#and every time one of the kids catches themself going 'i would know if my mom was a controller'

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

How could you firgure out that someone was a Controller

And what sort of odd "Habits" Might a Controller have

It's actually an important plot point in the series that there is no way to tell. Like, people who are around controller-versions of their own families can't spot it.

That's part of why Tobias and Ax spend all day every day following known controllers (mostly Chapman and Tom) to see if there are any places they visit every three days. From there, Tobias can figure out yeerk pool entrances, and from there, he can narrow down who's more likely to be a controller based on who also visits those places every three days. But that method is imprecise, to say the least, and he makes plenty of errors (e.g. #23, #45).

The only other method that seems to work is spotting someone you already recognize in a place only controllers are likely to be (a Sharing full members' meeting, the yeerk pool) or doing something only controllers are likely to do (flying a Bug fighter, shooting a dracon beam). But even then, not every controller's a Sharing member and not every Sharing member is a controller, and we see plenty of controllers with guns and helicopters. Sooo... there's really nothing.

#animorphs #controllers #this series is so dang scary when you get right down to it #there is literally NO ONE outside the team that they can trust #and every time one of the kids catches themself going 'i would know if my mom was a controller' #they remember eva and tom and go 'wait. that's not true.'

[ai-luni]

Love ur NSFW headcanon for Rorke! Never really interested with him till I read ur work!! If u don't mind, could u make one for Keegan?

Keegan Russ NSFW Headcanons

A/N: In keegan we trust.

Word count: 1.5k

I’m just saying, if he ever said “damn kid, who taught you how to do that” I’d actually just lose all my cool and faint. This man’s voice is the epitome of italics

This man may have the hardest shell, but in truth Keegan is a sap. Denial is a river in Egypt, YOUR HUSBANDS A SAP! 

No but truly, he will love you with everything he’s got. And although he may not be able to express it very well outwardly, you can always tell by the way he looks at you. His favourite thing to do is look at you, study you and make you react to things.

This man loves to hold you. His hands are strong and rough and calloused, he loves how they show his hard work and strength and he most definitely loves using them on you. To grip your thighs, your hands, your hair, your neck, your waist, you name it. 

He feels the most confident in his control over his hands and fingers, so he loves to tease and finger you. 

That being said, he also loves the way your hands are the complete opposite to his. smaller and softer, it makes him want to work harder to keep them that way. I think he’d have such an obsession with you giving him handjobs. 

He’d dream of catching you in the act of getting yourself off so he’d be able to join you. Getting each other off at the same time. 

He thinks about whether he would edge you until you came with him or try to make you come as soon as possible and keep going just because he can. He’s definitely thought about being a little goblin and saying you’ll cum together, then pulling away at the last minute. 

He will also kiss the centre of your palm as a form of public affection. 

His movements are always cool, calm and deliberate. He’s alway thinking about where to place his fingers. His kisses are neat, down your jaw and neck he’s kissing to leave a mark or travelling to his next destination. 

And you’ll know what kind of mood he’s in by the way he fucks. If he’s riled up, he plans out deep, rough thrusts. Harder rather than faster. He’ll pump in rough, watching the way your body bounces, your eyes squeezing themself shut as your breath is thrown out of you with a sigh or a choke. Then he’ll take his time pulling out, letting out a strained breath, often forgetting to breathe.

(This man’s love language is an act of service, I won’t take criticism on this. But I feel like if you kept a hand on his chest, monitoring his heart beat or his breath and reminded him to breathe, he would just be so over the moon giddy). 

Whereas, if he’s all passionate and sentimental, he’ll rock into you. Holding your hips and moving you with him. I think he'd love it if you took him this way, him sitting back on his knees, you sitting on his thighs. He’d pray you’ll wrap your arms around his neck as you rest your foreheads together. Keeping your chests pressed onto each other, feeling your little gasps and the vibrations of every moan you let out.

This man also seems like the kind of guy that would love to lay on his side, whether you're on your back or side as well. 

“Atta girl. That’s it.”

I read a fanfic once (If I find it, I’ll link it here) where he slow dances with the reader and she teases him. “What would your team think if they saw you like this?” I: 

1. 100% believe this man loves to slow dance with his partner. Think after he’s taken you out to a nice dinner and returned home, you’ve kicked off your heels and the two of you just sway to music in the dim living room. 

And 2. Believe that if you said that to him, it would set off something feral within him. He definitely has the capability to pound away at you but I think he has too much self control. You’d have to really tease and pull it out of him and show him you want it so bad. 

I think out of all of the ghosts, he’d be the hardest to pull out any kind of intense dominance. I feel like he has the strongest mentality that you die first and foremost for the mission, so he tries to keep as little emotional strings attached to people as possible (Especially after Ajax’s death). So if he did have a partner, it would have to be someone he cares about so so deeply and would want to show that love to constantly.

He checks in with you alot. It’s habitual. If you grunt at a hard thrust he’ll whisper a quiet little “you doing alright love?” If you react favourably to something he does to you, he’d say “You like that? Mmm?” He’ll constantly be purring in your ear without even knowing the kind of effect it has on you. 

Some days, he’ll get home and see you sitting on the couch. In a matter of seconds, he’s already thought out a plan to get you into bed. When he’ll sit down, where he’ll touch you and he’ll anticipate your every response.

The game plan is usually to sit next to you like he’s just had the roughest day, rest his head on the back of the lounge and wait until you climb on top of him and say “let me help you with that baby.”  

If he’s fired up some days, he’ll just put you over his shoulder and take you to the bedroom. Most of the time though, he’ll pick you up and make you straddle him right there on the lounge. 

Keegan also seems to be able to handle(let's be honest, bottle) his emotions the best on the team so I feel like he’d absolutely love just relaxing and cuddling with you. You are the only person he can really strip down to his most vulnerable and he’ll take advantage of that every chance he can. You are his self care. 

When he’s alone at night after a rough day, he’ll only ever think of having a bath with you. Lighting a couple candles, putting in that soapy rainbow thing you always buy that smells like lavender and having you sit between his legs. 

Your warm, soft skin against his chest, hair tickling his nose. The way your eyelashes flutter every time his hands graze your waist. He’ll be mesmerised by your parted lips letting out soft huffs of air, your chest raising in and out of the opaque water as his fingers fiddle with you. The water giving him a good grip to just play with your clit as long as you let him. 

He loves most when you play with his hair. Everything about it he adores. When your fingers twirl around a small tuft, when your nails lightly scrape along his scalp, the soft noise is like asmr to him. This is both when you make love and just in general. When watching tv, when in the car, when at a restaurant. He always wants you to do it and he will always think about you doing it. 

Again if he’s laying in bed at the end of a rough day and is away with you, he might run his own fingers through his hair and pretend it’s you. When he’s desperate enough, he’ll do it when he has to jerk off. He knows he looks like an idiot when he does it but with such a clouded mind, it does absolute wonders in making his hand feel like yours. 

So the lesson learnt today is that if you’re with Keegan, you’ll have to learn pretty quickly how to style his hair. 

Keegan is also a big cockwarmer. Especially if he’s just come in you and is drifting off into a nap, he’d roll onto his back and hold you close to his chest. But also if he’s going over work or you’re going over work and just need to feel close. A relationship with Keegan very much seems like a ‘doing your own thing together’ kind of dynamic most of the time. 

Not nsfw but if you’re not in the military and he’s out on a mission, he or anyone else who knows about you is not allowed to even mutter your name let alone refer to you. Especially if you have children. There's no way he’s taking even the slightest risk of you being found. It might sound cruel to some extent but he is an incredibly disciplined man and the love he feels for you is so deep that to him, this is the only way he’ll truly know that you’re safe. So much so that Walker’s boys don’t even know he has a partner. 

#cod #call of duty #call of duty ghosts #keegan russ x reader #keegan russ #keegan p russ #keegan russ x you #keegan russ smut

[roeiswriting]

The prospect of a coming out storyline on one of the most popular shows currently airing on television where a firefighter in his 30s discovers his sexuality is so incredibly important.

Now this is all just a theory as of now, from glimpses into episodes from stills and interviews with Oliver, but the prospect of Buck being queer and this being a season of discovery and self reflection for Buck is a beautiful idea.

A story I always remember from when I was around 13 is how some of my family would speak about a family member of mine, about how they came out in their thirties, and that they had “lied and deceived” them all for years. There was so much negative talk about them coming out at what the family had deemed was “too late” which I always thought was bullshit. I could never understand how they somehow were obvious to how difficult it was for a young person with very strict and arguably “traditional” parents growing up in the 80s/90s to accept that part of themself and feel safe to share it.

I grew up in the 2000s, when this family member was already out and had been for some time. I got a lot of shit from a close member of my family for “coming out too young” being “too young to know”. Years of them simply ignoring the fact I knew who I was, telling people around us that I was “confused” and I “didn’t know” who I was. But for me growing up with that queer member of my family I didn’t really ever have a heteronormative idea of life. I always just thought I’d grow up to love whoever, gender was never even a factor. They were really great to have around when I was a kid, them and their partner would look after me from time to time and it was great. I admire their strength and ability to overcome this stigma to live their life with their partner to the absolute fullest.

For Buck to go on this journey, to open up a part of himself which he may simply have never thought of before or knew existed is telling the story of so many people, people who are often not seen on television. Things that should be normal in our society but on reflection when do we see these story’s that reflect these people actually on television. A story that could make it easier on so many people.

If there is anything I could promise to anyone who isn’t in a space where they can come out, or hopes in the future they may be able to, it would be this.

There is not an age limit on coming out to those that you love and trust. There is no requirement to come out at all. All that you should ever do is live your life to the fullest loving who you are and loving who your heart skips a beat for every time you catch their eye.

Television mirrors our lives, it gives people hope and strength and an understanding that you are not alone in this. That is why it is something people hold on to, and whether this happens or not the idea itself is a great one.

#911 abc #evan buckley #buck and eddie #eddie diaz #buddie 911 #lgbt representation #coming out #I got all sentimental at the thought of this #I know it’s just all speculation and fun theories at the moment #but it would be nice #and important for so many people #bisexual evan buckley #i love you so much #i’m gay #and emotional

[sixpossumsinatrenchcoat]

Natural Satellite [ch 13]

An In Stars and Time AU. In ch 13, Loop deflects. Siffrin spirals. Isabeau tries to keep up. You can start from chapter one here.

Isabeau nearly jumps out of his skin. “W-Woah!!! Sif!!!” “Yes?” “You’re—wow, you’re like, really quiet!!” “Yes.” Sif flops down in the grass, patting around vaguely till they find a thick-ish branch. They snap it in half with a startling crack, eye it thoughtfully, and then halve it again before unsheathing their dagger. ...Huh. They’re whittling again, even though they know their work won’t outlast the loop. Which means they want to talk about something. “What’s up, Sif?” “The canopy.” “Annnd…?” Sif’s blade digs into the wood, scraping off a long, curling shaving. “And I thought we should talk about Wish Craft.”

[isat spoilers / 2 hats spoilers / spoilers thru act 6]

Isabeau has, like, at least a million questions.

If Loop—(Sif???) (No, they chose the name Loop; that has to matter)—is really some alternate version of Siffrin, then… what? What? What??? What would that even mean??? And why would they keep it a secret from Sif? What’s the point in keeping secrets from yourself?

Of course Isa isn’t going to rat them out. It’s not his place. And he’s definitely not gonna confront them about their past. What kind of a crab could look at someone who Changed that much and try to talk to the person they used to be? Loop is Loop now. Isabeau is totally cool with that.

…He’s just a little confused about why there are two of them.

Isabeau knows how it feels to Change. But it’s not like he walked out of the House holding hands with the kid he used to be. One person can’t become two people. That’s not how it works. (That’s not how anything works.)

He needs to talk to Loop. Luckily, he’s in the right place. There should be at least a few minutes before Siffrin catches up. Longer, if Sif stops to talk to Mira. It’s not ideal, but it should be enough to get at least a few answers.

“Loop!” he gasps, when he spots them.

“What do you want,” Loop asks sourly.

“N-Nothing!! I’m just a little confused, is all!”

“Okay.”

“And… I guess I was hoping you could help with that?”

Loop gives him a close-eyed smile. “Optimistic!”

“I’m just, um. I… guess I’m having a hard time getting my head around it?”

Loop’s eyes snap open. “Why? Because I don’t hang on your every word? Because I’m not some cute little puppy, like your Siffrin?”

“What? No! Because why are there two of you???”

He watches Loop draw themself up to snap at him and then just—settle back into their seat. “Oh.”

Yeah, oh. “So. You know. Why are there two of you?”

“Does it matter?”

“And how do you look so different? Body Craft is, I mean, it’s pretty advanced, but I don’t think it’s possible to—I mean—I’m pretty sure you’re made of light?”

Loop examines their hands, the white shining from under their nails. “It certainly seems that way, doesn’t it?”

“And—” This one is embarrassing, but he can’t help it. “W-Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“…Why would I?”

Yeah, Isabeau probably could’ve seen that coming. “Are you seriously not going to answer any of my questions?”

“I’d have thought that would be obvious.” Loop narrows their eyes at him. “Don’t you have any manners? This is Vaugarde. It’s rude to ask someone about who they used to be.”

Wow, they are really not making this easy! “I’m not— I don’t care that you Changed. Or, I mean, it’s great! If you’re happy, I’m happy! I just… I mean… It kinda seems like you aren’t, though?”

Loop’s face hardens. “I don’t want to talk about this with you.”

“Well, who do you wanna talk to?”

“No one! Ever!!! Till the end of time!!!!”

Isabeau groans. “Look, I didn’t wanna play this card, but you just really don’t seem like you’re doing very well…”

“What impressive powers of perception! Your parents must be proud.”

“…and I guess it seems like you’re cool with that, but I’m not, so I think you probably have to talk to someone, so… i-if you really won’t talk to me, then—” He grimaces, bracing for the worst. “I… think I might have to tell Sif.”

To his surprise, Loop just rolls their eyes. “Knock yourself out. I’m sure he’ll be soooo~ surprised.”

“Wh— Huh???”

“Why are you acting like that?” Loop asks grumpily. “You just said it just last loop. That they guessed who I was, and he thought I was probably him.”

“B-But that’s just a theory!”

“Oh, grow up. How long did it take you to clock me? Three loops? Maybe four? He’s been here for hundreds.”

(“Hund—????”)

“They have all the pieces. He’s just deluding himself because he doesn’t like the implication.”

He almost doesn’t want to ask, but… “What implication?”

Loop smiles nastily. “That—”

“Oh, good,” Siffrin says, from immediately behind him. “You’re already here.”

Isabeau nearly jumps out of his skin. “W-Woah!!! Sif!!!”

“Yes?”

“You’re—wow, you’re like, really quiet!!”

“Yes.” Sif flops down in the grass, patting around vaguely till they find a thick-ish branch. They snap it in half with a startling crack, eye it thoughtfully, and then halve it again before unsheathing their dagger.

Huh. They’re whittling again, even though they know their work won’t outlast the loop. Which means they want to talk about something. “What’s up, Sif?”

“The canopy.”

“Annnd…?”

Sif’s blade digs into the wood, scraping off a long, curling shaving. “And I thought we should talk about Wish Craft.”

“It sounds like you should talk about Wish Craft,” Loop sniffs. “You are the only one who knows the rituals.”

Isabeau gives them a look, but doesn’t argue.

“I don’t think that’s right, though,” Sif mutters. “My wish wasn’t even related. And, I mean… do I know the rituals?”

“You knew the right numbers,” Isa points out. “And the chanting and stuff.”

“Right, but it can’t be that simple. If repeating was all it took, then I’d still have that toilet paper.”

Isabeau stares.

Unexpectedly, Loop stares, too. “Come again?”

“The toilet paper,” Sif says again. “Didn’t you see? In the bathroom on the third floor.”

“I don’t watch you pee, stardust. Gross.”

“Wait,” Isabeau interjects, “I’m sorry, I just… You can do Wish Craft by peeing?”

“Piss Craft,” Sif says, apparently on reflex, and then glares. “I mean, no. Obviously not. Will you just listen?”

Isabeau shuts his mouth obligingly. He’s listening.

* * *

You don’t like that Isabeau is talking to Loop now. You can feel that something’s shifted between them, and you don’t like that, either. But at least Isa still mostly does what you tell him.

“I’m saying I didn’t do Wish Craft,” you explain. “I did the wanting, and the repeating, and it didn’t do anything. I didn’t get what I…”

. . . Wait.

What did you repeat, exactly? It definitely wasn’t “toilet paper, toilet paper, toilet paper.” What were your exact words? You asked it to come with you. No. To loop back with you. And you said—

You said you didn’t want to be alone.

(“S-Sif?” Isa says nervously. “You’re, um. You should probably be careful?”

You follow his gaze toward your hands. You’ve reduced the whole branch to sawdust. You flip your knife shut and brush off your knees in disgust.)

You said you didn’t want to be alone. And you’re not alone anymore, are you? Someone’s looping back with you, but it’s not the blinding toilet paper.

“Oh, Stars,” you mumble. “I did it.”

Loop wheezes. “What, really? Piss Craft?”

“No!! Shut up!! Will you both just shut up and listen? I’m saying that I—” Stars, but it hurts to admit. “It’s— Isa, he’s… It was my fault. I’m the reason he remembers.”

Isabeau’s eyes widen. “Wait, but… are you saying, um. D-Does that mean you wished for me?”

Right. Of course he’d ask that. You squeeze your eyes shut, cringing. “Not… exactly?”

“Toilet paper??????”

“I just wanted something I could hold!!” you say defensively. “I was losing my mind!! I was tired and alone and tired of being alone and I couldn’t make anyone touch me and I was just—so blinding tired of dying that I… yes. Yes. Toilet paper.”

For some reason, Isabeau looks even more confused. “W-Wait, what?”

“I said I wanted something I could hold.”

Loop stops laughing for just long enough to choke out, “Wrong sentence, stardust.”

You frown at them, running over your lines in your mind. It all seems pretty self-explanatory. “What?”

“You—” Isabeau’s face is quickly changing color. “You, um. You… wanted us to touch you?”

Oh. Oh, no.

You can read the rest of ch 13 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53412649/chapters/139473697 Or start from the beginning here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53412649/chapters/135189547

#isat spoilers #in stars and time #isafrin #isat siffrin #isat isabeau #isat loop

[bi-bard]

When It Surfaces, Just Hold Your Breath and Swim - Dick Grayson Imagine [HBO's Titans]

Title: When It Surfaces, Just Hold Your Breath and Swim

Pairing: Dick Grayson X Reader

Based On: Silhouettes

Word Count: 1,495 words

Warning(s): mention of death

Summary: (Y/n) never expected Dick to come back to Gotham. When he does, they wanted to forget all that had happened between them. However, after Dick gets into a fight with Bruce, (Y/n) finds themself remembering the things that led him to run away in the first place.

Author's Note: I rewatched parts of the first episode of season three and I forgot how annoyed I got by Bruce in such a short amount of time.

Part One of "May" [Release Date: 5/14/2023]

Part Two of "May" [Release Date: 5/16/2023]

YEARBOOK - SLEEPING AT LAST WRITING CHALLENGE MASTERLIST

--------------------

After Jason's death, I spent a lot of time in Wayne Manor.

Bruce needed the support. He would never admit it out loud, but I could see it. In how tired his eyes looked, how his shoulders slumped, how he couldn't seem to get a single thought together.

I just wanted to help.

I knew Jason pretty well. After Dick left, Jason took over as Robin. It wasn't the same as the connection that I had with Dick, but he was a nice enough kid.

And I made sure that Bruce knew how I felt about bringing on a new Robin. I warned him about the dangers and what I would do if everything went wrong. I thought something had clicked. Something had changed.

Jason was changing too. I knew it. I could see it.

At least, I thought he was. Before he went after the Joker alone. I didn't know what was all happening when he got back to Gotham. No one told me. I wish someone had. I could've helped.

I knew it was a waste of time to sit and dwell on it, but I couldn't help it.

I could vividly remember Bruce telling me that he had called Dick. We were sitting at the table in silence. I could see his hands fidgeting a bit. If you had told me that admitting something to me was going to make Batman nervous, I would've never believed you. But here he was, guilt now coming from two sources.

I nodded. "Good. He and Jason were close."

"You're- You're not upset?"

"Bruce," I said. "This is your family. Dick and Jason were pretty much brothers. I can't dictate if Dick comes back. I know that."

"I just... I know that you two-"

"Don't worry about us," I explained. "I'll be civil. Now's not the time to worry about me and whatever I still feel about the whole thing."

"Thank you," he mumbled.

"You're welcome, Brucie-"

"Don't call me that."

I chuckled. "Sorry."

Like father, like son.

That was the last that Bruce and I spoke about Dick. When he showed back up at the manor, I was polite. I greeted him, expressed how sorry I was for his loss, and then moved on.

He did the same, but I would catch him looking at me every now and then. Just staring at me with these big, sad eyes. I would ignore it. Again, not the time to worry about any of that.

I didn't think that Dick and I were ever going to have any substantial conversation. Mostly because I didn't want to.

Every time I saw him, I kept thinking back to the time before he left. The sweet moments. The kisses and the nights at my place and the apprehensively planned date nights. It all just played on a loop in my mind whenever I looked at him.

I thought that I could avoid it while he was visiting. That I just had to wait it out.

And then, he showed up at my door.

"Dick," I said as I opened the door.

He forced a chuckle. "I was wondering if Bruce forced you out of this little studio of yours."

I ignored the comment about my living situation and my stubbornness. "What are you doing here?"

"Can I come in," he asked.

"Why?"

"I... I got in a fight with Bruce. It was bad."

And despite my anger and need to avoid him, I stepped to the side and let him in. I pictured the nights when this happened before. The nights just before Dick left when he'd show up and beg to stay with me for the night.

It was all very familiar.

Dick sat down on my couch and covered his face with his hands. I heard him sigh. I closed and locked the door.

"Want anything to drink or eat or something," I asked.

"Some water. Please."

I nodded.

When I put his glass down, I stepped back and leaned against the wall opposite him. I don't know why I couldn't sit next to him. I couldn't tell if it would simply remind me of too much or if I couldn't trust myself being so close to him.

"What happened?" I crossed my arms over my chest.

"He was looking for replacements," he muttered. "Already."

I took a sharp breath.

"I was trying to tell him about this chemical that I found in a loft that Jason had. But I found a file of names."

"Dick, I'm sorry."

"I thought that this changed him. I thought that... that if me running away didn't make something click, then losing Jason would."

I closed my eyes and looked down for a moment. "I thought he had."

When I looked back, Dick was watching me with his eyebrows furrowed.

"After you left and Bruce took on Jason, I kind of... I kind of ripped him a new one," I explained. "I went on and on about him chasing you away, how he better not screw it all up, and how if he did screw it up then I would make his life hell... he seemed to care. A lot.

"He wanted Jason to stop, but he wouldn't explain why. I think that just made Jason feel like a screw-up. I wish that I had yelled at him when Jason died. The only reason that I didn't was because I thought he was truly mourning... that he was changing. I held my tongue out of kindness."

"Bruce didn't want kids. He wanted soldiers."

I didn't argue with that. I knew it was true. "It's not your job to get Bruce to change. It never was. He has to do that on his own. No matter how painful it is."

Dick let out a sigh.

"I wish I would've stood up for you the way that I stood up for Jason."

"I was far too gone for you to help me," he muttered. "It's not your job to fix Bruce either."

"I think I'm learning that."

"Yeah... me too."

There was a long pause between the two of us.

"Can I... Can I stay here tonight," he asked. "I... I'll sleep on the couch if that makes you more comfortable."

"Okay," I nodded. "I'll get you a spare blanket."

"Thanks."

The rest of the night was quiet.

There were a few words exchanged, jokes about me still listening to the same playlist to go to bed, apologies for how uncomfortable the couch was, small inside jokes from before he left. It was nice. It was nice to not have to be awkward with him. Some kind of connection between us was stronger than the hurt from when he took off.

I woke up late that night when a phone started ringing.

It wasn't mine.

I saw Dick sit up as he answered the phone.

I didn't catch much of the conversation. Just Dick asking about what was going on. And then he cursed a bit when the call seemed to drop. He tried to call the number back, but there was clearly no answer. He got up and started passing around the room.

"What's going on," I asked as I sat up.

"Bruce did something dumb," he muttered. "I think he's leaving Gotham. I... I don't know what's happening. He just told me to be better than him and then hung up."

"Let me get some shoes and we'll head out there-"

"What's the point?"

I paused as I stood up. "Because Bruce just did something dumb."

"He will be out of the city before we get out there."

"Then, let's go out there and see if we can figure out what happened," I insisted. "Just in case he hurt someone... or himself."

"Okay," he nodded.

I nodded back before going to grab my shoes and jacket. I grabbed my keys before walking toward the door. "Alright, let's go."

"Thank you," Dick muttered as I locked my door behind us.

"No need-"

"(Y/n), I'm serious," he grabbed my wrist. I turned back to him.

"I know," I promised, placing my hand over his. "You shouldn't have to deal with this. You didn't pick this life. And you're still getting pulled into Bruce's crap. I'm sorry."

He didn't speak, but he also didn't let go of my wrist.

"Dick-"

I was caught off guard when Dick leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine. I froze, torn between leaning away from him and staying where I was. He pulled away before I had to make that choice.

"I'm sorry," he muttered.

"It's alright," I mumbled. I grinned a bit as a memory of our first kiss played in my mind. "Come on. We've got places to be."

He finally let go of my wrist and nodded. A small grin pulled at his lips.

Those replaying memories suddenly seemed far less overwhelming... they were comforting.

And that was all the change that I truly needed.

--------------------

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[whumpiary]

technically a follow on from this piece. could probably stand alone. this piece has been 80% done in my google docs for three years so if you see any big holes in it uhhh. no you didn't.

if you've ever wanted some vague exposition on cass' powers or choices, then this is for you

content warning: mentions of death, victim blaming, aftermath of violence/assault, referenced dubcon/noncon, brief mind control

-

The common room at Bergen Estate gets quiet at night. Most of the charges prefer their own rooms as it gets dark. Hiding from the bogeyman.

But Harley liked the large, dark emptiness of the common room.

The curved chairs, the pillars, the rows of books and video games lined up along the shelves. The big oak tables. Bean bags in the corner. Rugs here and there. The whole place had the energy of some sort of bizarre combination between a kid’s playroom and a university library. But Harley wanted a space to think, and this was the easiest one.

Their intuition had been right and wrong in equal amounts tonight. They’d known they would be called to Christopher’s lounge tonight. And they were. And they knew that they would be fine after. And they are. But… if they were so fine why do they feel so God fucking awful?

“Harley can go, right? It’s not like we need them.”

Every time they try to push the memory from their head, it bobs to the surface again like an apple in water.

“I have to say, Harley… I really am so disappointed in you.”

They stare out the large bay window, at the leafless trees silhouetted in the mix of light from the garden and from the moon. The whole thing looks ghostly. Gothic. The dark through the glass makes the whole window reflective; a giant mirror just waiting to show them their face. But it’s dark in here too. It’s a dark room reflected on a dark night. That’s why it’s so obvious when there’s a shuffling flash of light behind them, making their heart skip.

The door opens, someone steps through, and then it closes. Dark again. Harley stiffens, freezes, trying to catch another glimpse of who it is in the reflection of the window but it's back to shadows on shadows on shadows.

They listen as the person shuffles to one of the cushioned seats. Shuffles. Like it hurts to move. They sit so carefully that Harley can barely hear them. Then there's quiet. Stillness. An exhale.

Harley doesn’t move. They know stillness. They know silence. Have known it for longer than they’ve been here.

But then there’s another exhale.

And another.

Any hitch of breath that might be happening in between is more or less silent.  Which means, usually… crying. 

Harley feels themself cringe. The Bergen Boys don't cry. Those are the rules. Not Christopher's rules but the deeper, unspoken ones between the lot of them. You don’t complain, you don’t ask for help, you don’t cry. Or if you did, it got beaten out of you quicksmart. Everything else was a free for all as far as Harley has ever been able to tell. 

So the shadow person has come to the common room in the middle of the night. Assuming, like Harley had, that it would be empty. That it would be safe.

Guilt washes over them all at once, guttural and nauseating and they realise all of a sudden that intentionally or not just by sitting here, listening, they're imposing. Intruding. Doing the wrong thing. And then the fear beneath that, on top of that, around that, that if they wait too long and the shadow person notices them, they may well end up on the wrong side of thrown fists. Again.

Harley shifts on the couch where they sit, exaggerating the whisper scrape of fabric on fabric, and leans back on the left side where they know the leg creaks.

The shadow person's breathing stops immediately and Harley hears them stand.

"Who's there?" 

Harley freezes again, regretting making their presence known. Cassius. 

"I can see you. On the couch. Get over here." His voice is sharp and violent. Deeper than usual. There's a childish part of Harley, not as far beneath the surface as they’d like, that wishes desperately they’d just stay silent and hidden. Safe.

But, like they were told, they uncurl their legs. Stand. Turn. Start to walk. 

Harley can see the moment that the light from the window must catch their face. Cassius' face softens, eyes fluttering closed and body sagging with what was maybe relief. 

“Harls,” he says, running a hand over his face as he sits back down. Harley doesn’t miss the wince. “Jesus Christ, man, you scared me.”

“Sorry.” The apology flies out of them like a verbal flinch. “I’ll leave.”

“No, ple-” Cassius stops himself, eyes shuttering closed. Harley watches him take a deep breath, brow furrowing briefly. You don’t cry. You don’t complain. You don’t ask for help. “You can stay. If you want. I don't mind.”

Harley hesitates for a moment, glancing around half-uselessly, before choosing a seat across from the other charge and folding into it. 

“What are you doing up so late?” Cassius asks, as though they’ve bumped into each other at a truck stop. At a bar. Fancy seeing you here. 

Harley shrugs. “I don’t know. I couldn’t sleep. I kept…” thinking about what you were doing. They bite down on their tongue to keep themselves from saying more. It’s stupid. 

They trail off as Cassius looks up at them and the dull light from the window catches the shape of his brow. At the blood smeared along his temple. The bruising already flaring up along his cheek. “Did… did Beauche do that to you?”

Cassius huffs out a half laugh, running his tongue between his teeth and the obviously bruised tissue of his cheek. He drags his hand up, knuckle brushing softly against his brow. “Yep. What a gentleman, huh?”

“But Christopher said he wouldn’t be violent.”

Cassius scoffs, “Yeah and Christopher’s such a shining beacon of truth, huh?”

Cassius sits back in his chair, eyes hard, and Harley holds their breath. With the shadows of the trees outside dancing across his face, the shading of the bruises and the swelling there, Cassius looks half monster.

Then his expression softens, his body relaxes. “Nah, it was my fault." He lets out a sigh, hand running back through his hair. "The guy wanted me to cry.”

“And did you?” Cassius’ glare is immediate. Has Harley slamming their jaw shut so quickly their teeth click together. “Sorry.”

Cassius shrugs a shoulder in acceptance of the apology and leans back in the chair. He closes his eyes and all at once it’s like some mask comes down. He looks exhausted and hurt and… young, actually. Harley always forgets that. He’s younger than them. About a three year gap between them.

“Why are you up?” Harley says, after the silence gets unbearably fragile. “Here, I mean. I thought you’d be…” They struggle for a tactful way to put it. “In the other wing.”

“Nah, he didn’t want me to stay, thank fuck. And Christopher doesn’t like me coming in af-... Um. He doesn’t like me coming in too late,” Cassius says, picking non-existent dirt out from under his finger nails. He clears his throat a little as his face flinches in and out of a frown. “Plus, the sooner I see him, the sooner I have to… you know…”

He gestures loosely at his face and Harley frowns. The sooner he’d have to do what? Get rid of the bruises? Get rid of the pain that keeps making him flinch and close his eyes? None of them talked about it but they’d all seen it. Bruises fading on Cassius just to bloom on his brother in minutes. Always after a visit to Christopher. Always without a word spoken.

Harley can’t help their own contempt, “Isn’t that a good thing for you?”

Cassius looks at them with an expression Harley can’t place, dark eyes flicking between both of Harley’s, as though searching for something. He looks angry. Murderous. Violent. Then he snorts and it’s gone. “Yeah. Sure.”

He drops his head, hands fidgeting between his knees. With the angle and the shadows, Harley can only just make out the shape of his nose, his eyes half hidden behind his hair. It sticks out at awkward angles around his head like a terrible crown. Frizzy waves in some parts, kinked curls in others.

It'll suit him more when he leaves and he grows it longer.

The thought comes unprompted, unbidden and with the utmost certainty. Like the predictions always do. Just a slice of truth falling into the head with the right prompt. An understanding that that's just… how things will be.

It's not the first time Harley's thought something like it. That Cassius will do much better once he leaves. The notion of it is almost horrifying. Cassius has been here longer than they have. It’s hard to imagine Bergen Estate without its golden boy. 

Harley chews on their cheek and “If I ask you something, will you answer truthfully?” 

Cassius shrugs. Smirks. “Probably not.”

Harley rolls their eyes and looks away, annoyance settling in their gut. They don’t even know why they bother with Cassius. He’s always the exact same. They're about to stand up to leave when Cassius clears his throat and-

“I’ll trade you for it,” he says softly, dark eyes shining with something unnameable in the dim light. “You ask me something, I ask you something. No lies.”

“Promise?”

Cassius just shrugs. Which is probably as good a promise as Harley’s going to get, really. They sigh and trace the patterning of the rug with their eyes before pursing their lips together and looking back up at Cassius with a focussed sincerity.

They swallow. Inhale. Hands grip the arms of the chair. "You hate it here.”

Cass’ eyes skitter to the side and back. "That's… not a question."

"Why don't you leave?"

“Same as you, dumbass. Legally binding contract.”

“No, I mean-” Harley bites down on their cheek and tries to figure out the right words to say what they mean. “You can make him do whatever you want, right? You can make anyone do what you want. So why don’t you just… make him get rid of you."

Cassius exhales in a way that could almost be a laugh. But probably isn’t. “It’s… complicated.”

“Because of Henri?”

He shrugs, looking bored as he meets their gaze. “Sure.”

“No lies.”

Cassius sighs, leaning back slouched in the chair. He shrugs. “Just because I can make someone want to do something, it doesn’t mean they’ll do it.”

“Like… he’d resist you?”

“No.” Cassius pulls a face. “I mean yes, maybe. But no… It’s like…” He makes a sound hallway between a sigh and a groan. He rolls his neck, eyes roaming around the room like he’s trying to figure something out. He leans his chin on his hand, fingers skirting over his lips before looking back to Harley. “Hᴀʀʟᴇʏ, sᴏʟᴠᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ʜᴜɴɢᴇʀ.”

Harley stands instantly. They turn on their foot and move to the door and for the first time in their life everything is certain. Everything is clear. Everything makes so much sense and all they have to do is… Is to… 

“Um…”

Cass half smiles. There's something vicious and cruel behind his eyes. “Dᴏ ɪᴛ, Hᴀʀʟᴇʏ. Sᴏʟᴠᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ʜᴜɴɢᴇʀ.”

They step forward, compulsively, and for some bizarre reason they start raising their arms in front of them, as though their body can’t figure out a way to solve the issue even though they want to and as soon as that thought hits them the frantic desire starts to dissipate, filling instead with deep dread and panic. 

They turn their head towards him, eyes wide. Frozen. "I…" 

Cassius’ gaze is dark and heavy. Hungry and calculating. His jaw sets. “Hᴀʀʟᴇʏ, ɢᴏ ᴋɪʟʟ Cʜʀɪsᴛᴏᴘʜᴇʀ.”

The feeling that floods them is white hot and immediate. Desire and rage running through them like lava. They’re not sure they’ve ever moved so fast, wheeling on a foot, making it to the door, but no sooner are they reaching for the handle then-

“Nah, ꜰᴏʀɢᴇᴛ ɪᴛ. Cᴏᴍᴇ sɪᴛ ᴅᴏᴡɴ.”

All at once the desire dissipates, and the panic sets in like shame. Like failure. They come back over. They sit back down. Then their thoughts catch up and they look at Cassius with fury. How dare he do that? How dare he go into their head and make them feel that? 

Cassius just smiles. Shrugs. “Sorry. Figured I’d show not tell.”

‘’I could’ve killed him.”

Cassius shrugs, unshaded and unconvinced. “Nah. You would’ve got halfway down the hall and changed your mind.”

“But what if I didn’t?”

“Then you would’ve gotten to his room and realised you didn’t know how. You wouldn’t have killed him.”

“I might’ve,” they protest, still indignant.

Cass shrugs, smile lazy and tired, “But you didn’t.”

They try, for a few moments, to hold on to the anger. The indignation. It’s so, so easy to hate him when he’s far away. When they can’t see him or only see him at a distance. It’s much much harder three feet away from him, where the moonlight show the bags under his eyes as dark as the bruise blossoming above his temple.

“He takes you away from here sometimes,” they say eventually. “You could… when you were away from here. You could leave. Make him let you leave. That’s not that hard.”

Cassius just looks at them, chin resting on his hand, fingers covering his mouth. He raises his eyebrows at them expectantly, foot bouncing like a motor. He’s probably trying to look annoyed. Sarcastic. But he just looks like a sad little boy.

Understanding clicks in.

“But Henri…” Harley voices for him.

Cassius shrugs a shoulder. A tear manages to make it all the way to his cheekbone before he swipes it away with the side of his fist. The Bergen Boys don’t cry. “Told you. Complicated.”

This isn’t how things are meant to be. Cassius is meant to stay in the other wing, up on his damn pedestal and away in Christopher’s bedroom. He’s not meant to cry in the common room. He’s meant to be the golden boy in his golden room. It’s meant to be easy to hate him. He’s meant to be arrogant and selfish and mean and rude and-

“Your French isn’t better than mine,” they say suddenly. They can’t quite say where the compulsion to say it comes from.

Cassius blinks, “What?”

“In the office before, you said your French was better than mine. It’s not.”

He looks at them for a moment, frowning and annoyed and then suddenly he’s laughing, eyebrows shooting up in exhausted amusement, “You’re weird as fuck, you know that?”

“What? No I’m not,” Harley spits, suddenly self-conscious and antsy.

“Yes you are,” Cassius says. “I did you a fucking favour and a half tonight-“

“I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“And you know what, you’re welcome by the way.”

“I never asked you to-”

“Oh, save it. Yes you fucking did. You know what I can do. You know what I can feel. You were basically fucking screaming at me.”

And that, they do remember. Closing their eyes. Drowning Christopher’s voice out in their head. The huge loud static of I don’t want this, I don’t want this, I don’t want this.

The air stills. The atmosphere between them settles like dust in the shadows and darkens again. Guilt creeps over Harley's shoulders and rests with heavy claws. They shouldn’t have said anything. 

“My French is more usable than yours,” Cass mutters.

They’re truly unsure if he’s being genuine or just trying to break the ice that’s frosted over. They try for the latter, “Your grammar sucks.”

“Yeah, well we didn’t get much further than ‘voulez-vous coucher avec moi’, so I don’t think I did fine,” he gives them a dead-eyed smile that they assume is meant to cast the comment in humour. They don’t really find it very funny.

After a few awkward beats, Cassius gives up the ghost. He clears his throat, “Alright. My turn,” 

Harley readjusts in their seat, straightening their spine, tucking their hair behind their ears to listen for the question. They wait one moment. And then two. The whole time the golden boy seems to scrutinise them, looking into their eyes as he sizes them up, makes some sort of assessment.

Cassius’ voice is low and jarringly sad as he finally lands on a question, “Why do you hate me so much?”

If it was possible for Harley to feel every cell in their body crystallise… that was what this feeling was. “I don’t hate you.”

Cassius smiles. Tilts his head. The blood along his temple catches in the light. “No lies.”

Harley frowns and looks away, turning their head to look out the window across the other side of the room. They wonder if he remembers the day they met as well as they do. It was in this room. Just a few feet from where they were sitting now. He’d been sitting on the arm of the couch making some smart mouth comment to someone and they’d thought he looked friendly. And then his eyes had met theirs and prediction hit like an epiphany:

You’re going to kill me one day.

Unprompted, unbidden and with the utmost certainty. A slice of truth falling into their head.

You’re going to kill me one day to save yourself.

They knit their fingers together in their lap, pressing knuckle to knuckle. They press their lips into a thin line. Something with wings — a bird or a bat, they can’t tell — takes flight from one of the trees outside the window. Darkness reflects darkness back.

After it becomes clear they’re not going to answer, Cassius prompts again, “Was it something I did?”

They shrug one shoulder. Like he does. Look down at their hands. The shadows across the room dance and shimmer.

“Is it because of…” out of the corner of their eye, Harley sees him wave a hand at himself. “You know. What I do.” A pause. They see his Adam’s apple bob. “The way I do it.”

Harley frowns, ducks their head lower so they don’t have to look at him, even in periphery. They manage to shake their head this time. 

“Is it…” Cassius stops and starts. Stalls. Clears his throat. “Is it something I’m going to do?”

Harley finds themself looking up, despite themself.

They meet his eyes. Time stops for a second.

Cass looks so full of grief for a moment that Harley’s certain the rest of the world must’ve been robbed of it. All shoved into one person to hold for a second. His voice sounds wrecked, “I’m sorry.”

They almost believe him, too. And they hate him all the more for it.

Did he have to be so perfect at this, too? Did he have to be forgivable for this, too? Can’t they just hate him? Can’t they just hate his guts and let him get whadt he’s owed for the things that he’s done, does, is going to do? They want to ask him. They want to tell him. All of it. They want to see his face as he tries to figure out how to respond. They want to know how he feels when he finds out he’s gonna be a murderer.

“It’s okay,” is what tumbles out of their mouth instead.

“Yeah,” Cass laughs and another tear makes it out of him. They hate him for it. He swipes at it with the side of a closed fist. “No it isn’t.”

They hate him as he stands up. 

They hate him as he cuts the conversation short.

They hate him as he passes and gives the back of their chair a pat.

“See you around, Harls.”

They watch the window for the flash of light as the door opens, a yellow glow spilling into the room for a moment like blood from a cut. And then the door shuts with a click. And the room is back to its inky darkness. And the golden boy is gone. And Harley isn’t.

And their hatred is an unspooled ball of yarn in the middle of the floor.

#harley #cassius #bergen estate #implied or referenced noncon #victim blaming cw #death mention cw #violent cw #wip to wob #this is your reminder that you can go back and finish an old piece and post it #for free #may your abandoned wips be more of a prodigal son to you #im mixing metaphors like cake batter babeyyy #we are the daughters of the wips you forgot to burn

[the-meat-machine]

Any thoughts on how the Alpha and Beta kids would handle parenthood compared to their adult counterparts?

Predictably, the character I have thought about most in this regard is Dirk. So, let's start with him.

Dirk

Dirk does not want children. He does not think he is capable of being a good parent. But if forced into a position where he had to take in a child, I think he would do a much better job than he thinks he would. He'd still be a pretty intense parent, but he'd be way better than Bro.

I think Dirk's instinct would be to micromanage every aspect of the child's life to ensure they have the Optimal Childhood. Like, after taking this kid in, he becomes an expert in childhood nutrition overnight, throws out all his own crappy food, and from there on out makes nothing for either of them except mediocre-but-nutritious Optimal Childhood Meals. Until the kid gets old enough to express that actually they don't like the Optimal Childhood Meals, at which point Dirk overcorrects and abruptly decides to let the kid eat anything they want. Except now he keeps trying to sneak vitamin powder into their ice cream and shit. Look, he's trying. He's trying so hard.

Because the thing is, Dirk knows that his controlling tendencies are his worst trait, so at the same time that he's trying to micromanage the kid's upbringing, he's also trying to micromanage himself into being the Chill Parent who can Roll With Anything. He is going to get a good grade in Chill, something that is both normal to want and possible to achieve. Please do not let him know how not chill he actually is; I'm not sure his heart can take it.

The overall result is that of a parent who is trying to anticipate his child's every need while also desperately trying not to pressure the kid into anything. In the end, I think it'll balance out into him being a weird-but-okay parent who maybe accidentally gives the kid a complex about expressing themself... because every time the kid takes so much as a passing interest in anything, Dirk takes it upon himself to secretly learn everything there is to know about the thing so that he can Support His Child. And once the kid catches on that this is happening, that reaction in itself feels like kind of a lot of pressure! So Dirk's efforts not to pressure the kid ironically backfire. Whoops.

(Woe betide Dirk if the kid ever decides they want to learn swordfighting. The part of him that would be thrilled to have a protege to teach would be overshadowed by the part of him that would now be convinced that he's two seconds away from becoming an abuser every time he helps the kid train.)

Everyone Else

My thoughts on the rest of the kids are all halfbaked in comparison to my thoughts on Dirk, but I do think they pretty much all have the capacity to be decent, if flawed, parents. Though I'm going to start with the two I think might be the most flawed, haha.

Jane

I'm about to be kinda harsh on Jane here. We see in canon that she wants to have children, but I don't think she's really considered what the reality of that would be like. I think she would find parenting harder than she expects, and frankly I'm not sure she'd even like kids that much? Like, she could grin and bear it and go through all the motions and provide the kid with all the right things. But somewhere under there, I think there'd be this simmering resentment that this isn't how she wants to spend her life, and I think the kid would eventually pick up on it.

Jane also has a lot of baggage around reproduction that has been brainwashed into her (CEASE REPRODUCTION), so that's fun. All in all, she's perhaps the only one of the kids who I think has the potential to be a significantly worse guardian than their alt-universe counterpart.

But! Maybe I'm being too harsh on her and she'd be a great parent. Definitely fun to bake with, if nothing else.

Jake

If Jake can grow up enough to accept the responsibility of raising a child, I think he could be an okay, if way overly permissive, parent. That said… there's no evidence as of the end of the comic that he's prepared to do that growing up, so he could equally end up just as flighty and irresponsible as Grandpa Harley was. I know that most of the stuff about Grandpa Harley fathering a bunch of children and then ducking out of their lives to go off adventuring some more is dubiously canon at best, but really, I absolutely believe that was the kind of man he was. And frankly, I'm not sure that Jake will ever be ready for the responsibility of having children. But who knows! Maybe I'm underestimating him.

Roxy

A doting mother if there ever was one. Genuinely would love being a mom; even the hard parts I think she'd take on eagerly because she is just that into being a mom. Hopefully she can avoid relapsing into alcoholism, thus avoiding Beta Mom's biggest flaw. And unlike Mom, Roxy has friends around to help and support her with this, so I think she can manage it. That said, she may have a bit too much of her self-image wrapped up in Being A Mother, and her kid might find her a bit smothering at times. But overall, I think she'd be a pretty good parent.

Rose

I'm trying to evaluate each of the kids as parents on their own merits, without regard for their potential partners. So I'll do the same for Rose and speculate on what kind of parent she'd be without Kanaya in the picture (who, if they were together, I think would probably take on a greater proportion of the parenting duties than Rose would).

Anyway, I think Rose would be a good, thoughtful parent overall. Perhaps a bit too distant and may come off as cold sometimes. But though she's not that demonstrative with her love, she would love her child deeply and I think it would show through her actions if not always her words.

Dave

I think he'd be a pretty good parent, if a bit overly permissive. This kid is gonna get spoiled rotten. ...I should probably have more to say about this, but alas, I don't.

Jade

The Fun Mom! Honestly, I think she'd be a great parent. …Jade really deserves a better analysis than this, but unfortunately I apparently am not equipped to provide it. Sorry, Jade!

John

I almost forgot to put John on this list, whoops. I think John's biggest pitfall as a parent would be emotional distance. Again, I don't have much to say about this other than that Candy!John's relationship with Harry Anderson seems plausible to me.

#the beta kids are harder to analyze in this regard because we know very little about their guardian counterparts #but anyway. i tried to write this analysis without much regard for what sort of parents these characters are in Candy #since Candy is explicitly only one possible way they could end up and is stretching characterization to the breaking point besides #but i'm sure their depictions there influenced me anyway #especially john obviously haha #meatmeta

[sometimesraven]

Ian's Running Slow

Whumptober No. 12: “I haven't slept in days but who's counting?” Insomnia | “I’m up, I’m up.”

Fandom: Quantum Leap (2022) POV Character: Ian Wright Whumpee: Ian Wright

Ian needs to find Ben. Sleep is secondary.

AO3 Link

Eighty-seven percent. Thirteen percent. Twenty-nine percent. Every roll gave them a different number. Every answer gave them another question. Every new algorithm only had Ian tugging at their hair in frustration.

They tried again. 

Run: Find Ben. If: Janis equipment AND full team. Output: ...... ...... ..... Ninety-six percent.

Good. That was good, right? It had to be good. Unless their code was wrong. They should rewrite the code, just in case they missed a fault that was giving a false positive. That would be fine, right? Would only take a few hours. They glanced at the gap in their curtains, shrugging off the peeking light of morning and reaching for their coffee mug. Empty. Damn. Running a hand through their hair, they pushed themself upright to grab another.

"You're kidding." Ian froze halfway out of the bedroom door, realising with a stifled cuss that they'd entirely forgotten Jenn was here, sound asleep on the bed behind their setup. "This is like... night three."

Ian's fingers tapped anxiously on their mug as they turned around, knowing that without sleep there was no way they were succesfully masking the schoolkid guilt on their face. "It's fine. I'm fine. Go back to sleep."

"No, you-.." Jenn yawned and stretched, pushing herself upright to eye them with the judging gaze that somehow managed to still pierce right through them despite the groggy, half-unfocused haze in her eyes. "You gotta stop this. You can't live on coffee and algorithms, Ian. You need sleep."

"I'll sleep! I just need-.. I have to figure this out, Jenn. I-if I can just figure out how to get Ziggy reconnected with Ben then I'll be able to-"

"For the love of-.." Jenn shook her head, shoving to her feet just to pad over and point at Ian's screen. "This is not finding Ben. You think I didn't notice after day two you started asking it over and over if we'll find Ben? Looks to me like you're using all this as an excuse to avoid sitting down with your thoughts for five seconds. Trust me, I know what that looks like."

"I'm. Fine," Ian reiterated, trying to brush off the way their vision swam a little with the quick change of focus from the bed to the desk. Sure, their hands were a little tingly and the fog in their head was thicker than the one time they mixed pink gin with ketamine as a teenager, but with just a couple more hours they could fix everything. "I just need a little more time."

"In a couple more hours you'll be hallucinating, Ian." Jenn stared them down with more clarity this time, lifting a brow pointedly when the mug they were holding almost slipped out of their hand. "You can't do anything like this. The more you fuck yourself up trying to look for him, the longer Ben's going to be stuck out there."

"You don't-.. You dont understand." Ian laughed, the tiny huff of air making them dizzy. "You don't understand, Jenn. This is my fault. I have to get him back. I have to-.."

Were they hyperventilating? Jenn was across the room before they realised they were falling, catching them awkwardly and dragging them over to sit on the edge of the bed, cradling them gently like a sick child. "Ben knew the risks. He knew what he was getting into. This was always a possibility, Ian."

"Future me's code-.."

"Worked to do exactly what it was supposed to. There was never any guarantee Ben would leap back. And hey-- with the Quantum Leap program shut down there's also no guarantee the apocalypse future will happen." Jenn gently kissed the top of their head, their skin clammy and their hair unwashed. "You saved the world, Ian. It'll help everyone a whole lot more if you believe just for a second that you're capable of that."

Ian blinked, then sharply forced themself out of the daze of sleep trying to take them. "I'm awake! I'm up-.. Just-.. Ben-.. what if-.."

Another blink, and when they opened their eyes again they were laying down, undressed and covered with bedsheets. Their computer was shut down, and there was water by their bedside. Maybe just a little nap wouldn't hurt.

#I haven't slept in days but who's counting?” #Insomnia #whumptober2023 #no.12 #I'm up #I'm up." #quantum leap #quantum leap 2022 #fic #implied past drug use #dr ian wright #ian wright ql #jenn chou #jenn chou ql #jiann #mine #fandom #writing

[jurassic-cunt]

good omens ficlet. crowley delivers flowers to aziraphale's exhibit opening

Crowley doesn't normally do this. They usually pay the Them to do it, but it's Wensleydale's birthday today. And Crowley is going to be heading to the birthday party right after the delivery.

The delivery. Ugh. The man who made the order seemed like a bloody prick, one of those fancy suit wearing finance ceo wanker types.

"I need a bouquet delivered to the gallery down the street tonight. My partner is showing their drawings, but I can't make it. Business," he had told Crowley.

Yup. A wanker. And to top it off, the bloke took a call which was obviously from someone he's shagging, who is definitely not his partner.

Whoever that prick's partner is, they don't deserve to be stuck with someone treating them like that. Crowley has already decided they're going to spill the beans.

Wow. The gallery is packed. Huddling protectively over the bouquet, hoping no one bumps into them and ruins it, Crowley starts to wonder if maybe telling the artist about the cheating at their exhibit is the right thing to do.

The drawings are incredible. All portraits of the same young woman. Crowley wonders who the woman is to the artist, and finds themself grateful that they don't have large drawings of that prick looming over them.

When their eyes land on the artist, Aziraphale Fell according to the sign, Crowley's breath catches. With a bright, charming smile and fluffy hair so blonde it looks while, Aziraphale looks like an angel.

The old world clothes and tartan bowtie aren't something you see every day, but Crowley thinks they suit Aziraphale.

"Hi," Crowley says, wanting to return Aziraphale's smile, but feeling like they shouldn't smile before giving such rotten news.

"Hello." Aziraphale's eyebrows crinkle and he asks, "Are you alright," with such genuine concern that Crowley feels even worse about this whole thing.

"Yeah," Crowley manages to croak out, "these are a delivery from your... partner." Taking a large breath to steel themselves, they continue. "He- I mean, I overheard him take a call when he ordered... a call to someone he's meeting tonight. I didn't. I didn't want to tell you here, at what definitely looks like a fantastic night for you," Crowley keeps blabbering, unable to stop, "but I felt like you ought to know."

Crowley makes eye contact with Aziraphale again when he feels the man gently pull the bouquet from his hands.

The small smile on Aziraphale's face is grateful, if a bit sad. "I've had my suspicions for a long time I'm afraid, and I've been trying to muster up the courage to leave him for months. He... Gabriel can be very cold and condescending. Anathema," he points to the portrait beside him, of Anathema reading a book, "my closest friend, is the only one who's ever encouraged and supported me."

"He's a fool!" Crowley blurts out.

The angel's cheeks blush a little, and Crowley feels less stupid about his outburst.

"Well, that's sweet of you to say, dear boy-"

"I'm not," Crowley inturrupts.

"Excuse me?" He looks so adorable when he's confused.

"I'm not a boy. I'm," Crowley resorts to waving their hand around in place of using words.

Understanding dawns on Aziraphale's fave and he says, "Oh, I see. My apologies for the assumption." His smile brightens. "Do you have many more deliveries to make? There are lovely platters of nibbles around here if you're feeling peckish."

"I wish I could stay." The words are as true as words can be, and it makes Crowley feel guilty because the Them are important to them. "I actually have a birthday party to get to now, for, erm, one of the kids who would normally be delivering these."

Is Crowley imaging it, or does Aziraphale looks slightly put out that they can't stay? "That sounds lovely. I hope they have a wonderful birthday. And thank you..."

"Crowley," they supply.

"Crowley." The smile Aziraphale gives them when he says their name makes Crowley feel giddy. "And please don't worry." They blink, unsure what they would be worrying about until Aziraphale continues. "When I leave Gabriel, I won't say anything about our conversation. I've had the flat above the bookshop prepared for me to move back in for two months at least. I just..." Crowley's heart clenches when the angel wrings his hands. "I hate confronting Gabriel. But. Tomorrow I will be brave, just as you've been brave tonight."

"Me? Brave?" Crowley scoffs. "I didn't-"

"Nonsense, Crowley. You delivered potentially heartbreaking news to a stranger at a public event," Aziraphale insists, adding, "Thank you. And thank you for these beautiful flowers."

As Crowley watches Aziraphale press his adorably pert nose to the bouquet and inhale deeply, they try to think of a way to see the angel again without asking him out on a date.

"Do you take commissions?"

"Oh." Aziraphale's eyebrows are raised in surprise. "Well, that depends on the subject matter. Portraits are my area of expertise."

They didn't think this far ahead, obviously. Who the bloody hell would Crowley commission a portrait of? They can't say themself, they'd sound like an idiot, a wanker! Umm umm ummm-

An idea!

"The Them!" Crowley says, voice louder than intended.

"The who?"

"The kids who work at my flower shop, well, the flower shop could use some art. I figure what would be better than my long time employees. They've been working there since I opened, when they were delivering flowers on their little bikes." Crowley's nattering on again. "Well, they still deliver on their bikes. But the, erm, bikes are bigger now."

"I see." There's that smile again, and Crowley's stomach flutters. "I would love to do that."

Crowley wants to ignore the time, but they need to get their arse to that party. They don't want to be on the receiving end of Pepper's sharp words.

Pulling a business card out of their wallet, Crowley holds it out to Aziraphale. "I'm sure you'll be busy for a while with," they wave their hands around, "all this, so why don't you just give me a ring when you've got the time, yeah?"

After Aziraphale accepts their business card he looks at it for a few moments before slipping it into his pocket.

"I hope you enjoy the birthday party, Crowley." The angel reaches out a hand and Crowley takes it, and as they shake hands Crowley can't help imagining an embrace. "You'll hear from me very soon. And," Crowley meets his eyes and feels almost hypnotized by the depth they see in the blue, "thank you again."

#good omens #dark gift

[discotitsposts]

tonight’s episode

HOPE in season 7

I love this one it’s so so good i can’t wait to see it again

spoilers for ep obv

i love that penelope does this support group

penelope is so nice and understanding

omg no go with penelope girl!

uh oh

the one thing i remember about this unsub is that he’s a fucking creep. disgusting.

nah if my kids kidnapper revealed themself to me like that i would have went batshit

morgan is so comforting

nah i’m analyzing the language. this guy said “haven’t u always wanted to know what happened to her”

“happened” i would have flipped my shit

this one’s gonna tear my heart out every time

reid looks beautiful

i love linguistics i learned a lot about it when i took forensics in high school.

well at least that guy stopped them to talk to her so he def saw the guy

oh my god the guy had that poor girl so long :/

reid i love you

reid’s fingers 😫

i can’t even imagine how the mom feels knowing now that she was so close by the whole time holy shit

nah when they catch this guy they need to lock him up in a small tiny room in solitary confinement for the rest of time. i don’t remember what happens at the end

in fact don’t even feed him let him perish!!

spencer reid impregnate me challenge!!

this pizza is delicious

this guys a weirdo fym hide n seek. how about i hide n seek a frying pan and smack you with it

i feel bad for the girls friend :(

can u imagine knowing that a weirdo like that approached you.

we’re ready to deliver the profile ‼️‼️

get a damn frying pan and hide with it girl

love reid’s posture

oh my god this is horrible

no what the fuck. this guy deserves so much suffering. break out the medieval torture methods for this unsub.

poor monica :( omg

can u believe this guy was in the support group. like what.

wasn’t the daughter… oh my god he didn’t.

this is disgusting. he deserves to go through all the medieval torture methods.

lol garcia “forcibly remove me from the suv”

my man reid in the fbi vest‼️‼️

garcia !!

get him boys

my mom: doesn’t he kill himself

me: hopefully

isn’t this like the first time garcia wore an fbi vest

i feel like she hasn’t worn one before this one. she never rlly goes into the field

she does rlly good at talking in this one though

NO

WOAH WOAH REID DID NOT JUST SAY “NICE AND EASY” HOLY SHIT

lol the guy died

THE BUTTERFLY AWWW THATS A MESSAGE FROM BEYOND!!!!

the end omg

gets me every time

#criminal minds #spencer reid #mgg #criminal minds rewatch

[sasster]

Eye for an Eye or Something Like That

You ever wanna know what Redivi was like when he was about ten sweeps old? Of course you do!

If I make the joke I want to make here, it’ll give away the ending. [Google Doc]

--

The sun was high in the sky by the time you returned home with your mark, the entrance to the cavern just coming into view.

The grub they'd escaped with was tucked carefully into the sling that crossed over your chest and snuggled up close to the crook of your arm. Made of several layers of mother grub silk, that sling itself was ample protection against the harmful rays of the sun regardless of the grubs cast; It slept peacefully as you trudged on.

"Please – Fuck, Duxile! You have the kid! Just let me go!" The silence of the walk is broken by the troll behind you, their hands bound together with rope that you hold the other end of and the only thing protecting them from the sun was a double layered cloak pulled over their head. Their voice cracks. "You have to let me go."

A chilly silence blankets the three of you when you elect not to respond to them. Bartering was obviously off the table, doing them the favor of releasing them while you were so close to home? Enabling them to steal another grub? Silly.

The walk continues in the silence, terror seeping out from every one of their pores. Heart pounding in their chest the only thing to listen to aside from the crunching of desert sand underneath footfall.

With the cavern just a few moments away, they stop abruptly.

"Duxile. How. How did you find me?"

You stop walking as well, but don't turn to look at them. Instead, you give their bindings a harsh tug. "Easily." You finally say, then you begin again.

Your eye twitches when they refuse to move, the spine that turned to jelly the second you’d approached them last night suddenly restoring itself. Surely they do not consider their crime an admirable one.

“She is going to forgive me, you know.”

You cast a glance toward the cavern before finally turning to face the teal blood. They are not much shorter than you, but the way they hunched over in an attempt to curl away from the sun made them seem so much smaller. They recoil in on themself further when you make eye contact.

Lovely.

They do have a point, Madame Consoler will be more than forgiving. She would call it a lapse in judgment, a mistake. Perhaps it was a silly prank, little Moth. You hear her voice begging in the back of your head. She was too trusting, she would accept any excuse no matter how poorly constructed. A beautiful lie in the face of an ugly reality, she and many more trolls like her would readily accept that lie.

What an easily exploitable characteristic.

"You think so?"

They nod.

"Do you believe that you deserve to be forgiven?"

Your question catches them off guard, they take a step back and rub their hands together to quell their nerves. Their fear is almost intoxicating.

They swallow again.

"I wasn't trying to cause anything, honest."

"You stole a grub."

The grub in question squirms a little, making itself more comfortable in its resting position. Instinctively, you reach for and rub a hand along its length to calm it down.

When the teal blood doesn't respond, you continue talking.

"If I had it my way, it would be just the grub and I returning."

"Consoler would never forgive you for something like that." They spit back, fear replaced by indignance. Who do they think they are to talk to you like that? "She never liked the way you handled things."

"She would forgive me the same way she would forgive a good for nothing thief." There is no emotion in your tone, but you can tell they know that they struck a nerve. Your ancestor did think you were too aggressive. She didn't approve.

You thought she was a little silly, the way she let non-jades handle grubs. See how that played out? You don't approve.

You tug on their bindings again and begin walking, they nearly fall over as they try to hold their ground. It barely registers that they're trying to hold you back before they finally relent, stumbling to keep in stride. It would have been perfectly okay with you if you had to drag them through the sand.

Upon arriving at the mouth of the cavern, you see her. It's hard to miss her, she is seven feet tall. Lit up like a lamp as she paces back and forth along the entryway. Concern draped around the Consoler in the same way her gown did, it was just another feature of her character. She worries endlessly.

Neither of you speak as you enter the cavern, but her attention snaps up in a second. Worry clawed itself to the surface of her face, the dark lines under her eyes indicate that she had not slept since you set out to find the missing grub.

It is also likely that she has not fed in the same amount of time.

The Consoler crosses the cavern in quick, anxious strides to meet you. In seconds her hands are all over you.

Arms, chest, a brief pause to look at the child in its sling. She brings her hands up to your face, cupping it between them as her gaze lingers. Worry, she was always caked in worry.

"Madame I–"

"I know, I know, little moth. I know you are fine. You are perfect." Her voice is soft, if a little hoarse. She’s been crying. She needs to feed soon. "I cannot help but worry after you, my child."

She cared more about you than the grub, or its kidnapper. Of course she did.

Her gaze falls back down to your hands, the rope you held in it "Did you need to tie poor Trucir up?" She sounds disappointed.

You look over your shoulder at them. They'd shed their hood by now, their patheticness now on full display. A stiff wind could take them out, a striking from a wet paper towel tube would bruise them.

You did not need to tie poor Trucir up.

"You expect that we would have come back hand in hand, mother?"

Your ancestor ignores you as she makes her way over to them to untie their hands. She rubs her own over the rope burn left behind, they bow their head toward her.

What a joke.

"Why would you do such a thing, Trucir?" Oh how sad she sounds, the heartbreak in her voice. "Don't you know how critical it is that they stay in the caverns during this stage?"

"I don't know what I was thinking, Madame." They mumble into their chest, head still hanging in shame.

They were thinking about the payout. Your eye twitches and you turn to face the pair fully. The fuchsia grub secured to you stretches out and presses further into you, unhappy with the wet draft the change in environment comes with.

How much could you fetch for a fuchsia grub in those markets?

"It was very dangerous what you've done here." She chides, hands moving to their shoulders. 

"I understand. It. It won't happen again."

Pathetic. They can't even stick to their guns.

Your tongue clicks against the roof of your mouth and both sets of eyes are on you.

"My love. You know they did not mean any harm."

"To mean harm means nothing in the face of having inflicted it." Your tone is harsh, you don't realize that you have closed the distance between your ancestor and that pathetic excuse for a troll. "It should not be okay just because they are sorry that I found them."

"Redivi, it is okay. They learned their lesson –"

You've got a good grip on the front of their shirt.

"How much were you to make for this child? In the event of your success."

They mumble their response, your ancestor has since removed her hands from their shoulders and only watches. 

"Speak up."

"It.. Was an amount hard to turn down, Duxile –"

"An arm and a leg is the expression used for an expense beyond numbers. Was the grub worth an arm and a leg, Trucir?"

They swallow, shaking their head.

"No? Less? More?" Your patience runs thin.

"It was. It was a lot. Okay?"

Disgusted, you give them a rough shove that had enough force behind it to send them stumbling backward.

They trip over their feet and land on their back, just outside of the cave.

Face up.

Staring into the sun.

There is a stunned silence followed by a shocked gasp from the Consoler and a pained shriek from Trucir.

The grub stirs against you, you begin to rock it. You wonder if the few seconds of exposure was enough to blind the idiot. It would be the least of what they deserve.

"Oh, Redivi. What did you do? It was alright. It was just a lapse in judgment. They didn’t mean any harm." Your ancestor calls out, panicked, as she scrambles to pull them back inside. She cradles their head in her lap.

"Oh no..That. it wasn't.. That was not my intention…” You force your voice to crack. “I must have forgotten my strength.."

It is easy to sound sorry, you come to sit beside them. Trucir flinches away from the sound of your voice, hiding their face in the folds of her gown. A shame, you would have liked to see the manifestation of their punishment.

"It's okay, it's okay little one." She coos gently, rocking back and forth. "Everything is going to be okay."

You do not bother to ask for her forgiveness, she's already given it to you.

#long post #redivi #the consoler #coko writes sometimes

[iaminalotoffandoms13]

I am recently obsessed with the Scream franchise, and I'm going to make a crossover about it with every fandom I'm in. Anyways, scream x shazam! (2019/ 2023 one... I never read the comics.

Okay, so we know how, there are 2 killers in Scream right? (Well except for Scream 3 and Scream 6...) So yeah... what if the Ghostface duo is Billy and Anthea... Both Billy and Anthea usually don't use their powers to kill their victims, unless they actually need it... Their opening kill would be Marilyn Batson (Billy's mother...) and they will also be targeting her boyfriend too... At first, they plan to kill Brett and Burke (The two bullies) but they decided to make them the suspects... Billy would go to kill some of his past foster families, and Anthea helps him... While Anthea, the main target for her is the wizard... but she also went to kill a few other people as an act of revenge for destroying her realm (Which is very off from her in the movies, but who cares.)

Now Billy and Anthea start to target the Shazamily, yk... Freddy, Eugene, Mary, Darla, and Pedro... Billy faked his death which the other finds out... but they make Billy's 'corpse' gone. So the wizard came because Billy is dead, and Anthea took that chance to take their powers... and the others trust Anthea... so, they didn't suspect a thing.... so, they went with their plan to frame Brett and Burke... So then... Freddy was alone in the house, the others have their plans outside... He was attacked but thankfully not killed... But there are some members of the family that died, which are Rosa, Victor, and Eugene... Then later on, they are also able to kill the wizard... of course, they planted some fake evidence that Brett and Burke are guilty, at first, Freddy didn't believe it but slowly, he starts to get tricked... A few weeks later.... that was when Eugene died... they made a funeral, and let a few visitors stay at their house for comfort... Brett and Burke didn't leave yet... probably too tick him off, but as Freddy suspected them... He made a plan with the others, so they could catch them but then they find Rosa and Victor, dead. They were furious...

They went to find Brett and Burke, only to find them, dead only for Mary to receive a phone call and that's when Anthea starts attacking with her mask on.... they ran and ran... thankfully... they managed to survive... They were at the hospital for 2 weeks... when they got home, they have protection with them... the polices... Billy and Anthea realize that this is the time to use their powers... they killed all the polices while trying to avoid being too loud... Then Mary was attacked first, she was alive but unconscious... The wizard came inside... Freddy, Pedro, and Darla tried to find weapons, but they didn't find anything... Then when Freddy receives a phone call, Anthea with her Ghostface costume surprise attack Pedro, and he went unconscious, Freddy threw a vase at her and she feels a bit of pain. Then Billy with his Ghostface costume, came behind Freddy and Darla, bringing a gun. Anthea also took out a gun with her and she stabs the wizard and shot him a couple of times... Freddy commands them to show themself since they were gonna die, anyways.... Billy replied by saying with his voice changed, "Of course... anything for my family..." He took off his mask, and Anthea did the same thing. Billy grabbed Freddy stabs him a couple of times before, putting a gun over Freddy's head. Freddy and Darla felt betrayed... Anthea was starting to go and stab Darla too, but she was stopped by the justice league... there was a big fight, and Billy and Anthea were using her powers, but the justice league ended up winning... the remaining family survived but they have no powers left and had to be separated because Rosa and Victor died... after that, they have a hard time trusting someone.

Billy Batson.

Motive: He was upset when he finds out his mother, who abandoned him, and adopted another kid. And was sick of being rejected by people... he was even rejected by the town when all he tried to do was help them... so he decided to take revenge and starts to enjoy committing murder.

Kills: 12 kills (Rosa, Eugene, Marilyn, Marilyn's boyfriend, Brett, three polices, and 2 foster parents)

Anthea

Motive: To get revenge on the wizard, that took her father's powers... and to the people, for destroying her realm... She killed Kalypso because she wanted to take revenge herself (Unlike the movies)

Kills: 13 kills (Victor, Burke, The wizard, Three police, and a group with 7 people in it, the whole group is doing drugs and destroy the earth)

(This is not based on canon. I'm aware that the character wouldn't actually do this.. I was just bored, and I have been obsessing with Scream lately)

#shazam 2019 #shazam fury of the gods #Scream x Shazam! #billy batson #anthea #freddy freeman #mary bromfield #darla dudley #pedro pena #eugene choi #rosa vasquez #victor vasquez #The wizard #the wizard shazam #Some shit I made #shazamily #kinda

[scrawlingmouse]

Trick or treat! 🎃

FOR YOU some mild horror from the Echo fic that I am realizing was like 80-90% finished lmao

Anyways shits fucked when you're a massively telepathic monster the size of a two story building and your kid is the size of a regular human teenager oops

["Little Echo?" She presses against their mind but-- unlike every time before, they shrink away. Worry gnaws at her gut and she makes herself as small as she can to get to where they've hidden themself. "It is only me."

"Guards the Deep?" Fear. Pain. They reek of it. Their hatchling is shaking, burrowed in their cloak, but the moment they have visual confirmation of her their defenses drop and they cling to her mentally. Physically, they do not move. "I'm sorry, I didn't know. He felt like how you feel-"

"I'm sorry." Her mind curls around their's and draws it close, checking for lasting wounds from the psychic attack. "I should have shown you how to guard your mind, how to block my kind for at least a bit."

"I just let him in." Their mind is miserable, and she can feel them spiraling. "He was right, I'm not one of you-"

"You're hurt," she interrupts.

"I am??"

"You are." She can smell it with her nose now, thick and metallic in the air. "Show me."

Little Echo takes a bit, still reeling from the shock, but eventually they stick out a gangly leg, a deep gash running through the muscle. It must have either happened when she grabbed them, or when they made contact with the ruins. Either way… "It's too deep to wrap," she says, poking around their synapses. "You're going to have to stitch it shut."

Their fear spikes, and their hands shake. "I- I don't know-"

"I cannot do it, I am too big." She pushes on. "Your kind heals this way. If you do not, the wound will not heal, and you will die."

Their breathing picks up dangerously as they stare at the wound. "I can't." They can't. Their mind is spiraling, they can't focus. Alright.

Guards the Deep curls around their mind, wrapping them up in a warm mental hug, before pulling on their synapses like puppet strings. With their hands she opens their satchel, pulls out the simple sewing kit they use for their clothes. With their hands she prepares the needle, prepares the thread. They resist only when she reaches towards the wound, flinching back. "Don't fight me, Little Echo," she croons, pausing just enough for them to catch their breath before working on the stitches. She holds them, even as they begin to cry small, panicked tears. "It will hurt, but you will heal. Trust me, Little Echo."

They sniff, even though their hands are steady. "I do."

"I will do nothing more than this."]

Can Echo do this to other people now with their adult inherited telepathy????? Maybe :)

AND WHATS THIS AT THE BOTTOM OF THE BAG??? A PIECE OF THAT JOBI FIC I ALSO NEVER FINISHED??????

[There was a biblical story Gabi had told him once. Samson and Delilah. Samson was terrifyingly strong, and his enemies sent someone in to gain his trust and learn the source of his power, and that was Delilah. Samson fell in love with her, and told her that if she cut his hair she would render him powerless. There is vulnerability in leaning how to kill someone. The rest of the story goes on as you might expect: she cut his hair, gave him to his enemies who bound him and beat him until his hair grew out, and he pulled the building down on top of everyone. These days, John can't help but think. An undefeatable man, giving away his one weakness… was he awake when Delilah cut his hair? Did he feel her at his back, her hands in his hair? Did he feel the first cut, and simply lay back and let it happen? Did he give her the means to defeat him, just to feel what that defeat felt like?]

[There is some part of him, some part that is more lucid that balks at talking to her about these fears. She knows these fears, and he knows she holds identical ones, and it's not fair to all but beg her to fix his own. But he does.]

["I could hurt people, I could…" I could hurt you. I have hurt you. I'm a monster a weapon a feral rabid fucking dog put me down put me down please please please- his nervous system is static, his brain feels like it's going to vibrate out of his skull, his hands don't stop shaking until she takes them.]

[There is something intimate in telling someone how to trap you. Even moreso in letting them do it.]

Anyways HALLOWED BE THY WEEN 🎃🎃🎃

#Squeaking #Old writing is old writing but y'know I still like these #I should finish them one of these days

[a-problematic-writer]

“Did you really buy a whole bag of candy?”

Aiden’s lips twitch upward as he pulls a pair of scissors from his knife drawer to cut the package open. Petra leans into the counter behind him, crossing their arms. He looks over his shoulder at them as he sets his scissors back into the drawer. She raises a brow at him, lips pulled into a smirk.

“Maybe. It’s for the trick ‘r treaters!”

“Uh, huh—“

She crosses her legs as she drums her fingers on her arm. He rolls his eyes and turns fully toward them.

“Ah, come on, Pet!” He can’t fight the grin anymore. “It totally is!”

“Because kids are totally gonna come up to the fifth floor of an apartment.”

He sticks his tongue out at her and sifts through the bag a moment. It was on sale tonight and was one of those bags that had over a hundred pieces of candy inside of varying brands and types. He bought it on a whim without really thinking about the fact he wasn’t the biggest candy fan. Petra did have a soft spot for Milk Duds though. His eyes come back to them and he finds they’re already eyeing the front of the bag—gaze focused right on the Milk Duds label. He laughs and her eyes cut up to his. He grins and nods his head toward his living room.

“Wanna go sit on the floor and dig through this and pretend we’re kids swapping candy again?”

Her brow furrows a moment before her lips twitch upward and she pushes away from the counter, starting towards his living room.

“I want every box of Milk Duds and at least half of the skittles!”

He follows after them close on their heels.

“As if I’m giving you any of the Skittles!”

They stay sat on his living room floor sorting through the candy for a good while. They both are thoroughly disgusted by the amount of Whoppers and push them to the side for Lukas. He’d always liked them and Aiden could never put his finger on why. She takes every box of Milk Duds [They already opened a box and have eaten all of them] He can’t stand them so he’s more than happy to let her have them. There’s a good amount of chocolate in here that he can already see himself pawning off to Jesse. They’d always really liked chocolate. He sets aside the Kit Kat bars for Maya. By the end, everything is sorted and there’s a nice pile of Skittles he’s pleased with. Petra keeps eyeing them.

“You aren’t getting any of them, ginger.”

She scoffs, eyes narrowing as they meet his, arms crossing. The indignation would be cute on them if he didn’t know it could lead to her fighting him for said Skittles. He flashes a grin her way.

“All I want is half, eyebrows!”

He breathes a laugh through his nose; his elbow pressing into his knee as he settles his chin into his palm.

“You’re not getting it.”

A scowl tightens their features.

“Yes, I am.”

He shakes his head.

“No, you’re not.”

Her glare tightens.

“That’s not fair!”

He scoffs.

“I bought them,” he says, “I get say on what goes where and I’m keeping my skittles.”

They shove his shoulder and he laughs.

“I’m your best friend!” They say, “I think I deserve at least half of the skittles.”

They eye the pile of skittles a moment then reach for them and he catches their wrist.

“No.”

“Aiden—“

“What’re you going to do about it?”

Logically, that was the worst response he could have chosen. Petra was a highly competitive and challenge-oriented person and he’d only realized his mistake when their lips twitched upward. He barely has a moment to feel dread before she jabs at his ribs. He yelps and cuffs her arm.

“Quit!”

“Give me half the skittles!”

“No!”

That starts the real onslaught of them trying to poke him in his ribs, his torso, his shoulder; and he smacks their hands away each time, telling her to stop each time but she keeps up her assault—soon he’s catching her wrists instead and they’re both laughing and starting to shove and one she aims at him is enough to knock him onto his back. He’d had a tight enough grip on their arm then that they’re pulled over with him. They manage to catch themself before they collide together and they’re now hovering over him and his breath hitches and he curses himself.

The crush was something stupid. Something he had hated vehemently when it cropped up a couple years ago because they were such good friends and the last time he was romantically involved with a childhood friend things fell apart spectacularly. He and Lukas were only just beginning to repair their friendship. So he’s stayed quiet about it. He was more than certain she didn’t see him that way. But some part of him hoped she did despite everything. He’s swore maybe he’s seen it. But he’s sure he’s in so deep he’d likely see anything as interest at this point.

They haven’t moved and that sets his brain on fire and heartbeat racing. They got this look on their face he can’t read too. They’re thinking and he’s not sure on what. He tries to speak but he stutters instead and then there’s no real reason to speak. She leans down and he swears his heart stops as her lips press to his. He freezes at first, like a deer in headlights; he doesn’t know how to breath—thinks his heart even forgets how to beat—then his hand is in their hair and he’s kissing them back. And any thoughts of how this could ruin everything between them are shoved to the back burner.

It ends far too soon; a loud three rap knock—Gill’s signature one—echoing throughout his apartment. Petra springs back rocking back onto her knees. He inhales sharply through his nose, cursing everything. He pushes himself up into a seated position and glowers toward the door. The knock sounds again and he groans before pushing himself up.

He spends the walk to the door trying to ease his frustration enough that he won’t immediately pinch Gill for interrupting.

#my writing #kyler writes #mcsm #minecraft story mode #mcsm aiden #mcsm petra #mcsm aidetra #mcsm paiden #she/they Petra my beloved #I wrote this in one go and don’t think I’m going to edit it #lmao hi happy halloween #this was inspired by a prompt #‘’two teasing best friends have a first kiss after a play fight’’ #paraphrased a bit #I found it some days back and was like oh I can’t NOT write Aiden and Petra with this #aidetra fans come get y’alls juice! #me? not post aidesse??? it’s more likely than u think

[bellafragolina]

Different Types of Pokémon (Reincarnated) Self-Inserts;

Perfect Memory Fans—Ones who were big fans of the series and can remember every little thing. Like a random conversation with an NPC, serious plot points of the manga, or all of ash’s exploits. If done well enough to where they are still challenged then I like reading these stories.

Learned through Osmosis—Were never really into Pokémon, but learned a few things through sheer exposure to the franchise. Fair enough some people are die-hard digimon fans or somehow aren’t frightened by horror games. (I have nothing against them, Digimon World Dawn was just too much for my digimon game.) Interesting to see how their limited knowledge interacts with the Pokémon World’s info.

Them’s Nuzlocke Rules/Grimdark—Stories where Pokémon can get injured just as easily as humans in battles. Friendship’s a minor concern overtaken by simply surviving, not my favorite yet tend to have pretty well thought out World building for such dark takes on things.

Pokemon Were A Game/Anime/Story?—Ones where self-inserts don’t retain much memory from our world. They are Pokémon-natives who grew up with all that craziness until at some point they get previous life memories. Fun to see how their reaction to our animals and so so very rarely do they retain their original mindset.

Wait so an Anime Protag, Game Protag, AND Manga Protag are around?—Find themselves in a combined universe sharing elements of all three main versions. I would probably not be able to recognize the last one since I barely know anything about the Manga. Where does one versions influence begin and one end?

Guess I’m not the only one—Stories where multiple self inserts exist and influenced the world before the most recent one remembered. BANIX’s stories have this element and it is well implemented. Self inserts don’t interact until much later in their lives, one has a normal family at least so not all tragic backstories.

Somebody has too…—Ones where they get self-inserted as a canon character (usually Ash) who they know plays a major role in the world. Why, oh why are they shoved into the Chosen Ones responsibility? Most tend to act as if everything is already determined just going with the flow. Others will use the time they have before to prepare themselves for better than their “canon” selves. A brave few might be stuck on the fence whether to stick with what they have or follow the MC to make sure the kid doesn’t get themself killed. (SI-Hard Enough.)

Cracked Rose-Tinted Glasses—The world is more complicated than the games/anime/manga made them out to be. Pokédexes don’t have a level telling system so evolving becomes a guessing game. Battles are more complicated than “Raichu used Thunderbolt… It wasn’t very effective on Enemy Ivysaur”. Pokémon are living creatures who can lose pass away from old age or diseases. Maybe certain regions have prejudice against one another cause of ancient wars. Did bombs ever evolve in missiles and nukes when we have the destructive power of Pokémon? Legendaries (and Mythicals) might be actual gods or demigods! We might be the only ones who know their actual appearance. Ten-year-olds can’t stop a criminal group and there might be a raised Trainer license age. Will the world end if people can catch legendary Pokémon? (Not as dark as nuzlocke/grimdark)

Pokémon are still Pokémon—Someone who has been reincarnated from the Pokémon past or another Pokémon universe. Spin on the knowing everything thing since they could come from a fan-game.

Why so changed?—Traveling companions, family, or friends who notice this certain person is different overnight. I would love to find a story where people watch the chaos without knowing the person’s thought process.

[Just a few things I noticed about self-inserts that I wanted to share.]

i love them all

it's always so interesting to see someone's personal take on a self insert story, pokemon or otherwise. everyone tweaks it based on their own preference, and it's always an interesting read!!

i'm partial to the "isekai" type of self insert stories. it has the most potential for both comedic situations and angsty ones! i tend to lean towards that in my stories

~Renee

[evermorehqs]

CATCHING MY BREATH, STARING OUT AN OPEN WINDOW

Elsa Munster is based on Elsa Frankenteen from Scooby-Doo And The Ghoul School. She is a 27 year old monster, scientist, and uses she/they pronouns. She has the power of super strength and durability. Elsa is portrayed by Amrit Kaur and she is open.

CATCHING MY DEATH, AND I COULDN’T BE SURE

Frankenstein monsters were created, not born, which made Elsa’s existence a rarity. Born from a whirlwind romance, she was her father’s pride and joy, and she didn’t mind being raised by him and him alone. Even seeing mothers and siblings visiting the other girls at school, they were perfectly happy having just her dad there for them. Her family was small, but it was full of love and support. When they failed classes, he did nothing but brag on her, to the point they didn’t mind if she was a little slower than the other students. She was smart in her own ways. Not just smart, she was a genius. When properly applying her brain, Elsa could accomplish the unimaginable. Science was their niche, and they had no doubt what they wanted to be in life. Though she barely graduated and didn’t have the best report cards overall, she was not only accepted into college, a human college, but offered a scholarship as well. The daughter of a living experiment, experimenting was unsurprisingly something that came rather naturally to her, and she was getting through college with flying colors. They were sure that they were going to make something of themself... then came Evermore. While the town was a lot to take in, Elsa had more practice fitting in with humans than the the girls, so they were quick to take over the parental role when they bumped into their old classmates. They were fairly content rolling with the changes and hanging out with their old friends. She found herself a nice place to stay, she continued her schooling locally and she kept her head up, but she missed her father terribly so. She wasn’t sure what she could do about the situation seeing as no one else had found an out, but she was determined to create some sort of solution to get back to him... if it was the last thing she did.

I HAD A FEELING SO PECULIAR

❀ Hannah Lennon: Someone that truly knows how hard the scientific field can be for young women, Elsa has found a confidant in Hannah... and it doesn’t hurt that she’s just so darn pretty. ❀ Robert Parr: As if they don’t already miss their dad enough, there is so much about Bob that reminds her of him. He’s goofy and kind, and he is so proud of his kids, and every interaction leaves them feeling homesick. ❀ Elsa Arikoğlu: Until now she’s never met anyone with her name before, and she always seems to visit the same places at the same time because their orders have gotten mixed up too often.

THAT THIS PAIN WOULD BE FOR EVERMORE

#amrit kaur #scooby doo #scooby doo and the ghoul school #ghoul school #elsa frankenteen #has powers #nb bio #open nb #open bio