#I'm also trying to come up with a new name for him that fits with my lair's naming scheme

[nohhhdrr]

I have a favorite quote from one of there dpxdc blogs. "Nothing snaps the bat out if like sudden fatherhood" and I think it fits here perfectly. Suddenly, like in all the other dad-red hood posts, he sees that his plans need REALLY big reworking. It's really fucking dangerous for a baby. That's maybe how his relationships with bats becomes slightly less angry. He would still be an unknown and a VERY dangerous variable, considering he's an unknown alien in their eyes, even more so. He would become of a much lesser degree of urgency, yes. Like they probably stop going out of their way to catch him, with time. But he would still be considered a rouge. Just a slightly lower priority one. (I think Batman wouldn't not want to help Red hood. But I think he would think about it only after he captured him. He's still a criminal in the eyes of the law. So I think he would call GL to help him identify Red hood's species in attempt to find any weaknesses and check if Red hood was telling the truth about the pregnancy stuff. (Batman is nothing but his research))

And Nightwing is the one to come closer to talk.

Jason on the other hand is freaking out and quickly trying to rebuild his most secure hideout to be safe for an infant. Because in no way his large collection of guns laying everywhere (on the floor in the fridge, in the walls, you name it) is safe for a baby. It takes his a week and a half to sort things out, make a birth sertificate, make sure his civilian cover is as separate from red hood as possible and make a nursery. Danny (he decided to name the kid after his brother, the only male family member that hadn't betrayed him yet or was a total asshole.) Danny was a strange child. Much calmer then usual infants but he wasn't eerely silent like in these horror movies. He cried, he laughed, he smiled and he definitely protested after he saw Jason make toast for himself that one time. Jason didn't really know how he feels about Danny. He loves him. He wants to protect him so much the meer thought of Danny being hurt in any way makes him take deep breaths to not freak the baby out. He just... He doesn't think he's cut out for this. But at the same time... he cant bear the thought of someone taking Danny away from him. That's his baby! His ball of laughter and happiness. The only thing keeping him afloat right now! He can't bear to be away from him for more then a couple of hours (And only after making sure the nany has everything under control). By all means, Danny is a normal kid, no big abnormalities or powers or anything like that! He can take and place Danny in a good foster home, look after him from a distance. But just like when he first found Danny. When Danny still was a round rock of strange origin. When he took him everywhere with him. When he woke up in the grave and the first thoughts in his mind were. Where am I? and Where is Danny? (Not that he could remember that. Brain damage, loa and all that sweet sweet manipulation from talia didn't help with that at all) Just like then he couldn't let go of Danny. Right now even more so. Danny isn't some durable round rock right now. He's a squishy baby! Babies die all the time! From just rolling on their fronts and suffocating, for fucks sake! Basically Jason is having a big old crisies about how he wasn't prepared for this, how he's in no way a good parent right now, his revenge plan and all sorts of stuff. while taking care of Danny. Batfam on the other hand are kinda freaking out. This new crime-lord is some sort of alien, supernatural, meta??? And was pregnant while making a duffle bag stuffed with heads?! What!? I'm also curious if Damian is already there in batfam. He probable should be. But then he would just say "Tt. You are imbiciles. Hood is human." then they would ask him why does he think that "Mother wouldn't let an alien in the league" But that also depends of he met jason in the league or not. We can just go with the canon and say he never met Jason and seen nothing. I'm also really curious if Talia ever tried to take away the rock from jason or try to manipulate him with it. Because it would be a very her thing to do but I don't know how it will go down.

# 14 dcxdp

Danny is trapped in his core and gifted to Jason todd

[yiqi-fr]

A WIP of Manju, the founder of my clan's village!

[youremyonlyhope]

I'm not a "new musical theatre style music" person. Never have been.

Even when I was doing voice lessons, I'd steer towards the golden age or jazzy musical theatre songs. My voice teacher would have to drag me kicking and screaming towards adding anything new musical theatre to my repertoire. For a while, the most modern song in my book was I Know The Truth from Aida, and I wouldn't count that as new musical theatre style since I mean more the Pasek&Paul or Joe Iconis type.

And now I have an audition coming up for a small production of a show in that style and I'm supposed to sing a song in a similar style. And I'm looking at all my sheet music like... let me do some Cole Porter... or Gershwin... at least Sondheim please...

[vviltrumite]

— teenage fantasy ୭ˎˊ˗

⚛ mark grayson x you

wc :: 4,316 ( 23,442 char . )

rating :: nsfw

synopsis :: your brother started hanging out with this new kid—mark, you think his name is? you wondered why this new person was seemingly always around your brother, and tonight when he sleeps over you finally find out why.

contents :: brothers best friend , riding , slight age gap , sub mark , little plot , reader pov , mark is a little weirdo with a crush on u......

a/n :: I LOVE SUBMISSIVE MARK GRAYSON!!!!!!pushed the timeline of this back for the sole purpose of creating an age gap between u and mark. why? because i freaking felt like it ok maybe i like em younger. he's a sophomore, ur a senior. also for the sake of convenience were just gonna pretend that ur on the pill. ok? ok.

edit: Lol tumblr being stupid and deleted 3 paragraphs of writing but it's ok we fixed it😅ahaha😅😅I'm gonna shoot myself😅

Your brother had never been too ecstatic about friends. Not that he didn't want them, it was the actually keeping them part that he struggled with. Seemed like he could never keep the company of a friend for longer than a few months before they fell out with eachother, and whenever you would try to ask about it he would dismiss your attempt by simply saying something along the lines of "We just don't have time to talk as much anymore." or, "They're busy with sports and crap."

But more recently you've noticed that your brother was hanging out with someone new, and this time it was different. He would never fail to show up at your house during the weekends, always finding his way to your living room to play video games with your brother or making room for himself to fit in with whatever your family might have had going on that day, whether it be a dinner out at a restaurant, or even a trip to the movies, he always found time to tag along. He was practically part of the family, and it seemed like him and your brother were actually getting along quite nicely. You'd hear them from his room laughing about something unbeknownst to you just one wall over, or yelling about a game they were playing on his console and it made you glad to know that your brother finally had someone to confide in.

The boy seemed sweet with good intentions. Mark, you think his name is? Black hair with a few strands that never fail to stray from the combed back neatness of the rest of his hair and brown eyes that remind you of a warm coffee on a Saturday morning that you sip when your eyes are still tired and droopy, still on the edge of sleep but not quite. It would be a lie to say he wasn't handsome, but you never really gave him much more thought than that. You go to the same school as him, he's just two grades below you in his sophomore year with grades that aren't yet failing but theres still potential for them to be a lot better, but you chose to give him the benefit of the doubt since you heard from multiple sources that his father died in a car crash at the start of the year, so who knows how he's coping with that.

But that's not the point. the point is, Mark is now practically best friends with your brother and tonight, since your parents are away on a date, he's invited Mark to sleep over. Not that you really cared, you didn't pay him too much mind whenever he would come over since he wasnt your friend anyways. You mostly occupied the time in your room, but you never failed to notice the way he would try extra hard not to look at you whenever you made an appearance and still finding himself unsuccessful. Always stealing quick glances over to you and whatever you were doing. Always noticing the way he suddenly adorned a stutter—something which he had never had before, whenever he'd speak to your brother, pitching his voice an octave louder enough for you to hear.

Your day went on as it usually did, aside from those quick glances that Mark prayed you didn't notice. You always did, but never thought much of it. Maybe he was just intimidated by you, or something? You called your friends, made plans for the following morning, and before you knew it, the smell of food downstairs caught your attention. Glancing at the clock on your phone, it was now six, so you assume the smell downstairs is dinner.

Heading to your kitchen you realize that your brother and Mark had made french fries and were sharing them on a big plate on the counter. You help yourself to a fry, quickly snatching one from the plate before your brother has the opportunity to swat your hand away.

You crack a smile when he almost chokes on the fry he popped into his mouth when he turns to see you, and that only seems to make his cheeks redden. he tries making an attempt at playing it off by pressing the crook of his shoulder against his mouth and coughing into the faded blue of his cotton sweater sleeve, trying to disguise the malfunction, but any attempt he makes at hiding his embarrassment only points it out further.

"Get outta here! Those aren't even for you, make your own." He protests, stopping himself from extending his arm to push you back once he realizes he acted too late and that you've already succeeded in stealing a fry.

Rolling your eyes at his stubbornness, you retort. "You literally made the whole bag, you're not even gonna eat all that." You point out, grinning only because you find pleasure in annoying him.

He grumbles out a defeated "Whatever," only because Mark is here, and he doesn't want to cause a scene. But obviously you know your brother well enough to make the assumption that if Mark wasn't here, the stolen fry would be a much bigger deal than it is right now. But instead of taking advantage of this, you raise your white flag in surrender and instead make your way to the fridge, grabbing your leftovers from the fast food place you ordered takeout at a day and a half ago, reheating it before you head up to your room and feeling Mark's eyes on you the entire time.

You've just finished your shower by the time Mark and your brother are retired to his room for the night. It's late, probably eleven, but maybe closer to twelve, you're not sure because haven't checked the time. Your phone is in the bathroom, but you figure that you can just grab it when you're done changing since it isn't on the top of your list of priorities right now.

What is on the top of that list though, is changing into pajamas. Back turned from your bedroom door, you rummage through the top drawer of your dresser, trying to find that one tanktop you own, the black one. The one you have probably ten carbon copies of, but for some reason you want that tanktop in particular. Just as you set your eyes on it and move to pick it up, a noise at your bedroom door alerts you.

It's Mark. And you can tell by his expression that his heart lurches in his chest until it bobs in his throat when he sees you in nothing but a towel that clings loosely to your frame, the creak of the door in protest as he opens it had given you a split second to acknowledge his presence. It blows his cover and interrupts you just as you were about to let the towel fall down to your ankles. You to gasp as you whip your head around fast enough to see his face flush bright red and his hands that shoot up to cover his eyes immediately.

"Oh, my God, I'm so sorry, I— I didn't even realize you were— Jeez, that's so embarrassing. I'm sorry, I was just trying to bring you your— I'll go, sorry." He rushes, stumbling over his words that spew out from past his lips at a mile a minute, faster than he can comprehend despite his Viltrumite capabilities. He quickly turns on his heel and sheepishly reaches for the doorknob to walk himself out.

Your eyes meet his hand, where your phone rests in his palm and you know you should just let him leave it in the hall, but something in you, some unstoppable force that acts for you before the rational thought to stop and let him go even crosses your mind, and you step forward, then again, and the one more time until your hand is curled over his shoulder, effectively causing him to freeze in place. "Wait," you pause, tone sounding pitched and hesitant like you were holding something back, carefully pausing your breath between each word as if one wrong move could ruin the moment and send him off.

Until he doesn't. He doesn't leave, he doesn't brush you off and close the door behind him like he knows he should. He doesn't even say anything. Wordless as he turns to face you, and you realize he isn't scaring away anytime soon. He was cute, you admit, and the smile he lets tug at the corners of his mouth after his eyes graze over your almost naked form is contagious. He's younger, but stands taller than you by just a few inches and you figure.. Why not? He's clearly interested, and this obviously wasn't an accident. So why not let him indulge in this fantasy, if only for just one night? What do you have to lose?

"Is he...?" Tilting your head, letting your eyes flit behind you to the door, opened just a crack to let the strands of light from the hallway shed into your bedroom and bounce off of Marks shoulder, painting a thin line of hazy yellow against the carpet and walls of your bedroom.

He nods, shaking breath exhaled from his lips in a quick uneven sigh, his hand reaches behind him to click the door shut softly behind you both before bringing them back and letting the palm of his hands find home around the dip in your waist, skin warm against the cool of the towel that drapes around you. "Yeah, he's.. yeah."

Taking his hand and intertwining your fingertips with his, you guide him to your bed where he sits. Mark looks dazed and dreamy, like he can't tell if he's awake or not, can't believe this stupid teenage fantasy of his is actually happening, and that makes you giggle. You tell him to lay back and he does, the erection that strains from under his clothes becoming evident when he looks up at you from where his head rests on your pillow. He's unable to help it when his eyes rake over you again, greedily taking in the way your towel hangs loosely around you, threatening to slip at any second, and your hair falls messily over your shoulders. Perfectly unkempt and knotted in some places where you hadn't combed through it with a brush, but still somehow retaining some of its neatness in the mess.

It would be a lie to say he didn't roughly sketch this whole scenario out in his head. He knew when you got out of the shower and intentionally made his way to the bathroom when you left, only to realize you had forgotten your phone. Originally, he was just going to return it to you when you were done changing, find an excuse to talk to you even just briefly. But then the thought of maybe getting to see you bare crossed his mind, and it was too good of an opportunity to pass up. He didn't want to wait. He didn't mean to open the door that much, didn't know it would creak in response to his weight when he leaned into it. And the last thing he expected was for you to reciprocate whatever it was he felt in that moment when you saw him. But... he wasn't against it, either.

You join him on your bed, letting your hand stroke over his pajama pants for a quick moment before you bring one leg over his and adjust yourself until you're comfortable on top of him, straddling with both of your legs at either side of his body. You don't miss the way his breath hitches when you suddenly lean in, supporting your weight with a hand that plants itself on his chest and folds underneath you when you close some of the distance between your faces. He looks about ready to kiss you, lips parted in a mix of what's probably both preperation and shock. but when you don't, he regards you curiously, the question unspoken but obvious in the air between you.

"You're sure you want to do this?" You ask, just to be safe, and he nods again. If your brother finds out about this, he'll be crushed, and Mark is old enough to know that he shouldn't be doing something like this. And so are you, to be fair. But it's obvious to the both of you that no one cares what you should or shouldn't be doing right now, too lost in the heat of your bodies as you press into one another and eventually finding your way to his lips, meeting him with a kiss.

It's slow at first, hesitant and experimental and filled with nervousness, but the action of your lips molding over his becomes more steady, more sure as his hands trace your sides in a caressing up and down movement, fervorous and quickly desperate for more. And after a moment he hooks his fingers around the top of your towel. A question, and when you pull back from him just to give him a smile that never fails to make him trip, an answer.

You hear it when his breath hitches in his throat at the sight of you fully exposed once the towel is discarded on the floor next to your bed. He lets his eyes travel down your body, taking all of you in. Mark looks almost awestruck, nervous to touch you the wrong way as if you were a porcelain statue to be displayed in a museum. You take his obvious hesitation as an invitation to guide him instead, and place the palm of his hand on one of your breasts before leaning in to take his lips in another kiss. He lets out a muffled noise against your mouth that you swallow up in response, and you feel his obvious erection pressing against you through his pants.

in a beat, the kiss becomes sloppy, messy and quickly not enough. You find yourself starved for more in an instant and before either of you realize, you're already fumbling with the drawstring that loops through his pants, working to untie them while his hands remain on your chest, preoccupied with molding the soft skin like puddy in his palm, an action that makes you moan softly, only really audible over the sound of your own breathless panting when you draw back from his lips to breathe.

"I don't think i should be the only naked one here." you suggest, your tone teasing. the sentence makes his eyes look over your body once again until he brings his gaze back up to you, and it's then that you notice his cheeks marooning once again, a small action that makes you grin.

"Yeah, probably." He agrees with a breathy, nervous laugh, shrugging your hands off of his chest for a moment so that he can lift his shirt off with ease, one hand pulling it over his head while the other remains firm on your waist. And it joins your towel on the ground seconds later.

His chest rises and falls unevenly, but thats not the thing that shocks you the most. You never would have guessed it since hes always wearing loose fitting clothes whenever you see him, but he's a lot more muscular than you imagined. Tracing over his defined stomach with your fingertips as you lean in to kiss him again is like charting over unexplored territory, grazing along each curve and dip in his abs.

And then you traverse lower across his skin until you're met with the fuzzy cotton of his plaid pajama pants once again and this time you don't falter. your index and middle finger curl to make room for themselves around the waistband and you shift just enough to tug them down to his knees. Mark doesn't protest and allows the action, lifting his hips slightly to help you.

Once his pants have been shrugged off, the hardness in his boxers is all the more evident, and it takes minimal effort to have them shrugged down as well. in moments his cock is exposed and you glance back up at him when you hear Mark suck in a breath through his teeth as the cool air of your bedroom envelops him.

"Still sure you want to?" You ask, glaring down at him through your eyelashes. There's still time for him to back out of this, if he really wants to. But it's clear that he doesn't when he nods and wraps his hands around your waist at either side. Not holding you down, but the action makes it clear that he doesn't plan on leaving anytime soon.

"Yeah, I'm sure, just.. please," His voice comes out a hoarse whisper, pleading and more desperate than he would've liked. He looks dazed, lidded eyes glazed over with something akin to need in the pupil and something about the way he says it, asks you so nicely, so sweetly despite the husky tone in the undercurrent of his words makes your stomach knot with a heat that begs to be untangled.

You look back down at his cock, flushed tip weeping and dewy with pre. your hand makes way to his shaft, offering a few slow strokes down to the base and back up to his tip where your thumb grazes over his hole, coating your fingertip in a sticky substance that smudges off when you bring your hand back down. the action makes him gasp like he clearly didn't expect you to move so suddenly, and he can't help but thrust lightly against the movement, his arousal evident when he whimpers through his bitten lip.

But when you pause yet again, he looks confused. mouth popped open, just slightly agape while his eyebrows pinch together. The silent question of "Whyd you stop?" on the edge if his lips, but he doesn't say it out loud. The air between you two is thick with want and a licentious desire to have your needs fulfilled hangs heavy in the space around you, in the darkness of your room.

The question doesn't remain unanswered for long, because in a second you're shifting to lift your hips up, hovering there for a quick, fleeting moment before lining the tip of him with your entrance. It takes him a second to realize what you're doing, but you give him time for the gears turning in his head to spin clearly. And once they do, his tongue flits out to lick over the edge of his lips and in an instant you've planted yourself down on top of him again, adjusted this time so that he fills you instead, and you feel his length twitch inside you at the sudden but certainly not unwelcome action.

Marks hands which had parted from your waist when you lifted yourself quickly find their way back home and he lets out a noise similar to a groan when you roll your hips against him, feeling the way your walls expand and clench around him and letting his gaze fall back to your bedroom ceiling, basking in the warmth of your body on top of him, rising and falling as you grind above him.

The whole ordeal is rather silent save for your ragged breaths and whimpers you muffle through bitten lips and stolen kisses. It's almost transactional, and you both have a clear understanding of what you're here for. This, the guilty pleasure you derive from mark inside you, and you around him. and nothing more. But still there's something that swims in the small amount of light reflecting in his eyes. Something that flickers for a brief moment, barely noticeable unless you were paying attention. Something that suggests their could be more to this, if you're willing to take that risk.

Mark looks back up at you, resisting the urge to let his eyes flutter shut simply because the sight of your body, the way your tits bounce with each rise and fall of your movements, it's something he doesn't want to miss a second of. And in fact it's almost too much—and if he wasn't trying as hard as he was to restrain himself right now, he would have came already. He keeps his hands on you the entire time, following the natural curve of your waist as he carefully slides up your side to knead at the soft flesh of your boobs once again.

You lean down until you're pressed flush againsthim once again, mouth on his partially to silence him, but mostly just to taste his lips. You're drinking up the sound of each quiet moan he can't help but pour out into you, feeling the way you rock your hips against him and getting lost in the rhythm. Carefully, you bring your mouth lower, sloppily pressing kisses deep enough to leave hickies into his collarbone and chest. The action is quick, hungry and almost primal as if you cant decide whether to bite softly at his skin or kiss him. Or if there was even a way to differentiate the two at this point. He lets a hand free from your side simply to find his way to your hair, pressing you impossibly closer in order to keep you there, clinging to you like if he let himself get too lost in the feeling then youd vanish.

Bringing yourself back up to admire your work, you let your eyes examine the hickies you placed carelessly on his body. You were merciful enough to not leave any in plain sight, lord knows how furious your brother would be if he woke up and saw Mark's neck riddled hickies that border on bruises. They mostly decorate where the neck of his shirt would start, easily able to be hidden away with a shirt overtop of them.

Soon, you find Mark holding you down against him, making the action of rolling your hips on his cock a challenge. But he takes the liberty of doing that for you, hands at your sides to guide you as he desperately thrusts deep enough into your pussy to hit your cervix and you arch closer to him as he pulls out, tip dragging over that spot that makes your stomach flutter and eyes roll back only to press into you again and again each time.

"Mark, I—" Your words are cut off by a moan that he quickly moves to cover with his mouth, hand grasping in your hair and tugging lightly to more easily bring you to his lips. He parts from you when the sound has faded and gone, and you bite your lip to prevent anything more from slipping.

"Shh," He hushes you, glancing for a split second to your bedroom door. Still shut, but your walls are thin, so the fact that you both need to be as quiet quiet as possible is non-negotiable right now. "I know, I know." He whispers against the side of your neck, kissing lightly at the sensitive skin there. The hand previously at your side wraps around you and runs over your back, curving as he feels over the way you arch into him in order to help his length fuck deeper into you.

In a moment, his voice is in your ear, whispering what almost sounds like nonsense, too drunk off the feeling of your walls fluttering around him with each thrust inside you that grows more rapid, more intense with each passing second. But you quickly decipher his words, despite the fact that they're short, breathy and would be inaudible if he weren't pressed so close against you. "Fuck, I.. I can't, I'm gonna.." He whispers the words like a mantra. You've never heard him curse before, so the fact that he is only serves to encourage your movements as you roll your hips with him inside you.

The action seems to push him over the edge with one final moan that causes a shiver to snake its way through your entire body, and soon after you feel the warmth of the white-hot ropes that are his come filling you, his hips stuttering, continuing to work his way through the orgasm with lazy thrusts as everything pumps out of him and into you. You follow suit soon after, the feeling of his release inside you being just enough to coax out a much needed orgasm of your own, the knot that had been tangling and building itself up inside you quickly dissolving as a blinding euphoria causes everything around you to dissolve for what feels like forever.

You're reduced to a boneless heap on top of him, unmoving with his cock still inside you. What remains of his semen dripping out of you like hot lava that oozes out of you, sticky and all too overwhelming. You both lay like that for a while, until eventually the time comes where Mark needs to leave. Return to your brothers room before he notices the disappearance. You're lifted off of him with ease and he lays you back on your bed with all the care in the world, making sure to leave you with a final kiss on your lips once his clothes are back on and you've both collected yourselves.

Once he leaves, and you hear the door to your brothers room click shut with a sense of finality, you realize one of two things is going to happen now. This could become a regular thing, one that you'll have to try and hide from your brother as well as sneak past your family, or this could be a one time thing. A spurr of the moment decision that will be glossed over and soon forgotten in a week's time. Some part of you, deep down, hopes for the latter.

[yoiisa]

HIII SOFIE <3!

I wanted to makes wind breaker x reader request! How about one where their s/o is like WHIPPED for them. Like hear me out, they write about the boys like almost every single day and gush over pictures they took of them, their looks and literally every single move of the boys. They just SIMP so bad for them 💔💔

But, the s/o doesn't show this side that much. They think the wbk boys would be weirded out and try to control their overbearing affection, keeping it on the down low.

But then the wbk boys find their diary/notes app with like hundreds of notes/diary entries about the boys and like the gallery about them and whatever else. As for the conclusion, s/o dies from overheating!

And could you do this for Sakura, Suou and Kaji??

Thank you for reading💞💞

not a chalant bone in y/n's body . . . real tho

➜ sakura haruka is also short circuiting whenever he sees you ➜ the fact that you act so nonchalant in front of him just makes him angry because the least you could do for him is match his energy ➜ when he finds your diaries, he honestly is weirded out a bit, though not because he's shocked as to how much you love him ➜ after all he still knows that you care about him ➜ but he it shocked because he's like why the fuck doesn't she show it around me?!

"[name] are you ready yet?" sakura asks, leaning back on his hands as he sits on your bed. "Almost, I'm just gonna put some jewelry on first and then we can leave," you say rushing off into the bathroom. He sighs and calls out, "Togame told us to get there early so we could hang out with him before he has to work another stand. Hurry up!" "Yeah, yeah." He rolls his eyes at your dismissive tone and looks around your room. Suddenly, his eyes land on a notebook, left wide open on the floor. It's half tucked under your bed though, and Sakura bends over and plucks it up from the floor. In blue ink, all over beige colored pages, is your scrawls about him and the conversation you had yesterday: oh my god, sakura is so cute! today he asked me to come with him to a summer festival that one of his friends invited him to. he looked so sweet and shy AHHHHHHHH his face was all red and chubby i wanted to pinch his cheek and give him kisses oml he's perfect i'm so lucky to be his girlfriend!! You exit the bathroom and you're halfway through saying something, when those thoughts get thrown out the window. "Haruka! Why are you reading my diary?!" you cry, snatching it from his hand and practically chucking it across the room. "What the hell man?" "What hell me? What the hell you!" he says, his face the same shade as a fire hydrant. "What was that?" "W-what was what? What did you read?" you ask. "Your entry from yesterday!" he says and realization dawns on you. Oh, you'd been in a fit of cuteness aggression, and had haphazardly written down the entry. "Oh, that," you mutter. "Yeah, that," he says, and runs a hand through his hair. "How come you never talk to me like that? You're always so . . . normal around me." You giggle and turn his head so that he sees himself in the mirror. "Look at yourself. Look how read you are." When Sakura sees your point, he just nods and grabs your wrist. "Okay, okay, let's just go already."

➜ suo hayato instantly clocks the fact that you're faking how "normal" you are in front of him ➜ he doesn't really care that much though, because if anything it just makes you cuter in his eyes ➜ when he finds your diaries and flips through them, he only finds you even cuter! i mean who wouldn't ➜ you're literally waxing poetics about how mysterious and cool he is and it's the closest he comes to just bursting out into laughter

Suo walks into your bedroom after you, closing the door behind you. "Alright, these are the clothes I got yesterday," you say pulling bags off of your dresser. Your diary falls on the floor, but you don't notice it, to one-track minded on showing Suo the new shirts and skirt you got. "I'll go try them on?" Suo tears his eyes away from the diary on the floor and nods. "Okay." He watches you disappear into your walk in closet, and once the door is shut (perhaps against his better judgement), he picks up the diary and reads the page it opened up to: Dear Diary, I wonder if Suo actually likes me as much as he says he does. I know he's really sweet all the time, but I can't help feeling like this. Maybe it's just cuz he's so cool and . . . nonchalant (omg i can't believe I wrote that out loud). I try to match his energy as best as I can but still, sometimes I worry that I'm still too much. I just love him so much, I don't want him to think I'm boring. Hopefully he doesn't! He hears the closet door opening and chucks the diary behind him. He stands at attention as you step out, twirling as you show off the new maxi skirt you got. "What do you think?" you ask, but before you can even get another thought in your head, Suo comes up to you and hugs you tight. One hand wraps around your shoulders and the other cradles the back of your head against his chest. "I love you," he whispers. "I love you too . . . are the clothes that cute?" you ask sheepishly, slowly returning the hug. He smiles and kisses the top of your head. "Yes, [name]. They're cute, you're always cute." He pinches your cheeks as they turn red and kisses your forehead.

➜ kaji ren is more calmed down by the fact that you are so chill around him ➜ he doesn't feel as nonchalant around you though, so the fact that you are seemingly able to keep your head when he's around is able to keep him relatively calm ➜ however, that gets flipped on its head when he finds your diary ➜ when you stumble upon him after he'd looked through it all, he looks ready to completely combust ➜ it heavily triggered his cuteness aggression and he spends the rest of the day stubbornly holding your hand and refusing to let you go

Kaji barely got any sleep last night. He'd spent the night over at your house, and he was way too nervous to properly sleep at all. You went to bed around midnight, whereas he went to sleep at 2 AM. His heart felt like it was about to explode those entire two hours, but finally he fell asleep when his exhaustion outweighed his anxiety. When he woke up, you were already awake, sitting with your back to the headboard. You look down at him and away from the book you were writing in and smile. "You finally awake sleepyhead?" you ask, patting his head. He hums and nuzzles into your pillows. You laugh and say, "Okay, I'm gonna go to the bathroom first. I didn't wanna go while you were still asleep." You close the book and set it on the nightstand, before slipping out from underneath the covers. Kaji stays still in bed for a while, before he lifts his head and his eyes zero in on the book on your bedside table. He reaches for the book, curious to see if you were drawing something. He flips open to the bookmarked page, removing the pink ribbon and tossing it back over the cover. His eyes widen as he sees what you were writing. he's so cute, oh my god. he's sleeping right next to me right now, and it's the first time he's spent the night over at my house!! I hope he's comfortable, and not too cramped. Oh my god, his cheek is so squishy! Imma paste a photo later next to this page, but I took a photo of him sleeping and his cheek is all squished against the pillow. wait, lemme just . . . i just pinched his cheek! oh my god he'd never let me do that if he was awake, i win! Kaji slams the book shut, not able to read anymore. He puts the book back on the nightstand and practically jumps off of your bed. He leaves your bedroom and sees you exiting your bathroom. "Kaji, what's wrong? Why's your face so red?" you ask. "Did you pinch my cheek while I was asleep?" "Huh? N-no, why?" you stammer. "I . . . I just thought I felt something before I woke up," he mutters. There's no way in hell he's telling you that he read your diary. You find out still though, since Kaji didn't bother to put the ribbon back anyways.

[jjonqseob]

spicy dating mingi headcannons

pairing: bf!mingi & f!reader

genre: smut

tws: this is pure smut (i'm too lazy to name everything)

author's note: i'm so, sooo sorry for the wait. also, i got a little bit too carried away with this one... but i hope this is what you were hoping for, anon! btw, all this came out of my head, i'm so sorry i just love this man so fucking much. and as always, ignore if there are any grammatical errors or i might die fr. eng is not my first language. MDNI!!!

i think every time would be like the first, he'd say something like "stop laughing! you're making me even more nervous!" because despite being a couple for so long, he always gets nervous at first, but then... yeah…

he's a damn switch (u can't change my mind ab this). do you want to top him? of course. do you want him to top you? of course. but he would enjoy being a subby more... although he might never admit it.

it's incredible how easily he gets turned on and fucking hard. did you kiss him on the neck? he's already getting a damn boner, and don't even get me started when you sit on his lap. it might be a tender moment, but if you move, even just a little bit, you'd feel a bulge underneath you.

he LOVES you touching him. your hands feel so good, no matter the context. he just loves how your little hands feel on him. are you walking hand in hand? are your hands in his hair while you kiss him? you're sitting on the couch, and you let him lie on your lap? he just loves your touch and having you close.

i also feel like he'd always be open to trying new things with you, both because he loves you and out of simple curiosity. besides, who knows? maybe he'll discover something new he likes.

dirty talk. he's SO into that it's embarrassing. If you're on your knees in front of him, looking at him with those big, pleading eyes, he won't be able to help but say, "open up. let's see how much can fit today that pretty mouth of yours." if he's eating your pussy, he won't stop saying how delicious you taste, how beautiful all the cute sounds are that come out of your lips while his tongue works rigorously on your needy cunt. and if he's fucking you, my god, he'd never keep quiet, he'd always point out how good it feels like your insides squeeze his cock with every thrust, how wet you always are for him, how well you take every inch like the good, pretty good girl you are.

this man moans a lot. don't ask me why, but i know. it you give him a short, little kiss, he'll let out a small moan. if you pull his hair while you're kissing? yes, a moan. and don't even talk about when he eats your pussy. he'd moan more than you.

and the last point brings me to this next point, we all know mingi is a pussy eater, i even feel like it's kind of obvious (he told me himself cause we're besties, duh) he just loves watching you squirm when he uses his mouth on you, you squeezing his head with your legs, the way you pull his hair, burying his face even more between your legs, the way you cum in his mouth, the mess you made on his face… and of course he would swallow everything.

this man is SOOOO into recording or taking pics of both of you while: you jerking him off, you give him a blowjob, you ride him, and recording himself while he eats you out? he's definitely gonna jerk off with that damn video while he's on tour (*cof, cof* link…)

he's so needy… but like, always. i feel like sometimes he wouldn't even notice. like when he rubs his morning boner against your ass while he's half asleep, or when a simple kiss turns into a shower of moans (obviously from him), he just enjoys it too much, but can you blame him? he's just so in love, and he loves you so much, and you turn him on so damn easily.

slaps. yeah… but he likes to receive them, and if you're riding him? good lord, do you want to kill him? you, riding him so well while he looks at you with that silly, lovelorn, aroused expression before feeling a soft, warm hand hit his cheek, followed by your lips against his... one day, you'll kill him. ALSO, maybe he's also into choking… receiving and giving, but more than receiving cause he's a damn freak.

loves LOVES watching his cock slide into your pussy, how you take every inch so well, how your ass bounces with every thrust, he could cum just watching you.

he's… quite big, and he knows it, and when he sees how your eyes get watery from trying to take his cock completely down your throat it makes him feel dizzy, you just drive him crazy in the best way possible.

he likes creampies. i mean, watching your pussy drip with his cum just makes him want to fuck you until you're completely filled, but something about cumming all over your ass cheeks just makes him... tingle. your ass was already perfect, bouncing and colliding against him with every thrust, and now it's painted white because of him? you really want him to shove your face into the mattress again and fuck you doggy style until you're shaking, don't you?

one word, mirrors. we all know that mingi loves watching himself, but watching himself fuck you from behind? watching every expression you make, how your tits bounce with every thrust, how you hold on to the sink, trying to stay standing, and he can only see that if he looks in the mirror, but when he looks down, yeah, your cute, perfect ass bouncing as his cock slides inside you. and if it so happens that you both end up in a motel, he'd make sure you have one of those rooms that have mirrors on the ceiling, on the sides, everywhere, he just loves to see himself, and what he loves more than seeing himself, is seeing you.

and he's the king of aftercare, no matter if he was rough with you, or if you were rough with him, mingi will always ask you how it was, if he did well, if you felt good, and then he would clean you up with all the love in the world, or even carry you to the bathroom for a relaxing bath together, and of course he would offer to soap your back, but his hands would always go... elsewhere.

[kawaiialeisha]

⚠️ WH SPOILERS

WELCOME HOME APRIL 12TH UPDATE ANALYSIS

This is my analysis on the new WH update with the help of many wonderful people in my server!! ^^

---

These are all in reference to the hidden Julie videos.

First video: Julie was attempting to get the entirety of Home (aka the neighbourhood) in bloom before homewarming. Julie came across a flower that hadn’t bloomed. She was trying to get it to bloom but it wasn’t talking to her nor blooming. Frank was not present while she was trying to make it bloom.

She leaves it be as Frank calls her over somewhere, promising to come back to make it bloom.

Second video: Julie seemed to have reserved that flower to show Frank and let him make it bloom with her help.

It's mentioned that rainbow monsters (like herself) have many responsibilities corresponding with nature. She references her family's motto, as if it's something to be proud of. Keep this in mind.

It's also worth noting that according to Julie, with enough positivity, the flowers will bloom by homewarming. So it seems these flowers can only bloom from happiness.

Julie stated that she can’t hear flowers that haven’t bloomed yet. Julie and Frank talk to the flower to try and get it to bloom, getting stumped. Julie attempted to solve it through her board game.

The two state:

Frank: “…No surprise chess manoeuvres! I know you’re not allowed to combine the Queen and the knight during chess, Julie! You can’t trick me again!”

Julie: “But pieces are just keeping each other company, Frank! It sounds like somebody’s just sore about losing the queen’s favourite horsey!”

I think Julie's last line means something more. A lot of these videos almost imply meanings of replacement or loss.

Third video: In the beginning of the video, Julie whispers in a serious tone “you’re still closed” twice before addressing it more clearly and happier.

She talks about how Barnaby and Howdy make fun of her a little, possibly discussing her insecurities. Julie also mentions in this video that she likes Frank the most, considering she met him first when she first came to the neighbourhood. She didn’t know anyone when she came here. She said she doesn’t exactly remember how her and Frank met, but she assumes it was when she was building her burrow. Frank fell into her tunnel. She whispers in a serious voice again to herself, “Was he mad? I don’t think he was. I think he said to me, "Are you new here? I’m new too, my name is Frank." I think he knew I was scared. He said a really corny joke to me, and I laughed.” She states she met Wally the same day, which is when she got her home. She also states she can’t say out long after dark, as they’re not supposed to be outside. The reasoning is unknown. Wally suddenly comes out of nowhere, saying in a slightly distorted tone, “Did all that really happen, Julie?” This might imply she forgot something important, which is brought up in the fifth video analysis.

Fourth Video:

Starting with the flowers POV, Julie says "it's still here" in a slightly distorted voice, referring to the flower. I used to think it was the flower talking, but it was actually Julie's inner thoughts/voices, as proven in the transcripts. It's strange that this flower's POV hears her thoughts, her negative ones too.

The POV cuts to a different one as Julie greets the flower normally: "Hello my possible petunia, it looks like you still haven't opened! Why is that?"

But then it cuts back to the flowers POV, Julie's voice getting serious again, asking, "What's wrong with you?" inside her head.

It cuts back to normal again, "I'm sorry, is it because I haven't been around as often? I promise it wasn't on purpose! I've been busy. I have a lot of responsibilities. I'm home's cheeriest neighbour!"

It's almost as if she's trying to be something of worth, to live up to her actual name. Did you catch that she didn't want to join the joyful sibling's band as a drummer? Maybe she didn't feel worthy enough, maybe she has insecurities, maybe she didn't fit in with that role, or maybe she had feelings that she shoved away to also maintain being home's cheeriest neighbour.

She begins talking about the 'Sweet Briar' play and says, "It's about a princess who falls asleep for a long time after a mean fairy puts a spell on her. Then her handsome prince comes to wake her up!" It cuts back to the flowers POV, saying inside her head, "If only it was that easy."

Again, another possible reference insecurities. Her thoughts start to be more prominent and reoccurring, getting more negative and worrisome.

Here she begins to lack self esteem, by saying she thinks she did alright and struggled a bit during the play. She also mentions how she liked letting someone else lead. She told the flower earlier in the 2nd video that she had a lot of responsibilities, so maybe it ties to that.

More signs of insecurities and spiralling from Julie. The way she fears and talks about her family's thoughts about her not being able to get a flower bloom makes me think they've possibly neglected her before? Or maybe she's avoidant so she can make a good example of herself, as she was hesitant to join her family's band.

Fifth video:

I think something happened to Julie at one point. I think it’s between her and home, maybe. (Considering I think home is trying to take control and isolate the neighbourhood from the darkness surrounding the edges of the map, as seen below)

The link to her fifth video has the words “tears”, “remembrance”, and “instability” in it. The instability part is very obvious within the video, but tears and remembrance mean something deeper I think. Tears and remembrance combined could mean a sad memory. In the video, Julie makes the excuse her family is here and she should go say hi before they leave home. She rushes over to the flower and thinks to herself, “you’re still here. After all this time. I spent so much time talking with you. I gave you everything I could.” She starts to cry in a way, then saying “I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you want, I don’t understand what the problem is.” It then cuts to the flowers POV, now inside her head again, “Was that not enough? Do you want to get me into trouble? Why are you doing this to me? Was it because of the early spring? Are you mad at me for that? I don’t know why that happened, it’s not my fault! It’s not my fault! Please, please don’t do this to me! Frank is nearby, please I’m begging you, please bloom before anyone sees you. Please bloom, please, please-“

She is now treating this flower differently compared to the first video. She's almost threatening this flower in a way, believing it will somehow get her into trouble. Almost like... something is after her.

When in the first video, it seems she had stumbled upon it for the first time, keen to make it bloom. With positivity. But all this flower is consuming are her negative thoughts.

It cuts back to a different POV where Frank is looking for her. She cusses to herself since Frank has found her. She panics, trying to not let him see the flower. She turns to the flower to tell it one last message. "You won’t be around for much longer- You’ll go away by Homewarming- I’ll never see you again, no one will, no one will ever know you were here- and then I’ll be free- I’m as good as I ever was- I’m Julie Joyful!-" It seems as if she’s insecure, incapable of being worthy. Maybe it's even an identity crisis too, as some have speculated. It also seems as if there’s been a significant event that happened in the past that she can’t remember properly. Or perhaps, a consequence. She also seems to be getting a consequence in the near future if this flower gets her in trouble somehow.

---

Other thoughts with the information we know now:

Credits to @gho-zzy

Call-back to video three, remember how Wally was there? I believe he's been listening through the flower. I mean, these styles of hidden videos ALWAYS have Wally in there at least somewhere. Especially in his POV. So, he must've taken this flower's POV somehow. It might be the reason why it wasn't blooming either.

Another call-back to this image here:

You can also see footsteps leading into the forest. Perhaps this is where she goes to see the flower?

ANYWAY!! I will update this as things become available again, since the 5th video is currently down.

[iluvlennie]

𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐄𝐃 ✦ ❱ HAECHAN X FEM!READER

pairing : flynn rider!haechan (lee donghyuck) x rapunzel!fem!reader

genre : fantasy, romance, angst, humor, slowburn

description : you've been locked in your tower for years now, never seeing beyond what your window offered you. your mother has always told you it's to protect you and your special power. one day, a mysterious traveler stumbles upon the tower in search of a hiding spot and all kinds of escapades ensue.

warnings : use of pet/nick names, swearing, angst, manipulation, arguing, reader is depicted as blonde to fit in with the golden hair story, but nothing else about the reader is specified, violence, tba.

status : started on 16.03.2025.

fic wc: 15.4k

chapters :

chapter one : the tower's secret

chapter two : the lantern's promise

chapter three : a start to something new

chapter four : chaos and peace

chapter five : a new dream

chapter six : coming soon!

author's note : lowercase is intended. the plot of the tangled movie is not mine! this fanfiction was purely inspired by it. i'm not claiming i came up with it, however the writing is mine! now that that's out of the way, i literally was just listening to my liked playlist on spotify and a song from tangled came on and i thought about haechan for whatever reason (i know the reason, it's because i'm hopelessly in love with him /j) anyways... this is nawt my first ff ever, i have a bunch more, i just never posted any cause i'm really insecure about my writing. guess i'll never know if it's good if i never post anything. alright, i hope whoever reads this enjoys!! if anyone possibly wants to be tagged please either send me a message or comment under!! i'll happily tag you in future chapters! also, the updates may vary on my availability as i work quite a lot. i will try to push out chapters as much as i can, but be mindful that i am writing as i upload, so some chapters may be longer and some may be shorter and some chapters may take a little longer to be completed!

© iluvlennie — 2025 ✦ likes and reblogs are appreciated!!

[chaotic-birds]

sweet addiction || j.pt

When Jason entered your bakery during a late-night patrol four months ago, he didn't plan to make it a regular trip. However, your charming personality had him hooked. It wasn't until your bakery was attacked and you were in danger that he realized just how attached he had gotten.

🍰 Pairing: Red Hood (Jason) x bakeryOwner!Reader 🍰 Word Count/Genres: 3.8k/Fluff, angst, strangers to lovers 🍰 Warnings: Reader has she/her pronouns, weapons, gun shots, assault, injuries, name calling, multiple pov 🍰 Author's Note: I've been working on this for a while since I kept getting distracted 😪 I'm glad I finally got it done lol (ty to the anon who missed me and motivated me to finish this). Here's another light, fun read since soft!protective!Jason makes me want to flip tables 😔🖤

this blog is 18+. minors do not interact. plz & ty! (ageless/minors/blanks blogs will be blocked)

masterlist

The sound of a ding alerts you to a new customer.

When you peek your head from the back door to see who it is, a big grin takes over your features. You recognize the familiar tall man with a red helmet almost instantly.

“Hey, Red!” you call.

Red Hood waves at you from the door, a grin surely on his face under his wet helmet. It’s been raining on and off all day.

“Hey, sweet thing,” he greets playfully.

You laugh, stepping from the door and wiping your hands on your apron.

“I told ya not to call me that,” you say. Though despite your words, your smile doesn't drop.

He moves to the counter and places a twenty on it. He leans onto the arm, hovering closer to you.

“But it’s so fitting,” he teases and tilts his head. “I bet you taste just as sweet as your treats.”

Rolling your eyes, you nudge his arm. You don’t take his flirting seriously. It’s just a little fun you both like to have when you see each other.

“Keep talkin’ like that, and I’ll ban you from speaking in here,” you huff.

“Oh? You rather we play charades?” he asks.

“Oh God, no,” you say. “I bet you suck at that!”

He cocks his head to the other side and rests his free hand on his chest, offended.

“Words hurt, sweets,” he says.

You chuckle, shaking your head at his ridiculous behavior.

Before you can reply, another ding emits.

A group of four men walks in wearing dark hoodies and baggy pants. You try not to think anything of it since it’s raining outside and they’re probably trying to stay dry.

“Welcome in,” you greet.

They turn to look at you; their bodies become stiff. Then, they begin to whisper among themselves. You soon realize Red Hood might be making them uncomfortable. Not wanting the aforementioned man to feel uneasy as well, you turn your attention to him, who’s also eyeing them.

“Your usual, Red?” you ask.

Red Hood continues to eye the group while he replies, “Sounds good.”

His tone has shifted and lacks the humor it once held. Your smile disappears at his seriousness.

Nodding, you turn to grab his hot tea and cake slice. As you’re preparing his order, you hear another ding.

You glance back to greet the newcomers but realize the group of men are leaving.

“That’s odd,” you murmur.

The comment wasn’t for Red Hood, but he answers anyway.

“Not really,” he replies, still not looking at you.

“How come?” you ask and go back to grabbing a lid for his cup.

“They were looking for trouble and found me instead, so they left. A wise choice.”

You grab a container and a cake spatula, sliding the glass door open to get his treat.

“I didn’t hear you say anything,” you recall.

Red Hood chuckles. “I didn’t need words to tell them to get lost.”

“Oh, you’re that intimidating?” you question, carefully packing his slice and shutting the door. You retrieve the drink and place both items on the counter.

Red Hood’s looking at you now. He places both hands on the counter and leans in, towering over you.

“Extremely,” he says lowly.

You stare up at his helmet, not phased by his aura, but acting like you are. Though you can't hold the act up for long. Your serious face breaks into a smile as you giggle. You tap the middle of his helmet where you suspect his nose is and lean back.

“I dunno, Red. I think you’re just a guy who’s addicted to caffeine and frosting. Doesn’t sound scary at all.”

He slowly moves away. You can’t tell how he’s feeling, but you hope you didn’t offend him.

Feeling like you did, you drop your grin. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that. I think you’re very scary and—”

Red Hood laughs.

“Sweets, I’m not mad. Just amused,” he says.

“Oh,” you mumble and glance away.

He leans over the counter again, this time a little closer.

“You really think I’m scary?” he questions in a deep voice to try to sway your answer.

You swallow and look him in the eyes.

“I-I used to,” you reply.

You still remember your heart racing nervously when he walked into the bakery four months ago. You had heard of the vigilante but had never met him in person. Although you knew he was fighting against the crime, you were aware of what he was capable of. Turns out, he was just hungry during his nightly patrol, and you were the nearest food joint. Or at least, the nearest with sweets. Somehow along the way, his visits became more frequent, and your interactions became more friendly.

He chuckles. “I know.”

“Sorry,” you say again and look away.

He shakes his head. “Nothing to apologize for. It’s understandable.”

You feel his gloved fingers brush yours that rest on the counter. You snap your gaze to his.

“I’m glad you’re not scared of me anymore,” he says quietly so only you can hear.

You tentatively rub your fingers against his ever so slightly. It’s such a small gesture that could be made as a mistake, but there’s no mistake in your heart that you want to feel his hand in yours.

“Good,” you say.

You both stare at each other. The noise from your other patrons fades out, and the only person you see and hear is the Red Hood. You can hear his low, modulated breathing and feel the leathery material of his glove.

“Excuse me,” a voice pops your bubble.

You spring apart with a gasp.

“Sorry!” you and the third party say in unison. You recognize them as a customer you helped earlier.

“Sorry, can I help you?” you ask.

“I’ll see ya later,” Red Hood cuts in quickly, snatching his order and moving away.

“Wait! Your change!” you call out, realizing he overpaid.

“Keep it! Bye!” he says with a wave as he exits your bakery.

You watch for a moment as he turns and makes his way through the crowd. You follow his red helmet until he disappears from your view.

Jason is sitting in one of the living rooms in the manor, feet propped on the coffee table with a book in his hands.

Stephanie and Tim are playing chess in one corner while Damian is attending to his pets in another.

“This is dumb!” Stephanie whines.

“Just because you’re losing doesn’t mean it’s dumb,” Tim chides.

“Well, maybe if you explained the rules better, I wouldn’t be losing!” she argues.

“I doubt that,” Damian mutters.

“I heard that, you brat!” Stephanie grumbles, turning to glare at the kid. Damian never takes a peek in their direction.

While Stephanie’s focus is away, Tim moves one of his pieces.

“Checkmate,” he says with cockiness.

Stephanie spins to see the board. Her mouth drops at her queen being cornered. She snaps her jaw shut and lifts a finger to Tim’s face.

“Check this!” she exclaims.

Tim’s about to reply when everyone’s phone dings.

Jason closes his book and retrieves his device to see what the notification is about.

A bat alert. A building is on fire.

Why does that address look familiar?

Jason’s heart drops.

He’s changed and sprinting toward his motorbike in record time.

Smoke snakes up into the night sky.

Jason can see the tips of the flames as he races and grapples across buildings. He ditched his bike and took an aerial approach so he wouldn’t have to deal with the traffic. The sense of urgency heightens as each second ticks by.

Jason’s heart breaks for you. It breaks for your nice bakery. For your dreams and happiness. He knows your heart is breaking for it, too.

Jason lands a few yards from the entrance.

“Where’s the owner?” he shouts to the people milling about.

No one answers.

“Where’s the owner?!” he repeats, louder and more sternly. Finally, a bystander who’s sitting on the rough ground looks up.

“Think she’s”—coughs—“still in there. They wouldn’t let”—coughs—“her leave.”

They?

“She’s a hostage?” Jason questions, curling his fists over his gun’s handles.

The man shrugs, and before Jason can get more info, paramedics come to tend to him.

In Jason’s peripheral vision, he can see his fellow bats land around the area. He takes one glance at them before turning and rushing inside despite their protests. But he has to. If something happened to you, he wouldn’t know what to do.

“Come on! This is stupid!”

Jason turns his focus toward the voice. It seems to be coming from the back room.

“Nah, this little bitch needs to learn to show some respect,” someone else snarls.

Jason’s heart races. He tries to move fast yet carefully, avoiding upturned tables and chairs. Trash litters the floor, and flames surround him.

“Come closer and I’ll do it a’fuckin’gain.” He hears you say.

“Fucking whore,” someone hisses.

You cough from the smoke before saying fiercely, “And you’re a little pussy bitch!"

Skin hits skin harshly. Jason doesn’t need to see to know you were on the receiving end. His vision reflects the red and orange around him. Fury curses through his veins knowing you’re hurt.

Suddenly, there’s scuffling.

“Get off me!” you shout.

Jason’s logic flies out the window. He vaults over scattered chairs that are on fire and slides over the counter to reach the back door.

By the time Jason comes in, your arms are being held by two men while a third tries to hold down your legs. The fourth stands above you with a gun pointed at your head. Despite this, you’re giving them a rough time by kicking and digging your nails into your attacker’s arms. There’s a rolling pin nearby that he guesses was your weapon of choice.

“I suggest you let her go. Now,” Jason demands while pulling out his guns and aiming them at different attackers. His patience is insanely low, but he forces himself to go this route for your sake. He doesn’t want you to be around any more violence.

“I was wondering when the whore’s guard dog would show up,” the one trying to hold your feet down says. “Thought you were gonna let her burn.”

“Talking big game but weren’t you running with your tails between your legs hours ago?” Jason scoffs.

“We weren’t scared, dumb fuck,” another man hisses. This one is clutching one of your arms so hard that Jason knows you’ll have nail marks after. That makes him lose whatever patience he managed to build.

“Step the fuck back,” he orders more sternly.

“Or what?” the first man barks, laughing. “You gonna call your bat friends and—”

The man’s smile instantly drops as soon as Jason fires his gun at him. He shoots the second man right after.

Your shrieks fill the air as you quickly shuffle away as soon as your attackers let go. You want to find better shelter, but you’re nervous of accidentally getting in the crossfire. However, the scuffle only lasts for a minute or two. Your assailants were no match for the Red Hood. He easily disarmed and disabled them.

You watch as Red Hood shoves his guns back in their respective holsters before coming to kneel in front of you.

“We need to go,” he instructs, then reaches out to touch you. However, the flinch your body makes causes him to halt.

You don’t mean to jerk from him; you know he just saved you, but your body still feels your attacker's hands on you. You feel on edge and unsafe. Yet, you try to remember he’s the good guy.

“S-Sorry,” you stutter, then cough from the still-burning fire.

Red Hood drops his hand and shakes his head. “It’s all good, sweets. Can you walk?”

The nickname brings back memories of him coming to the bakery. He’s always been so nice to you.

Suddenly, several figures rush in. You yelp and begin scurrying away, thinking it’s your attacker’s backup. Instead, it’s just more of the bats.

“Carry them out for me?” Red Hood asks, glancing back at his peers.

They nod and swiftly pick up one unconscious man each. They leave as quickly as they arrived.

Red Hood turns back to you.

“It’s not safe, and you’ve inhaled too much smoke. We need to go,” he repeats and stands up.

Your mind's a little haywire, but you force yourself to trudge through the thoughts so you can focus on surviving.

You rise on shaky legs. Red Hood watches closely but respects your want for distance by keeping his arms at his side. Once you’re upright, he starts heading out, guiding you through the maze of fallen debris and fire. However, as you near the exit, your legs give out as you start coughing harder.

“I’ve got you, sweets,” Red Hood comforts as he swiftly lifts you in his arms. He hurries out the rest of the way, curling his body over to protect you in case anything happens.

Although you didn’t want anyone to touch you, your body immediately clings to Red Hood the moment he does. It’s as if your body knows he isn’t going to hurt you. He’s never hurt you. You’re safe with him.

Jason carries you out and straight to the ambulance. He sits you down on one of the empty stretchers. A paramedic instantly comes to your aid, placing an oxygen mask over your mouth. Jason starts getting pushed out of the way, but your hand darts out.

You move from the mask so you can speak.

“Don’t leave,” you croak. “Please.”

Jason’s heart aches at your plea. He grasps your hand and steps closer.

“I’m not going anywhere. Where did they hurt you?” he asks, scanning your body for injuries. He can see growing bruises on your face, but no blood seeping from beneath your clothes. Though that doesn’t mean there aren't bruises there, too.

“They-they—” you try to say between heaves.

“The mask,” the paramedic urges.

Jason lifts the mask to your face, guilt blooming in his chest.

“Sorry. Breathe, sweets, just breathe. Don’t answer me,” he says.

You hold the mask to your face as your eyes scan the area. When your gaze lands on your disintegrating shop, your eyes widen. Jason watches with a heavy heart. He’s not sure what to say to make you feel better. He doubts there’s anything he can say.

“Oh, God, my shop,” you sob while lowering the mask. “I-It’s all gone.”

He squeezes your hand. 

“I know,” he whispers, pained.

He wants to do more, but he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. Though as if reading his mind, you tug him closer. 

“C-Can I h-hug you?” you ask, voice wavering.

Jason nods and closes the space. One of your arms clings around his waist like you’re afraid he’ll leave you, and the other presses the mask against your face.

He carefully wraps his arms around your body while he stays quiet, listening to your silent sobs. The paramedic eyes you both before tending to another person; however, they glance back occasionally to check in.

Whenever his family accuses him of being a hugger, he refutes profusely. He doesn’t need a hug when he’s upset or when he’s over the moon. He doesn’t find peace or pleasure through the simple embraces. However, feeling your arms around him makes him second-guess himself. 

“I-I’m s-sorry,” you stutter after a while, body shaking slightly.

Jason begins to sway you both. “It’s okay. You don’t need to worry 'bout a thing right now. You just focus on breathin' for me.”

“Red,” you weep and hug him tighter.

Jason rubs your back soothingly, watching as the firefighters use water to try to calm the flames. Thankfully, they're nearly out.

“I’m right here, sweets. No one’s gonna hurt you,” he promises in your ear.

You’re nodding as Stephanie swings into view behind you. She looks down with piqued interest, unspoken questions floating in the air.

“We’ve got the attackers being sent off right now. You need us for anything else?” she asks.

Your body jumps in Jason’s arms, head snapping up to see who the new voice belongs to.

Stephanie looks at you with empathy.

“Sorry,” she says, then looks at Jason for an answer.

Jason’s grateful that she doesn’t question who you are, even though he knows she’s eager to do so. He figures he’ll be playing twenty-one questions later.

“No. All good. I’ll catch you later,” he replies.

Stephanie lingers, eyeing you with curiosity. When Jason clears his throat, she finally goes. The paramedic from earlier takes her place.

After making sure you don’t have major injuries and are feeling okay, they let you go. 

Jason’s bidding goodbye when you ask him a question that stuns him. 

“Will you stay with me tonight?”

Jason short-circuits as he debates it in his head. He tries to consider all the risks he would put you in and wonders if it'll change things between you. Though he’s not worried about things going south. He worries he’ll feel closer. Close enough to start imagining how things would be if you knew the truth. 

“I’ll pay you,” you offer shyly. “I just… I don’t want to be alone right now.”

Jason shakes his head. “Don’t worry about that, sweets. I’ll keep you safe for free. Now, let’s get you home, yeah?”

The Red Hood is more of a gentleman than you could have ever imagined. You figured he'd crack some jokes or complain about having to care for you, but he does neither. From the parking lot to your apartment door, he had a hand hovering over your lower back. You appreciated his thoughtfulness even though you wouldn't have minded the contact.

As soon as you both had entered, he conducted a thorough sweep of your apartment without being prompted. He checked the windows, behind every door, and ensured there were no hidden bugs. Watching him be so diligent had eased most of your worries.

After changing and nearly an hour of sitting on your couch watching a random movie, you questioned if he was comfortable in his gear.

Guilt sweeps over your chest at being so caught up in your thoughts that you forgot about his comfort.

"I'm okay," he reassures.

You press your lips in a thin line and push your brows together.

"Okay, it's not the most comfortable, but I don't want to leave you," he admits, shifting in his seat.

"You're doing me a favor. You shouldn't have to put up with that, too."

Red Hood leans closer, so your focus is on him more. "Firstly, I'm not putting up with you."

You sigh. "Not true—”

"Secondly," he interrupts. "I don't mind."

Your shoulders deflate at his stubbornness. Although you don't want to be alone, your guilt won't let you rest.

"How 'bout this," you start. "Once I fall asleep, go and get a change of clothes. You know where my keys are."

He cocks his head to the side. "You trust me with your keys?"

You roll your eyes half-hardheartedly. "Red, you're already in my home. I've got my purse there"—you point near the door—"all my jewelry there"—you point to your bedroom—"and my personal documents there." You finish by pointing to your office.

"You can do a lot of stuff to screw me over while I sleep besides just taking my keys," you explain.

Red Hood releases a small, relenting breath. "Fine."

You smile triumphantly before settling into the couch again, adjusting the blanket. You rest your head on a pillow and try to make your body as small as possible since your couch isn't big and you don't want to intrude on Red Hood's space.

"Sweets?" Red Hood calls softly.

"Mhm?" you reply, glancing up.

He leans forward, his leg brushing yours that are tucked under you, and says, "If you hear this knock sequence, then it's me, okay? I won't come in unless you open the door."

"Oh, okay," you murmur.

He nods, and you wonder if he's smiling beneath the mask.

You push the sleepy fog from your mind so you can focus.

Red Hood taps his knuckles against your coffee table in a specific rhythm.

"One more time," he instructs and repeats it. "Got it?"

You nod.

"Good. Now, get some rest," he says lightly.

After a mumbled "okay," you lay back down. Though this time, there's no longer a gap between your bodies. You can feel his firm thigh against your calf. His body doesn't touch anywhere else, but the simple contact makes your lingering worry disappear.

By the time you wake, the vigilante is gone. You don't know how long you've been asleep. Did he just leave? Is he about to be back?

The movie is looping its selection menu music, and the light in the living room remains on. The loneliness brings forth your previous fear, causing you to stay rigid on the couch as you stare at your door. You count the number of times the music repeats, but lose track after twelve.

The first knock makes you instantly curl into a ball, heart racing with fear. Then the familiar cadence echoes in your ears, and you spring up from the couch. However, when you look through your peephole, the fear slowly comes back.

On the other side is an unknown man. His dark hair is slightly messy, and his blue eyes keep glancing from the peephole to down the hallway. He looks timid and unsure.

Although you’re still anxious, you slowly pull the door open. You keep the gap small in case the knocking rhythm was a coincidence—though you know it’s not. Still, you err on the side of caution.

“Red?” you whisper, unsure.

“Actually,” he says while rubbing the back of his neck nervously, “it’s Jason.”

Your eyes scan him. From his broad shoulders to his tiny waist and thick thighs. You try to envision his body covered with Red Hood’s gear. Besides his shy demeanor, he could easily pass as the bat vigilante.

“It’s really you?” you ask softly.

“Yeah,” he mumbles. “I’m probably not what you were expecting, but I… I thought you might be more uhh… comfortable. But now that I think of it, I just look like a stranger, so this probably isn’t helping you. I-I shouldn’t have—”

“Jason,” you interrupt.

His name from your lips makes him skid to a halt. His eyes move to yours in an instant.

You give him a reassuring smile, opening the door more.

“Would you like to come in?” you ask.

He seems relieved by your question.

You watch as he steps inside. His once powerful walk as Red Hood is now docile as Jason. You may not have known Red Hood on a personal level, but you still considered him a friend. Now, with his identity exposed, you feel like you’re starting over. Despite the reset, you’re eager to meet the person underneath the hood. Your gut tells you you’ll like him just as much as his alter ego.

For my “shy/silent” readers, I’ve created a feedback form where you can share your thoughts on my fics more anonymously and privately. ^-^

Dividers made by me.

©️chaotic-birds // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

[iamumbra195]

School Bus Graveyard incorrect quotes because I'm bored

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Taylor: Look how creepy it is looking down this hallway.

Ashlyn: I'm gonna get vertigo.

Aiden: I'm a Virgo!

Tyler, deadpan: No, you're a virgin.

...

Aiden: You lying, cheating, piece of shit!

Tyler: Oh yeah? You’re the idiot who thinks you can get away with everything you do. WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD

Aiden: I’m leaving you, and I’M TAKING ASHLYN WITH ME

Logan, picking up the monopoly board: I think we’re gonna stop playing now.

...

Taylor: Why is Tyler so upset?

Logan: He took one of those “Which Character Are You?” quizzes

Taylor: And...?

Logan: He got Aiden.

...

Ashlyn: What did you do with the phantom's body?

Aiden: What didn’t I do with the body?

Everyone:

Aiden: Okay, that sounded more sexual than I intended. I disposed of the phantom respectfully.

...

Aiden: Here’s a fun Christmas idea. We hang mistletoe, but instead of kissing, you have to FIGHT whoever else is under it.

Logan: Aiden, no.

Ben, with text to speech: Mistlefoe.

Logan: Please stop encouraging him.

...

Taylor: Who thinks I can fit 15 marshmallows in my mouth?

Tyler: You’re a hazard to society

Aiden: And a coward. DO TWENTY.

...

Emma, trying to be nice to Ashlyn's new friends: Would you like to stay for dinner?

Mike, excited for his daughter: WOULD YOU LIKE TO STAY FOREVER?

...

Logan: What's a word thats a mix between 'sad' and 'mad'?

Ben: Disgruntled, miserable, desolated-

Aiden: Smad.

...

Ashlyn: Why are you on the floor?

Aiden: I'm depressed.

Aiden: Also I was stabbed, can you get Ben, please.

...

Taylor: Aiden and I were crossing the street, and this dude drove by and honked at us

Ashlyn, sighing: What did he do?

Taylor: he chased him to the next red light, then reached into his window and...

Aiden: Who wants a steering wheel?

...

Aiden: If I accidentally sat on a voodoo doll of myself, would I be trapped forever in that position, doomed to starve to death?

Logan: How am I supposed to know?

Tyler: You say that as if we don’t use you as a source of knowledge of the occult.

Logan: ...You wouldn't be trapped.

...

Ashlyn: Tyler, keep an eye on Aiden today. He's going to say something to the wrong person and get punched.

Tyler: Sure, I’d love to see him get punched.

Ashlyn: Try again.

Tyler, sighing: I will stop Aiden from getting punched.

...

Aiden, holding a python: Guys I impulsively bought a snake, what do I name him

Tyler: You did WHAT–

Ben: William Snakespeare

...

Ashlyn: Dandelions symbolize everything I want to be in life

Taylor: Fluffy and dead with a gust of wind?

Ashlyn: Unapologetic. Hard to kill. Feral, filled with sunlight, bright, beautiful in a way that the conventional and controlling hate but cannot ever fully destroy. Stubborn. Happy. Bastardous. Friends with bees. Highly disapproving of lawns. Full of wishes that will be carried far after I die.

Aiden: edible

...

Taylor, whispering to Aiden, who’s on the phone with Ashlyn: Ask her something!

Aiden: How are you feeling?

Ashlyn: Fine.

Taylor: Something personal!

Aiden: At what age did you start hearing voices?

...

Aiden: If I die, my funeral is going to be the biggest party ever and you’re all invited

Logan: If?

Tyler: Great, the only party I’d actually go to and he might not even die.

...

Logan: We need a distraction.

Ashlyn: Is anyone here good at jumping up and down and making weird noises?

Aiden, whispering: My time has come

...

Tyler: Where are you going?

Taylor: To get ice cream or commit a felony, I’ll decide on the way there

Tyler: I'll come with

...

Mike, buying a whole bag of knives, guns and other weapons like he's going to war on a random Tuesday: I can explain

Jacob (shop owner): Can you?

Mike: If you give me thirty seconds to think of a lie.

...

Taylor: Heads up, if you try to make a candle with food colouring, it will just sink to the bottom of the glass, and when the flame eventually reaches the bottom all the food colouring will catch fire and become one giant tall flame that you cannot possibly blow out and the glass will start to crack and then you'll throw your tea on it in a panic and then the extremely hot food colouring will boil and sizzle horribly and then the glass will shatter.

Tyler, sighing: What did you do?

Taylor, wailing: A MISTAKE

...

Mr. Thomas: What are your goals?

Ashlyn: To pet all the dogs.

Mr. Thomas: No, I meant your goals for this trip.

Ashlyn: To pet all the dogs in Savannah.

...

Logan: Is letting someone win at chess sapiosexual bottoming?

Ashlyn: Does anyone in this godforsaken group ever think before they speak?

...

Taylor: Aiden isn’t answering his phone

Ashlyn: I’ll call

Taylor: Ben and I have both tried six times each, what makes you thi-

Aiden: Hello?

...

Aiden: I was arrested for being too cool.

Tyler: The charges were dropped due to a lack of supporting evidence.

...

Aiden: Jail is no fun. I’ll tell you that much

Taylor: You’ve been to jail?

Aiden: Once. In Monopoly.

...

Mike: You love me, right?

Emma: Normally, I’d say yes without hesitation, but I feel like this is going somewhere and I don’t like it.

...

Aiden: Let’s watch Sharkboy and Lavagirl.

Ashlyn: Okay

Aiden: And make out during the scary parts.

Ashlyn: The-

Ashlyn: The scary parts?

Ashlyn: Of Sharkboy and Lavagirl.

...

Ashlyn: How petty can you get?

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

Taylor: I KNEW IT-

...

Aiden: I've already sent good vibes your way… they’re coming. There’s nothing you can do to stop them.

Logan: This is the most threatening way I’ve ever been cheered up.

...

Mike: So what’s for dinner?

Emma, staring at the food she just burnt: Regret.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

That's all for today!

[radioactive-yuri]

secondo's place within the ghost timeline is what really makes him so interesting to me. not the first. not the last. not the favourite. a literal placeholder for the title, before terzo inherited it. he was probably the only one born to be just papa: primo set the example for him early on, so he had a concrete idea of what it meant to be papa from a young age, and always knew that it would be him one day. papa emeritus ii, that was his life's purpose. and he wasn't even really that passionate about it at all; unlike primo, he seemed to view the role less as an unholy duty to be fulfilled, and more as an inevitable part of his future, the way children view the vague concept of employment. "i'm going to be papa", and then what? crank out one album, tour a little, leave an impression, but not too strong. you're just warming them up for the one who'll replace you, soon enough. you know he's going to be more successful. more beloved. a real fan favourite, a real star. that's fine. that's life. your life, anyways.

it's all in the name: secondo. it can only mean one thing. primo can also mean primary, important, top notch, which lines up with how primo viewed his position: the mission always comes first. terzo has its meaning tied down to a similar simplicity as secondo (just like how terzo was also raised to be papa), but it can make its own path to a new meaning; three numbers can be the number of the beast, a threesome, "third time's the charm", the magic number, how terzo twisted and changed his own role into a shape that fit himself better, built a new meaning on top of such a simple concept. but secondo can only mean one thing. secondo can only be second. coincidentally, it's also the one that's the closest to its english variant, which i find interesting, since secondo is the only papa shown speaking italian despite being fluent in english (my interpretation is that this is him trying to establish some sort of identity beyond being papa). it's almost a taunt, that everyone can tell what secondo means, his purpose is so clear to anyone who sees him. he's secondo. he's the second one. that's all there is to him. that's all he's ever allowed to be.

[sam-keeper]

Hey Look At This Comic: Chainsaw Man and Don't Get Around Much Anymore

this title is so funny. hey you probably haven't heard of this small indie comic, yeah it's pretty obscure it's called Chainsaw Man.

here's an even funnier joke: hey have you heard of this comics guy, name of Art Spiegelman?

before Spiegelman wrote that book you probably know him better for (ha ha he he) he did a lot of other comix, particularly a lot of one page experiments. one in particular stuck with me: Don't Get Around Much Anymore, a simple exploration of a narrator's apartment. there's a lot things Spiegelman does to enhance the sense of stasis, isolation, and depressive gloom in this comic, and the New Yorker a while back published a great summary by Spiegelman of his own techniques. what stuck with me the most was the sense of time out of joint created by his manipulation of narrating text and panel contents. throughout the comic, the text and images are "out of synch [sic]". for many panels, the text describes the image we've just seen rather than being illustrated by the panel it's in. there's even a weird pivot in the middle where we briefly look ahead before getting caught again in the backward flow.

because of the kind of person I am, I flashed back to this comic after reading Chainsaw Man issue 172. in it there's a bunch of moments where speech bubbles and panels also seem to be out of sync. so, I dug DGAMA out again and took a look. actually, I did more than reread it: I followed its soundtrack instructions, "to be read to the accompaniment of a dripping faucet, slowly." I'm trying to do more dumb bullshit that artists tell me to do these days because A. it's not like they're going to squirt me with their rubber flower or get me with the ol' ink around the telescope trick, come on and B. we do all kinds of arbitrary, annoying tasks in order to access an intended artistic experience: we call it "video games".

so I went in the bathroom with my girlfriend's copy of Metamaus, found the page where they reproduce DGAMA, and adjusted the faucet. how slowly to drip? well, if it's too low "slowly" becomes "inaudibly" so nudge it up a bit more. ok, tap... tap... couldn't hear that one... tap... good enough. and I read, and when I got to the panel where the narrator's description lines up with the panel contents, "all the water I can use pours out of the faucet with a flick of the wrist," the faucet made the loudest little "plop" yet. damn. A+ Art.

the reading experience is something like this: where a comic might often get chewed up fast, eyes rushing across the page, this one encourages a kind of juddering, halting back and forth between panels. it's almost got a hypnotic quality, paired with the dripping tap. it's such a simple page, but I found myself weaving back and forth over it many times in order to make sense of all the relations. the schematic representations at the top of the page take on an almost mocking quality--you can piece together the floor plan and how everything fits together, but doing so just pulls you into the comic deeper.

the effect of disjointed time in Chainsaw Man isn't the same, but there's some parallels. I find that I have to reread Tatsuki Fujimoto's action sequences a lot of the time to figure out just what is happening in them. this could be seen as a flaw but I think creates a deliberate sense of chaos. whatever occurs in Chainsaw Man can be understood, but only after the fact. in the moment events just occur, then we are invited to dissect the aftermath like crime scene investigators.

for that kind of effect, the disorienting pairing of seemingly out of sync words and drawings works perfectly. Fujimoto likes action sequences that don't linger on the tweens, jumping instead from impact to impact to impact. (this contrasts his dialogue scenes which often incorporate pauses and repeated static panels.) in the page here, a devil whose deal I can't be bothered to remember says "I dodged it!" only to realize that their head's been cut off. only, that's not really right, is it? the speech bubble is "I dodged it!" but in the panel the killing blow has already been struck. the speech bubble, as in Spiegelman's comic, seems to be lagging a bit behind the action. look at the two page splash too: if we're inclined to read the action the same way we read the rest of the comic, right to left, we arrive on the right hand of the page, where the action has already completed. we don't follow Chainsaw Man's trajectory but instead focus on where he already is, reconstructing the violence as we pass back across the rest of the page. to me, the skipping of intermediate moments, the page compositions, and this disunity between text and image, invites something similar to the passing back and forth over panels that we see in DGAMA.

is it that deep? if you think about this I suppose you can conclude "this is the character dying before they know it" which, sure, though I think that raises some interesting questions like "how do you get a whole sentence out with a severed windpipe and vocal cords". there's a moment later on when some dude is like "you guys! get behind me!" as, again, the panel shows his head and arms flying off. I guess there's a pretty established convention in manga and anime at this point of allowing gravity to be as weak as it needs, in order to let someone say as much as they want while their limbs are flying off, not unlike opera's convention of having someone get stabbed and then stand up to sing an aria with the sword still sticking out of their lungs.

nevertheless, I think it feels experientially distinct when you have a static image, ostensibly representing a unit of time, and the panel contents are this transparently incompatible. a more interesting way of looking at it is: death comes so fast for these characters that the comic can't keep up. it's not the speech but the speech bubbles that are out of joint here, the action leaving its medium behind. it's a radically different end effect than the one Spiegelman aims for, and is a lot less ready for the cover of The New Yorker, but the underlying principle of decoupling word and image in order to create a sense of time not quite functioning correctly remains the same.

if you wanted to achieve this in film, what could you do? maybe desync the audio track? it's an interesting possibility, though one I think a lot of viewers would experience as a transcoding error rather than an intended effect. or you could do something like the astonishing sequence in the most recent episode of The Elusive Samurai where, like Chainsaw Man, intermediate actions are removed so that a character is abruptly standing next to a bunch of headless corpses blooming blood flowers in slow motion. there's ways to capture something of the energy of Fujimoto's work.

...I don't think the anime adaptation of Chainsaw Man really tries, for the most part. both the slow awkwardness of conversations with their static compositions, and the way the action tends to skip clear movement for noise and destructive aftermath, aren't really suited to the style of high budget blockbuster anime, which wants to pack the screen with little movements, as though to make sure the money is visible with each frame, all the ones accounted for. the adaptation has largely opted to look as good as possible all the time, for a given value of good, in a way that I think loses a lot of the grungy charm of the comic.

even the most suited adaptation, though, would still lack one of the fundamental qualities of the comic page: its altogetherness, its arthrology as Thierry Groensteen terms it, its nature as a bunch of panels in a metaframe, taken in at a glance, or pages easily flipped back and forth across. it's this that allows us to pass back and forth over the page like we're reconstructing the calamity from the evidence after the fact.

this post originally ran on Cohost on August 19, 2024. you can read more reviews in the Hey Look At This Comic tag and support me on Patreon.

[mahi-wayy]

𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐎𝐫 𝐅𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠? 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

pairing : dean winchester x brown!fem!reader

fandom & series : supernatural | brown!reader series ( dean ver. )

length : 3.9k ( not proofread. deal with it. )

summary : "बिस्तर ये तेरा मेरा अरे जंग का मैदान है" [ OR ] tension between you and dean finally snaps.

warnings : foul language, mention of gore, misogyny, inappropriate touch, drunk men ( yes these mfs should be a warning ) eventual smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex ( NO! BAD! wrap it up guys ) creampie, dom/sub dynamics ( kind of ) sub!dean winchester, dry humping, edging, impala sex ( ALMOST ) dirty talk, oral ( both m & f recieving ) begging, glimpse of pussy drunk dean, slight degradation, praise kink, cowgirl position.

library

It all started with you wanting to help him.

It's been well over 6 months since you've been travelling with Sam and Dean and life has turned out to be a lot more fun than you thought. Sure the boys got their noses in all things trouble but they did it to save people.

And hunting wasn't as scary as you thought, though you were learning the physical part of the job, you had the lore and talking to witnesses part covered from like the first week.

So you didn't think you would encounter this much resistance from Dean when you offered help in a salt and burn for a vengeful spirit.

People were dropping dead almost like flies - one victim after another in a span of hours - all with the same cause of death. A slit throat so deep you could see the bones and stuff.

When the fourth victim drops it creates a hindrance in the investigation. They had to go talk to the boyfriend of the previous victim, hit the new crime scene but also go investigate the brother of the very first victim - A guy named Alex who hangs out at a local strip club.

So you came up with a simple idea. Sam hits the crime scene/morgue. Dean goes to the witness and you can check out the strip club. Simple right? Not if Dean had something to say about it.

“You're not going to the strip club. Or the witness. Or crime. Just your pretty self in here.”

He had said with absolute tone and it pulled out a scuff from you as an instinct which makes the man give you a look.

“Why not?”

“Because me and Sam have places to be at and you're not going alone.”

“But-”

“Sweetheart this isn't a discussion.”

She had to fight the urge to snarl at the man. Just what on God's green earth does he think will happen if you go to a club? Men? Pft as if you can't handle a bunch of idiots.

“Dean come on, this is ridiculous.” You say when you see him grab the room key.

“Good. I like ridiculous. Stay.”

He says - Sam shakes his head behind him - before the brothers leave. You wait till you hear baby driving away before sliding the window open. Contrary to what Dean thinks, he isn't the first man trying to keep you in ‘your room’ your dad tried plenty.

So getting out wasn't an issue in the slightest neither was finding the club nor was slipping in especially when they mistook you as one of the new servers. Just your luck.

▪︎ ☆ ▪︎

Contrary to what they believed men weren't half as complicated. Even easier to manipulate.

A tight fit white blouse, a flowing sheer matching ankle length skirt, just the right hair flip with a touch of swaying hips and smooth smile.

That's all it took to have not only Alex but more than half the club wrapped around your tiny finger.

Men.

“Haven't seen you around.”

The targeted man said once you made your way to the bar after serving some beers to a table. Bingo!

“I'm new around here.”

You keep your voice but light like a whisper in the passing.

“Then how about I buy you your first drink here, pretty girl?”

Alex is a decent man, on the taller side with dark hair and light eyes. Hmm you've seen better but still you let your chin rest on your palm smiling.

“Sure.”

Alcohol burns down your throat but you don't mind it, kind of feels nice actually.

“So what's your name or am I just supposed to call you pretty?”

His words slur a bit at the end and it almost makes you grimace but you don't let it show especially when one of his hands reaches to tuck back your hair.

You take a soft inhale - and a shot - before throwing out an alias.

“Pretty name for a pretty woman, I'm Alex Thompson.”

Finally something you can turn into a bait.

“Thompson as in girl who got murdered?”

“Yeah, that was my sister.”

“Oh no I'm so sorry. I just read it in passing on a headline. What happened?”

“Some psychopath broke into her house.”

You narrow your eyes as he takes another swig of his drink - her eyes anywhere but you - he's hiding something. You were about to speak again but he beat you to it.

“But let's not talk about that.” He says in a voice that raises all sorts of warning bells in your head because a) this man is drunk and b) he's definitely attracted to you.

“How about you and me get out of here and have a more private chat.”

He says leaning close, you could smell the alcohol and his overly manly and overly cheap colonge but it was the hand slipping up your arm that made it so hard to not knee the man in his balls.

Intel. You need just a little more.

“I-”

“Hey buddy.”

A voice - familiar voice - interrupts tapping Alex on his shoulders and it happens way too quickly - the moment the drunk man turns around he's met with a fist square in the face making him stumble out of the stool and onto the floor.

You look up only to find the most green pair of eyes you know, narrowed at you in what seemed like anger and disappointment.

Dean.

He doesn't even give you a moment to contemplate anything before his hand grabs your hand - mindful of your bangles even in a fit of rage - dragging you out.

▪︎ ☆ ▪︎

“Dean what the hell!?”

You say freeing your hand once his grip loosens when you two are near the baby. He's not angry as before but he's still pissed.

“Did you have to punch him!?”

He scoffs before turning to face you - eyes dark with anger but something else.

“I don't know, did he have to touch you!?”

“This is ridiculous, there is no way he's talking to you or me again.”

“Well good thing Sam is still an option.”

Oh my god this man-

“You could've talked it out.”

“Well it didn't work when I tried to talk you in staying the fuck out of that place!!”

“I'm not a little girl, I can handle it.”

“That is not the point.”

“Then what is it!?”

You see his jaw clench but you don't make a comment.

“Get in the car.” Oh wow-

“No. Answer me first.”

“I swear to- get in the damn car.”

“No, answer me first!!”

“Because I don't like it!”

He yelled out louder than you - voice booming in the empty parking area - and now it made sense. The impulsive punch to the face, the reluctance is letting you come here.

“I don't like you being in a strip club alone, I don't like other men looking at you and I sure as hell don't like other men touching you.”

Dean Winchester was jealous.

“You're ridiculous.”

“Seriously-”

He was cut off when she kissed him all but slamming him back into his own car. Fuck.

There is no soft gesture about it - not at all - not in the way she scratches and tugs at his scalp or the way he wraps his arms around her.

The tension between them has been seemering for months now. Stolen glances, almost kisses, brushing touches, protective behavior. They knew feelings but neither of them were willing to say or do something.

That was until tonight.

He hears the impala door click before she takes a step back - lips still on his - opening the door when she pulls him. Pushing him back across the driver's seat - his shoulders connecting with the passenger's side door with a soft thump - before climbing over him, the door shutting behind her.

It's a tight fit - between his particularly not small frame and her skirt - but neither of them care. Not when her lips are back on his and her hand slipping in his hair and his hand resting at the curve of her ass.

Holy shit.

The kiss breaks when they need air and she trails down to his jaw - his head automatically turning to the side - he grabs her waist with one hand, another going to cradle her head as he sits up.

By the time they settle again she's straddling him and their tongues are locked in another duel and you can't give two fucks about the steering wheel digging in your back.

Not when one, you can feel how hard Dean is right under you and second, the sounds he is letting out. The soft grunts and moans, his hands everywhere as his hips bucked up in response to yours rolling down.

“We need more space.”

“Sam's still tied up at the crime scene/morgue.”

“Drive.”

With that she kisses him one last time before slipping off his lap and into the passenger seat. He dares to look at her and dammit she's such a sight. Messy hair and swollen lips and the upper two buttons of her blouse are unhooked.

Dean hits the gas.

▪︎ ☆ ▪︎

They barely stumble in the motel room before he's pressing you into the door. He's so sure he ran at least two lights getting here but your lips and your touch is worth it. So worth it.

Your hands make quick work of his jacket and plaid - just as his make of unbuttoning your blouse - knocking them off his shoulders without a care. He was ready to pick you up and throw you on the bed when you hook your ankle against his and use the loss of balance to switch the positions.

“Wha-”

The words die on his tongue when you pull off his henley next - your lips attaching themselves to his collarbone - your nails digging in his sides a little as you trail down kisses, licking, sucking and biting all the way down to his belt buckle.

“Sweetheart, fuck-”

He breathes, even on your knees you look as pleased and in control as ever. Your mouth busies itself with mouthing at his belly while your hands work the buckle.

Fucking hell you'll drive him insane.

Dean lets out a sound mix of a strangled moan and whines the moment you take his dick in your hand. Breathes of her name fall from his lips without a thought.

You continue your antics, running your tongue against the underside and the pretty pink tip of his cock.

He doesn't let out a moan until he feels your mouth around him.

It's fascinating to see Dean like this - falling apart on your mouth - his head thrown back, eyes barely open and hands looking for purchase.

The purchase comes in the form of the back of your head, he tries to push you a little more on his cock, maybe pick up the pace but you not only resist it but smack his hand away.

“If you can't behave yourself when you're touching me then don't.”

Your voice is raspy from taking him down your throat but the words still send a shiver down his spine making him fight the urge to buck his hips and whine.

You resume your task of sucking him off and this time he whines because dammit he wants more than the steady pace. He wants faster. He wants more.

But there is an urge to be good, something which stops him from bucking his hips. Makes him behave.

The orgasm builds steady, heat rising in his stomach as the knot of.pleasure tightens as she bobs her head back and forth and he's close.

“Sweetheat- fuck- sweetheart I'm-”

The sentence ends in a high whine because you pull him off right that moment, his hips buck up but there is nothing as you stand up pushing back your hair.

Your smile confirms you did that on purpose just as you kiss him all lazy like you just didn't ruin what could have been one of his best orgasms.

Your fingers hooks in the thread of the amulet, tugging not with enough force to break it but enough with that he gets the message to follow her. He makes sure to kick off his jeans and boxers somewhere on the way.

His hands touch anywhere and everywhere he can until he hears the back of her knees hit the bed - grabbing her waist to stabilize her for a moment - his hands all but tear the hooks of her skirt.

Looking up at her as he lifts her out of it and onto the bed - making sure her head hits the pillow - as they get back to the kiss, their hips grinding together and he's not sure if it's his precum or her wetness but what he knows is her panties are soaked.

And he wants a taste. He knows that too.

“Hey you with me?” Your voice breaks his haze and he looks down at her, pretty. That's all that comes to mind. You're pretty with the unbuttoned blouse and panting and a little flushed.

Dean can't really stop himself from leaning down and capturing your lips in another kiss. Whining and grunting in your mouth, hips still bucking against your clothed core.

“Taste-” He pants once they pull away. “I want to taste. Please, come on baby let me.”

“Yeah? Go ahead. Come on pretty boy, put that mouth to good use. Make me feel good.” You urged pushing him down by the shoulder.

So he imitates your action from before kissing, licking, biting his way down to your soaked panties before looking up at you as he bites the edge of panties pulling them down your leg before tossing them off.

“Gonna make you feel good.”

He murmurs as your legs spread enough to accommodate that strong broad build of his. He moans the moment his tongue makes the first swipes against your pussy.

Better than he thought. So much better.

“So good- GOD!!! Dean right there.”

His hands squeeze your thighs - moaning against your core at the praise - his brain losing thoughts other than building your pleasure. Sucking and licking, over and over. A particular moan from you has him look up.

He whines at the image that you are, hair a mess of dark threads on the pillow, brown skin glistened with sweat, letting out soft breathy moans.

His eyes roll back the moment your hips buck up, your bangles making a soft clunk as you tug him by the hair, guiding his mouth.

Fuck he can spend a lifetime like this.

Which is also the main reason why he whines as pathetically as he does when you pull him off your core by his hair.

“Shhh stop whining baby, don't you want to be inside me when I cum?” You ask all cheeky.

His brain suffers a different kind of short circuit at that because yeah he wants to. He wants to be inside you so bad.

“Come here. Give me a kiss with those pretty lips.”

His body moves automatically leaning up until his lips - very much soaked in your juices - are pressing against yours. He doesn't even think of protesting when you press him on the mattress, climbing on top of him.

“You're gonna be good?”

You're going to kill him. Still he nods because what a way to go.

“Use your words baby, come on.”

“Y-yeah. Yes I'll be good. Please pleas-”

He is cut off by a moan that pretty much punches its way out of him, his eyes rolling back as you slowly sink down on him.

He lets out a shaky breath or was it a whine? As he bottoms out. You're warm and your gummy walls were gripping him for dear life.

“Fuck- Dean. So good.”

She breathes out - her hands pressing against his chest - as she gives herself a minute. The praise hits right yet again and he almost bucks up his hips.

“Shhh. Stay still. You're a good boy Dean.”

He whines at that because he wants to be a good boy but he needs you to move before he embarrasses himself by cumming only from having you around him.

“Move-” He forced himself to breathe as your cunt squeezed around him - fucking tease. “Please, please move please.”

So you do.

It starts with a slow but firm grind, then turns into shallow bounces before you find a rhythm. The pace set is fast but not necessarily rough. It's messing with his already much from pleasure brain.

And in hindsight he isn't surprised he started begging when he did.

“Gonna cum. Wanna cum’ please please. Let me cum’ please.”

“Just a little long baby, come on. I'm so close.”

He whines high in his throat when you say that, when your walls clamp around him so deliciously but he isn't allowed to fill you up.

“Please please- let me cum. I'll goo’ please-”

He is close to sobbing at this point and just makes the knot in your stomach tighten.

“Go ahead-” You pant out. “-cum for me, pretty boy. Let go.”

He doesn't take much for him from, his hips buck up twice before he moans the loudest of the night - throwing back his head as he shoots his load right into you, triggering your own orgasm.

It takes both of you at least a minute to ride out the high before you get off of him, to lay down beside him while he lazily pulls up the covers wrapping you in cheap motel sheets and his arms.

“Remind me to try to hold you back more often.”

That pulls out a chuckle from you as settle down in his arms - exhausted but satisfied. A long beat of silence passes before you speak.

“We need to clean up before Sam gets back.”

Dean's rather colorful cursing makes you laugh again.

a/n : sub!dean I wanna mess you up so bad my baby

tags : @bluemerakis @deansbeer @daylighted @soldiersgirl @h8aaz @titsout4jackles @bejeweledinterludes @littlesoulshine @mostlymarvelgirl @jmoonk @yawnzshit @figthoughts let me know if I forgot you or you want to be added or removed!!

[rainbowsuitcase]

Imagine a metafic (I really hope I'm using that right) where Pete Mitchell is filming his new movie Top Gun on Commander Kazansky's base.

Ice is trying to do serious work here while all these actors are getting in his way and fucking with his schedule and being rude and distracting his Lieutenants.

Commander Kerner got stuck as an advisor and he comes to Ice's office after every shift to bang his head on the wall and complain about another unrealistic scene that got filmed today despite his strong recommendation not to. "He says he's not making a documentary, Ice, I fucking hate this, what did I ever do to you."

Ice always gives him a pat on the back and a shot of vodka.

The producer/main actor Pete Mitchell keeps filming these insane dangerous stunts that are going to get him killed one of these days and Ice so doesn't want to deal with that paperwork.

The Lieutenants draw straws on who gets to do the fly-by, which is coincidentally also Ice's last straw. After dealing with the lucky Lieutenant, he requests Mitchell to his office too to finally fucking explain some things to him.

Mitchell is as reckless as his character and grins when he tells Ice that he's hot when he's pissed off.

Ice gets a cheeky personalized thank you in the movie credits.

Pete invites him to the premiere, not expecting him to actually show up. He does. He wears a suit. He looks so hot in it, Pete wants to rip it off of him.

They end up hooking up instead of going to the afterparty.

Pete's character's callsign is Maverick, and Ice starts calling him that too, because. Well. It fits.

His crazy stunts stress Ice out even when they're no longer happening on his base.

Especially when they're no longer happening on his base. Because what if something actually happens and he can't be there.

Some of the Daggers and 86ers and still in the Navy, some are actors.

I need Slider with Ice, of course, and I need Phoenix as a badass pilot who ends up inspiring one of the characters.

She possibly ends up getting with shy actor Bob.

His character's name is also Bob.

Charlie is movie crew, she’s the one primarily talking to the Navy and dealing with scheduling.

She’s very no-nonsense, she and Ice would probably get along really well if they didn’t have completely different priorities.

I can't decide about Hangman and Rooster, because I can't decide about Goose.

Nick is either an actor whose character Goose dies, and his son Bradley is brought in to play Goose’s son for his debut role.

Or Goose is Ice’s dead friend from the Academy and he has Angst about being Bradley’s Commander.

Either way, Hangster definitely start hooking up at some point.

They have to hide from both Ice and Pete, so they decide to pretend they hate each other.

This does not give Ice any less grey hairs.

"Mitchell, for fuck's sake, teach your actors how to behave. We're trying to work here!"

[thought-you-knew]

pb&jj roommates au: the one with pbjj jr.

Summary: it's you, hank, an empty apartment, oh, and an annoying little robot following you around the apartment for the weekend. for you protection obviously. inspired by those tiktok couples where one of them is away and uses the cute little robot bother their partner.

Pairings: pb&jj x platonic!reader/fem!reader & peter parker x reader/fem!reader (pairings will change in the future. fem!reader will be romantically paired with a different boy, depending on the story. but she's NOT dating all of them at the same time or maybe… 👀👀)

Warings: fluff, being harassed by an overly friendly robot aka pbjj jr., peter and fem!reader hiding their new relationship. proofreadish

WC: 1.2K

Author's Note: this is purely self-indulgent, and also i blame my friend for sending me those tiktoks. i'm hoping this will help me finish my bob fic :( this one and the upcoming pb&jj oneshots aren't going to be in chronological order

comment below your thoughts on poly!pairing with fem!reader

This is a luxury for you, and you plan on not wasting it. Peter, Bob, Joaquin, and Johnny are currently having their annual boys’ trip. Whatever that means. You didn’t take any of them, except for maybe Joaquin for being outdoorsy. But that’s where they are in a cabin in upstate New York. Male bonding at its finest.

Friday Morning

Peter had managed to sneak into your room while the rest of the guys were in the living room arguing whether they had packed enough alcohol. You look up as Peter closes the door and joins you on the bed. He’s holding something behind his back. 

“I have something for you.” 

“Peter, you’re the one going away. I should’ve gotten something for you,” you say, and he smiles. 

“This is actually for both of us. I know I’ll be only gone for the weekend, but I’ll still miss you.” Peter says shyly and reveals the cutest little white robot. It fits in the palm of his hand, and Peter holds it out for you to take. 

“Peter,” you softly say, and inspect the robot closer. Peter touches the top of its head, and the robot comes to life.  

“We can communicate with each other through the robot.”

You hug him.“You didn’t have to, but I love that you did.” You pull back slightly and kiss him, before he can deepen the kiss, there’s a light knock on your door. Bob is the only one who bothers knocking, which has almost given you and Peter away these past few weeks.

The two of you plan on telling the rest of the guys about your new relationship after the guys’ trip. 

Sadly, you don’t get any more alone time with Peter since Joaquin is impatient and wants to hit the road. 

Friday Afternoon

You and Hank are camped out on the couch while a movie plays and you’re painting your toenails. You feel something bump against the coffee table and look down. It’s the little robot, you bend over and pick it up. You’re eye level with it, and it stares back at you with those wide blue eyes. Why isn’t Peter saying anything? 

“Hey! Can you hear me?” A loud voice, most definitely not Peter’s, comes from the robot, and you almost drop it. 

“Joaquin?”

“Yeah, who else would it be?”

“How do you know about the robot? Did you steal Peter’s phone again?” 

“Borrowing, mine's dead, and I’m bored.” You hope Joaquin hasn’t been snooping through Peter’s text messages or seeing that Peter has changed your contact name in his phone. Placing the robot on the coffee table, you watch as it starts rolling around. 

"Where's everyone else?"

The robot starts spinning in circles, and that catches Hank's attention.

"Mhh, there's trying to get the BBQ going. It's not going very well."

You snort. "That's a surprise."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, from the number of times you, Bob, and Johnny manage to set the fire alarm off."

"Yeah, yeah, details," he says, and the robot stops spinning and moves closer to you. "Show me my son."

"I think you mean, my son."

"Our son," he counters, "now hurry up and show him to me. It's been 6 hours since I've last seen his cute little face." As if knowing he’s being talked about, Hank jumps from the couch and onto the coffee table. 

“There’s my boy!” Hank crouches down with a tilted head, his ears are in airplane mode. That can only mean one thing. Before you can save robot Joaquin, Hank swats at it, and it goes flying. You rush over to make sure it’s not damaged. 

Joaquin gasps. “I can’t believe he just did that.” 

You try not to laugh. “I guess he is your son after all.” 

Saturday Night

Somehow, the rest of the guys have caught wind about the robot Peter gave you, and it’s been nonstop chaos. Thankfully, they’re too dumb to realize why Peter gave it to you in the first place or why he was trying to keep it from them.

Earlier that day, you were trying to do laundry and almost lost your life because Johnny kept making the robot pop out of nowhere. Causing you to either trip or nearly step on it. 

You’re stepping out of the bathroom in your bathrobe when you think you hear the Jaws theme song playing. Thinking you left the TV on, you go and investigate. Nope, everything is off. You shrug, turn back to the hallway, and then hear the music coming nearer. Looking closer, you see a pair of glowing eyes near the couch. Not Hank’s.

Realizing who it is, you roll your eyes. “Not funny, Johnny.” You thought he would stop, but he proceeds to make the robot chase you around the kitchen, all the while playing ‘One, Two, Freddy’s Coming For You’. You manage to get to your room and slam the door shut before the robot can rush in. 

You hear a faint bumping sound coming from behind your door, but you ignore it. 

“Aw, come on! We were having fun.” Johnny’s muffled voice calls out. 

“The fun ended hours ago when I almost tripped and died.” 

“Babe, don’t be mad at me!" 

“Don’t call me that!” 

He gives a dramatic sigh. “I feel like there’s this wall between us."

“I prefer it that way."

Sunday Morning

You didn’t think you would miss Peter so much after only two days. At least he’ll be home later tonight. You’re in the kitchen when you hear the robot rolling in. Without thinking, you’re bending down to pick it up. It watches as you continue to make your breakfast, and you’re not sure who’s on the other end. 

“Morning,” Bob says. 

“Morning, Bob. How’s the trip going?” 

“Ugh. We drank way too much last night, and then Johnny ran off with Peter’s phone. We thought it was lost forever, but I just found it.” 

“Where was it?” 

There’s a long pause, and you think Bob lost service for a second. “It’s best you don’t know.” He changes the subject fast and asks what you’ve been doing this weekend. 

You two idly chat as you finish making breakfast. Once it’s done, an idea pops into your head. You grab two plates and dish out eggs and toast onto both, all the while, robot Bob watches on.

"Do you want tea or coffee?" You ask.

"Tea, please."

Once everything is set up, you place the robot next to you and start eating. Every now and then, you pretend to feed the robot, which makes Bob laugh. 

“So, you and Peter?”

That almost makes you choke on your eggs. It feels more like Bob’s eyes staring at you instead of the robot’s. “What are you on about?” 

“He’s not a very good liar, plus I was the navigator while Peter drove.”

“So you snooped through his phone!” 

“No! I was just confirming my suspicions.” 

You glare at the robot. “What are you talking about, Bob?”

“Don’t be mad! But, I might have seen Peter sneak out of your room last week, sorry.” 

“Bob!”

“I’m sorry! You know I’m an insomniac.” 

Groaning, you lean back in your chair. Well, if it had to be any one of the three to find out, you’re glad it’s Bob.

“It’s fine. At least it wasn’t Johnny or Joaquin.”

“Uh… about that.”

“Bob!”

3am

You’re on the cusp of sleep when you feel the bed dip behind you, and Peter pulls you into his arms. 

“I missed you,” you sleepily say. 

Peter kisses the side of your neck. “Me too.” 

You’re both about to drift off to sleep when you say. “You know you’re in trouble, right?” 

[for-your-modesty-dude]

Reentry

Part 2

A/N: I'm back bitches. Life has been so insane. Like I said in my previous post, I have a 9-5 job and a small business that I'm trying to grow. I just did a 4 weekend Renaissance Faire run, and while that was great, it was also absolutely insane and exhausting. I did nothing but work and restock and try not to make myself sick from overexertion. BUT here we are :) and here's part of that fic I was asking for interest about. I have more parts planned if you're interested, so let me know if you'd like to see more of this world. Love you allllll! - Hy <3

p.s. please tell me if you want to be added to my taglist!

Summary: While you're working one morning, a new face comes in to get coffee - a face you soon recognize as the guy your friends have been talking about since you moved to Hawkins. He becomes a part of your routine very quickly - and you can't help but feel a fondness to this stranger-turning-friend. Maybe you can help him in this new phase of his life.

Warnings: Mentions of drugs and doing time.

Word Count: ~2k

Even after years of owning your own coffee shop, the one thing you never quite got used to were the early morning hours. You often scheduled yourself for opening shifts, to give your staff breaks and to make sure you were there for the opening of the coffee shop and then later, the bookstore. Two birds, one stone, you supposed. You opened up like usual, your two employees for that morning joining at their appropriate times. Around 7 a.m., things really started to pick up, so you took orders with one of the other girls. When the rush died down, you stayed at the register and let her go on her break. The man who approached you next in line had wild brown curls only managed by the loose bun he had them tied up in, and he wore a worn black leather jacket, ripped black jeans that might have fit him properly in the past, but fell loosely on his figure now, and a concert tee from a show you’d gone to in Indie a few years back. 

“Hi!” You chirped, “what can I get for you?” 

He looked at you, almost spooked, before shaking it off and looking back at the menu, clearly new here. 

“Can I, uh - just get a…” he squinted as if he wasn’t reading it right, “paladin’s brew?”

“You read that right,” you promised with a soft giggle. “Yes, absolutely. Name?” 

He hesitated a moment, mouth opening and closing like he was nervous to tell you. Before he could, you put the pieces together: hair, metal band tee, leather jacket. “Eddie! You’re Eddie! Right?” His eyes widened, once again spooked. 

“Um… yeah. I’m - Eddie, yeah,” he looked around as if to check if anyone else had overheard, but the place was pretty empty for the moment. You couldn’t know it, but he was freaked out that maybe his reputation had continued to spread even in his absence. “Eddie the-”

“The DM, right? We have mutual friends. They speak so highly of you, seriously!” 

He was taken aback by the way you spoke to him and about him, and was suddenly very curious.  “You’re the girl Gareth told me about, uh…” he snapped his fingers as he tried to remember your name, and got it right on his first try. “Hard to forget,” he added. That made you smile, and you pointed at the pastry display.

“Pick something, please,” you insisted with a smile, and he hesitated before choosing one of the stuffed cookies. “This one’s on the house. As a welcome home gift. Did you wanna pick out a book, too? I don’t imagine you got to read any recent releases.” 

He started to protest the kindness, not wanting to cause a fuss, but you stood firm. 

“Are you sure your boss is cool with you doing this for me?” He worried. 

“I assure you, the boss would want you to choose a book for yourself,” you promised, a tad amused, and he eventually gave in, sheepish. You finished up his coffee and bagged his now-warmed cookie, and walked around the counter to walk him into the bookstore, unlocking the door that connected the two shops. 

He looked around when he walked in, entranced by the decor and sheer amount of books. He hadn’t seen something like this in almost five years. He hadn’t even told his friends he’d gotten out this morning, having wanted a moment to himself before everyone undoubtedly would make a big deal of him being home. After the constant vigilance of a prison, the idea of being alone was something that attracted him very much, so when you closed the door to the bookstore behind you both, he looked at you, puzzled. 

“Not open to the public yet,” you shrugged with a smile, “but you’re welcome to browse all you want. I’ll be right here.” 

You grabbed a book from behind the register and took a seat on a plush couch, opening up your book to read while he got to take in the place himself. You let him wander away through the shelves, occasionally looking up at him curiously. He was prettier than you’d imagined. Your friends didn’t have very many photos of him, and the ones they did were from high school. Sure, you’d imagined he’d still be pretty, but not nearly this pretty. He caught you watching him at one point, and flashed you a sheepish but grateful kind of smile, and you couldn’t help but smile back before burying your nose in your book again to hide the shame of being caught staring.It took him about fifteen minutes of perusing before he peeked out at you from behind a shelf. “Shit, am I keeping you from your job?” He asked, concerned, and you just shook your head.

“Nah, take your time. I have all the time in the world. Trust me. There’s so much to look through, please don’t rush. Find a good book, or a couple.” Your nose scrunched a little when you smiled at him, and he noticed, and it made him smile. 

He nodded, and went back to his search. It was another twenty minutes before he came back over quietly, holding two books. “I can’t choose between these two. Choose for me?” 

He showed you his options, and you pursed your lips as you considered, “I think you should take both.”

“But-”

“I insist,” you smiled at him, grabbing a cloth tote back from the register area, and opening it for him. “Take ‘em both. Don’t worry about it.” 

The way he looked at you made it all worth it. He put the books into the bag gingerly and took it, holding it close like it was something precious. His cookie was eaten and his coffee cup empty, so you extended a hand for his trash. “And a refill for the road?”

“No, I can’t put you out like that,” he shook his head. “I really can’t.” 

You bumped his hip with yours gently, “consider it a welcome home. Just don’t make it a habit of having to come home from prison, yeah?” You tried to make a joke, and for a moment feared it fell awfully flat, but then you heard his warm laughter, and that made you smile really big.

“I- yeah. Okay, I can agree to those terms,” his eyes crinkled with his smile, and you led him back into the cafe before refilling his coffee and sliding it across the counter. “Thank you,” he told you simply. “For everything. I’ll, uh… I’ll see you at the next movie night I’m told we apparently have,” he gave a face that showed he had no idea what the current hangout habits were. You just giggled and waved.

“Yeah, Eddie. I’ll see you there. Come by anytime.”

…….........................................

It didn’t take that long for you to see Eddie again. In fact, instead of waiting to see him when you saw your friends, you barely had to wait at all. Two days later, he showed up in the morning, for another cup of coffee. He looked sleepier this time, still in his leather jacket, ripped jeans, and a band t-shirt, though this time it was a band you’d heard of but weren’t super familiar with. When he saw you, he smiled, eyes lighting up a bit, with the warmth of recognition gleaming in them. “Hi. I couldn’t stop thinking about that coffee, so… I’m back,” he told you, and you couldn’t help your beaming smile back.

“So are you getting the same as last time? Or do you wanna try something new?” 

He chewed on his lip as he considered it, and let out a hum. “I think… um… maybe something new. Five years of repetition is enough,” he nodded decisively, and it made you smile. 

“Something new. Well, if you liked the Paladin brew, I think you’ll really like the Salty Bard. It uses the same base espresso, but it’s got a salted caramel twist to it,” you told him, already getting everything ready to make him his drink. 

He agreed with an intrigued look, and you prepared his drink while trying to make conversation - who he’d seen so far, how his return to real life was treating him. You learned that he’d only really seen his band and Dustin, but that he figured they’d want to throw him some kind of homecoming soon. You kept quiet, but you had heard rumors of a homecoming dinner party yourself, when Dustin had stopped by the day prior to borrow a book you’d promised him.

When he had his drink in hand, you also handed Eddie a new pastry to try. You’d allowed him to pay for his coffee, so he started to pull out his wallet and you refused. You had something of a silent battle of wills staring contest, but you did ultimately win, and he sipped gratefully at his coffee while snacking on the muffin top you’d given him. You were going to take your break to chat with him, but as the foot traffic in the shop increased, so did his discomfort, until he excused himself to go about his day. You noticed, but didn’t comment. 

Eddie’s visits became something regular. Two weeks into his being home, you’d seen him every other day, almost like clockwork. It was like he knew when the shop was slow, because he only ever appeared when it wasn’t busy. Until the one Saturday he arrived, looking disheveled. He had on his usual leather jacket, faded blue jeans, and a black band hoodie, hands stuffed in his hoodie pocket. You quickly hopped behind the register to take his order before the group of teens waiting in line, but thankfully they were too distracted chatting with one another to really notice. 

Eddie’s curls were falling out of his bun, but he made no move to fix the hairdo, just sighing when he got to the register. He’d tried all of the coffee options, so he was starting to make his way through the teas now. “Surprise me?” He requested softly, and you couldn’t help but smile and comply. 

“You look frazzled,” you said, not unkindly, as you tried to make conversation while making his drink. 

He let out an amused huff and sighed. “That obvious?” 

“You’re here when there are people around, for one,” you point out with a smile, “and your bun is coming loose. I’m no detective, but I can sense a change in pattern when I see one.” He stuffed a dollar in the tip jar, and nodded silently. You didn’t push, just waiting as you prepared his drink. It was a beat before he finally spoke up.

“I have a job interview later, bartending at a place nearby. The only place willing to interview me. And I’m trying not to lose my shit about it. Cause I can only couch surf for so long, you know?” He pulled his hair tie out and ran a hand through his messy curls, before pulling them up again, neater this time. “People aren’t exactly lining up to hire a convict.” 

Your heart tugged at the insinuation that he was somehow less than, and you pursed your lips. “Why don’t you interview here? We’re hiring openers.” 

He looked back up at you curiously, like you were suggesting something entirely insane. “You sure the boss would want me around paying customers? Half this town still thinks I’m some kinda drug dealing cult leader. Is that who your boss wants making coffees and taking orders?”

“A reformed drug dealing cult leader, that’s how you sell it,” you teased, to which he cracked a smile. “Besides, I promise, the powers that be here? They don’t care about your reputation or what people think of you. If you’re interested in interviewing… just let me know. We can schedule something.” You slid his drink to him and he raised it in quiet thanks.

“Yeah, I’ll… I’ll think about it. I’ll definitely think about it. Thank you,” he offered you a soft sort of smile, before heading out the door.

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