#it was payment for services rendered | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

carnalcrows · 5 months ago

Text

BABYSITTER - THE SALESMAN

pairing: the salesman x male reader

synopsis: When a broke college student takes a babysitting gig, he signs up for snack time and bedtime stories—but ends up with bloodstains, cryptic employers, and an unsettling crush on the kid’s disturbingly hot dad.

content warnings: 18+, bottom male reader, blackmailing, blood, anal, breeding, creampie, missionary, mating press, dubcon, mentions of kidnapping, too much plot

word count: 5.2k (good lord)

It was a typical Wednesday afternoon when you found yourself perched in the corner of the campus café, a half-empty cup of cold coffee sweating onto the table beside your laptop. Bills, tuition, and the general weight of adulthood had a way of pressing down on your shoulders, leaving you in a constant state of mild panic. You scrolled through job listings with the desperation of someone clinging to a lifeboat.

Barista? You had already been rejected twice due to your “lack of experience.”

Retail? They wanted you available on weekends, which wasn’t feasible with your study schedule.

Dog walker? Allergic to fur.

The list grew more depressing as the minutes ticked by, until one particular post caught your attention:

"Babysitter needed. Flexible hours. Payment upon services rendered. Serious applicants only."

There was no company name, no attached image of a smiling family, not even a hint about the age of the child you’d be babysitting. The simplicity of it screamed sketchy, but the promise of payment dangled in front of you like a carrot on a stick.

“Desperate times,” you muttered, clicking on the post.

The application form was equally bare-bones, asking only for your name, availability, and a short paragraph about why you wanted the job. You quickly typed something generic about being responsible and good with kids, then hit send without much hope.

To your surprise, you received a reply almost immediately.

"You’re hired. Start tomorrow at 3 PM. Address: [Redacted]."

You stared at the screen, bewildered. No interview? No background check? Either this was the world’s most desperate parent, or you were walking into a scam. A friend texted you moments later, asking if you’d found a job yet, and you decided to leave out the details when you replied,

"Yep, starting tomorrow."

The afternoon sun was scorching as you made your way up the steps of the quaint suburban house. The place had a sort of storybook charm—a neat lawn, pastel shutters, and a small porch swing swaying lazily in the breeze. If it weren’t for the suspiciously vague job listing you’d answered, you might have thought you were walking into a feel-good rom-com instead of a potentially shady situation.

You knocked on the door and waited. Seconds ticked by. You shifted awkwardly, glancing over your shoulder as if expecting hidden cameras. But just as you were about to knock again, the door flew open with surprising force, revealing a little girl standing barely taller than the doorknob.

“Hi!” she exclaimed, her voice so cheerful it nearly gave you whiplash. “Are you the babysitter?”

“Uh… yeah,” you replied, startled by the sheer intensity of her enthusiasm. “That’s me.”

“I’m Su-an,” she said proudly, puffing out her chest. “Come in! I was just having a meeting with my council!”

Before you could even ask what she meant, she grabbed your hand and tugged you inside. The house was warm and cozy, if a little cluttered, with toys scattered across the floor and crayon drawings taped haphazardly on the walls.

---

“This is Mr. Snuggles,” Su-an announced, holding up a ragged teddy bear with one ear chewed off. “He’s the president of my council.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, nodding solemnly. “And what does the council do?”

“Important stuff,” she said, narrowing her eyes like she was letting you in on a state secret. “Like deciding who gets cookies after dinner. Also, they voted to make you the assistant.”

You blinked. “I don’t remember running for office.”

“Well, you didn’t,” she said matter-of-factly. “But Mr. Snuggles said you looked like you’d be good at it.”

Before you could protest, she shoved the bear into your hands and pointed to a tiny table covered in a chaotic mix of crayons, plastic teacups, and a single half-eaten cookie.

“Sit,” she ordered. “The council meeting is starting!”

---

The rest of the afternoon unfolded in a whirlwind of nonsensical games and increasingly bizarre “council decisions.” At one point, you were ordered to wear a paper crown (which barely fit) and were dubbed the “Official Snack Prince.” Your royal duties included distributing Goldfish crackers and ensuring everyone—stuffed animals included—got an equal share.

“You’re actually pretty good at this,” Su-an said, eyeing you critically as you handed Sir Fluffington his crackers. “Better than my last babysitter.”

“Oh?” you asked, curious. “What happened to them?”

“They couldn’t handle the council,” she said gravely.

---

After the meeting adjourned, Su-an decided it was time to “train” you in the art of hide-and-seek. You played along, even though she kept hiding in the same spot: under the dining table, her giggles giving her away every single time.

“Found you again!” you said, crouching down to peer under the table.

She gasped, genuinely shocked. “How are you so good at this?!”

“It’s a gift,” you deadpanned, earning another round of giggles.

---

When hide-and-seek got old, she declared it was “dance party time.” She dragged you to the living room, where she plugged in her favorite playlist on an ancient speaker. The first song was a pop hit you vaguely recognized, and before you could even protest, she was already twirling around like a whirlwind.

“Come on!” she yelled over the music.

“I don’t dance,” you started, but she shot you a look so devastatingly adorable that you had no choice but to join in.

What followed was ten minutes of the most ridiculous dancing of your life. Su-an moved like she was powered by pure chaos, flailing her arms and jumping around, while you attempted something resembling the robot. She laughed so hard she tripped over her own feet, and you had to catch her before she face-planted into the couch.

---

As the day wore on, you found yourself genuinely enjoying her company. She was smart, funny, and had the kind of boundless energy that made you wonder if kids ran on caffeine instead of juice boxes.

By the time bedtime rolled around, you were exhausted. Getting her into pajamas was an ordeal—she insisted she couldn’t sleep without her “lucky socks,” which turned out to be mismatched and buried at the bottom of her toy chest. When you finally tucked her in, she stared up at you with wide, sleepy eyes.

“Will you come back tomorrow?” she asked, clutching Mr. Snuggles to her chest.

“Yeah,” you said, smiling. “I’ll be here.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

---

As you made your way back downstairs, you felt a surprising sense of accomplishment. Babysitting wasn’t what you’d imagined yourself doing, but something about Su-an’s infectious energy and genuine joy made it worth it.

You tidied up the living room, stepping over plastic dinosaurs and rogue crayons, and couldn’t help but laugh to yourself. If every day was going to be like this, maybe this job wouldn’t be so bad after all.

---

And so, your days with Su-an became a routine. Every afternoon, she greeted you at the door like an excited puppy, launching into a new scheme or game. One day, she decided you were a dragon and she was a brave knight. The next, you were her art teacher, helping her draw increasingly absurd animals like “dog-o-sauruses” and “cat-icorns.”

One particularly memorable day, she tried to teach you how to braid her hair. It did not go well.

“Why are there so many strands?!” you groaned, your fingers tangled in her hair.

“It’s easy!” she said, giggling. “You just go over, under, over, under!”

“You sound like a cryptic math teacher,” you muttered, earning another round of giggles.

---

The days passed in a blur of laughter and chaos, and soon, you found yourself looking forward to your afternoons with Su-an. She made you forget about your stress, your bills, and your endless to-do list.

Still, a question lingered in the back of your mind: where was her dad during all of this? But for now, you were content to let the mystery be. After all, it was hard to worry about much when you had a six-year-old demanding you be her “Royal Snack Advisor.”

It was one of those rare evenings when the air felt just right—not too cold, not too warm, with a soft breeze that carried the faint smell of grass and distant barbecues. Su-an had begged to go to the park after dinner, and you’d caved, eager to get some fresh air and give her a chance to burn off her endless energy.

“Push me higher!” Su-an squealed as she swung back and forth, her legs pumping excitedly. You stood behind her, laughing as you gave the swing a gentle push.

“Higher, huh? What are you trying to do, touch the clouds?”

“Maybe!” she shouted, giggling as the swing reached its peak.

The park wasn’t crowded—just a few other families and joggers scattered around. It was peaceful, the kind of evening where you could almost forget the strange tension that sometimes hung around the house, the questions you tried not to ask about her father’s late-night comings and goings.

But the peace didn’t last.

As you helped Su-an off the swing and she dragged you toward the monkey bars, a commotion near the edge of the park caught your attention. At first, you thought it was just a group of people arguing—a not-uncommon sight in the city. But then you saw him.

Your heart stopped.

There, in the dim light of a flickering street lamp, was a man—the man. His tall frame was unmistakable, even in the shadows. He stood over a small group of disheveled, huddled figures, who you quickly realized were homeless people. A plastic bag lay torn at his feet, loaves of bread spilled across the ground.

He wasn’t just standing there. He was stepping on the bread.

Your breath caught as you watched him stomp down with deliberate, almost mechanical force, grinding the food into the dirt. The homeless group stared in silence, some in shock, others looking away as if too defeated to protest.

“Isn’t that Daddy?”

The innocent question cut through the haze of disbelief like a knife. You snapped your head down to look at Su-an, her wide eyes fixed on the scene with a mix of curiosity and confusion.

“No,” you said quickly, your voice sharper than you intended. “It’s not.”

“But—”

Before she could finish, you crouched down and gently placed your hands over her eyes. “Let’s go, Su-an. We’re leaving.”

“Why can’t I look? What’s wrong?” she whined, squirming in your grasp.

“Because it’s not safe,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady as you picked her up and started walking away, her protests muffled against your shoulder.

Your mind raced as you carried her toward the car. What had you just witnessed? That couldn’t have been him—could it? But the silhouette, the way he carried himself—it was all too familiar.

You buckled Su-an into her car seat, doing your best to distract her with promises of ice cream and cartoons when you got home. But even as she babbled happily about her favorite flavors, your hands trembled on the steering wheel.

By the time you got back to the house and put Su-an to bed, your heart was still pounding. You paced the living room, replaying the scene over and over in your head. The way he’d crushed the bread underfoot—there had been no hesitation, no anger, just cold, calculated precision.

Who does that?

And more importantly, why?

The house was silent, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the floorboards as you shifted on the couch. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but between your classes, assignments, and Su-an’s boundless energy, exhaustion had taken its toll.

It was the sound of the front door slamming that jolted you awake. Disoriented, you blinked into the darkness, the faint glow of the kitchen light casting long shadows across the room. Footsteps echoed through the hallway—heavy, deliberate, and nothing like the hurried, near-silent ones you were used to from the man of the house.

You sat up, your heart beginning to race. Something wasn’t right.

When he appeared in the doorway, your stomach twisted into a knot. His usually pristine white shirt was drenched in blood, the vivid crimson staining the fabric and dripping in thick, uneven streaks. His face was ashen, his dark eyes wild and unfocused, like a man teetering on the edge of something you couldn’t name.

“Wh-what happened?” you stammered, instinctively backing away as the metallic tang of blood reached your nose.

“It’s not my blood,” he said curtly, his voice gravelly and sharp.

As if that was supposed to make you feel better.

“That doesn’t answer my question!” you said, your voice trembling despite your attempt to sound firm.

He staggered toward the kitchen, his movements unsteady but purposeful. Against every ounce of self-preservation screaming at you to stay put, you got up and followed him.

“Are you hurt?” you asked, your tone softer this time.

He didn’t respond, instead gripping the edge of the counter as if to steady himself. The dim light overhead cast harsh shadows across his sharp features, making him look even more unapproachable than usual.

“Sit down,” you said, surprised by the steadiness of your own voice.

He turned his head, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your chest tighten. For a moment, you thought he’d ignore you, but then he surprised you by obeying. He sank into one of the kitchen chairs, his movements slow and deliberate, as if every step cost him.

You grabbed a damp cloth from the sink, your hands trembling slightly as you wrung it out. You weren’t sure why you were doing this—why you weren’t running out the door or calling the police. Maybe it was the way he looked, like a man who had seen too much, or maybe it was the faint vulnerability hiding behind his hard exterior.

“This... isn’t normal,” you muttered, more to yourself than him, as you began wiping the blood from his face. The cloth came away dark and sticky, and your stomach churned.

“You shouldn’t concern yourself with things you don’t understand,” he said quietly, his voice carrying a warning edge.

You paused, meeting his gaze. His eyes were darker than you’d ever seen them, filled with something unreadable—a mix of exhaustion, anger, and something else that sent a shiver down your spine.

“I’m here,” you said, almost defiantly, as you moved to clean his hands. “So I’m already concerned.”

He didn’t respond, but the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease ever so slightly.

The silence between you grew even heavier, the only sound now being the soft movement of the cloth against his skin. Your hands were shaking slightly as you worked, wiping the blood from his face, his hands, but his eyes never left you. They were intense—piercing, almost as though he were searching for something in your expression.

You couldn’t look away for long. The tension in the air thickened with every passing second, your heartbeat picking up, each thud echoing loudly in your ears. It was like being drawn into a web you didn’t fully understand but couldn’t escape from, no matter how hard you tried.

When you finally stepped back, giving him space, you thought you’d be able to breathe again. But then, his hand shot out, quick as lightning, wrapping around your wrist. The touch was firm, deliberate, sending an involuntary jolt of electricity through your veins. You tried to pull away, but his grip was unyielding. His fingers were cold against your skin, but the intensity in his eyes made your heart race.

"Why are you helping me?" His voice was low, gravelly, and for a moment, you wondered if he was testing you—seeing if you’d reveal the truth, or maybe if you’d run.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breath, but your pulse was hammering, and you couldn’t ignore the way your body reacted to his proximity. The heat between you both felt suffocating. His touch was grounding, yet it stirred something dangerous inside you. “Because someone has to,” you replied, your voice steady, though you could feel the words slipping off your tongue more as a defense than truth.

His gaze deepened, darkening in a way that sent a chill down your spine. The air between you was thick, electric, as if there were an unspoken promise between you both—a promise you knew you were too afraid to fully acknowledge. Then, before you could even react, he pulled you in close. His other hand slid to the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair with a force that made your breath catch in your throat.

And then his lips were on yours.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t slow. It was a collision, desperate and overwhelming, like a dam that had been holding back too much for too long and was finally breaking free. His kiss was messy—almost violent—as if he needed to consume you, to claim you in a way that made your knees weak and your thoughts scatter. His lips were demanding, his teeth grazing your bottom lip in a way that made your body tremble.

You should’ve pushed him away, told him to stop, told him that this was wrong. Your mind screamed at you to break free, but your body betrayed you, leaning into him instead, matching the fervor of his kiss. His hand slid to your waist, pulling you even closer, his grip tightening. Your breath was ragged between kisses, and your pulse pounded in your ears as the world outside of the two of you seemed to vanish.

When he pulled away, just far enough to catch his breath, your lips were swollen, your chest heaving. You couldn’t think. All you could feel was the lingering heat of his touch, the undeniable thrum of desire that still buzzed beneath your skin. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, there was something in them—something dark, dangerous, but...hungry.

His lips curved into a smirk, and it sent a jolt of unease running down your spine, mingled with something else, something deeper.

“You’re in over your head, kid,” he said, his voice a low murmur that sent a shiver down your back.

The words should’ve been a warning. They should’ve sent you running. But instead, they only lingered in the air between you, wrapping themselves around you like a noose. You should’ve known then, but you didn’t want to listen.

And for the first time, you realized: you were already tangled up in his web, and maybe—just maybe—you didn’t want to escape.

The obsession grew in subtle ways. You’d arrive to find unexpected gifts waiting for you on the kitchen counter: a sleek leather wallet, a watch so expensive you didn’t dare wear it, a bottle of cologne that smelled like a storm breaking over the ocean.

When you tried to protest—“This is too much” or “I can’t accept this”—his expression would shift. His jaw would tighten, his eyes darkening with something that made your chest tighten.

“Take it,” he’d say, his tone brooking no argument. And you’d always comply, your words catching in your throat as he gave you a look that said refusing wasn’t an option.

Your feelings about him became a tangled mess of contradictions. Every instinct screamed that something about him was wrong. The blood, the cryptic way he spoke, the chilling bread incident in the park—they all painted a picture of a man you should stay far away from.

But then there were the moments that left you reeling. A lingering glance, a brush of his hand against yours, the way he could soften—just slightly—when he saw you with Su-an.

The first time he kissed you, you felt like your world had been turned inside out. It was sudden, overwhelming, and left you breathless. His lips were rough but urgent, like he was staking a claim rather than asking permission. And when it happened again—and again—you didn’t push him away. Instead, you found yourself leaning into him, craving the heat of his touch despite every rational thought telling you to run.

But his obsession wasn’t content to simmer beneath the surface. It began to consume him, bleeding into the delicate balance of your day-to-day life.

He started showing up during your babysitting hours, a presence that was impossible to ignore. At first, he’d just watch from the doorway as you played with Su-an, his dark eyes following your every move with a possessiveness that sent shivers down your spine.

Then, his involvement escalated. He’d dismiss you early—always with some excuse about needing to talk to you. But the moment Su-an was out of earshot, his demeanor would shift. He’d pull you into his room, his hands firm but not rough as he guided you inside.

“You’re spending so much time with her,” he’d say, his voice low and rough, tinged with something you couldn’t quite place. “Don’t forget who’s paying you.”

His lips would crash against yours before you could respond, his kisses urgent and messy, as though he couldn’t stand the thought of you being anywhere else but with him.

The final straw came on a night like any other—or so you thought. Su-an had already gone to bed, and you were tidying up the living room when your gaze drifted toward the slightly ajar door of the man’s study. It was a room he rarely used in your presence, a space he kept locked most of the time.

You hadn’t intended to snoop. But the door was open, and your curiosity, already inflamed by the strange events surrounding him, got the better of you.

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of leather and faintly bitter cologne. The dim lighting cast long shadows over the mahogany desk and the shelves lined with books and files. One particular folder caught your attention—it was open, papers spilling out as if hastily shoved aside.

Your heart sank as you picked up the first page. It was your class schedule, neatly printed and highlighted. Beneath it were receipts from your favorite coffee shop, notes about your usual order scribbled in the margins.

And then there were the photos.

They weren’t candid shots taken on the street or at the park. They were intimate, the kind of photos someone would take if they were watching closely—too closely. You recognized the outfits, the moments. One was of you laughing as you pushed Su-an on the swings. Another showed you sitting on a park bench, earbuds in, entirely unaware of the camera.

The air in the room felt too thick, like it was choking you. Your fingers trembled as you shoved the papers back into the folder, heart hammering in your chest.

“What the hell is this?”

The words left your mouth before you even realized he was standing in the doorway, his tall frame silhouetted against the light from the hall. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes burned with something intense.

The folder in your hands felt heavier than it should have, its contents seared into your memory. Photos of you, notes about your life, details no one should know unless they’d been watching you for far too long. Your heart pounded in your chest as you stared at him, standing so calmly in the doorway as if this was all perfectly normal.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you demanded, your voice shaking.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stepped further into the room, his movements slow, deliberate. The door clicked shut behind him, sealing you in with the man you were starting to realize you knew far less about than you’d thought.

“I warned you,” he said, his voice low, almost soothing. “I told you not to go looking where you shouldn’t.”

“This—this is insane,” you stammered, backing up until the edge of the desk pressed against your hips. “Why do you have these? Why are you—”

“You don’t get it, do you?” he interrupted, his tone softening as he drew closer. His gaze was unrelenting, pinning you in place. “I’ve been watching over you. Protecting you. You’re... important to me.”

“Protecting me?” you shot back, your voice breaking. “This is stalking. This is obsessive. This—this isn’t normal!”

He stopped just a breath away from you, his height and presence overwhelming. His eyes, dark and piercing, searched yours for something, though you couldn’t tell what. Slowly, he reached out, his hand brushing against your cheek.

“I can’t lose you,” he murmured, his voice almost breaking. “Do you have any idea what you mean to me–and to my daughter? You’ve become... everything.”

The warmth of his touch sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. Your body tensed, torn between the instinct to pull away and the undeniable pull of his closeness.

“Stop,” you whispered, though your voice lacked the strength it should have had. “This isn’t—this can’t—”

But he didn’t stop. His other hand moved to your waist, firm but not forceful, as he leaned closer.

“You keep saying it’s wrong,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, his breath warm against your lips. “But you don’t push me away.”

His lips brushed against yours, testing, as though giving you one last chance to stop him. But when you didn’t move, when your breath hitched and your hands gripped the edge of the desk behind you, he took it as permission.

The kiss was slow at first, deliberate and searching, as though he was memorizing every inch of your mouth. But it didn’t stay that way for long. His hand slid up to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss.

You gasped against him, your hands instinctively gripping his shirt. The heat of him, the sheer intensity of his presence, was dizzying. When his teeth grazed your bottom lip, you couldn’t suppress the small sound that escaped you—a sound that seemed to ignite something in him.

His movements grew more desperate, more consuming. He pressed you back against the desk, his body caging you in as his lips moved from your mouth to your jaw, then down to the sensitive skin of your neck. The scrape of his stubble sent sparks of sensation racing down your spine, and you couldn’t help the way your head tilted to give him better access.

“You drive me insane,” he murmured against your skin, his voice rough, almost guttural. “Do you even realize what you do to me?”

You swallowed hard, your mind racing even as your body betrayed you, leaning into him. His hands gripped your waist, his thumbs brushing just under the hem of your shirt, and you shivered at the contact.

“This... this isn’t okay,” you managed, though the words came out weak, shaky.

“No,” he agreed, pulling back just enough to look at you. His gaze was dark, filled with something you didn’t dare name. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t want it.”

The words hung between you, heavy and charged, as he leaned in again, his lips claiming yours with a hunger that left no room for argument. And though your mind screamed at you to stop, to push him away, your body betrayed you, pulling him closer instead.

His hand slowly trailed to the hem of your sweatpants, lightly tugging on the strap, you flinched when his cold hand suddenly went under your boxers.

“We shouldn’t be doing this– Su-an might-” you were interrupted with his other hand covering your mouth.

“Hush now, this room is soundproof,” he merely stated before harshly pulling your pants and boxers down with one tug. He then picked you up and placed you on the desk, pushing aside all the files and paper, which now seemed so insignificant.

“You’re hard. Are you still telling me you don’t want this?” He questions, his warm breath fanning your ear. You shuddered at the feeling, not knowing what to say, or what to do.

Before you could form words, he wraps his hand around your aching cock which was standing erect, partly due to the cool air, and partly due to what was happening.

His movements were minimal, slowly moving his hand along your shaft, while his other hand fetched a packet of lube from his back pocket. Where he managed to get that, you couldn’t tell.

He ripped the packet with his teeth, and spread the substance all over his fingers, before swiftly flipping you over, so that your ass was facing him.

Before you could utter a word of process, he had slipped a lubed finger in you. A wanton moan left your mouth at the sudden intrusion.

“Fuck–don’t stop, please,” the man only smirked at this, slowly sliding in another finger, and then another. Three of his fingers slowly pumped in and out of you, and oh, it felt heavenly. His other hand held you up just a bit, to keep you from falling off the study desk.

Your hands gripped onto the desk, frantically trying to keep yourself upright, but to no avail. You kept slumping off, the pleasure being too overwhelming.

“Stay still for me pet, that’s it–good boy,” the praise went straight to your dick, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Soon, the man determined that you had been prepped enough, and removed his fingers. You whined at the sudden emptiness, wanting to feel full once more.

He stared at your twitching hole, clenching around nothing. The sight did nothing but turn him on even more.

He removed his belt and cast it aside, while tugging down his pants and boxers with a sense of urgency. He easily flipped you over with his strong arms, now getting a clear view of your already fucked-out face.

He merely grinned, and before you could respond, he slid into your awaiting hole. You gasped at the intrusion, the head of his cock bullying its way into your hole. He groaned feeling the way you clenched around his length.

Without waiting for you to adjust, he fucked into you like an animal in heat, holding your legs in such a way that your knees where at your shoulders.

The new angle made his length hit your prostate with every thrust, making your head fall back on the table, a loud moan leaving your lips.

The man was savouring every single reaction, every little noise you made. “Such a sweet little thing,” he cooed. “Can’t even keep a straight head while getting fucked, hm?”

The only thing that left your mouth was a string of garbled noises. Your brain had quite literally turned to mush with how well he was fucking you.

Soon, you felt your orgasm wash over you like a waterfall, but the man didn’t stop. Instead, he fucked into you harder, a bulge forming in your stomach with every thrust.

He lightly pressed on the bulge, which made you squeal– the overstimulation doing too much to your head.

He kept rutting into you until he felt his climax. When it came, his thrusts slowly started to stutter. Without warning he emptied his load in you, painting your gummy walls white.

He kept you on the desk, without pulling out as you whimpered, feeling so, so full.

With your mind in such a disarrayed state, you didn’t notice him slip a small ring onto your finger.

“Now you can’t leave me–or Su-an, ever. Poor thing needs a mother after all.”

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benevolenterrancy · 8 days ago

Note

art prompt for you: Liu Qingge returning one of Shen Qingqiu's fans

payment for services rendered

#svsss #liushen #liu qingge #shen qingqiu #this is a ridiculously old prompt sorry #i was in the mood to dig into my inbox and find some ideas #and i finally got struck with inspiration for this one #suddenly struck with a burning need for an indirect kiss through the fan #my art

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creepyscritches · 8 months ago

Note

I read your post about open enrollment for the ACA and was hoping you might expand on why you believe it would take years to dismantle. I've been terrified that with a Republican house/senate, Trump could just snap his fingers and make it go away within months of taking office. I'd love some reassurance that that's not possible.

Hiya, sure I can share some thoughts on the matter! First, it's very important to understand the ACA is a huuuuuuuuuuuuge system with subject matter experts in dozens of places throughout the process. I'm one of those SMEs, but I am at the end of the process where the revenue is generated, so my insight is limited on the public facing pieces.

What this means is that I am professionally embedded in the ACA in a position that exists purely to show what conditions people are treated for and then generate that data into what's called a "risk score". There's about 6 pages I could write on it, but the takeaway is that the ACA is

1) intricately interwoven with the federal government

2) increasingly profitable, sustainable, and growing (it is STILL a for-profit system if you can believe it)

3) wholeheartedly invested in by the largest insurance companies in the country LARGELY due to the fact that they finally learned the rules of how to make the ACA a thriving center of business

4) since the big issuers are arm+leg invested in the ACA, there is a lot of resistance politically and on an industry level to leave it behind (think of the lobbyists, politicians, corporations that will fight tooth and nail to protect their profit + investment)

The process to calculate a risk score takes roughly 2 years. There is an audit for the concurrent year and then a vigorous retro audit for the prev year - - this is a rolling cycle every year. Medicare has a similar process. These are RVP + RADV audits if you would like the jargon.

Eliminating the ACA abruptly is as internally laughable as us finishing the RADV audit ahead of schedule. If Trump were to blow the ACA into smithereens on day 1, he would be drowning in issuer complaints and an economic health sector that is essentially bleeding out. You cut off the RVP early? We have half of next RADV stuck in the gears now. You cut off the RADV early? No issuer will get their "risk adjusted" payments for services rendered in the prev benefit year (to an extent, again very complex multi-process system).

The ACA is GREAT for the public and should be defended on that basis alone. However, the inner capitalistic nature of the ACA is a powerful armor that has conservatives + liberals defending it on a basis of capital + market growth. It's not sexy, but it makes too much money consistently for the system to be easily dismantled.

Or at least that's what I can tell you from the money center of the ACA. they don't bring us up in political conversation because we are confusing to seasoned professionals, boring to industry outsiders, and consistently we are anathema to the anti-ACA talking points.

I am already preparing for next year's RVP for this window of open enrollment. That RVP process will feed into the RADV in 2026. In 2025, we begin the RADV for 2024. If nothing else, the slow fucking gears of CMS will keep the ACA alive until we finish our work at the end of the process. I highly doubt that will be the only reason the ACA is safeguarded, but it is a powerful type of support to pair with people protecting the ACA for other reasons.

I work every day to show, defend, and educate on how many diagnoses are managed thru my company's ACA plans. My specialty is cancer and I see a lot of it. The revenue drive comes from the Medical Loss Ratio (MLR) rule stating only 20% MAX of profit may go to the issuer + the 80% at a minimum must go back to the customer or be invested in expanding benefits. The more people on the plan using it, the higher that 20% becomes for the issuer and the more impactful that 80% becomes for the next year of benefit growth. It is remarkably profitable once issuers stop seeking out "healthy populations". The ACA is a functional method for issuers to tap into a stable customer base (sick/chronic ill customers) that turns a profit, grows, and builds strong consumer bases in each state.

The industry can never walk away from this overnight - - this is the preferred investment for many big players. Changing the direction of those businesses will be a monumental effort that takes years (at least 2 with the audits). In the meantime, you still have benefits, you still have care, and you still have reason to sign up. Let us deal with the bureaucracy bullshit, go get your care and know you have benefits thru 2025 and we will be working to keep it that way for 2026 and forward. This is a wing of the federal government, it is not a jenga tower like Trump wishes.

#Creepy chatter

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writing-prompt-s · 2 years ago

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You’ve been getting random $1 deposits in your bank account daily with no explanation. Today, you get a deposit of $1 million with a note: 'Payment for services rendered. Thank you for saving the world.'

#writers #writers on tumblr #writing prompts #writeblr #writing inspiration

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phoenixyfriend · 1 year ago

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"Why didn't the Jedi help Shmi after TPM?"

Why didn't Padmé.

Ignoring the expanded universe stuff about Qui-Gon sending the expensive lens or Padmé dispatching Sabé years later, so long after that Cliegg had already met, wooed, and saved up to free Shmi himself, why did Padmé not include "paying back the slave woman who helped me save my planet" in her post-invasion plans?

The Jedi have budgets that are regulated, to some unknown degree, by the Senate. Sure, there's probably some discretionary spending, but an Entire Slave would be flagged. Not a purchase you can hide easily! They're also NOT supposed to operate in Hutt Space unless undercover OR as official Republic envoys.

Padmé? Literally a queen. In the same galactic neighborhood. Has inherited wealth. Probably has room in her staff for a mechanic or something. Can easily justify freeing Shmi to her cabinet as payment for services rendered; remember, that Nubian hyperdrive was paid with Anakin's winnings, meaning they came at the cost of Shmi's freedom.

The real answer is that George Lucas needed Shmi to still be on Tatooine in AotC, and never bothered to expand on how Shmi was freed, himself, so other people took up the slack.

But if we ask why the Jedi didn't free Shmi, then I think we also need to ask: why didn't Padmé?

(I love Padmé. I fully believe she would have sent someone to free Shmi after Naboo was in order post-Invasion, and that it was just an oversight or even plot necessity from G Lucas. I just dislike the double standards of hating on the Jedi for not helping when Padmé is right next door and has That Cash Money.)

#Phoenix Talks #star wars #shmi skywalker #padme amidala #pro Jedi #discourse #original trilogy

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omaano · 3 months ago

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UPDATE 03/06/2025

Commissions are closed for the summer. Thank you everyone who showed interest and asked for a slot! If I had added you to the queue I will be in touch with you about your request as we have agreed in the DMs or email! 🧡

⭐COMMISSIONS ARE OPEN⭐

Reblogs are deeply appreciated even if you cannot afford to ask for a commission ❤️ And if you'd like to support me and my artwork n any other way - like with a small tip - I have a ko-fi too ❤️

I’d be happy to draw your OC, favourite character or ship for you; you may check out my art tag for other examples of my work on top of what is in this post, as well as previous commissions I had drawn. If you have further questions don’t hesitate to DM me, or send me an email at [email protected] - detailed descriptions, and reference pictures are greatly appreciated! I truy love learning more about your characters and their backstories through the art process :)

Text transcript of prices, DOs and DON'Ts and additional information under the cut, I encourage you to check that out as well ->

Prices, payment and refund options

All prices are in USD and to be paid through PayPal invoices upfront. Cancellation of the commission is only possible before work on the piece is started. Once the sketch is finalized no refund is possible.

Prices:

Headshot/bust: sketch $25, lines+light shading $40, full render $50

Half-body/waist-up: sketch $40, lines+light shading $55, full render $70

Full body: sketch $50, lines+light shading $70, full render $90

Art Nouveau Inspired full illustration (frame and flowers or text included in price):

Headshot/bust: $60

Half-body/waist-up: $90

Full body: $120

Extra characters are +75%

Simple background is included in the price, anything more complicated (background, very detailed clothing/armour/jewelry/tattoo etc. - clone armor is the baseline) can be negotiated for extra ($15+, or 50% of the full price for a detailed background. Let it be its own supporting character :) ).

DOs and DON'Ts

I WILL draw: OCs, fan characters, self insert characters, fanart, ships/couples, mild nsfw (e.g. blood, scars, suggestive themes, if an antique statue could get away with it, then so can I. If unsure please ask)

I will NOT draw: mecha, anthro, shio art with real life people, or anything I feel uncomfortable with

How it works

Commissioner will receive digital goods - I'll send the high-res version of the commissioned art piece via email. Check-ins can be done via DM or email.

3 minor changes are allowed (e.g. hand placement, flat colours etc) at check-ins with the sketch and colour concepts. Other major changes (like changing the pose after the idea of the sketch is finalized) will cost extra $10+.

I have the right to refuse to accept a commission. The work is for personal use only and cannot be used for commercial purposes. I retain rights to the artwork. The commissioned drawing is not to be used in any AI training program or any NFT-related project.

You may post the finished piece to your social media accounts with credits to me as the artist. I might want to post the piece to my own socials as well but I will ask for your permission for that first.

For detailed Terms of Service and further information please check out the following link.

I’m looking forward to working with you :)

#commission #commissions #commissions open #commission info #commission sheet #my art #art commissions #commission open #open commissions

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sanjoongie · 6 days ago

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𝔽𝕠𝕔𝕦𝕤 𝕠𝕟 𝕞𝕖

🔧Pairing: Customer! Mingi x Mechanic! Reader (f) 🔧Genre: smut, pwp 🔧Trope: sex for services 🔧Au: non-idol, mechanic 🔧Rated: 18+, MDNI 🔧Warnings: oral (f), protected sex, dacryphilia, service top! Mingi, assuring bottom! reader 🔧Word Count: 1,620 🔧Summary: Mingi needs his car fixed but the towing alone blew all his money. When he offers up sex in payment for his car being fixed, you can't say no to his big eyes 🔧Beta: @downtoamagicalland

Mingi’s powder blue convertible was the love of his life. So when a fuse blew and he had to pay for it to be towed to the nearest garage, he was nearly devastated. He bemoaned outside your bay door the entire time you were working on it.

“Why does towing cost so much anyways? Obviously my car isn’t working so I can’t drive it to the garage,” Mingi pouts.

“Someone’s wage needs to be paid for the service and the gas,” You reply, nonplussed. Mingi wasn’t even on the level you were used to with some customers.

You slam the hood down, causing your customer to jump a foot in the air. “All done.”

Mingi made a face. “Do you take payments in installments?"

You lean back on the hood of Mingi’s car. “Nope.” You let the p pop.

Mingi begins to scratch the back of his head. “Listen.”

You raise an eyebrow at Mingi’s anxiousness. “I’m listening.”

“Paying the towing alone blew any money I had.” Mingi blows some air out of his mouth, causing his fringe to ruffle.

You chew silently on your gum, studying Mingi. He’s got on some pretty nice shoes, light wash jeans and a white button up. He doesn’t look like he’s low on money. You blow a bubble with your gum.

“Is there any other way I can repay you?” Mingi broaches the subject.

His eyes are big and vulnerable. That look probably worked with a lot of people. But you had a business to run and parts weren’t cheap. Neither was your labour.

“You could work off your debt,” You suggest.

Mingi winces. “I’m not sure I’d be much help in a garage. I don’t know the difference between a fender or a wrench.”

“Look, Mister Song--”

“Mingi.” Your customer corrects you.

“Mingi, I can’t do this for free. The fuse alone isn’t that much but you paid for my services instead of doing this yourself,” You insist.

Mingi ambles over to you on top of the hood of his car. He places both of his hands palm down and leans into you. “There’s other services I could render.” He cheekily traps his tongue between his teeth.

“You must be awfully full of yourself if you think sex with you is worth the cost of fixing your car,” You deadpan.

Mingi smiles, a grin really, full of teeth and making his eyes disappear. “No complaints so far.”

You let out some air, causing your hair to ruffle. “This is absolutely ridiculous.”

“Does that mean you’re considering it?” Mingi looks delighted.

You purse your lips to the side in disappointment. “I should just take you to small claims court.”

“I promise, this will be much more enjoyable,” Mingi says with a glimmer in his eyes.

Mingi used his height to his advantage and closed the garage door firmly. He then pushed you down back against the hood of his car, after stripping you of your one piece, and promptly ate you out like you were an open buffet. Your hands dug into his soft hair, urging him closer, as your climax approached. You let out a mewl as Mingi denies you your orgasm, and moves away.

Mingi sits on his haunches in front of the car and uses the back of his hand to wipe away any errant moisture from his face. His tongue is still tracing his lips when he speaks. “So, I have something to confess.”

Your arm is thrown over your face, attempting to not beg for more. “If it’s that you’re rich and you actually have money to pay me, I no longer care.”

Mingi laughs and stands up. His ringed hands play along the skin from your knee up your thigh. “I kinda sorta maybe sabotaged my car so that this could happen.”

You lift your arm to send an incredulous look at Mingi. “What?”

Mingi looks up at the ceiling, face guilty. “I live around here. And it’s been a hot summer. Seeing you with your coveralls half down, in a dirty tank top, just flat does it for me.”

You sit up, knocking Mingi’s hands off you, and cross your legs, a little self conscious now that you’re ass naked on the hood of his car. “So you made one of your fuses blow so that you could bring your car to my garage? Why not ask me out like a normal person?”

Mingi winces. “Well, I’ve kinda had this fantasy with you…”

“That you eat me out on the hood of your car?” You demand in disbelief.

Mingi smiles but it fades when he realizes you’re not joking. “No, paying you for your services with sex.”

You throw your hands up. “You’ve seen way too many pornos, Mingi.”

Mingi’s giving you his big innocent eyes again. “So… now that I’ve told you the truth..?”

“Well now you’ve got to fuck me!” You shout. “I’m all worked up now!”

“I brought a condom.” Mingi pulls out a square, foil package.

Your eyelashes flutter as your eyes roll. “Wow, you really had zero doubt that this wouldn’t work, huh?”

Mingi gently untangles your legs and spreads them. “I promise, I’ll be good to you.”

“You better,” You say nonplussed.

You watch in half curiosity, half anger as Mingi unbuckles his jeans and pushes them and his underwear far enough to release his dick. Your eyes widen a fraction when you see what he’s packing. Mingi’s too preoccupied with putting the condom on, otherwise, he’d be quite happy from your reaction.

His eyes go to your face and back to the head of his cock as one hand presses your thigh down to the hood of his car and the other guides his cock to your entrance. “It’s okay, right?”

“Mingi, for the love of cars, just fuck me already!” You yell in frustration.

Mingi bites down on his lower lip as he pushes into you. You're wet enough that everything is good but that still doesn’t prepare you for how much Mingi has to fight to get inside of you. Nor does anything prepare you for the look on Mingi’s face. He may be the one on top of you but his eyebrows furrow like he’s desperate for something.

“Mingi… are you okay?” You can’t help but ask.

“Yeah, I--” Mingi blows out a shaky breath, a smile flirting on his lips. “It’s just really good.”

“You sure, cuz you look like you’re gonna--” You suck in a gasp as an errant tear rolls down Mingi’s face.

Mingi dashes it away as soon as he feels it rolling down the apple of his cheeks. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

“You’re beautiful,” You murmur. “Don't apologize.”

“Yeah,” Mingi smiles bashfully.

“You can start moving now,” You remind him.

Mingi stares down where his dick is inside of you and watches as it moves in and out of your cunt. Your head rolls back at the sensation.

“Hey hey.” Mingi calls you back to earth. “Just focus on me.”

“Fuck,” You can’t help but whine. “You weren’t joking.”

Mingi nudges his hips against your ass a little harder and that whine turns into a full fledged moan. Which only encourages Mingi to snap his hips forward again and again. Your ass starts to move up the hood of the power blue convertible to the point where Mingi has to wrap his arms behind your back and hold you against him.

“Shit,” Mingi groans. “You’re coming soon right? You’re squeezing me so damn tight, I don’t know how much longer I can hold out.”

“You--” Your breath gets blown out of your lungs as Mingi thrusts into you. “You keep going like that and I will.”

A crescendo of “ah’s” fall from your lips as Mingi fucks you good. The angle he’s digging into is so fucking good that you have to fight from closing your eyes again. Mingi’s mouth is a hairsbreadth away from your lips, breath ghosting your lips. This should be just a simple lustful fuck but between the tears and the proximity, it was starting to feel much more intimate.

“Fall apart for me on my car.” Mingi whispers.

You shout as your climax roars through you. A plethora of ‘fucks’ are gasped as Mingi’s fucks you through your high. His thrusts also send him on his way, along with a loud moan that echoes into the rafters of your garage.

And in between the both of you receiving your release, Mingi manages to capture your lips with his. It’s sensual and gentle, a simple melding of lips, but you eagerly press your lips back to his, your climax having you greedy for anything more.

Mingi chuckles into the kiss and then separates from you. “That definitely lived up to the fantasy.”

You lock your legs behind Mingi’s slim waist and he looks at you in confusion. “I’m afraid that’s not going to cover your bill, Mister Song.”

You watch as the gears in Mingi’s head spin until finally he realizes exactly what you’re up to. You’re not too sure why you suddenly want to play into Mingi’s little fantasy, but, if it equals getting dicked down by him a second time, the end justifies the means.

“I don’t think I have another condom,” Mingi worries.

You shrug your shoulders. “I’m on birth control. Besides, wouldn’t it be fun to see your cum drip down my--” Mingi smashes his lips against yours eagerly, cutting off your dirty talk. “--Onto your car--mmfff!”

Mingi’s kisses are hungry now but you tap his stomach to remind him he better take off his condom and fuck you properly.

Suddenly, you have a new favorite customer.

#pirateeznet #lapydiariesnet #ateez smut #song mingi smut #mingi smut #song mingi x reader #ateez x reader #song mingi fanfic #ateez fanfic #song mingi imagines #ateez imagines #song mingi scenarios #ateez scenarios #topaz's work #ღatz #recent

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theonion · 4 months ago

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Paying no mind to his forgetful nature and instead lending a fancy free, devil-may-care attitude toward his tendency to sign up for promotional offers, area man Ben Cameron was playing it fast and loose this week with his free trials for numerous subscription-based services. “Yeah, why not? I’ll try FUBI. It’s free for the first month, so I’ll just cancel after the trial runs out,” said Cameron, whose goldfish-like memory rendered him completely ignorant to the fact that he had already forgotten to cancel previous free trials for GameFly, Paramount+, Peacock, and several others, despite the steady stream of automatic monthly payments continually withdrawn from his checking account.

Full Story

#the onion #news #Streaming

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aealzx · 11 months ago

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_______________________

Prologue | AO3

Previous Next

_______________________

“You came all the way out here to ask me to identify a plant?” Pamela was understandably incredulous as she blocked Tim from entering her current residence.

“Weeelll,” Tim drawled, shrugging with one shoulder. “Spoiler and Orphan said you’d be the best to contact. We could go elsewhere, but then I’d have to find somewhere else for these bacon and egg sandwiches,” he explained, revealing the hand that was behind his back to be holding a paper bag for a local food joint. It was a bribe. Or payment for services rendered if one wanted to be posh about it. But he was fine calling it a bribe.

“Aw hell yeah!” Harleen’s voice came from further in the establishment, and Tim caught just the faintest hint of a smile twitching Pamela’s mouth. She tried to resist, but Tim held his ground with a decidedly innocent smile, the bag of egg sandwiches still held in offering.

Eventually Pamela sighed and held out her hand. “Fine. What identifiers do you have for it?” she relented, letting Tim set the bag of food on her palm.

“Not much honestly. The locals call it a blood blossom, but I doubt it’s a haemanthus coccineus. We don’t have a picture, but we’re told it looks like a red rose bud with black leaves,” Tim answered. He’d done his own research already while waiting for the food to be made, and that was part of the reason he didn’t feel bad for following through with the others’ idea to ask Pamela. He had a few guesses already, but it would be nice to get a second opinion.

“A rose with black leaves?” Pamela repeated, her disappointed expression becoming thoughtful. “That’s it? Nothing else?” she asked soon after, frowning deeper if possible.

“Nothing else,” Tim confirmed, both disappointed and pleased that Pamela also didn’t seem able to come up with an answer.

“Sounds made up,” Pamela answered bluntly, shifting to move back into the building. “There aren’t any roses with black leaves unless they’re mutilated. The closest you’ll get is a begonia switzerland if you’re just going by appearance.”

“Oh…. that’s what I thought too,” Tim hummed, raising a curled finger to his chin.

Pamela’s eye twitched. “Then why did you-.... Goodbye,” she stammered, then figured it wasn’t worth her time to deal with Tim further, and closed the door on him.

Tim could only snort in amusement, raising his voice for just a moment. “Thanks for the info! Enjoy the food!” he called, grinning as he turned to grapple himself back to the rooftops.

So the blood blossoms were either an extremely obscure name for some other plant, or they didn’t actually exist. And if they didn’t exist, then what had poisoned Danny? At least Dick and Damian were heading straight to the manor to follow up with Alfred about meals, and bring the tissue sample with the plant based poison to where Bruce could use their tech to better analyze it. And Barbara had already mentioned she’d meet them there, so while they might not have a good start on two of the three questions they should at least be able to figure out who these kids were exactly.

—----------

“They don’t exist,” Barbara’s conclusion about the five Phantom kids they had custody of was short, but did little to answer any questions the others had. After spending a few hours gathering her data she had decided to join the others at the manor, the three who had returned from the rescue mission, Bruce, and her now gathered in the Bat Cave by the computer. Admittedly that hadn’t been something they fully expected to hear, so there were sagging shoulders from both Dick and Tim at the announcement.

“You ran the search in all of the databases, yeah?” Tim asked, immediately trying to figure out what they had missed. Barbara was usually extremely thorough. It was hard to believe she came up with nothing on a group of five people. Especially when two of them had superhuman abilities.

“Yes, Tim,” Barbara responded quickly. “If you’ll let me continue before you try to solve the problem yourself I’ll save you some steps,” she added, getting a mildly teasing smile. When Tim relented with a mild shrug Barbara turned her chair back to the computer, pulling her reports up on the huge monitor.

“The DNA samples came up with no results. Amity Park doesn’t exist on any map. There’s no social media posts about any combination of their names. And the photo Jason sent of Jazz’s ID also has no results. It doesn’t even resemble the official driver’s license format of Illinois or any of the other states, so it’s not hard to see why the bank teller would call it a fake,” she listed, bringing up the reports from her data scouring as she mentioned them. “The only activity I can track from them is here in Gotham, starting 72 days ago. I believe that’s when they first arrived here.”

The date caused Bruce to shift, breaking out of his silence once it seemed Barbara had finished summarizing her findings and drawing a connection to a separate report he’d gotten more than a month ago. “72 days ago is when the Justice League got readings of an anomaly on the outskirts of Gotham. Investigations revealed some remains of unknown technology, but no one was there with it.”

“...What kind of anomaly?” Dick asked, tensing slightly at a thought that crossed his mind. Unknown DNA, unusable bank and ID cards, two of them claiming to be beings that were never heard of before now.

“Please don’t say multiverse breach,” Tim whined, revealing that he’d had the same thoughts as Dick.

Instead of answering them Bruce just opened a different report, having been locating it as his sons had been speaking. When the data appeared on screen both Dick and Tim let out extended groans, their forms sagging even more as Barbara chuckled softly.

“It had to be dimension garbage,” Tim whined more, squinting at the report confirming suspected multiverse breach residue in the affected area.

“That explains all the missing data,” Barbara commented, just glad to have an explanation for why all her research was coming up blank prior to the anomaly. It was because they literally had nothing on this earth before then, and not because they were some sort of geniuses that could manage such an extensive data wipe to make even her systems come up with blanks.

“That also explains why Dr. Isley was unfamiliar with the blood blossoms,” Damian added, seeming unfazed by the revelation.

“And literally everything else that was weird about them,” Tim encompassed, frustration bleeding into his tone. What kind of puzzle didn’t even have answers in this world? He felt like that was cheating.

“Do they seem aware that they are no longer in their dimension? We’re sure this wasn’t a deliberate transport?” Bruce asked, masking his growing concern for the dislocated children by suggesting they might still be hiding something.

“Please, these kids can’t hide anything that well,” Tim huffed, giving a wry smile. “The only reason they’re able to hide anything is because they’re also oblivious. Otherwise it’s way too easy to tell they’re keeping something a secret.”

Bruce only frowned more at the response, and Barbara couldn’t help add her own support of the idea that the Phantoms had no idea they weren’t even close to home. “They seemed to have had enough to deal with, I don’t think they had time to consider it. Almost 80% of their activity ties back to them looking for ectoplasm. The other 20% is just general medical care and necessities of living.”

“Ectoplasm is the stuff they said Danny needed,” Dick added unnecessarily.

“I remember,” Bruce responded, though he could also understand why the kids had such a hard time tracking down a source. Most of Gotham didn’t even believe in ghosts, and the only people he or his family knew that matched the category were Boston and Greta. “Their search led them to a Lazarus water exchange.”

“Yeah. But apparently even though it’s similar enough, the Lazarus water is ‘freaky’ and they don’t want to use it according to Danielle,” Dick confirmed, using air quotes for what the small girl had said.

“All five of them have traces of another substance I’ve never seen before that seems similar to residue from Lazarus water as well,” Barbara spoke up to add, reaching over to the computer once more as she once again had their attention. The DNA analysis reports were enlarged, and she used a screen sketch app to mark the unusual traces. “It’s most prominent in Danielle and Danny, though Danny’s levels read a lot lower. But the other three have small traces as well.”

“The one called Danielle made mention of Danny having expended a significant amount of energy, to the point his accelerated healing ability has been hindered. And that there was a lack of locations with an abundance of said energy for them to absorb,” Damian recalled, ignoring the face Tim pulled as he slowly turned to look at him.

“You made that sound way more complicated than she did,” Tim grimaced.

“Silence Drake,” Damian retorted simply.

Dick could only snicker while keeping his gaze on the reports like Bruce was doing. “This will make it easier to track some of the substance down. I’ll see if I can create a collection device to make it easier for us to get larger amounts, and work on a way to neutralize the residual plant material,” Bruce commented, already making plans for the next course of action.

“After dinner,” Dick enforced, resting his hands on the back of Bruce’s chair.

Bruce seemed to consider it, falling silent and keeping his gaze on the monitor, giving no answer other than a short grunt after a long stretch of quiet.

Dick only leaned on the chair more, pulling it back slightly. “Aaaaafter dinner, Bruce. Thirty minutes isn’t going to be that big of a loss,” he prodded.

“...Alfred put you up to this, didn’t he,” Bruce pointed out instead of responding to the request.

“He did,” Dick confirmed, admitting to being requested to make sure Bruce got at least one hearty meal before getting lost in his work once again.

Bruce considered it longer, and by then the rest of his children were already on their way back upstairs. Did he really want Alfred hassling him again? “... Very well. After dinner,” he relented, getting to his feet with a slight sigh and locking the computer screen.

_________________

Dimension hopping confirmed~ And I just realized I now have 2 fanfics that involve dimension hopping X'D that was unintentional.

Questions for the people following/interested: because I'm not familiar with most of DC or really DP's canon and fanon content and there's so freaking much of it out there, which characters would you like to see involved? No guarantees that they'll be in if I can't figure out how to get them to fit, but I need somewhere to start researching stuff X'DD. Also there's essentially 2 goals, wake Danny up, and get Team Phantom back home. How difficult should these tasks be, and which one would people rather have more focus on?

This fic originated from a prompt I found, so I think it might be fun to kind of keep that going? A different kind of writing exercise than what I'm used to. So that's why the questions instead of me just going heheh have a cliffhanger.

Though I will say I'm still of the opinion of no romance, so please don't suggest pairings |D

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Tag list: @galaxy-sharks-and-bottled-ships, @starscreamlover, @nerdynonnativenarnian, @dragongoblet, @zeestarfishalien, @bellathecatastrophe, @cj-ghostemoji-destielpie, @asexual-insomniac, @wolfeyedwitch, @tkiesai, @fanaroff, @raven1508, @nebulainajar, @serasvictoria02, @oliocelottafanfics, @honeysuckletook, @omniithe-deer, @wolf-under-the-stars, @gingernutcalo, @that-random-fangirl

#my art #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dpxdc #phantom rogues #long post #writing #fanfic

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