#this is such a nothing thought but I was primarily thinking of like

[sasheemo]

When We Collide

Chapter 14

Chapter Summary: You wake to Agatha's unsettling yet impossibly grounding presence, unspoken questions threatening to unravel a fragile moment. And just like that, walls begin to crack.

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N (very long, sorryyy): I still can’t believe it, but here we are. After exactly one month since the last chapter was published, I’m officially back! I can’t promise the creative block I’ve been struggling with for When We Collide is completely gone, but I’m really trying, and I’m so happy to continue this story.

Before you dive in, I just want to take a moment to make a small dedication:

Over the past week, I’ve received an overwhelming amount of love and support that I never expected. Moots, strangers, and even anonymous readers stepped forward in the comments of my update posts on Tumblr or slid into my DMs to show their appreciation and encouragement. You know who you are. It’s because of all of you that, in just over 24 hours, I managed to write an entire chapter after being stuck for a whole month. You gave me an incredible boost of energy and motivation. So, this chapter is for you. To my moots, followers, and each dedicated reader of When We Collide. To everyone who messaged me privately or left a comment on a post or a fic. To those who, even without reaching out directly, have always supported me with their thoughts and good vibes, waiting patiently for an update and never abandoning this story. What you’ve done, and continue to do, for me is amazing. You’ve filled me with so much love and support, and I truly hope this chapter (and the ones to come—yes, they’re coming, hehe) can serve as a proper thank-you.

It’s true that writing should primarily be for yourself, but when you receive this kind of support and encouragement, it becomes something truly special to write for others too.

Let me know what you think of the chapter, and thank you from the bottom of my heart! 💜

PS: Spoiler—I literally felt my heart break while writing a certain piece of dialogue. Had to pause, pick up the pieces, and keep going. Sorry y’all, I couldn’t resist 💔

Chapter Index

Read on AO3

You stir awake to the faint glow of the early afternoon, the light filtering softly through the edges of the curtains. For a brief, suspended moment, your mind lingers in the haze of sleep, the kind where nothing feels quite real, and you’re not entirely sure where you are. Then the weight registers.

The warm, undeniable weight of someone pressed against you.

Your breath catches, your body locking in place as you become acutely, painfully aware of Agatha’s head resting on your shoulder.

Her dark hair brushes against your neck, faintly ticklish, while her arm lies draped across your waist.

You don’t dare move. Not even a twitch.

Every nerve in your body stands at attention, screaming for you to do something. But you lie there, frozen, your heart hammering so loudly you’re sure it’ll wake her. The thought of turning your head to look at her fills you with a mixture of terror and curiosity, and you’re too paralyzed to face either.

You try—really try—to focus on the practicalities. How did this even happen? You’d climbed into bed hours ago, stiff as a board, determined to keep your distance. You’d stayed on your side, curled up awkwardly, staring at the wall like it held the answers to every question you were too afraid to ask.

But then sleep had come. Or at least something like it—a restless tangle of half-dreams and unconscious movements, shifting and turning under the weight of the night’s tension. 

At some point, the gap between you must have closed. At some point, her arm must have found its way across you.

A thousand excuses rush through your mind, each more fragile than the last, as if rationalizing the moment could make the closeness disappear. But they all crumble, leaving behind one undeniable truth: you don’t want to move. Not really.

You tell yourself it’s fear. Fear of waking her. Fear of the look on her face if she realized the position you’re in. Confusion? Annoyance? Disgust? The thought twists your stomach into painful knots. But beneath the fear, another emotion lingers, quieter and far more dangerous.

It feels… good.

You hate how much you notice it, how your senses seem to betray you with every passing second. The softness of her hair brushing your neck, the heat of her body radiating against your side, the faint pressure of her arm resting on you—it all feels far too natural, far too easy, like some cruel joke the universe decided to play.

You squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself to move, to shift, to put some distance between you. But your body doesn’t listen. You’re too hyper-aware of every tiny detail, of how close she is, of how safe she feels.

A shaky exhale escapes you, your chest rising just enough to disturb the delicate stillness between you. Agatha stirs slightly in her sleep, a soft sound escaping her lips as her arm tightens instinctively around you.

Your heart practically leaps into your throat.

You swallow hard, trying to convince yourself that this is normal. That there’s nothing strange or inappropriate about lying here like this. That it doesn’t mean anything. That it’s just an accident, a coincidence. That’s all.

It’s fine. Everything is fine. Except it’s not. 

Because no matter how much you want to believe that this is accidental, that she’s completely unaware, a small, traitorous part of you wonders what it would mean if she wasn’t.

You try to focus on the ceiling, on the faint creak of the house settling around you, on anything other than her. But it’s impossible. Because no matter how still you stay, no matter how hard you try to quiet your thoughts, Agatha’s presence fills every corner of the room—and every corner of you.

Your breath hitches as you finally, finally let yourself turn your head. It’s tentative at first, a small, hesitant shift of movement. 

Your chin almost brushes her forehead, and the nearness of her—so close you could count the faint freckles scattered across her skin—leaves you utterly undone. 

For a moment, you can’t think, can’t breathe. The sight of her like this, her face so close to yours, is enough to send your thoughts spiraling.

Your gaze moves carefully, tracing her features as if each one might dissolve into smoke if you looked too quickly.

Sharp and soft. The words loop in your mind like a mantra, and you can’t stop staring. The sharp lines of her jaw and cheekbones, the delicate curve of her lips—they blend danger and allure in a way that leaves you off-balance, like she was never meant to be anything less than both.

Your let your thoughts drift, unbidden, to what you know about her. And, perhaps more troubling, to what you don’t.

You’ve spent all your life in the same coven, shared the same spaces, breathed the same air, yet she’s always been distant. A figure just out of reach, admired and feared in equal measure by most.

You sift through your memories, trying to piece together fragments, to make sense of the person sprawled across you now.

Everyone has been speaking of Agatha’s power in hushed tones since you were children—the raw, unpredictable force of her magic. How it brims with potential but defies control. Even the older witches have always been wary of her, watching her like a storm poised on the horizon.

And then there’s the story. The one no one speaks of outright but that lingers in fragments, carried around by rumors and half-truths.

It was just over a couple of years ago. One of the daughters of your mother’s friends—a girl you barely knew, though her name still echoes through the village homes and halls—was found dead in the woods. Cold, lifeless. Drained.

The whispers said it was Agatha.

They claimed she had taken the girl’s power, siphoned it like a flame devouring a candlewick. That she left her there, alone in the woods, to die. 

But that girl wasn’t just anyone. She was Agatha’s best friend.

The rumors painted it as a calculated act of power, a way to send a message and solidify her place as the rightful heir to the coven’s legacy. They said her magic demanded sacrifice, and she hadn’t hesitated to give one.

But that version of the story never sat right with you.

Even more so now, with Agatha asleep beside you, her head resting on your shoulder, her breathing slow and even in sleep. The idea of this Agatha—the Agatha who clings to you in her slumber—being the monster the rumors describe feels impossible to reconcile.

You’ve always wondered if there was more to the story. If the truth had been buried beneath layers of fear, jealousy, and Evanora’s carefully orchestrated manipulations. 

Because if there’s one thing you know about Evanora Harkness, it’s that she’d burn the truth to ashes to protect her image.

The slow rise and fall of your chest brushes faintly against Agatha’s arm, jolting you back to the present. You exhale shakily, your gaze locking once again on her face.

She looks so… harmless. The thought slips into your mind unbidden, and you can’t stop yourself from clinging to it. Here, now, in your bed, tangled against you, she does look harmless. Innocent, even.

And yet… the stories remain. The danger, the sharpness, the fury—it’s still there, lurking just beneath her momentary serene exterior. 

You should move. You really should. Break the moment, pull away, regain the distance you’re supposed to have. But you don’t. You can’t. Because for all the danger and mystery that surrounds Agatha Harkness, there’s something else, too.

Something that keeps you rooted in place, your gaze drinking her in, feeling her presence in every breath you take.

The stillness is interrupted by a faint shift. Agatha stirs against you, her body shifting slightly as her fingers twitch where her hand rests near your waist. Her breathing changes, no longer the even, steady rhythm of sleep but something shallower, more conscious.

You freeze, your own breath caught in your chest. Her head lifts just a fraction before settling again, her hair brushing against your neck in a way that sends an involuntary shiver down your spine. For one agonizing moment, you wonder if she’ll pull away.

But she doesn’t.

Instead, Agatha lets out a soft exhale, her lashes fluttering as her eyes blink open, slow and heavy with sleep. There’s a beat—a single, suspended second where her gaze adjusts, flitting from the faint light of the room to you.

Her arm remains draped across your waist, though her fingers flex slightly, testing their place. Her lips twitch, just barely, into something resembling a smirk.

“Is this how you treat all your guests, or am I just special?” she murmurs, her voice husky and rough from sleep, the teasing lilt sharp enough to make your stomach flip.

The words pull you from your haze of panic into full-blown mortification, heat rising to your face as you open your mouth, then close it, scrambling for a response. 

“You—you asked me to stay!” you stammer, your voice breaking as you shift just a little, glaring at her. “Don’t twist this into—”

Agatha cuts you off with an expression so faux-innocent you want to scream, her tone light but laced with mockery. 

“Did I?” she muses, her brow quirking as though she’s genuinely pondering it. “Hmm. Doesn’t sound like me.”

Your jaw drops. 

Your heart hasn’t stopped pounding since she stirred, and her smirk only makes it worse. The audacity, the smugness. She’s so calm, like waking up tangled together is just another morning for her.

For you? It’s a waking nightmare—or at least, that’s the excuse you cling to as you try to suppress the heat that is completely taking hold of your whole body. Your fists clench at your sides, and your frustration boils over. 

“You did! You said—” you stop yourself, huffing in exasperation as her smirk turns into a full-blown grin. “Ugh, you’re impossible.”

“And you’re far too fun to annoy.” she counters shifting slightly, her arm sliding away from your waist as she props herself up on one elbow.

You bite back another retort, your face burning as you turn your head to look anywhere but at her. She’s infuriating. Smug and sharp-tongued and—close. Too close.

The silence stretches for a beat, and you take a deep breath, willing yourself to calm down. 

It doesn’t help that she’s still watching you, her gaze a quiet weight against your skin. You can feel it without looking—how her smirk lingers, how her eyes flicker between amusement and something unreadable.

She shifts again, finally breaking the silence. 

“Well,” she says softly, her voice still carrying that teasing lilt, “if this is how you handle all your guests, I can’t imagine they stay very long.”

Your breath hitches, and you glance at her despite yourself, catching the faintest flicker of something beneath her grin. She’s teasing, sure—but there’s an edge to it, a quiet discomfort she’s trying to mask.

You huff again, crossing your arms and refusing to let her get the last word. “Maybe they don’t. But you did ask me to stay, so if you have complaints, take it up with yourself.”

Her grin softens slightly, but she doesn’t respond. Instead, she leans back a little, her hand brushing against the blanket as she rests her weight on her palm. Her gaze flickers briefly to the window, her expression almost thoughtful.

You watch her for a moment, your own irritation ebbing away as curiosity takes its place. She’s still infuriating, still impossible—but there’s something else, too. Something quieter. 

You should let it go. The tension, the moment—it’s already too much and you both literally just woke up. But the question lodges itself in your throat, unspoken words buzzing like a swarm. You don’t even mean to say it. It just… slips out. “What really happened that day?”

Agatha’s head tilts slightly, her eyes cutting back to yours in a sharp, measured motion. 

“What?” she asks, her tone casual, but there’s a sudden wariness in her gaze, the edge of a blade being drawn.

You hesitate, regretting the words almost immediately, but it’s too late now. 

“The girl.” you clarify, your voice quieter than you intended. “The one they say you… killed.”

The room seems to still, the air shifting as the words settle between you. 

Agatha doesn’t move, her expression unreadable, but the flicker of something raw flashes behind her eyes—a shadow that vanishes almost as quickly as it appears.

Her lips curve into a smirk that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. 

“Really?” she drawls, leaning back slightly, the picture of feigned nonchalance. “That’s what you want to talk about? Here? Now?”

Your stomach twists at the sharpness of her tone, but you don’t look away. 

“I just…” You pause, choosing your words carefully. “I just want to know the truth.”

Agatha lets out a soft, bitter laugh, shaking her head as she looks away again. 

“The truth…” she mutters, her voice low, almost mocking. “You’re the first person to actually ask me for it, you know?”

The words hit you like a slap, leaving you momentarily speechless. 

“Wait.” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “No one’s ever—?”

“No.” Agatha cuts in sharply, her tone laced with dry amusement that barely conceals the bitterness beneath.“Why would they? They already think they know. They don’t need my version.” 

She scoffs, her lips curling into a sardonic smirk.

Your chest tightens painfully at the words, the weight of what she’s said settling over you like a heavy fog. If no one’s ever asked for her version of the story, if no one’s cared enough to hear the truth… then everything you’ve heard—the whispers, the rumors, the stories—might not be true. Or at least, not entirely.

Agatha’s gaze flickers back to you, piercing and unreadable, as if she can sense where your thoughts are heading. 

“I know what they say.” she continues, her voice quieter now, colder. “Some of it’s lies, some of it’s not.”

Your breath catches, her words hanging between you like a challenge, daring you to press further. And you do. 

“But if not all of it’s true…” you ask, your voice trembling slightly, “… then why?”

You hesitate, the question twisting in your chest before it finally escapes. “Why do you let them believe those things about you, hmm?”

That stops her cold.

Her gaze locks on you, her expression sharp and unyielding, but there’s something flickering beneath the surface—something fragile and dangerous and far too human.

For a moment, you swear you see something shatter behind the mask she wears so flawlessly. And when she finally speaks, her whispered answer tears through the silence like thunder.

“Because the truth is too awful.”

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at her. The rawness in her voice, the vulnerability she so desperately tries to hide, steals the breath from your lungs.

But you don’t back down. Not now.

“Maybe.” you say quietly, your voice softening but steady. “But I don’t think it’s worse than the lies, than the stories people tell.”

Her head tilts slightly, her eyes narrowing as she studies you. The tension in her shoulders doesn’t ease, but there’s something in her gaze—a flicker of hesitation, of consideration.

“You’re persistent.” she mutters, the edge returning to her voice, though it’s quieter now.

“And you’re exhausting.” you reply, trying to keep your tone casual despite the knot in your chest tightening with every passing second. “But since it looks like we’re stuck together—and you’re literally in my bed—you might as well tell me.”

You know the truth, though: you’re not really stuck together. Agatha could leave anytime she wanted—she’s clever, resourceful, and probably already thought of four different ways to slip out unnoticed, if she needed or wanted to.

But you also suspect that getting Agatha Harkness to open up requires more than simple patience. She needs to feel cornered—not with malice, but with intent. She has to know that someone is paying attention, that someone cares enough to ask, and that walking away won’t make the questions disappear. So you hold her gaze, refusing to let the moment slip away.

Agatha exhales sharply, the sound laced with frustration as she rubs a hand over her face. For a long, agonizing moment, you think she might retreat entirely. But then her hand falls, and she looks at you again.

And just like that, the walls begin to crack.

[arcane-ish]

This is usually the point where I whip out the

To me they just never felt that sibling coded in s1.

Ep1 and Ep2, I just don't see any sibling coding there at all? And Ep3, the episode that actually goes into defining their relationship starts literally on "old friend" as the first way to describe their relationship.

And then the first long conversation Silco and Vander have about their relationship (never forgiven myself, you had my respect etc) is literally back to back with Viktor and Jayce, them talking about the hextech dream while Vander and Silco talk about the dream of Zaun.

So to me they were always primed as friends/co-workers like Jayce and Viktor.

To me the main scene that really parallels Vi and Jinx is where Vander grabs Silco by the throat and Silco freezes up vis a vis the scene where Vi grabs Powders chin.

And the general arc about "Vi was violent towards Powder and regretted it and Powder became more violent/dark over it".

But nothing about the way Vander and Silco talk to each other rings very sibling like? It's hard to put into words, there is some pettiness there but to me it's just a very different flavor to for example how Jinx and Vi squabble with each other in the mines in season 2. It's just a very different type of intimacy in the way they reference the past that for Vi and Jinx feels like people who grew up together that to me just isn't there for Vander in Silco.

As for the writers and what they were thinking? Imo they thought of Vander and Silco as primarily two fathers. Amanda formulated it like that in season 1 already that the show is deeply about whether the daughters (Vi and Jinx) can escape the cycle of violence that their fathers were caught in.

our goal and overall theme for the series was, we were always asking ‘are these daughters going to repeat the sins of their fathers or not, and how do you stop that?’”

Source

The facts that Vander and Silco aren't the biological fathers or that Silco wasn't a father to Jinx yet when the big confrontation in 1x03 happens doesn't change that they are the fathers symbolically.

And as "they are the dads" I think the "what if the dads got back together again" is just a lot more obvious.

We know that when Fortiche asked the writers said

"they were partners"

Source

My personal theory? I think the writers didn't have strong feelings about Vander and Silco's relationship other than "they knew each other/they had a connection".

If I compare how Christian Linke talks about Viktor, I think he relates more to Viktor and Jayce and hence he has more opinions on them having a platonic connection.

But since they maybe didn't care as much about Silco and Vander, maybe the artists went to them and said "folks, the fact that Vander and Silco made up because Vander wrote Silco a letter is pretty fucking gay, can we make them gay in AU?" and the writers said "yeah, whatever".

(and again the writers likely didn't have a problem with that because they never envisioned them as brothers, just some nebulous partners/revolutionaries)

So like wtf even was zaundads.

I mean from the perspective of the writers room. Because S1 vander and silco were actually genuinely very sibling coded. In a weird uncomfortably homoerotic vibes way, yes, but a proper effort was made in the writing to parallel them strongly with vi and jinx, and they kept calling each other ‘brother’ instead of having it be one line said to a different character (cough jayvik cough).

Then s2 does the brokeback mine jackets thing and it’s like ok sure whatever. Then you get to episode 7 and. They are 1000% a couple. Like they are DADS and clearly wifing each other up HARD. And I would say maybe it’s a case of animators going rogue if it were just stuff like silco running his horny ass fingertip along vander’s bra strap or whatever:

But it’s in the writing too! Having Benzo do the chronic third wheel ‘ugh’ when silco and vander do their gay lil heart eyes toast… that felt LOUD.

Like I really just don’t know what to make of a show that sibling codes two dudes so successfully in s1 that a large chunk of the audience thought they were biological brothers, then does THAT in s2. I mean I love zaundads and I love s2e7!!! But these writers…..

I’m not sure the shippers are the ones who get confused between romantic and brotherly vibes tbh 😅

[skyloftian-nutcase]

if you haven’t talked about it before, how do you think a zora x human child would work?

I have many thoughts about this haha, get comfy!

So, first of all, a Zora pregnancy usually lasts around 3-4 months. At that point they birth an egg, which continues to gestate for another 5-6 months before a hatchling comes out. Hylian pregnancies are obviously your typical 9 month deal with a baby. So a Zora/Hylian pregnancy typically lasts an average between the two, and the nature of the birth depends on mom - if mom is a Hylian, it’s a premature baby, and if mom is a Zora, it’s a more developed than normal egg. Mipha’s pregnancy, for example, lasts six months, which worries everyone because they have no idea what’s happening.

Zora eggs when they first are laid are super malleable, making it easy for the mother to birth them. As they grow the shells harden to protect the baby, and that’s usually a marker on how much longer it might before they hatch. Zora/Hylian eggs are much larger, but thankfully mostly still malleable (RIP Mipha).

Zora typically have a guppy stage. Zora/Hylian babies bypass this, doing it while in the egg, and look like a typical Zora child when they hatch.

Now, with DNA from two different species, there’s bit of a mixing of traits and characteristics. The baby will mostly carry mom’s appearance and genes, because I can’t see them feasibly surviving the pregnancy otherwise. So a Zora/Hylian child still looks mostly Zora. But there can be quirks - Koden, Mipha and Link’s son, has a color scheme that matches both his parents—he has his mother’s light red/coral red color, but instead of the pearly white that is paired with it like most Zora, his other scale tone is his father’s skin color. He has his father’s blue eyes, and he has Hylian ears that are smaller than normal, tucked behind his also smaller-than-usual side fins. He doesn’t hear very well as a result, with his hearing not quite developed for either his Hylian ears or his Zora ones. He typically uses sign instead. He hears better underwater. He isn’t as strong a swimmer as other Zora, but he’s a stronger runner, since his body proportion matches a Hylian’s rather than a Zora’s. He has a super long tail fin. His younger sister has no prominent forehead and has a nose, as well as the little Hylian ears. She has a harder time breathing underwater and typically just holds her breath for a really long time.

Essentially, a Zora/Hylian child takes attributes from both parents, though primarily the mother’s. Mixing of the two can lead tos one deficits, like being hard of hearing, but nothing too detrimental, typically.

[huntersapprentice]

your favorite fictional character being a part of a popular meme (or several) means that you'll see them frequently :D but then that means you'll probably end up seeing some of the worst messages being attached to their image

I feel like this make no sense, but yeah

[themontess]

*cracks knuckles* Do I have thoughts on this one... The simple answer is #1 - ultimately Spite loves Rook in both a romantic and physical way. But I think it takes a while to get there. Leaving it under the jump because it's a fairly long read.

TL;DR - Companionship turns to friendship turns to romantic and enduring affection. Banging like a barn door in a hurricane starts as a breeze and takes a good long while.

Emotionally, I think Spite’s affections grow on a steady path from very early on. He recognises Rook as the person who rescued him, he listens to her, and the more she listens and respects his individuality in turn, the more he wants to talk. If nothing romantic were to develop between Lucanis and Rook, I think Spite would still be ride or die for her, platonically. Rook is my favourite! and all. When does it turn romantic, though? I'm not 100% sure. I think as Lucanis develops those feelings and Spite is exposed to them, it becomes another paradigm he can apply to his experiences and, yes, he thinks that fits. Rook becomes sweet on him over time too (probably subject matter for its own post), and together they grow towards their own definition of love.

PHYSICALLY - which I know is where a lot of people have Thoughts™️ - Spite is both more upfront and much slower in how he approaches physical intimacy with Rook. He actually kisses her first because Lucanis has thought about it a lot by then, and Rook offers it to him (hello, Feather and Scale Part 7). But even by the time Lucanis and Rook become physically intimate, Spite is only comfortable taking control to kiss and cuddle her. Although Lucanis sets ground rules for the use of his body while he is asleep (get Rook's consent, primarily), Spite doesn't take it further at that point. If he is involved in anything physical, it is "alongside" Lucanis - popping the wings, weaving his presence into the touch - not one-on-one with Rook. I think he might learn a trick or two, as their bond as a triad grows, but they're not going to Do It (Taash's terminology) until well after the events of Veilguard.

Sooo... Do we think Spite is in love with Rook too?

I'm honestly so curious about what everyone thinks about this... Seriously.

I'd really love to see what everyone thinks about this. I'm even thinking to do a second poll to reflect more on the winning option, we'll see how this one goes.

[martyrbat]

enough — batman secret files (2018) #1

(ID below cut!)

[ID: A short story titled Enough. It centers around Bruce Wayne being alone at a little cabin out in the middle of some woods on top of a snow-capped mountain. Bruce internally narrates throughout the entire story. The barren cabin is lonesome amongst the pristine, white snow as Bruce enters the cold, muted building. Inside there's several books, oil lamps, a stone fireplace, and candles on basic, open faced wooden furniture – indicating that the house has no electricity. The cabin is one story and has an open floorplan with a single upstairs bedroom, which has only a ladder leading up to the small loft. There's a chest underneath a window and Bruce sits on the old, yellow couch in front of the blazing fireplace.

He thinks to himself, ‘There're rumors that somewhere, in Gotham's most beautiful, snow-topped mountains, a monster is running around. I have a suspicion Man-Bat is behind the strange activity. Mountain climbers losing their camps, ski resorts with missing guests, a strange beast being seen in the dark... Something covered in hair, something remarkably large.’ He takes his parka off and sets down his large duffle bag to slowly unpack it — revealing a thermos and a bow with several large, pointed arrowheads. He pulls out his Batman gear — which includes an insulated suit that's lined with fur, his belt, and a protective face mask that reflects his eyes in the red-tinted visor. He forlornly admits, ‘I can handle large, but what I can't handle… Is how damn lonely it is up here. Alfred says I could use some alone time. Truth is, I'm not such a fan of myself.’

Outside in his costume and cape, Bruce is tracking through the icy woods and the thick, rising snow. He's armed with his bow and arrows as he narrates, ‘To avoid detection by what I assume is probably Man-Bat, I'll try to capture him using only my hunting skills. I admit I'm a little rusty. The arrows I've brought are lethal to some, but they're just enough to incapacitate a beast of his size. It should be enough.. I hope it's enough.’ But the snowstorm rages on, forcing Bruce back inside the cabin since he believes it's not worth the risk of freezing to death if he stays out. He now lays in the upstairs loft's bed. The oil lamps on the wooden bedstand is unlit, causing the bright snow through the window to be the only thing that casts any light in the dark room. It reveals a framed photo of a picturesque landscape hanging over Bruce's head on the wall. In it, there's a peaceful lake and tall, luxuriant green trees.

Bruce solemnly stares up at the ceiling and thinks, ‘I find myself focusing closely on all the sounds of the forest, trying to learn the rhythm.’ The snow whirls on… A branch cracks… The cabin itself creaks and groans — causing Bruce to sit upright with a jolt! He squints out the window in an futile attempt to actually see something out there. He cerebrates, ‘Three nights and only the sounds of falling snow and branches. I've tracked nothing larger than a doe, there's been no news of an attack or sighting, maybe he's left the mountains… or maybe he's just hiding.’ Bruce lays back down, this time with his back to the window. He keeps an eye open — waiting and nearly hoping for any sign of life other than his own in the desolate, icy land.

We're shown Bruce outside again as he fights against the harsh wind to get back inside the cabin after another unsuccessful search for Man-Bat. He rubs his face tiredly while hunched over a small oil lamp as the stovetop coffee brews. He reflects, ‘Six nights alone, darkness lasts longer than the day and again the storm pushes me back indoors. This is beginning to feel useless. I'm really quite over myself. Maybe I'll call Alfred and ask him to—’ But his self-deprecation is cut short by a sudden thump! Then another loud crack! Again and again, coming closer and closer to him!

Bruce sets down the coffee as his mind rapid fires the possibilities of the quickly approaching, potentially dangerous loud noises! ‘Is it the branches in the wind? Or is it something else? Am I paranoid? I can't visualize what I'm hearing. There's no time to think about the cold now, I'm all alone up here. That sounds remarkably large.’ Bruce arms himself with his bow and arrow and hesitates outside the door as his paranoia continues, ‘I hope this is enough. A hunter knows its prey, but I'm realizing I have no idea what's on the other side of this door. Does it understand I'm on the other side? I am alone out here. No time to think.’ He flings the door open!

Geared in only his suit with no gloves or headgear, Bruce aims his bow blindly as he stands outside in the merciless elements. He tensely waits in the dark, thinking to the unseen threat, ‘I don't see you, but can you see me?’ There's another loud thump and crack. With one last hope that it's enough to tranquilize the potential attacker, Bruce fires the weapon.

The sharp arrow proves itself to be lethal as it pierces his unfortunate target. The threat — merely a lonesome, defenseless deer — falls dead in front of the horrified man. Bruce rushes forth and remorsefully buries the animal with the snow. He walks back to the cabin with the repeated, dejected confession: ‘Truth is, I'm not such a fan of myself.’

END ID]

[sundial-bee-scribbles]

trying to psych myself up to finally do oc refs by doing fandom-related refs instead: volume 1

wanted to update my yuma from whatever tf this au is so he was a bit more unique... takes inspo from a lot of different things while also trying to be its own sorta thing? which is fitting given the au ;)

bonus chibi now that i'm also figuring out how tf to do chibis lol:

[microwaving-tesilid-argente]

canon divergent AU where OG! Bianca and Ailette's deathdates were later, so Cardinal Cartelyena only visits the Gilette Mansion and brings Ailette to the Vatican some time after the Day of Sacrifice, after the mess caused by the Toy Mansion is settled.

There's two ways this AU can go:

1. Ailette meets a heavily traumatised Tesilid who watched his roommate kill everyone else and then himself.

2. Ailette doesn't cross paths with Tesilid. When the 17th starts, they do not have the pre-established trust that they have in canon. Ailette is playing on ultra-hard mode, as if being in an SS-class world wasn't already hard enough. Tesilid also has no reason to pretend to be nicer than he actually feels like being, so their dynamic is also very different.

[lingeringscars]

To reiterate cjs point, I love ocs. I love building dynamics with ocs. It's so fun so rejuvenating so inspiring to see all the TALENT. I want your ocs I want them all.

[princessmyriad]

.

[waywardsalt]

writing down some notes for bellum traits/speculative biology/whatever so here's a couple so far

he's cold blooded but can't die due to extreme temperatures, it just makes it harder for him to function.

amphibious in the sense that he can survive in both water and air, though he doesn't really need to breathe, if anything he mostly interacts with water and air through traversal differences.

he does move like a squid, he can just float around but to move faster he does need to move his tentacles for slight propulsion and steering, and does intake and jet out water or air for some extra speed. he is not literally a squid creature but he is very similar.

he's got little barbs on the undersides of his tentacles (similar to the texture of a cat's tongue) which help with grabbing onto and holding things.

he can pull his main eye down into his body if he wants to use his mouth as... a mouth, or when he creates those little goop things or otherwise to spit out that purple substance.

[choslut]

˖ ࣪ ، ◞ せ⌇ BLACKOUT. featuring tartaglia.

↻ the 11th of the fatui harbingers has some... questionable kinks.

tags : asphyxiation, choking, dry humping, sparring kink, hate sex, light dirty talk, death threats, semi-public sex, light spanking, clit slapping, squirting, creampie, loss of consciousness // wc. 1k

author's note : another late one.. don't worry, the next one is all lined up n ready in my drafts !! this is most likely the freakiest one yet bc why does tartaglia have a sparring kink... also this is the heaviest one yet too so please mind sharp of the tags !! someone passes out in this one so be warned. i know you alr know the drill, notes n reblogs are ALWAYS appreciated here but can i remind u not to spam (esp w/o a follow) because that can decrease my reach and my stuff won't show up anymore :( i love you all, thank you for 400 followers and see you in the next one!

this work is NSFW. minors and ageless blogs DO NOT INTERACT.

“mmm, fuuuck, you’re a feisty one, aren’tcha, doll?”

you didn’t know what you were signing up for when you decided to spar with the 11th of the fatui harbingers. in fact, you were more forced to spar with him than of your own volition. he thought you were pretty, and he thought you would look even prettier pinned underneath him, panting and begging within an inch of your life. 

what ajax didn’t expect, however, was to be flipped on his back with you straddling atop him, hands closed tightly around his neck. he also didn’t expect that it would feel so good.

blood drips from your forehead and your lip is swollen from one to many punches to the face, but fuck you look so beautiful. “you gonna kill me or what?”

“shut up,” you grunt, squeezing harder. “shut up, shut up, shut up.”

you’re driving him damn near insane. you look angry and feral, and it’s a look that only the most determined of warriors wear during battle. 

as of right now, you’re determined to kill him, or at least make him give up. the thing is, you’ve clearly underestimated the man who calls himself the 11th fatui harbinger. 

“are you… hard?” something big and firm protrudes through his trousers, and he looks up at you, lips cracking into a smile. 

“right on the money, angel.” his hips thrust upwards once, his mind growing hazy at the buzz of adrenaline flowing through his veins. “you gonna squeeze tighter? i’m quite liking this.”

you scowl at him. “you’re disgusting, tartaglia.”

“it’s ajax, baby,” he manages to say through his lack-of-oxygen induced haze. “you gonna call me that while you’re chokin’ me out?”

god, you hate him. god, god god, you want him dead, but you can’t suppress the feeling of victory washing over you. you managed to make a harbinger hard, and all you had to do was threaten to kill him. “why would i give you that pleasure?”

“you seem to be happy enough sittin’ on my dick and trying to kill me, baby, the least you could do is call me by my real name, no?” he has no bargaining chips here, especially since you might actually kill him cold turkey. “move your hips for me.”

“you’re in no position to be making orders.”

“and you’re in a good enough position to get grinding.” when you swivel your hips in the slightest, his hands twitch, trying his hardest not to grip your ass under your skirt desperately. who even wears a skirt to a fight? “hurry it up. i’m starting to get bored.”

this guy. he’s so fucking annoying, but you can’t help but clench around nothing at the way he looks up at you, eyes hooded and lip quirked up in a smirk as he tries to move his hips to no avail, and suddenly, you’re left with two options;

option one: get the fuck off of him and run as far as humanely possible in the hopes that he won’t catch up to you. 

option two: fuck him, and fuck him. 

it’s a good thing that in situations like these, you like to think primarily with your pussy and not your head.

“ajax!”

“that’s it angel, fuck, you’re doin’ such a good job.”

your skirt is abandoned somewhere in the sparring ring and your breasts spill out of your shirt as you bounce in his lap, eyes squeezed shut and hands latched around his neck, nails digging into its supple flesh. 

oh, he’s liking this. you swear he grows two times bigger every time you squeeze on his neck, and your eyes roll into the back of your head as his tip bumps your cervix. this is the deepest position possible, and he’s hitting you just right, despite being delirious from the lack of oxygen flowing to his brain from your hands around his neck. 

when you decided to fuck him, he gave you one order and one order only; hold on tight. and damn did he give you the ride of your life, because you’re twitching atop him, hands attaching and detaching from his neck as you struggle to keep your consciousness afloat. 

whilst your hands stay wound around his bruised neck, his hands are seemingly everywhere. one moment he’s squeezing your tits through your torn shirt and the next he’s spanking your ass, warning you that he’s going to speed up and that you need to hold on tighter unless you want to fall off. 

“ ‘m close-!” you warn him of your impending orgasm, hands trembling around his neck as he starts to deepen his thrusts. you can barely focus on the look of his face, but the bastard is smiling, his own eyes starting to flutter shut as he starts to see dark spots clouding his vision. ajax is about to pass out, but he doesn’t even deserve such a luxury without feeling you cum all over his cock. 

with what little strength he has left in his arms, he slides his hand from your ass to your clit and gives it tight little slaps, eyes urging you to cum as his mouth drops open in ecstasy. this feeling, having you not only squeeze his throat but his cock too, has him delirious, and he totally thinks he could become completely addicted. 

“cum f’me, angel. come on, c’mon, i wanna fucking feel it, baby…” he uses the last of the oxygen in his lungs to give you one final command, and as ajax blacks out, he feels you squirt on it, plastering your juices all over the floor of the sparring ring before collapsing on top of him. 

in his newly (and partially short lived) vegetative state, his cock pumps you full, his seed leaking out of the creases in your cunt. it takes a couple of seconds for you to come to, and when you do, you’re faced with a sprawled out ajax on the floor, eyes just closed and lips parted gently. 

you panic momentarily because you think you’ve actually killed him, until you see those damn lips of his stretch into a smile. “thank you doll.”

you’re definitely not sparring with this freak again.

PREVIOUS : BABY MOMMA ft. k. nanami NEXT : SAY ‘AAH’ ft. wriothesley

liked that? check out the WE'RE SO BACK main masterlist.

© choslut 2024 — do not copy, repost or translate my works without permission. chain divider by @/cafekitsune

[lilaccmilk]

so....hi and I love your work, amazing btw

so i had this idea yesterday and well what about like a lioness! hybrid reader and a hare! hybrid bf, like I remember reading somewhere that lionesses try to mate with a male around 100 times a day and i was like shocked, but them i remember that hares basically the same so....

kinda matching energy hahaha

but yeah, everything else is up to you

thank you

“I am just a dumb bunny, but we are good at multiplying.”

content warning: hare! male hybrid x lioness!fem reader, mentions of heat/rut and mating season, uhh that’s it i think?

giggling at this ask as we’re speaking.

Alright so, the hare always thought that he would never find someone who matches has libido. I mean, sure he had other females of his kind, but they weren’t the same. That was until he met you�� the most sweetest person despite being a predator. You were so kind and so pretty and your skin felt so soft. The hare couldn’t help but find you in his darkest desires. He didn’t really think you’d be able to match his libido, primarily because of the fact that he knew nothing about lioness hybrids.

The start of your relationship was cute and slow. But when the mating season hit— and god it was like a switch had been flipped in you. The hare had been keeping distance from you because he thought he’d tire you out in his own rut. But staying away from your boyfriend became too much, so here you were standing in front of his apartment door, soaked from head to toe because of the rain, 11 in the night.

He quickly got concerned, leading you into his apartment, he went to get you some towels but when he came back— he was hit with the scent of your arousal, and your eyes, god your eyes got so predatory.

You stared at him like he was prey— and he was. You went to him almost ripping his clothes off, not that he minded. Your touch felt like fire on his skin, blazing the flames of his own rut. Without wasting time, you pushed him onto the couch and asked him to take off your clothes. And he obeyed, the sweet scent of his submission hitting your nose.

You had always called him ‘bunny’ to playfully tease him, but now as you growled out “fuck bunny, so pretty f’me yeah?” the nickname would never be the same.

You slowly sank down his length, he was so huge and just filling you up in all the right places. He let out a little whimper as you clenched around him. “Should’ve- hah- should’ve done this sooner.” he mumbles out already pussy drunk. You hadn’t even started and he was already looking like he was fucked dumb. You start moving your hips in a frantic rhythm because you couldn’t think about anything but him. Your mate, your bunny.

The soft plap! plap! plap! fueling your heat on and on. You both reached your climax soon him filling you up full. But no, not enough for you, not enough for you both. You felt your boyfriend flipping you both over, his body moving on pure instinct. You were under him, pinned down.

He started drilling his cock into your pussy. Pace relentless. He wanted to mate you, mark you, breed you. All you could do was let out soft moans and whimpers. His cock was hitting that spot inside of you brutally again and again. Your back arched into him, your pussy clenching deliciously around him, you came with a shudder, and he filled you up again.

You both fell into each other’s embrace, eyes half lidded. He continued kissing your neck, scenting you, his cock still inside you. “5 minutes break?” he asked and you couldn’t help but laugh, “Needy, aren’t we?” but you couldn’t be the one to talk.

[alm0ndm1lk1]

Stay Quiet

BSF! Caitlyn Kiramman x f! reader

Warning: NSFW!

Author Note: This is my first public Fic, so with that being said I did not proofread lol.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

For centuries, your family has worked for the Kiramman household. Primarily your family has served as the Kiramman guards and that is how you and Caitlyn became close since both of your families were intertwined. Cassandra and Tobias have opened their mansion to you, and you are welcome to visit. 

Today was supposed to be any other day when you come by to visit and bring her parents a gift from your travels and most importantly catch up with Caitlyn. But here you are laid out on the huge queen-sized bed mouth filled with a piece of fabric while the navy blue-haired woman's face is buried between your legs. Although the piece of cloth being your panties she discarded into your mouth in hopes of quieting you did nothing to drown out the cries of ecstasy that have been falling from your swollen lips. 

Caitlyn clicks her tongue, “It's quite a shame... I thought stuffing your mouth with your cute panties would silence you, I can still hear you.” She stops what she is doing to travel up your body where she grips your hips massaging your plush skin. “I wonder if anyone can hear the lewd noises that are coming out of that pretty mouth; oh what would they think.” She whispers in your ear. You look at Caitlyn with need- no.. desperation as you are bucking your hips into the air with tears falling down your eyes. Caitlyn dips her hand near your lips removing your damped panties that are now ruined with your saliva. “You promise you will stay quiet dove?” She asks as she caresses your lips moving her thumb to your bottom lip slowly forcing your mouth to suck on her thumb; “Y-yes I will Caitlyn I’ll stay quiet I promise.” You manage to get out with her thumb in your mouth. Caitlyn chuckles darkly looking down at you while you are slowly losing yourself in this steamy feeling. She travels back down and spreads your limbs to where she sets her pussy on top of yours slowly pressing herself to tease you as your chest starts to heave up and down quickly. 

“Oh my goddd C-Caitlyn oh fuck.” You silently cry into her sheets. “Stop messing with me- please fuck me Caitlyn please please-“ you pathetically beg her completely forgetting the rules she set for you, as Caitlyn grinds her pussy on top of your aching clit softly groaning she moves her slender fingers around your neck not squeezing too hard but in hopes of shushing you. But it was far too late, all you care about is reaching your orgasm that was slowly catching up to you. The atmosphere, your best friend on top of you using your body and moving it on her like you are her toy for her to use. You loved every second of this.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

[catcake24]

Celebrations

Summary: based on the Mecha Pilot Jazz Au by @keferon and inspired by the holiday season, primarily Christmas since that is the holiday I personally celebrate every year. JazzProwl fic, mostly fluff.

From what Jazz could tell, it had been roughly a year and a half since he had been flung into space and inadvertently made first contact. So much had happened, it was hard to believe it was so little time – but at the same time, he knew how moments could stretch out into what felt like days.

He had only been outed as an alien organic a few months ago, but he had settled into a new routine. It was hard sometimes, to get all your needs in a base designed for giant robots, but he managed. He had managed for all those months even before he was found out.

But there were still things that couldn’t be recreated out in space – like the holiday celebrations.

It wasn’t anything fancy, but everyone back home that had to be on call during the holidays would put together a little party of their own. They couldn’t get smashed or do anything too stupid, but the white elephant games and helping to a light a Menorah for the first time was good enough.

It gave him the warm fuzzies, along with the worst food coma he’s ever had after eating too much holiday food from the potluck.

But out here? He didn’t even know what kind of holidays Cybertronians had, if they even did have them. He assumed they gotta, but either weren’t celebrating, or this was one of those things that they did on a much longer calendar than a human one.

It was lonely to be the only human, even surrounded by his friends, and the lack of shared holidays just made that worse.

“What’s on your processor?” Prowl asked, jarring Jazz out of his sleepy daydreaming thoughts. He had dozed off a little, and was thinking of the lights and snow from back home.

“Oh, it’s nothing Prowler,” Jazz said with a smile, “just thinking of home.”

“Hmn,” Prowl said, contemplative expression on his metal face. It was very handsome to see, when he was trying to work through a problem in his processor.

“It’s okay,” Jazz said, giving a pat to Prowl’s large hand near him. “I’m happy to be here, I just miss some things from home.”

Prowl shifted his attention away from his work, leaning on the desk. It was hard to describe just how large Prowl was sometimes, not just in physical size but presence. He could take up an entire room without even trying, drawing all the light towards him.

He was an absolute catch, even if he happened to be an alien older than dirt that could turn into a car. Sometimes Jazz wonders when the ridiculous became mundane, or how he was so lucky be able to know Prowl.

“Tell me about it,” Prowl said, looking at Jazz with a considerable expression.

Jazz hummed lightly as he thought about where to start, and decided that the holidays were a good place to start – as it was already on his mind.

“Well… around now, it would be winter, what we call the holiday season. We have so many different celebrations around that time, but my family -er, clan, always celebrated Christmas,” Jazz then looked up, considering how to explain it.

“Christmas is a festival, celebrated near the winter solstice – when the day reaches it’s shortest. There were a few different explanations for it, but it was mostly about giving eachother gifts, getting together with family, and eating food.”

“We also would string up lights across houses and buildings, since the days were so short it would light up whole streets. My folks used to walk up and down all of our neighbours, handing out sugar cookies,” he smiled to himself, remembering how his mom would bundle him up for the Washington winters and how he loved to watch all the houses with blinking lights, reflecting off the white snow.

“There were others too of course, but I still have a soft spot for Christmas,” Jazz admitted.

Prowl was listening intently, nodding along. “I see, we did similar things in Praxus before the war.”

Jazz perked up, “Really? What was it like?”

“Well… We celebrated once every half vorn. You see, Cybertron’s orbit around the sun was tilted in such a way that our city would be completely in darkness for periods of time. We celebrated the ends of those periods with a festival, where we would hang lights on the crystal gardens and bake crystal treats,” Prowl said, him having a turn at being wistful. "We all gathered together to see the sun rise after all the darkness, and we would have a day off to bask in the first new day."

Jazz smiled, “It sounds nice.”

Prowl nodded, “It was. I’m sorry you can’t attend your Christmas Festival, it sounds important to you.”

Jazz shrugged, “It’s okay, I’m happy to spend the time with you.”

Prowl smiled then, rare and soft and genuine. It couldn’t replace what Jazz missed, but it did help a little.

[dontbesoweirdkira]

howdyyy, what do u think of plat yan! dick grayson (or platonic yan father bruce wayne up to u) with a batsis who is very disinterested with him primarily bc when she was younger she idolised him a lot but now not so much. there are comics where grayson has cheated on his partners before so imagine batsis coming to realise as she aged and matured that her doting brother is a bit of a playboy…. a lot like a playboy actually—

You know, this is actually extremely realistic. There's nothing like the rose color glasses falling off and realizing just how messed up your family truly is.

I'd like to think that there was plenty of jokes and mentions about Dick being a playboy but Batsis would just be absolutely clueless. You probably just thought it was a reference to his charming appearance or the way he gets hit on at least once whenever he goes out. Not really that he was an notorious heart breaker.

Like i don't think the other batkids had serious talks about it in front of you because of your (then) age or maybe it was a request by Dick so he could keep on his perfect mask with you?

Ironically, he wouldn't want any man to treat his little sister (or any of them) the way he does to other women but he has a problem. I will say though, it makes absolute sense that Dick or even the others would have issues keeping relationships or even have sex addictions. I mean it's a real issue that many people are struggling with right now. But can you imagine your father constantly bringing home women and cheating your entire childhood? Like Bruce introduces some of these women to them, they get attached to this potential mother then it's ripped away to be discarded for the new catch. I think that definitely warped Dick's view of women and romance stems from that. *intense mommy issues* But also i mentioned before that it's hard for him to maintain relationships while taking on the fatherly role in the family. His obsession with making sure all of his siblings are cared for and protected(mixed with being nightwing), makes it all the more difficult. Maybe that leads him to just hooking up with and being sloppy in his relationships. Maybe its just a means of stress relief and that causes him to almost dehumanize/objectify the women he "romances".

I'm not saying this is justifiable, cheating is disgusting and his behaviors are something that needs to be corrected regardless of mommy issues but for headcanon sake we are entertaining the concept

I'm not sure how you'd exactly find out about it. Maybe one of the kids let it slip and didn't bother to do damage control because you're old enough now? Maybe you spoke to one of his exes that is still friendly with the batfam? Or maybe your brain started to develop and you realized he wasn't hanging out with that new super model as just friends all night...it was something more and his girlfriend definitely didn't know about it.

Regardless, I think when you finally found out about everything, your world crushed. I don't think you'd hate him but you just feel yucky about the whole thing. Now when you look at him something in your stomach just sinks. You might even wonder if you can trust him. I mean if he's got that much of a problem to be dishonest with his lovers, then why would it be so left field to suggest he lied to you too when he said he loves you or that you were his favorite? The transition from you idolizing him to being standoff-ish would be extremely noticeable to him. I mean it's hard to ignore when you were his mini me. Even as you got older you followed him around and never skipped an opportunity to be near.

He wouldn't think that it was because of the playboy thing, maybe just you needing some space as a teen. Everyone has gone through that phase before but when he notices your shift is only directed towards him, he's a little upset about it. He doesn't understand what he did wrong? One day you guys are eating ice cream together while having a sleepover in his room to you treating him like a disease.

Eventually your big brother corners you and makes you to confess whats bothering you. He apologizes if something he said rubbed you the wrong way but you couldn't keep treating him this way.

"uhm..i dunno, dick? I found out how you've been treating you partners and i think it's kinda gross. I guess i just don't really wanna be around someone who treats women like that right now..."

I think Dick's reaction would be complete shock....who tf told you?! He has no defense but he tries to muster up one before realizing this is just making him look worse when EVERYBODY knows how much of a whore he is lol. He'd back off of you and maybe even mutter an apology before walking away to go collect himself.

He's furious as well...whoever told you will be getting an earful because they just ruined something precious to him. (yeah they did. totally not his OWN actions) If it was one of his brothers, he will be throwing hands.

Dick does very much care about others perception of him, i've said this before. He knew he had a problem and his other siblings have spoken to him about it and it affected him but never enough to change. It's just a far deeper issue than wanting a quick fuck in the expense of his partners...But seeing his baby sister look at him with just so much disgust and disappointment was enough to cause him to spiral. He's not proud of his actions and knows he's hurt and discarded of many, many women for his own satisfaction. It's deplorable. I can imagine him taking maybe a few days to himself, he's just in his head while being overtaken by heavy guilt.

I'm not sure if Dick would actually change for you though? I think he is even debating it. Yeah he's a yandere for his batsis but is his obsession with you enough to kick the other one to the curb? That's up to you. A hopeful person would say, yes he would. Anything for his babybat! He's going to do whatever it takes to prove himself again, anything to make you proud. This habit isn't worth it if hes loosing you.

My opinion? No, he won't change after his guilt wears off. He'll just pretend like he's reborn. Dick would try for like a week and then go right back to doing his habits. He's a manipulative piece of work and yeah, lying to you is bad but he wants his cake and to eat it too. He's not willing to give up anything that gives him a euphoric boost. Shh...what you don't know, won't kill you.