#they replace what they take of course but like-

[acid-ixx]

Lmao a&a reader sticking pics of all her milestones and events her family missed and unreplied texts all over the house (a father daughter day at school pic sticked twice on Bruce's door) out of anger and pettiness (srry abt the bad English I just had this idea suddenly)

— masterlist !

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

oh my god anon, you are so brilliant because this will happen eventually. like as much as i want a hurt, constantly aching pain to happen to the reader, i also portrayed them to be still bitterly petty towards their family. that translates to shoving it in all their faces about just how much they - specifically bruce - lost so much years of bonding with them just because they chose to be ignorant enough.

just picture this: an entire manor, with hallways filled with printouts of all of dick's unreplied texts, picture frames upon picture frames stacked on every corner where it's just you and alfred against the world, leaning on to the old butler in every image, reminiscent of a father figure more than bruce could ever be.

there're also pages of ripped diary entries stuffed under the couches' mattresses. pages which documented all the years and moments where you write and rant about your bitterness towards the family— how 'dick never looks at me, jay won't even spare me a glance whenever i talk to him, i think tim genuinely doesn't think i exist, and maybe damian just wants me dead'.

and all those entries, despite causing you more burden of having to confront bruce in his office about your mental health, about how it's unhealthy to dwell in the past; it genuinely gives you a sense of control within your trapped cage— if you could even call it that.

yet the more you shove it in their face, the more they smother you with attention: trying to overcorrect.

then suddenly your petty plans turned into a ploy, an excuse for them to bond with you even more because of course! of course those bitter reminders are just you wanting their attention individually! of course, it's your stubborn call to them that they do have a chance of reconnecting with you!

just let them spare themselves the heartbreak and instead replace the hurt upon seeing you so adamant of denying them the love; turning it into a way to become closer to you— a genuine apology in their part if you will, despite your refusal to call it that.

whenever you mention how dick never looks at you eye-to-eye, suddenly, his eyes are all over you, like he's burning the memory of your entire form under his eyelids. every time you mention his dismissal towards your request of hanging out, suddenly, it's him inviting you to every small thing. hell, his attention became too much to the point he suggests that you just sleep in his bedroom because, "it's only right that we spend all the lost moments together, right baby bird? now, don't we have another movie we have to catch on? and don't worry, it's only gonna be just the two of us."

he says, with a saccharine sweetness to his voice, masking the overly possessive undertone in the last sentence, as if there never was those past years filled with yearning, as if it was never you who chased after him. the more your diary entries are read, the more dick takes note in every missed invitation he never entertained. it doesn't even matter if you've already watched the movie, you'll rewatch it, with him, and only with him. because in his eyes, your requests to spend time with him specifically means that all your future moments are exclusively spent with your eldest brother.

with just how much he takes your time every day, you almost feel like it's his attempts of filling that void thirteen years without him.

then there's jason, who once knew what your boundaries were. and although he respects it now, he couldn't deny just how heavenly it is to have his angel in his arms. and could you deny all those diary entries rambling about what it's like to be in your big brother's arms? those documentations of your feelings at its purest form just means to jason that you still want, no, yearn to be embraced by him. the second eldest never really initiates contact first unlike dick, but whenever he does, it's always with you. the first time he hugged you, in his lonesome apartment, he couldn't really bring himself to let go despite your complaints— so what could stop him now that they have you in their grasp?

"hey angel, don't you think it'd be nice if i read you 'little women' tonight?" jason asks you, because of that one day where you filled his vacant room with copies of all the books he recommended and promised to read with you - but never fulfilled doing so - it kind of backfired on you. and now you're wrapped around his muscled arms, beside him in his supposedly cozy, yet suffocating bed, his hair pricking the skin of your sweaty forehead, damp from the sheer heat - despite the air-conditioning - because he straight up refuses to give you space. if you just lean back a little more, then you could almost feel the tremor of his voice narrating the entire story, the warmth of his breath hitting against the nape of your neck.

for a book so lighthearted, all you could feel was the heaviness of your heart.

unlike dick and jason, you never once spent a moment with tim. that in itself is what made him motivated to learn all about you on a more personal level. in his eyes, (or rather, through his delusional reasonings), he reckoned that because he never once had any memories with you— your hatred towards him would be the least harrowing thing to deal with. he's always been a mystery to you, you've been a mystery to him, too. through your empty texts with him, entries spanning from not even knowing anything about him at all; he figured that now's the chance to take you away in the least expected moments, cauterize his words with promises for escape from other more smothering members of the family. unlike the others, since he's never once had personal moments with you, he knows your objective prefences, your boundaries and what makes you tick.

"ah, (name)... mind moving your hand to the left? yeah, that's way better." yet despite the fact that you have more freedom when you spend time with him, doesn't mean that he'll spare you the space of being alone when he's just like all the others still: obsessively taking note of every little movement, swooning in secret with a small quirk in your lips, kissing his teeth when he's exceptionally pleased the more your emotions are vividly displayed in front of him. except now that you willingly chose to be his model - you're unaware that he plasters the polaroid's all over his own version of a diary mirroring yours... - for just a moment of respite from the other's overbearing physical affection, it doesn't mean that tim isn't an obstacle himself; he just... knows you more than you know him, more than you know anybody else actually.

in fact, the longer his cryptic stare is pinned only on you, the more you notice how he never really takes his eyes off of you for more than a second.

"who says it's your turn to be with my sibling, todd?" your youngest brother, the one who you unwillingly spent the most time with. your tormentor, the one who you almost despised. damian hates it when you smother him with hints that you're closer to anybody else but him. he hates it when his older sibling generally spends more time with others. and although he's countlessly apologized to you, you never quite find it in your heart to fully grasp his sorry's. even if he offers you friendship bracelets, emerald green stones matching the shade of your favorite ones, whilst looking away with a puff in his cheeks— you just can't see him in a different light anymore; constantly reminding him of the threats he threw your way back them, shoving papers upon papers stained with salty tears and smudged ink; all piled with texts ranting about your endless pain because of him.

but just like dick, your youngest brother just sees it as your stubborn way of calling out his name. he may look like he bites, and yes he does bite, but not at you, never at you. at least, not anymore— but to everybody else who threatens his so-called precious bonding time with his older sibling. weirdly enough, despite his smaller frame, he's the most suffocating, the one whose hold on your body tightens just a bit more every time you move away from him. he's arguably the most possessive, the one who'll fight tooth and nail just because he wants you, his older sibling, to be his beloved muse for a portrait he imagined.

as much as he tormented you in the past, you can never deny how his life centered on you as much as it did now.

lastly, bruce, your father, a figure that was never there, just a silhouette to you. and even until now he still is. you can't comprehend his care, a type of fatherly love you never felt all those years ago. after all this time, you're more petty now than you were in the past; sticking picture frames of you and alfred spending memories where it's supposed to be you two, in hallways you know he frequents. it hurts him, it truly does pain him every time you look at him distantly. but he knows patience is the key, even though guilt devours him at every passing glance— he still loves you so. he should've shown his care early on, but what can he do now that it's too late?

"(name)," he calls your name all too fondly, accurately even — like he's practiced calling your name every night, afraid you'll be gone in his arms — and for a moment, you can almost hear him mouthing the endearing term 'dear' under his breath. as the world's greatest detective, the first thing he does is wanting to entertain the sick idea of reenacting the memories plastered all over those picture frames. just to make the regret lighter, to find a reason to be closer to you than he already makes himself out to be. don't mistake him, he's grateful that alfred was always there to aid you, but he's your father, first and foremost, and just because he missed those birthdays, that graduation, your prom and so much more— it doesn't mean there's no more room for him to still spend time with his beloved child, no? he'll find a valid, yet almost desperate excuse every time; to make a grander celebration. your missed birthdays will be replaced with countless vacations, your graduation picture smiling together with alfred nailed right at the front of his door will soon be a frame with you and the rest of the family. he'll find a way for you to never write those wretched entries about them anymore— he swears, with all his heart, you'll love him as much as he loves you.

and maybe, just maybe, you should've never presented your bare heart in front of them so willingly after all.

a/n: leave comments because why not lmao. idk half of what i wrote here but i'm back to answering asks and anon, i hope you like this because i used your ask to make a drabble 😁 this is the batfam after they become yanderes and how they enact upon their obsessions so ykyk. again, i forgot whatever i've written here.

[kissylec]

TO THE PLACES WE'VE BEEN AND THE NIGHTS WE'VE HAD.

directed by love you goodbye...

pairing . . . rafe cameon x pogue!reader in which . . . the bonfire always has surprises, but you never thought that one of those surprises would be ending up in tannyhill with the kook prince warning .ᐟ . . . (18+) smut, alcohol consumption, curse words, enemies to lovers, tension, dirty talk, praise kink, making out, oral (f), unprotected sex (wrap it up), p in v, first time writing smut and english is not my first language, so please, bear with me w count . . . 1.5k (NO PROOFREAD) kissylec says . . . write this in 3 days and i dont really know if i like it or not. my frist time writing smut! im tweaking! thanks to @rafesheaven for the tips you gave me, i hope this is okay i love u. and thanks to @rafeysbabydoll for the idea of this first extra! i also love u. hope you guys like this 😭

masterlist .ᐟ 𝜗𝜚 navigation .ᐟ

YOU WERE DOING THIS FOR JJ, and you repeated that to yourself over and over again. the bonfire was the last thing on your mind after the day you'd had, having to put on makeup and get dressed made your head hurt and your feet felt tired just walking to the vanity. but everything went to shit in a short time, which you expected, but at least you had that slight glimmer of hope that it won't happen.

it all started when topper – because of course it was topper – started bothering sarah. your and your friends' irritation was instantly aired, creating a tense atmosphere that was not lost on anyone. and between john b complaining, jj trying to fight, and kiara trying to calm down everyone who came near, you couldn't take it anymore.

the overstimulation ate away at you to the point that you left without warning, a habit that was ingrained in you. the sound of voices grew farther away with each step you took, and the cold and salty breeze became more and more present. that's when you thought about the beach, and that maybe it would be a good idea to stop by there.

the sand on your feet felt colder than usual and the wind was a caress on your exposed skin. you took long, deep breaths, making circles in the palm of your left hand as you tried to maintain a calm that you were afraid would slip away. the sound of the sea was in the background, and a relaxation alien to you had found you. until.

you okay?

the thick, familiar voice startles you, causing you to bring a hand to your chest and open your eyes, your gaze traveling to the direction the voice came from.

rafe cameron.

"you scared the shit outta me," you say, your gaze traveling all over rafe's body. a bottle of alcohol in his hand, his brow furrowed. His curtain bangs were gone, replaced by a neat buzz cut, which made him look more... mature, older.

rafe continues to scowl, looking away from you. "yeah well, it's creepier when a girl stands next to you and closes her eyes and all that shit you were doing just now." his lips take a sip from what appears to be a bottle of whiskey, his eyes fixed on the water.

you just rolled your eyes, mimicking his action of looking away. you never gave rafe much importance, but your annoyance for him was no small thing. he was nothing sacred among pogues, as if his name were a curse. "i may be creepy but you're sad" you started saying. "drinking by yourself on the beach? not really a very fun activity."

rafe takes another long sip from the bottle, his muscles flexing as he raises his arm. “shouldn’t you be there?” he asks, still not looking at you.

rafe knew about you, not much, but he knew enough. he always insisted that you stood out from any friend sarah might have had, you were not overlooked, you always left a mark. you had that something that takes a person a while to figure out. you were different, and it sounds corny and repetitive, but you were, and rafe liked that.

for a split second you considered telling him why you left the bonfire, but you didn't. "i got bored," you said simply, feeling rafe turn his head and his eyes burn into your cheek. "what's your excuse?"

rafe swore his heart stopped for a second when you turned your head to make your first eye contact of the night, his lips felt dry but he didn't have the balls to lick them in front of you.

he just shrugged. "i don't want to be there" he says.

you slowly nod your head, your eyes locked on rafe's blue ones, who didn't seem to want to take his eyes off you. the sound of clothes rustling and him handing you the bottle of whiskey caught your attention, raising your eyebrows.

parting your lips you take the bottle, the contact with rafe’s fingers leaving a rough feeling on your skin. still looking into his eyes, you took an unexpectedly long sip, your throat burning instantly, making you grimace in disgust and drop the bottle. he couldn’t help but laugh.

“what was that?” he asks, following with his gaze as you spit the amber liquid into the sand.

“that shit is disgusting” you say, wiping your chin, which had dropped drops of the drink.

you shake your head, your eyes falling on his face. you allow yourself to analyze the small details, how his eyes close when he smiles, the occasional mark on his skin, his hand wrapped around most of the bottle as soon as you handed it back to him.

rafe parts his lips, you could see his eyes drop to his lap, as if he was hesitant. “i have more bottles in tannyhill, of… other things,” he says, hesitantly. "if you want."

your eyes widened, letting out a laugh you couldn’t control. “are you serious?” you said, your smile taken as mockery by rafe.

rafe frowns, his gaze going to you, making you erase your smile. a tension began to be felt between you two, that tension which anyone who was there could feel, that tension that makes your stomach hurt and your heart race.

"did you really just ask me what you just ask me?" you asked, your eyebrows raising as you looked at him.

“what’s wrong with what i said?” rafe asks, his tone of voice harsher than he intended.

you frown, careful not to fumble with your words. “no, absolutely not.”

“why not?"

“because it’s you,” you simply reply, looking at him. “and i would never do anything with you.”

your words seemed to trigger something in rafe, who raised an eyebrow and tilted his head, as if he were studying you. you felt your pulse quicken, his jaw suddenly looked attractive, and his challenging eyes made your lower stomach feel warm.

"never, huh?"

those were the last words you could remember coming out of his mouth, because all you were focused right now, was him. on his tongue expertly moving between your wet folds, on how he flicked it against your clit. his fingers gripped your thighs to keep you from moving, the pressure was so strong that you knew there would be marks, but you didn't care.

you had tears starting to form at the corners of your eyes, your o-shaped lips letting out moan after moan, babbling every now and then as you felt his tongue fucking you as if it were the only thing he was useful for.

"prettiest cunt" he grunts against your center, placing open-mouthed kisses over your clit.

"fuck–rafe" was the only thing that could come out of your mouth.

you start to rub your pussy against him when you feel close, that delicious pressure in your pelvis growing as does the burning in your clit, your moans turning into soft cries, desperate to cum, and rafe notices it, but that wasn't going to happen.

his mouth leaving you, automatically going to the level of your face. his lips, chin and nose glistening with your arousal, his pupils dilated with pleasure, his breathing accelerated, all so sexy that you could have cum just from him.

before you could even protest he crashed your lips against his, moaning as you tasted yourself. your tongues danced deliciously, making everything more disgusting.

"wan' you to cum on my cock" rafe manages to say between kisses, and you never wondered when he took off his pants, but he did. "you're capable of doing that? huh?"

he wrapped his hand around his heavy cock, pumping it slowly, guiding his tip to your puffy and achy clit, teasing it, coating his length with your slick. "fuck–could you be any more fucking wet?"

the tip traveled to your center, gasping as it entered inch by inch to the brim, forcing you to take him all. your eyes rolled back in your head, feeling his cock caress your insides. you could swear you felt him kiss your cervix.

"so tight, all f'me, isn't that right?" rafe purrs against your ear, his hips moving almost instantly after filling you.

your brain blanked out, letting him handle you as he pleased, your legs on his shoulders as his pace quickened. “rafe,” you stammered, your eyes squeezing shut.

"grippin' me so tight, you gonna cum?" rafe murmurs condescendingly. "this sweet pussy gonna cum? huh?"

it was ridiculous, almost pathetic, but his words and the way your sweet spot was hit over and over again had you cumming on his cock, your back arching and a small cry came out. rafe groans, his face hiding in your neck, his cock twitching and painting your insides with his cum.

you felt kisses on your neck, the thrusts fading in rhythm, his hands caressing your sides. your eyes slowly opened, your lips dry as the light from the nightstand made its presence felt beside you.

then, and just then, it clicked.

"we can't do this again" was the first thing that left your lips.

but rafe had already taken you over. and there was no escape from that.

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© KISSYLEC. 2025 — please do not plagiarize, repost, translate or claim any of my work as your own.

[emilys-bangs]

heaven is a place on earth with you | e.p

Tags: shy!hotch's assistant!reader, soft emily, just fluff, first date, one singular use of honey because emily is down bad, first kiss <3, emily being an absolute GENTLEMAN, reader gets treated so right, no use of yn

Summary: Emily asks you out on a date and gives you the first glimpse of something new. Requested here.

Word count: 1.2k

You suspect that Emily Prentiss has a soft spot for you. 

It’s a ridiculous thing to think—an even more ridiculous thing to believe—but most evidence you’ve gathered points to that exact conclusion. She gives you soft smiles and softer touches; more often than not, there’s a sweet nickname on her tongue to replace your name. Flirting is beyond her, thankfully—you don’t think you could handle that without turning into a ball of flame—but gentle teasing is not, her ribbing undeniably more tender than what she doles out to the rest of the team. 

And, the most prominent piece of proof:

“A date.” You echo softly. The thought makes your pulse speed up, thudding so hard beneath your skin you fear that Emily could hear it from where she leans over your desk. She nods, her face carefully smoothed out of any emotion, but her eyes give her away, the softened tilt of her lids turning them all the more doe-like.

“Yeah. If you’d like to.”

Of course you’d like to. You’d like to do a lot of things with her, most of which bring a flame to your cheeks. You’ve never felt this way before about someone, especially not someone like her, but it’s not her gender that scares you, nor what it means that you desperately want to feel her feminine soft curves up against your body. You’re just…achingly you, and she’s achingly Emily. Briefly you wonder if she’s messing with you.

“A non platonic date?”

Emily draws her bottom lip into her mouth, the soft pink of her tongue pressing it in before letting it go, shiny with color. “Very non platonic,” she confirms gently. Her eyes study you, no doubt taking in the hitch of your breath—and probably mistaking it for some other emotion, because she quickly backtracks. “I totally get it if you don’t want to, just say the word and we can just forget this ever—”

“I want to.”

Emily’s face clears. “You do?” She breathes, a smile teasing the corners of her lips. “Really? You’re not saying that just to spare my poor feelings?”

“Really,” you say, a hot glow warming you up from the inside. Emily is looking at you with far too much affection; you drop your eyes and fiddle with a random pen. “Besides, you don’t really spare my poor feelings half the time, why would I spare yours?”

Even without looking up, you hear the incredulity in her voice. “What? Honey”—your heart flutters at the pet name—“I have the highest regard for your feelings. Promise.” She says solemnly.

“You’re doing it again.” You mumble, looking up to catch her eyes widening ever so slightly.

“Oh. It’s the—?” She gestures vaguely with her hand. You nod, chest warming at her out of place awkwardness. Her cheeks flush a pretty pink, “I’m sorry—”

“No. Really, don’t, I—” You like it. You like her, and it makes your whole body thrum. Swallowing, you drop the pen, glad at least that this conversation is happening in the sanctuary of your office. “I’ve never done this before.” You admit softly, because it’s Emily. You’re safe with her. “A date, I mean. With…with a woman,” you shrug, not looking at her. There’s no doubt in your mind that Emily is well experienced in romantic affairs. The truth is, women or otherwise, you’re just not. A few tries, most of them mediocre, had convinced you to stop wasting your time. And besides, it’s not like people often ask.

When you chance a look at Emily, her mellow smile soothes the fast paces of your heart. Her voice is velvet smooth as she draws patterns on the surface of your desk, her fingertips occasionally skimming yours—ever so slightly. “Anywhere in particular you’d like to go?” She asks gently.

Not messing with you, you decide. Probably too late, but you can’t really care.

“No. Please don’t make me pick,” your tongue darts across your lips. “Anywhere is fine.”

Emily winks. You go boneless.

“You got it.”

____

She takes you to a botanical garden.

You’re more overwhelmed by her than you are by the flowers. The feeling has been steadily growing ever since she showed up at your door, tender gentility and a nervous smile and a bouquet of flowers, her voice lilting when she said, I think these might be a little too on the nose. You hadn’t known what she’d meant, but you were too endeared to try to figure it out. Now you smile. On the nose or not, Emily Prentiss is something else.

It hadn’t stopped there. There was her hand on the small of your back, her fingers around the car door handle as she pulled it open for you, her compliments shining down on you like the fading glow of a sunset. It’s not a side of her you’re entirely unused to, but the intimacy of an open setting with just the two of you made it hit hard on your cheeks.

“I thought you might prefer walking around,” Emily says when you stay quiet, trying to swallow the ball of emotion in your throat. “We could go somewhere else if you don’t want to—”

“Emily.” You cut her off before she can spiral. “Stop. It’s—it’s perfect. Really. Couldn’t have picked it better myself.” Your voice is soft with overwhelm, hands warming at your sides.

Emily’s smile is incandescent. “Okay,” she breathes out, clearly relieved, “if you’re sure.”

You nod, unable to help smiling back. When her hand returns to the small of your back you lean into it, both relieved and disappointed that she doesn’t reach for your hand.

She knows about flowers. Of course she does—murmuring in your ear about the symbolism of daffodils, the various meanings of all the colors of roses, the Persian legend of the red tulip. It takes the spotlight off of you, and before you know it you’re relaxing at her side, any tension broken as the two of you bend to sniff flowers, their scent sweet and fragrant under the sun.

When she offers you a fallen marigold, petals gently rumpled and bent, her smile hidden beneath its orange halo, you beam back unrestrained. She idly mentions it’s the October birth flower, and when you lean in, lips to her cheek, you surprise even yourself. You miss the mark by a bit, catching the corner of her mouth in your haste.

Emily’s eyes go wide. They glitter under the sun, crinkling at the corners when she grins brightly, dimples digging deep. She doesn’t mention it for the rest of the day out of courtesy for your poor nerves, but a smile never strays far from her lips. You take comfort—and a tiny swell of pride—at the way her cheeks color a light pink.

When you try again later that night, back to your front door, your mouth finds hers with careful precision. Emily smiles into the kiss, cupping your jaw with a reverent hand. You taste flowers on her lips.

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[lexiputellas]

Broken Vows

part2 - mdni

June 12th. Laundry day.

The monstrous, all-consuming, never-ending laundry day.

You remember when laundry was as simple as dropping off a bag of clothes at the dry cleaner and picking it up a few days later, crisp and fresh. That was before. Before life became an endless cycle of dirty socks, misplaced jerseys, and sheets that always seemed to need changing.

You start in Nora’s room. Nora, who is what some might call "spirited" but what you would call an absolute tornado. She plays football, like Alexia, but in terms of clothes, she is nothing like her mother. Alexia is meticulous. Methodical. Everything folded in perfect squares, socks matched like puzzle pieces. Nora? Chaos incarnate. At one point, you even wondered if she had ADHD, but then again, navigating a eight-year-old’s mind is harder than you ever anticipated.

You strip the bed, replace the sheets, and move to Iris’s room.

The moment you step inside, a memory crashes over you. You and Alexia painting the walls, carefully placing the crib, folding tiny baby clothes. You were so pregnant with Iris that you joked about rolling around instead of walking. So big, so round, so full of expectation. But the reality was different. Harder.

You cried while feeding her, your nipples raw and bleeding. Your body didn’t feel like your own, you were right on the edge—so close to falling into postpartum depression that you still wonder if you actually did. Just a breath away from giving up.

But that was then. And today, you refuse to dwell on it.

You move to your bedroom, stripping the sheets, gathering Alexia’s clothes from the bathroom floor. You wash them the way she likes—because, of course, Alexia has a very specific way she likes things done. You are halfway through making the bed when her phone slips off the mattress, landing right on your foot.

Pain explodes up your feet.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you hiss, grabbing your foot before bending down to retrieve the damn thing.

You think about texting one of the girls, letting them know Alexia left her phone at home. But as you glance at the screen, a name catches your eye.

Eva.

There are several messages. You shouldn't look. You know that. You know it’s wrong. But the urge is overwhelming.

Who the fuck is Eva?

Your heart pounds as your fingers hover over the screen. You know Alexia’s passcode. It used to be your birthday, then hers, then Nora’s. You try and it works, the messages open.

It’s not a long conversation. Not pages and pages, just a few days’ worth. But it’s enough.

*Where are you? I’m worried.*

*Did your wife give you a hard time for getting home late?*

You didn’t. You pretended to be asleep when Alexia climbed into bed last night.

*When will I see you again?*

Your stomach twists. Maybe Eva is just a friend. A close one, maybe even a best friend. But deep down, you know. You fucking know. Before you can stop yourself, your fingers move.

You type back, pretending to be Alexia.

*Last night was good.*

You hit send. Your heart is pounding.

It takes barely a moment for Eva to reply.

*Oh, just fine, yeah?* she asks, her words dripping with a quiet, simmering edge of something darker.

*Was it just good when you fucked me against the balcony?* she adds, that sharp edge now unmistakable, laced with a daring smirk you can almost hear.

You freeze. Your pulse spikes, the room spinning around you. The words blur. The world tilts.

Alexia fucked someone else.

Eva.

Eva, who?

Eva, the reason she stopped coming home for dinner?

Eva, the reason she stopped tucking the girls into bed?

Eva, the reason she started giving up on you?

The name pounds inside your skull like a drum, like a fucking rock concert reverberating through your entire being. You can’t breathe. You can’t fucking breathe.

You drop to the floor, staring up at the ceiling, hot tears pricking at your eyes.

Is Eva prettier than you? Does she fuck better than you? Is she hotter? Funnier? Nicer?

You don’t know what to do. You don’t even know how to exist in this moment.

A cry pulls you back.

Iris.

You forgot you left her in her playpen.

You wipe your tears, stand up, and go to her. She snuggles into your arms, warm and safe. You hold her close, pressing your lips against her tiny forehead, and think—What the fuck am I going to do?

———————————————

7 PM. Dinner is ready.

You always wait until 7:30 to see if Alexia is coming home. You text Jana, telling her Alexia left her phone behind. Jana just says, Okay.

Alexia arrives on time. Kit still on, hair in a messy bun, looking every bit like the woman you fell in love with. She comes straight to you, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before heading to the girls, lifting them onto the kitchen counter as they sing along to something on the iPad.

She asks where her phone is.

"Upstairs," you say.

She kisses the girls again before heading up.

You had deleted the messages. Every single one. You’re not stupid.

When she comes back, phone in hand, she helps you set the table. You sit next to Iris, feeding her small bites, while Alexia chats with Nora. It feels normal. Eerily normal. Almost like the past.

You eat Dinner. Do the dishes. Put Nora to bed and Alexia tucks in Iris.

After being done you go to your bedroom, with an idea in mind.

Alexia is already there, sitting against the headboard, scrolling through her phone.

"You know what I was thinking?" you say.

She hums without looking up. "Hmm?"

"I got something for you. Want to see it?"

Her head tilts. She looks intrigued.

You haven’t bought or worn lingerie in years. Not since you stopped feeling like the woman who used to leave Alexia breathless. But you still have some—tucked away in the back of your closet, hidden like a past life.

"What it is? Show me," she says.

You step into the bathroom, slipping into the black lace. It hugs every curve, pushes up your breasts, makes you look almost unfamiliar to yourself. You barely recognize yourself.

But when you step out, Alexia does.

She stares.

Not just a glance—she looks at you like she used to, like she’s seeing something she forgot she could have. Like you’ve just stolen the air from her lungs.

Her phone slips from her fingers, forgotten.

You crawl onto her lap, slow, deliberate, feeling the heat radiating from her body the moment your thighs settle over hers.

Her hands move without hesitation—roaming, squeezing, claiming. Her breath is heavier, her fingers digging into your hips, trailing up your sides, gripping your waist like she’s trying to memorize you all over again.

"Fuck, baby," she murmurs, her lips dragging over your throat, her voice thick, ruined. "You look so fucking hot."

Her fingers move lower, tracing the lace, teasing the edge of the fabric. You roll your hips against her, slow and smooth, watching the way her jaw tenses, the way her fingers twitch against your skin.

She groans, low and guttural, her hands sliding up your back, over your shoulders, down your arms—like she needs to touch every inch of you. Her lips trail lower, hot and open-mouthed, sucking bruises into your collarbone, your breast, dragging her teeth over lace-covered skin.

Her hands are on your thighs, spreading you, guiding you against her. You grind down, chasing something desperate, moving against her fingers the second they find you—slick, eager, drowning in want. Her breath hitches as she pushes inside, stretching you, filling you.

Your forehead drops against hers, your breathing uneven, your body trembling. It’s messy. It’s hungry. It’s not enough.

And then—

You lean in, your lips ghosting over the shell of her ear, and whisper—

"Does Eva fuck like I do?"

Everything stops.

Alexia’s hands freeze inside you, her breath catching in her throat.

She pulls back just enough to see your face, her brows furrowing, her eyes flashing with something dark, something uncertain, something dangerously close to breaking.

She looks at you like she doesn’t understand.

Like she doesn’t want to understand.

You smile.

"Yeah, Alexia," you whisper, voice sharp, taunting, twisting the knife. "I’m not fucking blind."

[missarchive]

motel six

spencer reid

cw; spencer reid x fem!reader, spencer gets caught jacking off, cowgirl, multiple orgasms, slight overstimulation, softdom!reader, sub!spencer, one bed troupe, oral (m. receiving), aftercare, unprotected p in v, spencer’s a little desperate and awkward (what’s new)

an; HIII ALLL!!! This is based on an ask I received earlier this month, but I have had a few similar ones so I finally made a fic for them. The truth is that I have been seeing a beautiful woman and she is taking up most of my time. BUT- I managed to sneak this one in. I will start posting more consistently again now that my writer’s block has finally disappeared. As always, please leave some feedback if you liked it (if you didn’t just know you’re stepping on my hopes and dreams). Love and miss u guys xoxo

wc; around 3k

Your stomach twists. A long day chasing leads and poring over case files has already left you drained, and now you have to share a room with someone? You glance around at your teammates, who are pairing off with little hesitation. Morgan claims a room with Rossi. Hotch and JJ take another. Emily and Garcia get the third. That leaves…

You turn your head just as Spencer Reid—resident genius, profiler extraordinaire, and your usual case partner—adjusts the strap of his bag with an unmistakable grimace. His hazel eyes dart to yours before flicking away, his jaw tightening.

Of course.

"Looks like it's you and me, Reid," you say, trying to keep your tone light.

He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he nods stiffly and brushes past you toward the room number scribbled on the keycard sleeve. Your stomach sinks further, but you push down the unease and follow.

The room is as underwhelming as expected: beige walls, scratchy-looking blankets, and a single queen bed shoved against one side. A rickety wooden chair sits near the window, but otherwise, the space is cramped.

Spencer stops in the doorway, his whole body tensing. "You take the bed. I’ll sleep in the chair."

You frown. "Reid, that thing looks like it’ll collapse if you breathe on it too hard. We can just—"

"I said I’ll sleep in the chair," he snaps, dropping his go-bag by the door.

The sharpness in his voice catches you off guard. Spencer is always a little awkward, sometimes distant, but rarely outright rude. You watch as he rubs his temple, his jaw clenched so tightly you wonder if he might crack a tooth. He looks… angry. At you?

"Okay," you say slowly. "Did I do something?"

"No," he bites out. "Just drop it."

You exhale sharply, irritation flaring. "Spencer, we’re both exhausted. If something’s wrong, you can just—"

"Just leave it alone, Y/N."

His words are clipped, final. You stare at him for a moment, searching his face for an answer, but he won’t meet your gaze. The room suddenly feels suffocating.

Fine. If he wants to be an ass, let him.

"I’m going outside," you mutter, grabbing your jacket. "Maybe by the time I get back, you’ll have figured out how to use your words like an adult."

You don’t wait for a response before stepping out into the cool night air.

The motel parking lot is nearly empty, save for the team's vehicles and a couple of semi-trucks parked along the far end. You breathe in the crisp air, letting it wash away some of the frustration bubbling inside you.

Spencer’s behavior isn’t just annoying—it stings. You thought the two of you were friends. Sure, he can be awkward and distant, but he’s never been outright cruel before. Whatever is bothering him, he clearly doesn’t want to share it with you.

You wrap your arms around yourself, shivering as the cold seeps through your thin jacket. After a few minutes, your irritation starts to wane, replaced by exhaustion. You don’t have the energy to stay mad, and honestly, all you want is to collapse into bed and sleep for at least twelve hours.

With a sigh, you make your way back toward the room. The hallway is silent, the only sound your footsteps against the aging carpet. You reach for the door handle but freeze as a muffled noise seeps through the thin walls.

A low, breathy moan.

Your heart stutters.

You strain to listen, barely breathing as another quiet sound follows—one you recognize immediately.

A strangled gasp, unmistakably Spencer’s.

Heat rushes to your face as your brain supplies every possible explanation, each one more embarrassing than the last. You should walk away. You should turn around and pretend you never heard anything. But your hand stays frozen on the doorknob, your pulse hammering in your ears.

Another moan drifts through the door, this one louder. You swallow against the sudden lump in your throat.

"Fuck," Spencer gasps. "O-oh god— please."

His voice is low, rough. Desperate.

You grip the doorknob tighter, debating for what feels like an eternity. Should you walk away? Or—

You ease the door open, pressing your hand against it as if to stop yourself from charging forward. Spencer’s back is to you, his head thrown back as he works himself over, his hand moving in rapid strokes.

You can’t help it—you step further into the room, drinking in the sight of him.

He’s sprawled on the bed, shirtless and pale in the moonlight filtering through the blinds. His arm muscles are tense, sweat dripping down the side of his face. The blanket is thrown back, revealing his naked lower half: his long legs, his perfect hands—

His cock, thick and wet between his fingers.

You feel a rush of arousal at the sight, your blood pulsing hot. This is so wrong. So inappropriate. He’s your teammate, for god’s sake, and yet—

And yet, you can’t bring yourself to walk away.

Spencer's hips jerk upwards, his body shuddering with pleasure. "Y/N," he gasps again, his head falling back against the pillow. His eyelids flutter shut, his brows drawn together.

"Y/N, fuck, please—" His hand moves faster, stroking himself with a rough desperation that makes your breath hitch. You can’t look away as he thrusts against his grip, his hips writhing, his spine arched.

"Ah- fuck," he gasps, his body tensing, his fist tightening around himself. His mouth falls open, his eyes squeezing shut as he comes with a strangled moan.

You press your hand over your mouth, holding back a whimper of your own as you watch him.

Spencer sags against the mattress, his chest heaving. He's so fucking beautiful, and—

And you’re still standing here, watching him.

Your eyes dart to his face, and your stomach plummets as he turns his head.

He opens his eyes, and you meet his gaze across the room.

There’s a moment of stunned silence.

Then you both leap into action.

He scrambles upright, fumbling for the blanket to cover himself. You jump backward, tripping over the threshold and landing hard on your ass.

"Shit," you hiss, wincing at the pain that shoots up your tailbone. "Shit. I—fuck, I’m sorry. I should—"

"Y/N," Spencer says in a strangled voice. "I—I thought you were gone. I didn’t know you were—"

He trails off, looking anywhere but at you. You struggle to your feet, smoothing your clothes down self-consciously. This is awkward as hell.

"I thought you were asleep," you admit, wincing. "I didn’t mean to—"

Spencer draws his knees up, wrapping his arms around them. He looks so fucking embarrassed, and you can't blame him.

You should say something. Apologize. You should put him at ease—

But the sight of him still has your pulse hammering.

You clear your throat, trying to calm down your racing thoughts. "I’m sorry, Spencer. I really am. I don’t mean—this is just—"

He raises his head, his eyes searching your face. "What were you doing, standing there?" he asks softly.

You swallow against the lump in your throat. "I don’t know," you whisper. "It was wrong, what I did. I shouldn’t have—I shouldn’t have watched you. I’m sorry."

Spencer lowers his gaze, his face still flushed. "What if I wanted you to?" he mumbles.

Your heart jumps. "What?"

"I wanted you to watch me," he says louder, his eyes darting up to meet yours. "I’ve been wanting you to for weeks, ever since you asked me to take over the case files."

"What?" you repeat stupidly.

Spencer shifts, his cheeks flushing a deep red. "I started—I started thinking about you. Fantasizing about you. You touching me, kissing me— everything."

Oh.

You stare at him, trying to process. "Reid," you say softly. "I—"

"Don’t apologize," he says quickly. "It’s not your fault, I just—I wanted you. So fucking bad. I thought that sleeping next to you would be—"

"What?" you prompt gently.

He exhales sharply. "That it would be uncomfortable," he says in a rough whisper. "That it would drive me crazy. That maybe you’d—maybe you’d feel it too."

His gaze flicks up to yours again, full of hope.

Your heart races. "Is that what you want?" you ask, stepping forward.

Spencer's breath hitches, his fingers tightening around his knees. "Yes," he rasps. "Oh fuck, yes. If you—Y/N, I’ll do anything you want. Just—just don’t leave me alone again. Please."

His words send a surge of pleasure through your veins. The sight of him, desperate and pleading, is almost too much to bear.

"Spencer," you whisper, taking another step forward. "Come here."

He scrambles to his feet, rushing toward you. You meet him halfway, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him close. He melts against you, pressing his face into the curve of your neck with a sigh.

"I can’t believe you saw that," he murmurs into your skin.

"I can’t believe I did either," you admit with a chuckle. "But I’m glad I did."

Spencer raises his head, his hazel eyes searching yours. "You are?"

You nod, smiling softly. "Yes."

His face flushes. "Do—do you want to watch me again?"

You smile wider. "Maybe later," you tease. "Right now, I think it’s my turn."

Spencer's eyes widen as you press him backwards, onto the bed. "I thought you were tired," he murmurs, his voice already thickening with arousal.

"I am," you agree, smiling. "But this is more important." You drop your jacket onto the floor, pulling off your shirt and jeans in quick motions. Spencer's eyes dart down to take in the sight of your naked body, and you flush at his hungry gaze.

He groans, throwing his head back against the pillow as you climb on top of him.

It takes a lot to shock Spencer Reid. But you're definitely up for the challenge. The look on his face is priceless as you take his cock in your mouth, not wasting any more time. His hips buck against the mattress, his hands threading into your hair.

"Fuck," he gasps. "Oh my god. Y/N."

He tangles his fingers in your hair, urging you on as you work him over. He's so responsive, moaning and gasping and whining—fuck, it's a beautiful sound.

You work him deeper, taking

Spencer moans loudly as you take him deeper, his thighs trembling. "Y/N, oh fuck, I—fuck—"

You press one hand against his hip, holding him steady as you swirl your tongue over the underside of his cock. Spencer bucks against your grip, his fingers tightening in your hair. He's still so sensitive from his previous release, but he's still getting harder—thicker—by the second.

You run your tongue along the underside of his cock, teasing the spot behind the head.

"Oh fuck," Spencer gasps, his voice broken. "Y/N, please—please don’t stop. I’m going to— ah."

You press your other hand against his stomach, feeling the muscles contract. His whole body is straining upwards, his back arched and his eyes squeezed shut.

You take him all the way in, swallowing around his length as you work your lips over his shaft. Spencer comes with a cry, his hips jerking as he empties down your throat. You swallow every drop, holding his gaze as you slowly pull back.

"Touch," he rasps, his fingers searching for your own.

You swallow against the ache in your throat and smile up at him, lacing your fingers with his. "How are you feeling?" you ask, running your thumb over his hand, keeping your voice soft as to not disturb the air.

Spencer sighs, though not out of exhaustion, you assume he’s still taking everything in as you see his head rolling against the pillow. "It’s never felt like that before."

You grin. "Glad I could help."

He shifts, reaching for his discarded pants on the floor. "We should—we should clean up," he mumbles, his eyes darting to yours. He flushes when he sees your expression, and his face turns even redder as you realize what he’s doing.

"Reid," you laugh. "Are you really reaching for tissues right now?"

His ears turn bright red. "Well, what—what else am I supposed to do?"

You shift, straddling his hips as you lean down. "How about we do something else," you murmur. You kiss his jawline, working your way down his neck.

"Like what?" he asks in a breathy voice.

"Like this," you reply. You shift, taking his cock inside you. Spencer's breath hitches, and he groans at the feel of you surrounding him. You clasp his shoulders as you begin to move, his hands falling to your hips. He gasps with each thrust, his eyes falling shut as his head lolls back against the pillow.

"Y/N," he whimpers, his fingers digging into your skin. “I don’t know if I can-."

You ride him harder, sliding up and down his cock. “Yes you can, baby. I know you can give me one more,” Spencer's hips rock upwards to meet you, his breath coming in broken gasps.

His fingers tighten around your hips, holding you close as he thrusts upwards.

You’re both panting and gasping now as you chase the peak. You're so close. So fucking close.

"Please—" Spencer groans. "Y/N. I'm—fuck, I'm coming."

You feel him spasm inside you, his fingers tightening almost painfully around your hips. You groan, your movements slowing as you ride him through his orgasm. Spencer's eyes are closed, his mouth open as he gasps for air. His body trembles beneath you, and you feel a surge of satisfaction as you reach yours, too.

You slump forward, catching yourself on his shoulders as you press your forehead against his. He opens his eyes and smiles at you, a warm expression that makes your chest ache.

"Hi," he murmurs softly.

"Hi Spencer." You smile back.

You both lay there for a moment, enjoying the weight of each other’s bodies. Finally, you roll off him, stretching out next to him on the creaky motel bed.

You reach for him, pulling him into your arms as you smile. He nestles against you, his arm snaking around your waist as he presses his face against your chest.

You wrap your arm around him, whispering soft praise into his hair as you stroke his skin gently. He relaxes further, his body growing heavy with sleep.

The mattress is uncomfortable, the sheets too thin. But somehow, you feel more at ease than you have in weeks.

Spencer Reid is a brilliant man. But he’s also really fucking good at other things too. And you’re excited to find out what else he’s good at.

You smile to yourself, your chest warm with affection.

"Goodnight, Reid," you whisper into his hair.

He hums a soft reply, his breathing already slowing. You wrap your arm tighter around him, closing your eyes and letting yourself drift off into sleep. Tomorrow, the case will continue, and so will your job. But right now, you have Spencer in your arms.

And that’s more than enough. You smile again, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you as you drift off to sleep. This room might not be perfect. But it’s home for the moment, and that’s all you need. You drift off to sleep, lulled by the steady rhythm of Spencer's heartbeat against your chest.

[americas-ass-writing]

Not the game they play

Steve Rogers x reader

Words: 4.1k

Summary: An arranged marriage flips your life upside down. What you thought you knew about your family doesn't seem to be true at all. How will Steve and you navigate your life together?

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, a swear word here and there, insulting of Sarah Rogers, yes that needed to be a warning, difficult family relationship, if I missed anything please let me know

A/N: This is the first part of a series. I had this idea for over two years with some scenes already written out or well thought through. Thank you all for encouraging me to finally do something with it. But don't come for me, you wanted this!

I promised to tag the lovely @ronearoundblindly 🩷

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Chapter One - Cannot stop the rain

The constant bustle of people and their conversations were a white noise like no other. One you can't concentrate on too long, especially when you have to hold conversation with whoever thought it was his turn to smooze a king.

Steve hates galas. He hates the pretentiousness that came with them and the people who attended but most of all he hates that he had no choice but to go. A king missing one of these was only excused when a serious matter arose. And those don't come by easily when you need them. He yearned for the times when he didn't need to attend these things, back when his mom still was the reigning queen and shielded him from this world. But with his mom gone he had to step up.

Gone where the days he travelled the world, studied art and made new friends. So easily replaced with duty and grief... and a stupid crown on his head. He was lucky enough he could hire his friends as staff, lucky enough his oldest friend was his right hand man and never left him alone for too long. James Bucky Barnes, his childhood defender, his best friend, his right hand and occasionally, much to Steve's dismay, his wingman. If only that would have worked out already. He seems to be casually watching people dance but in reality he watches the couples spend quality time together at a stuck up event. If he had a partner maybe this wouldn't be so bad? Maybe people wouldn't constantly come up to talk to him because he'd be dancing himself, someone in his arms, looking at him lovingly...

"Senator Lee is coming up next" a smooth voice mumbles over his shoulder, Sam Wilson. A friend he found in college, a politics major and his chief of staff. Steves eyes find the older gentleman approaching him. He's talked with him before, quite often actually, and he was always so kind and encouraging.

The small talk with senator Lee went by faster than Steve anticipated. Before the next person could swoop in to talk to him he excused himself to the restroom. Bucky, his honorary security detail for the evening since he refused to take his actual one, made to follow him. "It's just the bathroom Buck. I'll be fine and I'll come straight back here." he says lowly, his eyes rolling at the antics. He didn't need this much security before he became a king. Bucky hesitates for a moment, his eyes flickering to Sam who looks a bit unsure himself. "I mean... It's just the bathroom... No danger there. Nat wouldn't go inside with him either right?" Steve lets out a sigh at Sam's statement. Natasha, the head of security, ruled with an iron fist. She had all of them so scared they wouldn't dare to disobey her orders... except maybe her husband Clint but he got free passes for life.

"Right... Just come right back here?" Bucky looks at him and with a sigh and a nod Steve agrees. Before they can say anything else and before whatever lady just seems to approach them can start to talk, Steve hurries to the restroom. He locks himself in a cabin just for a few moments alone. But even those aren't truly alone.

The door to the restroom opens up not too long after him and of course that person takes ages to do their business. With a silent grumble Steve finishes up and leaves the cabin to wash his hands. Just then the door to another cabin opens and an older gentleman with thinning grey hair, in a three piece suit steps out. His eyes meet Steve's in the mirror as he walks up to the sink area himself. They look cold, although he has a smile plastered on his face. Fake niceties like Steve has grown used to.

"King Rogers." He acknowledges and Steve simply gives a nod. He isn't even safe in the fucking bathroom!

"Black isn't really your colour." Steve's brows furrow. What was that supposed to mean? "You know many families waited for the old crone to finally step down and let you be the king. Women shouldn't hold that much power, especially when there's no king at her side to keep her in check. Who would have thought it would take her to die for you to finally step up." The man seems calm and collected as if he didn't just insult Steve's mother.

"What the fuck did you say about my mom? Old crone?!" His blood was boiling and he was this close to hitting the old man if it weren't for his manners. His mom raised him better but she wasn't here to keep him in check was she?

"Oh calm down Steven. No need to get all flustered and angry. Hold your tongue before you say something you'll regret. We'll be one happy family soon after all." The man smirked and calmly dried his hands. He teaches over and turns off Steve's tab, the blonde frozen from anger. What did he just say? He must be demented. "What?" Is all that Steve can bring out. Confused and angry and still so so close to punch that guy.

"Oh you don't know. Can't say I'm surprised, your mother shielded you a lot. Now I have to do all the explaining. That's why women should never be in charge.” he rolls his eyes. “Are you familiar with the Hastings family?" The man hands Steve one of the towels and casually leans against the sink. Hastings? Steve has heard that name before... Wasn't that the royal family that fell from grace three generations ago? His eyes flit to the man.

"Sounds familiar." Is all he can grid out. What is this man on about? Is he just here to gossip?

"Clever boy." The smirk on the old man's face is uncanny. As if he can read Steve all too well. "You know exactly who they are but instead of going off to gossip like all the other royals out there you keep your answer neutral. What a good king you make." Steve's confusion grows.

"What does the Hastings family have to do with us becoming one?" Steve bites out. "Ah straight to business. Just how I like it. You see the Hastings family and the Rogers family go way back. Many, many generations in fact. King Joseph Rogers the first and King George Hastings even made a little pact, that yes, still stands today." His eyes search Steve's face and his grin looks so satisfied. "That the families will unite as soon as there is a male and female heir born into the families. Now ever since then both families only bore strong sons with an occasional daughter that was out of the age range for marriage. That is until roughly 30 years ago. When you and my granddaughter were born just two years apart." Steve's brow lifts. The old man was a Hastings. Wanting to fulfill a deal that was made over a hundred years ago... Bullshit.

"Whatever deal you're referring to will not stand with today's laws. So you can stop badmouthing my mom and trying to get me to marry your desperate granddaughter now." Steve spits. The man just grins. "Oh, it will Steven. Here let your lawyers check this and then get back to me about when my granddaughter can move in with you. " He laughs and hands Steve an envelope before he walks out of the restroom and back into the gala.

Steve's eyes fall on the envelope, it's burning in his hands but he needs to get this checked. He can't marry someone because of an old deal. He can't marry someone with a grandfather daring to insult his mom that's not even been dead for a month. Steve's eyes start to burn with tears. His mom shielded him from so much while she also did her best to prepare him for this life... He wishes she was here... That he wouldn't need to mourn her so publicly while also keeping his tears in to not seem weak. He wishes he could wear the dark blue suits she got for him because according to her that's the colour he looks the most handsome in. He wishes she could brush his hair out of his face one more time. Just once more with that sweet smile that was reserved for him only.

He takes a shakey breath and swallows the lump in his throat. A brief look in the mirror, a deep breath, straightening his tie. He can't show weakness. Not here, not ever. 'Safe the tears for your bedroom, Rogers.' the voice in his head commands. He wipes away the stray tear that got caught in his lashes, pockets the envelope and with another deep breath makes his way back to his friends.

They're chatting, most likely teasing each other. As soon as Bucky sees him both heads turn to Steve with a concerned gaze swiping up and down. They seem to come to the conclusion that he's okay and relax. "We need to leave." he says as soon as he reaches them. His tone more urgent than he wanted to. "Why you got diarrhea? Took you pretty long in there... I told ya to lay it easy on the hors d'oeuvres." Bucky teases with a grin that immediately falls as soon as he sees Steves eyes. Sam can't even get his joke in before Bucky declares that they're leaving. He leads Steve to the host of the gala for a quick goodbye and then out to the car they came in.

Within 10 minutes they're on the road. For the first time with only the three of them in the car, Steve pulls up the divider for privacy. Shielded from Sam and Bucky, he allows himself to spill a few tears for his mother before he can make it to the safety of his bedroom. He knows that will be away for another few hours, especially with the envelope that's burning a hole into his pocket.

Ever since you were young your family hasn't cared much for you. The only thing that was important to them was that you did exactly what they wanted... in every aspect of your life. You got the education they wanted, you went to college for what they wanted and you hid your interests to make them like you. At the beginning of your twenties you finally broke out of that circle. You moved far away with your friend and only occasionally visited for important matters, much to their dismay. Just like you were now.

The train ride never isn't boring, even with a good book and music. The most thrilling plot or the most beautiful lyrics couldn't distract you from the stranger sitting next to you. Somehow you always had the luck of them eating something disgusting, talking loudly on the phone, constantly bumping into you or being a stranger to the concept of headphones.

Your eyes wander over to your friend and her husband for the millionth time. They were sitting together, cuddling, yet somehow each minding their own business. Her husband looking out of the window, headphones in, music on and daydreaming. Your friend reading the newest book from her favourite author. How you wish you had someone to share a seat with... to share a life with. You wouldn't have a stranger next to you. You'd have a partner. You could cuddle and mind your own business at the same time... or play a game? Would you get upset at them winning Uno? Or would you love them too much to get frustrated?

You let out a sigh. You've been single for so long... a partner was still written in the stars and wouldn't come by anytime soon. So you'd have to deal with strangers next to you on the train, the couch for yourself and your family constantly badgering you when you'd move back and find a partner. It's not like you planned being almost thirty and still single. As a child you dreamed about being married with children at this age. Maybe having a little house and a dog. You wanted to be surrounded by friends, leave your family out of it as much as you could. Just enjoy life with your partner. But here you were, still alone. Maybe wallowing in self pity at a life that could have been would be a good way to pass time till you were back at your family's place.

You pull your suitcase after you. The walk from the train station wasn't too long and you know better than to ask anyone to pick you up. You don't want to inconvenience them or owe them. Last time you asked your mother and she made you wash all the dishes from the family party by hand after you played waitress during the entirety of it. You'd rather choose walking 30 minutes to the house than do that again.

As you come closer you spot your grandpa's car in the driveway. He must be here to oversee the preparations for his birthday party tomorrow. You briefly look down at yourself, jeans and t-shirt. It looks good enough but you already know you'd be criticised left and right. Never enough for them.

With a deep breath you ring the doorbell and wait. It's not too long before the door opens to reveal your mother. She takes in your appearance and sneers before she greets you. She steps to the side to let you in. "You visit your family that you never see and you show up dressed like some slob. You could wear something nice every now and then." She grumbles before she goes to the living room to announce that you're here. Well if you knew your grandpa would be here a day early you would have tried to wear something nicer. You leave your suitcase next to the door and follow her into the living room. You greet everyone and listen to your siblings' judgments until your grandpa stops them.

"Enough. Let's not ruin this joyful day for our family." He announces before he gets up and stands next to you. Joyful day? What happened? Did he finally win the lottery? You look at him confused.

"You all need to learn to not criticise her so much anymore. After all it would be a bad image to her fiancé and the press." Everyone nods along as if what he said did make any sense. Even your father who usually only shows interest for the drink in front of him, nods along. Has he got dementia since the last time you visited? "What?" Is all you can bring out at which your mother scoffs.

"Well dear... It took you a long time to find a partner, which in hindsight I'm very grateful about. You know our family has a long history and its history and glory shall be restored soon enough.” Your grandpa declares like it's some victory. “Many hundred years ago our ancestors made a deal with the royal family of Brooken. The first heirs of opposite sex shall marry and unite our families. It just never worked out age wise until you came along. Born just two years after the now reigning King Steven Rogers." He explains and you're absolutely sure they all lost their damn minds. No royal family would make a deal with commoners, especially back then.

"Well I recently met the young man and reminded him of this deal. He's more than eager to fulfill it and marry you. He'll collect you and bring you to Brooken tomorrow." He squeezes your arm, a smile plastered on his face. You can't do anything but stare at him and then burst out in laughter. They were messing with you. Or playing along with your grandpa's dementia... But no one else was laughing. They all looked rather serious... And the house looked so clean... Was this not a joke?

"This... This has to be a joke...?" You say, looking at him with desperation. "Why would it be? You'll restore the Hasting family's glory and finally be of use to us.” your heart breaks a little more. Were you truly this worthless? Did nothing you did for them before count? You look up at them, desperate to find any sign that this wasn't true. That they were playing a prank. The stone faces of your parents and siblings look back at you. This... This wasn't a joke. They'd marry you off to some stranger. To a king? To gain what? What about your life? What about your place? Your job? You can't just leave that behind for some king who's probably a huge asshole... Your long fought for freedom taken by your family and that guy. Back under control, every move watched and criticised.

The rest of the day has been cruel. Your family was between joy at your engagement to a king and anger at you trying to refuse. In-between all the explaining, that really didn't give you any new information or any that would make sense of the situation, you texted your friend which promised to call you later.

“It's not all that bad… at least he's handsome!” Your friend tries to reason. “Plus you'd be a queen! No more shitty job that doesn't pay you enough. You'd live in a castle and wear pretty dresses.” She offers and is met with a heavy sigh.

“Yeah that's great but at what cost? My freedom. I really love my one bedroom apartment. You know why? Because it's mine. I can do what I want. And in his castle? I probably won't even be allowed to hang a picture on the wall. There'll be people watching my every move and reporting back to him. I'll be just as miserable as I used to be at my parents place.” The white of the ceiling starts to become blurry with the tears that are about to spill. “What if I can never see you again? What if he won't let me have any friends?” Your voice breaks at the thought.

“He doesn't look like he'd be such an asshole. He looks nice and the articles write nice things about him too.” She reasons. “Yeah and who has big influence on the press? Him. Of course they wouldn't write anything bad about him.” You complain. “They have written not so nice things about him. Especially with him grieving his mother…” that you do feel sorry for. They seemed to have a good relationship, losing a loving parent isn't easy. “Give him a chance. You never know maybe he's a prince charming.” Her voice sounds encouraging.

“What does a king even want with a commoner? Why would a king make a deal like that hundreds of years ago? I don't get it…” you question. “Who knows maybe your family had blackmail material on the royals.” At that you snort a bit. “Maybe… he seems eager to get married. My family is eager for this. Why am I the only one who thinks this is a bad idea?” Your hands pick on the scratchy blanket your mother put on the guest bed for you. “Because you're the one who loses a lot for this. Your family gains royalty… at least they'll be royal adjacent? I mean they do have the stick up their asses like royals already. And he gains a wife? Dating must be hard when you're a king.” She muses. “His last relationship was six years ago. His ex left him for another prince and got married like a year after.” You hum at the information she found. His whole life could be found on the internet which makes you wonder what he even knows about you? Your family didn't even know you so he couldn't even get something accurate from them.

“Listen, I gotta go… but give it a chance? And if he's an asshole and you need out, you text me and we'll come to break you out ok?” you sigh at your friends offer but ultimately agree. You'll try, it's not like you can leave the house and flee without your family noticing and coming for you anyways. You place your phone on the nightstand and cuddle up in bed. Your eyes fall on the monstrosity of dress your mother picked out for you. Maybe if you truly wore that pink pile of whatever the seamstress had left over, he'd run for the hills and you'd still be free.

"Sorry Steve... I can check a few more things but this is airtight... They can force you to marry that girl..." his lawyer says. Steve sighs and looks up from his desk to look at the brunette who meets him with a warm empathetic smile. Maria Hill, top of her class, badass in their softball team and brilliant lawyer. Steve recommended her to his mom when the old lawyer retired. Maria showed her wits and was hired within two hours of her interview.

"There's no way a deal from over a hundred years ago still holds up! You're telling me there was not a single occasion where this desk could have already been fulfilled? Aren't the Hastings fucking hornballs with so many family members? They're not even royal anymore! How does this hold up?" Bucky rants, clearly trying to protect his friend. Maria meets his eyes and lifts an eyebrow.

"Well if you want to go through the entire family trees and history to try and prove that be my guest. Matter of fact is that King Joseph and King George thought of everything in their agreement. Even the downfall of royalty... Or in this case the downfall of one royal family. This seems to be their way back. Making Steve marry the granddaughter so at least she is tuly royal." Maria says dryly. "I will check it over once more. I think we all should get as much rest as this night still offers but... don't get your hopes up Steve." She adds as she gets up and takes the contract that was in the envelope before. "What if we kill her. Can't marry someone that's dead" Bucky suggests and immediately gets a slap on the back of his head from Sam.

"As your lawyer I would advice against the murder of the future spouse of your best friend. You'd be one of the first suspects and I'm sorry to say this Barnes but your pokerface isn't as great as you'd like to think." Maria states before she looks at Steve. He's exhausted, his face in his hands, his hair ruffled. "Go to bed Steve." She says softly, worried about her friend.

Steve let's out a sigh and gets up. "Dismissed. Good night." Is all he can say before he drags himself out of his office and up the stairs. His mind is a flurry of thoughts that just won't shut up no matter how much he tries. He lets out a sigh as soon as he reaches the third floor. To the left is his room, to the right the room of his mother. His legs move on their own, carrying him to the portrait of her that's covered in a black veil. In the last month he often stood in front of it. He wished it good night before he'd get in bed. Just like he planned to do today.

"Night mom..." He whispers, the tears in his eyes returning once more. "This is all so hard without you… you would know what to do with this stupid deal… I wish you were here." his voice breaks at that. He gulps and tries to hold back his tears. He isn't in the safety of his own bedroom yet. But he isn't sure he's gonna make it till there. His eyes wander to his door, so far away, and back to the portrait. He gulps and moves towards her door. Her room is safe too. Even if it brings sad memories.

He softly closes the door behind him, his eyes falling onto her bed. He'd often sleep with her as a child. When he had nightmares, when he was upset about his father dying, when he was sick. Just one more time he tells himself and takes off his shoes. He can sleep in the sweatpants and shirt he put on earlier, he doesn't need a fancy pyjama set. Hesitantly he slips under the yellow covers. His nose immediately fills with her scent. Her favourite laundry detergent mixed with her perfume and he can't hold back the tears any longer. The dam breaks and he sobs into her pillow. After many minutes of crying he falls asleep enveloped by her one more time.

[babsworlds]

COMPLETELY WASTED.

pairing. Dave Lizewski x bsf! fem! reader

synopsis. Dave gets very very drunk and say some things that really catch you off guard.

warnings. drunk Dave (like whoa), alcohol, mention of throwing up, pre relationship.

babs’ notes. this is similar to Midnight Confessions but this is standalone, i just had to write wasted Dave lol.

BRINGING DAVE TO THE PARTY WAS THE STUPIDEST IDEA EVER. You didn’t know what you were thinking when you told yourself it would be a great idea and so much fun. In hindsight, you realized that taking someone who never drank to a party with free-flowing alcohol was a recipe for disaster. You had envisioned a night of dancing, laughter, and good times, but it quickly became clear that the evening would take a very different turn.

Dave never drank; he just wasn’t used to that. And the fact that he didn’t know his limits made it even worse. When he agreed to have "just one drink," you had no idea that it would lead to several more. Before you knew it, he was well past his tolerance level, and the effects of the alcohol were evident. His usually composed and responsible demeanor had disappeared, replaced by a goofy, unsteady version of himself.

You stumbled through the house, trying to keep Dave at least a bit stable, as he was completely wasted. You had never seen him like that before—logically, because he was always the one who took care of you when you were drunk. But you found it funny anyway; seeing him like this was just something hilarious.

As you tried to support his weight, you couldn’t help but laugh at his unsteady steps and the slurred, playful comments he made. He was trying so hard to keep it together, but the alcohol had clearly gotten the best of him.

You sat him on the stairs, taking a moment to look at your drunk best friend. His head was leaning against the wall, his usually composed expression replaced with a goofy grin. You thought about what to do next and honestly, you had no idea.

Dave looked at you, grinning from ear to ear. “You are so done, mate,” you laughed at his expression. His eyes were half-closed, and his smile was lopsided, making him look even more comical.

He completely ignored how you practically laughed at him. “I need you,” he slurred, looking at you with his drunken blue eyes, but still, they were full of desire and longing. His normally clear and sharp gaze was clouded by the effects of the alcohol, but there was something earnest in his expression that tugged at your heartstrings.

It was as if, in his inebriated state, he was more honest and vulnerable than he had ever been before. The weight of his words hung in the air, and for a moment, you wondered if there was more to his drunken confession than just the influence of the drinks he had consumed.

You raised an eyebrow at him. “To call your dad to get you? Definitely,” you finished his sentence, trying to play it off as if it didn’t mean anything. You hoped that injecting a bit of humor would diffuse the intensity of the moment, but deep down, you knew there was more to his statement than he was letting on.

“Oh no, please,” he panicked, a look of horror crossing his face. Of course, you wouldn’t do that to his dad, and he knew it deep down. Still, the idea of involving his father seemed to sober him up just a bit, and he looked at you with a pleading expression. “Don’t call him. I can handle it,” he insisted, his voice trembling slightly.

“So you better start sobering up, Lizewski,” you said with a smile, but your tone was firm. You knew that getting him home safely was your priority, and seeing him in this state was a reminder of just how vulnerable he could be. The balance between teasing and concern was a delicate one, and you wanted to ensure he knew you were there for him, no matter what.

Dave nodded, his expression a mix of regret and determination. He tried to sit up straighter, but his head lolled back against the wall. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, the words barely audible over the noise of the party. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble.”

“You’re not causing trouble,” you reassured him, gently patting his shoulder. “But we need to get you home. Can you walk, or do you need me to call a ride?” Your voice was soft yet firm.

Dave took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “I think I can walk,” he said, though his wobbling stance suggested otherwise. He took a tentative step, his legs unsteady and his balance precarious.

You managed to get Dave out into the fresh air. Luckily, the party was just a few blocks from your house, so it wasn’t a long walk. Dave had obviously lied about being able to walk—he could hardly stand. He collapsed onto the grass, and you rolled your eyes in exasperation.

You knew you couldn’t do it yourself, so you decided to call Todd, who was also at the party, hoping he wasn’t in a similar state as Dave.

“Todd?” you said into the phone, trying to keep your voice steady. “Can you come out in front of the house and help me get Lizewski home?” you asked, glancing over at the wasted Dave lying on the ground.

“I’m coming,” Todd replied, his voice determined. He clearly didn’t know what was waiting for him.

You kept an eye on Dave, who was now mumbling incoherently to himself. His usually sharp and witty demeanor was nowhere to be found, replaced by the drunken ramblings of someone who had definitely had too much to drink.

A few moments later, Todd appeared, looking relatively sober and ready to help. “Oh man, he’s really out of it,” Todd remarked, taking in the sight of Dave sprawled on the grass.

“Yeah, he is,” you replied with a wry smile. “Let’s get him home before he decides to start singing or something.”

Todd chuckled and nodded, bending down to help you lift Dave to his feet. With a bit of effort and coordination, the two of you managed to steady him and start the slow journey back to your house. Dave leaned heavily on both of you, his steps unsteady but grateful for the support.

“I want to kiss both of you,” Dave slurred, looking at you, then dramatically tilting his head towards Todd.

You and Todd shared a look, and you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but smile. “Being drunk isn’t an excuse for acting gay, man,” Todd said, narrowing his eyes at Dave. Todd definitely wasn’t completely sober either.

Dave giggled, clearly amused by his own bold statement. “I mean it,” he insisted, though his words were heavily slurred. “You guys are the best.”

“You can start reciting love sonnets next,” you pointed out as you tried to steady Dave’s walk.

“Alright!” Dave exclaimed with a slurred laugh, his enthusiasm unrestrained by his inebriation. He was clearly up for the challenge, even if his words were stumbling over each other.

“Please no!” Todd yelled, his voice filled with mock horror. The idea of a drunken Dave reciting love sonnets was terrifying for your ears. Todd’s exaggerated reaction only added to the absurdity of the situation, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the playful exchange.

You finally saw your front door, your eyes flickering with hope. You gave Todd a nod. “Okay, Romeo, say goodbye to your Juliet,” you said, as Todd let go of him.

Dave wobbled a bit but managed to stay upright, giving Todd a lopsided grin. “Goodbye, Juliet,” he said dramatically, attempting a bow but nearly losing his balance. You and Todd both chuckled at his theatrics.

“Thanks for the help,” you said, looking at Todd as you held Dave by his waist, his arm around your neck. “Can you make it home?” you assured yourself as you asked Todd.

“Yep,” Todd said confidently, waving to you with a grin.

You opened the door to your house, relieved that nobody was home. If your parents saw Dave like this, they would probably forbid you from hanging out with him. The thought of explaining the situation to them was something you were glad to avoid.

You led Dave to your room, where he promptly collapsed onto your bed. You took off his shoes, shaking your head at the state he was in. “Sit,” you commanded, trying to maintain some semblance of order.

Dave sat up, his movements sluggish and uncoordinated. You reached for the hem of his shirt, wanting to change it since it was smelly and stained with throw-up. “I love you, Y/n,” he confessed, his voice a mix of sincerity and intoxication.

“Shut up,” you said, rolling your eyes and trying to ignore the flutter in your chest. His confession made you feel something, but you pushed it aside for the moment. “Hands up,” you commanded again. Dave obediently raised his hands, allowing you to take off his shirt.

As you removed his shirt, you couldn’t help but glance at his bare chest, especially his abs. He had mentioned that he had been working out lately, but damn, seeing the results in person was quite the revelation. You felt a mixture of surprise and admiration, but you quickly refocused on the task at hand.

You grabbed a clean shirt you had once decided to keep and helped him put it on. “Much better,” you said, trying to maintain a sense of normalcy despite the fluttering emotions inside you.

“Now pants,” you said, you couldn’t believe you were really doing this. You forced him to open the button and zip of his jeans.

As you took hold of his pants, rolling them down to his ankles, Dave looked at you with a mischievous grin. “Y/n, you are an animal,” he teased, clearly enjoying the situation despite his intoxicated state.

“You wish,” you replied, rolling your eyes as you threw his sweatpants from your drawer at him. The absurdity of the situation was not lost on you, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at how the night had turned out. Dave struggled a bit to pull on the sweatpants, his coordination not quite up to par, but he eventually managed.

You gave him a blanket as he comforted himself in your bed, still leaving enough space for you to fit. “I love you, you are the best,” he mumbled, his eyes half-closed as he watched you changing. You didn’t really mind his gaze; in fact, it felt oddly reassuring to have him there, even in his drunken state.

“You better,” you said with a smile, the words laced with affection as you turned away to change into your own sleepwear. The room was quiet except for the soft rustling of the sheets and Dave’s gentle breathing. The events of the night played back in your mind, and despite the chaos, you felt a deep sense of contentment.

Once you were changed, you climbed into bed next to Dave, careful not to disturb him. He shifted slightly, making room for you and reaching out to pull you closer. The warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his breathing brought you a sense of comfort.

As you lay there, the weight of the night’s events slowly lifted, replaced by the simple joy of being close to someone you cared about deeply. Dave’s earlier confession echoed in your mind, and while you had brushed it off at the time, you couldn’t help but feel a flutter of emotion at his words.

The morning after was a bit hectic. Dave had the biggest and his first hangover ever. You gave him some meds as he sat at the kitchen island, his head in his hands, regretting everything as you made breakfast.

“What everything did I say?” he asked carefully, his voice filled with a mix of curiosity and dread.

Your smile turned mischievous, but you didn’t look at him, keeping your attention on breakfast. “You sure you want to hear it?”

Dave groaned, even though he wanted to know, he was scared, fearing the worst. You turned around and handed him a plate of scrambled eggs.

You leaned against the kitchen counter, looking at him with a mix of amusement and concern. “You wanted to kiss Todd, almost threw up, and wanted to recite love sonnets,” you started, watching as Dave’s eyes widened in horror. “And you said multiple times that you love me and need me,” you added, your voice becoming quieter as you spoke.

Dave’s head shot up, and he yelled, “I did what?!” The loudness of his own voice seemed to make his headache even worse, and he winced in pain. “I said I love you?”

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. “Yeah, you did. Several times, actually.” You watched as Dave’s expression shifted from shock to embarrassment.

“Oh my god,” Dave breathed out. “I’m never letting Todd mix drinks again,” he tried to make it Todd’s fault.

“You mixed them yourself,” you corrected him, shrugging. Dave’s face turned a shade redder as he remembered the events of the previous night. He looked like he wanted to disappear from the world after all the disaster he caused.

“Y/n?” He broke the silence, his voice tentative. You turned to him, giving him a nod to show you were listening. “And do you love me?” Your heart dropped, and for a moment, you thought he was still drunk. But as you looked into his eyes, you realized he was completely serious and sober. The vulnerability and sincerity in his gaze were unmistakable.

You took a deep breath, your mind racing with thoughts and emotions. This wasn��t how you had imagined having this conversation, but here it was, staring you right in the face.

"Yeah," you said, smiling softly. "I do." You had just admitted you had feelings for your best friend after denying it for years.

In the end, drunk Dave was actually pretty useful in uncovering long-buried feelings.

[forsaken-headcanons]

Mafioso + Elliot dude clocking in, this time with Elliot and Killer match ups + their vibes

—Elliot and John Doe matches feel very nostalgic for the former. Since WAAPP was made back in 2007 (technically 2009, since the original was taken down for copyright infringement), Elliot's only 1—3 years younger than John Doe's code depending on how old you consider WAAPP. Yeah, it's been gradually replaced with revamped code since WAAPP still gets updates even in the modern era. But there's still that sickening sense of twisted nostalgia whenever Elliot comes across John Doe's corruption in the map.

...Sometimes he has nightmares about whether or not he could be corrupted like that too. He doesn't know how much old code he has left in him, after all. Never even thought about it until being forsakened.

—Elliot and Jason matches tend to either go one of two ways: Elliot gets wounded so bad he can barely walk or is dead, Elliot easily survives the round with little to no effort involved. It's typically the former since he has a nasty habit of pushing low health survivors out of the way of Jason, taking the blow himself so that the others have a chance to run away/stun.

Guest 1337 usually frets a lot over Elliot during these rounds; he also tends to fuss over the pizza boy whenever he gets badly wounded for pulling some absolutely abhorrent shenanigans. Smth smth Guest 1337 probably asked one of these matches if Elliot felt like he was an expendable part of the team, which left the man in question stuck in a mental bootloop (like when a computer tries to boot up over and over again to no avail).

—Elliot and 1x1x1x1... nothing interesting outside of Elliot getting peeved whenever the latter starts talking about his job. 1x1x1x1 is the embodiment of hate, so Elliot opts to view him like a rude customer that isn't entirely morally opposed to murdering the delivery boy.

—Elliot and C00lkidd is where the fun lies, especially since Elliot knew the latter when he was much younger. He's familiar with how c00lkidd used to act and what he used to look like. This is probably when Elliot starts getting the inkling of an idea that something's behind all of this, because c00lkidd wasn't murderous nor too naive to realize snapping necks didn't cause major injury. The possibility grows stronger when c00lkidd mentions Elliot looking "familiar" for the first time. Of course he looks familiar, you used to love exploiting at his work place!

The worst part about all of this is c00lkidd's pizza delivery attack. If you want Elliot to pinpoint a moment in time when he knew he was in hell or some kind of purgatory, seeing that attack for the first time would be it. The thing is: those aren't just flesh monsters. Those were Elliot's old coworkers, faces still intact enough to offer a level of recognition— offer a name in rare cases.

Oh God. I didn't even think about the Pizza Delivery minions like that before. Maybe I should have.

[nostalgiclittlespace]

May we see some CG!Blitzø and Little!Stolas please?

This takes place during Sinsmas, and Stolas has regressed super young at Blitzø's apartment after Octavia got angry with him and disowned him (this also takes place before the Sinsmas party).

Boop! Here you go, friend! I had to rewatch the episodes before writing this, but they gave me so many thoughts of hurt/comfort for the two of them. Enjoy! (And yes, Christmasy Sinmasy title despite it being March)

SFW AGE REGRESSION FIC. DNI IF NSFW, KINK, PROSHIP, OR SIMILAR. DO NOT REPOST TO OTHER SITES

Title: Have yourself a merry little Sinmas

Pairing: CG!Blitzø & Little!Stolas

Wordcount: 1205

Description: After confronting Andrealphus and getting disowned by Octavia, Stolas is stressed and regressed—a terrible combination already, but even worse on a holiday! Blitzø does his best to cheer him up with lots of kindness and love (Hurt/comfort)

TW: Mention of being disowned, alcohol is implied once, depression, dissociation

Have Yourself a Merry Little Sinmas

Stolas was obviously depressed.  Not only that, but also very Little.

And who could blame him?  How else were you supposed to react after such traumatizing experiences?  When your own daughter disowned you?

As he wandered around his small kitchen preparing a snack of cereal for the prince, Blitzø couldn’t help but feel guilty for all that had happened.  Especially considering the role he played in Octavia’s decision to boot her father out of her life…I didn’t deserve such a sacrifice in the first place, let alone one that cost him his daughter, he thought miserably, recalling the fateful day when Stolas came to his rescue, stripped of his status, and consequently ruined his life (well, at least for the next 100 years of it)

  Blitzø sighed, shaking the despondent thoughts away.  Guilt could wait and it wouldn’t change anything. He would make things right, eventually at least, but for now all he could do was take care of his boyfriend.  

The prince’s eyes were glazed over, a blank stare overtaking his usually sharp and observant features.  He hadn’t moved from the couch since they returned to the apartment that afternoon.  Furthermore, he did not seem willing to discuss or process his feelings; the tears had dried up on the way home, since replaced by an eerie silence and that empty stare.  Lack of communication and movement combined most likely meant he was in one of his youngest headspaces.

Blitzø stared at him worriedly, pondering the best course of action.  The Sinmas party was only hours away; and while the guests themselves were the least of his worries, leaving Stolas so overwhelmed and surrounded by strangers was concerning.

Should he cancel the party altogether?  Technically it had Stolas’s best interests in mind, but the prince would undoubtedly feel guilty and Loona disappointed, so was it really worth it?  

He could tell Loona to keep the gathering small, limit it to her closest friends, Millie, and Moxie though.  Usually he enjoyed throwing ragers for the holidays, no matter how much he regretted it the next morning thanks to headaches and a trashed apartment, but this seemed like the perfect excuse to tone down the festivities. 

With that resolve, Blitzø sent his daughter a quick text, requesting only a small group of friends to be invited.  That’s done, he thought as Loona replied with a thumbs up.  But what can I do to actually help him feel better?

That answer came a little faster; he had a Sinsmas present already wrapped and hidden in his bedroom.  While Stolas had said he didn’t celebrate the holiday, it didn’t stop Blitzø from wanting to share the festivities and traditions with him, and that included having an excuse to give him a gift.

He sent a quick glance towards Stolas’s still frame, where he still sat unmoving on the couch.  Creeping quietly to not disturb or distress him, Blitzø tiptoed into his bedroom.  He had hidden the little gift box on top of his closet, it’s cheerful paper and sparkling bow promising smiles and happiness to its awaiting recipient.

Blitzø carried it reverently as he returned to the main room of the apartment.  Stolas still had not moved, so he took up the bowl of cereal in his other hand and returned to Stolas’ side.  

“Hey, handsome, got you a snack,” the imp smiled crookedly, holding out the bowl and setting the present on the floor, out of immediate sight.  “You didn’t eat lunch, you must be real hungry by now.”

Stolas didn’t reply; his eyes briefly flickered to Blitzø when he began speaking, but his gaze had since returned to the wall.  Not a great sign, but the caregiver was not deterred.  He took one of Stolas’s feathered hands into his own, giving it a light squeeze.

“Want to play?  Watch some TV?” Blitzø suggested.

Stolas blinked again, slowly processing the options given.  A look of overwhelm crossed his already worn, stressed features, before shrugging, lost.

“How about we put on a movie and have some snuggles?” Blitzø offered, seeing that his Little had no interest in making decisions at the moment.  

TV and close contact was their go to on bad days; when both could relax without the pressure of talking or straining their energy on crawling around the floor to play. 

Agreeing, Stolas nodded.  A bit of the tension in his limbs eased, as Blitzø smiled at him encouragingly.  With a yawn, he curled up and laid his head on his caregiver’s lap.  There he completely deflated, muscles slack and eyelids drooping.  Blitzø himself relaxed, glad his Little was cooperating with his attempted comforts.  

“Alright, buddy,” he grinned softly, running a hand through his already mussed feathers.  

Ordinarily, he might attempt to indoctrinate the Goethals into Spirit or My Little Pony (the magnum opus of the Sinner’s race), but he knew better than introducing something new at such a stressful time.  Stolas had his own favorites and comfort shows; the perfect picking for a day marred by turbulent emotions.

So, the imp reached forward to snatch the remote from the coffee table, careful not to jostle Stolas in the process.  It only took a minute to scroll through his streaming services and find The Owl House.  Unironically, his prince loved it; he would watch it for hours on end, sometimes even choosing it over playtime.  

Blitzø selected the episode that left off the last time they binged the series.  Stolas cooed softly, already seeming calmed by the familiar scene and characters that unfolded on the TV screen.  

“Oh yeah, I’ve got a surprise for you,” Blitzø grinned, picking up the present box from the floor.  “Merry Sinsmas.”

Stolas’s eyes widened, a faint glisten returning to them as he took in the sight of his gift.  He fingers flexed as he reached up for it, grabby hands.  Blitzø breathed a silent sigh of relief as he handed it over; it was another good sign that Stolas was reacting despite his sadness.

With fumbling movements, the prince tore away the wrapping paper and ribbons.  A little light returned to his eyes, which brightened further after he pulled the box open and revealed its contents.  Eagerly, he reached in and pulled out an elaborate paci, decorated with gold glitter and a red heart charm on its center.  Fittingly, the words “My Heart” were beaded onto the handle.

Stolas cooed, an almost smile on his face as he immediately pushed the pacifier into his mouth.  Looking up at Blitzø, seeming so sweet and innocent and cute, the imp couldn’t help smile adoringly down at him.

Stolas didn’t say anything, not that Blitzø expected him to, but his nuzzle against the imp’s stomach, pure enthusiasm, and soft coos showed his gratitude well enough.

“You’re welcome, love,” his caregiver laughed lightly.

Considering everything that had transpired that day, their position was far from perfect.  Already it has been a rough month, and Blitzø was expecting the next one to be even harder.  But for now, he counted his blessings.  He and Stolas were safe and secure, sheltered by each other’s company.  They couldn’t predict the future, but they could make the present as comfortable as possible and enjoy a merry little Sinsmas together.

[toniko]

brief words about impersonalization and Kim Soleum (spoilers up to 161

Kim Soleum rides such a hypocritical line between believing this is all a fictional world and the realness of this world. I really don’t blame him actually, the combination of toxic work culture and the base setting of him being transported into the world is like really numbing.

I mean the field exploration team uses masks that depict them as animals and as good of an item it is for exploration, that is one of the elements that dehumanizes them. It’s one thing for the groups to be split into the alphabet but it’s a whole different thing when you identify every employee by their group. You literally can not differentiate the employees in the logs (I mean look at that interview with Baek Saheon, this may be a bit of a bad example because I can see why anonymity would be kept here. Ah but it seems to be like that with every document? Mystery person here, mystery group here, finishing team). It’s awfully impersonal and while an interpretation of it just being useful code names is valid, in a profession with a high death rate, I doubt that’s the only reason. Oh yeah, highly expendable employees. But we can’t say we’re killing people, dare say individuals with their own entire lives and histories, so company employees sound a lot better. Everyone perpetuates it, it’s easy, team members die quickly and often, deal with it. Except not really right? Being human is to inherently care for your fellow human.

But hiring employees with looser personalities does help in that aspect. Capitalism win for the Daydream co. I guess. I have a small comment about how the Supernatural Management Bureau (now what is it called in the fan-translation? I’ll replace it someone let me know, I’m picking off namu wiki rn). It does purposely hire righteous but orderly folks but it seems both Agent Bronze & Choi are affected by past member deaths.

It feels like Kim Soleum keeps trying to draw a line and it doesn’t work. He says that he will have left before [big catastrophic event] but unconsciously forms attachments super quickly. I think his time away from the griptok and wiki is really making him accept the reality of these characters. Agent Choi’s survival gives Soleum a little brain blast acceptance that character’s fates really can change. Of course, didn’t it take a shockingly long time for that? I think it’s implication that he was still using the same excuse of them all being from a fictional world to shield his mentality. Gotta do what you gotta do Soleum.

He does all in his power to keep as many people alive (because he’s an empath 🙂‍↕️, we know) but the hangman game was obviously super personal.

btw I think Soleum has a bias in how he treats “named” characters as well. This is just my personal opinion, but the relationship with Lee Jaheon felt purposely professional up until recently (say 130s or so I think, I’m just rambling out), since Soleum inner monologue tended to emphasize the elements he remembered. The reader would notice that Lee Jaheon really does care a lot but you might have to dig through a couple of lizard and defeating darkness through force comments. It feels this stereotype he has of the named characters stick a lot longer! It makes sense, in the kind of format the original records were in, they were in fact character stereotypes to fill the semi-anthology esque story structure (would it be appropriate just to say SCP foundation?). Again, this divorce from the griptok is what I think a big contributor of his reality check is.

There’s also this uh, Baek Saheon in the room that I haven’t talked about. Probably the meanest thing Soleum does in this novel is bullying this guy lol. But that’s because Kim Soleum’s interpretation of him is so overblown and far in time compared to the current guy we know. At this point, I’d pin down Baek Saheon as a character that would maybe let someone die but wouldn’t kill them himself (yet). But that’s it, Kim Soleum having read so far into his story, operates with the assumption that he’s a comically evil bad guy. But this guy, all he does with his hypnosis pen is hide away like a mouse? Sorry for being a much more horrible person, I would’ve tried stealing his items but he was doing something so pointless even Braun didn’t think to let Soleum know (now is that a whole nother thing? Braun being more suspicious leading up to his darkness arc? Yeah.)

Braun being an all powerful ghost story entity btw without Kim Soleum having to mask his identity almost completely was like the total kryptonite of Soleum’s “I care too much about everyone’s lives but I can’t do that because they are all fictional but also alive”. Soleum isn’t against making relationships but he often calls Braun his only friend. Isn’t that a bit out of touch Soleum, I think there’s a couple of people who would find a friend in you.

J3, for example, who was looking for him after he went missing! Actually, color me a conspiracist but I think it’s much less a self esteem issue but a reaction of realizing the people he’s (trying to) push away actually like and care about him. I mean he’s trying to get out of this fictional world. He doesn’t want the people of this world to care about him, so he’s shocked at the revelation that they do. So I don’t think it’s out of a dislike of himself but in many ways, he’s forced to act unlike himself because of this world. Well anyway that’s just my opinion anyway…

some final personal (personal) thoughts down here…

Kim Soleum’s monologue drives me nuts. I know! That’s the whole novel! But it’s something like Baek Deoksu’s style, where I sit there and shake my head going “Young man, I know you’re playing tricks with me”. I mean seriously, it’s not a bad thing. Just don’t make me work hard every chapter hooo, I’m a lazy kind of guy yk read for fun and leisure. ghost story ooo so scary…

[momo-minomo]

Fic Fairy Friday: Tim and Jason Brotherhood

I love Jason and Tim, they're hands down the most chaotic and petty people in their entire family. I wish they'd be teamed up more often in the comics because every time they do the snark and sass is everywhere!

Unfortunately the Batfam fandom has developed a lot of misconceptions about their past and relationship. The main misconceptions are thinking Jason hates Tim and what happened during their fight in Titan's Tower. Fandom thinks Jason came there to murder his replacement and Tim was ruthlessly beaten down and begged for his hero to stop. In reality, Jason had grown to hate the very idea of Robin (a child soldier fighting and dying for Batman's neverending war) and came to Titan's Tower to convince Tim to quit as well as to prove to himself that Tim wasn't better than him and that Bruce didn't just trade up for a better Robin when Jason died. When talking didn't work he decided that to save this kid's life (and prove to himself that he wasn't just an inferior failure) he was going to MAKE him quit.

But if Batman, Alfred, and Lady Shiva can't control Tim Drake Jason didn't stand a snowball's chance in hell so Tim put up a hell of a fight and even when he was bleeding on the floor, barely conscious but always happy to be petty and go for the low blow, he went out hitting Jason where it hurt by defiantly stating that even beaten and bloody he is STILL better than Jason. They've long since patched things up between them, tho, and more than once in the comics Jason has made it clear that Tim is his most trusted brother. There was even that period just before Tim became RR where Jason was trying to recruit Tim to be HIS Robin so Jason could be gun!Batman and Tim was so annoyed and done with him lol. I do still enjoy the accidental brother or woobie Tim fics and will probably link a few exceptional ones here and there but I'd love to see more fics with the two being equals that trust and rely on each other, too.

This Dark Ceiling Without a Star by Miss_Lazy_Tuesday

Summary:

“For fuck’s sake, your chatter is going to drive me crazy faster than this stupid spell.” “Then you talk!” “There’s no point!” Jason snaps. “I can feel it, okay. It’s—there’s no emotion behind it, it’s not using my thoughts. It’s just a bunch of weird Greek echoing in my brain and a compulsion to act. And it’s getting stronger. Talking isn’t going to slow it down.” “Then what will slow it down?” After five long seconds of silence, Tim gives into the urge and viciously jabs his fist into Jason’s leg for the second time. “Goddammit, why?” Jason snaps, green briefly sparking in his eyes before disappearing just as quickly. “You are not seriously going to just sit there and wait to die.” “The hell do you care anyway?” “Because I don’t want you to die! Obviously!” “You fucking should.”

Momo's Notes: These boys need SO MUCH THERAPY! Tim and Jason are trapped underneath a collapsed building, Tim is slowly bleeding out, and Jason has been cursed to sacrifice himself to help power up a spell. So of course being robins they're going to remain calm, work together, and not spend their precious little oxygen arguing, right? Right? Oh goddammit boys!

Life in the Fast Lane by TheResurrectionist

Summary:

“So, let me get this straight,” Dick said, frowning, “You stole a car, kidnapped Tim, got in a high-speed chase, stole another car, fought a bunch of cartel members, and blew up a chop shop...all to get a minivan back?” “First of all, Timothy was a willing participant,” Jason said, crossing his arms, “And when you put it like that, it sounds bad.” “Jason, it sounds bad no matter how I put it!”

Momo's Notes: It's both refreshing and incredibly funny to see Tim and Jason just being normal brothers that annoy the shit out of each other while they're stealing cars and trying to take down asshole gangs out of costume. This entire fic is just chaotic shenanigans and It's so fun.

Good Fellows by thatcuriouscat

Summary:

After rescuing Bruce from floating around the past, Tim is Not Okay. What comes next after losing everything that really matters? Tim’s got some thoughts. So do the rest of the family. And Ra’s al Ghul. …And the Joker. Jason looks murderous. “God DAMN it, Tim, this was not the situation I had in mind when I generously taught you how to be a younger brother out of the kindness of my heart!” Even more shocked by this, Dick asks incredulously, “You, Jason Todd-Wayne, tried to give younger brother lessons? Where did you even get the audacity?” Jason rounds on him hotly. “Bitch, you wish you knew how to be a younger brother!” “FOCUS,” Tim demands. “We’ve got like, an hour to pull this off.”

Momo's Notes: I know I recommended this one for the Dick and Tim brotherhood recs but this story revolves around the three oldest batbrothers and has equally good characterization and interactions for Jason as it did with Dick. Jason's pov pages are some of the most witty and fun in the whole story and the brotherhood that forms between Tim and Jason over the course of this fic is unique.

The Right Substitution is Key by AddictedApple

Summary:

“The Red Hood has been good for Gotham,” Robin continued. “Crime in Park Row decreased by sixty one percent almost as soon as you showed up, and that’s even taking into account all the crime you commit. Drug overdoses have decreased by twenty two percent in adults and seventy nine percent in minors. Homeless minors are ninety two percent less likely to—” “Kid,” Jason interrupted. “Enough statistics. What the hell is this about?” Robin slowly lowered the tablet with his powerpoint presentation and looked up at Red Hood. “You care about Gotham,” Robin summarized. “Gotham needs Batman. Batman is missing and so is Nightwing. We need you to fill in for Batman.” “You want me to cover Batman’s patrols?” Jason clarified. “No,” Robin said. “I want you to be Batman.” Jason bluescreened. (Or: Batman and Nightwing mysteriously disappear before Red Hood has even started antagonizing them, Robin is desperate, Gotham needs Batman, and Red Hood is Batman-Shaped.)

Momo's Notes: An AU where Jason calmed the hell down before returning to Gotham, both Batman and Nightwing go missing, and Tim doesn't know who this new Red Hood guy is but statistics don't lie, he's making a positive difference in Gotham. That makes him the PERFECT candidate to take over as Batman until they can find him. Jason can't believe ANY of these idiots survived while he was "gone"

a kidnapping a day (keeps the board of directors away) by doingthewritethings

Summary:

And, well. He gets impatient when he’s already in pain. He’s still got fifteen minutes until the meeting is set to begin, and the chances of him slapping Mr. Smith-Harguson so hard that the man’s toupee flies off are rising exponentially by the second. Yeah, that settles it. He needs an excuse to get out of here, and he needs it fast. - for the prompt 'jason todd, lover of fake kidnappings, meets tim drake, lover of chaos', but it... got out of hand. happy pride

Momo's Notes: There are no words for how much I love Batfamily shenanigans and Tim and Jason are always the perfect combo for said chaotic shenanigans! Basically Tim and Jason's version of brotherly bonding is to stage fake kidnappings to get Tim out of whatever soul-sucking responsibility he desperately wants to escape from today starting with a board meeting on a day the chronic pain is especially horrific. This fic also has queer and trans batfam which makes it just chef's kiss

Little Red and the Big Bad Hood by CrzyFun

Summary:

Olivia Draper had been a good idea at first. She could pass for older than Tim could pull off while masculine and women really could get into places easier if they had a pretty face. With makeup and some stylish-yet-inexpensive clothes, Olivia could pull off most undercover ops. She was Tim’s Matches Malone. Then Hood had shown up on the scene. When Jason met Olivia, he hadn't intended to pull a Bruce and take the scrappy teen informant under his wing. She just kept showing up where he was doing business. He had no other choice than to keep an eye on her. And kit her out with armor so she wouldn't accidentally get shot. And make sure she was being treated fairly by her mysterious boss. And, okay, maybe become her big brother.

Momo's Notes: I love a good fic with a genderfluid Tim Drake! This is an au where Tim decided his main alternate ID to gather info would be Olivia Draper rather than Alvin. Cue Red Hood getting very annoyed at the obviously underaged girl sneaking into clubs full of dangerous gangsters. This one is a fun accidental enemy to caretaker with a chaotic and sassy Tim that knows he can get on Hood's every nerve with zero consequences with bonus outraged and annoyed Stephanie!

Last Laugh, First Steps by CloakedSparrow

Summary:

Running a large portion of the Gotham underground as a benevolent crime lord was harder than Jason thought it would be, but still well within the range of what he could handle. All in all, it wasn’t that different from being the type of vigilante Bruce had trained him to be become. He was feeling like he was doing a decent job as part of the Bat Family these days. The Wayne family, he wasn't so sure about. Until he receives an unexpected call from Dick while on patrol one night and the words he hears next change everything. Tim's hurt...the Joker's involved. B and Little D are out of town. Cass is here with me and it’ll take us too long t- “Where?” His death. His anger. His father. His role as a brother, as a son, as a grandson. Jason decides its time to take it all on. If he's going to help his little brother recover, then he's going to have to heal himself as well.

Momo's Notes: This is technically part 42 of a series kind of generically called "Collected Bat-Family Stories" that are actually all set in the same AU. Last Laugh is an amazing entry in the series that can be read as a stand alone fic but I'd honestly recommend going into the series page and starting from the beginning. There are fics in there that aren't Tim or Jason-centric but it's all part of one narrative and Tim and Jason are really the main characters of the whole series and it's so fun to watch their brotherhood grow and deepen. If you're a fan of Wayne Family Adventures I think you'll love this one since the characterizations are very similar imho (aside from Damian but he's slowly growing as a person over the story and will eventually get there).

middle children must unionize by Poteto

Summary: Jason realizes no one is taking care of Tim - not even Tim himself. He decides to do something about it.

Momo's Notes: Jason doesn't like how things went down between Tim and Dick when their big brother gave Robin to Damian and decides if no one else is gonna take care of the 16 year old like the kid he is and not the adult they expect him to be then he'll just have to step up and do it himself.

Playlists:

[vtrianglethoughtsvtrianglelll]

WEEKS AGO. DREAMSCAPE... [We enter on a scene from Fords mind, He and his Muse were playing a healthy game of interdimensional chess and discussing the progress of their portal as well as other fun conversation topics: Like drywall, and Fords most recent discoverys]

FORD: Woah, Bill where are you going? (fords smile quickly falls off his face)

BILL: LOOK SIXER IT'S BEEN FUN BUT IVE GOT SOME PRETTY IMPORTANT STUFF TO DO....

FORD: But we only just started?

BILL: ...RECENTLY IVE NOTICED YOU'VE BEEN SLACKING A BIT ON PORTAL DUTY.

I JUST DONT WANT TO BE A DISTRACTION TO YOU WHEN WERE SO... CLOSE

FORD: Of course I'm sure the portal will be functional very soon but... I FEEL....

You know you've always been beneficial to my work. I FEEL I work faster when- BILL: REALLY?

[Bill turns quickly to give Ford a 'genuine' 'smile']

WELL, DONCHA KNOW I LIKE TO SPEND TIME WITH YOU TOO SIXER FORD: Ah- you do? Oh, that's wonderful to hear Bill! (Ford continues to praise Bill and thinks about what wonderful things they'll be able to accomplish together.)

[As Ford continues bill looks back at him his own visage mirrored in the giant tapestry behind him]

BILL: Yeah...HaHA .... W O N D E R F U L ....

<<<PREVIOUS PAGES

LATER THAT DAY

[Bill reclines in his throne drinking an unknown but STRONG liquid from a twirly silly straw]

BILL: AnD TheNn hE SAiD ThATs WonDERfuLl!

PYRONICA: Sounds like you've got that guy totally wrapped around your little thinger!

BILL: YEAHH ThEH PoRtALz GONNA BE DONE LIKE SUPER SooN

[Bill takes a big swig from his drink]

GLUG GLUG GLUG

BILL: MORE DRINKS FOR EVERYONE!!

[The henchmaniacs all cheer and pump their fists in the air obnoxiously]

BILL: WE'RE GONNA KEEP THIS PARTY GOING FOR AN ETERNITY!!!

[Henchmaniacs continue cheering and start to chant Bills name like a popular Science show does in its intro]

[Bills eye turns into four dots that move in unison replacing each others position and moving in a regular almost hypnotizing pattern]

BILL: SOON ENOUGH THAT PORTAL WILL OPEN RIGHT UP aND aLL OUR WEIRDNESS WILL LEAK THruHGH!

[Bill turns and points at the portal area which is directly beneath his throne a circle inset within a Triangle much like the one in fords Lab except upside down.]

INFINITE REALITYS WILL BE MINE!!

[Bill dances obnoxiously on the Dancefloor spouting extra limbs to preform the sickest of moves]

[Bill and Pyronica sing a karaoke duet of "Apple" by Charli.xex from the hit album brat mostly because that song is stuck in my head, and I think it's funny]

[The whole gang once again coming together on the dance floor going wild]

<<< 2 weeks later >>>

[The party is now comparatively more sparse Bill still standing in the center looking a bit more disorented than usual, Keyhole continues to dance on top of Hecktorgon with no sign of stopping (he's crazy) theres a handful of cups that are scattered on the floor.]

BILL: GIRL, I THINK I DISCOVERED A NEW COLOR

PHYRONICA: WOW! << PRESENT DAY >>

[Seemingly recovering from the previous down the group is holding a Pie eating contest, the Pies are of corse given sentience before so that they can have some fun with it, they are the most pure beings in all the multiverse. Keyhole and 8-ball are already devoreing these pies, but bill just reclines in the air.]

BILL: I'M GIVING YOU CHUMPS A HEADSTART

HENCHMANIACS: eat eat eat EAT EAT EAT EAT! EAT!! EAT!!! EAT!!!!

BILL: TIME FOR MY {SPECIAL MOVE} [Bill starts to unzip his exoskeleton from his body so that he can eat a disturbing quantity of living pie creatures. The henchmaniacs encourage him, except for one voice which only utters a horrified and disoriented "huh".]

[As bill continues to reveal his horrifying pie devouring maw a scream picks up in the background getting louder and louder]

AHHHHHHHHH!!! OH GOD NO PLEASE AHHHHHHHHH!!!

BILL: GUYS COULD YOU ACTUALLY STOP SCREAMING.

HENCHMANIACS: Its not us boss!

AHHHHHHHH!

[panning over to the orign of the sound fiddleford screams in horrer at the monsters before him the rift behind him does not fill the whole circle indicating its instability. He covers his eyes but at the same time cannot help but look]

FIDDLEFORD: AHHHHHHHHHHHH MAKE IT STOP!!!

[Bill and the Henchmaniacs look in shock at this development, Bill still has his exoskeleton removed flapping open for all to have nightmares about]

KRYPTOS: Ah snap, is that your human Bill?

[Bill quickly pops back into his smaller more human palatable form]

BILL: SHUT UP KRYPTOS!

[Bill floats over to Fiddlefords screaming broken form]

BILL: HAYYYYY THERE KID! YOUR NOT SUPPOST TO BE HERE. LONG TIME NO SEE HUH? YOU TWO SURE DID ACCOMPLISH A LOT WHILE I WAS GONE

FIDDLEFORD: I ain't seen you before in my -w- wait no NO I have, once, in fords private study . . .

[Fiddleford becomes angrey pointing an accusitory finger at the Triangle, everything hes been working on with ford seems to suddenly make so much sense to him]

you're THAT infernal demon that's been posesin' him! I knew you were a bad s-symbol you gave him the idea about the portal didn't you?

I have to tell ford!

BILL: *bill jut talks over him*

WOW! HOW SMART YOU ARE!

YOU GET A

G O L D S T A R

[Bill blasts Fiddleford with a starshaped lazer which deposits a cutsy star sticker on his forehead that says "GOOD JOB!" which immediately knocks him out.]

BILL: GREAT NOW THAT HES NOT SCREAMING ANYMORE-

[Bill hoists Fiddlefords limp body over his side like a certain DC character in a certain videogame]

ILL BE BACK SO DONT TRASH THE PLACE WHILE IM GONE. PYRONICAS IN CHARGE BECAUSE SHES MY FAVORITE. IF YOU HAVE ANY PROBLEMS WITH THAT, YOU CAN BRING ME HER HEAD ON A STICK.

[phyronica chuckles looking smugly at the rest of the group]

______________________________________________________________

<<<PREVIOUS PAGES

NEXT PAGES >>>>

[v-arbellanaris]

yes! in both situations, the government (the tevinter magisterium and, in antiva's case, the monarchy) have no central power or authority, which creates a power vacuum for other existing forces to sweep in and occupy the existing political space. in essence, both nations are being ripped apart by a power struggle.

in tevinter's case: the magisterium has been infiltrated by the venatori. neve's personal quest before minrathous is attacked implies the venatori are already holding high positions in the magisterium and are politically untouchable - a far cry from their position 10 years ago during dai. there's some ambient dialogue noting that radonis - the reigning archon - was assassinated during the minrathous attack, and his successor is hiding in nevarra. ineffective succession planning usually results in a power vacuum, as is the case in minrathous. dorian is still part of the magisterium - a big deal imho considering he was an active part of the southern inquisition and actively against the venatori - which implies the magisterium was not entirely dissolved or replaced with venatori, meaning there is still a power struggle there. ideally, we would've gotten to see some more tensions between the shadow dragons - acting on behalf of the anti-venatori magisterium members - and the threads - claiming to be acting in the interests of "the people", to highlight the exact nature of the power vacuum that's developed in tevinter.

similarly, in antiva: fulgeno ii is still the king of antiva, but the antivan monarchy lacks the military power needed to have any real authority - i suspect this is entirely by design. my reasoning is:

historically, the monarchs of antiva and the pirates/mercenaries of rialto bay have always been in a power struggle, but there's not that much detail iirc about what this looked like or how it was settled.

but we do know that asha campagna came from a family of rich merchants who were elevated to nobility - again, not much information on alonzo campagna, but asha had already been marrying their children off to other nobles by the time he ascended the throne. to make moves to shift power back to the throne, rather than to the merchants, would be to undermine her own bargaining power -- and aligning herself with the other nobility in other countries, leaves her (and her family's) position rock solid for generations to come.

viago was given the choice, as the king's bastard son, to join the crows or be exiled from antiva - he was the only one of all his siblings who chose to join the crows, which specifically makes him dangerous because as fifth talon, he's able to command crows, giving him more military pull than his father. i do personally believe that viago, and caterina, are both taking advantage of the antaam's invasion of treviso to establish power, but for differing reasons/purposes. house de riva seems to be based in salle, rather than treviso, implying viago came to treviso - his statement of "the crows rule antiva, and treviso will be free", to me, are rooted less in the crows and more uhhh one specific crow - viago, of course. i... would not be surprised if he launched a coup d'etat after this. which i suspect caterina would support, because when she hears "the crows rule antiva" she intends for that to mean... the antivan crows. which, of course, the first talon (of house dellamorte) commands.

there's also the felicissima armada, which is supposed to be the biggest maritime force in antiva. in a beautiful world, the qunari dreadnoughts would be in direct conflict with the felicissima armada, which also poses the greatest threat to the antivan merchant princes (who usually prefer to pay the armada off rather than fight them off), which would pit the antaam, the merchant princes, the felicissima armada and the crows against each other in this power struggle. isabela (who is? still part of the armada??? in datv???) has apparently redirected some of them to attack the antaam, but the exact nature of this is unclear... but a guy (gender neutral) can dream...

but you know! ymmv

There's a parallel somewhere about criminal syndicate boss Makal Damas saying "Docktown's ours," in the conversation about freeing it from the venatori and fifth talon Viago de Riva repeatedly saying "the crows rule antiva, and treviso will be free" while local "corrupt" government pushes against the crows presence but I don't have the expertise to put it together.

[lexicorp]

*plays God's Plan by Mother Mother-*

[edit: they have a Playlist now]

Sunstorm has been lingering in my brain aaannnd now theyve escaped containment sjfnskvnd

bit of lore rant under cut

So as relative standard, Sunstorm is a clone of Starscream made by Shockwave. They were presented to TC and Warp as a replacement for Star (Starscream gets rekt and peeps think he's ded for a while), made to be the idealized, perfect weapon. Shockwave had created them really as his beta test for his project of cultivating the next evolution of Cybertronians. He viewed Sunny as a partial success, given that their radioactive spark became an apparent problem quite quickly. Shockwave was still satisfied with their skill, resilience, and behavioral programming. Even when they would occasionally spout some questionable nonsense about Primus when their radiation got a bit high, it was irrelevant and an easily solved problem to Shockwave. Plus, the ridiculous energy output Sunstorm was capable of was a valuable resource to be used as a source of power for the citadel. Saved on quite a bit of energon that way lol. Speaking of energon, they rlly had to be careful when fueling of making sure their radiation was a safe level before hand so they didnt combust lol. If they're optics are red, then that's an easy indicator that they chillin.

Sunstorm very often will "translate" Shockwave to people. Insisting that Shockwave cares in his own way, and that he has the best intentions. Shockwave did kinda programmed em to be specifically loyal to him tho-- Sunstorm very much does not understand why Shockwave is imprisoned later.

They also be plagued by visions from the gods due to their heightened energy signature. Primus and Unicron sound the same to them. Unicron of course took advantage of that and starts rlly getting in their brain and manipulating em hard. I'm sure you can guess what for-

After Shockwave's imprisonment, Sunstorm starts having more trouble keeping their energy levels stable, since the citadel was decommissioned, and the others dont really know the specifics about their condition/how to handle it. Unicron's influence gets worse, and Sunstorm goes to visit Shockwave for advice. Although they aren't in their right mind anymore, so when Shockwave tries to guide them on how to expell their energy safely, they freak out that he doesn't understand. In their frenzy they almost melt Shockwave thru the bars as they're in more of a daze guided by Unicron bein like /dewit/ lol

But guards step in. They try to apprehend Sunstorm buuut they cant touch em. Sunny leaves adn there is a whole arc of that theoretical last season round them and how peeps will end up taking down unicron and Sunstorm gets a good ending.

they have a lot of issues sjnijsndv

But I think theyd still visit Shockwave later, be decent friends with Soundwave, and Thundercracker. They'd retain an aversion to Optimus, really not being a fan, much to OP's dismay smh. One quirk of theirs to Starscream that makes him find a bit of a point of conversation to start on. Star would def warm up to em /after/ all that crazed shit (Probs would even get a bit protective tbh).

[superscourge]

Could you tell us some lil fun facts about the imposter au, please? It’s genuinely so good I adore it-

i can try to loredump about it real quick!! just off the toppa my head..

just to establish what the au is again: imposter au is an au set in the idw-verse where scourge is a literal clone of sonic created by dr. starline using chaos energy in order to replace sonic! he began to think for himself too well for starline to control at some point and started seeing through his lies and manipulation, and he eventually broke away from him and went to the restoration to help him take starline down as revenge for selfishly creating him and bringing him into the world without an identity of his own..

some little tidbits ive thought up that i wanna explore in some way down the line (i could do fics or mini comics idk. depends on how i feel):

scourge keeps his true identity as a sonic clone a secret from the resistance for as long as he can, telling them his name is scourge from the start--the name he chose for himself after escaping starline--and he doesnt get his identity revealed until starline outs him during a confrontation where scourge helps the restoration bust into one of his bases but starline already knew they were coming so he made it look like scourge led them into a trap as part of a bigger plan :P

scourge and the restoration (convinced by amy) agree to help each other because they both share starline as a common enemy, but scourge is basically assigned a babysitter to watch his every move because they definitely dont feel like they can trust him after everything so far. that babysitter is silver!

silver 100% does not trust scourge for a while at first, but after spending more time with him and getting him to open up a bit more (accidentally..) and i guess kinda seeing him more as a person, they form a sorta bond that is kinda similar to sonic and tails ^^

scourge was meant as a sort of "prototype" for surge and kit! he didnt know this though until he's confronted by them later which is great bc he was already having issues with feeling like he didnt have a place in the world and then surge shows up and further hammers in that he was expendable from the start :P (this actually ties in with a mini comic ive been wanting to do for agesssss i hope im able to get it out eventually..)

shadow actually shows him how to better control his chaos energy and abilities that he's been kind of wild with up to that point! this comes in handy because the first time scourge fights surge she completely wipes the fucking floor with him, but after shadow helps him learn to use his power better (and he discovers the additional power of friendship), he's finally able to best her in battle ^^

over the course of his time with the restoration, scourge kinda learns how to be more of a person as it were :] he unintentionally makes friends and slowly realizes people actually care about him (and that he is able to be cared about in the first place), and eventually, once he finally finds security in his identity apart from being sonic's clone, he decides to stay with them as an ally!

and of course, yes, by the end of it all he does get his cool jacket and shades <3 just. probably a little redesigned lol

genuinely i have brainrot for this au occasionally. it flares up every now and then and i am obsessed w it... i love it a lot

[scentedpeachlandcreator]

I hope u're doing well! I've been reading ur blog like since 5-7 days ago, and I truly appreciate all the knowledge u share. I had decided not interact until now because, while I understood many concepts at first, some things suddenly became confusing as I kept reading. I would really appreciate it if u could explain everything I need to know from scratch to fully master the Law of Assumption and the 4D/3D concepts (I read one of your Google docs but I really got confused in some—if not most—parts.) English is not my first language, so some expressions make it harder for me to grasp everything completely. That’s why I’d be extremely grateful for a more detailed breakdown. And also, if it's not too much trouble, could you explain to me how to get CONSCIOUS to the void tonight? I know that every night we get to the void but I haven't been conscious, and I've been trying for 1 or 2 months at this point. I would really appreciate it if you could do it! Thank you so much for your time! Please continue with u so wonderful blog !!! ✨♥️

𔘓 Hello lovelyyy!

How are you? Thanks for liking my blog i appreciate it alot.

Anyway here's the breakdown:

What is the Law of assumption:

The Law of assumption is a universal law that states what you assume to be true without proof will become a fact, but that comes with persistence in the assumption.

How to manifest:

★ pick your desire: you can choose whatever desire you want to manifest, it can be multiple, a list of them, and even the unrealistic ones, there's no limit.

★ declare that you have it and accept it: of course that would feel weird at first, but the moment you decide that you already have your desires and that they're yours then it's done, accept that you have it in your imagination. (It would feel natural with times)

★ have faith: have faith in the Law and in your imagination, the Law cannot fail you and never will, your assumption has to happen because it's a Law.

★ persist: no matter what your circumstances are, and what happening in the 3d does not matter, because even if things are going worse in the 3d, you still have your desires, they are yours from the start and nothing will take it away from you, so keep sticking to your assumption and being loyal to it, you know it is real and you believe that you already have it.

4D and 3D?

When it's comes to understanding the concept of the 3d and 4d and how they both work, many individuals tend to think that both of them are seperated, but that entirely wrong, they both work together and they're not seperated.

Example:

Imagine with me the 4d (aka your imagination) as an empty pitch black room, when you imagine something or make an assumption, your desire appear instantly in the empty room, and now you see it, you have it, but let's just say you start spirling, doubting, affirming the opposite, your desire that is in the empty room start fading away and is replaced by the negative ones where you say "i don't have it" and that What the 3d gonna reflect, but if you persist in your assumption no matter what the 3d shows you, your gonna keep that assumption alive in your 4d, in the empty room, then the 3d will reflect your 4d and you'll see it physically.

That Basically how the 3d and 4d works, the 3d is just a relfector, a mirror (3d) reflecting your reflection (4d).

To understand more about the 4d and 3d read this.

What does it mean creation is finished?

Creation is finished implies that whatever you wanted already exist in your consciousness, there's million and infinite of realities where you're already the Version of yourself that is living their dream life or having that specific desire.

If you want to understand more: read this.

What does it mean to live in the state of the wish fulfilled?

I know you heard this term already but i'm about to make it simple for you: the state of the wish fulfilled is a feeling you have, the knowing feeling that your desires are yours and there's no point in looking for it in the 3d, because you just decided that it's already yours, you won't feel like "waiting" for your desires, "looking for your desires", "Desperate for your desires to show up", or "being impatient for your desires", you know you have it and that it's done, there's nothing for you to do but keep living in that state until it's show up in the 3d.

Read this and this.

How to use the Law of assumption to induce the void state?

Now before i say anything, i recommend you to read this and this to understand more about your pure consciousness aka the void state.

★Pick an affirmation for example:

"i Always induce my pure consciousness easily and effortlessly"

"everytime i fall asleep i Always end up in my pure consciousness"

"i Always wake up in my pure consciousness whenever i fall asleep"

★Believe in yourself and in your power: that is really essential, it's comes with the powerful and strong believe that you could do it and that you're already a master at inducing your pure consciousness.

★Persist in your assumption: no matter what happens in the 3d, no matter how many times you wake up in your old shitty reality and still find yourself there, keep persisting that you did induce your pure consciousness last night and that you're a master at it, do not give up, i'm telling you, that your assumption are more powerful than what the 3d throw at you, the 3d is just reflecting you old beliefs and assumption, so stick to your assumption and keep being loyal to it.

Ta-da! Easy right? Now i don't want you to stay in this shitty Reality and lock tf in!

If you have any questions you can check out this post, and this post and this post, this one and this one.

Xoxo, Eli