#how she has such a firm identity in some ways

[fangatic]

we need to talk about The Silence and The Song

[PLEASE READ] edit to add: i realise that this post has been reblogged far and wide and that there is not a lot i can do about it now, but this is me trying anyway.

posting examples from the fic about my issues with its repetitive structure was careless of me, and i apologise to those of you who read it and became insecure about your own writing style. as someone who has worked with ai in academic settings, it's incredibly difficult for me to explain to you how the tone and structure of ai-generated fiction works and how, after reading enough of it, you can simply just tell. i do also realise that this is an incredibly weak argument, which is why i didn't include it when i originally wrote this post.

all that to say: there is an enormous difference between "beginner's writing" and ai writing. being repetitive as a new writer (or a seasoned one who just likes using repetition) is so normal. as is flowery/purple language. i've read hundreds of books and fics and the difference between these traits in ai-text and actual works is starkly clear. please don't feel anxious over the examples i've used in this post.

again, i apologise for any distress i have caused.

as per my last post, i have received a lot of encouragement to go public with this, and the more disappointed people i have in my dms, the angrier i get. so i will.

the silence and the song is an ancient arlathan au DA fic on ao3 by luxannaslut, and it is partly, if not entirely, written by an ai. i have no wish to be involved in any kind of fandom drama or witch hunting or bullying, but as a writer myself there are few things that piss me off more than watching people steal the work of others because they can't be fucked to write. it's disrespectful to your fellow writers, it's disrespectful to your readers, and it's disrespectful to the authors of the works the ai is stealing from.

ai is a plague that has no business being in creative spaces and you must do better.

the writing pattern

there was something very odd and monotone about the sentence structure of tsats that i couldn't quite place, so i fed chatgpt a prompt along the lines of "two people in a fantasy novel hate each other, but they secretly desire one another, and they kiss", and the screenshots above are the results. the third one is an excerpt from chapter 40 of tsats. the writing pattern is identical and it doesn't seem like the "writer" has even bothered to pretend they wrote it. if you're going to use ai, at least be sneaky about it. you know, paraphrase a little.

nonsense descriptions

"her nimble fingers worked with quiet precision" (ct. 1), "his grip firm but tender" (ct. 33), "her gown pooling around her like embers" (ct. 1).

fingers don't make sound, so what does quiet precision mean? as opposed to what? her joints cracking with every movement? how is a grip firm but tender? what does that mean? since when do embers pool?

the entire fic is littered with these adjectives that contradict each other or just straight up do not make sense, because all an ai does is generate descriptive language with no understanding of what the words it's spitting out actually mean. i could spend hours picking out examples from the seven billion pages worth of text, but i quite frankly have better things to do and would simply challenge you to try getting through a chapter or two without noticing the pattern.

repetition at structure-level

all the scenes in this fic are described in pretty much the same way. they open with purple prose vomit of the surroundings; solas is standing somewhere looking "unreadable as ever"; ellana's fiery golden molten fire copper ember ginger red hair is flowing this and that way; there's some dialogue with whoever is present and it leaves ellana feeling different variations of "something she couldn't name". this is, once again, a blatantly obvious sign of ai. below is the result of me feeding chatgpt the line "write me a scene from a fantasy novel where a woman with red hair is sitting on the ground in a magical garden at night", and side by side with that is the opening scene of the fic. make your own judgement.

repetition at word-level

this one speaks for itself. we fucking get it. her dress is orange, her hair is red, mythal's presence is heavy in the room, solas looks unreadable, compassion is sitting on her head like a crown, solas' ears are betraying him and ellana's move with every thought she thinks. we get it. the issue here is that an ai remembers the info you feed it, but not necessarily the info it shits out. if it's being told to write scene after scene of an elven woman with a gown that looks like fire doing xyz, it's going to do so with no regard for how many times the reader has already been informed of these details.

lastly: the breakneck speed

359,6k words in four weeks by a person who allegedly is employed and married and hasn't pre-written anything? no. any writer will tell you that this simply isn't possible. it absolutely infuriates me to see how much praise this "writer" gets for posting up to three full chapters in a day without anyone calling bullshit. i am pulling out my hair, you guys.

why i'm not going to live and let live this one

perhaps i would be less angry if the fic was some silly bullshit court intrigue Y/A stuff, but this is a text that handles very heavy and triggering topics such as SA, coercion, domestic abuse, and other things of the same vein. to sit back and put your feet up while having a robot write these extremely sensitive and very real human experiences with words it has stolen from texts written by actual persons is fucking heinous. the "writer" should be deeply ashamed of themselves and i'm sick and tired of watching people eat up their bs.

and on that note: the amount of people in my dm's telling me that they feel stupid and naive for not clocking this has infuriated me more than anything else. you're not foolish for this. being fed ai-generated bullshit is not what is supposed to happen on any creative platform and much less a fandom-centred one, so of course no one approaches a fic through that lens. fandom and fic writing is supposed to be about passion and the only person in this situation who needs to do better and change their behaviour is luxannaslut. polluting our creative spaces, wasting the time of your readers, and minimising the effort of actual writers who are working hard to provide content for us all to share and enjoy is vile and so, so lazy. i beg of you: do better.

[subrosasteath]

Making another post actually, because all of the symbolism in Win or Lose is amazing.

Having anxiety be a creature that just grows and grows, and eats away and crushes Laurie down until she can't speak or walk like she used to? Having Laurie's dad always be under the sun, or some kind of light to signify that while Laurie is religious, and looks up to god, what she's really looking to is her father?

The way armour is necessary for some jobs - Frank need to be able to take criticism, and still stick firm to what he knows is true, - and that relief of taking it off? And when it bleeds into personal life, what can he even do? When he's been heart, because he can't open up, doesn't that just make it harder to shed that in the first place?

And then Ira, whose perspective reminds me a lot of Captain Underpants, and is so, so sweet. He's just a little kid, and a little weird, and he just wants friends who like him for that! And he wants his big sister to like him, and spend time with him! And he's so imaginative, the scribbly, cartoon style of his little world he spies through? I was just in love. The fact that he kept picturing the teenagers as super heros and rebels and good guys- and just the fact that he sounds like a kid! Are you kidding, that autraulian joke? I laughed so hard because I've heard kids talk like that, that's what shy, caring little kids sound like when they've been shot down before!

Yuwen's mini me inside his heart screaming like me!!, the version of him he doesn't let out, because it's cardboard and flimsy and so easy to crush. I'm really amazed at the way they portrayed Yuwen and Taylor, because i remember being in middleschool, and while I never dated (cough cough aroace), the depiction of them "picking out curtains and moving in" feels so real, because I do believe that's what love will always feel like, no matter the age. Being in middleschool doesn't mean the love isn't true, or isn't there just because it's not likely to last. And the way they depicted kissing, not by showing them kiss, but by showing what it felt like? I was amazed. Baffled. I can't believe I haven't seen more things like that.

(It's actually incredibly interesting to me, that 2/3 main male characters shown so far, have gimmicks of protection. Protecting themselves, their emotions, and who they are as a person, because they feel they can't be open and honest, they feel they can't trust their emotions to guide them.)

I talked about Rochelle and her mom in a seperate post, but the gasp I let out when I realized Rochelle's gravity was weird because she didn't have the stable force of a mom? Oh my god. Rochelle feels like her family is upside down, that she has to be the adult, and because of that, every force in her life is turned upside. She has no one to rely on and nothing to ground her, until her mom is finally there for her, no phone in hand at the end of episode 4. Gravity rights itself because her mom is there, fully present, to help her.

The way they contrasted Rochelle's episode's mood with her mom's was fantastic, because her mom's felt like a performance. She's performing, always, because she doesn't know how to be otherwise! She performs being a good mom and performs being happy for her audience, and even performs at the party, wether she wants to or not! That was an audience! And everything about her performance has bleeded into the way she sees the world, how everything's pink and sparkling and upbeat. It's only when she finds Rochelle do we see her not performing, we get to see, for the first time, who Vanessa is for just Rochelle. For just her family.

I'm so invested, so obsessed, SO READY FOR THE NEXT TWO EPISODES!!

(As a sidenote, if you haven't seen the storyboards of the cut trans scene, here's a link to the internet archive of them. I can't find them anywhere else. But the Picasso style falling apart, the shattering and splitting of identity, because Kai is scared, and has to act both parts and it's confusing and hurting her and oh- it really just punches me in the gut.

Here's the link directly to the archive: https://archive.org/details/23fr-4r

and the link to the reddit post i got it from: https://www.reddit.com/r/lostmedia/comments/1hhj1zh/partially_lost_deleted_storyline_from_upcoming/

please go watch it if you like the show it's absolutely beautiful <3)

[two-white-butterflies]

for the plot

Description: You have a boyfriend, and the entire firm is trying to figure out who he is. One thing is for sure though: Mike Ross is good at hiding secrets from everyone except Rachel Zane.

Part two of slowburn, but can be read as a standalone.

Pairing: harvey specter/reader

Warning: slightly oc harvey because trust me, he wouldn't date anyone during this era.

It was Monday morning when a bouquet of flowers was spotted on top of your office desk. Correction, you could barely see your office desk because all the interns and associates were gathered around your office like they were gawking at an animal inside a zoo enclosure. "What are all of you doing here?" You raised an eyebrow.

You suppose that some of the interns don't get paid - but the associates most definitely are - and they shouldn't be doing this during office hours. "Someone sent you some flowers," Phoebe points out as she shoved her way through the crowd.

The associates and interns alike opted to stare at the floor, prepared to hear you reprimand them (and in your defense, you don't reprimand them at all, but the circumstances were different this time), but you hold your tongue. A sigh escapes your mouth - typical Harvey, always showing off - you think to yourself while feeling a blush creep up your cheeks.

"Get back to work!" You ordered as the crowd dispersed, as if they weren't even there in the first place.

Everyone returned to their proper workstations, everyone except Phoebe who was quite adamant in following you inside of your office.

She tilts her head slightly.

"Aren't you going to tell me who sent you those flowers?" She asks. Your eyebrows merged. "My boyfriend, who else?" You answered plainly - a teasing smirk plastered on your lips as you settled on the desk. Donna has certainly been rubbing off Phoebe with her (caring) nosy abilities. It unnerves you how much those two know about the people in this office - they know eveything! Even what Jessica eats for breakfast (hyperbole).

You tapped your fingers impatiently on the desk, reaching for Harvey's small but toe-curlingly sweet note.

Happy Monday, my little duckling. I hope that this day treats you well - H. Reginald ;)

On your second date, you fell into a koi pond, and a few ducklings gathered around your body as if you were their mother, or part of their family, which is why Harvey has given you that nickname. The story sounds embarrassing, but that's the crazy thing about love: you can do the most embarrassing things, and they'd still be in love with you.

"What's it say?" Phoebe sits on the chair parallel to you, a bundle of files clutched near her chest, and you know that she only brought those files so she could have a reason to march inside of your office. A genuine smile ghosts your lips. She's already being such a good lawyer by asking you all these questions - it's obvious that she wants to know everything. And you will reiterate, she knows everything. Everything except who you're dating...

"Nothing to you," you placed the note inside of your pocket.

A whine escapes her mouth as she settles the files on your desk. There are at least twenty files already beginning to pile on your desk, and it's only Monday morning! Being a lawyer is such a boring job. "When are you going to tell me the name of your lover?" She emphasizes the word lover, knowing how much you hated that word.

"The day that you stop being so damn nosy," you rolled your eyes, a mischievous plan beginning to form in your mind. Phoebe and Donna always know the juicy workplace gossip, and they refuse to share it with you! Them not knowing the identity of your boyfriend makes your stomach giddy with mischievousness. This is basically their payback for not telling you about that thing with Harold Brink.

"I'm not nosy. I'm just curious and you told me that curiosity is the weapon of a good lawyer." She used your quote against you.

"A good lawyer also knows when to stop asking questions, so get the hell out of my office and get back to work!" You used your boyfriend's favorite catchphrase against her, a teasing smile still plastered on your lips as you hoped she wouldn't recognize your tone.

A few words of complaint exit her mouth, but she goes back to work nonetheless. Sorry Phoebe, let me have my fun, you'll find out soon enough anyway...

It was during lunchtime in the partner's lounge that you were able to meet your boyfriend. He was eating his favorite salad when you walked in with your warm moussaka, courtesy of Phoebe, who gave it to you in the hopes that you'd tell her who your boyfriend is.

"I thought your lunch break was at 12?" He pulled the empty chair beside him, leaving you ample space to sit down and open the metal lunchbox. "I eat my lunch when I want to eat my lunch," you answered with an eyeroll. "Whatever you say," he chuckles while reaching for his lunchbox to bring out a box of Chuckie, your favorite chocolate milk from the Asian supermarket.

Chuckie is perhaps mankind's greatest creation besides Milo.

"I saw your fridge filled with this, so I brought one for you," he whispered, and you gave him an appreciative smile. "Thank you!" You pressed a kiss to his lips. You've never seen Harvey act this way before - he always keeps his feelings hidden in his chest. He's an action guy more than a words guy, but you can see that he's trying to be both for you, and the thought of that warms your heart.

"Don't worry, I got it from your fridge." He says, and a gasp escapes your mouth. You hit his forearm lightly, and he releases a chuckle.

"I'm joking," he raises his hands in mock surrender. "I'd never steal anything from you." He emphasizes the word 'steal', which makes you frown because he has already stolen your heart (cheesy).

"Oh, by the way, thank you for the flowers. Phoebe has been asking me about you the entire day, but she doesn't actually know it's you." You giggled while taking a bite of your moussaka. "Donna has also been bugging me about your boyfriend, and I told her that I didn't know and didn't care if you were dating anyone." he informs.

Your eyes having a conversation of its own.

"It's so annoying how they know everything," you groaned endearingly. "So we have the same idea then?" He asks, aware that your minds work in the same way. It is part of the reason why he loves you with all of your heart - you are his intellectual equal. He likes the way that you are whole even without him, and you like him for that same reason, too. He doesn't make you perfect because you are already perfect. He just makes you feel more and vice versa.

"Try and drag this thing on because it is quite scary how much they already know about us then tell them who we're dating when the time is right?" You inquired, checking to see if he had the same idea.

"Exactly," He confirmed.

"Cool," you smiled.

"Cool," he repeated your phrase while taking a sip of your chocolate milk.

Wednesday noon.

You leaned on your office chair, popping your headphones on as you continued watching your third episode of the day. Normally, your weeks are filled with cramming and stress, but miraculously, there is nothing to do today. Well, maybe your motivation (Harvey) just makes you work a tad bit faster than before.

You lowered the brightness of your laptop.

If Jessica finds out how fast you finish these cases, she'd be very mad and impressed, but the thing is...she doesn't have to know.

You pretended to type away on your laptop, but truly, you're watching a Turkish drama that Harvey's sister-in-law recommended. You were about to reach the scene where Serkan Bolat finds out about his secret daughter, but your MS Teams begins ringing loudly, almost rendering you deaf because hello, you're wearing headphones.

Harvey Reginald Specter is calling you...

DONNA PAULSEN

"Hey, baby."

Donna hears a female voice from the other side of the intercom, specifically, Harvey's intercom. Her ears almost pulsed at the sound of a strangely familliar voice from the other side of the line, but the voice fades in the background when Harvey switches his intercom off. Donna's head went careening, her office chair spinning around so that she'd be facing Harvey's office.

She almost feels proud of him for going on a date after so long, but knowing him, he's not the type of person to commit, and knowing him, the only person he's ever been fond of is you, although he doesn't really say it out loud. To that thought, Donna's heart sinks to her stomach - right you had a boyfriend and Harvey has a fling.

At least both of you aren't married yet.

You still have time to date each other.

Donna's eyes narrowed, trying to read his lips, but Harvey, being clever and private, turned his office chair around so that he'd be staring at New York's skyline. His back was entirely facing Donna. She couldn't even see his face through the window's reflection.

Damn!

But thankfully, just as Donna was about to give up, Phoebe (her best friend in the whole wide world alongside Rachel) was strolling by. "Pst, Phebes!" Donna called out to her in a half-whisper, and the associate turned to look in her direction. "What?" She asked.

"I just heard Harvey talk to a woman on the phone. He even turned off his intercom, he never turns his intercom off! It must be serious." Donna added a personal opinion to the story that she was telling. A gasp escapes Phoebe's mouth. "Could it be (Your Name)?" Donna inquires - able to remember that you were also dating someone whom Phoebe speculates also works in the firm.

"Nope, she was on her laptop the last time I saw her, and her phone's literally charging in my cubicle." Phoebe shot the question down quick. "Damn, love is in the air in this office I guess." Donna thought to herself, and a giggle escaped the associate's lips.

"All this love and no boyfriends for us," the associate complained.

"I know, right?" Donna continued watching Harvey's figure.

"So, are you going to try and figure out who Harvey's dating?" Phoebe inquires, always the one to try and piece two and two together. Donna reminds herself that the associate worked as a detective for two years before going to law school.

Donna shakes her head. She knows her best friend like the back of her own hand. "I know how Harvey gets when it comes to his lovelife. If she's important, we'll know - if she's not, she'll be gone." Donna sighs, and Phoebe nods her head.

"I guess, plus, I feel like he'd get mad at us for trying to pry into his personal life like that..." She agrees.

"You're doing the same thing to (Your Name), for your information." Donna teases. "If she doesn't like me trying to know, she'll tell me, but I have a feeling that she's only hiding her boyfriend because she likes annoying me," Phoebe mumbles.

"Yeah, you do look a little cute when you're annoyed." Donna chuckled. "Whatever, Donna." Phoebe rolled her eyes.

MIKE ROSS

"I already prepared the restaurant you're going to, the flowers are ready, yes, I also booked a private room because I know how busy and loud La J'amie gets during Sundays." Mike Ross opened his mouth to speak, partly annoyed and confused as to why Harvey was treating him like he was his personal assistant.

"Good," Harvey replied while highlighting the mistakes in the contract that Mike Ross drafted. "Why are you making me do this, anyway? You have Donna," Mike pointed out.

Harvey's eyebrows merged together, personally offended. "Why am I making you do this? Because I'm the reason you work in this office?" Harvey rolled his eyes while handing the contract draft back to the associate. "Right," Mike stared off to the side.

He's thankful to Harvey for giving him this job, but sometimes he just wants to leave - because he knows that this isn't his place. He loves being a lawyer and all, but it feels wrong practicing when he doesn't have a law degree - when he has cheated his way through everything that he's pretending to have now.

But that's a problem for another day.

"When are you going to tell them that you're with each other?" Mike asks in a rather pressing tone because Rachel has been suspicious of him - mostly because he spends a lot of time outside and he no longer has free time to go on dates with her - because Harvey is making him plan everything that he's doing with you and it's horrible because Mike doesn't even have the reigns to anything. Harvey micromanages him with this date-related nonsense. Harvey doesn't even care about half of the work that Mike does in the lawfirm!

"That's for me to know and for you to find out, now get the hell out of my office and get back to work." Harvey commanded.

There were a million things that Harvey Specter loved about you, but what he loved the most was your ability to persuade and tell a story. You had a silver tongue, and you were an expert raconteur. Whereas he relied on his charm and his ability to see through everything, this union of yours proved to be divine as you covered his blind spots and he covered yours.

In the courtroom, both of you were formidable lawyers (which, you admit, sounds a bit like liars, but you've never lied, only partly obscured the truth). "You know, the funny thing is, I hate mergers and acquisitions." You confessed while tracing the imaginary lines of his chest. "That used to be your field," he scoffed.

Yep, because it's the field that brings in the most clients!

"I know, and it's so repetitive. If I were able to choose my specialty again, I'd go to family law." You mumbled, eyelids fluttering as you fought against your inevitable drowsiness. His hands slither down to your waist, pulling you closer and lifting the covers over your shoulder. "Please, you'd be too stressed there, all your hair would fall out." He mumbled while pressing a kiss to your temple.

"It's the most interesting specialty, please. You know how Anna Karenina said; All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way." You remembered the quote from the time that your high school teacher forced you to read the book.

Harvey is silent for a second, perhaps, relating to the quote.

"Harvey?" You raised an eyebrow, suddenly remembering the story about his family. "When we have a family, if you want to have one, let's try to make everyone happy." He asks, as you burrowed deeper into the crook of his neck. "We'll have a happy family, Harvey. I promise," you gave him a smile.

"Good," he nods his head.

Perfect.

RACHEL ZANE

Rachel Zane's eyebrows merged together.

"It's a Saturday and you're going somewhere?" She inquired, watching as Mike hurried to wear his clothes.

"I'm sorry, it's Harvey." He reasoned, his voice apologetic.

"What is he making you do now?" She interrogated, a hand on her waist as she stared up at him. "Classified client interviews," Mike pressed a kiss to her forehead. She wants to believe him - Mike is not the type of person who lies just to get what he wants, but she's been cheated on before - she's been someone's mistress before.

All liars think everyone lies.

She feels guilt bubble in the bottom of her stomach. "I'll see you on Monday, then." She mumbles underneath her breath, watching as unease floods Mike's features. "I love you, okay." Mike repeats.

"I love you, too, Mike." She replies.

.

.

.

Rachel was about to put Mike's coat in the laundry, but her hands brushed past a few papers inside his coat pockets. She pulls each paper out, thankful that she thought to check his pockets before throwing them in the wash - these could be important - she thinks to herself as her hands danced over a thicker piece of parchment.

Reservation in La J'amie for two. Sunday 7:00pm. Private room.

"Private room?" Her eyebrows merged, her mouth suddenly feeling dry. Her previous thoughts echoed in her head. All liars think everyone lies. All cheaters think that everyone cheats.

Is Mike cheating on her?

She knows that she deserves it - she deserves losing this perfect dorky and nerd guy because she isn't entirely a perfect person. But, she promised to change a long time ago - and she has changed. She knows that karma doesn't care, though, but she hoped that karma would gloss over this man because she really, really loves him.

She loves Mike with all of her heart, without any doubts, and without asking for anything else in return. Rachel sank to the floor, her eyes trailing back and forth as she contemplated her next actions.

.

.

.

Thankfully, Phoebe was free - Donna was on a date.

"When you catch them together, we have to beat Mike up. Of course, we have to ask the girl if she knows, and if she does, I will drag her off the pavement!" Phoebe rambled with anger pulsing through her veins as if she were the one cheated on. "I'll assault them. I'll make sure their parents won't be able to recognize them -"

Phoebe's words are interrupted when they see a familiar car pull up the restaurant's driveway. Harvey Specter's car. A 1961 Black Jaguar E-Type - Rachel remembers from Mike's drunkish ramblings (mostly complaining about his boss).

He sees Harvey Specter step out of the vehicle, walking around the busy streets to open the left-side door - revealing you.

"Oh my god, they're dating each other," Phoebe mumbles out loud as Rachel pulls her towards a pole that is big enough to obscure their slender bodies. It isn't lost on the girls - the way that Harvey's hand curled around the small of your waist while guiding you inside the restaurant, there were basically hearts in both of your eyes, drunk at the sight of each other that you were unable to notice Phoebe (who was wearing a neon magenta coat) and Rachel.

"So, Mike isn't cheating on me. Harvey's just making him do restaurant reservations because he doesn't want you and Donna to know." Rachel says to herself. She's smart - very smart.

Phoebe releases a deep breath - good - because she wasn't exactly sure that she'd be able to drag Mike and his alleged mistress through the crowded streets of New York City. "You know that there's only one way to find out, right?" Phoebe raises an eyebrow while dragging Rachel inside of the restaurant.

Phoebe marches in the direction of the receptionist with a cadence that only a woman who could afford to eat there could. "Good evening, ma'am, may I take your name?" The receptionist looked around nervously; he was obviously new here.

"Ross. I have a reservation in the private room." Phobe announces with her chin held up high. Rachel is almost thankful that the other woman decided to wear a neon magenta coat for only someone rich could have the courage of wearing something as ugly as that.

"Sorry, ma'am. We don't have a reservation under the name Ross. We have one under the name Specter, though." The receptionist says with a forced smile. Rachel and Phoebe exchange a knowing look.

Rachel relaxes.

"I think that was in another restaurant, Phebes." Rachel suddenly blurts out, a wave of relief washing over her features and soul. "Oh, right, apologies for that, darling." Phoebe smiles while turning around to leave. The moment that both of the women stepped outside the restaurant, a happy shriek escaped Phoebe's lips.

"Oh my fucking god," she cheered. Happy to finally know the identity of your boyfriend - there was only one thing in Phoebe's mind, 'I told you so', that was the first thing she was going to tell Donna. Rachel forces a smile on her lips - her personal issues with infidelity were a conversation for another day. Today, she's going to be happy for you.

You tilted your head slightly, seeing a familiar magenta coat from your periphery. "Phoebe and Rachel are here." You pointed out, and Harvey twists his neck his eyes meeting those of Rachel and he gives a nod of confirmation.

You share a smile with your boyfriend and he presses a kiss to the back of your hand. "One thing is for sure, they know." You hummed.

"We'll deal with them tomorrow," he chuckled amusedly.

[yourstardarling]

Lilith Analysis

(Lady Lilith, by Dante Gabriel Rossetti)

In my perspective, Lilith symbolizes the female intuition which is often vilified in our patriarchal society. She questions the status quo, defying societal norms and forges her own path for how she lives her life. In some interpretations, Lilith is depicted as the serpent in the garden, tempting Eve with the apple as revenge for her expulsion after refusing to submit to Adam. Targeting Eve instead of Adam, shows how Lilith understands the curious nature within women to want to know more and what ifs. It is the same curiosity that made Pandora open the box releasing malicious spirits into the world.

The energy of Lilith is a vengeful one as she sought revenge against God for her banishment out of the garden. In her expulsion, she was stated to steal babies and harm innocent lives, unsympathetic to anyone in her way. So within our charts, Lilith shows where we've experienced profound shame and societal rejection. It is where we are often demonized for refusing to yield to others' expectations. If we don't heal this pain it often becomes a form of self-destruction, fueling a need to gain revenge, harming anyone in our path. This part of our chart is usually suppressed, relegated to the shadows, but integration of this energy is crucial. Mainly because keeping our shame underneath the surface will often cause self-sabotage within the house Lillith is in. Finding the underlying root of the problem will often lead to reclaiming of your power, making Lilith be an energy of magnetization and authority. Neglection will only exacerbate internal conflict.

Lilith in the 1st:In the first house, these individuals are the walking embodiments of Lilith. They are often faced with deep-seated feelings of shame regarding their sexuality and physical appearance. Many have endured the pain of bullying in their youth, which has made them feel shunned out from society. This shame becomes a heavy burden that feels as if it is a part of them, complicating efforts to express their true self openly. Consequently, a portion of their identity remains veiled, guarded against potential judgment or rejection from others. Yet, beneath this veil within their unconscious, lies a potent magnetism. A profound sense of sexuality that others find rather attractive or unsettling. They find themselves both desired and feared. But honestly like Britney said it’s because, "All of the boys and all of the girls want to if you seek Amy." Lilith's influence in this house encourages independence and self-assertion. It teaches the importance of standing firm in the face of societal pressures and refusing to be demonized for your own authenticity. However, yielding to criticism and seeking external validation risks facing internal conflicts. A constant battle against yourself. That is why confronting the shadow aspects of one's personality should be practiced, as it offers a pathway to self-discovery and empowerment. When you are able to show resilience and unwavering faith in yourself, you're able to garner admiration and respect from those around you. The ability to transmute pain into productive actions serves as a magnetic force, attracting allies and opportunities alike. Learning to embrace your inner sexual energy is imperative, as it is something that cannot be suppressed. Unfortunately, this embracement may invite unwanted attention, leaving you vulnerable to exploitation and trauma. Overall, the role of Lilith in the first house is one of self-acceptance and defiance against societal norms. It's a journey marked by challenges, but also by profound personal growth and authenticity.

Lilith in the 2nd: In the house of personal gains, Lilith has felt great shame surrounding her personal values. Individuals with this placement have a hard time surrounding their self worth and physical assets. Possessive tendencies lie beneath the surface, as a consequence from being betrayed in the past. People may have taken advantage of them for their material value and stolen from them. Financial wounds run deep making them unable to properly trust themselves with money. Might find themselves in cycles of reckless spending, prioritizing instant gratification over long term investments. The types go on a shopping spree and then feel guilty for indulging materialistically.These people can either be overindulgent or extremely picky when it comes to what they spend. There is an inherent value of pleasure and spending resources on things that make you feel good.The sign Lilith is in will give you an idea on what you unwarily spend money on and guide your financial decisions. Implementing a budget plan can be very beneficial in uncovering and healing shame surrounding your spending habits. It will help you regulate your spending. Underlying shadow challenges when it comes to self worth is another aspect of this placement. Leading to having doubts about deservingness and attaining success. Lilith in the 2nd, prompts a reevaluation of your values. Rather than being overly picky, you're encouraged to be intentional in your pursuits. Learn to align your investments with your deepest values and aspirations. Family dynamics may also contribute to your relationship with money, with the possibility of past generations engaging in questionable financial practices. Additionally, Lilith's immature aspects may tempt individuals to resort to unethical means of acquiring wealth, such as engaging in sex work or participating in illicit activities. However, succumbing to these temptations risks exploiting others and ultimately perpetuating cycles of harm. In navigating the influence of Lilith in the 2nd house, you are urged to exercise caution and integrity in financial dealings. By confronting shadows and cultivating a sense of self-worth, they can transcend shame and reclaim power over their financial well-being.

Lilith in the 3rd: When Lilith is in the third house of youth and mental stimulation, these individuals have deep shame within their speech and communication. Oftentimes they were demonized as a child, facing constant scrutiny about their childish behavior. Parental guardians made them seem like they were to blame for the smallest issues that occurred. In school they may have felt shunned out from their peers, becoming the target of bullying and ridicule. This ridicule can even come from their teachers that overly criticized them for not being the perfect student, leading them to feel like they were a bad kid. Might indicate having a speech impediment, having a hard time communicating how you feel and issues surrounding being able to read. Your intelligence was significantly downplayed from the earlier years of school which made you believe you were dumb. For this reason, you may prefer being quiet and only speaking when you are needed to, often avoiding starting conversation. To others you may seem standoffish when you speak, but instead it can be anxiety to say what you really want because of public reaction. This Lilith wound is one centered around your inner child and taking back power over your mind. Intrusive thoughts of feeling less than can often be an underlying trigger, but you must recognize that these voices in your head are not your own. It is programming from the ridicule you received as a kid. Mindfulness and meditation practices can help regulate the outside input that comes in your head. You're a very intellectually capable individual that often understands knowledge about topics considered unconventional by society. Don’t be ashamed of what you know and use it to teach other people information you are passionate about.

Lilith in the 4th: Within the house of home and heritage, Lilith has wrested with feeling of shame for her family background. These individuals can often grow up feeling sexually repressed by their family. Criticism for what they were and being called a slut for wanting to express themselves. This placement reminds me of Meg from Family Guy, and how she is consistently made the butt of all ridicule by her family. As you went through puberty, you could've felt uncomfortable being objectified by family members. Some could've faced even faced exploitation by their own family. There is a strange focus on purity within the household and committing towards conservative ideals of presenting yourself. From their point of view, you may be seen as someone who is promiscuous and disobeying traditional values. You might find it hard to feel at home within yourself because of these past afflictions. This can even lead to you feeling ashamed about your emotional responses, often viewing them as evil instead of necessary feelings. Aside from sexuality, this Lilith placement also indicates having shame regarding your origin. There might have been concealed truths about your birth, unraveling as you mature. Might have felt like your family were strangers and you did not belong with them. Issues with the mother figure can be highlighted by this placement. You don't get along well and could feel a sense of cruelty from her. A shadow side to you is kept veiled from your family, which makes you feel like an outsider by them. You may have a reputation of being the rebellious cousin. They may harbor outdated ideologies such as racism, homophobia and xenophobia, that makes you more ashamed of them. The home you grew up in may have been the cause of this shame too, because of its design or infestation issues. Overall, stepping away from your family's point of view of the world is a big factor with this Lilith placement. You cannot allow their lives to dictate who you are meant to be. Learning to nurture yourself and finding your own community is an essential part of your journey. As time pass, you may discover yourself becoming a space for other people to confide in about their personal issues. A testament to Lilith making a home for herself outside the boundaries of Eden.

Lilith in the 5th: In the fifth house, individuals have grappled with profound shame surrounding the way they experience pleasure within their lives. Their childhood may have been faced with restrictions on the ways they could have fun, such as engaging in hobbies solely to appease their parents rather than for personal enjoyment. Activities you found enjoyment in, felt like you needed to keep hidden away from other people in order to not get ridiculed. There are plenty of hobbies you enjoy that others will find unorthodox to have. For example, going to shooting ranges, participating in drag shows, taking part in the circus or cosplaying your favorite characters. When it comes to your talents, you might face envy from others because they want the attributes that you have. May face hate in your extracurricular activities and being outcasted by team members. In your own eyes, your often unsure about your talents and feel like you're not good enough in your practice. Additionally, there is also shame regarding sexual pleasure. You might find it fun to explore, but some experiences make it unsettling for you to enjoy. There may be a need to keep your sex life a secret from other people. However, sex positivity can be a notable aspect of this placement though, not having much conservative notions in your sexual experiences. When it comes to children, you might feel some shame for not wanting to have kids and face scrutiny from others for this stance. You can even feel like you hate the thought of children and not wanting them around you. If you do end up having kids, they can exhibit Lilith quality traits of rebellion and unorthodox behavior. There is definitely a shadow side to how you gain pleasure with this placement, indulging in self destructive behaviors and selling yourself away for fun. You must learn to tame that primal urge within you when you are having a great time. Especially as this can lead to addictions to pleasure, such as having a gambling, drug abuse and being overly sexual. Learn to set boundaries when you're having fun.

Lilith In the 6th: In the house of service, Lilith plays a commanding role within her work space. This placement reminds me of The Devil wears Prada, where Miranda was seen as a formidable figure by her colleagues. Similarly, coworkers may harbor similar feelings toward you, casting you as assertive & harsh. You may face a lot of scrutiny in the workplace and could even work in an environment where there's a prevalence of discrimination. Workplace harassment can occur here as well, oftentimes facing oversexualization. Navigating and accepting your shadow persona in the workplace becomes essential. As long as you come there to do your job, that’s all that matters. Just try not to lash out at your colleagues because of misconception and other issues. There may be a big rumor that you are lazy for not doing as much as everyone else. However, you're the type of person that only comes and does the work that is necessary, not overworking themselves as everyone else. On the flip side, you can be hyper focused on work and do a lot more in your day that others don’t really see. This can take a toll on your health and work stress can be a big indication of this placement. Speaking of health, you might have a terrible relationship with health officials. Health experts in the past might have treated you poorly and even faced a misdiagnosis. Your relationship with health overall is something you can feel intense emotions around. A health condition could make you feel like you don’t have the same capabilities as other people. Might struggle with digestion and eating food to nourish yourself. There is a lot of necessary shadow work to uncover within your habits and daily routines with this placement. Learn to not be so hard on yourself, making time to properly maintain your physical needs.Health is wealth after all.

Lilith In the 7th: When Lilith lies in the house of partnerships, there is often shame surrounding the close connections these people have. They often easily attract people with Lilith energy in their lives, such as rebellion, ostracization and outcasts. You're often able to see the version of others that they keep hidden underneath. For some reason, people can feel like they can trust you with their problems and you make space to not judge them. Something about you just allows people to feel easily able to open up their shame to you. It might be because there is a part of you that has felt the same shame of being shunned out by other people. In your love life, there could be a tendency to feel outcasted by your partners which leads to having a warped perception of yourself. Partners often can make you feel like you are too much and incapable of being loved. May find it hard to feel their needs being met in their personal relationships. Here lilith indicates issues of being taken advantage of by other people and personal power being exploited. Aggressive aspects can also show facing abuse, which can make these individuals pretty guarded when meeting others. You could feel the need to be in control and have a dominant role in your love life. However, self-destructive tendencies may spur from not getting what you want out of a partner and lead you sabotaging your connections. You can often pursue relationships you know are unhealthy for you. There’s a tendency to want people that bring out an unhinged version of yourself, becoming a whole different person with a partner. Shadow work needs to be done as to why you chase these toxic connections, which sometimes is rooted from the way you viewed the partnership of your parents.

Lilith in the 8th: In the house of death and loss, Lilith is put to face the extremes. Each time they are in a transitional phase in their lives, they get kicked out of their paradise. These individuals understand the darker sides of life and are somewhat good at navigating their shadow. Shadow side can often take things to the extreme when they are out of control. Really good at understanding the taboo and being okay with things that are scarier for other people. A necessary need to make peace with inner demons and resolving past psychological conflicts. While they are able to easily exude a seductive persona, sex can be a harsh topic for them to feel comfortable with. Losing their virginity might have been a monumental experience that shifted the way they act in their lives. There is a need to work on resolving issues with sex and not being afraid of it . Also, you might be into some fetishes that you feel the need to keep hidden from other people. Hiding is a big coping mechanism for them, whenever they feel like the world rejects them, they bury themselves down in shadows to not be seen. A distinct relationship with death, some hold huge guilt for being unphased by death, while others worry about their own deaths. If a family member had died, you might feel guilty for not being sad or crying at the funeral. These people can mourn their innocence a lot, thinking of a time they were untouched by the world around them. During transitional phases of your life, you could be vilified and demonized for acting differently. Might have had a dark aesthetic or emo phase during your teen years. Change can be a scary thing for you and you could harbor strong resistance towards new possibilities. This mainly comes from the scrutiny you’ve felt by other people. Learn to embrace the taboo and understand change will only allow you to reclaim your power.

Lilith in the 9th: These individuals hold a complex relationship with religion and belief systems. Growing up, they likely experienced a religious environment that instilled fear and submission to authority. It's possible they had overly religious parents who prioritized adherence to faith, rather than showing genuine love and understanding for their children. As you mature, there's a tendency to reject traditional systems of beliefs for more esoteric philosophies, helping you find empowerment through alternative spiritual paths. Although shifting your beliefs will allow you to have a sense of freedom, remnants of past religious trauma still linger in your mind. Guilt for what you believe in is a big focus for this placement. They often find themselves at odds with mainstream perspectives, feeling a sense of alienation and struggling to fit in. There's a tendency to doubt their intelligence and the information they know. This struggle extends to academic pursuits as well, where they may feel out of place and struggle to connect with their peers. Moving away from their area of upbringing can be liberating, allowing them to explore their shadow aspects and embrace their darker side through travel and adventure. In doing so, they may discover a newfound magnetism and allure, attracting others to their path towards self-discovery.

Lilith in the 10th: In the house of public career, Lilith exerts a strong influence on one's outward image and persona. When in public settings, you often see people being easily magnetized towards you. If Lilith is conjunct the Midheaven (MC), it can signify experiences of unwanted attention, including catcalling. There's a deep-seated fear of being seen, stemming from the difference between your public persona and true self-image. Overexposure to the public eye can lead to discomfort, particularly in career fields where others seem to dominate or overshadow you. There is a natural ability to exude sensuality that others find intriguing. They may develop a reputation for sensuality and allure, which can intimidate others, particularly men, due to the inherent power they radiate. Despite the fantasization, they may resent the objectification and sexualization. In professional settings their bosses may even attempt to take advantage of them. This placement can also indicate stage fright and social anxiety, causing them to prefer the sidelines rather than the spotlight. An unbalanced version of this placement would be sabotaging yourself when it comes to your career. Promoting bad behavior so that you can gain the upper advantage in situations. It's crucial for them to be vigilant against exploitation by authority figures and to properly navigate professional relationships and contracts. Despite potential misconceptions about their character, individuals with this placement must embrace their authenticity and prioritize their own career aspirations over societal expectations. Your that b*tch for real, and you cannot allow the public opinion of you to dictate who you are. Also, Lilith in the 10th house may signify a challenging relationship with their father, involving absence, mistreatment, or attempts at control. This further fuels aspirations to become a successful person, in order to prove their farther wrong. Embracing their power and authenticity is important for success and fulfillment in the professional world.

Lilith in the 11th: Friendships are never easy with Lilith in the 11th. Despite outward display of support, these individuals frequently encounter betrayal from those they consider close allies, discovering that supposed friends harbor secret animosity and ulterior motives towards them. Friends could make jokes about insecurities you have, while accusing you of being soft for finding offence. Your secrets are not the safest within your social networks, they are like blind items ready to spill all the tea about your personal life. This atmosphere of distrust can lead to a cautious approach to forming friendships, resulting in a preference for family and romantic relationships over the unpredictability of friendships. Despite these challenges, individuals with this placement often gravitate towards unconventional or marginalized groups of people. Finding companionship in the outcasts who defy societal norms. They may become strong advocates for the rights and liberation of marginalized groups, focusing on the need for women's rights and the empowerment of societal underdogs. So while friendships may be met with much difficulty, these individuals create meaningful connections with fellow non-conformists in society. Finding solidarity in their shared struggles, leading to finding community outside of Eden.

Lilith in the 12th: Individuals with Lilith in the 12th house tend to keep Lilith's energy to the depths of their subconscious mind. They are often unaware of its magnetic, rebellious, and sexually charged nature. May doubt their own sexuality and seductive capabilities, feeling overshadowed by others charm. However, when in solitude, Lilith emerges to confront them about their inner shadows and demons. This often leads to solitary battles with their deepest fears and insecurities. Sleep issues are common with this placement, as they may struggle to maintain a stable sleep routine. May prefer the quiet solitude of the night for introspection and self-discovery. In their dreams, they often confront scenarios designed to evoke feelings of inadequacy and shame, forcing them to confront their inner vulnerabilities. They can be drawn towards dream working, meditation, shifting and exploring unique ways to access their subconscious mind. By using the arts, they can transmute fears and underlying issues in their mind to a reservoir of creativity. You can often see their shadow portrayed boldly in their art. Also, these individuals are often empathetic and hold nonjudgmental view towards the shadows of other people. Overall, through uncovering their darkness, Lilith in the 12th house can lead to spiritual growth and artistic development when integrated unapologetically.

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Remember to look at the aspects to Lilith in your chart. Since it is an astrological point & asteroid, it doesn't hold as much significance compared to the planets. So aspects allow you to know how much of this energy can be brought up to the surface. Also, this reading is for all versions of Lilith in the chart.

-your Star Darling

(Portrait of Simonetta Vespucci, by Piero Di Cosimo)

[batsandbirdbrains]

I want to write a fic set during season one of yj where Batman gets hurt really bad on a mission with the JL and the team sees him rushed to mount justice for the med bay and Dick sees Bruce basically mangled and bloody and hears someone say they think his heart stopped and Dick panics

The one where Robin runs away to the circus

Robin had chased after them, trying to follow them in the med bay, shouting Batman, B wake up! B! until someone holds him back, and that’s when he hears someone say they think Batman’s heart has stopped.

And Dick freaks out. His ears start ringing and his mouth is dry and he’s suddenly terrified. Because he was only Bruce’s ward. Alfred has no real way to claim custody of him, and he refuses to go back to the juvie the city threw him into the first time he was orphaned.

So Dick runs. He books it back to the manor and packs a bag, and he’s crying the entire time, and Alfred is out so he can’t even say goodbye to him, but he leaves a note explaining as best he can, telling Alfred to call Clark for more answers.

And after a little research, he uses a zeta tube to get to Europe, then hitchhikes until he stumbles upon Haly’s Circus.

Jack Haly welcomes Dick back with open arms, telling him he always has a home with the circus. But Dick can’t go by his real name, can’t be a Flying Grayson just yet. There are a few people in the JL who know his and Bruce’s identities, and he can’t be found that quickly.

So he takes his mom’s old stage name, from before she became a Grayson: The Skydancer.

And he becomes a huge hit right away, performing acrobatics for the circus. Like he was always meant to. He realizes how much he missed it. How much he missed the other members of the circus.

The fortune teller who still insists on him calling her auntie puts feathers and tinsel in his hair, changing them out with each new stop the circus makes. She reads his tarot cards and his palms and helps him with his stage makeup, painting glitter across his eyes and helping him with his hair.

The strongman tosses him around until he laughs uncontrollably, then shows him how to cook dinners he hasn’t had in years.

There are several other members of the troupe who have been around since before Dick was even born, and they remember him, they welcome him back as if he’d never left.

Jack Haly is like a grandfather, and he checks in Dick every night, making sure he’s alright and letting Dick help him with some of the business aspects of the circus. It was something Dick’s father used to do. It’s something Dick knows from both his father and from Bruce, having spent the last few years watching Bruce go over various Wayne Enterprises accounts. He’s a whiz at it, and Jack tells him as much.

Then after a few months, the team shows up. A few JL members show up. They’d been in the audience, they’d watched the show, they’d seen The Skydancer performing with the same fluid movements of Robin, if the boy they’ve been searching for since he ran.

And after the show, once the rest of the audience has left, Dick is helping clean up the popcorn booths when he notices them lingering in the fringes of the circus grounds. The lights are twinkling and the smell of popcorn and peanuts and cotton candy are still wafting in the air, and Dick feels his chest tighten. Because he can’t go back. He won’t go back. Not without Bruce.

He darts away to find Jack, and once he’s near Mr. Haly’s train car, he starts shouting for him, calling him grandpa in French, his voice strained, and the door to the train car slams open, Jack standing firm as Dick hides behind him.

They’re speaking to each other in rapid French, Jack asking what happened, what’s wrong, are you alright and holding on to Dick’s arms tightly. Dick is shaking his head, his panic finally spilling over and bubbling up in the form of tears dripping down his face.

Don’t let them take me, please let me stay, please he begs, pressing himself close to Jack, hugging him tight. Don’t leave me behind again, please!

Jack holds him tight, and several other members of the troupe who heard Dick panicking are standing near the train car now, looking to where the JL members and the team are walking towards them.

But then Bruce Wayne steps forward. Just Bruce. And Dick feels his breath catch in his throat, and a strangled shriek leaving his mouth, and he hides behind Jack. Because Bruce is dead. He’s seeing a ghost. It’s not real it can’t be real he heard them say his heart stopped he saw his mangled body.

“Dick, please,” Bruce begs. “I know what you think you saw, chum, but please. I’m right here. I’m right here.”

“You died,” Dick says. “I saw it. Your heart stopped, they said so. You’re not real”

“My heart did stop,” Bruce says gently. “But they started it back up. I was very very hurt, but I didn’t die.”

Jack Haly has to speak with Dick for several minutes, his voice soft, gentle, until he beckons for Bruce to come over. And Dick looks Bruce over for a long moment, his hands hovering as if he wants to reach out but he’s afraid of what he might find, and then he launches himself at Bruce. Bruce catches him, holds him tight, whispers to him while Dick cries.

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Muña (Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: At the start of the Dance of the Dragons, you host a familiar face. But it is not your husband who darkens your doorstep. It is his nephew.

Warnings: Daemon haunting the narrative. Smut. Body image issues, self-esteem issues. Tully! Reader (Reddish undertone hair) Implied mommy issues. Vaginal sex. Breeding kink

A/N: I got no explanation for this. Might end up writing a part 2 if this does well. Pt 2

“THERE IS a dragon at our gates.” One of your guards announces. You get up from your seat, a wave of nausea already beginning to make herself known. You would rather not face your husband. Not today. Not ever, if you are being truthful with yourself.

You have gained weight. The slim figure that you flaunted at sixteen is long gone. There is more weight in your hips and chest, a bit of softness around your middle. You know he will mock you for it.

“Open them.” You order, bracing yourself for the uncomfortable encounter. You can’t bar him entrance to what is his home too, despite him not visiting in years. “Tell him to leave the dragon there. I’ll send it some food.”

The guard bows and exits the room. One of your companions, Lady Whent, starts to pace the hall. She fears what your husband coming here might mean for you. The rumors said he had loudly proclaimed he would deal with you himself.

Your choice to keep the Riverlands out of the war effort is controversial, but predictable. Surely, no one in their right mind thought you would aid your husband install his Queen. Not even him. Not after he had left your shared home and started living in sin with her, shaming you in front of the whole realm. Yet again, no one would have called Daemon Targaryen the epitome of saneness.

You go sit on your throne, placing your embroidery aside. Your tenants are happy enough that you don’t hold court as often as the other lords. And when they are not, they still refuse to bring their problems to you unless absolutely necessary. No one wants to burden their poor lady more.

You wish they did. The days would seem less empty that way, rotting away in this castle, your house’s sigil mocking you from every corner. Family, Duty, Honor, they had promised you. None had come.

The guard comes back. You remain sitting on your throne, the one you hardly use. You intend to receive your husband from a position of power, not allow him to cower you. But when you look at the man next to the guard, your breath catches.

This man is not your husband. This man is not even one of Rhaenyra’s men.

“Lady Tully.” He says, taking a deep bow. Very respectful, which would make you doubt his relation to your husband were it not for the fact he shares his silver hair.

“Prince… Aemond.” You say, looking at his face. It’s your best guess as to his identity, considering he has a green banner and an eye patch. He wears all black, the color of House Targaryen. You stand up, and curtsy.

“My lady.”

“My husband is not here.” You say, hurriedly. It’s your first instinct. You do not want that dragon of his torching your tenants.“You are welcome to check the castle and my lands, but there is no love lost between us. I assure you I am not hiding him.”

“I know.” He answers, lips twitching into a smirk. You find nothing humorous about it, but you do not dare voice it. You do not understand what he is doing here, if not chasing after Daemon. “I understand your people… Resent him.”

“It is not our place to judge.” You say, voice firm. This man is at least ten years your junior, you will not allow him to intimidate you. No matter how he towers over you, no matter how menacing and mean his features seem. He is no Daemon Targaryen, this green boy. Your husband is the only man you had truly feared. “Only the Seven are perfect, and thus, entitled to judge others' actions.”

“Very devout.” Aemond steps closer to you, his smile widening. The way his face contorts, sharp and with too many teeth, reminds you of one of the piscivorous fishes you have seen swimming up the stream during summer. The look in their eyes is the same he sports now, right before they decide to feast on an unaware trout. “Just like us. Seems like we have a lot in common.”

You gulp. You wish you were less easy to intimidate.

“We do?”

“We do. I don’t like your husband either. The tales of his prowess have been overly exaggerated. And I do not think you are too keen on bowing to Rhaenyra, considering your marriage will be annulled.” A pair of his fingers pluck a stray curl from your up do, twirling it between his fingers. The slightly copperish undertones of it glint under the candlelight.

The threat looms in the air, uncontested by you. Both Prince Aemond and you know that Queen Rhaenyra would be dissolving your marriage as you speak, were it not for the fact that your husband and her need your lands and men for her war. Annulment in exchange for your life would be a much less cruel punishment than whatever they are cooking.

If you were a quieter woman, a less brave one, you would accept your fate. You would say your marriage had been unconsummated, that you will aid your new sovereign and your ex-husband in their war. But you won’t leave your people to their tender care. With the privileged position your lands have, they are also in the privileged position to be amongst the first to burn.

You are not so craven as to save your life in exchange for the ones of your subjects. Hence, neutrality. Hoping it will spare you. All of you.

“Do you think I want to still be married to him? After all this?” It is not enough, you see it now. With the green banner inside your hall, with the one eyed prince himself sent to rally you behind their cause. Neutrality won’t save you. You need to resist Daemon, not just sit praying he won’t attack you. The Seven know he has no such qualms.

“Perhaps we can make a widow out of you yet.” Aemond says to you, a hint of a smile making his expression turn even more menacing.

Tasting freedom on the tip of your tongue for the first time in years, you smile back.

YOU ARE on your side, Aemond thrusting into you from behind. His hand envelops your hip, greedily grasping your flesh. His other arm is under your head, serving as a pillow. For once, you are not self-conscious.

How could you be, when he had practically begged for entrance to your bed? He wanted you, and the thought of that was as thrilling as it was foreign. You hadn't broken your marriage vows ever since you took them. No man had dared voice interest, considering who your husband was.

Aemond had to convince you to get you here, and you had fumbled like a maiden every step of the way. You didn’t dare defy Daemon either. Despite your loneliness over the years, you had never taken another to your bed. No matter how tempted you had been.

When you had seen Aemond, you weren’t planning to, either. He was your good nephew, Daemon’s family. It was utterly scandalous, yet here you were.

You weren’t too sure how you had ended up into this predicament, though. One second the two of you had been making plans, your Lord Commander eager to be at his service, and the next, Aemond was crowding you against a wall and kissing you with unparalleled hunger. Your doubts had been quieted by his warm hands and eager mouth, as he forced you to writhe on his arms and try to divest him of his clothes. Perhaps he had carried you to your room then. You can’t remember, you just hope no one saw you.

“Did he fuck you like this?” He mouths at your ear, lightly biting. No matter how much you want to banish the thought of Daemon from your mind, Aemond doesn’t let you. It makes you feel guilty, breaking your self-imposed celibacy with your nephew in law, but he seems to get a secret thrill from it.

You don’t have the heart to tell him Daemon and you have only gone to bed together once. The night of your wedding.

You stay silent. His hand slides over your stomach, down to your mound. A single, long finger, slips through your folds and starts to rub circles on your pearl.

“Did my uncle ever make you peak?” Aemond asks you, still rubbing those maddening circles. You can’t think. All that is on your mind is a cloud of pleasure, warm and shameful. You shouldn’t be in bed with Daemon’s nephew. Nor should you be breaking your vows.

Aemond bites at your nape, sharply. Just like his uncle, he doesn’t take kindly to not being the center of attention.

“I asked you a question.”

“No.” You tell him, closing your eyes. Your face burns with your shame. Perhaps it is the embarrassment at your husband hating your bed so much he never visited It any longer, or perhaps it is the fact that you are breaking a vow you had really believed in. But Aemond doesn’t seem to like it, pressing soft kisses into your shoulder in an attempt to relax you.

“I'll give you one.” He promises, rubbing your pearl. His thrusting slows down, allowing the head of his member to hit deep inside you. “In my bed, you won't want for anything.”

The way he says it startles you. Dark, possessive. As if he doesn’t intend to let you go after one night, as if he intends to keep you.

“I don't belong in your bed.” You moan, trying to resist the pleasure that seems so sinful in your eyes. You clench around him despite it, not wanting him to leave your body. His free hand, the one serving as your pillow, grabs at your hair, the auburn mane as a bracelet in his pale arm. The pain of the tug only heightens your pleasure, making your body soar above the wave that threatens to crash and drag you under on the pools of hedonism.

Never before had you felt like this. In your encounter with your husband, as he huffed and puffed over you, you had only felt a quick pain and a vague feeling of shame. He had focused on his pleasure first, kicking you out of bed as soon as he was done.

But Aemond. Aemond stares at you, proud of how you unravel in his arms. He encourages you to do it, taking great delight in watching you fall apart.

“You do. With your gorgeous hair and your delicious cunt, I won't allow you to go elsewhere. You are a gift from the Mother herself.” He whispers, darkly. “I’ll worship you how you deserve, Muña.”

The last word seems to amuse him greatly, for it prompts a chuckle out of him. It’s an odd sound to hear coming from him. He seemed the kind who took himself too seriously. He licks at the shell of your ear, at your face, slobbering all over you.

It should disgust you, yet you can’t help but sigh in his arms. Surrender tastes cloyingly sweet in your mouth.

“I… Married.” You repeat, trying to get Aemond to see reason. You claw at his hands, trying to stop him from bringing you this overwhelming ecstasy that makes your body tense, and your thighs quiver. Your mind feels foggy, your wit reduced to half whimpers and softly spoken words.

“I'll wed you, and place my son on your belly.” He grins against your nape, contemplating his final triumph against Daemon. “My seed will take, where his never could. He is weak.”

“I am already married.” You repeat, a bit more firmly. Aemond laughs, rubbing at your pearl once more.

“Shhh, quiet. Quiet, Muña.” He whispers, pulling you to lie under him. He enters you in a single thrust, not giving you a moment of respite. You cry out, nails raking down his back. “I'll kill him. He is just an old man.”

You mutter something. Maybe a reply. Your lips move, incoherent, and you are screaming, the wave of pleasure finally crashing and pulling you under.

“That’s a good aunt. Squeeze your tight little cunt for me.” He grins, and you think this is it. The two of you are going to the Seven Hells.

[lou-struck]

A Miya Mix-up

Osamu Miya x reader

~ After months of watching you pine over the cute delivery guy, your coworker decided to put an end to it by slipping him your number. 

W.C: 3.4k

a/n: my best friend actually works with a set of identical twins and after a little miscommunication, inspired this fic. Although she will never read this, I would like you guys to know that she told me to write this.

Multitasking is hard.

How are you supposed to get any work done while also watching the door?

All right, maybe you don’t need to be watching the front door of your Workplace. But it’s not like it’s hurting anyone, you’re just waiting for a delivery.

“What are you doing?”

“ Working,” you drone, turning in your swivel chair to face your friend and coworker.

They smile knowingly as their gaze zeroes in on something behind you. “Oh yeah? So is that why your finger has been on the spacebar for what looks like three pages?”

You snort in disbelief, “Nice try, but I’m not falling for that one. Again.”

When their gaze remains firm as they gesture to your screen, and just to appease them, you decide to prove that they are… Absolutely right

“Ugh crap.” You mutter in embarrassment, frantically using your trackpad to highlight all the unwanted spaces from the official document you were supposed to be working on. The screen returns to normal as you flash a guilty smile up at them. “Thanks for catching that, I guess I was a bit distracted.”

“Let me guess, you ordered Onigiri for lunch again?” They laugh. Your cheeks warm as you avert your gaze from the confident woman in front of you.

“I-it's a local business,” you sputter defensively. “ it’s close, it’s affordable, and~”

“And the owner is super hot,” they finish, calling you out like the lovestruck fool you are.

The sigh that leaves your lips is heavy with defeat. “That too, you know me too well.” 

Ever since Onigiri Miya opened up down the street, you haven't been able to get him out of your mind. There is just something about Osamu Miya, the owner and head chef that has you crushing like a highschooler all over again. 

“You know he might not be the one doing the delivery today. After all, he’s the one cooking all the food.” Although their intention isn’t to crush your hopes and dreams, it certainly feels like it. 

“I was being optimistic.” you say with a smile “Either way the food is great and it’s not super pricey.”

Their attention is grabbed by something on your face as their brow furrows. “Were you eating a granola bar or something earlier today?”

“Yeah, just a while ago, why?”

They tap at their front tooth with an acrylic nail. “You got a little something right there.” 

“Thanks for that,” you say wiping your teeth with a clean handkerchief. Something about finding a friend who won’t hesitate to tell you about food in your teeth or toilet paper stuck to the bottom of your shoe is heartwarming. You flash your teeth again and look at them expectantly. “Did I get it?”

They shake their head. “No, actually I think you made it worse. I would go take care of that before Hottie McRiceball comes with your special delivery.” Their tone is softened by good-natured teasing, but you still find yourself on the verge of laughter.

Playfully, you roll your eyes as you quickly stand from your desk. “We never agreed on that name and you know it.”

“Worth a shot,” they shrug as you scurry away to rinse your mouth out with some water.

~

“I didn't know ya still went out on deliveries Samu,” Atsumu Miya says as his brother takes a completed ticket off the countertop and boxes it up to go himself. “Don’t ya have people for that?”

“This is a special occasion.” The grey-haired twin replies. There is an uncharacteristically soft smile on his face as he packages the food with Michelin-level care. 

Immediately interested, the setter reaches for the ticket on the countertop, but it is snatched away quickly. “Oh come on Samu, I’m just trying to see who it’s for.” He says innocently.

“You don’t need to see.” His brother glares, “It’s just going to one of the offices down the street. I’ll run it down there real quick and be back in 10.” Just as the words leave his mouth, a loud crash can be heard from the dining room, both men’s heads turned on a dime as they rushed towards the sound. 

For arms push open the swinging double doors as they stumble across a heartbreaking site. Rice and fillings are scattered like rails over the ground as a frantic server tries to pick up what is left of the serving plate plates. The tipped-over stool sprawled out next to them tells Osamu everything he needs to know. 

And now, he has to remake this order on the fly.

Atsumu watches his brother frown as a deep, tortured sigh flies from his lungs .“I gotta go take care of this.” He casts one last wistful look at the completed mystery order before turning his attention to the mess in front of him. 

With his brother distracted, Atsumu, ever the helper,  decides to help his brother out and take care of the special delivery. 

After all, he has done more than his fair share of deliveries before when his brother was just starting out so just down the street would be a piece of cake. Eagerly, he takes the paper bag of food off the stainless steel countertop and walks back into the dining room. 

Passing his brother as he walks back inside. When he sees the bag, his eyes widen and he holds out an arm. “What are ya doing with that?”

“Helpin' ya out,” he grins, “There is no way you’ll be able to deliver this food before it gets cold. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

With that, he turns and strides away before his brother can object. Pushing open the front doors, he steps out into the moist spring air and takes a deep breath.

Looking down at the bag he spots the delivery ticket taped to the side. Gently, he lifts the ticket, reading the name and address. 

Now that he has started down this path, he’s not gonna stop until he figures out who exactly y/n is, and his brother wanted to see them so badly. 

~

After checking your teeth in the bathroom mirror for the tenth time, you find yourself back at your desk twiddling your thumbs as you wait for your lunch delivery. The clip-on desk fan above your monitor hums on full blast to hide the sound of your growling stomach. 

A familiar figure clad in a black t-shirt enters through the sliding doors and your heart skips a beat. But instead of heading to your office space like he usually does, Osamu goes to the front desk to talk to the receptionist. 

“Hey there, I have a delivery for a y/n.” you hear him say, despite walking right to your desk the last time you placed an order.

You struggle to hide your pout as he is pointed over to your direction. But as he gets closer, you begin to see that something is different about him. 

The man walking toward you does not have the same a different physique. He is pointed in your direction and as he gets closer you realize that something is off. 

Osamu is definitely a fit man, but this guy looks like he lives in the gym, the black Onigiri Miya t-shirt he is wearing seems to be struggling to contain his large arms and toned pecs. It isn't until you see the tuft of blonde hair poking out from under his cap that you realize that this must be his brother he mentioned in passing, the professional volleyball player. 

“His brown eyes light up when he sees you as if he is putting the pieces of a puzzle together, “y/n?”

“That’s me,” you smile, eyeing the food in the setter's hand. “You must be the brother?”

“What? Brother? Nah I just met the guy this mornin’,” he jokes, pulling an easy laugh from you. And you decide right then and there that although he isn't the man you have feelings for, Atsumu Miya is pretty cool. 

But he isn't Osamu

“I didn’t know you worked at the restaurant too,” you ask, hoping to pry some more information from the athlete before he has to leave. 

He sets the take-out bag on your desk, “I help him out sometimes when things get busy. Samu had his hands full today.”

“Oh,” you say simply, trying your best to hide your disappointment, but judging by the way this man is practically looking through you, you are doing a very poor job of it.

A pinging on your screen saves you from the awkward silence. Two sets of eyes flicker to the monitor to see a desperate plea from your coworker on the second floor asking for clarification on an email you sent him earlier. 

“Duty calls?” he asks knowingly. 

“It looks like it,” you answer, casting a longing glance at the lunch you won't get to eat until later. “It was nice meeting you though, maybe I’ll see you around.

He smiles like a jackal. Thoughtful humor aglow in his gaze as he nods. “You’ll definitely be seein me an Samu soon.”

As Atsumu turns and walks away, the little nickname for Osamu he used sends a happy shiver down your spine as your mind drifts to the happy daydream of one day being close enough with the man to use it. 

So lost in the moment, you fail to notice a friendly face intercepting the volleyball-playing delivery boy with a small piece of paper. 

~

For the first time in an hour, Osamu is able to take a calm breath. The spice-fragrant air is warm from the grill and tingles his nose but he is thankful for the peace. Between the influx of to-go orders and the dropped tray in the dining room, he hadn't had a moment to think about anything other than the mountain of tickets he had to climb. 

Until his brother comes through the back door, his presence reminding the Chef what he missed out on today. 

Seeing You.

The joy of getting to make that special delivery is easily the highlight of his week, a highlight that his brother experienced instead of him.  But instead of the triumphant grin he was expecting to see on his face, he finds guilt. 

“What’s with yer face?” he asks nonchalantly. 

“What? Nothin’ Atsumu says flashing a wobbly grin, he has always had a shitty poker face and slides his right hand behind his back. 

“Then what are you hiding?” He steps closer.

“Nothin,” Atsumu says again, taking a defensive step back. 

Not fallin' for that,” He says, lunging for his brother's arm. Both men begin to wrestle childishly. It’s back and forth until Osamu manages to pry a small piece of paper from his twin's sweaty palm. 

“Wait, Samu. Don’t” Atsumu says, but it’s too late. The black ink is smudged, but he can clearly make out the lettering. 

It’s your name and phone number.

“H-how did ya get this?” Osamu blinks, looking over at his brother as he imagines your earlier interaction with his twin. His brother, the professional volleyball player with thousands of fans cheering him on every game, has managed to do in ten minutes what he has been trying to work up the courage to do for months. 

Charm you. 

Atsumu at least has the decency to look ashamed as he casts his eyes to the floor. “Their coworker gave it to me.”

“Why would they do that?”

“They…uhh.” he pauses and shoves his hands into his pockets. “They said that we have a connection and they don’t like the slow-burn romantic subplots.”

“Romantic what-plots?” Osamu blinks, still trying to figure out what the hell is happening to him. “Nevermind that, do you like them?

“Do you?”

“I-i,’ he crosses his arms. “I asked you first.”

“I don’t know,” Atsumu admits, ‘y/n is nice and all but I talked to them for like a second. But you~”

This torturous conversation is thankfully interrupted by a rapid influx of tickets for to-go orders. His heart feels as if it is being ripped from his chest, but he walks away. "We'll talk about this later, I have to get back to work.”

“But Samu, I~”

“I don’t have time for this right now,” he says, raising his voice. He reaches into his bowl of peeled and prepped garlic only to find it empty. Turning on a dime he storms into the walk-in and lets the door shut behind him. 

Now alone with the produce, he takes a moment to close his eyes, allowing the fan to cool his overheated face as he imagines his brother making you laugh with one of his stupid jokes.

If he was the one to do the delivery would things be different?

~

Three Days Later…

Your stomach roars as you take your lunch box from the breakroom fridge and place it on the nearest table. A late client delayed your lunch break and has you on the verge of hangriness. You are just about to unzip and dig in when your work friend practically skips inside, with a pleased smile on your face. In a flash, they snatch your uneaten lunchbox from the table and place it back in the fridge. 

“Hey, I was gonna eat that,” you whine. 

“Not now,” they smile. “I took the liberty of ordering us lunch from your future boyfriend's restaurant.”

“Wait, really?” you say surprised by the gesture. “You ordered me lunch?”

“Yes, But I used your name to place the order so we would get the best food.” they laugh, but there is something in their tone that tells you they are hiding something. 

“I’m sure that it would taste the same if you ordered,” you chuckle. “When will it get here?”

“Any minute now. Buttt while we wait, how about we have a little chat?”

“About what?”

They flutter their lashes and smile. “Have you gotten any important calls lately?”

“Lately?” you ask, thinking of the dozens of phone calls you have had to make today. “I’ve been on the phone all morning.”

“No, I’m talking about the cute chef guy. You know, Hottie McRiceball.”

“I never agreed to that nickname~” You start to protest but cut yourself off. “Why would he call me?”

“Because I gave him your number.”

Your mouth goes dry. “Why would you do that?

“I did it because I knew you wouldn't,” they grin, “Look you guys clearly like each other and I’m just helping you guys along. So when you get married I can give a speech at the wedding.”

“There probably won't be a wedding,” you frown. “He hasn't called me.”

Their eyes widen in disbelief. “He hasn't? But I gave it to him three days ago when he came here.”

You stop in your tracks, “wait… what? You gave it to him three days ago? When I ordered lunch from there?”

“Yeah, I slipped him your number on the way out.” They point to the doors and look so proud. Completely unaware of their mistake. When they notice the panic on your face, their brow furrows. “What’s wrong?”

Your stomach does backflips as you nervously pace through the hallway. If Osamu thinks that you like his brother, you will have no chance with him going forward. “That wasn’t him.”

“Wait, what do you mean that wasn't him?” they call, following you through the office to the lobby. 

“It was his~” Your words die as you see a familiar head of grey hair standing at the front desk. Dark eyes meet yours and you are rendered immobile from the weight of the sorrow within them. Your stomach thrashes around, and you find yourself no longer hungry. 

He knows.

He blinks, shaking off your gaze as he turns on a dime and starts to walk towards the door, away from you without so much as a hello. Your body moves on its own while your brain is still held captive by your feelings. 

The chilly afternoon wind sends a cascade of goosebumps down your arms as you briefly regret leaving your coat draped over the back of your chair. He retreats quickly despite your less-than-quiet movements behind him. 

“Wait,” you call. “Just stop for a second.”

“We’re short-staffed today,” he says faintly, still moving away from you. “I have to get back.” 

“Please, just for a minute.” 

To your surprise, the tall man comes to a halt. His shoulders rigid as he turns to face you, his feet still facing his restaurant as if he would rather be anywhere else at the moment. Although you managed to stop him, you have no idea how long you have to explain the situation without making a complete fool of yourself. 

Balling your fists for courage, you take a deep breath. “I just wanted to tell you that what happened the other day was a complete~”

“M’ happy for you,” he says, his tone stiff as he gives you a thin smile. Almost as if he is trying to force himself to believe the words coming out of his mouth. “ I really am, but I was just surprised, I didn’t think you and Tsumu would hit it off like ya did.”

“He was nice,” you say carefully. “But I really only talked to him for a second.”

“That long? Must be pretty serious then.” he chuckles. Sending you a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. “Anyways, I should get back to work.”

Your hand moves on his own accord and grabs his shoulder. Just a little touch is all it takes to send a jolt through your skin and the two of you are frozen in place. “It was a mistake,” you say quickly. “My friend thought she was giving my number to you, not your brother.”

“What?”

“I-it was a mistake,” you with balled fists. The discomfort of your nails pressing into your palm gives you the courage to confess. “She knew that I was too nervous to make a move on my own so she thought maybe she could help.”

He stares at you for a moment, lips slightly parted as he processes your words. Meanwhile, a sickening concoction of fear and apprehension mash together in your throat. Never in your most hyper-realistic nightmares did you imagine frantically confessing to your crush like this. 

Frankly, you feel like shit. 

Even more so when the man you just confessed to lets out a laugh. 

Your cheeks burn with rejection as you cross your arms. “You know, A simple no would have worked,” you mutter. 

“No. God. Sorry. It’s not that.” he says quickly, realizing what you are thinking. “Definitely into ya. I was just actin' like a jerk because I’ve been tryin' to ask you out myself for weeks. I thought that in the ten minutes he spent with ya, Tsumu beat me to it.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you feel as if you have just won the lottery “Wait, really? You like me too?

His cheeks darken and he rubs the back of his flushed neck. Well yeah, I don’t really make any other deliveries. I was worried I was being too obvious about it.”

“Not at all. I thought you were just being neighborly,” you murmur, suddenly feeling as if there are dozens of eyes staring at the back of your head. Glancing back you see the not-so-subtle faces of your coworkers pressed up against the glass window, watching this entire exchange. 

Apparently, the only one unaware of the chef’s feelings for you in your office was you.

He laughs, for real this time showing his teeth. The familiar sound makes your heart feel as mushy as playdough. “Honestly, I realized that you could’ve ordered from the other side of the city and I still would’ve came up with some excuse to bring it to ya.”

“And I would’ve thought you had excellent customer service.” you chuckle, internally cursing your own obliviousness. “So in a way, this little mix-up saved us some time.”

His eyes sparkle with amusement as he takes your hand. His warm, calloused fingers just fit with yours and you have never felt more alive. “I like that there is an ‘us’ now.” 

“Me too,” you admit. And although the two of you now have to navigate this new relationship of yours, you know you have a hell of a lot of people to thank for setting things in motion.

Tagging: @pixelcafe-network @sleepyyshroom, @isaacdaknight @qardasngan

[declareqenius]

some would sing and some would scream

summary: your girlfriends are two of the best mob bosses in the city. you and natasha were out for a nightly walk, both feeling restless as you awaited wanda’s return from a business trip. it was going well, until someone got the jump on both of you. 

pairings: WandaNat x Reader

warnings: blood, violence, knives, being tied up, stabbing, passing out

a/n: hey guys! here’s another one. i have no idea how mobs work, which is probably a good thing, but i hope it makes enough sense. second part, anyone? let me know what you think! wanda is barely here but is mentioned throughout. 

Part 1 | Part 2 

It’s been days since you and Natasha have seen Wanda. Days, maybe a week, since you were both taken by the henchmen of an enemy family; the Celestials. They have nerve, you’ll give them that, but you know as soon as Wanda and the rest of your family finds your location, they won’t know what hit them. 

The metal chair is cold against your legs and the restraints around your wrists are digging uncomfortably into your skin. You know the more you struggle, the worse it will be, but you need to at least try. There are cuts on either cheek and one gash on your thigh- which is exposed because you decided to wear shorts that fated day. You started regretting your decision yesterday because they kept their torture room freezing, and although you reside in New York, the cold has never been- and never will be- your friend. 

Natasha sits next you in a chair identical to yours. Her restraints are different, though, and it’s obvious the Celestials know how big of a threat she is. She’s continuously struggled to get out of them and your heart pangs in your chest because part of you knows it’s because she hates seeing you hurt. 

Your girlfriend is safe from cuts and gashes and it’s all due to them wanting to get under her skin. They know of the relationship you share with the two powerful mob leaders, and they’re trying to use it to their advantage. 

Natasha doesn’t break easily. Neither does Wanda. Everyone knows this, including you, but Nat barely lasted ten minutes when Najma- the leader of the Celestials- started dragging the knife across your thigh. She begged her to take her instead, but Najma was quick to assure that any torture you faced would be dragged out. 

“Nat. Stop. You’re going to hurt yourself if you keep struggling.” Your firm voice cuts through the thick silence and leaves no room for argument. You’d stopped struggling five minutes ago when you realized it wouldn’t help, but Natasha kept it up and the redness around her wrists started to worry you. 

“I need to get out before they come in again. Need to get you untied.” Her voice is gravelly and preoccupied, and her plight is obvious. The only thoughts swarming her head are about getting you out of there unharmed. 

“And then what? You fight them off with nothing and we die trying to escape? We leave Wanda alone? She’ll never forgive us for that. We have to think about this, Natasha.” 

You’re honestly surprised how calm you were, considering the situation. But you know Wanda is on a murderous rampage and Natasha is going through anger induced anxiety at the mere thought of either of you not making it out of this, so you’re left being the reasonable one. 

“I am thinking about this, Y/N!” 

Her chair clangs to a halt as she stops struggling with a frustrated huff. You know that if the two of you weren’t in the hands of your family’s greatest rival, then your girlfriend would let her tears flow free. The only sign that she had any intent of crying before she remembered where you were was her red nose. 

“I’m thinking about it,” she says defeatedly, yet firmly. “Najma is going to come back any minute and she is going to harm you in unimaginable ways and I can’t stop her because I’m tied to this stupid fucking chair.” 

“Natty,” you say softly, “look at me, please?” 

God, you wish you could reach out and touch her. It takes a moment for her to find some semblance of composure so she can look you in the eyes instead of staring guiltily at the gash in your thigh. 

“Listen to me, okay? I need you to hear me,” you start, waiting until Natasha subtly nods her head to continue, “You aren’t going to tell them anything. No matter what they do to me-” 

“But-” 

“No. Listen. Whatever they do to me, I need you to grin and bear it until Wanda gets here or you have a secure plan to get us out. It’s going to be painful for both of us, but I’m a big girl, I can handle it, okay?” 

“Detka, I don’t know if I can-” 

“Natalia. I knew what I was getting into the moment you and Wanda told me what you did for a living. I knew it would happen eventually. There’s only so much protecting my knights in shining fedoras,” you give her a gentle grin at your joke, “can do. I need you to promise me. No matter how much pain I’m in. We need to wait it out. That’s all we can do right now, my love.” 

Natasha looks like she desperately wants to argue again, but you both know she’s only got so much fight left and she needs to save it for when Najma comes back. You try not to imagine what the leader of the Celestials has in store for you; which ways your body will be bloodied and scarred, but it’s hard when Natasha’s brain is going a mile a minute and the blood from the gash on your leg won’t stop dripping down your thigh. 

“Do you remember our very first date?” You ask, a small smile on your face as you look up at your girlfriend. 

“Malysh-” 

“Nat, please. I can’t sit in silence.” 

She sighs and looks away for a moment. To compose herself. You fear that sentence nearly sent her over the edge, but a moment later she nods. 

“Like it was yesterday. Wands and I had thirty minutes to clean ourselves up after having gotten back from taking care of something. We were so worried we were going to be late, and so we texted you that work held us up for longer than we anticipated. You were so patient with us. You still are so patient with us.” 

“Have to be with you two. Who knows what kind of trouble you got into when it was just the both of you parading around. Someone has to keep you in check, make sure you have something, someone to come home to. Both of you.” 

“And we cherish every moment we get to spend with you, detka.” 

Natasha says it so sincerely and it pushes you over the edge. Your eyes start watering and while it’s not a full-on sob, your tears do fall because you know where Natasha’s mind has gone. Where it has been this entire time. 

Then, it feels as if all the air in the room is sucked out. All the love you felt from Natasha moments ago is gone when you see her face switch to one you had only seen a handful of times. Your girlfriends try to keep you out of the business as much as they can, but you were still privy to some things. Natasha’s expression looked distant and blank, and you hear clapping from the far right corner of the room. 

Your heart sinks to your stomach, but you keep your features neutral. 

Najma. 

“Aw, how sweet. Quite a show you both put on. If this were reality television, my family would be rooting for you. Little lovebirds. It’s a shame your other girlfriend isn’t here. I’m sure it would spice things up.” 

“If she were here, you would be dead already,” you snark. 

“Dorogoy-” Natasha starts in warning, but Najma is quick to cut her off. 

“It’s okay, Ms. Romanova. She won’t be able to... joke around much once I’m done with her. I must say, I have been quite lenient and I am a sucker for a love story, but I fear it is time to get some answers. So, every time you refuse to answer one of my questions, your little girlfriend here will endure some kind of pain. Haven’t decided yet. Won’t decide until that moment. Whatever feels right, I suppose. Nod to let me know you understand.” 

Natasha nods. 

Your eyes bore holes into the side of her head and you hope she hears your pleas. Your reminders. 

“Good. We’ll start off easy, then.” Najma takes her knife out of her boot and slowly walks over to you. She places the tip on your upper arm. The way she’s looking at you, as if you were a turkey to be carved instead of eaten and enjoyed, chills you to the bone. 

“What is your name?” Najma directs the question towards Natasha. 

“Natasha Romanova-Maximoff.” 

“Hm. That’ll do. What is your wife’s name?” 

“Wanda Romanova-Maximoff.” 

These were all answers that Najma knew already, and you’re unsure of why she’s wasting time. Not that you’re complaining. The more time she takes to interrogate Natasha, the more time Wanda has to find you both. The only name Najma shouldn’t know is yours. Natasha hasn’t once used it since you’ve been kidnapped, and you figure it’s for a reason. Your only family is the one you were welcomed into when you officially became Wanda and Natasha’s girlfriend, but your name not being out there kept you safer. 

“And what is your girlfriend’s name?” 

There it is. 

You glance at Natasha, fully aware of the knife on your arm but deeming it safe enough to move the slightest amount. Natasha’s eyes catch yours and you don’t have to plead with her this time. Her decision was made the moment her green eyes met your own. 

Keeping your name a secret gives both of you a better chance when Wanda breaks the both of you out of this place. 

So, when Natasha moves her eyes from yours to look at Najma, you prepare yourself for the pain. 

The redhead doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t need to. Najma knows it isn’t a question she’s going to answer simply by the blank determination written across her face. 

“Very well then,” the Celestial leader says, bored as she drags the knife slowly across your upper arm. 

You stare at Natasha the entire time. 

Natasha stares at your arm, and you know it is her way of punishing herself. 

As if being locked in a freezing room with no way out wasn’t punishment enough. Your girlfriend forces herself to watch as one of her foes marks your body with their knife. Their torture. 

It makes her angry and she clenches both her jaw and her fists to keep herself from pulling on the restraints, having learned her lesson twenty minutes earlier. 

Wanda will never let her live this down. 

You’re glad it’s not Wanda with you. She would have been able to kill everyone by now, but if they had put special cuffs on her and made her watch as they tortured you, you know she would have given everything up to ensure you lived. 

You appreciate how much your girls love you, but the family wouldn’t have been able to take that kind of hit. So, you’re glad it’s Natasha who is with you, and maybe you’ll get the chance to reiterate that to Wanda someday soon. It will surely keep them from biting each other’s heads off while you’re recovering. 

“Next question.” 

You can hear the Cheshire Cat-like grin Najma wore as she placed the knife in a different spot on your body. This time, your thigh, about two inches higher than the first gash she gave you. 

“Where is the Mind stone?” 

Again, Natasha doesn’t answer and you audibly keel over in pain when the knife creates an identical gash to the one that came before it. 

Again, Natasha watched the knife slide across your thigh. 

“Hard eggs to crack, but I have only just begun.” 

Now, Najma is in front of you and you barely have enough time to process the cool metal of the knife being dragged down your face. Your breathing is heavy, but you muster the most spiteful expression you can. 

“I would really hate to see this beautiful face marred, Natasha. It would be such a shame. She could pose for those magazines. I hear it is great work, but enough small talk. Maybe I won’t have to mar your beautiful face, my little paaltoo.”

You decide then that you only like Urdu when Kamala speaks it. 

“All Natasha has to do is give me the location of the Mind stone and your pretty little face will go unmarked. Don’t worry, it will only hurt a little bit. It’s more of a... reminder for your lovers.” 

Even if your girlfriend’s face remains neutral, you can tell she’s seething on the inside. You glance at her for a moment and you know that you need to stall more. Enough for Wanda to find both of you. Nat can’t do anything but not answer Najma’s questions, and eventually Najma will tire of the game she’s playing. Who knows what that would look like? You doubt she would kill you quickly and undermine the work she’s already done on you, but if Najma doesn’t have something to quell her violent hunger, you don’t know what will happen to you or Natasha. 

So, you have to keep Najma entertained. Interested. Piece of cake. 

When you know that her focus is on Natasha’s expression and not your “pretty little face”, you send a guilty look to your girlfriend. Better to ask for forgiveness later. Then, you muster up all your courage and remember all the times you’ve seen Wanda and Natasha interrogate people, and you speak.

“What makes you think Natasha will talk? You’ve gotten this far and she hasn’t said a word. Maybe she doesn’t care about me as much as you think she does.”

“Mm, you’re not going to get me that easy my little paaltoo, I hear how she speaks to you. How she looks at you. And how she seethes every time my blade runs across your delicate skin. The love this woman holds for you is insurmountable. Don’t think me a fool.” 

“You picked the wrong one.” 

“Excuse me?” 

Blood runs down the side of your arm and thigh and you’ve long forgotten how to feel the searing pain. 

“The wrong girlfriend. You should’ve picked Wanda. Natasha is tough to crack but she’s been through a lot. Wanda, though? Wanda has a heart of gold and the sight of me in danger would have had her spilling all of her secrets. Or it would have sent her on a murderous rampage and we’d be out of here already, but you never know. All I’m saying is that Wanda would have given you so much more than Natasha ever will.” 

Your nonchalance must have been jarring to both the women in the room, and you’re certain that Yelena, your best friend, would have been proud of you. 

“I’m holding a knife to your face and you have the audacity to judge my methods?” 

Najma pierces your skin with the point of the blade and it almost makes you laugh. 

“What are you going to do? Kill me? You would lose leverage over Wanda and Natasha. You wouldn’t give that up so easily.” 

“And what makes you think I couldn’t find something else they hold dear to them?” 

“You would be searching for the rest of your life.” 

It’s a big statement. Words that probably hold a lot more weight than anything you have ever said before, but you’re aware of what you mean to your girlfriends. How all of you balance each other out in ways that no one expects upon first meeting the three of you. In fact, you’re so certain of your feelings for them and vice versa, that if you make it out of this alive, then you’re going to propose to them. 

Wanda would absolutely kill Natasha if you didn’t make it out of this alive. Guilt would eat both of them up, but better one of you makes it out than neither of you. 

Another slash of the knife on your cheek and you can feel the sting of the blade as Najma follows all the way through with a flick of her wrist. 

“Natasha, tell you girlfriend to shut up.” 

“I’ve never listened to Natasha.” You’re a bit of a brat sometimes, it’s true. “Besides, I’m going to bleed out soon anyway. Then my lovely girlfriend won’t have anyone to talk to. That would be such a shame because I’m a gem.” 

You decide then that you’ve stalled long enough, and really all you did was give your already gushing wounds time to bleed even more. The light headedness is starting to catch up to you and you sincerely hope that you’ve done enough. 

Najma doesn’t pay any mind to your talking, probably realizing what exactly it is that you were doing, and instead she focuses on Natasha again. 

“I will ask one more time.” 

This time Najma positions the knife in front of your stomach and you don’t know if she’s going to stab you or cut you, but you’re not sure she knows either. Frantic green eyes lock onto yours as you get a good look at Natasha. Your eyes are calm as you try memorize everything from the way her braid sits on the side of her shoulder to the perfect shape of her lips. Fear pulses through you and you know that somehow it is not entirely your own, but you shake your head all the same. 

You will not be the reason your family falls. You will not be the reason that Wanda and Natasha have no home to go back to. 

“Where. Is. The Mind stone?” 

Nat’s eyes are pleading but yours remain blank and you know she has to bring forth years and years of training to look away from you and instead at Najma. So the woman holding the knife can see the defiance in her eyes along with her lips pursed in a straight line. Natasha isn’t going to say a word. 

The knife plunges into your left side and you don’t scream, you aren’t going to give your captor that satisfaction, but the sound you do make is enough to have Natasha looking away and a single tear rolling down her cheek. To your confusion, though, Najma doesn’t withdraw the weapon. She leaves the blade inside of you and brushes off her hands before grabbing you by the chin so you can look directly in her eyes.

“Don’t breathe too hard, my little paaltoo, otherwise a vital organ will be caught and I would so love to torture you more later.” 

With that, she lets go of you and walks out. You think that having to look into that woman’s eyes was worse than any of the torture she’s inflicted on you. 

“Natty,” you breathe, voice worn and your eyes wanting to shut already. You’ve never been stabbed before and the pain plus your other wounds is too much. 

“Detka, I’m so sorry,” Natasha’s voice breaks and your heart aches for her. 

“Shhh. Don’t apologize, my love.” Breathing is starting to get really hard. “Natty I need to tell you something.” 

“Anything, malyshka.” 

You know Nat is desperate to keep you talking. Keep you awake. Alive. You don’t want to give up just yet. Wands will be here soon, you can feel it. 

“I think,” your head lolls to the side for a moment, “I think I only,” you breathe in and out, “like Urdu when Kamala,” you swallow because your mouth feels really dry all of a sudden, “speaks it.” 

“Me too, detka. Me too.” 

You can feel yourself fading, and you don’t think the knife has hit anything vital yet, but maybe a nap would help lessen the pain. Just a quick one. 

Your head lolls forward and it jostles the blade a little. You can hear Natasha’s panic, how her voice wavers and breaks as she addresses you. 

“Detka, baby, you’re doing so good for me, love. You’ve done so good. I need you to hold on just a little bit longer, okay? Just a little longer. For Wanda. Please, baby. Need you to stay awake.” 

You blink your eyes open and muster enough strength to look up at her. 

“I’m so tired, Natty.” 

“I know, baby. I know, but I need you for just a little longer, okay?”

“I don’t know if I can, Natty.” 

Breathing hurts and blood is sticky. Your head once again droops forward.

“Please. Please, Y/N!” 

Natasha’s cries are suddenly drowned out by the door opening. You assume it’s Najma, because even in your drowsy state, you didn’t miss the fact that Natasha screamed your name. 

But then there’s an explosion and you’re able to open your eyes just enough to see swirls of scarlet red surrounding the room. You can’t hang on any longer, but you hope that Wanda and Natasha will forgive you as you finally let your eyes close all the way and your body slump forward in the metal chair you were tied to. 

The last thing you felt was Natasha’s hands on you, trying to wake you up, and the last thing you heard was Wanda’s agonizing screams.

[poppadom0912]

The best babysitters

Warnings: Mentions of absent father but all fluff

Summary: Work prevents you from going home one night, thankfully you’ve got the best backup in Chicago.

A/N: This is being posted later than I planned. My mum was in hospital and it gave me a scare but she's all recovered now so here this is. This is in celebration of 1k, a few more will follow as my workload has decreased significantly.

This fic exists in the same world as my other fic ‘older sister’ but can also be read as a stand alone.

You were tired.

Work was beyond busy today and your clients were being unnecessarily stressful. All you wanted now was to go home, relieve your babysitter of her duties and enjoy the night in with your daughter.

It seemed that the universe had some sort of vendetta against you though because just as you were putting the finishing signatures on the last few papers, an intern, a woman you saw earlier at reception, came running into your office slightly out of breath.

You wanted to scream.

Letting the poor intern talk, you smiled at her stiffly, dismissing her after saying you’d make your way. There was no way you could ask your babysitter to stay late for God knows how much longer, you could remember her telling you she has a lecture tomorrow morning.

Getting up from your desk, you sighed, screwing your eyes closed when you caught the time on your phone. Your sigh in defeat could probably be heard all across Chicago.

Walking out your office, the sound of your heels filled out the empty space, majority of the firm had gone home, only a few stragglers staying behind to close up on any loose ends.

Turning your phone on, you ignored the several notifications screaming for your attention and went straight to your contacts.

Your phone only rang twice before the person on the receiving end picked up.

“Hey Will, can you do me the biggest favour please… You’re a life saviour, thanks, I owe you one.”

Hanging up the phone, you stared ahead through the windows at the bustling waiting room, raised angry voices overlapping and bleeding though the walls.

You could already feel your headache intensifying.

*****

Using his spare key, Will entered your house. Shuffling inside, he took off his jacket and shoes as usual.

Hearing the front door open, little pattering feet were immediately heard running across the house. Will smiled at the sound that he didn’t hear often due to all of your demanding jobs.

“Mama! Mama oh-“

The immense joy on Harper’s face disappeared as the nearly two-year-old rounded the corner on her little chubby legs, expecting to see her beloved mother who she missed all day only to suddenly be met with her redheaded uncle.

“Well hello to you too miss Harper.” Will smiled down at his niece nonetheless, crouching down to scoop her into his arms to which she didn’t argue and instead welcomed.

As soon as she was safe in his arms, the toothiest, giddiest smile broke out on her chubby face that was so scarily identical to yours that it could only be explained by witchcraft.

Harper giggled, such a sound making Will forget about all the horrors that stained his day from the emergency department.

“Hi!” She exclaimed, her smile remained upright and never faltered. “Hi!”

And soon after, she pressed her open mouth onto his stubbly cheek, her attempt of a kiss. Despite struggling with the tough task and all the slobber that remained on his cheek, Will’s reaction was instant and wouldn’t change for the world.

“Oh, thank you so much Harper! Uncle Will missed you tons. Look at how big you’ve grown!”

But, before Will could have all his focus solely on his adorable niece, the sound of the front door unlocking diverted his attention.

Lo and behold, Jay casually strolled in as though this was another random Tuesday.

Oh, that son of a b-

Harper’s scream that followed definitely burst Will’s eardrums.

Will winced, tipping his head away to protect his ears from any further damage before turning to glare at his brother who was taking his jacket off.

"What are you-"

"You said we'd meet at Molly's for a drink but you weren't there." Jay cut Will off, a smile on his face as he looked at Harper and spoke without looking in Will's direction. "Natalie told me you were here."

"Jay Jay's jealous Harper." Will said, his tone all factual and matter-of-fact as he looked at the toddler in his arms. "He didn't want to miss out."

Jay didn't even try to look offended or hurt by Will's remark because deep down, it was somewhat true because how could Jay let Will have all the fun by himself?

"Stop hogging her you buffoon and let me hold her." Jay told Will, not waiting for a reply as he moved forward and took Harper into his arms, the girl didn't protest nor did she willingly lean forward.

"What- Uh, I've literally been here for five minutes Jay."

"Am I your favourite uncle? I knew it!"

*****

Following Jay’s sudden and unprompted arrival, Will dismissed your babysitter, paying her what you usually did and a little more as compensation for staying so late.

Once she had left, there wasn’t much left around the house for them to do besides turning the dishwasher on and making Harper’s nightly milks, but it wasn’t her bedtime just yet and maybe if time permitted it, Harper could stay up a little beyond her usual bedtime.

Consider it a small treat for this special circumstance without her mother implementing her strict nighttime routine.

While Will was sorting away the finals bits in the kitchen, Jay easily made himself comfortable in the living room while Harper continued to babble nonsensically, a few discernible words welcomed themselves into the mix. Jay allowed himself to take a second to relish in the moment, trying to prevent himself from having an existential crisis as he realised he was both emotional but also proud of how much she was growing.

“Dada, look look! S’ Dada!”

Moment ruined, Jay’s smile instantly fell.

Jay followed the direction of Harper’s index finger to the tv, his face hardening at the sight of the man who failed his fiancée and his baby who just turned one.

Harper's 'dad' was a television reporter and it had totally slipped his mind that this was the channel he worked for. Seeing his stupid face yap away about the news made his blood boil.

Jay changed the channel without a second thought.

Your ex fiancé had suddenly decided to leave on Harper’s first birthday, not even having the decency to at least show up at her birthday party.

A year later, and Harper still remembered the man whose name was her first word.

It devastated you still to this day what he had done and Harper’s random interjections of ‘dada’ only made the wound deeper.

“Dada isn’t here harper.” Jay said, tone as soft as it could be as he tried to explain it without her crying.

“It’s just uncle Jay and Will, and mama will be home soon.” Jay continued, holding the toddler in his lap so there was no chance of her running away crying.

Luckily, Harper was a mummy’s girl through and through, so despite the large absence of her father, simply mentioning ‘mama’ or anything akin to that made her entire face light up in a way that no one else could.

“Okay Halstead’s, listen up!” Will said as he entered the living room, phone in one and a towel in the other.

“Y/N’s saying it’s mostly likely going to be another two hours minimum so we’re most likely going to have to stay over.” Will told Jay specifically before looking down at Harper.

“You wanna get into your PJ’s Harps? Jay Jay can make you some milk.”

And despite her highly energised state, Harper would never turn down the enticing combination of her pyjamas and warm milk.

Crawling out of Jay’s lap, Harper moved towards Will who in turn of carrying her gave Jay the towel he was holding. And as much as Jay wanted to fight his brother, he knew Will had more experience with kids - i.e. Owen - and so he could gladly change her diaper.

With Will and Harper standing over him, brown eyes wide, glinting with a hidden intent Jay had become familiar with since childhood. It really wasn’t fair that you and Will both had your father’s eyes which Harper just had to inherit. Jay found himself useless and always surrendering to those goddamn eyes, even as the youngest sibling.

Whenever Jay remembered his childhood, it never made sense why the two older siblings never folded as easily when he looked up at them with the biggest, most imploring eyes. Even now, three decades later, and not a single thing had changed.

“Okay, okay! Just stop looking at me like that.” As soon as Jay spoke, the two rejoiced, their happiness still discernible even as they made their way upstairs.

“Let’s get this party started then.”

*****

And so party they did.

Well at least according to Harper’s standards.

The night started off with warm drinks - Harper with her milk while Will and Jay spoiled themselves to the expensive coffee beans that you easily could afford but neither your brothers indulged in unless under your roof.

Following this, Harper had a short but very fun time running around with sudden newfound energy, causing as much havoc as humanly possible for anyone her size.

It was safe to say that she tired herself quite quickly.

As Jay opened himself and Will a beer, he walked back into the living room, his eyes landing on his older brother and niece, the younger scrunched up into a little ball on Will's chest. Her face completely relaxed and arms wrapped around his torso as she snored quietly.

"Now this, after today, is my kinda party."

"Amen." Will agreed, tapping his bottle with Jay's as a silent 'cheers'.

Jay settled besides his brother, both of them staring forward at the muted movie Harper randomly chose, the first she watched that didn't have any princess affiliations.

"Gosh, it feels like years since we last babysat her." Will said, a sombre but nostalgic tone lacing his words.

"It does." Jay hummed as he swallowed his beer. "We're all so busy with work we can hardly make time for each other."

Will scoffed. "I see you almost everyday, strolling casually into the ED like you own the freaking place. Who are you kidding?"

Jay rolled his eyes but agreed nonetheless.

"Yeah, we need to visit more often. Make more effort and take out the time."

The silence that followed was filled by Harpers little snores and the occasional sound of a siren blaring past in the distance.

"I'm so tired I could knock out right here on the floor."

"Don't be such a doofus, go put her down in her bed."

"Aye aye captain."

*****

When you finally returned home three hours later, tired beyond belief. You were so close to dropping to the floor as soon as you locked the door but as you ventured into the house, you were met with the most heart warming sight.

On the floor in the living room remained your two younger brothers and your daughter. Harper was still scrunched up in a ball on Will's chest, her hand clutching his shirt while said man had his face leaning forward into her hair, his breaths causing Harper's curl to move occasionally. Jay sat besides them, hands crossed slightly on his lap and his head tipped backwards, resting on the sofa.

Even as your eyes burned with the need for sleep, you took a few pictures of the scene before you, your smile not going till your head met your pillow.

If Jay and Will woke up with sore necks in the morning, there was a very seasoned doctor in the house for a reason.

[shizuturnspages]

hiii, i really enjoyed this post:

https://www.tumblr.com/shizuturnspages/775377715437174784/hello-you-can-make-a-yandere-wandererscaramouche

(the one about genshin chars meeting reader who is almost identical to someone they lost) i loved it! ^^ if it’s no trouble, i was wondering if you could write on the same prompt but with the anemo boys? kazuha, heizou, xiao etc 😸

Ghosts in the Wind

Synopsis: Some wounds never heal. Some ghosts never truly fade. And some faces, no matter how much time has passed, are impossible to forget. You were not the person they lost. But to them, you might as well have been. Pairings: [Separate] Yandere Kazuha, Heizou, Xiao, Venti x Reader

Kaedehara Kazuha — The Echo of a Summer Storm

Kazuha was the first to notice.

It happened at dawn, the sky painted in gentle hues of pink and gold. You had been admiring the ocean breeze near Ritou when a voice—soft, yet edged with something unreadable—called out.

“I thought I had made peace with loss,” Kazuha murmured.

You turned, confused, only to be met with a gaze that was far away, lost in memories that did not belong to you. Kazuha was watching you, but it was not you that he was seeing.

“…Is something wrong?” you asked hesitantly.

He exhaled, almost as if he had forgotten to breathe. Then, a soft chuckle escaped him, tinged with quiet grief. “Forgive me. It seems the wind plays cruel tricks.”

He did not say it outright at first. But the way his fingers lingered over his sword, the way his gaze followed you as if committing your every movement to memory—it was as if he expected you to disappear the moment he blinked.

Eventually, he told you.

Tomo.

A dear friend. A warrior who had died beneath the weight of tyranny, his final words lost to the raging storm. Kazuha had spent so long chasing the wind, hoping to hear his voice once more.

And then you arrived, wearing a face that should have been buried in the past.

“You are not him,” Kazuha admitted, voice gentle, yet firm. “But for a moment, when I see you standing in the breeze… I almost believe I could reach out and find him there.”

You had no words to offer.

Because you were not Tomo. But Kazuha still smiled, as if that truth was something he had already accepted long ago.

Shikanoin Heizou — The Unsolved Case

Shikanoin Heizou prided himself on being unshakable. A detective’s intuition was supposed to be sharp, immune to the distractions of emotion.

And yet, when he first saw you, every instinct screamed at him to stop. To look closer.

You had introduced yourself as a traveler passing through Inazuma, nothing more, nothing less. But Heizou couldn’t ignore the way you carried yourself—sharp-eyed, quick-footed, always watching. You moved exactly like someone he used to know.

Exactly like Watanabe Sora.

She had been his partner once, a fellow detective with an even sharper wit than his own. They had worked side by side, solving cases that others deemed impossible. Until one day, she vanished. A case gone wrong. A trail gone cold. And no matter how hard he tried, Heizou never found out what truly happened to her.

Now, here you were, wearing a face he thought he’d never see again.

Heizou forced himself to smile, but his mind was already working, analyzing. Your mannerisms, your speech patterns—were they really the same? Or was his grief making him see things that weren’t there?

“You seem like the type who notices the small details,” he remarked, testing you. “Ever considered detective work?”

You laughed. “Maybe in another life.”

Another life.

Heizou’s fingers twitched. His mind whispered theories, each one more absurd than the last. But no matter how many riddles he solved, there was one mystery he feared he would never unravel.

Why did the past refuse to stay buried?

Xiao — The Ghost That Won’t Fade

Xiao hated it.

The first time he saw you, he stopped breathing. Bosacius. The name slammed into his chest like a spear.

His hands clenched. His vision blurred. It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be.

Yet you stood before him, alive, real—wearing a face that had long since faded from this world.

He vanished.

For days, he avoided you. When you called his name, he did not answer. When you sought him out, he disappeared before you could approach.

It wasn’t until you cornered him at Wangshu Inn that he finally snapped.

“Stay away from me.” His voice was sharper than the coldest winds, his golden eyes burning with something you could not name.

“…Why?”

“You should not exist,” Xiao bit out, fists trembling. “He is gone. I watched him fade into the abyss. And yet you…” His breath was unsteady. “You walk this land as if his death never mattered.”

The anger was a mask. Beneath it, you saw the grief—the unbearable weight of centuries of loss. Xiao did not mourn like mortals did. He buried it deep, forced himself to forget, because remembering hurt too much.

But then you arrived, and the past refused to stay buried.

“I am not him,” you told him quietly.

Xiao exhaled sharply. His fingers twitched, as if resisting the urge to reach for you.

“…I know.”

But the pain in his gaze said otherwise.

Venti — The Ballad Left Unfinished

Venti was not one for sorrow. He drank, he sang, he laughed—but never did he allow grief to linger too long in his melodies.

And yet, the moment he saw you, his lyre slipped from his grasp.

“Ah.” His voice wavered. “The winds have truly played a cruel joke this time.”

He did not name the one you resembled, but in his eyes, you saw recognition—a friend from long ago, a fallen hero whose name had been lost to time. Someone who had once stood beside him, laughing beneath the open sky, before fate had stolen them away.

He smiled, but it was not his usual carefree grin. It was something softer, tinged with longing.

“You must be quite the traveler,” he mused, plucking at his lyre with delicate fingers. “To carry the faces of ghosts with you.”

Venti did not grieve the way the others did. He did not push you away, nor did he seek to unravel the mystery of your existence. Instead, he simply watched.

And sometimes, when he played a tune, you swore you could hear an echo of something ancient, something sad—a song for the ones he had lost, and for the one who now bore their face.

[justakaku]

Confidentiality - Chapter 10. - yandere!ATEEZ OT8 x f!reader

Introduction: Joining a peer support group for mentally ill was a good idea for the last two times you were there. Then it's only natural for the third time to go well too, right?

Pairings: yandere!Hongjoong x reader, yandere!Seonghwa x reader, yandere!Yunho x reader, yandere!Yeosang x reader, yandere!San x reader, yandere!Mingi x reader, yandere!Wooyoung x reader, yandere!Jongho x reader

T/W: This story will include talk about mental health struggles such as paranoid thoughts. Possessive and obsessive behavior, stalking, manipulation, violence. Dark themes are to be expected. MENTIONS OF SUICIDE AND DRUGS IN THIS CHAPTER! Character death! A/N: Damn, it has been over two months since the last chapter... This one's going to be more intense and reveals important information. I hope you enjoy! Word count: 2 721

Answering to unknown numbers had always caused you distress. You never knew if the person calling you was lying about their identity or intentions. It could be a bank officer, but it could also be a man from the other side of the world claiming to be your lost great-great-grandfather who wants to include you in his will. 

These days you were different. Your phone was stuck to your side and your fingers ready to act if there was an upcoming call from an unknown number. It could be the bank officer or scammer but now there was also a chance of the police calling you. 

A few weeks ago, they had arrived in your apartment in a rush. No stone was left unturned as they searched for signs of the break-in. To your relief they did find some evidence and believed your suspicions of someone stalking you. Saving all those letters had come in handy after all. 

But as you waited weeks for them to call you and update you on the investigation, no call ever came. That’s why you were at the police station, too impatient to keep on waiting at home. You just needed to know if they were any close to catching the stalker. 

“I’m sorry, miss L/N. This case you’re talking about... it doesn’t exist,” the police officer spoke calmly. 

You furrowed your brows. 

“How could that be possible? I was there when the police came to my apartment and searched it.” 

The officer had clearly seen lots of different kind of people during her career since she put a practiced, firm yet compassionate smile on her face. Despite her work experience, she still couldn’t see you weren’t some delusional nutcase. 

“Unfortunately, there are no traces of your case existing. We’ll contact you if the situation changes, but for now I advise you to go home.” 

You left the police station, confused and distraught. How could the police not have your case registered? You could have disregarded everything as some weird dream if it weren’t for the shattered glass doors and stolen objects. 

You had stopped going to the group therapy since the day you had found your home in that state of chaos. Since the stalker must have found you there, you should have started feeling safer now that you would never step into the therapy room again. But still, a persistent fear lingered. You didn’t feel safe at your own home anymore. 

People passed by as you walked on the streets, heading home. It was daytime, and none of them had even glanced at you. Still, it was impossible to shake off the feeling of being followed. 

Suddenly, a hand landed on your shoulder. It felt like ice-cold water had been poured on you in that moment. With a quick turn, you faced the culprit and hit him with your elbow. 

“Ow! Calm down, it’s just me!” 

You gasped as you recognized the face you had just hit: it was Wooyoung. 

“I-I’m sorry, Wooyoung! I didn’t know it was you.” 

“It’s okay. I guess I had it coming with the way I sneaked up to you.” 

Wooyoung was grinning, but you could see he was in pain. Blood was slowly starting to trickle down his nostrils. He wiped some of the crimson-red blood on the sleeve of his sweater and you cringed. 

“Your nose is bleeding. I’m sorry,” you mumbled in shame, “Do you want to come to my place? I’ll give you some tissues.” 

“Well, well, I never thought I would see the day you invite me to your apartment,” Wooyoung smirked, making you regret your invitation already. 

“It won’t take long. I live nearby,”  

“Oh, I know.” 

Wooyoung’s comment was alarming, but you figured he knew where you lived because of Yeosang. Back at that sleepover, Wooyoung had said that Yeosang shares “everything and everyone” with him and San. 

At least it hadn’t been the stalker following you. Wooyoung was mischievous but most likely not the one who had broken into your apartment. After all, he had been with you the whole time, even coming to sleep next to you. 

It didn’t feel like you were leading Wooyoung into your home since it seemed that he already knew your exact address. He even greeted the neighbors sitting outside like he knew them. 

The entire time you inspected his actions carefully. All his little jokes, smiles, and the weird glint in his eyes. You just hoped you weren’t making a mistake, bringing him to your home. 

“So, the bathroom is-” 

As soon as you opened the front door, you tried to guide Wooyoung into the bathroom to clean up his bleeding nose. But you couldn’t even finish your sentence; he had already headed in the right direction without needing your guidance. 

You watched as he cleaned up, washing the blood off and stuffing a crumpled piece of toilet paper inside his other nostril. A quiet, pained grunt escaped his lips, and you felt guilty. 

“I’m sorry, Wooyoung. I thought you were someone dangerous.” 

“Ah, do you mean the stalker?” 

“Precisely.” 

Wooyoung turned to look at you properly instead of merely catching glimpses of you in the mirror. He gave you a smile – he also gave you the bloody paper that had been previously inside his nose. 

“I’ll forgive you if you let me cook for you.” 

“And why did you give me this paper?” you grimaced. 

Nobody likes dirty things, especially not you. The paper drenched in Wooyoung’s blood could have all kinds of nasty bacteria crawling up your skin. 

“Just a little memory of me. Who knows, maybe I’ll die in the next few days? The letters I’ve been receiving are creeping me out,” Wooyoung grinned. 

“You’ve still received those? Why haven’t you told the police?” 

With a roll of his eyes, Wooyoung threw the question back at you: “Why haven’t you told the police about the stalking situation?” 

You had. You definitely had. You could remember the police arriving and searching the apartment for any immediate danger and evidence. 

But could it be possible you had imagined everything? No. That’s why the police officer’s revelation had freaked you out. 

“I have told the police. My apartment was broken into, and the police came here,” you spoke grimly, “Today I went to the station, and I was told that my case doesn’t exist. According to them, nothing ever happened.” 

Wooyoung immediately fell quiet. His eyes were empty, at least compared to his usual lively expressions. 

“I have a theory.” 

Wooyoung’s words made your heart jump. Could he have some crucial information? 

“I... I need to test it out a little first. I’ll tell you once I know better,” he continued. 

After that, Wooyoung ushered you to sit on the couch while he was going to prepare you a meal. You told him that you wanted to help, but he remained uncharacteristically stern and didn’t let you indulge in the cooking. 

You couldn’t help but wonder what he was cooking since the air wafting into the living room smelled unusual. It wasn’t necessarily a bad smell, just a little odd. 

“What are you cooking?” you called out to Wooyoung. 

A moment of silence followed your words but eventually he answered from the kitchen: “I can’t spoil the surprise.” 

 A sigh slipped past your lips. After mentioning the break-in and police, Wooyoung had turned subdued and weirdly serious. 

To pass time, you turned on the TV. It was a new, more pathetic one, after the break-in had caused your old TV screen to shatter completely. As if you hadn’t had money issues before, now you had had to buy and fix a lot of stuff. The government had cut off your monetary assistance because you had stopped going to the group therapy. Things were tough. 

You switched through the TV channels, not finding the energy to actually focus on watching them. 

A true crime documentary was playing on the background. Hearing about the murdered and kidnapped victims made you even more uneasy. Mostly, you could only focus on the fears having a hold on you. 

“Stop watching that. You’ll have nightmares.” 

Wooyoung had suddenly appeared out of the kitchen and turned the TV off. He set a plate full of food in front of you on the coffee table. 

“Is this for me?” 

“Yeah. Just for you,” he answered. 

You couldn’t lie; the food looked absolutely delectable. And you were very hungry. Past days you hadn’t cooked anything, just nourishing yourself with simple meals. 

Wooyoung stared at you intently as you eventually started devouring the food. 

Bite by bite the plate got emptier. And minute by minute you started becoming more tired. 

“How did it taste like?” 

You nodded in approval: “It was delicious. Thank you.” 

Wooyoung nodded as well. His eyes were intense yet empty at the same time, “And how do you feel?” 

“Full. And very tired. I think I’m going into a food coma,” you chuckled. 

While you may hadn’t noticed that your speech was getting slurred, Wooyoung had. 

It was becoming difficult to keep your eyes open. There was definitely something wrong, but your head was so fuzzy that you couldn’t even think about what was happening. 

“Oh. That is such a shame. I guess our hangout will be cut short then,” Wooyoung spoke slowly. 

With a yawn, you informed him you’d go to bed. However, your limbs felt so heavy that it felt impossible to move them. 

“No. You can stay on the couch, and I’ll be here with you. I’ll make sure you’re comfortable and safe, baby.” 

The pet name was weird, but it was innocent enough. You couldn’t even find the strength to answer because you were too tired to even move your lips. Slowly, you closed your eyes. A little rest would be good. 

It was silent for a couple minutes. Wooyoung typing on his phone broke the silence, but you didn’t care. 

Silence again. You were fighting against the inevitable exhaustion that would tip you off the edge of consciousness soon enough. 

Suddenly, the doorbell rang. Hearing Wooyoung get up from the couch and walk to the door, you felt satisfied. You couldn’t have answered the door at this state. 

“Woo...ong. I... somethin... for...” 

You heard a familiar voice speaking to Wooyoung, but you couldn’t make out the words completely. It was hard to even stay awake, let alone understand what was happening around you. 

“What... hell... you... here?” you heard Wooyoung asking something angrily. 

“...away... her... I’ll... you.” 

After that your eyes closed slowly. 

When you woke up, you didn’t feel refreshed. Wooyoung was nowhere to be seen, and it was both a good and bad thing. In the place of some of your memories from before you fell asleep were now blank spaces. You needed him to tell you what had happened. 

Groggily, you reached for your phone on the coffee table. If you remembered correctly the time you had arrived home yesterday, you had been sleeping for 18 hours already. The air was tense despite you being the only one in your apartment. Wanting to get your mind off the nagging feeling of unease, you started scrolling on your phone. 

Then you noticed you had received a text message from Yeosang. 

“Wooyoung is dead.” 

Your heart dropped. Your mind went blank. No way. 

Another message came through. 

“He was found dead in his apartment today. According to the police it was a suicide. An overdose on a drug.” 

But just some hours ago he had been alive and well. He had seemed completely his normally weird self until you had mentioned the break-in and the police. 

Your fingers trembled as you wrote a message back: “This is terrible. Who found him?” 

It took a while until Yeosang sent his next message. 

“San and I did. He didn’t show up to our hangout in time, so we went to look for him.” 

Suddenly a memory flashed through your mind. Someone ringing the doorbell. Wooyoung answering it. Them talking to each other angrily. 

“Wooyoung was at my place earlier. Just before I fell asleep someone rang my doorbell and talked with him,” you replied. 

You couldn’t process the fact that Wooyoung was gone now. It didn’t make sense. Why did people keep disappearing in your life? First it was your parents, then it was Jongho and now even Wooyoung. 

“We must talk. As soon as possible.” 

Soon enough, you met up with Yeosang at his apartment. He opened the door, a grim look on his handsome features. You opened your arms instead, offering him a hug tentatively. 

Yeosang’s arms wrapped around your body. No words were exchanged but you could feel his emotions even non-verbally. The way his body trembled broke your heart. 

“Y/N,” a familiar voice called out. 

You locked eyes with San and gave him a weak nod and an even weaker smile. 

Usually, he was the one seeking out physical contact and Yeosang being the more reserved one. But now he had to be strong for Yeosang and you. He probably felt like he should bear the grief of everyone alone. 

The three of you sat down around Yeosang’s dining table. There were four chairs, one left unoccupied, almost like a mockery of Wooyoung’s absence. You hadn’t even been that much of close friends with him, but during the past weeks you’d gotten to know him better. This was all so wrong and sudden. 

“You texted Yeosang that you heard someone talking to him. What did that person say? What did they sound like?” 

You could hear the pain in San’s voice. 

“It was a familiar voice. A man. But I can’t put my finger on who it could have been.” 

“What did Wooyoung and him talk about?” 

“It was a heated conversation. They were arguing. I was so tired that I couldn’t focus properly, but I heard some words here and there,” you mumbled. 

San looked quite disappointed, which made you feel guilty. Wooyoung’s death wasn’t your fault, at least hopefully, but you wanted to be able to help. 

“The man clearly knew Wooyoung, since he said his name. He said something about what he’d do to him,” you said quietly, “At least I think so...” 

Yeosang had been quiet all this time but suddenly he spoke, “San. Do you remember the message he sent to us yesterday?” 

You could recall hearing Wooyoung type something on his phone as you had been lying down on the couch. Maybe that was the message Yeosang was talking about. 

“I do. He said he has a theory,” San answered. 

“He told me that too,” you chimed in, “He didn’t want to tell me yet since he wanted to ‘test out his theory’.” 

The air was thick and tension high – not in a threatening way, more like anxious. Yeosang and San exchanged glances. They were communicating wordlessly and effortlessly with just eyes. It made you feel even worse; Wooyoung, San, and Yeosang had been such a close, tight-knit trio. Now it all had been shattered. 

San let out a heavy sigh. If his eyes hadn’t been serious before, they were now. 

“Wooyoung said that you went to the police station and there were no traces of your case. Is that correct?” 

At your confirming nod, San continued speaking, “Why do you think that’s the situation? The police had arrived at your place after all, right?” 

It felt like this was extremely important. If you found out the reason why the police had suddenly lost all information of your case, you could find out many more crucial things. 

Suddenly, a thought popped up into your head. 

“Someone who has knowledge about how police work, the access to their files... That someone could have intentionally made it seem like the case never happened,” you murmured slowly, the words pouring out of your mouth. They tasted disgusting. 

San’s intense gaze confirmed your fears. 

“And who could that be?” he asked. 

You should have expected this. That certain someone was a police officer. That certain someone had been suspicious from the start, so why did it feel so hard to say his name? 

San and Yeosang already knew; they didn’t need to hear you say it. They just wanted you to acknowledge it. 

You whispered his name. 

“Yunho.” 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ <- Chapter 9. Chapter 11. -> Masterlist ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Taglist: @devilzliaison @lover-with-dolar-sign-is-a-loser @gigikubolong29 @peqchplvto @eighttens @all-of-kpop @castingjinx @jsprien213 @lilyalone @atzloverr @ltyzennie @keisocool @carpioassists @levishun

[dearsubong]

su bong vs his younger self ☆ choi su bong

warnings ✧ fluff, comedy ig, crack, swearing, woa unexpected implied smut @ da end

summary ✧ you wake up to the sight of your boyfriend arguing with a younger boy who looks exactly like him.

authors note ✧ i just had to use a younger top photo 😭 sorry for being inactive—just a short oneshot i was working on previously.

yawning softly as your eyes fluttered open from the bright sun peeking through the curtains. you’re surprised that su bong woke up before you, those thoughts disappeared as your nose caught the smell of burnt toast. you sat up before your feet led you to the kitchen, meeting a rather… unusual sight.

there was, of course, your boyfriend but there was also a younger man that looked exactly like him. but there was no purple hair and his facial features looked smooth and soft, unlike su bong. the man— or boy— looked 19 or 20, just stepping into adult hood. your boyfriend was arguing with him.

“fuck off, i know what i’m doing.” su bong mutters, nudging his shoulder against his lookalike’s chest, pushing him away. “no you don’t.” the younger man comments, his voice was just a little higher than your boyfriends. after standing there for a couple seconds, you before speaking up with a cough. “babe?” su bongs head snaps to you, looking back and forth between you and the unknown man that looks like his identical twin. “good morning, babe…” he mumbled. “who is that?” “well… he’s my younger self. i have no idea how he got here, he said he went into the future or some stupid shit.” your mouth turns into an ‘o’ shape before you nod. “i noticed how similar he looks to you.”

his younger self gasped as he took in the sight of you. “y/n? i got with y/n?!” su bong groans and looks to the side, side eyeing him. “she’s even more beautiful than in my time… do you even know how obsessed i am with her? but she keeps pushing me away. i knew I’d get to her. nice, older me.“ the boy flashed your boyfriends distinct smirk. “piss off, i got her, not you.“ su bong’s expression switched to annoyance and possessiveness.

“seriously? you’re me, i’m you. we got her.“

“oh, fuck off.“

“calm it broski.“

su bong side eyed himself, his upper lip looking like it got pulled up by a string on the side. “damn, my vocabulary was cringe back then.“ you laughed softly as he admitted that. “babe, trust me, it still is. all that ’senorita’ shit has been staying with you since day one.“ your purple headed boyfriend pouted. “nah, thats your favourite nickname, senorita. you know it.“ his charming words always got the best of you. “its only because of the way you say it. don’t get too ahead of yourself.“ su bong then raises his a brow. “is that right?” he plants a firm hand on your hip before kissing you sensually, the grip tightening.

“holy fuck, get a room! im not watching my future self kiss my crush.”

“well, guess what?”

“what?”

“she’s my girlfriend, fuckwit.”

“she’s gonna be my girlfriend, assfuck.”

“she’s gonna be my wife, shitface!”

“now you two are just spitting cuss words out of your mouths.” you interrupt. “and i’m gonna be your wife, baby? is this you proposing? i say yes.” they both side eye you like they want to continue. “no.” you replied like you had a language you can understand just by how they look at you. the two of them both groan in synchronisation and you laugh at how it sounded so harmonised. “don’t groan at me. but the way you two did the exact same groan is hysterical.”

“you think im funny, babe?” younger su bong raises his brows up and down flirtatiously.

“she’s my babe.”

“she’s both our babes.”

“mine.” he put his hand around your waist, gripping tight in dominance.

“ours.” younger su bong puts his own hand on the other side of your waist.

“you son of a bitch—mine.”

“well guess what? im you, so you called your own mom a bitch.”

“nah, talking about dad. he’s a bitch. you’re a son of THAT bitch.”

“you’re not wrong, to be honest.”

“okay, okay! just STOP.”

—

scrap those boring paragraphs and boring plot. guess what happened next?

a freaky deaky, sloppy toppy, steamy, wet threesome. ^_^

[purplehalnw]

Props to the Daredevil writers because there are moments between Matt and Foggy like:

-Foggy saying that Matt's a "really good looking guy" when they first meet

-Foggy and Matt equating owning a law firm together to them being married

-Matt saying "you're not gonna kiss me" and Foggy responding "I'm feeling a little something"

That could come off as queerbaiting but honestly don't, at least in my opinion.

Some of my fave celebrity dynamics (David Tennant & Michael Sheen, Anthony Mackie & Sebastian Stan) are friends who are secure enough in their sexualities and identities that they're totally fine with jokingly flirting with/saying romantic things about each other. And this seems like something that the Daredevil writers were doing with Matt and Foggy's relationship.

Like in most instances, queerbaiting comes from the situations two (often male) characters are put in. They're put in situations that force them to be super close with one another or in situations where other characters assume that they're a couple, both of which the audience is expected to laugh at. You're laughing at how "compromising" the situation is. Because being queer is largely seen as something shameful and emasculating and seeing these men being essentially humiliated is meant to be funny.

I think an example of this is Bucky and Sam in "Falcon and the Winter Soldier". There's the scene where Bucky and Sam fall off a truck in ep 2 and roll around in the grass, holding onto each other. Even when they stop rolling, Bucky doesn't get off of Sam until Sam pushes him off. There's a scene in that same episode where Bucky and Sam are with Bucky's therapist who suggests that they do a "soul gazing exercise" that she "usually does with couples". To do the exercise, Bucky and Sam have to get so close that they end up interlocking legs. In the end, Sam tells the therapist "thanks doc, for making it weird".

In these moments you're laughing at how unwillingly physically close Bucky and Sam have to be, you're laughing at them being treated/framed like a couple, but you're not supposed to seriously expect them to ever be together. It's pretty mean-spirited.

And in my opinion what makes Matt and Foggy different from this is that they are the ones making the jokes. They aren't ashamed by the idea of them being together, in fact they're endeared by it. So, in this case you're laughing with them, not at them.

Plus, queerbaiting has intention behind it. The writers intend to bait queer people with representation without giving them any payoff so that they can also appeal to the homophobes in the audience. And in my opinion, it's clear that the Daredevil writers never intended to give off the impression that Matt and Foggy might be a couple some day.

Obviously, no hate to Matt & Foggy shippers. People love romance, especially between those who are already close friends. But I do really love their friendship and how it's the heart of the show.

Some writers are so afraid of their male characters being interpreted as gay that they'll just ruin their relationship in general. Like how the Star Wars sequels separated Finn and Poe and started giving them random female love interests. Or how the MCU decided to have Steve abandon Bucky just so he could go back in time to be with his previously-almost-girlfriend Peggy who had moved on from him in the future.

But the Daredevil writers definitely aren't afraid of Matt and Foggy being too close. Matt gets several love interests but pretty much all of them end up leaving him in some way. But you know who is always there for him? Foggy. His friendship with Foggy is the most important relationship in the show, even in death it seems (haven't seen Born Again yet but I of course couldn't avoid spoilers).

[skellseerwriting]

5 Times Iida Thinks You’re a Boy and 1 Time He Finally Realizes

Oblivious!Iida x Fem!Androgynous!Reader

Part 1: School Uniform

Word Count: 900

Content & Warnings: Something Iida says could come off as misogynistic but I promise he’s just stupid (/aff), Iida being a vulture about people sitting on desks, takes place in the beginning of their first year, I haven’t watched MHA in 3 years so some things could be inaccurate or ooc

Summary: After chatting with Iida about proper school behavior, he makes a strange remark about school uniforms

Disclaimer: This is not a commentary on how people should (or can’t) dress based on their gender identity or assigned gender at birth. This is self projection based on my experiences, how I prefer to dress, and how I dress because of those experiences

“Get off of that desk right now! It’s disrespectful!”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. Quickly uncrossing your legs, you got off the flat surface and stood up with your feet firmly on the floor; facing your class rep.

“Sorry.” You told him, slightly reeling. “If you really want people to stop doing things like that, maybe try asking nicely first. I still would have listened if you had.”

Now it was Iida’s turn to recoil. It was as if the thought had never occurred to him.

“I-“ he straightened his rectangular glasses, then looked down and sighed. “I suppose you’re right. Please accept my apologies.”

His words were precise and articulated, and you couldn’t help but react positively to the way he accepted your criticism. You didn’t normally sit on desks. It was an exception you started making now that you wore pants with your school uniform. But, in his defense, this was a prestigious school, so maybe you ought to have a little more tact.

“It’s no big deal.” You reassured him. “You have a fair point, and I agree.”

His back straightened as he looked at you. The admiration that went hand-in-hand with his rigor for rules overtook him again. “Thank you. No one else here has felt the same way about respecting the school property that was once used by our great and noble predecessors.”

The way he said it made you smile. He was so passionate about these things; you couldn’t help but be endeared.

“Or the same way about being on time.” You added toothily. It wasn’t that you were a stickler for being on time like he was, but it was something you also prioritized with your education. You were kindred spirits, in that way.

“Thank you!” He repeated again, this time with more vigor and enthusiasm. “I’ve yet to see any of our other classmates understand the importance of punctuality! I’m so glad that you agree.”

Tsu moved her hand out before leaning forward. “Uh, we’re right here, ribbit.” She interjected. Beside her, Ashido rolled her eyes, but giggled.

“Sorry Tsu.” You apologized.

“Don’t worry about it.” She responded, blinking slowly. “By the way, I was wondering how you got your uniform pants; I’ve been thinking about getting a pair for myself.”

“I’m sorry to inform you Tsu, but pants are to be worn by male students only.” Iida declared, chopping a firm hand down and missing the way it made your eyebrows furrow.

“Uh… that’s obviously not true?…” you said with confusion lacing your tone. Your palm displayed openly and awkwardly in a perplexed manner. Iida just looked at you incredulously for the span of a few silent moments. The gears in his head seemed to turn as he looked down at the pants you were currently wearing.

A tiny sound rang out from his watch.

“Oh!” He reached down to turn it off. Then, pivoted his whole body to shout to the whole class. “Attention everyone! It is now time to go to the locker rooms to change into our training uniforms before heading to the out-door training grounds! Please exit the classroom in an orderly manner!” Then, he left.

The girls and you just hung your heads and sighed in unison as people started leaving the room in a variety of different speeds. Someone even full-on sprinted out.

“That man has bolts for brains.” You said as you made your way between the desks, though the way you said it was more affectionate than mean-spirited. “He didn’t even notice that I was literally wearing pants right in front of him. There’s no rules saying girls can’t wear pants; that’s just ridiculous.”

“I think it’s kind of cute!” Ashido said, bumping into your shoulder. “He’s so attentive but couldn’t see what was right in front of him. Guys are adorable when they’re oblivious like that.”

You tried to ignore the blush you felt grazing your cheeks. Smiling at her, you said “What?” and acted as if she had just told you about some humorous prank scheme that would never work due to its sheer ridiculousness.

“You heard me.” She grinned, gesturing to let you walk through the door first. If her reaction indicated anything, it was that she noticed your reaction to her words. You held your head up high in exaggerated propriety.

“I’ll have you know, I prefer the intelligent type.”

“He falls under that category too.” Tsu countered as a joke while the three of you trailed behind the rest of your classmates down the hallway. Iida was at the head of it leading everyone, so there was no way for him to possibly overhear the conversation.

“How about we change the subject.” You proposed, moving to speed-walk farther away from them. They started giggling as they walked faster to catch up to you.

“I’m not sure we should change the subject.” Ashido laughed, popping up backwards at your left while Tsu showed up at your right. “I think I quite like the topic at hand.” She added cheerfully. “What do you think Tsu?”

Tsu ribbited before piping up with her own opinion that was mellowly weaponized against you. “I like the subject too. I miss talking about boys back in junior high.”

Making some frustrated noises, you facepalmed with an annoyed chuckle. “You two are impossible…”

Part 2

Taglist: currently empty

[samcvrpenters]

word count: 1.9k+

pairing: vampire! joe goldberg x private detective! fem! reader

summary: you meet him at your best friend’s apartment, and when she goes missing the next day, of course you find him again

warnings: vampire joe au, canon storyline divergence, obsession, murder, mentions of stalking, blood-sucking

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

a feeling of ecstasy and euphoria coats joe’s whole body and mind as he feasts on the body below him. marienne bellamy was nothing more than a story, now. something that love deserved to worry about, and something that he worried about for a long time until she had betrayed him.

he no longer sees the appeal. he sees the appeal of her blood, and her insides, but that’s probably all it is now. he doesn’t care about her appearance or personality. there’s nothing left to care about. it’s not like he’ll keep the skeleton or the clothes. maybe a couple of teeth, but that doesn’t make her special. he does it with everyone he kills.

they’re trophies. trophies of his success. stories of how he managed to combat them in some way, shape or form and win. how he was able to claim the victory of being the more powerful and superior being after killing them in whatever way it was. maybe it was some old fashioned strangulation. or a knife to the throat. or maybe he simply gave in to his true identity and drained them of their blood.

that’s the method he chose with marienne. it was quick and easy too. there was no planning that needed to be put in place, no thoughts about where he was going to hide the murder weapon, no bother about fingerprints unless they were going to analyse the slight crevices of tooth marks in the woman’s skin, but it wouldn’t matter anyway. joe isn’t in the database for the police.

he sets the body down, leaving it on the floor before finally finding himself standing up, blood dripping from his teeth and around his mouth before he raises his hand up, and quickly wipes his skin. it does nothing apart from smudge it a little.

he’s spitting saliva into his hand and rubbing at his chin and around his lips, getting rid of as much blood as he possibly can so that he won’t be seen. but there’s not much to see, really. he’s in marienne’s apartment and he could just use the sink to wash everything off, but maybe he wants that final taste of her blood.

and then he hears it, a knock at the door. not delicate. but not harsh. it’s somewhere in between— more of a firm knock rather than anything else. his head finds itself turning towards the door and he’s grabbing a knife from the block that’s on the counter in the kitchen, twirling it between his fingertips before pulling it out.

it’s hidden behind his back, and he takes a quick glance in the oval shaped mirror on the wall, making sure there is nothing left to show what he just did. if it’s an officer behind the door, he’s done for. if it’s someone else, he might just be able to get away with it.

he opens the door, finally seeing you for the first time.

you’re not an officer. he can tell that. you’ve not got a badge and you’ve not got a hat or a jacket. you’ve not got a radio and you holster no weapon.

he doesn’t have to worry. you don’t look like you could hurt a fly— and he loosens his grip on the knife, but he doesn’t let go of it completely. just in case. he needs to be cautious.

“who are you?” you sound cold. very cold. maybe you’re cautious too. what if you knew marienne and that’s why you’re acting like he’s scum? like he shouldn’t be here? maybe you think that he was some fling that she had and maybe you do this with every single person who comes to her apartment: interrogate them.

“i’m joe.” he breathes out. maybe he has to seem like a fling to get you to go away. because you can’t find out that he killed her but he doesn’t want to kill you. he likes you already. he likes your scent already. you may be the one.

“what are you doing here? are you— are you fucking her?” you gesture into the building, because he’s in the doorway and he won’t let you in any further. you’re stuck on the outside so he can’t see the mess that he made on the floor.

you do know marienne. he works that out quickly. you must be a friend if you know where she lives, because she wouldn’t give away that information freely. she was a closed off person. and she didn’t trust a lot of people after she found out who joe was and what he did to his ex wife.

but then does that mean you know him? she may have told you about what he did and he can’t have that— but so far? everything seems fine.

“yes.” it’s an awkward sort of yes. it’s the sort that he blurted out but the sort that also makes sense, in some other light. like he didn’t actually want you to know but he’s saying it anyway. but in this case? it’s the only thing that he can say. the only thing that will get you out of here.

“for fuck’s sake.” he knows you’re mad. you grit your teeth together and you turn away for a second, and he’s analysing you. trying to see if he can find any indication on where you live or what you do for a living, so maybe he could find your workplace and then follow you home.

you’re both standing in an awkward silence for a moment or two. he seems to not know what to say and he’s sure that you’re searching and scrambling for words but can’t quite seem to find them.

“just— tell her i was here, i guess. i found something that she might have wanted to look at and—“ you pause for a moment, glancing him up and down. “you shouldn’t be hearing this. you don’t need to know all the gory details. just— tell her, okay?” you keep your eyes on him.

you’re not making a request. you’re making a demand, and he has to admit that he likes it. he likes your personality. the way you talk. he wants more of you and your attention but he’s stuck dealing with the dead body and he won’t be able to catch up to you that quickly.

“of course.” he smiles. he has to be charming. he has to act charming because he doesn’t want you to get suspicious when the two of you have only just met.

you’re the one to turn and leave, and he appreciates that. he didn’t want to shut the door on you, but now he’s able to do it because he doesn’t feel like he’s rejecting you. and the smell of your blood? fuck. he could bathe in that if he had the opportunity. he’s surprised he restrained himself.

he makes so much effort to try and find you the next day. he goes everywhere. he wanders the streets and he stays near the apartment building that marienne lived in, just in case you decide to go back. but he has no luck. he can’t find you.

so he’s incredibly lucky when you find him.

you knock on the door of his apartment and he’s honestly shocked. he doesn’t know why you’re here but he doesn’t care, because it’s you.

you don’t even let him say a word before you speak. “hi. joe, right? you were the one who answered the door for marienne because you were apparently fucking her.” your words are cold. you’re angry. he can tell. but you’re holding back.

“yeah. that’s me. is there anything i can help you with?” of course he’s acting like everything’s okay. because everything is okay. you just need to see that. maybe you found out she died and you’re coming to question him about it. maybe that’s your job. maybe you are a police officer.

“where is she?” you cross your arms over your chest as you snap out the question, your eyes locked onto his own. “were you so bad that she decided to just disappear? again? or is she dead? did you kill her?” you step closer, almost getting in his personal space.

he almost recoils— but he just manages to hold back the temptation of doing so.

and then you storm past him and into his apartment. he wanted to meet you again, but being accused of killing her? no, this isn’t how he wanted to see you again. he wanted it to be some sort of romantic thing. something that could turn into a first date and then eventually a relationship.

“please, calm down.” he closes the door because he assumes you’re not going anywhere anytime soon. he needs to act like he has no clue. “what are you talking about? what do you mean she’s disappeared?” he steps towards you.

“i’ve been calling and texting her for ages and she hasn’t responded to me. so i decided to— well— go into her apartment.” you’re speaking fast. as if you don’t want him to hear that bit. “and she’s gone. she’s not taken anything with her and she usually does when she goes out so— she’s missing. and you’re the last one who saw her.”

“i’m not. she has other friends, doesn’t she? maybe she wanted a change of scenery, or something. she can’t be dead. or missing.” he has to act like he cares. but he really doesn’t. not anymore.

“are you going to let me look around your apartment or not? because i have an official license and if you try to stop me, then i’ll have to report you.” so you are some sort of detective.

it doesn’t matter to him. he’s just more determined to get to you now. sink his teeth into you and get your blood, maybe. it’s been bugging him all night and all day. and now you’re here and he just wants to go ahead and do it.

“go ahead.” he gestures forward, as if urging you to go and look through his things. why is he simply going along with it? maybe he’s not hiding anything. maybe you only think he is because you’re paranoid and you want to protect your friend.

you look around for an hour or so. he’s honestly impressed, because he’s not sure how you went so long without getting bored.

“okay. you may have been right— she might just have wanted a change of scenery.” you rub the back of your neck sheepishly and turn to face him. “i can’t find anything that says that you did anything to her so… sorry. for all the chaos. i know it’s early. i just worry about her. she told me there was this guy who was hunting her down ages ago and— i just thought that might have been you.”

he shrugs, stepping closer to you. but really? he cares that you apologised. he’s glad that you did. because now you can build a real relationship. or friendship. or whatever you need to do first.

“i don’t mind. i get it. i had a girlfriend in the past who felt the same.” he offers a smile to you.

you do know it was him though. because you found the teeth and you found the necklace and you know that it was her’s. but this was your plan. worm your way into his life and then make him regret everything he had ever done to hurt her.

but maybe you don’t realise that he’s already onto you.

[fallloverfic]

Thoughts on To Be Hero X Episode 4: The Commoner

Well that was an interesting episode!

Inertia is still such a wonderful song. So is Paragon, Nice's theme. The different animation styles were again beautiful to watch.

I felt so bad for him. He's so defeated. He wants to help Moon so badly.

Blankster's ability to erase memories coupled with punching stuff hard felt really random until you realize that's his whole thing: erasing the knowledge of his past and hiding the reality (of him putting metal in his gloves). Treeman, I assume, got people to believe him into having those specific abilities by making him essentially a cleaner? I guess? I don't know. How specific abilities are brought about is a bit of a mystery. Maybe possibility manifests and trust encourages it to varying degrees of strength.

It was a bit distracting hearing "iron fist" and trying to not think of the Marvel Comics character lol

Lin Ling's fight is so wonderful. He pushes so hard for the person he cares about. And I do love the strong message that anyone can be a hero. Firefighters (as with Firm Man) don't need superpowers to be heroes: they run into burning buildings and rescue people all the time (sometimes when it's dangerous). Someone standing up to someone else threatening to kill someone doesn't need a superpower to stand up. To win, maybe, depending on the circumstances, but to stand up? To say no? You don't need a superpower for that. You can just be a normal person to look a wrong in the face and go, "No. I won't let this stand. I may die fighting it, but I go down doing what's right." Or, to quote J. Michael Stracznyski in “Amazing Spider-Man” #500, "What matters is you go down fighting… and you go down clean.”

It was also really funny when Lin Ling punched Enlighter's shirt off alkdjladjlaj

The audience reaction is very interesting. They expected rules to be followed here. Why isn't the Commission doing something? That's just an ordinary guy, there are rules here. So it seems like people are aware there's an aspect of performance to this. The actors are the heroes, playing along to the tune set by followers. (Or they just reasonably don't think an ordinary dude can win against a guy with superpowers and expect an actual super-powered person to show up and get Lin Ling out of there and save Moon instead). Makes the fact people can get literally murdered all the weirder, though in reality we do have plenty of people who treat lives like reality television. The number of folks who expect laws to be self-enforcing is, well...

It's nice to know those of us assuming it was a fake Moon were right, though it's funny in a way that even the great Enlighter couldn't find her (assuming he tried, though it was a risky gambit: after all, for all he knew, they could have contacted her to make sure she was safe, though he did have the backup plan of revealing Lin Ling's identity). I guess his abilities were brought to a standstill by hers, in that instance? He can find things but she went to a place where nobody knew her?

I know KFC is really big in China, and maybe this has been shown somewhere else, but I think it's really funny X is a KFC mascot.

He really is that younger hot Colonel Sanders from the Genshin Impact promotion.

The ad art is really beautiful (the official twitter posted a fuller shot of it). If anyone reading this has found the actual art that's used for this without the extra stuff, let me know. Lin Ling looks great.

I'm not averse to the title, either. I get the idea is "he's just some guy". I just think it's kind of funny because that's true for... literally everyone lol I assume some of these folks come from money, which probably helped them get trust (easier to get spotlight if you have the time, resources, and connections), but I think it's funny Lin Ling is getting special focus as the True Commoner lol

I feel so bad for Moon, trapped on a deserted island. How horrible. This show is all just "what if we took some of the worst ways this idea (e.g., wishes worded badly) could be acted out and that was reality?"

I like the new outfit. It looks really pretty. Love me a good white/black aesthetic, and his little hair stripe looks even better outside the ED.

This does raise the question: is Moon's power hers or the gun? Do people believe in the gun? Yes, these heroes use equipment a lot of the time, and people believe they can use the equipment to do magical things, but it's... interesting that Lin Ling (and presumably anyone else who gets a hold of the gun) can use it, too.

Also, why didn't he use the gun earlier lol Was everyone just too worried to think about it? Did they assume it wouldn't work because Moon was right there? The alternative is that everyone believed the fake Moon was Moon so hard that the gun only led to the fake (similar to how people believed Lin Ling was Nice so hard he became Nice) but then why didn't Lin Ling use the portal to get to Enlighter that way, or was he still stopped by the crowd telling him not to go?

But... Moon is dead now. The "preview" we saw in Episode 1 happened to be real, because she's in the same pose, same injury. I guess folks wondering if Nice/Lin Ling could see the future maybe have more crumbs for that. If he can see the future, though, why? Where does that play into his powerset? Again, if powers are random and just a matter of "you get what you get" and then the audience gives enough trust to make them stronger, maybe it's just a minor ability of his. It does beg the question if it's a Lin Ling special ability or if Nice could somehow see the future, too. Lin Ling came up with the anyone can be a hero concept, which seems to be foreshadowing. But what did Nice see if he had the ability? Did he see himself unavoidably bringing about Moon's death and tried to stop it? Or something worse?

It looks like E-Soul murdered Moon. Was he hired by Treeman to clean up loose ends? Mr. Shand wanted to wipe Moon's memories before to protect Lin Ling's identity from being shared, but that seems moot at this point. Or does Moon, who knew about Nice and Moon's fake relationship, still hold value as a target to be removed? Or, if this isn't Treeman, does E-Soul hold animus against Moon and Lin Ling for what's happened? Or is he just targeting the person who might be targeting him to rise in the ranks (given E-Soul is #9 and Lin Ling is #10 in the rankings)? Or is that the alternate version of E-Soul in his character trailer who attacks people or something?

Whatever the case, I'm sad Moon is dead. She wanted her freedom, and yet again, didn't get it, had a chance at finally being rescued... and then... that. Consequences and stakes, I guess?

I am still wondering (like I imagine a lot of people) what this from the director meant:

It actually seems to appear when Enlighter is beating up Lin Ling, especially when he says "Die die die", though the pose is more similar to this one:

Why I'm bringing this up at the end instead of in the part where I was talking about the fight: if Lin Ling snaps after Moon's death in Episode 5, maybe that's where the shot on twitter will pop up, maybe as some kind of flashback to, as folks have theorized, the Hero Smile incident. Although people have commented it's likely trolling from the director in line with previous stuff he did on Link Clink (hence why it's Enlighter who seems to be doing it, not Lin Ling or Nice), Nice is smiling in that image, and if there's some weirdness with Hero Smile's abilities that makes you smile like that, well... Plus, Moon being murdered, especially after all that Lin Ling is done, seems likely to make him snap if anything. And maybe go, "Kill them all."

Anywho. Episode 5 looks to be full of things!

More thoughts:

Episode 1, Episode 2, Episode 3, Episode 4 (You are here), Episode 5, Episode 6, Episode 7, Episode 8, Episode 9, Episode 10, Episode 11, Episode 12