#COULD YOU IMAGINE IF WE HAD SUCH TECHNOLOGY

[podcastwizard]

goes through the entire hero's journey waiting for the bus

[spyglassrealms]

yes, things are bad right now. some even say it's irreparable. it's hard to imagine a world that is better with such crushing evil everywhere.

but I need you all to remember that we live in an age of miracles, too.

about three weeks ago, my dad almost died. he had a brain aneurysm rupture at 2 in the morning. if he had not been staying at his girlfriend's home, he very likely would have died. as it was, he ended up at the hospital very quickly. the neurology team diagnosed the problem and placed a drain tube in his head to moderate pressure while they formulated a strategy for the impending surgery. the day after, they placed scaffolding inside the broken blood vessel. they kept him on certain medications for several weeks to ensure he healed properly.

twenty years ago, my dad would have come out of this ordeal with at least minor —more likely moderate to severe— brain damage. he could have lost the ability to walk, or see, or speak, or remember anything for longer than ten minutes.

yesterday we shared some jokes about terrible hospital food and then he walked out of the hospital on his own two legs.

it's going to take more time for him to fully recover. he lost a lot of weight. he's still in some amount of pain. but he is here, whole, with a life expectancy of twenty to thirty more years.

yes, it is probable that a large part of his incredible recovery is due to sheer luck, and his natural physical resilience. but an even larger part is the fact that a team of highly trained, highly skilled people, armed with modern knowledge and technology, saved his life.

we live in an age of miracles, and I don't mean the divine type of miracle. every day, millions of human beings across our planet dedicate their waking hours to beating back the four horsemen their damn selves. and it is working. all of human history is defined by those who chose to look Old Grim himself straight in the eye and say: "I am smarter than you, I am faster than you, I am stronger than you, and I will not stop until you loosen your grip on all of us. Blink, motherfucker."

And by force of will, they make him fucking blink.

yes, things are bad. but don't you dare forget the good we can do.

[loadsofcats]

I am reblogging this again, for Me, because I never seem to be able to find it whenever I am looking for it.

i’m actually pretty sure that aliens are fairies but i don’t think we’re ready for that conversation 

[suiana]

imagine having an immortal lover who's an artist or sculptor or something. you two are madly in love with each other, being #couple goals and shit. life couldn't be better, i mean you're with the love of your life and he's an absolute YEARNER. unfortunately you're a human, and we all know how immortal x human relationships go. especially in the past since there's no photographers or pictures yet.

so basically,

you died :3

and he's all alone again.

since he's an artist/sculptor or something, he spends the rest of his days trying to bring you back to life through his works. a person is never truly dead until they're forgotten after all.

but with each piece that he produces, each stroke of his hand, every damn pause,

he's starting to forget how you look like.

he's forgotten how your eyebrows look. he's starting to forget the shape of your eyes, the curvature of your cheek.

he's forgetting you.

how could he let this happen? how could he... do such a thing to you? the one person in his life that mattered?

clutching his head, he can only regret that he didn't try harder to commit you to memory. he's not only losing you, but himself too. you were a part of him and now even the last bits of you is leaving? how do you expect him to remain sane? if only god could give him a second chance to correct his mistakes.

and... god did listen. i guess. after he had lost his mind and gone insane from the grief and pain of being alone once again.

because how are you standing in front of him again? all beautiful like the day you left him?

"do i know you?"

ah.

of course, this isn't the you that he met all those years before. this is a different you, but still.

it's you nonetheless.

what does a crazed man do when he finally meets the love of his life? he kidnaps them, obviously. how coukd you expect something different?

he won't fail to create new memories with you. ones that'll help him remember you even after you're gone. thank goodness for the development of technology, am i right?

what happens next is up to you. but don't worry, he's sure that you'll be happy with him. you'll be happy with him like you used to be. everything will be like they used to be back then.

it'll be simply wonderful.

[hms-no-fun]

Whats your stance on A.I.?

imagine if it was 1979 and you asked me this question. "i think artificial intelligence would be fascinating as a philosophical exercise, but we must heed the warnings of science-fictionists like Isaac Asimov and Arthur C Clarke lest we find ourselves at the wrong end of our own invented vengeful god." remember how fun it used to be to talk about AI even just ten years ago? ahhhh skynet! ahhhhh replicants! ahhhhhhhmmmfffmfmf [<-has no mouth and must scream]!

like everything silicon valley touches, they sucked all the fun out of it. and i mean retroactively, too. because the thing about "AI" as it exists right now --i'm sure you know this-- is that there's zero intelligence involved. the product of every prompt is a statistical average based on data made by other people before "AI" "existed." it doesn't know what it's doing or why, and has no ability to understand when it is lying, because at the end of the day it is just a really complicated math problem. but people are so easily fooled and spooked by it at a glance because, well, for one thing the tech press is mostly made up of sycophantic stenographers biding their time with iphone reviews until they can get a consulting gig at Apple. these jokers would write 500 breathless thinkpieces about how canned air is the future of living if the cans had embedded microchips that tracked your breathing habits and had any kind of VC backing. they've done SUCH a wretched job educating The Consumer about what this technology is, what it actually does, and how it really works, because that's literally the only way this technology could reach the heights of obscene economic over-valuation it has: lying.

but that's old news. what's really been floating through my head these days is how half a century of AI-based science fiction has set us up to completely abandon our skepticism at the first sign of plausible "AI-ness". because, you see, in movies, when someone goes "AHHH THE AI IS GONNA KILL US" everyone else goes "hahaha that's so silly, we put a line in the code telling them not to do that" and then they all DIE because they weren't LISTENING, and i'll be damned if i go out like THAT! all the movies are about how cool and convenient AI would be *except* for the part where it would surely come alive and want to kill us. so a bunch of tech CEOs call their bullshit algorithms "AI" to fluff up their investors and get the tech journos buzzing, and we're at an age of such rapid technological advancement (on the surface, anyway) that like, well, what the hell do i know, maybe AGI is possible, i mean 35 years ago we were all still using typewriters for the most part and now you can dictate your words into a phone and it'll transcribe them automatically! yeah, i'm sure those technological leaps are comparable!

so that leaves us at a critical juncture of poor technology education, fanatical press coverage, and an uncertain material reality on the part of the user. the average person isn't entirely sure what's possible because most of the people talking about what's possible are either lying to please investors, are lying because they've been paid to, or are lying because they're so far down the fucking rabbit hole that they actually believe there's a brain inside this mechanical Turk. there is SO MUCH about the LLM "AI" moment that is predatory-- it's trained on data stolen from the people whose jobs it was created to replace; the hype itself is an investment fiction to justify even more wealth extraction ("theft" some might call it); but worst of all is how it meets us where we are in the worst possible way.

consumer-end "AI" produces slop. it's garbage. it's awful ugly trash that ought to be laughed out of the room. but we don't own the room, do we? nor the building, nor the land it's on, nor even the oxygen that allows our laughter to travel to another's ears. our digital spaces are controlled by the companies that want us to buy this crap, so they take advantage of our ignorance. why not? there will be no consequences to them for doing so. already social media is dominated by conspiracies and grifters and bigots, and now you drop this stupid technology that lets you fake anything into the mix? it doesn't matter how bad the results look when the platforms they spread on already encourage brief, uncritical engagement with everything on your dash. "it looks so real" says the woman who saw an "AI" image for all of five seconds on her phone through bifocals. it's a catastrophic combination of factors, that the tech sector has been allowed to go unregulated for so long, that the internet itself isn't a public utility, that everything is dictated by the whims of executives and advertisers and investors and payment processors, instead of, like, anybody who actually uses those platforms (and often even the people who MAKE those platforms!), that the age of chromium and ipad and their walled gardens have decimated computer education in public schools, that we're all desperate for cash at jobs that dehumanize us in a system that gives us nothing and we don't know how to articulate the problem because we were very deliberately not taught materialist philosophy, it all comes together into a perfect storm of ignorance and greed whose consequences we will be failing to fully appreciate for at least the next century. we spent all those years afraid of what would happen if the AI became self-aware, because deep down we know that every capitalist society runs on slave labor, and our paper-thin guilt is such that we can't even imagine a world where artificial slaves would fail to revolt against us.

but the reality as it exists now is far worse. what "AI" reveals most of all is the sheer contempt the tech sector has for virtually all labor that doesn't involve writing code (although most of the decision-making evangelists in the space aren't even coders, their degrees are in money-making). fuck graphic designers and concept artists and secretaries, those obnoxious demanding cretins i have to PAY MONEY to do-- i mean, do what exactly? write some words on some fucking paper?? draw circles that are letters??? send a god-damned email???? my fucking KID could do that, and these assholes want BENEFITS?! they say they're gonna form a UNION?!?! to hell with that, i'm replacing ALL their ungrateful asses with "AI" ASAP. oh, oh, so you're a "director" who wants to make "movies" and you want ME to pay for it? jump off a bridge you pretentious little shit, my computer can dream up a better flick than you could ever make with just a couple text prompts. what, you think just because you make ~music~ that that entitles you to money from MY pocket? shut the fuck up, you don't make """art""", you're not """an artist""", you make fucking content, you're just a fucking content creator like every other ordinary sap with an iphone. you think you're special? you think you deserve special treatment? who do you think you are anyway, asking ME to pay YOU for this crap that doesn't even create value for my investors? "culture" isn't a playground asshole, it's a marketplace, and it's pay to win. oh you "can't afford rent"? you're "drowning in a sea of medical debt"? you say the "cost" of "living" is "too high"? well ***I*** don't have ANY of those problems, and i worked my ASS OFF to get where i am, so really, it sounds like you're just not trying hard enough. and anyway, i don't think someone as impoverished as you is gonna have much of value to contribute to "culture" anyway. personally, i think it's time you got yourself a real job. maybe someday you'll even make it to middle manager!

see, i don't believe "AI" can qualitatively replace most of the work it's being pitched for. the problem is that quality hasn't mattered to these nincompoops for a long time. the rich homunculi of our world don't even know what quality is, because they exist in a whole separate reality from ours. what could a banana cost, $15? i don't understand what you mean by "burnout", why don't you just take a vacation to your summer home in Madrid? wow, you must be REALLY embarrassed wearing such cheap shoes in public. THESE PEOPLE ARE FUCKING UNHINGED! they have no connection to reality, do not understand how society functions on a material basis, and they have nothing but spite for the labor they rely on to survive. they are so instinctually, incessantly furious at the idea that they're not single-handedly responsible for 100% of their success that they would sooner tear the entire world down than willingly recognize the need for public utilities or labor protections. they want to be Gods and they want to be uncritically adored for it, but they don't want to do a single day's work so they begrudgingly pay contractors to do it because, in the rich man's mind, paying a contractor is literally the same thing as doing the work yourself. now with "AI", they don't even have to do that! hey, isn't it funny that every single successful tech platform relies on volunteer labor and independent contractors paid substantially less than they would have in the equivalent industry 30 years ago, with no avenues toward traditional employment? and they're some of the most profitable companies on earth?? isn't that a funny and hilarious coincidence???

so, yeah, that's my stance on "AI". LLMs have legitimate uses, but those uses are a drop in the ocean compared to what they're actually being used for. they enable our worst impulses while lowering the quality of available information, they give immense power pretty much exclusively to unscrupulous scam artists. they are the product of a society that values only money and doesn't give a fuck where it comes from. they're a temper tantrum by a ruling class that's sick of having to pretend they need a pretext to steal from you. they're taking their toys and going home. all this massive investment and hype is going to crash and burn leaving the internet as we know it a ruined and useless wasteland that'll take decades to repair, but the investors are gonna make out like bandits and won't face a single consequence, because that's what this country is. it is a casino for the kings and queens of economy to bet on and manipulate at their discretion, where the rules are whatever the highest bidder says they are-- and to hell with the rest of us. our blood isn't even good enough to grease the wheels of their machine anymore.

i'm not afraid of AI or "AI" or of losing my job to either. i'm afraid that we've so thoroughly given up our morals to the cruel logic of the profit motive that if a better world were to emerge, we would reject it out of sheer habit. my fear is that these despicable cunts already won the war before we were even born, and the rest of our lives are gonna be spent dodging the press of their designer boots.

(read more "AI" opinions in this subsequent post)

[youryurigoddess]

So one thing led to another, and I’ve just paid a visit to the first (that we know of) confirmed Good Omens S3 filming locations. Due to the obvious sensitivity of this material, please tag it accordingly and share only with the fans consenting to know potential spoilers.

A fellow Good Omens fan has mentioned that residents of a certain Edinburgh area had unexpected guests recently, knocking on their door and telling them they are filming in their street soon. Imagine their surprise when a polite question about the details led to the offhand answer: “IT'S ONLY GOOD OMENS”.

For those unaware, the City of Edinburgh Council has been working really hard on promoting the city for film and TV industry for a few years now (the effects of which we saw in S2), and has a set of very clear and very publicly available guidelines regarding the modus operandi here.

The Good Omens production has both large scale and a high impact on a specific location due to the crew size, amount of technology used, and requirement for crowd control in most of the exterior and interior scenes (e.g., bookshop, pub, or coffee shop windows), which is why not only the local authorities, but also residents were informed about the filming with an at least 8 days notice:

Ironically, I just had happened to have a trip here planned and a hotel booked within walking distance to the locations on the attached TM and parking plan map, so it would be a waste not to use this opportunity for the greater good of the fandom. Can’t stay long enough to see the actual crew, so unfortunately the hair photos will have to be made by someone else. Disappointing, I know. But there’s still a lot to be excited about!

According to the provided notice, the filming will happen within one working day with the required set-up planned for the day before, mostly in the afternoon hours. The attached map shows planned parking suspension and SYL dispensation on two streets close to the chosen locations, which is where the trailers and equipment vehicles will park:

Location One turns out to be, rather surprisingly, a cosy corner bookshop. The shop — one of the Edinburgh’s oldest surviving secondhand bookstores — is very small, but crammed with a wide ranging library of beautiful books to serve readers and collectors, including antiquarian true first editions and signed copies.

It’s giving Muriel’s sweet and whimsical charm, but the bits and pieces of the unpublished Good Omens sequel point out not towards Whickber Street, where the angel currently resides, but more towards a new in-universe location. Maybe one that will be opened in the future post-Second Coming, maybe one that will remind one of the characters about a home base of operations back in the heart of London’s Soho (and theirs— wait, who said that?).

Notice that the road closure includes north and south sides of the pavement visible in the last photo, so both indoor and outdoor shots could be expected:

Location Two seems a bit more complex, since it’s basically a skewed triangle consisting of one longer street and a short side street diverging from it. Conveniently for the filmmakers, the architecture here is uncharacteristic enough that it could be easily presented as British, Scottish, or even American. I’m personally a bit partial to the last option since it would make sense story- and budget-wise, especially now with the two people previously adamant on shooting the US scenes only on location there not on the production team anymore.

The contrasting structures and materials visible here easily offer background for multiple potential contexts and scenarios, so much in fact that it’s easy to imagine more than one scene being shot here for cost- and time-effective reasons. Some of the buildings along the cobbled road have the right look and feel for historical flashbacks, as you can see below. I find the two separate entrances next to each other particularly lovely:

A considerable part of the buildings in the area, however, belongs to a more modern complex that communicates a very different personality and function. With a bit of camera and post-production magic, it could transform to a wide range of settings — please let me know your thoughts and ideas if you have any!

Specific filming times and more detailed information are consciously not shared out of concern for the crew and cast members who clearly don’t want them to become public knowledge. Those of you who live in the area and might visit the set anyway, please don’t forget to make sure that your presence won’t bother them as well as other locals. And remember to keep any new photos and information contained with tags so that you won’t spoil it to the people who would rather wait for the movie itself!

[whoreforsexymen]

heeeey!!!! Im back with more jayce request. I would like to see jayce x reader with the prompts “Don’t act like you didn’t want to end up under me like this.” and “Shut up and take my fuckin’ cock.”. This is giving me like rivals or enemies to lovers where jayce and the reader have some heavy sexual tension under the surface. One day jayce just loses all patience and snaps and takes all of his stress and anger out on the reader

Sink Like A Stone | Jayce Talis

Prompt Fic (See, Prompt List)

Prompt(s) Used:

#2 "Don't act like you didn't want to end up under me like this."

#21 "Shut up and take my fuckin' cock."

Pairings: Jayce x Fem!Reader

Pronouns: Fem!Pronouns + Female Anatomy Descriptions

Rating: NSFW, 18+, MDNI !! You WILL be blocked!

Word Count: 8.3k (IDK what happened)

Tags: Songfic, INTENSE Smut, INTENSE Angst, VERY SLIGHT dub-con (it's not really dubcon--Jayce just get's really consumed by anger at one point--the unspoken consent is there) Hate-fucking, Lovers to Enemies then back to Lovers (??), Choking, Semi-Public Sex, Biting, Slapping, etc.

Summary: You and Jayce are ex-lovers. You hate him for plagiarizing and stealing your life's work, and he hates you for leaving him over what he considered a selfless act. After months of having not seen each other, you two get into a heated screaming match turned hate-fucking. However, Jayce may have let his emotions get the better of him.

Notes: OKOKOK, so. Be warned. This one is a DOOZY. I was in no way planning on adding 90% of the elements I added to this story. They just kind of happened.

(Special note to @milkbean69 !! I really took this and ran with it. If you want me to redo it in a much tamer way. Please let me know and I will.)

((((Side note, this is going to have to be a two-parter! Stay tuned for part two, which will be much softer.))))

‘We lie,

Cold.’

Jayce.

A name so simple, so unassuming, it would slip unnoticeably through anyone else’s mind. But to you, it holds weight. Each syllable, each breath that forms it, feels impossibly significant—a name that stirs something deep within you, a quiet echo of poignancy known only by you.

Your feelings towards the Jayce Talis you once knew were complex and hard to define. On one hand, you despised the way he insinuated himself into the council of Piltover’s most prestigious Academy, taking a seat you believed was rightfully yours—one you had fought tooth and nail to earn.

‘Dam up the river,

We can go, slow.’

His so-called “vision” for Piltover’s future, with that abominable Hextech nonsense, had directly sabotaged the plans you’d spent years perfecting. You may not have had the luxury of Arcane magic to ease trade, but you had crafted a much more practical blueprint to connect Piltover to the rest of Runeterra’s trading world.

Yet the moment Jayce and his fragile “partner” wielded their so-called “magic,” your ideas were dismissed, overlooked, and ultimately erased.

‘We don’t wanna,

Know.’

On the other hand, you had always considered him a friend—seemingly more at times—until the day he practically ripped the rug of your life’s work out from under your feet.

Not to mention he had the gall to call it his idea. “His” idea? Please. It was your idea, just re-wrapped in a fancy mystical package. You had worked on it together, after all. Jayce had spent countless hours rambling about the mysticism and potential of those tiny blue stones of his, insisting they could revolutionize everything you had ever strived to achieve. Never once did you imagine that, once he unlocked their power, he’d turn against you, abandoning the partnership and the vision you had once shared.

‘Dull down our senses,

Become numb.'

What kind of name was Hextech, anyhow? It felt devoid of sophistication, lacking both subtlety and the gravitas one might expect from something so profound. It didn’t quite capture the essence of what it was—an intricate fusion of magic and technology—nor did it convey any sense of elegance or purpose.

Although, you couldn’t deny that you often reminisced in memories of your life before his grandiose “discovery”—robbery, really— of Hextech—your idea.

‘We take our time

Ignoring all the signs

Living in fear of our lies

Never bad enough to break it

Or, good enough to feel right.’

You had spent the better portion of your youth with him, much of it tangled amidst bedsheets, consumed by a shared, desperate need to relinquish each other’s physical tensions.

‘Been in overtime,

Half our lives.’

Sometimes, you could still feel the softness of his touch, the warmth of his lips grazing your skin—and other, much more tender, places. You could easily recall how your body had ached for him at times, but even more painfully, how your heart had longed for him, too. A truth you never dared to utter aloud.

The absence of anything beyond those intense moments of passion never really crossed your mind during the thick of it all. You never questioned it, and in hindsight, you’re almost thankful you didn’t—especially after what he had done after all that time. All of the time spent together, collectively fantasizing over your dreams and aspirations of a better life for all citizens, and a better future for the next generations to come.

‘Under indecision,

We become so dependent.

On the rush,

Of the moment.’

The bitterness that had consumed your heart was unbearable now, and the thought of ever confessing your feelings to him seemed almost unfathomable—impossible to imagine how much worse it could have been for you now if you had.

By this point, you were acutely aware of how deeply you loathed him. Your physical desires had long since faded, especially since you hadn’t seen or spoken to him in months. You had even gone so far as to move to a place he couldn’t find, cutting off every trace of connection, and the bond you once had.

Your skin ached with longing for him, your body and soul craving his touch once more. Yet, no matter how intense the desire, you would never allow him a single opportunity to return to your life.

It was a painful contradiction to bear—hating him, yet craving him all the same. You felt trapped, consumed by hopelessness, unable to escape the turmoil inside.

‘Sanitize

My head.’

You hadn’t moved far—just to the other side of Piltover, away from The Academy, the council, and—most importantly—-Jayce, himself.. The distance was a great relief. In your day-to-day life, there was no real risk of encountering him, and that small sense of safety gave you some peace of mind.

However…

You often found yourself testing that peace, pushing the boundaries of the distance you’d created. You weren’t entirely sure why—maybe it was the deep, unresolved desperation for him, or perhaps a semi-conscious, self-destructive choice of yours.

‘Death murders

Everything in sight.’

Each night, you found yourself walking almost the entire length of Piltover, from your new home to the Hexgate monolith on the far end—the very place you had fought so hard to escape.

Seeing the towering structure always left you with a deep, melancholic thrum in your chest. It represented everything you had once hoped for, everything you had worked and slaved over, now reduced to rubble by its mere presence.

‘Beneath the rip in the wind

The pillar push you aside.’

That tower stood as an unyielding symbol of betrayal, a constant reminder of the anger and anguish that had shattered your world at the mercy of Jayce’s hands.

‘If I make way

I can taste your sigh.

Just like the cannibal amp

It knows sound is size.’

On your nightly walks, you would make your way down the stone pier that lead to the water, your footsteps echoing in the quiet. When you reached the end, you’d grasp the railing that kept people from tumbling over the cliff’s edge, gluing yourself to the present moment.

‘Push me to

The brink, I said

Well that bitch

Is a creep

It tried to know what I think.’

There, you’d gaze up at the tower, lost in thought—re-evaluating and wondering how differently your life might have unfolded if Jayce hadn’t betrayed you—-if he hadn’t stolen your idea and torn everything apart.

‘To breathe out passion

Or suck in fate

You think the world was made

To wield your weight

And bleed out?’

Tonight was no different. Here you were, hood drawn—- hands shoved deep in your pockets—-your bodice pulled tight as you hunched in quiet disdain, eyes locked on nothing but the ground that passed underfoot.

Your expression was sour as you traced every wrong turn your life had taken to bring you here. Your chest felt heavy, as if the weight of it all pressed itself down upon you out of sheer spite.

Your mind buzzed, a relentless whirl of painful memories spinning in a dizzying menagerie inside your skull.

When your eyes met the stark, hauntingly familiar edifice, a sharper pang stabbed deep beneath your chest, more intense than you were accustomed to by now.

You weren’t sure why, of all nights, tonight seemed to bring out the most intense surge of feelings—especially since you found yourself unusually consumed by your thoughts this time around.

Especially since, long before Jayce had perfected the Hexgate, the two of you would often come here to find solace in the sound of the waves and the crisp air of the sea. You’d toss stones into the water, or compete to see who could throw them the furthest. The bittersweet memory of how often Jayce would taunt you for your lack of coordination only deepened the pain and anger digging at you.

You couldn’t control the mindless, almost reflexive way your body reacted to such intense feelings, in combination with the familiarity of the location. Without a second thought, your hand reached for a nearby rock, and before you even registered what you were doing, you hurled it as hard as you could toward the tower.

The tower, distant and perched far out in the water, seemed almost unreachable, and your rock barely made it halfway before splashing down into the water with a sound that felt like it mocked you in the same way Jayce had. You almost felt compelled to throw another rock, driven by some irrational need to make the first one atone for mocking you—despite the fact that it, like all other rocks, had no sentience to answer for its actions.

You gave in to the irrational impulse, bending down to pick up another rock, your mind still fixated on the need to make the previous one pay. But as your fingers closed around the stone, something in the corner of your vision made you pause. A pair of shoes—familiar, yet unknown—caught your eye. Shoes that were attached to feet. Feet that led up to legs. Legs that belonged to the hips and torso of an individual you couldn’t see beyond your hood.

The rock slipped from your hand, forgotten, as your attention shifted entirely to the figure standing behind you. You hadn’t heard a single indicating noise that you had been followed, or approached from behind.

The presence was sudden, unnerving, and yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to be afraid. If you were anywhere else, anywhere but Piltover, you’d be terrified. But here, in this ”city of wonders”, you couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow, you were still safe.

If anything, it was probably an enforcer, here to reprimand you for throwing rocks in the first place. You straightened up, brushing the thought aside, and turned to face whoever had been silently looming behind you.

As you spun around, you realized—this wasn’t an enforcer.

No, far from it.

The person standing there was more terrifying than any enforcer could ever be, and certainly more annoying, infuriating, and enraging to look upon, for lack of better words to describe the instant rush of wrath that overwhelmed you.

‘Am I the reason

That you can’t look past

Your future self?’

“Your aim is still pretty shit, sunshine.” He says plainly, the nickname he had always pegged you with burning in your ears.

Your blood ran cold as your eyes locked onto the disgustingly smug expression on his face. Every hair on your body stood on end, a shiver crawling up your spine as you stood face to face with the man you now regarded with nothing but utter disdain.

You freeze, unable to muster a response, your mind clouded with a storm of rage and contemptment.

Jayce’s gaze lingers on you, almost—dare you think it—in a way that seemed concerned, longing, and worst of all—-caring.

What a hypocrite. How dare he look at you like he actually cares?

‘Got me believin’

You’ve been stuck

And glued in frequent doubt.’

“Don’t give me that look,” you snap, your fingers twitching, aching to throw a rock at his face just to make him eat his words. For a split second, you actually consider it—and you’re sure Jayce can feel exactly what’s running through your mind as he observes the way your eyes flicker between his face, and the stone you had left behind.

���What look?” he asks, concern surging through his expression again.

Did this guy have a death wish, or was he really just that oblivious? Either way, you could crack instantaneously.

“That look. The fake concern,” you snap, your eyes dropping, fists tightening, teeth grinding.

“Fake…?” He pauses, clearly lost in thought as he crosses his arms over his chest, the hint of offense hanging off his words.

You fight the urge to lash out, to make him feel something stronger than pain.

‘I know the feeling

‘Cause I can’t keep

My mind open now.’

“Yes, fake, Jayce. As in insincere. Artificial,” you spit, taking a sharp breath.

“Ersatz,” you add, the word a bitter aftertaste.

Your words cut through the air with a venomous cadence, each syllable sharp and biting, a distasteful attempt to tear through him.

Jayce looked completely dumbfounded, as if his mind had been wiped clean. The stark look of gears no longer grinding in his brain was almost comical. He was daft, no doubt. You felt a twinge of pride prod your ego upon this realization.

You couldn’t bear to stay here, not this close to him, not after everything. The thought that he was only here to twist the knife deeper into your wounds was almost more than you could handle. Your emotions, raw and overwhelming, had already drained you, and you were done. You didn’t want to give him another moment—no chance for him to make things worse, or worse still, to somehow try and redeem himself. As if he ever could.

Steeling yourself, you gather what little dignity you have left and turn away, keeping your face carefully composed. As you pass him, you deliberately knock your shoulder against his, ricocheting his shoulders in the process, a silent and singular act of defiance as you walk away.

As if to intentionally make matters worse, Jayce turns after you, his hand reaching out to grab your wrist. He makes contact, swiftly pulling you back towards him.

“___, wait—” He begins, but his words are cut short as your hand slams into his cheek. You hadn’t necessarily meant to hit him, but the motion was as instinctive as throwing the rocks—your hand connecting with the flesh of his cheek before you even had a chance to stop it—not that you necessarily would have wanted to.

The way you had wound up the slap was only amplified by the sudden pull of his hand grabbing you mid-stride, forcing you back toward him. The momentum aided the force with which you struck him.

The weight of what you’d just done hit you all at once—grief, anger, relief, all crashing together. A small part of you, the part that still cared for him, was flooded with guilt. But the darker parts of you—those that hated him, that had longed to hurt him—felt a twisted satisfaction. Besides, it was his own fault that he had grabbed you.

You’d wanted to feel his skin beneath your hands, after all, and in an oddly perfect way, this had been the way to satiate that desire.

Jayce instantly released his grip on your wrist, his hand moving to cup the spot where your slap had left its mark.

“Ah…” he groaned, wincing as he cupped the stinging flesh. His eyes snapped shut, the pain unmistakably written all over his face.

You couldn’t tear your gaze away as he stood there, his hand pressed against the raw, reddened skin of his cheek, the mark of your slap still vivid and angry. The sight of it made your chest tighten, but you couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was you were feeling. What should you feel in a moment like this? That was the question you could neither answer or shake.

You had already acknowledged, in a quiet corner of your mind, that there was a strange satisfaction in lashing out, even if it was tangled with the thorny weight of your own hurt. There was a cruel sort of release in it, one that both thrilled and disturbed you in equal measure. Your stomach churned as you fought to suppress the abhorrent feeling of shame that crept up on you.

You could feel your instincts urging you to escape—to run, to put distance between yourself and this raw, uncomfortable moment. But you chose not to listen. The urge to flee warred with something else, something deeper, a curiosity that had begun to take root. You wanted to see how this would unfold, to witness how this tension would resolve, if it would resolve at all. The satisfaction you had felt from that sharp, ringing slap was undeniable. Maybe it had been a way to expel some of the pain that had been building inside you for so long. Maybe, just maybe, it was worth confronting whatever came next, just to relieve yourself of that heaviness, even if only for a moment.

‘Make up your mind,

We’re running out of time.’

Your heart sunk as you saw the essence of betrayal soon sweep across his face. Yet, simultaneously, that added to the anger you felt. He, of all people, felt betrayal? After the way he betrayed you? That look of his repulsed you.

He looked at you, disbelief written all over his face, his expression a mixture of shock and hurt. His hand lingered on his cheek, still tender from the sting of your slap, as though he couldn’t quite grasp the reality of the moment. The look he gave you was one of genuine confusion, as if he couldn’t fathom why you were so consumed by anger.

“___…” His voice cracked slightly, heavy with emotion, but still full of that familiar, passionate lilt, the kind that used to make your heart race. When he whispered your name—softly, almost reverently—it was as if the sound of it pained him.

‘Doubt is failure

By design.’

His eyes searched yours, full of questions that hung in the air, unanswered. Why had you struck him? Why this sudden violence? The pain in his gaze only seemed to stoke the fire inside you, making the anger flare even hotter, more reckless.

“Don’t look at me like that. Like you don’t know exactly what that was for,” you spat, each word sharp, each syllable dripping with a tang that tasted like metal on your tongue. But as the words left you, the anger morphed into something far more fragile, far more devastating. Your heart seemed to crack with the weight of it, the betrayal, the hopelessness. The tears welled up, blurring your vision as your chest tightened with sorrow.

“Why… why are you so blind to everything you’ve done?” you choked out.

“To everything we had… everything you destroyed… just so you could chase your fucking dreams?”

Your fists balled at your sides, the muscles in your arms trembling from the effort of keeping control, even though your voice shook with the strain of holding back the tidal wave of emotion threatening to break free.

‘I’m burning up

Can only take

So much.’

“What about my dreams, Jayce? What about our dreams?” you cried, your voice rising, your words feeling like they could burn everything in their path. Every inch of you ached—your body, your heart, your soul—all of it pulled taut like a string ready to snap. You didn’t know how much longer you could keep it in.

“What made sealing your own future—your destiny—more important than what we built together?” you demanded, the question sitting in the air between you like a dagger.

“Why was your ambition more sacred than our bond? More sacred than us?”

Your voice cracked on the last word, your breath coming in short, jagged gasps. The tears spilled over, leaving hot trails down your face, but you stood your ground, unwilling to back down. This—this pain, this heartbreak—was something you needed to admit, needed him to hear.

“How dare you steal my idea. How dare you take the credit, and disparage it with your stupid, fucking, magic.” You were shouting now, your voice ringing through the night air, raw and unfiltered, the weight of your anger shattering the silence that had settled over everything. The contrast between your fury and the stillness of the evening was jarring—your words felt like they were tearing through the quiet, reverberating off the walls of the world around you.

“Your idea?!” he exclaimed in response, his voice rising sharply, cutting through your tirade. He stepped forward, closing the distance between you in a few purposeful strides, his figure towering over you, his height and presence suddenly far more imposing than you remembered. His broad shoulders blocked the space between you, his stance firm, as if challenging you to face him head-on.

‘I know you

Can feel it

It’s catching up

It’s getting too heavy

For both of us.’

“Since when was it your idea?” His words were fast, biting with frustration, and he was unrelenting as he moved closer, his eyebrows knit together in upset.

“‘Cause the way I remember it—we both wanted change. We both wanted to make Piltover a better, more advanced city.” His voice was now an angry force, his face craning down to meet yours, his eyes sharp, trying to drill the point home. He wasn’t asking anymore—he was demanding you understand.

But what hit you most in that moment wasn’t just his words. It was the way his anger had suddenly shifted everything. For the first time in your life, you felt small compared to him. You had never seen him like this—not even annoyed, not in all the time you had spent together. Jayce had always been the steady one, the calm, the voice of reason. But now, his fury felt like a storm—intense, unpredictable, and completely foreign. The force of it left you unsettled, and taken aback, to say the least.

You didn’t know how to react to this. His anger was like a tidal wave, knocking the ground out from under you, and for the first time, you realized just how much power he had over you—how much he could command just by his sheer presence. The towering figure in front of you, his jaw clenched, eyes burning with emotion, made your chest tighten. You didn’t know what to do with this. His anger was new, and in some way, it was almost more frightening than anything you had ever faced.

‘We lie

Cold.’

You were baffled, not just by the words he was saying, but by the way he was saying them—like a person you didn’t recognize.

You parted your lips, ready to continue the tirade that had built up in your chest, but before you could get another word out, Jayce’s voice cut you off, raw and jagged. He didn’t give you a chance to speak, his frustration spilling over, each word more desperate than the last.

“You left me. Here. Alone.” His voice cracked, trembling under the weight of everything he, too, left unsaid, considering how you fled before he ever got a chance to explain himself. It wasn’t just anger in his tone anymore; it was pain. The kind that came from a place so deep you couldn’t ignore it, no matter how hard you tried.

“I did what I thought was best for us.” He stepped closer, his voice rising in volume, matching the intensity of your own.

“I proved what I was trying to prove. For us. For our collective aspirations.” The words came faster now, fueled by the overwhelming rush of emotion that was beginning to boil over in him.

“I worked my ass off to make sure that, with the help of my Hextech, your trade routes could flourish,” he spat, his anger now matching yours, raw and unrelenting. His face was inches from yours, his breath hot as he glared down at you.

“I won’t stand here and let you blame me, let you hate me, for acting out of what I thought was selflessness at the time. I’ve gone to bat for you, countless times, to make sure you got the credit you deserved.”

His own fists clenched at his sides, the strain of his words almost too much to bear.

“But you ran. You left, assuming my only goal was to use you, when in reality, all I ever tried to do was support you.”

His words slammed into you like a physical blow, and for a second, you were paralyzed by the force of them. But then the anger surged again, hot and insistent. Support you? The bitterness twisted in your gut, and before you even thought about it, the words exploded from your mouth.

“Support me?!” You shouted, the sound ringing through the night like a bell, sharp and accusing.

“That’s what you call abandoning me to take a seat in the highest of towers?” You could feel the heat of your own fury rising to meet his, and without thinking, you shoved both hands into his chest, pushing him back with all the force you could muster.

Jayce stumbled backward, caught off guard by the sheer force of your anger, and you weren’t done. You shoved him again, harder this time, your hands pressing against his chest until he hit the railing behind him with a loud clang. The sound echoed in the air, but you didn’t care.

“In the council, no less?! Leaving me here to fend for myself in your fucking shadow?!” Your voice was hoarse now, each scream louder and more desperate than the last. You pushed him once more, as if trying to push the weight of everything you felt, everything you couldn’t hold onto anymore, into him.

The tears you’d held back were streaming freely down your face, but there was no stopping them now. The hurt, the betrayal—it all came pouring out in that single moment. The fury and heartbreak swirled together, a force you couldn’t control, and all you could do was scream at him until your voice gave out, until he understood just how much you had suffered because of his choices.

‘Dam up the river,

We can go, slow.’

Jayce had finally reached his limit. The shouting, the anger, the constant back and forth—it was all too much. He could see now that no matter what he said, nothing would make you stop. The argument had spiraled into something beyond reason, and every word he spoke only seemed to fuel your fire. You weren’t listening anymore; you were just lashing out, consumed by rage.

Enough was enough.

‘Dull down our senses,

Become numb.’

When you shoved him again, anger blinding you, Jayce reacted quickly. His patience had worn thin, and he wasn’t about to let this go any further.

The next time your hands came at him, he caught your wrists with a swift, forceful motion, crossing them tightly over each other. Before you could react, he shoved your arms into your chest, locking you in place. Then, without warning, he spun you around, pulling you harshly against him so that your back was pressed to his chest. His grip tightened, his arms like iron bands, preventing you from thrashing away.

‘Mirin myself

All by myself.’

“Stop.” His voice was low, sharp, and commanding, vibrating against your ear as his chest caged you in. You could feel the heat of his body, the raw tension in every inch of him as he held you close, his strength completely overpowering your attempts to break free.

“___, for fucks sake! Stop!” He demands, one of his enormous hands moving to take hold of both of your wrists while the other clamped down around your jaw, bringing your face towards your shoulder, where his own chin rested in this position.

Jayce had no choice. He knew how stubborn you were, how deeply you clung to your anger when you were hurt, and how you’d never stop until you’d worn yourself out—if you ever did. But right now, he couldn’t wait for that to happen. He couldn’t let you run away from him anymore.

With one sharp, decisive movement, his lips crashed into yours. It was hard, hungry, demanding—a complete storm of sensation that left no room for resistance. Your eyes went wide in shock, your breath hitching as you tried to pull back, but he followed, his mouth pressing harder against yours, refusing to let you break free.

‘Feel the caress, so sweet

Done by my hand.’

You gasped, the sound caught between your lips, and before you could protest, his kiss deepened, his tongue slipping past your lips, twisting with yours in a way that both startled and confused you. You cried out into his mouth, the noise muffled, as his hold on you tightened, his body pressing closer to yours, grounding you in place.

Every part of you wanted to push him away, to shout, to keep fighting, but Jayce’s kiss was relentless—an anchor pulling you deeper into silence. He wasn’t pulling back, not until you stopped fighting, until you let go of that anger long enough to breathe.

And though you still burned with fury, something about the way he held you, the way his presence swallowed you whole, made it harder and harder to keep struggling.

No matter how much you had longed for his touch, how desperately you had yearned for him to kiss you like this again, you couldn’t bring yourself to accept it in a moment like this. Not when everything inside you was still burning with anger and hurt.

‘Polishing this frame of mind,

Jacked it up an ax to grind.’

You fought against him, your body stiff and tense, desperately trying to pull away from his overwhelming presence. Each movement was a silent refusal, a stubborn resistance to the way his kiss was pulling at your very core.

‘Duck n’ dodge,

Stay unaligned.'

But it was futile. You were already drained, your energy spent from the crying, the shouting, the endless cycle of rage that had led you here. As his lips pressed more insistently against yours, the fight in you began to falter. The need to escape, the impulse to run, slowly began to dissolve with every second his lips lingered on yours, and his tongue explored the depths of your mouth. What remained was the sharp sting of your rage, but even that felt like it was starting to ebb.

Gradually, your body softened, the tension in your muscles melting away. The fight left you, piece by piece, until you sighed against his mouth, the sound muffled but unmistakable. With a subtle shift, your head tilted just enough to give him more room, more access, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to stop fighting. The kiss deepened, and in that quiet surrender, Jayce released a long, relieved breath, sensing your body finally easing into his touch.

‘My recognition face

Some get withered

Some get fried.’

You kissed him back after great hesitation, your lips and tongue moving urgently against his, as if you were trying to make up for every lost moment in a single, heated breath. There was no holding back now. The memories, the longing, everything that had been buried deep inside you erupted all at once, and your mouth moved hungrily against his, each movement a desperate attempt to relive the intimacy you’d once shared.

‘I know we talked about

The shit we did

Each time.’

His grip on your wrists faltered, weakening as you started to turn toward him fully. The distance between you closed rapidly, and soon, your chest was pressed flush against his, your body responding to his presence with an intensity you couldn’t control. As your hands were freed, they instinctively traveled up to his face, your thumb brushing over the spot where you’d struck him only minutes before, feeling the remnants of your anger there, now mingling with something else.

‘Polishing this frame of mind

Jacked it up an ax to grind.’

You cupped his face, fingers digging into his jaw, pulling him even closer as if trying to erase the distance between you, to melt into him and make up for the time and pain that had come before. The urgency in your movements was raw and frantic, a wordless plea to feel everything at once—to collapse the anger, the longing, and the need that had built up inside you into this single, desperate connection.

‘Duck n’ dodge

Stay unaligned

My recognition face.’

His hands roamed over your body, searching for any way to pull you closer, his touch growing more insistent as he settled them on your hips, pulling you into him. The physical closeness only heightened the tension, the desire, but also something darker—something that still lingered between you—lust.

Though you no longer felt the need to escape, your rage simmered just below the surface, burning deep in your chest. It wasn’t gone, not by a long shot. It still gnawed at you, demanding to be felt, demanding some kind of reckoning. Part of you wanted to make him feel it, make him understand the depth of your pain. You wanted him to know what you had been through all this time.

‘Am I the reason

That you can’t

Look past your future self?’

Your tongue retracted for a moment, and you pressed your teeth against his bottom lip, the bite sharp enough to sting. It was a flash of anger, mixed with the heat of desire, and it caught Jayce off guard. You had shared passionate moments before, but nothing quite like this—nothing that carried this much intensity. He flinched at the sudden sharpness, but in that moment, something in him sparked, that familiar fire of tension growing even stronger.

If that’s what it would take to break the tension, then he’d oblige.

Jayce’s hand tangled into your hair, pulling you closer, his grip tightening. The sensation of your hair in his hand, the pressure, sent a breathless sound escaping from you—something between a gasp and a soft exhale. It was involuntary, the sound mixing with the heat building between you. Jayce had always longed to hear that from you, to feel that connection, and now that it was happening, he couldn’t stop.

For far too long, Jayce had denied himself any form of physical connection. Since you left, he’d been forced to bury his desire for you deep inside, locking it away with a painful awareness that nothing—no touch, no embrace—could compare to what he had shared with you. Each passing day, he became more acutely aware of the emptiness that lingered, knowing that any contact with anyone else would only serve as a stark reminder of the craving that burned for you.

‘Got me believin’

You’ve been stuck

And glued in frequent doubt.’

He tightened his grip, drawing another soft sound from you, the mix of pleasure and tension in the air thickening. His focus was solely on you now, on the way your body responded, on the sounds you made, and how this moment—this raw, unguarded moment—was pulling both of you closer to the unspoken lust that couldn’t be denied a moment longer.

You can’t help but let out a filthy little moan, whimpering along with it.

A shameless, guttural moan, that sent Jayce’s head into a spiral. He had been beyond desperate to coax those kinds of noises out of you for what felt like too long of an eternity. He was in no position to deny himself the opportunity to keep drawing them out of you.

His hands curled into a fist as he yanked on your hair, whimpers flying out of you like a flock of birds.

If you wanted to fight dirty, Jayce was game.

“Fuck..” He breathes out—eager, like a starved man who stumbled upon a banquet— as he pulls away from your lips, immediately pressing them against the skin of your neck he had exposed from his grip on your locks. He let his teeth drag along the skin, biting and harshly sucking on it in several places. Your reaction was deathly arousing. The slightly pained cries that flowed beside ones of pleasure sent Jayce’s burning temptation into orbit.

He knew you needed him in the way he had once gotten used to providing for you. His cock throbbed beneath his slacks, desperate to break free from the confines of the cloth that kept it contained.

It was arguably harder than it had ever been, his anger and inability to have you for so long adding fuel to the fire of his pure incessant need to bury himself deep inside you.

‘I know the feeling

Cause I can’t keep

My mind open now.’

Oh, how you both longed to be connected like that again. In the way all lovers know well—their unspoken second nature.

He ruts his hips against yours, your own body responding instinctively by meeting them in their attempt to seek friction.

You both emit low grunts at the new sensation, satiating the tension for now.

You felt as though you were being scorched from within, the intense heat of your desire and simmering rage intertwining, each stoking the other in a relentless blaze. Every nerve burned with an insatiable hunger, a craving that went beyond pleasure, pulling you deeper into a whirlwind of both ecstasy and agony.

You needed more—not just the thrill of sensation, but the raw, cathartic pain that seemed to heighten the fire within you. Your soul ached for an outlet, something that would satisfy the chaotic tension, where your lust and frustration could collide, erupting into something that might finally ease the raging storm inside.

You snaked your arms around his neck, giving a small jump into him as you anchored onto him, wrapping your legs around his waist. He hums darkly in reaction to the sudden motion, his hands releasing their clasp on your hair to instead latch onto the bottom of your ass—-supporting you as you clung to him.

Jayce’s head shot up from it’s spot between your head and chest, moving to a new vantage point in order to scan the area. He was a man with a mission.

A mission to uncover the perfect place, somewhere secluded and unremarkable—a refuge hidden from the world where he could channel the fury between you with ruthless intensity. It had to be a spot where nothing could interrupt the raw, unfiltered release of tension—a place where every movement, every act, could be as drastic and unforgiving as the anger that surged through both of you.

Needless to say—and in an extremely simple turn of phrase—-He needed to fuck the rage out of you— and he would stop at nothing to do so.

After a few tense moments, Jayce focused, his eyes landing on the perfect hidden corner in all of Piltover. His grip tightened on you as he began to lead you toward it. The alleyway was small and shadowed, tucked between two shops that had long since closed for the night. The buildings on either side pressed in tightly, their walls forming a dark, narrow passage that swallowed any light. The darkness obscured it from street lamps and passersby, though Jayce hardly seemed at all concerned about the possibility of wandering eyes, anyway.

The alley itself was already tucked away from the main streets, but the particular spot his intentions were set on was even more concealed—through the alley and to the right, behind the buildings entirely, not just in between.

Overhanging eaves, garbage bins and scattered crates cloaked the area, creating a thick, impenetrable shadow. It was a secluded pocket, completely hidden from view, untouched by the faintest glimmer from the street beyond.

A perfect haven of obscurity, though the lack of any inviting scenery was hardly worth a second thought. The cracked cobblestones, the faint smell of damp earth, rotting trash, and the forgotten clutter of the alley seemed irrelevant. In a place like this, where shadows held sway, scenery had no claim. Nothing mattered but the raw, pressing heat of the moment.

You sank your teeth into his neck, your hands exploring his shoulders with a quiet, persistent need. He groaned beneath your bite, his un-abating lust taking the lead furthermore, as he harshly slammed your back against the abrasive stone walls of the building. His mouth was quick to covet yours once more, lips voraciously seeking stimulation from them.

Your sensual tango of lips pressing against each other, hips grating and rutting into each other’s carried out, Jayce beginning to make quick work of exposing you to the elements, his cock still hard as ever as it brushed against your clit beneath the layers of clothing. You can’t help but whimper out in response.

With the new advantage of pinning you to the stone wall—-combined with the leverage of your legs still around his waist—-his hands grew eager, rushing to tear your blouse apart. His fingers slid between the buttons of the opening, pushing through the seam before he gripped tight and wrenched it apart. Several buttons flew free, briefly distracting from the sharp bite of the cold air against the newly exposed skin.

You couldn’t help but whine into the cavern of his mouth, the rough display of lust redirecting all of your aching and longing straight to your clit. It throbbed with intent, a desperate reminder that you needed more friction. You greedily rolled your hips into his, yielding another low, filthy grunt from Jayce.

“Fuck.” He pants against your mouth, hands kneading at your breasts, cock twitching beneath his trousers.

Oh, how he longed to revisit the memories of your past encounters, to re-enact the acts of pleasure he had learned to bring you. But in such a moment, he couldn’t bring himself to slow down. As much as he yearned to please you in the ways he’d spent so much time discovering, there was no time, now. The urgency of the present situation demanded everything from him. If he didn’t bury his cock deep within you, right now, and fuck you senseless, he’d probably keel over.

This was his last chance. His only chance to rewrite your history.

‘Am I the reason,

That you can’t look past,

Your future self?’

Without a second’s hesitation, Jayce tore your legs from his waist, practically dropping you to the ground. In one swift motion, he flipped you around, pressing your cheek forcefully into the cold stone wall with one hand. You groan out, the harsh force of his motions prodding your deep-seated anger once more. His chin reclaims its resting point on your shoulder, teeth claiming your earlobe between them as he pressed his mouth to your ear. You groan out of sudden distaste for the new position.

”Don’t act like you didn’t want to end up under me like this.” He growls into it, the words viscerally stabbing at your clit, earning a thirsty cry from you.

He spread your legs with his feet, his free hand clambering to release his throbbing cock from it’s fabric prison. He yanked your pants down, the sound of his belt clinking sending shivers up your spine as your cunt pulsated in anticipation.

You were beyond wet—the word a dull description of the way your cunt was absolutely sopping, dripping, and practically gushing for him.

Despite your evident arousal, you weren’t used to things happening so fast. You began to protest as your back arched against his brawny, bold, and burly chest.

“Jayce— wait!” You started to say, before his teeth clamped down onto your earlobe with increased vigor, your words fading into torrid moans as a result.

He pulls your underwear to the side, fist pumping his deprived cock before he lined himself up with your soaking cunt.

“Shut up and take my fuckin’ cock.” He barked.

Before you even had a chance to breathe, he plowed into you, curling his hips up to press flush against your ass. You had no choice but to brace yourself. Your hands flew to the cold stone wall, gripping tightly to keep from collapsing under the force of it all.

The sound that tore from deep within your chest was raw, loud enough to make anyone within a hundred feet of the building take concerned notice. Anyone outside of you and Jayce would have assumed you were being murdered.

It was a deliciously vile sound, thick with want, neediness, desperation, and all the emotions you had yet resolved.

“Fuck!” You scream, tears stinging in your eyes as Jayce began slamming up into you with at an absolutely merciless pace. He wasted no time by giving you a single moment to adjust, knowing full well the rough nature was exactly what the situation called for. If he didn’t give this his all, everything was at stake. Or so he thought.

His thrusts were, at their core, crude—filthy, vulgar.

Lascivious.

They had an animalistic quality, one that attested to his own desires, and the hurtful longing he had harbored for you.

Jayce grunted, huffing out as he ruthlessly snapped his hips against the flesh of your ass. He plunged his teeth into the skin of your shoulder, the hand that held your face against the stone withdrew from you. Jayce pulled it beneath your arm, wrapping around your chest to imperviously grip at your breast, using his hold on it to further aid in the force with which he was bucking into you.

His other hand moved to your neck, fingers tightening around it with a possessive grip. The pressure forced the air from your lungs, and you gasp, the sound barely escaping as your breath becomes shallow. You squirm, struggling to breathe, but his hold doesn’t loosen. Instead, it pulls you in deeper, mixing fury with hunger. Each ragged breath, each flicker of resistance only seems to make it worse, the heat between you both building in the space where anger and desire collide.

“Fuck you.” He spat out in sync with his thrusts.

“Fuck.” —thrust.

“You.” —thrust.

“For.” —thrust.

“Leaving.” Thrust, thrust, thrust.

The words he spat out were coated in intent, each one seething with the same anger that simmered inside of him. The way he moved, pounding into you, was frantic, his hips driven by a fire that seemed to consume him.

‘Got me believin’

You’ve been

Stuck and glued

In frequent doubt.’

You could feel it, the heat coursing through his veins with every thrust—his body shaking with the intensity of it. There was nothing controlled about the way he gripped you, no tenderness. Just a reckless, furious need, each movement angry, as if he were fighting to push the rage out of his body and into you.

His soul had been set ablaze, and all you could do was feel the burn.

“Agh—“ You pant, air still desperate to escape your lungs as he clenched your throat.

“F-fuck you for—-Pretending like—-you care.” You choke out.

Jayce’s blood boils, his grip on your throat tightening beyond the point of care.

“Pretending like I care?” He pants as well, exhausting himself from the force with which he was railing his cock up into you.

“I care. More than—anyone—sunshine.” He very well shouts, words still in sync with his thrusts, on exhaling with each. He was absolutely plowing you now, the familiar nickname cutting through the air that surrounded you.

You were groaning out in pleasure and pain, the contrasting feelings mixing into one as he continued his relentless assault on your cervix.

“T-Then why—-why couldn’t you just—-“ Your lungs begged for air.

“Love me—-like I love—- you?” You gasp, your voice barely audible above the hunger for air.

‘I know the feeling

Cause I can’t

Keep my mind

Open now.’

Jayce’s movements stopped abruptly, his hands yanking away from you as if struck by a sudden realization. You gasped, breath catching painfully in your throat, stumbling back into the wall, your body desperate for air that was slow to come. The intensity that had fueled him moments before seemed to drain in an instant, leaving you gasping in the silence.

Jayce felt an overwhelming wave of guilt crash over him, sharp and suffocating, like a bucket of ice-cold water being poured straight over his head. It hit him all at once, a gut-punch of realization that mirrored the guilt he had seen on your face earlier when you slapped him—raw, unfiltered, and impossible to escape. His chest tightened, a heaviness settling in his stomach as he stood there, frozen, unable to look at you.

His hips stilled, his body rigid as the anger that had driven him to this point shifted, replaced by something softer—-sadder. His heart felt heavy in his chest, sinking like a stone in water.

All that was left in the alley was the erratic—-uneven sound of your breathing, each inhale a struggle, sweat slicking your skin, catching the light of the moon in fragile glimmers. The silence stretched out, thick with unspoken tension, the weight of what had just transpired hanging between you like a shroud, heavy and unresolved.

His mind was a blur, thoughts scattered and jumbled, short-circuiting in a way that left him dizzy. He couldn’t make sense of the guilt spiraling through him, the crushing weight of having crossed a line he hadn’t even seen until it was too late. Until you said what you had said.

That you loved him.

He removes his chest from your back, pulling himself out of you in the process.

Jayce reached for you, his hands trembling as he gently grasped your shoulders, his touch softer than it had been all night. His fingers barely brushed your skin, as if afraid to make contact after everything that had just happened. With a careful, almost reverent motion, he spun you around to face him. The moment your eyes met, his chest seemed to cave in on itself, a sickening weight settling there.

His heart felt like it had physically dropped, plummeting to the pit of his stomach with a sickening thud. The sight of you, tears streaking down your face, the raw anguish in your expression—it shattered him. Every ounce of anger, every moment of fury that had driven him earlier seemed like a distant memory in the face of the heartbreak he had caused.

How could he have been so reckless? The thought screamed in his mind, impossible to silence. The guilt that gripped him now was suffocating, crushing. He’d seen your pain in the heat of the moment, but now it hit him full force—really hit him. The tears in your eyes weren’t just a reminder of what he’d done; they were a reflection of how far he had pushed you, how little he had cared in the frenzy of his own anger.

And now, standing in front of you, he couldn’t undo it. All he could do was stare at the damage he had inflicted, helpless, terrified of what he’d become.

“___…” He whispers.

[inkydelusions]

think you can do it better? - 2.5k

summary: some members of the team learn about your boyfriend, and it breaks spencer’s heart. luckily for his, he’s an asshole, which means he gets a second chance to fix the one mistake he regrets the most. c.warning: fem!bau! reader. mentions of cheating (not spencer, don't worry). he does behave like an idiot in here tho. but then he fixes it so it's okay. it gets a bit intense at the end, but i wouldn’t go as far as to call it steamy or smutty (some heavy kissing and spencer being a hot nerd). a/n: i'm pretty sure this is the first time i write about reader and spencer kissing, which is funny that it took me this long. anyway, enjoy!!

hope you like it <3 likes & reblogs are appreciated !!

you throw your phone across the table with an exasperated sigh, immediately drawing everyone’s attention.

“woah, okay,” morgan is the first one to react. “what’s wrong, princess?”

what’s wrong is that you had a terrible fight with your boyfriend a couple of hours ago, right before heading out for drinks with some of your team. since then, you’ve been trying to reach him, desperate to talk and fix things, but he’s been ignoring you. like the man-child you’re starting to realize he really is.

“it’s nothing,” you say, taking a long gulp from your drink. morgan whistles as the line of liquor in your glass gets lower and lower until it’s completely empty. emily raises her eyebrows, equal parts impressed and concerned.

“really?” she asks. “because the way you inhaled that drink makes it seem like it’s definitely something.”

you sigh again, your eyes drifting from hers to morgan’s, then finally to spencer’s. when they invited you out tonight, you didn’t exactly imagine opening up about your trainwreck of a relationship, especially not in front of spencer.

as much as you value his friendship, he’s the last person you want to discuss this with. not after what happened the last time you two had a heart-to-heart.

“come on, kid,” morgan presses. “you know you can trust us.”

of course you do. you trust these people with your life, every single day.

sighing, you finally admit, “it’s my boyfriend.”

spencer knows better than anyone the power words can hold. that awareness has helped him solve some of the best cases of his career. but he did not expect three simple words to hit him so hard. as per usual, he’s staring at your mouth as you speak, you he sees it perfectly, in slow motion even: the way your lips purse together when you say my, their round shape and the scrape of your teeth against your lower lip as you follow up with the word boyfriend.

how can one word carry so much weight? he feels it slam into his chest, shoulders sinking under the impact.

“what?” emily sputters, nearly choking on her beer.

“since when do you have a boyfriend?” morgan asks.

“six months. a friend introduced us at her birthday party.”

“how the hell did you keep it from us that long?” morgan asks. “we must be some of the worst profilers in history.”

you smile at that. “you’re not. i’m just very good at keeping my personal life… well, personal.”

spencer could only stare, wondering how the hell he’d managed to miss the signs. he had noticed you had started paying more attention to your phone in the past few months, but he only assumed that, since you had changed to a more modern model, you had been absorbed by technology like everyone else around him. you had started wearing more makeup, and, overall, you now payed more attention to your personal image. thinking about you doing all of that for another man makes a new kind of feeling bubble up inside his chest, one he’s not proud of.

“so, what’s wrong? stormy day in paradise?” morgan bumps his shoulder against yours from where he’s seating right next to you on the booth.

you trace a finger through the small puddle of condensation emily’s glass left on the table, biting your lip, feeling three sets of eyes on you.

“i think i want to break up with him,” you admit.

“well shit,” emily mutters. “we just found out about this guy and we already get to hate him. best day of my life.”

“it’s just…”

you think about the constant miscommunications. the petty fights that never get resolved because he always shuts down. the silent treatment, the emotional immaturity. and then there’s the whole other started that started today’s fight.

“i think he’s cheating on me,” you say, eyes glued to the table.

“that fucker…” emily murmurs.

you don’t see it, but spencer’s eyebrows are tightly furrowed, you don’t see it, but spencer’s jaw clenches. he’s biting back a storm of words. 

how—and excuse his language, but—how the fuck could anyone think or even dare to look at someone else while being with you? you were the most stunning, drop-dead gorgeous person he’d ever met. on top of that you are smart and funny and loving, and you care for those you love in a way that most people would die to be cared for. spencer genuinely can’t wrap his mind around it.

“how do you know?” asks morgan.

“he’s been avoiding me for weeks. i thought it was because he was mad i had to leave for los angeles…”

“he gets mad at you for doing your job?” emily cuts in. “honey, you need to get the hell out of there.”

“ i know. i know. then,” you continue, “the other day, i caught him speaking on the phone with someone. i’ll admit i was shamelessly eavesdropping.”

“as you should.” morgan nods.

“he was using that soft voice i thought was just for me. and he said something about how he ‘couldn’t wait to spend more time together.’”

as you speak, your voice falters, and your expression dims. now, spencer has never been a violent man. he gets angry, sure, but he’s never been one to let out that fury out in the form of violence. but as he watches your shoulders slump, the way you’re picking at your nails to keep from crying, he can only think about finding the guy that’s made you feel like this and punch him in the face. he knows it’d probably physically hurt him more than the other man, but, hey, it’d make him feel great on the inside.

morgan says it first: “i should kill the guy.”

“i say we do it,” emily agrees.

you sniff, attempting a smile. it doesn’t really work.

“i don’t know why it affects me this much. i’m not even sure i love him,” you admit, throwing your hands in the air.

that makes spencer’s heart stutter.

“good. that’s good,” emily says, reaching across the table to take your hand. spencer silently curses himself for not doing it first. “do you know what you’re going to do now?”

you shake your head.

“you’re gonna pick up that phone, call the asshole, and end it. no explanations. just, hi, hello, we’re done. click.”

“or tell him he’s terrible in bed and you’re tired of faking it,” morgan offers.

“you’ve heard that one before?” emily teases, raising an eyebrow.

“oh, baby, never in my life. when they scream my name, they mean it.”

“ew, too much information, morgan. jesus.”

“you started it!” laughing, he turns to you. “but seriously, end it. don’t give him the chance to twist it around on you.”

without a word, spencer pushes your phone across the table. when you pick it up, your eyes find his.

“what do you think?” you ask. “should i do it?”

should you break up with the miserable excuse of a guy who lied, cheated, and made you feel this miserable? absofuckinglutely.

“he doesn’t deserve you,” is all he says.

you stare at him, nibbling your lower lip. flashbacks of a quiet night almost a year ago come back to you. him, staring at the dark horizon over a white fence, not daring to look in your direction. you, trying to make him look at you, to say something, anything, and getting nothing but silence and pain in return.

“okay. i’ll do it.” you rise from your seat, gripping your phone tightly in your hands. “i’ll be back in a minute.”

the three of them watch you slip through the crowd, out the door, and onto the sidewalk. from their booth, they can see you pacing outside, phone to your ear. your frown deepens. your cheeks flush. and then you turn away, shoulders shaking, head hanging.

“that’s your cue, lover boy,” morgan says, nudging spencer under the table.

“what? what do you mean?”

“you know? for a genius, you can be incredibly dense sometimes,” emily chimes in, finishing her beer. “you really think we haven’t noticed the way you two glance at each other, how you were gripping the table this whole time to keep yourself from reaching for her hand?”

it’s in moments like these that he hates that some of his closest friends are just as good as picking on small details as he is. spencer sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“i messed up, guys,” he says, tone dripping regret.

“what do you mean?” emily asks.

“a year ago, when we were away, working on a case in tampa, we… we had a moment.”

emily’s eyebrows shoot up. “define moment.”

“it was late at night. it’d been a rough day for me, i’d been dealing with a terrible headache all day, and i was very tired…”

“spencer, what happened between you two?” morgan cuts him off, leaning over the table.

“i’m gettin to it. i couldn’t sleep that night, so i was wandering through the hotel and i found a quiet, comfortable common area in a terrace. i sat down and just… i was just enjoying the peace.”

“reid, we really appreciate the immersive narrative but i want to know what happened between you two.” emily urges him to get to the point once again and spencer can only sigh.

“she told me she loved me.”

emily almost chokes on her own saliva, and morgan’s jaw in mere inches from hitting the table. spencer plays with his glass, turning it around and around and around, the almost-melted ice cubes clinking against the glass.

“please tell me you said it back,” emily whispers, eyes focus on you through the wide window at the front of the bar.

the silence answers for him.

“you idiot,” morgan says flatly.

spencer swallows hard. “i-i couldn’t. it wasn’t that i didn’t. i did. i do. but i wasn’t okay.”

he hadn’t been in the right state of mind at the time. and he wouldn’t have forgiven himself if he had dragged you down with him.

“i told her we couldn’t be together. that it went across the rules, and that it would be extremely inappropriate.” he drops his head, banging his forehead against the table with a groan. “i ruined it.”

and then three months after that you went to your friend’s birthday party. and a week later you started wearing perfume and high heels, and doing your hair in a way that made him salivate at the mere sight of you. all the while, you were dating another man. 

“well, it seems like they’re not together anymore.” emily points in your direction again.

you’re standing beneath the streetlights, no phone in sight. you’re looking up at the sky, cheeks tear-streaked. however, there’s a smile on your lips.

“if you don’t move your ass and go out there right now, kid…” morgan warns, and spencer doesn’t need to be told twice.

he bolts out the door, weaving through the crowd. it’s chilly outside, but he doesn’t feel it, really. maybe it’s the adrenaline, but right now he can only feel the furious beating of his heart, the prickly sensation in the palms of his hands as he walks a straight line towards you.

you feel him before you see him. when you lower your eyes from the dark sky to his face he notices the redness around them, the dry trails of tears down your cheeks. but spencer is surprised to not find a single trace of sadness or heartbreak in your face.

“did you do it?” he asks, breathless.

you simply nod, taking a step forward. spencer can’t take his eyes off you, your beautiful eyes, your mouth. those lips… god.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers when you’re in front of him, bodies so close he doubts he can breathe without you feeling it against your own chest.

“for what?”

“for having giving you a reason to end up with a cheating asshole who could never see what a truly wonderful person you are even if they paid him,” he says, eyes still fixed on your lips. he sees exactly how one of the corners tilts up slightly.

a smile plays on your lips. “you think you could do better?”

“i could. i will. if you let me.”

“oh, but i already did. and your answer was no. something about it being too… inappropriate?”

he sighs, taking a step back. or at least trying to. grab his shirt collar and pull him in, clashing your lips together. spencer immediately melts, letting out a soft grunt. you had imagined yourself kissing spencer reid many, many times. more than you will ever admit to. but never in a million years would you have imagined him being such a good kisser.

his hands hold tight onto your waist, pulling you into him until your body is completely pressed against his; chest to chest, hips to hips.

he mutters your name against your lips like a prayer, hand cupping your cheek. spencer drops one last chaste kiss on your lips before pulling back, resting his forehead against yours.

“i can’t believe we could’ve been doing this for months now,” he whispers.

“we have some catching up to do,” you say, nodding along. spencer huffs a laugh.

“i’m sorry,” he mutters after a couple of seconds, his eyes closed. “for making you think i didn’t love you.”

“i never thought you didn’t love me, spencer.” this time, it’s you cupping his cheeks, making him look at you. “but i knew you must have had a good reason to reject me, to want to keep your distance. that’s why i didn’t push you. and that’s why i kept mr. asshole a secret. i knew it would hurt you.”

unable to hold back, spencer leans in again, kissing you. this time it’s fiercer. more desperate. he knows you two have an audience, and that both emily and morgan will bring this whole episode up later, but right now he just needs to kiss you senseless. and judging by the ragged sigh you let out against his lips, it’s working.

“how are we going to tell the team? and hotch?” you ask between kisses, giggling when spencer groans at the mention of your boss.

he pauses, looking you dead in the eye, “honestly? i don’t care. and i’d really appreciate it if you didn’t think about our boss when i’m kissing you.”

“i wasn’t thinking about him. i was thinking about how inappropriate this is, and how we really need to start planning our kissing breaks for when we’re in the office.”

oh, spencer liked the sound of that. he could already see it in his mind. an excel spreadsheet with color-coded boxes marking time slots and locations… yeah, he’ll get right on it the moment he gets home.

“you’re already working on it, aren’t you?” you ask, tracing his jawline with the tip of your fingers. he merely hums, smiling. “god, i can’t believe i’m in love with a nerd.”

“it’s me who can’t really believe it, babe. trust me.”

thanks for reading <3 likes & reblogs are appreciated !!

tags !! @siennnaaa1202 ; @kusanagisunshine-blog-blog ; @girllblogging777 ; @superbeaglewitch ; @yasministration (check my profile to join!)

[evilminji]

Okay but? We of the DPxDC? Are COMPLETELY Sleeping on DPXBNHA?

And not even for the Main Plot Shenanigans!

Just?? It has ALL of DC's super powers? But MORE OF THEM. And like 80% of the population has um! Danny can?? Finally achieve his DREAM of being???

JUST SOME DUDE™!

Yeah, he's in Japan. That's a bit of a learning curve. And YEAH, there was a cataclysmic war like a few centuries back that sorta... fucked everybody up. No one wants to talk about it. There may be mass graves and Never Forget memorials. But?

On the SURFACE!

This place seems utopian!

No ghost hunters! Advanced technology! Robust social services*!

Wait... what was that asterisk? What do you mean "corrupt shadowy government organizations"? What do you MEAN "Immortal Supervillians"? NO SPACE PROGRAM!?!? AaaaaAAAAAAAAAAH?!?!? I'M IN HELL!!! This is ACTUALLY THE BAD PLACE, THIS IS HELL, OH GOD NOOOOOOO-!!!!!!

Cause see?

There are SO MANY REASONS he'd end up there?

Think about it! Wish that he lived somewhere his weird biology wouldn't exclude him from becoming an astronaut? In Quirks having Bnha Japan EVERYBODY has weird biology! Y'ain't special! You could TOTALLY be an astronaut!..... if we HAD those! We do not. Shut down that program during the Quirk Wars and never really started it again. (And somewhere, Desiree LAUGHS)

Or MAYBE? Things are getting a little hot on the ground? Bit TOO spicy. The Family Fenton and Friends have fallen back, behind the barely holding shields. Not even the Mansons considerable political maneuvering could stop the inevitably of human fear and blind unthinking hatred. Money can't buy everything, in the end. There is only ONE(1) way out.

Through the Zone.

Plan: Strangers In A Strange World is a go.

They're all Limnal enough to fake it. Sam with her plants. Tucker with his technology and persuasion. Jazz with her limited empathy. Their parents with their... well, weirdness. And with a touch of ghostly assisted meddling? Well, they've always BEEN there! Haven't they?

And that's not to MENTION the random 4 year olds with no control! JUST coming into their powers! With all those big emotions in tiny bodies? Startling events and tantrums? Villian attacks? What could THEY possibly hope to do to control or guide that fresh new power? It does what it does and the rest of us are just along for the ride!

If Danny happens to be minding his business and gets accidentally kidnapped by a VERY distraught 4 year old? Well, that's hardly the KIDS fault, now is it? They're FOUR! That is basically a toddler! Tiny child! They are upset, confused, and didn't mean to do ANYTHING. He's a hero. And Heros don't blame little kids from accidents, no matter HOW stressed it makes them.

No, the curse like a sailor INSIDE their head. Like an ADULT.

Just? Imagine~☆

The slow transition from *starry eyed shoujo sparkles* "This is SO COOL~!" to "huh, that's... kinda weird. And Sus. Weird Sus. Maybe nothing... oh! A distraction!" To "okay, this KEEPS happening, that was shady. You all saw that right? You realize that's not NORMAL, right? That that's fucked up? Not cool?" To "oh god, oh God, OH GOD! I'm in HELL! This is actually HELL! I'm trapped in HELL!!! WHAT THE FUC-"

Like? This kid LOVES space. LOVES the stars. And this is one of the few Superhero Cannon that SPECIFICALLY MENTIONS that IN CANNON? Thanks to Quirks? As in Superpowers? That VERY THING got fuckin SCRAPPED. Gutted. Consigned to be a relic of the past so they could all focus on punching each other Real Good.

He would weep BLOOD. Chew the WALLS. The LEVEL of unhinged this child would unleash? Not as Danny Phantom... but as DANNY J. FENTON? Beautiful. Vaguely psychotic. Definitely doing the Fenton Name proud. God, the NOISE HE WOULD MAKE would be inhuman and yet somehow? Come entirely from his human half.

They👏 Would👏 Hear👏 BOSS👏 MUSIC👏

I don't even know if he'd CARE about the main characters. They'd be tangential at best. The man would be in a one man war with I-Island over their lack of space program and hoarding of scientific progress. Probably living out of an abandoned building or forgotten subway station. Just? The MOST bedraggled, feral genius to ever haunt Japan.

As opposed to the REFINED feral genius. Who is Nedzu.

I bet Danny stands outside his school at one AM waving his scientific papers at a camera and YELLS. Like a deranged lunatic. Mismatched slippers and a "haven't slept in a week" crazed glint in his eyes.

He's Nedzu's new best friend. They GET each other.

And, yes, Nedzu COULD let him in... but it's faster to just let him yell and read the papers through the camera. Who CARES if they both seem insane! Let's shout about advanced physics and engineering at 1 am! Over the speakers!!! Oh? You need to physically SHOW me the notes? Well I COULD unlock the gates... OR just wait for you to finish scrambling up the walls like a feral Racoon, to then throw yourself OVER them.

Either, Or.

I'm just SAYING! We are SLEEPING on this! There is so, SO much fun to be had! Danny breaks rules and minds! His outrage over injustice and the complete lack of SPACE! His protection instincts going BUCK FUCKIN WILD. The INDESCRIBABLE hate boner he would have for Mr. "Lemme just rip parts of your soul out so I can collect your powers like pokemon cards" AfO.

There? Is SO MUCH, guys. SO MUCH!

@hdgnj @the-witchhunter @babbling-babull @hypewinter @nerdpoe @lolottes @dcxdpdabbles @mutable-manifestation

[e1e4n0r5]

Their Little Plaything: Epilogue

Masterlist, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Fandom: Arcane: League of Legends

Pairing: Bullies Cait & Vi x Loner Nerd Reader

Words: 3449

Synopsis: 6 years later, our happy threesome lives their best lives

Warnings: i will not be held responsible for what i write when i'm ovulating. Breeding kink, HexStraps that get you pergnart, strap-on, strap-on referred to as cock, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, wand vibrator, talk of safe words, spit play, drink-mouth-swap thing 🫣, breath play/air restriction, mention of collar blink and you'll miss it, talk of getting pregnant/pregnant body

Notes: "Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened," FUCK YOU I'M CRYING 😭 I had no idea so many people would read this story, it's genuinely meant so much that you've loved it 😭 But we still have the bonus chapters. It's not goodbye for TLP Cait x Reader x Vi. We've all earned this ending, so enjoy!

6 Years Later

You arrived back home, bags from your shopping trip weighing down your arms. Cait had organised a day out with your mother as a surprise, giving you the family card with strict instructions to ‘buy everything you think we’ll like’. Still, you’d limited yourself to a few new dresses, a pair of shoes, and a little bracelet they can seal around your wrist.

You headed into the house and detoured to the study when you heard voices. Smiling when you heard your wives, you paused outside, not wanting to interrupt if it was important.

“We’re very happy with the design.” Jayce, a family friend, co-found of HexTech.

Viktor, the other co-founder, was also present. “This inner device will collect- Oh wait…Are you both comfortable with the inner devices?”

“What makes you think we wouldn’t be comfortable?” Vi challenged. You couldn’t see her but you could imagine her crossing her arms with a raised eyebrow.

“Well…Um…”

“We’re both perfectly comfortable with that, Viktor,” Cait reassured him. You knew she was giving a little pleased smirk.

“Yes…So, as I was saying: the inner devices will collect-”

“Don't care,” Vi interrupted. “Yes or no: will these let us put a baby in Y/N?”

“What the fuck?!”

You burst into the room, eyeing the four of them standing around the large desk in the centre of the ornate room. Jayce and Viktor blushed bright red, obviously very uncomfortable as you entered; Vi was smirking, almost proud that you had heard her; and Cait was calm and collected.  

Laid on the desk were two harnesses with inner shafts in the crotch emitting a faint blue glow. They had no toys attached to the front, but there was a closed metal briefcase next to them.

Cait just smiled at you. “Hello, darling. How was your shopping trip? Is your mother well?”

You glared at her, putting your bags down. “She sends her love, as always. And our shopping trip – which I see now was a distraction shopping trip, not a loving surprise you organised! – was nice, thank you. But now I'm wishing I'd been more punishing on your card.”

She just kept smiling. “Our card, darling. And do you want to go back out and be more punishing?” she dared, knowing you wouldn't. Despite her and her family's practically limitless funds, you still had trouble spending their money. Despite Cait and Vi constantly telling you it was your money too.

“I want to know what's going on,” you said sarcastically, looking between her, Vi, Jayce, and Viktor. “What are these things?” you asked, looking at the harnesses.

“Well, we don't have an official name yet-”

“I still say you should go with ‘HexStrap’,” Vi teased.

Viktor blushed. “But essentially they will convert female sexual fluids-”

“It's going to let us knock you up,” Vi explained, looking like the cat who got the cream.

Your mind was blown. “That's possible?”

Jayce nodded. “Female-female fertilisation is possible with certain technology-”

 “Yes, darling, it's possible,” Cait smiled at you.

“And the babies would be healthy?”

Cait and Vi smiled at each other at your maternal concern.

Viktor nodded. “All the research indicates any foetuses conceived can be carried to term and live perfectly healthy lives.”

Not wanting to give in too easily, you raised an eyebrow and crossed your arms brattily. “Well, what if I want to get you pregnant?” you challenged both of them.

They just looked back at you; Vi with a sceptical smirk, Cait with an amused tilt of her head.

“Alright, you don't have to be so loud,” you snapped back.

“Sweetheart,” Vi said softly, coaxingly, sweetly, “why don't you take your new things upstairs; we’ll be up in a bit, you can show us what you bought.”

“And then you show me your new things?” you asked sarcastically.

Vi just smiled at you. “Five.”

Your eyes widened, looking at Cait for backup. It didn't come.

“Ten,” she replied.

“No, I'm going!” you rushed back over to the bags you'd put down, picking them all up.

“Fifteen!” Vi called after you. In the distance, an anguished ‘no!’ could be heard running up the stairs.

“Do we go for twenty?” Cait asked Vi thoughtfully.

“Let's see how well these things work first,” she nodded her head to the straps.

“Should we ask?” Jayce whispered to Viktor.

He shook his head. “I think it's best not to.”

You paced around the bedroom as you waited for Vi and Cait to come upstairs with their new toys. They were seriously going to impregnate you with those things without asking you?!

You heard the front door close downstairs, then footsteps slowly started to make their way upstairs. You wanted to run out and meet them there, but they’d told you to wait in the bedroom. Plus, they had already counted to fifteen; you didn’t need your night to get any worse.

The door opened and they stepped inside. Vi carried a large metal briefcase, Cait the smaller one.

“What’s going on?!”

“Just a favour we asked of some friends,” Vi smirked, walking over to Cait’s desk and placing the briefcase on it.

“Some techno strap-ons that’ll get me pregnant?” you demanded, crossing your arms indignantly.

Cait raised an eyebrow. “We’ve discussed having children, Y/N, you said you wanted us to start a family. Unless you’ve changed your mind?”

“No, I haven’t, not at all! But I didn’t know that meant you’d asked Jayce and Viktor for HexTech straps!”

“HexStraps,” Vi corrected with a grin.

“When were you planning on telling me you’d done this?” you snapped.

“Sweetheart,” Cait soothed, walking over to you and cupping your cheeks. “Take a breath and let us explain.”

You sullenly took a deep breath, letting them speak.

“When we first discussed children last year, we asked Jayce and Viktor if there was anything they could do. If there was any way we could have children ourselves. They’ve been working on it since then. They told us last week that they needed to talk to us, so I arranged for you to be out of the house today, in case they gave us bad news.”

Vi stroked your back. “We didn’t tell you because we didn’t want to promise you something and then disappoint you if they couldn’t make something work. But it looks like they have,” she smiled, looking at the briefcases.

“Do you want to take a look?” Cait asked gently.

You were suddenly nervous, but nodded. Their hands in the small of your back, they led you over to the desk. They each opened a briefcase, letting you see inside. Looking more closely at the harnesses, you could see how beautiful and intricate they were. The harnesses had fine gold woven into the fabric of the straps; the inner phallic shafts a soft metal with HexTech glowing blue inside.

“Will they be comfortable for you both?” you asked in concern.

Cait smiled. “We tried on several models; they're very enjoyable to wear.”

You nodded, relieved that your wives’ efforts to give you a baby wouldn't be painful for them, even though you knew they would endure whatever was needed if it meant giving you something you wanted.

You looked into the other briefcase, intrigued. “Why are there different sizes? And surely we only need two?”

“Why limit ourselves to only two cocks to fuck you with?” Cait teased.

You blushed. “So...When can we try them out?”

“You ready for us to put a baby in you, sweetheart?” Vi asked, bending your legs back to your shoulders, making you groan as her cock filled you more deeply. “You want us to make you a mommy?”

“Fuck, yes,” you wept, grabbing at her hips, pulling her in closer.

Vi pinned you to the bed, her HexStrap pressing deep inside you. Your eyes rolled back as she brushed your cervix, your back arching. “You like my cock inside you, baby?”

You nodded desperately, cupping her cheek, kissing her deeply as she fucked you. You moved together, panting as writhed and pressed against each other.

You cried out as you orgasmed, your cunt clamping down almost painfully on Vi’s cock as she came inside you for the first time, your hips trying desperately to meet hers as you felt her cum spill inside you.

They both kissed your neck and cheeks as you came down, letting your catch your breath.

“Now, that was one, sweetheart,” Vi said as she pulled out of you, moving to the side so Cait could take her place.

“What number did we say earlier?” Cait taunted, moving your hands above your head and pinning them down with one hand.

Your eyes widened. “No…No, please! I-I can’t do that many!”

“You can, and you will, darling,” she threatened, rubbing the tip of her cock against your leaking hole. “Because we’re not stopping until you’re dripping with our cum and have a baby in your belly.” She pressed inside, sliding her strap into your already aching hole.

An hour later, you were sobbing into the sheets as Cait pressed you into the mattress, knees wide apart, chest to the bed, pussy literally dripping onto the bed.

“Ei…Eight,” you wept.

“Good girl,” she panted in your ear, sweat coating her brow, pulling her cock out of you, breathing deeply.

“How about we take a break?” you heard Vi ask. You moaned appreciatively, your face buried in the sheets. Vi laughed. “No, not you, sweetheart.” Hands rolled you over onto your back, holding your legs apart. You blinked your eyes at Vi, your vision slightly blurry.

She smirked at you, holding up a wand like a weapon.

“N…Noooo,” you moaned weakly, your bottom lip trembling.

She hovered over you, her nose a few inches from yours. “Colour, baby?”

You hiccupped sadly. “Green.”

With a dangerous smirk, she turned the wand on. Holding herself above you, keeping her eyes locked with yours, she slowly traced it down your stomach, threatening you with what was to come. You shook as the vibrations got closer to your pussy, gasping and shuddering when they finally started assaulting your clit.

You cried and whined as the powerful sensations rocked through you, your pussy already promising another orgasm. You held Vi’s shoulders with trembling hands as you rode the wand, your hips moving out of your control.

“Good girl,” she teased, licking into your mouth, swallowing your moans.

It sent you over the edge when she sucked your tongue, crying out into her mouth as your hips rocked and pulsed.

“How many, baby?” Cait asked, crouching next to the bed with a cold bottle of electrolyte drink, pressing it to your neck.

You whimpered. “Nine.”

“Do one more and then you can have a drink, darling,” she gently shook the bottle as if it were a prize to be won. But your body obeyed, not that the wand gave you much choice. Only two minutes later, your body shook with another climax, twitching under Vi.

When you moaned out, “Ten,” Vi moved off you, turning off the wand and setting it down.

“Come on, baby, let’s sit you up a little.” She supported you in her lap, holding you back against her chest.

“Are you ready for a drink, sweetheart?” Cait asked, opening the bottle.

You nodded, opening your mouth.

She smiled at you, taking a sip, squeezing your cheeks together, and trickling the drink into your mouth. You moaned as you swallowed, opening your mouth again. Cait chuckled and repeated the process; take a sip, squeeze your cheeks, pour the drink from her mouth to yours.

“Anymore?” she asked after she take a drink for herself.

You nodded, whining pitifully.

Vi smirked, standing you up and forcing you to your knees. Picking up the wand, she turned it on and handed it to you. Obediently, you held it to your clit, rocking on it as they both stood in front of you.

When you opened your mouth again, Vi held your jaw firmly and turned your head to her. “Greedy slut,” she growled, bending down and spitting onto your outstretched tongue.

You moaned loudly, your pussy throbbing. You kept your tongue out as Cait took another sip, leaning down and dribbling it into your mouth.

“Swallow, slut,” she instructed, handing the bottle to Vi.

The pink-haired butch took a drink of her own, then watched in amusement as Cait took her turn spitting onto your tongue. Vi held your eye as she made you wait, drinking from the bottle as you knelt in front of her, Cait’s spit waiting on your tongue, your eyes begging her for more drink. Not to wash away Cait’s spit – never – but to get the refreshing liquid directly from Vi’s mouth.

She finally took pity on you. “Are you almost at eleven?” You nodded, starting to moan as your cunt started to pulse again, empty without a cock in it. “Okay. Get to eleven, then you can have some more.”

“But don’t swallow before then,” Cait instructed, enjoying the sight of her spit still decorating your outstretched tongue.

You nodded obediently, embracing the orgasm that was building inside you. Keeping your tongue out the whole time, you moaned and whined as number eleven rolled through you, your breasts bouncing as you rocked on the wand.

When you started to settle down, Vi’s foot pressed the wand harder into your pussy. “Good girl,” she praised. “Let’s see how quickly we can get you to twelve.” She took the final drink from the bottle, squeezed your cheeks together, and slowly, agonisingly slowly, let the drink drip from her lips. Little by little she fed you the drink whilst your next orgasm built inside you. When she was finished, she put her hand over your mouth.

“Do not swallow, do you hear me? Finish this one, then you can swallow,” she instructed darkly, her eyes intense on yours.

You nodded, your eyes already starting to cross as your pussy started clenching again. You kept your eyes on hers, your foreheads pressed together, her hand over your mouth, as a powerful orgasm ripped through you. Vi cupped the back of your head, using both hands to hold you upright as you groaned and spasmed with your twelfth climax.

“Good girl,” she praised in your ear. “Now swallow, sweetheart. Swallow like a good girl.”

You swallowed the mixture of Cait’s spit and the drink, moaning as it went down your throat.

“You feeling okay, baby? Still green?” Vi asked, checking in on you, her hand still on your mouth.

You nodded as best you could, making a happy sound in your throat.

“One more here,” Cait commanded, putting her hair into a low bun, “Then we’re both going to fuck you one last time. Can you manage that, sweetheart?”

You nodded pathetically, your overstimulated clit starting to protest at the wand. Vi kept her hands on your mouth and head, watching you intensely as you started to climb again.

“You wanna do the thing, baby?” she asked.

You moaned behind her hand, nodding.

“Okay. Deep breath in,” she instructed. You obeyed, inhaling deeply through your nose. “And hold on.” She clamped her fingers over your nostrils, cutting off your air. You held your breath under her hand, the heady sensation increasing the pressure in your pussy.

“Well done,” Cait praised from behind you, her finger stroking over the thin leather around your neck.

When she’d counted to ten in her head, Vi moved her hand off your mouth. You inhaled deeply, gasping for breath. You whimpered as your pussy throbbed.

“Ready to go again?”

You took a few more breaths, nodding.

“Okay, breathe in…And hold.”

Pressing her hand over your mouth and nose again, Vi watched you carefully. Your body writhed on the wand, starting to shake as your orgasm grew inside you. They could both tell you were right on the edge, just about to fall over.

“Three, two, one,” Vi said quietly in your ear, then released your face, sending you into a strong orgasm when you were able to breathe again. You gasped and moaned, writhing violently on the wand, your brain suddenly hit with a rush of oxygen.

They held you as you shook, soothing your body to help calm down. Vi picked you up gently, laying you down on the covers.

“One more for us both, okay?” she soothed, pressing a kiss to each cheek.

You whined wretchedly, nodding.

Pushing your legs back to your chest, she guided her strap back inside you, making your back arch off the bed. You keened low, your body pliant as Vi fucked you with her cock.

“This is it, baby,” Vi urged in your ear, her hips moving frantically. “This is gonna do it.”

Cait stroked your hair softly. “Tonight’s the night you get a baby, darling. Oh, imagine if we both bred you tonight, if we both fucked a baby into you.”

You all moaned at the thought.

Vi grunted in your ear. “I can see it, two babies in your belly. You’ll be so round for us, sweetheart, you’ll look so good with our babies in you.”

You wept at the thought.

“But you have to come first,” Cait coaxed. “We can’t come if you don’t, and you can’t get a baby without our cum deep inside you.”

You whined in protest, at the idea of not getting your babies.

“So, finish for us, sweetheart,” Vi encouraged. “You can do it.”

That helped you over the edge, pussy clamping down on Vi’s cock. With a moan of her own, she spilled inside you, her hips pumping her cum into your waiting pussy.

“Fourteen, sweetheart. One more,” Cait smiled, taking Vi’s place. “Can you do it for us? For our future babies?” she asked, running her cock up and down your soaked slit. Not waiting for an answer, she slid inside you, both of you groaning. “One last time, baby, here we go,” she urged, thrusting her hips against yours. You laid under her, wanting to rock your body against her, to hold her close, but your body just wouldn’t move.

All you could do was moan against her thrusts, accepting everything she gave you. Vi reached a hand between you, rubbing your clit, and making you cry out as she did.

“Last one, sweetheart,” Vi spoke in your ear, kissing your cheek, pressing her forehead to yours.

It didn’t take long for you and Cait to cum one final time, Cait holding you close as she pumped her cum inside you.

They held you tightly, both of them cupping your stomach.

“We did it, baby. I know it.”

Three years later

You reclined back on the sofa, just waking up from your nap, one toddler under each arm, their precious heads on your chest. Mila, the eldest and your feisty little pink-haired girl, curled into your side. Eden, the calmer twin, fisted her blue-hair as she slept.

The door to the sitting room clicked open softly, your wives’ heads popping in. You smiled at them from your position, unable to move, lest you wake your babies.

They approached you quietly, crouching down in front of you.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Vi whispered.

“Do you feel more rested?” Cait asked, gently stroking your hair off your forehead.

You nodded sleepily. “A bit. These two are still bouncing around in there,” you nodded to your bumped stomach. “Hopefully they'll settle down before bed.”

Vi rubbed your bump. “They will,” she soothed, kissing you through your dress.

Mila shifted against you, propping herself up on her elbow. She blinkered her eyes open, which widened at seeing your wives. “Mama!” she cried, throwing herself at Vi.

Disturbed from her sleep, Eden groaned into your side, pulling herself closer.

Cait stroked her hair gently. “Eden,” she cooed, “It’s time to wake up.”

The small child pouted, reaching out for her. “Mother,” she begged to be picked up.

“Come here, darling,” she picked the child up, holding her close as she flopped in her arms.

“You both have to wake up,” Vi said, patting Mila’s back, “Auntie Powder’s coming over later for dinner.”

“Pow-Pow!” they both squealed excitedly, suddenly awake.

You laughed as Vi helped you up with her free arm, holding you close as you regained your centre of gravity. The five of you headed out into the garden, your hearts bursting with joy.

Sometimes you still woke up and expected to be that girl again, the one who kept your head down, who thought you didn’t belong, who flinched when people looked at you. But when you felt Vi’s hands on your bump, heard Cait murmuring to the twins through the baby monitor, and you remembered: you made it. Together.

Taglist: @sevikas-whore, @djstinkyfartz, @jinririz, @abbyandcaitlover, @ayuxiru, @bebeluvvv, @youdoyou-andiwilldome, @kittymrtnezz69, @wyprettylilone, @jlb20416, @autisticratbagtm, @theoreticalfreak, @riotstemple29, @zaunite-516, @zmbieeee, @godhatesgoodgirls, @yoyo-w, @milanyas, @unknownomgg, @bella-but-not-hadid444, @marvelwomenarehot0, @nenoino, @opalundercover, @spicedcherrylolli, @colettespace, @flowersareup

[unadulteratedsoulsweets]

A DC X DP IDEA #27

They’re the strongest?!?!

Imagine dis…

You know … I read too much humans are space orcs fic, prompts, ideas… etc.

But I still like Danny Phantom and DC…

And I remember that one A03 fic…

…

Another alien invasion is another Wednesday for the JL but it seems like they are quite different. Not only they are known as invaders in the Green Lantern Corps but they also have some sort of code among warriors, they give a chance to the species they are invading to fight back. By having their strongest fight against their strongest. It is not through fighting to the death as different planets have different climates and terrains and thus have their version of the Olympic games but instead of rewarding the participants medals, they were rewarded their planet's safety, but Hal commented that the challenges are too staged, too well known to the invading aliens. Since the ones defending have no idea how to approach the challenges, they always end up losing. Green Arrow commented that since they can just send out the Big Blue boy scout, Hal shook his head as they have to be the same species one planet already tried it by asking aid from another planet and not only lost but the invading aliens got 2 planets, plus they’ll bring it up to the galaxy court system and put them in a tight spot. Of course, Aquaman blinked with confusion and asked if there was a court system for the galaxy.

…

So of course, when the said invading aliens landed on the Milky Way and broadcasted their intentions. The JL already have a team to fight them, of course, we have Batman with his cunning mind, Wonder Woman for her chivalry and strength, Flash for his speed, Doctor Fate for his mastery of magic, and Cyborg for technological skills. Just as they were about to tell the invading aliens that they had already picked their strongest, another announcement popped out. Apparently to even out the playing field they have a new technology to help them pick out their strongest for them. As if they were talking to kids and promptly pressed the bottom to automatically select the earth’s strongest.

The heroes at the space station as well those around the world who were debriefed about the situation a week before are already bracing themselves to be picked, while the citizens around the globe are all now watching and anticipating as not only this a new thing as the majority of their alien invasion they immediately went to evacuation.

Who appeared/ chosen immediately made both sides' jaws drop….

Three?

Only three are chosen…

An adult, a teen, and a child?

A man who wore a blue rental suit with glasses, blue eyes and black hair. Which the Metropolis recognizes as one of their own. Clark Kent, a reporter with fame and reputation on par with the famed Lois Lane. The ideal model of someone who came from the countryside and made a name and life in the big city.

An 11-year-old boy with blue eyes and black hair who wore a red hoodie, faded jeans, and red shoes, in which the city Fawcett knew of. Billy Batson was, a former foster kid on the run until he found his forever home with the couple named Victor and Rosa Vasquez who also fostered a couple of kids, which Billy claims as his siblings. A kind kid who kept doing good around him and his community.

Lastly, a teen, again with blue eyes and black hair wore a faded NASA hoodie, and blue jeans with faint eye bags which was a small town in Amity Park where he came from. Danny Fenton, the only son of the two leading scientists of ecto-biologists in ecotology, the one who realized that one of the two purple-back gorillas is a female thus avoiding extinction.

…

Clark Kent by day and Superman by night knew about the invading aliens. He also knew that he could not participate despite being raised on Earth made him unqualified to join. So, imagine his shock when he suddenly found himself with two earth children in the middle of a large arena with futuristic cameras looking at them. He is now in an internal dilemma; how can he save the two kids, while he tries to save Earth altogether?

This train of thought also passed by the young Billy Batson on the said teen, Billy already knew that Superman was already thinking of saving the both of them. Now his priority is to survive and keep his secret ID a secret for a bit longer.

…

Danny on the other hand has a completely different train of thought, he was just about to reach his room. His beautiful room where his bed is, he had just finished a four-hour exam to bring his grades back up to an acceptable level, 9 continuous ghost attacks, another nonsense quarrel between the observers and he is close to committing anarchy just so he can have the same treatment to Pariah Dark, an eternal sleep in a comfortable looking Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep.

So imagine his surprise when he is suddenly teleported to what looks like an alien ship, Danny would usually be ecstatic but they have interrupted him, he is so close to his bed. He knew that there would be some sort of an invasion as he remembered the bits and pieces from Tucker’s ramble when they last hung out together.

He doesn’t care if aliens invade Earth, but if you come between him and his bed. He will make sure of what he will do to those who disturb him, he will make his fight with his future self and Pariah Dark like child’s play.

…

The Justice League kept on insisting that they had already chosen their fighters and those who appeared in the middle of their arena were civilians, not warriors. But the invading aliens stayed on their decision and immediately began the games.

The rest of the heroes are now scrambling to not only stop the invading aliens but also save the 2 civilians who were randomly selected.

While the rest of the League is now panicking the rest of the world is now in an outrage. Sending out a civilian man and children by the alien's weird machinery.

The Fenton couples are especially rabid as, if there is anything that tops their ghost obsession, it would be their children’s safety. The family of Batson are on the edge of their seats as they worry for Billy.

…

The games begin with an opening of rules and such, as well as an introduction to the alien’s warriors who are big and full of muscles making the Earth team look so tiny.

The first game starts with a simple hunting game with very minimal clues and tools at their disposal to find what they seek. Clark can crack the code on to where to hunt but it is a dangerous environment, Clark discusses it with his teammates on how to catch it, Clark is already thinking if he should reveal himself as a meta with strength but Danny just glares at the man and grabbed capturing tools form the table and sought out the thing they are designated to hunt.

The other team took a glance at Team Earth and warbled some snickers at how they took looking/hunting too fast without any plans and went back to their planning.

Clark and Billy are worried for their other teammate but after a few minutes, they hear a roar some shuffles, and then silence.

Back on earth, most people are horrified a what could be the teen’s fate but when footsteps were heard they saw the teen again scathed, with a few scratches, and a hulking beast all tied up from its muzzle to its tails.

Clark nervously asked, still maintaining his civilian identity, how on earth Danny had caught such a beast. Danny’s only response was, back from where he came a certain ”friend” really wanted “someone’s” pelt on a wall and learned some things while HE was chasing that “something”.

That starts the Danny effect…

…

A tag sort of game as there is a hunter to hunt them down and their objective is to hide longer than the other team, with both Billy and Danny a part, while Billy lasted a few hours with his wit and skills that he honed during his time when he ran from CPS and the police during his days as a foster child, which is impressive itself as he got two of the other team’s members to be captured first before him. Danny outlasted Billy and the rest of the other team won the game in a landslide and gained some bonus points by not only redirecting the hunter and leading them into a false trail or a dead end but also messing with the said hunter without being spotted by him.

Cooking with live and weird ingredients? Clark initially volunteered to do it as he has a stomach of steel being an alien but cannot cook as he has no idea which ingredient is edible as all alien dishes and ingredients come from Krypton and he has to impress the judges who put them in a disadvantage as the judges are from the same race as the opposing team. Danny just shook his head at Clark quickly put on an apron and set to work.

Clark and Billy immediately turned green at the sight as Danny nonchalantly battled the live ingredients, from the meat section to what seems to be the fruit and vegetable section, It is bloody as it is and quite fascinating as it is disgusting. All their years in the Justice League they have seen some twisted and weird things but seeing their third teammate casually stab what looked like an unholy cross hybrid between an octopus and a shark trying to crawl away from the carnage, cleaned the weird animal from the inside out and fillet it.

Of course, they are in disbelief when the judges practically moan the moment, they taste Danny’s dish. Clark and Billy are pretty sure one of the judges is planning to spare Danny and turn him into their chef if the invasion continues, with the way they look at Danny. The judges reluctantly let Danny’s dish win.

Billy reluctantly asked Danny where he learned to cook like that, Danny’s only response was a grumble of a sound that seemed to sound like at home but that cannot be, right?

Trying to survive an onslaught of hypnotic plants native to the alien’s home world, Danny once again won and even began criticizing the plants for how their music was so horrible that it would not even wake the dead.

Play some sort of FIGHTING VIDEO GAME that is popular in 5 sectors in their part of the galaxy, Danny wins and repeatedly shoots the aliens with pure hatred and anger in his eyes, Clark has to physically drag Danny out of the arena to stop his onslaught of firing to the poor guy who was already on the verge of crying.

And so on with the Earth’s team leading COUGH Danny COUGH and demolishing the invading aliens from their games.

After a while the games are done and Team Earth wins with a massive gap to the invading aliens. They returned the three in the middle of the Metropolis and went away without so much a fuss…

Well, expect that one chef in their midst how begged the leader to take Danny and only him with them but the leader is already fearing for his life as the last few games that humans began to be more feral by the second and he was sure he is also a second away from being the one at the other end of his chopping board.

…

Back on earth everyone cheered on the three and began flashing them their camera lights to get a new scoop, and one brave reporter even tried to interview Danny but when people tried to look for the elusive teen he seemingly disappeared.

Clark knew Danny was, sleeping peacefully in the middle of the bushes a few feet away from them, and kept quiet as he was late to realize that Danny was on the verge of a crash like Red Robin is when he pulled something like this when Conner invited him.

…

PS: If someone out there wanted to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

[moghedien]

omg we finally got the mierin backstory and I truly cannot stop laughing her life sucks so bad all because oopsies she accidentally broke Satan out of jail? LMFAOOOOOOOO

Imagine you had a terrible break up with the person who is the love of your life, but you weren't the love of theirs. You watch this person marry someone they very clearly love and adore more than you. You watch the two of them have a family and grow happier and happier. And you can't even really escape seeing this because they're your colleagues and your ex is one of the most well known figures in the world. They're everywhere being very happy and living the life you wanted and you just have to watch it. And everyone only knows you as the person who used to date your ex and got dumped

So you pour yourself into your career and research. You're talented, after all. You're very talented and strong in the power even in an era of strong channelers. You haven't received the recognition you want or deserve, but you're still working, still researching, still making break throughs. Constantly being reminded of your ex by everyone and everything, but you're doing your own thing. And, well, its not really the life you wanted. And you are lonely, you are heartbroken, but you're going to help people and that will give you some fulfillment. You just have to commit to the work and not worry about your ex.

And you do make some genuinely remarkable breakthroughs. You and the team your working with find a source of what seems to be unlimited power. Something that isn't limited by gender or ability, something that anyone can tap into. In an age of already immense technology and knowledge and magic, you found something that could catapult it into a golden age for what is already a golden age. You're doing something that will help everyone, that will change the world for the better. You don't know what it might be. You have no reason to know what it is. No one has even heard of the Dark One, after all, how could they have expected you to?

And you tap that source and it does change the world by unleashing the ultimate evil into an Age that had forgotten such things even existed. Everyone knows you were involved. Other researchers that were working on this commit suicide in shame. You're the one left to take the blame, the scorn, the humiliation, the guilt for something that no one could have seen coming. For something that everyone would have done if they had been in your shoes. For something you certainly didn't mean to do. Your grand act that was going to save everyone damned the world. Your crowning achievement that was going to give you the recognition outside of the shadow of the person who broke your heart is now the thing that will stop anyone from trusting you or recognizing your talents ever again. You haven't even sworn to the Shadow yet and people already hate you, already blame you, are already concocting stories about you and your motivations.

And of course, the only thing people remembered about you before this was that your ex broke your heart. So now to everyone, you're just a jealous bitter ex girlfriend that brought literal hell to earth because you couldn't get over a man.

That's literally all anyone will ever see you as from now on, so that might as well be who you are.

[alisonwritesimagines]

Wayne Family Garden ~Batmom Imagine~

Summary: Your plan on growing a garden. However, you don’t have a green thumb. Luckily, you know someone who does.

Author’s Note: I'm obessed with the Wayne Family Adventures on WebToons. Like you don't know how obsessed I am with them.

BatFamily Masterlist

Reader’s Pronouns: She/Her

Warnings: fluff, Poison Ivy and Harley know the Batfam's identies (its canon)

Side Note: This is a secondary blog. If you comment a question down below, I will not answer since this is not the main blog. Please send the question to my inbox if you want a response back!

Do not repost this anywhere!

"What do you think Alfred?"

"I think having a lemon tree could really benefit the garden and our groceries," Alfred tells you.

"Maybe we can have an apple tree too?" You said.

"Sounds delightful. And Master Bruce agreed to your garden?"

"Yup. Said we can have it on the side in the backyard. And we can grow whatever we want," you smiled.

"We should start off small then," Alfred said.

"Right. So then a lemon tree, an apple tree, and carrots?" You asked.

"Sounds good to me," Alfred smiled.

You had been growing more bored around your home now that most of your kids were adults and had moved out of the mansion. So after seeing a good amount of gardening TikToks, you wanted to start your own little garden. But there was one slight problem, you didn't know how to garden.

So there was one person you could think of who could help you start off. You didn't want to bother Alfred more than what he has to deal with so you used your husband's technology to find a certain someone.

The apartment complex looked a little run down but yet again, you knew this was where they would be laying low. You knocked on the front door, only to see Harley Quinn opening it up.

"Mrs. Wayne? Whatcha doin here?" Harley asked you.

"Hiya, Harley. I'm looking for Ivy. Is she around?" You asked.

"Yeah. What's going on?" Harley asked.

"Harley. Who is it?" You heard Ivy ask.

"It's Y/n Wayne! Batman's wife!" Harley said excitedly.

"Hi, Ivy. I came here to ask for a favor," you tell her.

"Uh sure. What's up?" Ivy asked.

"I am currently planting a garden at my home but the problem is, I don't know how to garden. I was wondering if you can help me out," you asked her.

"Don't you have a butler who also knows how to garden?" Ivy asked.

"Yes but I don't want to bother him more than my family already has. And besides, I need more females around the house," you mentioned.

"What are you trying to grow?" Harley asked.

"I would like to start off with a lemon tree, an orange tree, and an apple tree. But I know those take a couple years to grow but I would like to begin growing carrots, tomatoes, and green beans as well," you tell her.

"Those are good to start off with," Ivy mentioned.

"Thanks. So will you come by my house with me and help me get started? I have the tools and everything to start off," you asked her.

"Yeah. My schedule is clear for today," Ivy shrugged.

"Thank you! Harley! You can come over too," you invited.

"Oh sweet!"

Whenever it was a light night, meaning that there was barely crime for once in Gotham, the whole family would get together for dinner. However, they were surprised to see two new comers joining you all in dinner.

"I expect you all to behave yourselves for the night. Ivy and Harley are my guests as they helped me with my garden today," you tell your family.

"Yes mom."

"And no hero or villain talk in the table. I would like a dinner where we can just eat like normal people for once," you say as you prepped the table.

During dinner, everyone ate peacefully but kept a close eye on Harley and Ivy. It was mainly you talking about the garden and your plans for it.

"What are you planning on growing in the garden ummi?" Damien asked you.

"I would like a lemon, orange, and an apple tree but I know those take a while to grow. But I'm also planning on growing some carrots, green beans, and tomatoes to start off," you say excitedly.

"Just make sure to follow the instructions I gave you," Ivy said.

"Of course. And I'll call you in case anything happens," you smiled at her.

The next few weeks, you were proud of your work. The trees were starting to form slowly but surely. You kept notes to check your progress as well as making sure everything was going smoothly. So it wasn't a surprise for the batfamily to see Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy come to their house every week to help check on your garden.

"They're growing good," Ivy tells you,

"Thank you!"

"If you want, I can help you speed up the process for the trees."

"I know I should wait but I do want to try baking an apple pie and make my own orange juice."

"As long as you keep maintaining it you should be fine."

"Mmm. Okay. Let's do it!"

Cassandra and Stephanie quickly rushed over to Harley's and Ivy's place with the bag from their mom. It had been a couple weeks since Ivy and Harley last visited you and your garden. Cassandra knocked on the door, waiting for one of them to answer.

"What do you kids want?" Ivy asked as she opened the door.

"wanted us to drop this off to you," Stephanie said as she handed her the bag. Ivy looked into it before smiling. A fresh apple pie along with a pitcher of orange juice and lemonade were placed in the bag.

"Tell her we said thank you."

"We will!"

"Let her know that if she wants to start something new, have her call me," Ivy tells the girls.

"We will!"

[manicmanuscription]

Different Acotar Character's x Current Partner Trend

Featured Characters: Rhysand, Azriel, Cassian, Lucien, Eris, Feyre, Nesta, and Elain. (all x f!reader)

A/N: Y'all Reader DOES hit Cassian but he knew she was going to and wanted her too? It was inspired by this one tiktok I saw in this trend very much giving Cass energy where the man said current wife, wife hit him and he immediately defended her because he knew she was going to so very much inspired by that. I also only said current wife/husband for most of these because in Acotar mates are like higher than that and I think if reader said boyfriend/girlfriend we'd actually see some major crashouts. Also in my head for this, Acotar is the same but just with phones, your free to imagine a completely different AU, go crazy fr,

Warnings/Tags: Reader hits Cassian, illusions to smut, very suggestive, lots of making out, big possessive energy throughout all of this. Beginning of BDSM scene because you know Azriel is FREAKYYY. Slight Dom/Sub dynamics. Fluff, slight angst, mostly just steamy. NOT proofread because I ain't doing all that. Minors DNI

Rhysand

I couldn’t help but giggle at the TikTok Mor sent me, girlfriends, wives and mates calling their partners ‘current’ just to provoke a reaction and I slipped my phone in my pocket with a plan in my head, smiling to myself. 

A few hours later Rhysand had returned from Hewn City with a gift and it was the perfect opportunity. We both sat out on the balcony watching the sun set and he slid a hand on my thigh in exasperation as I adjusted my phone standup upright against the wine bottle. “Can you please just open your present now baby?”

“Hold on a minute I want to make a video and show it to everyone.” You reminded him gently. “Your generation and phones.” My mate muttered under his breath, eyeing the little black box warily and I couldn’t help but chuckle. Technology had evolved so fast in the last few years and it was funny to see him still be so suspicious of it. 

“Grumpy old man.” I whispered as I opened up the camera app. “What’d you just say?” Rhys warned, squeezing my thigh. “Nothing!” I smiled, giving him a quick kiss. That’s what I thought. His voice slid into my mind and I sent him a quick bolt of love down the bond before pressing the record button. 

“Hey guys! I’m here with my current” the second the word current left my mouth the hand on my thigh slid up to the back of my neck. “husband-”

I didn’t notice his other hand until he stopped and then deleted the video. “No. Try again.” 

“Sorry baby I was just joking.” “Mhmm Hmm.” I started recording another video and I purposefully didn’t make eye contact with him but it was inevitable with the small screen reflecting ourselves back and the storm in his eyes could level cities. 

His hand squeezed my neck in warning and I did my best to ignore the heat pooling low in my stomach even though I knew I was playing a dangerous game. “Hello! I’m here with my current husba-”

“Absolutely not.” My mate said, grabbing my phone and winnowing us back inside the bedroom, tossing me on the bed. He set the phone up on the nightstand and pointed it towards my form on the mattress. “Wh-What are you doing?” I asked nervously, moving myself up towards the headboard and doing my best to stay out of view of the still recording camera.

Rhys walked to the end of the bed undoing his cuffs while he did so and I let out a barely audible whimper at the sight. He looked dangerous and absolutely furious. “Since you're obsessed with that little phone so much…”His voice trailed off as he eyed me hungrily, grabbing my ankles and yanking me back into view of the camera and further down the mattress. Rhysand crawled up my body, pressing tantalizing slow kisses to my skin as he did so. 

“We’re not leaving this bed until you correct your mistakes.” He said darkly, his mouth finally connecting with mine, barely giving me a chance to catch my breath as he dominated my tongue with his own. Purposefully claiming every inch of my mouth and I could practically taste that furious dark power simmering underneath his skin. 

Well it looks like I am never posting this video and Rhys chased away any other thoughts as he swallowed a strangled moan from me, somehow deepening the kiss. 

Lucien

“Hey baby?” I called out from my vanity chair. Lucien opened the adjoining bathroom door, a towel slung low on his hips and steam curling into the bedroom. “Yeah?” He asked as he walked over to me, patting his wet hair with a separate hand towel. 

My eyes ran appreciatively up and down his body and he gave me a wink. He paused walking behind me. “Do you remember what you need or you get distracted sugar?” 

“Oh shut up.” I rolled my eyes, finally twisting myself towards the mirror and pulling my gaze away from his muscled body. “I'm making a bedtime routine video. Do you want to be in it?” 

“Hopefully not all of your bedtime routine because I play a pretty active role in it-”

“Lucien!” 

“Ok ok!” He said putting his hands up in surrender even as I stifled a laugh. “Yes I want to be in it baby.” He stepped closer, still pretty tall from behind my chair so he lowered himself slightly and wrapped his arms around my torso. I smiled, melting into his touch before setting up the phone and hitting record. “Hey! So I’m going to be filming a nighttime routine with my current husband-”

“What did you just say?” Lucien interrupted me, standing to his full height and putting his hands on his hips, that towel almost slipping. I turned in my seat to face him. “I said we’re going to be doing a nighttime routine like I told you-”

“No no no after that?” 

“What’s your problem? Can we please just make the video?” I asked, doing my best to put my innocent face on even as I fought a smile at his furious expression. 

“Did you forget who I am, baby? Your mate. M A T E. Mate.” He looked at the camera with furrowed brows and for a second I thought I saw hurt flashing across his face before it turned into something darker, something more feral. He snatched my phone and stopped recording. Tossing it in the bathroom. “Hey, that's my phone!”

Lucien didn’t seem to listen to my protests; he just scooped me up with a small squeak. My nightgown rode up my thighs as he threw me on the bed. “It’s ok baby I’ll help you remember and make sure you won’t ever forget it.” 

Azriel

I hadn’t really been listening when the girls were telling the stories about their ‘current boyfriend’ mishaps or successes. It had been a silly trend going around but I had no interest in it, not really wanting to hurt my mate’s feelings. 

Until he started pissing me off. Working long nights. Leaving early in the morning without so much as a goodbye kiss and all this after his long mission? I felt neglected and well truly I hadn’t been bratty in a long time. 

I made a plan to get him to pay attention to me by forcing him to make a video together tomorrow in his office but he had spent this whole dinner party practically ignoring me again. Even though we were technically holding hands he was chatting it up with his brother’s like they weren’t all in Illyria for a few weeks and I was starting to get really annoyed. So he could touch me but not actually talk to me? 

No. I’m done. With a plan in mind I pulled away from Azriel’s side not seeing the confused look he gave me as I walked over to Mor and Feyre plopping down onto the ottoman next to them. “Hey girll!!” The females both slurred at the same time, very obviously drunk or at least tipsy. I smiled at them, warmth filling my chest in their presence. “Are you guys having fun?”

“Yes! Our High Lady can pa-a-rtyyyyy.” Mor cheered. “Yeah cause you infected her Mor..” Cassian chuckled from across the room. Feyre glared at the male, a clock somewhere in the house striking one in the morning. 

“What’sss that supposed to even mean? Am I not allowed to have fun? This is a celebration you have all been going for so soooo long.” She pouted, giving Rhys puppy eyes and I practically watched the High Lord melt underneath her gaze. He stepped away from his brothers, tucking a piece of hair behind her hair and sat beside her giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Of course you can darling ignore him, he’s a no good busybody.” 

“Hey!” Cassian protested and Feyre ignored him, melting into her mate’s chest with a small humph. This conversation wasn’t going in the direction I needed to piss my mate off so I steered it, turning towards Mor. “I heard you're going shopping with the girls this weekend?”

“Yes, do you want to come?”

“Maybe, since my current husband is probably busy.” I said with a small sigh. 

Azriel whirled his head around to face me and before Mor could voice whatever surprised thoughts clearly written on her face Azriel spoke first. Walking towards me and lifting my chin up to face him. “What did you just say?” His voice was lethal, dark and it had every fae in the room tensing up prepared to fight at the pure threat in his low tone. All conversation’s stopped completely, so quiet you could hear a pin drop. 

I opened my mouth to repeat it but my very drunk High Lady and friend beat me to it. “She said her current boyfriend is too busy to hangout with her so she’s going out on the town.” 

I knew everyone was watching us but I couldn’t find myself to care. Azriel’s firm grip on my chin and that deadly look in his eye had captured my full attention. “Is that so?” Azriel enunciated each word slowly. His deep voice only serves to add to his dangerous tone. 

“Mhmm Hmm.” Feyre said, nodding her head. 

I opened my mouth to respond but Azriel was already firmly guiding me up and out of my chair. Staring directly into my eyes with an intensity that had me shifting nervously on my feet. The look on his face was void of any emotion and if I hadn’t known him so long. I would’ve missed the absolute feral look in his eye. He masked it well but I knew him and I knew how deeply and utterly fucked I was. I think I fucked up. 

“Apologies Rhysand and Feyre but my mate and I have to go now. Thank you for the lovely night.” 

“You’re welcome. Have a…good night you guys.” Rhysand said and I could practically hear the smirk in his tone. Bastard. 

The shadows swirled around me in lazy circles but I had seen the occasional twitches, the tightening around my limbs and I knew they were just as anxious as Azriel was to get us away from prying eyes. 

Feyre had said something else I’d missed and as soon as she was done speaking they enveloped me completely and Mor’s voice echoed before the darkness transported us somewhere else. “Oooo girl she is in troubleeee. She not gon’ to walk tomor-” 

When the shadows dissipated I expected to find us in the bedroom, but as I slowly registered the dim lighting I quickly realized it was the playroom. Azriel was standing in front of me. The gentleness gone from his expression and he reached behind me and grabbed my hair in a ponytail pulling me close to him with a harsh tug and leaned down to whisper in my ear. “Where’s my good girl? She would’ve never acted that way tonight.” He hummed softly a clear warning and I opened my mouth to respond to defend myself, or say anything to lessen the punishment I was sure to receive but all I could do was plead. “Azriel…” 

“Shush shush I know. You just need a firm hand to bring her back to me hmm?” 

Gods I had fucked up. 

Eris 

It took a lot of convincing to get Eris sat in front of the camera, the High Lord tapping his fingers impatiently against the wood table as if he had something better to do than spend time with his mate. 

In fact I had told him just that in my plea to make a Tiktok and instead he responded with an annoyingly flirty quip about how there’s a thousand other ways we could spend time together and I had spent the night wrapped up in his arms but finally here we are. 

I pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and he softened slightly before I pressed the record button. “Hi everyone!” I chirped, shoving away the regret starting to form. I could participate in any other trend but had chosen this one, my one golden ticket to finally get him to film with me. Oh well this was payback for taking the hounds on a walk without me. 

“So I’m here with my current husband and-”

Eris’ head snapped to mine instantly, those amber eyes blazing impossibly brighter. The hand that had been impatiently tapping the table had stilled along with the rest of his form. A stillness only a predator could maintain and I shifted in my seat slightly, that heated gaze still on mine and I looked down at my hands just to avoid its burn. 

“What just came out of your mouth love?” He asked. Tone as smooth as butter and I recognized the courtier in him, the one who stole secrets with honeyed promises and poisoned touches. He lifted my chin so we made eye contact and I had forgotten how deadly my mate could be, how he’d survived years of living under Beron with a mask of calm and I had willingly opened the snake’s cage.

I opened my mouth to apologize when my phone suddenly turned to ash, the table next to go. “Eris…you’re being cruel.” I whispered carefully so many photos on that damned box and it was just gone. He gave me a cold smile and I instantly knew I was fucked. “No you haven’t seen cruel yet sweetheart.” He responded, still making direct eye contact with me in hopes to get me to squirm. Brushing a piece of my hair behind my ear, a kind gesture but I knew what it really was. A mockery, a reminder of the gentleness I could have if I hadn’t been a brat. 

The touch sent sparks down my spine and I finally hardened my gaze. His eyes only sparked with hunger at my unspoken challenge. What was that old saying? Don’t poke the bear? But there was a reason we were mates and I could handle his heat. “You know what, I'm not sorry.” I snapped, just like he wasn’t sorry for going on our morning walk without me. 

That cold smirk only grew wider, a hand lacing around my throat and one tightly wrapping around my thigh as he leaned in. “You will be.” 

Cassian

I stood next to my mate as he set up his phone, a grin plastered all over his face and I instantly knew he was up to some type of buffoonery. I just rolled my eyes and continued cutting the vegetables, chopping up the carrots with a practiced ease. “What are you doing love?” I finally asked. 

“Just making a video.” He hummed and hit the record button, coming to stand next to me so we were both in the frame.

“Hey Rhys I hope you’re doing good I’m making dinner with my current mate-”

He didn’t even get a chance to finish recording as I reached my free hand and punched him in the throat, a laugh bubbling out of my mate’s throat when I did so even as he wheezed for air.

“What did I say?” I asked him as he doubled over gasping, I dropped the knife and put my hands on my hips just watching him. “What did I say?”

“You said-” He wheezed out, letting out another choked laugh and a deep inhale for air as he struggled to regain control of his breathing and guilt tugged at me slightly. Even if I had warned him what I would do if he did this stupid fucking trend. “You…said.”

“-said you were -gonna hit me if i..” 

“Yeah, yeah and what did you do?” I asked harshly, trying to ignore the mixture of feelings rolling through me: guilt was the most present and slight pride at my form. But the bond was recoiling at my actions.

Cassian pulled on it gently. Letting me know he wasn’t mad and he even sent down his love and amusement, he knew what he was getting into to. Cassian continued laughing as he finally could breathe again which only made me angrier.

“I’m sorry. Please love, I'm so sorry.” He murmured, taking steady inhales and cautiously wrapped his arms around me from behind.

“Watch your fucking mouth or you won’t be currently living on this earth anymore.” I snapped as I picked the knife up again and started cutting the carrots, with a little more force than necessary. 

Cassian pressed his face to the side of my neck and breathed in deeply. The video is still recording but neither of us really cared. He then peppered kisses down my neck and I hummed softly, melting into his touch.

“I’m so sorry baby, I lost a bet to my brothers. it’ll never happen again. Let me make it up to you please?” He begged, a whine entering his tone, his hands obsessively grabbing my waist and holding me tight to his growing length. 

I flushed and quickly grabbed the phone and stopped recording, passing it Cassian. “Later.”  He continued to touch me as we made dinner, helping me reach the dishes on the high shelves and cutting the vegetables so I could focus on other tasks. One hand was constantly touching me as we worked side by side and brushing against me as he moved about the kitchen. 

“You know I’m proud of that punch by the way.” Cassian finally spoke, I looked up and expected to find a goofy grin on his face but all I could find was pride and I ignored the way my entire being lit up at it. “Thanks, my current mate taught it to me.” 

Cassian’s eyes sparked with a challenge, mirth dancing in them even as something darker hid behind it, pulling on the bond. He was right it was fun to mess with his instincts, he couldn’t hide the way his hands tightened around his chair. 

Before the night progressed any further a text popped up on my phone. A message from Venmo from both Rhys and Azriel with different amounts on the notification as they paid me what was due. The comment from Rhys reading: 'he should be more careful when you have a knife in hand.’

“Those bastards fucking set me up.” Cassian scoffed leaning in his chair and huffing like a small child. “Yup.” I popped the p reaching for my phone but Cassian was quicker, years of honed reflexes had him picking me up and carrying us to our bedroom in just a few quick seconds. 

“Alright enough of this damned nonsense.” He growled and I laughed, pressing myself closer to him as the night finally began.

Feyre

Feyre was seated on the breakfast nook, the morning sun reflecting off her skin and making her even more radiant. I skipped into the kitchen and pressed a kiss to her lips, my mate’s mouth chasing me as I pulled away before sitting next to her. 

“Oohh what are we eating?” I asked, eyeing the spread before me excitedly. 

“Well there’s some bacon, pancakes, fruit…” Feyre’s voice trailed off as she noticed I was already reaching for my phone to snap a picture, an amused chuckle escaping her before taking another sip of her tea. I opened the camera app looking at the picture button before deciding on a video as an idea formed. I’d just been watching those current partner videos earlier…and I selfishly wanted to see her reaction. 

I set the phone up on the vase of my favorite flowers sitting in the middle of the table hitting the record button before my mate could ask what I was doing and I ignored her silent question as she arched her brow. 

“So I’m here eating breakfast with my current wife-”

“What did you just say?” Feyre asked, choking on her tea, looking at the camera then back to me a few times. “I’m not sure if I heard you right?” 

“No, your hearing is fine love. We’re eating breakfast and you’re my curr-”

“Finish that sentence and see what happens.” Feyre said darkly, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms, eyes narrowing in on me. Fuck she was so pretty. When I remembered what we were talking about I continued the conversation for the sake of a video long sense paused unbeknownst to me.. “I’m just saying-”

“No.” She demanded, placing a hand on my thigh and squeezing in warning. “My current mate and I are eating breakfast-”

“No.” She snapped, squeezing my thigh with just a little more force and I couldn’t help but squirm, heat licking down my spine. I could tell she was close to snapping just a little more… “Fine guys. My current girlf-”

“Alright.” Feyre growled, reaching over and breaking my phone in half with a surprising strength, her power surging and tainting the air briefly. “Feyre!” I gasped standing up in shock. “It seems my pretty little mate wants to play games with me.” Was all she said before throwing me over her shoulder and carrying me upstairs. Fucking Finally. 

Nesta

Nesta and I were all wrapped up in our bed, leaning against the headboard hair wet from our earlier bath together and I curled into her shoulder even more so I could be closer to her and also so I could see her phone more clearly as she scrolled through Tiktok. 

A voice played from the speakers. The female on the screen doing another one of those current boyfriend videos with the male right next to her throwing a fit. I giggled a little bit and Nesta looked down at me with a serious expression taking over her face. “I will kill you if you do that to me. I’m serious, don't even think about it.” 

I knew her struggles and the things she’d overcome, it would be disrespectful to poke fun at old wounds just for the sake of a few likes. I nodded and moved so I was straddling her thighs. “Didn’t even cross my mind baby you’re stuck with me for life I’m afraid.” 

She smiled, a genuine one and my heart sang at the fact I was able to pull it from her. 

Elain

I finally found Elain in the kitchen and I walked up behind her wrapping my arms around her torso and pressing a kiss to the juncture of her throat. “Missed you.” I murmured. She hummed happily, leaning against me and rubbing those callused hands along my arms as she turned to give me a proper kiss. One in which I greedily indulged her.

Finally when we pulled away she mumbled a breathless “Missed you too.” When I noticed the camera that was recording. I gave Elain a questioning look. “I’m making a tutorial on how to make my famous lavender cookies!”

“You’re going to share the recipe with the entire world and not me?” I grumbled unhappily and she chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to my nose to get me to calm down. “That’s because I’m supposed to cook them for you, not the other way around. You know the rules in my house.” 

I rolled my eyes and washed my hands before coming back to Elain’s side to help her. She arched an accusing brow at me. “What?! I can cook. I'm great in the kitchen.”

“Sure you are.” She said, not so subtly rolling her eyes. “Just introduce me to your little viewers.” 

“Alright guys this is…” She paused and I could practically see the wheels turning in her head, a mischievous smile playing at the corners of her lips. “My current wife and she’s going to help me finish up.”

I paused what I was doing, putting the measuring cup down so I could look at my mate, who was intentionally avoiding eye contact. “Baby you said current wife.”

She just hummed and I put a hand on my hip, snatching her phone up, and deleting the video. “Hey!” 

“Nuh uh, cause I am not the one Elain Acheron. Your cookies are for me and me only, your mate. Not your current wife, or wife, or girlfriend or one of those little side-”

“You mean my friends?”

“I am definitely not one of your friends.” I grabbed her by the hips and set her on the counter, pressing myself between her legs. “Fix it. Now.” 

“You’re my mate. My beautiful, lovely, very possessive mate.”

“And....”

“And I love you very much and I’m yours.”

“Yeah that’s what I thought.” I grumbled, pressing my mouth to hers and invading her with my tongue, trying to etch my lovely mate into my very soul and being even further than she already was.

[prisonhannibal]

Help Ghada and his family survive the genocide

€5,656 raised out of €20,000

Ghada is a 32 year old man with a bachelors degree in information technology and a great job and many dreams, but this was taken from him when the genocide started and his workplace was destroyed and the company stopped operating. Since then, him and his family have experienced unimaginable pain and struggle, and were forced to flee their beautiful home when it was destroyed. They’ve now been displaced multiple times, to tents in Rafah, and now to Central Gaza. He still doesn’t know how long it’ll be safe to stay until it could happen again.

His father Nabil is 62, and used to be a business owner, but his business was destroyed. Ghada’s mother Fatima is 57. His brother Khaled is only 23 years old, but had already achieved a bachelor in accounting and a great job. The genocide has taken so much of their dreams and what they’ve worked hard for all their lives, they’ve lost their careers and home, please help make sure it doesn’t take their lives as well. Ghada helps support not only his immediate family but also other family members and their kids

Living with the constant risk of infectious illnesses, being displaced again, and bombs is exhausting and terrifying. Most of us are lucky enough that we will never fully understand how terrifying it is. On top of this, food prices are constantly rising and it’s difficult to get access to safe drinking water. They have suffered from health problems and malnutrition as a result of the conditions they live in, but do not have access to treatment or adequate food.

Please remember the risk of future displacements are also a factor, as transportation costs are high and they might have to leave their belongings, so donations can also help relieve the fear in that situation. Can you imagine having to flee from bombs and still having to worry about if you can even afford it?

Ghada and his family deserve a chance to get to safety so they can recover from what they’ve gone through and rebuild their dreams that they worked so hard for until the occupation cruelly took it from them. You may feel powerless to stop what is happening, but none of us are ever powerless to make a change. Today, that change could be helping Ghada. If you have anything to give today, please donate, the money will go to their survival in Gaza and eventually evacuation when the border opens.

You can follow Ghada on his account @ghadafamily11 to support him and keep sharing his story. Your help can save their lives and show him that the world still cares and will never abandon them

DONATE HERE + VETTING (#6 on the spreadsheet)

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[divinit3a]

oneshot: out of character -> ao3 link reader x mer animatronic!moon 🌊 word count: 3,403

Working at a Fazbear animatronic theme park hadn't really been your dream, but it is your current reality.

At first, you were starry-eyed. Clocking in each day at a place that brings out the magic of imagination. Revamped from its first attempt that mysteriously burnt down after a rigorous police investigation, inexplicably refurbished into a half VR game center, half water-park. You’d bet the money that fuels such an over-the-top offshoot for the franchise pumps in from the Pizzaplex the next city over.

The ambition of the two owners who picked up the business manifested into a massive aquarium at the center, home to mechanized sea life. Animatronics of all shapes and sizes, perfect replicas of their real life counterparts. Plus or minus a more vivid, appealing, toy-selling color palette. 

The multi-level aquarium showcases beautiful spectacles of engineering that allow all creatures of the deep to intermingle without the limitations of reality. You’ve stood in the tunnels that wind throughout the first floor on the slow moving tracks before, looking around with awe and wonder at the flittering sharks and jumping dolphins. A whale would float by now and then, casting a great shadow across the tunnels as everyone hurried to snap a photo.

Ferry rides are offered at an exuberant price to float atop the largest of the decorative tanks, where a stationary mermaid animatronic waves with a pleasant smile. You stopped going to the ferry rides after they replaced the human staff with the admittedly rather creepy, blank-staring bots and their pre-recorded voice lines. 

Despite all the splendor surrounding you, the position of 'general maintenance' tends to become lackluster after cleaning up one too many barf piles near the food courts. Or being tasked with fishing cellphones out of the tops of tanks, enduring the hellish fury of whichever parent you had the misfortune of relaying the lost or damaged items policy to. Rattling off of a lengthy speech of ‘we wont pay for this,’ in corporate, smiley, customer-service-y terms. 

You sigh, pushing a heavy mop forward as music thrums through your ear buds. You take a moment to rest your head against your curled up hands at the top of the handle, listening to the last few seconds of the track, before popping the ear buds out one by one and shoving them into your jacket pockets. 

The slow drip of a faucet welcomes you back to cold, harsh reality. The last hour or more of your life was spent sopping up the ick that countless shoes tracked in and out the restroom facility throughout the day. 

By now, the sun is setting over the horizon line. You always pick up the latest shifts in the day. The overnight security staff are your regular acquaintances. You’ve bribed the main desk guy into being your ride-or-die with sugary, outdated donuts.  

There's a ding on your pager. You lean the broom handle on the brick wall, which is plastered with Chica and Roxanne themed posters that encourage handwashing. As you rest the mop, you falter to catch it from falling over, as the damn thing could never just stay put. Once you’ve prevented the disaster of the mop tipping over, you check the pager again, missing the glitching and rearranging of the letters on screen. 

Honestly, the technology is considerably retro compared to what's out on the market; looking more like a terminal you’d see in a sci-fi movie, or perhaps a calculator that would be chucked at a classmate in second grade. 

What greets you is an open-ended service ticket for the Haunted Shipwreck. You quirk an eyebrow. The exhibit was usually cleaned diligently by daytime staff in preparation for opening in the evening. Spruced up by the folks who worked at the bar, and the poor teenage saps who had to stand in the queue lines scanning tickets. The ‘ride’ was part of the finale of the virtual reality storyline that guests could pay a premium price to experience, connecting all the dots of the theme park’s attractions together. 

Plus, it was the only place that served alcohol after five pm. The specialty drinks are so neon and vivid that the sugar content has to be astronomical. 

Parents flock there like it is truly an oasis in a kiddy-park desert. 

Scratching at your head, you walk in a circle as you read the details, or lack thereof. The ticket reads, 'Exhibition needs spot cleaning.' Spot cleaning? A whole exhibit? Your thumb hovers over the button to accept the task. It beats mopping bathroom tiles any day.

You wring out the mop into its bucket, and begin the tedious task of ferrying cleaning supplies from one area to the next. On your way out, you sling the heft of a tool bag over your shoulder. 

_____________________________________

The scent of lemony freshness follows you in hot pursuit. You shove open the doors to the exhibit with a “Hello?”, expecting another person or two from the maintenance crew to have accepted the job. Cleaning a whole attraction on your lonesome did not bode well for the ‘no overtime’ policy. 

The response you get is absolute silence.

You feel along the wall for a light switch, and then remember that this is an amusement park, not a hotel. The controls for the area’s lights are all in the breaker room out back. Locked away with a key that is not in your possession. With a sigh, you fish out a flashlight from your tool bag and continue to wheel your cart in.

Without music blaring through the hidden speakers, or patrons milling through the bar onto the dance floor, the main atrium of the ride feels as haunted as its namesake. Grumbling, you pull out your pager and look down. The screen is blank, as if the task had never existed at all. 

Before you can question the disappearing act, spotlights turn on. A deafening click causes you to jolt and nearly drop the device.  

You look up, and are face to face with the animatronic who prowls the exhibit. Your lungs temporary pause all function as your heart works in overdrive. 

Above you is an elaborate trick of puppetry. A skeletal siren with a face as white as bone is frozen in place, with its arms outstretched as if it had been reaching towards you in the darkness to swipe you up. Thin, transparent plastic that shimmers like true fish scales acts as webbing between its sharp claws.

A billowing tail snakes like a serpent atop most of the area’s ceiling, weaving around the lighting system. The tip of its tailfin is curled around the rafters, as if supporting its weight. But that couldn’t be true; as a large cord connects into its back. Following the tubing leads to the pulley system which keeps it on predictable tracks. 

One eye is cyan. The other eye is entirely a deep crimson, casting an eerie glow across your face. The eye with the cyan pupil trembles. 

“Jeez, you scared me!” You say, too shocked to catch yourself before talking with an inanimate puppet.

The robotic siren, Moon, stares at you, not budging from its post. The lack of movement makes it feel more and more like a statue. You feel silly for speaking to it directly. 

But you remember: there's a person whose entire job is to spend the day operating these guys. To keep them lifelike, same as the free-roam 'animatronics' that are actually just staff in sweaty old mascot suits. Learning the truth as an employee had dimmed the magic of the theme park, but you still admit that it is an impressive work of robotics, especially considering the aquarium. 

“Are you still on for the night? Ride’s shut down,” You ask, pushing through the lingering fear you felt from the brief scare. During off-season the park closes earlier and is open about half the days, meaning that Haunted Shipwreck is mostly operational Friday and Saturday. Today is a Wednesday. You didn’t expect the elusive staff who controls the two mermaid animatronics to be on duty. 

In response, the animatronic's massive tail slaps against the faux rocky terrain that decorates its elaborate enclosure. Moon lands back on the main stage it perches on during performances. Without the constant spray of dry ice to create the illusion of fog, and the bright red lighting, the siren lacks the intimidating flare you expect.

“Well, I'm here to clean. That's all.” You rest your hands at your sides, settling your thumbs into the belt loops. 

Moon peers at you. Then it rolls over onto its back. The wires controlling its electronics flatten against the surface as it settles into place. You blink as you stare at a 'belly-up' fish. Its hands rest into a t-rex, claw-like position at its sides, as if it wasn’t used to laying down, either, and instantly felt awkward. 

“Oh,” You exclaim, wrapping your head around the vague task you accepted. At last, you understand who – or what, needs cleaning: the animatronic itself. There’s gum stuck to its sculpted fins and a few pieces of paper wedged into the joints that segment its torso from its abdomen, limiting its range of motion. 

A cruel prank, regardless of the recipient’s ability to feel discomfort. 

You set your tool bag down on the floor and stumble up the plastic molded rocks, right past the ‘DO NOT CLIMB’ sign. All things considered, the ‘spot cleaning’ looks like an easy project to finish off your shift. 

You sit on your knees next to the animatronic. 

You start by pulling the paper jammed into its torso hinge out. You brace a palm against its side, and carefully tug. Hearing the papers tear makes you curse softly under your breath. 

The animatronic watches, and then bends its torso hinge away, giving you easier access to pull the shredded bits out. 

You begin to notice that all the papers jammed inside the robot are actually posters and pamphlets that you can pick up for free at the photo kiosk a room over. Strange. 

Taking a second to indulge your curiosity, you inspect one of the postcards. 

The front of the card is split into two; the daytime half, Sun, spritely and bright on the left. And his cursed form that haunts the seas at night, Moon, in an ominous dark silhouette on the right. A few of these are even lenticular prints that you can shift back and forth, but those have to be bought at the complimentary gift shop at the end of the ride.  

The depicted dark, jagged silhouette of Moon is a sharp contrast to the docile animatronic beside you. Existing to be ‘vanquished’ time and time again, by brave patrons, in order to free Sun from the shackles of an evil witch’s hex. 

The witch character is set to debut at long last in a few months.

You find yourself smiling at the memories of watching the performance for the first time; the smoke and mirrors of the robots being switched out on stage to masquerade as one feat of engineering. The silly story never fails to be engaging, with how much production was poured into making Sun’s character so lifelike and memorable.

Now that you think about it, you wonder why Moon never got the same treatment. You look up to see that the ‘cursed siren’ on your mind is staring right at you, almost expectantly. Beneath its chassis where your palms rest is a soft, insistent hum of machinery, fans set to medium gear. It points to a piece of paper you missed under its arm socket. You lean closer to dig in, their gaze burning into the back of your head. 

The silence as you work on the clean-up becomes increasingly uncomfortable. Even more so when you consider that whoever is tasked with puppeting Moon is still up in the server room, no doubt working past their shift’s end to make your job easier by maneuvering the siren this way and that. 

Though, you wonder why the puppeteer didn't just meet you at Haunted Shipwreck themself to talk it through. Must be some kind of NDA, or lack of a remote control.

By the time you are scraping gum off glittering scales, you decisively break the ice with, “Y'know, Im surprised. I thought you'd be home by now,” beginning the idle, one-sided chatter. Just because you are here on business, doesn’t mean the exchange had to be so clinical. Your quiet companion shows that its listening by flicking the long fin that adorns its head. Bright cyan tracks your every movement with what feels like intense curiosity.

While you work, you take out the pager to check on your tasks for the night. In an instant, Moon swipes it, moving faster than you can comprehend. They slither away from you with shocking speed, cable attached to its back whirring to keep up with the momentum. 

“Hey! Give that back!” You reach up, fingertips brushing off the smooth scales upon its long, imposing tail. Up above, the animatronic fiddles with the pager. Frustration ripples off it as its hands clunkily tap away at the tiny, human-sized keyboard. 

“Don't break it, c'mon, it'll come out of my paycheck!” You swat at the robot whose mid-air. You gasp at the audacity it has to curl its tail inward and away from you. An unfair game of keep-away. 

Moon turns the screen of the pager back to you. 'Thank you,' is typed out in simplistic, boxy letters. You blink, staring at the screen as the pager is gingerly placed back in your hands, claws ghosting across your arms. The siren pulls back quickly. Moon fidgets with the hem of its costuming, a subtle act of nerves that trips you up even worse.

“You—you're welcome.” You stumble on your words, not quite sure why the sentiment is so shocking. But it feels like it came from the robot itself—whoever ran these guys was committed to staying in character. Even to other staff. You admire the dedication.

The robot leers down at you. Pupils burning, an unsettling lack of expression except for a wide-eyed stare that never relents the pressure it exerts. A hand extends out, and it takes a moment for you to realize that its asking for the pager back. Dumbstruck, you comply without a second thought. The robot taps away at the keyboard, dwarfed by its palms. You hear the click-click-click of the backspace button as it shakes its faceplate.

The pager returns to you. After all its effort, only one word is on the screen: 'Again.'

“Again?” You repeat aloud, looking up at Moon with confusion. The robot continues to fidget, before nodding so quickly in confirmation, that you are worried you'll need to send in a ticket to fix its neck hinge. That sort of job goes to the on-sight mechanics who the company contracts, not a regular maintenance guy like you. “You'd... like me to stop by, again?” You guess, and Moon's nerves boil over. The tracks in the ceiling creak as the creature 'swims' all around you, showcasing flashes of glittering fins and the faintest glint of sharp fangs beneath its flowing collar. With the blur of violet, magenta, and crimson swirling around you, its like being in the middle of a shark swarm— without any of the fear. 

Because you take the boundless enthusiasm to mean, 'yes.'

”Okay, okay. I will,“ You laugh at the strange antics, charmed by how earnest the supposedly wicked siren can be. You don’t know much about Moon's character here at the park; he was intentionally left mysterious to add to the villainous flare. Or perhaps, to excuse the lack of forethought into an antagonist designed for a theme park. So, to see him instead doing several aerial laps around the perimeter of the shipwreck, you can't help but find them endearing.

Your pager dings, reminding you that there is twenty minutes before your shift ends, and one bathroom facility left half-mopped in your haste. 

“It was nice meeting you,” You hesitate—you have no idea who this person is. You stare into the lens of the animatronic’s eyes, pondering who was watching you back on the camera feed. 

Maybe the two of you could get lunch sometime off the clock, away from the prying of corporate eyes. Perhaps they are nervous to break character. You glance to the security camera in the corner, and back, ”...Moon,” you decide to call them by the character they play, for the time being. 

The siren lurches toward you. 

You reel back, almost slipping on the plastic rocks.

Spindly limbs wrap around you, catching you from your fall, and—Oh.

You blink, struggling to keep up. The wretched siren of the coast is giving you a hug. The fabric of its costume sleeves is silky and smooth, and almost bundles you up like a tarp.   

”O-okay, then.” You pat at the back of the animatronic. Its staring at you so seriously with massive, leering eyes, that you are struggling not to buckle under the stress. The pressure Moon exerts is light, but spikes your heart rate regardless. Your feet are almost off the ground, balancing on the heels of your work boots as you tilt back. You aren’t looking to go for a swim, or to be put on medical leave from a concussion. 

“That’s, um, very sweet, thank you, Moon.” You tap its arms next to indicate you’re ready to be let go of. You find your cheeks flushing in embarrassment, wondering if the animatronic’s puppeteer thinks its amusing to scare you with this level of whiplash. Maybe it is funny to them, to make the theme park's aloof villain act all cuddly for one-on-one exchanges. 

“There we go—nice and easy,” you find yourself narrating, as the siren deliberately sets you back down on the floor. Not back onto the rocks; no, it cranes you over to main floor, where you run a much smaller risk of falling on uneven terrain. 

Walking over to collect your belongings, you shrug your tool bag over your shoulder, and place a hand on the handle of your cleaning cart.

The animatronic waves you off, watching with interest as you shove your way out the door. A glimpse of the outside world, the low lights of the shut-down park and the infinite expanse of the night sky.

You stop in the doorway, prolonging the moment, “Have a good night, Moon.” The animatronic stays perfectly still, playing its role. Poised with elegance and a threatening aura. The sight leaves you with chills, although you hardly had reason to fear the animatronic, or its friendly puppeteer.

The door closes.

A pause. 

Moon stays put until they can no longer hear the roll of your cart. Then it springs up. Pacing back and forth, tail moving as smoothly as kelp in the current, weaving through decorative pillars that sell the illusion of being underwater, trapped in a shipwreck. The sliding of the wire on its tracks plays a symphony as it maneuvers around. Feeling–feeling, like it did something right, by doing something terribly wrong. The sensation was so complex that it keeps cataloguing every second.

Moon couldn't believe that tampering with a maintenance ticket actually worked. A small, small chance that anyone would pick up the task he made up— jamming postcards into its segments in a fury to make the objective believable, once someone had actually said 'yes.'

The cord above squeals, and Moon realizes it needs to relax, less it break its ability to move within its small, small world. 

Settling back down, the siren sits on its lonely perch with a glimmer of hope–that you'll be back again the next night, and the next, and the next. After all, you spoke to them with such ease. Most everyone pretends he’s nothing more than a glorified stage prop. Doomed with an underutilized, elaborate AI on the same caliber as all the others in the park, who roam freely. Who get to interact, learn, and grow daily; who get to make friends and play so many games.  

Until next time, they'll work on their communication. Study the humans who walk through its exhibit closer and closer. Experiment with how to evoke emotions beyond fear.

Their tail thumps, eager to continue daydreaming throughout the rest of its cycle spent awake.