#if its gonna be like this though I might as fucking well just work half as much and be happier and owe the government less fucking money

[every-captain]

Hi!

Tax season has flattened me into a pancake, I owe the government 1500 dollars for some reason. Something that has never happened to me before. I have just standard employment through a fucking corporation, their withholding should be enough... Student loan repayments are also on the horizon for me and while I had those well in hand, I had expected a nice little kickback from my tax return to help me have a good little time on my birthday and buy some things I really wanted...

Instead now all my savings are gone and I have to focus on getting those back in line so that I can go to the doctor next month...I'm also about to take a week off of work for some planned leave, which is even less money that I am going to have because I'll only be making about half as much as usual for that week...

What this comes down to is that I'm looking for work so I can get myself out of this absolutely massive hole I've suddenly found myself in!

Here is a post with my commission info in it and I'd really love it if that could get some traction, and if anyone wants art for any reason they think about coming to me!

If yall happen to take any pity on me (Although I know its kind of audacious of me to ask for donations or help right now, considering the causes that money could be going to) and dont want art, my ko-fi is [HERE]

I'm honestly in shock.

[luveline]

𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

When Eddie asks you on a date, you don’t believe it. He probably meant as friends, right? Spoiler alert — Eddie wants to be more than friends, and he’s willing to prove it. [4k]

fluff, slight hurt/comfort, fem!reader, plus-sized!reader, reader feels undesirable, kissing, obligatory ‘don’t be cruel’ scene, eddie calls you pretty like ten times, requested here

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Eddie has one of those smiles that screams trouble. Every time he looks at you with that smile he might as well have "I'm gonna break your heart," written across his forehead in tandem. 

You sneak a glance at him across the atrium. Eddie’s paused bussing tables to talk to a patron, his customer service voice in play with a matching smile. It isn't the one you mean, but it's bad enough to make you flush red-hot. You cross your arms over the bar, regret it for its stickiness, and let your head rest against the crook of your elbow. 

You've been working together for a long time now, almost six months, and he's your favourite coworker hands down. He cleans up after himself, he brings snacks that you never accept (lest you look like the greedy chubby girl you worry everyone expects you to be), and he talks to you like a real person.

It's horrifying and it's not fair, but being fat means that sometimes guys don’t want to look at you. They don't want to be in the same room with you, and you can tell; they avert their eyes, or simply don't talk to you directly.

You've never had that feeling with Eddie. He meets your eyes, unflinching, and he sends you one of those pretty smiles and you think Fuck, because he should've been a movie star, he has the cheekbones for it, or a rockstar like that band he's always raving about. He'd have a slim LA girl on both arms, no doubt about it. 

He likely wouldn't waste his time with you. 

Not someone pretty as he is. Sometimes he'll lean over and expose the flat stretch of his stomach, his v-lines and the dark trail of hair peeking above his jeans, and you feel acutely miserable 'cause you know you'll never get to touch him. Workplace crushes suck. 

"Hey, are you okay?" a voice asks, a hand dropping against your shoulder. 

You pull yourself up quickly. Speak of the devil, Eddie stands beside you with his hair tied away from his face. He looks more entertained than concerned, his smile unfortunately genuine. 

"I'm fine," you say, stepping back. His hand falls away from your shoulder. "Sorry, just tired." 

Eddie leans into your space, squinting. You freeze up, but he's only checking the time on the clock behind you. "Gotta tough it out. Still an hour and a half 'til closing." 

Which means there's more than two hours of your shift left. Your face must show how unexciting that is —Eddie laughs, warm and quiet, and gives your hand a squeeze. 

"You'll live," he promises. "Are you busy tonight? Maybe we could go get pizza or something." 

"What, nobody else is available?" you ask. 

His head juts back a touch, put upon shock. "And why can't I ask you? I like you and I like pizza, that's a good combination. And even if you don't like me that much, you like pizza, right?" 

You know —you know, you do— that Eddie doesn't mean it as a slight. This isn't some thinly veiled insult on how you look. Why wouldn't you like pizza? Most people do, but his comment twists itself into an evil inky ball in your chest anyways, thick and hot as tar. 

You shake it off. 

"Who says I don't like you?" you ask, steering the conversation away from food altogether. 

His smile gets somehow better, which is to say worse. You're being punished for something, a childhood wrongdoing or a future crime, perhaps. Nothing else could warrant the mental torture that is being so close to him while he looks the way he does. 

"Good. Good, then we should get pizza. It's a date," he says, nodding. 

Morgan the shift manager calls for him to stop distracting you, though the Hideout is abandoned tonight, and there's nothing to distract you from. Eddie stands at full height, with a soldier's salute. "Yes, sir. No more lollygagging." He turns to you when you laugh, and you share a secret smile. 

He and Morgan disappear into the back of house. If you strain your ears, you can hear Eddie complaining about having to keep his hair in a bun, as it's totally against what he stands for, dude, it's stifling his self expression. 

"Count yourself lucky I don't make you wear a hair net, kid," Morgan says.

You turn back to your sticky bar, numb. It's a date? Did he mean, like, an actual date? A romantic date? 

Not a chance in hell. It's a colloquialism. Nothing more. 

Despite yourself, you stare into the silver reflection of a beer tap and try to liven up. You fix your hair, check your teeth, dig a lip balm out of your apron pocket and scratch the corners of your mouth just in case. The entire time you're heckling yourself about delusions. Eddie Munson doesn't like you. He's had a girl come around once or twice, and she'd been everything you're not: slender, confident. You'd wanted to dislike her, but she hadn't done anything wrong. There's no crime in being desirable. 

For the remainder of the night, you man the bar and serve the occasional patron. It's a Sunday night, so most stick to light beer or soft drinks. The live entertainment says goodnight and the Hideout empties like an opened floodgate. You clean the bar, Eddie buses the tables, and the kitchen staff turn on the radio and get to work cleaning. Soon, you can smell cigarette smoke and reheated mozzarella sticks. 

You wander into the kitchen to help. 

"Hi beautiful," Leon says, one of the cooks, "you want something to eat?" 

"No she does not!" Eddie says, helping the dishwasher Marcie with her last round of plates. Suds drip down to his rolled sleeves as he waves his hands around. "We're going to get pizza." 

"Yes!" Marcie says, delighted. 

"Where are we going?" Paul asks, another cook. 

"We," Eddie says, pointing at you and then himself, "are going to Marletto's. Yeah?" 

You startle when you realise he's asking you. "Oh, sure. Anywhere you want." 

His head bobs up and down, pleased. He goes back to his dishes. "Anywhere I want," he murmurs to Marcie, though he's saying it for everybody to hear, "hear that, Marc? I'm spoiled." 

You wipe down a few counters, label some leftover iceberg lettuce and put it back in the fridge. It's easy work, made better by the camaraderie of your coworkers, but you can't settle down. Your heart races at what's to come. "It's a date," is starting to feel less colloquial now Eddie's dissuading the other from joining you. That's how that works, right? He wants to be alone with you.

It might not mean anything. Maybe Eddie needs something from you he doesn't want the others to know about, like money. Maybe he wants girl advice, finally chasing that pretty girl who drops by sometimes. Or boy advice —there's a guy who comes around too, tall and blond and handsome. 

There's a logical solution. Any other girl would hear the word date and take it at face value, but you aren't them. You're you. You can't remember the last time somebody looked at you with desire in their eyes, if they ever have. High school was a shit show and work isn't exactly a hub for romance. Eddie joining the team here is the most excitement you've ever had in your life, for all his gentle squeezes and teasing elbows, his inside jokes and his tendency to burst into an air guitar solo at any given moment. He's a cheeseball, and you like him. It sucks. 

"Hi, are you ready?" he asks, coming out of nowhere. You're kneeling down near the lockers tying your shoelaces. 

It is a horrible position for him to see you in. You can't imagine what you look like, but you know it won't be pretty. You spring up with your shoelace untied still and smile weakly. "Yeah, I'm ready." 

"You need help with that?" he asks, eyes on your shoe. 

You burn with embarrassment. "I– no, I–" 

Eddie kneels down on the floor and reaches for your shoe. He ties it quickly in a double-knotted bunny-loop and pats the side of your ankle when he's done. When he looks up at you, you're in the middle of hoping a natural disaster will occur and put you out of your misery. 

He smiles at you from his position. Does he ever stop? 

"Cool," he says, standing up. He grabs his coat from his locker and doesn't bother closing it. "Let's go! I'm starving, man, Leon needs to mess up more often so I can steal the rejects." 

You follow him in a daze. Through the lockers and out of the kitchen, waving goodbye to the lingering closers and a grimacing Morgan. You aren't looking forward to seeing him again tomorrow. You're more than sure he'll have something to say about workplace fraternising and general dawdling. 

"You okay for us to take the van?" he asks. 

Eddie's given you rides home before, and what felt awkward before has lended itself to a familiarity. You nod your agreement and cross the small parking lot out back, your breath rising in the cold night air. 

Eddie pulls open the passenger door of his van with a strong-armed tug. 

"Been meaning to get the latch looked at. I'd rather it have trouble opening than trouble closing, though, so that's a plus." 

He waits for you to climb the short step and sit before he closes the door. 

“All limbs inside the ride?" he asks. 

You laugh. It comes out weird. You kind of sound like you're being held at gunpoint. 

Eddie gets in the van and makes small talk as he starts the engine and pulls her out of the lot. Your mind isn't there, exactly, or rather it's too close. You want to think about your answers but instead you're worrying about how you look while you say them. You're worried about the seat belt around your stomach, and the way you look from the side. Being around Eddie makes you more self-conscious than usual. 

Marletto's isn't the best pizza place in Hawkins but it's open until three AM. You and Eddie take the first empty booth you come across, and the agony of ordering in front of someone else begins. 

"Meat feast for me, obviously," he says, pulling off his jacket. 

The cracked vinyl seat beneath him crunches with his movement. You dedicate yourself to staying still. 

"I'll get a margarita," you say, glancing between him and the menu for his reaction.  

"Didn't take you for such a bore," he teases. "Drinks? Sides?" 

"Just water will be fine." 

"Are you sure? I'm paying. If you wanna take advantage of me, now's the time."

You shake your head, pushing your cold hands under your thighs. 

Eddie frowns. "If you're sure…" 

He gets up to track down the register. You sit there, wondering why you agreed to this, what possessed you, why you could ever think this was a good idea. You don't wanna eat in front of him, you don't know what to say, he's looking at you like everything's normal but this is so not normal, this is the opposite side of the spectrum. 

Eddie returns with your water and a coke, all smiles despite your clear nerves. 

He puts the drinks down and clambers into the seat with a leg folded underneath himself, his elbows halfway across the table. He looks you straight in the face. 

"That guy just looked at me like I was crazy. I'm hungry, sue me. Three orders of mozzarella sticks is a normal human thing to get, right?" 

"Three?" you ask. 

His hand reaches toward you. If your hand were there, he'd likely squeeze it roughly as he sometimes does, like a playful scolding. "I'm hungry," he repeats. "I didn't get any lunch on my lunch break. What's the point in that? Just sat down in the locker room thinking about it. It was actually worse than working." 

"You should've had Leon make you a burger. He's always offering." 

"Always offering you, maybe. The rest of us gotta fend for ourselves." 

"That's not true. He asks Marcie, too." 

"Yeah, well, Leon's a sucker for pretty girls." 

You look down at the table. 

"I got enough fries for both of us, I know you didn't want any sides but everyone wants fries. I won't be sharing the mozzarella sticks, so if you want some you better speak now." He raps the table with his knuckles. When you look up, his face softens. "Well, alright. Maybe I'll share them with you. I'm a sucker, too." 

"What's that mean?" 

"What?" 

"You know what," you say. 

Eddie crosses his arms across the table. His hands and arms are pale, the ink of his black tattoos stark. You could draw them without prompting, that's how often you've fallen into his trap. When he crosses his arms like this, his biceps bulge up a little bit, emphasising the pretty curves and ridges of his arms and the hints of greeny-blue veins hiding under his skin. He tilts his head toward his shoulder, his limp curls dragging against the table. 

"It means…" he says, holding your eyes, a gentle smile playing on his lips, "that you're pretty. You're so pretty, I'd do anything you asked me to." 

You flinch. You pull your numb hands from under your thighs and cover your stomach with your forearms, glaring at the table between you thoughtlessly. 

"That's cruel." 

"What?" 

"That's cruel, Eddie. You're being mean," you mutter.

"I–" Eddie stammers. "What? I'm just trying to tell you how I think about you– how I feel. I'm sorry if you don't wanna hear it, I'm not trying to be mean." 

Hurt creeps into the lines of your face, your eyebrows pulled down and the starts pulled up, your lips pursed. Heat bursts in your throat as a molten lump takes shape there. You don't trust yourself to speak, but you have to. 

"I thought you were my friend," you say quietly. 

"I want to be more than that." 

"You're making fun of me." 

"No." 

Eddie reaches across the table again. There's nothing for him to grab so he spreads his fingers and presses his palm flat. He ducks his head to meet your gaze. His eyes are ridiculously big, the black of his pupils blown and leaching into his dark irises until they're almost indistinguishable in the fuzzy lighting of the restaurant. 

"Come on," he says quietly, "when have I ever done that to you? I mess around, but I wouldn't say shit like that unless I meant it." His fingers lift off of the table. "I mean it. I think you're beautiful." His voice takes on a raw quality. 

You bite the tip of your tongue, fully frowning now. "I don't believe you," you say. 

"Why not?" he asks, frowning back. 

"Because I'm– I'm– I'm fat." You hate yourself for saying it out loud. 

People hate that word. Usually, if you admit to it, there's a rushed response. No, you're not. Pretty friends talk you down, loved ones wrap an arm around your shoulder and harp about puppy fat or big bones. 

Eddie doesn't do either. He sits back in his seat and smiles hesitantly. 

"Why's that a bad thing?" he asks. He shakes his head at himself. "I mean– I'm sorry, I should've said you aren't, you aren't–" 

"No, I am," you say. 

"You're so pretty," he says again, in a rush. "I don't care what size you are, I really don't. I just think you're beautiful and I wanted to ask you on a real date but I saw you and I couldn't wait anymore." He wraps his hand around the neck of his coke bottles and pulls it towards his chest. "Shit, I've made a huge fucking mess of it." 

You lean forward. Your body doesn't know what to do, the whiplash of hurt smothered by his enthusiastic, sincere compliments.

Why's that a bad thing? means more than anything else he said to you. 

"You really think I'm pretty?" you ask timidly. 

"Drop dead," he says. Hope flickers behind his eyes. "Morgan pulled me aside on my second week, you know that? Said if I didn't stop staring at you he'd put me in the back for the week." 

"He did put you in the back," you say, confused. 

"Exactly." 

Oh. You raise your head properly. Eddie's watching you, just you, obviously waiting for you to speak. The hope on his face is clear as day now, his lips parted, the tiniest peek of his tongue on display. 

"You promise you aren't messing with me?" you ask finally. 

"I promise." He holds his hand out, palm up. "I swear." 

Your heart a hummingbird, you take your hand from your waist and put it carefully in his. His fingers curl around yours like a prince, the tip of his thumb rubbing over your knuckles slowly, half an inch at a time. You exhale out of your nose as goosebumps race up your arm. 

He looks like he has more to say, but the pizza and all his sides arrive. You spring apart like teenagers, blood rushing in your ears. The server unloads his tray.

"Alright guys," he says, looking down at you both with a knowing smile. "Anything else I can get you while I'm here?" 

Eddie sneaks a look at you that holds way too much meaning. "No, I think we're alright." 

There's a tiny, awkward silence. You busy yourself with unfolding a napkin over your lap, not sure what to say to bridge the gap. 

Eddie takes the plunge. 

He slides a basket of mozzarella sticks at you. "Pretty girl privileges," he says.

You feel insecure eating in front of him, but the sheer ferocity of his compliments discourages any shame. He thinks you're pretty. He held your hand like it was made of glass and he got put in Hideout jail for staring. 

"I think you're handsome, too," you say. 

Eddie almost chokes on a handful of fries. "Shit," he says, swallowing roughly, hand thumping at his chest. "Thank god for that. I mean, of course you do. My devilish good looks are hard to resist." 

He's not wrong. 

—

Getting put on kitchen duty isn't half as bad as Morgan seems to think it is. Eddie kind of likes it, the noise, the chaos, the heat. Plus, he can steal fries hot and fresh out of the basket. He's only burned himself once. 

"What're you in for?" Leon asks him.

"Staring." 

"You're a freak, Munson, you know that?" 

Eddie shrugs. "If your girlfriend looked like mine, you'd stare too." 

"Uh-huh." Leon grabs up a spatula to flip a burger, pink meat down and brown side up. Fat sizzles dangerously. Neither man flinches. "She ain't going nowhere." 

"You don't know that. Some rockstar might blaze through here and snap her up. Who would I be to stop her? She should be a trophy wife, she's a stunner." 

"Christ," Marcie says from across the room. 

"How the fuck can you hear us?" Eddie asks. Over the sound of the overhead spray and the sizzle of the burners, Marcie must have superpowers or something. 

"Uh, 'cause you're fucking yelling," she says. 

Eddie looks to Leon for some defence, but Leon agrees. "You are super loud." 

"You would be too–"

"If I had a girlfriend as pretty as yours," Leon says, audibly grouchy. "I know." 

"Don't be jealous that I got there first." 

"How is this fair? You get in trouble and I'm the one punished." 

Eddie blows a big breath out of the corner of his mouth, one of his shorter curls dancing away from his warm face. Ridiculous. They're all awful, and jealous, and nobody wants him to be happy. "Losers," he mumbles. 

He's kidding, mostly. He knows that everyone is actually very happy for the both of you. How could they not be? Eddie's happier than ever and you've turned to mush. It's his favourite thing in the world. 

He thought you were pretty before. These days, you're gold dust incarnate. You see him and smile like you've been waiting for him, no more nervousness (which, he found out, was down to a raging crush on him) (he walked on air for days), no more shying away from his touch. Eddie puts a hand on your shoulder and you don't tense; you melt. Butter in the sun. 

It's glorious. 

And sure, Eddie ends up in the brig a lot. He 'hovers' apparently. So what? He'll say it again, if any of these guys were in his shoes, they'd fall victim to the same compulsion. 

He waits for an opportunity to arise, four dinner tickets and a dishwasher disaster, and sneaks away as silently as he can manage, creeping out of the kitchen and to the bar. You're busy pouring a beer and don't notice him until the customer's left and he's wrapping an arm around your waist. 

"Eddie," you scold lightly, leaning forward to accommodate his weight against your back, "come on. You might actually lose your job." 

"They can't fire me. I'm the best bus boy ever." 

You turn your face to look at him. Eddie wants to put you on TV, you look that sweet. 

"No, you're awful, you," —Eddie interrupts you, leaning down for a quick chaste kiss— "distract me, and you," —he steals a second— "don't actually bus tables when you should," you finish, disjointed. 

He brings his hand to your soft cheek, stroking a badly behaved baby hair back into place. You go lax like he's some kind of quick fix drug, and your eyes contain a tenderness that makes his chest ache. He covers his heart with his hand. 

"You're awful," you murmur. 

He takes your face into both hands slowly. One cups your cheek, and the other slides behind your ear. He pulls your face forward and down toward his chin, his lips by your ear. You smell amazing. His eyes close on instinct.

"A little. It's not my fault. You're just–" 

"So pretty?" you ask. "Yeah, you've told me." 

"I have, have I? Have to let me tell you again." He kisses the skin before your ear, more a press of his lips than anything. "You're beautiful," he mouths. 

You shiver, but ultimately end up planting your hands against his chest and ushering him away from you. 

"Stop it. I mean it! We're in public, at work, and you're gonna mess me up." 

"I want to mess you up," he says easily. 

"I know you do." 

Eddie sighs, agonised, but heeds your warning. "Alright," he says, squeezing your shoulder in goodbye. You smile and squeeze his elbow in return. It's your new thing, silent conversation in fond touches. 

He's a couple of feet away when the urge to turn back is too much. He jogs back to your side, gets his hand behind your neck, and kisses you with enough pressure that your lips part underneath his in shock. He adores the side of your neck with his thumb one sweeping stroke at a time, his nose digging sliding against yours as he inches in further, and further. The dizzy pleasure of your lips can't be understated. Eddie fights back a kiss-ruining smile with all he's worth. 

"Sorry," he says, pulling back. Your lips shine and you blink, dazed. "Sorry," he says again, leaning in to kiss them dry. 

You laugh quietly, a breath against his cheek, and he's a goner, dropping pecks all over your pretty face until you're giggling and sinking into his arms. 

"I really am sorry." He punctuates with a kiss under your jaw. 

"No," you say breathlessly. Your hand twines loosely in his hair. "You're not." 

No, he isn't. He's never felt less sorry for anything in his life. 

𓆩❤︎𓆪

thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed! If you did, please consider reblogging, it helps more than you know!! <3 

[britcision]

FRIENDS IT IS HERE. As promised even! We are technically just under 20k for this chapter, but still not small enough that cutting it in half has stopped it from brutally murdering the app, so…. We’ll see how this posts! 😅

I did myself a whole honkin’ reread on the whole thing too, refreshed my lil reminders of what I named things and all the lil threads I was playing with… and hot damn it’s a beast huh?

The good news is, although we are getting into plot, we are getting out of the heavy stuff, at least for the next little bit! Back to our silly happy fun times with the boys 🥰

And, y’know, dealing with Jason’s death and first transformation and all. Totally all fine! Nothing to worry about! 😇

Today’s chapter is a lil Bruce-heavy in this front half because the main thing stopping me was that I got most of the way through before I realized I needed to rewrite Jason’s entire first scene, but I’m a lot happier with it now 😁

First Chapter and AO3:

Previous Chapter:

——————————

The Finished Core part 1

When it finally happened, Jason’s core coming in was pretty anticlimactic. For all they’d worried it might trigger a transformation, rile up the pit, or even have a physical shockwave… the event itself was almost disappointing. Buried busily in some paperwork for the library, Jason himself hadn’t actually noticed.

He’d already started feeling what he thought might be his core over the past few days; like a vibrating ball of energy, usually in the middle of his chest (although it wandered in all directions). Which would make the knot of tension that sometimes sat in his gut and sometimes went as far up as his throat… probably Pitty.

Not fun having a distinct sensation that went along with everything else the Pit was. Did nothing at all to ease his worries about what the hell would happen when they were both actually completed.

But when the day finally came… yeah, nothing. The soft, warm glow in his chest when he thought about the project had grown steadily stronger over the week and a bit he’d known Danny at that point, so he hadn’t really paid enough attention to notice a change.

They’d still been seeing each other every day, although now that the new school semester had started up it had slowed down to a couple hours in the evening. Jason had dived headlong into his restoration project both on Frostbite’s advice, and to keep himself from counting the hours. Which, apparently, worked?

The biggest disruption was actually Danny blasting in through the wall not a minute later, invisible until he dived through one of Jason’s freshly legal goons and almost knocked the table over. Luckily there were no actual Red Hood links lying around - Catherine’s name was staying clean, which was for the best since Jason still hadn’t thought of a way to bring it up.

Even now, back from another appointment with Frostbite to confirm all was well, Jason didn’t actually feel any different? It was official though; both cores were complete, and now all they had to do was wait until the pit matured enough to actually leave Jason’s body and do its own thing.

Now that he didn’t have any choice but to confront it, he couldn’t have said what he’d expected anyway, but… well, surely there should have been something? More energy? More corruption? Hell, even increased ghost senses or some indication that the powers would be coming in.

According to Danny, intangibility usually came with the pit dropping out of your stomach and feeling floaty. Accidental floating came with a head rush or feeling like falling. Invisibility just fucking happened.

All he felt was weirdly normal? The fancy ecto ice was working, and his little ghost succulent - that or all the time with Danny; even Pitty’s flares of emotion were manageable. The green haze hadn’t come back since meeting Lady Gotham.

And okay, maybe he was pushing that by going right back to the manor the next day, but listen. Frostbite had reminded him to do calming tasks, since Pitty should start being more aware of their surroundings now.

Baking with Alfred was as calming and soothing as Jason could imagine, without stapling himself to Danny in classes. And sure, he’d helped with Danny’s homework the past couple nights, but the guy would get sick of him eventually. Faster if they stayed attached at the hip.

(And that had been another “fun” tidbit Frostbite had dropped on them; if they were actually making their own ghost baby, they’d have been able to trade the core off between them. Jason hadn’t thought anything could make that idea sound appealing, but if he coulda just stuffed Pitty into someone else… well, he probably wouldn’t actually wish its corruption and constant tantrums on anyone else, but having a break woulda been nice.)

Now that his core was done, technically the daily hanging out probably wasn’t as necessary. So long as Jason had some backup plans to keep himself calm and in control. Which should mean that they could go from hanging out as a necessary chore to just… friends.

And since no one in the city wound Jason up like Bruce, if he happened to also be at the manor he’d have a trial-by-fire for his shiny new core. He’d kept his word and tapped out of patrol since meeting Lady Gotham (and apparently Harley had taken the manor in fire and glory the night after and locked Bruce… somewhere for two full days), so he’d not heard from B since.

According to Tim, Constantine hadn’t returned to Gotham at all.

The thought of their names only stirred angry bubbles from Pitty, and Jason absolutely wasn’t self destructive or a masochist, so he was just testing to see how far that’d last. How careful he’d need to be, and how aware the little guy was.

So obviously he wasn’t even all the way into the manor before he ran into the man himself.

Stopping short, Jason’s fist clenched more from force of habit than any actual desire. Sucking in a deep breath, he thought of his ghost succulent (which had started glowing faintly blue a couple nights ago, which was hopefully a good thing?) and carefully unclenched. Nodded a little stiffly.

This would be the first time they’d been alone together since… shit, he didn’t even know. He hadn’t seen the guy without the buffer of at least one other bat in months.

“Bruce,” he said warily, half hoping the man could just… be normal. For once. Nod, say hi, fuck off about his own business. He couldn’t still be on his anti-Danny crusade, could he?

The man actually flinched, face twitching through a couple of expressions Jason couldn’t even guess at. A sudden urge between his shoulder blades did nothing to help, distracting him long enough for everything to be smoothed under the usual masks.

If Bruce just had a damn aura… okay, that’d be one change with the completed core. All of his attempts to reach out with his own aura before had basically involved his whole body actually leaning in the same direction.

That… urge, itch between his shoulders, if that had been his aura trying to reach out, felt more like an entirely new muscle group. Curiosity won and Jason focused, trying to follow the urge and reach out… and wasn’t sure it had worked at all.

Because all he could feel was sorrow and regret, and that didn’t sound like B. At all. His compartmentalizing was out the ass, sure, but what the hell would he actually feel sorry for?

“Jason?” And from the sound of it, not the first time he’d said his name. Great.

Shelving the apparently-faulty aura for now, Jason frowned back.

“I’m here to see Alfred.” It wasn’t exactly a warning. Wasn’t exactly a threat, although it carried the possibility. Meant that if B pissed him off enough to leave, he’d face some British disapproval.

Bruce’s shoulders sagged just a little, and then he drew himself up, his face firm and resolved. Jason tensed automatically; if he actually tried to bar him from seeing Danny face to face, would he still be able to walk away?

That was why he’d brought the glacierfrost. Slipping a hand into his back pocket, he crushed a crystal quickly before the man could open his mouth. Wintergreen mint burst across the back of his tongue, another brief flicker of distraction that, for some reason, came with another pang of sorrow.

“I’m sorry.”

Jason nearly stumbled, and he hadn’t even been moving. Bruce looked… tired, all of a sudden. More tired than he could remember ever seeing him.

“Wait… what?”

Bruce gave him a sad smile.

“It’s been brought to my attention… multiple times… that you should have heard that from me alone first. And then I kept adding more and more to be sorry for. And I know you don’t want to see me, so now seems like the best time to start.” It was jerky, and awkward, and probably the most uncomfortable Jason had ever seen Bruce in a conversation.

Which only served to confuse him further. Bruce overplanned everything; he never acted without at least two layers of backups. It was why he had a million plans for every possible micro-scenario. He didn’t do spontaneous.

“What are you even talking about?” He asked, half exasperated, and Bruce’s smile widened a fraction. That only made it more self deprecating.

“There are too many things to count, but… Jason, I’m sorry I sprung the apology on you at the gala. I thought having the world as my witnesses would show you I meant it, but I should have asked first. I should have apologized first, to you. Alone. I’m… aware what it says about me that I couldn’t.” He was almost wearing one of Brucie’s self-deprecating smiles now, but the edges were raw. Unpolished. Certainly not camera ready.

Real?

Jason’s mouth opened and closed a few times, his brain entirely short-circuited. Of all the things Bruce could have said to him… of all the things the man might apologize for, he’d honestly forgotten all about the damn gala speech.

Forcing himself to focus, he folded his arms and regarded his former father figure warily.

“Sure, that’s a place to start,” he agreed, more sarcastically than he’d meant to. But he couldn’t take it back.

There was another moment of stiffness, and then Bruce’s shoulders sagged as well as he breathed out, still looking… well, so much more human. More breakable, more fallible. Or was that just from hearing him admit he’d been wrong?

“I do mean it, Jason. I did mean it,” he said softly, piercing blue eyes unusually gentle as he looked him over, and suddenly Jason knew what was bothering him.

The mask. The iron mask of Batman, the bumbling shield of Brucie. B always had a mask, over every interaction. Every situation, every possible scene, B always had a character to play. And he played them well.

That was what looked wrong about him. He wasn’t… intentional. His posture was open and unthreatening, his face lax in a way it never was while he held every muscle in check.

This was just actual, sincere B.

Jason wasn’t completely sure why that made him want to run or cry, but it said a fuck of a lot about him too.

More that he just couldn’t bring himself to return it.

Sucking in a sharp breath, seriously considering grabbing for another crystal, he nodded sharply.

“Okay. Now what.” Because that was the thing; Jason had never wanted B to be sorry that he hadn’t come for Jason. That he finally hadn’t been on time to save him from himself.

He didn’t want the apology, he wanted things to change. To be better. For Bruce to accept that it had happened, and Jason was who he was now because he’d decided to be, not the pits or Tallia or the Joker.

He wanted so many things.

Bruce was searching his face, eyes sharp even as he consciously kept the rest of the expression open. Jason could see the tick of muscle in his cheek. Fuck, was it that hard for Bruce not to put on the act?

After a moment, he spread his hands. A gesture of peace? Not holding a weapon, not tensed for an attack?

“That’s all. For now. I just… wanted you to know. I’m sorry. And I’m…” the expression pulled a little, becoming pained, “I have been told I am overreacting to the news from Amity Park as well. I should trust your judgement. So I’m pulling myself from the case to focus on the Anti-Ecto Acts.”

This time Jason’s jaw just dropped. B… Bruce never. Never pulled himself from a case. Not for broken bones, ruptured organs, not even if he’d died.

It was almost worse than the rage; all of a sudden he was lost at sea, the one grounding, immovable rock in his life swept away. Part of him was even angry at that - at B suddenly deciding that now, this time he was going to be reasonable.

When all Jason expected from him was judgement, antagonism, stupid overbearing demands and being held at arm’s length, now all of a sudden the Bat was human.

It was too late to pretend the moment hadn’t happened, to completely hide his shock, but he also couldn’t stop the bluster from rising. Not the way his eyes narrowed suspiciously, even when every part of him that had been Robin desperately hoped this was real.

“And what the hell brought that on?” Not the accusation in his voice, although for once Bruce didn’t rise to it. He just chuckled dryly, like he’d been expecting Jason’s reaction.

“Because you were right.”

And now Jason was fully on edge again, scanning the man more closely for any signs of hypnotism, mind control, that this was a clone or a replacement. A trap or a trick. Because B… Bruce would never…

Bruce raised both hands quickly, possibly expecting Jason to just… jump him. Which, to be fair, would have been a more normal interaction.

“You were the one who brought the Amity Park situation to our attention. And you’re right, that I can’t expect your doctor or any other ghost to come here to help you until it is safe for them to do so,” he added quickly, and Jason rocked back onto his heels.

Of course, the caveat. That made sense, bitter in the back of his throat as it was. Just an inarguable set of facts.

Not like he’d ever actually admit that Jason’s judgement was reliable or anything. Folding his arms again (partly to stop his fists from clenching), he gave Bruce a sceptical look.

“Right, so what finally yanked your head out of your ass about it?” He asked sharply. Bruce gave him that same wry smile.

“Diana. And Harley. And Alfred. And Selena. I have been… extensively informed I had my head up my ass. So. I’m sorry for that too. I just wanted to tell you before I left, since I don’t know when we’ll see each other again.”

And it shouldn’t have been funny that he actually looked more pained talking about this, admitting a mistake, than he had when nursing broken ribs in the infirmary. Than he’d looked during any of their fights, than when Jason had all but grabbed his face and forced him to see that it really was him, that his dear little Robin came back wrong.

But dark humour was a refuge for all the bats, and if Jason didn’t laugh he had a horrible feeling he’d cry. All that tension, all those days he’d worried about what he’d say or do when they came face to face again… he’d never have imagined any of this.

Could imagine another bloody battle before imagining Bruce saying sorry.

All of a sudden he was just tired. Ha. Dead tired.

Nothing drained the life out of him like dealing with Bruce.

“Great. So where are you going?” It was almost a rhetorical question; he didn’t really expect an answer.

Should have, though. Obviously B had to stick his foot in it again.

“Amity Park. As Bruce Wayne, not Batman,” he added quickly when Jason’s head snapped up, glare sharpening, “it seems the logical place to begin work on the acts.”

And alright, Bruce didn’t sound defensive. He never did; just obstinate, which meant so many things that guessing when it meant what was a losing game.

Jason groaned loudly, raising both hands to scrub down across his face. Because of course all that weirdness hadn’t changed a damn thing. B was gonna B, creepy and intrusive and all.

“And look into Danny.” He said flatly, locking eyes with Bruce in time to see his expression twitch. Was he actually gonna lie?

Apparently not. Bruce sighed and nodded.

“My focus will be on establishing a connection between “Brucie” and the Anti-Ecto Acts, and investigating the GIW. Danny has been involved in both, and Zatanna has requested the elder Fentons provide me with protection,” he said like it was anything but a weak excuse.

Jason stared at him for a long moment, and then figured fuck it. Actually telling them before he left was technically still an improvement, and Danny and Jason were both well aware that there was gonna be some nosy bullshit.

He’d warned Danny this was gonna happen, and Danny had said it was fine. That he didn’t care about anything Batman might find… and knowing just how badly the Justice League had fucked up was going to eat the asshole alive. Which he could have avoided just by listening.

About to just walk away, Jason hesitated. There was actually one thing… technically not a necessary for a halfa, but fuck it. Might as well get B used to some ghostly etiquette early.

“Have you asked Danny?”

Bruce stilled, giving Jason a complicated look that mostly felt like judgement. Like Jason should know better than to ask.

“I was under the impression that removing the Anti-Ecto Acts is a priority?” He said stiffly, all awkward tension again.

Jason really did roll his eyes this time.

“Sure, but you’re going to his haunt. You text Superman before investigating in Metropolis.” Which technically hadn’t even been true when Jason was actually Robin, but B did text Clark before getting caught investigating in Metropolis. By anything but Kryptonian hearing.

The protocol basically only applied whenever another hero wanted to operate within Gotham because only Batman cared, but it was on the League’s books.

Bruce had picked up the wording though, because of course he had.

“His haunt?” He asked carefully, that tiny tick between his brows that meant he was processing starting up.

Jason rolled his eyes harder. For emphasis. Had JL Dark actually missed this part of the briefing? He was so not writing up Ghost Etiquette 101 for the league. No way.

But. It. Might be kinda cool. To have for himself. Especially since it was gonna be increasingly relevant.

“He’s a ghost hero, B. He died there, he protects the city. He’s like, the only one who’ll actually get your territorial crap, because in his case it’s part of his makeup.”

Actually, might be part of B’s too. Danny hadn’t said how liminal Bruce in particular was, but it really wouldn’t surprise Jason if claiming a haunt was part of it. Or if Lady Gotham had already picked out a spot for him.

That thought stung, so he dismissed it immediately and turned towards the kitchen. Hell with the brownies he’d been planning, he was gonna need something much more complicated to keep his mind off the latest wave of bullshit.

Alfred liked soufflés. Jason could activate the house defences to keep the little gremlins out until they were done.

“Just fucking text him, B. Entering a ghost’s haunt without permission is declaring intent to throw down, and that’s a fight none of us need.” No matter how much he might like to watch B go up against the ridiculous power-set Danny was packing.

Sure, the Bat went toe to toe with the gods, but that was with plans, tech, and often, backup. Apparently he still didn’t know shit about ghosts, so it’d be fun to watch him try and adapt on the fly… especially when even Danny wasn’t sure how many actual powers were on the table.

**

Bruce hesitated for a long moment, looking at Jason’s retreating back.

That had gone… frankly he did not trust his own read on Jason enough to tell. Neither of them had yelled. He’d said what he was prepared to; he was still working on the appropriate format for the rest.

Jason… hadn’t reacted. Not with anger, which was a blessed relief, but not with anything else either. Except disbelief. Exasperation. Shock.

Not really any aggression, though. That had to be a decided improvement. And while part of Bruce suspected he’d been told to inform Danny so the boy could hide anything unsavoury….

He’d known that was likely to happen when he told Jason his plans. Jason would tell Danny; his allegiances there were firmly (and worryingly quickly) established.

Telling Danny himself… there was a chance that Jason had been serious about it being a matter of protocol. A formal request, for contact with an inter-dimensional entity.

Despite that entity being present and active in Bruce’s own city without so much as a nod to the Bat. But then, Batman was not a ghost, despite what the goons liked to suppose.

Firmly marshalling his own suspicions, Bruce pulled out his phone to message the youngest Fenton.

Stopped.

Bruce Wayne didn’t have the boy’s number. But Danny knew at least Nightwing’s identity; it was possible he knew them all.

He was going to Amity Park as Brucie Wayne, not Batman. But Brucie Wayne had no way to get the correct phone number. Unexpected contact from Batman was… well, expected, to an extent.

And his investigations would be handled and presented as Batman. Surely no one would challenge Brucie Wayne to a fight?

Mind made up, Bruce took his vigilante phone out and did a quick scan through his childrens’ updated contact lists. Most of them seemed to have been enjoying the company of the Amity Parkers; it wouldn’t be hard to get Danny’s contact information.

**

So. New year, new problems. Danny used to say it as a joke, but this year it was looking pretty darn literal.

Last year, for example, he hadn’t had to worry about his parents finding out about his supposed “love life” from a magazine (that Jazz must have sent them after they’d gone back to Amity Park, the traitor), and calling to hound him for details.

He’d managed to talk them out of driving the GAV straight to Gotham to threaten Jason into “treating him right”… which Jason thought was funny solely because he still didn’t actually know how large Jack Fenton was, nor how intense Maddie could be.

He still thought of them as civilians, and maybe a little less than competent, thanks to the database and their zero capture record.

Maybe Danny was cultivating that ignorance specifically so he could watch the moment of truth in person. Sue him, it was funny.

Unfortunately, since the magazine had also included that the gala they’d been “hooking up” at had been to celebrate Jason’s return from the dead, his mom had reached the halfa conclusion on her own. Danny had wanted to let Jason decide when to tell her, but that very first phone call the first words out of her mouth had been “Daniel James Fenton, have you met another halfa without telling us?”

And Danny had been so taken aback by them actually noticing anything (it was to do with ghosts, of course they’d noticed, he’d kicked himself for days after) that she’d taken his speechlessness as confirmation.

So.

They had that out of the way before they even said hi.

Despite Danny’s firm assurances that he and Jason weren’t actually dating, the papers were making the whole thing up (the photos hadn’t helped, but his dad seemed to buy that he’d been. Trying to help Jason fix his shirt. After the rogue attack, y’know), his parents had insisted on another call with Jason.

And Jazz. Because he had to introduce his sister to his new boyfriend too.

Jason had… taken it well? Hadn’t gotten much of a word in edgewise, around Jack Fenton’s boisterous laughter and insistence that he come around some time soon. He’d agreed with Danny that they definitely were not dating, which.

They weren’t.

They just weren’t.

They were just. Friends. Who hung out after classes in the evening. And texted all day. And told each other their deepest darkest soul secrets in like, a week after they’d met.

Danny’s mom had seemed a little more convinced by the end of the call, but still insisted Jason should come down to Amity Park anyway, to get to know the family.

Danny was still in denial about it being even a little bit helpful, but Jason had decided to drop the Fright Knight bomb right away. It was the actual real reason they were so close now, so it made sense as an explanation that wasn’t them being partners or whatever.

(Danny still hated it. Resented he couldn’t be trusted to just… have a friend. It always had to be something stupid and dramatic.

And he was totally offended by how immediately relieved his mom had been that he’d have someone “looking after him”. Like he wasn’t a whole ass adult for years already, and the king of a realm for longer than that.)

And now he was gonna have to call them back, and probably get a message to Fright Knight, because Danny’s newest problem was that Batman now had his phone number.

And was asking his permission to go to Amity Park to deal with the Anti-Ecto Acts.

(“Brucie Wayne” was officially the one going for the Acts, the message only said that Batman would be escorting the billionaire and gathering evidence separately, but Danny wasn’t fucking buying it.

And since Batman had his phone number and had used it, Tucker could technically get into Batman’s phone and prove it. Like Constantine showing up at Wayne Manor left a shadow of a doubt.

But noooo, Danny knew all about dramatics and billionaires and their sketchy underground labs. He could play along.)

Which, technically, might wind up solving one of his biggest problems.

It was also gonna completely ruin all the work he and Jason had done persuading the Fentons they weren’t dating; he could already hear his dad booming delightedly about meeting future in-laws. Because why else would Jason’s dad go to visit?

Not like there were actual laws on the books declaring Danny as a mandatory extermination target. Or like the Justice League might finally have gotten their thumbs out of their asses and want to check in.

Clearly Danny’s love life was the only thing that mattered.

At least he wouldn’t have to worry about that crap from Frighty; all the ghosts were gonna know all about Danny and Jason’s soul resonance (be still his beating fucking heart that was still ridiculous). He would have to let him know a superhero was gonna be in town though.

Actual ghosts weren’t likely to mistake Batman for one of their own and these days most of Danny’s rogue gallery was cool about not picking fights with humans without Fenton tech, but Danny figured better safe than sorry.

And.

Maybe.

Really wanted to see Batman and Fright Knight hang out. They were gonna totally love or totally hate each other, and either way he was a little sorry he was gonna miss it.

Unless he gave in and took time off class, kidnapped Jason from whatever work he did, and made the trip home… because he’d been direly warned that if he did show up without Jason, Jack Fenton would drive him back to Gotham personally. So, no. Nope. Not happening.

The long and the short of it was that instead of being blissfully free of his parents nagging him to visit until the summer, he was now fielding calls and texts demanding he come back home for March Break, at the latest. And bring Jason.

Mom wanted to “assess him”, which was fucking terrifying and the more Jason didn’t take it seriously the more Danny was tempted to actually make the trip. It would at least come with a defined end date. And force Jazz to take a break if she wanted to come too.

She at least had been less insistent on calling him every single day to bug him about it; probably because she was busy frying herself to death at university. She’d apologized for missing the group chat too, and the first family phone call, but it wasn’t a huge surprise.

Jazz had had the helicopter parent firmly knocked out of her by double majors, which Danny used to think was a good thing. Now he considered it might actually be a sign she was… not cracking under the pressure? But not taking care of herself.

Hopefully it wouldn’t return full force once she got some actual sleep and decent food in her.

Honestly, Danny wasn’t unaware that this was the most normal his problems had ever been. Just a few years ago he’d have done anything but wish to Desiree that his biggest problem would be “my parents think I’m dating one of my friends”.

Right now it was looking pretty good too, actually. Because at this precise second, Danny’s biggest problem was that he was running out of excuses not to talk to Nocturn.

***

Tim was beginning to think he had a bit of a crush on Tucker Foley. It was a surprise to him as much as anyone else; normally the kind of fawning adoration that tech geeks usually followed him with was an instant turn off. There was just… no point getting close to people who saw him as an idea, not a person.

And, frankly? The mere existence of Timblr probably would have been a red flag for anyone else. Sure, Tucker had closed it down, but it still existed - and Tucker Foley could have taken care of that easily.

The thing was… even under the hero worship he’d caught in Tucker’s eyes when they were first introduced… well, Tucker wasn’t exactly respectful to his heroes. That did tend to follow along with a friend in a teen hero career; everyone else was instantly less cool by association.

Tucker just plain wasn’t a good fanboy. He hung on Tim’s every word, right up until they started talking tech - the subject he most admired Tim for. Didn’t admire him enough not to cut him off half way through an explanation, call an idea “archaic”, or ask if Tim was serious.

(And okay, once or twice he hadn’t been; just testing his technical chops.)

The thing was, Tucker wasn’t only a genius with regular technology, he was a prodigy in an entirely new field of software and occult collusion, and he knew it. He was delighted to upgrade Tim’s systems (although Danny would still need to do the full ecto-infusions; Tucker could interface, but didn’t produce his own ectoplasm), and more than happy to point out everywhere they needed improving.

Tim genuinely respected his opinion, which wasn’t a distinction he gave to many people who’d never worn a cape; he’d already cc’d the other, Lucius Fox, into his and Tucker’s email chains. (Lucius was very enthusiastic about the oncoming apprenticeship - for him.)

And Tucker was funny, allergic to personal privacy, and… well, Tim was pretty sure he’d felt those first twinges when, as promised, he tagged Tucker in to help interrogate the Riddler.

Digitally, obviously. With Tucker’s classes starting back up and the New Years hangovers finally clearing the board, the next time they saw each other in person might be upsettingly far out. But Tucker had cheerfully hacked his way into Gotham PD’s systems and made himself comfortable while Red Robin and Batwoman waited for Riddler to be brought in.

Tim had so few pure pleasures in his life, but watching Kate try to keep a straight face when the interrogation room’s speakers began blasting what was essentially a stripper theme perfect for Eddie Nygma the second the door closed?

Riddler had been utterly baffled as well, talking over the beginning until they reached the chorus, where the singer practically spelled out his name. His stunned silence had given way to a burst of offended protest that was entirely undercut by the way his fingers kept time.

As the teen hero in the room, Red Robin was allowed to snicker at him, but Batwoman had to pretend to be an adult about it.

And when the first song ended, silence had fallen for what must have been a perfectly calculated fifteen seconds, and then the Jeopardy theme began playing.

Of course, soundtracking hadn’t been Tucker’s only contribution to the interrogation, just Tim’s favourite. Red Robin had the tablet from the gala back from evidence, from which Tucker had cheerfully admitted in Matrix style scrolling green text that he’d been the one back-hacking Nygma’s files… and locking him out of them.

And replacing every single link Nygma had clicked from the night of the gala to the day Batwoman hauled him in to a random page from Riddles.com, which Riddler had declared a new vendetta against every time anyone would listen. It was beautiful.

Robins were professionally annoying, it was part natural talent on all of their parts (except Damian) and part intensive training on how to disrupt thought patterns and push people into mistakes. Tucker could have led the class, and Tim had been overtaken by a powerful urge to kiss the smug grin he could feel through Tucker’s text straight off his face.

Of course, Tim had a boyfriend. And had been overtaken more than once by similar urges for almost every one of his friends, when they did something brilliant.

Steph called it oral fixation, Tim preferred positive reinforcement. Conner found the whole thing extremely funny, especially since Tucker still stumbled over his words if Conner was so much as looking at him.

Which made all of his siblings trying to tease him about Tucker’s “crush” on Tim look ridiculous, by the way. Tucker Foley was not a subtle man; he couldn’t even string a sentence together around someone he actually liked.

He could string plenty of sentences together around Tim, the two of them could finish each others’ half the time.

(He wasn’t upset about Tucker’s obvious interest in Conner either; Tim knew damn well his boyfriend was an incredible catch and he was lucky to have him. Tucker’s crush was just… peer review.)

Already he was counting down the days until March Break, when Tucker was going to visit in person again. Honestly, he might push to get a zeta put in nearer to MIT in the meantime.

It wasn’t like the institute was never targeted by supervillains, it would just be practical.

But Tim himself couldn’t suggest that now, because then all of his siblings would jump on the Tucker thing and he’d never hear the end of it. It was a dilemma… because even if Conner or Danny could just go and pick him up again, zeta was just faster.

It had nothing to do with missing time that Conner and Tucker were bonding, or being a puppy waiting for his master to come home, whatever Steph said.

(And honestly, Tucker Foley? Not exactly commanding “master” material. Until he was talking about his area of expertise. Then he was certain and confident and got this really attractive gleam in his eye…)

The quickest solution would be getting all of Team Phantom officially involved in the Justice League, of course. Then he wouldn’t even need to suggest it; close zeta access was vital for all of the heroes.

But Team Phantom couldn’t join the League until Phantom’s existence was no longer illegal. So they had to dismantle the Anti Ecto Acts. Bruce was investigating the GIW, and planning what he probably thought was a secret trip to Amity Park, but none of it was happening fast enough for Tim… because it probably wouldn’t be done by March Break. In two months.

He’d broken more than just the American government in two months; all it took was the right leverage. And a complete lack of self restraint.

So, y’know, Tim had a new side project in and around his other Gotham cases. All he needed was a house and then senate majority, and they could get those laws repealed the second the government came back from break.

Lois Lane was already working on the story, Clark would probably join Bruce in Amity Park (whether he knew Bruce was there or not) for interviews. There was only so much public pressure could do though, and that never worked fast enough either.

Not compared to Tim’s preferred methods. He liked the personal touch.

****

Fun fact, slower core formation? Had not meant slower ghost powers. Not in Jason’s case, anyway; not even a week after his core came in, a coffee cup had slipped straight through his hand and shattered on the floor.

He’d stopped handling Alfred’s good china that day, mindful of Danny’s many horror stories about the school lab’s glassware. Alfred hadn’t actually questioned it, although he’d gotten a couple of raised eyebrows when he slid a junk mug toward the kettle.

It was just a good thing he’d already cut down patrolling; he’d been planning to take a step back anyway for a while. Just until he got the balance right between being Red Hood and the newly resurrected Jason Todd.

He’d had to stop entirely, at least until he got the intangibility under control. Sure, becoming temporarily impervious to weapons would be convenient when he got to choose when it switched off or on. Phasing various limbs half way through solid surfaces and getting stuck though?

No.

Not a chance in Hell. That was not an acceptable risk.

Invisibility had started not long after, which had definitely complicated his trips to the manor; all the bats were good, but vanishing completely out of the blue? That would raise comment.

The good news was that the glacierfrost seemed to be helping there too; either because of the ecto in the ice, or just keeping his emotions regulated, which kept the powers from acting up. Jason wasn’t taking unnecessary risks, but he’d noticed that for at least a couple hours after a hit, he was in more control.

Intentionally turning the powers on was still a struggle, but apparently that’d just get better with time. And probably fighting - that was the common denominator under all his ghost problems.

Ghost Fight Club was officially starting the second he’d got the transformation down, but how exactly they were going to try and trigger that in a controlled environment was still… less clear than Jason would like.

They’d have to work it out soon though; the only other ability that was likely to kick in before he could transform was flight, according to Danny. Time was a-tickin’.

And… alright. It wasn’t like Jason was sat at home every night; that was what he and Danny were doing after school now that they’d cut back to at least a couple days a week. A little practice on budding ghost powers, with backup.

“Surveying his haunt” was what Danny called it, but it basically meant Danny going ghost and Jason putting on a domino he claimed he borrowed from Dick, and the two of them bouncing around the Alley. And occasionally Danny pushing him off roofs to see if flight had kicked in yet.

(It hadn’t, but he still had his grapples, and refused to let Danny rescue him from his own bullshit.)

Sensing the city’s natural ecto had gotten much easier with his core fully developed, and Danny was teaching him how to mark it with his own. Pitty’s ongoing corruption was fucking it up though; it was still producing corrupted ectoplasm, and actually more of it now that they were both whole.

(Jason had started sleeping with Frostbite’s ghost succulent next to his pillow. That was how he’d noticed the new blue glow, which he still meant to ask about. It was still firm and strong, and it… didn’t feel sick?)

Corrupted ecto reeked so strongly of that corruption that it was completely useless for anything else, apparently. So until they finally finished purging Pitty, what all their little adventures actually amounted to was tagging.

Danny made them special ecto-spray-paint, and they spent the nights finding weirder and weirder corners to spray a little mark onto. Jason would have liked to use something to do with Red Hood, for the symmetry, but. Well. He hadn’t worked out how to have that conversation yet.

He’d been making do with little ghost doodles. It had been years since he’d done any real graffiti art, but it was like riding a bike, and the ecto sprayed really well. A cartoon ghost wasn’t all that hard anyway; an elongated little blob, occasionally with little fangs or unattached clawed hands.

He’d been going for something like an Among Us bean, but Danny had declared that he was drawing Pitty, and well… it stuck. Doodling little Pit ghosts was the order of the day, ranging from cute little Pittys (modelling good behaviour, Danny called it) or vicious little bastards, depending on how both Jason and Pitty had been that day.

Because that was definitely one piece of good news, in with all the bullshit new ghost powers was causing. Before he’d felt surges of rage, the moments where the Pit was reaching out and trying to affect him. Universally bad, aggressive, and violent, pre-Danny.

He could kinda feel it all the time now, like a heated scarf draped over his body, or the constant breathing of a dog just behind his ear. It was quiet mostly, and he was beginning to suspect it had cost more energy than he’d ever expected for it to reach out to him at all.

For all that he’d worried about it being too much like raising a kid, it… well, the nice way to say it was probably that it wasn’t that bright. It could talk to him in ghostspeak, kind of; most of what he actually heard felt like emotional reactions, closer to speaking through auras than words despite how much it’d felt like it was crawling up his throat.

The Pit could handle basic concepts, recognised Danny’s name, but other than that? It mostly seemed to follow Jason’s emotional lead… and then dial it up to eleven. Which, yeah, was exactly what he’d been scared of when he thought it might be like, a whole ass person. Toddlers were terrifying little sponges.

Jason’s experience of kids wasn’t exactly what he’d call normal, sure, but Pitty was reminding him less of a kid and more and more of some kind of small and bitey animal.

Which, y’know, was a relief. Sort of. It wasn’t like he could fuck up an animal in the same way as he could a kid. Nowhere near the same level of responsibility.

Just. When he thought about the pit rage, the idea of it being attached to something which literally had fangs and claws was not exactly reassuring. Even at the size of a chihuahua.

A little impromptu art therapy while they marked his haunt wasn’t exactly helping with that part, but it wasn’t hurting. And he was trying to explain that feeling bad was not actually dangerous or harmful… via spray paint.

He was only about 70% sure that Pitty could see.

But it got him out and about, kept him in shape at least for swinging from roof tops, and gave him an excuse to hang out with Danny. It did involve actively avoiding anything he’d normally investigate (at least until he had a reasonable explanation… or brought up the Red Hood thing)… but it felt good. It was soothing.

Even knowing full well he’d made plans, prepared extensively, still had his guys making sure the Alley was safe and all was well, he still found himself itching to patrol on the nights he stayed in.

He could only assume that was part of the whole Haunt thing; he had good people working under him, and a couple of bright lieutenants that while he’d never let them wear the hood, he was comfortable giving them some solo enforcement missions to keep the fear of Red Hood in everyone’s hearts. All relevant parties, anyway.

Luckily he still had the library project as a convenient excuse for the bats. It kept them off his ass, and Jason could admit that it probably wouldn’t have taken much to persuade him to take a night run.

And get his ass stuck half way through some fucking wall somewhere, or lose a foot to a rooftop, and need to break himself free or call Danny in the fucking suit. Nope.

(He’d been tempted to let his family think he was saving his nights for Danny, which wasn’t even completely untrue; Danny wasn’t over every night anymore, not with his school schedule, but if he wasn’t over they texted.

Jason had begun saving a meme folder just for things to show Danny, which had quickly absorbed his full folder for death jokes and just kept going. Danny was going to be a very supportive “father” for their fake pit-kid, and had clearly been stockpiling dad jokes to send back.)

Honestly though, Jason was just relieved he’d already planned to slow the vigilante side for a while in the wake of his official revival; there was a lot that had to be done to come back from the dead, and a lot more he could do with official Wayne backing for areas of Crime Alley that Hood couldn’t touch.

He’d even let some of the bats in on those plans before Danny showed up; it wasn’t a surprise that he wasn’t patrolling. They were mostly leaving him alone about it, although Dick had offered to pop his Red Hood gear on and run a couple of patrols if things got too rowdy.

Jason had told him to fuck off, then got his street kids spreading the rumour that Hood was gearing up for something big. Let people think that the momentary quiet was just the first rumbles for an oncoming storm.

Hell, let them think Hood was in cahoots with Jason Todd-Wayne; that or preparing to run him out of the Alley. Let both of his lives work together for a while. The rumours shut half the fucking low-level dealers up; no one was pushing anything within three blocks of his territory, in case Hood was planning an expansion.

That’d boil over after a while and bite him in the ass if he didn’t go and kick something down, but for now it worked. He had so much to do for the library, for the new shelters from the Wayne foundation, for the soup kitchens. He actually was pretty busy, even on his nights in.

Fuck, he’d even taken time to hang out with the actual Alley kids, as Jason and Hood. The mouthy little shits kept him grounded, and maybe he’d tried it as a trial run for Pitty, but since that wasn’t gonna be the same problem he’d kept it up as a test of his own patience.

Which had. Very abruptly. Become the cause of one of his biggest concerns. Because the biggest change since his core came in had actually taken him a couple more days to notice.

Because now, Jason could see the fingerprints of the new entity.

That hadn’t been fun to work out; he’d been intentionally taking it slow until his core formed. Part of him had been sorta hoping to be able to just avoid anything that might set them both off until the Pit was ready to pop out on its own. Nothing related to the new case he couldn’t start, nothing related to the Joker or pits or any of that shit.

So when some of the kids had been showing up with some weird shadowy smudge on their clothes, he’d assumed it was the usual Gotham grime. They claimed not to see it, he threw them at the laundry room and cussed them out, it always came off.

Now the Curse, the Curse was staying out of Crime Alley entirely. He’d seen it during the day once or twice, a shadow attached where it shouldn’t be, a flicker over Damian or Tim’s shoulder. He always knew when the Curse was around now, a frosty fog filled his lungs whenever it was close.

(Danny had called it his “ghost sense”, which was lame but Jason didn’t have a better idea.)

And those smudges didn’t have the same kind of ozone-aftertaste that the Curse left in his mouth.

And then one of his girls, maybe seven years old, had come in with that same kind of smeared shadow sticking through soft black hair. He’d had some sharp fucking words with the older kids about that, he didn’t expect them to stay pristine at all times, but for fucks sake it was clumping.

Basic hygiene fucking mattered on the street, none of them could afford a proper de-matting or even a decent razor to shave their heads, so Jason had instilled the importance of bare-minimum finger combing in every one of them years ago. You could live with a fucking rug dragging at your skull, but it made absolutely everything harder.

He’d sat the girl on a stool and washed her hair in a bucket himself, while repeating the same fucking lecture to the other girls. Noticed half way through that while the sticky shit was indeed washing out of her hair, it wasn’t being broken down by the soap.

It was clinging to him instead, seeping into the creases of his fingers and under his nails. He’d tried not to visibly react, giving her a last rinse and wrapping her hair in a towel-hat that she didn’t stop touching for the next forty minutes, fucking it up a dozen times.

The smudgy crap had washed off his hands eventually, but when he saw Danny the next day he’d visibly backed up a few steps, then given Jason about six shots of ecto because his was apparently rancid again. No prizes for spotting the connection, and from there it was obvious.

And then he’d seen Harley the next day, that same smudgy crap a handprint around her fucking throat, and he’d seen red. Hot, angry, blood red, and it not being green had startled the life out of him.

(Harley noticed. Duh. It was her thing. And while Jason couldn’t just tell her some malevolent fucking entity made from her shitty ex was crawling through the city, he’d been as honest as he could be.

Harley definitely couldn’t see the smudges. Danny hadn’t had any answers or way to make it stop fucking touching people.)

Hypothetically, this was all gonna be good in the end. It’d make things easier, being able to see and track this shitstain’s work.

It did not feature in his “don’t get pissed off or think about work” plan.

It was just faintly possible that obsession, self flagellation, and a desire to be personally responsible for fucking everything might be more than just Bruce’s problem. Could maybe be a family affair.

Jason made more pies. Occasionally narrating what he was doing aloud, half for Pitty’s benefit and half for Danny’s when the little shit was crashing on his couch.

It was fine. He was coping. Another couple weeks, Danny reckoned, and Pitty would be out of his body and he could get back to his fucking life.

With a pet Pit ghost in tow, apparently, but if the worst came to the worst he could fucking soup the thing once it was outside him.

(He was also going to teach Danny to make soup. Proper soup. On principle.)

**

Preparing for his trip to Amity Park had taken longer than Bruce had expected. Not least because Alfred had finally run out of patience, and sentenced him to bedrest for the next 12 hours after he returned from the Justice League meeting lest he unlock the tranquilizer guns and give his children free reign.

In the old days, when he’d just become Batman, Bruce had assumed Alfred would never be able to catch him anyway. He’d been cocky and confident in his skills, and often ignored Alfred’s demands.

And yet the man always seemed to know, raising a disapproving eyebrow at Bruce every time he’d slipped back into the room just before Alfred made his rounds.

And then Steph came into his life, and Bruce learned all too fast that Alfred had merely been waiting for appropriate safeguards. That was three kids along of course, but by now Bruce knew exactly why it had been Steph Alfred had waited for.

His relationship with Dick was too tumultuous. While Dick never feared Bruce and was perfectly happy to join Alfred in nagging and bossing him around, by the time Dick moved out Bruce had half expected to only see his son at Justice League meetings, if at all.

They were different men, and Dick had always had an anger in him that Bruce couldn’t fathom. He’d mastered it, his control very rarely slipping, but… Bruce had trained Dick himself, and he was one of a very short list of people that Bruce had no concrete backup plan for.

Nothing but hope to make him cocky with the first attack, and pray the second caught him off guard.

His relationship with Dick hadn’t improved until Tim came into his life… and helped him get his head out of his ass.

Jason? Jason had been an angel. A scruffy, beaten down angel with badly bruised wings when Bruce first picked him up, but he’d flourished in Wayne Manor. He’d taken to Robin with joy and enthusiasm, but had more devotion to his studies than any of Bruce’s kids before or since.

He’d even stay in to study for tests, and if things had been different… perhaps he’d have been the one to break Bruce’s obsession with his night life.

But Bruce had begun taking that good heart for granted, pushed when he should have listened, and sent Jason to his death.

Tim had a hard enough time keeping Bruce from killing himself, along with anyone who stood in the way of his mission. He was a solemn, serious little boy from the start, and though Dick took a more active role this time around and declared himself a big brother (possibly to spite Bruce)… well.

It had to be Steph.

Steph, who would vehemently deny being one of his from whoa to go, was just like all of his children; a feral little gremlin. But Steph had that one more element too, the one which young Dick had had in spades but pulled back from with Bruce years before.

Steph liked to have fun.

Tim treated Bruce as a mission just as much as Gotham was Bruce’s, and Dick had never forgiven him for Jason. Or the fights that went before. Neither could pick up a Nerf gun and hunt him through the city in pure play in those days.

Until Steph gave them the guns, of course. Now any and every one of his children would happily take a tranq gun from Alfred and merrily stalk him through the manor and city at large, and even to the Watchtower if he tempted fate (and Tim).

Bruce was powerless against them, although pride warred with frustration every single time one of them managed to drug him to sleep. He’d trained them well. Well enough that they’d put what was right over what he wanted, that none of them were even a little afraid of him.

He’d planted the seeds of his own destruction.

So when he’d seen Duke and Dick hanging “casually” around the halls while Alfred escorted him to bed, he’d resigned himself to twelve hours of rest.

He’d slept for sixteen. And woke feeling much better, to his own chagrin. His head felt clearer, the migraine almost gone, and the sudden swoops of nausea had finally begun to pass.

He still had odd moments, especially when he’d been on the computer planning the trip to Amity Park for too long, but he’d reluctantly agreed with Alfred. He needed to fully recover from his concussion; that meant rest. And taking days and weeks instead of hours.

Amity Park would still be there, after all. He couldn’t get back the years they’d been late. He’d had to concede another two weeks.

Zatanna had also demanded an explanation for why he was suddenly interested in the town - luckily the Anti-Ecto Acts provided a sufficient cover. They were even most of the reason he was going.

She could also see the gravity of the situation, and offered to put him in touch with some local specialists who claimed to have tech that would keep him from being possessed. Specialists named “Fenton”. Because of course they were.

She’d offered him a ward as well, but mostly in jest. She knew how Bruce felt about magic, and had told him science was on the table almost immediately.

Bruce knew full well it wasn’t a coincidence. Formerly regarded as quacks, the Fentons had been featured prominently in all of their Amity Park news sources. Usually as menaces and a hazard to society, which aligned with what the Mansons had told him.

Still, their actions had nothing to do with the character of their son. Danny Phantom had been Amity Park’s protector for six years, although he’d not had many serious ghosts to fight for the last three.

As Foley had claimed, the ghosts seemed to have settled into a status of local nuisance that was oddly aligned with the Fentons senior; loud, intrusive, and often an inconvenience to your day, but not the threats to life, limb, or infrastructure that had characterised the first years after the portal opened.

Amity Park’s general consensus seemed to be that Danny Phantom had tamed the ghosts, won over the Fentons, and quite efficiently saved the day. He hadn’t been sighted there much in the past year, but that was because he’d been in Gotham.

In school. Finally being able to study and look towards his future.

His main heroic endeavours in the last three years of his career had involved the same GIW, the Ghost Investigation Ward that Foley had told Tim about. They unfortunately had not followed the general trend of de-escalation… although they had been rather subdued in the last year.

It felt different to Bruce, though. Incidents were less frequent, but those occurrences where they did find a ghost had become markedly more violent. The decreased frequency seemed to have lulled the townsfolk into believing they were also less of a threat, but the problem with pushing your enemies into a corner was how much more dangerous a cornered animal became.

There was something worrying happening with the GIW, that would have borne looking into even if he wasn’t also looking to understand Danny better. Preparing everything he’d need for the official investigation was most of what had slowed him down.

Of course, he was going to Amity Park as Brucie Wayne, not as Batman. Vlad Masters’ friendship was going to help him there; the man had been delighted to invite him down for the weekend when Bruce had reached out.

A little faked enthusiasm for football and interest in Vlad’s favourite team and he was a seemingly completely open book. He was more than happy to give Brucie the grand tour of his little town, and even promised a personal escort from the airport.

Bruce was beginning to suspect that getting away from the man might be more of a challenge, although he was another potentially useful source of information on the Amity Park situation.

Not that Masters was a particularly high priority source. But Bruce could admit he may have been hasty to dismiss his views on Danny as being biased, and as mayor he should know something about the GIW operations in his city… and given how many contracts with the agency could be traced back to his companies in the early days of the agency’s formations, he would be a much more serious subject for investigation than a source.

The good news was, everything was now in place. He had Danny’s permission and would be flying down to Amity Park in a matter of hours, and had already bought out the entire top floor of a local hotel, so he should have plenty of privacy to operate from.

With any luck, being able to set things in motion to repeal the Anti-Ecto Acts could also be a first step towards patching things up with Jason… and with Danny. No matter what conclusions Bruce came to in Amity Park, the Justice League owed Danny Phantom a serious apology, and the Infinite Realms some swift action.

Their negligence could have sparked an inter-dimensional war, and nearly had cost a young man his future. Bruce was self aware enough to admit that the guilt of that knowledge was a major factor in why he hadn’t spoken to Danny face to face again.

Yet.

At least Danny had given him permission to visit and explore his haunt. That had to count for something.

He was going to apologize. Probably after giving Jason the proper apology his son so richly deserved. Perhaps Jason would even be willing to help him work out how to properly apologize to Danny too; Bruce wasn’t good at apologies at the very best of times, but Harley had made it explicitly clear that he was going to be getting in a lot of practice.

**

Now, ya can call Harley Quinn a lot of things (and people definitely have), but one thing she ain’t despite the goofball act? Stupid.

Somethin’ was up in Gotham, somethin’ one heck of a lot weirder than all the weird shit that had marked her time in the city.

Oh, she’d gone an’ had another word with Brucie after Waylon told her how Jason’d had to leave through the roof after his talk with Constantine.

(She’d hunt Johnny-boy down later too, probably just after he decided she wasn’t gonna come for ‘im and stopped hiding, but odds on? Brucie’s fault, and Connie was just his unfortunate messenger.)

The thing was, he’d decided to sicc Johnny on poor Jason before they’d had their little talk, so by the time she caught him again he was already all downcast and shamefaced. Already admitting he done fucked up.

And it just wasn’t satisfyin’ to kick him while he was down, an’ while he was already tryin’. He’d even decided on his own to leave both boys alone for now, to let things cool down before tryin’ again.

Now, Mama Quinzel didn’t raise no dummy, she could see a million ways ol’ Brucie’s plan to go and try an’ fix Amity Park for Danny was gonna go wrong. But she wasn’t an expert at this ghost business, so she didn’t pretend to be.

She did exactly what she’d told Brucie to do; consulted an actual expert.

She asked Sammy and Jazzy, Danny’s big sis who was just a real darlin’, in their group chat (which had been popping off since Sammy was a lil sweetheart and set it up for ‘em; Jazzy-boo was of doin’ all kinds of neurological shit but she’d read some psych textbooks in her day, and Harley loved watching a self taught student grow). An’ then she hunted down Jason and Danny, to ask ‘em directly.

Which had been when she’d got her first clue that somethin’ was up; when Jason looked at her like she was still wearin’ a certain other clown’s paint, all stiff and locked up and full of anger.

See, that’d happened before. When they first met, him fresh outta the grave, her fresh outta Hell. When he’d asked if she and Joker were really through, an’ she’d told him hell yeah.

When he’d asked if she’d get in his way of killing the asshole.

That anger, all tight an’ tense an’ burstin’ had been wrapped around his throat then, chokin’ him on it. It was cooler now, more human, more like somethin’ the sweet lil sunshine child who could melt her heart with his tears could feel.

It still wasn’t, ya’know, in the vague vicinity of healthy, but she’d seen Jason Todd about to lose his shit before. An’ his hands shook when he touched her, when he asked what the hell she’d done to her neck.

Harley’d taken a good long look in several bathroom mirrors since. There was nothin’ she could see there, but Harley Quinn had been a short term guest in more than one Hell. There was plenty of shit she was all too happy not ta see.

Then there was ol’ Harvey. She’d run him down faster’n the bats, because she wasn’t also chasin’ Riddler, Great White Shark, at least three new plots from ol’ Pengy, or a suspiciously quiet and freshly escaped Scarecrow.

Two-Face had been all quiet an’ polite since his heist on the young Mr Todd’s party went tits up, so he’d flown under their radar.

Not hers.

Harley always made time for her old friends.

And Harvey had been weird too. Twitchy, on edge, jumpin’ at shadows. That happened if he thought the ol’ Bat was after ‘im, but he’d had no reason to think that. An’ for all he’d flipped his little coin and played up the bit, Harley knew when her friends were off.

Something had put Harvey on edge. Stuffed a bee up his ass and made him all snappy.

He’d even tried to pull a gun! On her! His sweet, darlin’, perfectly loveable and innocent Harleen!

So, ya’know, when she’d touched ground again an’ he’d run outta bullets, she’d knocked it outta his hands before he could reload and reminded him there were more than just Bats to fear. There was also her bat.

An’ by the time they were both all tired out and slumped against each other to order smoothies, he’d admitted he didn’t know why he’d decided to go fer young Jason. To attack their buddy Brucie’s boy.

Now, Harley wasn’t sure Harvey knew silly ol’ Brucie was the Big Bad Bat. She suspected he did, somewhere, in the part of him he hid from all the unpleasantness.

If he knew, he was repressin’ it real deep.

But he’d seen word of the gala, an’ something inside him went dark, and he’d flipped a coin. Got all sorts of plastic explosive of all things ready to really give Gotham a show they wouldn’t forget.

An’ then when it was time to roll out, nunna his cars’d start. An’ he’d flipped the coin again. And stayed home.

She snagged the detonators on his explosives on the way out, on principle. There were some rules after all, and while the Bats could certainly handle anythin’ ol’ Harvey could build, he shouldn’a shot at her.

Harley Quinn was officially out of the rogue game, but that had nothin’ ta do with shit disturbing. She was beginning to wonder though.

Somethin’ was weird in Gotham, a kinda energy in the streets that wasn’t the same black stubbornness she’d known and loved. Somethin’ that felt a little nastier. A little closer to biting.

Now, Harley Quinn was a lotta things. She also wasn’t a lotta the things everyone else thought she was.

She was no quitter. She was no fool. She was no coward to turn tail from some nasty vibes. She might still be a teensy weensy bit mentally disturbed, as you say, but she had her shit together.

An’ she knew when somethin’ else was tryin’ ta play with her head.

Much as she loved Gotham like a second home, she was beginnin’ ta wonder if she shouldn’t head back to Pammy an’ let their mystery of who was givin’ Coney Island a hard time sit with the Bats.

——————

The song Tucker’s playing for Tim and Nygma is here:

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IMPORTANT NOTE! Since about half the tag list no longer links to a blog, I will probably be retiring it for chapter 20, so either comment and let me know you still wanna be on it, or proceed on over to AO3 for alerts!

Part two:

[sixx6sexx2love]

FLUFF ALPHABET | NIKKI SIXX

UGH NO ONE ASKED FOR THIS BUT I DID HALF OF THIS A LONG TIME AGO AND FOUND IT SO I JUST FINISHED IT. AND THE ABC THING DID REALLY GOOD ON MY OLD ACC SO IM PRAYING THIS WONT FLOP.

word count; 1984

warnings; drugs, sex, alcohol, him getting a little angry, him being bitten by a dog, physical abuse (his step dad), lmk if I missed any (its funny when I see ppl say that knowing damn well yall won't say shit💀)

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

nikkis pretty affectionate, loves PDA and stuff. hes down for anything from just having a hand on your back to fucking you on a car in a parking lot. he doesn't care. he also likes cuddling and just hugging you, not just when he wants something or he's done something.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend?)

most likely fwb if you guys would be best friends. if not then at least have hooked up once or twice. but as a best friend he'd keep you around a lot, let you hang in the studio, get high with you at parties and makes sure you're safe (even though he encourages you to get shitfaced, and challenges you to drink offs)

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

YES he likes cuddles and you can't change my mind. fucked up, sober, upset or not, doesn't matter, he likes cuddling. his favorites could be face to face with your leg over his waist (he likes to sneak some touches sometimes) or his head on your chest or your head on his chest with one arm around you and the other to hold a bottle of liquor, or if he's needy, everything but sober, and upset, he likes wrapping his arms tight around your waist with his head basically between your tits. boobies make pain go away.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down?)

He would want to settle down but at a certain time. He said he's always wanted to be a dad and he would want to get married someday. like, I don't see you and him accidentally getting married in Vegas even in his drunkest state because he doesn't wanna get married now, what would you guys do when you were really ready to settle down and you guys already got married in 1984 or something?

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

if you guys had a real connection then he'd probably be upset about it for a while. he'd probably end it because he had to choose between the band or you or something. he'd probably call you and break it off or meet up with you and break it off. but just because you guys broke up doesn't mean you could get another boyfriend or something while he's still around. he on the other hand would probably hook up with someone in the next 24 hours. 

but if it was just a fling or you guys dated for a week or two hed probably just tell you it wasn't working and leave or he might not say anything at all.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

he wants to get married but not yet, he didn't know when. hell, he could've proposed with just the question a long time ago, but wouldn't get married until he knew he wouldn't be all fucked up. definitely would not get married around the time he was strung out on heroin 24/7. most likely would get married after the whole 2 minute death and wake up call.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He thinks he's more gentle than he actually is. not saying he's throwing you around all the time but hes definitely done some damage, accident or not. more so rough with your emotions and sometimes neither of you know it.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

he likes hugs, he hugs you enough to where it means something each time. he doesn't side hug you, if he's gonna hug you hes gonna make it a hug. hes the type to make sure you hug back and if you don't he'll keep hugging you until you do or until you hug tight enough. sometimes he'll fuck with you and keep telling you to hug him tighter and you end up feeling like you're taking his blood pressure or something. hes a tall guy so assuming you're shorter, when you hug him its normally where he sprays his cologne so you can smell it while you hug. but when he's a 6’4 monster in his platform heels you're to like his stomach or something.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

either really quick or really late. no inbetween. like the night you met or started dating hed tell you he loves you and acts like you've been dating forever and you're the one, or he waits too long to say it.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

yes. LMAO THATS ALL I GOTTA SAY. I've made posts about his Jealousy, and its not just cannon, its a fact. if we had to say from a scale from 1-10, I'd say his Jealousy is always like a 7.4 and up. dosn't matter who, if he doesn't like them and you guys are talking, he feels more Possessive than insecure.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

everywhere that can be kissed he will kiss. he likes a lot of tongue action in kisses, like his tongue would be all over yours of he'll suck on your tongue. something freaky like that. really, he likes to kiss you on your mouth but when he's fucked up he misses and like makes out with your neck or something. 

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

he loves children. its like a public secret. I have a picture of him when he went to Idaho and there was this little girl and I cant remember if she was opening a present or something, but he was just kinda watching her (i put the picture at the top). if you have younger siblings hed wanna meet them and get to know them, but if they don't like him and wants you to break up with him hed literally give zero shits. if it were like a pre teen hed probably be a little more awkward than with little kids or teenagers. hed probably be like “so, you like rock? you play anything?”

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

uh.. you guys rarely see mornings unless you're just going to bed in the morning. but waking up with him at any time there will be vomit, screaming (telling the other to be quiet while throwing up since the other has a headache), pain killers (maybe one too many) and more jack.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

now were talking. you already know. booze, drugs, sex, music, fights, all that.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

he probably wouldn't bring up his childhood by himself, maybe if you asked, but you gotta be careful. he wouldn't spill it all at once, maybe if he did itd be a drunken rant and you can't understand half the things he's saying besides hearing “whore mother” and “asshole dad”, but he would willingly tell you things like how he has a half sister who lived with his mom, and some things he did when he was young. but maybe after all those little things he says about his childhood and you piece it together you can get an idea of what happened. or maybe if he ever took you down to Idaho to meet his grandparents, his grandmother would show you the few pictures she has of him as a child, and her being the sweet lady she was shed probably just tell you about his mom and stuff.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

not really easily angered but easily annoyed and irritated that can lead to anger. hell get irritated when something doesn't go his way, and if its not fixed in a short amount of time hell get mad. he'll get annoyed at the phone ringing when you guys are having sex, and he'll get irritated if someone keeps calling. its like a loop.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

he'll remember what he can, he'll forget most of what you told him one night but would try and fill in the missing parts. but when you keep reminding him of what you actually said after like 2 more times, it sticks, and his memory gets better the more you guys date. because he knows you'll get tired of repeating and he really does wanna know your moms secret macaroni ingredient or some shit.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

probably the first time you hooked up. hes probably had his eye on you and you didn't really wanna move that fast in a relationship, but you managed to wait maybe 3-5 days in the relationship before you guys had sex.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts?)

its your birthday? pick what you want and he'll buy it. already picked what you wanted? he got you more shit. anniversary? probably rented out like a whole part of a club that was kinda blocked off so you guys could fuck on the couch with the table almost full of fruity drinks you wanted to try.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

I could go on and on. either read my other posts or you don't know him enough💀

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

God, hell genuinely tweak if his hair isn't a foot tall with hairspray. but when he's having a good makeup day he smiles :] like that :].

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

in a way. if you guys went strong and made it a while, hed probably feel lonely without you, or confused. like when he's just by himself and he's thinking of you and that you're not there, he has the look you make when you enter a room and forgot why you went in there.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

this isn't cannon but Nikki hates German shepherds because when he was young his step father (the one who beat him for brushing his teeth wrong) had one and the dog would always bite him and the guy didn't do anything about it. and when they were driving to Mexico the dog was in the car and bit him the whole way there

I feel like he makes good smores though LMAOO

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

now.. he said he doesn't like curly hair because he said everyone he's met that had curly hair was cock eyed. but don't let that stop you, it'll grow on him. hell still stand for not liking curly hair but would word it differently when talking about you. “her hair isn't curly its fuzzy. and I like it.”

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

hed take up the whole bed. he doesn't move much in his sleep so don't let him lay all stupid on the bed or he won't move. he also probably doesn't like blankets that much, he always kicks them off or gets annoyed at night from being hot and just aggressively but softly throws the rest of the blanket on your sleeping body.

[garagepaperback]

dandy They go to five different shops and still nothing. Ron suggests and then insists they break for food, which Harry allows because the next shop is in France and even if he pushed his fringe aside and they managed a last minute international Floo with no reservation, it still doesn’t open for another hour. 

Across the tiny bistro table at Hera’s, the posh little cafe off Diagon that both of them hate, Harry’s halfway through writing back to Pansy for the fourth time this morning. Ron, with a mouthful of his second inexcusably expensive mini breakfast roll, says, “Is it really that big of a deal?”

Harry blows out a lung and half’s worth of air, considering that response enough and folds the note up, shoving it towards the owl waiting at the open windowsill. It shouldn’t be this hot for early June. He woke up sweating, if he’s being honest, due to a couple of reasons. One of which is currently filling his stomach with lead, which reminds him of the small box in his pocket, resting against his thigh which is the reason and somehow also lead - getting the hair potion is the simpler task to focus on. 

“How about just doing a date night in a week or something?” Ron manages to sound almost like he believes it. He works innocently through another bite of sausage, bacon and egg but the smirk leaks through.

“Yeah. He’d love a quiet, no-fuss thing on his lunch break, maybe. It’s not like he’s one for details or drama or anything like that.” Harry belatedly notices the owl still there, staring at him, and bargains with a messy three-quarters of his already quite small pastel de nata, shooing it away once it accepts the bribe. Pansy’s in charge of the fireworks and she’s being a complete wanker about it.

Maybe that isn't fair - he’s very tired. Harry hadn’t actually woken up today as much as eventually conceded that it was morning after a full eight hours of staring at the back of his own eyelids. Next to him, Draco, however, had slept like the fucking minister of sleep, like an angel that was born only to dream and look really docile and soft and comfortable or whatever other kind of thing slept well - Harry doesn't know, he's too knackered for the metaphor. 

Just before bed, Draco checked the post and grumbled that the fancy hair potion he'd ordered last week hadn’t shown up and then Harry’s entire plan for today had begun its slow-motion avalanche. It’s bordering on a real disaster, at this point, though he can’t really tell if the feeling is actually big or it's the enormity of the day itself making everything feel huge. He drinks a hurried mouthful of coffee and leans over a little, staring through the window like that might summon the owl back quicker. 

“Do you think it matters that much? Like, in terms of the whole plan, d’you think he really cares about getting the shampoo he likes?”

“Not sure if you’ve met him.” Harry says, not taking his eyes off the empty street, the view from the window. It just feels like the owl could come back faster this way, and once the fireworks and the semi-legal aura-borealis-in-a-bottle are all confirmed, he can relax even just a single molecule more. “But he’s sort of like a really finicky breed of show cat. That I live with.”

Ron supplies, “And, that you shag.”

“And, that I shag.” Harry smiles.

“That you’re gonna marry.”

The smile stretches, dangerously close to huge. “That I’m going to marry.”

“I think, who cares about the shampoo, then.”

“I care.” Upending his glasses, Harry digs a knuckle into one eye, like he can push back the exhaustion and heart-obliterating anxiety and whatever other massive, wonderful, terrifying feelings linger all over, brimming just under the skin. “It’s not about the hair potion, though he is like, one Victorian petticoat thing away from going full dandy." Harry pushes a hand through his hair, looking back at Ron. "There's no way he's gonna say no, but it’s just... worth doing. Not to convince him, but. He notices stuff like this, all these little things, which makes me notice more little things, which makes the whole world feel like it's got more to it, like it's deeper or fuller or something and it's because of him that I-”

“Okay, save it for the vows, Merlin.” Ron pops in the sixth and final mini roll and stands up, chewing and thoughtful. He checks his watch, all in, Harry’s best fucking man. The best man. “Percy should be behind his very important department of transportation desk by now. We can bully him into getting the Floo authorization for bloody Paris, and still be back in time to meet Ginny at the bakery to get the cakes off to Wiltshire before your future husband even wakes up and wonders where you've gone off to.” “Future husband.” Harry repeats and Ron's grin is wildly contagious. Or maybe it's been idling in him even through the sleepless night, because he actually couldn't wait for today and today could hardly wait for him. Standing, he finishes off the coffee and runs a nervous, ready hand over his pocket. Inside, a weightless thing made enormous because it's the whole rest of his life, eager to arrive.

for day 27 of @microficmay

[ideasarestuckinmyhead]

Imagine telling the boys your parents/guardian wanna meet them...

Alphonse: oh shit are they even going to like me???

Boo: Dw about that...

Alphonse worried: why??? Oh my god what do I gift them?? Candy? Do they like candy?

Boo: let's go with yes...But don't worry you'll charm them like you did me!

Alphonse smiling: yeah I can do that!

•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•

Seth: OH! Um should I....make something? Would it be weird if I buy them a alcohol bottle? Fuck how do I impress them-

Scout smiling: how about one of your famous grilling dishes? They'll probably like it!

Seth rushing off: Shit I should start planning. Um Sugar when are we gonna meet them?

Scout: Tomorrow-

•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•

Charlie: OH cool I get to see your parents again!

Casper: yeah but they haven't seen you since what highschool?

Charlie wide eyes: ruh roh-

Casper: it'll be fine let's just think of what to give them!

•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•

Finn panicking: what if they don't like me? What if I say something stupid? What if I give them flowers their allergic too? Aahhhh-

Sunflower soothing him: its okay, breath Bluebell. I'll tell you what flowers they like or can't have around them! And if you can't think of a good bouquet we'll just make them something!

Finn smiling: yeah! I could um make them a drawing!

Sunflower: that's good! I'll think of what to gift them too. Don't worry this'll go fine.

•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•

Faust: oh shit they might hate me-

Star rolling their eyes: oh please you've been working on your people skills.

Faust worried: yeah after seeing I was a dick???

Star: well my guardian is a dick and might like you talking shit with them?

Faust hands on face: what do I buy them? Fuucckk

Star giggling: I'll help let's just think of what outfits we should wear!

•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•

Auron: Okay.

Rook blinking: what not scared they might not like you?

Auron bluntly: Rook if they don't like me they'll deal with it. You don't need their approval to be with me.

Rook sucking in a breath: um, yeah, let's say that...

Auron slightly worried: Right? Rook? I'm a good catch if I need too I can woo them into liking me.

Rook giggling not looking at him: don't worry I'm sure they'll see the you I like!

•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•

Lucien: um Angel I don't think they wanna see their child with a demon??

Angel panicking: I KNOW?? Fuck why did I say I was with someone??? Not that I wanted to hide you!

Lucien calming then down: it's fine Angel cake, I think I can make a human appearance? Ooo I should make them a devil food cake!

Angel smiling: Sure Biggs, don't use all the eggs like last time though!

Lucien half way to the kitchen: can't hear you busy planning!

•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•

Jack: oh sick! I get to meet my lovers parents! Wonder if they'll like me? Ooo what if I give them the discounts tickets I got for an amusement park?

Buddy giggling: my parents might like use them. But good thinking...remember those discounts for the fancy restaurant you worked at for a couple of years?

Jack brightening: yeah! I'll just give them all to them! I got a fuck ton that I still have used yet! We can eat there!

Buddy happy: I think they'll like how your a go getter!

•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ ｌｏｖｅｒ ｂｏｙ♡

Pairing: boyfriend!felix x chubby!fem!reader

Summary: Your new boyfriend comforts you during a depressive episode.

Genre: fluff/angst-ish

Word Count: 849

Warnings: mention of depression/some dark thoughts & feelings

A/N: Just wanted to write something for anyone out there who might struggle with depression and need some comfort ♡

This couldn’t have happened at a worse time...

But it was bound to happen at some point, you think, burying your face in your hands, a puddle of tears forming in your palms. Things have been going so well with Felix, better than they have with any other guy. From day one he’s been your Prince Charming.

Taking you on dates to botanical gardens blooming with flowers you thought could only exist in fairytales. Packing you lunch for work whenever he stays over with cute little notes tucked in the bag to brighten up your day.

Felix is a dream come true for you. You wanted, with everything inside of you, to be the same for him, but all of that’s over now. You’re sure of it. It’s the first night you’ve spent at his apartment, mere days after the two of you became official, and you’re curled up on his bathroom floor crying your heart out at 2 in the morning.

It’s nothing he did. He’s been a sweetheart, as always, cooking you dinner and making sure that you’re comfortable. Still, depression’s found a way to creep up on you, flooding your mind with thoughts that tear at the thin layer of confidence you’ve been pouring all of your energy into maintaining.

The pain is like a ton of bricks in your stomach. An invisible hand around your throat gripping tighter the more you struggle to twist away. The voice in your head, telling you that you aren’t good enough, mocks you for being silly enough to think you could hide this part of you from Felix forever.

He’ll see you, really see you, and he'll hate what he sees.

“Y/N, what’s going on?” Felix’s voice breaks through deep and scruffy from having just woken up, somehow remaining soothing in all of its power. Lifting your head up, you wipe your tears on the sleeves of your pajama shirt, positive you look a complete wreck. This is it. The end.

“I don’t…” you stutter, unsure of how to explain yourself, “I’m so sorry.” Based on the confusion that paints his face, you half expect him to back away only for him to do the exact opposite. He’s not running away, he’s grabbing handfuls of tissue, kneeling down beside you to tidy up your runny nose. 

“Talk to me. Did something happen? Did I do…” You sniffle, shaking your head, “It’s not you. It’s me. I’m just…fucked up I guess. Too depressed to keep my shit together.” Your head falls again, this time resting on your knees, and you close your eyes, wishing you could start this night over again.

For a brief moment, Felix shuffles around in a direction you can't pinpoint before two arms wrap around your body, hands clasped together where they meet your soft belly. He pulls you against his chest, strands of long hair brushing your cheek as his chin rests on your shoulder.

“You shouldn’t say that.”

There’s a sense of safety and connectedness within his arms that you haven’t felt in, well, ever. You're almost ashamed at how intensely his warmth shields you from the cold darkness closing in.

“You’re not fucked up. You’re just hurting and that’s okay. Well, it’s not okay but it’s…fuck I’m so bad at this.” Rolling your eyes, you reach a hand up to stroke his cheek, “Shut up. You’re not bad at this.” “Are we gonna sit here all night complimenting each other?” he teases, “Because we can. My butt will probably go numb though. I don’t have as much cushion as you. Don’t know what you see in me.”

The faintest giggle on your part has him kissing your neck, bear hugging you. “There’s my girl and that beautiful smile of hers.” “Don’t get used to it” you sigh, “It won’t last.” Felix just shrugs, “Doesn’t have to. I’ll still be here. I don’t care about you under the condition that you’re happy 24/7. You know that, right?” 

“I, well, I didn’t know…”

“Well, now you do.” 

His palm meets the back of your hand, fingers twining around yours to bring your arm down to your waist. “Let me be here for you. Give me a chance.” Hearing someone say that, hearing him say that, is more terrifying than you expect it to be. Trust is hard, trust is risky…

Felix leans forward to get a good look at you, a glimmer in his still sleepy eyes

…but if there’s anyone worth taking a risk on it’s the freckle faced boy staring back at you. 

“Uh…yeah…okay.” 

He smiles, “Yeah?”

 It’s impossible not to smile back, “Yeah.”  

“Good.”

Felix loosens his hold on you enough that he has room to lean his head on your back. “Want me to sing to you?” he yawns. You settle comfortably into the arms of your Felix, your safety blanket, letting your eyes fall closed from exhaustion. “Sing what?”

A stretch of silence lingers as he scans his brain for the perfect song to fit the moment.

“Oh! Got it! Fake eyes open…” 

“Felix!” you yell, slapping him on the knee.

“What? Bad timing?”

[str4ngr]

STARTERS [ SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY ]

cw: none, strangers to lovers, first meeting, not beta read, might be military inaccuracies because im not in the military, medic! fem!reader. notes: i've worked so hard [exaggeration] to make this look cute but ik its gonna devolve in 0.5 seconds. this is part one of a series. words: 1,065.

"This won't be easy."

A fair warning, a meager one too, from your new, technically, superior, Kate Laswell. You had accepted her offer as a combat medic, seeing as their next mission was supposed to take months. But those months weren't even this year, they were the next.

This year, it was your mission to become familiar with your crew, have a starter and a taste.

Considering you've dealt with plenty of irritable, ill-mannered patients in the E.D. before, it shouldn't feel so stuffy when you enter the base. You I.D. card was scanned, and you were permitted entry past the intimidating security guard who's eyes nailed you like you were his prey. You might've been.

Heels clacking, you rushed to your new office,

MEDICAL WING

A sign read, in red, right above your head. You wanted to feel like you were walking into a new life, but the stares and exhausted attempts at a smile the veteran nurses tossed you made a breath you didn't realize you were holding leave.

Luckily, offices were assigned, and yours was on the first floor.

Empty and quite sad, you tossed your backpack and purse onto your desk, which didn't even have a chair, and put your hands on your hips. Laswell had told you that they wouldn't be back until evening, it was morning.

It felt like walking into your first job, gingerly taking your steps to the staff lounge where you introduced yourself to the nurses who were lounging. They returned the gesture graciously, luckily understanding of your nerves.

Soon enough, your actual superior came to greet you, smiling and laughing with the rest of the staff as she raved about you. As soon as basic information was given, you were tossed out of your nest, bidding you a good flight. The ED never waits for anyone after all.

⚬

As your first day ended and your night began, you sat in your office, which you finally got a chair for, to sift through paperwork. Boring things never really last for long, and as much as you'd like to one-go your work, it definitely wasn't happening. Especially when your sweet nurses and the other doctors bombarded into your office, playfully asking, more like dragging, you to come with them to the mess hall.

It's impolite to say no, isn't it?

It was fun. It was like being in high school again, smiling and giggling before everyone leans into to whisper, bursting back out into laughter. Oh, and it was juicy. Real juicy, juicier when they mentioned him.

"Ghost?"

You ask, tilting your head as you raise a brow, "What kinda' callsign's that?" There was a strange inkling of familiarity of the name, just right under your nose. The nurse who was telling the story went wide-eyed, grinning at you,

"Oh, honey, he's the one with the skull mask."

The mask. The fucking mask.

Everyone could see it, how you face paled like snow, your head dropping as you gawked at them. They all laughed at your reaction, it was quite comical, though they found it funnier for reasons different than yours, teasing, "I haven't even said the story yet!"

Well, Laswell did. God, were you stupid? He was from Task Force 141! They all, allegedly, saw him in the gym, allegedly lifting double his weight, and allegedly you were blushing at the idea of the number, allegedly. And that was essentially the whole story. The nurse beside you poked as he cooed at you,

"Aw, does the doctor have a crush on her first day?" Laughing as you smacked his arm playfully, a stupid grin on all of your faces. The conversation moves on, talking about the soldiers that got into a fight, and how funny it was when one got a rhinoplasty. It felt like you were half-present, like a fever dream as your thoughts swirled together. Maybe your shift was a little too long.

But you couldn't stop thinking about him, your fork spinning the lukewarm pasta as you blandly laughed with your caffeine-high colleagues. Was he really that fascinating?

You couldn't stop thinking about him, your fork spinning the lukewarm pasta as you blandly laughed with your caffeine-high colleagues. Was he really that fascinating? Your mind ran with every though, you hadn’t even seen him today, and yet here you were imagining him, strong, tall, muscular. And of high status? he sure seemed like the pear most imaginative women would like.

But you can't expect him to be a perfect romance lead, especially the more you listened, seeing as he was quite the topic.

Everyone else seemed to just know him, know him in the sense that he was a figure of admiration. The strongest, the fastest, the most intricate, coolest man on one of the greatest task forces affiliated. They knew every little intricate detail of his service. But you didn’t. You don’t even know what they mean by a ‘skull mask’, was it a full skul? does he do face paint like a 3-year-old? You've never seen him, not that you were reluctant to the chance to.

Maybe you were insane, especially since there was the entire rest of the task force for you to get familiar with too. Well, he was one of them so you should go one by one, right—

"Ya' like to talk, dinnea ya?"

You twitched at the voice, "Scottish," You thought to yourself, "John 'Soap' MacTacvish." Laswell had some comments about him, mostly about his inability to speak understandable English, and his refusal to get a military standard haircut, aka he has a mohawk. But it wasn't just the Scot, the devil answered when his name was called.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley.

It was almost as if he knew who you were the moment your eyes met, like a fuse set off between you. Brown eyes, deep like dark chocolate, and cold like the tundra, and more magnetic than any other man you've ever seen, he stared at you, speaking to his friend,

"Seems like they do, Johnny."

Gravelly and low, almost inaudible if it weren't for your fixated ear, his voice whispered to Soap, his eyes never leaving yours. Soap, or Johnny as Ghost had so endearingly called him, grinned, plopping beside you,

"Aye, yer that new medic Laswell's been talkin' 'bout?"

You blink a couple times before you smile, nodding as you introduce yourself. Soap smiles back, polite yet inked with a bit of his eccentric personality, taking your hand into a firm shake. You smile up at the masked figure,

"You must be Ghost, right?"

He gave a bland grunt, not that you expected much more from a quiet man. Soap grinned, ignoring Ghosts lack of proper manners to introduce himself. With small conversation, they left, almost.

Although he walked away, he never left your mind, and you never left his.

⚬ ☠︎︎ ⚬

i think i'm just gonna set the reader to female bc ik i'm eventually gonna do suggestive bits so it'll be easier in the long run. lmk if you have any ideas for simon. [or the others i wrote about!!] also lmk if i should make a taglist. [part two]

EYES THAT HOLD SECRETS

directory

[h-harleybaby]

I really like South Park fractured but whole, so maybe you could do Team Stan + Butters reacting to their s/o wanting to be their hero sidekick?

Ughhhhh that’s such a good request. I was like, about to say that my requests are closed but lately I’ve been in a funk and really obsessed with tfbw so NVM I’M WRITING THIS! It might get me out of that funk I was talking about, I need to write anyways. Btw this is all like, aged up to highschool at the very least. You can't tell me they wouldn't still roleplay during highschool because I know damn well they would

You can kinda tell which ones I didn't put too much effort in sorryyyy I just didn't know what to write also also also ignore any mistakes

Cartman, The Raccoon

• Cartman literally gets so excited it's funny, but if you say anything about him being excited he flips you off and tells you that you can't be his sidekick (he's lying)

• He kinda thinks of everyone on the team as his sidekicks but you're like, his special sidekick and he'll never admit it

• He loves having you as his sidekick, NOW IT'S LIKE ALL OF YOUR MISSIONS ARE DATES!

• Cartman literally throws a fit anytime he has a mission you can't go on, he wants you there SO FUCKING BAD but he'll never tell you that

• He's weirdly protective of you but it's really nice (this totally isn't based off me talking to the Cartman character ai)

• You definitely bring snacks for you guys during patrol and I swear to god his pupils are hearts I'm not even kidding

• In my opinion, patrols and stakeouts with Cartman would be the best

• Out of all of them, he's the one you do the most with. Every other night there's some sort of crazy bullshit y'all deal with

• Most of the crazy bullshit being because Cartman caused it but shhhhh we don't talk about it

• Being his sidekick is a soild 7/10, he can get a lil selfish but he's really fun

Kyle, Human Kite

• Kyle's excited but more nervous than anything, he doesn't have anything to worry about tho!

• Y'all are a pretty good duo, even though you don't normally go on missions where y'all have to fight

• You guys work more with damage control, I mean kites are pretty fragile and mans is a human kite alien so like

• Not to say he's weak, he's far from it actually! He just has pretty low health and stuff ya know?

• HOWEVER! You're a pretty good healer so it just makes sense that y'all are always near each other on the battlefield, plus sidekick so yeah

• Not only do y'all usually do damage control but also a pretty good amount of recon

• Half of the time you guys end up getting caught and have to run away so you get to be on Kyle's back as y'all are gliding the hell out of there

• Its like, surprisingly fun to be gliding. The wind in your hair and the excitement is the best

• Anyways, because y'all don't see combat too often the patrols are really calm. Sometimes even a little boring but you don't mind, neither of you are getting hurt and that's all that matters

• 9/10, it's kinda boring sometimes but it's pretty nice to be with your bf. At least y'all don't get hurt and can goof off during patrol

Stan, Toolshed

• Stan's kinda indifferent about it, he's like "cool you're joining me... why?"

• Don't get me wrong, he thinks it's cool you wanna join him! He just doesn't get it too much, isn't it gonna be boring for you?

• Well, ya know what? Now he has someone to spend sleepless nights with when he's on patrol!

• Ngl he underestimated how much he would enjoy having you by his side, he's not lonely anymore AND SOMEHOW HE DIDN'T NOTICE HOW LONELY HE WAS TILL YOU JOINED HIM

• Ahhh, imagine if you had tool themed super powers too?? Y'all share some of his dads power tools and have to awkwardly try fixing them when they somehow break during battle

• You can't tell me Stan hasn't broken them before! He literally throws screwdrivers at people and shoves power tools into the ground, they have to break at some point

• Good thing you guys somewhat know how to fix things, y'all both probably would've been dead multiple times if you didn't know how to repair the shit y'all break

• Y'all have definitely had to clean blood off the tools at the end of patrols/nights. Literally almost every time, he really has to stop throwing screwdrivers at people

• Anyways, Stan thinks you're the best sidekick ever and he loves having you around. Having you as his sidekick is really fun overall, he wouldn't trade you for literally any other

• Being his sidekick is a good 8/10, it's not the best thing to clean blood off tools at 2 am but you don't mind too much

Kenny, Mysterion

• Part of Kenny is over the moon! The other part, not so much

• He doesn't want you to get hurt while you're his sidekick so he's probably a lot more careful on his missions than he usually is

• There's definitely a lot of flirting between y'all tho, he gets SO cocky when he's Mysterion. Its one of his favorite things to get you flustered and flirt with you like, mid battle

• He doesn't die as much as he used to now that you're there so that's nice! He can't bare having you see him die tbh

• Y'all often patrol more dangerous parts of town so you guys see combat REALLY often

• I mean it's not Kenny's fault that homeless methheads and rednecks keep trying to kill you guys. It's whatever, he's good at fighting and so are you!

• You are by no means delicate, no matter how much he tries to protect you from all the battle you still end up seeing it anyways

• He kinda thinks it's hot that you're so good at fighting, he's literally like "damn bbg, you can beat my ass any day"

• Kenny never gets used to you flirting back with him, he practically short circuits. You think it's cute how he can flirt so easily but get so flustered when it's reciprocated

• In my opinion, being his sidekick is 8.5/10 because of all the fighting and flirting

Butters, Professor Chaos

• Omg Butters is ecstatic! He didn't know how you knew he was Professor Chaos but he doesn't dwell on it too much

• Now you guys can bring all the chaos your little heart desires to South Park and he's so happy about it

• First South Park, then WORLD DOMINATION!

• You're not exactly one of his henchmen and he doesn't have the heart to call you his sidekick, you're something higher than henchman?

• Does it really matter? He's gonna bring chaos to the world with you by his side and that's all that really matters in his opinion

• Every time Cartman and his hero team beat him up after foiling his plans you always end up having to patch him up which is kinda annoying but it's fun to scheme with Butters during that time

• You definitely end up being the one who reminds him of his common sense, you're kinda like his rock in a way?

• He's so glad to have you by his side, plus now that you're here his plans actually succeed sometimes!

• The younger henchman all ship you guys considering most of them don't know y'all are actually dating, it's pretty endearing

• Solid 8/10, you rarely get hurt and it's kinda painful to see Butters hurt but y'all have a good time in general

No hear me out, like I wanna pick them all up and hug them like teddy bears. They're all so cute as kids even tho Cartman would probably and most likely has committed war crimes they're my lil cutie patooties. They're literally all really close to my height but I don't care I wanna hug them like teddy bears

If anyone has any recs for places to buy like, nice plushies of them I would appreciate it <3333

[bonny-kookoo]

Racer!jk might be my favorite one right now!!! Omg can we please have a drabble on that race where jk crashed?

...but also,,, pretty please can we have a drabble before jk was successful? Shes been with him thru thick and thin, i feel like it would be a great read to see how they were when jk got his first ever major win

I'm doing the second one, before his career really took off.

-> main work

"It looks so cute!" You say, looking at the front of the car. "Like it's smiling!" You beam, and Jungkook laughs, walking up to you to look at the front as well. People are watching you- its the first time jungkook has taken you with him to a race after all.

"Huh. I guess?" He wonders, tilting his head a bit. "If you take the headlights as eyes and then the bumper as a mouth.. it does kind of look like it." He admits, and you laugh. You've not been dating too long- but he already knows that your laugh is the cutest he'll ever come across in his life.

"See?" You tell him, before you take a peek at the inside. "It's so small in there though.. and What're those tubes for?" You ask.

"Its called a cage. Basically, if the car flips, the cage stays intact and as result, I do too." He jokes- but he notices you tensing up a little. "It's for safety." He says, and you nod a bit more quietly now.

"And.. all the wires there? Are they gonna cover those?" You ask, and he shakes his head.

"Nah, they stay like that. The car doesn't have to look pretty, just gotta accommodate me and keep me alive and well." He tells you- but it's clear that he's not very tactful in thinking about your emotions. He's not used to having a girl around in this setting- and it shows. "Hey- I'll be fine."

"But this is fucking dangerous, right?" You worry. "I looked up stuff online." You say, crossing your arms. "I'm not stupid." You threaten, and he moves to gently hold your cheeks.

"Baby of course you're not, never said you are." He reassures you. "But it's not my first time, I'll be fine!" He urges, and you can't help but let his big Boba ball eyes get to you. They're sparkling with the heat of his own pride right now, and he deserves to feel like that.

"..okay. sorry." You're not sure what you're apologizing for, but you still do- and he laughs, pecking your lips. Twice, because once is never enough. He doesn't care about his friends whistling in the back.

They're just trying to tease him.

"Dont worry so much. I've got experience, and my driving skills aren't half bad either!" He beams at you, and you smile. "And I've got my good-luck charm here too, so there's no way I'll lose this one." He purrs, pushing you back a little against the side of his car before he kisses you deeper than before, uncaring about looks.

"You sure I'm not distracting?" You ask, watching how he licks the piercing on his lip. "Kook you're literally staring at my tits right now, you're proving my point!" You laugh, and he grins as well.

"Nah." He shakes his head, shamelessly grabbing your ass as he walks you back behind the safety barriers. "I'd call it motivation." He responds.

"Motivation huh?" You tease, and he nods.

"To get back quick, and fetch my prize." He explains to you. "Take you out to a fancy dinner with that money I'll make."

"Maybe I'll let you have dessert in the car." You tease, and he grins.

"Deal." He grins at you, before he leaves to get ready for the dirt track race, leaving you behind with your suppressed worries.

He'll be fine.

Or at least you hope he will be.

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[princeoftheeternalbog]

Marco brainrot :( he's so kind and handsome and strong I WANT TO BITE HIM

Im sorry if hes ooc im still getting used to writing.

SFW!

Marco the phoenix x reader

You presume your downfall can be attributed to a Mr. Portagus D Ace.

You don't know what he said but considering how drunk he was last night when you caught him whispering to Marco and the way he's now avoiding you, it must've been something. And the way Marco is staring at you right now is a pretty big indicator of the topic(your big fat crush).

Seriously though, it's really distracting.

You think that if you don't acknowledge it, maybe he won't either and then everything can be normal and fine and the same.

This is what you tell yourself as you retie the same knot you've been trying to tie for the last 3 minutes, Marco's gaze burning on the back of your neck. The sweltering heat of this islands climate doesn't really help the anxiety tummy ache you have but it's not like you can go visit the ship's doctor because he's- oh right behind you apparently.

"I'm sure I taught you better than this"

And then he's right in your space, strong arms curling around you, caging you in and he hooks his head over your shoulder. He starts pulling the knot apart.

"Distracted-yoi?"

His voice is lilted, you think he's teasing you but you can barely hear what he's saying with how the blood is rushing to your head. You do a half hearted little nod as you watch his hands move, muscles and tendons flexing, you wonder how strong they are and how they would feel holding you and you really hope also that you aren't drooling.

When he's finished, he doesn't step away like you expect. Instead his hands come to rest on your waist, gentle but firm, and you feel like you're going insane.

He hums lightly behind u, tightens his grip ever so slightly and then presses a barely-there-kiss to your shoulder before moving away. By the time your brain comes back online and you turn around he's nowhere to be found on deck.

"What the fuck"

Your whispering feels very loud now that you're alone.

-

With how distracted you are, you end up getting sent to your room by one of the assistant doctors to 'cool down'. You proceed to spend the next 2 hours before dinner alternating between frantic pacing and staring at the wall.

How are you actually supposed to proceed from here? Does this mean he reciprocates your feelings? Did he just think it would be funny- no he's not like that and pops wouldn't allow someone to do that. But how the hell are you supposed to bring that up??

The chaotic stream of thoughts are interrupted by a light tap tap tap on your door.

"Heyy... can i come in"

Its Ace. He sounds scared like he's worried you might hurt him for his little slip up.

He's right. Murder is on the to-do list.

"Sure but you waive your right to safety" Your tone is bitey but not cold because even though he snitched, you did get a kiss out of it.

His sigh of relief is loud as the door swings open,

"I really thought you weren't gonna let me in after-"

"Don't remind me."

"Yep right sorry" He looks pale and you decide to give him some grace.

"...He kissed me"

"WHAT"

"DON'T BE SO LOUD"

"HOW CAN I NOT BE WHEN YOU DROP SOMETHING LIKE THAT"

"JUST STOP YELLING"

"YOU STOP YELLING"

"OKAY THEN"

"OKAY"

You look at each other. He's grinning at you and you finally let yourself feel just the giddy butterflies.

"He kissed me"

"I knew it was gonna work out"

"No you didn't"

"No I didn't"

"I don't know what to do now though"

His brow furrows, "What do you mean, he kissed you so that's like a confession right? you're like dating now"

"Well it was like- he kissed my shoulder"

"If anything that sounds more intimate, I'm not seeing the issue"

"Well he didn't say anything about it"

"So you say something"

"NO"

"DON'T SHOUT"

"I'M NOT"

"OKAY"

"But seriously what would I even say, 'oh hi, you know when you basically cradled me against you on the deck and kissed me did that like mean anything or were you just trying something different?' No way, I'll sound stupid"

His face softens and his tone is a lot more reassuring when he says, "I'm sure it did mean something"

"How can you know" Your voice wobbles and this is so embarrassing.

"Just- why don't you sit next to him now at dinner?"

"But that's your usual spot?"

"I'll move up a bit"

"No I don't want to cause you problems too- AND people will definitely point it out"

"No they won't"

"Yes they will"

"No come on just- hey slow down" You're speedwalking out of the room like you can't hear him.

-

Nobody does point it out but you still wish you weren't pressed side to side with your division commander right now.

Ace had somehow managed to distract you enough that you didn't even notice Marco was the one moving to sit by you. It had ended up with Ace in Marco's usual place, you in Ace's and Marco in yours. What's worse is that Ace is now stuffing his face, paying no mind to conversation, so you have no distraction from the heavy, warm hand that's settled on your knee.

It's so hard to eat when you feel likr you heart is about to burst out of your chest. Still you manage to choke down a fair amount, 1. because it's your favourite and 2. because if your mouth is full then you don't have to talk to Marco.

You tilt your head to look at him and lock eyes, his mouth lifts a bit at the corners and he squeezes your knee gently before turning back to whatever conversation he was having. His calm demeanor is not at all helping.

By the time you've eaten your fill, you feel like you're vibrating. You're quick to stand up from the table and rush to put your plate in the pile before practically sprinting out of the hall. You know he's watching you go but you honestly think your blood pressure is hitting a new all time high.

-

The next few days or so go pretty much the same. Marco doing something that is heart attack worthy and you running away but trying to make it seem like you're not.

In this timeframe he has; caught you bridal style after the ship rocked too harshly, given you his shirt after a wardrobe mishap on an island(not mentioning the way he covered you up with his wings to protect your privacy), licked some spare icing off the corner of your mouth- which nearly made you faint- and that's only the half of it.

Coincidentally, you are now also dealing with another problem. A new recruit seems to have taken quite a liking to you and is apparently making it their mission to bother you every spare second of the day.

-

"Goodmorning!"

"...morning"

"Ah your sweet voice is such a good mood booster...though I would like to hear it even earlier"

Their tone is- well it's attempting to be sultry and the smirk on their face tells you that was definitely an innuedo but before you can reply with something in the realm of 'thats inappropriate', a strong, stern voice cuts through the air.

"Then how about you take the second late shift tonight."

You nearly laugh.

"W-well I don't uhm- I didn't- yes sir"

Their voice is defeated as they return to their duties but you won't lie, you don't even feel a twinge of empathy because thank god you don't have to deal with that anymore.

You turn slowly, because despite the rookies comment it's still barely daylight, and you are tired.

"Thank you. I could've dealt with it though" You can't help the way you smile when you look at him god you must look so silly.

"I know"

He's grinning lazily at you, posture relaxed and open.

"But you're important to me, I can't risk losing you to someone else-yoi"

You feel a rush of butterflies in your stomach and you cant help the giggle that escapes your mouth. You cringe, slapping a hand over your mouth because you don't giggle, you're not a giggler, how are you always embarrassing yourself. His grin widens more and he steps close to you,

"Cute...but let me see your pretty face hm?"

His hand is gentle in the way it grabs your wrist and tugs but you still didn't expect the strength there so you stumble forwards slightly. He seems to use this as an opportunity and his other arm curls tight around your waist and pulls you flush.

He clicks his tongue at you,

"Careful"

He somehow pulls you even closer together, your chests are touching and his thigh is brushing the inside of your own. He's so close to your face and he's leaning in and your lips brush and-

"Commander!"

You can see the way Marco's mouth twists in displeasure and to be honest you feel just as disappointed.

You feel dazed as he steps away from you to talk to whoever had decided to interrupt. You just keep replaying the moment in your head, the way he held you like you were everything. You don't even notice his conversation is finished until a warm hand brushes your cheek.

"huh"

"Lost in thought again-yoi?"

He looks slightly less irritated now but the lines of frustration are still noticeable in his face.

"I have to go back to the med bay now"

"Okay"

You still feel hazy to be honest, the fact that he was so close is just melting your brain. But you're cognizant enough to recognise the way his face drops ever so slightly and then you make up your mind.

Before you can chicken out or throw up, your hand comes up and grips the front of Marco's shirt and you yank him towards you. He doesn't have time to react before you're sliding your mouth over his, sweet and smooth.

You pull back,

"I'll see you later then yeah?"

He looks like he's been struck dumb.

"...Yeah"

But by the time he's responded you're already bouncing off inside to continue with your chores.

-

Welp okay that's the end because im not sure where else to go with it but i hope its good. I just get so sad there's not that much Marco fics😔. If you want a part two i can see what i can think of, but if you have ideas feel free to share also! I will write nsfw but I don't know if it'll be good so fair warning :)

[thethunderbirbxd]

My reality shifting spell ingredients list and spell deep dive.

Per request on discord. I'm gonna be putting a list of the herbs that I use for my spells relating to reality shifting as well as going over the ways I perform them

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This is going to be a long post Keep that in mind and some of the grammar might be funky.

For the record I am not at all an expert witch So unfortunately I do not have the answers for everything. This is a guide of what I know so far about this spell since it's only like a year and a half old.

Before this begins, I want to preface that I recommend you do your research before adapting any of these spells. Although I call this deep dive I purposefully left out information to make it more consumable for people who are new at this and this would have been a mile long otherwise. Again, I highly recommend you do your own research so you can understand it much better than how I already put it in this post. These signs, you might figure out other things that you can put in the spells.

I also went into more detail on some parts more than others such as the herbs being more detailed than probably the rest of the post.

Good luck and hope this helps ya'll!

The Main Herbs

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• Salt

I often use salt as a base for protection. Salt is the first thing I have to put it. Any assault should do, but I often like sea salt and Himalayan salt, but table salt is perfectly fine to use. Black salt may also work in this circumstance.

• Lavender

Lavender is often used as psychic enhancer. Often helping in meditation and dream work. I use it to help reinforce the protection of the salt. It is a very common herb that often aids with dreams. It is also good for cleansing. And anxiety for when you're shifting.

• Rose Petals.

Though often used in love spells, they did have other uses. I use them to add sweetness to this spell as well As to attract self-confidence.

(just to make you feel like THAT MOTHER FUCKING BITCH when shifting)

I most of the time use dried Rose petals. But regular rose petals Should work as well.

You can write runes on them if need be or just leave them as is. As for color, it's your choice. But when I can I choose yellow as to represent travel. I've just been using what I can find, which are pink and red roses.

• Rosemary

Rosemary is also an herb that's known for its protection and dream work. But it also has heavy associations with memory. In the way I use it It's for clarity as well as keeping and ATTRACTING memories from your DRs.

(I found out that last bit the hard way)

• Mint

As for this hurb, I use it for its travel symbolism. It will promote your successful and safe travel. Though it seems its associations with money are more prevalent in the everyday. It is also known for its amazing luck and success. This earth will be very useful with inducean your Successful journey.

• Star Anise

This herb is the main bulk of the spell due to it's various abilities it has for this particular spell. It covers almost all cylinders when it comes to this spell and is known as a Spell enhancer Meaning that it heightens the strength of one spells. It promotes And creates vivid dreams Including Lucid dreams and make it easier to remember them. It can heighten your psychic abilities, clarity, and awareness. Works amazingly with Divination. It can also potentially help with connecting with others from your DRs due to its property of also being able to connect with spirit guides and other such things.(So if you do channeling this should be a major help) It also Provides a lot of protection to boot.

One full star is usually enough, but feel free to add 2 or 3 more.

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I'll be providing visual examples Down here V

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My Other Ingredients

These are the Thanks I add Regularly to this spell.

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• Two Sigil bay leaves

The first Leaf

Skip to The 2nd leaf If you don't work with any Guides Or Entities.

First ask your Ditties or guides that you think you can help with this. If they agree to help you write their sigil on the bay leaf. For example one of the gods I work with is Hecate.

(BUT I DO NOT RECOMMEND DIVING INTO DEITY WORK SO EARLY IN ONE'S PRACTICE!)

Doing deity work is in fact a lot of work. You don't have to work with anyone for this spell.

If you don't already work with any Deities or guides you can just go with the second option which is....

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The Second Leaf

For the second bay leaf I write the Shifting symbol on one side and on the other I write.

"I am (Insert DRself Name) and I have shifted to (Insert DR)."

For example...

"I am Vesper Córvido and I have shifted to My hero academia."

After I set up both leaves amd I burn both In a pot, bowl, or bucket To activate them.. It is fine if there are remaining Bits of leaves and I'll explain why later. You can also substitute the bay leaves for paper or rose petals.

(Be safe around fire there are other ways to activate them!) Such as...

Breathing on them.

Speaking intention over them

Anointing oil on them

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• Boosting oil

This is optional and you can substitute it for a other things.

I made my own boosting oil that I use with every spell. If you do decide to make it just know that it's a lengthy process. The ingredients for this is.

• Vegetable oil-(But any cooking oil should be fine)

• Lavender

• Coffee grounds

• Mint

And I had it ferment for a month, so all the things would be infused into the oil, and I filtered it out later.

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Ways one can perform the spell

You can potentially do this spell in any way that you can easily do so. The three of these techniques here I did myself Before you do any of these however be sure to protect within your home and around the space that you're making this spell, as well as cleanse your tools and ingredients. There are millions of ways of cleansing that you can look up. I often use incents.

Also, for all of these, I recommend putting on subliminals and/or saying affirmations while performing these.

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• Candle spell

For candle spells, I recommend the following colors...

•Purple - Wisdom & Psychic Gifts +

•Yellow - Travel & Joy +

•White - Purity & Unity + (Because white is also made up of all colors, it can be used interchangeably for any candle you need)

•Black - Protection & Removing negativity +

•Blue - Communication and intuition +

Before you do anything with the candle You can crush up the herbs To prepare for the next steps.

After obtaining your candle (I recommend candlesticks, but T lights or container candles should work), you can carve any sigils, affirmations, or the shifting symbol Into the candle.

After that anoint Your candle with oil and cover it with the herbs Then slightly melt the bottom and stick it to a plate or anything that you're containing this in I'd recommend a plate that you think can withstand heat or Cookie pan. After planting it within the center circle it with salt. I usually contain it within a pentacle.

Then use any leftover herbs that you used to cover the candle and spread it about the circle as well as within it. At the base of the candle sit down the baileys or note. It is optional to have the the leaves burned or not burned beforehand.

After that Light the candle with intention And let it burn. For me during the process of burning I'd like to see how the flame and candle react during the process as a form of divination and possible messages I can use. You never know what you can you just gotta know where to look.

When The candle is done burning You can look around the dish and use divination to see if there's any signs for your journeys or any repeating symbols.

As for disposal you can Contain the herbs for later use or return both the wax Add herbs to nature. But if you're not sure if the wax is plastic based you can contain it for later use.

My notes

1st thing to mention with this It's to be safe around fire. 1st time I did this it went insane and cracked it's candle holder in half. As for results I got a major memory And accidentally went into the void state with that. They'll be story times about both of these at a later date.

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• Spell jars

The perks of having a spell jar are having a physical object to carry around with you and meditate on.

You'll need some type of food container like a bottle or in most cases a jar There are places online to get them for cheap or you can go to Craft stores. After cleansing it You can put all your herbs in it. Personally I'd like Lairing them like...

•Salt

•Lavender

•Rose Petals

•Rosemary

•Mint

•Star Anise

Then, take your activated bay leaves or paper and crumple/fold it up It in the jar. And it's at this point that I would put drops of my boosting oil into it. As for the next step Make sure the jar is properly sealed. Then take a candle of your Choosing and light the candle melt the wax unto the jar make sure it's sealed tight.

My notes

Very useful For when you're on a road trip and you're trying to hide it. During Spring vacation A while back I did the julia with this in my hand. My body proceeded to fist like a soda but Before anything else can happen my little brother woke me up.

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• Charm bag

Much more beginner friendly and is much less fire intensive With Bay leaves. You can refresh this spell when you need without having to dispose of everything. I You can put items in such as crystals and jewelry that you Want to charm for shifting. For example I put A large clear quartz that looked like it had a lightning Bolt in it.

Take a string pouch. You can also get these online or craft stores. After cleansing it, just pour in each herb, but you can also grind them before this. Then, put your bay leaves or paper into the pouch along with your items that you want to charm. You can meditate over it to activate it. You can also shake it around and mix all the herbs together within the bag.

My notes

This one had the Quickest results the first time I made it. I made it off of a whim I had put in extra star anise Crushing up one and put it in two hole ones and I had only gotten that crystal that day. I had set the bag next to me that night. The result was that very same night Me getting a memory from my DR in a dream And it was the most vivid vision I had ever seen. In fact this is the Koji Kode of memory I was talking about before in one of my last posts.

I'll be linking it here When I posted!

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If you made it this far Thank you so much for reading and I hope this helps you! If you do decide to do this spell commit your results or put it in the asks. That memory post will be coming soon! Good luck shifting!

blessed be<3

[dungeonbent]

more than you can chew

"So you want us to take you to the bottom of the dungeon..." Laios muses, nursing the overly sweetened ale that you've just bought a round of.

At first, your impression of the man had been somewhat less than stellar. The easy-going air he has about him, coupled with the enthusiastic way he asked about your home in the western capitol and his overly friendly demeanor, made you slightly wary. But now that business talk has started, he seems to be giving it serious thought.

Laios asks, "Could I maybe get a timeframe on that?"

You say, "I was hoping to enter within the month." You don't have much more time than that. Your name is Kanaya Maryam, and you think things might just work out.

Then Laios Touden says, "Yeah, uh. I think we'll have to turn you down on this one?"

He smiles apologetically, as if he hasn't just dashed your heart straight onto the rocks. You stare at him in shock, letting the ambient noise of the tavern and its festival-going patronage fill the silence between you as you struggle to grasp onto what could have possibly gone wrong.

You start to say, "If it's about the money, I can always-"

"Ah- it's really not about the money, I promise!" Laios says, holding his hands up. "It's just... okay, how do I put this..."

You allow some time for the tallman to articulate his response, hands tightening around your own mug. You don't even like to drink. But within the Festival of Lost Hearts, there seems to be some invisible decree that states all of those who so much as step out into the sun ought to have some syrupy alcoholic bullshit liable to destroy more relationships than just that of the body and its liver.

Laios doesn't get to formulate his full response, because his companion takes a pause from downing some of that alcoholic bullshit to cut in with a dry, "Yeah, what you're describing just isn't logistically reasonable."

"How so?" You ask, peeved. You think you've laid out the relevant points quite succinctly, actually. You even provided flow charts! No one can deny you when you have pictures! You are sure there is a law somewhere that says this.

The half-foot- Chilchuck, you think- leans forward, looking entirely unimpressed. "You want us to take you to the bottom of the dungeon on, and I quote, a 'research mission-slash-treasure hunt-slash-general dungeon things', trip. Do you have any idea how vague that all is?"

"That's what this diagram is for," You say, starting to rifle through your papers, "I really have it all well divvied out-"

"And you're basing this off a book?" Chilchuck presses, leaning up to plant an elbow on the table and stare you down. "What makes you think it's even accurate, exactly?"

"I'll have you know that it's written by a very reputable source," You say, trying to keep your hackles from rising. "You can check with all the scholars- R.L. Theras really did disappear in Skaia dungeon--"

"Yeah," Chilchuck interrupts, "and some guy took the real story of some missing adventurers and decided to make a quick buck."

You scoff. Theras's writing style is far too lyrical to be merely any charlatan off the street. "To say such a thing sounds to me like a lack of experience. Perhaps you should live a few more years before making that assertion?"

Chilchuck scowls, the ale sloshing in his skein as he gestures with it, "I am plenty fucking experienced-!"

"Whoa, whoa, hey," Laios cuts in, putting a large hand on Chilchuck's narrow shoulder. Chilchuck turns a glare towards him as he says, "Chilchuck here's one of the best lockpicks you're gonna get. He's more than experienced." That seems to mollify the smaller man somewhat, though not for long, as Laios continues, "That being said, assuming that the book is real-"

"- are you trying to get scammed again?" Chilchuck hisses, but you elect to ignore him since you... suppose it might make sense why this would seem like a scam, to someone who thought R. L. Theras's work to be fiction.

Laios glances at Chilchuck and Chilchuck appears to back down, sinking back into his seat with a grumble. Laios continues, "Assuming that the book is real, you're not giving us much time to prepare, and no clear goal to actually prepare for. It's like... just asking us to bring a bunch of rations down and survive, and nothing else."

"Is that a bad thing?" You ask.

Laios and Chilchuck both look at each other. You do not appreciate whatever secret message they appear to be communicating to each other with their eyes. You wish you had any kind of mental magic to take a peek into what it could be. Or any magic at all.

"Say, Kanaya," Laios says, "have you ever actually... been to a dungeon?"

"Not before yesterday." You say honestly, "But I've been reading about them."

"Okay, so. The big thing about making a trip into a dungeon successful is having a clear plan on how long you're in the dungeon, and how you're going to get out. How long did it take R. L. to get to the bottom?"

Is this a pop quiz now? Somewhat confused, you answer, "Two months."

"And their only goal was to reach the bottom of the dungeon," Laios says, "No layovers for extra research and no extra treasure hunting. So how long do you think it'll take to reach the bottom if you have all that other stuff to do on top of it?"

You start to deflate. "... Longer."

"And getting back?"

"Does your sister not have a teleportation spell...?"

"If she can't use it for whatever reason, I mean."

You feel like sinking into the floor. "Even longer."

"There you go," Chilchuck says, raising his glass. "What you're asking for assumes that nothing's going to happen and that nothing will go wrong. In the dungeon where everything goes wrong constantly. That's a death wish."

You're starting to feel rather foolish, and rather desperate. You know you haven't been entirely forthcoming about the true nature of your desired trip into the dungeon, but even still...

"What if," You ask, despite yourself, "it was to... save someone?"

This catches Laios's attention. He asks, gently, "Save who...?"

"I don't know." And that's the truth.

Chilchuck heaves a sigh and says, "Well, that'd need even more planning- unless you know the exact place their corpse is- and who the corpse even is- you could be canvasing those floors for weeks..."

"What if they're alive?" You ask.

Chilchuck clicks his tongue. "Yeah. That's... kind of doubtful." He pauses, then sets his mug aside. "Sorry. We really wouldn't be able to help you with that."

You all lapse back into silence and you stare at your plans, trying to figure out how you can still salvage this. Porrim gave you six months to find what you've come for in Skaia's dungeon, and you know that if you don't leave in time, the Canaries may well follow. The Touden party are the most qualified party you've spoken to today. If they think this is an impossible task...

"Hey," Laios says, "wanna get something to eat? My treat!"

"Oh, no," You start, "I couldn't possibly-"

"You may as well eat something- it's not like there's anything else to do at a party," Chilchuck says, starting to flag down someone carrying two large trays of bowls, weaving through the throng of unruly patrons.

You have no recourse to deny the men their meager offer of comfort. You're still slightly bitter at having been shut down so soundly, but the stew that's served is warming. It is a dish the locals call 'bukenade', bowl filled with tender pieces of goat meat falling apart under the slightest pressure of a spoon into a savory, fragrant broth which seemed tinged with just the barest hint of sweetness from verjus.

It's only somewhat into the meal, after you start to feel a bit better, when Chilchuck clears his throat and offers, "You talk to Vans yet?"

"Hm?" You hum through a mouthful of food, covering your mouth as you're caught mid-chew like a startled animal.

"For your job." Chilchuck adds.

You swallow and shake your head. Though the name does sound somewhat familiar for some reason... "I don't know who that is."

"So there's this guy," Chilchuck says, and you nod, because you did assume it was some kind of guy. "His name's Karkat Vans. He and his lockpick buddy have a party together. Can't say I see eye to eye with him on everything, but... kid's good at what he does. He gets people to listen to him." Chilchuck leans back, "If he can do that, he might be able to help you out."

There's a glimmer of hope that strikes you when you hear that. You look at Chilchuck and say, "I'll have to do that. Thank you, Chilchuck... sir." Gods, you sound so awkward. You hope he doesn't say anything.

Chilchuck doesn't say anything, but he does roll his eyes a little. "Yeah, yeah. Don't mention it."

[highhhfiveee]

Are you gonna finish your pornstar!mikeschmidt x Reader because I want reader to cuss him out and just shout how they feel 😔😔

(Totallly ok if ur not gonna finish it though it was so good anyways >_<)

yes!!! i've actually been on here today writing more [: we're halfway there officially and at 5806 words lmao. sorry to be taking soooooo long on this part, but here's a little [unedited] something to tide you over [hopefully!]:

a peek into safety net, part five

"fair point, i suppose. still, it wouldn't hurt to have a conversation, no matter how difficult. from what you've told me, mike seems to have a good head on his shoulders. he sounds generous, caring, gentle and though nowhere near perfect, of course, you've painted a picture to me that he's tried hard to cultivate a safe space for you. it's a safety net, your own personal nirvana."

dr. kelley's imagery has you transported; you find yourself in the sky, its deep, intentional brushstrokes of pink and orange surrounding you in an endless landscape. a bungee net stretches with moderate tension in four directions, leaving you in the slouchy center. a cool breeze crosses your face as you search around for mike, yelling his name into what seemed to you like a void.

"I understand that your trauma and experiences makes it a bit harder to acclimate and feel entitled to that kind of treatment. that is fair and fine, but what's not is refusing to communicate that to mike. you can talk to me about it all day, rack up on your invoice by all means, but it does nothing if you don't put in the work."

"but I did put in the work! from my anniversary to now!"

"how many days is that?"

"...five," dr. kelley sighs, fatigued by your green nature. she rarely took in clients your age, half her own and like toddlers exploring a brand new world, but something about your fervor had spoken to her. she saw that you weren't one to back down, and after a few sessions, she knew she'd been right.

yet, she was wise enough to know that stubbornness was both a blessing and a curse, and here in this moment, it was the curse that saw you from seeing the truth. "we've talked about self sabotage before. when you first told me of your relationship with mike, how it made you feel, i pointed it out instantly. if you're telling me that you've overcome every feeling you've told me about in five days, i might as well give you my credentials cause you're a better therapist than me, apparently."

very excited to write this last half [: it's very immersive so I can't wait [: see you all soon!

ALSO HAPPY FUCKING PRIDE! I LOVE YOU ALL, YOU’RE SO VALID AND LOVED AND WORTHY! QUEER FOLK 🔛🔝

[welcometothejianghu]

Welcome to another round of W2 Tells You What You Should See, where W2 (me) tries to sell you (you) on something you should be watching. Today's choice: 天国と地獄 ~サイコな2人～/ Tengoku to Jigoku: Psychona Futari / Heaven and Hell: Soul Exchange.

Heaven and Hell: Soul Exchange is a 2021 Japanese drama about a headstrong cop, the shady CEO she suspects of being a serial killer, and what happens when they magically switch bodies.

With a premise like that, there are basically two tonal choices: You can make it a wacky comedy, or you can get real fucked-up and dark about it. This 10-episode series somehow manages the secret third thing of splitting the difference, so it's got a lot of deliciously fucked-up stuff in the setup, but it never quite has the courage of its convictions to go all the way. What that gets you is the kind of frustrating that you can't stop thinking about afterward, both for what it did and what it didn't have the guts to do.

So! If you're interested in a story that's compelling and occasionally very funny, with just enough unrealized potential that your brain keeps batting it around like a kitten with a squeaky toy at 4AM, I have five reasons that you might want to give this one a shot.

1. Half-Trans: Full Trans Consequences

We're gonna hit this one right off the bat: This is a story where a girl and boy trade bodies, so you know it's got the genders.

Mochizuki Ayako is the only female cop in her department. She's headstrong, kind of obnoxious, a slob, and not particularly feminine -- so of course the dude cops hate her. In the process of investigating a serial murder, she comes across Hidaka Haruto, who's got that kind of smug sinister aura of a smart man who's clearly hiding some shit, though all his underlings love him. When they unexpectedly bodyswap with no idea how to switch back, they're forced to keep one another's lies going so they don't both wind up in jail, except she's still trying to catch him and he's still trying to get away with it.

They work a very good contrast with the difference in their respective attachments to their genders. Despite her hardass demeanor and her lack of super-femme presentation, Mochizuki is without question a woman. She's deeply uncomfortable in a male body, and when someone calls her a man, her instinct is to deny it. Having to deal with a borrowed penis nearly gives her a meltdown.

Hidaka, on the other hand, is a fruity little guy whose first response to finding himself inside a woman's body is to get all girly and take it for a test drive. It's less that he's transfeminine and more that he just really doesn't seem all that attached to any gender. He's got boobs now, and boobs are what he's going to make work for him. Regardless of his sexuality -- and the show does leave that one a big row of question marks -- his gender is gay.

There's also some fairly solid bodyswap acting! ...kinda. Both actors have unfortunately different interpretations of Mochizuki's character. If you're being charitable, it's true she's freaking out and having some kind of gender dysphoria the entire time she's in boy mode, which could explain why she's much softer and girlier when she's being played by the male actor, Takahashi Issei. If you're more inclined to nitpick, well, you're not wrong that the performances don't line up. That said, the actors both do a great job of switching characters, so it's pretty clear when they're being different people (even if it's not necessarily the same different person).

Now, you should by no means assume this show is some conscious exploration of genderqueer existence in contemporary Japan. It is, however, way more thoughtful than I expected it to be. It leaves some very interesting silences, especially around what exactly Hidaka's taste in partners is and why Mochizuki's own body kinda gives her a lesbian awakening when someone else is in there. If you're the type who likes a trans-flavored imagination adventure, this is a spectacular starting point. You're going to have a blast.

2. The Mochizuki Support Squad

Nobody from Hidaka's side realizes what's going on with the swap; sure, the boss is acting weird, but they buy his explanations for it. Mochizuki, however, has exactly two people in the world who care so much about her that they figure out what's happened: her junior cop partner, Yamaki Hideo, and her roommate, Watanabe Riku.

You have to love a character where their closest friends are like, either you've started suddenly acting polite and nice, or you've mystically swapped bodies with another person, and honestly, the bodyswap is the more likely explanation.

This is one of those places where the show takes the goofier and more lighthearted tack. Leaving it so the only people who knew about the swap were Mochizuki and Hidaka themselves would be incredibly isolating and paranoia-inducing, especially for Mochizuki. Giving her (eventually) two buddies who know what's going on both gives her a cushion of support for her ordeal and creates a number of comic moments where these guys are looking at a stranger and seeing their friend -- and vice versa.

They're both kind of daffy sweethearts, too, which adds even more comic relief to the show. Yamaki is an easily flustered, mildly hysterical nerd who just wants his mean bestie back so she can go back to telling him what to do. Riku is a blue-collar himbo who would technically be a hobosexual except for how he both really does pull his weight around the house and (probably) isn't getting laid. They're willing to put themselves on the line and do what they can to make sure their friend is okay, no matter what body she's in.

I actually like how the show has more than couple male-female dynamics where the people involved are just friends -- or, if things change so they're not, it's strongly implied that they could have gone on being just friends and that would have been fine or even better for both parties involved. Romance is not the endgame of every mixed-genital relationship! Sometimes people who love one another dearly are friends without further obligation! You can care for people a lot without wanting to fuck them! And that's great.

Besides, I know it won't shock you to learn that the real horny part of the show plays out as...

3. An interesting game of cat and mouse

Mochizuki's got an interesting problem: She's a cop inside the body of a murderer, and as long as she's stuck here, there's a murderer inside the body of a cop out on the loose. She could, as Hidaka, confess to the murders and in a way that puts him physically in jail, but she doesn't know how to swap their bodies back. She's got to keep Hidaka appeased, or he, in her official capacity, might arrest her and just keep her body forever while she goes down for the crime. She could find a way to take them both down, but that would ruin her life too and is an absolute last resort. She could just let him go and cover up the crimes, but her sense of justice won't allow it.

While Hidaka ... well, Hidaka's got a lot going on. I'm not even going to get into Hidaka's whole deal, because it's related to some late-series spoilers. The simple version is that he's got to be pretending to catch himself while actually trying to destroy evidence about the murders, all while having to dig into gendered expectations to play a version of Mochizuki capable of ingratiating herself with her asshole coworkers instead of alienating them.

And yeah, it's pretty darn horny.

It's one of those delicious enemies-to-allies-to-grudging-friends setups where you've got two people at cross purposes who have to play nice with one another (while still being very mean to one another), and in that process they find things about the other person that are actually worth liking. Because this is a literal life-and-death situation, emotions are running high! Wanting to kill someone and wanting to save them are not mutually exclusive states.

The show makes a great decision not to have Mochizuki and Hidaka hook up, or even to acknowledge that their bond has any erotic component beyond whatever's inherent in borrowing someone else's genitals. This means that their dynamic is very intimate and physical without being textually sexual, which actually winds up making it way more sexual than it would have been otherwise. It's like horror, where what you don't see is almost always scarier than what you do -- with sexual tension, especially across ostensibly heterosexual pairs, subversion and longing are almost always much sexier than having things brought to completion onscreen. I mean, seriously, think of the number of things you've seen where there's pining, and pining, and more pining, and you ship it hard, and then they finally get together and it's a giant disappointment. Better to be left hungry for more of this almost-t4t goodness.

There's also an incredible amount of lapel-grabbing and kabedon-delivering here, so if you're in to that, itadakimasu!

4. A Cop Are Bastard

There are a number of antagonists in this story -- I mean, not shocking, considering both the premise and the way the serial murder case at the heart of the story gets weirdly complicated. The most prominent and persistent of those antagonists, though, is not a serial murderer, but one of the cops.

The character's name is Kawahara Mitsuo, but Mochizuki and Yamaki call him "Seku-Hara," as those are the first two syllables of each word in "sexual harassment." It's fitting. He's sleazy, arrogant, and an entire bag of dicks who talks like a gangster and is willing to do a lot of backhanded dirty-cop shit to get his way.

All this lands him firmly in the Love To Hate category. If you enjoy throwing popcorn at onscreen villains, pop some extra for Kawahara, because that fucker deserves it.

Maybe the most interesting thing about him is how often he's actually right. When he's not being an asshole who's doing bad cop work, he actually does good cop work, and he comes to some pretty astute conclusions about what exactly is going on with the case. Despite Mochizuki and Hidaka's joint interference, he figures out a lot of what's the two of them are up to, even without ever picking up on the bodyswap angle. So he's not just a slimy buffoon -- he's actually a formidable opponent.

Also, did I mention he's hot in a gross way? I dunno, maybe it helps that I've seen Kitamura Kazuki be hot in a not-gross way in other things, like Nekozamurai, where he plays a handsome and noble samurai sworn to protect a very cute kitty. Here, though, he's not noble at all -- he's a thug of a cop with a cocky swagger and a deep voice, and I am not above admitting that I see the appeal.

Like, fuck, I'm not usually into eyebrows, and I'm into his eyebrows. Those are some good eyebrows.

5. argh it's almost so good (but still pretty good!)

I'm about to be slightly spoilery from this point forward, not about specific plot points, but about general narrative moves. If you'd prefer to remain unspoiled for such things, stop reading right now and go to either Viki or Netflix to watch the whole show. You're welcome.

Still here? Great. See, where this show really lacks the courage of its convictions is with Hidaka's character. He starts off the series really evil! He does some very bad things! He's clearly quite sinister. Then about halfway through, the show starts to backpedal real hard and introduces another factor into the murder cases that makes him a much less outright bad guy than he seems at first blush.

...And that sucks! Because as the show first portrays him, he's deliciously kind of a fucker. He's not only confident and threatening, he's happy to take Mochizuki's body and do whatever he wants with it, regardless of her feelings. He reads as a straight-up two-faced psychopath who just wants to keep on ridding the world of bad people by straight-up grotesquely murdering them. But the show doesn't have the guts to either take him down in a blaze of glory or create a redemption arc for a guy who's got a taste for some pretty gnarly body horror, so it's got to find a way to convince you not to believe your lying eyes.

However! I do not consider this a dealbreaker, because I find what the show does wind up doing actually pretty interesting. Just because it's not the ending to the story I, personally, would have told doesn't mean it's not a story worth telling. It's maybe a little artificially convoluted, but you've already suspended your disbelief for the bodyswap thing, right? So just roll with the rest of it.

At the risk of belaboring the duality metaphor, I really do feel like this is a show constantly being pulled in two different directions at once. It seems like half the show loves to roll around in the blood and perversion of vigilante serial murder, while the other half wishes it'd picked a more innocuous crime, like art theft or securities fraud. Half of it wants Hidaka to be a right cold bastard who deals Mochizuki a lot of serious damage, and the other half wants to keep him always on the side of the line where he never does anything unredeemable. Half of it wants this to be a sexy queer exploration of gendered expectations through suddenly different bodies, and the other half wants to play a straight PG-13 bodyswap comedy. Half of it wants to be Hannibal, and the other half wants to be Freaky Friday.

And where it all lands is ... well, in the middle.

Obviously my general disappointment with the show's eventual final form has not left me heartbroken. To the contrary, I've had a lot of fun thinking about it afterward, both pondering what was actually on the screen and having imagination adventures about how I would have done it differently. That, to me, is fun. I enjoy this. Like the Maxx said, the shows in my mind are almost always better.

I might have been a little more put off by the lack of my ideal resolution if the show had required more of a commitment from me, but no, it gets things done in ten one-hour episodes, which makes it a great small-medium bite. You can knock this one out pretty quickly, and then have all the time in the world left for thinking about how things could have been different if the show had not taken the Goldilocks approach to its queer serial murder bodyswap setup. The Hump of Compelling Mediocrity strikes again!

Up for a watch?

As I mentioned earlier, both Viki and Netflix have this one!

No joke, I hope people read this, get enticed by the horny potential of it, watch the show, go a little feral for what fits into those silences I mentioned, and write some dang sexy fanfic for me to enjoy. There's only one piece of anything on AO3 about it! One! One is not a sufficient number of things! Especially not with this promising of a setup. Come on, fellow perverts. We can do better.

Aw, look, they're so cute when they get to be themselves.

[mrplantfr]

Adam x loyal reader

I've never done this sorta thing so its definitely gonna be trash lmao

Warning!// major nsfw, swearing, religion. Minors, DNI

Adam and you were always together all day, and always talked about eachother. And, when you two got married, things just got more and more worse. By that, I mean obsession over eachother. Wearing eachother's clothes, using same products, always spooning when sleeping, per names, etc. Yk, the usual. Part of it was because he didn't want to loose you like his last wives.

One morning, your husband woke you up at the ass crack of dawn like a child on Christmas. He was estatic saying "Babe, c'mon! Wake up! Get up right now, please!". All you could do was groan and half assedly try to get up.

When you were finally awake completely, (sort of) you asked "Why are you even waking me up at four in the morning?" "Well," he responded "lucifer doesn't know i have a wife again, so I was thinking we could go to a meeting to show off I have a hot wife and he's rotting in hell! Doesn't that sound fun!?" No, it wasn't going to be, but he was so insecure and he looked so happy, you just had to.

As you were walking there, he was gushing saying how happy and excited he was to shove it in that he was married to a hottie and he couldn't steal you. But you were pretty concerned. You knew he was going to try and pull the same stuff as lillith and eve, but you knew it wouldn't work. But, you knew it would hurt your partner, wich hurt to think about. Of course, you held his arm the whole time.

When you arrived, you sat on Adam's lap instead of a chair, to make things clear. (And his dad bod made it really comfortable). "Jeez, its been half an hour, he should be here by now." you mentioned. "Don't worry your sexy little head off, it's gonna be worth it." He said in a villainous type of tone. All the sudden, BAM, the door flew open and lucifer stormed in. And then he noticedyou. "So, whos the lady? Rawrrr~" lucifer asked Adam. "My wife" he said smugly. "Oh, well," he leaned towards you "is this fatso really satisfying you, or is it pity?". Adam's giddy grin turned to an upset frown immediately. "YES I DO" he screamed, slaming hand on the table. "I asked her, not you." He said smugly. "So, be honest: what pain does he put you through in the sack?"

You immediately got up, "He is far better than you. You might think you can steal me like those two other tasteless home wrecking assholes, but not me, I have dignity in who I marry. Get your sorry ass away from me and my husband, with your lonely divorced ass who gave your daughter daddy issues." You pointed to the door, as he was taken aback. Adam was stunned, yet also thought it was hot not gonna lie.

Lucifer quickly stepped out, while you sat back on Adam's lap satisfied with what you had done. Adam stayed silent, but not for long. "Babe, that was- FUCKING HOT." He was hard as a rock, and you noticed. "I can tell, but, I love you. I wouldn't leave you for that twig." you said reassuringly, stroking his hair with your hands. A quick peck on the cheek from you and he carried you bridal style home, lovestruck. And when you got there, he was sure to fuck you shamelessly.

He threw you on the bed and ripped your pants off immediately. He didn't have time to take his robe off though, he just rolled it up and started thrusting. Your back was bouncing up and down off the mattress, making LOUD creaking sounds, and it was delightful. "A-adam~ fuck, ngh~" you moaned. "Scream for me, bitch." And you complied. "Fuck- THATS SO HOT" you screamed. with a load tone. He eventually took his cock out, and you were creaming like a mad man. "P-please~" you begged him to not stop, but then he, without warning, shoved two of his massive claws in your clit. "FUCK, BABE" you screamed in pleasure, surprisingly, the claws didn't hurt, or the pleasure was covering it up. He was happy with the screamed you made, music to his ears. "You're gonna love giving me head later, huh?" He said. "Y-yes, babe-" all the sudden, he stopped that too. You were upset, but let out a loud sigh, when all the sudden, he pulled you by your collar on your shirt. "You gonna show me what you're capable of, sweetie~?", he asked flirtingly. "Y-yes, anything for you."

"Good~" he said. Then you pulled your head down between his legs and put his tip in your mouth. You swirling your tongue around it made him groan. "F-fuck, babe-" he said under his breath, he was tired, but not too tired to get head at least. Then you started bobbing your head, slowly but damn, it felt good. He was making indescribable noises, but he was enjoying every moment.

Eventually, you two were too tired to continue, so you put your clothes back on and went to bed. "Good night, hot stuff." He said, before passing out. "Night, babe" you said as you kissed his forehead and went to bed aswell, holding eachother in a warm embrace.

WOW, that was a weird first fanfic, but I liked it. Tell me what you guys think and please don't bully me TVT