#without losing anything personality-wise

[fanfoolishness]

Just losing my mind at the implications that the companions have all been trying to help Rook grieve Varric, and Rook doesn’t know

Emmrich, wise and long-familiar with grief, being told by Neve and Harding what happened; understanding why sometimes he overhears Rook’s muffled voice in the Infirmary, talking to no one. He takes Rook to the Memorial Gardens and mentions he talks to his parents, thinking Rook might be comfortable with the same. Rook lights candles and rings bells but Emmrich watches, sorrowed, to see Rook still seems in deep denial.

Neve takes Rook to the Wall of Light; a Shadow Dragon Rook knows just what this means but any Rook can understand the solemnity, the power of remembrance. Neve reenergizes Brom’s light and looks to Rook, hoping Rook will mention wanting to make one for Varric. Rook is kind and comforting to Neve, but Neve is lost in wondering why Rook doesn’t take the chance to open up. She can’t figure it. Maybe Rook just can’t face it, not yet. Maybe Rook does something privately. She isn’t sure but it nags at her.

Davrin’s not big on talking about feelings. He’d rather just move on. But he sees the way Rook seems a little hollow sometimes, a little distant; he sees how Rook takes so quickly to Assan. “Hey Rook,” he says, and invites them to come with him and Assan to safe places in Arlathan, where the woods are clean and green and growing, where real sunlight dapples through the trees. Rook always seems to love these outings, seems lighter afterwards. But Davrin feels a little confused in that Rook never seems to realize the outings are mostly for them.

Taash is another person not big on feelings. But they know how much feelings can twist you up and mess with your head. When Lace tells them about Varric they feel badly for Rook, and think to how they feel when they’re struggling. Epic fights, dragon fights, drinks with the Lords. Taash is perfectly capable of doing all that on their own. But maybe bringing Rook along will help get them out of their head a little bit. Does it help? Taash isn’t sure.

Bellara’s double-versed in grief after what happens to Cyrian. Rook helped her through trying to reach him, and Bellara wonders, in her own pain, if she can help Rook a little bit too. Especially if Rook is elven, teaching Rook about the braziers and the challenges is another tool she can share about her or their people, another way that might help Rook with their grief. Neve’s told her that the Wall of Light didn’t seem to help Rook much, but maybe a different funeral tradition could help them instead. Rook helps her light the braziers and Bellara feels her heart lightening, though she wonders at Rook, who seems more moved by Bellara’s reactions than anything else.

Lucanis is nearly as allergic to dealing with feelings as Davrin is, but he immediately clocks how Neve and Harding are acting, and asks what happened before he joined them. They tell him about Varric and that they’re worried about Rook, that Rook seems to just be shoving those feelings down without dealing with them. Lucanis is no stranger to that, but while it’s fine for him, he doesn’t want to see someone who risked their life to save him share that struggle. He brings Rook to Caterina’s funeral planning to show Rook it’s okay to admit the loss and honor it. When that doesn’t seem to make a dent, he falls back to his standard - lavish meals, small gifts, coffee. He knows it would help him. He just wishes it helped Rook too.

Lace hurts the worst after losing Varric and Lace is where Solas’ magic comes the closest to faltering. Rook can see Lace is down, she’s quiet, she’s afraid after what happens with the gods escaping; but Solas’ magic holds and Rook can still never see quite why. Lace would love to sit over drinks one night and share stories about Varric, but she sees that Rook doesn’t seem ready, and she doesn’t want to push. Instead she writes letters to Ma, to the Inquisitor, to Cassandra, to Aveline, maybe even to Hawke. She writes out her stories with Varric’s old quill and she carries a bolt of Bianca with her. A dozen times she goes to talk to Rook about him, and when she tries Rook turns away or changes the subject. It hurts, but Lace knows she can’t make Rook talk about him, and she hopes in time it will get better.

This just absolutely crushes me the more I think about it 😭

Edit: Varric’s death is Rook’s personal companion quest every other single companion tries to help them with, and can’t 😭😭😭

[kittsuneriyu]

For a while I really wanted to make my own designs for a "role swap" AU.

The idea is that characters change roles, not in between, they change sides but still have their own unique quirks to hunt or survive.

007n7 basically goes insane after losing both Noli and c00lkidd, turning back into his old hacker persona, he decides to make his sorrow into everyone's problem. 007n7's actions are way more destructive and reckless, with nothing else to lose, why should he fear getting hurt or punished? This mentality is what pushes him further into keep living to make hell break lose.

Elliot is still a worker on Builder Brother's Pizza's, the best as always. But sometimes you never felt like making some jerk pay for his actions? That's Elliot's mindset, using his freetime to hunt down anyone that dared to mistreat him or other employees. Having a twisted kind of satisfaction on making "justice" with his own hands. Of course, he would never let it affect the Pizzaria's service.

Chance is a thrill seeker, to achive it he always took the most risky choices. It lead him into involving himself with some shady people. Now working as some hitman, Chance uses this title to coerce his targets into gambling with him in change of their mercy. But somehow Chance always wins either way.

The rest of the survivors aren't as elaborated as those three.

Noob is just some generic killer, the kind that looks like an average person but later shows themselves as some maniac.

Guest 1337 as stated on the drawing works like Fliqpy, genuinely feeling guilty for hurting someone, his flight or fight reaction really blinds him when something triggers him.

Two Time achived a very high connection with the spawn after a bunch of sacrifice's. One life in change of a extra one, this allows them to insta-heal a deadly injury an keep going, of course it doesn't comes without consequences. Each scar and rebirth disfigure's Two Time's form further and further.

Builderman alongside Telamon started an iron fist moderation, punishing and banning anyone that broke rules or defied their ideals.

Builderman didn't changed much design wise, glasses to only focus on their ideals, headsets to not hear their pleas or opinions and a hardhat to protection of course.

Telamon never gave up on his hatred, some still spilled over his creation but most of it still with him.

Dusekkar never agreed with this nonsense, and the two Admins didn't took it lightly, now Duse doesn't mind that much, afterall he doesn't have a thinkng mind at all anymore.

Taph would do anything for builderman, so they hopped along with the two Admin's, Taph happened to mess up a few times but now that they got the message they're not going to fail Builderman anymore.

And of course we have our survivors.

"Poor kidd there's something about us people never really liked." Not sure about what happened to c00lkidd for him to disappear. Up to you I guess.

1x a vessel for the admin's experiment, nothing but that. And when falling purposeless they felt anger, a powerful need for revenge. 1x and 2x never happened to become sepparated entities.

John Doe a mere moderator, only wanting to ensure that robloxia's problems were solved, too good for his own sake. This was his ruin.

Noli since the start aspired that one day he would reach out the starts, but now that he has them in hands theres no one left to share their glimmer with.

Guest 666 was just some rebel, a trouble maker as people say. Unable to properly speak without an account, but also unnable to be properly punished. Not sure how his relation with Noob could go.

Azure was, alongside his partner, one out of the most faithful ones of their cult. This feat led him and Two Time into a huge sacrificial rabbit hole. After being killed Azure turned his back to anything related to spawn or cults in general.

[gilverrwrites]

Batguys when they have for the first time a vibrator put ON THEM (their dicks) by reader during sex ( they never experienced a toy on themselves before, it was always used on their girl if they were using toys).

AND I’m the same person that send the bat guys vibrators suggestion! What if the guys thought the vibrator was only for women and they’re proven other wise 😏😉

AN: I’m not convinced of them not knowing per se, so much as they’ve just never considered it for various reasons. So, in order of understood to least understood; Ft. Bruce, Dick, Jason, and Roy

Batman:

He knows full well the effects, he’s just hates to not be in control. So when you finally pin him down long enough to have your way, it’s because he lets you. When you teasingly glide the tip of your vibe along his length he purposely bucks his hips, urging you to use it on his sensitive tip, enjoying the whole commotion more than he thought he would.

The gloriously thick muscles of his thighs tense under his own self-restraint as you finally give him what wants.

“You’re taking it so well Brucie.” You coo and he glares at you from beneath his brow, trying and failing to maintain dominance but the rest of his body betrays him; his cheeks are tinted a precious shade of red, his broad chest heaving with each shallow breath.

When you praise him again; “You’re such a good boy.” He loses it completely.

Nightwing:

100% understands, but why would he ever want to use them on himself, when he could use them on you?

Then again, you’re so cute with those big puppy dog eyes, that mischievous grin when you ask to try something on him, how could he say no? And my god, he is a sight to behold. Even having seen the effect your bullet has on you, the way it makes you wither and moan uncontrollably, nothing could prepare him for his first experience.

He’s so loud, louder than you and just as unruly. His hands gripping tight to every surface, you, the headboard, the pillows, the mattress nothing satiates him. His long legs stretch, his toes curl, hips rolling and jerking for friction as his whole body shakes. Unable to muster the normal slew of filth he typically showers you with; he pants your name between obscenely breathless moans until he cums all over himself.

Side note: I swear, put this man in a vibrating cock ring, I need it.

Red Hood:

He’s just literally never thought about it before. One night you ask him to grab something from your bedside drawer and you’re surprised when he comes back holding your wand. When you ask if he wants to try it out, this is not what he expects.

Hell, if he’s not complaining though. Jason has never seen this kind of thing in action, so he’s lounging on the bed, legs spread wide as he leans against the headboard, not expecting too much.

When you tease the vibrating head along his shaft, causing it to twitch, he laughs and jokes about it tickling, but the moment you press it to the tip of his cock his whole body trembles.

“Ah, fuck baby.” He bites his lip, trying and failing to keep his eyes from rolling back. “Right there, right there, please don’t stop.”

Arsenal:

And if I may throw a wildcard in the mix;

Roy is exactly the kind of smart but dense kinda guy who could tinker away endlessly, making the perfect toys (out of equipment intended for weaponry might I add) to meet your needs, things meant to fill you in all the right spaces, to vibrate and pulse at the strength and speed that drives you wild, without it ever occurring to him that it could be used on him too.

He’s already hard as a rock and close to the edge after you’ve gone down on him, when you show him what you’re doing he lazily mumbles “Oh come on baby, that’s not gonna do anything.”

He’s proven almost immediately wrong. He’s lovingly cupping your face or holding your hair back but when he feels the vibrating sensation on his already sensitive cock his grip automatically tightened like a vice.

The skin from his cheeks to his belly growing hotter with each pulse until his body is just a few shades lighter than his hair, he’s sweating, eyes watering, begging for release and when you grant it he nearly tumbles over, legs weak and trembling.

[witchthewriter]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐀𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

a/n: thank you anon for requesting this one, I miss the hype!

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

・This relationship is a balance of pure chaos and serenity.

・Astarion brings the mischief, the flirtation, and the decadent indulgences. He thrives on teasing both you and Halsin...

・Halsin is the grounding presence.

・Calm, wise, and deeply affectionate. He counters Astarion’s sharp edges with quiet strength and welcoming warmth.

・And you, well you’re the anchor between them

・Sometimes siding with Astarion in his playful antics and other times melting into Halsin’s steady, nurturing embrace.

・Halsin, as the druid, is deeply in tune with nature, and his personality reflects that harmony.

・He is understanding, compassionate, and protective, with a natural inclination to support and nurture his partners.

・Both you and As know that you can go to him with anything. Halsin is amazing at giving advice. He's wise and forgiving, and the ultimate comforting force.

・Halsin would take you and Astarion on peaceful walks through the woods, showing you the wonders of the natural world. But, you know As just has to complain...about bugs or animals...and yet really, he does enjoy these walks.

・An activity all three of you love doing is reading together. You’d take turns reading passages aloud, each of you offering a different voice, tone, or interpretation.

・These intimate moments would be filled with warmth and understanding, with occasional giggles

・Halsin wakes up at dawn—he’s an early riser

・Astarion stays curled up in bed for as long as possible, pulling you back down when you try to get up.

・Astarion craves devotion; though he won't admit it. He needs reassurance that he’s wanted for more than just his beauty or usefulness.

・Halsin, ever perceptive, makes sure Astarion is cherished with slow, patient affection, something the vampire struggles to accept at first.

・Halsin’s love is vast; just like the wilds he worships. He enjoys physical touch, holding you and Astarion both as though you are his greatest treasures. His touch is healing, protective, and reverent.

・You become their shared sanctuary; a place where Astarion can be vulnerable without fear and where Halsin can express his devotion freely.

・With Halsin’s calming presence and Astarion’s intense passion, your emotional needs would be fully met from different angles

・Despite the differences in their personalities, Halsin and Astarion would share vulnerabilities that would deepen their bond with each other and with you.

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Soulmates Sometimes Come In Threes

"Shut Up” (You) x “Make Me” (Astarion) x “Just Kiss Already.” (Halsin)

Makes A Mess (You) x Cleans The Mess (Halsin) x Is A Mess (Astarion)

Moon (Astarion) x Eclipse (You) x Sun (Halsin)

Thinks He’s In Charge (Astarion) x Is Actually In Charge (You) x Knows He’s Not In Charge (Halsin)

𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆 in this order...

Enemies to Lovers

Slow Burn Romance

Forbidden Love

Found Family

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺��𝒏𝒈

Sex On Fire by the Midnite String Quartet

Goodnight Sweet Possums by John Powell

The River by Brian Tyler

Cherry by Lana Del Rey

To Bring You My Love by PJ Harvey

Me and the Devil by Soap&Skin

𝑁𝑆𝐹𝑊 🔞 No one under the age of 18 past this point, makes me feel weird if you read it.

・Astarion...well he loves building it up. He goes slow, teasing and pushing both you and Halsin to your limits.

・He thrives on making you beg...with his feather-light touch one moment and then overwhelming grasping and grabbing the next

・On the other hand, Halsin is raw - he's primal. He wants a connection; he needs to feel everything.

・Halsin needs to lose himself in the moment. With skin to skin complete contact, your sweat-slick bodies tangled together.

・Astarion owns the night with his sinful ways. Whispering dirty, teasing words until you're both desperate and at his mercy.

・And, Halsin owns the morning. With lazy, deep thrusts while you're warmed by the sun. His lips whisper sweet words of devotion.

・Astarion has a love for control. He pins you down, biting, leaving marks that only fade because of Halsin's magic. (This annoys As to no end).

・Halsin on the other hand is a force of nature. He lets As have his fun. Lets him play his games...but when he's ready to take over? No more games.

・And when Halsin finally takes control? Gods help Astarion. Pinned down, breath stolen, utterly undone.

・Halsin talks you through it, telling you how good you're doing. How pretty you look underneath him.

・Astarion is a little more mean; making you beg and plead for him.

[viperwhispered]

Notes on Jamil's speech patterns

I was supposed to just pick out some examples of typical Jamil lines. How he speaks, the vocabulary he uses, things like that. Something I could easily refer to when writing to get the tone right.

But then it kinda blew up, oop – because it’s hard to talk about how a character speaks without also dipping into why they say whatever they say.

Plus then I wanted to get examples of Jamil in different moods, and could not resist some poignant things that were more related to his character or backstory rather than strictly the speech patterns themselves, so… It expanded a bit.

Anyways. Some things I noticed he tends to do:

Sighs (more than I realized)

Snarks

Tch (though could be a more general twst writing choice too)

Stutters when he’s flustered / embarrassed / caught of guard (what a cutie)

Goes ahem like an old man when he’s trying to get back on track in those off-kilter moments

Kinda formal with his manner of speech and choice of words (especially in servant mode) (I always worry I exaggerate this but he sure does do that)

But there’s still some animatedness with the way he emphasises words, for example

(so long-suffering and ready to bark out directions to Kalim oh boy - the way the directness just comes through when he loses it)

sugarcoating his opinions if he doesn’t feel like he can say them plainly (tyrant becomes rigorous, etc.)

sarcasm, sometimes with a side of deadpan, sometimes with a smirk

“Good grief” (another thing I didn't realize was that much of a catchphrase)

Very mild on the level of insults & swears honestly, (I mean, "drat"?) but I imagine this is more of a result of the game's rating (I guess for in-game reasons we can say he's been very conditioned by his upbringing)

I put the screenshots that seemed telling, and some related notes, on to a google sheet. That way one can filter and order it in various ways.

The sheet is probably best viewed on a computer or another larger screen, the screenshots might make it a bit difficult to navigate on mobile.

I did go in with the assumption that Jamil might speak differently pre-overblot (when the servant mask is firmly in place) and post-overblot (at least those occasions where he allows himself to be more honest). Like, there’s the sycophantic (as Leona calls it) flatterer, versus when Jamil’s honestly voicing his own thoughts. Which also shows in how I chose to categorize the screenshots.

Of course events are a bit wibbly wobbly in relation to the main story so can’t be placed in the timeline in the same way, but there are still those occasions where it seems you can tell the difference between the servant mask and a Jamil who’s not saying things just for the sake of appearances.

So, to explain the logic of the sheet:

First column has a screenshot of something Jamil says. The second two columns give the source.

The column for whether or not this happened before or after the overblot is only really used for main story things, since event stories are kinda murky timeline-wise.

Next is whether Jamil seems to be putting on the servant mask or speaking more honestly. This is where get more to interpretation territory, and I’ve not applied it to every screenshot (either because that didn’t seem like the relevant part for that line, or because I couldn’t tell).

The last column of the sheet is where we get most to my personal interpretations. So of course you might read these lines differently than I do, and that’s completely fine, these are simply the aspects that seemed poignant to me. Some notes are simply pointing out specific word choices or style of speech, others delve more into character analysis side of things.

Totally fine if you want to copy this file or modify it to your own needs. All I ask is that you don’t pass off anything I wrote as your own thoughts.

Order of lines is based purely on the order the pics were in my screenshots folder, so guess this is also an insight on the order I played things in, lol.

Tagging some jamil peeps in case y'all find this useful:

@crystallizsch @diodellet @moonyasnow @twstgo @lex752

@majestickitty @viperbunnies

[astral-lucy]

your next partner (PAC)

hello beautiful creatures! i'm excited to be back with another pick-a-card reading. i've been feeling romantic lately, so here goes a reading regarding your next partner. hope you enjoy it!

as usual, pick the picture that you feel most connected or drawn towards (pile 1 - up and left / pile 2 - up and right / pile 3 - down and left / pile 4 - down and right)

happy reading!

#pile 1

wheel of fortune - eight of wands - knight of cups - six of swords - seven of coins

when i started to shuffle for this pile’s reading, “so high school” by taylor swift started playing, so maybe that means something to you. although this is a person i think you’ve known for a while, the wheel of fortune here shows a new stage of this relationship, and paired with the eight of wands this shows a period of excitement, passion - the typical honeymoon phase we all go through once we start a relationship. maybe you have been through a rough period emotionally, things haven’t been great for either one of you, and here comes a calmer time, you’ll have someone to rely on that’ll help you with all the love in the world. this relationship seems ideal, but there are a few cards here that advice making an effort to communicate correctly with each other. 

when i asked about the appearance of this person i got freckles! i also see that this person has a baby face or is a pretty childish person, someone with a lot of energy. i feel like they have lighter hair as well.  you can also expect this to happen literally at any moment now! this is something that is already happening and in the works. 

#pile 2

the hanged man - queen of cups - knight of cups - six of coins - nine of cups

“only love” by ben howard started playing when i started writing, and i feel like that’s how this connection feels like! this is someone new in your life, and your day to day will start to feel like this song. with the hanged man opening this reading i feel like this is someone who came in to change your perspective and opinions about love, and even about self love - but this card also tells you to be patient and advises not to rush into new relationships without being sure first, as not everyone will fit you. love is definitely on the horizon, just wait for it to come to you, as someone who is willing to listen to you and that will offer you all the attention you need is on the way. the six of pentacles here is asking you to give without expecting anything back, it advises you to be generous with yourself and the universe will be generous to you as well! a strong connection is coming 

when i asked about this person i got the five of coins, so this is probably someone who has gone through hard times and knows that feeling cared for is important. this is someone who has dark eyes, probably darker skinned as well. 

when i asked for timing, i saw that the winter time may be of significance, but this still may take a while to come to you. 

#pile 3

two of swords - ace of cups - six of coins - queen of swords - five of swords

wow, you may be indecisive regarding a relationship or taking a new step into a relationship, and you may be looking for advice. i think that this relationship has a great potential of being a safe space, somewhere you’ll feel loved and supported. you may be indecisive because you don’t want to lose your independence - but your partner understands how that is important to you and will respect it. there’s an emphasis on the important of communication, as you may have problems due to a lack of it, and what i see here is that you’re struggling to make things official because you’re afraid - talk to them! have the scary conversation. they understand. 

when i asked about appearance i got the emperor, which makes me think this is a person who has a lot of authority. i also think they’re someone with dark eyes but lighter hair. 

timing wise, regarding having a conversation or taking a new step, i’d say something will shift within the next ten days or the next two weeks. 

#pile 4

three of coins - three of wands - six of cups - king of coins - page of wands

i think someone you’ve had a crush on has looked your way! someone you’ve liked for a while is now noticing you in a romantic light, or maybe someone you tried to have a relationship with in the past is back. whoever this person is, they’re not 100% committed to you, they want to be your one and only. you may feel sparks, have a lot of passion and fun with this person, but you need to avoid being clingy or too jealous of this person, reminding you both how everyone needs space. the three of wands is an amazing card here, as it shows you good luck on your romantic choices. 

i think this person takes a great care of their appearance, especially their hair. 

i think this is going to become official in a few month, maybe around pisces season.

hope you enjoyed reading!

[dxrlingluv]

The Sea God

Pt. 2

A/N : I LOVE this request sooo much that I didn’t even noticed the length it has gone to. Uhhh have fun :3 Also if anyone wants a part two just comment! Poseidon art is from neil_illustrator! Thank you so much for requesting this ♒️🤍🤍.

WARNING : GN!Mortal!Modern!Reader, Poseidon is scary, Hermes lowkey became a babysitter, mentions of trauma, kidnapping, and violence. Not proofread.

Word Count : 3.8k

The world, in Y/N's experience, was varying shades of grey. Trust was a fragile commodity, easily shattered, and belief in anything beyond the tangible, the provable? That was a luxury Y/N couldn't afford. Past hurts had built walls around their heart, high and thick, but those walls had crumbled slightly for one person: Persephone.

They'd met Kore – as she'd introduced herself – in a quiet city park Y/N frequented to escape the noise. She had an aura of bewildered innocence mixed with a surprising depth. Y/N, usually wary, found themselves drawn to her gentle nature. They became unlikely friends, Y/N sharing cynical observations about the world, and Persephone offering surprisingly wise, sometimes oddly archaic, advice.

One late afternoon, strolling through a less savory part of town after visiting a small art gallery Persephone had wanted to see, trouble found them. A group of rough-looking men cornered them, leering at Persephone's otherworldly beauty.

"Well, well, what have we got here?" the leader sneered, stepping closer. "Lost, little flower?"

Persephone shrank back, her eyes wide. "Please, just let us pass."

"Oh, we'll let you pass," another chuckled darkly, reaching for her arm.

Something inside Y/N snapped. The low-simmering trauma, the ingrained need to protect the few good things left, ignited into cold fury. Before anyone could react, Y/N stepped directly between Persephone and the men.

"Touch her," Y/N's voice was dangerously low, devoid of its usual cautious tone, "and you'll lose your hand. Maybe more."

The leader scoffed. "Big words from... well, whatever you are. Get out of the way."

"No." Y/N didn't move, didn't even flinch as the man took another step. "You heard me. Back. Off. Now." There was a chilling certainty in their voice that made even the hardened thugs pause. When one tried to shove past, Y/N moved with unexpected speed, grabbing his wrist and twisting hard. A sickening crack echoed in the alley, followed by a howl of pain.

"I WARNED YOU!" Y/N yelled, eyes blazing with a ferocity that stunned everyone, including Persephone. The other men, seeing their companion clutching a broken arm and the sheer protective rage radiating from Y/N, scrambled away, dragging their injured friend with them.

Y/N stood trembling, the adrenaline slowly fading, leaving them shaky. Persephone gently touched their arm. "Y/N... you were incredible. Thank you."

"No one," Y/N said, voice still tight, "messes with you."

Persephone, back in the Underworld and occasionally visiting Olympus, couldn't stop talking about Y/N.

"—and then they just snapped his wrist! Like a dry twig!" she recounted excitedly to Hermes, who was lounging nearby. "Their eyes went completely cold, but fierce! You should have seen it, Hermes! Utterly devoted, absolutely fearless when protecting someone they care about."

"Another tale of the mighty mortal Y/N?" Hermes drawled, polishing his caduceus. "Honestly, Seph, you've told this story, or variations thereof, to nearly everyone. Father Zeus is intrigued, Aunt Hera is suspicious, Ares thinks they sound amusingly violent, and Uncle Poseidon... well, he just raised an eyebrow, which is high praise, I suppose."

"But they are amazing!" Persephone insisted. "So strong, so loyal, even though they don't believe in anything! They think we're all just stories!"

"Which, perhaps," came a deep voice. Hades emerged from the shadows, putting an arm around his wife. "Makes their loyalty even more potent. It is given freely, without hope of divine reward or fear of divine punishment." He looked thoughtful. "The others grow restless with your tales, my dear. Some are annoyed, some... deeply curious."

Y/N's next conscious thought was one of intense disorientation. The hard concrete of their apartment floor was replaced by... clouds? No, impossibly smooth, cool marble that seemed to gleam with internal light. Groggily, they pushed themselves up, head pounding. They weren't in their apartment. They weren't anywhere they recognized. Towering pillars soared towards a golden sky, intricate carvings depicting scenes Y/N's skeptical mind immediately dismissed as myth.

Panic began to set in. Kidnapped? Drugged? This was far too elaborate.

"Ah, you're awake! Excellent." A cheerful voice broke the silence.

Y/N spun around, instinctively falling into a defensive crouch. Standing there was a young man with winged sandals and a mischievous grin, leaning casually on a staff entwined with serpents.

"Who the hell are you? Where am I?" Y/N demanded, voice raspy. Their eyes darted around, assessing potential exits or weapons. Nothing but ridiculously ornate architecture.

"Temper, temper," the winged man tutted. "Relax! You're on Olympus. Big O? Home of the Gods? Ring any bells?" He gestured expansively. "I'm Hermes, by the way. Messenger, guide, currently assigned babysitter, apparently."

"Olympus," Y/N repeated flatly, disbelief warring with the impossible reality around them. "Right. And I suppose Zeus is about to pop out and zap me with a lightning bolt for jaywalking?" Sarcasm dripped from every word. This had to be a hallucination, a very weird dream.

"Well, Zeus is around, but lightning bolts are usually reserved for more serious offenses," Hermes chuckled. "Honestly, you're here because Persephone wouldn't stop singing your praises. Someone decided the best way to satisfy divine curiosity—or perhaps annoyance—was to just... bring you here."

"Bring me here? You mean kidnap me?" Y/N straightened up, fists clenching. The fear was being rapidly replaced by anger. "You can't just abduct people!"

"Technically," a new voice interjected, deep and resonant like the ocean depths, "we can do pretty much whatever we want."

Y/N turned. Leaning against a massive pillar, observing them with an unnerving calmness, was a man who radiated power. He had sea-green eyes that seemed to hold ancient storms, dark hair, and carried a large, ornate trident as casually as one might carry an umbrella. The air around him felt heavy, charged.

Y/N's skeptical mind screamed delusion, but the sheer presence of the man was undeniable. Still, defenses shot up higher than ever.

"And who are you supposed to be?" Y/N challenged, crossing their arms, trying to project confidence they didn't feel. "King Triton?"

Hermes winced slightly. "Uh, darling, maybe dial back the snark? This is—"

The man pushed off the pillar, taking a slow step towards them. He wasn't smiling. "I am Poseidon." He stated it simply, as if announcing the tide's turn. "God of the Seas, Earthquakes, Storms, Horses." He paused, his sea-green eyes fixed on Y/N. "And I believe you are the human Persephone finds so... compelling."

Despite the impossible situation, Y/N's ingrained skepticism and defiance kicked in. "Look, 'Poseidon'," Y/N said, making air quotes with their fingers, "and 'Hermes'," they gestured sharply at the winged messenger, "I don't know what kind of elaborate prank this is, or if I'm having a psychotic break, but I want to go home. Now. I don't believe in gods, I don't belong on... on 'Olympus'," the name felt ridiculous on their tongue, "and I certainly didn't ask to be abducted!"

Poseidon merely raised an eyebrow, a faint, almost imperceptible hint of amusement – or perhaps irritation – flickering in his ancient eyes. Hermes sighed dramatically.

"Oh dear," Hermes muttered, glancing between the fiercely defiant mortal and the immensely powerful sea god. "This is going to be even more complicated than I thought."

Y/N met Poseidon's gaze head-on, refusing to back down even as a primal part of their brain screamed about the danger. This was not how they expected their day to go, and they weren't about to be cowed, god or no god. "So, are you going to send me back, or do I have to find my own way off this ridiculous cloud?"

Poseidon's sea-green eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly at Y/N's defiant question and dismissive tone. The air, already feeling strangely charged to Y/N, grew heavier, thick with the scent of brine and ozone, like the air before a massive storm breaks over the ocean. It wasn't an overt threat, but it was a palpable shift in the atmosphere, a silent assertion of power.

"Find your own way?" Poseidon's voice was deceptively calm, yet it vibrated with an underlying power that seemed to echo off the impossibly high ceilings. "Mortal, you are on Olympus. There is no 'finding your way' off, unless we permit it. Even he," Poseidon flicked a glance towards Hermes, "cannot simply ferry souls from here without sanction."

Hermes nervously adjusted the strap of his messenger bag. "He's not wrong, darling. Bit of a one-way street for mortals, unless you get the official divine taxi service, which, ah, usually requires not insulting the management." He offered a weak smile. "Look, I get it. It's a lot. One minute you're probably, I don't know, microwaving leftover pizza, the next, bam! Hall of the Gods. But this isn't a prank."

"Isn't it?" Y/N shot back, turning their glare on Hermes. "Because kidnapping someone, dragging them to... to Cloud Cuckoo Land, and expecting them to just accept that guys with tridents and winged shoes are real? That sounds exactly like some twisted, elaborate prank." They turned back to Poseidon, refusing to be intimidated by the atmospheric pressure. "Or a hallucination brought on by bad plumbing fumes."

Poseidon took another step closer. He was taller than Y/N had first realized, built solid like a sea wall that had withstood millennia of crashing waves. He stopped barely an arm's length away, forcing Y/N to crane their neck slightly to maintain eye contact.

"You speak of belief," Poseidon said, his voice lower now, more intimate but no less powerful. "You stand before proof, yet you cling to disbelief like a shipwrecked sailor to driftwood. Is it bravery? Or merely stubborn foolishness?"

"It's called rationality," Y/N retorted, trying to ignore the way their heart hammered against their ribs. The sheer presence of this man... being... was overwhelming, but admitting that felt like surrender. "Show me something I can't explain away as a trick. Go on. Turn that fancy fork into a fish. Make it rain indoors. Do something other than loom and talk cryptically."

A flicker of something – annoyance, perhaps – crossed Poseidon's features. Hermes quickly stepped forward, placing a hand lightly on Y/N's shoulder. "Whoa there, sparky! Let's not go goading the Lord of the Seas into redecorating. Trust me, the cleanup is a nightmare."

Y/N shrugged off Hermes' hand, fueled by a mixture of terror and indignation. "Why not? If he's who he says he is, it should be easy, right? Unless you're both just part of some elaborate stage play." Deciding direct action was better than standing here arguing with delusions, Y/N tried to push past Poseidon, aiming for the vast archway behind him. "I'm leaving."

It was like running into solid rock. Y/N stumbled back, their shoulder aching from the impact. Poseidon hadn't moved a muscle, hadn't even seemed to brace himself. He just stood there, immovable, ancient power contained within a deceptively humanoid form.

Y/N stared, momentarily stunned. No human could be that dense, that immovable. The air still crackled. The scent of the sea was stronger now. Doubt, cold and unwelcome, began to seep through the cracks in their skepticism.

Poseidon looked down at them, his expression unreadable. "Leave?" he echoed, the word rumbling like distant thunder. "You mortals are always in such a rush. Rushing towards your brief lives, rushing towards your inevitable ends." He tilted his head slightly. "Persephone spoke of your loyalty. Your ferocity in defense of her. She failed to mention your... startling lack of self-preservation."

"Maybe I just don't like being kidnapped and patronized by mythological figures!" Y/N snapped, rubbing their shoulder, defiance flaring back up to mask the dawning, terrifying possibility that this was real.

"Enough," Poseidon stated. The word wasn't loud, but it cut through the air, silencing even Hermes' next attempt at placation. "You were brought here because your actions, your nature, intrigued beings far older and more powerful than you can comprehend. Whether you believe is irrelevant. You *are* here." He gestured slightly with his trident, not menacingly, but as an indication. "Hermes will see you settled somewhere less... public. We," he paused, his sea-green eyes locking with Y/N's again, "will speak later. When you have perhaps grasped the reality of your situation."

Hermes cleared his throat. "Right then! V.I.P. suite – well, okay, maybe more like 'confused mortal containment room, Olympian edition' – this way, darling! Try not to insult any more major deities on the way, please? My nerves can't take it." He gave a hesitant nudge. "Come on."

Y/N hesitated, glancing from the now impassive face of Poseidon back to Hermes' expectant one. Every instinct screamed to run, to fight, to deny. But the immovable presence of the Sea God, the sheer impossibility of the place... it was starting to wear them down. With a frustrated sigh that felt utterly inadequate for the situation, Y/N took a tentative step to follow Hermes, casting one last wary, resentful look back at the god who claimed dominion over the oceans. This was far from over.

Following Hermes felt surreal. Y/N walked with stiff posture, acutely aware of the towering presence of Poseidon fading behind them, though the lingering scent of salt and storm seemed to cling to the air. Every instinct still screamed trap, delusion, dream, but the throbbing ache in their shoulder where they'd collided with the unyielding god was a stubbornly physical counterargument.

Hermes led them away from the grand hall, down corridors that defied Euclidean geometry. Archways opened onto balconies overlooking landscapes that shifted like oil on water – one moment a nebula swirled below, the next a sun-drenched Grecian coastline impossibly far beneath them. Pillars carved with glowing runes pulsed softly, and occasionally, shimmering figures would glide past, offering Hermes casual nods before disappearing through solid walls.

"Try not to stare too much," Hermes advised cheerfully, noticing Y/N's wide eyes despite their attempt at a nonchalant facade. "Some folks around here are a bit shy. Others... well, others might take staring as an invitation, and trust me, you're not ready for that kind of divine attention yet."

Y/N swallowed hard, tearing their gaze away from a fountain where the water flowed upwards. "Right. Wouldn't want to accidentally challenge Apollo to a staring contest or get turned into a spider by Athena for looking sideways," they muttered, the sarcasm less biting now, edged with a dawning unease.

Hermes laughed. "Something like that! See? You're learning! Though Athena's more likely to challenge you to a quiz bowl first. Arachne was kind of a special case." He winked. "So, questions? Concerns? Burning desire to know where the bathrooms are? Because divine plumbing is a marvel, truly."

"I have a million questions," Y/N admitted, the words feeling heavy. "Like, why me? Why drag me up here over some hearsay from Persephone? And how are you planning on sending me back?"

"Okay, easy ones first," Hermes said, ticking points off on his fingers. "Why you? Because Persephone's assessment – fierce, loyal, protective, surprisingly strong mortal – piqued interest. Gods get bored, Y/N. Novelty is appealing. Plus, your whole 'I don't believe in you' schtick? Downright fascinating to beings who've been worshipped, feared, and mythologized for millennia."

He conveniently skipped the 'how to send you back' part and gestured towards an ornate door inlaid with mother-of-pearl. "As for why drag you up? Efficiency, mostly. Easier than arranging godly field trips down to... what was it? Your little grey box apartment?"

Y/N bristled at the description but didn't argue. The sheer absurdity, mingled with the undeniable reality surrounding them, was short-circuiting their usual argumentative responses.

Hermes pushed the door open. "And voilà! Your temporary accommodations. Olympian standard, mortal-compatible."

The room wasn't a cell, much to Y/N's surprise. It was spacious and airy, furnished with plush couches and strange, beautiful objects that seemed to hum with low energy. One wall was entirely absent, replaced by a shimmering barrier that looked out onto a swirling vortex of stars. There was no bed, just a large, inviting nest of impossibly soft-looking cushions in the center.

"Comfy, right?" Hermes beamed. "Nectar dispenser over there – careful, small doses only for mortals, seriously. Ambrosia is probably off-limits, sorry. Wardrobe should auto-tailor anything you need. And the... uh... facilities are through that archway." He pointed. "Self-cleaning, naturally."

Y/N walked slowly into the center of the room, running a hand over the strange, cool fabric of a cushion. They looked out at the starscape. It was terrifyingly beautiful. "So I'm just... supposed to stay here?"

"For now," Hermes confirmed, his tone becoming slightly more serious. He leaned against the doorframe. "Look, Y/N. You made quite the first impression. Standing up to Poseidon like that? Mortals usually dissolve into puddles of terror. Or try to offer sacrifices. Your approach was... different."

"He's just a person," Y/N said, but the words lacked conviction even to their own ears now. That immovable presence...

"No," Hermes corrected gently but firmly. "He's not. None of us are just 'people.' Remember that. Especially with him. Poseidon's moods are tied to the oceans – vast, deep, capable of tranquil beauty and catastrophic destruction. He was intrigued by your defiance, I think. Don't mistake that intrigue for softness." He pushed off the doorframe. "Try to... adjust. Get some rest if you can. Someone will be by eventually. Probably."

"Probably?" Y/N echoed, alarm flaring up again.

"Olympus time is flexible!" Hermes said with a wave. "Could be an hour, could be a day. Just... try not to break anything expensive. Or yourself." And with a final, blindingly fast smile, he zipped out, the ornate door clicking shut behind him, leaving Y/N utterly alone in a room that shouldn't exist, in a place that defied all logic, with the chilling weight of Poseidon's final promise hanging in the air: We will speak later.

Y/N sank onto the cushion-nest, the silence of the room pressing in. They stared out at the swirling cosmos beyond the barrier, the ache in their shoulder a dull throb. Skepticism warred with the undeniable evidence of their senses. Kidnapped by actual gods. Gods who were annoyed, or intrigued, by them. And one, the Lord of the Seas himself, intended to speak with them again. A shiver, completely unrelated to the room's temperature, traced its way down Y/N's spine. This wasn't a dream, and it definitely wasn't a prank. It was terrifyingly, impossibly real.

Silence. After Hermes’ rapid departure, the silence in the strange, star-view room was profound. Not the absence of noise Y/N was used to back on Earth, occasionally punctuated by traffic or neighbors, but a deep, humming quiet that felt ancient and vast, like the void outside the shimmering barrier.

Y/N remained huddled on the cushion-nest for what felt like a long time, simply staring out at the wheeling galaxies. The initial shock was slowly, terrifyingly, being replaced by a cold dread mixed with reluctant awe. It was real. The immovable god, the winged messenger, the impossible architecture, this room overlooking space – it was all horrifyingly real.

“Kore– well… Persephone,” Y/N thought, a wave of conflicting emotions washing over them – warmth for their friend, confusion, and a growing ember of resentment. “Did you know they’d do this? Did you tell them stories thinking it would lead to… abduction?” It seemed unlikely; Persephone, despite her strange wisdom, possessed a core of genuine sweetness. She probably thought she was just bragging about her cool, tough human friend. The thought brought little comfort.

Eventually, restlessness overcame the paralysis. Y/N stood up, legs stiff, and began to cautiously explore the room. They approached the shimmering barrier that served as a window. Tentatively, they reached out a hand. It stopped inches away, met by an invisible, yielding force, like pushing against dense water. It wasn't solid, but it was impassable. The starscape beyond seemed close enough to touch, nebulae swirling in colors Y/N had never imagined. Looking down, they saw nothingness – just an infinite, terrifying drop into the cosmos. They quickly stepped back.

Next, the wardrobe. It was just a smooth panel set into the wall. Y/N hesitated, then pressed it. The panel slid silently aside, revealing… nothing. Just an empty space. Confused, Y/N thought, “Clothes?” Instantly, garments materialized on hangers – simple, comfortable tunics and trousers in soft, earthy tones, vaguely Grecian but practical. Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Okay, less toga party, more… divine loungewear.” A flicker of their old sarcasm surfaced. They reached out and touched a tunic. The fabric felt impossibly soft, cool against their skin.

Curiosity overriding caution, Y/N approached the nectar dispenser Hermes had pointed out. It looked like a simple, elegant carafe filled with golden liquid. Remembering Hermes’ warning, Y/N poured only a tiny drop onto their fingertip and hesitantly tasted it.

An explosion of flavor unlike anything they’d ever experienced bloomed on their tongue – sunshine, honey, rain on warm earth, a hint of the sea – it was overwhelming, intoxicating, yet vanished in an instant, leaving only a pleasant warmth. No exploding, thankfully. But definitely not normal Earth-juice.

They paced the room, running through the encounters again. Hermes, annoying but seemingly not malicious. And Poseidon… The memory of his sea-green eyes, the sheer weight of his presence, the casual way he’d spoken of mortals rushing towards their ends… Y/N shivered again. He wasn't just powerful; he was ancient. What could a being like that possibly want with them? Intrigue? What did that even mean for a god? Was Y/N just a momentary distraction, like a human might watch an interesting bug before stepping on it?

“He said we’d speak later,” Y/N muttered aloud, the sound startlingly loud in the quiet room. “When I’d grasped the reality.” Well, reality was definitely grasping back now, hard. The question was, what would that conversation entail? Demands? Threats? Tests?

A soft chime echoed through the room, startling Y/N so badly they nearly jumped onto the cushion-nest. It wasn't the door. It sounded like it came from everywhere at once. Was that the signal? Were they coming back?

Y/N’s heart hammered. They instinctively straightened up, trying to gather the remnants of their composure, hands clenching and unclenching at their sides. They faced the door, bracing themselves. Whether it was Hermes with more confusing advice or the formidable Sea God himself, Y/N wasn’t sure which prospect was worse. The waiting, the uncertainty, was agony. The silence stretched again, marked only by the frantic beat of Y/N's own heart against their ribs. Any moment now…

[elumish]

In the wake of what's going on in the world, I see a lot of rhetoric that basically boils down to the idea that everyone has a responsibility to watch every bad thing that's going on in the world all the time. That awareness itself is a responsibility that everyone has always.

I'm not going to say that people do or don't have a responsibility to be aware of things, but I want to talk about how to take care of yourself and others while doing so.

For some context, I spent close to a year and a half reading about every terrorist attack in the world as part of my work on the Global Terrorism Database. It was 2015/2016, so this was the height of ISIS/Daesh, it was a major time for Boko Haram, and it was when there was a lot of political violence that we weren't sure how to classify in places like Yemen, Crimea, and Libya (stuff the GTD didn't know how to classify had all of is information recorded, and then it went into purgatory until someone above my paygrade decided what to do with it). What this means is that I was spending 10-20 hours a week reading about hundreds or thousands of attacks a month and, in my case, recording infomation about the type of attack and the type of weapon. Much of my life was reading terrible things.

Limit what you do in isolation. One of the worst changes for me during that time, mental health-wise (even though it was great for my commute) was when I went from working in-person to working remotely. With other people, there are ways to diffuse the pain. A burden shared is a burden halved and all that. That may mean talking about it, or joking about it, or finding some other way to engage with it that isn't just reading about the most horrible things in the world and then stewing in your own thoughts about them.

Find something to do that's totally unrelated. I highly recommend finding something to do with your hands, if you can (knitting, Lego, cooking, whatever), but regardless of what it is, you should have some time when you entirely switch away to something different. During a fair amount of my time with the GTD, I was also doing my undergrad thesis about terrorism on TV, so a huge amount of my life was about terrorism in some way. The only other thing I watched was Great British Bake Off, and I would just rewatch the episodes, over and over.

Be compassionate about how you share information and with whom. Use trigger warnings, and consider using consistent tagging on places like Tumblr so people can blacklist it if they need to. Also consider whether it's appropriate or necessary to share photos of bodies or other results of horrible violence. What is it accomplishing, to show that? Can that goal be accomplished other ways that don't require the equivalent of jumpscares of unexpected photos of dead or brutalized people? Are you just showing it because you think that everyone should have to see it? If you are showing it, are there ways to mitigate against harm it may do?

Do what you can to avoid an echo chamber. Sometimes, when everyone around you is upset or angry about the same thing, it just amplifies itself, and you all get angrier and more upset in perpetuity without accomplishing anything.

Work towards action. Watching terrible things happen for the sake of saying that you haven't looked away isn't as meaningful as taking action in some way. Write to your Congressperson. Donate. Do whatever is appropriate for the thing you want to stop. But penance via watching terrible things happen doesn't accomplish anything.

Recognize compassion fatigue and do what you can to mitigate it. If you spend long enough doing this, you start to lose context, and you start to become less able to have compassion about things. If you're reading about attacks with dozens or hundreds of deaths regularly, five can start to not seem like that many. If you're reading only about the worst suffering in the world, "lesser" suffering of those around you can start to seem unimportant and petty. Do what you can to mitigate that.

Be kind to yourself. You do nobody any good if you burn out. Look away, if you need to. Take a break. Do things so you can enjoy life, because otherwise you are just another person suffering in the world. Other people's pain isn't a hair shirt for you to wear.

[bucketgetter535]

This is not a cry for help (but it might be)

Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

CW: Swearing/Divorce

WC: 1788

Notes: basically Paige and Azzi meet at team USA camp in the middle of Paige’s dad and step mom divorcing. More about Paige than Pazzi and a bit ooc but this was a self indulgent one. Also I tried a little different writing style so… There might be a part 2 coming but lmk what yall think of this.

Paige was going to explode.

Not literally, but like… emotionally? Mentally? Soul-wise? Whatever. There wasn’t a better word for it. It was like her whole brain was trying to fold in on itself while she smiled at everyone and said “good game” and “nice shoes” and “oh my God I love your shot fake” like she wasn’t just barely keeping it together.

She was sitting on the floor of the dorm room, her back against the bed frame, chewing on the end of a charger cord that probably wasn’t meant to be chewed on. The little USA towel from her welcome bag was crumpled on her lap, and Azzi, of course, was already fully unpacked. Her socks were stacked. Her deodorant had a designated spot. She was that kind of person.

Meanwhile Paige had been wearing the same pair of shorts for what felt like three days, and her headphones were already missing.

Azzi stood at the dresser, folding a second hoodie like she worked at The Gap or something.

“I think we have a meeting at seven,” she said without turning around.

Paige kicked the bottom of the bed lightly with her heel. “Ugh.”

“That’s helpful.”

“No seriously, I ugh in solidarity.”

Azzi glanced back, hair in a loose bun, face still annoyingly clear and unbothered.

“Are you okay?”

That was the worst question in the world.

Paige smirked, fast. The default setting. She picked at the towel on her lap.

“Yeah, I’m great,” she said. “Living the dream. Wearing red, white, and blue. Getting yelled at by forty-seven different coaches. Sharing a room with someone who folds their socks like they’re on Shark Tank.”

Azzi just blinked at her. “You’re weird.”

“You’re organized. It’s upsetting.”

Azzi sat on the edge of the other bed, the one Paige had given her without a fight. The window bed. The one that got all the golden light in the morning. Paige hadn’t even thought about claiming it. She never did. Not when there were bigger things happening. Like a second parental divorce.

God.

It wasn’t even like she liked her step-mom. She was just… there. Always hovering. Always with that tight smile, like she knew Paige was one emotional outburst away from being “too much.” But this… this version of the split was way messier. Way louder. Her dad was saying things. Slamming cabinets. Crying.

Paige didn’t know how to deal with her dad crying. That was not in the player handbook.

“You didn’t eat dinner,” Azzi said quietly.

Paige leaned her head back and looked at the ceiling.

��You a cop?”

“I’m just saying.”

“I wasn’t hungry.”

“Yeah, but you’re, like, always hungry.”

Paige huffed. “Okay, chill.”

Azzi didn’t respond.

Silence stretched. Not awkward, just… loaded.

Paige hated how Azzi could sit in quiet and not fidget. Paige always needed to do something. Bounce a ball. Scroll. Tap her foot. Rip a napkin into tiny pieces. Her hands were always moving. Her brain too.

Azzi was like a still lake.

Paige was like a fire drill.

“You ever get tired of being good at everything?” Paige asked suddenly, flipping the towel inside out like it had wronged her.

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “I’m not good at everything.”

“Sure, sure. But like… you could at least pretend to struggle, just so the rest of us don’t feel like garbage.”

“I do struggle.”

“With what? Losing? Parallel parking? Not being a role model?”

Azzi narrowed her eyes. “Why are you like this?”

Paige smiled. “Like what?”

“Annoying.”

“Oh, that’s just how I flirt.”

Azzi actually laughed, then shook her head like she couldn’t believe she’d let it happen. Paige grinned wider.

The thing was… Azzi didn’t know. About anything. Not really. She didn’t know that Paige had left Minnesota with her dad calling her “selfish” one minute and “my little girl” the next. She didn’t know her step-mom had slammed a door so hard it cracked the frame. She didn’t know Paige had cried on the plane but like… in her head? Not real tears. Just that burning thing behind the eyes.

The worst part? Paige was still trying to be perfect. Still passing in drills. Still helping girls up. Still saying “nice shot” even when she wanted to scream.

And Azzi was just… Azzi. Chill. Steady. Like she hadn’t been dropped in the middle of a mental war zone. Paige wanted to shake her sometimes. Or poke her. Or hide one of her shoes just to see her react. She wanted to pull at something. To make her realer. Or maybe just messier.

Or maybe she just wanted to make sure she wasn’t the only one falling apart.

“I like your shot,” Paige said after a second, almost without thinking.

Azzi blinked. “Thanks?”

“It’s clean. Like, surgical. You don’t waste motion. I hate it.”

Azzi snorted. “So… you like it, but you hate it.”

“Exactly.”

“You’re exhausting.”

“And you,” Paige said, pointing at her with the corner of the towel, “are the human version of hotel breakfast.”

Azzi laughed again. “What does that even mean?”

“I don’t know. It just felt true.”

Another pause.

Azzi laid back on her bed, arms behind her head, and Paige watched her from the floor, eyes tracing the outline of the other girl’s profile.

Something about her made the world feel a little slower. Not fixed. Not better. Just slower. Like maybe Paige could breathe without feeling like it was a competition.

“Hey,” Paige said, quieter now. “If I do something really dumb at this camp—like, trip on a Gatorade bottle or break down mid-scrimmage—can you just, like… pretend it didn’t happen?”

Azzi didn’t open her eyes. “Yeah. Of course.”

“Cool.”

More silence.

Then, just before lights out:

“Hey, Azzi?”

“Mhm?”

“I’m not actually flirting with you.”

Azzi opened one eye, looked at her, and said, “I know.”

But she was smiling.

And Paige didn’t feel like exploding, just for a second.

–

It was 3:04 a.m. and Paige was sitting cross-legged on the desk chair in the dark like some kind of cryptid. Hoodie over her head, hood strings pulled tight, face lit only by her phone.

She wasn’t gonna cry. She wasn’t. That was, like, a rule. A Paige Rule. Crying was for when your team lost in the semifinals or when you got hit in the throat with a ball mid-layup and had to pretend you were just coughing. Crying wasn’t for phone calls from your dad.

It wasn’t even what he said. It was how he said it.

He sounded tired. Like bone-tired. Like something had drained out of him. Paige had heard yelling from him before, like, actual yelling, cabinet doors and whatever… but tonight was quiet. Too quiet. That’s what got her. That weird, slow quiet. Like he was underwater or maybe she was. Like he was trying to talk normal but it felt off, and she was too fifteen to know why it was making her feel nauseous.

He said something about needing space. From her step-mom. From everything. And then he asked if she was “doing okay out there.” Like that. Out there. Like she was on another planet.

She told him yeah. Said she was good. Said the gym was nice and the food was fine and her roommate was chill (which, okay, was half-true; Azzi was not unchill, she was just… Azzi).

But now she was here. Awake. Texting her mom.

Paige: hey

Paige: u up

Paige: jk ur in mt time

Paige: but

Paige: can i ask u something or

Paige: nvm

Paige: sry

She stared at the screen. Hated how her thumb hovered, like she didn’t know how to be a human being.

A response came in three minutes later. Her mom always answered weirdly fast for someone who lived in middle-of-nowhere Montana and claimed to be “off-grid.”

Mom: ask me anything, paige

Her chest felt like it cracked open just reading it. Like someone hit her with a slow-motion punch.

Paige: do u think it’s bad that i’m kinda glad i’m not home right now?

There it was. A raw, ugly truth. She hit send before she could backspace it into something prettier.

The reply came after a beat.

Mom: no. that’s human.

Mom: it doesn’t mean you don’t love them.

Mom: you’re fifteen. it’s not your job to fix everything.

She stared at that for a long time. Her eyes prickled and she blinked really fast like she could blink away the fact that it was actually comforting.

She set the phone down, didn’t answer again. Just pulled her knees up to her chest and leaned into them.

Somewhere across the room, Azzi’s bed rustled.

Paige froze.

“Paige?”

No. Nope. No thank you.

“Yeah?” she croaked, hating how raw her voice sounded.

Azzi sat up. She didn’t turn the light on, which Paige appreciated, but still. She was awake now. And awake Azzi meant questions.

“You good?”

God. That question. Again. Like the world was a loop and someone forgot to press skip.

“Yeah,” Paige said automatically, even though her chest was still tight. “Just couldn’t sleep.”

Azzi didn’t answer right away. Paige could see her silhouette, backlit by the streetlight glow through the curtain.

“You sure?” Azzi asked again, quieter this time.

And that was worse. Like, infinitely worse. Because now it wasn’t just words. It was care. It was gentleness. And Paige didn’t know what to do with gentleness at 3 a.m. She didn’t know what to do with it at all.

She picked up her phone again. “Y’all really gotta come up with a new question,” she muttered. “It’s getting old.”

Azzi didn’t rise to the bait. Just said, “Okay,” and lay back down.

Just “okay.”

No pressure. No pushing.

And for some reason, that made Paige feel even worse. Or maybe better. Or both. Which didn’t make sense but also felt so real.

She turned her phone face-down, hugged her legs tighter, and rested her chin on her knee.

Drew was probably asleep. He was little. Little kids didn’t remember divorces, right? Not like she remembered the first one. She was three back then, but she remembered. Not exact things, but vibes. Tension. Faces. The way adults said one thing but meant another.

She didn’t want that for Drew.

She didn’t want this version of her dad either.

She didn’t want any of this.

But she couldn’t say that. Not out loud. Not even to Azzi, who was, like, a weirdly safe presence. Like an emotional weighted blanket with a jumper.

She exhaled. Rubbed her eyes.

3:27 a.m.

Maybe she’d sleep. Maybe she wouldn’t. But at least she wasn’t yelling. At least nobody here was slamming doors.

At least for now.

[erinwantstowrite]

THE CIRCLE MYSTERY!!!

in case you're unfamiliar with my page, here is some context for this post:

a few months ago, i wanted to try my hand at a mystery plot, and began looking for a circle mystery plot diagram that i had written down a year or so prior... but i couldn't find it. i SWORE i had it somewhere. i knew that i had left the notebook on my shelf along with all my other notebooks. it was a little black journal that i didn't use very often, but it still had some important notes inside. but it wasn't there on my shelf, or any other shelf in the house. it was like it had vanished, and i started to doubt my memory.

i figured not all was lost. sure, the journal was gone, but someone would be able to help me find this circle diagram.

NO.

no one could figure out what the hell i was talking about, not without lack of trying. many tried to help me, to figure out this mystery with me. "the circle went outwards" i said, but all i could find was the rotating clockwise circle plot diagram that was not mystery specific.

no matter what i did, i couldn't find the original source online. i phrased it in many different ways, but it was a dead end. with no journal, no online source, and no one understanding what i was talking about, the circle mystery formula... remained a mystery. many concluded that i likely made this circle diagram myself and then forgot about it entirely, but that's up in the air.

well, a couple weeks ago, i found the circle mystery plot i was looking for.

it was not the actual physical note, but a picture i had taken before seemingly losing the notebook/journal that it was in. it showed only the circle diagram with a couple of minimal notes on the sides. i have yet to find that journal, it remains missing to this day. one day i might find the physical copy with the notes that were underneath it but alas, at this point in time, i only had the circle to work off of.

but it was enough!!! just having the circle was enough for me to make this beauty, of who i will share with you now:

as you can see, it's not all that complicated. it breaks down only a few simple key elements of figuring out a mystery, not plot wise, but investigation wise. "crime and victim, motive, method, opportunity, and suspects." CVM and MOS is what i call that for short but that might be lame

basically, it's the 5 w's.

that's it.

this whole time, it was the 5 w's "Who, What, Where, When, and Why" (except with terms that would be used in an actual investigation), laid out into a diagram that extends outwards where you put your points on the circle rings to connect. this could also easily be a venn diagram, but i remember liking that it extended outwards and was in a line rather than in groupings.

it's extremely simple, too, so it's been annoying me that i could forget it when i needed it most. that being said, it's in the past, now, and it's here, and now i want to talk about the points

CVM and MOS

crime and victim. this is always where you start.

look, you might start your plot right in the thick of it with a suspect having already been revealed and the entire plot is that your character has to prove why and how they did it. but it's up to you, the writer, to explain how they got to this point. which means you need to know how it works in the original order before being able to write this plot that way.

a crime has been committed- what crime? murder? robbery? this is your first question, or statement. what i mean by that is are you telling your readers "This has happened." or is the plot/character/reader asking "What happened?"

and victim- who was it that was affected? if it's a murder, you have to identify the person that was killed before you can get into anything. if it's another crime like a robbery, then what was stolen? this is the phase where your investigator goes looking into the details of the victim. which means you need to know your victim.

your investigator and you are on the same side here. both of you need to know their daily ins and outs, you need to have character witnesses from friends and family, you need to get a glimpse into who they were when it was just them around. maybe a diary or look at their bedroom to give a statement as to how they were feeling and how they occupied the space they were in. maybe online records, because their activity can give you pieces of the puzzle. even if this is not completely revealed to readers (though in my opinion, this part is very needed in order to have your reader feel for the victim), you as the author need to have that mindset. you need to know who they were and what their life was like even if your investigator never gets around to knowing this.

because it leads directly into your suspect pool.

mystery plots are all about the connections, the drama, the details. your victim is dead, and your investigator is looking into their lives. you could, honestly, play it really well with the victim and the investigator being the main focus. a good example of this is that one episode of Bones where Temperance Brennan is listening to the voice recordings of a murdered woman she starts to see a lot of herself in. Brennan is seeing the bones of this woman and trying to find out what happened to her with all that is left, and she's also listening to her voice, and we don't see a lot of the suspect in this case (for good reason).

((honestly, this might just be me saying you should go watch Bones.))

but, in most cases, your suspects are the main source of entertainment. so you need to know your victim, and by extension, know your suspects.

all of your potential murderers (or whatever plot you're writing) go on the outside ring not because they are last in your investigation, but because you would work inside the suspect pool. kind of a visual aspect to show they're connected to the center, which is your crime/victim (which, again, could be changed for a different type of mystery. this section is just the Big Reason for the mystery to get started. or the Big Question.)

you get your suspects through the character reveal phase of your mystery, though they can also be revealed because of the setting. like in Clue, or in that new show, The Residence (go watch it), where a murder has happened in a house where only a select few people could have done it.

who are the people that had bad blood with this person? who are the ones that have something to gain from that person's death? or, even, who are the people that just wanted to do it?

motive.

if you want your mystery to be solved, you have to have a motive. a reason as to why this happened, even if it was a fit of unplanned rage. this part is crucial not just from an entertainment standpoint in your story, but for later on in a prosecution phase in real life. a jury might find it hard to convict someone if a prosecutor can't give a motive for why they'd do it. in this case, you are the prosecutor and your readers are the jury. if you want your reader to believe that this person could have done it, you have to give a motive.

but it's not the most important part. the most important is the how.

the method of the crime tells a lot about the person that did it. take a look at Criminal Minds, and how they make a profile for the killers. granted, they have more to work with because there are multiple murders. but you can get a basic idea with just the one.

from an investigative standpoint, you have to figure out how something happened to get a clue into the character of the murderer. which of your suspects has the ability not to get sick at the sight of blood? which suspect is smart enough to plan it out? which suspect would have the temper to grab the nearest heavy object as their weapon?

so you look at your crime, you get an idea of the method, and you can eye your suspect pool to match who is the most likely to commit in this way.

and last, opportunity.

this is where an alibi comes in. "I couldn't have done it because I was at my son's birthday party! ask anyone!" sounds pretty good. until you find out the suspect mysteriously was in the bathroom at that party for a couple of hours and came back wearing different clothes.

your suspects have to have the opportunity, or they have to have the alibi. were they there around the time? do they have a key to the house? do they know that the window on the first floor never locks? did they have the time to do it? even if they have something that looked like an opportunity, they might have an alibi.

from there, it's all about putting down your dots. which character has the motive, could pull off the method, and had the opportunity?

however... you could have multiple characters hit the MMO. what happens then?

you could drill these characters in an interrogation (could or could not be in an actual interrogation setting) and get a confession out of one of them, OR you could have your characters go looking for that sweet, sweet key evidence that cinches it all together and ties one of the suspects to the crime. or, maybe in a plot twist, ties both suspects to have committed the crime together.

(in real life, though, having a confession and key evidence is for the best. it makes it hard for a defense team)

this is your standing out point, and would definitely be your last big crescendo for the story. this episode of Brooklynn 99 is honestly the best example (in fiction) i could come up with right now for an interrogation where you get a confession out of someone. oh, and legally blonde! can't forget elle wood's breakthough (if you haven't watched legally blonde and you click that link and get yourself spoiled instead of sitting down and watching the whole thing, i am frowning at you in disappointment right now. shaking my head and everything).

when it comes to both evidence and interrogation... go watch The Residence (Netflix... or pirate). the last episode is brilliant and it's well worth the watch. Detective Cupp was so much fun and it sucks more people aren't talking about it.

i think i should stop yapping now, because that about covers what i came here to write. hopefully this stupid circle helps somebody out

[booliuu]

┊͙Proxies headcanons pt.1┊͙

ꪆৎ 𝙰/𝙽 : heeeey guys it’s liu!! it’s been awhile since i last posted ( …well i think?) 😣😣 i literally can’t remember anything . this isn’t requested but i’ve these headcanons stuck in my drafts for quite some time now and i figured i’ll post them now :DD !! possibly a part 2?

• my inbox is open for asks & requests!! if you like my content don’t forget to like , comment , & reblog❤️. enjoy reading!

Tim (masky):

🚬. . he’s pushing through his late 30’s at best.

🚬. . 5’11.

🚬. . a firm believer he’s a taurus.

🚬. . has native american roots.

🚬. . personality wise .. he’s a bit of a prick and an asshole just to give it to you straight . he will butt heads , he will command orders because technically speaking he’s the leader without saying much, basically has a strict & rough exterior . but with the shit he’s been through.. i don’t blame him. it would be a while once he likes & trusts you….but you’ll know. very few ppl get that side of him.

🚬. . dog person!! wants a dog sooo bad he knows he can’t take care of it unless someone wants to take care it while he’s away from the cabin. he’s ( and everybody else tbh..) out sometimes days or more so he ain’t risking it.

🚬. . whenever he sees stray dogs in the woods doesn’t matter what kind of dog man… he’ll pet it . if he has food in hand will give some to em’.

🚬. . if he keeps seeing the same dog(s) everyday when he’s walking around the woods , will give them a name for sure.

🚬. . definitely has HUNDREDS of pairs of bottom up plaid shirts. in hangers. in one small closet. Not just red like he wears all the time in mh. owns at least yellow , blue , black plaid shirts . rarely ever uses them though lol.

🚬. . smokes like a chimney holy crap. especially whenever he’s uncomfortable or stressed , at least smoke half a packet .. just an excuse not to talk about it.

🚬. . smells like the woods, cigarettes, or cheap shampoo and conditioner. (like old spice, irish spring , ect…)

🚬. . likes his coffee plain black. no questions asked. won’t add any creamer or sugar. just likes it the way it is.

🚬. . he’s probably rlly good at cooking like will cook up some good old eggs, beacon and sausage if he feels like it.

🚬. . snores like SO LOUD OH MY GOODNESS. second would be toby. holy moly. god forbid if there in the same room or your stuck sitting in the same car as them , you ain’t getting a wink of shut eye :( .

🚬. . coughs , coughs, … COUGHS especially whenever he’s running. it’s impossible for him to stay quiet bc of his smoking habits . has to take a break for a bit , lean against a tree and cough his lungs out.. then starts running again.

🚬. . i’ll die on this hill BUT IM SURE he does the old man groan whenever he’s bending down for too long. or putting a hand on his back , bend back a bit and groan hella loud .

🚬. . old man eye squint whenever he reads. for example reading something on his phone and has to reallyyy squint and puts that phone away from his face. YKWIM😭😭??

🚬. . acts like he hates toby but in reality cares so much for him. just can’t bring himself to say it to him bc he’s so stubborn . likes kate because she listens to him without complaining during missions, and gets the job done . same with brian. and TOBY GETS SO M A D .

🚬. . dad BOD. C’MON YALL. and not to mention sideburns.

🚬. .listens to divorce dad music that he’s plays all the time in his car.

🚬. . his natural body temp is so WARM. he’s like a human heater.

🚬. . knows so much dad jokes it’s borderline concerning🥹🥹. but hey… at least it never fails to make someone smile or laugh though.

🚬. . has a mf’ing lighter collection because he keeps losing them . has stacks of cigarettes hidden somewhere around the room that he shares with brian.

🚬. . i just wanna get this out of the way but definitely the type to txt’s like a dad😭😭. you can’t tell me otherwise. i’m talking “👍.” , “ Ok.” “ 8:30 pm ETA.”

Brian (hoody):

💊. . same age as tim just a biiit🤏 older.

💊. . couple inches tall than tim and whenever ppl point out it out, it rails up tim so much.

💊. . HE has to be A LIBRA. DO YOU GUYS SEE MY VISION. PLS.

💊. . smells like gun powder , the woods ofc , cheap shampoo and conditioner, may i also add cheap cologne.

💊. . i have a feeling he grew up with A LOT of sisters in his family . so when he was born everybody was relieved lowkey lol but won’t say anything , just like a sigh of relief yk?

💊. . white af. idk what to tell you😭. you guys give me ideas .

💊. . txt’s ppl about the same as tim. worse though bc he tends to ignore them unless it’s the other proxies . doesn’t mean he’s dry af though.

💊. . owns so MANY hoodies. but just chooses to just wear the yellow one all the time.

💊. . has a tooth gap…! we can’t forget about that!

💊. . he’s a chill guy but prefers to stay quiet and listen kinda type. especially when he’s working .. yeeeah he ain’t speaking. just gets the job done and leaves.

💊. . knows how to fish. catches em’ and cooks em’. don’t ask why he just gives me the vibe yk?

💊. . aside from that, he can’t cook for shit so he makes tim do it. prefers tim’s cooking anyway-

💊. . has a guns & bullets collection of different kinds in his closet . and a couple of lighters laying around tim & his room. or whenever he’s out and tim forgets his, he got em.

💊. . has the PRETTIEST SMILES AND LAUGH TELL ME IM WRONG. also his laugh is pretty contagious lol. snorts and giggles. can get other ppl to laugh without even knowing what he’s talking about.

💊. . natural charmer ✨knows how to flirt without even trying and (or) thinking. knows how to twist ppl little brains and turn it into mush.

💊. . likes his coffee black as well.

����. . quietest sleeper known to mankind. couple of times tim, toby or kate though he was dead.

💊. . like arms and hands at his sides and he’s just… y’know just laying there.

Tim: * getting really nervous bc brian isn’t moving nor making a single sound & decides to slap his arm to wake him up * “ you know you sleep like a dead soilder..?!!”

Brian: * jointing awake suddenly by tim* “huh?? “

Toby:

➯ in my au, tim, brian , toby and kate all stay in one cabin. it’s a bit crapped but they all make it work out at the end of the day.

➯ anyway…….*sighs dreamily * my boyyyy😫😫💗💗💗💗!!! he’s BEEN rattling in my brain 24/7 but tbh who don’t think bout this cutie patooie all the time living rent free in my head wthhh. 😭😭😭🥹🥹 i can talk about this silly goober all day if i could bro. okok anyways -

🪓. . i wrote a few toby headcanons here b4 :]] ( 1# link & 2# link check em’ out!! ) ima add some more headcanons to the list. you can’t stop me >:DD!!!

🪓. . there’s 3 rooms total in the cabin and the last room is toby’s . the other rooms belongs to kate , tim & brain .

🪓. .plays “his” playlist on his speakers that ofc he stolen full volume . owns some video games and consoles such as a switch & ds . has a mini fridge hidden in his room bc he’s tired of ppl stealing his crap.

🪓. . bisexual. leeeans strooongly💪💪 towards women..!! personality over looks!! man does not care. but that doesn’t stop him from thinking men are handsome and cute!! if your asking me though, it’ll take awhile for him to date a guy let alone trust bc his lore .. his father yk?

🪓. . he likes hanging out on top of lamp posts at the side of the roads or chillin on the highest branch in the trees because those are the only places that are quiet for him and away from ppl.

🪓. . can’t decide if he’s dog or cat person. HE’S SUCH A HUGE ANIMAL LOVER AND WILL HONESTLY PET EVERY SINGLE ANIMAL IF HE COULD.

🪓. . he’s definitely the kinda person to order coffee that has MILLIONS of different creamer , syrups & toppings . can’t stand the bitter taste of coffee lol.

🪓. . speaking of coffee, since he’s around tim and brian all the time, he developed a burning hatred for black coffee😭. doesn’t understand why tim and brian love it so much.

🪓. . he rarely goes out in public places because he gets overwhelmed easily but in the rare occasions he does , can’t stand when men yell at women. like really detest it. has the urge to protect the them even though he doesn’t know the person. doesn’t do anything but just watches from afar. but that doesn’t stop of thinking violent thoughts what he wants to do to that guy.

➯ if it’s really brother him though , will perhaps pay the guy a quick visit.. if you catch my drift..🪓🪓.

🪓. . it brings him flashbacks of when his dad yells at his sister and mother.

🪓. . gets high because it calms down his tics. or whenever he’s feeling stressed, upset he’ll smoke.

🪓. . he remembers some what of his past. but it’s very very very little. remembers his mother and sister but it’s very distorted. remembers everything but there faces. when someone says his mothers and sister names he confused why he feels like he knows them but at the same time doesn’t . poor baby:(

🪓. . haunted by his bullies and his fathers voices tormenting him in his dreams. he’s confused by them and thinks the operator is playing tricks on him.

🪓. . he’s not a bad driver. like i said before he doesn’t remember his past. pretty much knows the rules of the road and practiced safe driving etiquette.

🪓. . since he’s older, his tics aren’t as bad. doesn’t mean they fully goes away. nope. doesn’t work like that. it’s a part of him and will always will be.

🪓. . the way i think it’s more like it has it’s moments.. you feel me chat? such as whenever he’s feeling anxious , angry or stressed. he slurs his words, talks faster or repeats the same words or sentences, muscle twitches … and so forth.

🪓. . can’t stand the smell or taste of alcohol but .. if someone gave him one , he will drink it just because he doesn’t want to be called out a wuss.

🪓. . oh my gosh when he txt’s he either doesn’t respond, forgets you send something, or SPAMS THE SHIT OUT OF YOUR PHONE accidentally breaking it 😭. adds millions of emojis . sends links to insta reels or tiktok’s that he thinks you’ll laugh at .

you: sending toby a tiktok* 10:45 pm *read 10:50 pm.

toby: *UUSSS!! * 6:30 am😭. toby oh my god

.. also toby: * sends you the most cryptic terrifying insta reel you ever seen* that’s you 😝😝😝🫵.

you: YOU PMOOOO‼️‼️🖕🖕🖕

🪓. . i can talk about this man forever. 🫶🏼

Kate:

➯ KATE MY BELOVED!!!! i love her so much💗. she so underrated plsss she needs more love and attention 😭😭😣 guys lemme talk about myyy girl rq.

🖤. . she’s the youngest out of the proxies. she around her late teens or early 20’s. she’s a cancer!! ( june 25th!!)

🖤. . tall af, she either standing at something between 5’10 or inching closer to 6’0.

🖤. . Korean!!! or has asian roots.

🖤. . definitely has her ears pierced and lips done .🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

🖤. . cooks the crew sometimes what she remembers eating before shit went down hill. and they love it every time.

🖤. . tea person! loves black or earl gray. she has a bit of a sweet tooth so she’ll add some honey, creamer & milk and syrups .^^

🖤. . owns really GOOD smelling shampoo and conditioner 😭😭. and to add with that, her hair is super long and grows out super fast so she’s constantly cutting it. its so uneven helppp

🖤. . she’s naturally very awkward and quiet. lowkey giving black cat energy.

🖤. . like brian she’s also the type of person to listen to you yap about anything than talk.

🖤. . txt’s like she doesn’t care. sooo nonchalant help 😭😭. perhaps worse than brian🤔🤔🤫. ONE WORD RESPONSE EACH TIME. WITHOUT OF DOUBT.

🖤. . closeted lesbian. doesn’t have time to date or fall in love because she’s busy with her “job” ifykyk. prob only work out if your a proxy as well. can’t risk anyone else getting hurt bc of her or the operator. she lost enough :( .

🖤. . this could just be me but ima just say back during her high school years she join her schools track and field club. and literally always get the best times. best runner at her school.

🖤. . dis GIRLLL… can run SO MANY laps and she never gets tired holy crap. runs faster than the other proxies , second would be toby lol. when they have free time, they consistently race each other around the woods and would make tim or brian set up a timer to see who gets the best time.

🖤. . i don’t CAARRE what anyone says but, her and toby have a sibling👏dynamic going on. so competitive with each other!! it’s very precious. they always lookout for each other during missions. even when there not working , they argue like siblings, say some shitty stuff to each other but at the end of the day they care about each other in there own way.

➯ this a bit off topic but yk how toby lost his sister at a young age. messed him up quite a bit because Lyra was the only person aside from his mom that was truly kind to him. after burning his neighborhood, he doesn’t really have anybody else. and was taken by slender right after that.

➯ kate one day casually said that toby reminds her of a sibling,toby was taken back and need a few seconds to relies that she’s being serious. he cried a bit when he heard that from her because he never thought he would ever be a good brother bc he wasn’t there for his sister at that time. :(

➯ long story short they hugged each other that day. sworn kate he will protect her knowing full well she can defend herself. he doesn’t want to repeat his trauma. will break him even more if he lost another sibling because of his actions.

🖤. . about the same as brian, she sleeps like she’s dead. creeps everyone the heck out.

🖤. . cat person!! has a pocket full of treats for the cats that she’s sees in a everyday basis. 🖤🖤

🖤. . if she’s not wearing her white hoodie and black jeans she’s going to pull up with some street wear aesthetic..!!!

🖤. . the white hoodie she wears all the time … yeah she forgets to wash it ☹️ all the time. same with her mask. forgets to clean it.

🖤. . some angst bc why not…misses Lauren so much. after she died, she kept her journal and rereads everything so she could never forget about her.

🖤. . visit her grave once in a while to give her flowers and just trying to remember memories of her.

🖤. . doesn’t like the operator at all. hates it. with every fiber in her being , hates that she now “works” for it now. i don’t blame her though, i mean her whole entire family was haunted & tormented by this thing for ages.

🖤. . ending this in a good note^^ , buuut every night her and toby without a doubt (sometimes tim and brian if there up for it ) have a game night.

🖤. . meaning getting to play with toby’s consoles while there both sitting on the couch and focus very intensely at the t.v in the living room. button smashing and everything . playing until god knows how long.

🖤. . screaming yelling and cursing each other in there own languages.

🖤. . playing board games or cards like uno while sitting together on dinner table and secretly everyone is plotting to piss off toby and works every single time.

ꪆৎ 𝙰/𝙽 : i hope you like these headcanons 😭😭 im sorry it’s SOOO long i literally i didn’t see that coming until i posted it . i’ll try to be consistent with posting but no promises >< bc tbh i only post if i have the energy too or literally the brain rot is that bad. anywaysss liu out!

should i continue these hc’s & make a pt 2? 🧐

if you like my content don’t forget to like , comment , & reblog❤️.

liuuboo2025 ♡ﾟthx for reading! love y’all!

[necromancerbunny]

I’ve got a secret, can you keep it? || #1

summary: Aaron corners you at your parents’ anniversary party to tell you what he wants.

warnings: age gap, dbf!Hotch

If your parents knew what thoughts are plaguing your mind every time you look at Aaron at their anniversary party, they would lose their marbles. But how could you not think about him? How could you not think about the way he looks at you from across the room, how much his expression softens when he’s talking to you? The signs are there, you’re just unsure if you’re decoding them right.

It’s probably the age difference that makes you so uncertain, prompting you to wonder if he would even want something from you. Aren’t you too young? Aren’t you too naive? Why would he want you? Still, the way he looks at you always pulls a dreamy sigh from your lips. Just one chance. All you need is one chance to find out what if.

There’s something about him that keeps pulling you in, that gravitational field forged from his quiet confidence, from the way he acts so nice and polite despite being the unit chief of one of the FBI’s most prestigious teams. And those eyes? And that rare smile? They haunt you in your dreams. Oh, those dreams…

“I need your help. It’s an emergency,” you hear your cousin’s voice a mere second before his fingers clasp around your wrist to pull you away from the terrace door.

You love Liam, he’s only sixteen, but he’s dating his first proper girlfriend now, so he can be pretty lost sometimes, and he doesn’t feel like asking for his parents’ advice. So, you became the person he turns to for a few wise words, which is kind of funny considering you haven’t dated anyone properly in a while.

Despite your love for this kid, your attention often slips away during the conversation, because you know Aaron’s eyes are watching you closely, putting a sweet pressure on you by making it hard to focus on your relative. When you dare to throw a casual glance in his direction, as if you were just scanning the room without looking for anyone or anything, you see that damn smug smirk on his face.

Suddenly, your cousin’s phone starts playing his favorite song, his girlfriend’s name flashing on the screen. He looks uncertain, but you want to take this chance to get rid of him. With a kind, supportive smile, you tell him to be a man and talk to her, tell her why exactly he doesn’t feel like introducing her to his parents just yet.

With a sigh, you head to the backyard, following the path that leads you to your parents. Not because you want to have a chat with them, but because Aaron’s there. He’s busy explaining someone to a woman you don’t know, but you can see that look in her eyes, that smitten look with those sparkling eyes that tell you what she wants from him. He doesn’t seem to notice, or rather he’s just good at hiding his emotions.

It’s jealousy that’s clawing at your heart, leaving an ache behind you don’t want to feel, so you flash a smile at your mother who’s watching you with curious eyes, then take a step back to leave the group. But your body freezes before you could walk away, because you suddenly feel his hand on the small of your back. When you look at him, you see the way the corner of his lips curl into a barely visible smile.

No one seems to notice, not even that woman who’s still watching him with those wide, doe eyes. You can’t help but wonder how long that might last, because you instinctively bite your lower lip when his fingers spread on your back. He’s gonna be the death of you, but god, wouldn’t it be the sweetest possible death?

“I’m sorry, do you happen to have some painkillers? I can feel a headache coming,” he suddenly says, giving your parents an almost awkward smile. Your mother tells him they have some in the master bathroom, but when she puts her champagne flute on a table behind her, he’s quick to speak up. “No, it’s your night, I’m sure your daughter knows her way around.”

It takes a second to register what he just said. He wants you to go with him, he wants you to join him on this trip into the house. A part of the house that is usually off-limits to the guests. Panic fills you, but you manage to take a deep breath to calm your nerves. It’s just an innocent request, he surely doesn’t have some ulterior motive. And if he did, then what? That’s what you want, after all, isn’t it?

Before you know it, Aaron leads you toward the house, passing through the crowd in silence. There aren’t any curious looks, no one seems to wonder what you’re doing there together, because you’re an adult, and he’s just a family friend. A recently divorced and stupidly handsome family friend, someone you have very, very indecent dreams about.

God dammit.

When you reach the master bedroom, he closes the door behind you and stops. You turn back with a questioning look, but he’s just standing there, brown eyes observing you curiously. Gulping, you decide it would be for the best if you just moved on to the bathroom to get what he asked for, so you don’t have to face him. The way he’s watching you? That’s pure torture. It’s like he wants to say something, but he’s hesitating, as if something was holding him back.

You find some Advil in the bathroom, but when you take the box from the shelf, you hear the sound of footsteps behind you. “I don’t really need that,” you hear him say, so you turn around to see what he wants then.

Aaron’s smile reaches his eyes, making you melt on the spot. No wonder that woman was all over him, who in their right mind wouldn’t be? Sometimes you can’t help but think about what he must be like behind the scenes, because there has to be something, a reason why Haley left him. You heard the story from your parents, but you never dared to ask him about that.

“But you said–”

“I know what I said, but that was a lie,” he informs you casually. When you give him a questioning look, he flashes a smile at you. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

At first, you just stare at him, mouth agape. But then your brows furrow as you take a deep breath, preparing to ask the stupidest question you can think of. “Nothing. Why do you ask?” you wonder out loud.

There’s a beat of silence before he steps closer to you. “Dinner. I have a reservation for eight, so I’ll pick you up half an hour earlier, okay? Wear something nice.” When he sees that you froze from the suggestion, he lets out a quiet chuckle. “You’re so beautiful when you’re confused,” he says as he reaches out to push a strand of hair behind your ear.

A secret relationship with Aaron Hotchner is like a rabbit hole. You dive in, following the flow, and only hope things would work out in the end. But damn, isn’t it the best thing ever? He’s nice, handsome, confident, and did you mention handsome?

Yes, you’re screwed.

[lorisidirgiichi2002]

TADC - Anxiety/Autistic Reader Headcanons.

Gender-Neutral Pronouns Friendship levelled relationships.

--------------------------------------------

For Pomni, she is just as anxious as you, though while she has started to cope with it a lot better for a few months, she can relate to wanting to escape and get out of the circus just as much. The first few interactions are awkward, but after hanging out with them, and you understand her scenario, you both grow to relatable friends and might look for the exit together while trying to go with the flow of the adventures and curious to hear about her adventures, though won't reveal some Out of Bounds secrets early on so you don't recklessly go looking for it fearing of being Abstracted.

Since Ragatha offered a hand to you, you saw Ragatha as a sort of mother figure, if not that, a really good person to go towards for advice or comfort away from the chaotic scenarios that happen in the Circus. While you have confirmed that you mostly rather be left alone to do your favourite activities, you'd start to panic if anything happens to your close friends, especially to Ragatha and she'd respect your space and boundaries the most, even in a bad mood. If there's something the others don't understand about you, you tell them to Ragatha and passes it on towards others, though might raise a eyebrow on Jax knowing him.

Depending on the type of person you are, you either going to relate to Jax or you're going to hate him. Jax is a snarky jackass that would purposely lead you into danger or screw you over or pull pranks. You'd rightfully call him out and would lose your cool towards him, though if you manage to catch some rare instances that he's depressed or in a low mood, you might be able to strike a conversation with him when the mood is calmer, though he tries to hide it. Jax when the façade breaks would probably speak his frustrations about this place and you'd understand his feelings and probably wanted to hang out with him if the adventures started to get boring and stale and cause a tiny bit of trouble. (Not too much to his extent.) Though you know it doesn't excuse the few times he pranked you and left you panicking and overwhelmed and messing with your pattern and routine with dealing with the Digital Circus.

Gangle is probably a member of the Digital Circus that you'd would probably feel the most empathy for and relates to being the joke of the group. Gangle is the most fragile and emotional of the group and to see someone step up and be there for them would be a mood bringer. You'd would be the most apologetic if you ever broke their comedy mask and would help out in repairing it and probably talk about your hyperfixations and some funny stories to try and cheer Gangle up. Though depending with your relationship with Jax, you'd 100% protect Gangle like their life depends on it, because that's not what friends are for being bullies to each other or respectfully tell him to stop.

Kinger is something that is absolutely hard to crack and understand personality wise and difficult. Being the most paranoid and unpredictable member of the group, you could see themselves as Kinger if Ragatha didn't come to your aid and had to adapt without help. You'd probably be scared about Kinger's absent minded and slow reactions to your presence and be scared of them screaming or wielding a shotgun, though tried to calm him down and be there for them regardless of how you feel about him. Depending on the episode canon by the time of writing this (30th September 2024), it is unknown if Kinger would ever talk about Queenie or even mention about her towards you.

Zooble is the most rude and irritable member of the group, while she might be off to do her own thing and not partake in adventures with a soft side to newcomers, I believe that Zooble might be a member that might take a long time to bond with, but maybe an alternative to Jax and wants to let off some steam if Ragatha isn't available and just say a bunch of censored swears. Though you might feel a bit sad if Zooble told you to !#@? off or insulting you and gives them space. Zooble might believe that next to Kinger, you might be the next member to be abstracted knowing how you're coping with living here, just to break out their persona would try to understand and help you.

Caine is definitely the most uneasy member to hang out with, being the know it all and so forth running the circus. You might call to him to ask any questions or any rules and logic you need to understand living in the digital circus and write it down in notes, though might use that information to Pomni for understanding and finding a way out. While Caine is generally cheerful and willing to help you, you can't help but sense there's something uncanny about him outside of his strange appearance. Just the understanding of the concept of Abstraction sends shivers down your spine despite him telling you not to worry about it too much and motivates you to leave even more. Bubble appearing out of nowhere would startle you and probably pop them without Caine's permission via instinct and habit if they kept interrupting you.

What do you guys think? Was there some things you'd change? Do you want to see a S/O sequel to this? Let me know in the comments below.

[r0-boat]

Yandere!Lighter Hcs RAA

This is pure rambling word vomit I just need him.

*drops all of my ZZZ Yandere headcannons* Oh no please I beg you don't read them 👀👀👀

Wise and Belle are next

Cw: Not healthy relationship, NSFW, non-con, kidnapping, implied that he is going to harm you, He is not okay, do not read if you are not okay.

Lighter is sickly sweet to you like candy, He's close to the sons of Caledon but they would never understand how he feels for you. Everyone else outside the people he respects he doesn't care. Without you he saw the world in black and white. It might sound cheesy but you are his everything. And like hell he was going to lose his everything without a fight.

It doesn't matter if you love him or not, would be easier if you just accepted his love and stayed with him.... Not going to lie it hurts, It fucking hurts The fact the one person he fell in love with his first love does not feel the same. He never felt like this before nor he'll ever in his future.

Lighter we'll never just straight up admit his feelings for you He's too scared that you'll reject him. And he is downright terrified that you'll find out about his obsession for you that feels too damn good to stop.

You will never know that with his connections he has hired a few people to take a few pictures of you. Pictures that He uses the touch himself to every night.

You will never know how pathetic you make him feel when he can't have You in his field of vision for a single second.

Threatening anyone who is close to you, using intimidation alone at the others around you to make sure he's the only one you need. To you your friends and family we'll just think Lighter is a bad influence and a bad boyfriend, You none the wiser we'll think they're not looking past his looks. Because how could he be so deplorable and possessive when he's just so sweet?

Lighter when snaps he tries to calm has already spiraling mind, His shaky hands trying to fish in his pocket for a jawbreaker for him to suck on as his anxiety starts to spike and he makes a spontaneous decision to kidnapped you, He was never one for big plans or manipulation or anything. But he has you now and... He doesn't really want to let go of you. He knows full well that you don't like him It still hurts every time he's reminded of that. But he's so so sure that he could make you fall in love with him. All you have to do is... Stop being bad.

Lighter acts like the delusional yandere, Even though he's fully aware of how you feel about him. I think he just chooses to ignore it.

Believe him he doesn't want to punish you, He doesn't want to chain you down, or tie you up, or lock you away. And he certainly doesn't want to hurt you. He wants to protect you. Protect you from everything that can hurt you outside. But he will if he has to, It's the only way to make you see reason. you'll learn your lesson... One day.

Lighter is still sweet to you, maybe even sweeter now that he knows he gets to come home to the love of his life, You come home with flowers, candy, anything you like. And as soon as he sees you his tired face will lighten into a smile as he drops on his knees to your level to kiss your face and gently touch you.

He can't keep his hands off you "Hey baby~ how was your day today?"He would mumble against your neck pepper and kisses on your collarbone, He knows full well how your day has been and What you have been doing. But he wants to hear you say it. He wants to hear that voice he's been aching to hear all day. He really needs it.

He wants you on his cock so bad, when he has you in his lap stroking your thigh with his hand, you could feel something poke into your butt. But he can't take you; He wants to make love to you, And he can't do that when you don't realize how much He loves you.

He's not sure how long he'll last since the more you push him away the more he just wants to say "fuck it, You want a villain? you'll get one." to train your cock drunk self to take him everyday. But he wants you to love him; He doesn't want you to lust for him. He wants to come home and cook dinner with you, have a casual conversation, and cuddle by the fireplace before he makes love to you right there as the dancing fire casts your shadows on the walls.

He wants you to feel loved in his arms, He wants to be all mushy gushy and romantic with you. He wants all these things that he's afraid that he'll never have in his life. And he rather just force it on the one person he fell in love with.

[romanoffsdarling]

Later Never Comes

Pairing: CEO!Silver-Fox!Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your love for her knew no bounds, but there’s only so long you can hold on— only so many empty promises you can stand— before you finally have to let go. Before you finally realize that later may never become real.

Word Count: 4,779

Warnings: G!P Wanda, legal age gap, brief oral (R receiving), dirty (and slightly possessive) talk, mommy kink, slightly rough sex, neglect, and angst (with a bittersweet ending). 18+, Minors DNI.

Author’s Note: I know I promised a second part to Summertime Sadness and Time To Say (Goodbye), but I couldn’t get this idea out of my head. I hope you can forgive me!

Great love always ends in tragedy.

That’s the saying, right? A stupid one if you had anything to say about it. What’s so great about love if it only ends in heartbreak? If you don’t end up with the person that makes your entire being thrum? If everything that had once been so colorful is suddenly black-and-white due to their absence?

Is the love great due to the story? To the emotions, the events, that occur throughout its long winded saga? Or is it great because it was doomed from the start? Because, even though it’d end one way, two people were still willing to fight the odds, to fight fate, even if they’d never end up winning.

You’re not sure, nor do you care, because there’s no way a love of that kind could be anything except terrible— except bone-chillingly agonizing in the way you’d have to figure out how to move on without it. Figure out how to be without the person that made everything make sense, that made you feel like the person you were always meant to be.

Even if it’s been years since you’ve seen her, years since you’ve felt her lips against yours, an elegantly lithe body pressed to your own, and the sweet scent of sandalwood and lavender mixed perfectly in your nose, you haven’t been able to figure that out. Haven’t been able to get her out of your system, no matter how much you may try.

How could you? When you’ve loved, and been loved by, Wanda Maximoff?

[Past]

“I’m just saying she’s been interested to meet you since she saw our group picture from Fiji.” Your best friend, Agatha, relayed, jovially leading you towards the small, yet upscale, café that Wanda Maximoff— CEO of Scarlet Entertainment— agreed to meet you. “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, sweetie. Especially one that came about due to my own propensity to lose bets with that witch.”

Your brow furrows. “I’m just not sure what exactly this meeting is supposed to be about. I just graduated college, I barely have any experience under my belt.”

“But you have me as a mentor,” she rebukes, a small smirk on her lips. “And that’s all that you need to get into Wanda’s head.”

“Ah, yes.” You roll your eyes, amusement welling within your chest. “How could I forget about your age-old rivalry?”

“Don’t phrase it like that. Makes me sound old.” Agatha bumps her shoulder against yours, eyes narrowed.

“And mentor doesn’t?”

“Nope.” She pops the ‘p’. “That makes me sound wise.”

“And what does wisdom come from again?”

You’re just able to dodge the swat directed at your arm, a bright smile tugging your lips upward, as you finally enter the quaint café— the aromatic smell of coffee, a hint of cinnamon, and something slightly citrusy, hits you all at once. A combination that shouldn’t have worked as well it did.

Once you placed your order— a simple coffee with your usual additions— you turned back to Agatha with an expectant expression. “Anything I should know about this meetings, Ags?”

She shakes her head, tendrils of brown hair escaping the haphazard bun she had thrown them in. “You’re here.” Agatha hands you the drink the barista had just put beside you, a wane smile on her lips. “That’s the important part to achieve for any date.”

Your steps stutter, nearly causing you to trip into a nearby table. “W-What?” Widened eyes meet Agatha’s unaffected one, a certain level of calmness that you found irritating. “What do you mean date? I thought this was a meeting?”

Agatha waves her hand. “Lunch meeting, lunch date. Means the same thing in the end.” She shoulders her purse, clearly not planning on staying any longer than she has to. “You’ll be fine, Y/N. You’re a catch. Maximoff would have to be a bigger idiot than I think she already is if she lets you go.”

Before you’re able to respond, Agatha places a chaste kiss to your cheek, offers one last cheeky wink, and saunters her way out of the café, leaving you completely alone. You’re honestly tempted to just abandon ship and get out of dodge— you weren’t good on dates, let alone blind dates. Something your best friend is well aware of, and would definitely be getting in an earful about this later.

However, before you’re able to make a concrete decision on your exit strategy, a husky voice speaks up from behind you.

“Are you Y/N?”

The most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen stood in front of you when you turned around: long auburn hair, speckled with the beginning signs of gray, paired perfectly with the sharp emerald green of her gaze. An elegantly lithe body, encased in a form-fitting suit, tailored made to enhance every perfect curve, relaxed in a way that almost seemed arrogant— if it was for the confidence that exudes from her very being.

“Yes.” Your brain finally catches up with you, remembering the question she had asked. “Y/N.” You hold out your hand for her to shake. “Y/N L/N, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

A small smile catches full lips, a slender hand grasping your own in a firm shake. “Wanda Maximoff.” Green eyes trail down your body. “And, trust me, the pleasure is all mine.”

The months that followed the blind date went by in a blur. You could honestly say that you’ve never met anyone else like Wanda Maximoff— a woman that personified ice and fire. Watching her work— whether it be as you’re lounged on her large leather sectional, laptop balanced on her lap as slender fingers gently stroke your back, or she’s pacing back and forth with her phone pressed to her ear; voice dripping with barely concealed annoyance, underlined by a calm collectiveness that never failed to make you swoon— was an art form in itself, but being able to see the woman that appeared at the end of the day?

Where an icy facade of professionalism melts into warm smile and gentle eyes. Sharp words being replaced by sweet nothings and gentle humming.

In Wanda’s arms you’ve found a place you never even knew you were missing— home. You had a couple relationships in the past, but none of them made you feel the way Wanda does; all paling in comparison to the beautiful Sokovian.

The one thing you hadn’t expected upon beginning to date the older woman was how insatiable she was— not that you were complaining— but Wanda needed to have you as often as she could. Taking you the bedroom of your apartment, the various rooms in her penthouse, in her office within Scarlet Entertainment, hell even in the back of a limo on the way to an event. Wanda needed to have you and you needed to have her right back.

Another little thing you’ve learned about her? Or, you should say, not so little? The Sokovian sported an extra appendage that had quickly become your new best friend— not that you were going to tell Agatha that— who seemed to want you as much as Wanda did.

Which is how you found yourself where you are now— on your back, thighs clamped around Wanda’s head, as she thoroughly ate you out on the couch of her office.

“Yes.” You arch sharply, a sob being torn from your throat as Wanda’s tongue plunges even deeper into you. Your girlfriend hums happily at the sound, the vibrations sending a shockwave across your clit, and another wave of wetness gushes out of you— something that Wanda is all too happy to lap up. She had told you on more than one occasion, after she spent hours upon hours between your thighs, that you beat out even the finest of wines to her. “Please. I need you.”

With clear reluctance to leave, Wanda pulls back and easily settles on top of you. Lips and chin shining lewdly in the dim lighting of her office, darkened emerald eyes sparkling even brighter.

“You taste great, detka.” She lowers her head, offering her tongue for you to suck on. Giving you a taste of yourself, mixed intoxicatingly with her own natural one. “Could spend hours eating up your perfect pussy, but that’s not what you want, huh?” She jerks her hips, rubbing her cock against your wetness. “You want mommy to be inside you, right? Want her to stretch you out and make you scream?” Another roll of her hips causes you to arch, a breathless gasp leaving you, but Wanda doesn’t relent. “Answer me, detka. Be my good girl and I’ll give you what you crave. What do you want mommy to do?”

“Fuck me.” The cry is practically wrenched from your chest, a deep felt plea for her to just plunge into you and ruin you for anyone else. Not that she hasn’t been able to accomplish that already. “I want you to slam your cock into my pussy and make me yours, mommy. I want your cock to make my pussy its own, to shape me in its image.”

A deep, almost rumbling, snarl erupts from Wanda in response, her hips snapping forward and you’re finally filled; stretched out so fucking perfectly, an obscene slurp echoed across the room the moment Wanda’s hips met your own. She hadn’t made you cum with her mouth, but you had been so close, she had given you a mini orgasm just by entering— a feat that brings a smug smile to Wanda’s lips.

“You feel that, detka.” She takes your hand and brings it down to the slight bulge in your lower abdomen. “That’s my cock ruining you for anyone else. No one will ever be able to fill you the way I do, make you scream yourself hoarse.” Wanda snaps her hips forward after a shallow pull-back, giving out a satisfied hum at the feeling of your slick walls pressed around her. “Your pussy belongs to me, your pleasure belongs to me, and you belong to me.”

Wanda lowers her head, lips pressed firmly to your own, giving you even more of a taste of yourself than before, as her tongue practically fucks your mouth while her cock fucks your pussy. When she detaches her lips from yours, only a thin trail of saliva is left, before she’s far enough away for it to snap.

The sound of flesh slapping against flesh permeates the air, an occasional grunt or moan intercepting it, and you’d be concerned about the noise level if Wanda hadn’t sent Peter, her assistant, home early— having planned to have you like this from the very moment she had invited you over.

“Just like that, mommy. Keep fucking me like that,” you babble, drunk on pleasure as Wanda kept driving her hips forward, one slender finger roughly rubbing your clit in time with each thrust. It’s of no surprise that you find your release quickly after, gushing over Wanda’s cock.

The tight contractions around her cock— as your second orgasm was much more powerful than your first— causes Wanda to groan, hips stuttering in their brutal pace. It’s clear that she was close, sweat slicked brow, causing strands of silver hair to cling to fair skin, but she obviously wanted you to come one last time— to be tossed over the edge with her.

With a shake breath, Wanda roughly brings you to the brink of your third orgasm, not even giving you time to fully get through the second. “One more, detka. You’ve got one more in you for mommy.” She dips her head, lips tenderly brushing across your forehead. “And when you come around mommy’s cock, I’m gonna fill you up like the good girl you are. Would you like that?”

You nod, practically whining. “Yes. Please.”

The older woman snarls once more, clearly affected by the look on your face, and, before you’re even aware of it, you’re crashing over the edge again— a cry of Wanda’s name passing over your lips as you spasm around her. Barely being able to catch Wanda’s own groan in response: “Yes.”

Jets of her cum paint your inner walls white, warming you up. It’s a feeling you don’t think you’ll ever get used to— or want to get used to, if you’re being honest.

Once she’s spent, Wanda gently lowers herself onto your still slightly spasming body, lips pressed softly against your cheek. “You did so good. So perfect for me. My beautiful girl.”

You happily nuzzle into Wanda’s neck, eyes drooping out of contented exhaustion. “I love you.”

You’re too out of it to feel Wanda stiffen in surprise, or to really understand what you had just whispered, but you are aware of Wanda’s arms tightening around you, her lips pressing more firmly against your skin, as she cuddles you closer to her.

And, as you begin to drift off completely, happy in Wanda’s arms, you faintly feel Wanda exhale across the shell of your ear, a shaky breath, uncharacteristic for the older woman, before her soft voice breaks through the silence: “I love you too. More than I ever thought I’d love anyone.”

[A Few Months Later…]

“How many do you want?”

It’s asked softly, one of Wanda’s hand gently running up-and-down your back in a soothing motion. Her lips pressed against the crown of your head, your face nuzzled against the crook of her neck, a place you don’t feel like leaving anytime soon.

“How many what?” You snuggle closer, delighted in the way her arms tighten instinctively. “I want a lot of things, Wands.”

Wanda huffs out a light chuckle. “Children, Y/N. How many children do you want?”

You stiffen in surprise at the question— Wanda hadn’t made it a secret that she didn’t plan on having kids. That she didn’t think she’d make a good mother due to her childhood and her busy lifestyle, but you also know that your girlfriend wouldn’t ask something unless she’s serious about the answer. Something you’ve figured out after all these months together. Regrettably, you pull your face away from the warm nest it had made so you’re able to look at her, and Wanda met your eyes calmly, sharp green softened in a way that’s only ever meant for you.

“What’s this about, Wanda?” You roll your lips, trying to process your next words carefully. “I thought you didn’t want kids?”

Emerald eyes flash warmly. “I didn’t want a lot of things, Y/N.” She easily tugs you back into her arms, lips pressed to your forehead. “But that was all before I met you.”

Touched by her words— and the clear sincerity within them— you decide to just bite the bullet, there wasn’t a point in delaying your answer. Especially if Wanda expected it.

“Two.” A gentle kiss is placed to her collarbone. “I want two boys. Twins.”

She breathes out another chuckle. “Twins, huh?” Maneuvering you both, you’re suddenly pressed against the mattress, Wanda hovering over you, smile still in place, with a familiar hardness nestled between your thighs. “That seems like something we’d have to get just right, correct?”

Even though it’s posed as question, you can tell that Wanda meant it rhetorically. That she already knew the answered you’d both settle on— an answer you always agreed upon.

Wiggling your hips, grinning mischievously at the sharp gasp that leaves Wanda’s lips at the added pressure, you throw your arms loosely around her neck.

“Yes.” You pull her closer, lips millimeters from her own. “I think it’s something we’re going to have practice quite a bit.”

Not needing any more prompting Wanda descends onto you with a ravenous hunger. One that you’re all too happy to match.

You can’t wait to experience your future if this is what’ll be waiting for you there.

The phone is cold against your overheated flesh— a concoction of anger and disappointment courses through you like lava.

“Wanda—” You pinch the bridge of your nose to stem the tide of anger. “This is the eighth time this week alone. What the hell am I supposed to tell the caterers? Again.”

A soft sigh resounds through the speaker. “Just tell them that I won’t be able to make it, Y/N.” The response, in a clearly distracted tone, does little to ease your growing ire. “I know you’ll be able to handle it.”

“I don’t want to handle it, Wanda. This is our wedding, I’d like for you to also have a say in it.” From the time on the clock, you didn’t have much time left to leave the penthouse. Not if you wanted to get to the appointment on time. “I’ve been planning this entire thing by myself, I want your help. I want to hear your opinions. I want you.”

To care goes without words, but you’re certain it rings out just the same. You had been so happy when Wanda had suddenly proposed, seemingly out of the blue. Though wasn’t that the point? Taking you to a rooftop restaurant, which she had rented out, and offered you the rare chance of getting to taste her impeccable cooking; all dishes she had learned from her mother back in Sokovia. It had been a night you’d forever cherish, memories forever ingrained in your heart: the way the stars made the green in Wanda’s eyes sparkle more, the subtle wind allowing you to be surrounded by her comforting scent, the bright smile she had given you when she dropped down to one knee, and the happy laugh that had escaped her when you said yes. It had been a fairytale, everything you had ever wanted.

Until you realized your Disney fairytale was beginning to turn into Brothers Grimm.

“You have me, Y/N.” Wanda lets out another sigh. “Look, I can’t keep talking the investors for the meeting just arrived and I need to get prepared. I promise that I’ll go over everything you discuss later, okay? I love you.”

“Wanda—”

You’re only met with the sound of the dial tone, barely getting the chance to reply before being hung up on, and the familiar aching sense of silence that follows— a hollow sound that distantly reminded you of what your heart has become.

It hadn’t always been like this. The penthouse, upon your first visit, had been cold, lifeless in a way that seemed almost inhuman, but slowly it had livened up— been filled with a sense of warmth and peace. Of love. It had been a place you could go to when you just needed an escape from the rest of the world, when you needed to be surrounded by things that remind you of the woman you love.

Now it’s suffocating in a way that you never wished for it to be.

You’re aware that Wanda is a busy woman— had been aware of it before your first date occurred— but she had always at least tried to be there. Always left you feeling like you were at least on the list of things that mattered, you didn’t necessarily need to be at the direct top; not when she had so many things to content with already. But, you’ve felt like nothing more than an afterthought lately.

Gentle kisses in the morning turned to brief parting words as she made her way quickly out the door.

Soft smiles, and inside jokes, turned to barely there quirks of full lips, and stretched out silences.

The warmth of her hold, the safety you felt from her touch, turned to an icy chill as she left you to the cold air— you don’t even remember when the last time was that you had been together properly. Since you had woken up in her arms.

You didn’t need a lot, you didn’t need all of her time, but you wanted to feel like you still mattered— that everything you have isn’t just another thing Wanda had marked off on her checklist of things to do before she turns 55.

Checking the time, a small curse leaves your lips once you realize that you’re going to be late, and, with one final glance towards the empty penthouse, you make your way out the door— hoping that the growing chill you feel isn’t indicative of a love grown cold.

Silence had become your greatest friend in the weeks that followed. The one thing that you’ve grown to count on as Wanda’s schedule only seemed to get busier and busier— hell, your relationship with her personal assistant had grown to the point that he’s been calling you by your first name now. Instead of the usually nervous ma’am or Ms. L/N.

Wedding appointments had come and gone, all of them spent alone, with Wanda barely perusing the choices that had been made before crashing out of sheer exhaustion. Conversation had grown stilted due to her own growing ire at you consistent worry— although she labeled it as nagging. That she’s been running her business for over thirty years, and she’s been doing fine.

Even now, on New Years Eve, as the clock moved ever closer to midnight, you were completely alone— expansive shadows, that seemed darker somehow, stretched out towards you like ghastly fingers, trying to tear whatever semblance of comfort you’ve found away. You’re not sure what you had been expecting, not even sure if you’d truly believed that Wanda would show herself, but you can’t lie and say that you hadn’t hoped.

Hoped that today, of all days, would be different. That you wouldn’t feel like a stranger, an intruder, within your own life, within your own home.

Fanciful musings and hopes of a lovestruck fool.

The small chirp of an incoming message pulls you from your reverie, a bright smile appearing instantly at the sight of who it’s from, before withering away once you read it: Sorry, I won’t be able to make it home tonight. Going to the Hamptons to meet some new business partners. I promise I’ll make it up to you later. I love you.

You don’t bother to send a message back— what could you possibly say? Yet another promise had been thrown to the wayside by the older woman. Even if it was just a cursory, and unspoken, one being as simple as not leaving your fiancé alone on New Years. Or waiting until the last minute to actually say anything about it.

A soft sigh escapes your lips, an acidic twang settling over your tongue, as bitterness seeps into your bloodstream, poisoning your heart and soul. You knew what you needed to do, have known since this had become your new normal, but hadn’t had the strength, or the courage, to make it a reality. Until now.

Until the heartbreak, the suffering, has become as close of a friend to you as the oppressive silence.

And, as the door to the penthouse gently closed behind you, never to be opened by your hand again, you feel a sense of bone-deep sorrow settle over you. For everything that could have been, for what you had hoped for, and all that you now had to live without. You could just step back inside, hide or destroy the letter, and Wanda would never know. She’d never find out how close you had been to giving up, but you couldn’t find the strength to do so. Could no longer gather up the power to keep fighting for something that’s been lost long ago— no matter how much your heart screams at it not being true.

Tears gather in your eyes as you take another step away from the door, away from the place you’ve lived in for the last two years, and your heart breaks with every step. But, it breaks even more at the knowledge that you were leaving your true home behind too— that doing this would destroy everything you have with Wanda, never to be salvaged. The penthouse may be expensive, and it may be beautiful, but it’d never be home to you like Wanda; it’d never offer you the same feeling of protection like her arms did.

You’ve been shut out of your home for months now, and being left out in the cold has finally frozen your heart enough for you to be able to do this. No matter how much more it was going to hurt once it thaws once more.

Shouldering your duffel bag, the only thing you’ve allowed yourself to bring, you step into the private elevator and press the button for the lobby. Hands tightening around the strap of the bag, trying to ignore the way your ring finger no longer felt the familiar press of metal against it as you do so.

It was time to look forward, to finally make your own laters, the things you had been pushing off, become an actuality.

Even if you wanted nothing more than to have never needed to say goodbye to Wanda Maximoff in the first place.

Losing the ring was one thing, but losing the love of your life?

It’s a wound you’re not sure if you’ll ever be able to recover from.

[Present]

“Mom?” The small voice catches your attention, your eyes focused back in to see bright eyes, twin grins being sported between the pair. “Can we still get hot chocolate?”

Billy and Tommy had come into your life when you needed them to most— a blessing that you’d definitely been searching for after everything imploded with Wanda. And, even if how they were conceived didn’t lend itself to a happy tale, you’d never change a thing. They were your twin miracles. Your beautiful baby boys— even if they were eight years old now.

“I thought you decided to get caramel popcorn instead?” You poke Billy’s side gently, delighted in the giggle the actions caused. “That’s what you both told me at the theater.”

Tommy’s eyes widened dramatically, in full puppy-dog mode. “But that was before you took us past our favorite store.” He points to the small café only a few feet away— one that you frequented with the twins when you could find the time. A place that you hadn’t even realized you’d be leading them towards. “Can we please get hot chocolate.”

The twins chime in unison: “Please.”

You chance a glance towards the café— deliberating your options— but you know that you’re going to cave. After all, the reason you had gone to the movies was to celebrate their stellar report cards. What harm could some extra hot chocolate do?

So, with a faux long-suffering sigh, you relent. “I suppose.”

“Yes!” Twin cheers are your immediate response, brightening the smile on your lips, and you soon find yourself in the quaint café— one that held so many memories for you. Phantoms of your past the whispered in your ear as you placed your order and directed your boys to their usual spot.

Only half-listening to their chatter about the movie you had just seen— some superhero film— you simply bask in the simplicity their joy brought you. Observing their small faces light up, little hands waving around as they discussed various points, and your heart swells with more love than you ever thought you could feel.

“—What did you think, mom?”

Billy’s sudden question tears you from your musings, his widened eyes, alight with excitement, giving you the impression that he really wanted to hear what you thought.

“About the movie?” They both nod. “I thought it was good, bug.”

Tommy pouts. “Yeah, but what did you like most about it? Did you have a favorite scene?”

“I—”

“Order for Y/N.”

Saved by the bell, you think. A wave of relief crashing over you. “You two stay put.” Standing, you ruffle their hair. “I’ll be right back with our drinks.”

At the prospect of their hot chocolate they don’t seem to mind that you didn’t answer their question— though you’d certain Tommy would ask you again. Though you’d have more than enough time to google some things about the movie before then. Small miracles.

Stopping at the counter, you take the tray with the drinks with a smile and a nod in greeting to the server you’ve grown quite fond of.

“Y/N?”

Breath catching in your throat at the husky voice sounding out behind you, the cadence and tone so familiar that your heart still burns from it. Hesitating only slightly, you turn and meet the shimmering emerald eyes you haven’t seen in a little over eight years. Her face still as beautiful as you’d last seen it, if a bit older now.

“Wanda.”

[dipperscavern]

Hi I genuinely love your work can you pls so some drabbles about Robb and a reader who's super touch averse in public but very cuddly in public

I love u pls don't die

-🥻

i live to serve!! thank you very much for the ask (i love u more) (was gonna die but i guess i wont just for u.....)

robb stark x fem!reader

theon’s voice rings through the hall, hands on his hips as he watches the chandelier be lowered. "Careful, Jon…. careful."

jon, lowering it, finds his ‘direction’ anything but helpful. "I'm bein' careful."

the chandeliers candles have been burnt down almost completely, and you had been assigned to the task of replacing them. you had only sought out jon to help lower it, but boredom is a contagious disease, making theon and robb jump at the opportunity to pass the time.

“You’re lowering it too fast.”

jon is patient, but theon is regal in his talent to annoy anybody, and peace is best found when his mouth is closed. you’re about to tell him so when robb beats you to it. “Shut up, Theon.”

he turns to robb, but a sharp noise cuts him off before he can retort. he jolts, and you stifle a laugh at his jumpiness.

he turns, finding the source to be the chandelier hitting the limit on its ability to be lowered. the glares he shoots at jon - whom is tying the chains into place - are not enough to wipe the smirk from his face while he does so.

jon abandons your construction crew at the first available opportunity - a wise choice. even while on a ladder replacing candles, you can't escape theon's nagging he likes to call "supervision".

"The shortest ones should be in the center. "

"Have you done this before?"

"That's not where it goes."

"I'll show you where it goes, Greyjoy." you call down, losing your sanity after a meager five minutes. theon raises his hands in surrender, looking to robb for support, but is only met with a shake of his head. “Fine then, do it wrong.” he mutters under his breath. “No skin off my back.”

minutes of sweet, sweet silence pass, and eventually, you sigh much louder than intended. it betrays your frustrations.

you start to move down the ladder, and robb calls from below. "What is it?"

"Ran out of candles. I think we-" the ladders instability is proven when you're about to touch the ground, and it moves under your weight. you would've fallen, if not for robb's reflexes. his grip is bruising, but welcomed in face of the alternative of hitting the floor.

"You alright?" he aks. you nod. "Thanks, Robb."

you're quick to slip out of his hold, feeling white hot embarrassment crawl up your spine. its only theon, you tell yourself. somehow, it doesn't help. robb doesn't hold it against you, letting you go without protest. he's nothing if not understanding.

theon notices, brows furrowing as you retreat to resupply in candles. once you turn the corner, he pipes up. "What's all that?"

robb fights with the ladder, trying to bring some stability to it. "All what?"

"You know what. She's your lady and you can't touch her?"

robb turns slightly as he glances at theon. luckily for him, you're not around, meaning he doesn't have to keep his language proper.

"Just because the whores you accompany like to be groped in public," he says. "doesn't mean my lady feels the same."

the greyjoy is apt at recognizing defeat. "Fair enough."

eventually, the ladder starts behaving, not nearly as shaky as it was minutes ago. robb sends a quick thanks to the gods, and when he turns back around, your pretty face pops around the corner. you wave him over, and he shoos theon off before making his way over to you. 

“Get lost on the way?” he says, approaching. “Big castle, s’ alright.” your eye roll in response is nothing short of the greatest reward. you turn and start walking; he follows with a lovesick smile on his face.

“I’m in need of a tall person, as someone... quite intelligent has decided to place candles on the very top shelf.” 

robbs glad he's walking behind you, so not to give away how he fights a massive grin. someone intelligent must have done that, of course. “Tall,” he repeats. “Yes,” you confirm. 

“And handsome, surely,” he adds. “They’ll hide if you aren't. Theon can never find them.”  

he catches a glimpse of your smile as you open the door to one of winterfells (many) storage rooms. not huge areas, but comfortable enough for their intended purpose. you weren’t lying – they really are high up. he forgets to pretend to not know where they were moved.  

if you notice, you don't bring attention to it, only moving to stand on a small stool next to the space robb fills while reaching for what you need. these specific kinds of candles are tricky, stood on a tray & quite easy to knock over. he hands you the tray in front, reaching to get the one farther back.  

“Robb?” he hums, holding a tray of his own. “Thanks for catching me. Really.” he murmurs something in agreeance, brows lightly furrowed - you already thanked him minutes ago. not that he’s complaining, of course.

still on your stool, it makes it easier for you to reach out, caressing his curls. “I don’t mean to be difficult, I just get...” your hand drops as your sentence trails off - he wishes it wouldn’t. “You make me nervous.” you manage, stepping off your stool. 

“Hey,” he temporarily blocks the door. your eyes meet his. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

you shrug like you don’t believe him. he scoffs. “I should lock you in here... talking to yourself like that.” he opens the door for you with a shake of his head, catching another lucky glimpse of the smile you try and fight off. he allows himself a final mutter of, “Blasphemous, really,”