#this is what I get for pretending to be a normal person who has their life together

[heaven-s-black-box]

Notes- Blabber Mouth; Anemo Men

x gn!Reader

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Recovery date: February 9th, 2025

Description: Anemo version of Blabber Mouth

Notes: CW a few suprise pregnancies I put Wanderer in here, but I personally subscribe to trans-man Wanderer because why would Raiden give him a male body? Also, this series is slowly separating from the original prompt and I feel like I'm just making these kids psychic but shhh, babies

Hydro Dendro Cryo Pyro Anemo Electro Geo

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Aether

Kids , he likes them but never really thought they were in his future

I mean, he’s always traveling with his sister, it’s not until Teyvat that he kind of settles down

Abyss!Aether or Traveler!Aether, they meet you and staying here doesn’t sound too bad

Your first is an accident, they make the decision for him

Not that he wanted to leave you anyways

Your second is planned, but your first born beats you to tell him

Aether comes back from wherever he was, helping Khaenri’ah, a commission, ruling the Abyssal Khaeri’ans, and your kid tackles him in a hug

Then, without you saying anything, they talk about reading a story to the baby

And you play mock offense thinking they were reading to you and Aether is trying to figure out what baby

You send your kid off to clean up their toys so you can talk

Aether drops to his knees and hugs your waist

Xiao

It’s not that he doesn’t want kids, he just doesn’t think about it because he doesn’t want another thing he can’t have

He can’t be around people normally, being around an infant? Bad idea

So, you’d have to be anything but a mortal, someone who can be around him despite his debt

Then, he gives it some thought and he’s still really not sure

It takes many conversations for him to see your side of things

Cries the first time he holds your baby

As your first grows up, he tries to figure out how to broach the subject of having another

You laugh when he finally gets it out, face red, and quickly apologize before saying another sounds nice

Your kid is very defensive, and they try defending you from one of the dogs around Wangshuu inn one day

When you ask what’s wrong, because normally the dogs aren't a problem, your kid says they saw the dog scare a baby the other day

Takes you both a second to figure out how that correlates and then it’s a trip to Baizhu

He cries, the first time it wasn’t real to him until he held the baby but this time it’s real from the start

Venti

You guys start talking about having kids, and he’s not even sure he can have them

Like, he’s a windspirit and sure he’s in human form but how far does that extend

So your first born is a bit of a surprise

But he’s so happy, sings to them all the time while your pregnant

He drinks less too, can’t be drinking at Angel’s share when he’s trying to wrangle the little whirlwind into bed

It’s one such night when your little one runs out of their room and into yours

They curl up with you in your bed, and Venti’s trying to convince them to sleep in their bed

They declare they want to sleep with their sibling

You stop reading/pretending to sleep, confused, and Venti just gives in

They make a good point, how could he pull such a protective big sibling away from their little sibling

Venti’s been around enough to know that children can just tell these things

So he just wraps you all up in his wings and you go to Barbara in the morning

If either of your kids are boys, he’s naming him after the nameless bard

Kazuha

Kids… he wants them, he doesn’t want his family line to end with him

But, it’s not really an option when he’s on the run

Once he returns to Inazuma though, he gives it more serious thought

Spending time in the forge, he sees kids run by a lot and watches their awe as they watch him

He brings it up to you, and you have your first born

We don’t know what his friend’s name is, but your first born is getting named after him

Even if he has to alter it a little bit

He likes to write poetry with your kid, it helps their vocabulary, creativity, and fine motor skills

You two also use it to encourage their self expression

So they express their excitement about the friend in your belly

That poem is getting framed, it makes you both laugh

Heizou

Likes playing with the kids in the city and around Ritou

Hasn’t really considered kids of his own

It’s not until he sees you with the kids that he starts thinking about it

I think your first is an accident, but his excitement even surprises him a bit

Not that he thought he wouldn’t be happy/excited

And your kid takes after their father’s investigative curiosity

So you start acting off and they’re running their own investigation

This one is less of a “little kid sixth sense” and more like “mini detective”

They even get Heizou to join in the investigation

But there’s definitely a bit of weird sibling psychic-ness, your first born predicts baby's gender later on

Everyone’s excited, you first born is already planning investigations to do with them

Extra note, but Heizou definitely takes your infants on easy investigations strapped to his chest in a baby harness

Wanderer

I… don’t think he can have kids, I personally think he was not modeled with the required hardware (fully believe his original model was at least a ken doll and and at most fem)

But, between handling the electro gnosis and being around Dottore, I could see him getting the hardware and systems

I do not think he knows he has these systems, mostly because he’s never tried

So your kid is an accident

And Wanderer has a lot of thoughts but, I think he holds the baby and decides that he can do this

First baby’s name is Niwa

This kid has him wrapped around their finger, and he’s happy with one

And now that you two know he can get you pregnant you two are more careful

Your kid asks for a sibling and he’s not one to deny them if you’re okay with it

They’re also the one to tell you, one day they just press a kiss to your tummy before Wanderer puts them to bed for the night

Tighnari’s in the city, so you check in with him before he leaves

I think Wanderer surprises himself with the love he feels for his kids

[baby-blue-skyy]

Too Sweet // R. Grimes (TWD) Part 3

Third part of: Too Sweet

Hi everyone! I hope you all are enjoying this little series. I have gotten a little more familiar with the layout, so I feel like I got the hang of it now lol. Part 4 will be posted soon, I am still finishing it up! Thank you all so much for the support.

Warning: age gap, hints of abuse, alcohol use

Summary: After arriving in Alexandria, Rick is still on high alert, uncertainty about the people who live within the walls of his new, unfamiliar home. But one person has caught his attention.

•••

Deanna’s party was a cacophony of voices and clinking glasses, a press of bodies so tight that the air itself seemed thick, heavy with a mixture of sweat, alcohol, and the faint scent of freshly cut flowers that had been placed in vases throughout the house. The walls, once pristine, were now decorated with the warmth of mingling people—locals and outsiders alike, all attempting to recreate a sense of normalcy in a world that had long forgotten it.

Rick had brought Carl and Judith with him, hoping that amidst the chaos, there could be something close to normal for them. They deserved a chance to feel safe, to feel the illusion of peace, if only for a moment. Carl, ever the vigilant protector, stuck close to his father, while Judith, oblivious to the undercurrents of tension, gurgled with a soft laugh, her innocent smile lighting up the room in ways no one else could.

Rick’s eyes swept over the crowd, taking in the faces, trying to gauge their intentions, to measure them against the harshness of the world he knew. His group—his people—were scattered throughout the room, attempting to blend in, to mingle with the Alexandrians, desperate to get a feel for them, to discern who could be trusted and who might just get them killed.

But Rick’s attention kept drifting. His chest felt tight, constricted by a pressure that was not physical but internal. Carol had disappeared, slipping away from the social hum of the party with practiced ease, her movements a silent warning to Rick. She was headed to the infirmary, and as much as he trusted her, as much as he knew the importance of securing their position, a flicker of unease began to gnaw at him. His eyes darted around the room, searching for any sign of danger, any prying eyes that might have noticed her absence.

He breathed deeply, trying to calm the erratic thud of his heart. He had to focus. He couldn’t afford to lose track of his surroundings. And yet, despite the overwhelming need to remain vigilant, his mind betrayed him. It pulled him toward something else.

Her.

Rick cursed himself inwardly. Pathetic. That’s what he was. His gaze moved through the crowd with a desperation that he could not contain, his eyes scanning every face, every body, searching, hoping—hoping to catch a glimpse of her.

She wasn’t here.

His heart sank as the realization hit him like a cold gust of wind. She wasn’t in the crowd, didn’t appear in any corner or by any window. The part of him that had been drawn to her like a moth to a flame was left unfulfilled, that small hope now slipping away like water through his fingers.

But there was someone else.

Rick’s eyes narrowed. Josh. The obnoxious, overconfident man who had somehow wormed his way into their lives. The sight of him standing in the corner, nursing a bottle of beer with a look of utter detachment, made Rick’s skin crawl. The contrast was glaring. Josh was a man who always had to be the center of attention, the life of every room he entered, yet here he was, abandoned in the sea of guests, his presence somehow more pronounced in his isolation.

The thought struck Rick like a hard jab to the gut. Josh doesn’t like those kinds of things. Daisy’s voice echoed in his mind, as clear as if she were standing right next to him. And yet, here he was, standing by himself, pretending to enjoy the party in a way that seemed too deliberate, too calculated.

Something felt wrong.

Rick’s eyes lingered on Josh, watching him as he sipped his beer, his laughter forced, his words louder than they needed to be. There was something about the way he moved—something offbeat, almost like he was trying to draw attention, yet at the same time trying to seem indifferent to the whole affair. He looked like a man trying to prove something, to convince the world—and maybe himself—that he was fine, that he fit in. But Rick wasn’t fooled.

Rick’s fingers tightened around the glass he was holding. The room seemed to constrict around him, the noise, the laughter, the chatter becoming a background hum that only seemed to make the pressure in his chest worse.

Get a grip, Rick told himself, his mind shouting to regain control. She’s none of your business. The words echoed in his head like a mantra, a reminder to steer his thoughts away from the distraction that Daisy had become. But no matter how hard he tried to focus, to steady his pulse, there was an undeniable weight to the air between him and her, a tether he couldn’t cut.

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head as if to clear it. His fingers tightening around his glass—Jessie’s words falling short in his ear.

As the evening stretched into the night, the crowd slowly began to thin out. Families made their way home, ready to crawl into their beds and sleep, as the party began to lose its energy. The soft chatter and clinking glasses died down to murmurs, and the air seemed to cool with the passing of time.

Rick clutched Judith’s small, sleeping form in his arms as he and Carl made their way out of the house, heading home. The street was quieter now, the soft echo of their boots the only sound accompanying them.

Rick couldn’t help it. His eyes drifted toward her house.

It was dark. No light flickered from the windows, indicating that she, too, had gone to sleep for the night. It felt odd, somehow. Rick wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because he had been thinking about her all night, unable to shake the strange feeling she gave him.

The peaceful silence of the neighborhood was interrupted by the sudden sound of glass breaking, sharp and jarring in the stillness of the night. Rick’s gaze snapped toward the noise, landing on the figure of Josh, stumbling drunkenly down the street, a broken liquor bottle lying at his feet.

Rick sighed, a little frustrated, but more than that, exhausted.

Carl looked over at Rick, his eyes focused on the messy, intoxicated figure. “Dad…” Carl started, his voice low.

Rick hesitated, the guilt tugging at him for a moment. He didn’t want to deal with this. But he knew he had to. Not for Josh’s sake, but because the man was a danger to himself, stumbling around like this.

“Take Judith,” Rick said, shifting the sleeping child into Carl’s arms. “Let me help get him off the street.”

Carl nodded, adjusting Judith’s weight. He followed Rick’s lead, looking at the man with concern.

Rick turned back toward Josh, who was swaying like a tree in the wind. His instincts kicked in. He moved swiftly, grabbed Josh’s arm, and began steering him down the street, toward her house.

“No one talks to me, man,” Josh muttered, his words thick with alcohol. “They jus’… they jus’ avoid me. You know?” He hiccupped, his eyes unfocused. “But they all t-talk to Daisy…”

Rick’s jaw tightened at the mention of Daisy. They climbed the steps together, Josh’s feet dragging with each movement, barely able to keep himself upright. Rick knocked on the door, his knuckles tapping gently, though his mind felt anything but calm.

“They all… all like her,” Josh spat, his breath heavy with the stench of liquor. “She’s got… that… that way about her. Everyone likes Daisy. But me? Nah, they just… they jus’ ignore me… ‘less I’m with her.”

Rick’s blood boiled at the words, the resentment in Josh’s voice striking a raw nerve. He clenched his fists at his sides, trying to hold himself together as Josh continued, clearly unaware of the effect his words were having.

“Daisy…” Josh went on, his words slurring more and more as he stumbled along, “…she’s-“ his word died short, ricks word cutting through sharply.

“Enough,” Rick growled, his voice tight with restraint. “That’s enough.”

The minutes stretched out as he waited, and for some reason, Rick felt a tightness in his chest that he couldn’t explain. Why was he nervous? His jaw tightened, and he glanced at the drunken man beside him.

The silence was broken by the soft creak of stairs inside. Then, the door swung open, and there she was.

The moonlight spilled down, casting a soft, ethereal glow over Daisy’s features, highlighting the exhaustion in her eyes. She looked tired, disheveled even, but still… breathtaking. She stood there in loose joggers and an oversized sweatshirt, her hair messy and falling into her face.

Rick’s breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he couldn’t look away. Even like this, with her sleep-heavy eyes and messy appearance, she still made his heart race.

“Rick?” Her voice was tired, but there was a soft surprise in it that made his pulse quicken.

She blinked, and her gaze flickered to Josh, the anger or frustration—something unreadable—flashed in her eyes before it disappeared behind a mask of calm.

“What’s going on?”

Rick cleared his throat, struggling to keep his voice steady. “He’s had too much to drink. I’m just… I’m just getting him home.”

“Oh god,” she muttered, running a hand through her hair, her frustration evident on her tired features. “If you can bring him in, he can sleep on the couch.”

Rick nodded wordlessly, stepping into the house and helping Josh inside. The moment he did, the familiar scent of vanilla, maybe mixed with something else, wrapped around him. It was oddly comforting, and it sent a strange chill up his spine.

Rick lowered Josh onto the couch, the man barely conscious, before turning to leave. As he made his way back toward the door, he heard Daisy’s footsteps behind him.

She was close now, too close. Rick felt his muscles tense as she neared him, her proximity disorienting. He stepped out into the cool night air, feeling the weight of her presence lingering in the space between them.

Daisy gave him a soft, tired smile. “Thank you,” she said, her voice gentle, almost like a whisper.

Rick swallowed hard, the words caught in his throat. “Didn’t see you at the party,” he said, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

The moonlight highlighted the sharpness of her features, her lips, her eyes. Rick couldn’t help but notice the faint bruise on her bottom lip. His eyes lingered there for a moment too long, his fingers twitching at his sides.

Her smile had dropped slightly. “I got busy,” she breathed out, running a hand through her hair. “Time got away from me.”

Rick nodded, though he didn’t quite believe her. There was something in her voice that didn’t sit right. But he didn’t press. Instead, he found himself backing up, stepping away from her, but not quite wanting to leave.

Daisy shifted on her feet, crossing her arms over her chest, her gaze dropping to the ground before returning to him. “He doesn’t normally drink like this,” she said, her voice quiet, like she was trying to make sense of it herself. “He… he’s been under a lot of pressure lately.”

Rick barely heard her. His eyes kept drifting back to her lip. The way her words didn’t quite add up. The way she avoided his gaze when she spoke.

Before he could stop himself, the question tumbled out. “What happened to your lip?” His finger pointed toward her injury—his head tilting to the side. His words felt heavy, like he already knew the answer.

Daisy stiffened for a moment, the mask of calm cracking slightly. But then she relaxed, the tension draining from her body as she leaned against the doorframe. A soft laugh bubbled from her lips. “Toddlers,” she said with a shake of her head. “They’re rough.”

Rick’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer. She was a damn good liar. He could see that now, and something in him churned uncomfortably at the thought.

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. Instead, he just looked around the porch, feeling the cool air of the summer night wash over him as he took a deep breath.

He was prepared to leave, but there she was, standing right before him with those wide eyes.

Daisy stepped closer, her movements slow and graceful, almost as if she was aware of the tension in the air. Rick’s breath caught in his throat, shifting on his feet—meeting her gaze just as she came to a stop in front of him. Her eyes were warm, tired, but soft. The moonlight brushed against her features, and she looked nothing short of stunning. Even in that moment, so simple and raw, she managed to stir something in the pit of his belly.

Without a word, Daisy reached up, and before Rick could even process what was happening, she pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. It was innocent—nothing more than a polite thank you for his help, but Rick felt the touch like a spark, a current that traveled through his skin and down to his very core. It was brief, too quick to be anything more, but it was enough to leave him reeling, disoriented, and desperate for something that wasn’t going to come.

Rick’s pulse thudded in his chest, his body tense, his mind spinning in a blur of emotions. He didn’t know why this innocent gesture was hitting him so hard. It was just a kiss on the cheek. That was all.

But the way her lips had touched his skin—the softness of it, the warmth that lingered—made everything inside him ache in a way he hadn’t felt in years. He wanted more. He wanted to pull her close, kiss her, feel her hands in his. But he knew he couldn’t. Not like this.

Daisy stepped back, smiling softly at him. “Goodnight, Rick,” she said, her voice gentle, as if nothing at all had changed. It was casual. Simple. Sweet.

But Rick couldn’t breathe. He stood there for a moment, his hand instinctively going to his cheek, as if trying to keep her touch with him, as if it was something he could hold onto. The warmth she left behind was intoxicating, and he couldn’t shake it. He didn’t want to.

Daisy turned away, retreating back into her home with a final glance over her shoulder, leaving Rick standing in the darkness, a wreck of conflicting emotions. The night felt warmer now, the air heavier.

He stood frozen, still feeling the soft press of her lips on his skin. His heart pounded in his chest, and a dull ache settled in his chest that he couldn’t explain. It wasn’t just a kiss—it wasn’t just that.

It was her.

And for a brief, painful moment, Rick let himself imagine what it would feel like to be with her—really with her, not in the way he had with anyone else in this world.

But he wasn’t sure if it was something he could ever have, and he hated himself for even letting his thoughts drift that way. He took a shaky breath, then finally turned and walked away, unable to stop the feeling of her touch, the memory of her kiss, from following him through the night.

[twst-hottest-takes]

My Hot Take: Grim is just as dateable as Malleus. Or the other way around: Malleus is just as dateable as Grim.

They are both beasts, who are physically very different from a human or beastman, but mentally much like them. Malleus just tricks humans/beastmen into finding him attractive, because he changes into a form that looks like a human/beastman. Now, I know that is not his plan when he changes into the beastman form, he does it because it is more practical to have hands and literally fit in with the other people, but it's a side effect, lol. Grim could theoretically do that, too, with a transformation potion, also in the scenario: if he wanted to seduce someone from another species. But he doesn't.

Some people see Grim like a child, because he is so short and acts a bit immature. But we don't know at what age/life stage Grim actually is. It has been stated at some point, that Malleus is still far away from being an adult by the normal development stages of his species, but his beastman form looks like a young adult. He may be a mentally far advanced/quicker matured prodigy, but if his beastman form reflected his age, he would appear much younger (understandable that he doesn't, because it would be awkward at NRC). So if you think that Grim is taboo, because he might still be a child, then you can apply the same to Malleus.

(Sorry, if I got something wrong, I don't know the lore that well yet.)

Okay, but, Anon, why in the ways of this wide and wonderous world would you even suggest that?

I have to push back hard against the concept of dating Grim, so if you don't want to read my rude responses to that thought just skip the rest of this post. (I promise it's not personal, Anon.)

He's an awful, selfish, trouble-making, trash-munching, feral, piece of ♤♡◇♧. Whatever degree of thought it would take to consider it "Okay" to date Grim is ignoring that he'd be a miserable boyfriend, and I judge anyone for suggesting otherwise.

Now, with THAT out of the way: Sure. You're right.

First off, Grim is totally going to have a humanoid form at the end of the game (tropes and all that), so yeah, the fact that he's currently a cat monster won't matter anymore once it happens. If he's a direbeast then he was likely a human who overblotted at some point in any case. I still argue against trying to date him in cat form regardless because that's getting into, "It's okay to ♤♡◇♧ Scooby Doo," territory and NO I am NOT going to pretend that I'll be nice about that garbage.

Secondly, most people argue against the idea of dating Malleus because he's too OLD so someone going in the opposite direction is just crazy to see. Malleus is not a child. Being "young for a fae" or "not fully matured yet" doesn't mean he's the fae equivalent to a minor. Older teens and young adults can still be considered immature so I will fight back on the front that his comparative age (treating him as younger) would make it inappropriate to date him.

Since I've already said that Grim is basically datable as long as he has a human form, my own arguments about Malleus being a dragon would be pointless. The same rule applies.

Conclusion: The blog owner thinks that Grim becomes "datable" the minute he has a humanoid form (ideally one that doesn't look like a child), but doesn't recommend it because the character sucks. Malleus on the other hand is passably datable already, dragon be darned. The fantasy age argument can happen somewhere else.

Thank you for your take.

(This was legitimately a hot one. Nice job.)

[supercorpkid]

I Should Hate You

Supergirl. Baby Danvers Reader. Kara Danvers. Alex Danvers. Lena Luthor. Lex Luthor.

Word Count: 3260.

Notes: heavy on angst and PTSD trauma. Ending coming soon.

Being Alex and Kara’s little sister was never a bad thing. If anything, it made life easier. You had two built-in protectors, two people who made the world feel safer just by existing. No one would bother you at school, and your mom never had to worry about you.

That is, until Lex Luthor came into the picture.

Because now, he knows. He knows. Not just who Kara is, secret identity and all. But also what she cares about, who she loves, the lines she would cross to protect the ones important to her.

And now, you do too—more intimately than you ever wanted to.

Lex didn’t just figure out Supergirl’s identity; he figured out yours. He knows your face, your name, the exact pitch of your voice when you’re begging not to die. He knows how easy it is to take you, how powerless you are against men like him. And worst of all, he knows something you can’t unlearn either—just how breakable you are, how easy it is to snap your psyche like a twig.

And that’s the difference, isn’t it? Alex has her training, her weapons, and alien tech to help. Kara has more than a dozen powers to choose from. And you? You have nothing. No armor, no defenses, nothing to stop someone like him from reaching out and plucking you off the street whenever he wants. And now that he’s done it once, what’s stopping him from doing it again?

Nothing.

And that terrifies you.

Kara keeps saying you were never really in danger. That she never would have let him hurt you. That she had it under control. But control means nothing when you remember the way the cold air clung to your skin in that cell, how every second stretched into eternity as you waited, helpless, for whatever came next. It doesn’t erase the way your body locked up when you heard footsteps approaching, the way your breath came too fast, too shallow, because you knew—you knew—you were just a means to an end. Not a person. Just a way to get to her.

And now? Now the nightmares won’t stop.

You dream of steel cuffs biting into your wrists, of walls pressing in too tight, of guns’ barrels freezing up the back of your neck, of Lex’s voice curling around your name like he owns it. And it’s not just when you sleep. Sometimes you’re in the middle of a conversation, or walking down the street, or trying to be normal again—only for your brain to snap back, to drag you under, to make you feel like you’re still there.

But the worst part isn’t the fear. It isn’t even the exhaustion of pretending you’re fine.

It’s the anger.

It sits heavy in your chest, impossible to shake. Because if Kara weren’t Supergirl, none of this would have happened. If she were just your sister—just Kara—Lex would have no reason to know your name. No reason to take you. No reason to remind you just how small you are.

Of course, you’d never say that out loud. How do you tell Supergirl that you wish, just for a second, she wasn’t the mighty powerful being she has no choice but to be?

And then there’s Lena.

You know it’s not fair. You know it. She’s not her brother. She’s not responsible for what he’s done, for what he knows, for the way your hands still tremble when you reach for a glass of water. She didn’t take you. She didn’t look you in the eye and smirk like you were already broken.

But she still has his name.

And maybe that shouldn’t matter, but right now, it does. Because every time you see her, every time she so much as says your name in that soft, careful way she does, it’s his voice you hear in the back of your mind. It’s his face you remember. It’s the shadow of him curling around her, reminding you that if you were just a little more like Alex, a little more like Kara, if you weren’t so easy to take, maybe this wouldn’t have happened at all.

And so, you flinch at the sight of her. Not obviously, but enough that she notices; that her brow furrows just slightly when you pull your hand back too quickly, when you shift a little farther away. And she doesn’t say anything, of course. She just watches.

And that might be the worst part. Because you can feel the questions in her silence, the ‘I didn’t do anything’ just barely biting back at her tongue. And she’s right. She didn’t. But her last name did.

And right now, you are having a really hard time separating the two.

It starts small. You tell yourself it’s just one more day of staying home. Just one more day where you don’t have to face the world, where you don’t have to pretend that everything’s normal. But after a while, ‘just one more day’ turns into a week. Then two.

The hardest part is how everything starts to feel too much. The thought of walking out that door, of seeing people, of hearing sirens in the distance or feeling the weight of a stranger’s gaze—it’s all so loud, so sharp, it’s like the world has become a minefield. One wrong step and it’ll all come crashing down again.

You quit work. You stop answering texts. You skip class, then tell yourself you’ll catch up later, but you never do. You become a shadow, existing only within the walls of your apartment, where it feels safe, even if it’s not.

It’s strange. You’ve always been independent, always handled things on your own, but this? This is different. This is too much.

You don’t even realize how bad it’s gotten until you hear your own voice on the phone with Eliza. You’ve called her every day for the past two weeks, something you’ve never done before. Which triggers her 'mom intuition’ for sure. She keeps asking if you need anything, if you’re okay. And you lie every time. But she knows you too well. She can hear it in your voice, feel the cracks forming beneath the surface. Your mom knows you're just the ghost of her daughter.

The silence in the apartment is thick, suffocating, and you’ve been letting it surround you for days. The TV hums softly, but you’re not really watching—your mind is too far gone, trapped in its own spiraling thoughts.

Then, the door creaks.

The sound slices through the quiet, jarring and sharp like a knife. You stiffen, your heart leaping into your throat, and before you can even register who it is, you spring to your feet. It’s a knee-jerk reaction—instinct, the kind you don’t even question. Your breath catches in your chest, and for a split second, you're frozen. Every nerve on edge, every muscle tense, as if the world is suddenly closing in.

When you finally focus, your eyes meet Alex’s. She’s standing there, the same steady presence you’ve always known, face full of concern.

“Whoa, hey, hey—” Alex starts, but you can’t stop the tremor in your hands, the pulse hammering in your chest like it’s trying to tear you apart.

You’re already backing away, your mind screaming at you to put as much distance as possible between yourself and the door. You barely register her words as they blur together, and all you can think about is getting away from the noise, the danger.

“Y/N, it’s just me. Alex.” She raises her hands up, defensively. "Just your big sister, checking in on you.” Her voice cuts through the spiral, sharp and grounding. 

You drag in a few shallow breaths, struggling to steady your mind, telling yourself that it’s okay, you're safe for now.

“Shit, Alex! Just knock next time. I don’t fucking have x-ray vision.”

Alex's brow furrows at your choice of words. She scans your messy apartment quickly, but it’s you she turns back to, her gaze sharp and focused on your face.

“You okay? You look like you haven’t slept or left the house in days.”

Sleeping isn’t the problem. In fact, you’ve been falling asleep easily enough. It’s staying asleep that’s the issue, with nightmares clawing at you every time you drift too far into sleep.

“I’m fine,” you say, a little too quickly. You know she’s overanalyzing every little movement, every tiny shift, so you need this conversation to be over fast. “Why are you here?”

Alex tosses her keys onto the kitchen table, then takes a cautious step forward. “You’ve stopped answering everyone’s texts, and you’ve been calling mom every day.”

“Oh, so I can’t call my own mother now?”

“You can…” she says softly, but there’s a quiet concern in her voice. “But you usually don’t do that every single day. She’s a little worried.”

“Gotcha. I’ll only call her every other month,” you exhale, annoyed, as you move back toward the couch. Alex lets out a frustrated sigh and follows, stepping closer.

“I thought I’d find you at work, but your boss said you quit.”

“Sorry if I don’t want to work in a coffee shop forever. I’ve got savings. I’ll find a better job in time.”

Alex doesn’t respond right away, but you can feel her eyes on you—heavy, searching. Doing what she does best, investigating. She takes another step closer. 

“Y/N, this isn’t about work or mom,” Alex says after a beat. There’s a hint of frustration in her tone, but it’s not aimed at you. It’s at the situation. “You just went through something traumatic, and now you’re hiding away in your corner of the world. Do you honestly think we’re all that stupid, that we don’t see what’s going on?”

You’re pretty sure she doesn’t understand. She doesn’t know what it’s like to be completely helpless and hopeless, at the mercy of someone like Lex. Doesn’t know the rage you feel at your own sister for allowing it to happen. Doesn’t have the faintest idea of how every bit of your once-best-friend now reminds you of the worst thing that ever happened to you.

“God, I hate when you do that. I hate when you walk in here all high and mighty.” You roll your eyes, every word coming out so bitter it makes yourself flinch. “You can either believe me when I say I’m fine, or don’t. I don’t care. But don’t just barge in here like you know better than me what I’m feeling, okay?”

Alex’s face tightens, but she doesn’t back off—she never does. Her eyes flicker between you and the apartment, as if she’s trying to read something deeper, something unsaid.

“Peaches,” She starts again, her voice quieter, and the use of the nickname shows just how well she knows how to handle you, to break through the walls you've put up. “I don’t mean to treat you like a kid, but this isn’t you. This… this isn’t how you’ve ever been. And I’m worried, okay?” Her voice wavers slightly, and though the frustration is still there, it’s now mixed with something softer, something that aches. “We all are.”

But you? You’re just getting more frustrated by the second. “Okay, fine. What can I do to make this conversation end and get you to leave me alone?”

Alex considers for a moment, just long enough to make you antsy, before she says, her voice surprisingly calm:

“Movie night.”

“Movie night?” You repeat, incredulous. You can’t help it—you feel a little ridiculous, but if going to a movie night is what it takes to get Alex off your back, you’ll do it. “That’s it? That’s the deal?”

You make sure, because nothing with your sisters is ever as simple as it seems. And this feels oddly easy.

“Yep. Come to movie night tomorrow, and I’ll see how ‘fine’ you are. Then you’re off the hook. I’ll even call mom and tell her not to worry about you…”

“And you’ll leave me alone too?”

“100%.”

“Okay, then. Deal.” You exhale, giving in with a resigned sigh. “See you tomorrow at movie night.”

You can’t believe you agreed to this. Sure, at the time it sounded like the only possible solution. You had to get Alex out of your apartment before she started sniffing the old pizza slices and your fears. She's too good at both. But now, as you stand in front of Kara's door, you can’t believe this is actually happening. You’re about to show up here and pretend that everything is fine for at least the duration of a whole movie. How on Earth are you going to pull this off?

The soft thrum of your pulse beats in your ears, drowning out the world for a moment. You stare at the door, heart twisting in that familiar, anxious knot. If you just turn around now, slip away into the night, you could avoid all of this. Avoid them. 

If you could just… 

The door creaks open, Kara is standing there in her usual flannel and sweatpants, looking as if she just stepped out of a pile of laundry. Her smile is wide, brimming with that annoyingly kind energy—the kind that could melt the hardest of hearts. And that’s exactly what makes this so damn complicated.

“You made it!” she says, her voice ringing as if everything is fine and normal and not at all like you’re about to implode just by standing here in front of her.

You cross your arms over your chest, already feeling a little defensive. “Yeah, well, I’m here, aren’t I?” You try to sound nonchalant, but your voice cracks at the end, betraying the nervousness roiling beneath the surface.

Alex steps into view behind Kara, arms crossed, like she’s been watching you since the second you knocked. She raises a brow, her gaze narrowing slightly, scanning you for any cracks. And, of course, she’s the first to speak up, because she always has to poke the damn bear.

“You good?” she asks, her tone a little too honest. Too knowing.

You force a tight smile. “Fabulous.”

Kara nods, stepping aside to let you in, that ever-present sweetness in her eyes, too soft for you to handle at the moment. There’s something about the way Kara moves—so gentle and eager—reaching out for the simplest of hugs, that makes you hurry inside to avoid her touch.

As you look around, Lena’s there, curled up on the couch, her presence like a quiet storm you didn't see coming. Her hair falls loosely around her face, and her expression is so open, so raw—a clear vision of innocence. So tender it nearly hurts. And, for a moment, you forget about the weight of the world. You almost forget who she is. Almost.

She is a Luthor. Her brother probably has eyes on her at all times. He's probably watching right now, already plotting how to take you all down in one strike. Hell, every second near Supergirl and Lena Luthor is another second closer to a cell, to having a gun pointed to your head.

"I thought we'd go with something light, so I picked a comedy. What do you think?" Kara says, grinning like she’s been waiting all day for this. And knowing your sister, she probably was.

You nod, trying to fight back the sense of danger creeping in. Everything is fine. You just have to pretend. Pretend that nothing matters but this movie. Pretend that Lena isn't sitting across from you, that Supergirl isn't here in her pajamas offering you a big bowl of popcorn.

You take a seat on the far side of the couch, keeping a careful distance from Lena, as if the space will somehow protect you from whatever may happen if her brother shows up. She doesn’t say anything, just watches you from thick eyelashes and green-eyed gaze, and it takes everything you have not to crumble under it.

Kara is already settling in, practically buzzing next to you. Her hands moving to adjust the throw pillows like this is the most normal, casual thing in the world. 

“I’m so glad you could make it! I missed you so much these past few weeks, Peaches.” Kara says, her voice soft and warm, like she’s trying to make this feel safe. Like she doesn’t notice the way you’re pulling inward, trying not to let your breath shake.

You force a smile, something that doesn’t reach your eyes. “Yeah, well, I did make a promise.”

The movie starts, but you can’t concentrate. You should be watching, should be laughing like Kara and Alex are, but every sound seems too loud, too sharp. Your pulse drums in your ears, and the quiet ticking of the clock on the wall is like a countdown. 104 minutes of this. Come on, you can do it.

But then—then the first gunshot in the movie rings out.

It’s too real. Too close to home.

Your chest seizes, and for a split second, everything blurs. The room disappears, the movie fades, and you’re back in that cold, dark place. The silence presses in around you, thick, suffocating. The same kind of silence that used to follow every threat. Every decision he made. The sound of your own breath in that small, damp space, the taste of metal on your tongue.

Your hand tightens on the edge of the couch, nails digging into the fabric, the tension pulling you taut. Your breath comes in short bursts, like it’s too much to take in. The sound of the movie becomes a distant echo, muted, fading out as the walls of that cell close in on you.

You don’t hear Kara's voice calling your name. You don’t see Alex’s concerned expression. All you hear is your pulse ringing in your ears; all you see is the shadow of Lex, looming over you, wrapping around you.

And then you feel it—a soft hand, barely brushing your arm, and it shouldn’t feel like this, not like fear. But it does. So you jerk back, hard, your breath catching after a shriek leaves your mouth unbidden. It’s an instinct. A reflex. A warning.

The room goes completely still.

All eyes are on you.

Kara’s face is filled with panic, her lips parted like she’s about to say something but doesn’t know what. Alex’s jaw tightens, her eyes scanning you like she’s trying to figure out how to make it better. But it’s Lena—Lena who doesn’t move. Lena who just watches, her hand still hovering in the air like it’s caught between reaching for you again or pulling back.

You can’t breathe. Your chest is tight, too tight, like the walls are closing in again. And Lena’s eyes—those quiet, searching eyes—are burning into you, and you can’t look at her. Not now. Not with everything you’re carrying.

“Are you okay?” Kara’s voice is soft now, gentle, like she’s scared of shattering something fragile.

You don’t trust anything, anyone. You don’t even trust your own voice at the moment. 

“I just... need some air,” you manage, barely louder than a whisper.

You don’t look at any of them as you stand, pushing the blanket off your lap and stumbling toward the door. You need to get out. You need to breathe. You've been holding your breath ever since you walked in this room.

You need to go. Where? Anywhere! Home! No—Midvale! Farther! Just go. Keep going. Somewhere Lex can’t find you. Your sisters won’t find you. No one. No one shall find you.

[sugarwarachan]

pairing: shigaraki x afab!reader

based on this prompt list: ²⁾ “you’re telling me you really have nowhere better to be than here today?”

cws: FLUFF THIS IS SO FLUFFY WHO AM I, shigaraki is a pining mess, no quirks au, I know nothing about actual corporate offices except that I hate them lol

wc: 600 (a wee babe)

Shigaraki Tomura is not doing well.

For starters, he’s staring down the barrel at a year-long, cry-into-your-pillow-every-night kind of crush, and the object of his affection is literally standing outside of his house in the rain, asking to come in.

On Valentine’s Day.

He’s pretty sure his brain is visibly leaking out of his ears.

“Tomu, are you all right?”

You’d think after months of working in an office together, he’d have a handle on being normal around you, but apparently that’s not the case today. The nickname makes his heart hammer so loudly he can barely hear himself answer.

“You’re telling me you have nowhere better to be today than here?”

Thunder claps overhead. Rain starts pouring down in earnest, pounding the pavement behind you. He ushers you into the entryway, trying to keep his cool when you steady yourself on his forearm to toe off your shoes. Your shirt clings to the curve of your waist in a way he does not trust himself to look at too closely.

“What’s that supposed to mean? I like hanging out with you.”

You can’t be serious. It's you. The last person in the world he expected to be alone on today.

"You know what day it is."

You level him a look. "I do, actually. I have this thing called a calendar. I think you also have one installed on your phone?"

"Ha ha, marketing monkey."

You poke your tongue out at him. "Whatever, creepy IT guy."

He’s happy to sink into this routine, actually. It’s familiar. Touya calls it flirting; Tomura tries not to call it anything.

"I did get you something, though," you say. "For Valentine’s Day."

You hand him a simple red box tied off with a silver bow.

"Don’t laugh too hard at it, okay? I tried."

You’re never uncertain. He noticed that about you right away, assumed you’d be standoffish and rude because of it just like all of his other coworkers.

But you hadn’t been. You’d been kind in the way that made his teeth hurt.

He opens the box slowly, almost reverently. Inside are small, homemade chocolates, all molded in a somewhat clumsy likeness of his dog Mon.

Fuck.

He stares into the box, dumbfounded.

Sure, you play League with him on the weekends, and yes, he’s gone over the days you have coffee with him so many times they're seared into his brain, but that doesn’t mean you like him.

Except—

This is a lovely, hand-crafted gift that makes him feel so wanted he could actually drown in the feeling. It has to mean something. Right?

“Tomu?”

He snaps himself out of it.

"This is, umm." Shit, he actually has no idea what to say. He looks at you, which is a bad idea, because now all he can think about is how fucking pretty you look in his house, next to his things, bending down to greet Mon as he flies from downstairs to greet you.

"That bad, huh?" You pretend to joke, ruffling Mon's ears.

"No!" he all but shouts, wincing mentally before crouching down beside you. Mon rolls over to show off his belly.

"It's the best gift I've ever gotten," he tells you. "No one's ever made me something like this."

And because no one has ever made him something like this, Tomura takes a chance.

"Do you want to stay? You can run a bath while I grab some food and we can make a day of it?"

You grab his hand and thread your fingers through his, beaming.

"I'd love nothing more."

[ceramicbeetle]

actually it's kind of funny how people will say Alex's fatal flaw is that he 'doesn't ask for help' and that it's his determination to handle things on his own that leads to his deterioration and eventual death when his whole introduction to the present-day timeline was a very literal cry for help that simply went ignored

[dishesoap]

does anyone have recommendations for fictional media that has like. actual lesbians in it. not like supergirl Two White Skinny Girls, One Blonde and One Brunette Kiss media, or "its implied lesbianism!!!" but just regular fucking lesbians

[worstloki]

prize for least genre aware protagonist 👑

[phoenixcatch7]

If there's one thing I like more than time travel it's crossover reincarnation, so.

Botk link reincarnated as Damian Wayne.

An incredible weapon master of all types, but especially prodigious with a sword - he was beating knights at the age of 4 and with his memories as intact as they get for him I can see that goalpost moving even further (probably with traps and tricks, a 3yo doesn't exactly have great bodily control).

He's an excellent survivalist, agile, strong, durable, cunning and creative. He can move like a feather in the breeze, strike from behind with ease. His first kill, an animal, did not stir him as it did the other children. With his poise, grace, skills, obedience, he ought to be ra'as' finest assassin in the making, a jewel in the crown of the league.

Except he never speaks a word. Half his targets escape unscathed. He skates by true punishment on the merit of his skills and achievements in other missions. Testing has shown it is not a physical deformity that prevents his speech, but not even talia has been able to coaxe a word from him past his second birthday.

It is a defect ra'as is growing more and more frustrated by, as each attempt to fix these two final flaws ends in resounding failure. Less extreme solutions are running dry.

Talia fears those solutions. Her child does too, she knows. For them, there is a possible solution, more extreme than anything ra'as would tolerate.

She sends him out of the league. To his father.

To Gotham.

[hplonesomeart]

I’ve plummeted deep into the brainrot and no soul can even fathom being able to pull me out of it don’t even try because it’s a lost cause :))

Enjoy the silly spur of the moment cover I did while seated in the car Thursday (the 8th if I remember dates correctly). Was on the fence about posting it anywhere but hell why not. I tried to make one with cleaner audio quality but hated how my voice inflections sounded so this is the best version we’ve got a hold of currently!

[katierosefun]

step 1 of watching suits: haha fun plot! look at this little guy pretending to be a law school graduate. yeah this won't have any consequences whatsoever

step 2 of watching suits: oh this little guy and that bigshot lawyer have some good chemistry. yeah they're both committing a crime by having him work at this new york big law firm but it's fun :)

step 3 of watching suits: they're actually facing consequences to their actions now, but oh god i don't want to see either of them lose. yes, they did something terrible but don't we all want to feel a bit special. don't we all feel stuck. doesn't our own ambition swallow us whole. don't we feel insanely loyal to the person who gave us everything. we're going down together. if you go, i go.

[istherewifiinhell]

First reprimand for shitty customer service <3. Well first one that wasnt just just my boss laughing and saying a local famous person accused me of stealing their wallet [left it on a shelf].

[whisperingphantasm]

Just found out I somehow accidentally added “Dirty Night Clowns” by Chris Garneau to my That Girl workout playlist. Some unsuspecting fitness girlie is going to be CONFUSED.

[prehistoric-rat]

in finland our biggest pride event canceled their partnership with our biggest political party because the party hadn't voted in agreement about our new trans law (to allow self-ID and remove requirement of being sterile (yeah really)) (the party had ruled it a “matter of conscience” and abt 1/3 voted against), and now our news are full of the members of that party being pissed abt it and our likely next prime minister commenting how this is “sad and offends many people”, and ppl are flocking to lament and mock how pride is so intolerable and how u have to have 100% correct opinions in order to participate and i'm

[boyapologist]

sweetheart please love me too long my heart’s too strong love me too long sweetheart please let me hold on to these old songs I’ve loved too long

[crossbackpoke-check]

do u ever speak too soon & immediately regret it.