#to even consider there's something wrong... yeah

[chrisisvbun]

big mouth.

synopsis: clark would never allow anyone to make you feel left out — not even your family.

warnings: family issues, fluff and comfort.

a/n: just had a shitty moment with my family and I'm trying to calm down while thinking: what would clark do if he saw all this?

clark always noticed how, at the begging of your friendship, you were small. not in a physical way, but in terms of behavior. not talking much, smiling once in a while, tired looking. quiet in general. that until the group of the daily planet went out for drinks one friday night. that's when clark fell, and he fell hard.

you laughed, loudly, the kind of laugh that makes your belly ache, eyes watery, not trying to look nice, just genuine happiness. you told stories, talked loudly, interrupted when you considered needed, just genuine you.

clark loved it, he loved that and he loved that in you. so when you started dating, he insisted on you letting go and being yourself, and he could tell that was a hard thing to ask. that you, sometimes, had to do it consciously.

but you grew out of it, and clark fell more and more in love with you everytime you did it.

until he met your family.

you had two sisters and your parents, you always talked little about them because you don't seem to talk to them much these days. but still, never bad things, clark could tell you didn't think your parents were mean to you.

so he meets them and they are nice. to him. your mom touches his arm when she laughs and your dad jokes with him to make him feel welcome. your sisters laugh and roll their eyes whenever your parents make a boomer comment, a complicity. everything seems nice.

that until you are excited about something and your mom places her hand on your shoulder. clark can see the light in your beautiful eyes die as you clear your throat and end your story seconds later. you fidget, you nibble your bottom lip, not even clark's hand in your thing could soothe you. this was mayor.

when playing something together, you got excited again, clark smiled, enamored with how your face lit up, until your sister shushed you. she shushed you. and told you to quiet down. your full grin turned into a small smile that then turned into a sad looking face. clark felt like he was watching the person he first met before the bar that friday.

he makes an excuse, says you have to go quickly and you don't fight. everyone nicely says goodbye and when you leave, clark can see how you let out a breath, like you didn't know you were holding it.

in the car, you smile.

"what do you think?" you say, and clark frowns when he perceives joy in your tone.

"I mean... they were... something."

you frown now. "they were really nice to you."

"yeah, to me. not to you."

"oh, that." you look away. "yeah, I'm used to it, it's the usual with them."

"well." clark says as he parks in front of his apartment. "I didn't like them." he gets out of the car, you follow him.

"clark, come on." you sigh, because you know he is right.

his hand drags you to his apartment in silence, he is waiting for you two to be in a comfortable environment to talk.

the sigh he lets out when he closes the door lets you know he will start. his hands move to your waist, placing a gentle kiss in your forehead as he lifts you onto the counter.

"I won't let anyone treat you like an outsider, even less if you are anything but an outsider. baby, your sister shushed you." his hands stroke your thighs as he pecks your nose, his tone is soft, like a cuddle.

"I didn't wanna argue with her in front of you." you huffed, your hands move to stroke his forearms, nails moving up and down on his skin.

"it's not about arguing, it's about that they don't say and do that to you. they shouldn't treat you like that." his eyes softened when you shrugged.

"I mean, they are not wrong." you sighed. "I am loud."

he shakes his head like he is horrified. he presses his forehead against yours, taking deep breaths. "never quiet down, baby. never be quiet, never shrink, never shut up. I need you to be loud, I want you to be loud. I love how your face lights up whenever you get excited, I love how you yap and ramble about the colums you are working on, it fills me with life."

you look up at him as if trying to check if he was being genuine. he was, those big round eyes could never lie to you like this. you nod, and put on a grateful smile, nudging your noses together.

"I love you, dork." you say softly, sighing with relief.

"love you to, big mouth."

[igorluvr]

‘OBJECT OF YOUR AFFECTION | choi su-bong x reader

PAIRING: winner!bf!thanos x calm!innocent!reader

CONTENT: mentions of murder & drug use/overdose, trauma, ptsd, angst and fluff

SYNOPSIS: your boyfriend’s been missing for days, and you’re freaking out. maybe he relapsed, or got caught up in some trouble. but when he finally shows up, five whole days later, he’s 45.6 billion won richer and acts like it’s no big deal. and what‘s his first thought? spending every last penny on you.

AUTHORS NOTE: this is so cute omg i love this @milescrypt thank u for sending this request i hope u enjoy !!!

words: [2.4k]

FIVE days. A hundred-twenty hours with no sign of Su-bong. You ran through every rational explanation, clinging to the hope that something reasonable had happened. The two of you had been doing good together—going on dates, refraining from arguing, he even quit drugs for you. But now, you weren’t sure if any of that mattered anymore.

You searched up and down for him. Called his friends, his sister, even his old dealer—desperate enough to ask if he’d seen or heard anything. But he didn’t, nobody did. It was like your boyfriend had vanished into thin air.

After day three, your panic twisted into something darker. You considered the worst, but not with panic—with a quiet dread. Was he bleeding out in a bathroom stall somewhere? Did he relapse? Or was he simply ignoring you because he regretted everything?

You stopped eating, stopped showering. Not out of mania, but because you didn’t see the point. Your body stayed wrapped in blankets, still on the mattress that used to smell like him. The curtains stayed drawn while your phone lit up, ignored and untouched.

As you sat in your small apartment, silent, the front door suddenly clicked open. You didn’t move, you didn’t even flinch. A couple days ago, you might’ve jumped up. But now, there was no urgency, no spark. Whether it was him, someone else, or no one at all—what did it matter anymore?

You heard the soft rustle of movement, keys settling onto the counter, the door clicking shut behind him. Then footsteps; slow, cautious almost, until they stopped at your doorway. When he finally appeared, your eyes met his. You didn’t sit up, just looked at him.

Su-bong stood there quietly, like he was unsure if he should even be breathing in your presence. A massive bouquet of flowers weighed down one of his arms. They were bright, full—your favorite color paired with the flowers you loved most.

“Hey.” he said, voice low. You blinked once, attempting to find a way to put all of your thoughts into words. “You’re here.” you spoke

A pause. He nodded like he wasn’t sure whether that was an accusation or a relief. “Yeah, I am.” His head hung low in embarrassment and shame as he shifted his weight between his feet.

Your gaze dropped to his body, then the flowers, then back to him. “What’s all that for?”

“I… I got these for you." He murmured, presenting the flowers to you as his gaze held on the floor. As much as you wanted to walk away, you couldn't deny that the bouquet was absolutely stunning.

You stayed quiet for a moment, expression unreadable. Then calmly spoke “You ghosted me for five days, Su-bong. No text, no call, no explanation.”

“I know.” he said quickly. “I—fuck, I know. I just—I didn't know what to expect. I mean, I needed money but... shit. I'm really sorry baby.”

Studying his body language, you looked him up and down once, then twice. As much as you were disappointed in him, something about him looked off.

He didn’t have that usual spark in his eyes, or as much color in his face—he looked broken. Even while holding the biggest, brightest flowers you’d ever seen, he was still drained.

Walking up to him slowly, you cupped his face as you inspected him even more. “What’s wrong?” you asked with genuine concern.

He leaned into your hand like he’d been starving for touch, eyes fluttering shut for a second. “Nothing, I’m okay now” he said, too quickly. “I just... had to do something.”

You didn’t say anything, just kept your hand on his cheek. You could feel the tension locked in his jaw, in the way his shoulders stayed too high. “I wanna make it up to you. Let me take you out, anywhere you want.” he added, flashing a bright smile at you.

You raised a brow. “Right now?”

“Yeah. Get dressed, I’ll wait.” Su-bong urged as he tilted his head into your hand, looking down at you with those deep brown eyes. You watched him for a moment longer, then pulled your hand away. “Okay.”

You walked into the bathroom and shut the door behind you, peeling off your sweatshirt with lazy, dragged-out movements. The air felt heavy, yet quiet. An uneasy feeling sat in your stomach that you couldn't quite place, but you ignored it as you stepped into the steaming water.

The shower was brief and uneventful, the way everything had been lately. You washed without thinking, without worrying—just letting the warm water rinse away the thoughts you couldn't explain. You weren’t the type to raise your voice or spiral, your stillness ran deeper than that. It was your way of surviving.

When you stepped out, you wrapped yourself in a towel and peeked through the bathroom door. “I forgot my clothes” You spoke, water dripping from your legs as you entered the room.

Su-bong looked up from where he sat on the bed. “It's alright, take your time.”

You nodded softly and crossed over to the dresser, opening the drawers slowly. Your fingers skimmed through folded clothes until you settled on something light and comfortable. As you turned, your eyes landed on his thick, oversized jacket hanging off of the bed.

A gold credit card rested between your fingers—sleek, untouched. His name was printed in bold, clean letters across the front, confirming what you already knew but still struggled to believe: it was real.

You blinked as your brows furrowed, just slightly. He didn’t have a credit card. Hell, he barely had a debit card. There were times you had to cover Ubers or split instant noodles just to get through the week.

Turning back toward him, you held the card carefully in your hand. “Su-bong?” you said softly, looking at him with an ache in your chest.

He glanced up at you quickly, as if he were caught off guard by your voice. “Yeah?” Holding the card between your fingers, you brought it closer to him, giving a better view. “When did you get this?”

His gaze dropped to the card immediately. There was a pause—just a second too long. His breath hitched slightly as he spoke up “Oh… that." he said. "Just recently, couple hours ago.”

Your voice remained even, soft with curiosity. “It’s nice.”

“Yeah.” He smiled faintly, but it didn’t quite match his voice. “I figured it was time to get some things in check.”

You nodded slowly “How’d you get it?”

He scratched the side of his neck, looking away. “I just… had an opportunity. Got lucky, I guess.”

“What kind of opportunity?”

“Babe...” he said with a breathy laugh, stepping closer to take the card from your hand “you don’t need to worry about that. Everything’s good now. I just wanted to do something nice for you. That’s all.”

You let him take it. You didn’t push, but you watched him closely as he slid the card back into his jacket pocket like it had never left. His eyes were softer now, almost pleading. “I know I scared you. I just needed time to sort things out. I’m okay, I promise.”

You nodded gently, as if the entire situation never even happened. “I believe you.” you said, because you did. At least, the parts he was telling you. You trusted that he'd tell you when the time came. After all, he was your boyfriend. He wouldn't keep anything from you unless it was absolutely necessary.

You slipped your shirt on, smoothing the wrinkles as you spoke “Ready when you are.”

“Yeah” he said, stepping beside you, his tone light. “Let's go, pretty girl—there’s a whole mall with your name on it.”

You gave him a small, confused look. “A mall?”

"Mhm” he grinned. “Shoes, clothes, food court, all of it. You deserve some fun.” He held the door open for you with a slight grin “After you.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips gave you away. You hadn’t smiled like this in days, and as much as you were worried, Su-bong made your mood a million times better.

The mall wasn’t even crowded, but Su-bong treated it like your personal playground. Every time your eyes lingered on something—perfume, a purse, an outfit that day way out of your budget—he grabbed it like he was on a mission.

“I like this one, it's cute” you said, holding up a cropped t-shirt that caught your eye.

Quickly, he leaned in, eyes on you instead of the sweater. His eyes lit up as he watched you inspect the cloth, gaze filled with nothing but admiration. “I like it too. Mostly because it’s about to be on you, though.”

“Su-bong!” you laughed, lightly nudging his side. He winked, then added it to the growing pile of clothes stacked in his arms.

He made you try things on as he waited outside the fitting rooms, pacing dramatically, constantly asking, “Are you ready to make the whole mall stop breathing?”

When you stepped out in a soft pink dress, he actually clutched his chest “How are you so pretty and so calm about it?” he whispered, stunned.

You blushed, ducking your head as you turned back inside, and when you came out, he was holding a boba cup in each hand.

“Got your favorite” he said as he offered it up gently. “The guy at the counter said I was whipped, can you believe that?”

You giggled as you took the drink, your hand brushing his. “You are whipped.”

“Yeah, proudly.” he agreed with a smile, sipping from his own straw.

You weren’t sure when it turned from shopping to spoiling, but at some point, maybe when he swiped his card for the third pair of heels you didn’t need but kind of loved, you realized he was on a mission to spoil you absolutely rotten.

“Baby, I don’t need all this.” you said gently, arms full of bags from stores you used to only window-shop through.

He stopped walking and gave you that look—the tilted head, the soft grin, the kind that made you feel seen. “I know you don’t need it” he said, adjusting the stack of boxes and bags in his arms. “That’s why I want to give it to you.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard by how solemn he was. “I just want to see you happy” he added. “Wearing cute things, holding pretty bags. You’ve been through hell with me and you never asked for a single thing, now I get to give you everything.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he was already guiding you into the next store, a jewelry boutique.

You froze slightly, hovering in the doorway. “Babe, no.”

“Babe, yes.” he teased, pulling you inside. The lights danced on glass counters and the velvet-lined displays. You walked slowly, fingertip barely brushing over the delicate silver chains and sparkling rings.

“I don’t need diamonds.” you whispered, smiling shyly.

Su-bong leaned in close behind you. “I know, that’s what makes you deserve them more.”

He ended up picking out a necklace for you with a soft shimmer and a dainty cross, matching the one he wore. He clasped it around your neck himself, standing behind you in the mirror.

“Perfect, like it was made for you.” he said.

You turned, looking up at him with wide, glistening eyes. “You really don’t have to do all this.”

“I know, but let me.” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

The two of you ended up sitting on a bench by a fountain, the sun filtering through the skylight above. Bags were piled by your feet, drink halfway gone as your shoulder gently pressed against his.

For a moment, you just sat there. No tension, just warm light and his steady breathing next to yours. “I missed you.” he said suddenly, voice softer now.

You turned your head slightly. “I know, I missed you too.”

He looked down at your hand, then carefully threaded his fingers through yours. His palm was warm, a little clammy, but still comforting. He gave your hand the tiniest squeeze, like he was afraid to do too much all at once. “I’m gonna do better, I swear.” he murmured.

You didn’t say anything right away, just squeezed his hand back, thumb brushing his knuckles. The fountain bubbled behind you like background music as the sunlight broke into warm shards across the marble floor.

“I can tell you’re trying” you said quietly, after a moment. “Even if you don’t say it.”

He didn’t move—just blinked hard a few times and let out a breath like he’d been holding it all day. There was something about your voice when you were calm like this, collected but still gentle, that made him feel like he could finally unravel.

You shifted closer, letting your head rest against his shoulder. “You’re carrying something heavy, Su-bong. I see it. I might not know what it is yet, but I’m not going anywhere.”

His jaw tensed, then softened slightly. “I just… I didn’t think I’d make it out of there.” he admitted, voice low with shame. “And now that I did, and you’re still here, I don’t know what to do with all this time.”

You stayed silent, letting the weight of his words settle before answering. “Then we’ll figure it out together.” you said softly. “One day at a time."

He turned to look at you then, and there was that expression: hope, fear. You smiled at him, gaze calm and unwavering. You weren’t afraid of his past or whatever he was too afraid to say.

As the sun began to set, painting the mall in a beautiful glow of orange and pink, the two of you stood shoulder to shoulder, gathering your bags with no rush. He held the heaviest ones without question, his hand brushing your back every few steps.

There was a quiet in him that hadn’t been there before. Not emptiness, but peace. When your eyes caught his under the glow of the fading sun, something unspoken passed between you. A future, maybe one with steadier ground—a home.

You didn’t see the smallest bag tucked deep into one of the shopping totes he carried: A velvet ring box hidden beneath tissue paper, purchased when you weren’t looking. He hadn’t said anything, not yet. But he would.

You didn’t need to ask.

Some things were already understood.

[ifyouweremine]

In a World of Boys | Clark Kent

PAIRING: Clark Kent x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: You're tired of bad dates, but it's easier to deal with the fact that not every man is like Clark Kent when you come home to him cooking you dinner after your SOS text gets sent to the wrong person.

WARNINGS: None? Reader has a bad date with an entitled man but Clark makes it better

W/C: 1.5k

You walked through the front door of your apartment and the smell of breakfast cooking wafted down the hallway to greet you. Which was odd, considering it was almost nine p.m and you lived alone. Kicking off your shoes and leaving them alongside the familiar sneakers you’d grown used to seeing by your door, you headed for the kitchen, completely at ease because there was only one person you knew that would be cooking breakfast for dinner.

Clark Kent, in his sweats and an old t-shirt, was standing with his back to you while he fried off bacon in the pan he was watching. Dropping your bag in the doorway, you leaned against the frame and said, "Who let the riff-raff in here?"

He turned to you and smiled that infectious, winning grin that made everything else melt away. "Hi, you're back."

"Yeah," you said, glancing around your kitchen. "What are you doing here?"

Clark shrugged. "I got your text about your date, so I figured I'd come over and cook for you just in case you hadn’t eaten."

Your eyes widened as you pushed off the doorframe and pulled your phone from your pocket. "I swear I sent that to Lois. I thought she was ignoring me."

It was hardly your fault that you didn't check who you were texting. Lois and Clark were the two people you contacted most frequently and in your panic back at the restaurant, you clearly hadn't been paying much attention to your contacts. You’d also been four glasses of wine deep, so you couldn’t be entirely accountable for your actions. Sure enough, instead of your SOS text going to Lois, you'd sent it to Clark.

To: Spaceboy I'm about to jump out of this bathroom window and we haven't even ordered yet. I'm so serious.

Then, not five minutes later.

To: Spaceboy Best believe I jumped out of that window.

You grimaced, dropping your phone onto the counter. "That was meant for Lois."

Clark shrugged. "I assumed as much." He offered you a sympathetic smile. "Wanna talk about it?"

You didn't, but Clark had this natural way of coaxing you into conversation even when you didn't feel like talking. He was a good listener, so as he continued cooking and your stomach started rumbling at the prospect of food, you regaled him with the details of your date that ended before it truly began.

Your date had shown up forty-five minutes late, during which time you had not one, but three waiters approach you and remind you that if you weren't going to order, you would have to give up your table. A small part of you felt humiliated by the fact that they kept giving you sympathetic looks because it was obvious that you’d been stood up, but your anger waylaid the embarrassment and consumed you instead. You'd polished off at least four glasses of wine before your date finally arrived and had asked the waiter to just leave the bottle after the second glass.

He had sat down without so much as an apology for being late, snapping his fingers at the nearest waiter to get him a drink. In the ten minutes that you spent pretending to be interested in the menu while secretly plotting how to escape, all he had talked about was himself.

"And then!" you said, on a roll with your story. Poor Clark was just along for the ride but seemed quite content to hang on and see it through. "I went to order my food and he interrupted me and was like, 'She'll have the salad'." You put on a deep voice to impersonate him. "Then he looked me up and down like there was something wrong with me. It was so embarrassing!”

You hadn't realised how much that had hurt you in the moment, having been too busy considering ways to get out of there, but now there were tears in your eyes as you recounted the story for Clark. He noticed the way your expression crumpled immediately and turned off the heat, crossing the room to wrap you in his arms. You accepted his hug gratefully, your body sagging against his chest as you sniffled into his shoulder.

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with you," Clark soothed, one hand rubbing your back gently. "You're beautiful and he sounds like a real jerk. Any man that doesn’t see that isn’t worth your time.”

You nodded, speaking into Clark's t-shirt. "That was when I went to the bathroom and texted who I thought was Lois."

"You seriously jumped out of a window?" Clark asked, pulling back from the hug.

You smiled, watery and a little pitiful. "I did! In heels!"

"I'm impressed," Clark commended, gently wiping your cheek with his thumb to catch the stray tears.

"You should be," you replied. "Those things were killing my feet but I stuck the landing like an absolute pro.”

"I'm sorry your date was bad," Clark said.

You shrugged. "Sometimes I forget that not all men are like you."

"What?" Clark asked.

Your eyes widened, worried that all the wine might’ve gone to your head and convinced you that speaking your feelings was a good idea. "I just mean- You're always so sweet and considerate. I watched you apologise to a parked car the other day because you bumped into it. I mean, you came over because you assumed I haven't eaten - which I haven't - and you're cooking me dinner even though you didn’t have to."

"Well, it’s breakfast,” Clark said.

"Well, whatever it is, it counts," you said. "In a world of boys, Clark Kent, you are a true gentleman." You reached up and placed a hand on his cheek. "I really appreciate you and I don’t tell you that enough.”

Clark's cheeks were flushed, clearly not expecting a compliment like that. It really wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for him to come over and cook for you. He'd been sitting in his apartment doing nothing, moping over the fact that you were out with another man. He was half-hoping for an extraterrestrial attack to occupy him for a while and distract him. When that text had come through, it was like the universe was sending him a sign and he had listened.

"I'm grateful for you too," he replied.

Your smile was enough to convince him that maybe he'd made the right choice in coming here. Even though there were still tears in your eyes that another man had caused, at least Clark knew that he’d done the right thing by coming here. As he went back to fixing up your dinner, you continued to watch him move around your kitchen with practiced ease. The conversation between you flowed so naturally and you found yourself laughing by the time Clark had finished cooking.

He plated up the food when it was all ready, carrying both plates through to your living room. You disappeared into your room for a minute to change out of the dress you'd worn for the date, emerging in a pair of cotton shorts and a t-shirt you were pretty sure once belonged to Clark. He gawked at you from the couch for a second before realising that he was staring and awkwardly cleared his throat.

"Feel better?" he asked, holding out your plate as you sat down beside him.

"Much better," you replied. "Thank you for cooking. You really didn't have to."

"I know, but you had a bad day," Clark said. "I wanted to make it better."

"One of these days you're going to make a lucky woman very happy," you said, stabbing at your scrambled eggs.

Clark looked at you again. You were sitting cross-legged on the couch, body angled towards him as you used a cushion in your lap as a rest for your plate. He had always thought you were beautiful, but there was something so charming about the way you looked in this moment that made his heart swoop in his chest. You looked so natural and at ease, sitting here with him like it was the only place you wanted to be. If he could freeze this moment and keep it forever, he would.

"Can I ask you something?" he asked.

You looked up at him, sensing the shift in his tone and putting your fork down. "Anything."

"Would you like to go out with me?" His heart was pounding in his chest, a tattoo of anticipation against his ribs as he waited for your answer. "I just- If I don't ask this now, I won't ever and- and I know you've just come back from a date but-"

"Clark, are you asking me on a date?" you asked, gently cutting across his ramble.

He nodded. "I am. Only if you want to, of course."

"Only if I want to?" you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, yeah," Clark said. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable-"

"I'd love to, Clark," you said.

"Really?"

You nodded. "Yeah, I'd really like that."

Clark blew out a long breath. "Okay, great. Uh... How does tomorrow night sound?"

"I’m free tomorrow night," you said. "Thank you, Clark."

"For what?" he asked.

"For making a bad night better," you replied. "Seriously, you just saved my Friday night."

He blushed again and looked down at his plate. "It was nothing. You deserve to be treated right."

"So do you, Clark," you said.

"So, Saturday?" he said. "It's a date?"

"It's a date, Spaceboy."

[sharkbitten-sailor]

PLS may i ask of sunrise is late au 😓 if ur busy ignore this oke

WRONG PLACE TO FALL, HERO.

sunrise is late!au - forsaken [killers edition] x player!reader general headcanons ; how they react to this new survivor’s arrival. tw: swearing, ooc,,, that’s all i think

a/n; welcome back haxor!! i’m really glad you enjoyed my work <3 as you requested, here’s some more for you :]

slasher

- barely notices your existence. at least, not until his mother points you out. - nod nod,, yeah, that’s it. - what? just another random survivor got tossed in here. - ... except you’re not. - fym you can use “healing items” from god knows where?? wait, are those the actual sfoth swords??? aren’t those shedletsky’s?? and are you seriously throwing around those damn cards again?!? - he’s confused. and annoyed. a lot of both. doesn’t like being caught off guard. - sure, his mother warned him to stay alert,, but this,,,, this is unexpected. unpredictable. even his mother herself didn’t see this coming. - he now considers you the most annoying survivor he’s ever faced. yes, even more irritating than shedletsky and two time. - will either hunt you down first or purposely leave you for last. no in-between. - grudgingly admits your tricks are impressive and wild. venomshank one day, then some item that,, like,.. - ... an egg that brings dead survivors back to life. questionable. deeply. - you’re freaking impossible to counter. he’ll probably need five timelines to predict even one move. - you might catch him pausing just for a beat, watching you pull out some new nonsense,.. - he’ll recover. maybe. eventually. - well at the very least, it’s something different, in a place where everything’s an endless loop of screams, blood, and recycled terror. lowk refreshing👍 - overall: he’s chillin. (+ mildly irritated) your methods are unpredictable, and way too effective for his comfort.

c00lkidd

- oooohhh!! new friend to play tag withh!! - he locks onto you the moment he sees you. not out of malice; just pure, restless curiosity. he just wants to see if you can keep up!! - WOAH! stamina like that?? now that’s exciting!! a friend that actually doesn’t get tired so quickly!! - he likes you already. like, a lot. - which means,,, yes, you’re his favorite target now. - and as for your tricks,,, he’s mesmerized. like shiny magic to him. sometimes he just stops mid run, wide eyed, tail twitching, completely enthralled. - that said, he’s not a fan of everything. like that little ticking clock thing,, it scrambles his head and makes everything feel spinny and awful. or the magnifying glass that shrinks him down to a bug (he likes being smol,,, but now he can’t catch anyone!! no fair!!) - use an item and kaboom, he’s suddenly beside you, bouncing up and down. “i wanna try!! c’monnn lemme try next!! i’ll be soooo gentle!!” - most of your items are tasty, some even end up on his favourite list. you can literally just give them to him, and he’ll be stunned. passively. for a few seconds. still effective, heh? - “HEY!! twins!! you got a firebrand too! that’s so awesome!!” his whole face lights up. he’s vibrating with joy- - right up until you hit him with it. - he stares. blinks. then lets out a little giggle. “it’s okay!! i mess up like that too!!” he’s not upset. not really. - maybe you could stun him like the others do,,. but it always leaves a bad taste. he’s still just a kid, after all. - in a different world, he’d be that kid glued to your side. asking a million questions a minute, showing you every rock he picks up, trying to hold your hand. - but not here. not in this universe. still, it’s a beautiful thing to imagine. - he thinks your call cards are your squad, your besties. he waves at them, makes up nicknames, tries to get them to like him. - they don’t. not really. not as much as you do. *coughs griefer coughs* - yet you’re patient and kind. you get him. he’s still little, still learning, still unsteady in a world that turned too sharp too fast. - and maybe when they look at him, they see a killer. - but you, you still see the kid. that alone is enough. - personally, he likes the red one best. “red noob,” you called him? yea that one’s his favorite. the blue one though? nope. reminds him way too much of bluududd... so hard pass. - still, he insists he’s cooler than both. mostly because- well, he’s taller, obviously!!

1x1x1x1

- ah, the embodiment of hatred themself. - same boat as slasher, barely a glance your way. or maybe he does notice, but only with that “ah, fresh meat” kind of look. - the plan is always the same: 1. test the target, 2. find a way counter, 3. eliminate. - ...so why the hell is he still stuck on step 1...? it’s been a whole week since your first run-in. - blame your annoyingly effective bag of tricks. dozens of stupidly useful gadgets, each one more infuriating than the last. - yes, she now regrets underestimating you, assuming you were simple. - unlike c00lkidd or slasher, 1x doesn’t waste time watching from afar. he charges straight in to slash your gear out of your hands before you even activate it. - sometimes it works. most times, ehhh it doesn’t. - once, your gadget set him on damn fire. another time, he collapsed mid chase, unconscious. thanks to whatever luck-based system you’re tapped into. - he (barely) learns. starts tracking your items and how to counter them. now you either have to keep switching them up or actually think a little before using them. - he’s so pissed off to the point the whole matches go by with him deadly focused on you and only you. other survivors are nothing but background noise. unless they’re dumb enough to jump in and save you. - logic? gacha based trust. like your swords and those cursed cards weren’t already breaking half the world’s physics. - they’re still reeling from the realization you have half of the sfoth swords. wonders if that chicken handed them over like some absolute fool. - eventually figured out. yes, you even have the venomshank, the sword with no available copies itself. - at some point, he held off, waiting for you to finally draw it. just pull it out already damn it. STOP USING THE FIREBRAND. they’re NOT flammable. - you thought he was like griefer,,, distant relatives perchance?? - when you did finally switch, he sparred with you. you, venomshank. them, daemonshanks. - lowk impressed by your reflexes, your item synergy, and that annoying little smirk when you land a hit and know it. look how proud you are. pathetic. - maybe you’re not as foolish as she first thought. - if you’re wondering why hatred isn’t mentioned here, well, it’ll be in another post. 1x part is already long enough :] - and those call cards? she wants to burn every last one. yesterday it was some edgy plant punk. today, a royal icicle man. - actually you summon griefer most often, probably because you think they’d get along. green glowsticks and all yk,, - spoiler: they don’t💔 - meanwhile you’re just standing there watching them claw at each other like two stray alley cats fighting over a bread crisp. - overall: one-sided rivalry. she looks at you like an annoying pest you are. - meanwhile, you’re just vibing. barely thinking, except for the part where he seems to hate you more than anyone else. did you do something bad to him... ? - so naturally, you offered her a lime macaron as a peace treaty. - he said nothing. just stared at you with that look. like he’s calculating the exact velocity required to throw you into the sun.

john doe

- this guy. heavy ooc warning💔💔 - ik he will forget you eventually but let me cook chat (you can image as this au hc that john has more braincells </3) - he genuinely can’t tell if you just got here or if you’ve always been here. time folds in on itself when the corruption claws at your brain. - but nuisance? that, he does recognize. your presence is too persistent to be forgotten, no matter how fogged his mind gets. - he couldn’t outline your face if he tried. but your movements; imprinted. - nuisance is too small a word. he doesn’t understand what you are. only that you keep coming back to mess things up in the way that... defy logic. - and so, he have decided you’re a puzzle. one he needs to solve. - he noticed how nothing about you is typical. your loadouts are random. your energy is chaotic. every encounter leaves him more confused, curious even. - there was a rare time you were the last one standing. low hp. no stamina. no time left to pull anything from your inventory. - he had you cornered. nowhere to run. no escape hatch, no miracle waiting. so you did the only thing your fading instinct offered: you raised your bloodied and trembling arm to shield your head. eyes shut tight. bracing. - but nothing came...? - instead, he just loomed. motionless. eyes locked, like he was dissecting you with every glance. curious. calculating. just studying and trying to make sense of the anomaly in front of him. - and of course, being the strange little wildcard you are, you dug into your bag and pulled out the ice storm. - activated. - and then came yet another surprise: not only did it deal no damage, he even seemed a little... soothed by it? did that count as a success...? - then you figured out: the corruption doesn’t just cloud him, it burns him. a constant internal heat, gnawing and wild. - so of course cold would calm it. your ice storm didn’t harm him, it grounded him. cooled the fever that never fades. - based on that: don’t ever try using the firebrand, or get ready to be targeted for a full 10 ahh rounds. maybe less if you try to make up for it. - some rounds after, he clings to you during lms. not to hunt, just to stay close. that flicker of cold you bring is the only thing that quiets the burning inside. - unless it decides it wants you dead, and twists john’s corruption even deeper. - at least some parts of him don’t want you dead. he only finishes you off under its influence. - he actually likes to rest the corrupted parts of himself, like his arms beside you, drawn to your natural cold. (/projecting) - sometimes, when you least expect it, he’ll grab you by your coat collar and lift you like an unruly kitten. blame your naturally cold aura again i guess. - poor coat though. always ends up paying the price. - although he seems easy to trick, it wants to mess with you, so either 1) your items vanish into thin air, or 2) bad luck claws into you like a leech. - add here for shit and giggles: john and cruel king would be friends.

azure

- 1x already warned the other killers, and azure actually took note. - the moment they spot your glowing firebrand from afar, it hits them. it’s you. the pest who’s somehow gotten under the skin of hatred incarnate more times than they can count. - he’s instantly on edge. not panicked, just honed in. hyper-aware. that rare kind of alert that says: “me need plan. now.” - every move you make gets dissected. every item you use is studied, counter-strategized, logged. - ... logged into their notebook of course... because, let’s be real, no one’s brain can keep up with your nonsense. - he’s trying to find patterns. common threads in your chaos. buuut it’s like trying to fold smoke </3 - because you’re not just another wildcard. you’re the wildcard. and he’s not letting himself be caught off-guard again. - it mostly works. mostly yea. but when it doesn’t, a dozen surprises explode in his face/neg - last time,,, a whole pile of sand. thrown. directly. into his face. WHERE THE FUCK DID YOU EVEN GET THAT FROM this round? a freaking live bat. alive and flapping. barely did any damage, sure. but somehow you got healed afterward?? did the bat bring you his blood or something??? - he’s confused, pissed, curious... all at once. - they don’t hate you quite like 1x does. it’s more like you’re an unrelenting itch they can’t quite reach. - but when you help that thing (aka 2time)? oh, they get tense. twitchy. the usual hiss, the usual tentacle flick. - then again, he does that to everyone who plays the protector. so maybe it’s not just about you. maybe. - still, you’ve clearly mastered emotional whiplash. one round, you’re shielding them like some overqualified guard dog (because duh it’s just you and them left). next round, you hit them with a side-eye, yet no heal in sight. (they’ve got their second life ready and you even dropped some defense-up items to lessen the weakness effect,,) bold. very bold. - to say, in your view, he’s clearly the smartest killer. always countering your moves, predicting your tricks. but you? you learn too. like the little mischief goblin you are. - you wield the firebrand the most, because of course you do *flowers = plant. plant < fire !11!!1* - and it... works??? wow!! thanks to pokemon then, it taught you this🫶 - in return, he dislikes you even more now. maybe it’s the searing pain of being burned alive. maybe it’s because you keep turning his flowers to ashes. maybe both. who knows. - perhaps,,, if you told them you were also really into plants and flowers kinda stuff, you two could, like,,, bond? you haven’t tried that yet, though. it’s just a fun thing to image. - if there’s anything he does like about you, which, he would never admit out loud, it’s: - watching you reset yourself. it’s entertaining. like watching chance’s gun explode for no reason. especially that time you tried the forbidden drink when hp is low - and your flexibility. they want to hate this part. it’s infuriating, really. you shouldn’t be able to dodge their tentacles like that. - when you dodge his attacks, it almost looks like you’re dancing with him. there’s a flicker of delight in your movements, and yes he notices. - your touch is cold, always. but if you asked him again... whether he’d accept it, let you linger,, then he’d nod. wordlessly,.. - one time he had you, absolutely had you, tentacles drawn, poised for a direct hit. and you just. slid away. like water. or regret. somehow. - he’s intrigued by your call cards. they remind him of... something. from before. not that it matters anymore. - griefer draws his attention the most. of course it’s him,,, again.,, - they like all of his plant-themed stuff, though it reminds him of 1x’s transparent torso. still, they’re not fond of his attitude. - they actually prefer cruel king’s. it suits their way of speaking better. cuz he has manners.

noli

- ok - after 1x threw hate speech your way, this guy stopped caring altogether. - he just tossed memes at 1x, laughed it off, and paid zero attention to their words. - you better regret this ena genderbend. you better do. - once he spots you in the match, he leaves you for lms on purpose. - and, he’ll admit it: it’s hard as hell. - you just won’t stop pulling those stupid items to buff your team and heal yourself. - it’s so annoying that he’s this close to rage quitting. - so he focuses. all eyes on you now. time to get rid of the nuisance. - but even after neutralizing your gear (somehow), he still can’t take you down. why? - because you dodge like a glitch in gravity. bouncing on your shoes like you’re moonwalking through space. - every razor-thin corner? yea now your personal looping paradise. he ends up dragged like a leashless dog every time. - his best ability, hallucination,,, well, totally useless against you. - you’ll eat a snack and deck him the next second, or it just doesn’t trigger. at all. - but when you slip up, and he finally takes you down? - oh he mocks. with memes, of course... relentless ones. they sting more than you’d like to admit. - he loves it... way too much, way more than he thought he would. - at this point, eliminating other survivors (except his old bestie) doesn’t hit like it used to. - just don’t bore him too quickly. eh no worries,,, your skills are more than enough. - you’re the show now. the finale. - like slasher, either he kills you first to speedrun the rest or saves you for lms. - absolute cinema trust. - over time, you and noli kind of drift into that weird “frenemies” zone. not quite enemies, not quite allies. something between it, i guess. - maybe it’s the way you never really feared him. tossing back his dumb memes no one else gets, joking around as if you’re not on the opposite team. - sometimes you two end up chatting during matches just for shits and giggles. surprisingly fun, he admits. - lowkey- like, super lowkey, you remind him of the good times he had with 7n7. if only you were on the killer side,, sighs. - to make up for getting absolutely wrecked by a certain killer (cough cough 1x), noli only talks to you during lms. i hc that you can’t hear each other while spectating, so it’s the perfect cover. everyone just assumes he’s taunting. - but the way he laughs during those moments? way too carefree to be anything serious. - or sadist. who knows. - he’s also way too entertained watching you flame azure and 1x. loves the drama, just don’t expect him to act like them. nah, he’s not about that life. - your swords? he’s interested, but only after you’ve ranted about them. (with braincells bc can’t exactly hand a killer your weakness, right?) - the ice dagger’s his least hated. somehow, it makes him feel less rotten. like it freezes up the decay just enough to be bearable. - unlike john, it actually freezes him too, so he’d rather not deal with it again. skip, thanks. - regarding your movesets, he finds them intriguing. unlike others who rely on actual abilities, you seem to use cards instead. - sometimes he catches himself wondering if you’re into playing cards,,,,

doombringer

- he’s always locked in on his own objectives, too focused to spare you a glance. - still, he catches whispers of the others calling you ‘‘a pain in the ass’’ doesn’t react. yet... - stay out of his way, don’t exploit, don’t obstruct; simple rules, really. keep it clean and you’ll be fine. - no bj time to be an entire circus💔 - you want to be the big ahh obstacle in his path so bad, don’t you? - the look he gave you,,, it screams that he’d ban you on sight if he could. - too bad he can’t. what a pity. - but he can still slam a hammer straight to your head. - that’s why your items sometimes get crushed before they even bloom to full use. - he sees you like he sees exploiters and hackers, just way more annoying. and disruptive. - but once he saw you wielding those freaking linked swords themselves? congrats, he started paying a lot more attention. in a bad way. - not only do you exploit and block his way, now you’re out here snatching roblox items too?? - if his top priority is ‘rewriting justice’, the second is finding a way to shut you down. at any cost. - analyzes you constantly, almost like how azure does. but he insists he can memorize everything himself. - for some reason, you avoid using items in front of him. which leaves you with two choices: 1) use from a safe distance and 2) activate while he’s focused elsewhere or busy with his abilities. - yet that “focused on someone else” doesn’t really apply. because that someone is always you. - some of your gear runs on roblox logic, so it makes a breeze for him to counter. former admin privileges, remember? - your bunch of weird.. “friends” aren’t a real concern. at least that’s what he tells himself. - he sees them as just more teamers. same as those roblox hackers groups y’know? - says he doesn’t care,,, yet he still tries to eliminate them whenever possible. they’re obstacles and threats to his plans. - especially since they blindly defend you like your life’s worth more than their own. - after dozens of summon encounters, he learned two things: 1) you call your friends to sock him in the face and negate his passive, or 2) you’re out of options. - between the two, it’s almost always 1. - his passive used to worry survivors. now it’s,, just,, weaker. diluted. thanks to you. - he’ll 100% target you every time. and if he’s not? he’s probably out there clearing the others to buy time. - but you’re not letting that happen. ever.

guest 666

- she knows. just doesn’t care. not that she can though. - she’s not human anymore. she’s a wild animal at this point. - you do feel bad for her. but survival’s still survival. and she’s still a killer. - you stay gentle anyway. something tells you that she’s suffering under its influence too. just like john. - except there’s nothing much around to soothe her. your swords and items only rile her up. - still, credit where it’s due, you’re stubborn enough to keep trying. - the other survivors strongly disagreed with your plan. too risky and low chances of success. you did it anyway... sighs. - your idea is to use dusekkar’s protection and try to calm her down. bold, reckless and stupid even, you know. but hey, not a failure if it works. - and against all odds, it does. - she had you completely pinned, no way to escape; and yet you managed to reach out and,,, pat her head?.. - (dusekkar’s having the worst heart attack of his life and the others are mentally combusting in real time. griefer’s just standing there, promising to kick your ass the second this is over.) - surprise trails surprise, she leans into your touch. like it matters more than she thought it would. - for the first time ever, her eyes aren’t as manic and bloodthirsty. just,, oddly calm. - she’s so relaxed to the point you didn’t even notice that dusekkar’s protection wore off ages ago. - it proves one thing: she could’ve crushed your skull and ended you in half a second. but she didn’t. instead, she simply laid down, pressed herself against your small frame like a giant weighted blanket. - her neck fluff looks dangerous, like it could bite you back. but under your fingers, it melts into velvet. - you can tell she’s enjoying it by the low and soft hum. they call it a purr, don’t they? - ... and just like that, a giant ahh cat follows you through rounds. if only it feels like it, that is. otherwise, well,,, headless corpse. - don’t like her company? use your cards. she might sulk, but that’s all. - (she dislikes griefer. as for that royal man,,, he treats you kindly, so she tolerates him.) - i wouldn’t say g666 is harmless since those claws sting like fire. but hey she’ll apologize after. - she’s curious about your food-items. not because she can taste it fully, but because it quiets the hunger, even just a little. - you notice she’s drawn to red things. so, trying to be thoughtful, you offer her a cherry. or at least you were supposed to. - instead, you hand her a FCKING cherry bomb. - it goes about as well as you’d expect. she locks onto you for 6 rounds. you have to spend every one groveling to earn back her favor. - when she’s bored, she’ll trail her tail through the dirt and sketch out the word “sixer.” maybe that’s her name. maybe it’s the one she wants you to use. - do not draw your swords on her. it’s not brave. it’s just stupid. - and of course, none of this plays out unless the spectre gives the go-ahead. if she’s ordered to end you, it’ll be fast. the pain? that, a mystery. - maybe, if it keeps going like this... you’re going to be the sting that pulls them back together. the ache they all remember. - painful, sure. but necessary.

[rori-is-writing]

Refill

A The Pitt Reader X Drabble.

Teen | Dr. Robby x Reader | 502 words ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ Summary: You call Robby when your pain meds run out much too early. ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ Tags: Implied Childhood Neglect

Read on AO3 or Return To Drabble Masterlist.

[ A/N: So, true story, this exact situation happened to me after I had major surgery a few years back. I didn't have a Robby, but I did have a very pissed off nurse ready to murder some people for me. Wherever you are girl, I love you. ]

As a child you were taught to never complain. 

A skinned knee? “Walk it off,” your father would say. A sprained wrist after falling from a bike? “Stop complaining, it’s not like it’s broken,” your mother would scoff dismissively. A stomach ache that had you shivering and vomiting from the pain? “You don’t even have a fever! Stop being so dramatic!”

It was instances like these that led to you developing both a very high pain tolerance and a propensity for suffering in silence far beyond what most people would consider healthy. 

So, when you finally force yourself to call your boyfriend five days after major surgery, you couldn’t help but feel like you’d failed in some way. After all, you were being the worst thing you could possibly be to someone…a bother. 

“Hey,” Robby’s voice comes through on your speaker smooth but a little distracted and immediately you’re already regretting this call. The man is clearly too busy for your complaints. 

“Hey,” you parrot back, soft and hesitant. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Good!” You respond automatically, and then cringe before adding, “Actually, kind of terrible. That’s…uh…that’s why I’m calling.” 

“Oh?” Robby asks. “You okay?” 

“Well,” you begin, swallowing and clenching your eyes shut. “You remember when you told me to call you if I needed anything?” 

“What’s going on? Did your stitches tear? Honey—”

“No!” You gasp. “No, that’s not it I just…god I’m sorry, you must be so busy. I can call back later...”

“What is it?” His voice was firm. Direct. An order if you ever heard one. 

“I think I need more pain meds.” You blurt out. 

There’s a pause. Just a moment. And in that moment you’re sure he’s about to sigh with exasperation and tell you to suck it up. That you’re wasting his time before angrily hanging up on you. 

But instead…

“How many of those pills have you been taking? It’s only been a few days. How did you run out of them so fast?” He sounds…confused. 

“Well,” you say slowly, hesitantly, “They only gave me ten so I—”

“Ten.” Robby’s voice was suddenly terse. 

“…Yeah.” 

“And what did they prescribe you besides that?” 

“Just acetaminophen and ibuprofen—”

“And what were the dosages?”

Now you just feel confused. Did he sound…angry?

“Umm, 400 mg of the ibuprofen and 500 mg of the acetaminophen but—”

Robby swears. 

You blink. 

He almost never swears in front of you. Not unless he’s really lost his temper. Did you…did you do something wrong?

“Unbelievable!” You hear him shout away from the receiver and then, “Are you fucking serious?!”

“Umm…yes?”

“You just had a whole organ removed! What the hell were they thinking?!”

You’re not entirely sure how to respond to that but you’re sure by now that he’s not mad at you but at the hospital that discharged you. 

“Double the ibuprofen and acetaminophen immediately. I’ll make a call. Hold tight.” 

Less than an hour later your refill is approved. 

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Thanks for reading! 💙

[fictfrenzy]

hi ok KPDH fandom. You wanted complex women? okay. let's talk about Celine.

Are Celine's moral teachings ("all demons are bad, your faults and fears should not be seen, Rumi is not a demon; she's a hunter with a 'defect'" out of the confirmed ones) bad or wrong?

Yes. Yeah, they are. They suck. They fail to encompass the fact that demons — according to Jinu, but also what we see when we learn how Gwi-ma controls demons — feel so much grief and are really just grieving something and made horrible decisions because of it. They fail to consider that the Honmoon doesn't need to be protected from negative feelings, but from the weak links that Gwi-ma can exploit, and that "your faults and fears should never be seen" only creates more openings. They fail to allow Rumi to accept herself, love herself, and step out of the shadow of her father's sins.

Is it Celine's fault that these "morals" exist, and got passed down to the 2010s trio, and coincidentally lead to the destruction of the original Honmoon?

No, absolutely the fuck not.???

Celine is just parroting what she heard from the trio that taught the Sunlight Sisters. Celine is just passing down what they thought was working to power the Golden Honmoon. Celine is teaching Huntr/x what she knows, what the Sunlight Sisters knew, what every trio of Hunters learned and passed down.

Is it Celine's fault that she never thought to explore the Honmoon beyond that, that she apparently never thought to truly connect with her fellow Sunlight Sisters in the name of a mantra — your faults and fears must never be seen — that has been warped by years and years of interpretations, and possibly, misinterpretations?

Yes.

But she was scared, as was every trio before her. They couldn't risk learning more about demons – that meant giving them access to the living world for longer. They couldn't risk humanizing demons either, because what if it led to trying to fix them, save them, once again giving them access to more souls for Gwi-ma?

Fucked up, right?

And yet, Celine watched a best friend of hers, a bandmate, a sister, a half of her heart, fall for a demon. And have a child. And die.

She couldn't risk that again. For Celine, that was more than enough proof that the teachings were right, even if they are way more complex than she ever dares pondering. For Celine, she lost everything when demons, because demons got involved on a personal scale.

She's scared for Rumi and Zoey and Mira, but more importantly, she's scared for the Honmoon — a weight she has held on her shoulders for her entire life, a weight every generation has held until they were spared by death. Assuming the other Sunlight Sister also died, but even if she didn't, a sacrifice was still made to free them from protecting the Honmoon.

Celine is scared for what Rumi's entire existence means and is.

It was proof enough for her that demons should be eradicated, that the golden Honmoon must be achieved, at any cost. Because she couldn't risk a loss like Ryu again, not when they had every warning shoved in their face their entire lives, and still lost someone.

The way she handles her grief and general emotions towards the Honmoon and Hunter history and whatever is absolutely horrible and she desperately needs therapy that she realistically would never be able to get. None of her feelings and traumas excuse how she hurt Huntr/x, and most individually, Rumi — you know, the only thing left of Ryu, and the constant reminder of how demons are horrible and killed her friend — but they sure as hell explain why she is the way she is.

uhhh yapfest over. debates are welcome, i feel like i missed some stuff, just be polite :P

[justreadalot]

Through Your Eyes Part 17

Part 1-4   Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9 Part 10  Part 11  Part 12  Part 13  Part 14  Part 15  Part 16 Part 16.5

On earth

Danny after getting through the rock, found he was near, not in the Wayne manor. He turned invisible, floated in and found the kitchen. 

There was an old man working in the kitchen, he was drying dishes and putting them away. He did not look happy.

“You are Alfred?” asked Danny, floating in ghost form in the doorway.

The old man looked up in surprise. “I am Alfred, who are you?”

Danny transformed back to alive form and landed on the floor. “I am Danny Fenton.”

“Danny! My dear boy, you are back,” Alfred brightened, “are any of the others back too?”

Danny shook his head. “Only ghosts can travel like I did though the ectoplasm pools. They sent me back with a package like a courier pigeon delivery. It's just very tiring. I seriously need to sleep soon. Everyone is fine.”

“Food and rest of course.” Alfred turned and brought out a huge plate of sandwiches and burgers out of the fridge. “Eat, eat, my boy.”

Danny grabbed a burger and made it vanish as fast as possible.

“Oh, this is so good.” He mumbled through a full mouth.

“Chew and swallow before talking please, Master Danny” said Alfred smiling, he then looked worried, “I hope you have not been going hungry in the strange place”

Danny shook his head as he swallowed. “We have lots of tins, vegetables and frozen meat. Even packets of chips and chocolate. But bread and eggs are long gone.”

“They make scones out of flour, oil and milk powder, but no bread.” He picked up a second burger and took a bite. A group of voices sounded in the hallway beyond the kitchen. Danny and burger went invisible.

“Danny! Danny!” Jazz, Sam and Tucker looked in the kitchen. Danny reappeared with the half eaten burger. They ran in to give him a group hug. “You are back! You are back!”

“Hey, hey, yes I am back, but I am a messenger, will be traveling back and forth. It's so great to see you all.” he finished the burger, and was looking at the plate considering if he wanted a third.

“Oh,” he said blinking

“What's wrong?” asked Jazz immediately.

“It's Damian, he is laughing at me for feeling guilty about wanting a third burger,” he noticed everyone staring at him, “the soul link, means we can feel each other's emotions.”

“Even from different dimensions?” asked Tucker interested.

“Yeah, although we can block it. It's not mind reading”

Heavy quick footsteps sounded outside the room, everyone looked up as Bruce entered the kitchen. He was holding Damian's letter, Tim was right behind him.

Bruce looked like he hadn't slept well for a while, his hair was on end.

“Everyone is fine,” blurted out Danny immediately, “we haven't lost anyone who came though.” He was feeling awe at meeting one of his heroes.

Danny felt Damian laughed and suggested he inform Bruce that Jason said something rude. (Extreme-protective/brother  rude  awe/protective/love/father). Danny sent back annoyance and blocked Damian, this is not the time to be funny. But it did make him relax and see Bruce as a father who hadn't had news about his boys for over two weeks. 

“Scientists are a paranoid bunch, when the building appeared in the ghost zone, auto anti-ghost barriers went up as whole bubbles, in the ground as around the houses, air was trapped in the bubbles as well,” explained Danny thinking facts may help, “no ghosts nor even ectoplasm could get close. The buildings all headed towards each other like they were attracted and all combined into one lump.” 

Bruce took a deep breath, his face relaxing. “how did you get to earth?” He asked gently.

“Ghosts can pass though dense ectoplasm pools, we see them as doors. I need people I know near the pools so I can see which door to go through. Damian's side is easy, Jazz, Sam or Tucker will need to be near one on this side.” Danny yawned. “I really need to sleep now, I am about to pass out.”

Bruce looked over to Tim. “Tim, take Danny to Damian's room. It's the one room that no-one will enter. Give Danny the key to it, we will keep it locked.” 

Danny followed Tim up the stairs, yawning

The final view he saw of the kitchen was the pages of Damian's letter spread all over the table, including a picture of the buildings and land drawn by Damian.

—--

[amagialp]

HELLOOOO im a new follower and i wanted to make a request!sorry if this makes u uncomfy or something but i would love some cnc with ghost

AND I LOVE UR FICS SM SO FAR

HI! welcome and thank you for the loveeee

thank you for the ask as well C:

im open for anything honestly so dont be shy! :3

hope you like it!

(MINORS DNI, HEAVY TW) -> Warnings (18+ only): CNC / dubcon themes, rough sex, restraints, masked Ghost, degradation, praise, spit, manhandling, biting, aftercare (implied), gender-neutral reader. All acts are pre-negotiated and consensual, but read responsibly.

Title: “You Can Run” Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x gn!reader Genre: Dark smut / CNC Word count: ~1,200

You agreed on the rules beforehand.

You were the one who asked for it... whispered it into his ear one night when the touches got too lazy, too soft. I want you to take it. I want you to chase me. I want you to ignore when I say no.

Simon hadn’t responded with words. He'd just looked at you. That heavy stare. The kind that weighed more than his silence ever could. You weren’t sure if he was considering it, or if he was restraining himself.

He asked the next night.

"Safe word?"

You told him. He nodded once.

No other questions.

And tonight, it starts.

You don’t even hear him come in. One minute you're getting undressed, the next you feel it, his hand...around your throat from behind, just firm enough to press you against the wall. You gasp, squirm, already aching, already drenched in adrenaline.

"You didn’t fucking lock the door," he growls into your ear.

You thrash a little, but his hand on your throat tightens, not enough to choke, just enough to remind you: you’re his now...

“I didn’t know you were coming-!”

"That’s the fucking point."

You try to turn. He shoves you face-first into the wall, one arm pinning yours behind your back, the other yanking your shirt up and over your head. It hurts. A little. Just enough. It’s rough and messy and exactly what you wanted.

His voice is low and close and cruel: “Gonna act like a dumb little slut, yeah? Leave the door unlocked for anyone to walk in? Like you want to be used?”

You shake your head. "N-no-Simon-please-"

A sharp slap lands against your ass. Then another. “Wrong fucking name,” he growls. “You don’t get to call me that when you’re acting like this.”

You bite your lip, whimpering.

His hand slides lower, between your thighs. “Already wet. Can’t fucking believe it.”

You whisper a soft, broken "no" just like you agreed to. And Ghost growls like it only fuels him more.

“You think that stops me? You think I give a shit?” he hisses, pressing your cheek harder against the wall. “That’s not how this works, sweetheart.”

Then he spins you, and your back hits the wall this time. He grabs your face in one gloved hand, tilting it up to meet his mask.

“Beg,” he orders. “Beg me not to use you.”

And you do. You say everything you agreed to beforehand-voice trembling, eyes wide, playing the role so well it almost scares you. But Ghost? He’s thriving in it. His hand slides down your body again, and you feel him, hot, hard, straining through his pants.

"Too late now,” he mutters. “You wanted this. You're gonna take it."

He shoves you to the bed, your body bouncing against the mattress before he’s on you. Gloves still on. Mask still on. Eyes burning. He flips you over onto your stomach and yanks your bottoms down in one smooth, brutal motion.

Then he spits. Right on you.

You gasp.

He leans down, voice low and hungry: “That’s all you get for lube. Be grateful.”

And then he’s inside.

One hard, deep thrust that has you arching, crying out, fingers gripping the sheets like your life depends on it. You struggle, kick a little, say "no" again in the most perfect, helpless voice you can muster.

But he doesn’t stop. He fucks into you like it’s his right. Like your body belongs to him. Like you’re a toy, a hole, something warm to ruin.

“Thought you said no?” he growls. “Funny how your greedy little body’s sucking me in.”

His hand wraps around your throat again, yanking your head back so he can growl into your ear, hips pounding against your ass, bruising, unforgiving. “You love this. Being forced. Being used.”

And you do.

You fucking do.

You’re gasping now, moaning, tears in your eyes, not from pain, but because the overwhelming filth of it all has taken over you. His grip, his thrusts, the sound of skin on skin...it’s too much.

And still not enough...

His thrusts get faster, deeper, more desperate. One hand tangled in your hair, the other wrapped tight around your hip as he slams into you over and over.

“I should leave you like this,” he hisses. “Fucked open, dripping, ruined.”

You sob something incoherent, part pleasure, part overstimulation.

Ghost groans through clenched teeth. “Cum for me. You wanna be a toy, then do your fucking job.”

And you do. It crashes over you hard and fast, your entire body locking up, spasming around him. You go limp the second it hits, a broken moan slipping out of your mouth as you feel him still.

Then, release, hot and deep inside you. He groans, teeth clenched, fingers digging into your hips like he doesn’t want to let go.

The silence after is sharp and still.

You barely feel him pull out, barely notice when the weight of him leaves the bed. You're boneless, aching, spent.

Then there’s a soft rustle. A blanket. A bottle of water cracked open. And his voice.

“Color?”

You blink, dazed. “Green.”

You hear him sigh. A relieved one.

“Good,” he says, voice low and soft now. “You did so fucking good for me.”

[roxannepolice]

And then along comes this noise. All day long, this relentless noise.

OH YEAH AND HOW DOES THAT FEEL, DOCTOR????

[anghraine]

You know, "The Corbomite Maneuver" isn't remotely my favorite episode of TOS, not in my top 10 or anything, but J and I are into S3 of TNG and I'm starting to really, really, really miss that kind of episode and the ethos that underlies its sense of their fundamental purpose:

KIRK: Intelligence different from ours or superior? SPOCK: Probably both, and if you're asking the logical decision to make— KIRK: No, I'm not. The mission of the Enterprise is to seek out and contact alien life.

-

KIRK: Those of you who have served for long on this vessel have encountered alien lifeforms. You know the greatest danger facing us is ourselves, an irrational fear of the unknown. But there's no such thing as the unknown, only things temporarily hidden, temporarily not understood.

-

KIRK: There are lives at stake. By our standards, alien life, but lives nevertheless. Captain out.

-

KIRK: Mr. Sulu, bring us to within one hundred meters. Ahead slow. SULU: Ahead slow, sir. MCCOY: Jim, don't you think— KIRK: What's the mission of this vessel, doctor? To seek out and contact alien life, and an opportunity to demonstrate what our high-sounding words mean. Any questions?

[sanjarka]

ali hazelwood being a peeta hater makes so much sense.

[fiapple]

i'm getting towards the end of the skypeia arc, & i'd like to say just how much i adore the way the female strawhats have been treated.

just... every aspect of how the way their characters have been previously contextualized influences the story-line is treated with a masterful amount of consideration. we're given so many layers to both of them that enrich not only their characters specifically, but the arc, and the one piece world as a whole. without nami & robin having their specific skills, and their specific values, without those being built upon, the story would have come to a halt.

you could not have skypeia without nami & robin being who they are as individuals. not just because they never would've gotten there without nami, but also because the way these women think is itself foundational to the machinations of the arc as a whole.

to be totally upfront, if you think any other strawhats were more central to the skypeia arc than nami & robin were you are full-on fucking lying to yourself.

[sneakyboymerlin]

People think Gwaine died because we don't see him alive at the end when they make a point of showing Percival and Leon when they announce Arthur is dead. Ofc in a real life scenario or for headcanons you can say he just wasn't there because he was healing! But in terms of visual storytelling, alongside how they shot the scene where he closes his eyes, that's pretty much confirming that their intent was to tell us he is dead. It'd be interesting to see an original script and whether they name it as a death scene or not...

Gwaine’s not going to be in the throne room when he’s just been tortured though? Even Merlin wasn’t in the throne room and he is literally immortal. When Elyan was tortured by the Nathair, he was catatonic just like Uther was for the better part of a day at least. Percival is dragging Gwaine’s unconscious body into the throne room for what purpose 💀 It’s the same as the headcanon that Merlin never returned to Camelot. There’s no proof and no real motive… People didn’t see Merlin in the throne room and assumed he never stepped foot in Camelot again. It’s an interesting headcanon, but that’s all it is: a headcanon. You can still play around with ideas like “Gwaine died” and “Merlin never returned to Camelot” but the fact that they’re unquestioningly accepted as canon gets kinda annoying when it’s not a canon fact.

[slightlytoastedbagel]

Please reply onto this with your opinions on Mutsumi later. I crave opinions about my blorbo (besides Anon)

I'm answering this now after finishing episode two (I WILL be appropriate with my avemuji intake) so

hey. what the fuck was that. I thought this was Sakiko's wheel of endless torment and then Mutsumi comes running in with "the reveal of my identity has combined with the fact that my two famous parents also put a lot of spotlight on me. I am living under the stress of doing most of the work outside of performing (partially a result of who my parents are) and my own prior issues that are definitely from my parents. it is twice now that by stating my own mind the band started by my childhood friend has come into threat*, but her own issues mean that I am left alone to struggle through mine for the sake of ave mujica. my suffering is seen as a good thing to those around me. I am truly the puppet I act as under the name Mortis."

[agapestricken]

margaret atwood, alias grace; slightly modified to say 'her' instead of 'his.'

[pollenallergie]

if my therapist tells me that i probably shouldn’t maintain a relationship of any kind with you, that’s whatever. but if even my psychiatrist says you gotta go, like… i’m sorry, it’s O V E R, overrrr.