#like. ugh. whatever shall i do

[shameful4]

bleh

[phtalogreenpoison]

GUYS GUYS I JUST HAD A THOUGHT

..fyodor parenting aya.

that's it. that's the thought.

[agentark]

live look at me bringing Beckett to the coroner's office, failing the stat check to get the doctor talking, BUT getting whisperings of ass kicking B:

[ria-starstruck]

ur honor they are literally fucked up little foils of each other

thumbnails of ideas i was having for very fancy pieces under the cut! we’ll see if i get around to actually finishing any of them

[lesbianraskolnikov]

I will read more books i promise though i cannot say if id talk as much as i do this.

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCXDP FIC IDEA: The Dauntless Matchmaker

Danny Fenton is short on cash. He has been short on cash almost all his adult life, but usually, he can pull through untill the last minute before breaking and asking his family for help.

It's a pain in a half trying to find a job that is flexible enough to accommodate his "Health" issues.

He needs time off to keep his agreement. See back when he was sixteen, he realized that the ghosts that had been bothering him were all trying to challenge him for his power.

At first he looked like easy prey- being new and all- but the more fights he won the more his reputation rose and that made the ghosts attack less frequently.

They just became harder since the big guns wanted a crack at him. Danny proposed that the fights be in neutral grounds- the ghost zone- since fights in Amity Park were ruining his haunt.

Haunt Rights were highly protected and respected in the Infinite Releams.

His adversaries agreed under the condition that Danny responded to the battles within two hours; otherwise, they would haunt him in the human world.

Ghost fighting in the Infinite Releams to keep the ghosts busy, and nowadays, only the strongest bothered him like a bi-weekly challenge from dead beings that don't understand scheduling.

It worked out.....until he couldn't explain why he was missing so often in the human world. With the help of some friendly ghosts, he was able to fake a diagnosis of some muscle disorder and has been living with the excuse that he would go MIA because of it. He missed a lot.

Often enough to have almost every job he's gotten to fire him.

This brings him to his current problem. Yes, Danny can argue that he has a disability but to do so would mean having someone look into it and realize it's not real.

So when Charlie from the Tea MadHouse tells him not to bother returning tomorrow after a four-day-long battle, he can only sigh and turn in his tea maker apron.

He might have to call his parents to ask for help on this month's rent. That's a bitter pill to swallow.

If only there was a job that he could do that had no problem with him taking multiple days off without notice.

"Pardon me. I need a moment of your time." a voice calls out. Danny twists around, turning his neck slightly downwards to meet the green-eyed stare of a young boy.

"I have a proposition for you. My elder brother requires a fake lover to fool our family butler into thinking that he has moved on from the heartbreak of his last disastrous relationship. Not that anyone could blame Dowd for ending things with Drake. In any case, seeing as I have witnessed your unemployment, I figured you would do well for the job."

Danny blinks "I'm sorry?"

The kid pulls out a wad of cash. Danny can practically hear the ca-ching sound surrounding the boy as he raises a brow.

He gapes as the youth slaps the cash into his hand without so much as a blink.

"Do we have an accord?" The boy asks while Danny slowly turns the money in his hand.

"Whatever you say, temporary in-law," He says after flipping through the bills only to realize it's a hundred-dollars. A quick count of how many he's been handed causes his eyes to almost pop out of thier socket.

It's more then enough for this month's rent-hell he has some left over for at least four months!

"Excellent, we are expected at dinner. If Drake acts surprised to see you merely tap the table six times, then four. He shall fall into line and build off our lie."

Danny scrambles after the kid, nodding to himself. "Six, then four. Got it. Ugh, does the dinner have a dress code?"

It sounds like it would since a young boy just gave out hundreds like it was nothing. Danny would feel bad showing up in an old pair of jeans and a faded t-shirt.

Maybe he has a formal shirt somewhere.

The boy's green eyes flickered to him, then his watch on his wrist. "An impressive observation. Pennyworth will not be impressed by a poorly dressed paramour. We have time to purchase a suit. Come along."

Danny has no idea how someone so small can walk so fast. He feels his breathing is coming in quick bursts, but the boy doesn't seem winded at all. He winces when the boy enters a well-known suit place that is very pricey. "Is this coming out of my pay?"

"No. This shall be covered by the company card," The strange child says, holding up a black card with a quick flick of his wrist. At the sight of it, two store attendants appear at their side, offering assistance. Danny has never seen such power.

"W-wait we have a company card?" He shutters, overwhelmed by the attendant pushing him into a changing room and a light blue suit in his arms.

"Yes. However, you have a limit on what can be spent with it. I shall review the details later regarding your medical, dental, and vision benefits."

"I GET DENTAL?!"

"Of course. America's ridiculous health programs will mistreat no employee of mine simply due to lack of funds. " The boy scoffed, sounding offended by the very idea.

Danny doesn't care how long he needs to pretend to be this boy's boyfriend, and he'll sign a contract right now.

_______________________________________

Damian waited for Fenton to finish trying on all the suits the personal sellers had pushed onto him. He personally thinks the light blue was the best but it doesn't hurt to try other options.

They need Fenton to look his best to woo Drake and get him to stop acting so pathetic.

Yes, Dowd had broken up with him for reasons Damian is unaware of, nor does he care enough to find them, but Drake has had plenty of people break up with him before and remain on good terms with him.

Just look at Brown.

Drake had also always bounced right back after the breakup, usually because he would get tied up in either work at Wayne Industries or Red Robin.

Yet, for some reason, unlike all the others, Dowd leaving has not only been messy it also threw Drake into a downwards spiral.

He has refused even to get dress- walking around in a bathrobe and fluffy slippers- eating ice cream and sobbing over photos of Dowd for hours on end. He taken a leave from Wayne Industries and mostly stayed on monitor duty as Red Robin.

At other times, he plays sad songs and watches romance movies with a dead look in his eyes. Usually there were crumbs of some unknown spicy chips all over his face too.

Really it was unseemly.

It's been four months of this, and Drake does not seem to be getting it together. Damian had researched online, and all of the articles indicate that he should have felt better by the third-month mark.

He would have left the fool well alone only Pennyworth is beginning to worry. And Damian refuses to let Pennyworth worry over something fixable.

His research showed that a "rebound" was highly recommended (if done correctly), in the healing process of a breakup. Drake refused to find one, so Damian assigned himself the task of finding one for him instead.

He considered Drake's past lovers' looks, interests, and personalities. Then creating a list of what was considered a good candidate he wandered around Gotham in search of someone who would be a perfect rebound.

His efforts led him to Tea MadHouse- a tea shop with a surprisingly good coffee menu- where Daniel Fenton worked. Over three weeks, Damian had watched him, categorizing the pros and cons that Drake would find within Fenton, and concluded that he would be perfect.

The fact Fenton has lost his job now only worked in his favor. He'll convince Drake that Fenton is a decoy for Pennyworth - since Drake was getting fed up with all the hovering- and he would never notice that the real target of this fake relationship would be Drake himself all along.

Fenton will woo him, sweep him off his feet, make him forget Dowd and ride off into the sunset with Drake none the wiser. It was full-proof.

Damian will make Drake rebound on Fenton, even if he has to throw the idiot at the other teen. He is getting awful tired of the concerned glances whenever Drake slumps his way into a room.

No other reason. He certainly didn't care about Drake that much nor did does he lay awake at night wondering how Drake is doing now that he does not have someone to hold him.

Drake doesn't sleep well alone.

"How do I look?" Fenton stepped out of the booth wearing the light blue suit. It made his eyes pop and framed his body well.

Yes, muscular. The body of a boxer. Drake will lose his mind over those biceps.

"Ravishing." He tells the nineteen-year-old. Damian barely bites back a smirk as Fenton flushed, painting a pretty picture. Drake enjoys talking his lovers up, and Fenton will do well to receive plenty of compliments. "Let us be off."

Drake won't know what hit him.

[hypewinter]

Jason had been sitting in his living room, maintenancing his weapons when a circle appeared before him. It was big and swirling. It's hue very much akin to the sickening green of the Lazarus pits. He quickly realized the circle was in fact a portal as a teen stepped out of it. The teen wore surgical gloves and a mask over what appeared to be a hazmat suit. His hair was silver and seemed unaffected by gravity. Worse of all though, were his eyes that were that same damn color that Jason had long since grown to hate.

Jason grabbed two guns that were not currently taken apart and aimed them at the boy, taking a menacing step forward as he did so. "Who are you?" he growled. "What do you want?"

To his surprise, the boy didn't threaten him or gloat about some massive plan already under way. He didn't even offer some sort of vague, cryptic advice. Instead, the teen actually took a step back, covering his nose with one arm while putting the other up in surrender.

"Don't come any close!" he yelped. "The stench is already bad enough from here."

Jason blinked. What? "Excuse me?" was all he could utter.

The boy turned away slightly and dry heaved. "Ugh, so nasty."

Jason was having trouble figuring out what was going on. Even with his detective training. "Did you- did you just call me nasty?" he finally managed to splutter out.

The boy turned back to him, his eyes crinkling in utter disgust. "Uh, yeah. What else would you call a flea infested rat?"

"Flea infested-" Jason squawked.

"Listen could you just come with me so that we can get all of that taken care of asap," the boy said, gesturing towards Jason.

Regaining his composure a little, Jason tightened his grip on his weapons. "Hell no! I'm not going anywhere with you until you start explaining."

Despite having two guns pointed at his head, the teen only let out a deep sigh.

"Fine, have it your way." He replied, stepping towards Jason. The vigilante heard the kid mumbling, "You can do this. Think of it as handling a stinky baby. A very disease infested stinky baby," as he got closer and closer.

Jason fired off a warning shot next to the kid but the boy didn't even flinch. Fine, Jason thought. We can do this the hard way. He aimed at the boy's knee cap and fired. Only for the bullet to pass right through him. The boy neared him before picking him up like an unruly kitten. Jason went limp as he officially stopped processing what was happening. How the hell had this kid managed to lift him so effortlessly?

He didn't put up a fight as the boy turned around and led them both back through the portal, his arms outstretched as far away from his torso as possible. Jason's mind had just barely started to process information again when this weird furry, horned creature appeared in front of him.

"Ah Great One! You've returned," it said.

"Yeah yeah just hurry up and take this from me before I throw up!" the teen replied, setting Jason down and distancing himself.

The creature fixed the boy with a stern look. "That is not how we treat patients, Great One. Need I remind you? It was you who wanted to be my apprentice and all that entails. That includes treating our patients with the utmost professionalism. Regardless of your personal feelings."

The teen actually had the nerve to look sheepish, maybe even a little guilty. As if he hadn't just spent the last 5 minutes mercilessly insulting Jason.

The two continued talking for a time and Jason was more than happy to let them. It gave him time to process what the hell he was looking at and with any luck, they would let slip some crucial information. Instead however, they ended up discussing more about whatever this apprenticeship was before the weird looking creature turned back towards Jason.

"Apologies for the rudeness my apprentice has shown you," he said.

Jason muttered out an 'uh huh' in response.

The creature clapped his hands. "Now then, shall we get you examined?"

Examined? Jason staring blankly at the creature. Then he stared at the teen, hoping to gleam any info from their facial expressions. Nothing. And of course he did have his comms or his sos signal on him. Great, just great. What an absolutely craptastic situation he found himself in. He'd be sure to come back and haunt Bruce this time. Maybe even Dick. He swore that much.

[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: Shedding

[mysterious circle of robed figures] JK Rowling: hello children Rowling: i have terrible, bone-chilling newsss Rowling: did you know that india willoughby exisssstsss? Rowling: thiss makess me ssso mad

Rowling: i know you're all ussed to me being ssubtle Rowling: you know, talking about womensss ssafety and all that Rowling: but i'm done with that Rowling: now i enter endgame

Rowling: tonight my rage ssshall fuel my final transssformation Rowling: tonight i sshed my ssskin for the lassst time Rowling: gone will be the resspectable normie lib ssspotted patterning Rowling: henceforth i shall wear banded patterning [puts on arm band]

Rowling: now i sshed my ssskin and obsserve my transformation to full blood purity fascism Helen Joyce: but dark lord! it's too obvious! Joyce: what if the rubes notice? Rowling: just point to that old "wear whatever you want" post and pretend i meant it

Rowling: i'll be right back, gonna go shed a sskin Rowling: now before i leave one lasst directive Rowling: you lot don't do anything ssilly while i'm gone Rowling: you know, anything that would make our entire causse look dumb or anything Joyce: you can count on us, dark lord!

[Rowling exits] Joyce: so Joyce: anyone wanna hear this new fan fic i've been working on Jesse Singal: when does mommy get back

Joyce: so Joyce: so my story has draco/hermione otp, noncon, dubcon, cuckolding, underage, lemon, coffeeshop au, crackfic Kathleen Stock: noooo helen! don't read fanfic! don't you know fanfic turns you trans? Joyce: sorry its a risk i have to take Joyce: for science

Joyce: look, i'm going to scientifically prove that fanfiction turns you trans Joyce: luckily i'm built of stronger stuff Joyce: the rest of you just plug your ears Stock: what about you, helen? Joyce: lash me to the mast

Stock: i've been writing a fan fic too Stock: it's about the love between the Unknown, an evil choclatier who lives in the walls, and this mysteriously sexy lady oompa loompa who everybody loves who is named Stathleen Kock [permaberry, leaking juice, enjoyment, enemies to lovers]

Rowling: ok i'm back Helen Joyce: dark lord! how does it feel to shed your lib skin of plausible deniability to don your extremely online skin of blood purity? Rowling: i feel sstrong! powerful! like a new ssnake! Rowling: i feel like i can sssay Rowling: ALL THE SSSLURSS!!!

Rowling: tinktonk! cricklecrack! boofnoggin! i can sssay them all!!! Rowling: no now mudblood can ssstand in my way! Rowling: doess india willoughby still exissst? Joyce: yes dark lord! Rowling: [coiling in rage] the cheek!!!! the audacity!!!

Rowling: ugh, look at india willoughby, performing feminine joy! Rowling: womanhood isn't about joy! Rowling: true femininity is being miserable all the time, posting and also being banned from seeing your grandchildren

[theoddest1]

Hey, isn't it so..."Great" that Viv is out here liking posts that clearly find moments where Angel is being sexual with his rapist "Hot" How much more telling can this all get, right? We really sit here, having to explain how fucked up it is to take SA, try to tackle it "seriously" but then proceed to not even do it for that reason. Only for it to be for angst and goon material. How do you expect me to SIT HERE and take whatever Viv has to offer seriously? The number of people I have seen trying to justify this gross behavior is abysmal. If you have this kink or whatever, fine not like I can stop you, be into that shit somewhere else, but DO NOT try and TACKLE IT only for it to be not even seen as serious or as a way for you to get off to your sick fantasies.

Why the hell would you like this? "Angel with his abusive rapist boss😝, so hot guys! Can'tstop thinking about it!"

What good reason would Viv have in liking this post? Why do over 4k people find a post like this neat? "Oh they're fictional, it's gucci, stop bitching" wouldn't need to bitch if people didn't outright sexualize moments meant to tackle an irl fucking problem.

By the way, this person ships Angel and Valentino together. Their pinned tweet is legit sexual Val and Angel art. I wouldn't recommend attacking them regardless if you disagree with their ships and what they deem...ugh "hot."

Fair warning to I WILL be showing some of their arts and reblogs as evidence, so if you are not into that sort of thing (anything NSFW), I highly recommend scrolling past my post or past this section of it.

.

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I'm pretty sure Viv actively searches for this sort of thing on Twitter, like it's PAINFULLY obvious that she does. How you just so happen to like a post clear af lusting for this abusive relationship YOU CLAIMED to take seriously that ALSO happens to be from an account that ships the abuser with the victim? Gtfo with your two-faced shit, just say your find this hot instead of lying your absolute ass off. The audacity for some fans to go after one group of people for liking questionable stuff only to let other questionable things slide. Like homie, you can let rape slide, but draw the line for any other questionable thing? How's about you have that energy for EVERYTHING with your hypocritical asses. Ion wanna hear y'all stank ass make callouts if you're okay with a rapist being shipped with someone he actively harms in various ways.

And Viv

You say this entire sequence is meant to be uncomfortable, meant to not sugar-coat how awful this situation is, and supposedly have people who are victims/survivors themselves, yet here you are liking posts from people who do anything but take it seriously and even sexualize it. That's absolutely insane to me. And reminds me how you were drooling over some pins that glamorize the abuse Angel and supposedly Husk goes through, you know, the same character that COMPARED his abuse with Angel's.

Ah yes, let's downplay how horrible Angel's situation is further, shall we? Let's especially do it after adamantly arguing with other SA survivors who "haven't seen the episode yet" and need to shut up or don't watch 😃. Let's ignore the fact that Husk and Angel's situations STILL aren't comparable but it's still very odd to have pins on TWO situations taken seriously in the show. So do you actually view the situations seriously or not Viv???

God she's....actually fucking stupid and horrid.

[bg-brainrot]

The Thousandth Time (Astarion x GN!Tav)

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Summary: Astarion and Rogue!Tav make love for the thousandth time. In a bathtub.

Tags: Smut, Slice of life, POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Fluff, Spawn Astarion, Post-Canon, bathtub sex, sloppy sex, seriously just sickeningly sweet smut, Spawn Astarion, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Domesticity is romantic, Hand Jobs, Blood Drinking

A/N: Some context-- I wanted to write soft, gender neutral smut. And by the gods is this soft. I tried to look at what it's like to love someone for so long. In my experience, when you've been with someone for so many years, you still find a lot of love in the little things. which I hope I hit? Anyway, enjoy!!

Word count: ~5.3k

The thousandth time you make love to Astarion, you don't know it's the thousandth time.

It's a day like any other, really.

After a long day at the guild, you've arrived home, a sigh on your lips, a furrow to your brow.

"Whatever is the matter, my dear?"

You compose your expression and turn toward your lover. "Astarion," you start, a reflexive wistfulness to your tone. Gods are you glad to see him after a day like today. "Nothing is the matter. Nothing important anyway. Simply glad to be home."

Astarion gives you a look that says he doesn't quite believe you, but knows better than to pry too deeply into issues you'd rather not bring home. "Very well, darling. But you know I'm all pointy ears. Especially if Nine-Fingers has been difficult again."

"Ugh," you say, wincing in annoyance. "Do not say her name right now."

The vampire gives you a bright, toothy laugh. "That bad, eh?" You nod. He walks toward you, arms outstretched. "Mmm in that case, shall we call it an early night tonight?"

You dive into the comfort of his arms, holding him to you, inhaling his fresh, familiar scent. It feels like the day's troubles melt in his cold embrace, and the tension in your body finally relaxes. "That might be nice."

"Dinner first?" he asks, pulling away from you slightly.

You look into his warm crimson eyes, feel that same warmth reflected in your face. Of course, he’d check to see if your mortal needs have been met. "No need, I've eaten. How about you?"

Astarion brings a hand up to inspect your face, this way, then that. It’s as if he’s examining you for injury, not assessing if he can partake in a bit of your blood. "Mmm, you seem a tad tired, love."

"You know I'll manage. Besides, get my blood while it's still boiling with rage," you say, craning your neck for him in response.

"As delectable as that sounds,” he begins, letting go of your face, tracing his fingers along your neck. “I think a bath and bed ought to come first."

You want to argue the point, make sure he's fed to the best of your ability, but the yawn that escapes you is irrefutable. With nary another word, his hand is on the small of your back, guiding you toward the bath.

"Would you like to join me?" you ask him as you open the door. Your expression is calm, the question harboring no hidden intentions. Any other day, you may have raised an eyebrow at him suggestively, begun taking off your armor in a tease– but you're tired, simply not wanting to relinquish the feel of his arms around you.

"Certainly, if it keeps you from falling asleep in the tub…" he trails off, looking at you warily. He appears torn, somewhere between keeping you from drowning and keeping you from resting.

You give him a wry smile. “Imagine that. After felling all manner of beasts and men, finally succumbing to the tub.”

Astarion offers you a reluctant smile in return. “My love, I swear to every god above and below, if you die in any manner even remotely that ludicrous, I shall have to pretend not to know you at your funeral.”

“That’s fair,” you say, holding a hand out to him. “Best to make sure that doesn’t happen then, don’t you think?”

The man can’t argue with that, nor does he seem to want to. After an entire day away from each other, this closeness is exactly what the two of you crave. So he takes your offered hand, and follows you into the bathroom.

It has been years since you had added a tub big enough for the two of you in your house. While the two of you had accrued wealth enough for an entire bathhouse, you’d settled for a more modest setup. At least, modest in Astarion’s eyes.

The floor is made of the finest marble tiles, the walls of intricately laid and patterned brick. And in the center of the room, is the room’s main attraction: the enormous, magical tub. It’s long enough that you could comfortably lay down across the entire bottom, wide enough that you have to extend your arms to reach both sides. The outer edges are infused with enchantments to improve your bathing experience, and the tub itself is made of the highest quality crystal that gold can buy.

Once you enter the room, you activate the heat and water sigils along the basin’s edges and turn back to Astarion. “Would you mind grabbing some soaps from the shelf?”

He gives you a lopsided grin, eyes crinkling with amusement, but still moves to do as you ask. “Would you also like me to bathe you while I’m at it?”

“Oh, would you?” you ask half-joking. You begin to strip your armor off, piece by piece.

“Mmm,” he murmurs, picking out a few of his preferred scents from a shelf on the wall. He’s accumulated quite the collection now, enjoying mixing and matching as his nose guides him. “That could be arranged.”

You’re almost halfway through your armor when he returns, bottles of lemon, bergamot, and sage soaps in hand. “Ah, you know how much I love bergamot,” you say, smiling at it fondly, pausing halfway through undoing your leather straps.

“I know,” he says, placing them next to the tub before turning his attention fully to you. “I also know that you need help with that armor or we may be here all night.”

Holding your arms out wordlessly, Astarion starts to unbuckle each and every strap from the front of your padded armor. As he releases you from its confines, you take a deep, relieved breath and say, “Thank you, love.”

“It’s my pleasure,” he murmurs, leaving a long lingering touch along your now exposed collarbone. “While you strike quite the image in your armor, I think I much prefer you without.”

You laugh, feeling quite light in the now steaming room. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say your mind is straying quite far from rest, Astarion.”

The vampire shrugs, beginning to tug at your undershirt and small clothes with each of his hands. “Merely stating fact, my darling.”

With a few smooth movements, he’s taken off the last of your clothing, exposing every inch of you to the warmth of the room and the heat of his gaze. He seems just about ready to bury his head in your neck, begin covering every piece of you in kisses, when you speak, “Excuse me, are you planning to enter the bath in your house clothes?”

Astarion looks down at his own garb, the comfortable satins and silks of a man who spent the day lounging at home. When faced with your words and, ugh, logic, he says with a sigh, “Would you do the honors?”

You need no more invitation before your hands are on his soft, flowing shirt, running along it appreciatively. “Is this new?”

“It is,” he says, a hint of pride in his voice. “Do you like it?”

“It feels magnificent,” you respond, beginning to undo its buttons. “I may just have to steal it for myself one of these days.”

His lips purse at you. “You know, you could simply ask, darling.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” you taunt, pulling up on the shirt's edges, tugging it up and off of him. Now, faced with the plane of his ivory chest, your fingers act on instinct. They trail down his shoulders, trace the line of his pectorals, drop down the center of his stomach to the waist of his pants.

Astarion gives you a low, approving noise before asking you wryly, “Now whose mind is straying?”

“Not mine,” you respond, pulling his pants and underwear down in one smooth motion. “My hands are just so tired, I’m sure you understand.”

“Surely,” he responds, as he pulls each foot out of his pant legs. “How is the water?”

The bath is steaming by now, visibly fogging up the room, but still, you bend down to skim your hands along its surface. “Ah, it’s warm,” you say, gripping the edge with one hand. “Maybe too warm?”

“No such thing,” he responds, and one of his hands lands next to yours as he bends down to feel the water for himself. The man gives a happy hum before asking, “Shall we then?” Then his now-wet hand is smacking your butt, his head gesturing toward the waiting water. 

“Excuse you,” you say, indignantly, as you turn toward him. “I'm tired.” But you don't feel tired. Not after running your hands over his cold skin. Not after feeling the quick contact of his hand on your backside.

“Not to worry, darling. I’ll take care of you.”

As in, bathing or–? Luckily you don't have much more time to think about it before he’s lowering himself into the tub. Even with his quick movement, even with the water’s slight obscurity, you easily note that Astarion’s cock has stirred in interest.

Ah. While you hadn’t meant to illicit anything by inviting him… it’s certainly not unwelcome. It’s a good thing that your exhaustion is all but melting away under his loving touches.

Acutely aware of his sharp gaze on the length of your back, you turn to face away from him, grab the edge of the tub, and slowly enter its warmth. As was customary in your baths, he would start with your back, so you take a spot in front of him, leaving just enough room for him to settle behind you as he pleases.

Too much room clearly, as Astarion immediately scoots forward, extending his legs to each side of you. You feel his hardening length graze your backside as he does so and can’t help the smile that curves your lips.

"Astarion, dear,” you start, placing your hands on each of his knees under the water. “Are you certain you want to bathe me?"

“And why wouldn't I be?” He leans closer, planting a soft kiss along your spine.

You debate backing up into his groin to prove a point but instead shake your head. "No reason, I suppose."

He begins by lathering his hands in a mixture of soaps, carefully measured out by eye and feel. All the while, you sit before him, hands on each of his calves, thumbs repeatedly rubbing the ridge of his muscles. While he’d had a nice, calm day today, his calves are always so tight from sneaking about– and it’s the least you can do for the man that’s bathing you.

Then his hands get to work.

At first he drags both hands along your back, once, twice. Once he’s made sure that soap covers every inch of you, he starts massaging you, working the soap into your skin, kneading into your sore muscles.

Astarion knows your body so intimately and, after so many years of tending to each other, he rubs all of your tightest spots. His knuckles press deep into your neck. His fingers work around your upper back. His thumbs dig underneath the edges of your shoulder blades, working out the knots he knows lay beneath. And, by the gods, if you thought you’d been melting under his caresses before, now you’re practically a puddle.

You can’t help the noises that come out at the sensation of his nimble fingers at work. Your shoulders ache from a long day of sneaking, stabbing, and general tension of dealing with people– the relief is palpable in the way you relax into his touch, grip his legs, and release several breathy moans.

And with each moan, you can feel his cock growing firmer against you. After the first few, you can feel him shift closer with every noise he draws from you. Knowing your affect on him has always done something to stir the fire in you, and this time it has you shifting uncomfortably as heat blooms between your legs. The both of you spur the other’s building lust, all the while the fresh scent that Astarion’s concocted permeates the air.

Then, when it’s clear he’s done with your back, thoroughly satisfied with each gasping breath of pleasure, his hands drop from your shoulders. They tail down your back, playing along your spine. And, in an almost leisurely motion, they wrap around your torso, where they finally settle on your chest.

I don’t think this is a relaxing bath anymore, you think distantly. Yet you’re unable to resist leaning into his palms, arching into his touch.

Sensing your shuffles, Astarion curls further into your back, almost entirely flush to you now. His fingers feel their way to each of your nipples, first gently brushing against them, then thumbing over them each in turn. They respond eagerly, perking up under his delicate sweep.

“Astarion,” you begin, turning your head back to him slightly and raising an eyebrow. “What are you doing?” Your tone isn’t exactly admonishing– your voice comes out too quiet, desire muffling all other emotions.

His hands trail down your chest, past the surface of the bath water, settling on each of your thighs before he responds, voice low, lips inches away from your ear. “Making sure that every single centimeter of my beautiful darling is clean, of course.”

“Astarion, I thought you would be, ahh… taking care of me," you say, barely holding on to your trail of thought as his hands dip between your legs, brushing your sensitive core.

“I am taking care of you,” he whispers, finally closing the remaining distance between your back, his front. At the feel of his stiff cock pressing against your back, you give an involuntary gasp. He seems to enjoy your reaction, taking a moment to slowly grind the entire length of his hardened arousal along your backside once, before he settles between your cheeks. “Unless you’d rather leave all of this stress pent up, my dear?”

You’d been tired– been ready to bathe and head off to bed. But something about this man never fails to ignite the fire in your heart– or your loins. “I suppose not,” you murmur, releasing Astarion’s calf, running up his leg with your fingers, landing on his arm, gripping it closer to you.

“I knew you would see reason,” he says, taking your grip as guidance. His hand moves down to begin stroking your heat, building up steadily to the fast-paced rhythm he knows you like. In the water’s buoyant embrace, his actions feel a touch more fluid, his fingers more silken.

It has taken time experimenting together to reach this place– one of utmost security and intimate knowledge of each others’ bodies. But now that you’re here, you’ve found that Astarion’s agile fingers are obscenely precise in their movements. Like he knows exactly which pins to tumble to unlock your utmost excitement.

So you can't help the way you buck into his touch, nor the way the water sloshes around you both in response.

"Careful, love," he says, hand stilling. "We don't want to make a mess this time, do we?"

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you remember the last time this had happened, how the floor had been practically flooded. You should agree with him, make sure that such an incident doesn't occur again. But the front of your mind is wholly occupied, thinking only of how he's stopped moving his hand, how being careful may mean that he takes it too gently. "Mmm, we managed to clean it up well enough," you respond, jerking your hips back, pressing against him with need.

Astarion's laughter rings upon the bathroom's stone walls, before it turns into a groan as you roll your hips once more. His voice is a bit huskier when he responds, "You know we’re going to regret it later.”

You smile back at him, satisfied with the noise you’ve elicited. “Sounds like a problem for later, doesn’t it?” Then your hand squeezes his arm, motioning it back down to your now throbbing arousal. “For now, what was that about releasing my stress?”

“Oh very well… in that case, let’s find where you ache most, shall we?” Astarion murmurs, dipping his head, placing a kiss on the base of your neck. “Here?” Your shoulder. “Or perhaps here?” Then his hand settles back between your legs, fingers touching you in a rather delicate caress. “Or maybe here?”

You hum a noise of approval as his . “Oh, there.”

His fingers close on your swollen sex, rubbing languidly as he whispers in your ear, “Mmm, darling. So much tension…” A bit more pressure. “I must simply…” A bit faster pace. “Massage it all away…”

If anything, his touches cause you to grasp at his legs harder, all of the muscles in your body responding in kind to his ministrations. Your back arches instinctively, earning an exquisite groan from Astarion. So when his next stroke causes you to clench, you lean into it, grinding your ass back into the full length of his erection, sliding easily in the water’s low friction.

His other hand finds its way to your hip, helping you match his pace as you continue to rock into him.

The two of you fall into a beautiful, raucous rhythm, each open and generous with your vocal pleasure, the water’s regular splashes punctuating each movement.

“Yes, yes, gods, Astarion.”

“My sweet, you’re the only divine thing here.”

Then your words begin to lose sense, your rhythm begins to falter, and it’s clear that you won’t last much longer under his caring fingers.

You also know that Astarion hasn’t been tended to nearly as well as you have.

So you move to turn toward him. With how his full length twitches against you in urgency, your own nimble fingers ought to return the favor.

Astarion stops you, placing his unoccupied hand back on your chest to hold you in place. "Ah ah ah. Love, I'm here to help you."

"You are helping,” you start, pushing back against his hand. “But I don’t want to leave you like this.” ‘This’ is obvious as the man clearly exercises every ounce of self control he has judging from the visible veins on his arm, the way his legs squeeze reflexively around you each time he strokes you.

He gives you a reluctant groan, one that does nothing to hide his desire. “Must you always be so selfless?” His hand doesn’t release your chest though, and he begins tracing delicate, wet circles around one of your nipples, as he murmurs, “Fine, just let me continue.”

Staying in place for him, you reach back with one hand to feel for his cock. It’s almost unreal how naturally you slot around him, the way your fingers circle around its girth. The entire length, inch-by-inch, the pattern of his veins, the sensitive lip of his head– they’re all intimately familiar to you now. As is finding just the right grip, the right pace.

When you start to pump him in earnest, Astarion can't help but shudder, his movements losing their steady, pulsing beat. In losing his pace, he takes on a new one– erratic, a bit fumbling, but utterly intoxicating.

You're both stoking each other’s fires in tandem, wildly offset in your desperation to touch each other more and more and more. 

The water feels almost cool compared to your heated core, to the sweet friction you're building together.

Astarion's face tilts into your back, grunting as he strains to right his tempo– his forehead presses against you, his cool exhale grazes your searing skin. His chilled touch is a reprieve in the sweltering fog of steam and heady lust. Hearing your sigh of relief, he seems all too willing to make more contact.

His lips crash onto your back roughly, and his fangs nick your skin. An involuntary shiver runs through your body as you imagine the pleasure his drinking evokes from you. As you imagine the man behind you lapping at your neck, moaning in satisfaction, flushed pink with your very blood–

"Take some blood,” you offer, breathless. Imagining would never be enough, you find yourself craving the real deal. So when you say your next word, it comes out more pleading than you intend, “Please."

“Whatever my dearest desires,” Astarion replies, voice low and rumbling. He removes the hand from your chest and places it on your shoulder, holding you in place as he places his lips at the crook of your neck. His nose rubs gently against your fleshly washed skin. “Mmm, you smell so good.”

Then his fangs pierce you.

When you first began your relationship, you hadn’t intended to enjoy his bites as much as you do, but after years and years of them, the pain hardly registers now. All you feel is close– So very close to the man you would gladly give your lifeblood to.

He draws a gulp, and you feel the blood course through you, into him.

Another drink, and heat builds in you as you feel his cock grow harder in your hand, his veins more prominent.

A third long pull of your blood, and you feel his fingers quicken at your aching arousal.

You jerk into his hand in reaction, trying to seek an outlet for your pleasure. Your mouth emits a whimper– you hadn’t been comfortable whimpering with Astarion at first, but after he drew one out of you, he couldn’t get enough.

He still can’t, and you feel his lips curl into a smile at your neck, his fingers move with more urgency.

All the while you continue stroking his length, fingers sloppy in your own hazy state. It doesn’t seem like you need your usual dexterity though, because Astarion is practically writhing with newfound reactivity. Drinking blood always leaves him especially sensitive.

One last shaky swallow and he removes his fangs from your neck. But not his mouth. His tongue begins lavishing your puncture wound furiously as he struggles to hold back his approaching peak.

With the way he haphazardly tilts his hips into you, it’s all too evident to you that he’s reaching his limit. He’s not afraid to tell you so either.

"My sweet," he all but moans into your ear. "I–I can't last much longer. May I?"

You know what he means, and you honestly can’t last much longer either– you’re positively light-headed from a mixture of bliss and blood loss. So you stop your movements, nod your addled head at him.

He removes his hands from your core and neck, reaching out to your legs. Pulling them out and apart, he shuffles behind you, moving impatiently.

Realizing he can’t do this alone, he gestures, motioning for you to put your legs up.

Still a bit dizzy, you carefully place each leg on either side of the tub’s edges, hooking yourself in place by the ankles. It feels a precarious balance, but you can hardly care when you’re this eager to have Astarion inside you.

Astarion seems just as eager, rubbing his length against your ass hungrily as you get into position.

Perched and ready for him, the man is quick to help once more– his hands grip your asscheeks and lift in a swift movement. You’re particularly buoyant in the water, and you rise higher than either of you had expected. Your hand instinctively reaches out, gripping the edge of the tub to brace yourself, and you hear Astarion give a deep chuckle from behind you.

Holding back your own almost giddy excitement, you try to compose yourself for him. Angling your hips up, you’re almost floating on the water for a moment as Astarion lines the tip of his cock with your entrance.

However, you’re instinctively clenching a second later when a pair of your lover’s fingers tease at your opening. You barely avoid clamping your legs back together at the sensation. 

Recovering from the tickling probe, you look back to see a lust-drunk fanged smile, lips smeared with red. "Astarion, please,” you mutter. “I can't balance like this all day."

"Come darling, I know you’re quite talented," he taunts, easily gliding his fingers back in, curling until you truly do begin to lose balance.

"Astarion," you breathe out, clutching the side of the tub even harder to stay afloat.

Then his fingers slip back out, replaced a moment later by the head of his cock. “No need to worry, I have a seat for you right here.”

His palms cup your backside, his fingers squeeze, as you lower your hips back down, taking in his entire, slick length effortlessly in the water.

“Now isn’t that better?” he asks, grabbing your hips with one hand, the other finding yours on the side of the tub for support.

“Mmm,” is all that you manage, as you adjust to the sudden fullness. You haven’t lain with anyone else in so long, it’s hard to remember a cock other than his. Still, you can’t help but feel like he settles in you just right. Especially when you both slot together neatly, you taking him to the hilt.

Astarion drops another kiss on your back. “Comfortable?”

“Mhm,” you mumble. Now that you’re securely held in place by Astarion’s hips flush to yours, your legs hanging off the tub’s edges, you place your second hand back at your aching arousal. You begin to stroke yourself back into the same fervor Astarion had you in moments ago.

After a small, deliberate thrust of his hips, testing how you rise and fall in the water, Astarion starts moving against you. It’s slow at first, the water rippling out from you both in small waves. Then his hips rock back, only to drive back into you with sloshing force. 

“A–ahh!” Sweet hells, he knows exactly how to hit your most sensitive spot. You had already been so heated, but now, with your lover’s full, hardened length pressing into you? You feel dizzy with pleasure.

Years of lovemaking, and you’re still in awe of how well he knows your body. It’s more than his previous experiences culminating in some kind of skillful paramour. No, this was built through time, trial, error, effort.

So as this gorgeous man you call love bounces you up and down in his lap, you feel yourself coming undone. Your breaths come ragged as you ride his cock, water spilling out of the tub with each and every buck. Your fingers clench the tub, barely holding on as you feel your pleasure coil tighter and tighter.

Astarion places kiss after kiss down your back, and you hear him murmuring, "Gods you're perfect." A harder kiss. "You feel so good." Another thrust. "Each." A nip at your skin. "And every." A thrust. "Time." Another kiss. "I–I love you."

For your part, you’re finding entire sentences difficult. With the feel of him throbbing inside you, the way his lips feel along your back, each roll of his hips, you're truly only capable of a few phrases. "Astarion." A splashing bounce. "I love you–" A loll back of your head. "Oh hells–" A dip of your hips. "I love you too."

When your peak finally runs through you like a shockwave, when you clench around him in ecstasy, those very same words are still on your lips. "I l–love you."

He moans at the sudden tightness, the muscles that now hold him deep within you. "Darling," he breathes. "Oh love. I can't–"

Astarion means to say that he can't hold on much longer. He'd already been so close, holding back only to keep your pleasure going. So you reach down to his fingers on your hip, as best as you can while still hanging on for dear life, and squeeze his hand. A wordless affirmation, a plea to join you, as he always has.

And it’s that silent communication that has his fingers lacing through yours, his neck craning back, his hips stuttering.

When he comes, there's no pretense or performance. There hasn't been for many years. So when you look back at his face in a hazy fuzz of emotion, the expression you see is utterly unbridled.

It's a look of sheer pleasure– his perfectly pale skin flushed a light rosy color, his usually impeccable hair stuck to his face in a mixture of sweat and water. His eyes are shut, his mouth agape as he spills into you.

So enraptured are you by the mundane beauty of his climax, that you’ve strained too far from your precariously balanced position. Your foot unhooks from the tub’s slippery edge and you fall onto Astarion’s lap with a large splash as he finishes. You’re both left panting and wet in the wake of both your and the tub’s peaks.

Water drips down your face, all of the soap bottles have been knocked from the edge of the tub. The high you’d felt just moments ago feels doused in the stark reality of making love in a bathtub. 

However, when you feel Astarion’s breathy laughter on your back, feel his softening cock twitch with his last few thrusts, you know he’s still in fine spirits.

You stay together for a few moments as you both collect yourselves. Water is wiped from eyes, your second leg comes back into the tub, and several deep breaths are had. Once you’re relatively sorted, Astarion pulls himself out of you with a long, happy sigh.

The man falls back from you, sitting against the end of the tub in a tired flop. Then he’s patting the water in front of him, motioning you to join him in some post-coital cuddles.

You don’t need much more of an invitation.

Floating through the now much lower water, you stop just in front of him. Movements relaxed, you wrap your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck, and scoot into his waiting embrace.

"So," you start, looking at the wasteland of water and strewn soap bottles around the tub. "Looks like we made a mess."

"I told you we would," he says, closing his arms around you, pulling you against his chest.

"I know," you say, leaning into him comfortably. Your body is truly exhausted now, but your mind is a buzz of joy. "It was worth it though."

He laughs into your shoulder, squeezes you tighter. "Feeling better, I take it?"

"Gods yes," you say, tilting your head into his silver hair. "Thank you."

"Oh my sweet, it was my utmost pleasure," he replies, and you can feel his smile on your skin.

You both lean back, grinning at each other like fools. The smiles stay, even when your lips meet in a soft, wet kiss.

You will need to clean the room, the tub, likely your bodies once again– but all you can truly feel right now is content. Enjoying Astarion’s gentle fingers as they trace a pattern onto your skin, the warm water all around you, you very nearly forget that today was merely a day like any other.

The thousandth time you made love to Astarion, it was messy and wet and silly– somehow, it was sweet, caring, and loving all the same.

The thousandth time you made love to Astarion, you didn't know it was the thousandth time.

Just as you hadn't known your tenth thousand kiss, nor your hundred thousandth 'I love you.' Were anyone to ask you about them, you might not even remember the days or events surrounding any of them.

What you do know is that each individual moment holds no less importance, that the affection shared between you doesn’t diminish with each recurrence.

You’re unable to quantify your love, nor would you want to. All you really want is Astarion– his soft lips, tender hands, and whispered words of love– until your dying breath.

[perlelune]

Training Wheels | Coriolanus Snow | iii.

Your mother's macabre work never appealed to you as you always preferred the comfort of your books, but when her apprentice takes a special interest in you, your safe, quiet world is flipped upside down.

Warnings: DUB-CON, NON-CON, Gaul!Reader, Shy Reader, Manipulation, Parental Neglect, Drinking, Peer Pressure, Hazing, University set, Loss of Virginity, Dumbification, Insecurities, Abusive Relationship, Degradation, Suicide Attempt

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

“So what’s your deal?” Festus Creed asks out of the blue. 

Your mouth opens in shock, a nervous laugh slipping out. “My deal?”

A mocking sneer twists his features. “Yeah, Coriolanus kept trying to get you to eat with us but you were being weird about it. If you hate us, just say so.”

While some snigger at the table, Coriolanus stares daggers at him. The mirth instantly vanishes from Festus’ face.

Clemensia bumps her elbow into his rib, chiding him, “Festus, come on,”

“I don’t…hate anyone,” you defend, your voice hardly above a whisper.

Clemensia flashes you a reassuring smile.

“Of course, you don’t. Coriolanus said you’re very sweet.”

Livia rolls her eyes.

“Ugh, whatever. Can we get back to discussing the Yuletide Ball?”

Surprise flutters through you. The name bears vague familiarity. It can be found in the archives detailing the history of the Capitol University. But it’d since long become a frivolity amidst concerns such as quelling the uprisings in the Districts. What’s a students’ dance in the face of war and famine?

“The Yuletide Ball? I thought this was an abolished tradition…I mean since the war.”

Excitement illuminates Livia’s face.

“We’re bringing back the tradition this year, thanks to Coriolanus here. He convinced the new dean.”

Coriolanus lowers his head in apparent humbleness.

“I just made a few good points and he couldn’t refuse me,” he shares. He turns to you, blue eyes sparkling.  “I’m pretty persuasive when I need to be.” A chill dances through you at his low, suggestive tone. 

To your relief, his attention switches to the rest of the table.

“It’s important to not let District scum ruin our way of life. Traditions must return.”

Livia smirks. “Spoken like a student body president.”

Coriolanus waves a dismissive hand but a hint of smugness lingers in his tone as he says, “Please, elections are only in a month.”

“And it’s obvious you’ll win,” Clemensia states.

He gives a light shrug.

“We shall see.”

Clemensia pivots to you.

“Ivy, Liv and I are on the Ball committee,” she preens, her face brightening. “You could join us if you want.”

You lick your lips. “I don’t know if I’d find the time with midterms coming up soon…”

Coriolanus’ fingertips graze your arm as he offers, “You should do it, angel. It’d be a good way to expand your social circle.”

“You mean her nonexistent circle,” Festus gibes.

The blond’s jaw clenches.

“Talk to her like that again and see what happens, Creed.”

Festus cowers, nervousness flickering on his face. He clears his throat.

“Sorry,” he says to you.

“It’s fine.”

Coriolanus’ fingers latch around your wrist as his steely gaze cuts into Festus.

“No, it’s not fine,” he articulates. 

Undisturbed by the altercation between the boys, Clemensia prattles on about the ball.

“We meet up every Saturday morning. We’re working on winter-themed decorations right now. It’ll be so fun. It takes forever to do though.” She looks at you with emphasis. “An extra set of hands would be really welcome.”

“Clemensia…”

“Call me Clemmie,” she interrupts. “All my friends do.”

Friends? You study her hand clasped around yours. The concept is a little foreign to you. You also ponder why someone like Clemensia, with her perfect silky mane and smooth, blemish-free face would want to befriend you. She is the girl everyone gravitates towards. Charismatic, smart and nice to boot. And you might as well be a fly on a wall, ignored on the best days.

You are so stunned that it takes a shamefully long time for the words to fall back on your tongue.

“Clemmie, I’m usually busy on Saturday.”

“Oh.” She deflates, her hold on your hand loosening. “I get it. Sorry I asked.”

The excitement on her face plummets. Immediately, you feel terrible. You’ve never missed a single Saturday of studying, using that time to break down your more complicated courses of the week. But Clemmie looks crestfallen.

Perhaps, this one time, you can adjust your plans a little. One Saturday won’t make a difference in the entire year.

“But…I can try to free up some time,” you offer.

She perks up with your response.

“Great. We’ll be expecting you then.”

Lunch then proceeds, the table resuming the lively debate they were having before you showed up. Festus maintains facts about his family’s role in the reconstruction after the war while Clemensia rolls her eyes. They go back and forth and you observe them, slightly fascinated by the exchange. It’s such a rare occurrence for you to be around others that you soak every bit of their interaction. You get the inkling this happens a lot between them, them ruffling each other’s feathers. Ivy and Livia get wrapped in their own secret conversation you don’t catch a single word of. Meanwhile, Coriolanus watches all of them, taking a bite of the food on his plate every once in a while. The way he eats is slow, nonchalant, almost like he couldn’t care less what’s on his plate. Even if he doesn’t interject at any point, he looks right at home at this table. Unlike you. You recline into silence, letting every minute fly by as you wait for lunch to be over. When it finally is, relief surges inside you. 

You mumble a quick goodbye and gather your things. Clemensia beams and waves at you while the others barely acknowledge your departure. 

You head for the hallways, trying not to allow your mind to linger on the strange, uncomfortable lunch. Still, your mind swirls. You curse yourself for every blunder and awkward moment. You told him you don’t belong, that you’re an outsider, and always will be. It’s painfully obvious. From the way you dress, talk, carry yourself, you have nothing in common with girls like Clemensia or Livia. There’s a vast chasm between you and them. He should have listened. It astounds you that you even let yourself get roped into joining Clemensia’s committee thing. Though perhaps that won’t be too much of a hassle. You’ll show up to keep your word, then sink back into your rigid study routine.

Coriolanus’ deep voice, a sound you’re now oddly familiar with, erupts behind you.

“Let me carry those for you,” he says, swiping the books in your arms before you can protest. He falls in pace with you, a gentle expression decorating his  handsome face.

You frown, the uncanny emptiness of your arms swelling your discomfort.

“You don’t have to-”

“I insist,” he interrupts, chuckling lightly when you try to reach for your books and he dodges you with ease. Your shoulders sag. Your strides hasten, an urgency limning your steps now. 

Coriolanus meets no issue with your escalating cadence. He easily keeps up with you, a subtle hint of mirth lurking in his cobalt gaze. 

“It wasn’t too much, was it?” he inquires. “I know they can be a lot but they’re all good people. I promise.”

A myriad of words weigh heavy on your tongue but you diplomatically swallow each, settling for a safe, innocuous remark.

“Clemmie was nice.”

The corners of the blond’s lips quirk skyward. 

“I told you she was.”

The statement hovers between the two of you for a while. Clemensia seems nice indeed. The rest of his friend group…perhaps a little less so. Possibly a bit more cutthroat and self-absorbed. Though you surmise it is a requirement to be a member of Panem’s elite.

No other word is traded between you and him as you make your way to the lecture hall. 

“This is me,” you announce.

You turn to Coriolanus, hands stretching towards your books. He makes no move to give them back. Your forehead creases.

He gives you a sluggish once-over before offering, “What if I drove you back home after your classes?”

You nibble your bottom lip, dismayed by his proposition. You’ve caught glimpses of his fancy new car, as you’re sure most have at the University. As heir apparent to the Plinth fortune, he gets to spend money as he likes. 

“I usually walk. It’s okay.” 

He gets a little closer. “Come on, angel. Just let me do something nice for you.”

You shrink until your back hits the wall, stunned when Coriolanus follows each of your steps.

“My last lecture is…Professor Bellweather tends to ramble,” you mumble, his proximity unnerving you. “I don’t…I don’t know when he’ll be done.”

He licks his lips.

“I’ll just wait for you, angel.”

He utters the words like it’s obvious. You gawk at him. It takes you a few minutes to retrieve your speech.

You scratch your arm, your frown accentuating.

“You really don’t have to. Like I said, walking home is fine.”

The gaze trained on your form sharpens.

“And I’m offering to take you home so you don’t have to exert yourself.” He bends over you, invading the already insufficient space between the two of you. “Has a friend never done something like that for you?”

“N-No,” you admit. 

His tone’s heavy with suggestion as he rasps, “So let me be your first then, angel.”

Your heart stumbles inside your chest. 

“I’m gonna be late for class,” you blurt out, attempting to brush past him. 

Coriolanus’ hand darts out, swiftly cinching around your wrist to stop you from leaving.

“I still don’t have an answer,” Coriolanus says.

You glance from his hand, tight around your wrist, to his determined gaze. Your throat goes dry.

“Okay, you can d-drive me back home.”

He releases your wrist and returns your books, a smile ghosting over his lips.

“Wonderful. I’ll come get you later, angel.”

Clutching your books against your chest, you watch him glide away.

As promised, Coriolanus is waiting for you when you exit from your last class. You don’t even think to hide your shock as you find the blond leaning against the wall. A smirk unfans on his lips, your reaction seeming to amuse him.

He doesn’t say much to you as you walk side by side and head to his car. When you’re outside, he surprises you by opening the passenger door for you before you can even lift a hand. 

“T-Thanks,” you stammer. You plop down on the plush seat. The leather smells new and expensive.

Your nerves thrum as he takes the driver’s seat and starts the car. You’ve never been alone in a car with a boy before. Uneasy, you let your eyes roam outside the window. The Capitol’s high buildings blur past you rapidly. 

You’re lost in your thoughts when you notice the prickling sensation over your flesh, The burning, unwavering weight of Coriolanus Snow’s scrutiny. 

Your head whirls.

Bashful words quake through your lips.

“Do I have something on my face?” Your hands reach to touch it, just in case.

He chuckles.

“No,” he replies, shrugging. “It’s a nice face that’s all.”

The casual compliment sends a wave of heat through your body. 

“Can you drive?” he asks, curiosity lighting his features.

You shake your head. Getting your license has never been a priority. Besides, it’s only a thirty minute walk to get to the University. You don’t mind it, often using that time to sneak in some reading.

“No.”

“I could drive you if you like,” he offers, his gaze holding yours. “Anywhere you want to go.”

Your cheeks warm. “I’m okay.”

Coriolanus nods, his focus shifting back to the road.

“You always say that…” He hums low in his throat. “I’m just not sure I believe it, angel.”

You’re so nervous the entire drive that you don’t even notice when he arrives at your house. You stare at him, mouth agape. You haven’t given him a single instruction on how to get there.

“You know where I live?”

As he opens the door for you, Coriolanus simply replies, “You told me earlier.”

Your brows furrow. You don’t remember telling him but his tone harbors no doubt. You rummage through your brain, seeking the moment. Nothing comes up and you grow confused. 

You blink up at him.

“I-I did?”

“Yes, you did, angel.” He snorts as if your line of questioning is beyond ludicrous. “How else would I know?” He slams the door of the car as you rise. “Besides…Dr. Gaul is my mentor. Of course, I know where she lives.”

You nod. That makes sense and it didn’t even occur to you.

“I…”

He cocks his head. “What?”

You fidget beneath his stare, discomfort flaring in the pit of your stomach. 

“Nothing. Thanks for driving me home.”

He flashes you a wide smile.

“My pleasure. See you soon, angel.”

He starts the car and drives away. You don’t feel quite at ease until his car’s gone from view, heading towards the Corso.

Walter zooms across the room as soon as you enter the large apartment. Your eyes wander about. As usual, the place is empty besides you and Walter. Mother rarely spends any time here nowadays, her work occupying all of her time. 

Walter rubs his furry head against your ankle, twirling around you as he meows. He then stands on his hind legs and starts gently raking his claws across your leg. A way for him to demand that you pet him. A small smile tugging your lips, you pick him up. The orange ball of fur purrs, curling against your chest as you carry him in your arms. You make your way to the kitchen and pour a mix of leftover meat and fish in his bowl. 

You set him down on the floor. His tail wiggles as he hops to his food.

You crouch next to him.

“You wouldn’t believe what happened today, Walter,” you say while giving gentle pets to his back. “I was invited to their table.” The orange cat pauses his eating to stare up at you blankly. “Yes. Theirs,” you repeat as if he could understand you. He gives a long meow before focusing on his bowl again. You sigh. “I know. I thought the same thing.”

Once Walter’s emptied his bowl, you pick him up again and make your way to the living room. 

You collapse on the couch.

“And then…Coriolanus Snow drove me home. Yes, the Coriolanus Snow. I didn’t even think he knew I existed.”

For a while, you remain on the couch, stroking Walter’s fur as he sits on your lap. His tail whips the air, his eyes closing as you pet him. His soft rumble of content reverberates against your belly, amplifying when your fingers drag behind his pointed white ears. You lean back, a blanket of peace settling over you. 

Walter’s not just a strange-looking cat, he’s also a rescue…from your mother’s experiments. A kitten mutt with mismatched eyes, one blue and one yellow, his mushed, wrinkled face gives him a passing resemblance to a rodent. Pets like him are a rarity in today’s world as most creatures such as him were eaten during the First Rebellion. 

Your mother finds him appalling. In her eyes, he is a failed experiment. Like you. Perhaps it’s why you have such kinship with the creature. You still recall her unsettling glance in your direction the day she asked the entire class of nine-year-olds at the Academy if they had pets they were sick of. She then proceeded to burn the flesh off a lab rat to demonstrate her pulsed energy laser.

This moment is burned into your mind forever, your mother’s clinical tone chilling your blood.

You stole Walter from the Citadel and took him home that same day.

You were careful to hide him, though you suspect your mother figured out what you did. She likely added it to her long list of disappointments when it comes to you.

Sometimes, you envy Walter. The simplicity his days hinge upon. His obliviousness to the woes of the world. His uncanny ability to sleep through the chaos of it, ignore the disarray. Walter’s world consists of food, play and cuddles. 

What a blissful existence. You bet Walter never had a vexing thought in his short life.

The train of your thoughts is interrupted by the shrill ringing of the phone.

You carefully remove Walter from your lap. He meows in protest and jumps off the couch. You pick up the phone, chest clenching as a familiar face fills the flickering screen.

“Mother,” you greet. “How are you?”

She ignores your question, curtly stating, “You’re falling behind in Molecular Cell Biology.”

You know that tone all too well, the warning laced within it so achingly familiar.

Your fingers twist around the phone cord, your voice becoming small.

“I’ll get my grades up, I promise.”

Silence hovers between you and your mother for a while. Faint hope sparks within you. Perking up, you decide to tell her about your day.

“Oh, mother, today-”

“I must go,” she interrupts. “It’s time for my milk and cookies.”

Your spirits plummet. You nudge a hollow smile onto your face.

“Right. I didn’t realize,” you say, checking the clock hanging on the wall. “I’m sorry.”

She heaves out a deep sigh, her lone blue eye narrowing.

“Focus on your studies. And try not to be even more of an embarrassment to me than you already are.”

“Y-Yes, mother,” you reply, your heart shriveling inside your chest.

As she hangs up, you feel silly and horrible. Silly for trying to strike up a normal conversation with your mother. And horrible for letting her down once more.

“You came!” Clemensia exclaims as she rushes to you. You try not to tense as she gives you a tight hug. Ivy and Livia linger in the background, their eyes lifting from the crafts’ table. 

You wave at them and are surprised when Ivy wiggles her fingers at you. Livia is more withdrawn, nodding to acknowledge your presence but quickly returning to her task.

You step out of Clemensia’s embrace and flash a quick smile.

“Well I promised you that I would,” you reply nonchalantly. You take a look around the room. Various decorations and posters are propped against the walls, while snowflakes cut-outs and what looks like moon dust are scattered on the table. It seems the girls have been busy.

You turn to Clemensia. “What’s the theme again?” 

Ivy surprises you by answering cheerfully, “Well, it’ll be like a Winter daydream and we were thinking of making it a masquerade.”

Excitement sways in Clemensia’s bright eyes. “What do you think?”

“Sounds nice.” Your trite answer draws every gaze in the room to you. Awkwardly bouncing on your feet, you correct yourself, beaming at Clemensia. “I meant amazing.”

“I think so too,” she chimes.

She shows you the empty chair next to hers. The both of you sit down and she starts rambling about the theme and all the ideas she has to decorate the ballroom. You grow dizzy with all the information, trying to follow along her instructions at the same time. 

“We’ll need to find you a date,” Clemensia says. 

You shake the can of blue paint before spraying over the tree cut-out.

“It’s okay. I probably won’t be going anyway,” you respond absently. 

The pencil in Livia’s hand snaps. Your head rises. The blonde’s gaping at you. You then realize…the same look of disbelief is etched on all the girls’ features. A frown mars your brow. Did you say something wrong? You didn’t realize this was such an important event. 

A nervous laugh peals off Clemensia’s red-painted lips.

“No, but you have to,” she says, “It’s the first Yuletide Ball in over a decade. Everyone will be there.”

You shrug. “It’s four months away, Clemmie.”

Her onyx gaze shimmers.

“Well, a lot can happen in four months,” she sings, a mysterious smile spreading onto her lips.

[plutolovesyou]

i have this stupid idea in my head and it won't leave- ugh ok imagine this. y'know how in those rom-coms there's a moment where the main characters partner will throw rocks at the mc's window to get their attention. and then crawl inside the mc's room after almost dying climbing up by the nearby tree, scaling the roof tiles and almost tripping. i can't unsee some type of modern!ellie doing exactly that.... imagine her cutie self scurrying around your yard to find little tiny pebbles that won't scratch the glass and pelting them, all you hear is clink, clink, clink. then you open your window like "girl what??" and she stares up at you on the second floor asking if you two can chat, "please lemme in?" such a cutie. IMAGINE SHE BRINGS HER GUITAR TO SERENADE YOU AS WELL. oh gosh and then climbing up. you wouldn't even be able to watch, lest she slips and splats on the ground. and she almost does, being adorably klutzy, fingers slipping as she hoists herself up the branches, then balances across your roof and almost dies once more. and she makes it yayyy!! you cannot resist opening the window to let her in, partly because she's so silly, and partly because you didn't want her to slip and die leaving. however!! it is also nighttime and y'all gotta be quiet, whatever it is you may be doing once she's successfully made the journey. DO I WRITE THIS FR??? months ago i used to write these little ideas and never take them anywhere but i dunno....maybe i'll twist something outta this one eventually, unlike the other few oops. but like i really do love this idea- just might make something with it one day we shall see heheh...

edit: i wrote it here you go

[tragedy-of-commons]

no pickles

stellaron hunters & gn!reader | wc: ~750

In which they get your order wrong. Kafka, dear friend that she is, decides to make it known.

tags/warnings: crack, reader is not described, vague canon-typical violence, comedy, found family, everything is platonic

notes: oops updated formatting

When you first joined the Stellaron Hunters upon Elio’s suggestion (death threat), you never would have imagined the scene unfolding in front of you now.

Silver Wolf is double-dipping a greasy french fry into a dollop of ketchup. Kafka is dabbing her mouth with a napkin after her only sip of whatever soda she decided to humor, and Blade is standing guard by your table like some kind of intimidating fast-food sentry.

You, squished between all of them, lament your existence. Sam got to stay behind to “keep watch”, but you know the truth. His robot suit would terrify any children within a fifty mile radius, and this CosmiBurger is teeming with them. 

“Silver Wolf,” you mutter.

“I’m not sharing,” she answers immediately.

“That’s not what I–! Ugh, whatever. I was gonna ask why you chose this place for lunch. Don’t you think it’s a little below our pay grade?” “We don’t get paid, newbie. Elio doesn’t cover us eating out, so we have to be cheap.”

“You’re just saying that because you blew our budget on Roblox Premium,” you deadpan.

Kafka interjects. “Look on the bright side, hm? The novelty here is something we rarely get to experience - and I don’t think I’ve ever seen Bladie this happy.”

You spare a glance at your colleague. His scowl speaks for him.

Ignoring the fact that apparently Kafka’s got jokes now, you heave a sigh and poke at the lump of foil in front of you - a tangible warning of an impending stomach ache. The burger inside will have to serve as sustenance if you don’t want to wait twelve more system hours to eat.

Since Silver Wolf is now preoccupied with one of her handheld consoles, you don’t delay with your squabbling any longer. When you unwrap it and take your first bite, you’re blindsided by the overwhelming sour note of what can only be The Condiment That Shall Not Be Named. You can’t obscure the subsequent (ugly) scrunch of your brow and lips.

“Cyanide?” asks The Gamer That You Will Strangle One Day.

You glare at her and deposit your now even-more-unappetizing sandwich on the table. “You wish. They, uh, just got my order a bit wrong.” There’s a contemplative hum from your side that makes your heart skip a beat. Kafka stops playing with a strand of Blade’s hair to give you a coy smile. “Is that so?”

“Don’t look at me like that,” you complain. “It’s not a big deal, I’m just not a fan of pickles.”

“You should ask for a replacement. After all, you did mention that in your order,” she drawls.

You bristle. “I doubt the employees get paid enough to put up with that.”

Blade speaks for the first time today in that gruff tone of his. “You draw the line there? You’ll slaughter on command but stop at inconveniencing the working class?”

“Everyone’s picking on me! Smear campaign!” you accuse, pointing at the brooding man.

You don’t expect a reply from him, which he honors by staring at your outstretched finger with what could be described as murderous intent. Kafka chuckles.

“It’s the principle of the thing, darling. I’ll handle it.”

“Wai–”

You don’t get another word out before she confidently rises from her seat and saunters over to the register, leaving you with your jaw on the floor. 

Silver Wolf is back to blowing bubblegum and spawn-killing some poor sap, but she makes the time to snicker at your plight. “That’s weak, newbie.”

All you can do is become an idle passenger in your own body as the scene unfolds in front of you. Maybe you try to stop her, but Blade’s lanky arm blocks your path. 

Sometimes you wish she’d just have a little more fear. Kafka converses with the cashier with her innate allure as you resign yourself to your fate of public humiliation.

The words audible over the ringing in your ears sound through the air in Kafka’s dulcet voice.  “They asked for no pickles.”

When she returns from the counter two minutes later with your presumably correct order, you’ve already decided that today has been the most harrowing twenty-four system hours of your long-life. Your stupor is cut short as the new pickleless burger is dropped into your hands like a gift from the Aeons.

“See?” Kafka teases. “It was no trouble at all.”

“..Thanks,” you cough into your hand awkwardly.

Lunch resumes its usual flow, but you’re still stewing in regret that boils down to a simple, bitter thought: You should’ve just ordered the chicken nuggets instead.

[alyakthedorklord]

Welcome to Danny’s Part 2

People have been asking for more of this ^^ so here you go, have a really long word vomit of stuff i think is funny

(IM NOT WRITING THIS FIC GDI I HAVE ENOUGH WIP’S!)

Danny’s restaurant is ALSO manned by-

Tucker, who will fix your tech for free, has tattoos of hieroglyphics and lines of code that shift around when he gets busy.

Sam, who makes an express line for veggie orders. If you try to order meat from sam all the potted plants start trembling.

Jazz, who has a special booth in the back and Magically makes people dump their deepest secrets to her in streamlined Liminal Powers Therapy. (It’s a bit weird but hey the people she targets feel better so whatevs.)

Dani, who shares pictures from tourist traps she's visited, though there’s also some REALLY WEIRD pics of alternate realities and cult shenanigans mixed in. Some of the older patrons are concerned. She’s a little too young to do all this alone- actually, how old is she? Her father looks like he’s in his early twenties…

Dan, who is working here while “on parole” and often loudly argues with Danny about it.

“I don’t want to work in your stupid shop, Dad!”

Dan is two whole feet taller than danny and three times as wide i will not be taking constructive criticism. He’s a whole silver fox. There are some ladies who have a crush on him and they’re really concerned if he’s legal bc danny is younger than them how is Dan his child-

“Dan, how old are you?”

“I don’t know, like, a hundred sixty something?”

(Lady turns to look at Danny, who shrugs and smiles.) “time dilation. What a world we live in. Dan, kiddo, can you get some more napkins from the back?”

“Ugh, fine, dad.”

The first villain Danny ACTUALLY fights isn’t the Joker. It’s Condiment King. Dan runs away from him, which is already weird bc guy is MASSIVE, and the condiment king chases him bc YES SOMEONE FINALLY FEARS HIM PROPERLY.

Danny bursts out of the shop in righteous fatherly fury and beats the snot out of him. Everyones is confused bc… what? Dan is massive? Why is he scared? Why is the twink beating the snot out of condiment king?

“Dan had a traumatic experience with Burger Sauce.” Danny explains, glaring down at the rouge at his feet. He kicks him, growls, “Don’t mess with my kid.” And walks back inside.

No one asks, bc this is gotham. Asking is rude, and also it lessens the Mystery that is Danny’s. No one knows how the kids came into existence. No one knows, before someone from out of town (metropolis, ugh) asks about the sign.

The sign outside the shop says:

Welcome to Danny’s!

Do no harm and no harm shall befall you.

Start nothing and nothing will be ended.

We have baseball bats and fists and a mean swing.

This establishment does not serve- guys in white (suits), Vlad, Transphobes, Vlad, Clowns, VLAD.

Do not ask for the secret menu. If you can get it, Danny will offer it.

(Don’t scare the other customers, please.)

When asked who Vlad is, bc he’s banned three times, Danny just kind of sighs.

“He’s my kid's other parent. He’s an obsessive creep who completely ignores Danielle because she’s a girl, rolling in money but won’t pay his child support. You know how it is.”

Several goons ask what he looks like so they can keep an eye out. Dani happily tells them “look at Dan, take away Dad’s features, then convert 30% of his height and weight into smarminess.”

It's an effective description. Vlad gets full body tackled the moment he enters the neighborhood. Danny gives the goons free fudge (family recipe, one of the restaurants signatures)

One of the reasons Danny’s is so popular is bc its open 24/7. (Unless its one of those weird times where all the doors are locked and if you look through the window blinds theres nothing but a starry void.) One of the reasons Danny’s is so weird is bc Danny is ALWAYS behind the counter. Always. Round the clock. He doesn’t sleep, eat, anything. Some people swear he has a twin he swaps out with (clones).

Sometimes, after a really difficult customer, Danny will let out a really long sigh and mutter “time out” before glitching into a new position, with a new shirt and combed hair. No one mentions it.

Theres a deal that’s just, “beat danny in a fight you eat for free.”

The deal extends to both Dan and Dani as well. Even if you lose you get fudge as a reward for courage.

No one ever wins.

One time, a couple brought their kid, recently discharged from the hospital. Danny comes over to them and grins. “Hey, kiddo! Bet you gave your parents a scare, huh? Pulled through in the end. That means you get the secret menu!”

Parents: hey wtf?

Danny, handing over a perfectly normal menu: 😀

Kid: “ooh mommy look at the glowy stars!”

Parents: !?!?!?

Danny: 😁

Old man Dave, whose heart has stopped like three times now: “Oh don’t worry about that, prices are the same and it will help your kid feel much better. Danny’s just a little weird.”

After all, it’s not just full ghosts that get the menu. If you’ve been dead, heart stopped, soul out of body before being popped back into place, then you get it. There’s actually a pretty high number of people who get it, bc this is Gotham. People get resuscitated after rogue attacks. The ecto actually helps stabilize their soul after getting jerked between life and death so rudely.

The secret menu that they’re given is just a normal menu, scribbled over top with an ecto pen, invisible to non-secret menu havers. Different “ecto-levels” to choose from, and three extra dishes. There’s also instructions to get into the “back room” for those who can’t go intangible, though it comes with a disclaimer “not for the faint of heart.”

There’s also a small note at the bottom- “do not share food.”

Anyways, as per original post. Tim herds Joker into Danny’s radar bc he Cannot Deal Right Now. He salutes Danny, who waves back, grinning like he didn’t just come at the Clown Prince of Crime like a feral badger on crack cocaine. “Heya, Red Robin! You want a coffee?”

“Please.” Tim sighs. “You’re the best, Danny.”

Jason looks between tim and the shop danny just vanished into. “Uh, what?”

“Danny doesn’t like clowns.” Tim explains. “Or condiment king. They get close, Danny takes them out.”

Jason is incredibly confused, bc he just came back from an out of town mission, but this place is right on the edge of his territory and he should definitely know about it. He asks tim, who just shrugs.

“That shop is weird. It’s like a grocery store at 3am. I stumbled in there after a rough night and Danny just whipped me up the best coffee i've ever had. Still can’t find their website. I swear it’s bigger on the inside and the door keeps swapping from one side of that fire hydrant to the other.”

Danny comes out and passes Tim a massive coffee cup. “Come back and talk shop with tucker, okay? You’re welcome any time. Both of you, actually.”

He gives Jason a weird look and then goes back inside.

Jason, who is a little concerned that the reverence tim has is more than his average weird worship of coffee (it's just that good) goes back the next day in civvies.

He gets offered the secret menu, danny does the eye thing, Jason retreats to look at the secret menu. Unsure of what just happened, he texts tim.

Jason: Why was i given a “secret menu”

Tim: WTF WHAT DID YOU DO TO GET THAT

Jason: IDK THATS WHY IM TEXTING YOU

tim: I'VE BEEN GOING FOR MONTHS I’M A LOYAL PATRON WHAT DO YOU HAVE THAT I DONT

Jason: the secret menu apparently (image)

Tim: …thats just the normal menu???

Jason: no? It looks like a kid went ham with a neon green marker tf?

Duke: you know this is the family chat right?

Steph: order the waffles

Jason: you order the waffles. Wtf is an ecto-level.

Jason asks for what danny recommends, Danny immediately gives him a milkshake and tells him it's on the house bc he “looks rough.”

Jason is kind if offended, bc he actually got a decent sleep- but then he tries it and its like.

Oh.

Now. Between the stink Tim is making, and the sudden worship that Jason has of this shops milkshakes, the BatFamily is now Curious and will Investigate.

Are the milkshakes really that good?

The full force of the Wayne Family™ isn’t exactly subtle, so they go in twos and threes over the course of a week.

Damian gets offered the secret menu, and is also directed towards Sam’s express vegetarian line. Danny just Knew. Damian accuses Tim and/or Jason of pulling a prank on him, but they both swear up and down they didn’t say anything.

Both Steph (i think? Did she fake her death or actually die idk) and Cass get the secret menu, and they keep trying to ask Tim what certain things on the menu mean. Tim Cannot See what they’re talking about. He’s starting to get frustrated. Is it some sort of magic spell?

Tim takes Kon to Danny’s. (Is it a date? A test date on a low-stakes investigation? Maybe.) Danny, who is really starting to enjoy messing with Tim, gleefully offers Kon the secret menu, and Tim the normal one. Tim bangs his head on the table.

Dick doesn’t get a secret menu, but he does notice a couple disappear through the wall. He’s almost certain he’s seen them before, but it will be a while before he remembers Kitty and Johnny from his early Robin Days.

Duke is also not offered a secret menu, but he can see the writing anyways. He can also see that some of the patrons have weird auras, and what on EARTH is up with Danny himself? He tries to ignore it, up until Steph gets him to order one of the specials off Cass’s (secret) menu. And Danny just kind of sharpens, the air going cold.

“I didn’t give you that menu. Just because you can read it, doesn’t mean you want it. Order off the right menu, please.”

Duke, freaked the hell out by the Biblically Accurate Horror that Danny is shifting into, orders off the right menu and apologizes.

“Oh, it’s alright!” Danny flips back to cheerful in seconds. “It’s just that it wouldn’t be completely healthy for you to eat it, even if you are part immortal.”

Duke bluescreens.

Alright, somethings definitely going on.

Tim and Jason both order the same thing- an oreo milkshake, one off the secret menu, one off the normal menu. Jason confirms the one from the normal menu does not taste the same and isn’t as good. Tim cannot confirm the other way around, because Jason nearly punches him when he attempts to taste it.

They take samples home, analyze them, and go over anecdotes from other patrons, trying to figure out what makes Danny’s so weird. What makes Kon, Cass, Jason, and Damian different?

Wait a second. Kon, Cass, Jason, Damian. The ones that died and came back to life.

It’s around this time that Dick remembers where he’s seen Kitty and Johnny before. Lovers from two houses, both alike in (in)dignity, had a romeo-and-juliet-esque escapade across Gotham, ending in high speed chase with Kitty’s gangster father and a fatal motorcycle accident. Both are dead. Both are in Danny’s.

Danny’s has something to do with death.

Having heard a couple stories about food of the dead, they notify Bruce (who is very concerned as to what exactly his children have been putting in their mouths) and then call in the magic users of the justice league.

It’s a mess. Dan calls Constantine a whore. Deadman and Secret (i think thats Tim’s ghost friend?) get abducted to the backroom. Dani clocks Capt. Marvel as another kid who looks older than he actually is, with magic powers, and his showing him her REALLY interesting travel photos. Zatanna is like “this place needs an exorcism” and danny just goes “ma’am please don’t exorcize my customers.”

Tag list (if you saw me attempt this before no you didn’t)

@nappinginhell @apointlessbox @thegatorsgoose @chaos-n-kindness @mimilikey @phoenixdemonqueen @treepainting @sjrose1216 @akikkobara @malice-of-the-sunrise @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @randomkiddoscrewingaround @call-me-strega @blankliferain @somera-rubina @wordsgohere95 @rukiaai @mirellacoco @stargazing-bookwyrm @bathildaburp @littlefeather345

[elliesstrapon]

Swan princess

!Asshole Ellie Williams x Princess Reader ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

✧˚ · . Summary: Your parents had you to be wedded by the time you each turned 20, they had you meet every summer until then, but you just couldn't stand her.

✧˚ · . Warnings: Ellie is a douch bag, rough sex, enemies to lovers, slow burn, erranged marriage, drinking, swearing, oral, over stimulation, eventual genuine wedding, Soulmates, Ellie hates you up until your both adults, major flashback, readers bipolar but i feel like this was me projecting, sorry 😭, NOT proofread.

I need all you to know this is pretty fucking long, feel free to take your time or skip <3

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Your first summer out of the castle when you'd turned 5. Your father held onto your hand reassuringly, pointing out at all the wonderful things you had yet to experience. His words you so vividly remembered along the lines of, "one day, this will all be yours to take care of" so sadly, the frown on his face one of the worst parts from those core memories. The rays of light hit your pearl pink dress, the sparkles shifting as you rode on the horse through what now had been the forest. "Papa, where are we going?" Your head turned back up to look at him, a cheerful smile upon your lips, your teeth crooked and white. "We, my dear daughter, are going to meet the one you shall marry one day." His eyes focused on the muddy path way, as you held onto your perfect dress so tightly in fear of it getting ruined by nature's mishaps. The memory had stopped, where what begun was the hatred between you and Ellie Williams.

For you remembered the look on her face when she'd met you. Your father pushed you towards the tall man with the girl behind him, urging you to say hello. The man'd done the same, an overjoyed toothy grin flashing on his face. "Who might this lovely young lady be?" Your dad inquired, just as happy as the man infront of you, "young princess Ellie, no doubt " He urged you again. You furrowed your brows at him angrily, taking the slightest step forward to the taller little girl who stood infront of you. "I'm Y/n" You gritted through your teeth, biting your bottom lip upsettingly, curtseying at everyone disposal. "It's a pleasure to meet you." You finished, a fake smile plastered on your face, pleading eyes for your father to take you back home. Ellie eyed you disgustingly, uninterested rolling her eyes back, the taller man pushing her forward closer. "Go on" he said angrily. "Joel!" She yelped. "Ellie." He eyed her. She scoffed, her attitude already unbearable. "It's a pleasure to meet your acquaintance.. Princess Y/n.... Ellie" she said poorly, introducing herself, her pinky finger digging in her ear, eyeing at it like it was all she had left to do. She turned back before the man flipped her around, roughly shoving her closer, his patience limited now. She sighed, going back to grab your hand, gently, something you hadn't expected from her insignificantly terrible mannerisms, her finger tips soft, she kissed the back of your hand, your heart had fluttered, from what you remembered, only for a slight second before she pulled away, sticking her tongue out and wiping her mouth, "Ugh, gross!" She cried. You rolled your eyes, the moment of whatever romance that'd be destined to start, passing like the speed of light.

The two of you stood there, your father's smiling at the "perfect match." all you could think about was how unpleasant she was, how she wouldn't understand you, how you absolutely despised her existence. The summer growing to be what you thought was the worst of your life span, the constant bickering and her heavy insults. You ran through the halls of her castle. Joel and your father having not understood nor notice the two of you constantly at eachothers throats. Your dress getting caught in the doors, and tripping over your slippers when she'd attacked you. "You're such a goody-two shoes!" She argued, your cheeks burning red from the running. "Shut it, Ellie" you spit at her. Your dress torn at the hem and your pink slippers stained with shoe marks on them from tripping over your feet. The rest of the summer lasted the exact same, every little thing she said annoying you, and every action you took, she wanted to intervene.

Soon enough more winters and summers went by before you were 12, hiding at the top of the tower, in your room dreading this summer. "Y/n! We can't keep Princess Ellie waiting any longer!" Your father called from the carriage at the bottom of the castle. "Ugh, please, she's barley even a princess!" You shouted angrily, eyeing him from the window, your hair tied into a braid and your nightgown hadn't changed. "I haven't even washed my hair nor changed"you gestured to your hair and clothes. "Gives you all the more reason to hurry" you heard the grin in his voice, causing you to smile the slightest. You redid your braid, finishing it off with a blue ribbon at the end, and quickly slipping on one of you're too many owned dresses. You pranced through the long historic hallways, waving small goodbyes to the servants who'd helped around the castle, leaving out the door to the garden. "Are you ready to leave?" Your father asked. "Yes" you sighed sadly, having to see Ellie again making you feel as if the world were ending. "I don't get why you dislike her so much, she's really such a lovely young lady." He frowned, entering the carriage with you. "Sure, if lovelys the word you wanna use." You groaned, "half the time the only thing she's doing is jumping at me every chance she gets to make my life horrible." Your dad smiled at you, saying you were over doing it. The ride to the neighboring kingdom was joyful, the sound of your laughter echoing through the windows. Once you'd arrived, you'd seen Ellie once more, no better than the previous summers, still as horrid as you remembered. "Hello, princess" she rolled her eyes, whispering into the ear of another girl beside her, it so clearly about you. "Princess Ellie." You gritted. "And who's this?" Your father smiled, Ellie's attitude being replaced with the innocent act she'd always put up to make you seem as if the bad guy. "This, is the friend I made last winter" she grinned. "Dina" she introduced her. You nervously waved at her, not earning much in return but a dirty look from Ellie, you clutched your dress, suddenly feeling very self conscious. "Well, what're we waitin' for? Les go!" Joel said with his thick accent, following him back to the all too familiar grand castle, lifting your dress as you walked over the muddy ground. You followed Ellie around the rest of the day, the two girls continuesly looking back at you as you acted like a dog, scolded if you sat out in the permanent room you had here during the summer. The sun reflected your shadows ever so often, "does she have to follow us around?" Dina turned around suddenly, weirdly annoyed with your presence, her red dress swaying with her hips as she turned. Ellie looked back, her ill-fitted dress steady as her shoes stepped on the hems. Tearing it like colored paper. "I wish she didn't, it's a shame I have to marry her" she said angrily, grabbing Dina's hand, pulling her along to show her the tree house that was supposedly in the field behind the castle, whispering about it as if you couldn't hear them.

You followed them to the tree house, far behind, you almost didn't wanna go into the tree house, till you saw it, it hadn't been there last summer. You ran softly on the grass, attempting to catch up to the girls, finally getting to the ladder, it began to float up, realizing the girl with a dark haired messy ponytail was pulling it up. She darted her eyes at you. "Snowflakes aren't allowed up in this treehouse" she said distinctively. "Oh, fuck you!" You yelled. Giving them the finger you walked off annoyed. "What's her problem?" Dina raised her brow at Ellie, "Dunno, she's like short tempered or whatever" Ellie chuckled, watching you storm off.

When you turned 17, you had your first royal ball, "Ellie!" You called, walking to her room at the very end of the hallway on the very last floor of the castle, you turned the door knob, opening the door aggressively to see her in her loose dress as it'd always been, practicing her archery on an ill drawing of you from when you were 10. "Oh, real mature" you said angrily. "Yeah whatever." She stuck her tongue out at you, you walked towards the target of you, your blue and fancy ruffley dress following closely behind you as your heels clicked hollowly against the old floors of the castle. Your hair effortlessly soft. You ripped it off the wall. "Hey!! What the hell's your problem?!" She spat. "You're a fucking child is my problem." You rolled your eyes tearing it. "What do you even want?" She got up angrily. "The ball" you muttered. "That's tonight?" She gasped. "Yes, everyone knew that" you fixed the straps of her dress unconciously, her breath hitched, suddenly flinching your hand away "get out, I'll fix it myself, I wasn't even gonna wear this" she muttered. "Jeez fine, the one time I try being nice and all you ever do is be a total douche." You outed the room, flattening the lacey blue ruffles of your dress, adjusting your gold heart shaped locket and your finished hair. You walked down the hall once more, waiting for your fiance to open her eyes and act like the princess she really was whether she liked it or not. You found yourself at the entrance of the castle, a strongly built woman guarding the gate. "Strong arms, huh?" You smirked up at her, her face flushing, "Princess." She averted her eyes, meanwhile Ellie watching from afar with Dina. "God she's always flirting with those damned guards" she huffed, the giggling of you and the guard filling the room. "Why care so much? What, you like her?" Dina said, brushing the lose strands of hair from her face. "God no" she said annoyed, fixing her new suit. "Sure seems like it" Dina scoffed. "She can flirt with who she wants" Dina defended you. "Whatever" you turned to see the girls eyeing you warily for you had no clue as to why. You brushed your hand off the guards arm, kissing her cheek. "Guys let's go, we'll be late." You waved your arm at them, calling them over as they obeyed. "Alright Papa! We can go" you shouted to the topless carriage outside. "Perfect, darling!" He smiled, patiently waiting, you carefully lifted your dress running to the cart. Leaving Ellie behind. "You like her" Dina teased. "Oh fuck off, I've hated that ‘ Little Ms. Perfect ’ since I was 5, thats not about to change now just because she went from some annoying ugly duckling to a fucking goddess...or.. whatever." Dina chuckled, "like a swan?" She pressed. "Yeah whatever you wanna call it." She walked to the cart quickly behind you now to catch up, smiling at your father. "Took you long enough" you said. "Shut up" she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "We're already to leave!" Your dad called to the people in front, controlling the horses.

You drove up to your palace, the towns people, hundreds, of them cheerfully smiling, waving, throwing flowers from their own gardens, you couldn't help but flash a toothy smile, waving back and holding the hands of the little children being held upon shoulders of their parents, a few sending weird stares at you as Ellie stuck up her two fingers behind your head, mocking you, making some of the kids laugh. "Hey!" You turned, arms over your chest, "will you quit it?! God your frustrating" you sighed, melting back into the leather seats of the carriage.

Soon you'd pulled up at the gates of your castle, the horses in the stable causing a racket, and the ball gowns visible from the windows you'd seen from outside. The dim lights romantic, Ellie exited the carriage after your father, Joel waiting for Ellie to turn and help you down, she ran her hands through her hair annoyedly, grabbing your hand gently helping you down. Your heart fluttering the same the day you'd met when she kissed your hand, despite the hatred you had towards her, your locket glistened under the moon light, and the pins in your hair reflecting the moon itself. "Thank you, but I could've done it myself" you pushed her hand away. Walking alone to the entrance, walking in as the guards at the door opened it for you, you winked at them, the beads of sweat rolling down their heads. "Such a beautiful young women she's becoming" Joel smiled, Ellie turning her head from your direction, the poof of your dress following the move of your hips. "Indeed she is" your dad agreed.

As you entered the ball room, royal families you'd thought close to you came to greet you, compliments being thrown from every direction, the colours of the gowns bright and warming. "So... you and Ellie, huh?" A girl in green said. "Not as charming as everyone thinks" you rolled your eyes. "She's absolutely horrid." Your hands rested in your hips, suddenly warm breath tickling your neck. "Horrid my ass," she came from behind you, aggressively whispering in your ear her complaints. "Attitude problems I tell ya' " she pushed you aside gently. "You would think someone as pretty as her has a pretty personality too, but wasn't raised right... clearly " she sheepishly smiled at you. Your hands fisting the fabric of your dress in the palm of your hand as the girls gawked at her disrespect towards you, throwing shame at your name. "Fuck you" you mouthed to her, walking away annoyed.

You found yourself flirting with the princesses of every country, each one of them better than the last much like the last glass of wine you drank unsupervised. The shawl on your shoulders slipping off, the freckles and goosebumps appearing so clearly. "Look.. I'd give anything to sleep with you, but aren't you betrothed to her excellency, Ellie?" The girl respectfully asked concerned. "Who cares, everyone knows it won't work out." You grabbed her slim waist, suddenly your father tapping your shoulder. "The slow dance, dear." He grabbed your available hand, you measly let go of the girls pink dress, a look of dismay on her face. You internally yelling inside your head at the thought of marrying this woman. Your dad helped you your way to Ellie, her tall muscular build in the center of the room, standing there dreading your hands on her body. "Now don't make a scene, be professional" your dad warned, placing your hand upon Ellies shoulder, taking the empty wine glass from you, "fine... god" you looked up at Ellie, her gaze away from yours as her hands slid down to your waist, holding you firmly. Your hands only placed hesitantly on her padded shoulders.

"Sorry" she apologized, moving her hands gesturing she didn't mean to be weird. "Ellie Williams, THE Ellie Williams apologizing" you teased, her look still distant "would you look at me? No one'll believe your poor excuse of whatever the hell this is" you complained, your hand cupping her cheek, pulling her face to look at you as the band played a soft spoken song. "This is shit" she whispered. "Yeah, well they're all watching, so shut up and pretend you love me for the next annoyingly long 3 minutes of our dumb lives" you said, moving your feet slowly with hers in sync. She looked into your eyes, you realizing just how vivid her green eyes were, suddenly just noticing all the small details of her face, like the mole under her eye, or the scar on her eyebrow, even how uneven her side part was, you almost laughed in her face.

You upside down smiled, cheekily looking away, "what now" she asked, her brows furrowing. "Nothing, nothing" you waved your hand dismissively. "Yeah whatever" softly laughing along with you, not helping herself. For a short period her hands on your hips sent butterflies surging through your stomach, her breath upon your forehead giving you goose bumps as you twirled and spun around the room, your dress swinging satisfyingly as you forgot the crowd of people around you. "You know, your presence currently is... slightly more tolerable than usual." You whispered, "That so true, now?" She widened her eyes, spinning you into a dip on the slow and steady beat of the song. "Surprisingly." You giggled, admiring the equivalent of stars splattered across her scab cut face from training, your heart increasing every so slightly. You almost felt yourself falling for her like a fool. "If you weren't such a massive whore and flirt to every girl you met I might've actually been in love with you by n—"

"Excuse me?" You interrupted her. Angrily, stepping on her foot. "Ow— what the fuck?" She yelped. "'No what the fuck'd you just call me?" You let go of her immediately. The gaze of people returning to just you. "Well I'm not wrong." She admitted honestly. "Oh yeah— as if you don't do the same, Ellie!" You cried, pushing her away, almost tripping over your dress. "Why do you always do this?! What's your fucking issue? Can you not act like a decent human being for once?" You rolled your eyes, crossing your hands over your chest as she stared at you almost fearfully. "The only reason you're fucking dance with me is because if you didn't we'd both get shit for it! To think I almost fell for that shitty act of yours." Your eyes started to swell up with tears glistening in the light threatening to spill. "No fucking shit! Why'd I like you if you're always being like this?"

You scoffed, "Fuck you, Ellie." You pulled your laced shawl back up your shoulders, holding it firmly as you ran to your room.

That night you watched Ellie shamefully leave in her fathers carriage, Dina beside her worriedly holding her hand in attempt to relax her, a frown on your face as you'd waved goodbye, you entered inside, your father calmly rubbing your back. "I want to break off the engagement." You said sternly. "But—"

"No!" You bursted, the tears rolling down your cheek onto your already tear stained ball gown. "I don't care about out legacy— we'll get someone else to take over, I refuse to wed her. Do you not understand the severity of what she said to me, father?!" You cupped your mouth, muffling the sobs, your breaths quick and weak.

"At least just give it another year, my love, please consider" your father frowned, the wrinkles on his face increasing by the years. "Love has it's ups and downs, this is bound to happen through your marriage" he tried to reason. "Not when you refuse to do what it takes to fix it." You wiped your nose. Your cheeks red and your eyes puffy. "I'll give it another summer" you reckoned, "but one more slip up of hers and I'm done for." You darted your eyes, your tone serious.

"Very well, my dear" he hugged you, whispering a low "I love you"

"I love you too" you hugged him back, holding back the frustration tears.

You wanted to lose your mind atleast a hundred and fifty times before meeting Ellie again. The dreaded summer you'd not been waiting for, not by a long shot. Your father repeatedly thanked you, the carriage dropping you at the front gate of the castle with your dad. Joel standing smiling at you, Ellie up in the castle possibly spying on your every move, and if she was, you wouldn't have been surprised. "I'm really, really sorry for the way things endin' " he apologized, hugging you closely. "Don't worry Joel, it was a misunderstanding.. You know.. like Papa says.." you chuckled, the stupidity of last year's events getting to your head. You stepped foot inside the castle, barley missing anything about it but the guards. "Ellies up inner' room if you wanna go.. y'know" he pointed to the grand staircase. Your father gave you the look, where you didn't have to go, but if you didn't, the disappointment would be unbearable.

You went up the steps to the last floor, out of breath your 2 inch heels making you wobble, you found yourself hesitating at the door, unable to turn the knob before you heard the sound of suckling, heavy breaths, and deep sighs, you almost felt you were about to throw up. The anger boiling inside you, you could've just left, slept it out, or argued with her, tiring her out instead. You aggressively pushed open the door, nearly breaking your nails, the sight of a woman on top of Ellie, her nightgown barley even worn on her body anymore and the soft fingers of Ellie's you'd felt one too many times on your body for your comfort on the girls hips. "This just keeps getting worse and worse, doesn't it?!" You exclaimed angrily. "Fuck." Ellie sighed, her eyes wide as the woman got off top of her, adjusting her lingerie before rushing out clumsily. "What the fuck do you want?" She got up, sitting straight, all left of her, her loose strapped bra. "What do I want?" You mimicked her, suddenly stomping towards a pair of clothes, throwing at her almost bare chest, you grabbed her as she finished clothing, gripping her forearm tightly, you dragged her downstairs, the sound of your loose dress waving in the air and your breaths heavy, you stopped at 2 of the 3 dining rooms until you found your father. "I'm out!" You complained. "I refuse to marry her, I'm done." Your tiara crooked off the top of your head, Ellie gave you a dirty look. Pushing you off of her. "But —" you continued. "I'm not going to marry someone who doesn't love me" you hallored. Throwing her an angry and disapproved look. "I want to leave, and I never want to see her face again unless it's news of whoever she's betrothed to next cause they're in for a rude awakening." You insulted. Not a word escaping her lips, but a few gasps from Joel. His heart along with your father's crumbling to the ground like a shattered plate. "I'm sorry Papa, but I can't." You sighed. "I'd like a carriage to bring us home as early as possible, we have important decisions to make, I'd rather be in the comfort of our castle rather than a scums." You walked to your room. Packing the things you'd left during the winters for the summer, all of it coming to an end. It almost made you upset, you were overjoyed, yet angry, at how you almost fell for her, if she hadn't said what she did that day at the ball, you would've sworn you'd forgotten the rotten history of your past.

The next morning you left, concluding the last time you had seen Princess, Ellie Williams, your ex fiance.

You hadn't seen Ellie in two years, and if you were being honest, your life had become healthier. It was like it'd always been but without the stress of Ellie constantly making your life a living hell, you'd been in a few relationships, none of them lasting and neither one of them being ‘the one’, you picked up on your hobbies, helped your father around the town, rebuilding the castle and re-doing your room, and at the very best making friends of your own.

"Princess" the guards entered the dining room as you read a book, munching on freshly picked strawberries from the garden out back. "Yes?" You smiled, turning your head to look at her. "One of your friends are here, requesting to see you" the guard said. "Oh thank you, tell her I'll be there in a second" you stood up, patting your pink dress of the strawberry seeds, closing your book. "Very well, your excellency" the gaurd rushed away, leaving you adjusting you hair before walking through the halls rapidly to see your bestfriend.

"y/n!" She shouted, waving at you, her pale dress falling beneath her ankles and her cardigan slipping off her shoulders. "Elisa!" Your lips growing into a grin, "I didn't know you were coming!" You ran towards her, engulfing her in a well needed hug, "you didn't get my letter?" She giggled. "Goodness, no." Your arms fell from her waist, playing with her hair. "What a surprise!" You squealed. "No! The surprise is what I have to tell you!" She grabbed your wrists, her smile wide. "I just had to tell you in person!" She said. "Must be important, huh?" You said, pulling her inside the castle, your dresses meshing against eachother. "What is it?" You asked, taking her out to the garden. "Well.." she began, you took your seats at the small table centered with a bouquet of lilies. "The neighboring kingdom.." she began, your heart skipping the beat at the sound of it. "Y'know.. King Joel, princess Ellie.." you scoffed. "Some princess" you rolled your eyes. "No, but, listen!" Elisa waved her hands, "they're hosting a ball, every royal, andd towns people invited she exclaimed excitingly, her, herself just a wealthy towns person. "Oh, goodness," you paused, "in what honor?" You asked curiously, "Princess Ellie hasn't found someone to marry yet, Kind Joel's saying there hasn't been one perfect match since.." she trailed off. "Not surprised." You tucked your hair behind your ear. "What's it to do with me, though?"

"wanna come as my plus one? Just for fun! Of course" she asked overjoyed. "Elisa.. I don't know.. you know how things ended—" you said, resting your head on your hand. "Please! We'll stay away from her at all costs." She begged you. You pondered over the decision, looking for reasons you should and shouldn't be going before deciding it might've been fun. "Fine!" You said warmly, "but if anything goes wrong.."

"I know!" She smiled. "Alright," you agreed "it's tomorrow night, you might want to get ready" she said, getting up quickly. "Now I've got to go get prepped. I'll see you tomorrow?" She pushed in her chair. "Sure will, need me to see you out?" You asked. "Nope, all good, I've been here so many times I know the hallway like the back of my hand...... Sort of" she waved you off as a guard took her away. You stared into the distance, watching the geese and doves fly profusely over the sunset, suddenly feeling like going for a late night walk in the woods outside the town.

You found your way around the castle to your father, asking him for a dress fitting early tomorrow. Afterwards going onto put a long warm coat, white fluff fulfilments along the rim of the sleeves and hoodie, a moon stone as the button that clipped at the top. The coat itself a heavenly blue. You'd left the castle, quietly walking through the town, street lights flickering and the youngest little children running around in packs as their parents watched over them, curstying after you.

You watched the constellations ever so brightly in the sky, everyone of them dusted across the midnight blue, the sparkles of them vividly reminding you of Ellie's freckles, you subconsciously counted them the summers you met her. It made you sick. Moreso the thought of having to see her again rather than counting the freckles new every year. In some ways, you felt crushed by how you so easily could've moved on from the one you were ‘destined’ to marry, break it off, and still not have found love. It was like a curse, thinking of how in every universe, you hated her guts.

You're gaze softened at the lake you'd come to just through the forest , 2 swans tangled in eachothers embrace, their feathers white as snow, a heart lazily untangling as they swam side by side, neither one of them moving further apart than 3 inches from eachother. You sighed. Looking at the locket you'd owned since 15, it heart shaped, a swan engraved on it. "Oh how I love swans" you whispered. You made your way up to the castle a little more than an hour later, the moon fully above, it reflecting off of windows you stepped by.

Once you woke up in the morning, you'd gotten your dress fitting done, choosing a baby blue ball gown, the sleeves falling elegantly off the shoulders, lace and jewels falling across the corset of the dress, pearl necklaces to go with the locket you held so dearly, and glittery high heels. You'd gotten your hair done not far long after, your white and silky house coat sliding against your hair softly, the maid had put your hair in a half up-half down look, strands of hair still lazy left out, framing the shape of your face precisely the way you had liked it, she finished it off with a jeweled tiara matching your gown.

The day'd passed the sunset almost upon you, as you looked into the vanity in your room, your heart beating fast as you slipped on your gown, you maid behind you tightening your corset, tieing elegant bows, you adjusted your sleeves, "Miss, are you alright?" The maid asked, concern in her voice as she massaged your shoulders, watching as your gaze became saddened and saddened the more time went on. "Oh, no I'm fine.. Please, tell the guards to tell Elisa that I'll be down as soon as possible when she gets here." The maid left the room, you put on cherry red lipstick, focusing so quickly on making it perfect, you watched your lips move around blending it out to be softer. "I can't believe I'm doing this" you groaned, slipping on your heels gently, walking out to see Elisa in a bright pink dress, a boa slinking off her shoulders the radiant white fluff falling across her chest, diamonds hanging from her neck and ears. Her hair in a clean bun. "You ready to go?" She said, grabbing your arm as you walked up to her. "You look beautiful" you smiled. Dismissing the question. "Thank you" she blushed. "I was hoping I'd meet someone there tonight, it means a lot you think that" "no of course, I get it" you rubbed her arm with your thumb, circling in the same spot. You hoping you'd meet someone as well.

The carriage drove you through the dark night passing the same lake with the partnered swans, from the night before. "You looking to settle down?" you asked, hands resting on your lap. "I think so, I wanna have children so bad, and I need their future parent to treat them just as well as I would" she stared at her hands "all I really want is a family" the cold coming from her mouth. "I'm betting you'll meet someone amazing" you assured her. The trees swayed in the winds, your hair blowing along with the rhythm of it all, strolling through the ghost town that you'd remembered so full when your enemy wasn't foolishly inviting every person to exist to this horrid ball. You found yourselves at the gate. The castle lit and decorated with bright and gorgeous lanterns. You both thanked the guards.

You shivered walking to the big doors that's been open. Guards greeting every new person to have walked in. "They'll be here all night" you whispered to Elisa. "Sure will" she said, sorry for them.

You walked in the ball room, Elisa disappearing from your arm as soon as you did. "Typical" you sighed. Walking measly around the room, your gown brushing against the others. Feeling small in the crowd. You stood at the food table, eating the crab cakes like your last dinner, stuffing in two at a time before catching a glimpse of a tall build, her hair short, the same hairstyle as you, and her suit dark, a blue rose in her pocket. Talking to a few of the females, the freckles and eyebrow scar unmistakable. You're breath hitched, gulping down the remaining crab cakes, you felt faint, she looked so mature, her smile bright, yet her eyes hiding a subtle hint of pain you'd only notice if you'd known someone for years, regardless how much you hated them. Tucking the loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes suddenly widening before you realized she'd seen you. "Shit" you muttered, she waved off the women excusing herself to walk towards you.

She stopped a few inches from you, averting her eyes from yours as she bowed, a gasp escaping your coated red lips. "Princess" her voice cracked. "Yes— uh, Princess... Ellie" you curtseyed. "You look... Beautiful" she breathed. Gently grabbing your hand to kiss it softly. "Thank you— Did you happen to hit your head or something" you pulled your hand away quickly away from her lips. "You're acting... Strange" you let out a breath you had no clue you'd been holding in for so long. "How so?" She raised a brow. "You're not acting like you hate my guts." You said. "Who said I didn't?" She crossed her arms. "What? So that's changed now cause I'm, ‘beautiful’?" You spat. " 'That such a bad reason?" She scrunched her nose subconsciously, wiping it with her hand. "Get your head out of the gutter Ellie." You stomped away, "fuck" she whispered.

You still unable to wrap your head around when she'd become so.. odd? You flew around the ball room, every 30 minutes seeing her eye you from across the room. As if some kind of snack, you began to feel creeped out, her whispers to an oh so grown up Dina always beginning after she saw your face. Soon you found her asking you to dance. "Ellie, if you're only going to like me because of my looks.. I don't want you to like me at all" you sighed, taking a step back. "Especially considering our history, I mean what is this? 15 years of constant torture and insults being thrown at me for it to just suddenly change? I can't do it Ellie, I really just can't" you said, turning around for a split second, before she hooked her slender hand around your forearm, the slow dance beginning as she pulled you into her, her hand firmly on your waist and the other holding your other hand just above your shoulders. You sighed, "Ellie —" annoyed. "What else?" You said, she held you close, deja vu hitting you like a carriage door, while she span you around the room, the crowd almost not there, you gazed deeply into her eyes. "What else?" She raised a brow confused. "Is beauty all that matter to you?" You asked, pained. "What? No—" she choked on her words. "That's not—"

"Then what else?" You grip on her hand tightening significantly. "I don't know— I mean—" she bit her bottom lip. "No Ellie— save it." You stopped her. "You don't get to do that" you darted your eyes at her, the hatred building up with every step you took, you began to feel frustrated. "Do what?!" She raised her voice ever so slightly, no one heard over the band. "You don't get to like me because I'm fucking attractive now to you. That's just not fair." Before you could react, she grabbed your arm painfully, pulling you of the crowd of people, she dragged you down the hall, unable to free from her grip, you tripped over your gown. "Ellie what the hell!!" You cried, playing with her hand to get you off just before you'd got thrown into the tea room you'd remembered not to fondly, she locked the doors. "Ellie open that goddam door—"

"Would you just listen to me?!" She yelled, you quickly walked up to her, stumbling over your heels as you grabbed the collar of her suit, the blue rose falling from it. "You don't get to have me listen to you! Ellie, I hate you! And you threw this ball so you could find a wife, I am not going to play that roll again, just becau—"

She threw you onto the couch, your big dress wrinkling against it as she pinned you down, her arms caging your head from escape like an animal. You let a gasp escape your mouth. Your heels falling off of your feet in the uncomfortable position. "It's not because of your fucking looks! Y/n!" She confessed. Her one arm falling to her side. "It's the fucking history" her lips trembled. "We spent our whole lives together knowing one day all thats around us would be ours to rule, together." she said. "You know my worst fears, goddamn it, and you threw it away just like that." Your breath hitched. "And I know everything there is to know about you, whether I hate you or not." Her arms at your hips now, subconsciously caging you in again. "Those two years I didn't see you, I thought I missed messing with your fuckin' head and flaring your anger up like I was those 15 years, but I really just missed seeing the one person I spent every summer with up until I turned 18" you felt offended, her back handed compliments confusing you. You sat up warily, watching her gaze turn to guilt as you propped your elbow up against the head of the couch. "What the fuck" you breathed. Her face just inches apart from yours that you could feel her heavy breaths up against your lips. "Ellie—" you groaned. "So what are you saying? You're in love with me? After all that?" You scoffed in disbelief. "Yes!" She cried. Your heart pounded at your chest, the warmth between you suddenly growing hotter. You couldn't understand anything, grasp the situation at hand before you reached your hand up to her cheek, cupping it softly before connecting your lips that were inches apart just a few mere seconds ago. You roughly bit down on her lip, the sexual tension flying off the walls. "What're you doing?" She muffled a moan into the kiss, surprised as she gripped your hips. "Fuck you" you whispered, shoving your tongue in her mouth exploring every inch of her as she delicately whined, her embrace tightening. You lazily pushed her down, hovering above her, "all that shit just for this" you breathed, hooking your lips onto her soft freckled skin, leaving a wet trail across her neck, while you undid her button up, the sounds of her heavy breaths and sighs filling up the room, you sucked at her skin. "Fuck" she whined. Messily gripping a handful of your hair as the sticky path of saliva continued down her collar bone, stationd between her breasts. You abruptly stopped, struggling to undo the bows of your corset. Ellie looked up to you with pleading eyes, "lemme—" she heaved, flipping you over, your clothed ass up on her crotch while you held your hair to your shoulder, her fingers unintertwining the ribbons. You sat on your knees, she trailed kisses down the back of your neck, each and every one rougher than the last, your dress slipping off by the second before she threw it to the ground leaving you with only your panties left. "Shit" she whispered as you turned over, pulling her in desperatly, tugging at her lips between your front teeth. "You're so beautiful" she admittedly whispered between breaks. "Thank you" you, you smirked against her lips. You sat on her lap, sucking at her tongue, her hands roaming your body entirely, she played with your boobs, all the thoughts leaving your mind as you threw your head back. "Fuck, Ellie" you moaned. Her wet kisses filling the room with sinful noises.

Her tongue flicked at your hard bud, it only standing more as she sucked at it, toying with the other one while she still squeezed your plush hips.

"I need you" her lips meeting your stomach, butterflies in your lower abdomen began to scour, the heat between your legs only growing stronger as she praised you, worshipping your body like a goddess. "Why are you like this" your jaw dropped, her hands suddenly palming you through your panties, already soaking, moans escaping from your red stained lips, that matched the pair all over Ellie's neck and jaw.

"Lay down" she demanded, squeezing your ass cheek. You immediately layed yourself beside her, her head stationed between your legs as she looked up at you hungrily, a face you'd never seen her make at you before, she kissed the inside of your thighs, biting at them like dessert as her fingers gently rubbed at your throbbing pussy, your panties still unmoving, "mmh~" you muffled, the hickys between your legs butterfly shaped, she continued to rub at your sweet spot, playing with the tangles in your hair as she kissed you softly. Your heart collapsed in on itself, the gentleness something youd never experienced before. "You're being so... So sweet" you heaved into the kiss, staining her lips in lipstick as she rubbed faster. "You deserve it" she smirked against the kiss, leaving more around the rest of your face. The ball room music faintly heard from outside, your mouth formed an ‘O’ as she lowered her head again. Your conversations severly uncoordinated, responding to questions with only moans and whines. She slipped off your panties, only lowering them as far as your knees, "I'm gonna make you never want to leave this room" she kissed your hickey covered thigh again, before nuzzling your clit with her tongue, you flinched at the contact, an overwhelming pleasure washing over you as your legs shaked, leaving her holding your hips down. You felt your walls tighten, she swirled her tongue, every muscle causing you to tense up, her tongue only deepening. "Oh god—" you reclined back, her teeth softly nipping your pussy. "Feel good, princess?" She said. Rubbing your inner thigh reassuringly as she suckled "fuck, yes, Ellie" you whined. The pressure in your stomach building up, "I'm so... Fuck—!!" She slid against your walls, you cupped her hair, thrusting your hips into her tongue, desperately wanting to release the knot. Your wet folds quivering. "Please, Ellie—" you begged, vibrating underneath her touch. She fingered your clit, eating you out both at once. "Ellie, Ellie, Ellie, Ellie!!" You cried you repeated her name like a god. Giving into your pleasurous desires, the creamy white substance leaking down your thigh "shit!" You cried, all she did praising you through your orgasm, just for her fingers to not lift off once. Still her slender fingers pounding inside of you quickly, the slaps of skin filling the room like paddy-cake.

She sat you on her lap again, grinding your hips over her hand, having you ride her as she moved your waist herself, you too weak, for your second orgasm to wash over you, the couch damp in your liquids. "You're doing so good" she whispered, your fingers digging into her skin like daggers. Your heavy breaths drawn over the music. You came again. Your head falling into her shoulder, she tucked the strands of messy hair off your face, tears staining your Rosey cheeks, and her clothes stained in your cum.

"Oh god.."

PART 2?

I got so lazy towards the end out of fear people would get impatient!! Especially since I promised to post yesterday!! Either way, I will edit eventually if people want me too! I'll be posting part to in the next few days! <33

[ms-demeanor]

Hi there! Firstly, wanna say a huge thank you: your blog has inspired me to become more educated about cybersecurity and nutrition, and it’s the reason my brother and I now use Firefox! I came across this article and… it seemed to raise a lot of valid points about Mozilla, but I have no idea if they are true or not since I’m not that knowledgeable about tech, and they go against everything I’ve ever heard about Firefox. Wanted to ask if you wouldn’t mind giving it a quick read, if that’s not too much trouble, and explaining why it’s false/true? If you can, ofc, I realise that is a weird request, and I promise it&: not something I’d usually ask someone. I just thought I’d ask since you’re the only sort of ‘tech’ person I can think of whom I’d trust to know stuff about this. https://digdeeper.neocities.org/articles/mozilla

So this is a great example of someone reading a ToS uncharitably and extracting the most paranoid bullshit possible.

Aside from the absolute classic "oh noes they are storing info about what devices you use" (if you use firefox logged in mozilla will collect information about what device and OS you use to connect; they do this for a lot of reasons like figuring out what stuff the bulk of their users are using but also because *they can't display on your device without that data*) I want to zoom in on this as an example:

BTW, there is one really funny thing inside the account ToS (MozArchive) that I just have to mention: "We may suspend or terminate your access to the Services at any time for any reason, including [...] our provision of the Services to you is no longer commercially viable." The fuck? If you stop bringing them profit, you're gone. They really said that! To me, this is a roundabout admission that your data is being sold. And if it's not worth much (for whatever reason), then you get kicked out.

This person is highlighting the idea that they may cut you off from services if the provision of those services is no longer commercially viable. This author is saying "FIREFOX WILL BOOT YOU WHEN YOU STOP BEING A PROFITABLE LITTLE PAYPIG FOR THEM"

But. Okay. Let's go look at that section of the ToS:

These Terms will continue to apply until ended by either you or Mozilla. You can choose to end them at any time for any reason by deleting your Mozilla account, discontinuing your use of the Services, and if applicable, unsubscribing from our emails. We may suspend or terminate your access to the Services at any time for any reason, including, but not limited to, if we reasonably believe: (i) you have violated these Terms, (ii) you create risk or possible legal exposure for us; or (iii) our provision of the Services to you is no longer commercially viable. We will make reasonable efforts to notify you by the email address associated with your Mozilla account or the next time you attempt to access the Services. In all such cases, these Terms shall terminate, including, without limitation, your license to use the Services, except that the following sections shall continue to apply: Indemnification, Disclaimer; Limitation of Liability, Miscellaneous.

Bud. This says "we are not obligated to provide services to you and we may stop providing services that cost us more money to maintain than is viable." This isn't about selling your data, this is about backwards compatibility and sunsetting projects. They don't have to keep providing access to services they're no longer developing nor bend over backwards to make sure that you can keep running a version of the browser that uses the extensions they dropped support for ten years ago.

Ugh. I got to the section where they talk about cucking for manifest3 and jesus this asshole. Manifest 3 is a defacto set of web standards that are changing because google has so much market share as a browser that if they do something everybody else has to follow or they're going to break basic functionality; if they don't make these changes eventually a shitload of websites just will not work on firefox. WAY more than currently experience this problem. Nobody is happy about manifest 3 and the fact that mozilla put out a press release about coming manifest 3 changes (that was not positive!) doesn't mean they're happy about getting dragged along by the nose; this blogger would prefer something like them refusing to adopt those standards, but all that would happen is that they'd lose more users because less shit would work on firefox browsers since people write their sites for chrome first and anything else second if at all.

This writer also gripes a lot about things like "mozilla took away this functionality for the sake of security and SURE you can change that by going into the configurations but it should be an option right in the first panel of the settings what are they really trying to hide???" and they're not trying to hide anything bud they're trying to make a functional browser with intuitive menus for people who aren't power users.

Like they want to be able to do everything they want and they want to be able to see the option in front of them at all times. It's a weird combination of "I know how to configure everything about this browser" and "if a setting is ever hidden behind a readmore it's a dark pattern and is an attack on user privacy." Like they gripe a lot about privacy and then link to a bunch of pages on mozilla where they explain their privacy settings and link to tutorials on how to hide the data that they just explained they collect.

Yeah this is someone I would walk away from in order to avoid getting into a fistfight.

"FOSS licenses are nice but they don't ensure quality" nobody said they did.

"FOSS licensed softwares don't always accept user participation in development" nobody said they did

"I can't change the actual code of firefox to remove things that I don't like don't tell me to fork it it has to be all or nothing mozilla specifically has to do what I want or it's user hostile" I can see why it would be hostile to you as a user fuck you dude this is why forks *exist* (also the "spyware" discussed is basic browser tracking stuff, the realistic necessities of how email work that make it not private by default like the PROTOCOLS are not private you can't get around that, and a lot of the stuff is opt out but improves functionality for day to day users, AND a lot of the tracking is specifically for people with logged-in accounts which are not necessary to use firefox like if you hate pocket don't use it my friend! I also hate pocket it is quite simple to never use it thanks)

"There's no justification for making the source code unavailable" my dude. https://hg.mozilla.org/mozilla-central/

"If they really cared about an open internet they'd work toward killing capitalism." Friend. I think there's very little more that a web browser could do to undermine the capitalist nature of huge chunks of the web and maintain a broad userbase than what firefox is doing.

I'm reminded of the time that I saw someone losing their shit about a linux distro that included chrome as *a* browser - not the default browser, but *a* browser.

It is an unpleasant fact that a lot of firefox's funding comes from google. That's part of why google is still the default search engine in Firefox and I read some similar articles decrying mozilla's residence firmly in Google's pocket a few years ago. I don't think there's anyone at mozilla who is genuinely pleased that their cheques are signed by google, but there are a ton of people at mozilla who are happy they can keep the lights on because getting paid by google means that they can do as much as they possibly can to create a functional browser that has a significant interest in privacy by default and that can be made *VERY* private by a dedicated user.

Anyway a lot of the stuff on this post is things like "a certificate expired five years ago and broke extensions and that means that mozilla is incompetent and hates users" or "eleven years ago there was a slapfight in the bug reporting forums between a user and a mod and the fact that the user was kicked after repeatedly being told his fix wasn't going to get made is censorship."

The big beefs at the center of this post are:

Mozilla collects data on users

Mozilla limits functionality that should be up to the users

Mozilla takes money from google

and my refutations are:

it does, and it is less than any other mainstream browser and is much much more transparent about what data is collected and how to prevent that data from being collected

A lot of the functionality they're discussing is still there and the stuff that isn't is allowing unsigned extensions which, dude, put a fork in it. They're not going to budge on unsigned extensions but the bar you have to clear to get signed is really really low; like this guy is LITERALLY saying "allow the installation of malicious extensions."

Yep. They do. This point reminds me of a lot of the people on tumblr who hate ads but also hate it when people pay for tumblr. As it turns out making things costs money, and making things used by millions of people costs *A LOT* of money.

I mean FFS one of the things this writer complains about is that Mozilla has a YouTube page.

This isn't just letting perfect be the enemy of good, it's letting perfect be the enemy of *functionally existing as a large organization in the modern world.*

Anyway, I'm glad you enjoy my blog, thank you for letting me know!