#and there are some dreams that are incomplete without love

[buttered-milky]

The sea-longing thing really gets to me. Legolas longed for something so deeply that it was like life had a hole, and yet if he sailed before the fellowship had died his life would have still had a void in it. That chapter had to be closed before he could sail. And then also he took Gimli with him because he had no intention of leaving Gimli to a past chapter of his life. Gimli was always meant to continue to the story with him, and elf heaven was not going to be heaven without him. Gimli had to be present or the void would still be there. I think about this. A lot

[meleeyz]

┈﹒ ꒰ 𝗩𝗜𝗞𝗧𝗢𝗥'𝗦 𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗥𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗜𝗖𝗘 ꒱

ekko 𝒙 fem!reader ┊ viktor 𝒙 fem!reader (platonic)

୨୧ English is not my first language, so I regret in advance if something reads weird or is misspelled

୨୧ I don't know, I just thought it would be a fun dynamic, enjoy!

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

𓆤 Ekko crashing into you on his hoverboard was how it all began. It happened during one of your hurried trips back to Zaun after a grueling week in Piltover’s laboratories. You were distracted, engrossed in your mental checklist of materials Viktor had asked you to bring. You didn't even notice the faint whir of Ekko’s hoverboard until it was too late.

“Hey, watch—” Ekko started, his voice sharp with alarm before cutting off mid-sentence as the two of you collided.

You landed flat on your back with a groan, Viktor's precious schematics flying out of your bag. Ekko was quick to get up and extend a hand to help you up.

“Oh crap, I didn’t mean to—uh, are you okay?” Ekko asked with a sheepish grin.

“You should really watch where you’re going!” you snapped, brushing yourself off. Then your eyes locked. It was hard to stay mad at someone who looks like they actually cared.

From then on, every return trip to Zaun seemed incomplete without bumping into him, either by accident or by his deliberate attempts to "run into" you.

𓆤 Ekko had mixed feelings about your constant back-and-forth trips. He understood why you had to be in Piltover so much—your apprenticeship under Viktor was important—but that didn’t mean he liked it.

“You know, it’s kinda unfair,” he said one evening, as the two of you sat on the rooftop of a crumbling Zaun building. The view of the Undercity's twinkling lights stretched around you, and the new prototype of his hoverboard leaned against the nearby wall. “Piltover gets you all day, and Zaun just gets you at night.”

𓆤 Ekko loved your sharp mind. In fact, he found your involvement with Hextech fascinating, even if he teased you endlessly about being a “Piltover nerd.”

“Look at you, little Miss Zaunite Hextech Genius,” he’d say with a smirk as he watched you tinker with a device. “All fancy with your gears and crystals. Can you make something that doesn’t explode?”

You rolled your eyes.

“This is for science. Not for impressing you.”

“Oh, but you already impress me.” He’d wink, leaning over your shoulder to inspect your work. His genuine curiosity often led to him offering ideas that somehow worked, despite his lack of formal training. You suspected his innate knack for mechanics rivaled even Viktor’s.

𓆤 Ekko would often stop by you house in Undercity unannounced, bringing little gifts—scrap metal he thought you could use or metal flowers that he made with his own hands for you

𓆤 You, in turn, would surprise him with modifications for his hoverboard or gadgets to help the Firelights. His reaction to your gifts was always the same: pure delight.

𓆤 Leaving aside the jokes, he loved watching you work, claiming it was “like seeing genius in action.” You’d laugh and tell him to stop distracting you, but his presence always made the hours fly by.

𓆤 The two of you shared countless late-night conversations on rooftops, swapping dreams and fears.

𓆤 It started subtly. Ekko’s laugh lingered in your mind longer than it should have. His voice, the way he said your name, echoed in your thoughts while you worked. You found yourself doodling in the margins of your notes, spiraling into daydreams that left you blushing.

𓆤 Viktor initially didn’t think much of Ekko—at least not directly. He only knew of him through your constant chatter.

“Ekko said this really clever thing about—” “Ekko helped me figure out how to—” “Ekko...”

Eventually, Viktor sighed and set down his pen.

“I can’t believe you’re getting so worked up about some guy,” he said, exasperation lacing his words.

“This one is different!” you protested, fidgeting with a loose thread on your sleeve. “He’s honest, he’s sweet—”

“Please…”

“He would never do anything to hurt me!”

Viktor raised an eyebrow.

“He’s a guy.”

“He’s also... brilliant. And kind... and handsome... and—”

“Oh shit, here we go again…” He exhaled, completely tired.

𓆤 The meeting happened in Piltover, under less-than-ideal circumstances. You’d convinced the Academy to grant you temporary access to the lab for a personal project, ostensibly Hextech-related. In truth, you were helping Ekko repair an broken stabilizer for the Firelights

You thought you were being sneaky. You were wrong.

Viktor appeared in the doorway, cane tapping against the marble floor. His eyes immediately landed on the device in Ekko’s hands and then flicked to you.

“And what,” he asked dryly, “is going on here?”

Ekko froze, looking like a child caught stealing candy. You scrambled to explain, words tumbling out in a panicked mess.

To your surprise, Viktor didn’t explode. Instead, he regarded Ekko with quiet intensity. After a long pause, he nodded.

“You have talent,” he said to Ekko. “Perhaps more than you deserve.”

Ekko grinned, clearly amused. “Thanks? I think?”

From then on, Viktor tolerated Ekko’s presence, though he would often sigh dramatically whenever you brought him up in conversation.

𓆤 The news of Viktor’s declining health hit you like a blow. For all his brilliance, your mentor was mortal, and the idea of losing him felt unbearable. You confided in Ekko, who held you as you cried, his quiet strength grounding you.

“He’s proud of you, you know,” Ekko said softly, stroking your back. “He might not say it, but he is.”

Those words stayed with you, offering comfort during the hardest days.

𓆤 As Viktor’s condition worsened, he grew more reflective. One day, he called you into his office. You found him gazing out the window, his frail frame silhouetted against the light.

“You’ve been a good apprentice,” he said without turning around. “Better than I deserved.”

“Don’t say that,” you whispered, your throat tight.

He turned to face you, his expression soft despite the lines of pain etched into his face.

“I’m sorry I won’t be there for your wedding day.”

Your eyes widened.

“What—?”

“I’m not blind,” he said with a faint smile. “Or deaf. That boy... he makes you happy.”

Tears welled in your eyes.

“He does.”

“Then go to him,” Viktor said gently. “And live. Live, my dear. Work, yes, but also live. With him.”

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

[electricgg]

Ancient Dreams In A Modern Land

Chapter 12: Don’t Wanna Drive Another Mile Without Knowin’ You’re Breathin’

Masterlist

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 (Here!)

Twins are two halves of the same whole.

In many mythologies, twins are said to share a bond deeper than that of ordinary siblings. 

The bond between twins is often described as unique and incredibly strong, starting even before birth and potentially lasting a lifetime. This bond is frequently characterized by a deep connection, a sense of oneness, and a high degree of nonverbal communication.

Never one without the other. 

Not even in death.

Pietro had never known life without Wanda. 

The thought had never crossed his mind; it simply wasn’t a possibility to him. The sky was blue. The grass is green. Ice is cold. Fire is hot.

Pietro and Wanda, never one without the other.

Pietro and Wanda, always beside each other.

Pietro and Wanda, never far away from one another.

Pietro and Wanda, against the world and never away from each other.

Pietro didn’t exist without Wanda, and Wanda didn’t exist without Pietro. Sounded simple and logical, right? 

It sucks that the universe seemed to have a vendetta against the Maximoff family and loved to see them act as it’s puppets in the scenario of it’s favorite dramatic tragedy play.

Pietro had never known life without Wanda, and he refused to do so.

Three years. Three years since he last saw her. Three years since The Hex. Three years looking for her across the globe. Three years of dead ends and false alarms. Three years of nonstop searches. Three years without Wanda.

Three long years, feeling incomplete.

He could describe it as phantom pain. A missing limb, or more exactly, missing half of his body. There had been countless times when he had turned his head to cross looks with eyes that were no longer there. Times when he had talked to the empty air, expecting a voice to answer back. So many times, his fingers tried to grasp thin, long, gloved fingers just to curl them into tight fists or pull at the seams of his clothes until the fabric tore off.

Erik (whom Pietro had slowly warmed up to call Pops, especially after Wanda had gone… after he started to search for her) had made it his mission to get Pietro out of his spiraling thoughts whenever this would happen.

Pietro had rejected his efforts at first, snapping at him and telling him to mind his own business. Hurling insults and harsh words at him, or speeding away from the man as soon as he felt his stare on him.

But Erik didn’t let his attitude affect him. He was a patient man, and though Pietro was the opposite of patient, he knew his son was bound to crumble at some point from pushing himself so hard.

Erik would be there, waiting with open arms to catch his son when he wouldn’t be able to hold himself together any longer.

And he did.

──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ────

Genosha was always open to the X-Men, despite their history with Magneto and the Brotherhood of Mutants.

Pietro had gone a few times with the team. But most of the visits were with Wanda at his side, trying to get him and their father to bond with each other despite his obvious animosity towards the older man. 

He knew what she was trying to do. Pietro had always known that Wanda wanted a family.

Their story was complicated, to say the least. The two of them had been raised by their maternal uncles, their mother having passed away a few months after giving birth to them. Not a single clue of who their father was until they reached the age of nineteen.

Back then, Pietro had been ecstatic to know about him. Even convincing Wanda to find him and finally meet him face to face.

Of course, that all went to hell when the twins had an encounter with Magneto, trying to destroy governments with his group of loyal mutants in the name of getting justice and rights for their people.

It wasn’t the best introduction, obviously.

Especially when the twins joined the brotherhood without telling the man of their blood relation.

For multiple years, Pietro and Erik’s relationship became a lot more complicated. He grew tired very quickly of his father’s constant need to ‘destroy humankind’, and spiteful of his lack of acknowledgment for his efforts to get him noticed by Erik.

Which led to him quitting the Brotherhood with Wanda and joining the X-Men… after doing a very dramatic reveal that resembled that Star Wars movie, but with switched roles.

As said before, a very complicated relationship.

Nonetheless, Pietro’s instincts led him to the only place his subconsciousness currently recognized as ‘home’.

Why was it Genosha, or more specifically, his father’s house, that he recognized as home? Who knows. 

Was it just the place that resembled his childhood home uncannily? 

Or was it the person who instantly walked out of the door to take him into his arms and shove him against his chest, consoling him while his limbs trembled out of exhaustion, adrenaline, and hopelessness as he wailed loud enough to make glass shatter?

Was home a place or a person? Pietro knew the answer.

Wanda was his home.

His home was gone.

But his father was here. Muttering to him in his mother tongue, words that Pietro did not understand, but judging by the soft tone and gentle, jagged hands going up and down his back and through his hair, he knew what Erik was doing.

“I-I can’t-,” His voice sounded strained and rough, words spilling too fast between sobs. “I don’t feel her. I can’t see her. I can’t find her. She won’t let me find her-”

“She is not ready,” Erik muttered. “She’ll come to us when she is ready.”

“I need her.” He sobbed, fingers clutching at his father’s shirt. “I can’t go on like this. I’m lost. I’m so fucking lost- and I just need to know if she is alive-”

“She is,” the older man declared. “You know that she is stronger than us. She is in pain, Pietro. Give her time.”

“Her pain is my pain!” He screams. “ She doesn’t have to do it alone! She mourns, and I mourn with her! It’s always been like this!”

His body slumps down, the adrenaline shutdown hitting way too fast. If it weren’t for the fact that Erik was already holding him, he would have eaten the dirt. The man didn’t even make a sound when the white headed boy stopped holding his body weight back.

They stayed outside until the next morning. Erik never moved him away, didn’t even complain about kneeling for those long hours or the shattered windows. Pietro only cried until he passed out in his father’s arms, and even then, tears still spilled out of his eyes.

That day, it had marked a year since Wanda’s disappearance.

That day, Pietro and Erik’s relationship became less complicated.

──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ────

It was a very rocky start, but it had turned out alright in Pietro’s opinion.

“What has you so deep in your thoughts, my son?” 

Erik seemed to have been watching him this whole time. He stood by the door of his room, looking at him with clear concern on his face.

Pietro had a bedroom at Erik’s house. Apparently, his old man had been more sentimental than he gave him credit for. From the moment Genosha was established as an official country, Erik added numerous rooms to his house, two of which were located directly next to his own room. One for Pietro and another for Wanda, who had stayed there a couple of times when she came to visit Erik by herself. Both Erik and Pietro would sit for hours on her bed in silence, simply letting time pass by.

“Nothin’,” He muttered, sighing deeply as he leaned back against the headboard of his bed. “Just got off a call with Hank.”

“That sounds like there’s more to that call.” His father approached a chair by his desk, which was filled with intricate LEGO figures. Both unfinished and finished.

…So what if he was a full-grown man who liked to build Legos as a pastime? He has already broken plenty of Rubik's cubes and fidget toys. He needed to keep his hands busy, and Legos worked, so sue him for finding a coping mechanism.

And it wasn’t like his dad judged him for it.  All those boxes he finds weekly on the dinner table are answer enough.

Pietro shrugged, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth as he scratched his head. “Just- I’m just helping him out with someone.”

That made Erik lift an eyebrow. “Someone?”

“Yeah, a kid,” his voice softened. “She has been melting off her shoes because of her mutation, so I let Hank look into my stats so he could make her something more resistant.”

“Ah, so she has super speed.”

The younger man smiled to himself, “Looks like it. Logan is keeping an eye on her and a couple of more kids. Something about a case, I think?”

“And why is this keeping you so deep in your thoughts?” His father asked slowly, as if hesitating to pry too much.

Probably because he already knew the answer.

Pietro went silent for a few moments, eyes wandering to the window showcasing the orange evening sky. A suncatcher was hanging from the top corner, letting the light reflect through the crystal.

Wanda had made it for him a few years back.

“Twins sometimes represent opposites. Like the Sun and the Moon,” she had said while handing him the gift. “You are my Sun, Piet. The Moon can’t shine without it.”

“Wanda’s oldest was just like me,” He said. “Same mutation. Same attitude.”

‘Same personality, too,’ his mind supplied, which got a wet chuckle from him.

He rubbed his nose quickly, gaze lowering down as he shrugged. “Guess it hit a bit too close, y’know?”

Erik’s eyes crinkled, a rare smile pulling at his lips.

Pietro didn’t speak a lot about what happened inside The Hex. Neither of them did, the subject still too sore despite having happened three years ago. 

“I know it’s way off base, but,” Pietro hesitated, palms rubbing against the fabric of his pants up and down. “Somewhere, in the back of my head, there’s this annoying pull that has me believing those kids are still alive. Still out there.”

“Pietro, you know that-”

“I know, I know!” he rose from his spot and started to pace around the room. “But something is telling me that they’re still alive, and I can’t help it! I mean, c’mon, Wanda’s powers are just-”

He groaned, slamming his hands on the desk and rattling the LEGO pieces and figurines, some of them falling on the carpet. Pietro closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, head hanging low.

“Maybe I’m just reaching out too much.” He uttered.

His father stayed quiet for a moment before standing up and reaching for his shoulder. Slowly turning him so they could see face to face.

Erik’s chest churned deep inside as he noticed the redness on the corners of Pietro’s eyes. His thumb gently rubbed the tender skin, gaining a murmur of complaint from his son.

“You could be right,” Pietro’s eyes perked up. “Wanda’s powers are beyond our comprehension, and there’s a chance the twins could have survived. They’re hers after all.”

Pietro took a deep breath. “So you believe me?”

“Of course I do,” Erik sighed. “But there’s also the chance that we could be wrong, and I don’t want you to jump to conclusions without taking this carefully and slowly.”

The younger man gave him a deadpan stare, clearly letting him know that does last words were somewhat ironic and a bit too much to ask of him.

But his dad was right, they needed to know more information. And thread with it carefully.

“Where exactly is this girl?” the older man asked. “Is she at the institute? Perhaps we can ask Charles for some insight.”

Pietro shook his head. “No, she isn’t there. Logan is still waiting to finish the mission, then he’ll move the kids to the institute.”

Erik frowned at that, his hands gently squeezing Pietro’s shoulders. “And where are they?”

With a roll of his eyes and a scowl, Pietro spat out the name of the city.

“Gotham."

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Damian didn’t remember when it was the last time he walked through this specific hallway.

Back in the early days when he moved into the manor, he had taken it upon himself to explore the grounds. Get familiar with the new environment, or something like that. Probably his training pushing him to just know all the exits and entrances around the big building.

But this hallway, he avoided it as if it were the plague.

Especially after he found out who exactly resided in one of the farther rooms.

At some point, he stopped actively avoiding it and just forgot about it. There was nothing in there that could need his attention or concern him.

Out of sight, out of mind, right?

He would probably choke the air out of his past self for thinking like that. For not being more willing to look past the whole ‘firstborn’ jealousy that burned through his blood when he met his sister.

Damian’s mind was a mess. Too many questions. Too much anger. Too much guilt. 

The guilt had caught him off guard. 

One of the things that stood out about Damian was that he was prideful. He held honor and pride above anything else. He was proud of being the son of the bat. It was his greatest honor and goal to take on the mantle once his father retired. He never apologized for being blunt. Never regretted it or felt guilty about it .

But as he stood before the door of her bedroom, all he could recognize was that bothersome feeling panging against his chest.

Finding out about her relation to Harvey Dent had put many things into perspective.

Did she actively hide it from everyone? How did he never notice? Was she also ashamed of being related to a villain? Why did she never say anything about it? Why didn’t she come to him? 

It would have been logical. He also had a direct relation to a villain: his grandfather and his mother. And while he no longer related to their views, he grew up around them. He had to leave his old home behind and embrace this new way of living. He had to adapt. He had to fit in.

And so did she.

He could only imagine what her life was like before Father took her in. A mentally unstable mother, now interned in a psychiatric ward. Apparently hostile and willing to harm her while having manic episodes. An uncle who was a crime lord, who was not able to take the hint that she was better off with her true family. Sending endless letters and writing pretty words about changing and wanting to move away from Gotham, so that she could live a normal life.

Away from the media. Away from scandals. Away from them.

Damian could understand why his father hid the letters. He was still mad that he hid them from everyone on the team, of course. Knowing about this information would have prevented a lot of things, but Damian could see why he did it.

What he couldn’t understand was why his Father hadn’t killed the bastard already.

It would have made things so much easier in his opinion.

Shaking away his thoughts to the back of his mind, Damian opened the door to the bedroom quietly. The creaking wood made him look down the hall, hoping that nobody would come sniffing around.

He didn't need anyone else giving him a reprimand about privacy.

He had his father's perspective on this mess, now he need hers.

Only the curtains fluttered by the tall glass window, despite no wind blowing since it was closed.

Thinking nothing of it, he went inside the room, closing the door behind him.

The first thing he noticed was how cold and dark the room was. There was no light entering through the window, as if a dark cloud had blocked the sun outside the moment he made his way inside. He could feel the goosebumps breaking under his school uniform. 

He could only see the outline of the furniture around the room. The bed, the bookshelf, the wardrobe, and the desk. All of them left a chilling sensation down his back.

But Damian simply walked deeper into the room, each step heavy against the hardwood floor, until he reached the bookshelf.

His gaze moved over the backs of the books, starting from the very top shelf. Most of them were different genres of literature. He noticed that a significant portion of them had Spanish titles and a consistent repetition of genre types that he could recognize from having read them in his private lessons back in the league.

He never imagined his sister was an avid reader of Magical Realism.

The room turned colder and colder with every moment he continued to stand there. He could dare to imagine that if he let out a breath, he would be able to see it, just like in the cold winter days. If it weren’t for the fact that they were just starting October, he would deem it a possibility.

Then, his eyes landed on a book right in the corner of the lower shelf, sticking out slightly from its spot. As he began to crouch down, he noticed some bookmarking post-its standing on the top of the pages. Its title was worn off by time, barely able to read what it said, until the words registered and translated in his head.

‘The House of the Spirits’ by Isabel Allende.

Before he could reach for the book, a freezing, wet hand grabbed his ankle and pulled hard. Making him stumble and hit his forehead on the edge of a shelf and fall to the ground with a surprised yell.

Damian quickly turned his body upwards, sliding back against the bookshelf as he looked around the now completely dark room.

He couldn’t see shit, but he could here something moving.

Or more like someone.

The creaks of the floor put him on the edge, way too slow and scattered all over the place for him to pinpoint where exactly they were coming from. Cold sweat goes down his temple, making his skin even colder.

Then, he gets pulled again. This time, he gets dragged through the room and underneath the bed. 

He could feel his limbs hitting some plastic and the clattering of small boxes getting spread all over the floor. His nails scratched over the wood, grunting and struggling to kick off whoever was gripping his leg.

Hands wrapping around the neck of his shirt, and lifting him until his head hit the metal frame of the bed, got his attention. And he finally came face to face with it.

Its face was scrunched up in pure fury, pale skin with prominent black veins crawling up from the neck to the jaw. Hair drenched in water that left a heavy stench, making his stomach churn. Deep red blood dripping down a side of the head and mouth in a snarl that showed all of its teeth, deep gutural sounds coming from its throat.

“Mind your business, you brat.” Its voice clawing at his ears like sharp, shattered glass, making him shrivel in his skin.

Without thinking twice, Damian grabbed the nearest object at hand and hit the being on the side of the head with it.

It let out a distorted scream, throwing him far away and sliding his body once again across the floor. He quickly got up, eyes wide as stuff around the room began to rattle and fall to the ground, and covering his ears as the screams grew into a higher tone. 

As soon as he saw its hands claw at the ground, its body sliding out from beneath the bed, Damian ran out of the room. Almost taking down the door with him as he took off through the hall, slamming against corners and walls until he reached his room.

Not far away from there, Maximoff stood by the stairs, looking confused as to why she had just seen the gremlin looking so pale and scared while running through the halls. 

“Damn, what is his deal?” She muttered until the wails coming from her bedroom hallway entered her ears. Quickly, she ran to her room, cursing to herself.

Back in Damian’s room, he gripped with shaky fingers an old cassette. It was slightly busted, the tape torn and worn. And now, after hitting whatever that was with it, it looked even more broken.

With a deep sigh, he slid down against his door and passed out.

Meanwhile, Maximoff had to deal with pissed off, hurt ghost who refused to put some ice on her bruised forehead.

Neither of those three had a good night.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Warren rubbed his eyes, sighing deeply. “Never in my life did I think I would be doing some insane shit like this…” he looked to his right side, shaking his head from side to side. “I knew my life was gonna be fucked up from the moment I was born, but this takes the fucking-”

Bobby shushed him, waving his hand dismissively at him without lifting his gaze from the flashlight that was flickering slowly and writing the patterns in his notebook.

“Complain later.” He muttered, biting his lip while scribbling the translation from the Morse code in an unreadable handwriting.

The two boys had been sitting on the benches of the track field for quite a while now. Bobby was even wearing his baseball uniform, having come up to meet with his friends as soon as his practice was finished. The same with Warren, who had finished his debate practice early.

Usually, they wouldn’t be in such a hurry to meet up. But today was a little different compared to the other days.

After all, it wasn’t every day that you got the chance to meet a real ghost.

“She looks beyond pissed today…” Warren muttered, his gaze returning to the running track.

Maximoff was wearing headphones today, some old thing that was already falling apart, and had the leather cuffs flaking off. But she didn’t give it a single thought.

Her eyebrows had a prominent frown that could be seen from the distant spot where the guys were sitting. Hair pulled back in a tight ponytail that wasn’t budging, no matter how hard the tail was wiped around with wind as she ran with a scowl.

She had that expression the whole day.

And that’s without mentioning her snappish attitude. Even Mr. Logan seemed to take his distance from her, just handing her the keys to the field lock and letting her be by herself for today.

Wayne made the flashlight roll off the bench, making Bobby chuckle and put down his pencil.

“Who wouldn’t be? I don’t have siblings, but I would be ticked off if my little brother messed around in my room without permission.”

Warren gave him a quick look, grumbling between his teeth. “Not her brother, remember?”

“True,” Bobby sighed, his hand brushing his hair back and looking around him. “But still, bet you were also pissed?”

The flashlight spun on the ground and pointed directly at Bobby, making him groan when the light hit right in his eyes. Which made Warren laugh, along with an odd sound similar to a sharp whistle, letting them know that Wayne was also laughing at him.

Wayne had also fitted right in with them.

After what happened last night with Damian, Maximoff decided that Wayne needed to get out of the manor for the day. It didn’t take a lot of convincing from her part, since both of them, no matter how annoyed, didn’t want to actually kill the family from a heart attack.

It’s supposed to just make them suffer, nothing else. No need for murder.

No matter how tempting it seemed.

That’s how Wayne was officially introduced to the boys. Well, to Bobby at least.

Warren and her weren’t exactly close back when she was alive. They just found a middle ground where they could benefit from each other. Despite it being a bit embarrassing for both sides, since the two of them made that deal out of searching for approval from their families.

Two fucked up rich kids, with even more fucked up family dynamics, finding a bit of comfort with each other. Sounds about right.

Neither of them talked about what happened behind the walls of their manors. Didn’t need to. The comfortable silence between them on their daily rehearsals was enough, and that was it.

No matter the sinking hole in Warren’s stomach that had been bothering him since that day they went to the mall.

He couldn’t help but wonder if he could have done something to prevent her death. Maybe if he hadn’t canceled the rehearsal that day, she wouldn’t have been killed. Maybe if he hadn’t canceled their meeting just because his father was actually at home for once and reached out to have some dinner with him, she wouldn’t have suffered that fate. 

He could have given her a ride home. Or maybe even walk her back. Anything to stop the tragedy from happening. 

But that would have meant not having Maximoff with them.

And he liked Maximoff. Probably the first friend, along with Bobby, whom he had ever had that didn’t approach him for need of favors or fame. Just genuine friendship.

But what Warren had with her? With Wayne? It was something different.

Something he never dared to put a name on, and never will get the chance to do so.

Warren got startled out of his thoughts when he felt a cold sensation against his fingers, making him look down at his hand. 

A pale, delicate hand brushed its pinky with his fingertips, but it was gone in the blink of an eye. He let himself smile for a moment, a warm light feeling against his shoulder when he drifted his gaze towards the jogging girl who started to approach them.

“Did you guys find anything?” She asked, pulling off the headphones and picking up the flashlight.

“Well, we got plenty of info on the meanings behind the cards,” Bobby said, flipping through the pages of his notebook. “But, it’s pretty confusing if we don’t know about the context behind the reading.”

Maximoff sat on the grass with a sigh. “It’s a start, though, right?”

“.-- . / -. . . -.. / ... --- -- . --- -. . / .-- .... --- / -.- -. --- .-- ... / .... --- .-- / -- --- -- .----. ... / ...- .. ... .. --- -. ... / .-- --- .-. -.- . -..”

We need someone who knows how Mom's visions worked

The speedster bit on the nail of her thumb, thinking to herself about who could probably be helpful.

Alfred was out of the question. He didn’t know Bianca enough to be considered an option.

Bruce? Hard no.

Rio? Yeah, not unless they wanted to get tangled even more in her little game.

“There’s just one person left…” She muttered, looking up at the guys and giving Wayne a lifted eyebrow from her place beside Warren.

“I don’t like that look,” Warren said, seeing right through her apologetic expression.

“.... . / -.-. --- ..- .-.. -.. / .... . .-.. .--.”

He could help.

“Yeah, I don’t like that either,” Bobby muttered, eyes staring wide at the flashlight.

Maximoff sighed, patting her legs as she got up from the grass and took a deep breath. “Look, you guys can take a step back this time. It could get messy, and I don’t want to get both of you into trouble.”

“Well, too bad for you,” Warren stated, getting up from his seat. “Because there’s no way I’m letting you get into trouble by yourself. We still got a deal, remember?”

“And,” Bobby added, also getting up. “I’m also way too invested in this. Like, really invested.”

She rolled her eyes and laughed, crossing her arms and nodding at them. “Alright, fine. What do we have this Friday?”

“It’s the recital,” Warren said, frowning. “You know? Part of the deal?”

“Well, the deal is changing now.” She chirped, tilting her head with a grin as Wayne gave a shrill laugh and made the light posts around the field flicker. The boy exchanged worried looks.

“I’m starting to regret agreeing to this…”

Warren sighed deeply. “So what now?”

Maximoff hummed, “Do any of you know how we can sneak into Arkham Asylum?”

Bobby and Warren tried not to scream when they finally saw Wayne, who squealed while floating around them in circles.

Maybe they should have sat this one out.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

“Cass, I’m just worried. This is very confusing.”

Cassandra shook her head, hugging her legs to her chest while sitting on the sofa of Barbara’s living room.

She had come to the redhead’s apartment late in the night, looking over her shoulder every single time the tiniest noise was heard behind her. Frown deep between her eyebrows, and lips cracked by continuously biting on them with worry, on the whole way to Barbara’s home.

“Think about it.” The younger woman said. “You have noticed, too.”

“Of course I have noticed,” she acknowledged, moving her chair closer to the Cass. “But it’s probably just her being angry and hurt. She needs space.”

That got a sharp glare from Cassandra, taking Barbara off guard by how intensely the anger in her eyes was directed towards her. As if what she said was the greatest insult she had ever dared to say out loud.

It made her straighten up and clear her throat.

“What I mean is,” she started in a gentler tone. “She is a teen, and she is going through some harsh stuff. She needs time and understanding, not accusations of having an alter.”

Yeah, that was it.

After days of observing and analyzing the behavior of her sister, Cassandra came to this conclusion. Which was solidified when it was revealed that not only was the young girl related to a villain, but to Two-Face of all people.

 It made complete sense to her. 

The way of talking. Her manners. Her posture. The hostile attitude. The new clothes. The new everything.

Her dear sister had an alter, and it was all their fault.

She had done her research on the condition, the dissociative identity disorder, even going so far as to take Harvey’s file and compare any similarities between the two of them. It didn’t take long to figure out several common grounds amongst them.

Traumatic childhood? Check

Harsh upbringing? Check

Unstable relationship with family members? …sadly, also a check.

And the nail in the coffin. A traumatic event that could have started a new way of behavior or personality.

It was undeniable to her. There was no other explanation.

And it hurt. It hurt to know that she had a hand in this. That everyone had a hand in this. They all contributed. They all caused her harm. They all caused her pain. They all caused her suffering, and she didn’t know how to fix it. If there even was a way of fixing it. A way to atone for her mistakes and errors.

Was there a way to earn her forgiveness? 

… Of course, there was. Her sister was a saint. Her main alter, at least. She was good, forgiving, and understanding. She would see right through her and understand that she regrets pushing her to the side for just a moment of silence. That Cass would never ask her to be quiet once again. That she needs her to be loud and please talk to her once MORE-

…Back on track.

This new side was just a protective alter. A way made by her mind to protect her fragile side and punish those who have wronged her.

All that Cassandra needed to do was show that she had changed, and everything would be fine. Everything would be way better than before, even!

But first, she needs the others to believe her. That there’s proof.

Which is why she went to Barbara, who is the only person she thought would be able to understand what she meant.

Sadly, Barbara was not getting it.

“Look,” Barbara sighed, touching Cass’s knee. “It’s been a rough week. For everyone. How about you stay the night here, and tomorrow we can talk about it more calmly. I can see that you haven’t been sleeping well.”

Of course, she was not sleeping well! Her sister was suffering in silence, and she didn’t know what to do about it!

Cassandra stood up from the sofa, harshly shoving Barbara’s hand away and picking up her stuff, slamming the door of the apartment behind her as she stormed off into the street. Leaving a very confused and concerned Barbara behind.

If Barb was not going to understand, then fine.

She was going to find someone who could.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

“Did you brush your teeth?” Logan questioned with a raised eyebrow, staring down at the small screen of his phone. Where a little girl pouted back at him with a glare uncannily similar to his own.

“Hnn,” She muttered, nodding at him. He could also hear Hank’s deep chuckle somewhere in the background of the call.

Then, a black woman with striking white hair appeared behind the girl with a warm smile. Her hands gently, going over the girl’s shoulders and letting her snuggle up to her chest, all while still pouting at Logan.

“Laura is a big girl now, Logan,” Ororo said, making the girl hide her face away from the now smirking man. “She even helped out with the dishes today!”

“Did she now?” He said with a teasing tone. “Hopefully I’ll be able to see that when I get back.”

Laura then growled at the screen, nose scrunched up and glaring at her father. But to Logan, she just looked like an angry wet cat.

Just like a certain student today.

“Say goodnight, Laura. It’s quite late for your bedtime.” Ororo said, which Laura responded with a mumbled ‘night’ before she passed the phone to Hank, who also said his goodnights and waited until the two of them left to finally talk to Logan.

“How did the shoes work out? Any feedback?”

Logan groaned leaning back against the headboard of his bed. The professor had gone as far as to get him an apartment for his cover instead of sticking to a hotel and he was beyond grateful for it. Though, he currently preferred to wake up with Laura’s foot shoved against his face after she crawled up into his bed in the middle of the night.

He missed his kid. A lot.

“No complaints. The kid doesn’t look like she is afraid of melting soles anymore, so I guess that’s good enough.” He mentioned.

“I’ll take it, then.” Hank grinned, shuffling some stuff off camera. “How about the case? Any clues?”

“Not yet,” He muttered. “But I have the feeling that I’ll find something very soon. Especially with those three going rampant around the city.”

“Ah, yes,” Hank nodded. “The professor mentioned them yesterday during our meeting. I’m quite worried that such powerful mutants are going out all alone in Gotham of all places. The universe does have a strange sense of humor.”

More like a fucked up sense of humor.

“I’m guessing we will have to open four new rooms in the institute.”

Logan frowned at those words. He was watching three kids. Not four.

“Four?”

Hank looked at the camera and then let out a tiny gasp, quickly smiling while nodding. “Oh, I guess the professor hasn’t mentioned it yet. He detected a new mutant in New Jersey. A boy from Eastview.”

A boy from Eastview, huh?

“Did he sent Scott to pick him up?” Logan scoffed. He knew Scott wasn’t the best at handling breaking the news to families about their kid being a mutant.

“No, he didn’t”

“Huh, that’s good.”

“He did send Gambit and Rouge, though.”

“He sent who?!”

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Author's note: Hello everyone, I have big news! I'll be taking a short writing break until the first week of July. My family will be traveling and I'll be facing finals from my summer class (And also working on a short film AS THE MAIN CHARACTER OMGGGGGG-). But, the asks will remain open and I'll answer as soon as possible, so don't hesitate to send asks or comments! Other than that, I hope you all enjoyed the new chapter and I can't wait to see what everyone thinks about it (YAYY, PIETRO IS HEREEEE-) Lots of love, GG✨

Tag List:

@bat1212 @kneelforloki @1abi @galaxypurplerose @yhin-gg @cxcilla @momentomoribitch @stargirl404 @welpthisisboring @icefox8155 @bunniotomia @alittlelostmoonchild @devotedlyshamelessdetective @shycreatorreview @nirvanaxx1942 @soulsire @ryuushou @rinkydinkythinky @lithiumval @ithoughtthinks @reeyy0-2 @cssammyyarts @lordbugs @ilovecoffe0 @kore-of-the-underworld @fortunatelydifferentqueen @vanessa-boo @livingund3ad @aelxr @im-so-goddamn-tired @lovebug-apple @staarflowerr @xoxoyukixoxo @whyiseveryuseenametaken @holderoflostmemories @doggyteam2028 @leeiasure @shadowypeachsweets @jjoppees @astraeasworld @wrenbirde @scarletdfox @letsbedragonstogether @exactlynumberonekryptonite @randomlyappearingartist @angwlart @ceramic-raven @vndexd @suneaterscape @initial-ari

Bonus Memes:

[bbokicidal]

Kinktober 2024 : Schedule

Because of me being quite busy during the month of October, I'll be posting twice a week every week for Kinktober!

There will be 10 posts in total : 1 for each individual member of SKZ (8 total), 1 for the duo of choice, and 1 for all eight members.

Notice: Kinktober 2024 has been discontinued as of 08/22/2024

October 2nd : "Try Harder." - Biting/Scratching - Bangchan When one of your close friends sets you up with his 'best friend' at a Halloween party he's throwing, who turns out to be the man you've been eyeing up at work for the last eight months, the two of you decide to ditch the alcohol and candy for something far sweeter.

Contains : Biting/Scratching, drinking, pining for Chris, rough sex, don't hold back enjoy the ride-

October 4th : "Is That All?" - Wet Dreams / Somnophilia - Lee Know Finding you after a Halloween party asleep in HIS room, Minho decides he doesn't want to bother waking you up and just slides into bed beside you to rest. That was his intention, at least.

Contains : Wet dreams/Somnophilia (sex while asleep), dabbles in dub-con, touching, slow sex (at first), Minho being cautious not to wake you up but failing, dry humping/grinding, clothed sex.

October 9th : "Look At You." - Body Worship / Virginity - Changbin You'd picked out a more risqué costume this year for the party than you had the last, deciding to finally break out of your shell and maybe get a little more than some looks tonight. Though you hadn't expected to find that your best friend - and longtime crush - had also picked something a little more revealing this year as well...

Contains : Virgin!Changbin, body worship, revealing outfits, experienced!reader, shy Binnie, soft sex (at first).

October 11th : "Smile For Me." - Size Difference - Hyunjin There were plenty of cute guys at the party, but one of them had caught your eye. A bit taller than the rest, long hair peeking out from the hooded mask - Maybe it was just your love for masked men, but that was certainly the sexiest Ghostface you'd ever seen.

Contains : Short-ish!Reader, Ghostface!Hyunjin, Mask kink (obviously oops), Hyunjin w/ his big 'ol hands, choking, grabbing/pushing, manhandling, rough sex.

October 16th : "So Bitter, So Sweet." - Hate Fucking - Han Jisung was usually so kind, so polite, so sweet. But you'd irked him multiple times around campus and he gave you bad vibes, which you'd spat in his face before. So he decides that at the Halloween party, he'll show you just how mean he can be.

Contains : MeanDom!Jisung, Switch!Reader, Fighting for dominance, biting/scratching, yelling, face/pussy/ass slapping/spanking, name calling, Jisung being a brat.

October 18th : "Maybe Our Last." - Tentacles - Felix Felix had dabbled in Hentai before - watched some of the more... unique stuff just to see what it was all about. And liked it. Not that he would ever admit it - So he's already flustered when you show up to the party dressed as a hot anime girl he's seen before; But the night takes a turn when an outbreak happens and it's something he could never be prepared for.

Contains : This is some fucked up world bending shit - Dabbles in dub-con!!!, Tentacle monster(s), mutation outbreak, one of the other members mutates and becomes a sick creature, no direct sex between Felix and the reader - just them both getting smothered in slick and touched/penetrated/etc. I've never written anything this wild.

DISCONTINUED

October 23rd : "Enough of That." - Bound/Tied - Seungmin He'd brought up the idea of you being his 'bunny' and him being the 'magician' for your costume multiple times. What he hadn't mentioned was the way he would tie your arms behind your back and have you sit in his lap the entire night. But he needed to keep his bunny attached to him somehow, right? His costume was incomplete without you.

Contains : Protective!Seungmin, MeanDom!Seungmin, BestFriend!Seungmin, BunnyCostume!Reader, Shibari, manhandling, rough?sex.

DISCONTINUED

October 25th : "Run And Hide." - Predator/Prey - I.N Jeongin wasn't opposed to taking what he wanted, when he wanted it. He was the youngest of his friend group - He always got what he wanted. And that included you. (Even if you were his Hyung's newly fresh ex.)

Contains : Still up for debate - Dabbles in dub-con, Greedy/Selfish!Jeongin, MeanDom!Jeongin, rough sex.

DISCONTINUED

October 29th : "Try Something New." - Aphrodisiacs - Seungmin / Lee Know After drunkenly admitting a week prior that you'd had a fantasy once including a certain pill/powder that would heighten your senses and wants, Seungmin takes it upon himself to confront you directly and ask if you wanted it to become real. During the party the following night, he slips a powder into your cocktail while whispering sweet nothings in your ear; And Minho stood close by to monitor the situation. He was just watching - at first.

Contains : For more context the reader mentions having a fantasy about taking an aphrodisiac and Seungmin asks if he can make it come true, so he plans with Minho to slip something in her drink. She DOES know about it. Dom!Seungmin, Dom!Minho, Exhibitionism/Voyeurism,

DISCONTINUED

October 31st : "You are Mine." - Incubi - OT8 Chris had invited you to the Halloween party with sparkling eyes and a shy smile, telling you how it would be loads of fun and there would be drinks, food, and pretty people. But when you walked in the night of the party, his gaze was far different than it had been the moment you previously talked. And seven of his friends - all gorgeous and in daringly-revealing costumes - seemed to eye you up the exact same way.

Contains : Gangbang (obviously), OT8 x Reader, Dom!OT8, Monsterfucking, Incubus!OT8, Chris deceiving the reader, MeanDom!Vocalracha, MeanDom!Lee Know, MeanDom!Hyunjin, Protective!Bangchan, Possessive!Changbin, Protective!Felix, Spanking, Grinding, Slapping, Dry Humping, Double Penetration, Spitroasting, Multiple orgasms, Edging, Rough sex.

DISCONTINUED

Dividers are made by : @anitalenia & @frenchkisstheabyss

[3rdgymbros]

━ 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐈, 𝐔𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬.

— pairing; itoshi sae x reader  

— summary; in which you and sae meet again in japan after a messy breakup in spain. set in the blue lock manager au.

— notes; please donate to my kofi if you like my work. and know that i am mentally smooching everyone who reblogs my stuff.

❋ It’s not really something you like to broadcast, how you and Sae were close when you were in Spain with your parents for that brief, wonderful period of time. While he honed his skills with football, you would balance your studies while helping out at Re Al.

❋ Things had been so simple back then. Late-night walks in Madrid, your fingers intertwined with his. Sneaking kisses in quiet corners, away from prying eyes. Sharing popsicles and everything else. Sae was cold to the rest of the world, his softness reserved entirely for you.

❋ You were each other’s first everything — first kiss, first love, first heartbreak.

❋ Some part of you had to have known that this was only temporary, considering how often your parents travel for work. But it still comes as a shock to you when you parents abruptly decide to return to Japan to help fund the Blue Lock project.

❋ And Sae, so full of potential. Sae, whose career is finally taking off. You aren’t about to let him leave it behind; and Sae, too driven, too focused on his dreams, wasn’t about to throw it all away and return to Japan either. Not like this. Not for you.

❋ You hadn’t expected to see him at the airport to see you off. Sae’s expression was closed off, and it was like the two of you were strangers once again, the distance and silence already stretching endlessly between you. As if your relationship had never existed in the first place.

❋ The breakup was messy, yet silent. Both of you knew instinctively that this was the end. And just before Sae left without looking back, his final words to you were, “If you’re going, don’t expect me to wait.”

❋ The last image you have of him is his retreating figure, back rigid, leaving as the words die on your lips.

❋ And that was that.

❋ You’d returned to Japan with your parents to work as a manager at Blue Lock (Ego had agreed to take you in under the promise of free labour, apparently). Ego’s lectures aren’t fun, but you’re actually learning something under him and Anri when you’re not being driven insane by a group of rowdy, immature teenaged boys.

❋ You try really hard not to think about Sae. Even if the occasional headline reminds you of his burgeoning career in Europe. But the memory of him is a quiet ache in your chest that surfaces in random moments — when you see the colour teal, or hear a song he’d used to like.

❋ You’ve been to JFA headquarters only once or twice before, but it’s bustling with activity as always. Your purpose here is purely business; you’ll act as a secretary for Ego and Anri while they finalize plans for the U20 match with the top brass.

❋ You didn’t think that he’d be there.

❋ Right at that very moment.

❋ In that very room.

❋ Fate is cruel, sometimes.

❋ He looks . . . The same, yet somehow different all at once. His hair’s a little longer, his expression sharper, but those piercing green eyes haven’t changed at all, and the realisation makes your chest throb painfully all over again.

❋ You wonder how you appear to him, underneath your professional blazer and veneer of carefully controlled calm. Does he think you still look the same? Or does he think that you’ve changed, become a total stranger to him, much like how he is to you right now?

❋ His gaze is intense, scorching. You can feel it the second you enter the room, but you keep your head down and try to pay attention to the meeting. (The thought of having to present incomplete notes to Ego certainly does a marvellous job at helping you focus.)

❋ A breath of relief soughs out of you the moment the meeting ends. Quickly, you gather your things, following Ego and Anri out the door. You’re eager to avoid the lingering eyes of the association’s board members.

❋ And perhaps most of all: you’re eager to avoid unnecessary small talk with Sae.

❋ But you catch a final glimpse of him out the corner of your eye; Sae, still staring at you. His expression seemingly softer, almost hesitant. It’s almost as if he wants to call your name, to stop you from leaving, but something — Pride? Anger? — holds him back.

❋ The door to the meeting room clicks shut behind you with a cold finality, and this time, you’re the one leaving first.

[crldnvrs97]

ive seen some people say that ned did not love cat as much, and saw her as a duty

Hi anon! Short answer, Ned loved Catelyn.

Sure, they did see each other as duties at first, given that they were arranged to marry each other, but they grew into something real. And not just fondness or mutual respect, I'm talking about actual, deep emotional intimacy. Ned is not one to wear his heart on his sleeve, but his love for Catelyn is all over the text.

So I am going to breakdown quote after quote from Ned's POV to show you the long answer:

This is tenderness. This is emotional intimacy. Ned doesn’t just acknowledge her pain, he tries to soothe it before it even manifests physically. The kiss isn’t romantic in a flashy way, it’s quiet, instinctive comfort. This is a man who knows his wife’s pain and wants to ease it. The “thank you” is heartfelt, not perfunctory. He’s grateful to her, not because of duty, but because he respects her emotional strength and feels the depth of her pain. This isn’t a man tolerating a wife out of obligation, this is a man grieving with her, comforting her, loving her.

He says “my lady,” but not coldly... not like a title. He says it “in wonderment.” He is in awe of her. This is a reunion soaked in emotion. And notice: his first reaction isn’t assertive. It’s quiet, shocked affection. “Wonderment” implies that her love, her presence, is something that still moves him. And when he sees the raw red scars on her hands, he’s not stoic, he’s shaken, concerned, fumbling for words. This is not duty. This is love as emotional vulnerability.

This moment is rich with mutual love and fear. Catelyn clings to him, and Ned responds not with distance, but with a kiss. That kiss is not passion for passion’s sake. It’s reassurance, a reply to her desperation. This is love in its raw, weathered form, not youthful infatuation, but deeper, earned, and reciprocated. Ned doesn't flinch from her scars, he moves toward her. The moment doesn’t belong to obligation, it belongs to emotional safety and trust.

(This is from Catelyn's POV but it says a lot about Ned's actions towards his devotion and love for her so I felt the need to include it)

Now this moment right here isn’t just about sex between a lord and a lady trying to conceive more heirs. The repetition, a thousand times before, suggests consistency, comfort, and a shared life. He hates the warmth of her room, yet he still goes there. Why? Because being with her matters more than his discomfort. That's not the behavior of a man going through the motions. That’s choice. That’s habitual, lived-in love. They’ve built a life together, and even the most mundane details, sharing a bed, tolerating the heat, reveal that.

This is hope. Shared future. In the middle of the chaos in King’s Landing, surrounded by treachery and weighty responsibility, his thoughts go to creating a child with Catelyn. He doesn’t just dream of children, he dreams of children with her. It's romantic in the most domestic and sincere way. And it speaks volumes about where his heart is even when he’s physically far from her.

This line hits like a hammer because he belongs with her. That’s not obligation. That’s identity. She is not an external figure in his life. She is part of what makes him him. In his mind, Winterfell isn’t complete without Catelyn. This is how he defines home. He is incomplete without her.

The rage here is protective fury. It's not just about Littlefinger’s smugness, it’s about the implication that Catelyn could be disrespected. That her honor could be stained. Ned knows how much it means to her, and he will not tolerate anyone dragging it through the mud. He doesn’t hesitate—he reacts instantly, viscerally, with defensive love. This isn’t cool indifference. It’s ferocity born from devotion.

He speaks of longing for her. This is a man drowning in stress, isolation, and deception, and what does he want? Not power, not peace, not freedom. He wants Catelyn, in the most intimate and simple sense: to hold her. To sleep next to her. He calls her "his lady" not in formality, but in affection. And because it is the truth: she is his lady. That’s where his comfort lives: in her arms.

And of course, I would not forget of this devastating line. His thoughts of her aren’t a passing note. They’re aching. And look: he calls her Cat. That’s not just a nickname, it’s a marker of intimacy. This is what makes it so painful. He misses her so badly that it hurts. The fear that he’ll never see her again gnaws at him. This isn’t a man bound by obligation. This is a man tormented by the absence of his beloved.

These quotes are not neutral. They’re overflowing with emotional complexity, intimacy, and clear, enduring love. The narrative doesn’t present Ned and Catelyn as a mismatch, it presents them as a couple that grew into a deep, stable, emotionally rich, and earned love.

Now I don’t know exactly what magic I did here. I just pulled lines straight from the books and explained them. That’s it. So to the people who still think Ned didn’t love Catelyn? Maybe try actually reading the books.

[mercifulstate]

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ MANIFESTATION METHODS SERIES 𝜗𝜚 PART 2: LAW OF ASSUMPTION.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Let’s make it painfully clear for the girls, the guys, the gays, and the theys in the back. The Law of Assumption is not some wishy-washy “if the universe likes you enough” type of thing. It’s a law. Like gravity. Like the sky being blue. It doesn’t care how good you’ve been or how many crystals you charged under the full moon.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎It just says this: whatever you assume to be true, becomes true for you.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎That’s it. That’s the whole game. You assume you’re lucky? You start noticing all the ways life bends for you. You assume you’re always broke? Then somehow, every time you touch your wallet, it coughs and dies. You assume nobody likes you? Then boom—your social life turns into a sad indie film with a depressing soundtrack.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎You’re always manifesting. Always. Not just when you’re repeating affirmations in your room like a spellcaster. Every second. Every assumption that you believe and persist in. It all counts.

“But Mercy! I’ve tried every technique related to the LOA and still haven’t manifested!”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎And every time I hear that, I wanna knock gently on your forehead like—hello? You literally just said it yourself: you assumed you haven’t manifested. That’s what the Law picked up on. That’s what’s being projected into your 3D reality. And don’t get it twisted—techniques aren’t bad. Use the ones you love. But you don’t need them. You only need the assumption. The belief. The knowing. That’s the real work.

“But Mercy! I’m having doubts!”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎And? You’re a person, not a glitchless NPC. Doubt happens. Feel it. Notice it. But don’t marry it. Doubting for five minutes won���t kill your manifestation. Persisting in the assumption that your doubts affect it? Persisting in the assumption that you failed? Yeah.

“But Mercy! Isn’t this sinful? I’m religious!”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Babes. Please. This is not some spiritual cult or divine betrayal. This is a law. Just like ads subliminally program you to believe you need the newest skincare product or that your life is incomplete without a car you don't even want—that is the Law of Assumption in action. Society has been using it on you since birth. You’ve been conditioned to believe all kinds of crap and guess what? You’ve been manifesting that crap effortlessly.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Now it’s your turn to use the same law, but for yourself. Not for some brand. Not for someone else’s dream. Yours.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎So stop acting like the Law doesn’t work just because you haven’t seen your results yet. The only reason it hasn’t “shown up” is because you keep telling the story that it hasn’t. That’s your dominant assumption. That’s what’s reflecting.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎You want change? Change the assumption. Change the story. And let the 3D catch up. Because it will. It always does.

[tinytinyblogs]

Take Me Back

After the breakup, all they can think about is you.

Hyung line, Maknae line

Stray Kids Masterlist 1.0 & 2.0

Your insights and reactions make these posts come alive. Love reblogs, comments, and all the good vibes welcome ✨

Chan

Chan had been isolating himself since the breakup, retreating into his studio and shutting out the world. At first, he thought it was what he needed—to be alone and process everything. But as the days blurred together, he wasn’t sure anymore. Was he giving himself space to heal, or was he just drowning in his own sadness? The once-productive sanctuary of his studio became a place of frustration. The half-finished song on his computer screen mocked him, the melody incomplete, the lyrics refusing to flow. He couldn’t think straight, couldn’t focus. All he could feel was the heavy ache in his chest. In that moment, he swore all he could think about was you. His mind reeled, his breath caught, and he realized he had never known just how important you were in his life until now. Sometimes, he swore he could hear your voice, faint but clear, nagging him gently like you used to whenever he overworked himself. The familiarity of it almost brought him comfort, but it was just a reminder of how much he missed you. His friends were worried.

They tried to coax him out, to remind him that he didn’t have to deal with this alone, but Chan would just shake his head and offer a weak smile. He spent his days clicking his pen absentmindedly, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent room. One evening, as the pen clicked rhythmically in his hand and he stared blankly at his computer screen, the door creaked open. He didn’t look up at first, too lost in his thoughts. But then he caught sight of you standing there in the corner of his vision. He blinked, startled, his heart skipping a beat it's a quiet exchange of gazes between you and him. "Stupid imagination," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head and turning his attention back to the screen. “Until when are you going to keep caving yourself in like this, Chan?” His head snapped up, his wide eyes locking onto yours. The sound of your voice was too clear, too real. He couldn’t believe it. “Have you eaten?” you asked softly, stepping closer to him. Before he could respond, you reached out and gently took the pen from his hand.

Chan froze his voice seems caught in his throat, perhaps because he's too surprised to see you standing there in front of him. His breath catching in his throat. For a moment, he thought he was dreaming, but when you didn’t disappear, he stood abruptly. His arms wrapped tightly around you, pulling you close. “It’s real... it’s really you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “God, I missed you so much.” His face buried itself in the curve of your neck as if he couldn’t let go. Your hand gently patted his back, and he exhaled shakily, some of the tension in his body melting away. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured. “Please don’t leave. Keep nagging me, please. I need you in my life.” You let him hold you, your presence grounding him. “I thought I’d lost you forever after that stupid argument,” Chan said, his voice muffled against your shoulder. “But now… I know I can’t lose you. Not when I need you the most.” And for the first time in weeks, his heart felt just a little lighter.

Minho

Minho was stubborn, always had been. After the messy breakup, he carried on as though everything was fine, pretending nothing had changed. To most, he seemed unaffected, moving through his days with the same routine. But underneath the facade, he felt hollow. Without you, his world felt off balance. Motivation, once his driving force, slipped through his fingers. He went through the motions, but everything felt heavier now. Minho became more irritable, snapping at small things that would’ve never bothered him before. He wasn’t the type to wear his heart on his sleeve, but even he couldn’t deny that everything felt wrong without you. Though Minho had never been one for overt displays of affection, he missed the simple things—like holding your hand, the warmth of your fingers intertwined with his. It was ironic how much he craved it now, a reminder of what he’d lost. In quiet moments alone, he’d find himself staring at his phone case, the one you’d given him. The stickers you both had printed together—the ones that matched like high school sweethearts—mocked him with memories of happier times.

He’d trace his finger over them absentmindedly, his chest tightening at how much he missed those days. One particularly rough day, overwhelmed by the mess of emotions he kept bottled up, Minho decided to go for a run. The cold air burned his lungs as he pushed himself harder, as though he could outrun the ache in his heart. But when he stopped, panting and catching his breath, he froze. He was standing in front of your apartment building. His feet seemed to have carried him there without him even realizing it. Somehow, he found himself wondering just how much he had been longing for you. Before he even realized it, his feet had carried him to your place—but even then, he couldn’t bring himself to turn back. For a moment, he debated turning back, but the pull was too strong. Before he knew it, he was stepping inside and walking toward your door. And then, as if fate had planned it, the door swung open. You were there, about to head out. Both of you froze. “How many times do I need to tell you to zip up this jacket?” Minho broke the silence, stepping closer.

Without waiting for permission, he gently pulled the zipper up, shielding you from the cold. “Winter’s coming soon.” His voice was soft but firm, and the gesture was so familiar that it made your heart ache. His hand gently cradled yours, feeling the coldness of your hand, and slowly, his warmth began to transfer to you. There was a beat of silence as he looked at you, his gaze searching yours. Finally, he spoke again. “We should... get back together.” Your breath hitched, but you didn’t respond, letting him continue. “We made that silly promise, remember? To stay together forever,” he said, his voice quieter now. A hint of tears welled up in his eyes, revealing a side of Minho you had never seen before. “I still want that. I still want you.” Minho’s hand reached up, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering for a moment. “I’m sorry... and I love you.” For the first time in weeks, Minho allowed himself to hope.

Changbin

Changbin couldn’t take it anymore. The weight of his own words—those impulsive, thoughtless words that shattered everything—had been suffocating him from the moment they left his lips. A few days had passed since the breakup, but each one dragged on endlessly, a torment he couldn’t escape. Regret gnawed at him like a relentless shadow, keeping him restless and desperate. That evening, he sat alone on the couch in his apartment—the same one you used to share. His leg bounced nervously as he buried his face in his hands, trying to untangle the chaos of his thoughts. But no matter how hard he tried, every thread led back to you. The empty space beside him, the silence that filled the room, and the constant ache in his chest all screamed one thing: he needed to fix this. He needed you back. By midnight, the longing became unbearable. Grabbing his jacket, Changbin bolted out the door, his heart hammering with every step. The cold night air stung his cheeks, but he barely noticed. His thoughts were consumed with you—your smile, your laughter, the way you looked at him as if he were your whole world. How had he let it all slip away?

When he reached your place, his hand trembled as he reached for the spare key you had once entrusted to him. The metal felt cold against his skin, a stark reminder of what he had lost. Taking a deep breath, he unlocked the door and stepped inside, his heart pounding so loudly it echoed in his ears. The sight of you stopped him in his tracks. You stood in the dimly lit kitchen, reaching for a glass of water. Your movements froze as you noticed him, your wide eyes mirroring his surprise. For a moment, neither of you spoke. Changbin’s teary eyes locked onto yours, his longing laid bare. You were the one he had missed more than words could ever express, and seeing you now, so close yet so distant, nearly broke him. “I... I’m so sorry,” he finally stammered, his voice quivering. “For the argument. For the awful things I said. I didn’t mean any of it.” He took a hesitant step closer, his eyes glistening with tears he could no longer hold back. His shoulders shook under the weight of his emotions, but he pressed on. “Please… don’t leave me.”

His voice cracked as he reached out, gently taking your hand in his. The familiar warmth of your touch sent a jolt through him, grounding him in a way nothing else could. His thumb brushed softly over your knuckles, a silent plea for forgiveness. “That day was stupid,” he admitted, his words tumbling out in a desperate rush. “Everything without you is stupid. I can’t think straight. My heart hurts so much, longing for you.” He tilted his head, his teary eyes searching yours for any sign of hope. “What should I do without you?” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Can we… can we try again? Please. Let me make it up to you. I’ll do anything—just don’t let this be the end.” For a moment, the room was filled with silence. Changbin held his breath, his heart suspended between despair and fragile hope. As his hand squeezed yours, his eyes pleaded with you. And in that stillness, he dared to believe that maybe, just maybe, you felt the same ache he did.

Hyunjin

Hyunjin sat on the edge of his bed, his phone resting in his trembling hands. The screen illuminated his face in the dimly lit room, his thumb hovering uncertainly over your contact. It had been two weeks since the breakup, and those fourteen days felt like a void swallowing him whole. He wanted to reach out, to see you, to explain everything, but his pride and fear kept him chained. The idea of showing up unannounced at your door was tempting, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead, he turned to his art, pouring his emotions onto blank pages as a silent plea to you. Every sketch he posted on social media held pieces of your story: your favorite flower, softly rendered in delicate lines; your favorite place, drawn with a wistful longing only he could convey; and little moments only you two shared, immortalized in graphite. They were messages without words, confessions without context, but still, you didn’t respond. Each day of silence cut deeper, leaving him questioning whether you even saw them or if you had chosen to ignore him altogether.

Tonight, the uncertainty became unbearable. His thumb hovered over your contact name once more, hesitating as doubts clouded his mind. What if you didn’t want to hear from him? What if he was only making things worse? But the ache in his chest pushed him forward. With a shaky breath, he finally typed out a message 'Can we talk?' He stared at the words for a long moment, his heart pounding as he debated whether to send them. When he finally hit the send button, relief and anxiety washed over him in equal measure. The message went through. You hadn’t blocked him—that alone was enough to spark a fragile hope. Emboldened, he typed again, his emotions spilling out 'About us. I want to explain myself… and I’m hoping you’ll give me a chance.' After hitting send, Hyunjin couldn’t sit still. He started pacing the room, his phone clutched tightly in his hand. Each passing second felt like an eternity, his mind racing through possibilities. Maybe you wouldn’t reply. Maybe you were done with him for good. Just as his resolve began to waver, his phone buzzed. He froze, staring at the screen as your reply appeared 'Come over.' Hyunjin didn’t waste a moment.

He grabbed his jacket and rushed out of his apartment, his heart pounding so loudly it drowned out the world around him. He ran down the street, barely remembering to slip on his shoes, his thoughts a chaotic blend of hope and fear. When he arrived at your door, he hesitated for just a moment before knocking. The door opened, and there you were. His breath hitched as your eyes met, the weight of the past two weeks settling between you. You stepped aside to let him in, and he entered slowly, his hands fidgeting at his sides as the door clicked shut. “I miss you,” he began, his voice cracking with raw emotion. His dark eyes, brimming with sincerity, searched yours. “And I’m sorry. Losing you—my anchor, my everything—was unbearable. I’ve been falling apart.” He stepped closer, his hands trembling as he clasped them together. “Can we… try again?” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I can’t let you go. You’re the one for me. Please, give me another chance.” His vulnerability lingered in the air, and for a moment, the silence felt infinite. But as you looked at him, his honesty and pain breaking through your defenses, the barriers between you began to crack.

[llamagoddessofficial]

Okay wait! We need more fae farm Sans please! that was too good! What would it look like when Sans's secret is revealed?

HFKDSJ okay, here's some more.

I really don't think he'd be too worried about it, when you discover his otherworldly nature. Because neither would you. Everyone already knows he's kind of strange, rumours of him not being 'normal' are abound. At that point, you would've already spent many moons getting to know him, being vulnerable without even realising - and you'd be living in a world where fae aren't uncommon at all. He's already proven himself a trustworthy friend. Why would you be scared of him?

... Especially since you have no reason to believe he's anything other than normal fae.

What you (a human) might forget is that the fair folk are not a homogeneous group. Some fae even other fae fear. He's one such entity.

It's difficult to tell if he's more powerful than Dream or Nightmare, considering he spends all his time... well, farming. It's also difficult to compare them because while all three are very ancient, they trace back to very different lineages. Dream and Nightmare are fae of butterflies, flowers, mushrooms, trees, seasons. Farmer is of ferns - of bogs, of gingkos, pine and moss.

Yall remember my Forest God AU? He's like if a Forest God got its act together, and just decided to settle down in a humanoid form. He's lived long enough to know what really matters... things like soft socks, a place to call home, the eyes and lips of a human you love.

He calls you "chickadee". It's his favourite bird.

People from the nearby village will giddily ask if you and Farmer are 'courting'. The delightful but mysterious bachelor finally has someone he likes? Everyone's rooting for him!

You have a very important role, on his farm. Very very important. You're his preserves tester. How is he supposed to know his jams and chutneys are any good, without someone of refined palate to assist him?

He has a really wonderful singing voice.

Old habits die hard; he still likes to trade. But the trades are silly, and often just an excuse for him to play. You want to hear him sing again? Better 'trade' by agreeing to cuddle up by the fire with him. You want another song, because the last sounded so ancient and beautiful and unlike anything you've ever heard? Try his spiced rice pudding, then he'll think about it.

His favourite food is roasted chestnuts.

His farm rests on the boundary between the fae and human worlds. You can enter from either side - and if you're not careful, leave on the wrong side. Farmer always walks you the right way, but if someone he doesn't like decides to make their leave, he might not be so attentive to where they're going.

You can stay at his farm without turning into fae. Alternatively, if you enter his property from the fae side, your transformation into fae is paused.

Wouldn't be surprised if he can reverse an incomplete transformation.

He talks fondly, but in the past tense, about a brother.

[matan4il]

Today's the day when we celebrate Jerusalem, our eternal capital, the symbol of Jewish existence no matter where around the world we may live.

Two things I'm thinking of today.

First, I once heard an Ethiopian man recount the story of his family's journey to Israel. Specifically, how hard it was, starting their way by foot across a country torn by civil war back then, with antisemitic thugs lurking about. The man's dad was apprehensive, maybe they shouldn't go on this journey? But the mom was certain. "If I am going to die, I want to die facing Jerusalem." She did pass away before getting to Israel, but thanks to her determination, her son gets to live here. I can't even think of that woman without tearing up and feeling so grateful that I'm privileged to be a part of the same people as her.

Second, this day when I was at the Jerusalem Light Festival, waiting to go into the Cave of King Tzidkiyahu (from which it is believed the stones for the Temple and the Temple Mount Walls were carved). But the amount of people inside is limited for safety reasons, so there was a line to get in. As I stood there, waiting for my turn, I looked up at the upper part of the Jerusalem mountain rock (the cave's opening is found in its base), and saw a pigeon perched inside a naturally formed cleft in the rock. And immediately the words from the Bible, from the Song of Songs, sprang into my mind: "יונתי בחגוי הסלע" (yonati be'chagvei ha'sela, "my dove is in the clefts of the rock") and it suddenly occurred to me that it's very possible the man who first wrote down this sentence, and then wrote it down for posterity, who it's believed was a Jewish king ruling from Jerusalem, was standing right where I was, or somewhere nearby, looking at a sight just like I was. And the fact that I had his words in our language to describe the same kind of natural scene in the city that's holy and historical to us both, despite thousands of years between us, it struck me that THAT is what an indigenous experience, enabled by a land back movement, is all about. That's what Zionism has gives us back. I was and forever will be so grateful for that moment.

So to Jerusalem, most beautiful of cities, the beating heart of the world to me as a Jew, may we always celebrate what you were always meant to represent - our identity, as well as the peaceful existence of all humankind (as it's believed your name comes from the Hebrew words for "city of peace," ירושלים - עיר שלום).

For this occasion, here's an incomplete list of some of my fave songs about or mentioning Jerusalem that I know.

"And if you're gonna bring salvation, and if you're gonna bring peace, then bring it today."

"Jerusalem, Jerusalem, city of my dreams..."

Jerusalem - Matisyahu ('coz apparently I'm not allowed to celebrate Jerusalem with more than 10 embedded vids, thanks Tumblr)

Sissu et Yerushalayim (Rejoice in Jerusalem)

Love you, my city. So blessed I get to live my life in you. I'm remembering that today more than ever.

[carionto]

Humans really like space wildlife

As Humanity integrates itself within the Galactic Coalition ever further, trade and travel between Sol and neighboring member systems is growing at exponential rates. In particular, their interest in the native wildlife of other planets is the most widely expanding sector for tourism and commerce.

Even though it is also the most heavily regulated and restricted one, Humans, who typically display a desire to subvert the normal procedures to expedite any process they can, for this they are surprisingly willing and eager to fill in all the necessary paperwork and spend hours upon days making sure they follow and adhere to all the requirements to import some of these creatures.

While such level of determination is not uncommon for new member species who discover a certain non-native creature or something that to the respective natives is commonplace but for them is the pinnacle of exotic, the variety of requests made by Humans is nearly as great as the entire list of known fauna species. And the reasons listed on the forms are even more diverse:

"That's a unicorn! I've always dreamed of having a unicorn and you're telling me there's a dozen subspecies?! Yes, please!!!"

"After reviewing their behavior, this bear-sized fluff-ball is the perfect cat I've always wanted, but couldn't because of allergies. I'll treat them with love and care, my life is incomplete without this fella."

"Tiny. Elephant-duck. Want."

"Our company was looking for a mascot, and these six-legged spindly beaver-crabs are perfect. Here's our mission statement and prepared accommodations for a flock."

"They all said I hallucinated the lizard sasquatch when I was on that acid trip, but now I'll show 'em. It's real. I knew it all along!"

"Aww, these baby puppies are so adorable (referring to the four meter, 800kg Fanged Widowmaker of Abyss Valley predator). My kids were looking through your alien picture books and instantly fell in love with these ones."

And so on. At first we had to reject quite a few, mainly because half of them were deadly beasts from Deathworlds that are almost impossible to capture in the first place. Then the Human officials informed us that, while they will try to stop it from happening, if we don't make importing and adopting even the most dangerous animals in the known Galaxy reasonably possible for them with Human help and expertise in the field, some Humans will set up illegal smuggling rings to "fill the market gap" as they said. Historically, they explained, that causes more problems and expenses than just handling it through official channels.

Reluctantly we were persuaded and have set up a new organization to quell this, apparently, unquenchable Human pack bonding condition. Even if said pet can kill them. We think, as horrible as it may be, that for some that is part of the appeal. Even the ones that breathe out literal poison.

"We'll wear a mask around them. This wendigo-like one is too cute to not get belly rubs."

Said the OFFICIAL Human Representative of a monstrosity that can only be described as the living incarnation of countless teeth, fangs, claws, vivid seizure inducing iridescent feathers, and a body that extends from a inconspicuous ambush pose to a fully 8 meter tall six limbed nightmare machine of Death!

[almostfoxglove]

Hi lovely! I love your writing, I’ve made my way through your entire catalog at this point lmao. Do you have any Javier Peña series recs? I can’t find any that are completed that I haven’t read yet.

Okay thanks and bye ❤️

hi sweetheart!! oh my goodness you are so sweet and I'm so happy you've enjoyed my fics!! thank you for readingg ahhh :,,) javi fics you say?? I'VE GOT YA PAL <3 a few are marked incomplete on ao3 but even if the authors never update again, I feel 100% satisfied with where things were left (and tbh believed them all to be complete until I went back to grab the links for them) :-)

siempre by @kiwisbell on ao3

better love by alliterative_albatross on ao3

bite me nicely and late night texts by jolapeno on ao3

neighbors by @gothcsz

go ahead, I dare ya by @chronically-ghosted on ao3

& a couple from my tbr that I'm willing to bet are fabulous:

the morning commute by @iknowisoundcrazy on ao3 (tumblr link)

just dumb enough to try by glitter_deity on ao3

& if you're open to one shots, here are some I love:

dream of me and without a reward by @pedgito

lap dance by @thatcorporategirlie

you call and I come running by @chronically-ghosted

a litany of lethe by @kiwisbell

dusk by @the-orange-tabby-cat

una noche en medellín by @luxurychristmaspudding

go your own way by @schnarfer

it's been a minute since I've sunk my teeth into a javi series, so thank you for the inspiration :,) if I come across any new ones that I love, I promise I'll come back to reblog this & let you know!! (also, if anyone who sees this has any recommendations for completed series, pls pls pls chime in)

thank you again for reading my fics & popping by to say hi & be so nice <3 you're the best!!

[beautiful-monsters]

Will and Hannibal Were Not "Obviously" Having Sex—And the Acephobia in Fandom Needs to Stop

I came across a post so rancid I had to stop everything and write this. Someone claimed that Hannibal confirmed Will and Hannibal were sexually intimate but that censorship forced it to be hidden through symbolism and metaphor. Then, they went on to say that ace interpretations of the characters are “distortions” and a result of people “projecting” their own issues with sexuality onto the show.

This isn’t just a bad take. It’s blatantly acephobic, and it reflects a larger issue in fandom where intimacy is treated as incomplete or lesser if it doesn’t include sex.

First, there is no explicit or implied confirmation in the show that Will and Hannibal had sex. The claim that NBC forced Bryan Fuller to “hide” a sex scene behind metaphor is completely made up. This is the same network that aired an entire dream sequence of the characters engaged in a trippy threesome/foursome. If Fuller wanted to confirm a sexual relationship, he would have found a way. The idea that sex was “implied” but had to be hidden is purely headcanon.

The argument that Bedelia “essentially states it as fact” is also wrong. Bedelia confirms that Hannibal is in love with Will, but that doesn’t mean it was sexual. The idea that her language was specifically about sex ignores the fact that Hannibal’s love for Will is directly compared to his love for his sister Mischa, the only other person he truly loved. There’s no evidence that Hannibal ever wanted or needed a sexual relationship with Will. What he wanted was complete and total emotional intimacy. That’s why his idea of a perfect life with Will included raising Abigail together, not sex.

The idea that Hannibal “replaced” Will with Bedelia because he needed someone he was familiar with "psychologically, emotionally, and physically" also falls apart. Bedelia was a means to an end. He didn’t love her, and she didn’t love him. She was convenient. Hannibal's ideal was never "finding a new Will"; it was making Will understand and choose him.

The claim that Will and Hannibal’s violence comes from "repressed sexual tension" and that their bond is a metaphor for "sexual awakening" isn’t supported by anything in the show. If their relationship was about sexual repression, there would be some indication that Will experiences that kind of desire—yet every single one of his physical relationships in the show is with a woman.

And let's get into Word of God:

Bryan Fuller himself has said that if asked, Will would identify as heterosexual, but that his bond with Hannibal is beyond labels, tied to intellect and emotion, not physical attraction. If Will’s love for Hannibal is so intense that it transcends sexuality itself, then an ace reading makes more sense than a sexual one.

And then there’s the blatant acephobia in the original post. The entire argument hinges on the idea that intimacy is only fully realized through sex. That if Will and Hannibal truly loved each other, it had to be sexual. That sex wasn’t just a possibility but a necessity for their relationship to be real. That’s not just bad media analysis—it’s the kind of thinking that asexual people constantly have to push back against in fandom and in real life.

The post even goes as far as saying that Will and Hannibal are "deeply sexual, intensely erotic figures" and that people "projecting" asexuality onto them are "distorting" canon. That kind of language isn’t subtle. It frames asexuality as a lesser, invalid reading while treating sex as the default, superior interpretation. It directly suggests that people who read these characters as ace are only doing it because of their own personal issues with sex. That is blatant acephobia, and it's part of a larger pattern in fandom where ace readings are treated as something that must be defended, while sexual ones are accepted without question.

Even beyond the acephobia, the post is hypocritical. If Hannibal is a show that relies on symbolism and metaphor, then an asexual interpretation is just as valid as a sexual one. You can’t say, "The show never explicitly confirms they had sex, but it’s obvious through implication" while simultaneously saying, "An ace reading is wrong because it’s not explicitly confirmed." That’s not how this works.

Will’s love for Hannibal was deep, overwhelming, and life-altering, but there is nothing in the show that suggests it was sexual. His only physical relationships were with women. And the fact that people feel so threatened by ace readings that they have to act like they’re distorting canon should really make them reflect on why they’re so desperate to erase non-sexual narratives.

At the end of the day, love is not inherently sexual. Intimacy does not require sex. And people need to stop acting like ace interpretations are "forcing" something onto a character while treating their own assumptions as undeniable truth.

[quarterlifekitty]

Imagine an AU for cod— inspired Haunting Ground, but with a few twists.

Like a princess, you were born in a castle— one with many secrets. You didn’t know it then, but your father was a homunculus— the first to successfully be made with the alchemical essence of life, azoth. This gift was passed down to you, born when he fell in love with a human woman. When you were young, your father and mother fled the castle with you, and from then on you lived the normal life they’d wished for, losing almost all memory of the castle as time went on. Eventually, you regard it as a dream. Until the day of the accident, you and your parents in the car. You wake up in that same castle, with no escape in sight.

Phillip Graves fills Ricardo’s role. He’s the one that kidnapped you from the scene of the accident. He grew up with you for the short time you lived in the castle, feeling robbed when your parents took you away. In his mind, you were always promised to him. He’s a homunculus without azoth of his own, a failure. But now that he has you again, to keep at his side and breed, he can use your azoth to ensure his line continues.

König takes the role of Debilitas. A homunculus made with both human and a bit of wolf dog— he’s never been quite right in the head, but has more than enough mass and muscle to make up for it. He has precious little in this life, as a lifelong servant to the castle, but he does have a small cloth doll he carries with him everywhere. One you happen to resemble. He pursues you relentlessly— wanting to take you in his arms, precisely where his doll should be.

Ghost is in the role of Daniela. He knows not what he is, only that he is incomplete. He is not a full man, he cannot feel things the way a man should. He views you with a spiteful jealousy— you are a complete, beautiful being. You got to live outside, when he has spent his life in service of this castle, never knowing love or companionship. He sees how full of life you are— the glow of your skin and the shine of your hair and the joy in your rare smiles. He wants that to himself. If he is not complete then perhaps owning, mating with a complete being will make him so.

Soap is your Hewie. A man captured, like you, but for the purpose of alchemical testing. (He’s got some dog in him now because it’s my AU and I get to be insane). You see him locked up when you awake, and come across him later in the courtyard, his leg snared in a bear trap— his pain and weakness from being kept prisoner make him unable to free himself. You help him, and he becomes your loyal companion, shoving himself between you and any danger, defending you with his new teeth— those of a predator. The dog in him is in love with your scent, and easily bonded to you from your compassion. You’re his mate now— and he’s going to keep you safe at all costs.

Which leaves Price as Lorenzo. Watching you go through the castle, helping you and giving you warnings, ensuring your survival. He is another iteration of the alchemist who built this place, keeping himself alive and reborn through alchemy over centuries. He seeks eternal life and the endless pursuit of knowledge. He sees your intelligence and quick wit through how you solve the puzzles, navigate the labyrinthine castle, and evade capture again and again.

He was there when you were young, and even then he knew you were special. Now you’ve blossomed into something perfect and beautiful. You’re not meant to live outside of these walls, among the ordinary. He wants you here, with him, nestled into his side and apprentice in his research. He’ll even let you keep Soap, since you’ve grown so fond of him. Being born into this castle made you a part of this family, and he’ll be damned before he’ll see you separated from him again.

[thealchemistbae]

Union Persona Chart of a Davison Chart Notes 💕

Disclaimer: This post is for entertainment purposes only.

thealchemistbae © do not copy, redistribute, or edit my content.

If you enjoyed this post, you can leave me a tip via PayPal at goddessguapa@gmail.com or via Venmo @goddessguapa. Thank you.

The Union Persona Chart of a Davison Relationship Chart is a deeply symbolic and powerful tool. It's like zooming into the energy of togetherness; how the relationship feels when you're truly united as one, what your "us" energy looks like, and how your souls blend at the most intimate level.

This chart shows how your relationship's soul expresses itself when it feels harmonized, deeply bonded, and spiritually aligned. This chart tells the story of the relationship at its most unified frequency. How it feels when you're in sync, flowing, co creating, or manifesting as a duo. Look especially at:

Union's sign and house -> how and where you two express your unity

Aspects to Union -> energies that support or challenge your connection.

Moon & Venus -> emotional and romantic expression of your shared soul

Midheaven (MC) -> public image of your union and long-term legacy

North Node -> karmic mission of the relationship when you're working together

Here are some placements:

💕: Union in Libra (7H) -> Cosmic marriage vibes. You were born to partner. Your connection just looks right; public or private. You feel incomplete without each other. May lead to a real-life wedding, joint business, or couple aesthetics that become iconic.

💕: Venus 8H -> Soul deep love, passion that feels like reincarnated romance. You'll feel like you've loved each other in multiple lifetimes. Sex will be transformative, even healing. Money or emotional merging may be intense...like you "lose yourself" in each other in the best and most chaotic way.

💕: Mars 3H -> Passionate communication, love language is a little chaotic and spicy. You fight and flirt with the same fire. Sexts, wild voice notes or intense conversations are part of your love story. One of you might turn the car around in traffic just to finish an argument or make out.

💕: Moon 6H -> Emotional comfort through daily routines, healing each other through consistency. Making breakfast together? Running errands side by side? That's intimacy for y'all. Your love grows through tiny rituals, like daily check ins or shared skincare routines. It's domestic bliss with emotional depth.

💕: Neptune 7H -> Dreamy, soulmate coded connection but blurred boundaries. You may feel like you're under a love spell. You fantasize about a future together constantly. But illusions can creep in so make sure you're not in love with the idea of them. Still, this bond feels magical.

💕: Saturn 5H -> Love is serious, slow burning, but meant to last. You probably won't fall for each other overnight, but once you do, its loyal AF. There may be karmic blockages around pleasure, or fears of not being "enough". But the love will mature into something beautiful.

💕: NN 10H -> You're meant to build a legacy together. This relationship pushes both of you toward success, fame, or public recognition. You may feel like your destiny is tied to doing big things together like launching a brand, becoming "relationship goals", or leaving a mark.

💕: Jupiter 4H -> Safe haven vibes. Big blessings in home and family. Living together might feel expansive, healing, and lucky. You may help each other heal family wounds or create a dream home. You might even move far away or travel for the sake of your shared "home".

💕: Neptune 12H -> Past life love. Spiritual, psychic, dreamy but sometimes elusive. This is deep soulmate stuff. You might dream of each other before meeting. Your bond exists in a bubble but beware of illusions or secrets. Spiritual growth, artistic collaborations, or healing work is likely.

💕: NN 2H -> You're meant to build value, money, self-worth, and security. This relationship is here to teach you both how to feel worthy and grounded. You may be destined to make money together, build a legacy, or create something that lasts. There could also be karmic lessons around trust and stability.

💕: Union 1H -> This relationship defines your identity. You'll feel like your best self together. People may always associate you with each other. This relationship impacts how you both move through the world, influencing your style, energy, and self-expression.

💕: Vertex 5H -> Fated romance. A destined creative spark. It'll feel like you were meant to fall in love. There's a magical spark that's impossible to ignore. You may be destined to co create children, art, business or love stories others admire.

💕: Sun conjunct Venus -> Love is your shared essence. You radiate affection. You're that couple people want to third wheel. Warmth, flirtation, beauty, and a natural understanding of what makes each other feel adored.

💕: Moon opposite Uranus -> Emotional rollercoaster, but never boring. Sudden mood swings or breakups/makeups. But you also liberate each other emotionally. You help each other break free from past conditioning.

💕: Venus trine Pluto -> Love that transforms you. You're not the same person you were before this connection. It's deep, magnetic, healing and probably lowkey obsessive in the best way.

💕: Jupiter conjunct NN -> You were destined to grow together. This relationship brings blessings, abundance, and aligned expansion. You elevate each other. Might meet through a spiritual or lucky twist of fate.

💕: Union conjunct Juno -> Sacred commitment. Cosmic vow. This relationship may feel like a literal soul marriage. You may feel spiritually wedded long before anything legal happens.

💕: Vertex 8H -> Fated intimacy. You meet through loss, crisis, or transformation. The connection feels inevitable, possibly obsessive. You unlock each other's deepest shadows.

💕: Union trine Saturn -> Stability & soul merging. You can go the distance. Even if things get serious slowly, its solid. You teach each other about loyalty, structure, and longevity.

💕: Pluto conjunct Vertex -> Destiny brings transformation. Your meeting changes the course of your lives. You'll never forget each other. Death/rebirth themes might define your love story.

💕: Lilith 11H -> Rebellious love. Power couple among the people. You might be seen as controversial, but that only makes others more obsessed. You defy society's expectations and attract unconventional friends or followers. You'll make waves together in your community.

💕: Juno 6H -> Marriage partner = daily life partner. Your true commitment shows up in everyday life, supporting each other's routines, healing together, or even working side by side. Marriage here is practical, spiritual, and nurturing.

💕: Mercury 3H -> Constant convo. Mental twins. You'll text all day, finish each other's sentences, or have a shared language that no one else understands. Road trips, daily errands, and casual convos can turn into deep, mind-melding moments.

💕: Sun in Leo -> Your connection is bold, proud, and romantic AF. You shine together. Main character couple energy, love being seen, may go viral or thrive in the spotlight.

💕: Venus in Scorpio -> Intense, magnetic, and deeply loyal. Passionate love, ride or die vibes, sexual healing. You obsess in the best way.

💕: Saturn in Pisces -> Spiritual responsibilities. You're learning to trust divine timing, surrender control, and build compassion. Karmic connection.

💕: Union in Taurus -> Steady, sensual, loyal merging. You build a luxurious life together, love spoiling each other, and value consistency.

💕: Destinn in Sagittarius -> Fated to explore and expand. You may travel together, write, teach, or inspire others spiritually.

Do you have any of these placements? In order to read a persona chart for a Davison relationship chart, follow the instructions I wrote on this post.

thealchemistbae © do not copy, redistribute, or edit my content.

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[bluejutdae]

Insomniacs | Bang Chan x you

synopsis: Chan is your roommate and you both have trouble with insomnia

Another sleepless night. Another night of tossing and turning. Another headache that you can feel starting at the back of your head. There’s really no point in staying in bed anymore, but you have to be quiet cause your roommate is maybe asleep, and you don’t wanna risk waking him up.

You wander through the apartment and end up in the kitchen, maybe some chamomile tea would help? After you heard noises from Chan’s room, too loud to be just him moving in his sleep, it’s easy to decide to make two cups and leave his on the kitchen table.

On nights like this, standing up is a chore. You’re tired to the bones, but your brain doesn’t seem to have received the message: awake, loud and a bit mean, it’s more awake than ever. Just few minutes later, your hear soft steps getting closer, and Chan finds you sitting on the kitchen floor. Your back to the cabinets door, warm mug between your hands, a warm substitute for real affection.

“No sleep tonight, uh?” Chan grabs his mug and raises it in a mock toast in your direction. He then sits at your side, knee knocking in yours and his head hits with a soft thud the kitchen furniture. You answer with a quiet hum and a shake of your head.

“Wanna talk about it?” You can’t help a smile from appearing on your face. Chan is always so gentle, so caring, that falling deep for him was way too easy and natural. “There’s not much to talk about. What about you?”

“Bad dream. Don’t wanna talk about it.”

“But you wanna talk?”

The two of you do this sometimes, you sit on the floor and talk about everything and nothing. There are only few things you’ll never tell each other: you’re never confessing to him, he’s never telling you he’s felt alone for so long before you arrived, you’re never telling him he’s the best part of your life.

He nods and sips his chamomile. “I heard sharks likes to be pet by subs.” One topic is as good as the other, but it gets the conversation started…

[…]

It’s hours later when he says: “…and so they broke up”, he concludes the story about a couple of his friends and their messy romance.

“That’s sad, tho. The idea of loving someone so much but not being able to be with them.” You’re looking in front of you, Chan’s face on the left of your visual field. You know what’s like to love someone but not being with him, watching him and being happy about his accomplishments but only doing it as a friend, as a roommate.

“Mh”, he nods and picks at the skin of his thumb with his teeth. “That sucks, you’re right. I hope they’ll manage to solve their problems and finally be happy.” With his head still resting on the cabinet’s door, he turns it towards you. “Are you happy?”

Your first instinct is to scoff. Your second instinct is to cry. Are you happy? What are you gonna answer Chan?

“I don’t know.” Your voice is so quiet you’re not sure he heard you. You’re about to drop the subject when he makes an inquisitive sound. Have you always been weak in front of Chan? Have you always given him all he asked for? “I don’t know, Chan. I have pretty much everything I need, I should be happy, right? I have a decent job, a pretty apartment, friends, health…” your sentence hangs incomplete. You know what is missing, but you can’t say it.

How do you tell your roommate you love him? How do you tell him you’d be happy if he were yours? How do you tell someone they’re the reason you keep smiling day by day without weighting them of the burden, the responsibility? And even if you were brave enough (and selfish enough) to tell him, then what if he doesn’t reciprocate and you lose him?

“It’s okay to want more.” Too kind, too good.

“What about you?” You ask, maybe he’ll forget your words.

“Are you asking me if I’m happy or if I want more?” What are you asking? You’re not sure, so you shrug, letting him pick for you. “I am happy.” he says, and then Chan does something that in all the late night talks you shared he has never done: he reaches for your hand and interlocks his fingers with yours. His palm is warm against yours, bigger, you can feel his callous on his fingers. “I could be happier,” he continues. “I want more, too.”

How can something so simple as holding hands make your heart race? Why are you suddenly so warm and happy? “It’s okay to want more” you repeat his words.

Chan’s face opens up in a beautiful smile and you blush so hard you can only hide your face, letting your head rest on his shoulder, hands still clasped together.

Later, you’ll kiss. Later, you’ll both confess, reciprocated feeling and plans for the future. Later, you’ll decide to make it official, so there’ll never be misunderstandings in this. But for now, the sun rising catches you unmoved. Hands clasped, heads resting close and you both asleep. You’re gonna regret falling asleep sitting in the kitchen floor, but this was the best late night talk for you two, so a cricked neck and achy asses are worth it.