#ask prompt answer

[lovely-laceys-blog]

*pointing and laughing* hahah commitment issues

YOU KNOW WHAT-

you’re right

its not her fault everyone around her dies djdhgdg

[dippingmytoesin]

The Realm's Greatest Actor

Danny didn't mean to lie. He really didn't. Or, well, he did. But he didn't want to! He had no choice.

He wasn't great at lying, but he was amazing at acting.

So that's what he did. He acted, playing the part of a thousand-year-old king stuck as a kid. It was easy because it wasn't fully an act.

Danny had died. When he died, he was fourteen. His ghost stayed fourteen forever. His human half stopped noticeably aging at 18 or 19-ish. He has been a ghost for... 240 years? 245? Maybe a little more. And he has been the Ghost King for 235.

So, he acted the part. When he was summoned, he pulled out the theatrics. Chill the room, frost the floor and walls, maybe a little of the ceiling. Fancy cape, fancy crown, fancy fantasy king clothes. Presentation of what most expect.

But he was forever fourteen, so he needed a little... something more, if you will. Floating around, randomly appearing behind people, the occasional echoing giggle. A fae-like trickster, if you will.

So was his act. He would get summoned, decide whether to do the thing or not, maybe have a mostly harmless twist. Like making people make him food, or he turning the big bad into a squirrel, or whatever. A childish trickster, with the powers of a god.

He set up some rules for himself he didn't actually have to follow.

Don't go into a room before invited, but after even the slightest invitation, he could go whenever he pleased for the rest of eternity.

Shake hands to 'seal a deal' or, if they're really gross, snap. And when you shake, do way too much; fast and eager.

Whenever someone asks him to do something, ask for something in return. If they say no to what he asked, just huff and do the thing they asked anyway.

Laugh at random comments, and make random comments that make no sense. i.e, "Wow. The walls are so hungry here! You should probably paint them blue.

Sprinkle a little ice on random things, and anything he eats or drinks. Don't explain it, and maybe do it for some people he likes.

Randomly stare at things, and tap/poke a door knob before opening the door.

There were a few smaller things, but that was the gist of it. Random rules to throw people off his scent. Leave them wondering and curious.

So, when Danny is summoned to help with a world-ending threat by a bunch of heroes that remind him of when he was a kid watching cartoons, he helps. And he stays. But how long can he keep up this charade?

(Prompt- you're here!) (part 1)

[somanyfandomsorkinafs]

(I am ~buzzing~ with ideas…. Allow me to release some)

Once Danny was an adult, he decided to join Ellie in her ‘permanent world tour’. It’s better than staying in Amity where the opinion of Phantom hasn’t gotten much better. Besides, the portal caused the veil to get weaker, allow ghost to wreak havoc where ever they want.

He’s met a lot new ghost cause of this too. Old as Mycenaean Greece to non humans who came to Earth and died there. Danny’s learnt so much from them that he’s basically a walking in Encyclopaedia.

So, Danny’s decided “fuck it.” and has it became a part-time history teacher. It’s fun! He knows the details by heart and is able to make it more fun than just droning on about the same old wars and whatever. He enjoys it, the kids enjoy it and the ghosts having their stories told!

Of course, this does cause some problems when people try to correct him. Danny’s argument? “I got them correct sources.”

And when anyone asks him how knows his sources are correct? “My source was there when it happened.”

Cue the dc world thinking that Danny’s just some immortal guy whose decided to use his immortality for good(TM)

[save-the-villainous-cat]

“Feeling lonely, hm?”

The hero didn’t burden their head with turning towards the voice. They weren’t in the mood for cruel charades.

Instead, they stared at the TV they hadn’t turned on in over a month and debated if not showing up at work would cause any huge conflicts.

Probably.

They closed their eyes.

“Don’t tell me you’re ignoring me,” the villain’s voice purred. “Me.”

“You’re not real, so it’s my obligation to ignore you,” the hero said. They stared at their hands and couldn’t help but feel like their physique had changed. They didn’t seem to be as muscular as before. They didn’t seem all that healthy either.

“Not real, huh?” The villain walked towards the hero’s armchair and let themselves drop lazily. “Now that’s a bit unfair.”

“Yeah,” the hero said. They stared at the coffee table with the empty coffee mug. “Some things have been pretty unfair.”

“I thought you were supposed to ignore me.”

“R-right.” The hero looked away and once again, their heart got quite heavy. They couldn’t sleep at night, that was one of the more annoying things. Eating was also difficult, working was…unbearable. They couldn’t think straight.

And above all those hallucinations…their eyes went back to the villain who was stretching in their chair.

Usually, those hallucinations made one mistake. Or better, that part of the hero’s brain that was responsible, made a mistake. Mischaracterising the villain in such a way that the entire illusion shut down entirely.

The hero hadn’t told their doctors about their imaginary nemesis. But that was mainly because the hero would probably not be allowed to work as a superhero for a few weeks.

They clenched their fists, dug their fingernails into their own flesh.

“You look troubled,” the villain said. “Are you eating enough? You’ve lost weight.”

“I’m fine,” the hero whispered back. They looked up at the ceiling.

“You miss me.” Every single time. The hallucination said that every single time. The hero turned their gaze towards the villain’s image and stared.

“Yes, I do. So what?”

“Most people feel some sense of accomplishment after beating their enemies,” the villain said. They put one of their thighs on the other. “And two months is quite enough time to find a new enemy worth your time.”

The hero’s eyes widened.

“I don’t want someone else. And I…technically, I didn’t defeat you. I didn’t kill you, I didn’t arrest you. You just…” The hero’s throat burnt like acid and their bottom lip trembled. “…you just died.”

They swallowed the pain and leaned forward.

“Just wish I could’ve said goodbye,” they mumbled. This time, the hallucination didn’t answer. “That wasn’t fair. Our relationship didn’t deserve that end.”

“I didn’t think you’d care about the end,” the villain said.

“Isn’t the end the most important part?” the hero asked. The taste on their tongue was extremely bitter and they knew it didn’t come from the coffee they had finished an hour ago. “Either way, you are haunting me. So, I guess once again I get the worst of it all. You got the easy way out. As always.”

“Haunting you?”

“Yeah.”

“You must really like me, then,” the villain said. They chuckled sweetly, like they had whenever the hero was embarrassing themselves. For some reason, the pit in the hero’s stomach grew, that unsettling feeling spread.

The hallucination had never been cruel enough to laugh. It was such a wonderful sound that even the hero’s lips curved into a smile.

“Yeah, can you blame me? I must’ve fallen a few months ago.” Suddenly, the hallucination was quiet again.

Their eyes met and for a second, the hero swore it was the real villain in front of them. They tilted their head.

“You never mentioned that.”

“Too afraid of rejection, I suppose,” the hero answered. They shrugged. “Any rejection would have been better than this, though.”

The hallucination got up from the chair and slowly walked to the couch where the hero was sitting on.

“I would have never rejected you, you dense…” The hallucination was even capable of blushing. The hero frowned. “Whatever.”

Ultimately, the illusion grabbed them, sat down on the hero’s lap and kissed them.

It took the hero a few more seconds to realise what was really happening.

[whump-in-the-closet]

Ummm something with the team finally finding whumpee and untying them.

Whumpee repeating "I didn't break, I swear I didn't, I didn't tell them anything, I didn't," while sobbing.

It's true, whumpee didn't tell them anything, but all that caretaker cares about now is trying to calm whumpee down before they bleed out even more.

A Messy Rescue

whumpee slumped over until caretaker grabs their face, desperate to see if they're still conscious

wide eyes and split lip-- a flash of recognition-- and before caretaker can assure them that its all going to be okay, whumpee panics

"I didn't say anything, I didn't, please you have to--" their sentences fragment as they gasp for air. "You have to believe me!"

At first, the team is horrified that this is whumpee's recognition. They feel sick. One teammate turns away, unable to stand it. Unable to watch. It's wrong.

Caretaker snaps out of it first. "Help me cut them down!" Then, they notice whumpee's blood drenching through their once-white shirt

As the team works to free whumpee's wrists from the shackles, Caretaker frantically tries to assess the damage. But whumpee keeps thrashing, jerking out of reach and flinching at their touch.

Alternating between, "I didn't say anything!" and "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry- please don't-- please don't hurt me!"

The teammates all have these grim expressions, mouths in a thin line

A fluttering horror is embedded in caretaker's chest-- this is so much worse than they could have imagined

Even better if Leader, with real pain in their voice, says "We have to keep them quiet."

Caretaker pulls away for a second, hands half-full of bandages. "What're you saying?"

Leader breaks through the last bit of metal and whumpee slumps to the floor, shivering uncontrollably. Caretaker places one hand protectively on their back, rubbing up and down. They don't stop crying. Leader looks away. "Gag them. Or get them to shut up. We don't need them giving away our position to Whumper"

Carrying a gagged and sobbing whumpee out of the building, caretaker can't look them in the eyes. They keep whispering how sorry they are, but they have no idea if whumpee can even hear them or cares. It feels like betrayal, but they can only hope it was worth it.

"We'll get you better, I promise."

[shanastoryteller]

happy birthday! Percy jackson time travel please!!

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17

Poseidon doesn't often travel to Hades's realm. Mostly because entering another god's domain always causes more trouble than its worth, but also because the whole place is unnerving.

Case in point, Charon ferries him across without argument and no one stops him as he stomps over to the throne room. That's not a good sign. Hades is there, sitting on his throne with an open book in one hand and a pen in the other. He looks up at Poseidon's entrance but doesn't say anything.

Persephone's throne is empty.

"I have need to speak to your wife," he says rightly.

"She's busy," Hades says. "If you have a complaint to lodge, you may as well do it with me."

He hesitates. It's impossible for Hades not to know what Persephone has done, but that doesn't mean he knows anything else.

His lips twitch. "Perhaps you're upset over my wife claiming your son as her own?"

Poseidon stares. "How did you-"

"Persephone can have no children but mine," he says. Poseidon grimaces. Right. The myth of Persephone swallowing six seeds had been more metaphor than fact.

To free herself from the curse of being bound to the underworld, Persephone need only to grow lush with Hades's children six times. A high price to pay, but hardly insurmountable for a goddess, especially one who's domain is spring.

Persephone and Hades have no children. She remains his wife and queen by choice, no matter how Demeter insists that Hades is sabotaging her efforts by bedding mortal women. One time she'd said this to Hades's face during one of his rare visits to Olympus, and he'd replied, "I am loyal six months out of the year, which is more than can be said for the rest of you."

Perhaps he shouldn't be so surprised that Persephone hasn't bothered to hide anything from Hades.

"What are you going to do about it?" he asks.

Hades blinks. "Do about it? Nothing. Any child of Persephone is a child of mine, after all." He grins. "I do hope Percy enjoys his new abilities."

Poseidon bites back a groan.

It just gets worse and worse.

[maybanksprincess]

satisfy you

warnings: 18+, smut, cheating, p in v sex, pet names, kissing, squirting, drinking.

summary: reader is dating rafe, and he isnt satisfying her needs, jj offers to help.

pairings: nice!kook!reader x pogue!jj

you attended this big bonfire that everyone went to every single year in the outer banks.

if you lived in the outerbanks you knew that bonfires were the core place that drama started.

usually you would go to drink one or two beers, have fun, and dance with your friends a little. but this time that wasnt the case.

Rafe had been getting closer with this bartender from the country club, and it was really starting to weigh down on you.

you tried to ignore it at first, but he had started going to the country club a lot more often, more than usual. and he stopped touching you all together.

first he stopped fucking you as often, but then it quickly turned into just no attention or affection from him at all. and it really hurt.

you went to this party to get wasted, and forget about all your problems, even if it was temporary.

you drunk a few beers, and downed a couple shots, now a bit tipsy from the alcohol floating in your system.

you were sitting in the grass, knees pressed up to your chest, back up against a oak tree with a few carvings on the bark of it.

your just staring at everyone partying and having fun, zoning out and just lost in your thoughts.

your snapped out of your thoughts as you see a fit blonde walk in your direction, stopping beside you.

"sup, can i sit?" the blonde asks

"yeah, of course." i look up at him and scoot over, making room.

as he sat next to me in the grass i smelled a mixture of alcohol and weed on him.

"so, what are you doin' alone at a bonfire?" he asks while giving you a once over, admiring the sight of ur curves in that dress.

"jus' trying to get my mind off things, you know?" i look up, finally locking eyes with him.

"yeah? things like what? i bet ur pretty little kook life is awesome." he says as he brings the joint between his fingers to his lips, taking a puff out of it.

"kook life really isnt all that great jay. not as great as you think" you say with a hint of vulnerability behind your words.

"it actually sucks," you continue "all the girls are mean. all they care about is money, and their boyfriends fancy cars. and all the kooks are assholes."

he puffs out the smoke, exhaling and listening to your rambling.

"i just feel like..im stuck in bubble wrap sometimes. i dunno if that makes sense" you put your head down, feeling like you said too much.

he turns so hes sitting in front of you, his face in front of yours.

"y'know its okay to get outta the bubble wrap sometimes..." he says, his eyes trailing to the hint of exposed cleavage from ur dress.

you dont know if it was the alcohol in your system or the way he was looking at you, but damn, he was so hot.

you find yourself staring, and look away, until he uses his index finger to tilt your chin back so your face meets his.

you felt a familiar pooling between your legs, but it wasn't like the pooling that happened when rafe was around.

you barely got turned on by rafe by the way he treated you, literally having to beg him to touch you most of the time. he couldn't commit to one woman, and the better of you knew that. you just couldn't seem to let him go.

i involuntarily clench my thighs, and it doesn't go unnoticed by jj, his eyes dart down to the exposed skin on your thighs.

his cargo shorts start to tighten, as if he wasnt already hard when he first approached.

you and jj start to pass the blunt, and eventually the tension becomes too much, the weed and alcohol is floating in your systems, and you find yourselves leaning into eachother.

your lips eventually meet, and it only escalates from there.

at first it was sweet and slow, but then it quickly got hot and heavy, your tongues tangling together.

you straddle his lap, grinding your clothed core against his bulge that was straining in his shorts. his hands start to grope your ass, as his dick seeks more friction from you.

he groans, and his arms hook under your thighs, he pushes himself off the ground, supporting your weight easily.

he carries you over to the twinkie, all the other pogues are still occupied out at the bonfire partying.

he uses one hand to open the sliding door, and lays you flat on your back on the surface of the backseat. he shuts the car door and he wastes no time in connecting your lips with his again.

in between kisses, he mutters out "'m gonna fuck you so good, ya gonna forget rafe exists."

following his words, he unbuckles his shorts and slides them down his legs, kicking them to the side, along with his boxers.

you look down at his dick and your eyes widen. you've never took dick that big before, fuck you were panicking.

he smirks at your reaction, and he slides your dress down your thighs, and off, tossing it where his boxers were. he lowers his face to angle it down with yours, his arms on either side of your head.

he strokes his hard cock, his tip leaks salty white precum on your thighs. his hands go down to the waistband of your panties and he hooks his fingers into it.

"can i take these off, pretty girl?" he asks, his ocean blue eyes boring into yours.

you nod, breathing getting heavy, the pool between your legs intensifying by the second. you were really about to get fucked by jj maybank.

you almost couldn't believe it, you both came from totally opposite sides, he grew up in the cut and you didnt. it was weird, but in that moment you didnt care.

all you cared about was getting his dick inside of you.

with the fingers that are hooked in ur panties, he slides them down your thighs with. he tosses ur panties and his eyes zero in on your spread pussy.

he groans, his cock jumping at the sight. he spreads your thighs some more, and the sudden feeling of a warm substance hitting your pussy shakes you out of your thoughts.

you look down to see his cock leaking precum onto your clit.

he spreads his precum on your folds with his tip, you both moaning at the situation. he lines his tip with your entrance and he pushes himself in.

as he slowly pushes in, he dips his head down to kiss your neck to soothe the slight pain from the stretch of his thick, girthy, cock.

he whimpers against your neck at the feeling of your tight walls fluttering around his member.

he starts to slowly thrust in and out, before his thrusts become faster and deeper. you grab onto his shoulders as a leverage, even though you weren't going to fall.

as he continues to thrust in and out of your sopping pussy, he speaks, his voice muffled by your neck. "mm what a fuckin' shame. that kook passed up the chance to fuck this pussy?"

you moan at his words, the stretch of his dick, the sound of his voice, the way his hand comes down to rub your clit, its all too much.

you start to see stars as you throw your head back, pussy clamping down on his cock. your moans and his groans fill the twinkie. the car rocking with every thrust, due to however old the junk was.

his tip nudges the spongy spot inside your pussy that makes you squirm, you start to whimper and let out long moans, signaling your close.

jj can tell by the way your clamping down on him, and the way your eyes roll back, that your close. he starts to thrust into you at a relentless speed, rubbing your clit rapidly, meeting your lips in a heated kiss.

you shout into his mouth "fuck jj!"

he smirks against your lips, pulling away for a brief moment to speak, his speed never faltering "cmon baby; tell me i fuck you better than rafe." he breathes out

i moan, tears flowing out of your eyes "fuck yes, so much better!" your eyes roll back again

he feels your nails scratching at his back, desperately trying to hold onto something. "yeah? who do u belong to now, hm?"

"you jayjay.." you barely manage to get out with the tears flowing out of your eyes.

he kisses your forehead gently, still slamming into your pussy. "cmon, give it t'me princess. cum for me baby."

following his words, you feel a unfamiliar gush of liquid come out of your hole. you've never done that before. it feels different but it feels so damn good.

you scream out, continuing to squirt on his cock.

he thrusts a few more times, groaning and moaning as he cums on your tummy, "your mine now. my fuckin' girl."

after he comes down from his high, he pulls his phone out, and snaps a picture with the flash, adding a text to it that says "jus made your girl squirt, looks like shes mine now, kook 😎"

he sends it to rafe, and then he helps u back into ur dress, then puts his shorts back on after.

"y'know i meant what i said, ur mine now." he seals his words with a quick kiss.

[ofbatsandballads]

Yay! I’m so glad you take requests. Feel free to decide if you want to write this or not, it’s fine either way :)

So, I was thinking about Jason dating civilian!reader, and her coming home all disheveled and horrified. Since she knows about him being Red Hood, she can confide in him. She had just killed someone for the first time, whether it was an accident, self defense or whatever, you decide.

I was just wondering how Jason would handle this situation since usually he’s the one doing the killing.

Thank you <3

oh, this is amazing food for thought. I actually think he’d be the very best person to come to in such a situation because he has experience with killing. who’s gonna understand you better than him? literally nobody. had something similar to this in my drafts but now my mind is whirling in a whole host of directions. excellent prompt, nonnie!

jason todd x f!reader. warnings include graphic depictions of violence and killing (in self defense), attempted and failed sexual assault, the aftermath of both events (reader’s in shock), hurt/comfort. this one’s got heavier subject matter so please do mind the warnings, folks. i did way too much research of the Gotham Knights map for this, but it’s my favorite depiction of the city so so be it. also reader and Jason live in the Belfry bc i said so (personal hc that i may or may not elaborate on some time). and one last thing! the romanized Arabic at the end is “حياتي ” which translates to “my life”. I love the idea that Jason picked up Arabic terms of endearment from Talia calling Bruce just about every one she could.

Jason wakes up to soft afternoon sunlight shining on his face. He grumbles out a gravelly hum and scrunches up his face in protest against being awakened when he was sleeping so nicely. He reaches out to find the comforting warmth of his beloved beside him, to pull you in and bury his face into your hair so he can hide from the morning for a bit longer.

All he finds are cold sheets and an empty pillow.

He bolts upright. Something’s wrong. You never, never wake up before him. He doesn’t even register the way that the sudden abundance of light stings his eyes. He takes stock of his surroundings, his training executing on autopilot. The open layout of the Belfry lets him get his bearings in seconds. He doesn’t see you anywhere from the bird’s eye view of your loft bedroom. There’s no smell of food in the kitchen nor any mess that would indicate you’d been working in there. The living room space, fully visible below, is empty too. The only enclosed space in your home, the bathroom that’s just around the corner from your bedroom, is dead quiet. No running water, no sweet singing, no familiar coughing from swallowed toothpaste. And without so much as leaving your bed, Jason’s already come to a conclusion that sends his heart pounding and dries his throat. You’re not here.

He’s up and grabbing the 9mm taped under your bedside table in the span of a few breaths. He moves through your home methodically, like he’s clearing one of Gotham’s criminal hideouts. There’s no sign of a struggle. Nothing’s been disturbed. He’s not surprised by this—barring Wayne Manor, the Belfry is the most secure building in Gotham. That’s precisely why Jason had moved you both here once you decided to live together. He checks the coffee table and sees that your phone and wallet are gone. A different type of fear takes over now. One that makes his heart ache. What if you’ve finally had enough, finally seen that he’s not good enough for you, not worth sticking around for? It makes him sick. He swallows hard and tries to clear the blistering thought from his head. No, that’s not you. You’re not cruel. You’re kind and gentle and loving. You wouldn’t hurt a fly. And you wouldn’t hurt him.

The sight of gears turning in his periphery catches his attention. He sees the cables pulling and the security panel go green, and he’s running to the elevator doors damn near ready to pry them open. He hastily tucks the 9mm into the waistband of his pajama pants, easily within reach if he needs it. Relief floods him when the huge metal doors grind open and he sees your pretty face on the other side. Then his heart drops when he realizes that that pretty face is scraped and splattered with blood.

Your hair is tangled and wet, dripping dirty water down your neck and staining the bright red of his your favorite hoodie. Your hands, which shake as they reach blindly towards him, are stained crimson and battered too. But it’s your eyes that haunt him. You look broken.

“Jay,” you croak out, unable to summon anything but a plea for the one person who can keep you safe.

The tears fall from your eyes at the same time that you collapse into Jason’s arms. He drags you inside and locks down the Belfry. Jason wants to panic but feels a strange sense of calm about himself. As loathe as he’d be to admit it, he finds himself falling into Bruce’s habit of assessment and action.

“Baby, what happened?” he asks, voice steady and assured.

You don’t even hear him. You’re digging your hands into his shirt, clinging on to him like he’s the only thing keeping you tethered to Earth. He may very well be. He feels you going rigid and cold and he knows he has to get you stable before you descend further into shock.

“Listen to me,” he says firmly, adding on and enunciating your name for emphasis.

That sparks some semblance of lucidity. Jason hasn’t called you by your name in months, much preferring you be his baby or his sweetheart or his doll, or simply his. If it jars you back to reality, so be it.

“I need you to tell me what happened,” he demands gently.

It all pours out of you like a flood.

You’d woken up early by chance this afternoon. Normally you’d just close your eyes and snuggle closer to Jason to catch a couple more hours of sleep, but you wanted to do something nice for him. So you’d gotten up and gone to Lemay’s Flower Emporium in Gotham Heights. You’d bought him the prettiest bouquet of red and pink roses, so big that you had to hold on to it with both arms. The taxi ride from the Heights back to Coventry Station went fine. You were almost home. So close that you could see the clock tower where your heart was sleeping peacefully.

Then you stopped at Commerce Avenue Station. You just wanted to get him some pastries from the little bakery tucked away on 3rd Street that you both love. It was a decent walk; you knew that. You also knew that Jason wouldn’t want you to go out of your way by yourself. But it was morning and you were a grown woman and you could handle yourself, right? Well, that’s what you thought until a pair of hands clamped down on your shoulders and yanked you violently into a side alley.

Jason had prepared you for something like this. You’d spent countless evenings with him teaching you self defense techniques in the training area of your home. None of it mattered because the man that had you by the shoulders slammed you so hard into the brick wall that all your thoughts went hazy. Before you could regain your footing, you were shoved to the ground. The bitter sting of your palms scraping open pierced through the fog, as did the crushing weight of the vile man on top of you. Fear shot through you as the man started tugging at his belt and you realized that this wasn’t intended to be a mugging. You tried to scream but a grimy hand clamped over your mouth, hitting your head against the ground and soaking your hair in dirty rain water and blood.

Your eyes darted around in search of someone—anyone. But no one was coming. You felt fingernails scratch against your stomach as clammy hands curled into the waistband of your sweatpants and suddenly you saw your savior. A brick from the damaged alleyway laid within reach. You didn’t even think when you grabbed it, when you swung it as hard as you could into the side of the man’s head. The corner hit his temple and he crumbled to the side. You rose to your knees and hit the man again. And again. All you could remember were Jason’s firm instructions: if someone makes it a choice of you or them, you make sure that it’s you no matter what it takes.

“I don’t r-remember anything else,” you sob into his chest. “There was so much blood, Jason. And his head—oh, God.”

Jason shushes you gently. He holds you tight in his arms like he’s terrified that if he loosens his grip even slightly, you’ll fade away on him.

“Don’t think about it, baby. You did what you needed to do. You protected yourself. I’m so proud of you.”

“I killed someone, Jason. I killed someone.”

You look at him wide eyed—afraid, horrified, guilty. No. Jason won’t have that. You will not feel guilty over some lowlife scumbag who wanted to hurt you, who probably would have killed you. Jason can’t even stomach the thought. He wants to put a bullet into whatever’s left of that predator’s head. No, the only shame in you killing that man is that you got to him before Jason could.

“I need you to listen to me,” he says, repeats your name again for emphasis. “You. Did. Nothing. Wrong.”

“Someone’s dead because of me, Jay,” you argue, gripping him tighter as your panic rises.

“Baby, do you know how many people are dead because of me?” he asks. “Far, far more than I’d ever want you to know. Do you think I’m a monster, honey? That I did something wrong?”

He knows it’s an apples to oranges comparison. But you’ve used this same tactic on him so many times that he also knows it’s effective. Every time he demeans himself for something, you ask if he’d treat you the way he treats himself for the same thing. The answer is always no.

“No!” you reply emphatically. “You protect people. You do it to keep people safe.”

“You did it to keep yourself safe.”

“But—”

“No buts. Or ifs. No ands, either, just in case you get any ideas,” he says lightly, brushing a speck of blood off your cheekbone.

You smile at his stupid little comment and he feels the tension in his body release just slightly. As long as there’s light back in your eyes for even a moment, he knows that you’ll be okay. He picks you up, lets you cling your arms around his neck and bury your face in his chest as he carries you to the bathroom upstairs. He runs you a bath and, after asking repeatedly if you were okay with it, undresses you and washes the blood and grime from your body. He wraps you in a big fluffy towel, dries and brushes your hair, and tends to your injuries before he bundles you up in his comfiest hoodie and pajama pants. He soothes you when your tears make their return and never leaves your line of sight because he knows he makes you feel safe.

The thought gnaws at him throughout the day. It outright scalds him as he lies in bed with you after deciding to skip patrol. He’s failed you. Failed to protect you, failed to ensure nothing harms a hair on your head. He’s failed at taking care of you, the one thing that matters more to him than anything else. He’s seconds away from spiraling into self hatred when your sweet voice comes calling, soft and pleading.

“Jay…please stay with me,” you say softly.

Your eyes are clear and focused again. You squeeze his waist tight where your arms are wrapped around him, like you’re physically trying to anchor him in place in your bed. The look on your face says that you know exactly where his mind was headed. You see right through him. It makes him feel more vulnerable than anything else, and it surprises him how much he loves the feeling. And Jason, as always and for eternity, can’t bring himself to deny you. So he pulls himself together and shoves all his self loathing down. He can deal with it later—you need him more right now.

“I’m right here, hayati. Not goin’ anywhere, I promise.”

He kisses you gently and feels some of that self hatred wash away when you chase after him for more goodnight kisses. He feels it dissipate even more when you fall asleep in his arms with a soft smile on your face. It’s all but forgotten as he drifts off too, safe in the knowledge that you’re here with him, that he can feel your heart beating pressed tight against his own.

[dreamwinged]

misc. selfship asks ❤︎

thank you for 400! <3 answer these asks however you'd like, but please practice reblog karma if applicable! 💌

🧸 - how would your f/o try to comfort you if you were upset? 🦢 - what's a petty argument you'd have with your f/o? 🍡 - what nicknames do you have for each other?

🪽 - what was your first kiss with your f/o like, if you've had it?

🪺 - describe your f/os perception of you before you got together, compared to what it is now! 🪷 - if the roles were reversed and your f/o was the one selfshipping with you, what would their blog look like?

🧊 - how would your f/o text you? would they use proper punctuation/capitalization, or type more informally?

🍋‍🟩 - similarly, what would your contact names be for each other?

💍 - how do you and your f/o feel about marriage?

🪻 - what's your f/o's coffee or drink order?

☁️ - how does your f/o like to spend their free time with you? 🛍️ - what would your f/o get you as a gift? additionally, what would you get for them?

🫧 - what song(s) remind you of your f/o?

🪼 - what’s your favorite way to feel closer to your f/o?

proship/comship/neutral dni

[classica-meretrix]

Hiii! I saw that your requests where open and I was wondering if you could do Charlie Weasley x reader? The reader works at Hogwarts as the Astronomy teacher and Harry, Ron, and Hermione take the readers class and the reader is their favorite teacher because they’re non biased to house’s, and they make the class fun and not boring. One day Charlie goes to Hogwarts to visit his partner and to help with her lesson on how the the night sky and stars help him with his job with the dragons and Ron is all kinds of shocked that his brother is there, and Malfoy says something to Hermione that offends her and the reader gives him a look and he actually apologizes and that shocks the trio (the reader is like Draco’s aunt or something) then after class Ron goes to talk to his brother and finds his brother and teacher kissing cause they’ve been dating for a while and that just blows Ron’s mind?

Also I love your work! Thank you sooo much for your time >>>💗

thank you so much for the request, love! I hope you like it ❣

Draco, the Dragon Wrym?

pairing: charlie weasley x fem!reader genre: fluff content/warnings: use of y/n and l/n, reader is said to be draco's aunt and its alluded to be on narcissa's side but not explicitly stated summary: reader works at hogwarts, and quickly became one of the golden trio's favorite teachers! but after a guest speaker drops in, ron makes a shocking discovery

Harry hurried down the hallway, quickly trailed by Ron and Hermione.

"We're going to be late!" Hermione cried as she rushed past the boys.

"No later than me," I laughed, coming up behind them. The three spun around, shocked.

"Miss. L/N!" Hermione gasped. I—What are you doing?"

"Running late," I answered, calmly walking beside them despite my statement. They were all first years, but I knew them well enough by now. Harry, well that was obvious. Ron, I had gone to school with his siblings—and happened to be a little closer with one of his brothers—and knew him mostly by name and stories. Hermione, I had heard about from the other teachers about her young brilliance.

I, however, was surely a mystery to them. We had seen each other in the dining hall and corridors, but the first years hadn't had an astronomy class yet, as it was still the first few weeks of term.

"Aren't you worried about not being on time?" Harry asked, his nose scrunched in confusion.

"No, not particularly," I said with a smirk, ducking behind a tapestry.

There was a beat of silence as I walked through the dark hall before a stampede of tiny feet came running after me.

"I know a shortcut," I continued. They all stared at me in shock, following me up a thin set of stairs.

"Why are you showing us a secret corridor?" Hermione questioned. "Isn't that forbidden?"

"Not explicitly. Besides—" I turned to Ron. "—I know your brothers well enough to know they've probably found this already, and it's just a matter of time before they share it with you."

Ron nodded, clearly not surprised by my assessment of the twins. I led them out of the hallway and held open the wooden door to the astronomy tower. "After you three."

The class was already buzzing, ambling back and forth talking to friends, or leaning over the rails to look out at the darkened grounds. With the arrival of the three students the class fell silent, eyes landing on them, then myself.

"Hello!" I greeted, earning a tired murmur from the group. "I know, it's late, and I'm sure you all want to go to bed just as much as I do, but there's work to be done. I'm Miss. L/N, I'll be your astronomy teacher for this term, and hopefully many more."

The class had started to gather in a loose semi-circle, awaiting their first order. A few of the Slytherins rubbed their eyes, joined with a couple Gryffindor yawns.

"For your first class you shouldn't have your telescopes, but it's such a beautiful night, I think we can break a few rules. I won't tell you if you don't."

That earned a sleepy laugh from the group as they bustled to unpack their telescopes. Hermione exchanged a worried glance with a fellow classmate at the premise of going off the lesson plan.

"Miss. L/N," Draco called in a sickly-sweet voice.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy?" I asked.

"Can you set up my telescope for me?" He gave me his best attempt at puppy dog eyes, surely on the verge of playing the nephew card.

"I've shown you how to do this twenty times. We both know you can manage just fine."

Ron was close by and issued a low 'oooooo' to Harry, seemingly taking great pleasure in Draco receiving push back from a teacher.

"Mother said I was doing it wrong," he pouted.

"And your mother failed astronomy. Don't listen to her."

He let out a short laugh before quickly silencing himself as if he'd just remembered it wasn't polite to mock your mother.

Instead, he let out another huff. "Fine, I guess I'll do it myself. And I thought having an aunt as a teacher would be cool."

"Aunt?" I heard Ron gasp as I went to help Neville, who was somehow tangled in the legs of his telescope.

The next few weeks passed as normal, and I saw a significant amount more of Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Almost the entire class came to the tower oddly energized for the lesson, but these three specifically seemed eager to learn.

As the students filed out one night I heard Ron mutter to Harry, "I wish she was my aunt."

I only laughed to myself, thinking of the hastily written letter that had arrived this morning:

Love, I've got a leave from work next week, and I'd like to see you while I'm off. Besides, it'd be good to see how Ron is settling in at school. Also, there's this dragon that's recently come in that reminds me of you. I know that's probably absurd to say, but something about how she looks at problems. You can see the gears turning. She's impossibly smart too. Just like you, love. Anyway, got to run. Dragons that need tending! See you soon. Yours forever, Charlie

I blushed as the sweet words before quickly writing a reply, offering for him to help with a class while he was here. He had just been going on about the effects of the stars on his scaley friends, and I figured it would make for a fun class topic.

"Finally!" I called as Charlie landed. "We're going to have to hurry, you're late."

He tucked his broom away before wrapping an arm around my waist and kissing my cheek. "Hello to you too, love."

I led him through the corridors by the hand, hurrying to get to class on time. "They have no idea you're coming. I'd hate for their first impression to be you bumbling in ten minutes late."

"It's fine! Besides, Ron would it expect it of me."

I playfully rolled my eyes, throwing open the door as we rushed up the stairs.

"Hello class!" I announced, slightly winded. "We have a special guest today! Please welcome a longtime friend of mine, Charlie Weasley!" Ron's eyes widened as Charlie appeared behind me, waving to the class.

"Charlie?" he blurted before hurriedly covering his mouth.

"The only and only," he answered with a smirk. "It's nice to meet you all! As Y/N—I mean, Miss. L/N said, I'm Charlie. I work with dragons is Romania."

Excited gasps went up across the group, everyone sharing gleeful looks with their friends.

"Yes, yes. Dragons," I said. "And that will the focus of today's lesson. Dragons, much like ourselves, are affected by the changing patterns of the stars and planets." I pointed to the star map behind me. "This constellation is called 'Draco'. I'm sure you can all guess what that means?"

Hermoine's hand shot in the air.

"Hermione?"

"Draco, Latin for dragon."

"Very good. Ten points for Gryffindor. The Draco constellation is found in the north, looping between the two dippers. It is displayed as a regal dragon."

Draco leaned towards one of his friends. "Hear that, regal."

"But his position among the stars was a punishment in Greek mythology," I continued, making Draco lose his former smugness.

"Can anyone tell me who defeated him?"

The group stayed silent, causing Draco's smirk to reappear as he leaned towards Hermione. "Quiet now, know-it-all?" he sneered. She furrowed her brows, quickly looking down at the floor.

"Draco," I scolded. "Apologize."

He looked at me offended. "Apologize? I'm not apologizing for stating a fact."

"Draco," I repeated, my tone harsh.

"Fine. I'm sorry," he spat.

"Like you mean it."

The class erupted into soft giggles as Draco glared at me.

"I'm sorry," he repeated through his teeth, but at least he was looking at her this time, and his tone lacked the usual sass.

"Anyway," I began, "Athena beat Draco, and banished him to the heavens. Now, he is seen in the northern sky. I'd like you all to set up your telescopes now."

The group began unpacking their bags as I turned back to Charlie.

"Not bad," he said with a smirk, crossing his arm over his chest. "You're making me wish I paid attention in astronomy."

"You should have," I chided, nudging his arm.

Ron came running up us as soon as his telescope was assembled, bumping into Charlie.

"I didn't know you were going to be here! When did you get here? How long are you staying? Does Mom know? Do Fred and Geor—"

"One at a time," Charlie laughed, embracing his brother. "I'm here for the week. It was a surprise. Why don't you go back to your friends and we can catch up tomorrow?"

"Okay!" Ron furiously nodded, scampering back to his station. The rest of class went smoothly, no more snide comments at the very least, and after our talk about the constellation, Charlie went on to tell the class about how the stars and their alignment effected dragons, and stories of their captive dragons' side effects.

Charlie said goodnight at the classroom door, deciding to walk his brother back to his dorm.

The next day I was having tea in my study when Charlie came bustling through the door with a wide grin on his smile.

"I've got something to show you," he announced."

I sat down my book, turning my chair towards him. "Go ahead."

He produced a small leather pouch from his pocket, something squirming and squeaking inside. Charlie dumped the contents into his palm and out tumbled a... green worm?

"What is that?" I asked, walking around the table to get a better look.

"Eastern Spitter Wyrm," he said proudly.

It was maybe four inch long and solid green except for the bronze spines that ran up it's back. It wiggled in his palm until it had balanced again, then began inspecting it's surroundings.

"This is little guy is about two years old, and normally much bigger, I just charmed him to bring him along. I figured he'd be fun to have in the next class, a tiny representation of Draco–who by the way, due to his lack of legs and wings isn't a dragon, but a wyrm."

I laughed at his nerdiness, kissing his cheek. "He's perfect. I'm sure the second years will love him, but I think it'd be best to keep him out of Fred and George's class."

Charlie nodded, sliding the wyrm back into his carrying pouch. "So, what are you up?"

"Reading," I answered, perching on the edge of my desk. He came to stand in front of me, gently stroking my cheek. "But I'm up for a distraction," I teased.

"You must've read my mind," he hummed, bringing his lips to mine.

He softly cupped my face in his hands as he kissed me, his lips moving in sync with mine. He had just slipped his tongue into my mouth when Ron came bursting through the study door.

"Blimey!" he yelled, causing us to spring apart. "You—You two—You were just—Kissing!" He frantically pointed between the two of us as I turned a deep shade of scarlet and Charlie nervously rubbed his neck, eyes glued to the floor.

"Did you need something?" I asked as delicately I could, trying to keep some semblance of professionalism.

"Kissing!" he repeated, still yelling.

"Would you stop that?" Charlie asked, hurrying over to shut the door behind his brother.

"Wait till I tell Harry," Ron mumbled to himself, still wide eyed. "My brother's dating the coolest teacher in Hogwarts."

I couldn't help but laugh, Charlie joining shortly.

"I'm flattered," I managed, collecting myself again.

"Favorite teacher?" Charlie asked with a smirk. "Can't say I'm surprised, quite sprung on her myself."

A smile spread on Ron's face, but he still looked as if he was struggling to process the new information, which he probably was.

"Come, Ron," I urged. "Why don't you join us for tea?"

"Alright," he said gleefully, bumbling over to desk.

[five-rivers]

Danny phantom au where Vlad hates BOTH fenton parents for almost killing him?

Vlad stared down at the boy he'd just knocked out. His eyes were working just fine, but his brain didn't want to process what he was seeing.

It couldn't be.

It was.

Danny Fenton was a half ghost. Just like him.

Vlad sank down to the floor, then knelt next to the boy. This was real. This was true. This... this changed everything.

He wasn't alone anymore. He wasn't alone anymore because those two blasted-- chocolate-covered-- those two bumbling morons had done it again! He wasn't alone, and his companion in misery was the son of the ones who had done this to him in the first place.

He was stunned. He was disgusted. He was fascinated.

Which left him a question: What should he do?

He had a plan for this weekend. He'd had a plan. He was going to humiliate Jack and Maddie. Frame them for stealing from him and assaulting him and his guests. It would barely be framing them, at that. They'd stolen his health, his youth, and his humanity. Turning on the portal so carelessly when he was standing there, inspecting it, might as well have been assault.

He had to admit, he hadn't even thought about their children. He'd assumed they'd be more of the same. Arrogant, careless, blind little monsters that would only benefit from spending a few years in government care. Considering the way Jack and Maddie had behaved in college, removing children from their care was nothing less than a public service.

Today, the children had seemed... not like that, exactly. Not like that at all, really, although Vlad had paid them little enough attention beyond keeping up his genial facade. Not like Jack. Not like Maddie. Their own people. An obvious realization in retrospect, but...

A half ghost.

He wasn't sure if he should be delighted or furious. Both emotions certainly existed in his core, warring with one another.

He-- He wanted. He wanted this. Someone who knew. Someone who would understand. He hadn't wanted that person to be related to them, but...

In that moment, he decided. He could work with this.

He would have to scrap his current plants, which was its own kind of pain, but he could work with this. Jack and Maddie... They couldn't be good parents. For goodness' sake, they'd killed their son.

Just like they'd killed Vlad.

He'd have to do some legwork... Get the Fentons to trust him again, get them to put him down as a guardian for their children. Or at least Danny. Then, then he would expose them. For something they'd done or something they hadn't, it hardly mattered.

He'd have to do some legwork to repair his ghost half's poor first impression on Daniel, come to think of it. It shouldn't be too hard - some explanation about how this was his home and how he had reacted to a strange ghost in it should suffice, given how Phantom was rumored to be possessive and territorial over an entire city.

Yes, yes, that would work... He had a few days to put his plan into action. But first... He shouldn't leave the poor boy on the floor like this. He'd catch a cold.

He reached over and slid his arms around Daniel's shoulders and beneath his knees, picking him up easily. He was far too light, even considering his ghostly nature. Did his parents feed him? No, he thought, sneering, Jack and Maddie wouldn't have the time, with all their oh-so-important research in the way.

Now, which of the guest bedrooms had he put the boy in, anyway?

[seth-whumps]

Any tips for writing the scenes you don't want to write to get to the scenes you do want to write?

Writing When It Sucks: A Quickstart Guide to the Scenes That Hate You Personally

by seth-whumps / sethlost

So, you've got a thousand-word gap between the good scenes, and you've gotta fill it with something. We've all been there—that one sentence in the outline, filling you with irreversible dread—but don’t lose hope. We do have some solutions! I've got three pieces of advice for this situation:

-> Skip The Hard Parts

-> Check Your Variables

-> Change It Up

Long post ahead, folks—you’ve been warned!

Let's start easy, with—

AVOIDANCE

Don't force yourself to write the parts you hate! If it's a scene that's not your thing, just... skip it! If you think it's boring, chances are your readers will feel it, too. If you'd skip it, they'd skip it. Famous authors do this alllllll the time. Don't deny yourself the privilege.

Remember, you don’t have to write chronologically. Write the good parts when you want to write them.

You gotta get to December? Skip to it.

You have a long ass captivity scene you don't want to bore yourself with? Skip it.

Does this scene just inspire you to stop writing forever? SKIP IT.

If it sucks, hit da bricks, as we Tumblrinas say.

Now, I hear you. "But if I do that with every scene that troubles me, I'll have hardly any scenes at all!"

Welcome to writing. It sucks. However, I'll let you in on the best tip I have ever learned from Reddit Dot Com—

CHECK YOUR VARIABLES

Your story, whether big or small, is built from several puzzle pieces! We'll call these your Story Variables. They can include:

Physical:

-> Heroes - your main people!

-> Villains - you’ve gotta have an antagonist somewhere, yknow?

-> Setting/Genre - solarpunk? ancient Arthurian myth? literally just New York City?

-> Locations - home base, headquarters, the villain’s lair, high school, etc

Narrative:

-> Main plot - getting the hero from point A to Z

-> Sideplots - character development, romance, betrayal and redemption arcs

-> Motivations - what do your characters want? what does your setting want?

-> Ending - where is it all going towards?

Audience:

-> Morals/messages - what’s the point of the story? what are you discussing or exploring throughout?

-> Metaphors - what’s the language you’re using to paint a picture?

-> Emotions - and the language you’re using to invoke a feeling?

-> Satisfaction - do you want your audience to feel satisfied? do you not? where and why?

If you're stuck on a scene, you may have an underdeveloped variable, or a missing one altogether. You can fix this by interrogating the absolute hell out of your story. Here's a few questions to get you started:

Do you know your ending? Is this scene guiding you towards it?

What emotions are you trying to portray? Where can you show that in this scene?

Where's your current location? Are you using it as a character in your story?

What drives your heroes? Your villains? How can you make them more obvious?

Are you considering your side plots and character development arcs?

Is this scene contributing to the satisfaction of your story?

You might be saying, "But wait! I'm only writing a little thing! I don't have the time/energy to think about all that!"

That's okay! I hear you. But it's not hopeless. I've still got something to help—

CHANGING IT UP

Hobbyists work in styles. It's hard to develop one, and often it comes from years of practice and study, but there's a way you can streamline it to your advantage. Think of it this way:

-> If you don't like drawing noses, change the way you draw them.

-> If your crocheting tools don't feel right, find ones that suit you.

-> If a chord on the guitar is too difficult, use an alternate fingering.

NEWS FLASH: it's the same for writing.

If something isn't working, you have every ability to do it differently. There's very little right and wrong, here. Don't confine yourself to one generalized "type" of writing--branch out until you find what works for you. Let's start by thinking about what you're struggling on.

Physical movements? Blocking? You might be having trouble visualizing what the scene needs to contain.

Draw the layout of your location. Use random pieces to represent your characters. Play dolls.

Keep it simple. Write exactly what happens, no more and no less.

Another post on Tumblr blew up, advising you to try writing the scene with only dialogue, and adding the actions later.

Emotional weight? Prose? This one's tricky, but I've got some advice regardless.

Change your sentence structure. Focus on the rhythm of the words. Worry less about grammar, and pay attention to the picture, the painting, the music.

Or, in opposition, write it exactly like it is. Come back to prose it up once you've got the scene skeletonized.

What's your moral/metaphor? Thread it throughout. Come back to it often. This'll tie up the story into something cohesive and cinematic.

Organization? The actual, nitty-gritty content of the scene? Think about what the purpose of the scene is, then consider the following.

Start with a bullet point list of everything you want to include. Think of details, interactions, and movements. Spam as many as you can think of, until you've got a substantial list of meat and seasoning you can sprinkle in as necessary.

Check in on your variables. Where does the scene need to end? What's the most convoluted path it could take to get there?

Introduce a new variable. Treat everything like a character in the story. Is the location an old building? Have it collapse. Is the ending too close for comfort? Drive the story in the opposite direction.

Most of all, mess around. Do what comes naturally, and if something isn't working, do it differently until it does. Writing is fun, despite everything about writing--so workshop it until it's fun again.

Whoops! That got very long. I hope this helps at least a bit, and if you've got any questions at all, Anon, feel free to ask! I'm sorry for the wait on this ask, by the way. I wanted to give it justice.

I'd be happy to go more in depth on anything mentioned here. I love talking through my thought processes while writing.

And as a disclaimer, none of what is said here is law. It's just what I've gathered through practice, and through following incredible people. There's no rules! Do what feels right!

Anyway! Thanks for reading, folks. See you in the next one [salutes]

Seth, signing off!

dividers by @/saradika-graphics, link in pinned post

[puppetmaster13u]

Throughout the years, Danny and Ra's get into fights. Unfortunately for Ra's, Danny's a biter. Unfortunately for Danny, biting immortals are never a good idea. Especially when your own DNA is beyond messed up

Imagine the look on Ra's face when they guy he likes fighting shows up with a baby in hand and says, "congratulations, you're a father"

Repeat it two more times because Danny just doesn't learn

Ohohoho, now this is quite fun. And this could be completely new children, or, this could be the three Al Ghul children. Which if it is? Is hilarious. And hey, Dusan even has Danny's white hair and green eyes!

But seriously I love this. Logically, Danny should learn to not bite, in fact? He knows how to fight, and can do so without biting. He's just also a petty little shit who will go feral when fighting this one asshole [insert relationship here].

Even more hilarious if Danny shows up throughout time too. And it's not like they exactly explain to anyone on the outside of their [insert relationship here], which definitely leads to so many misunderstandings and rumors.

Love the idea if this is even a semi-normal ghost thing. Just, usually the mixing of ecto is done on purpose, and not usually having to be worried about happening via blood. But Danny? Is a halfa, meaning that he is half human. And if he bit anyone else, it would probably have no effect, except for the fact that the human mouth carries quite a bit of bacteria and en ecto-contaminated one more so. So for anyone else, biting is an actual good option, but Ras? Also ecto-contaminated via Lazarus Pit.

Which is a different type of ectoplasm, like comparing saltwater to freshwater, but is still ectoplasm. If anyone else bit anyone else, it wouldn't happen. But no, Danny just has to have the habit of biting his immortal sparring asshole of a rival-buddy. And said buddy better be fine with co-parenting otherwise he's taking child support.

[agentpeggycartering]

running your finger down their spine, bucktommy

Thank you for the prompt, dear, and I hope you enjoy!

The last few months— the last year, really— had been rough on everyone, but things were improving. It was good to have everyone together like this again, in a backyard, surrounded by the smell of grilling meat and the sound of laughing children. And there was so much to celebrate, too.

Baby Han was growing more and more each day, and Jee was taking so well to being a big sister. Maddie was doing well, having open and honest conversations with Chimney and her doctors about how she was feeling and it wasn't anything like how she was after Jee-Yun was born.

Mara was officially part of the Wilson family, and the grin had hardly left her face since they left the courthouse after her adoption. The knowledge that she was home and never had to leave again—could never be made to leave again— settling something deep within her, putting to rest a lot of her worries and fears after everything that had happened with Councilwoman Ortiz.

Athena was smiling more often, accepting more dinner invitations. She wasn't her old self again, but no one expected her to be. They just didn't want to lose touch with her, and Buck especially didn't want her to be alone.

And, of course, they were celebrating the newly promoted Captain of the 118.

But the happiest thing, the thing that was the most important, the thing that Buck wanted to shout from the rooftops, was that he and Tommy had sat down and talked about their fears, their pasts and baggage, their expectations for their relationship and the future and had gotten back together. They were on the same page and fully committed to both each other and to doing the work to make their relationship last.

Buck is in the middle of telling Ravi a story when Tommy comes up next to him, crowding in close and resting a hand on his hip. He presses a quick kiss to Buck's cheek in greeting before he presses carefully assembled plate of food into his hand.

"Thanks, babe." Buck says to Tommy with a grin and a kiss to the cheek, before turning back to his conversation with Ravi, now embellishing and emphasizing with his fork. Tommy has to dodge the occasional bit of food when Buck gets too excited in the middle of taking a bite and waves the fork around before it gets to his mouth.

He's a warm, steady presence at Buck's side, interjecting when there's an opportunity but largely letting Buck steer the conversation. Buck is so overjoyed that he gets to have this, Tommy at his side, his family all around him. It's different than it was last year in a lot of ways, but for the first time in a long time he's truly content.

Ravi's drink runs out and Tommy offers to get him a new one, because he also needed a drink and 'do you need anything, Evan?'. Buck does, and he watches as Tommy makes his way across the yard to the coolers, chatting briefly when he's stopped, but he doesn't take too long, pointing over at Buck and Ravi with an apologetic expression on his face. He comes back with bottle of water for himself and beers for Buck and Ravi, opening them before handing them out like the gentleman that he is. Buck gives him a kiss in thanks.

"Thanks man, but I'm not going to kiss you. You're not my type and also I like my ankles the way they are." Ravi says, and Tommy chuckles, laughing even harder when he sees the pout on Buck's face. He kisses the pout away and Buck decides to forgive him, he did bring him food and a beer, after all. Ravi tells them that they're gross, and then asks Tommy to clarify something that Buck had said while he was gone, because he didn't believe that Buck was telling the truth, which, rude!

Tommy obliges, crowding into Buck's side again, but rests his hand at the small of his back instead of his hip. He rubs his thumb up and down while he tells Ravi a story from when he first started at Harbor.

Buck finds that this beer is making him pleasantly buzzed, and he finds himself leaning towards Tommy, just wanting to be close to him. Tommy takes his weight without a word, easily carrying the conversation with Ravi, and runs his fingers up and down his back, right on top of his spine. Buck finds himself going even more boneless and sighs to himself, happy to be here with his family and the man he wants to spend the rest of his life with.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

“Again,” the villain said. Their voice was like honey. “Say it again, please.”

The hero sighed softly. They knew their nemesis was quite dramatic, but this seemed a little too excessive. The hero wouldn’t be surprised if the villain revealed they were recording them just to listen to the hero repeating it over and over again.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” the hero said.

“Hm.” The villain gave them a once-over and put one thigh on the other. They tilted their head.

Honestly, the hero wasn’t in the mood for games, but they were also aware of the villain’s personality. Angering them was a stupid mistake, mocking them wasn’t smart either.

If they wanted the villain’s help — and they needed, undeniably, inevitably their enemy’s help — they needed to play nice. But that didn’t mean the hero was going to submit entirely. It wasn’t in their nature to drop to their knees desperately and beg.

“One more time?” the hero asked. They smiled, as if it was a joke the two of them shared.

“No, that’s enough for now. Sit down.” The villain pointed at the chair on the other side of their desk and the hero followed their command. They couldn’t help but clench their fists, though. “How can I help you, dear?”

“I…” The hero stared at their own hands. Unfortunately, the villain was their only option. How utterly frustrating. “My friend has been missing for two months now. I thought maybe you could-”

“Two months?” The villain leaned back in their chair, raising their eyebrows. “They’re probably dead, then. Is there something else you want from me?”

“Hold on, they’re not dead.” The hero frowned. “They were working on this project and investigated an underground criminal network. I need you…”

They stopped. Just like the hero, the villain didn’t like to be ordered around. The hero understood that perfectly. Understood like no one else how trapped one felt while following commands.

They tried to soften their voice a little.

“I’d like you to find them. Please, you’re my last hope.”

They stared at each other.

“A journalist friend?” the villain asked curiously.

“Yes.”

“Then they’re definitely dead.” Their voice was definite.

“Hey, stop saying that. They’re not dead.” The hero stood up, ready to get into some kind of fight, but they reconsidered. Their heart was beating in their throat, chills ran down their spine. Fighting in the villain’s home wasn’t going to get them closer to the truth. “Please, I…I can pay you. I can work for you, I can…they have a family and I promised to protect them. I’d do anything to get them back, they’re like a sibling to me. Please.”

The villain stared at them, saying nothing.

“Please,” the hero repeated.

“Sit and calm down,” the villain instructed and the hero dropped back into the chair. It didn’t even occur to them that they were in fact, following the villain’s commands without questioning. Finally, the villain stood up and walked around the table. “You’d do anything, you say?”

They twirled a loose strand of the hero’s hair around their index finger. For some reason, the hero’s body couldn’t determine if it was calming down or if it was terrified of the villain.

The hero’s breath hitched when they realised how close the villain was.

“Anything,” the hero said quietly.

“Now that’s quite the stake, hm?” Their index finger touched the hero’s cheekbone and the hero’s heartbeat skyrocketed. The hero didn’t say anything. “What if I want to keep you forever?”

The hero’s eyes widened. They hadn’t thought of that.

Their eyes met the villain’s and their enemy started smirking.

“Ah, I love it when you speak without thinking. It’s adorable to watch you come to terms with the consequences,” the villain purred. Their thumb found the hero’s chin. “You have no idea how adorable you are when that sense of justice takes over you.”

“Please,” the hero said. They closed their eyes, gathered themselves. “I mean it. Keep me if that is what you want. I just need them to be safe in their home.”

The villain’s features hardened a little.

“You really mean that?” Apparently, the villain had joked about keeping the hero. The hero could have bitten off their own tongue, but if that was the only way, the hero was ready.

“I do.”

The villain waited, stared at the hero, reconsidered.

“Fine. I will find them, but in return I want you to stay with me.”

“Deal.” The hero supposed they were a little reckless, but other people had always been their priority.

[kenjakusbraincum]

Heey, I LOVE your writings on soft sukuna, you write so beautifully🩷 please can you do one where he is jealous (fluff)😭🩷

Thank you sm for the kind words!!! Here's my best attempt at doing your idea justice <3

Sukuna has no real reason to be jealous. He practically owns you, controls every aspect of your life, who or what could he possibly be jealous of? Every servant who dared approach you in an inappropriate way would be dealt with swiftly. And you're a good pet, who has eyes for no one other than your master. You really don't give him a reason.

But there's this one thing... Since you've been so good and obedient, Sukuna has allowed you many liberties. You're permitted to skip around the mansion, watch Uraume cook, even enjoy little hobbies. You've tried many before you found that crocheting particularly piqued your interest. Ever since you've learned the basics, you've been spending hours working on perfecting your skills. At first it was cute, watching you squint in concentration as you move the hook. But then the math became really simple - having this hobby to keep you busy meant you approached Sukuna out of boredom a lot less. And he noticed it. It irked him, but you're not technically doing anything wrong. You were still as happy to serve him as ever, he just had to ask. But why would he have to ask? You should be all over him on your own. He should have to push you away, not beg you to give him attention. He didn't like this disturbance in your master and pet balance that this little hobby of yours caused.

He stands at the door now. You're crocheting again. You and your favorite servant laugh at your failed creation so sweetly, you don't even notice he's waiting. He clicks his tongue to establish his presence, and your servant falls to her knees immediately. You however, are not held to that high of a standard anymore.

"Master!", you call him, and hop up to greet him with a deep bow. Before he can say anything, you've picked up the piece of fabric you've been working on and ran into his arms to show him.

He looks at the ugly form and scoffs. "This is what I'm sponsoring?", he says and pulls a loose piece of yarn, making your little creation fall apart. He always was a bully, but you note his bad mood.

"I'm only a beginner...", you sulk.

"That much is obvious.", he flicks the yarn away and it falls onto the floor. Before you can bend to pick it up, he seizes your wrist and pulls you back. "Aren't you a little young to waste time with hobbies for the elderly?", he asks. You look at him with your cutest, practiced doe eyes, but it doesn't work.

"Come, pet. I know an activity more suitable for your age.", he says when you don't respond, and steps out of the room. You hop after him, unaffected by his condescending comments. You know that they're just for show. If he really thought you were a hag, you would've been gone a long time ago.

"Sitting at your throne all day?", you tease innocently and join him at his side, sliding your arm underneath one of his. You hope your playfulness will distract him from whatever is bothering him. "Or in a bath?" His lower set of eyes peeks at you and smirks, noticing that you're feeling particularly daring today. He's not sure how he feels about that. "Or in your bed." He rolls his eyes gently and opens the door to his chambers.

"At least then you'd be serving your purpose and actually spending time with your master.", he comments and shuts the door. His comment catches you a bit off guard and you stop in front of his bed. He makes his way towards you, and you look up at him with an insulted expression.

"Master, are you jealous of a ball of yarn?", you ask playfully, and squeal when he suddenly pushes you down to sit on the bed. Now you're at eye level... with his crotch.

"You've got quite a big mouth today. Put it to good use for a change, will you?", he runs his hand from the crown of your head to the back of your neck. You seem to have struck a nerve, so it really is the ball of yarn. Is it possible that Sukuna is this clingy?

"Will you?", he repeats and tugs on your hair and narrows his eyes. You smile obediently and reach behind him to untie his obi.

"Yes Master."

-

You try your best to manage the time you spend crocheting from then on, working on productivity in the hours that you dedicate to developing this skill. And it helps that you have a specific goal in mind now: helping Sukuna realize that this hobby is a friend, not an enemy. He still catches you engaging in it sometimes, and gives you a dirty look, but you're as quick as ever to drop what you're doing and join him. That seems to satisfy him.

When you're finally happy with the result of your creation, you look for Sukuna around the mansion. It's not really that hard to find him, as he frequents three places most of all: the dining room, his bedroom and his throne room. This time, he's sitting on his throne, and a small line of people wait for their turn to be gifted his attention. You on the other hand, don't have to wait in line to get it. His lower set of eyes spots you the moment you enter the chamber. You're allowed to roam the mansion, but barging in unannounced is not standard even for you.

Still, Sukuna has learned that you usually only feel daring enough to cross boundaries when you're sure he'll like what you have in mind. So for now, he will let this slide. He's bored as hell anyways. The people are dismissed and you pass by them on your way to his throne, nestled on a pile of bones. You stop in front of it and greet him with a bow.

"Master, I come to you with a humble offering.", you say with your hands on your thighs and your eyes fixated on the ground.

"Show me.", he says simply, but you recognize entertainment in his voice. You climb up the bones and feel his stare scan you from head to toe, before you sit on his knee.

"May I ask you to close your eyes?", you ask and flutter your lashes. Oh the way you seduce him. Who else could ask Sukuna to do something as dangerous as close his eyes? Give his opponent valuable time to land an attack. Who else could dare? And who else would he ever listen to and really close his eyes? Really do as he's told? Oh how safe he feels with you.

You take one of his large hands into yours, and gently pry his long fingers away to open his palm. He has beautiful hands. The only ones you've ever known, but you're sure they're the most beautiful hands in the world. So dangerous, so elegant. You want to press a kiss to his palm, but you hope your gift will have the same, maybe even more profound effect.

Something soft touches his skin, and then you speak, as politely as before. "You may look.", in your softest voice. And when he opens his eyes, he finds himself looking at you first. You're an offering on your own.

Then he looks at his hand. Two crocheted plush figures resembling him and yourself lay flat on his palm, connected through their holding hands. At first glance, it looks like they're two separate creations. In a sense, they are, but... He tries to part them.

"We're sewn together.", you explain. He hums in amusement and inspects your gift more closely. His plush is bigger, recognizable by the pink hair and four buttons for eyes. It's even wearing his favorite kimono. Yours is smaller and less detailed. You look like any other human when placed next to him, insignificant. But in a sea of pets, entertainers and lovers he's had in the past, he would never fail to recognize it as you.

He's spent so long looking at it with that face of his that you just can't read. You're starting to grow restless in his lap, and he feels your eyes dwell into his soul. When he looks back at you with one pair of eyes, your brows are furrowed in worry and you're fiddling your hands in your lap. He pats you on the head and pulls you closer, so you have no choice but to lean on his frame.

"It's beautiful, darling.", his fingers run through your hair, scraping your scalp softly. "No loose threads either.", he looks at you with all four eyes now, and you feel so small in his arms. You're not used to receiving this many compliments from Sukuna at once. Not ones that weren't directed at your body or performance. Especially not when he's looking at you so tenderly, when every word sounds so loving and genuine. "You've improved so much.", his hand is on your face now, and you catch him glancing at your lips. You part them to start thanking him, but you already know how much he hates listening to that.

You stay quiet instead, and lean closer, letting him take you. And he kisses you so softly, fingertips light against your heated skin. You feel like you're floating, like a lily pad in a warm pond. The littlest gesture of his affection has you melting in his embrace. The power he has over you... and how wonderful it is to surrender yourself to it.

None of the liberties and privileges you've been awarded with compare to this. You know that many pets have walked these halls before you. Many warmed his bed and claimed the title of his favorite. But how many loved him like this? Enough to dedicate time of their day to making intricate gifts. How many could say Sukuna kissed them lovingly, for no other reason than to show gratitude and affection?

You're flushed completely red by the time his lips leave yours. You can't hold the intensity of his gaze, as he stares at you in adoration. "I'm happ.. I'm glad you l-like it...", you stumble through the words and win a giggle out of him. You are just so cute. Like a pet should be. He rubs your head again and pushes you away lightly.

"Go now, the people await me.", he says with a benevolent smile gracing his face. "I'll see you tonight."

You bow to him and leave.

And when you visit him that night, he is as gentle as he was when he kissed you earlier, still in a good mood after your gift. Caressing your hair, shoulders and back, as you lay comfortably with your head on his chest. Keeping you warm in his embrace. You're trying your best to follow the conversation, but sleep is slowly taking over you. Sukuna notices and plants a kiss to your forehead, wishing you goodnight. The last thing you see before your eyes close, is your handcrafted plushies sitting on his nightstand.