#and some man finds it. he finds it and devotes himself to solving it

[i-am-a-fan]

AND THE ROBOT??? HES NOT EVEN A REAL CHARACTER. NO MODEL. NO NOTHING. BUT HIS LORE HAUNTS ME. I SEE HIM IN ALL SONGS. HES HORROBLE. A TERRIBLE PERSON. BUT HIS LORE COMPELS ME SO AND HE DRIVES ME INSANE.

i hate that after a certain while of liking a really beloved character and having constant art and fanfics to read on them. my brain will be like, oh but remember? and then i’ll wake up in a ditch with 4 finished artworks and 2 1/3 fics about her.

[burningembers91]

The Beginning of Something Beautiful - Hwang In-Ho x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Follow up piece to: The Girl Next Door Kimchi Stew

Synopsis: When Hawng In-Ho's past is revealed, he must decide whether to continue living with his demons, or run towards the light.

Warnings: mentions of deceased wife, sexual content, 18+ only!

It’ll get easier over time. That’s what Hwang In-Ho had been told countless times by friends, family and even strangers after the death of his wife. He hadn’t believed them at first, hadn’t wanted to think of a world without her. But lately, he’d started to understand what they meant. Yes, the pain was still there, and maybe it always would be, but each day he found it a little easier to get out of bed. He’d started making friends at work, had begun exercising again and taking runs through the park he’d spent so long looking at from his apartment window. He was learning to laugh more, to smile at the small things and to find beauty in the everyday. He was slowly letting himself open up to you, showing you small snippets of the man he’d once been; the man who liked to tell jokes, who loved vintage cars, and who got overly competitive when it came to board games. He still hadn’t opened up about his past, but he was showing the man he truly was, not the grumpy hermit who shut himself away from the world.

In-Ho was still an enigma, some kind of handsome riddle you hadn’t been able to solve yet. He was spending more and more time at your apartment but stopped coming over under the guise of fixing things. He started to come over just to hang out, to watch TV or to go for a walk. He’d even invited you over to his apartment. The once bare room was now full of furniture, the walls repainted and decked out with paintings and prints. He’d cooked for you, proving himself to be an excellent chef. There were so many things still unspoken between you, but you were happy.

You could still hear him crying through the thin walls though, could still hear the turmoil he faced when the lights went out. You’d sworn you’d heard him say your name at times, his strangled groans as he fought with himself between his lust for you and his undying devotion to the woman he’d married. He was finding it harder to resist you, falling into an anguished cycle of dreaming about your touch, and punishing himself for thinking about another woman. You had slotted so nicely into his new life, the woman who had brought him back from the dead. He wanted to repay you for everything you’d done for him, but how could he when you didn’t know how much you’d saved him?

He was stacking shelves at work when you arrived, basket in hand as you did your weekly shop. You both smiled when you saw each other, In-Ho offering a small wave as he added another loaf of bread to the shelf. “Poor man,” an old lady tutted next to you. “Such a shame.” “I’m sorry?” you asked, looking at the wizened figure next to you, her head shaking as she watched In-Ho. “His wife died,” she explained, “liver failure. Killed her and their baby. It almost killed him.” You stared open-mouthed as she walked off, leaving you shellshocked. If it was true, it would explain so much about the man you’d come to care for so deeply. You had to force your feet to move you around the store, filling your basket in sickening silence as your mind reeled.

You couldn’t bring yourself to ask In-Ho about it, to ask whether his family had been so cruelly taken from him. it just wasn’t something you could casually slide into a conversation. You found it hard to concentrate at your next dinner, trying and failing to feign laughter at a story you hadn’t even heard him telling. All you could you see was a man whose family had been ripped from him. You wanted to hold his hand, to tell him everything would be ok. You’d spent so long thinking about whether your relationship would become something more than a friendship, and now you understood why it hadn’t.

Hwang In-Ho sensed the change in you, saw the pity in your eyes. Someone must have told you, must have tipped you off about his broken past. He knew it was Mrs Park. That old bat had never been able to resist gossip. He didn’t want to lose you, didn't want to risk you pulling away. he knew he needed to tell you about his past, knew he needed to come clean before you heard anything else. Every day he was finding it harder to remain alone. He was beginning to see a future with you, to see something other than the crushing loneliness he had resigned himself to.

Catching you one night as you entered your apartment, he invited you over for dinner. “You know about my… my wife,” he said, and he watched your eyes plummet to the floor. “Yes, sorry,” you admitted, “it was Mrs Park. You know what she’s like. Can’t resist a bit of gossip.” “I want to explain. There are things…” he didn’t know how to finish the sentence, didn’t know how to encompass his feelings into words. “Please join me for dinner,” he whispered. He hoped the desperation in his voice hadn’t been apparent. He didn’t want you to pity him, he’d spent enough time pitying himself. “Ok,” you smiled, “I’ll see you later.”

When you arrived that evening, In-Ho could feel his hands shaking. He’d prepared a feast, his small apartment filled with the scent of cooking and pine scented candles. You were so beautiful in your burgundy dress, clutching a bottle of wine in your hand as you entered. The dynamic had changed between the two of you yet again, and he was hoping tonight he could steer it in a more positive direction. He’d spent many a sleepless night wrestling with himself. He would always love his wife, but he couldn’t deny the life he wanted with you; the life he hoped you wanted to.

You drank wine, and ate dinner, and laughed as you both relaxed. He’d filled out over the last few months, his taut muscles visible through the fabric of his shirt. His smile and his eyes were a little brighter, and you found yourself getting lost in him as he told you story after story. “I’ve been so alone for such a long time,” he confessed. “I punished myself for something that wasn’t my fault.” He looked you dead in the eyes as he spoke the next words. “I love my wife, very much.” “I know you do,” you smiled sadly. You braced yourself for what was coming next, for the heartbreaking crush of rejection. “But… these last few months, they have meant more to me than you will ever know.” He downed the last of his wine for Dutch courage before continuing. “You have brought me so much joy, you’ve given me a reason to get out of bed every day. I had to keep finding reasons to see you, I had to keep pretending things in your apartment were broken because I didn’t know how else to tell you that I liked your company.” You laughed, your eyes glistening as you watch In-Ho expose his vulnerability. “I love my wife,” he repeated, “but you, I have feelings for you. Feelings I never thought I would feel again. I don’t want to deny myself happiness anymore. My family isn’t coming back, but I would be a fool if I didn’t try and make the best of my life. I’d like to try doing that with you, if you want me.”

Taking a deep breath, you braced your hands on the table. Tears streamed down both of your faces, both of you finding the courage to take the next step. “Yes,” you whispered, your voice hoarse with tears. “Yes, I’d like that.” In-Ho laughed, a sound that came from deep within his belly. He stood, pulling you from your chair and into his chest. He smelled of fresh shampoo and cologne, his breath warm on your face as you looked into other’s eyes. Brushing your lips against his, you couldn’t deny the electricity between you. it had been bubbling for so long, from the moment you had turned up soaking wet on his doorstep. Your lips met once more, harder this time, more sure of yourselves. His hands snaked up your shoulders, his fingers coming to rest on the back your next. You tasted like Merlot and shea butter, and In-Ho couldn’t deny himself anymore.

He made love to you on his sofa, your bodies pressed together on the tiny 2-seater. Every atom of his body burned for you, your moans spurring him on as he explored you. He’d spent so many nights wondering how it would feel to be inside you, but nothing compared to the reality. You were so soft, so warm, and you fit so perfectly against him. It was like you had been made just for him. He held you as the sun came up, his fingers tracing sweet, delicate circles over your nipples. You could taste yourself on his tongue, your body still tingling from the pleasure he’d inflicted. You didn’t want to part, didn’t want to head back to the emptiness of your apartment, but you had to get to work. “When can I see you again?” He asked, pulling you in for one last kiss. “Tonight?” you smiled, brushing the tip of your nose against his as you leaned further into his arms. “I’ll be counting down the minutes,” he whispered, watching you disappear into your apartment.

For the first time in over three years, In-Ho felt weightless. He whistled as he showered, hummed to the radio as he prepared breakfast. He’d taken a huge step last night, one he never thought he’d be ready for. He heart would always hold love for his wife and child, but now it had space for you too.

[teklarn]

devoted little thing, pt 1. - j. todd

masterlist!

jason todd x fem!reader

link to the fic on AO3 -> here

genre: angst (series)

summary: After the death of your boyfriend, Jason Todd, your life has never been the same. You abandon everything you've ever known: your job working for Batman as a detective, your home, your friends. That is until three years after his death, your life is saved by a mysterious vigilante calling himself the Red Hood.

You assume it was a one-off; that the infamous anti-hero just happened to be in the right place at the right time. But you're finding his calling card everywhere. He's around every single corner―you can't seem to get rid of him. The mystery of his identity brings you back to Bruce in hopes of finding out who he is. But as intimidating as the Red Hood is, with his blurry morals and all, you can't help but find yourself falling for him.

Your devotion to your late lover, Jason, is strong, but it feels so nice to be touched again―how could you say no to the man who saved your life?

warnings: non canon compliant, heavy themes of depression and anxiety, slight yandere themes to come, slight stalking, suicidal thoughts, heavy angst, death, unedited.

-

He had always been angry. So damn angry. At you, at the world, at Bruce. 

And you knew, dammit. You had known deep down that his anger would cost him dearly one day. 

You just didn't think it would put him in the ground. 

Tears erupted from your eyes like a waterfall, Bruce and Alfred the only other people present as they dropped your beloved into the ground, his youthful face illuminated by the silver moonlight spilling over the graveyard. The three of you stayed silent. What was there to say? At any other funeral, people would say the usual: He died too young. His life still has meaning. He's looking down on us right now. He'll guide you. 

Damn it all. Damn everything. As you stared at that coffin, the dark wood splattered with raindrops violently crashing down, you couldn't help the anger boiling in your veins. Sad as you were, you couldn't help but think to yourself: Was I not enough? Not enough to stop him from chasing his anger down into a well. A pit of darkness so deep and inescapable even you couldn't pull him out of it. 

Bruce rests a hand on your shoulder, lifting the umbrella higher to further shelter you from the violent downpour. You pretend not to notice the way his cheeks are rosy from the cold, or how his eyes are watering the longer he stares at the grave. 

Death curls its bony fingers around your throat―it whispers sweet nothings in your ear. Once upon a time, you'd been just like Jason. Alone on the streets, an orphan with no direction in life. But cursed with a talent for solving any mystery you could get your hand on, Bruce welcomed you into his family, where you had met Jason. Someone who knew what it was like to be alone. Someone with the same resentment towards the world. The only person who understood you was in the ground now. And, just hours before his death, you had fought. 

Jason was no easy-going boy. There were some days where you pondered that perhaps Jason liked to bicker with you. He liked the thrill of fighting, of winning. Your relationship was perfect by no means, but it wasn't toxic. Not until his anger got the best of him, like it had hours before his death. The fight had started like many others and had ended the same way: with him storming out the door, cheeks reddened with fury, hints of tears glinting in his eyes. 

On any normal day, you would have chased after him. Told him not to run away from his problems. He would have returned with a scowl on his face, but at least he would still be home. It was the one time you didn't chase after him. The one time you let him slip away. 

And dammit, the guilt was stabbing your gut like rusty knives. 

You resisted the urge to shove Bruce's hand off your shoulder, instead opting for the respectful option of turning away, claiming you just needed space. Which wasn't entirely a lie. You didn't want to be near Bruce, nor Alfred, but if they hadn't been standing at Jason's grave, you would have stayed there and cried all night. Until your eyes were puffy, until the rain left you a shivering, soaking mess. Until Death came to claim you itself. 

Back inside, when Bruce and Alfred finally rejoined you, you'd already showered and changed into a dry pair of clothes. It had taken all the strength left inside your soul to take care of yourself. To not throw yourself onto your bed and drown beneath the plush sheets. 

You couldn't look Bruce in the eye. The fire flickered, casting shadows on his harsh features, the flames dancing across the walls. His eyes were angry. His eyes looked like Jason's. 

On long, hard days, Jason would rant about Bruce. About his antics, his supposed cowardice, his lack of courage when it came to doing the hard thing over the right thing. On those days, you yearned to tell Jason that he looked just like Bruce. That the only real difference between them was that Bruce would choose his morals over everything. 

Now, Bruce's eyes darkened. There was hate behind them. Thoughts swarming, filled with white-hot anger that mirrored your own. That same anger that mirrored Jason's. You couldn't do it. You could barely keep yourself on your feet. 

"Is everything all right?" Alfred asked, his gaze averting from his master to you. The wrinkles in his face made you sick. It felt wrong to see someone so old, so wise, someone who had lived life to the fullest of years. In fifty years, Jason should look just like Alfred. With wrinkles and smile lines pressed deep into his features. Crows feet should crinkle at the edges of his eyes and his smile should reflect accomplishment. 

You tried to shove the image from your head, but staring at Bruce and Alfred was like looking at future versions of the man you loved. The man you'd just buried underground mere hours ago. 

Blinking away tears, you waved off the poor butler. "I have to go. I'm sorry." 

Weeks later, you felt entirely, hopelessly useless. And Bruce had allowed you to rot. Your bed was your only comfort aside from your imagination. You'd pull your pillows close, running your hands over the smooth cases, digging your fingers into the wrinkles the same way you'd fist Jason's shirt when he'd hold you. Bruce's disciplined antics hadn't ceased, but he was shockingly understanding. 

Well, maybe not shockingly. To him, he'd lost a son. To you, you'd lost a best friend, a lover, a soulmate. Whatever your naive little mind could conjure up. Jason was everything. 

As the days dragged on, your anger subsided. All you wanted was him, now. One more minute to apologize for your attitude, one more second just to run your fingers over his olive-toned skin. Just a moment. One fleeting, desperate moment to say three words: "I love you." 

Your mind was a prison of grief, your body was a shell housing a half-dead soul. Periodically, Alfred came in to set plates of food on your nightstand. Your mouth watered, but the food remained untouched for the most part. Guilt prodded at your stomach. Bruce should find a way to drag you out of bed. He should force you to stop mourning; to find a distraction. Perhaps a new case for you to dive into. 

You felt like throwing up. 

Just the image of Bruce's face brought back the image of Jason's. An older, colder version of Jason hardened by the vices of the world. And Alfred, sweet Alfred could place a reason as to why you refused to look at him, too. 

It was all because of Jason. Because he deserved to live, to be old and die old. He deserved to be ninety and to rot away in some hospice, waiting for death to greet him like an old friend. His hairline would be receded and his face would be marred with age spots and freckles from years of baking under the sun. 

"Miss?" A knock at your door sounded, and the familiar voice of Bruce's friendly butler flooded your ears. 

A quiet sob slipped past your lips. Loneliness was consuming you like a disease, but who could you talk to that would be worth your time? Who would understand you, who would bring you back to life the way he always knew how to? 

A soft, "Mhm?" was all you could manage. 

You heard Alfred peel the door open with a creak, and the smell of steaming hot food invaded your nostrils, the mouth-watering spices wafting into your room and filling the space with warmth and love. He set the plate down on your nightstand, exchanging it for your un-touched dinner from the night before. 

"Master Wayne is requesting your presence. Would you...care to join him after breakfast?" The hesitance in Alfred's voice made your guilt ten times worse. You were bloated with regret and sadness―it was spilling through your mouth, your eyes. Your very being was drenched with remorse. 

"I can join him now," you say weakly. You didn't care much to make yourself presentable. Bruce had known both you and Jason's since you were children. You'd both been welcomed into the family under the same circumstances. Jason, being only a few years older than you, had been the first to make you feel truly at home. Everything seemed to revolve around Jason and it made you so...so angry. 

"He insists you take your time getting ready." The gentleness in Alfred's tone told you everything he meant to portray. Take all the time you need. There's something important he needs to tell you. 

When the door clicks shut, you don't know how, but you manage to crawl out of bed. The feeling of your feet on the scratchy carpet is foreign, even the hot water running down your body feels like a new sensation when you're able to drag your ass into the shower. Damn, how long had it been since you last washed up? 

The depression had a chokehold on you. It had sunk its teeth and nails bone-deep, slowly slurping the life from your veins. Your body obeyed nothing but sloth. It was a shock even to yourself that you had offered to meet Bruce downstairs. 

By the time you wipe the steam off the mirror and see yourself, you look the same as you had the day you buried Jason. Your eyes are still painfully puffy, your skin dry from tears dragging down your cheeks. You throw on suitable but casual clothing, and you have to admit, it feels nice to put yourself together after spending weeks sinking into your mattress, practically binding your body to it. 

Downstairs, Bruce is already waiting. Alfred has your coat ready. Your footsteps halt on the stairs as hesitance builds its way through your body. You can still barely look at Bruce without seeing Jason. You train your eyes on Alfred instead, hoping that you'll find his wrinkled face easier to bear. 

"What's going on?" Your voice cuts through the silence, echoing painfully along the empty walls of the manor. 

Bruce sighs, but you keep your eyes down or on Alfred. You can't look at him. You really can't. He takes your jacket from Alfred and holds the arms out for you. "We're relocating you." 

"What? Relocating me? What does that mean?" Confusion ebbs its way into your mind. 

"Both Alfred and I have concluded that it isn't healthy for you to stay here anymore. You need something new. Something―" 

You cut Bruce off. "What the hell do you mean by relocating me?" 

Alfred straightened. "There's an apartment Master Wayne has purchased within the city. We thought it might be better for you to be surrounded by people. There might be an opportunity for you to―" 

"To what? I don't need to be moved, I'm fine where I am. What about all the cases I've solved in the past? You don't think I'm fit to do it anymore?" You knew they were only trying to help. That this was the only way they knew how after you'd completely shut down. But your anger couldn't be snuffed out. This outburst was new. It wasn't you. "What? Are you trying to get rid of me? Am I too much of a reminder of him? Don't try to run away from your issues again, Bruce." 

You didn't want to say this. You didn't want to be so...mean. But dammit, your mouth was moving too fast for you to think. Even when Alfred and Bruce's faces flickered with sympathy and a strange sense of understanding, you didn't stop your insults. 

"I don't need to move. I don't need to run away." Your brows knit together in anger. 

"Then what do you need?" Bruce dared to ask. 

"I..." Your voice caught in your throat. I want Jason, I want his comfort. I want his words, his arms, his love and unconditional understanding. 

Bruce's stern features tightened. Instead of the father-figure you'd come to know, he was just a businessman right now. Cold, calculating, demanding. The strength it took you to meet his gaze was all you needed to snatch your coat and toss yourself into his vehicle.

The apartment wasn't shaggy, but it was homey. It felt much warmer than the emptiness you'd been accustomed to back at the estate. The ride here had been riddled with painful silence, you nor Bruce or Alfred daring to speak. A part of you wanted to apologize for your outburst. It wasn't their fault, they were just trying to help. You knew damn well that was the truth. 

One bathroom, one bedroom, a generous kitchen, and a balcony three stories up, overlooking the trash-littered street below. Gotham wasn't a beautiful place, but maybe it was just what you needed. To be around people, surrounded by the environment of people just as lost and as broken as you. 

The lack of elegance made you appreciate the apartment that much more. Bruce knew you didn't need anymore empty space to fill. And this...this was what you needed. 

Still, some wretched part of you couldn't stand the thought of decisions being made for you. You wanted someone to blame, someone to yell at. Something to take out your anger on. 

"We'd like to keep in touch." Bruce handed you a transmitter. One of his high-tech ones made just for you. It was an order, not a request. You snatched the transmitter from his calloused hands and stuffed it away. 

"How do you know I'm not going to kill myself now that no one is watching me?" You snickered. Your chuckle was humorless. It was a painful truth they hadn't thought of. Or...they had, judging by the tension pulling on their features. 

You didn't want to ask how or why. 

Don't make this about you, you scolded yourself. Gray emotions swirled within you. 

"We'll deliver your things tomorrow morning. Just allow yourself to get settled in." Alfred nodded to the transmitter. "If you need anything―anything at all―don't hesitate to reach out. This will be good for you." 

You must have pushed the awkward farewells from your mind, because somehow you ended up on the floor of your new apartment, sobbing at the emptiness. The void of your new home felt like a region in outer space that even an alien wouldn't belong to. Your mixed emotions, the pain running through your chest, it was all a constant reminder of what you lost, of who you were haunted by. Of the person you'd never see again. 

The emptiness inside of you was a permanent reminder of the person you had once loved the most, and how he had died thinking you were angry at him. 

This is good for me, you reminded yourself. 

Tears spilled from your eyes. 

This is good for me.

-

link to the fic on AO3 -> here

[ruggiesears]

Template by @/ai-kan1

Personality & background:

Vitra is known for being surrounded by death. She lost her parents in an accident when she was very young and was raised by her aunt. Vitra also has an autoimmune disease called lupus, which makes her health quite fragile. These hardships made it difficult for her to see life in a positive light. She began to believe the cruel rumors her peers spread—that she was "unlucky" and "carried death with her." The breaking point came when one of her lovers had a near-death experience and blamed it on her, saying he nearly died because of her misfortune.

All of this could have made Vitra deeply depressed, but her aunt – her shining light – was always there to reassure her. She reminded Vitra that she was still alive after all these years by her side, which proved that Vitra wasn’t cursed. She just needed to find the people who truly cared for her. Her aunt taught her that "with a smile and a song, life is just a bright sunny day," and that she should never lose hope or her happiness.

After graduating from Night Raven College, Vitra struggled to find a stable job. She bounced between various part-time positions, but she mainly helped her aunt at the flower shop she owned until she eventually applied for a role – likely as an assistant – with Eric Venue, a well-known actor. Her sincerity and strong work ethic immediately caught his attention, and he hired her to assist his son, Vil Schoenheit. Over time, Vitra proved herself invaluable, eventually rising through the ranks to become Vil’s personal manager. Her dedication and professionalism have since earned her consistent praise from Vil himself.

Vitra has grown into a sweet, gentle woman who always tries to see the bright side of life. She's a dedicated professional, often prioritizing her work above all else—a habit that sometimes takes a toll on her health due to her condition. Vitra is also known for handling even Vil’s most outrageous demands with calm efficiency, showcasing her sharp intelligence and quick problem-solving skills. Despite her accomplishments, she still quietly struggles with self-esteem, seeing herself as unattractive and unworthy. Even so, she does her best to maintain a positive outlook and move forward with quiet resilience.

fun facts: Vitra is inspired by the latin word “vitrum”, meaning “glass”, while Todenfeld is an invented surname that roughly translates to “field of death”; Vitra loves flowers, but she can’t take care of them to save her life, her favorite flower is “aconite”, a poisonous flower; I don’t usually have a religion for any of my OCs, but for some reason I like to view Vitra as a practising protestant.

Basic info:

Height: 180cm

Age: 36 years old

Nicknames: Vivi (by her aunt & friends), honey, baby, miss manager (by Eric)

Birthday: November 1st

Dominant hand: left

Favorite food: gooseberry pie

Occupation: celebrity manager

Hobbies: taking pictures of flowers

Homeland: Shaftlands

Unique Magic: [not yet defined]

Relationship dynamics:

♡ Eric Venue - Eric and Vitra met when she was 33, trying to find a stable job that didn’t involve assisting her aunt at the flower shop. Once she landed a position – and eventually rose to become the manager for his son – her relationship with Eric steadily deepened. He was intrigued by her resilience and dedication to her work, especially the way she always made sure Vil was well cared for.

Eric began to fall for her when he realized her concern for Vil went beyond professional duty – she genuinely cared for the boy. He noticed her attentiveness to small things, her positive outlook, and her gentle nature. All of it drew him to her.

Since then, he’s been subtly trying to court her: flirting, expressing his feelings openly, and asking her to dinner on a regular basis. But Vitra always declined.

She admired Eric – his devotion to his job, his love for his son, and the respectful way he treated her. He was, in many ways, exactly the kind of man she could fall for. But Vitra couldn’t bring herself to accept his advances, afraid that pursuing a relationship might interfere with her responsibilities at work.

Vil Schoenheit - Vil and Vitra are rather close. Vil deeply respects and trusts in Vitra, and she reciprocates his feelings – deeply respecting his love for acting. Sometimes, she thinks Vil exaggerates a bit when it comes to beauty, but she knows it's important for him, so she encourages him, and is always there to help as his manager and as a friend. Vil is aware of his father's feelings towards Vitra, and although he sometimes thinks it's weird that his dad and his manager can date, he's not opposed to the idea due to how much he likes Vitra as a person.

Neige LeBlanche: as much as Vil wants her to, Vitra cannot bring herself to hate Neige, especially when it comes to knowing his backstory. She finds him inspiring and she's secretly a fan of his work (not wanting to accidentally upset Vil by letting him know about it). Neige and her met at an important event and Neige finds her very respectful and kind, and often thanks her for taking great care of his “friend Vi-kun”.

Paige ( @viilpstick's oc): Vitra met Paige through Eric. She finds Paige a beautiful young lady, and she'd be lying if she said she didn't look in the mirror and secretly hope she was just as pretty as her. Although she has that envy, she doesn't dislike Paige, rather, she finds Paige delightful, and is always willing to hear her sing.

Maisie Bows (my own oc): Maisie is the type to encourage Vitra's feelings due to her hopeless romantic nature. She's always telling Vitra that she needs to "go for it!" and that she's "wasting an opportunity with such a beautiful man!". Vitra and Maisie are close friends and Vitra is always looking out for Maisie, trying to help her control her temper, while Maisie is always supportive of Vitra and willing to help her overcome her self image issues.

Character references:

[4pologygir1]

hi, hope ur doing well! i would love to request some dale cooper x wife!reader 🥹

i picture dale and reader finally moving into a beautiful house in seattle washington together sometime after he solves the palmer case + some soft smut at the end 😩 thank u thank u!

hi, beautiful! this is such an incredible idea– here's your dale cooper fic, keeping all the warmth and intimacy but, as i've never truly written much smut before, i tried for something slow, soft, and deeply devoted. i hope you like!!

–

seattle rain falls in the softest way, misting rather than drenching, an eternal hush over the city. the air smells of damp cedar and the salt of the puget sound. you and dale stand before your new house, a little craftsman tucked between trees, with green-trimmed windows and a front porch big enough for a rocking chair and morning coffee rituals.

dale’s hand is warm in yours, fingers curling around your palm like a promise. his eyes shine—endlessly dark, endlessly kind. “it’s beautiful,” he says, his voice carrying something reverent, something fragile. “do you feel it?”

you do.

the quiet hum of home. not just four walls and a roof, but something deeper. a place to rest, a place to heal. a place where the ghosts of twin peaks can’t follow.

it’s been months since you left the town behind, since dale closed the case that haunted the douglas firs. since he looked evil in the eye and walked away still himself. but some nights, he still wakes up shaking, and some days, he gets that faraway look, as if he’s watching owls move between trees where there are none.

but today, here, he is whole. he is yours.

you squeeze his hand. “let’s go inside.”

---

during your first night, the house is empty but full of possibilities. your voices echo off the hardwood floors as you move between rooms, dreaming aloud.

“the bedroom should be here,” dale says, stepping into a space with a bay window overlooking a small garden. “morning light. the best way to start the day.”

you smile. “and the kitchen?”

he spins on his heel, already mapping things out. “right off the living room. close enough that I can make coffee without missing a word of your conversation.”

that makes you laugh. dale is a man who cherishes words, the intimacy of dialogue. you know he’ll listen to you talk about anything, from the strange dreams you have to the color you’re considering painting the front door.

the moving truck won’t arrive until tomorrow. tonight, it’s just you two, a mattress on the floor, and a bottle of wine that dale picked up on the way in. you sit cross-legged in the middle of the empty living room, sipping from mismatched mugs because you don’t own proper glasses yet.

“here’s to new beginnings,” dale says, tapping his mug against yours.

“here’s to home,” you reply.

he watches you over the rim of his mug, a softness in his gaze that makes your heart slow to a dreamy lull. “do you think,” he says, setting it down, “that we were always meant to end up here?”

it’s the kind of question dale loves to ask—woven with fate and philosophy, the unseen patterns of the universe. you tilt your head, considering. “i don’t know if it was fate,” you say, “but i do know that nowhere else feels quite like this. like us.”

dale reaches for your hand again, rubbing his thumb along your knuckles, tracing every line like he’s memorizing you.

later, when you’re curled against him on the mattress, his arm wrapped around your waist, you whisper, “do you think we’ll be this happy forever?

when you look at him, he’s already watching you. there’s sincerity in his eyes, a tenderness that makes your breath hitch.

“i know we will,” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper.

you reach for him, fingers threading through his hair, pulling him into a slow, deliberate kiss. dale sighs against your lips, his hands tightening around your waist, tugging you closer.

there is no rush. no urgency. only the quiet unraveling of two people who have spent a lifetime finding each other.

he touches you like he’s memorizing every inch—like he’s tracing constellations, mapping something sacred. his lips press reverent kisses to your collarbone, your shoulder, your wrist.

and when he finally moves over you, slow and careful, his hand cradling your cheek, he whispers, “i love you.”

you say it back, over and over, in every breath, every kiss, every touch.

his mouth follows the curve of your neck, his hands sliding beneath your clothes with a reverence that makes you shiver. he takes his time, watching your face, learning every sound you make. the way he moves—patient, devoted—makes it feel like worship, like poetry written into your skin.

soon, this reverence gives way to hunger.

his mouth trails lower, lips and teeth teasing sensitive skin, his hands gripping your thighs as if he can’t bear to let you go just yet. he whispers your name between kisses, voice rough with need, telling you how perfect you feel, how he wants to hear you fall apart again. his touch stays insistent, coaxing you back into pleasure, as if he’s determined to pull every last ounce of it from your body.

you gasp his name, and it only spurs him on—his pace unhurried but relentless, savoring every moment, every reaction. he watches you with dark, hooded eyes, the way he touches you—so thorough, so utterly focused—makes you feel like the only thing that exists in his world.

and when you finally collapse against him, breathless and spent, he pulls you close, lips brushing against your ear as he murmurs, “i could spend forever learning you.”

outside, the rain pounds harder against the windows, but inside, the world is warm, pulsing with heat, with want, with the quiet promise that this won’t be the last time. not even close.

[silv3rswirls]

Sweet Thing

Requests are open, desperately in need of some more Yandere/dark requests <3

my masterlist for these kinds of fics

Summary: Sweet thing; mourning lamb. Believe him good or evil, or somewhere in between. He doesn’t care, what’s done is done.

warnings: dark yoongi, cults, religious themes, abuse of power, sex, mentions of virginity, corruption kink, mentions of mental health, manipulation, coercion, dead animals, blood, carcass. Can you tell I love a good sacrificial lamb theme

fic playlist for vibes

note: Requested by an anon, I hope you like it <3

You covered your mouth with your hands, your stomach churning and your dinner threatening to come back up.

You didn’t mind the role you played here, enjoyed it even. Until it was time to clean up the mess left behind. Why make the ones who raise the lamb clean its remains? You looked at the table, watching the slow drip of blood fall onto the floor. The room is empty and dark; earlier it had been filled to the brim and bustling with followers. Everyone seemed to like watching the sacrifice, listening to the father rant and rave all night.

You swallowed, filling tears threatening to brim your eyes as you forced your body to approach the animal’s body. 

You loved taking care of the animals. It was your job, along with a few of the other young girls and older women. Everyone had a job. Everyone in the father’s flock contributed. It was one of the many rules you had been presented when coming into their group. You had only been a part of the flock for about a year now, maybe a little less. It was hard to keep track without phones: no television, no internet, and no socializing with the outside world. Only the trusted members of father’s council could. There was a man that ran the organization's webpage, he had the only computer in the compound. The rest of the men that Father surrounded himself with also had phones, allowance to leave, and other perks for being more devoted, you supposed? 

All you really knew was that you didn’t, and likely never would have those kinds of gifts here. You were new, too young, and didn’t know enough about father’s words. You weren’t sure if you ever would. You liked it here, but it was confusing sometimes. Maybe you just needed to pay more attention. 

You hadn’t been looking for the word of father at the time. You had been heading home after another failed job interview. Anxiously waiting for the train home, watching the crowds of city goers weave around each other. 

You didn’t attend college, and your marks in school had never been the best. It was getting harder to find jobs to apply to now. No one wanted you. Not educated enough, and seemed to demure and slow to think in your interviews. At least, that’s what one particularly rude man had told you at the end of one. You didn’t even want to work, your family was pushing you. You couldn’t make them understand what was happening inside you. You couldn’t even explain it to yourself, let alone articulate the abstract happening in your head. 

Your train was running late, you looked down at the folded flier in your hand. A man had practically forced you to take it from him. You were used to seeing it; crazy people out this time of night trying to recruit people to their schemes.

You unfold it, looking at the paper that spared little information on their group. Not a cult, they insisted with a laugh. An organization for those who felt lost, and needed help and guidance. 

“We take care of each other, we’re family.” 

There was a code hidden on the flier, if you could solve it you would gain access to their website. You went home that night, and two days later you had solved it. Not long after you found yourself wandering out to meet with them. The rest had unfolded so fast, so smoothly. You pretend, as we often do. You were pretending to be an ignorant cynic. Terrified of waiting, or wanting something that you may never get. Daring to dream for anything more than what was on the platter life presented to you at birth. You hardly noticed the change, and soon the remnants of your old life faded. Father’s words set in, rooted inside your being. You liked him, and everyone here. You had never heard of Father’s God, but you didn’t mind turning to him just to have someone to take care of you.

You closed your eyes and scooped up the lamb, setting it in your wagon. You turned back to the blood smeared over the stone table and began to scrub.

It took a long time. Your arms felt like jelly and your back hurt from hunching over. It was washed and dry for the most part, but the past stains of blood remained. Faint traces left over from years of the same ceremony. You looked around the empty, dark room. Everyone else had left by now; your tasks always took the longest. The windows here were stained so dark even during daylight you couldn’t tell if it was light or dark out. It was late though. Most of the candles stacked around the room had burnt out, a few stays remained flickering.

You stood up, giving a big stretch and turning back to the lamb's body. When you saw the dead little lamb you could feel yourself starting to cry again. Too wrapped up in your woes, you hardly noticed the gentle click of the room’s door closing. Soft footsteps slowly make their way towards you. A comforting hand brushed against your back, murmuring slowly about how your tears should be of joy. Their sacrifice would make your life better, this would lay yet another small stepping stone to the future Father was building for everyone here.

The voice, so smooth and quiet, you recognized. Min Yoongi, a man you had never spoken to before about a month ago. He seemed to be good friends with father and was one of the higher-ranking members of the organization. He had taken notice of you on one of his many walks through the meadows you and the other girls watched over the lamb. He had come, snaking through the thick grass and wildflower, stopping just to look down at you. Asked about how much you liked the animals, made small talk, and came back every day afterward to keep talking.

It was odd at first. You were never sure of what to say or do in his presence. He seemed a bit untouchable during the rare moments you caught sight of him. Standing up there with father, and six other men. Men who felt like gods at his side. But he was persistent, and he liked you. 

“We’ve talked about this” he smiled at you, his thumb tracing your cheek to push the tears aside. You nodded, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “Did you miss me?” He asks, his smile a bit cheeky as he waits for you to nod. You do. You missed him the past few days and have grown used to his presence. You weren’t sure about the feelings you held for him though. It was confusing, as was everything else in your head. But you liked him, liked the way he would kiss you just out of sight of everyone else. How he would guide you to his room some nights and spend hours basking upon you.

Yoongi moves in to kiss you, to which you meet him and return it. He smiles again, “have you thought about what I said the last time we met?”

You hesitantly nod. “I’m just not sure…I mean, father wouldn’t be happy if we were caught, right?”

Yoongi scoffs, laughing a bit as he looks around. “Baby, he doesn’t care what I do.” 

“And what about what I do?” You frown. You hated the way Yoongi could insinuate that he was above everyone else. Maybe he was, maybe father didn’t care what he and the other higher ranks did. Maybe they were favored, you just didn't want to think about it. But there were rules. Rules everyone here was expected to follow. Did father rules apply to him, you wondered for another moment. He would decide who got together for marriage; God would tell him. But, did it matter if it was him? Did it matter to who he chose to be close to? 

Would Yoongi marry you?

You looked up at him when he stood, peering through your eyelashes nervously. You liked Yoongi, he made it hard not to like him. 

“Just lay down here, come on.” He coaxed. Yoongi wet his lips, his eyes fixed on you. He wanted you. Wanted more than kissing and holding you, he was getting bored of it. He wanted you to lay back for him, let his hands roam your body, peel back your clothing, and trace every soft inch of your skin. 

Your will tetters and grows tighter as you lay back for him, finally snapping when he gives you one last reassuring smile. You try to relax, ignore the faint stain of lamb blood under you. “Exciting, right?” He asked and you nodded, your stomach swirled with excitement for him and anxiety for the room surrounding you. You wanted him, you had never felt such an urge for someone before in your life. Guys never looked at you before, and when you joined Father’s word it was far from everyone’s mind here. But Yoongi had been trying, peeling away every reserved and anxious layer on your body. He poked and prodded, his interest was never a secret.

He got close and kissed your cheek rather than your lips again. Then your jaw, just under your ear, then your neck. The way he moved, feverish but restrained, his breath hot and lips tracing your neck. He would stop and peck, and bite. It felt like he was trying to get to your throat, bite it open to listen to your secrets and hushed words spill out. Everything goes blurry when you experience him, you aren’t sure why or how. You wanted him, but here? Your eyes scan the room again. A sacred place like this, laying on the same table the pierced lamb on. Yoongi wanted it to be here, were you his lamb now? 

You unbutton your blouse for him, growing meek under his hard stare. His hands are cold as they run up your ribs, stopping just at your breast. 

Yoongi's breath hitched in excitement. How long had it been since he’d been with someone? A few months maybe. While you, he knew, had never been with anyone. He wouldn't admit aloud that that was what attracted him to you. The meek, reserved vibe you gave off. He liked women like that, he liked walking the fields and searching for his next. 

He loved it. Watching you shrink under him, turn away, try to cover yourself up in embarrassment under his hungry eye. The noises you made, noises you likely hadn’t made before. Your legs around him, pulling him closer. His hips pressed against yours, how eager you are, how you would look back at him. 

“Thank me for picking you. Come on say it again, thank me.” His breath hitched hearing your voice. So perfect for him at this moment.

“Thank you” you managed to get out between breathy moans. Your arms around him, tight and desperate to hold on. His face pressed into the crook of your neck. Teeth sinking into your skin, soft violent marks left in his wake. 

Was it poetic in some odd way to be taken on an altar of sacrifice? You’re head lulled back, your throat exposed for him to press hot kisses to and nip at. You looked up at the ceiling. The same stained panes of glass circled above you. The faint spears of moonlight leak in. The candles burned out as the seconds passed. 

“My sweet lamb.” He hissed, “So perfect for me.” His body dropped closer to yours. His mouth latched to your shoulder sucking marks onto it. “You’ve been waiting for me to come, right?” His fingertips press into your hips, kneading the soft flesh, nails pricking your skin. 

Was that all you were? An animal, standing alone in a clearing waiting for its mother to return. Fawns do that. A young doe placed among flowers to wait for her mother, or anyone really to return for it. Placid and waiting, like now. Waiting for him, or someone else? Your mother, when was the last you had seen her? Talked to her, was she waiting still? Did she know about you, what you were up to? Had she left or had someone taken you, you couldn’t tell anymore. Your memories were blurry. How have you found your way here again?

What had you thought when you first met the recruiters? You couldn’t remember. And when you were sentenced to the farm, slaving away for the lamb. Was that better than your old life at home? What had been your old life anyway? And him; what of him? When he walked the fields until finding you. You looked at him, and you knew he wasn’t the one you were waiting on. But everything was cold, and warmth was warmth. Had you been left there, but by who? God? Fathers God, or God himself? What had he done to find you; why had you sat patiently waiting.

“Sweet thing, little lamb” Yoongi’s breathless, eyes clouded as he looked down at you. Your chest rising and falling, your breath still trying to find you again. He gets off of you, but you take a second to lay there to soak up the feeling. Yoongi, how good he had felt, yet how much anxiety weighed your stomach. You could feel him on you, sticky against your inner thighs. Dripping from you, onto the altar. Thick and sticky, you would have to scrub the table off once more tonight. 

Yoongi finishes fixing himself up and moves back to you. Standing over you, eyes piercing your being once again. He twirls a piece of your hair gently between his fingers. “Sweet thing” he grinned, more to himself than you. “Finish up here, I’ll see you tomorrow.” You feel him tilt your head towards him. His lips pressed against yours one last time. You watch him go, and the stark silence of the room rings in your ears.

What fear a man like him, and those around him brings upon those like you. A woman like you and the unfortunate circumstances thrust upon you in early childhood. You didn’t want him to look at you anymore, and he could see it. In your eyes, he keeps looking. Eyes so dark, yet bright. You can see them, even through the thick darkness of the room. He was there when you spilled your first blood, and now your second. Standing, looking. No good, no evil, he was simply him; man, being, animal, serpent- whatever he was and would continue to be well after you.

taglist: @aft3rhrs

[writers-wrongs]

Have you seen Arkham Knight VR? Riddler's self-aware in it! Could have some existential horror potential if you wrote headcanons or something for that version of him as a yandere >:-D (or just about self-aware Eddie from the mainline games...?)

as a ddlc fan, i love self aware game characters. and if anyone in arkham knight was gonna be sentient, itd be him. unfortunately, i havent seen AKVR, so this is just regular arkham knight

yandere!self aware!arkham!riddler x gn!reader

-edwards the most intelligent man in gotham, of course he noticed that his life was a game. and over time, he learned how to manipulate the game around him and "see" into the outside world

-the disc hes on was sold by the original owner, and now gets passed from person to person from secondhand game shops. the disc is always returned because somethings wrong with it. nobody puts two and two together and realizes they only start having game issues when they look up answers to the riddles

-then you buy the disc. edward is mildly interested in you, as he is with everyone who buys his game, but he assumes it wont last when you struggle with his riddles. whatever, at least he can enjoy messing around with your game

-but then you dont look anything up. he watches you intently, he even hacks onto your phone to check if youve been searching answers, and youre all clear. sure, you struggle at some of his puzzles (who doesnt?), but you never cave and look up how to solve it, no matter how long it takes you

-now that hes poking around on your phone, he sees that youre kind of a shut in. you dont have many contacts, and the one social media you have is tumblr. but it looks like you fixate on him a lot, almost to an unhealthy degree. its flattering- of course someone as excellent as him deserves sycophants! and he especially deserves one as devoted as you! youre smart, and determined, and oh lord, hes in love

-you have things to do during the day, you cant spend all your time with him on the disc, so he listens in on you from your phone. theres not much to do when youre not playing the game, so its his favorite way to pass the time. when you get home and start playing, he tries to interest you in his sidequest over everything else. he even keeps an eye on you as you sleep! he has to make sure youre safe, after all

-when youre not playing, he focuses on finding a way out to you (or bringing you in to him). he needs to be able to hold you, to keep you safe himself, and if he has to drag you kicking and screaming into the game with him, he will. not that he really knows how to do that, but he'll figure out something

-on your end, you dont notice anything at first. maybe his lines when you play are a little... flirtier? but other than that, the game is fun. you feel particularly drawn to the riddler sidequest, hes your favorite character after all. then, you notice that his lines are strangely specified to you, making references to your interests and personal life. maybe its just reading your console? yeah, a fun little meta thing!

-but then it gets concerning. he calls you by name. not the name on your console, your real name. hes talking like he knows you as a person. hes saying how much he needs you, how much he adores your dedication to his riddles, your dedication to him. you decide this is too weird, you have to return the game. so you go to take it out, and-

-you wake up in what looks like the abandoned orphanage from arkham knight. you try to move, but you feel arms squeeze you tight

-"there you are, my dear player. we're going to have so much fun together"

[smileposting]

[THIS POST CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR GREAT GOD GROVE, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.]

something i think is really interesting about click clack in particular is that out of all the gods he's probably the most Active in making mistakes throughout his arc? but unlike some other gods like mitternacht or cobigail he doesn't have a newly-sown distrust in king, and unlike level-specific antagonists like saul he's not motivated by a distrust of other people. if anything it's his tendency to idolize the people in his life/take their roles for granted (in the "accepts them as Immutable Fact" way) that gets him into hot water in the hobbyhoo level, bc it means he Doesn't Interrogate Anything and also does not Realize that he's not interrogating anything in his daily life, bc being an editor means you already interrogate people's writing on the daily.

he doesn't question why “king” would tell him to tone down the parts of oh partner mine that people care about the most, he's just like "well it's king so she's gotta know what she's talking about." he doesn't question why thespius would keep submitting scripts with those parts still intact after the first rejection, he's just like "ahhh, well, thespius has always had a tender heart. good thing more people will see that after my hard work is done!" and like i've said in previous posts, prior to godpoke's interference, it doesn't really seem like it was the norm to take a complaint straight to a god despite it being the easiest way to solve a problem, so obviously nobody was coming to tell him "hey big man this is kind of uh. shit." despite the fact that this is Also sometimes a necessary part of creative collaboration.

in this way, though far from the Only example, i think click clack's arc is a very good summary from both a divine and a (formerly) mortal perspective of some of the shortcomings of how gods are Regarded by the grove at large when the game first begins - i.e. the idea that gods are not only uniquely infallible, but their godhood is Mutually Exclusive from their humanity (neither of which are true, as we see throughout the game.) i imagine that being raised in a culture like that and then ascending to godhood makes it Very hard to admit when you know something is amiss - because if that's true, then no, your godhood does not make you infallible. and if your godhood doesn't make you infallible, can you really be trusted with godhood? if your godhood doesn't make you infallible like everybody says, what other things are they wrong about? what other things are you wrong about? very intimidating questions! best to just keep at it like you know what you're doing and hope nobody else catches on (spoiler alert: they will, in fact, catch on.)

also i can't find a way to work this into the rest of the post but i also think it's interesting that you can make a case for his arc foreshadowing/paralleling capochin's own? right hand man who is Intensely devoted to the guy he works with and is in denial about the romantic aspect of said devotion -> guy becomes more proactive in doing what he believes will best serve the guy he works with's interests at the expense of their community's morale -> guy eventually realizes he let his devotion blind himself to the true nature of guy he works with's desires and promptly gets his ass in gear to start fixing it. and also realizes that it was in fact a gay thing. obviously there are key differences there bc that's what narrative foils Do but yknow. I Just Think It's Neat.

[perfectfangirl]

notes after rewatching fallout s1 ep3

• almost certain that is sugarfoot cooper is dismounting in the scene from the movie he is filming 🥲 • the film cooper was filming here is called "the man from deadhorse", a clear play on the concept of "beating a dead horse" • just realized he [presumably] shot the bad guy character twice • i also noticed that the duster the bad guy character is wearing looks an awful lot like the duster cooper wears as the character he “plays” in the wasteland to cope. is... cooper playing a bad guy character based off one of his movies?? • saw a couple of different variations of "feo, fuerte, y formal" [all saying mostly the same thing] cooper says "he was ugly, strong, and had dignity" wikitionary says it denotes a conception of masculinity. very curious about this these words and the scene because cooper is obviously viewed as a concept of masculinity in hollywood, to the point where he's being asked to essentially engage in statecraft via propaganda as this movie scene is making his character do something completely antithetical--- killing the bad guy instead of solving another way, he basically says a line about "commies" then shoots the him in the head

• what's more is that some are viewing the three concepts of "ugly, strong, dignity" to mean either a variation of cooper, lucy, and maximus or of cooper himself, didn't even think of this and it's a particular interesting trichotomy of cooper pre and post war • "well, joey, i'll give you two out of three on that front" and now i don't know which two out of three • cooper goes out of his way to thank the actor jorge for playing the bad guy in his film • cooper presumably read the script, probably had a table read, rehearsal, and still didn't want to film his good guy character killing the bad guy [perhaps after cadillac bob got fired, there were rewrites and cooper was not told until then] out of context, this is charming, he values his characters so much that they mirror his own values [walton has argued with writers, directors, actors about his characters too!] but in context, it is either the beginning or yet another chapter is cooper's conflicting and morally challenging struggle of "right" and "wrong" in this show • need to know more about cadillac bob! he was doing the moral good type of writing on cooper's programs and i am curious if the firing was an ousting [as being labeled a communist is career over here] because the wiki says he was fired for refusing to write this storyline for the "new america" and then they wrote this character change for cooper to have a firmer anticommunist stance to influence the public. cooper wants to change the scene so bad, he asks for a writer and i find it amusing the director thinks doing a 180° on his character would be good because "the audience knows you're a good man. they want to see that even a good man as yourself can be driven too far sometimes" idk but this is about all the horseshit i can take • [this is precisely post war cooper's arc and character if that wasn't obvious enough] • enter barb. i love the sensual "married couple flirting like strangers" energy behind this scene • lavender flowers are supposed to represent purity, silence, grace, devotion, serenity, calmness--- just a little something for you romance girlies to think about with this scene • "tastes like someone touching you for the first time" and they make it a point to show cooper and barb's hands and cooper purposefully touching barb's fingers as they exchange the candy • hands and fingers seem to be important motifs here and it also seems like hands and fingers are particularly worthy of note for cooper • they kiss each other and they're like "sorry, makeup" and "sorry, lipstick" 😭 • looks like barb secured cooper some vault tec contracts • cooper winds up on siggi's headless body and i can almost see the algebra and trigonometry floating around his brain trying to make heads or tails of this shit • from my understanding, there's no chems that keep a ghoul from going feral within the game universe but there are chems that can and have turned people into ghouls, i see speculation that cooper may have a chem addiction and what we see are withdrawal symptoms, as when lucy finds him outside the super duper mart, he's still on the ground and not acting much feral but [of course coughing, drooling, etc could be the show's symptoms for ferality] i digress • almost think because it's dry and arid af out there, that's why he need a chem

• literally howling because of how lucy was handling siggi's head, she got over the shock and disgust quick 😭 • lucy is crazy for lighting another [camp]fire at night like that • lucy putting a tracker on siggi's head was smart though • lmao did the brotherhood of steel not know lord titus' regular speaking voice or • maximus lying to the brotherhood of steel, maximus selling his teeth for caps instead of literally anything else, maximus thinking he can leave his power suit uncovered and unattended without it being pulled for scrap--- like lord, maximus, please make a sensible step 😫 • the voice modulator mechanic person was very sci fi though • took me a second watch to realize maximus' tooth extraction resulted in a bit of a lisp glfgd • not maximus getting bullied again 😭 • maximus getting a wrench and toilet seat and beating the shit out of them wastelanders with them rotf • crushed that man's head like a watermelon❤️ • thaddeus being sent to inadvertently squire for someone he helped bully is his karma lol • "remnant from the old world" directly implying the enclave is a continuation of the us government • lucy arriving on the serene scene of a fawn near a lake where hollywood boulevard once stood [lucy being a parallel of the innocent doe, doe eyed, and this is bambi ok 🥲] • an undamaged, normal appearing fawn representing beauty and purity can grow in the wasteland and then it being snatched by a gulper likewise demonstrating that it can all be taken away in a blink of an eye • lucy once again being crazy for walking around with the barely contained rotting head, like of course the abomination snatched that too 😭 • cooper conveniently appearing with a cocked gun in her face and she just smiles and says "hello again" like excuse me?? 😭 • cooper's head tilt gets me every time, oof • he ain't have to lightly pistol whip her like that 😭 • lmao poor chet • betty to some degree i keep wondering if she knows extensively about the vaults of 31, 32, 33 or if she is just doing what she is told • norm using the word "escape" instead of perhaps "leave" when describing lucy's departure from vault 33 is intriguing, i think • it took me a minute, and i don't think i've seen much talk about this but i legitimately think norm's lack of enthusiasm and drive for life in the vault is directly connected to his mother's death but i have seen no clear age for him--- they don't show his memories like they do lucy's and i would want an explanation or exploration on his lore here because... he already uncovered vault 31's secret but i don't think he knows what hank has done and him finding out will be huge as well like for lucy • norm is rightfully angry at the raiders for what they did but i am almost willing to bet he might be implicated in their poisonings as a diversion tactic by someone like betty but it's all just a theory [a film theory gldfgldfl] • because someone in the fucking kitchen and handling the food poisoned them raiders... • ghoul prejudice being loud and clear and amongst the brotherhood of steel 😭 • ghouls leaving radiation trails is insane • lmao maximus and thaddeus coming upon siggi's headless body and then trying to compare his mugshot • maximus thinking it was the ghoul who beheaded siggi when it was lucy at siggi's request lol • dogmeat barking up a storm because she wanted cooper's foolishness upon lucy to cease • "you know, they use to do these things called "studies"" like lucy doesn't know what a study is? she's a teacher! 😭 • rads going up because of the water or cooper or both? • ok so i now get why when lucy told cooper torture was wrong that he went into a whole spiel--- not only was cooper in the military but for thirty years post war, dom pedro kept him in a coffin confined on an iv drip to keep him alive but would dig him up and slice pieces of him off and then put him back. cooper's behaviour using her as bait [but not torture] is of course not excusable but cooper is coming from a deep place of hurt and bitterness, this monster was whittled

• cooper goes on to say "it made sense. i mean a man hurts me, i wouldn't want to do him any favours. and yet the practice of torture failed to vanish from the earth. in fact, as time marched on, i've personally noticed a decided uptick in the amount of torture being doled out across the board." oh, cooper 😞 • he says this as he picks what looks like giant leeches off lucy [didn't have to do that] • "well, i ain't torturing you, sweetheart" here go the first instance of familiarity with a patronising pet name in the style of cowboyism and southerness gldgldlf • almost looked like lucy started cooperating when cooper told her he was using her as bait gldgldl • ok so it looks like cooper cut the rope? so lucy could get free i guess idk but then the gulper got ahold of the anchor so he couldn't reel it back? [not sure, anyways, he botched this lmao] • he starts striking at the gulper with what looks like a harpoon i guess when it catches lucy's leg [could've definitely let her get ate but didn't] • lucy basically saves herself with dogmeat biting the gulper and scaring it off • cooper empties lucy's bag and destroys her stuff so it's only right cooper's karma is his vials getting smashed in the process of using lucy for bait lol • cooper getting mad and taking out his gun and cocking it at lucy like it was her fault his shit got smashed 😭 • "oh, i'm sorry, i should just let you use me as bait in the poison river!?" the way she says it always almost brings a tear to my eyes like get his ass 😭 • for the first time in the show, cooper realises he was wrong and/or messed up [and to his detriment] • lucy protests her treatment, "do unto others as you would have done unto you" and cooper starts mumbling to himself "those gulpers digest real slow. you got time." because he already going through withdrawals, help • so he ties her up like a dog and says the wasteland got its own rule and it's "thou shalt get distracted by bullshit every goddamn time" 😭 this is so a reference to gameplay and how they themselves are going on a fucking side quest lmao • lucy asking about dogmeat 😢 dogmeat staying because that gulper has siggi's head ☹️

• lmao maximus masquerading as lord titus asking thaddeus to say something about him • you know? it's good writing to me to explain why a [secondary] character would bully or behave as thaddeus has to maximus--- he's not merely a side character and wanted to say nothing but nice things about maximus when he thought he died, i'll give him that • "we can judge a person and a society by how they treat their enemy" goes boom because of the game lore and also because somebody kills all those raider prisoners lol • this disconnect between the vault dwellers and wastelanders--- they're talking about teaching these people shakespeare when some of them eat people for survival • norm wants the raiders to die and they keep showing steph and this might be a red herring but i think she poisoned them mfs, personally • hmm why does steph know what hank would do in this situation like that flgdlgdl • maximus trying to protect thaddeus from danger • thaddeus calling cooper an abomination because he's a ghoul 😭🖐️ • the little scream thaddeus makes as the gulper gets him ❤️ • dogmeat really loved siggi ☹️ • cooper and lucy walking near an incinerated hollywood tour bus is so lmao why cooper walk past that • at first i thought cooper was displaying cruelty by not letting lucy drink his water but then it occurred to me it might be irradiated, the next scene with water like this, she gets sick from radiation from drinking water • lmao when he emptied the last drops of water in his canteen out in the sand in front of her 😭 • "ain't much stays clean up here, vaulty" he is talking about himself • lucy gazing at a billboard of vault boy, cooper shooting the face, then they cut to vault boy's origins being cooper--- • symbolism and parallels like this can kill a man but i did want to just say there's so many layers to this. to be short he has such contempt, shame for what he thinks he's done, people hundreds of years later worship this thing that represents the end of civilization and he feels responsibility because he was deceived as well. lucy none the wiser. she just thinks he's crazy and horrible for no reason. if only she knew. • the road to hell is paved with good intentions

[f1crecs]

Fic Rec List - Royalty AUs

if your fic is on this list and you don’t want it to be, please let me know and we will remove it immediately, no questions asked. we have contacted most of the authors on this list, but sometimes people fall through the gaps - just pop us a message🤍

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Charles/Pierre

it's you and me, that's my whole world by @singsweetmelodies | T | 10.4k

Charles is the Prince of Monaco, and Pierre is hopelessly devoted best friend. This fic has everything that I love about Charles and Pierre, and everything that I love about royalty au's! Despite his outward confidence, there is a lack of self-esteem that runs through Pierre. This reads very true to how I see Pierre, and it is a joy to read him struggle and come to terms with this. Charles is so lovable and humble, and I loved him so much! This author is so good at building tension, and creating conflicts and misunderstandings that feel very natural and fun to read. A great read!

'Charles is a prince, the heir apparent to the Monégasque principality, no less, while Pierre is just another engineering student. Who is he to think he can make Charles happier than the wealth of beautiful, classy and important people available to him? // His best friend, whispers that same voice in his heart, as treacherous as it is fierce. I am his best friend, and I know him better than any of them ever will. I have been by his side for his whole life, and I don't plan to leave anytime soon.

nsfw: i'm not one to need saving but I guess I'll give it a try by @river-ocean and @wolfiemcwolferson | E | 40k

Soulmate AU. Pierre is prince of a France that still has a monarchy. He is to marry by the time he turns 27, but hasn't yet found his soulmate. He meets Charles, an event planner, and they develop an easy friendship. This fic hits so many of my favourite royalty and soulmate tropes all in one. There is pining, there is a Prince who chafes against the bonds of royal duty, there is a commoner who isn't at all fazed by the fact his friend is a royal, and there is a soulmate bond that manages to cause more problems than it solves. Neither Pierre nor Charles want to impose their feelings upon one another, of course, to the exasperation of their friends. There is also a lovely recurring sun motif around Pierre, which just delights me.

Charles is not his - the blue handprint on his side, Pierre’s impending marriage and ridiculous soulmate-less status…Charles will never be his, but Pierre grabs his waist - ashamed at himself for it when Charles so very clearly did not like it - and he wishes he were. God, he wishes Charles could be his.

Alex/Charles

i can feel the sun on you by @liamlawsonlesbian | T | 12k

In this Roman Holiday inspired story, Alex, a freelance journalist, comes across a beautiful young man in the street. The man appears to be under the influence of drugs, and Alex takes him home overnight for his own safety. The man is the prince of Monaco, and when he realises he's been missing for a night now, decides to take a day off from being a royal and enjoy the city. This story is absolutely charming, and Alex quickly finds himself realising he cannot use this encounter for a story like he had planned to. Charles is absolutely giddy in his enjoyment of his day of anonymity, and it's no wonder Alex falls hard.

Alex has an armful of beautiful Frenchman, but what sounds like a dream is closer to a nightmare because a stranger seems close to asleep on his chest. The man’s shirt is very soft, and feels expensive, and he is either very drunk or there is some other substance involved, because he’s burrowing his face into Alex’s faded band tee, even though they’ve never seen each other before in their lives. Alex knows the smart thing to do would be to lean the guy back up against the wall of the cemetery and go home. But the stranger looks young, and soft, and there’s clearly something wrong. Alex tries to shake him awake. “Mate, where are you staying? Let’s get you home.” The man mutters a few words, which sound like “Youth leadership is the future.” Alex wonders, semi-hysterically, if the stranger is some kind of motivational speaker. It would explain how pretty he is. Alex takes a big, shuddering breath. Okay, so, his bloody stupid conscience is not going to let him leave the stranger here. The stranger is too out of it to remember where he’s staying. That only leaves one option – the stranger has to come home with Alex. Alex crouches and puts the stranger’s arm around his shoulders, and begins to trudge the ten blocks to his flat.

Charles/Carlos

are you wild like me? by @f1-stuff | 54k | M

This is a boarding school AU with a bit of a Young Royals feel. Charles, prince of Monaco, is enrolled for the final schooling year and makes friends with Carlos. Charles strives for a sense of normalcy but is never quite allowed to forget he is a royal. His friends, especially Carlos, do the best they can for him. Carlos has a tendency to be overprotective which backfires a bit, and he needs to learn to let go just a little.

Carlos feels a little giddy. In the span of a few hours, he’s gone from not having spoken to or seen Charles in almost a month, worried Charles was never coming back to Watford, to holding him, kissing him, coming for him... “I thought about you a lot,” Charles says, reminding Carlos that he’d asked a question. “...while I was at home. I was sad-” His voice cracks, and Carlos smooths a hand along Charles’ waist, offering some small comfort. “I was sad about my father. And I’d been sad about you for a while.” “Me?” “Yes,” Charles says. His fingertips rest gently against Carlos’ jaw. “I’ve felt...so lonely - for a long time. I love my family, and they love me, but my brothers don’t understand what it’s like for me - not really. And my parents...” He pauses, and Carlos knows he’s thinking of his father. “They have always wanted me to be happy. But I don’t think they ever imagined that being happy for me would mean...this.”

Carlos/Lando

nsfw: see you again by madlyiephase2 (madlyie_14) | E | 99k

Lando is fourth in line to the throne. Carlos is still an F1 driver. They meet when Lando presents a trophy at Silverstone, and begin an affair. Lando is chafing badly against his existence as a royal even before he meets Carlos. The self-discovery journey he goes on, in regards to his sexuality and also what he wants more broadly out of his life, is a big part of this story. The supporting cast is vibrant and breathe levity and grounding humour into Lando's life, especially George as his head of security, who is such a great character he is almost in danger of running away with the entire fic.

“My boyfriend. He's - his name is Lando." Ana snorted. "What, like the prince?" and Carlos looked around for help from somewhere because he really, really didn't know what to say to that. 'Yeah, exactly,' seemed a little stupid. Even though it was utterly, absurdly true. To Carlos' surprise, it was his father who looked at him, really looked at him and then, then he just started laughing, a full, deep laugh. Everyone turned to him like he had lost his mind but he simply shook his head. "Nothing halfway, Carletes. Nothing halfway."

Logan/Oscar

hopelessly devoted by indyd | T | 7.6k

Oscar is upset when he learns that his old bodyguard has been replaced. He gradually finds himself developing a different sort of attachment to Logan, his new guard. Logan's quiet devotion and the pair's mutual respect for one another in this story is just lovely. The relationship develops very gradually. I would love to read more of this story if the author is ever so inclined.

“I’m sorry,” Oscar interrupted his train of thought. He sounded miserable and, when Logan looked again at him, he looked miserable too. “Why?” Logan asked, feeling guilt overtake him. He’d been thinking horrific, inappropriate things while Oscar sat there, sad. He’d never seen Oscar look quite so sad, “It’s nothing to apologize for. You can’t help what you like.” Oscar blinked, then a bittersweet smile scrawled its way across his lips. Logan would take that smile, even such a weak one as this. “Stop being so nice,” Oscar sighed, “‘s too easy to misunderstand.”

George/Alex

all i do is try, try, try by @hrhgeorgerussell | T | 13.3k

Alex is the Prince of Wales, George is still an F1 driver. They have a relationship, but Alex withdraws when he realises that his royal duties will make it impossible. George is heartbroken and internalises the issue, thinking if he can just be more successful at his sport, Alex will want him. The stifling nature of Alex's existence as a royal, the longing from George's side, and the seeming impossibility of their relationship are all great royal AU themes. George's blaming himself for not being "good enough" feels very authentic.

George does not speak at first, and Alex is suddenly scared. He braces himself, prepared for the worst, about to tell him how proud he is and how well he drove despite everything. Nothing could have prepared him. “It's like there's glass in my lungs, Alex. It feel like there's glass inside me. Something's broken."

Charles/Seb

nsfw: the house by the sea by @hungriestheidi | M | 46.7k | wip

Charles is the Prince of Monaco, and Seb is his bodyguard. This story is incredible. Charles is such a compelling main character: despite being surrounded by people, there's a loneliness and a distance to those around him that is so beautifully explored. The unfurling of their attraction to each other is a joy to read. I love this fic!

'Sebastian is invisible most times. People don’t seem to notice he’s there until he believes a threat can take place. Charles spends hours wandering the streets of Monaco without feeling overwhelmed, it’s almost like he’s walking alone until someone stops him for a chat and the steady presence of his bodyguard makes itself known, a hand carefully pushing away the stranger’s arm.'

this list was compiled by @lydia-petze and @boxboxbrioche

[hwnglx]

begging on my hands and knees for an enhypen version of the skz handling jealous tarot reading please 🥺🥺😩❤️😘😍🥰💕♥️💖💙💗💜💞💓💛🖤💚❣️😻🧡💘💝💟🤍🤎🫀❤️‍🔥❤️‍🩹💌

enhypen when jealous

based on tarot. i do not know these idols personally. energies are always changing. what i say is NOT straight fact. pls take it with a grain of salt!

heeseung virgo venus

queofp, 9ofw, pagofsw, 3ofp+sun, 4ofp

heeseung will feel let down, like you betrayed his trust and devotion to some extent. he sincerely cares and cherishes the relationship, so he won't like the negativity at all. but since he's an extremely observant and tactful person, he won't just act in the moment or presume things. he'll prefer to keep watch on the situation and carefully think his next actions through. when will he confront you about it, what exactly will he say, which emotion will he be willing to express without it coming off as too much. (the virgo energy is big for him) he'll prefer staying rational and not get all upset or guilt trip you when asking you about the situation.

heeseung is a grounded lover who's not afraid of obstacles, since he thinks you two can solve anything by working on hardships together. he believes stability and closeness, especially in romantic connections, comes from discussing and communicating your thoughts in an unbiased and calm manner. he put so much effort into the relationship, that he wouldn't ruin all the hard work for some silly moment of jealousy that could be sorted by simply talking it out.

jay taurus venus

3ofw, knofprx, devil, char+9ofsw, knofsw

yeah, jay is very likely to lose his composure. although first, he'll try his best to approach the situation with patience and wait it out, in the end he'll fail pretty quickly. we all know this man gets possessive. (tbh, don't even see an opportunity for you to be left without him if you ever go out together. he'll stay with you constantly. probably wait for you outside the restroom) so once he sees you with someone else, most reason in him will go out the door and all he'll wanna do is quickly seperate you two. you'll see him confronting the other party in a very harsh and direct manner. especially verbally in a "how do you dare flirt with my girl/boy like that. get the f*ck away from her/him." type of way. he will hate everything about that sight and a lot of that anger will be accompanied by inner hurt. it'll stress him out a lot, so he'll just not be himself in that moment.

but, i can also see him blaming himself for getting so worked up over his jealous ways later, hating how he let this "bad habit" get the better of him. he'll probably calmly apologize to you after, and ask you whether you're okay. he didn't mean to get so irritated, and knows he can be too much sometimes.

jake scorpio venus

7ofsw, 3ofsw, devil, star, kingofsw&4ofw, hermitrx

although jake is definitely the type to easily get jealous as well, i can actually primarily see a lot of hurt for him here. he won't be overly confrontational over it (so much of his chart is just feeling feeling feeling but not much action), but instead remember it forever. i'm getting a lot of internalized pain here. he'll always hold on to that grudge, it'll remain as a pretty deep scar. like this man is sensitive. but he is equally as uncomfortable about openly displaying that emotional nature of his. he'll feel betrayed, like this relationship is so deep and meaningful to him.. how could you just do that to him?

he'll express that hurt by just turning stonecold, refusing to reunite with you for a few days, to process his emotions. he'll withdraw from you, not let you access him. his libra mars (i believe he's a libra rising too) just makes him awful at confrontation and blaming people for things. all the "payback" will be done indirectly, whether that's by just ignoring you, or even making you jealous in return. he'll probably flirt with your friend and make sure you find out or something. a lot of planning and strategies. he can be so vengeful, he'll love the thought of you feeling that same pain you gave him, and it'll all just be pretty dramatic and tiresome. i suggest not making scorpio stelliums jealous 👍🏻

sunghoon scorpio venus

9ofp, kingofc&8ofp, 5ofp, aceofc+knofsw, 3ofsw&devil

it's interesting, because everytime i read for sunghoon as a bf, it comes out very all or nothing. in general, he is a very tolerant and collected lover. meaning he won't feel extremely upset right away and make a whole scene. however, if the situation continues evolving and ends up going on for a little too long for his liking, he can lose grip of that mature and controlled composure, and let his feelings take over his actions.

i got the knight of swords for him, just like i did for jay, meaning he'll be very direct and straightforward in expressing his distate. he won't hide it. he can get extremely stern, very cut-throat and scary. though he could raise his voice sometimes, i don't see him screaming a lot. but, he'll definitely intimidate whoever had the guts to go to you by his gaze alone, and be very clear on how he'll make that person's life hell if they ever dare to approach you again. or, let you know he's okay with giving you your space, but don't you ever dare deceive him. "you exactly know i hate when you go out with that annoying guy. stop playing with me. do you think i'm stupid?" kinda thing.

i can see a huge shift in him once he gets affected negatively in romantic relationships, and people will be surprised to see his attitude turn so daunting. the jealousy will hurt him deep down, but he'll push through the burning sensation and just make sure you're by his side, away from that person.

sunoo gemini venus

4ofwrx&6ofwrx, queofw, 3ofsw+2ofc, 7ofsw, 3ofc&5ofsw

on the outside, sunoo will be very "oh, guess you weren't worthy of me." or "your loss, not mine." where he'll basically just put on this unbothered and "oh well." kind of attitude and shrug it off. (sorry for all the quotes here lmao it's just very sunoo) he is aware that he's a very desirable person and there's many others wanting to be with him. so, he knows he could just get with some other person, and very much be fine in that regard.

however, the three of swords with the two of cups, shows me deep down, he's actually someone who is much more in need of emotionally intimate relationships, than he likes to admit. in reality, it will cause him to feel quite disappointed. he will feel like he can't trust anyone, and you were just another person who let him down. since he usually can take a while to truly let people into his heart, rather than just making friends superficially, it'll cause him to feel like his doubts were validated. he wishes he could say he wouldn't have expected it from you, but somehow he kinda did. he'll put on an unfazed and cheerful mask. but beyond that, he'll feel pretty hopeless and defeated, about you just hurting him that carelessly.

jungwon aries venus

world, devil&7ofp, just, aceofc, 8ofw, 3ofsw&8ofsw, pageofc

jungwon will feel frustrated. he will have this conflict inside him, between feeling legitimately jealous, like we're talking the devil.. ego bruised, feeling trapped and tempted to just let his frustration out. while at the same time wanting to remain reasonable and calm. i do see him doing a good job at holding back though, and patiently waiting out the situation.

he'll make a genuine effort to communicate with you (he just needs to let his frustration out somehow) and sincerely try to stay sweet, and understanding. i do however, also see him feeling pretty hurt by whatever he saw (three of swords again), but him just really hating the fact that he was emotionally affected. he'll most likely stay collected and composed on the outside, but will struggle with the jealousy and his hurt ego deep inside. probably think about it at night while you're sleeping or something. the page of cups in the end is pretty sweet, as it points to him making romantic offers of some kind, to make up for the negativity and distract you both. maybe take you out on an extra beautiful and fun date to not only make things good between you two, but also ease the annoying pain he felt without wanting to.

as i stated before, i adore riki, but including a minor in readings with romantic undertones just doesn't seem right to me. pls be respectful of that.. thank you for reading 🤍

[thedragonagelesbian]

OC Smash or Pass

Tagged by: @omgkalyppso

Tagging: @hexblooddruid & anyone else who wants to do it!!

Rules: Include physical descriptions or pics, and propaganda. The “other” label can be used for “sexuality misalignment” (ie: oc is femme and you’re gay, vice versa or you aren’t into smashing but a specific thing you wanna do with them like perhaps hug or study them under a microscope idk).

(Side note as an ace lesbian my answer to smash/pass is almost always 'pass' apwefjiewf but I like any excuse to share more Cyrus stuff)

Cyrus Hawke

(pick your flavor mdsfiopjewif)

QUICK FACTS

Height: 5'9"

Age: Depends on the timeline, but baseline ~120 (~25 in elf years)

Gender: Trans man

Pronouns: He/him

Sexuality: Polyam bi

PROS

Attentive & caring partner; your pleasure is his number one priority

Very flexible & amenable-- comfortable keeping things casual or being more serious, topping or bottoming, three (or more)-somes, experimenting with kink

Sensitive elf ears

Oral fixation -> gives great head

Paladin muscles for holding you tight while hugging, cuddling, shielding your body with his own, etc.

Bruises easily (likes being bruised)

Can't cook but will make the best cup of coffee you've ever had

CONS

Insufferable morning person

If there are serious romantic feelings involved, he's liable to make unhinged and self-destructive declarations of devotion

Can't/won't dom

No but for real selfless to the point of neglecting himself, and can struggle to articulate his own needs & desires

Overprotective

Always operating in 'I can fix that' mode; it's hard for him to not immediately jump to problem solving

Trusting & forgiving to a fault

DETAILS

Will kill for you, will die for you, guard dog through and through

Loves nature, gardening, and lavender

Has a low alcohol tolerance; will start singing and/or proposing depending on how drunk he gets

Can't sit still to save his life but will settle down to listen to the people he loves talk-- about anything; he finds it very calming

Enjoys a long, soaking bath

Often feels alienated from his body and uses sex and physical intimacy to ground himself in it

[queereads-bracket]

Queer Fiction Free-for-All Book Bracket Tournament: Preliminary Round

Book summaries below:

Little God by R. Cooper

Melis, the fledgling God of Desire in All Its Forms, is of course aware of the famously beautiful and famously unwed King Antero. Though the human king has been approached by many suitors, all have been intimidated by the strength of his remarkable heart. The lonely Antero has been praying for a companion, a friend who will stay by his side if he is not meant to find the other half of his soul. For years, he has been making those prayers to Melis.

Known by many names including Melis the Prankster and Melis the Cruel, Melis is blamed by humans and gods alike if he answers their wishes—and if he doesn’t—and almost never thanked for the stories that turn out well. He has listened to Antero’s yearning without responding, secretly pleased to have the noble king’s devotion for himself, but mostly convinced there is no one on earth who could ever be Antero’s equal.

But when some of the elder gods insist Melis would serve the world better if he knew anything of desires for himself, the little God of Desire decides to visit the private chambers of the king and finally respond to his most faithful servant—only to find himself wanting to answer the king’s wish in a more personal way than he’d anticipated. Melis might be divine, but one clever human king is more than a match for him, especially once Antero decides it’s time for Desire to learn something of Love.

Romance, fantasy, novella, adult

One Stormy Day in New Providence by E. Jade Lomax and K. Sundberg

An heiress, a diplomat’s daughter, an undercover auditor, a corporate spy, an ex-detective, and a fraud walk into the small field office of a major insulation corporation. Half are there under their proper names. Only one is there to do the job they were hired for. The punchline is friendship.

The selfsame cast could also be described as five liars and one truth-teller; four on-the-clock employees and two interlopers; or a thief, three people trying to solve the same conspiracy from different angles, an ex-boyfriend, and a woman who desperately deserves a nap.

They are a single mom (and grandma!), a PhD candidate, the victim of a coercion campaign, a veritable genius with debilitating attention and anxiety disorders, a man trying very hard not to be in love, and a young woman who packs her girlfriend PB&J’s every day because it’s the only thing she can reliably make edible.

When a magical storm falls over the city– a storm that freezes not the flesh from your bones, but fries the circuits in your brain– our crew of technicians and tricksters must set out to fix all that’s gone wrong.

Fantasy, urban fantasy, mystery

[atomic--peach]

Her Grace's Handmaiden Pt 23

(Cersei Lannister x Fem Reader, brief one sided Lancel Lannister x Fem Reader. Disclaimer: While Lancel's age is unstated in the show, in the books he is canonically 17. However, since the show ages everyone up by 2-3 years and we've been going by Show ages instead of Book ages so far , Lancel in this fic would be 19-20.

SMUT: male masturbation )

AO3 version: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48276340

Lannister Reign over the continent seemed to be solidifying with every passing day One Baratheon brother dead, the other cast back into the sea. Jaime was off fighting for control of the Riverlands against the Stark pup. Joffrey on the throne with his grandfather as Hand to the King, and Cersei looming over all shoulders, waiting for something to do.

She needed a distraction. Something to take her mind off the thoughts barreling through her brain.

There were the usual concerns, of course. Her dreadful little brother. The Stark Girl, who was more use to them alive but sulked around the keep like a kicked dog.

Speaking of dogs.

She shook her head.

Don't think on that, there's no point to it.

And yet she couldn't stop herself. She pictured you that night, standing in the darkness of your quarters with knowing eyes that looked almost eager for the Queen to get closer. Cersei couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if she had forced you into the Holdfast with the other ladies.

You'd still be here, of course.

But that look you gave Cersei. A look to chill the blood of even the most hardened of warriors. It was the look of a predator just waiting for its prey to move into the perfect position.

But that was nonsense, Cersei knew that.

You were devoted to her, even in anger. Each time Cersei sent you away, you had always come back. You never would have left her Queen's side if you hadn't been forced to.

This was the delusion Cersei labored under for weeks, even now despite the idea being brushed off by everyone else.

She brought her distress to her father and Joffrey, and both looked at her like she had grown a second head.

"Forgive me." Tywin squinted slowly as if he didn't understand. "But it is my understanding that upon marriage, a wife becomes as one with her husband both spiritually and legally. Lady Clegane is the man's wife, therefore there can be no issue of kidnapping."

"All the same" Cersei fumed, outraged that they would not see sense. "He should be found and hanged as a deserter. If we find him, we find Lady Clegane."

"We are at war" Joffrey scoffed, "We do not have the spare men to send after a stray dog and his bitch."

Cersei wanted to pull his ear for that. She had been unprepared for the harsh change in her dynamic with her son. He no longer listened to her and did not seek her advice or her counsel.

When he discovered the truth of Robert's many bastards, he sent the city watch to slaughter them all, grown and babes alike.

When Cersei heard of this, she was stunned. Yes, it solved the issue of the truth Jon Arryn discovered, but it also gave those who resented Lannister presence a rallying cry against Cersei and her family

"The Queen Slaughters Babies" Tyrion had said with a dark smirk.

Tywin insisted Cersei at least try to keep some kind of control over her son, but the boy king resisted with every attempt.

That made it sting all the more when Tywin himself succeeded where Cersei had failed with her child.

Tywin had him settled, more willing to thin before acting, and betrothed to Margery Tyrell, whom Cercei resented and watched carefully.

If you were here, Cersei thought, you would know what to say to cheer her. You would call Margery a snub-nosed little girl and laugh with Cersei at the very idea of such a welp replacing her.

"She could never hold a candle to you, Your Grace" you would say, cheeks rosy and eyes smiling. "Rose or not."

Why had you left? Cersei knew why, she wasn't stupid.

She did regret what had happened. You had wanted that baby so badly. I should have just had that dog put down, Cersei thought to herself, that would have been enough.

Yes, it would have hurt you, but you would have gotten over it. You would have had your baby to look after, and Cersei by your side.

Cersei allowed herself to linger on this alternative path, as it was so much more pleasant than her current reality.

Cersei would have moved you closer to the royal quarters, perhaps even into her rooms. The babe would be attended to by a nanny and wetnurse, as all highborn children were.

I could have given them more, Cersei frowned.

A head start for the boy, he would have been set to be someone's squire. Perhaps Jaime's. From there he could take on the role his father had taken, sworn sword to the King's children. Or, on the off chance the boy had been small, unfit for the battlefield, he could have even been sent to Oldtown to be educated.

Would she have loved him? Cersei wondered. Not as she loved her own children, surely. But, he would have been the apple of his mother's eye. I would have cared for him, Cersei decided firmly, not loved, but cared for.

And how well you would have thrived as a mother. You were so good with little Tommen and Myrcella, it would have come naturally.

After The Hound died, what would be done with you?

You could remain forever a widow, that would be the preferred route. You could not be trusted not to love, and in Cersei's view, it was only natural for everyone to fall in love with you eventually.

If the silly fool had been smart enough not to fall for her first husband, none of this would have happened.

If you did remarry though, it would have to be a weak man. One who did not ask questions and did not interfere.

She had thought the Hound good at not interfering. Perhaps Cersei had been blind to it, but he had never seemed resentful of your affections for your Queen. But why else would he have stolen you from the Keep in the Night like a common thief?

you must be so worried, Cersei realized.

Did you know they had won? That they were still alive?

The poor dear was snatched up and swept away like a maiden in a story, she thought fretfully, you must be so confused and frightened.

Enough of this. Cersei slapped her palm to the smooth table top she sat at, nursing a goblet of wine. If they would not do anything, she would.

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

"You asked to see me, your grace?"

"Yes, come in." Cersei eyed the sell sword up and down. To consider this man a knight would be an affront to the very notion of chivalry, regardless of the "Ser" they put before his name.

"I find myself in need of some help." She began. "I have a problem, and the crown has made it clear they will not intervene, so I am seeking outside assistance."

Bronn nodded understandingly. "May I ask as to the nature of the problem?"

"My favorite, The Lady Clegane, do you know her?"

"Know of her, the uh…" He tried to find a word he could get away with in the present company, "the pretty one the Hound married. I saw her."

"She was kidnapped by her husband from the keep the night Stannis attacked the city. I want her brought back, and I want that barbarian's throat slit."

Bronn considered this. "That can be arranged. It'll take some asking around though, not many men would be willing to track down a man that big and that good with a sword. And they'll be asking for a pretty penny to do it."

"Money is of no object, I assure you," Cersei smirked. "I want her brought back alive and unharmed."

"I'll find the man for the job, your grace." Bronn smiled coyly, "Of course, there is a matter of a finder's fee…"

"Find me a man who can do the job. If he comes back alive with Lady Clegane unharmed, you will be rewarded handsomely." Cersei assured him.

Bronn's grin widened at this, "I will start straight away, Your Grace."

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

Lancel stared at the ceiling over his bed blankly.

His wound still burned with infection, and his brow was damp with feverish sweat.

The Maester said he would have died if not for the quick dressing of his wound. He had you to thank for that, he thought fondly.

He made good his vow to Clegane and told his father to find him a wife that could get him out of King's Landing, and Kevin Lannister acted swiftly, glad to see that his son was finally taking adult responsibility seriously.

But while the Frey girl Kevin had betrothed him to was kind and plain-faced with noble intentions, Lancel's mind could not help but stray.

He hated himself for it. It was an affront to the gods, disrespectful to the man who had covered his crimes, and dishonored the very lady his affections yearned for.

His soul was still wracked with guilt, how he had been the one to summon you to Cersei's chambers that night. He had no way of knowing what would happen, he told himself, no way at all.

And even after what happened, when he confessed before you and your husband the Queen's crime and his unintentional part in it, though he might die, and if he did it would be well deserved.

But instead, you bore him no ill will, neither of you did. You had even taken valuable time to tend to his wounds when he was injured. "Come with us" you had urged him, and he wanted to follow so badly.

But his honor would not allow it, nor his pride.

And in the end, they won, despite everything.

When the battlefield cleared, Lancel found he could not judge Clegane for what he had done. Win or Lose, nothing would have changed for you. You would still be trapped, your son would still be dead, and you would have to look into the face of your child's killer every day.

He could still picture the beach, war raging only a few hundred yards from them as you held his hand in yours.

Even in plain wool, stripped of any court finery that might have disguised you for a snobbish highborn, you were still so beautiful.

Had Clegane not been there, had they been alone on that beach, would Lancel have dared to kiss you as he had so wanted to in that moment?

It was horrible to think, he knew that. You were a married woman, with a husband who not only loved but respected you. And you were his senior by ten years or more, what could you ever want with someone like him? Little more than a boy in tin armor with a toy sword when compared to The Hound.

As he pondered in the darkness, the arm on Lancel's good side began to move over his hip to rest on his lower stomach. Absentmindedly his long fingers played at the edge of his waistband.

He wished you were here. You had been so kind, so attentive when you nursed his wound as he sat on your bed. Even in the midst of the pain and the noise of the battle still ringing in his ears, the touch of your hands on his body was startlingly gentle.

He imagined how soft your touch had been on his face, all those times you had cupped his cheek gently, in the cellars by candlelight, in the garden surrounded by flowers. How those soft hands would feel against his bare chest, nursing him still with those sad eyes. How you'd press a cold cloth to his brow to soothe his fever.

"My poor Lion" he could hear you breathe, "Let me take care of you."

He gasped as your small hand gripped the length of his shaft and stroked him slowly but firmly. He did not protest, only whimpering with need as you leaned over him to plant a kiss on his brow. Your chest hovered just out of his reach until you drew him close and laid his head on your breast.

"Sweetling." You coaxed him gently, "You must rest, let me help you."

He nodded in agreement and very nearly cried out as you picked up the pace, lavishing tender attention on his sensitive tip each time your fingers pumped his cock.

"Please" he whined, face buried in the warm softness of your breasts as the sensation overwhelmed him. The beckoning smell of your hair, the musical tone of your sweet voice. "Please. I need you; I need you; I love you. Please."

You laughed lightly at his gasping chant, watching his hips buck against your hand.

"I know, darling, I know. Just breath. You're doing so well, so close."

His release came quickly, and just as soon as you were there, you were gone. Your warmth replaced by a cool pillow; your small soft hand replaced by his own nimble fingers.

Even as he traced the sensitive tip of his cock, drawing out more jerks and whines, Lancel felt a wave of shame wash over him.

But more powerful than shame was desire. The desire to sleep, the desire to dream. Perhaps you would visit him again tonight if he was lucky.

[according2thelore]

happy wincest wednesday!!! i really want to pay it forward from the ask you sent me last week and ask what you (both?) think sam and dean's favorite books are! i mostly answered based on what books i had already read, so i'm really curious if in the books you've read you'd have different opinions! if not though (or in addition if you'd like!), i'd love to know what you think their favorite movies are, too :) give dean's favorite medium a moment in the spotlight, too 💖 (@incesthemes)

hi! happy wincest wednesday!

hmm--i think sam has a long, enduring, passionate love affair with the hardy boys and nancy drew books. i think he longs in some ways to be the hardy boys/nancy drew, because they get to solve mysteries and be hypercompetent while also having a secure home environment. in nancy's case, she's popular and has a boyfriend and also gets to explore thick tomes of town lore. they were so easy to find at libraries across america, and super easy to steal/shoplift because of how thin they were.

(dean also makes fun of him by calling him a hardy boy for a long time, i imagine. you also cannot tell me dean would not get an absolute fucking kick out of calling sam "nancy")

i also think that as he gets older, he gets more bitter/disillusioned about both series, but still has a secret fondness for seeing their covers in bookstores.

as he gets older (high school age), sam definitely gravitates towards more gothic, as you mentioned! i think he finds wuthering heights compelling, but can't quite put his finger on it, and never tells dean because dean would make fun of him for liking such a girly book. science fiction/horror novellas are also fun to him (frankenstein, poe, dracula, jekyll, the murders in rue morgue).

we know dean is a closet intellectual at his own choice, so i imagine he steals/lifts books from libraries/stores, and keeps them in the bottom of his duffle. i think a lot of this happens after sam leaves for college and dean suddenly has 80 hours of free time a week now that he's not huffing sam's boxers and staring at him lovingly in the rearview mirror.

in terms of books that they had to read (and inevitably read/reread over and over again as they move to schools that haven't read them yet):

sam likes: tale of two cities by dickens, telltale heart by poe, in cold blood by capote, inferno by dante, to kill a mockingbird by lee, yellow wallpaper by gilman, matilda by dahl sam HATES: romeo and juliet by shakespeare, heart of darkness by conrad, a separate peace by knowles (he hates that he finds himself in gene), tess of the d'urbervilles (bc he also hates he strangely relates to it)

dean likes: in cold blood by capote, hamlet by shakespeare, 1984 by orwell, lord of the flies by golding, and then there were none by christie, count of monte christo by dumas, any western he can get his hands on dean HATES: frankenstein by shelley, a good man by o'conner (HATES IT), catcher in the rye by salinger (it makes him angry that he gets called out), lolita by nabokov (it makes him a little nauseous how much he likes it, he agrees that humbert is a pedophile, but the depth of the "devotion" there makes him ill), dense histories like war and peace/tale of two cities/les miserables, etc.; he hates anything by dostoevsky--he finds the morality to be posturing and tiresome

i think they BOTH love the LOTR series--books and movies. as they both canonically watch GOT together as adults (and considering dean is more into LARPing than he likes to admit) i think they both love fantasy.

dean saw two towers while sam was away at college and has been dreaming nonstop of dying in an epic battle protecting those he loves in heroic and sexy ways like in the battle for helms deep.

but he still mostly refuses to watch the parts with frodo/sam in return of the king because "frodo is annoying" (because he gets uncomfortable and scared when frodo and sam touch foreheads and cry and sam picks up frodo because he can't carry the ring but he can carry frodo, and hearing frodo scream sam's name in agony makes him nauseous)

dean swears he likes LOTR for the fights but sam knows better.

(secretly, i think dean used to read chapters of the hobbit to sam when he was really small. it's the first book john buys him after the fire because john grew up with his own dad reading it to him before he disappeared.)

i think as an adult, dean gravitates towards more crime thrillers. they have clean cut endings, and he likes how the main character is usually a grizzled, alcoholic washup looking for redemption with his estranged wife (he completely cannot relate). he also likes brandon sanderson until he finds out Nerds also like them, so he gives up on them.

and i think sam might gravitate towards nonfiction/realistic fiction/historical fiction. he doesn't want to read about quests, he doesn't want to read about chosen ones, he doesn't want to read about brothers having to watch each other die, he doesn't want to read about how Bad is Always Bad.

bonus: they both read 50 shades after the craze in like 2015, and dean was scandalized to read this in a book while sam was like...this is it? he hits her a couple of times??

i've mentioned this a MILLION times, but i think they both love the die hard movie series. mostly the first one, and mostly dean, but they try to catch the marathons on cable every christmas.

dean loves the lost boys (because COME ON OF COURSE HE DOES!!! little brother and vampires and the good guys win! no moral complexity!), ghost busters, roadhouse, quick and fast murder mysteries with easy solutions, dirty dancing, tombstone, rocky, jaws, and--secretly--little women. he cries like a fucking kid being dragged away from a candy store.

sam loves indiana jones, star trek, friday the 13th (bc if he follows the Horror Movie rules, he and his family are safe!), the rear window, ET, it's a wonderful life (a movie about how your life has meaning even if you think you're making everyone's life worse...come on...), and a million arthouse movies about how life is strange and vulnerable.

they both like/watch together: star wars, bill & ted's excellent adventure, die hard, jurassic park, LOTR, the early 2000 fantastic four movies (they're not good, but they're mindless; dean wants to be johnny storm and sammy would DIE to be reed; dean likes to joke that sam's jessica alba instead), oceans 11

sam doesn't like monster movies anymore. dean doesn't like war movies anymore.

THIS WAS SO MUCH LOL I'M SO SORRY--i have a lot of thoughts about their favourite books/movies apparently! thank you so much for this ask--it was SO FUN to answer, lol! <3

i have texted charlotte and will reblog with her opinions when she responds! (she is busy gworl)

-lizzy

[rudnitskaia]

Augusto Venza...

At first sight you’ll see a tired grumpy middle-aged man, whose glance is so heavy that can almost kill, and who works in the kitchen of his own small eatery in St. Louis. But would you believe that once there was a lively lighthearted guy behind his shell?

Augusto was born in 1885 and raised in a small village in Piemonte. His family owned a small vineyard and sold their wines through their neighbors, the Riva family. But Gusto had many other ways to occupy himself besides the family business. Very... nasty ways. Gusto Venza was not a mere firecracker, he was a freaking BOMB. He was loud, he was reckless, he was hot-headed as hell in both his words and actions. A troublemaker is a word too dim to describe his behavior in youth. He and his best friend Leone Riva were the headache of the whole village. It all settled down a bit in 1902, when the Riva family migrated to the U.S., and Augusto was entrusted with the duty to sell the wines himself. To tell the truth, Gusto wasn't smart or experienced enough for such a task, but he coped with it somehow, purely with the help of his own irrepressible energy and charm that were truly hard to resist.

That's why, when he ended up in Turin in 1904 and met Federica, the daughter of one of the wealthy customers, the spark between two 18-year-olds turned into the fire so quickly.

And very soon Federica found herself pregnant.

There was a huge scandal. And though Gusto did all he could to marry Federica, her family rejected his proposal. They insisted that the only way of solving such a disastrous accident is to break Federica and Augusto apart and to send the child into the orphanage after their birth. To Augusto's highest disappointment, Federica refused to go against her parents will, no matter how hard he tried to change her mind. She was too afraid to do so. But Gusto was stubborn enough to convince Federica's parents at least to give him the child. A few bribes, and in 1905 newborn Maura was registered under her father’s surname and without any real mother's name mentioned.

That was supposed to be a happy ending, but Gusto's father and stepmother also refused to help him. “It will be a fatal blow for the family’s reputation and business”, that’s what they told, when he returned home with a baby in his arms.

So, Augusto, furious and offended, cut all ties with Federica and his own family, took the baby and tried to start his life with a clean slate. But three lonely years in Turin destroyed him to the core. It was a miracle that both he and Maura survived those harsh times. Gusto was poor as dirt, had no support and had troubles finding a stable job, because he often skipped the shifts in order to take care of Mau. Only in 1908 Augusto's devastation was literally cried out in the letter to Leone. Not expecting any sympathy, Gusto told him everything he hid before out of shame. By that moment he has already faced the fact that his own failures led him to such a horrible life. But he simply couldn't hold it inside anymore.

Still, his best friend didn't abandon him. Instead, Leone sent Augusto some money and invited him to New York. Gusto had nothing to lose, so he packed his meagre possessions and headed to the U.S. with his daughter.

To say that the Riva family helped Augusto would be an understatement. In every sense they saved his life. Gave him a job in the kitchen of their cafe&bar in South Village, a small corner to live until he manages to rent a room by himself, looked after Mau when he couldn’t. No wonder Augusto became the most loyal and devoted person to the Riva family and was ready to do literally anything for them and Leone in particular. By the time when Prohibition started Leone became the one who ran the business, and when he decided to turn the bar into a speakeasy, Augusto didn't say a word against and stayed Leone’s right-hand man, delivering moonshine and doing many unsavory things. In 1923 he even allowed Maura to play pool on bets there, when she was offered that job. He wasn’t blind; he knew Mau was talented and he, as a truly loving father, respected her decision to try to catch her luck. Moreover, despite Augusto had no faith in criminal patrons who covered Leone's speakeasy, he trusted Leone with his life, so Augusto's condition for Maura’s occupation in the gambling club at the speakeasy was simple: his daughter must stay untouched. Only playing pool and nothing else.

Everything seemed to be fine until one awful night in 1926 Maura returned home all pale, shaking and deadly silent, with some bruises and her hair and dress ruined. The memory of his shivering daughter, of her teary eyes with a blank sight, still chases Augusto in his worst nightmares. When Maura after a few hours finally whispered the name, Augusto's rage was ready to burst out like a volcano.

And he didn't suppress it. The very next day he massacred the security and... well, let's just say that after what Augusto did to that criminal lord the latter considered being shot as a merciful blessing. From him Augusto also stole the papers that could expose one of the powerful criminal syndicates in New York, including involvement of some corrupt authorities.

…and only then he understood what a horrible mess he had created.

So, as usually, he came to Leone, told him everything and gave him those crucial papers, because these documents could have destroyed Leone’s business and endangered his family as well, and bringing them to the police or some press would have been totally unwise. After much deliberation, Leone and Augusto decided that the latter will leave the city with his daughter, while Leone will secretly keep the documents and try to play the poor cards they got to avoid as much damage and gain as much profit from that awful situation as possible.

Augusto immediately took Maura and fled from New York to the unknown direction, leaving the syndicate in the full confidence that he is the one who has broken one of the crucial gears of the syndicate and is holding both 'the valuable asset' Maura and the dangerous documents. Since then the Venza family has scurried from place to place, moved from state to state, covering their tracks, and tried to lie as low as possible. Augusto became completely jammed to the thought that he can't send his daughter away and wander alone, because if she is found, he won't be able to protect her, being far away, and that twisted his caring and protective nature into something nearly paranoidal. All their money rapidly melted away into nothing. From July of 1926 to March of 1927, the Venza family spent relatively quietly in Kansas City, even opening a small eatery; until Augusto in a call receives a hint from Leone that Kansas City may as well become unsafe for them soon. So, in April of 1927, the Venza family ends up in St. Louis, where they also rent a small place for the eatery and do their best to live a quiet, unremarkable life away from any criminal activities. Cherishing the hope that their past will fade into oblivion someday.

However, St. Louis has its own underworld, and who knows, what will happen, if the Venza family becomes involved into it again. But that’s a whole other story to tell…