#For every lie I tell them they tell me three

[matrixbearer2024]

Suffering

Are you really even living? Or simply surviving doctor? When had immortality turned from a blessing into a curse? More importantly, did you really even care? Or did you only care because you're now all alone?

AKA; Ford internalizing now that he's alone and invulnerable to the sands of time. The same can't be totally said for his mental state though. After all, he's only human.

Songfic based on "Suffering" by Amelie Farren written for my Time Lord Twins AU!

I'm very delulu for my AU- so have a sneak peek into Doc's future with this song fic I wrote. I have three distinct moments for Stanford as the Doctor in my timelord twins AU:

the Doctor that neglects — when he was young and was only a Doctor thanks to his PhDs

the Doctor that regrets — present, where I normally create content for him and where his blog and RP are currently situated

the Doctor that forgets — the far flung future where he outlives everybody and completely embraces being a time lord

I'll be tagging these posts accordingly, but I'd love to talk about his lore much more if you guys are interested!

The sun had long dipped below the edge of the cosmos, surrendering to the sea of stars that now spilled across the boundless sky. Within the TARDIS, Stanford stood against the vast backdrop of that eternal night, the hum of the ship's machinery a constant, soothing drone beneath the cacophony of his thoughts. The silver pill case in his hand reflected the light of a nearby console, gleaming with a sterile brightness that made his skin crawl. He turned it over between his fingers, contemplating the small white tablets that represented his fragile tether to equilibrium.

  I've thrown aside my worries, but the cares they bite me back. I'm taking twenty vitamins a day, for the iron I lack.

  Stanford grimaced, the corners of his lips pulling downward as the familiar bitterness welled up in his throat. He tilted his head back and swallowed the pills dry, feeling them scrape down his throat as if rebelling against their purpose. Sustenance without substance, that was his life now. He no longer needed food to keep going, no longer needed the simple pleasures of living— he only indulged when he could remember to, when the aching loneliness hadn’t numbed his senses entirely.

  I don't need food I don't need sleep, don't tell me that I'm wrong! I don't know what I'm doing— But can you please just play along?

  The first decade had clawed at him with relentless, gnawing grief. Each year afterward seemed to find a new way to hollow him out, chiseling deeper into the marrow of his being until there was nothing left but the echo of old anguish. He would lie awake in the captain’s chair or pace the TARDIS halls, every footfall a metronome counting out regrets. Days would bleed into each other, a palette of shadows smearing over any sense of time. He’d stopped counting birthdays after the 200th, the last one he’d shared with Stanley.

  Why count when the numbers stretched toward an infinity he wanted nothing to do with?

  My head is made of flowers, and my body made of steel. Cause I can't think— Can't hear— can't feel!

  Stanford’s fingers flexed, muscles tightening and releasing as if testing the reality of their presence. The memories surged forward like a wave, unstoppable and suffocating— hands covered in grime and ash, eyes stinging from the smoke that rose like specters around him, the taste of iron sharp on his tongue. He had touched the stars, commanded them, until they burned him to cinders. His mind was an overgrown thicket now, vines of regret and bitterness weaving through every synapse, thorned reminders of a past he could neither escape nor amend.

  When he closed his eyes, he could see them— faces etched into the void, voices calling out in anguish as they fell. Each step, each choice, stained his path with crimson guilt. He felt like a monument to grief, immovable and ever-decaying.

  They say a picture's worth a thousand words, but I disagree. I can't imagine anything Cause I can't see!

  The doctor let out a breath that shuddered its way past his chest, eyes straying to the holographic stars projected across the TARDIS library. What he once chased with fervor and ambition had turned into an unyielding prison. The titles of “healer” and “teacher”, which once filled him with pride, now felt like weights dragging him deeper into the abyss. What good was saving worlds when he couldn’t save his own heart from splintering?

  I won't break the ice though what else Is there to do? Cause suffering in silence is better—

  He could scream, tear at the walls and curse the very fabric of the universe, but he didn’t. The tears had dried up centuries ago, leaving him a stoic effigy among the whirring consoles and glowing monitors. The charade was familiar— a smile that never reached his eyes, words measured and wrapped in carefully crafted ease. He was an actor in the greatest tragedy ever told, where the curtains never fell.

  Than suffering with you.

  The doctor’s gaze dropped to the leather-bound journal resting on the armrest of his chair, untouched for days. The pages within held maps of stars, sketches of constellations, and annotations written with a frantic hand, desperate to capture even a fragment of meaning. The room around him felt cavernous, echoing with memories of Dipper’s quick wit and Mabel’s bright laughter. He could almost hear them, almost see their shadows darting between bookshelves.

  But it was only him, just him, marooned in this endless stretch of time.

  So I jumped out with a parachute, but the ground caught me off guard. Karma for the rules I break, the ones I disregard.

  The temptation to go back, to step through rifts that bent reality and visit those moments, was irresistible. He’d done it before, left the TARDIS hidden among the trees and traced the familiar paths of Gravity Falls with trembling steps. His heart would clench as he watched past versions of himself and his twin squabble over nonsense, the cheery voices of his grand niece and nephew not long to join. Their voices carrying over the wind with the kind of ease that only came before everything shattered.

  I can feel the tension rising. What fate is worse than this? Stuck between the ones I love—

  He’d watch them, hidden in the shadows of his own memories, a ghost to a life he once lived. Cosmic rules be damned. He’d listen to the echoes of their laughter until it felt like it would break him, that painful, beautiful sound that underscored just how far he’d fallen. But even then, he would not dare approach, would not dare alter a single second.

  And the ones I miss.

  Stanford’s eyes shifted to the flickering flames of the library’s fireplace, its light casting restless, dancing shadows across the room. The orange glow did little to warm the chill embedded in his bones. How many Fords, across how many dimensions, would have craved this? A sanctuary lined with knowledge and power, the respect of entire galaxies balanced on a single whispered name— ‘Doctor.’ And yet, it was all as hollow as the space between the stars.

  My head is made of shrubbery, and my body made of stone. Cause I can't for the life of me— reap what I have sown!

  He tightened his hold on the armrest, the leather creaking under his grip. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. It never should have come to this— sailing across time, trapped in a machine that hummed with its own form of loneliness, while he wore a mask that no one ever questioned. It felt like being both the sculptor and the statue, shaping and trapped by the life he’d carved out.

  They say a picture's worth a thousand words, but I disagree. I can't imagine anything, 'cause I can't see!

  The weight of immortality, once so alluring, now coiled around him like iron shackles. What did it matter if entire legions paused at the utterance of his name? What did it matter if beings far beyond human comprehension flinched at the sight of him? It meant nothing without the echoes of laughter, without the warmth of shared stories and the unspoken understanding of his family’s presence beside him.

  I won't break the ice though what else Is there to do? 'Cause suffering in silence is better—

  He filled the silence with companions, short-lived stars that burned bright and fizzled out too quickly. They were there, and then they weren’t. Time was relentless, wearing them down to memories while he stood unchanged. Each one chipped away at him, left him a little more hollow. His only true constant was Stanley, and even he didn’t know the full story. Ford wouldn’t let him, couldn’t let him see that far into the dark.

  Than suffering with you.

  The TARDIS thrummed, a soft, sympathetic sound that vibrated through his bones as if it, too, mourned the lives they’d shared and lost. Ford exhaled, the heaviness in his chest pressing down like a stone. He could carry this, he would carry this— because if there was one thing he’d learned in all these centuries, it was that some battles are never meant to be shared. Some wars are fought in silence, against an enemy that wore your face in the mirror.

  And if the burden grew too heavy, well— he was the Doctor. He would bear it alone.

  He had to.

  I try to sink and never float.

  Some days, the weight was manageable, a familiar companion that settled over him like a well-worn cloak. But tonight, the burden felt insurmountable, pressing against his chest until each breath tasted sharp, like the metallic tang of blood from battles fought too long ago to matter and yet too vivid to forget.

  Stanford’s eyes turned to the viewport, where the stars blinked back at him with their indifferent light. Once, those points of light had been symbols of promise, of adventure and uncharted paths. Now they were cold eyes watching as he drifted— an eternal voyager, bound by his own choices and the mistakes that clung to him like barnacles on a shipwreck.

  Cause my head is underwater.

  The doctor’s fingers found the edge of his sleeve, gripping it tight as though it could anchor him. The silence roared in his ears, the kind that made old wounds ache with the sharpness of fresh cuts. Memories of splintered wood and that familiar bite of ozone filled his senses. The frantic fight, the blinding light, the hole that had torn through his chest— a wound that should have marked the end. He let out a shuddering breath, feeling phantom pain coil around him like a serpent.

  I’m here by choice by my own hand.

  The most damning part was knowing that every fracture, every scar, was carved by his own hand. He’d walked into the chaos willingly, driven by an insatiable need to prove something— to whom, he couldn’t even remember anymore. A need that had led him to make choices that, at best, haunted him and, at worst, had cost him everything.

  I’m a lamb sent into slaughter.

  He ran a hand through his hair, disheveling the silver strands that had once been a youthful umber. The weight in his chest grew heavier, spreading through his limbs. He remembered the moment he’d sealed his fate with a handshake and a grin, signing away pieces of himself to a demon who promised everything and gave nothing but ruin. Even now, the jeers of that one-eyed triangle haunted the corners of his vision, mocking him with every beat of his undying heart.

  I’m aware of my own body.

  Every nerve ending screamed in protest as memories flared to life. The repair box’s nanobots— an endless legion that buzzed beneath his skin— worked tirelessly, a ceaseless reminder that he wasn’t wholly his own anymore. Some days, he could almost feel them moving, an itch he could never scratch. His hands curled into fists, knuckles turning white as he resisted the impulse to claw at the sensation, to rip it out and make it stop.

  I can feel beneath my skin.

  But he didn’t. He never did. The discipline of centuries held him captive, a slave to his own stoic facade. He swallowed hard, letting the tension dissipate as much as it ever could, settling like sediment at the bottom of his soul. The fire’s light flickered over his features, casting deep shadows that made his face look carved from stone.

  I can wash away my insecurities.

  He stood abruptly, the sudden motion sending a wave of dizziness through him. The doctor steadied himself against the back of the chair, eyes closing as he drew in a breath. The act was as much a ritual as any he performed— a way to wash the fractures of his spirit, to convince himself that he was still whole. But deep down, he knew.

  But can’t wash away my sin!

  No amount of time, no act of heroism, could ever cleanse the burgundy that stained his hands. It was a truth that gnawed at him, a constant shadow that whispered during his moments of quiet. He turned toward the shelves, running a finger over the spine of a book he’d read a hundred times but never truly absorbed. Knowledge without purpose— just like him.

  They say a picture’s worth a thousand words, but I disagree! I can’t imagine anything—

  The holographic stars in the library blinked and swirled, shifting constellations that once spoke of wonder and exploration. Now, they were a cruel reminder of all the places he’d been, all the faces he’d left behind. He raised a fist, hesitated, then let it fall to his side. He couldn’t even find the anger to break the illusion.

  Cause I can’t see!

  His vision blurred, not with tears— those had dried up long ago— but with the weight of exhaustion that pressed down on him like a vice. Every accolade, every whispered praise, fell flat, their meaning washed away by the tides of time and repetition. The applause of civilizations felt no different than the hollow sound of silence.

  I won’t break the ice though what else Is there to do?

  The cold chill crept into his veins, a familiar companion that had shared his endless nights. Yet, he dared not crack the veneer he’d cultivated— that smile, that reassuring nod. It was a mask, as impenetrable as the TARDIS walls. To break it would mean shattering the delicate balance that kept him standing.

  Cause suffering in silence is better—

  Stanford’s fingers brushed against the journal again, the touch almost reverent, as if it held the answers he’d long given up searching for. The one story he couldn’t write was his own— each word caught in the tangle of what-ifs and could-have-beens that ensnared his mind.

  Than suffering with you!

  He swallowed back the ache, pushing it down to the depths where it simmered and seethed. To bear it alone was better; it was safer. The doctor would stand, resolute and silent, a guardian of time burdened by its cruelest truths.

  And as the night deepened, the stars outside continued their silent vigil, unmoved by the man who carried the weight of universes in his lonely fractured heart.

Tell me what you think about these two! I've got more drabbles in store for them aside from the content already on both their blogs @gftimelord & @gftimelordstwin! Also posted here on Ao3!

[the-s1lly-corner]

May I request various creepypastas x teen!bullied!reader who goes to them for comfort? Platonic of course <:

Ticci Toby, Laughing Jack, Jeff the Killer x bullied!teen!reader (platonic)

ran for the first time in a few years today and woooooooough boy my shins!! owie!! OUCH! notes: reader is gn, no specified age for the reader outside of them being a teenager, reader is a normal kid save for the fact theyre friends with monsters and killers cws: bullying mentions

TICCI TOBY

god he feels for you big time- it feels like so long ago that he himself was in your own shoes- and yet not that far away in his past. he loathes bullies, and when you open up to him about whats going on at school hes going to be so.... pissed...

hes not going to go out and kill them for you, that would get you in so much trouble, but hes not going to lie when he says the idea isnt tempting... oh who is he kidding? hes above going after a bunch of students... maybe... it does hit a specific nerve in him

as a compromise he teaches you come backs- ways to make them falter and how to humiliate them back. granted a lot of them is stuff he wished he had the nerve to say when he was in your shoes. youre simply doing younger toby proud by doing this

that said he does give you some pointers in the event that you need to physically fight someone... no one said you had to fight fair, aim for the shins. kick them in the shins. please kick them in the shins plsplsplsplsplspls

JEFF THE KILLER

like toby he also has a history with dealing with bullies- though the way he dealt with them may be a little too extreme for your taste. whatever, theyre youre problem ultimately hes not going to force you to carry a knife around on you

that being said hes going to shit talk them every chance he gets, if they can dish it then they can handle it... even if theyre not there to hear it... you do bookmark some of the things he said to repeat down the line, some of the things he utters is enough to make a sailor flustered! enough to make the devil take some notes. he does not hold any punches

rather than trying to get you to fight back- be it physically or verbally-... okay well he IS going to help you in that area because hes not going to have some snot nosed brats push you around- hes going to try to help you let the harassment slip off your back

see he knows the one thing they hate most is not giving them a reaction- take it from him, someone who likes getting a reaction from those around him

LAUGHING JACK

hell if its possible you could probably keep him in his box and carry him around with you in your backpack- out of the three hes the easiest to hide in plain sight thanks to that little quirk of his!

he is not above tripping someone, when no ones paying attention hes going to use his long arms to trip your bullies up and make sure everyone sees them fall over "nothing". or trip them up if they try to get physical with you- definitely makes you look a lot more skilled in fighting than you might actually be. and hes quick too, hardly anyone would be able to tell whats going on before hes dipping his arms back into your bag

whispers jokes and insults in your ear in live time to repeat to the people trying to make you feel like shit... sometimes he has no filter and he may go to far but ultimately its on you if you want to put those words out into the public

always has something sweet on hand as a little pick me up

[chattybugette]

Swiftie Chloe Swiftie Chloe Swiftie Chloe Swiftie Chloe Swiftie Chloe Swiftie Chloe Swiftie Chloe Swiftie Chloe Swiftie Chloe Swiftie Chloe Swiftie Chloe Swiftie Chloe Swiftie Chloe Swiftie Chloe Swiftie Chloe Swiftie Chloe

[triglycercule]

mtt playing poker but why would they bet with money thats soooo boring boo boo boo no they bet with increasingly worse and concerning things and its fun for some reason

oh theyd LOVE that shit istg. luck and bluff and tells and lies??? god who knows your own lies and deceit better than another version of yourself??? and yet picking up the other two's tells is oh so very hard because theyre not the same anymore than when they were all sans and sometimes they dont even know themselves so how could they pick up on a mirrored version's? it works out a lot more than they think

killer would have no disregard for what he bets. he plays unpredictably and sneakily. probably faking some emotion here and there to get the hasty (horror) confused and concerned about what he could do and then it turns out killer had a fucking ass hand yet he won??? BULLSHIT horror cries out!!!! but dust just picks up the cards on the ground and deals them again and they play another round. sometimes killer purposely loses. why? he dont know its just to throw a wild card into dust and horror's predictions and mayhaps for the reactions

dust is a dirty player he is a fucking CHEATER‼️‼️‼️ phantom paps are his eyes that he uses to spy on killer and horror's hands. would he need to even try anymore at that point when he could easily win every round? well yes because that wouldn't be a fun game and dust wants to have as much fun as he can in this game of lies. he pretends he doesn't know what horror and killer's hands are. they both know. theyre both more than aware of dust's cheating. and that's why their betting starts going against him specifically and then dust has to figure out how to bet them higher while also trying not to fuck himself over

horror's main thing is just to not get fucked over. goddamnit why did he agree to this he's not as open to getting hurt than dust or killer are!!! (but you still agreed anyways?) so he thinks he's the only one to have a real reason to win (because horror no wanna get hurty hurty owww owww painpainpain ouch!!!) maybe he gets too cocky and ends up betting too high because dust or killer had been losing and he wanted to take a chance. maybe that high bet was actually what got him to win?? it's all a game of chance of course and horror'll only show what he thinks after the round's done. when the cards are dealt and the stakes are up he'll just analyze the hell out of the two (don't YOU hate being analyzed??) and tap his fingers on the table over and over

their way of betting would be like: the winner gets to do whatever the other two said as their bets to the betters. like if dust loses and horror wins and he said he could get sucker punched horror is sucker punching the FUCK out of him. but these three argue they fight and bicker and throw gibes and taunts!!! how would they ever agree on what bets are higher and which are lower ⁉️⁉️⁉️ to horror a bet of saying that he'd have to eat something could be like straight hell to him but killer and dust could just put the argument that it doesn't REALLY mean that much (they know it does to horror) and then force him to bet higher because cmon coward you can do better than that!!! dont you want to get some sort of revenge on us if you lose a previous round and win this one??? and other forms of logic like that 4 dust and killer

killer starts off with an absurdly high bet (because he would) like getting to mess with his soul or something. is he sure that dust and horror have losing hands? he doesn't know. and because killer has no form of limit for himself and that's already a high bar to set for dust and horror to reach (if they don't have good hands i think they'd probably want killer to bet lower. but would they tell him??) so damn it horror has to pull out some bullshit fucking bet like he'll allow himself to get hunted down by the two with every trap he's ever set on a human in horrortale (sooo much more psychological thinking and trickery going on without betting money and instead scenarios its SO FUN). and then could dust fold? does phantom paps say he should? it depends on the cards dust has (and what if he doesn't believe paps based on his own assumptions? (paranoid bitch)) and if he can't fold he has to match the bet or go higher and then he comes up with some bogus situation like ok i'll let you guys dress me up in my human's clothes and throw me in an au and have to do what they did (and OH GOD what about if they make a bet that the other 2 wouldn't actually want to do if they win??? if killer won that round with that as dust's bet would he want someone to reenact something similar to what his own human did and have to watch??????)

oops they just got another new set of scars from last week's poker night and another layer of trauma but why the hell are they sitting down at the table again??? idk man i'm just the dealer here trying not to get killed

[echo-s-land]

It's insane how most of the time I don't get how ppl interact and I also Don't Fucking Care

[cantstayawaycani]

Personal...

[bylertruther]

people will see a character that was created to be a certain way from the very beginning before everything was even set in stone, then actually written that same way even before The Plot happens in the final product, watch their core personality remain constant all throughout a show's lifespan from beginning to end, and even watch it be highlighted as a Good and True thing to be proud of and that is inspiring to others and sorely needed and not something to ever change or belittle in one of the most emotional scenes of a season that doubles as a high point & character defining moment, and instead of thinking Hm Maybe This Character Just Is This Way And We're Being Told That They Should Love Themselves For It The Same Way Everyone Else Does And How They Once Did Too Before Their Insecurity Got The Best Of Them And Told Them They Should Change, they will instead call it repression and not his true self and something to be changed even though it literally just is who he is. and all of this happens in the show where we are repeatedly hit over the head with the "you should stay true to yourself and love yourself no matter what other people think or tell you you should be". where the motto is literally "never change" nd conformity is killing the kids. like. Okay ❤️

[a-shade-of-blue]

Hi everyone. Mohammed Khalil (@ahmed0khalil) has asked me to share his story, and I’m writing on his behalf. Mohammed created the donation campaign for his little brother 6-year-old Ahmed, and he aims to raise funds to evacuate his family of 8. You can see in his blog how much he loves and worries for 6-year-old Ahmed. Mohammed is only 19 years old. This is not normal. He should have been in school, not begging for our attention to try and raise enough funds so that they can buy food, water, medicine, and a chance to evacuate to safety.

In Gaza, where the sounds of bombing blend with the cries of children, Mohammed and Ahmed's family experienced days they never imagined they would endure. Mohammed (19) and Ahmed (6) have four other siblings: Fathi, Aya, Anas and Abdullah. Aya (21) is a uni nursing student and Anas (15) is also a school student. Neither of them can study anymore with the current genocide. This war is especially hard on Fathi (23), who is blind and suffering from coronary artery disease, Abdullah (11) who is autistic and does not understand what is happening, and Ahmed (6), a small child who had barely started kindergarten before his education came to a halt.

The destruction that struck the area left them with no place to live. The sounds of explosions fill the horizon, and the homes that once sheltered them have become piles of rubble. They suddenly found themselves outside their home, homeless.

The bombing not only destroyed their home, but also severely injured Mohammed. Mohammed was sitting at the entrance of the school his family was sheltering in when three bombs were dropped in front of him. The bombs destroyed a residential tower in front of Mohammed. Dust filled the air and the resulting rubble and shrapnel fell on Mohammed, injuring him in the leg. Mohammed was so severely wounded that he could not walk, and he had to lie there, hurt and bleeding, for 2 hours before the Palestinian Red Crescent came and carried him to the hospital.

The bombing shattered the glass in the school Mohammed and his family was staying at, but thankfully the children sustained no serious injuries. Soon after, they were asked to evacuate the school immediately as there were news that the IOF were going to bomb the Abbas prison near it. And so even though Mohammed was wounded, he could not rest and wait for his leg to heal, but had to leave again with his family.

Now they are living in a small tent in a refugee camp. Mohammed told me that they had to bathe in polluted water and the place smelled of sewage and corpses. Camp life was difficult not only because of the scarcity of food, the infectious disease, and the polluted water, but also because of the psychological torture they endure. Looking at all the devastation, and how the world seems indifferent to their suffering, Mohammed told me that they, including young innocent 6-year-old Ahmed, had begun to lose hope for a better future.

Internet is unstable and often lacking in the refugee camp. Mohammed is using the precious time when Internet is available to tell me his story. I hope you will not turn away their calls for help. They urgently need donations to provide for shelter, food, and medicine, as well as to evacuate out of Gaza. Donations are coming in really slowly for Mohammed’s campaign, and I beg all of you, please, don't turn a blind eye to his story. 

Mohammed’s campaign has been shared by 90-ghost and I’ve also been talking extensively with him. He is a very nice person and he just really wants to help his family survive. Please, please, help Mohammed evacuate himself, his 5 siblings and his parents! Little 6-year-old Ahmed does not deserve to live in fear of falling bombs every day, and neither does Mohammed and the rest of his family. 

Really low funds! Only €1,185 raised of €50,000 target!!

Please share/reblog and donate to help a family of 8! These are children we are talking about, and my heart breaks for what they have to endure.

Please follow Mohammed and Ahmed on @ahmed0khalil to get updates on their situation!

[hideaway-or-safehouse]

my least favorite thing about having autism + CPTSD is how a trigger of mine can be barely touched and then im silently crying on/off for the rest of the day as i have an autistic shut-down

[hamilando]

ੈ✩ My personal volkov (smau) ੈ✩

pairing : max verstappen x fem reader

summary : max verstappen got married, and his fiancé cannot stop sharing their twisted love

tw : suggestive, fluff

a/n : thank you so much to @amberjazmyn for suggesting this ! lysm 🫶🏻 also, if not obvious, the fic contains references of twisted love by Ana Huang 🫶🏻

·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ

liked by user1, user2, maxverstappen1, yncooper and 2,482,492 others

landonorris helping him take over the husband duties

view comments

fransisca.gnomes good job with the ring max 🌟💪🏻

maxverstappen1 your approval was only needed 🙄

maxverstappen1 aslo norris, I WAS SUPPOSED TO POST THE PICTURES, I was supposed to announce MY ENGAGEMENT

landonorris best friends right ? maxverstappen1 meet me in Abu Dhabi

user1 AHAHAHAHA

user2 MOM AND DAD ARE MARRIED

user3 MR AND MRS VERSTAPPEN !?

user4 I want to taste both max and the pasta he made -

charlesleclerc Y/N, you sure you want to deal with his anger issues for life !?

maxverstappen1 WHAT ANGER ISSUES!?

yncooper exactly the way you are screaming over text in CAPS

yncooper and yes Charles, those anger issues lead tobest fucking of my life

maxverstappen1 Y/N!? HELLO!?

charlesleclerc I regret saying anything

lewishamilton then please calm him before every race, this lad is climbing over my car every time 🫷🏻

georgerussell you are using an emoji !?

lewishamilton so what ? 🤺

georgerussell you need to learn the correct usage of them

user5 they forgot we can see this-

user6 the freakiness on public account !?

user7 I don’t even want to imagine the private -

user8 no worries, some nudes might be there 🍑

user9 BUNDA

user10 🗿💀

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, user1, user2, and 283,391 others

yncooper engaged men do it faster 😮‍💨🌟

view comments

user1 yn never beating the freaky allegations

user2 I won’t be surprised if max whips out handcuffs

user3 they definitely spend millions on bdsm

user4 the dress has easier access-

user5 WHY ARE THE FANS MATCHING THE FREAKINESS !?

maxverstappen1 my skills were top notch since d1

yncooper true, best first date ever 🫶🏻

user6 YALL TELLING ME THEY GOT FREAKY ON FIRST DATE !?

user7 I won’t be surprised if they were just dating for 2 months

user6 surprisingly , they waited for two years 💀

user8 PROJECT VERSTAPPEN IS GOING TO HAVE SOME FINE LOOKS?

user9 blonde, blue eyes, rich parents, yup I would get my kid to befriend their kid

user10 their kid or befriend the kid’s parents 🗿

user11 MAX WINNING THE 100 WDC

user12 that’s biologically impossible 🦅

charlesleclerc do you both bother reading what your fans write ?

yncooper yes, sadly me and max don’t have twisted love

user13 DID SHE QOUTE TWISTED LOVE !?

user14 max and Alex volkov….

user15 THATS A SMASH

user16 I get a TMI every time she posts ✋🏻

liked by maxverstappen, mclaren and 1,485,398 others

redbullracing the three aspects of happy married life “ Stress, tears and beer” 🍻

view comments

user1 my wife said they quoted perfectly 🗿

user2 admin has marriage trauma

user3 admin got too real 💀

user4 max is going after the admin with a knife for posting that pic

user5 them crying on the altar 😭

user6 they are so cute 😭🥹

maxverstappen1 the middle and last picture is perfect ❤️

redbullracing the best for the best 🌟

ynverstappen my heart 🥹 thank you for capturing the sweet and teary moments ❤️

redbullracing welcome to red fam ❤️

user7 y/n chugging down beer is somehow the most y/n thing she could do

user8 max watching y/n chug down 10 glasses of beer be like-

landonorris @ mclaren will I also get such appreciation post on my wedding ?

mclaren a wedding needs two humans Lando

landonorris I have Oscar 🧡

mclaren kindly do not engage in spoiling Oscily 🧡

user9 WE SUPPORT OSCAR AND LILY

user10 admin shutting down lando for Oscar and lily 😭

liked by maxverstappen, landonorris and 2,497,499 others

ynverstappen the eyes never lie, my Alex Volkov 💋

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carlossainz55 you both deserve the world ❤️

liked by ynverstappen

lewishamilton if you ever have marriage troubles, just call me up

maxverstappen1 says the unmarried virgin man

ynverstappen the person staying virgin for the next few month would you max and THANK YOU LEWIS FOR THE LOVELY GIFT 🫶🏻

lewishamilton your welcome yn ❤️

charlesleclerc what did he give …..

ynverstappen Cheval Blanc 1947

charlesleclerc Lewis, I am your teammate, I deserve that too 🫶🏻

landonorris you managed to click a photo max without his racing suit …

ynverstappen I have a whole album ..?

landonorris send me few

ynverstappen nude, semi-nude, shirtless or with clothes ?

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[streetlamp-amber]

never ending night

bruce wayne x femwife!reader

word count: 1.7k | divider by @saradika | requests are open!

CW: pregnancy, pure fluff NOTES: hello hi i’m ailís and i’ve been meaning to start a blog where i can post some one shots that i’ve been thinking of as a way to motivate myself to finally write down my ideas so this is it. i’ll be double posting my stuff on ao3 (which you can find in my bio) and will eventually make a masterlist as well as a navigation post with a list of fandoms/characters i write for. also, english isn’t my first language.

It was close to three in the morning when Bruce finally joined you in bed after a long night of patrolling and fighting bottom of the barrel criminals all night. He showered in the bathroom on the first floor of the manor to avoid making too much noise and waking you up, but when he finally walked in your shared bedroom, you were already awake, sitting up against the headboard.

“Darling, what are you doing still up?” Bruce asked you as he reached his side of the bed.

The room was dark par for the moonlight filtering through the gap between the curtains, meaning your husband had yet to notice the state you were in.

“Dick had a nightmare,” you answered, voice barely above a whisper due to how tired you were. “It took me two hours to get him to fall back asleep and when I finally came back here, this little one started kickboxing me and keeping me awake for another hour,” you continued rubbing your round belly in hopes of soothing your baby to finally catch some sleep.

“I’m sorry I wasn't here to help,” Bruce apologised, planting a kiss on your temple as he held you close to his body.

“It’s alright, Gotham needs you,” you dismissed, not at all angry.

“Still, you’re six months pregnant. You’re growing our child inside your body, you need all the rest you can get,” he softly argued. “I would've come home earlier but all the amateur criminals came out tonight.”

“Bruce, it’s fine,” you brought your hand up to his cheek and he leaned his head into your touch. “You’ve already been cutting your patrols shorter since we found out about the baby. As long as you keep coming back home to us, alive, then I’m not mad.”

Not knowing what to say – his gratefulness for having someone so accepting of his duty as Batman was almost overwhelming, even after all those years – Bruce kissed your palm while staring at you with the same look full of love that he has been sporting since the first time he met you six years ago.

“How’d I get so lucky to fall in love with the most understanding and selfless person I know?” He asked while grabbing your hand on his cheek, wrapping his fingers around yours and squeezing them gently.

“Now that’s a lie,” you rebutted, a loving smile on your lips, lowering your joined hands on the bed. “You’re more selfless than I am. You’re the most selfless man in the world.”

“Let’s not start this never ending argument again,” Bruce chuckled, now his turn to hold your face as he brought you in for a kiss.

You happily sighed against his lips, the feeling of home that overtook you every time you tasted them was a nice welcome in this interminable night. But the kiss was cut short as you felt your baby kick again and you let your head fall back as you groaned.

“She’s still kicking?” Bruce asked you, he couldn't see the movements under your skin due to the darkness of the room and your hand on your belly.

“We don't know it's a she,” you reminded him instead of answering. You had both decided to wait until the birth to know the gender.

“And I’m telling you, I know it's a girl,” your husband repeated for what could be the hundredth time.

You also secretly hoped it was a girl, but Dick really wanted a little brother. Bruce and you were still in the process of warming him up to the idea of a little sister and it was slowly starting to work.

“As long as she doesn't come in my room,” your eight year old son had said last week, with his arms crossed over his chest and a pout on his lips.

“I doubt she’ll be doing that for the first few years, chum,” Bruce reassured him, fighting off a slightly amused grin.

“And the baby will have its own room with its own toys,” you added.

“Will I still be able to play with the baby?” Dick asked after a moment, uncrossing his arms and a hopeful look filling up his blue eyes.

“Of course you will, bubs,” you said, your fingers threading through his black hair that fell over his forehead.

“But only with her toys at first, some of yours are not suited for a baby,” Bruce pointed out, ever the overprotective father.

Bruce had lowered himself down under the blanket so he could be laying head levelled with your belly, his hand now replacing yours over the bump.

“Hey trouble,” he whispered to your child and the baby kicked again, making him smile lovingly at the movement he felt under his hand. “You shouldn't be awake this late at night, you know.”

“You're one to talk,” you commented, tone almost reprimanding.

“She doesn't know that,” Bruce looked up at you as he defended himself before his gaze fell back on your belly. “Mommy is really tired,” he continued talking to your baby, his hand now rubbing soothingly over your round stomach, “and she needs her rest to do all the work so you can come out all healthy and beautiful. Well, you're definitely gonna be the most beautiful baby if you end up looking like your mother, but that's not the point.”

You smiled at the cheesy comment and your fingers found their place in Bruce’s hair, brushing through it and nails occasionally scratching his scalp.

“Your brother Dick can't wait for you to come around,” he carried on. “Said he will teach you all sorts of acrobatic tricks once you know how to walk. And he asked Alfred if he could help paint the nursery when we finally decide on a colour.”

“And I keep telling you we should do soft green,” you argued.

“I’m not changing my mind from primrose pink,” he told you with a sly grin.

“The room won’t be pink, even if it’s a girl. And that’s final,” you firmly said. Your husband will not be winning this one argument, no sir.

Bruce sighed, rolling his eyes before focusing back on your belly. “I hope you’re not as stubborn as your mother,” he whispered to the baby, as if he was having a private conversation with them and that you weren’t there. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s one of the many reasons why I fell in love with her, but I won’t be able to say no to you even when I have to, so it would save me a lot of reprimanding from Mommy if you’re not as tenacious as her.”

You smiled to yourself as you continued listening to your husband talk to your unborn child as you threaded your fingers through his hair, enjoying the softness it had after a shower. Bruce usually gelled his hair to appear more professional when he was working in the day, and then it would get all mixed up with his sweat under his cowl when he was working as Batman. When he would come back to you after the day was over, you would refuse to touch his hair until he had showered, the texture of the gel and sweat too gross on your fingers for you to ignore.

As Bruce continued talking to your baby, his voice started lulling the two of you to sleep. The baby hadn’t kicked in over almost ten minutes now, and the peace you had waited for so long to arrive made you aware of how heavy your eyelids were. You slowly lowered yourself down the bed, getting in a comfortable position with Bruce’s help where you could finally lay your head on your pillow and it didn’t take long for sleep to catch up on you.

At the sound of your soft, barely audible snores, Bruce turned his head away from your bump to find you asleep with your free hand raised next to your head on your pillow, the other one still tangled in his hair.

He planted a soft kiss on the exposed skin of your belly, eyes closed as he took a moment to absorb the fact that a baby that was half you and half him would be joining your world in a little more than three months. Bruce wasn't known to cry, the only time you ever saw him cry was as you walked down the aisle at your wedding, but tonight, a lonesome tear rolled down his cheek and fell on your stomach, where your child was growing, because Bruce never believed he would ever get to experience again the amount of love he hadn't felt since he was eight years old.

As he observed you, sleeping soundly with his child coming to life inside you, after you comforted Dick back to sleep, Bruce, for a moment, felt overwhelmed by all the love in his life. When he became Batman, he crossed out the idea of ever having a family (other than Alfred), of settling down with someone he loved and who loved him back.

But somehow, the universe put you on his path, as a miracle or a guardian angel or simply as an anchor to life outside of Batman, he didn't know. You walked into his home, into his life, to remind him that he, Bruce Wayne, was also deserving of love, of family, of happiness. Then Dick came along, rather unexpectedly but still no less welcomed, and Bruce started entertaining the idea of having children with you. He definitely wasn't opposed to it, but it wasn't something he wanted to jump right into, especially with Dick having just entered your lives. You were both young, he in his early thirties and you in your late twenties, you could allow yourselves a couple of years just the three of you (four with Alfred) before expanding the family.

So it was rather shocking when two months after you and Bruce had officially adopted Dick that you found out you were pregnant. It both took you by surprise but after talking through it together, you couldn't be happier. And the two of you haven't stopped being happy about this new little addition ever since.

Bruce rose up from his position next to your belly, your limp hand fell from his head as he did so, and he laid on the bed next to you. He delicately kissed your forehead, then your nose before falling back on his pillow and whispered “I love you” as he curled around your body, his hand resting on your belly as he fell asleep.

[list4r]

“Eat it or no tv for you.”

“No!”

“Oh cmon you eat this every day, why not now?”

“I don’t want it! You didn’t do it right!”

“It’s a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Ain’t no right way to do it baby.”

Toji narrows his eyes at the little girl who refused to eat the sandwich he made for her. Correction: the fifth sandwich he had made because “he didn’t do it right.” If he had known this is what having a kid would be like he would’ve studied the basics of sandwich making for toddlers. Ridiculous.

“Well can you tell me the way you want it? I’m not sure what the right way is.”

“I want it like how mommy does it!”

“Well mommy is at work.”

“Then I don’t want it.” The face she makes remind him of you, she’s basically a carbon copy of you personality wise. That tiny face scrunched up when she hears or sees something she doesn’t want. It was amazing how easily she could get anything she wants, Toji was wrapped around her tiny little finger.

“Okay I’ll do it again.” He repeats the same routine of grabbing the bread and putting the peanut butter then the jelly on it. Thinking maybe he cut it wrong he decided to cut it in fours. A bad idea by the way because he is immediately hit with the hysterical cries of his toddler.

“Wait hey hey no no- don’t cry. What’s wrong? Did I do it wrong again?”

“I’m telling mommy you starving me and being a meanie daddy!”

“I’m not a meanie daddy, that’s not nice to say.”

“Uh huh!”

“Nuh uh…. Brat.” Toji scoffs as he looks around to find anything to soothe the crying child. “You want chicken nuggets? Pretty sure we got the dino ones you like so much.”

“I want- *sniffle* sandwich.”

“I made you like a 100 of them but you didn’t want them.. I don’t know what you want me to do-“

The sound of your keys turning in the door cut off his words, Toji lets out a sigh of relief. “Baby.. thank god you’re here.” He greets you with a kiss and helps you out of your outerwear, a routine you two have developed over the years.

“Why is she crying Toji? Awww what’s wrong sweetheart?” You pick up the child, holding her close as you wipe the tears off her cheeks.

“Daddy won’t feed me!”

“Wha- don’t lie to your mom like that. She just didn’t want what I made her that’s all.”

Turning to him you raise an eyebrow “what did you make for her?”

“What she always eat for lunch. Fuckin nasty ass peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”

“Don’t call her food nasty in front of her. How did you make it?”

“Like how any normal person makes it.” Toji shrugs, wondering why such a question was asked.

“You have to do it a certain way or she won’t eat it.

“So she said. So I put the peanut butter-“

“No it’s the jelly first Toji.”

“What the fuck? I didn’t know there was a certain way.”

You place the child back down, gathering the ingredients. “It’s always jelly first then the peanut butter, on separate breads too don’t mix them and don’t put too much. Then cut the crusts off and cut them into three rectangles.” You say as you perfectly demonstrate how to make the sandwich. “If you don’t do it like this she won’t eat it. Learned it the hard way- here you go sweetie.”

“Thank you mommy!”

Toji scoffs at the scene, earning a giggle from the little girl happily munching away. “Tch… yeah okay I’ll remember that next she demands it.” He pretended to be annoyed but the happy giggles from his little girl cause his mouth to turn on both corners. Honestly he has a lot to learn about his dad business but having you by his side definitely makes things easier.

“Seriously, ain’t shit easy about raising a child.”

“What can I say? I’m just the best”

“Hm yeah she definitely gets her attitude from you.”

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

Love Me Again

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Warnings: smut

Exes to lovers - this was requested so I hope you like it!!

To be completely honest, Lando doesn't even know what happened that night one year ago. He knows very well that he drank too much, got drunk like never before and that the next day he lost you.

You came to his apartment and found a hair band in the bathroom that wasn't yours. Lando knew whose hair tie it was, but he tried to hide it from you and convince you that it was yours. Of course with that, he only made things worse. The fact that he decided to lie about it hurt you even more.

You threatened to leave him immediately if he didn't tell you what happened the night before and who spent the night in his apartment. It didn't take long for Lando to break down and tearfully tell you that one of his girl friends spent the night at his place after going out. The morning after, he barely remembered anything, but he could have sworn that he hadn't even kissed her, let alone slept with her.

His only fault was that he brought her with him to the apartment and let her sleep there, but even that was more than enough for you to break your heart into a thousand pieces.

You knew which female friend it was. You never even liked her and even though Lando always told you that you had no reason to be jealous, it annoyed you that she was throwing herself at him every chance she got when the two of you were together.

She was too close to him for your liking and then when you heard that she was the one who slept over at his place that night when he was dead drunk, it was over for you.

Lando cried, despaired, begged you to forgive him for months, trying to convince you that for him there was only you, but you couldn't get over your pride and forgive him. In the end, you even believed him that maybe there really wasn't anything between the two of them, but the trust was broken between the two of you and it couldn't be fixed anymore.

Since you two were together for two and a half years before you broke up, you were very close to his family. They adored you and considered you a member of the family. They couldn't believe that you broke up, even they begged you to forgive him, but even though you decided not to, you still remained on good terms with them and continued to hang out from time to time.

And just like that you found yourself on a huge luxury yacht celebrating Mila's third (idk how old is she??) birthday together with Lando and his family. It was a three-day celebration in the small circle of family and for the sake of that you decided to remain calm and behave normally around Lando.

It wasn't easy for you to be so close to him yet so far away. It was even worse for him, but he enjoyed having you around. Of course he tried in every way to reach you, approach you, talk to you, he did everything just to get your attention. From time to time he would succeed, you would find it funny how he tried everything, so you would give in and engage into a conversation with him.

On the last night, everyone went to bed pretty early because they were exhausted from celebrating, swimming and sunbathing for the past three days, but you weren't so exhausted, so you decided to stay in the lounge area of ​​the yacht and be with yourself for a while. The sky was beautiful, full of shining stars and the feeling was so peaceful. You closed your eyes for a moment, but not for long because you were soon startled by none other than Lando's voice.

"You decided to sleep under the sky tonight?" He asked making himself comfortable on the sofa next to you.

"No, I was just enjoying looking at it."

"With your eyes closed?" He mocked.

"What else do you want other than to disturb my peace?" You roll your eyes sitting up from the lying position.

"I was very hot, so I couldn't sleep. Thought I'd come here to the pool to cool off" He says looking at the pool in front of you.

"It's like" You take a look at your phone to check the time. "Almost 1 a.m. and you're going to get in the pool now?"

"Yeah, wanna join me?" He smirks.

"No, thank you." You laugh rolling your eyes at him again.

He gets up from the sofa and begins to remove his shorts, leaving only his boxers on. You were a little embarrassed and you didn't expect him to start undressing in front of you, so you cleared your throat and looked away.

"C'mon, it's nothing you haven't seen before, y/n" He mocks seeing how flushed your cheeks got.

"I'm going to my room, you have fun" You say getting up and fixing your oversized t-shirt that served as your night gown.

"No, come on, stay, keep me company." He pleaded before stepping into the pool. "Please?"

It didn't take long for him to persuade you to stay, because you secretly wanted to, you just didn't want to admit it so you sat down on the edge of the pool dipping your feet into the water as you watched him slowly threw himself in. Diving under the water he swam closer to you.

"You enjoying yourself?" You ask paddling your feet.

"It would be even better if you jumped in with me" He says placing his hands on the edge on either side of you.

"Not a chance" You resist pushing him a little with your feet. He chuckles biting his lip and taking your foot in his hand pulling you to himself a little.

"Lando, don't you dare" You warn him when you feel yourself slide down a little.

"You're not wearing any shorts?" He asks tilting his head to the side to peek under your t-shirt. You gasp quickly closing your legs and pulling your shirt down.

"You're so inappropriate, get away from me" You push his chest with your feet pushing him away from yourself only for to swim back to you again.

"Did you have any fun these past three days?" He asked curiously.

"I did, I have always enjoyed spending time with your family. It was good to see everyone again."

"Even me?"

You stop and sigh softly at his question not wanting to look him in the eye. it still hurts, stings. You'd be lying if you said you weren't glad to see him. You still love him after all, but you're still not sure if you want to forgive him.

"I'd rather not answer that"

He can't hide the hurt look in his eyes after your statement, but he also doesn't want to push you away from him by bringing certain topics up again.

"Well, I'm sorry to tell you, but I had a talk with Mila today and she told me that I am all you talk about. She says it's getting too much even for her to listen to you" Lando being Lando, of course, turns everything into a joke just to lighten the mood. You can't help but burst out laughing at the nonsense that he was saying just to say something.

"There we go, that's the laugh I wanted to hear" You blush at his caring words hiding your face in your shoulder. He takes a risk and places his hands over your knees slowly pulling them apart to stand between them and you surprise both of you when you let him.

"Lando.." You sigh hesitantly when he slowly puts his hands on your waist and pulls you closer to him.

"Please, let me" Before you could even ask him let you what?, he pulled you down into the pool with him. You gasped and your skin crawled as the slightly cold water soaked your t-shirt making it clung to your body.

"Oh my God, oh my God!" You were breathing rapidly trying to grab the edge to get out, but Lando pulled you by your waist closer to his body.

"Hey, it's okay, it's okay"

"You're completely crazy" Your mouth complains, but your body responds differently to his touch especially when he moves one of his hands from your hip to your leg making them wrap around his torso.

"That's better" He says quietly glancing at your lips. You have to admit you feel a little uncomfortable, especially with his lips less than two centimeters away from yours. You haven't been this physically close to each other in over a year and you've almost forgotten what it feels like to feel his skin on yours. "It's just me" He whispers and it somehow calms you down when you remember that it's Lando, your Lando.

"Lando, you can't do this.." You say, but wrap your arms around his neck hiding your gaze in the crook of his neck. Your gesture encourages him so he hugs you tighter and gently kisses you on the cheek.

"Baby, I miss you so much" Your heart trembles at his choice of words. "I'm losing my mind without you" His voice breaks when you look at him and he moves your hair out of your face. Your fingers make gentle circular motions over the back of his head as you press your foreheads together.

"I swear only hope that one day you'll love me again keeps me sane" He continues.

"I've never even stopped" You quietly confess.

Even if he tried, he couldn't describe the feeling of hearing that from your mouth. He felt as if he had come alive again after such a long time.

He couldn't hold back anymore, everything in him was dying to feel you, to kiss you so he crashed his lips against yours and kissed you the way you kiss a person you love more than your life, but haven't been able to touch in more than a year.

You didn't even think about resisting anymore, you gave in and kissed him back with the same force. He walked with your legs still wrapped around him to the edge of the pool pressing against you with your back against it. His hands quickly slipped under your shirt exploring your body again after so long enjoying the sound of your moans.

"Please..please tell me that no one..has touched you..no one but me" His voice was quivering as he tried to get the question out to which he wasn't sure that he wanted to know the answer to.

Lando was your first. First in everything basically. And he was so proud of it. He loved your innocence and the fact that no one had ever made you feel the way he did. You were all his and that's why he had a particularly strong protective feeling towards you. And he probably would lose his mind if he heard that someone else had touched something that only belonged to him.

"No one but you" You panted making him go feral.

His hands went under your butt gripping it before his fingertips moved your panties aside. He grinded his crotch into yours nibbling at the skin of your neck.

"Lan.." You moaned wanting more, but hating to ask for it. Luckily he knows your body like the back of his hand and knows what you need very well so he slipped his middle finger inside of you. One was soon replaced by two making you throw your head back giving him full access to bite and suck on your neck.

"Fuck.." He hissed as the aching feeling in his cock kicked in desperately needing to be touched. "Baby, I need to feel you or else I'm going to explode" He grunts.

"Let's get out of the pool, yeah? We can't fuck in here"

He lifted you up from the water sitting you onto the edge before getting out of the pool himself. You took off your wet shirt leaving yourself only in soaked panties and a bra. He looked you in from head to toe before pulling you to him and laying you down on the sofa hovering over you.

As he pulled his boxers down and his cock sprung off you looked down at him with a slight concern in your gaze and he noticed it.

"What, baby? Is everything okay?" He asked leaning down to kiss you caressing your cheek.

"Yeah, it's just..it's been a while.." His gaze softened and he smiled pressing a kiss to your forehead to calm you down.

"We'll take it slow, okay?" He assured you. He pulled down your bra taking your tits out and attaching his lips around your nipples and with every passing second of him doing so you were getting wetter and wetter. He then took his cock in his hand rubbing his tip over your pussy up and down a few times hissing at the sensation.

He stopped at the center and felt you getting nervous as your breathing quickened. "It's alright, baby, I know you want this, I can feel how wet you are. I'll go slow, I promise."

He slowly pushed the tip in planting kisses along your jawline to distract you from the pain. He pushed a little further and you squeezed your eyes whimpering and holding your hands against his chest.

"It hurts Lan, it's too big.." You cried out trying to close your legs so he put his hand on your cheek gently caressing it. It took everything in him not to cum right away at you complimenting his length.

"Shh, I know, baby, but you have to let me in okay? We'll make it fit, yeah? Like we always used to" He cooed you pushing your legs further apart. "Just a little bit more and it's fully in. You can take it, love, I know you can."

Little by little and he pushed all of himself in staying still until you felt comfortable enough for him to move. "That's it, just like that, baby, always such a good girl for me" He was so impatient to fuck you, to cum all over or inside you it didn't matter to him, but he decided to take his time with you because he wanted you to feel good above everything else.

Once the pain was replaced by the feeling of pleasure, he started thrusting in deep and fast stretching you out in the way only he knew how. When you felt confident enough you wrapped your legs around his torso to push him even deeper.

"Does it feel good?" He asked and you nodded. "This reminds me so much of that time I fucked you on the couch in my parent's house."

"Ohh, Lando” You moaned.

"Where anybody could've walked in on us and see me pounding you from behind. Fuck, you have no idea how much this turns me on.." He groaned.

"I missed all of you, missed fucking you, feeling you squeeze my cock, playing with your pussy, oh" His words were coming out as broken sobs struggling to last as long as possible. "I feel you clenching are you almost there, love?"

"So close"

"Yeah? You're drenching my cock baby. You're so tight, fuck, I'm gonna cum in seconds."

"Ohh..yes yes, ahh"

"Oh shit baby.." Once he saw you slide you hand down to your clit and start playing with it, he lost it. His body shuddered, his cock twitched inside you and he came undone. He kept moving slowly until both of you rode out your orgasms.

When both of you came to your senses he started hugging you and kissing you as if you were going to run away every second. You leaned your head to the side and watched him smiling.

"So..does this mean you're mine again?" He asks tracing his fingertips over your collarbones.

"It does not, but" You emphasize. "If you try a bit harder maybe you can change my mind"

"Understood. Let's get you cleaned up for round two then"

"Lando, that's not what I meant…”

[phoenixfire7894]

I know a lot of Tgcf fans greatly dislike the Banyue Arc (and I understand in the sense that it’s early on that all adaptions really mainly include up to that arc in this point in time and it gets repetitive) but I am actually a decent fan of this arc, mainly because of Hua Cheng, Mu Qing, and Feng Xin all just wearing obnoxiously obvious disguises.

Xie Lian really humored these three.

Hua Cheng is the least offensive of these three. He’s not really actively trying to hide his identity per se. I imagine that he didn’t want to straight up lie to Xie Lian, which is why he only disguised his appearance and then proceeded to be the weirdest person ever. Like mans lowkey waltzed up to Xie Lian and said “Hey bestie, I’m just a good old normal, 100% average teenager who is most definitely not a ghost king or anything like that! Look, I can breathe!“ and then proceeded to info dump a shit ton of information about gods and shit like he’s Wikipedia which a normal, 100% average teenager who is most definitely not a ghost king would most positively not know.

However, our other two offenders actually thought they were fooling Xie Lian, whom may I remind you, is legit their childhood friend. They swapped color pallets and called it a day. And not only did they not try to not act like their selfs in the personality sense in their disguises, they also were just so bad at pretending not to be themselves. Like, someone says “General” in the cave where all the travelers were hiding and they both respond like it’s them being addressed. Idiots.

Also, the three of them just bicker half the time. Mu Qing and Feng Xin just kept yelling that this random nepo-baby Xie Lian picked up was so sus and trying to prove it to him while Xie Lian sits there and tells them to go for it while he snickers internally, knowing the identity of every single disguised person in the room.

These three legit had an argument about whether or not this “San Lang” could drink water. That’s just so fucking funny to me.

Honorable mentions in this arc is Feng Xin getting the shit beat out of him by Windmaster because he somehow was unaware that they swapped gendered forms (which btw, how the fuck did he not know this)?! Also, He Xuan and Hua Cheng just seeing each other in disguises because I wish I got their internal monologues for that.

Tldr: Banyue arc isn’t the best arc in the series, but it still stands as a fairly comedic regardless.

[whorefordean]

attitude adjustment || r.c

wc: 1.7k

cw: mean rafe, reader is kinda bratty, rafe calls reader a bitch, a yummy headlock (will be putting this into every fic probs), p in v sex, unprotected sex, pussy slaps, slight cockwarming

MDNI 18+

rafe sleeps soundly beside you, and that alone is enough to make you hate him. well, not actually hate him, but still. his strong arm is draped across your hip, hand splayed flat across your stomach. his rings glint in the subtle glow of the moonlight.

most people would see this as an act of endearment, however, rafe decided to hold true to his promise of punishing you.

"been such a fucking brat this week, and i'm not in the mood to deal with you," rafe had scolded you earlier in the day while squeezing your cheeks together with a firm grip. you had simply pouted, knowing that eventually he would deal with it by fucking the attitude out of you.

wishful thinking.

it had been three hours since that ordeal and two since rafe had gone to sleep. in those two hours, you'd tossed and turned, secretly hoping it would wake rafe up. apparently, you hadn't lost the attitude, even if the day was over.

as you rolled over again to face rafe, you caved. you trailed your hand up his bare chest.

"rafe?" you whispered softly. you waited a moment, watching as he remained unbothered and peaceful. damn him.

as your arousal built and your panties got wetter, you got more desperate. you slipped your leg over his hip, trying to wedge yourself as close as possible to him.

"rafe!" you pleaded for him to wake up. this time, a groan echoed throughout the room. his hand slipped up your leg, resting on your ass right below your tiny shorts.

"still got a fucking attitude," he grumbled in annoyance. you whined causing him to grip onto you tighter. finally opening his eyes, rafe glared at you.

"what do you want? huh?" rafe asked meanly. you pouted up at him as you began placing soft pecks against his bare chest, slowly making your way up his neck.

you shift until your straddling rafe’s hips, his hand still tucked possessively under your shorts. you whine when your hips shift against his as you lean down to his ear.

“need you, rafe,” you tell him quietly, kissing his cheek slowly. rafe groans.

“huh uh. been such a bitch to me lately. for no reason. not gonna reward you for your bad fucking behavior,” rafe scolds you tiredly. anger rises in you as you sit up. crossing your arms over your chest, you glare at him.

“well, maybe, i wouldn’t be acting like such a bitch if you fucked me good-“ you start to blame him. it’s a lie you don’t get to finish because rafe cuts you off.

“i dare you to finish that fucking sentence. if i wasn’t fucking you good enough, you wouldn’t be waking me up right now. wouldn’t be rubbing that wet pussy against my fucking cock, begging me to fuck you to sleep. such a fucking needy brat,” rafe hisses, slapping your ass roughly. you gape at him, half shocked half angered, because he’s right.

“you’re being mean!” you nearly yell at him. you try to grind yourself against him again but rafe holds your hips still for a minute before shoving you off of him.

“rafe!” you yelp as you tumble back to your side of the bed. rafe is quick to pounce on you, pressing your chest firmly into the mattress. his legs barricade your thighs, and you can feel his half hard cock against your ass. your hips lift, but rafe shoved them back down.

“wanna get fucked? hm? that gonna fix that fucking attitude? fine. i’ll fuck you. i'll make you feel good so that maybe next time, you’ll use your fucking words instead of bitching and whining all goddamn day,” rafe grits out as he rips your shorts down your legs. you gasp once at the cold air hitting your bare cunt, then again when rafe shoves your shirt up and yanks it over your head.

“rafe!” you yelp when rafe moves himself just enough to yank your hips up and give your dripping pussy a harsh slap.

“quit. start complaining and i’ll have to stuff that throat. you’ll take what i give you, brat,” rafe grunts, slapping your wetness again. pouting, you nod anyways.

rafe’s fingers linger near your clit, and it’s an effort to not grind yourself against his thick fingers. the bedsheets are wrinkled in your hands as you try to calm your breathing and keep your attitude in check. the temptation is there, but you refrain from begging him for something. anything.

finally, rafe sinks two of his fingers into you. a soft moan echoes out of your lips as your eyes flutter shut. before you can relish in the feeling for too long, rafe stops. he keeps his fingers buried inside you, but he doesn’t move. you wait. nothing. lifting yourself up, you turn to face rafe. your breath hitches when your movement causes his fingers to shift.

“rafe? please do something,” you beg him softly, mind reeling with need. at this point, you don’t care about keeping up the attitude. the need for his cock to be buried in you is too much to resist.

“oh, now that i’ve got my fingers in you, you’ll be nice? hm? i wanted to spend all night in this fucking pussy, but that fucking attitude…” rafe trails off, watching the way you shift your hips slightly, trying to thrust against his fingers.

“i’ll be better. promise, rafe,” you mumble when you notice the way he’s staring so intently at your exposed core. rafe thrusts his fingers a few times, watching as you match him with your own thrusts.

“you gonna work for it?” he mumbles. your hips falter but not from pleasure. you wanted rafe to do the work. wanted rafe to put you in your place. not make you do all the work even if it is your orgasm at stake here. rafe notices your hesitation and laughs darkly.

“no, i guess you wouldn’t. need me to do all the work to make sure you feel good. ain’t that right?” rafe teases. you open your mouth to respond, but he stops you. 

"if the next words out of your mouth aren't thank you, rafe, then don't say anything," rafe grunts as he pushes his fingers further into your cunt.

"thank you, rafe!" you gasp, lifting your hips slightly in an attempt to meet his thrusts.

"that's it, baby," rafe hums under his breath. your eyes snap shut when rafe's thumb starts toying with your needy clit. a whine rumbles from your throat as you tilt your head, trying to bury your sounds into the mattress. rafe grips your hair, tilting your head back until he can hear you better.

"don't fucking hide from me. you been begging for this," rafe snaps. his fingers slip out of you unexpectedly. you cry out, eyes snapping open as you look back at him. the pout on your face mixed with the pleading look in your eyes almost has him apologizing even if you deserve his meanness.

"need you, rafe," you whine, lifting your hips again. this time, rafe lets you grind your exposed pussy against his covered cock. your fingers ache, white knuckling the sheets under you. rafe's heavy hand is gripping your stuttering hips, and you can hear the breathy moans he's letting out.

"fuck, baby," rafe grunts. he stops your hips again, and you almost push him off of you, so you can finish the job yourself. you refrain though because an orgasm by yourself? wonderful. an orgasm given to you by rafe? fucking heavenly.

"rafe, please," you whine. rafe mumbles something along the lines of fucking impatient, but you ignore him, too focused on finding release.

you almost beg him again, but then rafe is slipping his hardened cock into you. you gnaw on your lip as he settles fully inside your aching walls.

this might be heaven, you think as rafe leans down to kiss your jaw. the action is a complete one eighty from his previous, but you don't object to it. you sigh in relief when he finally starts pumping his cock into you, slowly at first.

then, he's bottoming out repeatedly until your gasping for a single fucking breath. you grip at his arm beside your head, but rafe moves it out of your grasp before gripping your hand in his. your eyes lull shut as rafe continues to prove you wrong.

he had never been bad at fucking you, but you have always had an attitude problem.

rafe readjusts, lowering himself until his mouth is directly beside your ear.

"this what you wanted?" rafe asks quietly, slowing his thrusts while he deepens them. you nod, mind going blank when rafe slips his arm around you. he settles his bicep under your throat, effectively putting you in a headlock as he slips deeper into you.

"fuck, rafe. thank you," you pant. his hand leaves yours to rub at your clit. you moan out, your orgasm approaching. rafe fucks you through it, only using the slick to further your pleasure. you grip at rafe's bicep when he doesn't stop, even after you've cum.

"rafe, i can't-"

"you will," rafe interrupts. his voice is rough when he says it, and you almost beg him to keep going. he must have hear the thought because he doesn't slow down, continuing to fuck you even as you tremble under him. you try to push your hips further into the mattress, but rafe follows you. your eyes roll back in pleasure.

your second orgasm approaches faster than the last, and you can't stop the moans falling from your lips. you pry rafe's arm from around your throat. well, you attempt to pry his arm away.

his grip is firm as he finally spills his cum into your cunt. you pant when he finally slows down before fully stopping.

the two of you sit in silence, rafe still holding you tight in his grip. your cheek rests against rafe's bicep as you lay there, finally satisfied after being perpetually horny for the last week.

"thank you, rafe," you pant. rafe hums in acceptance.

"gotta learn how to fucking communicate, baby," rafe mumbles tiredly. you nod against him. rafe settles his weight against you, and it feels so good. so comforting. his cock is still buried comfortably inside you as the two of you drift off.

[snaileer]

Wrong Number? Wrong Answer.

It was the usual deal that the Justice League Dark dealt with… way too often honestly.

Initially, it had been just Wonder Woman, investigating a cult that had attempted to abduct her earlier in the month.

Diana had defeated them. Easily. Of course. But upon questioning them, their reasoning had concerned her.

They had attacked her for a ritual to open the ‘Sarcophagus of Eternal Sleep’, a ritual which required ‘a blade blackened by the ichor of time.’

Once again, she was being targeted for her parentage. Did it ever end?

Of course, she questioned them further, what other ingredients did they need, what artifacts they would be hurting others to create.

A ring carved from the bone of an unfreed slave.

A crown made of lava untouched by human hands.

And sand directly from the pouch of Dream of the Endless themself.

It was an eclectic collection of items.

And yet, they had told her that only the blade remained to be created.

Again, it was concerning.

So Diana left the fools to be taken care of by men’s authorities, and focused on tracking down just what they were doing and if necessary, how to stop it.

After depleting her academic resources, and her connections within with nothing to show, Diana finally called in her friend through the league, Zatanna.

Zatanna had been frazzled by it, showing up in her living room before they’d even finished the call.

Together they tracked down the cult to Gotham… which was also a problem.

It was the reason why Diana was running through the caves beneath the crime ridden city with one of her closest friends in men’s world and a magician by her side.

All too quickly, they were surrounded by fanatics, each carrying sharp blades solely focused on her.

Working in sync with Batman and Zatanna throwing spells above them, Diana believed it would be a well-won battle.

Until a golden light flashed across the cave, blinding her for a precious second as she felt a sharp sting cut across her arm.

When her vision cleared, her arm was dripping blood and John Constantine stood in front of her.

“Sorry about that, love,” Constantine smirks, “No harm done?”

Diana’s teeth grind together as she turns away from him, fighting her way through more followers. The one who had injured her is nowhere to be seen, and the blade with them.

Even once the rest of the swarm is beaten, their numbers no longer being replenished, Diana does not feel content. The sense of danger lingers.

“Constantine.” Batman growls, “What are you doing in Gotham?”

The Brit rolls his eyes as he lights a new cigarette, “You know I don’t actually have to tell you every time I enter the city right? But besides, that’s news to me, portals are a tricky business, I’m tracking my own problem.”

Batman glares at him.

“Someone stole from me mate. And whatever they stole it for can’t be good, so I’m here ta get it back. Thought you’d be proud of something like that, Batsy, insteada leavin’ it for someone else?”

Batman’s eyes darken, “We’re tracking a group trying to open the Sarcophagus of Eternal Sleep, is your artifact related to that?”

“Fucking shit it is yeah! Bollocks I didn’t think they’d be using the dream sand for something like that, what sort of mannies are these?!” Constantine exclaims, hastily grinding his cigarette beneath his shoe.

“Hn.”

Suddenly, there’s a rattling boom, the ground and walls shaking around them as dust rains down and they are all forced into stabilizing stances.

They barely share a glance before all three are running down the hall to the source, Constantine left scrambling to keep up.

The scene they come to is equal parts confusing as it is problematic.

The cultists are each in states of disrepair, crusting on the edges or yelling at their leader. The leader is the first to notice their arrival.

“You! You say you are a child of Zeus and yet your blood does not work! You lie of your ancestry!”

Diana steps forward, “I do not! I am the daughter of Queen Hippolyta and Zeus, grandchild of Kronos! The fault of your magic does not lie with me!”

The leaders face twists, mouth open to shout, but a flash of gold slams into him.

“Z, the book!” Constantine yells, arms outstretched as he flings more spells at the surrounding people, glowing ropes binding each.

“On it! Etativel em dna eht koob!” Zatanna shouts, lifting into the air as a book the leader had been holding flies into her hands.

Immediately she begins turning pages with desperation, “Wohs em eht stsitluc lleps!”

The book flips to a distinct page, and Zatanna’s face drains of color.

“Batman, we need to be careful, this spell looks legitimate, we might still have a risk on our hands.”

Batman hummed, looking at the chalk lines of the summoning circle drawn out before them, drawing Diana to do the same. Looking closely at the artifacts placed at each cardinal direction, including a short dagger with her blood nearly completely dry on the flat of the blade.

Batman moves towards the gathered and bound cultists as both magicians whisper over the spell.

Diana continues to look out on the evidence of the ritual, confusion warring in her.

She lays a hand on the lasso at her side. She knew she had not been lying about her heritage, so then why….

‘A blade blackened by the ichor of time.’

She looks at the bloodied dagger once more. It didn’t make sense, even if they had managed to harm a godly descendent, pure ichor would be gold; and even her blood was simply a humanly deep crimson red, not black; not until it-

Diana lunges towards the knife, fingertips brushing its hilt just as her blood dries a flaky black.

Her body slams into the cave walls in the next second, percussive force rippling through the air.

She crumples to the ground, struggling to lift her head.

White boots pass in front of her eyes.

She watches as they move towards her colleague, her friend, only to be surprised as they stop in front of the cultists instead.

As the air returns to her body, Diana lifts herself up, shaking arms supporting her as the weight of the atmosphere presses down.

She looks at the being, the sight almost making her collapse once more.

Mist curls around its form like a mountain peak, iridescent light glowing near its head, pitch black night covering its body, the pinprick of stars so small you can’t see them straight on, claws like a falcon’s beak: unhidden and meant to tear apart. And more importantly, wrapped around the leaders neck.

““̵̨̮̣̀͊̓Y̷͖̊̒o̸̤͈͍͌̈́͘u̶̗̭̲̍ ̵̬̤̞̀̑ā̴̟r̸̹̝̉e̴̞̦̮͑̍ ̴̣̩̖͑̓͛a̷̮̞͍͊͆͝ ̶͍̀̈́́f̷̖̄ò̸͈̓͝ǫ̷̅̀̔l̶̹̥̹̋͌͠.̴̤̲̈́͋̀”̶̛̫̺̈́”

The voice rattles her heart within her chest. She watches as Batman continues to try and stand.

The cultist struggles against the hand, mumbling screams behind Constantine’s bind. The creature tears it off with one claw.

“We summ-moned-… the king! Pa-pariah-!“

The creatures hand barely twitches, but the cultist breaks off in a scream. She is surprised to note the other cultists react exactly alike. As if linked.

“̵̻͝Ý̷͚o̶͈͝u̷̦̐ ̶̆͜d̶͈̄ǐ̸̢d̵̲̓ ̴͖̽n̴̘̅ȯ̸͍t̵̛̯ ̴̫̐ŝ̵̗u̴̹̇m̶̨͠m̴̡̽o̴̱̐n̵̘͝ ̴̪̈h̴̨̀i̶͝ͅm̸̰͗.̴͍͆”̸͔̔ The creature growls, “À̴̳n̸̛̜d̶͒ͅ ̴̤̃y̸̬͝ǫ̸̒u̵̫͗ ̶̘͛a̴̫̐r̷̠̈e̶͂ͅ ̶͔̋ḽ̶̔ủ̷͜c̷̥̍k̴̲͊ÿ̸̯́ ̶͓́f̷͇͝o̷͎͒ŕ̴͇ ̶͔͝t̶̞̀h̸̲̉ȧ̸̮t̷̩͝.̷͔̍ ̵͙͐I̸͎͌f̶͖͛ ̶̜̇y̵̜͗o̴̩̍ṵ̶͆ ̵̫̈́h̴͛ͅā̴̼d̸̤͆…̵͍̈́i̵͍̐t̸̡̉ ̴̭͂w̷̥̔o̷̟̅u̴̪͂l̸̞̏d̵͚̀ ̵͓̃b̴̢̽e̵̗͠ ̸͕̉m̸̠͆u̶̖͘c̷̯͘h̴̤̎ ̸̥́w̷͚͝o̸͐ͅr̶̦͐s̵̨̿e̸͕͆ ̸̙̑f̴̧̂o̶̱̓ȓ̷̟ ̴̠͗ÿ̸̥́ö̵͜ŭ̶̟.̵͎̉”̶͍̀

The man whimpers under the claws.

"I̴n̷s̵t̴e̷a̵d̸,̶ ̵y̸o̷u̵ ̴g̵o̷t̶ ̷m̸e̸,̴I̴ ̶g̵u̸a̷r̶d̴ ̶h̶i̷s̵ ̶p̸r̸i̵s̵o̵n̶ ̶b̶e̷c̴a̷u̴s̶e̸ ̵I w̴a̸s̴ ̵t̴h̸e̷ ̸o̴n̸e̴ ̷t̸o̶ ̶p̵u̴t̵ ̴h̸i̴m̶ ̵t̴h̷e̸r̶e̴ ̵o̶n̵c̸e̵ ̶m̶o̸r̸e̸.̵”̴ The creature leans into the cultist, arching ever higher, angles sharpening, body distorting, "“̸̝͋a̵̱͋n̶͓͛d̵̘́ ̵̡̍f̷̱͊o̵͚̓r̷̪̎ ̴̭̑a̷̬̓s̷͙̅ ̷͍͌ĺ̵̫o̸̻͆ņ̵̀g̶̚ͅ ̷̬͌a̶̮̿s̵̩͊ ̸̫̌t̸̲̕h̸̢̉e̷̖͗ ̴̰̋c̸̹̀ȍ̸͎s̷̡̃m̵̥̍o̷̜͋s̷̗͐ ̴̜͆e̷̛̙x̸͓̑i̶͉̿s̸̹̀t̵̛̺,̴̡͠Í̷̢ ̷̣̽w̵̠͋i̶̺͒l̴̠͐l̸̮̃ ̴͍͌k̴̰̑e̸̠͐e̷̟͋p̵̲̏ ̸̙̂h̷̘͋ị̸́m̸͕̚ ̶̳̋t̶̡̒h̷̩͆e̷̪͝r̷̒͜e̵̡̔.̵̭͗”̵̮̔

There’s a dull flash as light flashes beneath the cultists skin, beneath all of the cultist’s skin, before they drop to the ground unconscious.

All too quickly, air returns to the room, pressure lifting like a deep breath into the room.

The creature turns, eyes meeting Diana’s for just a second as he turns towards the chalked lines of the circle. Diana lifts herself to her feet, drawing closer to Batman as they both watch him, hesitant.

On the other side of the room, Constantine and Zatanna also struggle to their feet, eyes filled with fear and caution as they take in the scene.

As the creature moves, mist still rolling off him in waves, his features fall away with it, gradually smoothing to a more human visage. It looks… young. Boyish.

Those same white boots crush down on the formed crown, the cooled lava rock crumbling under one step. Next is the ring, held carefully in two hands the creature whispers over it, breathy wind carrying it away as it turns to dust. He holds the blade with one hand, flakes disintegrating off as he lifts it.

Diana’s arm tingles.

Then the creature is standing in front of the last point, holding the small brown pouch of sand with consideration.

Silence reigns in the room.

Constantine, of course, is the one to break it.

“I believe that’s mine, mate,” he cuts in, stance still laden with suspicion.

“Oh?” The creature smiles, almost mockingly as he turns to Constantine, “Is it? If I wasn’t mistaken, this ritual calls for Dream’s sand. Are you Dream of the Endless, little magician?”

Constantine visibly swallows, “I’m not.”

The creature huffs a laugh, fangs glinting in his smirk. He moves swiftly, pivoting on one foot to toss the pouch at Constantine, “Catch.”

Constantine lurches forward to try and catch it, only to find it vanish in the air before it reaches his fingers.

The creature cackles, floating backwards, “What did you do to get your hands on such an amount of Dream’s sand, magician? I’m curious.”

“It was a family present,” Constantine grinds out as he turns back to the gently levitating humanoid form, “You can drop the kid facade by the way, you’re not tricking anyone here looking like that.”

The creature shrugs, “And if I’m comfortable like this?”

Diana steps in to stop Constantine from snapping back, “Who are you, spirit, to be summoned by such a ritual?”

The creature watches her for a beat, “I am Phantom of the Dead City, Protector of infinite realms. They did not bring me here, but I knew who they wished to summon and came because of it.”

Batman steps forward, voice interrogating, “The Sarcophagus of Eternal Sleep-“

“Remains sealed. The Tyrant King remains trapped and at rest, do not worry.”

Somehow Diana does not think that soothes Batman, even as a great a warrior as he is.

“Hn.”

“Now, about that spell book,” Phantom turns to Zatanna, waving a hand and the book flies to him. He hovers a hand over it, and Diana watches in fascination as the chalk on the floor begins to burn away, the drawing in the book following.

Phantom looks at her once more, eyes too wise and strong for the age of his face, and then from one moment to the next, he is gone.

The book drops to the floor with a slam, cover open to aged blank pages as the last of the sigil burns away.

Hesitantly, Constantine goes to it, the rest of them following. When Constantine lifts the book with careful hands, they watch another image fade into view on the paper.

A cool colored image of Phantom rising over a city skyline outlined in green against a deep violet sky. Even on paper, his visage shifts constantly between the boyish figure and the ethereal danger of the form he’d appeared in.

Beneath the city lays a large coffin covered in chains.

The lock glows a pulsing toxic green before fading to a steely gunmetal grey and going still.

“Well that was the best encounter I’ve had with a dangerous dimensional figure and I still lost the dream sand.”

Zatanna’s slap echoes in the cave.