#Mini fic

[gothamite-rambler]

Bruce and Duke were in the Wayne kitchen, Ra's and Talia paid a visit, but Duke remained distrusting of Ra's Al Ghul's presence. Bruce enjoyed this so the two were having a chat that involved trash talking the man.

Duke: Ra’s came from a time when a woman wearing a skirt above the knee was a stoning offense.

Bruce: He lived before France said it was okay for women to wear pants.

Duke: When he was alive, slavery in America was still going on, and that old bastard did nothing to stop it.

Bruce: When he was alive, I’m pretty sure books were just starting to become a “popular new item.”

Duke (laughing): When he was alive, Einstein was being born.

Bruce: Typewriters were—

Ra's Al Ghul spoke up, having listened in on the entire conversation and silently entering the kitchen.

Ra’s (shouting, fists clenched): I am standing right here!

Bruce (dryly, indifferent tone): You are... Thank you for making your presence known.

Duke sprayed Ra’s with his super soaker gun, labeled "Holy Water" on the front. Ra’s shouted Arabic insults as water sprayed in his face.

Ra's (shouting): I am not Satan you buffoon! Demon's Head is just a title I gave myself!

Bruce (crossing his arms, enjoying the show): He might be lying Duke, spray him again.

Duke obliged with a smirk, Ra's raised his cane, but Duke was prepared

Duke: I dare you to strike me. I double dog dare you, and I will whup your ass!

Ra’s: You lay a finger on me, and—

Duke (dryly): I’ll burn from touching your demon body.

Bruce covered his mouth chuckling. Ra's gave Bruce a side ways glare.

Ra’s: I should’ve seen that coming. Bruce, stop enabling this behavior.

Bruce: You're not my boss.

Duke: That's right, and I follow the Lord. You don't scare me old demon man.

Ra's: I will only say this, I am not old not the devil! I simply have more experience than both of you!

Duke: When you were a young adult, was your idea of fun writing on papyrus or having story time by the campfire?

Bruce: Was it normal to call a free-thinking woman a witch when you were Duke's age?

Ra’s: I never agreed with accusing women of being witches and burning them! Campfire stories are a timeless activity, and you both are children compared to me!

Duke (raising his water gun): Were you friends with the snake that cursed humanity?

Ra’s shook with rage, ready to strike Duke with a mallet, but quickly changed his mind when he remembered his grandson actually cared about Duke.

Ra’s (whispering): Your grandson likes him. You can’t kill him. Your grandson likes him. You can’t kill him.

Duke: Bruce, does he low-key scare you sometimes?

Bruce: When I was younger, yes. But then I married his daughter, that got annulled, and his grandson is my son. A lot of that intimidation and mysticism faded during all of that.

Duke: Makes sense... Does Talia have a sister?

Bruce: Not a likable one.

Duke: Dang it… Hey, Damian, does your mom have a hot cousin who looks like her but is my age?!

Damian, having overheard that from the kitchen, hurried over holding a small baseball bat. Bruce grabbed the bat before it made contact with Duke’s head.

Damian (shouting angrily, pointing at the young man): Stay away from my mother and cousins! Father, make him stop! It makes me angry!

Bruce: He’s just messing around.

Bruce shooed Duke away with a knowing smile, hinting that he knew Duke wasn’t joking about dating a family member of Talia. Duke nodded, whistling a happy tune as he walked off.

Bruce: He made Ra’s angry, if that helps.

Damian (pouting angrily): It does a little.

[mochamoony]

"but for some reason, I can't give up on you."

WE READ AND DON'T JUDGE I'm not a writer, I js wrote this for fun bc I wanted to see it in writing.

idk if this needs a TW, but- TW: This piece deals with themes of substance relapse. And we have Remus upset at Sirius for substance relapse.

-

“Sirius,” Remus called out as he walked into the room, holding what looked like a pill bottle.

“Yes, Moons?” Sirius looked up and froze when he saw Remus’s expression.

“What’s this?” Remus asked, holding up the bottle. The one that belonged under Sirius’s bed.

“Just some vitamins,” Sirius mumbled.

Remus’s voice was ice. “Just vitamins, huh?” After a beat of silence, “Don’t lie to me. You said you were sober,” Remus said, voice low but sharp.

“I am,” Sirius shouted a bit too defensively. 

Remus just stared, wondering what to do. He had gotten Sirius sober many times, but he had failed every single time, including this one. Remus dropped to the floor, sliding down the wall, pulling his knees up to his chest.

“Sirius, I love you, you know that. Everyone in the whole world does. But I can't keep doing this, I can’t. Yet I do, every single time since we were 18, I pick you up after every fall and help you pick up the pieces. I never ask for anything except that you stay sober. That's all I ask, because I love you. I just want what’s best for you, but I'm so tired, Sirius.” 

Sirius wanted to say something. Anything. But his throat burned with guilt.

Remus spoke again, head in his hands. He then looked up into Sirius' eyes, those gray eyes he once loved to swim in. “I… I can’t keep doing this, but for some reason, I can't give up on you.” And at that, Remus had tossed Sirius the bottle, “Keep it or don’t. I don't care anymore,” he said, and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Sirius stared at the bottle in his hand, repeating Remus’s words, “For some reason, I can't give up on you.” The words echoed in his skull like a curse.

Remus wanted to give up on me. 

Remus. 

Gave. 

Up. 

On. 

Me. 

And suddenly, the room felt ten degrees colder. The severity of it hit him like a tidal wave. And there was nothing he could do to fix this. Remus was done picking up the pieces of his broken life. He was alone. He had James, but he would probably leave too after hearing what happened; he had been picking up Sirius’s remains since they were eleven.

Sirius was truly alone. Maybe his mother was right; no one would ever want him, he was just too much. 

His fingers tightened around the bottle until his knuckles turned white. The silence was unbearable. He wanted to scream, cry, throw something, anything, but he just sat there. Still. Hollow. He stared at the half-full bottle before popping it open and taking a handful.

[frownyalfred]

the batkids play the “what’s the most annoying injury you’ve ever had?” game but it’s lighthearted (“I broke both thumbs on a bad landing and couldn’t play video games for a month” “one time I got a cut on my leg that reopened every time I stood up” etc) until Bruce walks in. someone asks him the most annoying injury he’s ever had and he doesn’t even stop to think about it.

“Fracturing my spine.”

“Oh jeez,” Dick said, making a face. “Yeah, that’ll do it. That’s definitely…well, annoying isn’t the word I’d use.”

Bruce, expressionless: “Mostly because I couldn’t walk or complete other daily activities without assistance for an extended period of time.”

Dick, glancing at Jason. “Uh….huh.”

“What about that time Ivy hit you with that leaf and you couldn’t eat legumes for a year?” Jason asked, redirecting the suddenly maudlin group. “Wasn’t that more annoying?”

“Hmm.”

Tim leaned back, looking curious. “Just legumes?”

“Legumes,” Jason repeated, waving a hand. “It got ugly.”

“I’m not a huge fan of peanuts,” Bruce said, thoughtful.

“Yeah, no shit, I wonder why.”

[xxgoldie]

lighter x reader, alcohol (lighter is drunk, nitro-fuel is alcoholic here), otherwise just pure fluff

thinking about lighter, stumbling up to you, the smell of nitro-fuel on his breath (and his shirt - he'd definitely spilled some on himself earlier, though with how unstable he was standing, you were hardly surprised). a bit of a party atmosphere had developed around steeltusk's bar tonight, and lighter had definitely had more than he should have. you had barely joined the gathering for a few minutes, relaxing a bit further from the bar, but as soon as he'd noticed you, he had made a (very wobbly) beeline for you.

"(Y/N)."

his hands went to your shoulder, using you to stabilise himself, even though his weight made you stumble a bit too.

"hi," you laughed, a rare sight to see the champion so discomposed, though he was looking into your eyes with a slightly nervewracking seriousness through those shades.

"we should get married."

it took you a couple beats to process his slurred words. heat rushed to your face, one you hoped, if someone noticed, you could blame on the one drink you'd had so far. you searched his face for the punchline, or any sort of elaboration. all you found was a similar searching - he was waiting for you to answer. he was almost pleading with his eyes, swaying a little from the alcohol - this was absurd.

"you are so drunk," was all you could muster, chuckling in disbelief. lighter collapsed against you, arms wrapping around your neck and head on your shoulder, and you swore you heard a very uncharacteristic whine leave his mouth.

"you don't want to marry me," he pouted - just how many drinks had burnice given him, that lighter lorenz, infamous red scarf of the sons of calydon, was pouting?

"hey, i didn't say that," you comforted him, instinctively petting his hair in a way he seemed to enjoy. and it wasn't a lie - it was something you had dreamed about several times, but... "i just feel like you've skipped a few steps here, you know? we're just friends, lighter. and you really are very drunk."

he picked himself up from your shoulder to look at you again, but he was so close this time, the tip of his nose barely an inch from yours, his full bodyweight still leaning on you. for the first time, you really realised the position the two of you were in, and so publicly, the crowded bar not far away. but you couldn't quite get yourself to focus on them, not when there was so little space between you, and his stupid handsome face took up your entire field of view. the musky scent of his cologne cut through the smell of nitro-fuel and it made your thoughts brain spin even more, so you waited for him to say something. you doubted you could come up with any more coherent thoughts.

"what's step one?" he said eventually. you frowned, not sure what he meant. "what?" "you said I skipped steps. what's step one?" "to marrying me??" "yeah."

once again, you had to pause to process. was this his weird, misguided, honestly really cute, way of confessing to you? there was no way - but there was a sincerity in his gaze that went past alcohol. the best answer would probably be 'ask me on a date when you're sober', but he was too pretty to be considering best answers, and your mouth moved faster than your brain did.

"probably this," you muttered, then pulled him forward by the scarf, closing the distance between you. even drunk, his reaction time was instantaneous - you were the one to initiate the kiss, but his hands were around your waist so quickly it surprised you, pulling you somehow even closer into him. it was clumsy but full of heat, and you could feel his mouth form a victorious grin against yours.

when you eventually pulled away, though, your gaze was immediately drawn away from his to the rest of the sons of calydon, who were whooping and cheering from the bar.

"yes! i told you it'd go well, lighter!" caesar called, shooting you a wink. Lighter only responded to her with a thumbs up, his head returning to rest on your shoulder again.

"did you tell him to do that?" you yelled back, head still reeling from the kiss.

"so what? neither of you were gonna take the leap sober," she replied, and you realised she wasn't behind his words - not intentionally, anyway.

"he proposed to me!"

a round of shocked laughter from the gang, except for lucy;

"he WHAT?"

i truly had no idea how to end this. but like. i love lighter so so much but i especially love him being dorky and down bad. wc: 757

[cheer-nympho]

Steve had been conned into chaperoning the kids to a ren faire.

Admittedly with very little resistance, but he was keeping that to himself. Once there and with their bags packed away into some apparently theme appropriate tents he had shrugged on some medieval casual clothes and…immediately lost track of all of them,

But a figure he did spot was a long haired Jester entertaining a small entourage with juggling,

Steve finds himself laughing slightly condescendingly at the jingling man. Why do people find juggling so impressive?

He picked it up straight away with some hackey sacks while bored between practices. He’s just good with his hands.

When he looks back up to get another glance in however, the jester isn’t perched on top of his little rock anymore and the crowd has merged with the other dweebs.

Steve stares at the empty space for a moment before a jingle right by his ear spooks him into turning around.

“Art thou not impressed by my amazing skills, your lordship?” The jester asks, swaying on his feet and causing the bells all over him to ping, grin wide and mocking.

And up close Steve notices one very important, very dangerous thing.

This court jester is really fucking hot.

He looks like an idiot, a nerd, a dweeb. Its hard not to in a pointy hat. But he also wore it too well, looked too perfect like that.

Steve notices the…is that..? Yes, the corset wrapping tightly around the mans waist, red and black diamonds decorating the sides and leading to small puffy shorts. His legs are covered in tight black leggings which should look ridiculous. It should.

An obnoxious cough and head tilt-jingle make Steve aware that he has been staring at the mans waist for way longer than was ‘bro code permitted’

He looks up with a wince, expecting a look of disgust ranging from mild embarrassment to punch-your-lights-out.

He was, instead, greeted by a smug and knowing smile. The red and black triangles painted over the mans eyes warped where the grin reached them. “Or maybe thou art impressed, but skills are not what draw thine eyes.”

Shit. Fuck. The stupid hot nerd is using stupid nerd speak on him. And Steves stupid nerd, apparently ‘very accurate’ pants are getting tighter. He needs to say something. Anything.

“You’ve got…bells.” Okay, maybe not anything. He used to be better at this shit.

He is rewarded with a wild, joyous laugh as the jester throws his head from side to side. “I do! Isn’t it amazing?The staff insisted on it so they could hear me coming.”

“It certainly makes an impression-“

“Eddie, names Eddie. And what does my lordship go by?”

“Steve is fine.”

“That he is…” The comment was punctuated by a less than subtle glance, almost a leer. “However, Fine Steve seems unimpressed with my merrymaking. As the official court jester, I cannot let that stand.” He stamps his foot, causing another cacophony of jingles.” “Therefore…”

“…Pick a card any card!” A pack of standard cards was presented to him with a flourish, but all he could do was roll his eyes.

“Come on, really? This shit is basic. All I have to do it watch your hands. You’ll swipe my card out and put it back in later, or mark it somehow.”

“Ooo his highness has it all figured out doesn’t he. Well then, princess, you have nothing to lose by picking a card, do you?” And that was…true. Plus he could maybe try to fix his previous fumble and try to claw a number out of this disaster.

So with another bitchy roll of his eyes, Steve plucks a card from the deck and hides it behind his palm. Two of Hearts.

Then out of nowhere… “You know, Stevie, if you think I’m pretty you can just tell me. I know the kingdom would approve not of a noble like yourself marrying a commoner like me, but they need know little of how we…” He begins to reshuffle the cards, motioning for Steve to place his chosen one back in before making some very obvious, very crude movements with his fingers. “…get to know each other in the meantime.”

He was going to die. In the middle of a nerd fest.

“Well, my lord…” Eddie continues, circling him while dragging a finger across his arms and shoulder blades before coming to a stop in front of him. A very bold hand takes Steves jaw and forces his head up, pretending to inspect something on his costume for any bystanders.

“If you would like some more…close up demonstrations…” He leans in tightly, still holding Steve’s jaw in a tight grip. “You can pay me a visit in staff cabin 23 tonight.” He strokes a piece of hair gently behind Steve’s ear before pulling out a card, as if from said ear.

Steve was glad that Eddie took the initiative to carefully pull his hand up and place the card into his palm, because currently Steve was too preoccupied with staring like a fish out of water into Eddies eyes. Everything about him was just so captivating, so alive.

Maybe that’s why he did little more than step forward aimlessly, with small grabby hands when Eddie pulled away. Before Steve could even process it, the bells and jingles had mingled back into the crowd. But that was…that was okay. Cause he could go to the…cabin?

But how was he supposed to- Oh. He looks down. On the card was a loosely clipped room key with a ‘23’ crudely engraved into the edge as if by a pocket knife.

The card itself, to his horror, was the Two of Hearts.

Shit.

He forgot to watch the fucking hands.

[shxllyblog]

ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢꜱ- ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ ᴋᴇɴᴛᴏ

You wake up after a long night and your husband is busy making breakfast for the both of you. 

The sound of soft sizzling is what makes you wake up, as well as the smell of food. It was only then when you realised the absence of your husband in your bed that you sit up. The sunrise flooding into your room draping layers of gold onto the white sheets of your bed. You get up from the bed slipping on your fluffy slippers that Nanami had gotten you when you were out shopping a few days prior.

These are the types of mornings you want to wake up to, the soft sound of jazz music coming from the kitchen is what makes you smile. You make your way to the kitchen to see Nanami walking around the kitchen frying bacon and sausages while cracking eggs. You almost laugh at the sight of him trying to do three things at once, but to be fair he looked like he was focusing on all three. Something that you couldn’t do even if you tried. 

The familiar sound of your slippers hitting against the wooden floor is what makes him look up, he watches you stare at him with a weird expression on your face. The way the sunlight hit your face from outside made him smile, you looked gorgeous. He didn't know how long he had been watching you when the sizzling of the bacon became concerningly loud.

“Good morning.” He says as he flips the half burnt bacon in the pan, his voice makes you smile before. You knew that when it came to you he could only focus on one thing. Not that you did it intentionally. 

“Good morning dear.” You say as you walk around to the other side of the counter to look at what he has already cooked. 

You watch as he pours the egg into the already heated pan, the smell hitting your nose. You lift yourself onto an empty marble counter to sit on and watch as Nanami works across the kitchen. You always know he has loved cooking especially for you, as the food enthusiast he is he is always taking you to restaurants which always have the best food.

“How was your night?” He asks as he looks at you as he turns the egg in the pan, you can’t lie he looked amazing cooking for you. You might actually have a thing for it, but you wouldn’t tell him because if you did you’d never have the chance to cook again.

“Fine, I’m just tired, but the breakfast makes up for it.” You smile as you watch him plate the food, before walking over to you and giving you a light kiss and placing the plate of food on the counter next to you.

“You can go back to sleep, you know? After you eat.” He says as he holds his plate and starts eating, you had contemplated going back to sleep but you didn’t want to feel lazy. 

“I know, I know but I’m already awake.” You state before picking up the plate of food and taking a bite. It wasn’t long before you finished and the food was amazing, you had remarked on the fact that he should become a chef if anything doesn’t work out. 

You make your way to the sink before running the tap and placing the dirty dishes in the now soapy water, you grab the sponge and start washing the dishes. You get interrupted when Nanami wraps his arms around your waist from behind and pulls you to his chest before leaning his head on your shoulder. 

“I love you Y/n.” He whispers into your shoulder as you smile before placing a kiss on the crown of his head, before reply with the same affectionate words.

“Are you still tired?” He asks as he traces light circles on your hip, you could say no to him, not like this, you place the dishes down before turning around to face him and kissing him.

“Barely.” You smile as you look up at him the soft jazz music still playing in the background.

[adhd-coyote]

“General Kenobi, you claim an assassin killed the Chancellor?”

“Yes. Unfortunately, neither I nor Commander Fox saw them, as they used a flash bomb to disorient us and fled too quickly for us to follow.”

“And where, exactly, did they flee? No one reported seeing anyone leave this office.”

“Why, they fled through the broken window, of course.”

“What broken window?”

“That one.” Kenobi points. The previously intact window shatters, as if hit by a very strong invisible force. Neither Kenobi nor the Marshal Commander so much as twitch.

“Are you alright, sir?” Commander Fox asks, all concern. “You must be very tired, if you didn’t notice the clearly broken window. You should go rest. It’s okay, General Kenobi and I can take it from here.”

“Yes,” Kenobi agrees, prim and proper. He raises a hand, fingers slightly curled, and his voice takes on a different note. “Go home and take a nice, long nap. This will all be handled by the time you wake.”

“I will go home and take a nice, long nap. This will all be handled by the time I wake.”

“Very good. Have a nice evening.”

[fckbatmanhiskidsareminenow]

“He’s doing the rocking thing again,” Dick nudges him. Bruce hums and looks up from his computer at his eldest.

“Damian,” He whispers, pointing across the cave at his youngest. Damian is standing looking down on some pieces of paper that are spread out strategically on the floor. All of that would be normal except for the fact that he has one hand brought up to his mouth and he is rocking back and forth on his feet. Dick has mentioned seeing him do this previously but Bruce has never seen it in person.

Bruce studies him, he doesn’t look distressed. Damian’s distress or negative emotions in general tend to be a bit…loud for lack of better word. But this is completely silent. He looks calm.

“I think, it’s how he thinks,” Dick whispers and Bruce nods as they both watch Damian remove his fingers from his mouth to adjust the absolutely enormous noise cancelling headphones resting on his head. He hears Dick gag.

“Jeez, we probably shouldn’t let him put his fingers in his mouth but i dunno how to tell him it’s unsanitary without making him think he can’t stim at all,” Dick says conflicted. Stimming? Ah yes, Tim had given him a book on it a while ago. Maybe he’ll go read it when he’s done down here.

[coc0amocha]

🔞 Clit warming || "Just returning the favor"

Some under the table heating, juuusstt for you. He considers it an "act of service in repayment for your good deeds." And yes, that's exactly how he words it

Boyfriend!Satoru X Fem reader

Word count: 586

18+ mdni CocoaMocha 18+ mdni

Satoru layed lazily spread out on the bed, looking at you with adoring eyes as you sat across the room, hunched over your desk and engrossed in your work. The minutes ticked by, then the hours, as you toiled away, oblivious to his presence. You were so focused you haven't paid much mind to lil' ol' Satoru.

But he had a brilliant idea to solve that problem. For someone who doesn't think much, he didn't seem to go many places without one of those. Granted, some of those ideas not actually being very brilliant.

He sat up, the mattress creaking and dipping under his weight as he got up and strided his way over to your desk. Rolling the chair you were in back a little so he'd have space "'scuse me" he said softly, though it sounded like it was tinged with mischievous intent

"What're you doing, toru? I have to finish this" You responded, irritated and trying to tip-toe and scoot your chair back into place

"I'll put it back in a sec'" He said innocently as he crouched down and took a place under the desk, pulling the chair back in "I won't be distracting"

You narrowed your eyes at him "What are you up to now.."

"Nothing, I swear!" He whispered faintly but urgently as he began to fiddle with your pants, zipping them down

"Satoru!!" You squealed, your hand flying down to grip his wrists "Not right now.." You murmured

He looked up from under the desk, giving you puppy eyes and batting his snowy lashes at you "Please, sweets? It's not what you think. Y'know how you always keep me warm? Think of it like I'm returning the favor"

Your brows furrowed "How is that even supposed to–"

"–work?" He finished for you, a sly smirk forming on his face "Let me show you" he said as he unzipped your pants fully and slid them down to your ankles. Next came your panties, which he only pushed down partially before perching up on his knees and resting his chin on the chair between your legs and inhaling deeply, his warm breath ghosting over your skin as he peered up at you

Before you could even get a word in he placed his mouth against the hood of your clit, your breath hitched in your throat as his mouth closed around you. His tongue just resting there. As much as he wants to, he won't move at all. He did swear he wouldn't be distracting, and he's a man of his word...Sometimes...Rarely.

He remained maddeningly still, even as you twitched against him. A soft moan escaping your lips every now and then. And you tried to focus, you really did. You had all these spreadsheets and deadlines.. but all you kept thinking about was the heat coming from between your thighs and the weight of his head cushioning your increasingly sensitive skin.

He relished in every soft gasp and moan that left your mouth while you tried to keep working. And he'd happily stay put until you were done with your work, whether it took minutes or hours. As long as he got to taste you properly after – which he would figure out how to get his way..He was totally okay with this.

"You're insufferable.." You murmured, only for him to hum happily against you in response. You could hear the 'you know you like it' without him even having to actually say it. And it made you roll your eyes.

[gildedsilk]

Fast Talker ❀

• Choi Soobin x Reader | Wc: 300+ | Humor, fluff | PG-13 ༻

𝜗𝜚 Gildie's Note ៹ Inspired by that iconic scene when Kai woke him up 😹

༺ Masterlist

You were on Soobin’s lap, your fingers in his hair, lips soft and slow on his—and he swore he was seconds away from forgetting where you guys were entirely. The world had narrowed down to your weight on him, the way you tilted your head just right, your breath brushing over his cheek as you pulled back slightly to smile.

In other words, he’s obsessed with you.

And then Kai’s voice cut through the air like a frying pan to the face.

“Hyung, are you ordering food?”

Soobin blinked. You were still close, your mouth now curved in amusement, and he could feel your shoulders shaking with silent laughter as he sat up straight, sighing through his nose.

Then it happened. The switch flipped. He could feel his pulse pick up as his voice jumped two octaves, words spilling out faster than your brain could pace them.

“Am I ordering food? No, Kai, I am not ordering food. I was literally just—do you see me holding a phone? Does this look like ordering food to you? We literally talked like, twenty minutes ago about ordering together, and you said you didn’t know if you were hungry yet, so I was waiting, right? Like a normal, considerate roommate who doesn’t want to make two separate orders and double the delivery fees when we all live under the same roof. But now you walk in—mid-kiss, by the way—and act like I was secretly placing an order without you, like I’m the villain in some fast-food betrayal story?”

You buried your face in his shoulder, laughing into his hoodie.

Kai blinked from the doorway, holding a bag of chips. “…So that’s a no?”

Soobin groaned and fell back against the couch, pulling you with him.

“Someone else order. I’m done.”

But even while flustered, he could feel your smile against his neck—and he couldn’t help smiling too.

[carebeardean]

Charles has always left Edwin little notes slipped between the pages of his favorite books, in his science equipment, places he knows Edwin loves. Just silly things—post its that say “hi Edwin :)”. doodles of Edwin with his nose stuck in a book. reminders to stock up on wolfsbane. but.

Then, post canon, Edwin tentatively starts dating people. And it’s ridiculous, because Edwin’s right there, all the time, but Charles..misses him a bit. And his heads a mess, and he can’t sort out what the hell he’s feeling most of the time, and whenever he tries to say any of it out loud it comes out rubbish.

So. He writes down some of the shit he can’t say right, and because he’s a coward, hides them so he doesn’t have to see Edwin’s face when he reads them.

then Edwin starts writing back.

Neat lilac blue little envelopes appear in Charles coat pockets. In his bag. Once, in his shoe? Some nights, Edwin will clear his throat and mention something from a letter, offhand, like they’re just picking up conversation, and Charles can pretend they are. That they always have talked about the basement, the belt, the nameless fear that chokes him every time Edwin walks out the door with someone else on his arm.

Sometimes he can’t. The words get stuck in his throat. Edwin’s not mad, he’s maddeningly, stubbornly kind about it, which is worse.

Some nights they trade. A secret for a secret. Charles learns about the novels Edwin used to hide under his mattress, about all the lonely years before Charles got there. About Simon.

Meanwhile, Edwin is losing his mind, because Charles has accidentally stumbled onto what was a fucking courting ritual in his time. Love letters were something engaged couples treasured for years, kept and reread over and over. (Edwin does. keep them in a special box, will take one out and trace the words, tuck it in his breast pocket for courage).

Edwin would rather have to reattach a limb again than lose Charles trust, all the dark and beautiful things he shares with Edwin only. He knows—knows Charles doesn’t mean to make him fall more in love with him.

[gothamite-rambler]

Jason Todd entered the gas station in the middle of a robbery. One customer was on the ground, clutching a gunshot wound to his stomach. A little girl was sobbing in fear, the cashier was nervously stuffing money into a bag, and the gunmen was pacing and panicking.

Gunman: It wasn’t supposed to go this way! I just wanted the money and to leave! It’s your fault for screaming!

The gunman aimed the gun at the young girl, making her freeze in horror.

Gunman: I wanna die. I wanna die!

Jason: I think you should.

Gunman (turning to Jason): What?

Jason: You’re of no use to society. You’ll waste innocent taxpayer dollars, abuse the weak legal system, and enter a cowardly plea of insanity to a morally bankrupt defense attorney. For what?

While Jason waited for a response, the young girl took a few steps to the side, away from the barrel of the gun, already pulling out her phone and recording the tense standoff.

Jason: Nothing to say? I figured. Oh, and once you're incarcerated, you'll cost taxpayers around 47 thousand dollars a year. So, you know what, make sure you point the barrel of the gun to the back of your throat.

Gunman (aiming the gun at Jason): I think I just changed my mind.

Jason (already drawing his gun): That is so not an option.

Jason shot the gunman once in the shoulder, then aimed for his head, causing the man to fall to the ground dead. The young girl gasped, slightly terrified, but that fear was pushed aside by relief at being saved.

Wounded man: That was... an awesome speech. I’m losing a lot of blood, but solid speech and shot, though.

Jason: Thanks. You can post that video, kid. Are you okay?

Little girl: Traumatized, but that’s Gotham for you, right? On my tenth birthday, I saw the Joker launch a weather balloon filled with wasps... that was not a fun day.

Jason: Usually isn’t when he’s escaped. Anyway, I need smokes. Do you have Newports?

Cashier: Uh, sure. You have to stay here and talk to the police, though. I’ll vouch for you, but I don’t want to be blamed for this guy’s death.

Jason: That’s fine.

[werewolfadmirer]

that went straight through my heart </3

"but for some reason, I can't give up on you."

WE READ AND DON'T JUDGE I'm not a writer, I js wrote this for fun bc I wanted to see it in writing.

idk if this needs a TW, but- TW: This piece deals with themes of substance relapse. And we have Remus upset at Sirius for substance relapse.

-

“Sirius,” Remus called out as he walked into the room, holding what looked like a pill bottle.

“Yes, Moons?” Sirius looked up and froze when he saw Remus’s expression.

“What’s this?” Remus asked, holding up the bottle. The one that belonged under Sirius’s bed.

“Just some vitamins,” Sirius mumbled.

Remus’s voice was ice. “Just vitamins, huh?” After a beat of silence, “Don’t lie to me. You said you were sober,” Remus said, voice low but sharp.

“I am,” Sirius shouted a bit too defensively. 

Remus just stared, wondering what to do. He had gotten Sirius sober many times, but he had failed every single time, including this one. Remus dropped to the floor, sliding down the wall, pulling his knees up to his chest.

“Sirius, I love you, you know that. Everyone in the whole world does. But I can't keep doing this, I can’t. Yet I do, every single time since we were 18, I pick you up after every fall and help you pick up the pieces. I never ask for anything except that you stay sober. That's all I ask, because I love you. I just want what’s best for you, but I'm so tired, Sirius.” 

Sirius wanted to say something. Anything. But his throat burned with guilt.

Remus spoke again, head in his hands. He then looked up into Sirius' eyes, those gray eyes he once loved to swim in. “I… I can’t keep doing this, but for some reason, I can't give up on you.” And at that, Remus had tossed Sirius the bottle, “Keep it or don’t. I don't care anymore,” he said, and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Sirius stared at the bottle in his hand, repeating Remus’s words, “For some reason, I can't give up on you.” The words echoed in his skull like a curse.

Remus wanted to give up on me. 

Remus. 

Gave. 

Up. 

On. 

Me. 

And suddenly, the room felt ten degrees colder. The severity of it hit him like a tidal wave. And there was nothing he could do to fix this. Remus was done picking up the pieces of his broken life. He was alone. He had James, but he would probably leave too after hearing what happened; he had been picking up Sirius’s remains since they were eleven.

Sirius was truly alone. Maybe his mother was right; no one would ever want him, he was just too much. 

His fingers tightened around the bottle until his knuckles turned white. The silence was unbearable. He wanted to scream, cry, throw something, anything, but he just sat there. Still. Hollow. He stared at the half-full bottle before popping it open and taking a handful.

[frownyalfred]

Green arrow, getting into a fight with batman because he insulted bruce

“No, I want to hear you say it again,” Ollie said, leaning over the conference table and past Dinah to jab a finger in Batman’s face. “Insult him again, I dare you.”

Batman, for his part, looked entirely unperturbed by Ollie’s chest puffing. “I said, Bruce Wayne isn’t exactly known for being intelligent. That’s common knowledge, Green—”

“Do you know what he’s been through?” Ollie exploded, “Do you know how fucked up his childhood was? It’s a miracle he’s functioning as an adult. I knew him in school — do you know what he was? Sad. And you have the nerve to sit in your stupid little angst suit and lecture me about Bruce Wayne?”

Dinah swallowed, giving up on holding Ollie back. She glanced at Batman out of the corner of her eye, prepared to size up an opponent, but the other man’s posture was still relaxed.

He seemed…taken aback, if such a thing was possible for the Batman.

“I…apologize,” Batman said quietly. “I hadn’t realized the extent of your feelings toward him.”

“Pick on someone your own size next time,” Ollie grumbled, as close to an apology as he would get. “Bruce does so much for Gotham. More than you’ll ever do. So yeah, if he’s a little air-headed sometimes — that’s fine with me.”

With that, Ollie turned on his heel, exiting the conference room with a huff. Batman stared after him for a long moment, steeped in stillness.

“He cares about his friends,” Dinah offered, breaking the awkward silence. Batman gave her an odd look, jaw tensing.

“I know.”

“Now you do,” Dinah said, putting enough emphasis on the first word for him to look up at her, acknowledging the hint. “I’d better go check on him.”

[xxgoldie]

lighter x reader, established relationship, just pure fluff n domestic shit

thinking about lighter who never really thought about settling down, because you can't really miss what you've never had. he could understand the appeal in theory, but a physical 'home' never really felt like something lacking from his life. which is probably why the spare key to your small house felt so foreign in his pocket. he stayed there every time the sons of calydon were in town so he might as well have the key, you had said. besides, it was a symbol that he was welcome any time. your relationship was past the point of invitations.

the first time he came back, he almost felt like an intruder while unlocking the door. but instantly, the familiar smell of you hit him, mixed with the smell of cooking, and the interior that looked exactly as it had when he had left, and he felt at ease. when he went into the kitchen, you looked over your shoulder at him from the stove, that familiar loving spark in your eyes.

"welcome home!"

you were, at least in part, joking, and lighter knew it. but the warmth that filled him at the words hit him as hard as if it were steeltusk.

home. shit, he got it now.

a lopsided grin spread across his face as he made his way over to you, strong arms wrapping around your waist as you continued cooking.

"you're in luck, i'm making more than one portion."

lighter couldn't help but smile at the way the two of you automatically fell into the rhythm of a daily life. no need for grand reunions - he came back, and you were making enough food for two, and it was comfortable and safe and home.

"mmm," he buried his face into the crook of your neck, not even thinking to be embarrassed that you could probably feel how wide he was grinning, "lucky indeed."

perhaps im manifesting lighter coming home with this. or perhaps i just love him a lot. perhaps both. wc: 315

[cheer-nympho]

Steve was always being brushed off when he asked people to read things aloud for him,

In middle school his assigned partner for their ‘Frankenstein’ project gave him a scornful glare and ignored him when he had asked them to read the passages aloud.

In his sophomore year, he’d turned to ask Robin Buckley to read a old newspaper article about the ‘Wild West’ to him, because he couldn’t make it out through the fonts and weird words. She had fixed him with a cold look but before she could respond, Tammy was tapping his shoulder offering her help.

Then, while studying with Nancy and Barb at lunch, Steve had asked for help reading study cards. His own study cards. The paper was too bright and the squiggles too squiggly. Both of them had looked at him, them each other, clearly trying to decide if it was a joke.

Barb had scoffed under Nancys pointed look and gone back to her own notes. And while Nancy hadn’t read them out for him, she had handed him her own notes on some nice blue and yellow cards. It took him a while, but he could read them. Maybe she thought he hadn’t wrote any.

After that, he went a long time without asking anyone to read him things. Turns out that once you graduate, reading isn’t much of an issue. He’d gotten by just fine by looking at his Archie comics and ignoring the swirling lines of articles surrounding them.

He didn’t need to ask again until Scoops Ahoy. For a cheap, overly themed ice cream parlour there sure was a whole lot of memorising and reading to be done. He couldn’t see the charts properly, couldn’t really make out the dates on the tubs in the freezer. But every time he asked Robin for help, her frown would deepen and deepen until she just snapped. It hadn’t been that mean, really. Just an annoyed yell followed by accusations of being lazy, her not understanding how he managed to graduate, one last comment of him being a ‘bumbling idiot’.

After the Russians, she never said anything like that to him again. And she always did the inventory and lists for him.

It takes until summer, 1987, for anyone to read aloud to Steve. They were laying across Eddie’s new bed in comfortable silence.

Steve had his legs dangling off the edges as Eddie leant back against him, legs pointing up against the wall in a way he swore was actually comfortable. He had been reading a new book called “Spellfire” and he couldn’t seem to put it down.

“Eddie?”

“Hm?”

“What’s your book about?”

“This? Well I…Not sure it’s really your thing, man.”

“Maybe.” He goes back to reading. “I could see if it’s my thing?”

Eddie twists his head sideways to look up at Steve with a slightly confused face. “You wanna borrow it?”

“Was thinking you could read it.” He fiddled with the pocket of his jeans in a hopefully casual and not freaking out way. He didn’t look at Eddie as he waited, but after a few moments he responded.

“Sure. That’s fine, yeah. Want me to start over or go from here?”

“From there is good.”

And it was good, it was really really good. Steve hadn’t been able to read a book since middle school, hadn’t really tried again after that. But as he lay back and let Eddie’s voice wash over him he couldn’t help feeling that he’d been missing out.

Sure, it actually wasn’t really his thing, but the way Eddie read aloud painted such a clear picture that Steve enjoyed it anyway. The other would change his voice slightly for different characters and added emotions into his speaking. If it was a tense moment, he’d go slow and add gaps in just the right places. If it was fast paced he’d speed up and get more and more manic until the action cut off. He felt like he was reading along. Felt like he could see the pages in the book, but also the characters and the dungeon they were combining through.

So, for the first time Steve hadn’t been brushed off. He had probably found the only person he knew who could turn reading a book into a performance. One he would happily be seated for every night.

From then on, new books turned up at the trailer every week, Steve not far behind.