#he needs to come back for enterprise game night

[ew-selfish-art]

DPxDC AU: Tim receives an interesting email from DalvCo explaining why the CEO is not to be trusted- It's an internal email and suddenly Tim is experiencing supernatural phenomena. He knows that the two events are absolutely related, but he's going to let the cutie stumble his way through data points and vague threats anyway.

(Sorry this got long lmao)

Tim is exhausted after a long night of staking out a new drug cartel with Hood (which in itself took a lot of energy from both of them to have the patience for the other- things are good, not great)... so right now he's logging into his WE email on the train to his office because he's incredibly late. And while he scrolls and contemplates the failsafes he has to make sure Tam doesn't murder him outright- he sees an unexpected email from Vladimir Masters.

Tim's curiosity is piqued, he'd thought that Vlad would have gotten the hint after Tim dismissed him at that Christmas gala a few years ago. Most people took Tim's snubbing as a fatality in the Gotham socialite scene- Most knew him to be 'an agreeable young man', and Tim's reputation had paid a small price for making Vlad's failed vibe check known to the room. The tabloids blamed it on the champagne glass he had in his hand- Has he mentioned how much he hates Vicky Vale lately??

Tim has a few stops to go and he's pretty sure that he's going to delete the email, but in sleep deprived inspiration, he decides it might as well entertain him while he waits. The letter isn't at all what he expected.

"Hello Wayne Enterprise's CEO Tim Drake, I'm sending you this letter on behalf of the entire Midwest to advise that you, under no circumstances, come into contact with or speak to the CEO of DalvCo Vlad Masters. He is underhanded and utilizes untraceable tactics to procure deals. We have reason to believe you may be targeted in the next few days and hope that you are able to take steps for your own safety to avoid Vlad Masters at all costs.

Sincerely, 👑"

Tim feels bewildered for a moment and then... Like a cat with a new toy mouse. A game was afoot! He needed to track down these hackers, he needed to be their best fucking friend (find out their secrets & Vlads) and he needed to apprehend Vlad ASAP! Untraceable tactics? Tim scoffs, but the challenge excites him.

Arriving at WE, Tam looks ready to throw a knife his way (he reminds her that Pru does it better) and states that if Vlad Masters tries to make an appointment- accept it but give him the run around. Make an appointment and continue to contest it, change it, delay it until Tim is actually ready for him. The lights start to flicker, both of them notice it.

Everytime Tim gets a second to investigate Vlad in his office, the room's temperature drops. Tim notices it, and having experienced a number of supernatural phenomena, he knows it has to be related.

Tim decides not to beat around the bush. He comes back to the office that night equipped with a Ouija board, candles and a bag of other occult accessories. He quickly finds, upon setting up, that there is now a groaning Teenager in front of him- lambasting his efforts and chastizing him for taking a meeting with Vlad. Did he not get the fuckin memo??

Tim quickly begins to ask his questions, grateful to not have to deal with the party game board, and takes diligent notes.

"Right, so, you're just a concerned citizen ghost who knows what kind of nefarious deeds Vlad gets up to, how?" ---

Danny is losing his shit. Here he is, having done all the ground work to tell this guy not to meet with Vlad and he's already got him on the schedule! Danny took a page from Technus' book and transported himself alongside the short email. He didn't get this guy at all! Tim was like, basically the same age and clearly super fucking smart, why was he acting like this was a fucking birthday gift? Scratch that, the dude has a Ouija Board- it's like a lame ass birthday party in here!

Danny cannot help himself but return to the visible spectrum and give this guy a talking to- Which, the atmosphere of a birthday party still doesn't change, for ancient's sake this guy is taking notes with a megawatt smile! He's smiling! Danny just described Vlad taking down like, three American dynasties and the dude is nodding his head along gleefully.

Then suddenly, Danny realizes that he might be on the chopping block. Tim asks his first question and it's not about Vlad at all.

"Er, yeah. Just a concerned ghost citizen." Danny cringes.

"Right, and that's why you hacked into the Mayor of your town's email... Right Tucker?"

Danny blanches, not because the guy knew about Amity Park, but because apparently Tucker's online persona had been compromised. SHIT.

"Uh, I'm not Tucker." Danny attempts to lie- why was he so bad at lying again?!

"Of course you aren't, he's currently playing doomed, but it would have been smart to take the out I offered you. Do you want to tell me your name or do you want me to throw out another random guess? You should know that I've done my homework."

"...It's Danny."

"Certainly not Danny Fenton? Who is, sorry to say it, heir to DalvCo? The same one who totally doesn't have a school record of absences equivalent to well documented town hauntings?"

"Yep." Danny cringes, and giving up the goat, transforms back into his human self, "But seriously dude, you can't meet with Vlad. He'll just... take it all."

Tim blinks at him a few times, and his cheeks flush. Danny desperately tries to ignore that response as well as his own (he knows his ears are red, sue him).

"Right. Well, how would you like an internship? First order of business would be meeting with me and my PA Tam and helping us play ball." The guy has a feral grin. The grin kind of scares Danny, it definitely annoys him and a small part of him is curiously charmed.

"Dude you're not hearing me-" Danny tries before being cut off.

"Yeah yeah, supernatural bullshit is involved, Got that." Tim waves him off. Okay never mind, not charmed at all, Danny is completely annoyed.

"I swear to all the ancients-" Danny has to stop himself to calm down, "Dude consider yourself fucking haunted. I'm not helping you with a suicide mission to talk to the creep and I will be making your ass miserable for deciding to go down this path."

"Is that a promise?" Tim is basically batting his eyelashes at Danny and Danny is desperately trying to ignore that.

"Bet." And then he goes invisible.

"That's cute, pretending to leave me." Tim smirks and Danny can't help but let out an exasperated groan.

As it turns out, Tim is incredibly difficult to spook and his normal haunting methods are not fucking working. Has this guy just, like, seen every single horror movie?

----

Tim knows this is going to be fun, even if it means not going out as Red Robin for a while... Maybe he should get back into his night photography and give the guy a chance to enhance the creepiness of Gotham? Maybe start going to restaurants alone and get the guy to join him at a secluded two person table? Tim has plans on plans on plans.

#dcxdp #dp x dc #dc crossover #dp crossover #danny phantom #tim drake #is it a haunting if the guy being haunted dupes you into dating him? #braindead ship #timxdanny #lmao please take this somewhere. I beg. #tim who has been fear gased too many times and dealt with ras: ur haunting is so fkn cute omg #danny: please take my haunting seriously and reconsider meeting with vlad #vlad: stupid fucking teenagers overbooking their schedule #dc x dp #dpxdc

[ystrike1]

Since When Were You The Villain? - By Ecriture (7/10)

A mindless reincarnation story. Our protagonist is excited to leave her normal life behind to marry a Duke. She quickly slaps her abusive family, and she opens her arms, ready for her loving husband. Her brash, rude, excitement does catch his attention. His fake perfect mask comes off, to her dismay. His real love is much darker. Originally, she was just a marriage of convenience to him.

Sophie doesn't give one shite.

It's not subtle, but it is kinda funny.

Her average face is gone. Her dead end job is gone. She just has to marry her fiance and be happy. It's much easier than her previous life. Our protagonist is also a HUGE romance novel fan, so she's happy to play the game. Her old life was depressing, and she wants it all. The maids. The love. The handsome man.

It's easy for overworked women to understand her somewhat twisted logic and acceptance.

Sophie's situation is somewhat easy! She's skinny, pretty...and an unwanted daughter. Her father remarried. So her family is abusive. They see her as dead weight that exists to be married off. So they basically sold her to a high ranking man who hasn't even met her. She doesn't even know what he looks like...and the letters they exchange aren't exactly warm.

The original Sophie was wary, and deeply depressed. She had been abandoned by her family years ago, and she did not trust her invisible fiance.

New Sophie knows her mystery fiance is actually an ideal man! Every Male Protagonist is the same, after all!!!

Right!!!!!?????

The ML is only allowed to have rough edges. He has to be the perfect husband under that!!!!!!

She's excited to leave her family behind and get married, which is nice because so many stories are about hating/avoiding/delying/faking marriage.

She just wants the real thing.

She's ready to show off her power!!!!

Girlboss time!

The old Sophie was emotionally damaged. Destroyed by years of abuse since her childhood. New Sophie knows she's been married off to somebody POWERFUL! FOR $.

Which means her fiance isn't some pushover, and it's likely that her awful family is in need of money/unstable.

She sees her abusers as what they are.

Weak cowards who only know how to hiss and lie.

When a maid serves her low quality food she doesn't waste a second.

Why?

Well, it's the olden days.

Her new rich husband already owns her.

The maids/her family can't beat her up.

They can't chase her out.

If the Duke shows up with his men, and his bride is gone/in a coma he can legally prosecute the family. Which they probably can't afford.

Sophie had a hard life.

New Sophie happily takes revenge in her stead.

The Duke, Killian, isn't a nice guy. He's a criminal who wears a mask sometimes. He also needed a puppet wife, which is why he purchased Sophie. He intended to leave her in his castle alone basically forever after having one kid with her or something. He specifically chose a mousy, unwanted woman who would not betray him or run back to her family.

He wants to run his giant criminal enterprise freely, and being an unmarried man in the olden days makes you look....suspicious.

His first impression of Sophie was good and bad. He thought she was boring, depressed, and skittish. Unlikely to fall for him. Unlikely to bother him. Unlikely to risk death to expose his deep corruption. She was the perfect wife for him.

When he arrives he finds a flirtatious and happy strumpet, ready for matrimonial bliss.

She kinda sweeps him off his feet.

His love is not what she expects.

He comes to see her at night, covered in blood. As his feelings deepen more blood flies. I didn’t read the novel spoilers but he is a yandere.

#yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #recommendations #recs #rec #recommended #webtoon #Since When Were You The Villain?

[weyounthevorta]

For @femalehumanoid, who hoped I would write dating profiles for Harriman Gray and the Captain. Here you are my dear. Your wish is my command.

The rest of the Combs characters have had their profiles beefed up a bit as well, with my own spicy take on what it’d be like to be in a relationship with them, and what their ideal date looks like.

Fair warning, some of the descriptions below may be a bit nsfw!

Thy’lek Shran (Star Trek Enterprise)

Pros: Strong sense of justice, good at what he does, sexy, energetic. He’ll fight for what’s right and he’ll protect you with his life. He has a soft side and he’s not afraid to show it.‬

Cons: Hotheaded, a bit rash.

A relationship with him means you’re in it for the long haul. If Shran gets emotionally invested in you, he’s thinking of you as a potential long term mate and possibly as marriage material. He’s a physical being, so he’d be disappointed if there wasn’t a very strong sexual attraction between the two of you.

His idea of a good date involves a good workout. He’s taking you rock climbing, to the gym to be his sparring partner, or to a firing range. You’ll get a good deal of aggression out during the first round of physical activity, and an even greater amount of passion out during the next round. If the date doesn’t end with the two of you naked, drenched in sweat, and fighting to catch your breath on the floor of his quarters, he considers there to be room for improvement.

Anton Mordrid (Doctor Mordrid)

Pros: Fights evil, lives a quiet life. Financially stable. Has a romantic streak. Is an all around sweet guy who will bring you breakfast in bed and read to you. He teaches you wizardry.

Cons: Absolutely tragic sense of style. He may need to leave on interdimentional missions on short notice.

A relationship with him would provide stability and a quiet comfort that few can boast. He’s got boundless knowledge to share with you on countless subjects, and if you love to learn, you’ll love having such a patient, enthusiastic teacher. His favorite part of the day is slipping from his street clothes into his comfies, settling in with hot coffee and a book, and reading to you in his deliciously soft voice. Every time you two retire to the bedroom, you rediscover another subject he has seemingly unlimited knowledge in. He never fails to bring you to completion, stroking your back and murmuring praise as you come down from your peak.

His idea of a good date is a night in with a warm beverage and stimulating conversation. He’s a bit old fashioned, so he doesn’t get intimate until the two of you commit to being exclusive. In the mean time, he’s happy to conclude a date with a sensual over the clothes massage and a steamy makeout session.

Chaz (Dead Man Walking)

Pros: Is objectively very cute. He’d risk his life for yours without question. He works past his fear to achieve his goals. No doubt a snuggler big on showing affection.

Cons: Is a bit whiney, possibly has the plague. Tragic taste in nicknames.

A relationship with him means he has your back, no matter what. He’s the first to come to your defense, the first to jump in when you need help, and he’ll walk through fire to make sure you’re alright. He may complain on the surface, but deep down he’s proud to be needed. He’s small and fragile, so he’d be happiest if you reciprocated, coming to his defense when he needs it, and offering protection when he’s scared or feeling vulnerable.

His idea of a good date is hanging out somewhere clean and safe. He prefers it if you’d come over to his humble lodging and play a board game, play cards, or listen to music together with a glass of wine. He’ll happily have sex with you if you’re the one to initiate it. He thoroughly enjoys it when his partner tops, preferring to be entirely submissive in bed.

Crawford Tillinghast (From Beyond)

Pros: Brilliant scientist and inventor. Submissive and sweet. Romance with him would be chaste and old fashioned. He’d do his best to keep you safe. Cute little guy in a big sweater.

Cons: Sexually repressed. A bad luck magnet. Despite his best efforts, trouble finds him.

A relationship with him would be sweet and oh so charming. He’d show up on your doorstep, holding a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of wine, and would be content to snuggle on the sofa under a cozy blanket, watching a movie. He’d look at you with his big green eyes, delighted to hear stories about your day, thrilled to tell you all about what he’s working on. Every time the two of you make love, it’s slow and sensual, him looking at you in awe, enraptured and in love. He’s a sexual novice, but his sweet naïveté has an allure you can’t deny.

His idea of a good date is the kind of corny romance you typically see in movies. Carriage rides through the park. Moonlit walks on the beach. Getting serenaded by the violinist at an Italian restaurant. But the way his face softens when you’re happy, the way he lights up when you’re excited, the way he looks at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, make these dates magical. More than the activities do.

Harriman Gray (Babylon 5, S01E17)

Pros: He’s honorable, ambitious, and gorgeous. He has a wholesome sense of humor. He can use his telepathic abilities to his advantage in bed. He’ll hear your mind when you enjoy something he does, making him the best lover you could imagine.

Cons: He’s on the timid side, which allows stronger personalities to railroad his. He’s not always the most tactful. He tries his best not to invade your privacy with his telepathy but he slips sometimes, opening the door for awkward discoveries.

A relationship with him would require patience, but would be well worth it. He travels a lot for work. When you do see him, he’s very affectionate. He wants to spend all day with you under the warm bedcovers stroking your hair, tangling your limbs together, and sharing stories about your respective days.

His idea of a good date is a romantic candlelight dinner followed up with hours of mind blowing sex, after which you both collapse bonelessly into sleep. The date concludes with him waking you up with breakfast in bed, his hair combed back, in full uniform, carrying your tray, which he’s decorated with a single rose. He leaves you for work with a kiss and a promise to see you again soon.

Andrew Paris (Phantom Empire)

Pros: Strong sex appeal. Wears the tightest pants in existence. He wouldn’t object to spontaneous adventures. He’s impulsive and quirky.

Cons: Anyone who flirts with him is a legit threat. He’s a slutty little strumpet. He’s not secure enough to think anyone would like him for his mind.

A relationship with him would be focused heavily on physical exploration. He’s aware that he’s charismatic and magnetic, and he’s aware that he’s attractive. Part of him wonders if you just want a pretty boy toy, and he’s equal parts happy to fulfill that role and disappointed that people don’t often see the potential for more in him, given he’s an egg head, studying archeology at Miskatonic University.

His idea of a good date is finding a fun bar to check out. Dive bars, sports bars, tiki bars, and local watering holes wherever he travels all amuse him, and he wants to explore them with you. He’d love to end the date with playful, enthusiastic, energetic sex. He has boundless stamina, and wants you desperate for more of what he has to offer in that department.

Bill Knight (Felony)

Pros: Handsome, charismatic crime fighter. Eager to hop in bed with you if you show a smidgeon of kindness toward him. He whimpers very prettily. He’s quick and agile.

Cons: He is a total hazard. You’re in the line of fire if you hang with him. He may break into your house. He’s flown through an absurd number of windows.

A relationship with him would be interesting. He’s persistent. He gets a trifle obsessive about getting what he wants, and what he wants from you is entirely unclear. He may push you outside your comfort zone frequently. Whether that be recruiting you to help him with an FBI case or the fact that you’re only dating because he broke into your house looking for a place to hide and you didn’t have the heart to kick him out.

His idea of a good date may be unconventional or unexpected. He may want to stay in and make love in front of a roaring fire, or he may be in the mood to get beers and chicken wings at the local strip club. The more adventure you’re down with, the more he’ll indulge in with you.

D-Day (Fortress)

Pros: Adorable, good with machines. There’s kindness in him. He will risk his life for his friends. He’s a little guy with a big heart.

Cons: He is easily led into dangerous situations. He needs a dentist. Hes in jail.

A relationship with him, while he’s in prison, would consist of letter writing and conjugal visits. He’d write to you like he’s writing diary entries. He’d tell you about his plans, his dreams, his fears, and his fantasies. He’d look for the mail cart every day, wide eyed and hopeful, and his heart would swell when he finally receives one in return from you. He’d read your letters over and over, imagining he could smell you on the paper. When you came for your bi-annual visits, he’d be so excited he’d be shaking like a leaf, stealing glances up at you shyly. When you were intimate, you’d always marvel afresh at how beautiful his eyes are when you gently remove his glasses from his face. He’d take his time gently and tentatively worshiping every inch of you as you made love. Big, wet tears would stream down his face and heart-rending, whimpering sobs would make his small chest heave as you left him behind again in Fortress prison.

His idea of a good date is heartbreaking in its simplicity. When he gets out of prison, he wants to take you on a real date. Dinner and a movie. He wants to walk you to your door at the end of the evening and, if you want to, kiss each other goodbye.

Weyoun (Star Trek Deep Space 9)

Pros: Ethereal. Obscenely sexy. Knows what he wants and how to get it. If he chooses to be devoted to you, he’ll be loyal unto death. Loves to have fun, loves to explore new things, and loves to tease. Kinky.

Cons: Religious nut. Can’t appreciate art, food, and many simple pleasures. Manipulative.

A relationship with him would likely be largely secret. He wouldn’t want you seen as a vulnerability or weakness. He also wouldn’t want to give the Founders the impression that he wasn’t focused enough on his work. You’d have clandestine meetings. Hurried make out sessions in dark, quiet places. Impromptu, fully clothed, frantic sex against a wall in a quiet corridor. Fingers meeting and intertwining under a conference table. If you’re not careful, you can become his obsession, and he may have a crisis of conscience if he believes he’s worshiping you more than he worships the Founders.

His idea of a good date is sharing a love of play. He adores games, and loves making jokes at people’s expense. He may take you to try a food you’ve both never sampled before, so you can enjoy discovering the new textures and new tastes respectively, followed by gaming tables and some good people watching.

John Reilly (Castle Freak)

Pros: Handsome DILF. He wants to improve his life. Repentant of his sins, affectionate.

Cons: Touch starved, desperate, directionless, alcoholic, and when he falls off the wagon he falls all the way off. He also comes from a family of lunatics so there’s that.

A relationship with him, if you’re lucky, is during a sober period. If it is, you can expect plenty of quiet evenings at home. Him reading a book or grading term papers while you busy yourself with your own tasks or hobbies. You may go to a play on a Friday night that the drama department is showing. You’d go to bed together, have enthusiastic but unimaginative sex, and spoon each other to sleep.

His idea of a good date would be dinner at a favorite restaurant. He needs your support staying away from the drink menu. It’s a great date if it ends in a makeout session during your after dinner walk, you wearing his tweed jacket over your shoulders, and him holding your hand.

James Wilkins (Hunter S07E13)

Pros: Sensual as fuck. He can’t keep his hands off you. Life with him would be a roller coaster ride of sex and danger. He’s the sexiest kind of bad boy. Think tattoos, leather, fast cars, and adrenaline.

Cons: He’s a thief and a murderer. He’s not interested in redemption or in getting his act together. He’s attracted to women more dangerous than he is.

A relationship with him would be mercurial. He’d darken your door and you’d be swept off your feet by his charms, swept up into his latest scheme, and swept into bed. Then when he leaves you can go long stretches without hearing from him. Left to your own devices indefinitely, waiting for him to roar back up your driveway in his black convertible like a summer cyclone.

His idea of a good date would be a trip to a race track or casino. He’d want you both to dress in your finest and act like high rollers for an evening. Gambling, drinking, winning, losing, and topping off the evening with plenty of energetic and inventive sex.

Captain (Spoiler)

Pros: If you’re a masochist, the Captain is the man for you. Sexy and dominant, the Captain will happily tie you down and mercilessly overstimulate you until you’re a mewling puddle.

Cons: Sadistic, obsessive, controlling, and aggressive. He enjoys intimidating his object of focus, and wouldn’t be above getting off on keeping you constantly on your toes.

A relationship with him would be like navigating very treacherous waters. One minute he’s running a gloved hand down your face and calling you his good little pet, the next he’s viciously backhanding you for any number of perceived grievances. You wouldn’t know whether he loved you or merely tolerated you.

His idea of a good date would be to take you to a dark, smoky jazz club. He’d sip a whisky neat, smoke a cigarette, and give you a smoldering gaze across the table as you talked. He’d want to dance with you, his body pressed as close to yours as possible, enjoying the sultry music as he moves seductively against you. The date would conclude sweaty and breathless after he’d given you a dizzying sample of his BDSM proclivities, his strong hands threaded through your hair in an iron grip as he asks you if you liked it, and if you’d like to experience more.

Milton Dammers (The Frighteners)

Pros: Once upon a time he was probably a sweet guy. He wants to rid the world of evil so desperately that he’s sacrificed his own sanity to do it.

Cons: He’s a broken man. He’s completely lost his grip on reality. He’s scarred, scared, troubled, and no you can’t fix him.

A relationship with him would be challenging. He has a lot of deprogramming he needs to complete before it could be a safe partnership for either of you. You’d be tasked with being his unofficial therapist, a shoulder to sob into, and you would need to be merciful and patient as you gently work him past his nonsensical ramblings and bouts of paranoia. If he’s ever intimate with you, it means he’s reached a point in your relationship where he trusts you implicitly. If that trust is ever broken in the smallest degree in any way, you’ll never regain it.

His idea of a good date would be quiet. He’d take you to a rooftop to stand at the edge, observing the city and the stars side by side. There’d be no physical contact. He may or may not share why he’d rather not hold hands. He’d be happy if you’d just consent to be there with him and help his mind find peace.

Herbert West (Reanimator)

Pros: Definitely handsome. On some level he wants to do something great for humankind. He’s capable of affection in his own bizzare way. Life with him would certainly never be dull. Despite his abrasiveness he’s got an undeniable magnetism.

Cons: Morals? Never heard of ‘em. Healthy boundaries are a non starter. His definition of intimacy likely won’t be aligned with yours. He will latch onto you like the codependent, murderous, evil little gremlin he is until one or both of you is dead or in jail.

A relationship with him, to an outside observer, may not look like a relationship at all. Unless of course the observer looked very closely and had a good benchmark for how he treats everyone else. They may spy him gripping your arm or reaching for you when he’s nervous or frightened. They’d perhaps notice him wanting to involve you in parts of his life he turns other people away from. They may notice that he lives with you, if he ever ventures out of your basement. But there would be no dates as folks commonly think of them, and there would be no observable PDA.

His idea of a good date would be an entire evening, well into the wee hours, working by your side. Few words may be spoken, mostly notes said aloud by him to be jotted down by you. But this is his happy place. Doing what he loves with someone he trusts. And he’d never say it aloud, but he wants you there with him, and he wants you to want to be there with him too.

#jeffrey combs #commander shran #shran #star trek enterprise #star trek #anton mordrid #doctor mordrid #chaz #dead man walking #crawford tillinghast #from beyond 1986 #Harriman Gray #babylon 5 #andrew paris #phantom empire 1988 #bill knight #felony 1994 #d day #fortress 1992 #weyoun #star trek ds9 #john reilly #castle freak #James Wilkins #spoiler movie #the captain #milton dammers #herbert west #reanimator #imaginings

[bjurnberg]

So I wanna share the first bit of this fic with y’all cuz I love writing it - it makes me laugh so hard. I’m just struggling to write a middle section and need motivation, so if you’ve got questions or praise lay it on me.

Summary: Hal Jordan starts making bets that he can win a kiss from Bruce Wayne at the next Heroes Gala. Batman takes that bet.

Win a Kiss, Lose Your Pride

“Wayne Enterprises holds a Heroes Gala every year celebrating the Justice League. This doubles as a charity event to raise money for destroyed property and small local business. The five of us will be in charge of making sure all other League members that choose to attend will behave according to the standards -”

“Who do you think is gonna get first kiss of the night?” Green Lantern interrupted.

“First kiss?” Superman asked with a frown, lowering his notes.

“Yeah! It’s always mentioned in the tabloids after a Wayne Event - someone tries to corner Bruce Wayne and get his first kiss of the evening. Not that he’s hard to corner, the guy seems happy enough dishing it out, ya know?”

Diana laughed and Flash was trying not to wheeze.

“We should get back on topic,” Superman said with a nervous cough, shuffling the guest list in front of him.

“Oh come on! This is boring! We’ve been to these parties before, we know what to expect, why not have a little gossip? Maybe take bets! Let’s have some fun!” He turned to Flash. “Who do you think is gonna drag Old Brucie into a dark corner first?”

Flash gave a nervous chuckle, his eyes flicking to Batman before focusing squarely on the table, covering his mouth.

The Green Lantern scoffed. “Bats?! No way, he never even goes to these things, let alone knows how to have fun.”

Batman continued to read through the guest list and itinerary, making no indication he was listening.

“I didn’t say anything,” Flash mumbled.

Diana leaned forward, smiling wickedly, “And what kind of bets are you interested in? It’s not very fun if we’re just guessing which millionaire’s daughter will assault him trying to get engaged. Let’s make this a competition.”

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Hal slammed his palm on the table. “See guys? Diana knows how to have fun! What’re the rules?”

“Please stop,” Superman rubbed at his temples.

“I propose a game of flirtations,” Wonder Woman sat back in her chair, folding her arms. Her smile only grew as Flash and Superman groaned. “We cannot be the one to initiate a kiss - he must choose. But it doesn’t matter who else steals a kiss, just which of us he chooses first.”

“Oh-ho-ho, I am ALL in. Who else is playing?” Hal looked around the table. “Supes?”

“Oh no! Count me out!”

“Ah come on! You’re such a boyscout!”

“I’m not interested.”

“That’s not what you told me last month. You think he’s cute.”

Superman buried his face in his hands. That didn’t stop them all seeing the crimson blush reach his hairline. “Just because I can admit he’s handsome does not mean I want to kiss him.”

“Publicly,” Diana tacked on.

“Rao take me,” he whispered, and stood. “I’m going to get some water. I expect to return to a proper meeting where we can focus on the task at hand.”

“I’ll join you,” Flash squeaked, jumping up and slipping out the door.

“Cowards!” Hal yelled after them. Then focused on Batman, who hadn’t moved. “Why not come to the party for once, Bats? I know you’re a vampire and all, but it’s after dark and you’ve got an invitation. Live a little in your afterlife!”

“I don’t enjoy galas.”

“Maybe you would if you got to kiss a cutie like Brucie.” Green Lantern leaned forward, forearms on the table. “Maybe a little competition will get that blood flowing again.”

“If I come to the gala will you stop talking?” he asked in his usual deadpan voice.

“Yes.”

That finally got Batman to look up from his reading. Hal grinned in triumph.

“If you win the bet - that’ll be your prize. I won’t talk to you for a whole month.”

Batman tilted his head, birdlike. It gave the impression of narrowed eyes and a raised eyebrow, though neither could be seen under the cowl.

“Make it three.”

“One month for showing up. Three if you get the kiss.”

“Deal.”

Hal Jordan whooped, throwing his fists in the air. “This is gonna be the best party ever! Diana! What do you want if you win?”

“Oh, the kiss will be prize enough. Bruce Wayne is an excellent kisser.”

“Reeeallly... when have you smooched him before?”

Wonder Woman looked smug, “Maybe I’ll tell you after the gala. And what of your prize, Green Lantern?” she asked. “What do you wish for?”

“How about... since you’re not asking anything from me, I’ll get something from Bats.”

“You just might,” Diana whispered.

Hal turned to Batman, folding his arms and looking very pleased with himself.

“If I win I wanna know your identity.”

Batman went still.

“Come on! Everyone else at this table knows who you are!”

“That’s because it was vital in the moment. Civilian IDs were the only way to escape the Thanagarian invasion.”

“Which I wasn’t around for. But now I’m the only one who doesn’t -”

“Most of the Justice League doesn’t know who I am and I intend to keep it that way.”

“I’m not talkin’ ‘bout unmasking in front of the whole Watchtower, just me!”

“Pick something else.”

“No.”

“Batman,” Wonder Woman interposed. Both men looked at her. “Are you saying you can’t confidently deduce who Bruce Wayne will choose to kiss that night?”

The room almost seemed to darken under Batman’s grimace.

“Fine.”

Hal guffawed, falling back in his chair. “Great!! See you Saturday!!”

#bjurnberg #my writing #my fic #BruHal #batlantern #batman #green lantern #romcom fic

[bullet-prooflove]

Crazy, Fucked Up Kind of Love - Alexander 'Tig' Trager x Reader

Tagging: @mortal--soul @yourwinchesterbros @buddinglinguist @spookyboogyuniverse @nessamc @thanossexual @anime-weeb-4-life @redpoodlern @ravencrow83 @nu1freakshow @the-wandering-lunatic @lexondeck @keyweegirlie @theplacewhereallthedemonsgo @poppyrose33 @belovedbastardremus @trublu2u @thebaileybugle @spngingerbread21 @tragerlover @yvette22 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @proceduralpassion @crazy4chickennuggets @callsignartemis @kmc1989

Tig finds the pregnancy test entirely by accident.

He returns a day early from the trip he took up to Santo Padre to discuss some business with Bishop Losa and his crew. That chapter of the Mayans are looking at getting out of the drugs game and moving towards more legitimate enterprises. It’s been a successful endeavour within the Sons so far and Bishop had wanted to pick his brain.It was meant to be a three-day thing, but they’d ended up covering everything they needed in two. He had been eager to get home because he hated being away from you for too long.

It’s when he’s washing his hands in the bathroom sink that he finds the white stick. The blue cross glares at him as he picks it up and studies it intently. He thinks he knows what it means but he goes through the bin and finds the packaging just to be sure.

Positive.

You’re having a baby.

His baby.

He’s going to be a father again at 50.

He doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry because a couple of months ago he got a vasectomy because the two of you had decided not to have kids. He’d taken a lot of shit off the guys about getting neutered, but it had been worth it because it meant you could come off your birth control. It had been fucking with your hormones and shit, messing with your mental health…

Tig thinks he can pinpoint the night that the baby was conceived. There was a small gap, just a tiny one between him getting the ‘all clear’ and you tossing away the birth control. He remembers the taste of wine on your lips, the music you had on in the kitchen when he went down on you, how he’d fucked you on the kitchen table because you in those pyjama shorts…

…it made him hard just thinking about it.

He carries the stick with him into the bedroom, setting it down upon the nightstand. He knows that you didn’t leave it for him to find on purpose. He can tell you were in a rush this morning, that you didn’t have your shit together. There’s a couple of shirts thrown onto the bed, and you’ve left the lid off your moisturiser. He sighs before returning the clothing to the wardrobe and resealing the container. He can’t imagine what must be going through your mind right now, you’ve just started to get back on track after everything that had happened with Clay.

When he thinks about that, about what almost happened, his heart feels like it’s being ripped out of his chest. If Clay had been successful, Tig would have lost both the woman he loved and his child. It would have completely destroyed him.

The thing is he wants this baby.

His first marriage to Colleen was an absolute shit show, he’d walked out on it by the time Fawn was five years old because he knew that both the girls were better off without him. He knows he can do better this time.

This baby would be born out of love. A crazy, fucked up kind of love but love no less.

Love Tig? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#tig soa #tig trager fanfic #tiggy #tig trager x reader #tig trager #alexander trager #alexander trager soa #alexander trager x you #alexander trager x reader

[writebackatya]

Gandra: {reading over a over a piece of paper Dewey gave her before looking Dewey dead in the eye} …No.

Dewey: No to what? There’s a lot of great ideas there and I cannot imagine you saying no to any one of them

Gandra: That’s because I’m saying no to all of them.

Gandra: {looks back to the paper} No, I will not replace your right leg with a robotic one so you can “have a robot body part like mom but if that’s ripping off her style then maybe a robot arm”. I’m not going to replace either of your eyeballs with a “cool cyborg one that does whatever yours does as well as record cinematic quality video, stream stuff, and play games if yours doesn’t already do that” And no, I am not putting nanites in your body so you can you “shoot lightning because A. It would look cool. B. Can be very convenient if we ever lost power at the mansion and if I ever needed to charge my phone. C. Adventure reasons. D. I have the perfect idea on how I’d work it into my entrance for my web show ‘Dewey Dew-Night’”.

Dewey: Oh come on! Why not!? You have most of those things! Unless your eyes aren’t really cyborg eyes and are possibly just like some kind of techy contact lenses then I’ll settle for those instead!

Gandra: …Look kid, I’m pretty sure everything you’re asking for here is waaay out of your price range.

Dewey: Oh, I’d have to pay for all this? I just figured since you are on our side now this would be on the house

Gandra: Oh yeah let me just go ahead and dip into my enterprise’s funds and spend a whole bunch of time and money performing surgery on my boyfriend’s boss’s 12 year old grandnephew so can he can turn himself into an android and be just like mommy.

Dewey: An An-Dewey-roid!

Gandra: No.

#this would be their dynamic and you can’t tell me otherwise #incorrect ducktales quotes #incorrect ducktales #incorrect ducktales 2017 #gandra dee #dewey duck #ducktales 2017 #ducktales #ducktales fandom

[dalekofchaos]

Context for each choices

Choice 1 context. Basically Owlman, but instead of Bruce dying with Thomas and Martha, this is a Thomas who lived in a boarding school and upon hearing of the death of his parents, Thomas begins to plot his revenge. When he gets his hands on Joe Chill, he realizes there is no point because Chill is a product of his environment. He embraces crime and the insanity of Arkham. He sees his brother as a threat. The way he wastes his family's fortune to fix something that cannot be fixed. So he begins the plan to slowly dismantle everything Bruce has built. Bankrupting Wayne Enterprises, flooding Gotham with a crime wave that the city has never witnessed and when Bruce sees his city in ruins, all his progress and his Batfamily in ruins, then Thomas will kill his brother and take his place as the king of Gotham

Choice 2 Context. Damian is the Arkham Knight. Talia talked about Bruce and Talia’s night in Metropolis. So you could have a tease for Damian there. But Ra’s raised Damian and indoctrinated him. This is a Damian without Bruce’s influence and was raised to believe that Bruce is responsible for his mother’s death and together Ra’s and Damian will fulfill the LOA’s destiny. Everything leading up to learning his identity is the same(though Arkham Knight uses a sword and throwing stars instead of guns) When the mask comes off, Batman is confused due to how much he looks like him. Damian explains that he is the son of Bruce Wayne and Talia Al Ghul. Damian blames him for the death of his mother and Ra’s Al Ghul. But if Ra’s is alive via the season of Infamy DLC. Work it into the story. Say Damian is working with Ra’s similar to how Hugo Strange was working with Ra’s. Damian names himself after the place his family died and now he wants his father dead. There’d be more emotional impact and would have made more sense than trying to convince viewers that Jason was Robin in this continuity.

Choice 3 context The Arkham Knight should have just been a symbolic title and ya know, ACTUALLY focus on the villains teaming up. The Gotham Rogues teaming up is the main threat. The reveal of the Arkham Knight being a re-skin of the Red Hood has been talked about to death. What hasn’t been talked about as much is the missed opportunity of having a game where Batman has to deal with the ramifications of the Joker’s death. Arkham Knight opens with Commissioner Gordon talking about how Gotham braced itself for the inevitable power struggle that never came. But what if it had? Instead of pushing some of Batman’s greatest villains into a few side-quests (that all played basically the same), the game’s story could have focused on the Bat Family as it fights to save Gotham. Players could have swapped between the best of Batman’s team as they tackle missions all over Gotham, the Asylum, and Arkham City. Areas visible in the game but not accessible. This would have allowed the story of the Arkham games to come full circle as players would have traveled back to locations previously seen and explored them with the changes made as the story for the games went on. Plus it would finally give all the members of the Bat Family a chance to spread their wings. We needed to see Scarecrow, Harley, Ivy, Penguin, Hush, Riddler and Two-Face work together as major threats and we needed to see Bruce and his family(Dick, Tim, Kate, Cassandra and Stephanie) work together to stop them and honestly that would’ve been so much better.

Choice 4 context.

Arkham Knight is Protocol 12. Hugo Strange works for Ra’s, but however, Let’s pay attention to this. From Quincy Sharp, he says “Strange came to me back at the asylum. He told me he had friends; powerful friends. The sort of people who could make things happen. All I had to do was turn a blind eye to his experiments, and work on my campaign. He said his friends would ensure that I won" In Strange’s confrontation with Batman. “ I have powerful friends, Batman. This is just the beginning.“ Now if you’ve watched Justice League Unlimited, you will know that Hugo Strange is a Departmental head of Project CADMUS. So What if In the Arkhamverse, Strange is still apart of Project CADMUS. While Ra’’s was the mastermind, the Arkham City project was planned by CADMUS as a start to take down Batman and Gotham, but a start to bring down the Justice League. The Arkham Knight would be Strange’s and CADMUS’ last fail safe to bring an end to Batman. The identity is not important. All we need to know is it is a CADMUS experiment and Strange’s last trump card against Batman. The Arkham Knight should have been it’s own character and not a copout to make him Jason Todd and there was so much lost potential.

Choice 5 context.

Jeremiah Arkham is the Arkham Knight. In Arkham Asylum, Quincy Sharp believed himself to be the Spirit of Amadeus Arkham. This could simply be Sharp being the zealous warden that he was but it could have set up something else. What if Jeremiah Arkham was the REAL reincarnation of Amadeus Arkham? He shares a similar story already, treating mentally unwell patients until it drove him insane. Instead of becoming the next Black Mask, he could have become the purifier of evil that Quincy Sharp tried to be: the Arkham Knight.

Choice 6 context

In Arkham City it is heavily teased that Joker and Harley had a baby. Before anyone comments about Harley’s revenge, that was actually unpopular with the fandom, so it could’ve been retconned. From a comment I found on the Arkham reddit.  “The game begins the traditional way where you lead a character around but can’t perform any actions. You control Harley who’s in shock after Joker’s death and hasn’t spoken a work since. You control her as she’s being escorted into Blackgate staying true to the prison opening setting of all the games. Joker’s death sends shockwaves across Gotham. Soon enough, her thugs break her out and they arrive at an abandoned warehouse where Harley walks in alone, she opens a shipping container and a kidnapped nurse from Arkham City walks out and pleads with her to let her go, telling her she’s done all they’ve asked. Harley agrees that she has but says that no one can know about their child yet, she shoots the nurse and the shot wakes a baby inside the container, Harley then picks it up and sings it the lullaby we hear in the Arkham City end credits. Cut to black.

But what if it isn't just one kid? What if it's twins? Lucy Quinn and Jack Quinn.

15 years later. Harley Quinn and the Arkham Knight gathers the rogues gallery. Scarecrow, Hush, Poison Ivy, The Riddler, Two-Face and The Penguin all working together to take down the Bat and make Gotham theirs. The difference is the rogues would not be used in side missions exclusively. They would work in the story mandatory similar to how Spider-Man PS4′s villains worked in the main story and we take them down one by one.

Jack will be the Arkham Knight, while Lucy infiltrates Wayne Enterprises as Lucy White and gains the trust of Bruce Wayne and allows herself to be taken hostage because Harley knows Bruce cannot allow an "innocent" be harmed and in the climax, Lucy will show her true colors and knock out Batman. Like in the climax of Arkham Knight, Bruce is taken to Arkham Asylum where this all started. But it's Harley, Jack and Lucy. They reveal the truth. Joker and Harley's children are here to avenge their father. Tim and Cassandra come to the rescue and defeat Jack and Lucy, while Bruce knocks Harley out. Arkham Knight ends with Bruce retiring and becoming Mayor of Gotham, while Tim, Dick and Cassandra would watch over Gotham

#DC #Batman #Arkhamverse #The Arkham Knight #Owlman #THomas Wayne Jr #Damian Wayne #Bruce Wayne #Dick Grayson #Tim Drake #Cassandra Cain #Stephanie Brown #Barbara Gordon #Kate Kane #Batfamily #Hugo Strange #Cadmus #Jeremiah Arkham #The Joker #Harley Quinn #Lucy Quinn #Jarley #Joker x Harley

[make-me-imagine]

Truth or Dare: Part One

(Part Two)

Plot: During a nostalgic game of Truth or Dare, Malcolm and Y/n realize there is more to their feelings for each other than just friendship.

Pairing: Malcolm Reed x Gn!Reader (Use of Y/n)

Written for @fandomdancer as a fic commission on my Ko-fi

Warnings: A couple mildly suggestive comments and scenes

A/n: The referenced "Southern pear salad" is pear halves with mayo, cheddar cheese, and maraschino cherries (and sometimes lettuce)

Words: 2k

----

You let out a soft sigh as the only sound heard in the room was the sound of the rubber ball Trip was bouncing off the wall again and again.

Staring at your shoes, you felt restless, but knew there was nothing to do, even as an engineer. The Enterprise was stuck in a storm that shut down the ship. Everything except life support and basic operations was down.

There was no work to be done, nothing that could be done, so you were all just waiting for the storm to pass. It had been three days, but it felt like three years. The pent up boredom was getting to you all as you sat around.

Trip finally let out a frustrated sigh as he leaned forward at the table "I'm gonna go crazy if I don't find something to do."

"Go for a run" Malcolm suggested as he sat nearby flipping through a manual.

Trip gave him a side-eyed look that told everyone exactly how he felt about that.

"Yeahhh, no. Let's play a game" He said instead as he turned towards you and Hoshi.

"Oh no." "No way."

The two of you spoke at once, as you shook your heads fervently.

"I'm not saying we play Monopoly again!" Trip defended himself as the tension rose in the room at the memory of how that went.

"Or Uno." Hoshi added.

"Or Life." Travis spoke up from nearby.

"Or even Scrabble, you guys really do need to tone down the competitiveness." You said as you looked between Trip, Malcolm and Travis.

"We aren't that bad!" Trip said with a chuckle.

You rose your brow "Yeah? Tell that to Captain Archers table."

An awkward air fell over the three men as they went silent recalling the previous nights incident.

"Okay, then a game that's not a card game or a board game." Travis suggested.

"And what would that be?" You asked as you looked back at him, as he went silent, unable to think of anything.

After another moment Trip spoke up with an excited tone "Hey, I got it!" he smacked his hand on the table, causing the rest of you to look over at him. "Truth or Dare!"

You and Hoshi shared a look as Malcolm snickered "What are we High Schoolers?"

"Oh come on, it'll be fun!" Trip defended "Come over here, all of you, come on!" He said with a newfound excitement in his voice.

You smiled and let out a soft chuckle as Malcolm and Travis slowly and reluctantly came over.

As you all sat around the same table Hoshi shook her head "I haven't played truth or dare since I was a kid."

"Well, let's be kids again then, for old times sake." Trip said with his familiar grin.

You and Malcolm locked eyes for a moment as you shared the same amused smile.

"Okay, I'll go first, get the ball rollin'" He looked around at all of you and you suddenly felt a sense of nervousness wash over you.

Exactly what kind of questions would he ask, and what kind of dares would he give?

His eyes locked with Travis "Travis. Truth or Dare?"

Travis swallowed as he sat up a it "Alright, uh, truth" He said with a slightly anxious tone to his voice.

"Oh, a truth on the first go, brave man." Malcolm said, a hint of teasing in his voice making you smirk.

"Alright, truth." Trip leaned forward, a small smile on his face "You ever gonna ask that cute communications officer on a date?"

Travis's eye's got a bit wider as you held back a grin. "Uh. Wh- what, who?" He chuckled nervously .

"Oh come on Travis." you began "Hannah. Your crush on her isn't exactly subtle."

He looked at you with terror as he swallowed, looking between the rest of them, they all nodded, confirming what you said. He let out a sigh as he closed his eyes.

"So?" Trip asked

"I don't know, maybe?" He said with an exasperated voice.

You smile and shook your head, feeling a bit bad or him. The others encouraged him a bit before everyone moved on, giving Travis his turn in the game.

Looking at you he smiled "Y/n, truth or dare?"

"Dare." You said easily, causing the others to 'ooh' like children.

You rolled your eyes. You weren't that worried, Travis didn't have it in him to give you a dare that you'd hate.

"I dare you to eat that southern pear salad Rollins made!"

You felt your stomach twist at the thought of the lieutenants "old family favorite" that he made for dinner.

Malcolm hissed under his breath knowing how much you would rather not.

Not wanting to back down at the first dare, you took in a breath as you backed out of your chair "Fine."

"Really?" Hoshi said with a sneer as she too thought of the unusual dish.

After a few deep breaths and a lot of water, you had finished your "dessert" and were now half way through the game of truth or dare. After Trip's obvious amusement towards you, you made him eat the last pear dish, which you know he would not be forgiving you for any time soon.

"Truth or dare?" Hoshi asked you.

"Truth"

She smiled softly, curiosity on her face "Tell us about your first love."

You felt your heart skip a beat for a moment at the question as you were thrown back in time.

Malcolm felt his breath hitch in his throat at the question, his eyes glued to you.

You smiled at the thought as you cleared your throat. "Joshua"

Malcolm wasn't sure why his heart clenched in his chest at the name. Or why he felt an uncomfortable tightness at the smile on your face as you said it.

You two had been friends for quite some time, maybe it was surprise at having never known about it?

"Joshua?" He repeated the name out loud, sensing the curiosity from everyone at the table.

You nodded "My high school sweetheart. We were together for five years before we broke up."

"Why did you break up?" Trip spoke up.

"He wanted to because we were going to different schools. I was going to the academy, he wasn't. He thought it was best, I didn't."

"He broke your heart?" Hoshi asked softly

You nodded "Yes, even more so after I found out he started dating someone new only a few months later. I was still very much in love with him. Much more than he had even been with me I think."

"Well he was a fool." Malcolm said softly.

You looked up and met his eyes and felt your breath hitch. There was something in his gaze you had never seen. The softness and sincerity in his gaze caught you off guard, it made you feel something you had never felt when he looked at you before.

You smiled and looked back down shrugging your shoulders "It doesn't hurt anymore. I was young, time has passed." You said sincerely, causing the others to shake their heads in agreement and understanding.

"My turn!" You said with a smile, trying to ignore the quickly beating heart in your chest as you felt Malcolm's eyes still on you.

"Travis, truth or dare?"

He nodded his head, feeling safer to get a dare from you than Trip "Dare."

You smiled knowing he had trusted incorrectly "I dare you to ask Hannah on a date."

The other's eyes widened as they tried not to laugh and cheer at the dare. Trip clapped as he grinned at Travis, who stared at you in disbelief and betrayal.

"You'll never know how she feels unless you ask." You said with a smile

"And if she says no?"

"Then you'll know! And you'll get to move on. Though-" you leaned a bit closer to speak softly to him, now acutely aware that Malcolm's eyes were back on you, something you wouldn't have felt so nervous about only an hour before.

"I know she likes you too."

Travis repressed a smile "Really?"

You nodded and he adjusted himself. "Well...when does this dare expire? I don't have to go do it now...do I?"

"Hmm. By tomorrow night" You said with a firm tone. "If you don't do it by then, you will be punished."

"How?"

You looked down at the empty plate at the table "I will have Rollins make you your very own special batch of southern pear salad."

He grimaced as he swallowed "Fine" He breathed out, earning smiles and a smack on the shoulder by Trip.

---

You weren't sure exactly how much time had passed since your game of truth or dare began, but you weren't complaining. It was certainly proving to be an interesting night, and you were glad to no longer be bored.

You watched as Trip stared at Malcolm, trying to come up with a suitable dare for him.

"I dare you to do twenty pull ups!"

Travis nodded his head in interest as you and Hoshi both rolled your eyes "That's so lame, what are you fifteen?" You chuckled

"Hey! Twenty pull up's is hard!" He defended as you rolled your eyes again with an amused scoff.

"If you think twenty pull up's is hard you need to work out more." Malcolm said with a smirk as he stood up, looking around for a suitable area to perform his dare.

It was Trips turn to roll his eyes at the subtle brag by Malcolm.

As you and the others watched as Malcolm adjusted his position, you watched with heightened curiosity as he began lifting himself into the air.

While the other's began counting his reps out loud, you found your eyes drifting downward as his shirt lifted to expose his stomach. Quirking your brow, you quickly shook yourself from your thoughts as you forced yourself to pay attention, glad that no one noticed where your eyes had drifted.

You were surprised at yourself, having worked out with Malcolm before you never caught yourself staring like that. I mean, you had noticed his physique definitely, but you had never blatantly checked him out before, at least not that you noticed.

Clearing your throat you started counting with the others, you really started to wonder what had changed so suddenly. Were you attracted to Malcolm? If so, why were you just now noticing it?

Malcolm repressed the smile that tried to form on his face when he thought he saw you staring at him out of the corner of his eye. Not just watching him, but staring. He didn't want to assume incorrectly, but the thought that you had been made him happier than he expected.

Landing on the ground with a proud sigh he turned to Trip and smirked "Easy."

"Yeah yeah whatever" Trip said as he rolled his eyes.

You chuckled at their interaction before you looked back at Malcolm. You felt a small jolt through your body as you found his eyes already locked on yours.

You thought you saw a smirk on his lips, before it disappeared, but you ignored it as you turned away. You couldn't help but notice the way your heat fluttered in your chest.

"Oh! Is it really that late?" Hoshi said out loud as she looked at her watch.

Glancing over her shoulder, you read the time and hummed under your breath "We certainly killed some time."

"No wonder I'm so tired" Travis said with a light yawn as he stretched.

"We should head to bed." Malcolm suggested.

As you all hummed in agreement, you made your way out of the room. Suddenly, you felt a hand rest on your lower back. Glancing over your shoulder, you felt your heart jump.

Malcolm was smiling down at you before speaking softly "Goodnight Y/n"

You smiled softly, hoping he couldn't tell how his actions effected you suddenly. "Goodnight Malcolm."

As you left, the feeling of his hand no longer on your back was obvious. Your skin almost felt cold from the lack of touch. You took in a deep breath as you wondered what the hell was going on.

Malcolm thought the same, as he gazed after you, as you disappeared down the corridor, his own heart pounding as he flexed his hand, missing the warmth you had provided a moment ago.

xx

Second part will be released soon! I hope you liked i!

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @imaginesfire, @onuen, @rexit-mo, @witchygagirl, @alexxavicry

Star Trek Taglist: @starfleetimagines, @groovy-lady, @asgardianhobbit98, @agent-catfish-kenobi, @starship-argo, @cs-please, @gatefleet, @fandomdancer

#Malcolm Reed #Star Trek: Enterprise #Malcolm Reed x Reader #Malcolm Reed/reader #enterprise #star trek enterprise #malcolm reed imagine #malcolm reed fic #malcolm reed one shot #star trek imagine #star trek enterprise imagine #fic #oneshot #one shot #truth or dare #commissioned fic #truth or dare part one #malcolm reed x gn!reader #star trek enterprise fic

[hellishattempt]

angst superache songs as relationships with the batboys pt 3

this is the final part of the three !! i decided to try my hand at writing something for bruce and duke, even though both are like,,,, unknown quantities of the dcu. i mean, i know bruce, obviously. i own every batman game / movie and this big ass book on the batman. but duke? duke is a foreign language to me. and i speak a LOT of languages. so bear with me on this.

like before, this is gender neutral reader / no pronouns used <3

you can find part one ( dick + jason ) here & part two ( tim and damian ) here !

footnote - bruce wayne. the billionaire, philanthropist playboy is many things to many people, but to you, he's your childhood friend, and business partner. as the ceos of wayne enterprises and inkling incorporation, the two of you have worked closely, especially as bruce decided to step into his role more. having known bruce for so long, you know all about his public persona. he's a playboy, with extravagant and foreign women on his arm every night, and it's never the same woman. you're close enough with alfred to know all about bruce's "sleepovers". but you'd be lying if you said you didn't have feelings for bruce. it's stupid, you know this, to be in love with someone like bruce wayne. tonight, the two of you are hosting a gala for one of the charities you both fund. and tonight, you've had just a little bit too much to drink. "evening, brucie" you slur slightly, a glass of champagne between your lips. bruce was in the middle of what looked like an intense conversation with lucius fox, a friend and owner of foxteca. bruce looked to you, noticing your drunken state, and apologized to lucius. "we'll have to continue this later," then he turns to you. grabbing you just above the elbow, bruce rushes the two of you to a more private corner of the venue. "are- are you drunk?" he sounds incredulous. "i've never seen you drunk before. you need to sober up." bruce reaches to take the glass from your hands. as he does, you lean in and whisper into his ear "i like you, brucie." a giggle escapes from your lips. bruce's face is serious and stern. "sober. up. now's not the time for lies and jokes." you frown. "but why would i lie, when it's so clear that i'm in love with you?" a tense conversation follows. bruce likes someone else. you say, "if i waited, would that maybe help?" but bruce says patience won't change how he felt. someone calls out to bruce and he's gone in a second, his public mask back on. you're left standing alone. you leave the party silently. on monday, you're sober and yourself again. you play off your confession as a joke and blame it on the alcohol when bruce comes to check in on you. pretending you don't feel anything is easier than him thinking of you as some lovesick girl. you have to stop being pretentious and loathing your friendship with bruce. it's okay, because this taught you a lesson: love isn't precious. it's not like the novels, no pride and prejudice at all. so you'll just take the footnote in his life. he could take your body, your soul, your mind, everything from you. every line that you write for him will never be read or enjoyed, so a footnote will do. bruce, being ever the charmer and gentleman he is, asked to take you to dinner, to make sure you were really okay. friday night, exactly a week from the gala, you and bruce have a restaurant at gotham's own vigilantes and villains, a five star restaurant built by harvey dent after he was reintroduced to society. it's the only restaurant that will cater to civilians, vigilantes and the villains of arkham. harvey said he built it so he didn't have to feel so torn between his personalities. as you and bruce are sat your table, the host says she thinks you two are cute. they think you're a couple, so they buy you some booze. you two share the moscato, and laughed cause it's true to you. and you'd be embarrassed of you weren't so pleased that everyone else sees what bruce will never see. you're perfect together, but you'll never be the one. this teaches you another lesson: feelings are reckless. just like the novels, side characters end up alone. in bruce's story, you are no more than a side character. so a footnote will have to do.

jigsaw - duke thomas. duke is so in love with you, it's obvious. he wants nothing more than to be the object of your love. if changing his clothes would mean you like him more, if changing his hair would make you care, he'd grab the kitchen scissors and cut himself to slivers for you. if being polite kept you satisfied, if being less insane would make you stay, then he'd be more like his adoptive sisters, saying "thank you ma'am and mister," to you, for you. as much as you adore his affection and idolization of you, your feelings for him aren't like that. he's your brother, your best friend. he's the only one of the waynes that you feel like you can really trust, who understands what it's like to be the odd one out of the family. signal and psycho are partners in crime fighting, just as tight knit as duke and you are when the masks are off. you notice his changes, and it doesn't mean much to you. all people mature in different ways, so what does it matter that duke is molding himself to be your ideal partner? he's changed every part of himself, until the puzzle pieces aren't him at all. it's ruined your friendship, and it's ruining him. your relationship is on thin ice, and you pretend not to know it. you like the new duke. he's perfect. little do you know, duke looks in the mirror, and all he sees is a jigsaw. you take every part of him, all the things you need. then the rest. you discard. you make him into something he's not. you don't realize it, but you're the one who's made this version of him. it's like duke is your frankenstein's monster, and you're the crazy doctor. you don't notice this. or maybe you do, but just choose not to care. but duke's family notices it. dick, jason, tim, steph, cass, even damian. they all see the changes you've made. they see what you're doing to their brother, how you're damaging him. it hurts them to see him hurt. "all you're doing to make her happy? and still, she doesn't fucking love you?" tim prods. "you're killing parts of yourself to fit her, thomas." damian adds. to that, jason scoffs. "it's clear as shit you're not the issue." dick takes a seat next to duke, gently draping an arm over his brother's shoulders. "if you made her like you, would you even like yourself?" duke's mind is racing. he doesn't want to believe their words. he knows it's true, though, he just doesn't want to accept it. "pointing out all my flaws doesn't help. i'm fine," he bites out. standing, duke pushes out of the circle his brothers have formed around him, not looking steph or cass in the eyes as he storms past them. slamming the door to his room, duke basically falls into his bed, clutching his soft pillows close to his body. his phone buzzes with an instagram notification from you. you've just posted a new dump of pictures of you and duke. "shoutout to my favorite person and my best friend @duke_thomas_wayne!" he swipes through the post, photo after photo, reading through the comments when he's done. everybody thinks you're a couple. that's all that duke wants. yelling out in frustration, he throws his phone across the room. "why don't you love me?" he cries, fingers gripping the roots of his hair and pulling hard. duke thomas is nothing more than a jigsaw of your creation. but that's okay with him, because you love this version of duke. so he'll change every part of himself just to make you happy, even if it ruins him.

#batfamily angst #batman #bruce wayne #bruce wayne angst #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x (y/n) #batman x you #batman x reader #batman angst #duke thomas #signal #dc angst #duke thomas x you #duke thomas imagine #duke thomas angst #signal x you #signal x reader #jason todd angst #jason todd #dick grayson #batman imagine #bruce wayne imagine

[marsrize]

How to be a successful vigilante and a dad, By Bruce Wayne [Part 3]

Ao3 : Here | Part 1: Here | Part 2: Here.

Summary : Bruce is sure it was a bad idea to give him a child. 

Bruce had just returned from his night of patrol. He had finished setting up in the cave the night before. It would soon be daylight, and he needed some rest before his other challenge of the day began: parenthood.

He dropped onto his bed. Bruce was sure he would not be able to fall asleep. Alfred's words were running through his head. He had managed to put his thoughts aside to concentrate on his mission during the night, but now that he was alone in his bed, with nothing else to do, his thoughts were focused solely on the little blonde head he had started seeing for three days now.

Let's be honest: Bruce didn't have a clue what to do.

But he did come to several conclusions.

The first was that although he was not thrilled with Alfred's idea, he had to admit that the man was right. Adrien was not a little kitten found in the street; he was a child. A small and vulnerable being.

He had to be honest. No one had forced him to have an affair with the boy's mother, much less unprotected sex. Nor had anyone forced him to pick up a cape and uniform to chase criminals at night. Life is about choices. What he was going through was the consequence of his own actions.

He was a rational man. He had all this information in his head. So many questions flowed through his mind: How did his parents raise him? Even though he was very young, he didn't remember much about his beloved parents. Would they be proud of him? What would they think if they saw him now with a little boy?

Bruce sighed and turned in his bed. There was a second conclusion he had come to after only three days with the little one.

What was that second conclusion?

He wasn't father material.

Adrien was ......................................How to describe him?

Several memories began to emerge in his mind.

He was too young to have white hair. But that's what was going to happen to him if he continued this path. This kid definitely had a problem.

He was too much. JUST TOO MUCH.

 Too energetic

Adrien was running around the house barefoot with Bruce chasing him. The child refused to take a bath and a game of hide and seek had begun. Bruce was supposed to return to Wayne Enterprise, he was already late. But that didn't matter to Adrien. What he wanted to do was play.

"Adrien, get back here right now!"

" NOOOO!"

"Adrien!"

"NEVER!"

"Adrien, I'm warning you right now, if you don't get back here right now, you'll be denied dessert!"

The boy stopped dead in his tracks. Then slowly he turned his little head towards him and looked him intensely in the eyes.

"Me don't care! Buce don't even know…to…Hummm…make food, Nah!"

"For starters we say, 'I don’t care' and not 'Me don’t care', and-..."

"Don't care!"

He started to run again. However, Bruce had time to catch him and take him by force into the bathroom.

Then began a second battle: getting Adrien out of the tub.

He had refused to get in, but now that he was in the tub with toys, he didn't want to get out.

"Adrien, there is no more time. Stop being childish and get out of the tub."

“I’M BABY!”

“……….It's not wrong in a way….”

“Not wrong!”

“Well, stop repeating everything I say. We need to leave Adrien, we're already late.”

"NO. I’m in, I’m stay!"

" ......... You're not making any sense... "

Bruce looked at his watch, which was now wet from the water in the tub that the kid had splashed all over.

9:40 am.

He still had the whole day ahead of him.

Bruce sighed.

 Too chaotic

"ADRIEN, NO!"

Bruce rushed forward to catch Adrien before he could climb even higher on the bookshelf.

"Adrien, don't climb the bookshelf, it's dangerous."

"Want to play. Bored."

"Climbing on the furniture is not a game."

Adrien began to gesticulate in his arms. Bruce held him tightly so he wouldn't fall.

"Want to play! Let me go! Bad! BAD! BAD! BAD!"

Bruce sighed.

 Too talkative

"Hey Buce.... What's your job?"

"I work in an office."

"In an office? Why do you go out then?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well... There's an office there *points to the door leading to the office*, why go outside? You don’t like the one you have?"

"......Hmm... What I mean is that my job is in a big building with other people. It's a very special office."

"What do you do in it?"

"I sign papers... I talk to people..."

"You need to go outside for that? Can't you just pick up the phone?"

"...................................."

*One and a half hours of explanation later*

"Can I come? I want to sign papers too.”

“You must be an adult to sign the papers…”

"But... You're not an adult…”

"Of course I'm an adult."

Adrien looked him straight in the eye with an expression of confusion clearly visible on his face.

"No, you’re not. You live with your daddy. Grandpa Alfred do everything for you. Adults people do everything by themselves!"

 “*speechless*”

  *********************************************

Bruce could have sworn at that very moment that he heard someone chuckle. Alfred must have been close by.

Looking up at the roof of his room, Bruce sighed. He couldn't count the number of times he had done it.

Bruce was really trying to rationalize. Adrien was only 3 years old. He was basically a baby.

A little baby that Alfred had probably spoiled a little too much. Who didn't listen when he was spoken to and who only did what he wanted to do with his little baby head.

Was this child normal?!

Bruce had now developed a tremendous respect for his own parents. Was he this insufferable as a child? Why do regular people put themselves through this pain?!

He was deep in thought when a noise caught his attention. He got up from his bed. The door to his room had just opened. A small blonde head protruded from the door. Adrien was supposed to be sleeping. He was sure he had respected the bedtime curfew Alfred had given him. The blond boy moved closer to his bed. Bruce noticed that his eyes were wet. He had a stuffed animal in his hands.

Adrien moved closer to his bed. Then, without asking, he climbed onto the bed and sat down on the bed next to him.

There was only one possible explanation for Bruce at that moment.

"You had a nightmare."

It wasn't a question, but a clear statement. Adrien nodded slowly.

Bruce hesitated for a moment. However, he could clearly see that the boy was not well. The way Adrien rubbed his eyes told him that he had probably been crying. He couldn't let a child cry like that without doing anything, could he?

"You...want to talk about it?"

"The butterfly."

"What?"

"The bad butterfly said I was a bad boy. He wanted to eat me!"

"The butterfly.... Hmmm.... Is there a butterfly in your room?"

"No. The man's name was Butterfly. He was a bad man."

"I see. So, you had a dream about a naughty man called Butterfly who wanted to eat you. Did I understand correctly?"

Adrien nodded.

That was a very strange dream.

"Me scared. He was really...mean."

Bruce patted him gently on the head.

"It's okay. It was just a bad dream. There's no villain named Butterfly. You're safe in the manor."

Adrien remained silent and hugged his stuffed animal. Then he raised his head to face him.

"Can me stay with you? Please?"

Bruce hesitated. He was supposed to go on patrol in a little while. He was resting a bit before leaving the manor. His mouth fell open before his brain could properly register his train of thought.

"All right. Just this once."

The little boy's eyes lit up. He wasted no time in settling down on the bed. Bruce then had no choice but to lie down next to the little boy.

It looked like he would be late for his patrol tonight.

Several hours later, when he returned from a restless night, he found a little blond boy still asleep on the bed. A small smile formed at the corner of his lips.

Adrien was now asleep in the middle of the bed, arms and legs spread like a starfish. Bruce could hear his steady breathing.

It was like watching a kitten take a nap.

 Cute.

#maribat bio dad #adribat bio dad #mlb x batman #mlb x dc #miraculous x dc #miraculous x batman #dc x mlb #dc x miraculous #ml x dc

[notquitecogent]

does it feel like magic?

A little contribution to @hellcheer-au-week!

This is to satisfy the prompts Supernatural/Fantasy Setting, Workplace Setting and Rivals.

Look, I don't know where this came from but I'm trying to stretch myself a bit and actually write a multi-chapter with *gasp* a plot!

Rating/Tags may change.

TITLE: does it feel like magic?

PAIRING: Chrissy Cunningham/Eddie Munson (F/M), Stranger Things

RATING: Mature

WORD COUNT: ~3,000

CHAPTER COUNT: 1/3

WARNINGS: recreational drug use, swearing, egregious werewolf lore, attempted banter SUMMARY: In a parallel world of infinite magical possibilities, enterprising young werewolf Eddie Munson is doing... exactly what he'd do in any other universe: desperately trying to scrape together enough money to both survive *and* finally get Corroded Coffin's demo recorded.

The way to do it? Win The Hawk's Nest's Bartender Of The Month grand mega prize. The only thing standing in his way? The new girl on staff, who just so happens to be hiding a few secrets of her own.

** A silly little workplace AU where Werewolf!Eddie and Fae!Chrissy are rival bartenders at a dive in Fantasy Chicago. Read below or on Ao3.

What the FUCK. 

He’s been working at this bar for two years now, building up a steady stream of regulars – not to mention the other members of Corroded Coffin, a solid 40 percent of the Chicago metal community, and his pack (well, if that’s what you could call Jerry the undertaker and Tim from the McDonald’s drive-thru) – and yet none of it seems to count for anything, because the new chick is about to overtake him and win the ultimate, supremo, MEGA jar of tips that’s rightfully his. 

Bartender of the Month, Monty called it; the owner of The Hawk’s Nest had made the competition a signature of the place a year ago to try and drum up more business. It was a dumb gimmick, sure, but it made everyone lift their game, competing to see who could get the most people through the dive’s dingy wooden door. 

And it had worked; the place was hopping most nights, crowded with humans, fae, lycans and more. Harrington had managed to get a bunch of college kids to celebrate their various athletic endeavours there, as well as inviting the many friends (and friends-of-friends) of his steady stream dates – not that any of them came back after the inevitable dumping.

But Fridays belonged to Eddie. It went like this: he’d get into a bit of a groove on whatever topic caught his fancy, climb up on the bar making outlandish pronouncements as he poured whisky into the waiting mouths of his loyal acolytes, and if they asked very nicely (and they always did) whip out Maria and blast them with a ravenous solo until he was dripping with sweat. Then he’d shuck off his inevitably ripped T-shirt, pull beers until 4am, and head home with whoever was left standing. 

Up until two weeks ago, it was a strategy that served him very well. He was leagues ahead of Harrington, his next closest competitor, and the prize – the aforementioned comically oversized cash-stuffed jar – was so close he could taste it. It would more than cover the cost of finally recording a real, honest-to-Satan Corroded Coffin demo, and maybe then all his dreams would come blisteringly true. 

Then she turned up. 

Christine (“it’s just Chrissy, actually” well fuck that, he’d call her by her full name just to piss her off) had swished into his orbit like a little blonde sugarplum fairy, like a cherry blossom come to life in her fluffy pink crop top and pristine white jean shorts. 

She looked unbelievably out of place against the dark panelled walls and sticky floors of the Nest, and he was sure she’d wandered into the wrong place – even told her so (nicely, obviously, just a “Hey, can I help you find where you need to be?”) – until Monty came out and drew her into a warm hug. 

“Chrissy, sweetheart, how are you?” he’d smiled as he stepped back to give her a proper look. “How’s school?” 

“School’s great, Uncle Monty,” Chrissy gave him a sweet, reassuring smile, and to most, it would have seemed genuine, but something about her steel blue gaze tingled Eddie’s wolf-sense. She was lying. 

Monty didn’t seem to have noticed.

“This little lady is practically my niece,” the older man explained. “Dad was my roommate in college. Best friends,” he said fondly, rubbing Chrissy’s shoulder. 

Oh joy, a nepotism hire, Eddie thought, scrubbing the bar slightly more aggressively than before. 

“Chris, why don’t you help Eddie get everything set up? You can start your first shift tonight.”

Monty’s portly figure shuffled back toward his office, brushing Eddie’s shoulder as he went. “Look after her, would you?” he murmured earnestly.

Chrissy certainly seemed like she needed to be looked after; she was so petite she could practically fit in his pocket, and she gave him a cute little half wave as Monty’s door clicked shut. 

It was kind of hard to look at her directly, actually; the late afternoon light seemed to bounce off her hair, casting a hazy red-gold glow around her big eyes and full lips. In fact, it seemed like all the light in the room was attracted to Chrissy – like she was some kind of magnet for sunbeams or something. 

“Eddie?” she said sweetly, her voice high and tinkly. 

Wind chimes, he thought dimly, standing there squinting at her like an idiot. 

“Huh?” 

He shook his head; for some reason, it felt suddenly full of cotton wool, even though he was definitely completely sober. It’d be almost impossible for him to get drunk or stoned this close to the full moon anyway – even wolfsbane wouldn’t do it the week of his change. 

In fact, all his senses were supposed to be heightened at this point; sight. Sound. Smell. He scented the air discreetly. Even amidst the usual empty bar scents – stale beer, pretzels, disinfectant – he could still pick hers out. It was like... an orchard, or maybe a meadow. 

Flowers, and fresh air, and ripe fruit bursting with juice. 

His wolf-self imagined sinking its teeth into her flesh, piercing through it like the fragile, fuzzy skin of a peach. She’d taste sweet, it thought. 

He felt a familiar heat lick up his spine, and mentally slapped himself. He couldn’t let the wolf get carried away – not this close to the moon change. Instead, he tried for nonchalance. 

“You ever worked in a bar before?” he asked her, quirking an eyebrow. 

Chrissy smiled brightly, showing off adorably crooked front teeth. “Never.” 

“Well, I guess now’s a good time to start. Let me show you the, uh, ropes.”

The ropes? Could he be any more creepy?

Still, she followed him down to the basement without complaint, looking around the dank room stacked high with kegs. Eddie’s nose wrinkled at the smell of yeast which always seemed to permeate the windowless space. 

“So, this is where the magic happens,” he joked. 

Chrissy looked at him for a moment, an unidentifiable emotion crossing her face, before she caught on. Her face scrunched up cutely. 

“Yeah, it definitely smells… magical.”

Eddie grinned, fiddling with one of the couplers and leaning towards her conspiratorially. “I wish I could say you get used to it, but it’s been two years for me, and… it’s honestly worse.” 

He must have been distracted by Chrissy’s responding giggle or something, because at that very moment a volcano of foam began pouring out the top of the keg, soaking his hands and the hem of his shirt. 

“Shit!” he yelped, frantically moving to readjust the coupler and stop the flow. 

“Oh my gosh, Eddie!” said Chrissy, moving toward him.

“No no no, this is all. Part. Of. The. Training,” he grunted back as he turned the heavy metal cylinder to check the pressure gauge. “This is definitely going to be on the final exam, so, you know, take notes.”

Chrissy smiled ruefully. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Get me a fresh shirt? There’s one in my bag under the bar.”

She nodded, her strawberry blonde ponytail bobbing and swishing as she turned and climbed back up the stairs while Eddie kept his gaze firmly on the puddle of amber fluid in front of him and not on her back pockets. 

She returned a few minutes later with his backup T-shirt (thank God he’d thought to wash it), and averted her gaze as he swapped it for the beer-soaked one. It wasn’t until he’d pulled black cotton over his stomach that he realised she was blushing; something strange and new in her flower-and-fruit scent.

“So, uh, how about I show you how to tap these kegs properly? ” he said, clearing his throat and attempting a light-hearted tone.

Chrissy showed all her teeth as she grinned, “Oh, you mean that wasn’t the proper way?”

**

After a thorough keg tutorial, Eddie moved on to showing Chrissy how to pull beers – anticipating a long evening of babysitting as she dropped glasses and poured with too much head. 

But, as it turned out, she was a total natural. The girl – young woman, actually; she’d mentioned she was a junior at Northwestern, which by his calculations made them only two years apart, give or take – seemed to have some kind of psychic ability to guess people’s orders before they made them. 

She was graceful, too – especially considering his own seeming inability to navigate all three dimensions of space; there was no tripping over each other, no accidental bumps or dropped glasses or awkward side-to-side as they moved from one end of the bar to the other. 

It was like she could just tell where he was going to be and floated past accordingly, like water around a particularly uncoordinated rock. 

She was also (no exaggeration) magic at mixing cocktails, pouring and stirring and shaking concoctions that had the Nest’s jaded patrons rolling their eyes in pleasure. 

The sight made her giggle with delight (which he’d usually find fake and calculated, but on her it was so genuine he couldn’t help but be endeared) – and even though it was well past midnight, the glow from the afternoon seemed to linger around her like a halo. 

He had to keep stopping himself from staring at her too long, particularly when a song she liked came on and she started humming and singing along, swaying her hips to the beat.

In fact, Eddie had a stupid grin plastered on his face all shift… until his eyes flew to the tip jar labelled Chrissy, with a little heart over the ‘i’. Sure, he’d expected a cute female bartender (yes, she was cute, especially with her legs and the curve of her bare waist in full view) would get a few extra bucks here and there, particularly from certain members of the Nest’s clientele – but nothing like this. 

He never expected her to out-earn his tips on her first goddamn night. 

His good mood practically evaporated in a second, and Eddie had worked himself up into a mild seethe by the time he made it back to the apartment. 

Unfortunately, the wolf made his emotions run hotter than usual this time of the month, while simultaneously rendering his go-to method of calming down – a fat wolfsbane-laced joint – entirely useless. 

His body fizzed with nervous energy as he paced the living room, trying not to wake Argyle. His roommate was usually a heavy sleeper, but Eddie had a knack for clumsily knocking over – or into – any and all of their furniture (the aforementioned struggle with three-dimensional space). 

He threw himself down on the couch face first, groaning into a throw pillow. 

He was so close to making it all happen. How many months had they been waiting to get studio time? This was their shot, their chance. How much longer would he have before Gareth and Jeff and Grant graduated and moved away? A year? Less? 

There was no way Corroded Coffin could stay together past the summer – not without something tangible keeping them there, like a mind-melting demo that would definitely have the greatest rock labels in the world lining up to sign them. 

Except he’d be out for at least two nights with the change (just his luck, the full moon was a Friday and he’d lose Saturday to recovering). If Chrissy’s performance over the weekend was anything like tonight, he was well and truly fucked. 

Eddie ground his teeth. His bad mood – and the busy shift that preceded it – had left him drained, and he could feel sleep creeping in at the corners of his consciousness. 

If he could just get Chrissy to quit… 

** As it turned out, his preferred tactic of simply explaining the situation failed spectacularly when he confronted her the following afternoon. 

“I’m sorry, Eddie,” she said as she daintily polished a glass (he was trying to see who could clean the most in 20 minutes, but Chrissy hadn’t seemed to realise they were in competition – even though she was, maddeningly, winning), ticking down the time until the bar opened at 5pm.

“Are you serious?” he gaped. 

She turned away, placing the glass on the shelf next to its compatriots. “I can’t just quit.” 

Eddie stared at her in shock. “I need to know if you are fucking with me right now. You’ve been here five minutes! No-one will miss you!” 

She huffed a little – for some reason, it made him think of a dandelion – and blushed light pink. It contrasted prettily with her floaty yellow sundress, he thought despite himself.

“You’re not the only one who has bills to pay, ok?”

She was trying to be patient with him, and at any other time maybe he’d have backed off – accepted she wasn’t going to change her mind. But he could almost feel the moon rising, and he was too close to getting what he wanted. The wolf would have none of it.

“So get your boyfriend or Daddy or whoever to pay them!” he snapped.

Chrissy turned back to face him; her flush had deepened, spreading down to the neckline of her dress. High spots of colour dotted her freckled cheekbones as her temper flared. 

She visibly gritted her teeth as she stared up at him, blue-grey eyes dancing. He thought she might actually stomp one of her little Ked-clad feet. 

“You’re not my friend, Eddie. You don’t know the first– the first fucking thing about me."

The wolf bristled at the challenge in her voice, the naked venom, and an answering echo of anger surged through his blood – but Chrissy was already gone, storming off towards the rest room’s graffiti-covered door (Park your junk here, God, what a stupid thing to tag). 

He heard, rather than felt, the glass break in his palm. “Shit, shit, shit! ” he fumed as he gingerly picked the shards from his bleeding skin. 

The night barely improved after that; everything seemed to drag, the customers impatient and demanding, and he surly and irritable. Chrissy stayed pissed at him, going out of her way to avoid even brushing his arm as she ducked and weaved from the taps to the till to the counter and back. 

It wasn’t like before, when they were moving in perfect sync; now, she wouldn’t even let him lean over her to reach the limes. 

He knew he’d said something to set her off, but what the hell did she mean when she said he didn’t know her at all? It wasn’t like she was hard to figure out – a pretty little rich girl from the nice side of town, probably thought the world owed her everything on a silver platter.

Bet she’d never been told no in her life. She was probably just doing this job for pocket money, anyway – trying to prove something to her dad, or whatever. 

It was such bullshit – she had other options, he didn’t. It was as simple as that. Why wouldn’t she just cut him a break?

And it was a shame, really, because it wasn’t as though she was unlikeable. That first shift had been good – great, even. She was sweet to the customers, listened to the old regulars, loved to talk about anything and everything. She hadn’t even flinched when he’d asked her to clean the urinals. 

Which made it all the more annoying when her niceness and sweetness seemed to end right where his actual real life problems began. 

Eddie’s foul mood translated to a shockingly poor haul of tips, which he blamed on Monty’s music selection (“Duran Du-fucking-ran? You can’t expect me to work in these conditions!”).

Even worse, he was staring down the barrel of his change with nothing but a bad mood and patience hanging by a thread. He knew from experience what a shitty idea it was to let the wolf take over when he was like that; it’d make him extra wild, aggressive – less able to keep control of his instincts. 

That was hard enough as it was; while Eddie considered himself more of the flight type of guy (though he’d had his fair share of fisticuffs since entering the ironically named hospitality industry), the wolf was definitely more in the fight camp. If Uncle Wayne hadn’t stepped in with the tranq gun when his teenage hormones were raging, his life would have looked very different. 

(The wolf wanted to do, er, other things too, but he’d only met two female werewolves since his turning and they were at least 10 years older than him – and much scarier than getting shot point-blank with a dart full of phenothiazine and silver sulfide.) 

“You gotta chill out, my man,” said Argyle as he slid down next to where Eddie was stewing on the couch. 

Eddie scoffed. “You got something that’ll work this close to the full moon? I’ve got, like, six hours to go.” 

The sorcerer nodded thoughtfully, his slow, soothing voice lilting, “In all my infinite wisdom, brochacho, I have procured a little something I am told will do – as they say – the trick.” 

From underneath his tie-dyed T-shirt, his roommate produced a tiny baggie of glowing gold powder. 

“Fae dust,” he explained, noticing Eddie’s confused expression as he held it up to the light. 

“And that is…?”

“The dust that is fae, my dude, the dust that is most fae. A pinch here, a pinch there, and it’s good vibes until the sun comes up.” 

Eddie twirled the baggie between his fingers. “So do I snort it, or…?” 

“Any way you like. Drink it, smoke it, under the tongue, whatever. It’ll find its way in there.”

He placed a reassuring hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “Enjoy the moon, wolf-man, and don’t forget, I have my lady friend in town, so kindly knock if you’re back before Sunday.”

#hellcheer au week #hellcheer #my fic #eddissy #eddie x chrissy #hellcheer au

[wrencatte]

Im struggling to figure out what to work on bc i have so many things to work on and theyve all got me in a strangle hold T_T someone stop the madness

Jason reaches up, yet again, to fiddle with the knot of his tie. Bruce sighs knowingly and catches his hand then holds it, swinging it between them. He smiles as Jason rolls his eyes but doesn’t take his hand back, just arranges it so they’re clasped together.

“It’s not as tight as it feels,” Bruce says.

He chews on his bottom lip before he realizes what he’s doing and stops, scowling. “You’re used to it, old man,” Jason says. “It’s exactly as tight as it feels.”

“Jay – .”

“I don’t even gotta be at this one,” Jason whines, sounding all of five instead of thirteen. “C’mon, B. Couldn’t I’ve just stayed home? You don’t need me.”

Bruce refrains from saying something cheesy and dad-like (something like I’ll always need you) because he knows Jason will turn into a complete mess for the rest of the night. They’re still learning the ropes of dad-and-son even if Batman-and-Robin seems to come naturally. Slowly but surely, though, and Bruce doesn’t want to mess it up.

“Come to this one and I’ll let you skip the next three,” Bruce offers. Jason’s expression immediately brightens and he twists around so he’s walking backwards in front of him, still holding hands.

“Forreal?”

Bruce grins. “And we’ll go to Alejandro’s after this for sundaes.”

Jason cheers, jumping up and to the side with carefully cultivated grace to avoid tripping Bruce. There’s a skip to his step now as they walk down the unnecessarily long hallway. It’s nice to see him acting his age – he and Dick both had too many bouts of too-old maturity that sometimes makes Bruce feel like he’s looking in a mirror. Dick more so. Jason just seems to enjoy taking delight in the little things – like ice cream in exchange for a stuffy gala.

When they enter the convention hall his bright expression drops and he lets go of Bruce’s hand to smooth down his tie. Bruce mourns the loss of his smile, but there’s nothing they can do about it. Jason hates being here, Bruce hates bringing him because he hates it so much.

The tabloids can’t get enough of them.

If they’re not singing back-handed praises about Jason, then they’re spitting outright vitriol. He never wanted his children to be faced with that – to be honest, he never really thought about what a child would go through being taken him by him, let alone two, and he hates himself a little for that oversight, for not learning after he took Dick in. But he couldn’t just leave Jason out there and – but Bruce has found that if he doesn’t bring them every now and then, then the tabloids get nastier, the rumors get darker.

So, yeah. Here they are.

Jason sticks close to his side for the first hour, smiling gamely, answering questions politely, accepting more back-handed compliments with the kind of grace that comes from years and years of practice that extend beyond when he came to live with Bruce. He has to dodge three attempts touching his hair – with and without them asking for permission first. When he said no to the request, they tried anyway. Two people praised his articulation and it took everything in Bruce’s power to not get physical – instead he takes them down verbally and then makes note of who they are so he can see what he can do to them reputation wise. He’s pretty sure they have ties to Wayne Enterprises – and soon they won’t anymore.

Bruce sighs, does an admirable job of not pinching his nose in shame for his fellow man, and taps out a rhythm on Jason’s shoulder. He glances up at him, eyebrow raised. Bruce taps it out again and Jason grins brightly, eyes sparkling, then disappears towards the snack table, dipping into the shadows like he shouldn’t as Jason but excels as Robin and Bruce knows he’s not going to remember to talk to him about keeping those talents separate. Not when he catches sight of him grinning and laughing with a younger kid as they talk over little bite size brownies.

He recognizes Timothy Drake – finds Jack and Janet in town for once over near the doors to the balcony – and he’s glad him and Jason have found each other. He’s about, what, eleven, twelve? A year or so younger than Jason and will probably make a good friend judging by their conspiratorial smiles. Jason meets Bruce’s gaze, and his smile widens, mischievous and loads better than that wane, professional high-society one he learned from Dick.

Dick made it charming and likeable after years of practice. Jason’s just screams get-me-the-fuck-out-of-here only because he doesn’t have the showmanship Dick was raised with. He’ll learn, eventually. Bruce wishes he wasn’t in a place to have to learn it – he might have to go back to those plans he’d been working on to get the Wayne name more under the radar. It’ll be less suspicious now since he has kids. It’s not weird for a celebrity to shy away from a camera they used to love after having kids, right?

He knows Dick hates his Richie Wayne persona. He doesn’t want Jason to have to make one.

Bruce puts a pin in that for later and turns his charming smile back on Miss. Caroline (who loss most of her interest in him once he took in Dick, but she can’t back down after making up her own mask).

It’s boring. Bruce doesn’t hear half the conversations he has. Jason fully disappeared about forty minutes ago. The Drake kid didn’t reappear, so he has to assume they’re gone together. He should probably worry about what they’re planning. He trusts them. To an extent. They’re curious kids after all. He had to reassemble most of the vehicles in the Cave after Jason got his hands on them.

Well. Jason reassembled them. It was a learning experience. He’s just glad the kid’s too nervous about touching the topside cars. One day they’ll work on one of those together.

He thinks he’s okay with losing sight of Jason – until the doors bang open and men dressed in black swarm in. Bruce sighs, annoyed and frustrated, and only gets a single step away from Caroline before he realizes he’s dead center in the middle of the room and he has nowhere to slink off to. Crap.

#extra long piece for luck #jason todd #bruce wayne #batfamily #my writing #tims in there too but barely

[hummingbird-of-light]

No. 2 “I’ll call out your name, but you won’t call back.” (“They don’t care about you.”)

~

“Hello? Anybody here? Where are you, guys?”

Slowly, Dr. McCoy’s feet carried him through the abandoned spaceship. He had inspected the ship’s sickbay, but unfortunately there had been no traces of where the crew could have gone to.

The USS Hamlet’s distress call had been sent out two days ago. Apparently the Enterprise, who had come to help, had arrived too late though. It was scary to think that a crew of 300 people could vanish just like that.

The horrible feeling of something or someone watching him made McCoy’s neck tingle and he scratched at it awkwardly.

“Jim?”

Was his stupid friend playing a trick on him? After all, he sometimes behaved more like a teenager than a responsible Starfleet captain. One of the various reasons why McCoy was annoyed by his job oh so often. But… no. The doctor shook his head. Not even Jim would be dumb enough to tease McCoy in a serious situation like this.

“Scotty?”

The Scottish engineer too had a favor for playing pranks, but he was even more of an adult than their captain. And after the last few nights the good doctor and the chief engineer had spent together, McCoy was even more assured that Scott wouldn’t play tricks on him.

“Chekov, Uhura!”

Neither of them would prank McCoy, that was for sure.

However, there was another thing worrying the doctor next to the strange feeling of being watched.

He didn’t get an answer.

It was like every single member of the away team had vanished into thin air.

Just like the Hamlet’s crew.

“Come on! Answer me,” McCoy groaned into his comm, while he made his way through the empty hallways.

This wasn’t funny at all!

It was only a moment later when the device in his hand started to crackle and a strange sound could be heard. At first, it sounded like static, but then McCoy could make out voices and words.

“Bones is useless. He’s nothing.”

That voice. It… sounded like Jim.

McCoy came to a halt, staring at the comm in his hand in disbelief.

“What the- come on, kid! Quit playing games!”

Had he really been so wrong? Was Jim actually so stupid?

“Aye, ye’re right. He’s an awful doctor and an even worse lover. I cannae believe that he actually thinks someone could be interested in him.”

A familiar Scottish accent followed the captain’s voice and even though McCoy didn’t want to admit it, it sent a strange pang through his heart. Was Scotty in on this prank? He had thought better of the man.

But it only got worse.

“A doctor who couldn’t even save his own father. Pathetic.”

When McCoy heard Chekov’s words, the whole ship around him seemed to fade into darkness. His eyes were wide as he stared at the communicator in his trembling hands.

No… that… they didn’t know about it. No one but Jim knew about how he had failed his father. How he had killed David McCoy. And Jim… wouldn’t have told anyone, would he?

“An incompetent doctor like him… it’s no surprise that his ex-wife divorced him.”

Slowly, McCoy shook his head. Not Uhura too.

Why? Why were they saying these things? These awful, horrible things. How could they talk about him like that behind his back?!

“Stop it.”

McCoy shut his eyes, shaking his head vigorously. But the voices didn’t listen to him.

“He’s a failure.”

“Nobody loves him.”

“We should just leave him aboard this ship so he can vanish like all the others.”

“He should stay away from us.”

“We don’t need him.”

When the first hot tears started to fall from his eyes, McCoy’s body was still trembling.

“Stop it! Just stop, stop, stop!”

Anger mixed with feelings of sorrow and guilt and sadness.

He didn’t want to hear them. He didn’t want to hear their familiar voices.

And suddenly, another voice whispered right next to his ear.

“They don’t care about you.”

No… that… that wasn’t true. His crew loved him. Even though he was sometimes grumpy or harsh. They always came to him, because they only trusted him to take care of them. No CMO was better than Dr. Leonard Horatio McCoy!

“They don’t want you.”

He wanted to say something, but his voice died right in his throat. He couldn’t get a single word out.

“I want you, Leonard. I need you. Stay with me. Stay with me… forever.”

McCoy felt his arms and legs get swallowed by a strange goo, but he didn’t even resist it.

“You’ll be mine.”

Slowly, the goo started to feast on his body. It pulled him in, devouring bit by bit.

But he didn’t care. As long as he was loved by that strange creature. As long as it didn’t hurt or tease him. As long as the pain would stop, he was happy.

“Bones!”

“Leonard!”

“Dr. McCoy!”

The last thing he heard were the fearful screams of the people he had once called his friends, followed by various phaser shots. But they were too late.

They hadn’t answered his screams for them, so he wouldn’t answer theirs either. He would stay aboard the USS Hamlet. Forever.

#whumptober 2023 #no.2 #lyric #I’ll call out your name but you won’t call back. #They don’t care about you. #star trek #fanfiction #major character death #depressing thoughts #dr. leonard mccoy #james t. kirk #montgomery scott #pavel chekov #nyota uhura #hints of scones

[themarginalthinker]

Flight Feathers

(Another drabble from a little au with @berd-alert - what if Alan Frog became an abandoned vampire fledgling in Santa Carla a few years post-canon?)

Santa Carla had changed.

In the three years since leaving it for redder pastures so to speak, the town and the infamous Boardwalk had changed. Not to any human eyes, granted. Yes, there were even more businesses popping up in the margins - holes in the walls rented out for cash-only enterprises that came, stayed a week, and then were gone - and there were the people as well. The coastline remained a destination for all sorts, either for a couple days, or for a whole summer, whiling away the sweltering, humid daytime hours into the cool, windy nights of bonfires and tired limbs.

All this was nothing different than it always had been. A new decade, 1990. The century beginning to close her eyes in her last years, soon to welcome whatever insanity would come to pass in her progeny, always new, but never unknown.

No, what had changed Santa Carla was not something that could be seen from anywhere but her underbelly.

Marko looked out over the buildings of the town in the further distance from the relative calm the wharf. He'd needed a moment away from the crowds. In just three short years, being out with the pack in the wide open planes and dense forests of Montana, Colorado, Wyoming - David's heart's home, where he'd taken the pack after Max's swansong - Marko had gotten much less accustomed to being around so many people. Even the short two-week jaunt was enough to make him crave the quiet again. How he'd managed as a new fledgling living here night after night, he had no clue.

A presence pushing up against him, in his mind. His bond. He blinks, looking away from the lights of the games and food vendors further down, and leans into Paul as his mate sidles into him. Slipping from the shadows and faint mist over the water to nuzzle close to Marko in the dark space where no human eyes were watching.

"Find anything promising?" Marko asks.

Paul sighs, nose under Marko's jaw, and he can feel the hard lines of fangs already extended under his closed lips. Hm.

"Nothing that wouldn't be really tricky," Paul said. "And…I think they were spoken for anyway."

Mmhm. Marko sighs with him, letting Paul press teeth to his throat. Some frustration behind both the gesture and in the bond, pushing, wanting something else, but working it out like gnawing a dry bone. They wanted a feed, but hunting took time, took patience. Carefully expended energy for, hopefully, a bigger net return.

But, what was that statistic? Nine out of ten hunts for predators are unsuccessful?

There were other packs in the area now. Bigger ones than just their measly two. And they were playing longer games than either Marko or Paul cared about getting involved with. Marko himself had seen them, when moseying around familiar sights, like the carousel, some odds-and-ends shops the pack had made punkish terrors of themselves in. They had locked onto Paul and Marko pretty quickly - supernatural things did, like to like, same to same.

And it wasn't just vampires in Santa Carla these days, no.

Marko couldn't quite confirm it yet, wanting to poke around a bit more, but he's pretty sure some lycan-ish folks were taking an interest in the wildlife areas outside of town, a couple of the bars were offering more than booze in the basement levels, for beings who looked human enough, but left a taste like ozone and wildflowers in the back of Marko's throat, and the 'new age' shops (whose selection of joint fillings made Paul just laugh) were doing a bit more magic than what could be found at the bottom of a stick of incense.

In any case, a pack of two like them wanted very little to do with any of the drama that came from interrupting the drawing of new lines in the sand of the beaches. Paul and Marko weren't even here to stay. Just visit.

Marko's parents weren't…old. Only in their mid-fifties.

But they'd lost their son. Disappeared into the night, without even a body to bury.

The pack was probably right. Marko was prolonging things for himself, for no real reason, but, they let him have this. Not that David or any of them would deny him, of course.

As long as he was safe, unseen, and unknown, Marko would visit his parents in the township outside of Santa Carla proper. To appease his own mind.

"Well, no use sitting around here, then," Marko says eventually, pushing Paul off him to gather up his coat and start heading for the bikes. "Maybe we can look around town. I don't think the tail-waggers at this one place would notice too much if someone didn't quite make it home."

Paul hums, following after. "The gin-joint with the weird…whatsit above the door?"

"Hex sign - dude," Marko turns, giving Paul a look and a nudge, "You're from New England, near one of the biggest populations of Amish people and witches in the world, and you don't know what a fuckin' hex sign is?"

Paul snorts, looking comicly indignant. "Different times, Marko. Way different times."

"Alright, nega-Nancy Drew."

"You know, I think that's the only reason you know what a hex sign is - which is surprising as well, because I didn't think you knew how to read."

"Fuck off!"

The banter passes like blood itself between them. In their minds, their hearts, the bond grows lighter. Joy in each others' presence. The nights might be long, but time always seemed shorter when passing it with a friend.

At one point, they may have stuck around the Boardwalk, even if it was lean season, just to make a nuisance of themselves, just to find interesting nooks and crannies to satiate their equally ravenous curiosity.

But on the way to their bikes, Marko notes the stares. Not from humans, no. From others of their kind. Lurking in little bunches on a street corner, hanging around burnfires in cans, pinning he and Paul down from a perch on a cabana rooftop that Marko himself once used to claim as his throne. They all looked human enough. But a vampire knows a vampire.

Paul and Marko walked with their heads high, however. Not engaging, not looking anyone in the eye, but not setting themselves up for anything.

This wasn't their territory anymore.

The stares stayed on them as they pulled their bikes out, launching onto the road away from the beachfront.

The throngs of beach-goers and partiers on the nighttime surf was easy pickings. Only the more experienced strayed into town.

The place Marko had mentioned was something that found itself right in the middle of a dive bar and a fish-fry. Marko noted the crucifix on the far back wall, right above the pinball machine that someone was tapping furiously away at to the onlooking audience, enthusiastically egging them on. Along the walls were road signs from past eras. To the immediate left of the door, the long bar, behind which on mounted TVs, played sports and the news. It smelled of fried food, alcohol…and woozy, distracted humans.

Paul cut the way through the place, to a little table. His warrior-blue eyes relaxed, but darting. Here, there. This man drinking deeply from a pint? Maybe. That girl laughing drunkenly almost to the point of wheezing over there? Perhaps. Paul pushed the images, the feeling of it into Marko's mind, for his thoughts.

Marko takes it in. Examines. Maybe. The man was slumped, tired, but tall and built and glaring with hard knuckles. The girl was nearly three sheets to the wind, but with someone who was laughing along, if not nearly as gone. Witness to her.

Paul sighs again, and just leads Marko back to a table.

"What's the poison?" He asks, letting Marko sit, perched on the chair.

"Mm. Screwdriver?"

Paul makes a face. "Lightweight."

Marko presses into the bond. Just them. David, Dwayne, Thorn and Mike were whole states away, and would be unable to do more than mourn if something happened.

Marko doesn't look back, but he can feel the eyes of one of the barkeeps on them.

Paul relents. "Fine. I'll keep it under twenty percent…"

"Thank you," Marko chirps.

Paul slips away to the bar to collect their vice for the evening. Marko lets his eyes roam.

There's a decent amount of people here besides the ones Paul immediately zeroed in on. A group of women, clearly celebrating something. Marko discards them. Too many, and he didn't feel up for playing pretend enough to fool girls like them tonight. A couple of people hanging around the bar, near the door, so clearly not old enough to be drinking anything fermented, let alone the stuff they were looking to try and ply the bartender for. Maybe. Hm. He gave the notion to Paul, to let him mull it over.

Then, in the far corner, a darker space in the already 'mood-lit' main room of the bar, a small gang of people. Three, to be exact. Their clothing was familiar - Marko and the pack knew the style intimately. Grungy jean jackets covered in patches over shirts just a size too big or too small, with faded logos, their shoes taped and repaired and dirty.

Punks, and as Marko lets his senses drift, eyes sharpen and nose take in the air, they were warm. Breathing. Smelling of sweat and a few days unwash, and skin.

He smiles, really pushing this to Paul. He gets a zing of excitement and relief back.

Paul slides back to the table, depositing their order - screwdriver for Marko, a rum and coke for himself.

"Finally, dude," Paul says, "Something decent to drink."

Under those hooded, lazy eyes, pupils dilate as they land on the table of waywards.

Marko can't help but smile just a little too sharply into his glass. "Well, it's been a week. Hunger is the best seasoning."

The night draws on. Marko and Paul sip their drinks, chatting a bit, and then letting their minds wander and twist idly around each other. The doors to the place are marked. Front, a side door to an outside patio space, but it was locked tonight. A backdoor, with a loading bay for product trucks.

The people in the bar diminishes as the hours do the same.

Marko keeps note of the people behind the counter. As humans filtered out, the faint...fur smell could become more apparent. The prickling under Marko's nails and in his gums was getting sharper. 

The peace kept with only the acknowledgement that nothing was to happen within these walls. 

And it wouldn't. The little group was getting up, finally, likely having seen the time and attuned to the impatient glances being thrown their way with every second that ticked past midnight. 

Marko and Paul didn't move with them. Not at first. The three filed up to the front of the bar, paying with a collection of crumpled bills and scattered piles of quarters, and then began shuffling out. 

Marko waited a minute. Two. Then he raised his arms and stretched. In their bond, Paul vibrated like a cut powerline. Easy... 

They get up. They pay. The bartenders watch them go with eyes that gleam yellow-green under the dim lights above. Lips twitching just enough, just enough to show the hint of teeth too long for human canines. 

Marko and Paul are gone before anything can come of it. The gang has emptied onto the street, beginning to walk away to some destination unknown, and unfortunately for them, never reached. There is an industrial park down the way. No streetlights, basically no traffic. Lots of holes to dump a body- 

Marko blinks. 

Something catches his nose. A scent like…blood. 

Animal blood. 

Paul is caught up as well, when Marko’s mental focus shifts so dramatically, so quickly. The gang moves further down the road - and more, and the pair risks losing them. But Marko is still rooted to the spot. Maybe it’s the hunger, a week of nothing and finally being tempted by fresh blood so close, and it is close, Marko knows it. He turns away, and moves back towards the bar, to the alleyway beside it, leading to the back lot. 

The gang of punks is gone. Passed out of sight around the corner of the road.

Paul clicks, a sound inhuman in the back of his throat, confusion and more than a bit of frustration at this point with Marko. But he follows, pure curiosity over what on Earth could have pulled Marko, Marko of all people, from a hunt. 

Marko himself is walking steadily down the alley. He passes masses of empty milkcrates, bottles, and trash. It smelled like tepid water from recent rains, mixing with dirty concrete, old garbage rotting away in the warm air…and that scent of blood. 

At the end of the alley, around a corner of a little outbuilding, is a couple dumpsters. And among those dumpsters, in the deepest shadows behind them, obscuring it, something moves. Paul is at his shoulder, gripping it, watching what he is. 

At first, Marko thinks it might be a raccoon, maybe even a dog…but it doesn’t smell like one. Then, without warning, the thing makes a quick move. Thrashing, flailing, hitting the dumpster’s broad side and shoving it with the force of the slam. From among the detritus, a couple rats scamper, squeaking as they go.  

Pale arms wheel out of the darkness, and make a luck shot. One of the rats, hooked by the fingers. They’re already speckled with blood. It’s pulled back, and the person belonging to the arms, is revealed as they stumble into the minimal light of the alley. 

Marko freezes. Paul’s hands go hard on his shoulders, and his presence in their bond like utter ice. 

A boy, no older than them, crouches on the ground. He’s medium height, his hair dark with a bit of wave, just past his ears. Longer than either of the vampires remember from. The last time. 

Alan Frog hadn’t changed much in three years. Or. Maybe he had.

The rat in Alan’s hands screams as it’s cut into by the knife the boy produces from a pocket. He tosses the knife away almost as soon as he can to not waste a drop of what comes from the animal, mouth latching on through grimy, coarse fur, and taking anything, anything it can give him. Desperate.

Everything seems to happen so fast. 

Marko feels the weight of Paul’s hands leave his shoulders as he rushes forward. In their bond, Paul’s shock has turned into something else. 

It’s frigid, it’s razor sharp, and it’s aimed with unmitigated, utter fury, right at Alan.

Vampiric body shifts in less than a blink of an eye. Limbs lengthening, claws flicking out, teeth, all of the killing ones, elongate and expose themselves in a snarl that splits the night like a crack of lightning. The boy before him doesn’t even know what’s happening, one minute sucking a fucking rat, the next, his neck is grabbed up. Crushed in the grip of a very angry, very hungry, and very, very capable vampire. 

Paul hauls the boy up like he’s a rat himself. The playacting at the Emerson’s house - that was nothing. He’d been angry, but he’d also needed to live for Marko’s sake. To pretend to die so he could come back and the pack could escape. He wasn’t playing now. 

The boy squeals under his grasp, wasting his last few breaths on this Earth. Hand scrabbling at Paul’s arms, legs kicking in the air. His mouth opens, still wet with the blood of the animal he’d caught, lips pulling back to reveal his own teeth, but they’re only a fraction sharper than a human’s. Babyteeth - hah. A cute nickname for the pack’s own fledgeling Michael, who hadn’t accepted his own fangs yet, but here, an insult. Paul shows off every single one of his, long, white, real fangs for tearing past muscle and ligament, hard arterial walls. 

Poor fucker. Just poetic fucking justice. Not so tough without your idiotic brother and your stupid fucking toys. 

Paul leans in, ready, so ready to feel Alan Frog die for what he did, to them all-

“Dont!” 

Paul stumbles as hands with their own long claws grab him, his shoulders and hair, wrenching him off the kill. The kid slides from his grasp, falling to the ground and hacking for air. 

Paul whirls around, shoving himself against Marko’s mind - who shoves right back. Like a slap in the face, cold water over the head. Marko stands, also transformed, but wide-eyed, in shock himself. 

“Marko?” Paul says. 

Hurt. Confused. 

Marko looks down at Alan. Alone. Pressed against the wall. There is a look in his eyes, a look Marko knows well, and knows the feeling behind. It’s why he was here, drinking rats. It’s why he’s not going toe-to-toe with Paul. 

“He’s new,” Marko says softly. Watching the cringing fledgeling, barely fighting back instincts to fly into the street and maim the first person he sees. 

“He almost killed you,” Paul growls, anxious and angry and burning bright. “Marko, they almost-!” 

He cuts himself off, unable to finish the sentence. 

Marko knows. He was there. He felt the pain - both his own, and Paul’s when there was that hideous moment, where the world went black and cold and silent, when he was sure he’d died for the final time. 

Marko stares down at Alan. Slowly, releasing his grasp of Paul’s arm, he moves forward. Paul watches him, and then watches Alan. Every move, every twitch the kid makes. Even slower, Marko crouches onto the concrete, his fangs good and out to show the kid that no, he’s not playing around. 

He stretches a hand towards him. 

But doesn’t withdraw. He lets Marko’s fingers light upon his forehead, trailing down his cheek to his jaw, his neck. Where the pinpricks of Paul’s arrested bite are left. 

Alan whimpers. Ever so slightly leaning into the touch of another being, cold, and familiar. 

More than hungry. 

“...You’re alone, aren’t you?” Marko asks. 

“...Yes,” Alan croaks. 

Alan Frog. An abandoned fledgeling in Santa Carla, found by the two people who have ever reason to kill him here and now, and not even drain him for it. 

Marko’s fingers shift, encircling Alan’s throat. 

“Well ain’t that a bitch, little bird” he says.

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #marko tlb #paul tlb #alan frog #vampires #writing

[sweetestofchaos]

🅑🅛🅐🅒🅚🅣🅞🅑🅔🅡 ➑🅣🅗  

𝒰𝓂𝒷𝓇ℯ𝓁𝓁𝒶 • ①①②③

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝖧𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗈𝗄/𝖠𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖺 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝖭𝗈𝗇!𝖨𝖽𝗈𝗅, 𝖤𝗌𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝖱𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉𝗌  𝐀𝐔/𝐓𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞: 𝖦𝖺𝗇𝗀 𝖠𝖴  𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝖯𝖦𝟣𝟧 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝖯𝖾𝗍 𝖭𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌, 𝖲𝖥𝖶, 𝖩𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝗎𝗍𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗏𝗂𝖾𝗐 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖠𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖺

ᴵᵐᵃᵍᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴳⁱᶠˢ ⁱⁿ ᵐᵒᵒᵈᵇᵒᵃʳᵈ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᴾⁱⁿᵗᵉʳᵉˢᵗ

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Arissa flew into New York yesterday with Hoseok to make her first appearance on The Tonight Show With Jimmy Fallon as his co-host. Vouge had also reached out asking Arissa to be on the cover of their June issue since she is about to host her first ever fashion show through Kim-Jung Enterprise. Jungkook had argued with Arissa to let him come along as a bodyguard, but Arissa declined. Back in the States, Arissa didn’t need the extra protection from Bangtan. She was and will always be the Jayde Heiress, so her family’s power kept her safe. Arissa was excited to be on the tonight show, she enjoyed Jimmy’s humor and thought he was one of the better late-night hosts that was around.

Doing a finale touch up of her makeup, Arissa follows one of the stagehands through the back and she can hear Jimmy as he starts to introduce her. Straightening her posture, Arissa lets the smile pulling at her lips, slip into place and she is told to walk out on stage, waving to the audience. Jimmy stands from his seat and Arissa wraps her arms around his back, giving the older man a hug before she kisses his cheek.

“Wow, Arissa Jayde-Jung, everyone! You look amazing!” Jimmy steps back to allow for Arissa to sit in the chair beside him and she sits down. “T-thank you for coming on the show.”

Arissa smiles with a nod of her head. “Thank you for inviting me. You know, I’ve been a fan of yours for years.”

Jimmy’s eyes widen at Arissa’s confession, and he laughs. “Really? Wow, that’s flattering.” Jimmy takes his seat beside Arissa and look at her. “You know you’re a huge idol and icon to many young people growing up. My daughter’s love watching your fashion vlogs.”

“It’s because of people like your daughter’s that I enjoy what I do, Jimmy. Thought I just really love kids in general! Just today, when Hobi-”

“Hobi? That’s your nickname for your husband, right?”

Arissa nods her head, “Yeah, Hoseok is for when I’m mad at him.” The crowd and Jimmy laugh, knowing what that’s like. “The two of us were coming to the station from the hotel and Hobi was about to call for the driver since it was raining, but I told him we should take the train.”

“The train?”

“Yeah! In South Korea, we get driven everywhere…I miss being able to ride public transportation. So, we get on the train with this huge, oversized umbrella, and everyone is looking at us ‘cause Hobi is dressed in a three-piece suit-” Arissa rolls her eyes and everyone laughs. “and I had on a hoodie dress with heels…so we weren’t really matching.

“This little boy, he had to be maybe four year old at the most. He kept staring at us and I noticed that he was fascinated by Hobi. He jumped out of his seat, walked right over to us, and just crawled into Hobi’s lap.”

Jimmy is shocked and so is the audience. Hoseok always looks so serious and intimidating. “What did your husband do?”

Arissa’s laugh is clear as bells as she continues the story, “The boy’s mother was very apologetic and kept trying to get her son to come back to her, but Hobi just told her not to worry and he let the kid play with his tie. I took a video of the whole thing ‘cause it was too freaking sweet.”

“Did the boy stay with Hoseok the whole ride here?”

“Yep! Even fell asleep on him…left a nice drool spot on his chest. Hobi have the boy’s mom our umbrella and she was really appreciative.”

Arissa and Jimmy plays games with each other and talk about different things. Jimmy announces that they will start Mad Lib Karaoke and Arissa nods her head excited to play.

“So, we’re going to do a karaoke using whatever words come to mind, nouns, verbs, adjectives, okay? Just give me whatever you think of.”

“Should I be worried?”

“No!” Jimmy laughs. “No, no. This is gonna be fun, I promise!” Jimmy looks down at the cards in front of him and smiles. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

“A feeling?”

“Love.”

“Verb?”

“Run.”

“McDonalds menus item?”

“McFlurry.”

Jimmy and Arissa share a look. “When the machine is working.”

Arissa laughs and looks right into the camera, “Fix the machine!”

Jimmy laughs with the audience, “Yes! Please fix the machine.” He clears his throat and continues, “Um...another verb?”

“Hit.”

“Oh! Good one.” Jimmy comments and continues with his questions.

The questions are over, and Jimmy holds up his card, telling everyone that Arissa will being doing mad-lib karaoke to the song Cuff It by Beyonce. Arissa laughs and takes the mic that Jimmy hands her. The music starts to play, and Arissa takes a breath.

I feel like fallin' in love (fallin' love)

I'm in the mood to run something up (tonight, I'm running something up, baby)

I need some McFlurry in my cup (I need a drink)

Hey (pour me a drink)

I'm in the mood to hit something up (I'm in the mood to hit something up)

I wanna go swimming

I need a Dachshund

I wanna go higher, do you like me? (Ou la-lala, lala)

I wanna go where nobody's skipped (wanna go where nobody's skipped)

Have you ever had kimchi like this? (Have you ever had kimchi?)

The song ends and Arissa is giggling while Jimmy is surprised that her words fit so well. They do another round of mad-libs and after that it’s time to end the show with Thank You Notes.

Arissa walks out of the studio with a black umbrella that says The Late-Night Show in white over her head after signing a few autographs and taking some photos with fans. The red dress from the show has been replaced with her black hoodie dress and Arissa sighs when she sees Hoseok standing out front beside a sleek black car with a dark blue umbrella in his hand.

“Did you have fun, peach?” Hoseok questions as he pulls Arissa into his arms and presses a kiss to her lips.

“Mmmm,” Arissa nods her head and kisses Hoseok again. “It was a lot of fun. I think people will get a few laughs.” Arissa steps under Hoseok’s umbrella and folds her closed before she stares up at Hoseok. “Were you waiting long for me?”

Hoseok shakes his head and opens the back door for Arissa before he closes his own umbrella and follows in behind her, “Wanna grab a late dinner?”

“Can we get ice cream?”

Hoseok huffs out a laugh and tells the driver to take them to the best ice cream spot that he knows.

#soc blacktober #jayde heiress #soc bts #bts gang au #bts fluff #bts x black!oc #day 8 #umbrella #soc hoseok #bts sfw #jhope x black!oc #jung hoseok x black!oc

[quantumstarpaths]

STUDY: PAUL STAMETS

—    basics.

▸     is your muse tall/short/average?

average, 5′8″

▸     are they okay with their height?

yeah he really doesn’t care. EXCEPT. when people he’s trying to be mean to (lorca) are taller than him, then he gets annoyed about it. he doesn’t like having to look up at people when he’s chewing them out.

▸     what’s their hair like?

blonde! soft. starting to grey on the temples and thin just a little in back.

▸     do they spend a lot of time on their hair/grooming?

he likes to make sure its neat and in place, but no

▸     does your muse care about their appearance/what others think?

nope!

—    preferences.

▸    indoors or outdoors?     outdoors ▸    rain or sunshine?     rain! bc then the mushrooms come ▸    forest or beach?     forest ▸    precious metals or gems?     metals ▸    flowers or perfumes?     flowers ▸    personality or appearance?     personality ▸    being alone or being in a crowd?     alone ▸    order or anarchy?     order ▸    painful truths or white lies?     painful truths ▸    science or magic?     science ▸    peace or conflict?     peace ▸    night or day?     night ▸    dusk or dawn?     dawn ▸    warmth or cold?     comfortable ▸    many acquaintances or a few close friends?     a few close friends ▸    reading or playing a game?    reading

—    questionnaire.

▸     what are some of your muse’s bad habits?

he defaults into closing himself off around people. really easily slips into workaholism. doesn’t always give other people a chance to try their ideas because he assumes he’s right. he...overcompensates when sympathizing which can make people more uncomfortable.

▸     has your muse lost anyone close to them? how has it affected them?

he’s lost! well he lost justin and then hugh, and then...just about everyone else that was close to him that wasn’t on discovery. which really in my hcs is just his sister and not really anyone else but like. but it made him sad. but it also...kinda made him open up a little more to the people he had left? like he got. softer after hugh died. sadder for sure, but yk told tilly about the opera n shit.

▸     what are some fond memories your muse has?

A few childhood memories with his dad or sister, but most of his happy memories aren’t until the Enterprise, where he finally made friends for the first time in his life.

▸     is it easy for your muse to kill?

well. he never has killed anyone. but i really don’t think it would be. he may be a misanthrope but his work is for the purpose of life. and he doesn’t want to kill. that isn’t him. he’s a scientist.

▸     is your muse capable of trusting someone with their life?

yeah! if he trusts them enough. he trusts hugh and tilly, and did canonically trust tilly with his life. it’s not something he likes to do, as he really likes to have control over things, but he does trust them with his life, even if he doesn’t want to put his life in their hands.

▸     what’s your muse like when they’re in love?

hes! softer. maybe not as a general rule, but to them. he might not necessarily be more observant in all cases, but in some he is. (he needs to be told when something’s wanted from him, but he’s filed away the location of every freckle). he isn’t always the best partner, and is actually frequently not a good one, can definitely get into a place of taking them for granted, but he’s gonna love them with everything he’s got. if you have a problem you HAVE to tell him, but then he’ll do what he can to fix it.

Tagged by: me <3

Tagging: you!

#* DASH GAMES. #* HEADCANON. #* ABOUT.