#first paragraph of this. extremely real today

[dykeiero]

from outpunk #1 via the riot grrrl collection

[candylix]

blow my mind | bang chan

Pairing • Chan x GN!Reader Summary • You have a test today and you haven't studied at all, but you're not worried. Why? Because you have the ability to read minds, and you'll be sitting next to the smartest guy in class. Unfortunately, his thoughts have strayed from the test and into very dirty territory. Genre • college au, smut, fluff WC • 1.7k Content • no pronouns used but reader does have a vagina, mind reading, dirty thoughts about: hand holding 🥰, public sex, fingering, dry humping, unprotected piv penetration, orgasm denial. Indented paragraphs indicate what's happening in his mind and not real life.

Ethically, reading minds is a very dubious subject. As far as you know, you're the only person in the world with supernatural abilities. No one would ever know you're reading their mind, but you have high enough standards for yourself to only use your mind reading capabilities in emergencies.

This was an emergency.

You have a test today, and didn't study. But, you do have a plan. You are going to sit beside one of your classmates and cheat.

You walk into the lecture hall, and scan the room. The class is arranged with tier seating and long tables, and as you work your eyes around the room, you spot him at the very top. You've had a few projects with Chan before, so you know how intelligent he is. You've talked a lot more over the course of the semester, so it wouldn't be weird to sit beside him.

"Ready for the test?" you ask, approaching the table he's sitting at.

He looks up at you and smiles.

"I hope so, I've been cramming all night for this. You?"

"Nope." You grin and give him a thumbs up, pulling out the chair next to him and taking a seat.

"Glad to see you're confident," he laughs.

The rest of the class trudges in, and the test begins.

First thing you write is your name. Easy enough.

You concentrate on Chan, and peer into his mind. He's reading the first question, and after a few minutes of words formulating in his brain, he writes down an answer. You always found it interesting to see how different people think, and Chan's thoughts are muddied as he tries to answer the questions. But when he figures out an answer, everything comes into total focus.

You rewrite his answers on your paper, making sure to use different words. As much as you dislike doing it, this isn't your first time cheating on a test like this, so you know how to not get caught.

A particularly tricky question is next, and you can see his thoughts wander from the test, to the class, to... you. You see yourself in his imagination.

He's daydreaming. This is not good, you need him to focus on the test.

You think about tuning into someone else's mind, but you're captured by what he imagines.

He reaches out his hand, gently placing it over yours. He squeezes it lightly.

You have to look at your hand to make sure it wasn't real. His imagination is extremely vivid. You see movement out of the corner of your eye, which turns out to be Chan shaking his head. Just like that, the image disappears and he's back to thinking about the question.

What was that?

You don't have time to ponder what that could mean when he starts writing down his answer, and you have to quickly catch up to him before he stops thinking about it.

The next question also seems to be giving him trouble, because he stops to think about it for a long time. Eventually, he drifts off into another daydream. He imagines the classroom again, and himself scooting his chair next to you. The version of you in his imagination rests your head on his shoulder. It's very cute, all things considered.

Then it dawns on you. He has a crush on you.

Well isn't that just adorable. It would be cuter if he would just get back to the test before you both fail.

He turns his head to look at you, resting peacefully on his shoulder. He smiles and leans in to kiss you.

Your fingers instinctively brush your lips. It's not rare for people to have vivid sensory imaginations, but you almost never get a tactile experience from your power. He must be imagining the feeling of touching you, enough that you feel it through him.

If only he had Aphantasia, and not the worlds strongest imagination. You don't think either of you will be passing this test.

He moves his hand from on top of yours to caressing your thigh. Then, it moves closer to the waistband of your pants-

You cough loudly, breaking his focus. The image disappears in an instant. You see the muddied words coming back, and he's finally thinking about the test again.

You can feel heat rising to your cheeks. Was he imagining what you think he was imagining?

He has been stuck on this question for a while, so you probably wont find anyone else in class who's still working on it. And even if you could, you'd have to check the minds of the entire class. You're stuck peeping in Chan's mind if you want to possibly pass the test.

It's feels a bit strange to be the subject of Chan's romantic fantasies, but not in a bad way. He's handsome, kind, smart, funny in an awkward kind of way that you've always found charming...

You've never thought about him that way before. But knowing how he feels, you'll definitely be thinking about him now.

You realize you're starting to drift off the same way Chan was, and go back to concentrating on your cheating scheme.

Luckily, he's focused on the right subject now, and he flies through the answers. He's almost too fast, and you have to leave some answers half done in order to keep pace. Hopefully you'll still get half a mark for those ones.

You're on the last question now. He takes some time to read and reread the question, and when he starts to think of an answer, he goes back and reads the question one more time. You're worried, the tricky questions are when he starts to nod off.

He rests his head on his hand and his mind wanders back to his imagination. At this point, you think you should just try to answer the question yourself, but your mind freezes when he continues where he left off.

His hand moves up your thigh, and between your legs. He rubs you over the fabric of your pants, but the friction is enough to feel your core start to pulse. You start moaning involuntarily, and Chan smirks to himself. 'Quiet, we're still in class' he whispers. He pretends to keep writing with one hand, while the other slips into your pants. You're not wearing underwear, so he can easily move his fingers to circle your clit. You cover your mouth with your fist to stifle a moan. The pace is slow, but you're able to pretend to be working while he works his fingers. You find yourself mindlessly rocking into him. He increases his speed, and you feel your orgasm building while you try to suppress another moan. Your head leans back as you buck into his hand, and you feel yourself about to- Suddenly, his fingers stop. Your core is still throbbing, but he takes his hand out of your pants. You look at him pleadingly, and he pats his lap for you to sit on. You look around the classroom. Everyone is too focused on their tests to notice you getting up. You stand to straddle him, and before you can sit down, he unbuttons your pants and pulls them down. If anyone turned around to look, they would see him groping your ass. He guides you down to sit on his lap, and you feel his bulge prodding against your folds. "Finish yourself on me," he whispers. You try to turn your head to see if anyone's watching, but he stops you. "Just look at me. Don't worry about anyone else." Nervously, you rub yourself on his bulge, and even under the fabric you can feel how hard he is. When you feel your orgasm building up again, you forget about the possibility of anyone seeing and hump him harder. His clothed dick against your bare cunt clouds your mind, and you try to get as much friction against him as you can. You buck into him faster, and you feel him getting harder as he starts to rock against you. You feel yourself about to cum again, but he lifts you up onto the desk and lays you on your back. "Chan, please," you whine. You can't take this anymore, and you rub your legs together to feel any sort of release. He pulls your legs apart, opening your soaking wet pussy to the world. Before you can even complain, his pants are down, and his massive cock is throbbing against your entrance. He easily slides himself into you, and you feel him moving up your walls. He fills you up completely, staying there for a moment before pulling out and slamming himself right back in. He rams into you, hitting your sweet spot. His hand is back on your clit, rubbing circles while he continues his ruthless pace with his cock pounding in and out of your throbbing core. He slams into you faster and faster as he chases his own high, losing control as his body acts on instinct. You're almost at your limit, and you feel your orgasm about to peak-

"Time's up everyone! Turn in your tests," the professor announces to the class.

You feel your core pulsing as you snap back to reality. Your heart is beating loudly in your chest, and you realize none of that was real, despite it being incredibly vivid. Somehow, you lost yourself in his fantasy.

You look over to Chan, and notice his erection as he quickly writes something down for the last question. You look back to your own test, and see the empty space where you should've wrote your answer. You have no idea what to write. You don't even remember what the question was.

All you remember was Chan pounding into you at a brutal pace.

You look back to Chan as he stands, and when he makes eye contact, his cheeks turn red and he looks away. He hurriedly stuffs all his things into his bag and speed walks down the steps.

If you want to pass this class, you can never sit next to him again. You definitely should never read his mind again.

However... you do want to know what else he's thinking about when you're near him.

And you really want to know what he's like outside of his imagination.

EPILOGUE:

Two weeks later, your test scores are posted to the schools website. You click on the link to see how you did. As it loads in, you wait with baited breath.

You failed the test.

A/N: I hope someone went to look up what Aphantasia was, and suddenly everything made sense in their life when they realized they have it. And they have to live their life knowing that an incredibly important part of their worldview and way of thinking was discovered by reading a kpop x reader smut fic.

read part two here!

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

In Sickness and In Health

Synopsis: You fall ill while Childe's away, and while he might care about the Fatui’s missions, Foul Legacy doesn’t.

Foul Legacy Childe x Reader Pronouns: Gender Neutral (no pronouns mentioned) Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff Warnings: Being sick, mentions of pain, headaches, and difficulty breathing, worry, general suffering

~ * ~ As a Fatuus, Childe is often away from you. It’s his duty as the Eleventh Harbinger to carry out orders, completing missions in the name of the Tsaritsa while training young, eager recruits to grow into another member of Snezhnaya’s pride and joy. This he explained to you, over and over, before you had even begun to consider him more than a friend. He was so nervous at first, scared you would reject him, disgusted by his status as a Harbinger. It’s only when you finally moved to silently slip your hand into his that his voice faltered and trailed into silence, lips twisting in uncertainty before lifting into a relieved grin when you gave him a smile full of understanding. Since then the constant, nervous reminders of his position have faded away, replaced by dates of absences and return, one mission after another. It breaks his heart to be away so much, but you always wave off his apologies- his home isn’t the Harbor; it never has been, and as long as he returns, you’ll be alright. And yet no matter how dire the circumstances, Childe would always leave you with a kiss on the forehead and a whispered promise to spend time with you when he returns- anything you like, whether that be dinner, travel, or simply a walk. You’d always laugh and playfully hit his shoulder, unable to do any real damage. He knows what you want, you choose it every time, as the comforting arms of his Foul Legacy form around you are incomparable to anything else, the knowledge that Foul Legacy adores you as much as Childe does ensuring you a good night's sleep after weeks of worry. It makes him smile, seeing how much you love his Abyssal form. He wasn’t even aware Foul Legacy could feel emotions such as love, but the constant, rumbling purr in the back of his mind whenever you’re nearby says otherwise, and his hand briefly rests in your hair before he’s forced to pull away. You’re there when he boards the ship to his destination, smiling and waving goodbye, and his subordinates swear they see the famed Tartaglia’s eyes sparkle as he waves back to his dearest secret standing on the shore. Childe’s only joy in the coming weeks are the letters you send, detailing your normal, mundane life as well as how much you miss him. It’s the only time he genuinely smiles, normally confident smirk gone from his face as an agent hands him a letter almost daily, although they’ve been sparser lately. He opens today’s letter eagerly, making sure not to tear the paper, but his expression morphs into one of confusion when he sees the short, terse paragraph in elegant writing. Zhongli, it must be- Childe knows that script anywhere- and his dull eyes widen in horror as he reads the message. You’re sick. Extremely sick. Zhongli’s been tending to you for a few days, but your fever refuses to go down and the only thing you say when awake is how much everything hurts, mumbling Childe’s name whenever you slip into uneasy dreams. Zhongli assures him that he’ll do his best to take care of and hopefully lift you out of sickness before Childe returns, but that doesn’t prevent his stomach from twisting into a knot of guilt as he thinks of you suffering without him by your side. Foul Legacy whines in his head, to the point Childe can almost see the Abyssal beast curling his claws anxiously as he urges the Harbinger to return home, wherever you are. Childe grits his teeth as he folds Zhongli’s letter; obviously he’d love to go back to the Harbor, but his duties have taken him across the sea, miles away from you, and even if he could go back he wouldn’t dare leave his duties and reveal you as his beloved- the mere thought of the danger you’d be in sends a shiver down his spine. Foul Legacy’s whines turn to hisses, repeatedly insisting to go home, go back, go HELP! And Childe throws his hands up in frustration. “I can’t!” He says aloud, trying to placate the monster clawing at the edges of his mind while his own thoughts race with worry for you. Foul Legacy falls silent, and for a moment Childe thinks he’s won the argument, before he hears a sudden, deadly growl. If you won’t, then I will. There’s barely time to blink before Foul Legacy assumes control of their shared body, inhaling the crisp air and flexing his talons. Without a backward glance he leaves, star-speckled wings spreading and catching the seaborn wind. The agents will awaken to their Harbinger missing, but Foul Legacy doesn’t care- the Fatui’s petty problems are unimportant compared to your pain. His haste is so great that he reaches Liyue Harbor just as the sun is setting, touching down carefully outside your back door to avoid the late-afternoon Millelith. The door’s unlocked, a foreign scent leading inside, and with a growl Foul Legacy enters your home, gaze landing on Zhongli who whirls around in shock. The ex-Archon exhales in relief when he sees Foul Legacy, moving aside to reveal your frail body curled on a bed, fingers clenching the sheets in discomfort. A frantic cry tears itself from Foul Legacy’s throat, rushing past Zhongli to kneel by your side, claws hovering over you, unsure where to place themselves. Zhongli pats his shoulder, trying to reassure the Abyssal monster, and the commotion shakes you from slumber and into unsteady wakefulness, dazedly looking at your love. This must be a dream, it has to be. Childe’s somewhere overseas, completing his latest task for the Tsaritsa; he shouldn’t be back for weeks. And yet, Foul Legacy stares at you, crystalline eye flooded with concern as his whines dip, with some effort, to gentle purrs and he slowly extends a hand to you. “Legacy…” You catch one of his claws in a weak grip, fingers wrapping loosely around the talon before falling back to the mattress, and Foul Legacy whimpers at your lack of strength. Archons, you’re so frail- just how long had you been suffering before Zhongli wrote to him? His hand brushes against your forehead, only to immediately recoil when your skin burns with sickening warmth, far beyond a healthy range. Your eyes flutter shut, too exhausted to stay awake but comforted by the presence of the one you hold dear. Foul Legacy watches you drift into an uneasy sleep, absentmindedly playing with your hair. His touch calms your fevered dreams, and soon your features relax into an expression more peaceful than Zhongli’s seen in days. Legacy’s gentle coos turn to a low hiss as he turns to face the funeral consultant, keeping his claws gentle but his glare steady and pointing at you with his other hand. “Fix. Help. Heal.” And Zhongli simply nods, moving to fetch today’s dose of medication. When he returns, Foul Legacy has curled around your body, cradling your head against his chest and holding your limp hands. The room fills with soft, soothing purrs, refusing to pause even when Zhongli tilts your chin upwards so you swallow the bitter medicine. It tastes like mint and ginger in your dreams, and you nearly spit it out, but the gentle hand petting your hair urges you not to as you lapse back into slumber. From then on Foul Legacy never leaves your side. Day and night he tends to you, comforting your twisted dreams and giving you medicine and making you drink water, when he can. More often than not you feel his cool talons settle on your cheeks and forehead to stave off the heat, and in the fleeting moments you’re awake you can make out his figure keeping you company, claws wrapped around your hands and wings laying over your body like gauzy blankets. His routine is to care for you and nothing less, directed by the vague memories of when Childe’s own siblings were ill, and even when Zhongli stops by, the Abyssal monster refuses to leave you. In a way, Zhongli’s grateful- surprised, yes, but also grateful for the help. He could already see how your condition improved simply by having Foul Legacy tend to you, your breaths coming out easier and sleep being far more peaceful. When you’re in pain, Foul Legacy is too- and on nights when your head feels like it’s splitting open from agony and you can do nothing but cry, he cries with you, attempting to coo and reassure you only to break out into full sobs at the sight of your suffering. But such nights become few and far between the longer he stays, and soon he sleeps the starlit hours away alongside you, the need for constant supervision diminished. He’s napping by your side the day you wake up, tired but lucid, and cup his cheeks in your hands. Foul Legacy jolts awake with a surprised chirp, staring at you like he can’t really believe that you’re here, awake with your consciousness intact, giving him a sleepy smile. “Hi…” Legacy cries out and swoops down to bundle you in his arms, burying his face into your neck with overjoyed clicks and croons. You’re still fragile- he can feel it from the way you lean against him as you thread your fingers through your hair- but you’re alright, you’re okay, and you’ll only get better from here on out. With a tenderness only you’ve had the right of knowing, he sets you back down, the bed cushioning your aching bones, and you open up your arms towards him as an invitation. With a delighted trill he accepts and cuddles against you, claws wrapped securely around your waist and head nudging underneath your chin to make small, hoarse chuckles bubble out of you for the first time in weeks. Your laughter is the sweetest melody to his ears, and Foul Legacy purrs blissfully at the sound. Eventually your hands begin to slow, going from scritches to long, languid pets as sleep tries to pull you back under, fighting against it to no avail. Foul Legacy simply pulls you closer, slotting your body against his as he strokes your arms; his permission to wander back into unconsciousness. You yawn, snuggling impossibly closer and latching onto the scarf that hangs around his neck with a sleepy mumble of goodnight, before peaceful dreams inevitably claim you again. With a soft, affectionate rumble, Legacy pulls the covers over both of you and allows your quiet breathing to lull him to sleep, too, where you can both finally rest. “Love you…” It’s the sun instead of pain that wakes you, filtering through a space in your curtains and bathing you in golden light. You stretch, delicately, and crane your neck towards the Harbinger dozing beside you, before nudging him with a mischievous grin. Childe mumbles, blinking tiredly- it feels like he’s been asleep for days, the only thing on his mind being the murmur from an exhausted but happy Foul Legacy- and when he turns he’s met with the sight of you, the effects of your illness still present but almost invisible due to the smile on your face. “Good morning.”

[v0rewhxre]

Punished Part 2

The very highly anticipated part 2 to my punished blurb I wrote randomly last week! Thank you all so much for the support and love! I was not expecting this story to take off!

Also the first two paragraphs are from part 1 if they seem familiar!

18+ MDNI

CW: [f masturbation, m masturbation, slight throat grasping, p in v unprotected sex, restraint play, blindfolds, sensory play, oral f receiving, edging, pull out method, slightly dom Noah, slightly dom reader, slightly mean Noah, mentions of sex toys, mentions of squirting]

He waited a moment before moving his gaze to me. The expression on his face was cocky, there was no remorse in those eyes from the incident he just pulled. He simply grabbed a t-shirt and wiped himself off, getting up to go about his day.

Before he stepped outside the bedroom door, he turned and said, "If you touch yourself, I will do that again later. If you use your vibrator I will do that every day for the rest of the week, then you'll miss me," He said before walking away leaving me in practically a puddle of my own mess and tears.

*Later that day*

The soft hum of my vibrator was the only sound in our large airy bedroom. There was a slick sweat that coated my entire body. My hips were moving in rhythm, coming off the bed so I could get the most pressure on my clit. Noah had left the house for the afternoon to work on some fancy drum engineering stuff with Matt and Folio. This provided the perfect opportunity to finally get the release I needed.

The entire day sucked. Noah was extremely arrogant and moody all day. I knew this could only mean he was having a hard time with a new song. Although he had done a lot of work in therapy, these mood swings still came out. I didn't mind the mood swings occasionally, usually they led to really hot sex with Noah. Not today I guess...

The pleasure building throughout my pelvis started to become more intense at the thoughts of Noah throwing me around bed. I focused on this one particular time where Noah fucked me so hard I squirted all over him, making a huge mess. We ended up laughing about it for weeks afterwards. To this day I swear I actually peed, but he reassured me that was not the case.

Finally, my orgasm was right on the cusp. I continued the same swirl pattern on my clit allowing myself to go over the edge. I moaned so loudly; all the tension from earlier pouring out of me in waves of ecstasy. Fuck Noah and his stupid fucking rule, if I want to cum I will.

After my orgasm finished I set my vibrator back in the nightstand drawer, remade the bed, and took a quick shower. There would be no evidence for Noah to find.

When Noah came home, he was still a little off but seemed a lot happier. They must have cooked up something real good in the studio. I had no doubt Matt and Folio wrote some insane drum parts for the next album.

"What did you get up to today?" Noah asked quizzically, raising one eyebrow. It took all my energy to keep my cheeks from heating when he asked. I felt bad about lying but I could not deal with watching Noah get off once again without me.

"I just spent the day watching shows, and I did a bit of cleaning," I said casually. It wasn't a lie at all, I had cleaned the house and watched a few episodes of Attack On Titan.

"Interesting," Noah said slowly.

"Interesting indeed," I mimicked his tone.

With that Noah got off the couch and proceeded down the hallway towards our bedroom. I raced to follow his long strides, almost running into him as he stopped at my nightstand right inside the door.

"Are you sure you just cleaned and watched shows?" Noah asked as he opened the drawer to inspect the many toys I had.

"Yes I am sure," I said quietly.

"Try again... this time, don't lie," Noah said as he selected the very vibrator I had used earlier.

I had made one fatal error, I did not clean it off.

"Noah I..." but I was cut off by the a loud sniff. I watched as Noah ran his nose up the entire length of the vibrator, inhaling the now dried arousal I had produced earlier.

"You think I wouldn't recognize the smell of your pussy, y/n?" Noah said placing the vibrator down in the drawer. He turned slowly towards me, his height and muscular frame becoming menacing as the light faded away with the setting sun.

"What did I tell you earlier?" he said taking a step towards me, firmly grasping my throat with his hand. He wasn't cutting off my airway, he knew that was one thing that really scared me, but he knew his grasp could control anything I did.

"Noah, please. I can't watch you jerk off again. It drove me insane. Please, I'll do anything... please just please," I said stifling the sob that was coming up my throat.

"Tskk, y/n that wasn't part of the deal now was it love?" Noah said.

He kept one hand wrapped around my throat while he used the other to slowly pull down his pants. My eyes widened as I watched his cock spring free, already half hard just from the thought of me masturbating. A win is a win I suppose.

I looked up at Noah's eyes, they were pitch black in the dark room. He smirked at me as he leaned down and spit in his hand. My pussy almost flooded the entire room. The fucker knew how much I loved spit. His hand now started slowly moving up and down his cock, the only sound in the room was his saliva smacking as he rubbed.

His eyes rolled back slightly as he let his head hang, he seemed to have been waiting for another release all day. The mere thought he tortured me turned him on. God, I fucking hated him.

"Noah, I will literally get on my knees and beg right now. I cannot do this again," I said urgently as I noticed his pace quickened by the sound of his hand moving back and forth.

His hand let up slightly on my throat, I wasn't sure if it was from my pleads or because he was so turned on he was already falling apart. I used this opportunity to slip from his grasp, jumping into him. I wrapped my arms around his neck, legs around his waist.

Noah stumbled slightly backwards but maintained his balance as I literally attacked him. My mouth was on his before he could protest, our lips colliding with such force I was concerned I knocked a tooth out. I kissed him so deeply, forcing my tongue into his mouth to explore every inch. His tongue battled mine, trying to push mine away with no prevail. His arms snaked around me, resting just above my ass. I had him.

I ground my hips against his cock, the angle allowing me to rub my pussy up his length. I moved at an agonizing pace which earned a few frustrated huffs from Noah's mouth into mine.

Next thing I knew my back was against the bedroom wall, Noah now matching my hip thrusts with his own. His precum leaked all over my body, coating me in a sticky mess. Oh my god was I turned on.

I pulled away slightly, grabbing Noah's ear lob between my teeth. I whispered in a low sensual voice, "Fuck me like the naughty girl I am, Noah".

His cock slammed into me. Hard. I don't even know how it happened, I didn't remember him lining himself with my pussy.

The dark room now filled with the sounds of our skin slapping, us moaning, and my back pounding against the wall. He thrusted so hard I could barely even think, reaching the deepest part of my core.

I let my head fall back, smiling to myself as I knew I had won. Or had I?

Noah moved us to the bed, laying me in the mass of pillows that we had. We were often a little freaky in the bedroom. We had restraints already attached to the posts of our bed, awaiting to be used when Noah and I wanted.

Noah's cock left me while he moved to tie me to the bed. The Velcro cuffs were comfortable around my wrists and ankles. What I wasn't expecting was the sleep mask Noah placed around my head and over my eyes.

I couldn't move and I could not see, a dangerous game to play with a man who loved control.

My senses heightened as the anticipation did, I could feel the bed move but I had no idea where Noah was.

One finger. One finger trailed slowly from my ankle all the way up to my chin. He moved his finger as light as a feather, a trail of goosebumps following in its wake. My clit was practically screaming to be touched as another finger moved over my body, then three fingers fanned their way up. All purposely missing the one place I wanted to be touched. He didn't even give me a nipple touch.

One little kiss. One little soft kiss full of love was placed on my hip. Then another soft kiss on the other hip. One on my stomach. One on my right forearm, then the left. A soft kiss placed on my chin, forehead, right cheek, left. Then Noah softly brushed over my lips with his, a kiss that sent electricity throughout my body as it had the very first time he kissed me.

"I love you, Noah," I whispered out into the room, unsure where he was.

"I love you more," He replied as his finger lightly brushed over my pussy. He didn't apply enough pressure to breakthrough my folds, which was frustrating. My back arched slightly, seeking out his finger again. Instead I was met with hot breath, and one very wet tongue. Noah licked me this time, again he did so very lightly.

He pulled away, lifting one leg with him and placing it over his shoulder. He moved the other on his shoulder. Based on the position I was in, he must have been bent low on the bed or the restraints were let out enough to accommodate.

Teeth. I felt teeth next taking a small bite of my left inner thigh. It was only inches away from my pussy. He took another bite on my right inner thigh. Then he moved back to the other, inching slightly towards my center. Another, then another, then another, then... oh my god!!!

Noah took a small bite and pulled my clit with his teeth. It was hard enough to evoke shock throughout my entire body. It hurt, yet was quite satisfying. I felt my pussy clench around nothing, desperately wanting to be filled again by Noah's cock.

Noah released my clit, then brought his tongue back into the equation by spreading my folds open. His tongue was met with his lips, as he began licking and sucking my entire being. Now my hips began to move again, desperately seeking a release that I needed once again. Noah now moved lower, tongue fucking my pussy expertly by hooking it just inside. He pulled away only to spit on me, acting like his glorious meal was filth. Jesus, I couldn't take this any longer.

My moans began to get louder and louder, and so did the sounds coming from my pussy. The pleasure was now dimly burned in my lower belly, I could feel my toes begin to curl in the restraints.

"Noah, please.... I need to feel you inside... please," I whined desperately.

My legs were off his shoulders, my butt was back on the bed again.

Cock. I felt the head of his cock slowly moving up and down between my folds, doing slow circles around my clit before going back down. He slightly pressed in, just breaking through my entrance before moving back upwards. I moved my hips towards Noah's cock, moving against him to create more friction. He pulled away.

A few moments later he was back, moving slowly up and down again.

"Do you want it?" he cockily said as if he didn't already know the answer. I could hear his stupid smile from where my head rested. As if to prove his point, he put the entire tip in and thrusted only the tip which drove me insane. He pulled out asking again, by emphasizing every word he said, "Y/n, do... you... want.... it?"

"Do you want it?" I threw back, lifting my hips towards where I believed he was sitting. I giggled slightly, knowing I was being a brat and that I drove him crazy.

He chuckled back, "You really are such a naughty girl aren't you? Luckily you have such a pretty pussy".

His cock entered me again, but this time he went in all the way. I had no time to adjust to him before he was slamming into me once again. His arms were wrapped under my thighs, lifting me to the perfect angle. This time I knew he was just as needy as I was, his cock throbbed.

Noah grunted as he picked up the pace even more, his new workout regiment allowed him to have more stamina than ever. He was able to thrust harder and faster for longer. My moans once again filled the room in sync with his. I could hear the sound of our skin slapping against one another. He squeezed my thighs with his hands to keep from loosing grip, we both were coated in sweat now.

"Noah...." I warned, he knew I was close. My pussy was pulsing and throbbing, my orgasm was built up to the max.

"I know," he breathed back.

Suddenly, he was over me completely and his lips were grazing my ear. His moans filled my ears, sending me into a sensory overload as I plunged over. My orgasm came fast, I screamed out Noah's name which I knew probably hurt his ear. He road me through my orgasm for a few seconds before he pulled out. His cum sprayed all over my stomach and lower boobs. I felt each string as it landed on me. I had wished I could see it, but just feeling him release on me was enough. This was a punishment after all.

Once we both were done, Noah plopped on top of me creating even more of a mess for us to clean up.

"You do a great job at making rules and an even better job with your punishments," I laughed into the top of his head, rubbing it in that his punishment was indeed not sufficient for the crime.

"Yeah, yeah," he moaned into the crook of my neck.

I smiled to myself as Noah dozed off, until I realized he fell asleep on me and I couldn't move.

I suppose an impending uti was punishment indeed...

******************************************

I hope you all enjoyed! I little different than I intended to write it but this just came to me and I think it works :)

[graychrissy]

🌊Digital Detox + Egyptians lucid dreaming method 🌊

Idk what to put on the title of this post so I wrote digital detox and I have copy pasted the main lines.

In the ancient Egypt the Egyptians use to have lucid dreaming alot and it was extremely easy for for them not just Egyptians but it was also mention ancient Indian scriptures.

You’re probably wondering ‘what’s the secret’? The real problem is often NOT your technique. It’s actually another issue that no amount of techniques, articles, reality checks, supplements or uncomfortable masks is going to fix. It’s your ‘inner game’. Specifically, your subconscious motivation and reward circuits, and ‘dopamine cycle’. Travel in your mind for a second, to ancient Egypt.

There were no smart phones, internet connections, computer animated action movies or virtual reality headsets.

Your brain back then would have produced a healthy amount of dopamine as a reward for pretty basic things like eating, working, exploring, and taking some time to relax or meditate

Now our average attention spans are literally less than 7 SECONDS. It’s probably a lot lower than that, and It’s declining every single year with the rise of new, highly addictive and stimulating social media apps and platforms. When was the last time you meditated for over 90 minutes? Have you ever? I’m not saying you have to do that to lucid dream, but this sort of practice was very common 5000 years ago. In fact, it was weird NOT to do that. And herein lies the main problem.

Your brain is ‘fried’ with an overly stimulated dopamine pathway. Dopamine is the neurotransmitter that stimulates the feeling of WANTING to keep doing something. It’s the reason you keep scrolling through Instagram, or keep refreshing your Facebook feed to see if there are any new comments or notifications. But it’s also the SUBCONSCIOUS reason you aren’t able to lucid dream easily. In the last decade especially, there have been billions of dollars spent by big tech to essentially ‘addict you’ to their platforms. Why? Money. The more time and energy you spend on platforms like that, the more money they make. So the task has been given to artificial intelligence. The AIs often just get trained and told a few basic things: 1: Get people to spend more time on the platform 2: Get people to keep coming BACK to the platform as often as possible The ‘AI’ pays almost NO attention to what that would do to your mental health, attention span, motivation, emotions, or really anything else. Much LESS attention is paid to the effect it has on your ability to focus, or do things like, say, lucid dream. Now, the ‘dopamine cycle’ is one part of the problem, but it’s actually pretty easy to fix. There are several little pieces to what I call the ‘modern brain puzzle’. Things that just weren’t a problem 5000 years ago. You can see some of this playing out in children today. On average, children or people under the age of 15, find it MUCH easier to lucid dream than adults do. It’s because at that age, their dopamine system has not been damaged too much. This is of course changing now, as more and more children are having access to smartphones, but it’s an interesting point. In fact not only does the dopamine problem affect your ability to lucid dream, it also affects your ability to WANT to lucid dream (consciously and subconsciously). Specifically I’m talking about your motivation and focus. And you guessed it, there’s your number one cause of problems when trying to meditate, practice techniques like the WILD, or recall your dreams.

After reading this paragraph or stanza whatever,I noticed something,as a kid I had lucid dreams alot with just putting intentions.

My first lucid dream was at around 7-8 years old,and I was sinking when I realised I was dream and I tried controlling my dream and even succeeded,and I was probably there for about 10 minutes playing with underwater creatures and mermaids.

And till 7 grade I use to have alot of lucid dreams but after that I was allowed to use phone and so I was always invested in phone like all the time. By the way lucid dream was pretty normal for me and I pretty much forgot about it and never really paid attention to lucid dreaming. And then I rarely had any lucid dreams, probably 4 times ever since 8 grade and I've noticed every time I lucid dream it's always whenever I don't use any social media.

In 9 grade my phone was taken again because my mother noticed my social media addiction. And after few months I again start to lucid dream for fun easily and effortlessly but during COVID I was again allowed to have my phone and then a new laptop so now my life was revolving around social media again and for the past few year I only lucid dream whenever I don't get to use my phone more then 2 days.

Idk bout y'all but I wasn't allowed to use phones or laptop till 8th grade so the only thing I knew was TV which I only watched after coming home so like my mind was most of the te bored because I didn't had anything to keep it entertain which made it easy for me to observe around looking for things to do.

So how can you reverse the ‘dopamine problem’ and several of the other issues modern life has created? By the way: This is NOT about destroying your phone and going back to live in a cave. There are actually several powerful habits you can install, that will let you KEEP using your phone, laptop etc, but without these harmful effects. Here’s the simple solution to more lucid dreams: 1. Reverse engineer your life and remove distractions, manipulation, ‘dopamine hijacking’ and harmful blue light exposure from your daily routine (along with some other ‘problem patterns’) 2. Get inside your subconscious brain and rewire yourself to WANT to practice lucid dreaming, and to effortlessly do reality checks at the right time, without even trying 3. Learn powerful ‘all day awareness’ and ‘lucid living’ techniques that give your brain superpowers in the fight 4. On top of THAT foundation, learn the most effective techniques and concepts, use our tools to stay motivated, and experience lucid mastery within 14 days. Let’s dive a little bit deeper: First, you have to ‘reverse engineer’ the problem. This can be complicated if you don’t know what you’re doing, but we’ve laid everything out step by step for you. If dopamine addiction is part of the problem, we have to break that addiction first. Then comes your mindset, and your motivation pathways. You need to actually feel GOOD when you practice these things. I see so many people saying they’re struggling to remember to do reality checks, or they just don’t want to wake up at ‘weird times’ to practice. Don’t worry, you won’t have to. It will feel good, and you’ll ENJOY practicing these things. Next, your subconscious mind. It’s SO important to fix your internal beliefs about lucid dreaming, because the chances are you have ‘internal blocks’ about becoming lucid. They’re easy to pick up, but a bit harder to ‘unlearn’. The system shows you how to ‘unlearn’ them, and install new, powerful and self affirming beliefs into your mind. This gives your brain lots more motivation to keep trying. Now, one of the most common things I hear people say is that they can’t REMEMBER to keep doing reality checks. It’s linked to the dopamine problem we mentioned earlier, but it’s also connected to a few other psychological principles that we’ll get onto. We’ll give you a new framework to ENJOY reality checks, remember them without any annoying reminders, and actually get them to SHOW UP in your dreams, 9 out of 10 times. And then finally, we’ll build the most effective techniques, methods and concepts on top of that new, strong foundation. Of course, I’m simplifying this here, but that’s the outline.

Here are some videos that may help.

If you want to know more about it or get the steps to lucid dream you can buy the book or go through a long step to get it for free but the procedure is very long and probably only for Iphone user.

You find some good articles ways to do the 'reverse dopamine' thingy.(I donot trust my research on this topic cuz I got confuse)

You may use Adambja's tape to reprogram your subconscious and this hacking the matrix tape the comments under the video was so good and I found this tape on someone's success story. You can use this two tapes to reprogram your subconscious and of course psych-k.

This is pretty much all you need digital detox,observing your surroundings and subconscious reprogramming to change your belief or assumptions.

And this will make you even more motivated that you are working on your goals as many of us have the access of devices it's hard for us to keep up with all this method and it's not like we are always busy if we are we wouldn't be scrolling through Tumblr and Pinterest all the time. If you read the the copy pasted part you'll see what I mean.

Edit: I forgot to mention it 🥲 if we follow do this we CAN HAVE lucid dream everyday.

Egyptians lucid dreaming tea

This will be quick,so I went to my aunt's place with my mother and my aunt's ran out of tea powder/leaves so she used her daughter's blue lotus tea and after getting home I took a nap and I HAD A FOKING LUCID DREAM,so basically I didn't knew that it was the tea until I was doing some research on LD and found out that in ancient Egypt they use Blue Lotus tea and I found some review about it on YouTube and people had very vivid dreams aswell. This tea basically put you in REM which y'all probably know about.

But I don't like tea😐,so if anyone have interest you can try I honestly want to but my hate for tea is on top on the list of top 5 things I hate,you can find them online people even use Blue Lotus in vape😐not encourageling y'all to smoke but if anyone does you can.

[nnnyxie]

Feeling a lil down about myself, what would you think about Izu x chubby reader? Reader isn’t necessarily insecure but does have bad days, maybe some of Izu‘s fans were being extremely horrible to reader or something because of their weight (I live for protective!Izu) and reader just shuts themselves off and is rotting away in a pile of blankets in their apartment while Izu dosen’t get what’s going on at all- he adores reader and isn’t all like „oh but your boobs and ass and thighs“ he just adored READER you know??? Often when I read x chubby!reader they only mention their curves and thighs and what not but I don’t think reducing plus size people to curvy plus size people is very inclusive so idk if that makes sense but yeah kwnfksld

#𖢥 izuku anon

baby i am loving these requests and i’m happy to give you chubby rep!!

i sorta based it on how i get when i’m insecure about myself so i’m sorry if it isn’t what you were hoping for :(

some days it’s just hard yk?? people get mean and it can really fuck with your brain. it makes it hard to look at yourself sometimes.

especially when you’re with a pro hero. people think that you ‘don’t belong together’ just cause you two have different body types. and it’s sickening how people think that way.

it makes you feel awful— all of the hateful comments you get under your posts gets overwhelming and sometimes you have to archive them all together. sometimes you even have to deactivate your account because they get so overwhelming.

izuku always wonders why you do that— you never give him a real reason. just a ‘i don’t feel like being on social media right now’. he knows it’s not the truth but, he doesn’t want to pry. he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable by hounding you for answers.

but tonight— tonight was awful. the first thing you saw while opening instagram was a picture of you and your lovely boyfriend, something a fan posted. the fan was nice!! their post was a cute edit and it was an appreciation post!! but the comments— the comments were sickening. they were filled with so much hate, it made you physically ill. and today you weren’t ‘feeling’ yourself so the comments didn’t exactly help.

you deactivated your account again. now you were thinking about just deleting it all together. it won’t stop the hate but it’ll stop you from seeing it. either way— you decided to try and push those awful comments away and read, maybe it could lighten your mood.

it didn’t. the thoughts kept coming back— you couldn’t even read a full paragraph. it felt awful. you felt awful. maybe a shower would help?

as soon as you stepped foot in the bathroom, you stepped right back out. it hurt to look at yourself. it made you cry. you weren’t particularly insecure but these comments were ruthless and they just really got to you this time.

when izuku got back home from patrol, he found you in your shared bed, you were curled up in a pile of blankets with nearly all the pillows surrounding you. he heard your crying— and was immediately concerned. why wouldn’t he be?

“love, what’s the matter? did you watch the neverending story again?” he sat beside you and pulled the blankets down so he could full see your face. this wasn’t your ‘sad movie’ cry. this was entirely different.

“hey, what’s going on?” “it’s nothing— i uhm just read something sad is all.” you were a very poor liar.

“be honest with me, please? is something going on?” he was now laying beside you, holding you from behind. “i just— do you really want to be with me? i’m not—” you choked, crying more at the thought of him leaving for someone ‘better’ (there is no one better). “of course i do. i love you. why wouldn’t i want to be with you?” “how aren’t you… how aren’t you disgusted by me?” “why would you ever think i’d feel that way towards you? i love all of you. and everyday i find more to love about you.”

then— it clicked. he remembered.

“is this about that post? bakugo sent it to me… he told me to look at the comments— baby if i knew this was happening sooner i would’ve done something about it. why didn’t you tell me?” he rubbed your arm in comfort, he knew all about being insecure— of course he couldn’t relate to where yours stemmed from but, he knew how awful it felt to feel like you aren’t enough for people. “i didn’t want you to be mad at them. they’re your supporters.” “they aren’t my supporters if they’re treating you this way.” he took a breath, he was upset. not by you— never. but, by the hateful people. “i love you, and every part of you. i’ll never be disgusted by you and i’ll never want anyone else. i only want you.” god you loved him.

“can you turn so i can see that pretty face?” you turned to face him. izuku had a smile but, his eyes welled when he saw the tear streaks that ran down your cheeks. he cupped your face, swiping his thumps to wipe away the stray tears that still fell. “you’re the most beautiful person i have ever met.” you cried again, not because you were upset— but, because, he was just so wonderful to you. izuku held you, letting you cry into him.

“i’ll address it.” “you don’t need to.” “i’m going to.”

don’t mind the neverending story part…. i just rewatched it today and cried abt the horse scene… artax :(

[tsukana]

this is a vent post, from the pov of someone who does not main BBH and views his actions as an outsider who mains others on the island. this is tagged for neg and crit. i am NOT inviting bbh mains for their opinions on my post. thanks.

in my personal opinion. i am so incredibly done with whatever bbh's current lore 'arc' is rn that has him somehow canonizing in his opinion being on both purgatory and the island. to my knowledge, he's somehow split himself into two separate entities that have knowledge of the going ons?? and this isnt just limited to him as bagi, tubbo, and etoiles are all also doing it as well, but in my view he is the most culpable for actually causing 'canon' impacts on those still on the island NOT in purg2 despite that they were kidnapped.

i /extremely/ disagree with whatever justification he had on telling richarlyson and pomme yesterday they were at purgatory, while seemingly lighthearted going back and forth between quesadilla island and purgatory like its no issue. the implications of it?? does he realise that by doing this he's making it seem like its not a big deal to get back to the island and that those left behind like cellbit and baghera are voluntarily doing so and abandoning their kid and making an active choice?? when just today he came back during an intermission for 1v1s during the purgatory event and IMMEDIATELY started talking about purgatory and said to sunny "i saw your dad today!" as if sunny and tubbo didnt have an entire sad goodbye scene (which they did justify as canon, no matter my own opinion on that matter which i wont get into). but like. i understand that the admins have said that the players can choose whether or not purgatory 2 is canon to their lore or not. and more eloquent people than i have explained reasonings that i agree with on why i don't think that's a good idea for keeping a cohesive main plot between everyone- but. i think if theyre going to be in purgatory and make purgatory /canon to their lore/ that should have consequences and effects and like if they were able to that easily go back and forth from purgatory which has been CONFIRMED THE SAME ISLAND AS THE FIRST ONE, why was the first purgatory even a big deal at all. it completely retcons the importance of it to everyones lore as a side effect.

i think if the purg2 players decide that purg2 isnt canon for them and come back to the island to hang out and chill, good for them and i hope their lore conforms with that! but if youve decided that purg2 is CANON to their lore that should have an appropriate impact, and by implying its so such a simple thing to go to and from purgatory, it's completely minimizing the actual effect it would have on his own lore and the lore of others that have chosen to canonize. i dont begrudge them for logging back onto the main server to hang with friends, but does that make sense that your character would have full knowledge of whats happened in whats supposed to be an emotionally draining isolated island???

that last paragraph was supposed to be a tldr but i kept going. real tldr; if players decide purg2 isnt canon to them power to them. if it IS canon, then anything from the island should NOT be brought up in an rp conversation on the main island later on until purg2 is over??

[copperbadge]

Did you ever read the Dragon Riders of Pern books?

I did, yes! When I was eleven or twelve, in the early 90s, I came into possession of a stash of vintage 70s Anne McCaffrey books -- the first three Dragonriders books (Flight, Quest, and White Dragon) plus the Harper books (Song, Singer, Drums) and Get Off The Unicorn, and I think Ship Who Sang and possibly Crystal Singer, most of them in the original pulp paperback. At the time she was still publishing fairly frequently so once I tore through those I started reading the rest, to the point where, when The Girl Who Heard Dragons came out when I was in my middle teens, I was caught up and super eager for the new anthology (which I adored). We didn't have a lot of money then and almost none for books I could as easily get out of the library, so getting the hardbound version with all the gorgeous Michael Whelan illustrations as a gift was a real treat.

Anne McCaffrey was essentially my introduction to adult SFF, along with Terry Pratchett beginning about a year later. She was certainly my introduction to written erotica. And her writing was a huge influence on mine structurally -- she has a pretty specific way of structuring sentences and paragraphs and when I re-read her books I can see where a lot of my prose style came from even today.

I was aware at the time that there were, shall we say, some issues with her writing, particularly surrounding consent (she acknowledges as much in Get Off The Unicorn, not that she ends up doing anything about it, ever) and I'm aware of her extremely weird and problematic statements about homosexuality. Not to mention she was one of the authors who not only didn't like fanfic but flip-flopped a bit about whether she would "allow" it to be circulated. It's a mixed legacy in general, and certainly for me. But the dragonriders books and especially Dragonsong and Dragonsinger hold a specific and special place in my heart, as does The Ship Who Searched.

[adickaboutspoons]

So we've talked a lot about the different illustrations of Blackbeard used in the show and how they differ and compare to actual historical depictions, and the subtextual significance thereof. But today I want to talk about the metatext.

Because it's weird that three such radically different depictions of Blackbeard should be contained within one book, right? And not a book called, like, "The Many Faces of Blackbeard" or something to suggest that said book is specifically about him and only him.

And, would you look at that - "Howard Pyle's Book of Pirates is a really real text that was published in the 1920s and is therefore available for free on-line (CW - this text is very much of its time and contains extremely repugnant racist depictions of characters of color). Short side-note, and then I want to get back to talking about the book itself. Howard Pyle was an author and illustrator in the late 19th/early 20th century, who is credited with being THE GUY who created the modern idea of what the pirates of the Golden Age of Piracy looked like, with billowy culots, long, wide sashes around their waists, head scarves under broad-brimmed hats, and gold hoop earnings.

And it's a total fabrication. Yeah. He based The Look largely on the Spanish Romani. So in the show we've got all these contradictory and erroneous illustrations of Blackbeard in this book of this guy who gave us That Pirate Look, knowing full well those illustrations were made up of whole cloth. And I just think that's a neat little extra layer of subtext.

So is Blackbeard even actually in the really real book? Yes. Ish. The first chapter of the book is dedicated to talking about real pirates of the Spanish Main and Blackbeard is featured from page 28 - 32 including a black-and-white illustration entitled "Blackbeard buries his treasure".

It's this very strange tone of being worshipfully tantalized by how he was a REAL pirate (as contrasted with Captain Kidd who was just a namby-pamby PIRVATEER 🙄) and just EVER so CLEVER, but also breathlessly scandalized by what a v. bad, awful, TERRIBLE curr he was. Here's a sample so you can see what I mean: "But with 'Blackbeard' it is different, for in him we have a real, ranting, raging, roaring pirate per se—one who really did bury treasure, who made more than one captain walk the plank, and who committed more private murders than he could number on the fingers of both hands; one who fills, and will continue to fill, the place to which he has been assigned for generations, and who may be depended upon to hold his place in the confidence of others for generations to come." All in all, it's mostly just a gloss the likes of which you can get out of glancing at the Wikipedia page. It doesn't even mention Stede in relation to Blackbeard except as an offhand comment about how apparently "Major Bonnet" (who is otherwise only mentioned in one paragraph that dunks on him for being unable to commit to the bit of being a "proper" pirate) swung by and picked up a bunch of sailors Blackbeard had marooned. No mention of the fact that Bonnet and Blackbeard sailed together for awhile. Or that said maroonees were prolly Bonnet's men who stuck with Blackbeard after the breakup they went their separate ways.

After the first chapter, the book mostly seems to be stories of fictional pirates (or at least wholly fictional stories that happen to use the names of real pirates incidentally. You know - like our little show).

But so what? Surely the show just used a real book as a prop and stuck their homegrown Blackbeard fanart in willy-nilly to make it look like part of the text, right?

About that.

So I actually found Howard Pyle's Book of Pirates by doing a search for the text on the pages opposite the illustration when Stede presents Ed with the book for his approval, and again when Izzy is perusing the book before he goes on his "THIS is Blackbeard" screed. And the stories from which the texts are taken are somewhat revealing.

The story opposite the illustration Stede presents is "The Ruby of Kishmore". It's about a man who is fundamentally opposed to committing acts of violence (he's a Quaker), who is indirectly responsible for the deaths of three men. The first dies when he attacks the Quaker, and in the course of their struggle, is accidentally stabbed by his own blade. The second dies when he attacks the Quaker, and in the course of their struggle, accidentally shoots himself with his own gun. The third lures the Quaker to a secluded spot and attacks him, and in the course of their struggle, he drowns (no cannonball to assist, but I think you're picking up what I'm putting down).

The story opposite the illustration Izzy is preoccupied with is "Tom Chist and the Treasure Box". The eponymous character is an orphan from Bristol. He's called Tom Chist because he was found as an infant inside a chest bearing the initials T.C. that washed ashore from the wreckage of a ship from Bristol and the woman who found him had recently lost a baby named Tom; so the new baby is Tom from the Chest (and, incidentally, isn't "Chist" an interestingly Kiwi pronunciation of "chest"). The man who raises Tom Chist is an abusive alcoholic. One night, Tom chances to spy on a pirate who comes ashore to bury a treasure chest. But when he goes back the next day for the chest himself, he finds that, while it does contain treasure, it mostly is full of blackmail material. So the abused orphan from Bristol, who is named "chest"-with-a-kiwi-accent unearths a chest full of sensitive material that can be used for leverage. It's hardly even a metaphor at that point.

I don't think there's anything particularly deep going on here - just a fun little Easter egg for those who go looking.

[britcision]

REPOST, ignore this if you read chapter 4!

(because this just fucking in besties, copying FROM tumblr online and pasting TO tumblr mobile doubles up the fucking paragraph breaks again, and I’m just deadass not fixing that 3 times)

ENJOY chapter 4, part 1!

Today’s chapter is dedicated to @lehana37

One day, beloveds, one day we WILL get to Sam and Dick… but not today, I was having way too much fun bullying Vlad and Bruce

Tag List: @welcometosasakiworld @kyrianclawraith @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikoyuii @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop @trickerdi @mayoota-blog @xysidhe @idkmrpianoman @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof @eonic @onyxlightdragon @larks-and-katydids

Previous chapter:

First chapter:

———————

Pay Attention To Me Dammit

“Okay,” Danny sucked in a deep breath, surfacing from Jason’s suit to two deeply concerned pairs of blue eyes, “let’s get somewhere private real fast.”

Tucker snickered, helpfully extracting both him and Sam from Jason’s arms.

“I can’t fucking believe you forgot Vlad was coming,” he sighed, voice still shaking as he gave Jason a once over.

Sam, sucking in huge gasps of air, pinched his arm as she straightened.

“Oh shut up, not like you brought him up either,” she wheezed, still grinning.

“Vladdie’s gonna be fucking heartbroken,” Tucker sighed happily, shoving Danny towards a corner.

People were definitely looking. And not just the other four bats; regular guests were watching behind fans, hands, or just deadass staring.

Tim took over, catching Danny’s wrist and pulling the other boy after him. They weren’t that far off the same height.

“So, should I take it that “Vlad” being here is a good thing or a bad thing?” He asked, pulling on his best socialite smile, heading for one of the hall exits instead.

“Back room?” Jason wondered, guiding Sam and Tucker quickly after him. Tim nodded without looking back.

“They shouldn’t be busy yet. We can talk without being overheard,” he added to the other three, who obligingly sped up.

“As for your question, Vlad being here is… probably gonna end up being nothing?” Danny offered, doing his best smiles for the rich assholes they passed.

Sam kicked him in the ankle.

“Wait til we’re alone,” she said quietly, hustling Tucker along.

Unsurprisingly to Jason and Tim, the first back room already had four other people sitting in it, on two extremely plush couches, angled at right angles and facing a fireplace. Before Danny could turn to find another, Steph caught his hand and pulled him in.

“Hi, Stephanie Brown, friend of the Waynes, we’re gonna talk all about Jason’s adorable little crush on you but first, what did you need privacy for?” She asked, eyes bright with innuendo.

Danny grinned right back, already liking this one, and relaxed when Tim and Jason guided the others in and shut the door.

“Well, I guess you all being here means no one has to be found later… and the more eyes the better in this case,” he mused, looking over the other teens and young adult.

Dick waved at Tucker, grinning sarcastically.

“Danny. And Danny,” he added, nodding to Danny himself.

Sam hid a snicker behind her hand.

“That’s what you went with?” She asked Tucker, and he grinned entirely unrepentantly back.

“What, Jason said he told them who I was,” he said in his very best innocent voice.

Before they could get going, Jason raised a hand.

“I’m gonna guess there was a reason you snuck Danny in other than getting back at Sam’s parents? Vlad Masters,” he prodded, dropping to sit on one of the plush royal blue couches next to Cass.

All three Amity Parkers sobered immediately.

“Right… yeah, we should sit for this,” Tucker agreed, glancing around the room. Seating for nine was going to be tight, but… well, he may no longer be a teenager, but he was still seating-flexible.

Introductions were made as people juggled themselves around, finally ending with Cass, Jason, and Danny on one sofa, Sam, Steph, and Damian on the other, and Dick and Tim perching on windowsill or sofa arm respectively. Tucker took the floor.

Once movement stilled, Danny exchanged glances with Sam and Tucker. Maybe hoping that for once, he wouldn’t be doing the explaining?

He shoulda known better.

Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair and didn’t lean intentionally into Jason’s side. It was good to have another halfa around, that was all.

“Sooooo… cliff’s notes? Vlad Masters is a shady billionaire who uses some seriously unethical shit to make predatory deals with other rich folks to steal their fortune. We think he’s here to cement that flashy “b”, byyyy stealing your dad’s fortune,” he explained quickly, glancing around at the Waynes and adjacents he could see.

They did not look convinced.

Tim frowned, leaning forward on his knee and steepling his fingers.

“If you have proof of that, shouldn’t someone already be looking into him?” He asked contemplatively, eyes fixed on Danny’s face.

It was. Weirdly intense.

Fighting down discomfort, Danny shrugged.

“So remember when I said deeply unethical? Think like, mind control. He’s hard to investigate.”

“You make him sound like a supervillain,” Dick noted from the windowsill.

Sam raised a pointed eyebrow at him.

“Duh, we said “billionaire”.”

“Hey,” Tim protested, leaning around Steph to frown at her, “I’m a billionaire.”

She stared him dead in the eye while Steph snickered.

“I said what I said.”

“And you’re a millionaire,” he shot back sharply, eyes narrowing.

Sam didn’t blink.

“I work at a plant nursery my parents don’t approve of and pay my own tuition. My family are millionaires; I’m not,” she said plainly.

Tim puffed up his cheeks, but let them deflate silently. Jason definitely wasn’t smirking.

Cass leaned forwards suddenly, eyes darting around the room searchingly before settling on Sam.

“Masters. Your connection?” She asked softly, the others stilling to hear her.

Both of Sam’s brows rose, but she didn’t comment at hearing the other girl’s voice for the first time. She looked to Danny instead, raising an eyebrow.

Danny blew out a huff of air, ruffling his bangs.

“So… we… well…”

“He wants to fuck Danny’s mom and adopt Danny,” Tucker said bluntly, tipping his head back to hit Danny’s knees and grinning up at him.

Danny poked him in the forehead, but didn’t refute it.

“Yeah. So he’s kinda been my problem for a while. And he’s the mayor of Amity Park now? Is he still?” He asked, looking from one to the other.

Sam shrugged.

“Think so. I haven’t heard about anyone new.”

The Waynes and co were all kind of just… staring at them. Danny gave them jazz hands.

“And now he’s heeeeeere. He probably won’t make any moves if he knows I’m around, but we should keep an eye on him around Mr Wayne anyway.”

“And we can add him to the fuckery list, along with Sam’s parents,” Tucker added with a very satisfied smile.

It drew all eyes his way, ranging from intrigued to sceptical.

“How?” Steph asked, eyes bright.

Tucker waved a hand over the room.

“Black hair. Blue eyes. For one thing, Mr Drake-Wayne is even the same height, so if he sees you from behind, he could be confused. Dick’s not far off either. And best of all,” he added while the others did quick visual comparisons, decidedly smug, “we hint that Bruce is thinking of accepting Danny as an intern. Step one of Wayne Adoption.”

Sam’s eyes lit up with evil glee.

“Oh he’d do his fucking nut if you cozied up to someone richer than him, Danny,” she gasped, hands bouncing on her lap.

Danny hesitated for a moment, glancing over at Jason. Who was looking back, gears clearly turning. Seeing that he had Danny’s eye, he leaned in quickly.

“Vlad Masters would be Vlad Plasmius, yes?” He asked in a low voice. He’d scanned the database more than read in detail, but he knew the basics.

One very important basic.

Vlad was the other halfa.

And Vlad could sense other halfas. For a hot second Danny very nearly took off out of the room, ready to go find and kick Vlad’s ass and keep him far, far away from Jason.

He didn’t realise he’d clenched his fists until one of them was held in a large, hot hand. Slowly, shakily he uncurled them, checking for blood in the deep half moon crevices now dug in his palms.

Nothing. He was fine.

“Danny?” Jason asked softly, and Danny looked up to his face. There was something in his eyes, something familiar in the way they flashed a deep, sudden green when their eyes met.

Yeah, Jason’s Obsession was fucking definitely Protection, at least in part. Danny clasped his hand quickly, half worried Jason was gonna do just what he’d had to try so hard not to.

Would it have been that bad if Jason was just his friend, not his knight?

There was no way to know anymore.

Covering Jason’s hands in both of his, he gave Jason the best smile he could.

“I’m fine. But yeah, that’s him. And we… should probably also have a private word.” Because there was this sudden, very nasty little temptation curling through him.

“Would this private word have anything to do with Jason almost going full feral?” Dick asked with a studied innocence that had at least a master’s degree.

Which was when Danny noticed that the rest were all staring at them. At their clasped hands. At Jason’s still a little too green eyes.

**

Jason grimaced, fully aware of what they must have seen. He tamped the green down firmly, pushing against the wave of protect-protect-PROTECT the pit was damn near screaming inside him.

Wasn’t entirely sure it was only the pit.

Watching Danny tense up like that, clearly in the throes of fight or flight, pulled at something primal inside him.

Jason didn’t know who Vlad Masters was, what he looked like, what he was doing, but he was fully willing to throw him out of the building by the neck if Danny would relax even a little.

He threatens my king, something growled in the back of his mind and Jason’s hands jerked.

That was fucking new. And not fucking welcome.

He looked to Dick instead, giving him a strained smile. It was the best he could do right now.

“Yeah,” he admitted, not fully comfortable with how strained his voice sounded. How tight his throat felt.

Had the pit tried to use his mouth? Make him speak?

Just the thought made him want to puke, but he pushed that down too. He had shit to do today, and the pit wasn’t gonna ruin it.

“I told you he was helping me with the pit,” he added when Dick still looked calculatedly calm. Definitely not about to tackle him to the ground if he moved too suddenly.

Fuck Jason hoped Dick never tried. When they fought for fun, for training, sure Dick could hand him his ass six ways from Sunday. But when the green took over…

He didn’t want to hurt his brother. None of his brothers, ever again.

Except maybe a little bit psychologically.

“Fenton’s eyes changed too,” Damian said sharply, and oooh absolutely nothing in Jason liked that accusatory tone.

Not about Danny. Not about his king.

His head snapped around to glare at the youngest and knew his eyes had gone green again from the way the others recoiled. All but Sam and Danny. And Damian, suicidal little gremlin.

All but Cass, who slipped herself carefully but immovably back into his lap, hooking her feet into the backs of his knees and hands on his cheeks. Pinning him in place.

Making him look at her, not Damian.

She studied his expression intensely, her eyes saying more than even Dick could manage.

And there was a hand in his again, gently soothing across his fingers until his knuckles opened, and Cass let him look away to Danny. Doing just what Jason had done less than a minute ago.

Danny didn’t have to tell his secrets to anyone he didn’t want to. Not now, not the first time they met, not before he trusted them.

Anger-protect-not their business

And Danny smiled back, all gentle and soft, and Jason settled back, relaxing muscles he hadn’t noticed tensing.

Reassurance-calm-safe safe safe-trust

If Jason trusted them, Danny would too. And if that didn’t sting something right in his chest.

Danny cleared his throat, turning back to the rest of the room and giving them a slightly tighter smile.

“Yeah. I. Uh… I was exposed to the Lazarus pits? About a year before Jason was. So I know what it’s like when it gets too strong.”

Half truths at best, but close enough to be believed. To make sense.

Close enough that no one except Damian, tactless boy wonder, would ever ask.

“Only the dying can survive exposure to the pits,” the boy snapped, eyes sharp as he studied Danny in a new light.

Jason’s hands nearly clenched again, but this time Danny’s was in the way. Protecting Danny meant not crushing Danny’s hand.

Good loophole.

“The dying and the dead,” Danny agreed placidly, calm just barely tinted by amusement.

Jason closed his eyes, let himself focus on breathing in Danny’s aura.

Was that a hint of trouble-fun-plans plans mayhem?

Damian squinted at Danny for another long moment, then nodded sharply and sat back. Steph punched him.

“Damian, you can’t just go asking people if they’ve died,” she hissed in a comically loud whisper.

“It was relevant to the conversation!” Damian insisted, immediately sitting back up to defend his honour. Steph tweaked his nose and he properly growled, gearing up to tackle her.

“It was rude, Dami,” Dick coaxed gently, coming from the windowsill to the couch to scoop Damian into his arms.

The only one of them who could have done it and survived. Damian glowered up at him too, then folded his arms and scowled at the floor.

Dire retributions would surely be incoming.

“Hey, it’s cool,” Danny caused, grinning along with the others now that the tension had broken. “He just wanted to know I’m not gonna hurt Jason, right?”

All eyes turned back to Damian, who squinted suspiciously at Danny again. Jason was ready for the flare of protectiveness this time.

Danny was fine. He could handle the demon brat, even if Dick didn’t have him in hand already.

Jason didn’t want to hurt his brother.

Which caused a different, confusing flare of protectiveness because what he needed to protect Damian from was himself, and the self same flares.

He stifled a chuckle that would probably only make things worse.

Finally Damian huffed, turning away into Dick’s arms.

“Tt. Ridiculous. I only wished to be sure you spoke the truth,” he snapped, and the room resettled.

Danny raised both hands, grinning, and Cass shuffled to rest her ear over Jason’s heart.

“Okay?” She asked softly, moving her feet from his pressure points. Jason brought his other arm up and around her, squeezing gently.

“Yeah, I’m good. Thanks,” he replied just as quietly, resting his cheek in her hair.

“Well, this does also kinda simplify things,” Danny added with a chuckle, leaning back against the couch. “I can just tell all of you; Vlad’s also been ecto…. Pit contaminated. And we can sense each other, so he’s going to know Jason is too.”

That geared the bats back up, all turning back to stare at Danny. Who grinned utterly wickedly.

“So Vladdie gets to be on the rare and extremely valued double fuckery list.”

“Is he gonna try and do anything to Jason?” Steph asked sharply, posture tensing towards the door like it might open at any second.

Tucker shrugged, moving back to lean against the couch next to Danny’s legs. He’d wisely made himself scarce when there was a chance either halfa would make a break for it.

“Like Danny said, Vlad probably won’t try anything if he knows we’re around? He can’t do his mind control on Danny so he’s gotta keep it in his pants, even if he’d rather not.”

Sam brightened, catching on to where the boys were going.

“But because Vlad is like… Obsessed with Danny for being like him, there’s a chance he’ll wanna try and adopt Jason too,” she said slowly, her smile becoming full and wicked.

“And since we’re already planning to have me and Jason caught in some indelicate way to upset the Mansons,” Danny added, utterly self satisfied, “we can fry his brain thinking he can only adopt one of us.”

“And that’s after we make him play Find The Real Danny,” Tucker jumped in, grinning broadly, “because it’s not specific enough to track a single person in a busy room. Do you guys do accents?”

Tim and Dick exchanged glances and shrugged.

“Yours wouldn’t be hard,” Tim pointed out, a smirk pulling across his own face as he nodded to Danny.

“I’d like to know why we’re also fucking with the Mansons though?” Dick asked, raising an eyebrow at Sam. Who shrugged.

“They refused to let me bring my girlfriend as a plus one. So we’re gonna ruin me for men and make them think twice next time.”

“Wait, so you’re not dating Danny?” Steph asked, proving she had been hovering during their little meet and greet.

None of the Amity Parkers seemed surprised. Not by her listening in, anyway.

Danny flushed cherry red, Tucker burst out laughing, and Sam smirked.

“Not since high school,” she said casually. Danny groped around for a throwable pillow but came up short.

For some reason, Jason felt absolutely no need to protect his king from some righteous bullying. Another fun loophole.

Must be the lack of potential stabbing.

Dick grinned suddenly, now leaning on the other arm of the couch from Tim.

“Okay, but we definitely don’t tell this part to Bruce,” he said eagerly, beckoning all the others closer. “If Jason’s job is to flirt with Sam and defile Danny, we were also here to meet Danny as Jason’s boyfriend.”

“Let Bruce think Danny’s leading you both on!” Steph finished, clapping her hands and cackling. “Oh it’s perfect!”

Sam cackled along with her, turning a much warmer smile on the other girl.

“Oh, my parents would love to trash talk Danny to him too, they’ve probably already hurried off to let him know I’m “eligible”,” she agreed with the most sarcastic air quotes Jason had ever seen.

Steph lurched immediately to her feet.

“We’re gonna miss it! Okay, so our first task is to make sure Vlad knows Danny is here, right? So he knows not to try anything on Bruce,” she added to confirm, looking between the Amity Parkers.

Danny frowned thoughtfully, touching his lower lip. Jason tried not to focus on it.

“He should know as soon as we get within proximity of each other… so probably once we’re both in the big room?”

Steph nodded sharply, turning to point to Tim.

“We need to know what he looks like. Can you get us a picture?”

Tim nodded, already tapping at his phone and rising along with Steph, the fire of planning in his eyes.

“On it. Sam and Jason need to be seen to be flirting, but Danny doesn’t have to be with them. Dick and I can wander through the crowd, keeping an eye out for Masters but keeping our faces turned away. Cass, can you help with that?”

Cass gave a thumbs up, sitting straighter and resting her head on Jason’s shoulder instead.

“Yes. Can be Dick’s eyes, signal you both.”

Tim typed a moment longer, then lowered his phone and wheeled, turning to point to Damian.

“And you should all have the photo… now. Damian, if you can get as close to Masters as you can, you can signal us too if he gets too close to Bruce or us.”

Damian nodded and glanced down at his phone, all ruffled feathers smoothing as he tucked it away and straightened his suit.

“I shall watch him for any suspicious moves. I can also run interference if he approaches Father.”

Steph nodded happily and clapped her hands, pointing both at Tucker.

“And you can join me in spying on the Mansons and recording them if they talk to Bruce, for the rest of us to enjoy later!” She declared triumphantly.

Tucker shot to his feet, grinning broadly.

“Yeah! And if they catch us we can tell them Jason and Sam are doing something, or ask if they’ve seen Danny,” he agreed, bouncing on his toes. He stuck a hand out in front of him. “Ready?”

Steph slapped her palm down on the back of his hand.

“Ready!”

The room now filled with purpose, everyone came to join Tucker, sticking their hands in in a circle, even as Damian complained about “ridiculous social rituals”.

No one else seemed to mind, tossing their hands into the air as they all whispered “BREAK!”, not wanting to be heard from the hallway.

As the room emptied, Danny hung back, catching Jason’s eye.

“So I know you’re probably not ready to talk about this,” he said softly as Sam lingered in the doorway, her back conspicuously to them, “but I just need to ask you if there was electricity involved when you died.”

Jason felt his whole body tense, less than pleasant memories rushing to the fore. Broken bones. A blade in his leg. Explosion.

No electricity.

He could see the strain on Danny’s face as his mind cleared, and shook his head.

“No. Why?” He asked warily, suddenly very concerned.

Danny made a face that did precisely nothing to lessen it, looking away.

“Because there was when I died, and Vlad knows it. And he… he can control electricity. But you’ll be fine, well, other than the usual “oh no a bad guy is shooting me with electricity”, right?”

Danny was babbling now, clearly trying to distract himself, but all Jason could see was pure, pulsing green. Before he knew he’d moved he had an arm wrapped firmly around slender shoulders, crushing Danny to his chest.

He didn’t need to be told that reminders of a ghost’s death wounds could be debilitating. He’d have known without the database. Without the catch in Danny’s voice.

“If he ever lays a fucking finger on you again I’ll fucking kill him,” he growled, his voice coming out almost as low as his helmet modulator.

Danny stiffened for just a moment in his grasp, then relaxed against him.

“I mean, I can handle myself,” he protested weakly, voice somewhat muffled in Jason’s jacket, “but I’m not gonna fight you on that one, Jay.”

It soothed something inside him, something hot in the center of his chest that burned at just the thought of anyone hurting the man in his arms.

Attacking him. Using the pain and trauma of his death against him. Attacking his king.

A gentle hand soothed up and down his spine.

Safe-protected-I’m okay-safe

It took a minute before Jason could bring himself to let go, smiling sheepishly down at Danny.

“Sorry. Guess I’m… uh, not used to dealing with anything other than rage from the pit,” he explained weakly.

It felt stupid, comparing something as soft as the urge to protect to those bloodthirsty rampages. That didn’t make it any less true.

Danny shrugged, rolling out his shoulders and grinning up at him.

“Hey, like I said. Shoulda seen me when I first changed. Anyway, shall we go make Vlad’s night a living hell?” He asked wickedly, a cheeky smile on his face.

Jason nodded and made for the door, giving Sam a small smile of appreciation. She looked between the two of them and snickered.

“Yeah, rumpling you both up in a closet’s gonna be easy breezy,” she said lazily, pushing the door open again. “You should trade ties.”

Danny’s hand flew to his throat and he chuckled softly, then shook both of his hands out.

“Okay… time to go make sure Vladdie knows I’m around,” he sighed, cracking his neck. Like he was limbering up for a fight?

Jason cocked a brow, taking Sam’s arm.

“What are you gonna do?” He asked as they moved out into the hall, back towards the ballroom.

Danny shot him a quick grin.

“Expand my aura to cover the whole room. He’ll know I’m flexing, and he won’t be able to miss it. Should help confuse him about Tim and Dick too, since the whole place is gonna feel like me,” he added, and Jason grinned.

Alright, that was gonna be a useful trick. Time to see that famous Ghost King aura put to the test.

He wasn’t really expecting to feel a change really. He was close enough that Danny’s aura was still brushing gently over his, soothing the pit that he was right there.

Ready and close if Jason needed to protect him.

And then Danny’s brows furrowed for a moment, he flexed his shoulders back, and Jason was surrounded in pulsing waves of DANNY-DANNY-DANNY.

He didn’t know he’d stumbled until Sam caught him, her hand small on his chest right over the thudding pulse of his heart.

He barely felt her touch. All he could see, all he could hear, all he could feel was the raw power surging out of the man beside him.

Feeling Frostbite in the Far Frozen had been overwhelming. This… this rewrote the beat of his heart, crawled with his breath into his lungs, curled around every deep and intimate part of himself.

It made him feel tiny and delicate, swept up and held off his feet by Danny’s sheer presence. Crowded and pushed up against the wall, held in place, and Danny wasn’t even fucking trying.

Everything was right in the world. His King was here. The pit fucking sang in his veins.

Aaaand Jason hadn’t been this hard in dress pants since he’d been an excitable teenager who couldn’t help it. Eyes closing, he swayed back against the hallway wall.

He could just barely feel Sam’s hand still on his chest, a grounding point as he sucked in deep breaths. Heard her snicker as the ringing in his ears began to die down.

“You’re getting better at that, Danny,” she noted, and Jason hissed.

This could have been worse? More? How?

And then Danny’s hand was at his shoulder too and he didn’t need to open his eyes to know it. Knew the touch, the feel, the way the pit surged warmth to the spot.

Heard Danny’s soft voice as though it were being broadcast straight into his head.

“Hey, you okay?” He asked quietly, and Jason honestly wasn’t sure.

Think about Bruce’s old underwear commercials. Jane Austen novels. Alfred’s expression if Jason ruined his good pants this fucking early into a party.

Later, maybe, it’d give a flare of authenticity but Danny almost certainly wouldn’t be down.

Danny. There was someone here who wanted to hurt Danny.

Jason’s eyes snapped open and he sucked in another deep breath. It was still redolent of Danny’s aura, still cupping him on every side, but he had a purpose now. A job to do.

He managed a slightly strained smile.

“‘M fine. It’s just a shock.” He cleared his throat, reaching down to tug at the front of his trousers as subtly as he could. “Is, uh… is it always like that?”

Danny looked confused for a moment, still concerned, but it was easier to miss the pulsing beat of his emotions now. Easier to focus.

He’d protect Danny’s feelings too, but he couldn’t do that if he was overwhelmed.

Who knew he’d be this into feeling like he was drowning in someone?

Finally Danny shrugged, glancing out towards the ballroom.

“I wouldn’t know… it doesn’t feel all that different to me. Just like everyone in the room is now inside my personal space,” he added, pulling a face.

Jason stared at him for a long moment, wondering how the hell he was going to ask. If he even wanted to mention the effects it had had - was still having, cleaning guns, Alfred in lace, Vlad was still here.

Nope.

Just. Nope. Not opening that can of worms today.

If Danny didn’t know that just feeling him all around him like that was gonna send Jason to horny jail, Jason was just never gonna tell him. And if Vlad had an even similar reaction, Jason would double kick his ass.

Hauling himself away from the wall, Jason cleared his throat again and fixed his jacket.

“Alright… I’m good. Shall we?” He asked Sam, offering her his arm this time. She gave him a quick up and down, raised a brow, but didn’t comment.

“Sure you are,” she chuckled softly, taking his arm with a reluctant half smile, turning back to Danny. “Are you gonna stick close, or do you wanna recon Vlad?”

Danny considered it for a moment, moving with them as they returned to the hall. Then he shrugged.

“I might go take a peek, but if I see your parents I’ll third wheel back on over. You guys should go mosey,” he added, waving a hand quickly.

Jason nodded, tucking Sam closer, turned back to the room, and… froze. Sam, utterly unaffected, made it a couple steps forward before she noticed and turned back, frowning.

“Hey, what’s up?” She asked in a low whisper, eyes flicking around them.

Good fucking question.

Jason closed his eyes, sucking in a slow breath and trying to work out what had shot down his spine like cold water. Brows furrowed, he tried to will his feet to move.

Took a step backwards and opened his eyes again, frowning back at Sam.

“Alright, I didn’t mean to do that,” he hissed, head turning automatically… to where Danny had taken a couple of steps away.

Green surged below his skin, asking what the fuck he thought he was doing. Abandoning his post. Leaving his king.

There was someone here who’d hurt him, who’d used his fucking death against him, and Jason was gonna what? Not be close enough to break his fingers for thinking it?

Eyes closed for a moment, Jason weighed the odds he could just push this down and keep going. Felt Sam tuck closer. They did have a whole ass plan…

Felt a sudden wash of concern-what’s wrong-protect from the surrounding warmth of Danny.

And sighed, shaking his head, pulling Sam with him after Danny. With each step the green sung, a deep satisfaction not his own rising inside.

He gave Danny a sheepish smile and a shrug.

“I don’t think I can leave you alone. Not if he’s here,” he added a little more quietly, well aware they were being watched once again.

Confusion flashed across Danny’s face for a moment, then he groaned and slapped himself in the forehead.

“Fucking Clockwork… alright, we stick together. Tim and Dick will have plenty of fun with Vlad anyway,” he said, grin slowly spreading again as he tucked himself in to Sam’s other side.

“And we can have more fun with my parents,” Sam pointed out innocently, scanning the crowd around them. Shot them both a sidelong glance each, half smirking. “And I get two lots of cute arm candy.”

Danny and Jason turned automatically to look each other over, Jason’s grin broadening as Danny’s cheeks flushed.

Dick had said he looked a treat in this suit. Must have been right about something.

Suddenly Danny’s aura was all very studious and concentrated nothing to see here.

Jason bit the inside of his lip to keep from laughing, letting his eyes trail a little slower over his king’s frame.

Wherever Danny had gotten his suit from, they knew a thing or two about tailoring. It fit him well, emphasising the lean lines of his legs and torso. Didn’t quite square off his shoulders.

Jason still hadn’t had much practice with projecting his own emotions back, but he had the feeling his… appreciation got through when Danny’s blush darkened.

Grinning down at Sam, Jason patted her hand.

“Only if my code name’s Gummy Bear.”

A startled laugh from Danny was the reaction he’d been going for. Sam’s sudden, utterly wicked smile was a lot more concerning.

“Alright. Danny’s is gonna be Jawbreaker,” she decided, her gaze darting briefly down to Jason’s lips as she smirked.

Jason looked away quickly, his own cheeks uncomfortably warm as Danny choked.

***

Vlad Masters smiled to himself as he moved through the crowd, a shark among minnows. Their vacuous chatter was a soothing background noise; practically already the emptying of their pocket books.

Oh, he didn’t like to come to Gotham, not with that Bat that flapped around. The Bat didn’t like metas, or people who could do just a little more than curl up and die.

But, well, this had been an opportunity just too sweet to pass up.

He could dip his toes in Daniel’s new haunt, remind the boy that he’d never be too far away if he needed him. He could get a look at this son of Bruce Wayne’s, that had died and come back.

And just maybe he’d get a claw into Wayne Enterprises, and get a look at some of their latest technology for his own… uses.

Yes, Vlad was feeling productive just being here, even if he did have to keep his ghostly abilities on lock.

He drifted through the crowd, joining conversations, sniffing out weaknesses, moving on. Oh, some of these wealthy types thought they were hunters too, he could see it in their eyes.

He’d made his fortune by taking from those types of men and letting them see what true power looked like. It was much more satisfying to break a man who thought he was unbreakable.

Bruce Wayne wasn’t one of that type, but he had something that Vlad wanted. Still, the man seemed vacuous enough, all laughing and drink and flirting.

He’d handed control of his company to his teenaged son (and oh Vlad was a little jealous of him for thinking of that move… if only Daniel was more… pliable).

But Vlad could see himself letting Brucie keep at least some of his assets. The man was entertaining, and it’d show Daniel he’d listened.

He could change. In ways that weren’t too… inconvenient for him.

And then he’d have a shield in Gotham, and Wayne could deal with that meddlesome Bat, and he could pay Daniel a visit.

He’d just caught sight of his true quarry, standing in a small circle of fawning admirers when the felt the Presence flood the room.

It sent a shiver up his spine and he locked his knees, refusing to let any weakness show as the air filled with the heavy static of Daniel.

So the boy was here? Interesting. He’d have a chance to see his Little Badger even before he left the party.

He had seen the Mansons on the guest list and he had to wonder if the lad had finally gotten closer to his little goth friend. Close enough to be a plus one?

The elder Mansons would surely hate that, and make that hatred known. Unless Vlad were to… step in. Save the boy from their judgemental stares.

Remind them that Daniel may not be from a wealthy family, but he was still connected to the Masters name.

Yes, this was wonderfully good news and Vlad felt almost chipper, a spring in his step as he advanced on Wayne. Oh, the boy was flaring off, showing Vlad he had some power too, but Vlad wasn’t here to fight.

All he needed was to set up one simple meeting between himself and Wayne, and then all of tonight could be for his Little Badger. Imagine, Vlad Masters having the chance to play the hero.

He was most definitely looking forward to it. And ah yes, here they were, the Mansons already at Bruce Wayne’s elbow, chattering away.

Everything really was coming up Vlad.

**

Bruce had met the Mansons before of course, at other charity events across the country. They were… well, pretty much exactly the type of nouveau riche he kept his children away from at all costs.

Never impolitely, of course. Never letting on how their false smiles and honeyed lies made his gut squirm in distaste. He was always cordial, and could safely rely on the effect his smile had on both of the couple.

But they weren’t what you’d call close, even in gala circles, so it was something of a surprise when they sought him out.

“Ah, Brucie! There you are, good to see you,” the husband, Jeremy, called jovially as they approached, clapping him on the back.

Bruce gave them one of his better Brucie smiles, returning the gesture with a calculated firmness.

“Jeremy! Wonderful to see you,” he greeted them both exuberantly, eyes discretely scanning both to try and work out what they wanted. They always wanted something.

The wife, Pamela his mental rolodex said, simpered up at him, clutching at her husband’s arm.

“Of course we were simply delighted to hear that your son was found, we couldn’t possibly miss the party!” She gushed, letting her hand flutter over his. “You know, our Samantha is about the same age.”

Ah.

Well, that was a first. For Jason, anyway; Tim and Damian both had plenty of parents hopefully thrusting their children his way. Even Dick was subject to occasional propositions.

Jason had barely been his long enough to be considered eligible when he’d… well.

Bruce would mention it to Dick later, so his eldest could tease Jason about this latest milestone. Best not broach the subject himself.

He cranked the wattage on his smile down a little, looking carefully behind the couple.

“Yes, I believe I’ve met Samantha before,” he said genially, mind scanning through his gala notes.

Samantha Manson. Usually seen in elaborate pink and frilly gowns, always seen utterly despising them. Quiet, rebellious eyes.

At least Jason might find someone tolerable to talk to.

“Is she here tonight?” He finished, like he hadn’t personally memorised the guest list.

Pamela and Jeremy Manson. Samantha Manson. And plus one.

Plus one? Clearly someone the parents found less agreeable than Jason, and Bruce couldn’t help feeling sorry for the poor kid.

Jeremy was already nodding cheerfully, a sparkle in those eyes that put Bruce on edge.

“Oh yes, she’s off talking to your boy right now in fact,” he said with a very self satisfied chuckle, shooting Bruce a knowing look. “I think they quite hit it off.”

“Poor Jason was just telling us how few friends he has his own age, and of course Samantha would much prefer his company than being stuck with her parents,” Pamela trilled, giving Bruce a knowing look of her own, about three shades smuttier than her husband’s.

He could very, very easily believe that, even with as little time as he’d spent with the elder Mansons. Still, best not let them get their hopes up.

“How lovely! I’m sure Jason will keep her well entertained, he has his own plus one for the evening and he does thrive with an audience.”

He’d been expecting them to dim a little at the mention of a plus one, and if not maybe to delicately hint that the current partner was male.

Bruce might not personally know how serious Jason was in this new relationship, but he’d have his son’s back against any of the gala harpies.

He was not expecting them both to beam even brighter.

“Why, that’s the best thing!” Pamela beamed, clapping her hands. “His plus one, Tucker Foley, is Samantha’s very best friend! They’ve been close since high school, very close,” she added proudly, like she’d curated the friendship herself.

Bruce was beginning to think he’d have to mention he knew Samantha also had a plus one when Jeremy nodded happily.

“And of course Samantha brought along her other friend, Daniel from home too, so we were quite concerned the boys might run off together and leave our little girl on her lonesome, but your Jason really took a shine to her!”

Something sharpened in Bruce’s spine, catching at his attention.

“Daniel?” He asked, innocently as he could, and spotted Steph and a young Black man heading their way. Certainly she’d hang back to get more information. “Would I know him?”

Pamela’s face scrunched for a moment before smoothing back into a perfect, empty smile.

“Oh, I very much doubt it. The boy is from a rather disreputable family I’m afraid, very bad influences, but our Samantha has never shied from offering her hand in friendship.”

Bruce took a moment to compare this sentence to the young woman he remembered, barely covering seething resentment under a very similar empty smile.

Friendship. Yes, he could see her offering that to literally anyone her parents disapproved of.

But if this was the same “Danny” Jason was getting involved with, it was his fatherly duty to learn what he could.

He schooled his face to his best politely interested morbid fascination.

“Oh? Please tell me more.”

**

Steph and Tucker sped up as they caught sight of Bruce, Steph leaning in to whisper,

“Are those the Mansons talking to him?”

Tucker nodded, slipping around to the other side of her for partial cover.

“Yeah, that’s them… wonder what they’re saying, he looks so concerned,” he whispered back, and Steph snickered.

“That’s his “your problems are so fascinating tell me everything” face,” she explained quietly, turning to plant her back to the nearest small table.

This one held a small crystal sculpture that was probably supposed to symbolize something, but she wasn’t gonna look twice. Instead she slipped her phone out of a discrete pocket and hit record.

Tucker took a moment to admire the new tech, leaning around her with an intrigued smile.

“Oh, is that the new WayneTech phone? Can I see?” He asked, brightening up.

Steph grinned and shook her head, carefully angling it to point at Bruce and the Mansons without making it look intentional.

“Not the newest release, but the one before. Tim lost a bet so he had to give me some free upgrades,” she added when Tucker looked confused.

“But aren’t you one of the Waynes? Why would you be a release behind?” He sounded honestly dumbfounded and Steph hid a snicker.

He sounded like Tim every time she turned down one of Bruce’s toys.

“I’m really just a family friend, and I don’t wanna have to get a whole new phone every time Tim or his nerd team has a new idea. You can look later, I wanna catch what they’re saying,” she hissed and he reluctantly quieted, still looking at her like she was crazy.

Yeah.

Tim 2.0. She was gonna have to text Connor later.

Tuck pulled his PDA out and she half expected him to start recording too, but instead he pulled up a handy decoy screen so he could pretend to be showing her something.

And…

Tapped into the video currently being recorded on her phone. She raised a brow and he grinned back, tapping a few buttons and boosting the volume.

“There are some advantages to upgrading your tech,” he said smugly and pulled out a pair of earbuds, offering her one.

They pulled them out about five minutes later.

Steph clapped her hand over her mouth, fighting down giggles as she dropped the earbud into Tucker’s hand.

“Holy fucking shit to people still actually talk like that?” She hissed between her teeth. Tucker, also fighting laughter, stuffed the headphones back into a pocket.

“Yeah, honestly? My mom loves Saturday morning soaps and even she’d call that overplayed,” he snickered, shaking her head.

“You’d think Danny ate their fucking cat, what the hell happened there?” Steph asked, lips pressing tightly shut on another laugh as she made awkward eye contact with some passing guests.

“Honestly? Nothing, they just don’t like his parents, and that makes Danny a “hoodlum”,” Tucker rolled his eyes and grinned, flipping his PDA to a different channel, and then suddenly flipping back. “Aaaaand shit, that’s Vlad. This is gonna be good.”

Steph pulled the PDA quickly from his hands as he lunged back into a pocket.

“Quick, get them back, there is no way I’m missing this!”

**

Vlad couldn’t say he was honestly surprised to walk in on the Mansons telling some outlandish story that was almost all sly innuendo. It was why Pamela came to these parties after all.

What was surprising was the way Wayne’s face grew more and more serious as she spoke, painting a picture of Daniel as some kind of delinquent thug.

Which, to be fair, wasn’t an entirely inaccurate picture of the boy on his worse days, but hardly represented his best.

And if he reached into just a hint of ghostly stealth to come up behind her, well, watching Pamela Manson startle as he cut in with a well placed greeting was more than worth it.

“My, that does sound like a fascinating story Pamela! And you say this was young Daniel?” He asked, watching with satisfaction as both Mansons spun to stare.

“Brucie” gave him a sharp, almost assessing look too, much more thoughtful than he usually bothered with. Interesting.

Pamela brightened when she recognized him, beckoning him in.

“Oh, yes! Vlad, do join us, I was just telling Brucie here about some of those silly ghost adventures Daniel would pull Samantha into in high school!” She clearly expected him to join in.

Ah, but today Vlad’s role was to be Daniel’s hero, not Phantom’s nemesis. And maybe to see just what had managed to rub two brain cells together in Wayne’s famously amicable head.

He gave her a fond smile, nodding in greeting to the men and taking his place in their circle.

“Why, Pamela, I do hope you’re not disparaging my godson before Mr Wayne even has a chance to say hello?” It was a calculated guess, but honestly.

However Daniel got into this party (and he would put money on his dear goth friend Sam herself), he wouldn’t be introduced to the man holding the purse strings.

From the corner of his eye he also caught a very familiar red beret, and his brow quirked slightly.

Daniel, Sam, and Tucker Foley, all in one place. They must have heard he’d be coming.

How… adorable.

His smile spread as Pamela’s faded, even as Brucie turned to offer him a hand and a warm smile.

“Mr Masters, yes? I believe we’ve met at a few of these before,” the man said, all charm and sunshine.

Vlad shook the offered hand firmly, resisting the urge to just poke directly into his mind.

Tucker was listening. Best give him something interesting to report.

“Yes, I wasn’t aware you knew the Mansons too? One of our finest families in Amity Park,” he purred, giving them both an almost predatory smile.

Jeremy puffed up under it like it was actual praise, but Pamela was still watching him curiously.

“Oh yes, we’re going to be quite close,” she said airily, giving Brucie a secretive smile.

The man didn’t quite return it, the same friendly, open smile not changing in the slightest.

More interesting still.

“And perhaps you and I will be getting closer too, Vlad. Can I call you Vlad?” He asked, and Vlad’s smile widened.

“Of course. Is there something I should know?” He asked, half teasing.

Brucie’s expression flickered almost too fast to see. Something like actual thought under that big soft smile.

“It seems that my son Jason has been spending time with young Samantha and Daniel,” he explained, still sounding just the same cheery fool.

Vlad’s smile widened further, and he took a moment to reign himself in. It wouldn’t do for him to stretch too far. It could make people nervous.

“Oh, how wonderful!” He exclaimed happily, rubbing his hands together. “I was hoping to congratulate him personally on his return, it is quite a rare feat!”

And if Daniel was sniffing around him, that added credence to the rumours that the boy really had died. And possibly changed.

Now, if he could just speak to the young Jason alone, see how easily he could be swayed… if the boys were already friends, perhaps he could even plead Vlad’s case to Daniel directly.

Brucie gave him a dazzling smile, gesturing to Pamela jovially.

“Well, I certainly hope so! From Mrs Manson’s stories I was beginning to worry that Jason might be falling into some rough company.”

Vlad gave the woman a smile that would have chilled if he’d had Daniel’s ice core, but instead crackled with his own electricity.

“Oh, young Daniel may be a bit rough around the edges, but there’s no more loyal boy anywhere in the country,” he assured Wayne smoothly, and noted Tucker and the blonde girl he was with breaking away.

Off to report to Daniel, then. Good.

“Really, you can judge best when you meet him yourself,” Vlad all but purred, watching them go, “after all, you yourself know all about taking young men from rough circumstances and polishing them to a shine.”

Brucie’s smile was all proud paternal joy as he looked out across the room, and for a moment Vlad wondered how many of his interminable brood had actually come.

A young man was very suddenly at Brucie’s side and even the man himself seemed to startle, but his smile only grew as he clapped the boy on the shoulder.

“And here’s one of them now! Mr and Mrs Manson, Vlad, this is my youngest son Damian.”

The boy certainly had Bruce’s jawline, and the same wide eyes the press so loved, even if the eyes themselves were green. Any other similarities would be hard to spot as the boy fixed Vlad with a glare that could have been Daniel’s.

“Good evening,” he said curtly, and Vlad pressed his lips together to keep from chuckling.

“Why, such a stern young man!” Pamela cooed beside him, bending down to give her sweetest smile to the boy. Wilting just a little when he turned the glare on her.

Brucie’s hand tightened momentarily on the boy’s shoulder and his expression immediately smoothed out.

“I’m sure he’d much rather be off with his friends, but he was good enough to come tonight and support his brother,” Brucie explained cheerfully, giving Damian a proud smile.

“Wonderful to see young people who understand the importance of family,” Vlad nodded, keeping half an eye on the boy as he spoke. His eyes had narrowed just a little, probably looking for a patronizing tone.

At these kinds of parties, it’d likely be all he heard.

Still, Vlad settled in to make some idle small talk, whiling away the time until dinner. No serious business would be discussed until after the meal after all.

Perhaps he could persuade Brucie to introduce him to Jason.

**

It was Steph who zeroed in on Jason’s flash of white hair first, but Tucker who crashed almost directly into Danny and hissed the news.

“Vlad’s here and he’s complimenting you!”

Danny stumbled back to catch them both, staring in bewilderment.

“He’s fucking what?” He asked incredulously. Tucker nodded quickly, grabbing his elbows.

“Seriously, he basically told the Mansons to fuck off for badmouthing you,” he hissed, and now Sam was intrigued too.

“Vlad? Our Vlad? “Phantom is the greatest threat our city has ever known” Vlad?” She asked.

Danny elbowed her sharply and she rolled her eyes, but Steph definitely noted it down to ask later. Tucker nodded again, faster than before.

“Right? He’s definitely up to something.”

“Could be his new plan to win you over,” Steph added, closing the rest of the distance to tuck herself into the group.

Danny paused for a moment then grimaced and shook his head.

“Nah, it’s never that simple with Vlad. He knows I’m not gonna just hear some kind words and fall into his arms.”

Sam rolled her eyes, turning and firmly piloting their new cluster to one of the windows, out of the way of the less nosy eyes.

“Danny, it’s Vlad. He’s still convinced your mom just needs to be alone with him for five minutes to fall head over heels, no matter how many times she karate chops him.”

Which, yes, Steph was adding that to the questions list too, a smile tugging at her lips. She cut them off anyway, making pointed eye contact with Jason.

“Not that this doesn’t already sound fun, but I’m also pretty sure I just saw Selina Kyle,” she told him sweetly, and had the joy of watching him actually blue screen.

Just. Stared into space for fifteen seconds.

Then sighed and scrubbed both hands down his face.

“Of fucking course she is. Why not? Does anyone wanna call the Joker, see if he wants to join too?” He asked sarcastically, tossing both hands into the air.

Steph snickered and rose on her tiptoes to ruffle his hair, ignoring the confusion of their new friends.

“Hey, look at it this way. She’ll keep Bruce off your ass,” she offered cheerfully and Jason groaned louder, giving the window a speculative look like he was considering jumping out of it.

Tempting.

Sam leaned in, giving them both a sharp look.

“Who’s Selina Kyle?” She asked bluntly, and Steph paused for just a moment, wondering how best to put it.

How to describe the fucking disaster that was Batman and Catwoman to someone who couldn’t know either of their identities. Ah, yes, she knew.

“Bruce’s kleptomaniac ex-and-sometimes-current girlfriend. Every single conversation they have is riddled with innuendo and pussy jokes that she makes, and she’s been around since Jason was knee high.”

“So she’s got stories?” Tucker asked, eyes brightening as she twigged.

Jason turned and pointed his most menacing finger at him.

“She does not have fucking stories and you do not want to talk to her, she’ll steal the filings from your teeth,” he warned sharply.

Danny’s lips moved soundlessly for a moment and then suddenly the most wicked glee Steph had ever seen from anyone not a sibling lit his face.

“Jason… she has pixie boot stories, doesn’t she?” He asked in a low hiss, and Steph’s brows shot straight to her hairline.

Jason had only ever willingly worn pixie boots for one reason. Guess things with Danny were serious serious.

So how much had Jason told him?

From the way he was now glaring warningly at Danny, and Sam was rounding on Jason with intrigue, glee, and a complete lack of understanding, it was just Danny for now.

“We’re not talking to or about Selina,” he hissed, crowding up into Danny’s space and ooooh Steph wasn’t too worried about their mutual secret to miss that cute little blush on Danny’s cheeks.

Which also didn’t stop the man himself from grinning up at Jason, even if he did have to crane his neck back to do it.

“Does she have pictures?” He asked with a genuinely wicked glee that Steph just adored.

“Pictures of you in pixie boots?” Sam cut in, crowding up to Jason’s other side.

And now Jason’s cheeks were flushing red.

“They were in fashion at the time!” He defended weakly, and Steph had to laugh at that.

“Yeah, them and mullets,” she cackled and Jason shot her a scowl too.

“Weren’t you guys supposed to be keeping an eye on someone?” He asked sharply, changing the subject like that had ever worked.

Didn’t work on Tucker either apparently, and Steph liked that in a man as the Black guy gave Jason that pure and innocent smile.

“Yeah, Bruce and the Mansons, but that part of the show’s over. Damian’ll let us know if anything happens,” he dismissed easily, and Jason scowled.

Steph braced herself for the flare of green, especially when it had already been so close tonight, and was almost shocked when it didn’t come. When was the last time Jason had glared so much without it?

Maybe Danny did know what he was doing.

The rest of their families’ secrets notwithstanding, she decided that for the moment she had to approve.

It’d be subject to change, a bat never planned against new intel, but for now? She liked Danny. He was honest, easy going, and made her brother blush in ways she’d never seen before.

There were clearly secrets, but he’d dropped a big one on them already with his own Lazarus exposure. Secrets never lasted long in this family anyway, but Steph could wait on digging for these.

She had much more important things to do, like tease Jason mercilessly.

For now, she popped up on his other side to press a kiss to his cheek and ruffle his hair again.

“Well, I’m gonna go find Dick and let him know Selina’s around. Tucker, do you wanna find Tim? If he has you beside him Vlad’s way more likely to be confused,” she added innocently.

Like Tucker’s eyes hadn’t always lit up at the chance to hang out with Tim. She’d be offended if she hadn’t also seen the appeal.

The smirk Sam shot her meant the other girl definitely knew what she was doing, and Steph took a moment to grin back.

Yeah. Getting Sam Manson’s number before the night ended, preferably willingly. Girls gotta stick together, and mercilessly bully their mlm besties.

Tucker hesitated a moment longer, clearly also dying for pixie boot stories, but in the end his nerdery won. Surprising no one.

“Yeah, we’ll go spread the word,” he agreed dramatically, like it was all down to him. Then he pointed back at Jason, utterly unintimidated by a full mountain of muscle. “But I want pictures too!”

“No one’s getting pictures,” Jason said firmly, and Steph danced carefully out of earshot.

“I know where Alfred keeps the scrapbooks,” she called in a sing song voice, and was a little surprised not to even feel anticipation when Jason lunged at her.

Teasing him was usually a careful game, something she had to put her mind into. Watching the pit, calculating his limits, ready to fully run if he broke.

But he was so fun to tease, and it felt… yeah. Nice to wind him up like Dickie or Tim, or Bruce himself. Nice not to be prepared for a sudden attack.

It wasn’t like she’d have ever stopped if he had lashed out anyway.

Danny was good for him, for whatever reason. She shot them both finger guns, heading back for the middle of the room.

“Try not to get into anything scandalous,” she called, loud enough to turn a couple heads. Which would only help their primary, Manson related plans.

Jason flipped her off while Tucker hurried after her, chuckling to himself.

“So, scrapbooks?” He asked hopefully, and Steph shot him finger guns too.

“Not tonight, but it’s happening. We need a group chat.”

“We so fucking do.”

**

Bruce was not having a fun evening.

He’d been happy Jason had found a guest to bring. Over the moon, really. He needed a life outside of his crimes.

Less happy that Jason had held out on the name of his guest, only sending it when Bruce would be too busy to properly investigate, but he couldn’t exactly blame him.

Bruce knew he could be paranoid and overbearing, his kids made sure to remind him constantly. And Jason deserved privacy.

But it had quickly become clear that “Tucker Foley” and “Pit Helping Danny” were not the same person. Whoever Jason wanted to introduce them to, it wasn’t just his mystery date.

Fortunately one had led neatly to the other, the Mansons revealing the trick quite by accident. And they’d known a lot more about Real Danny too.

None of it predisposed Bruce well to the boy.

Apparently he was reckless, lazy, trouble prone, unmotivated, and a very bad influence.

It felt fucking stupid when he knew full well that Jason was a crime lord and official serial killer, but Bruce just didn’t want him to get into any more trouble.

And if this Daniel Fenton was still half the boy the Mansons knew, there was a whole other world of shady exploits he could be dragging Jason into.

Ghost hunters. Really.

Everyone knew about Amity Park’s “ghost problem”; a cheap way to drum up tourist dollars, just like Bigfoot sightings.

They’d tried calling the Justice League out more than once, but Constantine had marked it as a no fly zone. Which meant there was nothing supernatural there worth bothering with.

The regular Justice League had no time for claims of magical mayhem.

Vladimir Masters had been interesting too, both on the Amity Park perspective and in news about Danny.

As the boy’s godfather of course his opinion could be biased, but according to him Danny was a loyal, kind hearted young man. Still rough and tumble but hardly dangerous.

And he’d been right; Bruce had plenty of experience with that type of young person. He’d soon be able to tell just what this Fenton was.

But Masters could be a useful source there, both for information and potentially sympathy. He’d seemed to understand Bruce’s concerns quite well.

Perhaps after dinner he could catch up with the man again. Make some plans, a meeting somewhere a little more private, where his children wouldn’t all be listening in.

He didn’t want to give them the impression that he didn’t trust Jason to handle himself.

He was just.

Concerned.

Jason hadn’t been himself since before they’d buried him, tangled in that mess of his birth mother. He’d done terrible things, but he’d been lost.

Bruce would do all he could to help his boy find himself again, even if that meant taking a more subtle approach. He wouldn’t let Jason be taken advantage of.

Meeting with Masters would have to wait, however, because as they’d been chatting he’d caught sight of an unfortunately familiar slinky black dress.

He’d excused himself from the adults and slipped past Damian with a meaningful look, and followed her trail through the crowds.

She slipped through easily, winding between people and Bruce could easily guess just how many would be finding their pockets all the lighter for it.

He had to go a little slower, his broad shoulders making him more noticeable and kept him from her tighter squeezes, but she couldn’t avoid him forever.

For one thing, she clearly didn’t want to. He finally caught up at the foot of the stairs to the entrance, turned away from him to admire the lion statue at the base of the banister.

“Bruce,” she greeted without turning, leaning back and just knowing where he’d be. He hated being predictable, and yet… he couldn’t disappoint her.

“Selina. I didn’t realize you were coming.” He’d checked the guest list twice today, but there were always so many plus ones. He hadn’t invited her, but that’d never stopped her before.

She tipped her chin up to smile at him, hearing every unsaid word.

“And miss young Jason’s return? Why Bruce, I’ve known the boy almost as long as you have, I’m happy to see him alive and well.” It was a gentle reprimand, and for a moment he wondered if she’d expected an invitation.

If he should have asked Jason if he’d like her there. But then, which of his children had ever liked it when Selina came around?

Not least because she always broke the rules, and he always found himself letting her. Never the most important, never the one Jason broke, but…

Selina wasn’t his weakness, he didn’t have one. But she was a distraction.

He smiled back, calculated, charming. The one she liked to see in public.

“Of course. Have you seen him?” She might have valuable insights into Jason’s condition, though she’d refused to get involved since his… original return.

Not getting caught in family squabbles. He’d always liked that about her.

She hummed softly, leaning more of her weight into his chest, hand reaching up over her head to caress his chin.

“Not yet, but I’ll say hi eventually. Rumour has it he’s growing quite the harem,” she purred, and Bruce damn near choked.

Harem? Jason?!

“Oh?” Was all he managed, and even then he knew she heard the strain when he felt a low chuckle rumble through her back.

“Word has it the young Samantha Manson and her own date are both all over him. Poor boy, and his own plus one is being borrowed by half the Waynes. What have you been teaching those boys?” She teased, fingertips running just shy of his lower lip.

Definitely feeling where it puckered slightly into one of his minimal frowns. Nothing he’d heard about this “Danny” was setting him at ease.

Still, best not to let anything too real show.

“He’s always been good at making friends,” he allowed, gaze now scanning the rest of the room for his son.

Selina chuckled again, finally stepping away and turning to face him, giving him an appreciative once over.

“Now that’s a lot tamer than what I heard. I’ve heard that they’ve already bustled off to the back rooms, and reemerged en déshabillé,” she purred, and Bruce tensed.

Jason wouldn’t. Not with a stranger. Not at a gala.

True, it wasn’t on the (long, extensive) list of forbidden gala behaviours, but that was because it didn’t have to be.

Jason didn’t like following any of his other rules.

Jason was an adult. Bruce wasn’t… a fool. He was aware that quite a few of his children had grown up. And may, possibly, in an abstract way, have a sex life.

He didn’t like to fucking think about it at the best of times, but Jason? Who couldn’t control himself, who had those unpredictable rages?

No, he did not like that thought at all. His face must have set into stern lines because Selina’s hand was on his cheek again, brushing like she could smooth them out.

“Now now, Bruce. He’s twenty-two. Remember what you were like at that age?” She cooed, and that really didn’t help.

“That’s different,” he growled, keeping to the Brucie ranges with the iron control he’d prided himself on. The control Jason lacked.

Selina examined his expression for a moment longer then shook her had, patting his face just barely shy of being a slap. He caught her hand, gaze whipping round to focus on her again.

Just what she’d wanted, of course.

“Darling, you can’t stop him. You two are on rocky enough ground as it is, hmm?” She reminded him gently, voice low.

His grip tightened on her wrist, gaze flashing across her person.

“And if I searched your pockets right now, how many stolen rocks would I find on your person?” He asked equally quietly. Not changing the subject.

Just a good question.

Her eyes narrowed for a moment, then her lips curled into a smile and she stepped closer.

“Well if Jason’s left the back rooms free, you can search me as closely as you’d like,” she purred, pressing herself to him from shoulder to thigh.

And definitely felt him twitch in annoyance, grip tightening again. He forced himself to let go, step away, before his reactions could betray him further.

“Enough, Selina. Why are you really here?” He asked sharply, carefully balancing the line between Brucie casual and the answers he wanted.

She looked him over for a moment more then shook her head, half smiling.

“Touchy touchy. I’m here to give my best wishes to Jason, darling. Nothing more. And if some of these jumped up little pheasants find their tails a little lighter for it, I don’t think you really care, do you?” She asked rhetorically, turning away to slink back into the crowd.

Bruce considered following her. Pushing for more, working out what she really wanted.

It could wait until he’d checked the back rooms. Or found Jason. Whichever came first.

—————

Part 2!

[askblog-cvesocs]

General OC Information…

Mostly about names

Today, I’ve been figuring out my character’s last names. I often, instead of writing, work more on my characters. I would love to write, but I just like.. don’t for some reason.

I have PLENTY of OCs, and background for almost all of them.

One I wanna talk about (the first topic before my sidetrack starts) is Aiden. The last name I gave him is Barkesly (It’s pronounced “barks-lee”). His name is Aiden Barkesly. At school, ya know when you have a sub and there’s always someone whose name gets butchered? Often times more than one person? Aiden is one of those people.

The ways his last name gets pronounced are like

-(“Bark-eh-sly”)

-(“Bar-kez-lee”)

There’s also Anque, (her name is pronounced “on-kay”). Some people say:

-(“Ann-kyoo”)

-(“Ann-keh”)

-something like those and other ways that people might pronounce it wrong

A few of my OCs have pretty unique names.

Some names I made up myself were

[Pyrus], [Vaunne], [Hille] (literally just hill with an e at the end), [Anque] (as I said, pronounced “on-kay”), [Vydd] (pronounced “vid”. Everyone calls her Vee. Some people don’t even know her real name is Vydd), and [Jack]. [Jack]’s nickname is [Gheej], Hille calls him that sometimes, only family and close friends call him “Gheej” (pronounced like the nickname “deej”, but with a “g” instead of a “d”).

Hille’s last name, Wyvernn, I came up with when I first made him.

(I made most of my OCs in like.. beginning or middle-ish of 2023? like around June or July maybe. ((note from like 10 minutes after writing this: actually only a few, including: Reed, Auggie, Hille and Vee)) Though, Reed, Auggie, and Hille were all kind of.. established? might be the word? in September of 2022. I know that because the draft I wrote that insipired literally their whole story—even though it was not even a chapter long and was only like five or six paragraphs long—was written or last saved in September 2022. I was looking through the few drafts I had on Wattpad, this was around June or July in 2023, I found the draft with the start of their story, and immediately I was like “OH MY GOD I was GOING somewhere with this!!!” I was extremely happy. THAT was when I started to kick writer’s block in the ass. Writer’s block is now not even existent to me. It’s both awesome and somewhat not awesome at the same time.)

For a bit, last year, I wanted to know where the heck I got “Wyvernn” from. Then someday I logged back onto Discord for The First Time In Forever™, and on the loading screen, for a BRIEF second, I saw it said (something like) “Discord used to be called Wyvern at some point. Not too proud of that one”. So I was like “OHH”.

I don’t know where the hell I got “Anque” “Pyrus” “Vaunne” and “Gheej” from, but I’m pretty proud that I made ‘em up myself. (for some reason, very proud).

that concludes this post. ★

[roosterbox]

Fic Rec Friday 8/25/23

Title: Turnabout Trickshot

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandom: 逆転裁判 | Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney

Relationships: Mitsurugi Reiji | Miles Edgeworth/Naruhodou Ryuuichi | Phoenix Wright, Garyuu Kyouya | Klavier Gavin/Odoroki Housuke | Apollo Justice

Characters: Mitsurugi Reiji | Miles Edgeworth, Naruhodou Ryuuichi | Phoenix Wright, Odoroki Housuke | Apollo Justice, Kidzuki Kokone | Athena Cykes, Naruhodou Minuki | Trucy Wright, Garyuu Kyouya | Klavier Gavin, Yahari Masashi | Larry Butz, Karuma Mei | Franziska von Karma, The Judge (Gyakuten Saiban)

Additional Tags: some made up characters for a trial too, Non-Graphic Violence, Gunshot Wounds, Blood, but its not super bad i guess??, Gun Violence, Hospitals, also i guess implied maya/franziska, turnabout i am immune to bullets, phoenix is completely fine everyone is overreacting, Humor, Fluff, Angst, rated T for the blood and some not so harsh cuss words, and a lot of talk of death, basically phoenix gets shot and miles freaks out a little

Summary: Phoenix Wright was not infallible, in fact he was a very real, very mortal man, and that would be an innocuous statement any other day, but today it might as well have been a death sentence.

———

For this week’s fic, how about something a bit more… humorous.

That’s the main thing about this one - it’s really funny. Which you might not expect from a story where one of the main characters gets shot. But aside from the first handful of paragraphs - which is Miles catastrophizing - the mood of this fic is extremely light. I’ve read a few ‘Phoenix gets seriously injured’ stories, and none of them are quite as fun as this one. Which isn’t a put-down at all! Those ones are just going for a different type of feel, you know?

Everything about this fic, even the title, feels as if it could have been an actual case in an Ace Attorney game. In fact, that’s the main thing I remembered about it when I first read this about a year ago. “Man, that title is fucking great!” I’ve never read something where the stakes are simultaneously so high (character gets shot) and yet so low (he’s fine). And a lot of the Wrightworth fics I gravitate towards have a tendency to be serious and/or sad - I blame canon not really allowing the characters to process trauma - so this one is especially a breath of fresh air. And it all feels perfectly in-character. All of the reactions, dramatic and blasé, are on point.

Favorite bit is probably Phoenix being jokingly dramatic while bleeding out, much to Athena’s distress.

“Tell Edgeworth I love him.”

“TELL HIM YOURSELF.”

It’s just a good time, man.

———

Next Week: Something soft, loving, and sweet. Time to bring in some Thorki. Which is another ship that, if it’s not your thing, I understand. If it is though, prepare yourself for some seriously tooth-rotting fluff, because damn.

Until next time!

[homestuckdailyweekly]

Homestuck Daily - Week 1- 4/21/2024

I'm back, theoretical fuckers. I said I would probably give up in a week, and then a week later, there's no update. But jokes on you, person I made up to clown on, I didn't give up! I was busy traveling this weekend, so didn't have time to write a blog until right now. Don't worry, I'm not going to tell you about my trip. I'm planning on getting off-topic in these blogs, but a short trip is about as antithetical to being Stuck at Home that I could possibly get.

Now, with that out of the way, the first week of Homestuck. Or I guess, more accurately, the 2nd-8th days of Homestuck, written on the 9th day of Homestuck. Past-me really fucked me by writing an actual update on 4/13 instead of just the intro, and I really should figure out a consistent structure to these blog updates, but that feels more like a future-me problem. And if she gets upset, well, she's the one who procrastinated on it to begin with, so won't she feel silly. Wow, the third paragraph and I still haven't talked about the actual contents of the comic. Lets change that! I'll include what I read today too, so up to page 77 of Homestuck. Just to get it out of the way, while thinking about this first week of Homestuck, I came to the conclusion that I don't think I would have kept up with the comic if I had been a true day-1 reader. That is not to say I don't enjoy this first week of comics. However, my initial read-through of Homestuck was an extreme binge where I just kept reading until I physically could not anymore. I did not have to wait a day to get what was coming next. And this hypothetical "Day 1 Reader" version of myself would not have the enjoyment of future story beats and fondness of the characters to stay engaged and up-to-dates with early Homestuck. With personal reflections over and done with, I guess I should give a quick overview of what's happened in the first week of Homestuck?

We are introduced to the first of John's friends, TG, who is messaging John asking if he has the Beta yet. Shenanigans Occur, including Sylladex-Fuckery, clever-Disguise Making, Harlequin-hating, Grandma-Urn-Toppling, Grandma-Urn-Fixing, the usual. We then meet John's second friend, TT. Then some more shenanigans, and then entering Dad's study, ending with a haunting piano refrain that is both our first [s] page and our first piece of music.

Here's a little more self-reflection, coming up with summaries is hard. And it's only going to get harder with time. Anyways, for future reference, I think I will try my best to keep plot summaries free of the curse of knowledge. And hopefully future updates will have less me making up what these updates look like as we go along.

Alright, so I said I won't talk about my trip, but the thing to know about me is that I'm a liar and a cheat, so I'm going to talk about the trip a little bit. I'm not going to dox myself by saying where I went or where I'm from, but I will say that of the 4 kids in Homestuck, I live closest to the Lalonde residence. When I realized I could pass by the theoretical location of the Lalonde residence via a very scenic route I thought "Oh that'd be fun, but I probably shouldn't base my travel plans on a whim." Then I thought I would be introduced to Rose the day I was driving, and I realized I couldn't possibly ignore that sign. (I later learned that I was, in fact, supposed to be introduced to her the night prior. my schedule has increasingly became a disappointment in terms of accurate end-points for each day of comics). So, I plotted my day's travel to take me past the real-life equivalent of the Lalonde House's coordinates, but sadly in real life it is the site of a water power plant and I was unable to stop close enough to get a picture. I also ended up in hotel room number 314 that night, and according to a friend, "backward Homestuck numbers are still Homestuck numbers".

In very silly news, I'm working on finding a good chumhandle/Title to go along with my initials EV. Since this week was our introduction to pesterchum and 3 different chumhandles, this updates seems the best time to mention it. I think I've settled on Erstwhile for the E, but the V is being tricky. I initially went with Viewer, but it seems too plain. ErstwhileVoyeur, while sounding more interesting, also has connotations I don't necessarily want. Perhaps ErstwhileVoyage, to convey this entire experiment in the metaphor of a journey. I'll think on it some more. Until next week, when I'll hopefully spend more than a tenth of the blog talking about the actual comic, -EV

[whitehotharlots]

It just wears you down

“I had fantasies of unloading a revolver into the head of any white person that got in my way, burying their body and wiping my bloody hands as I walked away relatively guiltless with a bounce in my step, like I did the world a favor.” -Dr. Aruna Khilanani, speaking in front of the Yale School of Medicine

"All things that begin in white folks are not infinite and eternal," Cooper said, "They ain’t gonna go on for infinity and infinity. And that's super important to remember." [ . . . ]  The thing I want to say to you is we got to take these motherfuckers out.

- Rutgers professor Brittany Cooper, speaking with The Root

Who or what should we blame? Twitter is an obvious and convenient culprit, as limiting expression to 140/280 characters lends credence to the delusion that every statement should be taken literally, that subtext and context are lies created to obscure the true, hidden, evil meanings of statements that would otherwise be understood in some other manner. Upon such a platform, demonization is all but inevitable. 

And then there’s the internet itself, the perpetual churn of content having replaced narrative and rendered the act of sustained reading something between atavistic and ableist. How many times, in any given day, do you encounter extreme outrage based solely upon a headline that is not born out by the actual content of an article? If outrage clicks are worth the same as genuine engagement, editors and publishers care only generating buzz--it doesn’t matter if anyone actually understands anything that is being said. 

But here I am falling into a lazy trap: blaming the platforms, denying the consciousness and agency of the purveyors. At a certain point, we need to admit that this is contemporary liberalism. This is a choice those of us on the broad left have made. We have incentivized this. We reward it. While we may make some subtle gestures towards distancing ourselves in extreme circumstances, this is, ultimately, what we chose to be the face of our beliefs, the leaders of our movement. 

This is eliminationism. I’m sorry, I know that sounds Alex Jones-ish, but there’s no other word for it.  I have known these people in real life. I have spoken to them outside of public forums. They are not joking. They are not exaggerating. They want to eliminate a large segment of the population.Those who insist this is a metaphor or a mere affect-generating exaggeration are full of shit.

Or... hmm... are they just full of shit? Most people aren’t that cynical, right? 

This type of discourse is tolerated/celebrated by today’s left because lefties still don’t fully regard non-white people as people. They don’t hate PoC, at least not outright, but they also don’t think they should be taken seriously.

Because if you do take a person seriously--if you regard them as a fully formed human being endowed with agency, rather than as an avatar for your political fantasies--you’re not going to nod and laugh and cheer when they tell you, to your face, that they fantasize about killing you.

An under-remarked facet of today’s elminationist rhetoric is that it’s not coming from a beleaguered majority attempting to wrest power from a brutal colonizing force. Yes, structural racism exists in the twenty-first century United States. And, yes, it is a major problem that deserves efforts toward remediation. But there’s no comparison of today’s USA to, say, Haiti in the late 1700′s, or even South Africa in the twentieth century. Making such a comparison is as contemptible and illiterate as the Canadian Truckers who said vaccine mandates were Nazism, or a public high school student who thinks being forced to attend gym class is equivalent to being jailed in a supermax prison.

But such comparisons are not denounced. Oh no. They are mandated. If you were to publish the paragraph immediately preceding this one under your own name, you would be subject to public censure, denied speaking engagements and publications, and perhaps at risk of losing your job. It’s very objectively true, and that’s why it’s so unspeakable. The most punishable speech is that which convincingly contradicts prevailing narratives.

Deep down, most left-identitarians know this. That’s why they tolerate open and barely equivocal calls for their own death: things aren’t that bad here in the ol’ U S of A, so surely we won’t face any major blowups--it’s fine to pour more gas on the fire, especially if it keeps Drumpf out of office. But this misunderstands both the nature of anger and the humanity of non-white people. If a person says something, you should not default to assuming that they actually don’t mean what just came out of their mouth. If a man shoots his wife because he thinks she cheated on him, she’s still dead regardless of whether or not she actually cheated. 

And here we come to the fundamental neurosis of today’s anti-racism: the belief that everyone is dishonest and that statements have no meaning, literal or otherwise. Look at one of those struggle session Zoom meetings that got posted during Covid. You’ve probably seen footage of at least one of them--if you work in a white collar setting, especially academe, there’s a good chance you’ve participated in a similar ritual: Every white person is expected to announce their racism as if it were an AA meeting. Those that do are accepted. The few that don't are branded as the Real Racists.

That's very, very weird. 

Like, if you say "My name is Mark and I'm a racist," that makes you not a racist. But if you say "I'm not going to admit to beliefs I don't actually possess," that means you must actually possess those beliefs. The only way to avoid censure is to performatively admit to the transgression that warrants censure.

This is distilled cynicism of the most malignant sort. Humans are by nature capable of conceptual distinction. We realize that if X is defined in opposition to Y, admitting to X does not actually mean you’ve admitted to Y. If we were incapable of grasping this realization, there would be no language. There would be no society. There would be no humanity. 

What I’m getting at is, the white people cajoled into making their struggle statements don’t actually believe what they’re saying. Most are probably operating under duress, just hoping to get this shit over with. The true believers view it as a purification ritual, absolving themselves of sin by admitting to sin. And the handful who are naive enough to assert dignity are shunted out of the workforce, made to go live under a bridge where they belong. 

And... jesus. This has been a theme of my recents posts, which have become more infrequent because all of this just seems so hopeless. There’s a simple question that’s sitting in front of everyone’s face but no one seems to have enough guts or decency to ask it: do we really want to normalize dishonesty? To this degree? Why is lying such a fundamental part of everyone’s worldview? Do we think this is going to end well?

Even if you can rationalize it, even if you honestly think this is just social progress and creating a society of violent, paranoid tattletales is the only route to equity, are you not capable of grasping the consequences of your demands? They’re not hidden. They’re in plain sight, as far away from your physical being as your phone is from your face. We’re calling for destruction. We are calling for mass violence. This isn’t a silly thought exercise. This is the real world, and this will end in horror. 

[lindasipsandspills]

#2 The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo

General Information:

Edition: I stumbled over the Simon & Schuster version of 2017 and picked it right up. It’s the paperback cover, since I decided to read it for fun. 

Author:  Taylor Jenkins Reid was born December 20th 1983, Maryland, U.S. Other well-known novels under her name include Daisy Jones & The Six as well as Malibu Rising.

Short synopsis (via goodreads): Aging and reclusive Hollywood movie icon Evelyn Hugo is finally ready to tell the truth about her glamorous and scandalous life. But when she chooses unknown magazine reporter Monique Grant for the job, no one is more astounded than Monique herself. Why her? Why now? Monique is not exactly on top of the world. Her husband has left her, and her professional life is going nowhere. Regardless of why Evelyn has selected her to write her biography, Monique is determined to use this opportunity to jumpstart her career. Summoned to Evelyn’s luxurious apartment, Monique listens in fascination as the actress tells her story. From making her way to Los Angeles in the 1950s to her decision to leave show business in the ‘80s, and, of course, the seven husbands along the way, Evelyn unspools a tale of ruthless ambition, unexpected friendship, and a great forbidden love. Monique begins to feel a very real connection to the legendary star, but as Evelyn’s story near its conclusion, it becomes clear that her life intersects with Monique’s own in tragic and irreversible ways.

Page count: 385 paper pages (excluding the acknowledgments)

Representations: LGBTQ+, historical fiction from the 50s to the 90s, Showbiz

Initial thoughts post-read:

I had high expectations. I would’ve never imagined them to be overthrown. I was completely taken aback by Reid’s extremely enchanting writing style. I had to either read 50-70 pages in one sitting or not read at all. It was so easy to loose oneself in this world of show business and heartbreak that it simply felt like no time was used while reading this masterpiece. Yes, masterpiece. Eternally grateful to have had it recommended to me by so many of my friends, and I am even more excited to delve into further depths with this review. 

A short note: I decided to pick sections that could perhaps ensue a wider introspection of what these specifically mean, in general, but also for the book itself. There were many beautiful quotes of which I picked the ones that resonated most with me, so by far not everything I highlighted. Enjoy!

Sections that picked my interest & interpretations: 

I trust myself. Take, for instance, when I snapped at you earlier, back at the apartment, when you said what you did about my confessing sins. It wasn't a nice thing to do, and I'm not sure you deserved it. But I don't regret it. Because I know I have my reasons, and I did the best I could with every thought and feeling that led up to it."/ "You take umbrage with the word sin because it implies that you feel sorry." [...]/ "You can be sorry about something and not regret it," Evelyn says. (p. 25-26)

I suppose this specific line was what had me hooked when it comes to the book itself. She took apart a fleeting comment and made sure a message, as well as an underlying morale could be drawn from it. I was fascinated from here on out. 

Evelyn looks at me with purpose. “Do you understand what I'm telling you? When you're given an opportunity to change your life, be ready to do whatever it takes to make it happen. The world doesn't give things. You take things. If you learn one thing from me, it should probably be that.” (p. 35)

I have to agree with Evelyn, as nearly all instances in which she takes a step back from her narration about the past to underline a certain teaching she had gathered from these situations. If one doesn’t get on their feet and start working for what they want to achieve - they will never be granted the opportunity to do so in the first place. A paragraph filled with what it means to live in today’s society. 

Grown men were watching me walk down the street, and some of the girls in my building didn't want to hang out with me anymore. It was a lonely business. Motherless, with an abusive father, no friends, and a sexuality in my body that my mind wasn't ready for. (p. 43)

This made me feel nostalgic. Not specifically limited to my own experiences growing up in an over sexualized society, but reminiscing the old times of the locker rooms at school. How very weird it was, when the first girls in our class started developing breasts. How obscene we all thought of it, how very shameful. Back then I questioned my response, because I did grow up in an agonizingly conservative household matter of factly. Was it perhaps a thought planted inside my head by my mother? Or was it a common thought shared by everyone? I looked around. Everybody had kept staring at the poor girl. I wish I could tell her how sorry I was. We, girls, made her, a young woman, feel uncomfortable in what she was turning. I now know that this was simply a perfect example of internalized misogyny towards our own gender. But it doesn’t excuse what had happened, and it won’t erase the memory inside the girl’s head. I was positively surprised having read this paragraph and seeing an opening for a further discussion about this specific topic. 

If you've never been smacked across the face, let me tell you something, it is humiliating. Mostly because your eyes start to tear up, whether you mean to be crying or not. The shock of it and the sheer force of it stimulate your tear ducts./ There is no way to take a smack across the face and look stoic. All you can do is remain still and stare straight ahead, allowing your face to turn red and your eyes to bloom. (p. 77)

I’ve never read anything more accurate than this. I applaud you, Reid, because this makes me feel seen. It is the sheer agony of not being in control that makes a smack across the face so humiliating for the recipient. Not being able to do anything else other than letting emotions fly over your face and concentrating on keeping in any sounds you might utter. If the other passages wouldn’t have gotten me on this train, then this would’ve done the job. 

“If you are heartbroken right now, then I feel for you deeply,” Evelyn says. “That I have the utmost respect for. That's the sort of thing that can split a person in two. But I wasn't heartbroken when Don left me. I simply felt my marriage had failed. And those are very different things.”/ When Evelyn says this, I stop my pen in place. I look up at her. And I don't know why I needed Evelyn to tell me that./ I wonder why that sort of distinction has never crossed my mind before. (p. 141)

I feel for Monique and I was so taken aback by that simple difference. Because yes, feeling heartbroken is one of the few things you can account for actually feeling so deeply about another person that you can’t see a future without them in it. Feeling as if the air to breathe has been taken from you. But a marriage failing because there are instances that cannot be dealt with, and noticing that there might be a possibility of the people involved to be happier when apart… that is truly something that should be digested properly. I’ve never thought about it the way Evelyn described it to Monique. 

Chapter 28.

I had to specifically mention this chapter. This is my favorite inside the whole book. It was so well written - it could’ve been a stand-alone short story at this point. I loved the change of narration, the way the reader was suddenly put into the figure of a man pursuing a beautiful and alluring woman. How she played her cards. How everything worked so well faded into each other. This alone made me give the book 5 stars. 

I felt myself pulling back, trying to take it all in. It shouldn't have felt so scandalous, and yet it absolutely was. Women have sex for intimacy. Men have sex for pleasure. That's what culture tells us./ The idea that I'd be shown to enjoy my body, to desire the male form just as strongly as I was desired, to show a woman putting her own physical pleasure at the forefront… it felt daring. (p. 262)

This was such an obvious realization. So obvious, yet completely overlooked. Again, I applaud Reid for emphasizing this simple, yet crucial difference between sex for a man and sex for a woman. I’ve never realized how this is still carried onto movies and real life dynamics in today’s age. It honestly makes me feel taken aback. 

Evelyn shrugs slightly. “She always made sure the bad was outweighed by so much good. I… well, I didn't do that for her. I made it fifty-fifty. Which is about the cruelest thing you can do to someone you love. Give them just enough good to make them stick through a hell of a lot of bad. Of course, I realized all this when she left me. And I tried to fix it, but it was too late.” (p. 272)

This is important considering relationship dynamics as a whole. So very important. You shouldn’t disregard something so vital to a relationship because you are forcing your martyr stand-point onto the person that you’re supposedly having a relationship with. Having Hugo go completely beyond what is right and wrong by sleeping with a man in order to ‘save’ Celia and their relationship - it is too much. And above all, truly cruel. Again, marvelous way of demonstrating it and making sure it becomes a discussion topic. 

Or maybe Robert merely stumbled into something that worked for him, unsure what he wanted until he had it. Some people are lucky like that. Me, I've always gone after what I wanted with everything in me. Others fall into happiness. Sometimes I wish I was like them. I'm sure sometimes they wish they were like me. (p. 344)

This stands in a paradoxical relationship to the second quote I picked in this section. “Falling into happiness” and “going after what [one] wanted” pose parallels to the waiting of being given what one seeks and others going out of their way to take it. This is however a different context, and has to be considered with it being more abstract with Robert than it was with Evelyn marrying her first husband in order to get somewhere. Anyways, it was interesting to see such a parallel drawn, working the exact opposite way than she had advised Monique. 

Six quotes I wanted to share

“So do yourself a favor and learn how to grab life by the balls, dear. Don't be so tied up trying to do the right thing when the smart thing is so painfully clear.” (p. 30)

People think that intimacy is about sex./ But intimacy is about truth./ When you realize you can tell someone your truth, when you can show yourself to them, when you stand in front of them bare and their response is “You’re safe with me” - that's intimacy. (p. 112)

You wonder what it must be like to be a man, to be so confident that the final say is yours. (p. 180)

It's always been fascinating to me how things can be simultaneously true and false, how people can be good and bad all in one, how someone can love you in a way that is beautifully selfless while serving themselves ruthlessly. (p. 251)

There is a difference between sexuality and sex. I used sex to get what I wanted. Sex is just an act. Sexuality is a sincere expression of desire and pleasure. That I always kept for Celia. (p. 271)

And maybe one day I'll find someone I love the way Evelyn loved Celia. Or maybe I might just find someone I love the way my parents loved each other. Knowing to look for it, knowing there are all different types of great loves out there, is enough for me for now. (p. 380)

[fallenasleepyetagain]

Snow - Blue/Cross Fic

Prompt: Snow | First Kiss

Prompt from: @yearoftheotpevent

Media: UTMV/Undertale Multiverse

Genres: Fluff, everyone lives in Nightmare’s castle, human AU, light romance, friends to lovers (technically enemies to friends to lovers but they aren’t shown to be enemies in this fic)

Characters: Cross, Blue, Dream, Nightmare (mentioned), Killer (mentioned), Error (mentioned)

Pairing(s): Cross/Blue

CW/TW: None!

Word Count: 3743

Other Notes: This is 1/12 fics I’ll be doing this year! All of the pairings I will be writing about will be rarepairs because man I just like rarepairs what can I say? This was written on the laptop, so paragraphs are formatted to not be read on mobile! Apologies for this.

Reblogs >> Likes

Arm workouts had to be his favorite. Just him, the gym bench, and some heavy dumbbells. It was a great way to cool down while also working out one of the most important parts of his body. He wasn’t Cross without being able to wield his massive as fuck sword. Using arm exercises as post-workout workouts was also something he did frequently. It was a good way to work his muscles as well as winding down post-shower. Apart from having a very short and small breakfast and doing his physical training session, he hadn’t done much else today. He had done his normal morning workout which took around three hours to complete. 

It was always a blur when he did it, like he was in this dazed state until Chara decided to wake him up via an ice cold shower or hell fire shower. He always hated it but man did it work. It always snapped him right out of his childhood conditioning and back into the real world. He had done his normal workout this morning, took a hell fire shower, and was now doing some arm workouts to chill out. Earbuds were in his ears, connected to his phone in his gym short pocket. It was playing a podcast about common tropes in anime, where they came from, and how they got popular. Honestly? It was really interesting.

Switching the dumbbell to the other arm, Cross adjusted his entire placement on the gym bench, making sure that he was comfortable. He did small arm circles with the arm that now felt extremely light, stretching it out to make sure the muscles stayed healthy and not strained. His body could take a lot - he was a massive hunk of a man - but he had to take care of his body too, just like everyone else.

Despite it being the middle of January, he was feeling warm and safe. And while Nightmare refused to get a proper heating system in the castle, preferring to heat the massive building via fireplace, working out in the colder months was really nice. The gym was located on the first basement floor of the castle. The castle had a lot of floors, both from the first floor going up, and the first floor going down. It actually wasn’t freezing down there, being more insulated due to the floors above and the ground around it. The temperature was nice and cool, which made it great for working out. It stayed cool all year round too. 

After completing all of the arm workouts, he stood up and walked over to the weight-rack, gently setting down the eighty pound (~36kg) weight where it belonged. He stretched out his torso and arms, his back popping. Suddenly, before Cross could begin to think about what he would do next, Blue suddenly burst into the room, the double doors flying open.

“CROSS CROSS CROSS CROSS CROSS CROSS!” A flurry of shouts echoed throughout the room, with a significantly smaller figure running towards him. Cross turned in time to make sure he didn’t accidentally elbow Blue in the face. Sweat beads dripped from Blue’s forehead as he grabbed onto Cross’s forearm. Blue was vibrating, clearly very excited about something. Although what, Cross wasn’t sure. Blue could get excited about anything if he tried to.

“BWUH-” Cross sputtered as Blue grabbed onto his arm with a force much stronger than he was expecting. “H-Hi??? What’s up?”

“CROSS!” Blue squealed, rocking back and forth on his feet. “You need to come upstairs and into the main hall right now, it's super important! I want to show you something awesome!” He chirped before springing from Cross’s arm, practically teleporting from Cross back to the doors, “And put on some pants! You’ll need it!”

And with that, he was gone. Cross was still reeling from Blue’s excitement, a small, giddy grin appearing on his face. He knew what to do next, and had to move quickly; Blue was waiting for him. His mind wandered, wondering what Blue wanted from him. Knowing the little bastard, it could be just about anything. But Cross had a good feeling about it. Seeing the excitement and glee in Blue’s big, beautiful, dark-blue eyes was enough to tell Cross that whatever it was, it was going to be worth it. Changing into something that wasn’t his workout clothes was easy. His gym shorts became a black and white pair of pants and his muscle shirt became a tight yet soft black sweater. He, of course, finished off the monochromatic outfit by putting on the fluffy coat he always wore. It was a staple of his appearance, he couldn’t just leave it out! He exited his room, rubbing his eyes as he yawned. Sleep and him never really got along, and he hadn’t had a night in the past month that wasn’t restless or full of nightmares.

It was quiet in the castle, something it often wasn’t. The winter months had to have been the reason. The cold just made people chill, literally and figuratively. Heating wasn’t a thing in the castle either, and despite Dream’s attempt to fight Nightmare about this, he always lost. Nightmare, being the guardian of negativity and naturally colder than the average person, didn’t see the need in getting heating. So he left everyone else to suffer and figure out how to stay warm. This was mostly done through cuddle piles by fireplaces, something Cross didn’t mind participating in. It got down below freezing most nights! But his body was warm, and so was his clothing choices, he usually got along fine. The large doors to the main hall were right in front of him, and Cross had to wonder when and how he got there. He must’ve been on autopilot. A sigh left his lips before he had the chance to process it. He needed to wake up fully soon because this was getting ridiculous. Chara did a decent job of making sure he got in control of his own body, but it still took effort of his own to make himself ready for the day.

Cross shoved the doors to the main hall open with his shoulder, the large spruce door creaking as he did so. Cold air blasted at his face, blood rising into his cheeks and nose, being very apparent due to his albino skin. He blinked back a few tears as he entered the room. Blue was waiting for him, bouncing up and down on his feet. Which were in blue snow boots. Huh. Cross didn’t realize that Blue owned any other pair of shoes from the normal heeled boots he wore. The smaller man was very lightly dressed compared to Cross, although he usually was, but today it was odd. Since they were both feeling the strong gust of wind coming from the open doors, Blue should’ve been shivering. It was well below freezing outside and the wind was absolutely making it worse. He had snow boots, his scarf, and what appeared to be jeans and a simple black undershirt with blue gloves. Before Cross could even mention the mere fact that Blue was very underdressed for this type of weather and was possibly going to get himself sick, Blue had grabbed his hand and began pulling him towards the door.

“Oh my god Cross I’m so excited you’re here, look!” Cross’s eyes went from Blue towards the open doors. And what he saw was something straight out of a movie. The ground outside was covered in snow, every plant being coated with a thick layer of powdery snow. It was still falling from the clouds above, the wind sending the snowflakes whirling around. The last time he had seen snow like this must’ve been in his old universe. Snowdin often had snows like this, but he had yet to see a place match it. It had snowed outside the castle before, but it had been a long time since he last saw a place snow like this.

No wonder Blue wanted to show him this. It was incredible! “Isn’t it perfect, Cross?! It’s been so long since I’ve last seen it snow like this!”

“Haha yeah…it’s crazy.”

“Come on!”

“Come huh?”

Snow crunched under Blue’s feet as he ran from the doors and across the entryway. Right before he hit the stairs that led up to the castle, he leapt. Like an excited husky he jumped up and landed below in the snow, which had to have at least been two feet to catch him properly. Cross was stunned. He exited the castle, pulling to doors closed with relative ease despite the wind working against him. When he turned back around, Blue was beckoning him into the snow. He hesitated slightly, unsure of what to do. But Blue’s smile wavered any anxiety he had, his shoulders untensing. He walked down the steps, being careful to not slip and fall. Blue was resting against the snow, as if it was a mattress and not freezing cold. The snow crumbled as he patted the spot next to him. It was…oddly seductive.

Cross took a second to turn around and crouch into the snow. He allowed himself to lay down next to Blue and a wheeze exited his body as he sunk into the ground, the two feet of snow not being enough to keep him up. He was so goddamn muscley! No snow could trickle down his back luckily, due to his hood being pulled up over his head. Although severely limiting his vision. Blue shifted on his right and within a moment, the fluff of his hood was pulled back.

“Hehe, hi Cross.” Blue laughed, “You’re hidden away.”

“I guess. Hah.” Cross replied, his tone nervous. He wasn’t sure why he was nervous, Blue never did anything to make him anxious! Blue was always so sweet and awesome to him. And yet his heart was racing and his palms were sweaty. “Why did you want to show me the snow?”

Even though Blue’s vitiligo made his cheeks two very different shades, one pale and the other brown, Cross was still able to tell that he flushed slightly at the question. Blue sat up, and his face was buried slightly in his bright blue scarf. He shook his head, much like a dog would, to get the snow out of his hair. “For a few reasons, actually.” He made a smiley face in the snow, his face the opposite, “Some are more selfish than others, I’m afraid.”

“Hey hey,” Cross sat up and put a hand on Blue’s shoulder, “It’s ok. I want to know. ‘Sides, I don’t think you could be selfish, even if you tried.”

Blue chuckled softly before standing up and promptly sinking back into the snow. The snow was almost to his waist, and he shivered as snow entered into his snow boots. The wool socks that he had on should be enough to keep his feet from freezing over. Error had made them for him! What a sweet guy Error is! He grabbed Cross’s hand and helped him up.

“Well, the first reason is that I wanted to show you the snow! It’s been so long since I’ve seen a snow storm like this! And as a previous resident of Snowdin yourself, I figured that you would like to see it as well.”

“Aw.”

“Reason number two! And Cross before I say this I need you to know that this is out of love.” 

Cross squinted at him. “Ok?”

“I wanted to bring you out here so we could play in the snow! Because you, my monochromatic friend, have the biggest stick up your ass I have ever seen.”

“Hey!”

“I mean that nicely! You are just on edge and worrying about everyone and everything all of the time! You work so hard, and I am afraid that you’ve forgotten how to have fun and relax. So I pulled you out here so we can frolic in the snow!”

“That’s…really sweet actually. And not selfish at all! Are you ok? Why would you think that either of those reasons are selfish?”

“I have three reasons, actually.” Blue twirled a small piece of his brown hair.

“Yeah? What’s the third?”

Despite the massive height difference between them, Blue still, somehow, managed to put a gloved hand on Cross’s cheek. Cross’s cheeks flushed again, becoming a deeper shade of red than his normal cold look.

“I wanted to spend time with you.”

“Really?”

“Yes! I know you internalize pretty much anything and you think that you’re terrible and horrible and that everyone hates you and that no one would ever want to spend time with you, but that isn’t true! I really like you Cross, and I want to spend time with you!” Cross bent down slightly, to allow Blue to grab his face with both hands. His eyes shut as Blue kissed his freezing nose. He allowed himself to take Blue’s compliment to heart, and a genuine, if a little dorky, smile tugged on his lips. And he felt a little bit at peace, a feeling he didn’t feel too often. Then his mind started whirling, per usual. What…just happened? Was this platonic or did Blue have some sort of subtext behind his words? Although Blue usually didn't, who knows? Was he supposed to react in a certain way, were they going to kiss???

Before his brain short-circuited, Blue snapped him back to reality. “Now come on! Let’s do something! We could have a snowball fight, or maybe eat icicles, ooh or build a snow fort! There are so many things we can- AUAH?!”

Blue was cut off as Cross picked him up like a cat, his hands almost fully wrapped around his chest. He tried not to think about the fact that Cross’s hand was practically the size of his chest. It flustered him! He always forgot how large and muscular Cross was until something like this happened.

“Aaguh- Cross? Why don’t you, um, put me down?”

“I will. But first we have to get you some proper snow clothing. You’re going to freeze and get sick if you spend any more time out here wearing such thin clothing. We are going inside so you can warm up and put on some more weather appropriate clothing.”

“What! No way! Cross I will be fine. I’ve been out longer in worse conditions!”

“That’s not comforting! Come on, we are getting you a jacket at least.”

“OI!”

Cross and Blue both paused. That was a new voice. It was awfully quiet in the wind, despite it sounding like a shout. But where did it come from? Cross shifted on his foot, squinting so he could see in the windy snow.

“UP HERE DOUCHEBAG!” Ooh, Cross recognized that voice and his teeth began to grind together as he made the connection. He turned on his heel and looked up onto the balcony above. And just as he guessed, Dream was standing there. Arms crossed, and the black fluff on his jacket shook in the wind, gathering snow. His golden eyes were pulled into a sharp glare, which was aimed at Cross.

“HE’S GOING TO GET SICK! BRING HIM INSIDE YOU INSECURE GOLLUMPUS!”

The two made eye contact, and it took all that Cross had in him to not fling his sword straight at Dream’s head. With a moment of silent contemplation, Cross made up his mind. He flung Blue into the snow with a gentle toss. He flipped Dream off as well as Blue shrieked and laughed as he landed gracefully into the snow.

“HEY!” “WE’RE GOING TO HAVE FUN THE SNOW, YOU AND YOUR STUPID ASS CAN SUCK IT UP!”

“Cross!” Blue chided at him before taking a bite out of a snowball he had made.

With a huff, Cross disengaged, even though Dream hurled a few more insults at him before giving up and going back inside. The smallest twinge of regret shot through Cross. He didn’t like Dream all that much, sure, but the guy was just looking out for Blue, much like how he had done a moment earlier. But Blue probably wouldn't have listened to Dream anyway. Though he would’ve been nicer about it.

“Sorry…?”

“No you’re not.”

With a heavy sigh, Cross responded. “No I’m not.”

Once again Cross was yanked down into the snow. This time he landed on his knees which made it easier to talk to Blue, who was still laying down in the snow. How he wasn’t freezing was a mystery. He had one arm over his chest, the other under his head. Blue laughed slightly at Cross’s response, smiling at him. Blue had a nice smile. And Cross was sure he wasn’t the only one to think that! Thinking that was a normal thing to think about friends! Right? Right! Exactly!

“Hehe, are you thinking about me Cross?”

“Wha-What? Why would you think that?!”

“Your face went all red when you were looking at me. Unless you were thinking about someone else?” Blue asked, his tone rather flat yet still engaged. He cocked his head to the side, waiting for Cross to respond.

“I was um-” He swallowed hard, “I was just thinking about how nice your smile is.”

“Aww!” Blue sat up and hid away in his scarf for a moment, cheeks a little flushed. Although not as much as Cross’s were, “Thanks.”

“Y-Yeah um! Sure. Of course.”

Blue cupped Cross’s face, the feeling of his gloves were nice against cold skin. He rubbed Cross’s cheek for a moment. His thumb ran over the scars that made an x-like shape on his face. Despite his gloves, he could still feel the difference between the coarse skin of the scars versus the non-scarred skin. He adored Cross’s scars, which was ironic considering he didn’t like his own. They were so badass and showed how strong he was! Cross was very strong, and yet so very gentle. Only when someone realizes their maximum strength can they be as careful as Cross is. Even a few moments ago, when Cross had scooped him up. He wasn’t aggressive about it, and neither was his grasp tight. His hands drifted down to Cross’s jaw, and he felt the other’s breath hitch.

“Can I kiss you?” Blue whispered, his voice barely heard over the wind.

“I-If you want to!” Cross stuttered, his hands finding themselves a nice spot on Blue’s hips. He had never been kissed before, was there something he was supposed to do or…?

There was no room for thoughts as Blue gently pressed their lips together for a moment. It was a simple peck on the lips, it could barely be considered a kiss. It lasted for a second, maybe too. But to Cross it felt like an eternity.

“Now come on! We have so many things that we can do in the snow, so let’s get going!: Blue chirped, jumping to his feet, shivering a little as he did so. He was faced away from Cross and when he heard no movement he turned around on his heel. “Cross?”

Cross was still kneeling in the snow, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. A shaky hand was lifted to his lips, the phantom feeling of the kiss still there. He looked so out of it, as if he didn’t even notice that Blue was talking to him. Blue smiled softly and walked a couple paces back over to Cross.

“Cross?” Blue asked, poking his nose. He jolted awake, blinking a few times. “Hehe, you dork. You okay?”

Cross nodded.

“Awesome! Let’s get going!”

“Ah! Wait!” Cross was yanked up by Blue with surprising strength. His knees felt like collapsing under him, but he managed to get control of himself relatively quickly. “Can we,” he paused to swallow, “Can we do that again?”

“What, kiss?”

“Mhm.”

With a shrug Blue responded, “Sure. But first we have snow activities to do! What do you want to do first, Cross?”

“We could…make a snow fort? Igloo? Something like that?”

“Yesss!” Blue’s eyes lit up as he grabbed Cross’s hand, and pulled him into the forest that surrounded Nightmare’s castle. Cross put on what had to be his tenth wobbly smile of the day. He just felt content around Blue. He didn’t feel like that around most people. His fingers wrapped around Blue’s, the feeling warm against the harsh cold of the winter. Was Blue still not cold? If he looked like he was shivering, Cross would be sure to take his jacket off and give it to him. It would absolutely smother the guy, but he’d be warm! Blue turned back to him, and smiled once again. There was a slight crease to his smile, the ends of his eyes tugging upward. Was Cross about to gush about his smile again? Probably.

The day had started with feelings of melancholy and the existential dread of figuring out what to do with himself. It was easier when someone just told him what he should do, whether it be Nightmare sending him on a mission, or Killer dragging him to do something. And even though Blue had dragged him out into the snow, he still asked what he wanted to do first. Blue was good at that. Listening and taking suggestions. Actually, Blue was just good! Good to be around, good to hang out with…good to kiss. He wasn’t perfect, Cross knew that, no one could be. But Blue came pretty damn close. Cross almost felt honored that Blue wanted to hang out with him. There were so many people in the world and in the castle, and he was the one who was actively sought out. It made him feel warm. Happy, even.

Blue let go of his hand to run ahead, scouting out a clearing. Cross followed him, eyes watching for any icicles or large patches of snow that could fall on Blue and hurt him. He hadn’t even noticed the fact that Blue had stopped moving until he almost bumped into him.

“Hey! Cross!” Cross looked down at Blue, who had snapped his fingers as he spoke. “You’ve gone all tense again. Relax for me man.”

“But that’s…hard.”

“Relaxing is hard? Jesus Christ, who hurt you?” Cross went to reply, but Blue held his hand up, “Rhetorical question. Sorry. Can you take a breath? Have a little fun with me Cross.”

How could Cross say no?