#there wasn't enough of that in the books so

[hanniebaeee]

Crushed

Hyunjin x fem!reader

Warnings: sexting, SMUT MDNI

Genre: campus au! (college romance), collegemates to lovers, fluff, smut

Summary: Your best friend Jennie has the biggest crush on Changbin. Changbin likes her too, but they're way too shy to talk to each other. Then there's Hyunjin, Changbin's best friend. And it looks like you and Hyunjin will get together before they do.

a/n: I craved a nice flirty college romance - Hyunjin is 99% flirty menace and 1% human in his one 😋

You had only one person to blame for this situation you're in right now. Jennie Kim. Your best friend. Her and her stupid crush on her dream boy, Seo Changbin.

The library was quiet, as usual. You were casually scanning the titles of books, trying to find that one book you've been chasing for weeks. But suddenly you felt a presence behind you, a little too close for comfort.

Turning around, you found Hyunjin (Changbin’s best friend), leaning casually against the shelf, his eyes fixed on you. There was something about the way he was looking at you - like a predator sizing up his prey.

"Hey," he said, his voice smooth and low, as if he hadn’t just materialized out of nowhere and cornered you between two rows of books.

"Uh, hi?" you replied, more of a question than a greeting.

Hyunjin’s lips curled into a smile, and he stepped closer, just enough to make the space between you feel way too small.

"So, I was thinking," he started, his tone so casual it was almost suspicious, "you've been acting kind of mysterious lately. Like, there's something you're hiding."

Your brain went into overdrive. Oh. So this was about Jennie’s crush. You knew this was an interrogation, disguised as flirting. And damn, Hyunjin was good.

"Mysterious? Me?" you laughed, trying to sound nonchalant. "You’re imagining things, Hyunjin."

"Am I?" he teased, leaning in just a little more. "Because I can’t help but notice you always seem to look my way. It’s flattering, really."

You had half a mind to just tell him it had nothing to do with him. Just so see that damn smug look fall off his ridiculously gorgeous face. But you can't do that to Jennie. So you resisted.

I think you’ve got the wrong idea," you said, taking a small step back, only to bump into the bookshelf behind you.

Hyunjin didn’t back off, though. In fact, he seemed to take your retreat as a challenge.

"Oh? So you’re saying you’re not interested in me at all?" He tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing playfully.

Your mind scrambled for a response, desperate to get out of this increasingly flustering situation.

"Well, you are kind of nice to look at," you said with a little laugh, hoping to throw him off his path. "But definitely delusional."

"Smooth," He said, chuckling softly.

"Oh please," you shot back, quickly slipping past him and you ran for your life, mentally cursing Jennie.

The cafeteria was buzzing with the usual lunchtime chatter, but at your table, the conversation was anything but calm.

“Jennie, I swear your stupid crush is going to get me killed, like real soon,” You said, trying to catch your breath from all the running. “He was just so close…and he looked so good, oh my God!”

You felt your cheeks heating up just talking about it, and you quickly covered your face with your hands.

“And you still didn’t crack? I’m proud of you!" Jisoo cackled.

"Me too," you said, smiling sheepishly. "But honestly, if he had pushed a little harder, I don’t think I could’ve held it together."

Jennie on the other hand was still pouting over the fact that Changbin wasn't making a move on her.

You sighed, reaching over to give her a comforting pat on the back.

“It's gonna be ok, Binnie’s shy, and it's so obvious he likes you!” you said with a smile.

“I just wish he would do it sooner! Because my fantasies are running wild now!” Jennie sighed and you and Jisoo burst out laughing.

Just then you see the boys come into the cafeteria, engaged in some animated conversation.

"Well, I know that if Hyunjin asked me out, I’d just say yes. I mean, he’s way too yummy to let go." You say with a shrug.

Heeseung leaned casually against the wall, chatting with you. You both were laughing at something he said, totally unaware of the storm brewing in the distance.

Hyunjin and Changbin were strolling into the building, when Hyunjin stopped mid-step, his eyes narrowing as his eyes fell on you and the handsome guy near you.

“WHO. IS. THAT.”

Changbin sighed and took in deep breath like he’s asking the universe for strength.

“Bro, keep it together. You’re acting like she’s already your girlfriend.” He bit out.

“She IS my girlfriend. She just doesn’t know it yet.” Hyunjin fumed. “IS SHE LAUGHING AT HIS JOKE?!”

Changbin groaned as he said, “Don’t do this here. Please.”

“No. Absolutely not. Look at him. He’s too... smiley. Too close. He looks ALIVE.” Hyunjin said, his fists clenched.

“He’s literally just talking to her. Calm down.”

“That’s how it starts. Next thing you know, he’ll be proposing marriage.”

“Oh my God.”

And you were getting really good at this. Were you a psychic? Because you sensed the heat of Hyunjin’s glare before you even saw him.

When you turned around, he was standing there like a statue, looking like he was about to do something dramatic. You cleared your throat awkwardly, giving Heeseung a polite smile and saying a quick bye before walking towards Hyunjin.

And Hyunjin didn't even bother hiding his jealousy. His eyes were glowing with possessiveness as you pretended not to notice Hyunjin’s feral energy.

“Hey, Changbin,” You said, giving him a sweet smile.

Changbin chuckled and gave you a friendly salute.

Hyunjin just stood there, jaw clenched, eyes still locked on you. You finally turned your attention to him, raising an eyebrow.

“Hi, baby,” You purred, and that was that.

Hyunjin completely glitched - his eyes widened, and for a moment, he looked like he'd forgotten how to breathe.

Baby?! BABY?! Did she just call me BABY?! Oh my god. Oh my GOD. Is this real? Is this heaven? Is she teasing me? No, she’s not teasing me. SHE MEANS IT. She knows I’m hers. She knows I’d DIE for her. Oh god, she’s smiling. WAIT - DON’T GLITCH, HYUNJIN. SAY SOMETHING BACK. BE COOL.

Oh yeah, the internal monologue Hyunjin experienced was hilarious.

Changbin burst out laughing, slapping Hyunjin on the back as he watched him short-circuit in real-time.

“You okay there, Hyunjin? You’re looking a little... red.” Changbin teased, and Hyunjin snapped out of it trying and failing miserably to look in control.

“Fine. Totally fine.” He said, his eyes narrowing at you.

“You sure? You look a little…flustered?” You asked, knowing exactly what's in his mind.

“I’m not flustered. You’re flustered.” Hyunjin shot back, and Changbin laughed harder.

“Aha, sure,”

Jennie didn’t even want to be in the gym, but Jisoo had convinced her that working out might help her stop obsessing over Changbin. Ironically, that plan flew out the window when she turned a corner and there he was, in all his sweat-soaked glory, lifting weights.

She froze, holding her water bottle so tightly against her chest.

Changbin didn’t notice her at first, and Jennie was trying to quietly flee the scene, when she tripped over her own bag. Right into his chest.

In true K-drama style, Changbin’s reflexes kicked in, and he caught her around the waist before she could hit the ground.

“Are you okay?” Changbin asked, his eyes wide as he glanced down at her.

But Jennie? She's dead. D-E-A-D. With his hand still on her waist. What a beautiful way to go.

“Uh..yes..fine..totally fine..thank you…OH GOD.” Jennie rambled, trying to move, but her limbs are jelly.

Changbin, who had no clue what to do with his life now that the world’s most beautiful girl is in his arms, just stared at her.

“Um...be careful?” He managed to mumble.

“YES. BEING CAREFUL. DEFINITELY. BYE.”

She bolted out of the gym before he could say another word, leaving Changbin standing there, still replaying the moment in his head.

----

Jennie was still shaking as she walked with you and Jisoo towards your dorm, past the football field later that day. You snuck at glance at the field because you knew Hyunjin would be there, for his daily practice sessions.

And as suspected, Changbin and Hyunjin were there, their team jerseys clinging to their sweat-slick bodies.

Hyunjin spotted you instantly, and his eyes locked with yours from across the field. With a grin, he puckered his perfectly plush lips and threw you the sexiest kiss. It was so dramatic and slow, and so… Hyunjin.

You felt your face go crimson as Jisoo and Jennie lost it next to you, clutching their stomachs in laughter.

“Oh my God, STOP!” You hissed at your friends, walking faster.

Hyunjin, now thoroughly pleased with himself, smirked and added insult to injury by winking at you like the cockiest man on Earth. He jogs back to his position satisfied, knowing he’d just melted your brain.

Changbin: You're so extra.

Hyunjin: Unapologetically so. And? It worked. Did you see her blush?

Changbin: You live in your own little fantasy world, don’t you?

Hyunjin: Call it what you want. It’s only a matter of time.

Changbin: Bro, you’re something else🙄

Hyunjin: Thank you. I try😎

You were sitting at your usual table in the library, nose buried in your notes. The atmosphere is quiet, serene - until you smell a certain spicy cologne.

You didn’t even have to look up to know who it was. You signed as he slid into the seat across from you with all the stealth of a tiger.

“Fancy seeing you here, baby girl.” You cringed so hard at that nickname, and glanced up, raising an unimpressed eyebrow.

“Do you even know where the books are in this place?” You asked flatly, because you honestly didn't believe that he did.

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair and said, “Don’t need books when the prettiest thing in here is sitting right in front of me.”

You rolled your eyes so hard you might have sprained something. But he leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand as he watched you with that infuriatingly smug expression.

“I missed you. You know I can’t go a day without saying something completely inappropriate to you.” He said, his tone so unfairly sexy.

You pointedly ignored him, and he just tilted his head with a teasing glint in his eyes. You snapped your notebook shut, glaring at him, though your heart was racing.

“Fine. Hand it over.

“What?”

You held out your hand and said, “Your phone.”

He looked completely surprised for a moment - genuinely thrown off - before his smirk returned. And he dug his phone out of his pocket, unlocked it and placed it in your palm.

You quickly typed your number in and slid the phone back across the table. Leaning in slightly, your lips curved into a sly smile.

“There. Now you can text me whatever you want without ambushing me in public.” You whispered, and Hyunjin stared at the phone in his hand, then at you. His cocky demeanor was replaced by something softer - almost boyish, for a moment.

“You just give me your number?” He said, like he really couldn't believe that just happened.

“Don’t make it a big deal now. Just use it wisely.” You said with a smirk, and grabbed your things.

Throwing him a cheeky wink, you walked away, leaving him completely smitten.

“Oh, trust me, baby girl. You’re going to regret this.” He called after you, earning a sharp glare from some of the other students.

----

You were curled up in bed, cozy under your blankets, scrolling mindlessly through your phone. Just as your eyelids started getting heavy, your phone buzzed.

Hyunjin: You awake, baby girl?

You sighed, already knowing this isn’t going to end peacefully.

You: Barely. What do you want and can you please stop calling me that?

Hyunjin: To ruin your night. Obvious, isn’t it?

You rolled your eyes but found yourself smiling. Of course.

You: Hyunjin, it’s midnight. Go to sleep.

Hyunjin: Can’t stop thinking about you.

You: What about me?

And that was all the invitation he needed to go full throttle.

Hyunjin: About how you looked at me in the library today. About how you bit your lip when you handed me my phone, like you knew I won't be able to get that off my mind.

Your eyes widened, the air suddenly feeling too warm.

You: What are you even talking about?

Hyunjin: Don’t play coy, baby girl. I’m imagining you right now. Your hair messy on your pillow, wearing some cute pyjamas. Or maybe nothing at all. Which is it?

You groaned, dropping your phone and covering your face with your hands. This man. This man. You shouldn’t engage - you knew you shouldn’t - but your hands betrayed you as they picked up the phone and typed.

You: Hyunjin. It’s. Midnight.

Hyunjin: And yet, you’re still texting me back. You could’ve ignored me, but here you are. Why is that, hmm?

You bit your lip, glaring at the screen, but before you can respond, another message comes through.

Hyunjin: Bet you’re blushing right now. Maybe squeezing your thighs together too. Tell me I’m wrong.

Your jaw dropped.

You: You’re delusional.

Hyunjin: Am I? Or do you secretly enjoy how much I want you? Because I do. Every damn second. I’m losing my mind thinking about you under me, moaning my name, pulling my hair. And you know what’s worse? I know you’ve thought about it too.

You pressed a hand to your face, your heart pounding as your body reacted to everything he was saying. Damn him.

You: Hyunjin, I swear to god.

Hyunjin: Swear to me later. Right now, just admit it.

You exhaled sharply, fingers hovering over the keyboard, debating whether to shut this down or let him win. But the next message sealed your fate.

Hyunjin: Baby girl, I’m so hard right now. And it’s all your fault.

You tossed your phone onto the bed and pressed your face into the pillow, muttering curses under your breath. You and your brain debated if this was a good idea one last time. Because you could barely resist this man.

Finally, you grabbed your phone and typed back, your pulse racing.

You: You’re impossible. You know that, right?

Hyunjin: Am I?

You: Goodnight, Hyunjin.

Hyunjin: Sweet dreams, baby girl. Hope I’m in them.

You tossed your phone aside again, sinking back into your pillows, exasperated. You hated how much he affected you. Like how you were actually squeezing your thighs together. You were in so much trouble.

You tossed and turned for around fifteen minutes, Hyunjin’s words replaying in your mind like a broken record. He was hard? Well, it felt cruel to leave someone as hot and devoted as Hyunjin to suffer didn't it? You're so kind hearted. You're doing this because you're kind. Ok.

With a frustrated groan, you grabbed your phone. Your heart raced as you opened your conversation with him. This was a terrible idea. But the temptation was too strong to ignore.

Your fingers trembled as you typed a message.

You: Have you… solved your problem yet?

You hit send before you could chicken out, putting your phone down on the bed and burying your face in your hands. What are you doing?

The response came almost immediately, making your stomach flip.

Hyunjin: Oh? Couldn’t sleep without knowing, huh?

You bit your lip, already regretting this.

Hyunjin: And just so you know, I haven't solved it yet. Wanna help me?

You choked on your own breath. Against your better judgment, you typed back.

You: How exactly am I supposed to do that?

The pause before his next message felt like an eternity. When it finally arrived, you almost dropped your phone.

Hyunjin: Start by telling me what you’re wearing right now.

You stared at the screen, heat rushing to your face. This was ridiculous. You were wearing an oversized t-shirt and shorts, but somehow, telling him that felt scandalous.

You: An old t-shirt and shorts. Nothing special.

Hyunjin: Bet you look so damn cute. But you know what would look even better? You without it.

You: Hyunjin.

Hyunjin: What? I’m just being honest. Now tell me something else. Are you touching yourself while you think about me?

Your jaw dropped for the hundredth time that night. This man.

You: Excuse me?! No, I am not!

But you pressed your thigh together, your arousal burning through you.

Hyunjin: Why not? You should.

Hyunjin: Close your eyes, baby girl. Imagine me there with you. My hands on your thighs, sliding up under that shirt, my lips tracing your neck…

You gripped your phone tightly, your heart pounding out of control.

You: Hyunjin, stop.

Hyunjin: Shh. Just listen. You’d be so perfect beneath me, squirming, begging me for more. I wouldn’t stop until you were screaming my name, completely undone.

You let out a shaky breath, your entire body on fire. You’d never done this before - sexting someone, that is. And never let someone get under your skin like this, either. But Hyunjin? He was intoxicating.

You: I hate you for this.

Hyunjin: Liar. You love it. You love how much I want you, how I can’t stop thinking about you. Tell me I’m wrong.

And you couldn’t. You couldn't tell him he was wrong because he was absolutely right.

You: You’re infuriating.

Hyunjin: And you’re incredible. Now, do us both a favor and get some rest, baby girl. I’ll be dreaming about you.

You sighed, staring at the screen, unsure whether you wanted to scream, laugh, or throw your phone across the room.

You: Goodnight, Hyunjin.

Hyunjin: Goodnight baby (And I did solve the problem, thanks to you.)

You: omg, go away🙈

You groaned, putting your phone away for good and burying yourself under your blankets. Hyunjin has officially invaded your night and you knew he’ll be all you could think about until you saw him again.

The next morning, you found Hyunjin leaning casually against a wall in your department building, with his hands shoved in his pockets, his signature smirk plastered across his face.

It’s the intensity in his gaze that hit you first. The way his eyes trace over you with a slow, deliberate sweep, like he’s seeing you for the first time.

“Slept well?” He asked, his voice so smooth, you could've slipped on it.

You froze, feeling the heat rush to your face and down your neck. He knew what he did to you - he’s savoring it. The way your body reacted to his presence, the way your heart raced in his vicinity.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” you asked, trying to sound casual.

Hyunjin took a step towards you, his eyes darkening further. You felt your breath hitch, the space between you crackling with tension. His gaze dropped to your lips, then back to your eyes.

“I'm exactly where I need to be.” He whispered.

His voice was so low, so commanding, you almost forgot how to breathe. Every inch of you was on fire from the way he was looking at you.

“What do you want, Hyunjin?”

“You. I want you.”

He took another step closer, his body touching yours, and you could feel the raw energy pouring off of him.

You couldn't move - the heat in your body was suffocating, and every inch of you was trembling. You weren't sure whether you wanted to run or pull him closer.

“I hate you.” You whispered.

“You can hate me all you want, baby. But you’ll still be thinking about me tonight. You’ll still be wanting me.” Hyunjin said, and he takes a step back, flashing you a smile.

Not a grin or a smirk. A beautiful, genuine smile.

You tried to swallow your desire, but it was impossible. With a final look that sent a shiver down your spine, he turns and walks away.

----

You lay on your bed that night, the silence suffocating, the thoughts of him flooding your mind. You were tempted to grab your phone, but you hesitate.

No, you told yourself. You’re not doing this again.

But then, almost as if on cue, your phone buzzed, sending a shock straight through your body.

Hyunjin: Thinking about me?

Hyunjin: I know you want this. I can see it in your eyes. You can’t deny it anymore.

You: What do you want, Hyunjin?

A moment passed.

Hyunjin: I want you, baby. I want to hear you say it. That you want me too.

You did want him. You’ve wanted him from the moment you met him, even though you were terrified of where this was headed.

You: I want you, Hyunjin.

Hyunjin: Good girl.

You: What now?

Hyunjin: Now, you let go. Trust me. I’ll be with you the entire way.

You felt the heat between your legs, the aching need that’s been growing ever since you saw him earlier. You slide your hand beneath your shirt, letting your fingers trace down your body. You gasped, not expecting it to feel this good.

Hyunjin: Touch yourself for me. Slowly.

You followed his command without thinking, your fingers ghosting over your skin, moving slowly in sync with his words.

Hyunjin: That’s it. Keep going. I want to hear you. I want to know exactly how you’re touching yourself. Can I call you?

You almost drop your phone. But you're so gone, you text a quick yes.

And he called.

“Baby? Go on now, don't stop.”

There was silence as your fingers slid through your warm wet folds. It has never felt this good before. You could heart Hyunjin’s soft gasps and grosns too. And everytime you made a sound, you could hear Hyunjin's breath shake or he'd exhale loudly.

“I’m close, Hyunjin. So close.” You moan softly, breathlessly.

“Let go for me, baby… let go,”

And you did. You let go. Every muscle in your body tightened, and you couldn't help the moan that escapes your lips as you come undone, your body trembling from the force of it. You whispered his name softly.

And almost immediately you heard him curse under his breath, a breathy moan leaving his lips. You were both gasping for breath, and that's all you could hear just then.

You smiled to yourself, knowing full well that this was only the beginning.

----

The sun was barely up, casting a soft golden glow over the field. You made your way toward the football field, your mind buzzing with anticipation. Last night was still fresh in your mind, and you couldn't wait anymore.

As you approached the field, you spotted him. Hyunjin was in the middle of practice, his body glistening with sweat. His focus is on the game, but his gaze flickered toward you for just a second, before he offered that cocky, irresistible smile of his.

You didn’t even need to speak. You just raise a finger and gesture for him to come over. The smile that spread across his face was everything.

You watched as he waved to Changbin and then jogged toward you. His damp shirt clung to his chest, the sweat dripping down his neck, and your pulse quickened as you realized how much you’ve been craving this moment.

When he reached you, he stood tall, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, his eyes never leaving yours. He was breathing heavily, but he still grinned and said, “You came to see me?”

You didn’t answer him with words. Instead, you took him away towards the back of the bleachers, pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt, and before he could even react, you pressed your lips to his.

The kiss was hot, to say the least. His lips moved with yours, needy and rough. You could taste the sweat on his lips, and it only makes you crave him more. He moaned softly into your mouth as you deepened the kiss, your fingers tangling in his damp hair. The taste of him had your head spinning, making you dizzy with desire.

He pulled back slightly, breathless but still grinning. You could feel his heart pounding against your chest, and you realized that you’ve caught him off guard. He wasn't expecting this.

“Did you miss me, Hyunjinnie?” You whispered against his lips.

“You have no idea.”

You pulled him in closer again, your lips brushing against his again. His eyes flickered with hunger.

You raised an eyebrow, fully aware of what you were doing to him.

“I'll be right back, don't move.” He said, turning and sprinting towards the field, and he was back in five minutes, his backpack on his shoulder.

“Your place or mine?” Was all he asked.

Yours was the closest, and you both were running now, all giggles and bright eyes. Stumbling into your dorm room, you pressed your body against his, your lips finding his again.

This time, the kiss is slower - more raw. The world outside disappears as his hands roamed down your body, pulling you closer to him. His touch was possessive and needy, as if he’d been waiting way too long for this.

His hands slid down to your hips, gripping you tightly as his lips left a trail of kisses down your neck. You moaned softly as his hands slipped under your shirt, grazing your skin, sending shivers through your body. Your fingers tugged at his jersey, trying to get it off, desperate to feel more of him.

He did it for you, taking it off and tossing it aside, revealing the toned muscles of his chest. Without warning, he lifted you off the ground, and you, though surprised, wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you to the bed.

You fell back onto the bed together, his body covering you with his weight, and it felt so warm and safe. He kissed you again, and you could feel the bulge in his shorts pressing against you.

His hands moved with urgency, yanking your shirt off, and his lips were on your skin, kissing everywhere he could. The sensation of his lips on your skin, the heat of his breath - it was almost too much to bear.

He pulled off your pants and panties, impatiently. And you reached for his shorts, your hands trembling slightly as you pulled them down, eager to feel him. His breath hitched as you pushed them down, your fingers grazing his skin, and when your eyes met, you saw the hunger in his gaze.

“So beautiful-” Hyunjin was struggling to be gentle.

Hyunjin’s hands slid up your thighs, pushing your legs apart as he positioned himself between them. His lips found yours again, and you kissed him back, your hands fisting into his hair, tugging him closer.

Your eyes met and you nodded slowly, as he positioned his length at your entrance. As soon as he entered you, both of you let out a breath of relief - finally. The pressure was overwhelming. His pace was slow at first, teasing, until you’re begging for more.

“Hyunjin… please. Faster.” you moaned, and he smirked down at you, his pace picking up. His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he moved in and out of you with an intensity that made you whimper. Waves of pleasure crashed over you, your body trembling beneath him.

“Fuck, you feel so good, baby.” he growled, as your body arched up into him, your nails digging into his back as you felt yourself getting closer to the edge.

He watched you as he moved, and you knew he was enjoying the sight of you unraveling for him.

“Hyunjin... don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop.”

He grinned, his hands moving to your breasts, pinching and rolling your nipples as he thrust into you deeper, faster. Until finally, you couldn't take it anymore. Your entire body shook as your orgasm hit you hard, and you whimpered his name.

Hyunjin followed right after, his grip tightening on your hips as he moved even faster.

“Ah fuck-”

He pulled out just in time, his body shuddering with the force of his orgasm, as he spilled all over tummy. His head dropped to your chest as you both came down from the high.

The silence that followed was deafening for a moment before he looked up at you, his expression softening.

“That was… perfect.” he said, a beautiful smile lighting up his face.

You smiled back, and pulled him back down into a lazy kiss, your lips lingering as he wraps his arms around you, holding you close.

Later that evening, you held Hyunjin’s hand tightly as you approached the cafe where your friends were waiting for you both. Despite trying to keep things casual, you were both grinning like idiots.

Inside, your friends were crowded around a table, already halfway through their drinks. Jisoo spotted you first, narrowing her eyes and nudging Jennie. Jennie looks up from her coffee (behind which she was hiding, trying not to look at Changbin) and immediately froze.

Jisoo leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, smirking as she watched you and Hyunjin make your way over.

“Hi!” you chirped, waving excitedly.

“Hi,” Jisoo says dryly, her gaze flicking to your intertwined hands. “Are we pretending this is news, or...?”

Hyunjin smirked as he said, “Well, just to make it official...”

Jennie choked on her coffee, coughing so hard that Jisoo had to slap her on the back. Changbin just grinned.

“You don’t say,” Jisoo deadpanned. “And here I was, thinking you were just two extremely close friends, eye fucking each other every time you're in the same room.”

Hyunjin, entirely unfazed, said. “Yeah, sure. Friends. The kind of friends who-”

“Ok, let's sit!” You said quickly and Hyunjin slid into a chair at the table, yanking you down onto his lap.

You tried to wriggle off his lap, but he tightened his grip.

“There’s an empty chair right there,” you hissed, glancing at the unoccupied seat across the table.

“I don’t see it,” Hyunjin said innocently, his lips brushing against your ear.

Your friends groaned, but also looked really happy for you both.

As the table dissolved into chatter and laughter, and just then, Changbin cleared his throat.

Loudly.

Everyone turned to see him shifting awkwardly in his seat, his ears noticeably red. He looked around the table like he’s bracing himself for battle.

“I, uh...” Changbin started. “I have something to say.”

You and Jisoo immediately exchanged knowing grins, while Jennie stared at him in confusion.

Changbin glanced at Hyunjin, who gave him an encouraging nod. Then, he locked eyes with Jennie and said, “Jennie, I like you. A lot. And I've wanted to ask you this for so long…will you...um...would you like to go out for coffee sometime? Just us?”

The table fell silent. Jennie froze (again) like a deer in headlights, her coffee cup halfway to her lips. Her eyes darted to Jisoo, then to you.

“Before you think about running,” Changbin added quickly, “just know that Hyunjin is on standby. He’ll tackle you if you try.”

Hyunjin leaned back smugly, his arm still draped around you.

“He’s not kidding. I’d do it in a heartbeat.” Hyunjin teased.

Jennie’s jaw dropped as she gasped,“You - what?!”

She glared at all of you, her face turning bright red.

“You guys are insane,” she muttered, but looked back at Changbin, who was still watching her carefully.

And then, in a voice so soft it’s barely audible, she said,“Yes. I’d like that very much.”

The table erupted into cheers. Jisoo clapped happily, and you threw your arms around Jennie, who was still too stunned to react. Changbin grinned, looking like he just won the lottery.

The atmosphere was warm, full of laughter and love, and as you glanced around the table, you couldn't help but feel content.

Hyunjin’s arm tightened around you, his lips pressing against your temple.

“Told you we’d get here,” he whispered, his voice soft and full of affection.

You smiled, leaning into him. “You were right.”

And you were glad he was.

[maximoffsgirl]

Peace in Chaos

summary: You can’t say no to the twins; Wanda, can’t say no to you. It’s a dynamic that often works in their favor—especially when they desperately want something. The twins know that, if all else fails, they can rely on you to soften Wanda’s resolve, even if they trick you along the way.

warnings: Established relationship, Wanda and Reader are married. Domestic Life. The twins are close to 7/8 years old. Wanda is referred as mama/mom, Y/N is referred as mommy. Otherwise, I think there's none, this is pure fluff

author's note: English isn't my first language :) and to the anon who requested this, I hope this is what you were thinking about❤️

word count: 3.311

not proofread!

When Wanda first joined the Avengers, she spent much of her time locked away inside the room they designated as hers, finding solace in the company of old books she had never had the chance to read before. Among those books, she stumbled upon a collection of poetry and came across a single phrase, quoted by Emily Dickinson; a phrase which was still written at the beginning of the diary Clint had gifted her for Christmas when the Avengers Tower became her home: "The heart wants what it wants, or else it does not care."

At first, Wanda found the phrase peculiar. How could her heart, which had never known a single day of peace, possibly want anything? Yet, as time passed, she began to understand. It was precisely because her heart had endured so much chaos that it longed for something different.

Stability was a foreign concept to Wanda. Her life had always been beyond her control, and when her powers came into the picture, they only added to the turmoil. But the constant inconsistency made Wanda’s heart want one thing more than anything in the whole world. A family.

She yearned for a family like the one she once had. A family she could come home to at the end of the day, where she could sink into the couch with the weight of the week pressing down on her shoulders - an uncomfortable ache, yet in a place where she felt comfortable. An environment where a television program no one was really watching played softly in the background while someone shared the details of their day. Wanda’s heart craved for care and tenderness, something solid yet gentle—a sanctuary that felt soft, safe, and unshakably real.

After the life she had lived—always running, fighting, and losing—it felt almost unbelievable that Wanda now had everything she had ever wanted cradled in her arms. Hard to believe, I know. But with your head resting against her chest, your body nestled between her legs as you scrolled through your phone, Wanda was certain that she needed nothing more. She closed her eyes  briefly, letting herself savor the peace, the warmth, and the steady rhythm of your breathing.

The sounds from your phone mingled with the lively chatter drifting down from upstairs, where the twins were deeply immersed in a passionate debate about something. It was chaos. But it was her chaos. A chaos that she chose and was looking forward to every single day live in. 

“Hm? What are you doing?” Wanda asked, her arms tightening around you as you started to move. Her voice was soft but carried a hint of reluctance. She tilted her head a little to the side, wanting to know what you were planning. 

You turned to face her, a small smile on your lips. “We forgot to put the plates in the dishwasher,” you replied casually, as if that alone was enough reason to leave Wanda's embrace. To your wife, it definitely wasn't.

Wanda let out a low, drawn-out groan, clearly unenthusiastic about you leaving the comfort of her body pressed against yours. She held you a little tighter, silently protesting your attempt to get up.

“Don’t you need to finish your mission report?” you teased gently, raising an eyebrow at her reaction. Your words made her sigh in mild defeat. She had mentioned earlier that she needed to wrap up her mission report after dinner. It wasn’t a task she enjoyed—especially when it meant sacrificing time with you—but it was something she couldn’t ignore, no matter how much she hated it.

“I do,” she complained, her tone carrying a mix of annoyance and reluctance. Her thumb gently brushed against your cheek. It was obvious she didn’t want to move, but the mission report wasn’t going to complete itself.

Before either of you could say more, a sudden, loud noise from upstairs interrupted the moment. Both your heads turned toward the ceiling in unison. Wanda frowned, her brows knitting together as she stared at the source of the commotion.

“What are they doing up there?” she muttered, her voice tinged with both curiosity and a hint of irritation.

“Probably destroying your things,” you joke, smirking at her. Wanda didn’t share your amusement; instead, she shot you a stern look, her concern evident. That only made you chuckle softly.

“Relax, baby” you murmured, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to her lips, your way of soothing her. With a lazy stretch, you slipped out of her warm embrace, earning a soft groan of protest as you stood. “I’ll get the dishes,” you said with a playful shrug, heading toward the kitchen while Wanda remained on the couch. 

She reached out for you, calling your name with a playful pout on her lips, as if trying to coax you back into her arms. But all she got in response was a teasing kiss blown in the air, followed by a few more chuckles from you. "You're impossible," Wanda muttered, though the corners of her mouth twitched, hinting at a smile she couldn’t quite suppress

A few minutes later, Wanda mirrored your actions with a resigned sigh. With a stretch and a yawn, she slowly pushed herself off the couch, kissing your shoulder once she moved past the kitchen to her home office. She opened the door with another huff, the thought of that mission report weighed heavily on her, already draining her energy before she even began.

As peaceful as the silence was, it didn’t last longer than fifteen minutes—a brief reprieve, but in a house with twins, it felt like a blessing. The twins knew better than to disturb Wanda when her office door was closed, understanding the importance of letting her work in peace. However, today was different. They had something important to ask her, and they were certain that mama wouldn’t mind being interrupted if it was truly important.

Wanda, ever attuned to the sounds around her, heard the soft footsteps and hushed whispers before the three gentle knocks echoed on her office door. She glanced down at the mission report in front of her, then dropped her pen onto the pile of papers near the notebook, her attention fully shifting to the interruption. 

“Yes?” she called out, her voice loud enough to reach her sons, signaling they had permission to enter.

The door creaked open slightly, and two sets of curious eyes peeked through the gap. First, Tommy, with his usual impatience, then Billy, who always seemed a bit more cautious. Their wide eyes and raised eyebrows said it all—they had something to ask. Wanda couldn’t help but smile at the sight of them, her stern demeanor softening instantly. She gestured for them to come in, her smile softening as she watched them shuffle inside, their little hands fidgeting with each other in anticipation.

“Is everything alright?” Wanda asked, her voice filled with the kind of tenderness that only a mother could provide.

The twins, true to their age, began poking and nudging each other, whispering in hushed tones while they stood in front of their mother - who was looking at them with amusement as they continued to argue who would be the one to initiate the conversation. 

“Mom, we have something super important to ask. But… promise you’re going to listen first” Billy tried to negotiate, his little feet shuffled nervously as he spoke. Tommy, by his side, nodded his head in support, his wide-eyed expression practically daring Wanda to disagree.

Wanda arched an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she watched her boys’ antics. Leaning back in her chair, she murmured a soft, “Okay…” her tone amused yet curious, ready to hear what the twins were planning. 

“So.. we saw something on the internet..”

That wasn’t entirely true. Long before the twins were even born, you and Wanda had agreed, in a heartful parenting talk, that unrestricted internet access wouldn’t be part of your children’s childhood. That being established, the closest the twins got to the “internet” was their tablets - with a few games they begged to have since all their friends were active on and the little maximoffs were being left out- streaming shows, and, on some occasions like weekends, YouTube videos.

Still, Wanda stayed quiet, her expression neutral as she listened to Tommy’s words. Even if he couldn’t possibly get whatever their idea was from the ‘internet; more likely, he was just saying it as an excuse to shift the responsibility off himself and his brother. 

“And we wanted to try.. We wanted to have a night pool party”

Wanda arched an eyebrow, glancing between her sons with growing curiosity. She had a sneaking suspicion about where this was headed but decided to feign ignorance, opting to play along.

"A night pool party..." Wanda repeated slowly, dragging out the words with a hint of amusement as she looked at her sons. Her lips twitched with a barely suppressed smile. "And where would this happen, exactly?"

"Here! Tonight! We've already planned everything," Tommy blurted out, his words tumbling over each other in his excitement.

Billy immediately hissed at his brother, shooting him a sharp glare. That definitely wasn’t part of the carefully rehearsed convincing speech they had agreed on beforehand. 

Wanda frowned, her amusement fading. If it were any other season, the idea might not have bothered her as much. But her sons wanting to swim in the freezing water of the pool outside? That was a firm no. The idea would only serve so they’d catch a cold and be miserable for the rest of the week. Besides, late hours weren’t meant for pool parties—especially not in this weather and not with the age they had. 

There they stood in front of her: matching cozy pajamas, hair lazily brushed back, and fresh-faced from their recent bath. They looked absolutely adorable, and Wanda couldn’t bear the thought of letting their idea ruin that. Spring was just around the corner, and while her children were undeniably the cutest in the world, she had no interest in dealing with two sick little ones—especially when even the smallest sneeze turned them into impossibly needy bundles of chaos.

“No.” she simply replied, looking back to the now black screen of her notebook. 

“But mom,” the twins protested in unison, their voices carrying the familiar tone of pleading.

Wanda, however, was unmoved. Her decision was final, and she wasn’t about to budge. Crossing her arms, she gave them a firm but gentle look that clearly said, not happening.

“No is no, boys. I’m not going to repeat myself. When it's hotter we can think about it”

The twins left her office with matching little huffs, their quiet complaints trailing behind them. They knew better than to argue further or try to reason with their mother—her decision was final, as always.

But the twins, as stubborn as any Maximoff to ever walk the Earth, weren’t ready to give up just yet. Instead, they exchanged a look, a silent agreement passing between them. They’d just have to come up with another strategy.

It was no secret that, between you and Wanda, you were the parent more likely to entertain the wild ideas your sons came up with. Camping in the backyard? Of course. Nearly a liter of milkshake, even if it was freezing outside? Without a doubt. If it sounded fun, you were usually on board.

You didn’t blame Wanda for seeing things differently. After everything she had endured in her life, control and structure brought her a sense of peace she had rarely known before. Ensuring that the household stayed balanced and comfortable wasn’t just her way of parenting—it was her way of feeling secure.

But that didn’t make her the “boring parent.” If you asked the twins, they’d insist that mama was just as fun as mommy. Sure, she was a little scarier when she got angry, but that only made her the perfect balance to your more carefree approach.

Although they knew better than anyone how to take advantage of your different personalities.

At times like this, when Billy and Tommy had their hearts set on something, they knew they could always count on you to try convincing Wanda to let them have their way.

Sometimes it didn’t work—after all, undermining Wanda’s authority wasn’t part of your parenting playbook, nor was it in hers. But there were moments when a little push for compromise didn’t hurt, especially for something harmless enough to reconsider.

That’s why you felt two little fingers poking each of your shoulders while you scrolled through your phone on the couch. Turning around, you were met with the two most adorable faces you’d ever seen.

“Hi, boys. Already tired of breaking the house upstairs?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

They responded with cheeky smiles, and without a word, Billy climbed up to sit beside you on the couch, Tommy quickly settling in next to his brother. Their mischievous grins told you they had something up their sleeves.

“Mommy…” Billy trailed off, his voice sweet and direct. “Can we have a swim party tonight?”

His question was much more straightforward than Tommy’s had been when they’d asked Wanda.

You frowned slightly at the idea. The weather wasn’t exactly cold, but it certainly wasn’t warm enough to make a pool party seem like the best choice. You thought about it for a moment. The pool was clean, they’d have fun, and it might tire them out enough for an easy bedtime.

“Hm. Why not?” you said with a shrug, giving in to their request. The twins smiled, happy to finally receive a ‘yes’ to their idea. 

“Can you convince mama then?” Tommy asked eagerly, his excitement practically radiating off him. Billy let out another huff, clearly annoyed by his brother's impatience.

You turned your body to face them, a sigh escaping your lips as you realized you'd fallen for one of their tricks, again

“Don’t turn this on me, boys,” you said, shaking your head. But when they hit you with those puppy-dog eyes, you knew you were in trouble. You sighed again, giving in.

“Okay, I guess I could try to convince her... but if she doesn’t budge, I won’t try again, alright?”

The twins nodded eagerly, their smiles growing wider once they got you to agree with their idea. You ruffled both of their messy hairs playfully before standing up, a smile tugging at your lips as you made your way toward Wanda’s office. The twins’ giggles echoed behind you, but you knew you had your work cut out for you if you were going to convince Wanda.

Just like your sons, you approached Wanda’s office quietly, giving a few light knocks before stepping inside. Wanda, who was about halfway through her report, looked up and smiled at the sight of you. Grateful for the excuse to take a break, she rolled her chair back slightly and patted her lap, inviting you to sit.

You settled sideways on her lap, and Wanda wasted no time wrapping one arm around your waist, pulling you close, sighing with the familiar weight of your body upon hers

“How’s it going?” you asked, your fingers working gently at the tense muscles in her neck. Wanda let out a soft sigh, her smile a blend of contentment and fatigue.

“Annoying, as always,” she replied, her voice laced with a hint of frustration. Her hand drifted to your thigh, her fingers lightly running over the fabric in soothing motions as she added with a small smile, “But I’m halfway through it”.

“You know... the twins mentioned something about a night swim tonight,” you said casually, your tone light but deliberate. “And, apparently, I’ve been tasked with convincing you,” you added playfully, though there was a touch of seriousness behind your words.

“Have you now?” Wanda replied, her voice mirroring your playful tone but laced with even more amusement. She arched an eyebrow knowingly, already piecing together where this conversation was heading.

“I know you already said no, but they’re so excited about it, Wands,” you said, trying to play the kids’ happiness card against her. Wanda rolled her eyes, a small smirk tugging at her lips. She saw right through your game but decided to let you play it anyway.

“And just think about it,” you continued, your hands gently moving along her neck, down to her shoulders, and back up again in soothing motions. “We can turn on the pool LEDs, make it fun. They’ll tire themselves out, and bedtime will be so much easier.”

You laid out the positives, your tone soft but persuasive, waiting patiently for her response.

“Love.. I know. But it’s late and It’s not even hot” She tried to resonate with you, sighing with each argument, knowing she has already lost. 

“They’ll be alright, babe. Let them have this,” you said with a convincing smile.”

Wanda let out a heavy sigh, her expression unamused as she looked at you. “If they catch a cold, you will be the one taking care of them,” she said firmly, pointing a finger at you for emphasis.

But despite her words, you both knew the truth. If that scenario played out, Wanda would be right there, rolling her eyes but still doting on the sick twins, as she always did.

You stayed wrapped in her embrace for a while, both of you savoring the quiet presence of each other. Wanda adjusted you on her lap, shifting just enough to free both hands so she could continue working on her report. You rested your head against her shoulder, your warm breath brushing against her neck, which made her smile softly despite her focus on the task.

The content of the report didn’t matter to you now—you’d already heard all about the mission the day after she got home. So you stayed quiet, simply enjoying the comforting warmth of her body and the peaceful moment you were sharing.

After that,  you and Wanda made your way to the living room, stepping in quietly. The twins were curled up on the couch, watching something on Netflix, completely oblivious to your arrival. Wanda stepped forward, arms crossed, hands on her hips, and her head tilted in mock frustration.

“I can’t believe you both!” she exclaimed, her tone sharp and disapproving.

The twins froze, their eyes widening as they turned to face you both. Wanda’s intimidating stance and your almost-guilty expression made them shrink in their spots, unsure of what they’d done.

“What are you two doing? You should be getting ready for the swim party!” Wanda said, feigning exasperation but failing to hide the faint twitch of a smile.

The twins blinked at her, then at each other, before springing up from the couch in pure joy. “Oh my god, seriously?!” Tommy shouted.

“YESSS!” Billy cheered, both of them jumping around excitedly as they circled their mothers, their energy contagious.

Soon, the house transformed into its familiar brand of chaos. The twins, now dressed in their swimsuits, were already splashing around in the pool, the colorful glow of the LED lights—courtesy of Tony Stark—dancing across the water. Their laughter echoed through the backyard, only occasionally interrupted by shouts of, "It's so cold!" Wanda, unimpressed, responded with a dramatic eye roll, her arms folded across her chest.

Standing at the edge of the pool, Wanda kept her distance, her arms wrapped firmly around her waist as she watched the scene unfold. She made no effort to join the fun, choosing instead to watch with a raised eyebrow and an air of feigned detachment. Yet, the slight tug at the corners of her mouth betrayed her amusement.

Somehow, despite her initial objections, Wanda found a sense of peace in the chaos surrounding her. The sound of Tommy and Billy's laughter brought a soft smile to her face, and she even chuckled at your playful teasing—directed at both her and the twins.

Two days later, the inevitable happened. The twins began sneezing, and you found yourself on the receiving end of a very pointed lecture from Wanda. But, as always, her frustration melted away with a sweet kiss, leaving her shaking her head in exasperated affection.

It was a different kind of chaos—one filled with sniffles, tissues, and extra cuddles—but it was hers. Wanda’s heart had finally found something. Had finally found peace in the beautiful mess of it all.

✄╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌

thanks for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it💌

[alwaysanundertone]

Hey!!! Could you possible do marauders with reader who has a really bad fear of spiders, like she cries when she sees them and can’t sleep or panics at the thought, and a scene where the boys help her <3

An unpleasant encounter | poly! marauders x fem! reader

tw: mention of arachnophobia, spiders

comfort

You were reading on Sirius's bed, the sound of the rain outside creating the perfect atmosphere for a good reading session. Your boyfriends were somewhere in Hogwarts, pranking the poor first years, and now their dorm was pleasingly quet.

Your feet were dangling off of your bed, your book held in the air.

You were relaxed, finally winding down after an exhausting day of classes, when all of a sudden you spotted a furry, black creature crawling on your ceiling.

Your limbs froze, immediately recognizing the small animal for what it was: a spider. It wasn't even that big, not bigger than a coin, but still your brain short circuited as you saw it moving awkwardly, his little legs moving faster and faster until it hung directly over your head.

You jumped up, falling miserably on the ground on your ankle, while you still kept your eyes focused on its every movement, not wanting to lose it and find it on your bed later.

Your breath quickened, small teardrops collecting in your eyes as you saw his legs moving rapidly; you felt the panic engulfing you, like being trapped in a heavy blanket in the middle of august. It was overwhelming.

That's how your boyfriends found you, sprawled on the ground, your hand pressing down on the sore area right above your feet.

It was Remus who talked first. "Darling, what are you doing?"

You didn't speak, only raising your hand to point at the scary, black monster.

Sirius chuckled. "Love, I think he should be fearing you, a grown woman, then the other way around."

As soon as he reached for it, you released a screech. "Stop it Sirius! It's going to fall right on top of me and bite me and I'll die! You won't have a girlfriend anymore!"

You saw your boyfriends exchange a look, then James reached for your hand.

"Do you trust us, love?"

You reluctantly nodded, gaining a proud smile from him. "Perfect. Would you like to try something? We will stop as soon as you feel too uncomfortable"

As much as you didn't want to admit it, leaving with arachnophobia wasn't easy. You couldn't bring yourself to enjoy little picnic dates because you were scared of seeing some stupid spider and ruining it. You always felt like you were overreacting, but you couldn't help it.

You cringed as Remus picked up the lid of a discarded clear jewelry box from your desk, standing on top of your bed and proceeding to trap the little creature inside of it. He turned around, giving you an easy smile. "Do you feel comfortable enough to come near, darling?"

Sirius extended his hand, as soon as you took it he tugged you into his arms, making you gasp. “Hey there, love” He grinned, pecking your lips, a small smile forming on your own lips.

He turned you around, making a small gasp fall from your lips. “Just look at it for now, okay? I’ll be right here with you.”

Remus held the box tightly secured in his hands, you looked at the spider. At first all you could do was cringe as you saw his hairy legs move frantically to escape, you saw it moving around the small box, looking for a place go escape, coming out empty handed.

The more you looked at it, though, the more your feelings changed. A sort of compassion crawled its way to your chest, making you feel kind of… bad. Yes, of course the creature still scared you; yes, you still wouldn’t want it to be ANYWHERE near you.

Still, you didn’t want it to die no more. You started to hate the box, to find Remus hands cruel.

“Remus, free it outside. Don’t kill it. Please?”

He smiled at you fondly, nodding and making his way to the window.

You felt Sirius mouth breathing right next to your ear. “I’m so proud of you”

—-

taglist: @eeviee4 @sammyreid @sxmnc

Hi gorgeous souls I’m back ;) did you miss me? It’s been a crazy month 😭

[inspireland]

Assad Zaman must be stopped

because i always saw this quote going around, which is wild enough on its own, right?

Eric Bogosian: I was playing catch up on reading the books when we started, and I just finished the seventh book after we got back from Prague. But way back in the beginning, when we first met each other, Assad kept saying, "Yeah, we're hooking up." And I hadn't gotten there yet, so I wasn't sure what he was talking about. Assad Zaman: He didn't believe me. source

but then

BUT THEN

I found out that in the same interview, right before he said that, he ALSO said the following:

Assad Zaman: And I have always said I am more than willing to go down the "Devil's Minion" route with Eric or Luke or both. It might be a nice parallel, alternate reality version to do a three-way. [Laughs]

EXCUSE ME, SIR?!?? SIR!

You casually drop the idea of being super open to filming a threesome with Eric and Luke and then giggle away? SIR???

like

I can see you like this after dropping THAT and I'm just-

Season 3 please pleASE PLEASE I BEG YOU GIVE ME THIS SHIP! WE'RE ALL READY!

[yoredoesmore]

Old Habits Don't Die | Hoshina Soshiro

pairing: Hoshina Soshiro x Reader

genre: fluff/a lil romance/slowburn/enemies to lovers

summary: your childhood enemy still gives you a hard time even after all these years.

wc: 3k

Taglist: @adimelymanner @soshirohoshinasimp @istarluvx @hoshinasblade

“Mrs. Yuki! Soshiro stole my building blocks again!” A voice yelled out. It did not take much to depict the clear annoyance and irritation that were laced into the cry. And if it wasn't obvious enough that you were moments away from lashing out on the other kid, the deep frown on your face served the purpose of further indicating your strong emotions of anger.

“They don't belong to ya!” Soshiro claimed boldly, completely disregarding the possible threat you would turn into, and continued to dangle the red pieces just slightly out of your reach. It was in that moment where you felt deep sympathy for bulls and learned to understand how seeing a simple color could drive on to go such lengths.

Kindergarten was supposed to be a place free from complications and pressure, for the children at least, yet you found yourself in a solid cloud of stress constantly. The source of your worrying state being no other than Hoshina Soshiro.

"You can't hog the animal plushies, you have to share them, Soshiro!”

“So that they end up stinking like ya?? "No way!"

The boy's snarky remarks were often followed by a rude motion of similar disrespect. Darting out his tongue and giving you nasty grimaces have become an everyday occurrence. You have thought about smacking him too many times, more than you would like to admit but you refused to lower yourself to his antics.

Besides the constant nagging and stealing, Soshiro loved to call you names. Pigtails had turned into a bad word when taken into his mouth and it has even come so far that he no longer used your name and rather referred to you by your hairstyle.

You sat neatly tucked in one of the reading corners, the world but just a mere background sound to you. The picture book held images that you have never seen before, it was deeply interesting. Caught up in the moment and feelings, you did not notice the malicious source approaching you.

By the time you took notice of his presence it was already too late.

Soft hands reached out for your pigtails, slightly pulling you up by the hair. The motion was more sudden than painful, yet you still let out a loud scream. Almost immediately, one of the caretakers came to your aid and you wasted no time telling them about Hoshinas' antics.

He was sentenced to 15 minutes in the corner after.

A sly, almost triumphant smile sat on your lips, watching the boy finally get the punishment he deserved. And of course you did not fail to show him your jolliness.

“Serves you right!” You cheerfully exclaimed, tongue darted out to give him a taste of his own medicine. The boy simply rolled his eyes and scoffed.

“All ya do is cry cry cry, that's no fun!” It appeared that Soshiro was more upset about you ending his antics before he could even start, rather than having to carry out the punishment. His eyes sat on yours for a while, as if he was trying to communicate something, but then he returned his gaze to the corner for good.

The day went on, and to your surprise, Soshiro did not even think about approaching you. The moments felt peaceful and calm, yet something was missing. Once again, you found yourself in a play corner, building towers that were meant to reach great heights. A figure approached you and it was no other than Mrs. Yuki.

“The tower looks amazing, Y/n!” She cheered you on, earning a smile from you.

“Without Soshiro here, I can make it even higher than before!” You cheerfully chimed.

“True, at last there is peace. But it must also be boring without him, right?” She suddenly suggested

“Not at all! Soshiro is sooo noisy, like a goose! I'm glad that he is no longer around to bother me.” You said firmly, standing your ground. The woman simply chuckled, her hands finding themselves in your hair to give it a strong ruffle.

She had a certain look in her eyes, one you found yourself unsure of. Then she left.

Whatever they told Soshiro after getting out of the corner had a strong effect on the boy for the remaining day. He stopped bothering or insulting you and when he had to start a conversation, he made sure to address you by your proper name. The newly established peace felt great for a while, but as the day moved on, it began to bore you out indeed. You missed the old dynamic and how he used to enthusiastically approach you just to get on your nerves again– but of course you would never admit that.

Did you break him? The Soshiro who was known as the powerhouse of your kindergarten group?

A subtle frown accompanied you on your way to the front door where your mother was waiting for you for pick up. Once again, you were so deep in thought that you did not notice the kid that was running right at you.

And then you felt someone harshly pull on your pigtails.

“Soshirooo!” You started crying and Mrs. Yuki already came to your aid to comfort you.

The boy topped off his harassment by showing you the nastiest expression known by a child, or mankind, his tongue spitting at you from a distance.

Old habits unfortunately never die.

After that day, he was put into a different kindergarten group, to no one's surprise. You still saw him every now and then but it never came to any big interactions besides on excursions. But even then, the caretakers made sure that you stayed unbothered by him.

The moments of silence soon turned into solid years. You almost forgot what it felt like, to experience true anger during elementary and middle school. Of course there were some pesky and annoying peers every here and there but none of them had the unfortunate effect that Soshiro had on you. Thus, life remained livable until you reached the academy.

Like a vicious circle everything fell back into place, the insults, the bickering, the testing of your patience– it was like a bad joke that repeated itself over and over again.

“Students are not allowed to use the training rooms on the third floor, they are strictly reserved for the higher ranked students. It's written in the student manual, very hard to skip, unless you don't read it of course..” You spat sternly, the last part coming out as a mocking whisper. You took your job as a student council member as serious as ever and especially Soshiro got to feel the abuse of your powers.

“Calm down, Pigtails.” He replied, not even looking at you as he continued with his stretching.

“Literally nobody cares besides ya and yer stupid manual book. The training rooms downstairs are too crowded– and besides, the higher ranked students barely come up here.”

Whenever you tried to use rules and order on this guy, Soshiro would simply disregard you. It was a constant back and forth with the man, a nightmare that you desperately hoped to escape one day..

11 years later…

“We should get the report back soon.” Okonogi said, a soft smile twirling on her lips as she looked up at you. You nodded your head, exercising one last bow before exiting the room.

You had just started your job at the Defense Force, specifically, as the operations Vice Leader for the Third Division alongside Okonogi.

Today is going to be another all nighter You thought and sighed.

It has always been your dream to secure this position and after hard training and lots of extra studying you finally made it.

Your eyes scanned through the countless files in your hands, trying to figure out which one you should tackle first.

It was a habit of yours, (one you desperately tried to get rid off) blending out everything and everyone around you the moment your eyes fell on a text. You walked in wonky motions, shadowing as many passages as possible before reaching your destination. To your luck, the last time you checked (two minutes ago) the hallway was empty.

It was peaceful all around you, so much that you even began to humm a melody. But what pulled you back into reality was the sharp pain that suddenly spread through your skull, inflicted by a flick to your forehead.

“Watch it, Pigtails.” A light, yet cocky voice suddenly spoke into the silence.

What the..

Your body froze over from head to toe, all senses on high alert. The man who made the comment simply kept walking, not even bothering with your presence. All that remained of him was the soft tone of his voice in the back of your head and the burning feeling his fingers had left behind on your head.

“Soshiro..?”

*

All night was spent thinking about the black haired individual and the memories you were taken back to. The Hoshina Soshiro, the child who made your childhood a mess and caused you stress beyond imagination, he was now working at the exact same place you applied for. What a joke.

Since you both went to Tokyo Neutralization University, you figured that he was going to walk down this path but to end up at the exact same Division..that was simply your bad luck.

Those thoughts accompanied you throughout the remaining day– and their weight was evident on your face. Okonogi took notice of the change in your usually cheerful demeanor and wasted no time in addressing the matter.

“Is all well? You seem a little out of it today.” Her voice sat laced in concern and worry.

“Oh yes, no worries please. It’s just..I think I ran into an old acquaintance of mine yesterday. Here in the building. Haven't seen him in a while and we go like, wayyy back.” The chuckle that left your lips was drenched in awkwardness and discomfort. You placed a strong emphasis on the words acquaintance, refusing to refer to him as enemy or bully to not create a misunderstanding.

Okonogi shook her head in an understanding manner before returning her attention back to her screen.

“Sounds great. Why not talk to him and ask how he has been? I'm sure he was just as surprised to see you again.”

It was such simple advice, easy to digest and execute, yet you immediately knew that you could not follow it. Walking up to him of all people would destroy your mind, even thinking about it had your head spinning.

While the thoughts in your head once again went spiraling, you failed to notice the appearance of a new presence. The door opened and almost immediately all the workers around you stopped their work and researches in their tracks to greet the individual, all but you.

Okonogi gave you a soft nudge against the shoulders in an attempt to get your attention but you failed to react in time. A soft ���hm?” was all she managed to acquire, while your eyes stayed focused on your lap. And when you finally turned your head to the direction she was looking at, all you were met with was the back of a clipboard that was milliseconds away from colliding with your head.

Thud

You groaned. The weight of the item came crashing down on your head out of nowhere. It hurt your pride more than it did your body and the discomfort was clearly displayed on your face.

“Normally I don't need to go such lengths to get my subordinates attention, Pigtails.”

Almost immediately your eye shot open and locked with the man who stood before your seated figure. Your heart tightened into a knot and for a second, you could feel a slight gush of heat sweep over your face.

“Hoshina..” Your eyes held a shimmer the man did not know existed. Astonishment and fright, two so distant emotions, came together in your eyes to create something indescribable.

“..Address me with Captain if you seek my acknowledgement. Now, pay attention or move somewhere else.” Without allowing your heart or mind to catch up to the situation, Captain Hoshina moved back to the center of the room to make the announcement he came for.

There he was, an old enemy, right in front of you. The years have only done him favors. Although he never abandoned the bowl cut, his face has grown into that of a man, handsome with no imperfections to be found. His body too has adapted to his age and profession. Lean muscles and a fit build– he was far from unattractive.

Hoshina had come to pass down some information about the approval of the request the operation team put in a while ago about improvements on both the suit supervision and training program. (Un)fortunately (you were conflicted about his sudden visit) he did not stay for too long, bidding the room goodbye before disappearing as fast as he came. But before fully exiting the room he made sure to shoot you one last look.

“He has changed..” You whispered, thinking about the vigilant rebel you once had to deal with who somehow managed to transform into a high ranked supervisor. Never would you have thought that Hoshina would be one to play by the rules, that simply left you speechless.

From there on no day went by without him somehow finding a way to disturb your work life. He wasn't as persistent or flashy as back then but he made sure to pull you out of your little daydreams or sneak up at you when you were idly walking around the hallways.

Old habits truly never die.

If it wasn't for Okonogi taking care of you every now and then, sending you little notes in which she reminded you to eat enough or covering you up with a blanket whenever the all nighters had you falling asleep at your desk, you would have imploded from exhaustion.

Today was that kind of day. You had fallen asleep around 9pm in your small office and found yourself wrapped up in a cozy blanket. You smiled softly, rubbing the remaining sleep out of your eyes as you got up and folded the rug into a neat cube.

After taking a long and calculated look at the papers you had worked on before drifting off, you decided that you have truly done enough for the day and deserved to sleep in a proper bed.

Therefore you left all as it was and moved forth to exit your office. But as you pulled open the door and took the first step out, you were met with a view that had you thinking that this might be a dream after all.

Soshiro stood leaned against the wall across the hallway, arms crossed over his chest and surprise written all over his face. It seemed like neither of you had expected the other here.

“Soshiro?” It was evident in your voice that you had just woken up.

“Yer awake already?” The way he was asking the question sounded like you were not supposed to be, which left you even more confused.

“What are you doing here?” Although still tired, you did not allow yourself to ease your guard. Knowing him, he was never too tired to spit out a snarky remark or send something flying against your forehead again. But waiting for you in front of your office? That was too much, even for you.

Hoshina did not answer your question immediately, allowing it to float around in the air for a moment before picking it up again. His body moved forward, abandoning the support of the wall and inching closer to you. His arme remained locked though.

“Came to check on ya.”

“The truth please, I'm too tired for this.”

“I ain't lying..don't make this awkward.”

The sudden switch up in his demeanor from sarcastic to soft already made the situation awkward enough, but fortunately for him, you were indeed too tired to properly react. And you could not deny, his softness did manage to peak your interest.

“Yer always doing the most, putting effort into tasks that did not need all that endeavor. I already knew when I first saw ya here that yer were going to burn that little skull of yers out.” His fingers, surprise to none, poked your forehead, slightly pushing you back. You groaned, ready to go off on him but he cut you off.

“So I came to check on ya..every now and then. Maybe, I don't know, because I felt bad for stuff.. “ Hoshina did not finish that sentence, he didn't have to, his emotions were written all over his face.

His words took your mind into a distant space where nothing made sense and all that was floated around in the atmosphere. Hoshina changed. It took him a decade and fragments of his old persona remained but he was not entirely the same anymore. Little you would have died to experience this moment.

Wait a second..

“So those notes and the food on my desk– and the blankets..that was you?” The only reply the man was able to give you was a subtle nodding of his head.

And in exactly that moment your heart skipped a beat.

You immediately felt repulsed. The fact that he of all people was the cause for your fastened heartbeat was a difficult thought to stomach but somewhere, deep down, you were smiling.

“Oh, yer pigtails came undone while ya were asleep.” Hoshina acknowledged, trying to divert the gravity of this conversation to another point. The tension had indeed become so thick it was almost palpable.

“Oh no..I took them out after a certain someone mocked me for them today. He said something along the lines about how they're not fit for such a serious work environment.” You shot him a judgy look and rolled your eyes to which he replied with scoff.

“I was just joking, ya gotta stop taking everything so seriously. Besides,” Soshiros's hands suddenly moved up to your hair, caressing it in gentle motions.

“I think they look cute. Always have.”

He was teasing you again, he had to be. The gentle smile on his face and the soft blush that hushed over his cheeks, he must be toying with you, right? Just like back then in kindergarten, where he would add cute hair clips into your hair without you noticing at first or changing your name cards so you would sit next to him during lunch, he was simply goofing around. After all, old habits don't die.

a/n: me: I have no motivation to write but here is a 3k slowburn fic guys 🥺 lol idk what came over me but the words for this fic just appeared out of nowhere (hope this keeps up)

The city (tumblr) needs me so I hope I will be able to provide you guys with more hoshina content and I also hoped you enjoyed this piece! Not much romance but a little something at the end 😼 consider this a warm up.

Btw I have absolutely no idea how a taglist works, I just tagged random people who interact with my content ^^ (hope you guys don't mind)

See you next time!!

[rusty-marathon-ghost]

I KNEW I WASN'T IMAGINING READING ABOUT RUNNING VAMPIRE BATS!

So back when I was 8 or 9, we had comprehensive reading tests (?) where we were given a story or book to read and we would need to answer questions afterwards to see how much of it we remember.

One of these tests I remember taking was about vampire bats, and I remember putting down that they could run and jump. Apparently, that information wasn't in the text, and the teachers were confused about how I knew that. I told them I must have learned it somewhere else, but I couldn't remember where.

Also around this time, my family computer had a few educational programs that my dad installed for us. I had blocked it out because it wasn't too important or ever relevant enough, but this post unlocked something in me and I remembered it was in one of these programs where I got this information. It even had a small video and everything! For years I thought that maybe I got confused with Twilight, but I finally feel free knowing that I was right all along.

the concept of vampire bats. as in like. the animal. is fucking crazy. like. there's like an actual fucking bat that drinks blood. what the fuck

[icarusredwings]

Baby talk 2/2

Trying something new. Be kind (take 2)

A very little wade fic

Ft. Wo-wo, Mama, and 'essy

For @sirwadewilsonfromimgur because apparently people like my brain

"Logan? It's a bit late, what's wrong?" The voice asks over the phone. He wasn't sure why he called her. Why he called Jean. But he felt like she might know what to do.

"Yeah.. sorry, i-.. It's nothing.. I'll go if you're busy - I just.." he mumbles, phone in his shoulder as he begins boiling some water for the pasta.

"Logan... tell me." She says, in a way of someone who knows he won't tell her if he feels like he's bothering her.

"So, I'm... er.." He turns to see Wade laying in his pile of stuffies, watching the movie with large eyes and a curious o shaped mouth. Right now, they were at the part where she was singing in her secret cave, Wade's eyes glued to the screen in awe, as if he hadn't seen this movie 40 times already. "Babysitting... and I don't really know what to do?"

"Oh.. okay. Well how old are they?"

"Young. Really young. Barely talks." He says, trying not to sound nervous out of his mind as he preps the chicken to be cooked.

"That can be as young as 12 months. Are they potty trained?" She asks, trying to help best she could over the phone. Not like Logan would ever let them see him like this anyway.

"God I fucking hope so." Is all he can awnser with a big sigh. "I don't know, I just.. it's so much different then the kids at school."

Chuckling, he could feel that 'well no duh' look in her eyes and that smug smile. "Well, I would hope that 12 month olds are different than 12 year olds. That's 12:1, Logan." She says, and he grunts, nodding.

"Yeah, yeah, I just.. you read parenting books, right? What do they like? Babys, I mean."

Instantly Wade turns, Giving him a small glare and a pount. "MmMmh.."

"My bad, kids this little." He didn't need to understand the whines to know exactly what he was saying.

'I'm not a baby' He always said that.. man.. Wade not talking felt so weird, and it freaked him out, getting to the point he would subconsiously check to make sure he was still consious and that he COULD talk if wanted, but he didn't.

Wade was just quiet today. Al must think it's a blessing but to Logan? This was a nightmare.

"I do" She laughs again, giggling. "Why? Are they misbehaving?"

"Well... No.. but i'm afraid I might..." He mutters, blowing his cover at pretending not to be anxious about this entire thing.

"Mama?" He hears, indirectly awnsering. "No bub. Not your mama."

The woman giggles again from the side conversation. "I'm sure you'll be fine. Do you want me to-"

"NO!!" He screams, watching as Al got spooked, drawing her pistol on Wade, and for once, she had a good shot. "Get off of me!!"

"Well, jeez Logan, you could have just -"

"Sorry! I have to go!!"

Beep.

"Logan??.. He hung up on me." Jean says, miles away. Logan just knows it.

"Althea! It's Wade!! It's just Wade!!" He shouts, quickly coming over to take the gun from her. "He's just.. really little right now. God damn kid, are you tryna die!?" He yells at him, seeing him only try to curl up more into the woman, tearing up.

"Althea, why don't you go sleep in the room, okay?"

The older woman grumbles, shifting. "Baby you can't lay on me like that. You're too big." She says, much calmer now as Logan pulled Wade off of her and set him back on the floor.

"You're too big for that, kid, you're gonna hurt her!" He tells him, only making Wade feel worse.

"..mama?"

"No! No mama. She dosn't feel good and-"

"Logan. Enough. I can take care of myself." She mutters, groaning as she got up.

".. Mama?" Wade says again, his mind very one tracked at the moment. He knew three things. That he wanted held. He liked Mama. And he didn't know why he was so upset with him. Did he hurt her? Was she okay? Wade wished he could ask, but no words seemed to come out when he tried.

"Hi, Honey, Mama's gonna go take a nap. Behave. Both of you." The old woman mumbles, cupping his face and giving him a kiss on the head, stumbling towards the room. "Wake me up when dinner's ready."

"Yes ma'am.." Logan mutters, glancing down at Wade, watching as he wiped his tears, pulling Fluffy and his legs into his chest, sniffling.

Swallowing, he wasn't even sure if he would understand if he apologized, but he needed to anyway. "Hey.. I'm sorry for yelling at you.. I thought... I thought that.." He rubs his hand into his face with an embaressed grumble. "..Honestly, I don't know what I was thinking. You can't even.. well, no, that's not right. It still would hurt, and I guess I just didn't want Mama to hurt you and- "

Wade wasn't even looking at him. He was staring at the Tv, curled up, and didn't seem to be litsening.

Sighing heavily, he looked at the gun in his hand, deciding he should put it up. It wasn't something he should have down with Althea not feeling the greatest and Wade not even being able to put together sentences.

Walking away, he puts it in the closet, making sure to lock it like it was supposed to. God, there were so many weapons in here. It wouldn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that these guns weren't just for hunting or a hobby. No one had this much ammo when owning a gun collection that was "just for show."

Making his way to the kitchen, he stirred the boiling noodles, dumping them in the colander.

"Wo-wo?... wo-wo!"

"Woah woah?" He asks himself, looking up to see Wade pointing at the tv. Prince Eric had picked up Ariel and was now twirling her while smiling.

"Wo- wo?"

Tilting his head, he thought that perhaps this was cool to Wade. "Yeah, Wow buddy. That's amazing." He says but Wade gave him a dirty look. One that usually was his 'Bitch? Thats not what I said' squish of his non existing brows.

"Wo-wo. Ups?"

"Ups?"

"Wo-wo, Ups?" He grins, putting his hands up as he did the grabby motions again.

Oh. That made more sense. "You want me to do that to you?"

Wade nods, crawling about two feet before doing the hands again.

"Mmh... okay, but just once. And then I have to cook. Deal?"

Putting the butter in the pan, he came to pick him up, raising him up. The small squeal and the wide, sparkly eyes said all that Logan needed to know. When put back down, Wade claps.

"Yaay!"

Logan couldn't help but smirk. Really? That's all he wanted? "Heh.. yeah.. Yay." Was it that simple? This.. easy??

Vanessa made it sound so much more complicated when she talked about it. But then again.. I guess Vanessa wasn't as strong as him either, so it must have been difficult for her to hold him. The idea of her holding a 6'2 man on her hip made him snort.

She was strong, obviously, most dancers had to be, but dancers were lean and nimble as well. Logan was much more on the heavier side, so it was far easier for him.

"More?"

"More ups?" He asks, despite seeing his hands reach up. It wasn't the fact that he didn't know. Rather, he wanted confirmation.

"Wo-wo, Ups!" He smiles, excited and happy to be given the attention.

"Ok, ok, but last time, alright?" With another nod, Logan picks him up again. This time, Wade wraps his arms around him tight, nuzzling him again.

Sighing, Logan rubs his back, letting his chin go to the top of his head. "I can't hold you forever, you know... I have stuff to do.." he mumbles, bouncing just a bit in his knees, keeping his arm under his bottom so he didn't drop him.

"You're a good kid, Wade but I really do have to cook."

The whine that comes out of Wade is desperate for attention, lonely even. As if he just told Wade he was leaving and never coming back ever again.

"I come."

"No, sweetheart.. you'll get burned." The bouncing stops as he tries to set Wade down but he holds onto him like a kitten whos afraid of being dropped too far.

"Come on, let go. You'll be okay in here. See look. She's using a fork as a comb. Isn't that funny?" Logan says, trying to distract him enough to stay put. Vanessa wasn't kidding about the wanting held part. He was quite literally clinging to him like his life depended on it.

"Alright, get off. Here- do you want this? Take it." Putting him down, he took his hoodie off with him, letting him hold it as he stood. "There. Now stay. Im trying to make you some noodles, bub."

Finally getting to walk away, the look on his face hurt his chest.. just a bit anyway. The way he watched him go with such sad eyes and clutching the hoodie close to him. As if he was abandoning him.

Eh. He'd be fine. He could still see him in the kitchen so there wasn't really any reason to worry.

In said small kitchen, Logan put together the sauce, butter, and some seasonings, starting to stir it when he glanced towards the tv, doing a double take because Wade was missing.

"Wade?" He says, only to be met with him tugging on his jeans. The sight was something he wasn't prepared for, Wade put his hoodie on, and it was too big for him by at least two sizes. "Wo-wo!"

"Woah woah huh... wait, is that me?" He asks, tilting his head. "It's an L, bud. L" he made the L noise for him. "Lo-Lo."

"Wo-wo."

His eyes roll. "What ever. Come on, kid get out of the kitchen. You're gonna burn yourself."

This lasted about 2 seconds before Wade came back in. "Ups?"

At this point, dinner was practically done. Now, just have to finish it up and serve. "Fine... but don't touch anything."

"Yaaay!!" He claps, reaching up only to get scooped up and put on his hip, holding him with one arm, the other stiring.

"Yeah... yay.. fuckin' brat.." Wade was always getting what he wanted.

Wade giggles, holding his neck and once again snuggling up to him.

"Yeah, yeah, that's enough. Just be good. Don't touch. Ouches."

"Ow?"

"Yup. Ow."

So now, here was Logan, an almost 400 pound man holding 150 pound 6'2 guy on his hip, stiring and plating dinner. With his head on his shoulder, Wade calmed down immensely from being carried, just watching what Logan was doing and silent.

Dipping his finger into the sauce, Logan held it up. "Do you like this?"

Taking the finger in his mouth, Wade immediately made a 'mmmh' noise, nodding.

"Good. Do you want it on the side or on top of your noodles?"

" 'op."

" 'kay." Putting the sauce on top, he began to make Als.

" 'essy?"

"Huh?" He asks, not sure.

" 'essy??" Wade points to the plate.

"No. Mama's."

"Mama?"

"Mhm. Wo- wo's." Logan points to his own.

"Ooooh! Yummies."

"Yup.. Yummies..." he says, only to become embarrassed, face heating up as he grunts. Man... damn this baby talk..

____

A little later, after dinner, Wade came out of the room, looking almost ashamed, wearing Logan's x-men athletics department hoodie, the back saying 'HOWLETT' in big letters.

He was playing with his hands as he came to him. "Hey.."

Glancing away from the Tv, Logan was a bit confused, Not now sure if he was still small or not. "Hey?"

"I-.. im sorry.. for.. ealier. I know you don't like that stuff. I don't really.. know.." It seemed the farther he got into the apology, the tighter his voice got, his eyes becoming glossy.

"Hey-hey, stop. Why are you crying? You don't have anything to be sorry about. You're alright. Everything's okay, Wade. Sit." He says, patting next to him, but he just shook his head, rubbing his arm.

"No. I-it's not okay. You didn't ask for that. And you don't like t-taking care of me like that-" he wipes his eyes with the sleeves, clearly feeling bad about being so small infront of him.

"What? No, hold on. I never said that. I'll always take care of you." He says, a little frustrated that he would think differently.

"B-but you-"

"Shut the fuck up and come here."

Swallowing, He hesitantly sat on his lap, letting Logan pull him close and kiss the tears from his eyes. "Don't you ever say that shit again, you hear me? If I didn't want to take care of you, I would have left a long time ago. It was just.. odd at first. Because I've never seen it before. That's all. Just because something is new doesn't mean it's bad. You taught me that, idiot."

Sniffling, he shifts to nuzzle up under his chin again, curling up to be as small as possible, letting the man hold him in his arms. "I-i don't.." he heaves.

Logan is patiant, holding his cheek and rubbing his breath. "Shh.."

"I-i don't even know why I did that. I just.. it just happened." He whispers.

"That's alright. You don't have to know everything... a little heads up would be nice though." He mutters, pulling him up more to rub his cheek on him the way he liked.

Sniffling again, he smiles softly. "I'll try.. worst case senerio I just ask you to pick me up."

"Tell ya what. You ask me to pick you up and I will. Just... not during missions. I don't wanna have to slice a fucker in half because he shot you when you're small."

Wade giggles, his heart rate finally settling down as he listened to Logan's. "No promises.." letting out a big sigh, he let his body relax, taking a few deep breaths, nestling into him, the smell of the hoodie making him tired. "..I love you.. a-And thanks for not letting Al shoot me.."

Logan's eyes widened. He did hear his apology. A soft half lidded smile came to his face, glad that it wasn't for nothing. "I love you too.... cry baby."

"Can you guys shut up? Wheel of fortunes on." Al says, feeling much better that she too has had a nap and a good meal.

Sigh... that was their Althea.. keeping them humble.

The little giggle that came from him and the rythemed breathing following told Logan that he would be stuck in this spot for quite a while. Oh well... He was always up for a good nap.

"...Morons." The old woman says with a hint of fondness in her voice, hearing not one but two sets of snores. It was music to her ears.

[chaifootsteps]

How do you think mastermind would have went if it was stellitz?

Andre finds out about the book deal and tries to pull his trial shtick, but it's Stella who has to find out about it from TV (because she's not a Goetia and wasn't deemed important enough to invite) and intervenes at the last second. She spills the whole goddamn story, that Stolas was actually the one who's been raping Blitz for months.

If Viv can be self-indulgent, so can I.

[prettypinkporkchop]

Bite Me

Vessel x f!reader

Description: Sleep token started to work with you for helping them write their songs. You have a studio in your basement, which the band comes to use for the night. You and Ves do NOT get along... until you do.

Warnings: sexual, language, ves is daddy, IV cockblocks yo

The lights flicker as the thunder grows rougher. You close your book and toss it across your bed,letting out a sigh. You lean over and pull your phone off the charger. The screen turns on, and you see that Vessel had messaged you. You're confused because you both hate each other. He only texts to ask questions about upcoming studio dates. You guys don't have any more until a few months.

You open the message and realize it's a series of texts.

Vessel: sorry. Not interested.

Wrong person.

Don't ask annoying questions.

You raise an eyebrow and ignore it.

---

The next morning, you sit on the couch and watch TV. Your phone starts ringing. It's ii. You answer it. "Yes?" You ask.

"Sorry to bother you! Would it be okay if the band comes to use your studio?" He asks.

"Sure!" You reply.

You guys end the phone call, and you just chill and wait for them. While waiting, it starts to storm again. You groan, realizing it's bad enough that you could lose power.

Within a few minutes, the whole gang walk inside in a hurry, a bit wet from the rain.

"Phew! Thanks for letting us use your basement for a few hours." iii says with a smile.

"No problem! Just don't leave a mess. Also, we may lose power soon, so use your time while you can." You smile back and then return to your phone.

The guys scramble to your basement. Not even 30 minutes later, the power goes out. All you see is black and small flashes from the lightening through the window.

"Perfect." You mumble.

The door going to the basement opens, and the guys step out with their phones lights on.

"Bummer." IV chuckles.

"Sorry, guys.. we'll try again in-", you try to speak, but everyone's phone goes off. You check your phone and see a tornado warning. "Perfect." You mumble again.

"I'll light some candles. Would you mind if we stayed here until it passes?" iii asks, moving to the candles you have set out, pulling out a lighter from his pocket.

"I don't mind at all. It'll make me feel better, too. It's too dangerous to be on the road. You guys can pick who gets the spare room and the couches in here." You giggle.

"Yeah, I'd rather get sucked into the tornado than stay here longer than I intended." Vessel says.

"Good for you. You get the couch then." You deadpan.

"If you two start bickering again, I'm going to bed. I call the spare bedroom." ii snorts.

iii gets all of the candles lit. It sends a small bright orange tint in the living room and kitchen. He sighs and sits on the couch. Everyone turns off the flash on their phones.

"Alright, I'm gonna go to bed." You stand up and walk into your room.

You pass out for a few minutes but wake up to loud thunder that shakes your bed. "Shit." You hiss. Your throat is dry, so you make your way out into the hall to get into the kitchen. But as you close your door, you bump into a body.

"Watch it." Vessel hisses.

"Why're you up?" You ask with attitude.

"Can a man pee without being questioned?" He starts to walk to the kitchen.

You follow because you need some water. "What were the texts about?" You ask, opening the fridge.

Vessel scoffs and sits at the table. You turn to face him. The candles light up just enough to where you can see his face.

"Of course you'd ask. A girl texted me. I wasn't interested." He crosses his arms.

"Okay." You chug the water.

"Thirsty?" He snickers.

"Bite me." You toss the bottle into the trash can.

"Dare me?" He smirks.

You sigh and start to walk away. He gets out of the chair and grabs onto your neck, pushing you into the fridge.

"Say it again." He threatens.

His face is close. You're getting nervous. You can feel his breath against your lips. He smells so heavenly. His hand on your neck slightly turns you on.

"Bite me."

He smiles before bringing his hand to your jaw, pushing your head to the side to give him your full neck. He leans in and gently bites your skin.

You gasp and out of instinct, and without thinking, you grab onto his waist. Your thumbs are on the sides of his abs.

He pulls away and looks over you. "You want me, don't you?"

You do. You always have, even though he's a dick to you. But you know this won't mean anything to him. He's going to push you to the side after you give in. You're just another girl he can get with. You wiggle your way out of his arms and look over him with shock. Just as you do so, the lights cut back on. "I.. better turn off the lights so that they don't wake up in there." You point toward the living room.

Vessel nods his head and stands in place. He watches you move around to the living room and switch off the lights.

You go back into the kitchen and blow out the candles. You walk over to the stove and turn on the small light underneath it. You ignore Vessel and begin to make your way back into the hallway. You walk into your room but you hear him follow behind you.

"You didn't answer my question." He closes the door behind him.

You sit down on your bed and look up at him. "You don't like me." You reply.

"You think so?" He crosses his arms and smirks.

"You're arrogant, cocky, and so mean to me! You know you're irresistible, and you can get anyone you want! But I'm not a toy, Vessel." You watch his face straighten out from his smirk.

Vessel steps in front of your legs that dangle from the side of your bed. He bends down to reach your level. He looks up at you with soft eyes. "I don't know how to love properly. You scare me." He whispers.

You're taken aback. Is he admitting he's had feelings for you? What a weird way to show them.

"I haven't been with anyone since I laid my eyes on you last year. I am disgusted by other women who aren't you."

"What made you have a change of heart tonight?" You ask shyly.

"The song we were working on before the lights went out, I wrote thinking of you. When you said, 'bite me', I lost my mind." His hands grab your outer thighs. His thumbs rub your skin.

His touch sends fire through your soul and mind. You reach to put his face in your hands. You run your thumb over his bottom lip. His eyes remain on yours, letting you do what you want at the moment.

"Bite me." You smile.

He smiles as well, chuckling darkly. He pushes you back onto the bed and hovers over you. You can't help but wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. His hand grabs under your thigh and pushes it down.

"Needy." He breathes on your neck. His tongue meets your collarbone and slowly makes its way up to your jaw. His kisses your neck softly before biting on your skin again.

His simple touches already send you into bliss. He hasn't even done much yet, and you're already mushy in your head. You lean back and softly whimper as he sucks on your skin.

He lets go of your skin and looks down at you. You see a whole change in the way he looks at you. He bends down and kisses you. His lips play with yours as you begin to push further and shove your tongue in his mouth.

He breathes in deeply through his nose and grabs your throat with a small pressure. His hand grabs your boob through your shirt.

You can feel his boner against your thigh, which you decide to take advantage of your position and buck your hips against him.

He groans and moves his hand down to your waist, pushing your body down against the bed to keep your still. "Fuck.." He pulls away from your lips.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Are you awake?" It's IV.

"Y-yeah.." You say.

Vessel sighs and moves to sit next to your heavy breathing body.

"The storm blew over. Do you know where Ves is?" He asks.

Before you can say anything, Vessel yells, "Yeah! I'm in here trying to make her feel good. Leave without me."

You blush and cover your face.

The footsteps slowly walk away from your door.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

All the books I reviewed in 2024

I reviewed 26 books this year: 15 novels, 5 nonfiction books, and 6 graphic novels. Even though I feel perennially behind on my reading (and objectively, I do have 10 linear feet of "to be read" books on the shelf), I think this is a pretty good haul.

Books are pretty much the ideal gift, if you ask me. Of course, I'm biased as a former bookseller and library worker, and as an author (of course) – I had three more books come out in 2024 (see the end of this post for details).

I started a lot more than 26 books this year. Long ago, I figured life was too short for books I wasn't enjoying, and I'm pretty ruthless about putting books down partway through if I think they're not going to reward finishing them. I probably start 10 books for every one I finish. However, I do review more than 90% of the books I get through. It's rare for me to keep reading a book all the way to the end if I'm not enjoying it enough to unconditionally recommend it. I rarely review books I don't like – there's not really any point in cataloging the list of books I think you won't enjoy reading, and most books I don't like very much are broken in ways that are too banal to comment upon.

The list below is pretty great, but if you're looking for more, here's the haul from 2023:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/01/bookmaker/#2023-in-review

NOVELS

I. Cahokia Jazz by Francis Spufford

A fucking banger: it's a taut, unguessable whuddunit, painted in ultrablack noir, set in an alternate Jazz Age in a world where indigenous people never ceded most the west to the USA. It's got gorgeously described jazz music, a richly realized modern indigenous society, and a spectacular romance. It's amazing.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/04/cahokia/#the-sun-and-the-moon

II. After World by Debbie Urbanski

An unflinching and relentlessly bleak tale of humanity's mass extinction, shot through with pathos and veined with seams of tragic tenderness and care. Sen Anon – the story's semi-protagonist – is 18 years old when the world learns that every person alive has been sterilized and so the human race is living out its last years.

The news triggers a manic insistence that this is a good thing – long overdue, in fact – and the perfect opportunity to scan every person alive for eventual reincarnation as virtual humans in an Edenic cloud metaverse called Gaia. That way, people can continue to live their lives without the haunting knowledge that everything they do makes the planet worse for every other living thing, and each other. Here, finally, is the resolution to the paradox of humanity: our desire to do good, and our inevitable failure on that score.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/18/storyworker-ad39-393a-7fbc/#digital-human-archive-project

III. Jonathan Abernathy You Are Kind by Molly McGhee

A dreamlike tale of a public-private partnership that hires the terminally endebted to invade the dreams of white-collar professionals and harvest the anxieties that prevent them from being fully productive members of the American corporate workforce.

We meet Jonathan as he is applying for a job that he was recruited for in a dream. As instructed in his dream, he presents himself at a shabby strip-mall office where an acerbic functionary behind scratched plexiglass takes his application and informs him that he is up for a gig run jointly by the US State Department and a consortium of large corporate employers. If he is accepted, all of his student debt repayments will be paused and he will no longer face wage garnishment. What's more, he'll be doing the job in his sleep, which means he'll be able to get a day job and pull a double income – what's not to like?

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/08/capitalist-surrealism/#productivity-hacks

IV. The Book of Love by Kelly Link

If you've read Link's short stories (which honestly, you must read), you know her signature move: a bone-dry witty delivery, used to spin tales of deceptive whimsy and quirkiness, disarming you with daffiness while she sets the hook and yanks. That's the unmistakeable, inimitable texture of a Kelly Link story: deft literary brushstrokes, painting a picture so charming and silly that you don't even notice when she cuts you without mercy.

Turns out that she can quite handily do this for hundreds of pages, and the effect only gets better when it's given space to unfold.

It's a long and twisting mystery about friendship, love, queerness, rock-and-roll, stardom, parenthood, loyalty, lust and duty.

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/13/the-kissing-song/#wrack-and-roll

V. Lyorn by Steven Brust

The seventeenth book in Steven Brust's long-running Vlad Taltos series. For complicated reasons, Vlad has to hide out in a theater. Why a theater? They are shielded from sorcery, as proof against magical spying by rival theater companies, and Vlad is on the run from the Left Hand of the Jhereg – the crime syndicate's all-woman sorceress squad – and so he has to hide in the theater.

The theater is mounting a production of a famous play that's about another famous play. The first famous play (the one the play is about – try and follow along, would you?) is about a famous massacre that took place thousands of years before. The play was mounted as a means of drumming up support for the whistleblower who reported on the massacre and was invited to a short-term berth in the Emperor's death row as a consequence.

The plot is a fantastic, fast-handed caper story that has a million moving parts, a beautiful prestige, and a coup de grace that'll have you cheering and punching the air.

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/09/so-meta/#delightful-doggerel

VI. Till Human Voices Wake Us by Rebecca Roque

A teen murder mystery told in the most technorealist way. Cia's best friend Alice has been trying to find her missing boyfriend for months, and in her investigation, she's discovered their small town's dark secret – a string of disappearances, deaths and fires that are the hidden backdrop to the town's out-of-control addiction problem.

Alice has something to tell Cia, something about the fire that orphaned her and cost her one leg when she was only five years old, but Cia refuses to hear it. Instead, they have a blazing fight, and part ways. It's the last time Cia and Alice ever see each other: that night, Alice kills herself.

Or does she? Cia is convinced that Alice has been murdered, and that her murder is connected to the drug- and death-epidemic that's ravaging their town. As Cia and her friends seek to discover the town's secret – and the identity of Alice's killer – we're dragged into an intense, gripping murder mystery/conspiracy story that is full of surprises and reversals, each more fiendishly clever than the last.

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/16/dead-air/#technorealism

VII. The Steerswoman by Rosemary Kirstein

Randall "XKCD" Munroe pitched me on this over dinner: "All these different people kept recommending them to me, and they kept telling me that I would love them, but they wouldn't tell me what they were about because there's this huge riddle in them that's super fun to figure out for yourself. "The books were published in the eighties by Del Rey, and the cover of the first one had a huge spoiler on it. But the author got the rights back and she's self-published it."

How could I resist a pitch like that? So I ordered a copy. Holy moly is this a good novel! And yeah, there's a super interesting puzzle in it that I won't even hint at, except to say that even the book's genre is a riddle that you'll have enormous great fun solving.

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/04/the-wulf/#underground-fave

VIII. Moonbound by Robin Sloan

Moonbound's protagonist is a "chronicler," a symbiotic fungus engineered to nestle in a human's nervous system, where it serves as a kind of recording angel, storing up the memories, experiences and personalities of its host. When we meet the chronicler, it has just made a successful leap from its old host – a 10,000-years-dead warrior who had been preserved in an anaerobic crashpod ever since her ship was shot out of the sky – into the body of Ariel, a 12-year-old boy who had just invaded the long-lost tomb.

This is doing fiction in hard mode, and Sloan nails it. The unraveling strangeness of Ariel's world is counterpointed with the amazing tale of the world the chronicler hails from, even as the chonicler consults with the preserved personalities of the heroes and warriors it had previous resided in and recorded.

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/11/penumbraverse/#middle-anth

IX. Fight Me by Austin Grossman

Aging ex-teen superheroes weigh the legacy of Generation X, in a work that enrobes its savage critique with sweet melancholia, all under a coating of delicious snark. The Newcomers – an amped-up ninja warrior, a supergenius whose future self keeps sending him encouragement and technical schematics backwards through time, and an exiled magical princess turned preppie supermodel – have spent more than a decade scattered to the winds. While some have fared better than others, none of them have lived up to their potential or realized the dreams that seemed so inevitable when they were world famous supers with an entourage of fellow powered teens who worshipped them as the planet's greatest heroes.

As they set out to solve the mystery of the wizard who gave the protagonist his powers, they are reunited and must take stock of who they are and how they got there (cue Talking Heads' "Once In a Lifetime").

The publisher's strapline for this book is "The Avengers Meets the Breakfast Club," which is clever, but extremely wrong. The real comp for this book isn't "The Breakfast Club," it's "The Big Chill."

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/01/the-big-genx-chill/#im-super-thanks-for-asking

X. Glass Houses by Madeline Ashby

Kristen is the "Chief Emotional Manager" for Wuv, a hot startup that has defined the new field of "affective computing," which is when a computer tells you what everyone else around you is really feeling, based on the irrepressible tells emitted by their bodies, voices and gadgets.

Managing Sumter through Wuv's tumultuous launch is hard work for Kristen, but at last, it's paid off. The company has been acquired, making Kristen – and all her coworkers on the founding core team – into instant millionaires. They're flying to a lavish celebration in an autonomous plane that Sumter chartered when the action begins: the plane has a malfunction and crashes into a desert island, killing all but ten of the Wuvvies.

As the survivors explore the island, they discover only one sign of human habitation: a huge, brutalist, featureless black glass house, which initially rebuffs all their efforts to enter it. But once they gain entry, they discover that the house is even harder to leave.

https://pluralistic.net/2024/08/13/influencers/#affective-computing

XI. The Sapling Cage by Margaret Killjoy

A queer coming-of-age tale in the mode of epic fantasy. Lorel wants to be a witch, but that's the very last of the adventurous trades to be strictly gender-segregated. Boys and girls alike run away to be knights, brigands and sailors, but only girls can become a witch. Indeed, Lorel's best friend, Lane, is promised to the witches, having been born to a witch herself.

Lorel has signed up for witching just as the land is turning against witches, thanks to a political plot by a scheming duchess who has scapegoated the witches as part of a plan to annex all the surrounding duchies, re-establishing the long-disintegrated kingdom with herself on the throne. To make things worse (for the witches, if not the duchess), there's a plague of monsters on the land, and the forests are blighted with a magical curse that turns trees to unmelting ice. This all softens up the peasantfolk for anti-witch pogroms.

So Lorel has to learn witching, even as her coven is fighting both monsters and the duchess's knights and the vigilante yokels who've been stirred up with anti-witch xenophobia.

https://pluralistic.net/2024/09/24/daughters-of-the-empty-throne/#witchy

XII. Blackheart Man by Nalo Hopkinson

A story that will make you drunk on language, on worldbuilding, and on its roaring, relentless plot. The action is set on Chynchin, a fantastic Caribbean island (or maybe Caribbeanesque – it's never clear whether this is some magical, imaginary world, or some distant future of our own). Chynchin is a multiracial, creole land with a richly realized gift economy that Hopkinson deftly rounds out with a cuisine, languages, and familial arrangements.

Chynchin was founded through a slave rebellion, in which the press-ganged soldiers of the iron-fisted Ymisen empire were defeated by three witches who caused them to be engulfed in tar that they magicked into a liquid state just long enough to entomb them, then magicked back into solidity. For generations, the Ymisen have tolerated Chynchin's self-rule, but as the story opens, a Ymisen armada sails into Chynchin's port and a "trade envoy" announces that it's time for the Chynchin to "voluntarily" re-establish trade with the Ymisen.

The story that unfolds is a staple of sf and fantasy: the scrappy resistance mounted against the evil empire, and this familiar backdrop is a sturdy scaffold to support Hopkinson's dizzying, phantasmagoric tale of psychedelic magic, possessed children, military intrigue, musicianship and sexual entanglements.

https://pluralistic.net/2024/08/20/piche/#cynchin

XIII. Julia by Sandra Newman

Julia is the kind of fanfic that I love, in the tradition of both The Wind Done Gone and Rosencrantz and Gildenstern Are Dead, in which a follow-on author takes on the original author's throwaway world-building with deadly seriousness, elucidating the weird implications and buried subtexts of all the stuff and people moving around in the wings and background of the original.

For Newman, the starting point here is Julia, an enigmatic lover who comes to Winston with all kinds of rebellious secrets – tradecraft for planning and executing dirty little assignations and acquiring black market goods. Julia embodies a common contradiction in the depiction of young women (she is some twenty years younger than Winston): on the one hand, she is a "native" of the world, while Winston is a late arrival, carrying around all his "oldthink" baggage that leaves him perennially baffled, terrified and angry; on the other hand, she's a naive "girl," who "doesn't much care for reading," and lacks the intellectual curiosity that propels Winston through the text.

This contradiction is the cleavage line that Newman drives her chisel into, fracturing Orwell's world in useful, fascinating, engrossing ways. Through Julia's eyes, we experience Oceania as a paranoid autocracy, corrupt and twitchy. We witness the obvious corollary of a culture of denunciation and arrest: the ruling Party of such an institution must be riddled with internecine struggle and backstabbing, to the point of paralyzed dysfunction. The Orwellian trick of switching from being at war with Eastasia to Eurasia and back again is actually driven by real military setbacks – not just faked battles designed to stir up patriotic fervor. The Party doesn't merely claim to be under assault from internal and external enemies – it actually is.

https://pluralistic.net/2024/09/28/novel-writing-machines/#fanfic

XIV. The Wilding by Ian McDonald

McDonald's first horror novel, and it's fucking terrifying. It's set in a rural Irish peat bog that has been acquired by a conservation authority that is rewilding it after a century of industrial peat mining that stripped it back nearly to the bedrock. This rewilding process has been greatly accelerated by the covid lockdowns, which reduced the human footprint in the conservation area to nearly zero.

Lisa's last duty before she leaves the bog and goes home to Dublin is leading a school group on a wild campout in one of the bog's deep clearings. It's a routine assignment, and while it's not her favorite duty, it's also not a serious hardship.

But as the group hikes out to the campsite, one of her fellow guides is killed, without warning, by a mysterious beast that moves so quickly they can barely make out its monstrous form. Thus begins a tense, mysterious, spooky as hell story of survival in a haunted woods, written in the kind of poesy that has defined McDonald's career, and which – when deployed in service of terror – has the power to raise literal goosebumps.

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/25/bogman/#erin-go-aaaaaaargh

XV. Polostan by Neal Stephenson

Not a spy novel, but a science fiction novel about spies in an historical setting. This isn't to say that Stephenson tramples on, or ignores spy tropes: this is absolutely a first-rate spy novel. Nor does Stephenson skimp on the lush, gorgeously realized and painstakingly researched detail you'd want from an historical novel.

Polostan raises the curtain on the story of Dawn Rae Bjornberg, AKA Aurora Maximovna Artemyeva, whose upbringing is split between the American West in the early 20th century and the Leningrad of revolutionary Russia (her parents are an American anarchist and a Ukrainian Communist who meet when her father travels to America as a Communist agitator). Aurora's parents' marriage does not survive their sojourn to the USSR, and eventually Aurora and her father end up back in the States, after her father is tasked with radicalizing the veterans of the Bonus Army that occupied DC, demanding the military benefits they'd been promised.

All of this culminates in her return sojourn to the Soviet Union, where she first falls under suspicion of being an American spy, and then her recruitment as a Soviet spy.

Also: she plays a lot of polo. Like, on a horse.

https://pluralistic.net/2024/11/04/bomb-light/#nukular

NONFICTION

I. A City on Mars by Kelly and Zach Weinersmith

Biologist Kelly Weinersmith and cartoonist Zach Weinersmith set out to investigate the governance challenges of the impending space settlements they were told were just over the horizon. Instead, they discovered that humans aren't going to be settling space for a very long time, and so they wrote a book about that instead.

The Weinersmiths make the (convincing) case that every aspect of space settlement is vastly beyond our current or reasonably foreseeable technical capability. What's more, every argument in favor of pursuing space settlement is errant nonsense. And finally: all the energy we are putting into space settlement actually holds back real space science, which offers numerous benefits to our species and planet (and is just darned cool).

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/09/astrobezzle/#send-robots-instead

II. Dark Wire by Joseph Cox

Cox spent years on the crimephone beat, tracking vendors who sold modded phones (first Blackberries, then Android phones) to criminal syndicates with the promise that they couldn't be wiretapped by law-enforcement.

He tells the story of the FBI's plan to build an incredibly secure, best-of-breed crimephone, one with every feature that a criminal would want to truly insulate themselves from law enforcement while still offering everything a criminal could need to plan and execute crimes.

This is really two incredible tales. The first is the story of the FBI and its partners as they scaled up Anom, their best-of-breed crimephone business. This is a (nearly) classic startup tale, full of all-nighters, heroic battles against the odds, and the terror and exhilaration of "hockey-stick" growth.

The other one is the crime startup, the one that the hapless criminal syndicates that sign up to distribute Anom devices find themselves in the middle of. They, too, are experiencing hockey-stick growth. They, too, have a fantastically lucrative tiger by the tail. And they, too, have a unique set of challenges that make this startup different from any other.

Cox has been on this story for a decade, and it shows. He has impeccable sourcing and encyclopedic access to the court records and other public details that allow him to reproduce many of the most dramatic scenes in the Anom caper verbatim.

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/04/anom-nom-nom/#the-call-is-coming-from-inside-the-ndrangheta

III. The Hidden History of Walt Disney World by Foxx Nolte

No one writes about Disney theme parks like Foxx Nolte; no one rises above the trivia and goes beyond the mere sleuthing of historical facts, no one nails the essence of what makes these parks work – and fail.

The history of Walt Disney World is also a history of the American narrative from the 1960s to the turn of the millennium, especially once Epcot enters the picture and Disney sets out to market itself as a futuristic mirror to America and the world. There's a doomed plan to lead the nation in the provision of an airport for the largely hypothetical short runway aircraft that never materialized, the Disney company's love-hate affair with Florida's orange growers, and the geopolitics of installing a permanent World's Fair, just as World's Fairs were disappearing from the world stage.

In focusing on the conflicts between different corporate managers, outside suppliers, and the gloriously flamboyant weirdos of Florida, Nolte's history of Disney World transcends amusing anaecdotes and tittle-tattle – rather, it illustrates how the creative sparks thrown off by people smashing into each other sometimes created towering blazes of glory that burn to this day.

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/15/disnefried/#dialectics

IV. Network Nation by Richard R John

An extremely important, brilliantly researched, deep history of America's love/hate affair with not just the telephone, but also the telegraph. It is unmistakably as history book, one that aims at a definitive takedown of various neat stories about the history of American telecommunications.

The monopolies that emerged in the telegraph and then the telephone weren't down to grand forces that made them inevitable, but rather, to the errors made by regulators and the successful gambits of the telecoms barons. At many junctures, things could have gone another way.

Most striking about this book were the parallels to contemporary fights over Big Tech trustbusting, in our new Gilded Age. Many of the apologies offered for Western Union or AT&T's monopoly could have been uttered by the Renfields who carry water for Facebook, Apple and Google. John's book is a powerful and engrossing reminder that variations on these fights have occurred in the not-so-distant past, and that there's much we can learn from them.

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/18/the-bell-system/#were-the-phone-company-we-dont-have-to-care

V. A Natural History of Empty Lots by Christopher Brown

A frustratingly hard to summarize book, because it requires a lot of backstory and explanation, and one of the things that makes this book so! fucking! great! is how skillfully Brown weaves disparate elements – the unique house he built in Austin, the wildlife he encounters in the city's sacrifice zones, the politics that created them – into his telling.

This series of loosely connected essays that explains how everything fits together: colonial conquest, Brown's failed marriage, his experience as a lawyer learning property law, what he learned by mobilizing that learning to help his neighbors defend the pockets of wildness that refuse to budge.

It's filled with pastoral writing that summons Kim Stanley Robinson by way of Thoreau, and it sometimes frames its philosophical points the way a cyberpunk writer would.

The kind of book that challenges how you feel about the crossroads we're at, the place you live, and the place you want to be.

https://pluralistic.net/2024/09/17/cyberpunk-pastoralism/#time-to-mow-the-roof

GRAPHIC NOVELS

I. Death Strikes by David Maass and Patrick Lay

"The Emperor of Atlantis," is an opera written by two Nazi concentration camp inmates, the librettist Peter Kien and the composer Viktor Ullmann, while they were interned in Terezin, a show-camp in Czechoslovakia that housed numerous Jewish artists, who were encouraged to make and display their work as a sham to prove to the rest of the world that Nazi camps were humane places.

Death Strikes was adapted by my EFF colleague Dave Maass, an investigator and muckraker and brilliant writer, who teamed up with illustrator Patrick Lay and character designer Ezra Rose (who worked from Kien and Ullmann's original designs, which survived along with the score and libretto).

The Emperor's endless wars have already tried Death's patience. Death brings mercy, not vengeance, and the endless killing has dismayed him. The Emperor's co-option drives him past the brink, and Death declares a strike, breaking his sword and announcing that henceforth, no one will die.

Needless to say, this puts a crimp in the Emperor's all-out war plan. People get shot and stabbed and drowned and poisoned, but they don't die. They just hang around, embarrassingly alive (there's a great comic subplot of the inability of the Emperor's executioners to kill a captured assassin).

While this is clearly an adaptation, Kien and Ullmann's spirit of creativity, courage, and bittersweet creative ferment shines through. It's a beautiful book, snatched from death itself.

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/23/peter-kien-viktor-ullmann/#terez

II. My Favorite Things Is Monsters Book Two by Emil Ferris

The long, long delayed sequel to the tale of Karen Reyes, a 10 year old, monster-obsessed queer girl in 1968 Chicago who lives with her working-class single mother and her older brother, Deeze, in an apartment house full of mysterious, haunted adults. There's the landlord – a gangster and his girlfriend – the one-eyed ventriloquist, and the beautiful Holocaust survivor and her jazz-drummer husband.

Ferris's storytelling style is dazzling, and it's matched and exceeded by her illustration style, which is grounded in the classic horror comics of the 1950s and 1960s. Characters in Karen's life – including Karen herself – are sometimes depicted in the EC horror style, and that same sinister darkness crowds around the edges of her depictions of real-world Chicago.

Book Two picks up from Book One's cliffhanger and then rockets forward. Everything brilliant about One is even better in Two – the illustrations more lush, the fine art analysis more pointed and brilliant, the storytelling more assured and propulsive, the shocks and violence more outrageous, the characters more lovable, complex and grotesque.

Everything about Two is more. The background radiation of the Vietnam War in One takes center stage with Deeze's machinations to beat the draft, and Deeze and Karen being ensnared in the Chicago Police Riots of '68. The allegories, analysis and reproductions of classical art get more pointed, grotesque and lavish. Annika's Nazi concentration camp horrors are more explicit and more explicitly connected to Karen's life. The queerness of the story takes center stage, both through Karen's first love and the introduction of a queer nightclub. The characters are more vivid, as is the racial injustice and the corruption of the adult world.

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/01/the-druid/#

III. So Long Sad Love by Mirion Malle

Cleo is a French comics creator who's moved to Montreal, in part to be with Charles, a Quebecois creator who helps her find a place in the city's tight-knit artistic scene. The relationship feels like a good one, with the normal ups and downs, but then Cleo travels to a festival, where she meets Farah, a vivacious and talented fellow artist. They're getting along great…until Farah discovers who Cleo's boyfriend is. Though Farah doesn't say anything, she is visibly flustered and makes her excuses before hurriedly departing.

This kicks off Cleo's hunt for the truth about her boyfriend, a hunt that is complicated by the fact that she's so far from home, that her friends are largely his friends, that he flies off the handle every time she raises the matter, and by her love for him.

Malle handles this all so deftly, showing how Cleo and her friends all play archetypal roles in the recurrent missing stair dynamic. It's a beautifully told story, full of charm and character, but it's also a kind of forensic re-enactment of a disaster, told from an intermediate distance that's close enough to the action that we can see the looming crisis, but also understand why the people in its midst are steering straight into it.

Packed with subtlety and depth, romance and heartbreak, subtext that carries through the dialog (in marvelous translation from the original French by Aleshia Jensen) and the body language in Malle's striking artwork.

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/25/missing-step/#the-fog-of-love

IV. Bea Wolf by Zach Wienersmith and Boulet

A ferociously amazingly great illustrated kids' graphic novel adaptation of the Old English epic poem, which inspired Tolkien, who helped bring it to popularity after it had languished in obscurity for centuries.

Weinersmith and Boulet set themselves the task of bringing a Germanic heroic saga from more than a thousand years ago to modern children, while preserving the meter and the linguistic and literary tropes of the original. And they did it!

There are some changes, of course. Grendel – the boss monster that both Beowulf and Bea Wulf must defeat – is no longer obsessed with decapitating his foes and stealing their heads. In Bea Wulf, Grendel is a monstrously grown up and boring adult who watches cable news and flosses twice per day, and when he defeats the kids whose destruction he is bent upon, he does so by turning them into boring adults, too.

The utter brilliance of Bea Wulf is as much due to the things it preserves from the original epic as it is to the updates and changes. Weinersmith has kept the Old English tradition of alliteration, right from the earliest passages, with celebrations of heroes like "Tanya, treat-taker, terror of Halloween, her costume-cache vast, sieging kin and neighbor, draining full candy-bins, fearing not the fate of her teeth. Ten thousand treats she took. That was a fine Tuesday."

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/24/awesome-alliteration/#hellion-hallelujah

V. Youth Group by Bowen McCurdy and Jordan Morris

A charming tale of 1990s ennui, cringe Sunday School – and demon hunting.

Kay is a bitter, cynical teenager who's doing her best to help her mother cope with an ugly divorce that has seen her dad check out on his former family. Mom is going back to church, and she talks Kay into coming along with her to attend the church youth group.

But this is no ordinary youth group. Kay's ultra-boring suburban hometown is actually infested with demons who routinely possess the townspeople, and that baseline of demonic activity has suddenly gone critical, with a new wave of possessions. Suddenly, the possessed are everywhere – even Kay's shitty dad ends up with a demon inside of him.

That's when Kay discovers that the youth group and its corny pastor are also demon hunters par excellence. Their rec-rooms sport secret cubbies filled with holy weapons, and the words of exorcism come as readily to them as any embarrassing rewritten devotional pop song. Kay's discovery of this secret world convinces her that the youth group isn't so bad after all, and soon she is initiated into its mysteries, including the existence of rival demon-hunting kids from the local synagogue, Catholic church, and Wiccan coven.

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/16/satanic-panic/#the-dream-of-the-nineties

VI. Justice Warriors: Vote Harder by Matt Bors and Ben Clarkson

Vote Harder sees Bubble City facing its first election in living memory, as the mayor – who inherited his position from his "powerful, strapping Papa" – loses a confidence vote by the city's trustees. They're upset with his plan to bankrupt the city in order to buy a laser powerful enough to carve his likeness into the sun as a viral stunt for the launch of his comeback album. The trustees are in no way mollified by the fact that he expects to make a lot of money selling special branded sunglasses that allow Bubble City (and the mutant hordes of the Uninhabited Zone) to safely look into the sun and see what their tax dollars bought.

So it's time for an election, and the two candidates are going hard: there's the incumbent Mayor Prince; there's his half-sister and ex-girlfriend, Stufina Vipix XII, and there's a dark-horse candidate Flauf Tanko, a mutant-tank cyborg that went rogue after a militant Home Owners Association disabled it and its owners abandoned it. Flauf-Tanko is determined to give the masses of the Uninhabited Zone the representation they've been denied for so long, despite the structural impediments to this (UZers need to complete a questionnaire, sub-forms, have three forms of ID, and present a rental contract, drivers license, work permit and breeding license. They also need to get their paperwork signed in person at a VERI-VOTE location, then wait 14 days to get their voter IDs by mail. Also, districts of 2 million or more mutants are allocated the equivalent of only 250,000 votes, but only if 51% of eligible voters show up to the polls; otherwise, their votes are parceled out to other candidates per the terms of the Undervoting and Apathy Allotment Act).

What unfolds is a funny, bitter, superb piece of political satire that could not be better timed.

https://pluralistic.net/2024/09/11/uninhabited-zone/#eremption-season

As I mentioned in the introduction to this roundup, I had three books out in 2024; a new hardcover, and the paperback editions of two books that came out in hardcover last year. There's more on the horizon – a new hardcover novel (PICKS AND SHOVELS) in Feb 2025, along with the paperback of my novel THE BEZZLE (also Feb 2025). I just turned in the manuscript for my next nonfiction book, ENSHITTIFICATION, which will also be adapted as a graphic novel. I'll also be shortly announcing the publication details for a YA graphic novel, a new essay collection and short story collection.

If you enjoy my work – the newsletter, the talks, the reviews – the best way to support me is to buy my books. I write for grownups, teens, middle-schoolers and little kids, so there's something for everyone!

I. The Lost Cause A solarpunk novel of hope in the climate emergency. "The first great YIMBY novel" -Bill McKibben. "Completely delightful…Neither utopian nor dystopian…I loved it" -Rebecca Solnit. A national bestseller!

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865946/thelostcause/

II. The Internet Con: How to Seize the Means of Computation A detailed disassembly manual for people who want to dismantle Big Tech. "A passionate case for 'relief from manipulation, high-handed moderation, surveillance, price-gouging, disgusting or misleading algorithmic suggestions. -Akash Kapur, New Yorker. Another national bestseller!

https://www.versobooks.com/products/3035-the-internet-con

III. The Bezzle. A seething rebuke of the privatized prison system that delves deeply into the arcane and baroque financial chicanery involved in the 2008 financial crash. "Righteously satisfying…A fascinating tale of financial skullduggery, long cons, and the delivery of ice-cold revenge." –Booklist. A third national bestseller!

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865878/thebezzle/

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

In this whole HnM saga Harry's psychology is more interesting to me than Meghan's.

She can be possibly explained as someone who has an over exaggerated sense of self-importance and wants more and more of everything she sees as above and beyond her reach. She is obsessed with how she is perceived, what others think of her. This is very obvious from some of her favourite words and phrases - "seeing through the lense of xyz", "bespoke" "curated through the lense of.." etc etc. She wants to be what someone will like, revere, aspire to be and hence she is fixated on the PR angle of everything from day1. As opposed to showing or sharing what she truly is and using that to build her brand (which any long-term successful pr strategy usually is based on)

Harry on the other hand ... !!

I think it's his paranoia, ego, insecurity and resentment that set the ball rolling on the clusterfuck that is megxit.

Some anons pointed out that William and Harry both did silly stupid kid things growing up but Harry was used as a scape goat while William was protected. I'd argue that whatever Harry did WAS indeed so stupid, so odd that it had to be reported while Williams behavior was more in step with normal teenage behavior, so it wasn't noteworthy enough (as compared to Harry or other royals)

I've read a lot of books on Diana - Ken wharf, sally bedel smith, lady c, Wendy berry, jepson. (I revisited them again when youtuber Vintage book reads did book reviews for these and realised I had read these).

A common theme that emerges from these is that William and Diana were more like a bunch of naughty children in cahoots than a traditional mother-child relationship. They did everything together, spent a lot of quality time, laughed, created mischief, watched tv, visited friends together etc. William was there for nearly all of Diana's major life moments and was an active witness to everything she went through - good, bad and crazy. She talked to him, she shared with him, she considered him to be a whole, independent person rather than just a little boy of 6, 8,10,12 or 15 years. She gave him a lot of importance.

Maybe because he came along when she was just about 20 and they sort of grew up together, but their bond was tight. They knew eachother as humans. He also, at a very young age, had an authoritative say in her life. His approval or disapproval mattered to her a great deal. She was utterly dependant on him emotionally.

From a psychology point of view we could argue that William was a proxy for Charles, her father, her mother and she had a dependent personality disorder with William as a surrogate for whatever she wanted emotionally that she couldn't demand from others. He being a child gave to her freely, uninhibitedly.

Harry on the hand came along much later so she was a more distant mother to him (because parenting was different in royal circles in the 80s than it is for us regular folks). His parents couldn't stand eachother, so he rarely saw them interacting lovingly or functioning as a unit. Probably why he doesn't understand how healthy relationships look, or why he was jealous of Catherine or the Wales kids. But he saw how Diana+William functioned. How cohesive they were. He was just a witness while those two were a unit.

And so he developed a more attention seeking personality to get his mother's attention (and in turn Williams). If William was on his side, so was his mother (that's a childs way of thinking).

If he wanted his mother, then William came as a package deal (because of the dynamics of Diana William relationship)

Her attention was never exclusive. Whatever she gave to Harry, William would have it too, or he would he would have it first or he would have more. (In terms of emotionality associated with her time or their quality time).

Now, he couldn't control that. But later in life when he saw (or thought he saw) the same dynamic in his royal life - The sausages, the bigger room, the quality time with granny, the army honours, the close friends, the wife, the kids, the bigger homes etc - that's when he could do something. If nothing, just pointing out that this disparity exists is a huge deal for an insecure, resentful person. The problem is t even the things that William gets, because those things are secondary. The problem become William who is the person who got those things. (Talk about unconscious bias, eh!)

In reality the age gap between the boys was barely 2 years. Outside of their little bubble with mum there wasn't much difference between the 2 brothers. They went everywhere together, they got everything together, they had the same friend circle, same likes and dislikes, same schools, same everything as kids. Mainly because of the kind of relationship their parents had they always had to either be with their mum or with their dad. Not much alone quality time without the other brother because the dynamics of the separation and their lifestyle meant the brothers were always grouped together.

Yet within that, William got quality as well as quantity, or that's how Harry the spectator saw it as. When it came to mum, William got more while Harry was just looking on.

In all the books I've mentioned above, it's always William who Diana chooses to do something with, they have some mischievous secret while Harry is barely mentioned, and usually as an afterthought. They got their tv dinners and tea parties and confidences and arguments, while Harry just took in that experience as a spectator. Like watching a movie as opposed to living in it.

He was happy as long as he got any attention. Whether it's Diana, Charles or the staff. So he goes alone and does his own thing mostly. He is indulged as any curious child is, but when he, he thinks that's extra attention. So in his mind he then becomes more important than William. So the child Harry thinks he alone knows he is better than William, no one else does, and that is his little secret.

Later after she died, they kids were teenagers. Their anchor had gone. But they were naturally at the point in life where they experiment and have new experiences. It's normal for teens to be angsty, angry, rebels, defy authority, try alcohol, sneak off, party etc.

But the problem was that Harry was doing that for attention. He was pulling away. His resentment against his brother was probably unconsciously growing but he didn't know that yet (still does not). As a kid he wondered why William got more of Diana and more of a respect that he did when they were the same. And as a teen he was angry why William, now without Diana the anchor, wasn't with him as much. He couldn't make friends or the ones that were appropriate. And the group he was in was always getting in trouble with drinks, drugs and idiotic shenaigans.

Nobody had ever told him what to do, he always just went along. And as a teen when he was expected to follow rules he couldn't understand the concept.

He was rudderless, clueless, aimless. Smoking at school, doing weed relentlessly, endlessly, binge drinking, bullying others, bullying his PPOs they are all bad things. It was abnormal behaviour. And as much as Harry likes to say "William did it too", he did not. William was not stumbling into sixth form drunk off of his arse. William wasn't doing drugs and shagging staff behind the pub, William was streaking naked through the house during his father's birthday. William wasn't making fun of other pupils. William wasn't stumbling out of pubs at age 15,16,18 and vomitting on passers by. Harry was.

Ad hominen fallacy is Harry's favorite defence mechanism. Doesn't make it acceptable, logical or necessarily true.

William on the hand seems to have gained some maturity and insights into human behaviors watching his mom and others who mingled with her. He was there after all, his opinions were caught, he probably thought he was the only one who could actually save her from herself and others trying to manipulate her.

He probably learnt early on that adults arnt always right, good or know everything because he had to think on his own. His sense of self from a very young age was acknowledged and respected so he later learnt to differentiate between confidence and ego (mainly because he had to, he was also alone without his anchor person). He had to become a person and find an identity that was away from his predestined path of becoming king one day.

He fought hard and was belligerent also (as per many courtiers) but I think that's because he also struggled a lot coming to terms with the path that was set for him since before birth. He didn't choose his life, he was born in this, so he tried to make it as much his own thing as he could. Which we see in how he operates today, how and how much he works, his choice in where they live, how he deals with his team, where he lives, how he keeps his family away from the toxicity, his relationship with the middltons etc.

Harry and William have both struggled and gone through some horrible life situations which needed them to grow up fast and choose a life path.

They chose the exact opposite.

Harry's jealousy stems from his childhood issue of seeing William being better adjusted with what he got versus he, Harry, having to begrudgingly, asked to be content.

[still-fatemeh]

THANKS FOR THE TAG ♡ (o´・∀・)o

Tags: @reapkusho @kaiserkisser @thegolden-tigeress (<= you're the mutual of two my mutuals so we're automatically friends now, bye)

tagged by @wellmanneredthief (a long time ago 🙈)

[idkyetxoxo]

Criston Cole - Crimson Shadows

Summary - She navigates her father's oppressive rule and her growing bond with a steward's son, who is determined to protect her at all costs. As their friendship deepens, the stakes rise, and the shadows of their past threaten to unravel everything.

Pairing - Criston Cole x Dondarrion reader

Warnings - Parental abuse

Word count - 2785

Masterlist for Criston • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

"Stop it!" I laughed, reaching up as Criston dangled my book just out of reach, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. I jumped again, trying to grab it, but he effortlessly pulled it higher, teasing me as usual.

"Criston Cole, I mean it!" I tried to sound stern, but my voice faltered with amusement. He only smirked, holding the book even further away.

Despite my protests, I couldn't truly be upset with him. 

It was only his second day of rigorous training to become a knight, and yet here I was, already distracting him from his duties. His dreams of knighthood were finally starting to take shape, and I was genuinely proud of him. 

But I couldn't help the ache of missing the way things used to be—the easy camaraderie we once shared when the days seemed endless, and we spent hours doing everything and nothing at all.

My father, Lord Dondarrion of Blackhaven, would never understand the bond we had. 

Criston's father was my father's steward, which meant we spent much of our childhood together, though our friendship had always been something I kept hidden from my father. 

I feared what he might do if he found out—after all, I knew all too well the harsh consequences of his displeasure.

"Promise to stop pestering me, and I'll give you back your precious book," Criston teased, his smile widening as he watched my frustration grow.

I huffed, crossing my arms in mock defeat before finally nodding. "Fine."

True to his word, he handed me the book, but I couldn't resist a parting shot—I swung it lightly against his stomach. He grunted in surprise, laughing, but then playfully shoved my shoulder in retaliation.

The movement was gentle, but I winced, drawing in a sharp breath as a wave of pain radiated from a bruise hidden beneath my gown. 

Criston's laughter faded instantly, his expression shifting from playful to concerned.

"What is it?" he asked, his voice soft but urgent as he studied me, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. I forced a smile, trying to brush it off.

"Nothing, I'm fine," I said hurriedly, pulling my gown tighter around my shoulders, hoping to conceal the telltale mark. But Criston wasn't so easily fooled.

"Show me," he demanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I shook my head, avoiding his gaze. "It's nothing, Criston. Really."

"Show me," he repeated, more firmly this time. His hand gently grasped my arm, pulling back the fabric just enough to reveal the dark purple bruise that marred my skin.

I looked away, my throat tightening. "It's nothing," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

"You told me he stopped," Criston said, his voice laced with pain and disbelief. "You swore it."

"It was just one last time," I murmured, the words bitter on my tongue. "I made a mistake... but he promised it won't happen again."

Criston's jaw clenched, his entire body going rigid with anger. "I'll kill him," he growled, his eyes flashing with fury. I stepped back quickly, my heart racing.

"You can't," I said firmly. "They'll have your head before you even draw your sword." I met his gaze with a steady, unyielding look, willing him to understand the danger he was putting himself in. 

After a tense moment, he exhaled, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Just... meet me later," I said, desperately trying to shift the conversation. "I'll sneak us some strawberry tarts, and we can watch the stars from my balcony like we used to."

Criston hesitated, his mind clearly still turning over thoughts of revenge. I gave him a pleading look, silently begging him to let it go, at least for now.

"Please?" I whispered.

After what felt like an eternity, he nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. A triumphant smile broke across my face, and before he could say anything else, I dashed away, eager to escape the moment.

As I rounded the corner, I collided with someone, sending my book tumbling to the floor. 

A low groan escaped my lips as I looked up to find one of my father's guards standing over me. His hand steadied me, his expression unreadable.

"Your father wishes to speak with you, my lady," he said, his voice flat.

I sighed, my heart sinking as I nodded. The brief reprieve I had with Criston was already slipping away, and I knew what awaited me with my father would be far less forgiving. 

Without a word, I followed the guard down the long, winding halls, dreading every step.

My father wasn't the sort of man to summon me casually, especially not when the guard's face had been so unreadable. I already knew something was wrong. 

He had that way about him—an air that could shift from stern to dangerous in the blink of an eye. And right now, I could feel the tension hanging in the air like a storm cloud ready to break.

When we reached the grand chamber doors, the guard stepped aside, gesturing for me to enter. I hesitated for a moment before gathering my courage and stepping inside. 

My father stood near the hearth, his back to me, staring into the crackling flames. Even without seeing his face, I could sense his mood—it was dark, simmering with barely restrained anger.

"Where were you?" His voice was cold, flat. He didn't bother to turn around.

My pulse quickened, and I fought to keep my voice steady. "I was... just reading in the gardens, Father." The lie felt weak even as I said it. He knew me too well.

He slowly turned to face me, his sharp eyes narrowing. "The gardens?" he repeated, his tone full of suspicion. "Do you think me a fool, girl?"

I swallowed hard, my fingers instinctively tightening around the fabric of my dress. I knew I had to be careful, but I couldn't stop the words from tumbling out. "I swear, I was only—"

"Enough," he snapped, his voice cutting through my excuse like a knife. He took a step forward, his presence looming over me. "I've been told you were with that steward's son. Criston Cole."

My heart dropped into my stomach. Of course, he knew. 

I cursed myself for not being more careful, for not hiding my time with Criston better. I opened my mouth to explain, but no words came out.

"You've been warned about him, haven't you?" His voice was dangerously low now, each word dripping with fury. "How many times must I remind you of your place? You think you can defy me—sneak around like some common girl with a steward's son?"

I took a step back, my pulse pounding in my ears. "Father, please, it's not what you think. We're just friends, nothing more—"

"Friends?" he spat the word as if it disgusted him. "I'll not have my daughter debasing herself by consorting with the likes of him. He's beneath you—his family is beneath us."

Before I could defend myself, his hand struck across my face, the force of the blow sending me stumbling backward. The sharp sting spread across my cheek, but I had no time to recover before he grabbed my arm, dragging me closer.

"You think you can lie to me?" His grip was iron, his fingers digging into my skin as he pulled me into the centre of the room. "You think you can disrespect me, after all I've done for you? For this family?"

"Father, please!" I cried out, trying to break free from his hold, but he was too strong. His fury was too much.

Another blow came, this one harder than the first, and I crumpled to the floor, my head swimming as pain radiated through my body. 

My vision blurred, and I could barely make out his silhouette towering over me, his anger palpable, like a force suffocating the air around us.

"You will learn respect," he snarled. "I've allowed you far too much freedom. No more."

Before he could strike again, a loud voice cut through the tension like a blade. "Enough!"

Criston burst into the room, his eyes blazing with fury. He crossed the space between us in a flash, placing himself between me and my father. I could see the anger burning in his face, the way his fists clenched at his sides as he stood protectively in front of me.

"How dare you!" my father roared, his face red with rage. "You dare enter my home unannounced? To interfere with my family matters?"

Criston didn't flinch. "I won't stand by and let you hurt her," he said, his voice steady, though his eyes were wild with emotion. "I don't care if you're her father—you have no right to treat her like this."

My father's expression darkened, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. 

"You forget your place, boy," he growled, taking a step toward Criston. "You may be training to be a knight, but you are still the son of a steward. I pay for your training. Your father answers to me. So watch yourself."

Criston didn't move, didn't back down. "And you'd do well to remember, my lord, that no knight worthy of the title would ever stand by and allow an innocent woman to be harmed."

The room fell into a tense silence, the air crackling with the threat of violence. 

My father's jaw clenched, his eyes flickering between me and Criston. I could see the war waging inside him—his fury against the need to maintain control. 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he let out a low, dangerous chuckle.

"You think you're brave, boy?" he said, his voice soft but venomous. "You think you can challenge me in my own home?"

Criston didn't waver. "I think someone has to."

For a moment, I feared my father would strike him, that he'd lose control completely and the situation would spiral into something far worse. 

But instead, he sneered, his lips curling into a cruel smile.

"Get out of my sight," he snarled, his voice dripping with disdain. "Both of you."

Criston hesitated, his eyes searching mine for a brief moment, but I gave him a small nod. 

Slowly, he turned, pulling me gently to my feet. I was shaking, my body aching from my father's blows, but Criston's steady presence gave me strength.

As we left the room, my father's voice followed us, low and menacing. "And remember this, Criston Cole: cross me again, and no training, no knighthood, will save you."

Once we were out of my father's sight, Criston led me down the hall in silence. The cold stone walls seemed to press in on us, the weight of what had just happened hanging heavy in the air. 

I could feel the throbbing sting from where my father had struck me, but the ache inside was worse—the feeling of shame, the helplessness that always came with these moments. 

It was all too familiar.

Criston's grip on my hand was firm, steady, though his steps were tense with barely restrained anger. He pulled me into an alcove just outside one of the empty chambers, away from prying eyes. 

The flickering light from a nearby torch cast long shadows on his face, but I could see the storm in his eyes.

"Let me see," he said softly, his voice rough with concern. He hadn't even given himself a moment to breathe after standing up to my father. His focus was entirely on me.

"I'm fine," I whispered, but the words felt hollow even to my own ears. 

My body betrayed me, trembling with the lingering shock of the encounter. I tried to straighten up, to show some semblance of strength, but Criston wasn't having it.

"You're not fine," he said, more firmly this time. His fingers gently brushed against my cheek, his thumb carefully tracing the edge of the bruise that was already forming from my father's slap. 

His touch was light, almost reverent as if he feared hurting me even more. "Gods, I'm sorry... I should've—"

"Don't," I cut him off, forcing a smile that felt weak and brittle. "You couldn't have done anything."

Criston's jaw tightened, and for a moment, he just stared at me, his chest rising and falling with barely controlled breaths. The helplessness in his eyes hurt almost as much as the bruises on my skin. 

He was used to fighting battles with swords and shields, training to become a knight and face his enemies head-on. But this? This was a fight he couldn't win, no matter how much he wanted to.

"I hate him for this," he said through clenched teeth, his voice thick with rage. "I hate that he gets away with it. That he can just—" His words broke off, and he shook his head, his hand hovering over my shoulder as if he wasn't sure how to touch me without causing more pain.

I closed my eyes, my body still trembling from the aftermath of the violence. 

For so long, I had kept it hidden from Criston, from everyone. The bruises, the fear. I thought I could handle it, that it was my burden to bear, but now that he knew, now that he had seen what my father was capable of, I felt raw, exposed. Vulnerable.

"I'm used to it," I whispered, the words slipping out before I could stop them. "It's always been like this. I just— I try not to make him angry, and sometimes I fail."

Criston's eyes darkened with anguish, his hand dropping from where it had been hovering to gently grasp my uninjured arm. "You shouldn't have to be used to this. No one should."

I wanted to shrug off his concern, to tell him it didn't matter, that I'd survived worse. 

But standing there in front of him, I couldn't. Not with the way he was looking at me like I was something fragile that had been shattered.

"I just—" My voice wavered, and I swallowed hard. "I just don't want you to get hurt because of me."

Criston's expression softened, his anger giving way to something gentler, though no less fierce. He cupped my face, his thumb brushing away a tear I hadn't even realized had fallen.

"You don't need to protect me from him," he said quietly, his voice steady but filled with emotion. 

"I'm not afraid of your father, not for myself. But for you..." His voice broke just slightly, and he shook his head. "I can't bear seeing you like this."

I bit my lip, feeling the warmth of his hand against my skin, the way his presence made everything feel a little less heavy, a little less hopeless. 

"You shouldn't have stood up to him," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "He's dangerous, Criston. You have no idea what he's capable of."

"I don't care," he said firmly, his eyes locking onto mine. "I won't let him hurt you again."

I shook my head, trying to make him understand. "You don't get it. He controls everything. Your training, your future as a knight—he could take it all away. One word from him, and it's over."

Criston's eyes flashed with defiance, and for the first time, I saw not the boy I had grown up with, but the man he was becoming—the knight he was destined to be. 

"Let him try," he said, his voice hard, resolute. "I'd rather lose everything than stand by and watch him hurt you."

Tears welled up in my eyes again, and this time I couldn't hold them back. "Criston, please... I don't want you to lose your dreams because of me. This is my fight, not yours."

He gently tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. "It's our fight now," he said, his voice filled with a quiet determination. "You're not alone in this. I won't let you be."

For a long moment, we just stood there, the silence between us heavy with everything unspoken. 

His hand still cradled my face, and I leaned into his touch, finding comfort in the warmth of his palm, in the steadiness of his presence.

Criston wiped away another tear and then, gently, carefully, he pulled me into his arms. I rested my head against his chest, feeling the strong, steady beat of his heart beneath my cheek. 

For the first time in a long time, I didn't feel entirely helpless. I didn't feel alone.

"I'll figure something out," he murmured softly into my hair, his voice a low, comforting hum. "I promise. We'll find a way."

I wanted to believe him, wanted to hold onto the hope he was offering, but deep down, I knew the reality we faced. 

My father wasn't a man who let go of his power easily, and the cost of defying him could be steep—for both of us.

But as Criston held me close, his arms wrapped protectively around me, I let myself believe, if only for a moment, that maybe there was a way out. 

That maybe, together, we could find it.

A/n - National support hotline (Text HELLO to 50808 for free) 💙

[localboobsenjoyer]

It wasn't the first time you were booked by a woman, but it was still unusual. Usually it's just men with mommy issues that require your unique services. Being the best (only) lactation sex worker certainly had its pros. Many of your clients are so deep into this fetish that just sucking your milk is enough for them. You kind of like that aspect of the job. Your massive, lactating boobs feel like a superpower to you. Few women have breasts as big as you, and even fewer of them can even lactate, let alone match your milk production. And thanks to what has now become your job, your boobs started to grow again, thanks to all that extra stimulation. Your client was already there once you arrived in your room. She was already topless. She was quite cute, but unfortunately for her, very flat. That was a pity because some boobs would have really completed her figure.

That said, you weren't there for judging her. After getting yourself topless as well, you begin the session. You were immediately blown away. The way she sucked your breast was unlike anyone else. Within moments, your pussy was drenched. It felt really awesome. She went on for a lot longer than you were expecting. Despite her slender body and tiny frame, she drank more than any other client you ever had. So much so that she literally sucked you dry. This had happened before after a busy day, but never before after just one session. "I'm sorry, but there is nothing left. You somehow drank all the milk for today; there is nothing left." For the first time all day, she looked at you in the eyes and said, with an evil grin on her face, "I'm just getting started; your milk was just the beginning." She said, beginning to suck even strongly from your empty bosom. Nothing has ever felt as good as what you were feeling right now, so much so that you passed away. You dont know after how much time you woke up, but you could feel some liquid being sprayed on your face. You rose quickly due to how much lighter you felt. But you weren't ready for what just happened. Your previously flatchest client now sported a massive pair of boobs even bigger than yours. She was also heavily lactating. You only just realized that the liquid to wake up to was milk.

Your milk most likely. Because she stole it all. And not just that. You felt so light because, not happy with your milk, she also stole your size. Your previously impressive bosom was now reduced to nothingness. You were paralyzed. She told something about revenge—what's right and what's wrong—but you were lost. Your breasts were gone. Your milk was gone. Your life was gone. Even years later, both your boobs and milk never came back. And you have never seen that girl since.

[rita-repulsa-ke]

The Baby

My headcanon around the circumstances of Nicky's birth. This one is rough, warnings for infidelity, discussion of abortion, some stabbing and Agatha making the worst possible choices.

It was the oldest story in the book. One day, Agatha went to bed with someone.

Doesn’t matter who. Oh, he was charming and pretty and magically powerful, capable of almost matching her, but that wasn’t the reason.

If asked, she would have said there was no real reason. That wasn’t true. Instead, it was the normal mix of petty, stupid, human reasons. To prove she could, to prove she wasn’t bound as tightly as she knew she was. Above all else, prove to herself that someone would love her regardless, that there was nothing she could do to drive Rio away.

It wasn’t very good sex. It wasn’t who she wanted. She regretted it in the morning.

She met Rio on the road outside of town, Death in her green witch guise, her eyes dark with a fury that would have terrified anyone else.

In truth, it terrified Agatha, but for different reasons. Last night, she had been cruel, even for her. She had pushed Rio away, said nasty things to get her to leave and now she was afraid to find out what she had wrought.

So she did what she always did. She tried to pretend it hadn’t happened. “There you are! Let’s get going.”

“Agatha.” The world could hold still when Rio wanted it to, freeze-frame. Her lover's gaze pinned her in place, speared her through, and she could only barely manage to force a cocky smile to her lips.

“…do you want to stab me about it?" she asked. "Sometimes that makes you feel better.”

Rio sauntered forward, knife in hand. In her eyes were ugly promises, evisceration, vivisection, disembowelment, and for the first time in a very, very long time, Agatha was actually afraid of her lover, struck by the awareness that she couldn't stop Rio from doing whatever she wanted, not if she really wanted it. "You know, Ags, I think I do?"

"…Or," Agatha said, taking a step back and not liking the way that made a hungry smile play across Death’s face. "Or maybe we could talk about it?"

"What should we say? Let's see, what did you say last night? That you're a free woman, that you don't owe me anything, that you can do as you wish…"

Had she said all of that? It did sound like her and maybe she had been a touch intoxicated, on magic as much as drink, and she'd been having a good time and Rio had been ruining it, glowering and snarling and—

Her breathing was coming too fast. "Rio, wait."

The remaining space between them vanished, and Rio's knife cut into her bicep, deep into muscle, made her cry out even as a vine lashed around her leg, tore flesh in her calf and she was reminded that she really, really hated pain. "Rio, stop!" she said.

"Nope," Rio said, and here was another vine lashing out at her, thorns scraping her ribs, cutting her dress, leaving gashes on her skin.

Agatha blasted the vines with power, raw, messy. "Hey, come on," she said, her voice gone a touch shrill, heart in her mouth, but not in the literal sense she suddenly worried it might be. "It's me," she protested.

Rio's power hit her full in the chest, a river of black and green, slamming her back into a tree hard enough that she felt something in her chest crack. Her lover stared at her, expressionless, shaking her head and clicking her tongue.

Agatha hated pain and now her whole body was suffused with it, a sick, full-body throbbing, mixed with a side of terror, something else she hated. "Stop," she snarled, throwing power at Rio, aware she wasn't thinking straight. Death simply stepped around the blast, shoved her against the tree with a knife to her throat.

"Make me," Rio said, very softly. "Go ahead, Agatha. Show off for me."

Agatha couldn't seem to stop shaking. "…You're scaring me," she murmured and that did work, something in Rio's expression softened, became briefly confused and the knife at her throat didn't waver, but Rio's forehead pressed against hers and she could hear the other woman's unnecessary breathing, fast, ragged, frantic with emotion.

"Even for you, Ags. Even for you," she murmured.

Agatha saw it. The opportunity to, at least temporarily, fix it. To gather Rio to her, to touch her, kiss her, stroke her hair and sink to the ground wrapped around each other, a sure way to get them both on the same page.

But she was hurt, and scared and there was blood in her mouth, her own blood, and more than anything else, she despised feeling powerless. "Get off me," she snapped, imperious and tried not to cringe back as Rio shifted to stare at her, eyes filled with so many ugly deaths, strangulations, drownings and beatings, countless forms of stabbing.

"Beloved, at least apologize," Rio murmured, a hint of unpleasant laughter in her voice.

"No," Agatha snapped, her fury overwhelming her sense. "Why should I?" She saw the way Rio's eyes narrowed. "Going to make me? Is that what you want? Me cringing at your feet, begging for Death's pardon?"

The hurt in Rio's eyes eclipsed anything Agatha had ever seen. "…Apologize because you love me," Rio whispered and Agatha knew she should. This was where she should bend, should give in, not because she was afraid, but because she did love Rio, more than she'd ever thought possible.

But if there was one thing Agatha Harkness was excellent at, it was driving away everyone who'd ever loved her. She'd almost believed she couldn't do it with Death, that Rio really would never leave her. Now she saw an opportunity to prove her fundamental beliefs about the world right, at the expense of everything else she'd ever wanted.

"Make me," she sneered.

Rio's breath, unneeded, stopped. “I could,” she said after another long, frozen moment, her voice a sepulchral whisper, cold and vast. “I choose not to.” She turned away. “Agatha, what are you going to do about the baby?”

“What ba— “ Agatha said, but Rio was already gone.

Agatha waited until she was sure Death wasn't going to come back, then sunk down and sobbed like a child, from the pain and the fear, but more than anything, from the desperate desire to have Rio back.

Eventually, though, she had to get up and keep moving. What else could she do?

So she was pregnant. That was inconvenient, but barely so. She was a witch, she knew how to prepare a draught that would fix the problem, make her body miscarry naturally.

She mixed the whole thing together, and then stared at it. She’d never considered motherhood for even a moment prior to this one. She didn’t like children.

But all at once, she wanted to. She wanted to keep the child inside her. She wanted to learn their name, find out what delighted them, help them along their journey and never, ever make them feel unwanted.

And she was immortal. Eighteen years to raise a child to adulthood was a blip to her. Why shouldn’t she?

“I’m keeping it,” she told the air. “I’m going to keep the baby.”

Come back, she didn’t say. Do it with me. You’ve always liked children more than I have. Come on this journey with me like you have all the others.

She didn’t say any of it. It was too vulnerable, too weak, the opportunity for rejection too costly.

Anyway, Rio would be back. She was always going on and on about how she loved Agatha, would never leave her. She’d be back.

Only she wasn't.

Oh, she was there. Agatha could sense her, especially when she killed witches. She could feel Death watching and she did show off a little, tried to impress her invisible lover or make her laugh, though she never knew if she succeeded.

And sometimes she would wake to find the fire had been banked. As she got heavier and the pain got worse, her body changing on her, she found other signs that she was never really alone. Convenient herbs or the dead animals from her traps, cleaned and ready for cooking. Once a whole pot of willowbark tea, which made her sob hysterically, the swingy emotions of pregnancy overwhelming her.

Still, it was the loneliest she’d been since she had met Rio, made worse by everything else that was happening to her as a result of her choice. She was not the kind of witch who knew much about pregnancy, she had simply never cared before. Now she was discovering it all in real-time, finding that her bones hurt and her feet swelled and her body changed on her. Sometimes she regretted keeping the baby, but something else was changing in her, hormones and instinct as old as death combining to make her want to sacrifice herself for the person growing inside her.

Once, she murmured, “Just come back already,” but she received no answer.

So she went on, learned from midwives what to expect, didn't even kill most of them, and waited for the baby to come.

Until finally she did see Rio again, and for a moment, she could have wept from relief. Apologies almost spilled from her lips, or perhaps recriminations, but the intent would have been the same.

I missed you. Come back to me. Help me. Stay.

And then she'd met Death’s eyes and understood that the woman she loved was not there for her at all.

[therealbeachfox]

r/NoStupidQuestions is there a style guide/dress code for gotham rogue henchmen out there somewhere

u/RaddicalCon

"I mean, not something that's written down or printed out.

(Unless you're from my birth-family, in which case it's all written down, mostly in ancient books that stink of dry-rot and leather where Hench're called things like 'Servitors' and 'Beholden' and there's a lot of rules about which parts of the manor you're allowed to drag bodies through at what particular times of the day.)

Otherwise, it's not like there's a HenchCo HQ that puts together an employee dress code or anything. As with most things Hench-related in Gotham, it's all about unspoken rules and running tradition. Vibes, you know?

So here's some of those unwritten rules written down, because fuck the not-police.

A lot of bosses are going to have their own style and Hench-branding already in place. In this case, you wear what the Boss tells you to. Hopefully, they'll supply you the uniform so you don't have to go down to the army surplus and hunt for body armor in the exact right shade of purple or something. Be careful of any Boss who has you buy/rent your uniform with promises you get your money back when you return it. Gotham is hell on clothes regardless of who you are, and there's no way you're going to keep that uniform clean enough to be given your 'deposit' back. Fortunately, these sorts tend to be flash-in-the-pans. They usually wind up dead after they piss off one of the bigger fish, or they don't have anyone willing to bust their cheep-ass out after the first time their cheep ass gets locked up by the capes'n'cowls set.

Even if the Boss doesn't have specific uniform for their hench, they almost always have a certain theme/style of their own going on, and you'll want to play into that. When you join up, take a quick look around. If everyone's decked out in a certain style (jaunty green caps, black leather jackets, red shirts), it's probably a good guess you want to dress similarly if you don't want to draw the Boss' attention (It's almost never a good thing to have the Boss notice you as an individual as opposed to just One of the Minions).

Alright, so you found yourself hooked up with a crew where there doesn't seem to be any theming going on. Here's where the unspoken rules come in. You get to make your own outfit, but if you want to come across as a professional Hench, or at least one who knows what the fuck they're doing, you're going to wanna stick with the standards. These will depend on exactly what kind of outfit you've landed in.

Organized: 'This is a professional operation, boys, and we expect you all to look professional when on the clock.' You're working with one of the crime families, henching for Two-Face on Mr. Dent's side of the room, or fronting for Sionis because you're an unmitigated asshole or a raving idiot. Regardless, you're going to want to get yourself a nice suit. Nothing too fancy, you're not trying to imply you're as good (or rich) as one of the big players. Something off the rack at one of those Fancyish Clothes wholesalers should do you fine. Add a fedora or something if you need to keep your hair warm, consider growing a pencil mustache if you're able, or go for the classic full-eyelashes & red lips makeup if that's more your thing. You might even be able to get away with a trench-coat. Just keep it all either black, grey, or very subdued colors and you'll be fine. And make sure you know how to fight in them. There's nothing worse than watching some guy who can normally tear it up in a street fight get a knife to the gut because he wasn't used to the way tight slacks constrained his ability to throw a kick or leap out of the way of something.

Heavies: It's easy to tell if you're in one of these outfits. If you're spending all your time moving unlabeled crates from one place to another place, standing guard over nondescript warehouses and abandoned factories, or showing up in back alleys to clarify the boss' intentions to some hapless Gothemite, than you're in a Heavy crew. None of the excitement of the others, but you don't have to dress up for it. You're not in the 'Public Facing' part of the Boss' operations, so you don't have to worry about keeping on-theme or even wearing something without holes in it. Conrats. My main suggestion and the most popular getup for this gig? Cable-knit turtleneck and knit cap. Gotham nights are piss-cold nine months out of the year, and it's 9-10 odds you're going to be doing all your work after sundown. Steel-toed boots are also a must. Basically: good, durable, sout, able to handle roughness and keep you warm. Don't try and be cute and wear ugly christmas sweaters or multicolored patterned hats or anything. The only ones there to appreciate your kicking swag are going to be your coworkers (and who gives a shit what they think) or the Bats. Who're going to use the fact that you're distinctive to pick you out for the first to get face-punched. Not worth it.

Street: The Default level for Henching as a whole. Wear what you want. Something that'll keep you as warm and protected as you feel like keeping yourself that you're comfortable beating up assholes and getting your ass kicked in. Some form of tank-top/open-jacket combo is popular these days, as is the Tight Black T-Shirt and Ballcap getup. We're still not letting our freak-flag fly high, here. If you're Henching, the point is usually not to have the cops and everyone else immediately notice you when you walk down the street. If that is your purpose, the Boss probably already has uniforms prepped alongside the gas bombs and explosives. The only thing I wanna stress is to keep up on your laundry. Too many guys take the chill of this setup as an excuse not to keep up on that, and there is nothing worse than having to work with someone who stinks like month-old foot-mold and shit. You are not earning yourself a breakout out of Blackgate if you're putting your coworkers through that.

Wild: Okay, now you can let your freak-flag fly. This is what you want to go with if you're henching for Two-Face on Harvey's side of the room, or in one of those 'are we foot soldiers for a Rogue or are we a street gang?' situations. Let's be honest, you probably don't want to sign onto one of these unless you're comfortable blasting your brain chemistry to pieces on shit you've never even heard of before. In exchange, you can wear whatever the hell you like, so long as it's eye-catching. Combine your mesh tank-top, pink camo cargo pants, and an army-helmet with a dozen spikes, studs, and dyed feathers. Break out your midriff-baring leather jacket, fishnets, and combat boots. Take a trench-coat and wrap a street's worth of road signs around it. Drill elk antlers into a hockey mask and drop the whole thing into neon green paint. Just realize that if it's fragile, it's going to break in your first fight. And you will be in fights. Either against rival Rogues' crews, or with the Bats. Learn how to take a punch, and for the love of god learn how to stay down after you've taken that punch. The only thing getting up over and over again in a blood-frenzy will get you is an ever increasing stay in the ICU.

Of course, the easiest way to make sure you're wearing the right shit for Henchwork is to NOT DO IT.

I'm fucking serious, y'all. Just don't. If you want a snazzy uniform and an excuse to beat people up, join a private security company. If you want to fawn over an evil megalomaniac while furthering their plans for world domination, both Amazon and LexCorp have plenty of job openings. And if you just want to tear shit up for the hell of it, join a street gang. At least then the people by your side might actually give half-a-shit about you at the end of the day.

You can find more of my 'how not to be an idiot and die in Gotham' advice here if you're really in the mood for that.

And to answer the most frequent question: You can find piles of discontinued hench outfits at any Gotham thrift-shop. They've almost always got their own rack you can dig through to your weird little heart's content.

is there a style guide/dress code for gotham rogue henchmen out there somewhere