#rogue you were

[pursuitseternal]

“Release Me:” ⛓️ Chains and feral smut ⛓️ for “The Rogue You Were”

Ascended Astarion x F!Reader |E| 2K

“Chains” prompt for Ascended Astarion Week

Summary: After weeks of captivity and starvation, you finally rescue your love from his enemies. But the beast chained in the cell barely knows himself or you… until you’ve satisfied all his hungers.

CW: Blood kink (I just wanted a reason to have them fuck covered in blood), Feral/primal play, desperate sex, long nailed AA, prison sex, bondage/mild BDSM

Ao3 link | Astarion Fic Masterlist

⛓️‍💥⛓️⛓️‍💥⛓️⛓️‍💥⛓️⛓️‍💥⛓️⛓️‍💥⛓️⛓️‍💥⛓️⛓️‍💥⛓️⛓️‍💥⛓️⛓️‍💥

Musty, dark, dead. The bowels of the Red Wizard’s tower are worse than a dungeon. Not a speck of light, no slight hint of breeze. It is a tomb. A coffin. And inside somewhere is your love.

You can feel him, his blood calling to you, even as his mind has unraveled these long weeks of capture. You get fleeting images of his senses: the wide-eyed fear in his chest to be imprisoned in the dark. Away from his beloved sun. The racing pant of his breath to be so enclosed, not unlike that year he never speaks of under Cazador’s torment. Locked away. You feel the stinging of silver chains gnawing at his flesh, burning just enough to sap his strength, but not so strong as to kill him.

This was meant for pain, constructed for punishment, to hold him until his enemies would kill him. Your beloved. Your lord and king and master, overthrown by his foolish need for more power. You told him not to go alone to seek the remnants of the Red Wizards of Thay… you warned him they would want their tome returned and would punish him for knowledge of it.

Even the decrepit remnants of a failed cult can win from time to time.

Your chest burns as you try to catch your breath, your skin and armor slick with the blood of your enemies. But your feet propel forward regardless, pulled by the tether of your bond to Astarion.

You heave a sigh of relief to finally find the cells, thick black doors almost indecipherable in the darkness. A little daylight spell, and your eyes adjust to find a dozen doors carved from the bedrock of this damnable tower. The rattling of metal links, the rough snarls of breath grows louder as you close your eyes and follow the ragged beat of his ascended heart.

Hand shaking, you pull out a Knock spell scroll, a sigh of relief that your own Wizard companion of old had prepared you to take on these foes. Even as your fingers stick to the parchment, hands soaked in blood, you recite the word, and the edge of the cell door glows bright white for a moment.

Resonant, it creaks open on its ancient hinges, revealing a pair of glowing red eyes and the crescendo of dry-throated breath. His body drags across the floor towards your daylight, and your heart bursts with ache to finally see him again. Tears sting your eyes.

Paperwhite and beyond deathly pale, his gaunt face leers at you from the darkness. Lines of red, of raw flesh cross his neck and bare arms and legs where he has been chained.

Chained naked.

Your bile rises in your stomach as you curse his captors souls, glad you have already put those Wizards to a bloody, eviscerating death. You’d do it all again, just to punish them for how they’ve tortured your love. Breathing his name, you enter his cell, the walls of black stone absorbing the light of your spell, it seems. But it gives off enough for you to see every line of his hollowed face, every crest of his bony frame.

Astarion twists against his chains, his mind a pulsing mess of feelings and words, too feral to even speak yet. But one word comes across clearly.

Blood.

His nostrils flare, his tongue dangling over his fangs as he scans your spattered armor. A predator with the scent of prey in his nose.

There’s blood in the air…

He’s too hungry, too starved for blood and for you to be safe. Not with they way his eyes are wild and his tongue laps at his jaw. “Astarion,” you speak, making his black-blown eyes focus on you. “I’m here my love,” you reach a hand out to caress his silver hair, but he just snaps his fangs at you once you're in reach. Those silver chains holding him just shy of disaster.

“Naughty,” you try to chide him, but the humor is lost on his hungry body and soul. Mind racing, your feet race faster, hands finding the closest fallen enemy to drag it back after you down the hall. Then you leave it, ignoring the muffled grunts and growls and slurps he makes as he drains the corpse completely.

When you glance back inside, he looks at you, steadier, calmer, and covered in blood. He still crouches on the ground, hands and feet and neck bound, but now he croaks your name. “Darling,” his voice pains you with recognition, “I knew you’d come.”

You hurry to his side, kicking that light, bloodless corpse to the side. The silver chains at his ankles sting you, but it’s nothing compared to the pain of separation you have endured for weeks. You pull the silver apart in your hands, freeing his legs so he can stretch them out at long last.

A deep grunt of relief sounds from his chest. Your hands work up and down one leg, then the other, trying to soothe the tension and numbness and blood flow.

As you reach the top of his thighs, you withdraw in surprise. His cock achingly hard, juts against his belly, twitching and pink and… happy to see you too.

“I have missed you,” his voice caresses your ear and rushes down your spine, the chains at his neck clinking their high-pitched music as he leans against you. Nose buried in your hair, he inhales your scent like a drowning man gasps for air. “I can’t wait another moment, my love.” His voice unearthly, barely more than a growl, his hands chained near his belly reach into your armor.

You notice his nails, literally clawing for you, seeking your flesh. Nails, so long unkempt, have taken on their wild form, the razor sharp talons of a vampire lord. “I was so worried…. I missed you, my love,” you sigh, an edge of fear in your belly as you long to kiss those bloodstained lips with your own. Ignoring the sting, you grab the silver chain, a little yank to tug at him, making a playful, aroused smirk turn his dripping, scarlet lips as his body draws closer.

“I am master of myself once more,” his brows cant rakishly, even in the dark. “I won’t bite unless you ask very… very… nicely,” he croons straining against your leash.

“Oh, I think you're asking for more than a nibble,” you tease to release some of the fear that still lingers in your veins. Never have you been separated from him since you turned, and never, not even during the Rite of Ascension and your fight against his old master have you feared his death more than these past weeks. Floodgates break, your need to touch him and taste him overpowering all logic and fear.

Your fingers work quickly, unlatching your breastplate and cuisses, eyes locked into his as he watches your every move, tongue licking the blood from the corner of his mouth absentmindedly. You let the metal clang to the floor. Those two restrained hands extend for you, making the chains around his arms hiss as the magic sears more into his flesh anew.

“Hold still,” you order, crouching to grab the chains and tug them free from his flesh, his wounds instantly closing up now that he is well-fed once more.

For all the pain that must be lancing through his body, he just holds your stare with his own, sultry and feral and commanding. “Now, where were we?” he purrs, hands trembling to finally touch your body. Even with sapped strength, he pulls you flush against him, bringing you close. Slotting you in your place against his body. Those blood-caked claws dig into the supple cover of your leathers, tearing through it at your hips and down the seams as though they are paper. You’ll worry about decency later, for now you’re of one mind, unable to think until you’ve joined again.

You sink your body onto his cock, and he sinks his fangs into your blood-spattered neck. Your groans bounce off the pitch black walls, a roar of bliss and relief and release. No more fear or danger, aside from the fear of coming too quickly and the danger of spending hours fucking once more, covered in the drying gore of your foes.

The thought tickles from your mind to his, and he laughs as he thrusts up into you. “Just like old times,” he rasps between swallows from your neck.

Like old times, like every time, your body follows its instincts, finally filled with what you have most craved. His cock stretches you, a nearly unfamiliar pressure once more, but you hardly notice, not with how dripping wet you’ve become just to feel his breath on your neck and savor his muscled frame thrusting into you.

Tears prick at your eyes but you won’t let them wash that blood from your cheeks. No, you just grip into his hair, pulling his mouth from the puncture wounds in your neck to your own waiting lips. The copper tang of your blood floods your mouth as his tongue sweeps inside, the familiar taste of your own blood mixing with the nasty pollution of your enemies’ he drained earlier.

It sours your stomach, the taste, but you’re too lost in the way his breath warms you, inside and out. Those long, feral nails score into your back, wandering quickly between your writhing bodies. With low, rumbling growls into your mouth, he grips your waist, moving you and holding you in place as he fucks harder. More erratic. More hellsbent on that release he needs.

His voice fills your ear, “My Consort, my love, my pet, my saviour,” he pours your beloved epithets over you, breath ragged and out of synch with his roughly snapping hips. One hand lies splayed on the stone behind him, that extra leverage driving him deeper with abandon. He’s thickening inside you, so hot and too quickly.

“Don’t get carried away,” you chide, yanking at the chain around his neck, making his crimson eyes stare at you with lust-blown pupils. “You haven’t even given me a reward yet for my daring bravery, my love.” You make him hiss, his slack mouth baring his fangs in pleasure-ridden pain. “And you haven’t even granted me an apology for running headlong into this… foolishness,” you cock your chin and tug his chain-leash again. “Promise me, no more ludicrous missions without me.”

He growls but nods, hands digging at your ass, not one hint of resistance.

“Then I’m satisfied, well…” you wriggle, clenching your walls on his throbbing cock inside you, “soon to be satisfied.” A laugh shared on both your panting lips, you ride his lap, bringing him back under a steady rhythm, drawing out his pleasure until you’ve had yours as well. He pulls against his last remaining chain, and you tut your tongue. One of your hands brings his fingers into the apex of your thighs, coaxing his finger to circle your clit with every buck. Your other hand releases that leash, freeing it from his flesh at last so you can grab his chin. Then you lick… long and cleansing, tasting the remnants of your blood, and your enemies’, and faint traces of his own.

That warm tip of his tongue laps at the corner of his lips, his breath heavy as he feels your walls fluttering around his cock. Spine arching, hips canting fervently, you scream for him, tears in your throat and down your face at last, as if you didn’t believe you’d ever be brought to orgasm by him again. Sharp nails score into the sensitive flesh of your folds, hips slamming into your last waves of pleasure as he spills inside you, spurt after spurt of his seed filling you and leaking to the prison floor beneath you both.

Crimson eyes glance up at you, wild and sated, hungry and happy all at once. “Get me home, my Consort,” he whispers. “You’ll be coming on my cock in our bed next.”

You smirk, breathless, pulling out a scroll to open a portal to your palace. As you stand, you kick the chains at your feet with your boot, thankful he’s released into your care once more.

⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️

💞 to @marimosalad and @nyx-knox

[hwathwugu]

Siblings, siblings, siblings, siblings!

[kotalloh]

REBELCAPTAINWEEK DAY 1: SIGNIFICANT MOMENTS (insp)

[andy-clutterbuck]

The Ones Who Live | 1x06

[doccywhomst]

died 2013 born 1999 welcome back eighth dr who

[fuzzyhairedfreak]

um uh uh um. so. did anyone else used to follow Nate Stevenson's D&D campaign drawings back in the day or-

[lululeighsworld]

it was literally their moment and they just let us watch

(if you need me i'll be marinating in this for the foreseeable future)

[batcavescolony]

S2 of the X-Men is so funny cus it's just

X-Men: I really wish Xavier was here, we have no idea where he went. We could really use his help here.

Xavier: *in the savage lands with his boyfriend Magneto*

[jojobaaaa]

Jedha.

[shierak-inavva]

it’s been so hot lately i’m daydreaming about winter 😭

[thenotoriousscuttlecliff]

Seeing people say that we never see the Doctor and Ruby talking for more than 30 seconds makes me think 73 Yards and Dot and Bubble has just clouded their memories because the first four episodes of this era are almost nothing but the Doctor and Ruby talking and bonding.

Yeah, the Doctor-lite episodes meant we haven't had as much lately, but so many are going on as there's been none at all, as if every episode before 73 Yards was like Rogue where they were mostly separated in their own plotlines.

[pursuitseternal]

Can I get “Do your worst” for Ascended Astarion x f!tav please? Bonus points if you can get some bdsm in there 🥵

“Do your worst…”

Also now published as: “Choke Me” update for “The Rogue You Were”

Ascended Astarion x f!Reader | Smut Ask fill

CW: BDSM, collar and leash, breath play, choking, spanking, Elven erogenous zones

It started after dinner, you decided to spend your evening in the library tonight, a roaring fire in the grate and books pressed to your faces. Lounging on top of one another on the couch, you stroke his soft silver curls as he rests his head in your lap.

You can feel his warmth through your thin silk skirt, his fingers tracing the seams of your skirt. His book rests in his hands, propped up on his belly, his back resting between the length of your extended legs.

If you close your eyes and ignore the fact your heart barely beats and your skin is corpse cold, it’s almost as if you’re back in the camp on those long, star-kissed nights. Just you… and your Rogue, curled by the fire in the comfort of his tent.

Every soft ambient sound is identical, the crackle of the fire, the whisper of pages as they turn, the soft wash of breath as he sighs and settles tighter against you.

For that moment, you forget that he is your Sire, the Vampire Ascendant.

You swallow, your throat pulsing against his latest gift, a tight fitting necklace that hugs every sinew of your neck. Black velvet ribbon and shining mithral chains. Costly. Precious. And dear.

Just like you, Astarion had said as he closed it around your neck, adjusting that encrusted ring between the chains just so…

Your fingers fidget with those chains now, the sharp, small metallic sounds making Astarion’s pointy ears twitch. “Enjoying your newest gift, little love?” he purrs, eyes still scanning the page of his book.

But somehow you can feel every tendon and sinew in his body coiling, readying to pounce.

“It’s elegant,” you reply, slipping a finger beneath the heavy chains. “But it is a bit tight.”

“Just tight enough to remind you,” he trails off, eyes flashing their crimson gaze towards you, upside down, before turning back to his page.

“Remind me of what?” you ask, almost absentmindedly, your eyes focused on the next few lines of your novel. You raise its soft little cover up in one hand, the plot thickens the more you read… and you can sense a nice smut scene about to unfold on your pages…

You didn’t hear his low voice through the cover…. Until he clears his throat with a noise, almost a snarl. An unamused one.

“Oh, my darling, please don’t tell me you’re ignoring me for some… fictional romance,” his voice whines in silken tones to shroud his suspicion.

Your heart leaps into your throat as he snaps his book shut. Pale fingers curl over the top of your novel as Astarion pulls it, revealing your now blushing face. White hot shame at being caught colors even your undead complexion.

You look down at him, his face upside down as he lies nestled in your skirts. From this angle, his smile is uncanny, that sly fang-glinting smirk that instantly makes you wet. And by the way his nostrils flare, he can scent it already.

It only makes that insufferable grin twist all the more rakish.

Deft fingers pry your smutty novel from your eager hands, setting it on the expanse of his belly. “I said…” he begins, that tone already low and threatening in the best possible way, “your necklace… your collar is to remind you to whom you belong, my treasure.” He frowns, pouting, at least you think he does, it’s disorienting to look at him topsy turvy on your lap. “Tch, not off to a great or convincing start, little love.”

You roll your eyes, reaching for your book… only to have his fingers snap shut around your wrist. He keeps you there, hand suspended in one grip. His other hand reaches slowly to stroke the sensitive flesh of your neck, teasing and dipping beneath the soft ribbon and hard links of your necklace.

Your collar, he called it.

“Ah, ah,” he mocks in that chiding tone. “You haven’t earned your little escapism back yet. You might not ever,” he warns. “You think I’m happy letting your mind dwell on some dashing hero that lives on a page?” He pouts his thick lips before he licks them. “Are my words not enough for you?”

You blush, staring at him teasing at you from the middle of your silken skirts.

“Your blush betrays you, little love,” he purrs. “Seems you need reminding that what you have with me will satisfy you better than any man in your mind.”

“I don’t know,” you can’t help but tease back, “I have a very vivid imagina—”

That last word is swallowed as his fingers find the ring in your necklace and pull.

Hells… that tight little necklace locks around your throat, a steely caress of velvet and precious metal that makes your slow undead pulse pound in your ears. You gasp for air you don’t need, panic setting in regardless.

Astarion gives that low, wicked, rolling chuckle. “Should we test my imagination, darling?” he croons, pulling your collar just a smidge tighter as he sits up. He towers over you, pinning your thighs beneath his legs as he straddles you. “All that reading… I hope you can keep up with what I have planned for you in reality,” he taunts, tugging on your collar on the last word.

Your stomach blazes with need, hot desire running through your veins at breakneck speed. Even though you technically don’t need to breathe, your eyes are wide with the thrill of being controlled, your lungs burn at the foreign sensation of being stifled so thoroughly.

He pulls you by your collar, stopping only once your nose presses against his. That paper bound novel of yours in his hand, he waves it next to your head, pinching its offending existence between his fingers. “Perhaps we can repurpose this as a part of your reminder?”

“Hmm,” you feel bold, invincible, now that you have settled into the dull ache of pain and let it inspire you, making your hungry nerves crave more. “Do your worst…”

“Oh you know me, my treasure,” he growls, lips pressed into your ear, fangs scoring on your neck, “I only give you my very best.”

His rumbling laugh, low in his belly, inundates your senses. Yanking you by your collar, you gulp and gag at the force. Eyes shut from the pain, you slowly realize he’s laid you out over the couch’s arm. Vauguely something metallic clicks behind your head, and it’s only after he pulls you taut, bending you back by your collar do you realize he’s attached something to that ring.

A leash, a simple chain of matching shining bright metal he’s still fishing entirely out of his pocket. The links jingle merrily, your only warning before he pulls it tight. “My pretty consort,” he purrs, “I don’t like to see worry cast so on your face. Fear not,” his warm touch lifts your skirts up to bare your ass, “you are mine.”

The metal tugs your head to the side as he bends down, reverencing your ass cheeks with a few blunt-toothed kisses. Nothing to break the skin. Just enough to make you sigh some strangled moans.

Warm, dexterous digits slide their way beneath the gusset of your underwear to tease out that slick he’s been smelling. “Mmmm,” he purrs, “I hope this is all for me and not from that filthy smut you’ve been indulging in without me.” You hear it, that wet slick of his fingers crooking inside you, aiming for that spot that makes your thighs tremble instantly.

“Now, pet,” he sniggers at the moniker, easing your leash to give it a waggle. Just for effect. “Let’s repurpose this novel of yours. After all, if you can find enjoyment in its pages, perhaps I can too…” He tests the weight of it in his grip, the other hand pulling you by your leash and collar to make you strain upwards just slightly. “You asked for my worst, but you are only worthy of my best, darling…”

Smack. Your body jolts, pain-pleasure racing up your spine as the book connects with your rear. A little moaned grunt slips from your lips.

“What was that, my dear? Good enough for you?” he purrs, rubbing the reddening mark on your backside.

You hang your head, laughing breathlessly. “If I said no…” you leave the question unfinished.

He gives a little growl of disapproval, arm swinging back to land your little novel square on the other cheek. Harder this time, you yelp as your body lurches forward.

A smooth tug on your leash guides your face next to his, your lithe back bending as he whispers in your ear. The wash of his warm breath tickles. “Now, little love, good enough at last? Or does the man on these pages still hold sway?”

Leaning against his mouth you sigh, “It’s very good, but I think I’m missing something. My void is aching to be filled… I feel desperate with wanton need… pulsing, throbbing, leaking…”

“Hells below, my dear, is this the kind of drivel you’re consuming?” He chides you as he tosses the book down on the couch. “Well, if you’re wanton hole needs serving, I’d be a cad not to comply. No fictional man will get the better of me,” he chuckles.

You hear it, feel it. His free hand easing his trousers open enough for his cock to spring free. Your hands brace on the arm of the couch, your clothing too tight. You curse that silk on your torso, the bodice that pinches your breasts and irritates your skin.

Only your legs and ass are bare, free for his touch and his tongue. Warm breath washes over your cunt first, and you know he’s pulling out all his tricks to impress you, to distract you from your smutty little novel. Fingers tease at your clit, his skilled tongue lapping in and out of your channel, while you let out a string of colorful curses and florid language.

His laughter vibrates into your cunt, wetness dripping down your thigh. Spit… slick… you can’t tell any longer what’s seeping as his tongue fucks in and out, in perfect rhythm with his fingers as they circle your bud.

Heat coils in your belly, flooding your muscles with ungodly fire and need. Close, so close, you pant as just the right teasing pressure grazes your clit….

…until it all disappears. You scream in frustration. Your hips buck and grind into nothing

Hirrrk… you gag and groan at once as he pulls you by that jingling leash until you land, splayed on your back. Satisfied as you catch your breath he grins at you. You are a mess across the couch. A small mercy, he lets go of your leash and tosses those metal links to rest beside you. “Be a good pet,” he purrs, “and spread those legs for me again….” He cages you in, a wicked smile and arching brows as he hovers over you. “Unless you’d rather enjoy your… fictional pleasures?”

His finger slips inside your necklace, easing the chain apart as he settles comfortably between your thighs. Finally you can swallow and take a deep gulp of air. The relief on your face makes him leer, capturing your softly smiling lips in a kiss. He’s tender and slow, the warm tip of his tongue tracing your lips. As you part them, you taste the tang of your own slick. A hum escapes your throat, and you match the daring darts of this tongue with your own. Your hunger for him eagerly rises, hands pulling on the soft velvet of his breeches, gripping the backs of his thighs to bring him closer.

To guide his cock where you are aching for him.

“You haven’t even asked me once what I was reading about,” you rasp, taunting him with a mischievous tone. “You didn’t even notice its main hero is an elf…”

Those silver brows twist, canting in all their rakish glory. “Is that so?” he purrs, grinding the long shaft of his cock up and down your seam. “Was my little love being a quick study? Care to share your…”

Your fingers brush the shells of his ears, both at once. His cock twitches so hard between you, you can feel the precum leaking onto your belly.

“Hells,” he groans. But you’re not done. One hand at the back of his head, you turn him quickly, taking that soft flesh of his earlobe and sucking it loudly between your smirking lips.

The whimper from his mouth is divine, the shudders that race down his spine ripple in time with the jerks of his cock again.

Quickly, you slot him inside you, eliciting the loudest snarl from him you have ever heard. His hips move quickly, snapping into you, already so close to his release. “Godsdammit, darling,” he hisses even as you keep your lips tracing the shell of his ear. “I’m the one who should be…”

You suckle the soft curve of his ear again, nibbling your way to the tip. The faintest brush of your tongue on his precious, pointy ear has him shuddering and slamming into you with erratic abandon. “I… can’t…” he pants, breathing through his fangs clenched tightly. With one last curse on his own choking breath, he thrusts home, warm cum spurting deep inside you as he convulses and crushes you, the throbbing of his cock in your walls enough to throw you into your own orgasmic oblivion.

Pleasure tears through you, blistering hot as every muscle goes taut. Shaking, panting, you grip around his head, careful not to bite his ear in your fangs.

With one final graze of your teeth on his fleshy earlobe, you relax. You feel him shiver and swallow one last exhausted whimper as he lays all his weight on you.

A few breaths, and all is again as it once was—a warm, post-coital embrace. Wet. Hot. And wordlessly brimming with love.

Something prods at your hip beneath you, and fetching it, you realize it’s your novel. Reaching around his mussy curls, you find your page, fully aware that he’s still hard and seated deep inside you.

He makes no complaint now as you pick up right where you left off. Only his breathing grows steady, his head nuzzling into your neck as his fingers trace the fine metal of your collar. He mumbles something into the hollow of your throat. “What was that?” you reply, as if this was the most mundane evening in existence.

His voice is slurred, worn out from the intensity of his pleasure, and it makes you grin as he rasps, “You certainly did your worst, my darling, and I loved it…”

[lordbucketofthecaribbean]

X-Men people how are we doing

I personally am not ok.

[ijustthinkhesneat]

I’m an Alfred/Martha/Thomas truther. Like Alfred is a baddie in his 80s you all know he must have been a slice back in the day. And it is canon Martha and Thomas were smoke shows.

Like let hot people get it. Let hot men kiss while their wife turns mobsters kneecaps into flour with a baseball bat.

[xysidhequeen]

It’s getting late (for me that is) but what about Jason first meeting with the rest of the council (Frostbite, Clockwork, Pandora and etc)?

You mean: Abominable Snowman, Benjamin Button and Mommy-sorry Step On Me? (Jason's crush on Wonder Woman did in fact transfer to Pandora)

Jason generally likes all of the council, and all of the council likes him in turn because he makes Danny happy.

He met Frostbite first. Danny took him to the Far Frozen to get checked out and to be sure the Baby Ghost was healthy and stuff. Jason had been forewarned and honestly, by that point, yetis were just one of those 'yeah that tracks' moments for Jason. Jason asked Frostbite, as a joke, if he could give him a piggyback ride. Frostbite picked him up, plunked him on his shoulder and booked it. 10/10 Jason had the BEST time. Definitely his favorite doctor.

Clockwork he met next, and it basically went:

Clockwork: I see you found your knight young king.

Danny: Yeah, thanks for WARNING ME

Jason: Who the is this fucker?

Danny: imagine a grandpa given unlimited power over time but retaining the 'stay off my lawn' energy but towards the time stream.

Jason: Ah

Clockwork: Wonderful. Off you two go

He then yeeted (yote?) Them through a portal because a member of the Flash Fam had severely fucked the timestream doing speedster shit. Luckily CW had smashed a hat on Jason's head first and he was in human form so the Flash fam member didn't recognize him. They were a bit too occupied with Danny yelling at them for fucking up and ripping them out of the speed force. The Flash fam member bought them lunch. (This was not the first or last time CW sent Danny to deal with the Flashes. They knew of him, and were all more than a little frightened of Danny. They think he's like. A speedforce demon or something. Theyre glad he eats burgers and not their souls) it was fun, even if they were stuck in the 40s for a bit until they cleaned everything up and got the Flash fam member back in the proper timeline. (You can imagine this as any of the Flash fam)

Jason met Pandora when she came to spar with Danny. And he just. Instant puppy crush. He watched this Amazonian woman beat the snot out of Danny and it was the best day of his life. If Fright Knight hadn't already claimed him as a protégé he would've been begging Pandora to train him. She thinks Jason is cute and is always happy to spar with him when she's around.

[dfilms]

Glynis Johns

1923-2024