#and this system still hurts you even if you feel like you're more protected by it

[clonerightsagenda]

While talking with people about the ways FMA approaches the topic of Ishval, I've realized it falls into a SFF trend I jokingly call "are we the baddies?" stories. These are stories that focus on characters from a colonialist and/or imperialist society who are active parts of the imperial project, and they often spend most of their time investigating harms coming to people within the empire. Examples include Imperial Radch and the Locked Tomb. (Nona has started to move beyond that, although the core characters in Nona remain former high status imperial citizens.)

What I've noticed is that these stories are often written by comparatively privileged residents of imperial/settler colonialist nations (America, Aotearoa, Japan, specifically Hokkaido). Something that has also interested me is that there's often a level of distancing imposed through the characters' races. Many of the 'are we the baddies' stories by white authors that I've read have mostly brown characters (whether this is because ambiguously brown spacefutures are trendy, it's a quick way to check the diversity box without having to research culture, or they don't want to ask us to sympathize with white imperial villains, idk) whereas FMA makes its fascist military state European and Germanic-influenced, gesturing toward Japan's imperial history via a former ally without confronting it directly.

I've seen enough of these that I wonder if it's people trying to grapple with what it means when instead of being one of the scrappy rebels fighting the faceless evil empire, you are a citizen of the evil empire. What does it mean to be part of that system when you consider yourself, your family, your friends to be good people? How do you become more and more complicit? What can you do about it?

That's a storyline that will probably hit people differently depending on whether it's a question they're wrestling with or if they've been victimized by these systems and never had to stop to go "huh are those the baddies"? And there's certainly room to criticize stories like these for glossing over the damage done to external victims of empire, but I think they're deliberately focusing on people within the system for a reason.

[lvlyghost]

I love your stories so much I can't 😫😍😍❤️

Could you maybe write a angst to fluff ghost x reader story where the reader gets injured badly while ghost is on her side the whole time in the hospital while she is unconscious and he's having breakdowns and anxiety and all really angsty stuff and when she wakes up she comforts him and all is fluffy and maybe a bit smutty 🤭

No More Stars Left to Count

PAIRINGS: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

SUMMARY: Few things made Simon break down. Almost losing his girl takes a toll on him.

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

TW: Smut! MDNI! Angst, hurt, comfort. Injuries. Panic attacks. Grammar mistakes just the usual... Do not read if you're under 18.

A/N: I'm actually quite happy with this one🥹🩷 Enjoy Anon! This is my first time posting smut and in another language so sorry in advance if there are mistakes! Corrections are appreciated ✨🐝

Masterlist✨

Simon's head rests on his left hand, his eyes bore into your fragile body. Several machines are attached to you, helping you breathe, pumping meds into your system. He doesn't deserve you by any means. He doesn't deserve your trust, your laughter, your body.

All he can think about— as his brown orbs can't find the strength to look away— is how miserably he had failed to protect his team. To protect you. It's been twelve days and you still don't show any signs of waking up; it wasn't abnormal for you to not wake up. The damage inflicted to your body had been great. Simon thought for a painful moment he had lost you for good. The woman he cared for. The woman he utterly loved.

He swallows hard.

There aren't many things that'd scare him. He's simply seen too much. But this? Was this truly his destiny? To lose everyone he loved? His family and now you?

He inhales sharply, his free hands traces your inert hand, tracing soft patterns on your pale skin littered with cuts and bruises. That very hand he adores to hold when you were together. He blinks, memories from your last night together flooding his brain as he sinks further down the chair, adjusting the hoodie over his head.

The night before leaving for the mission in Romania.

-

"No, wait look Simon! Give it to me!" You chuckle, under the covers, both of your bodies remain warm. It wasn't unusual that Simon couldn't sleep so he'd often come into your room and spend the night with you. "There." You pointed out. Your hand and his hand stretched out in front of you, slowly you touch his, spreading out your palms comparing hands. Your eyelashes flutter at the mere sight of his big calloused hand outsize yours, completely engulfing it. You splay out your fingers until they're intertwined.

His breath catches in his throat. He loved how small you were compared to him. He wanted to protect you from everything even from himself, but you had refused to leave him when he tried to push you away.

"Come here." He grabs your arm pining you down and under his gargantuan body. You squeal, laughing at the sudden change of position; Simon sets his body between your legs. Your arms rest on his sides, layers of muscle tensing under your touch. Tilting your head back, eyes meet the dark sky outside the window.

"Look at them." You mumble, Simon lays a kiss on your neck taking advantage. He loves the feeling of your steady pulse on his lips. "The stars are so bright tonight." He hums absentmindedly, hands coming to grip his blond locks.

There's a fire burning in your belly and the ache between your thighs when you feel the tent forming through his grey sweatpants.

"Need you, love." He grumbles. His hands undress your bottom half making you gasp.

"Simon..." soft pink lips kiss your body. Your chest, your stomach... until he's lost between your legs. Mouth lapping at your wetness. You squirm under his touch, it's intoxicating. It feels like you might combust. The fire running through your veins, the goosebumps on your sensitive flesh as you clench around nothing. Unable to resist it you grab him by the arms. "You know what I need." In the blink of an eye two bodies intertwined moving desperately chasing the sweetest end together. He murmurs soft encouraging words in your ear that sent shockwaves through your veins, Simon couldn't possibly be more deep inside you, hitting that sensitive spot that made you want to scream, nails digging on his back, surely leaving red marks that he would proudly show tomorrow.

The purple and orange that tinges the sky outside filters through the window, casting an ethereal display of colors around this room that hides away the few moments you get to spend with him as you finish together; feeling impossibly more in love with him.

"It's clearing already." You point out. Simon looks up from your eyes, albeit reluctant to miss the beautiful shade of your orbs. "No more stars left..."

He kisses your forehead, then bumps his nose against you before he finds your mouth.

"There'll be plenty more to count tomorrow, sweetheart. I promise."

But you're not counting them as he promised the night before. Instead he's shouting orders like an enraged man. Heart beating out of his chest, you were so close to the evac point with your squad. Five minutes ago he had squeezed your arm and kissed your temple before urging you to get in the land rover from the SAS. Only to watch it blow seconds later. His heart stopped and then the ringing in his eardrums.

It was an ambush.

And as the rest covered him he rushed to you.

The blood. Crimson blood all over the bodies. He knew what this meant.

"Sergeant!" He forces his body to move, dragging you by the straps of your combat vest to take cover behind one of the vehicles. He knows he shouldn't be moving you like that, but right now he can't think of anything else than getting you out of there... "Bloody fucking hell!" He roars.

What was that feeling, like his soul was being ripped apart...?

-

Releasing a shaky breath, Simon squeezes your hand once again careful not to hurt you. The IV in your hand too foreign. It's too much. The sight, the memories of the vehicle flying through the sky...

The pit in his stomach grows, a wave of nausea and uneasiness hitting him all of the sudden. Simon stands on wobbly legs, taking one last glance at you he steps out the ICU. Crouching down he yanks the balaclava from his face. Why was his chest so tight, and his vision filled with blackness? The incessant ring on his ears is real. Fucking real. It was supposed to be a nightmare... this thing pulling him down.

"Come back to me baby." He pleads in a hushed tone although he knows you can't hear him. Simon lifts his hands to find support on the wall in front of him. He breathes as much air as he can through his nose, tries to blink away the black dots.

"Lieutenant Riley?" A feminine voice wafts through the empty hallway reaching him. He holds out a shaky finger without even looking at her.

"Leave..." he warns.

"Sir? I...-" the nurse hesitates.

"Now!" He barks.

She scurries away but not before calling the doctors and the Captain to the med wing.

Simon stays there until his ragged breathing evens, he then goes back to your room, deep down he hopes—prays— that your eyes will open when you hear him. But you don't. He sits again on the couch where he's tried to sleep, tossing the mask away from him. His throat bobs, what's happening to him? It burns. The door creaks open revealing a concerned John who looks at him in disapproval.

"This isn't going to help anyone Simon." He scolds him.

"What do you want Price?"

"You need to sleep. And for... just for the love of God eat something son."

"Not until I know she'll be fine."

Price sighs closing the door behind him.

"She wouldn't want this." Even then, Price doesn't want to look at you. This had taken a toll on everyone. But Simon wasn't handling it well. Rubbing his eyes he scoffs. "Come on go get some rest I can stay."

"No." Both men stare at each other not wanting to back down. "I'm on leave you don't get to tell me what to do Price."

John crosses his arm.

"I'm worried Simon. I want her to be okay too. We all do."

Simon's jaw clenched, hands balling into fists. They don't really know. They don't know, can't comprehend the extent of his love for you.

"What if this was your girl? Would you leave her fucking side hm?"

A tense pause electrifies the air as the two glare at each other, oblivious to the other person whose eyes are tearing.

The beeping sound increases as your heart rate goes up. Two pair of eyes snap to the sound. Your hand tries to snatch the oxygen from your face, but Simon darts out with dread plastered all over his features. You faintly hear John calling the doctors.

"Easy, love. Easy..." he soothes you. Stopping your hands from moving. Your body is in too much pain, tears slip down your cheeks, once again Simon grits his teeth. If he could he'd take it all away. "Don't force yourself you're..." he trails off. "You're hurt."

It feels like you're body is being torn apart. The drugs are slowly leaving your system.

"What happened?" your croak out, throat dry and inflamed. He sits bringing the glass of water to your lips not before removing for a brief moment the oxygen mask. You take a small sip and thank him with a weak smile.

"Ambush." He explains. Hating that he can see the images all over again in the back of his mind. "Thought I lost you."

More tears well in your eyes, as weak as you feel you reach out your hands tracing his jawline and cheekbone. He closes his eyes, and finally breathes again, with you touching him he feels alive again. He wants nothing more than to go home with you.

"How many nights..."

"Twelve..."

The doctors rush in but before they drag him away you say:

"That's a lot of counting we've missed."

A press of his lips on your forehead, a silent promise to never let anything happen to you ever again. Even if it mean giving his own life for yours. He would do it any day. Better him than you.

"We've got the rest of our lives, love."

[igotanidea]

Dirty work: Jason Todd x reader

A/N: I am a firm believer that even in his post-patrol haze and surge of energy all Jason Todd needs from his beloved princess are hugs, not fucks and i will die on this hill.

***

The adrenaline was still fuzzing in his system, even after hours and hours of his night job in Gotham. It was stressful and hitting on all his sensitive spots hidden so deep under the surface. Muscles moving in the trained motion he practised milion times before, each instinct spurred on by imagination running wild.

Hurt, scared, innocent kids, left to tend to themselves on the streets.

Ordinary citizens exposed to the aftermath of whatever drama and destruction the mobs and gangs decided to wage that night.

Terror on the street on women who were working the night shift, trying to make a living, make ends meet.

And the same shit going on over and over again every fucking night, because fucking someone had a fucking moral code. Because fucking someone refused to put an end to something terrible, too afraid to stain his fucking soul.

Red Hood didn't have a soul to save anymore.

Not after everything that happened in his life.

Dirty wokrk, but someone had to do it.

One life taken, dozens of other's saved. Felt like constantly being at war and the heat of the fight made it so much easier to forget about the sacrifices made along the way.

Red Hood was strong, tough and ready to take on the hardest responsiblity of cleaning Gotham of scumbags and crimnals.

But after?

Once the first rays of a morning sun loomed on the horizon, Jason knew it was time to go home. Take off the mask. Became an ordinary man once more.

Hoping, wishing and praying she wouldn't kick him out again this time. That she would take him, despite the blood on his hands, the injuries on his body and deep scars on his soul.

Not a Red Hood anymore.

Jason Todd. Human. Man. Boyfiend.

The energy was still high when he climbed to the apartment and stood on the wooden floor, carefullly avoiding that one screetching floarboard, almost stepping on his toes to not wake her.

"Jason."

Years of vigilantism and dealing with shit.

Hightened instincts and senses.

And yet, Y'N's voice in the morning, in the empty, quiet apartment made him jump from surprise, causing her to giggle, causing the surprise to give way to a wave of warm feelings.

"Morning, sunshine."

"Depends. Did you bring me breakfast?" she teased

"Since when do you eat breakfast?"

"It doesn't matter if I do!" she got out of the bed, yawning widely, rubbing her eyes and stepping closer to him, taking his helmet off, mindful of the explosived installed there (biting her tongue to not say something about using a protection that was simultaniously life threatening) "You are supposed to preach me about not eating healthy and feeding me with the best groceries. Croissaints, fancy salads, low fat cheese. All that stuff!"

"Are you for real?" he frowned in confusion upon her words. What was going on here?

"Nah, I'm joking cause I can tell that under all this pose you're tired. Though maybe a bit of laugh would do you good. Even if it;s at my expense" she smiled cupping his cheek and meeting his eyes "What do you need? hugs, kisses, cuddles? Or somehing more intense?" that was an obvious hint she was willing to help if he needed some action to blow off some steam.

"Can you just be with me? I just need your presence next to me. Knowing this is all real and I won't wake up alone again." hearing those words coming from Jason was the biggest leap of faith. He was not the one to admit to feeling tired or that something was weighting on his conscience once out of the mask. Never in the million years. But with her - it was simpler, easier, knowing she would just listen and observe rather than fill the silence with silly questions and talking and preaching and lamenting about his behaviour.

"I'm here. I promise, it's all real. You're not alone." She nodded calmly.

Jason produced the tiniest smile and let her guide him to the warm bed with the soft sheets smelling like her, with her arms wrapped around him like a soft cocoon.

And it was just fine.

No need to talk or to explain or to fight anymore.

Getting rid of this feeling that nothing made sense, his efforts were futile and no one would ever understand him.

Finally, a little bit of peace and maybe - just maybe - the tiniest amount of happiness brought by the steady beating of her heart in his ear and the gentle movement of her fingers in his hair.

True meaning of intimacy between two people.

Bonding for life.

[splatsvilles-fashionista]

The appeal of One Piece

I know everyone's a bit sour on One Piece after the clown stunt tumblr pulled, but with the live-action series out and the anime popping off on social media, there's more eyes on this goofy pirate story than ever, and I've been dying to talk about it, so now's the time.

A lot of the conversation around One Piece is steeped in hyperbole, and it's hard not to be hyperbolic when you're talking about a work of almost unprecedented length and popularity. With that in mind, I wanna try to explain what makes One Piece so good in a way that is concise, spoiler-free, and that will give you an idea if this might actually be a story you'll enjoy.

And I do actually think a lot of people who would enjoy One Piece are currently writing it off, and I think a lot of the blame lies on assumptions people have about shonen as a genre. One Piece is no doubt a shonen, with young and teen boys as the primary demographic, but it is also first and foremost an adventure story about a group of quirky outcasts setting out to follow their dreams, despite (or often in spite of) the crushing weight of reality.

But you can't have an adventure story without a world to set that adventure in, and what a world Eiichiro Oda has crafted. One Piece manages to feel like it has fully realized an entire planet, with every island we travel to having a very distinct sense of culture and visual identity. A lot of care has gone into building the history and politics of these places, and the mechanics by which their more out-there elements, like the sky-high ocean geyser or the mountain with an upside-down waterfall, function. As such, it is a setting that afford its story a lot of variety, while also being able to tackle a lot of very heady topics like authoritarianism, racism, and abuse in intelligent, nuanced ways.

But just as important as all of islands we visit are the wonderful characters we meet. A lot of people aren't into One Piece's exaggerated cartoon aesthetic, and I respect that, but it does lend itself to a lot of very unique faces and body types that make its cast of 1000+ characters a joy to behold. This is admittedly less true of the more conventionally attractive women, many of whom look very similar, but this is does not extend to their writing. Oda is very good at imbuing his characters with life, pulling on their histories to give them personalities and quirks that are often as funny as they are sad. Everyone I know that reads One Piece has a side character that they stan hardcore for, be it the lovable klutz Donquixote Rocinante or the petulant ghost girl Perona.

And all of this is especially true for our protagonists, the Straw Hat Pirates, each one of which is a deep, multifaceted character whose drive and dreams can be traced back to their often heartbreaking origins. I know I mentioned it at the top already, but at its core, One Piece is ultimately a story about a group of hurt, lonely individuals who find in each other not just friends, but a family that will support and protect them as together they chase their dreams in the face of a world whose systems have been built to squash them underfoot.

All of this is brought together by Oda's exceptional artistic skill. While as mentioned earlier, One Piece's cartoony artstyle isn't for everyone, it's by no means an accident. One Piece is a story set in a cartoon world, and Oda is able to give even his most ridiculous characters and places a tangible sense of physicality, making everything feel real within the confines of the page. While Oda has a team of assistants to help him, he still does the brunt of the art himself, and his dedication to his craft means the comic is full of panels that are breathtaking in their complexity and visual density.

But it's not just his technical skill that makes the art of One Piece so good, it's that Oda is also very good at letting his art speak for him. Compared to a lot of other big shonen manga, One Piece doesn't lean as heavily on the dialogue to give the readers all the necessary information, but can convey a lot of what is happening and how characters are thinking and feeling through its artwork. There's some sections where this doesn't hold as true (and they are frequently less well-liked as a result) but it makes One Piece a far lighter read than its soon to be 1100 chapter-count would make you believe.

But the thing I think makes One Piece the most exceptional of all, and what makes me recommend it despite its length, is that as a story, One Piece has a remarkable clarity of vision. One Piece has a stance and a worldview that it does not waver on, and it is present from the very beginning. It's is romantic story, about the power of faith and dreams, about people's right to be free and be who they want to be, and about how the beauty and wonder of the world makes its worth its danger and uncertainty.

One Piece knows what it wants to be from the very beginning, and because of that you don't have to wait for it to get good. A problem that a lot of longform media struggles with is that the opening hours are a slog to get through, because it doesn't show you its hand early enough for you to know if it's something you'll like, and that is not a problem One Piece has. It is exactly what it is going to be from the beginning, only in a simpler, cruder form that it is going to expand upon to become the sprawling pirate fantasy epic it has grown to be. This clarity of vision also makes One Piece very rewarding for attentive readers, as it frequently hints at future places and characters, and plants story seeds that it pays off hundreds of chapters later. It does a lot to make the world feel big and interconnected, and makes One Piece very fun to re-read as you pick up on things you missed the first time around.

It is frequently recommended that new readers start with the initial 100 chapters, the East Blue saga (which is what the live action series adapts, for the record), to see if One Piece is right for them, and that's the note I am going to end this post on, as well. East Blue uses its 100 chapters to tell a fairly self-contained story that introduces the first half of the core cast, setting the stakes and building its world while giving you plenty of interesting places, bizarre creatures, and wacky action all the while. It is One Piece showing you its hand, with the promise that if you like what you see, it'll have so, so much more in store for you

[whatstheoccasion]

"You are the rock on which I stand, Steady me, please take my hand, Hold me now until the break of day."

— Charles Wiles.

Pirates don't help people, he used to spit. I was not born into this world to help anyone.

Yet, as the fabric of your shirt softly shifts up your skin making you shiver, Law finds himself unable to stop the hand raising his blanket, keeping you warm.

You're not just people, though, he poorly excuses himself. You're more than just anyone to him.

Which is why he pretends to not notice how clingy you get when the sun's barely peeking through the windows, warm and bright enough to make out the shape of your face, features he awkwardly traces with the tip of his fingers, finding himself needing the intimacy, this closeness with you.

He cherishes these slight pieces of yourself you only show him. Asleep, vulnerable and soft to the touch, trusting this callous man to keep your dreams safe, Law has to bite his tongue to hold himself from repeating the same three little words to you like a fool.

He chastises himself for even thinking about it.

And then you start to wake up, with bloated cheeks and messy hair, your eyes still fighting sleep, and God, it's useless, Law thinks. It's an urge too hard to resist– but he refuses to say it out loud. He's content with protecting you as it is, tightening his blanket around you and trying to fix your hair.

Will it be too much for you, he wonders, impatiently waiting for your eyes to fully open, if he physically gives you his heart to keep, to protect?

"Law?"

You shove your face further down his neck, eyes scrunching in a tender way that makes Law's hands clench and unclench with the need to touch.

He hums low on his chest in response, bringing your body closer to his. When you don't continue, eyes closing again, he grumbles out, "Morning."

He feels your smile on his neck, one sleepy kiss pressed against it. "Good morning, love."

It hurts.

Up to this day, Law's guilt clenches with a vice-like grip around his chest, reminding him how he doesn't deserve this warmth, this forgiveness you give him.

It's a hole his heart still aches to fill– this disgusting need for affection, a need he can't allow himself to ask for out loud, but one he desperately looks for anyways.

When you're out and about on a new island, linking pinkies and pressing your side against his, teasing him for his pink cheeks and burning glare.

Aflot in the Polar Bear, dragging his tired self up deck to get some much needed sun in his system, his palms tingling where your hands held him.

On nights he's blessed with your pleasure, where he's insatiable until he makes you his– unsatisfied until every part of you is marked with his name, his traces.

So when you pull him closer to you now, he doesn't say a word. He doesn't tease you like he would any other day, doesn't call you out on how your body seems to always gravitate towards his– today he's not sure if his good intentions would come clear enough, and what if one last remark is what pushes you to finally leave him for good?

Law instinctively holds you closer, letting your body soothe his restless mind. You're here. You're staying. You love him.

You hug him even tighter in your sleep, entwining your legs together, impossibly closer to eachother. He's usually not positive for anything, but you're for sure a gift from his loved ones up above, because only those who cared for him enough could guide you to him.

He has one final thought before dozing off again, as the tiny fluttering of your eyelashes on his skin and the slight rise from the waves of the New World lull him to sleep, carrying so much fondness he doesn't even put up a fight when his eyes start to drop.

His heart is staying right where it belongs.

[bejeweledraven]

call it what you want

All the drama queens taking swings All the jokers dressin' up as kings They fade to nothin' when I look at him

relationship headcanons with the gotham villains

parrings: oswald cobblepot x gn!reader, ed nygma x gn!reader, victor zsasz x gn!reader, jerome valeska x gn!reader, jeremiah valeska x gn!reader

genre: fluff, slight angst

warnings: mentions of criminal activity, mentions of toxic and unhealthy behaviors in romantic relationships/mentions of unhealthy relationships

requested?: yes

request: anon: can i request general relationship hc with oswald cobblepot, ed nygma, victor zsasz, jerome valeska and jeremiah valeska with a gn reader

song prompt: call it what you want by taylor swift

word count: 1392

oswald cobblepot:

first and foremost his love language is 100% gift giving

it would be both subtle and dramatic

subtle, because he would never ask directly; he'd listen

was there something you were talking about currently? or maybe something you've wanted forever? he would pick up on the slightest mention of it

but like i said, it would also be dramatic

an artist you've been listening to lately? he'll make sure you have every possible record on vinyl and cd, concert tickets, merch

a car that you've dreamed of for years? in your driveway, with every possible upgrade

growing up he didn't have much, so he wanted to make sure someone that he cares about never feels like that

although he's not really the one for physical intimacy, there are some small gestures he really loves

great example are forehead kisses - long evenings after tiring days, right by the fire places

he might not be huge with PDA, but everyone knows that you're involved with each other, making you untouchable

and when i say everyone, i mean everyone; his enemies, his allies, his staff

his worst fear is someone hurting you to hurt him; makes him extremely protective, making sure you're safe 24/7

your relationship is the definition of "private, but not secret"

ed nygma:

although the pre and post riddler ed might have fair share of differences when it comes to dating, there's definitely a lot of similarities

for example, for ed you're always the number one priority, not matter what

the pre-riddler ed would cancel any plans for you (not that he had loads of those anyways lol)

it would take one phone call from you for him to drop everything and meet you somewhere

if ed liked you, he would have the hardest time telling you; even if you were involved with someone else, he would be your shoulder to cry on, no matter how much it broke his heart

once you got together he would need regular reassuring of how much he means to you

would be a combination of his own insecurities and how highly he thinks of you

both before and after you start dating, you smiling in his direction would be enough to make his day

post-riddler is much more confident, cares significantly less of what people think of him

but even given all of his confidence, his old insecurities still get the best of him

he would get very jealous at times

whenever he would suspect you could have feelings for someone else (which is a conclusion he makes way too rapidly) he would feel like the awkward and practically invisible technician working at the police station all over again

takes a ton of reassuring to for him to seem confident again- because deep down he will always feel like that to an extent

being his partner means being his best friend- it's such a special connection

he relies on your support so so much

although it took him a while to learn to come to you with his issues, you're definitely the best support system he's ever had, and he makes sure you know how much that means to him

victor zsasz:

one word: TEASING

so so so much teasing

oddly enough, this might be the healthiest relationship on the list

he has an understanding of personal space and time

i mean don't get it wrong: he WILL show up unannounced in your living room in the middle of the night on a random tuesday, just chilling on the couch because "he missed you"

but if there is ever a situation where you tell him that you need space and time alone, he just respects it

he has a very laid back attitude towards you, but if the situation requires he will act very quick to protect you; whether you disapprove of his methods or not

even though like i said he gives you space and time if needed, he has his subtle ways of knowing whether you're staying safe and out of trouble

i can for sure see him with a fellow assassin, even, or maybe especially, working for a rival gang

business is business, and he doesn't see a reason why it should interfere with his personal life after work

and the constant competition is kind of fun and exciting to him, which is ironic, given the line of work

one time you were ordered by your bosses to take each other out, and for shits and giggles you even pretended to attempt it, but gave up easily just cause you couldn't take one another and this whole situation seriously

overall it's a very playful relationship of equal time teasing and strong sense of protection, on both sides

jerome valeska:

the best word to describe the relationship with this man is 'rollercoaster'

with the highest of highs and lowest of lows

good moments make you feel on top of the worlds and bad moments make your stomach drop

no two days are the same with this guy

no surprise that he is very obsessive

the second he saw you and was utterly and completely fixated on you and you only

it was obsession at first sight for sure (bonus points if you met at arkham)

and you can't really blame yourself, he was very charming

just something completely captivating about him

although his attention is all over the place, he would make sure to always have a good look at you, even with the corner of his eye

he just needs you around 24/7

the respect for personal space and time? yeah don't really count on that

at a certain point there's some sort of addiction formed, where you can't really function without him either

say what you want about jerome, but his energy is absolutely infectious and sometimes you just need someone who will make you feel like you're on top of the world

another thing about him is that his obsessive sense of protection mostly extends to guarding you from the GCPD, but not really to a basic sense of safety

he will take you with him to all of his most dangerous heists, because he doesn't want you 'missing out on all the fun'

he regularly finds places to break into in the middle of the night, like theme parks and big malls, and just goes CRAZY

he is there to make any absurd wish of yours come true

if during the time where everyone just assumed he was dead you moved on with your life and god forbid found happiness with someone else- he is changing that the second he's back

jeremiah valeska:

the jeremiah before the transformation was paranoid about absolutely everything

including your safety, mostly because of jerome

his childhood made him put up this shield around him and it wasn't easy to let you into his life - but once he did he shielded you even more than he ever did for himself

if it was up to him, you'd never leave his super-secure home/facility, because he's that worried

and many times he's begged you do to so

out of sheer sense of protectiveness over you

but staying in a windowless bunker is not really easy for many people

and he knows that he can't really argue you on that, so all he has left is worrying until you're back

you always were back, and he had to fight the urge to beg you not to ever leave again

the post-transformation jeremiah is also insanely protective- with the added effect of more confidence is slight obsessiveness

his obsessiveness would be much more subtle than one that his brother displayed - jeremiah would just always know where you are and who you're with

he would go to actual insane measures to protect you; he'd burn entire cities if it meant keeping you safe

both before and after the transformation he's not really the best at communicating his feelings, but his way of making up for it is acts of service - subtle before transformation and less subtle after the transformation

oddly enough, he also became a lot more openly romantic than before, with grand, dramatic gestures

not that he wasn't romantic before; just in a lot more shy and delicate way

one thing never changed - how much keeping you safe meant to him

[myosotisa]

there are bones in my closet - s.h.

Steve Harrington x Reader

‖  summary: You can't control what your scars have done to you, but you can control what you're going to do about it and who you're going to trust with them.

‖  tags: hurt/comfort, post season 4 volume 2. contains content referring to anxiety, depression, ptsd, unresolved trauma, and their symptoms. you comforting Steve and Steve comforting you. written all in one sitting and unedited, so sorry if there are mistakes. i'll go back and fix them at some point.

‖  word count: 3.8k

You both had scars; seen and unseen.

Some of his were physical. Puckered pink and tight scar tissue on either side of his torso, a smaller section on one shoulder. A straight, light line of discoloration across his throat. The special glasses he had to wear and the pills he had to take to keep the migraines at bay.

The rest were less obvious. A tensing of his shoulders whenever something flew by him and he wasn’t expecting it, even if it was as small as a bee. White knuckle grips, and sometimes a full body flinch, at the crack of thunder or flash of lightning. An uneasy feeling that led to irritability when he had to go outside while it was foggy. Wide, panicked eyes when he woke up in the middle of the night with a scream in his throat. His protective nature morphed, shifted, grew into something that could sometimes feel stifling. The anxiety that accompanied the fear behind the protection.

When you first got closer to Steve Harrington, it was easy for you to tell he had ghosts following him wherever he went. You knew because you had them too.

A tendency to jump or freeze at a loud noise or when someone raised their voice. Hints of subtle pain hiding behind your eyes around the holidays, your birthday, when people talked about their family and you forced a smile. How you could go from the life of the party, talking and laughing and helping everyone, and start to go quiet so quickly, sometimes entirely without warning. The way it wasn’t unusual for you to disappear for days at a time, no one knowing you were simply buried in your covers and unable to emerge. And sometimes, even when you were right next to him, right next to anyone, you would still feel so far away.

Steve was haunted by things that had long since died and you were too.

The first time you saw the signs in him was early April 1986.

You’d barely known him then. Both of you had known of each other in school but that was pretty much it – orbited different planets in the same solar system. When you met him again, or for the first time really, at the donation drive at the high school, he wasn’t at all what you remembered. King Steve was wearing a little name tag and folding shirts, pants, towels, and anything else set before him and then organizing it into piles just like one of your colleagues had asked him to.

Although pretty busy trying to wrangle a few other volunteers who seemed to have bitten off more than they could chew when it came to washing the bedding on the cots lining the gym, you couldn’t help but catch glimpses of him. How he had a heated but whispered argument with Robin Buckley from a year behind you, and then smiled like a proud father as she made peanut butter sandwiches. Turned into an absolute mother hen when a curly haired brunette walked by him with a limp, leaving his station to usher him over to a set of chairs and gave him what looked like a finger wag before ruffling the boy's curls. He only went back to folding when an older man, who you recognized as one of the people staying here, came and sat down next to the boy, waving Steve off with a shaky hand.

A few other preteens came by and talked to him, the only one you recognized being Nancy Wheeler’s younger brother Mike. He spoke with all of them with what could only be described as fond annoyance – like how you would talk to a younger sibling or a best friend. It intrigued you, for lack of a better word. An earthquake had shattered Hawkins and here was Steve Harrington: folding an endless number of fabrics that just kept growing, greeting anyone who tried to talk to him with a charming smile, and looking out for a select group of what appeared to be his friends.

After a particularly long conversation with two local moms, you noticed it. The smile was more forced, his responses less enthusiastic, shoulders rolling forward and eyes closing with a deep breath when he thought no one was looking at him.

He looked exhausted. The kind of tired sleeping can’t fix.

When another local came and chatted him up, carrying most of the conversation as Steve replied politely, and then clapped him on the back – he choked. A tightening of his chest, his neck, his eyes squeezing shut as he let out a few coughs. The man looked worried, asking him if he was okay, if he had hurt him. Then brown eyes blinked open wide again and flickered around wildly. His shoulders started to fall and rise faster, a flush creeping up his neck.

Your bleeding heart cracked a bit more as you stepped inbetween the man and him.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” you glanced back at the man, who gave a hesitant shrug before making an escape, and you returned to the wild eyes of Steve. “Volunteer coordinator here, do you think you could come help me with something?”

There was water collecting in the corners of his eyes as they glanced from you to the room like he was looking for a way to escape. His voice was slightly hoarse when he tried to respond, “I… I, uh-”

Lightly pressing the tips of your fingers to the clenched fist of his hand, you lowered your voice as quietly as you could. “Just come with me.”

His eyes squeezed shut, a single errant tear sliding down his pink cheek, before he gave a stunted nod.

You could feel eyes on your back as you walked with him off of the floor and into the swinging door of the kitchen.

Struggling with the weight, you pulled open the heavy metal door to the walk in fridge and motioned him inside. He didn’t question it as he stepped in and you followed behind him.

The space was small but not claustrophobic, large wire shelves on either side as the heavy door softly closed behind you. Eyes searching, you landed on a long plank of what looked like frozen pork ribs.

“Hold this please,” was the only thing you said as you thrust it into his hands. His eyebrows were drawn together in confusion but he took the slab, the ice cold object ending up nestled into his chest. Perfect. “Thanks, now just wait here a minute,” you inched past him, both of you having to rotate in order for you to get past without touching each other, “I have to grab one more thing.”

You didn’t. You didn’t need the ribs either. But you opened up the faded white ice chest in the back of the walk in and started digging through it, looking for nothing. Your companion didn’t say a word in the enclosed space, but you could tell the cold was doing its job as his breathing started to slow down. After pretending to dig for another few minutes, you stood up straight again and let the lid fall closed before hopping up to sit on top of it.

Steve was standing there dutifully and holding the frozen meat close to him just as you’d asked. The flush rising up from his chest had been replaced with pink nose and cheeks from the cold, dry air, and his chest rose and fell at a more reasonable rate. The panic in his eyes had abated and the tears blinked away as his head slightly swiveled to look around the metal container you both were in.

“You can put the meat down now if you want.”

He startled a bit, gaze returning to you having not realized you were sitting there watching him. “I’m sorry?”

“I didn’t actually need your help,” you offered plainly, motioning to the pork he was basically hugging. “The cold helps the panic go away.”

His head drops to look over the plastic bundle in his arms. “The…? No, I wasn’t-”

“It’s okay, Steve. You don’t have to explain.”

A few moments passed as Steve’s grip on the meat shifted before he set it back on the shelf you had taken it from. Now free, his arms crossed over his chest and he shifted on his feet slightly. You took your own few moments to slow down, to breathe. To let the cold air recover you as much as it could before you had to go back out there.

Go back to grieving widows and broken families and people suddenly without homes or possessions. People crying, screaming, trying to make sense of something senseless. Some looking out for ways to help, some desperately seeking help no one could reasonably provide. You would keep going until your heart bled dry and then just a little farther, just to go back to your empty apartment and do it again the next day.

But it was what you could do. It was something you could do. A way you could help.

Rescuing Steve Harrington from having a panic attack in a crowded school gym was a way you could help even when you felt like you were falling apart at the seams.

His voice is gentle when he asks, “how did you know…?”

That he was panicking? That the cold would help? That he needed help?

“Guess when you know what it feels like, you know what it looks like.”

He seems to quietly consider your answer as he quietly considers you. Eyes searching, posture guarded, energy unsettled. You want to show a kind smile, open palms, telling him sweet words that will settle him, do the job that you’re supposed to be doing here.

But you’re so exhausted. The kind of tired sleeping can’t fix. And you just need a few more minutes before you put the act back on.

Whatever he was looking for, he seemed to have found it, because his arms fell from his chest, one lowering to rest on his hip as he leaned the opposite shoulder against the shelf beside him.

“Do you, uh, have any other tips and tricks?” He hesitantly asks, his gaze locked on your dirty sneakers.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

The first time he saw yours was early June 1986.

The two of you had spent a steadily increasing amount of time together as he continued to volunteer to help at the makeshift shelter and you continued coordinating. When it was possible, the two of you would end up on a station together and you’d get a few more clues into what exactly were the skeletons in Steve’s closet. Hushed conversations about a friend in the hospital, about a friend they’d lost, about one they’d gotten back. Stories like you heard every single time you worked, but these felt different. The more you watched, the more you saw the string that tied all of them together. How it wasn’t just Steve looking out for his people, but them looking out for him and each other too.

A group of people that made no sense to be together but bonded in a way that couldn’t have happened peacefully.

Sometimes he would be talking to one of them – one of the preteens, or Robin, or Nancy Wheeler, or Jonathan Byers, or Joyce Byers, or the newly revived Sheriff Hopper – and would nervously glance your way like they didn’t want you to hear. You pretended not to.

If you could have stopped listening, you would have. But you heard and processed everything around you whether you wanted to or not.

Regardless of some of the strange things that floated into your ears, you never said a word about it. Never talked about the scar on his neck, or the scars on his sides you had gotten peeks at when he reached for something up high. Never asked why sometimes his whole body would start to react as if he was in a life or death situation, never questioned what triggered those moments. Never mentioned that when you weren’t working together, you could feel his eyes on you like a hawk, like you were one of the people he looked out for now too.

Never admitted how terrified that made you.

In return, he never asked why you would suddenly disappear for an hour and re-emerge with frozen fingers. Never pressed when you told him you were fine even though you couldn’t say it convincingly. Never forced you to talk when you fell silent or made you feel like you had to act a certain way or fulfill a certain need for him.

He just needed someone. Someone who knew, but didn’t know. Who saw the weight, saw the string that wound tight to him and his friends, saw when the mask started to crack and needed to be whisked away from prying eyes, and didn’t ask to know anymore than that.

You needed someone too. Someone who knew, but didn’t know. Who could see past the performance, see when the shadows drew in tighter and started to choke you, see that you were trying so fucking hard all the time. You needed someone who would understand that you were going to fight tooth and nail against the idea of needing someone – a trapped animal lashing out at anyone who tried to get close because they didn’t know if they were going to set it free or make the killing blow.

You didn’t know Steve could be that person until he proved it.

The day had started off shit. You’d woken up in a haze and debated if this was one of the days that would make you bury your head in the sand and wait for the storm to pass. Your first mistake was deciding to get up and go back to work anyway.

Your second mistake was putting Butter Handy Andy on dish washing duty.

You’d been talking to Vickie McAdams about the supplies you all had available for making dinner tonight when a huge crash came from inside the kitchen. Completely unprepared for a sudden noise that loud, you couldn’t hold in the yelp, couldn’t mask the way your entire body tensed, couldn’t help the way you immediately stopped in the middle of your sentence. Frozen, heart stuttering an uneven rhythm in your chest, the contents of your stomach kicking up, and people were staring. People were staring. Everyone was looking at you and thinking there was something wrong with you and you’re weak and broken.

Sweet, sweet Vickie, with a concerned furrow to her brow and a calm smile, asked, “Hey, are you okay?”

It took 75% of what you had left to put the act back on.

“Yup, just spooked me a little.” You laughed and then she laughed and then it felt like you had saved it, fooled them, protected yourself. It felt like the eyes were off of you.

Well, all except 2.

Your third mistake was stepping in between two men who had started an argument by the missing persons board.

Already running on fumes, you really should’ve thrown in the towel an hour ago. But giving up wasn’t a skill of yours and all that awaited you at home was silence and skeletons, so you kept the engine running. The disagreement had started quietly but quickly escalated into a screaming match in front of everyone in the room. Having forgotten yourself, gotten lost in the role you were playing as a coordinator and a leader, you’d immediately approached and tried to talk them down. Neither paid any attention to you and more people were starting to gather, either to watch or concerned they needed to do something. A baby nearby started to wail and the murmur of the gathering people grew and all the noise continued to grow into a tidal wave that rushed in your ears.

One of the men raised a fist like he was going to throw a punch. You rocketed forward, putting yourself between them with your hands out to try to stop him. And you did – the forward motion of his fist stopped. But then his other hand fisted in the fabric of your shirt near the collar and he tossed you away like you were nothing. You stumbled and then fell, gasping out in pain and shock as your tailbone made contact with the shiny, wooden floor.

The crowd descended then; pulling the two men apart before either of them could come to harm. People rushed for you, throwing out questions of ‘are you hurt?’, ‘what were you thinking?’, ‘are you okay?’ as hands you didn’t know forced you back to your feet. There were so many eyes and so many questions and so many hands and everyone was so close and everything was so loud and you couldn’t see and you couldn’t breathe and you couldn’t move and you couldn’t talk.

You ran.

Pushed your way through the small circle of near strangers that had formed around you and settled into a run toward the swinging kitchen door. Through the door, past where Andy was still dropping pots and pans into soapy water without a care in the world, past the walk in fridge, and out the back doors. The sun was setting but the air was still hot and humid and choking you as you kept fucking running. You didn’t know if anyone followed you, you didn’t even try to look. You just listened to the frantic beat of your heart that told you to keep going or else it would be the end of you.

Your feet carried you to a familiar place that you hadn’t seen in a few years. You ran out of breath and had to stop just as you reached the bleachers along the mile track behind the school. They were coated in shades of orange, making the dusty track beyond them look even older as the sun carried down toward the horizon.

Despite your lungs and legs not being able to run any further, you were still thrumming with adrenaline, muscles tensed, chest tight, heart and mind racing out of control. You couldn’t focus on anything, couldn’t stop, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t get back in control.

A hand lightly tapped your shoulder and you swung.

Steve Harrington dodged your fist like a man who had taken more than his fair share of punches.

“Woah, hey, just me,” he offered calmly, hands coming up in a surrender gesture. The wire rim glasses were a recent addition, only a month or so old. You’d overheard one of his friends joke that maybe if he had taken one less knock to the noggin he wouldn’t need them. Hurt eyes or not, they flickered over you, caught sight of the heaving of your chest, the blood shot eyes, how you panted out between your teeth and arched your back like a cornered animal.

You certainly sounded a bit like one as you barked, “What the fuck do you want, Steve?”

He instinctively stepped back at the venom in your tone, eyes widening slightly in surprise. His mouth opened, closed, opened, and said nothing. The fear in his eyes quickly abated and then his expression fell. Not into one of pity or worry, like you normally expected. No, Steve looked at you like someone who knew, but didn’t know. Someone who understood. And it broke you.

Denim covered knees hit dust as you fell on them hard enough to hurt. You didn’t feel it, the physical pain, too distracted by the agony of your bleeding heart cracking your chest wide open. A sob tore from your throat as you buried your face into your sweaty hands and shook with the force of your tears. Gasping in a few sharp gulps of air as the cries continued to force themselves out of your mouth.

Firm, warm arms circled your shoulders and forced you off your knees and onto your ass and thigh, legs off to one side as your upper body made contact with a solid chest. His grip around you was tight, almost bone crushing, and despite the way you thought it would trigger you more, it was grounding. Something solid, something real, something physical while everything else felt like sand running right through your fingers. Despite the unexpected comfort offered, your sobs continued.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured into your hair, barely audible due to your crying. “You’re safe.”

The word ‘safe’ made your bleeding heart shatter into pieces, another sharp wail leaving you as your nails started to dig into the skin of your face. Almost like he knew, Steve momentarily released one of his arms to force your hands away from your face and press them into his chest, encouraging your fingers to fist in his shirt instead. You obliged subconsciously, hands twisting in his loose t-shirt as you pressed your eyes into his shoulder instead. Satisfied, he returned both arms to his tight circle that held you pressed to him.

You don’t know how long you both sat there on the track behind Hawkins High School. Long enough for the automatic lights to flick on over the field and the sunset to dip into golden reds and purples as night crept closer. Long enough for your ass to fall asleep and for your crying to stop and for your breathing to return to normal and then even longer than that.

He didn’t pull away until you did, and even then it was with reluctance.

Making eye contact for the first time, you didn’t think before the words tumbled out of you. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” he replied, like it was the simplest thing in the world. Like his shirt wasn’t damp with your tears and he hadn’t followed you out here while you ran like your life depended on it.

Wanting to argue that you had plenty to be sorry for, instead you shifted gears to the part of you that desperately wanted to give some kind of excuse or a reason to what had just occurred. “I swear, I normally don’t-”

“It’s okay,” he interrupted you with a kind smile, one hand giving your knee a soft squeeze before returning to his own lap. “You don’t have to explain.”

The shattered bits of your heart that lay in the wasteland of your chest thumped once, twice.

“Thank you,” it came out of you as barely a whisper.

“I’ve got you,” he repeated, eyes warm and gentle. “I’ve got you and you’ve got me.”

Thumped once, twice beneath the fear.

“I’ve got you and you’ve got me.”

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thanks for reading!! if you liked it, please give it a reblog and leave a comment, as they make my day <3

[the-modern-typewriter]

Do you have any advice on writing a truly scary villain?? How do I make them genuinely terrifying but also still realistically human y’know?

The short answer is 'be specific', think about all the ways that humans can be scary, and show how the villain is scary/human by the story stakes/other character's reactions to them.

The longer, more rambling, answer is...

Whenever I think about villains, and a lot of the study that goes into villains/monsters, I think about the idea of either the Self or the Other.

Villain as Self:

The self is the us, in 'us vs them'. It is what we recognise within ourselves when we look at and explore villains.

This often comes with a realistically human motivation. For example, it could be that the villain is motivated by greed, recognition or desire for power or control (flaws that many of us have) or fear, desire to protect ourselves/our loved ones (good qualities that many of us have that become warped) and all these motivations ultimately lead the villain to do awful thing. We don't think we'd do the bad thing ourselves, but there is an uneasy terror in recognising that actually we might.

Alternatively, it is the villain who is well-respected and loved. The person we trust. The person we feel safe with. Except, we're not safe. And we can't tell, because we think they're just like us, and in many ways they are, and that's horrifying.

This kind of villain is always the dark side of our own society, our own assumptions and ideologies and belief systems. They are very popular at the moment.

We as a people are deeply uneasy with our own monstrosity.

Villain as Other

The 'other' is the 'them'. It's the fear that many of us still have with what is different to us, or what we don't understand or know.

This is the villain that is the random stranger, not secretly your best friend. It's, historically speaking looking at literary canon, the cannibal savages in different cultures. It's aliens. It's monsters where the scary thing is that they have no humanity, nothing we can reason with, a morality that is completely different to ours etc.

We as a people are still deeply uneasy about what we don't understand, even if many of us are trying to be better about it.

Some villains are a mixture of the two, but broadly speaking, you're considering the Villain as Self vibe of villain. I mention both because I find it interesting, and because our ideas of otherness are so often tied with our ideas of monstrosity that I can't not!

Scary nowadays often looks very much like someone persecuting what is considered 'other' or 'different'.

What is actually scary?

The first part of writing a genuinely scary villain is tapping into something that is genuinely scary.

While the vague can work, when it comes to villains that are realistically human, specificity is your friend. We understand these people, or at the very least we know and recognise them. And it's not a broad threat of 'end of the world' that tends to scare us most, it's much more personal.

We don't want to get hurt. We don't want to lose someone we love. We are scared when we realise we completely misjudged a person we trusted. We are scared when we see someone do something terrible and have a gut lurching feeling that, in their circumstances, we might do the same thing because we absolutely recognise the feeling and the motivation. We are scared when we see villains who persecute people just like us, because we know there's an uncomfortable sliver of truth to it.

Story stakes

All the above bit is all to do with your character understanding and construction. The internal bit. The premise of your character.

Story stakes is external and how you apply your character in your story. In short - if there is clearly no chance of your villain ever winning, and nothing bad ever happens and you just tell people that they are scary, the reader has no reason to believe you.

Have other characters react in terror to your villain. Have the villain's actions and goals have consequences in the story. They must be a genuine threat within the story world, even if they lose in the end. I hope this helps!

[socksandbuttons]

Swap AU Stuff

Alright let's jsut try getting down basics maybe

Also this maybe long actually.

The obvious Swaps Lunar and Eclipse: Basically how we meet them in episode. I legit went along with thinking this Eclipse wasn't memory wiped the whole time so thats kinda- in the air a bit. But Lunar being the original body (I have a post showing how Eclipse looked then), Eclipse with the one he made (to be taller. He can't stand being small... Well shorter than anyone really. A shame he has Bloodmoon towering over him.) The Glamrocks: They are as Swapped so Chica is Freddy, Freddy is Roxy, Roxy is Monty and Monty is Chica (I love them immediately after giving them luscious hair im sorry). Rox and Sun are friends and he's quite protective of Sun, also a cowboy cause swap au/Foxy etc. Digi in the discord came up with this and i died cause it was so good actually. Eclipse and Lunar still go thru the whole October Arc with Moon and Sun. Moon being far more quiet but aggressive. Made Sun to hinder Eclipse. Let me paste my lil paragraph i had in discord

"Sun likely has more denial about moons treatment of him, however like lunar he does start questioning if its good for moon to get the star (like sort of getting the Moon Wont Stop so i need to do something he might hurt himself etc) plus lunar and eclipses treatment of sun would be a huge factor too, eclipse obviously is terrible at communcating and while he's a bit of a jerk, realizing sun might be in danger or hurt is something he might catch on faster. maybe. im thinking anyway sun catches attachment to both that outweighs his denial of moon being terrible actually. he's still grasping at things even well after. doesnt realize he gets awful panic attacks until someone points it out actually. and then i lost my train of thought but moon still loved sun just…. very clearly was not the forefront of his goals tho. feels very betrayed by sun after and likely wont fogrive sun. vs sun whos too willing to forgive despite his anxiety screaming at him NOT TO. i just wanna show a different thing to this cause lunar recognized halfway into october and let moon handle the rest and recognizes that eclipse was hurting him much sooner than sun wouldve (see the… current sun. og sun recognizes now but it truly took him a WHILE, communication Real now.)" Anyway, Sun does end up getting adopted by both Eclipse and Lunar. He's never gonna be taller than Eclipse. But as mentioned he's got a lot of things to work through about Moon (Roxy will kick so much ass for him.) Generally trying to grasp that yeah no it was pretty fucked up of Moon to do anything to Sun. Now the timeline gets a lil weird beyond this because like KC would've also been in this plot. KC unlike our Bloodmoon, is actually far smarter (Im sorry to bm fans), he DOES work with Sun but generally more for his benefit of getting rid of Moon. He doesn't really need to be bribed for this actually. Imagine KC being so pissed about Moon showing up in his systems and hes LIKE WTF MAN. Zappity Zap Zap Double Dee Moon Anyway Cue Bloodmoon arriving. And like bloodmoon does- He does technically hold Eclipse hostage but gets bored. So there is mild agreement. Bloodmoon does what KC did and FORCED themself out (like our OG boy!). They're uh... theyre not very keen on sticking around a daycare as fun as itd be to tear it up. They like lightly bully Sun but Roxy to the rescueee. Anyway, 'Does KC die in this au?' No he doesnt. He gets CLOSE to it but Bloodmoon just goes 'Hmn. nah son you're coming with me'. Lunar still feels incredibly bad about it though. Space arriving sooner actually more or less helps like avoid some certain issues here and there. Unlike Earth where she arrives much later (due to be literally distracted.) Space goes directly to the daycare. Thus kinda- changing some bits. He does meet Bloodmoon, hates him though. 'Why aren't you thinking this through' 'We wanna see how much they scream' 'You'll be electrocuting yourself before you get the chance' '...That means Eclipse gets electrocuted?' 'Put down. the fork.' KC handles Bloodmoon with much exasperation. Bloodmoon picked up this sucker and went 'our Spawn'. Baffles KC. Space ends up meeting Crater, Moon got annoyed with Space's presence being literally really hard to work around. Sends Crater, Crater and Space get along well enough that it wasn't Moon intention but this works too. Space (theres irony here) gets concerned with Crater and her not viewing herself with autonomy. She is still just a 'basic AI' as she puts it. Does what she's told. Bloodmoon doesn't really use her just kinda shoo's her off to Space or Eclipse. 'No you're no fun-' 'I have told to monitor you' 'WE DIDNT ASK MOON FOR A BABYSITTER' 'I am programmed to defend' 'We dont need defending either' 'You are still vunerable' '...Go away' 'Affirmative. Destination please?' 'DAYCARE'

Anyway How do i sum this up. Roxy and Sun are besties Lunar and Sun vibe. Eclipse is soft with Sun.

Bloodmoon has claimed ONE child. Doesn't really claim Moon but thats a later thing. Moon and KC despise one another.

KC didn't really want this fatherly figure but he begrudgingly accept them. Funny things happen with these three. Bloodmoon doesn't become pacifist, just more or less moves away dragging KC with them. A little bitter at Lunar's murder attempt but its fine. No one died there but heavily maimed.

Eclipse and Moon still ultimately hate one another. There is a Swap version of Solar thats Moon and- we'll get confused so just know its out there. Space and Crater are good friends and partly why both end up questioning their existence but both support pillars to one another that it just kinda isn't as devastating. Unless someone dies. Crater does end up having her own personhood, Moon does get attached to her even if he doesnt admit it. Space doesn't question creator enough but Crater does and vice versa. Bloodmoon(s) does have a name but ill reveal that later??? idk

[randoimago]

Aah, can I also request some letters for RK800 and RK900? M, S and Y, please!

Alphabet Headcanons

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human

Character(s): RK800 (Connor), RK900 (Nines)

Type of Request: Alphabet Headcanons

Note(s): Calling RK900 Nines just because I like that better than his model number!

M - Memory (what is their favourite memory with you?)

Connor

A favorite memory he thinks fondly of from time-to-time is when he went on a walk in the park with you. It's simple and the moment was on the casual side rather than romantic, but he noticed how relaxed and happy you looked.

The smile on your face and seeing you stress-free is kept in his memory banks. Sometimes, he finds himself smiling at the memory popping up out of nowhere.

Nines

It was after a chase with finding a deviant android, one that murdered for the sake of enjoying it than defense. Nines saw you retreat to the roof of the building and he followed you, curious as to what your intentions were. You ended up just talking, mentioning similar cases with humans. Nines added to your comments with logic and how faulty programming caused this.

Nothing romantic happened at all, but hours were spent just talking under the night sky and Nines ends up going back to that moment quite a bit, it was the first moment that he really felt that he got to see you.

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

Connor

I feel like Connor would be very protective over you once he's reached deviancy. He realizes his feelings and doesn't like the idea of you being hurt in any way, but he also has to stop himself from rushing to your side every time because he knows that level of protectiveness could upset you too.

Connor would prefer to not resort to violence so he tries to be charming and sly as he gets you out of any uncomfortable situations. That doesn't mean he won't punch someone for you, but he is better with his words. And as such, he's very good with giving you compliments and cheering you up in those situations too.

He usually views other's well-being over his own so having his S/O take care of him makes him happy. He does remind you that it's unnecessary to comfort him, but the smile on his face shows that he very much enjoys it.

Nines

He doesn't realize his protectiveness to his S/O. Nines sees you in danger and he ignores his programming giving him a percentage of your safety as he goes to immediately help you without a thought.

He knows he's strong and physically capable to keep you safe, but then he sees you in emotion turmoil. Nines convinces himself that he's calming you so your performance doesn't jeopardize his, but he is fast to find information and read your tells to make sure you are okay.

Nines would never ask that you protect him. He's a machine and can't feel pain. But if you defend him in conversation or even just stay by his side when he needs you (not that he'd say he needs you) then that causes some system errors that he doesn't quite know how to handle.

Y - Yearning (how do they cope when they are missing you? are they alright with being without you for an extended period of time or would they prefer to be with you every day of their life without exception?)

Connor

Definitely is a bit of a puppy when it comes to his S/O being away. He tries to not let it affect his performance, but Hank is quick to call him out on it. He ends up getting his coin out more often or trying to find ways to occupy his mind as a small timer is going on in the back of his programming for when you'll be back.

Very much would prefer you to be around him all the time, but he also knows that would be unreasonable and illogical to ask for, so he just awaits for your return.

Nines

Nothing seems to change for Nines when his S/O is gone for a while. He still performs highly and functions just fine. Nothing really seems wrong except for the fact that he acts more like a machine while you're away.

He does miss you, but he can't let it get in the way of his work. Would request that you not leave so often or not be gone for too long as he wants to make sure you're by his side and not in danger of being hurt.

[1800-page-not-found]

Being drunk and complaining how you think your bf/gf is prettier than you (genshin men+women x fem reader) PART 3

ITS THE HARBINGERSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Not doing scaramouche cuz i already did in part 2

Dottore, Columbina, Sandrone x reader (seperate)

TW: implied unhealthy relationship (for dottore bc that man does not treat anyone like a human being, i have mixed feelings about that guy), and id like to state that i do NOT support toxic relationships.

Making another part for the other harbingers bc im really sleepy rn and I just wanna give you guys something because I havent posted in a long time.

The next part contains Pantalone, Tartaglia, Arlecchino x reader (seperate)

Maybe i'll do Signora, Pierro, and Capatino? but Capatino wears a mask??? wtv lol

Please note that you may not like "[name]"s personality, as it may differ from yours.

You had met Zandik when he was a scholar at the Akademiya, before he was expelled for his crimes and immoral acts. Fortunately, unlike the last girl who had fancied him, Sohreh, he did not mutilate your body, because somehow in that rather small and close to non existing heart of his, was you.

But unfortunately, you could not escape his unhinged mindset. You relied too much on the Akasha System. When he did get expelled, you followed with him. After all, thats what the Akasha showed which was best for you. Hundreds of years went by, and he became a powerful harbinger. He still gave you freedom, to some extent. So how did you wind up at his office, crying and drunk?

"Zandik" You cried.

You were ultimately weak in the mind due to your heavy dependency that Dottore had created for you. He smiled as you cried into his shoulder, dampening his clothes.

"Yes dear? What happened for you to come crying to me?" He was your white knight.

You quickly learned that somehow, dottore would always save you, relieving you of your agony. Like he did with the ruin machines when they found Sohreh's body.

"O-one of your clones said you didn't love me and you had another woman…" you hiccup in between your words.

"My dear, do not fret, there are no other women in my life besides you. Why would I require someone else? Those clones can be quite troublesome, and not all of them are friendly. I apologize for their behavior." He soothed you, patting your back. 'Yes, yes...let it all out,' he thought. His clones were doing well, their original sole purpose was to create insecurities and confusion in your mind.

"But-But, I'm not even that pretty, even you're prettier than me! Theres plenty of women who are better than me-what if you dont love me one day?" You mumble, your head still lying on his shoulder.

"Darling, I have to say, I am surprised by your irrational behavior. My affection for you is undeniable, and the fact that you would suggest otherwise is quite hurtful..." Your eyes widened.

Oh, how could you hurt him like that?! After everything he's done for you?...

"No-no! I'm sorry I didn't mean to hurt you, I-"

"Do you trust me [name]?" He cuts you off.

"Huh? Of course I do!"

"Good, now please can we move on? If we continue to talk about this, my heart will ache even more." He starts to make an expression that he knows will make you feel guilty. You've really fallen deeper into the rabbit hole now.

--------

Columbina had saved you at your lowest, and you had devoted your every fiber of yourself to her. You decided to get stronger, your sole motivation being paying back your benefactor. Well, that was until the angel-like harbinger said you could pay her back by forming a relationship with her.

You did start off as friends, but that slowly spiraled into a more intimate relationship. You promised to be there for her whenever and wherever, but really, does the harbinger who's ranked third really need protecting?... I mean, you're so much weaker than her, how can you protect her when she's in danger?

That thought slowly grew in your mind-you can't help but just let it all out when drunk on the fine vodka Columbina had brought back for you and her to enjoy...until well, you drank the whole bottle.

You stared at the empty bottle in your hand that once held the highest quality of vodka.

"[name], my dear, what's on your mind?" Columbina spoke softly, her voice sounding like a lovely melody in your ears.

"Mmmm...I don't wanna bother youuu..." You dragged out your words, slurring your speech.

Columbina stood up from the couch and took the bottle out from your hands and gently placed it on the glass coffee table, making a small 'kling' sound. She sat back down and held your hands, which were rather cold so she decided to warm them up.

It was strange how she always kept her eyes closed, but no matter what always aware of her surroundings. This only increased your insecurity, after all, only one with great strength could do such things...and you couldn't.

"[name]." She let go of your hands and placed hers on your cheek, and kissed you softly. "Your thoughts will never be a bother all right? I'll always be there to protect you and be by your side." She smiled at you warmly.

You started to cry, the alcohol heightening your emotions. "That's-that's the thing!" You let out a sob, wiping your tears. "I-I don't want to just rely on you, I want you to rely on me too! But, I'm so much weaker than you and, and you excel in everything! You're smart, strong, independent, and so, so much prettier than me and everyone, you deserve so much better than me I-" Your rant was cut short when Columbina kissed you again softly.

"Oh, [name], I never knew you felt this way, I want you to know that I rely on you every single day, there is not a single moment where I don't rely on you. I know you probably don't believe it, but you make me feel so happy. I don't care if you think that I outshine you, because in my eyes you're the most beautiful and amazing person in the entirety of Teyvat. You're perfect in my eyes just the way you are, and no one else can take that spot." Her voice really soothed you, and as she spoke, you stopped crying.

"R-really? You mean it?..." You sniffled, wiping your tears off your face.

"Yes, now please, there's no need to cry anymore alright?" she kissed your forehead and held you in a warm embrace on the couch.

"Mhm…alright, thank you, I love you…" You rubbed your eyes, tired from crying and fell asleep in Columbina's arms.

Once you were sound asleep, Columbina picked you up, carrying you in her arms bridal style and set you gently on the bed, making sure you're comfortable before crawling into the bed and cuddling with you.

The next day, you woke up, eyes puffy and not a single memory of last night. When you asked your lover, she just giggled and walked away, leaving you confused.

--------

Sandrone was an interesting character. When you first met, you had actually died. Well more like on the verge of death. Somehow, for some reason, she had saved you, as she had basically turned you into part automaton.

You were supposedly her 'puppet', but, puppets don't act this human. You were crazy for confessing your love to her, the harbinger who was known for only caring about her own works, and having a god awful personality to come with it.

Well, fortunately for you, you did count as one of her works, so perhaps that was the reason why she accepted your confession and you two started being in a relationship?...you still couldn't wrap your mind about this, you were really happy to say the least.

Today, you had practically begged her to come with you to have a picnic and stargaze. She was being quite stubborn. But of course, she couldn't outmatch your own stubbornness and you, thus she gave in.

You were so excited, yet here you were, sitting on the blanket, extremely drunk. You smiled at her, all giggly and bubbly as you wrapped yourself around her arm, hugging her.

Sandrone sighed and frowned, she stopped her work just for this? I mean, it was you... (She'd never admit to loving spending time with you, she's gotta keep her reputation up... but everyone knows, even you, that she has an extremely soft spot for you (and only you.))

"[name]...quit staring at me like that!" sandrone flicked your forehead, earning an 'owwww' from you.

After recovering from the ferocious attack, you laughed and smiled. "But you're just sooooo pretty! I can't keep my eyes off you, the prettiest girl in Teyvat!"

You lowered your voice to a whisper "I think you're prettier than me, all the other harbingers, and the Tsaritsa- Ow!"

She slapped the back of your head. "I will not allow you to speak of her majesty the Tsaritsa like that, [name]!"

She crossed her arms and turned her head away from you, looking angry.

Although, her words seemed to contradict her statement just now. She spoke quietly under her breath, "plus, youre the most prettiest girl in Teyvat, [name]..."

You perked up, perhaps having heightened senses was a good thing. "I heard that!" You shouted and smiled. "You really think that-"

"W-what?! No! You must be imagining things!" She yelled back at you. "Damn it, I shouldn't have heightened your sense of hearing too! Ugh!"

All you did was laugh teasingly at her frustration and embarrassment getting caught being nice, specifically to you. Until you blacked out from the alcohol. That reallllllllyyyy freaked her out, as she frantically carried you back home. (Well, the only reason she showed her 'nicer' side was really due to the only witness being her modified automaton.)

You had slept for a whole day before waking up at noon, with a god awful hangover, causing you to throw up.

(Sandrone ordered one of her machines to take care of you in secret and report to her every hour about your status.)

[npdmonoma]

No amount of rational arguments are going to sway narcissistic abuse believers, because their beliefs aren't logical to begin with. They're emotional. Their abuse wasn't taken seriously, they weren't protected, they weren't treated with kindness, and that's devastating. I won't downplay that, because I know exactly what it feels like and it's torture.

But they're still wrong, and that matters.

To them, belief in narcissistic abuse serves two functions. The first is that it legitimizes their pain. If they can position their abuser as somehow worse than "normal" abusers, they can garner more sympathy. It's an understandable impulse, and one that I ironically heavily relate to as a narcissist. But I also know that just because something feels good to me emotionally, that doesn't necessarily mean it's okay for me to do. If I have to hurt others, then I need to find another way to get that validation. This is literally a skill I'm learning to cope with my NPD.

The second function it serves is to give them a sense of safety. If all the Bad People are easily identified by a checklist of narcissistic traits, then they can easily spot any potential abuser and escape further abuse. But it doesn't really work like that. Not only do they end up targeting a ton of people who aren't abusers, they also leave themselves open to abuse from people who don't fit their idea of narcissism. It's a lose/lose situation.

Ultimately, the emotional needs underlying the belief in narcissistic abuse need to be addressed so these people can get rid of these toxic beliefs and become better people. They need to do a lot of work on themselves, but they also need support systems that can give them the validation and comfort and safety they crave without having to hurt others to get it. If that sounds familiar, it should. It's the kinder version of what everyone keeps demanding from us narcissists.

If you're a narcissistic abuse believer and you've read this far, this post probably didn't make you feel very good. Maybe it made you angry, or made you doubt yourself, or even triggered you. If that's the case, you probably aren't ready to listen to me right now. That's fine, I get it. But once you've calmed down, you won't have any more excuses. Come back and read it again. Think about it. Internalize it. And then you need to fix your shit, because I can't do it for you

[softxsuki]

Urgent request! Before I start I just want to say that if you are overwhelmed with asks or are uncomfortable with this request please feel free to ignore it. Anyway, can I request baji, and mitsuya with a very sunshine/ happy go lucky gf who’s always smiling but one day they see her self harm scars (that she’s never said anything about)? I’ve always been the therapist friend and the one to help people when no one else would, but no one ever helped me.

I always wear long sleeves cause mine go all up my arm and I hate them. I’ve been clean for a few years now but I never wear short sleeves due to people making uncomfortable comments and just out right being rude to me for having them. I’ve had family members yell at me for hurting myself/ having scars, never really asking if I’m ok. I just want to comforted by my favorite boys and actually be able to vent to someone without being judged and not have to keep up being happy all of the time.

Side note: keep up the great work, I’ve read through your stuff and it has really brought me comfort :’) also take as much time as you need, i don’t want to rush you

Baji and Mitsuya (Separate) Comforting Sunshine S/O After Seeing Her Scars

mentions of self-harm and scars, please don't read if those things will be harmful to you, rather than comforting pls

Pairings: Baji x Fem!Reader, Mitsuya x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of scars, alluding to self-harm

Genre: Comfort

Word Count: 520

Post-Type: Headcanons

Summary: In which you're usually happy-go-lucky so they're shocked when your sleeve raises and they see scars there

[A/N: Hey hun <3 thank you so much for being so sweet and patient, I really appreciate it! I was more than happy to write this for you. I just hope this is able to bring you some comfort! Thank you always for the support <3]

Baji:

Baji is shocked, he’s used to seeing your strong side, the side of you that’s always put together and happy

You always had a smile on your face and never failed to spread that sunshine to the people around you as well, including himself–it’s one of the reasons why he fell for you so quickly

So when he sees those scars for the first time and you let him in on what you’ve been feeling behind your smile, he becomes very protective over you

Not only did he think he needed to protect you from others, but now also from yourself

Of course, this man was always protective of you, but even more so when he sees your scars

He feels bad for the times he ranted to you when you were probably going through your own struggles and he didn’t even realize it

Awkwardly says that he’s there for you if you want to talk about anything (he’s bad with feelings, but at least he’s trying)

Give him some time to loosen up and get used to all this

Yes, he’s very awkward at first and kinda doesn’t know how to go about acting now, but give him some guidance and he’ll figure it out

He loves you and just wants you to be okay, so expect a very clingy Baji for the next few weeks until you open up more to him and show your true feelings in front of him instead of hiding them behind a smile like you always did

Mitsuya: 

Mitsuya is also shocked at the sight of your scars, but he’d never let that shock appear on his face

He has always been your biggest support system, so he’s definitely going to be even more now than ever

Presses kisses to your scars, no matter how old or fresh they are, with the utmost of care, showing you how much he loves you and how these scars change nothing between you

Goes out of his way to design you shirts with long sleeves or jackets when the weather gets colder that he knows you’ll love, if you decide to continue to cover the scars

But makes sure you know that there’s nothing to hide, he accepts all of you, even your arms with scars, and nobody would be stupid enough to comment about them with him around

To him, those scars are proof of your strength, you got through some of the hardest moments of your life and you’re still around pushing through it all, he admires that so much, but he’d never let you go through those battles alone anymore to the point where cutting felt like your only route to relief

Mitusya makes extra time for you in his day, checking in on you and spending time with you to make sure you’re doing okay

Encourages you to speak your true feelings with him, there’s absolutely no judgment with him at all; you don’t need to plaster a fake smile on your face to please him

He wants to face your problems with you and help you overcome them together

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Posted: 12/11/2023

[chaosheadspace]

wip meme: Subvocals? subvocals sounds so interesting pls say more

Okay, subvocalisation is a term first coined by fanfic author Did (someone correct me if I'm wrong) for Omegaverse. It's involuntary / hard to repress sounds that express simple things like "back off / come here / I'm scared / I want you / where is my alpha / you're in serious danger of being bitten rn" stuff like that.

So this would be a Dreamling fic where everyone is part of the Omegaverse system, even the Endless. Due to his eldritch shenanigans, Dream's subvocals are in a pitch no living being can hear, so he just goes ham / he never learned how to maybe tone it down.

Cue Hob who's hearing is a little fucked. One day, while out with his friends, starts hearing those weird noises. You know where this is going, haha. Dream being called out on his bullshit by his own body, naturally.

Snippet under the cut, possibly OOC. (also, I'm not italicising all the *, I'm on mobile, I won't do that to myself)

Hob just smiles gently as his friends laugh about another story Alrin is telling, imitating the purrs and trills of his latest Omega conquest. Hob's had trouble hearing ever since he was kicked by a horse as a kid. He can't even hear his *own* subvocals, just feel the vibrations of them in his chest whenever they happen. Funnily enough, he's also grown up to really like horses. But his friends and their jokes are still a mystery to him.

So when he suddenly hears a small, discontent mewl through the din of the white horse tavern, so *clear* through all the ruckus, he doesn't even know what it is, at first. Just that it tugs at his heartstrings rather severely.

*Alone. Miserable. Hurt. Go away. Hello? No. Bad smell. Alone. Alone. Hurt. No. Don't touch. Go away.*

It's a string of sounds just a hair's breadth away from thoroughly distressed and Hob feels his chest rumble. *Hello. Hello? No threat. Here. Here. Come? I will protect. Hello?*

It's impossible to make out a specific smell here in the tavern, but Hob's eyes search frantically until they land on the most defiant man Hob has ever seen. His posture communicates that he clearly wants to be anywhere but here, his cheekbones say 'I will cut you', and his eyes say 'don't you dare'.

And the sweet, high notes coming from his throat sing *alone alone alone, please, no, help me*.

Sharp blue eyes find his and say 'do not dare. If you dare, I will kill you'. His song beckons Hob closer. Hob stands, barely registering the questioning looks from his friends, and goes to him as if drawn on a string. The high notes of the plea shift and lap over the purr in his own chest.

The stranger is silent. Hob takes a good look into his eyes, cutting himself up with masochistic joy, before saying, "I won't, you know. Die, that is. Unless you plan on killing me yourself."

The stranger tips his head, looks at Hob as if studying a mildly interesting bug and Hob knows, deep inside himself, that he could. He's fine as marble, possibly as strong, too. Hob takes a surprised breath and that's when he knows for sure that this man is not like any other he has met. He's got no smell, a weird absence of one, like fresh wind, like a torn-down forgotten memory.

And still, his body sings to Hob, sings *for* him, now a litany of *alone, alone, will you come, are you, do you, will you hold me, please, please, I'm so alone all the time*.

[sokoviansimp]

Hi so for the package AU from the prompt list you just reblogged can you write 29 and 8? for wanda and y/N? pleasE? also ily and i hope you have a great day

Invasion

✒ Pairings: WandaNat x child!Reader (platonic)

✒ Summary: What happens the first time Y/N gets hurt in Wanda’s care? - with prompt dialogues

29. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

8. "Are you hurt?"

✒ Tags and Warnings: gunshot wound, invasion

✒ Author's Note: So sorry for the wait, I basically rewrote the events of this twice.

✒ Word Count: 2483

✒ Read Time: 12 minutes

Masterlist : Socials

The Avengers compound hummed with activity as the team prepared for an important mission. The team was tasked with thwarting an imminent threat from a nefarious group seeking to exploit a powerful artifact. As the team gathered their gear and reviewed their plans, you watched with wide-eyed fascination. You wanted nothing more than to be part of the action, like your superhero guardians. 

Wanda crouched down to your eye level. "Remember, sweetie, this mission is too dangerous for you. You'll stay here with Nat," she said, her voice filled with motherly concern as she saw the sparkle in your eye as you fantasized about being with the team.

You pouted but reluctantly nodded. You understood the dangers, but that didn't stop you from feeling left out. "Okay, Mama."

The mission was set to begin at sunset. As the Avengers geared up and made their final preparations, you watched from the sidelines. Wanda and Nat had promised to keep you safe, and they both took that promise seriously.

With a heavy heart, Wanda glanced at you. "I know you're disappointed, love, but I need you to stay here. It's just too risky for you."

Your big, innocent eyes filled with tears. You understood the need for safety, but your heart ached to be with your beloved Mama. "I'm scared, Mama." you mumbled out barely above a whisper.

Wanda's heart clenched at the vulnerability in your voice. She knelt down and hugged you tightly. "I promise Nat will protect you, Y/N. Nothing will happen to you, I swear."

“Not me, you.” You explained. You had no reason to worry about your own safety, but Wanda was going on a grave mission, you couldn’t help but worry that something may happen. 

“Me? Detka, I’ll be ok. We all have each other’s back.” Wanda assured you, she hadn’t even thought about her own safety to be frank, too busy worrying about how you would react to being without her. Though, maybe that’s what motherhood is all about, always putting your child first. Their feelings, their happiness, and their safety. 

“Pwomise?” you wondered looking up at Wanda with doe wide eyes and pure innocence. 

“I promise that I will do everything in my power to come home to you safe and sound.” She clarified. Even though unlikely, Wanda couldn't bring herself to make a promise she didn’t have the full power to keep. There was always a chance something could happen to her in missions like these and you both knew it. 

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the Avengers embarked on their mission. You and Nat standing by watching them depart, your small hand tightly gripping Nataha’s. The compound felt empty and eerily quiet without the usual banter and laughter of the team.

Hours passed, and the tension in the compound grew palpable. Nat kept one eye on the security feeds, monitoring the team's progress. Unable to sleep, you pushed any hesitation you still harbored for Nat aside as you clung to her side like a lifeline. The minutes stretched into hours as you tried to find comfort in your stuffed animal and Natasha’s closeness. 

Taking Natasha’s attention away from monitoring the team, an emergency alert blared through the compound. Her heart skipped a beat as she read the message: " Multiple intruders detected. High Alert. Seek safety immediately." 

Normally this wouldn’t phase Natasha, but with you to protect, fear gripped her nervous system, and she scooped you into her arms. "Stay close, kid. We need to go to the safe room." With you in tow, she rushed through the corridors, heart pounding with dread. Her first priority was getting you to safety, “How many are we looking at FRIDAY?” she said aloud to the Artificial Assistant. 

“I count 7 armed soldiers and 2 unarmed, Miss Romanoff. Would you like me to deploy the nano recon drones for more real-time data of the base?” FRIDAY responded with limited emotion in her voice.

“Deploy the recons and the defense droids, and notify Fury!” she demanded as continued to rush you to safety. On the verge of tears, you waverly spoke, “Natty? What noise is dat?” 

“We just need to go to the safe room, Y/N. Someone is here,” she explained as she tactically rushed you across the compound.

You wanted to ask who, but soon enough, you couldn't hold back your tears anymore. The loud noise, the frantic state that Nat was in, and the lack of Wanda all came crashing over you. Even when Natasha seemingly kept her cool as she checked corners and cleared hallways before ushering you along, you could tell that something was very wrong. 

“Shhh, everything is going to be okay, I’m not going to let anything happen to you, ok?” Nat tried to reassure you but your tears continued to fall. 

Once you got to the safe room, Natasha instructed you not to let anyone else in, no matter who they said they were and to be as silent as you could, before rushing back out to take control back of the building. 

“Any idea on what their play is here?” she questioned FRIDAY, trying to put the pieces together, as she left you to gather the weapons she needed to take on such a group. There was nothing on the radar that would’ve led the team to foresee this event happening. Especially now, when everyone is away. 

“Intent is Unknown,” FRIDAY informed.

Was that it? Everyone is away, in fact, everything they’d been following for the last 2 months pointed toward this weekend in Glasgow. Was it a distraction? 

Pulled from her thoughts, Tony’s name came buzzing through her phone. “Romanoff,” Nat greeted like any other phone call as if she wasn’t in the middle of a dire situation.

“Nat, everything ok there? I’m seeing alerts come through.” Tony queried, optimistically hoping something may have unintentionally triggered the alarms, even though he had taken extra precautions to block unintentional triggers.

“Here? Oh yeah, everything is great. You know, except the gang of at least 9 trying to take over the compound. Peachy, really.” Nat sarcastically replied, she wasn’t upset with Tony, but it was one of her coping mechanisms in times like this, “How’s everything in your neck of the woods?” she wondered, trying to see if her theory had any ground.

“Surprisingly quiet. I’m sending you some help,” Tony said as he deployed suits and more equipment to help fight alongside Natasha. 

“Thanks, I have a feeling Glasgow was a distraction,” she uttered as she marched toward the invaders. 

Amidst the dimly lit corridors of the Avengers' high-tech compound, The Black Widow stood alone. The emergency alarms blared in the background, casting eerie crimson lights that danced across her sleek black suit. The once-peaceful sanctuary had been infiltrated by a group of highly trained armed guards, and Natasha was the last line of defense.

“Hey, Fellas!” Nat cheekily shouted towards them

The guards, clad in tactical gear and armed to the teeth, advanced on Natasha with cold determination. They moved in unison, their footsteps echoing ominously against the cold, metallic floors. Natasha could hear their synchronized breaths, a chilling reminder that she was outnumbered.

With a flick of her wrist, Natasha activated her Widow's Bite, sending electrifying shocks coursing through her fingertips. The room's lights momentarily flickered, casting eerie shadows as her attackers closed in.

The first guard lunged forward, wielding a baton. Natasha sidestepped his attack with grace, her movements fluid as water. She delivered a swift kick to his chest, sending him crashing into his comrades.

A second guard opened fire with an assault rifle, spraying bullets in Natasha's direction. She rolled behind a nearby pillar, bullets whizzing past her. Her keen reflexes and agility kept her one step ahead of the deadly hail of gunfire.

From the shadows, she launched a pair of electrified Widow's Bite disks. They struck two guards, incapacitating them instantly. The room was filled with the acrid smell of burnt fabric as their uniforms smoked.

Amidst the chaos of the compound invasion, as Natasha fought valiantly to protect their home, a sudden surge of determination welled up within you. Being safely tucked away in the secure room, you could hear the sounds of the struggle outside and it gnawed at you, filling your mind with a mixture of fear and courage. What if something happened to Nat? You could prevent it.

With small, trembling hands, you pushed open the heavy door of the safe room. Your heart pounding in your chest as you took hesitant steps toward the fray. You watched Natasha, in her awe-inspiring Black Widow suit, fighting against the row of heavily armed intruders with incredible skill. 

Then, You watched her take some punches and you couldn't just stand there. You have powers too, powers you’re still learning to control. With a deep breath, you focused your thoughts, trying to remember what Wanda had taught you about harnessing your abilities.

As the guards closed in on Natasha, your eyes glowed with a faint, cyan hue. Your small hands extended outward, palms out, and concentrated. Vibratory waves emanated from your palm, a powerful force that rippled through the air like invisible shockwaves.

The sudden disturbance caught the invaders off guard. Staggering and stumbling back, their weapons falling from their hands as they tried to maintain their balance. Natasha seized the opportunity, delivering swift and precise blows to disarm them.

But in your determination to help, you had left yourself vulnerable. One of the guards managed to regain his composure and, in a desperate act, fired his weapon in your direction. The shot rang out, and a searing pain lanced through your left shoulder.

Before Natasha could even catch sight of the bullet, you were on the ground crying in pain. Both Tony’s drone and Natasha swiftly subdued the last of the guards and she rushed to your side. Her heart ached with worry as she gently cradled you in her arms.

As soon as the bullet made impact, Wanda could sense that something wasn’t right, even from miles away. It was as though an invisible thread had been pulled taut, stretching across the miles that separated you. Her brow furrowed in concern as she continued to sense that something was terribly wrong back at the compound. She couldn't put her finger on it, but her maternal instincts told her that you were in danger.

Wanda began running through every option she has to get to you. Would using her powers be faster? What if she used her powers on the jet, could she make it go quicker without overloading the engines?

After weighing her options, she went with the latter. The team had already reversed course once they discovered it was a set up, “Hang on tight,” she said before supercharging the engines. 

“Wanda, what are you doing?” Clint managed to get out as he was smushed against his seat from the G-Force. 

“Y/N is hurt. I can feel it.”

When she finally arrived at the compound, her fears were realized. The sight that greeted her was both heart-wrenching and heartwarming. She found Natasha cradling you in her arms, your face contorted in pain but also displaying a remarkable resilience.

Wanda rushed to your side, her eyes filled with concern. "Y/N! Natasha!" she exclaimed, her voice trembling. She knelt beside you, “Are you hurt?” she frantically asked, her hands glowing with a soft, soothing light as she assessed the extent of your injuries.

Natasha looked up, relief washing over her features as she saw Wanda. "Wanda, i’m sorry, i- i’m so sorry, i put her in the safe room and she tried to help-," Natasha explained, her voice laced with fear of wandas wrath and admiration for your bravery. "She used her powers to protect us, but she got hurt in the process."

“Mama, miss you!” you gasped through clenched teeth.

Wanda's heart swelled with a mixture of pride and concern as she looked down at you. Gently stroking your forehead, she used her powers to ease the pain. "You're so brave, little one," she whispered, her eyes filled with tears. "I'm here now, and I'll make sure you're okay."

Though clearly in pain, you managed a weak but heartfelt smile as you looked up at Wanda. 

Even though Wanda was upset that you were caught in the crossfire, she couldn’t blame Natasha. She understood that Natasha, like herself, cares deeply for your well-being and did everything in her power to protect you during the invasion. The priority for both of them was getting you fixed up. 

Wanda paced nervously alongside Natasha in the compound's infirmary while you lay on a medical bed, receiving treatment for the gunshot wound. 

Natasha reached out to gently place a hand on Wanda's shoulder. "She's going to be okay, Wanda. The doctors are doing everything they can."

Wanda nodded, but her brow was furrowed with concern. "I know, Nat. I just can't believe she came out of that safe room. She's so young, and she shouldn't have been in danger."

Natasha sighed, understanding Wanda's anxiety. "I get it, Wanda. I tried to keep her safe, but she's got that Stark stubbornness, you know? She was determined to help."

Wanda looked at Natasha with a mix of gratitude and worry. "I appreciate that you were here to protect her, I just wish it was different, I wish I had been here, we should have been more careful. She's just a child."

Natasha nodded in agreement. "You're right, Wanda. We should have been more careful about sending everyone on a wild goose chase. But you know how determined she can be. She wanted to help because she’s seen you and me doing what we do."

Wanda sighed, her shoulders slumping with fatigue and relief. "I know, and I'm proud of her courage, but I, I just hate to see her in danger like this. She can’t take after us, I never want her to be in danger again."

Natasha squeezed Wanda's shoulder reassuringly. "We'll keep her safe, Wanda. We're a team, remember? And we'll make sure she knows the importance of staying out of harm's way."

Wanda finally met Natasha's gaze, and there was a softness in her eyes. "Thank you, Nat, for protecting her. I don't know what I would have done if something had happened to her."

Natasha smiled gently. "We're her family, Wanda. We'll always do whatever it takes to keep her safe." she noted as she enveloped Wanda in a comforting embrace. Sinking into the hug, Wanda clung to Nat as she buried her face into her neck and relaxed into the arms of her lover. 

As they continued to watch over your recovery, the couple knew that they would need to work together to ensure a balance between protecting the child they loved and nurturing your independence and bravery.

Taglist: @mymommawanda@livslifeonline@reggierizzoli@mythixmagic@lesbicentism@marvelogic@katethewriter @inluvwithfictionalwomen @spooky-reader1 @marvelogic ​@kissforvoid @pono-pura-vida

[ryker-others]

Svarog relationship headcanons

yes, this is Svarog x reader I love him and he deserves more love @bladesmuse he's consumed my brain so now all of you have to endure it too. Another Svarog thing coming soon

you will never find a man more loyal than Svarog. end of story.

this man was willing to do almost anything to protect the underground, and he would do the same for you

you and Clara are his highest priorities, even above the underground itself

speaking of Clara

she has to love you for things to work with Svarog

but you get to be like another parent to the adorable little girl!

you guys are like a little family!

anything you need? He will try and find a way to get it for you

even if you slightly express interest, he will sense it and try and get it for you

anytime you're upset or something is wrong, he knows

his scans can detect distress of any kind so there's really no point in hiding anything from him

still, if you don't want to talk about something, he won't push you

this man is the perfect size to hold you and completely surround you

like he's so careful when he holds you not to hurt you in any way, but he makes sure his body is comfortable enough for you to rest against

there's even enough room for Clara to be held at the same time too!

but there are times when he can't hold you, so he may set you down and simply give you his coat if you still need cuddles

you know how Clara has Perkins as a little robot to defend her when Svarog is busy? You have one too!

he'll even let you customize it or call it whatever you want

as long as it can do it's job and keep you safe, you can do whatever you want

Svarog will never forget anything about you

it's literally impossible

any information he gathers about you and what you like/dislike is stored in his databank and tagged as important

a TON of those files tagged important are about you

literally almost every time you bond with Clara too

while he's not naturally affectionate in any way, he will give subtle affection if that's what you want

you just have to let him know and he will do it

Svarog would not be with you if he didn't feel he could trust you

so of course your opinion or thoughts are very crucial to him

that being said, he can't always go by what you say or tell you everything

if he feels it would only hurt you or it's a locked file then he can't tell you and he hopes you can understand

he'll also go against your wishes if he thinks that the outcome will be better for you and everyone else

he may try to surprise you with little dates/cute moments tho

Svarog did proper research on what couples normally do, and he's taking examples from that

for example, he may try to set up a nice little meal for you two (despite him not even needing to eat) and he'll try and make it "romantic"

one thing he really does enjoy, is dancing with you

no matter if it's a slow dance or just him watching you spin around, he loves it

he'll even play those memory files over in his system

somewhere he has a photo of you and Clara smiling together and he treasures it the most

literally has backups upon backups of that photo

Svarog was literally programed to value preservation so he's going to try and preserve this relationship :)