#why wouldn't it can you Imagine what is in that thing

[twilightkitkat]

I feel like Logan is oftentimes written as a character who wants a large amount of distance and space in a relationship but I think that wouldn't really be the case. Obviously he can't be around anyone every waking hour of the day and he's his own person, but I'm convinced he'd be clingy once he got into a relationship. He knows to function on his own, he knows he can go through the motions but he just... doesn't want to.

One of the main arguments I see for him wanting a lot of space is that he has an eternity to live so he doesn't feel constrained on time when it comes to Wade, who's also immortal like him. And yes, that's true, but I raise you this: he's already had 200 years without him. He's had time to do all the things he wanted to (and didn't want to) do alone—he's traveled to different countries, explored his own origins and backstory, learned about different people and places. And sometimes he enjoyed it, even if most of the time he was desperate and angry and isolated from the world.

He already spent enough time being alone that he knows how it feels. He got it out of his system. He was forced to be alone for so long that he almost forgot what it was like to have a companion, let alone someone like Wade. Someone he genuinely connected to for the first time, who understood him and wanted him.

Logan knows what it's like to be alone. He lived through it almost every day of his hellish life in one way or another. He's tired of it, now. He had 200 fucking years to stew in his own company, 3 times longer than most humans even lived.

But this? The feeling of curling next to someone and feeling their warmth? Burrowing so close you can hear their heartbeat? Waking up next to Wade and seeing his bleary-eyed smile? Fighting next to him, trusting someone to watch his back? Waking up from a nightmare and being held and comforted by someone who understands him?

It's so much better than anything he could've imagined. Why would he ever go back to how things were before, when he knows what it feels like to be next to Wade and be loved just for existing? (How could he go back to being alone after finally tasting happiness?)

He'd want to savor it. To lean into the relationship hard and memorize all of Wade's little habits and routine and quirks. He'd be clingy, letting himself demand affection and attention because he knows he can get it. And he's been starved of it for so long.

He knows he could leave, if he wanted to. That he could go out on his own for a while, back out into the cold. But why would he voluntarily do that when he has a perfectly nice fireplace to keep himself warm? If he really wanted to go out to marvel at the snow, now he could bring someone with him and share that joy together. What could be better?

[thumperdaetime]

the music is punk because it challenges the norm. the clothing is punk because it challenges the norm. the politics are punk because they challenge the norm. it's not a sound, or a look, or a book, or a slogan. it's a way of thinking that puts radical acceptance and relentless pursuit of joy, face to face with a world that wants you dead. you can't put a price on it. the disabled woman that says "fuck it people know I can't hold my blatter anyway. I don't care if they can tell I'm wearing the rehab-provided brief. Get me my bright lipstick I'm going to bingo!" is flexing the same muscles as the suburban white boy who steals eyeliner from his conservative mother. they are both people using identity, to create joy and signal comradery in lonely times, reputation be damned.

not to mention, all of the clothes I have been able to afford new when I was in my poorest moments were shit quality anyway. anything you can do to extend the lifespan of a physical object that was made under the modern fast fashion system past "thrown out, unsold at the store" is a win. in the same way that any pressure you can keep against an actively bleeding wound is a win. cloths are a common class of tools we use to help regulate our comfort, with that is with the temperature or our cave-mates. if the clothes make you feel uncomfortable they are already useless. it is already trash. why not try anything to see if it works? there are intelligent capable people across the centuries who died dreaming of what to do with once gorgeous expensive trendy fabric, that will now look dated and trashy outside of "the spring of '32 when i fell in love with jazz." or whatever the kids are into these days. the stupid walmart blazer you took a chance on 2 years ago but now feel "too X to wear" is no different. either you trash it now, or live with that trash in your home until your kids do it for you, while crying about how they always thought you looked good in that color. you might as well see if there's enough fabric to re-make that halter top you loved in college. when it looks homemade you get to boast and explain all about how you're trying to make shit better in little ways. and who cares if it fails? Aren't you deserving of a little petty violence? when the last time you really didn't give a shit about seam Ripping and just went to town? don't you want to be able to yell at something with no moral consequences? so much in this world is complicated and nuanced and requires forethought and responsibility. Wouldn't it feel nice to have a hobby that lets you get reasonably angry at evil fabric for not doing the thing, and then you can just throw it and swear, and then never have to think about it again. because it doesn't matter. it was already cheep plastic made to feed a system that would rather watch the world burn than lose a shareholder. you eat credit cards a year. you can not hurt wasted disposable plastic more than it will hurt you.

and then if it works you have a cute top to wear around places to show you are the kind of person who has cool tops! and help you ease people into the idea that a political movements starts with people deciding what things they inherited they actually want to keep around. and then maybe one day you cut apart and re-make out of nice quality fabric, with the mistakes you learned from the first one. so you can weaponize your ability to present yourself as ""respectable"" when you have to play the politics game in big official ways.

or (imagine this) you can even use your new knowledge of what types of edits you often make to clothing to buy a quality garment that will be more worth investing in. Ones that are made in ways that add value to their communities will feel good on your body from day one, and you can be mened and adapt in ways that may let it outlive you.

or maybe you elevate that shity, guilt ridden- shirt out of the gym lost and found on the last day of freshman year, because "fuck it- I liked that middle-school library fit. and Its a size too small but I'm bound to get thinner eventually. and I don't think its actually stealing if no one else wants it." Maybe if you make it into a statement piece scrap in your favorite "look I'm not happy about it either!" outfit, to show that you want to fuck with the systems in a "hey we should still have A Library tho right?" sort of way. you might run into the middle school girl who gets to break the ice with a fellow "cool garment person" friend. and she gets to laugh about your shirt deadnaming her. and you get to apologize and offer to let her sign something over it. and now you are advertising the formative art of a local queer-punk-artisan who you know is also out there trying her best to make the shitty stuff a little less shitty when they can, even if it means learning how to thread a sewing machine.... eventually.... hopefully.

also, as a person who has spent about a decade trying to figure out ways to keep kids of all ages informed and prepared and enriched on a budget. "Tug of War turned tie-dye Party" would of been a smash hit, my queer and rural in the 90's type parents would have loved it. after growing up with Halloweens filled with pieced-together costumes that made room for sensory issues and accessibility aids. and family "vacations" taken on public land with what's left of the food stamps. i think there is definitely a market for how to teach your children the fundamentals of serving in a world that might find their misery profitable. without like... terrafing them.

imagine how much easier alot of it would have been if someone early in your life had sat you down and said "ok. a lot of times things are going to be bad and unfair and evil. and there's going to be complicated reasons you cant do much about it but feel bad. but if you feel bad all the time it will only get worse. so what you can do is take what is around you, figure out what it is and how it works and why it's there, and then break it in ways that are meaningful and delibrite. and re-shape it to help the actual people who are trying survive."

then they showed you and all of your little friends how to research, what fabric is and understand why you bought supplies, and then get their hands dirty testing how strong it is, and why jeans have rivets even when you want to sew right there. and re-asure them that it's ok you paved the way to make sure they can't hurt anything too bad even if they are really really bad at it. and then let them find joy and pride in making something unique and custom with their own tools for the cost of cleaning out a closet, and some rite dye.

and then the community has a couple new little baby punks making decent folks smile with little bold fashion statements, and turning heads when they experiment with which parts of society they want to bring into the new age. tl;dr: I think we need to start telling the “I’m too poor to dress punk” crowd that they’re posers. -polyamorouspunk, November 2024, tumbr.com

I think we need to start telling the “I’m too poor to dress punk” crowd that they’re posers.

[yan-randomfandom]

Yandere!Jinx x GN!Reader Headcanons

Y'know, in a way, canon Jinx is already a platonic yandere for Vi.

Jinx—Powder loves her. She clung to that love for so many years. And when she saw Vi again, God, she really did think that things could go back to... normal.

Then Caitlyn came into the picture. Her sister followed her willingly, made her company. Jinx wouldn't admit it, but jealousy and fear overwhelmed her. Her detestable hallucinations made a show for it.

She proceeds to kidnap them both. Playing with their lives. The whole lore stuff happens, but one thing's for sure—Jinx still loves Vi. And that's only platonically.

So, does Jinx have the capacity to be an actual yandere? Yes. Yes, she does.

Mentally unstable, capable of killing without remorse, and obsessive—the whole package, sadly. I'm gonna go with the one-sided love for this headcanon specifically. I can't imagine her being in an actual relationship.

Alas, she's overwhelming. Her presence can be extremely suffocating.

Expect little to no boundaries or personal space. Honestly, just don't expect any sense of privacy from her at all. She'll pop up at anytime, anywhere, regardless of what you're doing.

Jinx adores you so much, and depending on your relationship, you can get her to do almost anything for you.

But remember, she's unpredictable, as always. She might do things that are completely out of sight.

For example, taking out that one topsider who whistled you over... What? Why are you upset?? You can't expect her to let that slide!

If you ever decide to ignore her, she'll simply follow you around—like a puppy almost—and quietly stare at you with her doe eyes.

You care about her. That's one of the many reasons why she fell for you. Even if it was out of pity—it doesn't matter. All she knew was that your actions felt genuine.

She gives you the same favor back in her own way.

Sure, she might not be able to comfort you like you comfort her, but look! She worked her ass off to make this music box for you! (Surprisingly enough, it doesn't explode when it finishes.)

"A fine tune made by yours truly, babe!"

Jinx has an intense fear and paranoia of you leaving her. She killed lost so many people. There are times where she'll keep her distance from you, but you and she both know it won't last long. She always comes back to you.

To counter her anxiety, she secures your safety in one way or another. Even if you can handle yourself.

At the very least, I don't think she'll kidnap you. She doesn't have to unless it's absolutely necessary.

But that's only because you're under her watch 24/7. If anything happens to you, it happens to her.

Please take note that she doesn't get along with jealousy well.

Be kind to her. Don't try, or even think, about leaving her.

Adding more stress won't end well for both of you.

btw jinx is doing this sign rn → 🫶😉

so silly tbh 🏄

[thatbugkidd]

*shy points* Ik this is probably irrelevant but I still love the design for the Absolute Salvation and was curious. Obvi since they're a demonic force, can they change their original form as well? idk why but like I'm imagining a grumpy pile of tendrils sulking in the corner. Anyways yeah. (also sorry for for spam liking)

So this one is kind of a complicated answer. AS in their original form can't physically interact with the world without a vessel. So for this form, it can heavily manipulate its appearance seeing as its not physically present. It's more like a manifestation. It would only appear to Cyn, being more like a hallucination for her. I feel like generally it would keep, roughly, the same appearance though, it wouldn't see a need in changing (yet)

Now, Cynessa is different HAHA

When AS has a vessel, as mentioned before, it can change its form on a consumption basis. This can give it the ability to shift into someone, with roughly the same appearance, likeness, voice, etc. (I say roughly bc, it can only replicate so well. There will always be some small differences)

It can also change its appearance grotesquely by duplicating appendages and body parts it already has (arms, eyes, mouths, etc) and overall can contort its body in extremely unnatural and painful ways. YES, it is all extremely painful, but the AS doesn't really feel the pain. It's more or less still sending the signals to what's still available of cyn's consciousness. So combining this with being able to steal body parts from things it's eaten, it can change quite drastically!

A side note for funsies but the wings the AS presents itself with is different than uzi's wings because the salvation views itself as angelic, and good. It thinks of itself as the Savior of the world, putting an end to humanity to start a new, better life. So it physically reflects that with feathered wings (though they still have claws, you can only hide so much.)

[suzukiblu]

Day twelve of “obligatory sugar baby Kon” behind the cut. prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Tim clears his throat and adjusts the collar of his shirt for honestly no good reason, and Kon keeps doing–Kon keeps beaming at him. There is just . . . there is just so, so much beaming happening right now, and it is very, very hard to concentrate on anything else. Or even, like, passingly think about anything else. 

Kon looks–he just looks happy, and Tim feels flustered and overwhelmed and vaguely nauseous, but like, in a good way, somehow, and . . . it’s a lot. Yeah. Just–Tim is currently feeling a lot of things, is all. Just . . . a lot. So much. 

Tim wonders if he could figure out a loophole to “legally” marry Kon despite the fact he’s fifteen and Kon is only maybe legally a person and/or citizen in the eyes of the government, because in that case even once Kon gets bored of Tim Drake he’ll be able to send him alimony payments or whatever, so– 

Actually, Tim realizes as he looks at Kon’s beaming face–at Kon’s beaming face beaming at him–and feels Kon’s hand still gripping his easily and comfortably, and Kon still leaned in closer than necessary even as they walk along the sidewalk together . . . 

Actually, he doesn’t feel like Kon’s getting bored with Tim Drake at all. 

. . . . . . huh. 

Weird, Tim thinks, a little too bewildered to figure out why he feels that way. 

“Oh, hey, that looks good,” Kon says, perking up a little more as he looks at something over Tim’s shoulder and points past him with his free hand. “We need a new dinner place, right? Wanna try it?” 

Tim looks where Kon’s pointing and frowns in confusion, because he’s pointing at a skate shop, of all things, not a restaurant or cafe or even a bar. 

“I haven’t touched a skateboard in months and also I have no idea what that has to do with dinner,” he admits, still frowning in confusion, and Kon laughs. 

“The food truck, babe,” he says with a snigger, pointing more emphatically. “You skateboard?” 

“Uh–sometimes, yeah,” Tim says, refocusing his eyes to realize–yeah, there is in fact a food truck there, parked just to the side of the skate shop. It’s very . . . yellow. Very, very brightly yellow. 

He can absolutely never, ever tell Bruce he missed something as obvious as a huge neon yellow food truck, Tim swears to himself, and then he actually registers what the truck says and . . . blinks, very slowly. 

“Is that the one-dollar grilled cheese truck?” he says. “I thought that was a meme or something.” 

“I mean, probably some bargain-basement content creator who thinks they're an influencer is running it as some publicity stunt shit, but one-dollar grilled cheese,” Kon says reasonably, except for how Tim cannot even imagine what about that statement would be “reasonable”. 

“You want to get dinner from the one-dollar grilled cheese truck?” he asks, a little incredulous about the idea. 

“We could get so many, babe,” Kon says with a gleeful grin. Tim, instinctively, is about to protest that they could get “so many” of whatever Kon wanted, in fact, and a truck that says both “cash only” and “no change given, figure out your own shit” in Impact font is literally just . . . what. What? But then he has a brief remembered flash of Dick saying there wasn’t any “one size dates all” and talking to him about circus tickets and tailoring dates to the other person's tastes and, well . . . 

“Um, sure?” he says, still vaguely bewildered. Kon needs more expensive tastes. He needs to get Kon more expensive tastes. And also maybe, like, better standards for a “nice” dinner. 

Kon beams at him again, giving his hand a squeeze, and Tim disassociates for a minute or two in an attempt to process any of that and entirely, entirely fails to. 

. . . alright, maybe some of Dick’s dating advice was helpful, he reflects. 

. . . . . . also to be fair, this also might be the Condiment King or some other D-lister about to start some shit, in which case it wouldn't hurt to throw a superhero at the problem anyway. 

And at least it's gonna be a lot of calories, right?

[theinheriteddutchess]

Ok so suede is extremely well behaved! I don't know if that's his personality or a deeper more psychological meaning👀🥺 but most kids would just wake up there parents especially when they're so young.

I'm so proud of him for doing it! 😭

Ok this whole scenario with Andy and suede…I am so filled with warmth. It's so cute and that little bit is visioning and loved and safe. And about to fall asleep lol.

Maybe her ovaries ache for a different reason 😏

See I'm not liking this, where she has to ask if she can take them away while he doesn't communicate his plans at all and would probably just take them and maybe inform her last minute probably. Her mom knew! She was right.

Though i get that it's hard if your kids would call another partner a mom or dad, the fact is Scott doesn't deserve to be called that title and it's sad how scared Audrey is to disappoint him.

… Even the playdoh isn't safe from Scott's bullshit.

Ok I wouldn't recommend topless cooking!I can only imagine grease splatters on your chest😭 that shits no joke

Lol she's a brat. And that little back and forth with the boyfriend\fiance thing To be honest she's being unreasonable and angry at the wrong person here.🤷🏻‍♀️

He he that burn about his fear of sharks, fucking hypocrit. Also! Why would Taylor's parents even accept this relationship? Their skank of a daughter should be a shame, and they would expect this relationship not to work out anyway. And I don't doubt she won't think of suedes allergies!

Fuck you Scott, truly get stubborn for that fat comment

And get double fucked for saying suede shouldn't be there. Fuck you, you fucking fucktard, I will dance on your funeral.

And Taylor can fuck of too, laughing at a two year old. She works protect that little bit, but she's vile. Sorry I just have no patience or empathy for either, I wish them horrible things. i want them to be humiliated and hurt, lile truly, maybe they'll never learn l but maybe, if they're down and vertonen they can understand what empathy is. Though I doubt it.

**“Fuck you. You are so self righteous. You act like you’re the perfect fucking parent, and nobody is ever going to compare to you. I hope Andy enjoys trying to please someone who is impossible to please,” you moan again. Having to bite on Andy’s arm. “You fucking slut. How dare you fuck that asshole while you’re talking to me!”*"

He he hypocrit, because you were fucking Taylor during your marriage, and also, yes, Andy is enjoying himself. A lot.

Okay I tired myself out😭

Until we meet again.

Ps, probably a gazillion mistakes but I tried!

Two Good Reasons, Part 8

Summary: something is happening

Pairings: Andy Barber X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, playful degradation, mentions of divorce, mentions of neglect, unprotected sex, slight voyeurism, Scott, creampie, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 5.7K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

“NaNa?” Suede looks up from the toys he’s playing with pointing down the hallway to your bedroom. Desperately trying to get Andy to wake you up, “Mama and Dee seep?”

“Yes, buddy,” Suede huffs a bit. Crossing his arms over his chest before his mouth flattens out, and he returns to his playing. Andy watches him a moment before looking back at the game on tv. Suede looks back down the hallway before pouting up at Andy, “Suedey, what’s wrong?”

“Me pee,” he says, rocking his body back and forward.

“In your diaper?” He shakes his head no, looking towards the bathroom, and he jumps up. His feet bounce around a bit before he jumps, holding himself. “Okay. Come on,” Andy stands up, and walks quickly towards Suede, “Let’s go, buddy.”

“Mama be mad?” His brows furrow as he starts bouncing around even more. Andy knows he has moments before Suede has an accident and gets upset for doing so.

“Your mama won’t be mad. Come on,” Suede holds himself as he runs towards the bathroom, and makes it to his potty just in time. He gives Andy a thumbs up, smiling so proudly at him. “You made it! Does that feel better than a diaper?”

“Chess! Me yike it. NaNa pee der?” Suede points at the bigger toilet, and Andy nods his head, “Me, too?”

“One day. And you’ll get to stand.”

“No,” Andy nods his head yes. “No, no.”

“Has your dad never,” he stops his question when Suede scrunches his nose up. Andy approaches the boy carefully. A child with so very little vocabulary, and still so young, but clearly Scott hadn’t been teaching him anything about pottying.

“Tay.”

“Taylor?” Suede nods his head, and Andy wonders what his limited words are trying to tell him. He’s noticed that you don’t ever press your children about time at their dad’s, so he doesn’t want to either. But he wonders if Taylor is the one that deals with bathroom or diaper duty, “You done?”

“Chess! My mama at?”

“She and Audrey are taking a nap,” Suede dramatically rolls his eyes at Andy, and pulls up his pants. “Audrey has a bit of a cold, and your mama is tired.”

“Ways seep!” He rolls his eyes again, starting to stomp out of the bathroom.

“Hands, Suede,” Andy’s voice is soft, but demanding. It’s not a question, it’s what Suede has to do.

“Ugh,” groaning, he gets on the stool, grunting as he reaches for the soap.

“I know mama has been needing some extra sleep lately, but it happens to everyone,” Suede shakes his head no, starting to play more in the water than washing his hands. “Yes, they do. Your mom works hard, she loves you and sissy harder, and…”

“Ove oo.”

“Yes, she loves me, too. Are you finished?” Suede giggles as Andy picks him up to use the towel. He swings him around until he’s sitting on his hip, and he peeks into the bedroom, and you’ve still got Audrey tight against your body. Your nose buries into her watermelon scented hair, and she clings just as tightly to you.

Suede gets one look at you and growls, “Now, you’ve got to share time with your mom. You could have taken a nap, too, and you said no. You want to nap?”

“No,” shaking his head no, he points at Andy’s chest. Sputtering out words before sighing. Once Andy gets into the living room, he points at the tv.

“You want to watch the game or Bluey?”

“Oo Oo,” that settled that. He yawns, and Andy chooses to ignore it, if you bring up nap to Suede, he’ll refuse it just to spite you. Still holding him he walks into the kitchen. Grabbing himself a beer, and a cup of watered down juice for Suede. “Nack, pease,” his speaking has immensely improved. Suede has slowly been able to put words into sentences.

“A snack. Hmm. What about your fruit salad? No strawberries, and no..?”

“Pies,” pineapples. Close enough. “NaNa, my ove oo,” he lays his head on Andy’s chest, snuggling in a bit tighter. He always tells fibs about being sleepy. Sleepy Suede, is more cuddly loving Suede.

“I love you, too, buddy. You ready to watch some Bluey?”

“Chess!” But his ’yes’ is just a little bit softer, and he never lifts his head off Andy’s chest.

—

You yawn, looking down at your daughter who rubs the sleep out of her eyes. Audrey looks up at you, giving you a sleepy smile, “Did you sleep as hard as mommy?”

“Uh huh,” she sits up in the bed, stretching big. “I like this new bed. Can we see what Andy and Suedey are doing,” she jumps out of the bed immediately, but waits for you to stretch, too. Going behind her, you scoop her up in your arms to blow raspberries all over her, but stop when you walk into the living room.

This is the sight you’ve always wanted to see; a sticky-faced little boy snuggled up against his dad’s chest, while both of them are passed out. The comfort that Suede feels with Andy matches the way he feels about you. You have no fears when he’s with Andy. You know that Andy has his allergies memorized, but also checks the list that’s on the fridge constantly.

He wanted to watch some football, but opted for Bluey so Suede could fall asleep. He agreed to stay up a bit longer with Suede, spend some one on one time with him, while you and Audrey were already piled up and snuggled. Sunday naps are your favorite for a reason.

“They’re sleeping,” Audrey looks at you with a big smile. You know she enjoys seeing Suede being happy and more content here. She shouldn’t have to worry about her brother, but she does. The best big sister you could have asked for. “Suedey likes Andy a whole whole lot.”

“So does Audrey, huh?” She giggles, nodding her head. “How about mommy and Audrey get a snack, and you can play at the table while mommy makes dinner?” She nods again, while you look back at Andy and Suede. He makes your ovaries ache. Seeing how good he is with children that aren’t his, you know this man deserves someone of his blood. You don’t know how, but you’ll make it happen.

You honestly can’t even wait to spend all these holidays with Andy and the kids. Biting on your lip, you glance at the family calendar, knowing it’s past time to ask Scott if you can go back to Michigan with the kids to spend time with your family for Thanksgiving. It was your weekend to have them. Scott hadn’t told you about plans with Taylor’s family, or if he was even interested in seeing them on the holiday.

You didn’t want to travel for Christmas, but Andy had the time off for Thanksgivng. You had the time off. You missed your family, and wanted them to see Andy with your babies. Let them see how much the kids have grown, and also a grownup Andy. Your mom obsessively talked about him. Even told you on your wedding day you should try and find Andy again because you were making a mistake. Mom’s always know best. And your mom definitely knew.

“Mommy?” You look up from slicing the vegetables for a roast, letting Audrey know she has your attention, “I think I messed up.”

“Why’s that?” She bites on her lip, looking more like you every day, even with her mannerisms. Audrey looks down at the PlayDoh she’d been kneading, and looks down the hallway towards the living room. “Audi? Is everything okay?”

“I called Andy daddy,” she sighs, and finally looks up at you. You meet her with a smile on your face. You and Andy hadn’t found the time or the way to bring up that comment. “It was at donuts for dad, and I just think I got confused. My head was all mushy, and I didn’t mean it. But I liked having him there, and showing my room. You’re the only one that’s seen it.”

Her face falls to sadness, and you lay down the knife. Walking around the counter island to hug her, “Sweet girl, Andy and I aren’t mad.”

“But what about my daddy? Are you going to tell him?” You weren’t. But eventually if Audrey kept feeling comfortable with Andy, and letting that title slip, he would know.

“Do you want me to?” She shakes her swiftly, and buries herself into your chest. “No. But I also think you should call Andy whatever feels natural. You naturally called him that because at that moment that’s what he felt like to you. Baby, Andy adores and loves you, and doesn't not care what you call him. Unless it’s something like poppy head,” Audrey giggles, finally lifting up from your body.

“What about daddy?” She pouts. No matter what, this little girl adores her dad, and she’s already over concerned about Scott’s opinion. “Won’t he be mad?”

“We don’t have to tell daddy if you don’t want to. Daddy never has to know. I don’t want you to stress about this. You’re four, almost five,” Scott is going to keep on and turn your precious child into a neurotic clam.

Her little fingers pet over your shirt, looking like she’s up to something. Her sly smile is so cute that you just want to give her a hard kiss on her cheek. “Can we go to Paris for my birthday?”

“No,” you answer quickly. Traveling out of the country with ‘Scott’s children’ would be out of the question. Going to Paris before her birthday would be even more so with planning alone. “Pick somewhere else to go.”

“Nini and Poppy’s?”

“That’s what I’m hoping to do for Thanksgiving. What about something around here?”

A finger taps on her chin, humming so sweetly while she thinks. “Can we go to the aquarium, and soft play, and then pizza, and then go to a movie?”

“I think that sounds like a magical day. Who do you want to go?”

“Our family,” you want to squeeze her so tight. Her sweetness comes out of her, and you need to preserve these little moments. “You, and me, and Suedey, and Andy,” you nod your head. Pressing a kiss to her forehead before placing her back in her seat. She’s making you oddly over emotional, and it feels so confusing and overwhelming, and you love it.

“Audrey, you are the cutest, most sweetest little girl I’ve ever met, you know that?”

“Yes, I do,” she gives you a little giggle, returning to her PlayDoh. You happen to glance at it a moment. “Is this what the judge’s bench looks like,” you finally understand Andy’s frustration with this.

“Audi, why don’t you make a cupcake instead.”

“No, I gotta learn.”

Waking up without the kids feels so awful. Yes, you have your wonderful boyfriend-fiance, and you refuse to call him fiance until he gives you a ring. And while waking up without them at home with you is better with Andy, due to the distraction, but it still sucked. The only good thing is having Andy prance around nearly naked.

He loves to keep the doors locked, the blinds closed, and walk around with his cock out all day. It’s like he’s teasing you. And you have no problem partaking. He really likes it when you’re naked or at least topless. Especially topless cooking, like now.

You’re being cheeky teenagers again, except without so many restrictions. Standing over the pot of soup, you giggle as Andy comes up behind you with his hands on your tits. He looks over your shoulders softly petting around your nipple. His smile is infectious as he pebbles the sensitive skin. “You’re so,” a lewd moan ripples through your throat, and you back your ass into his cock.

“Fuck me.”

“Sensitive,” Andy gives your nipples a hard pinch, and twirls you around to look at him, and you immediately cup his cock, and he meets your energy, except he shoves two fingers into your warmth, and you whimper, “You’re fucking soaked,” he’s shocked at how ready you are for him.

“I’m fucking horny,” you whine, grinding over his fingers like a bitch in heat. You’re so needy for him right now.

“Yeah, no shit, Doe. You are leaking out, and making a mess on your thighs. What has got you worked up?” His voice is laced with so much hunger for you. My god, this man and that cock you can have whenever you want. And you want immediately. “You’re so fucking messy.”

You can’t stop it. There’s something about his voice that sounds accusatory. And you’re fucking horny. You want to have sex, you don’t want to have a lecture. The soup is simmering and not ready. The kids aren’t here. And you want to be fucked so hard you fall asleep again.

“Maybe if my boyfriend didn’t walk around the damn house with his dick swinging around,” he grimaces at the word boyfriend and the way you emphasized it. “Get hard!”

“Make me,” you’re a bit irritated at him, but not enough to refuse making him hard. You sink to your knees, and take his hardening cock into your hand. You kiss over his member. Looking up at him with the sweetest face that you can muster. You’re not sweet. You’re a goddamn whore for Andy Barber.

“You are a horny little slut, hmm?” Shimmying your shoulders, you nod your head with a smile. Sucking his cock into your mouth so you can suck and use your tongue to massage him. Moaning as he turns to steel in your mouth. “Fuck. You seriously are a master with your mouth. My fiance looks amazing just like this. Taking my cock just like she was made to do.”

What? You pull off his cock slowly, and stare up at him scowling, “What?” He asks, mouth hanging open looking at you.

“Seriously?”

He furrows his brows, and you lose patience. Leaning back on your heels, he asks that stupid question again, “What, Doe?” You don’t say anything, just move to stand. “No. You stay and talk to me. What is your deal?”

Your deal? He grabs your arm, but you shrug him off, and march away from him. “Doe!” You keep walking away from him, but he doesn’t let up. Using your real name, and it hurts for some reason. The vitriol reaction you have to hearing him say a name that everyone calls you. Doe is special to him. His little deer.

“Do not call me that, Andy Barber!”

“I seriously have no idea what is going on right now,” of course he wouldn’t. Because he didn’t understand anything. And currently neither do you.

“Ugh!” Spinning back on your heels, you walk away. Again. Heading towards the bedroom. The two of you look utterly ridiculous; you wearing nothing but cheeky panties, and him completely nude with a hard on. Serves him right. Maybe he can have blue balls because the free show is over now. He needs to gravel, and plead.

“I sound stupid!” You scream at yourself, and you fall onto the bed like a petulant child. You sound like a toddler, and still you can’t stop the weird feeling. It’s not anger as much as it’s complete frustration. You can’t make it stop. You want to be fucked. You want Andy to propose like he said he would. You want to move and live in a house that doesn’t have Scott’s name on it. You want your children to quit leaving you every other weekend.

You want Scott to quit throwing lame excuses over your head trying to scare and threaten you. You want him to stop fighting for full custody. You don’t want him to even have joint custody. You want your babies. And you want them with you and Andy.

“Baby,” Andy coos on your back. He peppers kisses all over your back, and you cry more. You’re trying to be mad at him! “Honey, tell me what’s wrong?”

“I hate him,” he doesn’t have to see your face to know your crying. Your trembling body tells him.

“That’s not what set this off. Tell me what made you angry at first,” was it not Scott? Or is everything just rushing at you at once?

“You’re a liar,” you sound like a child. Audrey doesn’t whine as much as you are.

“I am not.”

“You said you were going to propose for real, and you haven’t,” make it stop. Go back to blaming Scott. You sound like an entitled asshole. Andy said he had a ring, and he said he was going to propose, and he will.

“I called you my fiance,” his voice is so soft, and understanding, but it kind of ticks you off again, and you try to resist. You don’t want to make things worse.

“And I hate it here. I hate that he takes our babies away every other weekend, and I only get to see their faces a little bit. Or when Suede tries to text from his ‘mini’ iPad, and it’s just emojis. And I love that you help him potty. And I’m so horny,” Andy chuckles on your back. He uses his feet to push legs apart.

His thick fingers start teasing through your weeping cunt, and another alarm goes off, “You’re trying to change the subject.”

“You just said you were horny, so I’m going to fuck you, and then we can talk about everything else like adults.”

“You fuck me from behind to much,” he growls. Actually growls on your body. “Andy!” His hands grip you tight before flipping you over on your back, and stepping in between your legs. He moves aside your panties, and you know how stupid it sounds inside your head, but you can’t stop it. “Are you seriously trying to fuck me like some bitch you met at the club without taking her panties off?”

He gives you the most angry grin you’ve ever seen. Tight lipped and irritated when he rips the damn things off, “Those were my favorite panties.”

“No, they weren’t,” you gawk at him. “No. No, they weren’t. Your favorite ones are those pink ones. They cover your full ass, and there’s something about the way they just don’t move on your body, so you’re not tugging them around all day,” you really gawk at him. He’s right. “And when we sleep, your ass cheeks hang out just the tiniest bit and I want to bite each one. So not only are they comfortable on you, they look amazing on, or on the floor.”

Andy crashes into your whiny ass warmth, and your back lifts off the bed. “Now, I don’t know what set you off, or why you’re being so unreasonable but I want to talk about it.”

“I want you to fuck me!” He pulls himself all the way out before slamming into so hard. “Fuck me!”

“I am!” He does it again. And again until your eyes start to crash. “I am your partner, and I want to listen to what’s bothering you.”

“Everything!” He stalls his movements, before leaning over you. His hands in a fist to hold his weight off you just enough. But you want to feel him on you. You want to feel that slight pressure and weight, and know that he’s there, “Everything. I don’t know how to explain it, and I don’t know how to talk about it. I spent so many years sucking up my problems because I didn’t have a real job, and he did. You don’t want to hear about my problems because you’re busier than me.”

“I do,” you shake your head no, but Andy grips onto your chin tightly. His hips slowly push and pull him out of your warmth. You really are a damn teenager. Can’t have an adult conversation without needing your boyfriend-fiancé’s cock inside of you, and all you can do is cry and shake your head. “Doe, I want to hear everything. We are partners. When you don’t feel well, I don't feel well. I want you to be happy because that makes my days better.”

“I don’t want him to have our babies,” you said it again without any hesitation. You want Andy to have your children. You would ask him to adopt them today if you knew it was possible.

He nods his head. His rhythm is still so steady, “The custody hearing is getting closer,” it isn’t a question, but you nod your head. He knows that’s part of what’s bothering you, “Honey, I’m not going to let anyone take the kids from us.”

“You can’t promise that,” Andy leans forward, and kisses each cheek, pulling back you notice the shine on his lips. “Did you just kiss my tears away?”

“I did. That’s what I want. I want to kiss away all your tears, and I want us to be okay. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me,” tears steadily flow down your face, and he keeps kissing over your cheeks, and it doesn’t help. Except those tears stop hurting so much. You’re now crying because you’re so happy with the right partner. “Honey, I love you.”

“I love you,” your words bubble over. He’s so perfect, and you’re just not. You’re not a superhuman, you’re not the thinnest, the most beautiful, the smartest, but you know you’re a damn good mom, and you were a good wife to an asshole. But you could be the best wife to Andy. “I want to marry you.”

“You’ve got to get divorced first,” you snort. Finally sounding happier than sadder. He smiles, kissing you gently. “I’ll marry you the day after if that’s what you want.”

“It was always you,” you may sound silly. You two may argue over the stupidest things. But it was always him. “I’m sorry that I’m a child sometimes.”

“You’re normally not,” he bites his lip as he pounds into you quickly. “Now, hold — fucking hell!” He yells, slamming his hand on your phone. “You’re answering it.”

“You are fucking me,” giggling, you read his name, and know why Andy wants you to answer.

“And I’ll keep fucking you. So you better listen to little Scottie the first time,” whimpering, you shake your head no.

“Just finish quickly.”

“I don’t want to, I want to take my time. Answer it.”

Groaning, you click on the phone, “Hey,” Andy is an asshole. He keeps a slow rhythm into your body. “What are you needing?”

“Why do you sound sniffly?”

“My allergies have been irritating me lately,” you can feel his eyes roll, “What’s up?”

“Taylor is wanting to throw Audrey a party,” he blurts out. You don’t hate Taylor. But you don’t think Taylor is capable of throwing Audrey a birthday party either. Plus, she’s got the celebration one in her classroom, and doesn’t love large crowds. “She wants to give her a party at an event center with clowns.”

“She’s terrified of clowns, and characters in costumes,” she likes her characters 2D.

“She’s not over that yet?”

“Are you over your fear of sharks?” Scott huffs. “I’m listening. What else?” Andy pistons into your body so hard that you have to slap your hand over your mouth to keep a sound of deep satisfaction from escaping. “Jerk!”

“Just have Taylor’s family,” why? “And a few kids from her classroom,” a few can range to a large number. “She wants a caterer.”

“For a five year old?” You already see what Taylor is doing. She wants her family there, so she can show off how much her boyfriend can spend on silly little things like a birthday party.

“Not everybody wants to make everything by hand like you, Ms. Perfect,” you know Andy is aware of everything that Scott is saying. It’s why he grits his teeth as he pounds into your body balls deep, and lets the tip of his cock settle against your cervix sweetly. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” just having the best sex with the deepest penetration.

“You’re panting.”

“I just got off the treadmill,” just getting fucked.

“Honey, it’s not baby weight anymore, Suede is two,” another harsh move into you, and Andy’s face starts to turn red. Angry with Scott’s unnecessary harsh words.

“She wants to go to Paris.”

“Absolutely not. I’m not paying for that shit.”

You roll your eyes. Scott seriously didn’t understand, nor were you asking him to pay for anything. “She’s obsessed with Madeline. Why not do a Parisian theme. But for fuck’s sake, can the two of you make sure that Suede can have everything there? You know how kids are.”

“You could keep him that day.”

Andy bites your neck slightly too hard, “Ow.”

“What?” Andy growls on your skin. “Oh god, did I upset Andrew?” No, he’s pissing you off.

“You upset me. Either Suede goes, or you don’t need to throw a party for Audrey,” he starts to say something, but you speak louder, “That’s his sister, and you know the special bond that they have. Either you include Suede in the festivities, or you don’t do it. Audrey will want to talk about it, and it won’t be fair to our son.”

“He’s fucking two years old, he won’t remember it.”

You lift up on your elbows, throwing all caution to the wind when you grab Andy’s ass, and pull him deeper into you. You wink at your fiance. “Do you think he doesn’t know the disdain that you have for him? How you won’t even spend the goddamn time to help him pee in the potty while he’s there? Do you think Audrey doesn’t tell me about the giggling you and Taylor did when he cried because he had an accident that smelled. Shit stinks, you asshole. Even your precious Taylor’s. So either you have a party that Suede can fully be a part of, or don’t bother throwing a party that she doesn’t even want anyways.”

Andy moans, and Scott whispers an expletive. You hope that Scott knows that you’re getting ground into with the biggest cock right now. Andy pushes into you faster. Harder. “Is there a problem, Scott?”

“You can be a bitch sometimes. Just didn’t realize it until after we split.”

“And you can be an asshole sometimes. I always knew it, but I overlooked it for some reason. And if I ever hear about you and Taylor making a comment about Suede’s shitty diaper again…” Andy pushes into you so hard, your eyes roll into the back of your head. You can’t make threats. “He’s a baby, and we are teaching him to potty train. If you don’t want to change diapers, do the same at your house.”

“He’s with you more.”

“Consistency is the key. Is that all?” His side is silent, minus the heavy breathing. You can hear his finger tapping on something. His annoying fucking habit when he gets angry. Fucking asshole. He’s a little bitch. Having to make a two year old feel bad for an accident in his diaper to make him feel superior.

“Audrey shouldn’t — are you,” he pauses. You’ve stunned him into silence, and he doesn’t even know what to say, “What do you want?”

“I want you to treat both our children the same. I want you to treat Suede like he’s your son, and that you love him. I want you to be just as proud of him as you are of Audrey. I want you to stop pushing the responsibilities of our children onto Taylor. I want my son to come home happy. I don’t want him to see me, and not want to let go of me for a few hours. Mmm,” Andy really is an asshole for pushing into you so deep that you can’t stop the sound of bliss.

Scott knows. He knows that Andy is giving it to you so good, and when you get off the phone that Andy is going to fuck you like a slut. “Andy told you to write,” he sighs. Yes, Andy and you have been writing down every indiscretion to your children that he does, “I just can’t connect with him.”

“What are you saying?” Your fingers dig into Andy’s ass. You're angry. You’re pissed. You’re ready to kill your ex.

“I don’t,” he’s choosing his words carefully. You wish he would just rip the bandaid off. “He’s not an easy child. Audrey is. I had bonding time with her. And then…”

“And then my postpartum depression cramped your sex life. And then our son became the number one man in my life. And then our son was sick all the time. You never even tried to connect with him. You never even noticed that I was drowning. All you cared about was getting your dick wet. So my advice to you is to make sure you don’t knock Taylor up, because you can’t handle anything with a penis being put above you. Is that all?”

“Fuck you. You are so self righteous. You act like you’re the perfect fucking parent, and nobody is ever going to compare to you. I hope Andy enjoys trying to please someone who is impossible to please,” you moan again. Having to bite on Andy’s arm. “You fucking slut. How dare you fuck that asshole while you’re talking to me!”

“My fucking slut,” Andy grunts before reaching to your phone, and ending the call. “After this court hearing, and when it’s determined about the kids,” he stops himself. His thrusts are angry. “Do you realize I want to,” you cover his mouth with your hand, shaking your head.

“Do not say that. I just want our,” you smile at him, letting him know that it’s not an accident when you say our, “babies. Oh god,” he ruts into you, and your body becomes soft for him. Pliable to his every move, and you stare at the man that didn’t even have to try, and he reached your ‘impossible’ standards. Scott is wrong. And you’re never going to allow him to hurt your self esteem ever again.

The only thing you want is to know that your babies are safe, and in a loving environment. And if he can’t provide that for them, he might as well just give up trying to fight for them. He only fights for them because it hurts you. But his fight is becoming stale. The only thing he’s holding onto is his pride. Knowing that Audrey could be his legacy, and never thinking that his son could. He wants you to hurt. He wants to shove something in Andy’s face. And all at the expense of his children.

One of these days, he’ll give up on the fight. And when he does, you know that Andy won’t hesitate to pick up those pieces, and be willing to adopt both children, and legally become their father. It’s in knowing a man. It’s knowing that even when you’re acting ridiculous in an argument, that Andy isn’t going to stop. That he’s not going to make some snarky comment that kills your self worth.

He crashes his lips into yours, and the two of you pant. Breathing in each other’s air. Entangling your bodies together in the most beautiful sin. One of these days you won’t have to worry about these conversations. You won’t have to worry about the bane of your existence. You’ll be able to sleep every other weekend because you know that your children are in a safe home.

He presses his forehead against yours while he drives his cock into you so hard. Fusing his body with yours. You can’t look away from his beautiful eyes. Can’t think of anything more besides the fact that Andy is the most beautiful human. Andy is the epitome of a perfect man. Not just in looks, even though he really is the best. But the fact that he isn’t toxic, and he’s all man.

His eyes darken, and his body tightens, “I’m there, Andy.”

“I know, honey,” his salacious moan has your body setting on fire. He’s so vocal during sex that you never have to worry if it truly feels good for him, or if you’re just ‘doing your wifely duties’. “I feel your walls pulsing around me. Squeezing me so tight. Let. Go,” breathing him in, you let every wall fall down as euphoria races through you. Your cunt clenches down around him, and you mewl out his name. Thick. Hot ropes of cum shoot into your pussy, and Andy’s body melts on top of your own.

You just breathe. You soak him all up. Every last drop of him. This will be the one that takes. You know it will be. You furrow your brows as you look up at the ceiling. Counting in your head. Are you even ovulating? Are you…?

“Hey,” he pops up from your chest, smiling, and you forget all the counting. He’s so pretty after sex. “Tomorrow when we go to pick up the kids. There’s somewhere special I want to show you.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Andy!”

“Doe!”

“Daddy!” He covers your mouth with his hand.

“Woman, being called daddy by you is not my thing. I know you’re doing it to make me cringe. But I just had the best sex of my life, and pissed off a little wanna be man in the process. Let me revel in that fact, and also the fact that your cunt is so full of me that your eyes are swimming,” you shake your head no. His hand is still covering you, but he knows you're smiling.

“Yeah, you’re swimming in Andy cum and Andy dick.”

“I love swimming in Andy.”

“Andy just loves you,” and with that, he kisses you softly. Savoring the different taste of you after sex. He could tell you about all the things that are different about you, but he’ll save it. He won’t be able to save it for too much longer. You’re just being too silly and stressed to realize.

Next

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[0ceanic-cosm0s]

To the Hellfire - chapter 3

[Josh Washington x F! Reader]

5.6k words

masterlist - two - three - four

Chapter wrote by @sharkology & @xghostcr0wx

⚠️chapter warnings⚠️

[smut, non-con drugging, angst] MDNI

(smut warnings under the cut)

🔞smut warnings🔞

[switch! josh (mostly dom josh), reader says good boy like once, afab reader, fingering, unprotected sex (don't be silly, wrap your willy), josh is kinda gross (in a hot way), choking, oral fixation, squirting, cumming inside, teasing and taunting, manhandling]

You were right on his trail as he left, his footsteps heavy and loud with frustration and anger. Your timid steps followed behind. You both walked in silence (him mostly just stomping) until he reached the door to his room in the lodge. He stops for a second, looking at you with a glare. You’ve never seen him get so riled up.

“Enjoy the little show?” He mumbled, turning back to the door and opening it-quickly heading in and sitting on his bed with a loud sigh.

You felt a pang of hurt as he treated you a little harshly, but you understood his tone and why he was acting this way; the whole ouija board was a dumb decision in the first place. It was probably embarrassing to him that you had to see him like that. You enter slowly, shutting the door. You keep the main room light off and walk over to the lamp on his bedside table to turn on the dim light, before sitting next to him and giving him enough space for his comfort.

“Josh..I understand why you’re upset. But, you don’t need to act like this towards me. I’m here to help you. Not to get this cold behavior.” He looks over at you, his face contorted with anger and confusion. But it gradually fades as he lets your words sink in. He looks more like he’s just regretful and sad now at how he was being towards you.

He groans, looking away as he rubs his head anxiously. “I know I know, I’m..I’m sorry [Y/n], I just…I feel like I was getting messed with, ya know? Like..I know how much we love playing tricks on each other, but this feels a little overkill..”

“Yeah, you're right. It doesn't really matter anyway. I'm over it.” Josh deflects but you can clearly tell that it's quite the opposite.

You listen to his words, nodding along. “I don’t think they were messing with you, Josh. Especially knowing how sensitive the topic of your sisters is for you. And, to be frank, messing with ouija boards is not something to treat like a childrens board game. Those things are real, and have scary consequences. Nonetheless being on Native American grounds. This is why I was so against it, because I knew something like this would happen.” Josh just looks down to the ground, his expression looking like he has a lot on his mind. Like he was getting ready to say or do something. After what feels like an eternity, Josh speaks up.

“Josh, you don't have to pretend to be fine. I would be just as upset if I were in your shoes. If anything, I wouldn't be able to carry myself as well as you do.” You assure him and put a hand on his warm back. Josh's gaze is still on the ground and the room falls silent for a second. You can tell Josh is looking for the right words to say.

“Thank you, [Y/n]. I appreciate it, I really do.. No one's ever-” Josh’s mouth slightly hangs open as he tries to find his words. “I just don't want to think about it right now. I just don't want to think at all right now.” He admits, rubbing his temples with one hand. You watch, silently. Chewing your bottom lip anxiously as you two sit there in awkward silence.

You knew Josh was going through a lot right now, and you could only imagine what was going on inside his head. You knew you couldn't do much to ease his pain, but the most you could do was be there for him. Over the months you've known Josh, you've learned that his biggest working coping mechanism so far is distractions. There were times where he had a shitty day and called you up just to talk, play video games, and distract him from whatever terrible emotion he's feeling. And you're more than happy to do that.

You take a deep breath in and prepare yourself as you firmly take his hands into yours, putting them on each side of your waist, and embracing him into a gentle hug.

“[Y/n]?..” Josh whispers at the side of your head. He was taken aback a bit, but definitely wasn’t opposed to this affectionate action.

“Just, let me do this for you.” You murmur, tightening your grip around his back. “Let me be here for you..” You rest your chin in the crook of his neck, the scent of his cologne filling your nostrils. He sighs, a small smile forming on his lips.

“Thank you.” He whispers. He rests his head against yours, quietly inhaling your scent and hair. His large and rough hands gripping your soft flesh against your clothes. The clothes that he couldn’t help but want to rip off of you the moment his hands were on your waist. The hug lasted longer than just a friendly one, and you knew he noticed that too. There was no questioning it; you both wanted each other in one way or another. The tension filled balloon that's lasted over the 8 months since you met is about to pop.

As the hug continued, Josh tested the waters by lightly rubbing his hands up and down your sides, his grip getting a bit more confident. You began feeling some type of way, getting more bold with the newfound wave of arousal, sexual tension, and energy. Your fingers delicately and playfully travel down from his back, to his chest, and down his semi-toned body in a painfully slow way, making sure to tease him with every soft stroke. You take a gamble by hooking your fingers underneath his pants and boxers, but only on the hem which drove him absolutely mad.

Your thumbs caress his v-line, enhancing the sexual atmosphere. Josh was loving every bit of this, and he started to nuzzle into your neck-leaving light kisses against your warm and soft skin; eventually turning into rough ones with a few bites here and there as your hands began to unbutton his pants while your lips placed hungry kisses against his shoulder.

“Let me take care of you, yeah? I’ll give you something else to think about..” Josh leans away to look you in the eyes, a smirk on his lips as he raises a brow at you.

“Yeah? What did you have in mind, Marbles?” He asked in a lighthearted tone. You smile, a seductive glint in your [e/c] eyes. You firmly push him back against his bed, and start sensually stripping off your sweater and leggings in front of him, leaving you in your skirt and undershirt. After placing yourself in between his thighs, he bit his lip and looked at you with adoration and excitement, ready for whatever you were about to do to him.

Josh bit his lip in anticipation from your words as he looked you up and down. “Oh? Well, I’m all yours to handle~” And with that, you begin to undo his pants further, pulling up his shirt and leaning over to his stomach as you plant kisses of appreciation all over his skin-pulling down his pants in the process. Josh sighs, and his eyelids lower. His heart rate picks up as he watches you, your beautiful figure treating him like his body was the most precious and delicate thing in the world.

“Let’s just say, something I’ve wanted to do for a long, long time.” You reply back, giving him a not so innocent smile.

Once his pants were low enough, you rise a bit and look down at his bulging boxers. He looked absolutely delicious, in this view, just for you. You look up at his lust filled eyes and bring your face closer to his-a soft gasp escaping his lips as you slowly bring his boxers down next. The intense eye contact had his head spinning and he needed to do something with these overwhelming emotions.

He grabbed a fist full of your hair, not too rough though, and crashed his lips onto yours in a heated kiss. You both hungrily consume each other while you take his pulsating and thick cock into your hand and begin to stroke him. Thankfully it was already soaked in precum, making it easier to rub him up and down at the speed you were going.

Through the kiss, you could feel his whole body stutter and tense with pleasure as you continued to stroke him. His hips slightly raised off the bed, chasing for more. You could tell Josh was slowly losing his composure as he started to let out small broken moans, while trying his absolute best to continue the kiss.

“Ngh~ Fuck..” Josh whimpers out as he turns his head away from your intense and lustful gaze, maybe in embarrassment? You didn't expect him to start whimpering and falling apart this early, not that you're complaining, you actually want to keep pulling these delicious sounds from him.

Josh’s neck is exposed to you, so you take the liberty to start kissing it and leave small marks. You slowed the pace of your hand down to a more sensual one while making sure to never stop sucking on his neck. Josh’s senses were going into overdrive and he definitely felt like he was going to cum soon, but he didn't want it to end. This caused his thighs to tense under you from the stimulation, and he put his hand on your wrist that's stroking his length to anchor himself. Which you found to be one of the hottest things ever.

Josh puts the back of his other hand on his mouth, clearly trying to muffle the beautiful sounds he's giving you.

“Don't be shy, I want to hear you~” You say in a sultry tone while grabbing his hand from his mouth and bringing it to your clothed breast. Instinctively, Josh whips his head at you; those beautiful green sex glazed eyes fixated on you. His hand started to massage your breast under your grip, using his thumb to stroke against your nipple from under your bra that was growing harder from the stimulation.

Your eyes start to flutter and you lean into his ear, “Thaaat’s it, there’s a good boy. You’re doing so well for me.” You whisper. The praise lit something inside him and he needed more of you. As you’re continuing to stroke him, Josh removes his hands from you and to your shirt-damn near ripping it off and tosses it aside. His fingers go straight to your ribs and grips you for dear life. His half-lidded eyes soak up every inch of you with lust and adoration.

“Wow..” He whispers breathlessly in between moans. “..You’re so fucking beautiful [Y/n].” His hands dart to the back of your bra and unhooks it, letting your tits out into his view. He was basically drooling from the sight, immediately taking action. He leans up and captured one of your nipples into his mouth and swirls his tongue around it like it was the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted, while using his hands to hold you in place and to pleasure your other nipple with his fingers; pinching and circling with his thumb at an unbelievably delectable pace that had you heating up to the core.

“Fuck, Josh..” You whimper out, unable to control your voice. Your hand strokes his dick sporadically, unable to contain your focus. This pushes Josh to go further as he moves a free hand under your skirt, and starts stroking your already damp underwear. Josh hums at the feeling, circling a finger on your clit-causing you to suck in a sharp breath of air and buck into his hand. “Oh, someone seems to be desperate for more, huh?” He mumbles against your breast. You roll your eyes, “You’re one to talk. You’re practically using my hand to fuck yourself.” You make an emphasis as you squeeze his cock that was frantically rubbing against your hand.

He hums, in a somewhat defeated tone. “I guess I’ll take a loss on this one then, hm?” He guided your hand away from his cock, clearly wanting to let you have all the attention right now. You didn't know what he had in store for you, but you were excited for it.

His index and middle fingers rub circles over your clothed hole, before pushing past the boundaries of your underwear, in between your coated folds, and slowly sink them into your wet pussy-earning a harsh groan from you as you lean your head into the crook of his neck. “A-ah fuck~” is all your able to manage out from the feeling of his thick fingers.

“But that doesn’t mean I won’t take my revenge~” He coo’s into your neck, kissing and biting your skin. He works his fingers into you with such precision, you'd be surprised if he didn't have any experience beforehand. You grind yourself down onto his hand, chasing for more. You could feel your body grow in temperature from the body heat and pleasure. You look down at the sight below you, and what a sight it is; Josh's lidded green eyes intensely gazing up at you, his bottom lip slightly pulled between his teeth. His face clearly searches for any slight reactions you make, almost calculating. You feel your body flush even more just from the way he's looking at you, the intense eye contact making everything feel more passionate. You feel him working you up, getting you close to your peak, but your body feels a small wave of disappointment and confusion once Josh's fingers leave from inside you.

Josh sits up and puts a firm hand on your waist, using it to turn you over on your back so that he's towering over you. The position instantly made you feel submissive, and Josh's eyes never left yours.

“You look so damn hot underneath me.” Josh declares and all you can do is let out a bashful whine. Josh smirks at your reaction and roughly puts his hand on your jaw, the switch up only turning you on even more as you can feel more slick build up in between your legs. You instinctively put your hand on his wrist that's holding your jaw.

Josh moves his fingers out of your mouth and replaces it with his tongue, reaching down to catch you in an almost-rough, passionate kiss. Your hands instantly gravitate towards his hair, gripping at the dark brown tufts to pull him impossibly closer than he already was which earns you a groan from Josh.

“Where's all that confidence now?” He smugly asks, feeling as if he won with your silence. Josh uses his hand on your jaw to use his index and middle finger to prod at your lips, parting them. He sticks his fingers into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue causing small strings of saliva to spill out of your mouth. You can taste yourself on the same fingers that were once inside you, only adding to the erotic sensations you're feeling in this moment. And all you can do is look him in his eyes that continue to stare you down with dominance. You didn't expect Josh to have this kinky side, not that you're complaining, it's actually quite the opposite. You're soaking it all up, letting him do as he wishes with you.

His wet fingers trace down your body, passing your nipples and giving it a light pinch, causing you to slightly arch your back, pull your bottom lip between your teeth, and let out a small squeal. You feel him lightly chuckle into this kiss from your reaction, and he continues to rake his saliva coated fingers down your body, only slightly touching you, sending shivers down your spine. His fingers make their way down to your mound, teasing you and caressing you there, making you wiggle around in anticipation. The kisses move from your mouth to your jaw, then to your neck. Josh makes sure to take his time there, sucking more dark marks onto your warm skin. His fingers prod at your entrance, collecting just enough slick to ghost his fingers over your clit.

“J-Josh..” You say in a strangled voice, his teasing making it hard to find your words. Your hips involuntarily stutter into his fingers.

“Yes~?” He replies in a low, sultry teasing tone, urging you to say more. You could feel the bass of his voice vibrate against your neck and it only enhanced all the senses you were feeling. Josh slightly lifts his head from your neck to make eye contact with you. With his eyes dark, lidded, and his hair tousled only enhanced his looks in this moment.

“P-please..” You can feel yourself become bashful under his stare and you find it hard to keep eye contact. It's still hard for you to believe that you're even in this position with Josh right now. All the nights you lay in bed alone imagining what it would feel like to be this close to you in such a state is finally coming to fruition.

Fingers trace their way up your torso, circling around your breast, and tracing back down.

“C’mon. You're a big girl, use your words~” Josh teases. You swallow thickly, your fingers raking up into his brown locks. The smooth strands of his hair being gripped by your hands roughly as you gain your focus to speak.

“Please, I need you to fuck me. I’ve been needing this for so long..” You whisper breathlessly. Josh’s lips part a bit, and something changed in his eyes. They seemed, hungry. Frantic. Desperate, even. It sent chills through your veins and you found it enticing.

“Well look at that, she CAN speak. Such a good girl~ Your wish is mine to grant..” Josh licks his lips as he makes his hands to your breasts, fingering your nipples sensually. Your back arches, and you can feel your pussy throbbing more for friction. You let out a soft moan, which Josh laps up when he places a rough and hard kiss to your lips. His hands find their way to your waist and up to grip your ribs. His fingers rub against your bones, inciting a welcomed tinge of pain. He breaks the kiss slowly as he leans up and looks at you with a pure sex filled gaze,

“I’m gonna need you to prepare yourself, ok? You think you can handle that?” He whispers.

You give him a confused look. “Why?”

He smirks, and places his dick at your dripping wet entrance-your body instinctively jerks on his tip. “Because I’m gonna rearrange your guts.”

Before you can react, he firmly plunges himself inside you. The amazing stretch of his length inside you makes you whine out, and he quickly covers your mouth. “Shh, don’t want everyone to hear us now do we?” He mutters into your ear. You shake your head and whimper as he picks up the pace. Your juices coat his dick which makes it easier to adjust around him. The pressure and harshness was so new to you, you didn’t know how to cope. Your legs wrapped around his waist and hands gripped his hair more. His pace was fast but also steady-your body was writhing underneath him. Loud moans and gasps were muffled by his hand that was trying to escape. His own breathing was labored but controlled, and his eyes were shut tightly. You could tell he was enjoying this to the fullest.

He pushed two of his thick fingers into your mouth, and your tongue happily licked them up and down. You guys made eye contact as you did so and you could feel his dick twitch inside you from it. “You have, NO idea how long I’ve wanted this [Y/n]. I fucking missed you so much. I’ve dreamed about this for so long, God you feel incredible.” Josh breathlessly claims, taking his fingers out.

You drink up his praises like a dehydrated pup, and your heart starts to beat faster than it ever had. “I missed you too Josh, I’ve wanted this for so long as well. I’ve wanted to be with you like this since I left the mental ward. Jesus, all I’ve thought about was you.” Josh’s eyes flicker for a moment. Like a deep thought crossed his mind. His expression dropped slightly, but just as quick as it came it was gone. You were gonna ask about it until he pressed his lips on yours and continued to pound into you and it erased any thought you had.

His fingers dig into your flesh, his nails were definitely gonna leave marks. But you didn’t care. All you could think about was his dick absolutely demolishing you. The sounds of your guys’ combined moans and his cock fucking your wet cunt was all you could focus on. Josh brings a hand down from your waist to your clit. His finger pads work on it in rough yet gentle circles, coaxing out intense shocks of pleasurable waves through your body. Your hips thrust into his to match his pace as you chase your high. “C’mon baby, you got this. Let yourself unravel. I want to feel you cum on my dick~” Josh coos against your lips. You whine out a moan as you nod, putting your attention on your upcoming orgasm.

The way his cock was rubbing up into your walls, the way his hips were slapping into yours, his groans echoing into your ears; it was all you could’ve asked for and more. You were going crazy. Your hands went to his back, your fingers digging into his toned body. Your nails leave harsh mark lines to show your..Intense actions with each other, you could say. But you didn’t care. And Josh was certainly loving it. The pain and pleasure mixed into one was making the euphoric atmosphere between you two, far more enjoyable than you guys would have imagined.

You were almost there, you were almost reaching your peak; everything was building up and up. Josh clasps his free hand around your neck, lightly and effectively choking you while never halting the movement of his fingers on your clit and the pounding of his cock. All you're able to do is arch your back and moan in delight as you instinctively reach to hold onto Josh's hand and wrist that's gripping your neck. Josh's thrusts start pistoning into you with such force and roughness that it deliciously rubbed against your inner walls in all the right spots, his fingers on your clit moving at a rapid pace, and his grip tightening ever so slightly on your neck, you were on cloud nine. You feel the pressure in your lower regions build higher and higher, almost as if it was about to pop. You were so close.

Josh leans in close, his warm panting breath tickling your ear. You're not sure what he's doing and everything is happening too quickly before you can find out. You feel something wet and warm sensually slide from your jaw to your cheekbone, the peculiar feeling sent shivers down your spine. That's when you realize Josh just licked the side of your face, taking you completely off guard in such a pleasurable way. You didn't know Josh could turn you on and heighten this moment more than he already has-

“You’ve earned it. Now fucking cum.” He commands in a stern, dominant tone. This is all it takes to push you over the edge, the pressure finally popping. Your vision fades slightly and you feel your eyes roll. All the muscles in your body tensed and tightened, your back arching. Your mouth opens, probably ready to let out an incredibly loud moan but you can't tell anymore. Josh continues to ride you through your orgasm, never stopping his pace and movements on your clit.

All you feel is wet; so, so wet. Your thighs, the sheets under you-Josh‘s hips that were slamming into you; everything felt drenched. You don't find out why until your vision fades back to normal, leaving you to look down where you and Josh were connected. Everything was completely soaked in your cum. You can feel your face burn red as Josh stares at you surprised, his hips stuttering. “Fuck, baby- did you just…?” You had squirted for him, because of him, and it was the sexiest thing he's ever seen in his life.

You weren't expecting this to happen, so you do all you can think of, and just nod. This only causes Josh to speed his thrusts, chasing his orgasm and in turn overstimulating you. “Shit- you're so fucking dirty, baby.” He accentuates each world with a deep thrust. Watching you squirt for him was all he needed to push himself over the edge, his head rolling back, his grip on your neck tightening and untightening. Josh lets out the most beautiful sounds you've ever heard a man make when his seed spills into you, filling you up. (Thank God you were on birth control though, because if not this moment probably wouldn’t have felt like it did). Heavy breaths and broken moans leave both of your guys mouths as Josh slows his pace to a halt, releasing his grasp from your neck and using his hands to hold his weight above you, head dipped catching his breath.

This was the most beautiful and erotic experience to ever happen to you-and Josh as well. You were so overstimulated your body and nerves were literally vibrating inside your skin. You soak up Josh’s form utop; his messy brown locks pulled in all sorts of directions that made him look so sexy, the sweat accumulating on his beautiful olive skin, it was all so intoxicating to see. You look down and huff a small whimper of disappointment when he slowly pulls out of your dripping cunt. He lets out a deep groan when he looks at you, all disheveled and covered in each other's cum. What a gorgeous sight to behold.

“Wow, Marbles..” Josh mumbles as he soothingly rubs your thighs to relieve some tension from your muscles. “..Never thought I’d have a girl squirt for me. What an honor~” You scoff at his teasing comments and use a hand to lazily swat at him.

“Oh shut up. You liked it anyway.” You remark. He catches your hand and raises a brow. “Liked it?” He repeated. He uses your hand to travel down to your coated pussy and sticks your two fingers inside you-your body twitching a bit from the contact, and pulls your fingers out and into his mouth.

Your cheeks flush incredibly red at the sight; his eyes close and he moans against your hand as his brows furrowed in pleasure. You can feel his tongue slowly lick up the fluids from your fingers, and GODS was it hot. He pulls your fingers from his mouth and opens his eyes and leans in for a rough kiss. He sticks his tongue into your mouth and forcefully flushes some of the mixed cum into your mouth-earning a surprised muffled gasp from you. But you don’t reject it. Instead you allow it and embrace the taste.

It was bitter, sweet, and salty all at the same time. You never thought you’d enjoy this kind of taste before, until now. Because it was with Josh. He leans back a bit, smiling that oh so adorable smirk he always had on, “I don’t like it, [Y/n]. I fucking love it.”

You smile weakly, the exhaustion catching up to you. “Is that so? Well I guess we should do this more often then, huh?”

Josh’s eyes sparkle at your words, and nods enthusiastically. “Yes PLEASE! I would love a second round of the bone zone with you.” You both laugh at his eager tone and playful words-taking this moment to just relax and be happy with one another.

“Okay you're done.” You smile and mock roll your eyes at him. Josh just stares at you with that stupid-adorable grin and you playfully shove your hand in his face, shielding his eyes from you. Josh just prys your hand away from his face and pins it down beside your head. “Come on don't be like that, you know you love me~” He deeply whispers close to your face and leans in for a sweet kiss, your lips moving against each other's for a few seconds. You stare into eachothers eyes in silence for a little, Josh looking at you with adoration and much more. If only this moment could last forever.

“Alright I gotta go pee.” You break the silence, your bladder crying out to you causing Josh to roll off of you, letting you sit up. “Well, can I watch?” He asks which you take so unseriously and roll your eyes. You start to dress yourself, getting ready to put your panties on your sticky body before Josh stops you, handing you a towel and you thank him.

“Is there anything you need or want me to get while you're in the bathroom?” Josh asks genuinely, and you find it sweet.

“Uhmm… just a cup of water would be good,” you give him a warm smile while wiping yourself off and changing into your clothes.

“Alright I got ya. The bathroom is the door right across from mine.” Josh informs you, continuing to pull on his boxers and leaving you to take your time to ogle his half naked body. It was still hard for you to believe that you were able to get so close to Josh, see each other again, and then be intimate with each other. You weren't here for a quick fuck and then leave, you wanted to stay for the endgame, to go out on cute dates together, to spend nights in eachother’s rooms watching stupidly bad horror movies, playing video games, and waking up next to eachother. You just hoped Josh felt the same way, but you think you're confident he likes you.

After changing back into you clothes, minus your sweater, you leave Josh's room. The colder air of the hallway in the lodge wafting in your face. As you open the bathroom door, you could feel the transition from expensive hardwood floor to expensive tiles underneath your feet.

After finishing with the toilet and washing your hands, you take some time to look at yourself in the mirror. It's still so hard for you to wrap your head around what just happened, you feel like a giddy school girl. Months and months of crushing finally lead to something and you can't help but want Josh to be your boyfriend.

Josh was waiting for you back in his room, ready with a cold glass of water for you. You open the door to him sitting on his bed, unfortunately now fully clothed, messing around with something on his phone. Josh's eyes reach yours and he gives you a small smile grabbing the water for you off of his nightstand. You take a seat next to him on the bed, taking the water from his hand, thanking him.

As you raise the glass to your lips, you can feel Josh’s gaze on you, staring, taking glances between his phone and you. As you take a few big gulps, a small voice in the back of your head wonders why Josh is watching so observantly while you drink water. The water's cold, refreshing and you finish about half before you're satiated, reaching over him to set it back on the nightstand.

You and Josh continue to talk with each other for a little bit. During the whole conversation Josh would periodically glance at his phone, checking the time, but you weren't sure why. Only 15 minutes into your conversation you start feeling off. You can't explain the feeling. It's as if your body is slowing down. You've reduced your responses down to nodding along with lidded eyes.

“Josh… I’m- m’not feeling good…” You manage out that one sentence, hopefully it's enough for Josh to understand.

“Hey.. just lay down a bit, yeah?..” You feel a warm hand on your back and another on your shoulder guiding you to lay down the bed.

It doesn't feel right anymore, this doesn't feel right. You don't feel good but it's not like you're sick. It feels like your body's slowly shutting off. You can’t really make out what's going on around you. It's like everything is in slow motion. You try to open your mouth, but it suddenly feels dry and your ability to speak goes away. You try to raise a limp arm off the bed, but it doesn't go far; you no longer have control over your own body.

You see Josh's face looking down at you, calculating and watching your every move. You were drugged. You're sure of it. From what, the water? Nothing tasted off, right? Why though? Why would he do this? Why would this happen? Everything was going fine, right? Right..? The only thing you could think about was betrayal and fear you felt in this moment. What was going to happen to you?

The last thing you see is Josh standing above you, peering down at you with a torn look on his face, making no move to help. Many emotions washed over you; hurt, betrayal, and confusion. But you're not able to process them before you let go of consciousness, the world around you fading. And then..It went dark.

[a/n]: here's the long awaited chapter! Sorry for taking so long we got way busier than expected. One of us ended up moving to the next town over so it took a while to get free time to write. All the other chapters should be coming out a lot faster now!

Taglist: @puppygirlella @sigma-alpha-writer-chad

[hinakazino]

⏳ REX LAPIS & THE MORTAL ⌛️

warnings: pure angst, hanaki disease referenced, zhongli struggling between friendship and love (?), unrequited love, maybe requited if you squint.

Zhongli not knowing how to feel when you confess your love for him. He can't lie, you're quite bold, a mortal daring to express their admiration so valiantly to their god. However, his heart is already taken by another.

Zhongli, or better yet Morax still remises about her. The long lost god of dust, with her soft grey silky locks billowing in the wind, her kind eyes and smile as she greeted him to discuss another of her inventions. Her silhouette atop a mountain in her signature dress and star-imbued sleeves. Zhongli's eyes have a look of gentleness in them you've noticed when she is in his mind. Honestly, you're already grateful enough to be this close to the Rex Lapis, the Geo Archon. You're but a human who managed to capture the hearts of the adepti with your kind nature, happy energy, and curiosity.

But even with all this, you long for more. You wish for the gaze of not just your archon's closest companions but him himself. It is a cruel thing, you're aware, humans and their untamable desires. In the end you ended up confessing, on the basis of not wanting to lie to your god and also why not? It was a horrid mistake.

After a moment of awkward silence, Morax's eyes once soft seemed to have an empty glare. Filled with disgust, anger, disappointment? You wouldn't know, all you registered that day was him telling you to leave and not get wrapped up in fantasies as a human.

That should've been the end of it, is what you thought, and what Zhongli thought. Nonetheless you proved to both yourself and him that it seems humans are quite stubborn. Despite the obvious pain that weighed on your heart from rejection you continued asking for his hand.

Before you had voiced it with the intent of being his equal. Which you soon realized wouldn't suffice. Zhongli wasn't one to sugarcoat his words, "Guizhong, she was the one meant for me. There is no one who can replace her in Liyue and in all of Teyvat. Do not test my patience, you've already stirred up less than pleasant memories little one".

Perhaps you had too much hope, as soon you began degrading yourself to the point you'd offered your hand in marriage not as an equal, but as a worshipper. To this, Zhongli had escorted you to the Guizhong ballista, where he proceeded to explain quite fondly the creator of said machine.

Maybe even Morax himself realized what a heartstabbing punishment this was. Having you listen to him ramble on and on for half an hour about her before ending with the point that this is exactly the key difference between you and Guizhong.

"You have to understand, you are but a mortal, she was a goddess. Your affections would be better directed elsewhere. This is the last I will tolerate this, I bid you a good day".

Zhongli should've been happy, because after that day your presence was nowhere to be found. Well, not exactly, although you had stopped visiting the adepti's and performing your standard rituals for him. The Geo Archon was well aware of all who resided in Liyue and knew you were still there too.

Could it be potentially you had broken into the Geo Archon's heart? No, that was impossible, all he did was feel pity for you obviously. "Why do I keep imagining the impossible..." you repeated to yourself, sitting inside the comfort of your room as you glanced out your window at the lovely scenery outside.

But you knew that even a persons state of mind could change how they perceived the world and right now everything just felt dull. The only memory present in your mind was replaying itself over and over again, it wasn't pleasant.

You're quite certain you'd confessed to Rex Lapis more than 50 times now, pretty much 5 years or more in your life. Yet his last message to you that day was the final straw.

It was so very frustrating, how your feelings towards him just wouldn't go away. You had attempted to build other romantic relationships to no avail. It was suffocating that your emotions just wouldn't disappear, they just couldn't be buried.

Oh but they can, you thought to yourself suddenly, and afterwards your last thought was to find true love in your next lifetime. As on a cool and calm night, you had laid yourself to rest.

The next day, no particular day really. Randomly out of the blue, Zhongli had heard of you once again after you distanced yourself from him.

It confused him, his adepti didn't dwell on his love life much. It was no secret they knew you harbored affections for him. However, that wasn't the reason why he found them all gathered here today.

As he approached them, his fellow adepti had parted a path so he could see for himself the cause of commotion. There, laying on a soft cushion was you.

Lifeless. Dry. Your eyes were softly shut, your face devoid of any emotion with the exception of a small titled smile on your face. But even that Zhongli could tell may have perhaps been his adepti's doing as part of their little ceremony for you. It became quite obvious then that you had decided to end your life due to the pain. Or, maybe the pain had ended you because no one could ignore the obvious flower that now sprouted from your chest. Bright and lovely, standing proud with petals that glowed amber like Cor Lapis.

[selfish-cat]

Veilguard Re-imagined

Given how DAV turned out to be, I think it would've been much more interesting if it was more in line with what Trespasser was hinting at. Spoilers below:

Instead of ooo bad evil gods and bad evil people, the factions could've been so much more nuanced. And you know who would've been super involved? The elves. Elves still struggling with the truth of their Vallaslin. Elves tired of being treated like dirt. Elves who are proud of their heritage.

I'm imagining the main 3 factions would be:

Evanuris: The base of their followers would be the Dalish who have worshipped them for centuries and don their Vallaslin. Whether or not the Inquisitor spreads the news about their tyranny (and whether or not they're believed), as a people who have lost everything time and time again, why would you turn away the chance to regain the former glory your people once had? The gods wouldn't have to try very hard. They were leaders once of course they know how to sway people. Make them sympathetic! Show them mourning their friends and lovers and lost empire. Have them cast doubt over Solas' claims! They can still have their "bullies and tyrants" and their blighted dragons but they would also have the desperate and disillusioned, maybe some of whom you can still reach out to and pull back.

If you want to bring the Blight in, it would be easy enough to blight their followers under the premise of empowerment (Solas isn't the only one who can lie). Instead of throwing a billion reavers at me, give me intelligent blighted creatures who think they're reclaiming their agency, who think they're avenging themselves, their loved ones, and their ancestors by spreading the blight to cities. It would also be a good way to distinguish between the gods' followers and other factions.

You know who wouldn't be joining them? Tevinter supremacists whose Imperium past prided themselves on conquering the elves. Or the Antaam who haven't renounced their beliefs and upbringing—you don't shake off that lifelong wariness of magic unless a lot of people get real chill with a lot of things real fast. I'm not touching the Butcher part because I still don't understand it although confused, lost track of the plot, wanting to turn yourself inside out? Relatable.

Fen'Harel: Rather than being relegated to a troll in the comments, let Solas lead the army he amassed in Trespasser??? All the Dalish and the city elves who are tired of being systematically oppressed and have been for literal ages?? He clearly cares for their freedom, as established in DAI (I had feelings when he finally called the Dalish "our people" but then it was followed by EA/Bioware nonsense). Other than the one line about him breaking the chains of slaves at the beginning, his deeds are never mentioned again other than to berate Rook.

I think his forces would be smaller. More scouts and spirits that specialize in skirmishes. It would be a three-way fight between the Evanuris, Solas, and Rook (with support from the Inquisitor and different implications depending on whether you disbanded or not). I think it'd be very interesting if you established a friendship/romance with Solas' and his forces withdrew when the Inquisitor appears vs. continue fighting if you decide to burn that bridge because choices matter EA. None of the elves in his forces will have their Vallaslin.

Keep the flashbacks. Keep the lore. Keep Mythal. But also keep the character instead of teehee lied to you again why would I listen to reason uwu.

Rook: None of the party needs to change or even the order of recruitment or any of the powers at play. They're all so charming and fun and clearly written with love.

Of course Harding will be there as a rep from the Inquisition. Let her work through her struggles with the Maker and the Golden City lore. Let her explore Titan lore but in a way that doesn't end with welp guess that's that and now let's not bring it up again since there definitely won't be implications with dwarves across all of Thedas. Neve works with the Shadow Dragons and would be sympathetic to the whole situation. Keep Aelia and involve the Venatori that way—strictly in Tevinter and unrelated to the gods. I imagine their forces were severely weakened after Corypheus. They can still kill the Archon in preparation of installing one of their own in if they want because that'd be in line with their established motives.

Bellara and Davrin can help shed a light on their perspective of things. Bellara tries in DAV but given how elf involvement was basically dismissed with "nah they're steering clear of the evil gods and we defs don't have a problem with any of this" t'was rough. It would've made more sense bringing Cyrian back aligned with the gods than suddenly bringing up a Forgotten One (excellent DLC option in the Tirashan though). Davrin struggling to distance himself from his heritage and empowerment via Wardenhood and fatherhood (lol) is very interesting to explore instead of idk being a farm boy even though it'd be awfully hard to farm without a permanent settlement, which apparently was a thing but I digress. Keep the griffons and Isseya but tie her to Ghilan'nain in a sympathetic but warped way (of course Ghilan'nain loves the griffons and is sympathetic to their plight. Why not make them better? Isseya's a city elf but why would she doubt the Mother of Halla?) Also definitely keep that chat with Solas and have more of that!

Lucanis and Crow lore. Imagine debating with him about practices of kidnapping and torturing children to train them. Characters can grow and learn (look at my best boy Dorian) and when he gets promoted to First Talon, maybe he'll keep your words in mind if your bond is high enough. Taash and Emerich had more personal things to deal with which is great. Not every character arc has to be directly tied back to the Big Bads. In DAV's case, it would've made more sense if they were just standalone issues instead of trying to be like "yeahh y'know, Venatori support. Yup."

And if you play Rook as an elf, there should definitely be a city elf and Dalish option because they're different cultures EA. You can't just have options like "I'm Dalish where it counts" and say "Our Gods" and "Your People" in the same scene because what even does that mean EA. Very good posts about this stuff here and here and here

Ending: At the end of this power struggle, where the gods are inevitably taken down, instead of a uwu everyone lived happily ever after except those who died, there are! Ramifications! Those were elven gods that almost destroyed everything! Why would they just let elves be and the Dalish chill and settle in Arlathan Forest (nvm why they were allowed back in the first place given how the Dalish treat the Dales and how they expect people to react to their presence there)?

Depending on how you play all your games (or a neutral score for new players), I think this is where you see the results of your choices. Did you garner sympathy and support from leaders? What leaders did you put in place? Will things return to a tense status quo? Will there be another Exalted March where they're driven even farther away? Or will there be introspection and understanding maybe resulting in a new Halamshiral for the Dalish somewhere and more rights for city elves?

As for Solas, I think his outcome would depend on the Inquisitor's choice in Trespasser. Do you kill him, leaving any future attempts to breach the Veil a risk? Do you fade into obscurity with him to live out a peaceful life in secrecy? Or do you convince him to give Thedas as is a second chance now that the gods are gone? He can disappear, maybe he occasionally has visitors or visits those he considers friends while keeping an eye on the world and the Veil (he'll be the new Veilguard which would make that ending line make more sense)?

[austenpoppy]

Guys, I love both Dickory and Dickbabs. Everybody hates Annual 2 because, 1) it spits on Dick's character, 2) it spits at us in the face, 3) it makes a mockery of all ships, 4) the timing doesn't make any freaking sense. If you read New Titans, there is just no way Dick would or could have cheated in that moment in time, not after what happened with Mirage, when he was blaming himself for being raped and not recognizing Mirage was posing as Kory, when he was holding on to his relationship with Kory so tightly as his last source of happiness after losing Joey, Raven, Danny, Arabella, Vic in many ways, and there was also something going on with Clark (was he believed dead ?).

But let's not stump on poor Dick during that time in New Titans. Please. Let's not make up things that weren't there. And let me convince you there was no domestic abuse involved.

The images I put below are, at least the way I interpreted them, a dream sequence imagined by Kory in her sleep, which we know because right after, before the scene itself ends, there's an image of Kory waking up in her bed in the middle of the night due to Dick's incessant ringing. Plus, the very tone of that sequence seems off, exaggerated - like a dream would be.

New Titans #99

And if you're wondering about Dick's tattered costume when he comes in Kory's flat, let's just say the art is inconsistent - Dick had, as you can see, no visible hole in his costume after Kory blasted him if that sequence were real, so I don't see why we should consider this a real scene on that basis alone.

As for the random strangers, they're...not random strangers ? The guy Dick punches in the face is a paparazzi who was photographing him along with other paparazzi right after Kory broke up with him, and were harassing him and taunting him/making fun of him - they heard Dick shouting after Kory.

New Titans #97

Yeah, if you look at it I guess it's still assault under US law, but frankly you'd have to be a saint not to punch one of those slimy buggers in the face after everything that went down. Also, Dick doesn't seem to like paparazzi much - years later, he was less than pleasant to the people harassing Alfred in the Vesper Fairchild murder.

Part of the Bruce Wayne: murderer ? story arc

Do I hate that Kory broke up with Dick that way and blamed him for what went on with Mirage ? Heck yeah. Do I hate that Dick proposed to Kory as a last resort not to lose her ? Also yes. But I wouldn't say those issues were worse than Annual 2. It goes downhill after (you can guess I'm still fuming about many things that went on after that wedding, including but not limited to Kory's character progression being erased, and Dick shouldering the entire blame of their relationship's end and thinking he was too "self-absorbed" in the whole Mirage episode).

Thinking about shipping problematic pairs from last night…

Something that really annoys me is how everyone goes off on Nightwing Annual 2, but mention Dick and Kory’s wedding as a shitstorm of epic proportions, and you get crickets.

I own Nightwing Annual 2. In print. I paid above the cover price for it. (And I read comics digitally. I don’t own single issues in print much at all - couldn’t even fill a short box with my collection. Trades, yes, issues no.) Yes, it is heinously out of character for Dick to have cheated on Kory with Babs, no question. And the scene when Babs comes to the door to see Dick and is lied to by Kory, and leaves in tears and then Kory lies to Dick about it? Also very out of character for both of those women. Both of those moments are really serious missteps of writing, that is for sure.

Aside from those two parts, which I pretty much skip over when I read it anyway, I really like the book. Joe Bennett and Jack Jadson’s art is beautiful. It always is, but Bennett’s Babs is extra stunning and an A+ to them for remembering how tall Kory is. (Their run on Birds of Prey is also my favorite art on that book.) In terms of story, I love the rest of the memories Dick and Babs recount - getting locked in the safe together, Babs POV of when Dick tried to tell her how he felt about her, and the ending is heartbreaking and beautiful.

But, I mean, really. To like this book publicly is to rain down a storm of fandom haterade on yourself. Which, to be honest, fine. That kind of thing doesn’t really bother me in and of itself. It’s just the hypocrisy of it all. New Teen Titans 97-101 is at least as bad - worse, IMO - in terms of characterization for Dick and Kory and no one ever says boo about it. Dick hits total random strangers because fighting with Kory makes him angry. He gets physical with her, and she blasts him with starbolts. Straight up domestic violence. And still, crickets! I have a 13-page NOVEL about how many problems I have with the way DickKory has been written, at least half of which revolves around that engagement/wedding… (a lot of which is really angry and I hesitate to publish but had to write out for myself.)

But why? Is it because - other than TT!RobStar - there aren’t many real DickKory shippers left to either excuse or renounce it? Is it that DickBabs is an “actively sailing ship” and all of us shippers feel like we have to trip all over ourselves to make an exception of Nightwing Annual 2 so that people won’t hate our ship?

Like, what’s the deal here?

[starcraftt]

i was finally home. to stay ── .✦

AUTHOR'S NOTE : i'm obsessed and that's okay. REASONING : i got bored nd had cooked up some ponyboy headcanons so jst decided to make all of them some. ^^ <3 WARNINGS : none of these are probably accurate i dunno man it's late?? like,, really late and i have school tomorrow i'm sorry. :( </3 ( no actual warnings that i could think of !! )

RANDOM OUTSIDERS HEADCANONS !!

゜✦゜₊⁺  ✦゜₊⁺   ✦゜₊⁺  ゜゜✦゜₊⁺  ✦゜₊⁺   ✦゜₊⁺  ゜゜✦゜₊⁺  ✦゜₊⁺   ✦゜₊⁺  ゜゜✦゜₊⁺ 

𝐏 𝐎 𝐍 𝐘 𝐁 𝐎 𝐘

|| 𝐂 𝐔 𝐑 𝐓 𝐈 𝐒

— Ponyboy wouldn't like puddles. I feel like he just doesn't like rain in general, so he can stay in and read, but I feel like if he had to go out, he would hate stepping in puddles or passing through them. ( iykyk and i'm crying lmao )

— PONYBOY CAN DRAW AND I FEEL LIKE WE ALL FORGET THAT SO, i feel like you could find him drawing what he imagines book characters to look like, or objects in the books??

— Ponyboy is a perfectionist but only on some things.

— OML Soda has totally walked into their room to find Ponyboy c r y i n g on his bed, and after Pony calms down, Soda asked what he was crying about only to find out it was about a book.

"are you kidding me pony" "i'm sORRY"

— has a weird addiction to horror movies despite hating them and they give him nightmares i cant. they're his guilty pleasure because darry always says the cause of his nightmares were the horror movies he watched.

𝐒 𝐎 𝐃 𝐀 𝐏 𝐎 𝐏

|| 𝐂 𝐔 𝐑 𝐓 𝐈 𝐒

— Sodapop actually isn't that bad at spelling, he just forgets a letter here and there. Like, he'll misspell 'missing' as 'mising', but the next time he writes 'missing' he'll spell it right. his mind is just too distracted and i feel that.

— SODA HAS TOTALLY TRIPPED IN FRONT OF A GIRL AND TRIED TO PLAY IT OFF SO CHILL.

"meant to do that" coughs

— Soda 100% tries his best to help Darry with the bills and such, hating to see his older brother weighed down with all the stress. Never thinks he could do what Darry does nd admires him lots.

— actually kinda enjoys being on the side of watching his friends mess around like?? Sodapop loves knowing that his friends all get along nd -- agjshshshjgshshs

— he supports it fully if/when the steve is the one attracting the girls one day, never the jealous one.

— LEGIT THE BEST WINGMAN.

"hey, what's up?"

(probably evie or smth) "oh, hey." her friends around her giggling at sodapop because he's cute. <3

"so, you see that guy over there?" gestures wildly over at steve. "yeah he kinda needs someone to dance with." casually leans against the wall like he's flirting with her as he winks subtly.

𝐃 𝐀 𝐑 𝐑 𝐘

|| 𝐂 𝐔 𝐑 𝐓 𝐈 𝐒

— Darry would totally be one of those people who seem like they instantly know how to do everything but I feel when he used to have free time he'd jst randomly learn random things.

"darry you know how to juggle??"

"yes."

"darry you know how to cartwheel?"

"yes."

"darry you know how to read??"

"pony --"

— hates supernatural things, ghosts actually scare the shit out of him im not kidding.

— but when he watches horror movies he's just sitting there blankly while pony is trying to not scream at his side. and when they walk out and ponyboy's jst all shaking nd stuff darry's just like: "broski you okay?"

— loves organization for no reason, it doesn't help him have a clear mind or anything he just . . . goes into pony and soda's room . . . . . and organizes,,,

𝐓 𝐖 𝐎 - 𝐁 𝐈 𝐓

|| 𝐌 𝐀 𝐓 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐖 𝐒

— Two-Bit ( doesn't get enough love ) probably had a childhood crush on Minnie Mouse.

tries not to admit it or is boldly proud of it. depends on who he's talking to.

— Two-Bit doesn't cry over real life things, but he would totally sob over a Mickey Mouse episode or something.

— Legit the smartest ever but doesn't attempt at school and this is why he was held back.

— TOTALLY USED TO HAVE A STUTTER WHEN HE WAS YOUNGER.

— you could NOT understand this boy it was that bad.

until his mom made him start reading to her aloud and it got better. 👍

— actually has once almost passed out from wheezing laughing too hard.

— drama queen and we love him.

𝐉 𝐎 𝐇 𝐍 𝐍 𝐘

|| 𝐂 𝐀 𝐃 𝐄

— Rip Johnny Cade, you would've loved child protective services.

— Johnny probably has tried his hand at creative writing nd he totally enjoyed it. Hates writing essays nd shit though.

— PLS PONYBOY WHEN HE HEARD JOHNNY WRITES A BIT FORCED HIM TO SHARE SO NOW THE TWO HAVE TIMES WHERE THEY BOTH SHARE RECENT WRITINGS AJGHHSJ ponyboy fr johnny's hype man because he knows how hard writers are on themselves (most of the time) </3

"i wrote this one yesterday idk man i don't like it"

"what the fuck johnny this is amazing??"

— johnny has and forever will create characters based on people from the gang. just someone from the gang casually inspired a part of the character. he didn't use to be so subtle about it though.

scribbled down character sheet with jst the basics - 'james thomas: funny guy and the only thing that comes out of his mouth are jokes'

"johnny is this two-bit"

"no."

— leGIT, he once saw someone at school doing a sick secret handshake and convinced ponyboy to make one up with him.

— he probably once didn't like dallas because ponyboy admitted randomly how he didn't like dally and johnny just kinda went with that.

𝐃 𝐀 𝐋 𝐋 𝐀 𝐒

|| 𝐖 𝐈 𝐍 𝐒 𝐓 𝐎 𝐍

— Dallas Winston cries at seeing spiders and you cannot change my mind with this. When he's around someone though he tries to play it off so cool though.

— he gets cuddly when he's drunk and johnny is most normally the prime target for hugs.

— says he hates kids but also hates seeing kids cry and will probably try and do something to make them feel better so they'll just stop crying.

— used to have a lisp on the word 'world'.

— genuinely loves any affection but is not willing to give it himself.

𝐒 𝐓 𝐄 𝐕 𝐄

|| 𝐑 𝐀 𝐍 𝐃 𝐋 𝐄

— Steve,,, i feel like he doesn't actually enjoy Mickey Mouse, he just watches it when it's on because it's something to watch and he knows if he admits it, Two-Bit would hit him and then cry.

— literally can sing the greatest ever but you never catch him doing it. not even soda knows so you know it's secret.

— cannot focus at work when it's just soda and him, all giggling and messing around until a customer walks in and bro just shuts up as quickly as he can without making himself laugh again.

— steve totally used to legit bully the fuck out of ponyboy when pony was like, five. he's toned it down. it's not that physical anymore.

— steve, and i cannot stress this enough, is such a fucking simp i cant.

— the best best friend. i feel like he'd try and act all 'tuff' and stuff, 'forget' what soda or one of the curtis gang mentioned wanting before getting that exact thing for them on a gift-giving holiday. he saved up so he could get them that. :(

[sevikas-biceps]

[TLDR: me rationalising and then ranting about why Caitlyn and Cassandra are both in the wrong]

Y'all. We love Cait, and we do stan Cassandra in some regards—but be fucking for real. Think of them as real people, in the real world, doing real things. Y'all would hate them. I'm putting Cait's gay love and Cass' gay support aside—because I really do feel like a lot of people gloss over their flaws just because of the queer rep and allying.

Think of it. The Kiramman's ventilation system was the bare fucking minimum being done for the people of Zaun. Caitlyn weaponising it is literally a violation of human rights practices. We know how privileged Topside is, we know there are at least sympathetic characters out there—and both of these are true for the Kirammans. What does this imply? That the Kirammans were essentially one of those at the top of the hierarchy, and this put them in a complete position of ability to help.

But they didn't. That's the issue, people.

One of the previous matriarchs putting the vent system into place was to solve the matter of the air pollution, yes—but arguably, the people of the Undercity shouldn't have had to deal with that problem to begin with. Cassandra might've been aware it existed; she gave her daughter the key, after all. However, that does not mean she actively came to the aid of the people of Zaun. Hell, do you think she was even aware of Silco, for instance? At the beginning? Maybe she'd've heard whispers from informants, about some old peacekeeper people called the Hound, and then about some mysterious tycoon taking his place. Maybe Grayson said something about the Undercity's concerns in the past, during the time of the first insurrection, but the Council took no note of it. Maybe Cassandra had someone else in place to make her dealings, if ever she dabbled in that black market shit.

Whatever else you can think of with that line of thinking; at the end of the day, it just proves that Cassandra herself was only another person stuck in the cycle—she did her job, she was cunning and selfish, she played the game. It's just business. It's just politics. No more, no less. The original line-up on the Council had members that were either ignorant, negligent, or corrupt (and yes; that includes Heimerdinger, Mel, and Jayce you guys)—and Cassandra was no better. Again, they all were part of the same damn cycle to begin with.

What makes Cassandra remarkable as a character—to us, the audience—is that she's remembered as someone redeemable because of her love for her family, for Caitlyn; that she was willing to try for her daughter's sake and happiness. Caitlyn. Not the city, not her kid's new girlfriend, and most certainly not Zaun. Above all else, it boils down to her little girl. Her only child. Cassandra being on the Council meant that she could give that child the best life that she could; Cassandra being on the Council meant that the child has a future. It implies that peripherally, she was aware of the Undercity's issues—hence the little frustrations exchanged about Caitlyn becoming an officer and venturing into the Undercity in Season 1.

That's her redeeming quality. Duty for family.

[If you want a visualisation of her actual nature, I'd honestly recommend using Olenna Tyrell, Tywin Lannister, and Jon Arryn from ASoIaF/GoT as points of reference.]

Now, onto Caitlyn herself. Credit where credit is due; the girl is in the middle of grieving, and she's being denied the chance to have even that. She doesn't deserve that. No one does. It would be unfair to deal her an amount of resentment for going unstable, when we'd all been rooting for Jinx for half of the same reasons in Season 1. But that's the issue: half of the same reasons.

Let's be honest for a quick second here. Do we really think Caitlyn would've ever gone down to the Undercity had Jinx never attacked on Progress Day? With someone like Marcus hot on her trails, if he lives in this hypothetical alternate reality, I imagine she wouldn't even be placed near the bridge(s) to begin with. And if, in canon, he'd survived the explosion, I can also see Caitlyn being put on house arrest—because if Marcus himself is outed as working with Silco (similar to how Grayson did with Vander), then that's all the more reason to keep the Kiramman heiress away from danger, or worse, death. If things are so bad that the Sheriff, symbolically a paragon of justice and protection, resorted to consorting with the enemy...well, what then? What does that say about the system?

Back to Caitlyn. I'm a firm supporter of the idea that she never would've been put into a potential line of fire had life gone on normally. If Jinx never stole the hexcrystals, then Caitlyn would have no reason to snoop around; Vi is still in Stillwater, Silco is at large, and so on and so forth. Caitlyn remains largely ignorant of the world she lives in. It's noble that she genuinely wanted to help people. But in a place like Piltover? She'd be worse than Jayce when Season 1 began. I'm sure she'd no doubt notice the surrounding manipulations in her life, or how flawed their reality could be—but the point is, at the end of the day, it's still a privileged life that she leads.

Let that word sink in. Privileged. This isn't to disparage her original desire to make her society a better place—I do think that Caitlyn has the potential to do so if she exerted her efforts into long-term developments that could fulfil that vision. But this is where it gets tricky—especially in the context of Season 2. She had all of those resources at her disposal. She was aware of the consequences in using them—how it might affect civilians, innocents. And she still did so anyway. Strike one.

For all that she was a decorated officer, it's really the personal vendetta against Jinx that made her unfit to lead the strike team to begin with. I imagine Vi refused the enforcer position at first not just because of her and her people's history with the authority, but because it's so blatant that doing so enabled Caitlyn to act in her anger. By accepting the badge, Vi validated Caitlyn's need for vengeance. Not that Caitlyn is unreasonable in wanting such a thing, mind, but what is unreasonable was how tone-deaf she'd become in the process of grieving, forgetting that it's not just her own interests on the line, but others' too. Strike two.

There's nothing wrong with Caitlyn at the beginning—the girl just wanted so solve a crime. But then circumstances came up. And then, all of a sudden, she has to choose between duty or self-interest. What the show does is that it gives a convenient solution for Caitlyn to be able to serve both her duty and her own self-interest(s): invade/scour Zaun, she catches a criminal and delivers justice for the Council; find Jinx, Cassandra is avenged and Vi may find closure. The fight at Janna's temple is where it all indeed goes to shit, as we can see, and that's where Caitlyn really slips off in my opinion. She'd toed the line when she asked Vi to wear the badge—but it's really when Isha (a child) got involved and later on when she struck Vi herself (a betrayal), that her motives get warped. Strike three.

My main argument is that Cassandra and Caitlyn were both in the wrong, in one way or another, albeit for different and varied reasons. The former didn't do enough for the situation at hand, and the latter seems to be doing too much at once. Cassandra herself seemed to have enabled her daughter's worse traits, too, whether directly or indirectly; and this is what makes up much of the character that we see Caitlyn evolving into.

There are many aspects of both mother and daughter that have always been there, or, at least, have had the potential to be there, such as: the ruthlessness, the narrow focus, the determination, the strictness—and, most of all (and I have a feeling this is going to be controversial), the hypocrisy. We know, for a fact, that Caitlyn and Cassandra are at least self-aware. To merely label them as naïve or inexperienced (to life) is a gross disservice to their characters. On some level, they're cognisant of their status and ability in society (evidenced by baby!Cait's scepticism regarding Grayson's trophy, and Cass' agreement to support their case at the Council meeting)—and they both have exacted measures in the face of what is demanded of them.

This is the reason that Caitlyn weaponising the Grey, using the Kiramman's ventilation system, is more or less unforgivable. Just because it had Vi's hesitant approval, it didn't make it right. Vi counts as an unreliable narrator in this case—when we know that she, in multiple instances, easily caves when someone she's attached to doubles down on her.

We, as the audience, can at least agree on the moralities regarding the authorisation of the strike team; and we, as people analysing the show, can also agree that the effects of an act such as using the Grey can be devastating. We see this in Viktor's chronic illness, we see this with Silco's asphyxiation trick on the Chembarons, we see this when Jinx knocks out Sevika, we see this in Cassandra's notes. Stop trying to downplay the Grey. Stop trying to justify a fucking war crime. 'Oh, but it's just knock-out gas'—baby, no it's not. It's really not. Smeech explicitly says this: factory smoke trapped underground. Smoke. It's still gas. There's no safe way of administering it in high doses. That's like smoking Marlboro Reds taken beyond the extreme, and fuelled by gasoline of all things.

I'm not villainising Caitlyn, but some of y'all also need to stop excusing what she did—and I'm saying this because a lot of you also did the same with Jinx in Season 1. For the lack of a better example; it's very much like excusing what serial killers of the past had done because they were 'interesting' or 'charming' or hell, relatable. Be Gay, Do Crime is most definitely not applicable here, you guys. Seriously.

That is literally the reason Vi snaps at Caitlyn after the fight with Jinx. Why are you the one acting like her? It's not just a comparison between Caitlyn and Jinx, it's not just vendetta against vendetta; in a broader context, Vi is asking: Why are you resorting to the same acts of terrorism? Why are you enforcing the same tactics your predecessors used? Why are you turning into what you once swore not to become? Why are you doing this? What are you turning into?

Vi asked Caitlyn to promise her not to change. But she did.

Why are you betraying yourself?

[gothic-aesthetic-gal]

Old Scars (Part 1)

Ledger!joker x reader

Fem!reader is kidnapped by the joker and his henchmen while just trying to get a moment's reprieve from her boring, soul-destroying job ✨️

Tw: I mean, we all saw TDK, right? I'd say this is on the same level/rating. Kidnapping, violence, mentions of minor characters (not J) being misogynist/threatening SA, reference to past traumatic injury. Beyond this i'm not sure, i'll update these when I write more.

🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏

I stared despairingly at the huge stack of paperwork my line manager had just slapped down on my desk. I sighed and bit the inside of my cheek. None of my male co-workers had to deal with her extra work. This was such bullshit.

"Ah, you are a life saver, (y/n). What would I do without you?"

Her own work, probably, I thought to myself, sighing in exasperation as she left me to my souless cubicle.

By the time i'd finished up, it was getting cold out. After taking a detour to try and stave off the inevitable return to my shitty apartment, I found myself in front of a particularly expensive shop. My feet were aching from the heels my backwards regional manager insisted on the female admin staff wearing and my head hurt from the tight bun my hair was scraped into. His smirk was etched into my brain, as were his vile words on his latest visit.

"You're a very attractive young lady, even with your face like that. Your body makes up for it."

I felt pure rage rising up again at the memory. It was the way he's said it as though he truly believed it was a compliment. The laughter of my coworkers rang in my ears. To them it was all a big joke and I was just too uptight to appreciate it.

What I wouldn't give to see the area manager humbled one day... but that was pure fantasy and I knew it. I wondered what he'd buy with his overinflated christmas bonus this time, while we were all given a meeting to explain why they couldn't justify a minor pay rise to ease the cost of living crisis in Gotham.

The twinkling lights of the high end window displays were a beautiful contrast to the bleary grey outside, and after another hellish day in the purgatory which was the cubicle farm, my heart warmed a little. Everything in the store was definitely well out of my meagre price range, but the inner child in me was drawn in to look at all the pretty evening dresses and jewellery. I shrugged to myself, figuring there's never any harm in window-shopping and a little indulgent fantasy. Even if I could afford any of the opulent dresses, half of them were really ball gowns, and what events was I ever invited to where you'd need a dress like that? No, those sort of parties were for Gotham's social elite - charity fundraisers, galas and that sort of thing, no doubt.

I was half expecting a staff member to immediately spot me in my regular civilian garb and herd me back out of the door like a stray dog but they seemed to be dealing with a particularly difficult customer at the tills. She was waving her arms around and pulling a "do you know who my husband is?".

I stifled a laugh at the image of her, in her ridiculous fur coat shouting frantically and looking like she was about to give herself a anyeurism, if the prominent vein on her forehead was anything to go by. I turned away from her soap operatics and back to the rails of clothes in front of me. I gently touched the fabrics, marvelling at the softness of the richest velvet. Gazing at cool silk like rippling water; nothing like the cheap imitation the rest of us were accustomed to. I got drawn into my own little world imagining who might wear each dress and for what occasion.

"Can I help you with something?"

The voice pulled out the rug on my little escape instantly. I felt anxiety rising in my chest but resolved not to panic completely.

"Oh, I was just browsing..." I said, faking the best dismissive tone I could.

"You're sure, I'd be more than happy to help. Do you want to try anything?" She pressed, a friendly tone rather than the suspicion I had anticipated.

Perhaps my work suit was giving a higher-end impression than I had realised... or maybe she was new here.

"This one is particularly lovely, don't you think?" She gestured to the garment I unknowingly had a hand on, pausing as she'd approached. She wasn't wrong, it was a rich purple, ridiculous really, with layers and layers of tule skirting, but somehow the fine cut and quality of the fabric, and the detailing made it look classy rather than like something out of 'my big fat gypsy wedding'.

When was I ever going to get the chance to try on a literal ball gown? I decided to play into it, after all, I could always say I needed to go away and review my options. They couldn't make me buy it.

"It is lovely," I murmured.

"Do you want to try it on?"

"If it isn't too much trouble..."

Before I knew it, I was being whisked into a dressing room. The shop girl came whirling in with the dress and began unfastening it for me.

"Shoe size?" She asked briskly.

I hurriedly blurted out my answer and she dashed back onto the floor.

I kicked off my uncomfortable work heels and removed my blazer, skirt and scarf. Somehow I felt even more like an imposter standing there in just my undergarments and a pair of tights. I hurriedly pulled the dress up and held it in place. Before I knew it, she'd returned and began fastening me up at the back.

I gasped, both from the air being pushed out of my lungs as she cinched the hidden corsetry, and in awe at what I saw in the mirror. I had never had particularly wonderful self-image, but since the accident, I'd really shrunk into the background. I had always been shy, but i'd become a total wallflower these days. I hated the public-facing parts of my job - if it was telephone or email correspondence, people couldn't react in their myriad shitty ways to my facial scarring, but sometimes I was on front desk duty. Those were the worst days for me.

She made a minor adjustment to my hair, pulling a few strands loose around my face. To my surprise, she hesitated as she saw my scars up close, but didn't recoil, or pull more hair out to try and hide them. Her delicate fingers lingered for a moment, hovering above where my eyebrow was split into three by the forks of red lightning which were still deeply scored into my skin. I had mostly made my peace with it, but it was other peoples' reactions to my face that caused me the most pain. The grimaces, the staring, looking startled, regarding me with pity, strangers asking me what happened, it could all just be too damn much some days. It was a rare a beautiful thing to have someone not react negatively in some way.

I knew I was lucky to still be in the land of the living, and that I was in remarkable shape considering what happened that day, but it had left an inescapable mark. I anxiously ran my fingers over my temple, over the metal plate holding my skull together somewhere beneath the skin. She pulled her own hand back away slowly.

"You look beautiful, miss," she smiled with a genuine warmth that made me begin to believe it. It seemed as though she could sense my sudden swell of insecurity.

The shop girl was young, couldn't be more than sevetneen or eighteen, and I prayed that she somehow retained her gentleness in a city as ugly as Gotham.

"Thank you," I said, tearing up a little.

The dress itself was surprisingly lightweight and not like some kind of Victorian horror complete with a hoop skirt. Instead, it looked quite modern, and had a lot of volume in the skirt due to the layers of tulle fabric, which meant that you could still dance with ease. I did a little twirl for good measure, watching how it flowed and moved around my form. The shop girl smiled at my childlike delight.

Unfortunately, my elation was shattered in an instant. A chorus of screams and panicked shouts, followed by a spray of gunfire hit us like a slap to the face. The shop girl's eyes widened in confusion and panic, and I grasped onto her arm to steady myself. We strained our ears, trying to make out what exactly was happening. My brain was struggling to make the jump from the moment I had just been experiencing to the very real danger we were now thrust into.

After a couple of agonising seconds, there was another round of shots, and I heard a gruff male voice shout;

"Everybody get down!"

"Try to stay calm," I whispered, my own voice shaking.

I herded us into the corner of the booth and desperately gestured for her to undo the corset, not wanting to have to run for my life in the stupid dress. I could hear crashing and footsteps, as though the place was being ransacked and bit the inside of my cheek as the girl shakily tried to loosen the cord for me.

"Check in the back, we don't want anyone calling the cops!" came a voice which sounded unsettlingly close by.

Suddenly, someone burst through the door into the dressing room. We froze, praying whoever it was, wouldn't round the corner, but sadly it was too late. The scraping metallic sound of the curtains of each booth being flung aside echoed around the room. I counted each one, feeling as though my heart had stopped beating altogether, sick with anticipation. They were going left to right, and would reach us soon enough.

The curtain to our booth was torn to the side, and an enormous man stood in the light. The shop girl let out a yelp of terror as she huddled behind me with her head in her hands.

"Found two hideaways!" He yelled out, lurching forward to grab at us.

In a blind panic, my body blocking him from the terrified girl behind me, I kicked and struck out like a feral street cat stuck in a trap.

"Quit struggling you stupid bitch," he spat, striking me across the face.

Dazed, and with my eye stinging already, I felt another pair of hands grasp me and hauled me out into the open and jammed the barrel of a gun into the small of my back.

"Stop causing trouble if you want to live," he hissed.

A third figure appeared and roughly forced the girl to her feet as well.

"This one looks so scared she might piss herself," he chuckled.

"Leave her the fuck alone," I muttered through gritted teeth.

"Ooo, you got a mouth on you, huh, rich girl?" Said the one holding me at gunpoint.

"Mm the boss ain't gonna like that, maybe we should gag her," one of his companions snorted.

"Nah, leave it. I wanna see what he does if she gives him any back talk," crowed the third one.

They marched us out onto the marble of the shop floor. Both shoes had come off the moment i'd started to struggle against our attackers and the tiling felt cold as ice beneath my unsteady feet. I saw that there were three other men holding up the cashiers and the handful of customers as they huddled together in one corner.

"Look what we found in the back," announced the biggest of the three men, shoving us forward.

It was only then that I noticed everyone's attention seemed to be drawn to one man, a man who I couldn't yet see, on account of him facing away from us as he nonchalantly rifled through the nearest rack of clothing.

He was a fairly tall man, perhaps a little over six feet, wearing a long coat. It was well in need of a wash, covered in dirt and ashy, yet still obviously purple in colour - though perhaps not the vibrant purple it once was. His hair could best be described as messy; a straggly mop of green waves, with his natural brown hair showing through at the roots and in patches. His body language was odd, the way he held himself, with his shoulders hunched, unsettled me.

As he turned around, to see what his henchmen had brought in, I felt a pang of total despair. I recognised his streaky painted face from a recent news broadcast, and I knew instantly that we were in deep trouble. This was the man they called 'the joker'. I could hear the poor shop girl sobbing behind me somewhere, barely hiding her sheer terror.

"Ah more guests for our little party," he exclaimed, his voice and intonation seeming as erratic as his physical movements.

"What you want us to do with them, boss?" Grunted the shorter goon to my left.

"Put them with the others," he gestured, stalking forward.

I turned to watch as he approached the shop girl, my heart in my throat.

"And who do we have here?" He asked, in a tone mimicking gentleness, which was even more unsettling than his usual, more sinister way of talking.

"S-sarah," she choked out between sobs.

"S-sarah? What's wrong s-sarah? Are you s-scared?" He cooed, practically circling her like a big cat.

I felt sick watching him toy with her, and anger began to rise in my chest. Sarah nodded defeatedly.

"Please don't hurt me," she whimpered, unable to look him in the eyes.

"Oh now why would you think we are gonna do that?" He exclaimed.

She didn't seem to know how to answer.

"Just do everything we ask, and some of you will live," he grinned patting her on the head, "put her with the rest," he gestured dramatically to the others in the corner.

His goons did as he asked and shifted her to where the others were cowering in the corner. I bit my tongue as his attention now shifted to me.

"My my, what a pretty dress, I love the colour," he purred, barely three strides away from me now.

I said nothing, hoping he would somehow just lose interest. There was still the largest goon stood beside me, pistol jammed into my lower spine so I didn't want to antagonise either of them.

He got close enough to reach out and touch me, pulling off one of his leather gloves with his teeth. The red painted smile, already smeared and smudged, left its mark on his finger tips with the clumsiness of his action. I was trying very hard to keep a steady breath, refusing to panic as I knew it would only worsen my situation.

"What's the matter? Are you shy?" He asked, that fake empathetic tone creeping in again.

"No, I just don't find that a hostage situation lends itself to free and easy conversation," I snapped back, unable to suppress my anger fully.

He tilted his head to the side, a glint in his dark brown eyes as they searched my face, scanning, analysing. In defiance, I stared right back.

In my struggle with his henchmen, my face had become half obscured by the hair which had come loose from my bun, and my hands being behind my back, I had not been able to move it out of the way.

Suddenly breaking his stillness, he reached inside his coat pocket and withdrew a knife. The switch blade swung open with a characteristic clack. I bit my tongue even harder to try and subdue my panic.

He reached out his ungloved hand to rougly grasp my face. Everything within me was screaming to struggle free, to run for the hills, but I was stuck. I'd be shot down before I made it two steps, I knew that.

"You are beautiful," he mused, " tell me, does this," he moved the knife barely an inch from my face, "does this, scare you?"

I grimaced, unable to stop myself from recoiling at his skin touching my own.

"Do you ever wonder what life is like for the ugly?" He asked, flatly.

Undeterred by my shrinking away from his touch, he roughly used his fingers to comb my fallen hair back away from my face. Once the curtain of hair was lifted, my scars were revealed, and his face took on a curious, unreadable riot of emotion for a split-second.

"What's the matter, am I not as beautiful as you thought?" I muttered sarcastically, wanting to pre-empt his inevitable mockery.

He clearly liked to pick people apart, to try and tap into their biggest fears, so it seemed a sure thing that he would have plenty to say about my face. This only made me all the more dumbfounded when he put away the knife and his grasp on my face melted into something altogether tender.

His fingertips gently brushed over the deep valleys of my old wounds as though he was trying to read my story. I felt him follow the fork from my hairline at my temple all the way down, bridging my eye, down my cheek to the point mid way along the lefthand side of my jaw where it ended. As he did so, I saw for the first time up close his own grisly scars which formed a sort of permanent smile. The makeup he applied over the top made it harder to see from afar just how extensive they were. I knew from my own experience that the wounds had been more than skin deep, into deep muscle tissue. You could tell by how raised and pitted they were.

The man holding me at gunpoint seemed not to have picked up on this sudden change of pace, as he had plenty to say, even if the joker didn't.

"I shoulda warned you, she's a butterface," he chuckled, "you should do the other side to match, I already made a start," he gestured to the split eyebrow and puffy eye he'd given me on my good side.

The joker's body language rapidly changed again. I felt him tense up, even in his fingers against my cheek. It was as though every fibre in his body was taught suddenly, like he was a rubber band about to snap. His eyes seemed to darken, his irises almost like black pools against the black paint encircling them. I was suddenly very afraid.

He looked down at my face with an air of detachement, his tongue flicking against the inner corner of his lip.

"Would you excuse me for a second, doll?" He grinned, before his smile dropped flat again the moment he straightened up to full height.

"Give me the gun," he comanded of his goon.

"But boss..." the burly man protested, before removing it from my back and reluctantly handing it over.

There was a deafening crack and the smell of gunpowder filled my nostrils as my ears rang. Some of the hostages cried out in fear and for a moment I thought he must have shot me. I stumbled on the stupid dress, falling to the floor with a crash, dazed, my ears still ringing as I rolled onto my side, preparing for my seemingly imminent death.

Unexpectedly, my vision began to clear and the ringing dimmed down enough that I could try to collect my thoughts. I became aware of another figure in front of me on the floor. Someone was roughly pulling me upwards, trying to get me back on my feet.

"Up you get!"

Suddenly, I managed to re-engage my muscles enough to stand, swaying on legs that felt like jelly.

"There you go, see? You're fine," came a low voice to my left, practically right into my ear. I blinked hard as I began to make sense of what had just happened.

The joker shifted so that he was stood in front of me again, and gripped a hand under my jaw so that he could look me in the face. He turned my somewhat vacant face this way and that, as though he was checking I was still in there.

"Whoops! Probably should've told you to stick your fingers in your ears," he wheezed with laughter, releasing my face and waving the gun around casually.

My lingering confusion was cleared up when I realised the other figure on the floor was his own man. The others looked on, some unfased, some clearly very uncomfortable at this sudden decision to remove him from the equation entirely. He had shot him point blank, I couldn't bring myself to believe that it was in reaction to his insults. Surely this was just some kind of mind game going far beyond my comprehension... I didn't feel reasurred, I definitely didn't feel flattered, if anything it just showed the true unpredictability of the psychopath in front of me.

"Right, now that minor... detour is over, I want you all to stay calm, while we execute out little plan," he comanded, gesturing to the hostages.

Two of his men forced grenades into peoples shaking hands, pulling the pins so that they were forced to hold on to them, or risk them detonating. They produced a roll of duct tape and wound it around each pair of hands, so there was no chance of them tossing the grenades away from the group either. The others continued to stuff duffle bags full with the cash from the registers, and the jewellery from the display cases. I cursed the slow response time of the GCPD, although there was never a gurantee that their arrival wouldn't cause more of a bloodbath, since so many of them liked to shoot first and ask questions later. They had far too lenient of a threshold for 'collateral damage'.

I was expecting to be forcibly handed my own grenade, but instead the joker gestured to me. The way in which he waved me over was completely antithetical to the situation unfolding around us; it was so casual, as though we were long-time friends. Not seeing another choice, I gingerly approached him, and he, losing patience, roughly grabbed me by the arm and yanked me closer to him.

"These lovely people can stay here, but, uh, you..." he lingered on the word looking me up and down, as he taped my hands together in front of my body, "you, are coming along for the ride".

"Why?!" Was all I managed to get out as he shoved me roughly toward the front of the store.

He laughed, sending a fresh chill down my spine.

"Well, we have an opening, consider yourself the newest member of our operation," he said in a congratulatory tone.

Before I could respond at all, my head reeling in total panic, I was being tugged out of the door with my arms feeling like they were going to pop out of the sockets.

[bloodurged]

I don’t care what the canon says, I’m a firm “reading trent’s book gave ted a panic attack, not one weak chuckle” supporter.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

a couple scribbles i cleaned up. also i think i like drawing him in varying states of distress

[sysig]

Softly, slowly, I want to love you anyway (Patreon)