#✶ ━━ DYNAMICS. { bus kids. }

[antleredweirdo]

Danny is like that one feral stray cat that follows Waylon around and I will stand by that fact

[burstfoot]

Hey, has anyone who's seen I Saw The TV Glow seen any good articles/posts discussing the themes of femininity/womanhood or specifically transfeminity in the movie? I want to read some analysis from that perspective but most of the analysis I can find is taking the approach of like, "transness" as an all-encompassing experience (or even from the experiences of trans men and non-binary people) & I think I'd really like to read something specifically focused on that aspect considering the protagonist is transfem herself

[add1ctedt0you]

The Untamed

Hearing this, he spat, "Fooling around again! Your sect leader, I, has already poured you a bowl and put it outside. Kneel for me to express your gratitude and go drinking your soup outside."

Wei Wuxian skipped outside before he turned around and came back, "What do you mean by this, Jiang Cheng? Where's the meat?"

Jiang Cheng, "Finished it. There're only lotus roots left. Don't eat them if you don't want to."

Wei Wuxian attacked with his elbow, "Spit out the meat!"

Jiang Cheng, "No objections. I'll spit them out and let's see if you'll eat them!"

Seeing that they started to argue again, Jiang Yanli quickly interrupted, "Okay, okay. How old are you two, fighting over some meat? I'll just make another jar..."

The lotus pork rib soup that Jiang Yanli made was Wei Wuxian's favorite.

Aside from how it was really delicious, it was also because he'd always recall what happened the first time, he had it.

[...]

Having stayed up for almost half of the night, the two had grown hungry as well. And so, Jiang Yanli went to the kitchen and busied herself for a while, standing on tiptoe. She warned up a bowl of lotus pork rib soup for each of them. The aroma wrapped itself around his heart, lingering.

The Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation - Chapter 71-Departure - Part 3

[amor-immortalem]

Azalea’s new haircut

Do you really have siblings if you’re not taking the time to tease them with things they don’t wanna hear?

[artbyblastweave]

There was a kids series I saw in a library once, which I never read and which I don’t remember the title of, but the central conceit of which stuck in my brain. The conceit was that there was a secret eighth day of the week only experienced by a small subset of the population, and that day was when the monsters and fantasy shit existed. Which is a fantastic concept. First off it neatly snips one of the big issues of kids fantasy because the masquerade is inherently self-reinforcing- and even if it did somehow become known that there was a secret eighth day, the ripple effects that that would cause in the rest of the week wouldn’t take the world too far away from what we’d consider recognizable. Second, it enforces the common kidslit trope of “wake up, go to school, save the world”- while a series like Animorphs is at least in part about how maintaining that separation would be untenable, part of what’s surreal about this conceit is that you’re never going to get away from the mundane world in a way that matters- you’re spending seven-eighths of your life there, the mundane school crap you’re dealing with on Monday is still going to affect you going forwards even when Unsday rolls around. And third, it allows for a real scattershot selection of who in the protagonists life gets to be in on it and who’s out, which leads to fun dynamics. Your best friend doesn’t get to come on your adventure but you see your Vice principal in there, and he sees you. Your crotchety old neighbor, the woman you see on the bus but never speak to, your uncle but not the one you’re particularly close with. A whole wainscot society with completely arbitrary membership, resulting in unlikely relationships which can then bleed into the mundane world in interesting ways.

[thenightwolf51]

So i originally had this idea when i reblogged this post by @saphushia but i wanna just seperate it out as its own little prompt.

A quick context is that Danny seems to be roaming around Gotham like some homeless cryptid, kinda Bus to Nowhere style but with more vigilante interaction and casual offerings of first aid. And the batkids are keeping their adoption bait First Aid Cryptid(tm) secret from Batman.

One set of tags in the reblogs from @little-pondhead caught my attention

I came up with both funny answers and an angsty answer for that "#why?" but here's the angsty one (though i promice i actually envision it to be more hurt/comfort with a lot of family fluff)

Actual Prompt⬇️⬇️

Something happens, maybe a reveal gone wrong, maybe he got capture by the GIW, maybe he lost Jazz and his parents somehow.

Whatever it is, it leaves Danny with a need to escaped to a new dimension which just so happens to end up being the DCU. He winds up in Gotham and is just trying to start over, easier said than done but at there's plenty of heros around so he doesn't need to go ghost and he can still patch up the local vigilantes to feed his obsession. He's just not up to being Phantom yet and he's still recovering from whatever happened in Amity, whether it be mentally or physically.

Plus these vigilantes are kinda fun to mess with. Danny can practically see the gears turning as they try to put together and make sense of his little "lore drops", that Red Robin almost reminds him of Wes in a way.

Its not like he really needs to hide anyways. There's no GIW here, no Anti-Ecto Acts, if it really comes down to it he could probably pass as meta and fall under those protection laws. Judging by Signal, Danny's pretty sure Batman's bluffing on the whole "hating metas" thing anyways.

It takes awhile before Danny actually does meet the big bat himself and the reaction he gets is nothing anyone was expecting.

You see theres one little detail danny couldn't have been warned about, and its that there just so happens to be a version of Jazz here.

Except this Jazz lost her Danny when they were in high school, as in full on dead and gone Danny, no halfas here, the portal simply did not work and it was just regular ole lethal electrocution that hit her little brother.

What if she grew up with a young Bruce somehow, whether it be because CPS took her from the Fentons after her Danny's death or Amity Park simply doesn't exist in the DCU making Gotham the city with the thinnest veil and thus where the Fenton's chose to settle down.

This Jazz is an adult in her 40s but was once a kid smart enough to go to Gotham Academy on scholarship (or maybe the Fenton's had enough money from patents?). A kid who took one look at young Bruce's grumpy little face and decided he needed a honest friend, one that wasn't after status or money.

This Jazz grew up being a secondary voice of reason for Bruce, ganging up with Alfred in their own crusade to enforce healthy habits on him in between their weekly tea sessions.

This Jazz lost her brother and could not only understand Bruce's resoning on a minor level but encouraged his planned "journey of self discovery and healing". (Though the bat costume he made when he came back was unexpected and she gave him a look to rival Alfred for it)

This Jazz grew up to be a social worker because if anyone had cared enough to take her away from the Fenton's sooner then her brother might've still been alive

This Jazz being the one Bruce calls when he first gets Dick because holy shit he has no idea what hes doing and "Jazz, i just became a father, help!"

This Jazz being a sort of aunt to all the Batkids and is a major influence that has led to their dynamics being similar to Wayne Family Adventures

Bruce goes pale and later calls Jazz after he finally gets a glimps/meets the so called "First Aid Cryptid" his kids have been obsessed with. Because this kid that he's looking at with the barely visible lichtenberg scars... that's a face he hasn't seen in little over 20 years, that's his old friend's long dead baby brother.

Bruce sees danny and his mind rapidly jumps to all sorts of possibilities. Is this a clone? Is this a trap? Are the Lazarus pits involved somehow? Time travel? He does consider a ghost but this kid is too solid and they're nowhere near the old dilapidated Fenton Works building

Eventually, down the line when they get the full story of Danny being from an alternate dimension, Jazz might try to adopt him. Which has potential to be unhealthy but i fully believe Jazz would be aware enough not to project her decades old grief on this Danny, who is so similar but so different to her brother.

(Because I think a Gotham raised Danny would've been similar to a young Jason in street smarts so this Amity raised Danny is noticeably different)

Danny on the other hand... not sure if i could say the same, especially if he just lost his Jazz before winding up in the DCU. But again, this is an adult Jazz in her late 40s with professional experience dealing with traumatized kids, and she'll do her best to help him through it

Im imagining Jazz and Bruce to have a more platonic friendship, maybe even see each other as family, but you could go with Parent Syndrome if you want

(And because i love to see other peoples ideas and opinions, @omnicrafts @ailithnight @atiyasnake @hdgnj @nelkcats @nerdpoe @im-totally-not-an-alien-2 @dcxdpdabbles. Sorry i tag you guys so much but i like your writing, im eager to offer ideas, and your posts have been major sources of joy while ive been hyperfixating on DPxDC)

[nvareim]

bite me, v. garza x fem! reader

tags; predator/prey, fearplay, dacryphilia, degradation, drugging, thigh riding, stalking, dubcon and toxic dynamics. MDNI w/c; 4.4k ao3 link | pinterest board a/n; never arguining with a woman with big brown eyes, whatever u say gorgeous

The streets of Las Almas are still blood-stained the day you escape.

It’s been quieter since the Shadows combed through the city, killing anything that moved. The dogs no longer bark, kids don’t play in the streets, and the armed men who roamed every alley are few and far between. It’s the perfect opening. You spend the morning preparing. 

You pack lightly, only the things you’re sure you’ll need. Clothing for layering, socks, underwear, and cash. It all fits nicely in a backpack you can easily carry. You leave both of your phones on the nightstand, the backs pried off and batteries neatly stacked atop each other. 

The better part of an hour is spent prying at the metal collar around your neck. You pry at the latch until your fingers are bloody, picking at the screw that holds it together. As a last resort, you use the point of a utility knife. You sit just inches away from the mirror, neck twisted at an uncomfortable angle as you slowly unscrew the locking mechanism. You’re stock-still, barely breathing out of fear the blade will slip. 

 The second the collar unlatches, you rip it from around your neck and throw it aside. It slides across the floor, hitting the baseboard with a heavy thud. You take deep, ragged breaths as you study your reflection. The lack of weight around your neck is foreign. With it gone, your decision is final. There’s no turning back now.

Las Almas is teeming with Mexican soldiers. They pace the Greyhound station, X12s strapped to their thighs and rifles slung across their chests. Their watchful eyes follow you as you pay for your ticket in cash with shaky hands. The old woman in the booth hardly scrutinizes your forged papers, clicking away at her keyboard as she logs information. She slides your ticket through the opening in the plexiglass, wishing you a safe trip. 

You practically fall onto a bench, sighing as you hug your bag close to your body. Rain pours down from the roof, streaming toward the storm drains. The air is thick and warm with moisture, heavy on your skin. You bounce your knee nervously as you wait for the bus to round the corner. 

When it does arrive, you’re the first to board. You snag a window seat at the very back where you can watch every passenger enter. You hold your breath with each new rider, nervously anticipating Valeria or one of her men to be the next passenger. It isn’t until the bus is pulling away from Las Almas that you feel the weight lift from your chest, though just barely.

Your journey north becomes a slow crawl. The best ticket you could afford brought you just north of Denver. The rest of your cash is rationed out and stuffed beneath your clothing.

In the beginning, the kiss of cool air against your skin is refreshing. It’s a welcome reprieve from the sweltering Mexican heat. A reminder of how far you’ve gotten. But the novelty quickly wears off once the slight chill turns unforgiving. You attempt to adapt by picking up a free coat from a local church and bartering over warmer clothes from thrift stores, but they only do so much to protect you from the bitter cold. Homeless shelters aren’t an option, the lines are longer as the dead of winter draws nearer. By the time you reach Wyoming, you’re running low on money to spend. You resort to stealing food from gas stations and sleeping in alleyways. You spend your days in local libraries, reevaluating your route north and searching for updates on Valeria. Librarians typically quirk a brow at your peculiar behavior, but leave you alone until they close down for the night. 

As the nights grow longer, they become even more difficult to get through. You curl yourself into a ball, your money stuffed into the band of your bra and a knife clutched tightly in your hand lest anyone gets any ideas. Hostels are few and far between and only reserved for nights you’d surely die if you slept outside. 

In early December, you spend a decent chunk of your food budget on a cheap motel room. It’s a shady establishment just outside of a small city, the kind of place you pay for by the hour. Snow flutters down and gathers in the parking lot, the pure white flakes quickly soiled by the gravel beneath. Multicolored Christmas lights are wrapped around the wrought iron railings in honor of the upcoming holiday. A few women smoke in the shadows of the building, seemingly huddling together for warmth. 

Inside the room, The wallpaper peels away to reveal yellow-stained drywall beneath and the heating unit rattles when you turn it on, blowing a small cloud of dust into the room. You refuse to peel away the comforter out of fear of what you’ll find, so you toss a blanket overtop instead. The lingering stench of cigarette smoke and artificial lemon is nearly caustic. 

 You turn the TV on, upping the volume until it’s loud enough to drown out the noise of the heater. The throw beneath you is scratchy and thin, but the bed itself is comfortable enough that you allow yourself to sink into it. With so many miles between you and Valeria, it’s easy to lull yourself into a sense of false security.

You shrug your jacket off to use as a makeshift pillow. It’s a far cry from Valeria’s luxurious bed back in Las Almas, but it’s the best you’ve had in weeks. The steady flow of warm air filling the room thaws the stiff joints in your limbs and loosens the long-held tension in your shoulders. It’s easy to fully settle into the makeshift pillow, eyes fluttering shut in bliss. It’s the best sleep you’ve gotten in weeks.

It’s pin-drop quiet when you wake up. The constant hum of the heating unit has ceased, though the room has long gone cool. The TV had been shut off, leaving the room completely dark. 

You blink away the last bits of sleep from your eyes, willing your vision to focus. Something primal stirs in your gut, fight or flight instincts urging you to move. The darkness comes into focus slowly, the shape of the furniture comes into focus. So does a figure sitting at the foot of the bed. 

Your blood freezes in your veins. You push yourself up from the bed, heart pounding in your ears. A firm hand wraps around your upper arm, throwing you back into the mattress. The springs squeak from the force. You kick and thrash in Valeria’s hold, desperate to land at least one hit. You refuse to go down without a fight, not after all you’ve been through. You manage to land a single scratch across her cheek. Blood bubbles up from her skin, smearing onto your fingers and her face when you push her away. 

One of her hands pins both your wrists to your sternum as she bears down on you. Her knees press into the mattress on either side of you, caging you in place. You take in a gasping breath, lungs struggling to expand under her weight. For the first time, you get a good look at Valeria and what you see terrifies you. There’s a feral glint to her eyes and not a bit of playfulness in her smile. Your heart pounds against your ribcage like a rabbit. 

“You scream and I’ll gut anyone who comes in that door,” Valeria hisses, hand tightening around your wrists as she wraps a zip tie around them. Tears spill from your waterline as composure crumbles. The edge of the tie presses into your skin uncomfortably, but Valeria doesn’t soften at your whining.

“It was a fun chase, sweetheart, but it’s over,” She fishes a small bag from her pants pocket, shaking a small white pill into her palm. Valeria holds it to your lips with one hand, the other pinching your nose shut. You go as long as you can without air, stubbornly clenching your jaw shut until your lungs burn. 

Valeria watches with interest, grinning as the seconds tick by. You barely make it a minute before you’re gasping for air. Valeria doesn’t waste a moment before she’s pushing the pill past your lips and pressing her palm over your mouth before you can spit it out. Her fingers still pinch your nose shut, her grip unyielding against the restrained fists that pound against her chest.

“Swallow, baby,” She goads as black creeps into the edges of your vision. By now, the pill is reduced to bitter white chunks on your tongue, but you make a show of swallowing to satisfy her. The reaction is almost instantaneous, her fingers prodding past your lips as you desperately gulp down oxygen. Her fingers taste like sanitizer and lotion as she inspects your gum line and beneath your tongue. You cringe away from her touch but with the bed beneath you, there’s nowhere to go. 

When she’s confident you swallowed, she gives you a quick pat on the cheek. The corner of her lips twitch up in only a ghost of a grin before she’s hauling you to your feet and bending you over her lap. You huff, balance thrown off kilter by the sudden movement and lack of oxygen. Valeria’s knee digs uncomfortably into your stomach and ribs. A hand wraps around your upper arm, holding you firmly on her lap. 

“You thought I wouldn’t hunt you down?”  She asks, free hand trailing down the curve of your spine. Her chipped and jagged nails drag across your skin, leaving raised lines in their wake. Fingers curl around the waistband on your sweatpants, gripping tight. You kick your legs, gritting out empty threats as she pulls them down. She tugs until the cleft of your ass is exposed to the stale air.

“I’m sorry,” You sob into the comforter, tears wetting the scratchy blanket. You sound like a broken record, the apologies spilling from your mouth only broken up by promises to never do it again.

“I don’t believe you,” Valeria coos, a condescending smile playing at her lips. She splays her hand against your ass cheek, lightly pressing into the soft flesh until it dimples beneath her fingertips. Her grip on your arm has tightened enough to be bruising.

The heat between Valeria’s thighs only heightens at the sight of you draped over her lap. Idly, she considers the merits of a more sadistic punishment. Purpled bite marks across your shoulders would certainly remind you who you belong to. Or maybe nice ‘V’ carved into the soft fat of your ass. Both would crush your little attitude beneath her boot. Ultimately, she decides to stow those thoughts away for now, saving them for when you’re back home with her. It’d be easy to go overboard now, with the adrenaline and anger rushing through her bloodstream. For now, she just wants to make you cry. 

The first hit comes when you least expect it. The impact sends a ripple through the soft flesh of your ass. Valeria groans lowly at the sight. Your hips jump at the sensation, skin going hot beneath Valeria’s palm. The strike has you screeching, thrashing beneath her in a futile attempt at an escape. You clench and unclench your restrained fists.

“Count.” Her brown irises are swallowed by her dilated pupils, trained in the spot where her hand met your cheek. The heat of your skin bleeds into Valeria’s cold palms, goosebumps popping up across your exposed skin. 

“What the fuck?” You squeal, humiliation and fear petering into indignation. It’s not a surprise to Valeria, she’d always known there was a bit of you that needed training. You were impatient, even selfish at times. A wily little thing she enjoyed wrestling into submission. The brattiness was endearing in her own bed, but after the past few weeks, it only stokes her anger. 

“Count,” She repeats, a little louder this time. “Count and maybe I won’t fucking chip you.” The twist of anger in your expression has her raising her hand again, coming down in a perfect arc to hit the same spot again. You shriek into the bedding, fingernails sinking into your clammy palms. Valeria’s arm tightens around you, dragging you even further into her lap. “Not gonna do it?” She brings her hand down three more times, alternating which side she hits to keep you on edge. “You think I’m lying? Tracked you down like a fucking dog, tell me why I shouldn’t treat you like one?” 

“Won’t do it again, Val,” You sob. “Please, I’m sorry!” Hot tears stream down your flushed face, mixing with the drool smeared across your chin and mouth. Your voice cracks with the force of your crying. Valeria grows impossibly wetter, slick dampening the gusset of her panties. 

“Then start counting.” Your fingers claw at the blanket as she strikes you again. There’s no screech or resistance when her palm hits you, just sniffling. The seconds drag by like hours as Valeria waits with bated breath, hungrily watching the tears spill from your eyes. 

“ One .” Valeria releases your chin and you press your cheek to the mattress. She groans at your thin voice, hoarse from all your yelling. Her palm rubs soothing circles over the spot she’d just hit, contrasting the rough treatment just seconds prior. A shudder runs up your body at the sensation, eyes screwed shut. 

“Good girl,” She murmurs, lips curling into a predatory grin. The next hit has you tensing up beneath her, stammering out a low two . There’s still some resentment buried beneath your submission. It shows in the impudent curl of your lips, the angry furrow of your brow. The quiet whimper that slips your mouth before three is delicious. It appeases Valeria’s growing appetite.  

By ten , you’ve run out of tears. The quiet groans spilling from your throat have a knot winding in Valeria’s stomach. Your ass is marred with her handprints, raised marks from the trauma. Come time, they’ll darken into bruises, the sting of red-hot flesh fading to an overwhelming ache. And every time you see them, you’ll be reminded of your mistakes. Valeria loosens her grip on you, knowing you won’t even try to run. 

By fifteen , your eyes have glossed over and your thrashing has ceased. The numbers are whispered through gritted teeth between quiet grunts, attitude fully snuffed out by Valeria’s hand. A little pain and you’re her good girl again, all sweet and pliant beneath her. Your inner thighs are dewy with the slick that leaks from you, dribbling down your cunt to your swollen clit. 

There’s no resistance as she hauls you to your feet, hands placed beneath your armpits like you’re a doll. You brace your hands on her shoulder, legs too shaky to keep you upright. Valeria tugs your panties and sweatpants up, brushing the bruised curve of your ass too firmly to be accidental. You shift a little, lurching forward to escape the pain. 

Valeria grabs you by the hips, dragging you into her lap. You let out a little yelp upon resting your ass against her thighs, the sudden weight against the raw skin overwhelming. For a moment, you hover, but Valeria presses you down firmly, ignoring the way you wriggle away. Once the pain subsides, you practically meld into her, head resting in the crook of her neck as you sniffle. Valeria brushes the hair from your face, damp with tears and cold sweat. Your limbs are loose, heavy with warmth that emanates from the pit of your stomach.

“Why’d you run?” She murmurs, dragging her splayed palms up and down your thighs. When you don’t reply, she tugs your head from the crook of her neck, hand cradling the base of your skull. Valeria studies you with her dark eyes, searching for a flicker of resistance in your lachrymose gaze. She finds nothing. “Hm? What was it?” 

“I was scared,” The words slip out before you can consider them. It’s an admission only made more pathetic by your thin voice. Something in Valeria’s gaze shifts as her lips press into a line. Her hand tightens on the back of your neck. The weeks of false composure fracture when faced with her dilated pupils, only a thin rind of warm brown surrounding them. The fear hits you like a cold wave, washing over your body as the words are spilling from your chest. 

“I-I didn’t know if it was safe for me to stay,” You stammer out, clenching your hands into fists in an attempt to ward off the tremors overtaking you. “I was worried that maybe they’d come for me next and you wouldn’t be there, Valeria, and I-” The corners of her lips tug up into a smug, satisfied grin and your words are cut short with a stifled sob. 

It’s not a lie, but not quite the truth either. Valeria can see it in the split second of hesitation before you speak. There’s fear there, but not fear of her enemies. No, she saw that terror in your wide-eyed gaze when you realized she had been the one to find you. 

“Oh, mi vida ,” Valeria coos, a hand coming up to cradle your cheek. Her thumb brushes away the few tears rolling down your face. Her other hand brushes up and down your side, dipping beneath the fabric of your shirt. “You thought you’d be safer running?” You sniffle as she squeezes at the fat of your hip. “This,” She gestures to the room around you with a sardonic chuckle. “This is worse than if you stayed put. I can’t protect you when I don’t know where you are.”

“I’m sorry.” You say for the millionth time. It’s the only response your brain can formulate. She’s right, running only left you more vulnerable to people who would use you to reach Valeria. But she doesn’t take your fear of her into consideration, even with the marks spread across your ass cheeks. 

“I believe you,” She says, “But it’ll take more than an apology to make me trust you. You understand, right?” 

You nod, eyes cast downward in shame.

“Good girl,” She tugs at your lower lip with her thumb. “Missed you s’much, you know?” She purrs, pressing two fingers past your lips. Your jaw widens to accommodate the push of her finger against your tongue. “Was so excited to see my girl. Bet you can imagine how I took the news, hm?” Drool gathers behind your teeth, dripping down your chin as Valeria ‘accidentally’ bumps your gag reflex. You lurch, but her fingers remain firmly hooked in her mouth. You don’t have the energy to resist her, any coherent thought slipping from your grasp before you can make sense of it. 

“So pretty like this,” She muses. Valeria adjusts you like a doll, one hand grabbing and moving your limbs until you're straddling her thigh. “You know who owns this cunt, don’t you?” Her other hand grips your hip, rolling it against her muscled thigh. Valeria laughs at your garbled moan as pleasure sparks in your core. “Just my stupid little pet that doesn’t know what’s good for her.” 

“M’not,” You slur, fingers curling into the collar of her shirt. She continues the slow pace, occasionally bouncing her knee to relish in your yelps. The heat in your stomach only grows. Electricity shoots up your spine when Valeria perfects the angle, pressing the seam of your pants against your clit just right. You moan around her fingers, lips and chin shiny with spit. In the weeks you spent running, pleasure had been an afterthought. You never had the time or privacy to worry about getting yourself off. The neglect left you swollen, sensitive, and all too receptive to Valeria’s touch. 

“Really?” She coos, slowly pulling her fingers from your mouth. They come to rest on your other hip, fingers dampening the fabric beneath them. “Grinding your cunt on me like a dumb mutt, aren’t you?” With a firmer grip on you, she presses your cunt even harder on her thigh, rocking you back and forth. You mindlessly follow her movements, chasing your high. 

Valeria studies the pinch of your brow and pitch of moans, watching every minute expression that crosses your face. Your thighs tighten around her own, desperately humping at her. Quiet pants escape your swollen lips, your head hangs low, and your eyes shut. The languid pace is entirely your own, she’s barely moving you along.

When your moans take a higher pitch, fingers tugging at her shirt, she knows you're close. Valeria’s hand comes to pull at your hair, tugging your head back and exposing the bare column of your throat. Her jaw clenches upon noticing your collar’s absence. She meets your wide eyes, your scleras flushed red and pupils dilated. Your pace falters, but Valeria prompts you to keep going with a bounce of her leg. 

“Please,” You whimper. “Wanna come.” The desperation in your voice is palpable. It’s pathetic enough to have Valeria pitying you. It’s hard for you to keep your grip on her shirt, your muscles seem to have a mind of their own. Your restrained hands fall to your lap, numb and warm as you continue to grind. 

“Yeah?” She taunts. “You wanna cum on my thigh?” Her fingers dance up your shirt, calluses brushing over your fluttering abdomen as she makes her way to your breasts. You part your lips when her fingers toy with your hardened nipples, plucking and twisting the sensitive buds. 

“Mhmm,” You nod, eyes fluttering shut. Your tongue is too heavy to form a proper response. By now, your head has gone cottony and light, filled with nothing but Val. It’s hard to even remember how you got into this situation or even recognize the dull ache of your bruised ass on every grind. Her body heat is suffocating, the scent of her perfume leaving you drooling. Valeria can see the distant look in your eyes, so she lets your lack of verbal response slide. She dips her head to your shoulder, pressing wet kisses along the curve of your neck.

“Please,” You manage to wail, repeating the word until your voice gives out on you. Valeria’s teeth glint in the moonlight as you come, nipping at the thin skin above your pulse point. Your wetness soaks the crotch of your panties, leaving them wet and sticky along the curve of your folds. The heat bleeds through your pants, warming Valeria’s thigh. 

When your hips stop twitching and your breath slows, you slump into Valeria. The hand beneath your shirt traverses up and down your spine as you hiccup and cry. Shame curdles in your stomach, tears burning at the corners of your eyes. Valeria presses soft kisses to your cheek, slowly making her way to your chapped lips. 

The kiss is sloppy and almost entirely one-sided. You struggle to keep up with her, clumsily tilting your head the wrong way and hardly moving your tongue. Her teeth knock against yours. When you cringe away at the sensation, she follows you, biting down on your lower lip hard enough to break skin. Hands wrap around your upper arms hard enough to bruise, pulling you closer to her. She licks along the sharp edges of your teeth, presses her tongue against yours. You squirm and whine through it all, only settling when she pulls away, a string of blood-tinged saliva connecting you. 

Satisfaction blooms in Valeria’s chest as she meets your teary eyes. You weeks of planning, the effort spent running, all of it was rendered pointless in a matter of minutes. The regret has your chest tightening, wishing you’d fought harder, bared your teeth. It’s too late, you realize as she heaves you to your feet. There’s no chance at escape with the way the room sways, legs weak beneath you. Valeria anchors you to her side just as you're about to fall, pulling you toward the door. Your mind desperately screams to push her away, but you can’t feel your arms anymore. You stumble and trip over the door frame, only held upright by Valeria’s arm around your waist. 

You can’t help but feel like a prisoner approaching the gallows when you see the idling car. Gravel crunches beneath your feet as she drags you forward, ignoring your attempts to dig your heels in. Each step is one step closer back to Las Almas, back to her mansion, to the gilded cage she’ll lock you in. Fear curdles in your stomach, but there’s nothing you can do with Valeria practically pinning you to her side. She pushes you into the car, quickly sliding in next to you and slamming the door shut. The click of the locks cements your fate. Valeria wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you close when you try to shuffle away. She barks out orders to the driver. The car shifts gears, quickly leaving the motel and meeting the open road. Valeria murmurs something about going home as your body loosens, her knuckles brushing over your arm. It’s only a matter of minutes before you’re sprawled across the seat, head resting in her lap. The promise of deep, dreamless sleep is irresistable. 

Valeria idly brushes the hair from your face, humming a quiet tune just loud enough for you to hear. For a while, she watches you fight to stay awake, eyes fluttering shut adorably each time you do. She smiles when you finally slip away, that pinched, fearful expression finally leaving your pretty face. It’s the culmination of weeks of work, countless outbursts, and more than a few deaths. You gave a good chase, she’ll admit, but she won. 

Valeria’s sure once the rohypnol’s effects wane, you’ll be back to your feral self. It won’t be easy to earn your submission, but to her, that’s half the fun. Valeria can already hear the foul threats you’ll grunt out from behind your gag, drool dripping down your chin as you pull against your leash. But that’s trouble for another day, another training session. It’ll take more than one session to fully domesticate you, but Valeria is eager for the work ahead. She’s always enjoyed playing with her food. 

[lowkeyrobin]

TMR ; how you meet

includes ; newt, minho, brenda, aris, sonya & harriet

warnings ; language, mentions of weapons, death

masterlist

NEWT

met at the mall in the scorch

you were barely fucking alive

thomas heald the gun up at you thinking you were infected and newts like "bloody hell, what happened to you?"

he quickly helps you because you're literally starving and dying of dehydration

you're slumped over his shoulder and barely able to walk

you thank him religiously for helping you

your friendship is the definition of the vibes of From Eden by Hozier

such a pure, wholesome relationship

most of the group had no hope for you but he did

because he wasn't going to let another person die

cries

MINHO

at the right arm

he caught your attention so fast

like who is that badass, tired, fast ass runner???

he honestly admires you

the way you hold a gun, the way you show facial expressions, etc

your determination to get him back from WCKD was probably the only thing actually keeping the operations going

even after the train rush failed, you wouldn't stop

even with your small time together, you'd built a weird bond

and you weren't gonna give up on him, even if his actual friends wanted to

BRENDA

Met in the Last City while reuniting with Gally

you worked with him and helped assist him and the others kind of helpfully kidnap the crew (???)

she didn't trust you at first, but you jumped at the sight of a rebellion and blowing shit up

she started to like you

the whole bus scene went crazy

she admires your fight and that you don't like violence, you like the rebellion aspect and taking down the bad people and find a way to make it fun for everyone yk?

you kept the kids so calm and collected, she wished she could stay so calm in a panic filled situation like you

ARIS

you came out of another maze just before him

you kinda sat in silence with him every day until maze b survivors showed up

he'd never showed you the vents, although he did talk about escaping with you

although iffy, you listened to him and the maze b kids

you had no one left, and you didn't want to stay if janson turned out to be with WCKD yk?

a quiet, mutual was bonded on the first day you guys sat in silence together

kind of like a mutual respect for one another although you barely knew each other

SONYA

you came up in the box before her

you showed her around and all that

she admires your hard work and how you don't give up, even with the most boring, mundane tasks or the most spine cracking, difficult ones.

you have a strength for defending the ones you love as well and she loves it about you

you have awesome fashion too tbh

HARRIET

at the right arm

she heald you at gunpoint and you were both trying to figure each other out

mutual bond of respect formed between you two

constantly teaching each other new things and stuff

you teach her how to use a pencil, she teaches you how to weave together blankets and shit

you're smart and quick thinking and she's kind of the arms of the operation, she's like your shield

w dynamic

[alottiegoingon]

hc! enemies to friends

natalie scatorccio x fem!reader

summary: going from enemies to friends with nat

warnings: golden retriever x black cat dynamic, very brief drinking mention, cursing, not proofread pls ignore any mistakes

the request was enemies to lovers but i didnt want to sound repetitive so this could be considered a prequel for this if you ignore a few changes :)

𖧊 nat thought you were an excruciating pain in her ass

𖧊 when you joined the yellowjackets, she couldn’t be any more frustrated by your constant overwhelming happiness or your endless chatter

𖧊 “do you ever think about how aliens may think that we are the real aliens?” you and misty were in a heated argument about the topic while warming before practice and natalie was really trying to ignore you until she couldn’t anymore

𖧊 “oh my goood!” nat growled, hands covering her face as she was one step away from murdering you with her bare hands. “do you ever stop talking?”

𖧊 “maybe,” you reply to her snarky comment, stopping stretching your legs to cross your arms. “if you say please.”

𖧊 “i’d rather throw myself in front of a bus, actually,” she retorts, jaw clenching

𖧊 “and how exactly do you plan to play soccer with a broken leg or arm?”

𖧊 “no, that’s not-”nat tries to explain that, first of all, she didn’t actually mean it in a literal way but, second, if she did then playing soccer would be the least of her worries. but then she realized how stupid it was

𖧊 “just forget it,” she muttered, storming away with heavy steps, seeking solace in a quiet corner to warm up

𖧊 you were everywhere. yes, you went to the same school and the same soccer team but still, nat was always hoping to get a break from you

𖧊 it wasn’t very difficult for the other girls to notice that nat wasn’t exactly the happiest around you and that’s exactly why jackie paired you two, trying to make you get along

𖧊 “it looks like we are partners,” you said with a grin, heading towards nat. her narrowed eyes and tense posture were a stark contrast to yours

𖧊 “let’s just get over with it,” she couldn’t care less about small talk and she surely didn't wanna hear shit about fucking aliens

𖧊 passing the ball to each other was a very stupid idea, nat was sure of it. it was for kids, for beginners. and she wasn’t either of those. you, on the other hand, seemed pretty content with the fun and light training

𖧊 “did you know that smoking isn’t good for you?” you simply let your bold words fall from your lips, still focused on the exercise

𖧊 “how do you know i smoke?” nat can’t believe how annoying you were. she didn’t need advices

𖧊 “i saw you smoking behind school this morning. i tried to say hi but you didn’t see me”

𖧊 “oh. was that you?” she squints at the memory of a louder version of yourself was screaming her name from the open window of a passing car

𖧊 “yes, didn’t you hear me?”

𖧊 “sorry, i thought you were screaming bats”, nat explains, trying to hide a hint of a possible smirk appearing in her face by compressing her lips

𖧊 “why would i scream bats? i was saying nat!”

𖧊 “hm, no,” she nods. “it was definitely bats”

𖧊 bickering over small things was something that the yellowjackets were very tired of, especially if it happened in the locker room after practice when everyone was exhausted

𖧊 “are you filling my water bottle?” nat approached when you were by the drinking fountain, struggling to hold at least five other bottles on your arms while filling nat's

𖧊 "no, nat. i'm holding it for fun," you snort, eyes pierced on the running water so it wouldn't overflow

𖧊 "i didn't ask you to do that!"

𖧊 "the girls asked me to do theirs and yours was empty. you're welcome" as soon as you're done with it, you close the lid and practically shoves her bottle on her chest, barely giving her any time to hold it

𖧊 "it was empty because i wanted to! the water tastes like shit here," she digs her fingers into the plastic so hard that they were turning white

𖧊 "are you allergic to saying thank you or just rude?" you exhale, now facing nat with, for the first time ever, impatience in your eyes

𖧊 "fuck off, princess," she forces a laugh out, "i'm allergic to annoying and bubbly girls stealing my stuff, yes!" nat steps forward and you thought you were allucinating when you caught her eyes on your mouth

𖧊 “just kiss already, i'm so tired of your shit,” tai groans before you could tease her about it and right by her side there's van smirking at the very gay situation

𖧊 “in her dreams, maybe," you mock nat just to have the pleasure of watch her whole face going red

𖧊 after being completely humilliated by you (you made her blush) in front of everyone, nat was furious. that until she found you hidden in the spot she would usually go to smoke with her friends before school

𖧊 she was about to leave as soon as she laid her eyes on you, not wanting to get envolved in any drama. besides, she didn't like you and she didn't care. but she couldn't just leave you there

𖧊 "what's up, princess? someone stole your gel pens?" nat wasn't good when it came to comfort someone, and definitely not you. so, maybe, being funny would help

𖧊 you didn't bother to look up at her. sitting on the floor hugging your knees against your chest and burying your head onto your legs, you weren't in the mood to listen to her taunts. "not now, nat."

𖧊 nat wasn't sure of what to do. sitting by your side and mirroring your position, she pondered for a while and decided that the best thing to do was to wait. it's not like she cared about being late for school anyway

𖧊 "coach martinez wants to replace me. he said i don't kick strong enough," you slowly lif your head from your knees in order to face natalie, who was attentively listening to your first words after some solid ten minutes

𖧊 "this is crazy. what does he know about soccer anyway?"

𖧊 "he's the coach, nat," you frown at her strange way of reassuring you, despite finding it kind of cute

𖧊 "well, there's that," she rubs her temples, "but we still have time until the nationals. maybe we could practice together"

𖧊 "like you and me?" your confusion only gets worse. natalie scatorccio wanted to help you?

𖧊 "it can't be that bad, right? and it would suck to have you replaced by some other loud and irritating girl when i'm already used to you"

𖧊 this could go terribly wrong and end up with nat having your head in a stick but you were willing to take the risk if it meant that you had a chance to stay in the team

𖧊 "alright, i'm in" shaking your head, you extend your hand for nat to shake it and seal the deal. "i always knew you didn't actually hate me."

𖧊 "don't make me regret it, princess."

[brucewaynehater101]

When the others inevitably find out about the warped dynamic between Tim and Bruce they decide to completely take advantage of it and tell Tim that they’re planning on going out

And tim sees them as his siblings or distant relatives so he doesn’t really think that he needs to give them permission or that he has any authority over them so he just nods and tells them to be safe

When they get caught by Bruce they just immediately throw Tim under the bus by saying that he said they could go and Tim is realizing that his siblings are exploiting the loophole that is Tim and must work his way out of this blunder

Alright. Brilliant. However, here's how I'm imaging the scene to play out:

~~~

Damian has been glaring at Tim for the last thirteen minutes. Tim has been steadfast in ignoring whatever weird intimidation technique the kid is trying to pull with him. As he's taken to most of the batkids, he sticks to the motto, "it's not my business until it is."

The best part about that motto is how vague it is so Tim can shape it to whatever aim he pleases. It works for him, and it works against everyone else (unless it's Duke. The teen ruthlessly utilizes the loophole of making whatever situation he needs Tim for into Tim's problem).

Regardless, Tim has been clacking away at Neon Knights paperwork while Damian stares at Tim without blinking. An idle thought of Tim's almost makes him navigate to LoA servers to check their training programs (thirteen whole minutes without blinking???), but his willpower is strong enough to ignore it.

"Timothy."

Tim immediately closes his laptop and whips around to Damian.

Did the little gremlin actually refer to Tim by his first name?

Tim's fingers twitch with the urge to perform an injury check on the kid, but he refrains. Damian seems fine.

Well... besides the unblinking stare for thirteen minutes and the first name. Maybe Tim should perform tha-

"Colin and I would like to go to the zoo on Saturday, Timothy."

Tim's thoughts snap back to present at the confusing series of events that are playing out. He clocks the kid's clenched teeth, his hesitancy to even utter any words, the delayed conversation, the first name usage, the way Damian's eyes betray irritation and anticipation, his strict posture, and the way Damian's hands are clasped behind his back. It's a confusing set of clues laid out before Tim, and he can only come to one conclusion.

Damian is reaching out and offering an olive branch. He's offering random information in his socially stunted way of bonding.

Tim allows a soft smile to appear on his face as he nods. "Are there any animals in particular you want to see?"

Damian's eyebrow furrow, but he does answer the question. "Richard has prattled on about the elegance of elephants. Colin is partial to the tigers."

While that didn't necessarily answer the question, Tim offers him a nod. "I particularly enjoy their bird enclosures. They allow you to walk inside some of them as they fly around you."

Damian's eyes gain a concerning gleam to them, but Tim just hopes this bonding exercise brings them closer together. It's been hectic in the Manor ever since the other Bats found out about the true nature of his relationship with Bruce. It's not as huge of a deal as they seem to be making of it.

Tim grabs his laptop, places it on his lap, and pries it open again. "I hope you guys have fun at the zoo."

By the soft and intentional putter of feet, Tim can hear Damian walking away. "Thank you, Timothy."

"You're welcome, Dames."

Tim finds out Saturday night, when the batcave is filled with 3 tigers, 6 elephants, and so many birds, what Damian actual meant by him going to the zoo. Bruce is furious, several of the Batkids are laughing, and Tim is quietly hiding his amusement as well.

Or he was until Damian explained that Tim had given him permission to do it and even told him to grab all the birds.

[until-dong]

Didn’t have the chance to get through much more of the game, but I have been thinking about character relations/dynamics and how the group is all connected to each other.

I think previously I just assumed they were all kids of wealthy families, and I’m sure that’s a completely fair assumption to make, but on this playthrough I’ve been considering the likelihood that Sam and Chris (and possibly Ashley?) are not in the same social class as the rest of the group. All I have is anecdotal evidence, since the game doesn’t give anything concrete, but it’s been fun to think about regardless.

We do know Jess, Matt, Josh, and Emily are well off for sure, due to various dialogues (Emily and Matt shop on rodeo drive, Matt has a designer letterman jacket, Jess has broken several phones in the last year that her family replaces, and Josh’s family owns a fucking mountain lol). Icr any specific dialogue for Mike that indicates one way or another, but considering the relationships he has with the rest of the group, I’d put him firmly in the upper class (though I’d be happy to hear any arguments otherwise).

Sam’s lowest relationships at the beginning of the game are with Jess and Mike, who are the main perpetrators behind the prank on Hannah, her best friend. But her relationship with everyone else is on the same level, and it’s not super high. So it feels safe to say Sam’s relationship to the group was mainly through Hannah, and without Hannah, it’s possible or probable that Sam didn’t keep in close touch with any of them. She does say in the credits that she thought her and Josh were close, after the twins died, but this isn’t reflected in the relationship meter, which could mean that they mainly talked about the twins when they did talk, and didn’t really connect beyond their relationship with Hannah.

She also arrives at the mountain by bus, which may not be indicative of anything—I certainly wouldn’t want to try driving up a mountain—but can be read as Sam requiring cheaper means to get to Blackwood than the others.

So, considering Sam’s in with the group is through Hannah, and she doesn’t buddy up with anyone once they’re all together, choosing to spend time by herself, it could indicate that she feels like an outsider to the group. If her use of public transport is read as being in a lower social class, that could certainly make the divide she feels between herself and the rest of the group stronger. That could account for the reason she’s not pushier about the prank in the prologue, too (which is something I’ve always wondered about). Maybe she doesn’t feel it’s her place, since she’s not really “one of them,” and it could be why she decides to try and find Hannah rather than stop them directly.

In the remake, it seems like Chris arrives at Blackwood in a junky truck (though the truck could very well belong to someone else in the group, my immediate assumption was Chris, since the other car is Emily’s, and it seems that Matt and Emily may have arrived together, but we have no indication on how Jess, Mike, Ashley, or even Josh arrived—we do know Chris did drive though, since he has printed out directions from Josh on how to reach Blackwood, and if he drove, the car has to be somewhere, unless he got a lift from a family member). The state of the truck says a lot on its own, but I also want to consider the conversation Chris has with Sam on the lift (the infamous butterfly effect conversation).

I’m not an expert on wealthy people by any means, I’m not even middle class lol, but I do know wealthy people tend to stick together. So the fact that Chris points out that if not for a seat swap, him and Josh would probably not be friends, despite being in the same class when so young, I think it’s possible to read this as Chris being in a different social class than Josh where they otherwise would not run together or be encouraged to be friendly with each other.

Ashley I have even less evidence for to be honest, but it’s fun to speculate. Her strongest relationships are with Chris and, surprisingly, Matt. In the same way that Sam was probably brought into the group via Hannah, I can see Ashley being brought into the group either through Chris’ crush on her as a fellow classmate, and Josh trying to encourage that—or through Matt. Matt and Ashley are both kind of pushovers, so I can see why they’re friends. And her being brought in by Matt has a higher likelihood in my eyes, considering how into the prank she is. It also may be in-part why Chris is so hesitant to make a move with her. It could also be why Josh chooses to set the traps up the way he does, where she has no agency or choice whatsoever, and hands it all over to Chris.

I have no idea what the fandom consensus or headcanons are on these characters anymore, but I’ve been thinking about these three a lot, and I like imagining how this would make the dynamic of their group, and also their individual characters, more complex.

I’d love to hear anyone else’s thoughts on this! :)

[yuri-is-online]

Crewel fic au:

In this timeline yuu gets the yutu experience! Reader was in twisted wonderland till their late teens to early 20s which is long enough for crewel to boink them at least once.

When they're back to the normal world only then do they show signs of pregnancy; that's how our dear yuu came into existence.

Imagine crewel's perspective

You meet this goody two shoes and butt heads many times. You then learn that the reason why they act like the headmaster's puppy is because the only place they have is the ramshackle dorm. So you keep your distance and mind your business. Over years you get closer, through academic work, even start falling for them. On the edge of graduation, you decide to take them out. You're finally official! Graduation goes by, they move in with you. You guys have sex ONE time and then poof! They're gone the moment you leave for work.

Years later you advance your career and magical prowess and are now a teacher.A kid crashes the sorting ceremony with their familiar, The kid strangely resembles you.

Oh you know I considered doing this when I was outlining the fic. The timeline didn't exactly add up so I decided against it... but oooh you are so close to what I have in mind for Crewel and Reader's relationship dynamic:

It's a rivalmance of sorts... You certainty can't stand Divus when you meet him. He's a chain smoking, class class cutting bully who picks a fight the first time he sees you and then decides you're "friends" after you punch him in the face. You fight, make up, throw each other under the bus, lie to protect one another, and get defensive if anyone else tries to pull the same shit with the other. It gets more playful and less serious as the years go by, enough that if you were still there when someone asked you about how you got together you could laugh about it.

The main difference between Reader and Yuu in the Fyuutere kid Au is that you do still have your memories when you get home. If you came back with a child, you would know exactly why. Yuu learns a bit about their dad, enough that when they crash land in Twisted Wonderland and see Crewel for the first time math starts mathing in their head. Crewel on the other hand... he places a big emphasis on professionalism. Sure, this kid looks like you, says your name and calls you their parent. But he can't think of them as his, sure the math adds up and he sees himself in Yuu, but he is so determined to treat them like he would any other student that he ignores it.

That's not to say he wouldn't want it to be true though... he desperately does. Divus is still not over you, and he's sort of accepted that he probably never will be; at this point it is about enjoying his life and not obsessing over what could have been. When he learns the truth about Yuu that changes, he's very determined not to let them disappear like you did and to find a way to bring you back to Twisted Wonderland. If we keep with what I am planning for the fic he's extra determined to do that when he hears about your current fiancé and how much Yuu hates him. Not because he's jealous, don't be silly it's been years he just doesn't want to have to share custody across dimensions that sounds complicate-

It's because of jealousy, he can deny it all he likes but he's still a hot head deep down.

[lazydoodlesandfanfic]

A Better Father (Loki X Stark!Son!Reader) *PARENTAL

Characters: Loki X Stark!Son!Reader

Universe: Marvel, Avengers

Warnings: Parental negligence, bad relationship with parent, mention of drugs and underage drinking

Request: could you do a tony x son!reader, in their live, tony was always cold to him (but eventually take him in with pepper) and then Peter Parker show up and take that away, Loki see him in reader (like with odin and how he treat Loki and Thor) and decide to adopt him, teach him magic, reader happy again 😊.

Notes: I wrote this and completely forgot it's meant to be male!reader until it came time to post- I think I've corrected it, but if you spot I've accidentally used the wrong pronouns please let me know so I can fix it. Thanks!

“I’m going out!” You announced, already at the front door, pulling your shoes on and your jacket, before grabbing your bag, hand on the door handle before you got a response. 

“Where to?” Pepper asked, rounding the corner, arms crossed. 

“My friend is doing a school project and wants my help with it.” You excused yourself, being careful not to go into any details. 

“Do you need a ride?” She asked. 

“No, it’s okay, there’s a bus that takes me right outside their apartment. I don’t know how long I’ll be, since we have a lot to do, if it gets late I’ll call you to let you know I’m okay and I’ll stay over, is that okay?” You asked her. Pepper walked a little closer, her expression clearly troubled.

“I’ll have to ask your father…” She commented, and your shoulders slumped, you turning to face her. 

“You know he’s not going to care, Peps. In fact, I’m going to predict what he’s going to say, something along the lines of ‘yeah, yeah, whatever’.” You mimicked, Pepper frowning, knowing you were right. “I appreciate you actually trying to make up for him, I really do. It’s why I go to you instead of him for permission- because you actually care. Please don’t waste your breath. If he actually wants to know what his son is doing, he’ll do it himself.” You pointed out. 

“I know… he should be better, and I want him to be better for you… and I also know you’re lying to me.” She pointed out. You felt your heart drop into your ass, and you sighed. “I told Peter about one of your prior projects with friends, and he looked into it- wanting to see if he could help as well, but then found out that your friend doesn’t even exist.”

“Has he told Tony?” You asked. 

“No. He hasn’t. I made him promise to wait, told him I’d deal with it.” She explained. “Peter also cares about you, even if he doesn’t have much time to actually spend time with you.” She pointed out, and you just nodded. You’d accepted that even though Peter was Tony’s favourite despite not actually being his kid, when Peter got an idea od the dynamic between you and your father, he tried his hardest not to play into it or make it worst, though he often realised after events that he actually had and had not realised it. He always apologised for it, always tried to spend time with you in school, and on more than one occasion, he’d covered for you or even claimed something you did that your dad didn’t like was his idea, knowing Tony wouldn’t punish him and it would stop your relationship with your dad somehow getting worse. You appreciated him, he was like a brother in a way, and at this point, more like family than your dad, like how Pepper was more of a parent than Tony was, despite you not being related either. Same with Happy. Same with… 

“I’m sorry for lying to you. And Peter… I just…” You fumbled. 

“What’s going on, Y/N? Where are you going?” She asked, her voice soft and welcoming, a silent promise that no matter what, she wasn’t going to yell, turn on you, that she actually cares and just wants to be there for you. 

“I’ve been going to meet someone… not romantically or anything!” You told her quickly. “I’m not doing drugs or anything like that either.” 

“That’s good, so you’re being responsible with this person… why have you been hiding this person from us then?” She asked. You thought for a second on how to break the news, and in that time, Pepper started to pry a little more. “Are they… older?” She asked. You nodded. “So not a teenager? Out of school?” She asked, and you nodded again. “How old are they?” She asked, tilting her head. Another hard question, and you bit your lip, and sensing you weren’t confident answering, she changed her question. “What do you two do? It’s not illegal, so what’s so bad you have to hide it?” She asked. 

“He’s… mentoring me.” You told her. 

“Oh, so he’s like a professor? A teacher? What’s he teaching you?” She asked with a smile, seemingly suddenly relieved, getting the idea that you were getting one on one lessons for something you were interested in as a future career, and she was ready to support you from the jump. 

“Magic. He’s teaching me magic.” You admitted, which made Pepper’s eyebrows press together. “And not the cut a woman in half or pull a rabbit out of a hat kind of magic.” You clarified, and she had a moment of realisation. 

“I know two people who know magic. One is Strange, who your father gets along with and so learning from him wouldn’t be a problem, which means… Loki? You’re going to see Loki? He’s teaching you magic?” She asked, and you nodded. 

“Please don’t tell Tony! I promise, Loki’s been nothing but kind to me! When we’re not doing magic, we just read books together- or go on walks or stuff!” You explained. 

“What kind of magic?” She demanded. 

“How to teleport, how to create an illusion, today he’s teaching me a spell that translates both written and spoken languages!” You explained to her. “He said for a treat for my birthday he’s going to teach me a spell that lets me understand animals because apparently what they say is really funny and cute and he thinks I’ll like it.” You explained to her. She clearly wasn’t convinced, and you sighed. “We do other stuff to.” You told her. 

“Like what?” She asked. 

“You know when Tony’s in a bad mood or I do something he doesn’t like and we get into an argument and I go for a walk to cool off and don’t come back for hours? Loki walks with me. He makes sure I don’t do anything stupid… I feel so safe with him, that I feel comfortable and safe enough to actually cry.” You admitted. You watched Pepper’s concerned expression fall. You never cried- at least not at home. Not at school either, according to Peter. You didn’t cry in front of her, or Peter, or Happy, and sure as hell never in front of Tony, no matter what he said or did. “And he knows what I need when I cry. He hugs me, he just lets me cry, he doesn’t shush me or try to make me stop. If anything bad happens, I go to him first. Like when I went to that party last month and got wasted and realised I didn’t know how to get home- you and dad thought I left with a stranger and stayed with someone who I didn’t know and then came home when sober- instead I called Loki and he looked after me during the night, he rubbed my back when I threw up, hugged me and promised it was gonna be okay when I was crying, he made this really nice tea which instantly made my hangover go away, and promised if this ever happened again he’d do it all over again, and then he took me home when I felt well enough.” You admitted to her. 

“Where do you two hang out, usually?” She asked. 

“He has a little apartment, there’s probably a hefty amount of magic to make it so the other tenants can’t notice the door to it since it defies the floor plan of the entire building, but it’s so cozy, and warm and I have my own bedroom there- which is where I go whenever I have any ‘sleepovers’, though I do make him watch movies, especially bad ones.” You laughed. It felt so good to finally be able to talk about this- about everything you and Loki did, because time with Loki was your happy time. 

“Okay… I have two questions.” She said, and you nodded, gulping. “Why…Loki? If you wanted to learn magic, why not go to Strange, and why is Loki so willing and…” She didn’t say the word, but you knew what she wanted to say. Fatherly. 

“Because when he looks at me, he sees himself.” You admitted. “He told me himself… Loki didn’t have a good relationship either with his father. Thor's the golden child, Loki was the one pushed to the back, forgotten. He knows how it feels to be unwanted, to not be thought of by the person who is supposed to love you. He knows how it feels to want to be loved and no matter how hard you try, not getting it, because in your dad’s eyes, you’re not worth it. He sees me, and he sees his own childhood, and he hates that, so… he decided to do something about it.” You explained to her. “Loki… Loki’s like a dad to me. He certainly acts more like one than Tony.” You pointed out. Pepper looked devastated, but understood. “What was your other question?”

“Inevitably, Tony’s going to find out about this. I won’t tell him, I’ll feign ignorance, but Peter’s going to find out somehow, and you know that even if he wants to protect you, that boy can’t keep a secret to save his life, especially from Tony.” She pointed out. “What’s your game plan for when he finds out?” She asked. 

“I’ve already got that figured out.” You reassured her. “Loki set up the bedroom for me for the worst case scenario… I graduate next year. I’ll graduate, start going to college, and I’m going to move out and live with Loki- he might move his apartment to be closer to whatever college I want to go to. If he doesn’t know by then, I’ll tell him I just have a roommate and we know he’s not going to come and visit, and after college, I’ll just slowly drop contact, keep my distance, away from him, happy, learning magic, living my own life. I’ll come visit you and Peter and Happy, regular phone calls, if you need me, call me and I’ll be there… and if Tony finds out before then? I’ll go anyway. I’ll be okay, no matter what. Loki has my back.”

“...And so do I.” She added. You two stared at each other. You weren’t sure what she was thinking, what exactly she was going to do. Ban you from seeing Loki? Tell your father? Treat you like a criminal and monster even if you’ve done nothing wrong? Be locked away? Somehow become even more of an outcast? Lose the few people you actually consider family? Lose Loki? “I won’t keep you waiting. Keep me updated on what you’re doing, if you want to stay the night let me know, okay? I’ll tell Peter something that is easier to swallow and then we’ll tell him the full truth after you graduate. I’ll explain to Happy, maybe he can also help you… please just… don’t do anything stupid. Behave. No more secrets from me, okay?” She asked. 

“Okay. Thank you.” You told her, nodding with a grin. “I love you, I’ll see you tomorrow!” You told her, finally opening the door and dashing out. Pepper sighed, wondering what she was going to tell Peter to help keep in calm and not accidentally tell Tony, how she was going to get Happy to go along with this, how she’s going to look Tony in the eyes and feign ignorance, lie to his face about where his son is and who he's with. But then she remembered every time she could recall when she would come to Tony’s place and find you home alone when you were a young child, thinking it was normal, how you used to try to get his attention and him brush you off or even yell at you to go away and then slowly stop trying and instead go to her and Happy who actually cared. She remembered how utterly overjoyed you were when your dad actually came to your birthday after he was kidnapped, seeming to realise how precious life was and wanted to make up for lost time, and things were going well until Peter came into the picture, and he lost his way, his sole focus being Peter, you once again forgotten and neglected. Except this time you weren’t upset, just disappointed. You gave up on him, and instead adjusted, adapted, and found a new family. Pepper was your new mother, Peter was your brother, Happy your uncle, and Loki was your new, and much better father. You were making up for lost time with someone who actually cared and wanted you as a son. If Tony had a problem about it, he should have done something about it a long, long time ago.

You arrived at the apartment complex not long after leaving, heading up to the top floor, going to the door at the end of the hallway and letting yourself in. Loki peeked up from the book he was reading and smiled. “There you are, had me worried.” He joked. You sighed as you kicked your shoes off, dumping your bag on the floor and hanging up your coat. Your lack of an immediate response was weird for Loki, and he placed the book down, standing from the settee, and stepping closer to you. “What happened?” He asked softly, locking his hands behind himself. You turned to look at him finally. 

“Is it that obvious?” You asked, and he smiled sadly. “...Pepper knows. She’s covering for me, so I guess she’s okay with it, it’s just… what if Tony finds out and massively blows everything out of proportion?” You explained to him. 

“Well…” Loki crossed his arms, thinking. “Knowing you, your first thought is to run and start afresh.” He pointed out, and you nodded. “Or… I could talk to Thor. You and Pepper and him talk to the others, explain everything, we lay everything out, and then we tell your father. No secrets and being honest might work more in our favor than just upping and leaving, Y/N.” He pointed out. You squinted at him with suspicion. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be the God of Mischief and Lies?” You asked, making him crack a smile.

“I may be, but it means I also know when’s a good time to actually tell the truth, and I think this might be the time. Pepper knows, she has your back, Thor is, as you describe it, a loyal labrador and will be happy I’m behaving, those two alone can be the brains and the brawl to help keep the situation under control.” He reassured you. 

“Okay, if you think so… but can we do that tomorrow? I want to learn that spell so I can finally read your Asguardian books.” You begged, making him chuckle. 

“Of course we can, go make some tea, then we’ll start.”

Hope you like it! If you have any questions, please send them in!

*Not my gif

TAGS: @klanceiscannon14 @marvelhoeingismyhobby-blog @bellamyblakemorley @dummiesshort  @freyathehuntress @abbybills22-blogg @mutantjediavenger @theoraekensnotsosecretlover @alicedanganh @sleutherclaw @sleepy-coffee-bean @stawwpp @rebellionofthecattle @hello-love-youre-pretty @werosemagic@courtneychicken  @graysonmalfoy @bellero @originalpottervengerlock @supernatural-pan @esoltis280 @lady-of-liess @lenaswritingandstuff @macbetheliza @mandywholock1980 @cdwmtjb8 @caswinchester2000 @determinedpines @huntheimpossible @automaticbakeryfreakshoe

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Life in the City 3

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bad friends, creep behaviour, abuse of power dynamics, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You move to the big city and find yourself swallowed up by its chaos.

Characters: Clark Kent, Thor Odinson, short!reader

Note: A brief reprieve from the snakish prince.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you. No tag list, do not ask for updates.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You sleep lightly, A restless night that leaves your skull fragile. You give up your attempts as the sun rises through the windows. You sit up and stretch, looking around the soft hues limning the walls of Melanie’s apartment.

You stand and move cautiously through the space. You change in the bathroom, doing your best not to make too much noise as you go out to grab your bag. You brush your teeth and tidy up. You’ll have a shower when you get home.

You emerge and look around, making sure you haven’t left anything out. You take the time to clean up the snacks from the night before and place everything away in the cupboard. You know Melanie’s on a diet but it feels wrong to take it all back with you.

As you zip up your bag, a shadow darkness the hallway and you look up as Clark tussles his dark hair and stretches. You glimpse at him briefly, mortified to find him shirtless, his hard torso exposed above the low elastic of his sweatpants.

“Morning,” his voice is silty with sleep, “what… are you leaving already?”

“Well, I… I should head off. Get out of your way,” you shrug as you speak quietly, “plus, I got chores…”

“Oh, do you need a ride,” he lets his hand drag down his chest as you shift awkwardly, clinging to your knapsack.

“Um, that’s nice, but I’ll just catch the bus–”

“The bus?” He echoes, “let me throw on a shirt and get myself together. I can’t let you just sneak off.”

“Erm, I guess… I could wait and say goodbye to Melanie, I just thought–”

“Yeah, she won’t be up for a while,” he drops his arms, his chest puffed proudly, “you know, she drank a lot. She wasn’t feeling too well. You didn’t hear her?”

“What? I…” you blink and avoid his gaze, “I was asleep, I didn’t hear anything.”

“Oh, yeah, she was sick in the middle of the night. Pretty bad. I tell her not to drink on an empty stomach.”

“Ah, uh, yeah, that’s awful,” you sputter, “I… I’m sorry to rush out, it’s just I got a lot to catch up.”

“No problem. I’ll save you waiting for the bus,” he says, “won’t be long at all.”

“Oh, okay, but–”

“Really, it’s no trouble. If I don’t wake her up with a real latte, she’ll bite my head off,” he chuckles, “hungover Melanie is not nice Melanie.”

“Right,” you try to laugh but it’s more a croak, “I’ll just be… here then.”

🏙️

You sit in the car silently. The tension is roiling. You don’t know why you agreed. You could have insisted; the bus won’t be long…

Too late for that. You’re stuck now. At least there’s not much traffic. You hug your bag in your lap, anxious to just get home. He drives patiently despite the empty streets, taking his time as he turns onto the next street.

“So, chores, sounds exciting,” he teases.

“Mm, yeah, I guess,” you agree squeakily.

“What else are Saturday’s for? Guess you’re headed back to work on Monday?”

You nod, “mhmm.”

“How is it? Work? You making lots of friends?”

You almost feel like a kid. It reminds you of when your dad would pick you up from school and ask what trouble you go into. You twiddle your fingers against your bag.

“Um, well, everyone sort’ve keeps to themselves,” you eke out, “there’s a lot of work so…”

“You’ll settle in. I’m sure you’ll find lots of friends,” he slows and flips on his blinker, “I mean, you already have.” You tilt your head and glance at him in confusion, “me.”

“Oh, uh, sure, yeah, sorry, I’m tired,” you laugh nervously.

“So,” he rolls into the lot of the Coffee Bean, “want something?”

“You don’t have to–”

“I’m stopping by anyway, no biggie,” he insists, “coffee, tea?”

You pick at the zipper of your bag. He’s so nice. Too nice. But that’s not a real problem, you’re just making it into one. Last night… what did he do so wrong? Pull a blanket over you? It was cold.

“Sure, could I just get an iced green tea, please and thank you?” You unzip your bag and fish around.

He steers into the drive through and puts in his order at the speaker, listing off Melanie’s complicated lite syrup, half-foam, coconut milk monstrosity at the end. You pull out your wallet as he’s directed to the window.

“My treat,” he insists.

“Really, it’s just three bucks.”

“Exactly,” he insists, “you brought all those treats last night, the least I can do is buy you an iced tea.”

“Thanks,” you sniff and look out the window.

“I’ll make sure Mel gives you a call. You two can hash this out,” he stops and waits at the window, “she needs a friend like you. All the others are so… well, they’re not as nice as you.”

“Maybe, I… if she wants to call. I don’t want to bug her.”

“Bug her? Oh, sweetie, she doesn’t deserve a friend like you,” he says, “but I’m being selfish and I think you’d be a good influence.”

You nod again, put off by his tone. It’s like he’s a parent the way he talks about Melanie. Almost like he’s trying to mould her into something. Someone like him, with his name and his looks, you’re sure he could find someone who already fits right in.

The window opens and he takes the tray of drinks. He hands you yours before sliding the other two into the cup holders. He flings the cardboard tray onto the backseat and continues through the exit. He idles at the signs.

“I forgot, which way am I going?” 

You point him in the right direction, nearly sighing in relief. You’re almost home. You just want to hide away in your shame and never be perceived again.

🏙️

You’re not very surprised when Melanie doesn’t call. Not on Saturday or Sunday. You’re grateful that she doesn’t. You’re trying to forget about the movie night gone wrong. It’s probably better off. You’ve both changed a lot since high school, or maybe you haven’t changed enough.

You go through your usual. You’re not a liar, you do have chores. Dishes, laundry, floors, dusting… You keep yourself busy in an effort to block out the memory of the night. You won’t be watching Never Been Kissed ever again, that’s for sure.

Monday morning greets you with a new start but it all feels so stale. The routine is the same as the weeks before. Wake up, green tea in a thermos, pack your lunch, make yourself presentable, and out the door to catch the bus.

You enjoy the route, letting it lull your pre-work jitters. You’ve been there going on a month and somehow you still feel out-of-place. It’s not like before, where you knew all the people at your work study, or in high school where the associates in the department store joked around more than they ever did the price changes.

You stroll up to the building, slowing behind a pair of men in tailored suits. You feel like a minnow in a sea of sharks. You follow them inside as they drop the door on you. They’re important. They’re chatting about an important meeting and business trip next week. You’ll be dutifully perched at your desk, roving through spreadsheets.

The salesmen are higher up the chain than you in the ecosystem of the company. You’re somewhere along the lower-middle ground, below the lions and the hyenas. You’re off with Timon and Pumbaa, trying not to get eaten.

You step onto the elevator with them, shrinking down. You’re invisible to them. You’re not Stella in her red-soled stilettos and tight pencil skirts, or Ginnifer in her high-buns and sleek pantsuits. You feel like a little girl playing dress up even in your simple powder blue cardigan and flowered skirt.

The elevator bings and the men nearly bowl you over as they brush past you on each side. You get off after them and scurry away to your desk. You see Stella now, sipping a tall latte as she purrs at Tony. She struts down the hall ahead of him as she calls back about some expense report.

You tuck your bag under your desk and get yourself situated. You plunk down your thermos beside your mouse and boot up. You roll your ankles under the desk, your Keds soft-soled but comfortable. You can’t run for the bus in heels.

You steel yourself for another day buried in Excel columns. You sign in and push back the cap on the lid of your cup. Steam escapes and you let the heat escape before you dare taste it. You pull up your inbox and scroll through your emails. Your task list is ever longer by the day.

Your work isn’t unimportant. You give the analytics to the salesman and the big suits. You provide the numbers for their strategy but for them, all that is menial. That’s not the real meat of the company. You and all the other ants in the hill are dispensable.

You push your chair back as you reach into your bag for your notebook. As you do, the back collides with something. You quickly roll back in, knocking your head on the edge of the desk as you do. You rub your brow as you spin to face the obstruction.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you babble up at the tall man. 

He’s big, blond, and burly, and wears a suit that demarcates him as one of them. You don’t need an introduction, everyone knows who he is. The COO is memorable for more than his title. His booming voice and towering size set him apart from all the other men in their leather shoes and skinny ties.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you stand but still have to crane your neck to look at him, “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“That’s quite alright,” he smiles broadly, “are you alright? You took quite a bump.”

“Oh,” you drop your hand from your head, “yeah, I’m fine, sir. Thank you. I was just… looking for something.”

“So long as you’re alright. However, I am the safety officer, I could have a look,” he offers.

“Really, I’m fine,” you insist, “I didn’t mean to do that–”

“I didn’t mind so much,” he assures you, “I don’t know you. You’re new. Leah’s replacement?”

“Um, I think,” you look at your desk, “I wouldn’t know.”

“Of course not,” he accepts, “Thor Odinson.”

He holds out his large hand. You consider it and give him your own. Your hand is tiny in comparison as he easily wraps his fingers around it. You supply your name with a squeak.

“Ah, I like that,” he praises, “well, you have a wonderful day. And welcome to the company.”

“Yes, sir,” you rescind your hand as he releases it. His cologne wafts towards you, vanilla underscored by something woodsy.

“Thor,” he affirms.

You repeat his name and clutch your hands together. He lingers, looking you up and down, then turns on his heel. You watch him go before you sit.

You want to hold your head and hide. What did he think of you? This girl in her thin wool cardigan and lace-up sneakers. You don’t know why you care so much. He’s your boss but not directly. He’s probably already forgotten about you.

You cringe and swirl your mouse around. Focus. You’re at work. This isn’t high school or college. This isn’t about making friends and all that. It doesn’t matter what he thinks of you, your work matters.

You lean into the screen and squint at the tight boxes, increasing their size as you open a new report. For all your studying, you never saw yourself sitting there fighting with numbers all day. Percentages, rates, medians, mean… how boring.

You jolt as you feel your bag buzz against your leg. You look behind you before you push your chair out this time and bring your bag into your lap. You retrieve your notebook as you remember the cause of your first folly then fish out your phone. 

You bring down the menu and set it to silent. Before you hit lock, you see the message beaming back at you. It’s from Melanie.

‘Hey girl. Let’s talk.’

You frown. You’d already accepted that Mel was done with you. She was always good at holding a grudge, even for the slightest offence. You wonder if Clark really had talked to her. You leave it unread and tuck your phone away, dropping your bag back to the floor and shoving it away with your toes.

As you return your attention to your monitor, you sense something behind it. There, across the room, you meet Thor’s eyes as he stares at you. He has a red mug of coffee in his hand as he sips. He pulls the brim away from his lips and grins, sending a wink in your direction.

You blink and look over your shoulder. Who is he looking at? You turn back to face him again. He’s gone. Ah, whoever it was, must’ve caught up to him.

You shake off the collision and the text message. Work!

[antimony-medusa]

Okay so, the thing about Boundaries, and why people keep bringing them up over and over again to creators, is I think there's a bit of a desire for what people are doing here to not be weird. Cause like, the creator signed off on it, so like, I'm fine and you can't make fun of me or get mad at me.

And like, I understand the desire to not be made fun of or have people get mad at you, believe me, I know, but I think we have all just gotta accept that what we're doing is— it's a little weird, bro.

Like by definition what fandom is is getting a little too much into your thing. Fan comes from Fanatic. We all saw some block men and we went way too hard with it. And I think that sufficiently viewed from the outside, there is just no way to do any kind of transformational creation and it not be weird to the wrong people.

Like, taking a character and making them miserable? One of the honourable fandom traditions, whether you're whumping them or if you go hard into comfort at the end. For someone entirely outside of fandom, that's just like why are you DOING that, bro, and when you add in the fact that we're using people's real names (well, gamer tags), there's no way for that not to be odd. "The creator said it was okay" is not going to make people go ??? any less. (Let me emphasize that this is fine, it's just like, also, you bring that up on the bus and peope go ????)

Let's look at fluff. You want to write about your characters in a coffee shop au? You want to write about your characters in a cuddly family dynamic, taking care of each other? You want to age down characters and write kid fic where they learn to face the challenges of the world and it's just so cute and you love them so much even if nothing really bad happens? I promise you that my non-fandom parents are gonna be like "why are you spending your time on that" and again, if you throw in the "is this real people" (it isn't, but that is a delicate thing to explain), you're looking at people staring at you in discomprehension and backing away.

Shippy stuff. Again, one of the honourable fandom traditions. You just love your guys and you want to write about how much they love each other (or maybe make it tragic about how only one person can make it out of the cactus ring). You spent all this time thinking about their feelings writing it out. You write out a kiss scene. It makes you flail happily. Most people don't do that! Absolutely fun to do? Yes! Something you can bring up as an ice breaker at the company potluck? Probably not! We are too much into the characters, and that's fine, but it's still gonna look a bit odd from the outside!

Plotty gen. You're writing an entire new story, but you're taking existing characters for it? Like it's original fiction, but you're using existing characters? Why not just write original fiction <I have had this conversation. Oh, you're writing a story about minecraft characters, and they— they get tortured? Like it starts with them being tortured? <also a fun conversation to be in.

I'm mostly thinking about this from the fanfiction side, but art, meta— we are just getting into things way too much. We're spending hours on this stuff. We drew the creators minecraft sonas in maid dresses. There are millions of words of fiction on the archive about every conceivable universe of good/bad things happeing to the characters. It is a primary hobby, where I could be learning piano or paying attention to sports. And I'm not, and like, that's fine.

I am here to tell you that people absolutely might find what we're doing weird, and also it's entirely fine. I just ran a poll about the sexiest minecraft character that got 68k votes on the most voted poll. And then I had to explain that to my doctor to explain why I didn't really have a normal baseline for the past week to compare to. (Doctor visibly thought it was weird but he was also like "you go" because he's a good doctor, but I had to start with explaining minecraft because he knew NOTHING about what I was talking about.) You just gotta accept that fandom is for a small segment of the population, we are all having fun with ourselves, and it's for us, it's not for the general population, and stop trying to make it palatable to people who don't care to understand. People on this site keep saying "racist white boys" and then they don't have the intellectual curiosity to pursue further as to why maybe that's not true, having a boundaries post is not going to make them nicer. It's fine. They're being jerks, we're just having fun.

And like, stop trying to get the creator to sign off on it. Accept that sometimes we're being weird and they can look at it if they want to see the weird fanatics going too hard with the characters. They will tell us if we're doing something they want to stop associating with their name, and up until that point, just accept that what we're doing is weird, and have fun with it.

We're weird.

Be more weird 2k23.

Have fun with it.

I wrote a time travel AU in DMs with a friend last night about a bird man and a minecraft piglin. Not normal. It's FINE.

[elipri]

My maybe unpopular opinion is that Damian and Anyas dynamic shouldn't change in significant ways until Anya actually views Damian as a genuine friend and not a shiny prize. Because at this point her motivation isn't exactly better than all the other girls' and Damian can probably sense that, it's just that he can't figure out her why.

This post is based on a pretty interesting discussion in a DA server I'm in where some fellow fans have criticized Endo's writing, mainly because there wasn't as much impact after the bus arc as people expected (which is ofc valid crit). I just want to share what I wrote:

Late to the whole convo, but I lightly disagree that the da dynamic didn't change *at all*, however it does seem as though there wasn't as much impact from the bus arc as hoped. However, we did get some subtle shifts that should be noteworthy, namely Damian actually getting jealous and shivering at the mere *thought* of Anya getting "stolen" from him. This has never happened prior to the bus arc and is now a recurring development. That and Becky now teasing Damian in addition to cheering on Anya, especially when comparing her very open hostility towards him earlier in the story. Not only is she friendly to him now, it seems like she has seen through his crush too. I don't think that Endo will change the dynamics too much anytime soon, especially because of how little time has passed in the sxf universe. Keep in mind that damian doesn't really have a proper role model who actively helps him unlearn the toxic mindset he quite literally grew up with; the closest he'd get is his mother wishing for him to be friends with Anya too, but that is only something he heard from Jeeves and not Melinda herself. But he definitely was reflecting on that in the cake chapter. I also think that Damian is in his "I'm too grown-up for this kiddie shit" phase, he probably thinks he's better than *everyone else*, not just Anya (like him scoffing at Bill). He really doesn't want to dance with anyone and is just annoyed with all this attention imo. But he's also jealous and doesn't want Anya to dance with anyone else, but ofc won't actually admit that because he's a brat. He's just a kid with many Big Feelings™ going on that he doesn't understand and doesn't even get the privacy to unpack, so ofc he's lashing out and acting even worse than usual. I wouldn't be surprised if he just runs away in the next chapter because he's just so fed up with everything and everyone. I feel like us fans keep forgetting that Damians boundaries are straight up being pushed if not disrespected, he's been saying multiple times that he doesn't want to dance and literally everyone is ignoring him as a person with feelings (except his friends who probs set the competition up in order to reject everyone on his behalf) Nobody but his two best friends actually care about his feelings on this whole matter, he's just a shiny prize to everyone else *including* Anya.

Anyway I think Endo is saving the big dynamic change for something far more significant such as the telepathy reveal 👀