#Work Your Light Oracle

[didyouknowthemeaningoflifeis42]

“Most people don’t follow the highest call of their soul because they are waiting to see the end destination before they take the first step. ”

- Rebecca Campbell

[dadailybocch]

Oh shit oh FUCK, that last post reminded me of this fan-comic someone drew where Bocchi & Kita were hanging out at a summer festival or something & Kita says THIS to Bocchi and-

OHHHHHHHHH. OH NO.... 😥😥😥😥😥

[alexesguerra]

Work Your Light Oracle Cards Work Your Light Oracle Cards Cards – June 5, 2018 by Rebecca Campbell (Author) ==Brand New-- Are you ready to Work Your Light? This beautiful 44-card oracle deck has been created to help you light up the world with your presence. By working with its five suits and connecting with your intuition, you will be able to start living a life in alignment with who you truly are. - Confirmation cards give a quick hit of instant guidance. - Inquiry cards help you tune in to the whispers of your soul. - Action cards guide you on what action to take. - Activation cards invoke healing within you. - Transmission cards connect you with supportive energies. The accompanying guidebook explains how to use the Work Your Light Oracle to deepen your relationship with your soul and the Source of all things. It contains in-depth meanings for each of the 44 cards, and reveals how to attune your cards, activate soul space before starting work, create different card spreads, and give readings for other people. When you work with the cards, you will find that your intuition increases, your soul's voice gets louder, and you are able to deeply embrace who you are and the work you came here to do. About the Author Rebecca Campbell is a celebrated spiritual teacher and the bestselling author of Light Is the New Black and Rise Sister Rise. She teaches internationally, encouraging people to answer the callings of their soul. www.rebeccacampbell.meDanielle Noel is a designer, writer, and visual artist. She weaves together a combination of mystical narratives and intuitive visions in her illustrations, paintings, photography, and design. www.daniellenoel.art Product details Cards Publisher: Hay House UK; Crds edition (June 5, 2018) Language: English ISBN-10: 178180995X ISBN-13: 9781781809952 Product Dimensions: 5 x 3.5 x 5.5 inches Shipping Weight: 11.4 ounces

[gaywineauntsstuff]

Sometimes I feel like us as the bat family fandom forget how starry eyed people get about Nightwing canonically.

Because with the exception of early era Tim most of the Batkids are like. lol that’s my loser older brother or some variation of yeah…he’s some guy I guess? He helps me with homework?

And Nightwing is the canonically a center of multiversal light.

When Heroes meet Nightwing they do the vigorous handshake and the “it’s an honor to meet you sir, I have heard so much about you oh my god”

There are so many character where they are literally shown giggling and kicking their feet whenever Nightwing talks to them.

Even the people who don’t have the celebrity level worship of him respect the hell out of him and call him as soon as they need help.

From raven to Starfire to Superman to Superboy to all or the flashes there is so much respect and awe given to this one dude.

And it is deserved

But imagine you are Damian Wayne and you’ve been working with what 90% of the people you’ve met (all bats) have been calling an embarrassment to your father’s legacy.

Your mother hates him and your Grandfather doesn’t feel that strongly about him.

The red hood calls him an embarrassment and a coward and he couldn’t even keep Red Robin from running away.

Your father tells him that he never should have been Batman

And you’ve worked with him and you know what you think everyone is full of shit about him and you and him the new Batman and Robin are the best no matter what anyone says.

And fuck it the fact he keeps going in a suit that everyone tells him he’s not good enough for is scratching something in your brain that you’re refusing to acknowledge because why would you feel that way? You are the circus freak have nothing in common (shut up)

And then you meet the justice league and all the extended teams.

And people are falling over themselves to listen to a word out of your brothers, your Batman’s mouth. They wait for a nod or headshake and dictate decades worth of planning on it.

Both Drake and Todd’s hero teams ask him for advice with or without their designated bats presence.

The man of steel asks for child rearing advice and wonder woman cracks a joke about a spar

Newer heroes whisper about him in the halls

He’s literally your favorite hero’s favorite hero

And it’s breaking Damian’s Brain

Because well… he kinda gets slapped around in Gotham. He’s the butt of half the jokes the other Batkids make and Dick just smiles and takes it.

The rogues have a bounty on nightwings ass and he gets leered at by goons, rogues, civilians and anti-hero’s alike and he doesn’t say anything.

He lets oracle crack jokes about a pretty face and having to do everything herself

Let’s Jason run the alley despite the fact that apparently he knows how to take it back

Apparently he’s had 12 people tailing Drake since Paris and despite being the man Ra’s Al Ghul calls detective has yet to notice. (Because you can’t tell me Dick was just magically at the right place to catch Tim falling to his death on coincidence)

And necessary to peace talks because he’s the best they have at deescalation

Like imagine you are a child who was raised to believe power is this obvious, all consuming thing. That the ones who control the board are visibly larger than life figures who fought their way to the top and cling to power by even the thinnest hangnail if they had to.

People who ignore simpler morals or an overall greater goal or good

And then you’re taken in by the man who whispers the correct answers into the larger than life figures ear.

Like I feel like that would have such an impact because Dick didn’t take power from anyone to reach his goals, it’s why his siblings don’t really defer to him unless in crisis.

Dick didn’t take power, no people just looked at him and decided he was the best option to give it to.

Everyone basically looked at this kid and went, yeah you’re the future of all heroism.

And if that dude can’t even get Bruce Wayne’s respect what chance does Damian Wayne have

[velvet-milk]

──── everybody knows that i'm a good boy, officer...

❤︎──── pairing: dick grayson x officer!reader.

❤︎──── summary: ❛❛as the newest cop on blüdhaven’s force, you hated masked freaks. nightwing, the masked freak himself, wants nothing more than your delicious, sweet approval. and maybe your naked body.❞

WARNINGS. dick wants your pussy so much he looks fucking stupid. 18+, jerking off. authority kink on his part. he loves a hot woman in uniform. hints of sub nightwing. female reader. officer reader. ©velvet-milk.

❤︎──── The first time he saw you, he had just taken down two armed robbers outside a liquor store — easy work, nothing fancy. A normal friday night for him. Dick was still catching his breath, escrima sticks holstered, the night wind tugging at his suit as he turned toward the flashing lights of the approaching squad car.

He muttered something to Oracle about the cops in the area and cut his comms. The flashing lights bathed the street in red and blue, casting just enough glow to catch the look you gave him — bored, patronizing, and vaguely amused. But the moment the window rolled down, he got hit with your full pretty face. And rude tone.

"Sweetheart, I know times are hard and stuff, but soliciting’s still a crime in this part of town."

Nice.

Your partner let out a strangled noise beside you. She leaned toward you like she could physically stop the words from coming out of your mouth, but it was far, far too late. You didn’t flinch. Just blew a bubble with your gum and popped it. Dick glanced down at himself — the skintight suit, the very iconic symbol across his chest — then looked back up at you.

"I literally just stopped a robbery."

You shrugged, unimpressed. "Cool. And I just filed a report. We all have hobbies."

To his credit, Dick didn’t get mad. Just gave you this slow, stunned little laugh, like he wasn’t sure if he was offended or intrigued.

"Wow. And here I thought I had a decent relationship with the BHPD after all these years."

You smiled sweetly, razor-sharp. "Oh, don’t get me wrong. I have nothing against sex workers."

Your partner in the passenger seat looked like she wanted to crawl into the glove compartment. She pressed a hand to her face and whispered, horrified, "Oh my God… that’s Nightwing."

You didn’t even flinch.

"Night-who?" you said, glancing at her like she’d just made up a word. "Why would I know his stage name?"

She turned to you, pale. "He’s, like… famous. National superhero famous."

Yeah, he fucking was. Thank you very much.

He took one last look at you — still lounging behind the wheel, smirking like you hadn’t just verbally curb-stomped a national hero. The other cop couldn’t even meet his eyes. Poor woman looked like she wanted to dissolve into her seat from secondhand embarrassment.

"Have a good night, officer," he said, voice clipped but smooth.

Then he turned on his heel, tapped his comms. "Oracle, remind me to review Blüdhaven precinct relations tomorrow," he muttered, raising his escrima stick and firing the grapple line. "Preferably before I set myself on fire again."

The line snapped taut, and he vanished into the night sky.

❤︎──── Of course he kept tabs on you after that night. You called him a hooker, straight to his face, and somehow looked obscenely hot while doing it. What was he supposed to do after that? Move on?

He was a simple man. A simple man with a morally flexible sense of privacy and way too much access to high-end surveillance tech. At the moment, he had four tabs open on the BHPD’s internal database. When Babs and Tim asked, he muttered something about "tracking a person of interest in the department."

Which, technically, wasn’t a lie. You were very interesting. You had a sharp mouth, a mean stare, perfect lips, and the kind of tits that made even the Nightwing suit feel a little tight.

"Yeah," he mumbled to himself, eyes fixed on your ID photo. "That’s the suspect. Definitely her."

He kept digging. It wasn’t enough to memorize your patrol schedule and ID badge, no, he had to go deeper. He found your Police Academy files. Graduated top of your class. Commendations in firearms, tactical response, and, of course, disciplinary reports for "insubordination" and "excessive sarcasm."

Then came your field test footage. Blurry body cam recordings. One of you talking down a suspect at gunpoint with zero backup. Another of you pinning a guy twice your size to the hood of a cruiser.

Very sexy of you, officer.

So he kept in close contact with the BHPD — closer than he needed to, if anyone was being honest about it. It had been years since Dick hung up the badge. But as Nightwing, he still had full access to department files, incident reports, internal memos, almost everything. All the tools of his former life, right at his fingertips.

And lately? He’d been using them for one very specific reason. You.

Every report you wrote, every arrest logged under your badge number, every disciplinary note with your name at the top, he read them all. More than once. It wasn’t intel gathering anymore. It was something else.

Something worse.

And you looked at him like he was a freak, every single time he showed up at a crime scene near your precinct. Last time, there was a body on the floor, half a dozen uniforms already securing the perimeter, and you crouched low, gloves on, examining blood spatter like it was just another tuesday. He tried to offer something helpful, something sharp, something detective-y.

You didn’t even look up.

"Sure thing, doll," you said, tone dry as bone. "Let me know if you wanna borrow a flashlight."

Then you stood, brushed past him, and kept working. He was still standing there ten seconds after you walked away, jaw tight, pride stinging, wondering what the hell was wrong with him that that turned him on. The dismissal. The uniform. The way your hips moved when you walked.

Jesus, he hadn’t been that hard in months.

Later that night he found himself alone in his apartment, right after patrol, hand wrapped tight around his cock, jerking off with embarrassing urgency to the mental image of your thighs straining against those uniform pants. He moaned softly, his thumb touching his leaking tip.

Dick could almost see it when he closed his eyes with a tiny whimper.

You, officer, climbing into his lap in the backseat of your cruiser, straddling him like you owned him. Belt undone, holster still strapped to your thigh. His hands cuffed behind him, helpless to do anything but take it.

You’d ride him so fucking hard, your pretty little pussy gripping him tight, warm and soaked around his cock. One hand tangled in his black hair, yanking when he got too mouthy, the other braced against the fogged-up glass of the squad car window as your hips slammed down, again and again, using him like he was yours.

He’d choke on a groan, eyes rolling back, biting the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood, because you wouldn’t let him finish until you were done. Until you were shaking on top of him, breathless and spent, nails dragging down his chest.

He came faster than he wanted to. Pathetic, really. He groaned your name like a fucking prayer, teeth sunk into his own wrist to keep quiet, while hot, messy cum spilled over his fist, his stomach, his shirt — hips jerking up off the mattress, desperate for more.

Desperate for you.

He looked up at the ceiling with a sigh, hands still sticky with his own cum like some desperate, horny teenager who’d never even touched a woman.

What the hell had you done to him, officer?

[goddamnitmahtin]

Danny’s Designer Friend

Okay so hear me out. Danny jumps universes a lot right? It’s a part of running errands for Clockwork. He may be the Ghost king but since he was Clockwork’s mentee at the same time, he had to run time errands sometimes. It took him to some really interesting places.

Some places had magic, some didn’t. Some had heroes that used their own devices and some had heroes that used magical artifacts to manifest abilities. Some didn’t have heroes at all. Some universes had lots of technology and some were working to catch up. And obviously, Danny had his favorites. And he had his favorite people from each.

So…. Danny had an idea.

…

Bruce looked around suspiciously, alert to any dangers that may be in the area. He and all of his children were on duty when all of a sudden he ended up in a modern mansion of sorts with an indoor waterfall.

“What in the world-?” He heard Tim say as Red Robin appeared as well.

“Oi-!” from a surprised Spoiler as she appeared.

Sword slashing noises as Robin appeared, apparently trying to slice the air, “What is this trickery!”

Next Duke in his pajamas and Nightwing appeared, landing on top of one another. “Get your sweaty ass off me,” Bruce heard his son say as he pushed his older brother off of him.

“GUYS!” Oracle called as she fell. She had teleported in but her chair didn’t seem to have come with her. Red Robin and Spoiler caught her just in time.

Orphan appeared silently.

Then Oracle’s wheelchair popped in, dropping onto Signal just as he had stood up. “Oh come on!” he exclaimed as a post it note apology appeared on his forehead. Presumably for forgetting the chair.

Lastly, Red Hood appeared, guns out and ready to fire. That is, if only he had anything to fire at. He quickly put them away once he realized it was only the bats and birds. The others wouldn’t have noticed it but behind his helmet, Jason was wide eyed, noticing the post it note. He only knew of two entities that used that form of communication and one meant something significantly better than the other.

After a few moments of Red Robin and Spoiler helping Oracle into her chair, footsteps could be heard approaching. Everyone tensed, ready for a fight. Except Red Hood who could feel his core tugging at him familiarly.

Two people approached. First person they were able to see was Danny. He had decided to show up in his kingly glory, his ceremonial cloak billowing behind him. As he got closer, they could see a very short woman with black hair and round glasses smoking a cigarette walking with him. Despite Danny being a king, she was the one in charge.

The woman walked up to the group with a judgmental look, “Every one of you. When I point, you tell me your title and occupation. Go.”

Nobody said anything.

“You guys better do what she says,” said Danny chuckling. Their faces so far were hilarious.

Slowly, the family obliged, starting with Red Hood.

“I go by Red Hood. I’m a crime lord. And a vigilante I guess,” Jason said. He knew enough to know they weren’t in any danger.

The others followed along until finally it got to Bruce, “I’m Batman. Vigilante.”

The short woman scoffed and immediately started pointing out the flaws in everyone’s outfits, “You all look ridiculous! What is that, bunny ears? And you! Red, green and yellow are far too many colors! You look like a traffic light! You! Those shoes are impractical and appalling! Do any of you know what style is?!”

She walked up to Duke, “I have seen photos of your suit and it is disgusting! Too bright!”

She gestured wildly to the group, “And NO CAPES!”

The woman then went up to Red Hood, “You are perfect darling, practical and filled with personality. You are my favorite.”

Danny chuckled, “He’s my favorite too.” The king shot a knowing smirk to Jason who under his helmet blushed from the comment.

“I am designing you all new suits right away!” the woman exclaimed with a wild look in her eye.

Danny couldn’t help but start laughing at this point. The looks on everyone’s faces were pure gold. This was the best idea he had literally ever had.

“I can’t wait to see it Edna. I can pay for it too,” the king said, sneaking a glance at Red Hood, “Anything for future in-laws.”

[misspantymime]

Bat X Family (Prologue)

a/n: This is my first time posting my writing online and I'm super nervous. I'm working up the nerve to write something longer, so please enjoy this for the moment. I can't take credit for the idea, cause I got it from @p-seduonym, just so you know.

Anya Forger! Child! Reader x Yandere! Platonic! Batfam

You had the coolest family!

Your Papa's name was Bruce Wayne and during the day, he's a super famous billionaire! He owns a big company called Wayne Tech and it makes a lot of cool things and helps people.

But at night...

He's a super hero named Batman!

He protects Gotham from villains and keeps everyone safe! He's got a cool car and a bunch a gadgets and stuff and--

Oh, but he doesn't work alone, y'know? He's got a lot of sidekicks too!

Your Big Brother Dick used to be called Robin, but now he's Nightwing and he's lives in Bludhaven. He's funny and he can do a lotta flips and stuff. It's 'cause he grew up in a circus, before Papa found him.

Big Brother Jay was Robin too, but then he got hurt really bad. Now he's in Crime Alley and his code name is Red Hood! He has a motorcycle and a bunch of guns. Not silenced pistols, like the spies have in your favorite show, but they're still really cool!

Big Brother Tim was also a Robin, but he's Red Robin now. They sound the same but they're actually different! He's super smart and can hack computers! Babara can too, and her code name is Oracle.

Big Sister Cass is very quiet, but nice! She can dance really pretty and knows what people are feeling just by looking at them! She goes by Orphan.

Steph is funny too. She plays lots of pranks and smiles a lot. She lets you play with her clothes, even if they're too big on you. She's Tim's friend, but you like her too! Her vigilante name is Spoiler.

Duke is nice too, and he came to the house just a little bit ago. He has a thing called a "meta-gene" which means he has superpowers! He can control light and his name is Signal.

Damian is your big brother cause he came from Papa too. But he didn't always live with Papa. He used to live with the "League of Assassins". How cool is that? He can even use a sword! He's the new Robin now.

And you all live together in a big house called a "manor", with Alfred, who can cooks and cleans and takes care of everyone--

Oh, how do you know all this well?

Well...

...It's cause you're a physic!

But that's a secret!

a/n: soooo I like neglected! reader. But it's not really spy x family if there's neglect, right? This will be mostly fluff and slice of life.

[ri-writes-if]

Chapter 6 is released!

You’ve been wandering in the darkness, but now the light is here, and it blinds you. Your vision clears, and you see it. You see the trap closing right above your head, leaving you with no way to escape.

The situation with Vezriel’s sibling becomes troublesome. Because of your abilities, you learn more than you should know. But it gives you a chance to see Vezriel from a side they show to few demons.

A strange vision promises you misery, though you don’t know why or how. Is it connected to Os? You can only guess, though you don’t have much time for it as Os pulls you back into the high society and shows you how they deal with some matters.

Perhaps Laz would’ve preferred to keep you at a safe distance, but when trouble knocks on the door of their home, Laz can’t refuse your help with an important matter. If you want your payment in honesty, you might just get it this time.

You and Ashmedai both walk closer to something you would rather not remember. For you, it is a painful reminder; for them, it’s another stone added to the weight of their guilt. They’re not prepared to give their last, most painful ‘secret’ to your judgment, but they must.

Az seems so simple, but the more you learn about them, the less you understand them. They’ve opened their home for you—which you never expected to happen—and have shown you unprecedented trust, but you still can’t stop wondering about what they’re hiding from you.

Over 100K words of new content!

Other updates/changes:

Content warnings are updated!

Added the Oracle’s appearance description and the characters’ heights to the profiles.

The relationship’s statuses will update almost at the end of the chapter, so take a peek at these 👀

Serif font is changed. I don’t think anyone cares, lol, but this one is easier to read.

A new hidden stat. It is an obvious one, so I’ll let you find it in the chapter. It’s not here to make or ruin your playthrough, so don’t fret about it and choose what is suitable for your Oracle! :) It’ll mostly give you additional flavor text depending on the other choices you make in the future.

There are lots of variables and branches at work, and I couldn’t go through all of them. So if you see something wanky, or a bug, or a double space line, or typos, or anything that sounds like it shouldn’t be in your specific playthrough/etc., please let me know! You can put it in the tumblr askbox, in the form, or message me directly anywhere.

LINK

I’ve been waiting for this chapter (this and the next one) for so long. When I was coming up with ideas for this story, the last scene of this chapter was among the first things I wrote down. At last you can guess where I’m leading the Oracle and what their journey will look like. Their journey and their growth... or downfall. And you’ll be the one to decide what it is and what the Oracle thinks of it :)

I wonder how many readers will be surprised by it and how many have been expecting it 👀 Let me know what you think about it!

@interact-if

[multi-fandom-imagine]

hey!! I loved your Epic series, and if it doesn't bother you, can you do one of places where Apollo would have sex with fem!reader? <3

A/n: Excellent

Apollo’s Favorite Places He and You Have Had Sex

By the god of poetry, prophecy, music, and absolutely unholy sex

1. In the Temple Dedicated to Him

Of course this is one of his favorites. What kind of god wouldn’t want to be worshiped in every possible sense of the word?

He had you spread across the marble altar, sunlight slicing through the columns like golden blades, casting holy light on your naked skin. The air was thick with incense — frankincense, myrrh, and your scent, which he swears is now his favorite perfume.

Apollo took his time, slow and deliberate, the kind of slow that’s maddening. He whispered praises into your ear in Ancient Greek, tongue flicking along your neck as he slid into you. Every roll of his hips made the mosaics overhead seem to shimmer. “You were made for this,” he muttered, hands holding your thighs open like he was offering you to the gods — except he was the god, and you were already his offering.

By the time he finished, you were trembling, back arched, the altar damp with sweat. He looked down at you like you were the prophecy he never saw coming — beautiful, divine, and absolutely wrecked.

2. On His Sun Chariot (While It Was in the Sky)

“Do you trust me?” he asked with that infuriatingly perfect grin — right before lifting you into the flaming chariot mid-sky.

The chariot moved fast, powered by his divine horses, soaring through the clouds. The wind whipped your hair back, and the sunlight painted his skin in godly gold, brighter than anything mortal eyes could bear. But he only had eyes for you.

He had you bent over the front of the chariot, bracing yourself against the golden frame as he pounded into you from behind, every thrust rattling the heavens. The horses neighed in approval (or protest — honestly who cared?), and the mortals below probably thought the streaks in the sky were shooting stars. They had no idea it was just Apollo fucking his favorite mortal across the stratosphere.

You came screaming his name — and somewhere, a poet was struck with inspiration.

3. In the Oracle’s Chamber at Delphi

The sacred space where his voice speaks through the Pythia and now, through you, when he’s deep inside and you can barely form coherent words.

The first time it happened, he caught you staring a little too long at the bronze tripod where the Oracle sat. He raised a brow and said, “Wanna sit there?” And you, of course, didn’t realize what he meant until he was lowering you onto it, letting you straddle the seat while he knelt before you.

His tongue was devastating. Divine. Almost cruel with how expertly he worked you up, dragging it over your slick folds, licking and sucking like it was ambrosia. He held your thighs open, whispering things no mortal should ever hear — promises of how he’d make you feel like a goddess, if only for a moment.

And then he stood, slid into you with a slow groan, and suddenly you understood why the Oracle spoke in tongues. Because with Apollo inside you, gasping and calling out is the only language that makes sense.

4. In the Middle of a Field of Poppies

Sun-warmed, lazy, dream-dazed sex. One of those days where he’d wrapped himself around you under the golden sun, fingers lazily stroking your skin, feeding you grapes and kisses like you were Persephone and he was trying to lure you into staying forever.

The poppies rustled around you, soft and fragrant, as he slid between your legs with the kind of tenderness that made your chest ache. He didn’t thrust so much as roll into you, every motion a sin made sacred by the way he whispered your name.

This was slow, syrupy sex. Hands in hair. Lips on collarbones. Words like “mine” and “always” murmured like prayers. He made love to you, and then he did it again, even slower, even deeper, until you were boneless and blissed out and wearing nothing but petals and his fingerprints.

5. On the Stage at an Empty Amphitheater

Because Apollo isn’t just the god of prophecy and plague — he’s the god of music, and your moans are his favorite melody.

He sat on the edge of the stage, legs spread, cock hard and leaking, beckoning you forward like you were his next performance. You sank to your knees, mouth parting around him, and he groaned like the first note of a song.

But that wasn’t enough. It never is with him. He pulled you up, bent you over the edge of the platform, and slid into you with a low hiss. The acoustics made everything louder — the slap of skin, the wet sound of your cunt, your broken cries as he fucked you harder and harder, until your voice echoed across the stone walls like some ancient hymn.

He swore later that if anyone ever heard that echo, they’d be compelled to write the next great tragedy. One that begins and ends with a god losing his mind over a mortal like you.

6. In His Sacred Grove — Against a Laurel Tree

Oh, this one was personal.

You were teasing him, wearing one of his laurel crowns and nothing else, lounging among his trees like you owned the place. “You know that’s sacred,” he warned, but you just smiled.

So he made you kneel before the tree, cheek pressed to the bark, while he took you from behind, fingers gripping your hips so tight you bore little bruises shaped like his hands.

“You think you can mock me, little nymph?” he growled against your neck. “I’m a god. Your god.”

You bit back a moan, but he smirked. “Say it. Who do you belong to?”

“Apollo,” you gasped. “I belong to Apollo.”

He didn’t stop until your legs gave out, and even then he lifted you, pinned you to the tree, and fucked you into it like he was staking his claim on nature itself.

7. In His Library — With You Bent Over His Scrolls

Knowledge? Sacred. Learning? Beautiful. But nothing makes Apollo harder than seeing you stretched across his parchment, smudging ink with your sweat and slick.

He had been reading. You had been distracting. And suddenly, you were bent over the desk, skirt bunched around your waist, hands grasping for the edge as he filled you from behind. Scrolls fell to the floor. Candles flickered. The only thing louder than your cries was the sound of his hips slamming into you.

He groaned every time you clenched around him. “You’re ruining centuries of wisdom,” he growled, “and I don’t even care.”

You came with his name on your lips and a map of ancient texts pressed into your back. He came with a curse and a promise — that he’d bind you to him, with words and moans and the kind of pleasure only a god can give.

Honorable Mentions

• In the bath, with golden oils and lazy kisses

• During a thunderstorm, while lightning crackled around you

• In mortal disguise, in a crowded temple, with his fingers inside you while you tried to stay quiet

• Against a mirror, watching you fall apart and loving every second of it

And the best part?

Every time he takes you — no matter the place — he swears he falls a little more. You’re his muse, his madness, his favorite song. And he’ll keep writing you into every verse, every prophecy, every moan that leaves his lips.

Because for Apollo, the god of light, there is nothing more divine than the way you say his name when you come.

[wchswift]

✰ PATCH ME IN, BABY

→ summary: being the boys’ hacker means long nights, shitty coffee, and zero quiet—but being soldier boy's hacker girlfriend makes the chaos worth it, especially when it ends in teasing, softness, and good hot sex.

⤿ soldier boy x supe hacker!reader / cw: established relationship, domestic fluff + smut, light banter, slightly soft ben (for you only), kinda out of character ben.

⤿ word count! 1.2k

Your nose wrinkles at the smell of burned toast and gun oil that fills the loft.

Which, if you ask anyone else, is a disaster. But to you, it’s just home. Soldier Boy’s boots are kicked off near the door, his shield leaning against the kitchen table like it owns the damn place. You’re curled up on the couch in one of his old tees—an ancient, washed-out thing that reads Support Our Troops—your laptop balanced on your thighs as you tap away.

He strolls out of the shower, towel low on his hips, still damp, beard a little more trimmed. Bare chest on full display.

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, not even looking up, “ever heard of clothes?”

Ben smirks, voice low and gravelly. “Ever heard of knocking before ogling your man in his natural habitat?”

“I live here, and it's my place actually,” you deadpan. “and I wasn’t ogling. I was regretting my life choices.”

He saunters closer, towel slipping lower. “Sure you were, sweetheart.”

You snort but don’t protest when he plants himself behind the couch and leans over to peer at your screen. drops of water dripping from his hair, cool against your neck. “Whatcha workin’ on, Oracle?”

“Cross-checking security footage from that Vought safehouse Butcher wants us to hit. And don’t call me Oracle. I’m not a comic book character.”

He smirks, beard brushing your temple as he leans in. “C’mon, it’s a solid supe-name. You’re the hacker chick. The brains. The spooky voice in our ears.”

You snort. “Yeah, and you’re the dumbass who thinks brute force counts as a personality trait.”

Ben chuckles, low and smug. “Aw, come on. I’m the muscle, you’re the brains. It’s a classic combo.”

“Oh, so that’s what we’re calling you now? Muscle?”

"Look at least I’m not the one hiding behind a screen like a little princess while the rest of us do the dirty work.”

You slowly swivel in your seat to face him, raising a brow. “Princess?”

“If the combat boot fits…”

“Oh please. I could knock you on your ass without breaking a sweat.”

Ben chuckles. “Sure you could, sweetheart.”

“You’re only alive half the time because I am behind a screen,” you fire back. “I do the heavy lifting. You just don’t notice, ‘cause the only muscles you ever use are the ones in your biceps and your jaw.”

He grins, eyes glittering with affection. “And still, you’re into me. And you love those muscles. What does that make you then?”

You lean your head back, grinning up at him. “Touché.”

For a moment, there’s silence—comfortable, warm. His fingers drift lazily along your collarbone, rough thumb tracing circles against your skin like he’s not even aware he’s doing it.

This is the side of Soldier Boy the world never sees. Not the snarling, posturing legend. Just Ben. Your Ben. Who makes the worst coffee in New York, sings off-key in the shower, and eats peanut butter straight from the jar with a hunting knife.

And who, against every possible odd, is stupidly in love with you.

“You done soon?” he asks, mouth brushing your temple.

You hum. “Ten minutes. Why? Got somewhere to be?”

“Nowhere but here.”

That earns him a soft smile. “You’re getting sentimental in your old age.”

“Yeah, well,” he rumbles, “don’t tell the others. I’ve got a rep to ruin.”

You tilt your head up to kiss him. Just a quick thing, a peck—but he deepens it like he’s been waiting all day for it. Tongue, teeth, hand in your hair. When he finally pulls back, your lips are kissed raw.

You blink up at him, breathless. “You were saying something about ruining your rep?”

Ben grins, all cocky and warm. “Was thinkin’ I’d ruin you instead.”

Oh. He was so embarrassing but oh.

Laptop forgotten, you twist to kneel on the couch and pull him towards you by the neck. “Well, since you asked so nicely…”

You don’t make it to the bedroom.

He likes you right here, half-naked on his lap, his shirt riding up your hips as you grind against the hard length of him beneath his towel. His hands are big and warm and everywhere—cupping your ass, spreading your thighs wider.

“You wearin’ panties under this?” he growls, tugging at the shirt.

“Nope,” you say sweetly.

Ben groans, hands tightening around your waist. “Fuck, baby. You tryna kill me?”

“You’re a superhero, remember? Thought you could take it.”

He rips the shirt over your head, groaning like he’s been denied oxygen. “You tryna take me, is what you’re doin’.”

Your fingers slide into his damp hair, tugging gently as you kiss him again—slow, deep, filthy. His beard scratches your skin in all the right ways, his chest hot and solid against yours. You roll your hips, and he hisses, low and dangerous.

“Christ, you’re wet, soaking the fucking towel,” he mutters against your throat. “Fuckin’ soaked for me, huh?”

You gasp as he shifts, letting the towel fall away so he can slide two thick fingers through your folds, teasing but never giving you enough.

“Ben…”

“Tell me what you want, babygirl.”

You grind down, frustrated and aching. “I want you. Inside me. Now.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

In one smooth motion, he lifts you by the hips and sinks you down onto his cock, both of you gasping as he stretches you open. He’s big—always is—but tonight you take him so well, like you were made for him.

“Fuck, you always feel good, always my perfect doll.” he pants, fingers bruising your hips as you start to ride him.

You move together like you’ve done it a hundred times—because you have. But it never gets old. The sweat, the grip of his hands, the way he watches you like you’re everything.

Like he’s not a living weapon, a goddamn legend.

Just a man. Your man.

“Ben,” you whisper, forehead pressed to his. “Love you.”

He kisses you hard, hips snapping up to meet yours.

“Yeah?” he groans. “Then come for me, baby. Show me.”

You do—body shuddering, walls fluttering around him as you cry out, the world narrowing to white-hot pleasure and his name on your lips.

He follows right after, with a deep, desperate sound, spilling inside you and holding you close like you might vanish.

When it’s over, you collapse against him, boneless and panting, skin sticky with sweat.

“You good?” he murmurs, brushing your hair from your face.

You smile sleepily. “Better than good.”

Ben nuzzles your neck. “Think I like this domestic shit.”

“Yeah?” you mumble. “Even when I hog the blankets and leave hair in the sink?”

“Especially then,” he says, and damn it, he means it.

You fall asleep there on the couch, tangled together under a throw blanket that smells like sex and old cologne, a bag of Doritos within arm’s reach and his shield watching over you like a silent, patriotic chaperone.

Honestly?

You wouldn’t change a damn thing.

𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!

⛥ main masterlist.

Lina's notes: hello!! this is the first part of a mini-series with independent one-shots that I was already planning and even mentioned here. I had this idea of soldier boy with a supe hacker reader based on DC's Oracle, and my god, I'm in love with them and their dynamic, so I wrote this little drabble as an introduction to them and their little story. I hope you guys like it and want to read more when I finally start the series properly <3

taglist: @blossomingorchids @rositaslabyrinth @bettystonewell @cowboysandcigarettes @soldiersgirl @bluemerakis @h8aaz @bruisedfig @jasvtsc @maddie0101 @bejeweledinterludes @starzify @gibson-g1rl @losers-clvb @tinas111 @amaris444 @sapphic-destiel @deansmisha (let me know if you want to be added or removed <3)

[marsprincess889]

Basic themes of nakshatras

May edit this later, this is as far as I understand and have observed them, and I think it's pretty nice to see them simply.

Ashwini:

Newness, freshness, the unmanifest, speed, energy, vitality, instinct, healing, fast healing, unlimited energy, self-expression, selfishness, blocking outside noise, trusting yourself, self-empowerment, unfiltered actions.

Things that remind me of Ashwini: bees, the sun, horses, two white horses, golden deserts, horses gallopping, honey, long hair flying in the wind, apples.

Bharani:

Love, death, sex, the female, the feminine, limitations, the material, fate, destiny, coming into the body, struggling against limitations, struggling against fate, mind trapped in its own hell because of the inevitable, dealing with the harshness of life, harshness of mothers and mother nature, the hierarchy, privileges and deprivations, desire, going after your true desire, the immortality of the soul, adapting to changes, passion, tragic love, bravery, facing the truth, choicelessness, nessecity, revenge, violence, gatekeeping, reduction, denial of access, conquering your fate, everlasting beauty, immortality, eternal love.

Things that remind me of Bharani: hot pink and black, darkness, roses, the yoni, gateways, keyholes, caverns, boats, rivers, the damsel in distress, fantasy, high fantasy.

Krittika:

Adam, the main character, naming things, language, rationality, precision, sharpness, criticism, the poet, the "it" person, simplicity, cleanliness, expressing oneself, selectivity, the heat, the knowledge, the light, masculine ideals, stoicism.

Things that remind me of Krittika: knives, razors, lighers, sparks, fire, hearth, cooking.

Rohini:

Eve, sugar babies, growth, receptivity, enjoyment, pleasure, unrefined, doted on, subconcious, absorbtion, sharing, union, creation, the youngest daughter, naivete, feeling no shame.

Things that remind me of Rohini: sugar, stickiness, sweetness, heaviness, red, pink, flowers, the A.I(lol).

Mrigashira:

Distraction, realization, fickleness, adventure, running away, chasing, the hunt, excitement, softness, pleasure, altering conciousness, magic substances(iykwim), curiosity, fulfillment, insatiability, teasing.

Things that remind me of Mrigashira: silver threads, deer, green forests, green and blue, running in the woods, alcohol, the moon, Shakespeare's "A Midsummer Night's Dream".

Ardra:

Disillusion, crying, lamenting, awareness of others, awarness of other's expectations, hyper-awarness of everything, intellect, the rational mind, pressures from society, rebelling against society, anxiety, hunting.

Things that remind me of Ardra: tears, water, storms, technology, teenage angst, emo culture, the rain, sad songs, dogs.

Punarvasu:

Mercy, forgiveness, permission, freedom, flying, expansion, gentleness, regrowing, realigning, returning, home, unconditional love and nurture, celebration, peace, peacefulness, centering oneself, sunlight, warmth, fostering, taking care, being taken care of, luck, unlimited fertile space, shelter, genuine kindness, believing in humanity again, cycles, patterns, seeing the cycles and the patterns, prophecies, the oracle, openness, second (and third, fouth...) chances, a comeback.

Things that remind me of Punarvasu: staying at home, pets, plants, cats, gentle rain, a bow and arrows, a target.

Pushya:

Asceticism, routines, self-restraint, servitude, control, self-control, working, working on yourself, patience, simplicity, striving for perfection, nurturing, nourishment, quiet ambition, symmetry.

Things that remind me of Pushya: milk, milkmaids, country life, milking, symmetry, goats, sheep, agriculture.

Ashlesha:

Manipulation, abuse, poison, emotional abuse, blackmail, resorting to everything for safety, protection, pent up energy, the nervous system, purity, water, sensitivity, cleanliness, energetic build-up, tension, restraint, preservation, self-preservation, virginity, feminine tactics, being "mean" for protection, lying for safety, sensuality, mother issues, agitation.

Things that remind me of Ashlesha: the color white, transparent things, cats, poisoning, snow white, Sofia Coppola films, teenage girlhood, ties, strings, knots, snakes.

Magha:

Royalty, power, ancestry, family trees, history, the past, regality, honoring the past, honoring the elders, honoring the authority, religion, tradition, customs, confidence, ego.

Things that remind me of Magha: crowns, thrones, churches, goth culture, smoke, big hair(like the lion's mane).

Purva Phalguni:

Pleasure, enjoyment, being spoiled as the feminine, loving to spoil as the masculine, procreation, sex, leisure, art, holidays, parties, exclusivity, pride, charisma, sexual dispersion, love as a method of self-expression, admiration, directness, active pursuit of your passions, indulgence.

Things that remind me of Purva Phalguni: fruits, eating fruits topless, rose gold color, the "rizz"(lol), the phallus, dramaticism.

Uttara Phalguni:

Favors from friends, family and partners, contracts, beneficial agreements, the perfect wife, likeability, popularity, friendliness, appearing cool, stoicism, beneficial arrangements, gain through partnerships, self-expression through relationships, wife/girlrfiend material, harvest, family associations, marriage associations.

Things that remind me of Uttara Phalguni: the "chads", simplicity, genuine friends, loyal companions, family business, the perfect male stereotype, the "rich heiress running away" trope, wheat, gold, power couples.

Hasta:

The earth, the veiled feminine, manipulation, denial of access, materialism, cheating, everyday matters, empowerment of women, deception, skill, seeking knowledge, wanting to be in control, activism, street-smarts, manipulation of masses.

Things that remind me of Hasta: the hand, Goddess Persephone, skilled hands, thieves, easy money, fairies, witches, scammers.

Chitra:

Crafting, building, perspective, truth, law, gems, sacrifice for your craft, vanity, stereotypes, aesthetics, the truth in stereotypes, building based on the law and the truth, the surface of things, the appearance of things, the substance reflected in the vessel, gossip, cliques, tricks.

Things that remind me of Chitra: the god Hephestos, martian gods in general, jewelry, fashion, make-up, drama, pettiness, the coquette aesthetic, pranksters, Olivia Rodrigo(ig).

Swati:

Space, the cosmos, shifting realities, love, rebellion, alternate realities, possibilities, seeing beauty in everything, inspiration, art, the cosmic egg, creation of the world, creation of worlds, microcosm and macrocosm, freedom through love.

Things that remind me of Swati: video games, the wind, plants beggining to sprout, the sword, technology, the Sims.

Vishakha:

The lightning, snapping, splitting, joining opposites, compromise, marriage, repressed anger, repressed aggression, alter egos, passion, enthusiasm, standing up for yourself and others, repression and then expression, energy, love and hate.

Things that remind me of Vishakha: lighning bolts, Zeus, Thor and other lighning gods, superhero "Shazam", celebrations.

Anuradha:

Friendship, devotion, depth, loyalty, unconditional loyalty, bonds, the occult, sex with love, numbers, gatherings, friend groups, groups, gentleness, humbleness, discipline, seriousness, organizing society, social groups.

Things that remind me of Anuradha: the color burgundy, dim lights, bunnies, "Sex Education" (tv show), sci-fi (for some reason), "The Vampire Diaries" (and very similar teen shows), frat boys, cheerleaders.

Jyeshta:

The battlefield, war, hunger, thirst, insatiability, conquering, the underdog, street-smarts, competition, strategy, extreme independence, mind games, the art of war, survival, ruling, rising above, self-reliance, wisdom, becoming the authority, the eldest, dryness, trust issues, enemies, destroying enemies, outsmarting all enemies.

Things that remind me of Jyeshta: grandmothers, owls, eagles, dry places, flags, marching, chess.

Mula:

Horror, the abnormal, the truth, the core, the center, the absorbing darkness, the black hole, the roots, violence against falsehoods, seeking the truth, seeking the cause, seeking roots, uprooting, chaos, from chaos to order, the unchanging truth, taming beasts, holding to your truth.

Things that remind me of Mula: "Phanton of the Opera", "Twilight", final girls, horror movies, dark murky green, the wilderness.

Purva Ashadha:

Art, beauty, alliances, artistry, ideals, fighting for the ideal, discrimination, exclusivity, philosophies about beauty and art, passion for love and art, attachments, secrecy, luxury, vitality, vigor, going for victory.

Things that remind me of Purva Ashadha: the sea, seafoam, goddess Aphrodite, seashells, mermaids, sirens, fans (the ones you hold in your hand lol), Arwen from LotR.

Uttara Ashadha:

Victory, loneliness, individuality, government, empowerment, independence, being looked up to, composed self-expression, ease, simplicity but regality, confidence, self-assuredness, melancholy and hardships of aloneness but contentment, stoicism, invincibility, unapologetic behavior.

Things that remind me of Uttara Ashadha: earnest people, goddess Nike, mint color for some reason.

Shravana:

Connecting everything, secret knowledge, interest in everything, reading between the lines, subconcious access, extreme sensitivity, holding the humanity together, secret agencies, percieving what others can't percieve, saving humanity, navigating, receptivity, mysticism.

Things that remind me of Shravana: Superman, Geralt of Rivia, Aragorn, King arthur, pathways, footprints, ear, color blue, spies, astrology, outcasts, fringe societies.

Dhanishta:

Celebration, celebrities, fame, visibility, aggression, agitation, action, bringing people together, idols, propaganda, wealth from fame, that which attracts attention, public image, benefits and downsides of fame, openness and flashiness, branding, movement.

Things that remind me of Dhanishta: supermodels, Princess Diana, dancing, rhythmic drums.

Shatabhisha:

Complexities, seeing everything, lurking in shadows, holding the knowledge, secrets, secrecy, hiding, technology, innovation, being ahead of your time, advising but manipulating, society, the collective, trends, the conciousness of masses, propaganda.

Things that remind me of Shatabhisha: midnight sky, stars, the seas, water reservoirs, the circle, the all-seeing eye of Sauron(lol), Lord of the Rings, rings, the movie "Stardust" (the book too), the evil advisor/black cardinal trope.

Purva Bhadrapada:

Notoriety, expansion, uncontrolled expansion, persmissiveness, growth to ruin unless restrained, fighting for your soul, the scapegoat, going against society, getting tested, the point of no return.

Things that remind me of Purva Bhadrapada: gangs, famous criminals, laziness, femme fatales, the grotesque, deserts, werewolves, the black sheep.

Uttara Bhadrapada:

Finding grace, hardships, working, inner strength, steeliness, resilience, patience, restraint, contol, self-restraint and self-control, bravery, honesty, stubbornness, fighting for your truth, perfect control, freedom through limitations, seeking a permanent foundation built on truth, working for the foundation, long-term goals, innocence, purity of soul, stillness, refinement, honor and glory.

Things that remind me of Uttara Bhadrapada: butterflies, clouds, baby blue color, Cinderella, warriors, knights, knight orders, ice, coldness, queens, ice-queen, dragons, water dragons, deep waters, deep sea and its creatures, wings.

Revati:

Ultimate freedom, creativity, wisdom, gentleness, compassion, guiding, herding, fun, laughter, mischief, lightnness, ease, finding peace, reaching the end, enjoying what you have, contentment, nurturing, open-mindedness, conclusions, gratefulness, freedom and free will, having choices, diversity, finding the truth, true wealth, parenthood, the guide, guidance, individuation.

Things that remind me of Revati: shepherds, herding, everything easy and light, the tricksters, the fool, jokes, Loki, The Joker, fish, comedy, the movie "A Fish Called Wanda", caring for everyone and everything, light and soft shades of green and blue.

[kittyfrisk9]

IdeaDpxDc—There are better ways to meet someone.

Note: Sorry, I don't know English, so please use a translator. I apologize if you don't get the idea.

Dead On Main. Soul mates.

---

"Exactly... what does this ring do?" The shining ring was still attached to his finger. This wouldn't worry him if it weren't for the fact that, with each passing minute, the ring emitted more light, and that can't be good.

The cult leader refused to speak. He wouldn't even look at him, seeming particularly attentive to the material the floor was made of. Very funny that now he was scared of him when, an hour ago, he was giving a very cliché speech about how humanity was doomed because it would summon the evil of evils.

It wasn't very smart of him to perform his summoning precisely in Gotham City, home of the Dark Knight.

Red Hood was getting impatient. He placed the hand without the ring on his weapon; if words didn't work, a real threat to his life would. And this didn't really break Bruce's 'no killing' rule because the gun was only loaded with rubber bullets. However, just as he was about to advance and shoot the guy, he saw Batman grab the leader's tunic collar and lift him up.

The man, of course, screamed in fear. "Speak, what does that ring do?" No jokes. Batman's voice was deeper than usual, showing that he was upset, no, rather angry.

Or worried, but Jason could never consider that possibility. For the moment, he was only surprised, although it didn't show through his helmet.

"I-I don't know," the leader replied. Poor guy, he seemed about to cry. Batman, not content, tightened his grip even more; he wasn't willing to tolerate a lie this time.

Red Robin raised an eyebrow. "You managed to gather a bunch of magical artifacts for your summoning and you don't know what they do?"

The man looked away. "No..." The rest of the cult members also looked away. Very brave and stupid of them to all agree to lie to the bats. Jason himself wanted to mock them, but the ring kept shining. He couldn't mock when the ring kept shining and he didn't know what it meant.

From the communications, Robin could be heard. "Tt, this wouldn't be happening if Hood hadn't put on the ring." Jason suppressed a growl.

"Kid, I didn't put on the ring. This thing stuck to me the moment I touched it." It was true. In the middle of the operation to stop the ritual, Jason had pulled the ring, which at that moment was a kind of necklace by the chain that ran through it, from a member who was wearing it. The ring in his hand began to glow and suddenly teleported to his ring finger, then stopped shining. It was when everything calmed down that the ring began to release a different, but constant light.

Approximately ten minutes have passed since then, he thought as he looked at the ring, ignoring all the magical stuff; it was actually a very simple ring. Suddenly, the ring began to blink.

Oh, no. That couldn't be good.

Batman, fed up with the leader's silence and his followers, threw the man meters ahead. "Oracle, call Zatanna now, we need more information about the ring," he ordered as he approached the man who was in pain from the fall. The guy, terrified by the violent aura of the Dark Knight, tried to retreat.

Finally, Nightwing stepped between the man and the brutal beating he would receive if he didn't speak.

"It's okay, B, calm down." With his hand on his father's shoulder, Dick tried to ease the atmosphere. "I understand your concern. We are all worried about what the ring might do to Hood. But we can't let fear and anger control us. Hood is important to all of us. He is our brother, your son. We can't lose our cool now. Let's call Wonder Woman. If no one wants to talk, she can help us with the lasso of truth."

Total silence. Jason didn't know what to say; he didn't think his family would react like this over a blinking ring. That is... he doesn't know. Suddenly, the ring's light began to blink faster.

Batman, after Nightwing's words and seeing the change in the ring, understood that he couldn't waste time with someone who wouldn't talk. "You're right, thank you Nightwing." Looking at the others, he said: "We need to act quickly, we don't know the effects the ring might have on Hood. We need to take him to the cave for a thorough analysis, no discussions." The last part he said looking at Jason. "Until then, don't try to take it off or use it."

Jason scoffed, as if he would.

"Oracle, you heard, call Diana. Red Robin and I will take care of the rest of the cult. Nightwing, take Red Hood to the cave." Batman began giving orders as he reached the leader and began dragging him towards the rest of his cult. The leader, in a failed attempt, tried to resist. "Agent A, please prepare a stretcher. Understood?"

Everyone nodded.

On the other hand, the touching speech and the strange family moment of the bats seemed to soften the heart of a girl from the cult, who in a whisper said: "The ring, nothing will happen to him." Although she spoke quietly, everyone present heard her.

The leader, panicking that the information would be revealed, exclaimed: "Catrina, shut up!" However, he was struck by Batman, who was already fed up with the guy.

"What do you have to say about the ring?" he asked.

The woman hesitated to speak. "We thought of using the ring to subdue the king of the dead and make him listen to our orders..." She paused, not knowing how to continue. "There is a real legend about the ring. A long time ago, a witch wanted to know who her soulmate was, so she created the ring. This allows one to be guided to their soulmate through the red thread. I think everyone already knows what the red thread is." Nervous, she looked around. Only Nightwing nodded, and that was enough for her to continue telling. "Well, the witch's red thread connected with a prince. Unfortunately for everyone, the prince was not happy that his soulmate was a witch. So he had her killed." The girl looked at her hands; that part of the story was sad. "The witch was angry, but still wanted her soulmate to accept her, so she rewrote the ring's original purpose. It was no longer something that united you with your soulmate, but now it was something that allowed you to subdue your soulmate... uh, this." She pointed to a book that was lying in a corner. "With another spell, in fact, it can be used to subdue anyone, even a king of the dead."

With the whole story already told, Red Robin asked: "So, what is the ring doing to Red Hood?"

"It's tracking his soulmate. I... didn't get to put the other spell on it. I could only activate the ring's primary function. Your brother will be fine."

That definitely changes things. Jason swore he could hear his heart beating. A soulmate, wow. He admits he's read many romance novels and maybe once dreamed of it, but for it to actually happen, wow.

Suddenly, the ring stopped blinking. Five seconds later, everyone saw a red thread shoot out from the ring's gem. It quickly moved in one direction, went through the wall, and kept going. The process was like a fishing rod when it catches a fish.

"Does this mean it already found its soulmate?" Red Robin asked. Astonished by the red thread, he tried to touch it but his hand went through it; apparently, the thread was intangible to anyone else.

"Yes," the cultist also seemed astonished.

Jason felt a look on him, turned, it was his brother. Oh no, not that look, he knew that smile; Dick would tease him so much in the coming days. For his part, Batman sighed in relief. Well, it wasn't such an extreme danger, but it was still dangerous. "Agent A, cancel the stretcher." He never imagined this would mean a soulmate case. "Oracle, don't cancel the call to Zatanna or Wonder Woman, we need to verify the information. We'll stay here until the police arrive."

How nice it would be if everything ended like that, right? With Dick joking with Jason, Tim analyzing the thread, Barbara laughing at the turn of events, Bruce relieved and Damian surprised. However, one must remember the story.

The witch changed the ring's original purpose. Unexpectedly, the thread began to retract, as if it had caught something. It did so so quickly that Jason grabbed his hand in pain. It was then that everyone had a bad feeling. The wall the thread had previously passed through suddenly exploded, the noise and dust alerting everyone, especially when once the chaos disappeared, something horrific could be seen.

An arm. A fucking arm. Apparently freshly torn from its owner. Oh, no. What did it do to his soulmate?

...

Somewhere else in the world, somewhere in the United States, Danny gasped in pain. What the hell? What was that? Ancients! Where is his arm?

---

Note: Sorry, I don't know English, so please use a translator. I apologize if you don't get the idea.

Edited on 06/21/2024 - Note two: Thanks to redflagshipwriter, who continued this idea below. And to Sakuravalelp who made me laugh with the complement.

[shaiyasstuff]

jealousy killed the cat | zayne

synopsis : zayne gets jealous, that’s it content : Shaiya is my OC, imagine it’s me :D I really just added elements of me irl, comical, FLUFF FLUFF AND MORE FLUFF TAKE IT THIS IS RARE

Zayne is a quiet guy.

And you liked that about him.

He doesn’t say much, but you see it in the way he loves you—in the small gestures, the thoughtful silences, the way his hand always finds yours even in sleep.

His quiet is calming. Safe.

But that same quiet turns infuriating when he’s upset.

Because he won’t talk about it. Not even a word.

He’ll bottle it up, shove it somewhere deep, and pretend everything is fine.

He thinks bringing it up would make him a burden.

And you—bright, relentless, loud in your affection—you’re the sunshine he’s afraid of dimming.

Which is exactly why you’ve been stuck here, two hours and counting, waiting for him to come out of his room.

You tried brushing it off last week.

Maybe it’s work stress?

But even when Zayne’s exhausted, he never ignores you. Never flinches at your touch. Never avoids your eyes.

So now, you’ve taken matters into your own hands.

You’d waited for his day off—his sacred, stay-at-home-and-cuddle-you day.

You’d wait for the perfect moment and then ask him, gently but firmly, to tell you what’s wrong.

Because when you ask, he always listens.

You heard his door open. Footsteps approaching.

You stood, heart ready, words rehearsed.

“Zay—”

“I’m going for lunch with Yvonne.”

You blinked.

Paused.

Your brow lifted. “Why are you telling me that?”

He never announces when he’s going out. He just does. And you’ve never needed him to—you trust him.

But he just stood there, gaze lingering, as if he was waiting for something. Waiting for you to say something.

When you didn’t—because you didn’t know what he wanted—he turned and left. No goodbye. No explanation.

Just gone.

—•

“Shaaaaiyaaa…”

You groan dramatically, slumped across your friend’s couch while she snacks on spiced chips like this is her favorite TV drama.

“She’s finally fallen,” Shaiya teases, poking your knee with her toe. “Trouble in paradise?”

You were currently in your lady hunter friend’s apartment, sulking over your overly distant boyfriend.

“Zayne’s been acting weird,” you grumble, muffling your voice in your hands. “He’s quiet but not like this. This is… ice-age level.”

“Strange,” she muses, tilting her head. “He doesn’t usually act out like that.”

“Exactly!” you say, throwing your arms up. “He’s acting like I ran over his cat or something!”

Shaiya chews thoughtfully, then her eyes light up with the glint of chaos and curiosity.

“What if he’s… jealous?”

You freeze.

And stare at her like she just suggested the moon was made of cheese.

“…Jealous? Zayne?”

She shrugs, smug. “Would explain the whole ‘telling you where he’s going’ thing.”

You open your mouth to argue. Then shut it again.

And suddenly, the past week begins to reorder itself in your head.

The silence. The sidelong glances. The stiff goodnight kisses.

The out-of-nowhere announcement about Yvonne.

Your eyes widen slightly.

“…No way,” you whisper, sitting up straighter. “Could it be…?”

Shaiya doesn’t even let you finish.

She gasps—loud and theatrical—then dramatically clutches her chest like she’s just witnessed a plot twist in a drama.

“She gets it! My work here is done!”

You blink at her as she leans back into the couch like a smug oracle, arms crossed behind her head.

She’s practically glowing with satisfaction.

“Wait—seriously?” you say, staring at her, stunned.

“Zayne? Jealous? Of who?”

She gives you a look. “Oh, I don’t know… maybe every guy who looks at you like you hung the moon?”

You groan and drop your face into your hands again, but this time there’s laughter behind it.

Shaiya wiggles her brows. “So… are we confronting the emotionally constipated boyfriend, or do you need me to text Yvonne first and tell her to back off?”

You peek at her through your fingers. “You’re so dramatic.”

“And always right.”

You blink at her, trying to make sense of it all.

“But I haven’t been close to any—”

You freeze.

A memory flashes behind your eyes.

Last weekend.

That hour-long phone call in the kitchen, you giggling over childhood stories and shared inside jokes.

The way your voice had gone all soft, familiar.

Zayne had walked in, towel slung over his shoulder, and paused in the doorway.

You’d looked up, waved a casual “hey,” mouthed later, and turned back to the call.

You never said who it was.

Your stomach drops.

“…oh…my…god,” you whisper.

Shaiya perks up. “What?”

You turn to her slowly, horror dawning on your face.

“I think he thought I was on the phone with… another guy.”

“Well, were you?” she asks, amused.

You nod. “Yeah.”

“Who?!”

“…my brother.”

Silence.

Utter, deafening silence.

Then.

A snort.

A wheeze.

And Shaiya absolutely loses it.

“YOUR BROTHER?!” she cackles, doubling over, nearly spilling the bowl of chips onto the floor. “Zayne’s out here having a full-blown crisis over your brother?!”

You cringe. “I—I didn’t think I needed to say anything! He’s my brother!”

Through peals of laughter, she gasps, “Does Zayne even know you have a brother?!”

You open your mouth. Close it.

“…I don’t think it’s ever come up.”

That just makes it worse.

Shaiya collapses against the armrest, laughing so hard she’s wiping tears from her eyes.

“Oh my god,” she wheezes.

“You’ve been dating for how long? And you never mentioned you had a brother? He probably thinks you were on the phone with some mystery man calling you baby and roasting your high school haircut.”

You groan, dragging your hands down your face. “No wonder he’s been acting weird. He thinks I’ve been emotionally cheating on him with my sibling.”

Shaiya’s voice is barely a breath. “Zayne’s been in emotional turmoil over sibling rivalry.”

You launch a throw pillow at her. She catches it mid-laugh, wheezing still. “No. Nope. You don’t get to throw things when you’re the villain in this story.”

“I’m going to fix it,” you mutter, standing up and grabbing your phone. “I swear, I’m gonna explain everything, and then—I don’t know—slap him for not just asking.”

“And then kiss him,” Shaiya calls between giggles.

You roll your eyes, already halfway to the door. “Maybe. If he survives this.”

—•

You practically power-walk back to Zayne’s apartment, armed with righteous indignation, mild secondhand embarrassment, and the absurd realization that your emotionally repressed boyfriend has been brooding for days over your brother.

You barely knock before letting yourself in. The place is quiet—dim light filtering through the curtains, the hum of the fridge the only sound.

Then you see him, curled up on the couch like a sad, overworked burrito, wrapped in his favourite sweater, a mug of now-cold tea abandoned on the coffee table.

“Zayne,” you say, stepping into the living room.

He looks up, clearly not expecting you.

His eyes flick over your face, then back down to his lap like he’s preparing for an emotional tax audit.

“I thought you were out with Shaiya,” he mumbles.

“I was. Until I found out you’ve been sulking over my brother.”

His head snaps up with a questioning look.

You cross your arms. “You thought I was flirting with someone on the phone last week, didn’t you?”

He opens his mouth. Closes it. Tries again. “…you were laughing a lot.”

“Because it was Noah. My younger brother. The same one who used to eat crayons and thinks ‘being annoying’ is a valid love language.”

Zayne blinks. “You never said you had a brother.”

You throw your hands up. “I didn’t think I had to! He’s just… there! He’s not even interesting enough to bring up!”

Zayne stares at you like you’ve just told him you own a secret second apartment and a pet raccoon.

“You mean to tell me I’ve been—” He cuts himself off, dragging a hand down his face. “I was jealous of your sibling.”

You sit down beside him on the couch with a groan.

“Zayne. Darling. I thought you were mad at me. I’ve been spiraling.”

“I thought you were falling for someone else.”

“Who calls me princess and makes fun of my baking?”

“I thought maybe it was… a thing you two had.” He says it quietly, like he’s ashamed of the words even as they leave his mouth.

You blink. Then burst out laughing.

Zayne glares. “Don’t laugh. I was genuinely upset.”

“I’m sorry,” you say between chuckles, wiping a tear from your eye. “It’s just—you, the big, stoic surgeon, all moody and tragic… over Noah.”

His hand goes to cover his face as he sighs, “Stop.”

You lean over and kiss his cheek. “Nope. Not when I just realized how cute you are when you’re insecure.”

He turns to you, brow furrowed. “I’m not insecure.”

“You thought I was cheating with a guy who still lives with my mom and unironically wears anime socks.”

Zayne lets out another dramatic sigh. “Okay. A little insecure.”

You grin, snuggling closer. “Next time, just ask me. Before you go full tortured romantic hero on me.”

His arms wrap around you, pulling you into his chest with a warmth that says he’s missed this—missed you.

“Next time,” he says softly, “I’ll ask.”

You chuckle and poke his cheek.

Later that evening, the apartment is washed in the soft amber glow of kitchen lights, and everything feels warmer—easier.

Zayne leans against the counter, sleeves rolled up, the second cup of tea in his hand. You’re perched on the stool near him, legs swinging lazily as you sip yours.

You watch him for a moment, eyes narrowing.

“You know,” you say, voice casual, “you ditched me today.”

He raises a brow. “I did?”

You nod, exaggeratedly solemn. “You missed our officially unofficial day-off cuddle session. The one you’re so religious about that you once fake-coughed at my phone until I put it down.”

“I was… upset.”

“You were brooding,” you correct. “Like an 18th-century poet with a tragic backstory.”

He gives you a flat look. “I was not—”

“You were. I should’ve walked in and found you writing sad haikus about betrayal and heartbreak.”

He lets out a soft groan and leans forward, bracing his hands on either side of your stool to cage you in. “You’re really not going to let me live this down, are you?”

You grin up at him, smug. “Nope.”

But your voice softens as your fingers slip beneath the hem of his sweater to rest against his warm skin.

“I missed you today,” you admit. “It’s weird when you’re here, but not here.”

Zayne exhales, forehead lowering to rest against yours. “I missed you too. I just—”

“Spiraled quietly in a sweater while drinking cold tea,” you finish for him. “Classic Zayne.”

He chuckles against your mouth just before brushing a soft kiss to it. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, you love me,” you hum, looping your arms around his neck.

His eyes close for a second. “I do.”

That quiet confession settles between you like a blanket, soft and sure.

“Still,” you murmur, “you owe me extra cuddles for missing our session.”

Zayne leans in, arms wrapping around your waist as he effortlessly lifts you off the stool and carries you toward the couch.

“Fine,” he says. “All night. No escape.”

You smile into the side of his neck. “Deal.”

—•

The couch cushions are soft beneath you, familiar. Zayne pulls the blanket over both of you, shifting so you’re tucked into his side, your head resting on his chest, fingers idly tracing the lines of his shirt.

His arm wraps around you, protective and warm, and the rise and fall of his breathing begins to sync with yours.

Outside, the city hums quietly.

Inside, the world is still.

“You’re warm,” you mumble, voice already coated in drowsiness.

“I’m always warm,” Zayne replies softly, pressing a kiss to your hair. “You’re the one who’s always cold.”

“That’s because you steal all the blankets.”

“You steal all the pillows.”

You smile against his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt like you’re afraid he might slip away again.

He doesn’t move.

“I thought I upset you,” you whisper.

“I thought you didn’t need me,” he murmurs back.

You lift your head slightly to look at him. His eyes are barely open, lashes soft against his skin.

“Zayne. I need you so much it’s stupid.”

His lips twitch into a small, sleepy smile.

“I know,” he breathes, cupping the back of your head gently. “I just forgot for a second.”

You settle back down against his chest, his heartbeat a slow, steady lullaby beneath your ear.

Silence drapes over the room again—safe, quiet, and filled with everything unsaid.

“…Still mad at me?” he murmurs.

You yawn. “Only a little.”

“I’ll make it up to you.”

“Mm. You’d better. I demand waffles.”

He chuckles, barely a sound, already slipping further into sleep.

He gives a slow nod. “Waffles.”

You smile, drifting.

And just before sleep takes you completely, you hear him whisper, almost inaudibly,

“I love you.”

You don’t answer right away—too tired, too full.

But your fingers tighten slightly in his shirt. And that’s enough.

For now.

Morning arrives in golden streaks across the curtains, soft light spilling over tangled blankets and the quiet rise and fall of Zayne’s chest beneath your cheek.

You blink awake slowly, unwilling to move. He’s still asleep—or so you think—until his fingers start lazily combing through your hair.

“You’re awake,” you mumble, voice scratchy.

“I’ve been awake,” he says quietly. “I just didn’t want to move.”

You smile against him. “Comfortable?”

“Very.”

You tilt your head up.

His glasses are on the side table, and his eyes—clear and soft—are already watching you.

He looks so relaxed, hair a little messy, sweater still on from last night. It’s rare, seeing him like this. Unwound. Home.

“I dreamed you made me waffles,” you say, stretching with a quiet groan.

Zayne hums. “That wasn’t a dream.”

You blink. “Wait, what?”

He nudges you up gently and stands, stretching with a quiet yawn. “I woke up an hour ago. Thought I’d try and keep my promises.”

You trail him into the kitchen like a curious cat, rubbing sleep from your eyes.

And there it is. Actual waffles. A little uneven, one slightly darker than the others, but undeniably real. A bottle of syrup. Sliced fruit in a bowl. Two mugs of coffee—yours already fixed the way you like it.

You stare.

“You cooked.”

“I followed instructions,” he corrects. “From you, technically. I just recalled all the times you yelled at me for flipping too early.”

You blink again, touched and somewhere between impressed and incredibly endeared.

“You made waffles because I teased you about missing our cuddle session?”

Zayne shrugs, placing a plate in front of you. “I like making you happy.”

You sit down, taking a bite—and hum in satisfaction. “They’re actually good.”

“I’m offended by your surprise.”

You give him a sleepy smile. “I just didn’t have ‘Zayne cooking breakfast without setting something on fire’ on my bingo card.”

He quirks a brow as he sits across from you. “Keep talking and next time, you’re getting burnt toast.”

You giggle, and he smiles—not a rare smile, but one of those soft ones he only ever seems to wear around you.

“Thanks,” you say after a beat, sincere now. “For the waffles. And for everything else.”

His foot nudges yours under the table.

“You’re welcome,” he says softly.

And for the first time in a week, there’s no tension. No doubt. Just you, him, warm waffles, and morning sunlight dancing on quiet promises kept.

—•

You had warned Zayne, of course. Gave him the whole speech—He’s annoying, don’t rise to it, yes, he’s going to make fun of you, no, he’s not serious, he just does this to literally everyone.

Zayne, in his usual calm, reserved way, simply nodded. “Got it.”

But now he’s standing by your side at the café table as Noah slides into the booth across from you, wearing a smug smile and an oversized hoodie that says Certified Menace.

Zayne blinks. Noah blinks back.

You blink between them, already regretting everything.

“So,” Noah says slowly, eyes narrowing like he’s inspecting a specimen under a microscope. “You’re the Zayne.”

Zayne gives a small nod. “And you’re the brother I apparently lost sleep over.”

You make a choking noise over your iced coffee.

Noah grins, delighted. “Ohhh, this is going to be fun.”

You bury your face in your hands. “Please don’t start.”

But it’s too late. Noah leans forward, eyes glittering with amusement. “Tell me, Zayne. On a scale from ‘mild panic’ to ‘full emotional breakdown,’ how badly did you spiral thinking I was your competition?”

Zayne, to your absolute horror, doesn’t flinch. “Somewhere between tragic novel protagonist and Shakespearean fool.”

Noah lets out a wheeze, slaps the table, and beams. “Okay, I like you.”

You look between them like you’ve accidentally set the universe on fire. “I hate this. I hate both of you.”

Noah winks at you. “You didn’t tell me he was funny.”

Zayne shrugs, sipping his coffee. “You didn’t tell me he was relentless.”

“I did,” you mutter. “Multiple times.”

Noah leans back, nodding. “Alright. You pass.”

“Pass what?” Zayne asks.

“The vibe check. The ‘Is-He-Good-Enough-For-My-Sister’ test.” He gestures vaguely with his straw. “You’re calm, you’ve got decent taste in coats, and you made her waffles, so… yeah. You’re fine.”

Zayne raises an eyebrow. “Is that all?”

Noah grins. “That, and the fact that she hasn’t stopped smiling since she walked in with you.”

Your breath catches.

Zayne turns to look at you then, expression softening almost immediately.

Noah sighs, pretending to gag. “Ugh. Gross. Okay, I’m leaving before you two start making heart eyes over your muffins.”

You kick him lightly under the table. “You’re the worst.”

He ruffles your hair as he stands. “And yet, you still love me.”

Zayne watches him go, then turns to you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“I can’t believe I was jealous of him.”

You lean your head on his shoulder, grinning. “I can. But now you’ve met him, and survived. Proud of you.”

He hums. “Is there a badge for that?”

You reach into your bag and slap a novelty sticker on his chest that says “I survived Noah”—you brought it as a joke.

Zayne just looks down at it and nods seriously.

“Hard-earned.”

masterlist

[clairerosetarot]

PICK A PIC! Your Future Spouse’s Kinks | 18+ 💦

Also: Don’t give to much meaning to the words in parenthesis, they are just used to specify which gif is which, try to focus on the feeling instead! 🤭🧘‍♀️

Well hello there guys!!!! I’m so sorry that I took so long to get back, March is really kicking my 🍑 lol. Anyways I’m back and wont take a break again for quite a while I hope. :) Let’s get started with the reading.

Decks Used: Rider-Waite and The Golden Future (oracle) by Diana Cooper

Pile 1 🌊

Cards: The Lovers, Illuminated Light, Family Relationships.

Wow, This is really interesting Pile 1! I’ve never really heard of this before but it seems like your partner has enveloped sexual energy with a light, almost healing, loving one. I believe they have a ‘love kink’ is that even a thing? lol 😆 Or perhaps a mutual praise kink. Showering you with expensive gifts and travels too. I swear I had a pile similar to this in my last reading so if you picked that as well then this is definitely for you.

I feel like your partner didn’t have all the love in their household available to them growing up. Maybe their parents were divorced, or just always away for work. They saw this and wanted things to be different, imagined a life for themselves where they marry who they really love and shower them in it everyday. If their parents weren’t divorced then maybe they just come from a culture where showing love outwardly isn’t expressed and they felt like a black sheep for wanting that. They want to engage in extreme sensory pleasures with you, pile 1. No pain, just pleasure is what i’m hearing. Massage oil, feathering touches and caresses in between soft kisses, chocolate honey and strawberries (Food is coming through here - could be a Taurus ♉️), maybe some flavored lube lmao 🤣 They are sort of cracking me up with this and if you are a sort of ‘bossy’ type of person and having trouble receiving such affection I get that, but they will also make you feel good AF!! “Just lay back and left me try to make you squirt” Is what i’m hearing LMAOO they are kinda freaky but wrap it in such love and respect they hold for you. If you were expecting hard bondage and slapping i’m sorry my dears, this person probably doesn’t get that but will do it to make you happy i’m hearing.

Overall Your future spouse will love you in the most tender and heartfelt way! You’ll feel adored, cherished, and supported every single day. The future looks bright and full of love! 💕🌟

Hope that brings a smile to your face!

Pile 2 🌊

Cards: The Star (why so many major arcana already lol I think my readers rate attracting some big time freaks 🥵), The Waters of the Planet, The Super Love Portal, The emperor jumped out also.

Okay, can somebody say dom?? Even if you are to wed a women pile 2, your future spouse will be dominating AF. They might like to hear you cry Mommy/Daddy for them 🫣. You guys are the type of couple that falls into these roles very easily in bed ( or elsewhere 😏) and keeps it up until old age. Big “old couple grinding on each at the nursing home” energy here lmao. They will also have a voyeurism kink, I think they are little too possessive to actually have s*x in front of other people, but perhaps letting others know in a sneaky way by leaving hickeys on your neck or scratches on your back.

You know how some people are subjected at work by their boss so they become dominant in bed? Well, your future spouse is the opposite. They have a dominant almost domineering presence at work and a loving, but also just as firm role in s*x. They could be an ENTJ, i’m not good with mbti but they fit that vibe. As for signs i’m getting Scorpio or Capricorn energy, not necessarily their sign just the energy they have. I feel like this person is cold to certain people, especially at their job, however when it comes to you, let’s just say they indulge in you in extra special treatment. You definitely get pretty princess treatment with them, that’s how you’ll know they’re the one! But be careful pile 2 as if you are not used to this treatment it will attract jealousy. My advice is to mediate and communicate well together outside the bedroom since your chemistry is so electric within it. 😉❤️‍🔥

Overall Your future spouse will be a strong, dominant, and confident person, but their love for you will be equally strong and full of devotion. They will protect, lead, and support you in ways that make you feel safe, loved, and empowered. Together, you’ll conquer the world! 🌍💪

Hope this reading resonates with you! 🌟

Pile 3 🌊

Cards: Page of Wands, Our Beautiful Planet, The 12 Chakras,

Let me set the scene for you my pile 3s: you can tell your partner is a little nervous, they don’t give themselves to just anyone. They are sensitive, sweet, smart and highly spiritual. You two get close and you ask them lightheartedly flirting what they like in bed. Still their cheeks warm just thinking about it. They muster the courage themselves to tell you; Making you c*m with me.

Pile 3, your future spouse is definitely the shy and sensitive type. The type you want to bring home to your mother and keeps an open mind about all your tarot-loving hippy dippy stuff. They feel bad about it, they really do, but when you’re around looking the way you look to them, they think of nothing else but making you c*m. I think they will have a kundalini awakening with you that causes this. When you to come together… and c*m together, it feels earth shattering and universally orgasmic. 🤤

I almost don’t want to say to much in comparison to the other piles because of what a sweet soul they are, but they could be bullied in the past and that causes them to have a lot of empathy or others, especially for women. Unlike many they want to know how to make a woman reach her climax and they get off more on that sometimes than taking. I’ll leave you on that delightful note to ponder, pile 3.

Your future spouse will be a warm, sensitive soul, giving all their love and care to you. Their deep emotional connection will make you feel safe and loved, and they’ll always put effort into making your relationship flourish. Together, you’ll build a beautiful, loving life. 💖🌟

I hope this reading fills you with love and positivity! 🌷✨

—

That’s all y’all! See you next time, and remember if it don’t apply let it fly!

[euphoria-looney]

Credits to the idea:

Batfam X Neglected Reader ( Squid Games)

Creds to the dividers: (?)

The Winner Takes It All by ABBA

When do humans get so desperate they give up their own lives for that small chance of money?

Money is a category in your history class dedicated to why money is the basis of your life. Economy.

I first witnessed someone leave everything had for money, my mother. When I was 5, I didn't know why my mother was leaving the manor with a huge suitcase, filled with cash.

My mother engaged to Bruce Wayne who only allowed her in as they procreated me. In her words, both sides should take responsibility, it takes two to tango, and why should she be the only one to deal with the consequences.

Which now is very hypocritical as she ran away taking everything but me.

I didn't want sympathy, but I didn't want to be treated like dirt for a mistake I didn't make.

For the next 13 years of my life, I tried to stay on the down low, no matter how many dirty looks, and the insults, not even when Damian would hurt me.

I just hoped they wouldn't mind if I stayed with them a little longer until I could find a stable way to leave.

That hope burst when Alfred came to my room and told me “Master Bruce has decided to kick you out and disown you, I'm so sorry, [name].”

I tried to somehow make it, promising myself, it was going to be okay.

I got into college, and the debt collected from that was massive, so I had to go get loans at the bank, and then get into a part-time job, but every day seemed like we were always getting robbed. My manager had no choice but to let me go.

“I'm sorry, sugar, but we aren't pulling in enough customers and I can't afford to keep too many employees, there's no easy way to say this but, you have to quit. I don't want to fire you, it'd look bad for any job you'd apply for next.”

I held onto her hand like a lifeline I begged and pleaded with no avail.

I tucked my tail in and went to the Wayne manor.

"Um, It's [name], could I... um..." I swallowed my words, afraid to say them, I mean, this was humiliating, 13 years since I'd seen them and the first thing I asked for was cash? "... borrow some money."

No surprise I was rejected, but that didn't hurt me it was the comments, how I was so much like my mother.

I waddled to the train station, if I was lucky, the train wouldn't be hijack or filled with gas tonight.

"Hey, you want to earn some money?" A guy next to me.

"No, thank you."

"10,000 dollars. Just a child's game"

I lifted my head to stare at him. I couldn't see his face, hidden behind a mask.

"It's a Korean game, visited it a few days ago, so would you mind playing it with me?" He gave an authoritative vibe, it made me want to back away, his aura was sinister.

I had already hit rock bottom, what could be lower? I hesitantly nodded my head.

I don't know how many times I lost, but I finally did it!

Handing me the cash and then handing me this weird card.

"If you ever need more, contact us." with that he walked away.

Third POV

“B, are you sure this is the right spot?”

‘Positive. Are you sure you want to join on this mission, Dick.”

Despite what anyone might think Batman, otherwise known as Bruce Wayne cares and loves his kids.

Changing into suits and golden animal masks, they went to the VIP room, make some bets on random numbers.

Oracle was doing the background work, hacking into everything, it wasn't like the movies and the stress was on.

The court of Owls was not just one villain working but a cult that was not only wealthy but influential, with their own members, called Talons who were armed and ready.

On the screen 456 players appeared.

“Today, we have prepared the game red light, green light. A child game.” The frontman introduced the V.I.P’s at the start of the first round.

[name]’s POV:

Waking up, the clothes I was originally wearing changed into the tracksuit outfit with a number on it.

A person caught my eye, it’s Astro! From the law department, I couldn’t help but approach him.

“What are you doing here?” Word got around that he was an academic genius, and many had hope for his bright future.

I could only remember how fond his mother was when talking about him, I thought I saw her the other day working.

“Oh, [name]. It’s been a while hasn’t it? What are you doing here?” He dodged the question.

“I… couldn’t afford college and took out a loan, eventually I got a lot of debt.” Our conversation got cut short as we headed to this random room.

Going to this machine it said ‘smile’

I gave a gummy like smile before making my way to the field

Playing red light, green light.

After explaining the rules everyone started running, nothing was wrong until a person got spotted moving during the red light, poor guy, going home penniless after making it here-

Spat

Oh.

There’s blood on my shoes.

It was like a stampede of people running to the door, stacking on top of each other. I was frozen out of fear.

Wha-

What do I do?

I’m afraid.

Someone tell me, what do I do?!

Before I knew it, I made it to the end.

Third POV:

Thankfully no one found the bat family suspicious or they would’ve noticed how they tensed up seeing as their daughter/sibling had the first contestant’s blood splattered not only on her shoes but also on her clothes.

A break had ensued as the game was over and everyone made their way to their individual rooms.

“What are they doing there?!”

“Should we stop it now?!”

“How?!”

“Quiet down!” Bruce had stopped the panic, but in reality he, himself didn’t know what to do either.

[name]’s POV:

Going back to the room, I felt like a doll and everyone sat on the floor.

The sickening feeling of seeing the gold lighting illuminating the clear pig, with money dropping down into it.

I could feel my stomach drop just thinking about it.

I didn't know what was happening until Astro got up and rebutted the guards.

“Clause three, The games may be terminated upon a majority vote, right?”

Thankfully, ending this sick and twisted game.

That didn’t last long though as a day had passed and I was back in this building. I think everyone who left was.

I talked to new people, especially this one old man who reminded me of Alfred.

“I could say the same to you. You’re young, and your debt is lower than most people here, so why continue risking your life for this money?” I shook my head, my face holding a sad smile.

“No matter how hard I try I just keep gaining then losing debt. But it’s different for you sir. Doesn’t the government give insurance and medicare for the elderly?” I held his hands in mine.

“The government isn’t as nice as you think, corrupt up in their high-paying jobs, but still greedy for more.”

As the games ensued I could feel myself deteriorate.

Third POV

Gripping onto the couch arms, and bouncing off one's feet could symbolize when someone is... anxious.

Or it could be showing anticipation.

So let's pretend that's what Bruce Wayne is feeling right now.

And if we asked his opinion on number ###, [name] [lastname]...

Most people would think, "Yes, he must be anticipating her death, how the blood would splatter, whether it be from losing a game or betrayal from another contestant." That's what most people would think of that entire family.

How could you not?

They shamed her, bullied her, and scorned her away from their home.

Wouldn't even provide financial aid much less.

Isn't that why she's here in the first place?

It was like they wanted her to grovel and die, die a death that would have no meaning, not even to this unforgiving world.

However, you'd be shocked that's not correct.

Anxiety is a scary thing it makes you make rash decisions. Good or bad.

It was nothing new to these vigilantes.

But oh. seeing her tired eyes, sweat dripping down everywhere, from her head to her legs. Her trembling form.

If you didn't know the context you'd already think she was a corpse.

No! That's wouldn't couldn't be true.

They couldn't allow it to be, she was going to be safe.

She had to be.

She was forgotten, but now, everyone's eyes were on her.

Anxiety is a scary thing, and with the current event, situation, there was nothing they could do but hope for the best, bounce their legs, and grip the couch.

-

It’s time for the next game.

“For this game we’ll be playing the marble game.”

—

There will be 2 endings choose which one. (I'll be making both.)

-> Thank you… for playing with me.

-> Astro!

Also, I love the idea and from fic from both @jellyfishmoon97 and @not-weirdoshrek

@holysoulsweets @sh4rk-k1d @sillysealsies @loomspuddle @cantfindmelol @alwaysholymilkshake @leitor-sonolento (I think these are all the ones that wanted to get tagged idk though 😍)

[deadsetobsessions]

Woo! I’ve finally got time to write! Had to go to a wedding, suffered through eight whole hours of pure disorganized mess, and got mad about it. Emphasis on the disorganized part. So, I bring you: party planner!Danny Phantom.

——

If anyone was to see him now, they’d definitely think that it was odd that Danny was the one in the party planning field. They wouldn’t be surprised if it was Jazz, but Danny ‘wing it’ Fenton planning things? Never.

But here he was, clipboard in hand and checking off hors d’œuvres from the list.

“Anton, could you do a check of the sound system? Make sure everything’s working?”

“Got it.”

Danny lifted the buffet table, laden with heavy food, and used a bit of his ghostly strength to move it over.

“Perfect.”

He double checked the seating chart, and readjusted the miniature ice sculpture centerpieces he made for the party.

Wayne Manor was all lit up and perfectly dusted. Danny ran through his mental checklist. Tabled? Check. Dance floor clean and scuff free? Check. DJ booth and open bar running without issues? Check. Live band setting up with back up instruments and strings? Check. Decorations on point? Oh, he’ll have to get the team to readjust those.

Time to check-

“Danny! How’s it going?” Bruce Wayne beamed and slung an arm around his shoulder.

Danny smiled politely. “Mr. Wayne. Everything is going smoothly. Would you like to check the food the chefs have made?”

“Sure, sure! I definitely need to eat before I drink, haha!”

“That’s a good idea! Good thing you’re about to try a bunch of food.” Danny matched the billionaire’s energy. He’s going to get paid so good.

“So, Danny, are you going to college?”

Danny passed him a small sampler. “Ah, I can’t. Some stuff happened in high school and I don’t really have the grades or the money to.”

Plus, his credentials were in another plane of existence and he hadn’t figured out how to transfer those records yet.

“You could still attend college, I’m sure! Your parents might be able to help pay?” Bruce nommed on the food. He gave a thumbs up.

Danny sighed. “It’s not always an option. Plus, my parents are dead.”

In this universe. His own? Alive and kicking GIW ass.

“Oh, I see-”

“Father.”

“Woah!” Danny blinked, looking down at the baby Wayne the popped up next to his father’s elbow.

“Damian! What’s wrong, kiddo?”

Damian shot his father a flat glare and dragged the laughing billionaire away.

Danny snorted and returned to his tasks. He has to check the speeches and the lighting. Hm… he doesn’t have time to adjust everything how he wants it.

Good thing he knew a guy that could stop time.

“Hey, Clockwork?”

——

“Father, I understand your inclination towards adopting poor black haired and blue eyed orphans, but I would like to remind you that I have far too many siblings to be adding yet another bumbling buffoon.”

“I was not considering that, Damian.”

Damian let go of his wrist with a grimace. “Denial is not becoming of a Wayne, Father.”

“Yeah, B. I could see you grab the adoption papers from all the way over here.” Tim adjusted his tie. “Anyways, Dick is on his way. He’s running a little late because of some stuff in Blüdhaven.”

“Thank you, Tim.”

——

“Batman.”

“Oracle.”

“Look at the footage of Wayne manor.” Oracle pulled up the video surveillance scattered through out the manor. Specifically, the ones of the west ballroom. Daniel Fenton stood in his spot, looking down at his clipboard but a second later, he's moved three inches to the left and the decorations had subtly been moved more aesthetic spots. "I think Danny might be a meta. We'll have to look into him."

Batman stood up, allowing the fondness he had for Danny as Bruce Wayne drain away. This is a potential threat, and Batman will treat him like one. (Danny will remember this.)

"Contact Flash. I need him to scan for any temporal disturbance."

"Understood."

——

"Brucie!" A socialite squealed as she came to bestow hugs upon a long suffering Bruce. "My god, this place is gorgeous! You must give me your planner's number. I could absolutely use some fresh eyes for the Annual Spring Party."

"Awe, Janine! I gotta keep some of the good things to myself!" Bruce whined, inwardly smirking as he saw his kids mock-gagging behind the lady's back. "What if your party's cooler than mine? What should I do then? You're already so gorgeous! Why, is that a Birkin?"

Janine lit up and all but forgot about getting Danny's contact information. Bruce patted his own back for a job well done, even if he had to listen to Janine's itemized list of random luxury goods she had to buy before being offered a bag.

He's a Wayne. The Gotham Hermes wished they could partner with the Waynes. Plus, he's pretty sure he's got at least three of those bags somewhere in the manor to bait out Selina.

Catching Danny sliding in between the servers and going towards the kitchen, Bruce quickly excused himself with a disarming himbo grin.

Time to subtly grill the kid.

——

"Hey, Timmy?"

"Hello, Dick," Tim smiled elegantly at the couple who's companies he was about to bring six feet underground and excused himself. "What's up?"

"Have you noticed that the ice sculptures haven't melted at all?"

Tim blinked, eyes sliding over to a harried Danny being followed by Bruce on a mission. Oof.

"Freeze?" He asked mildly, face innocent of any nefarious thoughts.

"That's what I'm thinking." Dick smiled sunnily, throwing an arm around Tim's shoulders.

"Heard the guy's living out near Crime Alley. We should get Jay to check it out." Tim pretended to laugh, grinning as his brains made plans for a stakeout.

"Heard, my ass. You totally stalked him, didn't you?"

"Got proof?"

Dick snorted, removing his arm. "Nope. I'll let Jay know. You should probably help Danny out, though, he looks like he's about to lose his temper."

"Bruce is at it again." Tim sighed. "Yeah, okay."