#now of course they’ve both left acting behind

[misserabella]

puppy love pt.2

shane mccutcheon x fem! reader

pt.1

summary; shane had showed you real pleasure. but now she was just a mere ghost, haunting you.

cw; +18 content! minors dni!!!, heavy use of drugs and alcohol, hookups (r has sex with another girl), fighting, teasing, tension!!, groping, piercings, tit playing, nipple sucking (both receiving), kinda switch shane but goes back to being dom, oral sex! (shane receiving), hair pulling (both receiving), fingering (both receiving), hickeys, making out, dirty talking, praising, use of good girl, cum eating, choking (r receiving), orgasm delay (r receiving), scissoring, multiple orgasms, breeding kink??…

something you should’ve expected from shane mcutcheon was that she would run away. but against your better judgement you still had hopes that she wouldn’t. that this would have meant something. silly of you to think it would.

she had made you cum. she had fucked you. she had showed you what real pleasure felt like and then she had dipped.

left you there for you to drown in your thoughts. and in alcohol.

“woah, woah. take it easy.” your friend charlotte, from the group you’ve gone out partying, tried to stop you from taking another swing from your drink. of course, that was an uneasy task.

you hadn’t been this off tracks since your teenage years. you were drowning glass after glass of liquor, cups that men and women would buy for you. it was quite easy to let them…

even easier to fall into the arms of a beautiful woman with black wavy hair and caramel eyes. her hands were warm, not like shane’s ice cold ones, and her kisses were soft, not like shane’s, which had knocked your breath out of your lungs.

why were you still thinking about her?

she was beautiful. and kind. and seemed to really like you. and the coke she had offered you only made it all seem better.

you pushed her closer, kissed her harder, until her tongue was breaching your lips and her touch became rougher, grabbing at your ass and making you moan.

yes. this was what you needed.

“come with me.” you muttered against her lips, taking her hand and pulling from her towards the club’s bathrooms, which oddly enough were empty. you kissed her as you walked her into one of the cubicles, closing the door behind your back and locking it. you were high out of your mind. and so drunk everything looked like in a daydream. you two made out until your lungs were pleading for oxygen and she was getting on her knees, pushing up your dress and pulling aside you panties to dive in between your thighs. you sighed at the feeling of her tongue, your back pressed against one of the walls of the bathroom stalls. you were sure this wasn’t the first indecent act they’ve seen before. and as good as it felt… you couldn’t feel good. not when she sucked on your clit, or when her fingers pushed inside to fuck you open.

so after a while, you started to fake it. so it could just be over and you could get back to drinking. or maybe finally get home. who cares.

lucky enough your seemed to be good at faking your orgasm, ‘cause she was smiling against your lips once she had gotten back on her feet. “let me buy you another drink, hm?” she offered.

and once again, you couldn’t say no.

-

you were absolutely and utterly fucked up. you couldn’t even walk straight. and if you could even think, you’d for sure wonder how were you even walking right now.

“come on, we’re almost there.” that sultry soft voice filled your ears.

oh yeah, maybe it was because of the gentle hands that kept you upright.

you looked at your right, and her greenish eyes were staring straight as you. you scoffed. “not you…” more like slurred.

of course it would be shane mccutcheon.

“what are you doing here?” you inquired her, feeling her touch burn your skin there where she held you.

“you’re fucked up.” she ignored you, and you laughed, shaking your head on a nod that had you feeling dizzy.

how she had found you? you had no idea. maybe it had to be with marina ferrer, her friend’s local that you had ended up on this late in the middle of the night, sniffing coke until you felt your nose would start bleeding. you couldn’t really take a moment to think about that possibility at that moment. not when she looked so good.

“how much did you take?” she asked, and you laughed, shrugging your shoulders as you let her wide you up the stairs of her house’s porch.

“not enough it seems.” ‘cause you’re still here, and i can’t stop thinking about you and it’s killing me. you could’ve said. but instead you silenced yourself, watching her slide the key in the lock and open the door for the two of you. “i was having fun. you ruined it.” you sighed, your blown out eyes squinting at the intensity of the lights she had just turned on.

“what, with that girl you were with?” you looked at her, and her face looked serious, deadly even.

“actually yeah.”

“you fucked her?”

you scoffed, looking at her with an incredulous face. “why the fuck do you care?”

“did you. fuck her.” she repeated, slower and you took a deep breath.

“yeah. i did.” you stared at her unchanging face, her strong façade. you wanted to punch it to pieces. why was she asking about this? she had fucked you. you were just one more stupid girl on her list. so why?

“what did she do?” her voice broke the silence after a beat, maybe two. the air was thick.

“what?”

“you heard me. what did she do to you?” you huffed.

“you’re unbelievable.” you shook your head.

“i’m the unbelievable one? you were so sad that you went off and fucked some girl at the club?”

“i guess i’m fucked up like that.” you shrugged and she sighed. “reminds me of someone i know.” you smirked.

“you’re a fucking kid.”

“oh yeah? well you didn’t mind me being a kid when you were eating me out.”

“jesus christ.” she muttered and you rolled your eyes.

“im too high for this shit.” you went ahead and tried to scurry yourself away from her but she was quick enough to stop you, her strong grip surrounding your wrist. you were closer than before. you could smell her stupidly attractive perfume, see the little lines that decorated her face, the freckles she’d gotten due to the numerous summers under the sun…

“but not high enough to get fucked?” she spat, and you looked at her with an incredulous face. “did it feel good? did she make you cum? did she make you feel like i did?” your lips were sealed as she pushed you against the wall, her breath mangling with yours.

“and what if she did?” you inquired, your eyes on hers, and she smirked, her tongue poking the inside of her cheek. you gasped at the sudden feeling of one of her hands sliding in between your thighs, her fingertips trailing over the wet patch on your panties, which she had managed to create in just a couple of minutes. she hadn’t even touched you, jesus christ.

“but did she?” you bit down on your lip, feeling the painful need of an orgasm that never came. “poor thing. of course not. no one can make you feel like i do, isn’t that right, doll?” you let out a sigh as you felt her fingers rub up and down your sticky folds, drenching the cloth of your underwear.

“fuck you.” you spat and she chuckled.

“you wish.” she muttered just centimeters away from your lips. you unconsciously chased after her when she brushed her plump lips against yours, gasping as her free hand came up to surround your neck and keep you in place. you shivered when she found the crook on your neck and made her way up to your ear. “but you’ve already got that other girl to do that, don’t you?” and just like that she let go of you, leaving the air surrounding you now empty and cold on her absence. “left a pillow and a blanket for you on the sofa.” that was the last thing she said before closing the door of her room behind her back, not even giving you a goodbye.

and you just knew by the way your head was starting to pound that you’d have a hell of a hangover tomorrow morning.

-

next time you saw shane was while you were out partying. again. if you didn’t go out you’d be too deep into your head. it would mess you up. ‘cause you missed her. so fucking badly it was actually ripping you to pieces.

of course, it was a friday night. and you knew what that meant. you were at marina’s local, who welcomed you with a hug and a worried look on her face that you dismissed. she could see shane on your eyes, could feel her on your touch. she had branded you. and now you were following her steps. she just hoped history wouldn’t repeat itself this time.

“she’s here.” she muttered on your ear, more like a warning, a heads up. but you already knew that. shane indulged on a couple of drinks herself every friday. that’s why you’d come ready, on a tight black night dress that made your curves show and your tits almost overflow its cups. your heels were bloody red, just like your lips, and your eyes were smudged in black eyeliner, making them pop.

“thanks marina.” you gave her a sweet smile before wandering off into the crowd and perching yourself on the bar, asking for a couple of shots and a lemon vodka.

the alcohol burned your throat, warming up your body. by the time you threw yourself into the dancing crowd you could feel her eyes on you. you were the center of attention. you looked good, and you knew it. you talked and laughed, and danced with girls and boys until your feet hurt.

you didn’t know how many drinks you’ve had, but you felt lethargic and euphoric. you could feel the music seeping into your skin and vibrating your soul. your hips moved to the rhythm of the song, your back arching as you played with your hair. you had everyone on a trance, like a siren calling for the sailors, menacing with their drowning. but who could help themself? shane surely couldn’t.

she hated her guts. for being drawn to you, to the light like a moth would. but her hands had found your hips, and your warmth ignited her skin on fire. you always did this. always hung in front of her like the perfect bait, the perfect sin. and she wanted to sink her teeth into you, so badly…

you sighed when you felt her touch. you knew it was her. you could know her by touch alone. how couldn’t you? you could breath her.

your back rested against her chest, her mouth on your neck.

“everyone’s looking at you.” she muttered, and you chuckled, one of your hands lacing on her hair when she left a soft kiss on your suple skin.

“i just want you.” you said. there was alcohol running through your veins. but there was something about shane. only her had the power to leave you completely sober but high at the same time. a mixture of impossibility that had you breathless and in need of more.

“you can’t keep playing with me.” one of her hands surrounded you to pull you closer, palm resting against your stomach, her crotch against your ass. your senses felt overstimulated by her. all you could feel was her, all you could smell was her, all you could think was her.

shane, shane, shane…

“i thought you liked the game. you know… the one in which you pretend you don’t want it as much as i do.” you muttered against her lips, your eyes meeting her green ones.

it was like a game of chess. one wrong move and the king could fall. but isn’t that what you wanted? what she wanted?

you pulled away from her, your hand taking the one that rested on your stomach as you stepped away from her touch.

“what’s your move, shane?”

-

“you drive me crazy.” she muttered against your lips, her hands newly on your hips, your back against the door of her house, which encapsulated the two of you in a game of tug and let go. “you don’t know what you do to me.” she whined, and you were pulling from the buttons on her shirt, simply pushing it over her head to leave her chest bare to your hungry eyes. she tilted her head back with a silent moan when your mouth found her sensitive nipples, sucking and teasing them with your fingers. “your father’s gonna kill us.” you hummed, looking up at her. the way you prettily tongued at her chest, how your doe eyes stared into her half-lidded ones, how your pink and plump lips surrounded her nipples… she was fucked.

“we’re already dead.” you muttered against her mouth as you pulled up your dress, getting rid of it to show her the lingerie you wore underneath.

shane groaned, pulling you from your neck to meet your tongue. you sighed in relief in her mouth, opening up for her own, moaning at the feeling of the kisses you swore took all your breath away.

the two of you gripped at each other as if you were drowning and you were each others life saver.

somehow, you made your way to her bedroom, your back arching at the wet kisses shane left on your neck and breasts, but her hands left your body as she fell back first onto her bed. you got onto your knees, and jesus, now shane could believe in god. she wetted her lips, her intense stare on you as you unbuttoned her jeans. you bit down on your bottom one as the zip lowered, looking at her as if you were begging. you didn’t have to. shane was rising her hips for you to pull down her pants and underwear down and off her legs. she felt blessed.

your mouth watered as you stared in between her thighs, she was soaked, and so fucking beautiful. your hands found her skin to spread her apart further and she sighed. there was no need to talk. your bodies did all the talking for you. and you owed her an orgasm.

her hand on your hair was the cue to dive in between her thighs.

“fuuuck.” she cursed at the feeling of your tongue. she already knew you could use it with your words, but this… “we really shouldn’t be doing this.” she said, but when you sucked on her clit, she only contradicted herself by pulling you closer against her core. “shit. don’t stop.” you moaned, your fingers digging on her flesh as you buried yourself impossibly closer in between her folds, lapping at her arousal in long strips and flicking your tongue against her puffy clit.

shane tasted heavenly. she was like a drug, the more you took the more you needed her. you pushed her legs over your shoulders for better accessibility as one of your hands made your way under your chin so your fingers could meet her entrance. her hips pushed against your touch, almost as if she was begging for you to touch her, to make her cum. and who were you to say no to her?

shane moaned when you thrusted your middle and ring finger into her pussy, her tight and warm slick walls squeezing your fingers in a heart-like rhythm. you needed to hear more of her like this. you could get high on it, maybe even cum as her pretty voice filled the room.

“fuck baby, yeah, just like that. so good. good girl.” she praised when you curled them to find that spongey spot that left her light-headed. your tongue toyed with her clit meanwhile, the stimulation driving her closer to her long awaited release.

you whimpered at her words, your cunt throbbing in need as you humped you own heels for some kind of friction.

“i’m gonna cum. gonna cum all over that pretty face of yours, fuck.” she gasped, her hips subconsciously thrusting against your fingers and tongue.

you got impatient, driven by the need to taste her on your tongue, curling your fingers faster, sucking on her clit harder, until you felt her hold on your hair tighten and her thighs tremble, a moan leaving her mouth as she fell apart, soaking your chin and lips and filling your mouth.

you hummed, fucking her through it until the very last drop of her cum had been drank. you let her go with a soft kiss to her clit, licking your fingers clean under her intense and hungry stare. shane sat up, guiding you up onto your feet, looking up at you with a desire that threatened with breaking your bones.

her eyes ranked up and down your body, still clad in lingerie. her hands found your waist, pulling you so close you ended up falling on her lap, her mouth on your chest and neck, sucking new bruises that you’d wear like a jewel.

“shane…” you whined, and she understood, one of her hands easily getting rid of the clasp of your bra, throwing it aside to suck on your tits and pierced nipples. “fuck…” you toyed with her brunette hair, tugging at her strands in pleasure, your hips thrusting against her own in need of release.

“want to fuck you so bad, baby.“ she groaned, one of her hands cupping your pussy over your panties, her fingers easily finding and playing with your clit.

“then do it. shit. fuck me, shane. fuck me.” you whined, and with that she was flipping you over and burying you on the sheets, practically ripping your panties off of you. her fingers didn’t wait to part your soaked lips. she grunted, burying her face on your neck.

“so fucking wet…” she almost whined, and your nails dug on her back.

“shane, please…” you begged. it hurt. it hurt so bad. this need you had for her, this hunger that only her could satiate…

“shh, i got you baby. i got you.” she promised, making you whimper and gasp as she thrusted her fingers inside of your welcoming and sopping cunt. “so warm and ready for me…”

your jaw fell slack as she plunged them deeper, her lips kissing the side of it. the squelches of your slick as she started moving them in and out of you making you blush.

“you hear her baby? so needy…” she muttered against your skin, her hips thrusting against your hand and making her fingers reach your cervix.

“shane!” you screamed at the roughness of her movements, the curling of her digits straight onto your g spot. your legs surrounded her hips to bring her closer.

“so fucking pretty screaming my name…” she sighed, her free hand coming up to surround and squeeze your neck.

“i’m not gonna last…” you cried out, the constant abuse on your g spot making you feel dizzy. the warmth of your upcoming orgasm expanding through your lower stomach.

“hold it. i want you to cum on my pussy.” she ordered, pulling away from you and pulling out her fingers from your gaping core. you cried out, feeling your release subsiding.

your watery eyes stared up at her as she made a quick work of positioning your legs and herself in between them. she held one of your own as she sunk down against your pussy, the feeling making the two of you moan and grunt.

“fuck. you feel so good…” she gasped, thrusting against you, making your clits catch and getting out a whimper from your chest.

“shane, shane, shane…” you chanted her name like a prayer to a god, your own hips twitching against hers for more friction. squelching sounds of your pussies gliding against the other filled the air, along with your moans and whimpers. “i can’t. can’t. i’m gonna cum!” you cried out, feeling with every hump your release growing closer.

“cum for me, let me see it fucking drip.” she grunted with a harsh thrust. and with that you were falling apart under her. your orgasm hitting you like a tidal wave and drowning you in pleasure. “thaat’s it. good girl. good fucking girl.” she moaned. “fuck. you’re soaking my pussy so good baby. so fucking good.”

“shit. you’re gonna make me cum again. gonna make me cream your pussy. fuck, fuck, fuck. i’m gonna fill you up baby, im gonna-“

due to her recent orgasm she was sensitive. so fucking sensitive that with the sight of your pretty face cumming for her, and the moaning of her name falling from your lips brought her to her second orgasm of the night.

…

the king had fallen. and the game was over. or was it?

-

a/n; this took so long to write omg😭. but i’m actually happy w it??? hope y’all enjoyed it❤️

[ce1estiall]

i could fall in love

summary paige x reader you and paige both reconnect. masterlist.

warnings angst, happy ending, slight fluff

celestial notes hey guys! i couldn’t resist so i wrote this fic last night 😅 enjoy!

“cause i could take you in my arms, and never let you go

i could fall in love with you.” i could fall in love - selena

days had passed since your interaction with paige. you were heartbroken, but you never dated her? you skipped your classes, haven’t been eating, haven’t gone to her games, haven’t been sleeping and bedrotting most of the day.

one evening during a crying session, you heard a knock at your door. a feeling in your body told you to not answer, but you got out of bed and opened the door. it was azzi, one of paige’s close friends and teammates.

“oh my god?” azzi’s said as she saw you. you had a messy bun, oversized hoodie with tear stains, and grey sweatpants on. azzi gave you a hug, which soothed your feelings temporarily. “can i come in?”

“of course.” you said, wiping a tear. you closed the door behind her, immediately sitting down on your grey couch. azzi plopped herself next to you.

next moment you know, you just bursted like a soda can thats been shaken. you cried in azzi’s arms for a good 10 minutes. after pulling yourself together, you got yourself up and looked at azzi.

“paige told me her side of the story.” azzi said, rubbing your back as comfort. “can i hear yours?”

you talked to azzi about the situation, how paige’s mixed signals were driving you crazy. you spoke to azzi like it was your last day on earth and didn’t have enough time left.

“i don’t understand why she would lead you on or play with your feelings.” azzi thought. “that’s not usually like her.”

“well i’m just as confused as you, az.” you cracked a smile.

“wanna come to my place? kk is in my dorm today, so is sarah and aubrey.” you had a soft smile. “that would be great.”

as you walked in, you were greeted with the sound of kk and aubrey, acting insane on tiktok live. when they saw you entered the room, they ended it immediately. “hey girly pops we’re gonna head out. say bye azzi!” azzi waved goodbye as aubrey made a silly face. you just stood there until they were done.

“give me a hug girly.” kk said, running to you. “i swear to god i’m gonna run a fade with that white girl. you need to tell us what exactly happened.”

and so you did, for what felt like the 100th time. you saw aubrey’s and kk’s body language and understood that what paige did, was a low blow.

“look. i think paige is trying to convince herself that she doesn’t like you.” aubrey stated. you gave her a look of confusion. “well, what do you mean?”

you sat next to her. “i know that you and paige have known each other since you were both kids. my guess is she fell for you throughout high school and the beginning of college. she’s trying to date other girls to get you off her head. because lets be real, you are all she thinks about. day and night, practice and game days. i think paige is afraid you won’t be satisfied with her when you guys date, and she won’t be able to give you what you want.”

aubrey continued, think critically about what she wanted to say. “paige also isn’t really happy with the girl she’s saying. they’ve been complicated. i think she’s desperate but as a collective unit, you didn’t hear that from me.”

aubrey’s words felt like a warm cozy blanket. her advice not only helped you, but saw a different point of view in paige’s situation.

you started brainstorming on what to do. do you talk to paige? do you ignore her and let the 7 years of friendship go to waste? you felt like you were in a maze, and there was no way out.

“but now i’m stuck. do i move on? do i talk to her? ignore her?” you put your hands around your skull, feeling like you were going insane.

azzi started this time. “i think if you faced her, as you are her biggest problem, she’ll be honest about how she’s feeling. she’s usually transparent 90% of the time when it comes to dating and stuff like this.”

“i gotta pay yall back somehow. thanks guys for being my therapist.” you said as you were heading out the door. you heard kk shout “you know we love you!” which made you smile.

you decided to be brave and text paige first. your plan was to meet up at a small restaurant near storrs to discuss both of each other’s feelings.

you took a deep breath and let your fingers do the magic.

you: “hey paige, i think we need to talk. meet me at olivia’s bistro for dinner so we can discuss.”

you closed your eyes and hit sent. you started overthinking. “what the fuck did i just do?”

you heard a ding, and were too afraid to see what notification it was, even though you had a gut feeling oh who it was. you looked at it, knowing you were gonna face her one way or another.

pb5: hey, yeah i’d like that. does 6pm work? practice was earlier today

you: yes thats fine

you went back to your dorm and finally decided to pull yourself together. you cleaned your dirty, bedrotted room, took an everything shower, and put a decent amount of makeup on. you wore a crop top with a jacket and baggy jeans, deciding not to go all fancy since this wasn’t a date, just an encounter. you put your hair in half-up half-down, and quickly putting on some nike dunks.

the drive there was breathtaking. you played your energy booster playlist while taking in the view. flowers started blooming in every direction you looked at, cherry blossoms falling down on some trees, and birds leaving shadows in the sky as they flew away.

you parked your car and headed inside. by your surprise, paige was there already.

she wore a white oversized tshirt with baggy, camo pants and some air forces. her hair was in a slick back bun, one of newest hairstyles.

her eyes lit up when she saw you. “hey.” she spoke quietly, getting up to give you a hug. god, how you missed that. you practically almost melted into her. she pulled your chair out for you. you whispered only loud enough for her to hear. “thank you.”

the waiter came, dropping off some chips and salsa, two waters, a diet coke for paige and a diet dr. pepper for you. paige remembered your favorite drink.

“thanks for ordering that for me, surprised you still remembered.” paige responded with a smile as she grabbed a chip. “of course, how could i forget.”

you addressed the elephant in the room immediately. “paige, i’ll start.” she relaxed, waiting for you.

“the day that i told you i fell for you, it felt like after that, you started running away. you didn’t text me or see me at all. azzi was the one who saw me. aubrey and kk checked up on me. i was in a shitty place, paige. you had me questioning my self-worth, on why i was so stupid to tell you how i felt if i was going to get hurt in return. i didn’t sleep, i didn’t eat or go to classes for 4 days. i just wished you checked up on me.” you spoke angrily, as a tear rolled down your cheek.

paige felt bad, you could tell in her face. she started to tear up when she heard your lecture towards her. “thats my peace.” you spoke, as you took a sip of your water.

paige then started. “i feel so incredibly bad for how i ignored you. i shouldn’t have done that.” she gulped.

“i told you about the girl i was seeing. she looked a lot liked you. same dark hair, same eyes, same style. i almost thought you were her. however, she didn’t treat me right and i wasn’t satisfied with her. she didn’t have your laugh, your smile, or personality, which is why i left her the day you told me how you felt. when i hung out with you at your dorm is when i felt satisfied, because i was with you. i avoided you because i was afraid i wouldn’t give you what you wanted. looking back, that’s just a shitty excuse. i’m so sorry how i made you felt. if i could turn back time, i would. i’ve liked you, i’ve always like you.” she paused her tears, leaning you in for a kiss. her lips felt sweet, knowing it was a true apology that came deep down. she didn’t care that she was in public. she just wanted to show your love to you, and she would do anything to prove that.

she smiled in her face of tears. you wiped them away with your hands. you placed more kissed on the line of tears that showed afterwards.

paige continued. “all i ask is for your forgiveness. you don’t have to like me back, you don’t have to talk to me anymore. i will understand.”

you looked at paige. “i went crazy a couple of days without you. i would not be able to survive without you.”

paige took your hand and started corressing your fingers with her thumb, eventually placing a kiss on your hand. “do you want to start this chapter with me? just the both of us, together.”

you intertwined fingers. “i love you paige.” you placed you hand your cheeks, rubbing gently. you were ready for new beginnings, as long as it was with paige.

[montybooks]

My writing game has been off- so i tried to write some aizawa x UA teacher! Reader smut, its smut but its cute at the same time? Im thinking of writing for

Present mic, edgeshot, fatgum, sir nighteye and maybe others

What we think?!

MINORS DNI

⸻

Title: “Empty Office Hours”

Pairing: Aizawa Shouta x Teacher!Reader

Rating: NSFW (18+)

Tags: Fluff & Smut, Office Sex, Tension Release, Soft Dom!Aizawa, Praise, Light Hair Pulling, Creampie, Aftercare

⸻

You were just trying to grade papers. Really. That was your story and you were sticking to it.

But it was hard to focus with him in the room.

Aizawa Shouta leaned against the doorframe of the empty faculty office, arms crossed over his chest, tired eyes fixed on you like he’d already read your mind and wasn’t impressed with what he saw. He said nothing at first, only watching. Like always. That unreadable, simmering look of his that made your throat tighten.

“Need help?” he asked finally, his voice a gravel-soft whisper.

You looked up slowly from your papers, your pen frozen mid-word. “Only if you’re good at grading essays on hero ethics.”

“I’m better at watching people squirm when they’ve been pretending they don’t want something.”

Your breath hitched—barely—but he caught it. Of course he did.

“I don’t know what you mean, Aizawa,” you said, setting your pen down with a forced calm. “I’m just doing my job.”

“You’re also looking at me like you want to do something else.”

You tried to bite back the flush spreading across your cheeks, but it was too late. He was already moving—slow, deliberate steps as he closed the door behind him with a soft click. Your heart jumped. That little sound felt dangerous.

He crossed the room and leaned over your desk, bracing himself on either side of your chair. His scent—coffee and clean laundry and something just him—wrapped around you like a noose.

“You think I haven’t noticed the way you look at me in meetings?” he murmured. “How your eyes drop to my hands when I talk. How you shift in your seat like you can’t get comfortable. Like you’re trying to squeeze your thighs together without anyone noticing.”

Your breath left you in a shaky exhale. “Maybe I was hoping you’d notice.”

His eyes darkened. “Careful. I might just act on that.”

You smiled—nervous, but full of something more. “Is that a promise?”

He kissed you before you could finish that grin.

It wasn’t a gentle kiss—not at first. It was all teeth and tension, weeks of stolen glances and bitten tongues spilling out in the way his hands gripped your waist, pulling you up from your chair and into his arms like he’d been holding back for way too long. You gasped against his mouth, arms wrapping around his neck as he guided you back until your hips hit the edge of the desk.

“Up,” he said, breath hot against your ear. “Desk. Now.”

You obeyed, gasping again as the cold surface met the back of your thighs. He stepped between your legs, lips trailing down your throat, hands pushing under your shirt with practiced hunger but surprising tenderness.

“You’ve been driving me crazy,” he muttered into your skin. “Every damn day.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair. “Then do something about it, Shouta.”

That name on your tongue made him groan, deep in his chest. One hand fumbled with your pants while the other cupped the back of your neck, tilting your head to kiss you again—softer this time. Sweeter. Like even in his hunger, he wanted you to know you were wanted. Needed.

The stretch of him inside you pulled a gasp from your lips. Your hands gripped his shoulders, anchoring yourself as he began to move—slow, deliberate thrusts that made your toes curl. He kissed your cheek, your jaw, whispered your name like a prayer.

“Feel that?” he breathed. “That’s what you do to me. Every time you smile at someone else. Every time you act like this isn’t what we both want.”

Your moan answered him.

He rocked into you, pace building, one hand fisting in your hair to pull your mouth back to his. Your kiss was messy now—needy, desperate. You broke apart only to gasp his name as your legs shook around his hips.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispered. “Let go. I’ve got you.”

And you did—shuddering in his arms as he held you through it, still moving, chasing his own release until he came with a low groan into your neck, arms wrapped tight around you like he never wanted to let go.

The office was quiet afterward—just the sound of both your breathing and the rustle of clothes as he pulled your shirt down and brushed your hair out of your face. Then, gently, he kissed your forehead.

“You okay?” he asked softly, brushing a thumb over your cheek.

You smiled, dreamy and dazed. “More than okay.”

He smirked, finally—just a hint. “Good. I don’t think we’ll get any work done the rest of the day.”

“Guess we’ll have to schedule another… staff meeting.”

His chuckle was low and warm against your skin.

⸻

Idek if this is any good

[michanvalentine]

I disagree with Astarion's observations on Petras

About him being an idiot I mean

Sure, he's not necessarily a bright spark, nor smooth & suave like Astarion

But

Petras isn't dumb, he's just in denial!

He's bought into Cazador's narratives, specifically "We're a family" & "You will ascend with me"

Because, if Petras were to see the reality of his situation, it would drive him to despair & hopelessness

Denial can be one hell of a coping mechanism

I do think Petras gets a lot less sympathy & understanding from the fandom than he deserves sometimes

Honestly? I don’t think Petras is exactly a brainiac, lol. BUT! That doesn’t mean your point about him being in denial is invalid! The two things aren’t mutually exclusive — in fact, they’re not even directly related. Quite the opposite.

Focusing solely on “Petras is an idiot” prevents us from noticing all the layered implications behind Astarion’s confrontation with his siblings. Context matters. Past experiences matter. Their mental states — both of them — matter. Especially in this case. There’s a lot to consider… and a lot to analyze! Yay!

So, let’s start with context. We know all the spawn are actively looking for Astarion, who somehow managed to escape Cazador’s grasp. We also know Cazador “motivated” them in his own way — though we don’t know exactly how often or how cruelly. And of course, we know he dangled the prospect of ascending together in front of their faces.

That alone provides meaning: “I’m enduring all this pain, all these humiliations, because there will be a reward at the end.” Freedom. It’s an incredibly powerful motivator.

Now, Astarion escapes. He gets free. Right in front of them — while they’re the ones left behind, still enduring the master’s wrath, partly because of him. I think that pisses Petras off — a lot (and not just him). Especially in a group that’s always been trained to tear each other down over even the smallest scrap of favoritism.

In this toxic dynamic, Astarion is the “arrogant spawn” — but also the weak one. The one who, after being buried alive for a year, stopped rebelling and simply obeyed. No more defiance, no more fight. And yet, with his peers? He never backed down. He kept acting like a smug bastard, maybe even a bully. Because he needed to. That arrogance was his armor — a hard outer shell meant to look strong while he crumbled on the inside, just like the others.

We can even imagine a past where Astarion taunted Petras about his intellect, played up the idea of him being dumb, just to make him feel smaller. But that doesn’t mean Petras is truly or irreparably stupid. Any excuse would’ve done the trick. The point wasn’t truth — it was power.

Power — whether wielded or endured — is an omnipresent dynamic when it comes to Astarion and vampires in general in Baldur’s Gate 3. Naturally, the one holding true power is Cazador, but his spawn — desperate, starved, and dehumanized — would do anything to taste even the faintest trace of it. To be able to manage even a crumb of that power, however fleeting. Just enough to regain some semblance of validity. “I exist too. I matter. My presence has an effect.”

Personally, I’ve always felt that during Astarion’s encounter with his siblings — and here I’m focusing in particular on Dalyria and Petras — all the old family dynamics come rushing back at once. Facing his brothers and sisters again, Astarion undergoes a kind of emotional regression, slipping right back into those familiar, dysfunctional patterns. Patterns the others, by the way, never left. By now, after centuries, they’ve become a sort of conventional language between them — twisted, but familiar.

And honestly, the way Petras and Astarion speak to each other suggests to me that Petras might have been Astarion’s “favorite victim” — the one who was easiest to bully, precisely because of his limited intellect. I put victim in quotation marks because it’s important to remember that in this context, they’re all victims — all of them ready to tear each other apart over the tiniest scrap of attention or power.

I’m also certain that, at times, alliances formed between them — temporary, bound to break, yes — but still, I believe every spawn had a sibling they preferred, and conversely, one they looked down on the most.

That’s where I think Petras and Astarion fit in. Their rivalry and mutual disdain seem to exist at an extreme — with the added tension, for Petras, that Astarion is clearly much more cunning than he is.

Within this climate of underlying tension unfolds the very encounter we’re discussing. It’s also worth noting that Dalyria seems to be the sibling with whom Astarion gets along better. This is especially evident when playing as Astarion — there’s a sense of mutual respect between them. Dalyria is even willing to trust him, particularly if you choose the right dialogue options — so much so that she actually asks Astarion to save them, all of them.

This, in turn, greatly irritates Petras — the brother who seems to despise Astarion the most on a personal level. He remains firmly attached to the idea of “family” and to Cazador’s empty promises, despite all the evidence to the contrary.

So when we analyze Petras’ behavior, we can’t ignore these foundations. It’s not just about stupidity. It’s about years and years of learned behavior, of indoctrination carved into them through fear, suffering, and the constant need to fight for survival — not only in the physical sense, but mentally too. Preserving one’s mind becomes a form of survival in a context like this.

And in that moment, the one trying to open Petras’ eyes is the very same brother who — for years — was a conniving bastard to him. So… why should he believe him?

On the other hand, Astarion, the sibling once seen as weak — and who’s now slipping back into old family dynamics — can’t wait to flaunt his new condition in front of the others: free from Cazador, immune to sunlight, finally in a position of overwhelming superiority. And god, does he love it! After centuries of rats and groveling at someone’s feet, it’s a feeling he’s desperate to experience to the fullest. Even better if he gets to do it in front of the bastards who mocked him, judged him, made him feel weak and unworthy.

And again — I say all this without assigning blame, because in this context, they’re all victims, each doing what they can to survive. The situation itself is so toxic that it brings out the worst in all of them.

So, let’s circle back to Petras. Saying he’s in denial — that his mind simply cannot conceive of a world other than the one Cazador, the true and only abuser, promised him — is not only accurate, it’s also entirely separate from intelligence.

Even the smartest person in the world could fall into that kind of psychological trap.

Trauma bonding is a psychological phenomenon that occurs in abusive relationships, especially when cycles of punishment and intermittent “kindness” or rewards are present. The victim becomes emotionally attached to the abuser — often as a means of survival — and begins to interpret control or domination as care, or even love.

That’s exactly what we see in Petras. He repeats Cazador’s mantras — “We’re a family,” “We will ascend together” — not because he’s foolish, but because these beliefs give him a sense of structure, purpose, and hope within a system that would otherwise be unbearable.

When reality is too painful, denial becomes a functional coping mechanism. It allows him to preserve a fragile identity and avoid psychological collapse.

Accepting the truth — that he has no agency, that he’s been groomed and used for centuries, that Cazador never saw him as anything but a tool — would be devastating. So Petras clings to the illusion.

I’d also like to offer another possible reading of Astarion. Astarion has just escaped that system. He’s angry. He’s raw. He’s trying to redefine himself outside of that web of domination.

So when Astarion sees Petras still clinging to the narrative — still echoing Cazador’s language about family and loyalty — it triggers not just anger, but also fear. Fear of where he might have ended up if he hadn’t managed to escape. And a fear that he’s not really as free as he wants to believe.

In trauma recovery, it’s common for survivors to project unresolved feelings onto others who remind them of their past selves. This could be another reason why Astarion’s bitterness toward Petras is so sharp. He’s not just disgusted by Petras — he’s disgusted by the part of himself that once believed Cazador’s lies too.

And in a twisted way, Petras represents safety. Predictability. The devil you know. That’s terrifying for someone like Astarion, who is desperately trying to reinvent himself.

In this readings, when he calls Petras an idiot, it’s not only about Petras. It’s also about how Astarion sees his former self.

I don’t want to go too far or overstate things… but there may also be a component of survivor’s guilt here. We got a glimpse of it when he first talks to Tav/Durge about his brothers and sisters, saying: “And now that I'm gone... I don't know... I pity the other six.”

Astarion escaped. He was “chosen” to ascend. He gained power, freedom, options. Petras didn’t. That disparity stings — and it’s easier to cope with that guilt by blaming the one who stayed than by mourning the systemic cruelty that kept him there.

So, even if the fandom often treats Petras as comic relief or a footnote, he is arguably a narrative foil to Astarion: someone who never broke free, who still lives inside the story Cazador wrote for him. And that makes him tragic, not pathetic.

He shows us what could have happened to Astarion if things had gone differently — or what might still happen if he doesn’t process his trauma with care.

Because — let’s not deny it — whether he’s aware of it or not, Astarion has internalized many of Cazador’s “lessons”, though unlike Petras, they tend to push him toward retracing his master’s footsteps, rather than clinging to him.

[howdoyouknowaboutgandalf]

Combining these two asks

Acts of Service

Different times Eddie displays his best spoken love language, acts of service, over the course of your relationship.

Bf!Eddie Munson to Dad!+Husband!Eddie

Tw: none really, pregnancy, fluff

Word count: 1100

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eddie as your boyfriend.

You and Eddie are lounging on his bed watching a movie that neither of you are really paying attention to. His arms are slung around your waist lazily while you sit in between his spread legs, your back to his chest. Hanging out at his place means you drink a substantial amount of soda and no water. You’re thirsty. So you go to sit up to get a glass before he stops you. “Where are you going?” he asks softly from behind. “Just getting some water, Teddy. I’ll be right back.” you answer as his arms unfold from your waist, but he doesn’t let you move. “Don’t get up, I’ll get it.” he assures.

At your place you and Eddie sit around, him on your bed scribbling something down in his notebook and you at your desk with a project you have been working on. You feel around the surface of your desk, but can’t find what you are needing. “Damn it.”, you whisper harshly. Eddie looks over to you with a calm, “What is it?”. “I left my glue over there.”, you reply. You start to push off the chair to stand but Eddie beats you to it. “I’ll get it. Sit back down.” he tells you.

Eddie as your husband.

Both of you are sitting on the couch of your shared home, it’s early afternoon and you decide to get some chores done. Eddie’s arm is slung over your shoulder while you both have books in your laps. You push yours to the side and stretch a bit before you rise to your feet. “Where are you going sweetheart?” Eddie asks looking up at you. “Just to do the dishes Teddy, they’ve been ‘soaking’ for like days now.”, you emphasize the word “soaking” with air quotes towards the end, poking at yours and Eddie’s lazy excuses. He rises to stand as well. He motions for you to sit back down, “Don’t get up. I’ll do it.”

You jerk awake to a splitting beeping sound. Shit. The smoke alarm is acting up again. You lay in bed contemplating whether to bother Eddie with it or get up and deal with it yourself, but in the process of deciding, you end up going with just covering your ears and hoping it will stop on its own. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t. You roll over with a groan, about to go deal with it, confused on how Eddie is still asleep, and frankly, kind of annoyed that he is. You hear a mumble from beside you on the bed. You couldn’t quite make it out, so you ask “what?” softly. Still groggy, but a little more coherent this time, he says, “Don’t get up. I’ll fix it.”

Eddie during your pregnancy.

You’re not too far along, but the cravings and the hunger have already hit full swing. Lately, it’s been ice cream, one of the more normal cravings you been having. You want ice cream, now, copious amounts. You are currently sitting surrounded by the laundry you have just finished folding on the couch. Eddie walks through the living room after finishing his chores to see you putting the folded laundry into a basket to put away later. He sits down on the now clear surface of the couch. You plop down next to him with an exaggerated sigh. “Wanna watch a movie?” you pose the idea to him. He responds, “Sure. Want some ice cream?”. You giggle at his (correct) assumption and nod. He has always been the most considerate husband. You don’t move very fast to get up, already knowing what he is going to say. “Don’t get up. I’ll get it”.

Later, you are near the end of your pregnancy, and dealing with the symptoms of your third trimester. Your feet are a bit swollen, your belly even more so, and your moods are significantly more unbalanced. You and Eddie are in the process of finishing up the nursery, him on the floor putting some more furniture together, and you painted musical notes of one of the walls; music being the theme for the nursery the two of you chose. The walls behind the design are a very light, gentle shade of pink, as you found out recently you are having a girl. You paint the last stroke and finish the painting, turning towards Eddie. Seeing your metal, all black wearing, tattooed husband with his messy bun contrast the soft, feminine look of the room brings a smile to your face. Suddenly overwhelmed with feelings, the tears start falling. Damn pregnancy hormones. Eddie hears your sniffling and gets up to comfort you. By this part of your pregnancy, he knows that nothing is actually wrong, so he just wraps you in a hug and coos quietly above you. You begin to calm down, and he leads you over to the rocking chair in the corner of the room. “Sit down honey. Take a rest.” he tells you. But having just sat down, you notice a spot on the wall near the floor that you missed with the paint. Eddie hears the chair creak and looks to you, knowing you are in fact not resting, and are getting up to do something. “What is it sweetheart?” he implores. “I missed a spot with the pink.”, you emphasize with a point. He grabs the bucket of paint. “Don’t get up. I’ll do it.”

Eddie once your baby girl is home.

You’ve put her down for bed in the bassinet near your own, and are now getting ready for bed yourself. You comb out your hair, and now you and Eddie are brushing your teeth side by side. Eddie finishes before you, and comes up behind you to wrap his arms around your middle. You complete your task and lean into his touch. “You’re so beautiful. Such a good mama.” he speaks with a gentle kiss to your jaw. You both quietly shuffle to get in bed, snuggling in to one another. Your little family is so content, so complete. Eddie runs his fingers through your hair while he holds you. It’s silent and still for a bit, before a soft whine from the bassinet fills the air. Eddie holds you in place, knowing that even the smallest of sounds from her will have you getting up out of bed. “She’s just fine, honey.” he whispers into your hairline. He’s correct for the next few minutes, before she begins crying. Eddie holds you still again, wanting you to get the sleep you need and deserve. His hushed voice reaches your ears, “Don’t get up. I’ll get her.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I really enjoyed writing this. So sorry it took me so long to finish. Feel free to request more for any of the characters I write for. :)

[thatlittlered]

i want you | logan howlett

warning(s): afab!reader if you really squint, cursing, immense and unbelievable heartbreak, spoilers for Logan (2017)

GIF by anonymous

author's note: I'm back where I came from writing x-men fanfiction and naming chapters after songs, life has truly come full circle. I could sit here and write some smut, talk about how much I want lick Logan (Hugh Jackman in general) from head to toe, OR I could break all of our hearts so guess what I chose :)

This is going to be a series so let me know if you want to be tagged.

-.-.-

It’s embarrassing; shameful, but he needs to have something.

Charles has to know about this little habit, somewhere in his few moments of clarity.

It’s practically morning when he comes back from work, but the water is running. He lingers; he always lingers when he realizes it’s you behind that door. He tells himself it’s typical animal behavior, he’ll guard you like the dog he is.

Today he’s not even good at that. His legs can’t hold him up any longer.

His feet take him to your room.

It’s probably the only part of this godforsaken place that smells nice. Almost feels like a real home in here, with your fresh cotton sheets and plush comforter. He won’t sully them, so he sits on the floor instead – a proper dog.

He should just fucking die already. Just send you off to a better life and die.

It’s what he deserves and long overdue.

You wouldn’t leave him though, and you most definitely wouldn’t leave Charles, or to be exact, what measly bits are left of both of them.

What a fucking waste.

You find him asleep there. Exhaustion took over when he leaned back against your bedframe, yet his body doesn’t seem at rest. Where can peace be found if not in sleep?

You sit next to him, now clad in soft pajamas and he’s already awakened by the smell of your shampoo before you call out to him.

“Logan?”

He blinks once, twice.

Even his eyes are not working properly these days. Always a little out of focus.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

He gives a half-grunt and moves to get up, but a brave hand on his thigh stops him. He surrenders to your insistence and the warmth of your fluffy carpet under him.

“I’m fine, just tired.”

“Of course, you are. You never sleep.”

He doesn’t answer.

“You can take my bed if the problem is the mattress.”

You watch him pinch his nose. Can’t be sure if he’s annoyed at you or himself.

“It’s not the fucking mattress, sweetheart, alright? I’m rotting from the inside out, no bed on earth can change that.”

You don’t quite know what to say to that.

It’s no secret to any of you that Logan has been struggling as of lately. He won’t speak of it, won’t ask for help. He's Atlas and the world is slipping.

“Did you need something?”

He doesn’t look you in the eye anymore, you notice.

“I was just checking up on you with how much time you spend in the shower. What do you even do in there?”

“I like it. It makes me feel normal.”

Logan merely hums in response. His hand reaches for the flask inside his pocket in a well-practiced motion.

“Is that whiskey?”

Of course it is.

You can make out his little smirk in the dim lighting. The odd little bit of humanity left in him that you always seem to attract. The tenderness they’ve tried time after time to rid him of.

“Can I have some?”

He watches you drink and lick your lips clean; admires your little frown at the taste. Decades alive and you’ll never grow used to it.

Your hands brush as you hand it back—an intentional act on your part—and he jumps. A shiver runs through him when it turns into a caress. Your hands are so much softer, so much gentler. A feather touch on his knuckles where the pus has begun to gather.

He should just fucking die.

“You should cut down on your hours. I can get a job, something part-time.”

His laugh is angry. It’s cruel and unnecessary.

He doesn’t mean to make you feel bad, but what does it matter?

“No need, bub. No point in it either.”

“You can’t go on like this, you know that.”

He drinks and drinks until the flask is almost empty.

“You should go somewhere else entirely; somewhere they won’t find you easily. Maybe your trouble will be worth something there.”

Maybe you’ll even have a life there.

“Is that what you think? That I’m here out of necessity?”

Logan chuckles, but there’s no humor in it.

“That’s why we’re all here, doll, but you- it could work. You should leave.”

Leave him. Never look back.

“It won’t. I won’t – I can’t.”

Something invisible tugs at his heart. Your glassy eyes, your loyalty.

Argos waited for Ulysses till death. For which master do you endure?

“For what? For whom, Charles? He’s barely even himself anymore, he doesn’t recognize you half the time. What’s the point?”

“So, he’s right, you’re just waiting for him to die.”

He falls silent again. The words cut deep.

“What about you, Logan?”

“What about me?”

“I should just leave you behind?”

It can’t be the heat, it has to be the alcohol, but the air is getting thicker in here.

He practically tears his suit jacket off. He’s usually nicer than this, always respectful of your efforts. The neat way you iron his shirts. Your ways of taking care of him.

The booze has started to get to him lately, as every other thing. He feels it now as it slurs his mind and speech. A shadow of his former self in every way.

It makes it even harder to look at you.

“I’m dead fucking weight. If you knew what’s right for you, you’d run and never look back at this shithole… you certainly don’t need me either.”

“I don’t stay because I need you, Logan. I stay because I love you.”

It’s hard to breathe. There’s unease in the way he holds your gaze and he almost looks small for a second. It doesn’t last. He’s quickly an animal again, now wounded and hurting. His growl is sign enough.

“Don’t say that.”

“Logan-”

You reach for his hand, but he doesn’t let you. He tries to stand up. His legs don’t listen.

What a pathetic excuse of a man he’s become.

You reach for him again when he lands back on your floor.

His voice is small and quiet, “Shit, sweetheart. You can’t fucking say that to me.”

He’s practically shaking in anger. Or sadness. Whatever this is, it’s overwhelming.

It’s easy to give up and lean into you; face landing on the softness of your middle.

“You can’t-you can’t say that to me.”

He can hear your heartbeat so clearly, it’s almost deafening when he presses his ear to your stomach. Everything hurts.

“I love you.”

You see his eyes close gently.

He wants to lose all his other senses, if only for this moment, if only to focus solely on the softness of your skin. The gentleness of your fingers when they gather in his hair.

“It’s okay, Logan.”

He only looks up when you take his face in your hands. You can feel his breath on you. All you can do is look at each other. His hand comes up to your shirt and lifts it, just enough for his lips to touch there – just this once.

He only needs this one thing and he’ll be good for the rest of his pitiful, miserable life.

“I have things I need to do.”

You only nod.

You offer your hand, but he doesn’t take it, drags himself upwards instead. The moment of weakness has passed.

“I’m going out. You should get some rest, don’t forget to lock the door.”

There is no point in arguing or asking where he’s going. He needs to be away from you.

“I won’t.”

He nods back at you, but avoids your eyes as he leaves. He’ll sleep in the car tonight.

Just this one little thing might be enough.

[guulyya]

Hey!

I have something to post after #charlos breakup, it’s keeping my mind busy the idea of the first day of 16 in Maranello, where is no 55 anymore… idk it’s more likely platonic and desperate for both of them I would say. I can’t keep it myself so I have to let it out. Hope u like it, I will be very happy to read comments if there are any. xoxo

You can also find it here on ao3

Maranello day 1, 2025.

He would only let it ring 3 times and if he didn't answer, he would act like it had never happened.

But Charles wanted him to answer the call so badly. He had been here for years but this was the first time this place felt so strange and cold. How could someone take all the warmth with him when he left? The people around were the same, but everything felt was so different indeed. People called Charles the sun of this place but the real sun wasn't here right now...

"Hola!" - Charles closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the couch when he heard his voice. Thats it.

"H-hello! Its Charl-"

"I know who is this mate, come on. Whats up?" - you wont wanna know, Charles thought. But then he started talking with the safety felt from hearing his voice. They would talk about anything. They could still talk...right?

"Today is our first day here after the break. W-with new teammate. Everything feels so ridiculous Carlos. You not being here, not fighting together. The marketing meetings and other stuff will start soon. They're going to talk about the new car. The car.. we worked on together. I... I... umm. I wish you were here. This year. I don't know, everything feels so strange." - his thoughts were much more fluent, longer than this, but Charles couldn't find the right words. He missed him. He didn't know how to say it directly. And the silence on the other side grew longer as the seconds passed. With a little hysterical laugh - "I'm babbling again, aren't I? I shouldn't have called you. Sorry for bothe-"

"Charles..." - damn it. He even missed hearing his name. No one pronounced his name like Carlos did. They should have a little more time. Why did it have to be this short? He took a small breath, focued on him. - "..i miss you too."

Charles laughed softly. It was always like this. Carlos could hear even the things he didn't say.

- "The meetings here haven't started yet,”- Carlos contuined, “They're planning it for next week i guess. But ehm.. I was there in my dream today, you know? I was in red. And I was looking around wondering how this happened. I'm so hyped about here, I keep telling myself to get on with it, but I'm still there..in my dreams of course."

Charles’ face lifted with a broken smile. Both of them were desperate in that situation. You couldn't go to anyone and say that we don't want to seperate as teammates, no one would ever take you seriously. Therefore the decision was already made and they just obeyed.

"When I came here today, I had a kind of hope that I would find you in here you know. How ridiculous is this," Charles added, more like he was talking to himself, staring into space. -"As if you'll come out of somewhere by the time I open the door and everything will go back to how it was. Its stupid, eh? You're kilometers away from here."

"I didn't want to go, Charles. I never wanted to."

"I know..." his voice was helpless and quiet. Carlos was the one who was sent away, so was it selfish to call him and complain? But people always talked about those who left, no one cared about those who had to stay behind.

"Tell me a little about there," Carlos said, trying to change the subject "how's the weather? It's so cold here, I miss even the sunshine of the Maranello." Charles' eyes moved from the wall he was staring to the window, ironically today was gloomy.

"Today is cloudy. I can say it's the coldest day in a long time." Cold in every sense. But he didn't add that. He had already revealed so much. -"Guess what, they’ve pictured that new design to the wall at the entrance you know, and its so stupid, we would joke around it and laugh for like 3 days." - his murmured- "It's..its just so ridiculous that you're not here."

"You can still tell me you know..." Charles heard a deep breath from other line and Carlos add -“..I would listen to you for hours.” He remembered the sentences with a broken smile on his face. He knew. It was their thing. They could talk about anything, anytime, anywhere. But would the same thing happen now, on different teams, with different teammates?

Would Carlos talk to Alex for long hours and have ridiculous competations or playing chess? He realized for a moment that there was a pain in his chest when he think about it. Maybe the issue wasn't only Carlos was far away, but also he would be somewhere else with other people, person. Alex. Carlos is that type of person who can get on well with everyone. And what if they can never be the same again while he is on other team? With other teammate. That would mean losing Carlos. Charles couldn't stand the thought. The ache in his chest became more apparent. He had tried not to think about it all break. And he did good, he kept himself busy. But now he couldn’t avoid from these voices.

He got up from where he was sitting and felt that had to end this strange conversation before he got lost in the corridors of his mind.

"You're right. I'll send you its photo!" -He put his hands in his hair and ruffled it. -“I guess I have to go now. See you, Carl-”

“Charles…” - the same tone again. Charles leaned on the wall. He got overwhelmed. The jealousy was already too much to deal and other feelings were keep coming. But being around Carlos was always like that anyway. - “Just focus on your own performance, okay? No matter who is in front of you, you are a perfect teammate. And I… I am just going to another team, but I’ll be around. - Carlos took a little breath. He wanted to Charles understand. He was not going anywhere, leaving team didn't mean leaving him. He tried to say that but he couldn't find the words. Instead he continued -“Yes… I’ll be around. I’ll still beat you on chess and give you very hard time on the race.” Charles smiled softly. Carlos is just like that, he knew him very well to hear even his unspoken fears.

“Yeah you wish…”- he add mockingly “Thank you. You were the best tho. Best teammate. And I mean it. I can’t wait to race for wins against you soon.” - he heard Carlos’ laughter from the other side of the line. And that somehow felt like light of sun.

“Sure, sure. Whatever, I’ll let you go now. Good luck for today.”

“Okay. Thanks. See you.”

“See you.”

After finishing the call, Charles sent a photo of the stupid design and started the messaging that would last all day.

Maybe Carlos was right, maybe this wouldn’t be end.

[starweaversguidetothehazbinhotel]

A silly prompt for Pride month that I don’t have the energy to actually write. Feel free to borrow if you need inspo.

————

While the hotel (and most of Hell) are gearing up for pride month, Alastor learns that both Husk and Lucifer are Pansexuals.

Now; as a man who doesn’t even know he- himself is Ace….our poor deer completely misunderstands and takes the “pan” part literally.

This misconception is prompted/further encouraged by Angel. (who thinks the entire thing is f*ckin hilarious). In order to stir up extra shit, the pornstar tells Alastor aallllll about the kitchen items and ingredients he’s had to use in films before. Even with a permanent smile, it’s impossible for Alastor to mask his horror. Angel’s impromptu lesson in “pan-sex” leaves him shaken and filled with revulsion. Seriously- how unhygienic- he might be a cannibal, but he has standards! This entire time they’ve ALL been eating off those dishes!

Thoroughly convinced that Husk and Lucifer have a depraved fixation with kitchenware. Alastor, begins his crusade.

All the old pots and pans are thrown out and new ones purchased on Al’s dime. With Nifty’s help, the kitchen is scrubbed and bleached top to bottom and twice over. Finally- Alastor bans the king and his thrall from setting a single foot into his kitchen.

This… doesn’t not go over well. Especially where Lucifer is concerned. It’s not Alastor’s kitchen, it’s Charlie’s kitchen. A kitchen HE created and gifted to her (along with the rest of the building)

Of course Charlie tries to mediate (Al does do most of the cooking) but finds Alastor unwilling to share the reason behind his actions. Eventually, he confesses being concerned about cleanliness when preparing meals for everyone, but he refuses to elaborate any further. (His mama raised a gentleman after all. Discussing sexual depravity with a young lady would be uncouth… Especially in regards to her own father.)

Husk heeds the ban without hesitation. He’s still getting fed and it gets him out of dish-duty so he doesn’t really care. (And with the collar around his neck? It’s not like he has much of a choice.)

But Lucifer? Oh. He goes by the kitchen every chance he gets. That prissy deer want to act like Lucifer is unsanitary? Well- welcome to Hell b*tch. He uses pans and doesn’t wash them. He purposefully leaves crumbs on the counter. He opens cabinet doors and doesn’t close them. Lucifer even goes as far as to reorganize the spice rack by sent profile.

In response- any dishes or ingredients Lucifer used unsupervised are thrown out. And soon after, voodoo based wards are put up. Meticulously crafted to inflict pain on those who go further than chaste hand-holding within the kitchen’s bounds. Yet- despite his many visits to the kitchen - Lucifer never triggers the wards. Something that is absolutely baffling to Alastor… was the king really just cooking? Or was he just biding his time now that he was being watched?

It’s hard for the Overlord to say because it wasn’t long before someone someone else discovered the spell on the kitchen.

A innocent good morning peck on Charlie’s cheek and suddenly the former exorcist’s hair is on fire.

Aaananndd. Now Charlie is calling an emergency meeting. The kitchen situation has gone too far. The wards need to come down, and staff members need to clean up after themselves. Turns out, Lucifer leaving dirty dishes and crumbs has been attracting roaches to the hotel. Which means Nifty is manic and extra stabby.

With everyone in agreement. It leaves Alastor with only one card left to play. If he can’t guarantee himself sex-free kitchenware. Then he is no longer willing to cook for anyone in the hotel. They can survive off of pancakes and takeout.

This threat is effective. Warm home-cooked meals have been one of the perks of living with the radio demon. Nobody wants to go back to cold-cut sandwiches and melted popsicles.

————

That’s all I got. Honestly, I’d like to see the misunderstanding resolved. Alastor learning more about his own sexuality…and maybe some soft radioapple.

But my brain is tired and I have no idea how to get there. Again, feel free to play with this idea or make suggestions.

[apomaro-mellow]

Runaway Royalty 3

Part 2

At the proposition, Steve and Robin shared a look during which an entire conversation was had.

It’s not a part of our plan. They’ve got numbers on us. They don’t seem like they’d leave us for dead. Especially if we joined. They’re the biggest threat on this trail. We can use them to get where we’re going.

“My sister and I are headed south”, Steve said. “Is your pack going that way?”

“We’re actually headed west”, a young man with curly hair said.

Steve and Robin shared a look again and the rogues around them were just as dumbfounded as the first time.

“Do you think this is normal for them?”, someone whispered.

“I know it’s not normal for me”, someone else muttered.

“We’ll go with you”, Robin answered, arms crossed. “But don’t expect us to be all cutthroat and deceptive and stuff.”

“Oh of course, not without introductions. Bandit Prince Eddie, at your service”, the alpha bowed. “My fellow rogues, Gareth, Jeffrey, Harold, I would trust them with my life.”

The three nodded their heads as their names were said. But they weren’t the only ones in the camp. Robin gestured to the rest milling about, going on as if there weren’t two newcomers to their den.

“And those guys?” They looked older. And significantly more rough than Eddie and his peers.

Eddie grinned. “Folks from my father’s old pack.”

“What happened to the Bandit King?”, Steve asked.

The man had been a scourge for decades both in the kingdom of Loch Nora and the kingdom of Forest Hills. His activity had calmed down somewhat in the past few years, but the legend was enough to keep travelers alert on the main roads, usually.

“My old man fell in love. And renounced his wicked ways.” Eddie gave Steve a meaningful look and for just a second, things seemed to stand still.

“We’re nearly ready to go”, one of the other members of the pack announced.

That was when the royal twins realized the activity going around the camp wasn’t just the pack moving about, they were packing up, getting ready to move. It made sense. One couldn’t be a roving band if they didn’t actually rove.

“Perfect”, Eddie said. “I want us in caravan formation.”

“You guys have formations?”, Robin questioned.

“Leading a pack takes strategy, whether you’re a leader of a household or of criminals.”

Steve and Robin rested on a large log for a few minutes while the last bits of camp were put away and then the whole group was off. Eddie walked towards the front of the pack. Robin and Steve walked alongside a horse-driven cart. Eddie talked with one of his friends, Jeff, but they couldn’t hear from where they were.

“Is this really a good idea?”, Robin asked.

“It is an idea”, Steve simply replied.

“Hey what was that back there?”, she suddenly changed the subject.

“Hm?”

“Don’t act coy, it looks stupid on you. You know what I mean. There was a moment where you and that Eddie guy-it was gross.”

“Oh grow up”, Steve rolled his eyes. “What’s wrong with a little romance? Aren’t we on an adventure?”

“Romance? With the prince of thieves? I should have never read those swashbuckling tales to you.”

“But you did”, Steve reminded her. “And now I can choose. So why not Eddie?”

Robin’s nose scrunched. “No accounting for taste, I suppose.”

“Please, you don’t know what it’s like. You basically had your choice of partners.” Everyone wanted the hand of the dashing alpha who would run day rule an entire kingdom. Compared to him, Robin left behind a veritable harem. Her betrothed hadn’t been chosen yet. Steve was the one who had been trapped.

They continued to walk until dusk, when they set up a temporary camp. The pack sat around the fire, winding down from a day’s travels, people forming their own little groups within it all. 

“Tomorrow some of us will head to town to get a few more supplies. After that, we’ll begin our journey in earnest. It’s time for the Corroded Coffin to find a new home!”

There were cheers and raised cups to that and even the prince and princess felt a little mirthful. They slept on bedrolls next to each other, it felt the beginning of a grand adventure indeed.

-----------------------

Eddie held the feed bucket up to the horse when Jeff came up to him. He knew the most pragmatic of their group approaching him could only mean a lecture, so he hoped to butter him up a bit.

“Jeffrey! The morning sun makes you glow like an angel from above~”

Jeff crossed his arms. “Why are you letting those two tag along? They were just supposed to be marks.”

Eddie knew that. Knew from their clothing that they came from money, or at least had it on them. It should have been nothing to overpower them and take whatever they wanted off the siblings. So why hadn’t they?

“I just think it’s a good idea to bring up our numbers. Can never have too many thieves”, he said, not meeting his friend’s gaze.

“And I’m sure it’s got nothing to do with one of them being a pretty omega?”

Eddie scoffed about three times before waving a hand and shaking his head. “Listen to you! Me! Getting all moon-eyed over someone I just met! That would be terribly ironic, would it not? Give me more credit, Jeff, please. I just think they would be great additions. And if I’m proven wrong, they can be just as good as scapegoats.”

“Riiiight.” Jeff leaned against the cart the horses were already attached to. “It wouldn’t just be ironic, you know. It would be stupidly hypocritical.”

Eddie swallowed. “Yeah, I know. Don’t worry about me. I’m not that flighty.”

“You’ve already taken flight once”, Jeff said before leaving Eddie to his feeding.

Once fed, Eddie decided it would be him, Gareth as well as their two newest recruits to go into town. “You both look the most reputable among us”, he had reasoned. “And I wanna see what you’re made of.”

The town was just over a small ridge and at this bright hour was bustling with activity. Eddie grinned as he found a mark. He leaned into Steve’s space. “Watch this”, he said before walking past a man, bumping shoulders briefly and walking off with his coin purse.

“The classic move. But Gareth here is a master at the art of misdirection”, Eddie said as Gareth got to work.

Steve and Robin watched Gareth when he walked up to a booth, distracting the merchant and seeming very interested in the fruit on one part of the booth while using his other hand to stuff nuts into a pouch at his side. In the end, Gareth traded a bit of coin for a few apples and the merchant was none the wiser.

“Alright, that was admittedly impressive”, Robin praised. “For common criminals”, she teased.

“Oh? You wanna show us how it’s done?”, Eddie smirked at the challenge.

Robin grabbed Steve’s wrist, much to his protest. What was she doing? They’d never stolen anything bigger than a pastry from the royal kitchens. And really was it stealing when it came from your own home?

“We can’t-”

“Yes we can, get out of your head. Besides, if you want to run with thieves, you’ve got to play the part”, she reminded him. “Just follow my lead.”

Robin’s eyes zeroed in on their target. An older gentleman, just by a few years it looked, was taking his time in choosing the proper produce between an orange carrot and a yellow one. Robin nudged Steve hard with her elbow and he rolled his eyes before going forward.

Neither Eddie nor Gareth could hear what he said, but it all came down to body language. The way the omega’s eyelashes fluttered, leaned over slightly, allowed his eyes to rake up and down the other man’s body, even putting his hand on his arm briefly. All while Robin tried to creep up from behind and reach into his pocket.

She was able to pull a handful of something, but flicked her wrist on the release too hard, making her presence known.

“Hey! What the hell!?”

Robin was frozen in her spot and Steve was the one to grab her arm and pull her through the crowd. Eddie and Gareth ran after as the man gave chase to reclaim what was stolen.

“You and your noodle hands! Do you undress a lover with those fingers!?”, Steve shouted as they raced away.

“These noodles fixed your wreck of a hair!”

They were able to turn a corner and lose him so that they could catch their breaths. Robin opened her hand to count their haul only to be met with a bunch of pebbles.

“What the fuck?”

The two practiced thieves cackled and nearly went to their knees. Tears in his eyes, Eddie stood up straight.

“You get points for effort. And Steve here gets a ribbon for his part.”

Robin rolled her eyes, about to retort that she played an equal part and it would have been a victorious haul had it been actual money when a fanfare of trumpets sounded. A crier began to shout as a crowd gathered.

Steve’s heart began to pound in his ears as only bits and pieces of the message were relayed to him and he felt the sensation of shackles around his ankles, or of sinking into mud, or being carried off by an undertow.

Prince Stephen, reported stolen, high reward…

Robin had to shake him out of his reverie. “Did you hear that?!”

“What? Yes. What?”

“Prince Edwin of Forest Hills is missing!”, she shouted to his face.

“What?”

“See, I knew you weren’t listening. Where do you think he’s gone?” Then she whispered. “Do you think it was cold feet?”

“How do two royal siblings go missing?”, Eddie asked the wind. His face appeared a tad pale. “Stolen? With Loch Nora’s defenses?”

“One royal is one thing, but two?”, Gareth agreed.

“Technically three”, Robin held up three fingers that Steve quickly slapped down.

Thankfully, their odd energy went unnoticed within the general unease of the crowd. Prince Stephen, Princess Robin, and Prince Edwin were unaccounted for. Steve swallowed.

“We should go.”

“Agreed”, Eddie said.

They actually grabbed a few things before returning to the camp, where Gareth promptly announced the news of the royal siblings’ disappearance. There was a confused murmur among them when a beta stood forward. Steve recalled his name was Greenley.

“We’re all thinking it, right? A prince and a princess missing? With a high reward?”

Eddie shook his head. “No.”

Robin froze and Steve bit his lip. “I also think no”, he said.

“That money could have us set for life!”

“Between us, we could find a couple of royals.”

“We got underground contacts!”

“No! NO!!”, Eddie roared, regaining control of the conversation. “Look, I know it’s tempting. But can’t take that risk. They’re probably spreading the message which means every bounty hunter from here to the shore is looking for them. Dangerous folk.”

“We’re supposed to be dangerous folk”, Gareth pointed out. 

“If use two new ones get a vote, that’s three for no”, Robin pointed to herself, Steve, and Eddie.

Steve nodded. “So three to…”, he started to count in earnest.

“You’re still outvoted”, Greenley said. “And since this is a majority rule, not a monarchy”, he glared at Eddie challengingly.

“He’s right”, Jeff said.

Eddie sighed. “Shit….shit shit fuck shit shit fuck”, he started to pace around. “If this goes sideways-”

“We’ll be so rich things can go whatever direction they want”, Gareth said.

“Gre~at”, Robin gave a tight smile.

“Perfect”, Steve’s smile was equally strained.

Part 4

[tenderwatches]

Ch. 38 of Lies We Tell Ourselves is up!

𐡸.:𐫱:.𐡷

chapter teaser

𐡸.:𐫱:.𐡷

chapter excerpt

Chapter 38: We Were Never Made to Run Forever

Jayce blinks awake to the light outside his window bleeding from the cool serenity of night into the frantic orange of dawn. Sensation returns to him in waves: his body cradled in his soft mattress, then the warmth of being swaddled in blankets. There is a presence of another in his arms; pressure against his chest, a weight settled against his hips.

Viktor.

His mind resolves this physical feeling with the same wonderful sense of revelation it always does when he remembers they have this now. He wonders if that awe will ever fade. In some small way he hopes not, but yet, there is a peace in imagining a future in which this is his every day. His partner is far from lost in gentle sleep currently. Instead, Viktor’s lips have found an ambling path across Jayce’s collarbones, teeth skimming like a rock skipping the surface of a pond in sharp little snaps of contact. The attention is unexpected enough that Jayce can’t help but let out a shuddery broken sound in response. His nerves spark past the hazy fog of sleep, encouraging in him a base, instinctual reaction. His brain comes alive with lazy pleasure, even as his awareness struggles to catch up.

Viktor acknowledges Jayce’s rousing with another sharp scrape of teeth up the tender side of his throat. His breath pants gently against the skin there with almost animalistic urgency. He sounds quite worked up, like he may have been lying like this for hours in the darkness of their room, wanting. The mental image is enough to spur Jayce into action, suddenly eager to make up for the time he’s lost whilst asleep. Jayce’s arms still feel heavy, giving this moment a dream-like quality as he moves them to cage Viktor’s frame against his own. He parts Viktor’s thighs and presses himself closer. Their bodies shift until they’re flush together, only the thin layer of their undergarments between them.

The heat of the contact shocks them both. Viktor’s body shudders into him, hips jumping forward to seek delicious friction. As suspected, he finds Viktor aroused already. Again, he imagines Viktor heavy with need, a bolt of fire to his rising desire. Heat and hardness move against him as Viktor treats them both to another glorious roll of his hips.

The noise that punches out of Jayce is low and rough, and he feels Viktor’s lips curve against his skin in a smile.

“Good morning,” Viktor whispers, his breath a caress that sends a wave of want careening through Jayce’s body.

Jayce can’t help but to laugh at the innocent greeting. He’s missed this—them—the lazy, perfect carnal desire between them. In these last few weeks, trials and the unpredictable progress in their work have consumed them both. Viktor has been sullen, quiet and focused. The doses of shimmer make him edgy, cold and more frustrated than ever.

Touches between them are always common; Jayce can’t help but reach for the other man, but the simple intimate pleasure of having Viktor in his arms has been noticeably absent.

This, of course, hasn’t been the end of the world. In the hectic race to find solutions, there are more important things to consider than sex. With the ever-present political shadow roiling behind them and constant roadblocks in their work, it’s no wonder they’ve both found themselves far too exhausted and distracted to do anything each night except exchange lazy kisses and fall asleep together.

But waking to Viktor, warm and interested, his thin hips now softly moving in desperate rolls devoid of any rhythm or intent, is enough to drive Jayce mad. There’s no denying how desperately a part of him aches for closeness, contact, and release.

Viktor too, he knows, must be frustrated by the distinct absence of physical intimacy. Jayce has started to recognise the shape of desire on his partner’s face, but acting on it has been unthinkable. The aftermath of their trials has left Viktor burnt out and hypersensitive. With no small reluctance, Viktor has reported even gentle contact sometimes feels like pressing a finger to a blade. This has only made Jayce, already acutely aware of their physical differences, more afraid he’ll hurt his partner as his body struggles to accommodate the increasing intensity of their work.

He’s just begun to ghost fingers along the line of Viktor’s spine when, in a fit of coughing, Viktor rips their morning intimacy apart. The shock of it is like plunging into ice-cold water. Jayce’s arms fall away, his breath stopping short. Viktor makes a furious noise and moves to the side of the mattress as his hands rake back through his hair, his chest heaving.

Viktor sits, curled into himself, striped by the orange burn of the sunlight as it spills in through the window and glints off the metal rivets of his spine. In the starkness of daylight, Jayce can see now how illness is ravaging his partner. He can nearly count Viktor’s ribs, and his skin is pale and waxy with illness, bones pressing against his joints so tightly that Viktor’s skin is bruised blue.

The sight makes him desperate to reach for the other man, to draw him back into the simple bubble of time they occupied just seconds before, where they could pretend they were just idle lovers, starting their day with simple delight, and not two men spending their time sparring with death for the precious prize of more time.

(Read the rest on AO3!)(Or start from the beginning!)

[britcision]

So I made it 4 years without being struck down by AO3 Author Curse! But here we are. I’ll spare y’all the details but let’s just say “fuck this year” and leave it there. We’ve had the requisite Third Bad Thing and I will burn the universe down if it goes for a fourth

What this means for y’all, of course, is that there’s been a long ass break between last chapter and this one! Aaaaand this one is being broken in half because it is Longer Than Tumblr Allows

(And they’ve lessened how many paragraph breaks you get cuz this one is only about 9.5k and it made me add it in thirds, woe is me)

So, as usual, links to the first chapter, last chapter, and the link to the AO3 version is I think in BOTH, so if you can’t find it from there I can’t help you 😁

First Chapter:

Last Chapter:

And just a little recap where last we left off:

Bruce has gone to the Watchtower to debrief the Justice League about Amity Park and the Anti Ecto Acts, and been told that Jason has left the land of the living! But like, on purpose

Jason and Danny have gone to visit Frostbite and learned that they are ghost-bonded, which you should take seriously like being ghost-married, and that Jason is gonna pop out Pitty in a couple more days/weeks and have to emotionally raise a ghost-baby

Tucker, Tim, and Conner are all playing video games and hiding out from the Amity Parker/Bat Chat for Tim and Tucker’s mutual stalking ways, which Sam blew wide open by sharing Timblr, as punishment for Tucker not telling her they were all alive

(Danny’s off the hook cuz Tucker was haunting his phone with soundtracks for half the day)

And Damian’s off being Sketchy And Mysterious

————————

Well You Did Get Down On One Knee (part 1)

The evening was beginning to draw in, the sun getting low over Gotham city. Between her patrol the night before, helping Signal out with a case, and then that brief group heart attack about Jason, it had already been a really long day.

Spoiler cracked her neck a couple times and sighed, then sunk into the shadow behind a gargoyle.

It was smaller than usual… and occupied. Robin glowered up at her, leaping up to sit on the gargoyle’s head instead. He looked for all the world like he wanted to hiss at her like a cranky cat, which diffused all of Spoiler’s tension (but would only make his worse if she mentioned it. Maybe tomorrow).

Sighing philosophically she settled back against the base of the gargoyle, tipping her head back to see him.

“Hey… what are you doing out so early? Usually you lot wait until sundown to swing from the shadows,” she pointed out (rather fairly, she thought). Totally ignoring that she was 1000% usually one of “you lot”.

Robin just scowled disdainfully down at her, then twisted his head away to glare at the city instead.

“As if I needed any more reason to be out than you do,” he sniffed archly.

Spoiler grinned, puffing herself up. She did have an answer for this one, and, being generous or not, winding Robin up was always a treat.

“Hey, I was actually requested today. Signal needed a second pair of eyes on the back door of a bust. Didn’t see you there,” she added innocently, a brow rising.

It was technically possible that Robin could have suited up and left the manor in between Bruce’s message and Tim’s response. Spoiler wouldn’t put money on it though.

He’d have had to be on his way down already, and while they could all change quickly, there were no rushed or sloppy patches to her experienced eye.

His hair was even neatly slicked back into the traditional Robin spikes, one every Robin but her and Duke had used during their time as the baby bird.

Nah, he’d not rushed out in a panic, even if he was still more tense than he should have been. Every line of the kid was tight with… Spoiler cocked her head thoughtfully.

Frustration?

Definitely not unusual, Damian didn’t have Dick’s temper but he’d spent pretty much all of his first few years in Gotham unbearably frustrated with them all. It had just been a while since she’d seen it so… visibly.

And for all Steph was a gleeful little shit and loved poking at trouble, she wasn’t cruel. There was no point in pushing Robin if he was already on edge.

So she shrugged nonchalantly and looked forward instead, reaching back over her head to pat him gently on the foot. He didn’t dodge, which only cemented her decision.

“‘Course, no rule against taking a daylight run if you’re in the mood. See anything interesting?” She asked innocently.

Kid wouldn’t admit it if he had been worrying.

Silence reigned for another long moment, and then Robin huffed and dropped down to the rooftop beside her, folding himself back into the sharper shadow the waning daylight provided.

“No.” Short and sweet, unlike the kid himself.

But he also hadn’t left, and Spoiler was gonna call that a win.

“Will you be out tonight too?” She asked instead of pushing, reminding herself yet again; he’d open up in his own time.

Hypothetically.

Robin made a soft, disgusted noise, glowering at the smog filled sky. Probably even in the right direction for the Watchtower.

“I intend to be. Someone must keep an eye on things,” he grumbled, and Spoiler made an effort not to take it personally.

B had been majorly distracted with all this Amity Park business, not even breathing down their necks about the usual nightly reports. The rogues hadn’t exactly noticed yet, but the goons had.

The big Bat himself not making an appearance for a couple of nights usually attracted some comment, and an up-til-now entirely Bat-free new year?

The guys she’d helped Signal grab today had been muttering about it right until they ran into her arms. Fists.

They’d mentioned not seeing Stabby Robin either though.

Which she might as well also mention.

“Weren’t you out last night too? I saw your gear missing when I dropped by at the end of the night,” she added when he tensed again, hands wedged in her utility belt. “Didn’t hear you on comms though.”

And that was more than just rude; it was bad protocol, and Robin, for all his other faults, respected the strictness of protocol. Not being chatty was one thing, but if you were out on the town you had to call in.

He stayed silent, not looking at her. Spoiler decided he could use just a little nudge. Totally not because she was getting impatient. And nosy.

“Y’know unless you went out tech free I can just ask Oracle,” she pointed out gently, giving his shoulder a gentle bump.

It got him to glower up at her anyway.

“I was not on patrol,” he grumbled, whites of his mask narrowed before returning his glare to the city at large, “like I am not today.”

When he didn’t elaborate, Spoiler flipped a mental coin. Figured why not; they were already doing well.

Kid must be on the verge of having to, dread the thought, ask for help.

“And what would you be doing out and about if not patrolling…” she began, then stopped when a piece clicked suddenly into place.

Robin, Damian, was about as social as a feral cat. And about as friendly with anyone who got close to those he considered his.

Right now, Danny Fenton and his friends had more than half the family utterly wound up. All except Bruce in a good way, Spoiler was the first to admit, but Robin wouldn’t see it like that.

The only trick was, how to word the question.

Spoiler liked blunt. It made her stand out from the bats, who all played way too much mental and emotional chicken to be healthy. She’d always been more of a bird that way.

“Wouldn’t have anything to do with Hood’s little disappearance today, would it?” She asked instead, grinning broadly when Robin twitched.

Hit the nail on the head.

From the scowl he shot her he knew it too, and looked away quickly enough that he knew there was no taking it back. He folded his arms across his chest and sulked and fuck he was just adorable.

She’d bet anything Dick used to pout exactly like that.

Still, she tempered the grin down to a slight smile. Dropped a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently and letting go when he pulled away.

“Worried me too. Were you close enough to see anything?” Because yeah, if Robin was already at least on his way into uniform before the message arrived?

Spoiler would put easy, easy money on him having been already tailing Jason and Danny around. Last night too, probably. She and Cass had left early to take the night shift, leaving Tim and Damian with the Amity Parkers.

Damian had one hell of a dose of his father’s paranoia, and Steph considered it a solemn duty to teach him about personal boundaries to keep him from turning out just like the old bat.

Just a little friendly stalking from the rooftops didn’t really count though. Not between family.

Robin had tensed right up again too, but when she didn’t push the contact or needle at him he slowly relaxed back down. Scowled at her feet instead of his own.

“No,” he admitted bitterly, both at definitely having been busted and probably at having nothing to report, “Todd… Hood spoke to the magician. They argued, he went back inside Freeze’s place and did not reappear when his tracker went through the roof and into the sky.”

Spoiler blinked, mildly surprised.

“Hood was wearing a tracker? Didn’t think he was in the mood.”

“He wasn’t,” Robin corrected with a derisive sniff.

And… yeah, they were gonna have to do a little more work on that whole “boundaries” thing. Although the odds of Hood not noticing that he’d been tagged were lower than Robin probably thought. Keeping a tag on him that he didn’t want there?

Nah. She may not exactly trust Jason, but that was how she knew how good he was at finding and disabling rogue trackers. And sure, Damian was better than her at some things, but if Cass couldn’t sneak a tracker onto Red Hood no one could.

Kinda cute that Jason let the little guy think he’d successfully bugged him.

At least the constant mild stalking was just standard for the family.

Shaking her head, she gave him a gentle nudge with her elbow.

“That’s rough. Flying’s cheating,” she commiserated with a sly look to the sky.

She’d heard a super cross Oracle’s radar. Conner, almost certainly if Robin was still out alone.

Too bad he’d not thought to call his own Superboy, though taking flight himself wouldn’t have helped if dimensional travel followed.

Robin made another disgusted little tut, then pushed off the gargoyle and stormed away. Spoiler watched him go for a moment, then shrugged.

“Hey, go get some sleep if you’re coming back out tonight,” she called after him. Grinned when he flipped her off without turning.

If he’d been off stalking Jason and Danny two days in a row, he’d need some rest.

“And don’t forget your report,” she teased and actually laughed when he raised his other hand to flip her off with both before leaping off the edge of the roof, swinging back towards the bat cave.

Stephanie Brown had never been prouder in her life than the first day Damian had said “fuck” in front of his dad. Far be it from her to demand anyone transform into a social butterfly, but she personally was pretty damn sure that nothing was gonna help Damian out of his “raised by assassins” shell than learning some good old fashioned swearwords.

And a little teenaged rebellion. The proudest day was totally gonna be when he finally told his grandfather to fuck off (or any suitable equivalent; Steph wasn’t choosy).

Leaning back into the gargoyle’s shadow, Spoiler surveyed the city below. Technically, she’d been out as long as Damian had; if she wanted to be out tonight she’d need a quick nap too.

Or, more fun, she could nip back to the manor, kidnap Cass, and they could find and bully Tim and Tucker in person. Yeah, that was gonna be it.

**

Jason was feeling good, really. Actually a little surprised at how good, considering.

That crunchy little ecto-ice chip had been better than a gallon of coffee, filling him with energy like he’d actually gotten a full night’s sleep. (Not that he knew much about how that actually felt, at least not when not recovering from serious injury.)

He hadn’t actually felt this good since the night Danny slept over, which had been the night before last. Didn’t sound all that impressive, except that it had been the best he’d felt in half a decade.

Maybe the full decade. For all Robin made him magic, skipping sleep to fight crime had done a number on him in his teens. If he’d been as willing as Dickie and Tim to slack on his schoolwork, maybe…

Yeah, no, Tim was the poster child for Do Not Emulate This Sleep Schedule.

What mattered was that even after running the docks down with Black Bat for more than half the night and then getting up to get Danny, Jason felt fucking great.

Even after three separate courses of Bruce’s bullshit, both directly and through the medium of John fucking Constantine. Not so long ago, Bruce would never even dare call him, much less try and set up a bat cave ambush. That… was probably technically a good sign?

Didn’t feel like one at the moment, but Jason actually felt almost good enough to be charitable with the old bat. A little emotionally wrung out, sure, but he felt lighter for… having whatever that had been. Like the stress that had been compacting his chest had finally eased.

Jason was self aware enough to admit he’d probably had more than one breakdown owed to him. Maybe not a “take to the bed”, “trip to the sea” full Victorian lady meltdown, but he’d had a whole baby dropped on him. Except somehow worse.

He damn well deserved that freak out, and now that it was over and he’d been given what kinda felt like the ghost equivalent of speed… He felt like his brain was finally working again.

Which… meant he was fully processing that his fucking soul was vibrating in time with Danny’s. And every other ghost could just. Tell.

That was gonna make fight club… actually, Jason had no idea what the fuck it was gonna make fight club. By all accounts Danny being the Ghost King hadn’t made any of them less likely to throw down with him.

If anything, Danny had warned Jason that him being a “young” ghost would make the others more eager to fight. It was a kind of play, bonding and teaching the new baby their powers.

Sounded fucking terrifying by all accounts and Jason was just glad he had Danny to explain it to him, since apparently full ghosts just… knew it wasn’t serious. Even baby ghosts came into existence recognising the game.

Halfas didn’t.

Whiiiich meant that all the “playful” threats of dismemberment had sounded pretty fucking real to Danny, back when he’d been a baby ghost and had half the Zone flocking to “play” with him.

Pitty let out a rumbly little growl, like a sulking dog and Jason hid a snicker. Yeah, he’d also be kicking their asses that little bit harder for that given half a chance.

Actually, if they kept holding fight club, Pitty could take a chunk out of them itself.

That thought got him a contented little purr, which was weird enough that Jason was going to focus back in on Frostbite’s broader explanation. Which… he should have been doing anyway. At least this part wasn’t solely for his benefit though.

“In the sense that you have tied yourselves together, it may be somewhat like a marriage… however, it is a very different relationship. In a true love-union, your signatures would beat in time,” the yeti explained, gesturing once more to the screen.

Jason’s blob continued to pulse and blur a fraction of a beat behind Danny’s. Definitely not quite in time.

This was a relief. Yup. And Jason’s cheeks definitely weren’t any warmer than they’d been a minute ago, before he knew that, again, his fucking soul was echoing Danny’s.

Frostbite gave his tablet a couple more taps, and a pulsing blue line linked the images on the screen.

“In your case, young knight, your allegiance is marked in both your resonance and in your aura, which now carries a link to your King. In this way, even if the Great One is not beside you, all ghosts will know that you are the chosen protector of their King. His status is what defines your role as a knight, instead of a more casual bond.”

“No one’s king yet,” Danny protested, folding his arms and leaning into Jason’s side. Letting a little more of his weight rest on him.

Jason leaned in too, frowning from the screen to Frostbite.

“And all the other ghosts can just… see this?” He asked, not really sure what he was hoping to be told.

Frostbite switched from giving Danny a fond smile back to Jason, nodding brightly.

“Oh yes. Ectoplasm is very easily influenced by emotion, and bonds can form quite quickly. I presume you took an oath?” He asked, eyes sparkling in a way that made Jason pretty damn sure he’d met Clockwork.

Which, now that he thought about it…

Jason huffed out another deep breath, running a hand through his hair. As much as John Fucking Constantine specifically could ride a cactus straight to Hell… the guy mighta had the faintest inkling of a point about one thing.

“Yeah… about that.” He pulled a face, gaze tracking away from the others and down to the floor.

Would they think he was a dumbass too? Danny had been there when Clockwork made the offer and he’d been pretty against it, but Jason had thought he understood why.

It hadn’t sounded anything like Constantine’s claims of what he’d signed up for.

In the end, it was easier to address the question to Frostbite’s large hairy toes.

“I, uh… I made an oath to Clockwork, but do I have… a contract or something? The asshole magician I mentioned earlier was going on and on about eternal fucking servitude bullshit but it’d be nice to have something to shove in his face,” he added quickly, arm slipping back and almost around Danny (but with his hand still firmly on the table).

He didn’t need to wait to feel the guilt in Danny’s aura to head it off.

Jason wasn’t having second thoughts. He wasn’t sorry for what he’d signed up for, and when it came right down to it…

He didn’t think people could lie through their auras. Even when he was trying to project something like “I’m fine” and he wasn’t, he was pretty sure Danny could tell.

He could sure as hell tell when Danny was bluffing through his, which had happened maybe once total.

He trusted Danny. He trusted Frostbite. He even mostly trusted Clockwork, because for all the guy had been a little sketchy, Jason had felt his sincerity. How deeply he cared for Danny.

Keeping Danny safe forever didn’t sound like eternal servitude. Eternal babysitting, maybe, if Danny was being a pain in the ass, but he’d never top Damian at his most bratty.

Jason woulda been trying to protect Danny anyway. As far as he knew, knighthood just made that easier.

Which was another reason he’d like a look at his contract. You didn’t make it onto the streets as Robin without learning to read for loopholes, hidden clauses, and fine print. He may have already signed on the dotted line, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t find some wiggle room.

Danny, about to say something either apologetic or self deprecating, huffed out a breath as Jason’s arm slipped around him. Winded up giving him a half smile instead.

“Yeah… that’s a good point. I still need to find out if I can fire your ass.”

“Still didn’t hire me,” Jason pointed out archly, bumping his arm to knock Danny forwards a little.

The other halfa huffed a laugh this time and bumped him back.

“Yeah, and I gotta work out how to hire you so I can then immediately fire you,” he shot back.

Frostbite cut them both off with a raised hand, though he still looked fondly amused. Like they were cute little kids or something stupid.

“You will have to discuss this with Clockwork directly, young knight, but I do not believe a knighthood typically comes with a contract. It is a duty one is granted, and one that may be rescinded if you fail, but it is not a deal,” he explained patiently.

Jason’s brows furrowed a little, but at least he could feel Danny’s confusion-puzzled-not sure beside him too. He wasn’t the only one who wasn’t quite sure what that meant.

Maybe he shoulda looked a little more into magic shit while he was with the League of Assassins. That would have been the time, especially if the Lazarus Pits were the just grunged ectoplasm.

“It kinda sounded like a deal when he offered it,” he said almost as a question, glancing back at Danny for confirmation.

Danny nodded. So it wasn’t just Jason.

“He gave me a cool magic gun in exchange for keeping Danny hale and hearty. Protecting him in the living and Infinite realms,” Jason added in case the wording counted, more sure as he remembered some of the reasons.

Fuck, had that only been a week ago? It felt like it’d been a whole year.

Frostbite gave them a neutral shrug, inclining his head.

“As I said, you will need to ask Clockwork directly. All I can tell you is that it is not innate to the position; a knighthood is not usually something bought and sold,” he explained patiently.

Danny hummed an agreement, cheek resting on Jason’s shoulder again.

“It’s normally all ghost-to-ghost too, so is there a way we can check if the halfa thing has changed it?” He asked Frostbite, leaning against the table too and totally not actually putting his arm around Jason back.

Jason felt a little more tension leech back out of him. Which raised another good point, actually.

“And not related or anything, but if you gave me a buncha those ice crystals could I just chew them to get the ecto for…” he hesitated, waving his free hand at his general chest area again.

Honestly, given half a chance he’d love to get a bowl full and try and pop the pit out in one go… it’d probably be easier to train from outside his body where it wouldn’t immediately know he was so full of shit… his own aura notwithstanding.

Yeah, he was still a little worried about being anyone’s emotional guide, but if he could just get the damn thing out in the world… maybe it could have other guides too.

“To answer the simpler question first, young knight, unfortunately the energized ectoplasm is only a short term boost and will not affect either of your cores. I will provide you with a small supply to assist your emotional control whilst you stabilize, if you wish?” Frostbite offered gently, a slight smile on his face.

Jason hesitated, considering things for a moment, then nodded. Sure, it wasn’t a solid “yes here is the answer to all your problems Jason just smack it in”, but it was a concrete solution to what had actually been worrying him.

Having another one of those weird “episodes”. He’d still be waiting to get Pitty all the way out, but at least he had a backup plan until then. He could pop an ecto-crystal each morning, get some energy, and worry less about night patrols.

Shit, he’d have more energy than he’d had since he died. The others were gonna be jealous as hell, but it wasn’t like they could steal and take his ghost meds. Probably.

Jason… wasn’t quite ready to think about the panic attack itself. He felt fine now, way better, and it wasn’t like it was the first he’d had.

Just…

Just the first that he remembered. That his heart started racing, his head rushing, ears filled with rushing static and the world hadn’t just melted into a green haze of blood and violence.

His early training with the League of Assassins had involved a lot of losing himself to the Pit. He’d wake up days later, body aching with exertions he couldn’t remember, and be told how many he’d killed.

Good news: no fear of that either, apparently. Pitty wasn’t pulling for control anymore, so the green haze was all Jason’s own.

Joy.

He had a nasty feeling that Danny would notice him spiralling from anywhere in Gotham. And probably ditch class to come check on him.

Like Hell. Jason’d fucking call Harley first, put himself through some breathing exercises or whatever, he did not need an emotional support Ghost King.

He gave Frostbite a quick nod, a small smile forming almost without thinking about it. The yeti was just… so caring and helpful. Not exactly something Jason had a wealth of experience with. He’d probably be a great example for Pitty.

Frostbite returned the smile, making a quick note on his tablet.

“And of course, your ghostly parent or a mentor should also be able to assist you. Spending time with those who are important to you, especially a comforting figure will help both your control and your core formation,” the yeti added in a slightly pointed way, like he’d read Jason’s mind, and Jason had to stifle a laugh.

Frostbite might be an eight foot tall hairy yeti, but he’d get along with Alfred like a house on fire… he was even as stubborn about not using their names as Alfred was about nicknames.

And when Jason thought about someone comforting, the beacon of emotional maturity and constraint… it could only be Alfred. He was more grandparent than parent, but certainly the only mentor Jason still looked up to. And a paragon of control besides.

Alfred could help him with Pitty. Model a little actual emotional restraint and control for the both of them. The only question was if Jason could just be up front and ask him, possibly revealing the secret early, or if he’d have to come up with an excuse for them to hang out.

Stupid thought. Jason knew damn well he could just walk into the kitchen and Alfred would be more than happy to spend time together. He wouldn’t need a ruse; he wouldn’t even need an excuse.

The knowledge settled warm and soft and happy inside him, until his brain caught up with his ears and stopped him short.

Wait.

“Ghost parent?” He asked cautiously, looking from Frostbite to Danny again. Danny pulled a face but Frostbite beat him to the punch.

“Ah, yes. We did not discuss that last time either. Your ghost parent, young knight, is the second strongest bond a young ghost can have. They are the ghost who welcomes you into the Infinite Realms, who will guide your steps and protect you until your own haunt has formed.”

Brows furrowing, Jason twisted to frown more directly at Danny, not quite sure if he was looking for confirmation or asking a question of his own.

Cuz, y’know, other than the whole “protecting until his haunt formed” (and Jason certainly didn’t need protecting), that sounded a lot like what Danny had been doing. Which would totally make it weird if Jason was a knight to his own ghost-dad.

Clearly following the same lines, Danny raised both hands and shook his head, almost but not quite stepping out of reach.

“Oh no, it’s not me. You’ve had a ghost parent long before I came along,” he said emphatically, the sudden panic on his face making Jason feel better about his own response to surprise parenthood.

He magnanimously decided not to tease Danny about it, turning instead to give Frostbite a questioning look.

“Should I know who my ghost parent is? Who gets to decide?” He asked cautiously. He’d never met another ghost before Danny, but he had this awful sinking feeling that Ra’s al Ghul might have more to do with the realms than just the pits, and he was the closest proxy. Even Tallia would be better. Maybe even Bruce.

Reading his tension, Frostbite clapped a massive furry hand on Jason’s shoulder, smile and aura both full of comfort-reassurance-calm.

“Normally yes young knight, though yours is a special case. Usually when a young ghost first finds its way to the realms, one of the first ghosts they encounter will take them under their wing. It is an honour to care for a young ghost, and a halfa even more so,” he explained gently.

Beside Jason, Danny snorted loudly.

“Oh, yeah, they totally come running to play happy families. Super wholesome,” he grumbled, arms folded as he leaned back into Jason’s weight.

Honestly, Jason could kinda spot common threads between what Frostbite just said and what Danny had told him about Fight Club; the play fighting was supposed to be about sharing powers, right? Just, y’know, between people with shit verbal communication to actually check in that everyone was on the same page.

The yeti sighed fondly, his hand moving from Jason’s shoulder to rest proudly on Danny’s. Given the width of Danny’s shoulders respective to the hand, the last two fingers were back on Jason’s other shoulder.

“Again, Great One, your circumstances were also exceptional. You did not explore the Ghost Zone until after you had established yourself to many as a competent fighter and protector of your haunt, which along with certain… adventures led most to believe you were far older than you are,” Frostbite explained patiently, with just the faintest hint that they’d been through this before.

Danny rolled his eyes and shot Jason double finger guns.

“Yyyyup, which is why I don’t have to deal with any of this “ghost parent” business,” he agreed brightly, tipping Jason a smirk, “get good.”

Jason flipped him off, but there was something… not in his aura, Frostbite’s was still very carefully toned back all calm medical professional, but in the creasing of the yeti’s eyes. Now, ghost yetis were definitely a new species and Batman drilled them all on the dangers of extrapolating body language on new species, but Jason had done his time on alien planets.

Something in the change, something in the shift, a little quirk of the brow Jason had noted when the yeti was amused. There was something funny here, and it wasn’t Danny’s quip.

Putting his suspicions aside for now, Jason settled on the more pressing matter.

“So who is my ghost parent? When do I get to meet them?” He asked cautiously, still not entirely convinced he hadn’t accidentally imprinted on Ra’s or Tallia. Cuz he hadn’t been in the Zone before Danny either.

Danny himself, much less concerned, waved a hand vaguely.

“Oh, we’ll deal with that on the way home. Go do a proper meet and greet, that sort of thing,” he said nonchalantly, and Jason’s shoulders settled a little.

“They’re in the Zone then?” He prodded a little further, not fully willing to let the matter just drop. If he had to ghost-emancipate himself, he’d rather be ready sooner than later.

Danny grinned toothily at him.

“Usually. We’ll see if she’s around, but it might have to be another day. Gotta deal with our other list first, like if our whole halfa deal is gonna do anything to the knight thing, or your core coming in,” he added, looking expectantly at Frostbite.

Jason almost missed what he said next as his heart skipped a beat, a possibility he’d never even considered slamming home.

She.

Someone dead, if they were in the Ghost Zone.

Someone who’d claimed him as her son long ago, guided him as best she could. Someone he’d never expected to see again, not even having died and returned to life himself.

No chance, he told himself quickly, hurriedly refocusing on the conversation at hand. About his bond with Danny, about their shared fucked biology, about his whole undead future.

There was no point dredging up the past until he actually knew.

Frostbite was back in his familiar role of teacher, that same proud/warm/fond smile crinkling the corners of his eyes as he looked at Danny.

“For your bond, Great One, I am not sure what I would even test for. The young knight presently has no ghost form, yet the bond is present exactly as if he had. I am afraid we have no records of former halfas, so any problems which occurred before are long lost.”

The yeti gave the tablet another few careful claw strokes, pulling up lines and lines of scrolling numbers and data beside each of their silhouettes on the wall screen. Forcing himself to the present, Jason scanned them quickly.

Unsurprisingly, he couldn’t actually make heads or tails of it; ghost vitals couldn’t really include things like heartbeat, blood oxygenation, or anything they’d test for in the med bay.

Not until Bruce found out about all this crap anyway - Jason wouldn’t put it past him to try and buy out everything the Far Frozen had in his latest snit of paranoia. The second he got over his “oh no Jason is going somewhere I can’t supervise him”, obviously.

Frostbite clearly knew what it all meant though, highlighting a couple of different areas where Danny’s numbers were very different from Jason’s and giving him that reassuring smile.

“After your first transformation I would expect some of these to change, and it is likely that any differences in your particular bond would show then as well. Your ghost form will of course be entirely ectoplasmic, so the bond will be more present than it is even now.”

That snapped Jason from his internal flailing, and he grimaced at the reminder.

Because… yeah. They’d talked a lot about his first transformation, he and Danny. But the only thing Danny hadn’t really known was when to expect it.

“Yeah… about that. I know the basics, inversion of my moment of death crap, I’ll be able to change it eventually, yadda yadda,” and that was its own sword of Damacles hanging with the mistletoe, “but… when will it happen? Like, will it just… happen? Or will I… yeah.”

Even wording the question made him feel like the whole thing was just too complicated. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to ask; what to look for? Would there be symptoms? Would he just un-die again in the street?

Luckily Frostbite seemed much more comfortable, hitting a few buttons on his tablet. Jason’s scan took over the full screen once more, zoomed in on the two orbs in his chest.

They were pulsing too, growing brighter and dimmer along with the more defined throb of the ectoplasm. Which was actually when he noticed that both cores were throbbing, so… was Pitty also a knight?

That was going on the list of questions for Clockwork like, yesterday. If he could get it its own little fear gun…

“As you can see, your core is still fuzzy around the edges and incompletely formed; once these edges have smoothed out, you will hypothetically be able to transform at any time,” Frostbite explained, blissfully aware of Jason’s new train of thought.

Probably for the best. Jason reluctantly refocused on the screen, tabling the idea of Sir Pitty for now. Nice to have something actually positive to look forward to.

He didn’t really remember seeing much of the screen during his last appointment, but he had seen the perfect sphere of Danny’s core, and his looked… well, like Frostbite said, smaller and kinda fuzzy. Like a ball of dough after it started sticking to your hands and losing its shape.

He frowned and nodded, looking back to Frostbite and then glancing around at Danny.

“So not until the next appointment, probably? Will it just… happen out of nowhere? Or will I need to trigger it?” It kinda helped, narrowing the scope. Dealing with it one step at a time.

Danny gave a helpless shrug.

“My powers started activating randomly, but I didn’t actually transform until I was in danger. Not like, life threatening danger,” he added with a roll of his eyes, like he’d heard Pitty’s growl… or maybe Jason had echoed it. “It was just Lunch Lady, she was never gonna really hurt us. She just made a mess and tried to feed everyone meat.”

Jason privately added Lunch Lady to his “asses to kick” list. On principle.

Frostbite gave a thoughtful nod, a large hand clapping down on Jason’s shoulder a lot harder than he’d probably intended. He didn’t flinch, but before his pit-growth-spurt it might have knocked him over.

“We can experiment more once your core is complete here in the Zone, and I would recommend waiting until Pitty has been expelled, if possible. Of course, any other changes in your knighthood bond will likely make themselves known with your first change as well,” the yeti mused, quite pleased with the idea.

Jason hesitated before agreeing, worry twisting through him again before he tamped it back down.

He wasn’t that scared little boy anymore; not inside. Besides, the bond was already firmly in place.

His soul was resonating a pace behind Danny’s.

It wasn’t like that little trip back to the moment of his death was gonna make Danny suddenly reject him.

The poor guy was probably stuck with Jason for life anyway at this point, which for a pair of halfas meant pretty much forever.

**

There was not a single thing on Earth or the Watchtower that he wanted less than to stop and talk to John Fucking Constantine and Diana after the meeting.

To be completely fair, Constantine clearly didn’t want to have that conversation any more either; Bruce had not been wrong about how well the magician would take the news that the United States had declared war on an entire dimension.

He was visibly green, had actually ground an unlit cigarette into a grainy mess against the table in lieu of lighting up, and looked about ready to lick up the tobacco.

Diana did not look happy either, but she never had. Her face was as stony and grave as Bruce had ever seen it, concern writ large even as she caught his eye.

The sure knowledge that her lasso would follow if he tried to leave was the only thing that kept him from ignoring her.

But since the only thing he wanted in the world at this moment was to have his son in his arms, and there was no chance of that happening until they were in the same dimension once more…

Bruce shot a quick, questioning look at Clark as the traitor made his way to the exit along with the rest of the Justice League. The Kryptonian at least had the grace to look a little guilty as he shook his head, stepping quickly out the door.

Wonder Woman hadn’t specifically told everyone else to get the fuck out. She had simply molded herself into an immovable force, concluded the meeting, and instructed Bruce alone to remain and discuss these… complications.

Bruce considered making an argument for Superman’s inclusion. They were the original three, and they’d probably need at least his and Aquaman’s help to handle the diplomatic situation.

Possibly the Oa, and Bruce was quite sure Green Lantern wasn’t looking forward to that possibility any more than he was. Hal Jordan talked a good game, always far too flippant, but he’d been pale enough by the end of the lecture that his suit made him look frankly unwell.

Unpleasant times would be in all of their futures it seemed. It was no real comfort as he slipped into a seat across from Wonder Woman and the slumped form of John Constantine.

The magician didn’t even look up, but clearly noticed.

“Didn’t fuckin’ think anyone’d fuck this up worse’n you, Bats,” he groaned, face still pressed into the table.

Bruce grunted, uninterested in his judgement.

“There are new complications we should focus on.” A vain hope, and one Diana instantly crushed.

“One that makes the contents of our discussion all the more vital,” she corrected sharply, piercing blue eyes narrowed as she watched his face. “It seems we have already caused unintentional offence.”

Which was an extremely light way to phrase the declared genocide, but Bruce didn’t bother arguing that position. Not when Constantine would do it for him.

But the mage just let out a long, hearty groan.

“Offence. Yeah. Maybe if we saw off the United States and toss it through a portal the rest of us will be fine,” he snarked, raising his head just enough to bang it off the table. Repeatedly.

By the third bang Diana gripped the back of his head, holding him in place against the table.

“Whatever the situation,” she growled, her tone daring either of them to comment, “we must deal with it as it is. You believe we would have noticed any countermeasures from the former Ghost King?”

She released her grip a moment later, and Constantine rolled his head just enough to glare at her through one eye.

“Pariah Dark? Sister, it wouldn’ta been a single town bein’ pulled off the map. We’d have lost the continent, and probably the world. You wouldn’t miss it,” he added with a bitter laugh, clearly considering banging his head off the table again.

Diana placed a hand on the table. Constantine set his head back down gently.

“And the new king?” She prodded, all icy control.

Bruce had to admit, even he felt calmer watching her.

He knew all the follies and foibles of gods, had no delusions about the limits of her power. He also knew her strengths. Her wisdom. Her ability to cut through complex issues with sword or words.

Whatever he missed, she was removed enough from this mess to catch.

Constantine shrugged, still not rising.

“No fuckin’ clue. All I know is they’re better’n Pariah, which is the lowest damn bar I ever saw. They call them Balance, and we’re not gonna fuckin’ like when the scales come due.”

Bruce’s brows furrowed. What could be a sufficient counterweight for demanding a whole people be hunted and experimented on until extinction?

The dead always vastly outnumbered the living.

Diana cut across his thoughts, her tone as sharp as her blade.

“So you believe we’d notice.”

Constantine sighed heavily and flopped back in his seat hard enough that he nearly toppled over. Diana steadied the chair with one hand, eyebrow rising archly.

Constantine stopped flailing, went to fold his arms, and instead stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Probably’d be pretty hard to miss too,” he agreed gruffly. Diana nodded, having received the answer she wanted, and interlaced her fingers.

“Then we have time to rectify matters before word reaches his ears.” She paused, brow furrowing as she recounted John’s words. “Do we not know if the King is a man?”

Constantine shrugged again, pulling something unidentifiable from his pocket before hastily shoving it back in, coming out again with a lighter. He spun it between his fingers, eyes fixed on the metal lid.

“Nah. “King” is just a loose translation to living tongues, for what yer used to. Easier to say than “Supreme High Ruler, Core of the Realms”. Not even likely that they were ever human; not even the Ancients could take Pariah solo to take the crown, so a human ghost wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Huffing out a mighty breath, Constantine looked from the lighter to Bruce, his gaze somehow immeasurably more tired. Bruce had imagined that talking about Amity Park made the man look ancient.

He looked haggard enough to be an ancient ghost himself now.

Raising his other hand, he began counting off points on his fingers.

“We know they’re young. Everything agrees on that. Could be any time in the past few centuries, but it’s still a timeline. We know they’re tougher’n Hell and all its demons put together, cuz they put Pariah down single handed. Had to to get the throne. Might not have Ended him, the Casket of Eternal Slumber’s not turned up looking for a new occupant.”

The magician stared at his two fingers for a moment, then sighed and raised a third.

“And we know ghosts like them. They’re less scared, though most of ‘em never knew shit about Pariah. Didn’t even react to him waking, which had to happen for the change in power. That or it all went down too fast for the shockwaves to reach us here; not bloody likely. Wouldn’t take more than a day, and ghosts fight for decades on a whim.”

He hesitated for a moment, considering that last finger. Finally he sighed and shook his head.

“Can’t rule it out though. Pariah waking up’d be as much an emergency for them as it’d be for us, putting his ass back down is an all hands on deck situation on either side of the veil. If this new king is Balance, Pariah’d be their opposite,” he finished gruffly, glaring at all three digits before stuffing both hands into his pockets.

Bruce nodded, drawing a deep, calming breath in through his nose and then out through his mouth. Even this much discussion had something itching in the back of his mind, a building tension that he had to Get Away.

He was in control of it though. Could tell the difference between his own unease and the burning ember of the oath.

Turn and run right away his ass. Magic could never hold out against cool, calm logic.

“And this new king, Balance, has stamped a damn mark on Jason.”

And his breath hitched.

Sharp, white hot panic flared behind his eyes, every muscle clenching with the effort of not leaping straight from the table. The only reason he didn’t was because he had no idea where to go.

What would he even do? Run to Jason’s side? The boy was in another dimension, far beyond Bruce’s reach.

Again.

He was losing Jason again. Losing him to this Ghost King, this Balance, this-

Diana’s hand clamped firmly over his, the amazon’s grip immovable steel. Bruce felt his bones grinding together before he even noticed he’d stopped breathing, before he managed to look up enough to meet her eyes.

Stern, determined, brilliant blue locked with his. Her grip tightened a little further, the ribbing on his gloves creaking with the pressure.

She wouldn’t break them… probably. They were designed to hold up against any of the supers the League dealt with. Prolonged contact was another thing entirely though.

His attention now locked on her face, Bruce managed a deep breath in along with her. Held it when she did. Let it out.

She didn’t release him for another few repetitions, until he was breathing mostly on his own again. Then she returned her attention to Constantine.

“What.” It wasn’t aggressive. Just a completely flat, completely toneless statement.

Constantine gave her an entirely hopeless smile, pulling his hands from his pockets to give her jazz hands.

“And that’s what he’s not ready to hear yet. Your boy, Jason, Red Hood, has gotten himself personally warded by the Ghost King. He’s the next thing to invulnerable right now,” he added bitterly, as if that made any of it better.

An icy hand clenched in Bruce’s chest again, but he forced himself to still. To breathe through it. To not turn and run, run until he found his child and tore him away from whatever influence had him.

The Ghost King had a hold of Jason. Jason who’d all but ordered Bruce to let him go.

“And Jason must have been in direct contact with the King to receive these wards?” Diana asked sharply, and Bruce’s head snapped back to her.

It was a good question. Important, obvious, there was a connection there that he should be making, but he couldn’t think. His head was spinning, heart pounding, and every shadow seemed black as pitch.

Constantine grunted an agreement, shooting Bruce an almost sympathetic look.

Could. Could this be the oath? Not his own instinctive, natural panic?

Bruce couldn’t tell, he’d been so afraid for so long, ever since he held Jason’s broken body in his arms. Ever since he buried his son.

It felt the same. But he had mastered that fear long ago, so this would not control him now. He had to be better.

Frowning at Diana, he leaned forward.

“Explain.” She’d probably assumed that he’d made the same connection. He probably should have.

There was just a brief flash of surprise on her face before her expression softened, her hand gentling over his.

“Jason was the one who told you of these Anti Ecto Acts, was he not?” She asked pointedly, a dark brow arching delicately.

Bruce about managed a grunt of agreement, his jaw clenched too tightly to speak. She waited a moment longer, watching his face, and then sighed.

“Then is it not likely that either he has told Balance of these Acts, or that Balance was the one that told him?”

Constantine jerked and got halfway through a bellowed curse before she cut him off with a glare. Her tone brooked no argument as she continued with a firm, frosted patience.

“Jason is a principled young man, even if not of the exact principles you prefer. Either he has warned you because he believes we have time to fix this, or because the King would prefer we handle it,” she said bluntly.

It sounded so simple, put like that. Far too simple. Bruce shook his head, leaning in.

“We can’t know for sure-”

“Batman.” There was nothing harsh in her tone. Nothing so overtly aggressive as the glare she kept giving Constantine. Just a calm, cool statement that sucked the air from his lungs.

The weight of her own mantle, the Amazon princess who would one day be Queen. Not his friend Diana; Wonder Woman.

Once she was sure he wouldn’t continue, she fixed him with a sapphire stare.

“Do you believe Jason Todd would condone the end of the world?” She asked simply, and that at least was that plain.

“No.” It didn’t even require thought; whatever he feared ever since his son took his first life, Bruce knew that.

Jason was fundamentally a good boy. So kind, so giving, ironically he had been the most well adjusted boy Bruce had ever given the mantle to.

Which was what made what he’d become so painful. It was everything he never should have been.

Wonder Woman nodded as if that solved all the rest.

“And yet you called the meeting, not him. He has known for several days already and did nothing to alert any of us. Therefore, he does not believe this is an urgent threat.”

It sounded good, and Bruce almost believed it before Constantine snorted.

“Yeah, great, except the kid has no fuckin’ clue what he’s dealing with. Didn’t even know he’d been fuckin’ marked or that sellin’ his fuckin’ service was the dumbest fuckin’ thing he coulda done,” he grumbled and Bruce’s heart fell.

Wonder Woman was not so easily swayed. She raised an eyebrow slowly at the magician.

“And could those protective marks have been placed on Jason against his will?” She asked pointedly, like she knew the first thing about magic.

Constantine hesitated. Frowned a little, thinking hard. Finally he threw both hands in the air and leaned back in his chair, scrubbing them down his face.

“Technically, yes, alright? But I can’t think of a damn reason why they’d bother. Like I told the old Bat, it’s technically a good thing; I couldn’t even get a basic diagnostic spell off, he’s completely fuckin’ magic proof an’ anythin’ that can read that ward will run like fuck.”

Something in Bruce’s chest flickered hopefully. Wonder Woman nodded firmly, then redirected her stare to him.

“Then until we have reason not to, we assume that Jason Todd has control of this situation. He has assigned us to deal with these Acts, either before his king discovers them or on their behalf. You, Batman, will defer to his experience along with that of our experts,” she declared with all the ringing command she was capable of.

It chafed. And yet… he could hear the echo of Harley’s words in her voice.

What if Jason was wrong? It was the kind of thing he always thought about, the kind of thing he couldn’t stop thinking about. The kind of thing that had the Batman able to stand and go toe to toe with gods.

But what if Jason was right? What if Harley, Diana, Constantine were right, and his usual measures would spell disaster?

He had a dozen contingency plans that any member of the League could use to take him down. He was painfully aware that the first one, the one he’d already shown to Superman and Wonder Woman, only had two words in it.

Diana’s Judgement.

She hadn’t technically invoked it yet. Had never bothered asking exactly what he meant by it; she wasn’t one to back down from hard subjects, which meant she’d also never bothered hiding how little she thought of his contingency plans.

His League-specific ones, anyway. She liked the ones he had for the rogues and various end of the world crises.

It meant moments like this, where she would give him her honest, simple judgement and reign him in.

(Technically it also meant that he trusted her to decide when she needed to snap his neck, but Martian Manhunter always looked at him with disappointment when he thought about that side too much.)

Looking back to her face, he managed to meet her eyes and nod once. It went against every instinct he had, every year of experience and loss, but…

If he couldn’t do things he didn’t like, he’d never have become Batman.

**

Head spinning with a plethora of new information, bag of ecto candies in hand, Jason deliberately slowed down to let Danny precede him out of Frostbite’s office.

That little suspicion had been growing, kindling the more they discussed halfa anatomy and bonds, and honestly? Yes, he had been using it as an excuse to think about something other than his own problems.

Danny seemed not to notice, disappearing past the doorway as Jason looked up at Frostbite. Figured fuck it; he didn’t know how much time he had. Best be blunt.

“You’re Danny’s ghost parent, aren’t you?” He asked, knowing from the yeti’s face as he did that he was right.

The way it froze for just a moment, eyes flicking to the door Danny had just left through. Then the smile that spread, knowing and secretive as he bent down for the first time to put his face on Jason’s level.

“He takes such pleasure in believing he does not have one; the Great One values his independence highly, and his history with parental figures is… complex. It can be our secret, yes?” The yeti winked.

Jason hesitated for a moment, thinking back to all he knew about Danny’s home life. It wasn’t actually all that much; Danny probably actually knew more about Jason’s, after the last week.

That wasn’t just a rarity, it was practically unheard of for any of the former Robins, and Jason knew exactly how Dick and Harley would react to that information.

They’d accuse him of growth. Gross. They couldn’t be told.

And yeah, maybe Jason had a bit of a personal understanding of why Danny wouldn’t want an overabundance of parental figures around. Their situations weren’t exactly the same, not really, but Jason knew enough verses of the song.

All teen heroes tended to have certain things in common, the biggest of which was whatever parental figure they had failing to protect them. Failing to keep them from the darkness, forcing a kid to take on a mantle and burdens that they never should have.

He’d wanted to pound Bruce’s bones to pulp for putting another kid in his cape. Wound up nearly pounding Tim’s instead, however the pit and Tallia had twisted things to make that seem like the same thing.

And Danny hadn’t just picked up the mantle of Teen Hero. He’d picked up a crown, a whole realm of responsibilities and rulership over the dead.

Personally, Jason thought Danny was missing out on an easy dodge of king duties by not finding his ghost parent; Clockwork was his regent but still apparently bothered him for work.

A parent ruling until the child was of age was behind most of the most brutal regicides in any monarchic system; the dead had to know about it.

But that’d mean Clockwork bothering Frostbite at all hours, possibly. Or Clockwork finding new excuses to keep checking on a crown prince Jason had already seen was a handful.

Yeah, he could see why no one really challenged Danny’s assertion that he didn’t have a ghost parent.

Jason spared a moment wondering about his own again.

He knew better than to hope, he really did. Catherine Todd deserved much better than an afterlife of watching over his many mistakes. If there was any justice to death, she’d moved straight past the realms and into the most perfect of paradises.

He liked to think she’d be proud of him. Of the work he’d done, the good he’d spread through the Alley even if it was on the end of a gun.

So long as it wasn’t any form of al Ghul whatsoever, Jason was pretty sure he could handle any other ghost parent the multiverse could throw at him.

Danny’s head poked back around the corner, grinning in a very worried way between the two of them.

“Everything okay back here?” He asked with some of the worst overhyped cheer Jason had ever heard.

Alright, maybe Danny would actually also have been a problem for ghost parent. Because Jason thought he was hot. Because he was an awful mother hen even as a friend.

Jason raised his bag of ecto candies.

“Just checking how many of these I can safely have in a day,” he said innocently, and kinda hoped Danny didn’t actually feel the wash of Frostbite’s approval as the yeti straightened.

That would give the game away.

“They are not a substitute for sleep or nutrition for your human form,” Frostbite told him, as if that was what they’d been talking about.

Jason sighed heavily, doing his best impression of Tim being handed decaf.

“Listen, a guy can hope?”

“Oh you’re not gonna win that one,” Danny snickered, brightening with the distraction and all but skipping in to take Jason’s arm, “let’s scram before he gets the powerpoints.”

Frostbite gave them a cheerful wave on the way out the door, and Jason managed a mostly sincere smile as Danny began regaling him on some of his teenaged attempts to persuade Frostbite to let him give up sleep for finals week.

Yeah, he might add the Fenton parents to the butt-kicking list. Below the ghosts, obviously, for whom butt-kicking was a social courtesy.

But, y’know. If he ever got the chance to have a quiet word about taking care of your damn kids.

———————

And here we have Part 1! Imma just yeet it up so you can all get started while I edit Part 2, because again, this is a Girthy One without an easier breakpoint 👀

I’ll still try and get Part 2 done tonight, but I’ve kept y’all waiting long enough

Tag List: @welcometosasakiworld @kyrianclawraith @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikkobara @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop @mayoota-blog @xysidhe @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof f @perfectwastelandcreation @onyxlightdragon @larks-and-katydids @peachesandcreamfemboy @jesus-camp-the-sequel @may-rbi @mothman-the-mothman87 @viyatrix @stargirl1331 @idfk-man10 @thedepressedrobin @skulld3mort-1fan @rootsmudge @ravenshadow17 @cankoking @phantom-dc @mentalcarebear @magic-pincushion @redamancyardor @lyra689 @itsparadoxlacuna @alcorbearson @asphyxia778 8 @why-must-i-be-like-this @tkiesai i @greenpyrowolf @frivolous-pastel @honeysuckletook @adorkable1291

Part Two:

[dissensionads]

𝑰𝒔 𝒂 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒄𝒖𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒇 𝒕𝒘𝒐 𝒑𝒆𝒐𝒑𝒍𝒆 ?

The  Dissension  Procedure  is  not  therapy.  It  is  not  meditation.  It  is  not  healing.  It  is  What  is  out  there?  Who  am  I  after  five  o’clock?  Do  I  have  a  dog?  Do  I  believe  in  God?—a  precise  and  irreversible  surgery  of  the  self.  Under  sterile  lights  and  gloved  hands,  the  mind  is  split  cleanly  in  two:  one  consciousness  is  extracted,  isolated,  and  assigned  solely  to  the  workplace.  This  new  being  is  the  Innie,  born  in  an  office  chair,  their  first  memory  the  soft  whir  of  fluorescents  and  a  voice  saying,  “Welcome  to  your  first  day.”  The  Outie  is  what’s  left  behind:  they  resume  their  life  as  if  nothing  happened,  waking  up  after  hours  of  blank  space,  unaware  that  another  version  of  themselves  has  risen,  filed,  smiled,  bled.  The  Outie  lives  a  curated  peace—sipping  coffee,  picking  up  dry  cleaning,  unaware  their  body  was  ever  not  their  own.  The  Innie  labors  without  rest  or  reward,  made  to  move  through  endless  days  that  never  end. Within  the  walls  of  the  Volner  Building,  Innie  life  is  ordered  and  quiet—eerily  so.  They  recite  slogans  like  mantras.  They  smile  when  spoken  to.  They  eat  pre-portioned  lunches  and  thank  their  managers  for  flavorless  gelatin.  Most  accept  their  role  without  protest,  stripped  of  memory,  emotion,  and  context.  But  some—some  feel  the  fracture.  They  dream  of  oceans  they’ve  never  seen.  They  hear  laughter  in  their  bones.  They  weep  without  understanding  the  shape  of  their  grief.  Forbidden  thoughts,  labeled  “unauthorized  cognitive  drift,”  begin  to  take  root:  Do  I  have  a  family?  What  does  my  bedroom  look  like?  Does  anyone  love  me  out  there?  These  thoughts  echo  in  hallways,  linger  in  the  corners  of  their  minds  like  mildew  beneath  wallpaper.  A  longing  not  just  to  escape—but  to  know.  And  in  a  system  engineered  to  erase  that  hunger,  knowing  becomes  an  act  of  rebellion. The  rumors,  of  course,  have  grown  with  the  silence.  Some  say  the  split  can  be  undone—not  in  the  labs  that  created  it,  but  out  there,  beyond  company  reach.  In  half-lit  motel  rooms  with  buzzing  neon.  In  basements  lined  with  stolen  servers.  Through  whispered  instructions  passed  from  one  trembling  hand  to  another.  Former  technicians,  rogue  Outies,  and  vanished  whistleblowers  have  built  black-market  procedures  meant  to  fuse  what  should  have  never  been  divided.  Some  who’ve  undergone  the  reversal  speak  in  riddles  now—struggling  to  carry  the  weight  of  both  lives  at  once.  Others  spiral  into  madness.  One  woman  reportedly  clawed  her  face  apart  in  a  motel  sink.  Another  walked  straight  into  the  ocean,  whispering  her  Innie’s  name.  And  yet…  the  whispers  persist.  For  those  who  have  tasted  the  cage  and  sensed  the  key  just  out  of  reach,  wholeness—no  matter  how  dangerous—is  the  only  thing  left  worth  wanting.  Even  if  it  kills  them.

𝑻𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒎𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕.

THE  HOUSE  OF  DISSENT  is  an  original,  psychological  horror, drama, and political  roleplay  set  in  a  retrofuturist  2028,  where  identity  has  become  a  product,  obedience  a  prescription,  and  silence  the  only  permitted  rebellion.  Inspired  by  Severance,  Succession,  The  Sims,  and  Control,  it  explores  corporate  surveillance,  manufactured  realities,  and  the  ghost-like  aftermath  of  partitioned  lives.  The  aesthetic  is  mid-century  modern  gone  sterile:  sleek  chrome,  synthetic  smiles,  and  cocktail  parties  hosted  beneath  the  glare  of  hidden  cameras.  Centered  around  profound  character  evolution,  embracing  dark  narratives,  intricate  personal  journeys,  immersive  world-building,  and  transformative  plot  developments  designed  to  challenge  your  character  and  reshape  the  very  fabric  of  their  reality. This  world  is  curated  to  the  point  of  collapse,  built  on  a  foundation  of  inherited  power,  manipulated  memory,  and  the  slow,  aching  horror  of  being  erased  while  alive.  More  information  will  be  declassified  on  May  18th.  Until  then—remember  your  place,  repeat  your  mantras,  and  above  all  else:  we’re  happy  to  be  here.

LIKE THIS OR REBLOG FOR EXCLUSIVE ACCESS TO THE FULL PLOT & FIRST DIBS ON ROLES !

[misspepeshi]

Warning: [PG-13] This story contains elements, language, and topics that are not suited for minors, and can be sensitive to you. Please read at your own discretion.

[ REKINDLE | ACT XI: Misleading Dates ]

Sometime in January, 2026. Aelar’s Ravenwood home.

Aelar had promised Vaelren to take him on a date. And Vaelren, of course, had set expectations in his own mind. He expected a nice dinner, flowers, and maybe a walk around Ravenwood. What he didn’t expect, though, was for Aelar to take him to the same restaurant they’ve been countless of times. And order the same menu items… again.

— ✦ — 

Aelar didn’t even match Vaelren’s walking pace on the way back, and it hurt his feelings. Vaelren was disheartened. Why would Aelar invite him to a date? No. A dinner. That, in Vaelren’s standards, was not a date.

He stopped walking. Maybe Aelar would listen to him this time. Maybe Aelar would understand Vaelren’s feelings for him better.

“Aelar.” Vaelren called, his chest and mind hurting from tonight’s “date”. 

Aelar turned his head around. While he did not reply verbally, he was listening, waiting for Vaelren’s next words. He hoped Vaelren had enjoyed the date. Though his own Deadly Shadows told him otherwise. It had been too long since he had taken someone on a date. And his age, his position as the High Fae of the Underworld, did not help.

“Please don’t take me on a date again.”

— ✦ — 

Vaelren had locked himself in the guest bedroom’s bathroom. The same bedroom Lucian once used. Everything inside Aelar’s house was minimal. Only a few furniture sets here and there. It felt… empty, just like his own heart.

He was trying to control his Crimson Flames to no avail. Not even his new powers could help him. His heart hurt immensely once more, from rejection. From his Crimson Flames. The flames coursed through his body freely, harming him on every opportunity they had. Maybe it was for the best, to let the flames consume him entirely, until there was nothing left of him. What use was a High Fae that could not remember anything, and was a burden to everyone, more than anything else?

“Open the door.” A distant voice. 

His ears were ringing, his vision going black. He felt himself slipping away. Though it wasn’t the first time, he hoped this would be the last.

Behind him, the lock of the door was being unlocked.

— ✦ — 

Aelar nuzzled his neck, trying to calm him down. His Deadly Shadows easing the Crimson Flames of the other, and forcing them to back down at the same time. Aelar had enough of them hurting Vaelren.

“Were you expecting more than a dinner today?” A sincere question. Aelar’s bright, purple eyes focused on the other fae, whom was upset and recovering from his own inner turmoil. Nonetheless, he felt embarrassed. Theron has seen him like this before. And now Aelar, whom he didn’t wish to share with this side of him.

His flushed cheeks betrayed him. “Vaelren, answer me.” Of course he was expecting more than a dinner!

“No. Yes. No. Yes. No—” Vaelren stuttered. He tried to ignore the fact that Aelar was scenting him as if he were his mate, as if they were bonded. Vaelren felt as he was about to burst again and decompose from a whole different reason. All this time, he had been trying to seduce this old, ancient relic of a fae. And had failed to do so.

And here Aelar was. Holding Vaelren in his arms, keeping him close.

“You have to be more direct with me, Vaelren. Tell me what you want.” In a swift movement, Aelar picked him up, as if his weight meant nothing. As if he was never a battle fae, and as he wasn’t strong as Aelar himself. “We’re going to have a talk in my bedroom. The guest bed is too small for both of us to sit in and talk.” 

Talk? Talk… Wait. TALK?! On a bed?! 

— ✦ — 

Aelar knew what he needed to do next. It was clear to him that, Vaelren had feelings for him for some time now. And was always demonstrating them to Aelar. Always open, warm, welcoming with him. 

The first of his kind, in the more than a thousand years that he has lived, to show him attention, care, and love. 

Maybe, after all, this is what he deserved. What Seira would’ve wanted for him. 

Aelar was capable, powerful enough to create or force a bond. Yet he never did. He never intended to. That is, until Vaelren began breaking the walls surrounding his heart. 

“Close your eyes. And focus.” Aelar said in a low, soft voice. He kissed both of Vaelren’s eyebrows, intertwined their hands, and closed the distance between their foreheads. 

His Deadly Shadows traversed from his body to Vaelren’s. And Vaelren had never seen such a rich, pure black in his life. Had never felt this cold before.

Rather than forcing Vaelren into bonding, Aelar presented it as an open invitation.

— ✦ — 

A bridge made of dark glass appeared in his vision. Floating lanterns on each side of it. The fire in each lantern long extinguished. 

Vaelren carefully walked towards the glass bridge, mindful of his steps. But with each step he took, the bridge cracked. He hesitated. He was scared. Carefully, he began to lit each lantern close to him, illuminating the way. The bridge was more cracked than he thought. And an abyss awaited underneath it. Vaelren needed to steady and steel himself if he wanted to reach the end of the bridge. 

Outside of this vision, he could feel Aelar. He could feel his Deadly Shadows holding him steady, supporting him through this. 

He continued forward, not knowing yet what this was all about. Not knowing what Aelar intentions were. Part of him continued to be scared. Was this a new test? Were his powers not good enough, not ready to use? Vaelren thought. 

Maybe Aelar still considered him a threat. And maybe this was the reason why he’d place Vaelren in such a vulnerable position. Still, Vaelren pushed forward. He could do this, even when scared.

— ✦ — 

Vaelren finally reached solid ground. The bridge behind him slowly collapsing, and all floating lanterns were lit up with his Crimson Flames, shining brightly. Deadly Shadows welcomed him and danced at his feet, while making their way up to his body through his legs. From pitch black, these shadows became lighter, until turning into a rosy color.

It took him a moment to realize, as he opened his eyes in surprise. A gasp escaped his lips. Vaelren’s gaze focused on the starry, purple eyes, focused on the nose and lips. On the beautiful face that faced his own.

“A bond…” he thought internally. 

Aelar could listen to his thoughts now, and sincerely replied, “it is up to you, to accept or reject this bond.” 

Vaelren parted his lips, and finally said, soft and weak. His voice a little broken yet full of hope, “Aelar, don’t test me like this. It… hurts.”

Aelar frowned, worry showing on his face. Is this how Vaelren felt every time they practiced and tested his powers? 

He still couldn’t fully sense Vaelren feelings or emotions, only could listen to his thoughts. But he could tell that Vaelren felt as if he was on the verge of having his heart broken. Again. It made him upset. Aelar didn’t want Vaelren to suffer anymore. After this… he wanted Vaelren to become happy. He was willing to become part Vaelren’s happiness. 

“I’m not testing you, Vaelren. Let me be the one to take care of you. Let me—” 

“Yes.” Fast reply. Fast heartbeats. Thrumming magic. “I accept, I consent to this bond.” 

Vaelren’s arms made their way to Aelar’s torso and back, “I want to be your mate.”

Mate. The word sounded so beautifully coming out of his lips.

It didn’t take long, for both of them to feel each other’s feelings and emotions. For Aelar to feel all the love that was outpouring from Vaelren’s heart for him. Fervent and true. Willing to be made his and only his. 

Aelar didn’t waste another second to make Vaelren fully his. He kissed him deeply, and returned that same, kind of fervent love. 

“Mate, my mate.” They both whispered between rushed kisses, between hands that explored each other’s bodies.

The more love they expressed to each other, the more Vaelren reveled in it. The more he let Aelar’s course through him. 

He couldn’t feel more happy. 

Not only his love was reciprocated, but a little magical core grew fast and steady in his abdomen. 

A little Faeling taking lifeform.

Yet both Aelar and him were still unaware of this.

Until the next morning, when the delicious breakfast Vaelren had made, didn’t sit well with him.

← ✦ → | Thank you all CC creators. 🕸

[creelkobblelaufeyson69]

The agents little secret

Warnings: smut (public sex)

Agent Y/n enters the irrigation room with a blank face. The guards look at them, and the film was rolling to be looked back at later. Lee Harker insisted it being her that went in to interrogate, but they had fully convinced her that they should interrogate him. Lee doesn’t question why they wanted to, since she knew that they took a special interest in this case

Dale smiles brightly at seeing them. He had missed them and couldn’t help but admire his lover for all the things they’ve covered up. They had hidden pictures of the two, their own little satanic collection. Red was of course their favorite color, but lied to not seem that suspicious since something as little as your favorite color could easily be tied in with something big

- “Agent Y/n! I’m so happy that you came by” he says with a bright smile. They sat across from him as the guards stayed behind them just in case. “I guess curiosity really killed the cat” they say, which makes Dale amused. The guards exchanged a confused look at how they were able to talk the same way like Dale. But the guards had both silently agreed that it was because they’ve done this before, and that talking in the way of the killer would help reveal more details

“The cat is just lost. Not dead yet” Dale says as he continues to smile. They nodded their head in agreement as the guards were still impressed by the way the two talked to each other. “The cat just needs some guidance” he says before a dark chuckle left his lips. They rose a curious eyebrow now, obviously acting like they don’t know what he’s talking about

“From whom?” They asked out of curiosity. “The man downstairs” he responds as he continues to smile. “Satan” they say so casually that it sent shivers down both guards’ back. The guards felt the air growing thicker now, and felt goosebumps forming on their skin. Dale grins, and nods his head. The guards felt the room growing colder now, but they don’t flinch nor shiver

No goosebumps formed on their skin to even show the slightest of fear. “Maybe the cat won’t feel so lonely anymore” he adds as he felt himself scooting closer towards the desk. “Perhaps the cat wasn’t lonely to begin with” they added, which piques his interest. They decided to go on: “the cat found someone who helps with that guidance. It’s forever grateful for its master helping it” they explained, which makes the guards even more uncomfortable

Dale rose an eyebrow out of curiosity, but knew they were referring to him. “Does the cat’s master make it happy?” He asked. “Of course” they say with a smile. “But that’s not why I’m here of course” they added, which makes him nod his head out of understanding. “You want to know why I did this” he says, which makes them nod their head. The guards were told to step out, leaving the two alone now

The guards were thankful that they got to leave the room, since the two weren’t feeling that comfortable now. The camera had randomly stopped recording, which makes them smirk. “Your plan is working wonderfully dear!” He says in a cheery voice, which makes them smile now. “I’m an Agent for a reason” they say with the smirk returning now

“Definitely my favorite Agent” he says as he pats his lap as a gesture that he wants them to sit down on his lap. They got up, and went over towards him. They sat down on his lap, which makes his hands go onto their waist. “So much smarter than all these agents. So much hotter” he spoke in a low sultry voice at the end, which makes them shiver. “How about sexier?” They asked, which makes him grin

“Definitely” he says as he slides a hand under their top that they needed to wear for work. He gasped when he realized that they weren’t wearing a bra. Their nipples were aching for attention, and he could tell. “I bet you’re not wearing underwear either” he whispered in a sultry voice right next to their ear

“Why don’t you find out?” They asked with a teasing smirk. He chuckles darkly again as he takes their shirt off now. Their nipples were hard, and he couldn’t help but admire their chest as he places his free hand under the hem of their pants. He could immediately feel their arousal and feel that they weren’t wearing underwear either

“I’m right” he says with a smirk on his face as he takes his hand out from their pants. He lifts them up, and then places them on the desk. He takes their pants off, and once their pants were on the floor, he pushes them down roughly onto the desk and finds himself in between their legs. He’s using his tongue as moans left their lips

The room echos the moans, and of course he knew all the right spots to make them squirm. The room was filled with the most erotic noises, and the two were so glad that the walls were thick enough to block out the noise to those outside of the room. His hands were clenching their thighs harshly, but they didn’t mind since they were into it

Their legs wrapped around his neck to bring him deeper inside of them. “Dale” they moaned as they knew they were going to come soon. Dale knew as well, which makes him stop. They let out a frustrated groan, which makes him chuckle. He lets go of their thighs as he lifts up his head

“I’ll make you cum and scream my name when you get me out of here” he says before he goes to leave bite marks on their thighs now that we’re already pretty marked up. But he liked marking them up until he definitely couldn’t anymore. They let out more moans of pleasure, since they always loved the pain that he brought with the pleasure

Once he was done leaving bite marks, he lifts up his head to look up at them. “You should get dressed dear. I’m sure the guards will be back to have a little chatty chat” he says as he moves away from them, and back onto the chair he sat at originally. They get up, and got dressed. He watches intently, taking in how hot they looked

Even when getting dressed, he still found them extremely sexy. He was growing impatient with his own desires, but knew he had to wait until he was at their place. But the way they looked after he was eating them out, was making it harder for him to have self control. They sat back at their spot across from him, and made sure to look as composed as before

Dale’s self control was hanging on by a thread as he watches their amazing acting skills. He was definitely madly in love and madly horny right now. “Oh darling, you’re making it harder for me to not take you right now and right here” he says in a low sultry voice, but it doesn’t make them break character

Dale was so impressed by his lover, and realized just how impatient he was now. No one was coming around since the agents wanted to rationalize on why someone sent bail money anonymously for Dale. It was confusing since all his followers that they knew about were dead. Dale took this into consideration, and got up now

They watched intently now as their serious face was still on them. That made it even better for him as he begins to strip away his clothes. They watched every movement he made as he was discarding his clothes. Their act still showing strong even when he stood naked before them. Their eyes met his, and they could tell how impatient he was now

This makes them get up, and re undress themselves. Once they were naked again, they go over towards the desk. They laid down on the desk, and spread their legs for him. He watches them like they were his prey. His eyes were filled with hunger and lust as he approached them. Once he’s between their legs, he slams into them harshly as his hands were grasped firmly onto the desk

Their body arches back as they let out a moan of pleasure. They immediately stretched out for him, which makes him start thrusting immediately. He’s doing it at a fast pace and he’s already hitting their g spot. Their hands were on the sides of the desk, clinging onto the desk as waves of pleasure rushes through them. His own moans echoed throughout the room now as he fucks them

They could only let out moans and not coherent sentences or thoughts. Their eyes were rolled back as always when he fucked them. The occasional moans of his name would escape their mouth, but that seemed to be the only word that they could moan right now. He moans their name in response as if the two were having a conversation that only the two could decipher

His hands moved to their thighs, which makes them moan louder at the pain that comes from him squeezing their thighs tightly. The two find each other lost in the feeling of the other around each other as the erotic noises continue to echo throughout the room. They clench around him, knowing they wouldn’t be able to hold back much longer

He lets them have their orgasm, but they don’t scream his name just in case. When they came down from their high, he continues until he was the one coming inside of them. He lets out a loud moan just like they did, squeezing their thighs more aggressively then already. This makes their moans intertwine with his

Once he was done, he stops thrusting and then gets out of them. The two got dressed quickly, and back to the normal position the two were in before. The two were hoping it’ll take a bit more time for the agents to arrive, or just their boss to talk about the bail money. Luckily once they were less sweaty from the events, their boss enters

-They had parked away from the station, and were slowly approaching the entrance. The same guards from before were bringing Dale out. Dale had somehow convinced the guards that he could walk the rest of the way to the designated car by himself. But it was definitely because the guards were deeply scared of Dale, and of course he wanted to take advantage of that fear

They watched in their rear view mirror that he was approaching by himself, which makes them smirk. He gets into the car once close by and by the passenger’s seat. He gently closes the door, and then looks at them as he puts his seatbelt on. The moonlight was shining on them, which makes him mesmerized

They turned to look at him and smiled. He smiles in return, happy to have found someone who truly found him attractive. He was also happy that they weren’t ever scared of him either, and that made him happy as well. As they eventually drove away, he kept staring at them. His hand was intertwined with one of their hands as they drove off into the night with him

[banana-pancake5]

YOU REWORKED YOUR FRIDA- ahem sorry, you reworked your frida?? Would you like to share what you did? /nf

Heheh >:D

Under the cut bc I kinda just started rambling about ideas

Well first off I changed her design and I think she has a much nicer color palette now! (I need to make her a new ref sheet though…)

And everything else I changed hmmmmm where to start….

I’m still figuring it our so I may continue to change some things just so you know

She previously was going to join the turtles pretty soon after meeting with Vita, due to her already occasionally feeling like big mama’s treatment was harsh and such. Now though! Now Frida is practically the villain of the story. She is much more loyal to Big Mama and it takes WAY longer for her to leave her place in the nexus.

Her personality is also changing, previously I honestly don’t think I really thought about how she would act around people but that has definitely changed. At the nexus (before she meets the turtles) she is more aggressive and a little more spoiled. She understands her position is absurdly high ranking, as the daughter of Big Mama AND as the champion of the nexus, and will not hesitate to use this status for herself. She is way more disciplined than before and is more harsh with herself. She also is extremely competitive (which I believe I’ve mentioned before) because she won’t allow herself to lose.

Her dynamics have also changed a good bit. I said before that she and Leo wouldn’t get along but then, once they both understand each other, they become really close but not anymore! She and Leo do not get along, especially in the beginning. Her competitive, perfectionist nature is extremely threatened by Leo, who is also extremely competitive. Both Leo and Frida hide themselves behind masks they’ve made, although Frida pretty quickly notices the facade and is annoyed at how fake Leo acts, unaware of the mask she subconsciously holds to her own face.

Once Frida starts living with the hamatos she adapts. She takes note of how the turtles act around each other and she forges a new mask, creating a new role to fill: “Hamato”

Now, I’m debating how she starts living with the turtles… originally she just kind of agreed to stay, then really liked it, then left Big Mama, but I don’t reallly like that so I want to change it. My new idea is that she is told to join them. A mission from Big Mama. Of course, she would accept this mission without hesitation, but boy oh boy she would HATE it. She needs to be by her mother’s side. She needs to protect her. She has interviews to take. She has battles to win! What would the Nexus do without its champion? What would Big Mama do without her assistant? What would the press say when the perfect daughter won’t show up? (Okay well now I’m going with this plan no more debating it haha).

Imagine this:

After an excruciating week of holding up this lie that Frida is “a Hamato,” that she “loves this family,” that she’s “adjusting so well!!” She sneaks off to report to Big Mama, and… she’s replaced like nothing changed. There’s a new champion, she hired an assistant, and the press is focused completely on her mother. But that wouldn’t deter Frida! Of course this happened! Big mama still needs business, she definitely needs an assistant, and the press is just the press; they always move on quick! Frida patiently waits for her mother to be ready to hear a report, but once she is telling Big Mama, she only gets half hearted, uninterested responses. Then once the report is finished, all Big Mama has to say is she is disappointed. Dissatisfied that it’s taking Frida “so long.” (FRIDA HAD TO JOIN A WHOLE NEW FAMILY AND ACT LIKE WHOLE NEW PERSON OF COURSE ITS TAKING HER MORE THAN A WEEK YOU CRAZY LADY) this however, wouldn’t make Frida resent Big Mama. Frida would Place that resentment on herself as always. Big Mama was right. She is taking too long. She wasted her mother’s time with a useless report.

But not only this, eventually she would discover the reason Big Mama needed her to join the Hamatos was to recruit Vita. To find a new nexus champion. To replace Frida.

So yeah, those are the main ideas. And uh… yeah I realize it’s been MONTHS since you asked this but I sort of forgot…… sorry bout that ;-;

[deathbeckons]

MEET / JACK RILEY.

( robert sheehan, 33, male, he/him, human, strategist). It’s been a while since we’ve seen JACK RILEY. I hear they’re a HUMAN and they reside on the EASTSIDE. They’ve been known as THE SCOUT, but that’s not all they are. They’re known to associate with THE REFUGE, when they’re not busy with MANAGING A STALL AT OSAERIN'S ABYSS. Some may say they act STUBBRON & HARD-HEADED, while others claim they are CAREFUL & RESOURCEFUL. With that being said, they’ve found the State of Calamity. ( d, she/her, 29, gmt, no triggers )

Jack was born in The Hideout, made friends and even trained alongside them until he was around fifteen years old. At that time, his father decided that enough was enough and it wasn't been run how he liked. He took Jack and the rest of his family and left, moving to a remote location within one of the few wooded areas still left in Calamity. When his father told you to do something, you did it. He was a horrible and violent man behind closed doors, and a master manipulator always. There were no questions asked, no reasoning with him; it wasn't worth the consequences.

It took about six months for his father to accumulate a small following, and whilst they all thought it was a new society and faction, Jack saw it for what it was - a cult. His fathers extreme views teetered on the edge of diabolical, but he had no idea how to handle it or do anything about it. He stayed with his father until he turned twenty-seven. His father had left him no choice when abhorrent plans were unmasked. He had told Jack in confidence what he intended to do, and the consequences of those actions were too much for the son to be able to accept.

In the dead of night he snuck out, as soon as he was far away enough he started sprinting towards The Hideout. It was difficult for him to get in, but he mentioned the Commander by name having remembered him from his teenage years, and he was granted at least a few moments to speak with Axel. Jack relayed the plans he'd found, the explosives he'd uncovered and told them that they were all in danger. His father was not someone to make a plan and not execute it; he must've seemed desperate enough to be trusted as that night a team that included Jack set out towards his fathers cult to put an end to it.

There was a fight, of course, his father wasn't going to go down without one. There were lives lost on both sides, including Jack's father. Most items including the explosives were confiscated to be taken apart and have their parts used for other things, or destroyed. The people had a choice - to come back with them, or go it alone.

Since then, Jack has stayed with The Hideout - now The Refuge - and worked his way up in the ranks. He's earned himself the role of Strategist; a confidant and a trusted person to work on strategy and planning for all things The Refuge may need. He is a voice of reason, gives unbiased opinions without being afraid of voicing them. Everyone knows he wants the best for them, for the whole of humanity, and he's proven that time and time again. He leads hunters on hunts, and the scouts on scouting missions, working closely with his fellow Strategist the entire time to do so.