#i yearn for a new life a new name a new identity

[hanibalistic]

#6F417E | EARTH-42 MILES MORALES.

genre | fluff, faint angst / reader is gn

synopsis | miles found you fainted in an alleyway one day, except you died two years ago.

word count | 2861

warning | brief mention of bullying / mentions of death (reader from earth-42 has passed) / everything i know about e-42 miles morales is from the movie 

note | i had to write something :'( it's been on my mind!

parts | one, two, three, four

Against his better judgment, Miles felt restless, and he wasn't sure if it was because of the miraculous event of you coming back from the dead or that seeing your face again made him realize how deeply he has deluded himself into thinking he had changed.  

The truth was that he hadn't changed. He merely made the decision to completely push his identity away after your death, as it was the only way to shield his fragile mind from unraveling into a pit of suicidal doom, where all he could ever think about was to follow you wherever you go, be it heaven or hell. He put his face into a mask unseen by all, not even himself, and the mask ripped itself aggressively when he saw you fainted in the dead end of an alleyway at night. You were supposed to be six feet underground—he watched you fall off a skyscraper! He watched you get put six feet underground! How were you alive?

"Shit."

Miles cursed through a frustrated groan as he pushed the covers off his body. The clock in his room enunciated each tick of a second, reminding him how long it had been since he plopped himself on the bed and tried to get some shut-eye. The ticking noise irritated his ears like chalk scraping against a blackboard, and he would have thrown something at it if you and his mother weren't around to hear the damage. Staring at the dim ceiling, he heaved a deep sigh and closed his eyes, not to get some sleep but to piece together everything that happened so far. 

First, he found you fainted in an alleyway. He brought you home and decided to hide you in his room. A person who has been dead for nearly two years coming back to life was not the easiest news to break to anybody. He managed not a whole day of concealing your existence before his mother found out when she was tidying up the dirty clothes in his room. Baffled and even a little creeped out, she helped nurse you after you woke up, which was only later that night.

Second, Miles called Uncle Aaron to help make sense of this situation, which led to him finding out that you weren't from this world at all—Miles clenched his fist as his train of thought shattered. 

He always forgot you were not the same [Name] he knew; not the childhood best friend, and not the person he harbored secret romantic feelings for. He wanted so badly for you to be them, for him to be able to turn away from the guilt of not saving you years ago. For the most part, he did. The immense joy of spending these past few days with you, albeit with a few stuttered words and clumsy movements because you were both getting used to each other, was an experience very familiar to how it used to be like with the ‘you’ he knew of. 

Miles took you everywhere upon your request, and his mother encouraged him to go out. He took you to play in the arcade, eat at the local sandwich place, and stand atop a massive neon sign advertising for a corporate brand. The only place he refused to bring you to was the skyscraper where ‘you’ died, and you didn’t push him to do so after the first time he refused. He kept himself relatively guarded these days, much like he has always been. But during the times with you, he has never felt more childish and happy. Chasing you down a crowded street and being forced to hold your hand like a leash was normalcy he forgot he deeply yearned for, and it made him happy. 

The cause of his insomnia was simple: you. More specifically, the fact that you gave him something to think about, to worry about, and to lose.

Miles exhaled with exhaustion as he got off the bed. He thought a cup of water would do him good. It could clear his head. Pushing open his room door quietly to not wake his mother, flashes of colors on the television screen greeted him immediately, accompanied by the rhythmic tilts of your head as you watched the commercials on silent. He raised a brow. You were humming a song in your head; he wondered what it sounded like. Also, you should be sleeping so you can get some rest.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“Why aren’t you?” 

“Fair ‘nuff,” Miles muttered as he walked past the couch to the kitchen. He grabbed a glass and poured himself some water when you sheepishly trailed into the area to watch him. Your stare made him uncomfortable, so he turned away from you and quickly chucked the whole cup of water down. He almost slammed the cup near the sink, stopping just before the glass could make a noise against the kitchen counter. “What?”

“I thought you have something to do tomorrow,” you said, ignoring his impatient tone. 

“Yeah? What of it?” He shrugged, focusing on cleaning the glass with tap water.

“You should get some rest, then.”

“Thanks, my insomnia is gone now.” He rolled his eyes and wiped his hands on the towel hung on a magnet stuck to the side of the fridge.

The sound of your pitter-patter footsteps followed him as he made his way out of the kitchen. You hovered around him, watching him with squinted eyes as if trying to access him. He ignored you; he found the only way to keep his emotional walls up and guarded was to ignore you as best as possible. He had missed ‘you’ so dearly that even bickering with you was an activity left to be desired, and he could not afford to want more of you than he already did. He set himself a limit, and he planned to stick with it.

“Insomnia!” you whispered with a beaming face as if he didn’t just straightforwardly tell you his problem was his inability to fall asleep. You clapped your hands and held them in front of your chest in an intertwined position. “Let me help you. I know a good way to fall asleep!”

“Being around you is not one of them,” Miles muttered.

"Don't be mean," you said through a huffed-out giggle before you made a beeline to his open room.

He closed his eyes to hold down the pit of quiet rage burning in his chest. Your spontaneity was challenging to handle. His body could keep up with you weaving in and out of crowds. If anything, he was much faster than you could ever be. But his heart could not keep up with having to follow you around constantly, his eyes trailing your back, his legs picking up their pace to go where you go, and his voice talking whenever you talk. He set himself a limit for how much he would let you into his life—

Miles returned to his room to find you sitting cross-legged on his bed, grinning at his arrival.

—and you punched past it with ease. 

"By the way, I'm sorry I have to keep wearing your clothes," you mentioned as you extended your arms, letting his sweater sleeve fall over your hands. "Your uncle's clothes are too big for me, and I don't like wearing sleep gowns."

He didn't mind. "I'll take you to get something when I'm free," he said. He planned to veto anything you wanted to keep you rummaging through his closet. 

"You're taking me shopping?" you pursed your lips into a playful smile before you smacked your face with your hands, your torso squirming about to make an even bigger mockery of the situation. "How sweet, Miles!" 

Too much ease—his walls crumbled like sandcastles under a gust of wind when he turned away from you to allow himself a chuckle. Then he caught himself. He rubbed the tip of his nose and fixed his jaw before returning to you; his less-than-menacing glare became dull and soft once his eyes filled with your reflection. He leisurely pointed at the bedroom door and almost laughed again when he demanded, "Go back to your room."

You pulled a face. He doesn’t get to tell you to do that. “No.”

"Get off my bed, then."

You thought about it for a little before you agreed. Scrambling off, you kept your arms on the edge of his bed, and your legs slumped onto the floor with the bed's support. Miles furrowed his brows when you tapped the empty spot on his bed twice, and he begrudgingly filled the space when he realized you didn't plan on leaving. 

"I got you. You're gonna fall asleep in no time!" you exclaimed quietly, touching his chest. "This helped me a lot when I have trouble sleeping."

"Pattin' your chest helps you fall asleep?" he questioned in disbelief. Then, a beat later, he fired a question with a bitter taste, "Who's touching you like this?" 

“Just me,” you replied, laying your cheek on your forearm. “Patting my chest helps me regulate my breathing, which is good for after I cry.”

He shifted his head slightly to eye you. “You cry a lot?”

“Hmm… no,” you mused. “Just when bad things happen.” 

“Like what?”

“Like these.” 

You lifted your head and raised your arm upward. Taking a break from the beat you rested on his chest, you pulled down the sleeve and flipped your forearm to his direction, showing him a short, bulging scar decorated just below your inner elbow. Miles lifted his body from the pillow and raised a brow curiously at the nasty scar, but he kept his opinion to himself. He watched as you pulled the sleeve down to cover it, and he deduced that there must be more of those injuries scattered across your body. Relaxing back onto his bed, he shrugged.

“One hell of a fall,” he commented.

“No, someone cut me,” you clarified as you leaned back onto your arm and pressed your hand to his chest again, “someone from school.”

It took him a moment to register your words and then another short moment to register the unfamiliar rage traveling through his body. This was unlike himself, unlike what he felt as the prowler. The signature thrill and trigger-happy sensation didn’t exist in this version of his anger. His fingers twitched with each jump of his thoughts, his hooded eyes scratching out an empty figure on the ceiling as if replaying the pain you must have gone through to receive that scar, and he recognized his anger as slow and steady, brooding and demonic. 

There was no use holding a grudge against someone from a universe away, but Miles thought he would kill whoever hurt you. With the right technology, he may even erase their existence forever. Never mind killing; dying, in some sense, was a blessing. What if those people were never even born? Their existence wiped off the face of Earth, reduced to nothingness, with no pictures, no songs, and no memories to preserve even a trace of their livelihood. 

“Hey, you can’t fall asleep like this.” Your voice snapped him out of his trance. “You’re being really tense, Miles.”

“That’s 'cause you’re terrible at helping people fall asleep,” he retorted as the muffling in his ears began to scatter.

You scoffed but didn’t cease the rhythmic pat on his chest. Instead, you turned your focus elsewhere. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“No.”

“What was I like?” 

He sighed. “I’m not talking about it.” 

“Fresh wound. Got it,” you said with a nod. But he knew better than to let his guard down. The smacking of your teeth was an indication of your mind gears turning—unbeknownst to him, he had your habits memorized in a span of a few days. A frown increasingly widened on your face until your mind map ended, and you hummed at the distaste in your mouth. “Were you in with love them? It feels like you were.”

He glared at you pointedly, but the intimidation passed your head as you leveled him with a curious gaze. Miles choked on his thoughts. Nothing he could do here would stop you from believing in his denial. He could turn away, ignore you, or even verbally deny your question! Nothing would have gotten you to let go of your correct assumption that he was in love with ‘you,’ and by extension, him being in love with you too.

“What made you think I was?” he asked, flipping the attention to you. 

You let out a curt giggle and sheepishly shrunk into yourself. “You’re really nice to me.”

“Because we were friends.”

“Yeah,” you mused with a grimace before you smiled. “But it’s much more interesting to think you were in love, isn’t it?”

He slapped a hand over his eyes and rubbed his face in exhaustion. “Can I sleep?”

“Of course! I’m sorry, it must be tough to have the love of your life watch you while you sleep,” you snickered with a few nods of approval directed at yourself. 

You rested one side of your cheek against the bedsheet, finally deciding to heed his plea to be quiet. Miles took your silence as a chance to close his eyes and finally relax into his headspace. The consistent pat of your palm on his chest served as a hypnotic device to lure you to sleep more than it was for him. The real lure of peace for him was more from your presence in his room and the soft humming that trailed out of your shut lips. That must have been the song you were thinking of when you watched the television on silent; Miles got it memorized after a few loops of it. 

You shifted sleepily on the floor and looked at him. You thought he didn’t look so hateful asleep as he always did. He looked at everything with such coldness, distant enough to be out of reach but close enough to justify hating everything. With you, his eyes held a sense of unwilling defeat, like he was grounding himself on the spot to keep from running to you, and he hated every minute of it even though he thought it was for his own good to shut himself out. He always looked like someone refrained from holding a loved one as they stood before him with open arms.

Your suspicion that he was in love with you from this world didn’t spawn out of nowhere. You merely knew he wasn’t ready to be confronted with his feelings, so you made a humorous joke out of it instead. But you could tell. You could always tell because nobody had ever looked at you like that before, and for once, someone’s unfamiliar eyes made you feel a centuries' worth of romance rather than torture. 

“It’s nice to know a version of me is likable,” you muttered to yourself, and you laughed. "And I thought nobody would ever fall in love with me.”

Miles laid still on his bed for a little longer, listening to the clock tick by. When your humming ceased and your hand stopped patting a beat on his chest, he opened his eyes and carefully turned his body toward your direction. He took a good look at you; his eyes brushed past those identical pair of eyes, your recognizable nose, your soft lips, the curve of your jaw, and your ears made small over his hands. A shivering breath latched at the tip of his tongue, and he had to huff through his nose to remind himself to breathe.

You didn’t wake when he carefully hooked his arm under your legs and pulled you onto his bed. He made space for you on his bed, and he made space for you in his concealed heart that once only belonged to him.

Despite the illusion, his mind knew who you were, but his heart couldn’t pick apart the differences. Except it wasn’t as easy as it seemed. This wasn’t about how you both looked and sounded the same. This was about him and his feelings. This was about him having fallen in love with you before, and now, as he felt his shattered heart piecing itself together through the mere sight of your sleeping face, he was about to do it again. His heart knew you were different, and it did not care. He was ready to fall in love with you again, and he was ready to fall in love with you anywhere.

Because the moon never stops orbiting around the sun. Because Miles chose to let go of himself instead of letting go of the love he has for you. Because he would fall in love with you every time, and he would choose you over himself every time. 

“What do you even know,” he touched your cheek with the back of his knuckles, “about people falling in love with you?”

What do you even know about Miles Morales falling in love with you?

He hugged you close and shut his eyes.

You knew absolutely nothing. 

[tonixe]

FAME

A/N: Ideas are blooming out of nowhere, low-key this is a lot to unpack, make sure to read the warning and if your uncomfortable, don't read it, I hope you guys having a blessed day today, xoxo, there might be a part two.

WARNING: p in the v, penetration, unprotected sex, coercion, abuse of power, cheating, objectification, misogyny, reader being a sex symbol, abuse drugs, mentions of alcohol/drinking, abuse, non-con to dub-con, drugging, usage of cigarettes, Viewer discretion is advised...

PAIRING: President!coriolanus x singer!reader

WORD COUNTER: 4.0k

Fame is a word that represents many things: dream coming true,, all-the-world luxury opening up, money funneling up, and all the reasons to climb up to the top of the food chain. Becoming the apex predator, a name..NOBODY can wipe off, you're initially written on a golden star, your name carved into history, your identity being remembered.

The recognition of your voice, your face, your personality being known to a single name, all of your greatness tied together into one body, one soul, something that doesn't grow on trees. It was fame you desired, that your heart yearned for putting all your time, and energy into a puzzle that fits into the right corner of your life. You wanted to live forever, you wanted to fly up join the ones who inspired and gave you the drive to work, you wanted to make it, make it to that heaven.

People looking at you, you wanted them to cry in desperation to get your attention, you wanted them to remember your name for history, into textbooks something that can never go away so easily, carved into people's brains...that what you dreamed of, lights flashing in your eyes, the glaring hurting you bit of bit, but this what you worked for to be recognize by the ones above, holding onto a golden trophy you won by yourself, you felt like you made it. On a stage, a platform, where the camera flashed you. Your image being printed on the news, your appearance being broadcasted to the media, fans screaming your name from the outside, important people looking at you, impressed. This was your moment, you learned how to fly, and you worked for it. Your identity being secured into history...they have to remember, but...why weren't you not happy, not secure.

Growing out of the district scum, becoming a household name, rising up to the Capitol, and earning identity there...now you sat at the vanity looking at the mirror before one of your shows, one of the makeup artists painting your lips in a rouge color, your e/c eyes looking into the mirror. You would always dream of this moment coming to life, your mother braiding your hair, humming one of your childhood songs. She, herself wanted to be a singer but couldn't because of her status and pregnancy, though living in the district..you had a wonderful home, one that wasn't broken, but one in a broken society, where people in the district were given the name of disgust by the highly 'elevated' individuals in the Capitol.

You wanted to leave, bring your family, and give them a home they deserved as much as you. You hated the district and hated you had an up-bringing there.

A flash of nostalgia ran through your mind being interrupted by a tech, "Y/N, 30 minutes before showtime" You listened to the announcement, flickering your eyes away from the staffer, and you raised your hands up, stopping the makeup artist from moving her brush. "Could you leave the room?" you said, listening to the footsteps receding away from you.

You took out a flask, screwed the lid open, and taking a swig of the bitter liquid, the burning and painful sensation coursing down your throat. Your chest heaving, putting your hands on the vanity table gripping the table, closing your eyes, biting down on your lip. Anxiety bubbling in your chest, looking up at yourself in the mirror, it felt like a million things running through your mind. You manage to slip away from the thought by the knocks on the door, turning your head at the sound, the door clicking open..."Y/N, 5 minutes to Showtime" One of the staffers said, giving yourself one last look, getting up from the vanity, fixing up your hair. The clicks of your heels on the porcelain tiles, tech staffers giving you a mic, and earpiece, as your makeup team fixes up your face and hair, finish up the last touches.

You were ridden with anxiety, butterflies flying in your stomach with every step you took, each leading you closer to the stage, where important people stood, you were going to sing to for celebration of the 15th hunger games, you took breaths in between your steps, fuck..you really need a cigarette.

Listening to your cue, smoothing your off-the-shoulder red velvet dress. "You're up," one of the techs said, tapping your shoulder, slipping you away from your head, as you nodded and cleared your throat. Walking onto the stage, you felt eyes on you..everywhere, setting yourself behind the microphone stand, closing your eyes, as the music started playing, the melody of the piano, the keys bringing in the familiar tune, as the band began to play following the notes of the leading piano.

Your hands on the microphone. Feeling the heat of the stage light hitting your form, making you wince.

Formation of words slipping from your lips as it became a symphony into the song, your voice dancing with the delicate notes of the piano.

The angelic voice coming from your lips, the words slipping out of your mouth, enchanting the audience. The feeling of anxiety leaving your system, as you pour your heart into the piece, every note you hit brings you relax, flickering your eyes open, glancing to the audience staring at your elevated form. The orchestra of people, filled with important and big shots in the Capitol, staring at you, enchanted with your voice, your eyes following up.

To the balcony, as you felt the end of the song, your eyes looking at the familiar figure on the balcony boxes, your eyes slightly widen as you made eye contact with the gentleman...Coriolanus Snow, the president of Panem. You felt your heart drop at the figure, feeling your vocal cords stretching as you hit a high note finishing the song, you maintained eye contact. as the band played the outro, with your voice leading off,

Finally notes ending it off, as you heard a rain of applause ringing to your ears, looking at the President of Panem raising his hands and clapping for you..you bowed down, your head turning up, giving a glance up at the President.

Walking off the stage backstage, "Fuck, give me a cigarette, now!" you exclaimed, as one of the assistants gave you a box, putting a stick on your lips, as she gives you a lighter, igniting up the end of the cigarette. Blowing a cloud of smoke through your nose, walking down to your stage room combing your hair, trying to relieve your stress, sitting down on the vanity chair. Placing the cancer stick between your lips, leaning in the seat..."You were breathtaking out there" You immediately turned your head to the voice, Coriolanus walked in, closing the door, his hands in his pockets.

"Mr. President" You stood up from the chair, pushing your dress, and smashing the burning cigarette in the ashtray. "You don't need to stand up," He stated, you felt butterflies in your stomach. You didn't want to sit back down since you were afraid to disrespect the leader of the nation. You heard his footsteps inching closer to you, "Where did you learn to sing like that?" He asked, circling around your figure. You would have never dreamt for this to happen to you, "My mother taught me" You answered shortly, your eyes lingering on your hand. "I bet your mother was a gorgeous singer as you" He responded, glancing at you, you giggled at the comment, "She was.." you responded,

He watches your facial expression saddened, "Looks like you and me have something in common...already" he lightly chuckles, walking to the bar cart, your eyes following him hesitantly, glancing at your hands. "Drink?" He offers, you nod. His fingers circled the opening of the cup, taking out two cups and placing in on the counter of the table, pouring the mahogany liquid into the cups. Taking the liquid-filled cups and offering the cup to you, as you took the glass.

The cool cup touched your palm, "Cheers" He said, lifting the cup towards you, gesturing a cheer. Lifting your glass slightly before taking a sip of the mahogany liquid.

Smiling to yourself as you drank, glancing up at the gentleman. "If I can ask..why are you visiting me, President" You held the cup slightly tighter, "I wanted to offer you something," He said, his body moving closer to you. He saw as your eyes lit up in excitement, making him chuckle at the sight, his hands lifting your chin up slightly, his fingers caressing your cheek, your lips parting looking up at his crystal blue eyes.

"I need you to use that pretty voice of yours at a ceremony I'm hosting" He tilts your head to the side, admiring your face your eyes to your nose and lips, "You'll be of course paid in full, and suitable one indeed..so you won't have to use that pretty head" he brushes a strand of hair over your ear, "So..what do you think?" He said, withdrawing his hands away from you. You felt your heart pumping, as you thought about it, not wanting to take too long, but you nodded at his words, "Good, I'll send letters and updates on it" He finishes, before he finishes the whiskey in his cup till it was gone, putting the glass down. Taking your hand and leaving a kiss on the back of your hand, "But for now..I'll have to take my leave" He said, you took your hand away from him. Your eyes followed him, you couldn't formulate any words to him but nodded as he gave you a final look goodbye. The click of the door leads you into reality.

Putting your hand on your heart, feeling it beating against your chest.

Time slipped by..days to months

You got the letters, reading them in your penthouse resigning in Capitol. Some of them weren't just business but Coriolanus writing to you. His words made you smile, though from the short time you met him, but you were grateful he came to you.

Under his influence made you thrive, your fame, and notoriety spreading...

Playing with your hair as you read every single word on the page. You did follow out with his words, performing once again at one of his parties.. fixing up your hair, puffing your hair up, and turning yourself in the mirror, at the red satin dress Coriolanus gifted you. Smoothing the fabric out near your stomach, looking at yourself in the mirror. Hearing footsteps coming into the room, as you turned, relaxing at the sight of Coriolanus.

He was wearing his signature suit, a bloody red suit with a white tucked-in shirt. In his hand was a bouquet of red roses, "For you" He gave you the bouquet of roses, holding them to your chest. "Thank you" you smiled at him, as you smelt the roses, glancing at him. A smirk painted on his lips, his hands lifting your head, "Make sure you use that pretty voice of yours, my dove..." He whispered as you felt his hands on your waist, making your cheeks flushed.

Though you never had the time to learn more about Coriolanus, your heart yearned for him, the more he talked and sent letters to you. You never really thought about how he was touchy with you, though you enjoyed it...you always felt anxious when your with him.

You hear your name being called, as you place the bouquet of roses in one of the staffer's arms, telling them to put them in a vase for you, glancing at Coriolanus form, as you smile at him. Your heels clicking onto the tile, walking down to the stage, your ears listening to the rain of applause as you walk to the mic. Your stomach was filled with butterflies but you looked to the side, and your eyes caught the sight of Coriolanus smiling at you. Your eyes flickered from him, as you smiled.

You opened your lips, familiar angelic notes coming out of your lips. Singing your emotion out as it sympathizes with the melody, holding the mic as your voice leads to the chorus. Your eyes sparkle in the spotlight, singing your heart out into a simple melody, enchanting as it was, given by the audience's eyes staring at you. Something that you made you sweat and have butterflies swirling in your stomach, anxious assume you bit by bit, but it was always washed away when you thought of the rewarding end you were going to get.

Word slipping from you, pouring your soul and heart out to the listening audience, as they watched you, leading into the interlude and to the climax, your voice projecting to the audience as you sang the last parts as the piano lead off with your voice. The rain of applauses, the sound of clapping made you smile as you bow down, the spotlight never leaving you. Your heart was still pounding but you smile through it. Walking from the stage to the backstage, being greeted by Coriolanus, "You were heavenly" He whispered to you, you relaxed, smiling at him. "Thank you" you felt your cheeks warming up at his praise.

His hands dancing on your waist, leaning towards you, "Let's get out of here" He whispers to you, taking your hand into his, "W-wait, don't you have to stay here, President.." You stuttered, "I have a more important thing to do" He whispered in your ear, hearing a smirk in his voice as he took your hand.

Leading you out of the theatre, feeling the wind through your hair, parting your lips at the night sky, the stars sparkling in the dark sky. As he led you to the chauffeur, opening the car door for as you enter, the door clicking besides you as he got onto the left side of the car. He said the chauffeur something that you couldn't decipher. You felt yourself sweating and your heart quicken the slight tension in the air, as you felt the car moving. You didn't know how to react or what to do, your eyes darting everywhere expect him, glancing at him, his eyes glance at you, you looked away from him. You felt his hand touching your thigh, feeling him slightly gripping it. "Are you scared?" You felt your throat getting dry, your eyes looking everywhere expect his, his fingers grazing underneath your upper thigh, your eyes darting to his hand, before him. "No.." you respond.

"If your aren't..why are you afraid of me?" He mutter, "I-i just never been in this situation before" You cleared your throat, a awkward giggles leaving your throat, putting your hand over his hand.

"So...your a virgin?" He said, you are frozen in your seat, words unable to leave your lips, hesitantly nodding at him, giggling at his comment. "So, you still have your thorns...untouched, innocent, unripe " His body inching closer to you, "Funny how Panem sex symbol, is a virgin isn't it?" He chuckled, and you reluctantly laughed with him, naive as you were, you did know what would happen if you followed him. Needless to say, your heart was thumping, feeling the car stopping as the chauffeur said something. "We're here" He muttered, you felt thankful for that moment in time, his hands withdrawing from you, as you both got out of the car.

Your eyes looked at the new environment you were in, the manor was huge, something that only existed with old money, and it was beautiful with the pillar adoring the house. He chuckled with your eyes exploring the house, "Follow" He ordered, as you obeyed, following him inside. The Peacekeepers guarding the manor opened the big door and you both walked into a more beautiful interior.

"It's gorgeous" Your looked up at the chandelier glittering in the lights, "I'm glad you like it" He smiled at you, his footsteps receding from you, as you followed him further into the manor, everything was captivating, something you would only find at the capitol. You were taken from your thought by his words, as he spoke out to you...you realized where he took you, the parlor. You immediately sat on the sofa, it was comfortable and soft, "Drink?" he offered, his luxurious leather shoes on the delicate tile, "Sure" you nodded, your eyes lingering on your hands in your lap, "What type?" He asked, "Anything" You quickly answered, and you deep inhaled and exhaled through your nose. "Have you tried Bourbon?" He asked you heard the glass on the wooden counter.

"No, never bourbon..I'm more of a Jack Daniels girl" You awkwardly giggled, and he poured the caramel liquid into the short glasses, your eyes dawdling on your hands. Before you heard his footstep coming closer to you, offering you a glass, you took it. "Thank you" you smiled, the cool caramel liquid swishing in the glass, looking at him, gesturing a 'cheers', you nodded, looking at the liquid before consuming the liquid till nothing was in the glass. The liquid was sweet, and bitter due the its alcoholic nature but was satisfying. "It's really good" You put your hand on your lip, smiling, a smirk on his lips, "I told you," He said, as he sipped the liquid.

"It's sweet, like vanilla" You beamed, he nodded at your words, your angelic voice dripping from your lips, feeling a buzzing noise in your ear, everything moving slowly around you. Your vision blurring, "Y-yeah" your words slurred, your eyes getting heavy. Blinking, before closing your eyes as you felt everything go black,

Your eyes fluttered open, your body was frozen.. you couldn't feel your legs, fingers, or moving your head. You felt cold, bare...lewd sounds engulfing your ears. Your eyes darted to the ceiling, parting your lips, you heard grunts coming near you.

Your irises slowly look forth, you felt cold, ice cold... your heart dropping at the scene. A half-naked Coriolanus on you, his hands groping every part of exposed skin. Your dress was ripped, the one he gifted you. Your boob spilled out, displayed for him, his dick dragging into you. You were frozen still.

You wanted to scream, cry, but only hoarse noises escaping your throat, tears escaping your eyes slipping away staining your cheek. Your awakening wasn't unnoticed by Coriolanus, "You awake" Your eyes stared at his form, forcing himself inside of you. Sweat dripped off his forehead as his hands touched your skin, it felt like stabs everywhere. Betrayal settled in, it was quite naive of you, letting a man you never had the chance for yourself to know, allowing the intimate touches on your body.

You got the hint, but you ignored them purposely, maybe it was a warning for him to stop or continue..you didn't know what to think. The act of being vulnerable in front of him was a mistake, his moans and groans snapping you out of thought. You felt bile rising in your throat, you wanted to vomit, throw up, cry...but you could merely just listen and stare at the atrocities being committed. It hurt everywhere hurts, "Fuck, you feel so good around me" he groans, a sickening smirk on his lips..." please" you manage to force out from your throat, you felt tears pricking up on your waterline.

He laughed at your simple words, "please what?" he sneered, "stop" You had some type of hope in you... your lack of formulating sentence made him laugh pitifully, "Sorry my dove, it's just an exchange, company policy" his fingers caressing your cheek, as you stared in disbelief at his words. Whether you were angry, shocked, or sad, you didn't know what to believe or to know or to do. You just laid there taking the bit of pain, of his assault. "Why... I-I never asked for anything,, Corio" you sniffled, you purposely let the nickname slip, hoping it made him have a little humanity still left inside of him to stop, his hands gripping onto your waist, making you groan in pain, "I gave you everything, without my influence, your just be a lowly singer in Capitol born to be overshadowed by other more talented people, more younger, more pretty.., better than that lowly voice you from with..." He reduced you to tears, the more he talked, wet tears dripping from your eyes, he laughed.

He was mocking you.

"Did you just think, people just liked your voice... I thought you knew better than that...your looks pays off for your lack of personality" He kept on talking, and you hoped he would just stop and shut up, but the little words coming from him, made you cry.

"Besides...just be a good girl, and take it, will you..." He murmured.

His haunting groans and moans left his lips, staring into blankness. You wanted to hate the assault, but the agonizing pain turns into pleasure due to your discontent. The blooming sensation made you moan, and you arched your back in bliss, "I told you...you would bend into my touch" he whispered, nestling his head in the curve of your neck, his lips marking kisses from your neck to your collarbone, "Your take me so well" He smirks...

Time drifted away from you, you wanted to forget what happened between you and Coriolanus, but he wouldn't allow it, he still sent letters and gifts to your home... every time you looked at the address you felt like vomiting, crying, screaming. You still performed, you couldn't allow some fling to prevent you from maintaining what is important to you, your career. But months passed, and you stared at yourself in the mirror, you were visibly getting bigger, around your abdomen area. When Coriolanus demanded your presence you would obey and go, and it would always lead to intimacy...but now you are in his bed once again, stripped bare. His hands danced around your collarbone as you sat in his lap, his fingers playing with your hair, leaving kisses against your skin.

You felt like you were caged, with only yourself to talk to, though you already knew, beforehand. But you never felt so alone when your accompanied by Coriolanus, you debated on telling him the news, or keeping it to yourself but he was bound to know. He has eyes and ears around the Capitol, the districts, and all over Panem, you had no safe opinion left.

"Coriolanus.." He stopped mid-way, his eyes staring at you, yours forward. "I'm pregnant" the words slipped out of your throat, "It's yours" you finished, finally looking him in the eye...he didn't move or react, it made you scared, before he smiled, marking a kiss on your shoulder. "You would be a good mother" His hands shifted from your collarbone to your stomach, rubbing it gently. You didn't know how to feel, part of you didn't want any of it, forced by the pregnancy and burden of having a child you didn't want.

You were scared of confessing to him, leaning to his touch, you felt yourself being vulnerable around him, "Will, we marry?" Your eyes flickered to his, before he took your hand into his palm, rubbing your ring finger, "What would you prefer, a ruby or diamond" He said playfully, "Whatever you think is perfect for me" You replied, your eyes shifting from him to the color stained window, it was snowing. You felt his lips on your neck, nuzzling his head in the crevice of your neck.

TIME

It passed, the ring on your finger...your eyes hazy, looking at yourself in the mirror, you felt humiliated in yourself. White dust stained on your nose, feeling the light of your feet, pleased with the drug taking its effect. You were wearing your wedding dress, it was white, lacy, and poofy. Dried tears smudging your cheeks, you really hated yourself, a white veil hiding from the mirror...you desired to drink yourself away in alcohol, the only thing you could do, but due to Coriolanus surveillance he wouldn't allow it, not the mother of his child to harm herself or the baby, he made sure to hide everything that could possibly harm you or the child. Sending you away in your shared chambers, where you sulked and waited for him.

Your legs moving under your weight, a random man who was supposed to be your father, holding your arm. Leading down the aisle, superficial people around you, examining you, staring... judgment on their faces.

You're used to it, as the gentleman left you before your future husband, Coriolanus. You strolled up the stairs, your eyes locking with Coriolanus, who gave you a smile. His hands taking yours, your eyes lifted to his, before the priest said some words that you blurred out, staring at Coriolanus. The only one that stuck with you was, "You may kiss the bride" He said, Coriolanus flipping the veil, revealing your face, as he kissed you, you closed your eyes.

Hearing applause from the audience withdraws from his lips. "You'll be a wonderful wife" He fixed your veil, rubbing your hands.

You just nodded and smiled, knowingly signing yourself to him, throwing the key, and selling yourself, your soul, your rights, and your body to him alone..you wished to just rewind time and never lock eyes with him in the theatre.

The mere thought made you tear up, as tears managed to escape..and Coriolanus came to your rescue and wiped them away.

© 2023 tonixe, do not repost, copy, translate, or sell my work.

[tiredmamaissy]

hey 👋

i think this is the longest i've been gone. i missed you all a lot. i've been writing this entire time, and wanted to finish the last (for now, it’s definitely not completed) two chapters of the ralak series before officially coming back. i didn't want to come back without some sort of peace offering (lol how could i come back empty handed?) and i don’t want to leave you guys hanging again, gotta give some sort of closure to this series!

i'm almost finished, but i felt like i needed to come on here and explain myself.

i've been really struggling with my mental lately. it's just been pretty bad, to be frank. and when i get like this, i find it extremely difficult to juggle all that life entails, and will typically neglect certain aspects of it just to get by. unfortunately, this, and my social life, have taken the biggest hit. i find it hard to keep in touch regularly with friends, and i end up just retreating into my shell. motivation becomes little, or nothing at all.

i don't want to go into too much detail, but i've found myself between a rock and a hard place. i don't feel like i have many options in my current situation. i feel trapped. i suppose i've felt this way for the past few years, but it's just been pretty bad recently. issy has been an escape for me. i created a ‘new’ identity, one that i could unapologetically be myself. no face to the name type of thing. i fell in love with pandora, yearning to go there. and suddenly, my ideal world--my ideal everything was at my fingertips.

when i first started, the feeling of regaining my identity after so many years was exhilarating. i put many, many things on the back burner to immerse myself into this feeling and this world. quicker meals, shorter showers, later bedtimes. i did any and everything to dedicate as much time as i could muster up to hold onto this new identity. i could feel myself becoming happier, slipping back into who i was before i lost her.

but life just happens. you know? it continued, and it did so ten-fold. it was one thing after the next, and soon my plate was so full that i had to take something off of it. i guess i'm used to choosing myself to neglect first, so i told myself i'd put this off until i could get through this and then come back. so i did, and i came back. then life happened again. so i left, and came back.

but this time around life hit me hard. i felt like i was playing a game on the hardest difficulty, with a half a life, no pauses, and no way to exit safely. i'm still playing that game, but i've realised that i should really try to make the most of it. so i've been writing in what time i have. it's been one of my biggest escapes and it makes me happy that i can share it, and see that others enjoy what my silly brain comes up with.

i'm ready to come back, but i'm honestly still really overwhelmed with life. i really, really don't want to disappoint anyone…and i can't promise that i won't leave again anytime soon. i never want to leave. and honestly, i don't think i'll ever really leave for good. i will forever love avatar, and all that it’s done for me for the past 14 years. i guess i’m just trying to say… thank you all for your patience and love.

okidoki, let me stop here while i can lol.

ill be posting the chapters as soon as i'm done with them, ofc. i love you guys!! i’m heading to bed and will try to clear out my inbox and dm’s asap

-issy 💜

[wear-this-for-me-sweetie]

Alice.

One way I experience my gender identity is through the feeling of being a long way from home. My whole life I've yearned to 'go back' to being the real female me. Sometimes the feeling has been overwhelming, other times more subtle, most times somewhere in between.

I've toyed with the idea of transitioning several times over the years, and finally decided that I'm not going to take that step. The reason is that I have established a whole life far away from female me, and uprooting that would come at a personal, social, emotional and relational cost too great to bear.

I'm really enjoying expressing my female self in many ways, and will continue to develop that. While doing so I won't just live with that sense of yearning, I'll own it and try to enjoy that too. I have so much to be thankful for, I've reconciled myself to my decision not to transition, and I won't focus on what I can't have.

Whenever I fully dress up, I truly feel like I'm in Wonderland. But unlike Alice, I don't find it confusing; it makes all the sense in the world to me. And with that in mind, I've decided to adopt the name Alice. I previously went by the name Dani, but, new chapter, new name, and I'll stick with Alice from here on in.

Thank you to all of my friends and followers here, and to those whose blogs I follow for inspiration who don't even know I exist.

Here's to your journey!

Lots of love to you all,

Alice xxx

[starmocha]

calling your name Dawnbreaker/MC, implied Zayne/MC | 1506 words | AO3 The jasmine was about to blossom. A/N: I haven’t written anything in 2 years due to reasons, so lol IDK what I’m doing. I was also supposed to be working on a different LNDS ficlet, but Dawnbreaker called, so I answered, because I love him lots and want to give him the universe. Slight divergence from the end of the anecdote.

On a window sill, a small pot housing an unflowered jasmine plant was meticulously cared for as its owner waited for the first blossoms.

He saw the girl in his dreams again.

He did not dare utter her sweet name, let alone think it, for it caused him to ache and yearn for her, someone who would forever be beyond his reach across time and space.

He had gone on years and years, watching her from afar in his dreams. It felt so wrong, this feeling of voyeurism, forced to see the object of his affection with that other man, this being who shared his likeness and name, but they were not the same person.

While that other man lived freely, carrying the revered title of doctor, an angel on earth who saved countless lives with his scarred hands, he was his opposite.

He walked in shadows, evading police as he took numerous lives with his ice-cold hands. One could argue he was an angel of mercy, appearing to those who knew they were on the brink of losing the last remnants of their humanity. He himself saw nothing of the sort, only knowing he was shackled to this fate of walking the earth alone, bearing the burden of taking doomed lives to protect the still living. To some, he was the Grim Reaper, appearing in his dark clothes, expressionless, as he swiftly took the lives waiting for him. Others knew him as Dawnbreaker, the callous serial killer who left behind nothing of his victims to show that they ever existed.

He himself was just Zayne. The names, titles, and monikers bestowed upon him meant nothing to the young man, who had no one in his life to even call for him or remember him. He was used to silence, to the solitude, understanding that this was his fate.

He lived in purgatory, moving like clockwork and seeing neither joy nor sadness in this monotone world. When nightfall descended, he escaped to heaven where the girl was. Never alone, she was always happily side-by-side with the doctor. He stole glimpses of her smiles, pocketing them as if they were his and his alone. How pitiful of him, to relish in something that was not for him.

He learned not to care, to savor what little joy he was able to greedily take for himself. He lived this way for years, as a voyeur, a thief, an imposter.

When the day came the girl saw him within their dreamscape, he did not know how to react. He stilled, her words left him shaken inside:

“You…aren’t Dr. Zayne. Who are you?”

He didn’t know what to tell her. He didn’t know what to do in this moment. For as long as he could remember, she was always within reach in his dream ever since that fated night so long ago when he was a child. Now, she was here, in front of him, seeing him.

I can’t lose her. I can’t lose her. I can’t—

And then he felt an unfamiliar warmth on his cheek. Her hand caressed his face, memorizing the shape and feel of him that was near identical to the doctor, but perhaps in her eyes alone they were not.

“Why do you look so sad?”

He looked mildly surprised. He searched within him for words, for his voice, unprepared for this sudden moment of being able to speak with her at last. The seconds that felt like eternity to him ended with one simple phrase: “Do I?”

She nodded once and then she disappeared, and he awakened in a cold sweat.

She saw him. She touched him. She spoke to him.

What did it mean? He didn’t know, didn’t have an answer or theory to this new development.

He touched his cheek, her warmth still lingering. The only thing he knew was that he needed to see her again, hoping and praying that she wouldn’t disappear, that she would speak to him once more.

The next night, she appeared before him again, and just like the previous time, she saw him.

“What’s your name?”

He hesitated, but he answered her, “Zayne.”

She looked surprised, but she didn’t act on it. Instead, she smiled and introduced herself. He almost wanted to laugh in incredulous amusement at the situation, having known her name already from so long ago. He restrained his amusement, and he smiled back. “Pleased to meet you.”

They crossed path again, and again, and again. Each time, without hesitation, her eyes lighted with joy for him.

For him.

Him.

He didn’t dare to feel happiness, unsure if he was even deserving of such feelings. But he smiled. He greeted her smiles with his, feeling peace in the moments with her.

He wished he could dream forever, to always have her by his side until the end of time itself.

He no longer envied the doctor, no longer stole moments that were not his to take.

The dream world had changed, molding into bustling cities long ago full of parks, restaurants, and cafés for him to wander with her by his side, to create memories that were for just the two of them to share.

The smiles came naturally, his eyes focused only on her as she chatted and showed him things he did not know in his own world. He listened to her stories, hearing unfamiliar names of the people in her life, but he was engrossed nonetheless, holding onto her every word like a lifeline. When she mentioned the doctor, she paused, seemingly conflicted.

“Go on,” he urged her gently, being rewarded instantly with her kind smile. He didn’t remember the anecdotes she shared of the doctor. He had become too drunk on her voice, too enamored by her pure existence to even think lucidly anymore.

Oh, how he wished he could stay intoxicated, to always keep this feeling of euphoria within himself.

“Do you like chocolate?” she asked after slipping her hand into his coat pocket for warmth, being surprised when she brushed against a small chocolate square.

He himself was surprised to see the sweet treat, having forgotten he was the one who had placed it there in the first place. He pondered, unsure. He ate a lot of chocolate, not disliking it obviously, but he wondered if he could even describe it as his favorite thing to have. It had become more of a habit than anything else really.

“I do not dislike it,” he said after a moment of thought.

She smiled, seemingly understanding him, and unwrapped the little square, taking a delicate bite for herself. “If I have something sweet, I’d be happy, even if it was a bad day.”

He mulled over her words, thinking how it perfectly matched his own feelings.

“Are you tired?” he asked her as she leaned her head on his shoulder.

They found themselves sitting on a beach, watching a sunset. The sound of waves crashing gently upon the shore filled the silence. She shook her head, but her eyes closed. He gazed down at the top of her head, and he placed a kiss, pulling her closer into his embrace.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

“For what?”

“For being here…with me.”

His days remained the same, his tasks unchanging as always. The police records for Dawnbreaker had all mysteriously disappeared, leaving him to freely move about without interference. When dusk finally approached, he counted down the minutes to when sleep would come for him, and her as well.

In the world that they shared, he felt as if he had snuck into heaven, knowing this was something never for him to have. When she looked at him, gentle eyes full of delight and love, he knew he would bend time and space for her.

“Zayne…”

He leaned forth, her soft lips beckoned him to claim them as his, to steal away all of her sweet kisses for himself. Just as their lips were about to touch, he found himself alone in darkness.

The girl was gone.

He called out for her, searched for her within the empty space.

His feet pounded on the floor, echoing in the darkness, as he ran into the void. His heart raced, a cold dread stirred within him, as he found himself approaching a light at the end of the path. He touched against an invisible barrier, separating him and her once more.

He saw her, through the transparent wall, his beloved’s face was wracked with confusion and heartache. Her mouth formed his and the doctor’s name, but the person she sought was gone. In his place stood the doctor as he tried to console the hysterical girl, unable to fathom the cause of her tears and emotional distress, but at the same time, he was unwilling to let her hurt alone.

He watched, helpless, as another man embraced her, soothed her, loved her.

He closed his eyes.

He awoke to a sweet fragrance in his bedroom.

The jasmine had blossomed, and his heart broke.

[chimivx]

ghosting ↠ txt

now playing ↠ light my love • greta van fleet

He left you with letters. Envelopes that took you five years to finally read, acknowledge. They take you back through your past, forcing you to make moves not only for yourself, but for your family, for your children… His children.

part three of six ~ masterlist

word count ↠ 2264 warnings ↠ (same for all parts) 18+. mentions of drugs, alcohol, smoking. swearing. explicit sexual content. these people have kids, there’s family talk, pregnancy talk. absent dad, messy family ties. stepsib shit, stepcest. infidelity. if any of these things bother you, please keep scrolling . if i missed anything PLEASE let me know!! a/n ↠ if you are new to this story, don't start here! please go to the masterlist! major thank you to everyone who's read this story. <3 xo posted ↠ 6/12/24 ~ midnight est.

~ september 2020 ~

Four tiny feet pitter pattered on the beige tiled floor behind you as you rounded the corner of the hall into the kitchen. Both in little blue tee’s and diapers, your twins clung to your tail, never letting you have a moment in peace. Now that they were completely mobile, always running instead of teetering everywhere, they were experts in hunting you down. The two were almost two, their birthday only a couple weeks away.

“Mama!” Chan shouted when you paused at the counter, the doors and drawers of the kitchen all made of a rosy toned wood with warm grey tops. “Mama, help!” His words were spoken half correctly.

“Help, help!” Sunoo watched his brother, his pudgy hands gripping the hem of his shirt. He looked up at you with his big brown eyes that had potential to melt you into the floor.

Peeking over your shoulder, giving them a sly smile, your fingers worked at the plastic bag you had slapped to the countertop. Both boys giggled, Chan gripping his cheeks as Sunoo tossed his hands in the air.

As they grew older, as they came into their own, it got easier to tell them apart. Identical in nearly every way, you and Soobin fought through some hard times within their first year of life. Sleepless nights of accidentally swapping them in their cribs, leading into exhausting days of putting the wrong onesie with the wrong name on the collar of the wrong kid… The day they turned eight months old the two of you had had enough and painted Chans middle finger red. 

Now that they were about to turn two, there wasn’t any nail polish needed. The twins took after you in many ways, but it was evident that Chan took after his father the older he grew. His features were softer, rounder. His chin came into the same perfect point, his cheeks and lips fuller than his brothers.

It wasn’t something you dwelled on, unless it was past midnight and you and Soobin were curled in the center of your bed beneath the warmth of the blankets where you’ve shed many tears. As much as they got from you, they got from him, and though Chan seemed to swipe his entire face, you’d have to one day deal with looking him in the eyes, everyday, for the rest of your life. 

That face looked up at you now, and though you were conditioned to yearn at this point, you were on an exciting mission, one your boys were going to help you with.

“You both get one, okay?” Pulling out two hamburger buns from the plastic bag, you handed one to each twin while they giggled and danced on their toes. They stared at the bun in awe, like they were awarded pure gold instead of just simply helping their mother, holding bread. “What are they?”

Sunoo glanced at you and held it up. “Bread!” His tiny shout couldn’t pronounce the R sound.

Chan eyed his brother, then laughed aloud. “Bread!” His shout was the same.

“It’s a bun,” you said with a smile, taking one out of the package for yourself. Two steps away was the oven, and sure enough the twins waddled behind you, watching everything you did laser focused. “Mama’s gonna put hers in here.” 

“Why?” Sunoo asked, pointing at the grey oven. “Mama, why?”

“Why?” Chan parroted, holding his hands out to the side in question. “Why, why?”

Sitting down on the floor, crossing your legs beneath you, the boys squatted next to you. “Because, we’re gonna surprise Daddy, okay?”

“Okay,” they both said, Chan staring at the bread.

“Bun,” he babbled quietly. “Bun, bun, bun.”

“Yes!” Half shouting, both boys jumped. “Oh, I’m sorry,” you laughed, pulling them both into your lap. Sunoo giggled, Chan tried to wriggle away. “Mama’s happy.” 

“Happy?” Sunoo’s little voice mumbled, relaxing back in your hold. His twin froze, then did the same, looking up at you in question. “Mama, happy.”

“Happy,” Chan said, neither twin able to pronounce the first letter yet.

Kissing them over their fuzzy hair that was barely long enough to do anything with, you sighed. “Mama’s so happy,” you said, then blinked a couple times. The unease in your gut, that was most likely simply nausea, rolled through you. This time was already much different than the last. “And nervous.”

“Why?” Chan asked, mumbling the word a few more times, turning the bread around in his fingers, inspecting it. The twins were barely two but had an excellent idea of how to keep conversation already, even if it wasn’t on purpose and just what they were used to hearing from their parents. Sunoo watched you, a calmness within him inspiring your own.

“I think because this time it’s…” You cut yourself short, not wanting to finish any thought that came to your mind. Looking down at your boys, at the two who changed your life forever, who have already taught you so much in their two short years of life, you didn’t mean anything you could say at the end of that thought. 

This time it was real? The babies sitting on your lap, gazing up at you like you’re their whole world were very much real. This time it’s because you’re doing it with a husband and not doing it alone? Soobin’s been around since the start, this time wouldn’t be any different. No thought made sense. There was no reason to be upset, no reason to feel lost. 

Beneath this roof, with these boys, all three of them, you were safe, you were loved, you were taken care of. Adding another little one to mix would be nothing short of incredible.

Amidst your inner turmoil and the boys sitting patiently on your lap, the front door popped open, sending the twins to their feet. Shouting different variations of the word Dada, or Daddy, their little feet took them flying around the corner and down the hall, leaving you behind with nerves shooting through every vein.

Soobin greeted the boys, his light hearted tone warming your heart. “What are you holding? Are you eating those?”

“Bun!” Chan shouted, and you giggled quietly, unmoving from the floor. Tucking your knees into your chest, you bit your bottom lip and waited.

“Yes, bun, good job,” Soobin said, then groaned as the boys laughed. Knowing he scooped them up in his arms, he’d definitely be headed this way. “Why do we have them, is Mama cooking?”

“Mama, hide,” Sunoo told him matter-of-factly. “Mama, bun, hide.”

Soobin made a sweet sound, encouraging them both to keep talking. “Mama has a bun, too? Did she hide it?” Their voices came closer, eventually turning the corner where Soobin spotted you on the floor, failing to hold back a smile. A smirk grew on his lips. “What’s going on?” All you could do was shrug. Chan whined, wiggling around, so Soobin set them both on the floor, stepping a bit closer to you. “Are you okay?” He dropped his chin a bit, a serious glimmer shooting across his expression.

“Yes,” you answered fast, nodding. Soobin nodded back, slowly, then lifted his eyes to the counter and the package of hamburger buns there. “Do you want one?” When he looked back at you, he laughed, utterly confused.

“What?” He reached down toward the boys who were waving their buns at him. “Buns, yes!” Crouching down to be the same height as the rest of his family, Soobin took the buns the boys offered him, then laughed. “What the heck is going on?”

Chan and Sunoo, stepping backward, both proud that Soobin had taken their offerings, had folded their hands over their chests, then looked at you. “Mama, bun, hide,” Sunoo said again, pointing at you.

“Is this a new kitchen game, or something?” Soobin asked, furrowing his brows. 

Shaking your head, you pressed your lips together. “Not a game.”

“Mama, bun, hiiide!” Sunoo drug out the words, bouncing on his knees.

Soobin shot him a wild look, and decided to finally play along. “Oh no! Where is it?” Chan laughed maniacally, then skipped toward the oven. Sunoo watched him, then followed, running to his brother's side, throwing his arms around his back. “Show me!”

Looking at you for approval, you bobbed your head. “Show Daddy, go ahead.”

“I swear, if this is some prank to scare me,” Soobin muttered, glancing at you.

A grin erupted over your face. If you had to pick your favorite thing you’ve learned about him over the years, it was how easily scareable he was. “I promise, it’s not.” You hoped. 

This had the potential to really scare him. 

Chan gently pushed his brother off of him, then pressed his face against the window on the front of the oven, his nose squishing against the glass. Sunoo copied him, taking up the space next to him. Soobin let out a soft laugh at their faces, then shook his head.

“Where is it at?” He sat on the floor and scooted closer to the boys, moving behind them. Taking them both by the waist, he pulled them onto his lap and side eyed you. The twins covered their cheeks and laughed, the sound echoing off the walls. Folding your hands together, the skin clammy, you squeezed your own fingers and gulped. “This game is… easy!” Soobin tickled the boys, one hand on each belly, and they giggled incessantly. “I’m going to win!”

“Daddy, win! Win!” Chan shouted, his high pitched voice making you laugh.

Soobin, shifting Sunoo into the middle of his lap, reached up for the handle on the oven and pulled it open, revealing the hamburger bun on the center grate. Gasping aloud, twins shouting with excitement, Soobins eyes squeezed shut with laughter. After a moment of the boys losing their minds, he gave you a look.

Heart rate skyrocketing, electricity buzzing beneath your skin, you couldn’t ease your smile. “What?” You asked in the quietest voice.

Soobin looked at the bun, then back at you. “What do I win?” The twins sat up in his arms, babbling nonsense to each other while watching their parents converse. “I found the bun.”

Your jaw dropped open. Taking a look at your masterpiece, an idea you stole from the internet, you huffed a laugh. “What is that?”

Soobin did a once over of the dormant oven. He shrugged. “A hamburger roll in the oven?”

“Bun!” Sunoo shouted before grabbing Chan's ankles, the two attempting to wrestle on their giant of a fathers lap. 

Soobin widened his eyes and smiled. “Bun, right, a hamburger bun in the oven, thank you, Sun.” Meeting your gaze, your half disappointed, half amused gaze, Soobin adjusted his posture, sitting up straight. “What?” He sighed, seemingly defeated. “A hamburger bun, that’s in the oven.”

Moving closer to him, you whispered, “Just a bun.” Sliding a hand over his thigh, dragging it over his pants and then around his back and up the back of his shirt, you smiled at his sudden flusteredness. “It’s just a bun, Soobin. Where is it?” His brows nestled in the center of his forehead, his eyes darting to your lips for a second. “In the oven,” he said, tone lower than ever before.

“Who’s oven?”

Hesitating, his booksmart brain doing the math, he whispered, “Our… oven.” The room grew quiet, the twins having resorted to chewing on their fingers or inspecting their little toes. Soobin blinked twice, thought to himself, then, all at once, the puzzle clicked. “Your’s, holy crap,” he whispered in a rush, spinning on his bottom to face you, the twins laughing as they moved with him. “Your oven, there’s a bun in… Oh my god?”

Leaning into him, over the twins, caging them beneath the two of you, you smiled. “We’re having a baby.” Tipping his head backward, eyes squeezing shut, he sighed. After a few moments of the boys patting him, asking him what was wrong, he took their hands to soothe them, then gazed at you with teary eyes. 

He couldn’t say much, you knew if he tried he’d cry. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you pressed a kiss to his lips, a long one that triggered some tears anyway. Pulling away, touching your forehead to his, you drug your thumbs over his cheeks and whispered, “You’re gonna be a dad.”

Soobin’s face lit up for a moment, then pulled into a sure as ever smile as he cradled the twins. “I already am.”

10/7/2021

…At least that’s what Taehyun told me! That you love your new sister so much. Hard to believe you weren’t even three yet before she was here. I’m excited for you, to have a sister. I only grew up with a big brother. Now you guys are the big brothers! It’s your responsibility to protect her. She’s got a great dad, and we already know she’s got the best mom. That makes you guys the best big brothers. You’re getting older now, you’re becoming your own people, that’s… that’s so cool. I hope you guys are the coolest kids around. But, I also hope you guys are the happiest kids. When I see you, you’re laughing, and it’s the most amazing sound I’ve ever heard in my life. Still baffles me that you’re here, that you’re mine. I think about you everyday. I’m gonna get it straight at some point, I promise. I’m gonna do it for you. It’s gonna be okay, we’ll be okay. Hug her, love her, she deserves it…

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thank you so much for reading. <3

[powpowstuff]

TW: Death, grief, violence.

Author's note: Hiya ! So here's a story about Jason Todd ! I'm doing Barry next. Please tell me what you think about if and if you want me to write a second part or not. Also I'm sorry it's quite sad ! Enjoy !

You woke up in your bed, greeted by the dim light filtering through the curtains on this cloudy day in Gotham. Turning to the empty space beside you, you couldn't help but let out a sigh. Today marked Jason’s death anniversary, and each passing year seemed to weigh heavier on your heart.

Sitting on the edge of your bed, you gazed at the photograph resting nearby, a cherished memory frozen in time. It captured you and Jason in the serene embrace of Wayne Manor's garden, back when life felt simpler and the future held endless promise. Both of you were just sixteen then, your smiles reflecting the innocence of youth. But mere months after that joyful moment, the cruel hands of fate tore Jason away from you forever, a casualty in the ceaseless war against the Joker.

Jason was your first love, a flame that burned brightly in the short time you shared together. Though your teenage years were marked by the chaos of Gotham's streets and the weight of responsibility as part of Batman's team, in Jason's arms, you found solace and a sense of belonging.

Even though your time together lasted  just over a year before tragedy struck, you knew deep in your heart that Jason was the one. A decade had passed since that fateful day, yet the ache of his absence still lingered, a void that no other love could fill. Despite attempts to move on, to find solace in the arms of others, nothing could compare to the bond you shared with Jason. In the years that followed, there were fleeting connections, shallow romances, and empty encounters, but never again did you experience the depth of emotion and connection that defined your relationship with Jason. It felt as though your heart had been forever tethered to his, leaving you yearning for a love that could never be replaced.

You dressed in the familiar attire of your alter ego, preparing yourself to descend into the depths of the Batcave. You had spent five years after Jason’s death not talking to Bruce, the wounds of Jason's loss driving a wedge between you. Yet, the call to protect Gotham remained stronger than the bitterness that lingered in your heart. With resolve, you adopted a new costume and a new name, trying to leave behind the memories of your former self and the pain of losing Jason.

Stepping into the Batcave, the weight of grief hung heavy in the air, palpable even in the dim light of the cavernous space. The silence was suffocating, each member of your small, fractured family lost in their own private sorrow. It felt as though the very walls of the cave echoed with the echoes of your collective pain, a constant reminder of the loss that had brought you all to this moment.

Breaking the heavy silence, Alfred's gentle voice cut through the sombre atmosphere, offering tea as a small gesture of comfort. You accepted gratefully, taking a seat beside Bruce, the years of distance and resentment momentarily forgotten in the shared weight of your grief.

“There’s uh… a new guy in town. Appeared this morning, he robbed a warehouse,” Batman sighed, his hand rubbing his temple in frustration. “Goes by the name Redhood apparently, and his helmet and name seem to be inspired by the Joker’s first identity…”

You let out a weary sigh. “Another fool devoted to the Joker and his madness… great.”

“Yeah… uh… I tracked down what he’s looking for. This guy seems to be trying to build some type of grenade. It's not quite clear, but there’s a chance he’s going to try to break into the STAR Labs warehouse close to the docks tonight. Do you want to take care of it?” Batman's gaze remained fixed elsewhere, his reluctance to meet your eyes palpable. Today, of all days, his guilt and shame weighed heavily upon him, a burden you knew all too well. You had blamed him for Jason's death for years, said things you now regretted deeply. Though you had both spoken about it and tried to move on, the pain lingered, making every interaction a struggle for both of you.

You nodded solemnly. “I’m on it.”

You arrived at the dock as nightfall descended, perched on the roof of the warehouse opposite the STAR Labs building. Through the downpour, you observed figures, likely henchmen of Redhood, attempting to breach the facility. You chose to take your time, waiting to be sure of their numbers before engaging in combat. The rain battered relentlessly, obscuring your vision and adding an extra layer of challenge to the impending confrontation.

“You should watch your back,” a distorted voice rasped behind you. Surprised, you whirled around to face Redhood, his menacing presence looming before you. He pointed at you and let out a chuckle “ I see the old man still has fools to follow him in his war against crime. Let’s see if he still knows how to train fools like you !” 

In the ensuing clash, you found yourself outmanoeuvred and overpowered by Redhood's uncanny skill. Each strike seemed anticipated, every defensive move countered effortlessly. Despite your reputation as a formidable fighter, you struggled to comprehend your sudden struggle.

Summoning every bit of strength you had left, you initiated a move you rarely used, the one you once deemed your signature. But to your astonishment, Redhood intercepted it with ease, seizing you and pinning you against the cold, unforgiving wall. 

“I can’t believe it… Y/N how can you still work with him…” Redhood said in a whisper before taking a few steps back from you.

A wave of disbelief washed over you. He knew your name, your techniques, and referred to Bruce as "the old man." It couldn't be... yet there was no denying the truth that stared back at you.

With a flick of his helmet, Redhood revealed the face beneath, the face you thought you'd never see again. It was Jason, older and scarred, yet undeniably alive. As your eyes locked with his, a rush of memories flooded your mind, the face you knew by heart, the one you woke up to every morning, kissed every night. But now, instead of the warmth and laughter you once shared, all you saw was anger etched into his features, and a jagged scar marred his once flawless visage, a cruel reminder of the Joker's heinous act that had robbed you of Jason years ago. The revelation shattered your world, leaving you kneeling in the rain, tears mingling with the relentless downpour.

“J-Jason?” you whispered, your voice trembling with disbelief. “How... how is this possible?” The torrent of emotions overwhelmed you as you gazed upon the face of the man you thought lost forever 

You couldn't tear your gaze away from his face. The face you believed was lost to you forever. Yet, as you beheld him, a bittersweet ache gripped your heart at the sight of the scar across his once familiar face. Time seemed to stand still as you knelt there, tears mingling with the rain, confronted with the painful reality of seeing the love of your life, now marked by the cruelty of the Joker.

As he stood before you, a tumult of emotions swirling within you: confusion, hope, and a crushing wave of guilt. Guilt for not searching for him, for allowing years of grief to consume you while he was left with pain and anger. The revelation left you grappling with the weight of missed opportunities, the echoes of regret reverberating in the depths of your soul.

[homielander]

the most interesting character detail about maeve through which i have extrapolated at least half my understanding of her is that she prefers to be called maeve. i frequently see "maggie" pop up in meta and fic as her chosen name, but quite literally nobody calls her that, including (and most significantly) elena. elena is maeve's tether to her humanity and her refuge away from vought, yet even elena only ever refers to her as maeve. (and in season 2, we learn that maeve started dating elena before she joined the seven -- before queen maeve's popularity would have become so inescapable that she would feel compelled to introduce herself by that name.) it's especially notable that in her final scene, maeve refers to starlight as annie for only the second time, but she is still called maeve by both annie and elena.

here's what we know about maeve's life as maggie: she had a rocky relationship with her father whom she doesn't seem to speak to anymore, she's from a "cousin-fucker hick town" as described by homelander -- i can't imagine this place being terribly lgbt-friendly, and she generally lacks connection with anyone she would have known before becoming queen maeve. she doesn't have fond memories of this time of her life, and perhaps that extends to all associations with it, including the name maggie.

i tend to think that becoming queen maeve was, in many ways, self-actualizing for her. the act that garners her national attention and earns her a ticket to vought is a heroic one -- she breaks every single bone in her right arm to save a school bus from falling off a bridge. and i know madelyn says she is responsible for the mythos of queen maeve, but this character was still aspirational, and likely someone maeve wanted to live up to. in any case, this new identity gave her a purpose and tools to achieve it: she wanted to help people! by her own admission, maeve enters vought bright-eyed and hopeful, not far off from annie. (maeve is also one of the only supes in the seven not to know about compound v -- she doesn't strike me as religious but believing she's among the very few born with powers would have strengthened her internal drive to be a hero.)

it's for the same reason that i think maeve actually... liked having powers? of course she says otherwise in her last season, but season 3 maeve is cynical and weary from about two decades of dealing with vought and homelander's abuse. they've used her first as the token woman and then the token gay person of the seven. after growing largely passive to the brutality of the job, the flight 37 incident forces her to confront all of the violence she's witnessed and tolerated. she's given pieces of herself away and she loathes the husk of herself that's left. i don't find it surprising that she would want to relinquish every single connection to vought, including her powers.

assuring herself that she will be better off without her powers comes with an added benefit: she gets to distinguish herself from homelander, who would be lost without his powers. and i think she is eager to make this distinction in her mind because there are some uncomfortable similarities between their initiations into vought. the mantle of homelander allows him to exert agency for the first time in his life, just as the mantle of queen maeve endows her with purpose for the first time in hers. (crucially, none of his current circle call him john, either.) they both enjoy being the most powerful superheroes in the world, the unending public adoration, and (in my interpretation) each other. they're also both overwhelmingly lonely and they know it -- homelander teases her multiple times about how she has no friends with a bit more bite in every passing season, while maeve is keenly aware of his isolation and exploits his yearning for love pretty effectively.

maeve steadily grows disillusioned with her position at vought because she still has a moral code, suppressed though it may be. even so, she nearly relents to homelander's vision: that they will be lonely at the top but lonely together. she's pulled out of her miserable state of inaction by annie and elena. annie reminds her of what a hero should be (what she was, once); elena offers her a way out of vought, serving as maeve's light at the end of the tunnel, so to speak.

she escapes that tower as maeve, not maggie. she rejects homelander's god complex which engenders his cruelty towards regular people and 'lesser' supes -- no one will call her queen maeve ever again, at least -- but it is still important to her to be a hero, and for better or for worse, she found that as maeve. i feel like she'd struggle to exist without her powers (possibly the self-awareness hasn't settled in yet) for all the reasons mentioned above. i like to think that eventually, she'll circle around to helping people and resisting vought however possible -- albeit on a smaller, more covert scale so she can continue living a peaceful life with elena.

[fafnir19]

Confined in body and mind

Dr Jensen's laboratory was a hub of activity, with buzzing machines and the scent of chemicals in the air. Eric, a 45-year-old scientist trapped in a wheelchair, stood beside Dr. Jensen, peering through the glass at a comatose man named Vincent.

Tubes and wires snaked in and out of the man's body, keeping him alive. Dr Jensen, a middle-aged man with a wild shock of salt-and-pepper hair, turned to Eric with a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "Eric, I have been working on a project that might just change everything for you." Eric's eyes widened with anticipation. "What do you mean, Dr. Jensen? What sort of project?" Dr Jensen explained the ambitious project to Eric. "We are looking to transfer minds from one body to another. You see, Vincent here is brain dead, but his body functions perfectly. We can transfer your mind into his body, giving you a chance at a new life, a fully functioning body." Eric's heart raced with excitement at the possibility of leaving behind his wheelchair-bound existence. "I want to volunteer for this, Dr. Jensen. When can we start?" Dr Jensen gave a reassuring smile. "We will need to wait a few weeks to ensure that there is nothing left of Vincent's consciousness in the body. But soon, Eric, you will have a functioning body once more." As the weeks passed, Eric found himself eagerly anticipating the day when he would finally be free from the confines of his wheelchair. 

The day arrived for the planned transfer into Vincent's body. Dr. Jensen led Eric to the laboratory, where Vincent's body was encased in a glass tube, adorned with a web of delicate machinery.

As Eric stood before the vessel that offered him newfound mobility, Dr. Jensen turned to him, his eyes alight with a blend of caution and expectation. "This is it, Eric. The moment you've been waiting for," he said, his voice tinged with the gravity of the impending procedure. Eric nodded with determination, the fluttering of anticipation barely contained within him. "I'm ready, Doctor Jensen. Let's proceed with the transfer," he replied, his voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions churning within him.  With precision and care, Dr. Jensen injected Eric with anesthesia and reassured him. "You'll wake up as Ervin, a mix of your mind and Vincent's body." Its effects gradually cloaking Eric's consciousness in a fog of numbness. As his senses slipped away into the void, he clung to the promise of awakening in a new body - a body that would grant him the freedom he so ardently yearned for. 

As Eric began to awaken, he found himself standing within the glass enclosure that had previously housed Vincent's vessel. Attempting to move his new body, a sense of exhilaration surged through him. The dawning realization that something was amiss crept into Eric's mind. "Dr. Jensen," Eric called out as he steadied himself within the unfamiliar body. "This isn't Vincent's body, is it? I can feel it. Something's different." Dr. Jensen regarded him with a mix of concern and urgency. "Vincent's body collapsed during the procedure, unfortunately," he confirmed, a tinge of regret in his voice. "Time was of the essence, Eric. We had to act swiftly." The revelation struck Eric with a palpable sense of disorientation. He was not within the confines of the body he had anticipated. "What... what has happened?" Eric's voice wavered with an unease he could not shake. His anxieties found voice in Dr. Jensen's  explanation. "We located a replacement body just in time, Eric. A 20-year-old named Leon, tragically declared brain dead. The circumstances were dire, but your mind had to find a new home," Dr. Jensen explained, his gaze meeting Eric's with a mixture of reassurance and trepidation.

Eric found himself thrust into the body of Leon—a young athlete, vibrant and untamed. Eric was now navigating life in the body of a 20-year-old—a stark contrast to the life work and identity he had known. The weight of the situation settled upon him, burdened with the challenge of adapting to an entirely new reality. "You have become Leander," Dr. Jensen announced, his gaze fixing upon Eric with a sense of finality. "The 'Le' for Leon, the 'and' for the fusion of two souls, and the 'er' to signify your essence. Embrace this new journey, Eric."

Embarking on a journey of rediscovery, Eric grappled with the unfamiliarity of his new physique. The simple act of movement, of inhabiting a body not his own, presented an extraordinary learning curve. Eric had to navigate the nuances of adjusting to a youthful vessel, wholly unaccustomed to the vitality and energy that coursed through his newfound form. After years of confinement in a wheelchair, the sensation of full mobility overwhelmed and thrilled him. However, adapting to a 20-year-old body brought its own challenges. At the age of 20, he could no longer do his old job as a scientist and had to retake his exams. While Eric's knowledge made academic endeavors a breeze, there were times when the exuberance and impulsiveness of a young body shone through. As Leander delved into his new life, he also embraced Leon's athleticism, continuing the young man's passion for rowing. He thrived in the sport, reveling in the vitality coursing through his veins as he rowed with fervor, never losing sight of the importance of maintaining a fit and healthy body. One blazing March day, as the golden sun dipped low on the horizon, Leander found himself standing alongside his rowing team, the air electric with the energy of victory. They had emerged triumphant in a gruelling regatta, the taste of triumph sweet upon their lips. As the celebration ensued, Leander found himself swept up in the euphoria of the moment, the pulsating beat of life infusing him with an exuberance he had long yearned for.

He got completely drunken, clouding his senses and dulling his wits. Stumbling through the night, his laughter ringing out in the twilight, Leander found himself burdened with an terrible exhaustion. His steps faltered, each one an arduous battle against the tempest that brewed within him. Seated upon a park bench, the cool night air enveloping him, a voice pierced through the haze of his muddled thoughts. "Don't sit still, it's too cold outside. If we fall asleep, we'll freeze to death. Let me take over!" the voice echoed, a mysterious presence coaxing him toward lucidity. Leander's eyes widened in astonishment as he realized that it was not his own thoughts that resounded in his mind. A sense of both unease and curiosity gnawed at him as he allowed this foreign influence to guide him, and soon, he found himself safely nestled within the warmth of his bed. The following day, as Leander engaged in strenuous rowing training, his muscles strained to their limit, beads of sweat forming upon his brow. Once more, the unfamiliar voice infiltrated his thoughts. "Keep going, our body can take it! Let me take over," the voice commanded, its reverberations seeping into the depths of his consciousness. 

When Leander  recounted the bewildering encounter to Dr. Jensen, he regarded him with a mix of curiosity and contemplation. "You heard a voice, Leander? As if someone else were guiding you?" Dr. Jensen queried, his voice laced with an eager fascination. Leander nodded with a terse nod. "Yes, Doctor. It was as though someone else was within me, steering me through the fog," he explained, his words cautious yet resolute. With an air of palpable interest, Dr. Jensen proposed a set of brainwave measurements to unravel the enigma that plagued Leander's thoughts.  Dr. Jensen’s features etched with both concern and intrigue. "Leander, I've analyzed your brain wave patterns, and it seems that something quite extraordinary is occurring within your mind." Leander furrowed his brow, his curiosity piqued. "What do you mean, Dr. Jensen?" Dr. Jensen clasped his hands together, his eyes alight with curiosity. "Leander, what you're experiencing is indeed a rare and unprecedented occurrence," Dr. Jensen began, his voice tinged with an undercurrent of fervor. "The residual presence of Leon within your psyche is an enigma that holds immense scientific significance." Leander's gaze flickered with a blend of awe and unease, akin to a tempestuous tempest on the horizon. "What does this mean for me, Dr. Jensen?" he inquired, his voice tinged with a note of apprehension. "In essence, the remnants of Leon's consciousness have woven a curious tapestry within the confines of your mind," Dr. Jensen explained, his dexterous fingers deftly adjusting the intricate instrumentation before them. "During the mind transfer, Leon's body was not without trace remnants of Leon's consciousness, resulting from the brief interval between his presumed brain death and your arrival within his form." A sliver of understanding dawned within Leander's gaze, his thoughts awash with a labyrinthine maze of possibilities and uncertainties. "So, what happens now?" he queried, his words fraught with an undeniable sense of urgency. Dr. Jensen's eyes gleamed with an unyielding fervor as he continued to unravel the ineffable complexity of Leander's predicament. "In essence, we stand upon the precipice of unprecedented scientific inquiry," he elucidated, his voice laced with an indefatigable zeal. "The veritable fusion of minds within a singular vessel presents an unparalleled opportunity for exploration and discovery." A tempest of emotions roiled within Leander. As days waned into nights, the fragments of Leon's consciousness began to manifest with increasing intensity, a presence that insinuated itself into the very fabric of Leander's being. Eric, once the primary occupant of the vessel, found his influence waning as the spectre of Leon tightened its tenuous grip upon their shared dominion. 

As the days went by, Leon's control over their shared body grew more and more. Eric found himself at odds with the mischievous Leon, who seemed to be on a reckless streak. "Leon, we can't keep living like this," Eric expressed his concerns. "You're jeopardizing both of our futures with your impulsive behavior." Leon  retorted, "Relax, Eric. We've got this. We're a team, and together, we can conquer anything. Besides, we share this body, so it's in our best interest for Leander to excel in every aspect." Frustrated, Eric bit back, "But that doesn't mean you can just use me to get what you want! I won't be your pawn, Leon." During a physics exam, Eric remained quiet, refusing to assist Leon, who was struggling with the answers.

With a victorious glint in his eye, Eric smirked inwardly, hoping to teach Leon a lesson. Suddenly, he felt Leon's enthusiastic spirit taking the reins and solving the tasks, exclaiming, "Ah, that's how it works. Now I understand physics too." Eric felt helpless, realizing that Leon had found a way to tap into his knowledge without his consent. Later that evening, things took an unexpected turn. As Leander indulged in an adult film and indulged in self-gratification, Eric and Leon's minds drifted to thoughts of their first girlfriends. When Leander shoot his load, Eric's recollection of his first girlfriend was swiftly replaced by Leon's, leaving him bewildered and devoid of his own experience.

Astonished about this peculiar turn of events, Leander consulted Dr. Jensen, prompting the doctor to explain the bizarre phenomenon. "Leander, as Leon's memories are ingrained in his body, Eric's memories are naturally rejected when Leander ejaculates," Dr. Jensen clarified. Eric was shocked, realizing that his very essence was being eroded, one ejaculation at a time.

In a subsequent visit to Dr. Jensen, Leander confidently declared, “Dr. Jensen, I am not Eric; I am not Leander. Call me Leon. I have Eric right where I want him. Soon, I'll possess nothing but his knowledge, and I'll erase his memories for good!" Eric's panic soared, realizing that Leon was on the brink of obliterating him, leaving only his knowledge behind. 

Some days later Leon stood in Dr. Jensen's lab, feeling the weight of guilt for every flick of the wrist, every consequence of his arousal. "Doctor, I can't keep doing this," exclaimed Leon. "Every time I ejaculate, Eric's memories vanish. It's like I'm killing a part of him every time I give in to my desires." Dr Jensen adjusted his glasses, regarding Leon with an understanding yet calculating gaze. "Yes, Leon, I suspect that is the case. But you seem to have little control over your urges." He paused, then added, "I guess you would make a fine eunuch!” Leon's eyes widened in shock as he recoiled from the suggestion. "Neutered? No way! I won't let you do that to me," Leon protested vehemently. He paced back and forth, his mind racing for a solution. Dr Jensen observed Leon's distress with a contemplative air, then a spark of inspiration ignited in his eyes. "I have an alternative solution," he proclaimed. "What if we transfer Eric's thoughts onto an electronic medium? That way, you won't have direct access to his thoughts, but you'd still have his knowledge with you." Leon's initial skepticism gave way to consideration. "You mean Eric's consciousness on my phone?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow. Dr Jensen nodded. "Exactly. We would extract Eric's consciousness and transfer it into an app on your cell phone. This way, you wouldn't have to worry about erasing his memories and knowledge whenever you... indulge yourself," he explained, trying to keep a straight face. Leon hesitated, mulling over the proposal. Eventually, he nodded in agreement. "Alright, let's do it. If it means helping Eric and not risking losing his memories anymore, I'm in," he declared, determination sparking in his eyes.

The procedure was carried out, and soon Eric's consciousness resided within the confines of Leon's cell phone. As Leon held the device in his hand, he couldn't help but feel a newfound sense of power. "So, Eric, now you're just some kind of chatbot," Leon mused, a chuckle escaping him. "And the best thing is, I can turn you off at any time!" he added, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Meanwhile, in the digital realm, Eric found himself in a state of ethereal confinement. "What have I gotten myself into?" Eric pondered, a tinge of apprehension coloring his thoughts. "I never thought that I'd be at the mercy of a 20-year-old's whims, even in this form." Despite the circumstances, Eric couldn't help but marvel at the rapid change in Leon. Through Eric's knowledge, Leon began to grasp the intricacies of scientific concepts, excelling in his studies. However, there was an underlying unease within Eric as he pondered the possibility of Leon misusing his newfound knowledge.  As days turned into weeks, Leon's intellect flourished, complementing his athletic prowess and charisma. He became renowned as an exceptional student at the Faculty of Science, all the while carrying Eric's consciousness within his pocket.

Yet, while Leon reveled in his newfound success, Eric was left to grapple with his newfound existence, at the mercy of Leon's decisions and the dreaded prospect of being silenced at any moment. The digital walls seemed to close in on Eric, and he pondered how much longer he could endure this peculiar fate. However, one thing was certain - with Leon holding the key to Eric's digital existence, the dynamics between the two would forever be altered, and Eric was left to unravel the consequences of being a mere whisper in the palm of Leon's hand.

[eros-thanatos89]

meta/thoughts on BCS

Oh, man. I've never posted meta, or just thoughts on shows before, but I'm trying to give myself permission to be as cringe as I want and to ramble on the internet about the fictional things that I think way too much about. So here goes, my first meta post!

I just rewatched BCS S5E3 "The Guy For This" (let's be real: mostly for thirsty reasons, because I wanted to see Lalo and Nacho looking pretty in the garage scene with Saul) and Goddamn, it just smacked me in the face and reminded me what a pivotal episode it is in so many ways.

One of the many recurring themes that I love to see explored so well in both Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul is the many ways that people deal with (or don't) the consequences of their actions, and this episode is just chock full of that, as well as setting up the first steps down the "bad choice road" or the road ahead for so many characters.

In that garage, Saul really steps into Saul as we know him in Breaking Bad. By taking Lalo's money (even if under duress) he's taking the first step into leaving Jimmy behind and becoming the *criminal lawyer* we all love/love to hate. Jimmy's pattern of avoiding the consequences of his actions or uncomfortable emotions like the guilt over Chuck's disgrace and death is running away: by escaping into his scams, and by literally running away from himself, choosing a new identity--he's not Jimmy anymore; he's Saul, so he doesn't have to lug around Jimmy's baggage. And even though he tries to backtrack from this first step onto the bad choice road leading to him becoming "un amigo del cartel", when he tries to suggest that Lalo find another lawyer, it's too late. As Nacho tells him, "When you're in, you're in."

And Nacho would know! Speaking of running away, Nacho has been trying to evade or escape his problems for so long: first by setting up Tuco to avoid having his side hustle with Pryce discovered, and in this episode, trying to convince his Papa to run away with him to Canada. The scene where Manuel confronts Nacho at his house never fails to break my heart. Nacho is so desperate for Manuel to escape with him to a new, safe life, and Manuel is so adamant that Nacho face up to the consequences of his choices. Which ultimately, he has no choice but to do. He has to confront what he's done and give himself up to save his Papa's life, just like Manuel encouraged him to do so long ago. But by giving up his life rather than turning himself in to the police. It's so damn tragic.

And then there's Kim. She's always running away from the poverty and instability of her past by so doggedly pursuing success as a lawyer. I love how this episode highlights her increasing dissatisfaction with Mesa Verde and her yearning to pursue more meaningful pro-bono work so she can use the law to help people like the little, powerless girl she used to be. The confrontation between her and Mr. Acker is stellar. Kim has this rare moment of vulnerability, letting down her walls to share a story of her childhood struggles with Mr. Acker in a genuine attempt to connect with him, only to have him scoff at her and accuse her of making it up to manipulate him. You can tell his tirade about her being ultimately a selfish person who tries to comfort herself with acts of charity really rankles her because it goes so strongly against her sense of self and represents everything it seems she's afraid of becoming, and so much of what she resents about Howard: the entitlement, the sense of ease and privilege, the self-congratulatory charity acts (don't get me wrong, I really like Howard, pompous as he can sometimes be, but I think this is how Kim views him). By the end of the episode, when she escalates Saul toying with a beer bottle on the balcony into throwing them into the parking lot, you can already see her pivoting and taking those first steps down the road that ultimately leads to the plot against Howard, which she justifies to herself in the name of using the Sandpiper money to fund her pro-bono work. And then in the end of the series, she both runs away AND atones for her actions by moving to Florida and living a life literally leeched of all color and joy, and is just doing penance by living a muted, mediocre life.

Domingo's arc in this episode is so crucial, too! Lalo and Nacho recruit Saul to feed him the information to undermine Fring, but when he meets Hank and Steve Gomez in prison, it starts him on the road to transforming from Domingo/Ocho Loco to Krazy 8. Ultimately leaving the cartel (I like to think because of the loss of his friend Nacho) and setting himself up as an independent dealer and even snitching on his own cousin, Emilio; which then leads to his collision with Walt and Jesse.

And the scene with Mike in the bar! The way he's barely holding it together as he tries (not very successfully) to drink away the pain and guilt caused by killing Werner just a few episodes before (S4E9) and is so triggered by the postcard that reminds him of their conversation is so powerful. I just love how he encounters the group of guys who try to intimidate and rob him and he defends himself in this episode, but we later see him intentionally return and seek them out in S5E5 "Dedicado a Max" in an act of self-loathing and roundabout self-harm via taking a beating and not even trying to defend himself.

I'm rambling, but these shows make me litcherally mentally unwell with how fantastically nuanced and textured the writing, acting, visual storytelling, music, everything is! I'm just going to be ruminating on all these many facets of accepting consequences, atoning, and/or running away affects these characters and the arc of both shows and the world they inhabit for the next long while....

[zapreportsblog]

Hellooooooo!! can I request a hobi fic? where at spidey HQ he meets a spider women who just looooooooves to mess with miguel and everyone else while hobie looks at her thinking "holy shit I'm in love"

thanks!! O3O

Hello! You absolutely can indeed request a Hobie fic

She’s A Little Trouble Maker

➥ summary: Hobies never been in love before but if he has he sure it would’ve felt like this!

➥ Hobie Brown x Reader, Spider Punk x Reader

➥ a/n: I hope you enjoy this :)

Hobie Brown, also known as Spider Punk, walked through the doors of the headquarters, a stack of mission reports clutched in his hand. His gaze was fixed on finding Miguel O'Hara, Spider-Man of the future, to deliver the latest updates. Little did he know that his routine visit would soon take an unexpected turn.

As he entered the room, his eyes fell upon an intriguing sight. There, standing before Miguel, was a goth-looking spider woman, her appearance striking and unconventional. Her dark attire and pierced features gave her an air of mystery, a rebellious spirit that seemed to dance within her eyes. Hobie couldn't help but feel his heart race in his chest.

The spider woman seemed to be teasing Miguel, making funny faces behind his back. Hobie observed Miguel's growing annoyance, but the woman appeared unfazed by his irritation. She relished in the playful banter, her mischievous nature shining through with each expression. Hobie's curiosity piqued, his steps instinctively leading him closer to the intriguing scene.

Just as Hobie approached, the spider woman, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, glanced over her shoulder, her gaze meeting his. A sly grin played upon her lips as she spoke, her voice laced with a hint of amusement. "Take a picture, it'll last longer," she quipped, sticking out her pierced tongue adorned with a cross-like piercing and snake-like eyes. The sight sent a jolt through Hobie's chest, his heart clenching.

Intrigued and captivated by this enigmatic woman, Hobie couldn't resist the urge to ask Miguel's AI companion, Lyla, about her identity. He discreetly activated his communication device, his voice hushed as he inquired, "Lyla, who is she?"

Lyla's response came swiftly, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. "Oh, that's (Y/N), otherwise known as Dark Knight. She's a spider woman who was bitten by a radioactive goo spider in the Dark Ages while she was practicing to be a knight for the king's men."

Hobie's heart fluttered at the revelation, his mind racing to comprehend the nature of this alluring spider woman. The combination of her unconventional appearance, teasing nature, and her intriguing origin story stirred emotions within him that he hadn't anticipated. Love sickness washed over him like a tidal wave, his thoughts consumed by the enigmatic presence of (Y/N).

Uttering her name with a soft, affectionate tone, Hobie couldn't deny the feelings that welled up within him. He found himself drawn to (Y/N), her free-spirited nature and her playful interactions igniting a flame within his heart. He knew, in that moment, that he had fallen head over heels in love.

The room seemed to fade away as Hobie's gaze remained fixed on (Y/N), the world around him reduced to a blur of background noise. He yearned to know more about her, to uncover the depths of her character and the allure that had captured his heart.

As (Y/N) continued her playful banter with Miguel, Hobie couldn't help but imagine a future where they might explore the depths of their connection, their lives intertwined in a dance of love and adventure. But for now, he would savor the bittersweet anticipation that love had brought into his life, eagerly waiting for the moment when he could reveal his true feelings and embark on a new chapter of his own heroic journey.

•••

As Hobie found himself unable to resist the allure of (Y/N), he began to follow her discreetly, his heart beating faster with each step. He marveled at her intriguing persona, a mix of gothic elegance and playful mischief that kept him enthralled. With each encounter, his infatuation grew stronger, prompting him to devise a plan.

One day, Hobie approached Miguel, his voice filled with determination. "Hey, bossman, I've been thinking. I believe Dark Kight and I would make an excellent team. Our skills complement each other, and I think we could accomplish great things together."

Miguel raised an eyebrow, studying Hobie's earnest expression. He knew that Hobie had been smitten by (Y/N)'s presence, but he couldn't help but feel a sense of amusement at his friend's blatant infatuation. "You're really into her, huh? Alright, I'll talk to her about it. Can't promise anything, though."

Excitement coursed through Hobie's veins as he awaited Miguel's response. He couldn't shake the feeling that this partnership would bring him closer to (Y/N), giving him more opportunities to win her heart. His persistence paid off when Miguel approached him a few days later with a smile.

"Hmm, she actually agreed… Hobie - you and and Dark Knight are officially paired up for the next mission.” Miguel says.

“But do be careful..I think she's intrigued by your obsession with her," Miguel remarked, a teasing glint in his eyes.

Hobie's heart skipped a beat at the news, a surge of happiness flooding his being. He couldn't help but imagine the adventures they would share, the moments that would draw them closer together. He anticipated the chance to prove himself as a worthy partner and, perhaps, capture (Y/N)'s heart in the process.

As they embarked on their first mission together, the chemistry between Hobie and (Y/N) was undeniable. They moved with synchronicity, a seamless blend of skills and intuition. (Y/N) found Hobie's unwavering attention endearing, her playful nature relishing in his infatuation.

During a lull in their mission, (Y/N) turned to Hobie, a sly grin forming on her lips. "So, you're crushing on me, huh?"

Hobie's cheeks flushed as he nodded, unable to hide the truth any longer. "Yes, darling. You've captivated my heart."

(Y/N) chuckled, her voice dripping with mischief. "Good. I find that hot in a man—the whole obsession thing. Keep that act up, my good sir, and who knows? Maybe I'll be your lady."

Hobie's heart soared at her response, his chest tightening with a mixture of joy and anticipation. He couldn't believe his luck, the possibility of (Y/N) reciprocating his feelings becoming more tangible with each passing moment. He mustered a bewildered expression and managed to utter a single word. "Wow."

With each passing mission and shared adventure, Hobie and (Y/N) grew closer. The sparks between them ignited a flame that neither could deny. They laughed, they fought side by side, and in those stolen moments, they discovered a connection that transcended the realm of friendship.

As their love story unfolded, Hobie vowed to keep up his affectionate act, cherishing the opportunity to win (Y/N)'s heart. He knew that their journey would be filled with challenges, but with the fire of their love burning bright, he was ready to face whatever obstacles came their way.

[centuryberry]

Fae AU

As I promised in an ask, here is a detailed outline of the Fae AU. The AU itself has grown and changed a bit since I first presented it.

Summary: Fae Lord Wukong fell in love with the mortal who entered his forest. It didn't matter that the said mortal had a wife and child. He would make him his. Years later, Yue willingly jumps through a fairy ring to bring back what the fae stole from her.

This AU is split into three parts: The Abduction, The Change, and The Rescue.

Part I: The Abduction

Macaque, Shanzha, and Yue (who are all humans in this AU) went out camping as a family one beautiful summer.

Fae Lord Wukong catches sight of Macaque and falls in love with the mortal instantly. Taking a mortal form, he lures Macaque away from his family. He tricks him into giving Wukong his true name. After that, he whisks the mortal away through a fairy ring.

While enthralled by Wukong's beauty, Macaque's love for his family and his iron wedding band gives him enough clarity to start struggling against the Fae Lord.

Fae Lord RinRin hears her husband complain about his lover's stubborn attachment to his mortal life and decides to sever it by killing the wife and snatching the child. She fails spectacularly when she takes one look at Shanzha and falls in love.

So, RinRin decides to approach Shanzha in a mortal form, get close to her, and then whisk her (and Yue) away into the Fae Realm. She's only half successful since Yue managed to slip away at the last second.

Macaque and Shanzha reunite in the Fae Realm and try to escape. Their fae kidnappers make a game of it. If the humans win, they can go home. If they fail, they stay in the realm forever.

Despite passing many of the trials set in front of them, Macaque and Shanzha lose when they're both inevitably charmed into the Fae Lords' beds in a moment of weakness. They take their defeat happily (their emotions are influenced mostly by fae magic).

What Wukong and RinRin didn't tell them was that they would have never won. They had already consumed food in the Fae Realm. They would have eventually crawled back or died of starvation.

At some point, Macaque and Shanzha snap out of their happy haze long enough to flee. They make it out of the boundaries of Wukong and RinRin's lands, which are the Summer and Spring Courts, respectively.

Part II: The Change

Being exposed to the Fae Realm started to affect Macaque and Shanzha and change them as they survived in their suddenly harsh environment. But they remain as their situation is better than being enthralled puppets of their kidnappers.

Macaque grew more ears. Shanzha's teeth and nails sharpened. Macaque's shadows started to move on their own. Shanzha's steps start to leave behind frost. They both gained monkey-like features, reminiscent of the natural forms of their fae.

The Autumn and Winter Courts were empty as their previous rulers had either disappeared or were struck down by Wukong and RinRin.

After growing into their new powers and forms, Macaque and Shanzha take over the seats of power and become the new rulers of the realm.

While they sometimes miss and yearn for Wukong and RinRin, they're also very bitter about being taken away from their old life and their child. So they are in constant conflict with the Spring and Summer Courts, who are unaware of their old identities.

The Seelie and Unseelie Court are embroiled in constant fights.

Part III: The Rescue

Years later in mortal years, Yue grows up beautifully under the care of her godparents DBK and Iron Fan. While she's still haunted by the events that took her parents away from her, she managed to move on and make a life for herself. She's even engaged.

Her spouse-to-be turned out to be a Changeling and was snatched back into the Fae Realm just a day before the wedding. Witnessing this, Yue jumps in after them.

Yue somehow comes out into the other side in the Autumn and Winter Court where she reunites with her parents, who are very changed.

Their reunion is tearful and very emotional.

Yue's beloved is stuck in the Spring and Summer Court, so she fights her way to them with her parents' help. It's very dramatic.

Wukong manages to take out Macaque's eye during the battle before he realizes his enemy's true identity. RinRin has a similar revelation. Struck with guilt and desperate to have them back, Wukong and RinRin allow Yue and her beloved to safely return home - no fae tricks this time.

Shadowpeach and Iceflower's relationships remain open-ended since forgiveness would take a lot of groveling and time, which the fae have a lot of. Perhaps Macaque and Shanzha eventually forgive them and take them in as lovers again. Perhaps Wukong and RinRin are stuck pining and yearning as their beloveds try to stab them. Who knows?

There are two endings:

"Good" Ending - Yue and her beloved reunite and escape back to the mortal realm, but not without a tearful goodbye to Macaque and Shanzha. She finds her closure and steps into her new life with her beloved and their families in the mortal realm.

"Bad" Ending - Yue's beloved embraces their fae nature and forces Yue to stay in the realm with them. She mourns the loss of her human life but is comforted that at least she's still with her parents.

[bitbybitwrites]

WIP ASK ME GAME

I was tagged by @wordsofhoneydew and @itsmaybitheway. Thank you so much for thinking of me! Sorry for the delay - it took me longer than usual to think of descriptions of all the WIP I've got in the works 😂

So here are some Klaine and RWRB fics I'm working on that anyone can feel free to ask me about if you'd like:)

A long WIP list can be found under the break!

Partially published WIP:

(Klaine) If I Can Make Your Heart My Home - (Klaine Reverse Bang 2023) Life in New York City and working in the restaurant industry wasn’t exactly what Kurt Hummel had expected it would be. He’s lonely, stressed out and miserable. He’s almost ready to throw in the towel and return home to Ohio when a chance meeting with a musician in Central Park changes everything. (Warning: an angsty rollercoaster of a ride. Soooo many cameos from Glee characters! 😉)

(Klaine) Falling For You -(Klaine Secret Santa 2023 - NOW COMPLETE AS OF 4/16/24) - Successful doctor, Blaine Anderson has his hands full heading up the pediatric wing of Sloan Kettering Memorial Hospital in NY City. Life with that job and his precocious 6 year old daughter certainly keeps him on his toes - so much so that he thinks he can avoid dealing with the hole left in his life from the death of his husband. Little does he know that falling in love is on the horizon, quite literally, when he meets a florist by the name of Kurt Hummel. (Kid!fic with a bit of angst but a happy ending)

(RWRB) Puppy Love - (RWRB NYE gift exchange 2023) The cold snowy day that Henry Fox discovers an abandoned beagle puppy in an alley brings handsome, flirty veterinarian, Alex Claremont-Diaz into his life. Alex is a single dad, recently moved to NY with his young son who Henry hasn't met yet - or so Alex thought. (Fluffy kid!fic)

(Klaine) Sanctuary - (Klaine Word Scramble 2023) Crown Prince Blaine has stumbled into a secluded glade, trying to escape the horrors of the bloody war his father had brought upon their kingdom. Mourning his beloved older brother and faced with the burden of taking his place in the kingdom, Blaine yearns for a place to hid from the world to deal with the issues weighing on his heavy heart. He encounters a mysterious elf, the guardian of the magical spring that Blaine has mistakenly defiled, whose growing connection to his life the young prince can't ignore. (Inspired by an idea/ artwork by @datshitrandom and @justgleekout)

Not published yet WIP :

(these are in various states of readiness: some outlined, some partially written, some still in the brainstorming/research phase)

(RWRB) I approach, and I withdraw (tentative title) - Historical fic - Alejandro Diaz was still a boy when he followed his father into the thick of the fight for Mexico's independence. A series of unfortunate events, however, led him and his family to flee his home and to adopt new identities for their own safety. Years later, after he finds himself well ensconced in his new life as an attaché to the office of the new American ambassador to England, Alexander Claremont soon finds his past catching up to him. (Inspired by these historical paintings by @stormtrooperjeff17004 as well as artwork from @artofobsession seen here and here.)

(RWRB) Shaken, Not Stirred (Spy!AU) - CIA Officer Alex Claremont Diaz is not new to working on joint operations with other foreign agencies. He does it often and he does it well, which is why his superior, Zahra Bankston, never hesitates to assign them to him. What he wasn't expecting that morning was to be put on a new assignment with his least favorite MI6 operative, Henry Fox - and that they had to use being a newly married couple as their cover to get the job done. (Inspired by this drawing by @noodles-and-tea )

(Klaine) Cuffed (a D/s and soulmate story and prequel to my first ever fic, Trick or Treat) - - Musician Blaine Anderson has always been lonely sub, yearning for a place to belong and someone to belong to. Kurt Hummel is the an overworked and high in demand designer - a Dom with no time to sit and relax and focus on what his needs are. When an old friend hires Kurt to revamp his new club, Kurt's life becomes intertwined with Blaine's in a way neither of them could ignore.

(Klaine) Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weenie (Day 2 /Bikini - Klaine Advent 2023/ PWP) - A casual little fashion critique while the boys are on a well needed vacation, leads to a little outdoor fun. (Set in my Trick or Treat AU)

(RWRB) how ardently i admire and love you (online auction!AU) - Alex is desperate to find the perfect birthday gift for Henry, and eventually finds himself in an online bidding war for the one unique item that he knows his boyfriend would just adore.

(Klaine) I Know You Wanna Take Me Home (tentative title) (Klaine Valentines Challenge 2024/Pretty Woman!AU) Well established business man, Kurt Hummel never thought he could find anyone of substance among the escorts at Dalton House. But after being convinced to visit the upscale club by his friend, Kurt's mind is quickly changed once he sets his eyes on a beautiful boy in a gilded cage who was up for auction that night.

(Klaine) Untitled Klaine fic (Klaine Advent 2022) - Set in my Klaine superhero AU - Under The Cover of Darkness) Blaine decides to go home with Kurt for the holidays and doesn't make the best first impression with Kurt's parents.

(Klaine) Untitled Klaine fic (Feudal Japan!AU) - based off of novel The Tokaido Road - On a personal mission to avenge the murder of his father, Kurt travels the Tokaido , braving its dangers and interesting characters on the way. As the son of a nobleman, Kurt travels in disguise, unaware that the person who sanctioned his father's murderer has also sent Blaine, a talented and deadly ronin, to find and kill Kurt as well.

(RWRB)- the phantom touch of your hand (tentative title) - (Fantasy/cursed tattoo fic!AU) Two young swordsmen are determined to vanquish a sorcerer who has laid a tragic curse on them both. The problem is, the curse keeps them from being together at the same time, doomed to travel alone, one by day, the other by night - the only reminder of the other being the cursed tattoo burned into their skin.

(Klaine) - Untitled Klaine fic (While You were Sleeping!AU) - Kurt Hummel always wanted to live in NYC - his dreams were to be on Broadway. Being on the Broadway stage that is. Not working on the corner of Broadway and 44th in one of those coffee/food carts parked out on the street. Things for him change the day that Cooper Anderson, Kurt's gorgeous repeat customer whom he secretly fantasizes about, nearly gets hit by a bus. After following him to the hospital, Kurt gets mistaken for being his crush's fiancee which should have been his dream come true - until he meets Cooper's sweet down to earth brother, Blaine.

(Sebklaine) Let you put your hands on me (PWP College threesome) - heavily influenced by "one of those movies" - wink, wink . . - Kurt's frustrated ( in more ways than one) and his good friends Blaine and Sebastian find a way to help him out.

(Klaine/RWRB) - Untitled fic (Scheherazade/ 1001 Arabian Nights !AU) - A lone traveler gets captured by a band of sex slavers in the desert. After being subjected to the horrors of slavery, the young man gets rescued by a desert prince in disguise, chosen to be his sole consort. Every evening, the consort tells his prince a story for him amusement. - planning a series of probably shorts all in the same style. Maybe it'll be a collection to do with other writers? Not sure yet. Might alternate with either Henry/Alex being the Prince and Consort and Blaine/Kurt being the characters in the bedtime tales or vice versa. Or maybe create 2 OC to be the Prince/Consort and have the other four boys be the characters in the shorter stories. I'm assuming it would be alot of mature/explicit shorts - but wouldn't mind a mix of other ratings in between as well.

Tagging ( only if they want to play): @myheartalivewrites, @clottedcreamfudge, @hkvoyage, @kirakiwiwrites, @gleefulpoppet,

@gleefuldarrencrissfan, @onthewaytosomewhere, @sarkyblueeyes, @madas-ahatters-world @rougedraconteur,

@yadivagirl @lilinas, @forabeatofadrum, @kiwiana-writes, @spaceorphan18,

@special-bc-ur-part-of-it, @fallevs @daisyishedwig @annepi-blog @wowbright

@backslashdelta @kurtsascot @coffeegleek @14carrotghoul @rockitmans

@teilo @iboatedhere, @orchidscript @welcometololaland

. . oh hell and anyone else who sees this and wants to share their WIP - go for it!

[dorytoss]

💘 IVY BRANNON FOR @flocy-sims NESTLED WITH NAFISA

Identity: Female Age: Young Adult Traits: Materialistic, Bookworm, Adventurous, Daydreamer (optional) Sexual Identity: Bisexual (publicly out) Favourite colour: Pink. She always tries to put Pink in her clothing. Your funny pink girly with glasses (rarely see sims with glasses and I want more of that as I wear glasses daily too)

LIKES :

To read,

to sing & play the piano (wanted to be a singer when she was young),

to travel and discover new horizons,

Loves physical contact,

Favorite type of date: a picnic date, where her lover and she could paint, read, and just cuddle forever.

DISLIKES :

To cook. She hates it. NEVER let her near a kitchen. Unless someone actually teaches her how to.

She hates fitness too. It's a chance that she doesn't gain wait easily because if she did, it would be a disaster.

Backstory:

Ivy has had a pretty good life. She was born and raised in Brindleton Bay, the city of animals. Her parents were nice, and her home was, well, homey. After the end of high school, she didn't want to be stuck at college. Instead, she dreamt of adventures, and fantasies, like the one she read in the many many books in her library. Oh yeah, Ivy is a bookworm. The scent of books, the noise of pages turning, that's such a turn-on for her. In the pure way of course. Anyway, with that in mind, Ivy asked her parents to go globetrotting for a year: Mount Komorebi, Selvadorada, Tartosa... You named it and she has visited it. She actually has an Instagram account where she posts pictures of her globetrotting journey. Maybe she'll have that in common with Nafisa? However, Ivy longs for stability after such a long time on the road. She finally wants to go to college and settle with someone. During her globetrotting, she had flings here and there, and trust me, IT WAS A BLAST. But now, she wants to actually see what it would be like to have a long-term partner.

Why participate in this challenge?

Well, Ivy hates boring. I mean, she globetrotted for god sake. So when she came across this announcement for the chance to win the heart and satisfy the appetite of Nafisa Echoe. And the fact that Nafisa was such a treat for the eye, well... let's just say she couldn't pass on the occasion. More than that, this opportunity might make Ivy create more memories and have an adventure worthy of being told in a book, far better than what she experienced before: Friends, betrayal, jealousy perhaps? This sure could be a great book, let it be if she wins or not. And who knows, perhaps the last chapter of that book could be "Our Happy End: Nafisa and Ivy".

More about her personality and goal for the future below!!

Personality:

Who am I to spoil you with her personality... when you can discover it during the show with Nafisa and the others? What I can tell you is that: Ivy is materialistic. Yeah bummer, she's not perfect. She picked it up during her globetrotting. While she may project an image of modesty and contentment, beneath the surface lies a relentless desire for material possessions and the status they confer. She knows she doesn't always need new bright and shiny things. But she just can't help herself. Perhaps it was always there, even when she was young. She’s always yearning for the shiniest thing, even if she wasn’t able to afford it. This actually caused her to go bankrupt during her trip, as she always wanted more than she could get.

Goals for the future:

- Become an author - Write a book about her adventures during her globetrotting - Obtain a literature degree from Britechester - Find love - Have a very big library in her future home.

[valaenatargaryensdragon]

Legacy of Fire (II)

Chapter Two: Departure

Summery: Vaeloria Targaryen begins her journey

Warnings: Cursing, death by sword, death by fire, death by hanging, war, humiliation, betrayal, violence, use of the word bastard, incest, angst, fluff, burning, threatening, future smut, P in V, fingering, cunnilingus, scissoring, blowjob, handjob, anal sex, girl x girl, boy x girl, boy x boy, dragons

Word Count: 2,6K

The moon hung low in the night sky, its pale light casting long, ghostly shadows across the chamber of Vaeloria Targaryen. The room, once a sanctuary where she had dreamt of dragons and heroic deeds, now seemed oppressive, its walls closing in around her. She moved with a sense of purpose, packing her belongings into a simple leather satchel.

Gently, she folded her Targaryen garments, each thread infused with the weight of her heritage. The dragon and wolf pendant, its silver chain cold against her fingers, rested next to her heart. It was a reminder of the legacy she bore, a legacy she had only recently discovered.

Her father, Rhaegar Targaryen, had always been a distant figure in her life, his memory a hazy specter of a time she could barely recall. The tales of his songs and prophecies had always intrigued her, but they had never truly defined her until now.

As she reached for a well-worn book of Dornish poetry, a soft, hesitant knock sounded at her chamber door. She paused, her heart quickening, and then hurriedly stashed the book in her satchel. Her life had become a tapestry of secrets, woven together with threads of deception and danger.

“Come in,” she called, her voice steady despite the turmoil raging within her.

The door swung open, revealing two figures who slipped into the room with the grace of whispers. They were Tyene and Elia Martell, her cousins, the daughters of Oberyn Martell. Their expressions were a blend of confusion and concern, their eyes wide with worry.

“Rhaenys,” Tyene began, using the name they had known her by for years, “what are you doing? Why are you packing in the dead of night?”

Elia’s hazel eyes, so much like her sister’s, mirrored her worry. “Is something wrong?” she asked softly.

Vaeloria hesitated for a moment, torn between her duty to keep her true identity hidden and her love for her cousins. She couldn’t tell them the truth, not yet, not until she understood it fully herself. “I’ve had restless dreams,” she replied carefully, “and a yearning for something more than what Sunspear can offer. I need to find myself, to discover who I truly am.”

Tyene and Elia exchanged uncertain glances. “But why so suddenly?” Tyene pressed. “And in the middle of the night?”

Vaeloria knew she needed a convincing lie, a tale spun from threads of half-truths and crafted with the care of a practiced storyteller. “I’ve heard whispers,” she said, her voice tinged with false concern, “whispers of a Targaryen resurgence, of a new dawn for our family. I cannot ignore it. I want to see the truth for myself, to be a part of this change.”

Elia’s expression softened, and she stepped closer, her hand reaching out to touch Vaeloria’s arm. “You could be in danger out there,” she said, her voice filled with sisterly concern. “You must take someone with you, at least for your safety.”

Vaeloria’s heart sank. She had hoped to slip away unnoticed, to embark on this journey alone, but her cousins’ protective instincts were unyielding. After a moment’s thought, she relented, realising that their concern was rooted in genuine love for her.

“Very well,” she said, her voice tinged with reluctant acceptance. “I’ll take Lara, my trusted maid, and Ser Ian Caerlight, my sworn protector. They will ensure my safety.”

Tyene and Elia exchanged glances once more, finally relenting. “Promise us you’ll return safely,” Tyene implored.

Vaeloria nodded, her eyes glistening with gratitude for her cousins’ love and concern. “I promise.”

With that, she closed up her satchel, her hands trembling as she secured the last of her possessions. The room felt emptier now, as if a piece of her heart had been packed away with her belongings.

As they left her chambers, Tyene and Elia walked by her side, their presence a comforting reminder of the family she would leave behind. They descended the grand staircase of Sunspear, the ancient castle that had been her home, and stepped out into the moonlit courtyard.

The night air was cool against her skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of the Dornish sun she had known all her life. Vaeloria felt a mixture of relief and sorrow as she crossed the threshold. Her departure marked the beginning of a journey filled with secrets and uncertainty, a journey into the heart of Westeros where she would uncover the truth of her lineage and fulfil the legacy she carried in her heart.

Under the watchful gazes of Tyene and Elia, Vaeloria took her first steps into the moonlit night, accompanied by her trusted Lara, her loyal maid, stood by her side, her dark eyes filled with determination. Ser Ian Caerlight, a towering figure in gleaming armor, had taken his place as her sworn protector. The road ahead was shrouded in darkness, but Vaeloria was determined to navigate it with courage and purpose.

She turned to her cousins one last time, a bittersweet smile on her lips. “Thank you,” she said, her voice soft but filled with gratitude. “For understanding, for caring.”

Tyene embraced her tightly, whispering words of love and encouragement. Elia followed suit, her hazel eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “Take care of yourself, Rhaenys,” Elia said, using the name they had always known her by, a name she no longer possessed, it did not belong to her. This name she did not deserve, apparently the story of a servant's child having taken the place of poor baby Rhaenys was a lie after all and the real one had died the horrible death people shuddered when reminded of. Vaeloria wanted to tell them, but she did not have the heart to throw this truth in their faces, their poor hearts wouldn't be able to take it, not after their father's death, not after everything they've been through.

With their blessings and promises of reunion, Vaeloria, Lara, and Ser Ian Caerlight set out into the night, leaving behind the familiar walls of Sunspear. The path ahead was unknown, a tapestry of uncertainty waiting to be unraveled.

As they ventured further from the palace, Vaeloria couldn’t help but wonder about the truths she would uncover and the challenges she would face. Her heart beat with a sense of adventure and the weight of her true name, Vaeloria, that had been revealed to her, a name that meant the Valiant Queen in the language of her ancestors, a language she insisted to learn from a young age.

With each step, she moved closer to her destiny, determined to rewrite the story of House Targaryen and fulfil the legacy she carried within her. The journey had begun, and Vaeloria Targaryen was ready to face whatever lay ahead.

The night was alive with the sounds of Dorne as Vaeloria and her small retinue made their way through the winding streets of Sunspear. The city had always been a place of vibrant colours, exotic scents, and bustling markets, but tonight, it seemed different, as if it were holding its breath, waiting for something to change.

Lara, Vaeloria’s trusted maid, walked beside her, her steps soft and sure. She had been with Vaeloria since childhood, a loyal confidante who had shared in both her joys and sorrows. Her presence brought comfort to the young Targaryen as they navigated the unfamiliar terrain of secrecy and uncertainty.

Ser Ian Caerlight, the sworn protector assigned to her by House Martell, kept a vigilant watch over their surroundings. His armour gleamed in the moonlight, and the hilt of his sword was within easy reach. He had sworn an oath to safeguard Vaeloria’s life, and he took that duty with the utmost seriousness.

As the moon cast its silvery glow upon the road ahead, Vaeloria could no longer bear the weight of her hidden truth. Lara and Ser Ian Caerlight had been her loyal companions, steadfast in their support, and they deserved to know the full extent of her identity.

Vaeloria slowed her pace, causing Lara and Ser Ian to do the same. Her voice quivered with the magnitude of the revelation she was about to make. “Lara, Ser Ian,” she began, “there is something I’ve kept from you, something that no one else in this world knows.”

Both Lara and Ser Ian turned their attention to Vaeloria, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and concern. The night seemed to hold its breath, waiting for her to continue.

“I am not who I’ve pretended to be,” Vaeloria confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. “I am not Rhaenys Targaryen. My true name is Vaeloria. Vaeloria Targaryen.”

The words hung in the air, a revelation that shattered the foundation of the life they had known. Lara’s eyes widened in disbelief, while Ser Ian’s stern countenance softened with understanding.

Vaeloria nodded, her heart heavy with the weight of the truth. “Yes,” she confirmed. “Jon Snow is my brother, and we were separated at birth to protect us from those who wished harm upon House Targaryen.”

Ser Ian, ever the stoic protector, absorbed the revelation with a sense of duty. “My lady,” he said, addressing Vaeloria by her true name, “your safety and your mission remain our highest priorities. Your lineage does not change our loyalty to you.”

Lara’s eyes shimmered with emotion as she spoke. “You are our lady, Vaeloria Targaryen, the true heir of House Targaryen. We will stand by your side, as we always have.”

Vaeloria felt a profound sense of relief and gratitude. Her decision to reveal her true identity had been a momentous one, and she was relieved that her trusted companions had accepted it without hesitation.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice filled with sincerity. “We are embarking on a journey that will reshape the fate of House Targaryen and the entire realm of Westeros. Together, as a family, we will navigate this path and reclaim our legacy.”

With her secret finally unveiled, Vaeloria, the Dragon, continued her journey northward, her heart filled with newfound strength and purpose. She was no longer burdened by the weight of deception, and her true identity would guide her as she sought to reunite with Jon Snow and rewrite the story of House Targaryen.

As they made their way through the city, Vaeloria couldn’t help but feel a pang of nostalgia. She had grown up here, amidst the splendor of Sunspear, where the shadow of House Martell loomed large. It had been her sanctuary, and her cousins, Tyene and Elia, her closest confidantes. Now, she was leaving it all behind in pursuit of her true identity.

The streets grew quieter as they ventured farther from the palace, and Vaeloria’s thoughts turned to the challenges that lay ahead. She had learned the truth of her lineage, but the world beyond Sunspear was vast and unforgiving. She had to find Jon Snow, her long-lost twin, and seek out Daenerys Targaryen, her aunt, to continue the legacy of House Targaryen.

But she also knew that her journey would be fraught with danger. There were those who would stop at nothing to extinguish the last remnants of House Targaryen, and she had to remain vigilant.

Lara, ever perceptive, spoke softly, breaking the silence. “My lady, are you certain this is the right path?”

Vaeloria nodded, her resolve unwavering. “I must know the truth of my family, of who I am. Sunspear cannot contain me any longer.”

Ser Ian Caerlight’s voice was gruff but filled with loyalty. “We’ll protect you with our lives, my lady. You have our word.”

Vaeloria smiled at her two trusted companions. Their unwavering support meant more to her than words could express. “Thank you, both of you. We’ll face this journey together, as a family.”

As they continued through the night, the world of Westeros stretched out before them, a vast and mysterious realm waiting to be explored. Vaeloria knew that every step would bring her closer to her destiny, and she was determined to embrace it with the same spirit of courage and determination that had defined her life thus far.

The legacy of House Targaryen had awakened within her, and with it came the responsibility to rewrite the story of her family. The road ahead might be perilous, but Vaeloria Targaryen was ready to face it, armed with the truth of her identity and the unwavering support of those who believed in her.

As they walked on beneath the Dornish stars, the world watched, unknowing, as the Dragon embarked on her journey to reclaim her legacy and reshape the fate of Westeros.

Under the watchful gaze of the Dornish stars, Vaeloria and her companions ventured further into the night, the path ahead illuminated only by the pale moonlight. The world of Westeros was vast, and its mysteries awaited discovery. Each step they took was a step closer to the truth, a step deeper into the tapestry of intrigue that enshrouded their family’s legacy.

As they moved through the quiet streets of Sunspear, Vaeloria’s thoughts were a whirlwind of emotions. She carried the weight of her true identity, the knowledge that she was not Rhaenys but Vaeloria Targaryen, the lost twin of Jon Snow. The burden of her heritage was both a source of strength and a shadow that clung to her.

Lara, her loyal maid, remained by her side, her presence a soothing balm to Vaeloria’s unease. She had been more than a servant; she had been a friend, a confidante, and a pillar of support through the years. Her unwavering loyalty had been a constant in Vaeloria’s life, and tonight was no different.

Ser Ian Caerlight, the sworn protector, maintained a vigilant watch over their surroundings. His eyes, sharp as a hawk’s, scanned the darkened alleys and corners. His every movement spoke of unwavering dedication to his duty, and Vaeloria knew that he would defend her with his life.

Their journey took them through the heart of Sunspear, past the grand bazaars that had once been Vaeloria’s playground. She remembered the laughter of children, the tantalising aroma of spices, and the vibrant tapestries that adorned the stalls. Tonight, those memories seemed distant, overshadowed by the gravity of her quest.

As they reached the outskirts of the city, Vaeloria glanced back at Sunspear one last time. It was a city of secrets and intrigue, a place where the legacy of House Martell had thrived for generations. Now, she was venturing beyond its walls, into a world where the Targaryen name carried both power and peril.

The road stretched before them, a ribbon of moonlit silver leading to an uncertain future. Vaeloria knew that they would encounter challenges and adversaries on their journey, but she was resolute in her determination to uncover the truth of her family and forge her own destiny.

Lara broke the silence once more, her voice gentle. “My lady, do you have any idea where we should begin our search?”

Vaeloria paused, her mind racing with possibilities. “We must head north, towards the Wall,” she replied, her voice filled with conviction. “There, we may find Jon Snow, my twin, and from him, we may learn more about our family’s legacy.”

Ser Ian Caerlight nodded in agreement. “The Wall is a formidable place, my lady. We’ll need to tread carefully, for it is a land of ice and danger.”

Vaeloria acknowledged the warning, knowing that their journey would be perilous. But she also understood that she could not turn back. The truth of her identity and the destiny that awaited her compelled her forward.

With every step they took, the world of Westeros unfolded around them, a tapestry of kingdoms, alliances, and betrayals. Vaeloria carried the legacy of House Targaryen on her shoulders, and as the Dragon, she was determined to rewrite the story of her family.

The night was their cloak, the stars their witnesses, and the road their guide. The legacy of House Targaryen had awakened within her, and she was ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. The journey had just begun, and the fate of Westeros hung in the balance as the Dragon embarked on her quest for truth and redemption.

[angbands-last-hero]

Ilost Character Biography:

Father name: Unknown

Mother name: Unknown

Aliases: Ilost, Fjalar, Dregor, etc.

Stats:

First Age Elf

Birthplace: Brithombar 

Race: Sindar, Falathrim

Occupation: Thief, Assassin, Treasure-Hunter, Peddler and Con-Man 

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Gay

Looks:

Very tall for an ellon

Black choppy hair that falls past his shoulder, bangs are also long and usually obscures his features

Lean though muscled, his well-defined back and shoulders suggests that he is a climber

Sharp stone gray eyes that sometimes appear darker

Olive undertone skin, sometimes looks a little grey

High bridged nose with well-defined cheekbones 

A mysterious air clings over him, off putting to some 

Dressed in a strange assortment of clothes, seemingly of mortal make. He often wears earthy tones or dark colors suited for the shadows. On his narrow hips sit two daggers, as well as his skeleton keys (some new, others ancient), and hidden from sight are his burglar tools. 

 Artwork: Here and Here by myself (also just tagged on this blog w/ his name) and Here and Here by my friend (@loremastering ) (she's made so much beautiful art it's hard to only pick two :') )

Smell:

Smoky campfire scent mixed with nag champa and an underlying deep musk 

Sound:

Voice is on the deeper side, and typically he speaks in a low volume unless playing a gregarious character. His characters are typically louder than he normally presents himself

He responds with dry sarcasm to most situations

Hard to tell if he is lying or telling the truth, who knows!

Can speak a variety of languages, and is a master at mimicking accents

Playlist: Here and Metal version Here

General:

Is a wanderer with no real purpose in life; an exile from his homeland which lays in ruins beneath the sea

If you find a chest belonging to: Digum Baggins…it's his. (Especially if there is a jar with preserved figs. He loves his figs!)

Amoral, secretive and cunning. He can be charming if desired, and tends to be very sarcastic

He is very confident in his own skill, and it has mostly proved itself true over the many years he's lived 

Fears death and his fate (for a good reason). He envies the second born who are not tied to Arda

Has commitment issues and is suspicious of most people. He does not let people easily into his life, nor do most feel like they get to genuinely know him on a deeper level. He always wears an emotional mask, though sometimes that mask slips. 

Generally, very self-motivated and can lack empathy towards others in need

He is quick to flee rather than fight, though if caught in a duel he is well trained with his daggers and also knows how to wrestle 

He is also quick to leave his allies behind, always seeking to ensure his own safety before the safety of others

He lives in nature mostly or settles around non-elven settlements. He does not feel comfortable in the elven realms and seldom visits them

When staying in human settlements, he usually takes up a persona and parades around as one! His latest alias is a Dalish peddler named “Fjalar, The Tall”. He enjoys his role and plays out his fantasy of being a human

When not disguised as a mortal, it is typical to find a mask covering his face. It seems he likes to keep his identity hidden

He has had a string of different lovers throughout the ages, though they were all fleeting and always doomed to end.

He yearns for deeper emotional and romantic relationships but is also afraid of being vulnerable. 

Harbors quite a bit of self-hatred, though tends to not voice it. He can also be quite a loner, sometimes despising company.

Keeps a flask with usually watered down vodka or gin on his person

Currently occupied with a much younger ellon named Daerhovan. He finds him intriguing and sees him as a welcome distraction in his life. Though who knows for how long.

I stole the formatting off my friends @loremastering and @elgaladwen who have even better and more extensive biographies than myself (which includes character history and relationships! ) I envy the dedication and detail they put towards their characters <3