#learning to cope using humor

[sodapopcurtis-dx-asks]

I was hanging around with Tim and we were in his room, and he wasn’t in there and I saw a bunch of letters sticking out of his dresser so I was like ‘let’s read them!’ Love letters. Tim and Dallas Winston. Old. Love. Letters. Did you know this??

Soda raises an eyebrow at the note, not really sure of what to make of it.

I ain't got a lick of an idea of what yer on about, to be quite frank.

But hey! Whatever happened between Dal n' Tim when Dallas was still kickin' ain't none of my business!

(Although... hearing of Tim Shepard n' THE Dallas Winston writing love letters to each other sure does sound funny.)

Soda giggled, trying to imagine the scene. Picturing Tim and Dallas being cutesy and writing each other love notes was something that tickled Soda.

He shook his head and kept laughing as he wrote.

If that's so, then good on 'em, I suppose? Haha!

I don't really know what's most appropriate to say! A bit odd to think about. And be told.

Kind of an invasion on privacy, don'tcha think? Tsk tsk...

Soda draws a winky face underneath his writings and laughs to himself a little more before putting the note back in the jar.

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

To Your Love That Smells Like Crazy

Synopsis: Damian presented as an alpha, to everyone's despair. He announced he found a mate, to everyone's skepticism. You're the perfect omega, to everyone's delight.

Pairing: Yandere!Alpha!Batboys X Gn!AFAB!Omega!Reader

Tw: 18+ pwp; noncon/dubcon smut; noncon drugging; creepy batfamily members feeling attracted to Reader when they were still 15, but nothing sexual or romantic between them happens until they're 18; this chapter is mostly Damian x Reader; ABO, Reader is an omega, all the batboys are alphas; Heat symptoms; Damian and Reader are 15 at first, when the smut happens they're 18, Tim is three years older than them, Jason is five years older, Dick is 10 years older and Bruce is on his 40s; Implied future gangbang? They want to share Reader (polyamory) but right now the real action is just between Damian and Reader; Loss of virginity on both parts; Implied that Damian is also inexperienced on kissing and Reader knows a little more about that; Fingering!R receiving; Slight schoolgirl/boy/person!Reader; Reader wears lipgloss, nail polish and earrings; Omegas breasts produce milk during heat; Some breastfeeding; Breeding kink; Handcuffs; The word ‘rape’ is used twice; Lots of crying; Nipple play; Dirty talk; Slight voyeurism; Unprotected sex; Negative and selfdeprecating thoughts; Claiming ownership (biting); English isn't my first language.

Word count: 4,7k

Requested? No.

Extra notes: Planning on making one pwp chapter for each batboy, and then a last one with no smut. Also, I think I'm gonna start posting on AO3 since the tw are getting worse...

General masterlist | To Your Love That Smells Like Crazy - Series masterlist

Damian was territorial, dominant and temperamental since the family had known him. Maybe he was born like that, maybe he wasn't, they couldn't know, so, what they most hoped for was that those were just personality traits, maybe coping mechanisms, and the puppy would present as an omega or beta one day, and then maybe the hormones would make him calm down. It was a small possibility, but one could only dream, right?!

Well, those hopes were crushed when, at his fifteenth birthday, Damian woke up growling at the mix of strong alpha scents stinking his room, his territory, and started pacing inside there, not allowing anyone but the old beta Alfred to come in.

He calmed down after a couple of hours, came out of his room to eat breakfast, assessed and scented the rest of his territory (everyone's territory, really, the manor was the family’s home), and maybe humor his inner alpha by subjugating the rest of the pack. It didn't work, obviously, they were all mature alphas who went through puberty already and knew how to (mostly) manage conflict with a newly-turned alpha who still smelt like milk and was just overwhelmed with hormones.

After a full belly, it was decided he shouldn't have to go to school for the first few days (something the teenager was happy with), to learn to control his mood and impulses, visit a specialized doctor to be sure what kind of suppressants were better suited for his organism, and so he could go through his first rut in peace.

A few days later, Damian went back to school, nose itching from some not-so-pleasant alpha scents, some weak beta scents, some sugary omega scents, and a lot of milky scents coming from most students, especially unpresented puppies.

He wondered how adults live like this, if he would just get used to it, and it wouldn't bother him so much one day. One thing was to feel the smell of flowers or food, another thing was to feel people’s pheromones. But his train of thoughts were halted when he felt you.

Not even inside the classroom yet, but he could sniff you out and find you if he wanted to. Strong, yet suave, soft. Strawberries. And milk. It made his whole body shudder and tremble. Now he knew why his family occasionally asked where the delicious scent stuck to his clothes came from. Now he knew why alphas turned their heads and stared at you so much when you both were walking around. It was all you. His best friend.

Damian stared openly and unconsciously, while you made your way to him none the wiser and sat down at his side, and he almost got annoyed when, at first, you didn't seem to notice his new presentation, as if you didn't even acknowledge him as an alpha yet. But then you turned and stared at him strangely.

— Dude, why’re you staring so mu- Oh. — You blinked, finally having realized where the new musky scent was coming from. — You're lucky you smell good. My neighbor smells like feet.

When he came home, he announced he had an omega.

Obviously, that left everyone bewildered as to what he meant by that, it was impossible for during his first day back outside as an alpha, he already had a mate. But he didn't have to explain much for them to understand, the scent on his clothes was enough proof as to why he wanted you for himself.

After that, Damian invited you to hang out with him at the manor for the first time. It caused a reaction in everyone, and all of them were home, of course they were, Damian wanted to show off his future mate, and you had to meet the family, since he single-handedly decided you were going to join their pack already.

As you walked past each door on the way to Damian's room, everyone had a reaction.

The old beta and grandfather, Alfred, was very polite and nice, he smelt like tea. He smiled more freely with how sweet you were, amused by Damian's clear crush.

Next, you passed Dick by the gym, he smelt spicy, and his door was open, so he could peek better to satiate his curiosity when Damian's crush arrived, yet, he didn't expect to almost fall from his stretching position when he finally took a whiff from your sweet scent for the first time, instead of just the faint and weak thing that occasionally got stuck on Damian's clothes and hair. He managed to look mostly presentable even though he almost sprinted to the corridor to meet you. Dick was even more pleased to see you were beautiful, even in your modest school uniform. He forced himself to hold back and stay in the gym when Damian decided the interaction took long enough, and pulled you to keep walking.

Jason was next, he was in the library. His scent was thick. Woody. He coughed around his drink when he felt your scent, and Damian rolled his eyes at him. Jason’s whole body froze when he saw how soft you looked, clearly an omega. He noted that you looked older than fifteen, but Jason knew you were just a couple of months older than Damian, and you still smelled like milk. His attraction to you bothered him because he couldn't ignore your still-milky scent, and he was already imagining how you would smell like when you fully reached maturity. Your hair was shiny and looked soft, like clouds and cotton-candy. He wanted to stick his nose there and hug you. You looked the perfect company for a nap (and more). Damian quickly steered you away to keep walking.

Next was Tim, he was in his room, and he smelt like peppermint. He always kept the door closed, but during your visit, it was open wide, due to his curiosity to meet you, everyone knew that. Tim snapped his eyes away from his computer when he felt you, and stared at you wide-eyed when you appeared. You didn't even come inside, Damian didn't want to feel your scent coming off of Tim's room to haunt him every time he walked past that door for the next days. It would definitely make him want to kill his brother. Tim tried to burn your image to his brain to the smallest details. He noted the color of your nail polish, your earrings, the thing dangling from your backpack, the shine and rosiness of your lip gloss. Tim specially liked your soft-spoken voice, and it bothered him how polite, neutral and distant it was, because clearly you both didn't now each other, you were just there as Damian's friend, meeting his older brother for the first time, and just wanted to go hole up inside Damian's room as soon as possible to avoid the weird interaction.

Soon, your wishes came through, and you spent the next few hours there with Damian basically teaching you everything and doing your homework. It was a new behavior, he never did that out of instinct before, some people asking him for help would annoy him, others, like you, he would calmly help out of the hidden kindness in his heart, but he never took initiative before. You brushed it off as just new alpha behavior and just used his either gentlemanly or condescending behavior, if it meant you could gain things out of it and be lazy.

At dinner, you finally met his father. Bruce Wayne was the alpha of a pack full of alphas and a beta. His himbo and playboy persona gave you the impression that he wasn't the most dominant alpha around, but you were proven wrong when you felt his sandalwood aroma and saw his towering frame. His personality was the same you saw on the TV, though, pleasant like a TV host or just a popular guy. On the inside, he was fixated with you, ignoring your milky childish scent and your school uniform. He wanted you around the house more. God knows how much a bit more of softness could help the family’s dynamic. Maybe that was what was missing, an omega around the place. Like you. Actually, it could be you. He thought about convincing Damian to stick to living in the manor even after you were both married adults. Or you could be Bruce’s when you were of age. Wait, how old were you?

Alfred drove you and Damian to your place after everything was done, all the alphas with a heavy heart, bothered that you had to go, that you couldn't spend the night with them yet. Even if you were already theirs.

It took a lot to convince Damian to share you, but eventually, he begrudgingly agreed, they were a pack, after all, not just a family, they stick together, take care of each other and of each other's interests. Having something that wasn't just vigilantism in common would be good bonding for them, and the closer a pack could get, the better. That he knew. A pack sharing someone wasn't exactly unheard of either.

After that, Damian started inviting you to the manor more often. Almost every week you were there. Your parents started saying that Damian probably was interested in you, but you laughed it off, never thinking an alpha like him would be interested in an omega like you.

The family made the best of that time to get you used to them, to their dynamic, and to make you feel at home, safe, trustful. They also wanted your scent to get stuck everywhere. To get to know you. To learn everything about you. To make plans.

When Damian's 18 birthday came, you were already legally an adult too, and they invited you over, saying it was a birthday party. When you got there, the party consisted in only you and the family.

The conversation was nice.

They put drugs on your piece of cake that simulated an out of cycle heat.

It started with fatigue.

Then fever.

Your eyes got blurred.

You thought you were getting sick, and just planned on taking cold medicine when you got home.

The alphas were slowly coming closer and circling you, unnoticed.

You felt weird in your intimate parts, maybe you needed to pee.

You stood up, but your knees were weak, and you almost fell, if it wasn't for Dick, who caught you mid-air.

All scents became clearer when your eyes locked. You wondered what the look on his face meant, confused.

You felt their excitement, and arousal. And you felt something poking your thigh.

You felt your own underwear getting wet.

You asked them to take you home, but they denied. That made you feel antsy, so you tried searching for your phone to call your parents to pick you up, but you couldn't find it. It got especially hard when Damian picked you up and started walking up the stairs with you.

— It's okay, omega. You're okay with us. I’m going to take care of you… — Your hands trembled when he purred the word ‘omega’, mumbled those words, and nuzzled the side of your head with his nose, taking a deep breath from your sweet strawberry scent, and faint sex smell, due to the wetness between your thighs. No longer any hint of milk anymore, since you already reached maturity just a couple of months before him, and now he also didn't smell like puppy anymore.

— N-No… D-Dami… W-Where are you taking me? What a-are you gonna do? … I wanna go home… I’m not feeling good… — You whimpered and tried to weakly move out of his hold, it didn't work.

— You are home, beloved. And I’m going to help you feel better… With my knot. — Your eyes widened. — I will fuck you real good and fill you with my semen. I know it is your first time, it is mine too. But do not worry, your heat will make it painless and you will be satisfied with me. — You whimpered higher, your omega was preening, crying for a knot, your pussy squeezing hard, but your mind knew it was wrong. Clearly something was wrong. Why was no one helping? Couldn't they see you were caught by surprise with your heat and were saying no to him? Why were they looking at you like that? A cough coming from somewhere seemed to snap Damian out of it, like he remembered something. — Ah, right. And then, you will receive father’s, and my siblings' knots. I will go first since it’s my birthday and I claimed you first. — Damian blushed, despite his smug tone. 

You cried for help, at first, it came out weak, as your omega didn't want to make something the alphas would disapprove of, but the closer you got to the room they designated for the moment, the reality of what was coming was overtaking your instincts. Especially after your belly started to hurt at being empty of seed.

The alphas only shushed you, and you helplessly watched as Tim handcuffed one of your hands to the bedpost as soon as Damian laid you down on the nest they made for you, and Dick and Jason each started taking your sneakers off. Bruce was standing a few feet away from the bed, Alfred at his side. The oldest alpha’s eyes were glued to your laid down figure, hungry and serious. Darker than you had ever seen. You've never been more scared of him before. He occasionally commented something to Alfred, that you vaguely registered as instructions, that also started being given to his children.

You weakly tugged at the handcuff and tried to sit up at the same time, but Damian pushed himself between your legs, and held you down by the waist. Dick and Jason held your legs open to accommodate him better, and your overwhelmed brain barely noticed their hands also rubbing your ankles and thighs. You've never felt more aroused and more scared your whole life. 

Alfred exited the room to start doing Bruce's orders, and he kept watching. Tim, who had disappeared out of your line of sight for a second, came back holding a long, shiny and glinting pair of scissors. You tugged harder at the restraints and tried to push your body up to get away, thinking he was going to hurt you, but he just purred at you to calm you down, unfortunately, it worked, and your pussy tightened when Damian hissed at feeling your center pressing against his hard cock, when you pushed your hips up and against his. You could feel him poking your underthigh, only the clothes separating you.

— It's okay, omega, I’m just cutting off your clothes, it's gonna be easier to strip you that way. — Tim said soothingly, while purring and almost cooing at you. Your eyes widened when he said that, and actually started cutting your shirt open, until Dick was able to pull the ruined fabric off from under you. 

All three alphas started purring at seeing your braless torso, chest already swelling with milk and nipples darkened. Omegas body produced milk when they had a puppy to feed, or during heats, and ruts, when an alpha was in a rut, and the omega was helping them, because the body understood it was a rough period, where a lot of energy was spent and not much nutrition came, since both were too busy procreating and too weak to go searching for food, so the milk was a lot helpful in those moments. There were even historical moments where that skill was useful in other contests, when the economy got so bad that most packs were starving, and the omegas of the pack helped them survive with milk.

Damian bit his lips and brought his right hand up to your left breast, squeezing it softly. Everyone was entranced, watching a single drop of milk come out, the breast not full yet. You arched your back, it felt good, so good that for a moment you forgot why you wanted to get away. Damian also didn't help your train of thought when his thumb started rubbing your stiff nipple, sending ripples of pleasure through your body and forcing your eyes closed. You forced yourself not to make a sound.

You snapped out of it when you felt Tim cutting your pants and underwear off. Your eyes widened at the feeling of being exposed and the almost cold air that made your hair stand. Your legs trembled and you felt Dick and Jason's hands working, uncoordinated pads of fingers dancing across the inside of your thighs. 

Your arousal’s scent freely infastated the room now, and half of them growled, in exception of Bruce and Tim, who were keeping themselves more calm and collected. 

— It's time to go now, let Damian and (Y/N) have their moment. — Bruce announced and you watched as Damian smirked, then you hid your face, sobbing against the pillow. He cooed at you while his other hand went down between your legs and started rubbing slow circles while pressing against your clit.

Dick sighed.

— Take care of them, Dami. Have fun and enjoy. — Dick patted Damian's shoulder, but you weren't sure the alpha above even noticed you, too busy gazing at you and your body, enjoying how warm and wet you were. 

— Yeah, remember to do what we taught you, baby bird. — Damian only hummed at Jason's comment, and leaned down, pressing his chest to yours. He brought his mouth to the juncture of your neck and shoulder, and started leaving a trail of kisses up your neck, and under your jaw.

It was your first time feeling someone doing this, when you read fanfics and books, you never thought this could feel good like the writing always described, but it actually did, and you hated that you liked it, crying harder against the pillow and hoping his lips weren't moving closer to your face because he wanted to kiss you. You felt his nose sniffing your scent gland.

Tim hummed.

— Be careful with them, and don't take too long, everyone wants their turn. — Tim warned softly and was the last to exit the room, closing the door, but not locking it.

Damian’s warm breath huffed against your neck.

— Finally alone… — Damian whispered with a hoarse voice that made your hair stand. You whimpered and squeezed your eyes harder.

— Please, let me go… You don't have to do this, I won't tell anyone- — Your sentence was cut short when one of Damian's long and thick fingers invaded your entrance delicately. Your mouth opened on a silent scream, and the alpha watched you with lust in his eyes.

— Beloved… Omega… You will come to like this, I promise you that… — He sucked a faint hickey on your scent gland. His right hand started exploring the rest of your body, fumbling and squeezing the softer parts he found out he liked the most. You couldn't control your panting and small moans when his finger curled upwards inside you, touching your sweet spot. 

— D-Dam-... A-Alpha… — You arched your back when he started fingering you faster, your sensitive walls milking a single finger, crying for a thick knot, thirsty for his seed, your womb empty of puppies. 

— See… — He kissed your cheek. — We barely started, and yet… — Another kiss, closer to your mouth. — You're already dripping and earning for my knot… — Your lips met, it didn't seem like he had much experience, maybe it was his first kiss? Either way, you knew a little more about what you were doing, and he quickly learned. In just a few minutes, he was dominating your mouth. The younger alpha gave a slow bite to your lips when a second finger joined the first in fucking you, wet noises eccoing around the room.

You gained some clearance after a few moments, when he took his fingers off. You whined, not knowing if it was to plead him not to rape you, or because you wanted his cock stuffing you as soon as possible. You tried to force your head away from his, and he relented, pausing the kiss, but only to start taking his own clothes off. If your face wasn't already hot from the fever and arousal, you knew it would be now, feeling shy with everything new that was happening and his naked body, and surprised that you never once noticed his muscles before. 

While afraid, you peeked down and saw his hard and bobbing dick, it was thick and above average, but not too much. Not too much for someone who wasn't a virgin like you were, that is.

You tried to sit up, to get away from him in a bolt of strength you didn't have until now, fighting your omega with as much as you could. But it proved to be no help, as it punished you by making your belly tug and hurt twice more. Your torso fell down on the bed again, powerless by pain, numbness, and the restraint around your wrist.

Damian only cooed, still kneeling above you and between your legs. You cried. You didn't feel his calloused hands holding and caressing your hips, but you felt the blunt wet tip against your entrance. You were ruined.

Your parents would hate you. They would say it was your fault for ignoring their warnings and shoving yourself inside a home full of alphas with no omega. They would kick you out of the pack. And if the Wayne's did good on their word of raping you one after the other, you would probably get pregnant, as you weren't on birth control. That is, if they didn't kill you or kept you hostage in their basement. And even if your pack wanted to, they wouldn't be able to do anything to get justice for you, as the Wayne's were much more influential and rich. You were only going to the same school as Damian because your parents worked as teachers there, for god's sake. You were doomed. And if they decided to mark you…

You cried harder, ashamed of being so aroused now and so dumb all along. For the first time, you hated being an omega.

But all those self-deprecating thoughts were muffled when he finally invaded you. It was slow, gentle, testing how things felt. Damian heaved a breath and buried his face on your neck, breathing your scent deep. It felt amazing, for the both of you. You were so deep in your heat that of course it wasn't going to hurt at all, silly you. Those alphas were right, they are always right. They can take care of you.

— … More… Please, I want more… — You moaned and tried moving your hips against his, forcing his cock to push against your walls faster. Damian's head snapped up, looking at you with interest and lust. You were already cockdrunk, as he was pussydrunk, and he wasn't even halfway inside yet.

He bottomed out with more hurry, after pulling in and out twice to test if you really weren't in pain. He moaned deep against your face before shoving his lips against yours again, while he thrusted his hips. The alpha found the perfect rhythm while pulling almost all the way in and out, in a steady dance. Your moans got louder by the second, your inner omega happy with all the attention you were receiving.

Your free hand shot up to rest on his back, nails digging his scarred skin, not knowing what to do. Damian's hips gradually grew in force, until the bed was shaking and softly hitting the wall. The sound of your hips colliding and your wetness clear as day didn't bother you, as you only started begging for the alpha. To be owned. To be knotted. To be breeded.

— See how I take care of you… — He kissed down your collarbone, murmuring against your skin. — Make you feel good… — One of his hands slid down to grip your thigh, pulling your leg up, purposefully looking for a deeper angle to ravish you. You gasped as he found it, and his thrusts got harder. You mumbled a bunch of agreements to whatever he was saying, you just wanted his knot! — You're my omega now, our omega now… — He softly bit your pouting nipple, being considerate as to not hurt the sensitive and swelling area. Your hand trembled on his back and shot up to pull his hair in an overwhelming wave of pleasure. He pulled weakly at your nipple with his teeth scraping the nerves on the area, until he let it go. — We will stuff you full of cum everyday and every hour… — His lips trailed down your ribs, but the position didn't allow him to go further down. He wanted to leave kisses on your whole body, and now he could do that, because now you weren't escaping them. He growled, resigning himself to traill his lips up through the space between your breasts. Your body trembled with the sound. — Fuck you real good… You will never have to beg, omega, we will spoil you with everything you need, everything you want… — His huge hands trailed up your body until they reached your chest. He squished them for a moment, enjoying how soft they were, and how pliant you were, looking straight into your dazed cockdrunk eyes. Imagining how your perfect pups will look like. Milk started coming out in small drops, so silent that he only noticed when it was dripping down his hand. His eyes shot down to assess the view and his knot started growing at the sight of your swelling breasts and darkened nipples, giving up milk for him, for him, so soft his fingers were digging and moulding the flesh, all while they were dancing up and down, bouncing, seducing him. You were seducing him. You were stunning, ravishing, perfect without even trying. He was happy his pack was the one tying you down to them, he wanted to kill someone just for thinking that someone else could have you like this. — … And you will give us everything we want…

He tentatively, almost hypnotized, leaned down and sucked your stiff nipple between his soft lips, sucking a small amount of milk inside, letting It rest on his tongue for a moment, savouring the taste, before swallowing.

You were sensitive, with a dull ache, but his suckling helped with the pain and sent waves of flickering pleasure against your body. You could feel him forcing his knot with each thrust to fit inside you as it gradually grew, and gasped, whimpering pleas for more. Begging him to keep going and stuff you full. You were both getting close to orgasm. Damian shut his eyes hard, overstimulated with the growing pleasure. He let go of your breast when he started feeling his canines getting more protruded, itching to bite your neck and claim you, his eyes also getting brighter, his inner alpha waiting to take ownership over you. Strip you off the life you had before. Forcing you to subjugate, until the smallest cells in your body knew who you belonged to.

He didn't hold himself, of course, and your first mark soon made home above your collarbone, your souls locking together and the intimacy going to an extraordinary level when you reached the peak of pleasure in tandem, while his knot swelled and made you stuck together, stopping any drop of cum from going to waste.

Every single drop was forced to stay inside of you, and Damian lifted your almost limp head, you both drunk, still coming down from the waves of pleasure, and forced your lips against his neck, his scent gland, and you, whose omega and heat had taken over since the moment his cock invaded you, didn't hesitate to mark him back, locking the bond completely.

— Good omega, good omega…

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[flwrkid14]

Tim Drake’s Coworkers (ft. The Fenton Family)

It’s not that Tim doesn’t like the Batfamily. He tolerates them just fine. Damian is great for sparring (if you like sparring with a tiny murder machine), and Jason’s brand of dark humor isn’t too bad once you get used to it. Dick’s a bit too much sometimes, but overall? Fine. Totally fine.

But the thing is… they’re just his coworkers.

And it never really clicks for the Bats until Danny Phantom joins the Justice League and everything starts unraveling.

———

The revelation comes during a League meeting. They’re strategizing about some ghost-related chaos, and Danny floats into the Watchtower, bright and glowing.

“Oh, hey, Tim,” Danny greets casually, giving him a little wave.

Tim doesn’t even look up from his tablet. “Sup.”

Superman looks between them, confused. “…you two know each other?”

Danny grins. “yeah, he’s my brother.”

Dead silence.

“WHAT?!” Bruce’s bellow shakes the entire room.

Tim finally looks up, unfazed. “What? Did you think I just spawned into existence?”

“You have a brother?!” Clark sputters.

“Two siblings, actually,” Tim corrects, utterly nonchalant. “Danny’s the younger one. Jazz is the older one. She’s great. Super organized. Kept me alive in middle school.”

Bruce’s eye twitches. “Why—why am I only learning this now?”

Tim shrugs. “It didn’t seem relevant.”

“Relevant?” Diana repeats, incredulous. “You’re the brother of Danny Phantom and it’s not relevant?”

Danny, who’s been munching on some ectoplasm candy, jumps in: “Honestly, Tim’s always been kind of private about his personal life. We just figured it was his way of coping with the whole ‘raised-by-rich-neglectful-aunt’ thing.”

“Yeah, about that,” Tim interjects, glaring at Danny. “Thanks so much for dumping me with Aunt Janet, by the way.”

Danny shrugs sheepishly. “Mom and Dad panicked! They thought you’d get ghost-napped next!”

“Uh, correction: Aunt Janet left me to raise myself, so that plan was awesome.”

Bruce, trying to keep up, interrupts: “Hold on. Your parents left you with Janet Drake?”

“They didn’t know she sucked at raising kids,” Tim deadpans. “And to be fair, they did call. A lot. I just didn’t pick up.”

Jason, who has been cackling this entire time, leans forward. “Wait, wait, wait—so you’re telling me that the Replacement’s entire family is a bunch of ghost hunters?”

“Yup.” Danny pops the “p” with a grin.

“You’re kidding me,” Steph says, borderline hysterical.

Tim sighs, clearly over it. “Look, it’s not a big deal. Jazz keeps the parents in check, Danny handles the ghost stuff, and I… stay out of the way. It’s fine.”

“FINE?” Damian glares. “Drake, you’ve been fraternizing with ghost hunters while working with a vigilante group, and you think that’s fine?”

Tim raises an eyebrow. “Dami, chill. It’s not like it affects work. You’re my coworkers. They’re my family. Separate categories.”

Cue collective Batfamily malfunction.

———

Later, Danny is chilling in the Batcave, feet kicked up on the Batcomputer, chatting with Alfred. The rest of the Bats are still spiraling.

“Tim, we’ve lived together for years!” Dick exclaims, sounding genuinely hurt. “How are we only your coworkers?”

“You’re not my family,” Tim explains, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Danny and Jazz are my family. You guys are my teammates. It’s different.”

Jason throws his head back, laughing. “Oh my god, Replacement, you’re stone cold.”

“I’m not cold,” Tim argues. “I just don’t think we need to make it more complicated than it is. We work together. That’s enough.”

Meanwhile, Danny is wiping tears of laughter off his face. “Oh man. Jazz is gonna love this.”

[intistone]

this killed my artblock okay

well.

the hyperfixation created something something au, so....yeah.

AU where the whole Book of Bill and the backstory doesn't change at all, but instead of just putting bill into space therapy, the AXOLOTL also creates...uh.

This guy.

Not a twin, not a second chance, not a reincarnation.

This Bill, or "Nick" (chosen by Mabel because he's got a nicked side from le punch) is more of a "what couldve been" alternate created for the purpose of being a test or an example for the real bill. Everything Bill was SUPPOSED to develop personality wise before the collapse of his dimension...but with his memories sill intact from that moment. It's not a restart and memory loss thing, but more of a coping and learning to heal, starring the Pines family losing their minds over what seems like o be a lookalike of the evil dorito man.

Again....his only purpose was to show the real Bill what could have been, if his coping methods weren't as....unhinged and destructive. So he wasn't intentionally supposed to be a long-term friend or anything to the town of Gravity Falls.

....but things change.

Things change.

some more info stuff under the cut about this au :D

Nick is nervous, anxious, uses humor to cope, and a bit mischevious (bit of the og Bill there), but takes out his trauma/guilt on art and creating instead of destructive tendencies. He frequently likes to throw up murals and run off.

He has multiple self-care issues. Just in general because of his memories and because of his fractured physical state.

He had to do a LOT of work to gain the Pine's trust. Obviously. but he would definitely get along with Mable and, though it would take a lot more time, Dipper. Because....Dipper. The Book of Bill really showcased how pissed Dipper was with Bill's actions.

The Pines don't like to call him Bill because...bad association with that name. Hence the name Nick, because they kinda think its not REALLY bill. just a less fucked up version

His powers are limited and fractured due to being an altered form. He can't levitate, warp reality, or be considered immortal. however, he still IS Bill Cipher....so all that may be buried in there somewhere.

Bro has a LOT of stuff to work through and unpack.

[adieutristana]

arcane women or just sevika and vi with a emotionally sensitive reader please

of course! thank you for the request <3 doing just sevika and vi for simplicity’s sake!

summary; headcanons of sevika and vi with an emotionally sensitive girlfriend.

characters included; vi, sevika

tags/warnings; fluff, mentions of smoking, mentions of drinking, hurt/comfort

vi;

✧.* to an extent, vi sees herself in you. she's always been a kindhearted person, described as having a good heart. she cares, she loves, and it hurts her to see others suffering. but the harsh environment of the lanes and stillwater caused her to repress that attitude.

✧.* so to see someone like you, who is so unabashedly herself, is incredible. vi has adjusted to the hardened streets of zaun, and learned that showing emotion- at least in front of others, is a weakness. but not anymore.

✧.* she’d probably be taken off guard by you at first. she’s not used to meeting people like you, who are open and honest and secure in their feelings. who are sensitive. it’s something she’d be afraid to be, but she thinks it’s a sign of bravery when she sees it in you.

✧.* she picks up on things. the last thing that vi wants to do is accidentally overstep or do something that’ll upset you- it doesn’t matter how big or small. if she finds you upset because she didn’t put a clean mug back in the cupboard, she’ll take a mental note. if the way she worded something cut a bit deep, she’ll do better next time.

✧.* as well as that, she values the communication! she recognizes after a while of knowing you how emotional you can get, so she wants to hear directly from you what gets you in that state, so she can do everything in her power to avoid it.

✧.* but there's times where she can't avoid it, and you're crying over something as simple as a spilled cup of coffee- you've already got a lot going on, and this is just too much.

✧.* "hey, hey- it's just coffee," she'd murmur, her voice soft and reassuring. vi would rub soothing circles into your lower back. while she's internally panicked, she won't let you see that. "we'll get it cleaned up, and then i'll make you another cup. it's alright, babe, i promise."

✧.* i think through helping you through things, she'd also learn to cope better with her own sensitivities- taking her own advice, in a way. vi's grown used to drowning her emotions in a bottle of whiskey, but she's able to see how much talking you through things has helped. holding you when something hits a little too close to home. distracting you when you're upset with something she just knows will make you laugh.

✧.* i think she would use humor to distract you, a lot. vi's jokes are usually pretty corny and, well, not the most funny- but that's just part of her charm, isn't it? you can't help but laugh anyways.

✧.* "hey- that wasn't that bad! and besides, it made you laugh, so it worked!" she'd protest, an expression of mock-offense on her face. "please, that was horrible. but i do feel a little better, so..."

✧.* if anyone dares call you sensitive as an insult, vi's on their case and telling them off- you know she would. other zaunites may look down on it, sure, but she sees it as a strength. something that makes you brave, even.

sevika;

✧.* i think at first, sevika would definitely be taken aback, and she wouldn't know entirely what to make of you. she's the definition of a hardened woman, brash and unassuming. to anyone who doesn't know better, unfeeling.

✧.* but it isn't a bad thing, it's just that sevika isn't used to seeing someone sensitive and open about it. in the lanes of zaun, especially the line of work she's in, showing any kind of emotion is a weakness. she shut that part of herself off a long time ago in an effort to survive.

✧.* and after a while, sevika’s found that she thinks you’re one of the strongest people she’s ever met. zaun is a city where any emotion or sensitivity is weakness, but you’ve never let that get to you. you’re not afraid to be sensitive, and that takes a hell of a lot more courage than most of what people in zaun do.

✧.* she’ll do absolutely everything in her power to keep you happy though, of course she will. sensitivities can’t be exactly pinned down, you just are emotionally sensitive- that’s all there is to it. but sevika is observant if nothing else, and she’s able to pick up on things that upset you more often than not.

✧.* and though she stays stoic through it, seeing you upset truly breaks her heart. she wishes she could shield you from anything that would ever pose a threat to you or your happiness.

✧.* “hey, dove- why are you crying? what happened? c’mon, talk to me.” she’d murmur, rubbing a soothing hand on your side. “it’s stupid, ‘vika, don’t worry about it-“ “no. it’s not stupid. clearly it was important enough to make you upset, so tell me.”

✧.* usually uses physical affection and distractions to comfort you. sevika’s never been the best with words, as much as she wishes she was in times like these. she’ll press light kisses to your temples and take your hands in hers. she’s not used to this kind of tenderness, but she’ll do it for you in a heartbeat.

✧.* there are times where it’s unavoidable. maybe you’d might get upset over her tone- she’d never be anything but kind to you, yet sometimes she doesn’t say the right words and her tone might come off as rude. and hearing that hurts you, although you don’t want to believe she’d purposely do that.

✧.* “babe, i’m sorry, you know i wouldn’t talk to you like that-” “then why did you?” you’d mutter, your voice soft and nearly breaking. it tears sevika apart. “i didn’t mean to. my tone, just… i have a hard time controlling it, but i’ll try. i love you, i do.” while taking you into her arms and into the crook of her neck.

✧.* trust me when i say that sevika would turn the planet on its axis if it meant she got to see you happy. and anyone who dares talk about your sensitivity like it’s a bad thing- they’re taken care of, to say the least.

[terriblyrenderedenigma]

On Transformers and Human soulmate tropes...

(i do personally attack starscream at the end, i'm sorry starscream lovers, i love him too, but he's just a sad, devious little guy.)

Just a little thought here, so, I love soulmate tropes. Depending on the plot, they can be really fun and take so many interesting paths as a medium used within storytelling, whether romantic or platonic.

But what i want to talk about specifically is Transformer x Human soulmate tropes. Like, you have this super sweet side to it where the bot can be like 'I have waited my entire life to find you, finally, I can hold you in my arms and we never have to part again'. Depending on the character/story/type of SM (soulmate, shortening it because I'm not gonna keep writing it out) trope of course.

Can I just say how...instrumentally fucked this is though? So you have this race of robots who live for, what is essentially millennia out in the wild unless they catch the smoke. Their soulmate ends up being this little creature that lives for 80, maybe 100 years tops before dying. -Unless we're going for some kind of mind switch body type thing, but we all know how that went with spike in g1.

Our beloved robo blorbos will eventually have to cope with the fact that their soulmate, the person or creature they're MEANT to be with via laws of the universe, will die a LOT sooner than they will.

This especially hits hard with the decepticons who, depending on continuity -- hate humanity already. Bots who've gone through so much, losing their home, friends, and their dignities; have to learn to put up with and accept this creature as their fated mate/spouse/conjux endura, whatever you want to call it- SOULMATE.

Then the decepticons just have to deal with the fact that they're going to lose this person too, just like they've already lost everything else and oh GOD. Maybe they choose to forget about them and move on, stay alone and mourn what could have been if the universe hadn't had such a fucked sense of humor. Maybe they choose to accept it, but never let their SM too close because they know they'll just be hurt so much more hurt when the inevitable comes.

Then you have to think about decepticons having to possibly protect their SM from other cons! From being taken and 'saved' by the autobots.

Imagine some bots or cons just flying off the handle, going crazy just to try and keep their human alive in any way they possibly can, afraid of running out of time.

(Starscream lovers forgive me for the angst)

And Starscream especially, Maybe he'd try. He'd have a great time, take a chance, and give it a go. But what if he's actually terrified? Maybe he'd also self sabotage a little, knowing the relationship will never last too long anyways; not in the short blink of time it would be next to his life. Maybe, he doesn't actually know what to do with himself in a positive relationship after being, i dunno, consistently dogged on by megatron and he freezes.

There's something actually good for him, and since he isn't sure how to receive or accept that fact, he's gone. And maybe he'll come back, but the cycle could repeat.

(Im sorry, unless you put a tracker on him and call his ass and really give him some therapy. get him some god damn therapy.)

But yeah. All around, the angst potential is immense for this stuff and it makes me sad to think about so I thought i would share it instead of just write about it in an actual fic because my character analysis and ability to comprehend my own thoughts is so shit.

Okay, CIAOOOOOO~

[astrotruther]

Astro Observations

relationships (i)

📍For compatibility, it's important to consider both the synastry and the composite chart. Some couples have synastry that screams sexual tension—Venus-Mars conjunctions, Pluto squares, the whole deal—yet they have all the spark of coworkers splitting a spreadsheet. Why? A bland composite chart. Without fire (passion) or water (emotional depth), even the juiciest synastry can feel oddly platonic. I’ve seen Venus-Mars pairs that should be electric, but they interact like glorified roommates because their composite lacks intensity. Synastry is the spark, composite is the flame. No fuel? It fizzles.

📍Celebrity couples who give off PR-relationship energy? Check their composite. Capricorn stellium (10H) = curated public image. Aquarius stellium (11H) = internet presence, collective approval. The relationship may not be entirely fake, but it definitely thrives under public gaze rather than private intimacy. One person's Venus overlaying the other's 10th house can have a similar effect. Glen Powell and Sydney Sweeney are the perfect example of this. Glen credited Sydney for the Anyone But You promo buzz, saying she “knew how to play the game.”

📍Gemini-Aquarius Venus compatibility is lowkey overhyped. Yes, they’re both into unconventional love and mental stimulation. But the devil is in the details. Gemini Venus, being mutable, craves constant verbal interaction—banter, check-ins, spontaneous conversations. Aquarius Venus, being fixed, needs long stretches of solitude to recalibrate. And when issues come up? Underdeveloped Gemini Venuses have a habit of brushing it off with humor or distraction. They’ll talk for hours about some obscure indie band but shut down the moment emotional transparency is needed.

📍People forget that Venus, when isolated, can be shallow in its expression. It tells us what we like—not always how we handle love. Take Pisces Venus: often romanticized as the dreamy lover, but in real life? They can be emotionally elusive. One minute they're soul-gazing, the next they're flirting with their ex on social media. When called out, they play the victim, and somehow you end up consoling them. They're not necessarily malicious. Neptune's influence brings a bit of delusion so they are being truthful, it's just that their truth is a funhouse mirror.

📍Water Venuses can be serial daters—not necessarily because they’re shallow, but because they’re emotional seekers. Pair that with a Fire or Scorpio Moon and suddenly relationships become a coping mechanism—a way to externalize unprocessed feelings. They chase emotional high after emotional high, mistaking intensity for intimacy. What they really need is solitude. Stillness. Time to reflect and deconstruct past dynamics. Once they learn to self-soothe, their relationship patterns shift dramatically.

📍Mars deserves just as much attention as Venus in love astrology. It tells you how someone acts on desire, not just what they’re drawn to. A Water Venus with an Air Mars might come off emotionally sweet but act detached in love—classic mixed signals. On the flip side, someone with an Aquarius Venus (usually seen as aloof) but a Libra Mars could lean towards deep commitment, craving harmony and stability over flings. The Mars sign often explains the follow-through—what they actually do once they’re interested.

📍When Venus / Mars falls in Cardinal signs (Aries, Cancer, Libra, Capricorn), there’s usually a strong desire for commitment and forward movement. These people tend to initiate and build. Mutable sign placements (Gemini, Virgo, Sagittarius, Pisces), on the other hand, tend to either fear commitment or feel like they need to experience everything before settling. They like options, and they like time. Fixed signs (Taurus, Leo, Scorpio, Aquarius) are all-or-nothing. It’s either eternal devotion or a two-week fling that meant nothing. There’s rarely an in-between. What’s constant is that they stick to their relationship philosophy—stubbornly.

Click daily to help Palestinians🍉🙏🏽: https://arab.org/click-to-help/palestine/

[littlegreendeathmachine]

I love how all of the playable male protagonists in the Ace Attorney series are written as snarky, sassy little bitches. We get to read their inner thoughts and see their cattiness, their sarcasm, and their raw, unfiltered vinegar. These boys are just plain MEAN sometimes but they often think what we (the player) are thinking…

My favorite thing is when a bit of their pointy inner dialogue accidentally spills out into their spoken conversation and even their teenage weirdgirl assistants are like “DAMN BRO THAT WAS FUCKIN SAVAGE”.

I wish I had better examples but I never take enough screenshots during my playthroughs so I used the bitchiest looking sprites of them I could find.

We’ve got…

Phoenix, who, at least at the beginning of his career, tries his damndest to be kind and unbiased toward everyone he meets, but no matter how hard he fights, he just can’t help letting some of his sarcasm slip out. He’s like a puppy trying to stifle his bark. He definitely doesn’t try as hard later on (or at all while he’s disbarred) but still attempts to maintain a semblance of professionalism (unless Miles is around). The funniest thing about him is that he’s a very good judge of character so his inner monologue seems to be his genuine, true observations of people and not just him being an ass for the sake of being an ass.

Miles, who is already seen by everyone around him as an arrogant cock, has some of the best knee slappers I’ve ever seen in his inner thoughts. His dry, deadpan humor is unparalleled, and I love that he uses the utmost precision when deciding who and who not to filter himself around. He’s always playing chess in his mind, after all. Interestingly, he hides his pleasant thoughts about people as well as his negative ones. Can’t let anybody, even his BEST FRIENDS, see an ounce of weakness — no, that just wouldn’t be the Edgeworth way.

Apollo, who has a tendency to think out loud more often than the others and gains himself quite a reputation for being something of a loose cannon (they don’t call him “horned devil” for nothing). He has no qualms about letting people around him know what he thinks about them, though he definitely shares more than he wants to, because, like word vomit, he just can’t stop it from coming out. We learn later on in the series that this lil’ guy has lots of trauma and inner demons, so part of it may be a coping mechanism; either way, the people who care about him have gotten used to this and understand that he’s just gonna be kind of a fucking brat sometimes.

and Ryunosuke, who starts off seemingly unassuming and quiet, a young man who keeps to himself until we soon come to realize he was the OG Bitch™ and has some of the saltiest quips of the 19th century, especially when Sholmes is nearby. I love the contrast between him and Susato, who tries to approach everything with so much grace, while he’s over here like “People in Britain are quite peculiar….” which in his era roughly translates to “Can you BELIEVE these ignorant ass motherfuckers?” He’s quick to point out other people’s flaws but he also spends a lot of time wrestling with his own feelings of inadequacy, so there’s a lot more to his character than his “just some guy” narrative lets on. We stan bitchy Runo.

I love them all SO much. Babies! Babies for life!

It is my firm belief (opinion) that they were all meant to be gay or bi and neurodivergent (as well as their weirdgirl assistants) but that’s a discussion for another day, and a long one, so write that down. And don’t even get me started on the other prosecuties… Capcom really knows how to make MCs that I want to squeeze in my fist like a chew toy because how are they all so cute and terrible? I need more. Can you tell I’m dying for AA7? *salivates*

Also, I wanna hear your favorite bitchy lines from these fine young men!

[nyarumie]

Suit Anomaly. (Oneshot)

hoshina soshiro x reader — 919 words. established relationship, kissing, making out, mentioned 'she' pronouns for reader.

Just a small break from my ongoing Narumi fic, which is linked on my pinned post! Please do check it out too 🫶

Click here for part 2! Cross-posted on Ao3.

Requests, prompts, or any messages are appreciated! Just open my ask box.

A staring contest in the middle of the highly confidential training facility has apparently been going on for a couple of minutes. You maintained a good distance between Soshiro and yourself, just enough to bend your upper body forward and stare into the eyes of Kaiju no.10 in his suit. (The Kaiju, in fact, refuses to open its eyes).

"Can this guy see anything?" you asked.

Eh? This guy?

Soshiro can't believe you just addressed the Kaiju in his suit as just some guy. What were you even doing? Testing the No. 10 suit wasn't on his schedule today, but you managed to pester Okonogi into "checking it out for anomalies" because of how bad they performed in yesterday's target training.

It was Okonogi who answered you from above, "Yes. Because its consciousness is fully retained, you can still think of it as a Kaiju, albeit taking the form of a Defense Force suit."

"Why's it ignoring me then? Soshiro, is this like a pet of yours? Maybe you need to tame it, you're good at that anyways." you said, now standing upright, still staring at the eye hole of the suit. "Your performance was still shit yesterday, Kaiju No. 10."

Finally, it opened its eye. "I'm not this bowlcut's pet!" it growled at you.

"So you do have an eye. You can do better at target practice, yeah? Your tail is aggressively wagging, by the way." you said, your stare turning cold now that it decided to open its eyes.

Soshiro clapped his hands once, a sign that you both need to stop arguing. Scratching the back of his head, he whined your name. "It's supposed to be my off-day from training, ya know? What was the anomaly check ya said yesterday?"

You sighed, a hand in one hip. You walked closer, ignoring the panicked warning of Okonogi that you're entering dangerous territory. Soshiro was uncharacteristically taken by surprise when you hooked a hand behind his neck and comfortably placed your other hand on his chest, pulling him closer.

Before you can even do anything, you hear the suit's tail wave around more aggressively than before, almost destroying the floor behind Soshiro. "... So that's what's up." you said, still retaining the quite intimate position you both are in.

"Fine! FINE!! You got me, can the both of you stop doing that every damn time?! You humans are so weird!" the Kaiju wailed.

And it closed its eye again.

Confused, Soshiro placed both his hands on either side of your waist. "Dear, what's goin' on?"

"I'm afraid we shouldn't work together on the field if you're using that suit."

He frowned, "But nothin' else tops our teamwork. Are ya worried this suit will kill you?"

You feel laughter threatening to spill from your lips. 'How adorable. For a hella smart guy, he's so clueless this time; they really refuse to read each other's mind, don't they?' you thought.

You cleared your throat to control yourself, explaining the anomaly you discovered. "Dear, the Kaiju is flustered."

He's so dumbfounded right now.

"This Kaiju? Flustered?" Is that even possible? "From what?" he asked.

Suddenly finding the entire situation funny, your attitude from earlier drastically changed. "Allow me to elaborate, then!" you said, humor visible from your eyes.

"Its tail wagging aggressively and eye closing during your target exercises whenever I'm around—because you kiss me so much, it can't stand seeing me without remembering it!" you laughed.

You hear Kaiju No. 10 grumble a complain, sounding something like what a "needy bastard" Soshiro is.

Ah. "Well buddy, ya gotta learn how to cope with it. She's my partner on-field and off-field. Ya can stand my blades, but not a kiss?" Soshiro said, slightly amused at the situation.

Its tail got aggressive again. "Shut up! You're basically devouring her mouth! Do humans really need to hold each other closely while doing it?! I'm your suit—I can feel your body heat up from it, you bastard!" it spouted.

You raise your eyebrow at him. "Oh?"

Okonogi took this as a sign to temporarily leave the room, sighing at how silly this entire thing is.

"Well, m'dear, the Kaiju didn't lie." he teasingly said, grinning as he pulled you even closer and cupping your face in one hand. "How 'bout we give it a sample right now? It needs time getting used to us, don'tcha agree?"

Before you were even able to reply, he dipped and kissed your lips fully.

You let out a surprised sound, feeling him angling his lips better as his tongue prodded access to your mouth. 'Such intensity for a sample,' you thought. Your hand subtly pulled on his hair, the both of you moaning as your tongues danced with each other.

He reluctantly pulled away as he felt you pat his chest, a silent plea for air.

"How are ya feeling?"

"Beyond amazing. Might need more later."

You jumped at the voice that boomed from the suit, "You bastards done? I may be able to close my eye, but I can hear everything!! You're both the most disgusting humans ever!"

Soshiro huffed, "Quit whinin', you're such a drama queen. Get used to it, it's part of yer training."

"Ahem." You both hear a voice from above.

Ah, it's the Captain. Did Okonogi fetch her?

"Don'tcha worry Captain Ashiro, we're wrapping up already." he said.

Soshiro and you made your way back to the control room, announcing that the anomaly has been "taken care of".

[b1eedthefreak]

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. Strangers

⌇daryl dixon x reader

summary⌇years after daryl disappeared into the woods to search for rick, the fair at the kingdom reunites the communities—and you never expected it to reunite you with him. not after all that time. not after the way he left.

warnings⌇none! (the title sounds like angst but it’s not i promise)

word count⌇2.4k

a/n⌇ive been working on this all day and i lowkey don’t really like it but hopefully yall do :p

No one ever found Rick’s body.

No blood to bury. No final breath to hold on to. Just that hollow, brutal silence where his voice used to be.

In the weeks that followed, everyone coped in their own way.

Carol buried herself in the Kingdom. Michonne broke in half trying to stay whole for Judith. Maggie left altogether. And Daryl—Daryl slipped into the woods like a shadow, like a man trying to disappear inside his own grief.

You stayed in Alexandria.

You didn’t know where else to go. And more than that, you didn’t want to leave.

Because deep down, you thought—maybe—if he ever came back…

He’d come back here.

To you.

—

You and Daryl had never been official.

Not once. Not out loud.

No kisses. No sex. No whispered I love yous. No hands tangled in sheets.

But everyone knew.

They saw it in the way he moved toward you in a crowd.

In the way your name always softened on his tongue.

In the way he learned how to braid just because you mentioned missing how your mom used to do it. In the way his hand found the small of your back like it belonged there.

You weren’t together. But you were something.

And in a world like this, that meant more than most titles ever could.

So when you saw him and Michonne returning through the gates, your breath caught in your chest.

It had been days. Weeks maybe.

You jogged over, boots scuffing the dirt, trying not to smile too hard. His hair was longer. Skin darker from the sun. There was something heavier about him now.

But he was here.

Michonne greeted you with a quiet nod.

“Hey,” you said gently. “Any luck?”

She exhaled and gave a small shake of her head. “Not yet.”

Her hand drifted instinctively to her stomach, and only then did you notice the gentle curve beneath her layers.

Your eyes widened. “Wait—”

She nodded with a tired smile. “I should get to the infirmary. My checkup’s overdue.”

“That’s amazing Michonne!” you whispered, warmth blooming in your chest.

She gave your arm a squeeze. “I’ll leave you two to catch up.”

And then she was gone.

And it was just you and Daryl, standing in the evening sun.

You shifted your weight, suddenly aware of every beat of your heart.

“Hey stranger,” you teased. “Remember this place?”

He huffed, already walking ahead. You fell into step beside him.

You walked past the gardens, past the old windmill, through the soft, golden stretch of Alexandria that somehow hadn’t lost all its light yet.

Kids were playing in the distance. Judith was laughing. Something in the air felt gentle—like the world had paused just long enough to let you feel like yourselves again.

You turned your head, caught him looking.

“What’s with that look?” he asked, mouth twitching.

“What look?”

“That smile. Like you know somethin’ I don’t.”

You nudged him lightly with your shoulder. “It’s just been a while, that’s all. Since you’ve been here for more than five seconds.”

“Ain’t true.”

“Mm. Let’s see…” you pretended to count on your fingers. “One, you’re always out there. Two, I think you’ve forgotten what a shower is. Three, you’ve become an actual forest cryptid. Be honest—do you sleep in a nest made of moss and guilt?”

His groan was low and grumbly. “‘s not funny.”

You burst out laughing. “It is a little funny.”

“Oh i’m not funny anymore? Has the woods drained your sense of humor?” you added, wiping tears from your eyes.

He tried to scowl, but it melted too fast. You swore you saw a smile ghost across his lips.

For the first time in days—maybe longer—you felt like you again. Like you and Daryl was still a thing that could exist in the daylight.

—

Night came quickly.

You were on your porch when you spotted movement near the gate.

You squinted through the dark.

It was him.

Bag on his back. Crossbow slung over one shoulder. His bike waiting just outside.

He looked like he was leaving.

You stood up slowly, heart knocking against your ribs. You walked toward him without thinking.

“Hey,” he said when you reached him.

Your eyes fell to his gear. “All packed up?”

You tried to joke. “Got a big camping trip I should know about?”

Daryl shifted. “You could say that.”

Something in your stomach twisted.

“Where are you going?”

He looked past you, eyes dark. “M’goin’ out again. Gonna look for Rick. His body was never found. Michonne… she deserves that closure. I gotta try.”

He swallowed.

You nodded slowly. It made sense. Of course it did.

But the ache in your chest didn’t care about sense.

“You were leaving without saying goodbye?”

His eyes flicked back to yours, wide now. Sad.

“‘s not like that,” he murmured. “I just…”

Your voice cracked into a soft laugh before he could finish.

“I’m just messing with you, Daryl!”

You smiled through the pain, nudged him gently with your knuckles.

But he didn’t smile back.

He just stared.

“Daryl,” you said softer, “I know how important this is to you.”

You stepped closer, resting your hand on his shoulder.

His breath caught.

“No matter how long you’re gone… Alexandria will always be your home. I’ll be here. We all will. You’re doing this because you care. Because you’re good. I admire that.”

You gave him a small smile. “Just… don’t be a stranger.”

His eyes searched yours.

Then, slowly, he lifted his hand and pressed it over yours.

Warm. Calloused. Familiar.

“Yeah. ‘Course.”

He paused.

“I—uh…”

His voice faltered. Like he wanted to say something else. Needed to.

But the words never came.

He looked down. Then back up.

“See you ‘round,” he said instead.

You nodded, trying not to let your throat close.

“See you, Dixon.”

And then you watched him walk away.

Again.

This time with no promise he’d come back.

—

Six years passed.

Not quickly. Not easily. Just… slowly. Like healing bones. Like water dripping through stone.

Daryl didn’t come back to Alexandria.

Not anymore.

The afternoon light spilled across Alexandria like warm syrup, casting long shadows over the dirt paths and wooden fences, softening the sharp edges of the world for just a moment. You sat perched on a sun bleached picnic table just outside the walls, your eyes fixed on the horizon as if it might shift, as if something—or someone—might come walking out of the trees.

Aaron was pacing nearby, boots crunching gravel, arms crossed loosely as he scanned the outer perimeter. His steps were casual, but his glances in your direction gave him away. He was waiting—for you to speak, for you to feel ready, for something to shift in the stillness between you.

“Heard the Kingdom’s throwing a fair,” he said finally, voice light, like he was just tossing the words into the wind.

You turned your head slightly, brows lifting. “A fair?”

He nodded. “Ezekiel’s idea. Wants to bring everyone back together again. Says it’s time.”

You mulled over the thought. A fair. Something good, something loud and warm and… alive. It almost felt too good to be real.

“That’s… actually kind of amazing,” you murmured, brushing your fingers over the wood grain beneath you. “Wonder who’ll be there.”

Aaron turned, and when you met his eyes, he was already smirking.

“What, you hoping to run into someone?”

The sharpest side eye of your life was instantly deployed. “No.”

He raised both hands, grinning. “Hey—I’m just asking!”

You inhaled slowly, eyes drifting to the tree line again. You didn’t say his name. You didn’t have to.

Because even now—six years later—the ache still sat in your chest like a scar that hadn’t faded. Daryl Dixon hadn’t come back. Not really. He’d left with a bag slung over one shoulder, a stubborn look in his eyes, and the promise to find Rick… and that was it.

He didn’t come back to visit. Not even Judith heard from him much, and she asked often. Tugging at your sleeve with those wide, knowing eyes.

“Where’s Uncle Daryl? When’s he coming back?”

You always smiled. Always told her a story.

And always cried when no one was looking.

Aaron finally sat beside you on the table, voice lowering.

“You should go,” he said. “To the fair.”

You didn’t answer right away. But a small part of your heart stirred. Hope, tiny and dangerous.

“He could be there,” he added.

God, you truly did hope so.

—

The day of the fair arrived wrapped in sunlight and banners waving from rooftops, laughter echoing through the halls of the Kingdom, the scent of baked bread and something sweet in the air.

You came alone.

But the moment you stepped through the gate, warmth found you. Ezekiel’s broad smile, Jerry’s crushing hug, Carol’s steady hand cupping your cheek. Henry beaming like he’d just won a prize. You hugged them all tightly, like you could fold the years between you and make them disappear.

It felt… good. For the first time in a long time, it felt like the world had color again.

Eventually, you found a quiet spot at a wooden table near the outer edge of the square. You sat and let the voices blur around you, scanning faces instinctively. Not that you expected to see him. Not really.

But you looked.

And you remembered—

It had been a day not unlike this one. A trade run to the Kingdom. You and Daryl sitting on a crate, watching Carol and Ezekiel argue over storage methods for pomegranates.

“They’d be cute together,” you whispered to him, nudging his arm.

“Don’t start,” he muttered, not even glancing up.

“Just say it. Say they’d be like fairytale adorable.”

“Ain’t sayin’ shit,” he grumbled, shoving a bag of carrots at you.

You had laughed so hard your ribs hurt. You remembered how he’d glanced at you, just for a second, like he was watching something he didn’t quite understand.

You blinked away the memory.

And then a shadow fell over your table.

“This seat taken?”

Your head jerked up, breath catching halfway through your lungs.

Daryl.

He stood there like some ghost pulled from memory, weathered and older, hair longer, eyes the same. He looked exactly like you’d imagined and nothing like you’d imagined all at once.

You stood before you could stop yourself. His arms were around you in seconds.

And just like that, six years collapsed between your bodies like dust.

—

You found yourselves in the old theater, dust dancing in the light that filtered through cracked windows. Dog curled up near the stage, tail thumping once when he saw you.

“So you named him…Dog?” you said, sitting beside him, amusement in your voice.

“What’s wrong with that?” he muttered.

You broke into laughter that echoed against the rafters, and he didn’t stop you. Just watched, his eyes softer than you remembered.

You talked for what felt like hours. About Judith. About Michonne. About the woods. You told him about Alexandria, how the crops were growing again, how RJ was walking now, how everyone still missed him. How you missed him.

Eventually, the conversation quieted. You sat in that soft, familiar silence, one you hadn’t felt in years.

And then he turned, like he was going to say something—

But stopped.

“Hey,” he said, eyes narrowing. “You okay?”

You wiped your face without realizing you’d started crying.

“I just… I missed you,” you laughed, watery and shaking. “It’s been so long. I’m just happy you’re here.”

His voice was quiet. “Don’t be a stranger, remember?”

You blinked. “You still remember that?”

“’Course I did.”

But the moment was interrupted, Henry burst through the doors.

“Daryl! My mom needs you!”

And just like that, he was gone again.

“I’ll talk to you later,” he promised. “When the movie starts.”

You nodded.

—

Night had long fallen and the movie was playing in the theater now. The kids were wide eyed, faces glowing in the screenlight. You sat near the back, waiting for him.

He never came.

Your chest ached, but you didn’t let it show.

Until—

“Psst.”

You turned.

He was peeking through the side door again.

You rolled your eyes and followed him outside, where the night had settled, dark and velvet-soft.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Eugene got me talkin’. Wanted my help with somethin’.”

You shook your head. “It’s okay.”

You sat beside him in the grass, the stars glittering above. You could smell the smoke of a nearby torch, the warmth of him beside you.

“I missed this,” you said. “You.”

He turned to look at you. You didn’t meet his gaze, eyes fixed on the sky.

“Remember them runs we’d do? Long ones. Campin’ out. You’d always be lookin’ up, starin’ at the sky.”

You nodded. “Still do.”

“When I was out there,” he said, voice gravel-soft, “I’d look up too. Think about you.”

You turned to face him. “You thought of me?”

“’Course I did. Always did.”

You let out a half laugh, half sob and shoved him lightly. “You’re such a liar.”

He rolled his eyes, but his smile lingered.

The silence that followed was thick. Electric. Heavy with something neither of you had touched in years.

“Kept thinkin’ about that day,” he said. “When I left.”

You exhaled. “Yeah. Big moment.”

“I wanted to say somethin’. But I didn’t know how. I ain’t good with words. Or feelin’s. Or any of that shit.”

You looked at him fully now, his features half-lit in the dark.

“But I love you.”

You didn’t breathe.

“Wanted to say it. That day. Before I left. Couldn’t. I—I didn’t wanna leave you. But I had to. I just… I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you.”

You smiled. Eyes full of tears. “Daryl,” you whispered. “I’ve always loved you.”

Your voice cracked.

“When you left, it felt like losing my best friend. But worse. Like… like I didn’t know how to breathe without you. I realized it after you were gone. I loved you. I still love you. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.”

He reached for your hand in the dark.

“I know,” he said. “Me neither.”

And in the silence that followed, nothing else needed to be said.

You’d found each other again.

And this time, neither of you would be strangers.

a/n okay guys plz ignore how rushed the ending is i didn’t know how to wrap it up they lowkey should’ve kissed but it’s too late to write that it now just imagine it in your heads alright okay bye everyone like and subscribe for more

tag list! @xx-lostgirl-xx @darylsdelts @ye-ooo @t-folklore13 @madyb17 @dead-sirens @theskinniestjackson-denny @littlelovingideas @angelically-yours

[cyberclouddream]

What You Tend to Use Social Media For

Things we tend to seek and/or share on social media. Recommend looking for Mercury first. Also, whichever sign rules over your 11th House, look for whichever house that sign naturally rules over, e.g. Cancer/4H, Sagittarius/9H, Libra/7H, Aquarius/11H.

Gemini/Mercury in the 1st House

- to show off your personality traits and quirks, what makes you interesting

- fashion updates, like outfit and style experiments

- sharing mundane daily activities

- to create a particular public image

- instant reactions to events or trending topics

- to use your humor or wit to attract followers or engagement

- creating FOMO, lmao

- to experiment with social media trends

- to post controversial topics/challenge norms

- to seek likes and comments for self-esteem boosts

Gemini/Mercury in the 2nd House

- personal finance hacks or budgeting advice

- to post luxury items or flaunt purchases

- personal value discussion, like what’s truly important to them

- for marketing research, like judging product reviews

- promoting side hustles, businesses, or services

- to hunt for discounts or offers online

- gift ideas

- investment ideas, like stocks or crypto

Gemini/Mercury in the 3rd House

- to post about happenings in the neighborhood or community

- to engage in debates

- share updates or funny stories about family members

- post poetry, short stories, or personal anecdotes

- advertise local events or gatherings

- share educational resources or articles

- to vent about everyday frustrations

- microblogging

- posting thought-provoking questions

Gemini/Mercury in the 4th House

- family updates, like gatherings or milestones

- home projects or renovations

- childhood memories, like sharing old photos and stories

- showcase local businesses or attractions, supporting community

- personal growth experiences

- family or cultural traditions

- pet updates

- to rally support for family members

- to discuss family troubles openly

Gemini/Mercury in the 5th House

- post artwork, crafts, or performances

- date night ideas, like romantic spots

- parenting chronicles, lol

- viral social media challenges

- highlight hobbies or interests

- celebrate achievements

- flirtation, online dating

- promote fun activities

- encouraging others to participate in events or projects

Gemini/Mercury in the 6th House

- how to manage stress or workload

- health hacks and wellness tips

- productivity routines

- job milestones

- fitness challenges

- volunteer opportunities

- health struggles

- day-in-the-life posts

- job market trends

Gemini/Mercury in the 7th House

- relationship status updates, like breakups or dating life

- collaborative projects

- group discussions, like conversations about issues or shared interests

- relationship advice

- event planning, like gatherings or parties

- gossiping about friends

- insights about balancing relationships and independence

- to rally support for friends in tough personal times

- asking followers for advice on relationships decisions

Gemini/Mercury in the 8th House

- sharing intimate thoughts, like fears or deep feelings

- discuss finances, like tips on managing shared resources or investments

- to explore vulnerability with intimacy and trust

- personal growth stories

- to talk about change, like life transitions and transformations

- crowdsourcing solutions

- to engage in deep conversations on profound topics

- to discuss loss, grief, and/or coping mechanisms

- to seek closure

Gemini/Mercury in the 9th House

- travel stories

- cultural insights

- education advocacy, like promoting courses or learning resources

- debating beliefs, like philosophical or political

- inspirational quotes

- global issues

- book recommendations

- sharing experiences through videos or photos

- connecting with others from diverse backgrounds

- encouraging exploration, to inspire others to step outside of comfort zones

Gemini/Mercury in the 10th House

- sharing career milestones

- networking posts, like opportunities and connections through peers

- personal branding, promoting your craft or projects

- seek career advice or industry insights

- discuss ambitions, sharing dreams and goals

- showcase participation in community

- sharing learning experiences

- work/life reflections

- to shift public perceptions, especially after setbacks

- host Q&A sessions

- mentorship opportunities or anything related to guidance/support culture

Gemini/Mercury in the 11th House

- to grow your social circle

- to join causes or charity work

- posting about community events or group outings

- share friend’s achievements and milestones

- discuss future goals, like collective ambitions and aspu

- connect with like-minded people

- to debate societal changes or movements

- to organize or participate in virtual hangouts [ like Discord, virtual worlds ]

Gemini/Mercury in the 12th House

- share personal struggles, like mental health issues or personal battles

- reflect on dreams and fantasies

- document experiences of solitude or self-discovery

- spiritual conversations, like spiritual beliefs or mystical experiences

- posting anonymously about sensitive tooics

- using creative outlets like poetry or art to convey deeper feelings

- discuss unconventional ideas

- seek support through online communities

- content related to the mysterious, like astrology or the occult

- post about reflections or meditation

[hmmm-shesucks]

Once the foxes become more comfortable with each other, they begin to nag. Mostly little things, usually humorous things. They nag on Nicky for being too forward sometimes. They nag on Neil for his horrible life habits. They nag on Dan for her mother henning. They nag on Kevin for everything. It's fun, it's what families do. They all just pick on each other for fun.

It takes a little longer for them to feel comfortable nagging Andrew though, which, is understandable, but one of the first things they start picking on him for is his lack of communication in general. He NEVER talks. They just want him to participate sometimes.

Renee and Neil find this funny because Andrew talks A LOT just not around the foxes. He's not comfortable.

See, Andrew is fucking weird. Everyone knows this, but the foxes think he's weird in a “mysterious, murder you in your sleep, was totally the kid everyone thought was going to shoot up the school” kind of weird.

Andrew is not that kind of weird. He's a different breed entirely. He plans out how he'd survive the apocalypse, any of them. He is constantly fighting back the most wild intrusive thoughts. He is 24/7 existential crisis. His head is a wild fucking place.

But he is trying. Making progress. Trying to be more open and approachable, as Bee says. So he talks. Out Loud.

And the foxes hate him.

In the most monotonous voice ever

“Do you ever feel like your bones are dirty? Like, I could totally strip my meat suit and just give my ribs a good bleaching.”

“If that light fell out of the ceiling it would kill at least three of you and seriously injure the rest of us.”

“Nothing is stopping me from buying five ice cream flavors at once, but I'm learning self-control and Bee would be disappointed.”

“Currently having a manic episode. Should I A.) call Bee, tell her I'm not doing too great, and talk about my symptoms and how to best cope? B.) find the nearest mall and spend every dime I have in less than thirty minutes. Or C.) go apeshit and try to fight anyone and everyone who looks at me in a less-than-kind way. Children included.

*stage whisper* there's a secret fourth option but I'm saving it for later ;) (pronounced Semicolon left facing open parentheses. Yes he says this out loud)”

disappears for less than five minutes and comes back with three furrbies and a corndog, one that is obviously not from the mall's food court.

He's so fucking weird. Like, weirder than Neil, and it's awful (so good dude, the foxes eat it up)

And it's not the manic Andrew on meds. It's just Andrew. He's still Andrew. He's still quiet most of the time and he is still grumpy and apathetic, but he's also comfortable enoughto just blurt random shit out and have fun watching everyone figure out how to respond. He's found safety in his new family and he can openly be who he is without fear of judgment or rejection. He's happy in a way he's never felt nor ever thought he'd get to experience. He's just Andrew.

[yourtypicalhuman09]

The types of MCs for my batfam fic

Awkward reader: im thinking a reader that is just extremely socially awkward, due to batfam’s neglect they never really got any close interaction so they dont know how to make close friends. They’re practically a ghost and watches from the sidelines. The fic would then be about reader finding their crowd of people and learning how to interact with people whilst still being and loving their awkward self.

Class clown reader: for this one im thinking a loud reader with zero filter and uses humor to cope with trauma. The reader is considerably popular but not respected. reader basically feels like a court jester made only to make people laugh because its already engraved in their mind that thats the only way people will like them and maybe one day the batfam would see them too. The fic would then be about reader learning that they dont have to be funny all the time, they can relax and people will still remember and care for them.

Soft reader: this reader is basically a doormat, theyve spent so long doing anything to gain batfam’s favor that they do it for other people too. Theyre soft spoken and very insecure and people constantly take advantage of them. Tbh they probably get bullied too but idk. The fic would then be about reader learning to stand up for themselves and only do things for the people they care about and block out any negative people from their life.

Hot headed reader: this reader definitely has anger issues. The world and the people in it have done nothing for them so why should they respect anyone. They trust no one and automatically thinks the worst of everyone. Theyre a loner and will be hostile towards anyone who disturbs that. The fic will then be about reader learning to trust people and open their heart. They still have the air of a delinquent but they’re fiercely loyal and will protect the people they care about with their life.

crybaby reader: reader is very sensitive and emotional, theyre ashamed of their emotions and mostly stay out if sight. They have little to no human interaction so they cry easy and they also probably get bullied or just ignored. The fic would be about them learning to come out of their shell a bit and learning how to process and not feel guilty about their emotions.

cold reader: this reader is definitely like a class president or something. They are always on guard and show little to no emotion. Theyre very analytical and always has a plan. They trust no one and carries an aura of superiority and nonchalance to make up for the reality that they see themselves as a no one because the batfam wont ever acknowledge them. The fic would then be about reader learning to let their guard down and have fun and be vulnerable with the people they trust like a child should instead of always having to be the calm collected one.

burnt out reader: reader is just depressed. They put so much on their plate to try to impress the batfam that their mental health is deteriorating. They cant seem to find any motivation to do anything and they constantly feel empty and tired. The fic would be about them finding themselves and what they like to do for themselves and not to impress the batfam. They learn how to balance their schedule and find meaning in life.

Authors note: this will be my last poll before i write the prologue and/or 1st chapter. Dont worry my readers you all will be fed soon. Have a good day/night🫶🫶🫶

[lay-z]

I'm sad for some reason I think I'm getting close to getting my period, so... I'm yearning for a fictional man and I'm hurting, because I can't have him 🥺❤️‍🩹 Also, I'd like to explore some slow burn type of romance and keep Simon's past traumas in mind! Pairing: civvie!F!Reader x Simon 'Ghost' Riley Warnings/Info: Reader is demisexual; cussing; tw: mental issues; insecurities; slow burn; awkwardness; humor Word count: 3.5k The one where two broken people connect.

You've already decided that you've given up on finding, not love, but companionship.

You've given up on love a long time ago, long before you'd reached your late 20s.

An old, creative and gentle soul, weighted down and scarred by childhood bullying, constant criticism by your family, societies bloody beauty standards and things you suffer from which you didn't even know how to describe let alone name in your youth.

Demisexuality? Body dysmorphia? Eating disorders? Anxiety? Insecurities, so deeply rooted, that they border on self-hatred?

And no, you never went to therapy – no. Gods, no, because if you go to therapy, you're mental, right? And how can your poor mother tell the rest of the family that you're mentally unstable? That something is wrong with her little, darling daughter? Hm?

So, no therapy, because your hyper-independence got your back. You're used to that, learned it in your younger years; always there for others, but no one ever stepped up for you, except yourself. Yet you're cursed to be an empath, so you never stopped caring for others, even if it killed you inside.

Giving. Giving. Giving. Tearing yourself apart to please and give up the love that brimmed in your kind heart. Never receiving anything good and soft, like some cheap whore, until there was little left of love to give.

Now you've turned cynical, cold, and lonely – or that's what you keep telling yourself to keep the façade up. Hiding behind humour and feigned nonchalance, because you're an entertainer. Always have been. You would've been an amazing actress, but when you were younger, your mother told you that you could never be the love interest, so why bother go to acting school and actually do something you enjoy?

You rarely wallow in self-pity anymore; only occasionally, right before you get your period and your hormones make you feel sad and depressed, make you break and hate yourself. Quiet and in secrecy, in the safety of your dark bedroom, or in front of the bathroom mirror – just to play out a sad scene in your delusional mind. Probably with a fictional man, someone who'd never hurt you – in your alternate universe.

Accept. Adapt. Overcome. Repeat.

It isn't ideal, but you've found coping mechanisms that work for you, albeit some unhealthy ones and you've survived so far. Emphasis on survived, not lived.

You're so deep in your thoughts, on the brink of dissociation, that you don't even realize you've been staring – again.

Your eyes flutter briefly, focusing back on the here and now until you realize what or, rather, who you have been staring at like some creep.

Fuck.

It's that man with the skull mask, not a ski mask, but a balaclava – you've googled it the first time you'd seen him around the café. You'd even researched if face coverings like that are illegal in the UK – turns out they're not, unless you refuse to take it off when a police officer orders you to.

He's staring right back at you; dark brown eyes unblinking, skin around the eye holes covered up by some black smudge – combat or war paint, probably. Sitting at the table right across from you by the cafés large windows; incredibly out of place for such a soft and quaint establishment. Nursing a tea, looking menacing and intimidating with his massive physique and black clothing, yet his eyes hold something more than stoicism in them. You know, because you see it yourself when you look into any mirror.

Bottled up emotions, a myriad of them, simmering just below the surface like a dormant volcano, ready to erupt someday.

You narrow your eyes then, force yourself not to tilt your head to the side like a curious puppy would do, because you don't want him to know that you're actually perceiving him this time – and not merely daydreaming and brooding like you usually do. Cursing internally, when you eventually lose this staring competition that you've completely just made up in your mind, because his eyes are too intense and he's obviously immune to social awkwardness, you reach for your lukewarm  matcha latte, taking a small sip as you turn your head away to stare out of the large shop windows, pretending to watch passers-by.

You force yourself to focus on the shitty UK weather outside, resting your chin on the back of your hand, elbow propped up on the cheap table. Rain and wind and colourful leaves grazing the wet pavement as the seasons start changing and autumn begins creeping in. You like autumn, prefer it over summer every year – and your mind begins to drift again, distracted by random strangers outside, grey clouds in the sky and fat raindrops pitter-pattering against the windows.

Meanwhile, his eyes never waver from you, and Simon catches himself wondering, what you might be thinking about now.

Time passes, and you try to keep your routine up – going out for a coffee once or twice every week, so you won't die of loneliness or isolation. At least, the café is nice, the baristas as well, it's not far from your flat and it's usually not that crowded nor busy.

Or so it was during summer.

Now, all people want to do is drink their coffees and teas inside, apparently, since the temperatures have dropped, along with the leaves.

After ordering your matcha latte, you turn around to see that your favourite spot by the window has been occupied in the past six minutes of standing by the counter. If only the lady in front of you had ordered her bloody tea and biscuits a smidge faster, but nah, you're not that lucky.

Groaning internally, you move to the table across from your fave, pulling one of the two plastic chairs out with more force than necessary because you're petty and annoyed. It's loud – not too loud, actually, but louder than it usually is – and you curse yourself for going out. You should've just stayed in this afternoon, curled up on your couch, playing some Baldur's Gate or so.

Some minutes pass after receiving your hot beverage and you've managed to drown out the noises and successfully ignore the sudden hubbub around the café.

That is until you notice a looming presence next to you; aura thick like molasses and prominent like the smell of gasoline, you don't know if you like it or not. It does catch your attention, though, and you turn your head to the left, eye-level with his denim-clad crotch, perhaps a little too close for the acceptable social standards.

Furrowing your brows in both confusion and offense, you have to tilt your head back and lean back in your chair to meet his eyes. How can those eyes be soft and aloof at the same time?

"Uh, hi?" You say then, brows still furrowed; not a greeting but an out for him to excuse himself for getting too close and fuck off again.

"Yer in me seat." He counters bluntly, voice incredibly rough and accented and muffled by the fabric of his mask as he gestures at the table with his gloved hand and holding a small coaster with a steaming cup of tea on top of it in the other one delicately. It looks comical and stupid, yet somehow endearing.

You're dumbfounded for a moment, blinking up at him in disbelief before finding your wit again, nodding your chin at the two chatting women sitting at your favourite table.

"And they're in mine," you say matter of factly, "If we go by that logic." You add dryly, picking up your latte, because the conversation is surely over.

He stays by your side, unmoving like a marble statue, dark eyes flickering somewhat nervously between you and the empty chair across from yours. Simon doesn't know how to properly interact with a civilian anymore; let alone a female civvie, and he ponders for a moment if he should just leave again, have a cuppa at his own flat.

But Simon's therapist had advised him, pleaded with him, to at least try and make a friendly connection with someone outside of his military comfort zone and well, here you are. At least your face is familiar already and you look harmless...safe.

"May I...sit with ye, lass?" He almost grits through his teeth, doing his best to ignore the way his heart beats hard against his ribcage as he waits for your rejection.

You pick up on the vulnerability in his voice, his demeanour, as if asking costs him some courage; truth be told, it would cost you some, too. Perhaps it's the fact that you've become silent acquaintances over the past few weeks; meeting up at this place without even meaning to. Each of you alone, always.

You stop in your movements, lifting the rim of your mug just to your lips before lowering it again, holding his gaze without taking a sip.

Sit with me? You muse to yourself, surveying him up close briefly and for the first time, at least consciously. He shifts on his feet some, heavy black boots – always boots, always layers of dark clothing, always the skull balaclava, no matter the temperature.

However, despite his looks, despite his authoritative and all-consuming aura and your better judgement, you nod once, cursing your intuition and empathy, nudging the empty chair away from the table from beneath it with your foot – a wordless permission, or perhaps an invitation?

And Simon exhales a long breath through his nose, jaw unclenching slightly as he gives a curt nod, sets his tea on the table and takes a seat on the offered chair. Easy.

And that is that.

The next time you're at the café, you breathe a sigh of relief to find it relatively empty for the time, except for some elderly customers and students working in silence on their laptops.

You're delighted to find your favourite table empty again and you order your usual matcha latte with coconut milk before eagerly sinking into the chair at 'your' table with a contented sigh and a good view on the people and life outside the cosy café.

Then your peace is once again disturbed by the soft clink of a tea cup being placed on the table, followed by the empty chair across from you scraping over the old hardwood floor, before he slips into the seat with a quiet huff.

"Your table is free," you tell him immediately, leaning to the side to look past his massive frame at the unoccupied table behind him.

"Aye, I know," he responds gruffly, folding his forearms on the table while he looks outside the window, "Figured we can ah safe space by sitting together." He suggests with a nonchalant shrug, though internally, Simon's stomach is clenching with nerves and anxiety. He despises feeling awkward and being in situations he cannot control.

Yes, it does feel incredibly awkward, but deep down you're too nice to tell him to fuck off, because he hasn't given you a reason to do so. When you were forced to share a table last time, you sat in somewhat comfortable silence, though you'd definitely finished your drink faster than usual back then before uttering a polite goodbye and slipping away.

"I guess so," you mutter in return because he's already sat down anyway.

Silence ensues, but you can't ignore the sudden tension of unasked questions and the pressure of social interactions. Then, it's too quiet in the establishment, and you both suddenly and silently hate it.

"Ye enjoy observin' people?"

His question catches you off guard because he sounds genuinely interested in you answer, and it's unnerving.

"Yeah, you could say that," you answer curtly, crossing your legs at your ankles under the table and leaning back into the cheap chair to feign nonchalance, even though you're currently anything but, "I find it relaxing."

"That's...strange," Simon retorts, quirking an eyebrow behind the safety of his balaclava, because he does that, too, and he never thought you'd blatantly admit that. Is people watching a thing among civvies? Then you shoot him an offended look and he can't help but cringe internally.

"Didn't mean it like that, lass." He assures you in a mumble, eyes flickering down to his steaming cup of Earl Grey tea.

Your first instinct is to mock him for his silly mask, ask him if he's a thug or cosplaying as one or some hooligan, but you bite your tongue, because you know better, and you feel like he could make you regret your sass. Especially if one of those assumptions proofs true.

"And what do you always do around here, hm? Never see you read a book or newspaper, let alone play with your phone," you ask instead, not even hiding the accusatory undertone as you turn your upper body towards the window. You're involuntarily dismissive, because it's been a while since you talked to a stranger like that, let alone a man.

"Same as ye, lass," he grumbles, "Thinkin', observin'...enjoyin' the peace." As if internal peace could ever be achieved in his case.

There's another moment of awkward silence and your mind is racing, riddled with anxiety, though unbeknownst to you, so is his. Simon is so out of his element and yet he forces himself to stay, unless you blatantly tell him to fuck off – which, deep down, he hopes you will.

"You're not some creep are you? 'Cause I swear, I'll clock you if you try anything or follow me home after this," you tell him with an edge to your voice, like you mean it. You're not opposed or afraid of violence. You grew up with older brothers and cousins.

Simon snorts at your threat, genuinely. He's taken off guard by your fierceness and he's absolutely sure you're serious about this, and he hates to know that he's capable of taking you down if he wanted to, even if you'd fight tooth and nail. It makes him feel guilty, makes his gut twist and churn because of those dark thoughts coming up in his brain like some black pest, even though he'd never ever do anything to hurt you.

"'m not," he assures you, eyes flickering over to study your face, your expression. You look tense and standoffish, and he can't help but admire that; to know that you're not afraid, that you can take care of yourself if push comes to shove.

"Name's Simon." He offers it like an oblation, a small yet important piece of himself, putting his given name and some trust into the hands of a stranger, and asking nothing in return.

You're once again dumbfounded and yet your mistrust and suspicious nature get triggered; squinting your eyes as him, your heart and brain are in utter turmoil.

"Didn't ask," you eventually retort coolly, like a proper arsehole, even though, deep down, it hurts yourself, hurts you to be rude like that, especially as you see something flicker in his dark eyes. Surprise? Hurt? Anger? You can't tell, but he leans back in his seat, gives a curt nod, accepting your snappish response just like that, and you think he'll leave, but he stays seated.

"I'm...sorry," you utter suddenly, fidgeting with the hem of your grey oversized hoodie, "That was...unnecessarily rude." You admit with a deep sigh. But was it, though? He's a stranger, some bloke with a mask, who just randomly decided to sit with you and introduce himself–

"It's fine, lass," he says, pulling you from your spiralling thoughts with his deep gravelly voice, "A reasonable reaction, really."

It is, Simon thinks. He might have questioned you about your thoughts on self-preservation and your survival instinct, if you wouldn't have reacted the way you just did.

He contemplates lifting his mask to finally take as sip of his tea, but like always, it costs him every ounce of courage to do so while you're looking at him so shamelessly with your alert eyes and that slight frown on your face, and Simon rubs his gloved palms over his thighs below the table to soothe himself as you keep scrutinizing him.

But then you utter your name in return, albeit hesitantly, and his eyes flicker up to meet your gaze, noticing the hint of curiosity in your eyes.

You don't see him, Simon, for several weeks after that and after some contemplation, you decide that he must've found a new café to hang out at or perhaps he got arrested eventually. You don't care either way.

But then, why do your eyes keep flickering around the shop whenever you drink your matcha latte? Why do you stare at the empty chair at his 'favourite table'? Why do you keep wondering what happened to him?

You don't want to accept it, don't want to acknowledge it, but deep down, you actually enjoyed having a proper chat with him the last time you saw him. When he so randomly decide to sit with you and introduce himself. You swiftly fix the slight purse of your lips as your mind keeps pondering about this stranger and you force yourself to enjoy your hot beverage until you can get back home and feel accomplished for actually having spent time outside your comfort zones, namely your flat and workspace.

But it's lonely. Always lonely.

In those few moments you'd shared with Simon, despite the awkwardness and that uncomfortable feeling of being perceived by someone, you'd realized that something has been missing in your life. Perhaps you should give your parents and siblings a call back; perhaps you should answer all those ignored messages in your phone; messages that have become less and less, because the people closest to you will eventually stop reaching out. You know that spiel already, yet you're having so much trouble actually pulling yourself out of this hole of self-isolation, a hole that's become suffocating, draining the colour from your life while you keep telling yourself that you're fine, that you want it this way.

"Lass?"

His voice cuts through your overthinking mind like a hot knife through butter and your eyes immediately find his gaze, that unwavering, piercing stare of his.

"Simon," you say in return, more like a greeting if it wouldn't be for the shocked pitch lacing your voice. You can faintly see his tired eyes crinkle slightly as he rests one gloved hand on the backrest of the empty chair across from you and you wonder if he's smiling behind his mask.

"Remember me name, aye?" He asks gruffly, almost playfully, the tiniest smirk tugging at the corner of his chapped lips beneath his mask as he pulls out the chair, waiting for your permission.

"Tsk. Obviously," you answer with a scoff and an eye roll before giving him a short nod. "No tea?" You remark as he sits down without it, raising an eyebrow as you sip on your own drink.

"Err, no. Not stayin' for one," he answers, shaking his head, "Was jus' in the area," he lies, "Figured I could drop by and say 'ello." He adds with a shrug, feeling utterly stupid now, because Simon definitely was not in the area.

He came home from a deployment last night and wanted to check on you for some reason, see if you're still coming here, see if you’re doing alright – but of course, you are.

"Mhm," you hum affirmingly, though more suspicious than ever as you survey him. You want to spit out Why?,  the question burning on the tip of your tongue, but you’re somehow too distracted by his overall appearance.

The paint around his eyes has faded, as if rubbed and smudged too many times. He smells an awful lot of tobacco and something else you can't quite pinpoint. Even in his usual attire of some type of black jacket or hoodie, jeans, boots and his balaclava, he looks terribly dishevelled and messy.

"Where have you been?" You find yourself asking before you can stop your mouth from moving. "If you don't mind me asking." You add casually, for good measure.

“Deployed.” Simon answers offhandedly, sounding colder than he intended to, and you do pick up on the shift in attitude; he doesn’t want to elaborate.

“Okay,” you retort with a nod, though your curiosity is sparked, and you click your tongue, pondering, before you confuse him as you let out a little snort.

Of course, he's a fucking soldier, you muse to yourself, should've figured that out myself.

You can practically see him raise his eyebrows in confusion, noticing how the fabric of his bloody mask shifts slightly.

“Ye laughin’ at me for servin’ me country?” He asks and desperately hopes that you pick up on the teasing tone in his voice, though it’s still hoarse from barking orders at his men for days on end.

“No,” you answer uncharacteristically soft, flashing him a rare genuine and sheepish smile, “I always wanted to join the military myself.”

Simon doesn’t know if it’s the smile you shoot him, catching him off guard, because he’s never seen that expression on your face before, let alone that sudden twinkle in your eyes as you admit that you’ve thought about enlisting in your past, but he suddenly feels even more intrigued by you; this secluded, lovely civilian in front of him, and he finds himself asking then,

“Why didn’t ye enlist?”

Perhaps he should get that tea after all.

Part 2 ?

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

Hello! I've been getting more and more tips for writing thanks to your post about character flaws in my FYP. I was wondering, do you have any posts about character strengths/virtues? Thanks!

Rin's Character Strengths Masterpost ✨

Hey there, fellow writer! 💖 So glad my character flaws post found its way to you! You've asked about one of my FAVORITE topics to explore - character strengths and virtues! And guess what? I've been meaning to write this companion piece for ages, so THANK YOU for the nudge!

Let's dive DEEP into character strengths that go beyond the basic "brave protagonist" or "loyal sidekick" tropes we see everywhere in fiction. Because memorable characters need memorable strengths!

Why Character Strengths Matter Just As Much As Flaws

We often focus SO much on giving characters interesting flaws (which, yes, super important!), but their strengths are what make readers root for them and fall in love with their journey. Strengths are what make your character SHINE in those pivotal moments! ✨

The key is making these strengths SPECIFIC, NUANCED, and sometimes even PROBLEMATIC. Yes, strengths can cause problems too - that's where the juicy storytelling happens!

Beyond-Basic Character Strengths for Your Characters

1. CONTEXTUAL COURAGE 🔥

Not just "bravery" but courage that manifests in specific contexts:

Social courage (standing up to peer pressure)

Intellectual courage (questioning deeply held beliefs)

Physical courage despite specific fears

Quiet courage (the kind that doesn't look heroic but IS)

Moral courage (doing the right thing when it costs them personally)

Creative courage (risking failure and ridicule for their art/ideas)

2. RADICAL EMPATHY 💭

Not just "understanding others" but:

The ability to understand even villains' motivations

Cross-cultural empathy that bridges different backgrounds

Empathy that extends to those completely unlike themselves

Empathy that causes them to make difficult choices others wouldn't

Empathy that allows them to anticipate others' needs before they're voiced

Empathy for those society has taught them to fear or distrust

3. ADAPTIVE INTELLIGENCE 🧠

Not just "being smart" but:

Pattern recognition in chaotic situations

Intuitive problem-solving under pressure

Cultural adaptability when thrust into unfamiliar environments

Emotional intelligence that helps navigate complex relationships

Street smarts that complement (or replace) formal education

The ability to translate complex concepts for different audiences

4. CREATIVE RESILIENCE 🌱

Not just "bouncing back" but:

Finding unconventional solutions to setbacks

Using humor as a coping mechanism during dark times

Transforming trauma into strength without romanticizing it

Building community resilience, not just personal

Learning from failures rather than being crushed by them

Maintaining hope in seemingly hopeless situations

5. PRINCIPLED FLEXIBILITY 🌊

Not just "having values" but:

Knowing which principles to bend and which to hold firm

Adapting moral frameworks to new information

Navigating ethical gray areas without losing their core

Growing their values through experience rather than rigidity

Finding compromise without betraying essential beliefs

Recognizing when rules must be broken for a greater good

6. DISRUPTIVE KINDNESS ❤️

Not just "being nice" but:

Kindness that challenges systems of oppression

Unexpected kindness that changes enemies' perspectives

Kindness as a radical choice in brutal environments

Kindness that requires genuine sacrifice

Kindness that sees beyond surface behaviors to underlying needs

Kindness that doesn't expect recognition or reciprocation

7. CONSTRUCTIVE SKEPTICISM 🔍

Not just "questioning things" but:

The ability to discern truth from manipulation

Healthy doubt of authority without cynicism

Critical thinking that leads to solutions, not just criticism

Questioning their own assumptions first

Seeking multiple perspectives before forming judgments

Recognizing patterns of deception or misinformation

8. STRATEGIC VULNERABILITY 💧

Not just "being open" but:

Knowing when vulnerability creates connection

Sharing weaknesses to build trust at critical moments

Using personal stories to help others feel less alone

Admitting mistakes to model growth for others

Asking for help when independence would be destructive

Showing emotion strategically to influence outcomes

The Strength Spectrum: Make It Complex!

Remember that any strength exists on a spectrum! The most interesting characters have strengths that sometimes function as weaknesses depending on the context.

For example:

Loyalty becomes enabling when taken too far

Curiosity becomes recklessness in dangerous situations

Honesty becomes cruelty without empathy

Ambition becomes destructive when ethics are compromised

Compassion becomes self-destruction without boundaries

Independence becomes isolation when connection is needed

Confidence becomes arrogance without self-reflection

Cautiousness becomes paralysis when action is required

Strengths in Character Arcs 📈

The MAGIC happens when you show how strengths evolve throughout your story:

The Dormant Strength - A character doesn't know they possess it until circumstances force it out

The Misused Strength - They have the strength but are applying it in harmful ways

The Costly Strength - Using this strength requires genuine sacrifice

The Transformative Strength - This strength fundamentally changes who they are

The Shared Strength - They teach/inspire this strength in others

The Rediscovered Strength - A strength they lost faith in that returns when most needed

The Evolving Strength - A strength that changes form as the character grows

The Collaborative Strength - A strength that only emerges when combined with another character's abilities

Writing Exercise for You! 📝

Take your protagonist and identify:

One strength they've always had and rely on

One strength they don't know they have yet

One strength that's actually causing problems

One strength they'll need to develop to overcome the main conflict

One strength they admire in someone else

One strength they've lost and need to reclaim

Genre-Crossing Character Strengths

These strengths work across ALL genres:

Perceptive Pattern Recognition - Seeing connections others miss

Adaptive Authenticity - Remaining true to themselves while evolving

Constructive Conflict Navigation - Using disagreement to build stronger relationships

Radical Responsibility - Owning their part in problems without self-flagellation

Generative Listening - Hearing beyond words to underlying meanings

Intentional Impact Awareness - Understanding how their actions affect others

Courageous Vulnerability - Risking rejection for authentic connection

Principled Pragmatism - Finding workable solutions that honor core values

Remember that in ANY genre, your character strengths should connect to their internal journey as much as their external conflicts. The most compelling characters have strengths that are tested, lost, rediscovered, transformed, and ultimately deepened through their story arc. 🌟

The most powerful character strengths aren't superpowers or extraordinary abilities - they're deeply human qualities taken to their most compelling expression. They're the things we recognize in ourselves but rarely develop fully. That's why they resonate so deeply with readers across all genres and age categories.

Hope this helps you craft characters with rich, nuanced strengths! Let me know if you want me to dive deeper into any of these - I could talk character development ALL DAY! 💖

~ Rin. T.

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 9 part 4

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2][3][4][5][6])

it's still agatha and her river

mama, I'm sorry I got upset. mama I'm sorry we're both starving tonight. I promise I'll do better tomorrow.

a six year old taking responsibility and apologizing for his mother's shortcomings.

agatha looks down at her precious little boy's pleading face

and she smiles at him, and nicky gives her a big relieved grin.

evanora is not stealing this moment. she did her worst to fuck with agatha's brain chemistry, but in one fundamental thing she failed: agatha is capable of loving her kid. despite all her other shortcomings, she will never blame nicky for her own faults.

she does a cute little dance for him, and this is what they do, isn't it? he's too small to explain his big feelings and she is too scared, and so they sing to each other and hope the love is understood anyway.

see how he touches the brooch? if only she could have loved nicky in vacuum, without any of the emotional baggage. but he is only the last link in a long chain of witches, pain and and tears and blood that made him what he is. agatha cannot escape her identity and legacy no matter how much she tries, and she couldn't protect nicky from it either.

the last time she sees nicky alive he's smiling adoringly at her. this is the boy she can't face in the afterlife, because her own guilt is so strong she's convinced he will hate her.

nicky dies peacefully in his mother's arms. his soul wakes up and sees rio waiting for him.

that some good cinema dear lord

rio waves at nicky. he doesn't know her (when who will return?) but he still trusts her implicity - she's been around him his whole short life, in the woods, in the water, in his lungs.

and - the bit that destroyed us all - rio makes nicky go to agatha one last time. go kiss your mama goodbye.

light and dark, growth and decay, here and beyond.

remember when alice died and the camera turned upside down? it stops halfway here. agatha has been affected so profoundly by nicky's death that she can never let herself go back to the land of the living, but she's also too scared to follow rio to the other side. she's stuck in the middle, consumed by the impossible dream of bringing nicky back, never allowing herself to find peace and companionship again. in love with death, but running away from it.

(people never seem to make crack and humor vids for episode 9, isn't that curious? when it's soooo fun and lighthearted!)

well ain't that just brutal

I have always known

This Road is cruel and wild

I bury my own heart

Here with you, my child

(I think those are lavender flowers? I'm not 100% sure)

coolcoolcoolcoolcool. that's fine. I'm absolutely fine.

BARRIERS UP right away. even if she looks like a mess. especially because she looks like a mess. she's not showing weakness in front of anyone, she's protecting her grief like a jealous goblin, and since she cannot run, she straightens her dress and gets ready to fight. the option to ask for help and comfort doesn't even cross her mind.

her eyes still full of tears / agatha gets another wonderful, awful idea.

we've seen this so many times, haven't we? the real agatha disappears behind the character she plays. the agatha we've seen from the very start, since the moment she walked into wanda's living room, has been a lie. very few people have ever seen a hint of the poor bruised heart she hides inside, and only to rio and (to some extent) nicky she has ever opened up.

how can someone go from total heartbreak to planning murder in the span of two minutes? well, you can if you are agatha harkness and have never learned one healthy coping mechanism in your life. and I'm sure she's already rationalizing it as something like "if I get powerful enough I can bring nicky back." but the truth is, she just wants to get drunk on magic and murder and stop feeling so horrible. she's running away, like usual. she's planning to kill witches in front of the grave of the very kid who begged her not to, and she's using his song to do it. as if that's not gonna haunt her or anything.

(it really gets me how agatha's smiles are so different from kathryn's. agatha never smiles with her eyes, except when she's with nicky.)

agatha's diabolical scam is so stupid if you think about, definitely worthy of the clown she has become. just pretend the Road didn't open and then annoy people into attacking you! better than using a literal child as bait, I guess.

here she absorbs a yellow coven, and yep, it does look like covens are all supposed to be the same color?

the bodies from the agnes of westview opening.

orange coven in the late 1800s. I really like that dress and hat on her

blue coven in the 1920s, and another cunty outfit

I know you guys like the 90s look, but it makes me laugh how hard she was trying for that Craft vibe. and we don't see the beams color here.

and finally, our girls. (I miss you all so muchhhhh)

what do you know! looks like a door has appeared! (sharonnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn!!!!!)

from fuck has my karma caught up with me to well well well, looks like we have another little maximoff on our hands

and speaking of little maximoffs and giant assholes...

go to episode 9 part 5