#had the gall to be so condescending about it

[bazpitch]

omfg someone on reddit was trying to read like sikh religious books to learn more ab the religion and i figured it was someone who was like, raised sikh but it's some gora cunt who learned ab sikhism off the internet and had the audacity to be like omgg i cant read it it's boring af

#Like.... HELLO? #like that was a religion before u tried to co opt it dude #had the gall to be so condescending about it #at first i was like aw good for u bro! learning more ab ur religion #but nope..! #i just. hate it #sry it will never not be weird to me when white ppl do that #get into crystals honestly 😭 #or at least. dont be a vapid bitch ab it #but also regardless 🤢🤢 #it was some white gay dude too btw lol!!! #like i dunno dude #if ur ancestors were all little house on the prairie #then like i kinda think the cultural gap is a teeny bit too #big mayhaps for u #always feels like an eat pray love moment w poc

[missluthorwillseeyounow]

What do you do when someone you love is a psychopath and a serial killer? How do you pick up your life and move on from it?

If you're Lionel Luthor, you don't. Your son betrays you and the legacy you built for him, and so your heart betrays you too. You sit at your desk with those damn pills your quack of a doctor prescribed and one too many drinks. You feel a warning twinge on your arm before excruciating pain, red and angry, blooms in your chest, and you never see the morning. 

The only good thing about this is that you never see your son go to trial for killing 47 people over a span of 6 years. People whisper that you are one of Lex Luthor’s victims.

If you’re Lillian Luthor, you don’t either. You clean the damned mess these Luthor men left you. You take over the company that your husband had the gall to leave you, just as he left you with your only daughter. You clean up the tatters of your family’s reputation and legacy that your son left behind. 

In the eyes of the world, you move on. You rise, finally able to flex the muscles so long held back by your husband and the rest of the world's expectations. And you bring Luthor Corp with you. 

The millstone of the trials and scandal hang heavy on your neck, but all your life you have taught yourself to walk gracefully among lesser beings with your back straight and your head held high, just as you did as a young girl with textbooks on your head. This is no different.

But once a month, you make a pilgrimage to Stryker’s Island. To Lex. To the son you loved the best way you knew how, the only way you knew how - with a firm grip and the relentless, uncompromising push to achieve excellence, the intractable determination to make him grow into his fullest potential. That this potential was realized in murder, malice and manipulation was not your intent, but the world is far too quick and vindictive in their judgement because he is a Luthor. The mightiest always fall the farthest, and those beneath them wait hungrily for the chance to pull them down.

Your daughter leaves you too. The daughter who emerged, not from your body, but from your husband's infidelity. The same one who once looked up at you with eyes full of innocent trust that you vowed you would reciprocate in the best way you knew how. And so you did your best to prepare her, to mold her in your own image - into what a Luthor woman should be in this cruel, savage world that both worships and hates Luthors. 

You’ve seen what the world does to Luthors who do or say the smallest wrong thing and you never want her to suffer those whispers and so you tell her yourself. Better she hears it from family than the mouths and forked tongues of strangers.

But she is too hard-headed and too soft-hearted to comply. She rejects your bequest, the ungrateful girl, and tries to escape the Lena Luthor you tried so hard to cultivate all these years. 

As if you don't know. As if you could forget that it was her who brought this down upon all of you. Her, and that detestable Clark Kent. 

And if you are Lena Luthor, you cannot move on. You cannot escape it. No matter how far you stray from your family. No matter how many reparations you make, no matter how hard you strive to separate yourself from the curse it brings -- it always finds you.

It finds you in the dark hours when you’re by yourself without the touch of another woman or the burn of alcohol to distract you - and suddenly you’re a scared little girl again, walking into an ominous house made of grim oak, unforgiving marble and dark shadows. And the only warmth you receive is not from a largely absent and formidable father nor from a condescending and controlling mother, but from a charismatic and mercurial brother who taught you how to play chess and promised you the world.

But it turns out his shadow was the darkest of all, and you didn't see until it was too late.

How could you not see it?

You were just a girl at that time, Agent J'onzz once tried to comfort you with that fact. Back when Lex was arrested.

Just a schoolgirl home for the holidays -- shoes polished as bright as the naivete in your eyes, uniform pressed to Lillian's exact standards, picture perfect but always with just one tiny detail you forgot that was enough to attract notice and invite criticism. This time it was the glasses sitting slightly crooked on your face. 

You were more concerned with weathering the scorching disapproval just long enough until you got back to boarding school that you failed to notice Lex's distance. You failed to recognize the signs. You failed to decode his lies.

You failed.

By the time you got back to boarding school, he would have killed 2 more people.

By the time you caught on, he'd already killed 31. Those lives are all on you, because you were so absorbed by yourself, you didn't see what was happening under your nose. And those 3 agents Lex killed because he refused to come quietly? The judge and jury he poisoned at the trial? That's on you too.

Forty-seven lives taken. Forty seven more than there should have been if you hadn't been so blind. 

If only you hadn't been comforted by the gentle hand holding yours under the table throughout Lillian's litanies of your shortcomings everytime you were home from school. If only you hadn't fallen for the "adventures" he had tricked you into that always ended with you in disgrace or punished, like that time you stole Lionel's prized pen from the King of Jordan, just for him. 

If only you hadn't believed the fairy-tale dream of the two of you escaping to the snow-covered mountain peak, of finally being free of the Luthors’ oppressive presence.

And now he's serving 20 consecutive life sentences, and you've devoted your life to studying and stopping people like him.

Now you have 10 years of experience as a profiler and an undercover operative for both the Interpol and the FBI. Your work has taken you from Toran, to Kaznia, to Corto Maltese, to Metropolis, and now to National City.

You have seen the worst humanity has to offer, from terrorists to human traffickers to serial killers. But you keep looking into the abyss.

Because you looked into it once, you stared it in the face, and you didn't recognize it for what it was. 

_________

Or, a Supercorp Criminal Minds AU

There's actually 3 major plots in this, and they all intersect in varying ways

The first is Lex as a serial killer

The second is about Sam and Reign

The third is the most vague one, which includes Lena’s birth mother and Leviathan

It starts (as the intro says) with Lex being a serial killer who killed 47 people. In one version of this story, Clark is a reporter who, like Lena,  made the connection between Lex and the murders. One night after dinner  with the Luthors, Clark sneaks into Lex’s study to find evidence he can use for his story. 

He’s rummaging in a desk when he hears a voice from the doorway.

“You  won’t find anything there.” Clark whips around to find Lena standing  there, silhouetted against the light coming from the hall. He tenses,  thinking she’s about to tell her brother what Clark was doing. 

“If  Lex really is behind these murders, and I know you think he is, you  won’t find anything there. He’s not foolish enough to hide evidence  here." 

Clark doesn’t say anything, he just stares at her.  Lena pauses, looking away. "I… I didn’t want to believe it. Not Lex… He  wouldn’t…” Steel injects itself into her green gaze. “But the more time I  spend with him, the more clearly I see the truth. You see it too, don’t  you?" 

Clark straightens up and nods gravely. “Yes.”

The FBI eventually becomes involved in the investigation, and the team includes a certain agent on the fast track to becoming the unit chief, J’onn J’onzz.

J’onn meets Lena only briefly, but he’s struck by the young girl’s keen intelligence and remarkable calm. (Eventually, he becomes the one who suggests that Lena consider a career in profiling and criminal psychology).

Fast forward a couple of decades later, Lena is working with the BAU. The other members of the team here are J'onn, Alex, James, Brainy and Winn. Lena is a transfer from Interpol, and she's had years of experience in profiling, suspect and victim identification, as well as infiltration, under her belt (I also hc that she worked briefly with the CIA and the MI6, mostly in intel, profiling and undercover work).

For the sake of her anonymity (and also because it was necessary for her undercover work), she's erased all connections to Lex and the Luthors (including old photographs and newspaper articles until the name Lena Luthor is but a footnote in the Luthor history with nothing to tie her to who she is now). She's also changed her last name. (I'm torn because I just don't know if I can use the name Walsh for Lena, it doesn't sound.. right? Idk So for now, she's Agent Kieran).

Lena is very professional, almost intimidating. She’s revered by the younger agents in the Bureau, well-respected by her colleagues and highly praised by her superiors. But she's very guarded and keeps everyone at arm's length, doesn't go out for after-work drinks with the others, practically sleeps with one eye open — years of working undercover and living with a serial killer will do that to you.

Until a certain promising young recruit comes along.

Kara is new in town — the adopted sister of Alex Danvers, the cousin of one of J'onn's old friends (I don't think teaming family members up is actually allowed in the FBI, so some suspension of disbelief is required here). Lena is assigned to oversee her training and transition into the team herself.

Kara's sunny demeanor couldn't clash more with Lena's icy, professional facade. Lena approaches the task with thinly-veiled impatience and something remarkably close to disdain.

However, Kara quickly proves to be more than a perky attitude and a pretty smile. She squirms at blood, which Lena is quick to exploit at first (What FBI profiler can't stand the sight of a corpse? "We profile serial killers here, not celebrities in high-waisted jeans.").

But Kara displays true empathy to the victims and their families, she's sensitive to other people's emotions and knows just what to say to get a reluctant victim or witness talking. She's extremely dedicated to catching the unsubs, and relentless in her investigation. Not to mention, she's extremely handy to have around in a crisis.

Lena finds this last part out when they're on a case, trying to find a missing girl.

The team is headed to the unsub's apartment, but on a hunch, Lena heads to an abandoned warehouse near the apartment, with only Kara as backup. They enter the warehouse, and just as they're clearing the rooms and checking for the missing girl, the unsub attacks Lena and manages to pin her to the ground, choking her. Kara gets there just in time to shoot the unsub in the leg, saving Lena's life.

Later that evening, Kara and the rest of the team go to the bar to celebrate. Lena is absent, as usual.

Just as Kara is getting another round of drinks at the bar, a low, smoky voice interrupts her. "Didn't profile you as a drinker, Danvers.”

Kara squeaks, nearly dropping the drinks, and turns to see Lena smirking behind her. “I wonder what other surprises you're hiding behind those glasses and cardigans."

"Agent Kieran! I didn’t expect to see you here— No, these aren't all for me, I— " Lena's face softens at Kara's babbling, and she takes a few of the shot glasses from Kara's hands.

"You know, I have a rule..." A wry smile lifts one corner of her lipsticked mouth. "Anyone who saves my life gets to call me Lena."

Kara blushes profusely at the other woman’s arched eyebrow. "Well then, if I'm calling you Lena..."

Lena smirks. "Kara it is, then."

For the first time — much to the gaping surprise of the rest of the team she's worked with for years — Lena joins them for a post-case drink.

To everyone's — and no one's — surprise, the pair quickly become the best of friends.

Two days into their friendship, Lena starts jokingly calling Kara Supergirl. Three weeks later, they start grabbing lunch together. Three months in, Kara sends Lena a video of herself petting a St. Bernard on the street only to be bowled over in a mass of furry paws and puppy licks — and the cadets Lena is training are even more bowled over to hear the "Ice Queen" laugh. Of course, they're later treated with a scorching glare and a sharp reprimand, but it's a revelation just to discover that she's actually physically capable of laughing.

By six months, the whole department is in a secret "will they or won't they" betting pool. A year in, and every other department has stakes in the pool (Alex publicly condemns the pool, but secretly bets a hundred bucks that "they will" by winter).

One time while they're eating lunch together, Kara tells Lena why she became a profiler when her career was in journalism.

"It just felt... too late. I'd be covering these stories about these terrible things, people who were already victims, and I thought... it's too late... Don't get me wrong, I loved being a reporter. Journalism was a way to bring truth out there, to give voices to these victims, but.... I wanted - needed - to do something more. I wanted to stop these things from happening. To keep these people from becoming victims."

But despite their growing closeness, Lena has yet to tell Kara about Lex, or about her life before the BAU.

She doesn't tell Kara about the woman she'd loved once, who hates her now because of the lies Lena told her. She doesn't tell her about Reign. She doesn’t tell Kara about the sweet young girl living far, far away, who plays soccer and loves to sing and read. The little girl Lena loves from afar, but knows only through secret updates from James, because it's for her own good.

Because that sweet little girl that Lena hasn't seen since she was a baby deserves to live a life that's whole and good — away from those who love her, but could hurt her. Whether she's thinking about Sam or herself, Lena doesn't know.

There are too many secrets, Lena decides, as she shoves them all one by one into their little boxes, clamping the lid securely shut. Kara is too good to be tainted by any of them.

Kara, who gets squeamish at the sight of blood, but resolutely hunts each killer like an avenging angel. Kara, who somehow, somehow still believes in the good in people.

And when she realizes that there is very little of that to be found in Lena Kieran or Lena Luthor, Kara will hate her as much as Lena hates herself.

But then the day comes when Lena receives a package in the mail.

She reaches in and pulls out two things: one, a chess piece — the white knight — and the other, a surveillance photo of Kara and Lena having lunch together.

On the back of the photograph are three cryptic little words that fill her with dread: “See you soon, sis.”

Panic overrides logic and years of training, and Lena stashes the package and its cursed contents into her safe. Heart racing, she calls the warden at Strykers. It takes several favors, but she manages to procure video footage confirming that her brother is still incarcerated. Despite the visual confirmation, she doesn’t sleep a wink that night, nor the night after.

Everything is quiet after that, so quiet that Lena is almost lulled, if not into a sense of complacency, then at least a state of less vigilance. Everyone needs a breather, a reprieve from paranoia at some point, and that is exactly what Lex is counting on.

A string of seemingly-unrelated murders heralds Lex's return, luring the BAU — and Lena — closer and closer. Lena knows she should leave, and leave soon. The closer the team gets to figuring out it's Lex, the more danger they're in — not just Kara, but the rest of the team that Lena has now come to care for.

But Kara, being Kara, holds onto Lena and keeps her from leaving.

Kara knows her too well now. She knows that something is wrong. She pushes without pushing, in that earnest yet respectful way, relentless in her concern for the people she cares about, yet still mindful and considerate in her efforts. It's one of the things Lena loves about her.

And then, after coming home from a case one night — Kara is shot by an intruder in her apartment.

The whole team is thrown into chaos trying to find Kara’s assailant. They all agree that the attack cannot be random, but there’s a frustrating lack of evidence anywhere.

But Lena knows.

The lack of clues is a glaring clue in and of itself. She knows this is Lex’s handiwork. Her brother’s way of getting back at her for “telling on him”, just like he used to when they were children. Except the stakes are infinitely higher this time, and he has gone too far.

And Lena — who should've known — didn't prevent it. She was too selfish, too greedy, wanting more time — more time with Kara, more time with her team, her family — and now this is the result.

Lena knows that Lex will go after everything and everyone she loves, because he wants to hurt her. Luthors are not raised on half-measures. Win the game, or burn the board. He will not stop, Lena knows this. Not until either of them is dead.

While half the team is waiting at Kara’s bedside, and the other half is delving into Kara’s case — two people are noticeably missing.

Alex can’t bear to see her sister looking so weak and vulnerable in that hospital bed.

Instead, she goes to Kara's apartment to clean her sister’s blood off the wall before Kara gets home from the hospital.

She's just getting a bucket full of soapy water when she hears movement at the door. Alert, Alex already has her gun out and trained at the door.

When the door opens, all Alex sees is a flash of black hair and wide green eyes before she gets a gun aimed at her too.

"Lena?? What the fuck?! What are you doing here??"

Alex puts her gun down slowly, her heart still hammering. Lena cautiously does the same, her hands held out to her sides.

Alex gestures at the door "How did you—?"

"Kara gave me the key three months ago." Lena's eyes haven't lost their wary edge, but she has the decency to look a bit abashed. "She said I could come over anytime."

"Yeah, but Kara's still in the hospital. What are you doing here?"

"I know that," Lena slants her a light glare as she looks around Kara's apartment. "I just — I wanted to make sure the place is secure, and... well... I didn't want Kara to come home to that."

She gestures at the blood-spattered wall, but looks away quickly. As if she, like Alex, can't bear to stand the sight of Kara's blood.

It's funny. They're both seasoned agents, they deal with horrific things on an almost daily basis. The sight of blood rarely fazes either of them anymore. Except this is Kara's blood.

It seems impossible that Lena could get any paler, but here she is, as white as a ghost and looking just as sick as Alex feels. And yet, she's still here. Out of everyone in Kara's circle of friends and family, only Alex and Lena are here, performing a task that somehow seems more terrible than anything either of them have encountered.

It's in this moment that it begins to dawn on Alex just how special Lena is. How special she may still become.

Alex bends down and drags the bucket of soapy water to the wall. She doesn't look at Lena, and instead focuses on the wall and swallows down bile at the sight of her sister's blood. Over her shoulder, she mutters "Grab a sponge."

"That's not gonna be enough. We, um—" Lena clears her throat and chokes out. "— need bleach."

Alex nods curtly. "Under the kitchen sink."

Lena gets the bleach, and the two of them silently begin scrubbing Kara's blood off her walls, and that's that. Once they're done, Alex gets a couple of beers that Kara keeps especially for Alex in her fridge and offers one to Lena.

Then Alex gives her a mild version of a shovel talk lol

And then, two days before Kara is released from the hospital, the news breaks. Lex Luthor, convicted serial killer, has escaped from prison.

All eyes are focused on the BAU screen, except J’onn’s. He turns to his left. Lena Kieran watches the television without batting an eye.

Lena waits only until after Kara has come back home, to make sure that she's safe, that Alex is staying with her for now.

Looking at the blonde tucked into blankets on the couch, soft and vulnerable, Lena can't bring herself to say goodbye, so instead, she just leans over to kiss Kara on the forehead and says good night.

Then without a word, without even packing a bag, Lena Luthor leaves National City to lure her brother out of the shadows.

Lena makes her exit just as the team is on the cusp of finding out that Lena Kieran is Lena Luthor.

She leaves her apartment intact, knowing that Kara and the rest of the team will eventually search it. She sticks the surveillance photo of her and Kara on the bedroom mirror and writes on the glass in red lipstick: "I'm sorry. I promise I'll make this right."

J'onn is the only one who knows the truth of who Lena really is, and in the end, he's the one who tells them.

With Lena gone, it's clear to J'onn that she's about to do something monumentally stupid, like sacrifice herself for the team. He gathers everyone, and tells them the truth.

The group is gathered around the conference table, staring at pictures of young Lena on the screen.

Tiny Lena, not even 5 years old, just after she was adopted by the Luthors, her wide green eyes sad and confused, her little hands clutching a worn, well-loved teddy bear.

Six year old Lena and a teenaged Lex Luthor standing together in front of Lena's new school. The little girl in her neat uniform, holding onto the older boy's hand, looking at her big brother with an adoring smile.

Fifteen year old Lena on summer vacation, and a now-adult Lex, the young girl perched on the hood of a restored vintage car with Lex's hand on her shoulder. Lena is thinner, more gaunt, and her smile less bright, but Lex is different. He's grinning at the camera, looking every inch the charismatic billionaire playboy. You would never know from Lex Luthor's easy smile that he had already been killing for 5 years at this point.

Finally, the last Luthor family portrait, taken the year Lex was arrested. They're a beautiful family, there's no denying that. Each person in the photograph is regal and proud — but in each set face, there's a private war being waged. Lena looks far older than her sixteen years. Her face shows no emotion in each cut line, but her eyes betray all: a somber intensity that's impossible to look away from. Lex is the exact opposite. His smile is charming and draws the viewer's gaze, but his eyes are cold and dead. Within 8 months, Lex would be in prison, Lionel would be dead, Lillian would be running the company, and Lena would no longer be a Luthor.

Kara feels... she doesn't know how she feels.

There's anger, shock, confusion and... hurt. A lot of hurt, a heavy ball of it resting on the base of her spine, mixed with the ache of a longing she doesn't understand, something broken that only confuses her more. So she decides to settle on the anger.

Yes, anger is good. It gives her a sense of purpose and clarity, and it doesn't threaten to make her curl up into a tiny ball. She's angry that her best friend — one of the most important people in her life, second only to Alex — has been hiding all of this from her for years. She's angry that Lena, who has taught her so many things — not just about being a profiler, but about life and love and friendship — didn't trust her enough to tell her about any of this.

Anger is good, because it keeps the tears stinging the back of her eyes from falling, because... because Kara's always thought she knows Lena better than anyone. Had believed that out of everyone, Lena had trusted her, Kara Danvers, enough to get to know her. But now, it seems she doesn't really know Lena at all.

The screen flickers.

Everyone blinks up at the screen in confusion as it begins to glitch. Suddenly, the photos of Lena disappear from the monitors. It’s replaced by what looks like a grainy video feed. Kara turns to J’onn, who shakes his head, frowning. This was not his doing.

“What the hell?” Alex frowns up at the monitor and nudges Winn, who immediately squints into his computer screen. “Who’s doing that?”

“I have no idea...” Winn mutters. “Gimme a second...”

It looks like feed from a surveillance video, except it’s showing what looks like a cabin. Even from the pixelated image, it looks well-decorated, expensive, like something from a country home magazine. Outside the far window, Kara can see a view of snow-capped mountains. Outlined in the middle is a dark shadow of a man.

“They live soft, luxurious lives, don’t they? Your so-called friends. Oblivious, unencumbered by knowledge, and so pathetically... mortal. Fragile.” A smooth baritone voice cuts through the static, and Kara’s blood chills. That voice is familiar. “You and I, we have been trained in the hard school of danger and war. Haven’t we, sister mine?”

Another figure steps out of the shadows and into view, and Kara gasps. Even in the grainy image, Lena’s smile is sharp and icy. “Comparing yourself to Alexander the Great now, are you? But then again, you always were trying too hard, Lex.”

I don't know exactly how happens, I haven't figured it out yet, but Lena confronts Lex with the intention of killing him, except she's the one who's "killed".

And Lex, being the sadistic ass that he is, had the whole thing captured on a hidden camera and it's being broadcast on every BAU monitor, for Lena's family to see.

The whole team watches Lena "die".

But Lena had a failsafe. She told someone of her location, maybe Andrea or Jack or Jess idk, and had them standby to help her in case something happened.

The whole time Lex streams their confrontation, Kara is frantic. The table suffers under her fury, splintering with the force of her desperate grip.

Every time they get nowhere trying to track Lena and Lex, Kara punches the walls, and Alex has to hold her sister back, afraid of how Kara is losing control.

When the feed broadcasts Lena's death, it seems almost unremarkable. One second, Lena is standing, the next she's on the floor, lifeless and unmoving.

A deadly silence grips the BAU conference room. No one is moving, not even breathing. It's as if when Lena dropped dead on the feed, so did they. They wait. And wait.. and wait.

Lena doesn't move.

On the screen, Lex checks his sister's vitals and satisfied, steps over his sister's body and out of sight. The camera blacks out.

They all stare dumbly at the screen for a long moment, afraid to move, as if moving from their frozen spots would make it true.

It's Alex who stirs first. She jumps into action, frantic, ordering Winn to get the feed back, but it's impossible. The room erupts in a blaze of action, but Kara... Kara's the only one left staring at the screen, frozen in shock and disbelief, as if she can't believe it's real.

It’s not. It’s not.

In the interim between Lena's death and the reveal that she’s alive, Kara spends every waking moment hunting down Lex or secretly looking into Leviathan (which she also uncovers when she digs deeper into Lena’s life before the Luthors and learns more about Lena’s mother).

Kara goes down so deep into the rabbit hole, that Alex is genuinely afraid for her sister. She almost prays that they don't find Lex Luthor. Not because she doesn't want that man brought to justice, but because she's afraid of what Kara can and will do once she sees him.

Kara hasn't mentioned Lena's name in months. But then again, most of their team hasn't.

In the months since Lena’s death, two new members have been brought int the BAU team, William Dey and Nia Nal.

William and Nia know very little about Lena from the team itself, because her name is hardly mentioned. Nia only knows Lena through her reputation, and through what Alex and the other agents outside of their team have told her. 

Alex is the only one in the team who says Lena's name because she hates that everyone tiptoes around it.

Lena was their friend. Her friend, and it's not right that everyone flinches at her name, that they can't look at the plaque of her on the memorial wall. She knows how hard it is to look at Lena's picture there, just as hard as it was to look at Kara's blood on the walls.

But Alex is not gonna be the one to look away. Lena didn't look away when they cleaned Kara's blood off the walls, and Alex will not look away from her either. She's gonna hunt Lex Luthor down like the animal that he is and make him pay for taking Lena from their family.

But Alex is getting worried about Kara.

Her sister doesn’t sleep anymore. Barely eats. Kara doesn't stop — she pores over old files of Lex's murders, goes over the old profile, possible places he might be. Alex is worried about her fixation with Lex. It's not healthy. Kara's grief — or her refusal to grieve — is gonna drive her to the ground.

So she confronts Kara about it.

They're in the BAU conference room when Alex finally speaks up, but Kara meets her gaze head on. With one hand, she points to the empty seat Lena used to favor, right across Kara's. "Lena's chair, Alex. What do you see when you look at it?... Nothing, right? We've left it empty all this time. No one can bear to sit it in. Tell me, what do you see, right now?"

Alex glances over at the chair, then back at her sister "Kara..."

"Tell me what you see, Alex."

Alex sighs. "Nothing."

"Exactly. Nothing." Kara nods, her eyes hard. "Do you wanna know what I see? I see her, Alex. I see Lena sitting across from me, just as clearly as I can see you now.”

Alex swallows at the intensity burning in her sister’s eyes.

“I see her everywhere, Alex. All the time. I see her smile, her eyes, and I—" Kara's voice cuts off with a sob. The agony in her eyes is almost too much for Alex to take. It takes a long moment before Kara can speak again.

"I can't stop, Alex. Whenever I stop and I look at her, I — I know she's - she's gone, but she looks so alive, and I— I know the only way I can get any kind of peace about it is knowing that Lex Luthor has been wiped off the face of the earth."

A frisson of fear shivers down Alex's spine. "Killing Lex won't bring Lena back, Kara."

"I know that, Alex." Kara's eyes are dark as flint. "Believe me. I know."

Sometime after Lena’s “death”, the BAU receives an unannounced visitor.

Lillian Luthor strides into the BAU bullpen, tall and imperial in her furs, her icy glare making everyone it lands on feel small and insignificant.

She strides past the bullpen, past Kara, and comes face to face with J’onn. Her cold blue eyes render everyone in the room silent. She scoffs her hatred into his face.

 "Taking my son away from me wasn't enough for you people, was it? You had to take my daughter away from me too. I warned her. I warned her this would be her undoing, and I was right. And now she's dead." 

They end up having to work with Lillian to find Lex, because as Lillian says "It takes a Luthor to find a Luthor." [And there's gonna be an interrogation lol. I just have this vague idea of Lillian talking about Lex and Lena.]

"The truth is, I lost Lena long before now.” Kara suspects that this is the closest anyone has come to hearing regret in Lillian Luthor’s voice.

“I was.... harsh on her, in a way I never was with Lex. Lex always had a sharp edge to him, but Lena — Lena was too soft, too vulnerable. A Luthor cannot be soft. Not when the world is watching, waiting for you to make the smallest mistake."

It’s not enough. It’s nowhere near enough. Kara slams her hands on the table, unable to believe the nerve of this woman. J'onn grips her arm in warning, but Kara ignores him, snarling at Lillian, her anger plain on her face. "You abused her! You made her feel unworthy of love, unable to trust anyone—"

Lillian lifts her chin. "I made sure my daughter could face a world that's hungry for Luthor blood. I made her a Luthor."

"She was just a little girl when she came to you!" Kara shouts, her fury growing by the second. "A little girl whose mother just died, who was looking for love, and instead she found you. She trusted you—"

Lillian's voice rises, a flash of heat scorching the cool, detached dignified tones. "I made her strong!" 

"She didn't need to be strong!" Kara yells, surging up to her feet, her face inches away from Lillian. J'onn grabs her shoulder, restraining, but Kara presses forward. "She needed someone to love her! And you answered that with nothing but condescension and neglect! The only one in your family who made her feel loved was a psychopath who betrayed her!"

Lillian is struck silent, her eyes wide and her face strained as she stares at Kara. Kara meets the older woman's eyes, staring her down without the fear that a younger Lena must have shown Lillian all those years ago.

Kara wishes she could've been there to hold that young Lena in her arms, wishes she could've taken her away from the family that broke her.

"The Luthor name didn't deserve Lena. You never deserved her."

#supercorp #lena luthor #kara danvers #supergirl #katie mcgrath #melissa benoist #me trying to write #I guess it could also fit with any crime drama not just CM #tbh I haven’t watched the show in I don’t even know how long. I was just watching a crime drama show and I had these in my drafts so #enjoy I guess? or not there’s a truck full of angst in this thing #p.s. this is like my FAVORITE characterization of Lillian. i tried my best 👉👈 please be kind #this is version 2.0 of my Criminal Minds AU cos i had to rework that one. and honestly i think this one is better #more fully realized i guess? idk it's 2am #sorry for the long post 😅

[ckret2]

Chapter 23 of human Bill being the Mystery Shack's prisoner is honestly becoming a bigger inconvenience for them than for him, featuring: Bill's ex-girlfriend.

Bill wants to avoid being seen in a human body (humiliating), Mabel wants to know everything about Bill's love life, and Ford and Soos just want to get rid of the safety hazard. And somehow they start here—

—and end up here.

After going through the entire pile of library books on lucid dreaming, Bill found one to recommend to Mabel that had glossy full-color illustrations, simple little meditative exercises, and—most importantly—no information about astral projection. (It was galling enough that her brother had somehow picked up the trick without realizing it; like heck would Bill help Dipper master it unless Bill could think of some way to take advantage of his skill.)

But for himself, Bill elected to follow a slim decades-old guide that advertised full control over your dreams in four weeks or your money back. A frustratingly long wait to master his own dreamscape, but surely Bill could find a way to fend off his execution at least another four weeks. And anyway, Bill was already a dream expert—maybe he could take shortcuts a human couldn't. He'd picked this book for two reasons: it was the shortest of the books Mabel had brought home; and it had Bill's face on the inside cover page, a triangle containing a grayscale human eye. If Bill couldn't trust advice dispensed by his own face, who could he trust?

He flipped to the back of the book, to the section on all the advanced dream tricks the author promised readers could learn once they'd mastered the basics. Telepathically sharing a dream with a lover. Prophetic visions. And of course, astral projection.

He gazed wistfully at the drawing of a body with its humanoid soul floating above it, loosely tethered to its physical shell's belly button by a ghostly cord. When Bill got out, no tether would tie him back to his flesh prison, and the little soul floating free wouldn't look so human.

He hoped it wouldn't, anyway— No. It wouldn't. Surely the Axolotl had only imprisoned him, not altered him... but then, the Ax had strange ideas about mercy.

Well, Bill wasn't getting to those tricks until he mastered the basics. He flipped to the front of the book. Step one of this four-week journey was to establish...

Bill scoffed under his breath. "A dream diary? Seriously?" A primitive travel journal for psychically-stunted creatures who could only peer through the doorway of the mindscape without properly exploring it.

But right now, Bill was one of those creatures. This book was for him, no matter how condescending he thought it was.

He sighed. All right. Dream diary. Fine. Luckily, he'd already assembled all the supplies he needed.

Mabel had spilled out her crayons in front of Bill plenty of times; sometimes she even let him use them. It had taken some careful timing and preparation, but a few days ago he'd grabbed the unloved grey and greenish-yellow crayons—the sharpest in her collection—during a moment she'd left him unsupervised. So that there wouldn't be any gaps in Mabel's meticulously rainbow-ordered crayon box, he'd had to unwrap the crayons, break off the tips and butts, roll out two tubes of Claydough to fill in the gaps, rewrap the false crayons, and stuff them back in the crayon box before Mabel got back. The middles of the crayons were safely spirited away in his hoodie. He was a genius. The humans underestimated him without his powers, but he was the smartest creature in the universe.

Bill was loathe to pull out Ford's Journal 4—he'd entertained some vague fantasy of filling it with the secrets of reality and slipping it somewhere Ford could find it, make him really regret turning his back on Bill's wisdom—but it was good quality paper and it was already in Bill's possession, so he couldn't afford to pass it up.

The lucid dreaming guide recommended keeping the dream diary under his pillow. Considering he was still sleeping on the floor on a couple of stolen couch cushions that he shoved aside as convenient, not likely. If he was supposed to have easy access to it whenever he slept, he couldn't leave it in his usual hidey-hole, either. He pulled the cushion off the window seat, chewed a tiny hole in the seam on the bottom edge, and carefully plucked out the thread to open up a gap along one side where it wouldn't be seen.

He pressed the stuffing out of the way, slid in the journal and crayons, and put the cushion back in place to await his next dream.

As Bill straightened up, he glanced out the attic window—and flinched in surprise.

Just outside, by the trees, was someone he knew. The most beautiful, graceful, desirable person in all the world. Someone he half thought he'd never see again. Bill stared in shock.

And then she turned toward the shack.

Bill ducked out of the window's view. "Heck."

####

"Star girl, we've got trouble." Bill was standing grimly in the kitchen doorway. "My ex is back in Gravity Falls."

Mabel's brain short-circuited so hard that she momentarily lost the ability to see as she processed the revelation that Bill Cipher had a love life. A whole new multiverse of matchmaking possibilities had just opened up. "Your what?!"

Bill pointed upward.

Mabel bolted out of her seat to follow him upstairs.

"Anyway, I assume we're exes," Bill said. "I usually dump people when they die, I'm sure she did the same to me."

Barely listening to him, Mabel gushed, "Bill, you sly dog, you've been holding out on me! I didn't know you dated!" She took his elbow to help keep him from tripping as they headed upstairs. "What's she like? Tell me everything!" Mabel hoped she wasn't evil. She probably was, but Mabel still had her fingers crossed for some sweet alien princess with a taste for bad boys who may yet lure out Bill's tender side.

"Oh—she's a stunner." Bill used his free hand to pantomime a shape that didn't conform to any silhouette Mabel could imagine, "Curves in all the right places... Down for anything..."

Maybe it was that pink Henchmaniac. She had curves. And was also the only one Mabel remembered who looked like a girl. "You must miss her a lot."

Bill grimaced uncertainly and muttered, "I miss what she does to my body, let's leave it at that."

He steered them toward the attic window and heaved a sigh of relief. "Okay, she's still here. Don't let her catch you staring."

Mabel pressed her face to the glass, eager to see who could have won the heart of Bill Cipher, Most Villainous Triangle Ever.

Below, a gigantic veiny eyeball flopped through the air on gnarled bat wings.

Mabel glanced up at Bill skeptically. "The eye-bat?"

"Mm-hm." Bill was biting his lip and gazing at the bat with pained, shiny-eyed yearning. His face reminded reminded her of the time her parents had dressed for a fancy grown-up dinner, and the way her dad looked when her mom came out in a slinky fuchsia cocktail dress.

Well, who was Mabel to judge? Everyone is beautiful to someone. Good for them. "What's her name?"

"Iris." Bill put a hand on Mabel's shoulder. "You've gotta help me."

####

"Hey, Ford? You got a minute?"

Ford looked up as Soos hovered in the door of his study. "I suppose I do now." He swept aside his lunch—his desk was littered with the remains of formerly-undead teriyaki chicken and the cheap wooden chopsticks he'd jabbed through the meat like wooden stakes—and slid the notebook paper with Bill's fowl resurrection spell back into his journal. "What's on your mind?"

Soos stepped fully into the room. "We've got a supernatural problem I was hoping you could help with," he said. "You know those little eye-bat things that hang around the farm? Well, there's a really huge one flying around the shack, and all the tourists are out-of-towners, so they don't know the eye-bats will swoop at your face unless you pretend you're blind? So the big guy keeps attacking the customers. I had to give away all our souvenir sunglasses to let the last tour group escape to their cars."

"A giant eye-bat?" Ford frowned. "How large?"

"Uh..." Soos held his hands apart. "Like a big beach ball? Yeah. One of those novelty oversized beach balls. But not like, so comically large you can't do anything with it. You could definitely still play beach volleyball with it. But you'd have to deflate it to get it through a door."

It sounded like one of Bill's minions. "It's not turning people to stone, is it?"

"No, just swooping at people's faces and being terrifying."

####

Bill watched from the kitchen window as the eye-bat folded in her wings, like a hawk preparing to snatch up a mouse, and dove at a tourist's head. The tourist screamed and ran the other way, chucking her purse at the eye-bat. Bill shouted at the window, "You don't know what you're missing out on, lady!" He dragged his hands down his face, groaning. "Man I wish that was me."

####

Ford nodded. "I'll see what I can do."

It was a welcome distraction. With Fiddleford currently pursuing their best lead to kill Bill, Ford hadn't felt motivated to keep researching long-shot plan B options; but he got antsy without work to do. Maybe dealing with an eye-bat would make him feel useful enough to quiet his nerves. 

Soos heaved a sigh of relief. "Thanks. I've gotta head back up now—there's a tour bus coming and I need to scare the eye-bat off with a broom so they can come in."

As Soos got on the elevator, Mabel bounded off. "Hi Soos. Grunkle Ford! I need your help. You'll never guess who's at the shack: Bill's ex-girlfriend! Whaaat!"

Ford opened his mouth. He shut his mouth. He tried again. "His ex-girlfriend."

Mabel nodded excitedly.

Ford was momentarily stunned silent as he, too, processed the revelation that Bill had a love life; although his reaction had less to do with matchmaking possibilities and more to do with trying to reconcile the eccentric, intellectual, standoffish alien that Ford knew with the concept of romance. "She doesn't happen to be an eye-bat, does she?"

Mabel's face fell. "Did he tell you about his girlfriend before me?"

Once Mabel had explained what she knew about the situation, Ford frowned. "This could be gravely dangerous. One of his 'Henchmaniacs' is a potential ally. If he catches her attention..."

"Actuallyyy," Mabel said, "he's super trying to avoid her."

Ford blinked in surprise. "What? Why?"

####

"I can't let her see me like this," Bill told Mabel, pacing across the attic floor. "I'd be a laughing stock! Look at me—stuck in a human body, powers locked away, and hideous!"

"Don't say that," Mabel said reassuringly. "You know I think you make a really beautiful human, right?"

"True, but that's like saying Caesar is delicious for a salad. It still doesn't compare to a hot fudge sundae, does it?" He pointed toward the window. "You have to hide me."

####

"So do you think you can help?" Mabel asked.

Ford reluctantly got to his feet. "I suppose there's not much choice, is there?"

"Wait—" Mabel stood in front of Ford, blocking him with her arms. "You can stay here! I just meant if you know how to make some kind of magic anti-eyeball forcefield or something! You don't have to—you know—talk to Bill..."

It was sweet of her to try to spare him. "Unfortunately, I do. I don't trust his story." Why would Bill drive away a Henchmaniac, ex or not? Maybe this "ex" was actually Bill's enemy—some sort of interdimensional bounty hunter or law enforcement officer hunting for him. Bill was too sly, too opportunistic, too manipulative to throw away a useful ally.

But then, Bill was also vain and arrogant. Once the portal was finished, how fast had he thrown Ford away?

Ford headed toward the elevator, gesturing for Mabel to follow him. "Come on. Let's find out what he's really up to."

Mabel cringed, but followed.

####

Bill's face lit up as Mabel came in from the gift shop with Ford. "Look at you, Shooting Star, you brought reinforcements!" From his position seated cross-legged on the cushionless sofa, Bill gestured grandly at the unoccupied living room chairs, like a lord inviting two guests into his parlor.

"Yeah," Mabel laughed nervously. "Reinforcements. Sure." She took the chair closer to Bill. 

Bill beamed at Ford. "Welcome back to the surface world, Stanford. If I'd thought you were coming up, I'd have made tea."

Ford remained standing. "Cut the chatter, Cipher. Why is your 'girlfriend' back on Earth attacking people? How did she get here? Is she looking for you?"

Bill's eyebrows raised in surprise at the abrupt confrontation; then he slowly leaned back in his seat, his expression cooler. "How should I know? Maybe she never left Earth."

"How? The rest of your thugs were dragged back into the Nightmare Realm when you died."

"So I've been told," Bill said dryly, glancing at Mabel like he trusted her eyewitness testimony over Ford's.

Mabel nodded. "Like they got sucked into a big invisible rainbow tornado!"

Bill spread his hands in exaggerated bafflement. "Then I don't know what to tell you. It's not like I was around to see it. Maybe she was out visiting family when you kicked out my pals."

"Of all the absurd—family? On Earth?" More likely she had been sucked out with the rest, but found her way back to Earth through—what?—a small rift they'd failed to seal that Bill was trying to cover up...? "For once in your life, why don't you give a straight answer?"

"You wouldn't know what to do with a straight answer if I did give it! You walk in looking for a fight and act like I'm the one who picked it." Bill gestured between Ford and Mabel, "You think I can't see you two trying to pull some good cop/bad cop routine?"

Defensively, Mabel said, "I'm not—!"

"I'd be happy to give you straight answers about anything you want, Stanford," Bill said, "but if you're treating this like an interrogation instead of a conversation, then I'm pleading the fifth until my lawyer gets here. And you do not want to meet my lawyer."

Bill had lost the privilege to have "conversations" years ago. But—as much as Ford hated to admit it—starting a fight was a poor way to gather information. "Fine." He forced himself to sit down. He wasn't about to be nice to Bill, but he could at least hate him civilly.

Bill made a gracious, open-handed gesture, as if to say proceed.

Now that Ford had taken a moment to turn over the idea—perhaps Bill wasn't lying about the eye-bat visiting "family." Here were two facts: there were eye-bats in Gravity Falls; and there were much larger eye-bats in the Nightmare Realm who'd been there before the dimensional portal ripped open. Ford hadn't been able to inspect Bill's variety, but... "That's another mystery I've been wondering about. What's the nature of the relationship between your eye-bats in the Nightmare Realm and ours in Gravity Falls?"

"Pfff, come on." With an air of smug intellectual superiority, Bill rolled his eye and said, "You clever little pattern-seeking humans want to find connections everywhere! Who said there's any relationship between them at all?"

"You did," Ford said.

"A few seconds ago," Mabel added.

Bill's smug look disappeared. He considered that. "Hm."

So much for getting straight answers out of Bill. He couldn't go one minute without contradicting his own lies. "Unless you're saying she was 'visiting family' because she is from Gravity Falls? Not one of your Henchmaniacs," Ford suggested. "Just some local eye-bat you mutated and magically enthralled into doing your bidding when you arrived?" Bill wouldn't like that.

And sure enough, Bill laughed harshly. "I'm flattered you think I can woo someone that fast," he said, blithely gliding past Ford's implication that mind control might have been involved, "but no. She came with me from the Nightmare Realm and we've been going out for... I don't know, a century and a half now?"

This information immediately activated the household romantic. Mabel gasped. "What! Bill that's so long! You're basically triple married."

Bill shuddered. "Yeesh, don't say that. It was a casual physical thing! We were seeing each other until we found better options, that's all. She's hot, but not my type."

"You have a type?! What's your type?"

"Don't answer that," Ford said. (Mabel pouted, but didn't argue.) "How is the same species in two places? Are the eye-bats in Gravity Falls descended from the eye-bats in the Nightmare Realm...?" But how would they have gotten in?

"Other way around," Bill corrected. "A few leaked into the Nightmare Realm from Gravity Falls. I wouldn't be so rude as to call them an invasive species, but they've taken really well to the place! I'm proud of the gals."

"But then how did the eye-bats get into the Nightmare Realm before the portal was complete? That's the whole reason you needed the portal—there was no other access."

Bill hesitated—and Ford got the sense that Bill had once again accidentally talked himself into a corner. Then there was some other passage to the Nightmare Realm, and Bill didn't want them to know about it. But what? Where else in Gravity Falls was there an opening to other dimensions?

The answer came to him before Bill had a chance to try to make up one. "The bottomless pit," Ford said. He couldn't believe he'd never made the connection before. "That's it, isn't it. The eye-bats could have fallen through. One of its exits leads to the Nightmare Realm. You said so in my journal."

There was a flash of irritation across Bill's face, and then he was all smiles. "Oh, you finally figured out that code, did you."

"Please, it was a simple substitution cipher. It wouldn't have taken me nearly so long if someone hadn't kept me sleep deprived for weeks."

Bill didn't respond to the jab—but it was clear from the way his mouth twisted that the restraint took an effort. "I'm not making any plans to jump into the bottomless pit, before you get worried." Said like somebody who had definitely considered jumping into the bottomless pit. No wonder he'd been so evasive about his eye-bats' origins. "The odds I'd actually make it back to the Nightmare Realm are way lower than the odds I'd either end up right back here or somewhere worse." 

"'The lady doth protest too much,'" Ford muttered. He'd have to find a way to seal off the pit. "Is that why the eye-bat wasn't sucked out with your other minions? It has some... ancestral, genetic link to this world—?"

"What, do you think the fabric of reality is running DNA tests to see what does and doesn't 'belong' here?" Bill scoffed. "Most universes aren't sentient and yours isn't one of the exceptions. Still, you might be on to something. Most of my guys are built on biological blueprints and laws of physics that aren't compatible with this dimension; I had to use some of my power to 'translate' between their bodies and your universe. That magic connection probably reeled them back into the Nightmare Realm. And the eye-bats were the only ones I didn't do that for."

"Really." Ford's fingers itched to pick up a pen; he wished he'd brought his journal. "If you were supporting them, why did they get sucked back through the rift when you died? Rather than just dying when your power dissipated? Was that some sort of safety measure you left in case—? No, that's not like you." In order to plan for his death, Bill needed to admit he could die. "Is the source of your power in the Nightmare Realm?"

Bill said, "Frankly, I'm taking your word for it that they survived at all. I wasn't exactly around to watch."

"You're dodging the question." Trying to get anything out of Bill was like chasing a dancing ghost while wearing lead boots. "I want an answer."

"Then ask a different question."

"Fine!" Ford had plenty of questions. If Bill wanted another one so badly— "Why did you need the interdimensional portal?"

Bill stared at Ford. "What?"

"The bottomless pit is ancient—and you clearly knew about it. If you already had an opening into Gravity Falls..."

"The pit only goes one way."

"So why didn't you build something on your end of the exit to reverse its direction? You certainly had the time to work out the science! Or—there are thousands of openings from other dimensions into the Nightmare Realm, natural and artificial alike. Why did you never use them?"

Ford had wondered for decades during his travels through the multiverse. He'd told himself he would never know, that Bill's motives were incomprehensible—ineffable like a god's, unintelligible like a madman's. But Stan had asked the same question a few days ago, and Ford hadn't been able to get it out of his head since. "If you had a trillion years to refine your plan, then why did you give me blueprints for a portal that would tear my universe apart, instead of any other design? Why here, why now? Why me?"

He expected some catty quip or a dismissive brush-off. But instead, Bill gave Ford an appraising look. A chill ran up Ford's back. Bill's face was blank now—no trace of the smirk he'd worn while tossing out contradictions and cryptic riddles—but his eyes had the same hard, heavy look he'd worn in the penthouse, talking about "liberating" his dimension. Bill asked, "Do you really want to know?"

It felt like they were back in Ford's dreams, and his fickle, wonderful muse had finally decided to stop teasing, get serious, and tell his student some precious secret. It felt like he was about to get a real answer. Ford did want to know. Of course he did.

"No."

Bill would only lie. Everything he'd ever said about the portal had been a lie.

Disappointment flickered across Bill's face.

Before an uneasy silence had a chance to fully settle over the room, Mabel shifted in her seat. Ford started; she'd gone so quiet, he'd almost forgotten she was here. "Grunkle Ford, is that everything we needed to know?" It wasn't like her to sound so timid. "We know she's not looking for Bill, she just—got stuck here last summer. Right?"

Why were they talking? "Right." The eye-bat harassing the tourists. Ford shut his eyes and took a deep breath. "And the eye-bat is from the Nightmare Realm, but it's descended from Gravity Falls' eye-bats—which means it has the same weaknesses as local eye-bats. Right?" He opened his eyes again, directing the question at Bill.

"Oh, now you're interested in what I have to say?"

"Good point; I'm not." Ford stroked his chin. "I have a recipe for an eye-bat repellant spray I learned from Old Lady Sprott, we could use that to keep it away from the shack. I wrote it down in... my first journal..." 

"Ah," Bill said. "You mean the incinerated one." He said it so coolly, like he wasn't the one who incinerated it.

"Actually," Mabel said, "after everything went back to normal, Grunkle Ford's journals got un-incinerated!"

Bill made a poor show of trying not to look surprised. "You don't say."

"Yeah, good as new! They regrew their torn pages and everything," Mabel said. "And... then we kinda chucked them into the bottomless pit."

Bill cracked up, kicking out a foot in mirth. "You what?! You idiots, don't you know you had an invaluable occult encyclopedia in your hands? The second journal alone was the most important human grimoire of the last five hundred years!"

Ford was too irritated to be flattered. What business did Bill have mocking him, thirty seconds ago Bill had thought he was the one who destroyed the journals. Ford snapped, "I didn't want to keep anything you'd tainted."

He was gratified by how fast Bill stopped laughing. "Then burn down your shack and lobotomize your hippocampus," Bill muttered. "Fine! Are we talking about the eye-bat repellant made with gnome wizz?"

Bless this insufferable, all-seeing pest; maybe he was good for one thing. "That's the one! You know the recipe?"

"That's the only ingredient I remember."

Ford mentally retracted the prior blessing. "It's the only ingredient I remember." He sighed. Maybe Old Lady Sprott had taught her son...

Bill said, "But wasn't that was back before you turned into a hermit, when you were still interviewing the human neighbors about the freaks in the woods? All those little interview notebooks—"

"Yes! That's right, I'm sure I kept them somewhere—"

"Filing cabinet under your globe. Second drawer."

Ford shot Bill a dark look.

"You're welcome," Bill said.

The insufferable all-seeing pest didn't need any blessings, he was smug enough already. Ford got to his feet. "Then as soon as I find the recipe, we can chase this eye-bat off and put this whole mess behind us."

"Finally," Bill sighed. "Always a pleasure to work on a project with you, Sixer."

Ford glared at him again; but as he turned to go, his gaze fell on Mabel. Sitting in her chair with her hands under her thighs, with that big-eyed small-mouthed look children got when the adults were talking about something they had no part in but they were paying keen attention to it anyway. Ford winced at himself. "Mabel. I'm sorry that got... a bit heated."

She gave him a small smile. "It's fine—"

"And whose fault was that?" Bill cut in. "I was being perfectly helpful."

Ford swallowed back the urge to retort. 

Mabel didn't. She blew a raspberry at Bill. "When you weren't lying to us?"

"When did I lie! Tell me one lie I told—"

Ford wasn't getting dragged into this. "I think you can handle him from here," he muttered to Mabel. "I've got work to do." He escaped back to the gift shop; but the tension in his shoulders didn't start to loosen until he was back in his study.

####

The door swung shut behind Ford; and Mabel waited a few more seconds before she said, "Sorry about that." She sighed. "I thought Grunkle Ford could think of some way to help. I didn't think he'd actually come and talk about it."

"Not your fault." Bill smiled ruefully. "He was probably looking for an excuse for another confrontation. And to think, for a moment I was excited when my old friend showed up." He sighed deeply. Oh, how poorly he was mistreated—

"What?" Mabel laughed. "What are you talking about? You're not friends—"

"Hey! Shush-shush-shush!" Bill blocked Mabel's words with a hand. "Shooting Star, I'm about to tell you something that'll put you ahead of the competition for the rest of your life. Once you've figured out lucid dreaming, go back to the library—"

"Are you about to give me more homework?"

"I'm giving you more homework. Go look up the law of attraction. Master that, change your life. If you want something to happen, the first step to making it happen is saying it's happened. Say it until you believe it; believe it until it's true. So I don't want to hear any of your negativity, buster."

A thoughtful look crossed Mabel's face as she considered that. She was such an attentive listener once you figured out what caught her attention. Best student Bill had had in eons. She'd go far. "So..." She lowered her voice. "That means you really do want to be friends with Grunkle Ford!"

"That's not what I said. I said we are friends." Bill was sure she'd pick it up. It was an easy game and she was a quick study. "Even if he clearly doesn't know it. Sixer's such a grump these days." He sighed, again. Woe was him—

"He's not that grumpy! Only around you," Mabel said.

"And how is that fair? After everything I did for him—"

"You mean everything you did to him?"

Bill shot her an exasperated look. Mabel's impish grin stretched wider. Bill said, "Whose side are you on?"

"I'm on the side of truth and tough love!"

"Oh, truth. Truth's a fickle god. Does your version of the 'truth' include all my contributions to his work that he never brings up—"

"Nope, I don't care about what you're saying!" Mabel bounded over from her chair to join Bill on the couch. "We're done talking about your dumb grudge and pretending you're not evil."

"'Pretending'—!"

"There's only one thing I'm interested in!" Mabel leaned into Bill's face. "I wanna know everything about your love life."

"Wh—?" Bill's train of thought veered off track as the conversation swung from Ford back over toward Iris. "I'm flattered by the attention, but don't you think 'everything' is a little personal?"

"Nope!" Mabel got comfortable in her seat. "So have you ever gotten married?"

This was what Bill got for being so open and forthcoming with the personal details while Ford was in the room. He'd wanted to look like he was an open book, and what happened? Now Mabel thought he was an open book. Funny how that worked out. "You don't even know if marriage is a thing where I'm from."

"Is it?"

"Next question."

"Do you want to get married?"

"Next question that isn't about marriage."

"Who do you consider the top ten most attractive people or creatures in Gravity Falls."

It was beginning to dawn on Bill that he was in danger.

####

Soos passed from the gift shop through the living room. (Mabel had put on the Color Critters Valentine's special—Prisma the Rainbow Fairy and Glory Unicorn were explaining to Misty Dolphin why it was important to give a Valentine to all your friends, even the ones you weren't as close to, because it might hurt their feelings to be left out and including everyone might make you a new friend.) Bill was sitting upside down, legs hooked over the back of the sofa and head bright red, as he said, "No, I just don't see relationships as eternal. Romance is a short term commitment. Like a fashion trend, or, or—"

"Like gum?"

Bill snapped his fingers. "Yes! Exactly like gum—"

"Hey dudes." Soos awkwardly squeezed around behind the TV to avoid blocking the screen. He looked at Bill's face and said, "Hey, all the blood's rushing to your head. Be careful, Abuelita says if you do that too long your head could pop."

"She's right," Bill said.

Mabel said, "He's making his face red on purpose so I can't tell when he's blushing."

"Not true! You little tattler!"

As he headed upstairs, Soos heard Mabel say, "So when a romance starts to lose its flavor, you just—" and Bill cut in, "You spit it on the sidewalk, grind it under your heel, and float away without looking back, never thinking about it again..."

A few minutes later, after changing out of his Mr. Mystery suit into a more comfortable question mark t-shirt, Soos headed back downstairs. Bill was still talking, "... and all you get out of it is sickly sweet spit, you're just—swallowing all this sweet spit until it makes your mouth sour and it's dripping out around your eye, and you're hungrier than if you'd never eaten at all, and all your friends say 'oh Bill, you're always griping about your gum, why don't you settle down to eat a proper meal,' and you say 'how about you mind your own business, Kryptos, I don't lecture you about your diet,' and then your other friends accuse you of choosing inedible snacks so you don't have to commit to swallowing them, because they don't get that you're a flawless energy being, you don't need 'nutrition' or 'sustenance,' this is just a hobby to you—and finally you just, you get sick of the taste of gum altogether, you never want to chew gum again as long as you live, it's always so needy and your jaw hurts, and everyone thinks it's your fault if you can't focus on chewing the stupid thing all day every day, like maybe you have a life of your own, did anyone consider that? And at this point you're so disgusted by the very idea of gum that you burn down a gum factory so you don't have to look at their stupid ads! And then an eon later you find yourself craving a stick of gum, so you find a different brand and cram a new one in."

Mabel, who'd been listening to Bill's monologue in wide-eyed stunned silence, finally smiled in relief as he landed on a familiar sentiment. She pumped her fist in the air. "Yeah! Cram a new one in!"

"You get me, kid."

Probably none of Soos's business, but he thought Bill needed to work on his relationship with gum.

He took the elevator down to Ford's study. "Sup, dawg."

"Hm?" Ford was sitting on the floor in front of an open filing cabinet, completely surrounded by skinny reporter's notebooks like the kind Abuelita used for shopping lists, intensely focused on flipping through one. "Soos. Yes?"

"How's the eye-bat problem going?"

"I'm working on it," Ford sighed. "Somewhere I have a recipe to repel eye-bats, but it's been thirty years since I've seen those notes, so..." He shrugged helplessly. "But I'll find it before I go to sleep and we'll deal with the eye-bat tomorrow."

"That'd be great. Thanks, Mr. Pines."

"In return, can I ask you to take care of something?"

"Sure, what's up?"

"Could you find a way to block access to the bottomless pit? If Bill gets outside the shack, he could use it to escape to his own dimension."

"Yeah, no problem. I've got the perfect thing for that," Soos said. "Hey, don't stay up all night, okay? I kinda think the eye-bat's attracted to bloodshot eyes."

"That's not the worst thing she's attracted to," Ford muttered. "Thank you, Soos. I won't be too late."

That was, of course, a lie.

####

(Took a week longer than planned, but it was worth it to get this hammered out properly! As always, I DEEPLY appreciate any thoughts, comments, and feedback y'all have—hearing from you guys is what saves me from feeling like I'm just shouting thousands of words into the void. Thanks for reading!)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #mabel pines #grunkle ford #stanford pines #gravity falls #gravity falls fanart #gravity falls fic #my writing #my art #bill goldilocks cipher

[the-ultimate-puppteer]

Stella Goetia with a happy go lucky S/O that likes how aggressive she is

•Okay so the two of you met right around when she was going through her divorce with Stolas

•And needless to say she was pretty aggressive and condescending towards you during your first meeting

•What shocked her was how that didn't seem to affect you at all.

•No matter what mean things she said to you or how aggressive she acted towards you you just laughed off all with a strange blush on your face

•She finally got around to asking(shouting) what you found so funny

•Your response actually flustered her leaving her speechless. You said you found her absolutely adorable and just couldn't help but giggle at how cute you found her and how you'd love to take her out on a date

•And that how the relationship between you to started

•Your relationship was a stark difference between what she had with Stolas

•For one you were always gushing over how cute you found her

•And you absolutely adored smothering her in affection not caring who was watching

•And just like before when she got flustered and insulted you her insults just slide right off of you and you'd just blush up a storm and talk about how forward she was and how you loved her too.

•Now from the outside in the relationship looked one sided but it very much wasn't as Stella loved you just as much as you loved her.

•Which was discovered when someone had the gall to court her in your presence while at a noble gathering.

•That wound up being a very humiliating experience for the Demon noble as she aggressively shot him down in a humiliating fashion, along with telling him how she was already taken by someone whose status far surpassed someone as worthless as them.

•That was the day that every demon there learned that the relationship between the two of you was very much mutual 

#helluva boss #helluva boss x reader #Stella x reader #stella goetia #stella goetia x reader

[archieimagines]

finally | cassian andor

Summary: Cassian Andor is the bane of your existence. He’s your rival in theft, always getting the good ships before you, always making more money in selling to Bix. Finally, you get there first— but of course he’d come to ruin your day.

warnings: blood, injury, needle and stitches. enemies to lovers un-enemies trope. read this to listen to me pretend to know about spaceships. word count: 3030 requested by: anon author’s note: thank you so much for this brilliant idea, anon! you may be able to tell i got carried away. i had a lot of fun with this. requests for andor are wide open! written by: archie

Finally, this one was yours.

You couldn’t help feeling a little giddy. This star yacht was definitely on the higher end of luxury, and it’d been sat unmanned on the outskirts of town for five days straight. Sure, it’d been purposely tucked away amongst sandy cliffs to hide it, but as per the general moral code, five unattended days on a ship put it on the illegal scavenger’s market. Fair’s fair. You thieves weren’t monsters, after all.

Your expert fingers worked swiftly with a wedge tool on lifting the panels from the front of the space vehicle to get at all those glorious parts inside. With a satisfying click, the central panel popped free.

The sun was just peering over the horizon to light your focus, all that treasure lit up in the golden light.

Your smile lit up too. Finally. A haul that was all yours. For once, it was so worth it to wake up before sunrise. No one to watch out for, not even that stupid, arrogant, condescending-

“What have we got here?”

You stopped in your tracks, fingers itching to get inside the engine.

That voice.

Infuriating.

He painted his words like a casual conversation. Like this was a joint effort. Like you hadn’t specifically woken up this early just to beat him to this goldmine. You’d barely slept last night for the excitement of finally bringing in a collection worth a good wad of cash, and yet he had the gall to pop up beside you and peer over your shoulder.

You reeled on him, fire in your eyes and sharp wedge in your hand. “Andor. Get out of here.”

He had the balls to laugh. He treated this so light, like you hadn’t been so determined to finally outdo him. “And leave you to carry all this back by yourself? I couldn’t possibly.” He had this irritating skill in being rude while being perfectly within his bounds. He simply reached past you without concern for your threat, rapping his knuckles lightly on various parts tucked away. “There’s a lot of good stuff here. Nice condition, too. We can’t take all of it, of course, we don’t want an angry holidaymaker stuck on our planet-”

“You’re taking none of it.”

“-But we can take the extras. Let me see…”

He bent at the waist to lean over the hole of the removed panel, reaching in and feeling around without so much as a blink at you.

That was it!

You jabbed the wedge into his ribs.

His arm retracted so quickly to protect his side, and he finally turned to you with narrowed eyes and a furrowed brow as he rubbed his side over his coat. “Agh! What the-!? What was that for?”

“Shut up, I barely touched you.” You couldn’t keep the smugness from your voice as you nudged him aside, away from your engine, and promptly took his place to rummage around inside instead. It’s true, you wanted him to feel that jab even despite his coat. It was kinda hard.

“You want it so bad that you’re gonna stab me?”

“Don’t cry on my engine, you’ll rust it.”

There was no time for this chitchat. You dipped into your belt for a different removal tool, starting work right away. You wouldn’t remove anything integral: those parts weren’t worth much anyways. But the fuel ignition stabiliser… Oh, yes. It was a luxury. Gave the journey the smoothest ride possible. No clattering, no trembling of the ship. It’d be four or five thousand credits, easily.

If only it wasn’t so damn hard to remove.

You were hyper aware of Andor watching your every move, even if you were shoulder deep inside the machine. His stare didn’t make reaching around components easier in the slightest, and your arm was bent at an awkward and supremely uncomfortable angle- but you wouldn’t let him know that. He’d just take over, for sure.

But when the corner of your palm nicked on sharp metal, you couldn’t hide the wince.

“Look, you’re going to injure yourself. Let me. Move over.”

“Not likely.”

“I’ve been doing this longer than you. I can easily-”

“Exactly! So you should give someone else a chance.” You tried not to let your voice strain from the effort of pulling out the stabiliser, especially with the fresh scratch to your palm. This was not easy, and he was really just making you frantic with his presence.

“Whenever I give you a chance, something ends up damaged!” Ah, there it was. That familiar exasperation, delivered with a growl in his accent. This was the Andor you knew best-- the one that hated you right back.

You paused, face turned to glare up at his impatient eyes. “Sir. I don’t damage shit.”

“If that makes you feel better. Come on, just-” His fingers reached into the hatch and closed around your forearm, a gentle squeeze and tug to your limb.

That was it. You saw red.

“Don’t you manhandle me- AH!” You whipped your arm out to shove him back a pace-- But it caught nastily on that jagged piece of metal. It snagged down the side of your palm, causing a deep, pulsing gash. There was no way you could shove him back with that hand.

Your face paled as you dropped your tool and blinked at the thick ooze of red that trickled down the side of your wrist, quickly soaking your sleeve. It stung like nothing you’d handled before, eyes watering, head pounding. You couldn’t help but stare at it, trembling.

But Andor was on it. He wasted no time in ripping along the bottom of his shirt for a makeshift bandage, wasted no time in chastising you. “Dank farrik, you really-! You’ve outdone yourself this time.”

“Me!? This was all you!”

“Oh, don’t give me that.” Skilled hands wound the bandage around your cut far too tightly to be comfortable, and you winced. But he paid no mind, quiet in his concentration as he worked. His aura had changed, as if his head was now cut off from communication. He was too focused, brimming with a panic that he kept silent.

Something told you there was no speaking to him now. Even if you tried to reason that you’d had so much worse many times, his tunnel vision was fixed on stenching the bloodflow. He tied the bandage off, clasping your hand firmly in both of his, raised between your faces to make sure it was above your heart. You had to actively try not to yelp from the pain of his care, but something about the urgent responsibility he demonstrated was so sincere.

He really was doing his best for you. You almost felt bad for blaming him.

His eyes were so focused, his lips pressed together in a concentrated line. There was no trace of that demeaning, condescending asshole you were used to. Something about this… Hm. Perhaps he wouldn’t be a terrible-

No, don’t think like that, you chastised yourself, peeling your gaze from his face. You couldn’t let yourself see him like that. He’d made your life hell for years.

Though the pain was dulled with the pressure of his hold, you were far from fine. The blood may have slowed, but it soaked the ends of his own sleeves now, too, and continued to spread.

“Let’s get you back home. You need medical attention.”

“But the stabiliser-”

“No. Home. Let’s go.” He didn’t drop your hand as he took a step away, leading you back towards the centre of the town, but you dug your heels into the sand.

“No, just- Quickly! You do it, we can go half-”

He jerked you close, face leaning to yours. Your eyes grew wide at this proximity- he’d never been this close before. The warm hues of his eyes caught the rising sunlight, lashes casting delicate shadows over his irises.

Despite how your memories always painted him, they were kind eyes. Honest ones. It was his furrowed brows that reminded you how sharp his will was, and the growl of his accent rolled over his words as he hissed.

“Listen to me. There will be more ships, but there will not be more hands. I’m taking you home, and for once you’re not going to argue with me.”

The bleeding had finally stopped by the time he’d taken you to his home. Certainly, you’d have preferred some professional medical care, but this would have to do. Besides, it’s not like what you were doing to get this gash was particularly legal.

He settled you onto the couch before bustling around you, picking up supplies and towels and wipes as he went, soon appearing beside you with a tray of items to help, including a bowl of fresh water and…

“A needle? There’s no chance. You’re not stitching me up, Andor.”

“I am. Bee, come over here.”

A squat little red box rattled to life from the other side of the room and rolled up to Andor’s feet on treads, clattering the whole way. “C-C-Cassian! That was much q-quicker than usual.”

“I didn’t get the parts. There was an accident.” Andor placed the tray atop the droid’s flat head and the circle lens turned to you instead, honing in on the blood.

“Oh n-n-no, there has been bodily damage to your friend. I can aid.” The droid either ignored your grumble of something about ‘not friends’ or just didn’t receive it. It let a hatch fall open, revealing a collection of packaged gauzes. You marvelled at his endearingly happy disposition, despite the broken antiquity of his model, obvious wiring problems, and living with this man. You already knew you liked him more than Andor.

“Thanks, Bee,” the man said, surprisingly gentle hands taking your arm. He was clean now, coat removed and hands sanitised to peel open the soaked fabric wrapped around your wound. It stuck to your arm hairs from how it’d begun to dry and you winced as it tugged from your skin, but this didn’t knock his concentration.

He eyed the open injury for a moment in silence. The soft sounds of the city waking up outside was muffled against the windows, the bell sounding for the residents to begin their day. And yet, you’d already had too much of this man for the whole week.

But, he was doing you a favour. So, you pressed your lips into a line and arched a brow as he investigated your wound like it was life or death, even though you honestly found the aching sting pretty manageable. You tried to keep your patience in line, you really did. But it was almost like he was specifically taking as long as he could. “You gonna do something about it or not, Andor?”

The sharpness of your tone didn’t bother him in the slightest. “Cassian,” he said.

“What?”

“Just call me Cassian. It’s not like you don’t know me.” He was so matter-of-fact as he spoke, turning away to dunk a clean cloth into the bowl of warm water, and you had to briefly wonder if he had no idea that you hated him.

Pft, of course he knew. But he really chose not to entertain it. He belittled it, even. Somehow, that made you hate him even more.

“I don’t know you.”

He let a trickle of water drip from the rag, holding it over the wound along your palm to loosen up the dried blood; the sting earned a hiss from you, but he didn’t bat an eyelid. “We’ve been bumping into each other since we were teenagers. I know where you live and you’re in my house right now. My mother knows your name. You know me.”

Okay, that was true. You searched for a way to dispute him, but you had nothing. Andor really knew how to- Cassian. Cassian really knew how to talk people into a corner. Infuriating.

“Fine.”

“You should say it.”

“Say what?”

“My name.”

You blinked at him, but he didn’t look at you. He was ridiculous. Methodical as ever, he dipped the cloth back into the water before closing it properly around the side of your palm with a wet squeeze.

A sharp stab of pain.

“Ow, Cassian! Gentle!”

His gaze finally raised to yours, and there was a cheeky light to them that matched the slightest upward quirk of his lips. He’d done that on purpose. “Quiet. Maarva’s sleeping.”

“You’re an ass.”

“So you always tell me.”

You let that one slide, quietly amused.

Somehow, it felt like a bubble had burst as he continued cleaning your wound. He was gentle with you, focused but not nearly so intense, and an easy silence lapsed between the two of you. The negative energy had given out into something else-- Somehow, you couldn’t find it in you to be at his throat like before. You must’ve upgraded to handling Cassian instead of Andor, you mused.

His eyes flashed up to yours, seeking any pain. You held his gaze for the shortest moment before turning it back to your wound, somehow embarrassed to look into the uncharacteristic tenderness of those windows. Satisfied that he wasn’t hurting you, he continued with delicate dabs.

Perhaps you’d made up Andor, this arrogant, cold asshole who’d been your rival for eons; Now, you were seeing past it. Seeing the human he actually was. Perhaps not flaunting of his kind nature, perhaps a little guarded, but peaceful. Cheeky, but by no means cruel.

You watched his hands work expertly with yours. One held your hand, thumb linked with yours, the other so careful with the cut running towards your pinky finger. They were a worker’s hands, a little calloused and rough in handling, but you could easily see how gentle he was trying to be. Taking it slow and steady, careful not to hurt.

“Okay, it’s clean. Can I stitch it?” Those eyes on yours again. Deep but cautious. He reached for the needle, medical thread already attached, and showed it to you.

You swallowed and peered down to the gash. Ah, it really was a deep one, it’d scar for sure. It needed all the help it could get. “You know what you’re doing?”

He nodded, the ghost of a laugh to his voice as he recalled his tens of incidents. “I have done this many times.”

“... Be careful.”

He got to work instantly, taking your hand in his and turning the cut upwards, holding it firm to keep it still. He glanced at the tip of the needle, brought it to your flesh and--

You couldn’t watch. You focused instead on his crown of messy hair. Warm brown, some strands lifted to look golden in the shine of the morning light. You could so easily reach out and touch it, see if it was as soft as it loo-

The prick of pain from the needle. You winced, but tried hard to be still for him, desperately focusing your attention on how those gorgeous locks might fall through your fingers if you touched them, how they’d differ to the coarser hair of his beard in your touch.

You gave a sigh. It was happening. You couldn’t push it away anymore.

People had told you for years that you clearly had a crush on this man, and you were adamant that you did not. He’d been the bane of your existence. He was the worst part of salvaging and stealing components. If you bumped into him, it’d ruin your whole day and you wouldn’t be able to shake him from your thoughts for hours. His annoying tone of voice, the haughty way he’d offer to help you.

But that wasn’t the truth. You’d always painted it so negatively, always convinced yourself that’s what it was. Hate. But honestly, you just never wanted to give into what you hated to admit.

And now, here, on his couch with a B2 unit watching, he’d shattered your narrative to pieces.

You felt things for him, and not in the way you wanted.

“And… Done.” He reached aside for scissors to cut the thread, dabbed a clean, dry cloth to any specs of blood that tried to seep out, and scrutinised his work. “That wasn’t so bad, was it? You did well.”

His eyes fixed on you again, relieved and expectant. He was so genuine. How hadn’t you seen it before?

You cleared your throat and diverted your eyes to your hand, inspecting his repairs. It really did look good. The gash was pulled closed and the stitches were evenly spaced and clean; a professional couldn’t have done it much better.

“Hm. Not quite as terrible as I’d expect.” Your words were softer than your usual insults. You couldn’t find it in you right now to be sharp.

But even so, he gave a low chuckle. “You’re welcome. Let me cover it.” He took a packaged gauze from the droid’s hatch and tore it open with his teeth-- A shock to your tummy told you that you found it attractive. It was lucky he was engrossed with attaching it to your wound, or he would’ve caught the way your ears flushed pink.

Quick moments passed, and he sat up straight with his lips caught in a kind smile. “Good as new.”

Your hand still rested in his. You were hyper aware of the warmth of it, the feeling of his skin, and it took everything in you not to disturb the moment with the indulgent caress you craved, in case he let go.

This was too hard. You hadn’t banked on facing something like this when you woke up this morning. You shared a reluctant smile.

His demeanour changed instantly. His eyes flickered between your palm and your face, words urgent with worry. “What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing, Cassian. Do you think the yacht is still there?”

“It might be.”

You sighed inwardly. Perhaps it was finally time to let go of your grudge and see him for who he was.

You shone a daring smile, a buzz in your veins at the prospect of calling an end to your rivalry.

“... Wanna go half with me?”

#cassian andor imagine #cassian andor x reader #andor imagine #rogue one imagine #cassian x reader #cassian andor #andor #diego luna #diego luna imagine #diego luna x reader #star wars #star wars imagine #written by archie #cassian andor one shot

[lizhrs]

thinking of king barbarian bakugo with childhood friend y/n who’s slipping away from him

For most of his life, you’ve been the only constant.

Everyone else has left, either died in war or decided his brash personality isn’t enough to stick around and deal with. Those who stay do so out of obligation. He’s their king, they have no choice but you—you actually like him.

You roll your eyes at the insults he throws, giggle at the new nicknames he creates for the people that annoy him and almost stare at him with endearment when he complains about something. He knew you would never leave him, that you would always be there.

His position always had him traveling. If he wasn’t on the battlefield with his men, he was across the country, challenging another tribe leader for their land. And he would always win. Always come back to you more powerful than before with a little souvenir from all the places he’s now claimed.

He didn’t think this time would be so different. Didn’t expect to come home with a gold necklace made specifically for you only to see one already around your neck, one with initials that certainly weren’t your own.

An engagement jewel.

Someone had proposed to you in the three months he was gone and you had the audacity to say yes. Agree to give your life and love—love that was only supposed to be reserved for him to someone else. He abandons his men, most of them too tired from walking hundreds of miles to care as he marches through the bustling crowd.

You’re in front of an old lady, deep in through as you examine the herbs she’s selling. You sense him though, quickly looking up as you hear the thunderous footsteps moving towards you. “Katsuki!” You grin, waving at him.

The gall you have to smile, to greet him like nothing is wrong. Like you haven’t just ripped his heart out of his chest and stomped over it. Years of pining, of keeping his love for you buried deep inside of him out of consideration for you. You two would have no life while he was always leaving, going off to fight some pompous hag who thought they could move onto his territory. He had thought you would wait for him, wait until he conquered most if not all of the neighboring villages. Wait until he was too powerful for even the strongest of men to touch him. Until he was worthy enough to have you, to protect you.

He must’ve been such an idiot. Thinking of you fondly while you were warming some man’s bed. “The fuck is this?” He grunts, eyeing your necklace.

Your eyes widen, hands going to touch the piece of junk. “O-oh. Yeah…that.” You giggle.

“You’re engaged? I’m gone for three months and you’re fuckin’ engaged.”

You purse your lips, seeming actually surprised. “I thought you’d be happy.”

He scoffs, not thinking twice as he grabs the necklace, ripping it from your pretty little neck. “Happy? That ya opened up your legs for some fucker?” He throws it to the ground, not caring about the horrified look on your face

“What the hell is your problem?!”

People are starting now.

This is not how today was supposed to go.

He was supposed to come home, melt into your arms and you both would enjoy the feast his people would throw for his newest achievement.

But you had to go and ruin it all.

“I’m not allowing this.” He grits through teeth.

Your mouth falls open, eyes glaring at him with unabashed ferocity he’s never seen before. “You can’t do that.”

“I’m King. I can do whatever the fuck I please and you’re not marrying the arrogant fucker I’m about to kill for thinking he had the right to take what is mine.”

“Yours?” You repeat, laughing a little too bitterly. “I’m not yours, you condescending fuck. And I can marry whoever the hell I please.” You shove him away, bending down to pick up the necklace.

You stand back up, closer than before. Skin dangerously inches away from his. He stares at your lips, at the plump, mouth watering image, he almost has half a mind to stroke it.

He would sell his soul for a chance to taste it.

“I don’t know what happened on that little trip of yours but you better fix your attitude before I allow you to meet my fiancé.” You huff, walking past him with another shove to the shoulders.

He laughs, trying to quell the burning rage in his chest. His fingers itch, they burn to destroy whatever man you decided was better than him. He’ll kill him. He has no doubt about that, ram his fist into his face until there’s nothing left but mush and bones. Probably mount whatever is left of him on his outer walls, to show you that no one is good enough.

No one but Katsuki.

#katsuki bakugo x reader #yandere bakugo katsuki #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #katsuki bakugo #katsuki x y/n #katsuki x reader #katsuki x you #bakugo yandere #bakugo fic #mha fic

[floradinterlunium]

OBSERVATION

ThSo I recently was involved in a pretty heated debate with a Taekooker. I know we are “told” don’t engage but I’m like why the hell not?!??!?! Why do we always have to take the high road??!? Why should we allow them to come into our spaces, spew their lies and garbage and stay silent?!? Absolutely not!

I was watching a recent Jikook video on Youtube and this wolf came in spewing Taekook propaganda and when I tell you I’ve never laughed so hard in my entire life...I’ve never laughed so hard in my entire life. The amount of fake info their shared was actually insane.

False Claim #1

First, they claimed that in this moment (3:32-3:40) JM actually asked JK “are you happy because of Kim Taehyung?” Not “ Are you happy because of me?” which made JK blush.

 (Now please note that they sent me the untranslated version).

And when I corrected and told them JM actually asked if JK was happy because of “him” they responded saying I need to get my ears fixed because in “what world does Kim Taehyung sound like me.” I was gobsmacked by this because...what??!  This idiot literally thought that the Korean word for me (na) and the English word for me were the same LOL. I mean I went to town on this girl. 

I could not understand how someone could be so boldly stupid. When I replied I not so kindly expressed my dismay for her stupidity, “In what world does the Korean word for me, which is “na” sound like the English word for me? I am actually shocked by your stupidity...you can’t even speak Korean but here you are parading around like you know what the hell you are talking about?! Next time watch real content with English subs before coming to our channels spewing BS.” The gist of my response.

Now I thought she had seen the light because she actually responded saying, “I had no idea he said “Me” and Not “Kim Taehyung.” I mean you’d think she’d see the light because the moment she used to justify her belief in Taekook actually proved to be a Jikook moment. But no. This lot is committed to following an obvious lie. A day later she came back spewing more nonsense!

False Claim #2

She then made another false claim. She claimed that Taekook were real because he was suuuppper happy to be on his team in BV. She never specified which BV but I knew she didn’t know what she was talking about. There hasn’t been a BV in which JK was Happy to be with a team member other than JM.

Side note: Taekookers do not realize the depth of Knowledge Jikookers have. They don’t realize that we like watch everything and have the memories of Elephants. They can’t come at us with made up facts because we have the receipts, the dates, and the quotes memorized by heart. We are psychotic like that! So this girl did not realize that when she came at us with her vague facts and made up translations she was about to be destroyed.

So I responded of course in a very condescending way because her linking me a video that proved Jikook and not Taekook made her lose all credibility and she didn’t deserve my respect. I was like girl

 “the gall of you to come back so bold after sending me a video that shot your taekook theory is asinine but if you want to continue lets. First Get your facts straight...pretty sure you don’t mean BV because in BV s1 we have JK begging to share a bed with JM and then JK opting to share a couch with JM instead of his own bed. In BV S2 we have JK gushing to be randomly paired with JM to find their way to their hotel. Then losing a challenge to share a room with JM. You can’t mean BV S3 because JK was viscerally upset to have to share a room with Tae and even got mad at JM when he hinted at where JK’s room was. And You definitely don’t mean BV S4 because we have JK admitting to the fact that for the months off he never spoke to or saw any member other than Jimin and Hobi. So you don’t mean BV. I think what you mean is Summer Package 2018. But even then you’re wrong. Probably because you don’t watch full content and you don’t watch it in English. LOL”

For reference this is the moment she was referring to (1:58-2:14) there’s more to this scene like JK getting happy at the end to be on the team he’s on but it’s clipped out. She didn’t share with me any more clips but by her description I knew this was what she was talking about. 

You see because she doesn’t watch original content or anything with English subtitles she thought JK was happy to be on a team with Tae. She didn’t realize the context. The context was Jk wanted to be on a team with JM (we know this because as Tae was begging him to choose his team, Hobi was like just choose that team, referencing JM’s) but he didn’t want to be on a team where he had to go and pet the sting rays. We know as much because as he’s jumping for joy when the group activities were revealed he says he’s happy he didn’t get sting rays. He wasn’t happy to be with Tae he was happy to get the adventure package he got. 

The danger of only watching Ship videos is that you don’t get full context. This applies to all ship videos taekook and Jikook. Now Jikook videos by and large include context and show you exactly how things are...they don’t add context that doesn’t exist. 

False Claim #3

The girl refused to acknowledge this time she was wrong and just went on tirade of “Okay, you got 2016-2019...I’ll take 2020-2023 any days. Jikook is ancient history now is the time of Taekook.” 

GIRL WHAT! LOL Did she forget Hickey gate, Ear sucking, my favorite thing is waking up seeing Jungkookie, etc...all happened within her supposed Taekook era timeframe. Also, is she calling JK a man hoe...he’s just jumping around from band member to band member...he was with JM but now wit TAe? 

You see how they so willy nilly switch up narratives. At first she was arguing that Taekook have always been real but now they became real in 2020?? I don’t know where 2020 came from because they were still crickets then but okay LOL

But here’s her next false claim...another commenter brought up In the Soop discussion where TAe and Jk were forced to have a sit down conversation about how they’d grown apart for years, like since 2015 and now things were awkward between them. This girl said it was all scripted and wasn’t real but even if it was real 10 minute convo should change all that we see and know to be real and true.

I of course responded what proof do you have that, that convo was scripted? Or are you just believing that because that conversation disproves everything you believe about Taekook? Because you want to know why I know the convo was real, from 2015 to 2020 Taekook were obviously distant there was no content. Every time they were together is was crickets...on numerous occasions Tae complained that JK ignored him. JK even once said all love was loss (in BV S2). Their words and events match up. Also what I see in Taekook is nothing other than platonic friends because they’ve never done anytign exclusive. Literally every moment you use as proof is either a Jikook moment or out of context. You have nothing. 

False Claim #4

Now at this point I was shocked that they were still responding because why wouldn’t they just crawl back into their taekook dungeon of lies? But alas they responded back. “ I’m surprised you didn’t bring up “get out of your imagination comment. You guys looove to bring that up but you don’t even know how to read because Tae was telling the girl to get out her imagination about JK because she was saying ways she sleeps is look at photos of JK

I mean I found her comment quite the comedic relief because here she is telling me I can’t read when she started our convo linking me a video that she clearly didn’t understand because it disproved Taekook but okay! I simply responded by quoting word for word what Tae and the OP said.

Tae Asked: What are/ who has ways to fall asleep?

OP: Me, look at photos of JJungkook oppa who tae-oppa loves.

Tae responded; Get out of your imagination, it’s not good in there.

Now I don’t see how Tae could not think this was a shipper responding...and he shut them down. Only a moron would think that Tae would not read that as OP implying that he could sleep by looking at JK. But whatever.

Guy Taekookers are morons that refuse to follow logic. They refuse to admit their ship is a lie and man....I legit think they don’t ever look at real content and they don’t “need” english subs...they just let the analysis vids do the talking. 

They are insane but I engage them because I am not going to allow them to spew BS freely and think they run this place. They are a ship of lies and hate and they need to be brought down more than a few pegs. Also I feel bad for Tae. 

Imagine most of your fans only stanning you because of your looks and who they think and hope you sleep with. This is why his feed is boring! He has nothing but annoying shippers. 

#jikook #kookmin #ship of lies #jungkook #jimin

[burned-lariat]

If there's someone I 100% don't feel bad for here, it's Josslyn Jacks.

The second she found out that the walking dildo she calls a "boyfriend" was planted by Michael to take Sonny down, she was all in. In fact, she was more enthralled by it than those two. So much so that she threw Morgan's death (which had zero to do w/ Sonny mind you) in her own mother's face when said mother had enough sense to shut the operation down. She was all for upending not only her life, but her family's life for some dick. It's insane.

And she's grown up in the mob life. Granted, she was shielded and pampered and only had about one real brush against mob violence, but she was in it nonetheless. One would think she'd know the risks of digging too deep into it and crossing the kingpin, but apparently not. She knew Dex was an anti-Sonny plant, she knew that if he was found out, he'd be a goner. And then, even when Dex "switched sides," she knew (or should've known) that Sonny demands loyalty from the jump, which Dex didn't have and doesn't anyway because he works for the Bensons first. And what does she do? Cry.

She has spent this whole fiasco villainizing and demonizing Sonny for how he lives and treats people, how he'll kill Dex for being a traitor and how they have to hide to protect their "love." And then, when Sonny didn't give a fuck like she hoped he would, she got pissy about that too. Just like she got pissy that Cameron found out about her cheating, where she threatened him and belittled him for having the gall to be hurt...since he was the victim of her betrayal.

These writers are Benson fans; we know that to be true. And like any bad writers, they coddle and shield their favorites and twist other people in knots to make them look good. Consequences don't apply to Joss. To her, Sonny is the issue, and her and Dex's role in going against Sonny was just them being correct. And like I said in my prior rant, the show will do everything they can to make us believe that.

This whole story has really demonstrated the absolute NADIR that Joss has hit, and mind you, she was NEVER some amazing character or someone worth liking or rooting for. She's always been self-righteous and bitchy and condescending, but this story has turned all of that up to 11. Her family comes second to sex, her friends come second to sex, everything in her life comes second to sex. She's doing all this whining and crying and bitching over couch coitus. There's nothing likable about that.

#general hospital #part 2 of my formal rants #can you tell i don't like this bitch? #she did a bad thing and dex leaving is her consequence #ofc sonny is a demon but in this story he is the victim #which is crazy to say but still

[name-that-isnt]

Wait‼️ I do still have stuff left to say

I both like and dislike how vaati's level of respect for ezlo was changed in the mc manga. Vaati regularly addresses ezlo as master in the manga, but he never does so in the game (aside from referring to ezlo as his old master when he first encounters him with link). I like this change because it makes him feel more human. Despite his ill will towards ezlo, he still sees him as someone to be respected deep down (or maybe calling him master is a habit acquired from living with him so long)

I simultaneously dislike this change from the game to the manga because I feel like it lessens vaati's overall impact as a villain. Him being unapologetically condescending towards ezlo and refusing to ever truly address him as master anymore in the game speaks volumes about how much vaati really hates ezlo (and it's also a good source of hc fuel for what happened between them). Sure making him more emotionally human is nice, but I think one of vaati's main appeals is that he doesn't want to be like that, he'd rather conquer the world and watch people suffer than be below someone else. So him vocally still having some degree of respect for ezlo in the manga makes his actions and the anger behind them feel,, petty? Childish? Like it was just a small bout of dissatisfaction without a true cause for anger. In contrast, him making his detestation of ezlo very clear in the game conveys that there really was a reason for him to be mad, and I think that's what manga vaati really lacks. Real anger. Real motivation. A true sense of hatred and the gall to fully disrespect anyone that isn't himself. Ffs, his reasoning for being evil in the manga involves him seeking approval from ezlo, it almost feels woobifying

The mc manga overall really softens up vaati and takes away any real intimidation factor he could've had. It's kinda confusing that they gave him a redemption, considering that he still returned in the fs manga. It's almost like simply telling him that he did wrong and putting him back in the same home situation he was in before didn't do anything to help him. And the fact that ezlo didn't change at all and just said that everything he'd done was out of "tough love",, it feels like no lesson was really learned. Tbf ezlo didn't really change in the game either, but something about the way it's handled in the manga just pisses me off a little more 🤏🏽

This ended up getting kinda off track but basically what I'm saying is that vaati's manga characterization.. has its ups and downs (mostly downs, but his manga sorcerer design being better than his canon sorcerer design balances it out lol)

#vaati #loz #i prefer my fictional men bloodthirsty and arrogant and *actually* threatening so i'm a bit biased in favor of game vaati #“threatening” and he's like 2 pixels tall lmao #🧿 #🛡️

[blairwaldcrf]

Last Line of 2023

tagged by @kiwiana-writes ❤️ ty!

gonna put more than a line for the hell of it, but if this gets enough attention I might post the first chapter next week, we'll see. I'm trying to be good about finishing published multichapters before publishing more so that would be a backslide.

ANYWAY without further ado, here's another kanthony/bridgerton! firstprince au

The man clears the wall so smoothly that Alex is impressed against his will, finding himself grinning in response as the other rider pauses only to shoot a one-second smirk back before turning forward and riding on. Then Alex's pride rears its ugly head as he thinks of the unfairness of it all. He refuses to examine exactly why he immediately finds a way to chase after the man other than to explain away to his nagging subconscious that it's simply to defend his own reputation.  It doesn't take long.  “Are you really so unfamiliar with losing that you had to chase me down?” Alex scoffs, only briefly proud that he'd assumed right the need to find the man and argue. Of course the man was English, surely some stuffy, classist prick visiting America to look down on anyone unfitting of white eurocentric standards. Anyone who didn't look like a Greek model who belonged carved out of white stone and preserved to be gawked at in a royal museum for its beauty. “There was nothing to lose, you can't silently declare a race based on assumptions--” “Ah, yes, I suppose it wasn't a race since you couldn't keep up.” The man isn't quite smirking now, but there's a pinched corner of his mouth that suggests one is only just barely being held back, as if this is all some amusing game.  “Regrettably, beating you wasn't worth the risk of having to put my horse down for a broken leg.” Alex tries to make his glare as cold as possible but is fairly sure he fails in the face of such striking blue eyes. He'd rather not think about it. “But if you'd like to try a fair match, I will make the time.” The mysterious man has the unmitigated gall to laugh. “You believed what is clearly a riding horse couldn't make the jump? Or you knew you couldn't stomach the risk without spooking the horse?”  Alex gapes, not proud of the way his mouth actually falls a bit open at the bravado.  Instead the man offers another shy yet condescending smile, and mutters a barely loud enough “Good day” before he rides away without any proper introduction.

tagging the usual crowd, pls tag me if you do it!

#writing tag #going back to sleep with nyquil now #wish me luck

[justmenoworries]

I haven’t seen anyone else mention it so far, but:

Hecate is a horrible character.

She’s supposed to be Hades’ sassy best friend, the one who pulls him away from bad decisions and tells it to everybody like it is. But the Way Smythe writes her she comes across more like an entitled asshole who uses ‘being honest’ as an excuse for being rude.

Her attitude towards people is condescending at best and dismissive and contemptious at worst. She ignores stuff like Thanatos being abused by Hades as a child or Minthe’s declining mental health, then has the gall to basically call them whiners when they come to her with legit complaints about the way Hades is running the company.

She completely endorses Hades going after an under-aged girl and even encourages it, nevermind that Hades already has a girlfriend at the time.

She ignores Demeter when Demeter tells her about fertility goddesses and doesn’t even look into it like she’d promised she would despite there being legit evidence that what Demeter is saying is true. Friendly reminder that Kronos taking over could have been prevented if Hecate had bothered to get off her lazy selfish ass for once, but nooo she has her own life, no time to investigate on a matter of possibly life and death.

And she’s an awful friend to Hades.

She slaps Hades around when she first hears of him maybe having a crush on Persephone without knowing if it’s even true or not. She spurns Hades on when he’s about to tear a poor kid’s eye out and afterwards takes zero responsibility for her role in the whole affair. The only time I can think of when she was behaving like a friend should is the time when she protected Hades from Minthe but even then the very next scene she’s suddenly MIA. The implication being she just...dumped Hades somewhere and then went on her merry way. Instead of, you know. Staying and seeing if he needs something after having something so horrible and traumatic happen to him.

So tl:dr Hecate is an awful person and an even more awful friend. But the story pretends like she’s this amazing voice of reason, when she is anything but and has only ever been enabling Hades’ worst traits and ignoring people when they needed her.

#anti lore olympus #lore olympus critical #lo critical

[butterfirefly]

2. Eight Years Ago

“So let me get this straight,” Yoojin began as he stared at his brother over their dining table, his breakfast lying forgotten before him. Well, no. Not forgotten. He was actually contemplating on upending his bowl of cereal over his dear little brother’s head—maybe dousing him with milk would shock some sense into him. “You want to prove to the world that EOs exist. By turning yourself into one.”

Yoohyun had the gall to continue spreading butter onto his toast in slow, rhythmic motions, utterly composed in the face of his older brother’s rising temper. Yoojin itched to whack him with his spoon.

“I’m not gonna stay dead for long, hyung. It’ll only be for a little while; just until you resuscitate me.”

“Oh, I will now, will I?” Yoojin asked sweetly, sarcasm dripping off his words like poisoned honey. “And what makes you think I’ll even let your heart stop beating in the first place? Tell me honestly, Yoohyun-ah,” he said, leaning in close to his infuriatingly serene brother. “Are you high?”

That got him to look up from his toast. “I’m not on drugs, hyung.”

“Then why are you spouting nonsense?”

“I’m not,” Yoohyun said with a frown.

“You finally found a scientific journal about them then?” Yoojin asked sarcastically—they both knew there was no such thing.

Yoohyun clenched his jaw. “An online forum. But this one’s the real deal, hyung. The people there are not some crazy theorists living in their parents’ basements or whatever else you think they are.”

“And how do you know that? Did they give proof? Documents? A video of them succeeding in turning themselves into EOs perhaps?”

“No, but there are—”

“So you’re telling me,” Yoojin ruthlessly interrupted. “You want to try turning yourself into an EO by following instructions you might as well have found on Wikihow? Instructions on how to commit suicide? Get real, Yoohyun-ah!”

“Don’t you want to prove that we were telling the truth?!” Yoohyun exploded, surprising Yoojin with the heat of his words. “That we weren’t just making something up to rationalize what happened because we couldn’t accept reality? That Mom and Dad really were killed by someone with superpowers, and not by some freak accident? Don’t you want justice for them?”

Yoojin was entirely unmoved. “Heck no! Not if it meant endangering yourself. Nothing is ever worth that risk. You’re not suggesting to use other test subjects, Yoohyun-ah—it’s your life you want to put on the line here, and that’s not gonna happen,” Yoojin said with finality. “I forbid it.”

“So, what?” Yoohyun challenged. “You’re saying I should just use someone else and test it out on them?”

Yoojin scoffed. “Of course, not. That’s called attempted murder, baby bro, or outright murder if you fail—which you most likely will—and I’m not too keen on losing you to jail, either.”

Yoojin met Yoohyun’s glare head-on, uncaring that the knuckles of his hand holding the butter knife was steadily turning white—calling him that while acting condescending was sure to incite his docile brother’s elusive anger, but he knew without a doubt that Yoohyun would first saw his hand off before he’d ever raise it against him. Not wanting to rile him up any further, Yoojin sat back against his chair and spoke softly but firmly.

“You know what I think? I think you should forget about other people. Who cares if they believe we made it up? They’re nothing to you and me. And if you really want justice for our beloved parents who took such good care of us—” Yoojin ignored the twinge in his chest when he saw Yoohyun flinch. “I’ll find that freak for you and kill him myself.”

Yoohyun searched his eyes for something—honesty? Resolve? Both were very much present, and Yoojin was only too willing to lay them bare for his brother to peruse—then looked down on his plate without another word. The two sat in tense silence for the rest of the morning till Yoojin was forced to get ready for his class that started earlier than Yoohyun’s, leaving Yoohyun stewing at the dining table. Just before stepping outside their apartment, Yoojin called out to him and waited till Yoohyun was looking at him before he spoke.

“And just so we’re clear, Yoohyun-ah,” he said solemnly, letting him know with his tone that he meant every word. “You do anything to yourself and I’ll do it to me, too. See you after school.”

Note: in case anyone's unfamiliar with the Villains series which this is based off of, ExtraOrdinaries or EOs are humans who have superpowers but are basically the embodiment of the meme "died and came back wrong". Pretty much every single one of them is a sociopath to some degree, much like S-classes.

Next chapter

#can you tell I like moon!yoojin? because I like moon!yoojin very much. #as for yoohyun: I seem to like giving him a different personality till SomethingTM happens that turns him closer to his canon self #bff writes #sclassvicious

[psalacanthea]

Dissonance and Debauchery: The Drama of an Ill-Fated Bard- Ch: 13

A new chapter of the Baldur’s Gate 3 fic is up!  In which Zynatheri’s worst habits come back to bite her in the ass, leaving her with no support as they prepare to delve into the place she hates and fears more than anything-- the Underdark.

...

Astarion slowly glanced over his shoulder, his scarlet eyes pinning hers as they met, brilliant rubies that gleamed with a shocking intensity.

Every single one of her senses was screaming danger, and she inadvertently staggered back.  Before she could compose herself, he fixed her with an icy stare.  It was an ordinary sort of annoyance on his face, if not for the way her instincts were clamoring.  

“What?” he asked, voice unreadable.

Ugh, she was too sick for this.  “Whatever it is you want so you stop throwing a tantrum over likely nothing, just tell me so I can give it to you.”

“I beg your–”  Astarion’s shocked laughter cut off, and his voice hardened.  “Right, of course.  You’ve never done anything wrong, have you?  Just go away.”

“Okay, I don’t know what this charade is, but I don’t think it’s very fair after all day annoying me by poking and prodding at me that you turn around and dismiss me.  Please just tell me what to say so this can be over!”  she groaned, pushing her hands into her forehead.  Why did he keep making this complicated?

“Annoying you?  Was that what I was doing?”  Astarion asked, voice full of scornful laughter.

“I kept telling you to stop!” she protested, throwing up her hands.  There was an edge to this conversation that was arguing, not banter, and she didn’t like it.  It should have been bickering.  Bickering was much better than…this.

“And you were the one who told me that stop doesn’t mean stop.”

Zyn’s brain momentarily stopped working.  Okay, well, yes, but…  “That obviously only referred to sex.  Don’t twist things to try and be right.”

“Don’t spend all day rejecting even the slightest hint of camaraderie only to demand my attention the instant people’s backs are turned,” Astarion replied, voice heavy with condescending disdain.  He turned his knife over, staring at it critically as the metal gleamed in the light of the setting sun.  “I suppose it’s my fault, for trusting a single word that comes out of your lying mouth.  Isn’t it, darling?”

She wasn’t sure why he was accusing her of lying, but she didn’t honestly care right now, considering how awful she felt.

“Ooh, my lying mouth, hmm?  Did you suddenly acquire morals?” she asked sharply.  How dare a fucking vampire of all things try to lecture her?  She scoffed, lifting a hand and waving dismissively.  “Conveniently timed.  Don’t put yourself on a pedestal and claim you’ve found moral high ground; righteousness tarnishes when it touches you.”

She almost laughed at the viciously offended look he gave her.  Really?  After what he’d said to her, he had the gall to actually be upset by her response?  Quite honestly, his arrogance was shocking.

He’d been deliberately irritating her all day, and now he had the nerve to reject her when she just wanted some comfort and company?

But she wasn’t going to get what she wanted by antagonizing him, and she didn’t really feel up to this bickering.

“I feel bad.  Can we just stop fighting, please?”  she asked wearily, rubbing her forehead again.  “Have a lie down?”

“Oh, well, of course.  It’s all about you after all, isn’t it?  You really are the most selfish person I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet.”

Wait, what?  He was saying that to her?  Rolling her eyes, Zyn shook her head in disbelief.  “I can’t believe a vampire of all things has the gall to say that.”

Silence was her response.

It went on for long enough to make her itchy, but when she finally gave up and glanced at him, his expression stopped her dead.  It was blank.  Completely blank, and not in shock.  No, the pressure of his stare was anything but confused, and despite the lack of expression she could feel a chill shiver down her spine.  Unease rooted into her already queasy stomach, the unrelenting, unblinking stare making her take a half-step back.

The knife in his hand gleamed, fingers poised on the edge of the blade.

“I…”

Her heart froze.

“Shut. Up,” he said quietly, voice sharp with frigid menace.

“Y–”

The tension in the air snapped like a whip, a crackle of violence and impact that forcibly grabbed her by the back of the neck and pulled her away, staggering.  Instincts, puppeting her body before her mind could do something stupid.  Again.

“I said get away from me!” he snarled, vicious and icy, bolting to his feet.

Some part of her, like a rabbit leaping through the grass, drove her to flee from his presence.  Zyn staggered a couple steps in a panic, before she straightened up, shame overwhelming those baser impulses.  Ah, shame.  

Always first to the party.

#Baldur's Gate 3 #Astarion #Astarion x Tav #Astarion x Zynatheri #she really is my favorite dumbass #I can't wait for her stupid assumptions to fuck her oer #torturing your own OC is always fun #consequences? you give zynatheri consequences?

[chronicbeans]

Dr. Randolph with a GN Reader in place of the Player (part 2):

TW: Captivity

Waking up, you frantically look around the room. You half expect to see the loophole, but your dreams are crushed when it is nowhere to be found. Then, the crumbled pieces of your dreams are thrown right into the fire when you realized that you seem to be strapped securely to a bed of some sort. The walls of this area look familiar in a way you don't like. A dingy yellowish color, with brightly lit windows that seem to look out to nowhere in particular...

"Ah, it's good that you are awake. I was beginning to think I gave you too much anesthesia..."

Your head whips over to the right, seeing none other than Dr. Randolph, himself. His dark eyes seem to gleam when you look at him, despite the fact that your expression should make it clear that you hold nothing but disdain for the man. The first thing you do is spit out "What do you want from me? Is it still my liver? Did you really go so far just to get my liver?"

He has that gall to laugh, as if you just told the joke of the century, before saying "You really think I would go that far. No, dear. I have a much different reason for all this. For now, though, just stay there and don't worry your pretty little head with that."

You flinch as he pats your head, your disdain growing at that condescending tone of his. As much as you want to make a venomous comeback to him, you need to think rationally. This man has you at his mercy, at the moment, and you do not seem to be in immediate danger of getting another needle dug into your neck. The best course of action is to stay calm, right? Placate him, maybe.

You silently watch him walk out of whatever room you are in, his movements no longer holding that confidence you saw before. He may be acting smug and condescending, but you can see that something you have done has shaken him up. Literally, mind you, as his hands are shaking slightly as he closes the door.

You take the opportunity to take another look around the room. It looks like the one that you found yourself in after first getting caught by Dr. Randolph, when you trusted him to help you, only to be betrayed. Small, brightly lit by the windows, and pretty cramped in a way. The only real difference is that the bed seems to be different, as well as the chair placed next to it. Looking down at yourself, you see leather straps wrapped around you, tying you down to the bed tightly. You can barely lift your arms or even move them away from your torso, much less sit up in bed. You don't see any clear escape routes, yet.

Dr. Randolph returns rather quickly, holding a cup of coffee in his hands. He seems a lot calmer than before, his hands no longer shaking as he sits in the chair next to you. He takes a sip, before saying "You seem calmer, now. Are you finally ready to talk without that harsh tone you had?" "Fine. Don't expect me to say much, though."

He looks down at his cup for a moment as he begins talking "I am sure you want to know why I brought you here, yes? The truth is, even I am not so sure, anymore. I used to believe it was entirely me wanting to prevent you from getting out of here. There are so many things that will happen if you, or anyone in here for that matter, escapes Heilwald. You most likely don't even know that you leaving will destroy the loopholes, do you?"

Your eyes widen, before you subconsciously shake your head. He lets out a half-hearted chuckle, before continuing "You will need to find a way to destroy the loopholes to leave. Then, by destroying the loopholes, you will destroy ME. I am... unsure about what will happen to the rest of us, but I know that I will be dead once you destroy those loopholes and escape. I can't have that happen. That's when I decided to go after you and try to stop you. However, I feel like that reasoning has changed. It is still a part of it, of course. Like most everybody else, I don't want to die. I really don't want to die... But it isn't the entire reason, anymore."

You sigh, looking him in the eyes. He looks conflicted about something. You ask "What is the new reason, then?" He hesitates, before smiling and shaking his head. "Even I don't know. For now, I'll take care of you. You don't have to worry about a thing."

#the heilwald loophole dr randolph #the heilwald loophole

[marzipanandminutiae]

From what you know, what was the opinion of the Upper Class of romance between servants in the same household? On the one hand, I can imagine that keeping things consolidated might be approved of as giving them more reason to be content remaining in one place, on the other hand, I can see it being Disapproved Of as a distraction, and I have the vague impression that there were some positions that you couldn't hold if you were married. It seems like it's a semi-trope for the butler to be married to either the housekeeper or the cook, but (assuming they met on the job and weren't already married when they were hired) would they have been expected to inform their employers when they got engaged? Would the employers then be expected to give a wedding present? Hold the wedding on the Estate? I know Victwardian rich people felt a level of entitlement to control of their servants personal lives (particularly concerning Good Moral Character) that we today would find pretty galling, but if a parlormaid kissed a footman at the Annual Christmas Ball, would that really have been the end of the dang world?

So, this is a super-complicated question because people have always been...well, super-complicated. And attitudes would have varied from person to person.

In my experience (primarily focused on the mid-late 19th century in the northeastern US), a single woman would usually leave service to become a housewife when she married. Couples sometimes worked in the same household together, but hiring already-married husbands and wives seems to have been more common than keeping on a pair who worked in the same household before their marriage.

As for weddings, the employers could be as involved or as hands-off as their individual working relationship with their staff allowed. I've heard of one family where the fifteen-year-old son gave his former nanny away at her wedding (she was a Canadian immigrant, so doubtless her father couldn't be present). Hosting a wedding at the house was a Done Thing. So was having nothing at all to do with a member of staff's marriage. Like I said, there was a wide spectrum of commonplace behavior.

Fraternization(TM) could be a concern, primarily the sort that didn't lead to wedding bells. One museum I've worked in has a story about a manservant who got a maid pregnant out of wedlock; the master of the house had a Talk with him about doing the right thing (which I say as a matter of economic/social security for the woman, not morality) and he agreed to support her but not to marry her. No idea how THAT was supposed to work. In the end he did neither, and she left service to live with her mother in the country.

So, while there was definitely a patronizing and paternalistic cast to the whole Keep Staff From Canoodling thing, it had a practical side, too: a maid who got manipulated into sex- or went into it enthusiastically but with no thought for the social ramifications thereof -could end up an unwed mother, with no job prospects due to her "ruined character." Some employers might have acted out of concern for their staff members, even if the expression thereof was overreaching and rather condescending.

More minor expressions of romance, like the kiss at a Christmas party you mentioned, could often be overlooked as long as they didn't seem likely to lead to premarital hanky-panky. While we often think of the Victwardian era as a very prudish time- and it was, in many ways -they were still human. Then as now, they knew people were going to develop attractions and want to kiss, hug, hold hands, etc. So a lot more romantic activity got a wink and a nod than you might expect- but again, it would depend on the household.

Hope this sheds some light!

#ask #thedupshadove #history #domestic staff #servants #victorian #edwardian #victwardian

[buffysummers]

i’m screaming. so this 70 year old man at work was being super condescending and patronizing to me about something at work. and he was 100% wrong and I knew that bc I had JUST talked to my boss about it a few days prior. so, he was basically arguing with me in the group chat and I was challenging him in a very polite and professional way despite how unprofessional and rude he was being. like he was literally speaking to me as if i’m super dumb and incapable of grasping what he was saying.

he went and TATTLED on me to two of my bosses, and they both backed me up and said I was right. and then they reached out to me and told me how impressed they were with me for standing up to him and standing my ground and being so professional while doing so because this dude mistreats everyone. and literally NO ONE has the gall to speak up and challenge him.

and I just think that’s so funny. he tried to get me in trouble and it backfired completely hjsdgsgd 

#everyone hates him #but he's retiring in a few weeks #but people have been complaining about this man for years and no one ever challenges him bc of how difficult he is #except for me apparently jshgsdg #i'm just not a passive person and my biggest pet peeve is when people are condescending and patronizing like nope #I will not put up w that #about me #rambles