a few words exchanged between you and paul.

“hello?”

wanda freezes again, a hand covers her mouth as she tries not to shake at the sound of your voice. it’d been so long. she grips her phone tighter.

“hey…” her voice shaky and unmistakable. you know it’s wanda.

“wanda?” your voice betrayed the surprise you felt. from the couch paul caught your eye, a raised eyebrow on his face. everything okay? he mouthed.

you shook your head.

“i wondered if your number was still the same.” wanda says after a moment. her tone light, but with an undercurrent of something else.

your mind raced. why was she calling you? why now? your fiance was in the other room, you were getting married soon. you’d built a life perfectly fine without her in it. so why was she calling you now?

“how have you been?” her voice cuts through the line again. wanda holds the phone close to her ear, wanting to make sure she could hear every word you say.

and all you can think of is how confused you were.

“i- i’m fine. i’m good. yeah.”

“that’s good—”

“i’m sorry, uh…why are you calling?” you find yourself cutting her off. your fingers press against your forehead in act of trying to understand what was happening.

wanda pauses. she realizes just how impulsive this whole thing was. she’s on the phone with her ex of four years, while your fiancé was probably in the other room. she goes silent again. her words have to be carefully measured.

she gulps,

“uhm…i just—i just wanted to know how you were. heard you’re based in new york now...so…” wanda trails off. you don’t miss the tone in her voice as she says those words. the familiar rasp, the lowness of her voice, she’d used it many times on you when she wanted something.

you close your eyes with a sigh, “yeah. yeah, i live in new york now, engaged and everything.”

wanda smiles through the phone, her eyes almost prick with tears at the corners.

“i saw," she says just above a whisper. "congratulations, you…you’ve always wanted that.” and she means it. she knows better than anyone how much you’ve wanted this.

suddenly a wave of nostalgia hits you, and you’re brought back to when you were both in college. so young, so dumb, but god, it was one of the best times of your life. you try not to let it affect you, how much this call seems to be doing for you. you haven’t yet figured out if it’s a good or bad thing.

“thank you." your voice softens. "how have you been?” you find yourself asking her next.

wanda smiles at your question, “life has been…insane, you know?” she pauses on the line. “still missing some pieces, but overall i’m doing well,” you pretend not to hear the sudden shift in her voice when she said that.

you exhaled quietly, unsure of what to say. the air between you felt charged with unspoken words, old memories stirring to the surface.

“can i see you?” she asks, her tone hesitant. “catch up in person? i’d really like to see you.”

with your bottom lip between your teeth, you contemplate your next words. paul notices your tick from the other his seat on the couch, despite you telling him it was okay he couldn’t help but worry. he’d heard enough of the call to know something was wrong. still he knows you had it down, so he waits until you need him.

you struggle to find your words for a moment, the question being so…why?

“oh, wanda, i don’t know if—”

but wanda ever the stubborn woman she is, doesn’t relent.

“please. Just for some coffee and conversation.”

your mind is torn between keeping your peace or taking wanda up on her offer. but you were curious.

with a sigh you finally decide.

“where and when?”

you can hear wanda’s smile through the phone,

“i can fly to new york anytime you’re free. you can pick a spot and i’ll be there.”

you think for a few moments.

“okay, meet at caffe reggio in greenwich. i’ll be in touch with when.”

wanda’s heart stutters, something she hadn’t felt in a while. her eyes flutter closed, she breathes in— out. her eyes open again. and though you can’t see it, there’s a new look in her eyes.

“i’ll be there.”

[urfavleo777]

warnings: age gap, tattoo artist! colby x reader, alcohol

"Angel's wings!" your best friend exclaims, speaking completely seriously. Your other friend approves, clapping her hands eagerly. "Get them tattooed!"

You almost choke on your drink when you hear how seriously Katrina gives you a new idea for your first tattoo. If someone told you that friendship between three people doesn't exist, you would laugh at them. The three of you are living proof that it's not the number of people in the group that matters, but the love that exists between you. Each of you is different, but that is the most beautiful thing. There is nothing worse than boredom and monotony in friendship.

"Come on, you'll be eighteen in an hour. Do something that will make you happy, not your parents." Sophia, usually the voice of reason, tries to convince you.

You don't know if it's the alcohol you just drank, but in a split second you undergo an internal transformation. You'll be of age in an hour. No one will be able to lecture you. Even your parents who, instead of spending this birthday time with their daughter, decided to go to the mountains. At first you reacted with sadness, but over time you were glad that the situation had turned out this way because you could invite your two favorite girls over for the night.

Katrina and Sophia look at you with impatient eyes, encouraging you to make a quick decision. You take a deep breath, tilting your head back. As pathetic as it sounds, you try your hardest to get advice from the ceiling.

You look back at your waiting friends. They send drunken glances your way, which only reinforces the fact that you must probably look like one of them at this point. Sophia and Katarina's eyes widen. Something unexpected is about to happen; something that will change the course of history forever.

Katarina clenches her fists like a true boxing legend, preparing for the worst possible scenario. With each subsequent inhalation, you feel even more excitement and arousal wash over you. You open your mouth to announce the official verdict.

"If not now, never, right?"

After saying these words, you're crushed under the bodies of these two freaks. And, you swear to yourself that if your parents had been home, after all those squeals of happiness, you would have ended up under a bridge.

"The best decision you've ever made, Y/n! I'm so proud," Sophia squeals excitedly, and Katrina joins in. You realize that you still hold the glass in your hand. You hiss, knowing that you'll definitely need to change the sheets of your bed after tonight. "Don't worry about it! Let's go to the tattoo artist!"

"Now?" you keep mumbling under their bodies.

Katrina and Sophia step away from you, exchanging meaningful glances with each other. You are finally able to catch your breath, but you don't really understand what they're trying to tell you.

"Yes. Now." Sophia grins. "Katrina, are you thinking about the same person as me?"

The friend nods her head in response, also with a big grin on her face.

"Oh, yeah! The handsomest, hottest and most expensive tattoo artist in town," she starts counting and you wonder why you've never heard of him before. "Y/n, we guarantee you the best fucking fun."

"Let's fucking do this!" They both squeal, grabbing your hands and pulling you out of the bed.

***

"You guys didn't even give me a chance to change clothes!"

You are wearing a black body suit and really low rise jeans so people on the street can see a bit of skin, which makes you feel a little uncomfortable.

"You look great." Sophia assures you and Katrina nods to her. Well, they're wearing perfectly balanced sweaters compared to you. They decided to make you the main star without outshining you with clothes. You feel like standing out of the crowd, which you don't like very much.

"Do you think this tattoo artist will accept us without prior consultation?" you ask, genuinely curious. "Maybe we should call him? We'd better get back home..."

"Relax, Y/n," you turn into a street you've probably never been to. Katrina tries to convince you, but with each step you take, you become less and less sure. Even though your parents have well-paid jobs, they usually don't let you hang around the rich districts. They would be disappointed if they knew that while they were away their daughter was getting a tattoo, not really knowing where.

"You said he was an expensive tattoo artist. I don't think I want to spend money this way." You continue, feeling the alcohol drain from you. You regain consciousness and regret saying yes to your friends. "Maybe we should really turn back?"

"Y/n," you stop in front of a building emanating LED light. The girls move closer to you and one of them puts a hand on your shoulder. Sophia, the fucking voice of reason, says: 

"He is my brother's friend. They have been friends since childhood. He practiced on my brother, making the first patterns. He would never take money from me or my friends. We are always out of line. Trust me, you're in good hands."

"He was the one who gave me that big tattoo you liked so much," finishes Katrina.

You sigh, trying to convince yourself first and foremost. Sophia pulls out her phone and brings it closer to your face.

The first thing that catches your eye are the huge white numbers on the screen. What's more, they don't seem blurry at all. You must be really sober. You take a deep breath, recalling the quote of your favorite teacher in your head.

12:00. Carpe diem.

 "It's time to go fucking crazy, Y/n." 

***

"Sophia? What's for today?" It’s a male voice. Raspy, yet soft. The sound of it makes you whip your head over to your friends, but you're trying to stay calm. He lets out a heavy sigh before humming to himself in thought. Only after a while he notices that Sophia is not alone. "And who is this?"

"Hello, Colby. Meet Y/n, your new client." 

And the way he shakes your hand is firm but gentle, not as hard as you think it'd be given the size of his biceps probably are larger than your head. But then he softly grips your elbow and guides you into the chair with a hand on your back. "Don't worry, I don't bite."

"Well, I thought I would have to convince you.. longer."

You flush a little under his gaze because he's noticed how you're shaking like a leaf next to him. And the way he smiles indicates he might enjoy biting you anyways... and maybe you'd let him. 

"I was just about to close, but you know perfectly well that I will always make an exception for you, Sophia." Your friend smiles at his words.

"So, what are we doing tonight?" he focuses all his attention on you. You swallow, not really knowing what to answer. Katrina decides to save your ass from total embarrassment.

"Angel's wings." 

He looks like he's about to roll his eyes.

"Seriously, I can't count how many girls asked me for the exact same pattern. Try something more creative."

"I'd like to stick with the wings, please. In a place invisible to the eye."

"Getting a tattoo so you don't show it to anyone? How old are you anyway?"

"Eighteen." He doesn't look convinced. With one movement of your hand, you pull your ID from your back pocket. Colby, as you can guess, surprised by the concrete, grabs the ID in his hand and looks at it carefully.

"She's so young." When he talks about you in the third person, something happens to you. "Are you sure you want those fucking wings?"

"Come on, Colby. You did this to my brother many times." Sophia interjects. "Don't ruin her birthday."

"Ah, yes. Happy birthday or something." You can tell he’s in a good mood based on the playful amusement in his voice. 

"Thanks," you hang your head.

"We have to do something about her shyness." he turns to your friends.

"Maybe wings between her tits? I bet no girl has ever asked for this," suggests Katrina. You almost choke on your saliva. You want to get up from that chair and run out.

"That sounds perfect." His voice is sweet with a touch of flirtiness, and you swear you can hear the smile in it. "What do you think, Y/n?"

"There's no way I'm going to show you my tits." You take courage. Colby laughs loudly. He clearly takes pleasure in your attitude and shakes his head, leaning in to watch you.

"It's your choice." You bite at your lip instead of answering him. 

"Come on, Y/n. We won't look either." Katrina says and Sophia nods.

You've already succumbed to them once in a while. Nothing will stop you from doing it again.

The girls send you their last kisses. After a while, it's just you and your tattoo artist left in the room.

***

You're honestly glad when the uncomfortable silence is drowned out by the song "Ultraviolence" by Lana Del Rey. You asked to simply turn on the radio, but you were surprised when Colby asked you for the title. What was even weirder was when he used the fucking vinyl of one of your favorite albums instead of Spotify.

He hums to himself. "Those are nice."

You got rid of your bra. No one has ever complimented your boobs, but you smile slightly, burying your face in your hands.

He gives you a little wink before stenciling what you had in mind, his fingertips tracing the lines of the ink that leaves goosebumps across your skin.

There's a lingering feeling as he pulls his hand back. You think he's toying with you. Frightful little thing, you are and here he is wanting to play with his pretty little client. Next thing you know, his hand is around your throat.

You tense and realize that he has moved some of your hair to the other side to give more access to the space between your tits. It definitely could have been done easier and better, but the twinkle in his eyes said he did it on purpose. Oh yes, he was definitely having fun with you. The way his hand barely grazed your throat and the side of your neck before he would gently scratch your arm with his blunt nails and pull away.

He let's out a huff of quiet laughter and then gets his tools ready. "So, y/n, you have a safeword?"

And you're brought out of your thoughts about his large hands because... "Huh?"

"A safeword. It's big."

W..what's big? You can't stop your eyes from flitting down to his thighs and what may lie between them. He laughs and shifts so your eyes are instantly back up and staring at his eyes that glimmer in amusement.

"The tattoo, I mean. It's a big piece. Need to know if it'll be too much, yeah?"

[katiascraft]

“am I too much for you? maybe I’m too much for everyone” | CL16

parings: Charles Leclerc x insecure!reader

summary: you feel insecure and you’re struggling but Charles makes sure you know how important you are to the world (specially his world).

now playing: “If I weren’t me” by Katherine Li

warnings: not English native speaker could there be errors. None proofread. Talk about sadness and destructive inner talk. Insecure reader. Readers pov’s.

words: +1,5k words.

a/n: heyyyy I am back!!! I disappeared for a year 💀 consistency it’s not my thing I guess. I’m finally finishing university this year!! So I guess I’ll have more time to write. Hope you like it! First on Charles. New obsession: F1 drivers. Get ready I got plenty more on my plans :p. Remember to like or reblog! And follow me so we can be friends :3

MASTERLIST

The piano tiles made the sound of the soundtrack of my sadness in this moment. My fingers touched them softly like they were fragile - like me.

Today was a nightmare from the start. Since I woke up I had a knot in my stomach that became bigger and bigger as the time passed through my routine. Sometimes itʼs really hard for me to do daily tasks such as cleaning or even eating. And it was harder if I need to go to events or meetings.

I have episodes of deep sadness Iʼve been treating on therapy. Sometimes I just canʼt control it. Today was one of those days where black and grey took over everything I felt and did. One way I found by being suggested by my therapist was writing down every thought of pain to find kind of a relief. Today itʼs really hard. Iʼm struggling really hard.

Iʼve been alone the whole day. Charles had to go to the Ferrari factory and do his driver tasks as usual. When I woke up he was gone. And maybe that contributed even more to my desperate and pathetic situation. Though I shouldnʼt talk about it like that and be more gentle with myself. It always felt to me negativity has always been my best friend and worst enemy at the same time.

Playing piano helped me so much. Write a song about my pain. Try to give a little light to all of this mess I find myself emerged in. Itʼs really hard for me to open up and seek help when I need it. Specially when it comes to Charles. I donʼt wanna be a burden to him. And I donʼt wanna stress him out with all of my dark side. I always try to brush it off when heʼs around. Most times I just pretend Iʼm happy and everything itʼs alright. As if I wasnʼt feeling too much for him. Or too less. Like Iʼm not worth of his love. Of his attention. Of his smiles. Of everything he did for me.

The fact that Charles asked me out had me shocked. Iʼve never felt like I could compete with all the models and influencers and singers and every really beautiful girl in this world. Iʼve never felt beautiful nor attractive. Yes Iʼm pretty good making jokes. And I talk too much. But Iʼve always felt I cringed people out. Dating people wasnʼt a thing I was really good at. Actually I sucked. And I think I still do. Always overthinking and second guessing every move. Every promise. Everything.

Charles was so sweet to me. He said “youʼre beautiful. Iʼm sure people tell you all the time. But you really areˮ. I couldnʼt help but get really nervous and blush. The most beautiful man Iʼve ever seen was talking to me and saying all of that. I blinked a couple of times. My smile huge. I just laughed softly trying to brush it off.

Since then we became a team. Inseparable. Charles became my best friend. My rock. I donʼt know what I ever did to deserve his love. The way he loved me was so gentle. So caring and loving. At first was hard because his love language was physical touch and that was something I wasnʼt used to. But little by little I got used to and felt amazing. Iʼve never felt so comfortable with anyone but him.

I hate my body. I feel ashamed of my personality. Most times I feel so dumb. So stupid.

I didnʼt realized I was already crying when I felt my tears dropping in my hands on the piano. I didnʼt realized I kept playing in auto-mode. When I was conscious again I started crying badly. I started shaking. I felt so bad. So guilty for even feeling this way. I didnʼt realized Charles have arrived home when I felt his deep voice from behind.

“Baby... whatʼs wrong? Youʼve been crying for a whileˮ I heard his voice and that sent shivers down my spine. I try to hold it together because I feel so embarrassed heʼs seeing me like this.

He sat next to me and hugged me. I hid my face on his neck feeling contempt. Thing is I started crying worse. I couldnʼt control it once it took on me.

“Itʼs okay baby. Itʼs okay.ˮ He whispered on my head while he stroke my hair and my arm pulling me closer. I thanked him mentally for this. I never thought I needed it so much.

Took a while until I calmed myself in his body. I part from him slowly and whipped my face with my hands. After I did he did the same. He whipped my tears so gently. He did the same looking me with bright eyes. Worry was all over his face. I licked my lips. “Iʼm sorry.ˮ I said quietly almost a whisper.

He denided with his head taking my head into his hands and stroked it softly.

“donʼt be sorry baby. Iʼm worried. Whatʼs wrong? Iʼm sorry I wasnʼt home to be with you. Why didnʼt you called me?ˮ I could feel the worry in his voice deep and cracking.

“I didnʼt want to bother to be honest. Itʼs one of those days. A really hard dayˮ my tears wanted to go out again but I holded them.

I saw his eyes turned into a sad look. He leaned on me and kissed my cheek to hugged me strongly in his arms afterwards. I buried my head in his shoulder. His smell calmed me down. I holded him pretty close to me. Strongly as him. I didnʼt want to let go.

“do you wanna talk about what you are feeling love?ˮ He whispered softly. I swallowed hard and pulled away from his so I could look into his beautiful eyes. I loved his eyes. So bright so blue sometimes. To me they felt like staring at the ocean. I stroked his face gently. He grabbed my legs on the little couch in front of the piano it our living room.

“This is one of those days where I donʼt feel enough or maybe too much to handle... all of this darkness in me that sometimes I just canʼt control it. You deserve someone confident and happy just like youˮ I told him softly and honestly. And it felt good to take it out of me for finally. I wanted to cry again but I was making my best efforts to keep it together.

“Cher... you are more than enough for me. You are the most beautiful soul Iʼve ever met. The most beautiful woman Iʼve ever seen. You are the sweetest most caring and fun person. Always there for people. You have the brightest personality. Every time you enter a room you shine. Everyone smiles. To me youʼre happiness though I know that isnʼt the whole you. Youʼre human baby. You are allowed to feel. And to not be okay. And to be okay too. You are not a burden for me. Youʼre my best friend. Mon amour. My future wife. The one whoʼs always there for me. My shoulder to cry on. The one with the greatest jokes. The life of every party I assist. You give a meaning to my life. A reason to live. You are a great daughter. The best friend someone could ask for. The greatest sister. You are a light for every single person that knows you y/n. Donʼt ever feel that you are too much to handle. And I really wanna go and kill the people who made you ever feel you were, I sware. You are amazing baby.ˮ While he was talking you couldnʼt hold it together. You just started crying. He let you do it while he whipped your tears lovingly. He seeing you like this broke his heart. You didnʼt deserve to feel like this. And he wished he could take away all of your pain. That you could see yourself the way he sees you. And feel how happy and enamoured you made him feel. “You can talk to me every time you need itˮ he continued. “you can trust me and we can figure it out together. You donʼt have to go through it alone. Okay? I love you with everything I am y/n. If I could I would take all of this pain away and just make you feel how I feel about you. I promise to me youʼre even better than Carlosˮ he said lastly jokingly making me laugh through my crying.

Now he had a huge smile on his face knowing he could make you feel better. I gave him a peck on his lips as a thank you and as an I love you.

“I donʼt know what I would do without you Charles...ˮ I said sincerely and full of love in between the lines. He gave another kiss back but now it was deeper in feelings. We kissed for a while and it felt that as the kiss continued my pain was going away feeling better every second. After the kissed I hugged him tightly. He gave kisses to my neck making me giggle a little. “I love you Charlie. Youʼre my angelˮ I whispered on his shoulder and he tightened the hug in response.

“And you are mine chérie“ he said burying his face on my shoulder.

——————————————————————————————

Charlie won COTA 🥹.

Hope you liked it 💌 if you have ideas my inbox is open for requests!

[winwin17]

I want to talk about a particular shining moment Legolas has that never gets talked about

In The Return of the King, Legolas and Gimli briefly reunite with Pippin and Merry when Merry is recovering at the Houses of Healing. During their discourse, the Hobbits asked Legolas and Gimli to tell what they'd been doing since they'd last seen each other, and Gimli goes on to tell about how the Paths of the Dead scared him out of all pride and senses. He says he was held to that road only by the will of Aragorn.

But Legolas points out, "And by the love of him also, for all those who come to know him come to love him after their own fashion."

And here's the part that really stands out to me.

Legolas continues:

"All those who come to know him come to love him after their own fashion - even the cold maiden of the Rohirrim.

"It was at early morning of the day ere you came there, Merry, that we left Dunharrow, and such a fear was on all the folks that none would look on our going, save the Lady Éowyn, who lies now hurt in the House below. There was grief at that parting, and I was grieved to behold it."

The narrative notes earlier, when the event he is describing takes place, that only people like Legolas and Gimli, who were close to Aragorn, could see how much the interaction pained their leader. It's always evident that Aragorn felt compassion for Éowyn. But here, Legolas notes that he, too, was grieved at the parting.

There was no reason Legolas had to have compassion for Éowyn. She was none of his kin. He had little to no reason to be personally invested in Rohan. He wasn't the one who had to reject her pleas and turn down her love. He could've sat there watching and thinking, "Man, this is super cringe, when can we get out of here and get this crazy woman out of our hair?" Even Gimli admitted that he was too busy freaking out about the Paths of the Dead business to notice.

But Legolas noticed, and his heart cared even though he didn't have to. What was this woman to him, but another of the race of Men, just another human being who would be here and gone in what amounted to almost nothing of the Elven lifespan.

Yes, he felt for Aragorn and the pain this interaction brought him. But I think he was grieved for Éowyn, too. Because that's the kind of person Legolas is. He's not so lofty and arrogant about his race that he can't invest in the quest of rustic Hobbits, or befriend a Dwarf, or fight for the race of Men, or hold out for years against his own innate sea-longing to help build Aragorn's kingdom. And it's that same heart that was moved to see Éowyn so sad and lost and rejected. His Elven mind could've been wandering off to Battle or some beautiful Elven land during that interaction between Aragorn and Éowyn, but instead, he was present, and he noticed, and he cared.

Even after the fact, Legolas could totally have chosen to confide in his Hobbit friends about how pathetic Éowyn was with her unrequited love and her passion to follow Aragorn.

But he didn't say that. He didn't paint her in a negative light. He didn't say, "Crazy women, amirite?" No, he revealed a heart just as caring and compassionate as Aragorn's himself, and he said, "I was grieved to behold it "

People, this is one of the most underrated Legolas moments, and yet it's this small glimpse into his inner heart that makes me admire him the most.

[stump-not-found]

you mentioned once before how you think ford makes bill worse... do you mind explaing how/genq (this is NOT an attack in any form or way! youer characterisations of bill and ford have been ON POINT every chapter that gets realsed and every comic you draw... im really curious as to how ford makes bill worse to understand it too)

i unfortunately do not remember saying this ! i say a lot of things with my mouth

i do think those two are like an emotional feedback loop . kind of got crabs in a bucket vibes, if the crabs were stabbing each other, and the bucket was also stabbing the crabs . at first it was fun but then one crab said "i don't want to stab anymore" and the other one went "FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU" . like you do . im prolly gonna ramble a bit so shoving it under the readmore lol

hrmmm if i had to guess it's probably just the fact that ford is not a great dude . and he genuinely just likes bill's attitude and behaviors, even the nasty stuff . because it's really gratifying to be around someone who sees your hard edges, and instead of being repelled by that they're like . fuck yeah . then you both just feed into that infinitely and giggle for ever lalala . it's not even like ford broke the cycle willingly he just got his feelings hurt about bill lying and bill decided to blow his entire shit up because he's just a sad, pathetic coward . will do anything to protect his stupid ego even if it means ruining everything all the time constantly . sure you could have gotten everything u ever wanted but that would have required you looking even a lil vulnerable so honestly man you honestly should just blow up your office building tbqh

also i genuinely don't know that bill has had many people in his life that actually like him so i gotta believe ford was like the worst drug known to man: validation

all this being said i'm not really someone who likes to think of any one person as like . bad or evil . it's reductive and boring, for both bill and ford . bill's definitely worse but he's also not human ?? not that that really matters because humans do some incredibly heinous shit . there's not a one-sized-fits-all moral answer here . also bill's just silly he's just a silly guy

so yah if ford makes bill worse its probably just that he's the one guy who's gonna hear bill say "just don't call me late for dinner" and actually laugh for real at that joke . and then also goes into a whole worship kink which i cannot imagine helped the bill situation at all . like idk what i would do if i met the literal smartest guy in the world & he built me a basement shrine with little to no prompting just because i gave him an epic blowjob . i think i would also go insane

well actually no i would hate that . personally . but i'm not a triangle . maybe being a triangle makes that like . normal and fun who knows

[rpfofficial]

can i be so so so ernst for a second. and by a second i mean a really long ranty post. but it pisses me off how many people characterise edward little as incompetent or useless or something along those lines because i think that reading misunderstands him entirely . like he is actually good at his job. he's competent in his role as first lieutenant to the extent that he can do what the job would Normally require of him, and do it well. obviously he doesn't function under the dire intense conditions of the show because who would, he's never done this shit before, he's second in command to a depressed alcoholic who takes at least 2 months to get his shit together, he's sworn to secrecy about said depression and alcoholism, he's had loyalty to his captain and adherence to the system and hierarchy deeply engrained in him because ofcourse he has, every navy personnel on that expedition has, and the workplace environment is DIABOLICAL aboard those ships and he is so eager to do well and so eager to please and so devoted to crozier that he operates on 90% anxiety & stress and 10% willpower. The fact that he fumbles at terror camp when the mutiny starts is not because he's incompetent, that is literally the worst situation to be in when you have just been thrust into a command position WHICH HE WASNT EVEN SUPPOSED TO BE IN because fitzjames is THERE but he's too busy being a christ figure in his tent to pay attention to what is happening and little is doing his best. he doesn't have the knowledge and experience crozier has, sure, but in his defense crozier did not leave him well equipped and is frankly putting far too much pressure on him at literally every turn! edward little is not useless, he's overworked and underappreciated and he's literally sad all the time can you please cut him some slack. you can see in subtle moments where he does take charge that he's good, he's good at this, he's amiable and considerate and efficient. he follows orders well, and maybe that's his downfall, he's too good at following orders. when he finally steps up to the mantle and takes charge and has the confidence to make a decision in authority, the rest of the men have already made a decision without him, and that's not his fault is it!!!!!! by all means edward little is pathetic, a people pleaser, has little to no self confidence and is overall a wet cat of a human being but i will not stand by and see people call him incompetent and useless, that's what francis crozier wants you to believe and do you really want to take a page out of crozier's book on how to treat edward little? No you don't

[mariacallous]

The problem with judging people for their sins is that the internet makes it exceedingly easy to invent sins. In February, Buzzfeed News reported on a man filmed by a passing TikTokker, who then uploaded the footage with text suggesting he’d lied to her to get out of a date. That was false—he’d never met her—but it didn’t stop people from ridiculing him as the video racked up over a million views.

Similarly, last year, an Australian woman objected to being made the star of a stunt in which a TikTokker asked her to hold a bouquet, strolled off, and then congratulated himself on performing a random act of kindness. Sixty million hits later, his viewers were praising him for brightening the day of a woman they judged to be old, lonely, and sad. But she objected to that characterization and declared the whole affair “dehumanizing.” She hadn’t asked to have her day interrupted, let alone be thrust into a global spotlight.

And then there are those incapable of even grasping the situation. In 2022, a TikTok channel was called out for surreptitiously filming the homeless with drones. Loved ones with dementia are put on TikTok to be infantilized or have their worst moments gawked at. Parents transform their children into viral stars. Sometimes, those children grow up and call them out for warping their youth.

When people tell us it was harrowing and wrong to be unwillingly cast into the spotlight, we nod and agree. But those responsible typically offer only half-hearted apologies or remain unrepentant, while their millions of views discourage reflection. Often, moral scolding is implicit in the video and explicit in the comments: It is wrong to be homeless. It is gross to be ill. It is pathetic to be unhappy.

To be sure, crass and hateful public figures are worthy of ridicule. And we’ve been using the internet to judge strangers for as long as we’ve had the internet. But the common trait shared by much of the most obnoxious content today is that someone chose to elevate a stranger for no reason beyond their own gratification, attracting attention at a scale unimaginable in the days of relics like Hot or Not and People of Wal-Mart.

At best, these are misguided attempts to juice the poster’s social media presence. At worst, they are pointless cruelty. That cruelty can be addictive, but we can and must resist the urge to gawk at strangers against their will. It should, in fact, be considered rude, insulting, and wrong to have uploaded a stranger against their will. We would not go out into the streets and stir up a mob against a random person. Why are we so comfortable with doing it online?

Much of what we post online is innocent and will remain so. The average Facebook user has 338 friends, while the average number of Instagram followers, according to one estimate, is just 150. You likely use these platforms to follow celebrities and brands, and to interact with friends and family. These are, for most users, insular communities. Vacation photos with friends or a family portrait at Christmas are unlikely to attract trolls and creeps, and even if they do, they are clearly posted in good faith.

But some platforms, like TikTok and Twitter, are more exposed to the vagaries and cruelties of the wider world. Anything you post on them can wind up in the feed of people who don't follow you. Therefore, anyone can become the day’s punching bag. Does your relative really understand what could happen if you put your interaction with them on TikTok?

Maybe you know better than to post Grandpa on Twitter without thinking it through. We know whether our friends and family like attention and whether they understand social media ecosystems, and with this knowledge we are capable of making informed decisions as to whether and on what platforms we should post them. We do not have the same knowledge of strangers. That can be a reason to not post them, but it can also be an excuse to post them without thinking.

If it came out that an influencer uploaded an interaction with a stranger to a private Facebook page or Discord server solely so their closest friends and family could pick them apart, it would rightly be considered misanthropic. And yet uploading a stranger so millions can mock and over-analyze them is just the business of content. That business needs to change.

It’s exceedingly unlikely we’ll ever eliminate jackassery from the internet, but a social media mishap involving a friend or family member can be resolved with communication.

It is harder for a complete stranger to succeed in that endeavor, especially when “Look at this weirdo I found, please gape at them” is the text or subtext of so many videos and posts by accounts that thrive on content starring the unwilling. Such content must become anathema. Particular thought must be taken before posting an interaction with a stranger, and the consent of a stranger to be posted at all is necessary to retain an internet that is even remotely civil. If someone does post a stranger without their consent, they should be shunned, not rewarded with the attention they crave.

The vast majority of disputes with unruly neighbors are solved by talking to them. Ideally, the law only gets involved when lines of communication break down. The same can be true of digital disputes.

We have privacy laws. If I were to post your name, address, and phone number, you would have legal recourse. And yet the same is not true for your image. Today, at least, you surrender your right to privacy by stepping into public. But outdated privacy laws are catching up to the abuses of government and tech, and the issues raised by social media virality could be next.

Still, a blanket law against posting strangers without their consent would be draconian and unworkable. There are too many variables, too many circumstances, and simply too many cases. However, whole generations who have been online since birth—sometimes unwillingly—could grow up to be more sensitive to the downsides of posting without permission, prompting a normative shift.

More specific laws are already evolving to handle some scenarios raised by nonconsensual virality, specifically as it applies to children. Irina Raicu of Santa Clara University’s Internet Ethics Program points out that a recent French law entitles child influencers to demand that platforms scrub all trace of them once they turn 16. The YouTube career their parents create for them—or force on them—need not be what defines them as adults. The United States is considering a similar law; a woman who testified to a House committee said the details of her first period were turned into content.

Another law being considered in France would make parents responsible for their children’s privacy rights. Le Monde cites, as an example of fame-seeking behavior that France is hoping to discourage, TikTokkers scaring their children by pretending to call the police on them, and an Instagrammer who smeared chocolate on her 4-year-old and convinced them they were covered in feces. We will eventually wonder how parents were able to get away with this at all.

So those who cannot consent are starting to be protected. But what about those who could consent, but don’t? And what if, as some unwillingly viral subjects have found, reaching out and asking for posts to be removed is met with silence or rejection?

In reality we already practice social media consent; it is not unusual to ask a friend if they’re alright with having a picture posted to Instagram, even though the face they make as they try to cram an unusually large sandwich into their mouth is not a flattering one. And yet we continually fail to extend this courtesy to strangers, either because we think nothing of it or because it is our job to go viral at all costs.

Some of this, as Raicu points out, can be blamed on the platforms we use, which encourage hair triggers. “There are ways in which the design choices behind many websites make it harder for all of us to think about consent,” Raicu wrote in an email. She points to the sheer ease of posting and the fact that norms around social media consent have not solidified. But she notes that platforms could “introduce some friction” in the form of, essentially, reminders that other people are human before you hit Post.

Future platforms could work to curtail shaming, either out of moral compulsion or legal necessity. Much as you can report harassment to social media platforms, posts that have elevated you to infamy against your will should be fair targets.

Lines have been drawn before. YouTube banned dangerous pranks and challenges after people were hurt and complaints mounted. TikTok is trying to tweak its algorithm in response to growing concerns that young users are awash in content encouraging suicide and incel ideology. Content made from those unable or unwilling to consent is a broad category that cannot be wiped out with algorithmic tweaks, but the damage is still happening, and we have the power to collectively declare that some forms of content are unacceptable and must no longer be tolerated.

Perhaps, given the increasing universality of social media usage—83 percent of Gen Z uses TikTok—platform-embedded tools could establish consent. Before posting a video of someone, an influencer could ask their username and send them a simple, stock contract granting them permission to post. Again, this need not apply to every random photo of friends. It could be optional, or it might apply only when an account reaches a certain threshold of followers. But a lack of permission could give a user cause when they cite unwanted virality and negative attention when asking for a post to be removed.

But most of the work will fall to people. It's difficult enough to remember that the man being a bit rude in the grocery store line is a fallible human being with hopes and dreams; it can be almost impossible to remind yourself of that when viewing a contextless clip of someone halfway across the hemisphere. The internet is capable of connecting us to tremendous numbers of people, even as it makes us forget that they are human like us.

An influencer comfortable with filming themselves for thousands of viewers should be comfortable with approaching a stranger and saying, “Would you mind appearing in a video I’m making? I’m going to post it on this platform, and I have this many followers. Take a minute to check me out.” Some already do, and surely there are people who would be happy to receive a free bouquet in exchange for appearing in a TikTokker’s silly stunt. But a no should be taken as a no, just as it should in any other scenario involving consent.

It’s all too easy to skip this step today. People who speak out when they feel harmed by what an influencer did with their image receive only a tiny fraction of the attention that the original posts featuring them got. But when an influencer is repeatedly called out for exploiting strangers—or when their exploitation is obvious, such as when they prey on the homeless—they should be frozen out of the social media ecosystem, not rewarded with attention and profit.

In the future, how will we be able to see such casual cruelty as anything but unethical? Maybe stories of regret are a sign of what’s to come. Brianna Wu, one of the victims of GamerGate, says she has fielded over 100 apologies, often from people who were at their lowest and saw her as an easy outlet for their emotions. But we generally don’t take our frustrations out on people on the street; understanding that people deserve to be protected from unsolicited online fame and malice is the next logical step.

We no longer parade people through villages on a cart or lock them in pillories in the town square to shame them, as was done in centuries past. We did not stop enforcing laws and norms, but we recognized that humiliation and ostracization are harsh, counterproductive tools. Eventually, we will make that realization about the strangers we parade across the internet.

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

YAY I can bother you again! \:D/ /jk

Anyways I consider asking my favorite writers stuff as my therapy, so here I go. (Sorry if this is sudden or traumatizing)

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

I feel so bad for saying this but I'm most attracted to any batfam member (adult obvi) when they are at their worst, Bruce and his pathetic angsty ass literally all the time? Let's make a Robin.

Angry Dick with a cheerful facade trying to just be Bruce's equal? Bra is unclipped.

Post pit Jason so angry and mercilless feeling betrayed (any iteration but mostly Arkahm knight) and vengful? Baby I'm yours.

Fanon Tim who is sleep deprived and stalkerish? I'll strip in front of any security camara in Gotham.

Stephanie feeling she needs to prove herself? Please let me top you.

Insecure about his powers Duke? Sudenly I'm a physical meta expert, please show me those abs.

Cassandra thinking she is only capable of damaging? Honey put your hands on me, I assure you it will be anything but unpleasant.

Damian after "accidentally" killing Dick? Hello my name is beloved!

Don't feel bad about it!! I'm just the same and there's nothing wrong with us!!!!!!!!!!

I mean, pathetic wet cats who would just curl in my lap and rant or cry while I indulge them and they become dependent on me and only me??

Battinson is my favorite Batman from the movies bc hello???? I mean I get it why people liked Bale but like???? A guy who's been traumatized for 20 years and got to the point of making an armour to fight against criminals unrelated to the ones that took his parents bc he got so sad that he reflected enough that he came to the conclusion that no one should ever feel like he did, and he would use his entire life to stop crime because people deserved better, even the worst criminals shouldn't die bc they can change or other people might be miserable if they miss him?? And he's ready to die for that!! He doesn't care!! And then he becomes a parent but he sucks at parenting bc he loves them but he never learned how to love?? BABY I CAN TEACH YOU

Jason at under the red hood or as Arkham Knight??? YOU CAN KEEP KILLING PEOPLE IF THAT'LL MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER BABE, especially if you keep me around bc we dated before you died/got tortured for months/years, kidnap me, love me, make me yours, I don't think killing your pops is gonna help you feel better, but no nagging will come from me I SWEAR

Fanom Tim being so neglected by his parents that he doesn't think his physical and psychological suffering is important, the fact that he obsessed over his childhood heroes, putting himself in danger, practically deciding that he was going to help them, not bc "I wanna be a hero and I can so I should be" but bc "I don't have much to lose, we all need you, and I want to help you, bc you're all I have!!!" and caring so much that he tries to clone his bff when he dies, and almost dies just to bring his dad and hero back, bc he cares about others more than he cares about himself??? Baby I'm right here!!!!

ANY Damian angst, Damian sad over Dick, over Bruce, over Talia, all while pretending he's just angry, I love him!! Damian that just wants to make them proud!! Damian that wants to be good!! To be on their level!! To be powerful!! To be good enough!! I love love love him!!! I'm with you no matter if you're a hero, a villain, or an antihero!! Damian Wayne, you will always be famous.

Dick swallowing his traumas, his emotions, breaking down at any opportunity, feeling responsible for everyone and destroying himself bc of it!! His relationship with Bruce never being quite the same after he became Nightwing, but they still know, deep inside, that they would come running if the other asked for help, but they never do. And Dick sometimes doesn't even know if Bruce sees him as his son!! And he's sad bc of it, but he can't show it bc how do you tell someone that?!?!?!

Steph thinking she's never gonna be enough, that she needs to prove herself, when this feeling never goes away, bc it's more about you than others? YES YES YES

Cassie!! Don't feel guilty about your past babygirl!!! It wasn't your fault!! You're just a victim!! They even took your voice from you!! Come spoon me and you'll feel better!!!

You're perfect Duke!! You're amazing and cool and handsome and there's nothing wrong with you!! You have the most awsesome powers ever!! Now come here let me look into those brown eyes and lets make out.

Seeing characters that are just so unreal but we can relato to, watch them suffer, feel joy in it!! I'm just like you and you're just like me! Be mine!!

This is about DC, but I'm an invincible, the boys and Marvel fan too. I'm drooling seeing Invincible and Rex Splode at their most toxic or weak moments! I love seeing homelander, soldier boy and the deep being so pathetic that they HAVE TO make it everyone's problem!! On my Winter Soldier brain rot I was constantly going over and over again on the same scenes watching this man be sad and miserable and covered in blood and not having autonomy of his own body and being alone!! Of course I got sad, but we can be sad together!!

Anyway, I love receiving fun and easy asks like that (I'm unreasonably happy that you called me one of your favs), I closed the asks bc I was just feeling I little overwhelmed with anxiety, college, future and the amount of requests I was receiving even if I knew I didn't have to write every fanfic idea people sent me and can just write what inspires me in the moment, be it something people asked, or some inspiration that came for me from another place

[worstgenerationloser]

,, Original sin. ''

Summary... Once a human woman turned into a vampire by Dracule Mihawk, your anger towards him turned you into a raging tyrant. With your reign abruptly ended by a stab in the back, you barely manage to crawl to the catacombs and into your coffin. You wake up remembering all, and you seek out sustenance... which, is blood.

Impending bite... Nico Robin.

Word count... 5.6k

Fic Masterlist... click here!

A/N: comments and reblogs are appreciated the very most! tell me which part was the best, or what you're looking forward to in the story! YOU MIGHT BE DISSAPOINTED ROBIN IS FIRST UP but me personally? im from scissor city.

One step after another, your feet guided you slowly throughout the halls in a calculated waltz. Living in a recently established castle surrounded by nothing but lake and the sea of bones of past victims, you came to realize the fog outdoors was normal, as were the bumbling acolytes dancing throughout the halls in a rush to wherever it is they go, stopping to bow politely for you.

Everything under the blood-soaked moon was yours. Eternal life, devout followers, an endless supply of blood in the nearby empire, and most important of all is the fact you wiped out that pesky family of vampire hunters. Once a newly deceased woman, you sobbed and wallowed in misery at the realization that even though you lived on, it was as one of the undead; Then the sorrow was replaced by the thrill of power. You must’ve gained a god complex, though at the time that wasn’t exactly terrible, all constantly failed to surprise you, and it kept your mind at ease knowing you were in no danger whatsoever.

Mistress of the dark, that you were, a cruel one you may have been, but you were unmatched by all. Once again, you were entirely superior. It was out of the goodness in your heart that you shared a glimpse of a long and luxurious life with those who were known as your acolytes and for that, they sent you offerings, they hunted your prey themselves because the poor things absolutely couldn’t handle a sad, short, pathetic human life. Ah, you seem to have reminisced quite a bit about yourself. No need for embarrassment, the peak of what was once a human is you after all, that does give you the right to brag. But you suppose you aren’t a human at this point in time, you are beyond what one’s fragile mind can understand about the unknown and the supernatural. 

“My beloved mistress, am I worthy of a speck of your time today?”  A formal and feminine voice spoke, you registered Ophelia as the woman choosing to converse with you. Time was of the essence in your day, for the night is never eternal, and you were making sure to reiterate those words to her as well.

“It is of the essence, so foolishly standing around awaiting one’s answer will be for naught. Speak, girl.” You spoke with a tone as commanding and biting as ever, the same used towards even the most noble of people, you condescend her entire being with a few words and only the choice to simply endure it was presented to her. It wasn't your fault she was so insignificant, despite being blessed enough to join your council of advisors.

Safe to say, it’s evident you had a very backwards way of thinking. It was as if you were the only true one in the world at the time, and that thought alone allowed you to think it right to do whatever to whomever. Maybe it was something hiding within you that prompted you to think in such a way… It had been so long, however, that you had nearly forgotten the fangs which had sunken into your neck, the cold hands that gripped your body, the burning sensation which coursed through your veins and stopped your beating human heart, the humanity slipping away while something more sinister took place. There was new blood in your veins— and it was his.

Those yellow eyes that never seemed to miss a single thing, like a hawk. The man who made you turn.

Dracule Mihawk.

Though your dead body is already cold as ice, you can’t help but feel a chill run throughout your body as you remember that man. Here you lie, tucked away in your coffin deep underground your castle, residual anger taking place in your mind and forcing you to awaken. All that is visible is the underside of the cushioned lid placed atop you, and though you feel weaker now than you were as a human all those years ago, you push it off, flinching at the noise of it clanging against the floor after many years of complete silence.

Slowly rising, it was as if you were learning how to walk again, your thighs shook while your knees wished to give out on you, and your arms were shaky while you tried your best to sit upwards. A primal hunger was present in your entire being, and the bats flying about certainly wouldn’t do, as you know, blood tastes best the larger and more sentient ones victim is.

“Ah, these statues must be a thousand years old at the very least! What a wonderful find.”

A voice echoes through the dusty walls and hallways which confined you, the clacking of shoes against the stone floors coming closer. You are weak, you need to eat something, and it looks like whoever this young woman is will have to do. Silencing your soft grunts, you dragged your bare feet against the floor, dust and dirt being kicked up and flung about into the air. Would you be able to pull off spontaneous feeding in a weakened state like so? Again, it’s not like you have a choice. She’s closer, you can hear her exasperated breathing.

“Everything’s in such perfect condition… What a find.” You hear the woman chuckle. Maybe you should make the first move.

“Hello? W–Who’s there?” Barely managing a stutter, your voice sounds a bit worried and panicked, just enough to convince anyone clueless and naive enough that it's genuine. Considering the way she was appraising your decorations, you’ve concluded quite a bit of time has passed, and she must have a knack for identifying things of old and exploring– either both or one or the other. The sounds of walking stills, before continuing, a bit more hesitant. A hum reverberates throughout the room, light approaching at the same pace and there she is. A raven-haired beauty, one with eyes of ocean blue and a long slender nose, paired with a silver dagger. Fuck. If you were to try and pounce on her, she has the upper hand, you really can’t do anything in such a state, so you only have one more card to play, innocent and lost.

“May I ask who you are, miss? It’s odd to encounter someone in century-old ruins.” Her eyes are narrowed, and she’s clearly suspicious of you. Her grip on the dagger is evidently growing tighter.

“I apologize, I’m from a rural area… Eh, I seem to have gotten lost exploring and… Well, it’s really embarrassing for me to admit, and I’ve been underground here for a bit.” Without rambling on and omitting too much, you seem to have put the woman’s mind at ease if just a bit. You take in the little information you gained– century old ruins are what she called your hidden chambers, normally you would have taken offense but you are a changed woman now. Does this count as a second re-awakening?

“You will be reawakened wholly…” The memory of that man’s words echo through your head, making you swallow harshly. It’s frightening all over again. Nope, absolutely no second re-awakening.

“I see… Do you also have an interest in archaeology and history? I came to consider the legend of the last vampire, oddly enough all history of such a person seems to have decayed, besides this castle… Someone covered it up, for sure, but I can’t seem to figure out why… Perhaps another vampire? An accomplice, but a vampire specifically working with another seems most likely. There were a few scriptures scattered and—” The woman keeps talking for a while, and it makes you even less interested in yourself, at one point you seem to tune it out. But, you watch as she hides her dagger away in its sheath, her hand still holding onto the handle.

She clears her throat, snapping you out of your trance.

“I’m Nico Robin, an archaeologist. You are?” Robin finally formally introduces herself, seeming a bit more friendly and under the impression that you actually listened to her theories and minute long rant. Actually, you managed to listen to about half of it, so all's well that ends well– this has yet to end though. One last look at the scattered bones across the dusted cobblestone floor and you speak up again, finally introducing yourself.

“Ah, that's quite a unique name. So, would you like some shoes?” For a moment you choke and sputter, looking down at your bare feet. You haven’t been embarrassed in centuries, and the feeling is entirely unwelcome. She’s probably super suspicious of you now, and if not then she’s really pitying you.

“Yes, please. My feet are sore from walking aimlessly.” You joke softly, laughing humorlessly while her face stays blank. After setting down her oil lamp, Robin takes off the backpack slung around one of her shoulders, rummaging around and pulling out a pair of black leather boots, placing them into your hands. You drop them to the floor, trying your best to clear your cold feet from dirt and grime, before haphazardly slipping them on. There's strings attached to them, and they are loose around your ankles, it seems like a stupid design and it makes you wonder what other useless inventions were made.

“Do you not know how to tie your laces, miss?” Laces? What on earth was she talking about? The boots were made of leather, and there wasn't even a single clipping of lace adorning them. Is this some modern day slang the young women use?

“Uh… I guess not. I am barefoot more often than not.” Your voice is a murmur, it isn't entirely a lie, but you are much more used to shoes without these… stringy contraptions strewn across their surface. Maybe you made yourself look suspicious by not knowing how to “tie your laces” but if this is fashion these days, maybe it's not so bad if you’re eternally slain by her.

“Allow me, then. You seem sickly, I think maybe I should show you the way out.”

She drops to her knees before you, it reminds you of when you received voluntary blood offerings… Blood. You will only get weaker from here on out if you don't feed soon, and this Robin woman seems to be a good candidate, all you need to do is win her over and earn her trust, disarm her and feed off of her… but she has shown you a bit of kindness, so it wouldn't do too much harm to loosen up a bit. But you can't allow yourself to rely on someone so much again, remembering Ophelia's actions was disheartening— you can't allow yourself to be fooled once more by somebody else, much less a pathetic excuse of a human as she was. And you can't let what happened with that man repeat. 

Maybe you should forget about Mihawk for a second considering that just mentioning his name to yourself alone makes you feel as if he's already watching you. A cold hand comes to accidentally touch near the bottom of your calf, and time seems to still for a second. Are you…? No, this just cannot be. It’s pathetic, but you seem to feel a bit tingly against the touch of another. Exactly how far has oneself fallen? From making people crumble from the scrape of your fangs against their veins, to crumbling against a cold and accidental touch. Embarrassment takes over once again, and your lungs start to withhold air from you in an attempt to take your mind off of it. Robin is still tying your “laces” , which you can easily assume are the strings attached to the pair of leather boots she has given you. The foolish observation from earlier is still fresh in your mind. How utterly embarrassing for someone of your caliber.

“I’ve finished tying them. Now, would you like some help getting out? You mentioned that you have been down under for quite some time. I know the way out, but we will have to go through the castle to get aboveground. I assume you’ve entered from the underground tunnels in the forest, but the moon has risen… best to steer clear of there. I’m sure you know why.”

It’s definitely not thrilling hearing someone explain to you how to get out of the catacombs you asked to be implemented under your own castle, but you know you should try not to arouse suspicions too early into your first meeting with a scholar— specifically this one. She came armed to a vampire's castle with a dagger of silver, a known weakness of your kind.

“The wolves.” You nod, trying to hide the scowl peeking onto your face. Werewolves, the scum of the earth. Though, you would argue that you hate Emperor Romanov from your time the most. It's hypocrisy at its finest coming from you, but you hate people who try to stand above all else and crumble whomever beneath their soles. Maybe Ophelia knocked some sense into you when she drove that fine elven blade of silver into your heart, or maybe you have always known you were a bit of a tyrant.

“Let's go, then.” Robin spoke, prompting you to join her, you can't help but notice the appeal in her smile, the way she struts about with utmost confidence, the dip in her back, the curve of her hips, the smirk on her lips— though, you, of course, would never ogle a woman in such a manner. It's just that it's been a while since you've been awake, and she's easy on the eyes, why on earth would you think like a man? She bends down to pick up the oil lamp she brought with her, and your eyes are still drawn to her.

It's simply your appetite talking, of course. You two head down throughout the dusty and spider infested halls, the clacking of both of your shoes is a tad bothersome.

“Miss Y/N. How did you come to know of this place?” Robin begins to question, her tone non-accusatory. She looks back at you with a curious look, in fact.

“I’ve always been fascinated by the supernatural…  And I get a thrill out of exploring. I scout out places occasionally, and I sometimes find small artifacts.”

Ah yes, building onto your small storyline once more, would this classify as roleplay? Softening your voice, you reach into your pocket— if you can begin to have her let her guard down by showing a bit of “proof” you are in fact an explorer, then it would likely make it easier to feed off of her. It wasn't like you could avoid her anyways, if she knew you were a vampire, she could do a lot worse than be horrified. You pull out an old stopwatch of yours, a century or two old, that makes it around two to three centuries old in total. Surely if this woman truly has an eye for antiques, she would appreciate such an item.

“I found this on my way in. It's certainly splendid.” You put on a smile, walking a bit faster to catch up, holding out the stopwatch in the palm of your hand. Robin pauses and gasps as her eyes widen, her hand comes to brush against yours, her manicured fingers are cold as she takes the watch from your hands.

Suspended in the air by its chain, the dim source of light gleams off of the metallic surface, and it makes you just a little uneasy looking at the watch. It’s like there is something buried deep inside your psyche that just refuses to come back despite the fact that you have impeccable memory, almost as if your body knows you aren’t ready. The watch was yours, but you can’t seem to recall who gave it to you… 

 “Does the air here seem a tad thick to you, as well? We should hurry. There’s no full moon, but dangers persist no matter what. The walls could cave in on us, and we would end up being nothing more than splatters of red.” 

Robin comments, placing the stopwatch back into your hand. She’s more odd than you initially thought, but individuality is part of being human. A chill same as before wraps itself over your spine and almost causes you to gasp aloud. You feel anxious, and for a second you swear you feel the same eyes boring into the back of your head.

“Of course.”

Exhaling , you glance behind you, gripping the watch as if it were your lifeline. You're frightened, so you walk side by side with Robin again.

“These boots are rather comfy, Miss Robin.” You clear your throat, making small talk. It does calm you a bit, maybe it's the paranoia from being alone all those years in a coffin. Why did you ever sleep in one anyways? 

“Aren't they? A friend lent them to me, she's quite the fashionista.” She chuckles, reaching the now well-worn staircase that leads to the hidden door which you entered many years ago. It’s bittersweet, seeing the stains of old blood and splints of bone while simultaneously taking in the castle which gave you comfort. Things are sure to have changed quite a bit, and in order to get your steady food source replenished, you would have to be in a position of power yet again. Such a thing wouldn't be too easily achievable, considering you underwent some sort of spiritual awakening while slumbering.

The you which the world knew saw you as a bloodthirsty deity who would give humans a few extra years of health and life for a bath of blood. That does sum you up, actually, but now you feel your existence is more than to just feed and slaughter. New feelings, sensations, and coherent thoughts are filling your stained soul with curiosity, the question is not what is the cause but why is the cause.

You confuse yourself a bit. You spent the entire journey back up spacing out, unsure if you even made conversation; you can't really be bothered by anything more than your own internal conflicts and hunger. Immediately you begin to notice the crickets make a cacophony of noise, the crashing of waves and distant howling is all too familiar. One more glance at the familiar surroundings before you leave for an uncertain amount of time, maybe returning eventually, and maybe not. An eardrum piercing howl cuts through the air, and Robin unsheathes her dagger cautiously, stalling for a moment as she hooks her lantern on the loop of her belt before grabbing your hand, gently tugging you along with her.

“Do you have somewhere to stay tonight? I’m planning to check into a nearby inn, but I’m concerned about you most of all. It’s no good escorting you if I am to hear that you are deceased by the next day. It could just be the goodwill of the senior adventurers spreading through me… It’s out of character for me, but nobody quite takes an interest in history much anymore, so I suppose I just want you to live long enough for us to be acquainted.” Robin’s eyes watch the woods for a minute, before they momentarily glance over to you, awaiting an answer.

You don’t have any choice but to stay with her– how could you survive without her, either way? The thing you need most is her blood, but her comment about the “senior adventurers” piques your curiosity, and you certainly are tempted to ask a question or two.

“I don’t have somewhere to stay–  not anywhere nearby, at least. And, er… I’m certainly… Thrilled, that you would like to get to know me. Many don’t have such an appreciation of the past, normally. It’s a relief meeting a woman like yourself.” Clearing your throat, you walk up beside her, and she gives you a soft smile and a nod, signaling she’s ready to go. She’s doing her best to stay vigilant despite showing clear signs of exhaustion, and you can’t help but admire her, in ways more than one.

“Apologies if I may come off as presumptuous, but would it be okay with you if the both of us were to check in at the inn together? I can escort you wherever it is you live tomorrow, but we need to make it through this night safely first and foremost. Nami would certainly be upset if her boots were to be torn to shreds.”

A rustling is heard nearby, and you feel a bit upset at the fact you no longer have people willingly disregarding their lives to check for danger. You suppose this woman armed with a dagger of silver would do just fine, as well— Wait, no. You scowl when you find yourself thinking the exact same way you have in the past, it’s what got you killed and you surely aren’t looking forward to yet another “reawakening” anytime soon.

“I have no qualms about that, Miss Robin. You’re a sweet woman.”

You sigh, watching Robin’s tense posture loosen up when a rabbit comes running out of the bushes into the open— it stops in front of you for a second, looking up at you with round eyes you can see just fine in the dark, but Robin douses the scene in light, attempting to help you see better. You can smell the fear resonating in the small creature's body as soon as it sprouts up, some say animals can see far deeper than just the surface level of oneself, even into a soul. You think it's nonsense. It scrambles away, and the sound of the small pounding heart becomes nothing more than a whisper into the night.

“Let’s make haste, then. I’m beginning to get a bit jumpy.” Robin speaks as if the trees are actively listening, shuddering just as audibly as it is visible. The air is cooler with each step the two of you take, and you just can’t break out of the silence, because it feels wrong.

You feel those eyes boring into the back of your head every step of the way. Each time you turn around to only be greeted by an owl with eyes just the same as his, and you fear this time you may lose your mind. There’s a lot you are curious about— but you are more so confused on why he is stalking you all of a sudden after forgetting about you for centuries, leaving you high and dry with nothing else to do other than wait around and take your anger out on people by stealing their lives away, you can’t recall the entirety of your humanity but you’re sure that he took it from you for a selfish reason.

Why else would he do such a thing? Damning you for eternity by sharing his blood with you, transforming you into this… parasite who needs others to live. You find your thoughts heading into a circle, so you try to stop thinking too much about Mihawk.

After maybe twenty-five minutes of walking, a city makes its way into your line of sight, though it is deep into the night, occupied minds cannot find the time in their schedules for sleep, and they wander the streets. Some laugh merrily, others wallow in their own negativity, and you and Robin are just looking for somewhere to settle. It would be easier to go after a drunken man and drink him dry, but you aren’t the type of vampire to chase after men simply because they’re easily accessible, you have your eyes set on a beautiful archaeologist this time. Following in her footsteps, you reach a cozy looking Inn. There are orchids displayed in intricately patterned vases nearby the open door. The building itself is made of a sturdy looking wooden structure with a wide arch that has a homemade sign on display.

“Come in, come in! Are ya ladies looking for lodging? Beauties such as yourself should never be caught out at such a late hour. You too, young man with the dashing golden locks! I have plenty of room for all.”

An older woman comes into view, popping out of the doorway and dancing towards you two, including the blonde man. She’s short and stout with graying hair tied back with a piece of cloth, an apron tied around her waist with a welcoming smile.  There’s a keyring hanging from a chain clasped around her neck, which must be keys to the rooms.

“How much would you charge for a single room with two beds? I’m afraid I’ve nearly used all my travel funds. It's just for tonight, ma’am.” Robin unclasps a leather pouch from around her belt, her lantern is now extinguished. She loosens the drawstrings around it, digging around for a second as she awaits an answer, her cold blue eyes drawn to the contents of her coin pouch. The woman looks back between you and Robin with an accusatory glance, her lips pursed, and eyes narrowed all while she crosses her arms over her chest.

“Why, sure, I can do that for you two… Maybe they’re together…?” The older woman not so quietly mutters the last part under her breath.

“And you, young man?” She speaks to the hooded blonde man now, who jolts the very second she tries to draw his attention. You watch him remove his hood after stepping a bit more into the shadow casted nearby, then you notice his odd eyebrows. They’re swirled, but he seems to cover the right side of his face with his bangs quickly when he catches onto your curious look, a shy blush and beating heart greet your ears and eyes, which you consider a rather friendly introduction. There is still a part of you that enjoys this manner of attention, but you want to keep it buried for now.

“One room, one night. Please and thank you, Mademoiselle.” His voice is smooth, but it has an undeniable presence, reminiscent of a certain emperor which ruled about a century ago, one who coincidentally also had swirled eyebrows and blonde hair. What a great shame such a handsome young man even somewhat resembles that stupidity encrusted oaf.

“For the ladies, thirty in total, for the young man, it's just fifteen.”

She leads the three of you inside slowly, shutting the front door of the Inn after all has entered. The reception area gives off a comforting vibe, and there's the faint smell of dinner dug into the beige colored walls, the wood planked floors are a bit squeaky and worn, but still not the slightest bit dirtied. Robin hands over thirty berry, and your brows quirk up when you see the exact same face on the coins. That asshole made his way onto the modern-day currency. The blonde man hands over his payment as well, your eyes glance over the rings of silver adorning his fingers, paired with many jewels. Not exactly the best choice if you’ll be out in a slightly more rural area, but maybe he’s just a clueless rich kid who got lost. 

“I’ll be right back young man, wait here for a moment while I show these pretty ladies to their room.”

Nodding towards your direction, she guides you down a dimly lit hallway, passing what must have been a dozen doors before she finally reached one that seemed deliberately excluded from the others. Does she actually think you're a couple still? You have no interest in romance, merely feeding off of people, male or female. A pretty face does help, that you will admit. The innkeeper removes a heavy metal key off of the large keyring hanging around her neck, and places it into Robin’s open hands.

“You two ladies stay safe, I wouldn’t go out this hour at night, what with all the rowdy men. Your door locks, too.” She smiles at you two, before walking back to the reception area.

Robin sighs, unlocking and pushing the door to your room open. The room is a bit smaller than someone of your caliber is used to, but it is clean and pristine, but the windows only have a sheer curtain to cover them. There’s two beds in each corner, their footboards facing each other, one on the left side, the other on the right. Robin removes her boots, loosening the clasps on them and placing them neatly by the door, the lantern she had with her is rubbing against her hip with every step she takes… You don’t know why, but you can’t seem to stop watching it. You’re telling yourself it’s just because you’re hungry, but if you keep this up you’ll reveal the secret you’re trying to keep even from yourself.

When you snap back to yourself, Robin has already tucked herself into the bed in the left corner. Her clothes are scattered near the foot of her bed, and you avert your eyes like a sinner scared to face the divine.

“I’m going to bed, I don’t want to have any delays for when we set out in the morning.” Robin yawns, shuffling around under the thick blankets in bed. One can only imagine what lies underneath. Sighing, you place yourself on top of the right bed, subtly glancing over to watch Robin, simply because you need to make sure she’s asleep so you can try to feed off of her, no other reason. Eventually, the rise and fall of her chest becomes rhythmic, and she’s asleep. Is now a good time? You feel nervous, for some reason… It feels like you’re being watched again.

Your back is turned to the window, so there’s no mistaking it, his eyes are back onto you. As you whip back around, you see a glimpse of him, before he’s gone within a blink of the eye.

Mihawk.  You scowl, snatching the key off of Robin’s nightstand and begin scrambling to unlock the door. Angry footsteps are as silent as can be, but you are running as fast as you can to get outside before you can process your thoughts about why he’s following you around again. Swinging the door open with an unimaginable force, you disregard the curious and frightened crows staring at you, walking in the direction of the woods. Is this another one of his sick jokes? What’s he going to do, bite your neck again? Worst case scenario is that he kills you. Again.

“Is something the matter, Y/N?”  Same as before, he appears behind you, his cold breath tickling the back of your neck in the exact same manner. He smells very strongly of blood still, and you can feel the weight of all the lives he has taken after you, maybe you can even taste their blood smeared on his lips. Fear stops you from turning to face him.

“You pompous fool. There certainly is, and it’s the fact that you’ve been constantly following me ever since I awoke. You already turned me into a parasite, what more do you want? How greedy of a man are you?” You’re seething with unbridled rage, and a feeling of helplessness. His cold hand rests against yours, his fingers allowing themselves to intertwine with yours with his palm pressed against the back of your hand. All these years, and you still fail to understand him. He purposely made you turn, but why? It could be something that you did as a human woman, but your memory betrays you. He’s clearly mocking you by holding your hand, inadvertently stating that he sees you as no threat.

“Now, now… There isn’t any need for you to be so full of hate. Eternal life is a blessing, not the curse you may think.”  He has a smile on his face, surely. But why? Why is it you who has received it, then? Mihawk is an odd man who simple minds can’t even begin to understand, and even you barely grasp exactly what kind of man he is, because vampires prefer to live in solitary. He confuses you with his words, and you stay silent, too weak to fight.

“You already had your fun about a century ago, so I was worried when I heard the news… I wanted to be sure you had a steady food source. After all, you are a part of me, and I am not as cruel and evil as you may be driven to believe. I have no time for your tantrum, so it would be greatly appreciated if you ran along.”

Everything’s even more confusing now. Worried? A part of him? Is he being metaphorical, or is he speaking in the literal sense, that you do not know. His hand slips away from yours, and you feel his presence dissipate. You can’t trust him, but you find yourself growing curious about him and where he even originated from. That woman, Robin, is interested in the history of you, who is also a vampire, and it’s possible that maybe she is aware of Mihawk’s existence, or she has already studied him. Lucky you, you have an archaeologist to help you get two things you need.

You walk your way back inside of the Inn, defeated, but determined. Maybe joining the same guild as Robin would allow you a few resources to learn more about Mihawk, vampires, and what else to do with your life.

But, you are still hungry. It’s urgent, you need to feed by tomorrow night at the very least.

[tadpole-apocalypse]

so what’s your verdict on veilguard? Seems like you’re not a fan

Putting this under a read more because I am going to be brutally honest about how I feel and it’s extremely negative.

I hate this game. I haven’t played past the middle of act 2 (whenever the second meeting with the inquisitor is) and I have no desire to pick it back up now. I feel like I’m in mourning for the game I wanted, the one that was canceled and now I’m in my anger phase of my grief.

I feel lied to and tricked by BioWare. I thought, well with everything going on and all the delays and restarts it probably won’t be as good as Inquisition, but at least I can count on them for a fun role playing game and romances. I didn’t get either of those things, and in fact those two aspects were so poorly done it is astounding to me that they felt this game was ok to ship like this.

They told me this was the most romantic BioWare game and considering the heights I experienced with BG3’s romances (Astarion and Lae’zel’s romance and character arcs will live in my heart forever) I had high expectations. Instead I got a tepid non romance where I only learned I was dating someone by the Inquisitor mentioning it off hand. The lucanis romance gave me nothing; no story, no drama, no spite, no romance. There is no slow burn here, this is a NO BURN.

Apparently his romance scenes aren’t even unique to Rook and are also used for Neve which is insane to me. Romancing him makes me feel like a creep trying to bully my subordinate into a relationship.

Even the better romances are horribly under developed. 18 minutes of romance content is PATHETIC. They hyped up these romances!!! They knew they were lacking and marketed them in a way I feel is very slimy and misleading!

My other major sticking point is everything with the Dalish. I hate hate hate everything about how they’re handled and barely involved in a story of their own gods; they should have had a scene of an Arlathvhen where the clans meet up to discuss these new revelations, causing some clans to side with elgar’nan and ghilan’nain. But BioWare was too cowardly to have enemy Dalish and put them up on a high shelf away from their own story and mythology.

There’s so many little things that start to add up and impact my enjoyment. It’s not just those things but a lack of attention to detail of their own world. No new tavern songs, inconsistent accents, lack of meaningful roleplay options, the overly modern way of talking, the themes of religion and faith being completely absent, everyone being very blase about being in the fade physically, no sandal and bodahn…

They should have designed all the Evanuris, or at least Andruil. I have wanted to see her void/blight armor forever. Having them just already be dead of sadness because their arch demons died is very much a let down. 😤

I do think the game has redeeming qualities but these grievances I have far outweigh any of my enjoyment, for now. I’ll revisit it later once my head has cooled and see if I feel different later.

That said I have plenty of mutuals who are loving and enjoying the game and what it gives and I am glad that they are able to get something from it. I always like seeing people be creative and making their own stories and I hope for them it was the game they wanted and I really wish I could share that sentiment.

[igotanidea]

Not trying: Dick Grayson x reader

She was not trying to get his attention.

And anyone who would even come as close as to suggest that, was being scoffed at, almost laughed at, and brushed off using the classic argument of her being too busy to deal with stupid gossip.

But people were not stupid.

And definitely not the GCPD detectives and officers, of which Y/N had the pleasure to be one.

There was no way to miss the days when she was dressing differently, trying to look pretty. Days that happened to be the ones when Dick was having an office duty and wasn’t on field.

Days when she was sad and internally calling herself off when it turned out he took an unexpected day off or something kept him outside the precinct.

Days when she was faking a smile just so he wouldn’t think she was weak or something.

She was not weak.

She was human.

And in this particular case, being human came with falling in love out of the blue with the guy that couldn't care less, because –spoiler alert!- you cannot possibly plan love.

So she was hurting and cursing that part of her that made her keep on trying over and over again.

Spending days at work, full of energy not trying to get his attention, and evenings in front of TV wishing and praying for this hope to just go away and never come back. It was simply heartbreaking to have it regrow every morning just to tear it away at the end of the day.

Like freaking Prometheus with his liver.

But there was one thing similar between them.

They both suffered because of love for humanity – or in her case – one particular human.

***

It was like that for months now, and finally, all those self-doubts and sadness took over her completely.

So at work, she was avoiding people. She closed herself in her office, deciding to put that teary attitude to use to do some cleaning and remove old files.

Clean space, clean head right?

And those tears that finally started falling down her cheeks were definitely going to be helpful with dusting.

She was crying at work.

How pathetic was that?

But it was okay. It was okay. It was okay.

But now that she'd finally let her tears out, she couldn't stop, as though it was a build-up of all the times she'd held the tears in and her body just wasn't having it anymore.

And since life has a tendency to play mean tricks on people, the moment when she looked like a panda with smudged mascara and red nose that would put Rudolph the Red-nosed reindeer to shame was the exact moment her office door opened with a loud thud and the Chief walked inside.

“Y/L/N. You good?” he muttered, torn between his boss-like attitude and sudden awkwardness upon seeing one of his best detectives in such a state.

“Uh-huh. Yeah. Yeah, I’m perfect. Why?”

“Um…” the man looked at her dirty, teary face that was speaking for itself. “No reason at all. At all.”

“Is there anything I can do for you,” she inquired as she grabbed some tissues and wiped the stains away – or so she thought – actually making it worse.

“We got a crime scene. You’re going.”

Little did she know, her boss was having second and third and even fourth thoughts about putting her into investigation in this state, but no one else was available. And – to add to his desperation – the first clues were pointing to the crime of vengeance which were her specialty.

“Great. I’m coming.” She instinctively grabbed her gun from the shelf, but before it ended in her holster the boss capably took it from her, shaking his head.

“No.”

“But-“

“Y/L/N this is an order. You are not to take it.”

“But how am I supposed to-?”

“You can take Grayson.”

“WHAT!?”

“In fact, you both will be assigned to this case. This boy needs to get his head out of his ass. Maybe you’ll be the one to teach him some humility.”

“Huh. Yeah…” she stuttered with the greatest amount of sarcasm in her head. Because the woman who was In love with a man was definitely not going to add to his ego, even if only subconsciously. 

***

“Y/N!” Dick grinned, which would probably be a little less weird if he was not standing in front of a dead body.

“Grayson,” she muttered, sticking hands in her pockets, putting on the most indifferent face expression possible.

“You look different” he looked at her with an insightful look.

“Now that’s quite an observation, detective.” She mocked back. Anyone would notice her make-up less state, bloodshot eyes, disheveled clothes,  and messy hair.

“Were you busy in that little office of yours?”

“The hell, Grayson?!” Y/N instinctively reached for the gun, but obviously did not find it and sighed in frustration. Screw her boss.

“Whoa! No need to get defensive. You just look a little – I don’t know – left high and dry?”

“I swear to God, if you don’t cut that bullshit, you’ll be the next one ending up in a body bag.”

“You wanna come at me, detective?” he smirked.

“Why am I being punished with working with you…” She grabbed the bridge of her nose, squeezing it, sensing the massive migraine coming.

“Cause you’re clearly the only one who can make me get my head out of my ass.”

“Nice. Chief told you that too?”

“Nah, I just bugged your office.”

“You do realize that’s illegal, right?”

“I’ve been authorized.”

“Oh yeah? By who?”

“By my human instincts and care for my friend.” He reached for her hand and squeezed it in a gesture that was supposed to be reassuring. “You’ve been sad lately and –” the brush of his hand on hers made her shiver and – despite everything she did not want to do – take a step back.

“Let’s focus on work shall we?” She moved to talk to the CSI and technicians to get details about the traces and the technicalities.

“Yeah, if that’s what you want.” He shrugged “But you are boring!”

She was not boring, merely trying to save herself from any more possible heartbreak – or worse – ridicule.

***

A few weeks later, with the investigation still on, they were both buried to their necks in paperwork, searching for dots and connections and any possible explanations and seemingly invisible tracks their culprit may have left.

And working together involved late nights spent together at the precinct, countless nights of Chinese takeout and getting closer, which was both a curse and a blessing.

Blessing because she learned a lot of little details about him. Like for example that he wasn’t just the son of a billionaire who was playing a cop. Like how he actually wanted to separate himself, make a name for himself and not be only known as “the adoptive alumni of Bruce Wayne.” Like underneath all that goofy act he was actually deeply caring and involved in his work, in helping people and making the city a safer place. Like his eyes were sparkling every time he mentioned his siblings or how his mouth twitched in restrained laughter when she said something that was sarcastically funny.

And a curse, because all those little details only made her fall for him harder. And even if she skipped on that not-trying-to-look-pretty act, because investigation took much more of her time and effort, the longing was still there.

“So, what is that big brain of yours telling you about this?” he asked, throwing her off her thought that at the moment had little to do with the crime.

“About what?” she muttered, trying to figure out what he was talking about for the last couple minutes before she spaced out.

“The newest evidence obviously!” Dick laughed, rummaging through his box of beef Chinese, putting his feet on the desk.

“Hey, watch out!” Her first reaction was rushing to save the documents from the inevitable sweet and sour sauce stains.

“Relax, Y/N. It’s not like I’m going to mess anything up here.” The chopsticks were thrown up with undeniable capability, swirled in the air and landed back in his hand without any damages done to the files. “See?”

“Show off.”

“And yet, this show off made you distracted, didn’t he,” Dick asked as he leaned forward, meeting her eyes.

Too close!

“For the record—” she started and then her eyes grew wide as a sudden realization hit her. A second later, she was throwing the papers away in a haste to get to something.

“Hey! Whoa! Y/N! What-?”

“Shut up, Grayson!”

“Shit, I really have to set you up with my brother Jason. He needs a girl in his life and you two will bound hard over the love of telling me to cut on the talking and-“

“I said shut up, Grayson!” a bunch of papers hit his face. She couldn’t even bring herself to care that the man she was in love with wanted to set her up with his brother. She just figured out the entire case. All hecause of a pair of chopsticks having been thrown into the air.

“What are you looking for?”

“Here!” she exclaimed happily pointing at some pictures from the crime scenes and an alleged instrument of crime.  “See? We were wrong all along! From the very beginning. This is why he never left any traces!”

“What are you talking about? I don’t-“

“Hush. You don’t need to understand a single thing. Just grab your gun and badge and follow me. Come on, pretty boy, we don’t have much time and I know exactly where we’ll get the perpetrator.”

Dick could only stand there in his feet rooted to the ground, watching Y/N figuring the whole case out, the wheels in her brains turning faster than a race car, face flushing from excitement, pupils dilating.

Pretty and smart, even with her hair in a messy bun and plain clothes on. Or maybe – especially because of that, since jeans and t-shirts could never suppress her natural beauty?

“Grayson! Come on! Don’t freeze on me!”

“Coming,” he replied as her voice slowly reached his ears. He realized there was no way he was going to let her go anywhere alone. Even if he couldn’t understand a single thing from her rambling and running around, the least he could do was to keep her safe.

***

“Are you absolutely sure about it?”

“Are you chickening out?”

“Your hands are shaking, Y/N.”

“That’s why you are the one with a gun.”

“And killer fighting skills.”

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.”

“That tone of sarcasm is completely unnecessary, you know. And after we are done please do remind me to introduce you to Jason—”

“Don’t you ever shut up?”

“Don’t you know the answer to that by now?”

Y/N sighed deeply in frustration, fighting the urge to curse at him with the strongest cursing words known to humans. And maybe even inventing a few by herself.

“Seriously, Y/N, are you sure that-?”

“Hush!” she put a palm to his mouth, noticing some movement in front of the house they were currently observing from the camouflaged car. “See that? Told you I was fucking right!”

“There’s no need to brag, you know.” He muttered, his voice muffled due to her hand still on his face.

“Admit it.”

“Admit what?” He looked at her with an incredulous look.

“That I was right.”

“Well for the record, I was the one who made you come into a conclusion-“

“Un-fucking-believable.”

She swiftly left the car, abandoning her need to hear the praise from him to the benefit of catching the culprit that has been invading her waking and sleeping hours alike. She was not going to beg for attention, this time for real, sneaking to the house the criminal ring was clearly having some sort of meeting.

And then, there was the one. Looking like a regular person, even if he was exceptionally handsome, but rotten to the core.

“See? That’s the one who-. Dick?” Y/N turned around, but not spotting her partner anywhere. Fuck! Really?! He was leaving her now?! Of all the times and places?! Now?! Was he really so jealous and self-conceited to not help her finish their joint case?

And here she was, thinking she saw something special in him. Something hidden under the surface.

Stupid heart. After all this time they spent together, seemingly building something, she was right back to the beginning, when she was not trying.

And what was she supposed to do now?

Coming inside alone? Reckless.

Calling for freaking SWAT teams? Before they would get here, the meeting of criminals would be over.

Wait till it was over and chase the leader alone?

Listen to their plan and use it later on?

She was a detective with skills, but not a spy!

And she made that one rookie mistake when leaning too much upwards she was seen.

“Hey! There’s someone outside the window!”

“Oh great…” she muttered and only a quick duck saved her head from being hurt from all the glass shattering due to the bullet fired in her direction.

“Get her! She could be a cop!”

The four men broke from the table, grabber whatever weapons they possibly could and rushed right after her.

“Fuck!” She took off running because despite her agility, speed, and quick thinking she physically was no match to the tank-like men. “Fuck you, boss for taking away my gun permissions!” She hissed to herself, running away. “Fuck you Grayson for leaving me alone! I can’t believe I fell for you!”

“You fell for me?” a familiar teasing voice echoed somewhere from behind, but nowhere to be seen.

And it made her stop.

“Dick?” She turned around to search for him.

And it was another mistake.

An iron grip on her arm and sudden harsh yank back serving as a perfect example of her stupidity.

“I got our little bird.” One of the men laughed maliciously.

“Well, I am not exactly little,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. Her only chance was to tread carefully and hope that stupid fucking Grayson will figure out a way out of this mess. Stupid fucking hope that got her in said mess in the first place.

“Huh?” the goon frowned.

“I said-“

“Let the lady go.” Y/N’s words were cut off abruptly by something that seemed like Dick’s voice, but a little more… distorted?

The hell was going on here?

“I really do advise you to let the lady go.” The same voice said again.

“Oh yeah? And who’s asking me to do so? Show your face unless you are all talk.”

“Seeing me only comes once for certain people. And believe me when I say that most of those encounters end up bad when you cross paths with me.”

A man’s silhouette emerged from a few meters ahead, covered by the darkness of the night. At least at first. But as he moved closer, both Y/N and the goon froze, though either of them for a different reason.

“Shit,” she muttered.

“Nightwing,” the goon hissed, tightening the grip on Y/N.

“Hello to you both. Wonderful night we are having, aren’t we?”

“I could argue with that-“ Y/N rolled her eyes. She was definitely going to have bruises tomorrow. That was, if the most talkative of the city's vigilantes wouldn’t actually cause her to end up dead. 

“Congratulations Nightwing, you got me. But there are much more of us in-“

“In that little hiding spot that’s not even properly hidden? Not sorry to break it to you, but Robin and Red Hood are currently dealing with them.”

“Huh?”

“Not very smart, are you?”

“Hey!”

As the goon was getting distracted, Nightwing (?) sent Y/N a very familiar, discreet look and she nodded almost immediately, and suddenly all the pieces of the puzzle formed one clear picture.

“He’s right, you know. You are not very smart,” she picked up the tone immediately.

“Hey!”

“She is a cop,” Nightwing pointed out.

“She is?”

“Yeah, I am. And since I saw your face, I can absolutely guarantee you, I won’t stop until you are behind bars. Unless-“

“Unless obviously you surrender willingly. Maybe then she can strike a bargain for you?”

“That might actually be a possibility,” Y/N teased. “But I’m not sure. Do you think our fella here deserves to be treated lightly, Nightwing?”

“I’m not sure. Are you hurt, Y/N?”

“Can’t lie that my arm is getting a little sore here. If he keeps holding me like this we might also charge him with violation of physical integrity. That’s 3 to 5 years, I believe?”

“And in this case we’re dealing with assault on a public official. Quite an incriminating circumstance.”

“So what do you think, maximum penalty?”

“And the conspiring charges too.”

“And the murder involvement.”

“I say 15 if not more.”

“I’d say more.”

“You wanna bet?” Nightwing smirked.

“I had nothing to do with the murder!” The goon got a little overwhelmed by the quick-paced exchange of words, of which he couldn’t comprehend half of them, loosening the grip on Y/N. And she was quick to use it against him, finding her leverage in using four sensitive spots to knock the man down.

Half an hour later all four men involved were handcuffed and escorted to the police station. 

And after Y/N made her official oral deposition with a promise to submit a written report first thing in the morning, she was finally left alone for a moment of peace.

“Did you really use that Miss Agent trick?”

“It worked didn’t it?” she crossed arms on her chest, looking at Nightwing in a mocking way, without any sympathy at all.

“You know, most of the ladies I know would be at least a little grateful for me saving them.”

“Mhm. That would actually involve the saving part.”

“Let’s check. You are breathing. You are intact. Clearly neither your tongue nor your brain got damaged. Looks quite saved to me.”

“You left me!”  

“For five minutes! Not my fault you are so terrible at self-defense!”

“Not my fault you are terrible at being open with such secrets!”

“It was to protect you!”

“Dick…” she sighed heavily, daring to whisper his name.

“Y/N…” he responded, taking a few steps forward, taking her hand in the same gesture he did all those weeks ago when they started working this case together.

“I thought we were partners? At work” she added quickly

“You fell for me,” he asks, the left corner of his mouth traveling up.

“Oh, now you have a good memory?”

“Did you?”

“NO!”

“Really? No? That's your final answer. Or maybe it’s not,” he pulled her closer and wrapped arms around her waist, preventing her from running away again.

“Yes. I mean, no! I mean- damn it…”

“So, if I were to commit the act of violating the physical integrity of a public official...” he leaned forwards. “what would you say Y/N?”

“What happened to me meeting your brother?”

“I said you have to meet him. Never said why.”

“Oh? And why?” she smirked looking from above his arm to check if they were alone.

“To make him jealous, obviously.”

She chuckled softly, checking the surroundings once more, before slowly reaching to remove his mask and meeting those pretty blue eyes and familiar face.

“Hello there.”

“Hello to you too.”

Their lips were now inches away from each other.

“Which brother are we talking about? Red Hood? Heard he’s hot…”

“Do you ever shut up?” Dick grinned before leaning forward and finally capturing those lips he’s been dreaming about for weeks now.

And kissing her was effortless.

Like he was not trying at all.