#and fair game still rules my brain

[hotchfiles]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ❝ ['CUZ YOU'RE A NATURAL] ❞ — a in this house of mine prequel ; MDNI!

pairing: aaron hotchner x rossi!reader. summary: not having a crush on your dad's friend and co-worker should be rule number one. but what are rules when said friend is aaron hotchner? content warnings: this is suggestive at best. foul language? still let's go with MDNI! age-gap flirting. word count: 1k. a/n: might do a pt.2, i just needed to get this out of my brain.

he’s just pretending not to notice it at this point, which isn’t easy coming from a person who notices everything. coming from the man who helped build the unit that literally analyzes people for a living. 

granted he wasn’t the most present of fathers and he wasn’t even sure if your mother was his second or third ex wife anymore, but he knew human behavior and human behavior clearly showed there was no reason for you to be there, “kid, i’m sure you hate sports of any kind.” david comments, observing as you made sure jack’s shoes were tight and wouldn’t get in his way. 

“well dear father, actually, i was a cheerleader for my last three high school years. and the first two university ones.” he knows that, and you know he knows it, but your best way out of the mess you were purposefully getting into right now was to appeal to the guilt you knew he still had from not being around much. “base of the pyramid, very important, sporty, love sports.” you noticed you were going on for too long and shut your yapper.

lucky for you aaron didn’t seem to mind the two of you discussing, busy watching his baby boy with the most sweetest look on his face, he looks ethereal, his smile the most enchanting you’ve ever seen. 

you can feel your father’s glance going from you to aaron slowly, he’s observing, analyzing but trying hard to ignore the signs. the signs that you weren’t there for some dad and daughter bonding.

unless the dad in question was hotchner.

the sole reason you had put yourself in short rounded skirt, sports short underneath, gym sneakers and shirt, and an old baseball cap to make it look like it wasn't so out of the norm for you to be at an event like that. it was. your dad was right, you didn't like sports, you liked cheer squad and the parties and the players, not the game. but you had your eyes set on the coach today which is why you were there instead of working on your masters' assignments.

you couldn't even pretend to know what was going on, if it was football you had some experience from watching and hearing past flings talk about it, but soccer? you could only cheer for jack and bicker with the soccer moms around as they talked about how much better their children were.

"hey lady if your son gets that close to jack again i'm gonna jump him." you point your finger at one of them, decorum almost goes to hell as she begins walking your direction, rossi stepping in the way to apologize for your behavior.

oh. you can't just threaten to hurt kids. that's not okay. "sorry, just used to fighting with guys' girlfriends to defend my team. cheer squad reflex memory." you say lowly directly to aaron, not even bothering to apologize to your father. your cheeks tomato red, a combination from the embarrassment and the sun that was making everyone sweat.

"it's fine, she has to teach her son fair play anyway, he's not gonna go far like that." his expression doesn't show even one single sign of being mad at you, you notice it, rossi notices it. aaron's actually smiling, completely amused by the situation.

it was nice to have someone sticking up for his boy like that.

and to have someone look at him with those eyes. not the aw you're such a good dad eyes most mothers gave him when he's around for matches. nope. the please fuck me eyes you always shot at him even if your father was around. for the sake of his loyalty to rossi he pretended not to see it, as he knew rossi did too. he hoped david didn't notice the eyes he himself gave you though, or that if he did, he was kind enough to ignore it, aaron would never act on it. never. he was twice your age if not more even if he weren't friends with david.

still, he enjoyed the touches, the stolen glances, the way you wore your short dresses and skirts around him, the way you showed you cared above the desire for the unobtainable. how you sent him cute videos with show jack as a caption, how you remembered to bring a towel not for yourself, but to pat his face dry, delicate as ever.

"people will think you were the one playing sweating like this." you go through his face and his neck with it, handing him a water bottle after. you brought those yourself too, you wanted to be useful.

before he can hold it back, a smirk deliciously mischievous takes grip of his lips, "what can i say dear, i tend to sweat a bit when i'm doing any type of exercise." you're not sure if you wished you hadn't caught the innuendo of his reply, as you were now fighting hard not to squirm in front of him. oh you wanted nothing more than to be the one making him sweat.

"good thing your bedroom has an a.c then." you say almost mindlessly, panicking just a tad when you grasped the idea that maybe remembering that so easily wasn't the most normal thing to do. did you just sound obsessive? stalkerish? you think not when he chuckles, nodding in agreement.

you both just look at each other for a minute, breathing patterns completely irregular, being interrupted only by your father loudly coughing from some steps away from you both, tired of having to deal with the obvious tension between his daughter and his co-worker, his friend! rossi doesn't say anything else though. and neither does aaron or you, deciding to just go back to paying attention to the match.

but hotch had just got you an in. if he hadn't flirted back you might just keep it as a crush, but now?

now you needed him.

[webslingingslasher]

https://x.com/astralbaes/status/1771601120026079297?s=20

this is cherry when she unlocks makeouts and isn’t scared of peter anymore fnnfnfnd

peter wobbles when you wrap your arms around his neck, appearing from nowhere and hanging off him. he's in the middle of talking to a brother, but still holds an arm around your back to steady the both of you.

'right, right, uh huh. it's like- wait, did he fucking tell you about,' peter's brain lags slightly when a wet kiss is placed at the base of his neck. '- the car? not only did he dent the fucking bumper but then he tried to tell...' his voice cracks at the end, peter was unprepared for the light nibble you'd give him.

peter clears his throat and continues, he tightens his grip around your waist. he's telling you to calm down without words. '-tell ryan it was there when he took the car that morning.'

conversations over. you waste no time and bounce up on your toes to meet his mouth, peter's caught off guard but he shouldn't have been, kissing him has been your new favorite thing. especially because he gets so pliant when you're the one initiating.

'hey, c'mon, you had him all week. let me get ten minutes with parker.' peter thinks that's fair, you've been all over him recently and he’s had zero complaints. his brothers on the other hand... are starting to notice his absence from the group.

peter pushes at your hips, he's pushing you away, he's revoking his kisses. it won't do, you turn to glare at his brother, you keep peter tight against you.

'he's mine.' you hiss out the words and peter almost drops to the ground because he's never had a girl so possessive over him and having it be you was the hottest thing he's ever witnessed.

'there's enough of me to go arou-'

'no.' it's just as cold as your earlier statement, no one is going to take your favorite thing away from you. peter flashes his brother a weak smile and holds his finger up, then he brings his head down to whisper in your ear.

'give me a few minutes with my friend. i'll come find you in a second.' you tug at his shirt, 'no.' peter kisses your temple and gently brings his hand around his back to try and gently pry you off.

'c'mon, cherry. your friends are here, go say hi for a minute.' you latch down when peter tries to grab your wrist, you've got a vice grip. 'no! i wanna kiss you.'

peter's brother is watching him fall right into your hands, he channels some of that frat boy edge from last year and breaks your hold. it's like he just committed a cardinal sin. 'we're in public. no more kisses, go find your friends.'

you turn into a grumpy mess and cross your arms over your chest. 'you never wanna do things when i want! it's always you and what you want and your rules and your game and... and... you suck! find someone else to kiss tonight!'

you stomp off, then turn right back around and point at him. 'that's me being upset. if you kiss someone else tonight i will fucking kill you. but- go kiss someone else cause it won't be me!'

peter watches you leave his eyesight and closes his eyes when his friend snorts at him. 'well, you know what? i've never seen a girl so desperate to makeout with you.' he punches peter’s shoulder as he jokes around. 'i thought you were better than a 'put something in her drink' type of guy.'

peter rolls his eyes. 'yeah, yeah, yeah. like you wouldn't be first in the lineup if you woke up with tits.' his brother raises his hands up, 'i dunno, man. that 'he's mine' comment has me second guessing it.'

'fuck, i know. where the fuck did that come from?'

'no idea. it was kind of hot though.'

'okay.' peter's done with this part of the conversation and what his brother finds hot about you. peter moved right back in on the semi- car thief and was filled in on what he missed out on while he was mia. peter doesn't think he missed much, you were much more entertaining than an arm wrestling competition.

ten minutes later and his brother nods towards the party behind them. 'go find your girl, i'm gonna go try to find my own possessive princess.'

you're still upset when peter approaches, he aims for a kiss on the cheek, it's a bad move and you're swatting at him to back up. 'oh no, not happening, no sir. you told me no more kisses and i said it's always up to you when it's convenient and you let me walk away.'

peter frowns, 'did you want me to run after you?'

'yes! i wanted you to tell me that wasn't true and you respect what i want too.' peter cups your cheeks to force you to keep your eyes on his.

'i respect what you want. and i'm sorry, cherry, but i'm not going to run after you. part of a relationship is communication, when you walk away from me i assume you want space, not that you want to be followed. if you have an issue you need to hash it out with me, not expect me to fill in the blanks.'

'so you don't care?'

'i do care. i care a lot, cherry. but i also have other friends and obligations and i can't always drop them for you. but that doesn't mean you have to stomp off and expect to get your way.'

you look to the side, you're bad at this relationship stuff and you're glad you have peter here to guide you. it doesn't mean you always like it. 'but you're mine.'

you have no idea how that makes him feel. 'i am?' he's craving more of your possession, he wants to know just how much you need him. 'of course you are! you're mine and i'm yours and when i want a kiss i want you to kiss me, it's very simple.'

peter perks up, 'is it?' you huff up at him, your hands wrap around his wrists. 'yes.' peter would be very, very dumb to disagree. but he also has some boundaries.

'alright, i hear you and i'm glad you're communicating with me. personally, i'm not a huge fan of pda, but you are. if you want a kiss, i'll give you a kiss. but no makeouts or groping, can we agree on that?'

you almost blind peter with your smile, you nod quick and fast. 'yes, yes, yes! look at me go, petey! communicating and compromising! i'm gonna freaking rock this girlfriend stuff.' you brush a hand over his shirt, smoothing out a small wrinkle.

'all thanks to my practice boyfriend.'

peter feels numb. 'practice boyfriend?' you grin, 'yeah. you're the pop quiz before the test, so, thank you.' peter drops his hold, you frown and reach for his hands but peter crosses them over his chest so you can't.

'i'm not doing this to pass you off to another guy, cherry.'

you raise an eyebrow, 'then who are you passing me off to?' peter's not the best at communication either because he still can't get the 'i'm in love with you' off his tongue.

'i don't know. what was all of that about i'm yours and you're mine?' you 'ooh' at him and do a little spin, peter feels his heart thump three times as hard.

'not ready to give me up yet, parker?'

you don't have to ask for a kiss, peter's already doing it for you. you're breathless when he pulls away.

'never.' 

[kissingchoso]

boyfriend!choso fulfilling your greatest fantasy and being ghostface for halloween.

cw: mask kink, degradation, shitty writing.

y’all this is my short horny piece for halloween so lol enjoy to the 5 peeps who will read this

you think you’re on the other side of the club away from him. you periodically check the many party goers and their costumes around you to ensure you don’t see a long, white mask. you’re walking away from the bar when you felt your phone vibrate and a message popping up across your screen that has your heart palpating faster than normal.

“i see you.”

you whip your head to the left and right, scanning the sea of drunken adults for a familiar silhouette but none comes. you’re about to step forward to change your location but someone from behind you catches your wrist before you can take another step. whipping your head around, you’re met with an all too familiar mask staring down at you. the lights are too dim in the party to make out the eyes, but just from the familiar grip alone, you know you’re staring up at your boyfriend.

he says your name once, tugging you closer until you’re chest to chest with him. “caught you,” he says with his normal tone, but you can make out a hint of smugness in there.

your glossed lips pout up at him, upset that he found you only five minutes into this little game of hide and seek you started.

“you do have a height advantage,” you complained, reaching up to push the mask up over his face so that it rests on the top of his head. you had the pleasure of adding some more makeup on his face, adding a dark eyeshadow around his eyes and even creating some false scars on his cheekbones and jaw.

“you never gave me any rules,” choso says before stepping forward, hand coming to rest on your hips.

you frown a little bit before you look up at his eyes, noting the way his face still had hints of a smirk, proud for completing his simple task of finding you.

“well, you won fair and square, i guess. what do you want then?”

choso pauses to stare at you. he’d never thought this far. while he didn’t doubt his abilities to find you in this crowded space, he wasn’t necessarily doing it for the purpose of winning. he just found himself at your side naturally, despite the space between you two. so while he racked his brain for simple prizes he could claim, he thought back to earlier while you two were getting ready for this evening.

you were seated on his lap, finishing his very basic makeup look. when you had finished with adding the makeup around his eyes, the iconic mask was slipped over his face and he remembers staring at you through the spaces of the eyes and remembering the subtle way your lower lip found its way between your teeth and the way your eyes flicked up and down to scan his body before you shyly shot up and finished getting ready yourself.

maybe choso can use this to his advantage.

“i have an idea.” is all he can offer you.

the next ten minutes are a blur. because in the first few minutes he’s dragging you out of the club with his mask pulled back down and in the next you’re laying in the back seat of his dodge challenger with his large body looming over you. everything about his aura has changed. nothing like your service dom boyfriend who usually waits for you to give him the go ahead. it’s swapped with this arrogant man who tells you nothing but simple commands.

he tells you to strip, you strip.

take his cock out, you’re undoing the button and zipper of his jeans before tugging them down with his boxers.

he adjusts the both of you in his car so he’s now seated comfortably. “fuck yourself on it, sweetheart.” he commanded with a muffled voice underneath his mask.

and god, this is the only time you hesitate. on any normal occasion, your boyfriend is horribly against this sort of thing but you’re proven wrong the moment he fists for the back of your hair, wrapping the locs around his fist.

“did i fucking stutter?”

“n-no, mr. ghostface,” you stammer out, fresh tears springing up in your eyes but choso knows it’s for show. he can fucking smell your arousal from underneath your tiny skirt.

“then do what i say and fuck yourself stupid on my cock. and don’t stop until i tell you to.”

“y-yes!”

happy halloween 🎃

[thebearme]

Any tf2 headcanons?

I was hoarding this ask for when I have alot of hcs but I now realize that that was an awful idea becuz now there too much going on in my brain. So I'll tell you the ones I can remember rn.

(btw this is gonna be a mess of silly and sad contention into a blender, so sorry for any whiplash)

Everyones business last name is TF2. It's canon, Ms Pauling said so.

Scout and Ms Pauling have one thing in common, they're simps for women out of their league and it's sad.

My current idea of the plot is that Ms Pauling is now the new administrator and the mercs are still working for her but now instead of a war they are now a Hire-A-Merc organization. Why, so they can pay the blood pact that the old administrator got them in from Abraham Lincoln.

The team is a merge for BLU and RED team members.

BLU: Scout, Medic, Soldier, Engineer | RED: Heavy, Demo, Spy, Sniper, Pyro

Engie has an gaming channel.

Engie is a little person. (you can't convince otherwise LOOK AT HIM)

Engie does his own surgery, not that he doesn't trust Medic. He just doesn't trust Medic. He has more trust that in his drunken state he could chop his arm off cleaner than Medic because of his god complex.

Engie says trans rights.

Engie has two moods: Wholesome bumpkin or manic "i am better than all of you".

Medic and Heavy are married. (but to be fair thats just canon)

Medic never had a medical license but he did go to school... for animal care.

Medic has a Doctor of Veterinary Medicine degree and lied ALOT to military when he got drafted to get out safely.

He got a nazi skeleton and dead parents out of that.

Medic burn his documents so now the only people that knows is the people he tells like Heavy.

Medic only have two reasons for being here- 1) to experiment on everyone. 2) Heavy

Medic eats like a cat eating a dragon fruit. And so does Archimedes.

Medic is the definition of "no rules no boundaries he doesn't flinch at torture and sells blood for money. He's your new best friend."

Medic is slowly going more insane with time and can't tell if it's because he sold his soul to the devil or because someone is secretly fucking with him. (it's Spy)

Heavy met Medic before joining the team.

Heavy has a cooking channel.

He's a masochist. (he has too if he's with Medic.)

Heavy will kill Soldier before he starts having kids with Zhanna. He's still not ok with him.

Heavy has lots of cute moles on him. (Medic makes sure to kiss each one and make sure they're not lethal.)

While Im at it Heavy family is cursed to fall in-love with insane men.

Pyro-vision is just Pyro going through a heat stroke.

Pyro is the leader of the hate spy club.

Pyro has kids that live in the ocean with his mermaid wife. Don't ask how, it's Pyro.

Engie and Scout are the only ones that understand what Pyro is saying completely.

Engie adopted Pyro unofficially but that's his son right there.

Soldier and Zhanna are gonna have twins.

Soldier and Demo had kiss once- with their socks on.

Medic did a blood test on Soldier and he actually is not 100% American, he doesn't know and everyone intends it to stay that way.

Soldier and Scout actually know each other from before getting hired by BLU. They were comrade in the 100,000 new men program in Vietnam.

After Scout left in general discharge from a land mine incident he thought that would be the laat time he sees him. He was wrong.

Don't worry they're chill, well as chill as man can be when their hand is somehow a magnet to your neck.

Sniper is a social smoker.

Sniper is like a lizard, he doesn't fuck with the cold.

Sniper is younger than Scout. He just spent too much time in the sun and now he looks like a divorce 40 y/o dad struggling with his mortgage. Or just a brown Adam Sandler.

Sniper got those old man bones AKA my bones. His knees be cracking down the hall.

Sniper hops round different peoples places for the holidays. He spent the most time at Engie's house with Pyro; he had spent a Christmas or two with Scout's family but a "certain someone" doesn't appreciate the bushman there and ruining his holiday with his family.

When Scout has to give directions or details of the area he just draws it. Because NO ONE understands this mans writing.

Scout's life mission is to be Gods greatest gift and not just for the women. Like the bible said "a hole is a hole"... or atleast thats what Scout remembers from church.

Scout while being illiterate CAN speak Spanish, Italian, Vietnamese and French. (but he doesn't remember where he learned french from tho.)

Scout is resistant to radiation at this point.

Before becoming a merc, Scout was working at a diner that fitted him quite well.

Waffle House at the graveyard shift.

Scout's fuckboy attitude comes from daddy issues while Spy slut attitude comes from mommy issues.

Spy came from a rich family until he ran away to help in the war effort and became a spy. He doesn't regret his decision nor miss his home but does wish he did a proper goodbye to his brother.

The reason Spy has teeth capsules in his mouth to begin with is because one time him and a his fellow spy were getting torture by the enemy by having their teeth removed. Now all his teeth are fake.

Speaking of teeth, Scout got his buck-teeth from Spy.

Spy HAS gotten lungs transplanted several times from Medic because this mf refuses to chill out and get help with his smoking problem.

Spy is gender fluid.

Spy is a furry.

Demo is going to kill him one day.

That day is when he finds his DA account.

[shrink-or-grow]

WELCOME TO THE BLOG!!! TAKE A SIZE RAY AND HAVE A SEAT.

This is a blog for making polls about giant/tiny size headcanons about characters from all kinds of different media, run by me, the one-and-only @tiny-brain. Yeah, you've probably (never) heard of me. I (don't) get around.

Each poll will be about a different character from a different piece of media, determining whether they should shrink, grow, or if they'd work better as a full-on sizeshifter!

I'm going to try to make this a daily thing, but don't be surprised if I disappear or forget to post some days. Basically just check back whenever and see if there's a new poll or not. I'll try not to keep you all waiting too long if I do go missing.

There's also a chance I'll hand this blog off to someone else in the future, cause while I obviously wanna stick around for as long as I can, I DO NOT want to be doing this forever. I might be willing to come back on occasion though, so who knows?

ANYWAY ON TO THE MOST IMPORTANT PART: DA RULES!!!

ALL CHARACTERS MUST BE SUGGESTED VIA ASKS! If you have questions about a character you are submitting please DM me through my main blog, @tiny-brain.

Characters can come from almost anything (movies, TV, video games, web series, comics, novels, etc), and be almost anything (even inanimate objects or memes/jokes).

This blog is SFW only. PLEASE DO NOT SUGGEST CHARACTERS WITH OVERLY SEXUAL/NSFW CONNOTATIONS BEHIND THEM (Or if they come from something intentionally meant to be NSFW) NSFW blogs, please DNI.

DO NOT Suggest characters associated with problematic real-life individuals/organizations. I will not tolerate any racism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia, hatred for religious or ethnic groups, or any other prejudice of any kind. This blog is meant to be a safe space for everyone. If you are not willing to tolerate others because of their differences, do not interact with me or follow me.

I also reserve the right to refuse to do a poll on a character if I don't want to do one for them. You can DM me on my main account to argue your case for them, and I will explain my own reasoning, but if I still refuse, please do not continue to bug me about it.

Your OCs are wonderful and I love them all, but chances are they're already big and/or small, if you're the kind of people I think you are (cause who else would follow a blog like this?). Suggesting them for this poll would be kind of redundant, wouldn't it? If you want to submit an OC that's not already size-related though, that's fair game, just be sure to provide me with art/images of them to use in the poll header.

Please make sure to be kind and considerate to others! This isn't a competition, so if more people vote for a character to be a different size than what you thought they should be, don't be a jerk about it. We've all got our own headcanons, and if you want Reigan to be a smol little guy in your AU fanfic, nobody's stopping ya. In fact, tell people about it! I'm sure they'll love your ideas, even if they chose to vote differently.

AGTHMP I ALMOST FORGOR THIS RULE AM SORRYYY Basically, please only submit one character per ask. That means no groups for now, sorry. I'd like for each individual character to have their own poll before we start messing with both them and all their friends together as a unit. Sorry!

And that should do it! Now start suggesting characters! I can't wait to get this started. I put off doing homework for this!

[barbwritesstuff]

I guess this is both a game mechanics question and a philosophy question. So. Vampire politics is a justification game, right? At the end of the day, we're all still bloodsucking monsters. The tribute is always gonna be 10 mill. Whether that's "because your domain has been quiet, so we're being lenient" or whether it's "things are kind of tense, so we're going to have to charge more" - it's 10 mill. Erin wants the no-kill rule dropped no matter what, even if it already allows other vampires to congregate and eat - if the rule went away, we'd get more interest. Even if I paid tribute, Lucius is still gonna give me the "sucks to be you" talk, right? I'm not criticizing; sometimes that's how politics works and I'm sure it's only more so when the brain's capacity for empathy is quickly eroding away, so it's actually a pretty elegant way of dealing with things; I just want to make sure I haven't managed to miss another path. Really Erin's is the only one that gives me pause because we're saying the same thing, we want the same thing, and we still can't compromise because we can't justify that last step to ourselves. Oof. It goes hard.

You haven't missed a path.

Vampire society is all about being brutal while pretending to be fair. A fist in a velvet glove. No matter what you do, the king is going to demand as much tribute as he thinks he can get from you. The fledglings aren't really interested in negotiation. It's all a facade.

It's also about keeping my workload manageable. Thicker Than has a lot more branches and variables than Blood Moon, so to avoid overwhelming myself I need to make some events fixed. I hope that's okay.

[squishylemonbubbles]

kiryu autism thoughts

because i say sooooo.

grew up with a lot of trouble figuring out and naming his feelings, and that came with people floundering and not being sure how to help. he learned aggression was a quick fix, unfortunately! compound that with toxic ideals like "boys never cry", which speaking of:

sure he was a boy, but it was hard feeling like one of the boys, you know? because of his problems understanding and following social rules, there were plenty of times he was cast out from bonding and games, and the girls usually wouldn't let him in on theirs either.

probably somewhat of a delinquent in school, not on purpose but see the above, no sense of emotional control that doesn't eventually involve beatdowns. relied on nishiki a fair bit to pull him away.

also probably either didn't finish, or finished with the bare minimum. never got along well with schoolwork, not that he's entirely clueless about how things work, but the structure failed him.

very strong sense of justice, which is what leads him to being self-sacrificial. again compounded by toxic ideals, that men are the ultimate protectors, it becomes a rule in his mind that he must help and he must let people use him (or otherwise put himself in trouble) if the cause is noble.

bad at reading people and their intentions, he tends to think "well, i wouldn't lie about something like that" and it doesn't always register that other people don't all share his thoughts. though, see above as well: even if he feels like someone's intentions are bad, sometimes he feels obligated to help just in case they aren't.

entirely too much eye contact, coupled with his resting face, intimidates people. he doesn't understand why. no seriously:

he does try to be expressive, but it's often either too subtle or too obviously forced. (tbh even in my fics, i do write him with expression but i picture most of them subtly which i find hard to convey sometimes lol)

he really zeroes in when he's focussed, to the point of forgetting about basic care, or the people and situation around him.

not overstimulated especially easily, but it hits really hard when he is - usually from lack of sleep or other self neglect. completely loses his speech, single mindedly just tries to get the fuck out. (one of the reasons i picture kiryu knows, and still occasionally uses, some JSL.)

prison giving him a lot of time to think and "improve himself" meant he sort of found ways to keep his feelings under control, and more importantly to figure them out and be open at least within himself, but externalising is still a massive struggle that takes time to get through, with ups and downs.

uhh i'm sure i could think of more to say but my brain's shot now so i'm leaving it here

[stusbunker]

Spotless: Bravura

Chapter Four

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela

Other characters: Sam, past Dean/Jo

Word Count: 3893

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, allusion to Jo and Mary's deaths, allusion to Sam's addiction issues, buried feelings, bribery in the form of pie, unbeta'd

Series Masterlist

Divider courtesy of @cafekitsune

Dean woke up with only a hint of a hangover, having stuck to beer most of the night. They had guests over after all. Which was one of those little rules he had made for himself over the past few months to keep himself in line, accountability and all that. He groaned and stretched, letting his body fan out into the empty spaces of his oversized bed. It was on mornings like that one when Dean wished he had given in to Sam and gotten them a dog. But in a few months, they’d been back on the road and that kind of life isn’t fair to anyone, let alone a pet you can’t explain your life choices to. 

So, instead of getting wake up kisses or giving out chin scratches, Dean got himself out of bed. He made his way downstairs to make some coffee. Charlie had ducked out sometime around two, leaving you alone on the couch. Which is where Dean found you still, breathing deeply with your mouth open like a hoodie-doned Anna, rat’s nest hair and all. Fuckin’ adorable.

Dean smiled to himself and quietly made a pot of coffee.

Not even an hour later and you were up, wiping the drool onto the sleeve of your sweatshirt and slogging into the kitchen, empty glass of water in your free hand which you set down next to the sink. 

“Mornin’,” you said to him, casual as ever.

Dean stayed put, no matter how much he wanted to reach out and touch you. “Mornin’. Want something to eat? There’s coffee, but not sure it’s still hot.”

“It’s coffee, it’s fine,” you insisted, grabbing a mug like you lived there and poured yourself the last of the pot. You slid into the stool next to Dean and glanced over his shoulder, lyrics and chords criss crossing his notepad as he doodled in the margins. He tried not to flinch from your curiosity.

“Just working out the kinks,” he said softly, before taking a sip from his own cup.

“I can’t imagine, there’s so much that goes into them all.” You shook your head, and added, “you’re so good at it, too.”

“Ahhh, shucks.” Dean smirked, bluffing as usual.

“At least I know you suck at video games, otherwise I’d doubt you were real.”

Always putting him in his place. He elbowed you, making you flail to stop your coffee from spilling. “That real enough for ya?”

“Ass!”

Dean chuckled and folded his notes away, dropping his pen on top of the ratty first page that held forgotten potential album titles and a phone number to a Chinese place near the studio.

He sighed, grimacing at his now empty cup. “Need a ride home? I’m gonna take a drive before Sam’s back for lunch.”

You squinted at him and Dean could tell that was too obvious.

“Well, since you’re offering—”

“Always ready and willing to be your chauffeur, Trouble, you know that.”

“I know, I just don’t want to take up the rest of your morning off.” You shrugged and then dropped your head back and rolled your shoulders, grunting from the strain. “Remind me to find a bed next time, I’m guessing you guys have those, right?”

Dean had beds to spare, but more importantly, he was picturing you crawling into his bed, specifically. Luckily, his brain was smarter than his dick. “Yeah, don’t even use the coffins anymore, totally civilized and everything.”

You giggled pointedly. Hey, it wasn’t that bad a joke.

“Okay, well, I’ll be ready to go whenever you are,” you sighed before taking a long drink, hinting he should get in gear.

Dean pushed back away from the counter, careful not to nudge you as he stood. He was always so aware of his body in relation to yours, drawn in and held back. “Okay, sure. Uh, let me grab my wallet, meet you in the garage.”

You gasped from the long pull. “Sounds good.”

He made it to the backstairs before backtracking for his notepad, not wanting to leave something like that out as temptation. You played innocent, but he could tell you had been half a second away from snooping. He gave you his best disappointed face, as you huffed, the hesitance of your smile a sure sign of embarrassment.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Dean teased, and made his way back upstairs.

The ride out of the canyon was perfect, sunny and mild. He put his aviators on and cranked the tunes, drumming on the steering wheel as you hummed along beside him. If Dean could pick which memories to revisit in his dreams, he hoped to have this one again soon. Not much could top moments like this, when it was just you two and Baby, good music and the open road. Even days with Sam like this were few and far between lately.

He kept looking over at you, to see if you were smiling. And you’d just roll your eyes at him and turn up the music. God, he wanted to kiss you. But he wouldn’t do that to you, wouldn’t make you into somebody who he could really hurt. Somebody he could lose. After his mom and Jo, Dean was done with losing people. 

So, as long as Sam was clean and safe, Dean had everything he needed.

Friends were enough. For everything else, he’d manage.

He pulled up to the curb in front of your house just before eleven, the old place a welcome sight. 

“Hey, everything alright? You kind of disappeared there,” you asked, turning towards him on the bench seat.

Dean closed his eyes and kicked himself for overthinking. “Uh, yeah, just sort of spaced out. The house good? Need anything fixed?”

“Um, no, I mean yes. The house is good— nothing’s broken. I’d let my landlord know if I needed help, Dean,” you said weightedly.

“Yeah, but your landlord is kind of a dick. Might as well check.”

“Well, I think he’s on top of it. Even when he’s busy writing songs and playing chauffeur.” 

Dean couldn’t help but think of how else he’d like to be on top.

“Well, you know where to find me if you put a pound of pinto beans down the disposal again.”

“I swear to god! That was one time and my parents’ disposal could have handled that. You know what, I’m going to put an entire melon rind down there later, just so you have to fix it.” You swung the door open and stood up, straightening the strap of your bag and patting the pouch of your hoodie for your phone.

“I’ll make Sam come out, he’ll fucking compost it or some shit.” Dean grinned and held up his hand in a stunted wave as you closed the door.

“Thanks, butthead!” You called over your shoulder.

“Anytime,” he said back, too quiet for you to hear. He made sure you got in through the side door, before checking his blindspot, and pulling back into traffic.

November was slipping through Dean’s fingers, but days in the studio felt like a charged eternity. A lifetime of making music, and he still couldn’t get sick of it. It was in his blood, but he and Sam had stopped trying to live their father’s dream almost ten years ago and had started making their own kind of music. He walked out of Frank’s studio just after seven o’clock that following Tuesday night, giving the band an early night to prepare for Annie’s arrival the following day. Sam was on his phone as he rounded the trunk toward the passenger seat, talking to god-only-knew.

Dean unlocked his door and reached over to let Sam in, the stretch across the bench seat a good kind of ache after his hard day. Yeah, he was definitely sitting in the hot tub after they got some grub. 

“Hey!” Dean interrupted Sam’s call. “Pick up or delivery?”

Sam gave Dean a patented bitchface. “Just get it delivered, I don’t want to sit and wait and then have to drive more.”

“Ooooookay,” Dean muttered, ignoring his pissy brother as he punched in their usual pizza order.

A grueling seventy minutes later, Dean turned the corner and pulled into their driveway. After parking in his usual spot in the garage, he curled out of the car, leaving Sam texting on his phone while Dean bee lined to his room. He then stripped down, threw on a pair of trunks and an old ACDC t-shirt just in time for the doorbell to ring with their pizza delivery.

Dean muttered to himself about good timing and took the stairs barefoot down into the kitchen. 

Sam nodded at him and set the boxes onto the island. “Hey, look who’s here.”

And as Sam turned, Dean spotted you, an apology written all over your face and a bakery box held in your hands.

“Wha— Oh! Trouble's here. Is that—? Seriously living up to your nickname aren't you?” 

“Dude!” Sam chastised him, hair flapping in disgust.

“I’m just sayin’! She shows up out of the blue and I know enough to know a pie is to butter me up for something.”

“But you still want it," you urged, tipping it side to side to tempt him.

“Of course I want it, it’s pie! Jesus.” Dean snatched the box and opened it, smelling the sweet filling over the thick haze of cheese and spices from their pizza. Remembering his manners, he added on, “we got pizza, help yourself.”

He carried the pie box over to the range and set it down, before spinning around to pull out a server from their large utensil drawer. 

“So, Y/N, you gonna spill? Hmmm? Tell me why I’m slicing into this sexy, sexy crust?” Dean looked across the island to where you had plopped yourself down and started on a slice of pizza without waiting for a plate from Sam.

You chewed and swallowed, tipping your head to the side as if considering telling them at all. “God, that’s good. Um, yeah, I mean, I need a favor, but really it’s a favor for the band, so not technically for me, but it was my idea, so I brought you a peace offering—- which you already figured out, jackass.”

Dean grinned without teeth, taking his own plate from Sam and shoveling a quarter of the Dutch Apple pie onto it.

“What is it?” Sam asked, opening a beer before handing it to Dean.

“So the label thinks we still have a lot of work to do on your image. We need to regain the fans’ trust— in Dean, specifically. So I thought we should show ‘em how you’ve mellowed out and uh, settled down a bit.”

Dean and Sam shared a look over their respective slices of pie.

“Why does that sound like you’re marrying him off?”

You cleared your throat and reached over for a drink of Sam’s beer. Dean watched your throat bob around the beverage, other hand clenched in a wadded up paper towel. 

“Well, not marrying him off.”

“Okay, cryptic. Mind spelling it out for the rest of us?” Dean’s pie was suddenly too dry and he fought the sensation with a swipe of his tongue and a sip of his own beer.

Sam turned and grabbed himself another bottle.

“Remember my friend Bela? Well, I was thinking that you guys could like Social Media date for a while, show that you’ve matured–”

Sam almost choked on his beer. Dean glared at him as he finally reached for a slice of his meat lovers' deluxe. 

“And somebody who is as wholesome and well liked as Bela could, uh, help with that.”

“You want me to parade around the city with a washed up actress to show that I’m not gonna punch any more holes into dressing room doors?” Dean shoved half a slice of pizza into his mouth to keep his tongue in check.

“Basically,” you shrugged, then you squared your shoulders and looked Dean head on. He appreciated how serious you were taking this, but it sounded like the last thing that would convince Dick or even Crowley he’d turned over a new leaf.

“What’s Bobby say about all this?” Sam’s voice broke the moment.

Something flashed in your eyes when you looked at Sam. It almost seemed like you were embarrassed about something, or maybe just holding back. “He thinks it could work. He remembered Bela’s name from when she was a regular on that old sailing show. He backed me with the suits. They want a full year tour, extra press, double shows at the cities you had to cancel last round. But! I got you full say on the next album. They take off the reins and Phantom Traveler gets to make an album completely of their own.”

Dean chewed, debating calling Bobby himself just to see if the old codger actually agreed to the dog-and-pony show. But you wouldn’t lie about something that easily verified. He felt Sam watching him and took another obscene bite of pizza, just because.

“The guys know?” Sam continued as if Dean’s social life was being decided for him.

“No—- and I think we should keep it just between us. If too many people know it’s an act, it’ll do more harm than good.”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, that’s good– lie to ‘em. Sure that will be really good for band morale.”

“You don’t have to get serious about it, just some dates out in the open. See how everybody takes it.” You really wanted him to do this, and Dean couldn’t even touch on all the ways it was sitting wrong with him.

“And if all the tabloids start following us around?”

Sam huffed. “You’d play nice if somebody else’s career depended on it.”

Dean looked at you, at the sheer begging in your eyes and the tilt of your head in concession that Sam was right. Dean swore underneath his breath and dropped his pizza crust.

“She can’t be okay with this. She barely even talked to me at that housewarming you threw.”

Sam couldn’t keep his mouth shut, “that was, what? Five years ago?”

But you just rolled past the obvious. “She doesn’t tend to trust famous people, Dean. She’s been in the business since before she started kindergarten. She thinks you’re hot, if that matters. Just, please, wear, like, designer clothes and shave before you guys meet up? I promised her you knew how to clean up.”

Dean wanted to throw on the rattiest Walmart jeans he owned just to piss them all off for putting this on him. “I didn’t say I was doing anything.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Come on, Dean. You’ve dated a lot worse.”

“And a lot better,” Dean retaliated too quickly and the room fell into devastated silence. Everyone was thinking about who he meant and Dean couldn’t look you in the eye after that.

You let out a defeated sigh. “Don’t you trust me?”

All sense of appetite abandoned him. Dean felt your eyes bore into the side of his face, but he didn’t want to be the bigger person here. He was sick of always rising above, even if it was best for the band. “This isn’t about trust. I’m just not interested. Now— if you’ll excuse me. I have a real date— with my jacuzzi.”

Dean stood and marched out the French doors that led onto the pool deck. He felt Sam move behind him, no doubt doing the damage control that Dean was too wiped to muster. Why couldn’t Sam be the label’s golden boy, huh? Getting that oversized baby laid on their dime would actually be kind of cathartic. 

God, were they planning on paying your friend to date him? Was that how pathetic he was now? Dean turned on the jets and whipped his shirt over his head, muscles aching, he sank into the quickly warming water.

He closed his eyes and rested his neck against the ledge, willing the world around him to fade away. This plan would have never even hatched if he hadn’t fucked up so badly in the first place. If he hadn’t stopped giving a shit about being a musician and a decent human being and fallen in with Cain and all of his instincts- driven manipulative bullshit. If Dean hadn’t been so desperate for acceptance of his darker desires, of his rage. 

He could hear Alastair’s nasal laugh in the back of his mind and his hands instantly turned to fists beneath the water. 

No. That was not who he is. Not anymore.

He forced himself to open his eyes and stare at the handful of faint stars, lost to the lights of the city. He counted his breaths. Everything was so small, so inconsequential in the long run. What was a few dates and some hand holding? After everything he put his friends and family through the last couple of years, couldn’t he turn on the charm for some shitty paps and stupid apps?

Damnit.

He heard the doors close and your muted footsteps through the barrier of water and the thrum of the jets around him. He didn’t bother to sit up, he just closed his eyes and waited for the rest of your pitch. What he wasn’t expecting, was the gentle stroke of your fingers against the hair that clung to his forehead, or the fondness of your expression as you looked down at him where you were perched on the ledge of the tub, feet in the water and your long skirt hiked up to avoid getting soaked.

“What?” Dean didn’t mean to sound so rough, but the anger was always there, just beneath the surface, whether you deserved it or not.

“You’re thinking about him— and probably beating yourself up again. I can tell,” you said like you can read his mind. 

Dean sat up, carefully. “It’s not—- this stupid thing is my fault. Of course I’ll do it, but just let me feel like shit about it first. I mean, I need to grieve my bachelorhood here, you know what I’m sayin’?”

You shoved his face away. “Perv.”

Dean nudged your thigh with his shoulder, nearly toppling you over. Laughing, you scooted to the opposite side of the tub. Dean kicked his feet out, warning you he could still get you drenched if he wanted to. You didn’t test fate.

Dean caved. “Pam’s not gonna believe it until she sees us together, and maybe not even then. I gotta work my way up to it before we are seen together. Text me her number so I can start playing distracted.”

“Of course.”

“Sam butthurt he doesn’t get a fake girlfriend, too?” Dean asked to keep them on the surface of things.

You cocked an eyebrow and looked back at the house where Sam had disappeared somewhere. “Do you guys even talk, like, at all? He’s been talking to Madison from the animal shelter for like two months, Dean.”

“No shit?” Dean was impressed. “God, he always did like older women.”

“Nooooooo, older women like Sam. He just doesn’t have any hold ups about age gaps.” You said pointedly.

“Hey, Sammy’s a big boy, he can make his own mistakes.”

“Sure.” You sighed. “Are you really okay with this? I know how much you hate the forced persona-type of publicity.”

“I mean, I’m not thrilled with it. But—- pretending to date a hot chick isn’t really the worst case scenario, either.”

You just shook your head at him in a way that made Dean feel like he had fixed something he didn’t know was breaking. “She really is good people, okay? She’s not just a pretty face. Even if she comes off as a bit—”

“Stuck up?”

“I was going to say discerning, but yeah.”

He laughed. “Christ, Y/N, always spinning something for the positive.”

“It’s what I’m paid the big bucks for,” you threw back at him.

“Ha-ha. But seriously, if this works out, definitely figure something out with Bobby for your next contract, this could save all our bacon.”

“That’s the plan, at least. You know if we could trust people not to be assholes, I would have all the platforms knowing what a great guy you really are.”

“Yeah, people still believe what they want to believe. That’s why I need you to sell it for me. Goes down much easier with a buffer.”

“I think you mean a filter.”

“Both.” Dean rolled his shoulders before reaching over to reset the jets. “There’s suits upstairs if you want a soak, it’s mighty nice after a long day.”

“Why do you have girls swimming suits in your house? Do you just collect them or wear them in your free time?”

“A, for guests, which you are, so excuse me for offering. And two, I would look damn good in a little two piece number, so don’t knock it. But nothing and I mean nothing could make me prove it, so tough titties there.”

“A girl can dream,” you teased back, playing with the bottom hem of your partially damp skirt.

Dean winked. And you just groaned and hid your face in your hands.

“Ugh! Not fair.”

Dean chuckled, knowing his flirting wasn’t going to score him any points. “Okay, well, send me Bela’s info and I’ll keep you posted. But if we can’t convince Pam, I don’t think we’ll be able to convince the whole world, ya know?”

You nodded and inhaled through your nose. “Right. I’ll start poking to make it seem I’m being nosy too, help build your case.”

“Good thinking. Okay, get out of here, I need to rest my voice for tomorrow.”

Your head popped up. “It’s Annie day?!”

“It’s Annie day.”

You dragged your legs out of the water, shaking them off before standing on the stone tiles. “Oh, man, I can’t wait to hear this album.  It’s already gonna be my favorite, I know it.” 

Dean’s chest tightened at your words, knowing what the songs already meant to him. “We’ll see, got a couple more weeks before we’ll be totally done.”

“I can’t wait! Please, pretty please, take pictures tomorrow? I know she’s kind of a secret for now, but I want to be able to share behind the scenes shots once we announce she’ll be touring too.”

Dean twisted and rested his chin against his forearms, watching you walk back towards the house. “Done. Need a ride home?” 

“I’ll get a ride, don’t worry about me tonight. I did kind of gatecrash dinner.”

“Yeah, but you brought pie.”

“Know your audience, one of the first things they teach you in beginning marketing, man.”

“That degree was money well spent, huh?”

You rolled your eyes and let your shoulders droop. “Don’t turn into a prune. I’ll text you.”

Dean waved. “Let me know when you get home, okay?”

“Yes, mom.” And with that you closed the door behind yourself. Dean watched through the glass as you grabbed your phone and your bag and placed your ride request. Sam must have been watching something in the den because Dean saw as he followed you towards the front door.

Dean couldn’t help but worry after you, but as protective as he was, parental was never going to be how he saw you.

Tagging: @deans-spinster-witch@mrswhozeewhatsis@cosicas-cuquis@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like@suckitands33@ladysparkles78@deans-baby-momma@stoneyggirl2@sassy-pelican@leigh70

Chapter Five: Fermata

[blingusdlingus]

The Start of the Post-Modern Sonic Era

As time passes... Sonic Frontiers feels unreal to me. I still feel the psychic ripples that game made in the minds of thousands. Hearing about the physics nonstop. the buzzwords echoed in my brain for months... the rips at the English script-writing. It drove me to near madness. It was hard talking to people who weren't as deep in it as I was at that time... But I look back these days and I can't help but feel like the madness was exactly what I wanted. I can't make peace with this game like many others have, but I can't hate this game, I can't act like I'm indifferent to it. It did something to me that I can't dissect into a science. I don't feel like it's fair to try and categorize the feelings I have about it's writing into the set of ideals I've made for what I want these characters to be. I can't rule this one out... it broke the stagnant mold for me. An "Open-Zone" Sonic game with hyper-realistic environments, patch-worked with floating platforms and rails in the sky, janky camera movements and overtly flashy attacks for an unbalanced combat system, reused level design for one minute stages, hamfisted self-referential dialogue that had me groaning at points, a narrative that felt spread thin and disjointed, answering questions that didn't need answering. And it didn't even have Momentum. And yet... it is everything to me. AND NOW FOR THE CHILDHOOD HISTORY OF BLINGUS For the 20 years I've been alive, about 18 of those years I have spent with this deeply rooted attachment to Sonic. I was deeply fortunate as my cousin and my half-brother both had a Genesis with each of their own collection of games respectively, which of course, meant a lot of Sonic games. I was also gifted with having two brothers, who I dubbed as "the one with the GameCube" and "the one with the PS2". From age 2 (2006) to age 6 (2010), I had already created formative memories with the following: Sonic 1 Sonic 2 Sonic Underground Sonic 3D Blast Sonic Rush Sonic Chronicles: The Dark Brotherhood Sonic Spinball Dr. Robotnik's Mean Bean Machine Sonic Heroes Sonic CD Sonic Adventure DX Sonic X Shadow The Hedgehog Sonic Rush Adventure Sonic Riders Sonic Unleashed Sonic Colors

These aren't even counting the games and shows I had learnt of online as a child who ABSOLUTELY shouldn't of been on the internet at such a young age but I digress. I just want to highlight the sheer amount of Sonic I took in in that time-frame. I think this chapter in my life planted the ideals that I hold to this very day, even throughout the madness. The problem is that... I don't even truly know what those ideals are. As I've grown I've played these games countless times, along with every game coming out after. I read the comics, I watched the shows, I got invested into the rom-hacking scene, and from there, the Fangame scene. My life changed and grew and my opinions of these games have shifted time and time and time again. Those roots never grew dry for me though, and I feel as if I owe my young self a lot for making memories with these games. Maybe it's a fear of losing innocence? It could be because I'm autistic as fuck? Maybe it's just love. Love for what these games represent for me, Love for what could've been. Loving it for what it is, what it was, loving it because people made it and that's all that matters. Loving to draw it, to find why others love it, and to open my mind to interpretation. Loving it to hate it, to write about it and talk to your friend's about it. To find out what made it tick, what's been lost over the years and how it's found again. Loving it because Super Sonic is raw as fuck and Shadow likes nu-metal hell yeah Oh yeah this was about Sonic Frontiers Well okay yeah the game is kinda mid but It's raw as hell and it's representation of growth and change is as prevalent in the narrative as it is in the eyes of the people. It made a ripple. Did Sonic Lost World make a ripple? Yes it did you fucking asshole

[dc-said-bi-robin-rights]

“Never has my father ever…” Steph pauses, tries to think of something her father did to her that even Rose’s dad wouldn’t do. “…left me alone with a creepy middle-aged friend.”

Rose chuckles dryly. “Does it count if he’s the creepy middle-aged friend?”

Dammit, she didn’t think of that. “…sure?”

Wordlessly, Rose raises the bottle—vodka, the second tonight, Steph notes distantly—to her lips and takes a long swig.

Steph doesn’t press.

“My turn,” Rose says, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She sits up, a strange kind of eagerness on her face. “Never has my father ever… tried to make me choose between him and one of my siblings.”

“That doesn’t count,” Steph protests immediately, as if this is a game, as if… whatever this is has rules. “I don’t have siblings.”

“What about the other Bats?”

“Not my siblings. Ew.”

“Fair enough,” Rose concedes, and up goes the bottle again for no reason at all. Steph is starting to think she doesn’t get the game. “Then how about… hold on, do versions from alternate universes count?”

Steph’s reply is immediate. “No.” Whatever this is, it’s confusing enough without bringing multiversal variants into it—not that her father is important or complex enough to have substantially different multiversal variants, but still. “Let’s stick to our universe only, please.”

Rose shrugs, discarding what she was about to say as easily as she discarded her first bottle—which Steph is going to have to look for later, now that she’s thought about it. With her luck, it probably rolled under the bed. “Fine. Then how about… never has my father ever—ooh, this is a good one—payed a bunch of complete strangers to pretend to be my long-lost maternal family as a present.”

Steph blinks, cause what. “Huh?”

“I know, right?” Bottle, again. Steph’s getting annoyed… and maybe a little worried. “Talk about mixed signals.”

“You can’t just say something like that and not expect me to want a follow-up.”

Rose just shrugs. And then she takes—what a surprise!—another swig from the bottle, just for good measure. As if she hadn’t already made it throughly clear she doesn’t care about Steph’s opinion.

It’s like she’s trying to piss Steph off.

Steph opens her mouth, a scathing, alcohol-induced retort that will probably ruin the whole night already on her lips, before she is thankfully interrupted by a figure swinging into the room through the shadowy window near the back. Rose startles, but Steph grabs her arm, stopping her from tackling the new arrival before she can reveal herself. She really should’ve warned Rose that there was another person joining them.

“Hey, Cass,” Steph calls out to the shadowy figure, a smile in her voice. Steph had told her to at least knock on the window before entering on account of Rose’s presence, but she neglects to bring it up in favor of greeting her friend. “Back early?”

—

A few quick hand signs that Rose can’t make out—she’s getting better at ASL for Joey’s sake, but she’s not even close to fluent yet—and Cassandra is sitting on the floor with them, a red plastic cup filled with something that is probably not alcoholic clutched tightly in her hands. Usually, she’d complain that non-alcoholic drinks ruined the whole point of ‘drinking games’, but the words die in her throat when Cassandra turns to her and raises a pointed eyebrow. Fine. If she feels that strongly about it, Bat Bitch can drink orange juice from a sippy cup for all Rose cares. It’s not like it matters.

—

“Never has my father ever…” Cass starts slowly, deliberately trying to imitate Steph’s inflection in order to get the words out easier, “… shot me. As… practice.”

Rose drinks. Steph hesitates.

“Shot at me?” she asks, remembering the times she tried to apprehend her father before he knew she was Spoiler—and after, now that she thinks about it. “Or shot me?”

Cass frowns. “Shot me.”

Steph racks her brain, trying to think of a time when any of the bullets connected. She doesn’t think there is one.

(Huntress had taken one of those bullets for her, hadn’t she? Damn. She doesn’t think she ever thanked her for that. She should say something next time she bumps into the Birds)

After a pause, she decides not to drink. Which means it her turn again. Joy.

“Never has my father ever…” she hesitates, but only briefly. “… kidnapped me.”

All three of them drink. It should be funny. It’s not.

“Let’s drink once for every time it’s happened,” Rose says as an afterthought, tilting the bottle in Steph’s and Cass’ direction and smirking. “I bet mine’s bigger than yours.”

Steph doubts that. “You’re on.”

Cass drinks twice. Rose drinks three times. Steph drinks four times.

Then, after a pause, five.

Then, after another pause—this time to get another cup—six.

And then seven.

And then eight.

And then nine.

(Rose looks impressed. Cass just looks concerned)

“Don’t ask.” Steph grunts and slaps her chest in an effort to hold back a burp. She isn’t sure who she’s talking to, only that she means the words. “It’s none of your business.”

They nod. After all, asking is not part of the game. They established that at some point.

She thinks.

Truth be told, everything’s kinda fuzzy at the moment. Maybe she should slow down.

(She doesn’t)

“Never has my father ever,” Rose drawls some time later, after both she and Steph are more drunk than recommended, “slept with one of his childrens’ partners.”

Steph blinks. Cass stares.

Rose huffs drunkenly. “Don’t look at me like that. He did it to Joey, not to me.”

Like that made it better.

“That doesn’t count,” Cass says, surprisingly.

Rose scowls. “Yes it does.”

Cass scowls back. “It doesn’t,” she insists.

“Says who?”

“Says we,” Steph slurs, backing her friend up. “It has to be something he did to you. You’d have an unfair advantage otherwise.”

Rose mutters something under her breath that makes Cass frown, but moves on without much fuss. “Fine. Never has my father ever… watched me sleep.”

Steph tilts her head carefully, feeling dread pool in her stomach. “What do you mean?”

“You heard me,” Rose sneers. There’s an edge to her voice, and Steph sits up when she realizes it’s barely-hidden desperation. “Don’t tell me I’m the only one.”

The back of Steph’s throat starts itching. “Just… watches you?”

Rose crosses her arms. “That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

Cass doesn’t drink. Steph doesn’t either. A shadow passes over Rose’s face.

“Don’t tell me I’m the only one,” she repeats, and yep, that’s definitely desperation in her voice. “Seriously?”

Steph’s hands are tingling. After Terra, there have always been rumors about Deathstroke, but… “Rose…”

“Seriously?” Rose asks again, laughing, and it’s the ugliest sound Steph’s ever heard. “Score one for dad, I guess.”

It’s Cass who tries to speak next. “Wh-”

Rose’s arms snaps like a whip as she suddenly throws the bottle on the ground. Instinct alone prompts Cass and Steph to throw themselves back, shocked, even as Rose stands up and grabs her jacket from the couch. A single rivulet of blood runs down her face from a shard of glass the width of Steph’s middle finger embedded into her jaw just below the cheekbone, but she barely seems to notice as she shoulders her jacket and turns towards the exit. “Forget it,” she sneers over her shoulder, and Steph only now understands why people call Rose volatile. “This was stupid anyway.”

Steph finds herself stumbling after Rose and grabbing ahold of her sleeve, even as Cass signs to let her go. “Rose, wait.”

Rose shoves her away, harder than necessary. “Get off me.”

Steph stumbles back, but catches herself on the edge of the couch. “What the hell’s your problem?”

The daughter of Deathstroke whirls around, her white hair wraithlike in the light of the moon. Her one blue eye pins Steph in place with such intensity, with such vitriol, that Steph’s breath hitches, and she finds she’s not entirely sure who the person in front of her is.

“My problem?” Her voice is raw, and something not at all like a laugh bubbles up from her throat. It’s the sound of someone who has ripped their soul bare under a misassumption; it’s the sound of a girl who tore the darkest, most well-kept secret she had from her chest only to find out that the people around her were not peers at all. It’s the kind of laugh an addict might make after finding out that their AA meetings were staffed by undercover cops, the kind of incredulous, numb chuckle that might come out of a person finding out their long-lost family were paid actors the entire time. It’s an ugly sound, and Steph decides she never wants to hear it again. “God, I was so stupid. I thought—neither of you…” she trails off with a frustrated groan, then turns, slamming the door behind her as she leaves.

The two of them are left standing there, staring at the door uncomprehendingly, for more seconds than Steph is willingly to admit.

“We need to go after her,” Steph says eventually, her voice distant even to her own ears.

“Yes,” Cass agrees.

Neither of them moves.

[actionsurges]

hiya! I really appreciate a lot of your takes on D&D and DMing, and was wondering if you have tips or advice for the more improvisational/spur-of-the-moment aspects of being a DM? I'm interested in DMing a campaign but I'm worried about being able to respond to players' whack-ass choices on the fly in a way that's organic and non-railroad-y -- it feels as though the best DMs I've had are able to "improv" on the spot and come up with imagery or encounters or things for players to do if/when needed, and I'm not quite sure if I'm cut out for that, if that makes sense 😅 thanks for any advice!

spur of the moment / improv is something that was really hard for me to learn and to be honest i still don't think it's one of my strengths. i have a few tips and suggestions but i also just want to say, there is no real thing of "rail-roading" unless your players are unhappy, if you tell people "hey i actually don't have something prepped for that" above table there's a good chance they'll go "oh sorry" and you can nudge them in the direction you DO have preparation for so they have a story to engage with. i think above table conversation is just important as in game signposting as a dm

that being said here are a few tips that i think could help what you're getting at:

i don't prep a session or a linear plot, i prep an area. i've made a post here about what it looks like on a Storytelling level but this is sort of what it looks like in my notes:

specifically i learned that writing descriptions IS important for me but it's also important to be able to improv them and not work entirely off of a script, which is why you can see my descriptions is a blend of descriptive writing and then also actual lore.

i also have done this in the past and will probably bring it back for longer projects where i create a little box that has sensory descriptions that fit the setting and tone that i can refer back to

let your players describe their characters actions and spellcasting, especially in combat. you can encourage this by asking "what does x look like?" it's really exciting as a player to get to take that into your own hands and it is also one less thing to worry about while running combat.

throw out everything you think you should do. your favorite actual play dm's style? who cares, your cool dm's style? throw that one out too. you can take as much advice from people, can emulate other people's styles, take in as much information as you possibly can, but part of dming is figuring out what works for you. i am still constantly figuring out better ways for my brain to dm and different ways to organize information. i share the way i dm because i think it's WORTH putting out there, not because i think it will work for every single person. but even if there are a few things you see that a dm does that you like, That's Enough to start building your own foundation. don't be too hard on yourself.

if you need a second to prep something in the middle of campaign that you weren't expecting, you can SAY that. in the middle of combat on my halloween oneshot my players wanted to do something that was CERTAINLY not RAW but it was cool enough that i was like "yeah give me a second and i'll figure out how i think a fair way to do this mechanically is. this is going to be high risk high reward and might really fuck up your characters though, you good with that?" and everyone gave me the okay, so in the middle of session i spent about 5-10 minutes coming up with rules for a VERY difficult combined skill check and the tiered consequences that may occur depending on how poorly the party did. you're allowed to take a second to go say "hey i didn't think you'd pick a fight, lemme go get some statblocks. i don't have a map, we're doing this theater of the mind"

i know this was my first bullet point but because i'm talking about it at the end again above table communication is just as if not more important than in game signposting, hoping your players will recognize the hints you're dropping, if you think they're not getting it, just say it out right.

improv is super daunting and its still something i get stuck on occasionally. don't be too hard on yourself and find what works for you. dming is EXTREMELY fun, it is also work, but i think one of the things that makes dming harder than it needs to be is this expectation for perfection. you're a player at the table too and you're managing MORE than the players are. it is okay to have to take a second and to not have a perfect answer for everything.

just like 9/10 dms aren't trying to be malicious when they do something that accidentally upsets a player, 9/10 players aren't trying to be a pain for their dm and you can say 'hey i don't have an answer' or 'can we get to that later'

happy to lend my opinion if you have any questions about dming and i'd also direct you to my dm tag which is my own misadventures in dming and my own posts about dming

[stagred]

MEDIA THAT INSPIRES MY VERSION OF ALASTOR!

Shawshank Redemption: Andy Dufresne. The themes of accepting your fate. Man imprisoned for a crime he didn't commit becomes a criminal to survive in prison, but still suffers immensely and makes close and passionate friends. Realizes that prison is where he thrives, yet craves freedom and spends nearly 20 years fighting for it

Candyman: Tony Todd's portrayal. Powerful, terrifying eldritch being. Tall, handsome, well dressed, eloquent. In a moment where bees are swarming in his mouth, he kisses the heroine with such divine passion that you almost forget the horror. But also themes of Black suffering, exacting revenge because you need to, not because you want to. Romance as a detriment, a disadvantage, not something to fight for.

SE7EN: Violent and creative crimes committed to force attrition. Embodying sin and punishing it. "People these days, you cant just tap them on the shoulder anymore. You have to hit them over the head with a sledgehammer. And then you'll find… you have their strict attention." Neon crosses, sex and debauchery, the underbelly of a city. The unnamed city that doesn't exist, but everyone can identify. "Mankind is good, and worth fighting for. I agree with the second part."

We Happy Few: Using happiness and suppression to hide your trauma. Attacking those who don't conform. The sinister fear behind every over-stretched smile. 60s vibes, but forever tainted by 30s and 40s events because the people never moved onward. Muttering to oneself in mourning of the memories you cant remember forgetting.

Bioshock: "No gods or kings, only man." Freedom of expression, but a violent hatred of the beings who control it regardless of the context they're in, like religion and education. Sander Cohen. Art at any cost. Transformation, puppets on strings, playing your part on a stage and diverting from the script. The neon glow of the 60s nightlife, but waterlogged and destroyed by time.

It Follows: A creeping monster that can only walk, but will never stop. Pass it on through acts of sex and debauchery. Vibrant red blood in a glowing blue pool from an entity you can't even see that you injured.

Matilda The Musical: Agatha Trunchbull. "The Smell Of Rebellion." Hatred of those weaker than you to an almost comical degree. Cleverness and loopholes in rules. Hurting people back, because why should you be the bigger person? "A contract is a contract is a contract!"

Carrie The Musical: Voice breaking during emotional numbers. "Eve Was Weak." Religious trauma manifesting physically. Covered in blood and surrounded by fire. "Mother was right."

The Shining: All work and no play makes Alastor a dull boy. Being held hostage by the narrative, regardless of if you're doomed by it. Blood cascading through the halls. "I'm not gonna hurt you… I'm just gonna bash your fucking brains in!" The empty ballroom, the bartender who isn't there.

The Green Mile: Killing a miracle. Percy Wetmore. Burning people alive just to see what might happen. Weeping as you sing "Cheek To Cheek" and face the reaper. Clutching the bodies of two little girls and crying to the heavens because it isn't fucking fair.

The Black Phone: The masks. "It's his favorite game: good boy, bad boy." The phone that doesn't work, and the calls that keep coming in. Little boys floating in the air, throats slit, begging for help. Jesus as a deity to worship for divination. The entire kitchen scene. (CW for child abuse)

Coraline: Forced smiles. Eating bugs like candy. "He pulled a looooong face, and Mother didn't like that." The Other Mother. "She'd love something to eat. / Mothers don't eat… daughters. / I dunno. how do you taste?" Watching victims through the dolls.

Welcome To Night Vale: The specific sense of melancholy and nostalgia that just listening to the podcast inflicts upon the listener. The radio host as the protector of the city.

The Princess and the Frog: Facilier. Friends on the other side. Voodoo in all its forms. "Fun thing about voodoo, Larry. Can't conjure a thing for myself."

[accidentalbi]

pinterest quotes that make me feel an indescribable itch in my brain

" Weird hill to die on, but at least you're dead. "

" In a fight, they're lethal. Around each other, they melt. "

" Two broken souls scarred with the wounds from their demons, playing a dangerous game of trust and love. "

" Have you ever seen the hell in someone's eyes and loved it anyway? "

" Breathe through the fear and walk through the fire. "

" I sat and sat. Something was wrong inside me. I felt it inside my stomach and I didn't know what to do. So I laid down on the floor. "

" I aim to be lionhearted, but my hands still shake and my voice isn't quite loud enough. "

" Every angel is terrifying. "

" I'm extremely devout, but nobody can figure out what I'm worshipping. "

" Evolution was a mistake. I want fangs. "

" The eighth deadly sin is actually being mean to me, but they keep that one a secret. "

" My house is haunted because I live here. "

" She has angel eyes, the devil's grin, and tattered wings. "

" I don't study, I consult the lore. "

" If I cannot bend Heaven, I will raise Hell. "

" Your movements are so cryptic and wraith-like. You've got, like, a precise and deadly energy. You seem unkillable. "

" The horrors may be beyond your comprehension, but I comprehend them perfectly. "

" This man can't be fixed. I can fuck him, though. Maybe that will calm him down. "

" Finally the demon is down and looking peaceful. "

" I'll fuck you eventually, relax. Let me be funny first. "

" I want him broken. I want him resentful and tired. I want him uncontrollable with anger and vengeance. I want him irreversibly unhinged. "

" Oldest daughters are some of the toughest men you'll ever meet. "

" Throw me to the wolves and I'll come back leading the pack. "

" I know she is unhinged, responsible for multiple atrocities, and a danger to herself and others. But have you ever considered that she is tiny, and sad, and I love her? "

" Hold the fuck up. I'm the fuck up. Hold me. "

" I wasn't born to be soft and quiet. I was born to make the world shake at my fingertips. "

" You can use a spear as a walking stick, but that will not change its nature. "

" Is this what I get for loving a god? "

" You're a little tragedy, aren't you? "

" You and I both know this ends in blood. "

" They made you into a weapon and told you to find peace. "

" Nobody smart plays fair. "

" Anything you can do, I can do bleeding. "

" You want battle? I'll give you war. "

" I saw magic in his eyes. Dirty, dark, beautiful magic. "

" You're a weapon, and weapons don't weep. "

" I fear no evil. The shadow is mine, and so is the valley. "

" What doesn't kill me better run. "

" I might be a sinner and I might be a saint. "

" Not a god's chosen, but a god's cursed. "

" Sir, that's my emotional support knife collection. "

" What, pray tell, the fuck. "

" We can simultaneously be human and monster. Both of those possibilities are in all of us. "

" Looking half a corpse and half a god. "

" Be the reason why the lights flicker when you enter a room. "

" I don't take orders. I barely take suggestions. "

" The question isn't who is going to let me; it's who is going to stop me. "

" I like storms. They let me know that even the sky screams sometimes. "

" Are you praying again? How raw are your knees? How often will you repent? "

" The hands that cradled your face and tilted it upwards to kiss your forehead are soaked in unfathomable quantities of blood. "

" Loyal to few, ruled by none. "

" If this is to end in fire, then we will all burn together. "

" Am I a boy? Am I a girl? It doesn't matter. I'm going to burn your house down. "

" I hate when people ask me what sign I am. Bitch, I'm a sign from god, start running. "

" His grin was always halfway a smile and halfway a threat. "

" The fastest way to a man's heart is by tearing a hole through his ribcage. "

" Crooked grins, sly hands, and one dangerous voice. "

" True evil is, above all things, seductive. "

" Bite the vampire first to establish dominance. "

" My immense self-hatred vs my delusional god complex. "

" I'm not in danger. I'm the danger. "

" Bare those teeth and snarl, baby. "

" This howl… isn't from a dog. "

" You want to play dirty? Fine. Let's play dirty. "

" Your hands are scarred from murder and yet I trust them completely. "

" You got a taste for blood when you were licking your own wounds. "

" Rome wasn't built in a day. But it burned in one. "

" I like to have powerful enemies. Makes me feel important. "

" How many centuries deep is your wound? "

" Just like the moon, half of my heart will always love the dark. "

" I don't think you're truly mean. You have sad eyes. "

" It is not Hell if you like the way it burns. "

" The sun watches what I do, but the moon knows all my secrets. "

" Yes, it's dangerous. That's why it's fun. "

" Fuck therapy, I'm becoming a knight. "

" Only a monster can deal with another monster. "

" Some old wounds never truly heal, and bleed again at the slightest word. "

" I could set this world on fire and call it rain. "

" I swing both ways. Violently. With a bat. Come get some, motherfuckers. "

" I suck at apologies, so unfuck you… or whatever. "

" Ah, there he is. That motherfucker. "

" I love you is a death sentence in my mouth. "

" It scares me sometimes, the emptiness I see in my eyes. "

" You walk a fine line between beautifully macabre and uncharacteristically psychotic. "

" He smelled of strawberries and depression. "

" Let's cause a little trouble. "

" Keep your head high and your middle finger higher. "

" Get in, loser, we're living past the end of our myth. "

" We sin as devils, we love as angels. "

" Like it's my fault my love language is acts of service and all I know how to do is kill. "

" I have learned that pleasing everyone is impossible, but pissing everyone off is easy and funny as hell. "

" Liking angels in an atheist kinda way. They're just pigeons to me. "

" Why the fuck am I not a slightly ominous forest entity that you only see out of the corner of your eye on a foggy day? "

" Maybe we can find out what the hell your problem is over dinner sometime. "

" Cute first date ideas -- hand to hand combat. "

" Third base is me telling you about my father. "

" Honey, I… bought us matching swords. "

" Family isn't who you're born with. It's who you die for. "

" RIP to everyone killed by the gods for their hubris, but I'm different. And better. Maybe even better than the gods. "

" I'm not really a househusband or a housewife, I'm more like a house beast. I'm in your walls, causing mysteries and stealing your things. "

[relax-and-read-on]

Math, please provide an outline for that Planet Swap AU. This is sending endorphins to my brain. And I need any excuse to write my version but I lack the confidence to do it without some or even any outside validation.

*crawl out of my hole*

Hey hey hey!!! I am back to making text post, I miss them too much lmao.

So! First of all, this planet swap auwas brainstormed with my lovely friend @chemos-factories , who gave me free reign to start yelling about it. So! Without waiting....

Primarch, planet swap edition:

Fulgrim, the flower of Nuceria: To start things up, let's go with the first one we came up with, Fulgrim! He had the horrible, horrible luck to be send on that planet... And to be too pretty for the fighting pit. Since his childhood, he was a pleasure slave for the high rider, sitting like a pretty adornment at their arms as he watched the people fight and dies in the arena. He tried to revolt, and almost succeeded... But he was recaptured in the end. And instead of installing the nails, the bastards on that planet figured out how to take away his biggest weapon: his voice. They removed his vocal cords, rendering him mute. He still is a prideful, elegant, spiteful bastard, and now that he is free, he will never bow down to another master ever again.

Ferrus, the blacksmith of Caliban: Ferrus was very lucky, as in, his pod was found by peasant out in the forest, looking for food. The old tales of Caliban would talk of little children abandoned in the forest by the fair folk, and he was welcomed into their home. His father was a blacksmith, and he learned the trade with him. But always, he was attracted to the forest. It's also where he met a dragon fallen from the sky, with a strange body of metal. He still slayed the beast, but his arms became strange after, covered in metal. Due to his feat, he became a page, and eventually became the most legendary knight of the planet, even his is gruff peasant attitude was often criticize by the noble knights house.

Magnus , the wild witch of Medusa: Magnus grew up very, very lonely. He had a craving, to meet other people, to see others, and yet he was always alone. But from a young age, through his loneliness, object around him would sometime start to glow, and animate themself, become his companions and friends. Magnus himself had no real comprehension of how he did those miracle, they came to him naturally. He would make fire appear in his palms and thunder rumble from the sky. Strange automata, animated by the wrap, would follow him around, and he would sleep under the star, dreaming of far away place, full of green and people.

Perturabo, the builder of Chemos: if anyone was in a perfect environment... It was Pert. He ended up on a planet size game of Satisfactory. Automations, mechanisation, optimisation- all of it were almost a game to him. By the time Big E was there, he had probably created of megapolis that was planet size. Fully self sufficient and automated, he started importing that concept to almost every planet he put under compliance. Think retro-futurism, jetson style. He was also often fighting with the mechanicus, creating quite a lot of tension between the two groups.

Horus, the Gangster of Nostramo: Horus was lucky. As a baby, he was found by people, and adopted, and raised in a loving, if poor family. But he saw the horrible corrupt system around him... And decided that he would be on top. He joined a gang, and climbed the rank, establishing his own empire in blood and fear, becoming the leader of the largest and most terrifying criminal syndicate on the planet. Rules are just suggestion in his eyes. To him, real power is being able to impose your will on others, and he has very few morals and what he would not do.

Corvus, the free spirit of Chogoris: In mongolian tradition, hunting eagles are an important animal. The legend say that baby corvus was found, because a large eagle screamed until the hunters came to discover her. She love the birds, and feel a deep, wild connection to them. Some say that they spy for her, that they would flew above the cities snd come back, whispering secrets. Other said that she could turn into mist and fly away with her beloved friends. In truth, she was mostly using her power, to hide and disappear, and strategy to take down the walled cities.

Konrad, The Oracle of Maccrage: Konrad Curze, this time around, get a happy story. His pod was found, and brought to Konnor and Euten, who immediately adopted the small baby with strange eyes. Quickly, they discovered that their sons had strange power, as their sons would go into fits and see the future, or wake up crying from nightmare of horrible visions. But always, his parents were there, reassuring him: he was burdened with a wonderful gift, a precious power that would help him make the world a better place, and they would always help him fight those apocalyptic visions of the future. As such, he was able to avoid the coup to assassinate his father, and became a symbol of hope and justice on his planet. He is an original, a little weirdo who babble about destiny and doesn't like clothes much, but he is, for once, loved.

Sanguinius, the cryptid of Fenris: the people of Fenris have a legend. Of a winged beastman, living in the mountains. It would slay wolves and bath in their blood, and sometime devour hunter that strayed too far in his territory. All his life, Sanguinius was hunted, feared and hated, by the people of Fenris. He was a wild creature, spoken of in legends, and had to be captured by the emperor himself, to finally become a human, and not a beast.

Mortarion, prince of Prospero: Morty, this time around, get the life he deserve. A kingly positions, love, family, educations... He learned to use his power, never feared them for a minute. But among the intellectual, his interest were seens as odd: he had a strange fascination for flora, and the way plants were linked to the wrap. Under his skilled hands, entire desserts could bloom into brilliant forest, humming with power. Such a strong link was sure to attract mysterious entities....

Lorgar, son of the Emperor on Terra: Lorgar, in a perfect roll of dice, went where Alpharius was suppose to go: right back home. He was raised by the Emperor and Malcador, and all his childhood, had a deep need to please his father, for him to pay attention to him. He is a skilled diplomate, knowing perfectly well how to navigate the high lords and politic of Terra, and would follow any order that his beloved father give him, blindly.

Leman, the Dog of Delivrance: Leman, even at an early age and away from any animals, had the instinct of a wolf. From a very young age, he would listen to the political dissident, and assimilate their belief. The good of the pack was important. They were all, in a way, part of his pack, and he should protect them all. He developed an extreme collectivist streak, and from then on, was a ride or die political activist and extremist. Every human life lost that could be prevented was a tragedy, and every soul mattered. They were all part of his pack. He is fiercely protective of his people, from the most noble of astarte, to the lowest ranked serf. Democratic voting should be applied in all major decisions, and he fully accept to be put in question.

Jaghatai, the barbarian of Baal: Jaghatai had the luck to lend on the mad max world, and he flourished there. He quickly was able to conquer most of his planet, and in general, was a proud road warrior, standing atop a roaring engine and smiling like a maniac, painted in the blood of his enemies. Hemight have encouraged and developed a cult toward motors and machine, wich fully developed into a mechanicus adjacent religion once they joined the imperium.

Rogal, the stolen child of Nocturne: Rogal Dorn was found on Nocturne, and very well loved by his parents, from a very young age. The problem was that, as a pre-teen, a dark eldar raid happened... And Roval was taken in as a slave. The following years were, for him, incredibly harrowing, especially since the drukhari were fascinated by this strange human that would heal fast and grow bigger than others. Still, they did not expect the white haired human to one day brake his chain, escape, and lead the slave of Commorragh into a large, open scale revolt. He was able to escape back into real space, with a large group of slave, and go back home, where he was seen as an hero. From that day onward, he became the terror of the Drukhari, as he swore to purge the galaxy of their race.

Roboute, the patient King of Barbarus: Roboute had... An horrible early life. You know what he endured. But when he was finally able to go down into the valley, to meet up humans, he promissed himself: he would clean the very air of his planet, and destroy the very mountains upon wich the monsters resided. He slowly, surely pushed the populations toward an industrial revolution, establishing large mines into those mountains, figuring out how dynamite itself worked, as he, slowly, prepared to force his own father down into the valleys.

Alpharius and Omegon, the Trickster of Ctonia: The twin were lucky- they were together. Not separated by anything or anyone. They never joined any of the numerous street gang, but instead become some sort of local legend, a vigilante hero, fighting corruption and crimes in the alley and protecting the people. Them being twins gave them an almost supernatural advantage, as they seemed to be everywhere at once, able to see everything. Their ability to pass as normal was also insanely usefull to their crime fighting Endeavor.

Vulkan, the revolutionary of Olympia: Vulkan, from a young age, was close to his sister. But he was also close to all the servent in the palace, and would often sneak out, to talk to the people, and realised early on that his own father was, well... A Dictator. And he did not like that discovery. He was emphatic, and did not see why they needed slaves, or why Calliphone could not rule the city, or why war was necessary! He started talking to the people... And they listened to him. More and more followed him, until he had fermented a full on revolution against his own father. His populist movement grew and spread to other cities, and quickly, his planet became a people's republic, and he had the pride to see his sister, who ha supported him every step on the way there, be elected first Chancellor of Olympia.

Lion, the Tyrant of Colchis: Lion was, in this world, found by Kor Phaeron... But also quickly adopted his way of thinking. He saw religions as a way to stay on top, a tool of power. He would readily conspire with the people around him, seeing assassinations as a completely valid way of asserting dominations. He never actually quite believed in the gods, but saw them as a useful tool, better than any law text to enforce one's will on the masses.

Angron, the Light of Inwit: Angron was dropped into a brutal world. It was not a cruel one per say, but it was one were you had to be dtrong to survive. And Angron, who could feel and take the pains of others unto himself... Could never accept such a situation. Their societydid not have to be as cold as the planet they inhabited, and he fought to establish to change all his life, backed by his beloved grandfather.

[nogenderbee]

Your hand for Childe, Heizou, Yae Miko win

You were rambling about TCG to your friend a lot lately, and they suggested a little competition which of course you taked gladly

⊱ from your stories it sounded like something similiar to sparing but instead of using muscles you have to use your brain, and Childe was up for the challange!

⊱ after you explained the rules to him he almost immidietly suggested a duel

"I understand so what if we... gamble a little? Well if I win then I receive your hand in marriage and if you win you can choose what you want. Up for the challange, comrade?"

⊱ let me just tell you that he gives his best in this duel, he seriously want's to marry you, it's not just so he can show off or treat you like a slave, he wants to live a happy live with you

⊱ if he wins, his ego just grew and he's more than ready for his reward

"Haha! It looks like I won! So YN, I know it's already set but I still prefer to ask" that's when he goes on one knee in front of you "Will you marry me? I know it was the deal but I want to be truly happy with you so I'm still ready to accept denial"

⊱ although if he loses he's a little disappointed but accepts the failure

"I see... just for you to know I WILL get my revenge! But a deal is a deal, what's the prize you want?"

⊱ if it's money he's willing to pay, after all it's really not a problem to him, if it's something romantic he might ask you for a remach on the spot with the same prize on line

⊱ when you introduced TCG to Heizou, he acted like he had no idea something like that existed but in reality he's well aware of this game and even won a couple matches himself

"It sounds like interesting game! Would you like to play with me? If so then how about we put a prize on the line to make the match more intense? Then if I win I get to marry you and if you win... you can have whatever you want from me, what would you say?"

⊱ did you saw his detective skills? He definitely uses them to predict your next move, and it actually helps him a lot!

⊱ you would have to be SUPER good at TCG to beat him so if he won, he's really confident about his abilities but also feels a little bad for not telling you earlier about him wonning TCG matches before

"Hehe, I think you know what this menas YN, so is there anything specific you want on our wedding~?"

⊱ but if you somehow win he's a little suprised by the fact that you beat him but at the same time he saw it coming around half of your match

"Well congratulations YN, you beat a detective in logic game, you should be proud! So what is that prize you want?"

⊱ if it's something like money or his help with something, he's willing to do it, but if it's something more romantic he definitely will pay more attention to you so he can find out if you like him as well

⊱ Yae Miko knew very well about TCG so when you started talking about matches you played, she also says couple of words about matches she played

"Since we both know what TCG is, what if we play a serious game? If you're worried about how serious let me just serious that our lives will be on the line? Oh don't worry nothing dangerous! I meant your hand in marriage if I win and if you win I will be your trustworthy companion!"

⊱ if you agree on that then good luck because she will try every trick in her book, going from just being smart to (minors or people who don't like suggestive stop reading here and start reading when you see 💗 emoji again) playing some dirty tricks on you

⊱ if you also play dirty let me just tell you that it's going to be very hard to fluster her and she might just fluster you even more, but if you somehow do just know that now you have higher chances of winning

⊱ but if you tell that she's cheating she will say that there's no rules saying anything about dirty play so she is actually playing fair

⊱ (💗 you can start reading again from here ^^) so if she won, she thinks that it's well deserved win, after all you sounded so confident about your abilities while telling your stories about TCG

"It looks like I won, and you know what that mean~! Is there any specific ring you want or should I just go with the one I think would suit you the most?"

⊱ although if you win, she's surprised by how good you are in this game, and that you managed to go through all her teasing that she gave for whole game

"My, my, congratulations YN, you just granted yourself a kitsune companion!"

⊱ if you would like her to just accompany you on your adventures, she will beat any enemy in a second, but if you ask to pet her ears or tail, you better ask her for that when she's in a good mood and she may enjoy it as well

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[rearranging-deck-chairs]

DOCTOR: I don't think it is. I think you smuggled it ahead of you. I think it located the randomly designated human for you. I think you broke the rules. Some leader you're going to make. Tim Shaw is a big blue cheat!

DOCTOR: Card. Card. Card. (she now has 6 in her hand) Snap! (Everyone laughs.) DOCTOR: Is that not the game?

DOCTOR: When does all this stop for you? The games, the betrayals, the killing?

DOCTOR: Fine, I'll play your game. I'll be back. MASTER: She won't. And it's not a game.

DOCTOR: And what did these operatives do? AWSOK: Anything we needed. Guided and shaped events. DOCTOR: Interfered! In contravention of all Time Lord directives.

DOCTOR: You lost. You gambled and you lost.

theres something to be said about 13s insistence about fairness- oh MY GOD. MISSED THE FIRST ONE.

DOCTOR: Yes. I'm glad you asked that again. Bit of adrenaline, dash of outrage, and a hint of panic knitted my brain back together. I know exactly who I am. I'm the Doctor. Sorting out fair play throughout the universe. Now please, get off this planet while you still have a choice. TZIM-SHA: I choose to win.

there IS something to be said and SHE said it first. i was gonna make a whole rambling post but i dont think it's necessary now actually. like,she said it i dont have to make this point

but like shes so insistent about playing fair. shes so INDIGNANT when people dont follow the rules theyve AGREED to. whether they made a deal with HER or just, someone else. tzim-sha agreed to some rules she was never even part of but he broke them and she Doesnt like that.

shes tired of the master's game but she KNOWS it. she knows it and she knows how to play it. until he stops playing and breaks everything. timelords break their OWN rules. theyre never fair. you cant win from someone who wont stick to even their own rules. despite herself, shes a timelord too