#they legit have canonical “pound it!”

[ssaanaaloves]

#shadow the hedgehog #rouge the bat #shadouge #shadrouge #shadow x rouge #sonic heroes #sonic crossover #they legit have canonical “pound it!” #aka they've been pounding it #kekeke #idk what their hero names would be

[bvtbxtch]

Stephen | Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

“You’re my object of affection, my drug of choice, my sick obsession.”

Summary: 5 years since graduation, 5 years since you ran your way through Hawkins High, leaving boys in your wake…. Except one. Steve Harrington, apparent untouchable due to his infatuation with Nancy Wheeler. What happens when you see a worn out, former heartthrob with his fizzled high school flame stuck to him? Unhappy, feeling unloved and in a bind, you thought Steve could be the conquest of the night… or so you thought.

Pairings: King!Steve (Kinda) x Toxic!Fem!Reader

Content warnings: smut, angst, fluff. Non canon au. Steve and Nancy are together from Steve’s senior year to the time of the story. Cheating (emotional and sexual), p in v sex, oral (m and f receiving), Reader defs isn’t a girls girl but I couldn’t help it, alcohol consumption, one night stands, stealing, public sex. This is definitely 18+ MDNI!!!!!

WC:

A/N: Hi babies I have returned with something a little bit different from my little hiatus and am super excited to try something new! This fic is inspired by the song Stephen by Ke$sha! I hope you like it!! I love you all!

The pounding in your head mirrored that in your heart as you remembered the burn of alcohol down your throat from last night. Your makeup had been smudged off onto your pillow, some still remaining on your swollen, hungover face. The day after drinking anxiety had reared its head, but a wave of nerves hit you like a ton of bricks when a vision of you writing your phone number on Steve Harrington’s arm - more or less in front of his girlfriend - faded into view. 

You cupped your hands over your face and your shoulders shook. You couldn’t help but giggle at the picture of her porcelain face twisted into a bout of jealous rage. You could fully admit to yourself that you lived on the side of delusion, but there was a piece of you that wholeheartedly believed that your former king of Hawkins High would call you. 

And yet, you sat and stared at the phone perched silently on your nightstand while you nursed your hangover all day. The bright afternoon light evolved into an evening glow and still you hadn’t heard the shrill ring. You put on records and VCRs. You flicked through magazines and tried to pick up the new Danielle Steele book you had pocketed from the bookstore on main street. But the soundtrack of your thoughts was the hope that the telephone would ring and that you would hear a smooth baritone voice calling you. You fought to keep your eyes open while the blue light of your TV laughed back at you. You finally surrendered to the sleep your body had been pleading for, the blur of the night previous finally making itself clear in your dreams…

-

The music at the dive bar had been blaring. You were on your upteenth drink courtesy of Eddie Munson. The first time you had come to the Hideout it was your senior year, freshly 18 and ready for an adventure. You had snuck in with a fake ID and eyed up the curly haired 21 year old behind the bar. His eyes had been glued on you since you had walked in. Well, you worked your charm and lo and behold, Eddie had you bent over the chipped porcelain sink in the staff bathroom. After the orgasm you gave him, he knew he would owe you for a while - and free drinks you received ever since. You flashed him a wink as you downed the third tequila shot of the night. Your plump glossed lips twisted into a smile after looking at the winces of Heather and Chrissy. The three of you had moved a half an hour outside of Hawkins to the bigg(er) city of Indianapolis, but you felt the need to parade your luxurious city life to the hasbeen jocks of Hawkins High that frequent the only legit bar in town. You couldn't count on both hands the number of guys you had toyed with that now loitered around the musty pool tables and bar tops. By the time you graduated and got a job, you thought of yourself as a big fish in a small pond. You were ready to break big city hearts and leave the lame Hawkins lifers behind. That couldn’t be you. But there was always one that got away - one that you hated to admit was one guy that scared you, solely because you would let him domesticate you if he asked. 

The girls beside you let out a small woo as another shot was sent your way, this time courtesy of Jason Carver who had fastened himself a seat on the other side of the bar with yet another Hawkins Hasbeen, Andy Robinson. You raised the small glass to your lips with a devilish smile across the bar. Jason still had his abs like he did when you graduated. Owning the small weightlifting gym on the outskirts of town had its perks, you guess. You looked at Chrissy and rolled your eyes with a snicker as the burning liquid slid down your throat. At least if you didn’t get lucky with someone else tonight, he would be there and more than willing to give you a half assed orgasm in the back seat of his beat up jeep cherokee - better than ending the night alone in your books (and probably his). You scrunched your eyes closed and a flash of stars lit up the darkness behind your eyes. You opened them to blurry vision, the feelings in your fingers were being replaced with warm fuzz. You knew that if you were to get off your barstool your knees would raise hell. You let out a euphoric giggle. This is just what you needed.

You heard a small “well, well, well,” slur out of Heather’s bowed lips as two new figures emerged through the metallic doors of the bar. “Surprised to see Harrington out here. Isn’t his past his bedtime? You know I remember…” Heather’s voice faded away as you honed in your focus to the pair at the door.

Nancy Wheeler - her obnoxious perm and housewife dresses… You couldn’t help but hate her. She was everything you weren’t: safe, boring, square. Her manicured hand rested in a much larger hand, and that hand was attached to toned arms in a light cotton crewneck. You couldn’t help but feel the saliva pool in your mouth. Nancy looked up to her beautiful brunette with her stupid doe eyes and he flashed her a small cautious smile. They stuck out like sore thumbs. She didn’t belong here, but Steve Harrington was too good looking to be in this shitty bar. It’s like your friends could read your mind. Chrissy pinched you in the side and Heather let out a childish giggle.

“Don’t even think about it, Y/L/N. Nancy’s had him on lock since, like, junior year.” You were well aware. 

“Don’t even worry about it. I’ll be smart…” You challenged. Your friends were very aware of your determination. If you wanted something, you got it. And Steve Harrington was on the menu. You watched the handsome couple stalk to one of the tall bar tables across the room from your seats. Steve’s eyes locked with yours and you licked your lips. No matter how hard he tried, like a magnet, your gaze kept him locked on you. The man felt a tug on his arm as Nancy shuffled him to the table. As their conversation lulled on, you couldn’t help but attract Steve’s eyes again. You waved your arm to Eddie for another shot.

“I think it’s time to have some water, doll” the mophead behind cooed. For the first time tonight you ruffled through your purse to find a folded 20 dollar bill. You placed it in the hem of your bustier and flashed your sultry eyes at Eddie.

“You want a tip or not, Munson? I think I have already shown you how much I appreciate your customer service.” The man’s cheeks grew flushed as he grabbed the bill out of your chest with nimble fingers - hoping that his hands didn’t slip. Another tiny glass full of liquid in front of you. Before you put it to your mouth, you raised your eyes to Steve, his mouth slightly agape, having seen the performance you had just put on at the bar. You raised the shot glass to him in salute, he blushed and turned his eyes back to his girlfriend. God, his fucking girlfriend. 

He watched your neck tilt back as the burning liquid slid down your throat. He had to stifle a small chuckle at your scrunched face at the reaction to your shot. Steve always thought you were effortlessly beautiful. But you were dangerous. A junior when he was a senior, he knew about the boys you had left in your wake. He made sure to stay away, betrothed to the girl sitting across from him at the bar. He sighed a choked breath of relief when Nancy coldly told him she was going to the bathroom then to get them some drinks. He let his shoulders shrug and rearranged his pants, which were a bit tighter than when he walked in. He wasn’t left in his silence for long. His shoulders shifted back up to his ears and his cheeks grew hot when he saw you saunter from the bar in his direction. His heart was in his throat and beating harder than ever. What the fuck was happening to him?

Your moment to strike happened when you saw Nancy’s pleated dress slither out of her barstool and towards the bathroom. You mirrored her and pushed your wobbling legs one in front of the other. You carried two glasses of brown liquor with you. Your face was calm and cool, but your hands were shaking as you crossed the dingy hardwood over to a beautiful head of hair. 

“So, what is King Steve doing in a place like this?” You didn’t dare take Nancy Wheeler’s spot. You wouldn’t want to be compared to the likes. You leaned your torso over the table, edging closer to the man than you would be on a stool. You preferred it that way, and you had a sense that Steve does as well.

“I could ask the same thing to you, Y/N.” He mumbled, but you can tell his confidence was growing.  “What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?”

“Who told you I’m a nice girl?” You purred. “You looked thirsty over here, and I thought, since you’re in my domain, I could show you some hospitality.” You slid the drink over to him with a black painted fingernail and picked yours up and stirred it suggestively. 

“Bottoms up then.” Steve grabbed the glass and clinked it to yours. Your heart stopped as you watched the beautiful man’s neck strain upwards to take his drink in one gulp. It took all of the drunken strength you could muster to not sink your teeth into his strong neck. His Adams apple bobbed in strain and the liquor made his cheeks bloom a darker red than they already were. You sipped half of your drink, desperate to relieve some of the tension running through your body, but you felt like you would completely crumble if you downed it all in one go.

“So.. you and Nancy… That’s pretty… serious?” You couldn’t help the venom that seethed out of your lips. Steve cleared his throat and stared into the bottom of his empty glass. He shrugged his shoulders. You couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Trouble in paradise, King Steve?” you jest. 

“Nah, It’s just… it's been a few years I guess.” Steve’s voice was cold. You sighed audibly. The alcohol and the pure lust was getting to you, and you could barely contain yourself.

“Too bad… the word on the street is I could treat you much better.” You could barely bring yourself to look into his eyes, but when you did, you were met with an intense stare. You couldn’t read all of the emotions behind his eyes, but it made your core quiver. 

“Word on the street is you know how to treat a lot of people.” Steve scoffed. His defenses were up. Why in the world were you coming to him now? He had always stolen looks at you. He knew how magnetic you were. He wished he knew you in high school. Maybe then he wouldn’t be stuck working at his dad’s law firm. With a girlfriend who he felt stuck with; no sense of adventure, no true love in sight. But then you sauntered up to him and made his heart believe in life again.

“Well you aren’t wrong. But I only have eyes for one right now.” You winked. 

“Wish we could have had this conversation three years ago…” Steve whispered, hoping that you didn’t hear him. You were delectable, and laid out in front of him; and he knows that if he were to have a few more drinks, he would have forgotten all about the girl that he had come here with - his… girlfriend. Fuck, his girlfriend. You flashed him a pout and a disappointed smile. You had him eating right out of your hand. 

“Well… Let me give you this.” You pulled out a sharpie from your purse and pulled his wrist towards you, pulling up his sweater sleeve. You began to scribble your phone number onto his olive skin. You had to breathe slowly to keep yourself from shaking. “Call me tomorrow if you want to pretend it was three years ago.” A look of need flashed on your face. You had been absorbed by Steve Harrington. It had felt like all of the bar had disappeared and it was just the two of you. Steve could feel that too, he had you right where he wanted you, totally absorbed and infatuated. You couldn’t help but think of Nancy and it made you shiver. You couldn’t have her invade this. Fuck his stupid girlfriend. You were determined to make Steve Harrington yours. 

The two of you stayed transfixed on each other for a moment more. Steve fixed his gaze between your face and the new ink that you had given him. He wanted to nurture it like it was a real tattoo. You couldn’t help but take mental pictures of Steve’s face, so you could imagine whatever meathead you ended up taking home that night was him. You wondered what he would look like underneath you, gasping and panting for breath. What his skin would taste like: sweaty and sweet and musky. You wished that you could take his fingers and put them in your mouth right now. You were thirsty, parched for his lips on yours. You wanted to show him what you looked like underneath him, you wanted him to hear you moan his name. You wanted to fuck his brains out, the way you knew Nancy “White Bread” Wheeler doesn’t. You were connected, and it scared you because for the first time in forever, you wanted to fuck, but you also wanted him to hold you, to tell you that you’re beautiful. You wanted him to hold your hand and buy you flowers and take you out. You wanted to cook for him and play with his hair and rub his back. 

You were torn from your world when you heard a small ‘ahem’ from behind you. Steve quickly adjusted his posture and pulled his sweater sleeve over his new love mark. You stood up straight and turned to see the frizzy haired brunette tapping her pleather pumps at you… tacky, you thought. 

“Can I help you with something?” She peeped. “Or is there another reason why you’re over here talking to my boyfriend?” Nancy’s angry eyes flicked between the two of you and her brow was furrowed. Your gaze had hardened and you couldn’t help but chuckle; she looked like a toddler and an old woman at the same time. Steve’s cheeks remained a rosy pink. He had found whatever was on the floor oddly interesting. You took a step towards the girl.

“Nothing at all, darling. Just thought I would say hello to an old friend and grab him a drink.” You breezed past her, knocking her lightly on the shoulder. 

“See you around, Harrington.” You sang behind you. You couldn’t see her anymore, but you assumed that if looks could kill, you would be on the floor. You strutted back to Chrissy and Heather and slumped back to your stool. You exchanged mischievous glances with the girls, and then turned proudly to Eddie, who was flashing you a disappointed look. A victory for you, a loss for Nancy Wheeler - or at least you hoped.

Steve continued to stare at the ground while Nancy eyed him suspiciously. 

“What the hell did she want, Steve?” she pried. Steve huffed before looking up at her. Her eyes didn’t glimmer at him like yours did. 

“She just came over to say hi…. I hadn’t seen her since Senior year.” 

“Did you even talk to her senior year? You know the reputation she has…I don’t like her, and I don’t like her talking to you, Steve,” within the past year, he had thought of Nancy more like his mother than his girlfriend. He had been growing more and more confused lately. The love seemed to be lacking and he had caught himself wondering what his life would be like if he left it all behind, left her behind and started over. You made the idea of abandonment way more appealing. He felt himself growing unreasonably angry with the blue eyed girl sitting across the bar from her. He needed to defend you. You were the only thing on his mind.

“Who the hell cares, Nancy? What do you think that she was going to do? Fucking make out with me in front of everyone? She asked how we were doing. She asked about you and me. Chill out and have fun or let’s just get out of here.” He scowled. Nancy was taken aback and slid a chilled PBR across the table to Steve with a scoff. She drank her vodka cran in silence. Steve couldn’t help but let his eyes wander to your figure laughing and smiling with your friends. He wanted to laugh with you. He downed his drink, took Nancy's hand silently and pulled her towards the door. She had a permanent frown on her face as Steve pushed her through the door. Before his body disappeared from the door, he took one more glimpse at you. Your eyes locked one last time and you sent him a wave as he disappeared into the Hawkins night. If he couldn’t have you, he’d fuck Nancy until he forgot about you. 

It was 3 am and your body literally couldn’t peel itself off of the plastic bar stool. Chrissy and Heather had gone home with Jason and Andy - your appetite spoiled when you watched the only person you wanted to be with leave the bar without you. You heard the stomps of old reeboks and the jingle of keys come up behind you. The lights had suddenly gone out.

“Come on, doll. Let’s get you home okay?” Eddie pulled you off the stool and wrapped your arm around his shoulder. 

“Can you stay over, Teddie?”

“Not this time, honey. You need sleep and you need water. You aren’t thinking straight.”

You pouted quietly, but you decided to finally take no for an answer. The thought of sinking into your bed and hoping - praying - that Steve would call you.

Steve had pulled Nancy into his bedroom of his parents’ empty house. He feverishly pulled at Nancy’s belt as she fumbled with the zipper at the side of her dress. Steve’s mouth didn’t leave her skin, and his eyes remained shut, save to navigate himself around his house. A flurry of clothes, soft sighs and sweaty skin. Steve had only had two drinks, but he felt drunk thinking of your encounter at the bar. He pressed his eyes closed as he mouthed at Nancy’s chest, wishing it was yours. He slid down her torso pondering what sounds you would make if he was kissing towards your sweet center. He pulled Nancy’s panties to the side and swiped his tongue along her heat, thinking about how delicious you would taste. He then flipped Nancy over on all fours and slid into her with a grunt. He couldn’t stand to look at her, wishing her body was yours, wishing her sounds were yours, wanting to hold you in his arms after. Steve finished quickly, his perversions towards you spurring him on. 

The couple collapsed into Steve’s king bed. Nancy traced small circles on his chest while they caught their breath. Steve felt satiated, his hunger for you ebbed, for now. 

“Steve! What’s on your arm?” Nancy yelped. Steve’s heart dropped into his chest. He frantically turned himself away from his girlfriend. Nancy’s small hands grabbed Steve’s shoulder to turn him back to her. Her nails drug down to the tattoo you had given her boyfriend and her face began to heat up.

“What the fuck is this, Steve?”

-

Taglist: @eddies-acousticguitar @mmunson86 @sadbitchfangirl @hideoutside @anxiousobserver @ali-r3n @brinleighsstuff @@filth-fiction-archive @vintagehellfire @kirstinjayjay @poofyloofy @sluggzillaa @aol19 @dark-angel-is-back @keikoraven @emxxblog @adrenalineeerevolver @crybabyddl @lovemegood @cherry-pop3547 @cozmiccass @leelei1980 @trixyvixx @skylar-ish-meh @harrysgothicbitch @emsgoodthinkin @micheledawn1975 @wendyfaw @thehuntresswolf @darknesseddiem If you would like to be included in my taglist, please fill out this form and consider following!

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #king steve #king steve harrington x toxic!fem!reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x nancy wheeler #carly writes #steve harrington angst #stranger things #anti endgame #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve x you #stranger things au #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #stephen

[elliewlums]

𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟𝐟 [𝐚𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧]

pairing: aemond targaryen x velaryon!reader

summary: aemond lets you sleep off a hangover

content warnings: yes this is fluffy. yes i know this man is not canonically kind. i don’t care. it was fun to write. legit just reader sleeping in aemond’s arms. if this does well i will write smut 4 him soon (request it pls😡)

i was lacking inspiration so i picked a prompt that resonated with me from this list by @rosewritingprompts; letting them sleep when they should be awake

you’re exhausted; your eyes are drooping, your vision blurred as you try your hardest to focus on the pages of the book in front of you. and just as your head begins to sway with fatigue, you feel a familiar hand tipping your chin upwards. aemond hums, piercing blue raking over your tired features. despite his stoic expression, you know better than to assume he’s displeased. in fact, he’s enamoured with you— enamoured despite your swollen eyes and hoarse voice, despite your mussed hair, your raging hangover.

“i did wonder what trouble you and my dear brother got yourselves into last night,” he chastises.

“perhaps not my brightest idea,” you rasp, relying on his grip to keep you upright when his hand moves up to cradle your cheek. he smiles, fondness softening his perpetually sharp features.

“no, perhaps not.” he agrees. you tug at the ends of your velvet sleeves uncomfortably; your body is numb from sitting in the wooden library chair, muscles stiff and seized tight additionally from your ridiculous drinking antics with aegon.

“come here.” he murmurs. “you need to rest.”

you shake your head fervently.

“i don’t have time. i’m tutoring luke today.”

“you have time,” he soothes, lithe arms snaking around your waist and coaxing you to stand. his breath is hot in your ear. “aegon is still in his chambers.” he snorts, somewhere between disapproving and amused. your responding giggle is quiet. you’re in good spirits despite your pounding migraine.

“can we go to the gardens?” you ask suddenly. aemond flushes hot with affection and nods, unable to deny you anything you desire.

“as long as you promise to sleep.”

“promise.”

“to the gardens, then,” he says, patient when you fumble for his hand and follow behind him, alarmingly akin to a lost puppy. only for you is he so placid.

you make a beeline for the towering oak tree you love so dearly and before you can sit, aemond does first; he presses his back against the bumps and ridges, settling you between his legs and murmuring lowly as your entire body softens against his own. you curl into his chest, tip your face up to nudge his jaw with the very end of your nose.

“will you wake me?”

“of course.”

“do you promise?” a blinding smile cracks his face in two at your trivial question, asked so seriously. you swat his chest lightly. “i’m not jesting! mother will have my head if i’m late.”

he relents. those doe eyes have him entirely lovestruck. “yes, i promise.”

“good.” he presses a firm kiss to the crown of your head and rubs up and down your clothed arms in huge, sweeping motions. you hum appreciatively.

it’s not long before your breaths even out and you go lax, soft with sleep. you sleep heavily and you’re difficult to rouse with your face buried in aemond’s clothes. you tend to sleep more heavily in his arms.

fortunately for him, he’s spared from the task of waking you when jace stumbles upon the pair of you. he immediately shouts something indecipherable into your ear and you startle, unhappy.

“jacaerys!”

“get up.” he gripes, stopped short from grabbing you by aemond’s protective arms around your squirming body.

and if looks could kill… well, you try to avoid the thought of aemond killing. you’re all aware of what he’s capable of, but dwelling on the fact that he has proven himself dangerous at times only serves to send you into bouts of panic. you know he’d never harm you, not even a little, and the danger is never directed towards you; you do, however, fear for your siblings.

“must you be so loud and unpleasant?” you ask pointedly. jace grins.

“i pride myself on being loud and unpleasant, sister.”

“i hate you.”

you stretch and reluctantly unfurl yourself from the warmth of aemond’s embrace. before standing, you press a tender kiss to his shoulder.

“i will see you later.” you say, though you frame the sentence similar to a question with the upward intonation of your speech.

“yes.” he affirms. “and no more drinking.”

“no,” you giggle. you don’t press for another kiss, aware of his boundaries surrounding public affection, but he does reach for your hand, smoothing his thumb over your knuckles before letting you go. once jace has bounded ahead, as is his way, you turn and blow him a kiss. he smiles lazily.

he thinks you ridiculous for your unbridled adoration towards him. you remain unaffected. he’s sullen but he’s not unfeeling, and you know how much he cares for you.

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x velaryon!reader #velaryon!reader #house of the dragon #aemond fluff #aemond fic #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond targaryen fic #writer #writers on tumblr #fanfic #fanfic writing

[admirablespoling]

Listen, I know that feelings are mixed in this tag right now but hear me out.

The high of late June is gone and many of us here are still picking apart the crumbs for hope.

However, I want to discuss what I’ve seen going on lately in the general ST fandom. I noticed that many people beyond us Bylers are talking about the Mike/Will/El dynamic of season 4. The love triangle is unresolved and I’ve seen, specifically on TikTok and Twitter, lots of Mike-centered discourse. Melvins are pounding the pavement to defend their ship against even the most casual fans who point out that the build up to the love confession/the confession itself was suspicious or that Mike was an oblivious idiot to Will. People are rooting for Will and I think this was the goal- to make the arc of Byler feel earned, not rushed. Slow burn.

Essentially, I have been seeing a lot of these things happening:

Melvins feeling defensive over the state of their ship. Taunting Bylers and berating anyone who criticizes Mike/Melvin online.

Regular viewers noticing Mike’s inconsistencies and questioning things like his love at first sight lie and how he needed Will to get him to confess.

Bylers feeling defeated. We saw it a lot sooner than others so for us it’s a let down, for others it’s a discovery.

Even though we were disappointed in V2, the Duffers actually did their job. Will is canonically gay and his bestie just happens to be having a very Will-centric and confusing set of circumstances. Yes, there are still people who don’t even notice Will is queer. Those are lost causes. But many people are truly starting to catch on and are more open to the idea of Byler while Melvins are for some reason at their most feral (from what I’ve seen at least).

Just thoughts to keep us all grounded and realize we do not exist here in a bubble and the Duffers managed to get their point across well enough for general audiences to start discoursing around this love triangle being legit, not some joke/one sided thing. People picked up on the imagery in the “two days later” shots (couch, final shot) that were drenched in symbolism.

Remember- the first shot of Mike was in front of his one way sign and closet. They kept him in the closet this season but the door’s not closed. I really think they haven’t derailed Byler, they just got lots of people to see it for the first time in both V1 and V2. The symbolism and subtext never let up all season. It wasn’t the ending we wanted but I don’t think Byler is dead in the water by any means.

Thanks for coming to my Ted talk.

#byler

[whoseyscientist]

BEST BATMAN FICS I’VE READ 3 BRUCE WAYNE FOCUSED

Hihoo Here’s some more crazy good batman fics with a particular focus on the sad angsty man in the bat suit because I love him so! Mix of gen/batfam and shipping stuff cause I just wish him well in life c:

As I was making this list I realised alot of them were one-shots huh the more you know- mix of mainly one-shots and the occasional epic lengths lol

= General/ Batfam =

Nominal

https://archiveofourown.org/works/8613352

Don't ask why Batman is sad unless you're willing to give him the time to consult his spreadsheet.

(legitimately?? funniest batman fic I’ve ever read, one-shot) 

The Jason Project

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19899613

Jason had just wanted to see his autopsy report, he had only wanted to know what information Bruce had about his death. And when Bruce hadn't given it to him, he had stolen it. He hadn’t meant to stumble upon the bucket list of a dead child and the footage of a grieving father crossing one item after another off the list.

(^ short, sweet and very emotional)

More Precious Than Gold

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13273611/chapters/30371190

Most dragons sleep on their hoards.

Bruce's hoard sleeps on him.

Or: Bruce is a dragon. Predictably, he hoards orphans.

(so, so goddamn cute, two shot)

Manor-Dad lets me drive the Batmobile

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19002637/chapters/45125308

Bruce had two options when Dick found the Cave. 1) Tell him the truth. 2) Go along with Dick’s excited “You’re dating Batman!” until he figured out the truth.

Several children later Bruce wished he’d gone with option 1) or he wouldn’t have to deal with all his kids believing he and Batman were separate people. Yes, even Damian.

(Unfinished but still so very funny, crazy good fic)

dad time

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20434550

five times the justice league misinterpreted batman's actions + one time they absolutely did not

(Bruce just proudly showing off his kids in League business is so canon lmao, one shot, also this author in general has some quality batfam content legit)

Cingulomania (Sometimes, Dad Needs a Hug)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29690424#main

‘Right,’ Tim said, in the voice he used on missions, ‘we’re going to have to call in an expert.’ * ‘Hey guys!’ Dick said, voice slightly crackly over Tim’s phone speakers. ‘What’s up? I’m not supposed to visit until tomorrow - is something wrong?’ - Something is seriously not right with Bruce. They’re a family of detectives and no one can figure it out. It’s kind of embarrassing.

They’re all starting to get worried. - (Sometimes, Bruce needs a hug.)

(^ Feeding my bruce is touch starved agenda quite nicely, one shot)

A Hero Lost

https://archiveofourown.org/works/40358904/chapters/101096682#workskin

When Jason Todd died on that fateful April day, Bruce was tempted to just... stop. To let the world know he was Batman, and that it'd just lost a hero in Jason Todd.

And so he did.

It didn't keep him from mourning the death of his son.

Or: Bruce quits being Batman in the wake of Jason's death, tells the world who he is, then retires to Montana and slowly finds healing. And when Jason comes back to life six months later, and Talia tells him 'you remain unavenged,' he can't find any evidence to support that, so he goes home.

(^ Truly, truly beautiful, it’s a short read but very much worth it)

In For a Pound Series

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17558375/chapters/41378861

25 is too young to be a Dad. That's what Bruce thought when Talia dropped off this baby she claimed was his. Add to that a jealous 11-year-old Dick, and Bruce has his hands full. What does one even do with a baby? Why does this baby scowl so much? And when on earth is Talia coming back?

(^ Very good series with some very fun batfam shenanigans)

Matches

https://archiveofourown.org/works/8074405

What in the hell kind of name for an alias is Matches?

(one-shot, silly, very funny dialogue- bruce is so awkwardly charming I love it)

= Shipping =

Whoever Falls First

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7679041

"There's more kryptonite out there. When the Superman returns, there's going to be an all-star battle royale in the criminal underworld. Every megalomaniacal freak will want a piece of it so they can get a piece of you. And some of them will manage. They'll weaponize it and won't hesitate to use it against you, and when that happens I will not have you flailing around like an idiot."

aka: Bruce teaches Clark how to fight.

(have I recommended this before? I can’t remember, either way it’s immaculately written, superbat one-shot)

pull out the pin

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42361755

Revulsion curled in Clark’s gut, instinctual and sudden. He knew, without knowing how, that the creature wearing Bruce’s face was not Bruce.

“Oh boy,” Not-Bruce cracked its neck, turning its grin on the rest of the group, “You do not want to be in this head, let me tell you.”

(superbat and sooo good, also do yourself a favour and just read all of this authors stuff, its always a banger)

Dilectus Meus Mihi...

https://archiveofourown.org/works/301669/chapters/482974

Clark Kent has lost all his memories of being Superman, and Bruce Wayne must retrain him in the use of his powers. But his super-powered identity isn't all he's forgotten...

(two shot, fun and sweet, just superbat falling in love again <3)

my body is an orphanage (we take everyone in)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12683415

He can stand in a room with the League members and receive surreptitious glances from each one of them individually, each one of them trying to communicate with the intensity of their eyes some sort of camaraderie with Bruce, us against the world, which would be funny, would be far less bitter and ironic, if he wasn’t so desperate to affirm with each of them in turn, yes, you are my friend, for better or for worse.

So he lets them have sex with him because it seems like that means a lot to them.

(^ ace bruce!- incredibly bittersweet with a very sweet ending, poor bruce man :c)

ship-to-ship combat

https://archiveofourown.org/works/39666915/chapters/99302841

"Clark. What the hell is this," Lois asks, staring at Clark's Bruceman WIP folder. Clark's first instinct is to fly away, but that would still leave his fic on display for her to see. His second instinct is to blast a hole straight through his laptop screen with his heat vision, which isn't much better.

Clark, in an attempt to make some spare cash, unintentionally stumbles into the world of superhero fanfiction, becomes a prolific writer for Gotham's OTP, and tries his best to fend off rival fans who want him to convert to superbat instead.

(^ i really just assume everyones already heard of this one cause it’s just- really well written but its superbat and bruceman(LOL) it’s un-finished but hilarious and surprisingly real and emotional)

as to which may be the true

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7880368/chapters/17998981#main

It isn't difficult to go on in the wake of Superman's death. His resurrection, though, poses a problem—especially when it turns out there's no such thing as the right moment to explain that Martha Kent's obnoxious billionaire friend? Is also the man who tried really hard to shove a kryptonite spear through Clark's face.

(I love post resurrection content it’s so good, superbat)

Nine Tenths

https://archiveofourown.org/works/426785

In which the man who's faster than a speeding bullet is pretty slow on the uptake. Bruce corrects this problem the only way he knows how: by being smarter than the average bat. Stark is more than willing to lend a hand.

(this is so cute, gotta love some jealous superbat, also Clark being the one that hates a random hero for literally no reason is fucking hilarious I love it everytime lol)

Remembering Normal

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11494842/chapters/25786338

Hal Jordan is a totally normal alpha, and definitely NOT gay. At all. Like, even a little. Except there was this once. . .

(steamyy, this author has such an insane grasp on bruce and hal as characters its actually insane, their lvl of dialogue is something I aspire for, batlantern)

Late Night Talks

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34941634

Two-face's new partner looks a lot like Bruce Wayne. Surely that doesn't mean anything...

(Twobat, oneshot and the first introduction I’ve ever had to two face/matches malone)

#there's probably more but I can't think what they might be so this is it for now :p #batman #batman fanfiction #dc #dc fanfics #bruce wayne #batfam fanfiction #batfam fanfic rec #batman fanfiction recs #ao3 #superbat fanfiction #batlantern fanfiction #If I make another one imma find more duke fics- love that kid

[masterwords]

standing still

Summary: Hotch & Reid travel to Connecticut for a custodial interview with Chester Hardwick before he's put to death. Their trip does not go smoothly. (ASD!Hotch & ASD!Reid, plus some Hotchgan.) (Coda to 3x14 - Damaged)

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan (but Derek is barely in the story)

Warnings: vomit, meltdown, food, depression, anxiety, divorce, canon-typical mention of crime/murder

Words: 6k

Notes: Ah, well, an idea on a whim yesterday produced 6k words overnight. Where did it come from? I don't know. But it's here. And it puts me over 50k words posted for the month of January which is pretty fucking cool.

**

The hotel is haunted.

Supposedly.

Hotch has heard the stories enough times, he's stayed there plenty over the years. Back when custodial interviews were more common and the jet wasn't an option, and he was the new guy on the block drawing the short straw. Never experienced a ghost that he's aware of, but if he has, they're very hospitable. He likes this hotel. The beds are comfortable, the continental breakfast is simple and predictable, the water pressure in the showers is strong. Not blast your skin clean off of your body strong but pounding those knots out of your muscles strong.

So, if it's haunted, he really doesn't care. But Reid has been doing some digging and he's excited to talk to locals about it. He doesn't believe in ghosts, per se, but he loves to collect stories. So, the hotel is haunted, and people say the prison is too. One of the cell blocks, anyway. He wants to ask the Warden about it in the morning. Connecticut is rife with stories of hauntings that go all the way back to the Headless Horseman.

“Have you heard about the prison? They say it's haunted by a former inmate who was killed by a group of guards. I guess the guards got to a point where they wouldn't go on that cell block, so they turned it into a storage facility. Funny, too, that a prison that still conducts executions is so focused on one death. You would think the whole place would be crawling with the souls of the dead prisoners.”

“I've heard,” Hotch replies quietly, staring at the road. He's lost in his mind. “But I haven't paid it much attention.”

“Well, I don't believe in ghosts but it's fascinating the way these stories take hold. The grip that they have on people, even rational people who say they don't believe, is powerful. People say they've seen file cabinets levitating and they hear moaning and screaming from that end of the prison at the full moon."

“A few minutes of fame can make someone say just about anything. We've seen it plenty of times during cases.”

He's not able to focus on the conversation for long. It comes in bits and pieces, scattered moments between the phone buzzing angrily at his thigh. It's Haley calling. Every fifteen minutes she calls, lets it ring and ring, then leaves a voicemail. That's 20 angry voicemails, give or take, by the time they get there if she keeps up at her current pace. 20 tirades that he has to listen to even though his gut tells him not to. Just delete them, he knows exactly what she wants.

She wants him to sign the papers. He's got them in his go bag. The plan is to read them again, really read them this time, but he doesn't want to and he's definitely putting it off. Derek already read them once. He went through them with a fine-tooth comb, because he's not emotionally involved...not like that anyway. He gave them his seal of approval. “It's all legit, man. She just wants to dissolve the marriage, let you guys manage the rest on your own. It's a good deal. You already gave her everything anyway...”

He's going to be sick if he doesn't eat something. It's a sudden realization, he's been ignoring that pang in his stomach so long that it's practically an emergency now. Up ahead is a roadside diner with a sign that's half lit up in bright yellow bulbs (the other half are in dire need of replacement but by the looks of it they have no real plans to do so). Hotch knows it's a gamble with Reid but it's one he's willing to take. The alternative is worse. Much worse.

“Let's get an early dinner here.” It's barely past lunch time, but he doesn't plan to eat again so that's just how it comes out. Aware that he sounds elderly, an old man after his early bird special, he smiles and tries to play it off casually but his stomach hurts so bad it's hard to hide. “They don't look busy, it'll be fast.”

“Diners aren't known for their cleanliness.”

“It's the only place around for miles. I'm sure we'll be okay.”

Inside, it's exactly what Hotch expects. Emerald green vinyl booths with silver plated tables, the look of every ice cream soda shop from the 1950s. Well, the idyllic version of that decade that mainstream media wants you to feel nostalgic for, anyway. There are framed movie posters on the wall with Ronald Reagan's face on some, Betty Boop on others. Reid looks around and frowns. He's not confident in this place but he walks inside anyway, stepping carefully around the bubble gum and sticker machines in the small entry. One quarter for a hard gumball that tastes like fruity plastic and threatens to chip your tooth until you can manage your way through the exterior. A dentist's worst nightmare. And they're not individually wrapped, just sitting there in the clear glass calling out to children who don't know any better. He shudders at the thought.

At the hostess station, he peers at the framed health department notices hung cockeyed on the wall in cheap frames, studying the dates of their last checks and whether they passed inspection. He eyeballs the kitchen, the greasy flat top, the cooks sweating and swearing and laughing over them. They both look relatively clean, but one has a beard and he's not wearing anything to cover it. It's not exactly a nightmare scenario, it's actually better than he'd anticipated, but he still would rather not eat here. He's got plenty of pre-packaged safe foods in his go bag.

The restaurant isn't busy, though it looks like they've just missed a rush by all of the full dish bins. They're between meal hours. That's a blessing, it affords them time and quiet, both things that Reid can tell Hotch needs. He's usually pretty reserved but today he's a whole new level of difficult.

Hotch slides into his side of the booth immediately, like he needs to sit down before he collapses. The cracked vinyl groans under his weight and he tries to find a spot that's comfortable. Reid reaches into his pocket and pulls out a packet of Lysol wipes, first getting his side of the table and then his side of the booth. Hotch pays no attention; he's already looking at the menu. Reid always wipes everything down first and it normally doesn't bother Hotch, he finds it endearing if not a little pointless considering the surroundings, but today everything that everyone is doing makes him feel itchy and like he's going to vibrate right out of his skin.

His stomach is bothering him. It's the stress. He can't stop thinking about the voicemails, wondering if he should go outside and listen to them. He could grab some Tums from his go bag while he's out there, kill two birds with one stone but he doesn't want to get back up. He's exhausted by the mere thought of it. Besides, the stomachache will turn into a headache in no time anyway and the Tums will be just as pointless as Reid's Lysol wipes.

“What are you going to order?” Reid asks absentmindedly, looking over the freshly cleaned menu. He's thinking about the cook and his beard, trying to figure out what he can order that's going to require the least amount of human interaction with his food. A piece of pie might be it; he saw them in the case already sliced and covered in plastic. He likes individual pre-packaged servings. It's doubtful they were baked here, he figures they're factory made and packaged by machines, the human part of it being minimal. He could probably get away with not thinking about who sliced it.

But then a slice of pie isn't dinner, and he is hungry.

“I don't know,” Hotch replies quietly, not at all hungry. But he's the one who decided to pull over so he's going to have to order something. He'd just wanted to stop driving, to catch his breath for a minute. Now he's got to come up with some food item that won't upset his stomach further, something that won't kill him when it comes back up later. He's already anticipating a rough night. “Maybe soup and some toast.”

“Did you know that in many restaurants, the soup of the day is made using whatever leftover ingredients are on the verge of needing to be thrown out as a way to curb waste? I saw that the soup of the day here was the tomato basil with garlic toast points, so...”

Hotch frowns behind his menu without looking up. “I suppose I'm doing my part to stop unnecessary waste, then. Tomato soup sounds nice.”

It isn't the response Spencer was hoping for, but he shrugs and turns back to his own menu. Pie. He's going to have pie and he'll snack on the food he brought later. He hails a waitress, not theirs, and asks which pies are made in house. She answers with pride that they make most of them in house, their baker comes in at 3am every day and even makes the crust herself. There are only two they have shipped because the ingredients are hard to keep on hand. When their waitress comes by, he orders one of the two kinds they don't make here. “Pecan, please.”

Hotch orders the tomato soup without a second thought. It comes in a large white bowl set on a little plate with saltine crackers, and the deep velvety velvety crimson of the tomato is a stark contrast to the bowl's brightness. In the center is a dash what looks like basil or parsley and a swirl of heavy cream on top.

“I read that they blend up old vegetables from the salads for tomato soup,” Reid mutters, wiping his fork on his pant leg. There are dishwasher spots on it. “It helps bulk it up, especially when the cost of tomatoes is so high. That soup is probably mostly lettuce and carrots.”

“Reid,” Hotch says quietly, pressing his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. There it is, the headache. “Less commentary about the food I'm about to eat would be appreciated.”

Reid smiles awkwardly, twirling his fork in his hands. “Sorry. Force of habit. I find the restaurant business simultaneously fascinating and horrifying.”

Hotch doesn't acknowledge Reid's statement; he just picks up his spoon and swirls it in the soup. Clockwise. He turns it in one big circle around the edge, dragging the spoon along the bowl, and then swoops inward to fold the cream into the red. The soup turns a vibrant peachy-orange and he smiles, the color looks serene and peaceful. He thinks about lettuce when he takes his first bite, but thankfully isn't able to taste it. After three bites he doesn't think about lettuce anymore. He thinks about being a child, about weekend lunches of canned condensed tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. Every Saturday. Predictable. Comforting.

“Hotch,” Reid interrupts, and when he looks up, he's looking at crime scenes. Spread out in front of them, all over the table, his plate of pie lost somewhere in the middle of the gore...he didn't even realize Reid brought the files inside. It isn't that much of a stretch; the team often does this. They talk loudly about horrific things around the general public because what choice do they have? None of them even flinch at the sight of these things anymore. But not here. Not now. There are children eating with their parents two booths away. Hotch frowns. “Is this everything? I thought there were more. Chester Hardwick killed -”

“Please put those away.” Hotch doesn't care what Reid is about to say, he just interrupts him. His skin goes electric.

“We need to...”

“Not here.” He's about to lose it, he really is. Reid gives him a strange look, almost defiant and definitely confused, but he starts sliding the photos back into their folders just before their waitress brings Hotch his plate of whole wheat toast. He didn't want the garlic toast; his special order took an extra minute and now she was paying dearly for it. Involuntarily, she makes a displeased sound, a surprised little gasp, and he glances up at her with apology written all over in his honey eyes.

“I'm sorry,” Hotch says. “Sometimes we forget where we are when we're working.”

“What um...what is it you fellas do exactly?” she asks, refilling Hotch's coffee with trembling hands. He's on his third cup, his hands are trembling a little too. The coffee isn't making his stomach feel any better but it'll help him finish the drive.

“We're with the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI,” Reid chimes in, closing the last of the folders. “We um, we catch serial killers. Today we're on our way to interview one before his scheduled execution.”

She stares, wide-eyed, and Hotch sighs. Under normal circumstances he would just let Reid do what he does. He's not doing anything wrong, and he knows without a doubt that all of the problems he's having are his entirely. He's overstimulated and extra prickly today. “Thank you for the coffee.” He doesn't mean it to sound as dismissive as it does and he's acutely aware as she turns and leaves the table that he's been rude. “Reid, she didn't need all of that information. A simple answer would have sufficed.”

“Sorry,” Reid chirps, digging at his pie. He picks the pecans off of the top first. “Force of habit.”

“So you've said.”

This is their first trip together, one on one. Sure, they've been all over the country as a group, but it's never just been the two of them and Hotch is certain now that he's not in the right frame of mind to handle it. He likes Reid, he enjoys him and his info-dumps. He always learns something new when he's with Reid. Besides, it's startlingly nice to be around another person who doesn't think the same as everyone else, who filters the world through a different operating system. Those were Garcia's words when she, very bluntly, asked if he was autistic. Reid always assumed it, but Garcia had no qualms about simply asking.

She had asked after running into him in the break room and watching him go through his very regimented steps to make his cup of coffee. Not that he did anything out of the ordinary, she explained, just that he didn't get his coffee from coffee stands like everyone else. He always insisted on making his own and he always did the same thing. Dump the filter, clean the pot, make one single cup using his own bag of grounds and a bottle of water brought from home because he didn't like what the filtration system in the building did to the flavor of his coffee. He kept his grounds in a small paper bag in the back of the freezer with his name on them, and his water bottle was labeled as well. All the years she'd known him, it was the same thing, and they disappeared at a very regimented pace. She claimed it was obvious. He knew there was more to it than that, she was just being nice and overly simplistic. He tried not to overthink it, dwell on it...he almost succeeded, too. But he did dwell a little, wondering how many other things he did that were just odd enough to tip her off.

Ultimately it didn't make any difference.

“I don't like my coffee to be a surprise,” he'd said quietly, a little defensive. “Sometimes with coffee shops, you'll get a different thing every day even with the same order. They'll try to surprise you with more of something or less of something, or they'll change the beans they use, or the strength of the brew. I prefer not to guess whether my coffee is what I want.”

“It's okay, sir, I understand completely. I go to the same bakery every time because they've been around for fifty years with the same recipes.”

“Trudeau's?” Hotch asked, smiling. She nodded.

“The one and only. You always know what you're going to get, and it's always going to be good.”

The problem Hotch runs into frequently is that his operating system, so to speak, isn't like Reid's. Or Garcia's. He's the odd man out even here where he thinks he should be able to relate. He knows it's a spectrum, of course he knows that, but it doesn't stop him feeling isolated. The discouragement that comes from knowing how separate he is makes it hard for him to find a way to communicate it.

So, he doesn't. He keeps his mouth shut and his head down and he just forges on.

That Derek learned his tells early on was a mixed blessing. He'd groaned about being profiled, unwritten team rules, but secretly he thought it was nice to be seen.

If Haley wasn't so angry with him, maybe he'd be better able to manage his own expectations and reactions in this situation which was really going quite well, all things considered. He was so skilled at masking and managing that these days when he was raw and vulnerable and completely unable to keep his shields up were few and far between...but since the divorce papers were served, he couldn't name a single day he felt totally in control. Derek helps when he can, where he can. Derek has been a life raft in a raging sea, but he can't fix everything. He's got problems and a life of his own. He's got mountains to climb and traumas to heal. Hotch is acutely aware that he takes more than he gives frequently and needs to do better. Derek would vehemently disagree with that. But it doesn't matter, he's sitting at the table mortified by how rude he'd been to the waitress and to Reid, wishing Derek were here to help him back to the path.

But Derek couldn't come, not this time. Someone had to stay behind and run the BAU while Hotch was away without cell reception in a prison. It puts them all in a vulnerable position and anymore, he preferred to be the one to do it. Which left his second in command to man the ship. Hotch couldn't think of anyone better to run the team, and the fact that Derek had chosen to love him on top of all of his needs, in spite of all of that, he still isn't sure how it happened. He sometimes forgets he's lovable at all.

Today he's completely out of control. It's just fitting, in some way, that his version of out of control still looks very subtle if you don't look too closely. No one can tell he's breaking. He just looks grouchy. He's sure he'll make it to the hotel before the cracks in his armor start becoming visible.

“We should get back on the road. I looked up the traffic reports and if we're not in city limits by 4pm, we're going to be stuck on the highway for an average of thirty to sixty minutes longer than necessary.”

“You've hardly eaten your pie,” Hotch says, poking at his own barely eaten toast. He plans to finish the meal if it kills him, traffic be damned. “I'm not concerned about the time, we don't have anywhere to be until tomorrow.”

They get to the hotel in a reasonable time, not exactly as good as they'd hoped but not as bad as Reid feared. It's possible Hotch might have been going a little over the posted limits in places, but Reid wasn't going to tell anyone. It's still better than Emily's driving. He suddenly understands why Derek always holds the door handle when he's in the passenger seat, though.

“One room?” Hotch asks the clerk, exasperated at the sight of the one key card. He should have known. “They only booked us one room? Would it be possible to get another?”

“I'm sorry sir, there's a convention and a concert here tonight, we're booked solid. I might be able to find you two rooms somewhere else if you'd like me to call around. You'll have better luck just outside the city.”

Hotch knew this hotel. Sure, a second room would be nice but a hotel he wasn't familiar with sounded just a bit too much for him right now. He and Reid have shared a room before. It isn't ideal, not by a longshot, but it works. “No, thank you. One room is fine. There are two beds, though?”

“Yes, sir. It's a double queen. Non-smoking. No pets.”

“We don't smoke or have pets.”

The room is small. That's the first thing that Hotch notices. He's always had a single room here and he thinks it's the same size but with an extra bed. And speaking of beds...the second thing he notices is that the beds are not, in fact, queen sized. They are full, a whole size smaller. He sets his bag neatly on top of the bed closest to the door while Reid goes for the one further in... that's always how they do it. Hotch stays closer to the point of entry, no matter who he rooms with. And then he puts the Do Not Disturb sign on the door. He doesn't care for people coming into his room, to clean or not.

“You can take the first shower,” he offers, pulling out his suit for the next morning and hanging it up. There are voices next door, muffled but clearly a man and some children. Paper thin walls, he can hear everything the man is saying to the children. Telling them to be quiet, to quit stomping, to turn the television down. Reid nods and heads right for the bathroom with his Ziplock bag of cleaning supplies. He always brings his own in order to sanitize the tub and shower head before he uses them, and Hotch, knowing this, always offers the first shower. The first time Reid did it after he showered, he felt filthy. Like Reid was cleaning him off of the tub. Never again.

He doesn't care about who gets the first shower, otherwise. He kicks his shoes off and sits on his bed, leaning back against the bleach scented pillows in their over-starched cases and closes his eyes. His head is throbbing.

Reid leaves the bathroom smelling like Lysol and bleach and Hotch watches as he strips his bed of the comforter. “Did you know they don't wash these?” he asks, dumping it into the corner like it disgusts him. “They wash the blankets and sheets with all sorts of harsh chemicals, they go scorched earth, but rarely the comforter. Not unless it's visibly soiled.”

“I had no idea,” Hotch lies. He does know, he just...once again...does not care. He can't care about everything and he's got more than enough on his plate right now. “I'll take yours, if you don't plan to use it. I get cold.” That's the damn truth. Reid sleeps with the air conditioner on no matter what the season. Hotch can't take it.

“It's all yours.” Reid barely hides the disgust in his features as he tosses the green and gold comforter toward his boss. Hotch doesn't notice the look; he just wads it up beside him and is satisfied knowing he's got a little extra protection against the cold air assault later.

He decides to take a walk down to the vending machine for some pretzels, and that's when he pulls out his phone and listens to the messages. One after another, terse and angry, Haley tells him to sign the papers, to call him, asks him why he won't just do it. Two of the messages are from Jessica calmly telling him to get his head out of his ass and call one of them back. “If you won't talk to her, fine. Talk to me. Just call one of us. Either that or I'm going to assume you've been injured in the line of duty and start calling your bosses...”

Jessica gets the call. He would have tried Haley but he just...he can't. It'll turn into a fight.

"It's about damn time," she says through clenched teeth and he closes his eyes.

“I'm on the road,” he says quietly. “I've been driving all day with Doctor Reid. The constant phone calls and threats are a little much, don't you think?”

“We were worried.”

“No, you were worried. She's only concerned about my signature.”

“Fair enough. Just get it over with. Sign the damn papers.”

“I haven't had any time to read them.”

“You of all people should know exactly what's in there, and besides, I know you already asked Derek to read them. You don't trust him? What's really stopping you?”

He sighs and pushes the button that reads B9 for the pretzels. They get stuck on the way down, jammed between the spiral and the window, and he thinks that's it. He's going to cry. That's all it takes, one single second of that crinkly blue bag of Rold Gold tiny twist pretzels getting stuck right there and the tears are burning tracks down his cheeks. “I need time.”

He's pacing back and forth in front of the vending machine now, wearing a track in the dingy red carpet. His mind loops. The papers. The drive. The soup. The photos. The pretzels. Repeat repeat. He worries the pads of his fingers over his nails until they nearly bleed and his breathing speeds up. Jessica can hear it, she knows exactly what this looks like, but she isn't gentle. He passed on gentle hours ago when he ignored her calls, she figures.

“Suck it up. Read the papers tonight, sign them tomorrow. Be done with it, Aaron. Move on. She already has.”

“I'll read the papers tonight.” He repeats the one part of what she said that he can manage. It makes her pause, re-calibrate her course before she sends him into a tailspin. She's dangerously close and she does feel bad. She understands, Haley has been at her throat all day today too.

“Just sign the papers and I promise it'll make everything better. Do it for Jack, so you two can get back on good terms. Jack needs you both to remember how much you mean to one another. And I know Derek would like it if you'd let it go...please. Sign the papers.”

He can't breathe. He's standing with his back against the wall and overcome with the feeling that his legs are about to give out, the world is about to go dark, he's about to lose whatever shred of control he still held. His body is giving him what little warning it can, and it isn't much. He's better at listening now than he used to be. “I'll call you tomorrow when I'm back in town.”

“Sign the papers Aaron!”

She hollers it into the phone, one last demand. He barely hears it before he hangs up and stumbles back to the room without his pretzels, someone else can have them. He makes his way immediately for the shower, shutting and locking the door behind him.

Reid barely notices, he's got Chester Hardwick's photos spread out all over his bed and he's deep in thought. “The hot water takes a minute,” he says absently, as if Hotch is right there.

It doesn't matter, anyway. He's not going for the shower yet. He almost doesn't make it to the toilet before he vomits. Reid can definitely hear that, and it startles him, but he assumes it's food poisoning and he isn't at all surprised. That damn soup. Lettuce is notorious for salmonella. Hotch is happy to let him think it's food poisoning too, it's a harmless lie. Better than the alternative.

His shower is anything but relaxing. He presses his forehead into the tile so hard it hurts while his stomach cramps and he's worried he's going to throw up again but the pressure he keeps on his forehead stills the nausea. For now. He's not exactly crying, it's sort of just miserable gasping for air while the shower washes away his tears. He can barely breathe. His hands are balled so tight his fingernails cut crescents in his palms and he can feel the small spots of blood pooling there. Sign the papers, Aaron. Sign the papers, Aaron. Uncontested, that's what she wants. He doesn't have a problem with that part of it. He'd willingly give her everything, keep nothing for himself. That isn't it, that isn't it at all. He doesn't want to sign it because signing it is permanent. Right now there is still hope. He still wears the ring. She hasn't worn hers in a long time, sometimes it's around her neck and other times it's nowhere in sight...but his is still firmly in place on his finger. Hope. Some shred, however minuscule, still exists and the minute his signature is on that page it's gone.

And he's alone.

What's he supposed to do with the bare skin where the ring once sat?

He cries harder. The walls are paper thin and if someone on the other side is in the bathroom, they can definitely hear his miserable moaning. Sobbing. He collapses slowly, crumples, his joints folding and his limbs contorting until he's sitting in the tub in a ball sobbing into his kneecaps. He hasn't had a meltdown like this in years, not since Adrian Bale and that bomb put him in charge of the BAU and left him just about as vulnerable as he'd ever been. But he'd had Derek then, and he pulled through. The one constant good was Derek.

“Hotch? Are you alright?”

“Fine,” he grunts with his wet lips in tear pools against his knees. He can't make himself sound fine, but he knows Reid isn't going to push further. He never does. They may not experience things in the same way, but Reid can recognize a meltdown when he sees it and he knows better than to try and intervene. The last thing Hotch needs is extra attention.

He goes about his business instead, glad to be sure now that Hotch's soup wasn't killing him. He prepares, rehearses, but still listens. A meltdown isn't going to hurt Hotch but falling in the shower might and he's more than a little concerned about that. Statistics are overwhelming when it comes to shower related injuries.

When Hotch walks out of the bathroom in sweatpants and a t-shirt with red-rimmed eyes glassy and dazed, Reid doesn't say a thing. Not at first. He notices, it would be impossible not to, but he can't find anything to say about it, so he asks the question that's on his mind.

“What time do we need to be at the prison? I'd like to set the alarm now.”

“7am. We'll be done and on the road by 9am.” That's it. Hotch spreads the second comforter over his bed and he burrows beneath the blankets. That's all he's got in him. Reid stays up pouring over files he's already memorized, full of nervous excitement. Custodials always put him into a frenzied mindset. He hasn't done too many of them and this is definitely the most excited he's been. Chester Hardwick doesn't talk to anyone, refused their requests repeatedly.

The meeting with Hardwick is something neither of them wants to discuss once they're out of the prison. Once they're back in the fresh air under the bright blue sky, not locked up in a cement room with a madman who thinks killing a couple of FEDs will earn him a stay of execution. Maybe it would have, but Reid managed to talk their way out of it. The very thing that Hotch loves about Reid, and the thing that has been getting under his skin for the last day, saved their lives. He's grateful. It isn't lost on him. But it didn't stop him from shedding his jacket and tie, squaring up, almost hoping that Hardwick would try. He could take a beating for thirteen minutes, and he could give it right back. No way Hardwick would have managed to kill both of them, but he still feels guilty. His foul mood, that electric feeling, it didn't go anywhere while he slept. It only got worse.

Chester Hardwick's threats were enough to settle him, to bring him back to the reality where he's in charge, where he's in control.

But he knows he probably owes Reid his life. He starts with an apology that burns his tight lungs, and then explains that Haley wants him to sign the divorce papers uncontested. No lawyers. It's faster that way, he says. And her constant hounding has been getting to him more than it should.

Reid's answer is simplistic and sweet. He doesn't understand the complication, the intricate balance and Hotch smiles sadly. He just asks what Hotch wants and isn't that funny...because it doesn't matter. This whole thing is moving along full steam ahead whether he wants it or not. “What I want, I can't have.”

Reid seems to understand that much. He knows Hotch doesn't want to lose his family; he also knows that his family is already gone. He has no idea what to say, how to respond, but the silence screams so loud it almost hurts. He has to fill it with something. Part of him wants to bring up a conversation he had with the Warden about the haunted cell block, but he refrains. Hangs out in more neutral territory.

“Derek and the team will be back from Indianapolis by the time we get home. He'll know what to do.”

Hotch smiles and nods. “You're probably right.”

“It's a good thing we have him around, huh?”

“Yes,” Hotch whispers, feeling his heart beating wildly against his chest in a different way. Untamed but not painful. “It is.”

"Do you want to stop for lunch? I did some research and there's a diner about fifty miles ahead that gets good reviews." It's clean, that's what he means. None of the reviews talk about food poisoning or flies in the windowsills.

Hotch smiles wearily and nods. "Lunch sounds nice."

When they return to Quantico, Derek is already at his desk finishing up a detailed report of the case for Hotch. All the papers Hotch would normally do, he's already deep in the thick of before it's even asked of him. He hates it so much. But after talking to Reid for a few minutes earlier, he knows it's better to anticipate this one and get ahead of it. They'll have to defend their choice to take the jet and follow Rossi into his cold case that wasn't even on the BAU's radar.

"How was your day?" Derek asks, flipping the page. Reid shrugs and sets his bag down.

"Ultimately uneventful." If only Derek knew. Maybe he'd tell him later, but not now.

Hotch passes through the bullpen without looking at anyone. He just heads directly to his office and shuts the door.

He's got papers to sign.

Derek has his doubts about how uneventful things were, at least given Hotch's icy demeanor. Usually he would at least have greeted them, asked how the case went, asked how the reports were coming so he had a clue about what happened. He did none of those things.

Later, when everyone has settled into the late afternoon workload, Derek enters Hotch's office without knocking. He doesn't do that anymore. Hasn't in a long time. In one hand he's got a mug of tea, steaming and hot, and the other he uses to shut the door behind him.

“Hotch,” he says, approaching the desk cautiously. The divorce papers are right there, signed and ready to be handed over. There are damp places where the tears soaked in, and his bright gold ring sits right at the top. Derek already knows the answer to the question he's about to ask, but it dances over his lips nonetheless. “You good?”

Hotch looks up at him from beneath thick, wet lashes and shakes his head. “No.”

#aaron hotchner #spencer reid #derek morgan #hotchgan #hotch x morgan #criminal minds #fanfiction #autistic hotch #autistic reid #autistic aaron hotchner

[ronance4everbrainrot]

Stranger Things incorrect quote generator (Ronance Duo, Max and her Mom, randomly random shit)

Pt 3

Ronance Duo

Nancy: I know you’re deflecting by making jokes about how hot you are.

Robin : It’s not a joke.

Robin : *sniffles*

Robin : I’m a legit snack.

(She would 🥺😢✨ and she is ✨)

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Nancy: I’m going to take you out

Robin : great, it’s a date!

Nancy: I meant that as a threat.

Robin : See you at five!

(Yes)

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Nancy: Robin ... Why did you draw a pentagram on the floor?

Robin : Your text told me to satanize the house before you returned.

Nancy:

Nancy: I wrote sanitize, Robin

(welp)

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Nancy: Please, I'm begging you go to a doctor.

Robin : I'm sorry is this OUR stab wound? Stay out of it.

(idk why but it's canon)

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Nancy: How petty can you get?

Robin : I once edited a Wikipedia article to win an argument I was wrong about.

(Oof, I feel like Nancy would do it more likely)

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Robin: My head hurts.

Nancy: That’s your brain trying to comprehend its own stupidity.

(well Damn)

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Nancy: It’s dark in here

Robin : Don’t worry dude I got this

Robin : *Stomps their feet*

Robin : *Skechers light up*

(I feel like either Robin would absolutely love those shoes or she'd hate them with a passion)

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

[Robin Solos]

Robin: I regret getting dragged into your heterosexual tomfoolery.

(to Steve probably)

--

Robin: I have seen a lot of murders in my time, and all six of them were today.

(probably in the mall)

--

Robin: I just learned a way to get stuff on the cheap. Steal it!

(again Robin 'I'm poor' Buckley)

(I could have put them with the other Solos but I didn't think of that before.. Robin deserves a Solo solos tho lol)

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

[Max and her Moms]

Nancy: *rattles doorknob* It's locked, how do we get in?

Max: Don't even worry about it, picking locks is my specialty after all-

Robin: *throws a brick through the window* Okay. Let's go.

(I love that scene so much 😍✨)

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Nancy: Where is Robin?

Max: I don't know. They left.

Nancy: What? Why?

Max: We were watching Spongebob, and they stood up and said 'life is too short' and walked out.

(now I have a headcanon of Robin not liking Spongebob... 👍)

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Max: You were hurt, what do you remember?

Nancy: Just the ambulance ride.

Max: We didn't take an ambulance, I drove us.

Nancy: But I heard a siren?

Max: That was Robin.

Robin: Sorry, I was nervous.

(the fact Robin can't drive, so Max did is so funny to me and I love it! Canon.)

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

[add El]

El: I demand you to hug me.

Robin:

Nancy: That's how they ask for hugs.

Max: You'll get used to it.

(🥺🥺🥺🥺❤️❤️❤️❤️)

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Nancy: Whose turn is it to give the pep-talk?

El: *sighing* Robin's...

Robin: Fuck shit up out there, but don't die.

Max: *wiping away a tear* Inspirational.

(amazing 🥺)

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

[AU Camp Counselor, Enemies to Lovers Ronance]

Robin, greeting Max: Good morning!

Robin, greeting El: Good morning!

Robin, greeting Nancy: Not you. You can choke.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Nancy, about Robin: Apparently we're getting someone new in the group.

Max: Are we stealing them?

El: New or used?

Nancy: Wonderful responses, both of you.

(i don't even know what to say)

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Max: What did you do to your go cart?

Robin: Um, I'll let my mechanic answer that. Nancy?

Nancy: I reboarded the cylinder head, modified the intake valves on the injection system, added a blower and installed a 5 pound nitrous tank.

El: I put those stickers on!! *points at cute stickers on the cart's sides*

(El is so precious 😢✨holds gently 🤲)

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Nancy: How did none of you hear what I just said?

El: I've been zoned out for the past two and a half hours.

Robin: I got distracted about halfway through.

Max: Ignoring you was a conscious decision.

(just perfect 👌)

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

[Camping Trip but]

*The group is separated, trying to survive one night in the woods without each other*

Max: Nancy's probably running around screaming 'What's up' at plants.

Nancy, yelling at a tree: Oh, what do you want? What?!

Max: El at this point has to have stripped down and tried to become nature.

El, down to their shorts: Time to play a game of 'Can I eat you?' *looks at plant* Can I eat you?

Max: And god, I just hope Robin's not dead.

Robin, in a tent: Yeah, this is pretty uncomfortable.

(I feel like this is very accurate, idk why)

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

[add Chrickie (read: Crikey) lol]

Nancy: If you bite it and you die, it’s poisonous. If it bites you and you die, it’s venomous.

Chrissy: What if it bites me and it dies!?

Vickie: Then you’re poisonous. Jesus Christ, Chrissy, learn to listen.

El: What if it bites itself and I die?

Robin: That’s voodoo.

Max: What if it bites me and someone else dies?

Chrissy: That’s correlation, not causation.

El: What if we bite each other, and neither of us die?

Robin: That’s kinky.

Nancy: Oh my God

(the last three are accurate.. Because I feel like Robin would say that (but be embarrassed after realizing she said that in front of kids) and El fits perfectly, I think)

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

[Vecna stuff]

[Eddie again alive and with Vecna]

Vecna: So, I've been thinking Eddie-

Eddie: That's dangerous.

(it is dangerous, you are right Eddie)

--

Chrissy: What's wrong with you?

Vecna: Off the top of my head, I'd say low self-esteem, a lack of paternal affection, and a genetic predisposition for anxiety and depression.

(poor Venca 🥺🖕)

--

[Chrissy after Eddie was declared a murderer]

Chrissy: Why would anyone want to harm Eddie?

Vecna: Maybe because they met them?

--

Vecna: Joyce, my old friend!

Joyce: I think you tried to kill me at some point.

Vecna: That was obviously just my way of getting to know you.

(I read somewhere that Will was trying to kill Joyce or smth while being flayed but well it was the mind flayer and not Vecna..?..But still.....will would fit better tho)

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

[Jopper]

Hopper: I can’t tell if you’re a genius or just incredibly arrogant.

Joyce: Well, on a good day, I’m both.

(I feel like it's accurate? S1 ig? And S3?)

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Joyce: :)

Hopper: >:(

Joyce: Turn that frown upside down!

Hopper: ):<

Joyce: Not sure what I was expecting...

(it's them)

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

[Solos]

Steve: Here's two facts about me.

Steve: 1. I hate hot people.

Steve: 2. I'm a hypocrite.

(Yeah)

--

Steve: Sometimes I get so caught up on being gay that I forget I’m actually bi.

(this)

--

Steve: I'm against crime, and I'm not ashamed to admit it.

(he would tho.. Wouldn't he?.. Idk... Feels like a him thing to say)

--

Erica: I do two things and two things only. I devastate sorry motherfuckers, and get shit done as an awesome leader.

(Slay Queen)

--

Max: I think I mostly want to see what happens when this whole place breaks apart.

(well that aged badly)

--

Dustin: I’m a fool, not an idiot.

(he definitely is not an idiot)

--

Argyle: Pose as a team because SHIT JUST GOT REAL!

(Pose 📸)

--

Argyle: I can do anything I put my mind to. I once figured out Dustin's phone number just by choosing random numbers.

(He could tho...)

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

[Random Dous]

Steve: Swear words are illegal now. If you say one you'll be fined.

Eddie: Heck.

Steve: You're on thin fucking ice.

Steve: Oh no-

(How the turns have tabled)

--

Eddie: If I run and leap at Robin, they will most certainly catch me in their arms.

Eddie, running towards Robin: Coming in!

Robin: No! I’m holding coffee!

Robin: *Drops coffee and catches Eddie*

(We were ROBBED 😭)

--

*Argyle is speaking on the phone*

Argyle: Yeah, I'm with Robin.

Robin: Im fucking dying-

Argyle: Yep, they're okay.

Robin: I have a knife in my chest!

Argyle: No, they can't talk right now. They're sleeping, sorry.

Robin: IM BLEEDING OUT-

(👁️👄👁️)

--

Chrissy: Bro, I had a dream we fucked.

Nancy: Bro, relax it was just a dream.

Chrissy: Huh, gay, I wouldn’t fuck you.

Nancy: You wouldn’t?

Chrissy: I mean, unless you want to-

(👁️👄👁️)

--

El, upon learning how Nancy did a magic trick: So you’re not magic?

Nancy: Well, not really.

El: You’re just a liar.

(Friends. Don't. LIEEEE)

--

Nancy: Why would I flip my shit about that?

Jonathan: Because you flip your shit about everything.

Nancy: Well, will you look at this. Here is my shit, and yet it remains unflipped. Just sitting there on the skillet, getting burned on one side. It’s a miracle.

(probably what happened when Jonathan told her why he lied about college)

--

Hopper: GET BACK HERE YOU DUMB FUCK!

Mike: LET ME RUN FROM THE CONSEQUENCES OF MY ACTIONS!

(I didn't like but also loved their hug)

--

Hopper: You’re from Ohio, right?

Karen: Okay, first of all, my parents live in Ohio.

Karen: I live in the moment.

(I feel like this should be Canon)

--

Dustin: Change is inedible.

Erica: Don’t you mean inevitable?

Dustin, spitting out a bunch of pennies: No, I really didn’t.

(Love them 🥺)

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

[Random Trios]

Max: Guess what number I’m thinking of.

Eden: 420?

Max: No, that’s really immature of you. Someone else guess, and please take this seriously.

Robin: 69.

Max: Yeah it was 69.

(Eden smokes weed now tho)

--

Will: What happened to Jonathan?

Robin: They died.

Will: They what?

Robin: They died, but they’re okay.

Will: …Can you please clarify?

Jonathan: Clarification is for the weak.

(I love that and it's accurate for some reason)

--

Eddie, texting group chat: What flavour of ice cream do you guys want? I’m at the store so be quick!

El: Moose Tracks is good!

Mike: What the fuck is that!?

El: *Gasp* How dare you insult moo-

Mike: No. No no not that. What the hell. Why do you spell flavor like flavour. It’s like you have flavor but then this guy shows up and is like “Oui Oui Would you like chocolate flaVOUR or vanilla flaVOUR.

Eddie and El: what?

Mike: I don’t get it why add the EXTRA u when it’s PERFECTLY FINE AS IT IS!?

Eddie: You done now?

Mike: Yeah ok.

Eddie and El: ...

Mike: ...Can I have the Mint Chocolate chip flavour?

(Mike would react like that tho 👀 also El and Eddie like 👁️👄👁️)

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

[AU Hellfire and Will is a new member]

Eddie: We need to distract these guys

Erica: Leave it to me

Erica: Centaurs have six limbs and are therefore insects. Discuss.

Dustin, Lucas , and Mike: *Immediately begin arguing*

Will, watching in horror: Oh this. I don’t like this. I don't like this at all.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

[Random Last Thing]

Nancy: We call that a traumatic experience.

Nancy, turning to Will: Not a "bruh moment".

Nancy, turning to Erica: Not "sadge".

Nancy, turning to Steve: And DEFINITELY not an "oof LMAO".

(This is canon, change my mind)

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Congratulations! You've stumbled upon a secret message from me (the programmer of this generator): Remember to drink water. And also take your meds if you have those and are supposed to take them. Also, have a nice day if that's a possibility. I hope y'all are doing great, and remember: even if it's not pride month anymore, always respect eachother's pronouns!

(that's what randomly showed up once instead of any quote lol 🥺)

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Hope you liked it! Also I feel like I could have separated it better, like sometimes I did still did ✨✨ even tho I could have also just use --

You can comment or smth if anything bothers you! Have a great day/night/anything

✨❤️✨❤️✨❤️✨❤️ Lots of love

Sorry for the tags, idk what to tags so I just did a few characters

#nancy wheeler #robin buckley #max mayfield #eleven #steve harrington #eddie munson #dustin henderson #jonathan byers #argyle #stranger things incorrect quotes #Ronance #idk what else to tag

[rfxiii]

Random facts about my OC Riley Ramos-

Still not sure how I want to take her story pairing wise. I kind of headcanon she has a “thing” for Brad but would rather be shot than vocalize it. He’d have to make a move first. I was unsure where to go with pairing her with someone but my girl deserves to get some so I decided Brad would be easiest. I didn’t want to pair her with an important main character for fear of altering anything too majorly or getting any characteristic wrong and having them be too ooc. So I figured a secondary character who doesn’t have much screen time would be easier for my first OC/canon character pairing.

Was born in 1982. She’s twenty-two in 2004 (thirty-one by the main GTAV timeline)

She’s hooked up plenty of times but she’s never had a “real” boyfriend or girlfriend. Sex can be detached and mean nothing for either party, but actually being in a relationship means confessing feelings and that’s not something she knows how to do.

She wants to be loved but she’s not really sure what real love is.

Despite him being almost fifteen years older, Riley considers Trevor the closest thing she’s ever had to a best friend. They never really have deep conversations because trusting people comes very hard for her. But the talks they do have and things Trevor has willingly shared with her makes her feel closer to him than anyone she’s ever befriended before.

She doesn’t know how to swim and water scares her to death.

She’s 5’4 but only weighs about 90-100lbs. She’s absolutely fucking minuscule and she’s self conscious about it. She’s surrounded by guys that are nearly a foot taller and nearly a hundred pounds more than her and it makes her feel like she can’t hold her own in a physical fight if needed. (Spoiler: she can’t. Her punches are laughable but she’s really fast and usually carries a gun and knife so she doesn’t really have to worry.)

She can smoke a pack of cigarettes a day. She’s awful at remembering to eat, drink water, or sleep (ya know, the basics of being alive) but she’s never without a pack of cigarettes.

Gave herself a buzzcut when she was sixteen. She cried for a week after and has barely cut her hair since. Keeps it around mid back/waist length.

Covered in tattoos. Her dad knew a “totally legit” tattoo artist who started giving her tattoos at fifteen. Every few months she gets this stir crazy, manic energy and almost gets her face tattooed. Michael has talked her down from it several times. Trevor encourages her.

She was raised catholic. She doesn’t practice, or attend services. But she still owns, and wears every day, a Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe necklace her abuela gave her when she was a little girl.

The boys all have nicknames for her-

Michael: Ri, Ramos, Kid/Kiddo

Trevor: Ri-Ri, Sugar, Girly

Brad: Rils’, Princess, Babe

Has the coldest feet/hands ever.

Can’t drive. Like, at all.

Only cries once every few years. She’s full of stress, anxiety, and tons of unresolved emotions she has no idea how to express. And because tears are part of having emotions she never lets them out until she just can’t hold them in anymore. It usually happens when either A) something huge and catastrophic happens, or B) the littlest thing pushes her over the edge. It’s either one extreme or the other.

Imposter syndrome. No matter how skilled she gets, or how much money she makes working with the North Yankton boys, or anyone else she finds work with, she’s convinced she’s always just going to be the coke dealer from the trailer park. She’ll never feel like her skills, know how, or reputation will be good enough.

Speaks Spanish at the boys when she’s pissed at them. None of them speak Spanish so she’ll look them in the eyes and curse them with everything she has and they have no idea.

Had a dream that she said “I love you” to Brad once. She ignored him for a week and couldn’t make direct eye contact for even longer.

She’s bisexual.

She’s an Aries.

On top of being a bit of a coke fiend, she’s got a habit of drinking too much when she’s anxious, and she’s a massive stoner as well. Her coping mechanisms are all self destructive in one way or another.

3 songs that fit her:

¿ by Bring Me the Horizon feat. Halsey

MISA MISA! by CORPSE

Word Vomit by lozeak

#gta oc #riley ramos #oc stuff #self insert oc #personal

[lockedtombmemes]

Favorite Griddlehark fics?

Oh my friend, how much time do you have?

Many recommendations under the cut!

Behind the Locked Door by UnseelieWench

Cyberpunk college AU, where Harrow is a tech master rather than a necro. Rated T+. Complete.

Fifth House Farm by beyondtheskyline

Harrow is sent to a farm as part of her juvie detention rehab. The Tridentarii are there. Gideon fixes a car. Rated M. In progress.

Kill The Dream by ghostdriive

Divine Daughter AU. Rated T+. In progress.

Navegesimus by zoicite

Harrow Nova AU by one of my favorite authors. Rated M. In progress.

The Mystery of You by influorescence

High school AU. Rated T+. Complete.

Visions of Gideon by tothewillofthepeople

College AU ft. oh my god they were roommates. Rated T+. Complete.

Orchids in Ink by Moonblastbitch

A whole-ass series based on that one post where somebody got a tattoo and realized they had a praise kink when the artist said, "Good girl." Harrow's the tattoo artist. Ratings vary by entry.

Let’s Make The Most of this Beautiful Day (Since We’re Together We Might As Well) by broken_hands & jpnadia

Neighbors AU, featuring both Griddlehark and Camcor, in just about every combination you can imagine. Known as the 4GFs AU. Rated E. Complete.

so quite a new thing by liveonthesun

One of my all-time favorites. Cottagecore ft. smut and softness and I've read it so many times, y'all don't even know, it's so good and gives me such warm fuzzies. Rated E. Complete.

i don’t know if i could ever go on without by liveonthesun

Post-pool scene, wonderfully in-character, kissin' and more. Rated E. Complete.

I’ll hold in these hands all that remains by corvidlesbian

Set nebulously post-canon, snuggly and sexy. Rated E. Complete.

On the Riverbank by Elldritch

Body-sharing, plot, smut, all by Elldritch. Rated E. Complete.

The Process of Elimination by zoicite

Her Divine Highness AU, Bachelorette style, ft. fake relationship. Rated E. In progress.

The River Flows by OwlChief6

Time travel is gonna fix everybody's problems. Rated M. In progress.

The Tournament by Son of Jade

Who doesn't love a medieval AU? This is a medieval AU. Rated M. In progress.

What Good Permitting Some Prophet of Doom by jpnadia

A burlesque AU ft. hate-fucking. Obviously it turns into love-fucking (spoilers), but you knew that was coming. Rated E. Complete.

Beheld and Beloved by Moonblastbitch

*pounds table* PRIDE AND PREJUDICE AU PRIDE AND PREJUDICE AU PRIDE AND PREJUDICE AU. Rated E. In progress.

Dead Reckoning by SecretEvening

Canon continuation that could EASILY be actual canon. Everything here is spot-on in tone and content, and if things went like this I wouldn't be mad. Rated E. Complete.

Sky Full of Song by lemonpretzel

College AU ft. music major Harrow, fake dating, and a secret society with a sketchy past. Rated M. Complete.

The Furnace of You by Cypseloides

Canon continuation ft. Camilla Hect babysitting these fucking useless lesbians. Rated M. Complete.

you live in the dark, love, i cannot pretend by saltwaterconfessions

Each chapter is a different AU floating around in Harrow's rotten little mind. Rated M. In progress.

Inversion by BonesforTime

My latest obsession. This fic made me CRAZY, I can't stress enough all the things it made me feel. I'm legit going to have a hard time remembering that this isn't canon, when reading Nona and Alecto. Devastating and sexy. Rated E. Complete.

#alecto the ninth #nona the ninth #harrow the ninth #locked tomb series #harrowhark nonagesimus #gideon nav #griddlehark #griddlehark fics #fic recs #gideon the ninth

[midoriyas-wifey]

All I want is some size kink headcanons with kirishima PLEASE HSHSHSH (I prefer fem)

Ok so this kinda turned into a horneé post about kirishima but it definitely has size kink overtones bc you can’t have kiri without a size kink you just can’t 🤷‍♀️ bone app the teeth @shorkbrian come get y’all juice

This man is built for size kink, everyone in the bnha fandom knows this, it’s canon at this point. Usually people headcanon him as being 6ft something, but not me. I’m built different and so is he. He is Fatgum height, and nearly as broad across with muscles. You heard me. He’s a behemoth of a man. 7’10 or bust babey!! I mean All Might is 7’2 so it’s not implausible in this world that he could get that tall.

The God of Himbos ™ there’s literally no one nicer on this planet, which helps make up for his near-cruel dick game. You’d better say a prayer to whatever god you believe in before he drills up into those guts. And he’s so nice the whole time too (usually).

Has thighs thicker around than your entire body. He’s like a tiger in that his legs are so strong that even if he got killed he could die standing up. He’s a beast. Loves it when you straddle his thigh and grind on him, begging for attention. And when his baby girl begs so sweetly, how can he refuse?

His biceps alone are bigger around than your head, his arms are so massive but are so gentle and careful with you. His hands are huge and rough as well, and he loves to cup your face (really your whole head with the size of his hands) and pepper it with smooches and sharp toothed smiles. 

He loves all of you, but your ass really does him in. And he loves thighs too; but especially your ass. His hands are on those cakes 24/7 in some manner or another. If he could just keep a cheek in hand the whole day to squeeze on he’d die a happy man. Pinching, squeezing, smacking, spanking, biting, eating it. If it involves your ass then you’d best believe he’s into it.

He’s not even a tiny bit discreet about it, will stare and watch that thing wobble in your (and his) favorite sundress. 

And if you can throw it back? Make it wiggle a lil for him? My mans is on one knee already. 

You really are too cute for him to handle. He’s all hard edges, his figure large and intimidating. You just look so sweet and soft while pressed up on his chest, tiny hands grasping at whatever you can, moans and hiccups and girlish ‘ah ah ahs’ pouring out of your mouth while he pummels your juicy pussy. Too cute.

Loves to praise because he knows it makes you clench down and gush around him, which honestly he didn’t even know your pussy could get any tighter than it already was, but now you got him stuck inside your heavenly cunny and he’s not one to pass up an opportunity. 

He’s up in your ear like, “Goddam baby girl, this pussy feels so fucking good around my dick. Whose is it? Huh? Who does this sweet little pussy belong to?” all while pounding you out, never breaking pace.

Near folds you in half when he gets down to business, you have to remind him to not squish you too much.

He might sort of have a thing for squishing you a lil 👀

Maybe more than a lil 

He loves the noises his dick can draw from your sopping pussy and drooling mouth. Your tongue hangs out and he has you panting like a bitch in heat no matter what position.

The sloppier the better, he wants all the naughty noises you and your body can make for him. 

One time he called you ‘Commander in Queef’ and you wouldn’t let him touch you for 3 days after that 💀

He wants to live a life with no regrets and that includes stuffing you silly every chance he gets. Every. Single. Chance. Doesn’t matter what AU he’s written in Kirishima lives and dies for your sweet pussy, it was made for him he just knows it. 

Nothing has ever fit him better than his precious pebble’s pussy, even when you whine it’s too much he knows you can take it; he just has to do a bit of prep work. 

He’s always too much in the beginning, no matter how much prep work goes in, there’s always that overwhelming stretch, that sense of total fullness that follows the whole way through. You learn to love it, and now you know that no other dick could possibly fill you up like his does.

You love his bigness, and even if you’re not petite, even if you’re big, up against him? Leedle girl. Leedle girl he likes to pick up and bounce on his dick til he creams inside your sensitive lil cunny and adds to the tummy bulge already present from his dick.

Speaking of which it’s legit like forearm sized idc idc. The first time he whipped it out you sucked your lips into your mouth in surprise because how the fuck were you gonna take that?? It’s so heavy that even when he’s fully hard it dips down below its own weight. It's much tanner than the rest of him, but ends in an angry reddish-purple head that’s oozing with thick precum. He’s got one thick vein that runs the length of it on the left, and then a smaller one running on the underside.

Suck on those veins and right underneath the head of his dick and Lord have mercy cuz he’s about to bust. 

His cum is thick as hell and it comes out in buckets. He prefers to cum inside you because it satisfies his breeding kink and he loves to see his cum leak in thick rivers out of your destroyed little cunny while he tries to scoop and push the thick cream back inside.

He also likes cumming on your face but rarely gets to do that since it tends to get in your hair and fuck tryna get all that out.

His balls are huge and heavy, like each one are the size of a peach. They’re straight up wrecking balls. And they’re sooooo sensitive no matter how much experience he gets under his belt. He can’t keep his cool. 

Like you could be sucking his dick for hours but the moment when you reach to cup his balls and play with them he’s putty.

Suck. On. Them. This man will go apeshit, rutting his hips up and moaning for more, just please keep playin’ with ‘em, pebble.

He wants to smother your face with them while he fucks your throat, or just smother you with them in general. He’s just a nasty dude that loves rubbing himself all over you, and seeing his huge dick plop down on your surprised face while he has you suck on his balls makes him cum HARD.

So yeah he’s just a big dude that you can use as a horny jungle gym, and all he asks in return is you let him destroy that tight little pussy over and over again.

#bnha headcanons #bnha smut #bnha imagines #kirishima smut #kirishima x reader #this was delicious to write

[angelinasway]

Regaining Hope Chapter Seven

Pairing: Clark Kent/Buffy Summers Warnings/Triggers:Torture, Violence, Mention's of Major Character Death, Bad Language, Sexual Tension, Eventual Smut, Mentions of Sexual Assault Summary: Takes place during Man of Steel. When Buffy discovers the U.S Military trying to keep quiet about an object buried in a twenty thousand year old glacier, she immediately thinks the worst. However, when a surprise visit to the Canadian Arctic puts her in the path of a mysterious stranger her whole world is changed forever.

Previous Chapters: [Chapter One] [Chapter Two] [Chapter Three] [Chapter Four] [Chapter Five] [Chapter Six]

[TTH] [AO3] [FFN]

Authors Notes: Thank you all for your amazing and wonderful reviews. I do need to address something though, when it comes to reviews, I honestly don't mind anyone critiquing me when comes to grammar, characterization, or even if its kind of a heavy subject and someone feels like they need to debate me on it. That is absolutely fine, for instance I knew I would get a few blocks and even someone asking about the religious views of this story. I do not mind that. I do however mind, if you think I'm a decent writer, but then proceed to belittle the content of my story. I'm going to try to say this as absolutely nicely as I can...If you don't like the content of this story, if the talk of soulmates, soulbounds, or claiming is not for you, if the romance of this story is not for you, kindly back out of this story now and please just don't leave a review. I will say that anyone who's been in the BTVS fandom long enough already knows what a Claim is pretty much a fanon canon, since its been around our fanfiction community since like 2002 at least. Wesley mentioned Angel and Buffy being soulmates in season one of ATS, so that is actually canon. I say this in the nicest way possible, because sometimes I think reviewers who don't write, do not realize how much a review about content can actually screw with our muse and inspiration and I believe there will be at least a handful of people that do write who will agree with me. That being said, this chapter took as long as it did for me to write because of a bad review, so I'm sorry for the long winded exposition everyone. I know this chapter is a bit choppy and if it wasn't for my beautiful Beta Hipkarma, I'm pretty sure it would have been illegible. This chapter deals with some pretty heavy subjects and I added a warning tag just in case. I do not expect anyone to feel the way Buffy does on this subject, and if you feel the need I will gladly talk to you through pm about it. Thank you guys so much again, and please review, unless you know its an above subject and you hate it. Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter Seven

 The plane arrived right on time as Clark anxiously awaited Buffy’s arrival outside the terminal. He’d felt this way since he awoke this morning and he didn’t know why. It was almost like that feeling you get when you know you’ve forgotten something.

 He’d dreamt of her last night and it was so vivid and real that when he opened his eyes, he expected her to be there. The feeling had washed over him after that, like a sudden cold draft in a stifling room. He’d also been as hard as nails and had to relieve himself twice in the shower. His dream Buffy whispering filthy words into his ear as he imagined pinning her to the shower wall and driving into her hard and fast. It only seemed to make the feeling worse though. There was a pounding, an almost driving force that told him he needed to see her and that coupled with the lust, he couldn’t seem to shake was a dangerous combination that he did not enjoy feeling at all.

 It was so strange, yesterday he’d been fine, more than fine really. He’d walked into his house humming and smiling. His mom had noticed his exuberant mood in an instant and raised her eyebrows in surprise, a curious yet knowing quirk in her lips. She had immediately started bombarding him with questions about his evening and Clark had been unable to deny her even a single detail. Well, there were definitely a few things he left out, but he told her everything from meeting Buffy at the school to him having to sing at Lorne’s. This was a first for both of them, Clark making friends and being able to tell his mom all about it. She listened intently, a happy smile on her lips as if this was something she had always wanted for her son. The ability to just be treated normally by people, even if they knew what he was. The more he spoke about how great Buffy was the more his mom’s knowing smile grew. He told her he promised Buffy that he would pick her up at the airport, and his mom had agreed to let him use the truck as long as he promised to take her to work before he left. She had a full shift at the diner tomorrow, so he was pretty sure he could make it back in time to pick her up and take her home.

 Later that night, after getting off the phone with Buffy so she could go patrol, Clark had spent the evening on the internet looking up several theories and ideas on the concept of soulmates. All in all, it was pretty simple stuff, a soulmate could be a romantic or platonic relationship with a mirroring of the souls. Where, both their values and ideals deemed them a perfect match. He had even gone to a few sites on the mystical aspects of soulmates that seemed to be pretty legit, and they believed that when it came to soulmates not only were the souls similar, but both souls usually challenge each other to perceive themselves and the world differently. In essence, your soulmate could help you transcend into a higher state of consciousness. All of that seemed to match very much with what he had been feeling since the moment he met her. None of that however, explained how he felt now.

 Buffy had been right the other day when she said it wasn’t just the soulmates thing. He was almost positive the out-of-control lust and the uncontrollable desire to be near her had very little to do with the fact that they were soulmates and everything to do with the prophecy. Something wanted them to consummate their relationship, and he was pretty sure that something had a reason. He wondered if he was in danger of meeting the other woman and somehow changing his mind about her. He definitely couldn’t imagine ever doing that though, not when he felt what he felt, not when she had consumed his thoughts so thoroughly since the day they met.

 He felt physically ill at the idea of ever having to fight Buffy as an enemy, Lorne’s words about killing her making him nauseous and dizzy. The demon said it most likely wouldn’t happen now, but God, what if it did? What if he wasn’t capable of fighting off this mystery enemy of the future. He shuddered at the thought, his anxiety level spiking in worry. He had to get himself under control.

 As the passengers began to exit the terminal Clark looked on, his eyes searching for golden hair and green eyes. When he finally spotted her the tension that had been growing in his limbs immediately eased. It happened so fast he almost felt boneless by the sudden release. Her eyes met his and a similar look of relief washed over her face, but there was something else there. She was scared, which just made the tension begin to build again. Clark frowned in confusion, but didn’t deny her as she ran to him wrapping her arms around his waist tightly as she laid her head on his chest.

 “Are you okay?” He asked.

 She shook her head and closed her eyes. “There’s something wrong,” She whispered. “I shouldn’t be feeling this–”

 “I know,” he whispered. “I feel it too.” Clark shuddered, so it wasn’t only him who was feeling it. “I think it’s time we learn more about this prophecy.”

 He felt her nod. “I’ll call Wes once we get to the safe house.”

 ****<S>**<S>****

 The drive there had been mostly quiet. The only real sound was Buffy’s smartphone giving directions to their destination. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from reaching out and entwining their fingers however, and she smiled at him gratefully before closing her eyes and sighing. They finally arrived at what looked to be an unassuming house just outside of town that rested on a few acres of property. Buffy untangled their fingers and reached into her carryon bag that was between them and pulled out a large multicolored crystal.

 “Here,” she said quietly. “Hold this.”

 Clark, frowned but did as she asked. Watching her as she muttered the word, “Agnoscis.” The stone suddenly warming in his palm as he caught the house in front of him shimmer for a moment out of the corner of his eye.

 “Latin?” He guessed.

 Buffy nodded. “It means recognize. It’s so you can get through the wards.” She bit her lip, “We can also bring your mom here, in case you ever need to hide her you’ll have a place to take her that’s pretty impenetrable.”

 Clark nodded gratefully, his eyes studying the sad expression on her face. He reached out and gently brushing the back of his knuckles down her cheek. Her whole body shivered at the contact, a small gasp escaping her lips.

 “Are you…are you okay,” He asked.

 She shook her head, “I think it’s affecting me more than you.”

 Clark was quiet for a moment, and then he shook his head. “It’s not, I think I’m just a lot better at controlling my impulses.”

 Buffy chuckled humorlessly, “Maybe, that’s something you can teach me sometime.” She met his eyes and Clark lost his breath at the want he saw shining there.

 God, she was beautiful like that. Her eyes almost swirling with color and heat. His temperature immediately skyrocketed, his pants becoming tight. He wanted to ask her if there was anything he could do, but didn’t dare for fear of what her answer might be. She had already told him she wasn’t ready, and if he was being honest with himself, neither was he.

 He swallowed, his heart beating in his chest. “Come on,” he whispered, opening his door and stepping out. “Let’s go make that phone call.”

 He walked around her side of the truck as she fumbled with her seatbelt, opening the passenger door for her and holding out his hand. She took it gratefully as she slid out of the passenger’s side, hoisting her bag over her shoulder after her feet hit the pavement. Clark reached in the truck bed and grabbed the only other bag she’d brought with her. He wondered where her weapons bag was, but remembered she’d just went through an airport and realized she probably couldn’t bring them with her.

 As if she was reading his mind, she said. “Willow was here last night; I had her ward the training equipment so that we can use it without destroying it.” She looked at him out of the corner of her eye as they walked up the driveway. Her hand fumbling with her keys as they made their way to the door. “I also had her fill the fridge and bring my weapons bag over.”

 He didn’t say anything as he watched her slide the key in the lock and open the door. He followed her through a spacious living room that was tastefully decorated, through another door and into a modern kitchen. She slid her bag off, dropping it unceremoniously on the floor. She pulled out her phone next, scrolling through her contacts and hitting send before putting it on speaker. She set the phone on the island between them and walked to the fridge, leaning her back against it as she closed her eyes. 

 Clark wanted to go over and comfort her, but something in his gut told him that would be a very bad idea. She was putting distance between them for a reason and he completely respected that. Her sudden change however, worried him and he was beginning to think maybe she really was suffering more than him.

 "Buffy?" A cultured British male voice answered after the first few rings.

 "Yeah, it’s me." She said quietly.

 "Is everything alright?" He asked, his tone worried.

"No, not really." She answered. "I think it’s time you told us about this prophecy."

 "Buffy, I've already explained–"

 “No,” She cut him off. “No Wes, you don’t get to do this. Not now. Something is wrong with me, I feel…” Her face went red, as she looked at Clark, “I feel like I’m on fire, I…” Her eyes moved to her phone and glared, a growl tearing from her throat in frustration. Her teeth clenched as she ground out. “I feel incredibly sexually frustrated, okay? Like a cat in fucking heat.” Her face went scarlet and she avoided looking directly at Clark. “Want to explain?”

 There was a sudden choking sound on the other line, as a coughing fit proceeded it. “Good Lord, it’s happening already?”

 The outrage in Buffy’s eyes, did something to Clark in that moment and he stepped forward his anger simmering under the surface. “What’s happening?” He demanded.

 “Mr. Kent,” Wesley said in surprise, “I didn’t…I didn’t realize you were on the line as well.” Clark heard the British man sigh, “I’m sorry we were finally introduced this way, I had hoped to meet you in person. I’m sure you already know that I am Wesley Wyndam-Pryce and that I am head of the Watchers Council.” There was a pause, before he continued. “I do apologize for not telling you both sooner, but I had hoped we would have a few more days before the bond started to require a need to be fulfilled.”

 “Bond…what?” Buffy’s face scrunched up in confusion.

 “I don’t really understand it myself,” Wesley admitted. “But it’s written that once the Immortal Slayer and, I believe the correct term is Star God meet, a…I think the term is soulbond will start to form and a compulsion to fulfill it will start to take hold. Now, both Willow and I think we’ve found a way to counteract the compulsion, but I didn’t expect it would start to take hold so quickly. I do apologize Buffy; I had planned to have Willow bring me there tomorrow so I could explain.”

 “What’s a soulbond, exactly?” Clark asked, “And how is it any different than being soulmates?”

 “I honestly don’t know, there are very few references to what it is exactly. I imagine that much like soulmates there must be a similarity or mirroring of souls if you will, but unlike soulmates there is a need…a compulsion for a confluence between the souls. As far as I can tell, once that happens it would act very similarly to a claim.”

 Buffy gasped and looked at Clark, her eyes wide and disbelieving. Clark swallowed, “What’s a claim?”

 “It’s a…a type of marriage between demons, vampires in particular.” Buffy shifted uncomfortably and looked down. “It’s barely ever used now because its unbreakable, not even magic can undo it. It’s ancient and powerful and requires total trust and consent between both parties.” She met his eyes then, an apology shining through but Clark didn’t feel like he needed one, in fact he just felt very confused.

 “That doesn’t make any sense, not after what Lorne told me.” Clark said with a frown. “If this bond is as powerful as you say then…” It was his turn to look at Buffy apologetically, “Then even if I met this other person first, wouldn’t the bond take hold when I met Buffy regardless?”

 “I don’t quite understand what you’re referring to.” Wesley said in confusion.

 Clark looked up at Buffy and saw suspicion in her eyes. “Lorne didn’t tell you?”

 “Lorne doesn’t give me the details of readings Mr. Kent; he treats all his clients very much like a therapist treats a patient.” Wesley said, adding. “The only thing he told me was that you were the one the prophecy spoke of and that you were on the right path in regards to your destiny. What exactly did he tell you?”

 Clark shifted uncomfortably, feeling Buffy’s eyes on him but unable to meet hers. “He said I had two very different futures, that Buffy was my soulmate but I have another as well and in this other future this woman dies and something makes me go bad.” He finally got the courage and looked at Buffy, her eyes were wide and burning with hurt and maybe a bit of jealousy. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, thinking he had ruined everything.

 Buffy shook her head and swallowed, “Did he… did he say what would happen if you met her now?”

 Clark nodded, "He said I'm a one-woman man, that it wouldn't matter."

 She seemed to relax a bit at his words, her eyes softening and darting back to her phone as Wesley began speaking, "Then you are very correct Mr. Kent, if you met Buffy in this other future, it should have activated the soulbond whether you had feelings for this other woman or not. A soulmate is not always a love interest after all." He paused for a moment, "There are only two things that could have stopped it. One would be that you don't meet Buffy until this mystery foe had your mind or if you did meet her, she was already claimed."

 Buffy gasped, and looked at Clark guiltily, “I almost asked him to claim me.”

 A potent wave of jealousy and possession swept through him at her words. If she was referring to Angel, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to control himself much longer. Not when the very idea of her being tied like that with someone else made his blood boil.

 "What?" Wesley said, shocked.

 "Spike, Wes. Not Angel." She clarified. "It was...it was right after we found Alicia. I knew it could make us stronger and I... I thought it might give us an advantage against Angelus. I never had the courage to ask him though."

 “And thank every deity in the universe for that!” Wesley said sharply, “I don’t think you quite understand the repercussions that could have had on not just Clark’s future but your own.” There was a long silence, the only sound was heavy breathing before a much calmer Wesley finally said, “That kind of bond Buffy…think about what you did to Angelus and multiply it by a million. I was there that day you came through the portal after Spike died. You were almost feral; your Slayer was in complete control and she wanted to kill Willow for making her immortal. There was a part of her that already thought of Spike as her mate, and she wanted blood from whoever had wronged her. If you had been claimed and Spike died…” They heard him take a shuddering breath, “You would have burnt the world and then marched into Hell without a second thought in search of him. There would have been no stopping you.”

 Clark watched Buffy shiver at Wes’s words, her eyes getting lost and faraway. His possessiveness grew at her words, but a small part of him couldn’t help but be curious as to what happened between the two of them and why she so rarely spoke about him. The book had only said that the vampire had killed two Slayers, and had tried to kill Buffy on numerous occasions. He had been hampered by some form of neurotechnology by the US Government and began working with her reluctantly. Somewhere along the way he had fallen for Buffy and regained his soul, sacrificing himself for the world once, where he was resurrected by a mystical amulet he was wearing when he died. The author of the book believed he’d been brought back by mistake and the amulet was meant to be worn by Angel, but there was also some speculation that Spike may have been the actual bearer of the Shanshu prophecy. The author however, was highly skeptical about this because Spike didn’t do what he did out of heroics, even with a soul he relished in the violence of his nature. The author believed that becoming mortal would feel more like a punishment than a reward for the vampire. It spoke some about his time at Wolfram and Hart, about his part in the fight against Angelus, and how he died saving Buffy a second time.

 “I don’t…I don’t remember any of that.” She said quietly, wrapping her arms around herself. “Even what I did to Angelus, I only remember parts of it. I felt like I was outside my body looking at someone who wasn’t actually me, except I could feel what I was doing.” She shivered, and it took every bit of self-control he had not to go to her, especially when her voice cracked. “When I came to, I-I was covered in blood and…God, Wes there was nothing left but a torso and head. I…” She choked. “I even took his face.”

 When a single tear tracked itself down her cheek, Clark couldn’t take it anymore and he rounded the island and pulled her into his arms, hoping she was too upset to be affected by the embrace, but not really caring if she was, not when he could feel her trembling in his arms. He understood now why she’d been so adamant the other day about her being wrong in the way she killed Angelus and about Slayers not actually being creatures of light but warriors for the light. He could never picture her being capable of such carnage even after hearing it from her own mouth. Then again, he could never picture himself killing her either or anyone else for that matter, not on purpose at least.

 They heard a muffled sniffle over the line, before a choked sounding Wesley finally said, “Oh, Buffy, I never…I never knew it was that bad. We found the warehouse and the blood, so I did realize…but…not to what extent, and then you just disappeared and Willow couldn’t ever get a read on you. It was like you were blocking her somehow. Why didn’t you ever tell me any of this?”

 Clark felt her shake her head, “I was ashamed.” She answered honestly. “Lorne’s the only one who knows everything, even the stuff I can’t remember.”

 “Do you remember anything that happened before you captured Angelus?” Wesley asked cautiously. “I’ve always wondered how you did it, but was always too afraid to ask after the way we…the way we found you.”

 Buffy sighed against Clark’s chest, her shivering increasing. “I think I let myself be caught,” she said quietly. “The only thing I really remember is being bound magically by Amy and then Warren tearing open my shirt.” Clark stiffened at her words, his whole body going rigid. She squeezed her eyes shut, her grip on him tightening. “Angelus threw him out of the way, and said everyone would have a turn, but he got to have me first.” Clark’s anger flared at her words, his fist tightening behind her back, he had to squeeze his eyes shut at the sudden heat he felt building. “I-I don’t know how, but somehow I was able to break through the magic that was binding me. Everything’s kind of a blur after that, but I think…” She frowned, her forehead crinkling in confusion. “I think none of the spells were working on me. I think…I think I killed everyone.”

 Clark found himself sighing in relief at her words. God, just the image of someone trying to do that to her made him see red. Literally, in fact. He really hoped that something like that has never happened before, because he could already tell he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from tearing whomever did it to shreds. As horrendous of a way she killed Angelus, he couldn’t judge her for how she did it, not after hearing that. God, if she hadn’t been able to break the magic… He felt himself shudder.  

 Wesley was quiet for a long time, “I’ve always known that Willow brought you back stronger, but being able to break a binding spell with sheer force of will is extraordinary Buffy. We should have started testing this advantage years ago.”

 “I try not to think about that day, Wes.” She huffed. “I don’t think the magic going wonky even occurred to me until this moment.” She was quiet for a few moments, before she finally said, "So what happens if I bond with Clark and I lose him too?"

 Wesley sighed, "Well, I'm hoping since it’s your souls that are bonding and not your Slayer, that it will make quite a difference."

 "You're hoping? That’s really not a guarantee, Wes." She said in annoyance, stepping out of Clark's embrace and leaning on the island. "And what’s to stop my Slayer from trying to initiate a claim? What if this soulbond thing isn't good enough for her? Lorne already said she's been looking for her mate since I was called. He said that's why I was so drawn to both Spike and Angel." She shook her head, "Well, according to this prophecy he's my mate, right? Or the closest she'll ever get to one. So, what's to stop her from doing what she's been wanting to do for years? I mean I looked up claiming in high school, Wes. As soon as I read the word, I was fascinated."

 Clark stepped around the table so he could look at her. She seemed worried and deep in thought before her eyes met his and they softened immediately, a small smile forming on her lips as she studied him.

 Then they heard Wesley sigh, "I honestly don't know. We've still not even translated the whole thing and we've been working on it for over a year."

 Clark watched Buffy frown in confusion. "Is there a reason you haven't gotten Dawn in on this?"

 "I'll give you three guesses as to why." He said sarcastically.

 Buffy snorted, saying mockingly, "Aww Wes, you're not afraid of my baby sister, are you?"

 There was silence on the other end of the line and then a grumbled, "I would rather face all the demons in hell than deal with Dawn on a tirade about you."

 She chuckled and shook her head. "Well tough, because I want her in on this."

.

"But Buffy–” He started to whine.

 “No Wes,” she said cutting him off.  “I love both you and Willow, you know that. But, if there’s anyone in this world who will have our best interests at heart and give it to us straight, it’s her. I want her in on this.”

 “Fine,” He groaned.

 Then a smile broke across her lips and an evil look of mischief Clark was slowly becoming familiar with sparked in her eyes. “Plus, she already knows I spent time with Clark the other day and she knows he’s something other.”

 “How on Earth did she find out about that?” Wesley said in surprise.

 Clark smirked as Buffy’s smile grew. “I may have pissed Faith off by waking her and Gunn up with a cold shower. She ratted us out.”

 There was silence on the other line, but she swore she could hear him shaking his head. “Do I even want to know?”

 “Probably not.” She said chuckling and then sighed. “I’m feeling a little better now, I mean as far as the compulsion stuff goes.”

 “Hmm,” Wesley hummed. “Perhaps it gets worse when you’re apart. I knew that you would feel a need to be around each other, but perhaps being away from one another has an even greater affect than I imagined. How about you Mr. Kent, how do you feel?”

 Clark blinked in surprise. Now that Buffy mentioned it, he was feeling less uncomfortable than he had all morning. “Better, actually. It’s still there, but not as potent.”

 “Then perhaps the theory is a sound one,” Wesley said. “However, to be on the safe side I’ll have Willow drop off the pendants she’s making this evening. They should be able to subdue most of the compulsion until you both feel ready to move forward with the bond. I would also recommend spending as little time apart as possible. I believe that the pendants are powerful enough to ward off the worst of it, however if this bond is as powerful as I think it is you very well might override the magics if the compulsion becomes too powerful.” He sighed, “I suggest staying there with Buffy for the time being Mr. Kent.”

 Clark shook his head “That not going to work Mr. Wyndam-Pryce. I need to help out on the farm. While I was away my mom got behind on the payments and if we don’t bring in a decent crop this year my mom could lose it.” He looked at Buffy nervously. “You could stay with us though; we have a guest bedroom.”

 Buffy nodded, “Yeah, yeah, that might be a good idea. I can help you with anything you need, and we can start your training in the afternoons.”

 Wesley cleared his throat, getting both their attention. “I think you’re forgetting the contract, Buffy. He may very well not need to worry about that any longer.”

 Buffy’s eyes widened, “Oh, yeah. I almost forgot. I’ll be right back.”

 Clark watched her run out of the room as Wesley said, “Are you still there Mr. Kent?”

 Clark looked at the phone, “Yes.”

 “Good, I thought I’d go over the numbers for you and see if they’re satisfactory.” Wesley said. “I had thought of paying you as we would a hired mercenary or demon hunter, however since your role in the future will be pivotal to keeping this world intact, I decided you deserved what we would pay any Slayer, it’s only fair after all.”

 “What aren’t you telling us about this prophecy?” Clark said, Wesley’s words telling him the man knew more than was saying.

 He heard the man sigh, “I would prefer not to say at this moment. I already know how Buffy will feel about it, and I believe you both have enough on your plate with the bonding. I’ll tell you both, but she’s not ready to hear it yet.”

 Clark frowned, “I don’t think you give her enough credit.”

 “You may be correct,” Wesley conceded, “But I know she will not be happy about this, even if it’s a good thing. I, at the very least need to prepare myself for Dawn finding out, and she may very well tell Buffy even if I ask her not too. I do not believe either of you have long to wait.”

 “Alright,” Clark said, “I’m going to hold you to that though.”

 “Now,” Wesley said, just as Buffy walked back in the room. “How does two hundred-thousand a year sound?

 Clark blinked in surprise, the blood rushing to his head. He couldn’t have possibly heard that right, could he? “I’m sorry did you…did you just say two hundred-thousand?”

 “Clark are you okay?” Buffy asked, running to his side. “You look a little pale.”

 He shook his head, “It’s…that’s too much.”

 “No,” Buffy disagreed, shaking her head. “It really isn’t. Entering this world Clark… you’ll be putting not only your home but your mom at risk and no amount of money will ever make up for that.” She bit her lip and nodded, “Trust me on this, most demons aren’t stupid enough to mess with the good guy’s families, but the real big-bads, the uber-powerful demons, who’s only goal is destruction and world domination? Those demons won’t care, they’ll do everything in their power to try and hurt you, even if that means trying to break you.” She sighed, “It’s why I want your mom to have access to this place too. It will make me feel better knowing you can get her to safety if you needed to.”

 Clark sighed, reaching out and sliding the small stack of paper out of her hand. “And what happens if I sign these and change my mind?”

 Wesley spoke up, “You are not beholden to anything Mr. Kent, if you sign those and decide that helping the Watchers Council is not in your best interest, it would simply be like you quitting a job. You wouldn’t be paid anymore of course, but you would not be obligated to continue helping us either. However, with the bond beginning to form I’m not sure how you would be able to distance yourself from the Council or Buffy, but if you made that decision no one would stand in your way.”

 Clark pulled out a chair and sat down, his eyes quickly reading it through. It was pretty standard stuff, nothing in it that had some sort of hidden agenda. He flipped the page and read through the rest before getting to the signature line.

 “Do you have a pen?” He asked, looking at Buffy.

 She went to a small drawer and pulled it open, grabbing one from inside and handing it over. Clark took the pen signing his name on the dotted line. “Okay Mr. Wyndam-Pryce, I signed it.”

 “Very good.” Wesley said, “Now, I don’t suppose you’re up for giving him a tour of the underground facilities?”

 “Of course.” Buffy said.

 “Very well,” he said. “I’ll call you before Willow leaves, in the meantime try and keep your wits about you.”

 The line disconnected and Clark raised his eyebrows in curiosity. “Underground facility?”

 ****<S>**<S>****

Buffy slid open the hidden panel in the wall of the master bedroom. She entered a number into the keypad and then looked up into a camera where it scanned her face, and slid her keycard into the slot. 

 The computer’s AI came online and a female voice said, "Good afternoon Miss Summers, what can I do for you this afternoon?"

 "I need to give a new recruit security clearance."

 "Name?" The computer asked, as Buffy removed her keycard and slid in the blank one Willow had left for them.

 Buffy nodded at Clark and stepped away from the panel so he could stand in front of it.

 "Clark Joseph Kent," he answered, stepping into the space Buffy had just vacated.

 "Facial recognition." The computer said, and Buffy pointed up to the camera, indicating he needed to look into it. 

 Once that was done the computer said, "Four-digit pin."

 Buffy looked at Clark and nodded, "Now choose four numbers you'll remember easily."

 She watched as he thought about it a second before he put in his code. Once that was finished the computer said, "Thank you Mr. Kent, you now have full access to the Watcher Archives as well as all facilities. Ms. Summers would you like access into the rest of the building?"

 "Yes," Buffy answered before the hidden wall shifted, sliding away and revealing the steel doors of an elevator that would take them down into the heart of the house. The doors slid open and Buffy removed the new keycard handing it to Clark as they stepped into the elevator, Buffy pressing the simple down-arrow button.

 “We had these built in all the safehouses after what happened with Angelus.” Buffy said as way of explanation. “Or I should say, Wes and Willow did. I wasn’t really around for that.”

 It didn’t take long for the elevator to reach its destination and the doors slid open. She could feel Clark’s eyes on her as she stepped out of the elevator and into the large steel control room. There were several monitors on the walls with keyboards on a stainless steel counter top that bolted into the walls along half the room.

 “This is the control room.” Buffy said, “For safety reasons, if we’re ever in any code-red type situation, this room is always occupied in case someone manages to get past the outer wards. We can house up to thirty bodies here at a time and since most of us are a little something-other, we can at least hold off whoever’s broken in to give the rest of us a fighting chance to escape by sounding the alarm.”

 She knew she was rambling, but she couldn’t look at him right then. It was just occurring to her all that she admitted to Wesley and what she’d said in front of Clark. He was going to ask about Spike, she could almost feel it. Of all the things Wesley could have brought up, it had to be claiming. She felt Clark move closer, and wasn’t surprised when she felt him place his hand on her shoulder as she rambled on about where the exits were located.

 “Buffy?” He whispered.

 She sighed and looked down, “Yeah?”

 “Why…why don’t you ever talk about him?” Clark asked.

 Her shoulders slumped at his words, but she still couldn’t bring herself to turn around and look at him. “It’s…it’s complicated.”

 “Well then, I think you should try to uncomplicate it for me, because this thing sounds pretty permanent between us and I need to know if I’m going to be living in another man’s shadow.” He said honestly.

 She spun around, her eyes meeting his in surprise. “God, no. It’s not like that at all. We were…” She sighed. “Maybe we should go into another room that’s more comfortable. This is a long story.”

 Clark nodded at her and she turned, leading him through the heavy metal door to their left and down a hallway the AI illuminating the rooms as it monitored their approach. Buffy led him into a large rec room, a massive tv mounted to one wall with a standard sized couch in front. There was a card table in a corner and a pool table in another. A few pinball machines lined one wall of the room and a dartboard hung near a foosball table. She led him over to the couch, gesturing for him to sit before she wrapped her arms around herself protectively. She waited for him to sit down first, and sat at the other end biting her lip in thought, staring straight ahead into the black void of the blank tv screen, not sure exactly where to start. She figured the beginning was probably best, so she started there.

 “When I met Spike,” she said slowly. “He was just about as evil as they come, or at least that’s what my sixteen-year-old-self thought. Though, I hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting Angelus yet, so I was a bit naive in that department. Anyway, his girlfriend-slash-sire had been weakened in Prague at some point and he came to Sunnydale to try and restore her and bag himself another Slayer.” She shrugged, “So, we pretty much started out as mortal enemies. We fought each other a lot that first half of the year, and he was a hell of a fighter. He almost got me on that first one, but incredibly enough my mom was the one who saved the day.” Buffy smiled in amusement. “Clocked him on the back of the head with an axe.”

 Clark snorted in amusement. “Sounds like something my mom would do.”

 Buffy smiled, “Yeah my mom could be pretty tough.” She shrugged, “Anyway, I ended up putting him in a wheelchair after dropping an organ on him during a spell that actually did end up restoring Drucilla. On my birthday I found out they were both still alive and Dru was reassembling an ancient demon called the Judge who couldn’t be killed by any man-made weapon. Me and Angel tried to stop it from happening, but we were both too late. That night I made the colossal decision of losing my virginity to Angel.” She looked at him out of the corner of her eye and sighed, “And just like that his soul was gone. Maybe that’s why I clung on to the notion that we were somehow destined for so long. I mean, the breaking of Angel’s curse literally states that only a moment of perfect happiness could release the soul. I guess I thought that if our love was enough to drive his soul away, it must be special.” She rolled her eyes at herself. “Honestly, knowing Angel it had more to do with him somehow feeling redeemed in me or it very well could have been that he hadn’t dipped his wick in over a hundred years. Whatever the cause, so began several horrible months of mental torment from a demon wearing my lover’s face.”

 “And Spike?” Clark asked.

 Buffy sighed, “Spike went through his own torment at the hands of Angelus and Drusilla. Spike really did love her, but her love compared to his was fleeting at best. He told me once how they would mock him for being wheelchair bound and Angelus would…well, he would fuck Dru right in front of Spike because he knew how much it hurt him. I think that’s when whatever destiny Spike had must have started. He came to me and made a truce in the hopes of getting Angelus away from Dru and also according to him, he actually liked the world and didn’t want to see it destroyed like they were planning.” She sighed again, “Anyway, that’s probably the first instance where I started to see Spike in a somewhat different light. Less of a danger and more of a nuisance if that makes sense.”

 “Yeah,” Clark nodded. “I guess I could see that.”

 “Okay, so skip ahead a few years, when I’m in my first year of college. I’ve seen Spike once in that time when he kidnapped Willow and Xander, trying to make Willow preform a love spell to get Dru back. Apparently, our little truce didn’t sit well with her and she dumped him.” Buffy shrugged, “We had one more real fight where we were actually trying to kill each other that year, and then a few months later the Initiative planted the chip in his head and then once again he came to us for asylum.” A small smile tugged at her lips, “We fought like cats and dogs that whole year. I think our bickering is partly what drove Giles to drinking so much. Then sometime during the next year when Dawn arrived and my mom got sick, he realized he was in love with me.” Buffy sighed. “It wasn’t a healthy love though, not even a little bit. He was obsessed with me. He had a weird shrine to me and he had, the super nerd Warren make a lifelike robot of me for reasons I’m sure you can guess.”

 Clark grimaced before saying, “Is that the same Warren that–”

 “The one and the same.” She interrupted. “I’ve dealt with some pretty gross demons before, but as far as Warren goes, he’s probably the worst human I’ve ever had to deal with.” Buffy sighed, “Anyway, as weird as Spike’s obsession with me was, he did some things that year that really surprised me. Things that normal vampires wouldn’t do, though I still to this day haven’t decided if Spike was the unique one or if Angelus was, because I know for a fact Spike isn’t the first vampire to keep a portion of his humanity after being turned.” She shook her head getting back on topic, “Anyway, he protected my sister’s secret when Glory tortured him for information and he promised to protect Dawn until the end of the world. When I came back the next year, I didn’t really acknowledge it at the time, but he was still there. Still looking out for my baby sister. It’s strange how you don’t see those things when they happen, but Spike loved Dawn like a little sister and he loved my mom too. For some reason he was drawn to us Summers women.” She sighed and looked at Clark. “I already told you when I came back, I went to a dark place.”

 Clark nodded, his eyes studying her face. “You have.”

 “I went to that dark place with Spike, I didn’t… when I came back, I was numb and I didn’t know it at the time, but my Slayer had gotten stronger. Part of me hated my friends, I was furious with them for bringing me back and expecting me to be happy about it.” She swallowed, “Spike became my confidant at first, he became my quiet solace. I could sit with him and just be… he didn’t…he didn’t expect me to just be okay like everyone else. I was the one who made the first move…we were under a spell at the time but that didn’t stop me from making a second move after it was broken. One night not long after our second make out session, after my Watcher decided I needed to learn to do things on my own and left, we got into an argument about the kiss and I hit him,” she frowned bitterly, rolling her eyes. “He retaliated and must have realized his chip didn’t fire. The next day, well he started a real fight with me. The first one we had since…well since our brawl before the chip.” Buffy could feel her cheeks heat up at the memory, “It was the first time I felt alive since my resurrection and one thing led to another and we…well we weren’t fighting anymore. At least not with fists. It was the first time I didn’t have to hold back and it was exhilarating.” She looked at her hands, “And the next day I told him how disgusting we were, and I was cruel and awful to him.” She shook her head. “I’m not saying that he didn’t give as good as he got, but I was always the one saying the cruel stuff first. I was awful to him Clark; I beat him once and left him for the sunrise. He was trying to help me…well, I thought I accidentally killed someone.” She pursed her lips, even the memory of Warren now days could send her into a rage. “I hadn’t, Warren once again was trying to fuck with my life, but both of us thought I did. He didn’t understand why I had to turn myself in, how much even thought of hurting someone innocent was killing me. I…I just snapped. I honestly don’t know how he managed to make it to safety on time.”

 She didn’t realize she was crying until she felt Clark’s arms come around her. “He still had bruises a week later and vampires, they heal fast.” She sniffled. “Shortly after that my ex-Riley came to town and somewhat reminded me why being with a soulless vampire was a bad thing. I realized that what we were doing…we had to stop. I was using him and it wasn’t fair to either of us, so I broke things off.” Buffy shook her head, “It was hard, because I really did still want him, but I resisted. Some things happened, over the next month or two, my friends ended up finding out about us and one night, he showed up at my house. I was pretty banged up from a fight earlier that evening and he tried to…I’m not even sure he knew what he was doing…but he tried to rape me.” Buffy said quietly, she felt Clark’s arms stiffen around her, this was the judgment she’d been waiting for. “I kicked him off, and he was shocked at himself and then I said, ask me again how I could ever love you?”

 She looked at Clark then, and she could see the anger swirling in his blue eyes. “That’s why Spike got his soul. He thought it was the only way he could be sure never to hurt me again. He wanted to be the man I deserved. He did it for selfish reasons of course, but the outcome of those reasons? It was worth it in the end, because he’s the reason we don’t still have a Hellmouth in Sunnydale California.”

 Clark shook his head, “I don’t…how can you have feelings for someone after they…even if he didn’t, how could you have not wanted to kill him?”

 Buffy shook her head. “Because love isn’t rational, because it can be beautiful or a nightmare, and unfortunately feelings can’t just be flipped on and off. I think if he hadn’t gotten his soul, I would have felt differently, and maybe I eventually would have stopped caring about him. You have to understand though…what he did, it’s never been done before. He fought against his nature and became something incredible for it. I think I would be kinda a hypocrite if I could forgive and still love Angel for what he did to me without a soul, but couldn’t forgive and still have feelings for Spike.”

 “Your ability to forgive, Buffy…I think you might have me beat in that department.” Clark said.

 She shook her head, “I don’t necessarily think that’s true. I don’t think I can ever truly forgive Willow for bringing me back, and you now know what I did to Angelus.” She sighed. “I really do think it depends on the transgression. Willow tore me out of Heaven, she made me immortal, denying me the peace and reward that all Slayers crave. Angelus went after people I love and he tormented and killed my sister Slayers, all of which were young girls, newly called. I know what Wes said, and part of its true, but Spike was just the catalyst, he was not necessarily the cause. It was my hate, my emotions guiding my Slayer, and it wasn’t the first time that part of me wanted to kill Willow nor was it only her that wanted to destroy Angelus for what he had done.”

  “And the claim?” Clark asked.

 Buffy sighed, “It was something that was swirling around my head for a while, and at first it was absolutely a hundred percent my Slayer. But by the time I started seriously considering it, that was definitely all me.”

 Clark looked away, “You wanted to bind yourself to him for eternity.”

 She was silent at his words; she knew what he was thinking and he was wrong. She remembered very clearly why she wanted to do it. “It…I really did want to win, Clark. I know you’re thinking I must have been head over heels in love, but… I loved Spike, I did and I still do, but not…It was the type of love you hold for your best friend, for the person who gets you more than anyone else. I’m not saying it wasn’t romantic in nature either, but it was a love that formed over time. There was no cupid moment. I knew we were compatible sexually; I knew he would never leave me, and I knew it would make us stronger. Claims, they don’t even require love to be fulfilled, just a mutual respect for one another and I knew we could make it work.”

 Clark sighed, leaning his head against the back of the couch. “Why didn’t you then?”

 “Fear,” Buffy said simply. “Fear of the unknown, fear that he would say no, and fear that he would say yes.”

 She watched Clark swallow. “And you want to do the same to me?”

 Buffy blushed. “I-I don’t know. Yes, I think so…” She was silent for a moment. Did she want to claim Clark? Her Slayer seemed to think so, but was that the prophecy or an actual want. She certainly didn’t want to lead him on, so she said “But I think it’s something that could happen in the heat of the moment.” She could literally feel her face heating up even more. “Just, if…if I ever bite you when we…and say ‘Mine’, don’t answer unless you’re willing to do the same.”

 “I’m assuming when you say bite, you mean breaking skin.” He said raising an eyebrow.

 “I do.” She admitted. “That’s basically what a claim is, it’s a symbolic ritual of sharing one’s life force, blood, saliva, semen. The mixing of your essence with another to create two halves of a whole.”

 A slow amused smile broke across his lips. “That actually sounds kind of beautiful, if not a little messy.”

 Buffy snorted, her own amusement growing at his analogy. “Anything else you want to know, before we continue our tour?”

 His eyes slowly gave her a once over, before he shook his head. “No, I think that was more than enough for today.” He looked down, “It’s hard for me to picture you like that, being cruel I mean. Not when…not when you’ve been so nice to me. I don’t think I’ll ever truly understand anything you told me about him and you, and…and if I’m being honest, I can’t help feeling…” He looked at her seriously, his mouth set in a firm line. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t come back from the dead again, because I can’t promise I will be very nice.”

 She found herself giggling at the visual. Dear God, that would be funny, especially with how quiet and reserved Clark was. Spike would drive him up the wall. “Oh, trust me neither will he, even with the soul he had the ability to drive just about anyone mad with rage.”

 “Well, then it’s probably a good thing he’s not around anymore. I don’t think I’d like to be responsible for killing someone you cared about.” Clark said seriously.

 Buffy rolled her eyes; he might be from another planet but he was definitely a hundred percent male. “Yes, Clark, lucky for you, you only have one of my ex’s left to contend with and he’s married.” She pushed herself away from him, grabbing his hand as she did and pulling him to his feet as she stood. “Now, come on, I’ll show you the training room.”

#man of steel #henry cavill #mos #man of steel fanfiction #man of steel crossover #man of steel edit #superman #buffy summers #superman fanfiction #superman crossover #superman fanedit #buffy #buffy fanfiction #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #Buffy Fandom #clark kent #buffy x clark #buffy summers x clark kent #buffy x superman #btvs #btvs crossover #btvs fanfiction #btvsedit #Sarah Michelle Gellar #this is totally self indulgent #angst

[kiseiakhun]

Roy’s costumes, ranked from bad to even worse

Not ‘good’, because none of them are good. There’s, like, maybe two good ones. I still say Dick is the good influence to his fashion disaster ways.

We get it, Roy, your theme is arrows. Also I just noticed the two arrows on his chest pointing up to his nipples. There’s also one on his throat pointing down, one on his crop top pointing up, and one on his crotch, also pointing up. Are you trying to direct bad guys on where to hit you, Roy? At least it’s not pointing at his crotch. I feel like this is his most thotty costume, and thus, it’s the one that best encompasses his slutty, slutty personality.

This would be at the top, except this was what he wore during Rise of Arsenal and everything about that comic makes me angry. Then again, this is also what he wore during Convergence, which was cute. Still. The badass potential of this outfit is forever ruined, which is a shame because it’s actually pretty nice.

Navajo themes! This one is also one of his least regrettable fashion choices, except, uh... half the time when artists colour it in, they seem to colour the yellow cut-outs the same tone as his flesh? Like, I legit thought, when I first saw this outfit, that Roy had Sexy Superhero Cutouts. I’m still sort of disappointed that he didn’t, tbh. Give him the boob window he deserves ):

Okay, so his Red Arrow outfit would also be higher up, except 1. negative points for being unoriginal, it’s literally a colour-swapped version of Ollie’s outfit, and 2. WHY THE FUCK DOES HE HAVE SUCH AN ALARMINGLY LARGE CROTCH BULGE. Why does EVERYONE draw him with such a big pants snake!! And ONLY in this outfit. SPECIFICALLY in this outfit. Are the pants here just tighter than his other costumes? Can we take this as canon evidence that Roy has a big dick? I mean, he’s probably wearing a jock, yeah, but even jocks need to be sized correctly for the peen, right? Otherwise it’s just... sort of. Awkwardly rattling around in there. Then again, Roy does seem like the type of fuckboy who’d wear a bigger cup to lie about his dick size...

This looks like one of those t-shirts with an almost-naked torso wearing a bikini. That’s exactly what this reminds me of. Just wear a spaghetti strap tank and get it over with, Roy. Also, his crotch arrow is pointing down this time. Hm. Very subtle.

Heavy. Cumbersome. Eye-searingly bright. I think he stopped wearing this because he went CLANK CLANK CLANK CLANK CLANK everywhere he stepped, because of the twenty pounds of body armour, as Dick pointed out. Thank God for Dick. I’m so glad this didn’t evolve into one of his signature looks.

What the fuck, Roy?

The Exceptions:

Classic! Peppy! Maybe it’s not Cool, but it’s fun! No awkward cut-outs. No crotch arrows. Just a boy, and his bow, and his cuttingly deep abandonment issues fighting crime as a superhero.

The only good outfit he’s ever worn. 100000/10. Ignoring whatever the fuck is going on with his face in this panel, everything about it is perfect <333333333

#roy harper #I finally did it #I ranked his outfits #yes this is why I was screaming about the red arrow crotch bulge again #cursed posts #blabs #t

[cyndalyssa]

Disney Marathon Commentary: The Silver Age

A compilation of various jokes and observations during our marathon of the entire Disney Animated Canon over the past year. No movie was safe from being poked fun at, and while I couldn’t get all the jokes, I did gather the ones that stuck out by the time each movie finished. This is all in good fun, and we like most of the movies.

Participants were me (A2), @knighta3​ (A3), and @angelfishcake​ (A4). Most of the time, I’m being vague about who said what, though I get specific in a couple cases. 

Today, we come back to the full-length animated features, covering the rest of the movies that were made during the rest of Walt Disney’s life. We got a bunch of classics here, and also a bunch of snark. 

Cinderella

~ Cinderella is me in the morning when my alarm goes off.

~ We love the local aspiring grandfather, The King.

~ *discussion about the Fairy Godmother’s relation to the Blue Fairy*

~ *theorizing that the rest of the Kingdom doesn’t like the Tremaines*

~ “It’s the Headless Horsemen!” “No, they have heads.”

~ Everyone makes fun of the Prince for trying to find her based on shoe size, but it wasn’t his idea.

~ “My old enemy…

 STAIRS.”

~ Conspiracy theory, Anastasia is the Russian princess of the same name and was kidnapped as a child by Lady Tremaine

Alice in Wonderland

~ This jumped into the um, “plot”, rather quickly. 

~ Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum are squeaky toys. 

~ The White Rabbit is the only sane citizen of Wonderland. 

~ She’s not a freakin’ weed you piece of crap flowers!

~ Oh, look, the caterpillar was actually helpful. 

~ The “painting the roses red” scene is the only one with some line of logic.

~ Yo,

 Is that José ?

~ There’s nonsense, and then there’s being rude, and nearly everyone in Wonderland is the latter.

Peter Pan

~ Wendy’s getting her own room? Oh, the horror!

~ This shot of Peter’s face looks so evil.

~ Geez, Wendy, making the moves on a boy you just met!

~ “I’m Mary Poppins, y’all!”

~ “That is one of the funniest casual murders I’ve ever seen.”

~ “All hands on deck! We’re gonna shoot a kid!” “There’s a flock of them, we gotta hit at least one!”

~ Every scene with the Indians is uncomfortable to watch.

~ The Chief’s mouth moves so weird…

~ I really wonder why all these girls like Peter, he’s kind of a jerk.

~ They all want free tattoos!

~ Wendy, it wasn’t “wonderful”, I legit just saw you have a terrible time in Neverland.

Lady and the Tramp

~ This is such accurate puppy behavior. 

~ “Meanwhile, on the other side of the tracks…”

~ “Mmm, yep, I just woke up… what a day!”

~ “Oh no.”

~ “I don’t like this lady.” “She’s a Karen.” “She is!”

~ Plot twist, it’s the rooster that’s shooting them. 

~ The dog pound scene is worse than those humanitarian commercials. 

~ This rat is a surprisingly scary Disney villain. 

Sleeping Beauty

~ “Oh, look, it’s the three of us.”

~ “Do you not understand the concept of growing up?! This isn’t Neverland!”

~ Don’t follow strange voices, you might get captured by the fae. 

~ “Yep, they’re definitely you two.”

~ Since the raven was hit by the magic spewing from the chimney, it would have been funny if he had been colored a splattered blue-and-pink mess for the rest of the scene. Imagine Maleficent’s reaction if he had come back to the castle like that.

~ “I think the kings are a little drunk.” “Psht, lightweights.” “Well, that guy is a lighter weight.”

~ And Prince Phillip gets captured by the fae.

~ *fumbles over the word “Gargoyles” and it comes out “GARGLES”*

~ “It’s a demonic ritual.” “No, it’s a barbecue.” “Eh, same thing.”

~ *argument over whether Maleficent’s bird is a crow or not*

~ People don’t talk about the fairies enough, they’re more the main characters of this movie than the title character.

~ “Maleficent, the final boss!” “Guess this is a video game now.”

~ “She said a bad word!” “Jiminy Cricket said worse.”

One Hundred and One Dalmatians

~ Roger here acting like it’s his wife having a baby

~ When Pongo turned off the TV, the guy in the commercial looked startled just before he disappeared.

~ Cruella has a devil phone

~ All these dogs are good dogs

~ In this house we stan the Colonel, Sergeant Tibbs, and the Captain

~ This poor man has no idea why this lady is going all road rage on him

~ *the three of us die laughing at the implications of “Oh, Pongo, you old rascal!”* 

The Sword in the Stone

~ “This guy looks like the Stabbington Brothers from Tangled.”

~ *A4 keeps cooing over the unfortunate wolf*

~ Just use magic to fix up your loft!

~ This boy is discount Cinderella

~ “How many people are in this castle?” *sister proceeds to count each character that shows up or is mentioned, including the ever offscreen Hobbs; there’s not very many*

~ This is sexual harassment! 

~ Hey, the owl’s giving him some actual education!

~ Honestly, Merlin’s not very helpful, no matter how much Arthur claims he is.

~ This isn’t a plot, this is just random animal shenanigans stringed together and calling it “education”. What exactly is Arthur learning that’ll help him when he’s king?

~ The sword was only relevant for the last five minutes. 

The Jungle Book

~ EVIL WINNIE THE POOH

~ STONER ELEPHANT

~ Bagheera, no, every time you leave, something bad happens!

~ Musical numbers are trouble or at least invite it.

~ *guess what song we start singing*

~ “I’ve only known Mowgli for half a day, but if anything happened to him I’d kill everyone in this jungle and then myself.”

~ The elephants are the ones behind deforestation!

~ “Shere Khan reminds me of Count Dooku and I’m not sure why.”

~ “I like these vultures. They’re friends.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Next Time: The Bronze Era / Disney’s Dark Age)

#disney #disney marathon #commentary #cinderella #alice in wonderland #peter pan #lady and the tramp #sleeping beauty #101 dalmatians #the sword in the stone #the jungle book

[wendy-comet]

I just found your blog but please do tell us about your community movie ideas!!

YES THANK YOU

First off full disclosure, while I've seen the first four seasons like eight times, I've seen five and six maybe once or twice. I get SAD once Troy leaves 😭😭 also prep for a long-ass post here

Alright so a college reunion is exactly the sort of thing Dean Pelton would set up, you know this in your heart to be true. He's planning a dance, with refreshments and decorations and Green Daye, also his own costume. And of COURSE he's going to invite the study group!

Jeff and Britta are the only original members still in town, as a teacher and bartender respectively.

(cut to me, pounding my fists on the table, LET JEFF AND BRITTA BE GOOD FRIENDS!! They have movie nights and Jeff pretends not to get emotional invested in whatever they're watching, but he absolutely does.) they both do actually enjoy their jobs! they like feeling like people need them around, in one way or another.

Shirley manages a fairly successful chain of her sandwich shops! Also she def won Cutthroat Kitchen once. Annie is an FBI agent and it's a lot more paperwork and less shenanigans than she used to imagine it would be, but she does, mostly, feel like she's making a difference. Sometimes. Also she figures out she's a lesbian and has a gf. (I KNOW this would never happen in canon but..... let a gay dream) Troy got back from his yacht trip a while ago and does on and off repair jobs, but is still sort of unsure what he wants to do with himself. Abed has had mild viral internet success and a patreon for the videos he makes. I'm thinking very "What Your Ship Says About You" videos for inspector spacetime and the like.

Everyone loosely keeps in touch with each other, but they're all busy and half of them are in different time zones. Troy and Abed in particular video call each other like, all the time.

Now there are two ways this could go. The way it would be likely to go given reality and the tone of the show, and the way I would write it if I was writing a fanfiction, which I'm not, I'm just....... hypothesizing...... (i would write a version with trobed fake dating)

THAT ASIDE

the dean finds a time that everyone can be there, and he hires a party planner to help him make this the best community college reunion the world has ever seen! everyone arrives and there are some awkward but sweet reunions.

the central conflict is that the party planner is actually a plant from city college, who is jealous of greendale's renewed success, and they take the grant money and run without doing any actual party planning.

so now they have to track down the planner and plan a party with no supplies and no budget. Everyone has their own sub arcs but this post is Already Somewhat Long so I will perhaps leave most of those out, except:

in my dream version of this there's a very sweet bit of friendship between Jeff and Annie where she reveals to him that she's gay, and he's like "how did you know?" because goddammit let jeff be bi! also britta, while i'm at it, but she has fewer hangups about it than jeff. but this mlm wlw solidarity scene is not something I'd be legit hoping for in a movie, that's more just some thing I Want For Me

what I WOULD hope for is trobed!!! relearning what they are to each other and realizing they don't want to go back to living a world apart, that they've always felt that compulsion to come home. that you can grow up and still love tv shows and dressing up, that it's okay to be interested in whatever and whoever you want! troy gets interested in building things rather than just fixing them, and this culminates in him designing, idk, a cool fancy light set up for the dance

which of course they pull off at the last second, and all the old guard background students are there, pop-popping as they will. the party planner, who turned out to be dean spreck in a fake hat and mustache, almost destroys the whole party in a fit of rage, but is stopped at the last second by a deus ex ma-chang-a, and the money is returned and the day is saved!!!!

also abed writes a movie about it and gets renown in-universe. it's very meta.

and in my dream universe there's definitely an end credits scene of him in a tux looking at the camera going "and that's canon!" and then he turns and he's walking down the aisle to troy, and it cuts to black and there's a voice over "troy and abed getting maaarried!"

#community #trobed #annie edison #abed nadir #troy barnes #Jeff winger #six seasons and a movie #long post #asks #community spoilers #sort of #BRITTA AND SHIRLEY AND JEFF HAVE DEEPER ARCS TOO I PROMISE #just this post is already too long and i gotta go back to work

[mikrokosmos]

“Beethoven Sucks at Music”

A Response from a Classical Geek

So this video by the ever insightful 12tone channel came up in my YouTube recs, and I knew from the clickbait title I had to respond. To be fair to him, the argument is much more legit than the title would give off, but there are still some points that I want to comment on

“Can you name a Beethoven tune?”

He starts off saying most people can maybe hum a few melodies, but probably don’t know most of Beethoven’s work. Bee’s one of my favorite composers, and I have listened through all his major works. But sure, there are many classical fans who either haven’t listen to much of Ludwig, or don’t even like what they have heard so they listen to others. However, the general public? Well how much of the general public can name a Van Gogh other than Starry Night? How many know the name of the painter of The Scream? If you showed a random person on the street a set of Renaissance paintings, could they tell which artist painted which? What about impressionist paintings? Or have they read anything by Flaubert or Ibsen or Woolf? I’m not trying to gatekeep or be a snob [I couldn’t name the Renaissance painters, and I haven’t read any of those three], but rather to point out that “greatness” in art doesn’t have to equate with popularity. And Beethoven is definitely more popular than most classical ‘greats’.

The Canon

This is a pretty big insight that more people should reflect on. Why is Beethoven programed so much? Because he sells, and he sells because of people who like his music, but also people who want to be the people who like his music because Beethoven is a mark of cultural capital. Doesn’t mean they don’t “really” enjoy it, but that there could be an subconscious [or maybe deliberate/weaponized] desire to show others “I appreciate fine art”. Again, not trying to gatekeep, but think of the difference between...I don’t know, a random teenager who comes across Beethoven online and falls in love with the power of the scherzo from the 9th and wants to hear more, and someone like Ben Shapiro playing a Beethoven violin sonata after making a podcast about how Rap isn’t real music or that today’s music is “worse” than the Western greats. You see what I’m getting at? There is unfortunately a vocal minority of classical fans that want to use the music as fodder for their reactionary arguments.

Next, he does a great job covering the history of “the canon” and the cultural factors that created it.

We say Beethoven is good because of German-centric nationalism

Partly true. It’s especially funny to look at what composers of the 19th and early 20th century were thinking and saying about Beethoven and the Germans. Both the French and the Russians were annoyed by the German superiority being pushed in the music world and wanted to make their own cultural standards for ‘greatness’. And famously, both Debussy and Ravel were sick of Beethoven and were “anti-Wagnerian” in their aesthetics, and most of the “classics” of the Modern era were reacting to and against Beethoven, Brahms, and Wagner. Of course it doesn’t mean that Beethoven’s music isn’t great, rather that German nationalism and also ethnic pride coming from the German immigrants of 19th century America has a lot of cultural dominance. Ask a French person who the greatest composers are and they’re likely to say Couperin before Bach, Berlioz before Beethoven.

He then points out that, while the Canon is a cultural agreement, it is kept fixed and fossilized.

Focusing on Beethoven keeps music students from focusing on what they care about

You don’t have to love Beethoven. But if he’s saying that schools should only focus on what is ‘culturally relevant’, then are we throwing Shakespeare out of the curriculum? I don’t live in the same culture and time as him, but I still find Macbeth compelling, and Julius Caesar, and Othello...they are still great stories, and forget the idea of ‘high art’ because they’re full of lowbrow death and murder plots, sex jokes, fart jokes, and have a lot of badass moments [the witches of Macbeth, the ghosts of Hamlet, the assassination of Caesar, the sword fights and taunts of Romeo and Juliet, etc.]. I don’t live in Beethoven’s time either, but the Eroica pounds in my heart. I don’t think that the old classics should be the only thing we look at, but I don’t think we should only look at contemporary popular culture either. And frankly the best academic courses and professors are those who examine both with a similar eye. We always draw cultural parallels across art through time.

Who gets left out of the Canon?

This is a legit thing to look at. Lately there has been a greater shift at performing and looking into the music of otherwise ‘marginalized groups’. Though it may be too little too late, especially when the zeitgeist of today is knowing that there are so many stories and perspectives that are ignored or shut out from a canon. How often do you see the distinction of “women composers” instead of mentioning people by name? The same happens with “black composers”, or composers from non-European or non-”Western” countries. It’s important and overall a better thing for our culture to highlight these people, but there is still the connotation of them as a footnote to the “real” canon that doesn’t need a modifier [I mean, how often do you hear someone call Beethoven a great German composer, instead of just “great composer”? Lili Boulanger is a great composer who is almost always called a great woman composer…]

I also agree that there is the issue with the idea of teaching only what’s “important” for understanding a class, especially with art since it is cultural but usually it is taught like a forward thinking narrative. The major influencers are mentioned while great artists who can’t serve the narrative are left out. An interesting example would be Schopenhauer and his philosophic influence on classical music for his time, even though his major ideas are from Hindu and Buddhist theology filtered through 19th century German philosophy.

The Invisible Hand of the Canon

Also a great point. Why do we assume that the music of black composers isn’t “good enough”? Or “women composers”? Or “Turkish composers”, “Mexican composers”, “Filipino composers”, etc.? Where are these standards coming from? Let’s bring up two other greats, Mozart and Debussy. Who is better? Really, it falls down to opinion, because the music aesthetics of the two are so different, that you cannot make a real judgment without admitting that you’re assuming one set of standards over the other. Now, the music of Boulanger is much closer to Debussy than Mozart, so why would we judge her against Mozart to determine if she deserves to be sanctified into the Canon?

And I hate to be a gatekeeper, but I love out-snobbing the snobs, so when someone takes the conservative position of the Canon’s greatness, I wonder are they able to listen to a piece by Schoenberg and explain its relation to the German romantic tradition, regardless of if they enjoy it or not? Because I have seen ignorant defenders of Beethoven and Mozart call his work “random noise that a cat could play” and I want to know if they actually engage with the music beyond listening to 30 seconds and getting a rage wedgie

Does Beethoven suck?

He admits no, it was just clickbait. But his attitude or proposed attitude toward Beethoven is much more honest. The ‘greatness’ of his work is the experience you get from listening to it. Or, you can respect his art without really caring about it or listening to it much. But yeah, the more we acknowledge the artifice of the Canon, the easier it is for us to look at more music with a more critical eye, and I think that’s much more engagement than passively agreeing with the assumption of greatness for cultural capital. No, Mr. Shapiro, you don’t look smart or impressive for talking about Mozart instead of Lamar at a cocktail party. And if you do, it’s because you’re trying to impress stick-in-your-ass dull rich people who have no taste.

The End :D

#classical music #beethoven #beethoven sucks at music #music criticism #music history #music theory #academics #critical theory #canon #art canon #art history #ideology #12tone #video essay #response #classical #classical music history #reactionary politics #culture war #blog post

[mirrorfalls]

The Alchemist When He’s Full of Metal: Vol. 1

Welp. In for a panel, in for a pound.

(Preemptive warning: Anything I have to say about how innovative the overall writing is has probably been said better by @phantomrose96​​​ - for instance, check out her reflections on Ed as a protagonist - so I’m mostly gonna go subjective stream-of-consciousness here. You know, like how I always review things. But with 50% more gratuitous One Piece comparisons.)

Since my first contact with it was glimpsing the anime (2003, natch) on [adult swim] two hours past my bedtime, I inevitably remember this series as darker and bleaker than it actually is. Okay, it is the funnybook that starts with two boys trying to fuck every law of God and man and getting fucked right back to the tune of one-and-a-fifth bodies, but you know what most of it, at least in this first volume, is?

None of the jokes are really bad in and of themselves (a few, especially Rosé’s “If you have faith, you’ll grow taller!”, legit made me crack up), but at the rate they multiply, the omake section almost feels like a canon part of the last chapter instead of... well, omakes.

... aaaaand that’s about all the bad I’ve got in mind, because man does this thing click in pretty much every other category. To wit:

I feel 95% confident in saying no Shonen title before this would’ve even thought about building a magic system off the goddamn Periodic Table, much less succeed at it. Nothing about the results are objectively less Capital-F Fantasy than your Jutsus or your Zanpukto or your Devil Fruits, but they sure feel like it, to excellent “if you were just a little smarter you could be just like him!” effect.

And how ‘bout that Sorcerer’s Philosopher’s Stone, eh? Some people say it’s gauche to establish your central MacGuffin and magic system cheat-card this early; I say that the earlier you get these things down, the less cheaty they feel.

Haki? Never heard of it good day Sir!

The three (immediate) villains nicely balance each other out: a hardboiled badass, a squishy noncombatant, and an in-between. Even when the latter two kind of overlap in terms of setup, it requires Our Heroes to face them down with different tactics.

Edward rattling off the market price of a human body? It’s as wonderful and biting a piece of character establishment for me at 25 as it was at 15.

That good gooooood urban-fantasy aesthetic. I’m never going to say no to a train fight in any case, but it’s extra Good when they’re all this beautifully-drawn.

If I had to pick a watchword for what this first volume promises for the series as a whole, it would probably be sleek. More than once I’ve seen friends liken this series to those nice shiny watches so central to the heroes jobs’: every introduction perfectly timed, every fight perfectly paced, every plot-point perfectly seeded, every character perfectly pointed to a specific purpose. It may or may not shock or astound the way that other, wilder series do, but as long as you pay attention it will never disappoint.

And, I mean, my attention span hasn’t yet seen the multi-volume series it couldn’t break, but I have faith in you, Arakawa-sensei. I have faith.

#Lego reviews stuff #Fullmetal Alchemist #I'll try to pump these out on a daily basis #Keyword being try