#I fucking love being able to boop people

[your-coffee-pal]

I dont want to beat the catboy allegations anymore *boops you* boops you* *boops you* *boops you* *boops you* boops you* *boops you* *boops you* *boops you* boops you* *boops you* *boops you* *boops you* boops you* *boops you* *boops you* *boops you* boops you* *boops you* *boops you* *boops you* boops you* *boops you* *boops you* *boops you* boops you* *boops you* *boops you* *boops you* boops you* *boops you* *boops you* *boops you* boops you* *boops you* *boops you*

#I fucking love being able to boop people #press stupid button make brain go brrrr #boop #EVERYONE GETS BOOPED!!!

[daincrediblegg]

no you know what I'm going to scream about the stuff I talked about in the tags of this post publicly

I'm tired of the well-meaning "don't feel bad if your work only gets 20 notes your genius is what counts and do it for you!" bullshit. I've had a good handful of friends who have straight up DEACTIVATED in recent months because their work was not getting reblogged AT ALL. No, it wasn't from lack of not being well-liked, no it wasn't from lack of trying to make sure it was getting out there to the people they knew would engage with it. It was because no matter how much they were praised privately for their work, when push came to shove, absolutely NOBODY reblogged it and gave it the audience that it was due, and I'm tired of people shoving the "unsung genius" narrative as an excuse for it. Nothing excuses that. And the boop event really proved that.

because I know given the opportunity, indiscriminately pressing a button (sometimes 10 thousand times, as I did) is not beyond this website's capability. y'all loved doing that. and look at what it wrought. nothing but love and affection and happiness. just from a couple of quick clicks of a little paw button. sure. nobody knew who you booped but the other person (which is how likes used to work on this website, btw). there was an element of anonymity to it. but that is kind of the core of this website that no other social media platform still has: the ability to be anonymous. and hyper-curating a blog on here like you might on twitter or instagram to project an image is simply not viable. and hey. you wanna know a secret: literally nobody cares what you post or whether it goes with the "theme" of your blog or not. yeah. I know. CRAZY concept in this day and age. but literally. I myself have reblogged things that have had nothing to do with whatever I am currently fixated by and you know what happened to my follower count? not a damn thing. in fact, I actively try to reblog things specifically BECAUSE it's my friends who made them (even though I'm not always good at KEEPING UP WITH HOW MUCH THEY POST @prismatica-the-strange will NEVER GO UNRECOGNIZED by me).

And you know what fucking sucks? I have to deal with this too. surprise right? you ever wonder why I reblog fics or art I post like 20 times the day that I post them? do you ever wonder why I ask about tag lists and beg for asks all the time? IT'S BECAUSE EVEN I GET LIKE. 5 LIKES ON THE THINGS I POST. AND THE REST OF THE REBLOGS ARE MINE SO I CAN MAKE SURE THAT PEOPLE WHO WANT TO SEE WHAT I MAKE GET TO SEE IT. and I say that knowing that I'm certainly not an unpopular blog, or an unpopular writer. I know that people love the stories that I create. Hell, half of the people that I've talked to about lady terror have told me that they consider her to be canon (AND EVEN SOME!! THOUGHT SHE WAS!!! WITHOUT EVEN HAVING WATCHED THE SHOW! WHICH IS STILL SO SO WILD TO ME!!!) But especially in the last 4 years (which really dates this phenomenon), my posts, no matter how well received they've been amongst people I've talked to about them directly, I still go into the notes and at least half (often more than half) are MY reblogs to make sure people saw what I posted. and it happens every single time, and I can't tell you how much it crushes me considering that it used to be that I would be able to post it only once, and people would reblog it sometimes even HUNDREDS of times.

It's not about popularity. it never has been. it's not about anxiety. or shifting website cultures. even if you lurk, the simple fact is, that if you want people to keep making what you love. you have to reblog. your theme won't suffer because you reblogged a fanfiction that you really admire. your posting won't be ruined because you reblogged some fanart from someone in a different fandom. really. I promise. and if people do unfollow you for that? who needs em. followers come and go but you should NEVER have to cater to them. on this website it has ALWAYS been the other way around. lean into it. make it yours. put stuff you ACTUALLY WANT to be seen and that you love and appreciate on your blog. no matter how old it is, how new it is, no matter how niche or off-theme it is.

so please. if you really want to show your appreciation for someone's work? you reblog. it's really as easy as that. check the tags. add some when you reblog if you like. but please for the love of god reblog. it's as easy as booping and even more rewarding for the people who you reblog from. if you want to let someone know that their work is genius and appreciate it? show it. reblog. then DM them if you're too nervous to say what you want to say but not in a public forum. but for christ's sake. REBLOG.

#fanfiction #fanart #reblogging #boop

[kuni-is-daddy]

Gojo satoru x F!+m! reader

MINORS DNI---. ❌🤠

Female reader special! <-- Working out with gojo ;)

Gojo x F! sorcerer reader <;--

HEADCANNONS OF HIM EATING YOU OUT AND SLOPPY TOPPY

FEMALE READER. (Use of mommy)

Gojo will eat you out like ITS SURVIVALL. Pushing you over the nearest table or counter and holding your hands while he eats you out.

Gojo loves when you sit on his face after a stressful day of being annoyed by the 'higher ups' he loves looking forward to you smashing his face in between your thighs.

"D-Dont fuhkin stop baby. Cum on my face mommy. Wanna swallow that cum down my throat~ please give it to me~"

Gojo who would rub his thumb against your clit while shoving his tongue inside of you. Reaching spots you never knew existed

"Toru~ oh fuck toru. I-..Im gonna cum. Ah~ you make me feel so good daddy."

"yeah? You like that. Oooh shit~ you like how I rub on your clit?"

Gojo who BEGS you too keep riding his face even if he taps or grabs on your ass hard because it's so FUCKING hot to him.

"baby. Baby please come back. It's fine I'll be okay just plzz sit on my face again~" tsk tsk him making puppy eyes wouldn't work on you this time.

Gojo who asks you to absolutely ruin his hair. He tryna have his hair FUCKED UP. A pretty boy like him getting devoured in your pussy.

Grab his hair and jerk on it roughly when you feel like his tongue isn't deep enough inside of you. Ride his face like your holding on for dear life. Gojo wants you to completely cover his face with your cum.

Gojo wants you to have the hottest orgasm in your life. To the point where he cums so FUCKING hard through his pants.

While you make out gojo would shift his hands down your pants. "Mmm this pussy wet f' me already?" Then shove his fingers inside of you. He'd finger you against the wall while mimicking your moans against your ear.

Gojo loves to shove his fingers inside of you, rushing back and forth as if it's his cock then sticking his tongue out waiting for your delicious cum. The way he'd breathe heavy like you as he waited for you to reach a orgasm that would send you shivers.

M! READER. .(zaddy😩😩)

Gojo was tired of being asked for arranged marriages and relationships with girls. 'sorry, I'm gay yK that right. 100% gay' boop. Hangs up phone. Why bullshit around with people he doesn't even like? He wanted you.

Gojo who has you wake up to him sucking your cock. "T-toru..hah...mmh..what r you doing.."

Mmm I figured this would be the perfect way to wake you up baby. I still want you from last night, why'd you tease me like that :((

You and gojo we're at a party and he sure did make a entrance coming their in his ICONIC BLACK SHIRT (OH LAWD😭😭😩)

His muscles were FLEXED like crazy and you were NOT having all those girls stare at that sexy built man of yours.

You pushed him into a bathroom stall and pulled down his pants and fingered him

"F-FUCK Mmm~ daddy doesn't like seeing his little slut all worked up for him?" He was so fucking horny. He didn't care if you fucked him and everyone was lined up outside the bathroom. God he loved your cock inside of him

During missions he'd make quick haste with the special grade curses and pounce on you while undressing himself

When gojo gives you head he sometimes forgets his eyes are covered "Toru~ wanna see your eyes baby.. can I take it off?"

"mmph..mhm..you can do whatever ya' want to me daddy~"

While fucking him youd take the cloth covering his eyes and shove it inside his mouth. Have him crying and screaming through it while you fuck him doggy style

Gojo who sucks your dick in a hot spring. The hot water constantly splashing against his face as he bobbed his head up and down while jerking off with the other hand.

Gojo who secretly wants you to fuck him in his domain. The bliss of knowing everything and being at the center of the universe in utter peace. Being able to yell out for you so FUCKING loud till he loses his voice because no one could hear.

Pov: you said his domain gave you a headache and never went back in again :(( he begs shoko to find a way to let him change his 'nauseous domain'

#gojo x female reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo x male reader #sub jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #sub gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #gojo headcanons #gojo smut #gojou satoru x reader

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

i can’t get enough of gavriel x rowans sister, what do you think about one where she meets aelin and they instantly hot it off, reader likes to read and eat sweets aswell so they bond quickly and rowan couldn’t be happier that his two fav people in the world love eachother so much. And also what so you think about a timeskip to after the war when everything is at peace and reader finds out she’s pregnant. She doesn’t know yet but gavriel and rowan smell it on her the second she and aelin come back from shopping, how cute🥰🥰

Green napkins

You had been over the moon excited to finally meet your brother’s mate. Gods, you still remembered the day he had told you that he had a feeling that Aelin was his actual mate. Oh, how he had cried for Lyria. How much he cursed Maeve. You had held him through it all. Trying to soothe the aches in his heart. But then pain had been replaced by so much peace and calmness when you had asked him to tell you about her and from the way he spoke alone, you knew that he was truly in love.

"Sweetheart, this is all very sweet but there's only four of us tonight", you felt Gavriel's hands slowly sneaking across your hips. You had been cooking all morning. With the war over and you being able to come home, Rowan was finally bringing Aelin over and you might have been slightly too excited... maybe? Just eleven different dishes too excited. "But this has to be perfect", you said stepping back slightly, so you could look at the table. "My heart, it was perfect an hour ago and it is just as perfect now", Gavriel reassured you. "Do you like green or blue more?", you yanked the napkins off the table showing them to your mate. Gavriel cracked a smile and you instantly frowned, "This is serious Gavriel".

Raising his hands, he glanced over at the table, "I would go with green", "Well then we are switching the glasses", you breathed out, reaching for the glass but Gavriel caught your hand bringing you into his embrace, "It's okay to be nervous but I know that you two will love one another", he muttered, carefully brushing some of your curls away from your face. "Who said I was nervous?", you shook your head but one look at Gavriel and you knew that fooling him would never work.

"I just... I missed so much. They had gone through so much together. You all have and I was under a fucking mountain like a princess doing nothing", you huffed out. It had been a hard choice to make. Maeve had targeted you multiple times. You had been the only weak link keeping both Rowan and Gavriel in iron control. They thought that they had played the system in hiding you in another court but for that alone both of them had been forced to watch you being tortured for days, nearly bleeding to death. That had been the last straw and with the help of a couple of friends, you had been hidden in a place no one would ever look. Or dare to look.

"I had to keep you safe, had to", Gavriel said, cupping your face, "It kept you alive, gave me a chance to come back to you". You rested your forehead against his. He would slip to visit you from time to time when the blood oath started to frail. And what a meeting it was. Full of passion and lust and desire. A handful of stolen time. Where your bodies spoke louder than words. A slight swell in your stomach a clear evidence of that.

"Kept both of you safe and so I will not apologize for being selfish here", Gavriel admitted, "because I know that you would have been in front lines", "Hell yeah, I would have", you breathed out. Gavriel leaned in to press a kiss to your temple. "But now we are growing a family so mommy, no battlefields for you. Ever", he booped your nose before rubbing your stomach gently. You rolled your eyes, turning to fold napkins neatly. And since you knew that fighting him was pointless you had dropped the topic immediately.

Aelin was exactly how you had imagined her to be. In hindsight even more amazing than you had painted her to be in your head. Queen or not her shy smile as she greeted you told you all you needed to know. She was worried because Rowan was never going to leave you. The only family of his left that he was ready to die for. So your opinion mattered in this.

"I bought you some of my favorite sweets”, she had shyly handed you a box, “I wanted to get more but Rowan said it was already too much”. You glared at your brother and he simply lifted his hands, “There was no implication in that comment, just didn’t want to leave the poor man with an empty shop”. Gavriel carefully took the box in, giving you a chance to reach for Aelin, “I have a feeling you and I will be great friends”, you muttered.

“And I have a feeling we will be in a lot of trouble”, Rowan nudged Gavriel’s shoulder, who tried to suppress a smile. “Shut up, Rowan”, you and Aelin both huffed, falling into fits of giggles straight after. Leaving the two males to shake their heads. “How you deal with her is beyond me sometimes”, Rowan barely whispered, making Gavriel smirk, “Careful, she cried over napkins today”.

And the evening couldn’t be more perfect.

You got to fuss over the three of them. Filling up their plates over and over again. The conversation flowed so easily as if you had known your brother’s mate for centuries on end. “Sit down, darling”, Gavriel muttered as you rounded the table once more. “But the peach pie”, you pointed towards the kitchen. “I’ll get it”, he said softly, leaning over to kiss your temple. “But you still need to…”, “Flip it over onto the white plate, tap the top, and let it slide out of the tray without poking it”, Gavriel said with a smile, “I got it petal”, he reassured you. “I’ll help you with the plates”, Rowan pushed back his chair after giving his mate’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

“I could tell that Gavriel was a man with a big heart before but with you…”, Aelin trailed off, “He mentioned you so much while we… you know…”, she shifted awkwardly. “I hope only good things, cause he might end up sleeping outside”, you huffed playfully. “I too have to say that I have never seen Rowan so at ease before”, your eyes darted toward the kitchen. Where you could just about see two giant soldiers fighting a pie tray. “I love him”, Aelin’s words were barely a whisper and you instantly gazed at her, reaching over the table to clasp her hand, “Oh, I can tell. Your eyes say it all”.

#gavriel tog imagine #gavriel x you #gavriel imagine #gavriel x reader #gavriel #tog imagine #tog x reader #tog x you #throne of glass x reader #throne of glass x you #rowan whitethorn x reader

[ladyfogg]

Sleepover

Sleepover

Fic Summary: After a late night of studying, you decide to sleep over at Eddie’s for the first time. Things take an interesting turn when you’re woken in the middle of the night by an aroused, but sleeping, Eddie. Eddie Munson Oneshots Masterpost. 

Fic Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI)

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Female Reader (Reader is 18)

Warnings: Friends to Lovers, Language, Canon Divergent, Grinding, Masturbation (Female), Oral (Male Receiving), Unprotected Sex (no condom, reader mentions being on the pill), Creampie, Pretty Much Utter Filth

A/N: Into the trash I go. Don’t know where this came from but, oh well! Enjoy!

It’s crunch time for finals.

While you’re on track to graduate, Eddie is army crawling toward the finish line. He’s trying, trying harder than he’s ever tried before, and while you believe in him, he says he doesn’t want to take any chances. So when he asks you to help study for Ms. O’Donnell’s final, you happily agree. He’s managed to scrape by with a C in his other classes and this is the only thing standing in his way of finally getting his diploma.

Eddie deserves to graduate. He’s trying hard. He wrapped up the Hellfire campaign weeks ago and is even putting off band practice until school is done. You’ve never seen him this determined before.

Which is how you find yourself in his trailer Saturday night, sitting on his bed while pouring over textbooks and notebooks.

Eddie’s face is pinched in concentration, his eyes narrowed as he reads through your notes. He never takes any himself, always using yours because you’re a sucker and can’t help but share. It’s late. Way later than you anticipated but it’s for a good cause. Anything to help your friend finally walk across that stage. The fact that you’ll be graduating together makes your heart skip a beat.

“I’m doomed.”

You look up from the practice test he had taken earlier, which you’ve been silently grading for the last ten minutes. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m never going to remember all this in time!” he says, arms gesturing to the notes and books scattered across the bed. “The final is first thing Monday morning.”

“And we still have all of tomorrow,” you reassure him. “Eddie, you got this!”

Groaning in frustration, he dramatically falls onto his back. “Maybe I should just face the fact that I’m never going to get out of that fucking school.”

This is a side of Eddie people rarely see. Yes, he’s loud and boisterous, and totally unashamed of who he is. Yet, there’s a slight self-conscious side that only you’ve been privy to over the last few years. It’s like he feels comfortable letting his guard down around you, something you cherish. You love being able to see a side of him that no one else does. It makes you feel special, and that your friendship is special.

“Uh-uh, nope. You’re not following that train of thought,” you scold, putting your notebook down. Leaning over him you give him the most reassuring smile you can. “You’re doing great. You got this.”

He looks up at you. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“Of course I am, is it working?” You’re teasing him obviously. He’s actually doing fairly well by comparison to where he was when you started studying. He just can’t see it because he’s tired and frustrated.

Grinning, Eddie reaches up and boops your nose. “You always make me feel better, sweetheart. How did I do on the practice test?”

Grateful for the distraction, and needing something to focus on other than the racing of your heart, you draw back and lift the practice test so he can see the C- you wrote on top.

It makes him smile. “Fuck yes!”

“See, told you. You’re doing awesome. There are a couple of things you got wrong in the essay question, but that’s nothing we can’t clean up. Let’s study a bit more and call it a night.”

And so, you two get back to work. Eventually, after reviewing flashcards and taking another practice test, Eddie decides to raid the kitchen for a snack, leaving you to your grading. It’s been a long trying day. You don’t think you’ve ever studied this much in your entire high school career. While you manage to get a handful of good grades, you’re no genius and would much prefer playing D&D or reading fantasy books rather than reviewing schoolwork.

However, there was no way you could turn Eddie down when he begged you to help him. He looked so desperate and hopeful, how could you refuse? You’ve never refused Eddie in your life and you aren’t about to start now.  

While he’s taking his break, you start to go over his second practice test. Or is it his third? You’ve lost count. You also underestimate how tired you are because the next thing you know, your eyes drift closed and then, Eddie’s hand gently shakes you.

“I’m awake!” you say, head flying up off the book you were using as a pillow.

Eddie chuckles, peeling off the note card that’s stuck to your cheek. “It’s late,” he says. “I’m calling it. Study session over.”

You don’t even bother trying to stifle your yawn. “Alright, fair enough. What time is it?”

“After midnight.”

Shit. Definitely too late to ride your bike home. “Damn, I really wish I hadn’t fallen asleep.”

“I can drive you.”

Eddie looks as exhausted as you feel and you don’t like the thought of him getting behind the wheel. You’ve been pulling several late nights and you doubt he’s in any mood to drive. You’re watching as he helps gather your study materials when a simple solution comes to mind.

“Mind if I crash here?”

Eddie pauses for a moment, looking at you over his shoulder. “You want to sleep over?”

“Is that a bad idea? I just figure since we’re going to meet up tomorrow to keep studying anyway, it doesn’t make sense for you to take me all the way home and pick me up again early in the morning. Besides, my parents are both working doubles at the plant tonight.”

You don’t like the thought of being all alone in your house, especially with all the weird shit that happens in Hawkins.

“I mean, my uncle will be home later and will need the pullout bed, so you and me will have to share mine if you’re cool with that.”

Your heart starts to pound faster at the idea. Throat suddenly very dry, you have to swallow before you can respond, “I’m okay with that.”

You see a flush come over him, “Great. Alright.” Looking around the room, he runs his hand through his hair. “Um, here, just let me…” He starts to clear the clutter of clothes from his bed and you take the time to put the studying materials away.

There’s a strange energy about Eddie all of a sudden. It’s hard to pinpoint, hard to describe until you realize that he’s never been one to go out of his way to clean for you. You’re over his place all the time and he knows you don’t care about the mess. But now that you’re sleeping over for the first time, he almost seems nervous.

The air is thick with tension.

You’re not sure if it’s coming from him or from you, but you try to act casual, try to seem like this is no big deal even when your heart is threatening to implode.

You’re acutely aware that sharing a bed with Eddie is a new situation for you and your friend. As close as you two are, you’ve never spent the night at the other’s houses and definitely haven’t shared a bed before. The thought gives you butterflies, making your hand slip on the zipper of your backpack. Eddie doesn’t notice. He’s still moving around his room, occasionally swearing under his breath and saying sorry when he moves something else out of the way.

A moment later the bed is cleared and Eddie turns to you. “Do you need sleep clothes or anything?”

“I usually sleep in a t-shirt. But I can keep my jeans on if you’re more comfortable with that.”

“Who wears jeans to bed?”

He has a point. “No pants it is,” you say. “I guess I can just wear this same shirt tomorrow.”

“Here.” Eddie reaches into one of his drawers and pulls out one of his many Hellfire shirts. “You can wear this.”

“Thanks.”

There’s an awkward beat of silence and you’re right about to excuse yourself to the bathroom to change when Eddie says, “I’ll just give you some privacy.”

In the blink of an eye, he’s out of the room and closing the door behind him.

You stand there for a minute, your heart racing faster than it ever has before. It’s just a sleepover at your friend’s house, you don’t know why you’re both such a nervous mess.

Feeling like you’re in a dream, you take off your jeans and leave them folded on the dresser. Next comes your shirt and you suddenly stare at your reflection in Eddie’s mirror. It’s surreal seeing yourself half-naked in his room. A certain level of excitement washes over you at the image and you find yourself wishing the scenario was different, that maybe you were sleeping over because Eddie wanted you to, not for convenience’s sake.

Shaking the thought from your head, you take your bra off, rolling it up with your shirt and sticking both with your jeans. When you put Eddie’s shirt on, it smells like him. It makes you smile, pausing to savor it. There’s something acutely intimate about wearing your guy friend’s shirt, especially when it’s a shirt you know he loves.  You slide into bed, making sure to pull the covers up around your waist.

A few moments pass before there’s a knock on the door. “You good in there?” comes Eddie’s voice.

“All set.”

The door opens slowly and Eddie stumbles in dramatically, his hand covering his eyes. “Are you sure you’re decent? It would be such a shame if I walked in on you naked!”

Laughing, you lay down and try to get comfortable. “Eddie, you can look. I’m not naked.”

His hand drops from his face. “Well, why the hell not?!”

“I’m sorry, am I supposed to be?” you tease.

“Well, yeah! That’s how these things go, right? You ask to stay over, I give you my shirt, and then you surprise me by getting completely naked.”

Still laughing, you roll your eyes. “Stop goofing around and come to bed.”

The phrase sounds so casual yet incredibly intimate at the same time. Eddie’s smile doesn’t fade, but he’s looking at you differently. It’s hard to pinpoint, how to tell exactly what’s going through his mind. It’s enough to make you fidgety and self-conscious.

“What?” you ask, hands twisting the edge of the blanket in your hands.

“Nothing,” Eddie says. “It’s just, you look good in my bed, sweetheart.”

The heat rises to your face and words escape you. How do you respond to something so sweet and obviously flirty? Not that Eddie hasn’t flirted with you in the past but that was just him being playful. Wasn’t it?

Before you can think of a response, he reaches for his belt.

There’s a moment, a split second where you can either lay there and watch Eddie undress, or roll onto your side and pretend like you’re not hyper-aware of the fact that he’s about to slide into bed next to you. Deciding to give him the courtesy of privacy, like he did for you, you turn on your side to face the wall. Eddie’s belt buckle never sounded louder. A moment later, you hear his jeans hitting the floor and then rustling as he steps out of them.

The room is plunged into darkness as Eddie gets the lights.

Your breathing is shallow, your head spinning when you realize you haven’t taken a proper breath in the last minute. You feel the rise of the bedsheet as Eddie draws it back, then the mattress dips under his weight. His bed isn’t very big, something you hadn’t considered when he brought up sharing. You try to move as far over as you can but you’re right against the wall and there isn’t very far for you to go.

“You can look now. I have no shame or modesty.”

“Oh, I’m well aware of that.”

His voice is so close and you have to swallow past the lump in your throat before you turn around to face him. He’s lying on his back, shirtless with the blanket draped over his hips. It’s dark but there’s enough ambient light coming through the window from outside for you to see him. It makes him look almost other-worldly and you know the image is going to be burned into your mind for years to come.

“It’s okay, I won’t bite,” he teases. “Unless you really want me to.”

“Haha, very funny,” you say, even though the mental image isn’t funny at all. It makes your heart race and your thighs clench.

“You alright? You seem nervous.”

“I’m fine,” you say a little too quickly. “It’s just…this is new. For us. Not that there is an us. I just meant, we haven’t shared a bed before and it’s new…for us.” Dear God, you’re babbling and repeating yourself. Can you be any more obvious?

“New doesn’t always have to be scary,” Eddie says, turning on his side and propping his head up with his hand. “Think of this as another phase of our friendship.”

You smile and roll onto your side to copy his pose. The two of you are only inches apart. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, and see his tattoos even through the dim light. Your fingers ache to trace them, to touch him in some way, but you keep your hands to yourself. He’s not wearing any of his jewelry. No necklace, no bracelets, not even his favorite rings. Somehow that makes him seem more naked. You don’t know if you’ve ever seen him without them.

“And what phase would that be?” you ask.

He studies you through the dark. There is a beat of silence before he responds, “That all depends on you, sweetheart.”

Fuck you love it when he calls you that. You’ve only ever heard him call his guitar “sweetheart” up until several months ago when he casually called you that while hanging out one night. Your mind had gone blank and you had been so surprised, that you forgot what you were doing. He of course found it incredibly amusing and now calls you that whenever he can just to get a rise out of you.

Between wearing his clothes, sleeping in his bed, and laying right next to him, your senses were surrounded by everything Eddie Munson. It makes it hard to ignore the way his smile makes your stomach drop, or how a simple touch of his hand on yours sets a fire ablaze in your veins. It's making your head spin. You also have no idea how to respond to him. What does he mean it depends on you? What depends on you? What phase is he talking about? He can’t possibly be talking about becoming more than friends, could he? That seems almost too fantastical for you to believe. You may want him that way but he hasn’t shown any indication he feels the same way about you. Has he?

“I love our friendship,” you say, carefully choosing your words. “It’s more special to me than anything in the world.”

“But…?” Eddie draws the word out, waiting for more. Waiting for you to explain yourself. Possibly waiting for you to reject him. Holy shit, that’s it. Your mind is going a mile a minute and you’re trying hard to remain calm. This discussion is real, he’s legitimately asking about being something more. Isn’t he? You don’t think you’re jumping to conclusions, but it’s still hard to plunge into the deep end.

“No buts. I just want you to know how important you are to me,” you tell him. “And if me sleeping over means we get closer, then I’m really glad I asked to stay.”

He studies you through the dark. You can’t read his expression but you can see his eyes scanning your face, searching. “I’m glad you asked to stay too,” he eventually says. “By the way, you look damn good in my shirt.”

“And you look good without it.”

The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. You’re so caught up in the moment and he really does look great shirtless that you speak without thinking. Whelp, no taking it back now. Eddie laughs, reaching over to run his hand down your cheek. He leans forward and places a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Get some sleep,” he says. “We’ll talk more in the morning.”

Yes, the morning. Good idea. It’s best to talk after you’ve had a long rest and time to process this shift happening between you.

You expect him to turn on his back or face away from you. But he doesn’t. Instead, he stays right where he is, facing you. There’s a moment of contemplation where you think about turning around, yet you don’t. You stay where you are as well, face-to-face with Eddie, cuddled close in the dark. Your body is exhausted from the long day and your mind is ready to shut down for the night.

It doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep. Between the dark room and Eddie’s slow, even breathing, you’re lulled off to dreamland in a matter of minutes.

Hours later, you’re brought back to consciousness just as quickly, but you’re not sure why.

It’s still the middle of the night. You can tell by the darkness and the quiet outside the trailer. You’ve moved in your sleep and are now facing the wall again, except this time, Eddie’s body is spooned up behind you. His arm is draped over your waist and you can feel the even rise and fall of his chest against your back.

Laying there, enjoying the comfort of him holding you, you’re about to close your eyes when you feel it, a sudden hardness digging into your lower back.

Your sleep-addled brain doesn’t catch on right away.

You shift to get comfortable, too tired to really consider what it could actually be. Until, you feel it again, this time accompanied by a quiet moan from Eddie.

Sleep is now a distant memory.

Is he…? Did he just…?

When it happens a third time, you know for sure it’s not your imagination. It’s pretty unmistakable what is happening. Unsure of what to do about it, you stay exactly where you are, listening and waiting. As far as you can tell, Eddie is sleeping. The persistent press of his hard cock happens once or twice more before it stops. However, that doesn’t mean it goes away. You can feel it, straining against his boxers.

Heat washes over you and you bite your lip because now your own body is waking. Waking and realizing exactly what situation you’re in.

Your cunt throbs from neglect.

Ignore it and go to sleep, you tell yourself. Just pretend like everything’s alright and go back to sleep.

Easier said than done. No sooner do you close your eyes than Eddie moves. Not fast and not purposeful. His arm is still very much limp across your waist, telling you he’s fast asleep. But his hips haven’t gotten the memo.

You feel his cock press harder, his body reacting to what it wants while he’s blissfully unaware.

It starts with small, slow rolls of his hips, creating just the barest hint of pressure. You can feel his breath on the nape of your neck, hot bursts of air every few seconds. Your cunt throbs again, more persistent this time and definitely interested in whatever is the hell is happening.

Nowhere in your wildest dreams did you ever think you’d wake up this way, with Eddie rutting against you in his sleep.

It’s getting increasingly difficult to ignore. Your best bet is to try and shift closer to the wall, to try to put distance between you. Yet, when you move, Eddie’s arm draws you back, flush against his chest with his erection tucked snuggly under your ass. He mumbles your name and then he’s still once more.

Fuck, he said your name.

Fuck does that mean he’s dreaming about you? Has he dreamt about you before? How the hell are you supposed to sleep with those thoughts running through your head?

You’re wet. Even without moving you know that you are, can feel the dampness seeping into your panties. Suddenly, the thin blanket is too much. You’re Hellfire shirt, no, Eddie’s Hellfire shirt is too constricting.

He's not thrusting anymore, but it’s worse now. Because now his cock is snug between your ass cheeks, and the thin fabric of your panties and his boxers isn’t leaving much to the imagination.

You need relief and you need it now.

Biting your lip, you listen closely to Eddie’s breathing, making sure it hasn’t changed. As far as you can tell, he’s definitely not awake. If you’re quiet and careful, you can hopefully give yourself some kind of reprieve. Otherwise, you’ll never get back to sleep.

You wait a few seconds, wait until you can pluck up the nerve to touch yourself, in your best friend’s bed, while he’s asleep next to you. Taking a deep breath, you slowly spread your legs. Your panties are so fucking wet you can feel them sticking to your aching core.

Carefully, you let your hand slide down the bed, inching closer and closer to where you need it. You reach the hem of your panties, pausing to think, really think if this is what you want to do right now. Of course, there’s no point because you know it’s going to happen. It needs to happen. You slip your hand into your panties. At the first press of your fingers, you almost moan out loud. Fuck you’re soaking wet and aching for the man lying beside you. You haven’t even done anything yet and you’re already hypersensitive.

Gathering your slick with your fingers, you rub two of them through your folds. Your body almost weeps with relief, even though you’ve barely gotten started. Your nipples pebble under your shirt. You have to fight back a moan as they brush lightly against the rough fabric.

You’re being careful, trying hard not to move anything other than your wrist. Eddie’s cock twitches, like it knows what you’re doing, like it’s begging to join the fun.

God, you wish it would. You wish he would.

You’re so wet that your two fingers slide into you effortlessly. A small gasp escapes your lips and you’re too wound up to notice. Still trying not to move too much, you keep your fingers buried deep, wiggling them just enough to get that spot that makes you see stars. Fuck this feels good. It’s not Eddie’s cock but damn is it still getting the job done.

Your hips slowly start to rock with your hand, needing more pressure, more friction. You have to literally bite your tongue when your fingers slide out of your soaking hole to trace wet circles around your clit.

It's not going to take you long. You’re too worked up to drag it out.

Falling into a steady rhythm, you touch yourself to thoughts of Eddie. It’s easier when you’re in his bed, wearing his shirt, laying with his body heat pressed along your back. His scent is all over you, like cigarettes, weed, and that cologne he wears. The one you got him for Christmas last year. But underneath, the scent of your arousal is unmistakable. To have both of those in the same place conjures all sorts of naughty images, fantasies you only indulge in the middle of the night. Usually alone.

Except for tonight. It’s all overwhelming and you can feel yourself getting closer and closer…

Eddie’s hand suddenly locks around your wrist.

It’s like someone dumps a bucket of ice water over your head. Frozen in place, you’re too scared to move or make a sound. Plush lips brush your ear and Eddie’s voice, low and raspy from sleep, sends a shiver down your spine.

“What are you doing, sweetheart?”

Shit! Has he been awake this whole time? Was he grinding on purpose? Or did you wake him up with your stupid fucking libido and attempted stealth masturbation?

He has to know you can feel him. It’s pretty fucking obvious. He also has to know what you’re doing. There’s really no other reason for your hand to be between your legs.

“What are you doing, Eddie?” is the only response that comes to mind.

“Sleeping.” His thrust this time is harder and purposeful. “At least I was until someone woke me up.”

“In all fairness, you woke me up first.”

You’re breathless and your cunt throbs angrily, begging for you to keep going. Squeezing your thighs together does nothing to relieve the pressure, especially with your hand still trapped.

“Did I?” he asks. “Maybe I should make it up to you.”

His hand slides down to join your hand and your gasp can no longer be contained. Oh my god, this is happening. This is really fucking happening.

“Fucking hell, you’re so fucking wet,” Eddie groans in your ear. His tongue darts out to trace the shell and a powerful shudder runs through your body. “Don’t stop on my account.”

His fingers press yours, forcing you to circle your clit again. Unable to hold back and so fucking turned on, you pick up where you left off.

You feel Eddie’s other arm slide under your body and the next thing you know, you’re yanked to his chest, trapped in a tight hold. His mouth is all over your neck, kissing, sucking, and nipping at the sensitive flesh. His free hand pushes your shirt up and fondles your tit, giving it an appreciative squeeze before moving to the next one.

His fingers mirror yours, following your lead. The sound of your fingers through your wetness is obscenely hot. When you slip a finger inside yourself again, one of Eddie’s joins you, and you selfishly wish he hadn’t taken his rings off. You can only imagine how the cool touch of metal would feel in this moment. Your hips thrust forward with excitement.

Eddie’s hips do the same.

He’s grinding his cock against your ass constantly now, panting and groaning in your ear as he does. “Such a dirty girl, fingering yourself in my bed,” he pants. “God I can’t wait to feel you come.”

The Hellfire shirt is sticking to your sweaty skin. Your cunt is dripping, your slick sliding down your thighs where you know it’s staining Eddie’s sheets.

“Fuck, this is so fucking hot. Shit, I’m gonna blow my load like this.” He’s humping himself against your ass, getting closer with each desperate thrust.

“Don’t,” you beg. “Don’t…not yet. I want…”

“Tell me,” he begs, lips claiming your throat with harsh kisses. “What do you want, babe? I’ll give you anything.”

“I want to suck your dick.”

Eddie’s hand stops in surprise but your orgasm can’t be delayed anymore. You come hard, seeing white and grinding yourself on his hand, covering him with your release. No fantasy can ever do this feeling justice. The fact that Eddie is the one who made you come only heightens your arousal and has you moaning his name. You keep moving until the last shocks of pleasure subside and you’re left shaking and panting.

Eddie’s hand slides out from between your legs and he rolls you into your back.

Your first kiss is sloppy.

His mouth finds yours in the dark but you’re too blissed out to focus or kiss him properly at first. He doesn’t seem to care. With a moan that has your cunt clenching, he kisses the life out of you, tongue pushing past your lips to taste.

Your hand falls to the bed but his is back between your legs a second later. He touches, he rubs, and he explores, dragging tremors out of your body and building your pleasure again. Is this for you or for him? Either way, you don’t care because he’s rubbing your clit in rough circles and it’s driving you absolutely insane. Two fingers slide into you without warning.

His fingers fill you in a way yours can’t, the delicious stretch an appetizer, a tease, for what’s to come.

“Eddie, let me suck you off.” You’re the one begging this time. You need to touch him, taste him. You need to make him feel as good as he’s making you feel.

“Fuck, yes. Soon, baby, soon. Just want you to come for me one more time.”

He gets his wish a moment later. Your second orgasm is as powerful as the first, sucking the air from your lungs and leaving you twitching. He kisses you through this one, swallowing your moan as you drench his hand. It keeps going and going, the pleasure never truly fading even when his hand draws away.

You want to touch him now. You have to touch him now. Putting your hands on his shoulders, you push him into his back. You take a second to pull the t-shirt off and discard your ruined panties somewhere at the foot of the bed.

Eddie shoves his boxers down to join them.

He wraps his hand around his cock, using your slick as lube while he starts to jerk himself off. It’s a beautifully erotic sight ripped right from your filthiest fantasies.

His cock is fucking gorgeous. Long and thick, with a vein running along the bottom that you want to trace with your tongue. Your mouth waters at the sight of his swollen head, red and begging to be sucked. Ever the showman, he’s putting on a performance for you, showing you exactly what you do to him and what he wants from you. What he needs. You straddle him for a moment, taking his face in your hands and bringing him into a searing kiss before you start your descent down his body.

You leave a trail of kisses and love bites along the way.

You want to mark him, to make him yours. Everything you haven’t been able to say comes bubbling to the surface and fuels your actions. If you can’t tell him, you’re sure as hell going to show him. When you settle between his legs, he’s still holding himself. Precum is already seeping out of the tip and you knock his hand away, replacing it with your own.

Fuck the weight of him is fucking incredible. Just the thought of how he’s going to stretch you is enough for your cunt to clench in anticipation.

“Fuck, babe, please do something,” Eddie begs, running both hands through his hair. “Seeing you get off was the hottest fucking thing of my life…oh shit!”

He gasps as you wrap your lips around the leaking head of his cock, sucking the salty, headiness of him down with a decadent moan. His hands fly down to your head, fingers digging into your scalp as you start to work your mouth down.

He's so fucking hard against your tongue.

Mouth stretched wide, you try to relax your jaw, taking as much of him in as you can. He groans when he feels the slight resistance of your throat flutter around cock.

“Shit, shit, shit, sweetheart. Fuck your throat feels so fucking good. Yeah, swallow around me.”

You do your best before dragging your mouth up the length of his cock, coating him in your saliva. When you take him in again, you get him further this time, using your upper body to pin his hips to the bed. You do it over and over, working him in more and more until you manage to take him all. He grips your head and holds you there for a second, a litany of swears spilling out of his filthy mouth.

“Fuck! Oh my fucking god, let me fuck your mouth. Please let me fuck this pretty mouth of yours, babe.”

You pick up the pace, finally tracing that thick vein with your tongue and bobbing your head up and down on his lap. When you ease the pressure on his hips, he loses it.

He starts to thrust into your mouth, saying your name repeatedly while his hands continue to hold your head. “Fuck me this is heaven. God, can’t believe you can take it all. Gonna fuck this mouth all the time now.”

You’re fucking lost yourself. The visual of sucking Eddie off in his van or going down on him at his special picnic table in the woods is almost too much. Eddie has always been a drug to you, but experiencing him like this is making you an addict. Your thighs are soaked, your jaw is aching, but you can’t stop. Won’t stop. Don’t want to stop.

Apparently, Eddie has other plans.

When he suddenly pulls you off, you gasp for breath and whimper with disappointment. “Why’d you stop me?” you pant.

Eddie is looking at you like he’s a starved man and you’re his next meal. “I was too close,” he says, sitting up. “Didn’t want to finish like that.”

“How do you want to finish, Eddie?”

He groans and pushes you onto your back, maneuvering your legs so they’re bent at the knees. “Anywhere,” he says. “But not before I fuck you.”

“Fuck me, Eddie. I’m on the pill. I want you to come inside me.”

He crawls up your body with a growl before attacking your lips in a bruising kiss. You can feel his cock between your legs, wet from your mouth and his precum, hard like velvet-covered steel. He reaches down to grab himself, teasingly sliding the underside of his cock through your wetness, coating himself with you.

You’re so slick, so ready, and eager and waiting, that when he finally pushes into you, tears form in your eyes. You nearly weep from joy, his cock giving you that delicious stretch you’ve been waiting for.

Eddie’s eyes are all you see. He’s staring into yours with rapt attention you’ve never known. It’s like he wants to memorize your face, wants to see every detail as his cock finally slides home.

Because he is home. He’s exactly where he’s supposed to be.

Damn it’s a fucking stretch. Even with all the prep and wetness, he still spreading you open. Your hands fly to his shoulders, your back arching as he slides in more and more…

His lap is snug against you for an entirely different reason now. And you’ve never felt more full or alive in your life.

Eddie kisses you while he fucks you. It’s slow at first, gentle like he’s trying to make sure not to hurt you or taking his time to savor. But he can’t hurt you. He never could.

And you’re too wound up, too happy to finally have him that you don’t want it slow.

“Fuck me hard, Eddie,” you moan. “Fuck me like I know you want to. Trust me, I can take it.”

“Shit!”

That’s all the encouragement he needs. Eddie fucks you into the mattress. It creaks and groans under the onslaught, your bodies rocking together desperately. Having him like this, over you and in you, is everything you ever hoped it would be and nothing you ever expected. He sits back in his heels, his hands on either side of your waist as he watches his cock slide in and out of you. Those fucking gorgeous brown eyes watch your tits bounce along with his thrusts.

“So good, so fucking good,” he groans. “Shit, you’re so fucking tight. Such a fucking amazing pussy. Fucking knew you’d feel good.”

Your hands cup your tits, fingers tweaking and pinching your nipples as your body comes alive. No thoughts remain except Eddie and his cock.

His hands roughly grab your ankles, bringing them to his shoulders. He wraps his arm around your legs to hold them close against his chest. With a fluid movement, he lifts himself onto his knees and suddenly the angle is deeper, his pace brutal, and you’re loving every fucking second of it.

Skin slaps skin as Eddie fucks you into oblivion.

You’re aching and raw, and Eddie is filling you up in a way you never thought possible. You never want this to end, never want to do anything else but be wrecked by Eddie fucking Munson.

“I’m gonna cum, sweetheart,” he moans nearly bending you in half. “I’m gonna cum in this tight pussy, baby.”

“Yes, Eddie! Fucking come inside me. Fill me up.”

“Fucking gonna pump you full.”

Your final orgasm comes out of nowhere and happens mere seconds before his. The hot slick wetness of his release fills you so much that your body can’t contain it. Even as he’s still fucking himself through his pleasure, you can feel him leaking out of you, dripping down your ass and onto the rumpled bedsheets. Another stain for him to deal with at some point.

Eddie leans forward and now you really are bent in half, if only for a second. Long enough for him to give you one more kiss, teeth clacking together in your excitement as his hips stutter for a moment, then finally stop.

All is quiet except for the sounds of you two trying to catch your breath.

Your ankles slip from his sweaty shoulders and Eddie pulls back. “Fuck, babe. That was the fucking best.” He’s still inside you, somehow still twitching even in his afterglow. He stares between your spread legs, watching his cock slide out and admiring the mess he’s made.

“All mine now, sweetheart,” he coos, a hand reaching out to stroke your thigh. His eyes meet yours, his lips pulled up into that grin you love so much.

“I was always yours, Eddie,” you pant.

Sitting up, you reach for him as he reaches for you, his hand cupping the back of your head and yanking you into another hungry kiss. He moans into your mouth, tongue continuing its exploration from before. Already you can feel your desire building again, although did it ever really go away? No, no it didn’t.

Your cunt is a sticky mess and when you and Eddie finally break away you say, “I should probably clean up.”

With a smirk, Eddie’s nose brushes yours. “It’s my mess. I’ll do it.” Before descending between your legs.

Needless to say, you don’t get much sleep that night. Nor do you study much the next day.

Eddie passes the test on Monday anyway, and when he proudly shows you the grade, you reward him with another sleepover.

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #joseph quinn #eddiemunson #josephquinn #stranger things

[depravitycentral]

Yandere! Phinks Magcub General Profile

Yandere! Phinks Magcub x fem! reader

Tw: kidnapping, violence, Phinks slaps you, mentions of murder, mentions of non-con, mentions of masturbation, possessiveness, Phinks has anger issues, mentions of stalking, fem! reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy! 

DARLING PROFILE:

Friendly

In general, Phinks is not a soft man. He’s a hard edged criminal, finding his thrills in beating others and theft. There is no part of him that’s sweet –  in fact, he’d say that would almost be an insult.

And yet, there’s something weirdly alluring about a darling who is; someone who’s genuine, kind, and social. Phinks isn’t that much of a talker, but there’s something about just being genuinely friendly and open to other people that he finds incredibly cute. Naïve, yes, but adorable nonetheless.

It’s endearing to see his darling so freely chatting and interacting with those around them, making them smile and laugh and feel comfortable. It’s endearing, until suddenly it isn’t – once his obsession with them forms, Phinks is honestly hating this side of his beloved’s personality.

Of course, it’s overwhelmingly cute and only further shows just how soft and sweet and opposite his darling is compared to him, but once his possessiveness forms it’s a bit of a death sentence for anyone his darling decides to smile at, to give a random compliment, to do anything.

He wants no one taking his darling’s time, no one getting the opportunity to bask in the warmth and loveliness that is his sweet, precious darling. All of that is reserved solely for him, and he’ll be damned if he has to share.

So while this his darling’s friendliness is initially part of what attracts him, it also helps drive forward many of Phinks’s more troubling tendencies – he’s so possessive if only because his darling talks to so many strangers, and at the end of the day, isn’t it really just their fault? For being so damn sweet?

Playful

Despite being one of the most dangerous criminals in the world, it’s incredibly easy to fluster Phinks. He’s not particularly smooth with women, and so a darling that is quick on their feet is a perfect match for him.

He likes the idea of his darling being able to keep up with him, always knowing what to say to get him at a loss for words, their quick tongue making him bashful and struggle for words. It’s embarrassing to look so foolish when he’s blubbering and unsure of how to respond when they wink at him and tell him he’s looking handsome today, but he'd be lying if he said he doesn’t fucking love it, his ego multiplying tenfold with every compliment that slips past his darling’s lips.

He likes the idea of his darling being chipper and happy, if only because Phinks himself is easily swayed by his emotions, and having a positive darling helps him stay calmer and more in control.

Besides, as his obsession grows, so do his fantasies – he’s got this daydream of his darling cooking with him, all domestic bliss while they move around the kitchen and he sits at the dining table watching, with they sending him looks and throw jokes over their shoulder. He wants them to boop his nose with a bit of sauce or flour, then kiss it clean, winking at them and watching his face go bright red as he clears his throat and tries to recover.

It’s lame, he thinks, to be so vulnerable, but he can’t deny the way his heart races when he thinks of it, how he gets all warm and gooey on the inside like some lovesick teenage boy.

A playful darling would be a good fit, and Phinks is smitten as soon as he sees this side of them.

Patient

Because Phinks has issues regulating his emotions, having a darling who is more steady and consistent is a good match for him. He needs someone who is able to calm him down, to stop him from exploding and raging at the slightest inconvenience, and as time passes Phinks slowly begins seeing his darling as his rock.

He turns to them for emotional support more often than he would like to admit, and as soon as he feels rage swimming in his veins he’s desperately running to them, because even just seeing them calms him down, the anger replaced by fondness, love, yearning.

He becomes dependent on them from a very early stage, their presence being the only thing to make him feel normal, sane, calm, and he quickly grows addicted to the feeling.

His darling is like his own personal drug, and really, how can Phinks be expected to not chase down this feeling, to not snatch his darling up all for himself? He’s a selfish man, and he has his needs – he’s just lucky that his darling, with all their patience and ability to calm him, fulfill more than just one of his needs.

Many more.

Competitive

This one isn’t absolutely necessary for Phinks, but a more competitive darling is a significant turn-on for him. He likes a darling who isn’t completely meek; he wants them to be a bit of a spitfire, and while he doesn’t want them to be too competitive, he likes that his darling doesn’t just simply roll over and submit to those around them.

It’s attractive to see the way they get this glint in their eye, a desire to win rolling through them, and frankly, when Phinks sees his darling acting this way, he has to shift his pants a bit, discreetly trying to hide the way they’re getting just a bit too tight.

He likes this about his darling, but when it comes to him, Phinks doesn’t particularly like this trait. When he’s trying to take care of them, to protect them, he wants his darling to give into everything he says, to obey him without question.

He’s just trying to help them, and if his darling grows stubborn and decides to be a brat, he struggles to remain calm and rational, to not lash out and tell them to shut the fuck up and get into the bed, you have to sleep.

He wants his darling to keep this fiery personality trait, but to regulate it so that they aren’t super competitive with him – maybe playfully, sure, but not to the point where it throws a wrench in the relationship.

After all, he wants your relationship to normal, perfect, healthy, and if his darling is constantly fighting him, how can it be any of these things? Can’t they at least try and make it work, just like Phinks is? Can’t they see how frantically he’s trying?

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:

Lucid

Despite not exactly being the most romantic man alive, Phinks has enough knowledge about relationships to know that the way he feels for you is far from normal.

He’s very aware that you probably wouldn’t appreciate how his every thought revolves around you, how he’s constantly wondering what you’re doing, who you’re with, how you’re feeling, if you’re thinking about him…

He knows the obsession he’s harboring over you is wrong, that he’s a creep and a perverted, sick freak for tracking your whereabouts, for killing any man that comes close to you, for loving you in such an uncontrolled, passionate way, and while he wants to stop himself, to halt the feelings his has for you and lose the intense fascination and desire he feels for you, Phinks just can’t – both in reality and in principle. His feelings for you are too great, too intense and overwhelming and wonderful for him to ever be able to dispel of. He'll quickly come to the conclusion that he’ll always be in love with you, regardless of what happens, and regardless of how long he lives.

There’s just no way to lose interest in the person he honestly believes is his soulmate, the person he’d give anything and everything for. He quickly  gives up trying, because it only hurts his heart, only makes him more and more desperate for you.

And of course, there’s also the more selfish side of him that loves having someone to love, someone to care for and want to protect at all costs. You’re one of the only people in his life that Phinks actually gives a damn about, that he wants to see safe and smiling and free from every single curse this world can dole out, and so the mere concept of losing you, of trying to forget you and move on causes his heart to physically hurt.

You’re so important to him, the main reason why he’s still living (aside from the Troupe, of course), and while it eats him alive from the guilt, Phinks slowly begins rationalizing his obsession and need for you as simply wanting to give you the amount of love and care that you deserve. He wants to be a good partner for you, for you to always be satisfied and want for nothing because of him, and one of the ways in which he shows this is to absolutely spoil you.

He’s never been the best at soft, gushy feelings, but the warmth that brews in his heart when he picks up the bouquet of red roses, of soft baby blue buttercups, of white tulips, he can’t help but smile softly and feel his cheeks heating up, because you deserve every fucking flower in the world, and even then they wouldn’t be enough to compare to your beauty.

When he picks out the necklace he’d like to steal for you (he won’t tell you it’s stolen of course, but you’ll quickly come to realize the exact nature of his profession), his heart hammers in his chest at the thought of you wearing it, of you loving it and proudly telling him and the world that Phinks owns you, that he treats you so well, and that he gives you everything you could ever want.

He spoils you beyond belief, hoping that the gifts will make up for his all of his violent, overbearing, wrong tendencies. He hopes it’ll work, and for the most part it helps ease his mind – so if you’re somehow who doesn’t like getting gifts or being so indebted, get used to it.

Phinks wants to give you the world, and with his skills in the ways of procuring valuables, he’s readily prepared to give it to you. Anything for you.

Possessive

In Phinks’s mind, you are completely and utterly his.

He still has enough lucidity about his feelings to recognize that you’re your own person, but only to a certain extent – yes, you have your own feelings and thoughts, but every part of you belongs to him. Your mind, such a pretty and entertaining thing to him, is owned by Phinks Magcub himself, forced to bend to whatever he wants and dictates, just as it should be.

Your body (something he spends hours dreaming about, shaky fingers hovering over your curves for minutes at a time once he’s got you in front of him) is his property, for him to do whatever he pleases with.

He figures that because he does so much for you (all of the protection he provides you, the security and guarantee that no one will ever touch you), the least you could do is be willingly his, to give into his possessiveness and let him just completely own you.

He has a real problem with jealousy where you’re concerned; in his eyes, every single male on the planet is a rival for your love and affection, a possible deterrent from you realizing how Phinks himself is the only one you could ever be truly happy with or need. His automatic assumption for every man within a ten foot radius of you is that they want you, that they want to talk to you and smile at you and use you and touch you and fuck you –

His blood boils the second someone approaches you, regardless of their intent – your male friend stops by to ask about the newest assignment from your boss? Immediately Phinks is scowling, fists clenching at his sides, aura flaring up impossibly because why is this piece of shit staring at you like you’re some slab of fine meat?

When the man in the grocery store accidentally bumps into you after turning around, immediately Phinks is shaking with rage, angry that this man thinks he can just touch you like you’re some commoner, like you aren’t the literal reason for his very existence.

 It’s unhealthy to be so controlling and obsessive over making sure that you stay his, and for the most part Phinks knows this – he knows that he really shouldn’t have a say in who you hang out with, who you think of and where your gaze falls as you sit on the subway car to work, but he just can’t help it.

You’re all he thinks about, all he cares about, the only thing besides killing and the Troupe that gets him up in the morning; it’s the promise of making sure that you’re safe, of making sure that nothing ever gets between the two of you that gives him the drive to function.

Of course, while the swirling mix of rage and utter desperation for you is never ending in his gut, he’s more than aware that in order to really have you, in order to get you to actually love him back and not be terrified of his every move, he can’t be nearly as obvious as he wants to be about his infatuation with you.

He wants nothing more than to sock every man in the face who so much as glances at you, to leave them bloodied, bruised and thrust to death in the most painful ways, all with you watching and seeing just how far Phinks is willing to go to prove his love to you. But he knows that if you saw that you’d only cower away from him, terrified of what he could do to you if he was able to destroy so many men larger, stronger and more knowledgeable about combat than you.

And really, fear is the last thing Phinks wants you to harbor for him – he craves a normal relationship with you, to have all of the overplayed, cliché romance Hallmark movie moments with you. So while the urge to just grab you and keep you away from everything and everyone, to keep you completely and utterly his is nearly too overwhelming to ignore, Phinks holds out.

For you.

Because he knows it’ll only push you away, and Phinks isn’t kidding when he says he would literally die without you – you’re a drug to him, and he’s a greedy man.  He isn’t willing to share his supply of happiness with anyone else, no matter how you beg and plead with him. He’s stubborn, so it’s really in your best interest to just submit to your fate and let him hold you in his lap, hands awkwardly set at your sides and palpably clammy.

Just let him do what he wants, because in the end he’ll always get what he wants.

Protective

While he’s by no means a gentle man, there’s something about you that makes him pale at the idea of being rough. Maybe it’s because you’re just so weak compared to him, so soft and sweet and nice, but he can’t stomach the idea of letting other people hurt you.

He’s more than aware that the world is full of horrible, blood thirsty criminals who kill at the snap of a finger (hell, he’s one of them, he would know), and in the context of your safety, Phinks can’t help but imagine all the worst case scenarios. He can’t help but imagine any number of them getting their hands on you, of any of them deciding that you’d be a quick, fun kill. He can vividly see in his mind you being snatched off the street, gagged and bound at the wrists while some psychopath makes you cry and scream, your pretty blood staining your skin and the life draining from your eyes.

The idea of you being hurt, tortured, raped, killed or any number of other horrible things is genuinely something that gives him nightmares. There’s this cold, sinking feeling in his gut that forces him up and out of bed, racing towards your home when he awakes from these dreams, his lungs burning as he runs faster than he ever has.

He’s picking at your lock with trembling fingers, slipping inside and hurriedly rushing to your room, eyes darting around wildly to make sure that you’re still breathing, that your body is all in on piece, that you aren’t bleeding and sobbing and broken.

He’s only able to take a deep, steadying breath when he sees you safe and sound asleep, your chest rising and falling steadily while your eyes dart around under their eyelids.

It’s a calming sight, one that immediately makes his heart stutter, his cheeks heating up because god, how can you be so beautiful without even trying? He has to grab onto the corner of your drawers to steady himself and keep from sinking to his knees in relief, and sometimes even a tear or two will trickle down his cheek if the nightmare was particularly graphic.

You dream of strange men that night, fingers gripping onto your hand with a force that makes you wince, your palm clammy and aching when you wake up in the morning.

He’s paranoid about your safety, absolutely convinced that without him around you’d be nothing more than a pile of bones rotting in some monster’s basement or left to die in some ditch in the country side. He’s not used to caring so intensely about someone, and he’s quite honestly blindsided by the enormity of his feelings, of how the compulsive need to be checking up on you every minute of the day hits him so hard at the most random moments.

He’s irritated in a way, at how you seem to draw so much emotion out of him without even trying, but Phinks could never, ever be mad at you about it – after all, while it’s overwhelming and scary just how much he cares for you, he wouldn’t trade the way you make him feel for the world. You’re so warm and soft, and you make Phinks so fucking happy.

Just being around you is enough to give him a massive serotonin boost, a smile that doesn’t leave his face all day no matter how hard he tries (the blush is present too, and Feitan is constantly teasing him, always telling him how he’s such a sappy little schoolgirl, did you write about her in your diary?, only to be punched halfway across the room and still snicker). He’s giddy, truly, even if you so much as glance in his direction or give him some half-hearted smile. In general Phinks can’t express enough how grateful he is to have someone like you in his life, such a beacon of happiness and joy for someone as misguided and undeserving as himself.

It’s only natural, then, to want to keep his source of love and devotion and obsession safe, to make sure that nothing will ever touch you or harm your perfect body, your pretty skin.

He isn’t exactly subtle about his protectiveness over you either – you’ll realize very quickly that he thinks of you as a glass doll, with the way he’s always hovering at your side, moving you closer to him anytime another man passes, eyes raking over your frame at constant fifteen minute intervals to check for bruises or cuts.

(And, though you don’t know it, the way that Phinks rummages through your things and makes sure that every blade in your home is dulled, that your stove can’t go any higher than a medium setting, that your locks are all the highest quality grade, it makes his obsession over making sure you don’t ever get hurt more than apparent).

It’s a curse he doesn’t mind undergoing, if only because he honestly views you as needing him, requiring his protection to live your life.

He’s not exactly sure how you managed to survive as long as you did without him, but now that he has you in his sights, so obviously needing him and being desperate for a big, strong man like him to make sure that you can have the easiest life you can, Phinks will make sure that he lives up to your each and every expectation of him.

After all, your opinion means everything, and just seeing your smile and hearing your laugh is enough to have Phinks proud, knowing that he’s fulfilling his role, that he’s keeping you safe and happy and his.

DEALING WITH RIVALS:

Jealousy is something that gets the better of Phinks much more often than he’d like to admit. He’s so possessive, so hellbent on making sure that you stay his and that no one else even so much as looks at you, that it leads to him interpreting interest from other guys way more often than what’s really true.

You’re absolutely perfect to Phinks, a literal human embodiment of everything he could want in a partner, both good and bad. And because of this, he’s so convinced that everyone else would be just as in love with you, just as desperate to make you theirs and keep you with them as he is, so isn’t it his job to make sure that that can’t happen?

Everyone is a threat to the relationship he’s so desperate to have and build with you, and Phinks will stop at absolutely nothing to make sure that nothing could ever possibly separate the two of you. His desperation is honestly a bit pathetic, to the point where many of the members of the troupe honestly take pity on him, thinking it’s sad to see their fellow comrade so helplessly obsessed with a sweet, innocent woman.

Jealousy consumes him, to the point where all he’s seeing is red, panic lacing at his chest because what if you decide that man who’s chatting with you and making you laugh is better than Phinks?

What if you decide that you’d rather be with the waiter at that restaurant you love – the one who always jokes around with you because you’re such a regular customer?

Phinks isn’t the most insecure man around, but when it comes to you and the question of your relationship, suddenly he feels like a teenage boy again; awkward in his own skin, terrified that the girl of his dreams thinks that he’s too violent, too ugly, too boring and mean.

And while he knows rationally that you don’t think these things, how can he help it when he’s watching from a few dozen yard away as you laugh and thank the man in the supermarket who helped you get the can of food at the very top shelf?

How can he help it when he sees you being so nice to others, being so kind and generous and friendly, only to have them turn around and exploit you for every ounce of kindness in your bones?

It makes him angry, beyond enraged to think of how others could be hurting you, how they could be trying to steal you away, wanting to beat you or kill you or rape you or any number of things – and so, Phinks must make sure that you stay safe, that there’s absolutely no chance on you ever being alone with another man. He has to keep your wellbeing in tact, and, of course, keep you completely his and his alone.

Because he feels so strongly when he sees that man approach you on the street corner and ask you in you know where the nearest bank is, Phinks has trouble holding himself back.

You’re kind to the man, blinking up at him and scrunching your brows in thought, trying to answer his question as he patiently stands beside you, a small smile on his face. Phinks is pissed – how dare this piece of shit, this worthless nobody approach you like that? How dare they start a conversation with you, stare at you, get to bask in your presence when only Phinks himself should be getting that pleasure?

His fists are clenched at his side, jaw set so tightly he almost fears his teeth might crack. His eyes are narrowed in on the both of you, his mind desperately telling him to stop, don’t do it, don’t do it Phinks she’ll just get scared and then you’ll make backwards progress – and it works, to a certain degree, up until the final straw as the man chats with you.

His hand, placed on your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze as he smiles down at you, leaning forward ever so slightly for what Phinks is absolutely positive is a glance down your shirt. Suddenly he isn’t just seeing red anymore – he’s seeing scarlet, the bloodlust oozing out of him enough to propel him forward, his face the epitome of rage as he cocks his fist, landing a hard punch against the man’s jaw, hearing a sickening crunch accompanied by the man’s screams.

He’s on the ground in a second, Phinks straddled above him, fists flying as he beats him to a pulp, the rage never ending as he thinks of all the terrible, horrible things that he’d likely been imagining with you, that he’d been aiming to try with you, all while Phinks was right fucking there (or, a good fifty away, but still). He’s growling out curses and spitting on the man, telling him that he’s just a stupid piece of shit, you’re fucking disgusting, you perverted bastard, trying to cop a feel and sneak a peek.

You’re left to watch, shocked beyond belief and too frozen to move as you watch Phinks slowly pull more blood from the man, his body already bruising and twitching as desperate sobs out what you can only assume are pleas to stop escape the victim’s throat. And yet, you can hear perfectly what Phinks is saying, some more distinctly than others – don’t fucking touch her, she’s mine do you understand? I own her, she’s mine, mine mine mine and no one gets to touch her, to look at her, to think about her, certainly not digusting wastes of space like you!

Your jaw is dropped, still too scared to move as you register his words, wondering who this ‘she’ was, if he possibly meant you…?

Phinks doesn’t stop until the man is disfigured beyond recognition, his face smashed in on itself from the beating of his fists, blood staining the pavement under his head, though the frantic rise and fall of his chest and the small pathetic, pained whimpers tell him that he’s still alive.

But at the sudden sound of you sharply gasping and stumbling backwards, trying to put space between yourself and the monster in front of you, suddenly Phinks’s eyes are widening, his head whipping around as he shoots to his feet, running over to you and caging his arms around you.

He pulls you flush against his chest, his heart beating wildly as he whispers frantic apologies in your ear, voice desperate as he tells you he’s so sorry, I don’t know what got into me – he was just touching you and his eyes were basically fucking you and I just – I can’t watch anyone do that to you. Please, you have to understand, tell me you understand!

And while you’re terrified, feeling some of the man’s blood rubbing off of Phinks and onto you, at the end of the day you’re more terrified of one day being in the man’s position, so you shakily nod, whispering that it’s okay, I know you didn’t mean it.

And as Phinks’s body relaxes, relief coursing through him, you can only stare into his chest, fear and hopelessness settling into your heart, because is this who he really is?

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:

Phinks really does want you to want him.

He’s so in love with you, so desperate for you to return his feelings that it physically hurts, and as a result he’s trying everything he possibly can to approach you normally, to not give away how obsessed he is over you, how badly he wants to just hold you in his arms and never let you go, never let another living soul see you besides him.

He knows his feelings for you are unhealthy, that it’s wrong that he thinks of you as a possession, that he wants to own you, but he just can’t help it. And yet, because of his commitment to wanting to keep your relationship as normal as possible, as happy as possible, Phinks knows that doing something rash like stealing you away really isn’t the best idea.

It’s tempting – tempting as hell, if he’s being honest, because just the idea of you and him living together in a little house bought specifically for the both of you, you waiting patiently for him every evening with a hot dinner on the stove and a big welcome home kiss is enough to have him gulping, a blush dusting his cheeks at the sheer domesticity of it all.

He loves the idea of keeping you dependent on him, of keeping you only by his side where he can keep you safe and make sure that you understand how much he loves you, but he can’t bring himself to actually do it.

He can’t bring himself to gently knock you out, to cover your pretty lips and nose with a chloroform soaked rag, to throw you over his shoulder and give your bum a firm pat, a grin spreading across his features as he thinks of the wonderful, perfect life the two of you are starting.

He can’t bring himself to do it, at least without some push from an outside factor. Phinks will likely try to pursue a friendship with you – he wants to be around you at all times, to have your trust in him build, to make you comfortable and hopefully give you the chance to fall in love with him as well, and because of this he’s able to sate his overwhelming desire for you.

However, try as he may, Phinks just can’t get rid of his possessiveness; even dialing it down to seem more normal and healthy leaves him with enough emphasis on making sure that you don’t talk to anyone else, that you spend all your time with him to raise a brow. And you’ll quickly notice this – he’s a friend, one that you’ve grown to enjoy spending your time with, but his random bouts of jealousy, of insecurity and clinginess are just too much.

The way he butts into your life, changing your schedule to revolve around his is just too overbearing, the signs of a toxic friendship that you know you shouldn’t turn a blind eye to.

And so, you do what makes the most sense – sit him down and tell him that you don’t think you can be friends anymore, that he’s too controlling, too possessive, that you think it would be best if we took some time away from each other, just to clear our heads.

And Phinks is panicking across from you – take a break? Split up? He knows you’re not together yet, but he can’t shake the distinct feeling of rejection, the anger and fear and distress that the idea of you being separated from him causes.

And so, on a bit of a hasty split second decision, Phinks is pressing the pressure point on your neck, catching your limp body in his arms as he takes ragged breaths, mind swimming in anger, excitement and nerves as he hauls you towards your new home, your new life with him.

As a captor, Phinks isn’t too terrible – he’s never been much of a homemaker, not really someone who’s used to taking care of anyone but himself, and while he tries (he tries so, so fucking hard) for you, he’s not especially great at it.

Of course, your health is still the priority in his eyes, something that he cares for more than his own life, and because of this he gets only the best foods, making sure to cater to your tastes and keep your diet a plentiful mix of protein, starch and vegetables, so that your body can stay healthy and strong.

He’s making sure that there’s nothing in the house you could hurt yourself with, keeping every knife and razor away from you, putting a childlock on the stove, not letting you near the freezer. He doesn’t mean to be patronizing, but as he becomes paranoid about your safety and wellbeing, slowly he begins thinking of you as less and less capable, needing more of his help and guidance to do basic things.

He likes to bathe you (though he’ll never force you into it, only ever harboring it as a fantasy until you make it reality), to help dress you (when your body is sore from a night of intense, passionate fucking, he’s more than willing to help slip on one of his oversized shirts, loving the way it pools around your frame), to even help feed you when he’s in an especially loving mood.

But for the most part, Phinks isn’t too touchy with you. He still genuinely wants you to love him, to want to be with him and maybe even enjoy your time under his roof, and in all honesty he’s nursing the dream that one day you’ll turn to him unprompted, completely honest as you cuddle up against him and tell him in the sweetest voice he’s ever heard that you love him, that you’re so happy he’s with you, that you’d never, ever want to leave him.

And because he wants so badly for you to genuinely develop feelings for him, Phinks tries everything that he can to woo you – he’s not great with romance, has little to no experience, but he’s willing to do anything and everything if there’s even the slightest chance that it’ll make you smile at him, that you’ll look at him in anything other than fear, betrayal and apathy.

He begins watching rom-coms religiously, noting the various courting methods, how the male lead always seems to get the love interest laughing, smiling and telling them how funny they are. So, he tries to make jokes around you, hoping to get you to laugh and compliment him, and while you don’t particularly want to, sometimes they’re just so terrible and the look of hope in his eyes is just so heart wrenching that you can’t help but snort, chuckling lightly.

And to Phinks, just that step alone is enough to send him on a wild goose chase, doing everything he can to try and come up with other ways to make you see him in a more positive light. He’s scouring every resource he can – romance novels, online articles about attraction, relationship podcasts, everything and anything.

He even goes to the girls of the Troupe, asking with an embarrassed expression and rubbing the back of his neck if they have any advice on how to win a girl’s heart, something that they all react quite differently to.

Machi isn’t impressed – simply staring at him for a few moments and cocking her brow, before asking him why he thought that she would be a good person to ask – do I look like I’ve ever had a guy pining after me?

Pakunoda is more sympathetic, telling him to try the staples – buy her flowers from time to time, get her little gifts that you know she’ll like. Eventually it might add up over time to where she feels loved and cared for, and then she’ll be more willing to return your feelings.

But, surprisingly, Shizuku is actually the one that gives Phinks the best advice – hmm, well I think just being there for her is important. Ask about things she loves and get her in a happy mood, and just listen to her. Nod along and add a question or comment in every once in a while so she knows you’re listening, but just let her know that you’re genuinely invested in her.

Phinks takes the advice in stride, silently stewing on it before showing up at your shared ‘home’ the next day with a bouquet of lilies in your favorite color, a grocery bag full of your favorite snacks, and a nervous, carefully hopeful smile when he walks through the door.

And really, you know you shouldn’t think of him as anything but your captor, the man who stole you away and wants to keep you as his possession for the rest of your life, but there’s just something about the way he bites his lip as you go through the bag of candy, chips, junk food and snacks one by one.

There’s just something about the way he nearly trips over his own feet as you pat the seat on the sofa next to you expectantly.

There’s just something about the desperation with which he wants to please you, to make you happy and make you love him that will eventually get to you, no matter how hard you try to fight it. Because while it’s wrong and you know it, you’ve never felt this loved before, this desired and wanted, and it’s a strange sort of confidence and boost to your self-esteem, one that manages to warp your whole mental state into thinking that maybe you really do love Phinks, even if he’s a bit rough around the edges.

He spoils you, trying his best to give you every last piece of himself and his affection as he can, and eventually you’ll come to openly receive it, to fulfill his fantasy of you finally accepting him. Besides, there’s just something about the way he blushes and bounces his knee when you compliment him makes your heart melt, and when you tell him you love him, the way he looks so shocked, but so happy and soft and god, is he crying?

Phinks is desperate for you to return his feelings, for you to love him as he loves you, and he’ll stop at nothing to get you there.

PUNISHMENTS:

Phinks has a bit of a temper.

It’s something he’s always been aware of, and for the most part he couldn’t care less – he’s a thief, someone who gets what they want, and if he gets angry in the process, that just means a few more necks to break. He’s used to acting out on his anger, to mercilessly beating and killing those who make him mad, and in a lot of ways it’s simply autopilot to him.

But where you’re concerned, Phinks is absolutely the opposite. He’s terrified of hurting you, of somehow leaving marks of violence on your pretty, soft skin, and for the most part he manages to succeed in not lashing out against you, in not blemishing you in any way. He loves you, and the last thing he wants to do is abuse you, to punch you and kick you and take out every bit of his anger on you, so instead he tries to focus the rage elsewhere.

The desire to just punch something is too great to ignore, and if it can’t be your face or body, the next closest thing is the wall beside him. It scares you and never fails to leave you gasping and shuddering in fear as he punches a hole through the drywall, the grimace of anger and pain turning his features into some monster-esque look, and as you slowly back away, hands covering your mouth and trying to put distance between the both of you, Phinks can only sigh.

He hates scaring you, but his anger gets triggered so easily that it’s something he can’t even hope to control, that he can’t even try to conceal. He gets quite good at fixing drywall, and for a long while it works out. He gets angry at you, punches a hole in the wall, spends a few minutes breathing deeply and muttering under his breath, before turning to you and telling you to not go near the kitchen knives again, do you hear me?

And for the most part, you’re scared into submission. You very vividly remember him beating the living shit out of any guy who so much as looked at you before he stole you away, and because of this you’re more than aware of just how strong he is, at just how talented he is at throwing punches and drawing blood.

Life with Phinks is really just a balancing act in a lot of ways – he wants to please you and make you happy, so as long as you smile and hug him, whisper sweet nothings in his ear and try to not to make him angry at you in any way, you’ll be just fine.

That being said, there are moments when Phinks loses control, when he lets his anger cloud his mind and overwhelm him, his natural habits of lashing out coming to the surface.

Punching the wall is fine and it’s something that he does mostly when it’s small things you do that trigger his anger, like turning the stove on, hopping into the shower without telling him, flinch away slightly when he goes to peck your forehead. But when it’s larger offenses, things that you do that genuinely make him rage, Phinks has a tendency to get a bit more violent, a bit more mindless in his actions.

When he tentatively reaches a hand out to run his callused fingers over your hair, his breath hitches when you softly smile, telling him in a faraway, dreamy voice that you had a friend who used to play with my hair, it was always my favorite. They were really good at it, too.

His whole body is freezing before suddenly shaking, his breathing ragged as he realizes that you’ve just brought another person up, that you’re thinking of someone else while he tries to be loving and intimate with you, and before he knows it he’s on his feet, pushing you against the wall and slamming your back into the hard expanse.

You gasp sharply, staring up at him with wide, fearful eyes while he glares down at you, his teeth grinding together as the swirling pool of jealousy builds greater and greater in his chest, his gut twisting painfully when he realizes that he’s not he only one on your mind, like you are for him.

Don’t you ever talk about anyone else when you’re with me, do you understand? He growls out, hanging his head low so that you can’t see his eyes. You’re terrified, every inch of you trembling in fear as his grip grows tighter on your shoulders.

Answer me!

His voice is loud, curt and terrifying, and as you squeak out a timid y-yes! I understand Phinks, I’m sorry, I didn’t meant to make you jealous, she was just a friend – but before you can finish your rambling, frantic apology, a sudden sharp noise and an overwhelming stinging sensation against your cheek has you whimpering, pain flaring up and making your eyes well with tears.

Phinks is breathing hard, his eyes wild as he stares down at you, his hand still raised as if to slap you again, but when you quietly start crying, the pain mixed with the fear and hopelessness of the situation, suddenly Phinks is snapping out of his rage fueled daze, his heart stopping in his chest as he sees you cowering in front of him, cradling your cheek with tears streaming down your face, your body trembling while you beg him to not hurt you again.

And the guilt the hits Phinks square in the chest has him gasping, stumbling away from you and clutching onto his head, self hatred and regret making him shed a few tears of his own, realization that he just hurt you spinning through his mind.

And before you even get to a chance to say or do anything, suddenly he’s racing out the front door, the locks snapping into place as you slowly sink to your knees, sobbing and letting the emotions wash over you.

Meanwhile, Phinks is wandering aimlessly through the city, not hesitating to mercilessly snap the neck of anyone who dares approach him or try to talk to him, all the while he desperately tries to come up with a solution to make it up to you, to apologize for being such a monster. And, when he returns home a few hours later to find you curled up on your bed, a plush blanket thrown over your figure, he can only gulp and lightly knock against the door, watching as you stiffen up and say nothing.

He sighs, hanging his head and stepping inside the room, placing the bags in his hands onto the bed.

I’m sorry, he starts, discomfort and shame coursing through him. I shouldn’t have hit you, I shouldn’t have gotten mad at you, I shouldn’t have – look, I’m really sorry and I really, really regret it. You don’t have to forgive me, but I got some uh, some stuff while I was out… and as he gently motions the bags towards you, you slowly sight up, eyeing him wearily with puffy eyes as you paw at the bags.

You’re careful to open them, but when you see the packages of food, the jewelry case with a soft silver necklace sitting in it, you can’t help but feel a bit better, as materialistic as it is. And when you move to the next bag, you nearly cry – pictures and frames from your old home, little stuffed animals and knick knacks you’d cherished that were ripped away from you. your favorite books, a blanket, and countless other treasures that have you softly smiling, wiping at your eyes while Phinks watches with bated breath.

And when you finally look up at him, something in your chest feels warm, and immediately you know that you’re too far gone. Because when you look at Phinks, the man who stole you away, who keeps you locked up in his home, dependent on him and loses his anger when you talk about another soul, you only see an awkward, love struck man, who loves you more than life itself.

You know it’s Stockholm Syndrome at work, but as you softly whisper I forgive you, Phinks, you can’t find it in yourself to care. Not when the relief on his face is practically palpable, when he fiddles nervously with his fingers as you slowly get up and move to hug him. He gasps quietly, chocked by your affection, but quickly he’s clutching you against him, leaning down and breathing deeply next to your hair, letting your scent calm him as he basks in the feeling of holding you.

It’s wrong, but as time passes, you’ll slowly come to love Phinks – in a twisted, warped way, but isn’t all love just so wonderful?

OVERALL DANGER:

7/10

Phinks, despite being a violent, misguided man, is actually a rather tragic yandere – he’s so desperate for you to love him back, for you to hold even an ounce of the adoration and affection he feels for you, and he’s not at all subtle about it, no matter how he tries.

He wants to love you like a normal man, to give you a happy, loving life by his side, but he just can’t – his obsession is too strong, his possessiveness too overwhelming. He wants to keep you safe and happy, to keep you healthy and next to him, and he really does have good intentions for the most part – he’s awkward in love, nervous and anxious and wanting to constantly be around you.

He’s possessive to a fault, wanting to keep you utterly his and his alone, and in all honesty that’s what fuels the vast majority of his yandere tendencies – when he’s mercilessly attacking other men who might be construed as rivals for your love and affection, it’s the thought of keeping you by his side that’s guiding him.

When he’s gently knocking you out and slipping you into the new, queen sized mattress he’d stolen just for the two of you, it was all on the basis of making sure that you never stray from his side, that he can keep you close and safe and his for the rest of your lives.

He just wants you to love him back, and you honestly might – the desperation he feels for you is strong enough that you can almost physically feel it, the utter need and desire to just be loved by you pulling at your heartstrings and making you eventually decide that he isn’t too bad, that he could be much worse.

And really, Phinks will take anything he can get – he loves you, so much so that it physically hurts, and the second that you show him that the feeling is returned, he’s holding you in his arms, pressing you against him so tightly that you’ll never escape.

#yandere hxh #hxh x reader #yandere phinks magcub #_lee's profiles #_phinks magcub #_hxh

[timkontheunsure]

Theory about why might Blitz need to apologise to Stolas

Ok so Apologise Tour appears to be Blitz trying to make amends for his relationship mistakes.

But Stolas is pretty chilled guy, who we've only seen angery a handful of time.

And those have mostly been about his love ones being in trouble. IMP getting caught by the DHORKS, Striker threatening Via, and Blitz's incompetents helping Via run away.

So Blitz hasn't yet do much big to get Stolas mad at him.

He's gotten upset at the end of Ozzie's (which Stolas blames himself for), chosen to take his kid to a doctors appointment but sent M&M to help (Stolas is dad and would get it if Blitz talks to him), been bad at texts, and not visited in the hospital (it made Stolas cry, not cross).

We're not in the same league as accidental blow him up, or stole his credit cards, car and dumped him is what I'm saying.

But Blitz has a pattern of pushing people away when he feels vulnerable.

He's likely going going to be very upset if he thinks Stolas want to end what they have.

And Vassago wants to summon Stolas. What if he does while Stolas is trying to explain and gets Blitz too?

"How the FUCK... did you get caught by humans?! Are you little creatures not being careful up here?! You know, if you *boops Blitzo's nose* get in trouble, I get in trouble! WE don't want that!"

If Blitz yells about the grimoire deal in front of Vassago and Andrealphus it could blow up Stolas life.

This looks like a meeting most of the goeita are summoned too.

Next we have Blitz angrily yelling in a red room that:

"You fucks think you can do this every time. Like you can play with our feelings because we're smaller and not as important".

That doesn't sound like Stolas; but that does sound like the other goeitas.

Then we get this bit. Blitz reachs for Stolas in a red room with crowns inside shells wallpaper(1), and is shoved through a red edged portal(2) back to imp city(3). He looks distraught.

It's not Stolas' place or Stolas' portal. His are purple and his crown wallpaper is different, surrounded by the shape of his top hat's brim.

We know Andrealphus' want Stolas' job, title, home and assets. And doesn't mind Stolas dieing if he can stop Via inheriting.

This bit kept bugging me. Stolas is a powerful prince, why is Blitz defending him when he's not bound with blessid rope? And why is Andrealphus attacking Stolas' palace?

What if the "trouble" Stolas can get in for lending out the grimoire is his powers sealed till a trial , and his job temporarily filled by Andrealphus?

Putting both Stolas' and Via positions in jeopardy.

Via's only 17 and doesn't know how to do alot of what Stolas does yet, so wouldn't be able to fill in for her dad.

#helluva boss #blitzo x stolas #helluva theory #chekhov's gun

[f1-disaster-bi]

A small little fic for @f1-birb because her actual get well soon fic is gonna take some time ❤️

"So Daniel, are the rumours true?"

Daniel pulled a confused face. He blinked at the reporter that had stopped him in his way out of the paddock. He'd been lost in his own thoughts, excited to get back to the hotel and taking a long bubble bath with his husband. He wasn't expecting anyone to talk to him on his way out.

"Uh, what rumours?", Daniel asked, his still recovering hand cradled carefully against his stomach as he smiled at them.

"Well, both you and Norris haven't been wearing your wedding rings lately. He wasn't seen at the hospital eith you before or after surgery, so the rumour is that you have divorced quietly after realising your marriage was a mistake", the reporter grinned, a sleepy look in his eyes that made Daniel want to scowl but he didn't.

Instead he squared his shoulders, preparing for battle but before he could even open his mouth, Lando appeared beside him, wrapping an arm around his waist.

"We can't wear rings in the car, and after almost losing them, we've stared wearing them on chains", Lando smiled but it was all fire and protectivness in his eyes as he used his free hand to pull his chain freebof his shirt, displaying his ring, "There haven't been pictures of us because I have been focused on helping my husband recover instead of snapping pictures for the 'gram"

Daniel felt a tingle run down his spine.

He loved when Lando got like this. Everyone always expected to be able to bully or walk all over the younger man, they never expected him to be able to stand up against bullshit like this. They expected him to joke it off, but he didn't.

And Daniel loved that about him as he leaned down to kiss his cheek before beaming at the reporter.

"As you can see, we're still happily married and pissing off homophobes everywhere", Daniel laughed, tucking Lando into his side, "In fact, we adopted our daughter six months ago and couldn't be happier"

The reporter spluttered as Lando groaned. His husband buried his face in his hands as Daniel smiled, pulling out his phone to pull up a picture of their little girl to show the stunned reporter the proof.

"This is our little girl. Her name is Pit Stop, Pit for short", Daniel held up his phone, showing off a picture of Lando being booped on the noise by the sweetest looking little cream coloured Siamese kitten with grey around her ears and her blue eyes, "Isn't She the sweetest thing?"

The reporter was shocked into silence, looking between the two of them as Daniel showed a video of Pit playing with a little ball with a feather sticking out of it.

"Daniel, Daniel we discussed this. You can't keep telling people we have a kid", Lando burst out into laughter. The kind that made his cheeks pink and his whole body shake in a way Daniel found adorable.

"But she's our baby girl!", Daniel chuckled, waving at the speechless reporter as he tossed an arm around Lando's shoulders and started to guide him towards the drivers car park.

"You're unbelievable", Lando brushed away a few tears from his eyes as he shook his head.

"You say that as if you don't love me"

"No, I do. So fucking much, you weirdo"

"Cheers cunt, I guess you're alright too"

#secretly married #secretly married au #dando #daniel/lando #lando/daniel #pit stop norris ricciardo

[britcision]

Today’s is a little shorter but I think you’ll all forgive me as we dive into… The Inevitable Rogue Attack 😈

It fucking kills me how many people are almost sympathising with Vlad but want Bruce to catch fire, y’all are giving me life and don’t worry, Bruce will not be getting away with his crimes

First:

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Tag list: @welcometosasakiworld @kyrianclawraith @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikoyuii @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop @trickerdi @mayoota-blog @xysidhe @idkmrpianoman @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof @eonic @onyxlightdragon @larks-and-katydids @peachesandcreamfemboy @jesus-camp-the-sequel @may-rbi @arandomturd @viyatrix @stargirl1331

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The Inevitable Rogue Attack

His kids were rioting. There were giggles, muffled screams, Steph was drumming her hands on the table hard enough to shake the place settings.

And Jason… Jason.

Bruce wasn’t quite sure what to do as Jason made his way back down to his seat, passing behind all three Amity Parkers to get there.

He’d hoped… well. He hoped Jason had understood his meaning. He hadn’t expected the boy to blanche like that, and he’d worried for a second that he’d misjudged.

But no, the smile Jason gave him on the stage was real. Bruce knew every detail of his son’s face, had worked doubly hard to be able to read those expressions when Jason had come back unfamiliar and grown.

There was something he’d missed. Obviously.

But he didn’t know what. Didn’t know what he had expected Jason to do, now that it came down to it. Bruce hadn’t said what he did thinking about Jason’s response.

He didn’t need him to respond at all, he just… he wanted Jason to know he cared. To be sure that Bruce loved him. That Bruce wanted him back.

That he would never be sorry enough for how his mistakes had cost Jason everything. Surely promising that before so many witnesses, so many people would show he meant it?

They’d need to talk. They would always need to talk. And perhaps Jason would talk to Alfred too, and Bruce could ask what he’d done wrong.

He hadn’t expected Jason to fall sobbing into his arms. But the way he’d paled, Bruce’s stomach had dropped like a stone.

Was it really such a surprise to hear him say sorry? Such a shock? Had he failed that much?

Making his way back to his own table, he let his gaze drift from Jason and land on the Manson girl. He was a little surprised to find that she was staring straight back at him, despite the chaos at her table.

Shouldn’t she be focused on Jason? He had just rather publicly expressed his affections, even if he’d been circumspect.

Bruce would have thought she was watching him for his response to that, except that he’d seen Damian look at dogfight ring owners with a warmer expression.

Even as their eyes met, he saw her hand scrabbling side ways, snatching at cutlery and then Danny grabbed it and wrestled it back to the table.

She’d grabbed a knife. He’d have been satisfied in his assessments of her being correct, but who the fuck was Jason hanging out with?

He made it back to his seat, looked over, and she was still watching him. Narrow purple eyes tracking him like she was waiting to pounce.

He’d been stared at at every gala since he was a child.

He’d stared down villains planning to cube him with lasers, while tied to their tables.

Samantha Manson was activating his bat senses. No wonder Jason liked her so much.

Perhaps the Mansons hadn’t been exaggerating the situation… but that still left the question of Danny. The “very important” relationship that Jason claimed was helping the pit.

Danny was supposedly here as Sam’s date too. Could it be an open relationship? Or had Sam and Jason not yet realised he was involved with them both?

Selina’s intel suggested the former, but Bruce would have to observe them more closely to determine which it was. And then there was Tucker Foley…

Tucker had been spending more time with Tim than the other three. Bruce would be relying on him for a debrief later, and his impressions of Masters.

The rest of his children had clearly met Danny as well, and he wished he could have taken at least one of them aside for a report before dinner.

As it was, he likely wouldn’t be able to talk to them until they got home. Perhaps Damian might be persuaded to take a brief break from the rest of the room…

Though his youngest did hate to miss the action. Especially if he perceived something important to be going on, and from the set of his shoulders, he did.

His tension did absolutely nothing to soothe Bruce’s own worries. Nor did reminding himself that Damian may be upset by almost anything.

Damian may still struggle socially, but he was perceptive and excellent at threat assessing. If he was tense, there was a reason.

He was so focused on his childrens’ table that he didn’t even notice Selina on her phone beside him.

**

Jason slipped back into his seat, feeling much better than he had leaving it. Who knew that getting a little fuckery in would settle him so much?

Well, anyone who’d met him. But other than that.

Dick leaned in before his ass hit the chair, both arms outstretched as if to cradle Jason in them.

“You fucking madlad,” he gasped, eyes bright with laughter and Jason rolled his eyes, grinning even as he slapped Dick’s hands away.

“What, it’s not like you’ve not done worse,” he said off handedly, settling himself in.

Steph was still drumming on the table, finishing up an epic solo by snatching up her knife and tinging it off her glass.

“And that’s the new high to beat on Bruce’s blood pressure chart, ladies and gentlemen, likely possible only through grand larceny!” She declared emphatically, tossing her knife back down.

And apparently inspiring Sam, whose eyes narrowed, still tracking Bruce as she grabbed at the table beside her. Danny, already on guard, leaned away a little.

“Sam, what are you… no Sam no!” He snatched at her arm just as she grabbed his steak knife, pulling it back to the table.

Steph’s brows rose, Dick leaned back a little, and Jason couldn’t stop himself from laughing.

“You can’t stab a man at a gala, Damian’s already tried,” Tim put in with a slightly nervous chuckle.

They all seemed to think she’d go for it. Jason, only knowing her slightly longer, was completely sure she’d go for it.

He let his hand fall to cover hers and Danny’s too, squeezing softly. He kinda appreciated having a friend who’d kill for him.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the offer, but if Bruce dies tonight Tim inherits a lot more paperwork and he already doesn’t sleep,” he said casually, and Sam’s gaze snapped back to him.

Her eyes narrowed further for a moment and then she huffed, dropping the knife and sinking back in her seat. And still glaring at Bruce over at his table.

“It doesn’t have to be a lethal stabbing,” she pointed out coolly, glaring at her own utensils. Vegetarian options did not usually require steak knives.

A happy coincidence that it kept the sharp knives away from Damian too, really. He had switched from glaring at Danny to glaring at Sam assessingly.

Whatever conclusions he drew, they didn’t come before the waiters arrived, hot food still under cloches.

The table fell quiet for a moment as plates were handed out, and then food inspected. The dining room filled with the clink of cutlery and muted conversation.

Jason’s little stunt was definitely still causing ripples, and he felt a definite self satisfaction grow through him. Fuck Bruce and his surprises.

It was Tucker who brought the conversation back, clearing his throat while the others focused on food.

“So, Sam… on a scale from 0 to public proposals, where does Jason’s little kiss stand?” He asked slyly, waggling his eyebrows from his spot a whole Danny away.

Sam’s glare indicated that might not be far enough. Then she snickered and returned to her plate.

“Zero. We planned to fuck with their heads and we both know what it means, right Jason?” She asked, cocking a brow at the taller man.

Jason shrugged cheerfully, enjoying the way every siblings’ eyes narrowed at her lack of specificity. They weren’t off the fuckery list yet, knowing about Val or not.

“Exactly. Glad you agree though, I wasn’t sure if I should apologise. We didn’t exactly talk about that,” he added when she made a small questioning noise.

Sam shrugged, waving her decidedly blunt knife with mild disdain.

“You’re good. We’re on the same page, I don’t give a shit what anyone here thinks, and it’s gonna make the big explosion all the better.” She sounded distinctly satisfied with this turn of events, so Tucker raised his hands, surrendering.

Dick chuckled softly, shaking his head and digging into his food.

“Not to defend Bruce, but I don’t think he’s emotionally intelligent enough to try and corner Jason into a response,” he pointed out cheerfully and Jason snorted a laugh.

Which became a full laugh when Sam didn’t even glance over.

“Cop opinion, nobody asked.”

Dick pouted and Steph laughed at him, leaning in to continue either the conversation or the bullying. Jason wasn’t quite sure which, because Cass captured his attention with a gentle hand on his arm.

Glancing her way, she gave him a soft smile and signed,

‘Are you okay?’

And yeah. Without the pit’s biting green haze, Jason was a massive fucking sap, apparently. Or Bruce had shaken him more than he thought.

He managed a smile that wasn’t too shaky, signing quickly back.

‘I’m good.’ Not that he need bother, since Cass looked entirely unconvinced.

She didn’t call him on it though, slipping her hand into his and squeezing gently. And that was one of his favourite things about Cass.

Like most of the bats, she never really talked about shit, but in her case? It was often because she didn’t need to. She understood without needing him to find the right words.

Maybe that was why the whole ghost-emotional-language thing wasn’t freaking him out the way it probably should.

Maybe Cass was also part ghost. She’d died before.

And that was something he’d have to ask Danny about. He’d mentioned a “ghost sense” that he and Vlad could use to find each other.

Jason’s almost certainly wasn’t fully developed, just like his core, because to hear Danny tell it he could detect any ghost within a city block. Sometimes further.

Jason’d felt Vlad’s proximity like a chill down his spine right before he walked up so there was definitely something there. Hopefully it’d get stronger with time.

He’d rather have some actual warning before a threat got close, although now that he thought about it…

It had taken until tonight for Jason to really understand that the sense of peace which had washed over him at the graveyard and the coffee shop had been directly caused by Danny’s presence.

That had come long before Danny had been in eyeshot, both times. Maybe tonight Danny’s presence had overwhelmed him, masking Vlad until it was too late?

Or Danny’s was just that much bigger. Either way, Jason wasn’t fully sure it was the same sensation. Part of the same sense.

Vlad’s presence was an icy oil sliming down his back, but Danny’s was all warmth and peace. Could that make sense for a guy with an ice core? Or was there something else?

Part of it was the way the pit quieted, there was still an almost euphoric bliss that came with the lack of bubbling rage. In not being constantly at war inside his head.

Being able to fucking hear himself think. Fuck, the fact that it still felt like a luxury was damn depressing. The idea that one day it might be his normal again…

But it hadn’t been long enough since he’d seen Danny to just be that tonight. The pit had been building, but he’d spent the afternoon hanging out with Frostbite’s plant.

It had been ignorable. As normal as he’d been in the last year. And he’d still felt that warm rush as Danny came down the stairs. The second he saw him things fell into place.

That was probably the ghost sense. And maybe a bit of what Clockwork had told him about being the Fright Knight.

The ghost had said he’d always know if Danny was in danger, so it made sense that being able to see Danny and know he wasn’t in danger would feel good. He was doing his duty.

Definitely all that was.

By the time he’d tuned back into the main conversation, they’d moved back to the inevitable rogue attack. Currently? Betting on who it’d be.

“I could go for a Riddler attack,” Steph mused, waving a forkful of potatoes vaguely. “At least he’d know some riddles to keep us busy til the bats arrive.”

“Yeah, cause he totally cares about entertaining his hostages,” Tim snickered and shook his head. “Riddler’s on the run. Red Robin and Nightwing caught him shipping something explosive into the city. WE did the tech analysis,” he added for their guests.

None of whom looked surprised, which was interesting. Tucker seemed interested, but not concerned.

“Oh, did you get to have a look? I’m not much of a hardware guy beyond this beauty,” he said with a loving look to his PDA, then back to Tim.

Who shrugged.

“Personally? No, but I okayed the lab time and bumped them on the priority list. Some of them were a little close to one of our offices.”

“Risks of working in Gotham,” Dick agreed with a sigh, and this time he even filled in the next part himself, “despite if not because of the presence of the police.” He raised his glass to the table.

Steph and Cass cheered, Cass silently, and even Sam snickered. Cass took the next step though, shifting a little back up the curve of the table so they could all see her hands again.

‘Have not seen Poison Ivy in a while. Never met her.’

Sam sighed at that, raising her glass with a dry smile.

“And you won’t, at least tonight. If there was even a small chance she’d be in Gotham, I wouldn’t be,” she added to the Wayne brood, all of whom looked curious.

Jason could guess.

“Are your folks particularly worried about her?” Dick asked, glancing around for the older Mansons. Sam snorted a laugh but let Danny answer.

“Worried that given half a chance Sam will run away and join her. They’re both what you’d call “aggressive environmentalists”,” he added with air quotes.

Tim cocked a brow, grinning.

“That’s a funny way of spelling “ecoterrorists”,” he pointed out lightly, leaning in. “So how do they know she won’t come? She was in Gotham last I heard.”

Sam hesitated for a moment, glancing around as if checking for eavesdroppers. None too close to their table; Jason had made it a condition that they not be near enough to talk to any others.

Then she leaned in, the entire table following suit. Danny and Tucker seemed equally curious, which was interesting.

“I’m not supposed to know this, and you can’t tell anyone, alright?” She hissed, and the Gothamites nodded along like each and every one of them weren’t about to run the Mansons down for supervillain connections.

Jason tried not to smirk.

Sam met each of their eyes, then continued, her voice low.

“So Tuck, Danny and I knew Vlad was coming to Gotham. I ran an Ivy check to see if my parents would let me come too, so we could keep an eye on him. And my grandma caught me.”

Tucker and Danny leaned back like this explained everything, eyes wide. Steph leaned in further, half out of her chair.

“What did she do?” She whispered.

Sam grinned.

“She recognised her. She was an activist herself when she was younger, really big on the environmental scene…”

“Ida Manson?” Damian asked sharply, head snapping up. Of course he’d know the most about the old environmentalist circles.

Sam looked mildly surprised but nodded.

“That’s her. She was an “anonymous donor” to Ivy a couple different times and obviously she knows about my parents. So she sent her two hundred grand and schematics to a construction company’s HQ that are bulldozing the Amazon.”

“Are your family all connected to supervillains?” Tim asked, fighting a smile. Sam cocked a brow at him.

“Other than being millionaires? Not really beyond voting for Vlad. Mom and Dad are big in the whole “respectability” thing, they wanna keep the family name as clean as possible.”

“And they don’t get much chance in Amity Park,” Tucker added with a snicker, “our villains aren’t really the kind you can buy.”

Sam hummed an affirmation and Danny made a face. He didn’t want anyone looking too closely into what had happened in Amity Park, but Jason figured it was inevitable.

About time Batman found out what he’d been missing.

All of his siblings looked thoroughly confused now, but Dick voiced the question.

“You guys have villains in Amity Park? More than just Vlad?” He asked carefully, sounding every inch the concerned civilian.

Sam rolled her eyes and laughed, setting down her cutlery.

“Not anymore,” she said dryly, reaching for her drink and raising it in a mock toast. Tucker and Danny copied, clinking their glasses together.

This did not illuminate the others. Or Jason, honestly. He’d seen the database, knew the basics, and knew that with Danny as the next Ghost King, his rogues were out of the picture.

He’d figured out that those dud calls from Amity Park? Never actually duds.

Danny had never asked if he knew about any of them as Robin, from that overlapping year between their deaths. Jason still wasn’t sure what to say if it came up again.

He took part in a confused look exchange with Tim, Dick, and Steph, shrugging to indicate that this really wasn’t something he was already in on. Half true.

Damian broke the short silence this time, glowering at all three.

“What villains are you speaking of? And what happened to them?” He asked curtly, his tone easily carrying his disbelief.

Jason’s eyes moved automatically to Sam, but it was Tucker who fielded this one with a casual shrug.

“Ghosts. We got a portal to the Ghost Zone, lot of ghosts decided they wanted to try and take down the town, and one became our local hero to stop the rest,” he explained like he was talking about mildly unseasonal weather.

Tim suddenly looked much less enamoured with his new bestie. Much more wary and confused.

“You… you’re kidding, right?” He asked half hopefully, and yeah, that woulda been Jason’s response a week ago too.

Today, he snickered and waved a two finger salute at his brother.

“Bud. Sat at a table with a literal zombie,” he added when Tim’s head snapped around. “This is so far from the weirdest shit you’ve heard.”

Tim coloured and huffed, puffing up in his seat.

“Yeah, but seriously Jason? Ghosts? Trying to take over an entire town? Someone must have heard something!”

“We sure tried telling them,” Danny agreed cheerfully, clearing his plate with untroubled enthusiasm. “The town got sucked fully into the Ghost Zone once, we only survived because my family made ghost shields.”

It wasn’t just Tim now, half the table looked utterly poleaxed. The only bat not blankly gaping was Cass, when Jason glanced back at her. And slowly, so did the others.

Cass was watching Danny thoughtfully, brows furrowed just the tiniest bit. Then she gave a small nod.

‘Truth,’ she agreed, and Tim exploded.

“What? No way! A whole American city can’t just pop off the map and not be noticed! Someone would have to know?” He sputtered.

Tucker gave him a sympathetic pat on the hand.

“Hey, don’t feel bad. The federal government invented a whole new department just to keep news from getting out. They’re pretty good too,” he added with a grimace.

Tim gaped at him. Dick, suddenly all business, leaned in with a frown.

“A secret government department dedicated to hiding ghosts?” He asked, and yeah, Jason remembered this from the database.

Seemed that with Cass’s clear, Dick was gonna take this seriously. That was… a little refreshing.

Sam gave him a scathing once over, but clearly decided that bullying hours were on hold.

“They’re technically called the Ghost Investigation Ward. Don’t google it or some extremely unpleasant men in white suits will come along to ask why.”

“If we can’t google it, how do we know you’re telling the truth?” Steph asked, her demeanour equally serious.

The three Amity Parkers exchanged thoughtful looks, then Tucker shrugged and scooted his PDA down the table.

“You can look it up on mine. I’ve cracked their systems before, they can’t backhack me,” he explained when Tim nearly jumped on the device.

A small smile broke through Dick’s serious face as Tim got to work, Steph leaning in.

“Seriously, I know I’m only a cop in Bludhaven, but you guys really like admitting to federal crimes,” he said lightly, driving a steep wedge into the rising tension.

Jason snickered along with Danny and Tucker, nodding to Tim.

“You say, like Tim isn’t probably committing the actual same crime two seats down,” he remarked and Dick actually grinned, waggling his eyebrows.

“Hey, if he wants to borrow my handcuffs he can just ask, but the work ones aren’t for fun stuff.”

Tim flipped him off without looking as Tucker choked, suddenly very interested in his mostly empty plate. Then Tim looked up, expression grave.

“He’s not kidding. They’re syphoning a ton of federal funding, most of it into Amity Park,” he declared and Tucker leaned in to swipe at the screen.

“Non-Amity Park IPs can’t access any of our weather or news stations either,” he explained casually, like they weren’t uncovering a major scandal.

But then, Jason reminded himself, no one had done anything about this for around six years. Why would that change now?

Steph snagged the PDA this time, scrolling down a couple times then stopping to frown at Danny.

“Why does the weather station have something called Fenton Watch?” She asked and Danny groaned, cheeks flushing.

“Thaaaaat reports if my parents are gonna be on the roads… their bad driving is kinda legendary?” He offered sheepishly as Tucker snickered.

“It’s for the definitely-not-street-legal tank I told you about,” he added for Tim alone.

Before any of the others could jump on that juicy sentence a slender hand landed on Jason’s shoulder.

“Well don’t you all seem to be having fun?” Selina purred, smiling down at the table before leaning in. “I just thought I’d drop by and let you know, darling, I’ve already texted Aunt Harley about Bruce’s little stunt.”

She dropped a gentle kiss on the top of Jason’s head, which was fucking weird but… in a good way, patted his shoulder and moved on.

How the fuck had the pit ever convinced Jason that no one cared about him? Although to be fair, there had been a lot less open affection when people still thought he’d shoot them.

It was just a revelation every time, finally getting to look at these litte gestures, these people as just himself. Less bitter, less angry, less certain it was a lie or a trap.

Part of him didn’t want to lose the way it sent soft curls of affection through all the places anger used to burn. Didn’t want to take any of this for granted.

It had been so, so long since he’d felt like he was actually loved. Before his death even. Fuck, it was something he hadn’t had for most of his life.

It was completely different from just knowing.

He’d known Alfred loved him. Known Dick cared, the way he’d thrown himself headlong into bringing Jason home, no matter how many times he nearly got shot.

Knew Cass and Duke both cared without even the shadow of his death between them. But actually feeling it, warm and golden in his chest?

He hadn’t made it easy for any of them. Had fought against even wanting it for so long, sure he didn’t deserve it. Sure he couldn’t have it, so wanting it would only break him.

But here it was. Even Selina standing up to fight his corner, by using Harley as a weapon if needed.

Harley was probably banned by the Geneva Convention so he wouldn’t hold it against her to keep her own claws clean.

He just. His family cared. Even if all that was hurt was his feelings. That was enough for them to even go against Bruce.

(And fuck he knew how stupid that thought was, each new generation of Robins seemed more likely than the last to call B on his shit.

Damian might be slightly less likely than Steph to say the words “go fuck yourself” but he got the sentiment across.

Jason had called B to task plenty of times when he was being an ass to one of them. It just hit different when it was the other way round.)

Dick and Steph were back on their gleeful bullshit, grinning broadly at Jason even as he had his little moment. He wasn’t even gonna look at the rest of the table.

“Someone’s in trouble,” Steph sang happily, dancing in her seat and beaming across the hall at Bruce.

Sam frowned and looked around the table, the full complement of Waynes all grinning broadly bar one. Damian still mostly looked annoyed by the whole affair.

Which was basically how he smiled anyway.

“Wait, did she just say Harley? Like Harley Quinn?” She asked and yeah, oops, they did have a lot to catch each other up on.

Not today though.

“Pretty sure she’s Harley like the motorcycle,” Tim explained off handedly, shooting his own grin in Bruce’s direction, “you’re never allowed to tell her I said it but she’s a little too old to be called Harley like Harley Quinn.”

Didn’t exactly answer the question, but sounded enough like an answer that it seemed to pass. Jason was a little impressed.

“The effect will be about the same though,” Dick added with a snicker, arm cocked on the back of his chair to grin across at Bruce.

Fuck, had the old man been staring at them this whole time? Delightful. Jason very deliberately Did Not look over, finishing his own meal.

**

The rest of dinner was more reserved, the bats taking Selina’s intervention as a sign to let the heavy stuff drop. Might as well wait until they could do some more research.

The Amity Parkers followed suit and Cass settled, enjoying the time with her family. Teasing Dick, laughing with Steph, and Jason.

She could still see the tension in him, the same as Jason had always had, for as long as she’d known him. Could almost feel the pieces of him that twanged with every move.

She had never seen him seem so… free. He’d been getting better, letting her and Duke and Steph persuade them he was still family. That he was wanted.

It had made parts of the tension worse, and he’d carried himself every day with the fear that he’d hurt them. That they’d change their minds.

She still felt the same fear, sometimes. Knew there was nothing to be done for it but wait for him to come back, hold him close, and not let him push her away.

Because Jason could hurt them. Any of the bats could do serious damage, but most of them not by accident.

Jason lived every day with a weight around his neck, chained to the knowledge that all it’d take was one surge of the pit.

One break in his control and he might hurt one of them in ways nobody could fix.

Cass couldn’t imagine living with that kind of weight. She’d known she was a weapon, raised and trained to violence so she could be pointed and released.

Her father had never understood that she was still the one in control, not him. That she’d obeyed because she chose to, because she loved him, because she craved affection.

That she could walk away as easily as she had, find another family who would love her, and understand that there were… gaps inside her.

Places where she still didn’t know what fit. What to do, what to say when things were hard and her throat got tight. What to do when she messed up and hurt someone.

But at least she knew it would only be her words. Her actions. The hurt she made might be deeper for it and she was still so scared it might one day be too much, but…

She’d never see their blood on her hands.

Jason still did, sometimes. She’d see it when he looked at Tim and his throat closed up. When he stopped breathing for way too long.

When they’d all be teasing him, watching closely, weighing the green in his eyes, and he’d go to snap back at Tim and bite his tongue so hard it bled.

Cass hadn’t been there. Hadn’t seen how bad it had gotten, when Jason first came back. And maybe that was a blessing because she couldn’t have fought him.

Seeing the pain that still wound through him was enough to choke her. Seeing it then, when Bruce refused to believe it was him, Tim’s throat in his hand?

When the pit had his ear, all rage and hate and betrayal?

Her family had nearly broken before she got back. There had nearly been nothing for her to return to.

Instead, she’d come back to a stalemate. Jason’s rage tempered, forced solely onto Bruce while he fought himself to keep the rest of them out of it.

To a new brother, if one who demanded they stay out of his side of the city, who’d fire a shot if they broke his rules.

And maybe it was the same fear, that looming dread that one day she’d hurt them too that had pulled her to him. To reassure herself that even with all he’d done, Jason was still there.

To reassure Jason that there was nothing he could do to lose his family. If they could accept her, gaps and all, they would find space for him.

Maybe it was their shared time with the league, finally free enough to exchange what words they had.

Cass could read anyone. Oh, it wasn’t a science; body language was an art, every subtle twitch and motion possibly meaning a million things, different to each individual.

It took a little time to work out anything beyond the broad strokes, to observe and understand what each person meant by the smaller gestures.

Pain was easy. Physical or emotional, it did a couple things every time. Tension, aggression, training. The things she’d needed when violence was her only language.

Happiness was harder. Worry, stress, the things behind those were still tricky for her to nose out, but she was learning when to push and when not to.

She didn’t always know why, but that was what her words were for.

Jason hadn’t taken any time at all. He’d been as trained by Bruce as any of them, gone through all the rigorous exercises to control himself, hide any traces of emotion if needed.

Cass could never fully put her finger on why it just… didn’t work. Jason could do a poker face better than anyone she knew. Could lock every muscle, go still as stone.

He’d never have survived the league if he couldn’t. And yet she’d just look at him even when the pit wasn’t in control, when rage hadn’t stripped him back to nothing at all, and it was just…

Written all over him. Every worry, every stress, every half smothered moment of hope. She’d taken one look at him in the league and Known him.

It felt like he knew her too, in ways that no one but Damian got close to. Knew the weight of her past, the weight of her mistakes, and how much it burdened her.

He’d come back on the 25th changed, happy in a gentle way, the barest lines of pit rage left. And then the day after Danger Twink there he was again; moving light as air with that choking tension gone.

The longer she saw him with Danny, the more certain she was.

Jason had never been in less danger in his life. Danny had that same air of death, but he was also more alive than anyone she’d ever seen.

And he’d give his right arm if it kept the people around him safe.

It was kind of funny, really. Just like Jason, Danny was surprisingly easy to read.

Oh, young people tended to telegraph more, their emotions writ loud, and she had a good read on Sam and Tucker already. But just like Jason, there was no element of guesswork with Danny.

She didn’t have to wait and keep watching or check her results. It was just… obvious. Heart on his sleeve, even when they talked about the dangers of home.

She could almost feel his curiosity lapping at the edge of her awareness as desserts were brought out, even without looking at him.

She kept to the curved end of the table though, so the rest of them could see her more easily. It still felt… strange doing that. Making herself noticeable.

Even as she’d gotten used to talking, with her hands or with her mouth, she still had trouble with the idea of standing out. Making herself noticeable.

And of course at galas, she usually didn’t even let on she could sign. It was possible that game was up, but anyone else who knew sign was probably less likely to be an ass about her needing it.

But her family wanted to know what she had to say. Valued her input, even for unimportant things. And if Jason had to practice letting them love him, she had to practice letting them hear her.

Metaphorically, sometimes. They didn’t seem to mind.

And she was having more fun than she’d expected tonight. She enjoyed recon, gathering information, but she was enjoying just talking to Sam and Danny too.

They fit with Tucker the way Tim fit with his Young Justice friends. Confident, sure of themselves and their connection.

She’d like to see them in action, although probably not tonight. Not everyone brought their heroing gear to fancy parties. Although most people did in Gotham.

Tonight’s event had been quiet so far if Vlad didn’t count.

It wasn’t destined to last.

The dining hall had mostly emptied out, the party moving back into the main hallways when a dozen windows shattered.

Guests didn’t so much scream as gasp in surprise, although one young woman sounded distinctly angry as a spray of glass splashed into her new drink.

Cass still wasn’t sure she approved of the hall’s sugar-glass as opposed to bulletproof strategy, but she could appreciate the effect.

Just like the movies, the crash and scatter were very impressive, with very little chance of actually hurting anyone.

Personally Cass thought a few more rogues could do with slamming face first into bulletproof glass.

It might not deter the attacks, but it’d either dampen the enthusiasm or bring out the bazookas. Either way, heavier weapons came off the streets.

She was a little surprised to see Killer Croc bursting through the large double doors though. Not quite enough to pause on her way to a dark corner, but she noted it.

He usually preferred to stick to overt mobsters rather than dirty his teeth on Gotham’s elite. Luckily, he wasn’t the type to leave anyone guessing.

“Where the fuck is Harvey Dent?” He roared, grabbing an attendant by the throat and lifting him off the ground.

Cass’s eyes scanned the room, taking in the number of assailants, the question marks on their suits. Riddler must not have been as down as Tim assumed, and that could be bad news.

On the other hand, if Riddler was here they’d know by now.

She’d lost most of the others when the crowd surged together, contracting, and finally reached up to push a comm into her ear. Heard Sam yell in the background.

“CASS!”

And felt her chest compress for just a moment.

She’d seen Sam Manson at galas before, two or maybe even three times. She’d always seemed annoyed, resentful, angry underneath that pretty smile.

They’d exchanged nods. Waves. Nothing that should have Sam screaming for her when trouble finally broke.

Then there were other screams, and Cass has to fight a smile. No, Sam wasn’t scared for her. Sam sounded absolutely fucking furious.

Her parents must have been right to worry too, because from the sound of it she’d taken it out on whichever unfortunate body Cass had used to slip away.

She’d have felt bad if she was less certain Sam would have loved to deck anyone at the gala anyway. It was a little sweet that she’d been clocked as a civilian.

Someone to protect. That might be nice one day.

Sam was still swearing to beat the band, audible even as the goons tried to gather the fragmenting crowd together.

Cass skidded under a refreshment table, comm in her ear coming to life.

“Report.” Bruce. Not doing the Batvoice, so somewhere in the pile. Possibly intentionally, if Croc was after Dent.

“Out,” she hissed, sticking to the edges of the room as she let her suit blend her into the shadows. Much easier than dresses, whatever Steph said.

“Out,” came Tim’s voice, sounding a little rushed. Sloppy.

“Out,” Steph called, and Cass was a little surprised at that. The other girl had been close to their civilians too, and she hadn’t thought they’d both make it undetected.

“In,” Dick whispered, voice barely audible. But Cass could hear Sam still yelling when his comm picked up, “With Manson, lost Hood.”

So. Not as undetected as all that.

“Out,” Damian huffed, sounding thoroughly annoyed with all of them. More so a moment later when Cass slipped into the same shadow. “Amateurs.”

Jason just grunted, obviously not in a position to subvocalise. Obviously still in.

A bare second for analysis, then-

“Nightwing. Leave your civilian with Hood and extract. Hood, remain engaged. Eyes on Jason Todd-Wayne.”

Which, to a listening stranger, would sound like a protection order instead of what it was; a reminder that Jason in particular was being watched.

Jason couldn’t have put a more articulate “fuck you” into the words themselves as he grunted again, still deep in the crowd.

Poor Jason. He always hated being the one to be rescued.

Too bad for him Cass quite liked the chance to do it. Red Hood was just so big and tanky, everyone expected him to come charging to the rescue.

Swooping in to save his day was extra fun because of that. He couldn’t even hide his pout behind his helmet in civilian clothes.

Cass and Damian made their way to the back rooms, dodging goons who must have come in through the windows here.

They were still sweeping the halls, grabbing any guests who’d managed to get out of the main halls and muscling them back in.

It was easy for the bats to duck into one of the cleared rooms. Both shucked their suits to reveal their night gear, Damian pulling his cape and domino from a concealed wall safe.

Cass just needed her mask, which fit inside her Black Bat suit pocket beneath the main suit. She wasn’t surprised Damian had been layering too.

Most of the bats did, or at least kept a domino on them for plausible deniability. After all, it wasn’t called the surprising or unexpected rogue attack.

Both now fully suited up, Cass and Damian exchanged looks.

‘Ready?’ Cass asked, and Damian tutted.

“Fenton is a meta,” he reaffirmed, eyes narrowing behind him domino. Cass ruffled his hair and headed for the door.

“Agree,” she reassured him softly, and felt him startle. Poor kid. Damian had plenty of his own issues around being heard. Belonging. “Best not out.”

His brows furrowed and he rolled his arms, but followed.

“Todd needs to know what he’s dealing with,” he grumbled as they listened at the door.

Cass kinda wished she’d left a mouth on her mask, but the reasons not to had outweighed letting the others see her smile. They could usually tell anyway.

“Disappeared together,” she reminded Damian softly instead, attention now split to the hall outside. Things were quieting down.

Damian’s pout grew more pronounced, then he shook himself and refocused.

“Perhaps we will see what he is made of now,” he mused under his breath.

Cass considered reminding him that it might not be safe for Danny to use whatever meta abilities he had, but decided not to. After all, her family more than proved that there were people out there who didn’t much care for “safe”.

It was also their job to make sure no one else had to put themselves in harm’s way. Even if they were curious.

Pushing out into the hall, she and Robin took the high road.

**

Still buried in the middle of the crowd, Dick kept a hand on Sam’s shoulder as they were buffeted around. Keeping them together, as close as they could.

He might have worried about doing it except that she, clearly also used to rogue attacks and crowd control, had wrapped his tie around her fist like she had him on a leash.

Yeah, he kinda fucking loved Sam Manson. Perfect little sister vibes.

He’d managed to get his earpiece in undetected, taking advantage of her telling off some unfortunate soul who’d cut between her and Cass.

They were all being herded towards the dining hall again now, surrounded by a circle of goons and prodded as Croc’s yells directed them.

“Everybody shut the fuck up and stick together! We’ll be out of your hair just as soon as we have all your valuables and that little fucker Dent!”

Dick was pretty damn sure he saw the same lady who’d been talking to them when Vlad showed up slip earrings, bracelet, and her fucking phone into that silly fan.

Apparently it wasn’t just a weirdly anachronistic accessory. Good for her.

Through the doors he could see the henchmen beginning to split the crowd into smaller groups, grabbing and pushing and fuck, he’d have to drop Sam off before reaching that.

Luckily he was pretty sure he could already see Jason, and he leaned into Sam’s ear.

“Look, I’ll be able to look for Cass better on my own, they’re splitting us up and I don’t want her on her own. Can I drop you with Jason and the guys? So I can tell Cass you’re okay,” he added quickly when her head snapped round, eyes narrowed.

She studied his expression for a moment then snorted, digging into a very well concealed pocket in her skirt and pulling out what looked a lot like a tiny taser.

He was gonna get Steph the name of her dressmaker. If they didn’t already use the same one.

“Whatever. This’ll help you get through the crowds, I can get to the guys,” she grumbled back, not quite shouting over the noise of the crowd.

Dick gave her his best apologetic grin, and took the taser to see what it’d do. Always nice to see a new toy.

“Cass’ll have my ass if she even thinks I left you with some of these creeps so unless you have-” before he could finish the sentence Sam had already pulled out a second, larger taser.

She gave him the baby one.

Stifling a laugh, he checked on Jason’s position again, noted the three people between them, and gave Sam a gentle nudge in the right direction.

“Alright, alright, you’re clearly more prepared than me, but we’re nearly there so jet.”

Sam gave him a sarcastic half smile, the man behind her jumped about a foot in the air, and Dick flicked his comm.

“Hood, confirm receipt,” he hissed, sticking close until he got another confirming grunt from Jason.

Then he made his way to the edge of the crowd, tucking his shoulders in to shrink his silhouette. A guy couldn’t hang out with Superman and Clark Kent without learning a few things.

It was a little closer than he’d have liked, but he managed to duck into a shadow just before crossing through the dining room doors.

A pair of goons hurried to close the party inside and he hurried to find a good spot to change. And a thought struck him.

“Hey, anyone think it’s too late to page in Signal?”

A series of muffled giggles and gasps came back, mostly muted, and Bruce sighed heavily.

“Fine. Going dark, coordinate yourselves around Red Robin.”

Someone must have decided to fish Bruce Wayne out of the crowd. Hoping Jason wasn’t too close, Dick pulled out his phone and a domino from separate pockets.

Duke might get to meet Danny in person after all. It was only 8pm.

Oh, and there was one more thing.

“Manson gave me a new taser.”

Jealous grumbles filled the air and Dick grinned as he stashed his jacket and tie.

“She also kept a bigger one for herself. We’ve got some spicy civilians today,” he commented cheerfully, testing the weight of the new taser as he moved to the windows.

Very nice, small and sleek and light, in a white and green scifi design. Just the thing some rich society types might give their little girl to keep her safe in Gotham.

Maybe he’d even get a chance to use it; escrima sticks did not fit well under tight trousers. Oh, there was a pair hidden, but where was the fun in that?

And maybe if he was extra lucky, Sam’d let him take a look at the bigger one after the fun was over. Preferably not on the receiving end.

**

Gotham was… confusing. Vlad didn’t know what to make of it.

These people were so damn scandalised by him putting a gentle hand on a young adult, yet armed goons and some form of crocodile man were apparently completely normal.

Oh, there was the odd cry, the occasional scream as a couple of hundred members of Gotham’s high society were pushed around, but from the quiet chatter surrounding him, this sort of nonsense was expected.

Amity Parkers reacted more than this to ghost attacks, and no one was ever seriously hurt during those. Not a lot more, obviously, but still.

He was almost becoming annoyed.

If he didn’t have his ghost sense he might have thought this “Killer Croc” was a ghost of some kind. He had that love of drama, the need for noise and attention.

It made Vlad think of Skulker really. Still, it was almost nice to know that the living could be just as dramatic. Ghosts had to come from somewhere after all.

Vlad could tolerate a little drama in other people, but he certainly had no time for it himself.

None at all.

Nope.

Still, there was something decidedly amusing about the whole situation. With the barest fraction of his powers he could likely deal with the whole crew.

Hells, they were few enough it’d hardly been a strain to overshadow every single one of the three dozen or so goons.

But that wouldn’t be fun now would it?

From what his neighbours were saying, though still none directly to him, the end result of these little messes was as predictable as the event itself.

Gotham had so many masked vigilantes at least one or two were sure to be close, and then the evening could continue. Perhaps a pause to redistribute valuables.

Personally, Vlad would prefer Gotham’s vigilantes take their time to show up. He’d been on the receiving end of Daniel’s heroic tendencies plenty of times.

It would be quite entertaining to be the one being saved. They’d all been separated into groups of fifteen, each with their own goon minder holding out what Vlad was sure was a fucking pillowcase for valuables.

A pillowcase. It didn’t even have handles. Yes, definitely better treat this as an amusing diversion because otherwise he’d have to be insulted.

Still, Vlad was content for now to sit on the floor, eyes scanning the room mostly patiently for his little badger.

That green scaly gentleman was stalking between the clusters of guests, ranting and raving about this “Dent” he was looking for.

Vlad doubted he’d get results, but perhaps once this whole mess was tidied up he would look into acquiring his services. Depending on how well he did when things got… messy.

He wasn’t paying him much mind at the moment though, because he’d just caught sight of a familiar flash of white hair.

Just Jason. No Phantom yet, but that was fine. And what a fun potential opportunity to see what their new halfa was like under pressure…

And as expected, there was Daniel, tucked close to the boy’s side. Still with Samantha and Tucker too, which was sure to make Daniel happy.

Adjusting himself more comfortably, Vlad settled in to wait. Daniel would make some sort of move soon. He was dimly aware that Brucie Wayne had just been pulled from the crowd.

**

Sam leaned in over Danny’s left shoulder, keeping her voice low.

“So Vlad’s fucking staring at us across the hall like the biggest creep on earth,” she hissed, and Danny automatically almost jolted to look.

Caught himself just in time. Leaned back against her, most of his attention still on Killer Croc.

“Think he had anything to do with this?” He asked under his breath, his gaze now meandering slowly across the other groups.

Yup, there was Vlad. Staring straight at him. Smiling when their eyes met, before Danny’s could dart away.

Ew.

“Does he look super expectant to anyone else?” Tucker whispered from behind them. Jason let out a soft growl, probably without even thinking about it.

Danny slipped a hand into his, squeezing gently.

Calm-relax-help is coming

Was not quite prepared for the shock that flashed back before Jason got it under control.

Jason hadn’t officially told Danny that the other Waynes and associates were the bats yet. He kinda didn’t have to.

Even if Jason had left the life after his death, that didn’t mean the family had. Still, it also wasn’t Jason’s secret to share, so Danny pretended to ignore it.

Much more productive to try and work out what the fuck Vlad’s angle was. Some kind of trick where he could play the hero and cozy up to Bruce?

Could he have orchestrated an attack with some of Gotham’s rogues? So far all of Croc’s demands had been for valuables and Harvey Dent, whoever that was.

There were surprisingly few actual valuables forthcoming too. Danny and Sam had obediently dropped their phones into an offered pillowcase, and wrestled Tucker’s precious PDA from his fingers.

The question mark guy had taken one look at it and tossed it back, declaring it junk. Aaaand Danny had shoved a fist into Tucker’s mouth while Sam reminded him that if he defended Ida’s worth, they’d take her.

He still wasn’t happy, but he had her in hand so he’d settled a lot more easily than the alternative.

Still, none of the pillowcases were really bulging, which was kinda weird. Most of the jewellery that had been on prominent sparkly display had kinda vanished when the windows shattered.

Some bigger pieces had been handed over, but Danny would swear the tiny harmless old lady in their group had had full bangles, necklace, earrings, and six rings on top of the ornate hair comb she’d handed over.

Weirder still, the goons seemed more annoyed than surprised.

“C’mon, don’t make me shake your fucking pockets out,” their guy growled, sending a kick at a young man near the edge of their circle. “Phones, wallets, jewellery, now!”

A single phone was passed up. An utterly unbelievable four from a group of fifteen. Danny raised his hands, trying to keep his Obsession on the back burner.

This wasn’t his city. Not his job. And if he changed to fight these guys, he’d be putting his friends in danger.

That last part was carrying most of the weight, honestly. And he’d finally lost his No Rogues streak.

Bummer. He’d been going for a campus record.

For tonight though, he could also distract himself with what the fuck Vlad was up to.

Pillowcase might be the one tossing his weight around, but long experience had taught Danny that he couldn’t protect anyone if he got caught in Vlad’s machinations.

That knowing little fucking smirk on Vlad’s face when their eyes met. The fucker was up to something, Danny knew it.

Well, there was one way to work out what. Glancing over at Jason, Danny made a face.

He’d understand. And maybe Danny could warn him a little better this time? Cuz if he got that overwhelmed every time, it’d be a real problem when they started training.

Then again, Danny had had a hard enough time with strong auras when he first got started, and he’d had a full core. Jason didn’t and Danny was… well, a lot bigger than Skulker or Technus.

Also Jason was still holding his hand. Which he had completely forgotten. Yup, his focus was totally great today.

He leaned in towards Jason instead, trying not to get differently distracted by the large man’s tension. Lots of muscles, well fitted suit, it would happen to anyone!

Except him. Today. Because there was a problem.

“Hey… I’m gonna try and get a read on Vlad, but that means I’ve gotta extend again. You good?”

**

It took every single second of every one of his four years with the League of Assassins to stop Jason flushing cherry red.

Great.

Best evening ever.

Highlight of his life.

His fucking king was checking if he was gonna pop a boner if he did some intel. Maybe he shoulda just fucking stayed in his damn grave.

It Did Not help that he could feel Danny’s concern creeping along the back of his neck like the lightest touch. Although…

Brow furrowing a little, Jason tried to chase down the feeling. Better than dealing with his own emotional state, which was Not Going There.

Danny felt… worried? About him? Not in the totally mortifying way Jason expected either. This felt almost soft.

Like he worried Jason might be hurt or upset if he did it.

There was a chance Danny hadn’t noticed.

Jason had been overwhelmed by Frostbite in the Far Frozen, it’d be a perfect cover if Danny hadn’t noticed the… key difference between the two.

Although the distinct amusement he could feel radiating off Sam suggested that she might have. Great again.

Since when could he feel human emotions?

How sure was he that Sam was still just human. She wasn’t a halfa, that was clear because there was no way Danny and Vlad could have missed it.

There were a lot of things between living and dying though. Jason was beginning to wonder just how many of them toed the edge of that particular line.

For now, he cleared his throat and tried to work out how best to seem like a totally-not-turned-on-by-your-looming-presence-in-my-every-breath guy.

Maybe it’d be better if he knew what to expect.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Go for it.”

**

In all his years as a halfa and eventually the king of ghosts, Danny had never actually felt someone just turn themselves off before.

Jason’s aura shut down like he’d flicked a switch, his face suddenly completely unreadable. It was fucking weird, the sudden void where he’d been used to ignoring a background hum.

Maybe he’d fucked Jason up worse than he’d thought before. All those thoughts and feelings could be overwhelming, and Danny had tried not to send any messages beyond his presence, but…

His fucking presence was kind of a lot these days. Even he didn’t know how loud it’d get, it had been a long time since he’d faced down Pariah Dark.

And that had been a life or death situation. He’d been ready to deal with it. He’d kinda sprung this on Jason today.

Fuck, just the thought he might have hurt Jason twanged on the strings currently pulled taught by his Obsession. Made him want to wrap the other halfa up and Protect him from the world.

Which was exactly the thing that’d hurt Jason in the first place. No way he’d wanna deal with that again.

He was about to apologise for even mentioning it when he felt Jason slowly open up. Reaching back, probing and…

Danny didn’t try and look. Didn’t want to know what his words had caused which made the other man do That.

He didn’t need to though. Embarrassment-worry-hope spilled from that questing contact, and Danny made a specific effort not to think about it.

Jason was a big guy. Big and strong and clearly worked for his strength. Being caught in any moment of weakness probably sucked for him.

Hard to relate to, since even though Danny was technically the biggest and scariest fish in the whole damn ocean, he’d been a scrawny little fuck for his entire full life.

He’d been ground in the dirt long after he’d had the strength to stop it, and feigning weakness had kinda kicked that whole ego thing in the ass.

It helped when he was having to relive his most embarrassing highlights to prepare Jason for the “fun” of developing halfa powers.

Relief came through loud enough that Danny nearly smiled, nearly sent something back to reassure him, but he held off. It… didn’t feel intentional?

And yeah, very normal that Jason hadn’t liked the near-telepathy Danny’s empathy gave him into his thoughts and feelings before. It was invasive.

Buuuuut that worked for him when the one he was invading was a creepy old fuck with the occasional world domination scheme.

He glanced up when Jason cleared his throat and nodded.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Go for it.”

Danny wasn’t gonna insult him by calling him a liar. Closing his eyes, he did his best to tamp down his presence and just reach across the hall.

**

Watching their whispered discussion with interest, Vlad almost wished he could hear them. Or spread his own energy the way Daniel could, far enough to read them from a distance.

That must have been what they were discussing though, because a moment later he could feel the stroking Presence of Daniel across his very soul.

Let the boy look. He had nothing to hide.

**

Danny’s eyes snapped open, blatantly dumbfounded.

“He’s fucking waiting for me to rescue him,” he hissed, almost loud enough to attract their goon’s attention.

Luckily another couple were busily insisting they simply did not own a cellphone. In Gotham city. In this day and age.

Just tell the guy to go fuck himself why don’t you.

None of the others seemed to know what to do with Danny’s revelation, though Jason’s lips pressed into a very thin line.

Danny would put money on repressing laughter.

Sam seemed to be on the same wavelength, brightening up and leaning in to Danny’s other ear.

“Wanna save literally anyone but him?” She murmured under her breath, glancing around the room.

Danny clapped a hand over his mouth ahead of any wayward giggles.

“SAM. There are bats about!” He hissed through his fingers and she rolled her eyes.

“Yeah so stay Fenton. You could still punch Killer Croc, it’s not like he has ectoblasts.”

Why did she have a point.

Why was Jason suddenly grinning at him, so bright with glee-mischief-fuckery Danny didn’t even need his aura to see it.

“Danny. Remember what my brother called you?” He asked quietly, leaning in almost close enough to be… distracting. Which was totally the only reason it took Danny a moment to twig.

Longer than Tucker anyway.

“Danger twink,” the Black man whistled with a wicked glee of his own. A grin spread across Danny’s own face.

“Oh… hell yes.”

**

As usual, Bruce found himself in a position to fully agree with his children.

Galas sucked.

Of course, that wasn’t unique to this one. He felt the same way most of the time. He understood the importance of keeping up appearances, but he’d rather spend the night asleep if he couldn’t be working.

Usually, the rogue attack was a pleasant diversion. A chance to watch his family at work. Bruce didn’t mind playing hostage for them.

Today, he was just frustrated.

He needed to talk to Jason. Needed to catch up with Tim, get whatever intel he’d acquired. Needed to get Jason away from this Danny and keep him safe.

The Riddler’s men pulling him from the crowds while they split them into manageable chunks was unfortunately expected. Brucie’s friendship with Harvey Dent was well known.

As little as he liked it, Batman preferred having some control of the situation. What he couldn’t understand was why Killer Croc and Riddler would both think Harvey was here.

Croc could sometimes be reasoned with, he’d gotten away from the Gotham nightlife more than once, but he kept being pulled back in.

Tonight did not seem to be one of his good nights.

Brucie fixed his best smile in place as the scaled man bellowed at him.

“We’re gonna find yer pal Dent, Brucie! Just give him up!”

Luckily, he’d put a lot of work into making Brucie as vapid as possible.

“Gee, it’s a surprise to see you here today, Mister Croc. I heard you had moved to Coney Island to do shows, I was really looking forward to bringing my kids down to see you,” he said cheerfully, like they were catching up in a cafe.

Croc was not amused. Yellow eyes narrowed.

“An’ now I’m here, and the only person I wanna see is that half barbecued mess you call a friend,” he growled, grabbing the front of Brucie’s shirt and shaking him roughly.

Bruce let himself flop, eyes going wide and terrified.

With any luck, Kane would be busy on the other side of town. He’d rather be able to check in with her later about the whole Danny scenario, her opinion unbiased.

“I’m sorry sir but I don’t think I can help you,” he gasped, hands coming up to clutch Croc’s, “Harvey isn’t here.”

That made the man stop, those slit pupils dilating as he squinted down into Brucie’s face. He did his very best wide eyed, empty headed socialite back.

He seemed to be coming to a conclusion as one of the Riddler’s men stepped up, holding up a tablet. On screen, there was the Riddler, idly spinning his cane.

“How goes the man hunt, Croccy?” He asked over the speakers, barely glancing at the man in his grasp.

Killer Croc examined Brucie for a moment longer, then snorted and dropped him. Brucie dropped to the floor, gasping for air and keeping at an angle where he could see the screen.

Had Riddler’s new bombs been intended for the gala all along? Or was this retaliation for the warehouse raid?

“He ain’t here yet,” Croc grumbled, and Bruce noted that for later.

Had Harvey been planning to attack the gala? As always with Two Face, it’d be a coin toss. The bats hadn’t heard that he was planning anything, but that didn’t always mean he wasn’t.

Riddler tutted softly, still spinning his cane.

“Well, we have time to wait. Are all the guests ready?”

His goon turned obediently, panning the tablet’s camera around the room. Brucie let himself drop slightly further back to keep the screen in sight, laying on the floor.

“Excellent.” Riddler sounded satisfied, which probably wasn’t good. “Croc!”

The goon turned again, bringing the camera back to face Killer Croc. Bruce was familiar enough with his face to see the reluctant tick of a smirk at the corners of his mouth.

It wasn’t exactly a dignified job, being the tablet bearer. Still, it did put this man lower on the priority list for his children to take out, so it had advantages.

“Yeah, yeah,” Killer Croc grumbled, also turning back to the room at large, and Bruce tensed. He was losing their interest.

“If Harvey-” he was cut off by a casual kick from Killer Croc, not hard enough to break anything, but hard enough that he had no choice but to crumple around it.

Batman could tank a hit. Brucie couldn’t be allowed to look even half as capable.

And then his heart froze in his chest as Croc bellowed to the rest of the room.

“Where’s the man of the hour?”

**

In the shadows of the ceiling, Nightwing, Spoiler, and Red Robin froze as one. Black Bat and Robin were mapping the perimeter, checking the number of goons and any extra defences before Signal arrived.

Sharing a quick set of worried glances, Nightwing swung lightly across the hall to get a better look at the tablet. Tapped at his comm.

“Odds they want anything good with Jason?” He asked in a whisper, grimacing when Spoiler and Red Robin shook their heads as one.

Yeah. He figured.

“Odds we can move in now and get it over with?” Not that he expected them to be high.

Spoiler held out a hand palm down and wiggled it from side to side. Before any of them could speak, Robin commed in.

“Negative. There’s another dozen of Riddler’s men out here, setting up some sort of machine. It seems you caught the very tail end of his efforts,” he added with a disdainful scoff.

A grin tugged at Nightwing’s lips as Red Robin visibly twitched.

“That or he’s retaliating for his latest plan being foiled,” he offered cheerfully.

He didn’t particularly have any investment in them not having taken Riddler out of the picture; the man himself wasn’t in Arkham, so he’d assumed he’d be back.

Maybe not this soon, but Nigma could be volatile if his careful preparations were disturbed. And since he also wasn’t here…

“Something’s wrong either way, Riddler loves being on scene far too much to stay in the shadows,” Red Robin hissed, eyes still darting around. “He’d want to send a taunt to the Bats.”

“He’s gonna be real disappointed that we’re all here already if he’s posted up somewhere else,” Spoiler pointed out with a slight smirk, glancing around the hall. “Should we ask Signal to hold back?”

“Hey, you got me out of bed for the Danger Twink,” Signal cut in, just a hint of a grunt indicating he was already on his way.

“Batwoman and Bluebird can hunt him down if the taunt comes,” Red Robin cut them both off, brows furrowed in that all too familiar calculating frown.

Which, yeah. It’d be bugging him way more than Nightwing that something was off with the rogues’ behaviour. Red Robin liked knowing everything about everyone, all the time.

Nightwing didn’t mind switching it up, though every bat knew how to roll with the punches.

The lack of a puzzle was odd though. Riddler usually didn’t move in public until he had at least something ready to share.

Reaching up, he tapped his comms.

“Hey Robin, any chance you can get a closer look at what they’re setting up? See what we’re gonna be dealing with before Puzzle Quest starts?”

Robin just sounded impatient, flicking his own comms loud enough they all heard the impact.

“That is what I am doing. Thus far it seems rather basic. No recording or transmitting equipment.”

Which meant that either Riddler was set up to broadcast somewhere else, or this really wasn’t his operation. But what would Riddler have to gain from working with Killer Croc?

Or were they both just looking for Two face?

Too many questions, and they weren’t likely to get the answers without at least two of the rogues in question. Hopefully someone else would get their hands on Riddler, if he wasn’t coming personally.

Maybe it wasn’t great that more than half the family were on site. Fucking typical that this would be the first rogue attack ever without the rogues physically present.

Red Robin’s head rose, and Nightwing settled into position to wait. Time for the plan.

“Black Bat, finish your sweep and let us know if there’s anything else being set up on site, Spoiler go to join her. Signal, sweep the outer perimeter when you arrive, be on the watch for Riddler himself or more goons.”

Spoiler nodded, making her way from the hall through the chandelier maintenance hatch. Red Robin looked across at Nightwing, and he gave him a thumbs up.

“I’ll get a little closer and see if I can’t get an eye on that screen while you hack the feed?” He asked, and grinned when Red Robin shot him a grateful smile.

It was hard for any of them to keep up when Tim fell into his full planning mode, whether they were masked or not. Any time he didn’t have to spell things out he was happy.

Nightwing never held it against him. The kid could leave Batman spinning his wheels and he’d been frustrated often enough when he had to explain his plans to the Teen Titans.

Knowing that everyone in the room was smart and capable did not help when you were talking at cross purposes.

Tonight, he attached a line to one of the ornate pillars along the walls and lowered himself down into the shadows of one of the draped blue hangings.

If nothing else, it gave him a good view as Jason was pulled from his little group.

Little Wing looked… well, not that they’d expected him to look terrified or even particularly concerned, but he looked seriously amused by the situation.

This should be good.

**

It wasn’t that Jason had been expecting to be singled out. As far as most of the rogues knew, the Waynes were just another one of the richest families in town.

Good to shake down for cash, but not usually of any special interest. He was pretty sure most of the rogues couldn’t even name half the adopted kids.

So being called out by Killer Croc? Not expected. That it had happened literally right after he and Danny had been discussing plans to start shit?

Incredible. 10/10, Croc was moving up on his favourite villain list. He’d always been high, but this might do it.

It helped that the rush of Danny’s Presence had been more manageable this time. Whether it was having been warned or just experiencing it before, he hadn’t been swept off his feet.

It was still a lot, as if Danny had laid himself along Jason’s back and then pulled his way straight into his body. But he could breathe. Could think, could focus, and then it was gone again.

And being summoned by Killer Croc pretty much right away.

Maybe the adrenaline helped. Who fucking knew.

He raised a hand as the goons all turned to their groups, squinting suspiciously at the socialites.

“That’d be me?” He offered dryly, already rising as their riddler minion made as if to push through their group.

Sam grabbed Danny’s arm as Jason moved away, and onlookers might have confused it as her wanting comfort, or stopping Danny from following.

This close, Jason knew it was a warning for Danny not to actually laugh. The timing was just… the actual fucking best.

Killer Croc actually moved down towards him too, rather than having Jason brought up to the stage. Even better. Jason didn’t exactly square up, but he didn’t back down.

Croc seemed to approve, giving Jason an entirely unsubtle once over as he stopped just in front of him.

Better play carefully though. He’d worked with Croc as the Red Hood, and he already knew Roy’s real identity.

Croc had been running with Harley lately (and Jason kinda loved that partnership made in Hell) but he wasn’t officially on the list of Rogues Who Knew.

Luckily the plan wasn’t for Jason to take a swing at him.

“So yer back from the dead,” Croc growled, something in his eye making Jason wonder if they might not have to update that list after all. “Coulda sworn you were a scrawny little shit.”

Jason shrugged. It wasn’t really something he could deny; he’d grown almost a foot and a half. Being dead: weirdly good for growth spurts.

“I got better.”

What it was to Croc though… unless he did know who Jason really was. But then he’d have known Jason had been back for a while.

Croc rumbled something under his breath, and Jason made a note to run him down later as Red Hood. He’d been settled in Coney Island, finally out of the game.

Jason wasn’t gonna put him in Arkham if there was a chance they could fix whatever had dragged him back to town. And they could catch up. See what he actually knew.

Eyes narrowing just a little, Croc caught a scaly thumb under Jason’s jaw and tipped his face back and forth.

“So what the hell’ve you done to piss of Two Face, kid?” He asked in a lower growl, not quite quiet enough for privacy but not yelling to the whole hall.

Jason’s brows furrowed.

So they weren’t after Dent as a guest. He’d been planning an attack on the gala. Whether he’d still go through with it now though…

And the good news was, best case scenario here was to tell the truth. At least some of it.

“No idea. I’ve only been back in the land of the living for a couple weeks.” And he hadn’t run across Two Face recently in any costume.

Croc chuckled softly, which Jason was going to weigh in the “might know” column, but was interrupted by Riddler shouting across the hall.

“Just bring the boy here, Croccy, we need to set the stage before our fickle friend shows up!” He sounded impatient, and Jason watched annoyance flick across Croc’s eyes.

But the big man just shrugged, curling an arm around Jason’s bicep and tugging him towards the stage.

Yeah, Jason could feel just how much Danny didn’t like that development. There was a new undercut of tension alongside the amused-excited-anticipation.

And it was as good a time as any to start the show.

“What do you guys want with Two Face?” He asked as Croc dragged him, moving with him but not quite keeping up.

Flicking wait-soon-just one second as much as he could towards Danny.

Croc glanced back and gave him a harsher yank to keep up, attention now fixed on the stage. Where a couple more of Riddler’s goons had appeared, holding what looked fascinatingly like a bomb vest.

Joy. Not just Croc’s idea then.

“You’ll see just as soon as he shows up,” the big guy growled, and Jason sighed. So much for the easy way.

Ready-ready-ready

DUCK

“Catching” one toe on the heel of his other shoe, Jason stumbled and fell to the floor. As expected Croc twisted to glare down at him, grip still tight on his arm. Even bent over just a little, like he’d seen the script.

Perfect.

Which meant he didn’t see Danny vaulting up from his spot on the floor and wasn’t even a little prepared for an entire scrawny but muscular young man to land squarely straddling his shoulders, his added weight and momentum pitching Croc forwards and down to the ground.

Danny rode him down like a rodeo champ, leaning back and grinning at Jason as a hail of batarangs came from the ceiling.

“Come here often?” He asked cheerfully as Croc roared, clawed hands swiping up just after Danny rolled away down his back.

Jason snorted a laugh, pulling free as well and backing away.

Fucking danger twink. Yeah, he was kinda in love.

——————-

Next:

#danny fenton dead and loving it #dpxdc #dp x dc #dead on main ship #the inevitable rogue attack #danny fenton x jason todd #and here is where shit gets real #nobody correctly guessed who was coming #but i’m gonna keep making you wait 😈 #also for sam’s pov we’ll get her at the real climax of the event

[pizzaapeteer]

Hi! 💚 For the character ask game: Blaise - 1, 6, 12

Leaving you with a BOOP 😘

Hehe answering this a day late means I get an extra boop 🥹 hello wife 💛

1. Why do you like or dislike this character?

Blaise first of all is one handsome as mf. Book, movie and fancast version like ugh 🤤 but as he doesn’t talk much in the movies my fav things I’ve picked up or decided myself. Is that he’s just so damn calm and cool, like this boy just carry’s himself so well. Like this boy has his shit together and that’s fucking hot. I also love the idea of him just being able to put up with people and put people in place with a look.

6. What's something you have in common with this character?

I feel Blaise is the father of the group, he’s pretty mature and just calm in comparisons to the other boys. 100% relate to being the mum of a friend group, but he’d def do it better than me lmfao

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character?

When Blaise grows out his hair, he totally has a perfect curl routine. He learnt from his mama and he totally took the time to share his knowledge with Mattheo. Since he is such a father figure to these boys I can just see a little bonding moment where he teaches Mattheo and they do their hair care together 🥹 I had to go make a little edit for this and look how adorable the two of them are 😫🥰

#answering fun game questions #this was so cuteeeee ash #Blaise zabini #Mattheo riddle

[wawamouse]

OZ Rewatch 3: s3e07: Secret Identities

Okay well, I’ll just say ahead of time that this is probably (maybe) going to deteriorate once again in quality (I can barely type when I’m sober so add alcohol and I’m FUCKED looool

Plotlines:

Keller continues to fuck with Sister Pete, standing her up

Alvarez finally meets face to face with Rivera

Sister Pete confronts Keller about him manipulating her and tells Mukada she is leaving the convent

Glynn tries to interrogate the Latinos abut the drugs

Carlo’s sister tries to see him. McManus gives the note from her to Carlo to Lopresti who throws it away

Hughes being a bitch. Elbows Diane in the face. Glynn finally tells Hughs what happened.

Dianne kisses McManus as some kind of power play against Claire

Nappa finishes his true crime book and is killed by Nat

Adebisi gets Wangler to accuse McManus of sexual harassment

Shirley asks to see McManus and ask about methods of death; Shirley averts the death penalty by being pregos

Boxing lead up: Cyril out of control ! He’s fighting Jaz; Aebisi wants to align with the Muslims, make it a race thing

Khan v Cramer; Khan wins

Toby and Said!! Keller does not like

Said is humbled, tells Khan

Toby forgives Keller but no homo lol so Keller wants to kill Said (BOO); Tobias apologises to Schillinger like a stupid person; FIGHT!! Weewoo weewoo

Sister: Is this a hallucination... Oh thank God.

Sister: Oh, i thought he was dead. I’m so used to people just appearing like that in this show.

Sister: Why wouldn’t you be able to have a kid? He’s only blind. It’s not like she wouldn’t be able to see the kid. I feel like she’s making this harder on him than it has to be… [schoolmate]’s dad was blind and he had two kids, remember? I don’t get this.

Sister: No, he saved his cajones.

Sister: (as Chris) That’s why I’m manipulating you

Sister: yeah, let’s just give it to the guys who are definitely going to throw it away. (Lopresti throws away the note) Sister: Thank youuu. Did exactly what I said he was going to.

He would so get into conspiracy theories. Or true crime podcasts.

Sister: (as Glynn) Because I’ve been getting it on with the priest. Me: You’re still on that?! Sister: Because he doth protest too much!

Sister: She’s going to say that now but when she’s actually there, she’s gonna be like “this sucks, I change my mind”

Sister: THAT’S "Little Anthony"?!

To be honest there wasn’t much commentary this episode because Sisters was smacked halfway in lol and she gets real quiet. I feel like the episode flew by though. Felt shorter than most, and maybe it is, at 56 minutes.

Final Thoughts:

Sister: This episode felt kinda short. That one part where he touched the boob… no thank you. That one lady (Tina) did not need to be there. Like she needed to go eat a bagel or something, like she was making it worse. Me: Who’s your favorite character right now? Sister: Mr. Nappa Cabbage. So sad… We even bought a Nappa cabbage right now but I haven’t even eaten it Me: Miguel? Sister: He’s not even in this episode… Me: He talked to Eugene. Sister: Which was a waste of time. It was so stupid. [Rant about Tina] Me: What do you think about what’s going to happen? Sister: With what? The baby? Me: Next episode is the last episode. Sister: They’re just gonna redo the coup. Replay the glory of season 1. Someone’s going to get maimed, but I don’t think it’ll be those three guys (Toby, Said, Keller) ‘cause they just got got this episode. Me: Well they still have the boxing matches. Sister: I don’t like those. I’m just there for the fashion. Seeing what the gays wore. No good hair, though. I think the one gay in the leather (Fiona) should’ve had Betty Boop hair…

Stray Thoughts

Kinda amazing that Pancamo crushed that floppy disk in one hand

Keller was looking at a website about high school GED equivalencies, suggesting that he doesn’t have one

No Chico this episode. Big L.. Woulda loved to see him doing the Que routine lol

#text #oz hbo #oz rewatch

[monmuses]

a couple of romantic ideas

while he's on the ace spectrum, Krieg is not closed off entirely from love. he's the society definition of how folks see pitbulls - monsters that are "genetically designed" to be feral and scary, but in truth, they're gentle giants. while Krieg can scream about meat and blood for hours on end without stopping, it's not a dent in his intelligence. he's really fucking smart, and it shows in how he talks to people. he has a softer side to himself that he's not afraid to show to certain people because he wants to care for somebody, but he struggles to find himself as important to others.

the trauma and past experiences with splitting his mind has left him with an immense amount of insecurities and feeling inferior to others, not finding himself as important or only there on the side, but wants to make himself feel included. with someone he genuinely loves, that mindset will slowly become more less and less prominent with more confidence in himself.

he will make meals for you (he knows how to cook!), he will be physically loving with head boops, hand-holding, kisses, and gentle hugs. his emotions get too much for him sometimes (specifically Psycho!Krieg), but they are ALWAYS genuine. he's honest and very straightforward with how he speaks about his feelings and always is asking what other emotions feel; he only ever feels rage and genuine joy from the bloodlust, but anything else? weird to him.

i personally do not see him going quick to trying to get in your pants (and i've seen art of him doing this so quickly which is... very weird. yeah he's wanted for "indecent exposure" but that is solely because he's crazy). if anything, he'd be almost afraid of that kind of intimacy or he's forgotten how any of that goes. for him, just that genuine love is enough for him on Pandora; he does not have time for sex. if anything, the closest thing he'll find hot is hand-holding.

HE WILL KILL FOR YOU. let me make that clear - he will kill for you. sane!krieg will be on the same boat with this, but HE WILL KILL for you. it doesn't matter if you don't want him to, because he will. he will, and he will take pride in killing for you in the most artistic ways via splitting bone and using intestines as a new straw. and he will not be afraid to be monstrous for you if you are as accepting of it because this will not change in his life.

if your muse has telepathic powers and can manage to talk to sane!krieg, he will be MORE attached to you. to be able to speak or able to be heard in his thoughts is a HUGE step and just being heard is ENOUGH to make him fall for you. while the trust can waiver for specific people, if you manage to hold up that trust AND you can hear him? he's on his hands and knees. hell, even psycho!krieg struggles with people not understanding him, and someone who can understand his words makes him SO happy.

#✨{𝔭𝔞𝔭𝔢𝔯 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔭𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔦𝔩; (𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔫) #✨{𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔴𝔬𝔨𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔯𝔬𝔫𝔤 𝔡𝔬𝔤!!; (𝔨𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔤 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔭𝔰𝔶𝔠𝔥𝔬) #// *listen i have a lot of ideas #// *he is a Literal Fucking Pitbull in the Borderlands world

[the1975attheirverybest]

Here to change the mood.

Concept: you don't usually get drunk, but it's your birthday, your graduation whatever occasion so you get tipsy and that lead you to be super sappy (maybe you're usually more guarded) so Matty is looking after you but also having a field day because you're declaring how much you love and how good he's too you.

(stay away from nasty angles of internet, love)-🍕

Brooo!!! I wasn’t even trying. Like, just scrolling through comments about what people think Matty’s solo album is gonna sound like, then, I saw someone say that Matty actually sucks, the album is gonna be bad, and the only reason the 1975 works is because the other guys act as a filter to Matty. AND THIS IS AN ACTUAL FAN???!! then of course other people started chiming in and the comments got out of hand. It was like a car crash. Couldn’t look awayyyy. Then when someone said Jack Antonoff might be producing, people started hating on Jack too!!!! The internet is weird. ( I say that, on the internet, yeah)

ANYWAYS FUCK THAT SHIT NO WONDER MATTY DEACTIVATES TWICE A YEAR LMAO.

I think Matty would enjoy and document this experience sooo much. Like, he’d take his phone out and be like “alright, love, tell me again how much you love me” and would be cackling so hard. And when he’s helping you get dressed or take your makeup off, you’re just being like “awww, you are so sweet; you know that?” And you press your pinky to his dimples or you boop his nose cuz “it’s too pretty and boop-able” by the end of the night his mouth hurts from laughing so much.

#matty concepts

[stupid-sloot-headcanons]

A penny for your legend of korra opinions?

Ok but I'm gonna preemptively pull out my Bisexual Card when it comes to bitching about Korrasami lol

The best parts of Korra are its animation, sound design, fight choreography, and production. Also JK Simmons is there.

Fucks the established Lore of ATLA. The spirit world is no longer a realm that exists beyond the physical, it's a place you can physically go to with portals even if you aren't the Avatar. Harmonic Convergence dictates that there apparently needs to be a set number of Airbenders in the world, so boom: we get random people getting Airbender powers. This could work with a bit of rewriting, but as it is it renders the near annihilation of the air nomads moot and pointless.

Retconned the origins of bending from imitating and working synonymously with nature and spirits to the Lion Turtles booping people on the head to give them powers. It's not something you had to train to do, Wan just got head-booped and can suddenly shoot fire from his arm. The origins of bending being a way to protect yourself from spirits also makes no sense, since humans used to not be able to access the spirit realm unless you were the Avatar or a guru. Even then, it was a kind of astral projection and not physically walking there through an Ultima-esque moongate.

Rava and Vatu are a concept of yin and yang that we already had with the ideas of balance and how the Fire Nation can't just be eradicated (they contribute to the balance of life like every other bender nation), as well as the two fish Twi and La that are the source of waterbender's powers (again, nature and spirits coinciding with the human realm is what powers benders: NOT LION TURTLES GIVING POWERS TO ANY SCHMUCK THAT ASKS). Also, for their importance in Korra, Rava and Vatu are never mentioned in ATLA ever. Why is Vatu an evil antagonist when the entire concept of balance in ATLA is that YOU NEED BOTH SIDES FOR BALANCE.

The aesthetic of the radio-era is cool, but doesn't fit at all with the story and world building of Avatar. Bryke admit that they added it because it looked cool and there was no other thought to it, and it shows. Republic City fucks with the world building painstakingly set up in ATLA with its aesthetic, and could have been fixed by simply not making Korra the very next Avatar. The rapid industrialization just makes no sense and doesn't meld with world building. There were trains in Ba Sing Se and a mail system, but they were powered by earthbending. How the fuck are there radios, zeppelins, cars, and high-rises when we had oxcarts less than a century before this?

Why are there more flying bison if Appa was the last one?

Korra is a shit protagonist. I'm fine with a cocky Avatar, but only if they're likeable and have the ability to back up that cockiness. She tries to get Mako to break up with Asami in the asinine love triangle of this fucking series, forces a kiss on him, dates his brother to make him jealous, and it's all handwaved because she's the Avatar and protagonist and you've got to deal with it. I dunno, I'm just saying if a male Avatar did this same thing to a woman, they wouldn't be given this much narrative leeway. Speaking of narrative leeway, Korra gets a fuckton of it despite being just as entitled as she is in Book 1.

Korra's inability to Airbend was an interesting idea that could have worked, but instead of the logical and well-written idea of her having to change her views on bending to follow Airbending teachings (like Tenzin was trying to show her before she ragequit and set a cultural artifact of a barely surviving culture in fire), but instead she just magically Airbends in the climax. "I can airbend? ....I CAN AIRBEND." Lame and nullifies the arc they were trying to set up for her character the entire first season.

The idea of nonbenders being threatened by benders is interesting and would have made narrative sense in ATLA, but the boom in technology and infrastructure means there really isn't much a nonbender struggles with anymore. Amon is cool and he and Tenzin are the only characters I like, but it turns out in a big dumb twist that the main nonbender antagonist of season 1 is actually a waterbender. A waterbender who can somehow waterbend without need of the full moon, which is a retcon that actively breaks the lore of ATLA.

Toph becomes the head of the police force in Ba Sing Se and so does her descendant despite being Toph fucking Beifong.

Tenzin's attempts to try and show Korra how to airbend and why she can't do it are resolved by him realizing he's being an old fuddy-duddy and that Korra just had to learn it in her own way. This is despite the fact that her emotional block and incompatibility with Airbending was never changed in the slightest and she suddenly could airbend just because.

Korra has seen the flashbacks to Wan (and the origins of the Avatar state are SO fucking stupid and lore-breaking but I digress) and knows that the spirit world inhabitants living with humans has not worked in the past; Wan even knows this and that's why he says goodbye to his friends in the spirit realm and seals the portal. Yet Korra somehow thinks keeping the portals open is a good idea because...I don't know, she's a dumbass I guess?

Asami and Korra have little to no chemistry until the very end of Book 3 if I'm being generous (and thats mainly the one hand hold scene). They're active rivals in Book 1, they talk in two or three scenes in Book 2 and 3 with the only one of them really interacting being them reminiscing in a jokey way about them both being with Mako, and the way they suddenly get over what SHOULD be a large emotional rift in a single conversation is unrealistic. Then they talk a few more times in Book 3 and by Book 4, boom! They were a couple the whole time. Pro writing tip: if you need paragraphs and paragraphs breaking down scenes to prove they were actually showing evidence of a romance, you have written your romance fucking poorly. This is odd considering Bryke have written well done romances in ATLA like Katara and Aang, and both of Sokka's romances with Suki and Yue. Sokka's romances were both given very little screen time compared to Kataang and still wound up hitting emotional points that made sense and were compelling.

Things like Korra mastering 3 elements by the time she's a 5 year old because fuck you she's just that talented and special cheapens the training characters like Aang and other avatars went through. Aang, the youngest airbender master in history, mastered his birth element in six years and it took months of rigorous training to develop skills in the other elements. (Remember Sozin outright telling Aang: "MASTERING THE ELEMENTS TAKES YEARS OF DISCIPLINE AND PRACTICE?") You can just show Korra putting in actual effort and taking a few years to develop her bending as opposed to mastering 3 OF THE 4 ELEMENTS BEFORE HITTING 6 YEARS OLD. She didn't even struggle with fire despite Aang struggling with earth, as they're opposites.

I don't know how much edgy humor you can stomach, but basically I agree with a lot of the points made by E;R's critiques/long-form shitting on of Legend of Korra.

#sloot bitches about things #.lok #amon's rad. tenzin's rad. and it looks pretty and the fights are cool. the end #sloot's essays #oh and lin. lin's cool

[ravenadottir]

hello!! I absolutely love your headcanons since I genuinely think that it can be canon with how in character it all feels. That being said, I wanted to ask if you have any recommended blogs that does similar content as yours? Preferably those who don't shit on Bobby or S2 as a whole because I wouldn't be able to handle the criticism lmao

oaskoaskaoskoask

"Preferably those who don't shit on Bobby or S2 as a whole because I wouldn't be able to handle the criticism lmao"

hey you're just taking care of your mental health, mate 🧡

yes, i do have some recs, but i haven't been much present here... i actually only come in, answer asks, queue them and skedaddle, so this is actually hard as hell to answer lol

@ariendiel @alienlovegames @lasswithumor @kiwi-tai @crvsh-culture @gossipsneezer @mrsbsmooth @noahsthottie @codename-mango @follies-fixture @tammyisobsessedwith @thegarybible @justtuesdays @thatwheelchairchick @starsarestars @aislinnstanaka @longbobmckenzie @hopeshoodie @i-boop-you

i hate forgetting people but at the same time i can't recommend as many blogs because i don't know many people 'cause i'm fucking awkward as shit and i-

we're talking about headcanons, writing, all the shazam, right?? i know these people put out fantastic content, whether it's funny, hot takes, simple random headcanons that sometimes pops in your head in the middle of night when you were thinking about a very specific piece of dialogue and couldn't just let it go so you whip your phone out and write it down only to realize tons of other people think like wow same fuck.

anyway. i would love to have more people leave recommendations in the comments because, well, there's DOZENS of great blogs putting content out here every single day, so please, leave them here.

#litg blogs

[minty-mumbles]

LU Survey Responses Part Three: Favorites and Least Favorties

Part One: Demographics

Part Two: General Questions

~~~

#1:

#2:

#3:

#4:

Other Responses: Legend/Ravio/Marin (4), Wind/Tetra (2), Wild/Ravali, Time/Nabooru, Hyrule/Aurora, Four/Dot/Shadow, Every single WLW Zelda ship, Some variation of "I love them all, fuck you" (4), Who cares about ships I want found family

#5:

#6:

#7: An assortment of answers from the free response, under the cut because there are many:

:p

The Snail From the New Update!!!!!!!!!!!

🌹 for you!

I love the Legend of Zelda and Linked Universe! Also I don't dislike any of the Links, and Legend is pretty much tied for favorite with Time for me. Really just depends on my mood or something (or how recently I've played one of their games).

Consider the following: Golden Sword FI

Froggie

i wanna see shadow in the comic so fucking badly jojo please 😭

One time I was playing the og Loz and I couldn't find the second dungeon to go to but I managed to find the second last dungeon or something by running past a horde of lynels and I managed to bs my way through half of it until I got stuck in a room with an enemy I had to kill to leave but wasn't able to kill with my lack of tools and it couldn't kill me so I had to restart the whole game and I haven't played since. Also if you attack a cucco in Twilight Princess, it doesn't attack you; instead you become the cucco for a few seconds and can flap around and scream

Do u like Mac and cheese

yeah twilight princess is my favourite game and i haven’t played it but in my defence i’m a goth

the Pokémon Mystery Dungeon DX remake of the song "Sky Tower" bangs and you should check it out (if you want)

Four is all but canonically the spirit of the Four Sword, and there's so much evidence for it in his games and even his personality in LU, but I feel like this is underrepresented in people's headcanons because people don't know as much about Four.

i hope youre having a good day <33 -@soul-of-rei

Fun Fact: The “Ballad Of The Windfish” from Link’s Awakening is in the melody of the Hyrule Castle main theme (outdoors) for some reason snd I noticed it like yesterday and I can’t tell if they did this with consideration for lore or if they just used it because the Ballad Of The Windfish only shows up in one game and is therefore a less well known and less likely to be noticed detail so they reused the song to not have to make a new song. On the other hand, TP and SS were two other games remastered for Switch and beyond simple convenience both games have a lot of interesting details that show up in and add to botws lore so maybe Link’s Awakening has significance to botw or botw 2 too and no one noticed hrmmmmm sorry this became an unintended theory ramble

Why does ganon hate the internet? There are too many links hehehehe

Tell your followers they're amazing!!! - Nayra

I really like linked universe. There’s so much room for creativity in the fandom. I love to see all the different interpretations of Link! :)

Vultures throw up when they feel threatened

We got a new kitten, his name is Maui, and he likes head boops. This has nothing to do with LU but I thought it was important.

the ocean is soup. this is an undeniable fact.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=dQw4w9WgXcQ

This section I like to call "gushing over the various Links"

i don't think enough people realize that wind killed a man

I love wind so much he's my little guy I wanna pay for his college tuition

Wind deserves much more attention in the fandom he's my little pirate dude

Shout out to my boy Hyrule for being so cute

#BringSkyBackFromTheGasStation

Wind is best boy

Wolfie is best boy

Wild is my comfort for my mental health. I guess I project?

Grandaddy Wolfie >>>>

The fact I could only choose one favourite hurt, I was here for like 3 minutes deciding who to pick between Sky and Warrior's :'D

spent a solid 10 minutes trying to decide who i could say was my least favourite link because i love them all so much

And I'm not pasting the whole thing in here, but let it be known that the entire bee movie script, the wikipedia page for the chair, and the fitness gram pacer test were submitted

#lu survey #lu #linked universe