#Dynamic Bond Funds

[sigfynfinancialservices]

Types of Debt Mutual Funds

Debt mutual funds primarily invest in debt instruments like treasury bills, certificate of deposits, government bonds, corporate bonds, money market instruments, etc. These funds can be categorized based on the securities they invest in and the maturity period of the underlying securities.

Overnight Funds

Investment mandate: Invest in debt securities with a maturity of one day. Risk: Low risk Suitability: To park idle cash Duration: 0 to 7 days

Liquid Funds

Investment mandate: Invest in money market instruments and high-grade debt securities with 91 days maturity period. Risk: Low risk Suitability: An alternative to a savings bank account Duration: 7 days to 3 months

Ultra Short Duration Funds

Investment mandate: Invest in money market instruments or debt securities with Macaulay Duration of the portfolio between 3 to 6 months. Risk: Low risk Suitability: To park surplus funds/create an emergency fund Duration: 3 to 6 months

Low Duration Funds

Investment mandate: Invest in money market instruments or debt securities with Macaulay Duration of the portfolio between 6 to 12 months. Risk: Low risk Suitability: To park short-term funds Duration: 6 to 12 months

Money Market Funds

Investment mandate: Invest in money market instruments with a maturity period of upto one year Risk: Low risk Suitability: An alternative to fixed deposit Duration: up to 1 year

Short Duration Funds

Investment mandate: Invest in money market instruments or debt securities with Macaulay Duration of the portfolio is between 1 to 3 years Risk: Low risk Suitability: To plan for short-term goals Duration: 1 to 3 years

Medium Duration Funds

Investment mandate: Invest in money market instruments or debt securities with Macaulay Duration of the portfolio is between 3 to 4 years. Risk: Low risk Suitability: To plan for medium-term goals Duration: 3 to 4 years

Medium to Long Duration Funds

Investment mandate: Invest in money market instruments or debt securities with Macaulay Duration of the portfolio is between 4 to 7 years. Risk: Moderate risk Suitability: To plan for medium-term goals Duration: 4 to 7 years

Long Duration Funds

Investment mandate: Invest in money market instruments or debt securities with Macaulay Duration of the portfolio of more than 7 years. Risk: Moderate risk Suitability: To plan for long-term goals Duration: More than 7 years

Dynamic Bond Funds

Investment mandate: Invest in debt securities with varying maturities based on interest rate scenarios. Risk: Moderate risk Suitability: Investors finding it difficult to understand interest movement Duration: 3 to 5 years

Corporate Bond Funds

Investment mandate: Invest a minimum of 80% of portfolio assets in high-rated corporate bonds (rated AA+ or higher) Risk: Low risk Suitability: Looking for regular income and capital protection Duration: 3 to 5 years

Credit Risk Funds

Investment mandate: Invest a minimum of 65% of portfolio assets in corporate bonds (rated AA or below) Risk: Low risk Suitability: Investors willing to take higher default risk Duration: 3 to 5 years

Banking and PSU Funds

Investment mandate: Invest a minimum of 80% of portfolio assets in debt securities issued by banks, PSUs and public financial institutions. Risk: Moderate risk Suitability: Investors seeking to balance yield, safety and liquidity Duration: 1 to 3 years

Gilt Funds

Investment mandate: Invest a minimum of 80% of portfolio assets in government securities with varying maturities (medium to long term) Risk: No risk Suitability: Investors seeking a safer investment option Duration: 3 to 20 years

Floater Funds

Investment mandate: Invest a minimum of 65% of portfolio assets in floating rate instruments Risk: Moderate risk Suitability: Investors willing to take advantage of interest rate movements Duration: 3 to 5 years

Fixed Maturity Plans

Investment mandate: Passively managed closed-ended fund where securities are held till maturity. Risk: Low risk Suitability: Alternative to fixed deposit investment for a fixed duration Duration: Varies depending on each FMP

[ericartem]

The Curious Case of Universal Debt

The Curious Case of Universal Debt #artem

Content 16+ A peculiar phenomenon has emerged that would befuddle even the most pragmatic of accountants: everyone owes everyone. The United States, China, France, Germany, the United Kingdom—name a country, and chances are its national debt is not merely a small sum but a towering Everest of financial obligations. If everyone owes someone, who exactly is holding the IOUs? Let us journey into…

[shapelytimber]

Ok hear me out.......... wlw Wilhuff Tarkin and Orson Krennic-

the dynamic very much is unhinged creative vs rigid control freak in a context of evil bureaucracy- and personally the context is why I love to read stories with imperials jdjdkd nothing is more crack cocaine literature for me than to make drama in a space office filled with awful people

More flavor text and me trying to sell you on why this ship of two truly terrible people is great below vvv

For Krennic, lean more into the evil genius artist. She's been up for 46 hours straight drawing schematics, she's rambling about incomprehensible shit, her only meals have been cigarettes and energy drinks, she's so full of herself she might one day think she's god, she's gonna die by 60. She doesn't care much about the politics of the empire, but they don't bother her either. She works for the imperials because they have a lot funds to give to engineers willing to build them a battle station the size of a moon capable of blowing up planets. Before that she worked on a lot a architectures on imperial center/Coruscant.

The imperial uniforms are a bit boring- so I'm taking full advantage of the fact Krennic is more of an engineer/architect to tweak her uniform a bit (and the cape was already not respecting regulations sooooo) For Tarkin I'm keeping it tho, this woman won't be caught dead without it.

For Tarkin, lean less into the whole buff survivalist aspect- she very much was in her youth, but she *is* a 65 year old woman based on *Peter Cushing*, and has been in a very high and prestigious position within the empire for the past 20 years. She still as an extensive knowledge on how to survive in nature, and fight with her bare hands or a knife, but that doesn't come up very often in her line of work anymore. She still killed a space bear unharmed when she was like 17 tho. She hates chaos and developed the main philosophy that drove the empire to this day : to govern with fear and impose order. She is a bloodthirsty woman in her sixties, with a never ending hunger for power, currently cheating on her wife with a coworker she hates.

They both love the death star more than they tolerate each other, but they did end up bonding over plotting the demise of one coworker they couldn't stand and digging out rebel spies. Make no mistake tho, this is very much a love triangle/trouple between two women and a giant battle station.

In the end, Tarkin killed Krennic by shooting her from orbit with the death star, the project was finally finished, she didn't need her anymore and she might have gotten in the way of her control of the station.

Tarkin dies a few days later during the battle of Yavin, along the death star, not willing to back down in her moments of glory.

PS : a lot of this is inspired by the fic "Propagating structure" by oneinspats ! it's what made me like and understand this pairing, and is truly a great work of fiction. I really think this fic is a masterful work when it comes to expending the character of Krennic, and extrapolating on existing things. Exploring his more creative side, his passion for his work, his truly abysmal lifestyle, giving him a hatred of nature and a background as an architect on Coruscant. While also keeping his horrific aspects, like reading his internal (or external) monologues sometimes makes my skin crawl with how disgusting his ideas are and how deep they run, but making him an interesting and compelling protag for the story. While all of it is surrounded by this delicious dramatic irony, because we know that no matter how hard they try to scheme (or fuck), the death star will blow up and it's incredible.

[starry-bi-sky]

Childhood Friends Danny and Jason

(cw underage smoking / smoking as a form of bonding) (cw Jason thinking Danny killed himself but its only for a moment) (cw depictions of murderous intent? Danny wants to murder the Joker and he's a little descriptive about it)

Now on ao3 :) (and with a response and a third one)

AND ALSO A REMASTERED VERSION THAT YOU SHOULD TOTALLY GO CHECK OUT BECAUSE I WORKED VERY HARD ON IT.

This is… aha. Massive. Word count check: 9k+

this has probably been done before but hey, everyone loves a good trope and I wanted to share my take on this idea. 👏👏 So, Danny Fenton and Jason Todd being childhood friends. The Fentons lived in Crime Alley for a good long while during Danny's childhood. Nobody wanted to fund their research and Jack and Maddie struggled to keep any form of work for a multitude of reasons. Jack worked in construction due to his big build and Maddie had another job elsewhere.

Danny and Jason were friends during that time, really great friends. I'm not super solid on how they met yet but I do know it involves Danny committing petty crime and Jason deciding to jump in and help when he sees Danny struggling. Danny was distrustful (as all crime alley kids ought to be) but they eventually became thick as thieves, committing petty crime together.

While it's all too easy to make Danny the weaker one of the two with Jason protecting him, I actually really like the idea that they protected each other. Growing up (essentially) on the streets means Danny forcibly had to grow a backbone unless he wanted to get trampled all over. He is just as willing to scuffle with the bigger kids as Jason is, and he and Jason regularly fought each other whenever they needed to let off steam, or just because. They were a duo, having each other's backs in tough situations.

(Sometimes the pair of them would sneak out at night and try and get a glimpse of Batman and Robin while they soared through the air. It was like a game between the two of them to see who could spot the dynamic duo first. When they were a little older, Jason would steal his dad's cigarettes and share them with Danny while they searched for Batman and Robin)

So when Danny has to move away when they're eleven years old, it's pretty safe to say that Jason didn't speak to him for a week afterwards. Nothing Danny did could persuade him to otherwise, even when Danny insisted that it wasn't his fault and that he didn't want to move away either, but he didn't have a choice in the matter.

When the week was over, Jason climbed through Danny's window and sat in his room, dead silent and looking upset. he didn't speak until Danny fished out a stolen pack of cigarettes from his bed and handed one to Jason.

(It was a ritual they had where if one of them was upset about something but wasn't saying anything, the other one could then hand them a cigarette -- whether it be the one they were using or a new one -- and that would be an open invitation for the person to vent. The other one who handed him the cigarette wouldn't speak until the venter handed back the cigarette. Then back and forth it would go until the cigarette was gone.)

Jason ranted about how pissed he was about Danny moving, and they promised to try and stay in touch after he leaves. Neither of them had phones, but Danny was determined to send him a letters.

Danny moves to Amity Park and it's... an adjustment, that's for sure. He's angry, grumpy, upset, and every other negative feeling under the sun. He was going to a new middle school with new people he didn't know, away from all of the people he did know and away from his best friend.

(He does however keep his word about sending letters, and mails one out to Jason at the first opportunity.)

He refuses to get along with anyone, butts heads with the teachers, is combative, rude, and openly smokes in class -- which gets him plenty of detentions and a bad reputation. He speaks in a thick Gotham street accent and wears hand-me-down clothes that are too big and baggy on him. (His parents have yet to replace any of their wardrobes as they settle into their new life, and Danny is hesitant to spend the money to get new clothes.)

He only manages to befriend Sam and Tucker because one of the football kids was bullying Tucker and Danny stepped in. It was some blond jerk named Dash and when Dash threw the first punch, Danny broke his nose. Tucker found him later that day and reluctantly thanked him for his help.

Sam and Danny do not get along for the longest time. Sam questions Danny about his upbringing, his accent, his smoking. She judges him for talking back to the teachers despite doing it herself and for ruining his lungs with cigarettes. Danny tells her to fuck off, and when she tries to judge him and Tucker for not being vegetarian, he calls her a privileged brat.

Sam doesn't even look at him for two weeks after, and Danny refuses to apologize. Tucker is caught between a rock and a hard place as his old friend and new friend are feuding with each other.

They... sort it out eventually.

Danny and Jason send each other letters near religiously. Danny complains about Amity Park, and Jason complains about how Crime Alley isn't the same without him. Danny talks about the school and what he's learned, about Sam and Tucker, and how he's been getting into the astronomy books in the library. He steals Jason a book and sends it to him.

When Jason tells Danny that he was adopted by Bruce Wayne, Danny calls bullshit. There's no fucking way Bruce Wayne would even look at Crime Alley, regardless of his charity efforts towards it. But when he checks Gotham news later that week, he's hit in the face with every single news article announcing Bruce Wayne's newest ward; Jason Todd.

Cue freaking out. Jason talks all about living in Wayne Manor and what it's like there. He says that there's a monster library in a part of the house that Bruce says he has free reign over, and that Jason can have anything to eat as long as he asks Alfred to make it and it isn't a desert, and that he has his own monster-sized room that he got to pick out himself and decorate.

(When they both get phones, the first thing either of them do is add each other's numbers.)

When Sam complains about having to go to a Wayne Gala that her parents are dragging her to one weekend, the first thing Danny asks is if he can go with. It surprises Sam and Tucker; Danny was the last person they would have thought wanted to go with. HE hates the rich even more than Sam does. Danny stands firm in his decision, and refuses to elaborate.

"Besides." He says to Sam, with whom he's begun to get along with via 'the enemy of my enemy is a friend'. "Would you rather go alone or with someone you can tolerate?"

She brings him with and convinces her parents to allow Danny to come along, citing that she'll be on her best behavior if they do. They agree, and buy Danny a suit when he says that he doesn't have one of his own.

(He discovers that he hates wearing suit jackets and ties, but vests he doesn't mind. He doesn't like that he has to comb his hair back, but he does to make Sam's parents happy. They give him a crash course in etiquette that Danny's going to forget the next day, and soon enough off they go in a private jet to Gotham)

(he does not tell Jason he's coming.)

he feels mischievous and nervous as they touch down, his stomach swirling as Sam's parents usher them to a high-profile hotel that Danny's only ever dreamed about going into. He feels largely out of place as they walk through the lobby, and falls back on old habits: square shoulders, set jaw, make yourself look like the biggest person in the room.

They get ready in the hotel room, Sam's parents primp and preen for the night incoming, and Sam is dragged into it by her mother. Danny does only what's required of him, and fiddles with the sleeves of his fresh-ironed button-down that's been tailored to his body. He's itching for a cigarette, and didn't bring any with.

Sam's dad helps him with his tie, a bout of kindness that Danny doesn't think is one. Just obligation to prevent Danny from looking like a mess. Sam pesters him again about wanting to come, and his reasons for it, and Danny keeps mum.

He's stone-faced with anxiety as they get closer to the gala, and before they leave the limousine the Mansons rented Sam links arms with him. A form of solidarity that Danny needs as he squeezes their arms together and smiles weakly at her.

The paparazzi are loud, bright, and demanding, shouting questions over questions at them like overlapping tidal waves. Danny ignores them all and focuses on the front doors instead. Sam's parents whisper at the stairs that they are to greet the Waynes first, and Danny's heart leaps to his throat.

His heart is in his ears as they drift closer, Mister Wayne is preoccupied with another rich couple, smiling that charming billionaire smile that Danny saw on every billboard in Gotham, and then some in Amity Park. Getting so close to him feels unreal.

And there by his side is the one and only Jason Todd, who isn't even trying to hide the bored look on his face as he watches Bruce interact with the other adults. He's gotten taller in the year they've been away, and healthier. His hair looks like its been cut professionally and he doesn't look as street kid skinny.

Danny's arm, hooked with Sam's, tightens up, and he resists the urge to rush forward and hug Jason. He watches Jason's eyes sweep left, away from him, and then right, towards him. The air stills for a moment as their eyes lock.

Danny grins toothily at him, lopsided and playful in nature, and sees the moment Jason processes the sight before him. His arm starts slipping out of Sam's at the same time as an ecstatic smile stretches across Jason's face.

His lopsided grin fills out on the other end. "DANNY!" Jason yells, cutting off whatever Bruce Wayne and startling everyone within earshot. There's barely a moment for Bruce to look down when Jason shoves past him and runs at Danny.

Danny yanks his arm out of Sam's, "JASON!" He yells with just as much enthusiasm, and Jason nearly topples them right over when he collides with Danny. His arms wrap around Danny's shoulders, holding onto him tightly, and they're both laughing, spinning around like tops out of joy.

"You didn't tell me you were coming!" Jason cries, sounding accusing. Danny hugs him just as tightly, and laughs when Jason pulls away momentarily to punch his shoulder.

"I wanted it to be a surprise!" He defends, laughing between words as their spinning comes to a stop. They're both reluctant to pull apart, but they do and clutch the sleeves of their elbows tightly. "How could my best friend be adopted by the Bruce Wayne and have me not come confirm it with my own two eyes?"

"I sent you newspaper clippings!" Jason says, narrowing his eyes while his smile betrays his face. Danny quietly notices that his Gotham street accent is faded slightly.

"Oh that's what it was?" Danny's grin turns again, edging into a smirk. He feigns innocence, "I thought that was fire kindling." He has the newspaper clippings hung on the corkboard in his room, proud beyond words about his best friend.

Jason punches him in the shoulder again, hard enough to leave a bruise. "You jackass." He says, ignoring Danny's laughter even when he's holding back his own.

There's a soft, sharp clearing of someone's throat, breaking their attentions away from each other to the one that made the noise.

Bruce Wayne was a tall man, taller than Danny expected, and he looks exactly like his billboards. If less promiscuous than his perfume ads. Danny expects him to be upset with them both for disrupting his pretty rich gala, but instead he just looks gently amused, with an arched eyebrow. Overall though, he just looks fond.

Danny would be the first to admit that Bruce had taken in Jason as a charity case, something to fill the void after his other kid Dick Grayson finally moved out. But Danny’s a good judge of character — or he likes to assume he is — and those are not the eyes of a man who would take Jason in as a charity case. Those are the eyes of a man who actually, genuinely, cares about one Jason Todd.

The wriggly protective thing settles in his chest.

He doesn’t let go of Jason, but he does twist his smile into something a little more polite. Mister Wayne’s eyebrow arches higher, and he turns his blue-blue eyes onto Jason. “Who’s this, Jason?” He has that fancy Gotham Elite accent -- something that sounds like a mix between old transatlantic and faintly British -- that Danny's only heard in passing when he and Jason snuck up to the nicer parts of Gotham.

Jason stares at Mister Wayne, his grip on Danny tightens as his eyes flick to the other onlookers in the room. “This is Danny, B.” He says once his eyes turn back to Mister Wayne. “We grew up in Crime Alley together, he moved to Illinois last year."

Danny can see the uncomfortable expressions cross every rich person's face, murmurs sweeping across the room as soon their uncomfortable gazes turned judgmental and flinty. He's kept track of the tabloids after Jason's adoption, the ones calling him a charity case and looking down on him for being a street kid.

He inches a little closer to Jason, straightening up instinctively, as if they were back in Crime Alley and facing a pack of kids that didn't like them. He can see Sam's surprised expression from the corner of his eye -- he never told Tucker or Sam about where he grew up, although he's sure they had their suspicions.

He looks back to Mister Wayne and meets his blue-blue eyes, his smile has slowly begun to fade. Mister Wayne doesn't miss a beat however, and his smile stays plastered to his face. If anything, it gets a little softer, a little wider. "It's nice to meet you Danny -- Daniel? I'm so glad that Jason has a friend here." He holds out a hand.

Danny eyes him unsurely, and then takes his hand. "It's jus' Danny, Mister Wayne." He says, some of his old accent slipping through as he shook his hand firmly. He would have done it harder, but this was Jason's new guardian, and from Jason's letters he didn't sound too bad. "It's, uh, nice to meet you too. Jason's told me lots about you."

Mister Wayne's brows jump momentarily, he looks intrigued. He looks between Danny and Jason, and claps his hands together softly. "Well, Jay, how would you like to stay with Danny for a while, hm? I'm sure you too have a lot to catch up on."

Hope simmers in Danny's heart, and he glances to Jason to see that same hope on his face. "Really?" He asks, and Mister Wayne nods with a laugh.

"Of course! How could I keep two friends apart? Go on ahead, chum. I'll come get you when the gala ends."

And just like that, Bruce Wayne leaves Jason with Danny, diving back into a conversation with one of the rich gothamites and taking the attention with it as if he were the sun and everyone else a planet orbiting him.

Danny and Jason share grins, and throw their arms around each other with laughter. Danny is on cloud nine, pressing his nose into Jason's shoulder and breathing him in, fingers digging into the back of his suit hard enough to leave wrinkles in his jacket.

Sam demands answers when they finally, for real this time, pull apart. Why didn't he tell her that he was friends with Jason Todd!? Danny slings his arm around Jason's shoulders and keeps him close, and tells her that it was because he wanted it to be a surprise.

Sam's parents have unreadable expressions on their faces, part greed -- Danny is their in to the elusive Bruce Wayne -- and part disdain -- a Gotham street rat. Danny ignores them, they're unimportant in the grand scheme of things.

He introduces Sam to Jason, and Jason to Sam. And off they go to a corner of the room near the buffet table where they can eat and shit talk everyone else in the room in peace.

At some point in the night Sam is called back to her parents to meet some other fancy rich kids her parents want her to get along with, and Danny and Jason go off to the west end balcony to avoid anyone who may try and approach the new Gotham ward.

Danny hops up onto the balcony railing, kicking his feet as Jason pulls a cigarette pack out of his inner jacket pocket, and grins. "Don't tell Bruce," he says, handing the box to Danny first. "He's been trying to get me to quit."

"Hah!" Danny takes one just as Jason slips out a lighter. "That sounds like Jazz. She's been trying to get me to stop since we moved to Amity." Granted, she's been trying ever since she found out before they moved, but now she was even more insistent. "She hasn't found my stash yet."

At the end of the night when the Mansons are leaving and Danny has to leave with them, he walks back to Mister Wayne with Jason to tell him that he's leaving. Mister Wayne mourns his going, and tells him that he's always able to come visit.

"Any friend of Jason's is always welcome to the manor." He says with a blinding grin, pulling Jason close to his side and squeezing him tight. Jason's nose scrunches up, but he doesn't push away.

It becomes a new routine for them. The Mansons are all too happy to bring him with to the Wayne Galas (of which they start receiving more invites to due to their connection with Danny) and Danny is all too happy to spend the evening with Jason again. No matter what, they always end up on the balcony at some point in the night.

And, eventually, Danny is invited to stay at Wayne Manor either for a weekend or for a break. He jumps at the chance when winter break rolls around and his parents start their debate over Santa Claus again.

Danny and Jason stay up late into the night talking or playing video games during their sleepovers, and in the warmer nights they climb out and onto the roof to stargaze. Danny points out constellations - - things he can find in neither Gotham or Amity -- and rambles on and on about space.

There are plenty of times during the Wayne Galas that the event gets attacked by a rogue. More often than he'd like he loses Jason in the crowd, and has later stopped Robin or Batman in his panic to find him.

The first time it happened, he was in tears with terror. He grabbed onto Batman's cape, stopping the man from going back in as he babbled that his Jason Todd was still inside, that he disappeared during the chaos and he couldn't find him. Batman took his hands and calmly told him that he'd find Jason for him, and that he was sure he was okay, but he needed to calm down.

He found Jason later once everything had calmed down, and he screamed at him for disappearing during a rogue attack, if he ever did it again he'll kill him. Then he cried.

The second time it happened, Danny didn't even realize that Jason was gone until everything was already over. They'd been separated before the attack happened. He stopped Robin and Batman before they could leave, trying to keep his breathing under control as he asked again, if they had seen Jason Todd.

"That- that asshole keeps fucking ditching me when these things happen." His voice has an embarrassing wobble in it. "Please-- please tell me you've seen him, that he's alright."

Robin this time steps up to reassure him, that Jason Todd was out of the building. He got him out. "He's probably looking for you too, uhhh..."

"Danny" Danny says, and eyes him up and down. "You're the new Robin right?"

Robin stilled up, and Danny could understand it a little. He'd seen the thoughts on the new Robin online. He wasn't very popular at first. Robin nods curtly, and Batman was shuffled a little closer to him, almost protectively.

Danny grins at him. "Cool." He says, "Me and Jay used to sneak out onto the rooftops sometimes to try and spot Batman and the first Robin, we made it a game." He holds out a fistbump, "Thanks for doing what you do, man. I might not live in Gotham anymore, but I mean it. You're a living legend."

Robin looks like there's something stuck in his throat, and after a beat he returns the fistbump tentatively. "Th- uh, thanks." He stumbles out awkwardly, and then turns away, "Me and B- uh, better go."

Before Danny could even respond, Robin already had his grapple in hand and was grappling away. "You too, Batman." Danny says before Batman can follow.

When Danny sees Jason after that, and weight lifts off his chest and he hits him in the arm again. And then complains that he should have gotten Batman and Robin's autograph, it would have been epic.

By the fifth time it happens, Danny is cussing up a storm when Robin saves him, cursing out Jason and claiming that he needs to put that boy on a fucking leash. "We're a duo!" He scowls when Robin gets him outside, "I got his back, he has mine! I can't have his back when he's got no back to fucking have."

The eighth time it happens, Danny gets held hostage by one of the henchmen. He's become a recognizable friend of the Waynes, and when the Waynes are nowhere to be found, then the next best thing was up to offer. Danny isn't even mad this time around -- just relieved that Jason was fucking off somewhere where he couldn't get hurt.

Robin, however, seemed furious when he arrived, and broke the hostager's jaw with a single flying kick to the face. Jason found him rapidly quick soon after the situation had settled, and apologized over and over again.

Danny slings an arm around his shoulder and laughs that it was fine, Robin saved the day! His legs were shaking with the worn off adrenaline, something he tried to hide from Jason. "I'm just glad it was me instead of you, Jay." He grins. Jason looks like he swallowed a toad.

Jason stops disappearing as often after that, sticking close to Danny's side until the attack was over.

When Danny is fourteen, Jason dies, and his world unravels.

He calls the manor on a late night in April after Jason had stopped responding to his texts. Danny knew that Jason was just recently in a fight with Bruce, but he knows that Bruce loves Jason. He would know where he is, right?

When he calls, Bruce answers with a hoarse "hello?" as if he'd been crying all day, and Danny's blood turns to ice. The anxiety he'd been feeling beforehand doubles in size, and he feels himself stammering.

"Mister- uh- Mister Wayne? Um, I'm calling because Jason--" he hears Bruce inhale sharply on the other line, and his anxiety skyrockets into fear. "--hasn't been answering any of my texts and- and I'm gettin' real worried."

There's silence on the other end, and Danny feels a rock forming in his throat, gross and heavy like he was on the verge of throwing up. "Mister- Bruce? Mister B?"

There's a shaky breath, and then Bruce's voice crackles through the phone. "Um-- Jason, he, he's--" there's a sound like rustling, "he's been killed."

Danny's vision whites out with skyrocketing terror, his mind skidding to a stop. His body rapidly grows hot, and then chills, like a blacksmith striking a heated weapon. "What?"

When the phone call ends, Danny screams himself hoarse. Jazz and his parents come running into his room, his parents equipped with ghost weapons. Instead, they find Danny curled up in his bed, sobbing hoarsely.

Danny almost -- almost -- refuses to attend the funeral, nearly paralyzed with grief. Jazz coaxes him to go, to find closure if anything else, and he drags himself out of bed to go.

He feels numb the entire time. It's closed casket, so he can't even see him for one last time before Jason is buried in the ground. He's silent, and if he think he looks bad, then Bruce looks even worse, like he hadn't slept since Jason died and worse.

Danny grabs his sleeve before he leaves, and when Bruce turns to him with a dull look in his once vibrant eyes, he clings to him tightly. And cries. Bruce clings back just as tight, Danny feels tears drip into his hair.

"Who did it." Danny whispers, voice too hurt to speak any louder, when he pulls back. His fingers curl around Bruce's jacket tightly, desperately. His eyes hurt with tears. "You said he was murdered, B. Please, who did it."

Bruce looks down at him, and for the first time it really does feel like he's looking down at him. His face is blank, and his eyes close in grief. There is no answer, a silent no.

Danny's face twists up all ugly like, and he shakes Bruce's jacket. "Bruce, please. Tell me who did it."

Bruce refuses, his face full of grief.

Danny never returns to Gotham.

Prior to Jason's death and post their reunion, Danny had slowly begun to improve in school. He started caring more, he was putting in more effort, he was doing his homework and was actually enjoying class. There was the bullying from Dash and the A-Listers, but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle, he was ignoring them for the most part.

Come Monday after the funeral, and Danny breaks Dash's nose when he starts up with his shit. He withdrew into himself, and it was like he was back to square one again, except this time it was much worse.

Everyone knew Danny was close friends with Jason Todd. So when news of his death finally reached the ears of Amity Park, the students of Casper High School kept their distance.

That following Friday, Danny dies in the portal and comes back. A month later he becomes Phantom, the ghost-fighting ghost. the ghost Phantom wears his hazmat suit partially undone, showing a tanktop he didn't wear in death under the initial suit while the sleeves are tied around his waist. Vicious, glowing lichtenburg scars travel up his arm and neck and torso, covering half of his face while a pair of scientist-like goggles covers his eyes. He's bitter and angry, showing off his death.

Look at me, Phantom's form says, I am a dead child. Look at me look at me look at me. Mourn me. I am a dead child. LOOK AT ME. MOURN ME.

A few weeks later he enters the ghost zone and realizes that he could find Jason. And he spends a weekend scouring the ghost zone for him. He finds Gotham in the zone, and rather than finding Jason, he finds Robin.

Danny didn't know he'd died. And he flies towards him, asks him if he's seen Jason, reveals that it's him, Danny Fenton. Robin stares at him, mouth agape, and peels off his mask to reveal Jason Todd.

They both cry, and when Danny tells him how he died, Jason looks pale in the face. "You didn't- you didn't kill yourself because of me, did you?"

Danny fervently denies it. No, no. He didn't, he didn't. It was an accident. Totally unrelated. But enough about that, what the hell happened? Bruce wouldn't tell him anything at the funeral.

Jason clams up, his ghostly face losing its color, and Danny curses himself. He tells Jason that he doesn't have to tell him, he doesn't have to say anything. They sit in silence.

"It was the Joker." Jason says.

That's all Danny needs to know. He nods quietly. 'I'll kill him.' He thinks to himself, a stubborn set in his jaw. "Okay."

It had always been a plan; a thought wriggling in the back of Danny's mind ever since Bruce told him that Jason had been killed.

Not died. Killed.

Danny wanted the fucker dead the moment he realized it. He just needed to know who did it. He thinks Bruce knew it too, could probably see it in his eyes the moment Danny asked him who did it. He isn't sure if he should hate Bruce more for keeping it from him now.

They spend hours together, just soaking in each other's presence. Danny tries to take him through the ghost portal, to bring him back to the land of the living. But much like Kitty, Jason's form is tied to the zone. Danny promises to visit every day.

And he does. Or he tries to. The grief doesn't go away, but with the comfort of knowing that Jason was on the other side, Danny feels a little better. He tells Jason about being Phantom, and Jason helps train him. It feels like they're kids again and are fighting just because they want to. Its a bout of familiarity in a place that feels unfamiliar. All they need are cigarettes.

And then six months later he loses him again. Danny scours the ghost zone for him for the second time, and this time he doesn't find him.

His haunt is still in the zone though. He didn't move on. He's still here, somewhere.

Danny is convinced that Jason was in the Elsewhereness, and looks for him in between ghost fights and his social life. He visits Jason's haunt every day, knowing that Jason should be able to feel when another ghost enters his home. He does not show up.

(He never thinks that Jason came back to life, and Jason doesn't remember his time in the ghost zone)

When Danny is nineteen, Vlad Masters blackmails him into going to another Wayne Gala. Begrudgingly, Danny goes. He's taller than he used to be, having inherited his dad's monstrous height and his mom's leanness. He has piercings, some of them he got after a lost bet from Sam and Tucker, and he's given himself an undercut.

He still prefers vests over suit jackets, and he still smokes. A little less than before, he sneaks a pack into his pocket before he leaves, along with a lighter. Vlad gives him a dirty look the whole time - he knows.

"Don't give me that look." "That stuff kills, you know" "I'm already dead."

It's like deja vu when he arrives; an awful bout of deja vu, that is. The paparazzi is still as bright and loud and annoying as it always was, and they don't recognize him at all. Something he thinks of as a soft mercy up until one of the reporters asks Vlad who he is.

Vlad smiles and tugs Danny into the camera frame, "Why, this is my godson!" He crows, and shoots Danny a look that is downright smug I'm sure many of you may know him as Daniel Fenton?"

If looks could kill, Vlad would be ash. Danny isn't quite sure why he still agreed to this -- blackmail or no. He felt itchy being in Gotham; jumpy. He's never forgotten his vow to kill the Joker, in fact it was something he still desperately wants.

But the threat of Rath, the name he chose for his evil future self, haunts him just as much as his murderous intent. If he kills the Joker, would he stop?

Danny's almost afraid of what he'll do if he ever lays eyes on the Joker in person. He doesn't think he'll be able to stop himself from wrapping his hands around that stupid clown's neck and watching the light leave his eyes.

He pushes the thoughts to the side, and smiles lopsidedly as cameras and microphones flood his face, reporters yelling over themselves as they clamor to get a shot of the old Wayne family friend.

Danny turns and walks inside without answering a single question, flexing his fingers in and out of fists. Vlad gracefully hurries after him, and Danny can hear his glare burning into his back.

"You told me to come," Danny hisses to him once he's beside him, meeting Vlad's gaze piercingly, "not that I should play nice."

"Don't embarrass me, Daniel." Vlad hisses back, trying to look the upmost calm as eyes turn onto them. "I'll make you regret it."

"You embarrass yourself, fruitloop." Danny shoots back, walking away before Vlad could get a retort in. He sees Bruce Wayne on the other side of the room.

His heart seizes with nostalgia. He hasn't seen Bruce since Jason's funeral, hasn't spoken to him either. He doesn't know how to feel about him, but he'd been keeping tabs on Bruce both as himself and as Batman.

Danny's feet carry him forwards before he can think about it, silently weaving between the throng of rich people vying for his attention. It's only when he gets closer does he see the little shadow clinging to his side: Damian Wayne.

The newest little bird, Danny realizes, and stifles a smile at the surly expression on Damian's face as two older women coo over him. He reminded him of Sam, who had long since stopped coming to these things the moment she was able to.

The feeling of eyes on him turns Danny's attention away from Damian, and instead finds them back on Bruce's, who stares at him with a little furrow between his brows. As if he recognized him, but he wasn't sure from there.

Danny grins crookedly the moment he's within earshot. "Mister B!" He exclaims, slipping into what remained of his Gotham street accent. Recognition flashed in Bruce's eyes, and the man smiled widely. "Long time no see, old man."

"Danny," Bruce says, his name breathing out like relief. He slips between the crowd surrounding him -- who are now watching Danny -- and pulls Danny into a close hug. "It's good to see you again."

Danny hesitates for a moment -- he wasn't expecting Bruce to hug him -- and returns the gesture. "It's good to see you too, Bruce." He admits. Bruce was still using the same cologne that he did when Danny was a kid. He blinks heavily.

He pulls away quickly, clapping Bruce lightly on the shoulder as Damian quickly latches onto his father's side again. Damian glares daggers at him, fingers digging into Bruce's pantlegs like a possessive little kid.

He made Danny's ghost sense tingle in the back of his throat, creeping up slowly like a spider before stopping suddenly before it reached his mouth. It hummed, and then disappeared.

Danny smothered a frown. Since when did Batman work with ectoplasm? “This must be Damian." He says to Bruce, and holds out a hand to Damian -- he doesn't crouch, he had a feeling that Damian would be less than appreciative if he did that. "You've really expanded the nest since the last time I saw you."

Damian's eyes narrow at him. Bruce laughs lightly, "Ah yes, Tim is around here somewhere. I'm sure you'll see him soon."

"Father," Damian says, his voice layered with an accent. He glares up at Danny with piercing green eyes. "How do you know this man?" He sounds distrustful, Danny respects that and drops his hand.

"This is Danny Fenton." Bruce says, and Danny lets him introduce him. "He was Jason's friend."

An expression similar to bewilderment flashes briefly over Damian's face, and he eyes Danny in disbelief. "Todd had friends?"

Oh. So that's how he wanted to be. Bruce had a little elitist on his hands. Danny's smile drops like a deadweight, and any lingering endearment he had hardens like ice in his chest, fury slowly taking its place like a flickering candlelight. "It's not polite to speak ill of the dead, Mister Wayne." He says coldly, his voice made of chips of ice.

Damian blinks, the disbelief disappearing from his face. The closest thing to a recoil Danny thinks he's going to get. He doesn't care. No one speaks about his best friend that way.

"I grew up with Jason, actually." He continues, breathing in slow and deep, trying to keep the ghostly possessive-protective-rage under control. "I was his best friend."

He turns, almost robotically, towards Bruce, and tries not to look so angry. "I'm going to go find Tim, Mister B." He says, and tries to offer up a weak smile for the man. It comes out as a grimace instead.

"And..." he pauses, flicks his eyes towards Damian, and then looks at Bruce. "I'll... try and keep in contact, B. Tell Dick I said hi, alright? I'll see you in a little bit."

Bruce nods, looking vaguely disappointed and sighing slow through his nose. Danny walks away as Bruce turns to address his youngest, and doesn't bother listening in on what he has to say.

He does, eventually, find Tim Drake. He spots him in a crowd instantly - it's hard not to, and he makes his way over to him. He's not sure Tim Drake would recognize him, Bruce didn't at first and Danny had been around him constantly.

Except Tim Drake does recognize him, much to Danny's surprise. They lock eyes and Tim immediately makes his way over to him. "Danny Fenton!" He says and stops in front of him, "What a surprise, we weren't expecting you tonight."

"Tim Drake," Danny replies, smiling a little as his earlier hurt begins to fade away. "I'm surprised you know me."

"There are pictures of you in the manor with Jason." Tim explains, stuffing his hands into his pockets with an easy-going smile. "It's hard not to know you."

"It’s hard not to know you too,” Danny retorts, a sly smile slowly spreading across his face. “Although you’re a lot taller than you used to be, when you were lurking around Bruce and Jason and I.”

Ohhh Danny recognizes him alright. One part due to all the news articles and tabloids on him after he was adopted by Bruce, and the other part because he remembers the little shadow lurking near plants pots and table legs that used to follow him and Jason around at galas just like these.

Knowing that Jason was Robin, he wonders if Jason knew he was there too.

The effect is immediate: Tim’s eyes grow comically large, and a red tint glows at the tip of his ears as he shrinks back like a turtle trying to hide into its shell. “You— you noticed that!?” He hisses.

“I did!” Danny grins, large and wide, stifling a laugh as the red tint spreads over Tim’s cheeks and nose. He looks mortified. Danny coos. “Aww, I thought it was adorable that Jason had a little shadow. I’m sure he would have loved you if you had just come over and said hi. He had a big soft spot for kids.”

Tim snorts and it— it almost sounds derisive? “Sure he would.” He looks sad, and the mirth in Danny’s chest shrivels up like a flower without light. The smile fades from his face, and all that’s left is a strange, staunch reminder that Danny and Bruce weren’t the only ones that probably mourned.

He touches Tim’s shoulder lightly, “Hey, I’m sorry.” He says, trying to look as apologetic as he feels. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I’m sorry, I miss him too.” Like a fucking limb he missed him.

There’s something that flickers in Tim’s eyes, passing through too fast for Danny to realize what it is. He assumes its gratefulness, because Tim relaxes a little and offers him a weak little smile. “I wish I had talked to him.”

Danny sees an out and takes it, he forces out a short laugh, grinning widely. “I can tell you all about him if you’d like,” he offers, “I told Mister B I’d keep in touch anyways. I’ve missed him and Alfred quite a lot in the last few years.”

“Not Dick?”

“That dipstick wasn’t around often enough for me to form any sort of emotional attachment to him.” Danny says in a half-complaining tone, placing his hands on his hips. “Although I did like his puns.”

Tim snickers, “I’ll tell him you said that then. Nobody likes his puns.”

“Go on ahead,” Danny grins, laughter swirling in his chest and making his core thrum with warmth. Damn, he’s missed this family. “I stand by my decision. Puns are funny.”

“Let’s get a photo then.” Tim says with a hand already fishing in his pocket for his phone. “He’ll be devastated to know that you were here and he didn’t get to see you.”

“Sure.” And Danny sidles on next to Tim, throwing an arm around his shoulders — and making a noise of surprise when his arm was able to fit comfortably — as if he was just resting it on a counter.

He totally forgot how tall he was compared to Tim. Forgot that he’d been looking down the entire time they’d been talking. “Why’d I get my dad’s height.” He complains, and bends his knees as Tim raises the phone with the front-facing camera on.

Tim snickers under his breath, and takes the picture while they’re both smiling wide. Danny immediately stands up, and peers over Tim’s shoulders to look at the picture.

It’s a good one, with the fringe of Danny’s curls falling slightly over his left eye and making the dimple on his right cheek more prominent. He could see the barely-there smattering of freckles he had across his nose, the ones that became more prominent when the sun was out. His smile was lopsided, Danny’s favorite kind of smile.

He whistles lowly, “That’s a good one,” he says aloud, and smiles impishly at Tim when he looks at him. “You should send that one, I look hot in it.”

Tim snorts, his ears reddening as he looks down at his phone. “Yeah sure, no problem.” He says quickly, and Danny looks away when he pulls up the messenger app. He’s never felt comfortable looking over people’s shoulders when they were on their phone.

“I’m gonna go take a smoke break.” He shoves his hands into his pockets and curls his fingers around the box and lighter inside. “I’ll—“

“Be on the west-end balcony.” Tim finishes, the red in his ears darkening as he glances up from his phone to smile embarrassedly. “I know.”

Danny snorts, “Okay.” His voice is thick with amusement. “Let me know how Dipstick reacts, alright?” He backs up slowly, awaiting Tim’s response. Tim merely waves a hand at him, a weak gesture of “yeah yeah” that makes Danny grin before he flips around and marches towards his favorite smoking balcony.

———————

(Tim pulls up the family group chat and loads the selfie into the text bar. His face feels warm with embarrassment even as his thumbs fly across the screen.

Tim: look who i found at the latest charity gala :) [image]

Hee awaits eagerly a response, and finds he doesn’t have to wait long. Dick’s thought bubble appears on screen, then Cass’s — of which it only exists for a moment before disappearing.

Dick: holy shit, is that who i think it is?

Tim responds quickly, and his message sends.

Tim: yep. He wanted me to tell you that he thinks your jokes are funny.

Dick: they are funny

Tim rolls his eyes and thinks for a moment, really thinks. He weighs his pros and cons. And then his fingers fly across the screen again.

Tim: hey Jason are you not gonna say anything?

There’s no response for all of thirty seconds — of which it stretches on to an uncomfortably long minute — and then Jason’s thought bubble appears.

Jason: what do i have to say to a bunch of idiots blowing up my phone in the middle of patrol?

Tim: harsh. do you recognize the guy in the photo?

Jason’s response is instant. Too fast for him to have actually looked at the photo itself. He’s just trying to spite Tim then. Tim doesn’t care, he has the upper hand here

Jason: no and I don’t care, i have patrol

Tim knows he didn’t look at the photo, and yet he can’t help stifle a shit-eating smile and feign innocence

Tim: really? You and Danny used to be so close, color me surprised

His teeth dig into his lower lip, he doesn’t need to in order to hide a smile. But it gives him something to do. Jason is worryingly silent for a long, long time, and Tim can almost imagine him staring long and hard at the selfie. Tim knows he will be later.

Finally, Jason’s text bubble shows up. It exists for a long time, before finally Tim’s phone buzzes with his message alert.

Jason: that’s danny?

Tim feels all too gleeful. Smugness swirling in his chest like kicked up sand as he types his response: yep! Apparently he showed up today, although I’m not sure with who since I don’t see Miss Manson around here.

Damian: Father says to get off your phone, Drake. We are at a Gala and your behavior is most unbecoming

Tim: can it demon spawn, I was just telling Jason that his friend Danny is here

Damian: He can’t be too important if he doesn’t even know Todd is alive

Tim: how would you know that?

Damian: When Father introduced him as Todd’s friend, I expressed my surprise that Todd even had friends, considering how unpleasant he can be. Fenton became quite cross with me after that and quickly excused himself thereafter

Dick: you said what!? Damian that’s not okay

Damian: Father made that quite clear after Fenton left in a huff. My mistake for thinking that Todd had told his ‘supposed best friend’ that he was alive.

Dick: he didn’t even tell us we were alive at first

Damian: He did eventually, didn’t he? Clearly Todd doesn’t seem to care too much about Fenton if he hasn’t even informed him of his being alive at this point.

Jason’s thought bubble quickly pops up, and then dissipates, then pops up again. Tim quickly pockets his phone before he can see Jason’s response. He doesn’t feel smug anymore, just uncomfortable.)

———————

Stepping out onto the west-end balcony feels like a blast from the past. A painful one at that. Danny’s fingers dig into his cigarette pack, and he pulls it out with a sense of bittersweet familiarity.

It feels like a lifetime ago that he once stood here with Jason. The package clunks dully as his fingers scrape against the side, and he fishes a cigarette out of the box before stuffing it back into his pocket.

“Quite the night isn’t it.” He says to nothing, to ghosts of the past, to himself. He turns and sits on the railing, sticking his legs out like a tripping hazard while Gotham’s hot city wind blows through the air.

He looks up and only sees the ugly pollution yellow sky looking down at him. It’s an unfamiliar feeling to him. He loves the stars and yet when faced with a smog that covers it, he feels more at home.

Danny’s fingers find the lighter, and with a few clicks a small open flame appears in existence. There’s a poem here, he can feel it. But he feels too tired to find it.

The cigarette lights, and the lighter dies in response. Returning back to his coffin-like pocket until he needs to use it again. He pulls a leg up, resting his chin on his knee with a heavy, tired sigh.

He soaks in the sounds around him. The ugly city warmth nips at his jaw. The music inside is muffled by the force of two glass doors and walls on all four sides, and Danny can hear late night traffic coming by on the road nearby. It’s a special kind of ambience you can only find on the west end balcony.

Half a decade ago, Danny had played a part with that ambience with Jason. Now it was just him, and Jason was nowhere to be found. It left a hopeless kind of feeling in his chest. An all-suffocating kind of fear that filled him head to toe with an intensity only ghosts could have.

His body winds up like a spring, and Danny holds his breath. When he exhales two minutes later, the spring stutters and jolts, and his body relaxes with a tremble.

He misses Jason. He misses Jason.

Ghosts are emotional creatures. They feel it from their crown to their soles. And emotional wounds never really heal. They scab over and fester, waiting to be picked at again and again so it can bleed as fresh as it did when it first opened.

Danny’s grief is never going to go away, he thinks. It’s clung to him like a parasite; shaped him and molded him. The wound was too close to him when he died, and now it will stay with him forever.

He opens his eyes when his ghost sense tingles, a heavy feeling in his throat that is neither nicotine nor grief. It’s just like Damian’s, but stronger. Potent. Older. It reaches the top of Danny’s throat and sits at the base of his tongue, like a hand about to suffocate him.

He looks up, cigarette hanging off his lips, and the Red Hood drops down beside him. He stands in the same spot Jason once did, and that alone makes the ghostly core in Danny seize possessively.

Don’t you dare stand where he stood, it hisses, coiling around his lungs like smog. Danny grits his teeth and feels his ghost sense evaporate. He pulls the cigarette out of his mouth, and nicotine smoke pours out like a cheap version of his ghost sense.

“Red Hood.” He says plainly, his free hand coiling and uncoiling like cat’s claws against the railing. “A surprise to see you here.”

Danny knows through process of elimination who most of the Gotham vigilantes are: Dick is Nightwing, Bruce is Batman, Tim is Red Robin, Damian is Robin, and Cass is Orphan. There are a few who he doesn’t know, however. Like Batgirl and Red Hood.

It’s fine, he doesn’t need to know. Danny of all people understands the importance of a secret identity.

Red Hood doesn’t say anything, just stares at him as if he’s a deer in headlights. His body all tensed up like he isn’t sure what to do now that he’s here in front of Danny. Like he wasn’t expecting Danny to be here at all.

Danny’s brows furrow. “Sorry, am I in your spot?” He asks, and begins to push off the railing. “I didn’t think vigilantes used the Wayne Hall west-end balcony, I can leave if you want.”

He’s already begun to move towards the door.

The Red Hood lurches in his spot, “No!” He yells, and Danny stops in place with raising eyebrows. Red Hood’s fingers cringe, and he straightens up.

He’s shorter than Danny, he notes. Which isn’t much of revelation. Everyone is shorter than Danny.

“No,” Red Hood repeats, sounding sturdier than before, “No. You’re fine. I’m just stopping here for a quick rest before resuming patrol.”

…Danny doesn’t question it. It’s none of his business about other vigilantes and their practices. He shrugs and breathes out more smoke, “Alright.” He says, and walks back over to the railing to sit on it. “I’m Danny, by the way.”

The Red Hood nods, and a silence falls over them. Danny doesn’t care enough to make it feel uncomfortable, but the Red Hood seems unsettled by something. Lost in thought. He leans his back against the railing similar to Danny, and then switches a few seconds later to a new pose.

He does it again, and again, and again. Until finally he flips over and leans his stomach against the railing, arms resting against it. It is starkly like what Jason used to do, and Danny stares at him long and hard.

He frowns. And says nothing.

When Danny’s cigarette is nothing more than a butt of nicotine, he crushes it in his hand and watches the ash flutter down to the ground. The heat stings his hand, but its nothing his ghostly healing can’t fix.

The Red Hood is already holding out another one when Danny’s hand drifts to his pocket for the box.

Danny stares at him, sudden wariness opening up like floodgates that sit at the bottom of his stomach.

His frown deepens, his eyes flicker up and down at Red Hood. His hands hover over his pocket. “I have my own.” He says, and watches subtly as the Red Hood hides a wilt. As if he’d been expecting Danny to take it.

“Alright.” The Red Hood says, trying to sound unbothered. He retracts the cigarette away from Danny, quiet all the way. He’s looking away.

Danny plucks the cigarette out of his hand, startling the Hood enough that Red snaps back to look at him. Danny yanks his lighter from his pocket. “I won’t say no to a free cigarette.” He says, slightly muffled with the stick between his teeth. It lights.

Silence falls over them again, and when one minute stretches into five, whatever hope that had been digging into the shoulders of Red Hood finally pulls away and leaves him slumping subtly.

‘A ciggie for your thoughts?’ Nine year old Jason Todd whispers one night with an impish grin, holding up a cigarette pinched between his two fingers. ‘I stole it from my old man. He won’t even notice its gone.’

Danny is halfway through it when he speaks. “The Joker killed my best friend.” He says, and watches from the corner of his eye as the Red Hood flinches. Is he startled by Danny speaking, or startled by the bluntness of him starting?

“He beat him to death.” Danny continues, staring stone-faced away from Red Hood. His grief claws up his lungs and burrows into his heart again. His fingers dig into the railing. “He beat my best friend to death.”

The Red Hood is silent, his body as still as the grave. Silence stretches out between them both, and like he’d been thinking, the Hood finally speaks: “How do you know?”

He’s not holding the cigarette, he broke his and Jason’s rule. Danny bounces the stick between his fingers. “His ghost told me.” He says, taking a trembling breath. “His ghost told me so, before he disappeared.”

The Red Hood says nothing, and Danny gathers his thoughts. The ones that had been buried deep next to his core, shoved down ever since Danny learned of Rath and a terrible future where a world is destroyed by one ghost’s hands.

Danny has never said it out loud before. His face scrunches up briefly, and then smooths out when his eyes squeeze shut. “I’m going to kill him, Red Hood.” He murmurs when he opens his eyes, turning his face toward the vigilante. The sound is sucked out of the air.

The Red Hood stares at him, but he doesn’t say a word. Danny pushes on, teeth grinding into teeth as he flips his silvery scarred hand back and forth. Palm up, palm down. “It’s why I haven’t been back to Gotham in a while.” He admits, voice still quiet. “If I see the Joker I will kill him, and I won’t feel bad for it.”

“Not today though,” he says, and closes his hand, “today I’m here on a favor to Vlad Masters. Then after this I’ll go visit my friend. I need to apologize for not seeing his grave in a while. I’ll have to stop by a florist to see if they have any zinnias. Jay likes those.”

He takes out the cigarette in his mouth and breathes out one last cloud of smoke. And then he crushes the cigarette stick under his foot and walks back inside.

[keehomania]

paradise — jjk (18+)

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ smut — loosely inspired by outer banks — friends with benefits, kook/pogue dynamic, violence, manipulative!toxic!jungkook, p in v intercourse, jealousy, creampie, car sex, degradation, jungkook is mean lol, tit play, lots of yapping, orgasm denial, spanking, drug usage

hell is other people. at least, according to sartre. everybody seemed to have their own personal perspective. you had your sartres, your tolstoys, and even your nietzsches, if that struck your fancy. that was the beauty of philosophy—everybody had their own way of looking at the glass, whether it was half-full or not. the sheer essence relied on the fact that, those who cared enough, would put their minds to great use in order to put things into perspective. it was subjective. to sartre, hell was other people. to you, it was jeon jungkook.

it was good. it was so good, every part of it that your mind knew was bad, seemed to be countered by a much more primitive instinct. it was only natural, above all else. it allowed you to indulge in your primal instincts, in a way that would raise eyebrows instead of praise. to hell with it, you didn’t need praise. you just needed to live, and if anybody was going to tell you how to do it, it was going to be you. sartre could never let himself go and become incarnated in his body, but thankfully, you were no sartre.

there was a certain division that led life on the island, one that seemed to resemble the States’ red-blue way of thinking. there was a hint of bourgeoisie to it, maybe even more than a hint. one side of the island belonged to those who managed to get by, living on scraps and making the most of them. they were the commoners who, despite working to live, still lived. the other side, though basing their entire lives on privilege and luxury, ceased to live. they merely existed. they existed, with their three-story homes, trust funds, and private schools, but they didn’t know the first thing about living.

living was what you did best, and you had nothing to regret. you could only wish to turn back time, to shed the last eighteen years of your life the way a snake shed its skin, and to start over. you’d trade the hand you were dealt at birth, every single privilege that was guaranteed, for the life you were now living. your blood ran blue, but your heart knew exactly where home was, much to your parents’ dismay. while they weren’t supportive, they were willing to look the other way. they knew nothing could replace the bonds formed—your second family, even if it was on the cut.

at times, you were in over your head. even with the first rays of sunlight making their breakthrough of the day, the smell of salt in the air, the feeling of coarse sand between your toes—sometimes, it wasn’t enough to quiet your mind. you stared into the sea, watching the boats grow smaller and smaller as they travelled down south, the corners of your lips turning downward as you did so. during moments like these, you would reminisce, and you would do it quietly. you would take a minute to grieve the life you had discarded, the friendships you had ended, and the luxuries you kissed goodbye. you were happier now, the half-full glass part of your mind would tell you, but the other still asked, what if you weren’t?

“these tides got me by the fucking balls, dude,” was the first thing to have snapped you out of your own thoughts, earning your attention in a matter of seconds. finally, you felt yourself relax. you could see taehyung in the water, wrestling with the surfboard under his arm as he gasped for air. for a second, he met your gaze, and you found yourself smiling. jimin stood over him, crouching against the floorboards of the boat—the same one he named in taehyung’s honor, the “dokdo maknae.”

you watched in amusement as he extended his hand, offering his best man help, even if it seemed like the world’s biggest struggle. “do us all a favor and just let him drown next time,” you called out, finally propping yourself off the ground and back onto your feet. despite the middle finger sent your way, you could hear seulgi cracking up just a few feet away from you. “yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” taehyung responded as he dried himself off with an old rag.

you shook your head, your grin widening as you made your way toward seulgi, who was sitting cross-legged near the cooler, sunglasses perched on her nose, sipping a beer. the sun spilled across the boat, warming the floorboards beneath your bare feet and casting golden ripples across the water. the air smelled of salt and sunscreen, a scent that always brought you peace. “boys,” seulgi said with a smirk as you dropped down beside her, stealing her beer for a quick sip. “so dramatic.”

before you could respond, taehyung, now aboard, threw the rag to the side with a flourish. “you want dramatic? i’ll show you dramatic,” he declared, heading toward the cooler with newfound purpose. you and seulgi exchanged a look, already bracing for whatever ridiculousness he was about to pull. “i bet i can shotgun two beers faster than anyone here,” he announced, grabbing two cans from the cooler.

“oh, please,” you said, leaning back on your elbows as the sun kissed your skin. “you can’t get through one can without it looking like you pissed yourself.”

“you need to learn to have a little more faith in me,” taehyung replied with a confident smirk, already cracking open the cans. jimin was on the other side of the boat, shaking his head. “this should be good,” seulgi murmured, pulling her sunglasses down just enough to watch the scene unfold.

with exaggerated theatrics, taehyung lifted both cans, the liquid already beginning to foam. “one, two,” he started, his voice trailing off as he tilted them back, the first gush of bitter liquid splashing wildly. you couldn’t help the laughter bubbling up as, true to form, taehyung managed to spill more than he drank. within seconds, beer was running down his arms, soaking his shirt, and unfortunately, spraying onto both you and seulgi in the process. “see, i can totally do it!” he exclaimed triumphantly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“you asshole,” you said, feigning annoyance as you flicked droplets off your arms. “you got us all wet!” through her laughter, seulgi added, “You’re a walking disaster, dude.”

taehyung, unbothered, gave you both a devilish grin. “i’ve got a solution,” he said, stepping closer to you. before you could react, his arms were already wrapped around your waist, lifting you off the ground and and throwing you effortlessly over his shoulder. “taehyung, don’t even try it!” you yelled, pounding on his back, but he was already sprinting toward the edge of the boat.

the impact was cold and sudden, the water enveloping you in an instant. you came up for air sputtering, pushing your wet hair out of your face as you glared at him. “you’re such an ass,” you snapped, splashing water in his direction, but your laughter betrayed you. his grin was wide and unrepentant as he treaded water, his dark hair plastered to his forehead. “and yet, you can’t get enough of me,” he teased, dodging your splash with ease. despite your protests, you couldn’t deny the truth of his words. moments like these—laughter, salt water, the sun rising higher in the sky—reminded you why you chose this life.

the sun hung high in the sky, casting long shadows on the beach as the waves crashed in a soothing rhythm against the shore. you lay sprawled on a towel beside seulgi, your sunglasses shielding your eyes from the glare, the heat of the day seeping into your skin. taehyung and jimin had ventured further down the beach with their fishing rods, their laughter echoing faintly over the sound of the waves.

seulgi was flipping through a fashion magazine, occasionally pausing to comment on an outfit or a piece of jewelry, but you were only half-listening. your mind drifted, lulled by the sea breeze and the distant hum of voices. that was, until your phone buzzed beside you. you hesitated, a pang of unease washing over you as you turned the screen over. the name flashing on the screen was both familiar and unwelcome.

do not answer: wya

your stomach twisted as you stared at the message, the three letters pulling you from the tranquility of the moment. you didn’t have to think twice to know why he was texting. jeon jungkook always had a way of turning up uninvited, unannounced, and unwelcome—yet there was something about him that kept you from cutting him off entirely. you scoffed quietly, a sound that barely escaped your throat, but seulgi noticed the subtle change in your demeanor.

“what’s wrong?” she asked, lowering her sunglasses to give you a curious glance. you forced a laugh, shaking your head as you quickly locked your phone. “wrong number, i guess.” she raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, but didn’t push further. you couldn’t risk her knowing even a fraction of what you had going on with jungkook. seulgi was fiercely loyal, and if she ever found out about the tangled mess of mistakes and emotions you had with him, she’d never let it slide.

your thoughts churned as you leaned back against the towel, staring at the sky. what had started as a drunken mistake one night at a party thrown by the rich and reckless had somehow spiraled into something far more complicated. jungkook had a reputation that preceded him—dangerous, aloof, and always out for his own gain. but with you, he was different. or at least, you’d convinced yourself he was. you thought back to the nights where he’d been unexpectedly gentle, his touch careful and his words soft, as though the walls he put up for the world didn’t exist in your presence. it was a lie you clung to, a fantasy you chased, even when his actions painted a different picture.

the resentment had been simmering for a while, but it reached its boiling point last week. you’d seen him at the golfing event, his arm slung around another girl as though you didn’t exist. it was the final confirmation you needed: he wasn’t what you wanted him to be. still, your fingers hovered over your phone, and before you could stop yourself, you typed out a response.

you: beach

you: taehyung’s throwing a party tn

the reply came faster than you anticipated, as though he had been waiting for your message.

do not answer: omw

your jaw tightened as you stared at the screen, irritation bubbling up inside you. the audacity he had was almost impressive, if it weren’t so infuriating.

you: ur not invited lol

a beat passed before his response lit up the screen, and it was exactly what you expected.

do not amswer: see u tonight

you sighed, tossing your phone onto the towel beside you with more force than necessary. the nerve of him.

“what’s up?” seulgi asked, glancing at you from over the rim of her sunglasses. “nothing,” you said quickly, forcing a smile. “just work stuff.” she nodded, satisfied with the answer, and returned to her magazine. but your mind was elsewhere, already bracing for the chaos jungkook’s presence would inevitably bring. you hated how easily he got under your skin, how no matter how many times you told yourself you were done, you always found yourself right back where you started.

the memory seemed to hit you like a wave, drowning out the warmth of the sun and the soft sounds of the beach. it wasn’t just a moment—it was the catalyst, the precise point in time when your life split into the “before” and “after” of jeon jungkook. you’d never forget the smell of salt in the air mixed with the sharp bite of alcohol, or the way the world seemed to tilt slightly as you tried to keep your balance.

that night, the four of you—taehyung, jimin, seulgi, and yourself—had made the brilliant decision to sneak off to the other side of the island. it wasn’t a small feat; the jungle separating your beach from theirs was dense and wild, and every crack of a branch or rustle of leaves had sent shivers down your spine. but the promise of free booze and a party hosted by the infamous jungkook and his equally notorious friends had been too tempting.

the house where the party raged was perched on the cliffside, its floor-to-ceiling windows glowing with golden light. music blared loud enough to make the walls tremble, and the sound of laughter and splashes echoed from the pool. you hadn’t wasted any time diving headfirst into the expensive cocktails. the smooth taste of rum burned in the back of your throat, but it only fueled the high you were chasing. “have a hit, c’mon, it’s on the house,” a voice had called out over the noise.

you turned just in time to see jungkook leaning casually against a pool table, his friend nervously fidgeting with a rolled-up dollar bill in hand. the sharp scent of chemicals lingered in the air, unmistakable even in the chaos of the party. “don’t pussy out on me now, okay?” his voice was smooth, almost coaxing, but the sharp edge in his words betrayed the threat beneath. his friends—if you could call them that—laughed on cue, while a group of girls lounged behind him, their eyes glued to him like moths to a flame.

something about the scene struck you wrong. even through the haze of alcohol, your disdain bubbled up. the scoff that escaped your lips wasn’t intentional, but it was loud enough to carry. jungkook’s head snapped up, his sharp gaze landing on you like a laser. “you get lost, whore? cut’s on the other side of the island,” he sneered, his words slicing through the air like a knife. laughter erupted around him, his friends quick to follow his lead. but you weren’t about to back down, not to him.

“you get lost, asshole? addicts anonymous is on the other side of the island,” you shot back, your words sharper than you expected. the laughter died instantly, replaced by a stunned silence. even his so-called friends seemed intrigued, their eyes darting between you and him like they were watching a bomb about to go off. jungkook’s expression shifted, his smirk faltering as he straightened, his full attention now focused on you.

“you’ve got a mouth on you,” he murmured, stepping away from the table. “and you’ve got a habit,” you retorted, moving closer despite the voice in your head screaming for you to stop.

he tilted his head, studying you with a look that sent a shiver down your spine. “let me do my thing, yeah? shit cost me a lot.” there it was—the money. it always came down to that with guys like him. you watched as he turned back to his friend, offering a look that was equal parts mocking and demanding. the guy hesitated, the dollar trembling in his grip.

before you could think better of it, your feet carried you forward. with a boldness that surprised even you, you snatched the bill from the guy’s hand, shoving jungkook aside with a force you hadn’t known you possessed. “if you’re gonna waste your money, might as well make it worth it,” you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

the rolled-up bill felt foreign in your hand, and your heart pounded in your chest as you leaned down, the sharp sting of the powder burning your nostrils. you inhaled until the line was gone, ignoring the searing pain and the metallic taste that followed.

straightening up, you turned to jungkook, your head spinning but your resolve unshaken. “you can leave him alone now,” you said, your voice steady despite the chaos in your mind. “not everyone needs coke and viagra to keep their dick hard.” the room fell silent, all eyes on you. jungkook stared at you, his expression unreadable, but there was something in his gaze—a flicker of surprise, maybe even admiration.

“you’d be surprised just how hard it can get,” he said, his voice low and dripping with amusement. your stomach twisted, but you refused to falter. “try me,” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

his lips curled into a smirk, and for a moment, neither of you moved. then, without breaking eye contact, you turned on your heel and walked past him, ignoring the way your heart raced as you climbed the stairs. the sound of his footsteps behind you sent a chill down your spine, but you didn’t stop. you knew where this was headed. you knew it was a mistake. and yet, as you reached the top of the stairs and felt his hand wrap around your wrist, pulling you to face him, you knew you wouldn’t stop it. not tonight.

the morning after was worse than anything you could have anticipated. the headache was a dull roar behind your eyes, pulsing in time with your heartbeat, and the sour tang of regret clung to you like a second skin. the smell of sweat, alcohol, and sex lingered in the air, mixing into a nauseating reminder of the night before.

the room was bathed in the soft golden glow of the early morning sun filtering through the curtains. you blinked against the light, your senses slowly coming back to you as the events of the previous night unfurled in your mind. the party. the lines. the liquor. jungkook. shit, jungkook.

you pushed yourself upright, the sheet pooling around your waist as you surveyed the room with growing horror. his room. his bed. his things scattered around like trophies of his carelessness. and there, beside you, his arm lazily draped over the empty space, was the man himself. he looked peaceful, almost innocent in his sleep—a huge contrast to the wild, arrogant man from the night before. his dark hair was tousled against the pillow, his chest rising and falling steadily. you could make out the faint remnants of scratches on his shoulders and chest, and the sight made your stomach flip.

you slid out of his bed as quietly as you could, every movement measured and deliberate. the cool morning air hit your bare skin, sending a shiver down your spine. the ache in your thighs and the marks on your body only deepened your shame. your clothes were strewn across the floor, a chaotic mess of discarded fabric. you crouched down, gathering them quickly, trying to piece together some semblance of dignity.

the large mirror across the room caught your reflection, and you froze. you looked disheveled. vulnerable. raw. your hair was a mess, your makeup smeared, and your skin bore the evidence of his touch—purple bruises on your neck and thighs, faint scratches on your arms. it was as if your body had betrayed you, telling the story of your night with him in ways you wished it wouldn’t.

as you slipped your panties back on and reached for your bra, the voice you dreaded most cut through the silence like a knife. “going somewhere?” you froze, your heart plummeting into your stomach. of course, he was awake. of course, fate wouldn’t let you escape unnoticed.

you didn’t turn to look at him, didn’t dare meet his gaze. instead, you focused on pulling your bra straps into place, forcing yourself to appear unaffected. “clearly,” you deadpanned, hoping the sharpness in your tone would mask the turmoil inside you. he shifted, the sound of the sheets rustling making you painfully aware of his presence. you could feel his eyes on you, heavy and intent, as if he was committing every inch of you to memory.

“seem to be in a big rush,” he murmured, his voice laced with amusement. “try not to miss me too much.” you scoffed, finally pulling your top over your head. the fabric felt like armor, shielding you from his piercing gaze, though you could still feel it. “bite me,” you snapped, turning to face him.

the smirk that spread across his face was slow and deliberate, like he was savoring every second of your reaction. “well,” he drawled, his eyes flicking down to your legs, “if your legs are any indication, i think i already have.” confused, you glanced down, and your breath caught in your throat. bruises. his marks. scattered along your inner thighs like some twisted declaration of possession. heat flooded your cheeks, a mix of anger and humiliation that made your head spin.

when you looked back up, his gaze was unwavering, his fingers reaching out to brush against the bruised skin. the touch was light, almost reverent, but it sent a jolt through you nonetheless. “tell me this was a mistake,” he said, his voice soft and smooth, yet commanding. you opened your mouth, ready to deliver the cutting remark he deserved, but the words wouldn’t come. his eyes held you captive, dark and searching, and the goosebumps that rose on your skin betrayed you.

“it was a mistake,” you managed to say, your voice trembling despite your best efforts. jungkook tilted his head, his expression unreadable as his fingers continued to trace lazy circles on your thigh. “then why don’t you sound like you mean it?”

you stepped back, breaking his touch and the spell he seemed to have cast over you. “believe it or not, but i do,” you said, though the words felt hollow. he didn’t respond, just watched you with that same infuriating smirk as you grabbed the rest of your things and fled the room.

the party roared to life in a way that only taehyung could pull off. the island, once serene and peaceful, had transformed into a haven for decadence. fireworks lit up the night sky in an endless symphony of colors, their reflections shimmering on the dark water. music thundered from colossal speakers strategically placed along the beach, the bass so heavy it vibrated through the sand. people danced with wild abandon, their bodies swaying and colliding under the flickering light of bonfires scattered across the shore. drinks flowed, laughter echoed in the air, and the atmosphere was thick with an intoxicating mix of salt and cheap beer.

you weaved your way through the throng of people, the cacophony of sound and light almost overwhelming. the drink in your hand had long since lost its appeal, but you clung to it as a distraction, something to occupy your trembling fingers. your mind buzzed with unease, your nerves stretched thin under the weight of one singular thought: avoid jungkook at all costs. you couldn’t bear the thought of another confrontation, another one of his sharp words cutting into you like glass.

stumbling slightly, you glanced around for a quieter corner, somewhere you could breathe. your head was spinning, whether from the alcohol or the oppressive tension of the night, you weren’t sure. just as you thought you’d found a moment of peace, a pair of hands suddenly covered your eyes from behind. panic seized you, your breath catching in your throat as your heart raced.

you spun around, ready to lash out, only to be met with taehyung’s familiar, mischievous grin. his golden skin glowed under the light of the bonfires, and his dark hair fell messily across his forehead, damp from the humidity. “ants up your ass?” he teased, his voice lilting with amusement. “jesus, dude,” you muttered, letting out a shaky laugh as you tried to steady your pounding heart. “don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“relax,” he said, throwing a casual arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. “you’re too tense. come on, i’ve got just the thing to fix that.” before you could protest, he guided you down the beach, the noise of the crowd fading slightly as you moved further from the epicenter of the party. he stopped beside a cooler buried halfway in the sand, crouching down to rummage through it. with a triumphant smile, he pulled out a mai tai, holding it out like it was a prize.

“see how i remembered your favorite?” he said, his grin widening. “i should get some credit for that.” you couldn’t help but laugh, accepting the drink from him. “you get all the credit, tae,” you said, cracking open the can and taking a sip. the sweet, citrusy flavor was refreshing, and for a moment, you felt a bit of the tension leave your shoulders.

the two of you settled by one of the smaller bonfires, the warmth of the flames chasing away the chill of the ocean breeze. you leaned your head on his shoulder, the comfort of his presence grounding you in a way few things could. “i have to admit something,” he murmured after a moment, his voice low and conspiratorial. he reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, his fingers light against your skin.

“what is it?” you asked, matching his tone. “i’m so fucked right now,” he whispered, his words slurring slightly as he dissolved into laughter. you couldn’t help it—you laughed, too, the sound bubbling up uncontrollably as the ridiculousness of the moment hit you. for the first time that night, you felt like you could breathe. but the moment shattered like glass as a voice cut through the laughter, sharp and cold.

“what’s so funny?” the entire beach seemed to freeze. the music, the laughter, even the waves crashing against the shore all faded into the background as you looked up. jungkook stood a few feet away, his dark eyes locked on you and taehyung, his expression thunderous.

taehyung was on his feet in an instant, his playful demeanor replaced by something sharper, more dangerous. “who the fuck invited you?” he snapped, his voice loud enough to draw the attention of a few nearby partygoers. jungkook’s gaze flicked to you, his lips curling into a smirk that sent a chill down your spine. “ask your girlfriend,” he said, his tone dripping with mockery. “she sure knows how to get around.”

the words hit like a slap, your cheeks flushing with equal parts anger and embarrassment. before you could react, taehyung lunged forward, his fist connecting with jungkook’s jaw with a sickening thud. “taehyung, stop!” you shouted, scrambling to your feet, but your voice was drowned out by the chaos.

jungkook retaliated immediately, his fist slamming into taehyung’s side with enough force to make him stumble. the two of them were a blur of motion, fists flying and curses ringing out as a small crowd began to gather. “knock it off!” jimin’s voice rang out as he pushed his way through the crowd, grabbing taehyung and pulling him back.

you darted forward, grabbing jungkook’s arm and tugging him away with all the strength you could muster. “let’s go,” you hissed, dragging him toward the parking lot. “shit,” he muttered, wiping at his nose. blood smeared across his hand, and he winced. “think he broke my fucking nose.”

“oh, please,” you snapped, your voice shaking with anger. “like you weren’t begging for it.” you stopped beside his car, spinning around to face him. “what the fuck is your problem?” you demanded, your voice rising. for a moment, he said nothing, his dark eyes searching yours. the silence stretched, the weight of it pressing down on you like a vice.

“you’re such a dick,” you continued, your frustration spilling over. “always starting shit, always—” before you could finish, jungkook slammed his hands against the car, the sound reverberating through the night. one of his fists hit the rearview mirror, knocking it loose. “you’re my problem,” he snapped, his voice low and dangerous.

his hands grabbed your shoulders, pinning you against the car. his face was inches from yours, his breath hot against your skin as his eyes burned into yours. “you’ve been my problem since the night we met,” he growled. “since you walked onto my property that night, flashing your shit like sharon stone.”

fear twisted in your gut, but you refused to let it show. “go to hell, you fucking asshole,” you spat, your voice trembling. “i’d take those two minutes of getting fucked by you back if i could.” to your surprise, he laughed—a dark, humorless sound that sent a shiver down your spine. he stepped back for a moment, pacing like a caged animal before slamming his hand against the car next to your head.

“some fucking nerve you have,” he said, his voice a venomous whisper. “feeling that dipshit up right in front of me.”

“what's it to you, asshole?” you snapped, shoving against his chest with all your might. his hands caught yours, pinning them above your head with one hand as his other cupped your jaw. “did he fuck you yet?” he asked, his tone sharp and cruel. “does he know who popped your cherry?”

the words hit like a punch to the gut, but you refused to let him see how much they hurt. “get lost,” you bit out, your voice shaking with rage. “maybe that slut from your golf tournament'll help you find your way back.” a bitter laugh escaped his lips as he leaned in closer. “you can’t be serious,” he murmured, his lips grazing your ear.

“why not?” you bit out. “she’s easier to get into than community college, why the fuck not?” before you could say another word, his lips crashed against yours, silencing your tirade. you tried to resist, your hands pushing against him, but his grip was unyielding. slowly, against your better judgment, you gave in.

when he pulled back, his breathing was heavy, his forehead resting against yours. “she’s my friend’s girlfriend, for fuck’s sake,” he muttered. for a second, you almost felt like an idiot, but you couldn’t let yourself feel like one. why should you? “you’re the one who wanted something casual,” you shot back, your voice barely above a whisper.

for a moment, he said nothing, the tension between you thick and suffocating. it was all because he knew you had the upper hand. then, without a word, he kissed you again. this time, you didn’t resist. you let the anger, the frustration, and the twisted desire take over, surrendering to the fire that had been burning between you all along.

his lips moved with a bruising intensity, claiming yours with a ferocity that made your knees weak. the tension between you crackled like lightning, the weight of his jealousy and your own suppressed emotions combusting into a heated clash. his grip on your wrists didn’t loosen, pinning you against the cool metal of the car as his body pressed flush against yours. his tongue swept across your lower lip, demanding entry, and when you opened up to him, the kiss deepened into something raw and consuming.

when he finally pulled back, his lips swollen and glistening, his dark eyes bored into yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. his hand slid down from your jaw to your neck, his thumb brushing lightly against the sensitive skin as his lips ghosted over your jawline. “you think that asshole could ever make you feel this way?” he muttered against your skin, his voice low and rough, dripping with jealousy.

you opened your mouth to respond, but the words died in your throat when his lips found the curve of your neck. he kissed his way down slowly, deliberately, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to leave you trembling. you gasped when he nipped at a particularly sensitive spot, one he knew like the back of his hand, your body arching into his as your hands twisted in his shirt, desperate for an anchor.

“answer me,” he murmured, his voice vibrating against your neck. his tongue flicked over the spot he’d just bitten, soothing the sting with an intimacy that sent a rush of heat straight to your core.

“jungkook—” you breathed, barely able to form coherent words. “that’s not an answer,” he growled, his hands releasing your wrists only to find their way to your hips. his fingers dug into your flesh possessively as he pulled you closer, his thigh slipping between yours in a way that left no space between your bodies.

your head fell back against the car as he continued his assault on your neck, his lips and teeth working in tandem to leave marks that you knew would be there for days. his jealousy was palpable, woven into every kiss, every touch, every deliberate pause as he refused to give you the release you so desperately craved. “taehyung couldn’t do this to you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your collarbone now, his voice a sinful whisper. “he couldn’t make you feel like this, could he?”

“stop,” you gasped, though your hands betrayed you as they slid up his chest, curling into his shirt and pulling him closer.

“stop lying to yourself,” he shot back, his hands sliding over the fabric of your bikini, his palms warm against your bare skin as he palmed at the flesh of your tits. his thumbs traced slow, deliberate circles down your sides as he kissed his way back up to your jawline, his lips brushing yours but never quite closing the distance. you whimpered, the sound torn from your throat as his teeth grazed your ear. “say it,” he demanded, his voice rough and commanding. “say he could never touch you like this.”

your lips trembled, torn between pride and the undeniable truth that jungkook had you under his spell, as he always had. but he didn’t wait for your answer. instead, his lips finally descended on yours again, and this time, the kiss was slower, deeper, his tongue exploring your mouth like he was memorizing every inch of you. his hands roamed greedily, one slipping under the hem of your shirt while the other gripped your thigh, pulling it up to wrap around his waist. the position left you completely at his mercy, your body pinned against the car with no escape from the heat radiating off him.

“admit it,” he murmured against your lips, his voice sending shivers down your spine. his hand slid higher, his fingers teasing the edge of your bra as his lips moved to your neck again, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to make you gasp. “admit i’m the only one whos ever gonna make you feel this way.”

you hated how right he was, how your body responded to his every touch, every word, every possessive look. your hands fisted in his hair, pulling him closer as your resolve shattered completely. “only you, kook,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your own racing heartbeat. “no one else, i promise.”

the heat between the two of you was suffocating, consuming, as his lips captured yours in a fervent kiss while his hands fumbled to open the back door of his car. he groaned into your mouth as the door clicked open, his lips never leaving yours as he maneuvered the two of you into the backseat. the kiss was messy, all teeth and tongue, a clash of frustration, jealousy, and raw desire that made your head spin.

your knees straddled his hips as you hovered over him, your breathing erratic as his hands roamed your body. his fingers slid up your sides, brushing over the thin strings of your bikini top, and he pulled back just enough to look at you. his dark eyes were heavy with lust as they trailed down your body, lingering on the way your bikini struggled to contain you. “fuck,” he groaned, his voice thick and dripping with approval. “bikini’s too small for you, doll.”

your cheeks burned under his gaze, but before you could respond, his hands tugged at the ties of your top, and his head dipped down, burying itself between your tits as they dropped out. his lips were hot against your skin, kissing and sucking with an unrelenting hunger that left you breathless.

“got the best rack on the island, don’t you?” he muttered against your skin, his voice muffled but no less vulgar. the words sent a jolt of heat straight through you, equal parts demeaning and intoxicating, because it was him—raw, unfiltered, and unapologetically possessive. “stop,” you gasped, your hands threading into his hair, pulling him closer even as you protested. “anyone could walk by and see us.”

he didn’t even pause, too busy sucking a mark into the soft flesh of your chest. “let ’em see,” he grunted, his teeth grazing the swell of your breast before his tongue followed, soothing the sting. “wan’em to see who gets to fuck you stupid.” your breath hitched as his lips traced the faint tan lines left behind by your swimsuit, his warm tongue licking over them with a softness that contrasted the possessive grip of his hands on your hips.

with a smirk that could only be described as pure evil, he slapped your left tit, the sound echoing in the car. your eyes went wide with shock and arousal, your mouth dropping open on a silent cry.

his grip tightened around your hips as he slapped the right one, the sting spreading like wildfire across your chest, leaving you trembling. “shit, you like that, don’t you?” he whispered, his voice thick with lust. “you like when i show you who’s in charge?” you nodded frantically, unable to form words, your eyes glazed over with desire. jungkook chuckled, the sound dark and sinful, as he continued his assault, slapping each boob in turn, watching as your nipples grew harder with every impact.

you watched as he hoisted one of your legs up and, to your astonishment, pressed his pelvis against the bare flesh of your thigh. at first, you almost didn’t get it, until you felt it. through his khaki shorts, rock hard and throbbing. “you feel how hard you make me, doll?” you felt it, of course you did, but just in case you didn’t, he made sure to guide your hand over his clothed dick. you allowed yourself to feel him up, to relish in the sight of him throwing his head back in bliss as you stroked his thick, solid cock as best as you could through his shorts.

his eyes rolled back in his head, a silent groan escaping his lips, and that was all the encouragement you needed. you leaned back, pressing the weight of your palm against his cock, and whispered, “fuck me, jungkook. please, need it so badly.” the words were like a spell, and he was the one under it. his eyes snapped to yours, filled with something akin to desperation. without another word, he yanked down the waistband of his shorts, freeing his cock with an urgency that made your mouth water. it was big, bigger than you remembered, and it was all for you.

his hand was on the back of your neck, pushing down as he guided his cock to your mouth, and you opened for him, eager to taste him, to have him fill you in every way possible. the tip of his dick was wet with pre-cum, and you licked at it like it was a summer treat. his hips bucked up, and he cursed under his breath. “finally putting that mouth to good use,” he murmured, his hand tightening slightly as he pushed further into your mouth. you took as much of him as you could, feeling his girth stretch your lips wide, and the sound he made was all the reward you needed.

his other hand slid down your stomach and hooked into the string of your bikini bottoms, tugging them aside to expose your drenched pussy. his thumb brushed against your clit, and you moaned around his cock. “got your panties all wet, baby,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours as he began to pump into your mouth with a steady rhythm. you felt yourself getting wetter with every stroke, his roughness only adding to the thrill. the anticipation of what was to come was almost too much to handle.

his hand moved from your neck to the base of his cock, and he began to fuck your mouth in earnest, his eyes never leaving yours. the smell of your arousal filled the car, mixing with the salty scent of the sea breeze that filtered through the open windows. you could feel your orgasm building, but he knew it. he knew how close you were, and he wasn't about to let you cum that easily. “you're not getting off until i say so,” he warned, his thumb pressing harder against your clit, the promise of pleasure just out of reach.

his free hand slid down to your throat, his grip firm but not painful as he began to choke you. the air grew thinner, and your eyes watered, but you didn't fight it. instead, you leaned into the feeling, letting his dominance wash over you like a wave. the pressure built alongside your need for air and the pressure in your clit, creating a cocktail of sensations that made your head spin. he knew he was close, but he wasn’t going to dump his seed anywhere but inside you.

his thumb slid down, pressing hard against your clit, and you felt the orgasm start to build. your eyes widened, and you tried to moan around his cock, but the sound was muffled by his thick shaft. “just like that, fuck,” he grunted, his eyes dark with lust. “keep going, just a little bit more.”

his other hand left your neck to fist your hair, and he pulled you off his cock with a wet pop. your mouth was left gaping, and he smirked at the sight, his dick still hard and gleaming with your saliva. “need’a get a good look at you,” he murmured, his voice gruff with need. “should see how fucked you look, and ’m not even through with you.”

you whined, your knees hitting the sticky car floor with a thud as you positioned yourself over his hips. unfortunately, he was right. your lips were bruised, chin stained with spit, your make-up smeared, and your hair a mess. it only turned him on even more, his cock was now fully exposed, bobbing in front of your face, and he stroked it lazily as he watched you, the smugness in his gaze unmistakable. “you’re so fucking eager, aren’t you?” he said, his voice thick with satisfaction. “desperate to take all of me, to let me use you like the stupid bitch you are.”

his words only served to inflame the fire in your belly, and you nodded, your cheeks flushing with both embarrassment and arousal. “yeah,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “i’m your cocksleeve, nobody else’s.” his grip on your hair tightened, and he guided his cock back to your mouth. “prove it,” he demanded, pushing inside you until you gagged. your eyes watered as you struggled to accommodate him, but you didn’t pull away. instead, you took a deep breath and took him even deeper, feeling his cock hit the back of your throat.

his hand moved to your chin, and he slapped your pussy again, the sound echoing in the car. “you love this, don’t you?” he said, his voice a low growl. “love this first class slut specialty, huh?” you couldn't speak, but you nodded, your eyes pleading for him to keep going. he slapped you again, and again, the sting turning to pleasure, making your clit throb with each impact. the sound of your own wetness filled the air as he chuckled darkly, his grip on your hair never loosening.

his free hand slid down to your pussy, his fingers sliding through your juices before pushing inside you, curling up to hit your g-spot. you moaned, the feeling of being filled both in your mouth and in your cunt too much to bear, and you felt your orgasm start to crest. just as you were about to cum, he pulled out of your mouth, his hand moving from your neck to cover your mouth and nose. “not yet,” he whispered, his eyes never leaving yours. “not until i say you can.”

his thumb found your clit again, and he began to rub it in firm circles, the pressure building until you thought you would scream. “please, fuck, please,” you whined, your hips bucking against his hand. “please let me cum, need it so bad.”

his grin was feral as he leaned back against the car seat, watching you squirm. “who’s the one in charge here?” he asked, his voice a taunt. “who gets to decide when you get to come?”

you bit your lip, your eyes pleading with him as you nodded, the words leaving you in a rush. “you do,” you panted. “you do, jungkook.” his hand stilled, and he leaned in to whisper in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “good girl, using your brain for once,” he cooed, his voice a sweet caress that belied the darkness in his words. “now, you can cum for me.”

his hand on your clit began to move again, faster this time, and you couldn't hold back the scream that tore from your throat. your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave, making your body convulse as you came, hard and fast, your pussy clenching around his fingers. just as you thought it was over, you felt his thick fingers wrap around your thighs, turning you over as he positioned himself against your cunt from behind.

“jungkook, please, ’s too much,” you cried out, still coming down from your first orgasm as tears filled your eyes, but he had no intention to listen. you knew it the second you felt his fat, thick tip probing at your cunt, your back arching as his hands pulled at the flesh of your ass. he taunted you a bit, determined to hurt you as much as he could, pushing his tip in ever so slightly, before pulling right back out.

you felt like sobbing, the feeling all to much for you as you held onto the car door for dear life. “beg me,” he murmured, even if he needed to resist his own urges. “beg me to split this pussy open, baby, use your words.”

you didn’t want to, but the desperation in your voice was clear as you whimpered, “please, jungkook, fuck me. please, i need it so badly."

his hand tightened on your throat, and he thrust into you with no warning, filling you in one brutal stroke. you screamed out, the pain mixing with pleasure as he claimed you, your walls stretching to accommodate his size. “fuck, still as tight as you were when i popped your cherry,” he groaned, his hips pumping into you, his grip on your throat tightening just enough to make everything feel sharper. “this is what you want, isn’t it?”

you nodded frantically, the pressure on your neck making it difficult to speak. “yes,” you choked out, your voice barely above a whisper. “yes, fuck, it’s what i need.”

his thrusts grew more erratic, his breath coming in harsh pants as he fucked you against the car door. “ass bouncing ’gainst my fuckin’ balls,” he groaned, his voice strained as he delivered a harsh smack to the flesh of your ass. how you loved knowing he'd leave more than enough marks for everyone to see. “so fucking tight. i love how you grip me.”

you felt his hand slide down to your clit, his fingers moving in a way that had you seeing stars. “you're gonna cum for me again,” he said, his voice a command. “gonna cum while i'm filling your tight little pussy up, okay?” you nodded again, unable to form words, your eyes squeezed shut as he worked your body like a fiddle, playing you into a symphony of pleasure and pain. your moans grew louder, and you could feel the second orgasm building, a storm in your belly that threatened to consume you.

his hand on your neck loosened slightly, but before you could catch your breath, his mouth was on yours again, swallowing your cries as his cock pounded into you. every thrust seemed like borderline abuse, the tip of his cock slamming against your cervix with every move. he was so big, so fucking big, filling you up, making a mold of his cock with your insides. his thumb circled your clit faster, and you felt the wave of pleasure crest again, your body shuddering as you came a second time. your walls clamped down on his cock, and he groaned against your skin, his own climax following closely behind.

his orgasm was like nothing you had ever felt before, his hot cum filling you up as he held you down, his cock pulsing deep inside you. “fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted, his body shaking with the force of it. “so good, baby, so good.”

finally, he pulled out of you, his cum dripping down your thighs as you slumped against the car door, boneless and utterly spent. jungkook smirked as he looked down at the mess he had made of you, his cock still half hard, glistening with your juices. “see?” he said, his voice smug. “no one else can do that to you.”

⋆. 𐙚 ˚

a/n: i have a few things to talk about all of them very important obviously.

1. loossemble disbanding is crazy work!

2. i feel like we as a society failed to appreciate the cinematic masterpiece that is malcolm in the middle.

3. i had a wet dream abt revenge of the sith anakin last night.

4. i am the only person who watched the oc ever and if u watched it i watched it better than u.

5. i know u got a fat ASS 💜 u know i love a fat ASS 💜

6. In Korea, you can't eat until the elders eat. Ningning is the maknae, which means she's the youngest, and the fact that she ate first is crazy. I'm not trying to be – I'm not trying to be messy, I promise you. I'm just saying, that's crazy.

[brucewaynehater101]

AU - Ra's al Ghul being a grandfather to all of the Wayne kids

During their ongoing petty battles, Tim makes the mistake of calling Ra's "grandpa" as an insult. He meant it as a term to call the man old.

Ra's did not take it this way.

After being called "grandpa" by his rival/desired heir (pt. 3), he starts to wonder if all of Bruce's kids consider him to be their grandfather (they do not).

Cue Ra's al Ghul picking up grandparent guidebooks and trying to implement the advice. Because he's so out of touch with reality and society (he's a 600 year old assassin cult leader), he doesn't implement them correctly.

His go to method for hangouts with any of the Wayne kids is kidnapping. They don't know he's just trying to spend time with them. There's a ton of miscommunication.

Ra's quickly learns that if he has grandfather-grandchild time with Damian by himself, the Waynes.... overreact (they're not overreacting. They think Ra's is kidnapping Damian for some nefarious plot). Ra's then starts kidnapping Damian with one of his siblings for group hangouts.

He also will have grandfather-grandchildren days when Talia visits Bruce. He wants them to be able to spend time without the kids interrupting (even if the kids are in another country from Bruce, Ra's still kidnap them. Talia is also going to Bruce to beat him up for Damian instead of a date. Ra's thinks it's just their relationship dynamic).

The old man also spends a lot of time debating what makes someone a Wayne kid. Bruce's adoption habit makes this needlessly more difficult. He eventually lands on only considering those Damian claims as his siblings as his grandchildren.

It gets to the point that Ra's al Ghul even starts lecturing Bruce when he's being an ass to the grandkids.

How Ra's spoils his grandkids:

Damian - Ra's sets up a bunch of animal sanctuaries around the world. He takes the kid to all of them and seriously implements all of his ideas. He also sends him expensive, rare art supplies that can double as weapons (Damian thought the paints doubling as poison were fun to use).

Jason - The Outlaws get access to a bunch of weapons and gear. He also occasionally provides assistance or information.

Tim - Ra's doesn't do anything different. They already "hang out" a ton when Tim is in a petty and vindictive mood (Tim tries to fuck up Ra's day and the ancient bastard sees it as a bonding activity).

Cass - Ra's, after seeing that Cass sometimes experiences issues communicating with civilians, starts funding organizations that increase accessibility. He also attends every single recital she has.

Duke - Ra's provides access to his research material so that Duke might be able to find a way to help his parents. He also buys him really expensive glasses and blackout curtains to help with his migraines

Steph - The old man will gift wrap people who were shitty to Steph so that she can beat them up or get revenge. Her many hobbies (gaming, gymnastics, music, etc.) get funded as well.

Dick - Ra's either kidnaps Dick with a sibling he hasn't seen for a bit (allowing Dick to have quality time), or he'll enforce self care days for the acrobat.

Barbara - She is helped by the same organizations that help Cass, but Ra's usually just provides her with information the Birds of Prey can use.

[deathbxnny]

Alhaitham & Dottore with reader that’s like Ruan Mei

- (●’◡’●)ﾉ

I actually really loved thinking of this dynamic, so thank you for your request, Anon, and I hope you'll enjoy this!!<3

Content: Reader is morally grey and questionable?, established relationship, Dottore is his own warning, mentions of unethical science experiments, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not proofread))

》ALHAITHAM

When he met you, you two immideatly hit it off due to your extremely similar personalities. On the surface, at least. You were both very focused and work driven, as you rarely allow yourself to be distracted from anything. Your equal disinterest in socializing of any kind made you bond as well, as you simply avoided large gatherings or get togethers to spend time with eachother instead. A change that came as a surprise to the both of you.

You enjoy spending your free time simply reading or going over work notes in the others' presence, preferably in silence. Oftentimes, you can also lose yourselves in deep and profound conversations about life and philosophy. He loves how intelligent you are, as it pairs well with his own well-read mind too.

With that said, your main difference definitely lies in your moral ethics regarding projects and your experiments in general. Even if he may be quite emotionless visibly, Alhaitham still believes that your creations deserve proper care and therefore forces you to contemplate your own actions in many self-reflections. Not that you mind. If anything, you found this to be even more helpful to your research.

You two definitely match eachother well and make up for the other persons faults, which always works out perfectly in the end.

》DOTTORE

This man loves the more unsettling side to you more than you'll ever know. You are emotionless naturally and have always felt a certain discomfort at the lack of care for anything or anyone at that in your life. And yet, he finds absolute enjoyment in it. In fact, he enables you to do better, to work harder, to create and research more. He wants you to become the best version of yourself, or whatever he thinks that version may be.

He'll help fund any research or experiment you want to conduct in any form possible. Whether through money or unwilling subjects, as long as you give him front row seats to you working away, he'll be there for it all. His clones are also always at your disposal if you need them. He'll also understand your disinterest for your creations, seeing them as useless himself if they don't serve the purpose you created them for.

You two, however, also have much more calmer and normal moments with eachother, something you actually taught him. You'll drink tea or listen to calming music whilst discussing your latest research with one another rather often. It gives you both the downtime needed to refocus on work later once it's time to get back to the labs.

Your relationship may be unhinged to most, but that doesn't matter to the both of you in the slightest, as long as you're together.

[formulas-bitch]

streamer Lando Norris x artist/reader

In a world where streaming had become the new norm, Lando Norris found himself in an unlikely partnership with a female streamer. Their names were as different as their personalities; he, a young, charismatic racer with a penchant for speed and risk-taking; she, an enigmatic artist with a flair for storytelling and an uncanny ability to connect with her audience. Their partnership was not born out of convenience or necessity, but rather, a strange and inexplicable twist of fate.

As they streamed together, their chemistry was undeniable. Lando would bring the thrill of the race to the screen, his fingers dancing across the controller as he maneuvered his way through virtual tracks at breakneck speeds. His laughter and cheers echoed through the studio, filling the air with an infectious energy that seemed to lift the spirits of everyone around him. On the other hand, the female streamer would take the reins when it came to interacting with their audience, engaging in witty banter and sharing intimate details about her life as an artist.

Their fans, known as the "Lando's Angels" and the "Artiste's Aficionados," were equally devoted. They would tune in religiously to witness the dynamic duo's antics, often spending hours in their streams, cheering them on and leaving generous donations. The streamer pair's popularity only grew with time, transcending the boundaries of gaming and art. They became cultural icons, their influence spreading far and wide.

Lando and the female streamer continued to push each other to greater heights, experimenting with new games, art forms, and storytelling techniques. They embarked on charity streams, using their platform to raise awareness and funds for various causes close to their hearts. Their partnership was not without its share of challenges, of course. They had their fair share of arguments and disagreements, but they always managed to find common ground and work through their differences.

As their fame grew, so did the pressure. Lando found himself constantly in the spotlight, his every move scrutinized by fans and critics alike. He struggled with maintaining a private life and the constant need to be "on" for his audience. The female streamer, on the other hand, dealt with her own set of challenges as she navigated the often-misogynistic landscape of the streaming world. Despite these obstacles, they remained a beacon of positivity and resilience, inspiring countless others to chase their dreams and find their own unique voices in the world of streaming and art.

Their partnership eventually evolved into something more than just a professional arrangement. As they spent more time together, traveling the world for gaming and art conventions, attending exclusive events, and collaborating on creative projects, a deep bond began to form between them. Lando found himself falling for the enigmatic artist, her wit, charm, and unyielding strength winning him over. She, in turn, found herself drawn to his vulnerability, his willingness to open up and share his fears and insecurities with her. Their relationship was not without its fair share of challenges, but they faced them together, their love for each other serving as a guiding light.

As their personal lives intertwined, so did their professional lives. They launched their own production company, hiring a team of talented streamers and artists to join them in their quest to create something truly special. Together, they pushed the boundaries of what was possible in the world of streaming and art, exploring new genres, mediums, and storytelling techniques. Their streams became less about the games they played or the art they created and more about the stories they told, the lives they shared, and the connections they forged with their audience.

[deleteddewewted]

Modern 40k Ideas:

I have an idea for the greater Modern 40k universe I’m making. These are meant to be canon ideas for the supermarket romance fic series mainly cause I plan on making some spinoffs or extra fics for the series with other characters.

All of the Emperors sons, the Primarchs, were made because Big E was once a broke college student trying to make ends meet so he donated sperm. He would go to a sperm bank every so often and make a quick buck donating. So not only did a bunch of families get the ability to have children but it would explain why the Primarchs are all so ethnically and culturally diverse.

The only reason why the Primarchs are all united in adulthood was because when Big E was donating he said he was fine with the kids that were a product of his donations could reach out to him for whatever reason since he knew that they might have questions down the line about their health history.

Most of the Primarchs met when they were in their teens since many of them lived in very different parts of the world. Horus who lived in the same city as Big E got to meet his biological father much sooner than the rest of his brothers.

Relationships and dynamics are all pretty much the same since they all got to connect when they were young and kept in contact up until the events of current modern au timeline.

Horus is not currently in the picture as he’s serving a 4 years prison sentence for wire fraud. Big E could have sued him and gotten his son life in prison since wire fraud wasn’t the only thing Horus did but he felt betrayed and saddened that his closest son would betray him that he didn’t open his mouth at all when the authorities questioned him to ask if he knew anything else about his sons business.

Rogal Dorn and Perturabo both lead the graphics team but they don’t lead the marketing department. Neither one of them know how to run a social media account and Guillimans even worse so they had them lead a subsection of the department that focused only in the appearance of promotional material, email marketing, flyers, and ads.

Guilliman pursued business and ventured into his own small business while still working for Big E. Big E takes this as a betrayal because he feels like Guilliman had taken all of the resources he had given him and miss used them for his personal gain. He hadn’t, Guilliman wanted to make his own company that had nothing to do with the company his father runs. Guillimans business is actually a nonprofit with a focus on helping ex veterans.

Big E is in a bit of a hiatus from work. Not really. He’s still around doing things here and there but overall he stays out of it because he was planning on passing the business to his sons anyways.

Big E hadn’t planned on having his sons join him in his business but everything just aligned perfectly that it made sense for him to include them. He secretly does adore his children. He never planned on having any of his own, mainly because he didn’t find the point in it but now that his sons are with him he’s more than eager to make sure that they learn how to bond with one another.

Horus Heresy was just a big family argument that led to Horus being arrested but the rest of his brothers who took his side ended up serving a very reduced prison time or just community service.

The entire company focuses on humanitarian efforts across the world. So funding for medical access in impoverished communities, access to clean water, food assistance, education, etc. This all came about because Big E grew up in poverty and worked his ass off to get out of that situation. Having had the foresight to understand that not everyone has the same access as he did or the same chances as he did, he made it his mission to help as many people as possible.

[daemon-in-my-head]

Durgetash Creator Asks - kinda personal tho

Your hottest Durgetash take. The kinda heat Gortash had to endure in HoH. (But be respectful about it fellas, this means everyone)

Romance, queerplatonic, eldritch horror? How would you describe the relationship these two have? This time without limitation.

Your favourite quirk about each of them. Whatever that may be. Durges vivisections and Gortash's fun experiments for the whole family? Something else?

Which one of them is the morally worse person? Your Durge or Gortash? Who's really just a sadistic little fuck and did they make the other one 'hol up' before?

If, by some twist of fate, you'd be stuck in a room with these two, what would you do? What would they do? Would anybody leave that room unhurt? Oh, both know you're responsible for creating Durge the way they are btw.

What's the most wholesome hc you have for them? Something they did, a particular approach at bonding, just them being disgustingly soft once? Some good old hand in hand vivisection?

Would Orins premature death have impacted them and their dynamic? How? Why? Why not?

How does each of them view death and dying? Does Gortash hold a similar approach to Durge or is Durges view on death a bit warped, to put it lightly?

Do they coordinate clothes? Yes, no and to what extent?

Realistically, if they got to have happily ever after after dominating the brain, who would be in charge of finances? Is it a shared venture, does Gortash handle all the money or is it Durge who knows best how to allocate funds?

Sceleritas my beloved, how exactly does he fit in there?

Which one of the other companions are the chosen of hell most likely to bond with in your opinion? What exactly would allow for that to happen?

What's your personal favourite flavour that you find yourself gravitating towards? Not necessarily what sort of stuff you publish or smth, but what you personally consume like a starving man in a desert and rotate in your brain? The kinky shit, the domestics, the gore and horror attached to them, star crossed lovers vibes?

Ask prev when u reblog, be nice, this isn't strictly romantic, bla bla bla yk what I usually put here. Basically, have fun, go wild, save a fading fandom or smth

[starrycassi]

Sky + Viktor dynamic in my jayvik work for silco au

PART 1 - TEEN YEARS. BREAK UP AND RECONCILIATION.

Since I'm kinda "switching around" Jayce and Viktor's roles, Sky and Viktor did "date" in this au

For all of like three months. Gruesomely longs three monts

They were both the only zaunites on the academy, so, naturally, they bonded. Viktor in this au is a bit more social, since Silco has drilled into him the importance of having people work for you/follow you

Viktor is very much a homosexual but Sky did NOT realize this and still confessed

She was obvious as fuck with her love previously and thought that Viktor never refusing was him accepting + enjoying her attention. Like this is an academic rivals + childhood friends + dark academia au in her head and she's going for her man

NOW, headcanon time: I think Sky had a patron on Piltover, the House Young (hence why she has a last name being from Zaun). SHE was the one funding their ideas and projects, SHE was the one with some (minimal) topside connections

Viktor went "yeah why not" to himself and dated her

Their relationship became turbulent Really Fucking Fast. Viktor wasn't truly interested in her romantically, though he did acknowledge + respect her intellectual intelligence. He saw in her a possible equal. She adored him and was blinded to his (MANY) flaws. So a bad mix overall.

There's also a really wide gap in their view of politics. Sky wants to assimilate into Piltover, to learn how to play their games and to be One Of Them. She's young and still holds her dreams close to her chest.

Viktor, while deep down would love that, is aware that his place is in Zaun, helping his (their!) people. He's well aware of the dangers of Silco, but he plans on eventually coming back to Zaun To Help Everyone, if Heimerdinger manages to keep him safely away from all that mess and just... lets him study

He thought her selfish and delusional, while she was blinded by his "selflessness". Sky claimed to be The One who understood Viktor, but she was just seeing a very carefully filtered aspect of his personality. When he cracked under the pressure, she brushed it off as "stress attacks" and not his real attitude coming to the surface, which is what that was

Mind u, Viktor's stay in the academy was no longer than a full semester, since his charade was up as soon as exam season ended, so this was a quickly burning dumpster fire

Sky started trying to convince him to leave silco. He already wanted to, but having someone who very clearly adored him cheering him up helped a lot. She was the final push he needed to talk to heimerdinger

(that went horribly bad lol. Viktor's hate for Piltover is cemented and he returns to Silco's side like a wounded puppy. He becomes crueler towards his own ideals after this)

He eventually comes back to her room in the middle of the night like the boundary-ignoring weirdo Singed raised him to be, and asks her to come with him

Sky is distressed, but asks HIM to stay with HER

They argue in whispered screams, still somewhat civil. It's in the middle of it that Sky accidentally knocks over the badge the House Young gave her, revealing her name change when pressured by Viktor

And the whole thing comes falling down

Viktor tells her that she's sold her own soul to monsters, Sky hits backs and calls him out for doing virtually the same and that Silco is not that different from her employers. He's worse, if anything

Viktor doesn't care about silco but does care about winning fights, so he defends silco. The whole thing ends up with Viktor telling her that he's never loved her, and Sky telling him that she wishes she never did

Mind you they're like 17/18. Things get ugly.

One or two years down the line, Sky is the one who actually reaches out. She goes back down to the under city to search for Viktor. He's actually so fucking happy to see her, but pretends not to be.

Sky's been on the verge of breaking down for almost a month now (finals) and she realized that Pilties will, actually, never treat her as one of them. She ran for the only other person she knew would understand, even if he didn't want to admit it

They get DRUNK. Like, falling-face-first drunk. They actually have an honest moment with one another and talk things out. Sky asks Viktor if he has any "dick recs" now that she's single and they snort so badly they almost choke. There's a lot of tears (Viktor swears He Did Not Cry) over the words they tell each other. Viktor still stands in that Sky is stupid and naive and Sky calls him a self-righteous antisocial idiot.

Viktor has virtually no friends his age, neither does sky. They latch onto one another after this, meeting every so often. Viktor helps Sky with her workload from The Academy and Sky works on Viktor's notes. They stop asking what the work will be used for after Sky breaks down crying at the idea of helping her own people be poisoned by a highly addictive drug.

Sky starts absorbing Viktor's cynical worldview. She's still bubbly and kind and clumsy but she's far more clever on her feet and aggressive when she needs to be. Not saying she was incapable or soft before!! She just becomes sharper and a bit more open to corruption.

PART 2 - MOLE AND MATCHMAKER.

Sky becomes Heimerdinger's assistant, instead of Viktor. Don't fight me on this. She's clearly very smart and being aided by Viktor in this au, plus, she's energetic enough that I feel Heimer would actually really enjoy her company! She's not nearly as ambitious as Viktor and just wants a nice life without too much worries, so she's actually pretty happy with her work.

She knows and loves Jayce. Her favorite man in Piltover actually. He's always fair and nice to her, even with her being "gutter scum". They've sit down together in the lunch hall a couple times when they both have a late lunch and he's been nothing but a gentleman (if a bit annoying, but, oh well) to her every single time. He's not perfect but he treats her like everyone else and that's such a relief. When she goes to collect his shit, she's actually like really apologetic. They both kinda cry.

She's still in constant contact with Viktor (refuses to call him Herald (keeps him humble actually)) and they have grown into a solid pair of absolute best friends. Like yes Viktor's real close to sevika but it's more of an older sister thing. He's sharing girth size, tip color and filling flavor of his encounters with sky and she's sharing back. They do each other's nails and binge calculus books every other month.

When he decides to save Jayce and reaches out to her, she's 100% on board. He isn't even done with the idea and she's pulling her keys out. The alibi is that he stole them from her and they lock her in a closet with a few (consensual) punches to the face so they can bruise at the end of it all.

She's a big part of the plan. The layout, the schedule, everything comes down to her knowledge of the academy. Viktor oats himself on the back for his ability to keep his allies (none. She did that herself) for so long.

After all of this, they grow somewhat distant for a while. Viktor has his hands full with two depressed geniuses and one of them is His Actual Responsibility. Jinx doesn't let him sleep properly okay he can hear her screams on his nightmares lately. Sky is coddled for half The Academy, hailed as "one of the good ones" and generally more vigilance if put on her. She's well aware of Jayce being alive but makes sure to put up a grieving act for him, which everyone understands.

PART 3 - GENERAL AFTERWORDS

Sky is their one connection to The Academy in general. Both Jayce and Viktor understand this very clearly and don't want to risk her exposure any more than needed. Cutting her off would leave them like headless chicken when it comes to Piltover inner politics

She's somewhat present in their lives. After the whole mess she gets "rewarded" by her "loyalty" and gets more work + materials, so she's really busy. They're also trying to run a criminal empire + betray the boss of that criminal empire. Time is sparse and letters cannot be trusted.

She plays therapist to both of them and has considered killing them just so they stop whining about Viktor Looked At Someone Else or Jayce Is Too Popular for a second

Viktor and her never actually agree on their worldview. Like NEVER. They can both see each other's points and both think the other kinda stupid. This is fine and normal for them and would like it no other way. They're constantly on the edge of fighting over their political views but understand that, in the end, neither will actually get what they want. Very cynical with one another when drunk.

Idk man I just hate that Sky is used as merely a plot device in canon. Like we know nothing about her aside from her actions/feeling towards/with Viktor. I think they could've done so much more with having another Zaunite in The Academy who seems happy with her work (or at least we never see her complain) and overall optimistic. She feels so... disposable, sometimes? She's smart, in love with Viktor and (we can assume) resilient, since she managed a spot in a clearly elitist institution, but, aside from that... ??? We're left with absolutely nothing

Also Wanting To Belong is so real. I'm not trying to bash Sky here because, I, once, too, thought that being shy and small and talking lowly would get them to like me. So don't be mean in the comments or I'm hitting you with a frying pan

[alexjcrowley]

I realised my passion for crossover has just created a multiverse of, I don't fucking know, detectives and supernatural stuff (no, it's NOT superwholock)

So we start by assuming, like some already did, that Q from the Daniel Craig's James Bond movies is the fourth Holmes's siblings. So you get four Holmes: Mycroft, Sherlock, Eurus and Q. But then Q in clearly in a romantic relationship with James Bond.

Now it's undeniable that James Bond has a twin brother, Benoit Blanc, who is the world's most famous detective, and he is married to Philip (Hugh Grant). You can clearly notice from Benoit's...everything (passion for mistery and fasion sense most of all) that he is related to Fred Jones from Scooby Doo, he and Philip are in fact Fred's parents.

To conclude this part of multiverse of hyperfixation, James Bond exists in the same world of a bunch of teenagers with 1970's van and a talking dog. I cannot stress how important it is for me that Sherlock Holmes DOES NOT solve the mustery of why Scooby Doo can talk.

But let's now expand in a different direction.

For some of you who might not be acquainted with the medical drama House MD, it's one of the gayest shows ever made on God's green earth. And, as all the fans know, the REAL finale is House and Wilson running away together after all Wilson's problems suddenly disappeared (I am phrasing it like that because I don't want to spoil it). Now, of course they can't live in America because House can't exactly recover from his own Reichenbach falls, so obviously they have go to London. Like, no questions asked.

And as many have already speculated they are probably the married couple Mrs Hudson's friend was renting an apartment to.

Sherlock-Watson and House-Wilson have a complicated dynamic going on, I just know they suspect of eachothers because there's something wrong with the other couple.

London comes, of course, with all it inhabitants, such as Crowley and Aziraphale (whose supernatural presence could explain Scooby Doo being able to talk???? Maybe he is an ex-infernal hound sent to Shaggy??? Was Shaggy another aborted attempt at an Antichrist?????). I really likes to believe they're House-Wilson and Sherlock-Watson neighbours. And every one of these three couples tries to pretend they're a very normal couple, and not, like, non-human or a Government's resource or technically dead.

But also, you must not forget, London comes with Hob Gadling, the immortal lover of Sandman, who might as well exist in this universe, because why the fuck not, he stole the "meet every x years" idea from Crowley, the goddamn poser. Hob Gadling and Crowley clocked eachothers in a minute and now the two couples have dinners together because "they're the only other supernatural couple in the neighbourhood, we should befriend them!" (said Aziraphale and Hob while Crowley and Morpheus sighed).

ALSO to House MD fans I want to remind you that Wilson got arrested in Louisiana when he met House and there's a popular headcanon going on that Benoit Blanc is from Louisiana so do you think??? Benoit Blanc one day happened to interact with the police department of a city in Louisiana and a policeman was like "hey last week you missed a guy from New Jersey who deadass smashed an ancient mirror in a bar because they were playing a song he didn't like on the jukebox". And Benoit was like (I can't write his dialogues I am so sorry) "Mmhh yeah muhst say thur arh sum jingles I simply cannut grow fund of but by Guhd to,,, smash an ancient mirruh that wuld be bee-YOnd mahself"

And these connections are all canonical in my mind. (There are crossover fanfics between Good Omens and Sandman, and between House and BBC Sherlock, and between Sherlock and the James Bond franchise, and between House and Good Omens- there's a fic I really like with these fandoms- and there's a drawing I also reblogged on Tumblr of Fred presenting Benoit Blanc as his dad).

So, basically, in my head, Sherlock is highly pissed off by Benoit Blanc being considered the best detective in the world though he respects him, Q is Fred Jones's uncle and probably added a lot of cool MI6 features to the mystery machine, Gregory House, notorious atheist, lives in the same universe of angels and demons and the Sandman and pisses off Sherlock Holmes costantly just because they don't like eachothers, Hob Gadling amd Crowley looked at eachothers once and they knew neither of them were humans, Aziraphale and Crowley always stumble in every other characters' shenanigans and once in a while throw a miracle their way and Hugh Grant/Philip makes cupcakes for everyone.

And if you really want me to be precise, Dead Poet Society lore counts for Wilson, but Neil didn't, well, if you saw the movie you know.

And I know they are technically not correlated, but I would love to find a way to connect Dirk Gently, Todd Brotzman and The Rowdy Three in all this.

There's a part 2 to this post here

[arnamantle]

Can a house be haunted even while it burns down?

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[seivsite]

THE GOLDEN TRIO .ᐟ

includes: otoya eita x fem!reader x karasu tabito. everything is platonic, a few swear words, not so intended harry potter golden trio reference — wc: 523

At first, you thought of them as arrogant and stupid. Oh, how wrong could you be. After becoming their so-called “girl best friend,” you get to see a side of them they never really show to anyone; it’s a very exclusive side reserved only for you.

It’s quite funny how you became friends. It all started after the U-20 match when Otoya spotted you at the bowling alley and found you really pretty. He mustered up the courage to ask you out on a date, but little did he know that you weren’t easily impressed. You began teasing him by pointing out his flaws, like saying his hair looked like a turnip or joking about his lack of romantic success despite his popularity. Your playful banter continued until he pleaded on his knees for you to stop. Meanwhile, Karasu couldn’t contain his laughter, amused by the whole situation unfolding in the background.

After all that, Karasu introduced himself and Otoya, but you already knew who they were because they stood out in the U-20 match. Without missing a beat, they immediately asked which one of them was cooler, expecting a response that favoured one of them.

However, you took a moment to consider and then casually replied, “Itoshi Rin.” A smile played on your lips as you chuckled, watching their expressions deflate in defeat.

The dynamic between the three of you is undeniably unique and perhaps even questionable at times. You’d have to listen to all of Otoya’s flimsy attempts to woo girls, and there you were, telling him that those girls were assholes, and he shouldn’t date them because they would only ruin his life and dignity.

And then there’s Karasu, always judging all his friends from Blue Lock and sharing all sorts of stories with you. Like that one time Shidou tried to fight Rin but ended up getting electrocuted and tied up as a result. He thought, “Damn, that could never be me, man. I don’t understand that guy. He even got a hard-on during the U-20 match! Can you believe it?”

As time went on, the bond between the three of you grew stronger, and you found yourself often playing the role of mediator in your conversations. Whenever Karasu said something that offended Otoya or expressed a different opinion, Otoya would turn to you, seeking your perspective. Your response would vary depending on your mood and the circumstances at hand.

You also now have two intimidating men barking at people who try to hit on you or make you uncomfortable. They wouldn’t hesitate to punch someone in the face if they ever looked at you the wrong way.

You wouldn’t hesitate to surprise them with random gifts that reminded you of each of them. For example, you might have bought Karasu a crow plush because it reminded you of him, or a ninja figure with the same hair colour as Otoya. They were always pleasantly surprised by these gestures and wondered how you could afford such things. Whenever they asked about the source of your funds, you would simply reply with a mischievous wink and say, “It’s a secret.”

NOTES. i pulled this out of my ass its kinda wonky but whatever i need more karasu otoya content

LIKES AND REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED! ‹3

[bug-the-chicken-nug]

brainrot over mlb again someone has probably already done this, sorry if that's true. also pre-emptive warning for intentional unhealthy dynamics but anyway: standard kwamiswap AU with Marinette getting Plagg and Adrien getting Tikki But along with this, it also posits that Marinette has always been "unlucky", and Adrien has always been "lucky". The AU then focuses on playing with the idea of this, making you suspect it's untrue, but then worry it really is true, exploring the implications of it, questioning if "destiny" is real or not, pointing out that sometimes "luck" is subjective, etc, etc. It's now specified that the bakery is struggling and Marinette's kinda poor, and she often kind of feels paranoid it's her fault (even though her parents have never actually told her this), or at least that they'd do better if it wasn't for her. They also often have less time and energy for her as a result of having to work harder to keep above water, which she unfortunately sometimes can't help but take the wrong way. Her misfortune also is what feeds into her need to plan everything, know people's schedules, and generally be a people pleaser. And with it cutting into funding for her fashion hobbies, and with her receiving less positive reinforcement and attention in the first place, she's just... generally sadder and less fulfilled than canon. Adrien meanwhile still lost his mom, but it's the standard "happened right after you got mad and wanted something bad to happen" setup, and now it's another part of why he's always so nice to people, because part of him is still subconsciously worried that he actually *can* influence bad things to happen to people just by hoping for it. Which has also progressed into a general recurrent anxiety over his lifestyle in general, and a fear that being rich at all is depriving and harming others. I also feel like they have altered hero personas and dynamics as a result of all this too Like Lady Noir steadily becomes kind of a show off, previously starved for praise and attention, and has somewhat more of a temper and a mean streak, due to using Lady Noir to unbottle her frustrations with her life. She also kinda resents Mr. Bug (btw, my placeholder rename for him is Scarlet) at first out of envy, especially because at first she kinda feels hurt and insulted by the idea of now having to be the "destructive" hero of "misfortune". Which progresses into a tsundere kinda deal where she's in love, but would rather explode than admit it (in part because she's terrified that if she admits to it and acts on it, she'll just fuck it up anyway) Scarlet still jokes and quips, but Lady Noir's increased volatility kinda taught him to back off early on, and the vibe is more like "concerned for her/trying to cheer her up" than "in love with her". He's also more pacifistic than Chat, and generally a bit more cautious and not as outwardly carefree about heroism in general, because of his increased anxiety about not wanting to make anyone suffer. It's honestly kinda toxic at first, because Lady Noir starts taking the lead (specifically *Scarlet's* idea in the first place, to try and help her loosen up and feel more confident), only for this to kinda backfire on Scarlet, because she becomes kind of bossy and starts blaming him when things go wrong, to protect her own ego. Then, the civilian relationship's also changed in a way that contrasts it. This version of Marinette is... technically into Adrien, but not pursuing or even properly realizing it, because she's so deeply convinced she doesn't deserve him that she represses the hell out of it. But Adrien kinda compensates, because he still feels a similar compulsion to try to cheer her up as Marinette too, especially because Chloe's mean to her, so that makes him feel indirectly guilty because he's Chloe's friend

So the civilian dynamic, ironically, is that they bond much faster, and Marinette follows him around like a meek, docile, undyingly loyal puppy, and will do *anything* he says. But it's *still* kinda unhealthy this way too, even though he's always nice to her. She gets it in her head that he's the only one who can "cancel out" her bad luck, making her get needier and clingier (while also being guilty about it, but not able to stop) And meanwhile, he gets kinda overprotective and smothery, while being the first one to get feelings for her. Partly because caring for her is something he chose for himself, and gives him a sense of actual purpose, compared to his disillusionment with his other responsibilities, partly because she makes him feel special for more than just his status or the stuff he has. So yeah, it DOES all get better, but it's Definitely a "gets worse before it gets better" kinda thing (at the very least, there comes a point where realizing that she's kinda being like Chloe is enough to snap Lady Noir out of the way she treats Scarlet)

[voxxisms]

vague wishlist thread ideas sorted by character (types?) i have some thoughts sometimes about things i wanna do with vox, plots && ideas. some of these are vague or more specific, && some are just settings or aus. putting a cut for dashboard sake. might link in pinned, will tag appropriately. might add more later.

general interactions / with anyone

vox at the hotel in either seeking redemption or as an investor

vox being injured or your muse fighting him in some capacity

vox stepping in to protect your muse with the goal of taking advantage of the dynamic. soul contract / employment or even just general favor owing

redeemed vox in heaven?? hello?

overpowered au content. this post sorta explains the vibes. he's super paranoid, very powerful, but surprisingly easy to be chill with if you behave well.

role swap vox with anyone literally. the only real one ive considered is alastor, in depth. he's an old - fashioned box head, perfectly modern inside for efficiency but looks like he belongs in the decades he lived in. very gentle, very empathetic && sweet. contracted to lilith (mine unless someone else wants to contract him) && helps the hotel.

vox being contracted to someone else.

arranged marriages / marriages of convenience

human verse stuff!! from either when vox was alive (1898-1945) or i'm happy to play with timelines in aus

bridgerton au, vox is george taylor, a wildly sickly man with too much money && a rake mostly. a lord by blood.

hanahaki. unrequited love that gives them diseases, any ending.

his self - punishment room being discovered.

vox in therapy lmaoo

fake dating.

with valentino

valentino having to fix vox

their toxic / possibly sweet relationship when they're on

vox being jealous / possessive

a break up?? if they're on / off it feels like something that happens a lot, i find them fun to write

marry each other smh tax benefits or domestic, either

valentino saving vox / vox saving valentino

with velvette

vox saving her in any way

her having to fix him post a fight or something else

vox modeling for her

ship stuff is fine, just as like, qpr stuff or mentorships

vox being over protective even if he really shouldnt be

with charlie

vox investing in the hotel for any reason (be it her askance, his own idea, or someone else's, or even seeking redemption ). might be genuine, probably more for info gathering

vox offering to personally assist in repairing the hotel

vox saving charlie from danger for fun bc its always good to have someone owe him something

with husk

knowing husk in his overlord times ( pre show / au )

vox having invested in husk's casino

vox being husk's contract holder for some reason?? could be fun

vox n husk fake dating for any reason i saw art for it once listen

with lucifer

vox seeking lucifer's creation expertise in early years (he was an entrepreneur once)

vox doing work / helping with lulu world being created as resident like, electronics man

vox making a deal with lucifer in some capacity, not necessarily Big Deal but you know

with angel

vox protecting him

vox saving him from valentino's ire (on acccident or otherwise)

vox having to step in for valentino on set lmaooo

angel && vox bonding over their similar experiences with val

vox caring for angel post a valentino encounter

angel for some reason being under contract with vox (different work/different expectations)

with rosie

the two having been close during vox's active relationship with alastor?

vox doing business with rosie / i.e. providing her with bodies or people from his territory in exchange for allyship

him investing in cannibal town somehow. owning property / providing funds for rennovation

tea parties?? him cooking for her?? her teaching him how to make cannibal - based food??

with alastor

alastor having been a mentor to early - hell vox

au in which the two have always remained working together, i love the concept. very media husbands coded but also not necessary to be romantic.

all the backstory, their friendship pre - show, especially the event that actually led them to split. i like to hc that they several things that slowly pushed them apart until vox invited him to the vee's right before alastor disappeared (this is dependent of course on the alastor / those hcs but)

au where alastor actually joined the vee's

au where vox offered alastor his soul in exchange for them remaining "friends". does not have to be a very sweet dynamic ofc

vox cooking for alastor / other vaguely domestic things

generally reconciling bc yknow

vox dying!! in alastor's arms!! or the other way around!! (not necessarily permanent but yknow)

RadioStatic of all flavors, unrequited/unspoken/QPR/exes/anything.

the role swap from above.

with other vox's i love duplicate interactions

the girls are fighting

playing into the doubling && working together

vox trying to help the other vox get back home properly

other vox (or himself) being a clone on purpose

upgrading / fixing each other

protecting each other

left brain right brain vibes???

au swaps? a role reversal vox meeting a regular vox? timeline swaps? one vox is from the 70's one vox is from modern times? one vox who is still friends with alastor && the other who isn't?