#Unorthodox adoption

[lmadsadness]

your honour i love them

[mythvoiced]

OPEN STARTER | Patrick Finch

"I condone lying. I encourage it, even. I recommend it. I could hardly live without it."

[mazamba]

"You need what?"

"I know it's a lot to ask," cut in Danny before Batman could go from confused to angry, "Just let me explain. I swear it's for a good reason."

Batman eyed his teammate skeptically. King Phantom was one of the League's newest and youngest members. Despite his unorthodox introduction to the team, he and his sister, Stray, had proven to be valuable additions to the Justice League and to the Teen Titans respectively. He was tall and imposing, despite his relatively slender frame. His visage was made the more menacing by the Crown of Fire that hovered above his head in a tiny version of the Aurora Borealis instead of his predecessor's green flames, the royal armor over his jumpsuit, and the fur-trimmed coat made of a rippling window into space.

"Ok, so you know how Bruce Wayne adopted Cassandra Cain, but she's David Cain's biological daughter, right?"

"..."

"...right! So, at some point, David sold human eggs on the black market," he continued, "you have no idea how hard it was to get the information on Vlad's supplier, but we did figure out that he bought the eggs from Cain for his experiments and then completely messed up the cloning process."

"How?"

"We have no idea! But my clone, my sister, has my ghost DNA, but part of mine and someone else's human DNA."

"What makes you think it's Cassandra's?"

He pulled out his phone, a two-year-old model with a cracked screen, and showed him the face of his sixteen-year-old sister in her human form next to a picture of Bruce's own eighteen-year-old daughter from a tabloid.

"She looks a lot like me," he admitted, "but she also looks a lot like Cassandra Cain, so we think Vlad got a sample mixed up or forgot to take out a nucleus or something and made-."

"A daughter instead of a clone."

It was a good thing Phantom wasn't particularly good at reading body language, or his tightening fist might've alerted him that something was wrong.

"I mean... sort of? It's different with clones. She's technically my daughter but I turned nineteen, like, a month ago, so I don't thi- I'm getting off track! The point is, Dani's destabilizing again and I need a clean DNA sample to help her. I tried to get into Wayne manor, but the place is warded to hell and back. You know Bruce Wayne, right? Can you help me talk with Cassandra?"

Batman sighed and turned his head to Phantom's right.

"Orphan."

"Motherfu-! How long has she been standing there!?"

She didn't respond to his yelp/question and instead turned to Batman.

"Take a tube to Gotham and ask Cassandra Wayne for a DNA sample."

Orphan nodded and walked off to the tubes.

"... Is it just me or was she a little quieter than usual?"

Bruce sighed, not looking forward to whatever his week was about to become.

[archieimagines]

touching din | din djarin

Summary: The three times that Din bends his own rules and engages in physical touch. 

his primary love languages are acts of service and physical touch. i will die on this hill. i started this one just to indulge in the thoughts of touching his lovely face. it’s been in the works for a while and although i know it’s far from perfect, i’m glad that it finally gets to see the light of day! warnings: bad language, potential incoherence? idk i’m very tired but i hope you like it tags: plenty of fluff, plenty of indulgent, sfw touching, and then a good handful of angst. rollercoaster central. this takes place over a period of time, so part of it comes after finding out grogu’s name, which is why he’s referred to as many things! word count: 4650 written by: archie support me on ko-fi!

The travelling between planets would’ve been excruciating if not for your life partner and your adoptive child. The three of you made rather an unorthodox family. A runaway from Corellia, a Mandalorian and a… a sweet ball of green. An unorthodox family, indeed, but loving.

The Child chirped and bubbled away on your lap, apparently having a conversation with you while you sat in the pilot seat. You listened attentively, made agreeing noises at all the right moments, the lights of hyperspace travel filling the cabin with slow flashes. He really was so cute. You’d tell him it often, and you’d tell him that Din thought so too, even if he’d never say it. That much was obvious.

It was in the way he carried him, the way he protected him. The occasional pat to his head, or the quiet rub to his long ears as he slept. He wasn’t the type to openly say it, but it was clear, and that was what counted.

The Child reached out to the knob atop the gearstick, fingers wiggling.

“Baby, no. We have to always ask Din about the ship, hm?” You bounced him gently on your knee in an effort to ease the sad coos- but there was no need. A gloved hand reached around you, exposed fingertips closing on the ball. It was unscrewed and placed into the waiting green hands, content whirs and chatters soon filling the air.

The warmth in your chest grew into a smile as you dropped your head back, peering up at the helmeted man that stood just out of sight. “That’s a yes, then?”

A nod. “That’s a yes.”

“I didn’t hear you come up.”

He nudged his head to the Child, voice soft, “You were having an important conversation.”

And then he did what you loved.

He reached a slow hand out and stroked it over the top of your head, coming to a gentle hold at the nape of your neck, and leaned in. Your eyes fell closed as the cool beskar met between your brows, and you didn’t need to see him to know his eyes were closed too.

A beskar kiss.

You heard a soft sigh through his voice modulator. This was the way his people would show love. He made no move to break away, even from the awkward angle at which he leant. He savoured the moment, breathed with you, his thumb running back and forth over your skin. You weren’t sure if he could feel the goosebumps that his touch rose every time, his fingertips slipping into the lower roots of your hair.

He loved to touch you, you could tell. It wasn’t easy, and these moments were few and far between with his action-packed lifestyle, but the tenderness of these touches clearly meant so much to him. To you.

Without disturbing the occupied bundle on your lap, you reached for Din’s other hand. It hung by his side until you took it in your own, slowly raising it to place your kiss on the knuckles of his fingers. You kept it there a while, backs of his fingers to your lips, his helmet pressed to your forehead. The warmth of those digits filled a void left by the cold beskar. The warmth of human touch.

Long moments slipped by as you absorbed it until you became self-conscious. He hadn’t pulled away, but you weren’t even sure how he’d felt about it with his covered expression, so you let out a resigned sigh and lowered his hand.

But he surprised you.

His fingers opened up instead, laying delicately on the side of your jaw, his similar hold on the back of your neck still in place.

His thumb reached out to meet the corner of your lips, before tentatively, almost shyly, brushing over the centre of them.

He wanted more.

You were only too happy to oblige, lips raising into a delicate peak, placing a tender kiss to the pad of his thumb. Soon, he shifted, placing his index finger there instead. Then his middle. Each of his fingers tapped to your lips, and you made sure to place your affection on the tip of each one, giving in to the urge to smile.

He loved this.

You heard the tinned sound of a sigh before his fingers slipped away once again, soon followed by his reluctant leaning away.

He stood tall above where you sat, visor staying fixed on you. He was just looking. Just peaceful. You shone an easy smile, somehow both cosy and breathless from the moment.

His helmet turned towards the green being on your lap.

He blinked up at Din, and soon, a confused coo filled the cabin.

Din shrugged one shoulder. “You’ll get it when you’re older.” And with that, he settled back into the passenger seat, arms crossing over his chest. “Rest up,” he called, presumably to the pair of you. “We’ll touch down for fuel in six hours.”

Din’s bunk was the epitome of comfort. Cramped, yes. Warm, yes. Especially with two bodies. It’d easily become stuffy in there with the panel sealed while the pair of you shared his thin mattress, and you’d always wondered how he managed to keep his helmet on even in that environment. Or perhaps… He couldn’t feel the stuffiness because of the beskar. Or maybe… He was just always stuffy in there, used to closed air.

Your eyes raised from where you’d had them closed, cheek pressed to the chest of his flight suit to mimic sleep. Early mornings after a long, well-deserved sleep often came like this, and there was something so soul-healing about laying there to absorb his calm, peaceful presence before getting up for what would likely be another day of action.

Watching his visor for long moments, working out if he was still sleeping or looking back at you- it had become somewhat of a hobby. Sometimes, you had convinced yourself, if you looked hard enough, you could see the slightest shape beneath the vision slot of his helmet.

You weren’t sure if they were really there. But, in the dim light of the bunk, you could swear the bridge of his nose casted a shadow that caused a darker shadow inside the mask. His lashes were dark and long, and they fluttered slowly as his eyes closed in steady blinks, looking back at you with such leisure.

But then… Had you made that up?

You squinted, straining your eyes until you were sure— yes, you’d made it up. He was still sleeping.

But it didn’t hurt to imagine he had long lashes and a strong nose, perhaps even a strong brow to match. It didn’t hurt to imagine you could see the faintest outlines of the man you love.

Sated, you turned your cheek back to his chest, eyes falling closed to mimic his slumber. Or at least—

“Morning.”

— What you thought was slumber. 

His voice was groggy in the modulator; that intimate morning voice. Deeper, softer than usual.

It brought a smile to your lips. “Morning, my love. You were awake?”

“I have been for a while.” His arm tightened snug around your body in his hold, half atop his. “I like to watch you wake up.”

A soft laugh. “Not creepy, hm?”

“Not even a little bit.”

Silence lapsed with his low tone. All was quiet. Not the whirring of the ship, not the sounds of the forest he’d landed the Crest in the clearing of. Only the delicate air of his breathing inside his mask, catching in the voice modulator so quietly that ordinarily, you wouldn’t be able to hear it.

The thought stirred a deep intimacy in your chest. No one else would get to hear this. No one else would get to lay with him like this, press against his armour-free body like this. You splayed a hand over the cloth of his chest, toes wiggling from an uncontainable contentment with how your leg rested over his. Not an ounce of beskar between the two of you.

But yet… 

Gentle fingertips trailed upwards, over his upper chest, swirling delicate patterns in the creases of his fabric. Your eyes remained closed, focusing everything on him, the warmth that met your touch when you worked past the collar of the flight suit, meeting the skin of his neck.

It wasn’t the first time you’d touched him so. Of course, after this long together, you’d been intimate many a time-- You were both human, after all... But the helmet had always stayed on.

Your fingertips splayed over his throat, and it vibrated with his low hum.

It was no secret by now. He loved to be touched.

You could just imagine him there beneath the visor, eyes closed, brow relaxed. His face caught in a long moment of calm where it was often riddled with worry, or effort from the fighting. Bringing him such serenity like this was the least you could do for him, showing him that he’s loved. So, so loved.

Slowly, your touch crept just a little further up, seeking his jaw. But as your knuckles knocked the edge of his helmet, a gentle hand closed around your wrist in warning. He didn’t need to speak.

Your voice was the softest murmur. “I won’t take it off. Can I just- Feel you?”

He didn’t move, not for a while. You raised your eyes, peering up at him from where you were nestled in his chest, as if you could possibly read his facial expressions.

His hold eased, thumb lazily rubbing over your veins before letting go, and you found a buzz of warmth in your chest. He trusted you with his most precious boundary. Silently, you vowed to always protect that trust.

Delicate fingers worked upwards, feeling for hair from his chin. But, a soft gasp- There was no beard. The gentle prickle of cropped hairs caught your fingerprints as they swiped along his jaw, and you marvelled at it.

“You shave?” The words came out with a soft, amused breath of disbelief, eyes rounded in surprise. For some reason, it’d always made sense that he’d be bearded, long-haired. He had no reason to shave, knowing that no one would ever see, but now that you knew, it clicked.

Of course he’d shave. Din was a particularly thorough person, he was always driving himself forward to do a perfect job of his work: of course he’d take care of himself too.

“If it grows too long, it’s uncomfortable. Catches in the modulator.”

“Ah,” you hummed, brushing along the ridge of his jaw in the confined space. There was something about feeling his jaw move as he spoke, verifying that he really was human, really did have goings-on behind the mask that shielded him from the world. There wasn’t much room in there to move freely, only your fingers able to reach his face, but it was comfortable. You could feel the soft sway of his breath on your touch. “What colour is it?”

“Black. Brown, black.”

You hummed, eyes fixed on his visor lazily, though you weren’t really looking at him. You were visualising as you studied the contours of his lower face, mapping him out as best as you could in your mind, nails brushing through the stubble on his cheek. They trailed towards the corner of his lips, where you noticed the strands got longer. A moustache?

The smile that lifted your face was automatic, beaming at the realisation. You followed the direction of it, above his upper lip, soon finding a little sparse patch on his philtrum. Your eyes drifted closed, imagining the way it might feel to kiss him now that you knew this; how his facial hair would scratch your upper lip, your chin. Perhaps it would be almost sore on your skin if you kissed him long enough, hot enough--

His lips raised to press a real kiss to the centre of your fingers. Slow, shy, even a little clumsy.

A rich gasp pulled from your throat. It was electric to feel his lips on your skin, pressing the affection directly onto you, after these long years of going without.

You let your fingertips lower, finally feeling the shape of his lips, that subtle cupid’s bow as it raised into yet another peck, slow and tender against your touch. Your brows drew together, fighting the emotion that welled up in you, trying to make you cry. You weren’t all too sure why-- this was just- so much. It was so much, to feel him like this, to receive his first kisses like this. Something you’d never even imagined you could have.

“Don’t cry,” he murmured against your fingertips, tone almost a caress. His own fingers raised to brush at the corner of your eye. One must’ve slipped out.

You didn’t even know he was looking at you. Your lashes fluttered open, gaze meeting where you imagined his eyes would be. “I can’t help it,” you whispered. “You’re perfect.”

He’d lied to you. He’d massively, irrevocably, intentionally lied to you.

Your jaw ached from your grit teeth as you fought back angry fires in your heart, determined not to cry until you’d pulled your family safely off this forsaken, evil planet.

Din had been tasked with a mission of political undertones involving the spice market. He was masking as a bounty hunter to get information, so this time, the importance was in keeping the right people alive.

Of course, it didn’t work, and those people were now trying to kill you.

Your fingers trembled as you fought against the clock and the jolts of blasters firing at the ship to strap Grogu into his passenger seat. Your eyes were bleary, but you had to focus, secure him in safely. You wouldn’t take anyone’s safety for granted after this stupid stunt.

“Get her in the sky!” Din shouted up through the hatch, pushing his voice so loudly against the fighting and blasters below that it almost outgrew the modulator, his real voice peeking through. 

Grogu’s sweet eyes peered up at you, giving a questioning gurgle. The poor thing had no idea what was going on, was probably terrified by it all, and even your demeanour on top of it, but you didn’t have time to explain.

“We need to go!”

You buckled the baby in tightly and fought your emotions to ruffle a quick hand atop his head, hoping to soothe him even a small degree before falling into the pilot’s seat, specifically buckling yourself in, and jamming the engine on with jerky movements. 

The Crest resisted you, far too old and rickety by now to be good for quick getaways with a cold engine, but with some slow drags, turbulence from knocking through trees and extra laser blasts from below, she was finally in the air.

You heard the distinctive sound of fighting downstairs, someone being kicked off the ramp at an easy 400 feet altitude, and then the mechanical sound of the ship being closed off again. 

The ladder creaked with Din’s climbing, and you didn’t look back to him as he collapsed into the other passenger seat, not ready to talk to him yet. You were still seething, and wouldn’t engage with him until you’d pulled up safely out of the planet’s atmosphere.

Long moments of quiet dragged by. He knew you by now. He didn’t need to see more than the square set of your shoulders to know that he shouldn’t speak yet unless he wanted to upset you more. That, and you still didn’t look at him even as the minutes neared a full hour, focused on getting to the nearest hyperspace route.

He glanced to Grogu, who sat there blinking, clueless as he could be. He must’ve known something was going on, even if he didn’t know what exactly Din had done.

Din reached a gloved hand out, petting lightly on the green boy’s head. He still didn’t speak.

Eventually, your frustrated fires ebbed into a more containable state, you shifted the Crest into light speed, and unbuckled your belt with a heaved sigh. “Downstairs, Din.”

You stood, instructed Grogu not to touch a thing, headed down the hatch, and pointedly avoided looking at Din the whole time.

The body of the ship was chaos. Lazed burns in everything the three of you owned, strewn across the floor and torn from the struggle. Clearly, he’d really had to put up a fight. 

It was his own fault.

Boot on metal as he stepped onto the floor beside you. You finally looked at him.

You didn’t need to see his face to know he was exhausted. It was in the way he held himself, the way his arms just hung there by his sides, strong shoulders visibly slouched to the trained eye.

You reeled on him. “Why didn’t you let me in on it?”

Silence.

“Less of that, Din. Speak to me, I need to understand.”

There was a pause before his voice came. Firm, but gentle, as if pointedly trying to keep the peace. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Then make me understand.” You pulled an upturned crate closer and planted yourself on it, trying to keep the buzz in your veins under control, but your tone was clipped nonetheless as you gestured to a crate nearby. “Go ahead, let’s hear it.”

He sighed and tugged the crate over, perched on the corner of it opposite you. His knees were parted and elbows on his thighs, hands clasped together as he thought through his facts. The best way to make you see that he’d done the right thing.

“I couldn’t tell you my true location because if you knew, your presence would have soiled the plan.”

“So you’re telling me I’m a hindrance.”

“No.”

“That’s certainly what it sounds like-”

“It needed full discretion to work. I’d told them-”

“I can keep fucking secrets, Din.”

“I know you can.”

“So you lied? Told me you were on the other side of town? How was I supposed to get to you if something went wrong?”

He sighed, his head dropping forwards in exasperation. “I told you to stay on the ship.”

“That’s not always possible. You know it’s not! Hunters still have fobs fixed onto Grogu, Din, there’s no escaping that!”

“I couldn’t have you interrupting or we’d all be dead. I’d told them I was alone- no, look at me.”

Your jaw was aching from how you grit your teeth as you forced yourself to look up at that visor, the weight of frustrated tears brimming at your waterline. You gave a small nod.

“Listen,” he started. “I’d told them I came alone. If you’d known my location, you would have interrupted.”

“To save your skin? Yeah, I would.”

“Exactly. We’d both be dead, and the hunters would take the kid.”

“You think I can take care of him without you? We don’t stand a chance without you around, Din.”

He paused. Quiet lapsed, and you had no idea what he was thinking. Sometimes, he really gave nothing away, and it was infuriating. He didn’t let you in. He would rarely open up to you about what was going on inside that beskar that hid everything from you. Everything.

Sometimes, you were sure you didn’t even know the man you were committed to. He held so much of the power in this setup. He knew everything about you, everything was done by his thinking, and yet he didn’t need to disclose much at all. He’d keep you in the dark about everything.

What he was feeling, what he was thinking… Hell, even when he smiled at you he kept it to himself. You’d grown to handle those, but this, actively lying to you. As if you couldn’t follow instructions. As if you couldn’t be trusted.

You sighed as the drops in your eyes welled up enough to fall over your cheeks. You pulled yourself off the crate and approached the ladder to the cabin, calling over your shoulder. “Go clean up or something,” you sniffled, “I need a minute away from you.”

The clang of footsteps behind you, a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Hey. Look at me.”

“I can’t, Din.”

“Why not?”

Such a simple question, such an impossible answer. You closed your eyes, struggling to pick out words that might illustrate what’s going on inside. The ache that sank your chest, that made your throat feel heavy with uncried frustrations. None of this was okay. Perhaps after you’d cooled down, you’d be able to see that mask as anything other than a barrier between you, that keeps him safe from your eyes. But for now, you couldn’t bare it. You scrambled to express it, but all you could let out was a strained “It hurts.”

Another moment of silence. Then, carefully, “What hurts?”

Clearly, he didn’t mean for his words to bring on the tidal wave of emotions and thoughts that you’d been keeping at bay.

“This, Din. All of this! Living in a ship, wondering if I’m gonna make it back in every time I step out of it, and not even being in on missions that risk your life! It’s like you’re cut off from me. Like we just live in the same space and I’m just there to entertain you. But it’s- it’s-!” You heaved a sigh, head buzzing with the force of the thoughts that were spilling out. They were so honest and raw from brewing for far too long. They must’ve been sharp as they came out, they must’ve hit him like a ton of bricks.

But of course, that damned beskar hid everything.

“It’s hard to be with a man who doesn’t trust me.”

For once, his voice rose. “I trust you more than anyone in the gal-!”

“You almost died because you didn’t trust me enough to let me in! You’d rather die than trust me!”

“That’s not how I-”

“That’s what your actions are telling me, Din. They always do. You never tell me what you’re thinking. I have to guess, but I can’t even read your fucking face. I live my life in question marks because you don’t even give me the option to-”

“You know I can’t show you my face.”

A deep breath left you, shaky and tired. So much pressure had alleviated in your head, like you’d finally emptied the contents of your mind onto a platter before him. And now that you could see it too, heard what you’d said, you felt almost ashamed for it.

Criticising the beskar was too far. That was his way of life, and had nothing to do with how he felt towards you. For sure, it was frustrating sometimes for you didn’t even know what your life partner looked like, but his culture was part of him. And you loved him.

“I know. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-- What are you doing?”

He reached by you to snatch some fabric from a nook, and he folded it into a long strip without so much as a word.

“I’m- I’m trying to apologise-”

“You don’t have to. How can you trust a man you can’t see, right? We’ve been together so long, and you still don’t know who I am.”

You were stunned beneath the guilt that crashed over you. He took your words in so deeply, and fed them back to you plainly. You could see how you must’ve hurt him, with sentiments like this.

Your eyes welled with tears again. Whatever had come over you had clearly wanted to hurt him, but that wasn’t you. Your thoughts were too chaotic to pinpoint, swarmed with hurt and pain that was only now built on by the fact that you’d treated him so terribly. You’d sworn to him long ago that you accepted his Mandalorian binds, loved them even, but you’d let them get in the way with one incident.

“Don’t cry,” he spoke, modulated voice gentle. “I’m- I’m understanding you.” A calloused thumb brushed along your outer lashes to pause any tears that wanted to fall. “Let me help.”

And there was darkness.

He tied his makeshift blindfold behind your head in a loose knot, keeping your eyes in darkness. “Din? What is this?”

He kept quiet, and you heard shifting, something being placed aside.

“Why do you never-”

You cut yourself off when his hands took your wrists and lifted them gently, until your palms splayed on his stubbled cheeks. He gave a long sigh, and you imagined he’d closed his eyes.

Your heart jolted. He was here before you, bare, no helmet. When he spoke, his voice rang out clear and pure, the true timbre of his voice without modulation.

“I said, I trust you more than anyone in the galaxy.” His face moved with his words beneath your touch. “I’d move planets for you.”

He left you breathless. You dove at the chance, fingers tracing over his cheekbones, the bridge of his nose. It stood high and strong, just like you’d always imagined.

“This… This isn’t risky? I didn’t mean to offen-”

“You didn’t offend me. I know it’s hard, I feel it too.” He guided your hands to his lips, and he placed gentle kisses to your fingers.

The lump in your throat welled up again, your nose stinging from the tears that you tried to hold back. The thought of him struggling with his culture simply because he wanted to be close to you. “You do?”

“You know how many times I wanted to take it off? This seems… This is the best way. I’m not breaking any rules.”

You gave a watery, sniffly laugh. “This is the way?”

A hum of humour. “This is the way.”

You let your touch wander over his face, mapping it as well as you could. The curve of his eyelids, the strength of his browbone. He breathed softly, and you could feel the air on your palms as it pushed through.

You wove your fingertips into his hairline, pushing his locks back and bunching them up in your grasp behind his head. It was surprisingly long with unruly waves, and so, so soft.

He leaned in with a sigh until his forehead met yours, hands falling to their home on your waist.

And before you knew it, his lips were on yours. His warm, sweet lips fit perfectly against yours, and your head spun. It was so much, feeling him so close after nearly losing him, arguing with him, and your first kiss in the long years of being his. The first actual kiss.

He was unsure and clumsy in his affection, a little hesitant.

Clearly, this was his first one ever.

You let a hand trail to his jaw, guiding with a gentle touch. He soon settled in, became more confident in his kiss, even if it was still clumsy.

And it was perfect. The determined nibbles to your lips, the soft scratch of his moustache on your upper lip, the way he tugged you closer even as you were pressed against the ladder.

When it finally slowed to a stop, he murmured softly, so much closer than he’d ever been. The sound reached deep inside your mind to soothe your soul and make you crave more of his kiss. “I won’t ever treat you like that again. I’ll give you full disclosure of my missions, every single one. Alright?”

“Alright,” you agreed, breathless and flustered, “On one condition.”

“Hm?” He was clearly lost in this touch, so starved for so long, and it showed in his voice. He was utterly entranced with this new feeling, someone else’s fingers on his skin, words the last thing on his mind.

“We do this more often.”

A low laugh rumbled in his chest, nose nudging on the tip of yours. “Deal.”

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Animal Farm

Male Yandere Farm Harem x Gender Neutral Reader (CW: Noncon, brief mention of cockwarming, brief mention of scenting, cum milking, yandere farm hybrids, detained reader, breeding kink, harpies, bull men, centaurs, dog men, cat men) Word Count: 860 (Was chatting with a friend about how I had a farmer/gardener hat and how I just need overalls, a white bandana, and a pink shirt and I will look like a professional trans monsterfucking rancher, this short fic is the result of that discussion, I hope it will eventually serve as a source of asks in the future. I know it is brief, but I loved writing this.)

(Animal Farm: Mondays, the mini-fic involving the harpies, can be found HERE.) (Animal Farm: Tuesdays, the mini-fic involving the dog-men, can be found HERE.) (Animal Farm: Wednesdays, the mini-fic involving the centaurs, can be found HERE.)

 When you had first taken the leap to add monster ranching to your farm you were unsure if it would be a profitable venture, there were not many such places where you lived, but you did not know if demand would be high for unorthodox products such as monster semen.  You started off with just one centaur, he produced huge quantities of cum from milking him twice a day, and it sold so well that you were soon able to add yet another centaur.  Two was plenty to keep fulfilling the centaur semen needs of your small community so once you had enough funds you invested in three harpy men that laid a ton of eggs, despite being males, and they also produced some extra ball batter for you to peddle as well.  Now you were making money from your usual crops, harpy cum and eggs, which were highly prized, and centaur cum. In almost no time at all you were ready to add yet more monster men to your growing ranch.  Three large bull men now called your little slice of paradise home, their jizz was similar to the centaurs, but the flavor was quite a bit different and used differently in recipes. It also had a slightly different use in folk medicine as well.  Milking and feeding all the monster men on your ranch was hard work but very profitable, but soon you noticed that eggs were being stolen and you eventually caught the culprits drinking from your centaurs early one morning.  Two cat men desperate for food. You adopted them and used them for pest control around the crops and provided them with food and shelter in their own stable. You also added their cum to your product list.  To make sure you did not have any more thieves though, and possibly more dangerous intruders, you got three dog men who patrolled your property in shifts, all they needed to keep them happy were some holes to breed and you, and the cat boys who were constantly in heat, were happy to provide them with a place to dump their seed.  Now you had cat, dog, bird, bull, and horse hybrids on your property as well as many exotic crops which you had learned responded really well to having monster cum mixed into the compost. Your business was BOOMING, it was perfect. The monster men all got along with one another for the most part, and they were all extra sweet to you, the brawny bull hybrids even helped you plant and harvest your fruits and vegetables.  It was a great life, for a while.

 But you grew so many things and sold so much monster cum that you were gone off at the market far too often for your monster’s taste. They convened and decided that the proper place for you was with them, at the farm where you had an entire harem of mighty beast men to look out for you.  After they decide this they confront you when you get back from the market. You try to reason with them but they are all very adamant, you will be their little mate that they kept close and safe and that was simply all there was to it. They could milk themselves and the centaurs and bull men could easily haul the cart to market and one of the cat men could deal with customers because they were so sweet and charismatic.  There was only one problem, who would get to spend time with you?  They made up a strict schedule to avoid any fighting. On Mondays you would spend your time with the harpy men, who greatly enjoyed tweeting and singing to you when they were not busy breeding with you.  On Tuesdays you were property of the dog men, who always left you smelly and covered in their musk and cum.  Wednesdays meant you belonged to the centaurs, they liked to run around with you riding them while wrapping your little human arms around their muscular torsos, and they also adored using you as a cock sleeve, bulging your tummy out as they bred you.  Thursdays you belonged to the felines. They were normally bottoms for the dog men, but they still greatly enjoyed using you as a cumdump. When they finished mating with their beloved human they became the cuddliest of all the hybrids, purring and nuzzling and sleeping all snuggled up with you.  Fridays you were with the three bull men, which meant that you spent damn near the entire day being used as a cock warmer that was swapped between three equally well hung dicks. When they weren't having you sit on them, and oftentimes while they were, they were grooming and licking you, feeding you, and in general babying their sweet owner.  Saturdays and Sundays you were allowed to rest, and you needed it. But you never had anywhere near enough energy to even attempt an escape, and even if you did the dogs would just sniff you out. So you had had to accept your imprisonment at the hands of the monster men you supposedly owned.  

[greenunoreversecard]

Idk if your asks are open, but if they are could I request Alastor with a Teen!Reader that didn't have a lot of support while alive so they clung into him/look up to him?

A Koala and It's Tree ->Platonic! Alastor x Teen reader

Koalas don't tend to leave their home trees. The same can be said for you and Alastor.

You died, a ripe age of 16. Suicide was what it was ruled as, but it wasn't exactly believed by all. Not like the living could ask if you running your car off the highway was on purpose or not.

But the past is the past, torture and turmoil of it all left behind with the life you scorned.

And so you looked forward.

And despite the elusive nature one might assume of hell, you found your people, and like koalas, your home tree.

You found Alastor.

At first, you both hated each other. But, in neigh time you and him became peas in a pod. Mentor y mentè.

He gave you things you've never had, nor experienced. He supported your.. somewhat unorthodox ideas (but who is he to judge) and he took you under his wing in the most trying of times. He cared for you like his own, took you to work, and showed you the ropes hell.

He cared for you, and most of all, he gave you your home. He was your tree (sometimes literally)

--

It was an early morning when rapping at your door awoke you, accompanied by a small static sound you've come to associate with the person closest to your family.

Your door creaks open, and a chipper voice rings out;

"Good morning my dear! Why, it's much to late to still be in bed, up! Come now, we've plenty to do.-"

You groan and roll over, trying to cover your face from the light invading your senses as he opened your curtains.

"Now now, you know we've got ourself a meeting with a few other big shots, and it's best we get going now so we can still get to Rosie's to stop by that bakery she's insisting the cats pajamas-"

You groan again, and roll over and uncover your face.

"Man, no cappa, you sound old as balls. Who says cats pajamas?"

"And who says 'cappa' what in the lords name is a cappa"

You roll your eyes, and stand up, cracking your back. As you do so, alastor hands yoi clothes he's picked out for you to wear. He has a overlord meeting, and you guess by Extension it's now "bring your semi-adopted kid work day".

You go get changed in your bathroom, as well as brush your teeth and hair, and other hygienic processes, before stepping out.

"Ah, looking swell as always my dear! Are you ready?"

You nod, rubbing your eyes sleepily, and link your arm with the one he offered you as you drew closer.

Yeah, you've dealt with shit. But, sometimes, it's all worth it when you finally find your family, or in some cases, your tree. (of a semi adopted father)

--------

A/N: hope this was OK, and hope it was up to par. I tried to go vague ish, but if you wanted more hurt/comfort type stuff you can just lemme know and I'm wiing to make a separate fic. Thank you for requesting, and hope you don't mind I did a little blurb. Lemme know if you had smth else in mind!

Hope it was OK for my first request 👉👈

[entitled-fangirl]

Her saving grace.

Joel Miller x reader

Summary: David captured the reader and Ellie. The reader hopes Joel is out there, searching for them. And he is.

Words: 2,458

Warnings: kidnapping, creepy comments, blood, attempted rape, negative uses of God, creepy ass preacher, guns, talk of cannibalism, lots of angst.

Masterlist <3

.........................................................................

The woman eyes opened slowly, not wanting to adjust to the light in the room.

She was in a cell.

Ellie.

She sits up quickly, her eyes scanning the cell for Ellie. She was there, unconscious on the other side of it. The woman crawled to her, resting her hand on Ellie’s forehead, her finger lightly grazing the cut that resided there.

The door to the room opened, revealing David.

She let out a sharp breath. She remembered. David had kidnapped them.

She hadn’t meant for it to happen. No one truly means to get kidnapped. Her thoughts roll back to Joel, who, for all she knows, is still recovering in the basement of the house they used as refuge. She wasn’t sure how long it had been since they were taken, but odds are, he wouldn’t make it long without them.

David squatted next to her, outside of her barred enclosure. He gave a smile. Perhaps to most, this was a comforting smile. A smile that showed he was of no danger. But she knew better. He was beyond dangerous.

She watched him closely, not saying a word. She wouldn’t let him touch Ellie. And by god, she wouldn’t tell him about Joel. The more she kept hidden away, the safer her little family would be.

He let out a soft sigh, noticing her watchful gaze. “I don’t want to hurt you, ya know?”

She said nothing, continuing her stare before it broke away at the sound of Ellie’s breathing. Her eyes scanned the girl quickly before looking back at David.

He continued, “You care for the girl greatly. I can see that. I know she’s not yours, but I can’t help but wonder…. Is she his?”

Her jaw clenched at the mention of Joel. She feigned innocence. “w….who?”

He chuckled at this. “C’mon, you’re smarter than that, Darling.”

She let out a shaky breath. Hearing the word "darling" come from his mouth made her want to puke. That was Joel’s word for her, and she had always relished in the feeling it gave her to hear it come from his lips. But now, hearing it from David, she would rather the word never be muttered by anyone again.

 She couldn’t help but let her mind wander to thoughts of Joel. She longed to see his face again. The crease in his forehead when Ellie said a cringey joke. The way his hands would run through his hair when he was thinking. The soft sighs that escaped his lips when they ran into situations. Above all, she loved his smile. They were so rare. But when one happened to come across his face, she swore it turned the clouds away.

He was probably dead. His body lying in that basement, cold, probably bleeding out. And she could’ve prevented it. But she was stupid enough to let herself and Ellie get caught. And now, Ellie would never be the cure. And Joel was dead. And it was her fault. She feared Joel would never forgive her, even in the afterlife.

She had known him for a while. They had initially met the day Tess brought him to Bill’s. She was Frank’s beloved niece who had traveled with him, and the two had adopted her in an unorthodox method. They were a happy family together until Frank became sick.

And the day Joel came back through with Ellie was her saving grace. He was her saving grace.

She snapped out of her longing gaze with the feeling of David’s hand caressing her jaw. She jumped slightly, and he smiled more. “What is he to you, girl? If you care about him, you’d give him up freely- for both your sake and theirs.”

She considered his words before going on a limb herself, “Doesn’t matter. He’s dead.”

His grip on her jaw suddenly tightened, bringing her face close to his, the bars being their only separation. “Watch yourself. Thou shalt not lie.”

What did he mean by that? He knew Joel was alive. How did he know Joel was alive? Something must of happened. 

 A shaky breath comes from her lungs, her eyes beginning to spring with tears. She felt stupid, not even being able to hold her tears in. How Joel stayed so calm in stressful situations, she’d never understand.

David’s grip loosened slightly, smiling down at her. “Tsk, tsk. You care for him, don’t you? Well,” his tone changing, “he’ll be no more soon, and I’ll be here to pick up the broken pieces.”

She couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Joel was out there. Somewhere. She just couldn’t read David enough to know if he’d been found or not.

If he hadn’t been found yet, and is currently on the loose, David would need more than a prayer to save him from the older man’s wrath.

There was no use hiding it now, “Where is he, David?”

David’s face lit up at the fact that she really didn’t know anything. He could say anything in the world and she’d have to take it for fact. “Well, Darling, he is going to be dealt with. Publicly. The people need to know killing one another is against God’s law.”

Her eyebrows creased, “So, you’ll kill him?”

He nods. “It’s what God wants.”

The silence engulfs them for a while before he stands up, “I’ll be back later with dinner. Hopefully she’ll be awake,” he mutters, his gaze going to Ellie. 

She says nothing, continuing her stare at the floor in thought. 

He stood for a few moments, simply admiring her. For someone so lost, she was so pretty. As if God had answered all of his prayers together.

He left without another word.

….

She had fallen asleep at some point, waking up to the sound of a yelp.

Ellie stood at the doors of the cell, an angry look on her face.

David slowly sank down in pain.

The woman sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes to understand what was happening. Whatever was happening in front of her was not friendly fire.

David grabbed Ellie’s head knocking it against the bars.

She stood quickly, grabbing Ellie and pulling her to her chest, cradling her head. They both stared at David with a look that would kill.

He cradled his hand, panting. “You little cunt.”

She let out a deep breath, unsure of what to do about the conflict. She felt Ellie reach her hand up to her own face, her finger pulling back blood.

“Let’s see what I go tell the others now.”

And with that, David turned to leave.

“…Ellie…”

He turned back around. “What?”

“Tell them that Ellie is the little girl who broke your FUCKING. FINGER!”

His gaze turned to stone. “How did you put it?” He asked. “...tiny little pieces?” And he left.

Ellie began to weep in her hold. The woman shushed her calmly and let her cry until she fell asleep again.

She didn’t need to know all the pieces of the puzzle, but just what she saw of their interaction told her far too much. 

She prayed Joel was someone out there.

And by god, he was.

….

David and Troy entered the room, the woman’s head perking up at the sound. Ellie’s head rested in her lap, the woman’s fingers running through the poor girl’s hair as she slept.

As odd as it sounded for their situation, it was quite comforting. She had never considered being a mother. Especially not now. But, with Ellie, she started to understand and appreciate Bill and Frank’s sacrifices for her all the more.

David unlocked the door of the cell, and both men entered. She pulled Ellie into her arms to protect her, as if the poor woman would be able to do so. 

“What… what are you…,” her voice soft and scared, “what are you doing?”

Ellie began to awaken at this, quickly realizing the situation. She stood. Troy quickly grabbed her waist to keep her from running. A scream broke out from the girl’s lungs as she tried to fight him.

The woman was not too far behind her. David’s hand reached out, grabbing her wrist. The one fault she had always hated of herself: she was all flight. Never fight. She envied Joel and Ellie for that often.

David quickly overpowered the woman, dragging her off to the sound of Ellie’s screams.

He pulled her into another room, this one slightly cleaner than the other, but not much. His arm was still around the woman’s waist, his other hand grabbing her wrist to keep her from what small muster of fight she did have left in her. His chest was a firm plank keeping her back against him.

She began to still, realizing that she could do nothing to stop the preacher from ruining her one chance at a happy ending.

She could scare him though.

Her voice was low. Scarily so. 

“If he finds you, he’ll be merciless.”

He felt him smile against her neck, an unwelcoming feeling. “I’ll just have to keep him from finding you.”

Her blood ran cold. Her body became stiff, truly unsure of what to do. Perhaps they were both bluffing, and Joel was dead. 

Or maybe he was out there, hunting for David like a shark that smelled blood for the first time.

A kiss to her neck brought her from her thoughts again. David began kissing up to neck to her jaw. She did nothing but breathe in a shaky pattern.

She was letting this happen. 

Her mind was screaming. Screaming, not to let him touch her. To not touch Ellie. To not touch Joel. 

But instead she stood there, emotionless.

He pulled her body to the ground with his, the horrid kissing of her neck continuing.

The one thing she did do, was cry. Hot tears flooded her eyes and she began to sob.

She remembered the first time Joel had seen her cry.

Frank was becoming too ill to do things on his own. It scared her. One of the visits from Joel resulted in her breaking down in front of him, telling him her every fear of what would happen to her beloved uncle.

And she remembers the feeling of Joel’s arms around her, comforting her. His scruff tickling her ear as he whispered calming words to her.

And he hadn’t seen her cry since.

But here she was, on the ground in tears. David’s body hovered over hers and she did nothing but accept it for fear of what would happen if she didn’t.

His hand ran down her stomach, towards the top of her pants. He began to unbutton her jeans, sliding the zipper down with ease. David noticed her tears, and he smiled. He leaned his head down to whisper in her ear.

“Don’t worry, Darling. I’ll make it all go away.”

A new voice echoed through the room.

“No, you fucking won’t.”

A shot fired.

Blood covered her face.

David’s body fell against hers, lifeless.

Joel stood in the doorway of the room, his shotgun held out, the barrel still smoking. Ellie stood behind him, her face had a few more cuts than before, but her eyes held a look of relief.

He threw the gun to Ellie quickly before moving towards the two bodies on the ground. He grabbed David’s body, practically throwing it to the side as if it weighed nothing. Like you would throw a trash bag into a dumpster.

He now focused on the body that was under it. Hers.

She laid there, her hands covering her face and she weeped harder than she ever had before. And it broke his spirit.

He kneeled down to her. As much as he wanted to comfort her, he knew injuries came first. His eyes scanned her, but he couldn’t tell if any of the blood on her was actually hers. He’d just have to ask.

“Darlin'?” His voice called softly.

She continued to weep, one hand covering her mouth, the other moving up towards her forehead to her hairline. He knew it was irrational to ask her these questions, but his brain had gone into overdrive. 

He needed to know she was okay.

“Hey,” he called again, his tone slightly harsher to get her attention, “Darlin’?”

He hated watching as her tears mixed with the blood staining her perfect face.

If he could revive the man, he would- just to torture him slowly until he begged for forgiveness. But he wouldn’t make him beg Joel for forgiveness. No. He would make the preacher beg her for forgiveness. Because Joel would never give it to him.

Joel sighed, his patience running thin, wanting to be away from the town before anyone noticed. He grabbed her waist with one hand, trying to anchor her. “Hey,” he said with a stern tone.

He had never seen a reaction like this from her before. Her voice broken and begging, “Please…don’t… I… please… stop… stop…”

Joel froze. As if his hatred for the dead man could grow anymore. She didn’t recognize Joel’s touch. Her only thought was on survival. And his heart began to beat faster knowing this was all she could do as her method to survive. Beg.

He retracted his hand quickly, going for a different approach. His hand reached up to cradle her back of her head like it did that day at Bill’s. He pulled her head up, meeting it to his forehead.

“Shh… things are going to be alright… I gotchu, Darlin’.”

He tried to remember what he said that day to her. Until he remembered.

“...I gotcha. And I won’t let you go… I won’t let you go.”

They sat there a while, letting her finish her tears. Her breathing stilled, and she began to come to. “J…Joel?”

He pulled back, opening his eyes to meet hers. “Hi, Darlin’.”

Her arms move around his neck in instinct, her head pushed into the crease between his neck and shoulder. One arm of his circled her waist, the other moving to the back of her head, caressing her.

She pulled back in realization. “You killed him.”

He nods.

Her head disappears against his chest again, her voice muffled, “Thank you.”

He let out a light chuckle. He moved his voice down to her ear. “Maybe it’s what God wanted,” he said, using the preacher’s words against him.

She laughed against his strong chest.

Ellie moved from the doorway. “We need to go.”

Joel nods. “Think you can walk for me, Darlin’?”

She lets out a breath, nodding.

He helps her stand, his arm circling her waist to support her. 

As they trekked through the snow, her body practically swallowed by his warm coat, he leaned down to whisper to her again.

“I gotcha. And I won’t let you go.”

.........................................................................

[chaosandmarigolds]

can we have more of ghost and his adopted daughters? 👀

(this has been so requested!!! Aah!! here we go, it's short but sweet, hope you like it!)

AdoptedDad! Simon, who never was in the habit of wearing anything beside a medical mask when home and safe but always doubled checked before he walked inside now

Simon who is certain his money is endless when it comes to new clothes, toiletries, and really anything that didn't fall under the 'toy' category

Simon who smiles when Macey comes out of the dressing room griping about the jeans she tried on are uncomfortable, so he finds her a pair of jeggings

Simon who did tell Johnny but in a...unorthodox way

"Ey, I'm outside."

"Gotchit, lemme grab my wallet."

two minutes later and Johnny climbs into the passenger seat of the car, the silence screeching until Taylor chipped up from her car seat, "hi, dere."

If Johnny could be a deer in headlights, it would be that moment, looking between Simon and the two year old for s few moments before narrowing his gaze, "Babysittin?"

Instead of replying to Johnny, he looked to Taylor through the rearview mirror, "Princess this is Johnny, he's my brother."

(Johnny then forgets about the little girl and starts going on a tangent about how they better be brothers at this point because how dare Simon try to lessen his status to anything but-)

Simon who learned how to play football (soccer) for Macey because she loved the sport

"OOOOOH ANOTHER ONE FOR M-A-C-E-Y. that all you got old man?"

Simon who did think of himself as they're father since the first day blood or not

Simon who says Macey and 'Uncle Soap' (he doesn't know how that got out there) need to be responsible and not tear up the garden beds when they're wrestling

Simon who is so careful with hugs because he is aware of his strength

Simon who is careful with his words and how he uses them, he's careful to talk about money around them, he's careful

Simon who picks up Macey from school, confused on why a thirteen year old would want their 'dad' to be front and center to pick them up

Macey, who never had a foster dad, or real one, who was willing to pick her up from school, always on time, always with a cold cola sitting in the cup holder on her side

Simon who carries Taylor on his shoulders on outings so she can see

Simon who can hold Macey up on one shoulder but just give him a minute to get his footing-

Simon who would rather die than give his girls up

(annnnyway, that's it! I love comments, feedback and hearing y'all's ideas! <33)

[ao3sbatfamily]

'An Unorthodox Adoption' by Ellegrine

“You take responsibility for your actions!”

The tiny stalker glares and says, “I don’t have to! I’m not the oldest brother!”

“What?” 

“If you let me get hurt, I’m telling Batman on you!” the brat says, pointing right between Jason’s eyes.

Jason has to cross his eyes to see the pudgy finger; it makes everything go blurry. What … what is happening?! How is this his life?!

“You want me to be your brother?” Jason asks in a daze. 

“You are my brother!” the kid yells with the fierceness of a lion cub.

[weirdsht]

Disillusioned 5 . As I Know It

tags: reader has never experienced the warmth of love, abuse as the norm, hints of anxiety and trauma, short chapter

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are currently closed but my ask are still open (read navi)

Buy Me Dessert

Navigation Masterlist prev . next

Weird

If _____ is asked to describe Cale’s group that’s the word they would use.

From their strength to how they act, _____ finds all of them weird.

But it’s not just the individuals in this group that the healer finds weird. It’s the group itself.

Everyone acts so weirdly.

Maybe it’s because they aren’t family but the dynamics here are so different from what _____ is used to.

However, that’s not it either.

Even without it being said, the Medicus could tell that the way the group sees one another is like family. Blood-related or not, with official adoption papers or none; with or without those things _____ can see that the way everyone cares for each other transcends any friendship or servant-master relationship.

Proof and documentation were trivial to such a group because their bond transcends it all.

Whether _____ is part of that extraordinary bond is something they choose not to ponder about.

They feel as though they don’t need to know. Do they fear that the truth might hurt? A little. But it’s mostly because they don’t want to get attached. Because their kindness is already so addicting, what more if _____ allows themself to indulge further and act as though they have a place in the group’s family-esc dynamics.

So they try to settle by acting as an outsider.

Try to be content that they can even see such amazing things.

However, sometimes greed takes over.

Moments like when the kids are playing a prank on Choi Han or everyone doting on Cale. Moments like that make _____ want to join in.

And sometimes they do.

As soon as they do they regret it. The fear of getting attached only to be thrown away eats them alive. The fear of the possibility that one day the group will wake up and realize that _____ is only a liability makes them fear the group’s kindness.

They feel as though they are a naive month trying hard to not be drawn by the flame.

Nonetheless, despite all their walls, everyone is still kind.

But that’s what makes them all the more weird.

They see one another as a family but don’t act like one.

Well in _____’s opinion at least.

From what _____ has learned in their almost 18 years of living, a family doesn’t let anyone make mistakes. Family must discipline each other.

Well, they do…

But why are they so gentle?

Why is the worst punishment being deprived of their favourite things?

Why are there no physical punishments?

Do they care less than _____ thought?

Or perhaps are they not aware that you need physical punishment to get your point across?

_____’s family has always told them that without physical punishment, they would not learn. It’s the way a family, especially parents, shows love. The moment they stop punishing you for your mistakes, you know your family doesn’t love you anymore.

_____ can’t understand the weirdness of it all.

They care for each other but show unorthodox ways of showing it.

They discipline one another but in a way _____ does not understand.

They teach the kids to be frugal by giving them an allowance but still spoil them.

They want everyone to be independent and strong, well maybe except for Cale, but they don’t leave them in a desolate place for a week to teach them how to fend for themselves.

They want to know that they care for others but won’t blatantly list all of the good things they have done for the group.

_____ can’t understand all of it.

The way this group acts is the opposite of how the healer has been taught. The way they show care is different from what _____ has experienced. This group is something the Medicus has neither seen nor experienced.

Oh wait…

_____ has seen it before.

They’ve read it in fairy tale books.

Tales of different people coming together and building a family where the foundation is love, trust, compassion, and care. Tales of where your blood relation or abilities don’t matter in creating a family.

Tales of where someone will love you unconditionally because you’re you.

And that’s so weird

Because at the end of the day, that’s all those things are, fairy tales.

They are something that is not possible in real life.

Something that is written to help broaden a curious child’s imagination and vocabulary.

Something to put children to sleep.

Something that you forget as you grow older because reality hits you that family is crueller than those flowery words written in children’s books.

But despite everything. Despite the unorthodox ways Cale’s group acts and all the norms they break.

_____ can’t deny that they enjoy this weirdness.

Maybe in the end, _____ is the weird one.

[milliebobbyflay]

Okay so I've spent a while thinking about how to word my actual problem with homestuck 2, and the works that make up post-canon homestuck more broadly. I think a lot of people resort to nitpicking bits of awkward writing or art in some attempt to pinpoint a source to an underlying sort of hollow uncanniness, which is funny because homestuck's supposed golden age of acts 1-5 are themselves FAR more of a tonally inconsistent mess of odd character beats, jokes that don't always land, and janky looking art.

Homestuck 2 has been written and drawn by very talented and passionate artists from the beginning, I think the actual issue comes down to a mix between the general pitfalls of hiring fans and the particulars of hussie's outsider background and unorthodox writing style.

First is the issue of hiring fans in general; while it can seem like an easy shortcut to finding talented writers already familiar with the voice and story of the original work, you have to be very aware of how fan culture operates. Beyond the obvious pitfalls that fans are unlikely to approach the story from a detached perspective, there is the larger issue that past a certain point fandom becomes essentially self sustaining. Once a fandom has existed for a long enough period, its most avid members have likely spent FAR more time engaging with other fan works than they have with the original art object. Fandom and the art it produces are, in this way, a sort of a folk tradition; artists are imitating and responding to other artists, characters become archetypes through which to explore certain ideas and dynamics, and the values and tastes of the most prolific and influential fan artists become as inseparable from a participants mental image of the character as the original work itself.

For an example, the affected theatrical mannerisms and cruelty Vriska adopts while in her Mindfang persona have become inseparable from the popular view of the character. Despite the fact that it's heavily signposted as a sort of role playing performance from the jump and she's more or less dropped it by the back half of the comic, it was nevertheless how she had acted in the bulk of her scenes around the time the ur-texts of homestuck fandom were being written, and as so an understandable misread of a character became inscribed into the fandom canon, and by extension her characterization in Homestuck 2.

All of this is extrapolated by the sort of unorthdox, building-the-plane-while-flying-it manner in which Hussie's writing style developed.

Based on his commentary, I get the sense that Andrew is an incredibly clever and thoughtful writer who lacks the theory and vocabulary to precisely describe his process. He tends to communicate in sort of abstract metaphors which aim to bridge the gap in explaining the actual conscious process he uses to plot his stories, but the way he talks about technical nuts and bolts writing craft stuff gives me the impression that his approach is largely intuitive, bordering on unconscious. He's a lot better at describing how he writes than what he writes or why.

You can of course piece a lot this together—his approach to art draws from the tradition of videogame spritework, where the visuals exist as a utilitarian vehicle for conveying information first and a work of illustration only inasmuch is needed to serve the greater story. His character writing draws more from a synthesis of literary fiction, sitcom writing, and "making up a guy" style posting humor, where characters are defined more by their life experiences and underlying psychology than by their goals and values, but also seem to have largely been constructed backwards from a starting point of a funny or interesting manner of speaking. Importantly though, I don't get the sense that these were conscious decisions, just that to Hussie they seemed like the logical way to approach these tasks, and I don't really think he could outline them in a way that would actually help a new team of creators grok how to draw and write in a way that feels like homestuck. I also don't think Hussie could actually explain the psychology that undergirds his character writing, I think he was mostly just drawing on his own life experience and imagining how this sort of character might logically speak and act.

As a novelist, and Hussie is one, both your thought processes and the sum total of your worldview and life experience are just as important to your work as the actual conscious decisions you're making, and I think that where there are gaps in understanding, the new writers are filling in the gaps with both a more conventional approach to the creative process and over a decade of accumulated fanon, and I think that's why homestuck 2 never really rises above feeling like a very well-made fanfic to me?

[momojedi]

Headcanon: Being Shaak Ti’s padawan would include …

Type: Headcanons; GN! Reader Character(s): Shaak Ti, 501st, 212th, Wolfpack, Bad Batch, Omega, Clones in general Notes: I like the concept of a story as Shaak Ti’s padawan, I was thinking about writing a reader-insert about it. Would you be interested?

Despite her reputation as an admirable Jedi Master, Shaak Ti’s views on attachments would probably be anything but respected by the Council.

Shaak Ti gets motherly feelings just by looking at the Cadets or Omega, so you better be ready because once this woman sets her eyes on her new padawan, your fate will pretty much sealed as her newly adopted child.

Whatever you accomplish, whether it may be small such as motivating yourself to get out of bed or teaching a cadet a trick up to striking down a clanker or saving a clone's life, she’ll be the proudest Togruta in the entire universe.

The clones? They adore you. Shaak Ti is the most respected Jedi among Kamino, maybe even the most adored person among the clones there overall. The troopers admire her treatment and kindness, seeing a parental figure in her, a mother they never had the chance to know. Whomever she likes must be just as lovable then!

As Shaak Ti's padawan, all of Tipoca City knows your name by now. Wherever you go, you'll be greeted by the troopers with a bright smile and once they stop at Kamino after a mission, you'll be one of the few things they'll look forward to.

By now, you can pretty much distinguish all legions for their own unique charisma and cooperation among each other.

The 501st is cheerful and humorous; despite their clumsy and chaotic temper, they work together flawlessly. You'll be swarmed with stories, jokes and even some flirtatious attempts on Jesse's & Fives' account, physical love language such as hugs and handshakes, pretty much treated like one of their own. The Domino Squad especially appreciate you, being one of the very first squads you'd had the chance to accompany. Captain Rex will not even dare to leave your side; he says it’s because he doesn’t want his brothers to overwhelm you but really, he just adores you just as much and feels a kind of safety being close to you.

The 212th on the other is a lot calmer and neat, greeting you politely like they would any commander, but with a warm, grateful undertone. Some, like Waxer and Boil, will even bring you something from their missions, little objects and snacks they found. You’ll have Cody sitting with you during lunch and exchange with him about what you’ve experienced while he was away while he tells you all about the silly moments he witnessed with General Kenobi.

The Wolfpack are like a pack of puppies seeing the master again. The second they see you, they will forget everything around them, all attention now on you, whimpering and whining until they’re dismissed by Wolffe and allowed greet you. Speaking of our favourite commander, he will stand quietly and wordlessly beside you like a guard dog, waiting until the coast is clear to let his guard down and warmly greet you himself.

When it comes to the more unique clone forces, such as the Bad Batch, they’ll likely be able to spend more time with you once they’re on Kamino simply because they’re so small in number. The moment the Marauder lands and the four troopers are off the shuttle, you’ll be squeezed in a tight hug by Wrecker as soon as he gets the chance to. Due to their unique nature and different way of life, the connection you’ll have formed to them will be much more personal and likely seen as mostly unorthodox but that doesn’t matter to them, nor to you or Shaak Ti. Surprisingly enough, sometimes you can even see the ghost of a smile flickering on Crosshair’s face when you approach him after their return from another tough mission. And that means something!

The time between helping out Shaak Ti with the clones’ training and supervising the cadets is usually spent with none other than Omega, Nala Se’s apprentice, who, just like you, tends to feel a bit out of place among all the troopers so it’s nice to exchange with someone who feels similarly every now and then. She sees you as a big sibling, someone she can trust her emotions with and you sincerely return those very feelings.

Seeing you interact so well and kindly with all the clones leaves your master’s heart swelling with joy. She really couldn’t ask for a better student.

[kuroneko1815]

The maze scene but make it silly and with innuendos

Because I always make fun of Callisto being the one to instigate the silly, I want Penelope to do it this time. This came about after re-reading that scene when they first meet and I thought… what could she say differently that was just so silly. With help from @eloise175, also… we really shouldn’t be left alone together.

Callisto holding a sword to Penelope’s throat looking menacing and mocking: Why do you love me? Go on, tell me why you fell in love with me?

Penelope: Because you’re shiny!

Callisto freezes in shock: Shiny? (He’s been called many things, most of them weren’t good but never shiny!)

Penelope thinking back to her reputation: I like shiny things and your hair looks like spun gold and your eyes look like rubies.

Callisto: ??? (Just stares at her, sword steady and level as he tries to process what happened.)

Penelope internally: Oh thank god, I can escape now. (Tries to back away subtly but is foiled.)

Callisto: What else?

Penelope thinks back to all the stereotypical western teenagers and in Korea from her world and time, all those things she studied to fit in with her new classmates at university: You’re hot.

Callisto: I’m what?

Penelope: You have a handsome face and probably a fine body under those clothes from all the training you do. It makes me drool just thinking about it and I want jump you. (Penelope in her mind: maybe I should just die, it would be better if he killed me now.)

Callisto: … (Callisto.exe has crashed; please reboot)

Callisto tries to save face: It seems more like you’re in lust with me, rather than in love.

Penelope: Is there a difference right now? I haven’t talked to you, and I’ve only seen you in passing. Love and lust are the same right now.

Penelope: Also, your voice is fine and smooth like butter.

Callisto: I don’t understand?

Penelope: It means I like your voice, it’s nice and seductive. (Penelope eyes possible exists and just keeps saying things without thinking them through.)

Penelope: You’re such a babygirl

Callisto: Did you just call me a babygirl? (Now he does feel some indignation)

Penelope: Yes I did, you know, you’re so good looking I just wanna take care of you. You’re so scrunkly.

Callisto: What does that even mean? I think you’re just making up words.

Penelope: Scrunkly, an animal or creature that’s weird or unorthodox but still so cute.

Callisto: Did you just… just call me an animal?

Penelope: Well, if you’re an animal, I think mating season has come. (Penelope is dead, very dead. She can feel her soul leaving her body with each word she says and yet she can’t stop. Still, she’s resorted to dropping innuendos in hopes that he’d be so weirded out that he’d walk away without killing her.)

Callisto is shook. He knows the adopted daughter of Eckhart was crazy but not this crazy or wanton… and yet… it was appealing and exciting.

Penelope gestures to his pants: Well, I don’t much care for the sword at my neck, but you can definitely pierce me with the one down there any time. Think of me like something to conquer. (Abort, abort, abort. She thinks desperately. Shut up.)

Despite her wishes, her mouth keeps moving, and not towards rationality, it just prolongs her torture. Death by beheading wasn’t so bad, at least she’d stop talking.

Penelope: If someone asked me what I wanted for dinner, it’s you. I’m so hungry, I want a taste.

Callisto eyes her in shock. These were not words that should be coming out of a Lady’s mouth, he didn’t think he’d ever heard phrases come out of anyone’s mouth before. It was bawdy without actually being too vulgar. He wants to be offended, he really does, but…

Penelope: Please? I’m thirsty, can I have a sip? Just a sip, please? I promise I don’t bite… much. (Penelope internally: Can I turn on that damned game system now? Please?)

Penelope: If we got stuck in a closet, one of us would be walking out pregnant, and it wouldn’t be me.

Eventually, Callisto lets her go, too surprised and shook to actually process everything, especially the last part because that wasn’t possible at all, unless she was a powerful mage. And Penelope leaves no worse for wear, except her dignity, that died a traitor’s death.

-

-

BONUS: The Cave Scene: Or Callisto gives his rebuttals because you can damn well know that he’s not letting this go and it’ll live rent free in his mind. And she’s avoided him when he tried to press her for more coherent answers, had even neglected to reply to him.

Penelope waking up in the cave: GAHH!!! Why are you naked? (Covers her eyes)

Callisto: Why are you covering you’re eyes? You wanted to see what was under my clothes anyway, and I hope it doesn’t disappoint. You certainly didn't.

Penelope: You… you shameless pervert.

Callisto: Oh? I'm the pervert now? What happened to the audacious woman who kept saying such filthy things to me to seduce me?

Penelope stares at him with a look of disbelief.

Callisto: Oh? How could you be so cold to me? Aren’t I scrunkly? Aren’t I your babygirl?

Penelope: … I'm going back to sleep.

Penelope can't actually sleep and keeps having flashbacks to it, Callisto hugs her, and tells her the story. And the conversation proceeds the same. Except instead of asking her what she liked about him…

Callisto: So, is your assessment correct, Princess?

Penelope: What?

Callisto: Is my body as 'fine' as you thought? Am I really that hot?

Penelope without thinking: Yes (Realizes what she said and blushes and buries her face into his chest and then almost dies of embarrassment when she realizes what she just did)

Callisto: It certainly seems like it based on how you're reacting.

Penelope: …

Callisto: My sword is ready for the piercing and the conquests.

Penelope bites her lips unable to say anything because he’s responding to everything she’s saying. She realized he’s pulled the ultimate reverse uno on her, and weeks after the fact too.

Callisto: Are you hungry? We can have a small snack if you want. But why stop at a sip and a taste? Let’s make this into a full meal!

Penelope: …

Callisto: Perhaps my voice alone can get you ready, we’d need to mop up after we’ve spilled our drinks.

Penelope admits to herself that he does have an amazing voice. But she’s still refusing the temptation. She wants to live thank you very much.

Callisto: We’re both still overdressed it seems. We really need to read the invitations carefully. This cave has a zero clothing policy.

Penelope tries to shut him up, when he stops her from slapping him, she kisses him which was the wrong move, or maybe it was the right one? Because it eventually devolved.

Callisto when they finally stopped: Respectfully, Emperor Claudius himself couldn’t pull me out of you. (Callisto thinks of his famous ancestor, an accomplished general, who had a story about a sword in a stone who won the throne over his half brother.)

In the aftermath, Penelope would wake up in a tangle of limbs, naked, and very well ‘conquered’ by the Crown Prince. She also gets to live, survives the game and all. And… exactly nine months after that night, a little dragon like girl was born to them. They named her Judith.

But Callisto, the new Emperor had one last thing to say to his wife as they hold their new born later not even minutes after she’s handed to them: Well, it wasn’t exactly locked in a closet, but I wasn’t the one who walked out of there pregnant.

Penelope smiles sweetly at him, motions for him to come closer so she can kiss him. He leans forward eagerly, closes his eyes. Penelope taking advantage of it, shifts Judith in one hand and slaps him hard.

[rwac96]

G-Clone Project: Gojera/Godzerra (April Fools)

Subject # 4: Humanoid Kaiju/G-Cell endowed atomic mutant/ "Kaiju Girl"

(image by Witchking00)

HEIGHT: 80 Meters

LENGTH: 180 Meters

MASS: 50,000 Metric Tons

Based on a project suggestion by roboticist Dr. Hideo Shida, creator of the 'RoboMusume' anti-Kaiju weapon during his last days before his passing. In the aftermath of Godzilla's (II) rampage throughout Tokyo, not only the city was doused in radiation but the Monster King left behind samples of its body. "G-Cells", christened by Dr. Genichiro Shiragami, are a rare and dangerous commodity sought after by multiple governments, organizations, and special interest groups all over the world. After witnessing footage of Godzilla's battles against other Kaiju such as Biollante, Ghidorah, and Spacegodzilla; Shida suggested a Kaiju-sized humanoid made from bioengineering. The UNGCC Council was hesitant, remembering the doctor's unorthodox "Bride of Godzilla" mech, how it violated Japan's anti-nuclear weapons policy, and the near-disaster that would've destabilized both the Earth and Hollow Earth if it weren't for RoboMusume's peculiar self-sacrifice. To bring legitimacy to his idea, Shida explained that the subject would have the might and power of Godzilla, but with the mind of a human being.

Miki Segusa spoke up about her concerns over this idea since she advocated for Godzilla to be left in peace ever since he adopted a juvenile Godzillasaurus and the plans of Mechagodzilla, MOGUERA, and Project T failed. Not to mention this was three months after Spacegodzilla's attempted conquest of Earth, a Kaiju-sized human being made those of the G-Countermeasures council uneasy. But Shida replied the possibility of this supposed soldier being an ideal improvement over Mechagodzilla as a defender of Japan and a deterrent to Godzilla. Days after this meeting, select bioengineering scientists began with the 'G-Cell Project', moving their resources to France.

By 1996, Shida had passed away due to old age, and it seemed UNGCC was on the verge of pulling the project's funding. That was until the Baas Island explosion and Godzilla's emergence as "Burning Godzilla", a nuclear meltdown that would've destroyed the world. The G-Cell team found themselves free of oversight during the crisis, as the appearance of Destoroyah heightened the danger. But, the crisis has passed with Destoroyah's rampage stopped and G-Force minimizing the damage as Godzilla perished. But, his leftover radiation transferred to the supposedly deceased Godzilla Junior revitalizing him and maturing him into a new Godzilla (III). With the future uncertain, a breakthrough was made with the G-Cells, the project was renamed the 'G-Clone Project'.

The New Godzilla lacked its father's hostility to humans but, the UNGCC wasn't going to take any chances, as they heard reports of another Godzilla battling an extraterrestrial known as the 'Gryphon' in the United States, unaware that it was what Monarch classified as 'Titanus Gojira'. Then, the monster known as 'Zilla' escaped its holding cell in France and rampaged in 1998, causing complications for every government involved. Many questions surrounded the Kaiju's appearance, as the French contingent of the project had gone rogue. Fearing that their pet project, 'Gojera', would be discovered, they ejected a large egg onto an island that had leftover nuclear radiation from atomic bomb tests in the 1950s. The egg laid dormant for months, until it hatched, revealing an abnormally large infant girl...with dorsal spines eerily similar to Godzilla. The infant fed on the radiation, having an accelerant growth similar to Godzilla (III) until she reached maturity in 2003.

Unfortunately, like Zilla, Gojera, or as Westerners would refer to Subject #4 as 'Godzerra', escaped containment and made landfall upon the coast of Japan, much to the surprise of everyone involved in the battle and witnessed it. Though she slightly resembled a human being, she had the ferocity and aggressive demeanor of any Godzilla, what made it worse was the young woman's genuine malice and enjoyment of the destruction she wrought. It was evident that communication with Godzerra would be unwise, as she seemed to revel in violence. Luckily, the UNGCC had created another anti-Godzilla weapon, launching Kiryu against the Kaiju Girl. Though it turned the tides in humanity's favor, it was clear that something about the mech set her off. As things seemed to be in G-Force's favor, Godzerra bellowed a defiant roar, making Kiryu pause. Seeing the mech's eyes turn from orange to red, she looked down at the gathered soldiers with an eerie smile, as if she knew what would happen next and turned back to the sea.

"Reap what you sow."

-A scientist translated from the Shobijin when Godzerra 'spoke'.

In horrifying reality, Kiryu was built around the skeleton of the 1954 Godzilla that attacked Japan and was killed by the Oxygen Destroyer. Some blamed a technical malfunction, others claimed that the Kaiju Girl's roar influenced the mech, and the Shobijin claimed that the spirit of Godzilla (I) lived within the bones. Overall, the latest anti-Godzilla weapon ironically caused more harm than Godzerra. After Kiryu ran out of power and was escorted back to G-Force, the UNGCC faced intense backlash internationally. Dr. Ishiro Serizawa of Monarch demanded answers, for both the explanation revolving around Kiryu's existence and Godzerra, the latter being verily outside of the Natural Order Monarch had studied for years. Many bioengineer scientists and researchers were questioned, as they could face jail time. Unfortunately, Godzerra resurfaced in Tokyo Bay, demolishing G-Force forces. As the Kaiju Girl marched closer and closer to the city center, the UNGCC Council and the Prime Minister had no choice but to launch Kiryu, believing whatever caused its malfunction was fixed.

The latest Mechagodzilla encountered the Kaiju Girl, resulting in an intense battle, appearing equally matched. Despite Godzerra's mixture of brute strength and human-like strategy, Kiryu gained the upper hand, wounding the atomic mutant with the Absolute Zero Cannon. While it failed to kill Godzerra, Kiryu did expel her, meaning humanity finally had a sure means of fighting back against any Kaiju. But, one year after the battle, Mothra returned to Earth, the Shobijin warning that the first Godzilla's bones must return to the sea for it was blasphemous to use them as a weapon. Takaaki Aso, former G-Force commander and the Prime Minister at the time, stated that too many resources had been sunk to scrap the project now. But, the Shobijin ensured that Mothra would defeat the atomic clone, despite Aso's doubts and remembering the 1992 battle against Godzilla (II) that claimed Battra's life. Soon, Godzerra returned to Tokyo, heading for Kiryu's hangar but was intercepted by Mothra. But, due to her time in space, the divine moth had reached old age; making her outmatched against the Kaiju Girl.

Unwilling to let Mothra fight alone, the G-Countermeasures Council ordered Kiryu's deployment; while Miki Segusa used her telepathy to contact Godzilla (III), fearing the situation's escalation. Despite being outnumbered, Godzerra proved to be a match for both the mech and the moth. Until Godzilla's arrival, who was curious about this being before engaging in combat. Despite the Monster King's strength and power, the Kaiju Girl lived up to G-Clone's original aspiration of creating a being to best their primary foe. Before she would kill the King of The Monsters, Mothra used the last of her strength to take the Atomic Breath for Junior, being set ablaze and exploding. Enraged at his 'sister's' callous reaction to the Guardian Kaiju's death, the saurian gained a second wind and the battle turned in his favor.

As the battle dragged on due to Godzilla's determination to avenge Mothra, G-Force units with Kiryu Mechanic Yoshito Chujo charged into the battlefield to repair the mech. With repairs completed, the Mechagodzilla joined Junior in the fight, turning an even battle to the favor of Earth's Defenders. But, Godzerra, revealing with cruelty, unleashed her own Atomic Pulse, unleashing Spiral Blasts upon Godzilla. Hearing the current Monster King's pained cries, the first King of the Monsters' spirit awakened within Kiryu, blasting the Kaiju Girl away. Unwilling to see such carnage between members of his species, despite the mutant's unnatural origins, Kiryu grabbed Godzerra and flew out to sea, sinking the two monsters in the Japan Trench.

The battle was finished but was declared a hollow, pyrrhic victory, with Tokyo in ruins once more, Mothra dead and Godzilla barely returning to the sea before collapsing due to his injuries, going into a healing hibernation. Finally seeing his grudge against Godzilla as folly, Aso ordered the Kiryu project to be officially scrapped and funding to G-Force cut in half. Since then, the UNGCC and G-Force are now a shadow of their glory days in the '90s and 2000s. However, the G-Clone Project secretly holds the DNA of multiple monsters, including Godzilla, to create more clones in case other Kaiju emerge. As for Godzerra, it took years for her to break Kiryu's grip, re-emerging in 2016, months after the rampage of 'Shin'. Godzerra had taken up residence on the mysterious 'Monster Island', isolating herself from the other Kaiju. Declaring the rather empty title of 'Queen of the Mutants'.

[marnieorange]

hi again! i was the anon who sent whether you're taking jnh requests and i'm so happy to see fics for the novel!

may i request some hc's with jekyll and hyde falling in love with the same person, who — by chance, is actually both friends with them (jekyll's colleague, hyde's buddy during his night outs) but that person is unaware they're one 🫶🏻 take care!

𝐉𝐞𝐤𝐲𝐥𝐥 & 𝐇𝐲𝐝𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧.

————————————————————————————

Notes; Middle image was just pretty! There was no gender specified in the request, so I took it as gender neutral. :)

————————————————————————————

𝐇𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐲 𝐉𝐞𝐤𝐲𝐥𝐥

𖤓 Meeting him was easy enough. You worked at the royal society, and they often needed to cross check work and theories, just to make sure it was all correct before publishing.

𖤓 It was Henry's work that you were checking one evening, and everything seemed to be correct, other than one detail.

𖤓 You had to tell him, of course. This one thing could make everything else seem... lazy!

𖤓 After correcting him in person, his work passed reviews and managed to get published.

𖤓 ... And after correcting him in person, you two became good friends.

𖤓 One thing led to another, and soon enough you found yourself at dinner parties with Utterson and Lanyon, as well as other colleagues and associates.

𖤓 What can you do? Henry is a sociable man, after all.

𖤓 After a year or two of knowing each other, you and Henry find yourself alone in his study, discussing absolutely anything as you both conversed over red wine.

𖤓 That's when he notices things about you.

𖤓 It could be the alcohol, the late hour, or even just... realisation dawning on him, but he pays attention to all of these small things you do.

𖤓 The way your smile is evident in your features; your cheeks, lips, and even your eyes. Or the way you laugh every time he uses that tone of voice.

𖤓 And he just... lets it be.

𖤓 After all, he was taught that these types of extreme feelings had to be repressed. It was wrong to have such emotions as a man. They had to stay inside. They were wrong, unorthodox, ill.

𖤓 What a life.

𖤓 But he does subtly let you know. Whether that be by mainly conversing with you in ballrooms at your friend's parties, inviting you over to indulge in wine on the weekends, or even by taking walks with you on Sunday.

𖤓 It's subtle things, really. But you know that he cares.

————————————————————————————

𝐄𝐝𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐇𝐲𝐝𝐞

𖤓 How to begin with Edward?

𖤓 You met at a bar, of course you did. Where else?

𖤓 A particularly long day at work with particularly stressful papers led you to have a need to relieve yourself, so getting a drink before heading home seemed like a reasonable idea.

𖤓 Until he crept up to you.

𖤓 How to describe him? Beastly would be a harsh way to put it, but with the way he carried himself as well as his shrunken posture, it wasn't too far from the truth.

𖤓 Henry was still somewhat conscious within Edward, so he saw you. And given his... secret feelings towards you, he was confused why someone like you would be in a place like this.

𖤓 Something within Edward clicked, he was his own person after all, and for the first time since the first transformation, something human glistened in his eyes.

𖤓 After weeks and weeks worth of meet ups at this bar in Soho, you finally got to see what Edward was like — impulsive, rude, and yet somewhat comedic in what he did.

𖤓 Someone insults him or you? He gives the most dramatic gasp known to man, and starts a fight.

𖤓 Honestly? A laugh. We love that for him.

𖤓 Gaga and eccentric is one thing, careless is another, but with time, he practically adopts you into this cycle.

𖤓 You know somewhere within yourself that it's dangerous to be around a man like him. He's a threat to everyone, pretty much. Yet, at the same time, you feel protected by him.

𖤓 If you're hanging around the most dangerous man in London, what can anyone else do?

𖤓 It was months after meeting you that he recognised his feelings. Of course, Henry within him, he already had these emotions, but with Edward being the troglodyte that he is, it took him a while longer to recognise how Henry felt, and then himself.

𖤓 Once he does grasp it, though, not much changes.

𖤓 He's still as confident as ever, fearless, and dangerous, but a bit more protective. Maybe affectionate, if you give it time.

𖤓 Leaving a bar? A kiss on the cheek before getting dragged.

𖤓 It's a double sided coin with Edward and affection. He could do the absolute sweetest thing you've ever experience, and then top it off with the most uncharming action afterwards.

————————————————————————————

Conclusion? They're both disasters when it comes to feelings and romance and high-key need to go to a therapy session. Especially Henry. He definitely has Victorian England inflicted religious guilt deep within him. Get him an Aldi smoothie and a weighted blanket, amen.

————————————————————————————

Slander me all you want, but Henry would have loved this song.

[ao3-top-batfam-ships-bracket]

Holy moly, the people "well actually"-ing the brudick propaganda. Remember that multiple things can be true at once, and that there are limited returns in applying all real-world concerns to a fictional ship.

Is it true that the unorthodox relationship between a fictional adult and a kid who fight crime was propagandized to smear gay people? Yes. Is it true that in reaction, the Batman & Robin imagery was used as a "fuck you" by the community, and regardless of context a nonzero number of people were interested in the dynamics of a gay crimefighting duo? Yeah.

Was the intention of the writers that Bruce and Dick were in a gay relationship? No. Is there some special reason that matters when we're talking about audience interpretation? Also no.

Is it true that Bruce and Dick have been portrayed as father-son for many years now? Sure. Is there some special reason shippers have to adhere to editorial decisions made in recent decades and not stick with the dynamic they prefer? No.

Was Dick getting adopted as an adult an intentional reference to gay people using adoption for legal protections? No. Is it still a very interesting oppositional queer reading, that when Bruce and Dick were getting pushed into an explicit father-son framing, "protecting" the characters from the gay accusations, it reflected a way that gay people protected themselves? Sure is!

Can age gap relationships present opportunities for manipulation and abuse? Sure. Does that mean every relationship with an age gap is bad? No, what are you, omniscient??

Also, as an aside to that, is the concept of shipping limited to only exploring healthy dynamics? No.

All these complications just make brudick more interesting to me, and they're why I voted for it.

Very true!