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httpscomexe · 1 day

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is chapter 4 of runaway will be coming out soon? just genuinely asking, take your time don't feel rushed!!! i absolutely adore your fics 😍😍

Runaway 4

Summary: Xavier takes others over you, leaving you with Logan's worst nightmare. Staying with Wade Wilson.

(Find What I’m currently writing by checking my pinned post)

Parings: Logan Howlett x Hybrid!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of kidnapping, forced drinking, sexual jokes, fourth wall breaking. (Individual warnings per chapter) This will most likely be a non-con fic.

Word Count: 4155 (Find all chapters here) CH5

P.S. If you’d like to be tagged, ask in the comments, you also have permission to send an ask, but make sure it is NOT anonymous, so I know your username, don’t worry, I’m scared of confrontation too. But this is a SAFE SPACE where I will not judge. Thank you again.

It becomes sort of a routine with Logan.

Wake up, let him brush your hair, let him choose your clothes, study, eat dinner, let him brush your hair, sleep, and then repeat. Occasionally, he would have days where he was busy, and you knew better than to try finding Wade. Since he’d taken your phone as a punishment, you hadn’t been able to contact anyone else either. But you didn’t think much of it.

And right now, it was morning. The sun was shining through his open curtains, light shining onto your thighs as you sat on the floor, Logan sitting on the bench at the foot of the bed as he brushed through your hair, his fingers occasionally stroking over your ears.

“Okay, what does this word mean?” You held up the book you were reading, and you pointed at a word on the second page.

“Do you know how to say it…?” He asks you, still brushing through your hair, you weren’t sure why he still was, since there weren't any tangles left.

“Sub…Lim…” You try pronouncing the word, stuttering a little. “Inal?”

“Good, now say it all together.” He asks, taking a tie off his wrist to pull your hair up into a ponytail, but he changes his name and continues to brush it.

“Subliminal? What does that mean?”

“Read the sentence, try to figure it out…” He tells you, sectioning your hair now to part it into box braids.

“It says ‘As is typical with this method, no part… particip…ant… participant reported being aware of the sub…liminal faces.’” You struggle a little, and hear him chuckle behind you.

“Good, what do you think it means?”

“Well…” You think about it, trying to remember what Xavier had taught you about root words, and just as you’re about to explain your thought process, there’s a knock at the door, making your ear twitch slightly to the sound. “Ow…” You move your head away, the pointy end of the brush he was using the part of your hair pokes the sensitive skin of your ear.

“Shit… sorry… are you okay?” He quickly gets down to his knees, and his hand fans over your large ear, and there's another knock at the door, the person behind it getting impatient.

“I’m okay Lo, go see who’s at the door.” You gently nudge his hand away, and you watch as he sighs and stands up to open the door, leaving you to gently rub your ear. You weren’t sure why they were so sensitive, but you were sure it was because you weren’t grown in your deer form yet. You’ve only spent a few hours in that form in total in your many years of being alive, so of course, it wasn’t very… developed.

“Jean?” You can’t see too well from your position on the floor, the bed being in your way.

“Hey, I wanted to talk about something, is Bambi here?” You stay quiet.

“No, she’s out with a friend.” He clears his throat, and you understand what to do, you crawl to the other side of the bed so you wouldn’t be visible to Jean.

“Can I come in?” You hear Logan step inside, then lighter footsteps until Jean is sitting on the edge of the bed.

“So Xavier told me…” You hear the bed move a bit more, and assume Logan sat down next to her. “Having her here is too risky.”

“Too… risky?”

“Yes… Considering she’s a hybrid and all.” You hear her sigh. “Obviously, people are searching for those. And if anyone finds out that she’s here… Well… Then we’re compromising the safety of everyone in the mansion.”

“So what? He wants to just throw her out?”

“No, he will provide her with a home and clothes to hide her-”

“It’s not happening.”

“It’s not up to you, Logan.” By this time, your ears were already pinned down to the back of your head, and if you weren’t sitting on your ass, your tail would be between your legs.

“She will die…”

“She’s survived all this time alone already. What difference would there be?”

“Yea she’s survived!” He half shouts and half whispers. “She’s survived because they catch her and hold her like a fucking animal.”

“Logan, why are you whispering? We’re alone.” There’s silence for a few seconds, then a sigh comes from Jean. “Bambi, you can come out.” Your ear perks up slightly, but you don’t move, she wasn’t in control of you.

“Bambi honey, come on out.” You stand to Logan's demand, slowly before crawling onto the bed, sitting near Logan.

“Hey… Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You tell her, but your ears are still down.

“It’s just… If they find you here, it’s putting everyone else at risk, and Xavier would… Well he’d rather lose 1 hybrid than lose hundreds of mutants.”

“I understand.” You whisper, but your eyes meet Logans.

“When does Xavier want her gone?” Logan's voice comes out gruff.

“As soon as possible. He was hoping this afternoon.”

“And why isn’t he the one telling me this? Why did he send you?” She’s quiet again apart from a sigh. “God he’s a fucking pussy.” His head turns towards you. “There’s a duffle bag in the closet, start throwing our clothes in it Bambi.” He stands up, and Jean stands up with him, a stunned look on her face with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry… Our?” She watches as you disappear into the closet, and her jaw goes slack as Logan follows behind you. “No, no. Logan, you can’t leave.”

“Says who?”

“Says me, Logan. We need you on missions.” She stands at the opening of the closet, and you ignore their conversation, deciding it doesn’t have to do with you.

“You guys will do just fine without me.” He says, reaching over your head to grab a heavy jacket. “Here hun, carry this one. It’s cold outside.”

“Logan-” She grabs his arm, and tries to pull on him. “You can’t-”

“No.” His tone changes completely, from just simple annoyance to straight anger and frustration. He clearly wasn’t happy about Xaviers negligence, and the last thing he needed was the stubborn red head pulling on his arm and telling him he can’t. “I am not leaving her out alone in fucking New York to be kidnapped by another fucking gang.” He pulls his arm away from her and he points in her face. “If you guys need my help so fucking bad, then you better talk to Xavier and figure out a way she can stay here.”

“Logan, there are hundreds of lives on the line, you could at LEAST do the logical thing.”

“The logical thing?” His voice gets louder, and you take a small step away but continue folding clothes and stuffing them into the duffle bag. “I lost my entire fucking family and everyone I knew in my fucking universe, and Bambi is the closest thing I have to family here.”

“The closest thing you have to a family? Logan you fight beside us in missions that could end up with the entire state exploded to dust and what? We’re not your family?”

“No, you’re not. The Jean that was my family is fucking dead, the Xavier that was my family, guess what? He’s fucking dead…” You glance over from the corner of your eye to see Logan take a progressive step towards him with each name. “Ororo, Hank, Scott, everyone that was my fucking family is dead. So excuse me if I don’t want to see a walking fucking corpse every last waking second of my life, and be reminded of my fuck up, everytime I see you motherfuckers…” Jean was now packed into a corner, Logan's face barely inches away from hers, and you can see the way her jaw is clenching. “So don’t you fucking dare tell me what I can, and can not do. I have no connection to you, and will have no fucking problem sending three fucking blades down the centre of your throat.” She doesn’t say anything, only swallowing her spit before her eyes move to yours, still in the closet and frozen in the middle of folding a pair of Logan's jeans before you had become invested in their argument.

You’ve never seen Logan so pissed.

“Fine… Leave.” She looks back up at Logan. “Have the lives of a couple more hundred people in your hands because you left, again.” Shit… You watch as his claws slowly extract from his hands, and you put the jeans down, slowly approaching in case Jean becomes a target.

“You better take that back…” They stare at each other for a long moment. Only the sound of the fan above spinning and the heavy breathing from Logan could be heard through the room.

“Make. Me.” Logan.

“Oh…” He chuckles. Logan…! “Now you’ve done it…” Logan!

“Logan!” Your voice comes out small, and his head twitches a little as he looks over his shoulder. He looks as if he had forgotten you were there. “Can we leave… Please?” You glance down as his claws are hidden back beneath his skin, and it heals over quickly.

“Right…” He growls a little, and backs away from Jean after one last look. “Are you ready then?” He asks, ignoring Jean now as he goes into the closet and lifts the duffle bag, tossing in the last pair of jeans before zipping it up.

“Yes I’m ready…” You stand in the centre of the room awkwardly. “I guess…” You mumble, and Logan sways his hand in front of him, signalling for you to move ahead of him as he grabs his keys, and you’re out of the door quickly, leaving Jean alone in the room, and his arm slides behind your back to walk next to you.

You were sitting in the passenger seat, watching in the mirror as Logan tossed the bag in the back, slamming the door and making the truck shake a little before getting behind the wheel and starting the engine.

“So where are we going?” He sighs, thinking of an answer to the question with one hand on the wheel as he stares at nothing. Then he reaches into his back pocket, and takes out his phone, handing it to you. “Call Wade.” You take the phone. “Act happy or whatever, and ask if he has space for both you and me…” He growls a little again, looking out his window as you find Wade’s name in his contacts, and you ring it.

“Peanut? And I thought you deleted my number.” The sound of Wade's voice alone was enough to make you smile.

“No, it's me.” You chuckle a little, expecting him to recognise your voice.

“Oh, darling. Bambi, you’re using Logans’ phone. Everything okay?”

“Yes. Everything is fine. But he and I were wondering if you had space for both him and me?”

“They’re kicking him out already?”

“No, they’re kicking me out actually.”

“What? That’s ridiculous. I have the couch, and I have an air mattress that I let Logan sleep on before he left me for one-eye. You guys can obviously stay here.” Logan sighs, but he starts the engine and speaks up.

“Still living under that bridge with Althea?” He asks gruffly.

“Of course, I wouldn't want to leave this humble abode. But peanut?” Logan grunts. “Do you mind picking up dinner? I’ll pay you back. We just need pizza.”

“Sure. What kind?” He turns over his shoulder and begins backing out.

“Hawaiian, no ham. And then just normal cheese.”

“Okay.”

“Thanks pea-” Logan reaches over and hangs up before putting the truck back in forward and he drives out of the parking lot, leaving the mansion behind.

“Can we also get some brownies?” You ask, putting the phone on the centre console.

“Of course, Bambi.”

“Oh, my two most favourite things ever are here!” Wades’ voice is joyful as both you and Logan walk inside of his little home, the smell of sweat and dog smacking you in the face.

“Male strippers and cocaine?” Another voice comes from a different room.

“Bambi and pizza!” He hugs you, and Logan grunts from behind. “Male strippers is my third favourite, silly.” He calls back, letting go of you and taking the pizza boxes from your hand.

“Hey Bam, how about you go shower, the bathrooms back there.” He points to the room where the other voice came from. Just another person comes out, wearing glasses and with a white afro and walking cane in one hand.

“Who the hell gives birth and names their kid ‘bam?’” She says, feeling around a little for the couch and mumbling something along the lines of ‘why does Wade keep moving the fucking couch.’ “That’s a stupid-”

“Her name is actually Bambi.”

“That’s a little better.” Just a few sentences in conversation between Wade and Althea, and you could tell just how close they really were besides their constant bantering. “Wait, her?”

“I know right? Logan managed to pick up a little girl.” Wade says giddily, placing the pizza boxes on the table and opening them all before taking two cheese, a pineapple, and three brownies.

“Oh then it’s not as surprising, I thought she was your girl.”

“Look, Wade and I need to have a talk.” Logan says suddenly, gently grabbing your arm to get you to look at him. “How about you go take that shower, okay?” You nod, and take some clothes from the duffle bag he's set on the floor.

“I promise the bathroom is the cleanest place in this house.” Wade tells you as you walk by, grabbing a brownie as you pass him.

“Just ignore Wade's toys, he uses them when Vanessa is around.” Vanessa? “Or whenever Gossip Girls is playing… Wish I was deaf.”

You walk into the bathroom, the sound of Logan's voice disappearing as you close the door, and your eyes immediately land on the large dildo sticking to the wall, which you try your hardest to ignore and not laugh at as you turn on the faucet and remove your clothes.

With the time that you’re in the shower, Logan takes his time explaining to Wade why they need a place to stay for a while, at least until they find another place.

“God they are such pieces of shit. Like I get where they’re coming from with saving hundreds or saving one, but there’s also like either you save one hundred chickens or you save one unicorn. One’s just more important. You don’t find any mammal hybrids anymore.”

“Exactly, but also Jean got pissed off at me because I told her I’m leaving. Apparently I’m so important and they can’t win without me.” He takes a large sip from his beer, an understatement when half the bottle disappears down his throat.

“I mean they’ve survived and fought so long without this world's Logan before…” Wade tells him, snatching another cheese pizza.

“Look, if I ever end up having to leave…” He sighs, regretting his next words. “Just promise to take care of Bambi. Other than you, she’s all I have left.”

“Wow, talking about me like my life doesn’t matter.” He chuckles, shoving the cheesy bread into his mouth, getting the red sauce on his lips.

“Well you can’t die, she can.”

“Now, now. I was joking, Peanut.” Logan grunts at the use of the nickname.

“What’s this girl's real name anyways?” Althea asks, using a nail fail on her nails, not even realising how incredibly crooked they were becoming.

“No idea, I’ve been calling her Bambi cause… Well, she’s a deer hybrid.”

“Ah, ah. She’s a fawn hybrid.”

“Fawn isn’t a fucking species, it’s an age.”

“Yes, but she’s not a deer.”

“Pretty sure she’s full grown.”

“Maybe in her human form. But she hasn’t spent nearly enough time in her deer form to call herself a deer.”

“What are you talking about…?”

“Look at it this way, if she spent the majority of her life in her deer form, then she’d be a full grown deer, and whenever she turned into her human form, she’d be a toddler. Right now, she’s a toddler in her deer form, AKA, a fawn.” He pauses and looks away from Logan, eyes landing on Althea. “Al honey, if you keep doing that to your nails, they’ll be sharp enough to give someone a Prince Albert piercing.” He looks away from Althea and at a wall. “Readers, I don’t suggest looking that up.”

“Who the fuck are you talking to?” Logan growls, and he can hear the sound of the shower being turned off.

“He does that sometimes, you learn to ignore it.”

“Maybe you do, but you’re blind. He literally just stared at the fucking wall and spoke to dust.”

“Like I said, you get used to it.”

As you get out of the shower and dry yourself, some sort of talk about walls and dust quickly changes into how Wade is a psychopath. Throughout your entire shower, you were thinking about where you’d be sleeping. Of course, knowing Logan, he’d let you choose between either the air mattress or the couch. The problem is, you didn’t know what’s been done on either of them. You knew Wade pretty well, and judging by the dildo still suctioned onto the wall, he didn’t really care who knew about what he did, and he didn’t mind where he did it. So you were sure there would be stains on either one.

“There she is.” Wade automatically silences the conversation as you walk out of the bedroom and back into the living room wearing only your favourite white lace panties and one of Logans’ hoodies, which looked oversized on your smaller body.

“Want the couch or the air mattress Bambi?” There it is. You still had the towel in your hands, and you were drying your hair as you sat next to him on the couch.

“Yea I had a question for you about that.”

“What’s up?”

“Is the couch even…” You look at Wade. “Clean?” You ask it in the nicest way you can, and the sight of Althea suddenly breaking out in laughter seems to stun Wade.

“Careful now, don’t want to have a stroke.”

“Oh fuck you.” She stops laughing and looks in your general direction. “Want my honest input.” You nod, but then remember she’s blind.

“Yes, please.”

“Sleep on the floor.” She tells you, then stands up with her walking cane, and heads towards her room, closing the door behind her.

“Logan, where would you rather sleep?” You expect him not to answer, and to just tell you that where he sleeps is based on your answer.

“I’d prefer the couch, an air mattress is like sleeping on a damn rock.”

“Can I just… Can I just sleep on you?”

“Oh. My. God. You better say yes, she’s offering to sleep with you.” Wade stands up from the couch, stretching in place before heading to Althea's room. They sleep together?

“Wade, we sleep together all the time.” Logan sighs.

“It was supposed to be a sex joke, Sheldon Cooper.”

“Who…?”

“Ignore it…” Logan holds his hand out, preventing you from saying anything else.

“Goodnight, Peanut. Goodnight, Bambi!” He calls from the room before closing the door, and you can hear the sound of him throwing his jeans down on the floor before the bed in the room creaks under his weight.

“So…”

“What do you mean sleep on me?” Logan asks, interrupting you.

“I mean like… You sleep on the couch, and I sleep on your body. Like you’re my bed.” He stares at you for a moment, as if deciphering your request.

“Yea… Yea, we can do that, that’s okay.” He groans as he stands up, tossing his beer bottle in a pile of more bottles, some broken from previous other bottles being tossed on them.

“I’m gonna eat first though, does Wade have anything to drink?” You ask, standing up as well, and skipping a little to his fridge.

“Ugh… I know he has beer.” He tells you, opening another closet and pulling out a few blankets as you open the fridge and search for something other than alcohol. You simply will not touch it.

“Gross… Is the sink water-”

“Don’t even think about drinking the sink water.”

“What does he give her?” You point down at the slobbery looking dog that’s been snoring this entire time, kicking her legs in her sleep.

“Probably his own saliva.” He tells you, and it almost sounded serious as he covers the couch in clean blankets. “Did you bring your hairbrush?” You nod, walking back over to the couch. “The beer?” He quirks his eyebrow, reaching down to find the hairbrush in the duffle bag.

“Beer is gross.”

“Grab me one then.” You turn back around, opening the fridge again to grab a beer for him. “Sit here.” He points to the couch, and you sit exactly where he’s pointing, and he sits behind you on the back of the couch as you’re seated between his legs.

“Thank you baby.” He takes the beer from your hands, and removes the few braids he was able to get in from that morning and afterwards he pops the beer open.

“How does your ear feel?” He asks once they’re all out, gently touching your ear with his fingers and stroking the fur gently, causing you to purr quietly.

“It’s fine, it was just a poke.”

“Good, I didn’t mean to hurt you Bambi…”

“I know, it was my fault. I moved.” He doesn’t say anything back, instead, he grabs the hairbrush and begins to gently brush through your hair, and again, as always, he’s careful to avoid your ears, using his hands to gently pull threads of your hair off the fur.

“Are you sure you don’t want the couch to yourself?”

“Logan, you know I don’t like sleeping alone.”

“I know, Bamb. Just trying to make conversation.” He tells you, and you reach forward, him gently letting go of your hair so he doesn’t pull it as you grab two cheese pizzas, the pineapple box completely empty.

“You have to drink something.” He continues brushing your hair, occasionally taking a sip of his beer as he focuses on brushing.

“I know, but beer is gross… We can always go out and get apple juice in the morning?” You suggest, and he sighs behind you.

“You haven’t drank anything all day.” He tells you, and you look up and over your shoulder at him as he sets the brush aside and puts more of the liquid in his mouth, you watch as his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows.

“I’ll be alright.” You tell him as he stares down at you, and his right hand finds your chin as he lifts your face up slightly. Then he presses a single kiss to the corner of your lips, pulling back for a moment to take another swig of his beer, and his lips find yours fully now. His fingers squeeze your jaw carefully, but enough to force your own lips open, and he spits the alcohol into your mouth, making you involuntarily pull away but he keeps you still, replacing his mouth with his hand and covering your nose as well so you’re forced to drink the foul liquid.

“Now we either do that about five more times, or you drink the rest yourself.” He tells you, holding the half-filled bottle up to your eye level.

“Fine…” You groan, taking the bottle and sipping from it as he watches you.

“Good girl…” Your tail begins to wag on its own again at his praise and he removes his shirt before lying down on the couch with only a lamp on a small table next to the couch to illuminate a small portion of the room.

“Do I have to drink it all?”

“Just half is okay.” He tells you, and you close your nose before downing half of what he’s given you, hacking a little at the taste.

“Done.” You hold out the bottle to him, and he takes it, swallowing the rest before tossing the bottle towards the rest as before.

“Alright, lie down…” He pats his stomach a little, and you quickly crawl on top of him, taking a soft blanket from the side with you.

“So… since we’re living with Wade now…”

“You don’t have to ignore him…” He answers your question before you even finish asking it, and he shuts off the light behind him, casting the room in darkness, barely seconds later you feel his hand on your head as he gently scratches that spot behind your ear, making you purr.

You were relieved you wouldn’t have to ignore Wade, considering you’d be living with them for who knows how long.

“Just don’t ever sleep with him when I’m not here.”

Tags: @shybluebirdninja @atomicheartbroken @hazydespair

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mostotherthings · 24 hours

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小偷是誰跨過了界線？

This conversation and the subsequent happenings in the episode have made me repeat this episode a few times even without me realising what I was doing.

So, it starts with classical guitar playing. She is playing Francisco Tarrega's Recuerdos de la Alhambra (Memories of the Alhambra), as the teacher starts to talk about the fortress of Alhambra

怎麼了What's the matter?

你不喜歡西班牙You don't like Spain?

還是不喜歡收復失地 Or you don't like regaining lost territories?

Sheng Wang goes for the jugular- is it history you don't like or... you don't like conceding ground to others?

我不喜歡歷史 I don't like History

历史就是一部血腥的侵略史 History is just a series of bloody invasions

Jiang Tian's glasses are still on here. History to him are just filled with bad memories, bad things (his trauma, perhaps?)

是誰打敗了誰 It's all about who defeated the other

劃了什麼界限 what boundary lines were drawn

然後以什麼什麼為國 and calling somewhere a nation

以什麼什麼為界 and somewhere its boundary

and he takes off his glasses here, he has conceded some ground, when he talks about defeat and how meaningless this giving and taking is

怎麼啦？What is it?

我講錯了嗎？Did I say something wrong?

也不是 Not really, 但是 But

正因為有這樣一次的運動和前進 It's because of this continuous movement and progress forward

才推到了一些高牆啊 that pushed down some high walls

Sheng Wang speaks frankly here, which I think is quite a show of his trust for Jiang Tian. From the beginning where he promises to keep his distance from Jiang Tian, Sheng Wang talks about progress, movement, the future, that led to the crumbling of the fortress walls (Jiang Tian's walls... perhaps?)

讓愛 (and) let love

充滿了這個世界 fill up this world

and Sheng Wang has this love, that can fill up another person's world

而且正因為有了這些看似像界線一樣的東西 and it's because of these things that are like boundaries

才有進入別人的世界 are you able to enter another person's world

了解別人的可能 and understand that other person's possibility

It's like he's saying here - I respect your boundaries, and it's because of them, because of our differences, that makes me interested in you (?)

那你覺得我現在是入侵了你的世界 So do you feel that I am invading your world now?

and Sheng Wang has had half an arm pass the middle point of the frame- he has been sitting, invading Jiang Tian's space for the entire conversation

還是你侵入了我的世界呢？Or is it you who have invaded mine?

And Sheng Wang continues- so am I getting to know you... or are YOU actually getting to know ME?

我就是不喜歡歷史. I just don't like history

Jiang Tian concedes the battle and puts his glasses back on. Sheng Wang returns to his side of the frame.

The teacher continues to talk about Alhambra being a ruin for many years, until the King of Spain started to restore it...

As the episode continues, Sheng Wang keeps getting into people's spaces.

Auntie Jiang an example. Later when he witnesses the lovers at the West Gate- he's all up in other people's business this week, generally being an injured nuisance

With Sheng Wang home, Jiang Tian thinks he can put back the boundary/walls he conceded earlier. He makes up a lie- he's not in the dorm, telling Sheng Wang, he's not where Sheng Wang thinks he is going to be

The day darkens, the lie continues, the walls are coming back up

那我怎麼沒有看到你啊 Then why can't I see you?

When the lights come up, the lie is exposed. There's no more hiding, and Jiang Tian makes a run for it

Now Sheng Wang's closest to the person whose walls he wants to break down (he doesn't quite understand it yet)

He doesn't understand it yet!

But it's the thief, the thief who breaks down both their walls- it's a moment of vulnerability. Everyone else in the dorm room has gone home, and they should have been safe with each other. When the dorm master suggests huddling together for safety, Sheng Wang suggests it immediately. He now thinks of the room as their territory, they should be together to repel the invaders. Jiang Tian thinks about the last time he tried to put up a boundary......

It's the same expression he had the last time he had his walls taken down by Sheng Wang. He just can't win this war. So he lies down......

AND THEN THE MOMENT OF GENIUS IN THIS EPISODE, where Memories of Alhambra start to play again. The wall is in ruins, the fortress has crumbled.

He has to concede this. He inches to face the 'invader'.

It's their wall now. And they rest, safe.

#the on1y one #某某 #i don't know why i can't sleep until i post this #it's just rambling #this is all conjuncture!#don't take me too seriously it's late at night here

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iamwinklebottom · 2 days

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• I keep hearing “Can’t Get You Out Of My Head” by Kylie Minogue: https://youtu.be/c18441Eh_WE?si=vfUS2-a-jjamnS81

In the past, you used to fall in love with unworthy people and easily become obsessed a lot. You healed from this and realized that you went through these karmic cycles so many times, so your heart won’t get stolen by unworthy beings anymore.

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Some self love work will benefit you too + Beauty Conjure & Confidence Charisma Conjure: https://www.iamwinklebottom.com/shop/conjure-services/30

You really feel like you’ll be alone for the rest of your life. You’ve grown comfortable with that because of your past, but please understand that you specifically are meant to love and be loved genuinely. Great luck and much love to you.

3. If this resonates with you, consider getting a personal reading here @ https://www.iamwinklebottom.com/shop/advice-psychic-mediumship-divination/32

• I’m hearing “Hey Joe” by Jimi Hendrix: https://youtu.be/biguQQBpHjY?si=fv1DGjjjUgf7fs1E

At first I felt feelings of nervousness. Like “oh god.”

I heard “hey Joe, where you goin wit that gun in yo hand… I’m going to shoot my old lady; I caught her messin round with another man,” but that was just my human self perceiving only the meaning of the song.

You’re safe. Don’t worry. I’m not channeling MUCH about violence.

The thing is, this message is about Jimi Hendrix himself. He was perceived as ONLY a talented, confident, and charismatic sex symbol. Yes, he had those traits, but he was honestly very shy and kind (he did become violent when his mental health started to decline, so continue to prioritize emotional stability please: https://www.iamwinklebottom.com/product/-emotional-stability-conjure-service/260?cp=true&sa=false&sbp=false&q=true).

People will perceive your power and want you far away from them, but so close at the same time. You are a spectacle: a rare breed of being that people want to degrade and abuse, view up close with a glass between contact, or drag you into their personal space to hold forever. Be aware of this.

You must understand the vortex swirling around you and your existence. You are an odd starlight. It can be beautiful and healing, don’t let it become dangerous and unhealthy FOR YOU…

Prioritize evolution and development to assist you in this lifetime and the lifetimes after. Proper social navigation is necessary as well: https://www.iamwinklebottom.com/product/-social-navigation-conjure-service/295?cp=true&sa=false&sbp=false&q=true

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labyrinth-mc · 3 days

Text

WHAT IS THIS?

This blog will log the development of an upcoming semi-serious Java Edition LGBTQ+ themed Minecraft server. Now, when I say semi-serious, I mean that I'm not trying to make any money off of this or pressure my players into buying things they don't need. However, considering that this is intended to be a safe space, I fully intend to give my all to having competent moderation, fair rules and mature moderators. Basically, it's a gay Minecraft server without any pressure to buy ranks, chill moderators, and active updates where polls are held to move the server forward.

WHAT GAMEMODE IS IT?

This will likely be a survival world with a few added features for both ✨spice✨ and quality of life, such as:

Player profiles that include your preferred /name and preferred /pronouns when you type in chat.

Fair Custom Enchants

Better Beds (Not everyone has to sleep.)

Economy + Player Shops

Land Claiming

Scheduled Community Contests/Events

I am likely to develop more content including custom ores, mobs, dimensions, bosses, etc. so players can continue to progress through the SMP even once they have full netherite armor. THIS WILL ALL BE RESOURCE PACK BASED AND YOU WILL NOT NEED ANY MODS, EVER. Players will be able to give their voice on what sort of update they want when I start on these things, so the direction of development will be very community-driven.

WHO CAN JOIN

Anyone is welcome, as long as they can respect other's identities—and especially in the case of allies—are wiling to learn before casting judgment. There are some common decency rules that any server members must follow in order to continue being server members, and those will be addressed in the RULES. In summary, this server is about making a safe space for others to be themselves and be comfortable. Do not ruin that for others, and you can stay.

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damnfandomproblems · 2 days

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5796: I used to think similarly, I never thought other adults couldn't enjoy things or try to stop them from enjoying things, but I felt I personally had be this idealized version of a "mature adult".

I stopped watching Scooby-Doo. I got rid of my bouncy ball collection, my plushies, my Polly Pockets and Littlest Petshop toys. I stopped reading Y.A. books and stopped playing "kids" games.

This completely wrecked me.

I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life and was dealing with family issues, so when I went to college I just chose a major I thought I could handle at a college that was states away from my family.

I struggled. I struggled so damn much. I still had no idea what I wanted to do. I liked my major, but I didn't love it, not enough to finish it. And I was so far away from my best friends and the few family I adored. I was so stressed that that was my primary mood most days. And I had no outlet to safely let out that stress. I got rid of everything I loved and was forcing myself to like things and be someone I never could like and be.

All this accomplished was making me constantly breakdown. That was practically all I did when I wasn't in class. My "good" days just consisted of me mindlessly lying in bed, but that was better than my bad days. And not only that, I also stressed myself out so much, I gave myself chronic migraines for the rest of my life. Now I have to deal with days where even a soft glow is too bright and just shifting slightly in bed is too loud. And sometimes during my migraines half my limbs sort of stop working. I will never get my pre-college health back.

This wouldn't have happened if I didn't force myself to "grow up" and stopped enjoying what made me happy.

Yes, some adults can behave terribly and inappropriately. Yes, kids and teens should have spaces for themselves. But kids and teens can be rude too. They can behave inappropriately and commit crimes too. And they shouldn't make their spaces by stealing it from adults.

Yeah younger people should be safe and healthy. But so should older people. And younger people's health and safety shouldn't come at the expense of older people's.

Posting as a response to a previous problem.

#fandom problem 5796 #response to previous problem #mod sf

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flaggermuser · 22 hours

Text

Pour Some Sugar

1,334 words || AU, Bakerverse timeline, Thinly Veiled Threat, Patriot is her own warning, Baking, Fluff, Sex Mentioned, Patriot/The Deep, Patriot & Reader, Homelander/Reader, Homelander/Baker ||

A little gift for @hom3landr & her Baker - this fits in with her Bakerverse.

Border by Saradika

“Well, don’t you smell sweeter than brown sugar.”

You still the second you hear that distinctive voice, quaking as you slowly begin to turn around, coming face to face with her.

Patriot.

Long blonde tresses cascade over her shoulders, a wolfish grin on her cherry red lips and a fierce look in her captivating blue eyes; she’s the last woman in the world you’d want to be alone with. Homelander hasn’t held back his feelings about the Seven’s newest addition.

“Can I help you?” You ask, trying to stand your ground but shrinking when she steps closer.

“You can. Homelander raves about your baking; I’ve even had a chance to taste your pastries. They were utterly divine, to die for.”

The way her eyes run over you - you’re not sure if she’s here for any other reason than to eat you alive. Either way, you’re terrified of her and, more specifically, her intentions.

“I’m glad you liked them,” your voice shakes, not fully believing the sincerity of the compliment.

“Convinced me that you’d be the perfect person to help me with this little task,” she steps closer.

“You see, I have this ‘family recipe’ from my ‘grandma’,” she says with air quotes. “It’s for sugar cookies, and I want to make them for my Sugar Cookie, but I’m having a problem getting them right.”

Sugar Cookie - her pet name for The Deep.

Another thing Homelander has been incredibly vocal to you about. At Vought Tower, they’ve been very open about their relationship, and from what you’ve heard, it won’t be long until it’s made public, with Vought’s marketing team has been working on the ‘exclusive’.

You notice she starts pouting, and suddenly, you become aware that you’ve not said anything for a while. Whether it’s from fear or because your mind has wandered, you don’t know.

“You will help me, won’t you? It’ll mean so much to him. And I’m sure Prince Charming would be happy to hear that you’ve been so accommodating.”

You nod despite your inner terror, nervously taking the recipe from her hand and reading it carefully. It’s an old recipe from the late 1950s or early 1960s, a period of baking you’re not fluent in, but you’re not a novice either. Yet there’s something about it that bothers you.

It’s her grandma’s recipe? But she was born in a lab?

“It should be easy to make; I can have them ready for you by-”

“Ah, ah, ah.” She waggles a finger in your face. “You’re not making them for me; you’re helping me make them. I want him to know I made them for him especially.”

The idea of spending the afternoon helping her bake in your kitchen fills you with nothing but pure dread. This is your safe space, a little paradise where you make delicious baked goods for Homelander. She tilts her head, those unhinged eyes tinged with curiosity.

“How do you feel about flying?”

Patriot’s penthouse is imposing.

The dark green walls and hardwood floors are complimented by tasteful furniture, the exact opposite of what you expected. Despite her earlier question about flying, she didn’t carry you here; you’d been very forthcoming with your fear.

And she’d just… accepted it.

She was more than happy to let you make your own way to Vought Tower, which further exacerbated the unsettling feeling currently taking up residency in your gut.

“There you are! I almost thought you wouldn’t make it.”

She appears almost from nowhere, no longer dressed in her suit but in civilian clothes: checkered pyjama bottoms, a Deep Thought with The Deep tank top, and no bra.

She’s very well endowed.

“Follow me; I’ll show you the kitchen.”

Her kitchen is lavish, the kind of kitchen you’ve dreamed about, fitted with the latest appliances. It would be perfect for opening a bakery, but you know everything here costs more than what you make in a year.

“Don’t be shy,” she coos gently, carefully grabbing your arm and tugging you closer. “You can stand next to me. I don’t bite, well, I won’t bite you.”

She gives you a toothy grin - flashing her teeth nearly threateningly.

All the ingredients are already laid out, and you spy a bin brimming with burnt and malformed cookies. At least she wasn’t lying about her motives to get you here.

“Now, how do we proceed?”

Baking with Patriot has been an eye-opening experience.

You’ve gone from terrified to cordial, something dancing along the border of friendly. Clearly, there is more to Patriot than meets the eye and some vulnerability lingering just below the surface, but that has been kept out of your reach.

“They are perfect!” She squeals, pulling the cookies out of the oven.

You hover behind her, directing her towards the kitchen island and, more importantly, the cooling rack.

“They’ll need to cool for a little while,” you say, doing your best to hang back and watch while she carefully moves the baking paper from the tray to the rack.

She’s giddy with excitement and very pleased with her work, and her reaction makes your chest swell with pride. You’ve never considered teaching someone else to bake, but from what you’ve seen today, it might be an avenue worth exploring.

“While they cool, we can start making the-”

You stop midsentence when you see Homelander saunter into the kitchen, his eyes shifting between you and Patriot. He must have smelt the baking or you and come to investigate. He stands there, hands behind his back and a slight hint of disappointment in his eyes.

“I didn’t know you were going to be in the tower today,” he nearly huffs. “I thought you’d give me a heads up.”

You swallow, preparing your answer, only for Patriot to interject before you begin.

“She didn’t know she was going to be here either,” she rolls her eyes. “I needed some help baking, and seeing as you’re constantly raving about her, I thought I’d ask for expert help.”

‘Expert help’ - that makes you stand straight and proud, still avoiding Homelander’s gaze.

She scoffs, “Drop the betrayed act. She would have told you she was coming but probably didn’t want to worry you. After all, she’s been spending the afternoon with this ‘unhinged, big-titted, airheaded bitch.’”

Now that makes Homelander falter and makes you cringe - it’s probably one of the kinder things he’s called her.

“Look,” she continues, turning her body and looking between you and Homelander. “Once she’s finished here, I’m sure she’ll be happy to spend the evening with you.”

Homelander nods, shooting you a look of concern just as he leaves, glancing at you cautiously while he leaves. He obviously came here not only out of disappointment but also of worry for your safety.

“Now, you were talking about making icing.”

Warily, you enter Homelander’s penthouse with a box full of iced sugar cookies as a peace offering.

You’d usually send him a message when you were heading to the tower, but you’d been so preoccupied with your fear that Patriot was luring you into a dangerous situation that the notion had bypassed you completely. Immediately, you’re pulled into a tight hug, the box hitting the ground.

“I was so worried about you,” Homelander mumbles into your hair. “What possessed you to help her?”

“She came by my apartment and asked… nicely. I was apprehensive about baking with her in my kitchen because that’s where I bake for you.”

He releases you from the hug, only to take your face in his hands and look deep into your eyes. “Just… next time, please let me know. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

A kiss on your forehead has you closing your eyes and smiling. His protectiveness warms your heart, and it’s one of the many reasons why you love Homelander.

The little heartfelt moment, however, is ruined by the sounds of animalistic sex coming through the shared wall of Homelander’s penthouse, making you both cringe.

“He liked the cookies then.”

#homelander x reader #patriot x the deep #this is an AU #into the bakerverse #patriot & reader #homelander fanfic

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miss-bushido · 2 days

Text

our bodies are oh so close and tight

written for @steddiesmuttyseptember week three, using the prompt 'rough' Title from the song 'Paradise by the Dashboard Light' by Meatloaf

Also inspired by this tweet from @_cydonic: “young, bratty Steve who always calls for his father's car when he's working so that Mr Harrington's long-time, trusted driver Eddie can fuck him nasty in the back of the rolls 🥰”

Rating: E

“Going somewhere, Steven?” his Mother asks as he walks past her in the living room, adjusting the sleeves of his navy blue blazer. She doesn’t look up from her latest bodice-ripper romance book, so he knows he can be vague in his response.

“Yes, Mother. Just out to meet the guys.”

“Mmm, make sure you drive safely.” He can see her interest in the conversation is waning as her eyes keep moving over the words on the page. She even reaches for her glass of Chablis. It must be a very interesting passage.

“Eddie will make sure that I get there in one piece,” Steve answers. There is no response to that. His Mother sips her wine, and is now fully engrossed again in her story.

It’s just as well. He doesn’t think she’ll even wait up for him. She never does.

And he doesn’t know what time he’ll come back home. Not that the Harrington’s ever cared when their son came home. He tested it once: stayed out for three days, sleeping in a different girl’s bed every night. When he finally came home, they barely registered it.

This kind of parental neglect has been going on since Steve can remember. Their wealth let them spoil him with all the toys, experiences, cars and vacations a young man could want. There were a myriad of tutors, nannies, personal assistants as well. Their boy would never want for anything.

Except for affection and love from his parents. The Harrington’s did not give this to their only child readily, and on some level they must have felt guilty over it, because they let him do whatever he wanted. Steve was spoiled and willful and bratty, and no one was around to check him on this attitude.

Until the Harrington’s hired their chauffeur, that was.

Eddie Munson was like nothing and no one Steve had ever encountered before. He was in his mid-twenties, with dark hair and deep brown eyes. He had an air of something about him: a hint of danger that only Steve picked up on.

He also didn’t take any shit from The Brat, as he had christened Steve.

The first time he’d tested Eddie was about six months after he’d been hired, almost three months ago now. He’d walked over to the garage where the Harrington’s cars were kept, just as Eddie was finishing wiping down the interior of the Rolls, his tongue poking out in concentration as he moved the damp rag over the steering wheel.

“I want you to drive me somewhere,” Steve said by way of greeting, brushing a piece of imaginary lint off of his blazer.

Eddie moved out of the driver’s seat, rag in hand. His hair, usually kept hidden by his chauffeur’s cap, was loose and long, brushing the tops of his shoulders. The white tank top he wore showed all the tattoos he’d kept hidden under his chauffeur’s jacket, along with the strong arms he had. “I just finished detailing the car, so it’ll have to wait-”

Steve sighed heavily, as if this was the most inconvenient thing in the world. “I don’t care. I want you to drive me-”

“No,” Eddie said.

“No?” Steve repeated, hazel eyes wide. No one had ever told him ‘No’ before. “Who do you think-”

“I don’t know who you think you are,” Eddie cut him off, voice even with a hint of anger, “but I’m not the one.”

“I’m your boss’s son, is who I am,” Steve answered, eyebrows furrowed as he came closer to Eddie.

“You’re a brat, is what you are,” Eddie retorted.

Steve blinked dumbly, not sure what to do. This conversation was not going how he’d expected it to go. “What did you say?” he asked, moving so he was in Eddie’s personal space.

Eddie stayed where he was, which was also unexpected. So the two were almost chest to chest. “I said that you’re a brat.” He leaned in as he spoke. “Just because I drive you and your family around doesn’t mean you get to treat me like shit.”

Steve blinked again, but this time at the closeness of their faces. He could see a spray of freckles across Eddie’s cheeks, how pink his lips were, the hint of red in his cheeks from his anger. It made something stir in his gut, an unexpected feeling of arousal.

It wasn’t that Eddie was unattractive: he was actually pretty gorgeous to Steve’s mind. It wasn’t even that he was a guy: Steve had experimented with a few guys in the past. He just hadn’t ever expected to be attracted to someone who would speak to him like this. Like he wasn’t important. Like he wasn’t the spoiled and bratty son of the richest man in town.

“Get away,” Steve managed, pressing his hands on Eddie’s chest to shove him back. He managed to move the chauffeur about an inch before Eddie recovered and grabbed both of Steve’s wrists in his strong hands and pivoted so that he shoved Steve’s body up against the car. Eddie’s left thigh was between Steve’s legs, unaware that he was pressing against Steve’s crotch.

“Don’t ever do that again,” Eddie growled, tightening his grip on Steve’s right wrist. “Do you understand me, brat?”

Steve breathed heavily but didn’t answer. No one had ever been this rough with him before. And he found he kind of liked it. In response to Steve’s lack of one, Eddie pushed his body against Steve’s. The motion of him doing that produced delicious friction of Eddie’s thigh against his crotch that made Steve moan, closing his eyes at the feeling.

Eddie’s eyebrows raised at this development. “You like that, huh, brat?” He asked. When Steve didn’t immediately respond, Eddie moved his thigh again, feeling Steve’s erection clearly now. “You like it when someone corrects your behavior?” He was whispering in Steve’s ear now, his whole body pressed against him.

“Maybe…” Steve managed, his voice already sounding wrecked. He turned to look at Eddie, and felt a shiver run through him at the predatory look the chauffeur was giving him. “Maybe I do.”

“You want me to correct your behavior, huh?” Eddie asked. “Put my hands on you? Punish you?”

“Fuck,” Steve breathed, biting his lip at the imagery.

“First things first,” Eddie said, his left hand moving off of Steve’s right wrist, sliding down Steve’s body before he cupped Steve’s erection. He squeezed lightly, making Steve moan filthily, the sound echoing in the garage. “You don’t get to shove me around. Only I get to do that to you.”

“Yes,” Steve breathed, hips moving against Eddie’s hand. “Yes, God, I want that so much.”

“Good boy,” Eddie said, continuing to palm Steve through his pants. “Second thing: if you piss me off, if you keep acting bratty, I’m going to take it out of your ass.” As if to prove his point, Eddie moved them away from the car so he could give Steve a hard slap on the ass.

“Oh my God,” Steve shouted, his cock kicking in his pants. He’d never been spanked before, and didn’t know if it was because it was new or because it was Eddie doing it, or both, but he felt like he could come in his pants from just that by itself.

Eddie bit his lip at the display before him. He had his boss’s son in the palm of his hand, quite literally. He didn’t know Steve had it in him to be this pliable, this slutty. He found he really liked the power he had over him. “Third thing,” he said, his right hand moving in circles over Steve’s cheeks. “I’m the only one who gets to fuck you from now on. I’m the only one you’ll spread for. My pretty little whore.” He punctuated this by giving Steve’s earlobe a bite at the same time as he slipped his hand inside Steve’s pants, stroking his thick cock quickly. “Say it,” Eddie demanded, spanking Steve again as he stroked him.

“Only you,” Steve panted, head tilted forward, his right hand gripping the driver’s side mirror. He shoved his pants down with his left hand, his cock and Eddie’s hand wrapped around it springing free. The slick sounds of his precum sliding up and down his cock could be heard. “Only you get to fuck me,” he continued. “Eddie, fuck, I’m gonna come soon.”

“I can see,” Eddie breathed. He pushed his own pants down so his erection could be taken care of too. He wrapped his right hand around his cock and began stroking himself, getting off on getting Steve off. “Next time, I’m going to fuck you in the backseat, and you better not get cum all over the leather, or I’ll have to punish you.”

“Eddie!” Steve shouted as he came hard, gripping the mirror tightly as he bent forward. His cum dribbled over Eddie’s hands, some of it dripping onto the garage floor.

“God you’re so fucking hot,” Eddie groaned, forcing himself to stop stroking himself. He brought his hand up and licked all of Steve’s release into his mouth.

“I want more,” Steve pleaded. He looked up at Eddie, lust and longing written all over his face. “I want to be in the backseat with you now.”

Eddie pulled Steve in for a kiss, his tongue sliding into Steve’s hot mouth. “You ever been fucked before, brat?”

“Once,” Steve breathed, gripping Eddie’s tank top as they kissed. “I think you’ll be better at it, though.”

Eddie smirked. “Damn right.” He slapped Steve’s bare ass again before he said, “Get in the backseat and bend over.”

Steve kissed his once more before he complied, opening the back door and sliding in so he was facing the passenger side door. He grabbed the edge of the leather seat, and arched his back, waiting for Eddie.

Eddie slid in after Steve, closing the door behind him. “Fuck, your ass looks so good.” He ran a hand over his cheeks, pleased to note the pink spots where he’d spanked Steve. “I have to have a taste.”

Steve cried out, gripping hard to the seat as Eddie spread his cheeks and began tonguing his asshole. No one had ever done this to him, and it was a revelation in pleasure. He felt the wetness of Eddie’s spit, his tongue working inside Steve, punching in and out of him. “Eddie!” he moaned. “God, fuck, it feels so good!”

“This is just the warm up,” Eddie murmured, almost losing himself in eating Steve out. “You taste so fucking delicious. Some day I’m going to eat you out all night.” He felt Steve’s hole clench around his tongue at this. “Sounds like you want that too, huh?”

“Want that, want you, want all of you. God, please, Eddie. Please fuck me!”

Eddie grinned, giving Steve one final lick before he straightened up. “Since you asked so nicely…” he murmured. He reached into his back pocket, pulling out the little tub of Vaseline he kept there. It helped keep his hands smooth and soft after he worked on the car. Eddie uncapped it and scooped out a generous amount on his right pointer and middle fingers.

“This’ll be cold,” he warned Steve as he rubbed the lubricant over his hole. He slid both fingers inside Steve slowly, adding lubricant and getting him adjusted quicker. He heard the little hiss of pain Steve made and removed his fingers as quickly as he could. “Are you okay?” he asked. “Do you want me to stop?”

“If you stop, I’ll shove you again,” was the answer. Steve turned his head from where it was currently pressed against the seat, giving Eddie a knowing grin.

Eddie grinned back, returning to the task at hand of getting Steve’s hole nice and lubed and stretched for him. “There’s that brattiness we talked about,” he said, adding more Vaseline to his fingers as he slipped a third one inside of Steve. He slowly fucked Steve on his fingers, feeling him clench each time. “Someone should fuck it out if you.”

“Is that gonna be you?” Steve asked, practically drooling all over the leather.

“Does my little brat want that? Maybe I want to hear you beg a little first,” Eddie said, pulling his fingers out. He rubbed some Vaseline along his cock, which was red and aching from being ignored for so long. “And loudly. I want to make sure I hear you.”

“Please fuck me, Eddie,” Steve begged, the desperation in his voice taking on a fever pitch. Part of him knew that begging was part of the roleplay they’d stumbled onto, but he also was desperate to feel the other man inside him. “Please, please, pleas- oh fuck, yes!”

On the last ‘please’, Eddie began to push inside Steve, groaning loudly at how tight and hot he was. He slid in slowly and then slid back slowly, almost pulling out. “Is it good? Is it okay?” he asked, his own voice ragged, his hands clutching desperately at Steve’s hips.

“Don’t stop!” Steve begged, pushing back.

It was all Eddie needed. He thrust back inside of Steve, setting a rough rhythm as he fucked him. “You’re so tight,” he breathed. “Such a tight little whore. Can’t get enough of me, can you?” He heard Steve gasp, felt him clench around him. “Say it,” he ordered, delivering a slap to Steve’s ass again.

“I can’t get enough!” Steve yelled, a desperation in his voice. He was leaking precum everywhere all over the seat. Eddie’s words about punishing him if he got cum all over the backseat reverberating through his head. “I want all of you. Only you, please. Please Eddie!” He didn’t know what he was begging for at this point, but that didn’t matter as long as Eddie didn’t stop fucking him.

Eddie felt a shudder run through him, his hips snapping hard against Steve’s as he kept fucking him. “I’m gonna cum in your tight hole,” he panted. “I’m gonna fill you up, make you mine.” He reached between Steve’s legs and began stroking his hard cock, trying to match the rhythm of each stroke to each thrust. “I’m gonna ruin you for anyone else.”

“Only want your cock, your hands, your mouth, oh fuck, Eddie! Eddie, I’m-!” Steve’s words cut off as he came hard while Eddie stroked him, thick ropes of cum spurting out of him.

Eddie gripped Steve’s hip tight with his other hand, the rhythm he’d built up beginning to falter. “Take all of it,” he groaned as he went over the edge, coming so hard inside Steve that he saw white. His whole body shuddered at his release. “God, Steve,” he gasped, trying to catch his breath. “You’re fucking incredible.”

“So are you,” Steve panted, trying to catch his breath. He liked the way his name sounded in Eddie’s mouth. “I want some more.”

Eddie groaned as he pulled out, licking his lips at the sight of his cum leaking out of Steve. “You’ll get some more, brat.” He pinched Steve’s cheek, grinning at the outraged yelp he gave. “First, I gotta clean the car up before this becomes an issue.”

Steve pushed himself up onto his knees, a dull ache in his backside. “So much for the detailing. I got cum all over…” he trailed off as he felt Eddie’s arm wrap around his waist.

“It lets me know I did a good job,” Eddie whispered in his ear, giving his earlobe a light bite. “And I lied: I hadn’t finished detailing the car.”

Steve turned his head to look at Eddie. “Why’d you lie?”

“Because you were being bratty like usual,” Eddie answered. “Are you mad that I lied?”

“No,” Steve said, fully turning to kiss Eddie on the mouth. “Especially not after this.” He deepened the kiss, placing his right hand on Eddie's face.

Eddie broke the kiss to ask, “Did you actually want me to drive you anywhere?”

“I did, but I think I can have a better evening if I stay here with you,” Steve said, giving Eddie’s lower lip a small bite.

“Brat,” Eddie replied, spanking Steve on the ass again, a grin on his face. “Go upstairs and get washed up. Once I clean the car, I’ll be up.”

“But don’t you want to shower with me?” Steve whined, kissing Eddie on the neck, the jaw, everywhere but his mouth. He gasped when Eddie gripped his hair and tilted his head back.

“Do what I say,” Eddie growled, licking a line up Steve’s neck. “I haven’t finished punishing you yet.”

Steve groaned with longing. “Okay,” he breathed, following Eddie out of the car after they both pulled their pants back up.

He was about to go upstairs when Eddie grabbed him by the blazer and pulled him in for a blistering kiss. His hands roamed everywhere on Steve, and when he pulled back, nuzzling their noses together, he started to say, “If it’s too weird or too much…”

“I guess I’ll wait to shower with you after all,” Steve quipped as he pulled out of Eddie’s grasp, a big grin on his face. As he walked upstairs to Eddie’s apartment he heard behind him: “That ass better be on display when I come up there.”

“Why don’t you make me?” Steve called back as he hurried up the stairs, already beginning to shed his clothes.

Now back in the present, Steve waits outside at the edge of the walkway. Soon enough, he sees a pair of headlights coming down the driveway, circling and pulling to a stop right in front of him.

Eddie, his Eddie, steps out from the driver’s seat and walks around to the other side, opening the right back passenger door for Steve. “Your chariot, my liege,” he jokes.

“Cute,” Steve replies, running his fingers across the waistband of Eddie’s pants. He is rewarded when Eddie bites his lip, trying to keep his composure. Steve slips his hand further down to palm him over his pants.

Eddie gasps loudly, glaring at Steve as he slides coolly into the car. “Brat,” he hisses. It is said with all the love and affection Steve has always craved.

And it solidifies his decision to tell Eddie he loves him tonight.

After a few spankings, of course.

#steddie smutty september #my fic #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson

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lady-griffin · 2 days

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Possible Idea for the Firelights in S2

Which I’ve fallen way too much in love with, btw

After the Firelight Base is attacked, where do they go?

Do they just go back to their broken, destroyed home? Try to fix it up? Can they even go back?

Do they disperse?

Or do they go to a location most people (especially those from topside) would have difficulty navigating if they didn’t know exactly where to go?

Like an abandoned mine of sorts? One with really large, giant machines suspended in the air that could be used as little community hubs, perfectly accessible for those with hoverboards?

It’s just something to consider.

Seriously, I can’t express how much I love the idea of Jinx’s lair becoming the new base for the Firelights. I love it way too much; I’m going to be crushed when it doesn't happen (which to be fair is totally on me).

The old mines would be perfect for the Firelights, especially in helping them recover and giving them a sense of extra protection and security after what they’ve gone through.

Maybe it’s not permanent, but it doesn't have to be, it allows them to stay together, so it’s home for the moment

Destroying their base, likely making them scared to return, is an ingenious way to physically separate a group of people who are loyal to one another and fight well together, but this way they wouldn’t have to disperse.

It seems like the mines are well-hidden and isolated, with a lot of natural defenses – it’s been abandoned for a long time, there’s probably a complicated tunnel system to the cavern, and it has multiple physical locations (the drill/fans we’ve seen) that others (their enemies) can’t easily get to.

There are probably a few like Jinx’s lab, where they connect to the tunnels that lead outside, but the few we’ve seen in the background, seem pretty inaccessible – unless you’re a group of people who can fly.

There’s also the idea of Piltover and Noxus winning the day and those who’ve been pushed to live underground having to retreat further down to be safe.

But it’s not a defeat, it’s just a retreat. They’re still here.

I also really love the idea of how this place once represented darkness and the abyss, basically daring you to look down, especially when compared to Ekko's original base for the Firelights, representing light and hope, encouraging you to look up.

It’s still the same place it was in S1, but it's changed with all these other people sharing it with Jinx.

Not because she was forced to, but because she chose to open her space to others, one that was solely hers and we only saw her and Silco there.

But now it's filled with others, who've impacted and changed it with their own touches of color and graffiti and when we look, we see there are all these little pockets of light and color in the dark abyss.

There's still darkness, but it's no longer all consuming.

And I don't know, the idea just warms my heart so much, and I really, really want to see it.

Also, I can’t fully tell, but when Ekko is pulling the chain in the trailer, the area is dark and it could be a cave. So, maybe? Again, it’s hard to tell.

Seriously though, I love this idea so goddamn much!

#Arcane #Arcane S2 Speculation #Jinx #Firelights #Ekko #Arcane S2 #Arcane Firelights #Timebomb #Timebomb Adjacent

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faeriekit · 1 hour

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Health and Hybrids (XXVIII)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

🖤Chapter navigation can be found here🖤 Click to browse previous updates.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts 💚 (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... Danny has another hashtag breakdown! Man, we've got a lot of these, huh? It's YJ's fault this time; whoopsie doodles! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Trigger warnings for this story: body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) | my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

“Danny,” Diana says from the door.

Danny looks up from his place in the book. It’s definitely aimed at younger kids, but it’s a pretty wordy picture book; there are a couple paragraphs he can’t quite parse, but he’s making pretty good progress on the words he can’t recognize.

It’s a story about a cat who misses its mother. Danny tries not to relate to it too much.

“Hm?” he asks, flipping the front flap of the dust cover over his current pages to mark his place. The book goes back onto the nightstand, beside his space shuttle; Danny uses the railing beside his bed to support himself stepping up and out of his wheelchair, leaning on the railing until he can figure out…wait, where’d he leave his old people walker?

“This walk is long. You will want your chair.”

Well, then. Couldn’t she have said that before Danny did all that pulling? Danny falls back into his chair, kinda peeved. “Fine.”

Diana smiles. She doesn’t have to wear the mask around him anymore— Danny’s pretty sure that his injuries have been declared as clotted, or sealed, or whatever at this rate. They for sure swabbed his ectoplasm and came to some kind of conclusion, anyway, which means he only looks gross, but isn’t, like…actively leaking fluids.

On the one hand, gross! But, well, you know. Nothing for it but bandaids and time.

And her face looks nice. Danny hadn’t known what she’d looked like, before. She smiles when she sees him. Her light eyes crinkle, and her lips turn up… She’s nice. Danny’s sure that she’s only there to be in charge of him in case he gets scary, but she’s in charge of him and she’s nice. She doesn’t have to be nice; lots of people have been in charge of him and been mean about it. There was that one guy who kept holding him—with the taser—

(Time slips away from him, a little. When he gets back to the world in front of him, Diana is carefully looking at his face, the back of her hand stroking the back of his.)

Danny’s in his chair. He’s not…there. He’s in his chair, on a big space station (????) with a bunch of really colorful fighters on it, and Diana is touching his hand (that’s so much weaker and slower than it used to be) and he’s not hungry and he’s only scared because of memories. He’s safe. He’s not being pinned down by the neck so that they can strap down his wrists and hips to the table—they’re not shocking him—he can move his fingers, he’s not stuck in his core—

His core throbs. Danny bites into his bisected lip, and tries not to cry.

“Are you alright?” Diana asks, voice gentled. The soft touch of her hand doesn’t stop. “We can wait. There is no—“

Danny shakes his head, and takes his hand away so he could wipe at his eyes. It’s fine. Bad memories are everywhere: in the walls, in the floor, in the ceiling, in the hands of people taking care of him. That’s not… There’s nothing Danny can do about that. That just. Takes time.

…He think he might have that time. Now. He thought he would die for good in that five by five box, waiting for something that would finally end him instead of just keeping him in a cycle of injuries he never fully healed from.

But now he’s not. He’s here.

He wants to keep going.

“Alright,” Diana says, slow and careful. “Hold on.”

Danny doesn’t hold on—or, well, you know, he engages his core muscles and all that, but he doesn’t cling to his arm rests or to the frame of his chair because he knows that Diana is really, really strong, but she also really, really doesn’t want to hurt him.

She rolls him out of the medical wing and into the space station proper. Danny feels like he’s been here before, but he doesn’t remember it super well. Maybe it was when he was sick or something? Either way, a lot of different people wave at him as they go by—or just straight up stare, if they’re rude—and Danny generally just watches people rush by, carrying all kinds of equipment, and a potted plant, and a…starfish in a jar…?

Oh, the starfish waves at him???? Danny waves back because?? What??

Danny rolls to a stop at a smooth, cylindrical elevator. It looks like a giant test tube.

…Oh boy. Danny takes a deep breath, and holds it. Reflexively. Sure, this elevator probably isn’t like being dunked into water to see if his body absorbs ambient oxygen from the atmosphere or if his biology is truly not oxygen-based, but the memory is. Bad.

They go upwards. Nothing happens but Diana’s pushed button.

Danny exhales.

They get off at a section of the base Danny’s never been to, and it's essentially just a long, somewhat narrow hallway. The walls are actually painted a creamy off-white here, and there’s…like…decorative panels towards the base of his wheels trailing down the hallway? An orange ceiling, too?

Huh??

The rooms are numbered, but they’re not plain steel like in other areas downstairs; some of them have stickers, or drawings, or marker written straight onto the door itself. They look...cozy...? Danny thinks so, anyway, compared to the rest of the ultra high tech space base.

They roll to a stop in front of a door. It’s got a number on it, same as all the others, but there’s a box cutout taped to the front of it. The—

—The print is of the same style of space shuttle Danny keeps next to his bed, inked onto glorious cardboard medium.

Danny stares.

“Gegrapa,” Diana urges, so gentle. Too bad that, uh, Danny doesn’t know that one. He looks at her. She mimes touching the door— Oh. Got it.

Danny leans forward just enough to touch the door with his fingertips.

The door says something in a robotic voice, but the synthesizer is too mangled for Danny to make out the words. The door slides open horizontally into the wall, instead of the way the other doors open like portals or from below, and it’s kind of cool?

Inside is a bedroom. Danny stares.

…No, it’s actually a bedroom. Not a medical wing, not a cot, not a repurposed conference room or—it’s actually got a bed in it. Like. A real one. There’s a wooden headboard and it’s got a mattress on it that’s thicker than a VCR.

There’s constellation sheets on a bed big enough to curl up on.

There’s a nightstand, a small desk on the far wall—there’s a little lip where the bedroom dips into a tiny sitting room, a small television on a table and a small table and chair. It’s kind of…it’s kind of like a little hotel suite.

Danny’s mouth goes dry.

He doesn’t move, and Diana doesn’t wheel him in. “It’s okay,” Diana says, and—Danny almost flinches when she touches his hair, but it’s only Diana, who’s never hit him, and they’re fine. He’s…safe. It’s safe. He’s safe here. “Do you want to go in?”

Danny doesn’t move. His hands don’t touch the wheels. They’re shaking; he puts his hands in his lap and he tries to breathe. “…What?” he asks hoarsely.

“A rum for my Danny,” Diana murmurs, quietly. Danny’s heart throbs at the possessive. “You are healthier now. You do not need doctors every hour, but only sum hours. You cuðe spenda more time here, all ana.”

Words go by so fast even at Diana's smooth, unhurried pace— and Danny licks dry, split lips. He looks around the room—and the room is small, sure, but they're in space. Space will always be a premium. Even in this small room, though, the furniture is sparse and placed distant from each other…distant enough that Danny can wheel around freely in his chair.

There’s a Moon clock display hung on the wall over the doorway, and Danny can faintly see the outline of what he assumes is the current lunar phase as seen from Earth.

Having the lamp isn’t exactly the same as glow-in-the-dark-stars, and thank goodness for that. If it had been, Danny might have cried.

(Or, he realizes, something burning in his eyes that isn’t ectoplasm, maybe he is crying.)

“...Me?” Danny asks, terrified to know the answer. Is this room for him?? Is he getting a room here? Is he supposed to stay here? On the moon?! Is he supposed to stay with everyone here, in a tiny room, where there’s nowhere to go and nowhere to escape?

…It’s a bedroom. It’s already so much more than the stupid guys in white ever gave him.

“Yes,” Diana says, and lets go of his hair. “Use it, or do not. Sitta here, or sitta in the medical bay, but now you have two choices.”

Okay. So Danny has choices. He swallows his feelings—they taste a lot like snot—and rolls himself inside to inspect the room.

There’s another little fridge inside the sitting area. It’s not right next to the bed like it is beside Danny’s cot, but it is the same style of fridge. When Danny pops the door open, it has the same styles of snacks. Fig Einsteins. Peanut butter squeezies and applesauce squeezies and yogurt squeezies. Protein shakes in bottles. Pedialight. Hummus packs.

Danny might still need someone to open the snack packs for him. That’s kind of a high dexterity food, if he thinks about it.

“If you wish to sitta here, we will visit you all you like. There is a belle at your bed,” Diana says, and walks in with all her purple scrubs and tied-up hair to point to a little button on his nightstand. It’s red. It’s got a little smiley face sticker next to it, and Danny thinks he recognizes the style from one of his nurse’s bestickered name tags. Belle is probably a direct cognate for bell. He’ll be able to get everyone to come up here if he needs help.

…Okay, that’s kind of nice. To have personal space. He hasn’t had that since… Danny’s eyes squint as he thinks; he rubs an eye. Wait, when had he been squatting under a conference table? Was that a real memory??

Diana is very tall, even in the little space, but when she ducks her head, the gesture makes her a little smaller, a little more manageable for Danny’s lower-than-usual-gaze. Now that he can see her expression, she looks soft, and even uncertain, even though she looks stone and strong on the television when she goes out to fight. “Do you like it?” she asks.

Danny fidgets.

He—does. He likes it a lot. The room doesn’t have any windows, but if Danny moved all his things in here, got used to being able to come and go, and people coming in and out…this space could be just another space. It’s quieter than the medical ward. More peaceful.

…The room is utterly devoid of other people.

(Danny thinks of The Box. Danny thinks of being in The Box.)

(Danny doesn’t like remembering The Box.)

“I am scared,” Danny admits to his twitching thumbs, his fingers itching for a fidget toy or one of his physical therapy tools. Diana’s face immediately drops.

“Why are you scared?”

I’ll be alone Danny wants to say, but he doesn’t know the word for alone and he struggled with phrasing. “No…people here.”

“That is triewe. You would have more dīegolnes here,” Diana agrees, and straightens out of her crouch. “Is that good, or bad?”

It isn’t good and it isn’t bad…? Danny isn’t sure how to phrase it. It’s neither. Being alone is just scary.

“You not hurt me,” Danny tries, knowing he’s missing some connecting word in the middle. He ignores how Diana comes back to kneel beside him, because if he looks at her, he won’t say anything. “Do not.”

“No,” Diana says, from beside and below him, gentle, careful. “We do not.”

No. They don’t. Danny swallows. “Bad…hurt me.” He doesn’t know the word for Earth or planet or even downstairs, so he just meekly points downwards.

Diana stills. It’s like watching Vlad’s Maddie cat spot a bird to hunt down. Danny tries not to feel pinned. “On eorþegearde?” she asks, still light, still gentle. Danny can hear a shadow of steel, though, and he counts himself lucky that she’s never treated him like an enemy. Danny quickly nods. His eyes squeeze shut.

“Who?” Diana asks feather-light.

Danny doesn’t want to tell them what he is. Admitting the name of the agency hunting him itself would be given in.

…But maybe if he doesn’t say the name…and they...and they promised they'd help hide him...

He wants to be right. Danny wants to be right that they're nice, and that they want to help him. Danny wants to be right that they want to protect him. As long as he never, nevernotevernever tells them he's a ghost...

Maybe someone will help him. This time.

“Bad,” Danny repeats, because he genuinely has no idea how to translate?? “Wants…hurts me? For…” WHAT WORDS DOES HE KNOW? Danny gives up and just draws a y-shaped autopsy incision on his chest. It goes down from his collarbones to his belly button.

Diana watches. Her eyes are sharp.

“Do you feel safe with the staff dunstæger in medical?” Diana is quick on the ball with the question and Danny nods quickly—he’s never alone there, and no one’s ever hurt him, and people whose job it is to help people are always coming in and out, and Medical helps them too.

“Good,” Danny whispers. “Talk…talks to me.”

“Ealne weg,” Diana affirms firmly. Whatever that means. “We will cepa you safe.”

You safe and we is all Danny needs to hear. He could probably cry by himself, but Danny wants the comfort anyway; Diana lets Danny take her hands into his, and he lets tears fall into someone else’s grip instead of his own.

Bruce is halfway to the monitor room before he feels himself be picked up from underneath the armpits.

Usually finding himself at inappropriate heights involves horseplay from Clark. No one else would be so bold as to actually put their hands on him within the professional setting of the Watchtower—and Bruce has worked very, very hard on maintaining a reputation that keeps the handsier of his fellows at bay.

The culprit is not Clark this time. Bruce finds himself looking downward at Diana’s tearstained face, fury and resignation warring in her expression.

Bruce is careful not to sigh. “Wonder Woman. What is the matter?”

“Someone,” Diana grits out, voice carefully modulated to cut out her own pain, “Hurt my charge.”

On the one hand, the situation with their patient is exactly as Bruce had expected. The circumstance is tragic. The circumstance was predictable.

On the other, Diana's new upset means that Bruce now has more information to work with than ever before.

Bruce can work with this.

“Tell me everything.” Bruce’s voice is just as firm—even held midair like a cat. “I will help you in every way I can.”

#HEy guess who got a covid booster took a nap so fat that SOMEONE almost suffocated and then woke up at 6am to write 1800 words of Hybrids??#Danny: so like. They don't TREAT me like a ghost. so if I just say I'm NOT a ghost..it's good right?? They won't do what mom n dad did??#Wonder Woman (seething with rage): You are NOT going to be able to stop me from killing people #Bruce very quietly: (noted)#health and hybrids #dp x dc #danny phantom #dcu crossover #dpxdc #dcxdp #tw medical #tw body horror #tw gore #although at this point we're mostly a recovery fic #this whole thing has been a recovery fic huh #the healing power of watching someone else get picked up after being punted around like a football #I think we're also a mystery fic but I'm really drawing out the details here ngl #clark is eating chips w nightwing rn they're both missing out on the action

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