#i added another wip to my pile just for you

[feline-gal]

Robins Red and Classic Colored follow close behind the shadowy form of Batman's new stand-in across Gotham's rooftops, watching him leap from one building to the next, foregoing a grapnel altogether, and occasionally crawl across walls like an oversized lizard.

The thing about this particular substitute is that he's a ghost, one of a few that had made their way into the Justice League's orbit a couple years ago, after the discovery and subsequent dismantling of a governmental ghost hunting conspiracy.

He typically goes by the alias 'Phasmagore'. His real name is unknown. A lot about him is unknown. Neither he nor his two presumed kin, Phantom and Phantasm, have volunteered much information about themselves or eachother, all three generally keeping to themselves.

Despite the elusiveness, they've lended plenty of helping hands to various heroes, enough to apparently prove themselves worthy to Bruce that, when the man got the shit kicked out of him bad enough to need a month's worth of healing - while Dick is off on interstellar honeymoon with Kori, and Cass is on a long mission on the other side of the planet - he accepted the eldest Ghost's offer to fill in the cowl for him.

That's all there and then, though; in the here and now, a gunshot rings out just past the building the trio is running across, shortly followed by another, and another. Seems the gang fight has started without them.

Time for the new guy to make his debut.

As Phasmagore reaches the edge of the building's roof, he pulls out two handfuls of Batarangs from his belt and recklessly flings them down into the crowd of skirmishing hoodlums. Most of them embed into random spots on the ground, startling a good few gangsters, a few impact their weapons and knock them either out of their hands or off-kilter, one lodges itself into the shoulder of a particularly unlucky guy.

Both groups pause in their violent actions to look up toward the source of the weapons, just in time for the mid-jump replacement to flare out the shadow-tendrily mass of his cape into a ragged yet still recognizably iconic bat shape.

Phasmagore hits the ground with a loud and solid thump, cape settling over and around him like a thousand-armed starfish, then he begins rising to his feet slowly and dramatically.

The gangsters watch on silently, taking in the latest costume design, wondering to themselves if the Bat has always been that tall, if they're imagining the subtle grey-green tinge to his pasty skin, visibly put off by his predatory posture and the general eeriness he seems to be exuding.

There's always been some low-key cryptid vibes to the Batman, Phasmagore is simply leaning into that with his ghostly nature.

“This ends now.” Phasmagore speaks up in a voice not too dissimilar from the real Batman's, but with a slight edge of something off and unnatural that raises the lowlifes' hackles a bit more “All of you pack it up and go home. No-one else has to get hurt.” the statement is firm as a boulder, leaving no room for argument.

The assorted ne'er-do-wells glance between eachother and the replacement Bat for a second “..Fuck that.” one argues intelligently, then fires their gun at Phasmagore's head.

He dodges the bullet with speed just short of preternatural while grabbing a Batarang from his belt, flinging it at the shooter's gun. It glances off their hand instead, slicing open the skin, which does cause them to drop the weapon with a pained yelp.

Both sets of gangsters take offense to this act of self-defense and break right back out in senseless violence, attacking the Bat just as much as eachother.

The two Robins decide now's as good a time as any to jump in, descending upon the raging hoodlums with katana and bō staff.

Through the chaos of the battle, Red Robin does his best to keep an eye on Phasmagore, watching his movements as he beats down on the thugs.

He's brutal. An almost animalistic savagery to his attacks. But also an unrefined caution.

It reminds Tim a bit of when he'd first joined Bruce on his crusade against crime, when the man was just starting to crawl back up from the lowest point he'd reached, starting to pull his punches and calculate his strikes again, starting to care about the people under the themed ski masks again.

The reckless lack of defense, barely enough to not let on his ghostly nature, seems to be simply him knowing he can't actually be hurt by simple human means, rather than from little-to-negative concern for his own health.

It's clear Phasmagore has been fighting for a long time, though it seems most of his experience is with things that can take a super-strong punch, like other ghosts, and doesn't have much in the way of formal training, which can have the advantage of making him less predictable to more experienced opponents, but altogether means he's not as efficient at incapacitation as he could be.

One by one the thugs fall to the ground, bruised, bloody, unconscious and, in several cases, restrained, until only the two birds and one fake bat are left standing, the former a little banged up and the latter completely unscathed.

The wailing of sirens and flashing of red-&-blue lights signals the ever so timely arrival of the GCPD and the trio promptly makes themselves scarce, respectively grappling and parkouring their ways up a building to where they can watch from the shadows to make sure the cops don't try anything.

“I think that went well.” Phasmagore comments, using his normal non-scary voice now that he's in more polite company, when the various police vehicles start driving away with the collected criminals.

Red Robin scoffs “You would.” he grumbles half under his breath.

One of the 'ears' of Phasmagore's cowl twitches in his direction as if it were an actual ear(which, considering the whole costume is the result of shapeshifting, is probably true) and he turns to face the younger vigilante, conveying a furrowed brow through the shape of his whited-out eyes “You got a problem?” he asks.

“Several, actually.” Red Robin replies, then proceeds to list off the problems in question, going off about practically every bone unnecessarily broken, the inflicted concussions and potential consequences thereof, the Batarangs stabbed into people..

Classic Colored Robin blinks in surprise at his predecessor, taken aback by the harsh criticism he's laying into the replacement, Damian was expecting himself to be the one casting all the judgment, yet here Tim is doing the work in his place.

Phasmagore seems similarly stupefied by the behavior, albeit for different reasons, occasionally flicking his wide eyes toward the youngest vigilante. Robin simply nods and points at his brother, indicating that he is correct and should be listened to.

The ghost narrows his eyes unappreciatively, then seem to catch sight of something off to the side and raises a hand to halt Red Robin's tirade “Gonna have to put a pin in that,” he says, pointing in the direction he's now looking “The Signal's on.”

Red Robin follows the pointing finger, sees the Bat Signal shining against Gotham's ever-present cloud cover, and lets out another scoff “How convenient.” he snips.

Phasmagore locks eyes with the younger vigilante “I will work on it.” he assures seriously, then turns and begins briskly marching off.

Robin trails after the ghost, throwing a raised eyebrow over his shoulder at his brother, who simply glares at the back of said ghost for a second before following suit.

“Fucking better.” he hisses under his breath.

With a wing-like flap of his cape, Phasmagore launches himself from one rooftop to the next, the Robins grappling right behind.

Standard “Danny or Dan Takes Up The Batman Cowl” for a temporary position as Bruce heals and Nightwing is offworld.

The person most wary to this change is Red Robin. He’s experienced a good Batman candidate disgrace the title and go against everything they stand for when Jean Paul Valley claimed the mantle during Bruce’s spine recovery. He refuses for it to get that bad ever again.

(Danny or Dan) don’t know why Red Robin is so cold and hostile towards him but he is determined to win the vigilante over out of spite and determination.

[wwooyology]

#WIP : The Nanny Diaries | J.WY

「pairing」 : wooyoung x fem!reader 「word count」 : TBD

「synopsis」 : after being let off yet another part-time job, you were sent into a panic as your mother's hospital bills started to pile up. you had no help from your family, seeing as they saw you and your mother as insignificant, so you and your mother only had yourselves to rely on. seeing your desperation, your best friend tells you about a nanny position for a well-known CEO, and you are quick to apply. however, you had not expected the world of chaos you had just thrown yourself into or how you would fall for the little girl's dad so quick.

「genre」 : romance, fluff, angst, small amount of crack, drama, smut, age gap, ceo!wooyoung, dilf!wooyoung, nanny!reader

「warnings」 : MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!, cussing, readers mom has cancer, familial trauma, mental breakdowns, arguments, mentions of death, death, grief, wooyoung is both a tease and mildly closed off, age gap (8 years), reader is depicted to be twenty-two, bullying, violence, betrayal, multiple unprotected sex scenes, dilf wooyoung (yes this deserves its own warning), sir kink, kissing, blackmailing, child endangerment, (will add more as I write)

「also starring」 : choi san as wooyoung's best friend who also runs a well known company, giselle and natty as your childhood best friends, kang yeosang as wooyoung's childhood friend who teaches yoonha's class, huh yunjin as the girl who is concerningly obsessed with wooyoung and also a huge pain in your ass.

「notes」 : hello everyone!! I have had this idea in my head for a LONG time now and as I was working on the outline I realized that this wasn't going to be a smaller fic - so I have decided that I am going to make a wip post for the reason that it's going to be pretty long and has a lot of plot to it. I hope everyone will enjoy this as much as I enjoyed and will enjoy writing it, thank you all!! <3

spoilers ➻ one | two | three

「release date」 : TBD

「current word count」 : 18.3k

「taglist」 : OPEN

➻ please send an ask or reply to this post if you would like to be added to the taglist after this fic is finished. 18+ ONLY, you must have your age visible on your blog. any blank blogs and MINORS will NOT be added!!! also, if you are on my perm. taglist, you will automatically be added to the taglist, so you do NOT have to ask to be added!! <33

also please double-check your blog settings!! with certain settings, I will NOT be able to tag you, so please make sure you check that before asking to be added!

additionally, I will be ignoring and deleting any comments and/or asks from blank and/or ageless blogs asking to be added to the taglist!

@wwooyology | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

[rauferes]

WIP Wednesday

Oh wow, and it's actually Wednesday, wild. Today's snippet of As Mountains Yet Unseen features a totally normal amount of ritual. Suuuuuper normal non-intricate rituals. Yep.

***

“You have a knack for getting injuries that are the worst sort to heal, I’m afraid,” Emmrich said sympathetically. “If I were to patch you up fully today, the pain would be monstrous. I can split the healing sessions over the course of a week, which will make the process far more tolerable.”

Isolde considered. If it would take him a whole week, then undoubtedly her leg would still hurt quite a lot for the first day or two of healing, while it was still barely healed. And if they needed her for any missions in the interim…

“Today,” Isolde said tersely.

“I thought you might say that,” Emmrich said, resigned. “I can give you painkillers to take away the worst of it, but I’m afraid that it’ll have to be a dose where some of the pain still bleeds through. Otherwise, you may inadvertently overuse the leg while it’s on the mend, and damage it further.”

“Thank you,” Isolde said.

“I swear, you thank me for the most barbarous and miserable excuses of medicine this world has seen,” Emmrich muttered under his breath as he departed.

Isolde elected not to comment.

Emmrich returned with two glasses and two bottles, a tiny one of deep blue glass, and a substantial one of translucent green that was corked so firmly that it took a minute of wriggling for Emmrich to pull it free. He poured out a portion of thick, white liquid into a glass, and then raised it to the light, considering the contents. This was laid to the side, and he picked up the blue bottle, tipping out a small portion of dark powder onto his handkerchief. He spread the medicine into a careful shape. He looked back at her then, his assessing gaze drifting slowly down her body as he considered something.

The tips of Isolde’s ears warmed at intensity of his attention. If he looked her in the eyes now, she knew there would be no hiding her blush.

Emmrich didn’t look. He nodded to himself, painstakingly tapping out another tiny measure of powder. He then tipped it unceremoniously into the glass, and added water to the mixture, stirring thoroughly. The powder swirled, and the liquid took on a disconcerting black tinge.

“As always, not a pleasant tasting concoction,” Emmrich warned her as he handed her the glass.

Isolde downed it quickly. The foully bitter taste made her mouth twist, despite herself.

Emmrich passed her a glass of plain water to chase it down. She drank it gladly.

“We’ll need to give that at least twenty minutes to begin working before I can get started,” Emmrich said. “Do you want me to fetch anything for you? You’ll need to be off your feet as much as possible for at least six hours, if not twelve.”

Isolde hesitated.

“Please, tell me,” Emmrich prompted her.

“A bowl of water and a towel?” Isolde asked hesitantly. “I’d like to get the worst of the battle off of me.”

“Of course.”

Isolde unbuckled her armor, slowly piling it next to her on the marble slab. She was glumly contemplating her greaves when Emmrich reappeared. He set the bowl next to Isolde’s thigh, dampened a cloth, and reached for her.

Isolde startled.

“My hands still work fine,” she said, embarrassed.

“Yes, of course,” Emmrich agreed, but didn’t take the hint. There was a faint smile on his face as he cleaned the dirt off her burning cheeks.

The water was warm—pleasant, compared to the cold and efficient methods of cleaning Isolde used on herself.

Well. She’d tried to dissuade him. Since he continued even after that, perhaps it would be okay to just… let it happen? It was just another facet of his fastidiousness, she supposed.

Emmrich’s face was only a foot from hers. Her eyes skittered away, her blush worsening.

He was thorough-- unexpectedly so. He moved as if he had all the time in the world. His attention lingered on her hands, the motion of the washcloth seeming to slow as he carefully cleaned each of her fingers in turn.

Isolde’s head was buzzing. Dizzily, she listed to the side. Emmich caught her, letting out a surprised sound.

“That’d be the Laitue Vireuse,” he said. “Curious, it’s rather soon for that to have kicked in… can you feel this?”

He laid careful fingers against the very edge of Isolde’s wound.

“Nothing,” Isolde said.

“And now?” Emmrich asked, pressing down slightly.

He hadn’t moved his arm from around her, still keeping her propped up. It was difficult to keep her attention in the right place.

“Not much,” Isolde said.

“Less than half as much as you would expect to feel, yes?” Emmrich clarified.

“Oh, yeah. Definitely.”

He smelled like jasmine and fresh wood, with a hint of something she couldn’t place. It tickled her nose. He’d changed his cologne, Isolde thought dizzily. If she buried her face in his coat, would it smell of every scent he’d ever worn?

Emmrich guided her gently to lie back on the marble slab. “Well. The painkiller is active enough for me to begin the healing process. Are you ready, my dear?”

[deadly-diminuendo]

WIP Whenever

Thank you so much @strixamans and @amoremagnificentbastard for the tags! 💖

I have another piece of A Fitting Reunion Chapter 2 to share! For a bit of context, Tav is going through some of his design sketches. It's a bit long, so part of it is under the cut:

It eases you, this repetitive motion, this comforting quiet, this sweet glimpse into the life of the one you love. Until you see it. Until your fingers tighten against the paper. Until you freeze. Not because of the clothing, but because of the model. The shape of her figure. The shade of her skin. The style of her hair. The familiarity of her face. It’s you. He drew you. Like you are his muse. Like he could not help but to think of you. Like he is as in love with you as you are with him.

No, you try to tell yourself, this must be some coincidence. And even if it isn’t a coincidence—and really you should just admit to yourself that this cannot be a coincidence—it cannot mean what you want it to mean, right? Maybe it is just because you are his friend. A real person he can easily visualize in his mind’s eye. Yes, that must be all this is. Yes, of course. You quickly flip through the remaining pages. There is no Karlach, no Gale, no Shadowheart, no Wyll, no Lae’zel, no Halsin, no Jaheira, no Minsc—not that any of them got to know Astarion as well as you did, though. All you find are faceless figures, generic and unremarkable. Until, oh, there you are again. Oh, and once more. And again. And, by the gods, again. “Did something catch your eye, darling?” Astarion asks, lips curled into a smirk, looking and sounding every bit like the cat that got the cream. You pull that first sketch of you out of the pile and set the rest down, holding it in the air for him to see. “Is this me?” “Ah, come to think of it, I did have you in mind when dreaming up that particular outfit, yes.” He shrugs, and the nonchalance of it all vexes you. “And not only this one?” “Not only that one, no. I do think of you often, you know.” No. You don’t know. But maybe you are beginning to know. Beginning to let hope blossom in your heart, brave and beautiful and boundless. He pauses his work, stares at you a moment, meets you eye to eye—and, gods, you feel like you are connecting heart to heart. Soul to soul. He speaks again, eventually, shifting back to a less serious, light-hearted tone. A retreat into his own comfort zone. “What more can I say? I like to imagine you in my clothes, darling.” And out of them, you can almost hear him say. Honestly you could go for a little body to body as well, but you know not to push him. Hells, you are not even a couple. You never will be, says a different voice. An unwelcome voice. Your own voice, ever cruel and destructive. But maybe that voice of yours is wrong. Maybe it isn’t never. Maybe it is just not right now. And you can live with not right now. “Actually,” Astarion continues, “I’m not sure imagination is enough anymore.”

Chapter 2 is super close to being done - and, no guarantees, but my goal is to have it up by this time tomorrow! I'm really happy with how things are going, and I really hope I can share it all with you soon!

No pressure tags (and adding a few new writing mutuals here, so I hope you don't mind!): @preciouslittlebhaalbae @xxnashiraxx @nerdallwritey @obsessedwhyyes @goodgirlgonebard @vividiana @bardic-inspo @honeybee-bard @pinkberrytea + anyone else who sees this who has something they would like to share! 💖

[ragnarokhound]

Hey hun are you ready for our date tonight?

Anyways not to #wifepost twice in one day, but you could definitely write a filthy little dirty story about jason digging a bullet out of tim but it’s like a sex thing. Lots of potential for dirty dirty sex (I’m the only one allowed to leave marks on you)

Oh my god, babe!! Let me throw together a fit, this is such a nice surprise~ 😘

And twice in one day? 😳you're spoiling me, omg

Anyone who's read my 15k teen wolf fic or my soulmates!au for jaytim week this year should already know that I am a sucker for 'bullied into the bathroom and gruffly taken care of' so this scenario activates all of my symptoms at once

I could definitely write a filthy little dirty story that's just one scene i prommy it'll just be the one scene because that's all you need right

Jason busting down the door of a safehouse with Tim in hand, Tim hissing while also trying to lie to Jason that he's fine, it's just a graze--

"Bullshit," Jason snarls at him. Bullshit it was a graze. The blood on Jason's gloves says otherwise.

(AAAND I'M NOT ACTUALLY GOING TO WRITE IT TODAY BECAUSE I DO HAVE WIPS I NEED TO FINISH IN A TIMELY FASHION, BUT THANKS FOR ADDING ANOTHER ONE TO THE PILE, LOVE)

But for reference, things this ought to feature:

Tim making whimpering, bitten off and breathy moaning noises that are all rooted in pain

Jason getting angry because those noises aren't for him, not really, it's someone else's bullet lodged in Tim--

Jason getting angry because he shouldn't be thinking like that, Tim's hurt and Jason needs to take care of him, but he also needs to stop looking at Jason like that, with low, hooded eyes and tears leaking out of the corners to streak past his red, panting mouth--

Jason so afraid because Tim's eyes are fluttering closed, stay awake babybird, stay awake baby, please--

Tim waking up with Jason curled around him, a possessive hand on his neck, a protective hand on his bandages, and wishing in the privacy of his own mind that at least one of the bruises throbbing under his skin had been given to him by Jason instead

[dollfaced-erin]

Ngl the sugar daddy jing yuan reader fic lowkey intrigues me, like why did Jing Yuan resort to something as finding a sugar baby? Was he stressed over something as well? A relationship problem? Was he that lonely?? I feel it would be nice to explore!

i love this request. it took me a while to find the right songs and good scenarios, but i got you covered, bby ! I MIGHT NAME THIS SERIES THO ! it's a WIP obv unless until i finish the main storyline and will take longer time to accommodate to unlike the main story (and that one already takes an eternity) do enjoy the treat !

Taglist : -

@rebeccawinters , @nayukiyukihira , @pix-stuff , @fluffy-koalala , @swivy123 , @starxao , @kaoyamamegami , @kimura-uzuri , @rsvye , @seikouryuu , @just-here-reading , @matsulovesyou, @sincerely-aaronette , @prettyliliy , @chibiduck , @hermosacolibri , @la-diablas-thingz , @farelady-fate , @everi-eve , @shadowfoxey , @helloyuki , @immahuman , @samptlay , @boomie-123 , @airentia , @eden-absorbed

𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 𝖙𝖔 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊 ! : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴀ ᴍᴏᴅᴇʀɴ ᴀᴜ , ᴊɪɴɢ ʏᴜᴀɴ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ , ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏʀʀᴇʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏʀɪɢɪɴᴀʟ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅʀᴀɢᴏɴ'ꜱ ᴄʀᴀᴅʟᴇ

𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖗 𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌 ! :

ˢᵗʳᵉˢˢ , ᵃⁿˣⁱᵉᵗʸ , ᵐᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵒᶠ ˢᵉˡᶠ ʰᵃʳᵐ , ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗ ᵃⁿᵍˢᵗ, EXTRA LONG.

Another day...another report.

Scratch that. There were hundreds of reports on his desk as is. And they were piling as time grew on. Not like it would ever stop. They just kept adding up, accumulating like the spam emails in his iMac monitor before him.

And his secretary was of no help either. Sure, she did her work mighty fine ! Being on time, punctual, taking all the calls and planning his meeting and fixing up his schedule. But that makes him feel more annoyed than ever.

She's just too punctual. And she expects him to be like that too.

She was always rushing him to do his work, always nagging him on and on to pay attention to the business proposals, to look over the reports, remind him again and again that he had lunch with the Lead Researcher from that growing Space Research Centre built under the name of one of the most well-known geniuses known to mankind.

Herta's Space Research Centre...and her Lead Researcher who was currently managing the Centre on her own... Asta...

What time was the meeting again...?

"Remember ! You have a meeting with Lady Asta from the research center at 2pm this afternoon ! Don't be late ! It's a crucial investment !" He heard Fu Xuan's voice ring in his mind.

Oh...2pm. He had time before that.

He sighed in his chair, leaning back into his leather chair as he ran a hand through his messy silver hair. Lazy golden eyes glanced at the time showed on the standby mode on his monitor...

"1 : 45..." he read aloud, his voice carrying his lazy tone through the silent room.

He thought about it.

1 : 45 ?!?!

He never bolted out of his seat faster than he ever had before.

"Hahaha !" The man laughed as Jing Yuan retold the tale of the earlier day. A hand landed on his back, slapping it playfully as his friend found humor in his troubles.

"Don't laugh, asshole." Jing Yuan said, a frown of frustration on his lips. But it slowly curled up into one of amusement seeing his friend like this.

"You're really finding my concerns entertaining, don't you ?"

"Sorry, sorry. My bad." The man said, raising his cup of alcoholic beverage to his lips, sipping it elegantly.

"But then, what happened ? You rushed out of your building to the meeting place. Did you see Lady Asta ?" Blade asked, looking at his friend with a smirk on his lips.

"Oh, you bet. I found her as soon as I got there. But fortunately for me, she had just arrived herself. So, I wasn't too late, nor did I make her wait." Jing Yuan said with a relieved sigh.

The two were meeting up in quite the high-class bar. Somewhere that had classical music playing, dim lighting, expensive drinks of the finest quality, quiet chatter and the clinking of glasses and extravagant attire. It wasn't your average bar. Heck, there were barely any ruthless drunkards in places like this, those who caused ruckus when they drank too much.

"But Fu Xuan, that girl..." he pondered, shaking his head at the mention of his secretary. "She really needs to learn how to loosen up and stop asking me day after day when will I hand my company over to her."

"Oh ? She's blatantly asking you to make her the heir to the corporation ? Very...brazen, of her." Blade said with a furrow of his brows and nodded his head.

"It doesn't get any easier, Blade. Believe me." Jing Yuan sighed.

It was just another day in his life. He was the CEO of one of the top companies in the country, or even the world ! The Xianzhou Alliance was branched into 6 franchises under one brand, though usually known individually. Fanghu, Luofu, Zhuming, Xuling, Yaoqing, and Yuque.

And Jing Yuan just happened to be the CEO of the Luofu branch, also being the youngest and one of longest reigning ones at that. Not only that, he was known for his good looks, his intellect and gentlemanly manners.

Blade just happened to be his friend from college and was the main mechanical engineers for the bigger productions of the company, building his name to be known far and wide for a man as young as him. He was known as Yingxing, formerly. A nerdy young man that loved art.

But after a certain incident, he dyed his hair black and changed his alias to Blade before joining a group of debt collectors that made quite the name for themselves.

The Stellaron Hunters.

Jing Yuan sighed, raising a hand at the bartender for another glass of bourbon. He needed a little more liquor to forget the tension that night.

"So, of course the meeting didn't end there, right ? I heard that Herta was planning on opening a university to give opportunities to more...brilliant minds. Perhaps they wanted to collaborate with the Intelligentsia Guild ? Heard they too opened up a new university recently." Blade asked, pouring another glass of Koshu sake for himself.

He wasn't too much of a fan of the harder liquors. He loved to savor his drinks and take his time relishing in the bitter taste. Like the little things around him. He loved to watch drama unfold, especially if he wasn't involved in it.

Even better if he was the cause behind it.

But he wouldn't do that to Jing Yuan. His dude needed a break. Especially since they have known each other for a couple of years now.

"Yeah." Jing Yuan said, nodding his head at his friend. "I suppose you could put it that way. Lady Asta wanted to meet up to ask about the funding for the research in the space station. Now that you mention it, I think she also said something about investing for the university ?"

"I don't know anymore, Blade..." Jing Yuan sighed, hand over his eyes. "After that meeting i came back to more papers and reports. Then tomorrow, the meetings and the negotiations...the business proposals, photoshoots and interviews and not to mention the stalkers recently. Fu Xuan is literally gonna snag my ass one day if she really thinks I'm as incompetent as I look, I swear to the Aeons..."

He let out a tired chuckle, leaning over and setting his elbow on the table. His friend looked at him worriedly, knowing that it might not sound like much, but for Jing Yuan to openly admit his problems like this...

"Why don't you ask her to loosen up your schedule ?" Blade asked him softly, a hand on Jing Yuan's back.

"And listen to her lecture me about time management ? I'd save at the very least 2 hours of my time reading reports." He chuckled dryly, shaking his head and pulled his hand away from his eyes.

"That's not gonna work, Blade. She'll say I have nothing better to do in my time anyway...I go home with those uncompleted documents but I still have to keep thinking how I'm going to arrange my thoughts for tomorrow."

Then they heard a small commotion. There was a man slamming his hand onto the table, and a young lady before him. She looked firm and resolute, not even flinching as the man before her expressed his distaste and anger to her.

"For the last time, I'm saying no. I told you, I don't have the money for it !" The young lady said calmly, her hands spread in front of her to exaggerate her point.

"You brought me here, and then expect me to sign up for Herta's Space Research school to study biotechnology under Madam Ruan Mei ? Do you have any idea how crazy the fees will be ?" The girl asked again, folding her arms over her chest as she merely glared at the man that stood in anger before her.

"Plus you know that I'm already struggling with fees in the Yaoqing Academy is already crazy enough. And that's with scholarship. I'd then have to pay Yaoqing for stopping halfway and my scholarship, then pay the registration fees of Herta's school."

"Imagine having to go to some prestigious, preppy place filled with studying, that I don't even have time to go work to buy myself dinner." The lady stressed with a shake of her head.

"But this is your opportunity !"

"I...I cant afford it..." she admitted softly.

Jing Yuan's gaze softened as he looked at this troubled lady. He wished he could help, watching her being pressured like this. But he wasn't a charity... if he helped her, many more would come to him for the same reason...

But it was a waste that a beautiful young lady like her didn't get the opportunity she deserved. She looked like she was well-versed in studying, and going to Herta's university would secure her a bright future working with the Intelligentsia Guild, or Herta's Space Station or the research facility, or even the IPC !

"I cant keep dating someone who doesn't have standards, (Y/n). My family will look down on me ! And I'm always paying for you when we go on dates, you never spend for me !" The man said with anger present in his tone. Then the young lady before him bit her bottom lip, her eyes trailing off somewhere else.

"Wh-what did you expect from dating me ? You know I'm poor. I work part time at a cafe, juggling assignments, bills and chores. I...I cant always have the luxury of spoiling you ! And you yourself wanted to go on dates, promising me that you'll handle the bill." The lady said, tears in her bright eyes.

"Or not you'll never go on dates with me !" The boyfriend exclaimed, making the girl, (Y/n), feel even guiltier.

Then he slammed his hand again on the table. "Enough ! We're over. I cant keep dating a leech who'd do nothing to improve her life even when there's a path !"

Then the man stormed off, leaving the lady alone and humiliated in the middle of the expensive bar with all eyes on her. She didn't care about that, she was mainly troubled on the fact that she'd have to cover the bills herself...

'How interesting...' Jing Yuan thought to himself as he looked at the pitiful lover.

She was a beautiful young lady, perhaps around 22 years old ? She seemed pretty young. Perhaps she's in the middle of pursuing a degree ? To change majors means she must be pretty early into the registration. Foundation, perhaps...

She looked very ordinary, unlike the others in this bar. She had beautiful (h/c) hair, the brightest (e/c) eyes that shone under the warm lights of the bar. But she looked tired. She was broke. Wallet, and heart.

Jing Yuan couldn't hold back anymore. He didn't like seeing a young woman as innocent as hardworking as her getting dumped just because she didn't have the money. What kind of asshole does that, anyway ?!

Jing Yuan got up from his place, ignoring Blade's voice of questions as he walked over to the young woman who sat alone.

"(Y/n), right ?" Jing Yuan asked, and she looked up, those bright (e/c) eyes, glistening with tears as she sadly looked into his warm honey eyes.

(Y/n) seemed startled and quickly wiped her eyes. "Yes, th-that's me." She said, nodding her head.

"See, I don't do this often, but..." Jing Yuan started as he sat before her. "I'm quite certain the entire establishment heard what happened between you and...well...your...ex lover...?"

He grimaced a little at the word 'ex', knowing it must still be a touchy subject for her. But she didn't seem to mind and just nodded her head.

"Yeah, I saw this coming, obviously." (Y/n) said with a light chuckle. "I knew we weren't going to work out. But he was persistent, constantly egging me on and on to date him, that one day I just said yes."

"Well, it seems like you're going through a rough patch, and I know you just want to head home and sleep it off. So, I want to help you out." Jing Yuan said, taking the bill on the table and reading out the receipt list.

"Let me pay for tonight."

(Y/n)'s eyes widened as she looked at him, blinking owlishly as she heard his offer. This...this random man was willing to pay for the receipt ? The orders she didn't even indulge in ? She felt guilt eating away at her stomach, making her fidget in her seat.

But what choice did she have...?

That's right. She didn't.

So she nodded her head.

"Wow, didn't know you could be quite the gentleman, oh CEO Jing Yuan." Blade said as his friend came back after seeing off the woman named (Y/n).

Jing Yuan nodded his head, feeling a light blush dust his cheeks from the teasing manner of his friend. But he brushed it aside quickly, composing himself to wish away the blush as quickly as it came.

"I just couldn't leave her there. It would be quite...distasteful." Jing Yuan said, taking his seat back next to Blade.

"Mm...but she was quite the catch, wasn't she ? Too bad she ended up with a sorry excuse as a boyfriend as him." Blade said with a laugh, his Adam's apple bobbing as his voice rumbled.

"She was indeed beautiful, yes." Jing Yuan said softly, nodding his head as he reminded himself of the young woman. "It was funny how she didn't even recognize who I am. Most young women would."

He caught Blade smirking at him at which he quickly composed himself with a fake smug smile back on his lips.

"Anyway..." Jing Yuan said, looking at Blade with raised eyebrows. "How are things with you and...Dan Jia ?"

Blade immediately was caught off guard with the question, his pale face dusted with a red blush that went all the way up to his ears. Dan Jia was one of the heirs to a multi-billion organization that was partnered with the Xianzhou Alliance, more known towards their love of arts and entertainment.

And Dan Jia was the woman that had loved him before and after his change. The only person who understood and still stood by him no matter, and it wasn't like any one could oppose her, anyway.

"A-ahem...Dan Jia and I..." Blade stuttered, turning away for a moment as he slowly sipped at his drink.

"We...got engaged." The male said and Jing Yuan glared at him.

"And you didn't even tell me ?" "I was going to when you were in a more chill mood ! Don't blame me trying to be considerate of your feelings !"

Then Blade got an idea. He smiled widely, looking at his friend before uncharacteristically clapping his hands, something he did when he had a mind-blowing revolutionary thought. Usually it meant good news for the company, or friends, so Jing Yuan was very intrigued to hear.

"How about you find a lover ?" Blade asked with a pat on Jing Yuan's back.

Jing Yuan had never heard a solution so stupid from this former engineer before. He sighed, and slapped a hand onto his forehead.

"No no, hear me out for real here." Blade said, trying to pull back Jing Yuan's interest. "If Fu Xuan says that you have nothing to do in your free time, find someone that can act as something to fill in time you need. You cant put hobbies, because hobbies are meant to be something to be done in your free time."

"But what if you had a commitment ?"

Then Jing Yuan looked at Blade like he made the best idea ever. That actually made so much sense ! But...

"What if I get even more stressed from it ?" Jing Yuan asked, looking at Blade.

"Based on the trends right now, students are more frequently found on dating sites, and you could start from there. Give Fu Xuan some reasons to throw her off the scent and make sure she doesn't schedule every second you manage to breathe in the aircon of your private office." Blade explained again, his hands making and tracing gestures onto the surface of the bar top.

'Students, huh...? Perhaps...he might even...' Jing Yuan wondered.

"You mean, be a sugar daddy ?" Jing Yuan asked with a raise of his eyebrow, and his friend laughed.

"Not necessarily." Blade said. "Give it a feel, take on a few blind dates. You have nothing to lose. If it doesn't work out, tell it straight, then proceed to leave."

"You know how happy I am with Dan Jia. Perhaps it's also time for you to find someone too, Jing Yuan."

So he followed the advice of his friend. Blade was right, he didn't have much to lose if he played his cards right and used his professionalism right.

He downloaded the dating app. And to make things look a little easier to filter the horny, money-hungry women who never left a shred of decency on their profiles, he put on the status of 'CEO. In need of a sugar baby, willing to spend time with me.'

He kept swiping left, left and left. The ones he swiped right on were also just as unsavory, so he kept searching. Until he saw this one account he felt drawn to.

And swiped right.

After a bit of talking, they decided to meet up at a student friendly cafe as to not pressure her. He was feeling quite peppy about it, a light blush of happiness on his cheeks as his feet tapped impatiently on the wooden floors of the cozy cafe.

He made sure to dress casually, a mere dark grey sweater and a pair of white slacks. His hair was still in it's usual messy style, but he tried to make himself look a little presentable, tying it up into a ponytail. It was still messy, but he tried.

He was meeting up with a young lady who was a student in need of help for her tuition loans and apartment bills she couldn't handle on her own. But though she reached out to him, she was often times hesitant to find a 'sugar daddy'.

His heart was pounding in his chest. He never felt this excited before. It had been long since they started talking and she was finally comfortable with meeting him after so many times of denying.

Then he saw her. The girl he was waiting for, shyly enter the cafe with reddened cheeks as she tucked back her (h/c) hair that fell over her face from lowering her gaze so much.

"M-Mr. Jing Yuan..." She greeted as she pulled the seat before him.

"Miss (Y/n). What a pleasure."

He had been searching for her all this while, and he finally found her.

[x-lee-cya]

listen this is a cringe ass idea but hey, i AM cringe but i am also free :3

(still putting said idea under the cut bc i Am, In Fact, A Coward)

okay so basically the fuckin’ deadpool movies’re just. completely chock full of 4th walk breaks (/vvvvpos), so what. what if we took it one step further, n made the characters from the dp movies react TO the dp movies. like. you CANNOT tell me the dp movies/franchise is not the perfect series to make reactfics for - hell, w how many times wade refs an “audience” (us) in the actual goddamn movies themselves, esp to other characters, it’d be a GOLDMINE

they’d all be taken from different times, aswell, bc ANGST. here’s what im thinkin’:

colossus’d be from pre-dp 1

ntw & yukio from pre-dp 2 (but post-dp 1)

vanessa (post-meeting wade pre-cancer diagnosis), blind al, dopinder, weasel (post-meeting wade pre-cancer diagnosis), etc etc wld ALL be from pre-dp 1, same as colossus

n hey, if u wanna torture yourself, maybe add the other x-men aswell (charles, storm, etc etc). yk, for the added angst. :) all of them’d prolly be from pre-dp 1, aswell.

n wade & logan’d be from post-dp 3/d&w bc the trope of “angst of one character knowing what’s gonna happen n no one else knowing wtf got’s them so tense n lowkey on the verge of a panic attack freaks THEM out aswell bc what the fuck happens/has happened to them to make them this nervous at the prospect of other people knowing???” in reactfics is just. :chefskiss: so goddamn good. just. perfection.

like, someone, pls, write this n i will give you both of my kidneys n my first, second, AND thirdborn. like, please, i beg 🙏 (i’d write it myself but i have got SO MANY GODDAMN WIPS i literally cant add another to the pile egsjgsjehe :cryingemoji:)

[ditzyredrobin]

Before and After

Chapter 2

Let it be known, I had zero intentions on making this into a WIP, but 4,613 words later, I’m a little obsessed. Do I need another WIP? No. Do I have a new one now? Yes, yes, I do. 😂

For Whumpcember 2024 - Day 10 - “Let me help you.”

Chapter 1

-

Dick’s visit opens the proverbial floodgates for Bats to drop by unexpectedly and without warning (which rude).

When the doorbell goes off, Tim is up like a shot, heart roaring in his ears, chasing the tail end of a particularly grizzly nightmare, the metallic tang of blood and smoke just on the edge of his senses.

By rote one hand goes to his collapsible bo-staff under his pillow and his phone with the other.

No one was supposed to know about his apartment aside from Dick (if there was anything to be said, manners and personal space weren’t it and Dick? Was the walking, talking, personification of a word vomit).

He blinked blearily at his phone, opening the security feed of the front door, a sense of dread filling his gut. The apartment wasn’t rented in his name, utilities another, and packages were all directed to the Postal Annex in downtown Gotham under a third alias (Key word: contingencies).

But, when the security feed finally opens, it takes a long moment to process what he’s seeing.

It wasn’t ninja at his door or some other baddie flavor of the week it was—it was an elderly man dressed down in a well tailored suit, balding with a thin mustache and two very heavy looking grocery bags hanging off his shoulders.

Alfred, his brain supplied. It was Alfred.

Memories were still muddled and murky but there was something about Alfred that stuck out in his mind—a chuckle, a smile, a proper English accent, the scent of freshly baked biscuits and earl grey tea.

Tim glanced over to the sleeping pup still in the bassinet attached to his bed. She was swaddled just right, somehow still fast asleep at—he squints at the clock—11 am. She never sleeps this late—he never sleeps this late, normally too racked by nightmares and insomnia to get more than a few hours at a time.

What should he do? If he didn’t answer, would he eventually give up and go away? Odds are, if he let the door go unanswered, more Bats were sure to follow (because if Alfred knew, the rest of the Bat Clan would find out, if they hadn’t already). But the thought of going back to bed while he still had the option was tempting—just a little while longer, while Amalia slept before the cycle of change-feed-burp-soothe began again.

Tim breathed a heavy sigh and pressed the button for the intercom on his phone, “I’ll be right there.”

Alfred visibly perked up, glancing up to the security camera in the corner. “It is no problem, dear boy, do not rush on my account.”

His voice is like a balm on a wound that has been oozing, refusing to heal, soothing his inner Omega, settling his racing heart just a touch, his voice radiating safesafesafe.

That’s…unexpected. And not definitely something he wanted to prod with a hundred-foot-pole, Alfred in the hall or not.

Tim grabbed a pair of sweats from the pile on the floor, sniffing to make sure they smelled clean enough for company, and a faded Green Day tee. Good enough.

His industrial (read as: vigilante) grade scent patches were on the dresser nearest the door. He slipped on his slippers and shuffled over to riffle through the nearly empty box.

(Note to self: pilfer more from one of the many Bat-stashes the next time he’s out.)

He delicately peels one off the sheet and presses it to the scent gland to the soft meat of his neck, adding an additional to the scent glands on the inside of his wrists.

When Amalia woke, not being able to scent him would make her fussy, but he didn’t trust his emotions when dealing with Bats. And Alfred? Was a wild card.

Tim shoves his collapsible bo in his pocket before pocketing the baby monitor. Something about leaving her alone made his stomach churn. She was alone without someone to protect her. What if something happened? What if someone gets in and takes her?

…what if someone gets in and takes him? She would be alone for who now’s how long, starving and crying and his eyes feel hot.

His chest constricts. Nope, nope, not happening. Not right now.

She’s sleeping peacefully, her little chest rising and falling, deep in slumber, a hint of a smile on her chubby little cheeks.

His apartment was the most secure location outside of the Bats. In fact, since his last patch after Dick unceremoniously and unwantingly broke into his home, he would say his apartment is more secure than the Bats, second only to (maybe) the clock tower.

He could do this.

He could do this.

(In through your nose one-two-three, out through your mouth one-two-three, come on Tim, one foot in front of the other)

His eyes lingered on the pup for a moment longer before he finally forced himself to move, leaving the door open a crack.

He felt like a mouse caught in a glue trap, trudging his way to the front door, doing his best to ignore the piles of clutter and baby supplies scattered throughout the living room.

There was a pile of clean laundry yet to be folded, taking up the majority of the well-loved sofa and a mountain of dishes in the sink. If he’d known he would have company, he would’ve put in an effort to tidy, or at least shove things in the closet until Alfred left.

Tim made quick work of disarming the security protocols trying to pretend like his hands weren’t trembling. He still had time to change his mind—he didn’t have to let the elderly man in. In all actuality, he could go back to bed right now and pretend this whole thing never happened.

But Dick, he reminded himself.

Damnit.

Tim took another measured breath before inching the door open and with it, the warm scent of Beta hit him like a ton of bricks, filling his chest with a warmth he had only felt in his dreams. It was like drinking a hot cup of tea, the way it pooled in his heart, warming his chest and for a moment he felt like he was choking.

He couldn’t move, staring at the elderly man like he was a ghost, liable to disappear at any moment.

It seemed like Alfred went through something similar, a complicated mix of expressions crossing his face—disbelief, astonishment, sorrow, grief, anguish, before settling on something akin to relief.

“Master Timothy, I’m pleased to see you’re doing well. I’m afraid we had far too many leftovers at the manor and thought perhaps you would be open to helping us before they’ve spoiled.” The English accent was soft and comforting and it felt… it felt like coming home. “May I come in?”

Tim fisted the baby monitor in his pocket, a little part of him hoped that now, right this moment, his pup would whimper or cry, and give him some sort of out, but she didn’t. Damnit.

Slowly, he backed away from the door, allowing Alfred to come in, but said nothing. No hi, hello, or even, it’s good to see you, thanks for dropping in but, y’know, a call would’ve been nice. He had zero trust in what would come out of his mouth, so he stayed silent, watching.

With the Beta inside, Tim glanced out around the hallway for any unwelcome visitors, but the hallway was empty. Judging by the overabundance of Chinese takeout menus the past few months, most of this floor had been empty since he moved, back when he was newly back in Gotham, the tiny pup strapped to his chest.

Reassured they were alone, Tim shut the door and busied himself with reengaging the security, trying to ignore the way his hands were now fully, without a doubt, trembling. By the time all was settled and they were locked in, Alfred had already found his way into the kitchen.

If he noticed the dishes (let’s be real, when he noticed the dishes), he didn’t say anything, his sole focus on unloading the “leftovers”, which was beginning to look like a whole lot more than just leftovers. Multiple casserole dishes were carefully stacked, slowly but surely filling his fridge

“Thank you for helping us with these. I’ve grown accustomed to large family meals, but with master Damian out of the house more and more, it seems we have an overabundance.”

Tim knew Titan duties and university had Damian out of Gotham more and more. He had his choice of Ivy League schools and had ended up with early placement in the Cornell University’s College of Veterinary Medicine after graduating from GA a year early (as valedictorian, no less).

Dick was still in Bludhaven, social worker by day, Nightwing by night but came back to Gotham most weekends (or when he wanted to see Tim on random Tuesday nights).

Jason, on the other hand, from what he’d garnered, was with the Outlaws more often than not these days, back periodically for his heats.

Life had moved on without him. He didn’t blame them—couldn’t blame them—but there was still a bitter tinge in his chest.

Tim blinked and when his brain picked up again, Alfred was still talking.

“-thing is labeled with the ingredients and how to prepare each meal, I hope you don’t mind. It is a force of habit with master Dick and master Bruce. You know how they are.” Alfred mused, moving onto stuffing the freezer. “You wouldn’t believe it—the one time I left them alone for the weekend without enough instructions, I came home to a house full of builders.”

You know how they are.

Maybe he did, sometime in the Before. But now?

Alfred glanced over his shoulder and frowned. Tim isn’t sure what he saw but the Beta had a deep look of concern.

“Oh my dear boy,” slowly he closed the freezer, giving Tim his full attention. “Perhaps I should have called but I didn’t want to miss the opportunity to see you.” I didn’t want you to run.

Which, fair, but it made the ordeal a whole lot more complicated. The way Alfred spoke to him, it was like he was expecting the old Tim, the one who hadn’t been lost to the Pit.

“Did Dick tell you I was here?”

“He did not. In fact, he has warned others not to seek you out, including master Bruce and myself but-“

“But you came anyways.” It wasn’t a question. Alfred opened his mouth to respond but Tim was quick to cut him off, “You being here puts me at risk. How do I know you weren’t followed?”

By Bats, by what was left of the League, pick your poison.

“I assure you, I was not followed.”

“But how can you know?”

“Just because I’m not Batman, does not mean I’m oblivious. I do have a few special skills of my own beyond being the butler for the Wayne family.”

“That’s the problem—you can’t.” Bat or not, there was no way to 100% guarantee. “If you really cared, you would’ve listened to Dick and stayed away. I know you miss Tim but I’m not him.”

“Master Tim, I understand-“

“No, I don’t think you really understand, I don’t remember you. I saw you and I remembered your name, that’s it. Things are a little,” a lot, “hazy, after coming back. I didn’t choose to forget you—I remember blips, but memories are just, not there.” It was like someone had taken a scalpel and cut the out—really, there’s no telling Ra’s hadn’t. “I’m just not him.”

A smile, a stifled chuckle, the clank of fine china cups and saucers.

(I want to remember you—I need to remember you but I can’t)

Tim swallows hard, trying to shove down the sharp fear of rejection, of letting him down, or not being trusted that this is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. It makes his chest ache, and his eyes hot.

“Look I-“ and, the baby monitor finally goes off, giving him the perfect out—the soft whimper of his pup waking up alone without her bearer makes his inner Omega stir. “I’ll be back.” Please be here when I get back.

He doesn’t give Alfred the time for rebuttals, rushing off down the hall where Amalia is waiting, trying to pretend he isn’t running away with his tail between his legs.

-

“Computer, lights at 70%,” Tim called to the AI of his own design. The lights go on as Tim pushes into the room. His pup isn’t crying just yet, the soft whimper, a call to her bearer, a cry of changemeholdmefeedme.

“Shh, good morning, ya rohee,” Tim croons in League dialect, carefully lifting her out of her crib. She scrunches up in his arms like a little inch worm and yawns a yawn much too big for such a little thing. It makes him want to coo, and scent, and snuggle her forever in his nest, never letting her go. This is the best part, his favorite part of the day. “How did you sleep, my love? I’m sorry you woke up alone.”

She answers by blinking up at him with wide, deep violet-blue eyes, all his own. There’s still time for them to change from blue to vibrant green, just like her other father, but he hopes they stay. Just like this. All his own.

Tim just smiles trying to tamp down the thought. He—Ra’s—couldn’t hurt them anymore—he was dead, for good this time.

A sword, sawing through sinew and bone, severing his head from his body, the taste of metallic tang on his teeth as he ripped into his throat and the burn of smoke in his lungs.

There’s only so much the Pit could do and what he’d done? That was way beyond even its capabilities.

He just hoped that when the Bats found out, they took care of her, his life, his heart, his soul.

Logically, he knew the daughter of a vigilante and the former leader of the League was a vulnerable asset that needed to be protected. In the wrong hands—a chill ran down his spine.

Batman didn’t harm innocents. His choices weren’t hers so, by all intents and purposes, she was innocent. She didn’t choose her heritage.

Tim tucked her into his neck where normally his scent would be strongest. He just hoped he would keep her safe in his absence.

Amalia snuffled and nuzzled against his skin searching for his scent currently patched over. When she couldn’t find it, her little lip wobbled and clenched her fists.

Pups needed scent to help regulate their delicate nervous systems and they only left the house a few times a month for diapers and formula or groceries (and the occasional Bat safehouse break-in) so she was used to it near 24/7.

The fact that Dick caught him was a fluke.

Just before laying her down on the changing table, Tim breathed out, trying to still his beating heart, and lifted the scent patch up just enough for her to catch a whiff. Almost immediately she went lax in his arms, letting out a huff of air. Any chance of her crying was snuffed out in an instant.

Crisis averted.

Tim took a breath to calm himself and held her there, gently rubbing her back. He guessed, for just a moment, he could have this.

Alfred could wait.

-

Changed out of her swaddle and sleep clothes, Tim shuffled back into the kitchen, the same bitter fear of rejection in his gut. Amalia was settled in the cloth pack on his chest, smacking her lips, making it known that she was ready for breakfast. He, on the other hand, was not.

Breakfast meant facing Alfred but there was only so long he could keep putting it off—put off their conversation.

When he rounded the corner, it was to a clean kitchen. In the time it had taken to get the pup up, most of the laundry was folded and ready to be put away, including pairs of socks he hadn’t seen in months (how Alfred did that, he’ll never know).

The mountain of dishes had been diminished to a clean sink and the dishwasher running. Crumbs and spilled formula had been wiped away and Tim… all Tim could do was stare, a wave of shame is like cold water.

Thank god he’d reapplied the scent patch because this would be embarrassing. Luckily, the carrier smelled enough like him, that, for now, Amalia was settled.

Alfred finished folding a faded band tee and turned his attention back to Tim. Eyes were immediately on his pup and Tim waited for something. Shame? Disgust? But Tim found none of that.

Instead the elderly Beta’s expression softened. “I apologize, I seem to have gotten a bit carried while you were away. A bit of a habit, I’m afraid.”

Tim swallows hard, wrapping a protective hand around the pup, eyes drawn to the unimpressive greige carpet. “I’m sorry it’s been a long week and she’s been so fussy. If I’d known you were coming over I would’ve cleaned up.” His eyes were hot. He was not going to cry—he was not going to cry.

“Nonsense,” Alfred’s voice is gentle and insistent. “It is one of my joys in life to care for my charges. Trust me when I say this is nothing compared to young master Dick’s room, a few dishes and clean laundry is nothing in comparison to the ecosystem I have found on occasion.”

He could tell Alfred was trying to be humorous but it did nothing to ease his conscience. “I shouldn’t need to get caught up. I should’ve just handled it when it happened but I’m just…” Exhausted? Overwhelmed? Missing the pack he doesn’t even remember having?

“I understand and I mean this when I say, I pass no judgement.”

Tim risked a surprised glance. “How?”

Alfred smiled, “I wasn't always just a butler. I was a parent too once upon a time before coming to work for the Wayne’s.” He continued, “Believe it or not, I, too, have a daughter.”

“…you do?”

He nods, “I do, back in England—Julia. We don’t have the best of relationships. It seems the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, I’m afraid.” He chuckled a bit sadly before changing the subject, “Now then. How would you feel about some breakfast?”

Almost as if at the mention of food, Amalia started to wriggle, very obviously done with their dilly dallying. Tim breathed a sigh and nodded. He didn’t normally eat breakfast but it was nearly lunchtime and his stomach was starting to make its presence known in a feed me or else sort of way. “Breakfast would be nice.”

Ding ding ding. By the look on his face, Tim answered correctly. Go him. “Will scones hold you over while I prepare something more substantial?”

“Scones sound…nice.”

Which is how they ended up in the kitchen, a plate of scones with clotted cream and tea in front of him while Amalia went to town on her bottle, ravenous. One little hand was on the bottle and the other fisted in his shirt.

Tim was sitting at one of the bar chairs glancing up at Alfred every so often, watching for something, anything to go wrong, (a dash of poison, or paralytic, Alfred disappearing into thin air) as he cooked up a proper English breakfast.

Before Alfred, his fridge had nothing more than some flaccid celery, a weeks old pizza from Rao’s a few blocks down, and half a bottle of ranch. Now, it was stuffed to the gills with fruits and veggies, eggs, and other household staples.

(No wonder his bags looked so heavy. How he carted them up five stories and a broken elevator was beyond him. Bats, am I right?)

“Her name is Amalia.” Tim said awkwardly after a few minutes of silence. “I don’t know if Dick told you.”

“Master Dick did not mention it but there was some…speculation, that something more was going on, on master Bruce’s part.”

An arch of dread runs through him, “Bruce knows?”

Of course Bruce knows. Why wouldn’t he know? He’s Batman. Alfred being here all but confirmed he knows about his apartment, too. And if that thought doesn't make him want to high tail it out of Gotham.

Hearing the hoarseness of his voice, Alfred looks up, “I am truly sorry. I should’ve listened to master Dick. This was your secret to share and I forced your hand.”

Tim shook his head, “I should’ve known, it makes sense, I just-“ he wanted to pull his hair out and scream. It makes sense. It’s just—he wasn’t ready for a boatload of Bats invading his nest.

Amalia was still so little. Being taken from her at this age… if birth trauma and the subsequent fallout hasn’t hurt her, this will. It could kill her.

“It isn’t alright.” Alfred sounded genuinely remorseful as he pushed mushrooms around in the pan. “I was being selfish and did not take into account the trauma you’ve been subjected to.”

Tim mulled over those words trying to tamp down his inner Omega stirring, wanting to reassure the elder Beta that it was okay, the wanted to bask in the feeling of being cared for. There were whispers of pack at the back of his mind.

Alfred had brought him groceries and meals—he was providing for him, showing he cared, but no, no, no. His arms tightened around the pup.

The old Tim may have been pack but that was Before and this is now—the After. Who wanted a broken murderer of an Omega? One that had broken the Bat Code of Conduct whose number one rule was don’t kill.

Alfred turned off the burner and slid the mushrooms onto the plate beside the eggs and sausage just as the toaster popped. Tim looked up briefly when the plate slid in front of him. After a terse moment, Tim said, “Thank you.” The weariness on his tone almost makes him flinch.

Almost.

“My pleasure, Master Tim.” His inner Omega preened at the title. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

Tim glanced down at the pup in his arms, finishing up her bottle. And, before he could think the words slipped past his lips. “…do you want to hold her?”

Safe, the Omega crooned. He wouldn’t let Dick hold her but Alfred… Alfred was different.

At those words, Alfred’s face lit up like it’s Christmas. “Are you quite sure?”

No, Tim wanted to argue, while the Omega practically screamed, yes.

It would make eating easier and here, in his apartment, he was in control. The collapsible bo-staff was heavy in his pocket. In just a few steps, he could have him neutralized if he dared to do anything to harm her, but part of him just knew he wouldn’t.

Tim bit his lip and nodded, “Can you burp her? She isn’t rolling over just yet so she still needs to be burped.”

Alfred gives him a gentle smile, seemingly genuinely happy at the offer. “I would be delighted too.”

There’s a smile on Amalia’s chubby cheeks, kicking his little legs in delight when he leans down and nuzzles her. She laughs in delight, warming his heart and making it that much harder to let go. She smells content and full, making a grab at his too-long hair. “Just a few minutes, hayati, be nice for Alfred, alright?”

In true baby fashion, she squeals when he rubs his nose against her cheek. He finishes off with a a long kiss to her forehead, lingering on the scent of his pup.

It was getting stronger the longer they were in Gotham. She was getting stronger.

Tim carefully untangled her fingers from his hair, pressing a kiss to each finger before looking to Alfred who was standing in front of him, eyes soft. “I am honored you’re allowing me this opportunity. I promise, I will take excellent care of her.”

He didn’t trust himself to answer so he nodded and slowly passed her to his waiting arms, trying to remember to breathe.

At first, realizing she was changing arms, her little lip wobbled, but Alfred murmured something soft in her ear just for them, holding her close and she was all his.

He didn’t stray far, grabbing a burp rag from the pile of carefully folded laundry, staying in Tim’s line of sight. Close enough that if Tim suddenly needed to jump in, he was right there.

But she didn’t fuss. In fact, by the time Tim had plowed through his breakfast, she was burped and settled, her face pressed into his neck, milk drunk and content. It made his heart ache, wanting her back all the more.

He made quick work of rinsing his plate and dropping it in the sink for later. It was the first time in months his belly felt full and he felt like his battery wasn’t running on 5%.

Rushing back into the living room, Alfred had moved to the gliding chair, rocking the cooing pup.

He smiled up at Tim. It was all he could do not to make grabby hands for his pup—his baby. “You’ve done well with her. She is lovely.”

“Can I-?” Without needing to finish the sentence, Alfred carefully passed her back.

“You need not ask, my boy. I am grateful for the moment with her.”

With her in his arms, he could breathe again, squeezing her just the right side of tight to his chest. She was safe, he had her, she was his.

“She will always be yours. I would never dream of taking her from you.” Alfred assured standing up from the rocker. Oops. “I assure you, neither would Master Bruce.” Until he finds out about Ra’s. “Now, I believe you both have had quite the afternoon, perhaps if best you retire to your nest? I have a few things to finish up here and I will be on my way.”

His nest sounded nice but- “You don’t have to do that.”

“As I stated earlier, it’s no chore helping you with these things. Please, let me help you.” Let me help you. Tim’s eyes felt hot again. (Translated to: Let me take care of you)

He was not going to cry… not now, at least.

Okay. This was okay, this was, “Okay.” Tim’s voice is strained but Alfred doesn’t say anything about it.

Instead, he tentatively reaches a hand out, giving Tim enough time to pull away, but he doesn’t. He placed it on his shoulder and squeezed. It’s a warm and reassuring touch, grounding, and now Tim is actually going to cry. Damnit.

Tim has to blink quickly, trying to stave off the tears that will inevitably fall once he’s back in his nest and able to be vulnerable. His instinct is to lean into the touch, to sink and melt, and let himself have this one moment, but he can’t.

He can’t get close.

Tim goes rigid under his touch but doesn’t pull away and Alfred? Alfred smells…happy. Happy in a way that forces Tim to choke down a purr.

“Very good. I know that my coming here was unexpected but it was so good to see you.” He is not going to cry. “You don’t need to make a decision now, but it’s alright, I would like to come back, this time on a day of your choosing. It’s perfectly alright to say no but I’ve missed you so much.” His eyes are wet when he says, “Between you and Master Jason, I have never regretted anything more in my life.”

He has an out, the ability to say no, but what comes out instead is, “How does Tuesday sound?”

[paperstarwriters]

Billowing Fabrics

ouagh. I wouldn't typically post a fic like this lmao I feel like it's kinda underbaked so to say? but deadline is coming in and I don't have the leisure to leave the fic to just bake in my WIP file like I do with other fics 🥲 Not a bad thing neccicarily but if the fic isn't as perfectly polished that's why lol.

anyways,

Pairing: Muriel x reader (romantic)

Warnings: N/a

Summary: You've accidentally made one of your sweaters a little too big when you were trying to make it bigger and slouchier for yourself. Muriel finds your work and takes it upon himself to fix the worn down sweater. Not for any particular reason no, no... he just found a sweater that seemed to fit him....

Vesuvia Weekly Prompt | Masterlists | The Arcana Masterlist

Word count: 1,426

––––––––– ✦✧✦ –––––––––

The objective is a complicated one, but it was supposed to be simple with the aid of magic.

The spell is a simple one, but the objective you want to achieve has made it overly complicated.

You wanted a longer sweater for the upcoming months something long on the lower end with equally long sleeves to tuck your hands and legs into when it got particularly cold, turning yourself into a ball of soft fabrics—a sponge of soft fabrics when you inevitably leaned against Muriel.

There were a handful of well failed attempts that you've since set aside to mess around with later with the help of some borrowed yarn from Portia , or attempts that near destroyed the sweater you were working on. Thankfully the bunch you've targeted using, were either sweaters that have already been worn to bits and a handful of cheaply bought sweaters for more experimentation.  

From the various failed attempts you have one sweater that ended up with sleeves so long you could use it for a scarf. Another attempt stole fabric from the sleeves to lengthen the torso portion, and one of the attempts had simply made the woolen material far, far, far too thick to work with. Each were an interesting discovery in their own right of course, with the latter one in particular being added as a possible adjustment you would like to make to your end result. Not as thick as the material at hand of course, but something akin to that amount.

Beneath your fingers the well worn fabric of one of your more damaged sweaters stretches and expands. Fabric spills over your lap, as threads twist and turn growing thicker or longer depending on your desires, and as the light finally dims from it's passage through your fingertips and into the very fibers of the sweater you find yourself with a substantially larger and thicker sweater, fluffy and soft, though a little too big around the collar, and the sleeves seemed a pinch too loose. Practically perfect though! You promptly turn your attention to the target sweater you're intent on changing setting aside the successful practice to join the other attempts and work at slowly expanding the sweater. It doesn't take long before your sweater is now larger and comfier and fluffier around you, and very eagerly, you dash out of the hut intent on showing off your new creation.

——————————

Muriel returns, to the pleasantly warm confines of the hut. You're still outside, having gone on a quick trip to the marketplace, to go grab some groceries intent on getting the most important goods before the worst of an upcoming snowstorm hit. Snow wasn't exactly common in Vesuvia but on the odd occasion a wash of cold weather sweeps through, sometimes bringing snow, sometimes only bringing ice. While Muriel felt far more comfortable than most in the cold chilly temperatures, he knew full well he wasn't exactly a good example of an average citizen and though he knew how to manage his way through frost and snow, getting extra groceries was always a good help.

Extra cuddly items like sweaters and blankets couldn't hurt either.

Noticing the pile of thick fabric materials Muriel pokes his way through your failed attempts. You very eagerly showed off your brand new sweater, or well, old-ish sweater with brand new measurements. Made to protect even better against the cold beneath a water and wind proof cape. While you had tried to explain your process to him, bouncing around with glee at your success, Muriel found it difficult to imagine how you had been able to change the fabric to somehow create more of itself.

His hands stop at the sight of one sweater, well worn, and almost tearing at the seams. There's a little hole around the chest, and the sleeves seem to be moth-bitten, and he wonders how long you've had this. It's a much bigger size, clearly a victim of your testing for your sweater, and as he holds it up into the air to inspect it more, he finds it to almost fit his own size.

Tugging the fabric over his head, Muriel is greeted by a wash of scent. You've worn this sweater a lot surely. Perhaps as casual wear at some point of time. He recalls dimly seeing you wear it around the hut on the odd occasion, and though he feels slightly bad, he takes a moment to appreciate the feeling of being wrapped in something that smells so strongly of you.

When he finally pulls the sweater down, he finds the fabric fits him like a glove. No slouchiness or poofiness that you seemed so fond of in your own sweater, but it fits him, and it fits him well, even if there are a few odd holes amidst the seams.

Muriel takes off the sweater, setting it aside atop of your shared bed before he goes digging in the shelves of your stuff. Portia had lent the both of you some yarn at some point, if he recalled, perhaps he could patch a hole in this.

————————

Muriel returns home a little later than you, and though you're curious to see what he's done while you were out helping Asra and hauling groceries, the question escapes you when you actually see him. Patched with little hearts Muriel wears your old and tattered sweater, the one you made a little too large for you, but perfectly fits him.

And when he walks in the door, he stops, stares, and drops the knitting tools he's likely borrowed from Portia.

And in typical fashion, his face grows pink

"Is that my...?" you barely finish your question before Muriel sputters his reply.

"Oh, I'm sorry I didn't.... There were a bunch of holes in it and...." Though you try to hide it, try to bite your lips and cover your mouth to hide your grin, there's no mistaking the delight and glee that fills your cheeks, as you grin. Just seeing it Muriel seems to grow worse, face growing redder and redder. "I... Uh.... I didn't ........... It was just there.........and I just thought..........."

You don't say anything, no longer finding any need to hide and instead unabashedly grinning from ear to ear, pleased as punch at the sight of Muriel wearing your clothes. It fits him so nicely, you're almost upset you hadn't thought of doing so yourself.

He goes quiet in reply, staring down at the floor as smoke seems to puff from his ears, while Inanna rolls her eyes behind him and starts headbutting him in through the door. He scrambles to pick up his things at the gesture closing the door and keeping the chill from filling your little home.

Still he tries not to look at you. And yet you can't help but poke and prod.

"Is it comfy?"

He almost jumps at the question. "I.... Yeah. It's really soft and....." His mouth snaps shut with a faint click of his teeth, as he returns to busying himself with putting away the tools Portia let him borrow.

It's just a few tools, in any other scenario, he'd just set them on the shelf and sort it out later, there was no need for him to hem or haw over any container to put them into.

He just doesn't want to look at you right now, doesn't want to see the grin you have at seeing him in your clothes or at what he almost—

"and what?"

He doesn't have to reply, but you both know he will anyways.

With a soft and tepid voice, Muriel turns to just glance at you from the corner of his eye. "It..... It smells nice."

He doesn't say "it smells like you," but you both know that's what he means, and though you can't quite manage a pout around your grin you still lift up the sleeves of your sweater, and open your arms up to him.

"Aww, could you help me make mine smell nice as well?"

And though red faced, and still blushing, Muriel finally turns to you with a smile. How could he not? The prospect of a hug far too enticing, though he still tries to look away to hide it.

Curling up into your arms as his own come up to wrap around you, the both of you find the overwhelming warmth... Pleasant.

Outside it's frigid, icy and cold.

Inside, it's toasty and warm beneath your blanket like sweaters, and the feeling of being totally engulfed the presence of each other.

[dangerpronebuddie]

Inspiration Saturday/ Several Sentences Sunday!!

Tagged by so many people through the week, so I'm gonna say Saturday's: @bidisasterevankinard @thekristen999 @wikiangela @theotherbuckley thank you and thanks for the tags all week y'all!! 🩷💜

Finals have been surprisingly draining this semester, so the writing beans just aren't there. Good news though! I got the highest grade on my final for my leadership class 😁! Also good news, I finished the bar fight fic!!! I'm so glad I'm finally done, but it does need a little editing. Fingers crossed, I can post it maybe Tuesday.

With the 7x07 synopsis and all the Eddie bts we're getting, I got an idea for another wip... like I need it. Long story short, Eddie gets hurt, his parents find out about the will, and Eddie comes to accept his feelings behind the decision. Here's some of the beginning (it's in great need of improvement... after my last papers):

A loud crack sounded above their heads. Buck paused and looked up. The ceiling was about to fall in. Strong arms shoved him forward, far enough away from the split that he wouldn't get hit by any debris. He tripped over the leg of a desk and tumbled to his hands and knees as the ceiling came down with a deafening crash. He whirled around as the dust settled, concrete and remains of furniture from the floor above tumbling down the pile of rubble. A shrill alarm rang through the otherwise silent floor, turning his stomach. His heart leapt into his throat. A PASS alarm. “Eddie!” Buck screamed. He scrambled to his feet and threw whatever debris he could off of the pile. His heart, pounding in his ears, almost completely drowned out the ringing of the alarm. He keyed his radio as he sifted through the rubble, right where he knew Eddie was just standing. “Mayday mayday mayday,” he said, trying desperately to keep his voice clear. “Firefighter down. The ceiling collapsed when we passed the Charlie side. Firefighter down, I repeat, firefighter Diaz is down!”

Absolutely no pressure tagging (and lmk if you want to be added/ removed):

@13shadesofanni @lover-of-mine @monsterrae1 @loveyouanyway @tizniz

@daffi-990 @diazsdimples @hippolotamus @exhuastedpigeon @spagheddiediaz

@actuallyitsellie @steadfastsaturnsrings @ronordmann @kitteneddiediaz @rainbow-nerdss

@alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @fortheloveofbuddie @smallandalmosthonest @likeamollusconarock @shipperqueen6

@jshadow01 @thegeekcompanion @wildlife4life @lunarspark-cos @daniwib @idealuk @misshiss727 @lin27 @weareallstoriesintheend11 @orangeboxfox92

[blupeeblep]

Links Meet AU, Hi, I'm Blue, Just a lil guy; the kinstone guy, Red & Vio 👀

Am I allowed to ask about this many....? (Was kinda tempted to ask about more tbhhh)

Links Meet AU:

So... This is a Links meet au that I started creating... Maybe three years ago? Two? One? I can't remember. Anyways, it was super messy, and I didn't understand a lot of stuff, since I was very new to LoZ lore and such. It'll be having the Akira Himikawa manga Links. I already had designs from back then, but they were very canon and unoriginal, so I'm gonna be changing that up. The only one I'm keeping is Sor Raven's. His is cool. When I made it, I also didn't have all the books, so I'll be adding more characters. It also doesn't really have a story line, as far as I can tell. Oh, Min does already have a potential design. Made it... Two sketch books ago? Haven't shared it yet though since I'm not entirely certain, especially since it really goes against the grain of what people have normally done with them... Anyways, I'll be focusing on it next month (August) as best I can, since I have another trip coming up, lol. But at least this time I will have my phone✨ Anyways, uhm... I might need help on figuring out a name for it. Maybe. I'll always listen to suggestions if you'd like, but please don't be disappointed if it doesn't get picked. Once I find a name, and have at least one set it stone (and updated in Sir Raven's case, lol), I'll make an account thingy for it (word for that has fled me atm, my apologies).

Hi, I'm Blue:

So... It's currently only one paragraph that I wrote one night. Cause my brain decided that'd be an amazing time to write a slightly angsty paragraph, lol. And...I might actually mix it with another WIP since they're similar, and since the plan for the other one might not work since the other one is inspired by something, but the one who made the something might not be cool with Blue being a girl and Zelda a lesbian since they're religious... So... Yeah. (I mean, I'm religious, and I know many other religious people who are allies and/or even members of the lgbtqia+ community like myself, but even then, there are also many that I know I wouldn't be safe with if they knew. So... I'm not wanting to take chances, lol.) Anyways, this is Blue whump and character figuring out, pretty much. It'll be super epic when written, I promise. (Also was inspired though by when one acquaintance said that Blue was only anger, which she def ain't!!! And I will write this amazingly, since I once was a Blue, and now someone I know is like a Blue. So I have two sides of the same coin that I can look at.)

Just a lil guy; the kinstone guy:

This was planned from something I saw when I recently started. Uhm... I'm really sorry Ruby Tired Human who draws junk that this is taking a while and doesn't actually have anything written nor planned... Anyways, this will be a minish cap fic. Cause it will happen, I just don't know when. ... Especially since I have many other fics and such piling my plate, lol.

Red & Vio

Wolfie and Liam had a discussion amongst themselves that I saw and I offered to write more Vio & Red interacting centric fics, of which both said yes very enthusiastically. Currently one chapter finished (and posted on Ao3), one in the writing (which I didn't plan for but I was writing on paper during my trip, lol). And... Since I didn't plan for the one I'm writing, the ones I planned might get thrown out the window since this is looking like an actual fic instead of random little snip-its... Hope y'all don't mind, lol. Anyways, uhm... It's gonna get a tad bit whumpy, but then very cuddly, of which the last bit has already been a tad featured✨

And feel free to ask about more!!! I love interaction ✨✨✨ and yapping about my stuff✨✨✨ I just need questions and prompts so I know what to yap about, lol.

( those mentioned, and I hope you don't mind me tagging you. @a-tired-human-draws-junk @liamket @localpangendernerd . Not saying the religious person though since I'm probably gonna divert enough from where I planned originally that I won't have to say that was what inspired, since I was also inspired by a different person due to spite, lol. And also not tagging them (not their pronouns, gender neutral used to further mask identity) because I don't want anyone to be mean, cause they're amazing and very nice, nor ask for me, cause I can do that myself if I really want to.)

[luce-ciel]

Fujimaru has been curious about make-up. Every young woman has dabbled on it, but not for her. There’s was no time to think about such trivial things during the incineration of humanity. Even now it’s silly to think about it, but she could be a bit selfish? Can’t she? It wouldn’t hurt to indulge in something small.

Should she add a make-up routine on top of skin care? Should she try to apply more than just chapstick? Lipstick is an easy one! Maybe she should try to apply eyeliner? It can’t be that hard, can it? So here she was trying to do something simple, but it didn’t come out as good. Maybe she’ll try another time.

—

She did not expect one of her abruptly visits to Kadoc’s room to end up a lesson in make-up.

“Hold still, close your eyes.” Kadoc says with a gentle voice. “I’m going to do your eyeliner.”

“Eh?,” she’s at a loss of words. Sitting on his bed, staring at Kadoc with a confused expression.

“You told Kierlight about your troubles with eyeliner.” He sighs. “Very loudly, might I add.”

“Is Senpai going to teach me how to apply eyeliner properly?” She teases him.

——

🧡🤍 Had and idea of Kadoc being the one to apply eyeliner for Fujimaru. It’s be a sin if he didn’t know how to do that. Besides everyone had their emo stage at some point. Perfect boyfriend material. Applying the perfect wings~

Kadoc being a bit self-conscious at first. Invading her personal space, but he eventually gets over it and ends up enjoying the closeness. His fingers gently brushing away her hair from her forehead, caressing her cheek, his face closer than he can ever get to without the excuse of “I’m just helping her with her make up”. The trust she has for him, leaving herself completely open.

I still have that other sketch to finish up… man I am adding more to my WIP pile….

[lisenberry]

WIP Wednesday

Snippet from Chapter 4 of The mountain is you.

CW: Language, dom/sub dynamics, innuendo, jealous Price.

The two men sitting across from you at the table of your go-to restaurant for closing deals with pushy potential clients were a father and son, CEO and VP team.  Your company offered a service that theirs needed desperately.  And they had the audacity to demand it at a cut rate.

They tried so hard to impress you with their staggering wealth and impressive portfolio, they must’ve forgotten that this was your job.  That you weren’t fooled by overwhelming displays of douchebaggery.  By smoke and mirrors.  Cutting through the bullshit was what you did best.

And as dinner went on, they piled it waist high.  Flung it around like monkeys at the zoo.  In the end, you just had to plug your nose and wade through it with patience and your head held high.

Fuck them, their rare car collection, their villa on Lake Como, and their 75-meter yacht.  You were ready to give in, to take the loss just to get them to stop fucking talking so you could go home and take off your bra.

The waiter had just brought over another round of drinks when you looked up to see John find a seat at a nearby table with an older couple who looked to be in their late sixties, and a beautiful woman in her early thirties.

It only took a second for his gaze to meet yours across the room.  It was exactly the type of situation you had avoided with Ghost.  That awkward breaking of the fourth wall when you ran into each other in the real world.  Outside the protection of your carefully curated sessions.

You tried not to stare, but it shook you more than you thought it would.  Part of your contract was that you’d be exclusive.  For safety purposes, you’d have no sexual partners outside of each other throughout the duration.  It was one of his hard lines. 

One you could easily keep.  Was it so hard for him?

He even had the gall to look angry, eyes darkening perceptibly even in the distance as he held up his phone briefly. 

A second later, you received a message on yours.

Meet me in the bathroom.  Five minutes.

Surely, he wasn’t serious.

Your companions were still talking away, congratulating each other on their mastery of the universe, as you quickly typed your response.

Is that your wife?

Taking a sip of your water, you smiled impressively to the older man naming dropping who he was playing golf with over the weekend.  Careful not to turn back toward John, whose daggers you could feel as sharply as though they were lodged in your skin.

My sister.  Are you fucking the father or the son?...or both?

You looked up at the dynamic duo and stifled the urge not to vomit a bit in your mouth.

Ick, no.  Clients.

There was a long pause before he responded, but you still didn’t look back at him.  His presence too much for the room.  His hold on you too strong for polite company.  The vibration of the next message jolted you like a jump scare.

I gave you an order.

The blood drained from your face.  Your mouth went dry.  Your panties, on the other hand, seemed to catch both like a grounding rod of sensation.  Hot and slick.

Fine.  Don’t be nice, you typed, before adding.  Please.

You did look up then, just in time to see John nod once before excusing himself and disappearing down a long hallway.

“I’m getting the feeling that I’m being dicked around here, gentleman.  I’m going to take a minute in the ladies’ room.  When I come back, if you don’t have a number ready that I can work with, I’m going to walk out that door and instruct my assistant to stop taking your calls.”

Not that she could anyway.  You were still working on that particular aspect of her job description.

But that, along with any other concerns, disappeared below the surface when you opened the door to the single restroom in the back of the restaurant.    

“Don’t be nice, eh?  Do you have any idea what you’re asking for, sweetheart?”  He growled from the corner behind the door, just before he pounced on you like a panther in the dark.  Eyes flashing with a sort of calm, primal patience.  The kind that waits, as long as it takes, despite the sweet smell of fear in its prey.  Despite the promise of how good it will taste.

Stumbling back out of instinct, you only hit the hard wall behind you.  Trapped.

[misshollowayss]

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if you’d like to see my GRAPHIC DESIGN blog dedicated to hatchetfield / the lands that are , go follow my other blog : @lucindagrizzwald

dni : BASIC DNI CRITERIA!! hazbin hotel enjoyers, proshippers, people who believe in rcta, people who do not tag NSFW accordingly, m-i-k/m-a-p, crosstaggers, michie enjoyers, people who shit on headcannons and personal interpretations.

byf : I AM AN ADULT ( 20 YEARS OLD ), DISABLED and work fulltime so replies and posts are SLOW. i ship hollowcross and talk a lot about my au for hatchetfield that’s been heavily developed. i also selfship w/ wilbur cross and max jägerman.

⭑⠀ 𝐢𝐢. ⠀ “what should be expected of this blog, dalteoki?” you all ask. well, my blog is definitely going to act as a character dump and thought pile regarding starkid’s hatchetfield series.  below you will find my tag(s) used!! feel free to give those a looksie! note: these are subject to change / be added to accordingly !

⠀⧽ ⸅ ⠀♪⠀ ⠀ 𝕯𝙰𝙻𝚃𝙴𝙾𝙺𝙸 ⠀ .. ⠀ 𝚃𝙰𝙶𝚂 !

#─┈ ⟢ ⠀( teoki blabs ) : general yapping. #─┈ ⟢ ⠀( teoki writes ) : fanfics. #─┈ ⟢ ( teoki luvs ) : selfship stuff. #─┈ ⟢ ⠀( the black book ) : teokis hatchetfield ocs. #─┈ ⟢ ⠀( the good witch of hatchetfield ) : character thoughts. #─┈ ⟢ ⠀( in another life ) : au thoughts and ideas. #─┈ ⟢ ( the summoning ) : reblogs.

below are unserious tags

#hollowcross propaganda #teoki loves holloway #teoki talks cc / lands that are #for dino - bf tag

moots pls tag : michie, max x pete, barnston/barnroe, burnerphone, insects ( not including spiders ), as #teoki hide

fic masterlist wip

⭑⠀ 𝐢𝐢𝐢.⠀  just as a warning, i do heavily enjoy canon/oc and then canon/canon rarepairs. i also do have specific interpretations of characters that will be listed under my canon portrayals! but i know that some people can get weird with canon/oc’s so,,, yEahmmm!!

MY PORTRAYALS OF CANON⠀:⠀ miss holloway, grace chasity, linda monroe, emma perkins, stephanie lauter, richard lipschitz, lex foster, hannah foster, karen chasity, elijah bailey ( officer bailey ), kyle claugher, stacy birmingham, brenda briggs-jepson, zoey chambers, zach chambers, henry hidgens, alice woodward, jerry ‘boy jerry’, jerika ‘girl jerry’, danny ( stopwatch ), dan reynolds, tom houston, jane perkins, wilbur cross, agatha waylon, willabella muckwab, wiggog y’wrath, nibblenephim, bliklotep, webby.

ORIGINAL CHARACTERS⠀:⠀evangaline goodreau, charles kingston, elsie kingston, ryder kingston, mengtao walker ( formerly li ), simon prince, mary-kate ‘mk’ evans, django leichtman, ella knight, jay knight, forrest dasch, morgana lidecker, shawn lauter, julia nichole bailey, elizabeth-ann claugher, gregory jägerman, albert jägerman, cynthia murray, jessica ‘jessie’ matthews. unlisted — half of the workin’ boys.

[lanafofana]

WIP Whatever Whenever

Yeah another bit of Gale + Barby (barbarian) Tav. I just think they're neat okay.

“You’re right, Astarion, talking my way out of problems is great!” 

Astarion’s jaw snaps shut while rage quickly overtakes his blatant shock. “That's not what I meant, you unhinged lunatic! Does that even count as killing him? That had better count!” 

“You’re welcome!” she says snottily. “C’mon everybody, rootin’ tootin’ lootin’ time!” 

“Hells,” Shadowheart mutters, adding the glowing purple sphere to her pack. “Is that her new catchphrase?” 

Gale‘s eyes are wide when Tav turns to grin at him. He looks around at the rest of the party as they pick their way up an incline of debris. “Did that just bloody happen?!” They ignore him, the murmur of conversation drifting down to him as they presumably start looting everything. Gods but his knees could do with a sit down for five or so. He turns around to stare at Tav again. “I’m not gonna lie, that was particularly amazing to watch. You’re amazing.” He shakes his head in wonder. “Where did you come from?” 

“I’m more interested in where I can cum later,” says Tav, from much closer. He forgets how fast she can move sometimes. 

Tav has boxed him in against a pillar without him really noticing till his back meets stone. She has one hand on his chin and the other on the pillar behind him with nothing but trouble written in her eyes. Gale feels his skin flush hot under the collar and tugs on it absently. She tracks the movement, looking utterly charmed. She presses a chaste kiss to the side of his mouth. “Did I make you nervous, magic man?”  

“Only in the best ways,” he says honestly. It’s disturbingly true. 

The average person has a pretty healthy grasp on self preservation, achieving a balance between reckless inhibition and careful consideration of sane things like consequences. 

Wizards take this normal sense of balance and chuck it out the highest window of their tower because personal safety is the one rule to rule them all and in Mystras grace bind them. Each spell created is meticulously crafted, for years if not decades and only in the most secure of carefully controlled environments. Tower defenses are practically day one at any instructional wizarding institutions worth their salt.   

And then she burst into his life like an explosion. Cocksure, mouthy, and armed with the muscles to pick up the slack left by her non-existent patience. Gods but it thrilled him. She’s still smiling at him, a hand on his hip where she drags her thumb in a lazy arc, and he thinks that if she is wildfire then he is air and he will let her swallow him whole for the chance to bask in the inferno of her blaze. 

“Are you guys fuckin’ on the corpse bed?” asks a cautious voice from above. 

“No!” Gale might have sprung away if he was not caged between the stone pillar at his back and the wall of muscle that was his beloved but as it is he merely does a full body flinch, clipping Tav’s chin with his forehead. Tav’s laughter bellows, echoing deep into the temple. 

“Ugh,” says Astarion. “Either way you answer, you don’t deserve your share of the loot, I’m keeping it.” 

That grabs Tav’s attention and in a flash she is charging up the pile of rubble that serves as a staircase. “Excuse me? I’ll show you who deserves loot! That orthon’s crossbow is mine; I can take it from you while you are conscious or unconscious but I am taking it before we leave this room.”

On the floor below Gale laughs, shaking his head at the sound of Astarion’s sudden shriek. 

“Fine! Have it! Gods!”

[poupeesdecirque]

WiP - Bookman Jr - Coat & Brooch

Here we are again with more sewing. I have complied this post from a week worth sewing. I was feeling low in energy and only did a bit here and there but it piled up in the end.

I have bought so many beautiful materials for this doll (and cosplay later on), like this ribbon. I had another one but I love the light golden color here. There is a lot of different golden tones in this outfit but it gives it a more realistic touch. The fabric for the lining is mainly my choice bc I didn't want to use the one from the cosplay and I had this in my scraps box... but in the end I truly loved it and maybe will use it to line the collar for the cosplay too.

After the sleeves I sewed together everything else, it was actually a quite nice sewing expierence as I took a ton of breaks here and there.

This was 2 days worth of sewing already.

The next one started with me replacing the collar as it didn't match up as I liked it to match (one side was shorter??), it was an easy fix luckily.

Next up was a ton of hand sewing, closing border seams. Somehow I find this incredible relaxing even when it's super slow progress.

And another day done! What I didn't picture here is that I had to remake the lining for the sleeves as it was somehow to short? But it was just one seam each that's managable and quicker than fiddling around forever. I'm quite proud how nice the lining came out.

After taking forever to pin down the frog closure I decided to test the decorative stitching, the old collar was helping here. But after some hours... I wasn't satisfied and called it a day. Especially after injuring my right index finger this was not something I wanted to do anymore.

Next day was me being super hyped to sew but I injured my hands further because of work, ... but I was eager to sew T_T

It took me several hours to sew on the closure, I also corrected some seams as they were crooked.

And battled the stitching... as you can see I decided to redo it right after finishing it, the double layered stitches look much better and even.

Here is the result <3

But of course one little thing was missing... the brooch.

I later on added a bit more paint to it so make it more pop, but we are done sewing! Face up is next.