#a little paranoia among friends

[marcyvampire]

SILLY LITTLE BAT

pairings ⸺ Yandere! Platonic! Batfamily x Anti-Hero! Fem!reader.

sinopsis ⸺ In the shadowed halls of Wayne Manor, a girl lost among the darkness seeks the connection she never had. Her mother, a kleptomaniac with a broken heart, vanished, leaving only echoes of empty promises. Surrounded by a family that never sees her, her pain turns into a deafening silence. The void left by her past traps her in a limbo of solitude and sorrow.

One dark night, seeking her own way, she became what she once despised. Now, like the albino bat rejected by its own flock, she flies alone in the twilight. Her pale skin glows in the dark, but her heart still yearns for the warmth of a home she never came to know.

warnings ⸺ Dark Themes, Dead, murdering,Disturbing Content, Unhealthy Obsession, Discrimination, Violence, Blood, LGBT Content, Child Abuse, Kidnapping, Implicit Sexual Content, Mental Illness, Addiction, Suicide, Torture, Corruption, Isolation, Trauma, Phobias, Paranoia, Manipulation

A/N — English is not my first language—Spanish is—so there might be some grammar or spelling mistakes here and there. This is the first part of a story I’m writing for a friend (Isabel, I love you, you brat), and also an experiment to see what it’s like to write on Tumblr. Please support me! :"((

Nobody is coming to save you

Get up.

Your mother was not a good woman, and that was an undeniable fact, heavy as the shadow that covers Gotham City at nightfall. She was a creature of the underworld, one among the specters that wandered under the yoke of crime, walking among dangerous names like Selina Kyle or Harleen Quinzel, yet always remaining in the background, never reaching their fame or infamy.

She was nothing more than a kleptomaniac and a mythomaniac, doomed to live by cunning and deceit. She took advantage of the men who crossed her path, from the lowest criminals, like The Penguin, to the most powerful man in the city: Bruce Wayne.

You never called him Dad. To you, he was always Bruce, and on the rare occasions you addressed him, you did so with distant formality, "Mr. Wayne." Richard, your adoptive brother, found in him a father figure, while to you, he was just another shadow in the mansion, that huge, cold house you arrived at after your mother’s death.

You remember how, time and again, you tried to warn your mother to stop stealing, to stop lying, that those dark paths would inevitably lead her to Arkham Asylum, surrounded by all the lunatics you feared so much, or even worse: to death. But she always responded with a playful smile, stroking your head with her delicate hands, adorned with stolen jewelry and crude tattoos. "Those are just fantasies of an eight-year-old girl," she would say sweetly, while her ring-laden fingers assured you that you needn’t worry, "I will always come back for you," she promised, "because you are the only thing more valuable than any diamond I’ve ever held."

But the cruel truth was that was the last time you saw her. That night she left, and she never returned. It was then that the last vestiges of innocence faded with her absence. From that moment on, you ceased to be a child.

And that was one of the few things you understood with absolute clarity. There were no more empty promises, no more caresses tinged with lies. All that remained was the silence of a life fading away, like a stolen jewel that never returns to its rightful owner.

The only thing you knew after calling the police when your mother didn’t show up after two days was that they found her corpse in a back alley far from Gotham, showing signs of having been beaten and bruised by some underground gang.

Commissioner Gordon searched the entire house for illicit substances and signs of debts to mobsters, but he only ended up finding documents, stolen jewelry, and letters from your mother that were never sent, and most importantly, DNA evidence implicating that the city’s millionaire was your biological father.

From then on, your life was stained with eternal gray, that muted shade that erased all traces of light or shadow. There was no more white or black, only a silent fog that, day by day, enveloped you and dragged you into a madness that seemed inevitable. Gotham itself seemed more alive than the place you called home, although "home" was never the right word.

You didn’t love any of the Wayne family members. Bruce, your biological father, never listened to you. To him, you were always just another shadow, a ghost in the vast mansion that he prioritized over his other children, his "true" heirs. There was always something more important, something more urgent, and your presence faded among the cold walls and the echo of his hurried footsteps. With each passing day, you became more invisible to him, as if your very existence were a mistake he preferred to ignore.

Richard, the perfect brother, was kind on some occasions. He spoke to you courteously, but when you needed him, when you asked him to attend one of your performances, there was always an excuse, something that kept him away, as if your passion and accomplishments were insignificant details in his heroic life.

Jason, on the other hand, despised you from the start. He saw you as an intruder, a child of gold—but not of that pure and valuable gold, but of a dirty and false one, which he always mocked with disdain. And although you never cared for him, when he died, silent tears rolled down your face. It wasn’t out of love, but out of respect for what he represented, for the brutal reality of his fall.

Tim, in contrast, was the most indifferent. To him, you were a nobody, so irrelevant that you weren’t even worth a glance. Spending time with his friends or being the Robin of the moment mattered more than you did. You lived on his periphery, in a limbo where neither your name nor your face seemed to exist.

Cassandra, Stephanie, Barbara… at least they treated you with politeness, but you knew they didn’t really remember who you were. They saw you, smiled at you out of obligation, but deep down you knew they had no idea of your name, your story, your struggle to be more than a shadow in that world.

The worst of all was Damian, your younger half-brother. When he arrived at the mansion, Alfred introduced him to you with that serene formality he always had, and you, driven by an almost desperate impulse, tried to reach out to him. You wanted to offer him the support and affection of an older sister, that warmth you would have longed for in his situation. But all you received in return was a cold response: a katana piercing your abdomen. I wish I could say it was just a metaphor, but no, that wound was as real as the blade that cut your skin.

You would have liked to think that the pain was symbolic, that Damian had only rejected your affection with harsh words or his usual arrogance. But no, it was much more than that. The only thing you received in exchange for your attempt at fraternal love was a stab, a scar you still carry not only on your body but also in your soul. Because in that brutal gesture, you understood that the blood that united you also separated you, sharper than any weapon. And that was how you tried to connect.

You strived to stand out, to learn, to shine in your own ambitions, wishing that your success would be enough to earn you a place, a bit of affection. But no matter how hard you tried, it was never enough. Your talent crashed against indifference, your achievements faded into the air, as if they had no weight in the lives of others.

The only light, the only beacon in that storm of gray, was Alfred. The only one who smiled at you with genuine tenderness, the only one you truly loved. To you, he was the real father, the one who was always there, expecting nothing in return, offering you a silent but firm love. You did call him father, and his presence was the only thing that kept your sanity, the only thing preventing the gray from consuming you completely.

But even that love, so genuine and deep, was not enough to fill the void that your own family left you. And in that void, you continue to float, trapped between the girl you were and the woman you are trying to be, searching for a place you can truly call home.

Y/n's small room, though modest, had always been her refuge. The walls were adorned with unfinished sketches, trophies from various activities, and some paintings she had completed with dedication, showcasing her passion for both manual and performing arts.

The dawn light filtered softly through the curtains, bathing the space in golden tones, giving it a warmth that contrasted with the coldness of the rest of Wayne Manor.

On the desk, a small cake rested on a plate, simple yet made with love. Beside it, Alfred, with his usual understated elegance, watched Y/n with a mixture of nostalgia and concern. He, the only one who seemed to remember her birthday, offered her a delicate professional drawing set, wrapped in smooth, elegant paper.

"Happy birthday, Miss," Alfred said with a gentle smile, although his eyes reflected a sadness that was hard to conceal. "I know how much you love art, so I thought this would be helpful for your new projects."

Y/n took the gift in her hands with a genuine smile. It had been so hard for her to find moments of joy lately, but Alfred's gesture filled her with a warmth in her chest that she hadn't experienced in a long time. She placed the gift into one of the many brown boxes she had prepared for her upcoming move.

"Thank you, Alfred. It's perfect," she said, examining the set carefully, as if each detail were a reminder of the affection he held for her. "It will help me a lot... although, well," she sighed, as if searching for the right words. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that." Alfred raised an eyebrow, attentive, as she continued, glancing at the small space that had been her home within the vast mansion.

"Today... today is not just my birthday. It's the day I leave here." Her voice was firm, yet there was a sense of liberation in it, as if this were a long-awaited step. "I am finally no longer a Wayne. I go back to being a L/n."

Silence filled the room for a moment, heavy and dense. Alfred clasped his hands, striving to maintain his composure.

"Miss, I can't help but feel a certain unease hearing this. Are you sure this is what you want? This house, though empty in many ways, has always been your home..."

"Home?" Y/n looked at him with a mix of sadness and determination. "This house has never been my home, Alfred. Not like it was for Dick, nor even for Bruce. I have always been a stranger here, the daughter of a woman who never fit into this world, the bastard child. My mother taught me to find my own path, to not cling to what doesn’t belong to me... and being here, being called Wayne, has never belonged to me." Alfred sighed softly, turning his gaze toward the window. He knew there was truth in her words, but that didn’t lessen the pain of her leaving. "I know it’s hard to understand," Y/n continued, "but for the first time in a long time, I feel happy, Alfred. I’ve graduated, college is just around the corner, and I want to start anew. I want to find what truly makes me, me... not what others expect of me."

The old butler remained silent for a few moments, nodding slowly. He knew he couldn't retain her, that it was not his place to interfere in the young woman's dreams. But still, he couldn’t help but feel a pang in his heart at the thought of the house being even emptier without her. "I just wish you find what you’re looking for, Miss. And if you ever need a place to return to... this door will always be open for you."

Y/n stepped closer to him, gently hugging him, something she had rarely done. "Thank you, Alfred," she whispered against his shoulder. "You will always be my family, but I need this. I need to discover who I am outside of this last name."

The old butler felt the lump in his throat as he tightened the embrace a little longer before letting her go. He knew that deep down, she was doing the right thing. But that didn’t make it hurt any less to see her leave.

"Alfred, can you call the movers? I’ll be leaving tonight," Y/n said as she closed the last box with trembling hands, her gaze lost in the empty corners of the room she once considered her refuge. The butler, ever serene, nodded with his unwavering calmness.

"Don't worry, Miss, I assure you they will be here on time." His voice was soft, almost an echo of the ancient walls of the mansion, as if he himself were part of that structure that had seen so many comings and goings, so many lives broken and healed in silence.

Alfred turned halfway to leave, but Y/n's voice stopped him, broken yet sweet, like a melody at sunset. "Alfred..."

The man turned slowly, his eyes filled with paternal warmth, though always contained behind a formal gesture. "Yes, Miss?" he replied, with that tranquility that had always brought Y/n peace in her worst moments.

She took a breath, feeling how the words she had kept for so long fought to come out, to break the shell she had built since childhood. "I’ve never told you, but... thank you. Thank you for being the father I never had, for being there when no one else was."

For a moment, the silence in the room was heavier than all the accumulated boxes, deeper than any word. Alfred, who had been a witness to so many confessions and secrets in that house, stood still, his eyes shining with an emotion he rarely showed. "Miss," he murmured, his voice slightly choked, "it was an honor and a privilege to take care of you. If I ever gave you anything close to what you deserved, then my life has had true purpose."

Y/n smiled sadly, nodding slowly. "You did, Alfred. You did. And for that, I will always carry you with me, even if I leave here."

The butler slightly bowed his head in respect, swallowing any emotion that might betray his composure. "Wherever you go, you will always have a home here, Miss."

"I know," she said, though in her heart, she knew she wouldn’t return.

And as Alfred left the room to make the call, Y/n let out a long sigh, as if with it, she were leaving behind a part of herself, a part she could no longer carry with her.

Life in Gotham is like constantly walking on the edge of a razor blade. The city never sleeps, always alert, always dangerous, and for someone with the Wayne surname, the risks multiply. It has been a year since you left the mansion, trying to erase any ties that bound you to that life, desperately wishing the name would fade into the echo of the dirty streets and crumbling buildings. But it's not that easy. The name Wayne remains an indelible mark that the media and the people of Gotham refuse to let fade. The forgotten child, the silent accident of billionaire Bruce Wayne. And although you try to live as if you don’t exist under that shadow, the weight of the legacy haunts you.

You left with little, barely enough money to rent a small apartment in one of the worst corners of the city. You share the space with a friend, a plant-loving girl who has filled every nook of the place with leaves and pots, as if trying to make green defy the constant darkness of Gotham. You get along well with her; her love for nature is almost an antithesis to the chaos of the city, and she has taught you that even in the hardest concrete, something can bloom. She always accompanied you on the coldest, loneliest nights, giving you a warmth that, although ethereal, was very welcome. But still, life is not easy. You barely survive, spending the little you have on cheap food and paying the rent. There are days when the cold seeps through the poorly sealed windows, and you wonder if it was really better to be in the mansion instead of this little trench. However, you prefer this rough freedom to the soulless luxury of Wayne Manor.

Freedom, however, comes at a price. It wasn't enough to distance yourself, to change your life, or even to always carry a knife for defense. Gotham does not forget. People recognize you in the shadows, whisper your name, and approach you, sometimes with curiosity and other times with disdain. You have been beaten more than once. Some just for being a Wayne, others because they think they can extort you, even though they have no idea you can barely get by. The scars on your body bear witness to those beatings, but you refuse to give up. You get up every morning, despite the pain, and continue on your way. You don’t need Batman. You don’t need Bruce. You learned long ago that he wouldn't come to save you.

That night, like so many others, you were heading to the subway for your night shift, with the hood of your coat covering your face, trying to go unnoticed. The sound of the tracks echoed in your ears, a constant reminder of the city's hustle. You had gotten used to walking fast, avoiding eye contact, as if each step was a small battle won against the city. But this time, something was different.

"So it was true, the little Wayne girl is roaming the city... how lovely." The raspy, mocking voice rang out beside you, cutting through the heavy air of the train station. The man speaking wore a suit that, at first glance, seemed elegant, but there was something about his extreme thinness, his skin clinging to his bones and his disheveled hair, that made him look more like a specter of Gotham than a distinguished figure. A ghost from the shadows that had stalked you since you set foot on the streets.

If it weren't for his gaunt appearance and unsettling aura, you might have mistaken him for one of your father's employees. "I'm not a Wayne anymore," you said disdainfully, your voice sharp like the edge of a dagger refusing to be touched. "If you want money, I don’t have any. And Mr. Wayne wouldn’t give a cent for me either."

Your gaze drifted to the station clock. 8 minutes until the train that would take you away from this corner of Gotham, far from the shadows and faces that always seemed to recognize you.

The man let out a dry, raspy laugh that sent chills down your spine. "I don’t want your money, pretty girl," he replied, moving closer, invading your space with the same familiarity that Gotham’s filth slipped into every corner. "You’re worth more than that." You felt his calloused, scarred hand rest on your hip, with a pressure that was neither violent nor friendly. The contact filled you with disgust.

7 minutes.

You clenched your fist, your jaw tight as you struggled to maintain your composure. "I don’t want sex either, idiot," you spat, your words loaded with contained fury. Your hand subtly slid toward your bag, where your knife lay, waiting to be used.

6 minutes.

The man didn’t flinch. In fact, he let out a low, mocking laugh. "And I don’t want that either, little girl," he murmured, his cold, deep blue eyes scrutinizing you as if they could read every dark corner of your soul. "I want something more from you."

5 minutes.

"What do you want then?" you asked, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady, even as the ice of fear began to creep down your spine. Your eyes scrutinized him, searching his gaze for any hint of his true intentions, but all you saw was darkness.

4 minutes.

He let out a long, chilling laugh, tightening his grip on your hip. "Do you know what I want, Y/n?"

3 minutes.

His voice dropped, as if his words were a cursed secret the wind refused to carry away. "I want you."

2 minutes.

The world seemed to stop. You knew there was no time to run. There was no time to pull out the knife or to scream. It was as if the clock itself had conspired against you, reducing those last minutes to mere seconds.

1 minute.

The blow was sharp, a flash of excruciating pain at the back of your head. The cold metal of the station, the hum of the city, everything faded abruptly. The last thought that crossed your mind, before the world vanished into darkness, was that this time, you didn’t expect Batman to save you. It wasn’t a mere thief or a street threat that was taking you.

Gotham, with all its cruelty, always had new ways to remind you that there is no escape.

That night, when the Gotham subway stopped at the station, there was no one to pick up.

The mansion felt emptier than ever, like a deserted and cold labyrinth, where each hallway seemed to stretch into an infinite tunnel, devouring the light.

The silence was overwhelming, an oppression that enveloped every corner, as if even the ancient walls had run out of words. It was so heavy that the few who remained in the mansion couldn’t help but move uncomfortably, trying to fill that void with something, anything.

Bruce Wayne walked through those same hallways with a strange feeling, as if something was missing, though he didn’t know what. An unease, a persistent discomfort that he couldn’t shake off.

He had been like this for months, with that absence haunting his mind, a gap he couldn't identify. And then, suddenly, like a gust of icy wind, the truth struck him.

You.

His daughter.

His little daughter.

How long had it been since he last saw you? When was the last time he heard your laughter, the one that always seemed too sarcastic, too filled with resentment? He stopped abruptly, frowning. Why couldn’t he remember you? He couldn’t bring to mind a clear image of your face, not even how you used to look at him... why? How could he have forgotten you like that?

Damn.

It was as if time had stopped. It had been a year, maybe more, since he had really thought about you. He felt a pang of guilt pierce his chest, a heavy, silent guilt that dragged him into the abyss of his own negligence. Not knowing what else to do, he began to check the rooms, one after another.

Each door he opened was another blow to his conscience. Where was your room? The more he searched, the more confused he felt. The mansion was enormous, but how could he have forgotten where you slept? How was it possible that he didn’t know where you lived in the house where both of you grew up? Had you been here all this time?

Each door he opened was identical to the last, as if all the rooms had fused into one.

None showed a trace of you.

None seemed to have a hint of your presence. Didn’t you decorate your room? He thought frantically, didn’t you even mark it as yours? Panic began to take hold of him. Anxiety wrapped around him like a fist tightening on his chest. Were you still living in the mansion? Or had you left without saying a word, like a shadow fading at dawn? But... no, you hadn’t mentioned anything. You hadn’t said you were leaving. Or had you? And if you had, why didn’t he remember? How could he have ignored you for so long that now he didn’t even know if you were still under the same roof?

“Ah!” he exclaimed in a whisper, unable to contain the dread he felt.

Frustration consumed him from within. He stopped in the middle of the hallway, breathing heavily, and the echo of his voice faded into the empty walls. He tried to remember something, anything about you, about the last time they spoke, about how you were... but everything was blurry, as if his mind was betraying him, hiding you behind an impenetrable fog.

How could he have forgotten so much?

He brought his hands to his head, trying to calm himself, but only felt more confusion, more desperation. The mansion, which had once been his home, now felt like a strange and foreign place.

Had you been the one who made it feel like home? The question echoed in his mind, but he had no answer. Just more questions. More uncertainties. Finally, he let his arms fall, exhausted. He had checked almost all the rooms and had found not a trace of you. Not a clue. Not a sign that you had been there. And at that moment, something dark and painful began to settle in his heart.

Had you ever really been there?

Then something caught his attention as he passed by the cleaning room. In a dusty corner, next to a forgotten bag, something was protruding. Something small, old, and faded. He bent down and pulled it from the dirty clothes. It was a stuffed animal, or what was left of one. The faded black of its suit left no doubt. It was a figure of Batman, but worn down by time, battered to the point of looking forgotten.

Bruce's eyes were fixed on the small piece of fabric hanging from the doll's neck. A tag.

Your name.

Your name, handwritten, in ink that was already fading.

Bruce felt a lump in his throat, a mix of guilt and rage. How could he have forgotten something so important?

He clutched the doll tightly, as if doing so would return a piece of you to him, but instead of comfort, he only felt more emptiness. Where were you? He ran to Alfred, who looked at him with a mix of concern and pity.

"Alfred..." Bruce said, his voice breaking. "Where is she? Where is my daughter?"

The butler, with his always serene face, seemed to age suddenly. A long silence settled between them, as if time was fading away. "Mr. Bruce, I didn’t mean to..." Alfred lowered his gaze. "I didn’t want to burden you with that truth, but... it’s time you know."

Bruce felt a chill run down his spine. Truth? What truth?

"She left almost a year ago. She didn’t say where. She just... she took all her belongings, though they weren’t many, and left. She said she didn’t want to be a burden. That you and the other family members had too many things to worry about."

Bruce took a step back, as if the words had physically struck him. Did she have enough age to leave? A burden? Never, not for a second, did he think that of you, of his little daughter who, even though she wasn’t wanted, he embraced under his wing just like Damian.

You were never a burden.

...or were you?

No, he refused to acknowledge it; he just... he hadn’t spent time with you because Gotham needed him!

But when you needed him, where was Batman?

Where was Bruce Wayne when his only biological daughter needed him?

"Alfred, do you know anything about Y/n?" the hero asked, worry clear on his face.

Alfred didn’t look at him; he only stared into nothingness. "...I haven’t heard anything about her for two months...

And honestly... I'm starting to think...

that she might be lost to us forever..."

A/N — This is definitely apart from being my first official Tumblr post, it is also my first DC post and especially the first from the Lord of the Night xD

Don't hesitate to ask me anything if you want.

Isabel, I dedicate this to you, my love. Eat more to be well, you fucking anorexic, don't suck.

take a bath!

inspiration: @acid-ixx with his Again & Again series, @gotham-daydreams' work, @i-cant-sing's work and @klemen-tine's work, be sure to check them out!

[princessbrunette]

sleepy n thinkin ab using rafe while he’s on game!!

he’s too focused to care that you’re just so needy for him, whining and crying because you want him so bad till it gets to the point where you’re splayed in front of him, panties gone n rubbing yourself on his bulge just to feel a little bit better!!

⛸️✧˖°❅🤍

something about his nonchalance only further riles you up. he dodges around your head when you straddle him— hot in the face and teary eyed. you’d become tired of being ignored, but that romantic sickness that swirled in your stomach betrays you, and you miss him despite his presence being so close physically. he’s right there, but he hasn’t so much as glanced at you in hours.

his bulge presents itself to you. it’s always there, thick and prominent in any pair of slacks he wears, even clear in the old pair of grey sweatpants he wears to bed. you wondered why rafe never would be caught dead in the casual garment, being such a popular clothing item to sport among guys his age — and aside from his attachment to old money and being a ‘grown man’, maybe he wouldn’t wear sweatpants out doors because he was afraid of showing too much. after all, you could practically see each vein in his cock through the material.

if ignoring you for a screen wasn’t enough, he wears a headset today too. he’s not even a gamer, he wouldn’t call himself one anyway — viewing it as a hobby to be juvenile and time wasting. however; he was a sucker for 2K, coarse thumbs dashing across joysticks as he swears into the mic, undoubtably bossing topper or kelce about, telling them to pull their weight. classic rafe.

your legs are split either side of him as you find solace in the warm skin of his neck, peeking from the blue t-shirt he wears. he doesn’t mind you, it’s nothing he’s not used to anyway — your clingy and grabby ways catching up with you after an evening of being pretty much ignored for his friends and virtual characters on a screen. you’ve soaked yourself, it’s embarrassing really — how much watching your boyfriend relax and blow off steam can rile you up. like previously mentioned, it’s the lack of acknowledgment too. at this point, you’d do anything to appoint the attention to yourself.

“careful, baby.” is all he offers, barely opening his mouth to say it as he concentrates on the screen. you respond with a pleased hum as you grind on his bulge and he adjusts his headset, sitting up a little straighter with paranoia that his friends might hear. despite this, he continues to play — and you continue to hump him.

it’s clear it feels good for him too, because whilst he outwardly ignores you— he leans back, licking his lips and bucking his hips ever so slightly to adjust his seating, eyes glued to the screen. he even continues to boss his friends around through his headset, but you’re refusing to ignore the way his voice comes out just that bit breathier and slower, playing a little worse on the screen.

he knows when to call it quits on the game — and it’s when you really start putting on a show. you sit back, feet pressed onto the bed as you spread your knees wider — displaying your cunt fully to him as you grind, letting your pleased whimpers free without a care for his friends hearing. you tune in to what he’s saying through the mic as he speaks his farewell.

“alright — hey, i’m goin’. my girls — shutup, topper — my girl needs me. don’t expect you suckers to understand. yeah whatever bro.” you’re not sure what he’s responding to and you don’t care, only whining when your folds audibly part, your stickiness calling to him.

he yanks the headset off his head and looks down on you with a glassy gaze and parted lips.

“you wanna be heard. that right?”

“no, just want you.” you combat pathetically, panting like a puppy as you hump on your boyfriend.

“yeah…” he drawls, grasping a thick handful of your hip, lips shining from his tongue’s coat in the darkened hue of his bedroom. “you want attention. tha’s what you fuckin’ want.”

you pout at this, wishing he’d drop the mean act for just a moment. you can usually work it out of him, keep pleasing him ‘til he breaks — getting soft and sometimes even silly on you. you roll your hips, inspiring a low hum from him now as he helps you along with two hands on your ass.

“maybe i just missed you, rafey.” you groan, high pitched and bordering on pornagraphic. his nose scrunched when his lips part, eyes fixated on the way your folds part around the girth of his shape in his sweatpants.

“so god damn fuckin’ sexy.” he speaks through gritted teeth, and in a split flash you’re on your back — rafe hovering above you with strong greedy hands pinning you down. “gettin’ off on my lap. who’d you think you are, hm?” he hums, taking the lead as he noses at your jaw. there’s a faint clattering of his headset sliding off the sheets but you ignore it, lost in the moment.

“think m’your girl.” you daze, and if there’s any message your boyfriend drills into your head, it’s that his girl is allowed to take what she wants. even from him.

“got that right.” he’s fighting his sweatpants down with one hand, shoving your thighs open with the other. you didn’t need any preparation today, the art of being purely ignored for a game had gotten you as wet as they come.

⛸️✧˖°❅🤍

[fangirlingpuggle]

So gravity falls AU/fic prompt where the twins actually are Bill and Ford's kids. Like an experiment started during a certain karaoke night and pushed away lost among stuff after break-up and during Ford's paranoia era (Neither remember they even started the experiment they were both so drunk)

So after Ford is lost in the portal Stan is looking through his lab years later, 12 years before show starts he knocks down the experiment it actives and Stan is staring at 2 tiny little shapes with big eyes, one a pink star the other a blue pine tree with an odd little birth mark on it's top.

Stan is freaking the fuck out at 2 little shapes who are crying and sound like baby's, he finds an old sticky note and recognizes Ford's handwriting... Ford's drunk handwriting... and is like Sixer what did you do oh fuck I'm an uncle now.

Cue Stan raising his little demon niece and nephew, reading all the parenting books but NONE OF THESE TELL YOU WHAT TO DO IF THEY'RE DEMONS OR FLOATING.

The twins living their lives trying to learn powers, only staying in shack or lab as can't really go out, they have gone out a few times with Stan while hiding in his coat. They know all about their dad (The human one at least) stuck in the portal.

Soos knows about them of course he's been working at the shack since he was a kid, he loves both the little demon dudes and is the best big cousin/brother

It's only that summer when they're 12 that the twins have figured out how to turn in human forms for as long as they want. So Stan tells everyone his niece and nephew are coming to live with him, he's going to enroll them in school after summer.

The twins are so exited to finally go out and explore gravity falls and meet people, Mabel is so excited for friends. Dipper really wants to learn about the mystery and all the weird stuff and maybe learn more about his and Mabel's powers they think they could do more but have no idea what they could do.

They have a rule with Stan, no demon powers (As long as you don't get caught and it can't be traced back to us)

Ford returning and suddenly facing his brother...and his son and daughter.

[ozzgin]

Hello again, are requests still open? If they are, can I request headcanons for Izuku, Shoto, and Tamaki with an artist reader? They stumble upon the reader's book full of art. The book also has drawings of them and the reader together.

Yes! I even have your previous ask halfway written in my drafts, which I might just conveniently incorporate it here haha. I'm just very slow to write everything. I do mark the request section as closed when it's the case., so no worries.

BNHA Characters x Artist! Reader Headcanons

Featuring Midoriya Izuku, Todoroki Shoto, Amajiki Tamaki and a reader whose doodles are rather obvious in meaning. More fluff!

Midoriya Izuku

Deku is not really one to pry. So it was absolutely not his intention to snoop. He'd just assumed that your notebook has generic scribbles made of class notes, facts and observations, similar to his. He didn't expect to find intricate sketches, and of such quality too!

Really, he's mesmerized. He has an eye for detail and will carefully scan every line and every brush stroke. Is this a portrait of your teacher? Fantastic angle you've chosen! The crosshatching adds a lot of depth. He slowly flips through the pages, wondering why you've never mentioned your hobby. He's even a little dejected, fearing you might not consider him as close a friend.

Then he reaches the doodles of him and you together. Oh. Ooooh. He has to look away for a moment, trying to contain his blush. Well, it certainly makes sense you'd keep it from him. He'd like to return the sketchbook and pretend he never saw anything, but...As much as he doesn't want to embarrass you, he can't get the idea out of his mind. To think you like him, too...Can he really hide how happy that makes him?

Todoroki Shoto

Opening your personal belongings was completely unintentional. Todoroki had accidentally included one of your notebooks among his own and swiftly left for his dorm room. As he clumsily dumped out the contents of his bag, he finally spotted the foreign item sprawled out on his desk.

Drawings? He can't think of anyone in class to ever mention such interest. Then he remembers he sat next to you, so it must be yours. He blushes slightly at the idea. It would be most terrible of him to snoop further, but he can't help his curiosity. He'd love to know more about you and a perfect opportunity is shining brightly before him. Just a quick peek...nothing more.

To think you were this skilled and he never noticed. He stumbles upon a portrait of himself. Unexpected. When did you even have the time to observe him so carefully? His lips purse in embarrassment. By the time he reaches the lovely couple doodles, his ears are bright red. Was his crush that obvious? He can hardly believe the coincidence of you liking him back and expressing it so clearly. Returning the sketchbook will certainly be interesting. It is the duty of a Prince, after all (If he is to refer to your little sketches).

Amajiki Tamaki

Tamaki has noticed how you often sneak away from the crowds and assumed you, too, are struggling with anxiety and awkwardness. Upon further inspection, however, it seems you just enjoy sketching by yourself. He feels a little ridiculous, hiding behind the wall and spying on an innocent hobby like this.

Then again, why the secrecy? He always thought you're good friends, yet you never mentioned anything about it. Combined with the fact you frequently praise him or gaze at him uncomfortably long...Are you planning on pranking him or something? No, no, that's just his paranoia talking. He reassures himself as he holds the little book you conveniently forgot behind. This is the perfect opportunity to prove to himself he's overthinking as usual.

Seeing the doodles of you and him together turns him into a fumbling, red-faced mess. His hands are trembling. The polite thing to do right now would be to close the notebook and promptly return it. Still, he's stuck in place, staring at the pages. Is this a joke? You can't possibly like him back. Someone like him. As much as he denies it, the longing won't leave his flustered heart. A man can dream...

[astvrook]

洪水 | YANDERE THEMES | NI-KI.

"of course I've missed you, mum." you mumble, with the fluency of an actor. you'd even consider auditioning for a theatre major if you weren't so busy sorting out your new flat, instead of focusing on your college plans.

at home, your parents seem to have been struggling. growing up, you sometimes heard them talk about love and promise to be faithful to each other, but to you, love shouldn't be demonstrated through weekly fights that often lead to breakups or the threat of divorce, which puts everyone in the family's mental health at risk.

the only positive connection you had with your sister, but that complicity faded as you got older, as she fell into adolescence and became addicted to partying, clothes shopping and chatting with friends. meanwhile, you've moved to a new city to live on your own and continue your college studies in a new environment after applying for a transfer.

your main goal and dream is to maintain excellent grades, so you won't be forced by your parents to move back. and sure, you don't miss much about your old town. In fact, you had some friends there that you left behind, good friends who may now think you're selfish for not even saying goodbye to them, among them ni-ki.

nishimura riki, a year younger than you, came into your life thanks to his relationship with your younger sister, which began three years ago. with his sharp tongue and quick temper, he was a sweet boy who somehow impressed you and stood out among the others. over time, you became close to each other as you discovered that you shared common tastes, had a similar sense of humour and seemed to complement each other. and yet, you eventually had to walk away from him, not because of the implications of a stronger-than-usual relationship, but because of what that closeness stirred up inside of you.

more precisely, things changed between of you that night you went out to celebrate his coming of age and he tried to kiss you. while he quickly apologised for his thoughtless act and reiterated his interest in your sister, it was clear in his eyes and shyness that his feelings were not as clear as he had intended. you silently wondered why he didn't acknowledge his interest in you. and as much as you hated the situation, the suspicion that he might have been in love with you warmed your heart a little, although you felt pity for waiting for someone who wouldn't fight for you.

so you decided to move away to protect your emotional peace from people who could complicate your life.

determined not to fall in love just for the sake of appearances, a few weeks after moving to the new city, you ventured out. you felt it was the right time to have new experiences at your age, so you set up dates with people you met online and sometimes arranged them when you had time off from your university studies. you made it clear that you weren't looking for a relationship at the time, and although you felt like you were being watched in these situations, as if there was something wrong or someone judging you, you tried to convince yourself that it was just delusional paranoia.

"i'll call back later, need to hang up," you stated hurriedly, trying to say you were busy without wanting to sound rude, especially since the caller was your mum.

and, as you grab the doorknob to enter your apartment, you get the unpleasant feeling that it's damp. "yuck" you think, but you quickly head to the kitchen to start organising what you've just shopped for.

"maybe you will, or maybe you won't. i do. i know you well, (y/n)," says your mum. "and before I forget, just wanted to tell you that (your sister's name) wanted to talk to you this morning. she seems to need help with her birthday arrangements."

you scowl as you notice that the air-conditioner is not on and respond: "i'll take care of it, but it's got to be her who calls me, mom, she's got a mobile phone after all."

"she claimed to have called you, but there was no response to her messages," insists your mother.

"that's not possible…" you start to argue, but as you check your phone on the dresser to scroll through the notification bar, you notice your sister's missed messages and calls from a few days ago. "ouh…"

you notice that you've been carrying your phone with you less often lately, and you face reality and admit that you only carry it when you have an important date, and also when you want to get away from something or someone, and you realise this when you see ni-ki's messages.

"she's your sister, (y/n), you shouldn't ignore her. I don't know what happened between the two of you or what's going on, but you'll have to work it out. just remember that you're older and you shouldn't act like a spoilt girl."

the term "spoilt girl" was familiar to you, as your father used to call them that when they fought over a toy. It's so ironic.

"well… au revoir, mum," you said before hanging up.

although your mum was right that you should work on rebuilding your relationship with your sister, you were reluctant to do so in a short phone conversation of twenty minutes or fewer. plus, you're not yet ready to admit the real reason why you "broke" up with her: your mistake of falling in love with her boyfriend. so, for now, you prefer to wait for your guilt to subside before facing his advice, while you go to organise the products in the fridge.

about sixty minutes later, when you hear a notification on your mobile phone, your body goes into alert mode because it might be the girl you went out with yesterday, minji (she, with her black hair flowing gracefully down her back and a face that could touch the gods themselves, gave you a great time strolling along the seashore) and without wanting to admit it, your impatience overwhelms you, as if you were a schoolgirl eagerly awaiting another text message from her, or yearning for some sign that you're not so boring (again) that she doesn't want to go out on a second date with you.

by contrast, when you switch on your mobile phone and see a new message from ni-ki, feel like time has stopped, leaving you unable to move. although a wave of emotions overcomes the panic in your heart, your mind urges you to take a deep breath and count to a hundred. and the idea of staying calm is a distant option at the moment.

one side of your mouth is crooked, you realise, and in your mind you criticise him, silently pleading that it's not the end. but you soon realise that you look pathetic because you can't even reply to one of his messages.

so you decide to ignore him again.

(...)

just after midnight, ni-ki entered the apartment, moving cautiously as if he was afraid of waking up his girlfriend in their shared apartment, an idea that proved true for him, at least in his mental world. he moved slowly through the environment, stopping at the end to stare at the door with relief when he realised how easy it was to get in, and felt a brief moment of triumph as he savoured the sensation, which quickly gave way to the reality of being in your space.

"finally..." ni-ki spun around, letting any trace of manners fade away, rivalled only by the sound of his slippers on the floor and by the beating of his heart.

before he enters your room, he releases the handle to lift his feet, removes his slippers and places them next to the wall in a gesture that others don't consider necessary but you appreciate as a sign of good manners. and he congratulates himself because he has eliminated from his behaviour what he knows bothers you: eating with his mouth open, using the phone while eating, talking too loudly in important situations, etc. all to please you.

sure, most people fear death, but for ni-ki, the biggest fear is not being loved. ever since he saw a picture of you on your sister's phone, he has been trying to be the perfect boy. he has adopted your favourite colour, your culinary tastes, and even your film preferences. needless to say, he studied how to behave with you, wondering if one day your eyes would fall on him or you would miraculously wake up feeling perfect and wishing he were by your side forever.

your sister may have been nice at first, which ni-ki liked. however, he started the relationship mainly to fit in with his friends and to avoid being teased for being single. you and she inherited your mother's hair colour, share the same eye colour and have a strikingly similar appearance. despite this, (your sister's name) failed to awaken ni-ki's desire to dominate her, and as the days passed, her desire to end the relationship grew.

he chooses not to wait for you to wake up to speak, instead reaching into the collar of his shirt to lift the fabric over his head, and makes room for his torso to be caressed by the coolness of the room, settling with his knees on the mattress on either side of your hips.

you almost always sleep on your stomach, giving him a free hand to climb up and kiss you on your upper back.

a faint humming sound from your mouth interrupts the silence of the night.

"shh… just go back to sleep in peace."

ni-ki notices your limbs relaxing and your lips quivering, and stops abruptly. he places his hand on the side of your face, asking for support and confessing, "when i heard you left, i almost lost my mind, can you imagine? can you imagine? without you, i'm nothing."

his throat is dry and muscles are tense, as he brace for what's to come…. something bad. although ni-ki had promised to give you time to fall in love with him, promises often remain unfulfilled. and tonight, that promise will cost you dearly.

"how naïve, noona. always so selfish to bring everything of yours and not come back." ni-ki continues to speak, barely able to moving his body away from yours, his nose buried in your hair and feeling dizzy from the fragrance. "but forgetting the most important thing: of me."

LISTA MAESTRA DE ENHYPEN

[azenpal]

The answer to my maybe

– aaron hotchner x neighbor!female reader

summary | being in a new place is weird, but you make it harder for yourself by crushing on your neighbor

warnings | nothing really, just me trying to envision a pervert hotch, cliffhanger

word count | 2055

a/n | hi, i’m just going to drop this one here because i can’t find the inspiration for the smut part of this story<3

Living in a house alone isn’t as fun as the movies made you dream of. Although you enjoy your alone time and doing the things you promised yourself you’d do for years. Somehow, there was still that nudging feeling that something wasn’t in its right place, telling you there’s a factor missing in your life now. The cycle of waking up, going to your job, doing an activity, and picking up a hobby felt mundane when you end the night staring at your ceiling. And it turns out, there were only a few DIY projects in your home you could do until you feel fed up with it. So here you were, laying on your sofa on a Saturday, staring at your window, hoping inspiration hits you to do anything. 

But if you could be honest, the only reason the view looked good was that there’s a chance you’ll see a glimpse of your neighbor– Aaron Hotchner, no— Agent Aaron Hotchner. The neighbor who introduced himself as you were moving the boxes in your home. The guy that told you places to see and restaurants to try as soon as the second time you met him. The father of Jack Hotchner, an adorable bundle of joy dressed as a cute little boy. The man your friends refer to as the hot neighbor when you confess to them how you feel “hot” every time you see him, among the many other confessions you would do and are willing to do for that man.  

But over the weeks, you grew to have a soft spot for the Hotchners each time you saw them playing outside or walking back to their homes with their ice cream. So, of course, bringing them snacks and buying Jack toys that remind you of him became a habit of yours and is certainly not just an excuse to see his dad, although that is a bonus. Yet every time you see Mr. Hotchner, you start to feel that your liking of him is growing too strong. It became so bad that you actually tried not to initiate any conversation with the Hotchner, but Jack is just too damn cute to ignore, and your resolution easily crumbled after two days. Failing to control your feelings and thoughts for Aaron, your mundane days were over but filled with nights imagining how it would feel to be in his arms. 

So, aside from your normal routine, nothing has changed, and you still have a lot of free time. But instead of finding a new hobby or trying to be productive, most of your days are now spent thinking about what you could do to stop your never-ending fantasies with Aaron. Maybe you just have to get out and spend money. Or maybe a shopping haul? Or maybe your period is just nearing, and you’re just horny at a different kind of level. Or maybe you just really need to get laid. Or maybe you need some romance in your life?  

Or maybe, just maybe, you were starting to want the feeling of a thrill? The idea of being careless, having the ability to just do without thinking of the consequences of your actions, or simply, your coworkers’ idea of having fun every time they have a drink. But a one-night stand is just a no-no; you know that you don’t trust people that way and the paranoia that you’ll get murdered if you’re alone with a stranger is just too strong for you to sleep with a stranger. 

But now that you’re thinking about it and you’re hearing your thoughts, maybe you’re just being dramatic about your life.

Then again, your friends have told you to go out more and “explore.” Meet new people and enjoy the different possibilities life has to offer aside from your usual safe and plain routine. So, heeding your friend’s advice, who may either start an adventure or a murder, the temporary answer to your maybes is meeting their friend, whom they all talk kindly of. The truth is, you will never do this on your own. The reason being a mix of anxiety, fear, insecurity, and your strong imagination of how your date would and could dump you on the spot in a hundred ways made you stop your finger every time you want to try a dating application. But knowing that the people you trust know the guy eases your negative emotions. However, while you’re thankful to them for being supportive, a part of you still regrets using the words “bored to death” and “looking for a thrill” when you opened up to them; after all, a delusional part of you wants to be on a date with your neighbor. 

And after weeks of talking with Jake and a side of asking your friends about what to do and if what you’re doing is correct, you actually had the courage to meet him. But behold, now that the meeting place is set and the time is also scheduled, you did not think of the possibility that you will rack your brains configuring countless combinations of your clothes. You want to appear like you put in the effort to look presentable but not overwhelming because maybe he could be someone special and think that your clothes were too much. But all you know is whether he likes you or rejects you, you want to look and feel good tonight and not think of Aaron Hothcner.  

With your bed filled with pants, shirts, skirts, your favorite underwear, and the dress you felt confident in, you step back, trying to think which combination will make you feel good tonight. There’s only a small chance that this date will solve your problems, but you want to try your best; after all, it’s better not to have regrets. So, holding onto your two favorite underwear while still in your towel, you try to imagine which would be better to boost yourself up. 

But then again, the point of this date was for you to feel something new, so maybe wearing the usual wouldn’t be the right way to start- and also in hopes of getting some, as your friends have said. So, looking at the further edge of the bed, you grabbed the caramel nude and periwinkle underwear you have and contemplated between the two. Periwinkle would look good on you, but maybe it’s too much for a first date? Not that you want to impress him with your underwear. But caramel nude feels the safest right now, not too far off your comfort zone, but still different. 

Choosing the caramel nude underwear made you feel as if you’ve taken a big step in getting ready, even if you haven’t chosen what to wear. Although realistically thinking, it would take you hours to decide what to wear, so opting to do your usual make-up, you sent a picture of all the clothes in your bed to your friends for their choice. 

While waiting for your friend’s reply and starting on your make-up, you glimpse the dress you’ve only worn once for a specific purpose-- to deliver cookies to Aaron Hocthner’s door. Stupid? Yes. But do you regret buying it? No. You couldn’t say you regretted buying that dress because he complimented you for wearing it. And it’s not just that he said you looked pretty in it, but the fact that he noticed it was the first time you wore it made you feel hot. You could just combust on the spot. But of course, you didn’t admit it was new when he asked if it was, making a lie that you didn’t realize you still have that dress. 

That day also made you think that, just maybe, you had a chance with him. See, you remember what he wore the first day you saw him. He was wearing a Rangoon green polo; well, it was a well-fitted polo. You’re still unsure about the color, given that you just obsessed about it and searched for hours in the hues and shades of green that day. He also had sunglasses on, but you didn’t get a good look at them because the moment he saw you walking on your pavement, he quickly got rid of it and approached you while smiling. 

And as you see yourself smiling like a fool while remembering that day, you realize maybe that day sealed your fate already. But the buzzing of your phone cut your thoughts as your friends all voted for you to wear a dress. Making you remember the goal of tonight’s plan, stop thinking about Aaron Hotchner. 

Your date is a hot man. If you were in the mood for sex, you might jump his bones to end your dry spell. This is not a denial of the fact that you were in the mood for sex because, technically, you are, just not with the man in front of you. And maybe one more reply of saying what and I’m sorry I didn’t hear that, and your hot date would also know that your mind is floating to someone. Floating to someone serious-looking, big, hot, FBI, and most definitely your neighbor.

At this point, you have given up trying not to think about Aaron. Maybe when the date ends, you could say sorry to your friends and then thank them for doing this for you. You could also ask them to help you make a move on Aaron because, apparently, he’s in your head no matter what distraction you put yourself with. When you entered the place, you tried to imagine what restaurant Aaron would choose. Does he prefer a casual dinner? Would you be riding in his car while talking about your day to each other? Does he like the food you love? Would he wear a suit? Does he talk about his friends or work when on a date? Would he tell Jack about your date? Does he end a date by dropping you home and kissing you goodnight? Or maybe he would invite himself in and stay with you for the night?  

As the minute passes, you answer all your questions by imagining different scenarios of how your date would go. So, with a smile, kiss on the cheek, and goodbye, you entered your home to do the same repetitive way you end your night. But as you take your clothes off, you realize that somehow, what was first to be an evening you looked forward to turned out to be a night you just wanted to end. Wearing only your underwear, you flopped your body in your bed and exhaled loudly. You could not stop thinking of him at all. And no denial method of yours could get you to stop imagining a date with him. So maybe it would be better to just be honest with your feelings? Maybe you could ask your friends for advice. 

Picking up the phone, ready to tell them everything, you got a message from the man you were trying to avoid by all means.

Aaron Hotchner.

Prepare? What does he mean by that? Does he-

About to reply to Aaron that he sent you the wrong message, you look to your right and realize that the window is wide open. The window where you first saw how hot your neighbor is is freaking open. Rushing to close it, you checked if he was still there. How long has he seen you walking around in your room in a towel? 

Did he see you twirling and posing earlier while holding your underwear? 

Did he see everything? 

Mouth opening and mind flooding with questions, you realize what the hell just happened. 

The hot neighbor you’ve been crushing on has seen you posing in front of the mirror while holding your underwear and checking yourself out.

He saw you.

In your underwear.

And if this isn’t the most embarrassing night of your life, maybe finding a new place is the right answer to all your maybe’s. 

Endnote | now that i have dropped this, i will now contemplate how the hell i’m going to continue this but anywhore tysm for reading this!

Masterlist link

[loser-writings]

Frieza SFW Alphabet

Notes: First post in 3 years lets go! Decided to go to my roots and hit the old SFW ABC prompt I used years ago

Synopsis: SFW Alphabet Prompt list with my take on Lord Frieza

Word count: ~2900

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Frieza is not one for affection, and you would be a fool if you had expected anything more than that honestly. Despite this, He has his moments that surprise you. His main form of affection is subtle and easily missed, especially if you let your fear and intimidation blind you.

He calls for you to join him. When he is alone and finds it too boring, or if his temper had seemingly flared just moments before, he will call for you. Most should be afraid if this is the case, but not for you, because at this point he just wants your presence to calm him or to just have a chat with. This is his form of affection and although it isn't much, it leaves him satisfied.

The more rare forms of affection appear when hes annoyed with you. If you fail a mission or fuck up, he would shoo the other staff away and claim he would be "Dealing with you" without watchers. Though you are not immune from the harsh words of the reptilian man, he is just as quick to slide something that sounds almost like a backhanded compliment. One moment he's scolding you because a mission went awry, but the next he says that he sent you on it because he expected more from you and to not let his minions drag you to their level.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

This is a slippery slope for most people, and you would likely have to remain on your toes just like every other crewmate. If you seemed to climb up the ranks or proved yourself useful, you might gain his attention. He might interact with you a little to see if you squirm under his gaze, or watch you if a fight breaks out among crewmates just to see how you handle yourself. If all goes right, then you might get the chance to be a little closer to the man.

If that chance happens, You would be one of the few to see just how paranoid that man is. Yes, he is a man who is unbelievably powerful with a strength only few could rival, and yet you would see where his true danger comes from. A paranoia that runs so deep that he is on edge all of the time despite attempting to keep a calm front. Though you'll never be able to mention that to him unless you wanted to be killed where you stood.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

It's an interesting predicament because Frieza cannot stand physical touch. He cringes, snarls at the thought, and just despises it. On the flip side, He enjoys any warmth that he can find because of his reptilian nature.

The only way he would cuddle up to you is if you were extremely warm, nobody was at risk of finding him in such a position, and he was a bit more drained than usual. He would have to initiate the touch, only being drawn in because of your heat, and he might curl up to take a nap. Any little sound would wake him though, and there is a mild risk he attacks you out of impulse but hey. For the moment it's nice.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

No. He will not stop until he is as powerful as he can possibly be. He will not cook because he views it as peasant work, and he would only clean if he is distracting himself by doing other things. He is not a domestic man.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Death probably. If you broke his trust or if he decided you were no longer useful to him, he would just get rid of you and end your life. That way he never has to worry about you betraying him or helping an enemy. It's the safest as well as an easy option in his mind.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Frieza is not one to look towards marriage as a sign of love or affection. If you wanted to be married just because, he would deny it. The only way you could possibly marry Frieza is if it was in the form of a business deal. A way to benefit him through giving him something through your hand in marriage.

His father on the other hand would be thrilled to hear that he would be married, but that is truly about it.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

If you break the mold and actually gain Friezas trust, you would actually be able to see that he can be gentle. The man is elegant and holds himself to a high standard. There is a beauty in knowing that your touch can demolish worlds, and yet his touch can be surprisingly delicate when he is calm.

Now when he is upset? His grip can break bones and he will tug you around if you aren't listening. His words can be cold and even cruel. He is not gentle when it comes to his speech as he has no reason to sugar coat anything.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He doesn't like hugs, but it's a similar deal with cuddling as well. He hates them and will not admit to liking them, until his face is buried in your body somewhere and hes clinging to you cause you're warm. The idea of being touched so casually makes his skin crawl but at the same time…he really likes the warmth.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

He likely wouldn't ever say it. The concept of love is something he has always been disgusting to him and has always been viewed by him as a useless weak spot. With that being said, the most I think he would say verbally is "I am fond of you" which is as close to love as that man will have.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Frieza is a possessive man who doesn't like when other people play or try to toy with things he deems as his. Because of this, he is prone to being extremely jealous. He initially takes it out on you, accusing you of being unfaithful or being promiscuous but after some time of you proving your loyalty to him, he would instead turn this attention to others and take his wrath out on them.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Friezas kisses come extremely few and far between. As a man who hates physical affection, the only time you'd find him kissing you is when his heat is right on the cusp of starting. During that time, he is more likely to engage in physical touch and affections to help relieve himself during that time. Typically he would end up smashing his lips against yours before whimpering against you all while his hands grip your armor tight. The kisses almost always start harsh and a bit sloppy only to melt into something a bit more gentle and needy.

Outside of those desire filled kisses, the only other time he would let you kiss him is when hes half asleep or cuddled up to you. If you're quick enough, you could plant a little peck to his lips and he wouldn't complain.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He doesn't do well with children. They don't listen, They destroy things, and they cry a lot. To him, Children are weak little annoying fleshbags of life that serve no purpose other than to annoy him.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

On the rare mornings where you wake up alongside him, you'll find him curled up on your chest since he craves your body heat. You'll have a hard time leaving since the reptilian man would grumble a demand that you stay for a moment since your warmth made him comfortable. After a bit of time, Frieza would wake up on his own and sit up, clearly not amused by having to be awake. That is how you discover that Frieza is not a morning person.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Nights with Frieza typically are calm. He may call you to his chambers to discuss the day with you or talk about what the next day may hold, but after a while there is a chance that he would tell you to lock the door and stay for the night since he feels calmer in your presence. He might have tea made for you both so you can just relax and unwind. Rarely, itll result in Frieza cuddling into your body for warmth and falling asleep, but most nights you would both bid farewell once tea is done to rest on your own.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Frieza is a man who only lets people know what they need to about himself. He lets his reputation do the majority of the speaking for him so when it comes to genuine discoveries about him, he is slow and cautious. It would take lots of time and trust for him to reveal how he truly feels about certain things or to know him past the surface level.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

The man has some patience but it can be run thin quickly. He hates waiting for things when he wants it, and will make demands or be prone to having one of his meltdowns where people or things can be destroyed. Though his mood heavily determines this.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Surprisingly, Frieza remembers a lot. The man listens to everything intently and would remember the little things, though he would brush it off by saying it's because he hates when people repeat themselves since it wastes his time. But the man would listen and be aware of what you said at all times.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Though Frieza would never admit it out loud, I do think he would enjoy the very rare moments where he is cuddled into your arms just enjoying your warmth as he takes a nap. It's an oddly peaceful moment for him where he feels protected and doesn't have to be paranoid that somebody is trying to overthrow him or trying to kill him.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He would protect you in ways that would be subtle. He would break up fights if you were involved and were being ganged up on, he would punish those who try to slander you, and he would go out of his way to ensure your safety on his ship. That being said, he also will not interfere if it becomes too commonplace or if its a minor skirmish.

As for larger battles, he would protect you if he didn't feel threatened personally. He would have to view you as an asset at this point and losing you to some goons would set him back. In the end though, he values his own life above all else so don't rely on him to sacrifice himself for you.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Dates are something that he would not admit would happen, but there would be little moments where he would request your presence. He might pull you aside to share a meal as you both discuss things happening on the ship, or the next planet up for trade. He may request you join him as he goes to explore a new island because he trusts that you can hold your own alongside him if anything goes wrong, or that you would protect him if he doesn't want to get his hands dirty. They wouldn't exactly be high effort, but the fact he requested for you would be a lot for Frieza.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He is very paranoid and can be accusatory. If he notices the smallest thing is off, he will get paranoid. At first, his questions seem like they're coming from a place of curiosity as he calmly asks you why something has happened, or about the new rumor he heard on the ship. If he thinks that you are lying or are hiding something, You can prepare for him to attempt to intimidate you, but after a while of knowing him though, you realize he is doing this as a way to protect himself.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He is EXTREMELY vain. He takes extreme care of himself and values his appearance greatly, especially in his final "true" form since it is something few have seen. He goes out of his way to ensure that he looks both intimidating as well as beautiful.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Frieza has seen so many come and go in his life so I don't believe he would feel incomplete if you were gone or had died, but I do think every now and then he would think of you and sigh a little since you did make his life a little easier when you were there. It would be small and a rare thing to have happen, but he would miss you for a moment before going back to whatever he was doing.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Frieza suffers from PTSD because of the Legend of the Super Saiyan becoming true in front of him, which he knew deep down meant his inevitable downfall. This lessens as time goes on, but after his death at the hands of Goku, he could be triggered and have a PTSD episode. This usually leaves him shaking, wide eyed, and struggling to remain composed. he would be more prone to attacking impulsively in an attempt to just destroy whatever is threatening him at that moment.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He doesn't handle secrets well as he is too paranoid for his own good. If he believes you are being secretive or sly, he might approach it one of two ways. He will rather approach you and be upfront, asking you if you are hiding anything and if there is a reason why your behavior has been off, which is his way of giving you the opportunity to be truthful with him if you are misbehaving. Or, he will send spies to subtly watch and report back to him after your every move which may eventually lead to an explosive downfall on your end.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Frieza sleeps on his stomach. His tail might sway a little in his sleep or wrap around something, but he always has to rest on his stomach. He also tends to find really warm areas to sleep in, so don't expect to be in long clothes anytime soon if you are resting with him.

[absolutebl]

Hi! apologies if you've answered this before, but can you recommend some bls that deal with homophobia, be it internalised or external? or more generally, bls that are not set in the bl bubble where gayness is 100% accepted?

Thank you very much <3

Ooo, sure thing!

BL's Not Set in The Bubble

BLs that deal with homophobia (internal or external) and rough coming out sequences

Began Beginning from Myanmar is all about this. It's not a BL I would necessarily recommend but it is interesting for many reasons. Both leads are dealing with massive internalize homophobia, among other issues.

Similarly: Like in the Movies and Tie the Not from the Philippines.

And Goodbye Mother and Nation's Brother from Vietnam.

From Thailand

To Sir, With Love - witnessing his family's massive homophobia that results in major tragedy as a child is what drives our main character's whole personality and self hatred. Massive trigger warning.

Until We Meet Again - the pair in the past, of course, it's the driving trauma of the relationship reincarnated. Massive trigger warning.

I Feel You Linger In the Air - fear of being caught is a through line in this drama.

More modern set stuff:

City of Stars deals with having to leave the closet as a super star. So does Close Friend Season 2 a little. The OhmFluke pair also deals with coming out to parents. Love Stage!! (Thailands version) contains one couple that chooses to remain closeted for the good of a career and another that risks it.

Moonlight Chicken - mostly about self hatred and difficulty in being out, to the point where his young nephew challenges him on it and provides a foil.

Also, ya know, TharnType and Why R U. Both have self hated and challenging coming outs because of trauma and daddy issues.

Dark Blue Kiss - Kao is terrified of being outed and it's used to blackmail him.

Similarly although he is out of Ae, Pete is being abused and blackmailed because he is gay in Love By Chance. Also Ae doesn't manage to come out... yet.

I Told Sunset About You - of course.

My Gear and Your Gown final episodes contain homophobic (or are they?) parents.

Second Chance heavily implies that there is something going on with Paper's inability to accept Fah.

Similarly Gene accepting Sib in Lovely Writer.

I'm pretty sure there's a ton of homophobia at the back end of My Tee, but honestly it's been years sicne I watched that mess.

Charming little pulp 21 Day Theory deals with quite a bti of this, but our main character has a lovely gay uncle to guide the way.

"Punch the homophobe" my favorite trope of all time, happens in Oxygen. But otherwise they neatly circumvent the patriarchs objection by defacto adopting a child to inherit.

TonhonChonlatee is all about one characters inability to acept his own queerness as encouraged by his homophobic family and various other evil characters.

My Only 12% actively tackles and calls out cultural homophobia and damaging misrepresentations.

"Why does everyone think that both of them are strange? If it's not wrong, why does everyone hurt?"

The show he's talking about is Thailand's first proto-BL, love of Siam and it is about an inability to come out.

From Japan

Life: Love on the Line - it's parental disgust and personal self hatred and paranoia that breaks them up (they get back together but he as to get over it)

Similarly His - is a kind of reunion romance after self-homophobia drove one half of the pair to marry someone else.

Actually the original series with the same characters, His the series, also deals with self acceptance around gayness, and it's subtle (Japan) but it's pretty clear one of them was kicked out of/ or left his previous school because he got outed. (Light on Me references a similar situation, but it's ultra subtle.)

If It's With You also kinda falls into this category. Not sure these can be called "dealing with" it tho, more side stepping and alluding to it.

Tokyo in April is - yeah it's kinda the whole thing from one half of this pair

What Did You Eat Yesterday also has a coming out to the parents thread throughout, and a coming out at work thing, but it's not really the point of the show.

From Korea

Most Korean BL are gonna be out. The specialize in the bubble. Although a case could be made for Love For Love's Sake and Love Class. And, see comment, Jazz for Two.

One noted exception is Just Friends which is a short piece about coming out to mom while on leave from the military. This is one of Korea's earliest BL pieces and not strictly BL, but it's fascinating in that neither theme (military nor coming out) would reall be reused again.

From Taiwan

My Tooth Your Love - has a kinda different take and we aren't sure, as viewers whether it's because he's gay or because he's not doing what the Patriarch wishes. But trigger warning for [physical abuse.

DNA Says Love You deals with this and other forms of queerphobia during the later half. Slow start but I do love this show.

Faded is a propaganda piece (pro marriage equality) which is all about coming out to a parent.

In H4CTY Xing Si (of the side couple) is having a hard time coming out but that's complied by the fact that he's fucking his stepbrother, it's a mess, bit I enjoy them - v problematic couple tho.

Papa & Daddy actually has a coming out sequence (GASP!) where the parents don't take it well as does Love is Science? (sides) - but the later is mostly because disaster bi is also baby daddy.

Red Balloon, of course, and it's sibling movie Your Name Engraved Herein are kinda all about self loathing and suffering because of gayness and lack of acceptance.

Unknown is certainly tackling some of this.

In which I talk about some of my favorite coming out sequences:

He's Coming to Me has my favorite series of coming out sequences to both friends and mother.

A few more that I really don't like (Promise) and probably Together With Me should be here, but I willfully can't remember them.

(source)

[anarchy-and-piglins]

More DSMP Techno thoughts.

Technoblade is literally one of the most generous people on the server. Like, in fic, Niki is always the one most characterized as generous (which is still accurate), but Technoblade is GENUINELY the most generous. From Netherite Armor, to helping Connor even though he had no reason to. To going to see Dream, even knowing it was a trap because he needed to make sure he wasn't dead. His whole rational behind his Anarchism is that People over Government. Helping others until they can stand on their own. Literally the most generous on the server.

Techno's generosity is such an endearing trait of his not to mention very important in analysing him as a character since it actually ties into a lot of other aspects about him I really adore.

Firstly, there's his planning and how he never wants to be caught off guard (sometimes to the point of paranoia). Technoblade is a great fighter and some of that is his impressive raw skill - as demonstrated when fighting Quackity in the tunnel post failed execution with low gear - but he's also an amazing tactician and strategist and he knows coming prepared is half the battle (as Sun Tzu's teachings also invoke). cc!Techno found this important enough to highlight when he went over dsmp lore, how he hated it when people boiled down c!Techno to being a good fighter because he's just 'that cracked' and not because he spends so much time and effort on preparation. Techno gives very freely to his allies during Pogtopia and to those he considers on his side, because it's the smart thing to do. Being generous there is simply clever battle tactics.

Then later on we see his generosity become extremely relevant as Techno digs more into the theoretics of anarchism and how to effectively spread it on the server (cc!Techno did the research and by extension c!Techno shows the growth and changing perspective). Mutual aid is one of the main pillars of most anarchistic beliefs, with the idea that goods should be shared among people so everybody can be self-sufficient and there's no dependency on government. This also means no hoarding of resources and giving without expecting anything in return. We see this come to fruition in the Arctic commune and among the syndicate too, where people definitely own things but there's little care for going into other people's chests and taking stuff when needed. Sometimes even without asking (though often with asking because it's the polite thing to do). Techno does not seem to view his own actions as generosity but rather as self-evident.

Lastly, there's of course the fact that Gift Giving very much seems to be Techno's main love language. He clearly values gifts he gets from others, including those that have no practicality or 'worth' (ie the blue from Ghostbur he refuses to throw away). Getting the ax from Ranboo was one of the more significant shows of care and consideration anybody on the dsmp had ever given Techno and he was clearly touched by it, plus it's a turning point in their relationship. And he's prone to giving his loved ones gifts too. Tying in with the first point and with the fact that Techno is very protective of his friends, a lot of his gifts do serve a very practical use of being the kind of things that will keep them safe (armor, weapons, supplies,...). I think that's very telling for who Techno is as a person.

A last thing I want to touch on is that Techno's generosity is nicely contrasted with his disdain for people taking advantage of him (falls in the category of betrayal and 'using him' that Techno is particularly wary of). When Tommy took his gapples without asking repeatedly even while Techno told him to stop, Techno was clearly very annoyed. It was not the taking itself that bothered him as much, but the fact that Tommy refused to respect a clear boundary.

Funnily enough, he also got annoyed that one time somebody yoinked his foxes, though he was not annoyed somebody took them or even that they took them without asking.... he was annoyed because the person that took his foxes took the ones he could use to breed more. He even remarked that if they had yoinked a baby and an adult - leaving Techno with two breedable adults himself - he would not have cared. He specifically got upset because they took the foxes from him in a way that created a scarcity of resources. This is also very mutual aid/anarchy aligned and that amuses me.

[cindylouwhooo]

Chapter five

Gigi’s POV

Loud, loud, loud music plays over the speakers and the floor underneath us vibrates with the power of the base and the force of people jumping up and down.

I would be dancing too, had I not chosen to wear my Louboutin heels. But, alas, fashion overtakes dancing.

Francisca is hung on Pierre’s shoulder, seemingly tipsy and in the mood for PDA, and I try to ignore the intense stare coming from the other side of the club.

Monaco has its perks when you’re rich and have a crush.

Kika mentioned he’d be here, though after I’d already sent him the invite—you know, to make him feel better.

The lack of a response should have gotten me out of that silly, little infatuation I’d grown over the McLaren driver, yet the excitement of the imminent game of cat and mouse strikes over my body like lightning. And his attention hasn’t been on anyone else but me, all night long. He had the advantage of arriving later than me, forcing me into a routine of checking the entrance every other second and sweeping the club with me eyes; trying to find him.

But the moment he stepped foot in the building…my eyes didn’t get remotely close to his.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t choose this dress specifically to get him to notice me. It is my lucky dress, and it seems like it’s done the job once again.

“Gi, do you want another drink?” Pierre asks and I nod with a smile on my face.

“It’s so crowded tonight.” Kika complains, but her eyes shine in mischief the next second. “Maybe it’s time for you to go get some.”

I bark the most unflattering, loud laugh in Kika’s face, forgetting for a moment that I’m supposed to seem sultry and mysterious in an interesting way. “Get some? Sorry, but I’m not about to get some with the people who come here.”

“Girl, we’re here.”

I roll my eyes. “We’re here because Pierre dragged us here. Everyone else is here because they want to get with the drivers who were supposed to be here—because it’s the Monaco Grand Prix! they have to go out! But in reality, they’re sweating ass in their hotel room, knowing they have three days of driving in the narrowest track of the year.”

Kika laughs at my paranoia, “Please, as if you wouldn’t get with a driver.”

“No, I would. But that’s cause I’m awesome and everyone else sucks.”

Thankfully, the music is so loud that no one else hears our conversation unless everybody on the internet would know that Gigi Santos is an overbearing, dick-headed asshole who thinks too much of herself.

Honestly, this might be the time I’ve felt the least of myself.

But fake it until you make it right?

Pierre comes with our drinks a while later and Francisca and I chug the whole glass in one go, cheering like college girls before running off away from the tables to dance.

Like Kika said, the place is crowded as fuck, but we still slither among the bodies enough to find an empty spot to dance with comfort—as much of it we can find.

The back of my heels cut my skin and my toes are squeezed into each other, inviting pain to take over my feet and up my legs, but I wrap my arms around Kika’s neck and dance like I’m in my pyjamas.

The lights go low as Lights Down Low starts to sound off the speakers in a slowed, reverberated version of the original. We move to the rythm of it, the energy of the club shifting in an instant and in a sudden turn of my body away from my friend—I find a l’air of honey brown eyes staring right at me.

Locked.

Darkened.

Hungry.

A shot of lightning zaps through me as I stare back, a smile forming on my face. I keep dancing on Kika as I lick my lips and wink at Lando, whose jaw clicks. His fingers wrap around the glass of his drink and he raises it to his mouth, taking a sip without disconnecting our stare.

Once he’s put the glass back down to the table, he stalks towards me and my face heats up in the immediate reaction of his.

He gently pushes through the crowd, teasingly slow pace to reach me. My heart is thumping at the base of my exposed neck and I’ve nearly stopped dancing—my body to concentrated on waiting for him.

Then Lando is so close I can feel his breath hit my lips; exactly where his eyes are focused. His smile is drawn in mischief and I no longer feel Kika behind me. I actually no longer feel anyone, anywhere.

It’s just him and I.

“Hi.” My voice crumbles with the intensity of the feelings weighing me down.

What the fuck is going on with me?

It’s instant, heavy lust dropping down on me with just one look of his.

And when the tips of his finger trace the shape of my face, then the curves of my lips and down to my neck…then I’m fighting to keep myself out of the fire Lando Norris lit within me.

His hand is now covering the back of my head, and slowly, he brings me closer to him. Electricity lingers where his touch is and our chests bump with each heavy breath we take. And when I can barely taste the smoothness of his lips, Lando stops, and looks at me.

He just looks at me.

My ears are ringing and I can’t tell which song is on. “Hey.” He whispers against my mouth, but doesn’t kiss me.

I frown, almost pour and he softly laughs at my obvious frustration. He moves his head left and right, just so his lips heavenly trace my own. “Kiss me.” He whispers.

And I do.

And it’s all lips and teeth and his other hand cups my jaw, bringing me impossibly closer and my fingers curl into his buttoned shirt and I pull him closer because I need him, I need him to keep that fire he lit up going and his tongue opens my mouth and now the kiss is deeper and needier and I’m so close to jumping on him and and and and and

And I think I’ve just lost my mind.

I place my palms on his chest and his groan vibrates on my lips as I feel the frantic beat of his heart connect with mine and beat in sync. Just by a touch. Just by a kiss.

My world is spinning when we part and once I open my eyes and clash with his, I know we have the same thought.

“You have any things?” He says against my ear. I shiver and make no effort to hide it.

“Just my phone.” I nod where my table is when his head is back to facing me and he kisses my temple before walking off to where I showed him. Moment later, he’s back handing me my phone and placing his hand on the small of my back, gently pushing me towards the exit.

The chilly air hits my heated face and I wince. His hand leaves my back and grabs my hand, lacing our fingers together as he leads me to the hotel—just a few steps away. Or maybe it’s miles away, I wouldn’t know. Because he’s honking my hand and graving the skin of it with his thumb and smiling at me and…and it’s, just—it’s hard to focus on anything else than him.

We reach the hotel, and before we get on the elevator he stops.

“The room is a mess. Give me five minutes?” His voice is dripping with uncertainty and his eyes search my face for signs of disappointment. I bite my lip and nod; gaining one of the biggest smiles in return. “Do you want me to come get you when I’m done?”

“No, there’s no need. Just give me the number of the room. If that’s okay with you.”

He smiles again. Ah, shit. “Room 509B. Five minutes.” He kisses my lips in a haste and I try not to deepen it.

Five minutes seem to be five hours and by the time my knuckles knock on the door with the number 509B, my heart is beating out of my chest and the heat has traveled all over me.

The door opens, and

Well, that’s weird.

I stare, not really knowing what to do.

I red-haired woman stands with her underwear on the other side of the door, lipstick smudged and brows raised. But the weird part is not her. The weird part is Lando standing right behind her, three buttons on the top of his shirt that I last left intact, open and stained red from—what seems to be—lipstick.

“Can I help you?”

“Uh,” I dare not to look at the man behind her. I give her a smile, take a step back and speak. “No, sorry. I must’ve gotten the wrong message.”

I turn around and leave before anything else can happen.

Lando’s POV

Fuck.

[a-s-levynn]

I'm terrified to post this. So watch me sprinting away into the distance after dropping this.

Open love letter to -in extension to the wider ST community on tumblr, but especially- to the fellowship of Sleep because without you, life would be much more lonely

My Friends,

It was today when it finally dawned on me that you gave me the most undescribably precious gift. Many of you probably going to relate to this to some degree because i am not unique in any sense but i had to get this out. And by just the sheer lenght probably not many of you will read it. But i still need to put this out there, even if i'm being obnoxious and probably sound overdramatic and maybe even cringy.

I struggle with a lot of things. Anxiety, self doubt, depression, paranoia, self destructive tendencies, self isolation and the list goes on to even darker places. All in all i have a suboptimal mental state to put it lightly. I feel inadequate in many ways. Especially with connecting to people.

To this day, i struggle every day, seeing my friends, you, talk on a daily basis, have inside jokes and wonderful conversations and whatnot and either i like it or not, thoughts intrude: "am i doing enough? Am i a good enough of a friend? Do i really have a place among these wonderful bright souls? Am i intruding? Am i inserting myself into spaces i do not have any right to be? Am i forcing myself into your circles?"

For the longest time, on most days the conclusion was no. I do not belong. You were just being nice to the pathetic little creature in the corner because by nature you are simply kind. But as the weeks went by i learned that you are also awkward people with your own stuggles and hardships which are far harder and more painful than mine. That you are choosing to be kind every day, in spite of what life threw at you. Because you know.

I started to see you also crave a particular type of companionship and you reach out with the same trembling hands, hoping that someone sees it and grabs it. That someone finally says: you are not alone. I am here. For you. With you.

And you did. You've seen a bunch of hands fumbling in the dark, desperate to hold onto something and went: yeah.. i think i'll grab all of them. Because we are coming from the same darkness. And if i can help pull you into the light than you might have the strenght to do the same for me, so we can all sit in the warmth of the fire. The fire we built together. A fire that is growing ever brighter and allowes us to see even more hands on the edges to be pulled and invited into the circle.

So we have. For a while sitting almost silently, showing the things we found along the way. Tentatively feeling out the boundries. Than we broke the silence. You even started to call me your friend at some point. I already considered you mine because i'm painfully lonely and just the gesture, that you included me among the hands you grabbed was enough for me to see you mine. But all in all, for some unknowable reason, we became friends.

The weeks turned into months and i felt a bit more comfortable to approach you on my own clumsy and awkward ways. Many of you know by now that Tiny Token was born because i was too afraid to send a happy birthday ask to someone. I still apologize regularly just for adding thoughts to posts even if i only do it in tags. I am afraid. Of so many thing.

We still don't talk daily. Yet we still call each other friend. We have actual plans now. I still stuggle with the though of not being enough. There are still days when i feel you just feeling pity towards me.

But lately there is an other thought there. Which makes me feel bad for thinking that way. A thought that's never been there before. "If i was truly bothersome or annoying or any way too unpleasent, you could simply walk away. This is the internet after all. You could just block me. You have the option to walk away but you are time and time again choosing not to. No matter how many days pass by with us not talking, you are there. I can count on you. I'm still hesitant to reach out and dump my superficial adversities on you. But i also see you keeping the door ajar, leaving the option there to be approached if anyone needs it. So it would be not just a disservice but an outright insult to you if i'd think you are just acting out of pity. But if you like me than.. there has to be something about me to actually to be worth knowing?"

And that is doing something that ten years worth of failed therapy could not. You made me question my self doubt. It is still there and will be for the rest of my life. But now there is a steady counter balance i never had this solidly in my life ever before.

I'm still afraid to ask even if anyone would be up for a talk, let alone a call because i have little to offer in conversations. I don't talk much by default and that is not a good base for conversations. I'm still terrified of overstaying my welcome. But i also know now that you probably wouldn't mind from time to time. Because you understand. Maybe one day i will get there. I don't know when but there is a hope i never truly had before.

This is something i will never be able to repay you. Thank you for understanding that we all have different levels of anxiety and fear and not holding it against one and other. I'm writing this to you with immens love and eternal gratitude i cannot truly express in any way that does it justice: Thank you for showing me hope. Thank you for being the way you are.

You gave me the biggest gift there is to give.

You gave me your friendship.

I love you.

Yours in friendship,

Levynn

[symphonyofsilence]

It's so strange that Fëanor's suspicion of how Fingolfin is trying to usurp him is usually dismissed as his paranoia and Melkor's baseless brainwashing when literally the first thing that happens after Finwë's death is that most of the Noldor decide to follow Fingolfin & name him as king, & Finarfin becomes the king of the Noldor in Valinor, & Fëanor is left with the smallest host among the brothers, to the point that Fëanor & Maedhros will later get outnumbered by Melkor and suffer defeats and Maedhros will have to abdicate in favor of Fingolfin to keep the Noldor united. (And at that point a lot of Fingolfin's followers had died on the ice. But they're still more than the Fëanorians.)

and even before Finwë's death, Fingolfin was ruling in his place in Tirion while Finwë & Fëanor were in exile. You might say that it's because of Fëanor's own actions, and yes, it was. But even though Fëanor's response was extreme, Fingofin was indeed there before Fëanor, talking behind his back to Finwë, & specifically telling Finwë that 'If thou dost not now repent of it, two sons at least thou hast to honour thy words.'

So it doesn't really seem like Fingolfin was just sharing his concern with Finwë & what happened after Fëanor's exile to Formenos & Finwë's death was just a self-fulfilling prophecy that Fëanor caused by his own action while Fingolfin had no interest in usurping him. And I don't think Fingolfon added Finwe before his name in pursuance of his claim to be King of the Noldor after his father's death was just in response to being abandoned on the ice by Fëanor, though I think it did play a great part in his decision to so openly claim Fëanor's place.

I think making Fingolfin less ambitious & without any political game of his own is actually a disservice to his character. He's a more complex character than he's usually given credit for. As I explained here, I think becoming a king was his way of inwardly seeking validation and filling the void that was left in him since childhood.

And we know that at least Maedhros was politically smart & more of a peacemaker. So maybe all of Fëanor's sons weren't always just following him like ducklings everywhere, without thinking of their own, or being completely brainwashed. Maybe something was going on against their father that they noticed, too. We know that "Long before, in the bliss of Valinor, before Melkor was unchained, or lies came between them, Fingon had been close in friendship with Maedhros". So Maedhros & Fingon broke up of their own accord. And they were very close. How can someone lie to you about your best friend, who you spend a lot of time with & leave little thing unsaid to each other, without any basis, and you believe it and even break up with them if you hadn't seen anything that even slightly ruffled your feathers & gave validation to the rumors?

We know that Nerdanel restrained Fëanor "when the fire of his heart burned too hot" but maybe it was less "your brother is not plotting against you" and more "pointing a sword at him in front of everyone in the parliament is not the way to go about it. Start your own political campaign".

And Indis naming Finarfin "Ingoldo" which means "THE Noldo" might have been in response to most of the Noldor not liking that their queen was a Vanya, and the fact that Finarfin was born blond, a very Vanya look, and Indis choosing to pronounce "th" as "s" despite already pronouncing it as "th" as a Vanya, while Fëanor insists that that was the correct pronunciation because Míriel insisted it is, might have again been Indis just trying to fit in among the Noldor, but Indis named Fingolfin "Arakano" which means "High Chieftain". And that trying to blend in with the Noldor obviously had a political side to it.

Could it be that all of these were just Indis trying to innocently make herself at home? And was she really a perfect mom to Fëanor who kept rejecting her affection?

I mean I don't think that she was downright an evil stepmother. I think she was nice to Fëanor, she really pitied him for being the only motherless child ever, and at such a young age, & did always try to win his favor, but that didn't stop her from seeking her own agenda for her sons.

Maybe we tend to make Indis more passive than she canonically was. Fëanor did notice his father showing Vanyarin behavior the more she was with Indis. & While I believe Finwë was a codependent and impressionable person, Indis might have also been actively influencing him. Or at least welcomed the changes in Finwë's behavior.

It might all be indeed innocent, but seeking to marry someone else's husband for the first time in history- because death doesn't do elves apart and Finwë & Míriel were still married when Finwë & Indis decided to marry- & by that condemning Míriel to stay dead forever because Indis has taken her place in her marriage while getting reincarnated is every elf's right doesn't sound to me like someone who is not willing to make moral compromises.

And It's very likely that after Finwë took Fëanor's side & went to exile with him when Fëanor raised his sword to Indis' son & Indis chose to stay in Tirion, things were broken between Indis & Finwë beyond repair. So Finwë choosing to stay in Mandos in Míriel's place forever didn't really surprise Indis. And even though it hurt very much, it didn't hurt as it once might have. After being proven that she would always be second to Míriel again & again, and for good the last time, it was clear to her that it would be Finwë's choice.

& Deep inside she thought that maybe she deserved it. And so did Finwë.

It hurt to be replaced.

And likewise, Fëanor vs Fingolfin incident might have also been the point of no return for Indis & Fëanor.

I headcanon that at Manwë's party to reconcile Fingolfin & Fëanor, it was the first time that Indis didn't smile at Fëanor, but looked coldly at him.

Finarfin has always seemed to me like someone who generally disliked this whole drama, and was not interested in ruling or politics and anything & was just there for Fingolfin's spiritual support. He probably spent most of his time with the Teleri, and like his brothers, he married young (it's not just a headcanon. He did marry young, according to NoME. I'll explain it in another post.) And mostly lived away from the drama. (when there's drama at home, all you gotta do is walk away-ay-ay)

But Fingolfin definitely had his ambition, and Indis might have had, too.

Another thing that Fëanor gets accused of Paranoia for, is that the Valar want his Silmarils.

...afer the Valar explicitly ask him for his Silmarils. And Tulkas claims that Fëanor doesn't even own them, & they're Yavanna's.

And later when one Silmaril is freed from Melkor, the only sailor that they allow inside Aman is Earendil who has the Silmaril. And then it's given to him to be used as almost the same way they wanted to use it when they asked Fëanor for them. This happens while Nerdanel, who would be Fëanor's heir & thus the rightful owner of that Silmaril is currently in Aman. And even if she doesn't want it, Findis, Finarfin & Finrod are there, too. Just because the Valar want everyone to enjoy the Silmarils' lights doesn't mean that they can forcefully take them away from their owners.

And later, the sons of Fëanor are again denied of their birthrights. Even if they couldn't touch them-which wasn't Eonwe's problem- Celebrimbor was still there.

So yeah, the Valar did want the Silmarils.

[liliesdiary]

hi love! could I please request a yan/dark!Aaron x reader where they’re best friends but after Eric and some other Alexandrians die, he becomes obsessive and protective, keeping reader locked in his home & forcing her to basically become a mother to Gracie? feel free to change anything you’d like. thank you so much!! 💕

Everything is going to be okay

Everything is going to be okay: Dark!Aaron/Yan!Aaron x You

Word Count: 1,400

Warnings: Stockholm syndrome, forced to be Gracie's caretaker/mom (Platonic) Yandere Aaron.

Note: sorry this took so long to write, this kind of turned more soft towards the end but I hope you like it , thank you for your request and patience <3

You and Aaron have been best friends since the start of the apocalypse, you were a survivor of the outbreak and sought shelter near Alexandria.

Aaron found you alone and in despair, and comforted you through your losses. Ever since then you and Aaron have been best friends, you hung out with him and Eric every day, but In the aftermath of the war with Negan, Alexandria was left reeling from the loss of so many loved ones. Among them was Eric, who had been shot and killed in the conflict. The tragedy hit Aaron hard, leaving him struggling to cope with his grief.

As time passed, Aaron found himself becoming increasingly possessive and paranoid about you. He couldn't bear the thought of losing anyone else, especially not you. One day, without warning, he locked you inside his house, claiming that you needed a break from the stresses of life for your mental and physical health.

You protested but it was no use. Aaron was never violent yet forced you to become his new child’s caretaker and you didn't know how to feel about it. He never let you out of the house unless he was there with you. He never let anyone else watch Gracie and felt paranoid when he was away from her, afraid of losing his little girl.

The days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months. You spent most of your time taking care of Gracie, feeding her, changing her diapers, and doing whatever else was necessary to keep his little girl healthy and happy. You were trapped in a world that had long since fallen apart, but you and Gracie clung to each other for comfort and survival.

As the days went on, Aaron's obsession with keeping you safe grew stronger. He would check on you constantly, making sure you were okay and hadn't tried to escape. He always made sure he was home on time for dinner to make sure you and Gracie were okay. You quickly became the mother role for his child and you fell in love with Gracie.

You understood his paranoia but the kind man you once knew had turned dark and cold. You often tried comforting him when he needed it, you reassured him that everything was going to be okay yet his thoughts couldn't stop haunting him. Eric’s death replayed in his mind every day and Aaron started hallucinating him. His hallucinations pushed him to exhaustion.

One late night you had just finished putting Gracie to bed. Aaron never came home for spaghetti, his favorite, and it started to worry you.

Ever since the war ended, Aaron had been working on the bridge. He was always on time and never liked staying out late when you and Gracie were home, but this time he was late. As hours passed by, your anxiety grew worse. The silence of the house amplified every creak of the floorboards and rustle of leaves outside.

You look around the house wondering if you should leave and ask around for him but then you hear a knock on your door that startles you. You rush to open the door expecting to see Aaron but instead it was Jesus with a worried expression on his face which made your heart drop.

“Is everything okay? Where's Aaron?” You ask with tears forming already.

“Aaron is okay but I have bad news. Aaron was injured while gathering the logs for the bridge and a log fell on his arm. The rot was starting to set it so Enid had to cut it off. He tried to leave his bed to rush over here but he collapsed. He's okay I swear, you can come with me in the morning to visit him. I can ask someone to take care of Gracie tomorrow.” Jesus reassures you with his crystal eyes.

You can't help but feel panicked, Aaron has always protected you and now he's hurt and you can't help but feel bad. You take a deep breath and gulp, “Thank you, Jesus. I'll try to get some rest and get ready for tomorrow.”

You shut the door and head back to your room, holding in your tears. It's okay. Just breathe. He's okay. You try to comfort yourself as you sleep on the ground next to Gracie’s crib. You calmed yourself as you watched her sleep gracefully, her breaths comforting you.

Hours pass by and the sun rises, you were feeding Gracie as a nice woman came in to babysit her. Aaron never trusted anyone else to babysit Gracie, you knew he was going to hate this but he needed you right now. You prepared the woman to watch Gracie as you packed your bags.

On your way to the camp where Aaron was staying, it was silent. All you heard were the horses hooves on the pavement of the road and the trees whispering as you rode by. You couldn't help but have tears forming in your eyes, knowing that Aaron has lost a hand. As you were tearing up, you saw a broken car piece on the floor.

It reminded you of the one time you and Aaron walked in this same road, Aaron was obsessed with completing his goal to collect a license plate from every state. One time he had found one from Oklahoma. Aaron was happy and you were teasing him about it, laughing as Aaron slipped on a broken car piece and fell on his ass. The happy memories kept you hopeful and your tears went away, everything is going to be okay.

You finally arrive at the camp on your horse. The camp was quiet and somber, everyone knew about Aaron's accident. You dismount your horse and tie it up before walking towards the makeshift hospital tent.

"Hey," Rick greeted you warmly, his voice filled with genuine worry. "How's Gracie doing? Did Jesus take care of her?"

You nodded, wiping away a stray tear from your eye. "She's fine, thanks for asking. I came as soon as I could.”

“Glad you could make it here safely,” Rick says as he leads you to Aaron's bed, “He couldn't sleep all night, kept asking for you.”

You try not to cry as you see Aaron’s amputated arm wrapped in a bloody bandage. You kneel at his side and turn to thank Rick, “Thank you, Rick.”

He gives you a nod and walks away, talking to other people. You look back at Aaron, tears forming in your eyes. He was asleep yet you could tell he was in a lot of pain, he was as pale as a ghost.

You gently touch his hair, climbing your fingers through his curls and whisper, “Rest, I'm here. Everything is going to be okay..”

You gently press your lips against his sweaty forehead and sit by his side, falling asleep in your chair. He slowly starts to wake up, looking at you snoring in your chair. He smiles and holds your hand, gently caressing it.

You felt his touch and woke up, Aaron smiles at you, still clearly in pain but happy to see his best friend. “How are you feeling?”, you ask.

Aaron's smile softened as he looked at you, his eyes filled with gratitude and love. "I'm okay," he said, though his voice was strained from the pain medications. "Thank you for coming to visit me but you should have stayed home with Gracie, I don't trust anyone else to watch her."

You try to reassure him, “You don't have to worry about her, Aaron. She's going to be okay, you need to learn how to be okay with that. You need rest, okay?”

Aaron sighed, his gaze lingering on your face. "I know," he said softly. "I just... I don't want anything to happen to you two. I wouldn't know what to do with myself if something happened to you two."

"Don't worry about me," you reassured him. "I'll take care of Gracie while you recover. She loves you so much."

A flicker of sadness passed over Aaron's face, but it quickly vanished. "She really does," he said, smiling again. "Thanks for taking care of her."

You squeezed his hand gently. "Anything for you two," you said. "And don't you dare try to do too much too soon. You need rest and recovery time.”

You give him another kiss on the forehead, his gaze softens and he smiles. “Rest.. I'll be here.” You sit by his bedside as he falls asleep, you hum a sweet lullaby to soothe his pains as you look at his arm. You whisper to yourself, Everything is going to be okay..

[catchingdaydreams]

Wrong Summoning

Peter B Parker (demon) x reader

NSFW Warning

Imagine trying to summon an incubus but you don't have the correct material and summon a gluttony demon instead.

Don't worry he's very gluttonous for the taste of you!

( if it gets popular I'll do part two of just pure smut)

It was a cool summers night. The night was still young, many people were littered along one of the main streets, chasing fun and dancing to the music to various pubs and clubs alike. Rambunctious laughter could be heard echoing outside your apartment.

Your friends loved the nightlife, you though....not so much. No matter how much they try to plead and bribed you tonight it all fell short. You glance back at your window, seeing them hobble to a club across the street, you sighed. Partying wasn't your scene, tired it once and never again. Left a bad taste in your mouth. But you digress. A good book was better than being in a dark lit room, bumping against sweaty strangers.

Besides you had other plans today. You see the only good thing about a club compared to a book was that a book couldn't get you dicked down. Sure you have an entire shelf filled with nothing but erotica and your old reliable toys to keep your horny fill. However, it wasn't enough anymore. No matter how much you read, how much you fantasized, how hard you played with yourself, it only led with two outcomes.

1. You couldn't cum.

2. You didn't feel satisfied no matter how much you fucked yourself silly.

You weren't left with many choices either . You were too shy and meek to really be interested in a relationship. Even when it came to flings you felt awkward about it. Mostly cause you live in the heart of the city's party district and the last time you tried a one night stand with some flirtatious hunk it ended badly. You kept seeing him around to the point you started to freak out that he was stalking you. You really didn't want to be riddled with paranoia once more.

Your last option was stupid, but decided that this somehow was better than the rest.

You aligned a summoning circle with finishing touches. Brushing your timber wooden floors with blood and rosemary mix, you wrote the incarnation that was in the book beside you.

Oh yes you were reduce to this. Summoning an incubus. While you don't really believe in the supernatural, you thought why not. It's not like anything bad will happen. A lot of smut that you read, well not a good source of factual material, was maybe influencing your horny mind too much right now. And if nothing happens, well at least you had your own version of a wild night to tell your friends about , low key going insane and becoming a blood version of Picasso (yeah probably shouldn't tell them that...).

The book beside you, you found it at a little second hand bookstore. You were looking for a new mystery novel when you saw the old thing slip of the top shelf and landed right on your head before falling on the floor. Its pages directly landed on how to summon a lust demon. It was like fate. And you willingly accepted it.

The old book was hard to encrypt. Most of the summoning list was layered in vagueness and rhyming its ingredient and steps. But you think you got the gist of it. You may have substituted some items with things you could easily get your hands on at your local supermarket. You hope the demon wasn't picky that you used your espresso martinie scented candles instead of votive candles, among other things you used.

Your last key piece was lighting up the candles under moonlight. You light each one and read out the chant that was in your book. A slight breeze swept through your apartment despite having all your windows closed. It cause you to shiver on instinct. The flames of the candles flickerd but remained intact.

"Did it work?" You thought to yourself, skeptical at your handy work. "Maybe I said it wrong", You question yourself further. You had to use Google translate to understand how to pronounce the Latin words, maybe you should have used a more reliable translator?

"No didn't work, the incubus is suppose to come out of the summoning circle." You correct yourself, looking over the illustration of the old book once more before trying to summon it once more. And again. And again.

It wasn't working.

You slapped your face, muffling a desperate scream with your hand, you chucked the damn book at the summoning circle. Walking to your kitchen you grabbed a bottle of wine. Not even bothering with a glass you took a swig at it. You sigh glancing back at the contents of your fridge. You had a whole bag filled with pigs blood. 'Great what are you going to do with that!?'

"Your fucking stupid y/n!!! Believing that this was real. Get your damn head of the clouds, now I've gotta spend my Saturday night cleaning blood, chalk and other shit off my floor!" You slammed you fridge shut in anger. The light if the fridge disappeared, leaving you in complete darkness. That's odd, the candles gave off-

You looked over to your lounge room. You had to double take the situation. Your candles were completely out. Not even a wick of puffed out smoke filtered through the air. What was even weirder was that the moonlight no longer shined down onto your floors, despite no clouds blocking the moon. Your room was blanketed in darkness.

You gulped.

Oh it definitely worked.

You look a step into the room, inspecting your room closer.

"Hello?" Your voice was meek, practically a whisper. Yet you were only met by the unnatural coldness of the room. If it wasn't so dark you could probably see your breath. What you also noticed was that the outside music and laughter was pretty much drowned out in complete silence. Not a peep or a creek. Only your heart beat that thumbed through your ear drums.

Just then a ominous red glow came from the summing circle. You relied on instinct pretty much at this point, running behind the couch to hide. You were terrified but still curious, you peaked from the armrest.

The glow from the circle swirled forming ominous red smoke. The ground cracked open with a mighty shake, cries from the damned within bled into your room. A black claw came out first, reaching to the sky before landing itself on your floor, digging it's nails on the wood as it clawed towards itself. It was hard to see the full picture of this beast as the smoke covered most of its body but what was clear was his black obsidian-like ram horns that glistened despite no natural light. His eyes glowed deep crimson red as he stared into nothingness. His mouth opened, giving you a side view of his small but sharp incisors. He seemed lost in thought, like confused as to why he was here. That was that until he stopped and found you .He's eyes felt it bore into your soul, as of he was judging your sins.

You involuntarily gasped as you fully hid behind the couch now. Your skin was riddled with goosebumps, hair sticking on ends as you shake in place.

'Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope ,nope , fuck this shit' you stressed out, clearly having a internal struggle with yourself with the whole situation Infront of you. You regret being too horny that you summoned a fucking demon. And demons are real??? Oh God it's gonna kill you.

You anticipated for the worst.

But nothing happened.

You remained in the same place and so did the demon.

What you didn't expect was a throaty chuckle.

"Heh, sorry about the floor." The demon said with a hint of regret in his tone.

"And it's hard wood too. Damn really gone fooled this up already. Ah we could probably smooth out the scratch marks out. Maybe through a rug over it. If it can't be seen it's not there, yeah ? Yeah! That could work. Rugs bright out a room more-" He kept rambleing on to much of your confusion.

The demon looked about at the couch that you hid behind, taking notice that you haven't said anything or pretty much ignored his suggestions. He could sense he already stuffed up his introduction with you. So he tried again. Properly this time.

He coughed to clear his throat and began to speak once more. " Where are my manners." He clicked his fingers, re-lighting the candles around him, burning even brighter with his magic that it lit up the room, all still be a bit dimly.

"My name is Peter. How can I be of service to you Master" he says placing his hand over his chest as he kneel before you."

Peter could hear you shuffle behind , but still you didn't allow him to see your presence. He was even more confused, tilting his head to the side. He was so confident that you were the one that summoned him, he could feel the summoning pact from you. He looked around the small room . It was certainly a lot different from his last summons. More homely, warm even. He notices that everywhere he looked the walls there littered with books shelves stacked with both new and old books. 'So my master is a reader, huh?' He thought, thinking the likely reasons for his summons tonight.

"You have quite the collection of books don't ya?" He tries once more to start a conversation. " Gosh it's giving me cozy library in the middle of a country side vibes if I do say so myself. Bet you take pride in your collection, I can tell" he gleems a cheeky smile as he glaces some of the titles he hasn't seen before.

You really has no ideas what to say. One moment your terrified of him, then he's saying sorry and complimenting your books. That last part surprised you the most. Most people who you met would bring up the subject but then say nothing else. Your friends thought it was a boring hobby. Made jokes about being an old woman and all that.

You thanked the demon in a whisper.

"No problem!!" The demon chimed.

"Soooo am I able to see you, I mean I can pretty much do my job just right here perfectly fine but I wouldn't miiiiiiinnnnd , seeing my Master". He asked in a playful tone.

You debated over this, he looks scary but seems nice? Kinda awkward but nice. Removing yourself from your crappy hiding spot wouldnt put you in danger anyway. Regaining your thoughts You did make sure to salt the circle to prevent the demon moving outside of it. So even if he could try to harm you, he can't.

You slowly emerge and stand in front of the demon that you summoned. Now with the light of the candles and no fog you could get a better look at him properly. Along with the features you described before , he was tall, like bean pole tall. Certainly towered over your small frame.

He has the classic small black bat like wings on his back and an imps tail. His face featured that of a man in his mid 30s, a bit of scruff and distinct crooked nose. He was shirtless, but wore thin cotton robes. He looked very odd to be a incubus. Certainly you must have gotten the short end of the stick. He wasn't really your type.But you weren't complaining. He looked goofy. Major DILF vibes from him. Certainly was showing it through his dad bod. He was toned but not too much. Has a bit of chub with his gut that looked kinda cute hanging out-

Oh maybe he was your type. Wow okay then. You learn something new every day.

You felt too hot underneath his gaze, you hope that he couldn't see how bush was already forming. Your shyness was already creeping up on you once more as you looked away. The wine from before wasn't helping you.

But the demon kept staring at you. Finally, he broke the silence first.

"Huh?" Peter said out of disbelief, tilting his head the other side.

You looked back at him with confusion on your face. "What ?"

"Oh nothing, I just didn't know my master would look well like you." He says, gesturing his hands to you . This caused you to raise your brow. 'Did he notice your blushing or something. Was there something on your face ?' You thought, touching your cheek.

He took notice of your hand movement, quickly trying to resolve the situation once more

"Ah no I didn't mean it a bad way kid. It's just most of the time it's old men who summon me. Not that I'm saying I prefer that, it was a surprise, a nice one. No ,no you look lovely, oh gosh Peter stop messing this up again." He rambles on with apologies one after another.

It was a sight to see him jumble up with his words. He whole thing was so comical it gave yourself a chuckle.

He pause momentarily, looking back at you once more. His guilty face relaxed at your laughter. He signed out of relief.

A crooked smile was on his face as he relaxed a bit and started to speck without a speck of worry this time. "I'm really sorry can we start again?"

You nodded.

"My name is Peter!" He introduced himself, giving a small curtsy, chuckling at his actions. You matched his laughter. He beemed at your response, his wings flapping with glee as his tail wagged and hit your floor with each thump.

To you he looked like a golden retriever at this moment.

The tension in the room was no longer there. The coldness started to slowly dissipate, as a warmth grew between you two.

"It's nice to meet you" you say.

"Likewise~" he hummed, fiddling with his fingers he continued. "Soooo what gluttonous desires do you request of me?" He gets down to the point now.

Your face was stricken with confusion and he noticed. "gluttonous desires?". You repeat back his words.

"Yep that's what I was summoned for. I am a Glutton demon after all" he chimed, puffing his chest with pride.

You didn't really didn't know how to react. You were literally dumbfounded. Clearly you fucked up big time. You didn't respond to him for quite some time. He notices the stress riddled on your face.

"Master?" Peter called out to you. He grew concerned at your sudden change of expression.

He calls for you once more but you ignored him. You collapsed on the couch, placing your hands on your head you quietly sweard underneath your breath. You drag your hands on your face, hiding most of it from him.

He awaited for some sort of answer. And you gave it.

"I think I summoned the wrong demon" you state, not even bothering to look at him.

"You think you summoned the wrong demon". He repeats back dumbfounded.

Silence once again were between you two. Peter took upon himself to speak up.

"Ah okay not a problem, things like this happen" he says with a convincing voice. He flaps his hand in an 'no worries' movement.

"Really?" You ask, looking at him in shock and relief.

"Well no" He commented.

Fuck

" Well best no the beat around the bush, you got me curious now. What were you trying to summon then" he asks curiously, a bit too happy about all this.

You really didn't know if you even should say it. It was bloody embarrassing now. You were red as a beetroot and he certainly looks noticed that now. His eyes gleams at you with such delight. He took pleasure from your internal anguish.

"Well...you see...it's a funny story". You start to explain.

"Mmm, oh I love funny stories. Do tell ~" he says, plopping himself down on the floor, his hands cupped his face as his tail once more flickered back and forth.

"But maybe keep it to, 'long story short', it looks like my Master is turning red as hells fire itself!" He snorts at his own joke, wrinkling his face with a wicked smile as he slaps his knee.

You don't know how you could possibly go more red.

"I was ..."

You looked back at him but quickly looked down to the floor. You couldn't see his face right, hes being a right smug bastard.

"You were?" He trys to push for you to continue.

You sighed, shutting your eyes as you spoke next.

"I was trying to summon.....an incubus"

....

....

He snorts

And breaks in full laughter.

Peter looked absolutely enthralled by this whole ordeal. He would have never expected a little cutie like you would be summoning a demon of that caliber. He found you too shy and gentle for you wanting to experience raw an untamed lust. But he really shouldn't judge a character by the book. No, this whole meeting with you he found you blushing from ear to toe, first thinking it was out of embarrassment. Now he knows why. And now you piped his interests even more. A bit of him felt flattered that you even thought he was an incubus. His chest swelled with an unknown feeling. Not bad, and not good. It was a pleasant warmth. But he pushed that feeling away fast. He needs to focus on this little minx who summoned him. And oh boy, does he really have a lot to handle at the moment.

Peter wipes a tear from his eye as he tries to get a hold of himself. "Sorry sorry, heheh.. It's just..hahehe" he keeps laughing between.

"Okay okay. I'm fine now sorry. Tell me, you didn't substitute anything, beside the candles that smell heavily right now." He says, taking notice of the candles coffee scents.

"I used pigs blood. Didn't have sage nor Peony so used rosemary and hydrangeas instead", listed.You didn't even bother to look at him. You were too shamed of yourself.

"You're supposed to use your own blood. Creates a greater emotional connection between the incubus and the summoner. Pigs blood is the go to, to call a glutton demon. As for the other item, I have no clue how it affected the summoning but yeah. You botched it missy." He rants.

"I can see that" you sign. "So I'm really sorry but I don't really need your services, so you can just-" you point at the cracks of your floor boards " go back".

"Doesn't work like that kid" he mumbled.

"What!!!" You finally looked at him. "what do you mean, can't you go back?".

"Nope! I am here until a gluttonous desire has been filled. If you read that book correctly you should have known this already, tisk, tisk" He sings, clearly taking pleasure in your pain right now.

Peter slowly gets up from the floor, he stands in front of you as you were sitting, towering over you. He draws back a devilish smile, his fangs protrude out as his forked tongue slowly licks them. You sit in horror. The man before you, who joked and teased you looked down right sinful. You felt small, powerless despite him being caged right now. You gulped as your eyes met his teeth. You wondered how his teeth would feel on your skin, sinking into your neck. You were far too stressed out and humiliated right now, but a familiar warmth spreads down to your groin. You squeeze you legs together as you felt the start of your arousal. God you were pathetic. You hoped he didn't notice, but ooooh this demon did.

Peter chuckled lowly, he was enjoying the sight of ya. Your struggles was so fascinating to him. He never had someone interested in him. Sexually he means. He was always summoned by the power of greed, obsession. Powerful men wanted more power that a mere mortal can hold. Being the demon brought from gluttony, overindulgence was his way of life. And being the selfless demon that he is he doesn't mind sharing his way to others. Certainly doesn't mind when all his Masters, one by one are ruined from it. All their belongings, their pride and worth stripped away by the very thing that they wanted more of. He took great pleasure from it. And in turn kept his own gluttonous desires satisfied.

But now he has an opportunity to try something new. You brought it upon yourself to him on a silver platter. He first thought when he took a look at the situation that he was in was that something on the topic of books was your desire. Your link with him was not completed since you messed up his summoning, so he couldn't get a feel of his masters connection with him. No sense of obsession or greedy need from you. But Peter didn't need any of that.

You were an open book.

You wanted him.

And how can he neny that.

Certainly not when he too felt hungry.He didn't want just a nibble, or a taste. No, Peter wanted to devour you whole. He is gluttonous after all.

"Oooh Master~?" He practically purs towards you. He leans down at much he could with the barrier blocking him. You could feel his breath on your face.

"Were you really that dick hungry that you couldn't think straight with the summons. That eager to be fucked like the good girl that you are, that you couldn't even read the simplest of instructions. Now look at what it left you with. Nothing. Poor baby, noones here to please you, worship this gorgeous body until you cry out to God. Oh but he won't respond to sinners the likes of you love. Your too fucking gone now, tainted by lust."

You whined.

You really should be ashamed of yourself, but the way Peter spoke to your felt so right to you. Your panties were damp, and he hasn't done anything to you yet. You grew more needy for him, from just his teasing alone. You wanted to reach out and touch his pale and blackened skin. But you couldn't.Be damned, you were scared. Not getting cold feet or anything but he wasn't even an incubus. Your mind went a mile a minute, ending up with self doubt and negativity. He was just teasing you? Of course he was, you made a fool of yourself, he's just doing that for kicks.

"You know, I'm a pretty generous fella. I could help you. I believe this gluttonous desire would be more than enough to finish this ritual. What do you say Master~" he drags the last word as of he's breathless. He was getting ahead of himself with his eagerness.

"But your a glutton demon" you state.

"Mmm?" Peter responded, clearly not understanding what was going on with your mind.

"I thought gluttony was when your over eating." You say.

*Gasp*

"Certainly not. That's a harmful stereotype". He says in a shocked tone, crossing his arms, he looks away from you, he pouts.

"Ah shit sorry I-I didn't meant tha-"

But then quickly laughs it off, drowning out your apology. "Nah I'm just pulling your leg". He hums as he continues. " Gluttony is overindulgence." he corrects.

"Oh" you responded.

"And right now I want to indulge eating out your pretty little pussy~" Peter moans.

"Oh?...."

"Oh?" Again is puzzled by your reluctance.

'You're not messing with me, are you serious about this?" You questioned, still not sure if this demon is making fun of you.

"Yes~" Peter purred.

...

"If you don't believe I can beg fo-" " Ah that won't be necessary" You object but he does so anyway.

Peter instantly drops to his knees with a loud bang. His breath escapes him in a needy whine as he stared right at your with painful want. "Please, please Master let me taste you, I want to taste your pussy. Let drink from your sweet nectar. I can be your good demon for you. So good. If you let me. Use me. Order me master. To feast upon you. Let me devour you until you cry out for no more, to finally be satisfied. Please Master. Let me out."

Holy fuck. This man has no shame. Your left speechless as he just he smirks with such admiration. His body is shaking as if he wants to pounce on you, but the salt circle is imstill intact, preventing him to. All doubt has left your body when you noticed a tent that formed under his robes.

"You sure you aren't an incubus?" You laugh. He laughs back.

"Not sure, you know, might be one on my mother's side. Wanna find out together?"

[borderline-corner]

Today's Fictional BPDer is: Starlight Glimmer from My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic

Starlight Glimmer is a unicorn who is very gifted in magic. She is initially introduced as an antagonist, motivated to force equality on a town by her childhood best friend abandoning her. She later becomes a student of friendship and eventually, the headmaster of the School of Friendship. Starlight shows several traits of BPD throughout the show:

Fear of Abandonment: This is Starlight's core. Abandonment pains her so much that it drives her to be afraid of making any more friends without controlling them. She struggles with feeling secure in her relationships, and she often believes people will leave her if they find out about her past. She consistently shows that she is very worried about the friends she has leaving her or liking her less than others.

Unstable Relationships: Starlight has a rocky past with relationships. She might have a Favourite Person, a common experience among those with BPD, where one person is idealized and loved above all others. A person with BPD wants to spend every second with their Favourite Person, which can easily lead to codependency and other unhealthy dynamics. When Starlight's Favourite Person leaves her, it devastates her to the point of her closing off all her walls to any future relationships unless she can control them and keep people from leaving her. When her Favourite Person comes back into her life, she is very possessive of him and feels insecure and abandoned when he spends time with others. Throughout the show, she begins to learn to spread out her love for multiple people and to avoid putting all of her value onto one person, and she ends the series in a much healthier place relationship-wise.

Emotional Dysregulation: Starlight has big emotions, and she can be prone to drastic mood swings or outbursts. She has an explosive temper, which she sometimes expresses unchecked and other times she bottles it up until she can't hold it in any longer. She is afraid of expressing her emotions freely because she fears that she will hurt someone else.

Black and White Thinking/Splitting: Starlight views people and situations as good or bad, and she can change her perception of things very quickly. She idolizes her friends and puts them on a pedestal, but if they do something that bothers her, she is very prone to intense feelings of loathing towards them.

Impulsive Behaviours: Starlight has a tendency to "go with her gut" and act without thinking, mostly expressed through impulsive uses of magic that typically have major consequences for others around her.

Delusional or Paranoid symptoms: Starlight feels immense amounts of shame for her past wrongdoings, so much so that it manifests as paranoia that people find out about what she did, or that she will continue to hurt others in the same way. She feels constant fear of being found out and ostracized, and avoids making new friends and walks on eggshells with her new friends to handle her fears. As she becomes more comfortable with others and learns to accept herself and her past, this paranoia dies down.

[shanastoryteller]

I think it only fair to ask on this, the beginning of Spoopy Season, for a continuation of Living Blood? 🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡 Also Happy Halloween!!

a continuation of 1 2 3 4

Zagreus hoards the darkness.

It's a waste to spend it on the mirror when he can twist it into something different, something better and more useful.

Wielding chaos doesn't come to him easily, but that just means it's like everything else in his life. He uses it to hide things from his father and to change things without his notice.

This domain belonged to Chaos first, after all. They can see everything that he's doing, but they;re intrigued and amused and even offer boons and advice to help him. Zagreus is grateful for it, even though it's always a double edges sword.

He wouldn't have been able to do so much so quickly without it.

Replicating Chaos's portals is tedious and pulls the blood from his veins, but less and less as time goes on. And as his priestess spreads his names and his blessings across the mortal earth, he has more blood to give.

Zagreus bleeds, and bleeds, using the power of his blood melded with chaos to twist the underworld into a different shape, and yet his body never runs dry. These days he only dies when he chooses to.

He shifts among the levels of the underworld, bypassing all the irritating challenges and using the time everyone thinks he's using to fight his way to the surface on more substantial pursuits.

Creating a path from Tartarus to Asphodel to Elysium without getting caught by Charon does drain him to exhaustion a few times, but it's worth it.

"Oh, you've been up to something interesting, haven't you Prince Z?" Sisyphus asks in delight when Zagreus shows him the entrance.

"We could use some help with the next harvest," he says, grinning. "If you're up to keeping a secret."

It's a huge swath of the underworld that he's edged his way into, formed by chaos and blood and that can’t be touched by anyone without his express invitation.

“This isn’t a path,” Patroclus scoffs when Zagreus shows him. “This is – it’s nearly the size of Elysium! You could fit a whole kingdom in here!”

That’s an exaggeration. It’s much smaller than Elysium.

“Or a princedom,” Eurydice adds thoughtfully. “The clearing has been getting a little crowded. I don’t suppose anyone knows how to build a castle?”

“I designed a few in my time,” Sisyphus says, rubbing his hands together.

Zagreus frowns. “I don’t – it’s just supposed to make things easier for us, and to give us more room to grow things.”

“We’ll do that too,” Patroclus says, surveying the land with a contemplative air that makes Zagreus nervous. “But every god needs his domain.”

“This is my father’s domain,” he points out. “My domain lives in my followers’ veins and perhaps in the temples they’ve started constructing.”

“Where is your father’s power here?” Patroclus asks. “All I feel is yours.”

Well – well. Hm.

“There are a few more nymphs I trust that could help,” Eurydice says, “if you don’t mind, Prince.”

He gives up. “If you trust them, I trust them. Just don’t go overboard.”

Three of his very good friends are smiling at him and nodding and Zagreus tells himself the unease he feels is paranoia.

~

Meg hears rumors but doesn’t understand them and dismisses them. The dead are all a bunch of gossips and nothing they say can be trusted.

Except she vanquishes another disobedient soul and as it vanishes it hisses, “Horrible harpy! You deserve to be part of the Prince’s Court!”

What an odd way to phrase that, she thinks. She and Zagreus are just sleeping together, whenever she’s free and she can stop him for long enough to roll him into bed.

It’s almost laughable – the idea that Zagreus would have any court of his own, that there’s any power that could be clawed out of Hades’s grip.

It’s impossible.

She’d once thought escape was impossible too.