#But the people there were nice + I did half my shift ;w;

[mimiiiiiiiiisstuff]

"BIRDS OF A FEATHER"

Yall I am literally sleep deprived and I'm 90 percent sure im gonna fail my math exam. I wrote this to try and calm down but I feel like it sucks. I literally spent like 3 hours on this so be nice pls. Lmk what you think and if you have any questions! Send in asks! Love yall! Thank you for supporting my trash writing LMAO.

Prologue:,Chapter 1: Chapter 2: Chapter 3: Chapter 4:

The moment you stepped off the plane, a strange sense of dread washed over you. Gotham City. The place you had spent years trying to fit in. Here you were again, bound by some invisible force to the very people you had spent your life chasing after. "The Batfamily". The same family who had neglected you for years. Who had hurt you emotionally, time and time again, making you feel small and invisible. Making you feel worthless. And yet, now, they all seemed desperate to make things right. To make up for replacing you with Traitor Tiffany. Tiffany who stole your life, who copied everything you said and did to a T.

Tiffany who they loved for that year before she was exposed.

You were going to ignore them. For the next two weeks, you would just do your best to make it through, keeping your distance and focusing on the countdown to when you'd be back at boarding school in New York. That was your escape, your sanctuary.

But as you entered the manor, the familiar echo of its grand hall made you feel a strange weight in your chest. The vast space, once cold and intimidating, now felt like it was closing in on you. The walls, the grand staircase, and even the ancient floors seemed to watch you.

You barely had time to drop your bags in the entryway before you were ambushed by them. All of them.

“Hey!” Dick’s voice was light and cheerful, far too cheerful considering everything. You didn’t even look up at him, not even when he wrapped you in a tight hug. You didn't bother hugging him back. You weren’t sure if it was because you were tired, or because you just didn’t feel like dealing with his overbearing presence, but you kept your focus on your phone, fingers tapping away as you scrolled through messages from Ariel, Claire, and Rory

“You’re coming back in 2 weeks right? imy alr” “NYC is lame as fuck w out u. come back now.” “Call me literally everyday. two weeks is wayyyyy too long”

They didn’t know about this—your insanely weird family of spandex wearing losers. They didn’t know about Tiffany, or the spy drama, or how everything had shifted when you were 15 or that you were technically half snake. All they knew was that you were just you, and they loved you for it. This summer was the highlight of your life.

And now, here you were, trapped with them for two weeks, trying to figure out how to survive without completely losing your mind.

“Hey, kid” Dick repeated, taking a step closer, his words coming out strangely awkward and nervous. Good, he should be nervous. “come on. Let’s grab breakfast, yeah? You can’t be all that hungry, but we are. It’s family time. You wouldn’t want to miss it.” He smiled at you like you were a little kid.

You felt your lip curl into a slight frown, but you kept your eyes on your phone. Since when did this whole family breakfast include you?All you wanted to do right now was sleep. “I’m good. Not hungry.”

Bruce appeared from the shadows, his heavy footsteps echoing in the hallway before you saw his face. The expression on his face wasn’t the cold indifference you remembered. It was warm. Too warm. He tried to hug you, but you quickly dodged him like he had the cooties. He took it like a champ, brushed it off and acted like he was reaching for your Goyard.

“(Y/N),” he said quietly, like he was trying to be gentle. "We’re having breakfast together. You don’t want to miss out on the family time. It’s important that we all reconnect.”

You didn’t even look up at him. You could practically feel the weight of his words pressing down on you. Reconnect? How could they possibly want to “reconnect” after all the years of neglect? The years of pretending you didn’t exist?

“I’m just fine here,” you muttered, fingers still flying across the screen as you tried to walk up the stairs.

Bruce didn’t take the hint. “Come on. You should eat something. It’s good for you.”

You wanted to snap at him, tell him you were tired of being treated like a child. But you didn’t. You were too tired for all that. Instead, you sighed. "I said I’m fine. I ate on the plane.”

Jason’s voice cut through the tension, his ever-present smirk on his face as he sauntered into the room, tossing his jacket over his shoulder. "Damn, it’s already this bad?" He raised an eyebrow at Bruce, then smirked at you. “Come on, little bird, you’re too grown up for us now, huh? Don’t you want to at least pretend to like us? Have too much fun over in St. Tropez? Too cool to hang out with your big brother?”

You rolled your eyes at his antics, suddenly annoyed. "Actually, yeah. Ya'll are lowkey losers." You were harsher than necessary but you wanted to make sure Jason got the hint. Make it known you haven't really forgiven him.

They were all obviously taken aback by your new attitude and mean girl habits, all too shocked to say anything.

Tim followed behind Jason, his ever-curious eyes flicking from you to Bruce, then to Dick. He looked like he wanted to say something, but instead just shrugged, settling into a lean against the wall.

“You don’t have to join us, but it’s not like you have a choice,” he added, his voice calm but firm, like he was waiting for you to push back. “We’re not letting you hide in your room forever.”

You scoffed, "So i don't have a choice. Bit of a contradiction there, smartass."

Your sure you heard Bruce mutter something about language but Tim simply side-eyed you and brushed it off, his confidence unwavering.

Cass entered next, moving quietly, as always. But her gaze, there was something in it. A kind of quiet insistence, like she wanted to make sure you didn’t slip away unnoticed. You’d always hated how silent she was, how intense her focus could be.

“Breakfast,” she said, her tone not quite a question, not quite a statement. It was just her way of saying we’re doing this, whether you want to or not.

You groaned, slumping a little as you looked up from your phone. “I’m literally only here for two weeks. I don’t need to sit with you guys at every meal. That's so lame.”

At that, Bruce stepped closer. His hand rested on your shoulder, a touch so gentle you barely felt it, but the weight of it was enough to make your heart skip. “You’re staying here for two weeks, and we’re all going to make the most of this time,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “You’re part of this family. And that means we all spend time together. You don’t get to hide anymore.”

The room seemed to grow quieter, and you could feel the heat of everyone’s attention on you. They were all looking at you—waiting for you to say something, do something. It was unsettling. Unbearable.

You finally snapped, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “I just want to talk to my friends, okay?” You waved your phone at them. “We were actually having a conversation before all of you interrupted.”

A soft laugh escaped Damian's lips, but it wasn’t kind. “You’ve got better things to do than talk to those people. You have to make up for your misconduct from last time. And tell us what you did while in St. Tropez.” There he goes again, speaking like an 80 year old man.

You felt a sudden wave of unease as you glanced at him, then at Jason and Tim. They both seemed to be looking at your phone with a sharp intensity. What was that about?

You tried to ignore it. You had to. But the more you looked at your friends’ messages, the more you realized that even your phone couldn’t offer you peace here. Bruce was standing too close. Dick’s eyes wouldn’t leave you. Tim was still leaning against the wall, his gaze locked on you with that knowing, calculating look that made your stomach twist.

Jason finally broke the silence with a lazy, teasing grin. “Don’t be a brat. You don’t need to text anyone right now, you've been gone two months. You've got me now.”

You rolled your eyes again and you couldn't stop the words from slipping out, "Oh yeah jason? How long have i got you for? Till some shiny new sister comes in? Or will you expire before that? Do I get you for 2 weeks or 3 or-"

Jason's face fell, he obviously thought he was forgiven just because of your conversation the night before you left and because you replied to his messages occasionally.

Bruce stepped forward cutting you off, taking pity on jason, "Enough. I understand your frustration, but we are trying. Let us try before you shut us out." He said his tone stern, he was demanding a chance to redeem himself, not asking.

Before you could protest, Damian spoke up, his voice still a bit too soft for comfort. “You will stay here with us. You’ll see, it’ll be better for you.”

Punk. If he was a normal kid brother, you would've long made him stop talking to you like that.

You gritted your teeth, fangs coming out and stood up from the couch, locking your phone and stuffing it into your pocket. “Fine,” you muttered, “I’ll go to breakfast. But don’t expect me to start liking all this.”

Bruce smiled, just slightly. It was subtle, but there was something behind it. Something that made your skin crawl.

“Good,” he said, his voice almost too soothing. “We’re all here for you now.”

You walked toward the dining room with Bruce close behind you, his hand on your lower back as if ensuring you wouldn't runaway, a small, constant pressure that felt both grounding and suffocating. You wanted to shrug it off, but the thought of doing that in front of the others was too much. The others who were still watching, still waiting. You could almost feel their eyes on you like they were tracking your every movement, waiting for any sign of resistance.

As you passed through the grand entryway, you could hear Alfred’s familiar voice calling from the kitchen, his tone as warm and fatherly as ever. “Ah, there you are, Young Miss. I’ve made your favorite this morning. Scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and Pancakes” He turned to face you with a soft smile, but it faltered when he noticed the scowl on your face. “I hope you’re feeling well. It’s important that you eat something substantial, especially after a long flight.”

You nodded noncommittally, forcing a smile. “Thanks, Alfred. I’m not really hungry, though���”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll change your mind once you see it,” Alfred said with a knowing wink. “Come now, don’t make me chase you down for a seat.”

He motioned for you to sit at the table. Dick, already seated with a glass of juice, grinned at you like you were a little kid being coaxed into something.

“Come on, just sit,” he said, motioning to the empty chair next to him. “It’ll be fun. It’s family time, remember?”

You could feel the weight of their expectations pressing down on you. It was suffocating. You didn’t want to be here. You didn’t want to play along with their sudden act of being a family after years of neglect. But you knew if you didn’t sit, if you didn’t comply in some way, they would only dig in their heels harder.

You sat down, pulling your chair in with a slight sigh. You didn’t want to, but it felt like the lesser of two evils. Jason gave you a little smirk from across the table, while Tim and Damian were already deeply engaged in a quiet conversation, glancing at you occasionally as if waiting to see how you'd react.

He spoke again, voice bright, like he was trying to lift the mood. "So, … what’s new with you? I bet you’ve been busy, huh? Euro summer? Did you have fun?" He smiled at you, but there was something in his eyes, something that lingered a little too long, like he was waiting for a response he had already anticipated.

You felt like a child that stole cookies from the cookie jar, "Yeah pretty fun. Didn't do much though." You shrugged trying to sound casual.

Bruce sat at the head of the table, the others falling into place around you. His gaze lingered on you for a moment, almost searching, before he turned his attention to the food. He wasn’t pushing, not yet. But there was a quiet, insistent presence in the way he looked at you.

“You know, (Y/N), it’s not just about the food. It’s about spending time together,” Bruce said, the softness in his voice unusual, almost too gentle for someone like him. “This is important. It’s part of being a family. We’ve missed you.”

You didn’t respond immediately. You didn’t know what to say. It all felt so fake. The kindness, the attempts to bond—it was all wrapped up in a layer of suffocating control.

Dick spoke again, trying to make you crack, to bring out the oversharer in you he remembered, "Any plans? Got anything to do?"

You shrugged, offering him only a brief glance before focusing on your plate. "Nothing much. Just school stuff."

"School stuff?" Bruce’s voice cut through, the sternness returning as his eyes bore into you. "What do you mean by ‘school stuff’? You’re not getting into trouble, are you?"

Your eyes flicked to him, and for a moment, you could feel the weight of his gaze. It was almost protective, but you didn't want that anymore. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. You were done with the overbearing dad act. You were 16 now—not a little girl who needed constant monitoring. You didn't need his attention, not anymore.

You picked up your fork and took a bite of the scrambled eggs, more out of habit than actual hunger. They were good, just like Alfred’s cooking always was. But the taste felt like nothing in your mouth.

“I was texting my friends,” you said quietly, breaking the silence, your eyes flicking to your phone where the notifications from your friends were still blowing up. “They wanted to check I got here okay. I—”

Bruce cut you off before you could say more. “We understand that, ” he said, his voice low but firm, like a quiet warning. “But right now, you’re with us. And this time, we don’t want you distracted by those friends. You were with them for 3 months. It's family time now.”

You blinked at him, feeling a little breathless at the sudden sharpness of his words. Was that... affection? It was subtle, but it was there, in the way he spoke. It made your chest tighten. There was never family time before, at least none that included you.

“Don’t be rude,” Dick interjected, his tone light but with an edge of something else. He was looking at you more seriously now, no longer the playful older brother. “You can text your friends later. But right now, you’re here with us. And you’re going to enjoy it.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but your phone buzzed again in your pocket, and this time, it was an unknown number. You pulled it out reluctantly, glancing at the screen. It was a guy from your European trip, the french prince, one you had been texting occasionally during the summer.

But before you could even open the message, Damian’s sharp eyes caught sight of the name, and his expression hardened just slightly. He straightened, his voice suddenly tight. “Who is that?”

You looked up at him, eyebrows furrowing. Nosy much? “None of your fucking business,” you snapped without thinking.

The room went quiet. Too quiet. Everyone’s eyes were on you now, and you could feel the heat of their gazes like a thousand little pricks against your skin.

“Don’t get upset, (Y/N),” Bruce’s voice was almost soothing, but there was a new intensity to it. “We just care about you. You don’t need to talk to them all the time. You’re not going to be alone anymore.”

It wasn’t just a promise,—it was an expectation. . You realized, with growing unease, that it was a practically a threat.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed in your pocket. Again. The sound was a welcome distraction, but you knew exactly what it was: a flood of texts from Ariel, Claire, and Rory. You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you could sneak a glance without drawing too much attention. Should you risk it after what happened not even a minutes ago? But before you could decide, Bruce’s eyes locked onto yours.

“Let me see that,” he said, his voice smooth but commanding. It wasn’t a request. “Who are you talking to?”

You froze for a split second, caught off guard by his intensity. The entire table fell silent, all eyes on you. You hadn’t realized how quiet they had gotten until now.

You hesitated before responding and quickly shoved your phone out of reach. “It’s just my friends from school, the ones I spent the summer with.”

Only after you explained did you realize that you didn't owe him an explanation.

Jason raised an eyebrow, his playful tone dropping just enough to sound dangerous. “Really? Because it looks like you’re texting someone from Europe, given the country code and all.”

Your heart skipped. You had been texting Ariel, and now your friends were practically spamming you in the group chat. "The girls!!" you named it that just to be petty after leaving the one with Barbra, Cass, and Steph. You didn't even think about how it might look to the family, who had all but cornered you into their web of attention. You didn’t want to admit it, but now you felt the pressure. How long would they keep this up?

“I’m not doing anything wrong,” you muttered, finally pulling your phone out and swiping away from the notifications, deciding to put it on Do Not Disturb around these psychos. You had a sudden, uncomfortable sense of guilt, like they were expecting you to explain yourself to them.

It was quiet and awkward for the rest of breakfast.

The morning after breakfast felt like an eternity. You had expected them to back off, to give you space after your little outburst, but no. The Batfamily had different plans. They were relentless. They didn’t just want to bond with you; they needed to bond with you. It was like a mission they had assigned themselves, as if they could somehow erase the years of neglect in just two weeks.

You knew better than to expect anything close to normal from them. But this was too much.

It started innocently enough, Bruce knocking on your room door, his usual stoic expression softening when he saw you sitting on the edge of your bed, surrounded by your belongings. You had been trying to shut out the noise of the manor, scrolling through your phone, ignoring the countless texts from your guys you met and the relentless buzz of Gotham in your head.

“Hey,” he said, his voice smooth, but there was a hint of something in it. Concern? Hope? You didn’t want to figure it out.

“Can we talk?”

You didn’t even look up, too busy focusing on the group chat from the girls. You weren’t ready to face him. Or anyone else. Especially not after breakfast. They all thought they had it figured out.

“You can talk to me while I’m on my phone,” you said flatly. “I’m busy.”

Bruce didn’t even flinch at your indifference. He took a step inside, shutting the door behind him as he sat on the edge of your bed. His presence felt heavy, like he was trying to make himself at home in a space that wasn’t his.

“You know, we’ve missed you, these two months felt like two years” he started softly, like that would somehow change the years of absence between you two. “I know this has been hard for you, but we’re trying. I’m trying. I’m just... trying to make up for lost time.” His hand hovered over the space next to you, but you didn’t budge.

“Stop trying so hard. You’re not going to fix anything, Bruce,” you muttered, your fingers tapping away on the screen.

“I don’t need to fix anything,” His voice was gentler now. “I just want to be here for you.”

Your eyes flicked over to him, and for a moment, you saw the guilt in his eyes. He was fighting against something, holding back. He was being real, honest. But you couldn’t let it get to you.

“I don’t need you to be here,” you said, your tone icy. “I’m not some little kid who needs you hovering over me, not anymore.”

He sighed, the disappointment in his voice sharp. "I know. I know, kid. But you are my daughter. And I’m not going to let you go through this alone. Not again. Especially with your..... abilities.”

The words felt like bullets, it hurt, the more he spoke the more you hurt. You just wanted him to go away.

The awkward silence that followed stretched on too long. Finally, Bruce stood up. His eyes lingered on you one last time before he opened the door. “Okay, but just know, I’m here when you’re ready to talk. I'll always be here.”

For the next two weeks, the family got more insistent on spending time with. The only thing that kept you going was that it would be over soon, or so you thought.

Damian was always the silent observer. The kid who knew how to push all your buttons without saying a word, the little brother who constantly attacked and ridiculed you.

One evening, he shows up at your door, a subtle shift in his body language telling you something’s up. His eyes soften, and you can tell he’s trying to break down the walls, bit by bit.

"Move over," he said, his voice devoid of its usual bite. Instead, it carried a strange urgency. He was holding a pillow, clutching onto it like a lifeline.

You narrowed your eyes, a growl rising in your throat. What the hell does he want now?

“No. What’s your problem?” You shot him a glare, rolling over on your bed, trying to make it clear you had no interest in him being there.

He didn’t move. He just stood there, waiting.

"Come on," he says flatly, crossing his arms, a rare hint of vulnerability in his tone. "It’s just for a little while. You used to bother me about this, don’t be so difficult now."

“Why are you always so insistent on being a brat? I've forgiven you for attacking me,” he muttered, stepping closer. “When we were younger, you always insisted on cuddling, begged for it even, always tried hugging me. You’ve grown up, yes, but that doesn’t mean things should change.”

When you refuse, Damian has none of it. He steps inside, closes the door behind him, and sits on your bed without asking. His demeanor is as sharp as ever, but his eyes flick to you constantly, waiting, hoping for some sign of compromise.

He walked toward the bed, pulling the blankets aside as if he was entitled to your space. You felt a flicker of that old resentment stir inside you, but the pressure of everything else, the family trying so hard to pretend everything was fine, Bruce’s repeated insistence on your bonding, the suffocating feeling that had followed you since you arrived, made you just want to give in.

You scoffed. “I grew up because you wouldn’t leave me alone when I was younger. You used to beat me up for trying to get close, remember? You literally threw me down a set of stairs. You never wanted to ‘bond’ then.”

He tilted his head slightly, his lips twisting into a brief frown. “Because you were insufferable.” His voice softened, a little, but still cold. “But I’m not the same as I was. Neither are you.

And then, without warning, he scoots closer, his shoulders stiff, as if awaiting your wrath. You almost let out a laugh; he still hasn't realized that maybe you don't want the cuddles anymore. But his face betrays something else: a quiet desperation. You could almost feel his need for connection, like he’s trying to make up for all those years.

He shifts awkwardly, a hand touching his hair, trying to mimic what you once did: the slight tap on his shoulder, the gentle nudge. But as he waits for you to break, you just stare at him, no words exchanged.

And that’s when he did something you didn’t expect: he laid down beside you, just like when you did to him when you were younger. He didn’t ask for permission, didn’t even seem to care that you clearly were about to strangle him.

You went still, your heart pounding as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into an uncomfortable cuddle. You wanted to push him off, but you couldn’t, not when he was being so vulnerable.

Instead, you just shut your eyes, and let the anger mix with the humiliation. You wouldn't admit it, but it felt nice.

Dick was the first to bombard you with affection every morning for two weeks straight. He’s like the human embodiment of sunshine, and you can’t help but feel the weight of his unrelenting kindness. He tries to coax you into breakfast, brunch, lunch, dinners... you name it. His tactic? Overload you with so much “family time” that eventually, you’ll give in.

He makes it a point to show you that he’s willing to work on your relationship. Every morning he’s there with a bright, goofy grin, telling you stories of his past adventures. He tries, in vain, to get you laughing with ridiculous anecdotes about the circus, Batman, and his early days in the Teen Titans. He stopped once you asked him for Connor's number and another topless picture if him.

At night, he tries to “reconnect” by suggesting game nights or silly activities like arts and crafts. “Come on, you loved painting when you were younger!” he’d say, pushing a small set of watercolor paints toward you, clearly hoping for a nostalgic response. But you’re not having it. You just roll your eyes and text your friends, but he stays close by, watching. He doesn’t pressure you, but you can feel his eyes lingering, waiting for the moment when you finally break.

But the moments are few, and even though you keep pushing him away, there’s a slight glimmer in his eyes every time he talks about when you’ll finally bond.

You avoided Duke like the plague, hiding everytime he came too close looking to hopeful. His betrayal was too fresh.

Jason tried to appeal to you in ways that are typical of him: snark, sarcasm, and outright bad-boy energy. He brings up old memories he knows you cherish, things that will make you cave. He walks around the manor like he owns the place, tossing out insults and lighthearted teasing every time you pass by. He’ll try to lure you into movie nights, always choosing the most ridiculously bad action movies, or challenge you to random things in the game room.

“Bet you can’t beat me in this game,” he’ll say, tossing a controller at you. “Come on, I’m the pro around here.”

It’s his way of bonding, of trying to “get you” in his own unique, unpredictable way. He also, strangely, gives you random moments of tenderness, moments that remind you of the old Jason, grabbing your shoulder when you least expect it, offering a smirk that’s soft when no one’s looking. But like everything else, it’s hard to believe this is real.

Your trust and abandonment issues ran too deep to believe any of them were genuine, though they all clearly were.

After a particularly annoying spat one day, where you ignored him all day, he jokingly announced, “If you didn’t have that attitude, maybe we could actually have a decent time. Just saying.”

In moments like that, you feel the thrum of tension in the air, the frustration of someone trying to connect with you and the knowledge that you're just too far gone to care right now. Now he felt how you did. Still, Jason's persisted and it’s obvious he won’t give up anytime soon.

Your entire existence had become one giant performance for them. The two weeks finally came to an end and so did your torture. You and the girls spent all night calling as you packed and they planned you a 'freedom celebration' that would start as soon as you got to Rory's house.

The two weeks really were torture, from the moment you woke up to the moment you went to sleep, it was like you were the star of a reality show you never agreed to. Every time you tried to slip away, to find some peace of mind, they were there, trying to draw you back in.

Alfred had begun preparing “family dinners,” encouraging you to join in at the table, asking you questions about your life like they hadn’t been absent for years.

Dick insisted on taking you out on family outings, making sure you were included in everything from movie nights to visits to the Gotham Zoo.

Cass would show up randomly in your room with little presents, a sketchbook, or a necklace. “For you,” she’d say with her quiet smile, a silent plea for you to forgive them.

Tim’s persistent attempts to engage you in every intellectual conversation, trying to get you to talk about everything and nothing at once, began to feel like a strange form of manipulation.

And Jason? Jason kept throwing out random quips, trying so hard to get a rise out of you, until the sarcasm wore thin and left a bitter taste in your mouth. It wasn’t funny anymore.

You couldn't wait to leave.

The morning of your flight, Bruce called you into his office, a serious expression on his face. “Good Morning,” he began, his voice a little too calm. “I need to talk to you about something.”

You stared at him, confused. “What?”

“You’re not going back to boarding school,” he said quietly, locking eyes with you. “It’s not safe. Tiffany escaped and is working with Patience again. They’ll come for you. They’ll come for all of us.”

Your blood ran cold. Tiffany. The girl who had stolen your life. The one who had tried to replace you. The one who had made everything about her and who had tricked the Batfamily into thinking she was you. Now she was ruining your escape.

“No. I’m not staying,” you spat. “I can’t be here. I won’t be here.”

“You have to stay here,” Bruce said, his voice firm, unwavering. “For your safety.”

“You can’t do this!” you screamed, jumping up from your seat, your fangs flashing as your emotions took over. “I don’t want to stay here! I want to go back! I’ll be fine in New York! You can’t keep me here!

But Bruce wasn’t backing down. His tone remained soft, even as the finality of his words sank in. “You’re staying in Gotham. And you’ll go to Gotham Prep. It’s safer.”

“No!” You felt the weight of your anger burst out of you. The room seemed to shrink. “I’m not going to Gotham Prep. I won’t stay here. I won’t live in this—prison!”

Tears welled in your eyes, hot and angry, and you could feel the pressure building inside you, the need to break free. But as your eyes met Bruce's, you realized—he was immune. He didn’t look scared of your fangs. He didn’t fear your powers, he didn't fall into your manipulation.

You later found out from Jason that Tim and Damian had been working on a serum, after what happened with Tiffany. A serum that made them immune to your powers.

There was no escaping now, not till you were 18 and Tiffany behind bars.

Taglist:

@strwberryglass @lilithquillete @delias-stuff @bellatrixmld @damainwayneisthebestrobin @kittzu @lilyalone @yokesmam @sanjisluvbot @facelessisnthere @dollwhite @superstarbucks

@angelunatic @littledollete @cutelittlesugarfairy @darbystrange @sxftiebee @zealous0mouse @trashlanternfish360 @galaxygirlsblog @euphoria-looney @1simpchunkygirl @a-lurking-fae @analuixxy @naturallyspontaneous @horror-lover-69 @pastel-mouse @ladyrosemone @frankie-moon3 @catley1011 @justannie18 @yandereaficionado @ithoughtthinks @asdfghjklgayblog @shadowyknightbeargoth @peche4et3chocolat @boredselkie @rogueofbullshit @iamabeaner @rosesunderthegarden

[bigwishes]

Big's Perma Bulk!

(Community Requested Story, about me perma bulking) What's good bros! It's your favourite wish granting genie here to go on my own transformation journey. Normally I send this kind of thing off to another writer but a lot of you wanted me to be transformation using my own Genie gifts so I've waved my hands and started it off.

I made sure to completely forget about what you guys wanted for me to make it even more surprising but considering all you lot drool at a bicep vein I think I'm in good hands.

After waking up I definitely didn't have anything to worry about. I knew all of you just wanted me to become some big sweaty himbo. Just take a look.

Big arms, thick thighs and a solid chest. I won't lie if I were to make a choice I would of ended up so much bigger than this but hey, it's what you all wanted to I guess I gotta get used to being a himbo stud.

Woah...I guess day two was a little different. I'm a lot bigger ladz so cheers for that but damn, some of this definition is starting to fade. It looks like I'm sliding more to the tank side of the spectrum that the stud side. I'm pretty sure if I move wrong this tank is gonna split in too and my fucking stomach won't stop rumbling, every time I walk in my kitchen I down half a box of cereal, fuck, I should probably take a couple sandwiches back to my desk before I load up some games with the boys.

'BUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRPP'

aw fuck, sorry about that ladz but damn. I woke up this morning and my stomach feels so tight, it feels like my abs are about to split in half. My shorts are so tight around my ass.

Damn what the fuck did you guys wish to happen to me? A slab of muscle instead of abs is one thing but fuck my gut is so bloated, ah man

'UURRRRRRRRRRPP!!!'

whoops, sorry dudes, fuck this is so tight but I still feel hungry, maybe a protein shake and a bowl of rice wont gut, surely this can't get any tighter.

ahhh fuck what time is it? 3am?? why the fuck am I so hungry. I didn't even know it was possible to feel hungry and bloated at the same-

BUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPP

ah man, what do I have in the fridge, mmmmm half a pizza, well I'm sure a couple of slices won't hurt. I hit the gym pretty hard today, its probably my body wanting to fuel up. mmm yeah just 3 maybe 6 slices and I'll be good for the night, probably best to turn the light switch on so I don't make a mess...

w--what the fuck happened to me! JESUS FUCKING CHRIST I'M SO FUCKING BULKY, OH FUCK

UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRPPP

DAMN....fuck well....at least it doesn't jiggle, probably just bloated from how much I've been eating recently, who knew having such big muscles would make me so hungry all the time...

hmmm, I probably shouldn't leave just 3 slices of pizza in the fridge on their, own, that's not even a snack, 9 slices is alright at this time of night yeah?

On the bright side, my muscles have continued to blow up to freakish size, my bicep is bigger than most dude's heads. On the other hand....I can't shift this tank around my mid section. I've been trying to eat less to get my abs back but fuck I can't help it, my stomach growls and I gotta eat enough to feed at least 3 people or else it feels like my stomach is gonna eat itself. It's okay, Ill just cut when summer rolls around, use this time to grow as big as I can, bet my abs will look fucking insane in a few months/

Guess the bright side is I can order that nice chocolate cake with my pizza tonight...I'm pretty sure it's cheat night tonight, or was it last night? hmm, no yeah it is definitely tonight?

UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPP

ah fuck, wh- UUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRPPPPP

what happened - uurp - to me?

a few *hic* days ago I was a lean mean lifting machine

BUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRPPPPPPPPP

and now...fuck *hic* uuurp- I'm a big, bulky brute

fuu-UUUUUUUURPPPP-ck, my gut is so tight, moving feels like a chore....I'm so fuckin stuffed and hungry at the same time. Who knew my fans would want me to blow up into a 300lsb bulky beast...

damn...I need a shower but, I could really go for a double cheese burger and a snickers protein thick shake, I'm sure it can wait -uuurrpp- maybe I should grab a couple protein bars for the road..

BUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPP!!!!

I can still feel the spell under my skin, I wonder how much bigger these guys will make me, or what else they'll do...

[snifferish]

Never in my life did I think that re-tweeting resources for SA, and supporting victims would be considered problematic or performative.

I should not have to bare this, but I'm going to tell just one of my stories, because I need you to understand where I'm coming from. TW // Sexual Harassment

--

When I was 15, I had my wisdom teeth removed. I wanted to avoid using the pain medication they prescribed. I struggle a lot with sensory issues, medications and substances made it worse.

However, my surgery was for impacted teeth, and only two days in one of my stitches fell out. I was in so much pain, and couldn't eat solids w/ out pain for up to three weeks.

So, a week into my recovery, one of my friends invites me to their house. They were having our friend group over, it was just a little bonfire get together kinda thing. I took my pain meds a few hours prior, and only half a dose, but I was out of it to some degree, and somehow still in pain.

I was sitting on a lawn chair outside, when one of my close friends came over and asked to sit on my lap. Honestly, I said yes at first, because this was my childhood friend, someone I trusted, and I thought our relationship was incredibly platonic. Then he started to shift/grind about in my lap, and I started to feel things of theirs I did not want to. They made a noise that deeply unsettled me, and I told him to get off, they didn't. It was only when I told them that he accidently triggered the emergency call shortcut on my phone (it was in the pocket of the lawn chair, yes they were moving that much and I was moving trying to push him off) that he finally got up.

I was bewildered, and a bit confused, and also embarrassed that my phone nearly called 911. I claimed I wasn't feeling well, and went home early.

That was the first time someone touched me in a remotely sexual way, but I didn't dare to label it until I talked to my therapist. It made me dwell on a lot of experiences with this person as well. How obsessed they were with being taller than me, how often they'd grab me and force me to see if they were stronger than me. At the time, I was in a friend group of predominately non-men, and they were all friends with this person.

However, when I told them about this, when I expressed the discomfort it brought me. I was brushed off. "He's just like that!" oh "He probably didn't mean it" etc.

I didn't feel comfortable in the same room as this person. My friends would continue to invite them to hang outs. One of my other friends told everyone about what happened without my permission. I started having breakdowns in my classes with him. I had panic attacks all the time. I felt as if I had to continue this façade of being nice to him, or else I would lose my friends of years and years.

I was happy when covid started, because for the first time I had breathing room, but by then so much of my trust was dismantled.

Due to my friends association with this person, and the fact that not being their friend excluded me. I eventually got over it, and told myself I'd grown past it.

Three months ago, this same person admitted to me they hold extreme grudges against me, that they projected their "mommy issues" on to me, and quite literally said the words, "Yeah yeah, you're a woman who's outspoken and challenged me and that bothers me yeah yeah." in regards to that. They said it with sarcasm, like it was something they knew, and their mother was reminding them for the 12th time.

--

I bring this all up, not to make you feel guilty, but to discuss the harm of not supporting victims, not listening to them. It puts them in a position of isolation, and in a position to potentially be hurt again.

So yeah, I'm gonna be a little upset when people say I'm being "performative" about supporting victims of sexual harassment and SA. I'm not doing this because it benefits me, in fact it's caused a lot of backlash, horrible dms, and very triggering memories.

I'm doing it because I was once not heard, and i've sat with Caiti behind the scenes for months watching her lose passion for something she loved (content creation).

I didn't do this because I'm secretly sniveling behind the scenes tapping my fingers praying on peoples downfall. I'm not a Disney villain dude lmfao.

Honestly, this narrative that is being pushed, that people are doing it "because it benefits them" is quite ironic, considering most of the people talked about within the last 72 hours were under Wilbur's weird ass apology doing just that.

I hate it, I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. I hate how people are okay with this narrative, the misogynist undertones of it. I've seen people admit that they didn't like me or my friends the entire time, while simultaneously "calling us out" about this, so I ask you,

Are you calling us? Because it benefits your motives? Your feelings?

[peachhcs]

self care night with Samy and Will

semi straying off the ask but i can picture them doing the most mundane things together like samy painting her nails while will chills on her bed playing a video game and they're just talking and i think that would be super cute

au masterlist

samy and will didn't need to do a lot to please one another. the couple would always be perfectly fine sitting in one of their rooms together staying in than going out trying to do something, so that was exactly what they did. the younger hughes sat at her desk painting her nails while the sounds of will's video game on the tv above her head played in the background. she had a soft hum of music coming from her phone to replace the shooting sounds of will's game, and even though they weren't talking, they were still enjoying one another's presence.

growing up as best friends first made it really easy for the two to not need to always fill the silence with one of them talking. will did his thing and samy did hers.

"what do you think so far?" the brunette spun in her chair with her hand held up. will paused the game.

"they look nice. i like the pink," he smiled.

"do you think it looks tacky? i don't know i feel like this pink is like really bright," the girl admitted.

"no, it's very you. i like it," will reassured so samy took his word for it and started on her other hand. as long as one person liked it, that was all that mattered to her.

she could hear the sounds of his game resume.

"when do you spring exhibition games start?" he broke the silence a moment later, his focus now shifting between the game and her.

"in two weeks," the girl hummed.

"this is definitely a dumb question, but what is the difference between these and regular season?" will knew he probably should've known the answer considering samy's been doing this for years now.

"uhh..well in college it's not as many games and more of a way for the team to experiment with different plays and lineups. lots of skill development. back when i was in the spring season in high school, it was all the same just different teams," samy explained and will nodded.

"okay, makes sense. i guess i just didn't know because hockey goes year long and we don't really have a spring season," the blonde chuckled and the girl flashed him a quick smile.

"you know sometimes every so often i do wonder what life would've been like had i decided to stay in it," it wasn't a thought that plagued the girl's mind all the time and she was very happy with her team and soccer, but sometimes she did wonder.

the thought made will pause his game again and samy found his glance again when she heard the sounds die out for a moment. "do you ever regret it?"

"no, i wouldn't say regret. i love soccer. maybe i just miss being on the ice regularly and i wish i could've just seen a peak of that timeline," samy shrugged a bit.

"not saying i don't love watching you on the field, i do miss seeing you on the ice too. i think a lot of people do sometimes," will smiled softly.

"i know, i always see the comments whenever i get asked about hockey and my brothers about how much people would've loved to see me flourish."

will completely disregarded his game for the moment and scooted closer to the edge of the bed. samy chuckled at his action and looked at him quizzically.

"you okay?"

"i'm fine. just wanted to admire you a little bit closer," his words earned a small flush on her cheeks. so cheesy as always.

she ran her dried hand down the side of his face to briefly cup his chin. the slight stubble that will decided to let grow was a bit rough on her even drier palm (winters always made samy's skin dry.)

"how long are you gonna keep this up?" the soccer player teased some, feeling the hair again.

"do you like it?" will asked half serious, half not.

samy's small hesitation was all will needed to know and the two shared a laugh, "i don't hate it, but.." she let her voice fade off.

"noted. i'll probably shave tomorrow."

"maybe it will grow on me. who knows. how are you feeling about the rest of the season?" samy changed the subject, will leaning back again and shrugging.

"i feel fine. i think whatever the outcome is will make me happy. i learned a lot this season and i think it will only make me better for next season."

"good. i'm glad to hear that. i know some of it hasn't been exactly what you hoped for," being in the nhl was no joke and will knew that. he knew how big of a jump it would be from a year of collegiate to playing with the big guys.

sure, it was still a bit hard going from one of the best to a rookie trying to find his footing alongside the #1 overall draft pick. that wasn't easy, but will was figuring it out.

"it's all been a learning process. i'm really grateful for that team and just knowing i can have fun sometimes and to not take all of it too seriously. i like it. it's my dream," samy smiled hearing her boyfriend say that.

"i'm really glad you've found your footing somewhat. it's not easy and i think you've been doing really great," she pinched his knee.

"thank you. that means a lot coming from you," will smiled gently.

"okay, how do they look fully finished," samy held out both of her hands that were now bright pink on all fingernails. the hockey player leaned forward to examine them.

"they look great. i love it," he kissed her hand.

"ew, don't do that. my hands are so dry," samy pulled them back and subconsciously rubbed the dry scales of her skin.

"have you been putting lotion on them?" will asked.

"yes! they're just so dry all the time. i don't know what to do," she frowned, but will pulled her hands back to his much to samy's dismay.

"well i don't think it's gross or anything. it happens. it's winter," he kissed her hands again and now samy blushed. she reached up to cup his face again to bring him to her lips.

"i love you."

"i love you too," the boy didn't let her go after the peck. he kissed her a little deeper, the small buzz both of them always felt when they kissed erupting through their chests.

it was starting to get a bit heated, will wanting more and samy reciprocating his actions without a second thought.

"hey samy do you know if—" hannah's voice quickly snapped them apart while the duke sister stood in the doorway eyes wide and filled with regret that she walked in at the wrong time.

"shit..my bad. my bad. i will..ask you later. not important," she spun on her heel before the couple could even say anything.

samy's face burned in embarrassment.

"some things just never change do they?" will laughed and he bet that the interruptions would finally end whenever samy and will lived somewhere alone where roommates wouldn't walk in on them.

[yongbokology]

baby daddy! satoru x baby mama! reader

black coded reader <3

warnings; none really, just fluff tbh

wc; 1.1k

an: maybe i’ll write a part where the actual baby making takes place if this doesn’t flop 🤷🏾‍♀️

* baby daddy! satoru who looks at you with wide eyes as you show up to his apartment with a positive pregnancy test. before this situation you both were friends with benefits for a year and some change; having met him during your shift at the bar you currently work at.

* baby daddy! satoru who nearly falls over once you decide that you want to keep it (after all, it’s him we’re talking about)

* baby daddy! satoru who respects your decision after the initial shock and let’s it be known that’s he not going to be a deadbeat… (unlike someone)

“please don’t tell me we have to get married.”

you roll your eyes as you continue to clean the used shot glasses left behind by patrons.

“i’d rather self amputate my arms and legs, satoru.”

* baby daddy! satoru who tries to make it to as much doctors appointments as he can— sometimes even taking off of work for them.

“so, you’re currently at the end of your first trimester. everything is looking good, baby is looking healthy. any questions?” the doctor smiles sweetly at the both of you as she looks through yours and the baby’s charts.

satoru sits up from his chair, eyes perking up in the process “how long until you can tell if it’s going to be the most powerful being in the world?”

“satoru!”

“what… just curious..”

* baby daddy! satoru who secretly buys everything on your registry.

* baby daddy! satoru who watches you marvel at everything he bought, acting surprised with you.

* baby daddy! satoru who poses the idea of the both of you having a place together after a serious talk with shoko.

“don’t you think it would be safer for both her and the baby? y’know cuz you’re practically cursed.” a freshly lit newport hangs off her lips as she eyes her old friend.

“what?! i’m not cursed..”

“think about it— the world shifted off kilter when you were born. people were quite literally planning your murder before you could walk. you don’t think they’ll be rubbing their hands at the chance to get at your offspring?”

satoru breaks his friend’s stare and chooses silence, opting to take another bite out of his onigiri.

* baby mama! reader who accepts the offer because you’re literally just a twenty-something girl trying to navigate this unfair world, living paycheck to paycheck (😪)

— fear not tho because baby daddy! satoru got his baby mama covered!

* baby mama! reader who gets to know satoru more since moving in and he’s honestly such an interesting character.

* baby mama! reader who thinks it’s truly nice seeing him for who he was rather than him being a complete whiny mess after an orgasm for a change.

“do you just starve yourself all day? there’s literally nothing here to eat, toru!” you have your hand placed on six month old pregnant stomach and the other is holding open his stupidly expensive smart fridge that currently has one singular bento box that is half eaten.

“i don’t know how to cook!”

“good lord, what am i going to do with you?”

* baby mama! reader who takes off from the bar after satoru essentially pleads on his knees for you to stay home.

- he eventually convinces you to quit altogether.

* baby mama! reader who learns the truth about satoru’s job after waiting for him at the and seeing a fucking panda just holding a conversation with some weird kid with markings around his mouth, simply replying with “salmon.”

* baby daddy! satoru who thought it would be fine to just have you sit tight for a couple of minutes while he checks up on his students since he’s been off from work but clearly he was wrong when he comes back to see you bug-eyed and pacing back and forth.

you’re already trampling over your own words when satoru walks over to you with a concerned look on his face. “w-why did i just see a fucking talking panda satoru!”

he’s sliding a hand over his face and is pulling you into the nearest room and sliding the door shut behind him. it’s there that he explains the world of jujutsu sorcery and what he does and why you saw a talking panda roaming about.

he decides to kill two birds with one stone that day and introduces you to his students and the both of you are bombarded with a magnitude of questions.

there’s a brunette who hasn’t taken her hands off your stomach since introduction and there’s a pink haired young man who’s enamored with you overall.

“kinda surprising someone would willingly have a child with you.”

the brunette takes her hands off your stomach to pound her fist into the dark-haired kid whose names you learned was megumi.

(you caught a glimpse of a younger version of him tucked into satoru’s wallet after spending the whole day in the grocery store)

“just because we’re all thinking it doesn’t mean you have to say it out loud, fushiguro.”

* baby mama! reader who grows fond of the trio after initial introduction and ends up seeing them more often after that.

* baby daddy! satoru who doesn’t mind one bit and opens up his house so you could spend more time with them.

* baby daddy! satoru who’s in the middle of an intense fight but stops once he hears the specific ringtone he picked out for you.

“give me a minute would you? someone rather important is calling.”

his opponent is stunned and confused at the sheer audacity yet they don’t dare move an inch.

satoru presses his phone to his ear, a soft smile appearing on his lips as he answers you. “what’s going on, pretty girl?”

“baby. coming. now.”

“be right there.”

satoru’s smile drops as he reverts his attention back to his opponent, his arms preparing to conjure a finishing blow.

“sorry to cut our playtime short but someone truly worthy of my time just called.”

* baby daddy! satoru who makes it just in time to see his beautiful son being born.

* baby mama! reader who’s exhausted from giving life to a literal being. you’ve got your arms wrapped around the newborn that finally stopped crying all while sharing glances between you and satoru.

* baby daddy! satoru who has this weird feeling in his stomach after receiving his son in his arms. the expression on his face resembles one of pure bliss as he takes a seat in the chair not too far from your hospital bed.

after much-needed reassurance and satoru helping you to sleep, he’s slowly pacing around the room with your son, whispering sweet nothings and quiet promises.

“not that i doubted it for a second but you’re certainly mine alright.”

he smiles at the piercing blue eyes staring right back at his own.

* baby mama! reader who isn’t actually sleeping and watches the both of them with tired eyes and in that moment knows she made the right decision and is content with the possibility of a domestic life with the strongest sorcerer of the modern age.

.

.

.

© yongbokology y2k23

feedback is encouraged.

boarder credz @leopardprnt

[sweetestcaptainhughes]

hello can I do a 17 ❤️‍🩹 and is it possible to do it w/ jamie drysdale? if not then with trevor zegras 🙏🙏

ooo so I only did leprechaun man as a joke because I wanted MK (@chukys-mouthguard) to show the world that she calls him a fucking sweet potato. 😂😂 Plus no one has requested Trevor at all during this celly, so Trevor it is. Sorry you had to sit in my inbox all day, apparently my body decided to sleep the entire day. I had no idea where this was going and I'm debating if I lost the plot half way through but it's cute I think.

200 Followers Celebration

Overcompensating by giving compliments and being extra nice, but feeling frustrated all the same when their crush doesn't seem to notice their efforts.

Trevor has been acting strange lately, you couldn't pin point what it was or when the turning point was but he definitely had a shift in his behavior. Trevor was one of those people in your life that you couldn't really tell anyone if they asked how long you have known him or when you guys first met. Both of your moms went to college together and you were destined to be cousins from that moment on. Except, Trevor and you never acted like cousins. Not in the same way you interacted with his little brother and sister. Not in the same way he interacted with your siblings.

Trevor and you, you both acted well like an old married couple most of the time. Two people that would do anything for each other, hell they would move the heaven if they needed but when it came to everyday life they bickered like they have been stuck with each other since the beginning of time. Jack and Cole constantly gave him shit for it back when they were all on the same development team. They both told him that he needed to make a move before someone stole his 'wife' from him. At the time, you remember Trevor telling you over FaceTime both of you laughing about it till their were tears in your eyes.

Now years later, you ended up in LA for work. Trevor was so happy he had someone with him, even though at the time he was already living in Orange County for years. He insisted on finding the perfect apartment in the middle of of your work and the rink. Which meant that both of your communites with traffic were a little over an hour. On the phone with him when he proposed the idea of a shared apartment you told him how insane he was being.

"Z no. It's insane for both of us to have such a wild commute. LA traffic is already insane and you know that. What happens if I accidentally sleep in one day and then I'm what 2 1/2 hours late for what." you try to reason as your folding your laundry, trying to deicde what to donate since you don't want to pay to lug so much across the country.

"fine then we will pick a place closer to your work. it's only fair anyway, you're there year round anyway." he decides, glancing at his phone for a second, while he continues to search on his mac for new apartments.

"No." you argue.

"yes Y/N I am not letting you live here by yourself okay. " Finally looking at you in the camera he seems your black dress your holding up, as if your debating if it's time to part ways with your 'slutty little black dress' that was your saving grace during college. But Trevor remembers it as the dress you wore with him to the go out to the bars, the dress you wore when he realized his friends were right he was madly and deeply in love with you.

"did you just put that in the donate pile?" he asks. Nodding your head yes, before you could speak he continues. "No you have to keep that one bee. " he begged.

bee a name only he could call you. a childhood name he started calling you because he said your words could sting anyone like a bee if you wanted to. what started as an insult became a name of endearment and one he only used when he really wanted something.

But now months later, as he's driving you home and your in that exact dress he begged you to keep all you want to do is for the ground to swoll you whole as you sit in his jeep. Glancing over at Trevor you see his eyes are clouded with anger, not sure if your mad at you or his teammate for flirting with you. As if he could read your mind, he brings his hand over to yours bringing it to his lips and lightly kisses it.

"I'm not mad at you bee okay." he says as he glances over at you as he comes to a stop. It's the first time he makes eye-contact with you since leaving the club almost 30 minutes ago, he sees that you're fighting back your own tears. "fuck bee don't cry." he whispers, deciding to pull over because the thought of continuing to drive while you're this upset physically pains him. As soon as the car is in park, he unbuckles his seatbelt, wiping your tears away with the rough pads of his thumbs. "I'm not mad" he keeps whispering like a promise until you finally shake your head okay.

"why did you punch him?" you finally ask.

"because he's a fuckboy and he doesn't deserve someone like you." the anger taking over in his voice again, you wince as if his tone of voice could physically hurt you, like his fist hurt his teammates.

"then who?" you whisper, suddenly feeling a boost of confidence you haven't in a long time.

"what?" he asks so quietly you can barely hear him over the hum of the music playing through the speakers.

"who do I deserve? because ever since I moved here you seem to have a lot of ideas of who I should date and shouldn't. I know we've known each other our entire life's but that doesn't give you the right to cock block me every chance you get Trevor!" by the end you are red in the face from your screaming confession.

"Y/N you deserve someone who will love you! Who knows you like the back of their hand. Someone who won't ever hurt you even if it's by accident. Someone who can give you everything you ever hoped for and more. Someone who will sit with you while you rant about the newest project at work or your new favorite obesession for the month. You deserve someone who will stay up late with you just to spend time with you because they missed you. You deserve someone who can give you the world. You deserve someone better than me and that little fucker isn't better than me." Trevor's face is one of pure shock . His eyes are wide, his mouth slightly ajar as he realizes what he just confessed.

"Trevor." Unbuckling your seatbelt so you can get closer to him, even thoguh you are already in a small space. "what if all I want is you?" you ask, leaning closer to him.

But he shakes his head pleading, "no you deserve better."

"no there isn't" you reason, taking your hands resting them on either side of his face, resting your forehead against you.

'what if I hurt you." he confesses

"you won't" leaning close enough that your lips are almost touching.

"you don't know that."

"I know that you doing nothing is hurting me more than you ever could hurt me by trying." His eyes snap open at your words. "please kiss me Z." That's all it takes for him to close to space between you both.

[glitchy-npc]

51 from the whump prompts?

Lady Argent pays Ricardo a visit after hes been gone a few days. 1021 words, content warning for alcoholism. [A03]

51. “I thought I was better.”

Los Diablos, August 2019

Lady Argent patiently listened to the sounds of multiple locks clicking open on the door to Ricardo’s apartment. After she had asked it so nicely it only felt fair to wait and it was willing to oblige, despite its programming. Machines were often easier to talk to than people, more polite for one, straightforward, and they rarely left you to worry about them. 

Unlike Ortega. 

Striding into his apartment the door slid back into place, locks resetting. It didn’t take long to find Ricardo, the soft snoring a dead giveaway. Staring down at him where he laid sprawled out on his couch, the former Marshal looked nothing like he did at HQ, the cocky confidence he always wore when in uniform, and even less like his airbrushed counterpart from the covers of magazines. Here he looked…fragile. Disheveled hair sticking to his forehead, a day or two's worth of stubble on his jaw, expensive shirt creased in whatever shape he had collapsed in. The smell of alcohol made her wrinkle her nose. 

The sight of him made her heart twinge. It also pissed her off. 

She made no attempt to quiet her footsteps as she stomped towards the kitchen throwing open the cabinet door with a loud enough bang that it should have woken him but didn’t. She filled a glass to the brim with tap water and when she returned to the couch, dumped its contents squarely onto his face. 

She didn’t flinch at the string of spluttered Spanish curses or the lightning that danced around his knuckles as Ricardo jerked back to consciousness. Attempting to wipe water from his eyes it took him a moment to focus on his assailant.

“Angie? What the hell…?” There was far more confusion than heat in his words.

“I think that should be my line.” She crossed her arms over her chest, still standing. It wasn’t often she got to loom over him and she was going to make the most of it. 

“How…did you get into my apartment?” He glanced over at the door that had betrayed him.

“Your security isn’t as good as you think.” She tapped clawed fingers against her own arm, not caring if the sound made him wince.

“So to what do I owe such a nice, unexpected visit?” He tried to push wet hair back from his forehead and throw on a smile, neither of which were very successful.

“Don’t get cute with me Ricardo-”

“You think I’m cute?” This time the smile fit. But Argent wasn’t going to fall for it. 

“You know damn well why I’m here!” She needed to pace if she wasn’t going to slap that stupid smile off his face. “Herald and I have been pulling double shifts because you haven’t bothered to show up to work in days!”

“Ah…sorry about that.” He at least had the decency to look guilty but that only pissed her off more.

“Sorry!?” She stopped pacing to give him an incredulous look until he looked away. “The entire team has been worried about you and picking up your slack and all because you’re what…getting day drunk at home!?”

“Listen…”

“No, you listen! No one wants to go through this shit again! I thought you had quit.” That was only half true. Cut back maybe, at least had it under control. Self control was something she understood intimately. She expected better from him. Maybe that wasn’t fair but what is?

“Look I didn’t exactly plan for this I just…” He trails off, leaving her to pick up the pieces. This isn’t a conversation he wants to have but he's getting it anyway.

“What happened?” Her words are sharp but she sits down on his coffee table to face him directly, no longer looming. “Talk to me.” She added, softer. 

Ricardo’s sigh was heavy as he started to worry at the emitters on his hands. Nervous, vulnerable, Argent wouldn’t want to be in his shoes right now but he got himself into this mess, he can at least try to get out.

“I…thought I was better but…I thought I saw him again…my old partner.” The admission is barely above a whisper.

Argent sighed heavily through her nose. So that was it, a relapse, enough to induce the hallucinations again. It stung more than she thought it would. How long can you watch someone you care about destroy themselves over a pain you can’t share?

“Ricardo…”

“I know what you’re thinking but I swear I was stone sober at the time!” He tried to meet her gaze, to will her to believe him. 

“So what's this then?” She kicked the tequila bottle next to the foot of the couch, finding it empty.

“That was an experiment…a stupid one.” He scratched the back of his neck, looking even more sheepish than he had before.

“I won’t argue that, but you're going to need to explain it.”

“I guess I thought that…maybe if I was drunk I could force it, prove it wasn’t real. Just my brain playing tricks again.”

“You’re right, that is stupid.”

“Y’know with the whole tough love thing there's supposed to be a little bit more of the latter…” He chuckles a little and it doesn’t sound fake.

“That I’m here is proof of that.” Matter of fact, no need to get mushy about it.

“You’re right and…thank you Angie, for checking in on me. I’ll get my head back on straight, I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” She reached out to touch his knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. She wasn’t normally one for physical contact but he needed it. Maybe so did she. 

As she rose to make her way to the door she looked back over her shoulder, the fond smile on his face making her heart twinge again. “You better show up early tomorrow, I plan on being late. I’m sleeping in.” 

“Yes, mam” He replied in as military a voice as he could muster. Argent snorted and rolled her eyes as she left, hoping he’d keep his promise.

[whisperingthorns]

Charmed by Shadows:

Yandere Ticci Toby x Reader

Chapter 6: part 2. Uneasy company

Find part 1:

“Can I ask you something Toby?”

“Y-yeah?”

“Why did you move here? I mean, I’m assuming you moved. I’ve lived here my whole life and I’ve never once seen you. Not at school. Not around town. Not your parents either. What brings you to this dead-end place?”

His chest tightened.

Shit.

He froze mid-movement, one hand still gripping the cooling head, blood soaking through the bag. For just a second, his mind short-circuited. Then:

“I… n-needed to start over,” he said, slowly. Carefully. “It’s p-peaceful here. Quiet. N-not so many people asking questions.”

Another pause.

“That’s fair,” she replied. “I guess I never thought of this place as quiet. Kinda felt like a cage sometimes.”

Toby dropped the head into the bag. It thudded against the rest of the body with a sick, final weight.

“I like cages,” he muttered, mostly to himself.

“What?”

“N-nothing.”

The two talked more, while Toby finished up.

After a bit of time Toby noticed she had stopped responding to him.

Toby listened to her breathing.

It had gone soft. Slowed.

He stopped moving. The forest hushed with him.

“Y-you still th-there?” he whispered.

No answer.

Just the low, steady rhythm of her breath brushing against the phone speaker. His heart squeezed, tics jerking his shoulders once, twice. A soft sound escaped his throat—a laugh, maybe, or something closer to a whimper.

“She fell asleep,” he murmured, voice gone small. “On the phone. W-with me.”

He knelt there in the dirt, fingers clenched around the blood-slick phone, hatchet forgotten beside the black trash bag. The wind rustled through the trees, but he didn’t move. Couldn’t.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

The call disconnected.

Toby twitched. Blinked hard behind the goggles.

Something about that sound—the cold, mechanical way the world reminded him she was gone again—set his nerves jangling.

He stared down at the phone.

And slowly, mechanically, he stood. Tightened the bag. Slung it over his shoulder.

Then walked back into the trees, humming quietly to himself. A lullaby, maybe.

The kind you’d sing to keep something soft asleep.

Even if your hands were still covered in blood and you had a dead body slung over your shoulder in a trash bag.

⦻

The coffee shop buzzed with soft chatter and the clink of mugs. Y/N sat at the corner booth with Brook, Kai, and Moon, a half-eaten cinnamon roll pushed to one side of her plate while she scrolled absently on her phone.

“…and she still had the audacity to ask me to cover her shift,” Brook was saying, exasperated. “Like girl, you no-call no-show twice and think I’m just gonna—are you even listening?”

“Hm?” Y/N blinked, looking up. “Sorry. Just remembered something Toby said.”

Kai let out a low sigh and took a sip of his drink. “Toby again?”

Moon glanced between them, eyebrows raising slightly. “What’d he say?”

Y/N smiled faintly. “Nothing big. Just—he mentioned he can’t cook and it reminded me of that time I set the microwave on fire trying to melt chocolate.”

Brook chuckled, shaking her head. “That was tragic.”

Kai leaned back, crossing his arms. “Okay but seriously, when did you start hanging out with that guy so much?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Kai said carefully, “he’s… different. You barely knew him a month ago, now suddenly it’s ‘Toby said this’ and ‘Toby likes that.’”

Y/N’s expression faltered. “I just think he’s nice. And he listens.”

Brook gave a hesitant look. “I mean yeah, he’s quiet. But there’s something… I don’t know. Off?”

Moon added, “He does seem kinda intense. Not that it’s bad, just—might be good to take it slow.”

Y/N’s jaw tightened. “Why is everyone acting like I’m making some huge mistake just by being friends with him?”

Kai shrugged. “We’re not saying that. Just saying you barely know the guy.”

“Well,” she snapped, “maybe he’s just one of the few people who doesn’t treat me like I’m crazy when I say I feel unsafe.”

The table went quiet.

Brook shifted uncomfortably. “Y/N…”

“I’m just saying.” She sat back in her chair, staring at her coffee. “He believes me. That matters.”

The silence lingered, heavy and awkward.

Brook fiddled with her straw wrapper, clearly unsure what to say next.

Then Kai finally spoke.

“You’re right,” he said, quietly but firmly. “It was messed up. If you’re scared, we should be supporting you—not making you second-guess yourself.”

Y/N looked at him, startled by the shift in tone.

Kai rubbed the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like I don’t care. I do. We all do. I just… don’t know the guy. And I’ve seen people attach themselves to someone fast when they’re vulnerable, and it never ends well. That’s all I meant.”

Brook glanced at Y/N, then nodded slowly. “Yeah. I mean—I’m sorry, okay? I just get protective when you shut down like that. You matter to me. Even if I don’t always show it the right way.”

Moon leaned in slightly. “Look, if it gets worse? I’ll even come stay over a few nights. Sleep on the floor, take the couch, whatever you need. Just say the word.”

Y/N blinked at them. Their faces were serious, gentle—no longer doubting, just… there.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, her voice cracking slightly. “I just… I don’t know what’s real anymore.”

“You don’t have to figure it out alone,” Kai said. “None of us want that.”

Y/N twisted her straw in her drink, her voice soft but steady. “I know he’s kind of… off, but Toby’s the only one who hasn’t questioned me. Not even once. He believed me right away.”

Brook looked up from her phone, her tone light but edged. “That’s kind of what worries me. Like—no hesitation? He just jumped in believing someone’s breaking into your house?”

Kai leaned forward slightly, arms folded. “I mean, she’s not wrong. It is strange. Most people would want proof, not just—blind faith.”

Y/N’s brows pulled together. “Well, maybe that’s why it meant something. He didn’t need proof to care.”

There was a pause.

Moon, who’d been mostly quiet, shrugged. “Toby’s weird, yeah, but he’s not hurting anyone. He’s just quiet. Keeps to himself.”

Brook let out a slow breath. “That’s the thing. Nobody knows anything about him. He just showed up, and now he’s… always around.”

Y/N sat back, frustrated now. “You all brushed me off for days. And the only person who didn’t is the one you’re all suspicious of?”

Kai held up a hand. “I get it. That was on us. It wasn’t cool. I just… don’t want you isolating yourself with someone we don’t really know.”

“I’m not isolating,” she said quickly. “I’m just—he makes me feel… less crazy. That’s all.”

Moon nodded once. “Then that’s fair. We just want to make sure he’s not the reason you’re scared in the first place.”

Y/N didn’t respond to that. She just looked down at her drink again, expression unreadable.

⦻

Y/N practically collapsed onto her bed, phone clutched in her hands like it owed her something. Her friends had smiled and nodded, said all the “right” things—but none of it felt real. None of it felt safe.

Her thumbs moved quickly.

Y/N:

Toby you should have seen the way they looked at me.

Like I was a toddler.

Or someone contemplating murder.

She stared at the screen, waiting. Her knee bounced anxiously. The second the typing bubble appeared, she exhaled like she’d been holding it all night.

Toby:

I’m sorry.

You didn’t deserve that.

Y/N:

I know they mean well but it’s like… they’re trying to coddle me. Like I can’t tell the difference between anxiety and someone being in my house.

She hit send, hesitated, then followed up with:

Y/N:

You don’t do that. You actually listen.

She didn’t realize how tense her shoulders were until they loosened. Talking to him was like pouring cold water on a burn—soothing in a way she didn’t want to think about too hard.

Toby:

Maybe they’re scared.

Sometimes people act like that when they don’t know how to help.

But I’m here.

Her chest tightened, not with fear but with something closer to relief. She clutched her phone to her chest, eyes fluttering shut for a second before typing again.

Y/N:

You always say the right thing.

There was a long pause before his reply came through.

Toby:

Only for you.

She didn’t know how to respond to that.

But the heat in her cheeks said plenty.

Kai’s living room was dim, a half-finished soda sweating on the coffee table. Moon sat cross-legged on the rug, fiddling with a loose string on his hoodie. Brook stood near the window, arms crossed, watching the street through the blinds.

“She’s not okay,” she said finally, voice quiet. “Like… something’s wrong, and I don’t think it’s just stress anymore.”

Moon looked up. “What do you mean? Like… she’s still having the dreams and stuff?”

Kai didn’t look away from the wall. “She said someone left a note in her house. Not on the door. Not the porch. Inside.”

Moon’s brows furrowed. “Wait—like… actually inside? Not just a dream?”

Brook nodded. “She showed me. I saw the glove too, the one she said wasn’t hers.” She turned, biting her lip. “But the way she talks about it—it’s like she’s trying to rationalize everything. And then she says Toby believes her, and it’s like he’s the only one she trusts now.”

Kai scoffed. “Of course he does.”

Moon looked between them. “Okay, look. I don’t really get a bad vibe from the guy. He’s weird, yeah, but not like—dangerous weird. Just awkward.”

Brook shook her head. “You haven’t seen the way he looks at her. It’s like she’s made of glass.”

Kai’s voice cut in, low and tight. “That’s the problem. He showed up out of nowhere. No family. No history. He’s in our town six weeks and suddenly he’s the only one she leans on? That’s not normal.”

Moon frowned. “But what if we’re wrong? What if he really is helping her? We all kinda brushed her off when she first brought it up…”

Brook let out a breath. “I know. I feel like shit about it. But something about him just… it itches in the back of my head.”

Kai finally stood. “I’m not saying we storm in and accuse him. But I’m gonna keep watching. If he is messing with her—” His voice dropped into steel. “I’ll find out.”

Moon nodded hesitantly. “Just… be careful, man. We don’t know what we’re dealing with yet.”

Kai didn’t respond. Brook’s phone buzzed—a message in the group chat.

Jaga:

April says she’s busy but down to hang soon. Maybe we should do something lowkey for Y/N. Moon’s idea wasn’t bad.

Moon has suggested to the secret group chat earlier that they all get together for a game night. Somthing to cheer y/n up.

Brook read it and stayed silent. Her fingers tightened slightly around the phone.

Because if Y/N really was in danger…

Then it wasn’t just weird anymore.

It was starting to look serious.

⦻

The cigarette smoke curled lazily toward the cracked ceiling of the safehouse. The peeling wallpaper caught the light of the flickering lamp in sickly yellow glints. Masky sat on a stained, sunken couch, his boot tapping furiously against the rotting floorboards.

He exhaled through his teeth.

The page had gone through twice. No callback. No reply. Nothing.

Just static.

Across the room, Hoodie stood at the window, arms crossed, watching the trees sway like they were whispering something.

“You’ve tried three times,” Hoodie said without looking back. “If he’s ignoring it, protocol says we escalate.”

Masky’s fingers twitched against the armrest. He sucked in smoke like it was oxygen and let it sit in his lungs too long. When he finally exhaled, it was sharp. Bitter.

“I’m not telling him.”

“You think Slender won’t notice?”

“I think,” Masky snapped, standing suddenly and grinding the cigarette into the edge of the table, “if we say something, we’ll be on the next train to goddamn Maine playing babysitter for his golden boy.”

Hoodie turned his head slightly. “You think it’s just burnout?”

“I think Toby’s unraveling.” Masky muttered, pacing now. “He’s too quiet. And when Toby goes quiet, it’s worse than when he’s twitching and talking your ear off. That’s when he starts thinking.” His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose. “And if he’s thinking, he’s planning. And if he’s planning…”

“He’s not killing who he’s supposed to,” Hoodie finished.

Masky didn’t say anything. He sat back down, rubbing his forehead with the heel of his palm.

The air was thick with frustration. And something close to fear.

Hoodie finally spoke again.

“You know he won’t stay quiet forever.”

Masky’s eyes burned behind the fabric of the mask. “No. But if he’s gone rogue again… we’ll know soon enough.”

Hoodie shrugged, still facing the window. His voice was calm, but edged with something unreadable.

“I told you he couldn’t handle it by himself. He’s not built for long-term solo assignments. Not with that kind of autonomy.”

Masky’s jaw flexed, silent.

“But,” Hoodie continued, “from the status reports? Targets are still going missing. Clean hits. No noise. No mistakes. So whatever he’s doing… he’s not off mission.” He paused. “Just… distracted. Maybe.”

Masky scoffed. “Distracted,” he repeated like it was a joke.

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, head down.

“Last time he got distracted, we spent three weeks covering up the fallout in Oregon. Slender nearly fried his brain that time. You really think he wants another cleanup on our hands?”

Hoodie finally turned, his voice flat. “If the job’s getting done, he won’t care.”

Masky didn’t answer. He just sat there, tension coiled tight across his shoulders. The kind of quiet that meant he already knew something wasn’t right.

And deep down, he knew they wouldn’t be cleaning up after Toby this time.

They’d be cleaning up what was left of him.

Toby lay stretched across his mattress, one leg twitching against the floor, the other bouncing absently. The house was quiet—save for the soft hum of a box fan rattling in the corner. A half-eaten brownie sat near his pillow, the wrapper crinkled, forgotten.

He stared at the ceiling, grinning.

He was thinking about her laugh again. That tiny hiccup in her voice when she got excited about something stupid—like that dumb cat video she’d sent him. Or the way she said “shoo-fly pie” like it was a secret spell passed down from dessert witches.

God, her voice was cute.

His fingers rubbed at the edge of his mouthguard without thinking, and he kicked his heel softly against the floor. Just a little bit. Just enough to feel grounded.

She had texted him last night. She had said she couldn’t sleep. She thought of him. She needed him.

His chest warmed.

Buzz-buzz. Buzz-buzz. Buzz-buzz.

The sound finally penetrated.

His eyes blinked open, and he sat up fast. “A-Angel?” he said aloud, scrambling for the phone. It had slid under his hoodie on the floor. He grabbed it and flipped it open, eager—

The screen glared up at him.

INCOMING CALL: MASKY

Toby’s heart dropped like a stone into his gut.

Not her.

Masky.

Then his eyes flicked to the call history.

3 missed calls.

His stomach twisted. His fingers clenched around the phone.

“Oh f-fuck,” he muttered.

He hit “accept.”

The line connected with a sharp click.

“Toby,” Masky’s voice growled low, already halfway to a snarl. “You got a damn reason for going radio silent for two days, or do I need to assume you’ve gone rogue?”

Toby’s eyes darted to the far corner of the room, where a trash bag full of… parts sat slouched against the wall like a sleeping drunk.

His smile was long gone now.

“Hey… h-hey, I—uh. I was just out. R-rural signal. N-nothing serious.”

“You’ve got tons of active targets left,” Masky snapped. “You miss one more report window, and it’s not me you’ll be hearing from.”

Toby’s jaw locked. His hand twitched. He swallowed.

“I’m on it. I’m working on it. E-everything’s under control.”

A long pause.

Then, curt and cold:

“It better be.”

Click.

The call ended.

Toby sat in the quiet, still gripping the phone, chest rising and falling.

Everything’s under control.

His gaze drifted back to the wall, then to the corner where her scarf hung on a nail like it lived there.

A soft smile crept back in.

“I-it is,” he whispered.

[stanleypinesgf]

Falling for Mystery - Chapter Six

Falling for Mystery Masterlist Warnings: Alludes to gaslighting/abusive relationship, I think that’s everything so I hope you enjoy! Please note: this is a slow burn fic with eventual smut and mature themes, 18+ only and please check warnings at the start of chapters! first bigger chapter woooo!!

w/c: 2,506 The days were starting to blur together, each one passing like the slow tick of a clock I couldn’t quite keep track of. The routine of the Mystery Shack had become oddly comforting, like the constant creak of the floorboards or the scent of pine and old wood. There was a rhythm to the tourists that cycled through, faces blending into each other, asking the same strange questions and gawking at the quirky exhibits. It was monotonous, sure, but there was something grounding about it. I hadn’t experienced any routine in my life for quite some time, the last couple of years in Portland had been turbulent to say the least. I never had any sense of stability, there was no real anchor in my life. I didn’t have a real safe space as where it should’ve been was invaded by what I could only describe as a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

And then there was Stan. Every morning, without fail, he greeted me with a half-sarcastic, half-sincere "good morning." At first, I brushed it off as part of the job. But now, now I found myself smiling before I could stop it, waiting for that moment.

I wasn’t sure when it started—that shift in how I saw him. He wasn’t the type of guy I’d ever imagined feeling so safe around—gruff, cynical, always wearing that ridiculous fez—but there was something there. Something I couldn’t quite define. I still kept him at arm’s length, but I couldn’t deny that I liked being around him more than I was willing to admit. I made an effort to sit on the porch most evenings, spending an extra couple of hours with him. Some nights, we were mostly silent, but it felt nice to enjoy each other’s company. The isolation and loneliness I could feel in a room full of people in Portland felt all the more puzzling now.

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows through the Shack as I busied myself reorganising the shelves, each motion mechanical, my mind elsewhere. The books were heavy, their spines cracked with age, and I strained to lift the last box up to the top shelf. My muscles screamed in protest, and I cursed under my breath just as I heard Stan’s voice behind me.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself lifting those things like that,” he said, the usual gruffness in his tone softened with something close to concern.

I straightened up quickly, wiping my brow, about to protest when he stepped forward. Without waiting for my response, he lifted the heaviest box like it weighed nothing and set it down on the counter. His movements were casual, but the gesture… it left me off-balance. Stan didn’t offer help unsolicited, not in my experience.

“Thanks,” I said, quieter than I intended, smiling at him sheepishly.

He shrugged, his eyes lingering on me for a second longer than usual. “Don’t mention it. You’re no good to me if you’re injured.” His voice was teasing, but there was a warmth I couldn’t ignore. “Besides, my ma raised a gentleman.” He stated this proudly. He didn’t often talk about his past, and neither did I; it was as if we had an unspoken rule not to press and to leave well enough alone.

I watched him walk away, a strange, giddy feeling settling in my chest. It wasn’t about the box, not really. It was about the fact that for the first time in a long time, I felt like someone had my back. And that scared me. I didn’t want to rely on anyone—not again. Equally, there was an edge of excitement; I almost hoped I wasn’t imagining the occasional sparks between us.

Later, when the Shack quieted and the last tourist had wandered out, I headed into town to run some errands. The streets were empty except for the familiar figure of Fiddleford McGucket, who was pacing near the edge of the forest, muttering to himself. I tried to walk past him without catching his attention, but his voice rang out, drawing me in.

“Heard somethin’ strange by the lake last night. Yessiree, strange growlin’ in the bushes.”

I slowed my pace, his words tugging at my curiosity. I knew McGucket was becoming well-known for his conspiracy theories, most of which were too outlandish to believe. But there was something in his tone, a frantic energy, that made me stop.

“Growling?” I asked, unsure if I should even engage him. “You mean like a bear or something?”

He shook his head confidently. “Lurkin’ over near the water,” McGucket continued, his eyes darting around as if someone might be listening. “Not the first time neither. Gravity Falls has secrets, you’ll see.” His voice dropped lower, almost conspiratorial.

I frowned, the uneasy feeling returning. There was always something off about this town, something just beyond my grasp. I heard conspiracies and legends all day at work, but I didn’t believe they held any weight. I hadn’t given it a lot of thought, but now, hearing it from McGucket made it harder to ignore.

“You’re saying this happens often?”

He cackled, waving his hands in the air like it was the funniest thing in the world. “Oh, more often than you’d think! Ain’t nothin’ we can do ‘bout it, but you’ll get used to it, we all did. Mark my words.”

I hesitated for a moment, wondering if there was any truth to what he was saying, before shaking my head. It was probably just another one of his wild stories. Still, the sense of unease lingered long after I left him behind, and by the time I made it back to the Shack, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was missing something important.

As the day wore on and the tourists finally trickled out, I found myself retreating to the porch steps as I did most nights. The sunset bled across the sky, painting everything in brilliant hues of orange and pink. The beauty of it was almost enough to distract me from the memories that had crept back in throughout the day, memories I had been trying so hard to leave behind.

I thought about Portland. About him. About how easily I’d fallen into that relationship, how I had trusted him without question. It had started like a dream, his attention intoxicating, his charm impossible to resist. But it didn’t take long for that charm to twist, for his concern to morph into control. He’d made me doubt myself in ways I hadn’t thought possible. And by the end, I barely recognized myself. That’s why I couldn’t let myself feel anything for Stan. I couldn’t trust myself to know where the lines blurred, where concern turned into something dangerous.

The sound of the door creaking open behind me pulled me from my thoughts, and I glanced up as Stan stepped out, his hands shoved into the pockets of his worn, burgundy hoodie. He didn’t say anything at first, just stood there, watching the sunset like it was the most natural thing in the world to stand next to me in silence.

After a moment, he spoke, his voice softer than usual. “Not bad, huh?”

I nodded, a small smile tugging at my lips despite myself. “Yeah. Not bad.”

We sat there for a while, side by side, the air between us filled with the quiet sounds of the evening settling in. It felt like each day that passed, he dared to sit a fraction of an inch closer to me. It was peaceful, and for the first time in weeks, I felt like I could breathe. But that was what scared me. Because the more time I spent with him, the harder it was to keep my guard up. And I knew I couldn’t afford to let my myself get hurt again. As the colors of the sunset deepened into twilight, Stan retreated back into the Shack, leaving me alone on the steps. The quiet enveloped me, and for a moment, I let myself relax. The slight chill of the evening air settled on my skin, and I leaned back on my hands, staring up at the sky as the first few stars began to twinkle. That calm, that sense of peace, was fleeting. McGucket’s words still echoed in the back of my mind, along with the feeling I hadn’t been able to shake since arriving in Gravity Falls. There was something off about this place, something everyone seemed to accept without question, and I was starting to wonder if I should have asked more questions myself.

It wasn’t just McGucket’s ramblings. It was the strange flickers of movement I’d noticed in the woods on my walks to town, the odd sounds in the distance when I closed the Shack at night, the subtle unease that crept over me when I thought no one was watching. Maybe I was just imagining it. Maybe the strangeness of Gravity Falls was getting to me, or maybe Stan’s stories painted a more vivid picture than I thought, but I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was lurking just out of sight. I stood up, brushing the dust off my jeans, and cast a glance back at the Shack. The lights inside flickered on as Stan moved around, tidying up before closing for the night. I hesitated, a small voice in my head telling me to let it go, to chalk it all up to another oddity of this town and move on.

But I couldn’t. Not this time.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I grabbed the flashlight from my bag and headed toward the woods. The dense cluster of trees at the edge of the property loomed in front of me, their shadows long and foreboding. Every instinct told me to turn back, to go inside where it was safe and warm. But something pushed me forward—something I couldn’t explain.

I needed answers.

As I stepped into the trees, the familiar scent of pine grew stronger, and the sounds of the town faded away, replaced by the quiet rustling of leaves and the occasional snap of a branch underfoot. I gripped the flashlight tightly, flicking it on as I ventured deeper into the woods. The beam cut through the darkness, casting eerie shadows on the forest floor, but it did little to soothe the unease growing in the pit of my stomach.

The deeper I went, the more the forest seemed to close in around me. The trees towered overhead, their branches knotted and twisted in unnatural shapes. Every sound—every whisper of the wind, every rustle of leaves—felt amplified, like the woods themselves were watching me.

My breath quickened, and I slowed my pace, my heart pounding louder with each step. What was I even looking for? A sign? A clue? Or just some confirmation that the strange feeling in my gut wasn’t just paranoia?

Suddenly, a low growl vibrated through the air, and I froze. It was faint, but unmistakable. It didn’t sound like any animal I recognised; it was primal, a warning.

I swung the flashlight in the direction of the sound, squinting through the darkness as the beam wavered. My heart raced, and every muscle in my body tensed, but I forced myself to move toward it. I had to know what it was. As I pushed deeper into the trees, the growl intensified, reverberating through the underbrush and rattling my bones. My hands shook, and I tightened my grip on the flashlight, its beam casting erratic shadows across the trees as I moved.

And that’s when I saw it.

Nestled in the clearing below was something large and menacing—a monstrous figure, its silhouette shifting in the dim light. It was like something out of a nightmare, its hulking body covered in matted fur, eyes glowing with an unnatural light that pierced through the darkness.

I stood frozen, my breath caught in my throat as I stared down at it. My mind raced, struggling to make sense of what I was seeing, but nothing fit. This was real. This was happening right in front of me.

I took a step back, my foot snapping a twig under the weight of my sudden movement. The sound echoed unnaturally loud in the stillness of the forest, and my pulse quickened in fear. Whatever this thing was, I didn’t want it to notice me. But as I turned to leave, the growl morphed into a guttural roar that shook the trees, and I froze again, eyes wide as the glow intensified, bathing the clearing in an eerie light.

I didn’t wait to see what would happen next.

With my heart pounding in my chest, I turned and ran, my flashlight flickering as I raced through the trees. The world around me blurred, the ground uneven beneath my feet as I stumbled, breath coming in short, panicked gasps. The only thing driving me forward was the desperate need to escape, to put as much distance as possible between myself and that creature.

“Shit!” I cried out as branches clawed at my arms and legs. I barreled deeper into the forest, the shadows closing in around me, the adrenaline shielding me from the pain I knew I’d feel tomorrow. The growl echoed in my mind, a chilling reminder of the danger lurking behind me. The fear of the unknown propelled me forward, but I felt the oppressive weight of the woods pressing down, suffocating and disorienting.

Just as I thought I’d made it far enough, the flashlight flickered, sputtering in and out, casting long, wavering beams of light that only heightened my panic. “No, no, no!”

I stumbled to a halt, my heart racing as the darkness enveloped me. The forest felt alive with ominous whispers, as if it were mocking my fear. My instincts screamed at me to keep moving, but my legs felt heavy, rooted in place.

“Fuck, come on!” I muttered to myself, gripping the flashlight tightly, trying to steady my breath. Just then, a low, rumbling growl echoed through the trees, sending chills racing down my spine.

I took a step back, my instincts screaming at me to flee.

Without warning, the growl intensified, reverberating through the air like thunder. My heart dropped into my stomach.

I turned and ran again, adrenaline coursing through my veins as I dashed through the underbrush. But the trees seemed to close in around me, branches reaching out like skeletal hands, pulling me back into the depths of the woods.

Just as I was about to cry out, my foot caught on a root, and I stumbled, falling to the ground and hitting my head. I tried desperately to scramble to my feet, panic gripping me, but it was too late. The sound of heavy footsteps approached, and the growl turned into a bone-chilling roar that vibrated through my very bones. As my vision began to darken, I could only think of Stan and how I wished I had let my guard down more. Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[bubblepopsims]

After a couple of days not answering the chat Evan picked up the phone. "Amore, would you mind taking pictures of me for our group chat? " Evan was aware that Courtney wasn't feeling her best and didn't want to appear in any picture. "I feel like it's my time to shine".

"Hey babes! You all look so stunning! You should see yourself through my eyes to understand how truly beautiful you are. Not as much as my love, sorry, but you are all close enough." Evan planted a light kiss on Courts cheek and resumed typing. "@Maddi I bet you would love to put a finger in between those beautiful, round, firm, hairy butt cheeks. I would, Courts would. You should do more than that 🤭 Courts is happy with the results of the work out too, let it be known that I have to carry her to the gym almost every time. I am starting to think that she just likes being carried around by me. Last time Hermes tried to pick her up and she wasn't very happy about it. Here come the first pic"

"@Maddi don't worry about the undies, I got you! Courts will be sending something for you too, I know you will enjoy it probably not as much as Rafa though. He better be nice to you or me and Courts will teach you a few useful tricks. @Asuka I am glad to be a prop for my grumpy better half. I love her and she can do whatever she wants with me. That is why today I am sacrificing myself and sending you this photo shoot. Courts did suggest the poses though. She is enjoying this. And yes, that bending over got some nice side effects 🍑 Courts is asking me to ask you @Asuka @Emillie about those shoes, she likes them a lot. She was going to make a joke about watching us go at it only if you let us watch you but she is afraid that you would say yes and hold her accountable 🤣"

"Don't ask about the onion pillow please. @Emillie slapping for Asuka and biting for you. Actually Courts is very good at biting while I excel in the slapping asses department 😎"

"@Juju @Izzy I hope you had some fun times, I bet Izzy want crazy seeing you like that on the bed. What a sight!"

Evan laughed, he wasn't done with Rafa just yet. " My very straight friend Rafa, you need to let loose a bit more, it would do you and Maddi good. I swear you would enjoy it 😜"

"And here is Courts favorite pic. We love you babes!"

M: "Oooo Sugar butt look! Evan decided to go all out!!" Maddi shifted upright in the backseat of the car, letting Rafael get a better look at her phone while she scrolled through the pictures of a radiating sex appeal Evan.

R: "You know part of me wanted to say this was just him being an attention whore.. but the fact Courtney is behind that camera.. he is pretty much eye fucking her."

Maddi laughed and nudged him "Oh so what I like to do mmmm?"

R: "Precisely. just with you, it has an effect on me. with Evan i just want to send him to... what did you call it? Horny jail?"

Maddie MadPie: "GUYS... RAFA JUST SAID HORNY JAIL XD! he saw the pictures and said Evan is eye fucking Courtney through the camera and -

Rafa took her phone and immediately read the messages that Evan had put in the chat "Give me this." Maddi yelped when the phone was taken from her and frowned only seeing how fast his fingers were going.

Maddie Madpie: "This is Rafael. First of all, you horny bastard, don't put that in Madalyn's head about putting anything in my ass. Second, what sacrifice are you making...? you love showing off is nothing new. Don't fool these people. especially my woman."

he sent the message and got out of the car helping Maddi out.

Maddie Madpie: "Welp... that went differently... but @ Evan. I want to put both of your asses on pillows for Courtney and I. alsoooo sorrryyyy i made you take the blame for my hidden fantasies. BUT please do send those undies hehe. also, give Courts... i am going to call her Smokey Quarts, that I hope she feels better T-T i already miss her face... Can I send a care package?? I want to convince Rafa to take a trip to see you guys !! Speaking of the man.."

Maddie Madpie: "We are the best-looking couple here besides the bride and groom of course... maybe ;) but we can clean up nicely."

Emillie is online.

Emillie: "Brooooooooooo I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS! FIRST WHAT THE FUCK IS UP WITH THE ONION OVER YOUR JUNK??? SECOND is that a fucking tentacle dildo on your nightstand??? THIRD what kinky freaky shit are you guys into? I can't even look at the sexy slab of man because I am distracted by that damn toy on the nightstand XD Great fucking ass though @ Evan I want to play music on it. including we would hold both of you accountable. be careful what you ask for. Asuka and I are all about having some harmless fun now."

Maddie Madpie reacted with a laughing emoji to Emilie's post.

Maddie Madpie: "Rafa was saying that they had that "lamp" for as long as he knew them... there as to be a story behind it. also @ Emille Evan said not to ask about the onion. XD"

Emillie: @ Maddie Madpie: "You think I listen?????? do you even know me??"

Asuka Lovely is online.

Asuka lovely: "WOOOOAHHHHHHHH! well, I am staring at @ Evan... Em covered my other questions because..... damn I mean now I get it, Courtney... I really really get it... Jesus.... fuck me eyes... and everything also that ass.... Courtney, I am disrespectfully staring at your man's goods. sorry not sorry about it. @ Maddie Madpie, you guys look fucking amazing by the way let me get that out of the way before I got back to Evan. you guys look stunning. wow.. how did Rafa keep his hands off you?"

Asuka lovely: "Also Em is now making a song about the Tentacle dildo... we took a mini trip upstate to the snowy mountains. staying in this cute asian inspired hotel which is really cute. :3 Sorry I look like shit, I haven't changed for the evening yet. @ Courtney i will send you the link to the shoes so we can be the holy trio :)"

Maddie Madpie: "HEYYY I WANT THEM TOO ONLY IF THEY COME IN PINK Though! Somehow this photo is giving me music video vibes... @ Asuka"

A good hour passed.

Maddie Madpie: "Guys..... Rafa is so hot... I'm sorry.. I know blah blah gushy girlfriend mode... but just look at him... and look how he LOOKED AT ME! mmmmpft one of these days I am accidentally going to have this man's children... not even kidding. @ Evan i told him what you said about loosing up... and he literally gave me the most sexiest straightest face ever... and said He is loose just not for you."

Asuka Lovely: "LMFAO MADDI! YOU CAN'T ACCIDENTALLY HAVE THIS MAN'S CHILDREN. XD BUT I will admit... if I was in your shoes or even Courtney's shoes... I'd definitely consider taking the RISK every time... especially now finding out @ Evan and @ Courtney. are professional biters and ass slappers.. it's a done deal for Emillie and I."

Asuka lovely: "Emillie has that look in her eyes. mmmpft i might get pregnant tonight XD But anyway, we are going out ! hope court court feels better, take good care of her @ Evan also helping her sweat out the sickly is always appreciated! we love you guys! "

Maddie Madpie: "We also love you guys, gotta go seduce Rafa to the dance floor again ;3 wish me luck!!!!"

[ghosttotheparty]

random life updates for anyone interested:

- starting my last year of university next week; beyond freaked out bc idk what im doing with my life, but finding little mercies in the mundane to keep me sane. coffee, kissing my dogs nose, waving at babies in shops, etc. i have yet to start my dissertation but i have shifted my original plan from ai ‘art’ and why it sucks to the importance of having an open mind when it comes to dadaism and the idea of what art is in general. this is mainly due to lack of resources around generative ai in regards to the art community

- started a website for my artwork! still have to pay for the domain name, but i have a few blog entries and a portfolio and a page for commissions. i have to contact my aunt, who i did three commissions for this summer and who has yet to pay me, because i want to use the money from those comms to pay for the domain and starter inventory for my shop, where im hoping to sell prints and stickers

- travelled overseas by myself for the first time this summer, and got a (kind of) job! i actually enjoyed the flights (i watched bottoms for the first time!) and security was not as scary as it used to be. (is it bc im on medication now? probably but also the airports were fairly quiet (which was crazy bc i left from heathrow) and i had direct flights which was nice). i worked in a local art gallery and gift shop in retail and i got to help set up an exhibition and it was a rly great opportunity to meet artists and get experience in retail. i found that im fantastic at chit chatting with people and definitely have a chameleon effect w southern accents.

- got officially diagnosed with tourette’s. will i be writing another eddie w tics fic bc of this? mayhaps

- started digital art and have been working on it fairly regularly; still trying to figure out an art style but i think i might be getting there— i finally got an apple pencil (everyone say thank you robins grandma) which has been marvellous

- learned how to crochet; i cannot for the life of me read crochet patterns so ive only made a hat for my brother (using a youtube video as guidance), half a scarf bc i ran out of yarn, and a small throw blanket, but it’s v fun to just fidget while watching movies and stuff— im going to make another hat for my brothers xmas gift using yarn from my friend

- i found that i am crazy good at recognising voices; my grandparents listen to almost exclusively classical music so they started playing pandora radios during dinner while i was with them, and my darling grandfather would quiz me about who the artist was and what the song was called. i often would name the artist based on their voice (usually only knowing one song by them) but wouldn’t know the song and usually hadn’t even heard the song before. my grandpa was continually impressed. he’s my #1 hypeman

photos from my summer:

1. one of the commissions for my aunt; peter rabbit for her upstairs area with bookshelves.

2. my grandpa preparing some figs left by their next door neighbor; i found that my dislike of fig newtons is just my dislike of figs. but they were pretty.

3. went on a ‘moth walk’ with my grandparents; there’s an arboretum near their house, and some people showed up to listen to a moth expert talk about moths. he’d set up equipment to attract moths and it was sososo fun. this is one of the moths (i don’t recall what it was called, but the leader had his own nicknames for them all) that i got to hold. i also got to hold a firefly for the first time. it was magical.

4. my grandma is a quilter— this is her piecing together a small quilt that we made together for a friend of mine that had a baby recently.

can’t think of any more updates but i’ve realised that i’m spending more time on twitter these days than i am on tumblr so <3

[blues-sues]

First friend

(Ft. Rue and Banny)

The walls were stark white. Always were. Never changed, never shifted.

She would watch these walls for hours, waiting for something, anything to happen.

Sometimes things would. A grunt would come and get her for her routine check up but after she'd be quickly put back in her room. Rarely let out.

She was much too young to wander out alone. Not trusted enough.

Her eye was still recovering, the bandages bloody and itchy. So horribly itchy. She wanted to claw at it but she'd been yelled at too many times. She'd face punishment if she tried again.

She needed something to distract her. She didn't care if it was another fight. If she saw that Mightyena again, she'd-

Whirring. She stiffened as the door slid open behind her, clicking along its journey. She waited. She was told never to turn around until instructed. Last time she did, she saw a needle and had sent the man flying.

However, part of her knew this one wasn't a human. Something about the tiny steps it took told her such.

"S'alright. Ya c'n turn." Its voice sent a shiver down her spine. It was deeper than any she'd heard and had a faint echo to it- like it had a constant copycat attached.

However, she listened and looked over her shoulder to see it. However, nothing was there.

"Down 'ere."

Her head lowered until finally she spotted it. A small pokemon with black pigmentation and red eyes that look into hers curiously.

"N'mes Banny. Nice ta meetcha." It held out its hand, the middle of its arm sagging in the middle where its elbow would be.

"Uhm." She stared down at him. "Mewtwo." She replies, putting out her own and giving a shake.

"Ah. Righ'. Mewtwo." Banny's eyes narrow. "Ya gots quite th' reputation."

"Do I?" She questioned. Sincerely she's not quite sure why people would speak of her. She's not that interesting- besides being the last of her kind. At least that's what her guards told her.

"Duh. Ya th' newest memb'r. Everyone's dyin' to meet ya." The Pokemon shuffled and scrambles its way to sit beside her. "Looks like somebody 'ready did, tho."

She doesn't miss the way its eyes seem to look over her cuts and bruises from her battle. She couldn't. She's wired by now to notice every single movement near her.

"Was it th' brat? Big ol' stinky dog?"

She snorted. She couldn't believe she just snorted in front of a guest. However, Banny seemed unbothered. In fact, it grinned wider.

"I- well, I wouldn't say that." She covered her mouth, trying to stifle her laughter. "But, yeah, he was… interesting."

"Ya c'n say 'e was a bitch, I won' tell." Banny offers, its tail beginning to wag. "'re both thinkin' it."

"Where did you even come from???" She stuttered out between her laughs, clutching her stomach.

"Oh, y'know."

"No, I don't!"

"Bit of 'ere, bit of there. 've come from everywhere." The Banette begins to sway its legs, eyes curving upwards into crescents as it eyes her. "Y're bett'r than anyone else 've met. All got sticks up 'eir asses."

"That's rude!" Still, she has to resist giggling. Something about this 'mon has her feel like she's being told marvelous jokes.

"N't wrong~" Banny sang out, before breaking into a fit of laughter of their own.

And it was pleasant to sit there, laughing with it, but she also knew it couldn't stay.

Nobody could.

Finally, once she's regained her breath, she opens her mouth to address it but suddenly the doors swing open again and in marches-

A Zoroark.

Oh, but she's seen this one before. It's hard to forget a Pokemon that's half-shiny.

"Captain!" She squeaks out, back straightening as they draw near. But, their attention isn't on her.

Whipping around, they grab the Banette by the tail. "Banny, you are not authorized to be here!" They barked, lifting it so its eyes were level with theirs.

Banny didn't look fazed. "H'h? Y'sure? Swore I w's."

"You are the bane of my existence, you rat! Leave Mewtwo alone, they have training in an hour!" Captain snaps, dropping Banny abruptly only to start dragging it out by the arm.

She watches, eyes wide in awe as Banny still has the confidence to raise its other arm and wave. "G'dbye! S'ya next Chr'stmas!"

She rose her own and bid her own farewell with a sway of her arm. However, it took her a moment to process that...

It wasn't Christmas.

She tried to keep it at bay but once the door slid shut, she burst into another round of giggles. What a silly Pokemon!

-----

Banny, on his way out, of course heard. Their smile stretches wide upon hearing the laughter.

"What's got her so jolly?" Captain grunts, narrowing their eyes to glare suspiciously at Banny. "Did you infect her with something?"

"Yeah. 's called joy. Not tha' ya guys would know 'bout it."

Captain merely rolls her eyes in response. "Banny, you know this is for her own good. If she were out there, she'd-"

"-be happy? Wit' 'er real fam'ly?" Banny interrupted swiftly. "Ya act like 're savin' h'r but y'know we ain't."

"It'd do you good to keep your mouth shut." Was the Zoroark's snarled response. "That zipper ain't working."

"S'rry, it only lets me talk if 's th' truth."

The Banette was then promptly tossed into their own room and they shrug as they watch the door slowly start to slide shut, Captain's fierce glare locked on him.

Well, guess not leaving the room this week either.

[fitzpirations]

haven’t really been on here in ages- had all these articles I was going to share and proper nerdy posts to make but really who has the time 😔

Also gave up all my socials for Lent and felt I’d get stuck on here if I returned. Made a year at my job @ the streaming service the other day which has been… idk how I feel about it. I still work a weirdo late shift so I may or may not be in the office now, sitting alone, getting the setting sun on my cheek. The schedule is not conducive of socializing. Have thoughts on the Tony noms,, although mostly petty ones as I have been so uninterested in just about every musical this season and only technically saw DOWAR, (off-Broadway because I feared I couldn’t recreate my magical/chaotic night @ the Atlantic) and Prayer for the French Republic V pleased for their collective noms. Re: Days of Wine and Roses-Idc that they closed. Where’s their best musical? Orchestration? Some of these nominees… I have to remind myself New York, New York was up for a TON last year. Sorry to all involved but BOY was that show,,, tragic to me. Had the bones on a surface level but refused to come together for me every step of the way. My friend won the lotto post-Tonys and we went on a lark, and our lukewarm feelings translated into the show announcing its closing that very night. My power, if you will.

volunteered @ my local theatre for a night and left wanting to cry because I’ve been getting v into ~acting craft~ recently, and all the community people are so nice but I can’t do any work on any production,, so sad but nice to be asked to stage manage a One-Act Festival,,,

I do background work on my weird Monday off from work & had two really cool experiences recently! Worked on a film with less than 30 others w/ a huge, half up-and-coming star that I’m pumped about- did they even look my way? No. But they were locked in & it was a real cool set-up. Would it have been nicer if the costume and prop and makeup people didn’t rub fake dirt over all of us extras? Yes. But I got paid the union rate and met some really cool people, including a gentleman 33 years sober who was greatly moved by Days of Wine and Roses! And you know what? He brought up the show, not me.

also did a fancy streamer show I’m quite stoked on- got placed right in the action in the scene, the lead walked right up to me as he swapped with his stand-in and said hi, which is such a minimal thing (and I don’t do it to leer @ stars or w/e) but he thought he was sitting next to me the whole scene and was being friendly. The seat next to me was unfortunately empty by design, but there were a ton of takes where the only people visible were the two actors & me. Which,, is crazy. Like they cleared the room and I was just sat there. Can’t give context, but boy was I actually acting for once. To the extent I was sure I was doing too much. But no one said anything, except the friends I made hours prior on the bus during our early call time, who were thrilled on my behalf about the great placement.

trying to join the union now which is crazy, and maybe a mistake, but the hourly pay is better than my full-time job at a v reputable media company. Know my worth or something? Even if I worked on just the occasional Monday, it’d be great money, and better gigs/placement on jobs. And who knows, maybe I’d put in for even better gigs. Right now I’m chained to the 3pm-11pm, and the dogs I walk in the morning.

saw Prayer for The French Republic with my friend a while back which we sobbed through & had a truly enriching convo on life & religion and such at dinner afterwards. I also saw Teeth at Playwrights which was a wild treat, it was still in previews, literal Michael R. Jackson was in the lobby, my mother felt bad I was going alone and INSISTED I bring her with,, imagine how I felt when my tickets were center SECOND ROW and not in the fourth row, and I was sat next to my mom watching vagina-has-teeth, the musical. She was crazed when we left. I warned her prior, but once she committed to going with me, it was pointless to remind her the concept of the show. Quite the time! It’s one thing to be close enough to occasionally make eye contact with the actors, and another to be locked in an intense gaze with Steven Pasquale as he plays a pervy gynecologist, plunging his arm into someone. Was shaking in my boots. They’re hinting on moving it somewhere which I am against! but as long as it lives off-Broadway it can still rock, I think.

anyway anyway. Trying to write more and be more around art & dig myself out of this rut I’m stuck in. This time last year I was fruitlessly waiting to hear if I got a Stage Manager fellowship with the City Center. It was a nice thought at the time! Maybe one day. The market is so weird I’d have to win the lottery and have a generous offer before I’d be comfortable actually quitting my job for something else. I’m unsure. Feels like I’m wasting away, in friendly enough company at least.

been reading War and Peace (or trying to!) which I jokingly refer to as WAP to myself. Tolstoy would get a kick out of that one, I’m sure. Enjoying Matt Koplick’s Broadway Breakdown podcast which may sound very geeky to admit but he’s very well-informed and isn’t afraid to have a real opinion on modern theatre! Maybe that sounds conservative-coded, but I mean he is never downright cruel, but willing to say some shows were bad (and why! In academic detail) and I’ve got into some great peices & performers listening to his work. I recommend. See also: BdJ on the Drama podcast recently, I am not a frequent listener by any means- the only other one I think I’ve caught was Kelli’s back last year? But what a great listen. (Seriously)

anyway anyway. I love a long-read. I think my writing is half-nonsensical here, but here we are. I enjoy the tiny little community of people I follow on here. Trying to go back to this blog’s roots- inspiration! Art! Action!

[di-loves-coffee]

I cannot stop thinking about this, sooo here’s something that’s in assumption that Danny’s still going to school… a bit more of a father-son aspect here

I’m using some language that’s a bit on the coarser side in this, trying to get into Waylon’s mindset. Also because this mentions racism and racial slurs that I was… not too happy to research. [Don’t worry, neither Waylon nor Danny are saying them, but they’re still mentioned]

•—•~•Called To The Office•~•—•

Damn this kid, making trouble in the second week of school?

They called Waylon to come pick him up for fuck’s sake! What did this twig do!?

Waylon had managed to squeeze himself into a nice pair of pants and shoes to help make a good impression despite his face. Gotham Prep was a ‘prestigious’ school after all. Don’t need his record ruining his kid’s.

Squeezing through the doorframe and awkwardly explaining to the secretary (who looked scared enough to piss herself) that he was there for his son Danny.

Thankfully, she managed to shakily point down a hall— assumedly where the dean’s office was… they called the pretentious pricks ‘Deans’ here, yeah? Rich people probably did stupid shit like that.

Waylon padded down the hall, trying to be mindful of his larger size.

This place felt stuffy and small, like pretentiousness and entitlement… smelt like it too.

He made it to a too-fancy door— probably hard-wood if you asked someone— with a plaque adorning it at what would be an average adult’s eyesight.

It read the words Dean Wilcox in bold lettering, colored bronze as if it was meant to make it feel more important.

Waylon took a moment to steel himself before lifting his clawed hand— clutched in a loose fist— and rapped on the door twice.

“Come in Mr. Fenton,” A masculine voice called from within, sounding older— late forties at just a guess.

Waylon froze for a moment as he fully processed the words. Fenton?

Did they think he was Biologically Danny’s father?

Oh boy, this’ll be a meeting.

Waylon opened the door with a careful grip and squeezed inside, speaking before anyone else could process the shock of him being there.

“I’m- ah—here for Danny? I’m caring for the boy”

“O-oh, well Killer Cro-” “Jones.”

Everyone in the room glanced at the skinny boy— holy shit was Danny bruised?— in confusion after he piped up. Gazes silently questioning the boy’s words.

“He’s Mr. Jones” Danny— the little shit— just doubled down on his previous statement. Not leaving a single millimeter of room for argument.

“W- well, Mr. Jones,” The man— sat behind a large desk— sounded nervous. Which… was probably a good thing depending on the situation, even if Waylon didn’t want to have to play the ‘bad guy’ role, “Daniel… got into an altercation with another student.”

At that news, Waylon glanced down at Danny. Silently asking the boy what happened.

“He was being a dick to my classmate Damian, said some really racist shit.” The little squirt— like always— told it like it was and left no room for argument.

“W- while it may seem that way from the boy’s perspective,” Waylon’s gaze moved back to the Dean, causing him to swallow and look like he just ate too many hot peppers, “young mister Markham didn’t say anything of the sort”

“He called Damian a ‘Dune Coon’.” Danny’s words were said with a flatness that revealed an underlying rage that Waylon himself was beginning to feel himself. “And said he was ‘Unpure’ and a ‘Half-Breed’”

Waylon found his gaze hardening with the newfound information, a harsh fire building under his skin.

“That’s not the matter at hand.” The Dean foolishly tried to salvage the situation. “Your- your ward punched Mister Markham”

“From what I understand here.” Waylon started, eyes carefully watching the Dean as he shifted like a scared hare under his sharp amber gaze, “The Markham boy chose his actions and was made to suffer the real-world consequences of them.”

That had the older man blubbering, trying to save his version of the story.

“It seems to me that your school tolerates racism and discrimination among your student body.” Waylon fixed the man with a dangerous glare, “Now, you can punish Danny however you like, but I won’t be punishing this behavior. And I warn you, if this happens again, I will not be so flippant.”

With that, Waylon deemed it a good time to leave, fixing Danny with a short ‘C’mon squirt’ and squeezing out of the door. The small teen cheerfully following behind him.

So, Waylon adopts Danny.

•—•~•—•Crocodile Dad•—•~•—•

Waylon wasn’t quite sure how he acquired a kid.

In fact, Waylon doesn’t even think he had actually chose himself to keep him. Instead he thinks that this kid chose him.

Right now, the small and skinny black-haired boy who’d inserted himself into his life was sat at the table his weapon’s engineer used to work. Tinkering at the bits and pieces scattered over the messy surface while Waylon himself hovered nearby.

“Are you sure that’s safe for you to be messing with kiddo?” The large, scaled man called to the boy, a hint of concern peeking through the southern twang in his accent. Elongating is ‘O’s and ‘E’s and ‘A’s.

“Yeah, it’s fine, I used to work on my parents experiments in their lab all the time,” The boy called back, and— unironically— it didn’t soothe his anxiety.

“That don’t make me feel any better squirt.”

“Well? Too bad.” This twig was going to be the cause of all Waylon’s fictitious gray hairs, he was calling it now.

Instead of lecturing the kid on safety, Waylon simply ruffled his hair with his large, clawed hands and left him to his devices.

[therivergirl]

I experienced a rather nice, quiet, but meaningful moment of allyship yesterday

I work as a substitute GP/family medicine doctor in one office at the health centre. I'm substituting for a doctor currently taking her residency. Recently, another doctor from the same centre starter her residency and, as her substitute, they put a doctor I went to med school with. (Yes, you can work as a family medicine doctor in Croatia w/o finishing your residency).

Anyways, we're a pretty big collective for a health centre like this-five GPs, five nurses, two primary care OBYGYNs and two OBYGYN nurses and one paediatrician and her nurse. Whoever is on the same shift, takes lunch together, which is kinda nice, as long as topic stay as apolitical as possible, or simply focus on issues in healthcare system

It's less nice when you're the only queer person there and then the jokes start. It rarely goes beyond casual queerphobia, I don't feel threatened, but it's annoying and it gets uncomfortable. I'll be frank, I rarely say anything. Amost everyone there knows I'm not straight I'm casually out in a very unspecific "into both genders" way, and they know I'm involved in queer activism on some level but it never stopped anyone. The most I got is "oh we don't really mean all that" from one of the OBYGYN's and, to her credit, my nurse expressed genuine interest in the topic a few times. However, most of the time it's jokes. And if you're one of my Balkan followers, you especially probably know what I mean. I ignore it, kinda....willingly dissociate from the conversations when it gets bad. I only have so many spoons per day, and I gotta pick my battles, especially with the job that I do.

Cut to today, and my former classmate and I were pretty much last ones to leave work. Now, I knew that this girl was at least somewhat of an ally before. See, my roommate is a detransitioner, and, about a year and a half ago, back when she still went by he/him, she ended up in the ER. My former classmate had a job there back then, and she picked up on my roommate's GNC presentation and asked her for pronouns.

And I noticed her mild discomfort whenever the jokes start between the other doctors and nurses, occasionally even pushing on them a bit. I noticed she excludes herself from the conversation when it gets bad, too.

What I didn't expect is fro her to come up to me on the hallway and ask me if I'm doing ok in this collective., She didn't say anything explicit, one of the OBYGYN's (the one who tried to "reassure" me) and two nurses were still lingering around, but she was like "I see people can get...carried away", well, something close. It's hard to translate the sentence from Croatian. But the sentiment was "I see that these people are being weird, and I want to be sure you're ok." Which took me so off guard.

The thing is, this girl and I, we're not friends. We're acquaintances from med school, and we actually interacted very little between classes and stuff. Hell, up until today I didn't even know that she knows I'm queer!

When she asked me if I was fine, i thought she was asking me about my shift and my health because I realized I have a pretty nasty cold when I got to work and was chugging tea as if parched, but no, she was asking me if I was mentally doing ok considering my surrounding which... I honestly can't remember if this EVER happened to me if I wasn't in an explicitly queer environment already. Just...asking me if I was doing fine, addressing what most people choose to ignore, made my day.

So yeah, shoutout to my former classmate.

P.S. Before anyone says anything, yes, i know there are more than two genders, but i really, really, can't currently be bothered to explain this to these people just as I can't be bothered to eyplain "I'm pan and aroace.". And also, yes, I know that what my classmate did is probably bare minimum, but considering that this is the first time I experienced said bare minimum...yeah, I think it warrants mentioning.

[sceletaflores]

come on and show me a little bit of spine!

pair: logan howlett x mutant!fem!reader

wc: 5.5k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, drinking, smoking, p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex, public sex (alleyway hehe), biting, blood but not blood play, pain kink, scent kink, a special guest (!!!), jealous logan muahahaha, emotional constipation but like wtf is new, nat probably blatantly ignoring canon, probably ooc logan and friends sorry i'm just a girl, porn w/ plot (a little???), no use of y/n.

author’s note: HAHA BACK ON MY LOGAN BULLSHIT! who’s laughing? not me. i can’t stop writing for him it’s insane and selfish i know i know i’m sorry. bee tee dubs this is part two to all’s fair in love and viscera cus i couldn't get them out of my head so...kisses!

five x-men walk into a bar, only three walk out…

All men are the same. X-gene or no x-gene, they're all immature pigs.

You've come to find that it's more than just skin deep. If you took a knife to every man in this bar, you'd surely find the exact same little metaphorical mass of arrogance ingrained in every single one of them once all the layers are peeled back far enough.

And that's what Logan is, a man.

A stubborn, arrogant, mind-numbingly frustrating man who's convinced he could never be wrong just because he's had a little more time than normal to perfect the art of being completely insufferable.

No adamantium skeleton or foot long claws of death can change that.

You could set him on fire, drown him, watch him regenerate from a single cell, and nothing would change.

So, in hindsight, you really should have seen this coming.

It was Ororo's idea to go out, insisting the team needed it. A casual night at the bar across town to raise bravado after a few close call missions.

It sounded fun at the time, and for the first thirty minutes it was.

Getting to shed your hero skin for a few hours every so often is always nice, and you love your team. Love getting to just sit and live with them. You hardly get nights like this anymore, filled with playing pool and darts like people do.

That being said, you were reaching the top of your limit. Fast.

It started at the bartop, with Logan sauntering up next to you for the first time tonight. 

He slid into the empty seat to your left, leaned against the bar casually, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. His lips tugged into that half-smirk he wore that night in the training room.

“You avoiding me?” he asks, voice low, bent down just enough to speak directly into your ear. "Haven't seen you all night."

You almost scoffed, almost turned to face him so he could see the look of irate disbelief on your face. Almost, but you didn't want to give him the extra attention.

"I could ask you the same thing."

You didn't miss how things had changed between the two of you after your night in the training room. Something shifted, and not in the romantic 'so...what are we now?' territory.

It shifted into Logan disappearing, closing himself off. He didn't go out of his way to avoid you, didn't even go as far as ignoring your existence entirely. He didn't need to, you knew it was different.

He refused to talk about it, refused to even acknowledge it, completely shutting you down the one time you tried bringing it up.

It stung. The feeling of rejection, especially after that night. You felt like you bared a part of your soul to Logan on that dark blue training mat. You swore you saw something different in his eyes too, a subtle shift, something that said this ran deeper than just a messy fuck between friends.

It played on your mind like a loop, every detail. You nitpicked almost every single thing you did, searched your mind for what you could have done that scared him off.

It has to be you, it always is.

It took a week to get over it. A week to wash away the feeling of Logan's hands on your body, of his lips on yours, of his cock carving a space for itself in your cunt, of his blood sliding down your throat and slicking the palms of your hands.

Eventually, that sadness gave way to self-reflection. Self-reflection gave way to anger, and now you're just plain pissed.

This has nothing to do with you.

Logan is a grown man, not a goddamn baby. He should know how to communicate by now, should take the stick out of his ass and drop the whole 'I'm no good for you baby' martyr cross he's carried around for over a century and talk to you.

But if he wants to be alone to sulk in self pity and sorrow for two hundred more years, you'll let him.

Logan's smirk falters, his expression falling with a heavy sigh. He leans back, one boot moving to rest on the rung of your stool. "You really want to do this here?"

"You came up to me," you shrug, finally turning to face him. The warm glow of the bar lights catch the edges of your frustration. "If you’re here to talk, then talk."

Logan doesn't respond, just meets your gaze with a raised brow. His eyes scan over your face slowly, taking in the pinch between your brows and the stern look in your eyes.

"Trouble in paradise?"

Scott's voice pierces through the tense air between you. His tone is casual in a way that's undermined by the smug smile turning the corner of his mouth up. It's too knowing, like he'd been listening in before.

Logan's brows pinch together in irritation the same way they always do when Scott talks, but he holds your gaze. His silence is infuriating because it's the same old routine—he just stares, brooding, like he’s waiting for the problem to magically solve itself without ever opening his damn mouth.

It makes your blood simmer just under the surface, the tips of your fingers burning with it.

You grind your teeth, balling your hands into fists where they sit on the bar. "Scott," you say, not breaking eye contact with Logan, "go play fetch or something."

Scott raises his hands in mock surrender, but you know he won’t leave without a parting shot. “Just looking out for you, you know. Can’t afford you two tearing each other apart over a little lovers spat before the night’s even over.”

As he saunters off, you turn your full attention back to Logan, who’s still studying you with that infuriating intensity. It’s as if he’s trying to decode some secret language written across your face.

You almost want to laugh at how predictable he is, how he thinks he can just sit there, unbothered, while you’re ready to explode.

“Are you really just going to sit there?” you challenge, leaning closer, daring him to respond. “You can’t keep dodging this forever, Logan. You think I’m the only one feeling this? We were both there that night."

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, you think you see the flicker of vulnerability beneath the gruff exterior. But then it’s gone, replaced by that stubborn wall he always puts up.

“I don’t need to talk about it,” he mutters, his voice low, but there’s an edge of desperation that catches your attention. “What’s done is done.”

“‘What’s done is done’?” You can’t help the incredulous laugh that escapes you. “Is that your new catch phrase? They gonna start printing that on the front of your action figure's box?"

Logan's brows furrow deeper, his mouth turning down in a hard frown. "Watch it," he warns tersely, the edge of a snarl on his lips.

You lean forward, desperate to get anything out of him. "Or what?"

The bar buzzes around you, laughter and music blending into a distant hum, but all you can focus on is him—the way his eyes flare with that familiar spark of rebellion, how handsome he looks under the bar's dim lights, the way his smell is starting to warm your insides despite how mad you are.

You raise your brow, waiting, hoping. He stays silent.

That's it.

You stand abruptly, causing your stool to scrape against the floor loudly. Logan straightens, eyes narrowing as he watches you, but you’re more than done with all of this. You've had enough.

"I'm going for some air,” you say evenly, slipping your jacket off the back of your chair. "Don't follow me."

You turn and walk away before Logan can answer, heading in the direction of the bar's alley door.

You try your best to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach, the first tendrils of dread wrapping themselves around you tighter with every step. Your eyes burn embarrassingly each time you blink, but you refuse to cry.

You’re emotionally spiraling a couple feet from the door when someone suddenly steps in front of you, and you crash into them.

“So sorry, ma’am,” A familiar voice says from somewhere in front of you as two strong hands grip your waist to steady you. “Completely my fault, I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

You crane your head up, eyes dragging from the blue gingham button down stretched over impressive muscle until they land on a pair of blue eyes and blonde head of hair you recognize.

“Steve?” 

Steve Rogers smiles down at you, his hands still lightly resting on your waist. His expression is soft, apologetic, and a little surprised. Your name falls from his lips in a warm greeting, his hands lingering for a second longer before he drops them and takes a small step back.

“I’m surprised you still remember me. It’s been a while,” he says with the same boyish charm you remember, like he hadn’t just watched you nearly barge through the door like it owed you money. “How’ve you been?”

You blink up at Steve, the frustration from your situation with Logan still fresh, swirling through your system like a storm.

How’ve you been?

What a loaded question.

“Better,” you answer with a tight smile, barely convincing yourself. “Just tired. We’ve been so busy recently, you know how it is.”

Steve gives you a searching look, his eyes skimming your face with the kind of care that makes you want to shrink into yourself. His brow furrows slightly, concern flickering in those crystal-clear eyes of his as he studies your face. 

"Are you okay?" he asks, genuinely, like he’s already picked up on the fact that something’s off. 

How could you forget, he’s got the emotional radar of a saint. Lucky you.

"Yeah, sure," you lie, adjusting your jacket and pointedly avoiding the obvious upset that’s probably plastered across your face. You force a smile, hoping he buys it. "Just needed some air. This place is packed."

The furrow of Steve’s brows deepen, his lips pressing into a thin line like he doesn’t believe you. You feel worse under the intense pressure of his knowing stare, like a bug trapped under a magnifying glass.

You’re about to say something—anything—to fill the awkward silence, but then you feel it. That heavy, unmistakable presence at your back.

Of course he didn’t listen.

Steve’s eyes flick over your shoulder, and you don’t even have to turn around to know Logan’s right there, brooding like a dark cloud about to burst. You can practically feel the tension rolling off him in waves as one strong arm slides underneath the thick denim of your jacket and around your waist.

“Cap,” Logan’s clipped voice greets from somewhere behind you, laced with barely concealed irritation as his fingers dig into the cotton of your shirt, staking some sort of unspoken claim.

Steve gives Logan a respectful nod, though his expression remains calm, measured, the same quiet authority he always carries. “Logan,” he greets, smile faltering for the second it takes him to drop his eyes to Logan’s arm. “Nice to see you doing well.”

Logan hums noncommittally, you feel the rumble of it against your back. “Didn’t think this was your scene,” he says to Steve, brow cocked in suspicion.

Steve shakes his head, a small laugh falling from his lips. “It’s not, usually. I got strong armed into joining a few friends.”

“Right,” Logan replies, tone flat like Steve would have a reason to lie.

You can almost see the tension thickening in the air, an electric pulse that shoots straight through you. Logan’s grip tightens subtly, an instinctive reaction to Steve’s presence, but you can feel the subtle heat rising, the way your heart races under his touch despite yourself.

“Steve and I worked together, a base infiltration in Albany a few years ago.” You cut in, shooting Logan a look over your shoulder, like a sharp glare alone could get him to calm down, if only for a second. But he just meets your gaze with that familiar stubbornness, eyes dark and unyielding. 

It’s infuriating, and for a moment, you’re tempted to dive right into it, to unearth the chaos lurking beneath that chiseled exterior. But then you remember where you are—how public it is, how many eyes are on you.

“Feels like a lifetime ago,” Steve says, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

And it does. 

You think of Kevlar squeezed around your ribs, of explosions and buildings falling and the smell of gunpowder.

"Yeah, it does," you reply, ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach and forcing a smile.

“God, you look…” His gaze rakes over you like he can’t help it, the bright blue of his eyes trailing from your face down your legs and back up all over again. You can feel Logan bristle next to you. 

”You look amazing,” Steve finishes with a small shake of his head, million dollar smile still pulling up the corners of his mouth. “Buy you a drink?”

“We were just leavin’, Cap,” Logan cuts in tersely, his arm tightening around your waist even more. His grip is possessive, but it’s not affectionate—it’s an unsaid challenge, a warning. “Calling it an early night.”

You whip your head around, confusion evident on your face. "We?" you parrot back, the word hanging in the air like a challenge of its own. “We haven’t decided anything.”

Logan’s jaw tightens, that familiar stubbornness rearing its head again. His hand splays flat over the span of your lower back, pushing just enough for you to feel the power behind it but not enough to really move you. “Let’s go.”

You look at Steve, then Logan, then the crowded bar, then the door to the alley, and repeat. 

It should be an easy answer, an easy way out of going in circles with Logan even more than you already have.

But you find yourself stuck, feet rooted to the floor as your mind races with a hundred different thoughts in the span of a second.

Your lips part, and you’re not even sure what you’re going to say, when Steve beats you to the punch. 

"She can decide for herself," he says evenly, though there's a subtle shift in his tone. It’s calm, but there’s a steely edge to it, like a well-honed blade concealed beneath all the politeness. He’s still smiling, but it’s less soft now, more hardened around the edges.

Logan’s grip on your waist tightens, his fingers digging in like he's daring Steve to push the envelope any further. “Yeah? Don’t think she needs you speakin’ for her, either.”

"Enough," you snap, stepping out of Logan’s hold with a sharp turn, your voice cutting through the growing storm between them. You turn to him with a hard look, brows pinched in anger. "Fine, let's go."

Your smile feels strained, the edges sharp and jagged as you face Steve, the weight of Logan’s presence at your back heavy and suffocating. “It was great seeing you, Steve. Really.”

Your voice sounds strained even to your own ears.

“We’ll have to catch up some other time,” you add, though the words taste bittersweet on your tongue. 

You can tell he wants to say something, his smile completely dropping as his eyes flit between you and Logan a few times. You give him a pleading look, a reassuring nod that you’ve got this. 

Steve hesitates, you can see the gears turning in his mind, weighing the situation and trying to gauge the tension in the air. But ultimately, he nods, offering you one last smile that’s laced with concern.

“Absolutely,” he says, his voice warm despite the tension hanging in the air. “I’d love to. Just let me know when.”

With one last nod to Logan, he turns and walks away to meld into the crowd until you can’t make out the blue of his shirt anymore.

You don’t turn to Logan as you finally walk out the door. The clunk of his boots follow you the whole way out.

As soon as you’re outside, all the anger sets in at once, burning hot in your stomach as you spin around to face him. The fresh air hits your face like a slap, cool and bracing, but it does nothing to quell the fire simmering inside you.

"You really can't leave well enough alone, can you?" You snap, folding your arms defensively. “You just had to go and stake your territory?”

Logan’s face hardens, his eyes dark under the dim streetlight. “What do you expect me to do? Let you walk away and get buttered up by Rogers while I sit at the bar with my dick in my hand?”

“Steve wasn’t doing anything!” You exclaim, frustration seeping into your every word. “He was just being nice, we’re friends.”

Logan lets out a disbelieving snort, shaking his head hard enough that his hair sways with it. “Nothin’ about that was friendly, kid. You’d have to be fuckin’ blind to not see that.”

You huff, turning your eyes to the sky in exasperation. “Why do you care?” you fire back, heart racing at the challenge. “We’re not together! You’ve made that more than clear!”

Now that the seal is broken, it’s like you can’t stop. Words fall out of your mouth faster than your mind can keep up, all the pent up frustration you’ve felt over the past few weeks boiling over.

“You’re the one that’s acting like nothing happened!” You throw your hands up in exasperation, your voice rising with every word. “You’re the one who disappeared, who’s been avoiding this whole thing like it didn’t mean anything!”

He growls, stepping closer, his presence looming. "You think I don’t know that, kid? You think I haven’t been dealing with this shit—with us?"

"Well, you sure as hell don’t act like it! You don’t talk about it. You don’t even try! You just stand there and expect me to what? Read your mind?”

For a split second, Logan’s expression falters, his shoulders stiffening as if your words struck a nerve. But just as quickly, the mask falls back into place. "I’m no good for you, kid. And you know it. I’m doing you a favor."

"There it is again!" You bark out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. "The martyr complex. You’ve been alive for over a century, Logan. You’ve got time on your side, and you still can’t figure out how to be a decent human being in a relationship?”

He flinches slightly, but his eyes remain locked on yours, anger and frustration swirling behind them. "It’s not that simple."

“Of course it is!" You step forward, closing the gap between you. "You just don’t want to do the hard work. You don’t want to open up, to be vulnerable, because then you’d actually have to face yourself. And God forbid Wolverine confronts something he can’t claw his way out of.”

Logan’s jaw clenches, his eyes blazing, and for a long beat, the two of you stand in a tense, electrified silence. The world around you seems to fall away—no bar, no missions, no X-Men—just the two of you, standing in the alley, raw and exposed.

You don’t know who moves first, you or Logan, before you can register it, the distance between you disappears, swallowed by the pull of all that unresolved tension.

His lips claim yours, fierce and urgent, as if this was the only language he’s fluent in—raw emotion, violent passion. His hands find your waist again, gripping tight, pulling you flush against him.

The kiss is messy, desperate, a collision of teeth and tongues, but it’s exactly what you expected. It’s how you and Logan have always been—no finesse, just fire and stubborn intensity. It’s the only way he knows how to communicate, the only way he can let go, even for a second.

Your hands slide up into his hair, yanking roughly as a guttural growl vibrates from his chest into your mouth. You feel the heat of his skin, the coiled tension in his muscles, and it ignites something wild inside you.

The anger hasn’t left—it’s just morphed into something darker, something hungrier.

The kiss is nothing like the ones from that night in the training room. This one is full of anger and frustration, all the emotions that have been simmering between you two finally bubbling over in an explosive release. His lips are hard, demanding, and the taste of whiskey lingers faintly on his breath, mixing with the metallic scent of the alley.

You push back just as fiercely, your hands tangled in his hair as you try to pour all of your hurt, your confusion, and your pent-up rage into that single kiss. For a moment, it’s all- consuming—hot, reckless, like trying to catch fire in your hands.

“You’re such a fuckin’ punk,” he grates against your lips, kneading the meat of your hips roughly like he’s trying to anchor himself to you. His teeth scrape your bottom lip, his growl vibrating through you like a warning shot, but it only spurs you on.

"You’re one to talk,” you bite back, the heat between you both as volatile as ever.

You drop your hands to his chest, gripping the leather of his jacket in your fists and yanking him closer until there's no space left, until it's hard to tell where the anger ends and the need begins.

Logan growls, the sound reverberating deep in his chest, as his hands move up your back, possessive and rough. “You keep pushin' me, kid. You really wanna see how far I’ll go?"

"Maybe I do," you shoot back, biting down lightly on his lower lip. You taste the blood—his blood—and something primal stirs in you. His healing factor kicks in almost instantly, but the heat between you spikes with the sharp tang of it. It always does.

Logan hisses sharply, tongue swiping over the blood still dotted along his lip before he’s pushing you backwards.

You have no choice but to move with him, blindly stumbling back a few steps until your shoulders hit the wall of the bar. His lips attached to your neck the whole way, teeth nipping at the rapid flutter of your pulse.

It’s like a wildfire spreading between you, all heat and destruction, and the alley around you seems to fade into the background, leaving nothing but the chaotic mess of you and Logan.

You consider the risks of fucking Logan in an alleyway for all of two seconds, every single warning bell in your mind going silent when his hands tighten their hold on your hips to spin your around, pushing you up against the brick roughly.

“Fine,” he concedes, yanking the fabric of your skirt up hard enough you hear a tiny rip. “I’ll give you what you want, princess.”

The sound of his zipper being tugged down might as well be a gunshot with how loudly it reverberates through your mind. Your thighs slide together slickly, aching cunt clenching in anticipation.

The soft sound of Logan pushing his jeans down is the only warning you get before the thick head of his cock is sliding over the wetness staining the fabric of your panties.

“This what you wanted?” he asks, hooking his fingers into the lace to tug it aside and slip the length of himself through your slick folds. “You need a cock in your hungry pussy to feel better?” He lines himself up with your fluttering entrance, pushing gently until the very tip slips in.

Your lips fall open, brow furrowing as he starts feeding you his length one infuriating inch at a time.

Anger still warms your gut, but you find yourself nodding wordlessly. Tiny, desperate sounds escaping your throat the deeper he sinks in.

The stretch of him is almost too much, like he’s splitting you in two. It’s the kind of sting that just barely toes the line of pain and pleasure in the best way. It has you crying out when he finally bottoms out, pressing your forehead against the brick to try and ground yourself.

Logan’s considerate enough to keep still, thumbs rubbing soothing circles over the skin of your hips as you adjust.

“God,” you groan, shifting your hips enough to feel the way his cock rubs along your walls. The burn starts to melt away into pure pleasure with every grind.

“That’s it, baby,” Logan goads, hands still planted on your hips as you start to bounce on his cock in earnest. “Write your name on this cock, tell everyone who it belongs to.”

His words just spur you on, a high whine falling from your lips as you set a steady rhythm. The slap of skin on skin getting louder, echoing around you lewdly. 

“Mm, feels good huh?” he hums, pressing a sweet kiss to your shoulder.

You barely choke out a garbled ‘yes’, thighs starting to shake with the effort of thrusting yourself back. 

“Sorry,” he says, gripping the meat of your hips to pull you back against his cock roughly. “What was that?”

“Yes!” you mewl, cheeks burning. The anger steadily drains from your body the closer you get to come, until it's an afterthought just present enough in your mind to still matter. “Feels so good, please Logan…”

Logan groans under his breath, pulling his hips back back back until he’s reaming forward. He thrusts once, twice, three times before he’s taking over. Big hands anchored to your hips to drag you back on every snap of his hips. 

Your entire body lights up, the pathetic noises passing through slack your lips barely register over the white noise rushing through your ears. Logan’s fucking you like he wants to break you, heavy hips pounding into the meat of your ass like an animal. The slap of it stinging your skin only for him to pull out and leave you empty before filling you again.

You go pliant in his grip, a high moan escaping you as he expertly hits that spongy spot inside of you that has heat pooling in your gut.

“God, I missed this,” he admits into your hair, one hand sliding around to press against your lower stomach. Logan’s hand is massive and blisteringly hot over your skin, cupping and feeling where he punches up into you with every thrust from the outside.

“Fuck, baby,” he growls, pressing his forehead to your back desperately. “Do you feel that? Feel how deep I am inside of you? Gonna fuckin’ fill you up, stuff you so full you’ll be leaking for weeks.”

“Logan,” you gasp, heat coiling in your belly. 

“I know,” he breathes, hips speeding up impossibly faster. “I got you, honey.”

You turn your head, the skin of your cheek scraping over the rough bring with every hard snap of his hips. The thick muscle of his forearm fills your eye line, strong and tan where it cages you to the bar. You swear you can see the blood pumping through his veins. Your stomach jerks with need, your mind buzzing.

Without thinking, you lean forward and bury your teeth in the muscle there. The coppery tang of blood on your tongue sends you reeling, a deep groan rumbling through your chest.

“Fuck!” Logan exclaims, giving one last thrust before he’s burying himself as far as he can. His cock throbs, pulsing as he unloads inside you. Rope after rope of come paints the shaking walls of your cunt, slicking the thrust of his that much more.

Pleasure goes off in sparks all up your spine, lighting up every vertebrae until the fireworks go off in your brain. Your hands claw at the wall desperately, eyes screwing shut as you fly over the edge.

Your mouth falls open in a silent scream as you come, hands digging into the brick hard enough that it cracks and crumbles beneath them, falling to your feet in little rock’s.

Everything around you fizzles out into nothing, just a dull hum cocooning you in this moment, and for just a second it’s like you're floating. 

The heave of Logan’s chest against your back and his lips on your neck only add to that far away feeling, nice enough that has you leaning into the warmth of his body. 

A car horn blaring somewhere in the distance jerks you out of any warm, fuzzy feelings and deposits you back in the real world. Your eyes refocus on the building in front of you, and a displeased groan rips from your chest.

“I made a mess,” you murmur quietly, looking at the two matching dents in the bar's wall and the same red powder staining your hands.

Logan huffs into the sweaty skin of your neck, an amused noise. “That’s alright,” he says, barely out of breath. He pulls out just enough to let his come start leaking out around his dick, sliding down the length of him in thick rivers of white. “So I did.”

You scoff, shaking your head in disgust as he steps away with a snort. Your voice is breathy and small when you speak, “You’re disgusting.”

It's quiet for a long time, both you and Logan dressing yourselves in silence. The thrum of traffic around you mixed with the muffled music bleeding through the wall is the only noise filling the space.

You drag your eyes to him, watching as he yanks up his jean’s zipper while you smooth your skirt down.

“I told you not to follow me. When we were back inside,” you say, voice steadier than before but just as breathless.

Logan meets your eyes, and there’s a pause. For a second, you think maybe he’ll turn around and leave, run away to try and forget this too. Instead, you hear his boots scrape against the gravel as he steps closer.

"I don't take orders well, remember?" His voice is gravelly, like he’s chewing on the words before spitting them out.

"Obviously," you huff under your breath, a humorless laugh shaking your shoulders slightly.

Logan’s lips quirk into a tiny, almost imperceptible smile, but it fades just as quickly.

He takes another step closer, close enough now that you can feel the warmth radiating off him again, his presence as heavy as ever. But this time, there’s something different.

He looks drained. Not physically, but emotionally. Worn down in a way you’ve never seen.

“I’m not good at this,” he admits quietly, his voice tired. “You know that.”

You raise an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. He hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck in that rare, almost vulnerable way he does when he’s out of his element. Finally, he meets your gaze.

“I’m…" he trails off, mouth pulling into a wince like it physically pains him to apologize. "I’m sorry…”

“Wow,” you say slowly, head tilting to the side as you study him. “That was the worst apology I’ve ever gotten.”

Logan narrows his eyes at you, a mix of irritation and reluctant amusement flickering across his face. “You gonna let me talk?” he asks curtly, but there’s no real bite to it.

You sigh, nodding your head for him to continue.

He shifts his weight, a heavy sigh falling from his lips. “I know I’ve been a stubborn ass. I’m used to keeping everyone at arm’s length. It’s safer that way. I’ve lost too many people to just let someone in without a fight.”

His voice drops, laced with a vulnerability you rarely see. “I thought if I just stayed away, it would make things easier for you. I’m not relationship material, kid. I can’t be that guy for you. I don’t want you to get hurt.” 

He shakes his head, his shoulders slumping in more as he talks. “I’m a damn mess, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. I do. A lot. It just scares the hell out of me.”

For a moment, you’re unsure how to respond. Part of you wants to lash out more, to keep the anger burning because it feels safer than the vulnerability you’re feeling now.

On the other hand, for the first time tonight, you see the man behind the adamantium, behind the claws and the gruff exterior. The man behind the Wolverine.

You only see Logan, who’s lived through centuries of loss and pain, who’s learned to build walls so thick even he can’t break through them sometimes.

And damn it, you hate how much you still care. You hate that, even after everything, Logan is the one person who can make you feel like this—angry, frustrated, and vulnerable all at once. But you can’t deny the truth any longer.

Because underneath all the anger and hurt, there’s still that spark. That stupid, stubborn spark that refuses to go out.

You take a step closer, your hand gently reaching for his. “You don’t have to be anything, Logan. You just have to try. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

He nods, a slow, deliberate movement. Taking a slow set closer to you, he takes your cheek in his hand. The bright red rawness of your skin is slowly draining, tiny cuts knitting themselves together. “I can do that.”

He slides his thumb across your cheekbone and somehow, you believe him.

It’s not perfect. It’s not a promise that everything’s going to magically be okay. But it’s a start.

Maybe that’s enough.

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!