#I have a whole comic of them and Long Quiet in my head. but I haven’t even figured out their anatomy yet!!! (uuuuuurrrrrrggggghhhhh)

[salty-an-disco]

Stranger so friggin’ cool, wanna draw them in all kinds of Situations, but the anatomy so difficult to figure out and draw aaaaaaaaahhhhhh

[dinogoofymutated]

First born Headcannons! Multi/Fem!Afab! Reader - Angel, Colossus, Nightcrawler, Gambit OKAY FUCK I don't know what came over me it just happened okay??? This whole thing started thinkin about colossus and a lil baby and then I was thinking about Warren taking the nightshift with his own baby and I spiraled from there. Warren's is like twice as long as everyone elses my bad yall. If there are any typos don't make fun of me ill fix them tomorrow I'm so tired lol TWs: Childbirth mentioned (Not described tho), Babies, wholesome shit. I know that some of these characters have had kids in the comics and that these hcs may be ooc, but I do not care lol. Little bit of anxiety and panic, but everything is okay.

Warren Worthington

Warren is such a dad. I don't even know how to describe it. Like, he's not as effortlessly fatherly like Piotr is, but once he has a kid he's devoted to making sure this kid gets all the emotional, physical, and financial support they would ever need.

He had such a rocky childhood with his own dad, so he hates the idea of his child ever going through the same sort of thing.

He might be a little clueless with the actual baby things, like when to feed, how to dress, and what to feed his little one, but he does take diaper duty as his sole purpose in life. He does adjust for the things he lacks though, and gradually adjusts to be better at them!

He's strangely good with babies, even before he had his own! There's just something about him that makes them stop crying. He's also an expert at nap times.

    It’s an early weekday afternoon. The sun is shining through the blinds in warm golden rays, the sink clean and the dishwasher running. There’s a click once the message on the answering machine stops playing, and you have an uncertain frown on your face as you take it all in.

    The house is silent, brightly decorated with pictures of your close friends lining the walls of the hallway. The sounds of your husband quietly shushing your infant son gradually become easier to hear when you reach the cracked door of the nursery, pushing it open as quietly as you can.

    Warren’s back is facing you, fluffy wings almost glowing where the sunrays touch his feathers. Your newborn is sleeping in his arms, napping after a lunchtime bottle. He’s bouncing the baby just slightly, and you swear you can see his smile without ever having to see his face. It’s a sweet moment you want to crystalize in your memories. You lean against the doorway, smiling just as bright as you’re sure he is.

    "Hi~" You say sweetly after a moment. You were right. Warren’s happy smile is bright and blinding when he turns to look at you.

    "Hey," He says quickly, lifting your sleeping son so that you can see him better. "Hi Mama, say hi Mama!" Warren whispers as he lifts the baby’s pudgy little hand to wave at you. You can’t help but giggle, walking forward to kiss both of them on their cheeks- your little one not stirring from his nap. You take a breath afterward, leaning against his side as you debate telling him.

    “Something wrong?” Warren asks, one of his wings stretching out to wrap around your side and pull you closer to him. Normally you giggle, but today you bite your lip, unsure.

    "Your dad called." Your words are soft when you say it, and Warren immediately laughs in a way that sounds more like a scoff.

    “His secretary, you mean.” Warren attempts to correct, and his joking tone makes you frown a little, rubbing his upper arm in an attempt to be soothing.

    “No, not her, honey.” Warren stays silent after you say it, his brow furrowing as his face turns into a reflection of confusion and sadness. You can see the conflict as he turns the words over in his head, cooing and shushing your son back to sleep when he starts to stir a little, feeling the atmosphere shift. 

    “...what did he want?” He asks, voice low and quiet.

    “He left a message on the answering machine if you want to listen to it.” You tell him. “He, well… He wants to meet his grandson.” Warren scoffs at that, shaking his head as he starts to pace the room a little. You stand there, grounded as you watch him process the sudden contact.

    “He really said that? After all he’s put me through, he wants to meet our son… What a joke.” You grimace when Warren starts to laugh. He finally stops pacing to gently lay your son back in his crib. He leans against the side with one hand as the other rubs his eyes before it slides up to run through his hair.

    “Do you want him to?” You ask after a moment, stepping over to his side. He leans into your touch when you reach out to hold his cheek.

    “I-” Warren stops himself, taking a deep breath as he takes your hand in his own. “What do you want to do?” He asks instead. You shake your head at him, taking hold of his hand in both of yours, tracing the wedding band on his finger.

    “He’s your dad, love. It’s your choice.” You say softly. Warren is still frowning, and he lets out a long breath, deflating a little bit. He turns around to face you, pressing a kiss to your temple and holding you there for a long moment. You wish you had even a fraction of Jean’s or the Professor’s power, if only you could see what was going on in that head of his. He pulls you into a side hug, and the two of you spend a long while looking at your infant in the crib. The perfect mixture of the both of you. Certain to be a mutant in his own right. You can tell Warren spends every second thinking about it.

    When he steps away from you, He’s silent.

    “Warren?” You call out for him as he leaves the room. You’re about to follow when you hear the distinct sound of your son about to wake up, the little whine catching your attention as you coo him back to sleep instead. The door to the nursery is open, and just faintly down the hall, you hear the sound of the landline starting to ring.

    “Hey, Dad, it’s Warren. Is Saturday okay?”

Piotr Rasputin

GOD this man is so good with kids. I mean, have you seen those comic panels with him and his sister??

This man was made, built, forged to be a dad. He's protective but encouraging, and although he may be blunt, he knows when his kiddo needs some comfort.

He takes all the classes with you during the pregnancy, and he knows he'd never hurt his baby, but there's always a lil bit of worry in the back of his mind. He's a little too strong, and he hates the thought of slipping up and accidentally harming this fragile little soul the two of you brought into this world.

He gains confidence with time, and when the baby arrives he's always carrying them securely on one thick arm, belly down as they sleep soundly against him.

    His baby is so small when they hand her to him in the hospital. She's tiny. Smaller than the width of his arm. He looks like a giant as he holds her, sat next to your bedside as you recover from her delivery. He's in awe as he looks at her, a tiny little life, the greatest gift you've ever given him besides your hand in marriage. 

    You and others had always joked that his baby would be huge, big-headed, 99th percentile, and he never minded it. It was no secret that he was a big man, and he didn't mind what size the baby was as long as it was healthy, and looking at the little bundle of joy in his arms, he decides he wouldn't have it any other way.

    It's almost comical, how small she is. Hell, even you might have doubted the paternity of the baby girl if it hadn't been for her head of pitch-black hair, and pretty blue eyes. Almost a carbon copy of himself.

    “She has your eyes.” You say once her cries quiet down, and she begins to fall asleep in her father's arms.

    “No.” Piotr hums, gingerly touching his daughter's face. “They look much more like Illyana's.” You hadn't thought about that before, but now that he mentions it, the resemblance is undeniable. You giggle at that, Scooting closer so that you can lean on his shoulder.

    “The nurse said that she's waiting outside, when you're ready. I'm sure she's beyond excited to meet her niece.” You mumble. Piotr has placed a finger in the palm of your baby's hand, both of you smiling when the little fingers do their best to try and close around his fingertip. Piotr cannot wait to see the face of his sister when she sees your baby, but he'll be the first to admit, he'd like it if this moment could just last a little while longer.

Kurt wagner

Kurt is such a good dad oh my god.

He's always talking about you and the kids, bragging about literally everything you do ever. He's the kind of dad that has endless photos of his kiddos in his wallet, car, locker, everywhere.

And he's so devoted, too. He'll do anything you ask him to do during the newborn stage (and after) and is beyond supportive. His goals are happy Spouse, Happy kids, Happy life.

He's also very sentimental :) he thanks god every day for you and the blessing that is your baby.

    Kurt’s side of the bed was empty when you woke up this morning, and despite the normal amount of anxiety you normally feel when that happens, you feel peaceful. You’re smiling at the empty mattress, rolling over to his side to push your face into his pillow, taking a deep breath. Used to, you would be worried. You would wonder where he was, or if he was safe. If he had gone off on some x-men mission without telling you (which he never did). But today, you know exactly where he is. You’re smiling now as you think about it, pressing a kiss to his pillow before standing up.

    There’s a soft humming in the house, quiet and soothing. It’s not hard to figure out where it’s coming from, the path to the spare room having become second nature to you- although, it really wasn’t much of a spare room anymore. You try not to be too loud when you enter the room through the cracked door.

   Kurt is humming sweetly, your son laid out on the changing table as Kurt finishes worming his pudgy little legs through a new onesie. The baby whines a little, squirming around as Kurt attempts to change his clothes. 

    “Patience, Mein kleiner Schatz. This won’t take long.” Kurt says sweetly. Your son isn’t really having this whole changing business, and it makes Kurt chuckle. His tail is wrapped around a bottle of milk, and he sets it to the side right before he snakes his tail over the crib. He brushes the spaded end lovingly over your baby’s cheek as a distraction, and the infant coos as he finishes getting his arms through the sleeves. His tail takes over from there, buttoning the onesie's clasps as he turns to grab the bottle of milk instead- stopping for a split second when he sees you in the doorway. Kurt smiles.

    “How are my boys?” You ask, voice a little rough from sleep.

    “Gut! And lively, it seems.” He tells you. He passes the bottle off to his tail again when you walk over, taking you into his arms as he shakes the formula up a little more. Kurt kisses you sweetly on the lips, pressing his forehead against your own when you separate. 

    “Guten Morgen, Schatz. How are you feeling?” You swear you fall in love with him all over again each day when he greets you like that. You shrug your shoulders in response, smile dropping just a little bit.

    “I’m okay. Still tired, and definitely still bloated, but I’m okay.” You admit. Kurt frowns a little, brushing some hair from your face.

    “Did you see the medicine I left for you on the nightstand?” Kurt asks, and you immediately make a bit of a silly face, remembering that you didn’t exactly get up on your own side of the bed today. Kurt knows what that looks means and begins to laugh, just as your son begins to whimper and whine to be held and fed. You try to go pick him up, but Kurt stops you as he picks your baby up instead, bottle at the ready.

   “Go take your meds, I’ve got him, Liebchen.”

Remy LeBeau

Remy is a little nervous to be a dad.

Not in a flight way!! He's just a little worried that he'll be a bad influence on the kiddo. and well, I mean sure. If you're worried about the kiddo being a little rager and being into a few to many wild hobbies I guess (usually comes with the cajun territory)- but overall, Gambit is such a sweetheart, and if anything his kiddos would be so respectful and loving towards their parents.

Remy's very protective over your baby. The protectiveness is at it's height around 0-3yrs of age, but it never, ever goes away completely.

He might talk some smack about how a little bit of dirt/germs never hurt anyone, but He's actually the kind of dad that makes everyone put germex on before even thinking about holding the baby.

He's on top of feedings, and never fears a blowout when it comes to changing diapers (no matter how much he might gag). He might not have the diaper back stocked and loaded 24/7, but he's doing the best he can.

    When you wake up, It’s about 3am. Your eyes blink oper wearily, and the light from the alarm clock is practically burning into your eyes. You want nothing more to curl up and go back to sleep, and you almost do, until the time actually registers.

    3am. Its 3am, and you went to bed at 10pm. This is the first time you’ve woken up since then. Your veins feel like ice when you realize that you haven't heard the baby cry once. You rip the cover off of you, breaking out in a panicked run across the hall to check on your newborn. You don’t even realize that Remy isn’t even in bed until you slam the door open and see him standing there, your daughter in his arms as he rocks her to sleep in the rocking chair You breathe a sigh of relief as he looks at you with a tired smile, but your anxiety still remains.

    “Remy? Is she okay?” You whisper, practically leaping over to his side to take the little one out of his arms.

    “She’s Okay, Cher.” Remy replies softly. He stands from the chair, wrapping his hands around your back, the infant snug in between your bodies. You sigh again, taking a moment to look at your daughter carefully, eyeing her chest as it rises and falls, and straining your ears to hear her breathing. Remy gives you a second to get situated, yawning just a bit as he sways the three of you as you stand there. You relax as he holds you both, resting your head against his shoulder.

    “Why don’ you go back to bed.” Remy says after a long minute. “That was the longest I’ve seen you sleep in a while.” You frown. He’s not wrong. Your newborn has been a bit colicky lately, crying for nights on end since you brought her home with very few things to keep her comfortable. She has started to grow out of it, but the effects still remained. She cries a lot at nighttime, and it makes you wonder if that’s why you had slept so long, because of Remy staying up to keep her quiet.

    “And leave you here? Remy, how long have you been awake?” You ask, looking up at his face. He shrugs, smiling still as the three of you sway.

    “I’m fine. I can stay up all night if I need to, as long as you get to catch up on some sleep.” If it were any other circumstance, you might have swooned at the words. As sweet is he is, you can’t let him do that! He begins to step away to place your daughter in her crib, and you hold yourself back from trying to take her from him and commanding him to just go to bed.

    “Remy-”

    “Ah ah ah, Cher, don’t wake ma petit, now.” Remy cuts you off with a whisper, turning around to place a finger against his lips in a shushing motion. He almost makes you giggle, but instead, you simply shake your head at him. He pulls you into a loving kiss when he’s close enough, running his hand through your hair. You know he’s waiting for you to pull back, to retreat into the bedroom to sleep like he asked you to, but you’re still hesitant. He knows your stubbornness firsthand and chuckles when he pulls back a little.

    “Do I need to tuck you in, too?”

[hellojusthereforabit-blog]

Past Lives Pt. 1 - Bucky Barnes.

Time - travel. Angst. Unrequited love. Fluff. Ft. Sam Wilson.

"I think I'm in love with you." Out with it I go. James Buchanan Barnes, the former Winter Soldier, my partner, my teammate, my best friend, stares back at me, unblinking.

You could hear a pin drop fifty miles away if you tried.

I take Bucky's silence as a sign to keep going.

"We've known each other for two years now and, mission to mission, catastrophe after catastrophe, we have had each other's backs," I take a breath. Steady myself.

"It wasn't always easy, and we've had our differences and fair share of disagreements, but there's no one else I want to do this with, Bucky." I sigh, heart frozen in my chest, "You're it for me."

Bucky has the most unique set of eyes I have ever seen. The kind that pulls you in deep, leaves you frozen on the spot and inspires you to quote comically cliche poems at him in hopes of being spared a glance. Truly, Bucky is so beautiful that most days it's hard to look straight at him, but now I choose to face danger head on as I bare my heart out.

Bucky opens his mouth, but it takes him a second to collect himself enough to speak.

"Doll, I…" He's looking away, anywhere but at me, I realize.

My heart clatters inside my ribcage until I'm sure it caught on a fractured bone and exploded.

"Yes?" I say, quiet now, meek. I expected it. After all, Bucky is a go-getter - if he wants a girl, he'll go right after her. I should have known.

I'm so fucking stupid. Always over-estimating my place in other people's lives.

Bucky seems to take in big breath, but I can barely see him. My vision is hazy, blurred. I vaguely sense the burning of my eyes.

"I can't do this, doll," is all he says, "I'm sorry."

How long it takes, for one heart to trust another. How quickly it all shatters, I think.

"I-" Mortifyingly, my lower lip quivers. "Is it me?"

"No! Doll, don't be ridiculous." Bucky corrects quickly, reaching out to caress my cheek with his flesh arm. I realize he must be wiping a stray tear.

"Then why?"

"I'm just - I don't know if I'm ready."

I nod. Try to smile. Step away.

Instinctively, Bucky reaches for me, but his hand falls short at the distance between us and drops to his side instead.

"Are we…going to be okay?" He asks, wincing.

That nails the coffin. I feel my face crumble, so I tilt myself away from the man of my dreams, the man that's breaking my heart. I push through the pain and nod again.

"Dude, yeah, don't even stress it." I whisper, voice hoarse.

Bucky doesn't take the bait, doesn't laugh, just stares at me with big, sad eyes. He reaches a hand out to me again, but I roughly push it out.

"Don't you dare feel bad for me, Barnes. I don't need your pity." I snap, embarrassed.

"Doll, that's not-" he starts, but I cut him off.

"And don't fucking call me that! Don't be so condescending. This whole time I thought there was something here, that I wasn't crazy. You call me sweet names and hold me close after nightmares and look at me the way you do only to not - ." I stop myself, gesturing at the space between us. "If you were just using me for comfort and company, then it's done." I breathe hard.

I know it's not fair to my sweet, gentle Bucky. But laying your heart bare to someone and them pushing it back into your open arms is a different kind of pain. Don't judge until you try it.

Bucky's ocean eyes grow heated. I won't let him speak more, everything's said and done now.

"I'll see you Monday." I say finally, slamming Bucky's apartment door as I leave.

Bucky doesn't call out. Doesn't chase me down the street.

I can't believe I was so fucking stupid. I shake outside of Bucky's apartment complex until I'm sure all the makeup of my face has been wiped clean.

I dial the only other living friend I have left.

"What's up?" Sam's commanding voice is a welcome change from Bucky's soft and apologetic rumble.

I sob into the phone for long enough for Sam to trace my location.

"Oh, kid." He crouches by my slumped form on the floor. "Let's get you up and outta here."

I cling to Cap for dear life.

--

"He's the only man I've ever loved" I tell Sam, nursing the drink in my hand.

Sam stares at me with the sympathy and understanding he only ever reserves for his family - Sarah, and, more recently, Bucky.

He sighs, grimacing into the distance. I realize how this must look for him: his small team of surviving heroes - falling apart at the seams.

"I'm sorry you have to deal with this." I whisper, suddenly captivated by the bubbles fusing at the bottom of my glass.

"Hey," he says gently, head snapping back to me, "You cut that shit out, right now."

"Yes, sir."

"Smartass. You're my friend - I'll do just about anything to ease the pain you're in right now. Hell, I was just looking for a reason to beat Bucky's cyborg ass."

I snort, barely fighting a smile.

"There she is," Sam teases.

Then his face turns somber.

"Can you still work with the guy?" he asks, leaning in. "This mission we got on Monday, it's tough, Y/n."

I look up but don't respond.

In all my drama I overlooked how deep the lines in Sam's forehead had been etched there for a while. I don't remember the last time he relaxed, or even took a break from being Captain America.

"We need all hands on deck," he insists. "Which is just three pairs of hands but it's still something."

I let myself contemplate for a minute longer despite already knowing the answer.

"Yeah, 'course, Sam. I'll be there."

--

To say the atmosphere in the room is tense is a grave understatement.

"So, I'll start," says Sam, taking the lead of the mission brief. He eyes Bucky and me with careful measure. Bucky stares straight ahead, and I try similarly to concentrate on the copy of the files printed and carefully laid out in front of me. In the time that it took me to read and re-read my copy, Bucky kept his untouched.

I pretend not to see the deep dark circles that blossomed under his eyes when we exchanged equally cold "good mornings".

"We're time-traveling, now?" I ask, unamused by the idea in light of recent events.

"This is a very high-profile mission," explains Sam, devoid of his warmth from a few nights ago. This was Captain America speaking.

"There's been a breach at the base - some high-tech equipment from Tony's lab has mysteriously disappeared. We have reason to believe that Tony's time machine has been activated last week, sending one or possibly several armed suspects back into the 40s. The mission is to find and bring them back to this timeline, where they will be dealt with by our laws and regulations without causing more trouble."

"What makes you think they're hiding out in the 40s?" Bucky speaks up for what feels like the first time today. I dig my nails into my clothed thigh, trying hard not to think about how deep and smooth Bucky's voice is.

Bucky is figuratively perfect, it's hard to believe that he's walking around like this without a girl on his arm. Or maybe he already has someone - which would justify him turning me down.

I tell myself it would hurt less if he was already taken.

"I'm not actually sure," says Sam. "That kid - Spiderman - or whatever kids like to call themselves these days - pretty much handles all of Stark's leftover equipment and labs. He says that's where they're at." Sam finishes with a shrug.

"So, let me get this straight," I clear my throat. "You want us to undergo this incredibly dangerous mission in completely uncharted territory just because some kid's got a hunch?"

From the corner of my eye, I can almost see Bucky nodding along with my words, equally displeased.

"It's not uncharted - our team has done this before to bring everybody back." argues Sam.

"And how many of them came back?" I snap, remembering red hair. Ballerina slippers. Knowing green eyes.

I feel both men flinch beside me.

"That was different." rumbles Bucky from the far end of the table.

That wound is too fresh, too deep.

"Don't." I retort. "My best friend didn't die just for us to use that goddamn machine like a toy." Of course, we all know who I'm talking about. Plus, Yelena will kick both of their asses if she hears about this, which makes me wonder if that's why she isn't included in this mission.

"Not us," Sam quips.

"What was that?"

"Not "us"," Sam repeats again, voice loud and clear the second time. "Just you."

"Absolutely not." Bucky interrupts, sitting up and fixating Sam with a glare harboring the force of a thousand suns.

Sam ignores Bucky, taking a seat across from me, "I can't go, things are still too tender for me to just disappear for days on end. They'll appoint a new Captain America and storm in to put us all in prison again if they think we're weak," he goes on, taking a gentle hold of my other arm extended across the table.

"Bucky would get recognized by someone within minutes, it's too complicated." Sam continues.

"Sam," Bucky warns from the other end of the room.

"You're our only option." Sam finishes with another sigh. He did that a lot lately, I noted.

"It's not happening. Y/n, tell him you're not going to do it." Bucky's authoritative voice echoes around the conference room. A sense of urgency I can't begin to analyze is there too.

I contemplate.

"Y/N." Bucky speaks again, something that was beginning to get on my nerves.

"How dangerous is this equipment again?" I ask Sam, ignoring the forceful sigh from the other end of the room. I didn't care what Bucky thought about me in that moment. Who was he to choose for me, anyway?

"I wouldn't be asking if it wasn't serious." Sam affirms. I know this too, Sam is above all things reliable.

"Well, let's see," I pretend to draw a score board in the air with my finger, "In the event of my death, my family will be heavily compensated. That's one." I shrug.

Bucky's chair scrapes against the floor as he crosses the room to where Sam and I are sitting. "Tell me you're not actually considering this."

Under different circumstances I would have believed that he was pleading.

"I've got nothing to do this week and no one waiting for me at home. Two and three," I drop two more points in the imaginary "pros" side of the board.

"Guess I'm in." I flash Sam my signature grin, one he did not return.

"Y/N, No." Bucky orders.

"No one's talking to you!" I snap, whipping my head around to face him directly for the first time today.

He had let a strong stubble grow over the weekend and now looked disheveled on the whole - I quickly push away thoughts of him waking from nightmares, alone and shivering, too stubborn to call me.

His gorgeous blue eyes widen and freeze over as he takes a step toward me.

"Are you doing this to get back at me?"

"Not everything's about you, Barnes." I say, "Sam, I'm in. Let's fuckin' do this."

--

Let me know what you think & if you want pt2 with 40s Bucky :)

[nahla-art]

Took me over a month but I finally finished working on this comic based on a scene from The Penguin And The Peacock!

original text under cut

Oswald quickly found himself overwhelmed with the party and once he found an opening he slipped away to the back alley for a smoke. 

He admired the cane as he smoked, and took peace in the chill Gotham air and the quiet that surrounded it. There was a certain sense of emptiness that hung heavy in the air, and he let it settle over his shoulder. He may have been a king, but Gotham was a god, and he bent to her commands.

“ Long and elegant, she settles comfortably between your hands. You share a kiss, and she leaves your lips ashen-cold. You chase her for a second, knowing that she’d drop poison into your chest.” A voice spoke up somewhere close, and Oswald felt air stolen from his chest. 

He turned around sharply and spoke softly, “ A cigarette.” 

Edward Nygma stood at the end of the alley in a bright green suit. His presence overwhelmed the city. As The Riddler’s heavy footfalls shrunk the distance between them, Oswald made out more of his physique. Wild unkempt hair shone under the blue iceberg lights, and purple bruises dotted his cheekbone. Oswald wanted to reach out and touch his cheek. He wanted Edward to hiss at the contact but lean into his palm regardless. Every cell in his being called out to him, and all he could do was hold onto his cane so he wouldn’t fall over.

“ You’re out,” Edward said, close but not close enough.

Oswald swallowed, pushing the cigarette into the wall, afraid he’d burn his fingers, “ I’m out.” 

Edward didn’t look at him, not really, “ You had a fun stay.” 

“ I managed,” Oswald said, slight irritation building under his skin,  “ You’ve had a busy schedule.” 

“ I made my presence known as The Riddler, as you made yours as The Penguin.” 

Oswald said nothing, not really sure what to say. His mind screeched.

Edward opened up his palm, angling his head at the cane. Oswald wordlessly handed it over, mind getting stuck on the slight brush of their fingers.

Edward whistled, hands tracing the dents and the scratches, “ The late Don Falcone kept it in his manor, did you know that? “ 

“ I didn’t,” Oswald said, words small and breath too shallow. 

“ You took your revenge from him, and from Sofia, Etchison, Dent, and Ogilvy,” Edward said, hands on the cane, “ Even the landlord that insulted your mother once suffered for her sin,” 

Something felt off. Something felt cold. Oswald couldn’t look at him. 

“ You’re a funny one, Mr Cobblepot,” Edward said, looming over him, “ You cast judgment. You carry out punishment. For your mother’s death, you burned Gotham to the ground.  You blamed Don Falcone, you blamed Sofia, you blamed the city but you didn’t think to blame yourself— Oomf!”

Oswald pushed Edward to the wall. His whole body shook with the act, and he clenched his teeth as his eyes and Edward’s finally met.

He never knew brown could look so cold.

He held Edward’s collar and glared at him, “ I’m not sure what game you’re playing, Riddler, but you’re crossing the line there.” 

Edward smiled, empty, “ Now? Now I’ve crossed a line? After all I’ve done to you? “ Edward’d thumb traced the scar stretching under Oswald’s right eye, and the latter flinched, “ I hurt you, Penguin, I took away the kingdom you built with your blood and sweat. I turned your friends against you. I caged you in the deepest cycle in hell.” 

Oswald’s mind reeled in mixed confusion and anger. He pushed His fist against Edward’s chest. The other man’s hand fell to his shoulder and down to his coat. Oswald didn’t stop him, because despite it all he trusted him. Edward’s hand slipped into his inside pocket and swiftly pulled out Oswald’s pocket knife. With a click, he opened it and placed the handle into Oswald’s palm while the blade’s tip touched Edward’s abdomen.

It was only then that Oswald stopped him. He let go of Edward’s shirt and held his wrist instead to stop whatever this was. Edward’s other hand clasped over his. They held hands, warm in the coldness of it all, even with the blade settled between them.

“ You burned half of Dent’s face. You took Sofia’s family. You destroyed Ogilvy— Everyone who hurt you met their punishment” Edward said softly, pulling the blade towards him. It wouldn’t be enough to spill his guts, but Oswald couldn’t help but imagine all the blood and gore.

“ Almost everyone,” Edward was close enough, his breath felt warm, “ Almost. ”

“I—“ Oswald stammered, as his hand shook. He could kill him. He could kill Edward, “ What are you—“ 

“ Do it.” Edward said firmly, hands gripping Oswald’s with hurtful tightness, “ Oswald. ” 

Oswald breathed, in and out, “ You want me to— You want me to kill you?” 

Edward didn’t answer, or move. It felt like the very air turned to ice.

Oswald tried to pull his hand away, but Edward’s hold was firm. Now that the anger in his chest subsided and was replaced with worry, Oswald noticed how much Edward shook against him. He breathed heavily, and his stomach expanded against Oswald’s knuckles.

“ Edward?” Oswald asked softly. Edward lowered his eyes, biting his lips as he held onto Oswald, “ Eddie. What— what are you doing?” 

“ You have to kill me.” Edward said, broken, “ Please, Oswald. I can’t—”

“ I—”

“ Is this my punishment?” Edward asked, voice small, “ For you to not spare a glance?”

“ I don’t understand what you’re saying—“ 

Edward took a deep breath, hands shaking, “ It’s driving me nuts! I’m not sure what you’re going to do. How you’re going to … Punish me. Maybe this is it— You’re tormenting me with my own mind, but I want it to end. I want to stop thinking. For the sake of our friendship, be kind to me.” 

“ Edward I’m not punishing you,” Oswald said shakily, taking advantage of Edward’s small moment of weakness to step away, “ I’m not— there is no punishment for you. “

Edward blinked, “ What are you— This doesn’t make any sense. You have to punish me.”

“ but I don’t want to.”

“ Why?” Edward pulled him in again, bringing the knife to his throat, “ Stop this. Please I’m— I don’t. Oswald please .”  

“ I love you.” Oswald said softly, “ It’s- that’s why. I love you. You’re forgiven.” 

” You’re lying.”

“ I’m not.” 

“ This is cruel,” Edward’s breath hitched, “ You’re—“ 

“ I loved you for long,” Oswald titled his hand, the one holding the knife, so he could wipe Edward’s tears without hurting him, “ I loved you even before we met.” 

“ How is that possible?” 

“ I was born with a hole in my heart that fits your measurements. I longed for you before I could breathe.” 

“ Stop— Stop it.” Edward gritted his teeth, “ You can’t lie to me.”

“ I’m not lying.” 

“ Then prove it.” 

Oswald took a moment to settle his nerves and look at Edward. His nose grew red and runny whenever he cried. His eyes were wide and swollen. There were hints of crow's feet at their corners. He couldn’t fathom how someone so divine could believe himself unlovable. He couldn’t fathom how he dared to plant that belief into him.

“ I thought you were charming the day we met.” He said softly, smiling at the memory.

“ You called me funny.”  Edward sniffled.

“ and I meant it,” Oswald said firmly,  “ No one made me laugh as much as you did. When you worked at the Gazette, you made the crosswords and wrote the trivia section. I was slow, but I tried to solve every puzzle, and I laughed at every pun you hid in the text. I remember the title of every article you wrote there.

Edward stammered, “ That’s a lie. No one liked those. No one could—-“

“ Trains. Parakeets. Beach balls. Strawberries.” Oswald listed in a whisper, a shared secret, “ Cotton, Trains again, Security systems. Lock picks. Lungs. Circles. Trains. You’ve written about trains 15 times. I found it endearing.” 

“ You’re just —“ Edward said, running out of breath, “ You’re just listing words. You- you memorized that just to convince me.” 

“ Why would I want to convince you? ” 

“ To punish me? To use me? ” 

“ I’m not pushing you!” Oswald groaned. He noticed the pocket knife between them and he wanted it gone. He threw it to the side and stepped back. He needed to breathe. 

“ I don’t want to manipulate you, or use you—I don’t want to do any of that.” 

“ You—“ Edward tugged at his hair, stepping towards him, “ What are you doing?” 

“ You insisted that I offer reasoning, and it is here.” Oswald huffed, throwing up his hands in frustration, “Edward Nygma, I don’t know what you’re trying to do. Why did you send that riddle to my hospital room?”

“ What are you talking about?” Edward frowned in genuine confusion.

“ I know that you sent the lawyers. I don’t know why you’re pretending that you don’t care, but I know it was you who sent them.”

“ How could you—“ 

“ You left a riddle!” Oswald said, “ In a green envelope! Even an idiot would know who it was.”

Edward looked small in a second, and his voice was even smaller as he said, “ I left a riddle?”

Oswald felt himself quiet down, “ You didn’t know?” 

Edward shook his head frantically. He scratched the inside of his wrist roughly, and Oswald wanted to stop him, but he was worried that anything he’d do would hurt him further.

“ You drive me insane, do you know that?” The alleyway was narrow. Edward was in front of him in an instant, hands clenched by his side,” You break me apart.” 

“ You asked me, Edward,” Oswald said shakily, backing away, “ You asked me to prove it to you.”  

Edward groaned loudly and pushed him to the wall. He held Oswald’s collar, and his knuckles brushed Oswald’s neck.

“ Threads.” Oswald fumbled, needing him to come closer “ Orange trees. Batteries—“ 

“ You delve between my bones, Oswald,” Edward’s voice grew low and quiet, “ You keep wrecking me from the inside and I—“ 

Oswald took in a deep shaky breath, “ S-Skeletons, signals, telephones, trains again. Really, Edward, what is your deal with trains—”

In a split second, the impossible distance between them was shrunk to nothing. Edward’s lips met his with overwhelming starvation. Oswald’s stomach flipped as he pushed against him to match him. A hand dug into Edward’s side while the other held the back of his neck. Edward huffed and Oswald repositioned their heads for a better angle, to drive them deeper into the avalanche.

“ Textbooks. The Amazon forest. Pyramids, frogs.” 

Oswald continued his list whenever they paused for breath. Each kiss grew more rough and desperate, and when Edward whimpered against him and shivered all over, they grew softer and slower. Soon enough, Oswald found himself in a broken heap on the floor, holding Edward tightly and kissing his head as the latter sobbed into his chest. Oswald rubbed Edward’s back as he bit his lips to cage his own mourning.

“ I’m—” Edward’s voice broke off, “ You’re cruel, Oswald.”

“ I’m sorry—“ Oswald said, pulling away to hold Edward’s face in his hand, “ I’m sorry— I— I broke you. Didn’t I? You’re broken. ” 

Edward sniffed, his chest shuddered. 

[strwbrythoughts]

no stopping a man in love | alhaitham

In which the traveler and Paimon catches Alhaitham indulging in something unexpected.

A/N: I might as well make this whole blog dedicated to Alhaitham because man's got my heart in a chokehold :(

Divider by @/osqrie

The House of Daena was filled with the sounds of pages turned over and the quick footsteps of the students flitting from one bookcase to another. Furrowed eyebrows and downturned lips decorated each of their faces. The librarian seemed stressed out to navigate the flurry of students and assist them in finding books. Even a stranger could tell the obvious; examination season was right around the corner.

Alhaitham, the ex-Acting Grand Sage and current Scribe of the Akademiya, had his eyes glued onto his surroundings. Though his expression remained neutral, he couldn't deny the feeling of annoyance building up inside him. The library was way too noisy to be called one. It was a good thing that he was enjoying his read so far. Though, the choice of reading fiction was something that not a lot of people would expect from him.

Yes, he had a book titled "The Genius Falls in Love!" nestled in his hands.

He didn't really catch the eye of anyone. After all, it wasn't weird that the Scribe would spend his day in the library instead of his office. His work hours were long but he never really complied to them. That was something that the students were mighty jealous of. What they didn't know, however, was that his work was always submitted on time with the highest quality. A trait that most of them could only hope to achieve.

Alhaitham put on his noise-cancelling earphones. His eyes relaxed slightly as he could focus better on the book in his hand. He was already on chapter 22. An impressive amount of reading, given that he only received the book that morning.

His body rested fully onto the chair he sat on. He closed his eyes, remembering the sweet smile his wife gave him as she handed him the book.

'Here, honey!' she exclaimed, shoving a book into his hands. 'If you miss me at work, read this book I wrote! And tell me how it went, yeah?'

From the moment he stepped out of their shared house, he flipped the book open. 'Ridiculous,' he thought to himself. 'I always miss you when you're not by my side.'

And so off he went. He finished all the work he deemed urgent enough on that day, before immediately going back to reading. It was quite the comical sight, really. The stoic genius reading a fictional book? A romance, at that? Impossible. Utterly ridiculous.

And yet, here he was.

The work day passed by so quickly when he spent it reading. Before he knew it, the librarian came over to his spot and told him that the library was closing. Alhaitham immediately got up and left to go home.

--

The walk back was quiet and peaceful enough. The mere sight of his wife's face as she greeted him at the door was enough to make a smile appear on his face, no matter how slight.

"Honey! How was work today? What did you eat during lunch? Did you have time to read my book?" It was expected that his wife would bombard him with questions the moment he came home. However, she was special in every way. For instance, he would always answer each question she had calmly, no matter how frequent or stupid they may be.

"I'm back. Work was completed like usual today. I ate the lunch you prepared for me, and I'm halfway through your book, my dear."

His wife giggled at the thought of her husband taking some time out of his busy day to read her work. What she didn't know was that his day was scheduled around her, and never around anything else.

Until the traveler and Paimon had some interesting news to bring to her.

--

"Traveler, look! Is Alhaitham reading...a romance?"

Paimon's voice bounced off the walls of the House of Daena. She had successfully captured the eyes of many students, causing the traveler to put their hand over their head. Perhaps to block a headache induced by her lack of realisation that they were in the library.

Paimon's hands flew over her mouth right after the words were uttered. Her eyes seemed apologetic enough, darting over to the traveler as a silent apology. The traveler merely shot her an awkward smile.

It was a good thing that Alhaitham himself did not pay them any mind. The way his ears perked up slightly showed that he indeed heard Paimon, but perhaps chose to ignore them. However, the eyes glued to his person was quite bothersome, even for someone as stoic as him.

He shut the book in his hands quite loudly, hinting his irritation at Paimon. She only gulped and shot a panicked expression at the traveler, who deadpanned at her. The both of them stood still as they heard Alhaitham's footsteps approach them. He was getting closer and closer with each thud of his footsteps.

"I would appreciate if you did not point out whatever business unrelated to you." His voice was calm, just like his expression. His eyes told a different story all together. The traveler's flying companion could only apologise repeatedly, while the traveler shot him an apologetic smile.

After a few seconds of awkward silence between the trio, the Scribe walked away from the both of them. His right hand carried the romance book he was reading quite delicately, as if it was his most precious treasure. And it truly was.

Anything related to his wife was a treasure to him, and he would never forgive himself if he failed to appreciate even the simplest things about her.

--

"...and that was it! He seemed really annoyed that the Akademiya students were looking at him curiously." Paimon ended her story to Alhaitham's wife. She merely chuckled at the tale.

"Of course he was. He dislikes people getting into his business after all."

"Are you sure he isn't acting like that because he's embarrassed about getting caught reading something so...unexpected, of him?" The traveler furrowed their eyebrows as their companion asked such question with no hesitation. She really needed to learn to read the room sometimes.

Before she could answer, Alhaitham embraced his wife from behind. His eyes were calm, as if having his wife in his arms was all it took to make him feel tranquil.

"Do you really think I'd be reading such book in public if I were to be 'embarrassed' about it? Moreover, how could my lovely wife ever make me feel embarrassed?"

That was more than enough of an answer for the traveler and Paimon. They smiled sweetly at the response. The smiles were short lived, however, as Alhaitham sent them both out of his house, wanting to be alone with his wife.

Ah, well. There's no stopping a man in love, is there?

Thank you for reading! <3

[katyaromanoffpetrova]

Inked surprises

What's better than getting tattoos? Surprising your wife with them!

• Natasha Romanoff x Fem!OC • Wordcount: 1.4k • Warnings: vague mention of SH scars This is part of my series where I post small scenes I've written over the years that have never seen the light of day. Masterlist

Do not repost my work as your own or translate my work!!

2028

The house was quiet, the bedroom semi-dark. Katya stood at the end of the bed in her pajamas, twisting the cap on the tube of tattoo cream. 

Her body vibrated with excitement. Way too much to sleep. The whole afternoon, she'd anticipated showing her wife what she'd really been doing in town today. It was a miracle she didn't blurt it out earlier, especially with the knowledge that Natasha would absolutely love the surprise, but she had an idea in mind and she wanted to execute it exactly the way she imagined. It was cheesy, but romantic, and would make it a million times better than if she were to simply take off her shirt.

Natasha just came out of the bathroom now, tying off the end of her braid. Her face glowed with the moisture of her skincare, and her presence brought along the smell of vanilla. Katya quickly tossed the tube of cream on the bed, trying to act casual as she smiled, but the movement caught Natasha's sharp eye. 

She stopped in her tracks. ''Is that…'' Her gaze flickered from the tube, to Katya's smug face, back to the tube, and then back to Katya's even smugger face. Her jaw slowly dropped when realization settled in. "Katariina, you did not."

Katya grinned widely. This wasn't the way she hoped this would go, but the response was exactly right. "I did." 

A dozen different emotions flickered behind Natasha's eyes. Playful disappointment, surprise, a hint of lust, but mostly excitement. She loved it when Katya got new tattoos as a surprise. "Show me.''

"Hmm…" Katya hummed in thought, pursing her lips. "No." 

"Please?"

"Begging already?" Katya chuckled when Natasha's face fell into an unimpressed stare. She was loving this power play already. Natasha not so much. "I have a riddle for you. Solve it, and it'll be your only hint."

Natasha scoffed. "A riddle? What am I? Four?"

"Fine.'' Katya shrugged, turning away to pick up the tube to toss it in her nightstand. ''No riddle, no tattoos."

Natasha stubbornly crossed her arms over her chest, watching Katya as she walked around the room. "What are you going to do? Hide your naked body from me for the rest of your life?" When it stayed unwaveringly silent, Natasha groaned in defeat. She knew Katya couldn't keep this up forever, but she could keep it up for a long time. And her own patience wasn't that good. "Give it to me."

With an excited smile, Katya abruptly turned back to her. "I am an odd number. Take away a letter and I become even. What number am I?"

She watched Natasha's face closely while she tried to figure it out. The gears visibly turned behind her eyes, searching for the answer. It wasn't too difficult of a riddle, it shouldn't take her smart brain long to get it. Not to Katya's surprise, she lit up quickly, puzzle pieces falling into place.

"You got seven tattoos?" Natasha hissed in disbelief, her arms slipping loose until they dangled by her sides. Her reaction was nearly comical. If this was a cartoon, her eyeballs would jump out of her head. "How small are they?!"

Katya chuckled slyly, slowly closing the distance between them. "Nuh-uh, you got your hint." The front of Natasha's shirt bunched up in her fist when she yanked her forwards into a kiss, catching her off guard again. 

It was so disorienting—the kiss and the earlier surprise—that Natasha barely managed to kiss her back, still reeling about seven new tattoos as Katya pulled her on top of her on the bed. They fell onto the mattress in a tangle of limbs, years of practice helping Natasha unconsciously sort out this straddling-situation. Only the feeling of Katya's tongue tracing her bottom lip pulled her out of her haze. 

With a shake of her head, she pulled back, attempting to regain her composure. "Distracting me is not going to work."

Katya smirked up at her mysteriously, her brown hair a mess around her head. "I'm not trying to distract you, I'm trying to help you. But it won't work if you don't follow your instincts."

Natasha suspiciously narrowed her eyes at her. How was kissing going to help her out? "You are being so vague right now."

"Indulge me."

Defeatedly, Natasha sighed, going back to kissing her. As expected, she quickly lost the battle against her brain as the taste and feel of Katya's lips took over every other thought. She grew more eager, biting Katya's bottom lip playfully to pull the softest of whimpers from her right as her hand began to wander over her body. It came naturally, her movements, her needs guiding her.

Before long, Natasha had forgotten about the tattoos, the lust freely roaming her veins. Katya hooked a leg over her back and used the incredible strength in her thigh to yank her body down until it was flush against hers. A husky grunt flew from Natasha's lips, her heart starting to pound in her chest with anticipation of something more.

Eagerly, she left Katya's lips to trail the kisses up her jaw, nipping at the skin. Her lips followed the same path they always did, in search of that patch of soft skin right below her wife's left ear. A kiss to that place, and Katya—

Natasha froze. It was like someone hit her on the head and slammed out all the arousal that clouded her logical brain. Utterly confused, she snapped her head up, staring at the spot she meant to kiss. Katya's grinning eyes watched her process why the skin felt sticky.

There, directly below Katya's earlobe, sat a tiny heart, about half the size of her pinky's fingernail. It appeared Natasha found one of the tattoos. 

She frowned at it, finding the placement quite odd. Her gut told her there was more to it. What did Katya say again? Natasha fought through the haze of lust in her mind to recall her exact words from before.

Her instincts… Katya knew her instincts would bring her here, that her lips would end up going to that spot. Maybe that also meant—

Eager but carefully, Natasha pulled the neckline of Katya's shirt down, smiling to herself when that same outlined heart was tattooed on the top of her left breast, where her living, beating heart resided.

She was onto something.

Wordlessly, Katya sat up to help her remove her shirt all together. 

Another heart, right there on the outside of her right shoulder. 

Starting to get strangely giddy, Natasha gently twisted Katya's body around to confirm her suspicions on number four, at the very top of her spine, right between her shoulder blades. 

She was fully smiling now, tracing the shape with her finger. However, there didn't seem to be any other hearts on Katya's upper body.

Questioningly, Natasha glanced down at Katya's pants, then up at her grinning face again. They both knew she had figured it out by now, but it was fun to have her guess.

The inside of Katya's right knee. The inside of her left thigh, very close to the seam of her underwear. Those made six. But no matter how hard Natasha looked—curiously hooking her finger under the waistband of her underwear before Katya slapped her hand away—she couldn't seem to locate the last one.

"You're missing my favorite," Katya muttered as Natasha hovered over her, playing with the ends of Natasha's braid. That's when the redhead spotted it, on the inside of her wrist. Number seven. "There were many more spots, but then my whole body would be covered."

Natasha couldn't find any words to describe the feelings in her chest or the thoughts in her head. Katya had put a heart on her favorite spots to be kissed. By her.

"Do you like it?" Katya asked softly. It was a stupid question, the emotion was written all over Natasha's face. 

"I love them,'' she managed to squeeze out. Gently, she took Katya's hand in her own, kissing the heart on her scarred wrist. Her own heart felt like it was going to explode right out of her chest. ''But you know I don't need a map to know where you like to be kissed."

"You immediately knew where to find them…'' Katya whispered vulnerably, feeling so seen and so loved. 

''Of course I did, honey. How can I be your wife and not know all of you?'' Natasha smiled tenderly. This was the single most romantic thing anyone had ever done for her. Tears burned behind her eyes as she stared deeply into Katya's. ''You want to know my favorite spot?''

Katya nodded, closing her eyes when Natasha leaned in. Her lips were ready to get their kiss, parting in anticipation, but they were never touched.

Her forehead tickled at the brush of a feather-light kiss.

[gen4grl]

my johto timeskip designs + bios/teams below!

i think about this group ALOT!!! if i had any confidence in writing i would easily share the whole hgss rewrite i have in my head but alas… just take my drawings instead! i like to give characters more “realistic” outfits… not really a modern au? i love to imagine the pokemon world with all our worlds pop culture which inspires my designs! long post but enjoy!!! ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎

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lyra + 20. champion ranked trainer

♡ Raised by her single mother, aunt and older cousin Kris in the small New Bark home. Her father died when she was 6 in a mining incident involving Team Rocket. Bubbles, her ace Azumarill, was gifted to Lyra by her father on her 5th birthday - being her final gift from him.

♡ Extremely outgoing, sweetly optimistic and immensely empathic. Absolutley loves making friends and talking to every kind of person. However, is extremely competitive & stubbon and gets frustrated easily - resulting in her giving up quickly but is also extremely quick to be re-motivated. Often feels the emotions of others intensely. Very country girl with an extremely strong Johtoian accent and lisp. Loves 'girly' things like makeup + fashion, period dramas and collecting nick-nacks but also loves spending her days outdoors, espcially in the National Park with Ethan watching the bug-catching contests or the Safari Zone.

♡ Struggled with her battle confidence as a young trainer which resulted in her having to re-battle Falkner and Bugsy several times. Over her journey grew an appreciation for pokemon perceived to be 'weak' & cute and built her team around showing the powers of these types of pokemon. Despite being a Champion Ranked trainer, Lyra opted to work with Ethans grandparents at the daycare center where she specialises in pokemon breeding and training weaker pokemon + their trainers.

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silver + 23. champion ranked trainer

♡ Only child of Rocket Boss, Giovanni. Was born and raised on Island 5 of the Sevii Islands by multiple admins, most commonly Archer before running away to Johto. Has a deep rooted and consistent fear that he’ll never amount to anything but “Giovanni's kid”. Was extremely tight lipped about his upbringing to the trio, especially after learning of his loose connection to Lyras father’s passing. Finally told them the truth of his family after the defeat and final disbandment of Team Rocket.

♡ Originally extremely standoffish, condescending and at times, aggressive. As an adult is still quite serious and independent, but genuinely enjoys the time he spends with his friends and is surprisingly protective of them - especially Lyra and Kris. As time passed, his anger towards his father evolved more into guilt, however, over the years has become more patient, gentle and forgiving with not only others but himself. He still can come off quite intimidating to strangers, but these changes are noticeably visible to those close to him. While usually a quiet person, has a very dry and witty sense of humour that takes most people by surprise.

♡ Mentored by Lance, and later Blue, and spends a large amount of time training in the Dragons Den. While unsure of what direction he wants his life to go into, Lance is adamant he would make a fantastic gym leader or elite four member. Always accompanies Lyra to the yearly Champion Balls and Alola trips. Currently lives in a small beachside bungalow with Lyra in Cherrygrove where he enjoys spending his free time reading and teaching himself guitar.

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ethan + 21

♡ The childhood friend of Lyra, Ethan was raised by his father and grandparents in New Bark. Extremely courteous, friend & family oriented and easy to talk to. A natural comic and can make even the straightest face people crack a slight smile - Red being his proudest achievement. Lax and slightly ditsy but can adapt to any situation and group of people like a flick of a switch. Not the best at articulating himself but always puts 110% into making sure people feel comfortable through his actions.

♡ Completed the 8 Johto gyms but never challenged the Elite Four & Lance in favour for persuing his true passions. Currently works at the Goldenrod Radio Tower where he co-hosts a program consisting of interviewing gym leaders, elite four, champions and other prolific battlers. At nights, does standup in the clubs in the Goldenrod Tunnel. Due to his easy-going nature and career, tends to knows everyone’s buisness + gossip and has crazy experiences with nearly any person imaginable.

♡ Currently lives in a small loft in Goldenrod. Spends his free time watching anime + cartoons or in the National Park either watching the Bug Contests, skating or talking to the old folks. Enjoys the nightlife of Goldenrod where he usually pulls Silver out to bar hop or spend hours playing Voltorb Flip.

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kris + 25

♡ Oldest and mother figure of the group. Was born and grew up in New Bark town with her mother before her cousin Lyra + aunt moved in with them when she was 11. The two shared the large upstairs bedroom growing up where Kris introduced Lyra to contests and the annual Champion & Wallace cups.

♡ Mature, soft spoken and extremely intellegent - both academically and socially. Because of this, can offer solutions on any issue on both a practical and emotional level, no matter the person and situation. Has unique relationships with all three kids but in general sees them as her younger siblings and takes the role as the 'older sister' very seriously. Has a warm and comforting presence, making those even to the likes of Silver feel comfortable confinding in her.

♡ Quite reserved and struggled with her purpose and sexuality growing up, espcially in rural Johto. After the death of her uncle and seeing her daughter’s interests in the Wallace Cups and contests, her mother moved the two to the Hoenn region, settling in Lilycove City when Kris was 13. While starting her gym challenge in the new region, Kris fell in love with Hoenn's unique weather patterns and ecosystems. Eventually she quit the gym challenge to peruse a career as a meteorologist where she now works at the weather institute. When not working, she enjoys attending contests, museums and scuba diving. Finally feeling settled in life, she came out to her family + the trio when she was 20.

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[mintmatcha]

cw: cisfem reader, reader is part gnome, reader wears glasses, sacrilege,

One, two, three. You swirl the last bits of tea counterclockwise and let the bits settle into shapes, order forming from the chaos.

"Are you trying to read the tea leaves?"

You peek up over your glasses. Holm is watching you, head resting against one hand. His cheek is smooshed forward so far that his eye is forced closed in an exhausted wink, and you can't help but smile back at him.

"Maybe."

"Using my blessed tea? My holy herbs?" He frowns, mouth comically down turned, a upside-down U. "That's sacrilege."

You tilt the mug his way. "So you don't want to know what they say?"

That earns you a soft smile, warm and fleeting. It ends with a sigh. "Only if it's good."

It isn't. The leaves tell you of bad decisions, of regrets and heartbreak. You spin your cup once more and watch it all turn to flurries.

"Things are always good with you."

"Hm." He reminds you of a cat, emotions reserved and measured, lips lifted in the middle by his short philtrum. "Hm, hm."

You hadn't intended to end up here, but a couple glasses of wine and a couple bad decisions led you right to his door, a moth to flame. When he answered the door, you told him the inn was full, that other friend's places were too far. It was an obvious lie, but he let you in anyway, made you tea and threw wood on the fire.

He stirs his spoon until his tea swirls, spoon never touching the mug's edge. It's silent, methodical, perhaps a bit soothing.

"The neighbors are going to talk, though." Holm stays placid, voice soft. The silken fabric of his sleep clothes are wrinkled only on one side-- he side he sleeps on, you imagine. "I'm not supposed to be alone with a woman after dark."

He's more devout than most in this part of the country. Prayer at sun rise and sun down, a diet free of meats and alcohol, perfect celibacy; he's the paradigm. Common doesn't have the correct word for the position; monk, priest, shaykh: none of them are quite correct, but close enough that most get the idea.

A holy man.

Certainly someone that shouldn't be having you stay the night.

"They won't." You tilt your mug side to side and the dregs of tea leaves, still wet, catch the light. The shapes change and shift. They still aren't good. "The neighbors know you wouldn't do anything."

"They don't know that." Holm hums. "I// don't know that."

There's a dwindling silence between you, a tension you can't cut through. The unspeakable thing between you grows.

"If something was going to happen between us, it would have already happened."

The fire catches in his eyes as he looks your way, bouncing from one eye to the other, then down to your mouth. He lingers there for a long moment, lids so heavy that you finally understand how thought can be sin-

"Let me get your bed set up."

You take his mug to the sink as he goes down the hall, rustling in closets. The house's quiet is heavy and hearty, so thick you can't swallow it down.

"You can take my bed tonight." He calls down the hall. "Mickbell and Kuro didn't clean the futon last time they stayed over and it's covered in hair."

A headache is already starting to thrum at your temples. Tomorrow, you'll regret all of this, but tonight, you can blame the alcohol.

"I'm not going to ask you to do that."

Holm comes from his bedroom and just shakes his head. You don't fight it; the fire is low and the sun is only a couple hours away.

Even if it wasn't, you'd still stay.

"The sheets are fresh." He musses his hair and its delightfully fluffed, red touched brown has reminds you of your family's old hunting dog. "I'll sleep out here, so I don't wake you in the morning."

Neither of you move. The last bits of fire are dying in the hearth, painting shadows long. Darkness is threatening to engulf you both, swallow you whole, and you use the last bits of light to admire him and his casual, understated beauty-

"Don't." Holm's voice is brittle.

"Don't what?"

"Don't do it."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You do." Neither of you move. "It's why you came here."

Your eyes are better than his in the dark. You can see how he seeks you on in the darkness, eyes slightly narrowed.

"My Gods are important to me." His brow is knitted firmly, but his mouth is soft, open. "My spirit is important to me."

"I know."

"If you start, I don't know if I'm strong enough to stop."

He steps closer. "So, don't." Another step forward, until you can feel the glimmer of mana around him. "We can't."

"Okay," you say. "I won't."

"Don't tempt me."

"I'm not."

"Good."

There's only a singular moment before he breaks. He draws you in like a breath, hands clumsily finding your cheeks and cupping them forcefully. The kiss itself is messy, with his nose bumping into your cheek and his lips missing yours, but he takes corrections well. You tilt your head slightly and he meets you there, mouth slotting into yours. You busy yourself with the front of his shirt, undoing just enough buttons to slide your hands against the warm, soft skin of his chest.

The kiss remains chaste, just the friction of skin against skin, until you part your lips more and more, him chasing the contact with wanton want--

Your tongue slides against his and he moans, unabashedly and unembarrassed, into your mouth. Holm pulls back, panting so hard that his chest bumps into yours.

"You-" He swallows, glancing down. His hands slide down your shoulders and to your chest, cupping them clumsily, meekly, hopefully- "You taste like wine."

And he dives in again to suck on your tongue.

The rest is a flurry. Your head spins, your chest aches like it might burst, and Holm keeps kissing you with that earnest, amateur passion that makes your heart sing. Your glasses are knocked halfway off of your face, drooping off your nose. Holm walks your down the hall step by step, in between gasps of breath and nips of teeth, until the cool down of his bed presses against your back.

His bed is fluffy pillows, white sheets, and down. They smell like musk and like they were dried in the sun,

Holm breaks away for a moment, jagged breath against your cheek. His tired eyes are barely open, but they still watch you with a gentle admiration.

"You look like an angel."

Your heart drops. No, this isn't holy. Not at all.

"Oh, Holm." You place a hand on his shoulder and push him away right before his lips find yours again. "We can't do this."

He doesn't move, but you can feel the resistance drain from his muscles.

"I'm choosing you," he whispers. "I know what doing this means and I'm choosing you."

He reaches for your cheek, pleading.

"Let me choose you." Holm's touch is heartbreakingly fleeting. "Let me worship you."

You almost break. You want to break.

"I can't let you do that."

[hiwelcometothemonstersancturary]

How is Angel’s parents/family getting along with their newly adopted kids and “husband”

Angel's parents are going to LOVE the newfound family of +80 toys! I'm working on a small comic to show how their first meeting went before I write it post-factory arc, but although confused and extremely worried for Angel's one week dissapearance and experiences inside PlayCo, their family is, ultimately, extremely supportive of them. Angel really is their mother's kid, because Mrs. Oliveira is instantly head over heels for her surprise grandkids. Angel's dad is almost collapsing, and their brother is Very Confused. Sister-in-law is already reaching the #1 aunt spot, she's wasting no time.

The human family will be extremely helpful for Angel, helping them house hunt and get enough supplies and groceries for ALL the kiddos. They'll also babysit the kids for when Angel is away helping the Smiling Critters in the hospital, or having to run in order to talk to their lawyers and what to do against what remains of PlayCo. When Angel and the kids move to the farm house, they're there to help, and when they get better homes thanks to Angel's money, it's the toys' turn to help. I think they end up being a very close family, despite the initial distrust from the toys!

Now, for their reaction to the Prototype...

Angel's mother, Marlene, got herself mentally prepared when Angel told her about how there was one final experiment for her to meet. "He looks like an actual horror movie monster, mom. He isn't like Marie or Oskar". Marlene listened closely, and, when Prototype stepped out of his hut to say hi and introduce himself, she somehow managed to not stumble her words or look weirded out. Angel and her really are alike.

Angel's father, Roger, was way more prepared than when he first saw the toys. However, what he was expecting was for Prototype to be at least humanoid, not that centipede-looking thing. He could not look even more weirded out than he was, but he was still very nice to him, and probably asked a lot of questions before Angel told him to calm down a bit.

Angel's brother, Miguel, was a bit quiet the whole time, letting their mom do the talking and nodding along. Internally he's just "yeah, I thought he would look worse than that, but oh my God he looks this close to collapsing". Introduces himself before telling Prototype he better help Angel with the kids. Miguel can't do shit against him but he gotta protect his big sibling! Somehow!

Angel's sister-in-law and Miguel's wife, Amy, was lowkey a bit heartbroken as she thought about all the horrible things PlayCo. must have done to their first EVER succesfull experiment. She's a bit sensitive over the idea, having heard firsthand from the toys what living there was like, and gently slaps her husband's back so he can shut up. "Please ignore him, I'm very sure you are doing your best in there, you look very tired! I-I MEAN, you must be, of course you must, you-" and she goes on a rant before Miguel calms her down.

Eventually, they all get along just fine with Proto! They all have different reactions when they find out he was originally Elliot Ludwig, and as the years go by they just see him as another member of the giant household. Angel's brother, however, knows from a mile away a QPR is on the making just from the way Angel treats Prototype/Elliot. When Angel tells him about it he's just "well, took you long enough!". Angel is offended (affectionate). Amy is SO happy for them, also probably knew it since Miguel told her (he tells everything to her). Angel's dad is just "oh thank goodness you didn't get a weirder partner, I was worried someone would try murdering you for the money". Marlene was going to reprimand him but she's thinking the same.

However, when Angel and Elliot DO decide to get married on paper, Angel. Straight up forget to tell Miguel and Amy about it for a whole MONTH before dropping the info, thinking they already knew about it, before being bombarded with questions.

"Well, that's on YOU for forgetting to tell me you and Amy got engaged, Miguel!"

"TWO DAYS. I FORGOT FOR TWO DAYS".

"AND EVERYONE IN THE FAMILY KNEW. I TAUGHT YOU HOW TO FIGHT AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY ME?"

"YOU FORGOT TO TELL ME FOR A MONTH! DO MOM AND DAD EVEN KNOW ABOUT IT?"

Angel pauses, trying to remember. Miguel is in shambles, Amy is trying not to laugh at how stupid this whole situation is. "I think I did".

Miguel looks up.

"You. THINK. You told our parents. About the fact that you are going to be LEGALLY MARRIED FOR THE FIRST TIME IN YOUR LIFE?"

"YOU FORGOT TO TELL THEM YOU EVEN HAD A GIRLFRIEND".

"I DID NOT FORGET, IT WAS A STRATEGY TO AVOID MY OWN EMBARASSMENT IN CASE SHE GAVE UP ON ME".

Angel points at Amy: "As we can see, that was for fucking nothing".

The sibling fight continues.

[bluepeachstudios]

Oh my gosh... if Ghost was THAT interdependent with his brothers, it must have HURT when he got ripped away. His emotions must have been a MESS; he's used to a four person emotional system and now it's just him alone? No wonder he isolated himself for so long. And no wonder the SAINW boys fell apart!! There's an essential piece missing, the system is broken. Did they feel it when he disappeared? Did they know he was gone? Did they know they were broken?

Leonardo woke in the middle of the day. He was a light sleeper, it wasn’t unheard of, but instead of the usual rustling of Mikey out for a midday snack or the sound of Donny still working on a project, it was eerily quiet. There was the regular creak of pipes, the distant rumble of the city far above their heads, but nothing unusual.

He got out of bed anyway to check on his brothers.

It had been a rough few months. Travelling all the way to the floating city of Beijing to set it back down safely into place (the wrong way around), the return of the Y’Lyntian people in the underground city, stopping a nuclear bombing by H.A.T.E., the… thing beneath Wall Street that had sent them spiraling into their worst nightmares.

All of that overlaid with whatever the Shredder was up to now. Leo’s nerves were at an all time high. Raph’s temper was shorter than ever. Donny was working later into the days and sleeping less and less. Mikey was doing his best to keep the mood light and joking.

It had been a rough few months, but they had stuck together, they’d supported each other through nightmares and flashbacks and aches and pains. They’d rested together when one of them felt too exhausted to continue doing this.

They would always have each other, no matter how bad things got.

But something felt wrong.

He found Mikey asleep in his room, up in his bed, curled up with a comic hanging from his hand over the ledge. Leo carefully extracted the comic and set it aside for Mikey to find when he woke.

Raph was twitching in his hammock, a frown on his face. Another nightmare. Leo carefully rubbed over his shell and Raph sucked in a breath, mumbling, “Leo? Whaddya doin’?”

“Just checking on everyone,” Leo murmured. “Go back to sleep.”

“Hmph. Make Don go to bed if he’s still up.”

“Got it.”

Leo walked out of the room and headed to Donny’s. As expected, he wasn’t there, so Leo hopped down to his lab.

Surprisingly, that was also empty.

Leo frowned as he stepped inside the old subway car, looking around. Some things had been knocked over. There was broken glass across the floor. The machine Donny had been working on was still humming faintly. A glass of water sat untouched. Donny’s shell cell was still on the table.

Something felt wrong.

“Don?” Leo said, stepping out of the lab.

He checked the kitchen next, but didn’t find his brother hunting through the cabinets. He didn’t find him in the storage room either, or the bathroom. He even went up to check the garage and didn’t find him.

When he stepped out of the elevator, Raph was waiting there for him, frowning.

“Somethin’ felt off,” Raph muttered before Leo could ask. “What’s Donny doin’ up in the garage?”

“He’s not,” Leo shook his head. “I’ve searched the whole place for him.”

Raph’s mouth twitched downwards. “He’s gotta be around here somewhere. Maybe he got a call from April?”

Leo took out his shell cell and called as Raph began searching the rooms. It was enough for Mikey to come ambling out yawning as April finally answered.

“Leo?” She asked, surprised. “Aren’t you guys usually asleep by now?”

“Is Donny with you?” Leo asked. “Or did you call him?”

“No.” Her frown could be heard through the phone. “Maybe he went to the junkyard? Or Casey asked him to help with something? He’ll turn back up, don’t worry so much.”

“It’s…” Leo paused. He didn’t know how to explain it. He knew something was wrong. He could feel it in his gut, in the way it was churning and twisting and tightening. His nerves felt frayed, raw, like an open wound. “I don’t know. Something feels off, April. We’ll check the junkyards and Casey’s. Thanks.”

“Sure, Leo… Are you guys alright?”

“Yeah, we’ll be fine.”

“Mikey told me about you guys seeing Bishop again. And Karai.”

Leo was quiet for a moment, before he took a breath to calm himself. “I’ll talk to you later, April. I wanna find Donny first.”

“Okay… Bye, Leo.”

“Bye.”

He took a breath and rubbed his hand over his face.

“Why would he go to the junkyard during the day?” Leo muttered. “Without his shell cell, too…”

“I can’t find him, Leo,” Raph scowled as he stalked up to him. “Where the shell did he go? Why is there broken glass in his lab?!”

“I don’t know, Raph,” Leo said quietly. “We’ll find him. Call Casey and see if he’s heard from Donny.”

“Want me to wake up Splinter?” Mikey asked.

“Not yet.” Leo frowned towards Donny’s lab. “He might’ve gone into the tunnels.”

“I’ll check the pond,” Mikey said, heading over to it. “The diving gear is still here so he can’t have gone far.”

There was a splash as Mikey dove in, and Raph dialed Casey.

Leo stood there, waiting with his breath held, watching Raph, who was looking more and more irritated by the second.

“Casey, you heard from Donny?” Raph blurted into the phone. He scowled quickly. “I dunno! I was hopin’ he’d gone over to your place or somethin’. He’s not with April, he’s not in the garage, he wouldn’t have gone out durin’ the day, he left his shell cell here–”

Raph was cut off by Casey saying something, and Leo realized how tense his shoulders were. He tried to force them to relax, to try and calm Raph as well, but he saw Mikey pop back up from the pond and shake his head as he climbed out.

Leo was becoming more and more aware that his frayed nerves felt like disconnection. Some part of him was missing that he hadn’t even noticed was there before. It made his stomach churn. He could feel it in his bones, in his throat.

Donatello wasn't there anymore.

[unlucky-phantom]

A Moment in peace

Yall have @kiiyome-art to thank for this ever seeing the light of day. Please go give her some love and check out her comic shes doing because it's GORGEOUS!

(Context for this piece because I still haven't posted Phantoms back story. Phantom was rezzed around the same time as Drifter and she went by the name Aurora. They were sweet on one another for a while until ✨️trauma✨️ they reunited when Drifter retuns to the tower.)

Anyway, enjoy this fluffy little piece between phantom and the basement dweller

(Drifters POV)

I was half awake, lyin’ there in the dark, when I felt her move. Phantom. My little bat. I stayed still, eyes closed, lettin’ her think I was still asleep. The way she moved was soft, like she didn’t wanna disturb me, but I could feel the shift in the air. Her weight left the bed slowly, like she was tryin’ to sneak away—but there was no sneakin’ past me, not when it came to her.

I cracked one eye open, just enough to see her standin’ at the edge of the bed. She wasn’t dressed and the soft glow from the console near the window highlighted her pale skin. She didn’t even look back at me. Her mind was somewhere else.

I could see the lines of her tattoos snakin’ over her body, the way her skin seemed to glow under the dim light of the derelict. She was somethin’ otherworldly, and fuck, every time I looked at her, I couldn’t believe she was mine again. There was this strange, untouchable quality about her, like she was just barely tethered to this world, but when she was with me, it was like I grounded her. Kept her steady.

Damn. What are you doin’ up, sweetheart?

I watched her from the shadows as she padded barefoot over to the console, her hands brushing against the controls without pressing anything. She leaned against it for a second, her eyes flickering up toward the wide windows that looked out into the black void of space. She always did that—always had this fascination with the stars.

The way she gazed out at them, like she was starin’ at something far beyond our reach, always made me wonder what she was thinkin’. Phantom never talked much about herself. She was a mystery, even to me. But there was somethin’ peaceful about the way she looked out there—like the coldness of space matched the quiet in her heart.

I stayed quiet, watchin’ her in the silence. Her body moved in this effortless way, graceful even when she wasn’t tryin’ to be. She pressed her hand against the window, her fingers splayed out like she was reachin’ for the stars, the warmth of her skin causeing the glass to fog a little round her fingers. There was a sadness to it, though��something unspoken that I hadn’t quite figured out yet.

“Can’t sleep?” I finally muttered, my voice low and rough, still pretending I’d just woken up. No use in lettin’ her think I’d been watchin’ her the whole time. She didn’t startle, didn’t even turn around. She just kept her eyes fixed on the stars outside, her voice soft when she finally spoke. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Didn’t,” I grunted, sittin’ up in the bed, stretchin’ my arms over my head. “But I know when somethin’s on your mind.”

There was a long pause, and I could hear her breathin’ in that slow, steady rhythm she always fell into when she was thinkin’.

“I’ve just… never been able to sleep out here,” she said quietly, her hand still resting on the glass. “Not in space. It’s too… open.”

Too open?

I frowned, slidin’ out of bed and walkin’ over to her. The cold air of the derelict made the floor under my feet feel like ice, but I was used to it. I stood behind her, lettin’ my hands rest on her shoulders, feelin’ the tension in her muscles. “You feelin’ trapped out here, or somethin’?”

She shook her head slowly, leanin’ into my touch just a little. “No. Not trapped. More like… untethered.”

That word hit me hard. Untethered. It made sense, I guess. She didn’t have much in the way of roots. Hell, she didn’t even work around the Tower or other guardians. Kept to herself. She was always drippin' in mystery, and even though we’d grown close—*real* close—there were still parts of her that seemed like they belonged to the stars and not to this world.

I stepped closer, my chest pressin’ against her back, lettin’ her feel my warmth. “You ain’t untethered, sweetheart,” I murmured, my voice low against her ear. “Not with me around. I got you. You’re grounded with me, yeah?”

She finally turned her head to look at me, those green eyes of hers soft, contemplative. There was a vulnerability there that she rarely let show. For all her coldness, for all her sharp edges, there was somethin’ delicate underneath it all.

“I know,” she whispered, her lips curving into a faint smile. “You always got my back,"

“Damn right I do,” I said, brushin’ a strand of her hair behind her ear. “You’re my fire cracker. I told you, I’m keepin’ you safe. You’re not floatin’ out in the void anymore.”

She let out a soft sigh, leanin’ back into me fully now, her body relaxin’ against mine. I wrapped my arms around her waist, pullin’ her close, and for a moment, we just stood there in the quiet, watchin’ the stars outside the window.

“You’re with me, Aurora,” I murmured against her neck, lettin’ the words settle in the air between us. “And I ain’t lettin’ you go.”

The stars outside the window shifted as the first light of the sunrise crept over the curve of Earth, painting everything in a soft, golden glow. I stood there with my arms wrapped around Phantom, her body warm and pressed against mine. We didn’t say much, just watchin’ as the light spilled across the surface below us. There was somethin' about it, somethin' peaceful, that made all the noise in my head go quiet for a while.

She leaned into me, her head resting on my chest, and I could feel the steady rise and fall of her breathing. In moments like this, she wasn’t the cold, mysterious hunter that kept to herself, always hiding behind that hood and mask. Right now, she was just... mine. My little secret. And I’d be damned if I wasn’t gonna keep it that way.

“Sunrise,” I muttered, my voice low as I watched the light spill over the horizon. “Almost forgot how pretty that shit can be.”

Phantom didn’t say much, just gave a small hum of agreement, her fingers tracing light patterns on my arm. She wasn’t one for big displays of emotion, but I knew she appreciated moments like this. Maybe even more than I did. She was ancient—older than she ever let on—and I had to wonder how many sunrises she’d seen. How many she’d spent alone before we found this strange, tangled thing between us.

“You ever watch the sunrise like this before?” I asked, keeping my voice quiet, like if I spoke too loud I’d break whatever calm was hangin’ in the air between us.

She shifted slightly in my arms, eyes flickering as she stared out at the horizon. “Once or twice,” she finally said, her voice soft, distant. “But never like this.”

I smirked, leanin’ down to press a light kiss against the top of her head. “Yeah? Guess I make it special, huh?”

She let out a small, amused snort, barely a laugh, but it was there. “Maybe.”

“Maybe, huh?” I chuckled, giving her a squeeze. “You got it bad, Phantom.”

She didn’t respond, but I could feel her relax further into me, and that was enough. We watched the last bit of the sun crest over the horizon, the golden light filling the small space of the derelict with warmth that didn’t match the cold steel of the ship.

Eventually, she pulled away, slowly, like she didn’t really want to leave the warmth of my arms. I let her go, though, watching as she padded across the room with that effortless grace of hers. Phantom bent down, pickin' up my discarded shirt from the floor, the fabric too big for her small frame, but damn if she didn’t make it look good. She slipped it on, the hem falling down to her thighs, and I could barely hold back the grin.

“Hell of a look on you,” I muttered, leanin’ back against the console as I crossed my arms over my chest, enjoyin' the view.

She glanced over her shoulder, rollin' her eyes in that way she always did when I teased her, but there was a hint of a smile on her lips. “Shut up,” she said softly, but there was no bite to her words.

I smirked. “Don’t act like you don’t love it.”

She didn’t deny it. Instead, she tugged the shirt down a bit more and headed toward the small corner where we kept the essentials. She paused for a moment, then glanced back at me with a raised brow.

“Coffee?” she asked, her voice back to that cool, collected tone she always had, like she wasn’t just pressed against me minutes ago, lost in the quiet moment we shared. I let out a low chuckle, pushin' off the console and wanderin’ over to her, not botherin’ to put on a shirt myself. “You makin’ it or am I?”

Her eyes flickered up to meet mine, a playful glint there that only I ever really got to see. “I’ll make it,” she said, turning back to the small counter, her hands moving to grab the supplies.

I leaned against the wall, watchin' her in silence for a moment, takin’ in how damn domestic this all felt. Phantom, in my shirt, makin’ coffee in the quiet of the derelict as the sunrise cast everything in a soft glow. If anyone saw us now, they’d never believe it. They’d never believe she was the same cold, distant hunter who barely spoke to anyone. But with me, here, she was different. She was... softer. Still a mystery, sure, but one I was more than happy to unravel piece by piece.

“Phantom,” I muttered after a moment, my voice low, thoughtful. “You ever think about... stayin' here? Just the two of us? Forget the Tower, forget all the shit out there?”

She paused, her back still turned to me as she finished makin' the coffee. I could see the slight tension in her shoulders, like she was thinkin’ about it. Then she turned, two cups in hand, and walked over to me, handin' one over.

“Maybe,” she said quietly, takin' a small sip of her own cup. “But the world doesn’t forget people us,"

I took the cup, watchin’ her carefully. “Yeah, but we can pretend for a while. Can’t we?”

She looked at me over the rim of her cup, and for a second, I thought I saw that same quiet sadness she always carried, like she wanted to believe it, but knew better.

“Maybe,” she whispered, her eyes meeting mine. “Maybe we can.”

And that was good enough for now.

[damianbugs]

You need to tell us what you think of your favorite Bruce ships. Pls

i should preface by saying i usually prefer bruce (in my own works and others, including comics) to not be in a relationship at all because i can't think of a time he's like ever emotionally stable enough for that. like ever. THAT BEING SAID isn't that all the more reason to throw him into a ship? doomed tragic romance you will always be famous to me

and because i am insane, here are some comic recs to go with my fav bruce ships!!

>batcat

a classic favourite, batcat!!! i will admit i am not the biggest fan of their rebirth stories, and the whole wedding fiasco and most of what tom king wrote about them (and in general) was. not enjoyable. but pre crisis/golden age batcat? MY PARENTS. just. silver and bronze age batcat too. what a refreshing and entertaining couple. the thing that really makes them compelling is at the end of the day they have the same goal; protect the people of gotham. the ways they go about it can be different, and selina especially faces some serious mischaracterisation in order to make bruce look like the "hero" in the relationship, but at their core and simplest expression of love, they share the same dream, and they both know that. it's this selflessness that connects them deeply.

> "The Autobiography of Bruce Wayne" (Batman the Brave and the Bold #197) is, in my opinion, essential batcat reading. a very bittersweet story!

> for a more modern read, "Only Takes a Night" (Catwoman #32) is a delightful read about how hopelessly in love they are. bruce is such a devoted loser.

> ghostbat

every character needs that one irreparably damaging young adult tragic romance that changed their life forever and that is what ghostbat is. khoa is the perfect foil to bruce, in that ultimately, they are two ends of the same spectrum. fiercely stubborn and confident in their own moral code but in the opposite way. this ship is particularly fascinating because even now, the respect and love they have for each other years later is so deeply consuming that it is prevalent in how they interact now. i don't think bruce would have been the person he is without his relationship with khoa pre-batman, in both a good and bad ways. i also really love the hc that khoa is bruce's first heartbreak (refer to: the Snow and Gun incident).

> "Batman The Knight" is like ghostbat religious text. this is all you need. let it destroy you.

> batlantern

no long paragraph about this one because its my silly guilty pleasure. sometimes u need a ship in which they just don't get along except for the times they do. hal brings out such an irritating (said fondly) side to bruce and its even funnier because it works mutually. i think another really wonderful thing about this pairing is that they are really not so different from each other (nothing says romance than being consumed by your guilt and stubbornness), but they both think otherwise, so they knock heads while also begrudgingly respecting about one another in a colleague-friend-crush way. they want to make out so bad it makes them look stupid.

> "Batman: Universe" is a great and short silly story that shows their dynamic really well. amused me greatly. not ship focused though hal is there for like. a single issue unfortunately. but fun!!

> i usually never recommend any new 52 books to get INTO a character, but if you're interested in this pairing and its most 'popular' fanon interation, then "Jutice League (2011)" is the best place to start. you can get to their better stuff afterwards! (there's also an animated movie about it!)

> brutalia

AND BEST TILL LAST. THE BRUCE SHIP OF ALL TIME. ruined my life. CHANGED my life. i wish i could explain how insanely important this relationship is in words. i love my pairings tragic and there is quite literally no other ship quiet as dramatic or poetic than brutalia. talia is often seen as bruce's "one true love" with great reason, and him hers, and despite that they will probably never actually get back together. in a wider lense, the al ghuls and bruce have an insanely complicated dynamic, and this inherent conflict about missions bigger than themselves makes brutalia's forbidden love drama all the more compelling. talia brings out the best in bruce, and bruce respects and loves talia in a way i don't think he does anyone else in his life.

to complain for a moment, it's no wonder that because their relationship (since it's very first introduction) was so irrevocably pure and consensual (they were both so ridiculously obsessed with each other), that Certain Writers had to pull out the most out of character and disgusting stories to make it clear the tone of batman was changing. talia is always a victim to racism, misogyny and just unbelievable ooc writing — most evidently in her stories with bruce, unfortunately.

AND YET. recent comics have realised how truly ridiculous it is to write her as anything but kind and strong, and bruce being anything but hopelessly infatuated. i think my favourite thing about brutalia is that bruce and talia is a relationship that has been separated for actual Decades and so both their characters have been developed to have their own tragic stories and growth. then when we get small moments that bring them back together and letting that past show through the cracks in their carefully constructed walls, it's all the more romantic.

beautiful heartbreaking ship. the kind of relationship historians would cry over. would have the romantic period publishing fifteen books over.

> "Batman: Son of the Demon" is ESSENTIAL brutalia reading. also, if you are insane and delusional enough, it can be the true origin of damian.

> the comic moment that inspired all romance the moment of forever the blueprint even is in the famous "Batman (1940) #244"

> for a more modern take, very recently in fact, is her appearances in Ram V's run of detective comics, starting from #1062. its not brutalia focused, but a great take on how natural and yearning their relationship is now.

[little-reader]

"The Son of A Monster." Ch. 8

Masterlist

Carl Grimes x Male!Reader

Warnings; Graphic Gore, Death, blood, Slow-burn, Sexual tension, Gay awakening (For both), Cursing, Negan is the Readers dad, Enemies to lovers story. Fighting. Zombie Apocalypse. Implied rape.

I sat in a room I was quite familiar with. This time, it had an extra bed, with blankets lying at the end. It was moved into the house after I was checked. I lay in this bed for hours. My back was facing the room as I stared at the wall. Plain blue wallpaper with a few cracks. There wasn’t much to do. I felt like a misbehaving child, sent to his room without supper. I was tired, and I hadn’t seen anyone since I came into this room. 

There wasn't much to say. What could I say? I sighed, staring at my fingers as I fiddled with them. The talking downstairs could be heard as it echoed through the hallways outside the door. I wasn't sure what they were talking about, but I could guess. I feel as though I will not be leaving this house or room for a while. A long while. I guess it wasn't too bad. A bed, food, a shower... and alone with my thoughts. It wasn't all that bad, it was quiet and calm, just what they wanted. 

I could hear footsteps coming upstairs and walking down the hall as I closed my eyes. The door handle was turned and pushed in. Soft feet camp in and close the door. I could hear the creak of the other bed and a light flip on, a lamp beside his bed, and pages flip. His beloved comics. That's what he was reading. It wasn’t usual, he'd stay up for hours either rereading comics or action books. Sometimes, he would draw with a Sharpie, making his figures.

I thought that was cute. He is making his figures. When he left the room, I would skim through his stack of papers, looking at the small pictures he drew. 

I sigh silently, slowly moving my head to look at the other bed. He was doing exactly that. Reading a book this time in his bed. His hat was hung on the top of the lamp and flannel was thrown at the bottom of the bed. His shoes were left at the door, showing how he lazily took them off. 

“You up?” He asked, making me realize he was looking at me. I hummed, and looked at the wall, playing with my fingers. Why did they put me in this room? As a joke, or had he asked? Or was he now supposed to watch over me like I did with him? Doesn't matter really. I'm stuck. He left me behind. For all he knows, I could be dead… I rub my eyes, yawning. “Dad said you're allowed out of the house if someone's watching over you.” He states as I give him another small hum. I was sure this annoyed him, by his small sigh and the sound of shuffling behind me. His light moved and pointed at me. I could see his shadow moving around on the wall as I had my head shoved into the pillow. My fingers played with the fabric of the pillowcase, pulling on the old rattan tag that was attached to it.

I felt a dip in my bed as Carl sat behind me, getting comfortable. I wasn’t sure what his motive was, but I didn’t appreciate it as I moved closer to the wall. I pushed my body forward and rolled onto my stomach, the blanket slipping off me because of the movement and Carl sitting on it. I grunted.

It was a while before he read. I could hear the book pages flip, and see his shadow moving as I stared at it. My heart beat a little faster. Something hit me rather quickly. I kissed him. In front of his family. His whole family. Shit. Though, he acted like it didn’t happen. I couldn’t tell what hurt worse, rejection or throwing it away. Another mistake, another damn mistake. It pissed me off to think he put off the kiss. But that was selfish. I was selfish. Now I’m here, with Carl reading on my bed, in a room I’m stuck in, in a town I have been in for months. I was always stuck here. This time, it would be harder to leave, to sneak out. 

 I sighed and turned on my back, now staring at the ceiling. Carl looked over from his book at the sudden movement. I stared at him, before letting my arm smack into his book down and sighing again. He rolled his eyes. 

“I'm… sorry,” I said, barely over a whisper, as I left my armrest on his lap and stared at my fingers again. I raised an eyebrow. His head tilted slightly. “I… I’m sorry, for everything.” I whispered, only glancing at him for a second. Lifted myself into a sitting position, letting out a breath as I did. “I didn’t know why I was going home. I didn’t know he was gonna kill your people, hell I did too.” I paused, picking at my nails. “And I’m sorry for doin’ that in front of your family. It was selfish,” I stated, not daring to look at the young boy. I was honestly scared to look at him. What emotion would lie in his expression? Disgust? 

I jolted slightly as he placed his hand on mine. I didn’t move them for a moment before I started to wrap my fingers intertwined with his. I sighed softly. “I don’t know what to feel. It's new for me.” Carl said, in the same calm voice, as he stared at our hands. “I…” He pauses like he’s trying to think about what to say. “I like you… and the time I spent with you, it wasn’t just me keeping you away… I’m sorry about that too. I enjoy spending time with you, Y/N. I love going out of the walls almost every week, watching you tell stories in that old house. I love going to that lake, going in and sitting in the field to dry off and stare at the clouds. I love when you give me your comic collection or teach me how to make pasta… I feel myself around you.” He stated, playing with my fingers. “Everyone warned me you’d hurt me… and all you’ve done is the opposite. I can’t count how many times you’ve saved my ass out there, in here… you make this world… better.” He grips my hand, now staring at me. I stare back. I want him. Crave the boy near me. I lifted my hand and rubbed his cheek, pushing his hair out of his face, and looking at his face. His bandage covered the side of it, and his face looked like he was confused, but strong in his emotions. 

“I… you know… 'm two years older than you... Bigger than you.” I started like I was trying to deny, reject, or back out. He broke eye contact and nodded, “Hey…” I paused, dipping my head down to catch his gaze. “Just… no funny business,” I whispered, and he chuckled slightly, then left it to a small smile. I rubbed his chin with my fingers. I felt his hand squeeze mine as my eyes flickered to his lips.

I smiled and kissed his cheek softly, pulling his chin to kiss the other. I kissed the corner of his mouth, then his chin, and the tip of his nose before I paused. I felt content at the moment. I looked down, my eyes locking with his, as I rubbed his chin with my thumb softly, and softly pressed my lips to his mouth, letting myself sink into the other boy. I let my hands wrap around his hair, bringing him closer.

I had my body draped across his, our legs wrapped together. I had just noticed how much bigger I was than him, but he was younger, so that might change shortly. I had my arms wrapped around his torso, and my head propped against his shoulder as he read. The blanket went to my shoulder. I closed my eyes, letting myself soak in his body heat as I drifted to other places. My mind kept on him as I fell asleep.

Dusty fields overlapped my body, the ingrown wheat or the yellow fields surrounded me as I lay in them. I opened my eyes, slowly looking around, I saw clouds looking down upon me as I was suddenly lifted into a standing position without moving a muscle. I blinked, turning my torso, but unable to move my feet forward. I could see a hand peeking out from the crops as I squinted. I felt my hands clench. The hand from the crops reached out towards me, inviting me in. The ring on the finger was oddly familiar, the hand pale and purple, with long nails and a pearl bracelet. Soft and dead. I reached out for it, trying to speak, I knew the hand quite well, or so I had not seen this hand in a while. I tried to screech out. But hands from the fields behind me started to grab me and pull me into them. I leaned my upper body over, trying to grab the hand, I wanted to yell out, but nothing came out, just the sound of the wind. The other side of the field was lit on fire, engulfing the hand as I was pulled in. One gloved hand, a smaller hand with dirt in its fingernails, two children's hands, and a dead hand with long nails and a black sleeve.

My eyes opened wide, feeling the sweat pool on my back as I lay there and felt my lungs heave quickly. I swallowed, my throat dry as I moved myself away from the sleeping boy. He shifted in his sleep, turning his back to me as I climbed over his legs. My feet touch the ground, feeling the floor beneath them. Something felt off about this room, it wasn’t set perfectly. I mean, everything was in its place, the book Carl was reading, same color, same light, same bead, sheets and blankets… Something was different. I felt wrong as I stood in the middle of the room. It started to cave, the room was getting smaller, and the walls started to turn into shapes as I started to lose my balance. The humming was heard behind me, in different tones, pulling me towards the voice. Blackness. Sweat and a thud.

-

“He just got out and passed out,” Carl said, looking at the two for help. “He won’t wake up and he’s not responding.” 

Yelling was heard down the hall as Rick and Michonne got out of bed quickly, and raced down the hall with weapons in hand. The door slammed open, and the two looked around, expecting to see a different scene. Carl looked panicked on his knees, looking at my sweating, pass-out body as he held my head in his lap.

“Michonne,” Rick said, putting his gun down. She nodded and left the room. Rick made a quick effort to check my pulse. “He’s not doing so hot,” Rick said, feeling the heat radiate off of my body. He lifted my shirt up and slowly peeled off the bandage. “Jesus.” He said, covering his nose and pushing it back.

That made Carl panic more. “What? What is it?” He said, going to pull the bandage but Rick moved his hand back. The smell circled the room. “Dad.” He said, covering his nose. “What's wrong?” He questioned. 

Rick shook his head, looking at his son before pulling the bandage and turning on the bedside light. “That smell… that is the infection,” Rick said, looking at the deep wound. There was goo covering the bandage and wound. Carl's eyes widened.

Carl watched from his bed as Aaron, Toby, Daryl, and Carol came in with a carrier. Carol looked over the wound, whispering where Rick could not hear. Michonne had a medical box with her as they lifted my body on a board. Carol took off the old bandage and wiped down the wound with an alcohol wipe. They slowly carried me out of the room to take care of me somewhere else. 

Carl was left awake, in his room alone. His thoughts left him in worry. 

“Who checked him yesterday?” Rick asked, outside the medical building. Daryl shrugged. “That boy looks like death, his skin is rotting and nobody noticed?” He asked, looking at the group.

“Must have happened when he was taken off the IV,” Michonne stated, looking at the door. “But you're right, he shouldn’t have been brought out.” Rick sighed, hands on his hips. 

Fire. I burned through my veins. I was replaying the day over and over. The woods lit. Screaming and blood. Replay after replay.

A hand ruffled my hair as I pushed it off. My small hands patched up a jacket with a needle. “Me and some boys are going to go hunt for rabbit,” Negans said, looking down at me with a sight smirk. I smile back at him. “You be good and stay out of Bert's way, don’t think he likes us after the fight.” He whispered the last part and I nodded.

He had his bat and a bow. The others laughed and waved him over, he called to them and once again, ruffled my hair before leaving. There weren’t many people here, in the tiny civilization we called home. There were tents, big and small, for different families or groups. Groups of watchers are on the sides of the camp, keeping the people inside safe. 

I was in a group of girls, and my small body was not able to help the other boys, or at least that is what the others said, and my dad agreed with them. So I stayed with the other girls, helping out with washing, sewing, cleaning, and butchering. It wasn’t just because I was small. I played many sports and built up strength from them, but I was younger and smaller than the rest of the boys, even some girls my age. But I hadn’t minded, that meant I could stay away from one side of the camp. Bert ran half of the camp, and Harriot ran the other. They were connected, chores scattered in many places of the camp but both of them knew how to do two different things. Harriot was a kind woman, who showed me kindness and softness when meeting our small group at first. Then there was Bert, who hadn’t wanted us here in the first place. He fought my dad quite a lot. I’ve sometimes seen my dad grip his bat, looking at it in our shared tent when he thought I was asleep. Bert is an ass, to say the least. Someone you shouldn’t be near. But he wasn’t stupid. He kept his eyes trained on me most of the time. Sometimes I would make eye contact with him to see him glaring at me from afar. But he’d only mess with me when my dad was gone, or when Laura was not watching over me. 

I sat quietly, finishing up with the patched pants, that I was quite proud of, when I heard feet trail behind me. I look over my shoulder, folding the pants in my lap. Bert and a few boys, who looked like they wanted to kill me, stood with me with a grin plastered on his face.

“Boy.” He said, crossing his arms. “I think it’s time you do some real work, not sitting around like a little lady.” This made the boys laugh at me, I felt like a turtle that started to tuck into its shell. I glance at the pants and back at him.

“But… my dad said-” He interrupted me with a huff. “- blah, blah, blah.” He said, waving his hand. “I’m sure you’d be fine. You need to be a man, boy.” He said, grasping my arm and pulling me up. “Need to help or I’ll tie you in a tree, let the bitters get ya.” I gulped, nodded along with him as I stood, and placed the pants on the log where I sat. 

I was pulled along with the other group of boys, clearly smaller and younger than them. I let myself glance as we passed out of the camp ridge over at Bert’s side, near the butcher tent and fire. The dawn just started to settle. We stopped by the fire, where logs sat near a tree. “Now, c’mon boys.,” He said, clapping as they started moving logs. I looked around, confused without directions. Bert looked at me like I was stupid. “Dammit, boy. Move em’!” He yelled, pointing to the tent. I rapidly nodded and started to move the logs slowly. I had two in each arm, they were heavy but nothing I couldn’t manage. 

I felt the playful shove of my shoulder from one of the boys as he grinned and passed me quickly. I blush as I sit down the logs in the pile made. Older boy, by three years. 17, he was. I saw him around a lot, sometimes he would come and talk to me, ask me about how I used to live, or if I’d be joining him in some of the other's chores. Brunette with green eyes and a sweet apple-picked smile. His teeth were almost perfect, one back with a slight outward angle. He towered over me most times, but talked sweetly, sometimes pulling me to his chest when no one was around. Husten, or hue for short, was his name. He called me Pinky or Doll, he said it was because I always worked with the girls and I was smaller than him.

He’d brush my hair with his hands, playing with it, but listen to my ramble on about something stupid. He’d play with his foot under tables during supper, or bump my knee with his. He said his love language was physical contact. I remember, once I had a nightmare and wandered out at night where he was finishing up putting wood in the fire. He brought me back to his tent, where his father was out on watch. He had my head to his chest, rubbing my scalp and humming an old melody my mother used to sing. He rubbed my back until I fell asleep.

We always got along. It made me feel bubbly inside. However, I ignored this fact and went on with my chores. It started to get dark, and now the fire and a few lights lit up the trees as the boys finished up. I plucked up the last bit of logs as I stared at Hue, he was talking to some of the others. This caused me to trip over my feet and land in the mud. 

I heard laughter and a huge huff behind me as I lifted myself. The wood under me left my hands scraped and rugged. I hissed and looked at them as I was pulled up by my shirt collar. “Boy, you have annoyed me for the last goddamn time.” He said, gripping the sides of my arms. He then looked behind me and smiled. “Go get the rest, out past the orange line.” He said, pointing over to a spot that had been spray-painted. Danger at night. That is what it meant. The watchers could not see in specific spots at night and marked them not to go near at night and not to stray away from camp. You were only allowed over there if it was early morning and the watchers already checked the area. 

“Bert, it's not safe-” Hue tried to reason with the men, glancing at me. Bert interrupted him, shoving me back. “He has to be a man someday,” Bert stated, crossing his arms. “Now, go on boy, go get it.” 

I gulped and looked over to the darkness that clouded the trees. I gulped and looked back at him, other boys were smiling, grinning at my frozen state. It’s like they were waiting for my downfall. I breathed in, and out.

-

Carl stared at the body on the bed as monitors were giving the occasional beep. It had been a couple of days since the night. He sat close, sometimes going out of the walls for supplies or with his dad. Iris was also here a lot. She traveled back from Alexandria, conversating with Carl. Though, she said multiple times she wasn’t feeling it, standing around, waiting for the monitors to lead the beep on. Carl played with his hands, he’d open the blinds and let the sun pour into the room. His heart ran at times, wondering as he would space out for half hours and wonder. He left a stack of his comics on the bedside table to read when bored, but he never really had the thought to. 

(Two days ago)

Carol came out of the medical building and cleaned her hands. “The boy is fine. We needed to open the cut again. He stopped the bleeding, but the wound was still internal. We stitched him back up..” She paused, sighing as she looked at the group. “Kid knows what he’s doing, that was only meant to stop the bleeding until he could get attention. I’m honestly surprised he’s not dead… and Not to accuse anyone, but they should have known this was going to happen.” 

Rick, hands on hips and in thought, nodded. He rubbed his chin. “I… he’s only two years older than Carl, He saved Carl. That kid is different from his father and people need to see that.”

Rick was out in a few hours, looking for supply with Carl. They stopped at a gas station not too far along. Rick had a plan going along by now, Carl helped for the past two weeks, watching the plan form, and also understanding others were at war. 

“I’m glad he’s slept through most of this.” Said Rick, looking at Carl. Carl looked up at the sudden talk with a confused gaze. “He’s his father's son… but he’s got some different traits. Good traits.” He said, tilting his head as he looked at Carl. Carl only nodded. “Listen… He’ll be fine, He’ll be awake before you know it. The boy needs his rest." Silence bore into the conversation as Carl kicked a rock around. 

"How?" Carl’s eyebrows furrowed, refusing to look back up at his father's eyes. “How bad was it?” He whispered, looking at Rick's feet. Rick shook his head.

“Not the worst, but not the best. He could have died, honestly…” Rick heard Carl’s breath hitch. “Carol said he should be fine, it might take a while to fully recover.” 

-

I felt the slight wind knock against my skin, allowing me to shiver. The leaves crunched under my nervous foot as I passed the lined grass and into the seething darkness that captured me. I reached my destination. People behind me clapped as I picked up the last two logs. Heavy they were, as I turned on my feet and started to head back. 

-

As expected, the gurgling made me pause and freeze in my spot. I stared into pitch-black darkness. Nothing. I looked over at the group as Bert yelled at me to “hurry my ass up”. I gulped and started walking once again. I continued. I was at the fire that was near the butcher tent and orange line when a branch snapped to my right, and, in a split second, I hit a grill and fell onto the ground.

I could hear myself scream, having my clothed arm in its mouth, tearing at the leather. Its hands tried to reach my face. I felt the heat rise in my face, though I couldn’t tell if it was the situation I was in or the gigantic fire behind the biter. 

It was pulled off me in a matter of seconds. I rolled onto my stomach, the world spinning as I looked beside me. My eyes widened. Hue stood beside my lying body, a knife in hand as three biters crowded over him. Bert and the others were focused on the fire that was spreading rapidly. One lurched onto him, and he was able to kill that one, but the other was able to bite into his forearm, ripping out a chunk of skin. The third gripped his arm and bit into his neck, both causing a scream as he pulled it off. He kicked the third away, killing the second. 

I stared at him as he turned, holding his arm as blood started to flow out. “I-I… I-” I felt tears overflow my eyes as I stared at him. My hands gripped the dirt. He dropped his knife and fell to the ground in a sitting position as he stared at me. I was able to crawl over to him quickly, staring at him with wide eyes. He examined his arm, which continued to bleed out. He didn’t have long. 

“I… I like you, kid.” He said, with a smile, pain in his eyes. He breathed heavily. "You can’t be weak in this world… you’ll die just like me. Just like… I’m not built for this world.” He said. I shook my head and he only nodded, placing his bloodied hand on my face. I quickly held his bleeding forearm and he laughed, pressing his lips to mine, with little energy. “Run.” He whispered, falling against the tree he leaned on. I shook my head as I saw his eyes start to wave open and close. I heard him breathe in deep and shallowly, before letting his chest fall one last time. His eyes stared at me, keeping them open as I started to cry, shaking his shoulders.

“Wake- wake up!” I called him, his head falling. I gripped his sleeves, feeling my upper body start to fall and my forehead pressed against his knees as I sobbed.

Gripping hands threw me to the side and onto a tree. My pleas were unheard as Bert’s angry hands went to my face and threw me into the mud. The cutting started. Blood spilled down my arms. People ignored me, seeing me as a threat as he cut me up. I felt wasted, as blood rushed from my body slowly. My head was shoved into the dirt, and the fire was unsaveable.

People were rushing things away, trying to keep the fire from spreading further into the camp.

Everything was just a ringing tone in my ear. I felt the pain spread, and Bert's hands wandered as I lay helplessly on the ground. People refused to look at it, blaming the event on me, and letting me be cruelly punished. He would say things like, “You wanted all this attention, I’ll give it to you” or “I’ll get one last thing out of you before you die.” 

I felt tears welded into my eyes. My hands gripped the mud as he yanked off my clothes. What was I to do, weak, cut, and close to naked where nobody heard my cry for help, not even allowing a glance?

I remember his words. Run. I should have. I should have listened to Hue, he warned me. Like he said, you can’t be weak in this world.

Screaming. Not mine. I looked up, not moving my head. His face was ripped apart to where I could see his skull. Scared, I tried crawling away, but his grip stayed on me, not letting me go. I tried pushing away from him.

It wasn’t until someone pulled him off of me that I was able to get was, sobbing for the other to leave me alone. I was yanked up. “Hey, boy.” My dad said, looking over me. He yanked me to his chest, looking at the two dead. I saw. The biter ripped his face off, Hue. Dead. That made me cry harder as I stared at him. Everything started spinning.

Replay.

Chapter 9

[nofingjustaninchident]

now making it my life mission to spam your inbox with event requests 😇 (i'm aiming to request every single item you have on your post DJHDVWHJVWD) (so far so good 😏) (my love language is being an eternal pest 😚)

could i please request a “you and me, got a whole lot of history” for a little pjo/hoo found family moment? (like annabeth, percy, jason, leo, piper, frank, hazel, with nico + reyna mayhaps?) (and whoever else you think fits the bill!) i'm thinking they all have a movie night and leo brings his s/o and chaos ensues since none of them can be quiet during the movie. HOPEFULLY THAT MAKES SENSE 😭

BUT ANYWAYS! take your time my dear devoted delicate <3 I CAN'T WAIT TO SEE WHAT YA COOK UP 🍳 I LOVE U SO SO SO SO SO MUCH

sorry took me so long baby. please do this where are you you haven’t updated in two days- uhm... not wanna be pushy n all but have you seen the letter i wrote you? cuz u didn't say anything and that's so not eden-like............

⛧YOU AND ME, GOT WHOLE LOT OF HISTORY

“Leo’s bringing someone.” was the first sentence that Jason said when he entered Cabin 13, where all of their friends (except for said hephaestus boy) were waiting to start movie night. every single head turned to jason in a clear what the fuck look.

“what?” hazel and piper were the first to leave the stupor of the words that jason said, and both were equally shocked.

“i don’t know who. he just said he’d be bringing someone.” the blond boy said, leaving his contributions to movie night on top of nico’s headboard.

“but- how?” the ghost king asked, his jaw on the floor and his face paler than it usually was.

“again, i don’t-“

“i’m here, i’m here!” a little latino gremlin entered the cabin with a thud of the door on the wall, and everyone turned their heads to him, waiting to see if there was someone - anyone - there.

and, for everyone's surprise, there indeed was someone there. and you looked embarrassed, to say the very least.

leo had the biggest grin on his face, it was almost comical. "so, guys, this is y/n, my girlfriend." he dragged the word as if he wanted to make sure that everyone heard it. which was exactly what happened.

"hi." the girl said, waving at the nine other people in the room, which you recognized based on the directions that leo gave her. annabeth, the blonde with grey eyes. she's right beside percy, who'll probably be with something blue on his mouth. then there's hazel, the black girl with the pretty hair, frank, the asian baby. jason, blond with blue eyes and glasses. will, also blond with blue eyes but he's tanned. nico, short and white. reyna and piper look a lot like each other, but reyna is way taller.

"let's start the movie, shall we?" the latino boy said, pulling your hand as anyone could speake a single word.

as the movie went on, everyone couldn't seem to keep their mouths shut.

"how did you meet?"

"how can you stand him?"

"blink twice if you're being forced into this?"

but it was kinda funny. in the end, you got along really well with leo's friends, and the said boy almost passed out of embarrassment.

[theunfriendlyghost]

The World Belonged to Them

Timeskip!Kozume Kenma x GN! Reader

TW- alcohol use, cigarette smoking, Minors DNI!!!! This is not smut but contains adult themes

(ART DOES NOT BELONG TO ME!!)

A/N - this story just randomly came to me after my clubbing experiences recently and I wanted to share. I did not proof read this in the slightest so I apologize for any errors. There is room for a Pt. 2 so if you’d like to be added to the tag list, let me know 😃

Kenma’s ears rang as he stumbled onto the back patio of the club, shutting the door behind him, between the shots he had taken with the rest of his friends and the loud music pounding in his head, he was disoriented to say the least. He sat on a bench close to the street, listening to the buzz of cars go by, his thoughts quickly interrupted when someone plopped down next to him, leaning up against the back of the bench.

“Got a light?”

They asked, putting a cigarette into their mouth lazily, clearly just as intoxicated as he was.

“I’m sorry. I don’t.”

He said, flashing them a soft frown. He was never a smoker. He rarely ever even drank. But with Shoyo and Bokuto back in town for a home game, he felt almost pressured to keep up with them. This was supposed to be fun.

“It’s okay. I probly have one somewhere.”

The mystery person slurred, emptying the entire contents of their purse onto the bench next to him, sorting through all of their many items, mostly just old receipts, to find the lighter they were looking for. They shoved all of their stuff back into their purse before lighting the cigarette in their mouth.

“You want one?”

They asked, grinning at him.

“I’m okay. I don’t really smoke.”

He said, trying to sound as sober as possible. He couldn’t tell if it was because he was intoxicated or because he was happy to be in a quieter area, but something about this situation made him smile. It felt so fun and exciting.

“That’s okay. I usually don’t smoke either but I might be more drunk than I intended.”

They said, taking a long drag of the cigarette in their mouth and exhaling it away from Kenma, as to not get it in his face.

“My friend turned 21 today. I wanted them to have a good day. We had so much fun so far.”

They said with a drunken grin, staring into Kenma’s dazed eyes.

“I can see that.”

He said with a smirk. He was drunk, but probably not on the same level as them. The way they relaxed themselves on the bench was comical to say the least.

“I don’t go out a whole lot anymore because I work so often. I’m just happy to get out of the house for a bit, yknow? I like to be free”

The mysterious person said with a happy sigh, resting their hand holding the cigarette on their knee. Normally small talk like this would send Kenma into a spiral but between the smell of smoke, the stars twinkling in the sky, and the very faint sound of music coming from the building next to him, the situation felt fun. He was having fun. Something about the way the person next to him looked so free and happy made him want to feel the same. In his drunken haze, he grinned at them.

“I get that. Sometimes it’s fun to be free, I guess.”

He said, with an uncharacteristic twinkle in his eyes.

“You wanna see something fun?”

The person asked, lightly touching his arm and staring him dead in the eyes.

“Sure.”

He said, against everything he stood for. They grabbed his hand, dragging him to the street corner where there was not a single car in sight, dragging him into the middle of the street where he tugged back, glancing frantically from side to side.

“I don’t think this is safe. What if a car comes?”

He said, trying to drag them back to safety.

“It’s okay! It’s so late nobody is out.”

They said with a giggle, grabbing both of his hands and spinning them both around.

“Don’t you feel so free! The world is so quiet! It belongs to us!”

They said, continuing to spin them both around in the middle of the completely empty street, the cool night breeze blowing both of their hair in all different directions. He grinned, feeling exactly what they were feeling. Their happiness and care free attitude was contagious.

“Yeah. I guess I do.”

He said, grinning back at them. At the sound of a car buzzing closer, they grabbed Kenma’s hands, dragging him back to the safety of the sidewalk and giggling, watching the car drive past. They both giggled until their stomachs hurt, leaning themselves against the fence closest to the sidewalk.

“KENMA!”

They both whipped around, glancing at the tall dark haired male calling his name and storming towards the both of them.

“The fuck are you doing? We’ve been looking for you. Who’s this?”

He asked, glancing down at the person grinning at Kenma, holding his hand. Suddenly, the realization hit and he shot Kenma a knowing smirk, which made Kenma’s cheeks heat up.

“Sorry Kuroo.”

He said, letting go of the persons hand, making them frown. Kuroo stepped in, knowing both of them were too drunk to properly make a move.

“I’m Kenma’s designated driver so unfortunately I’ve gotta take him home. What was your name?”

Kuroo asked, grinning down at them.

“(L/N) (F/N). You can call me (F/N) though. I like it better.”

They said with a grin.

“Kenma, huh?”

They asked, remembering they hadn’t even gotten the poor boy’s name. He nodded in response, smiling at them with his glassy eyes, swaying from side to side from a mixture of the spinning and the alcohol.

“You got a ride home, (F/N)?”

Kuroo asked, looking down at them with a mixture of amusement and pity.

“I’ll be okay! My friends are all inside they’ll make sure I get back okay. I just needed some air. Sorry for borrowing your friend”

They said with an apologetic smile. Kuroo smiled back, playfully hitting Kenma’s arm.

“Kenma. Get your phone out. Go ahead and exchange numbers”

He said, knowing the two were not focused enough to initiate such a move. Kenma pulled his phone out, handing it to them with a grin. They grabbed the phone eagerly, typing in their number and their name in all caps with several emojis next to it before handing it back.

“Text me.”

They said, leaning against the fence. He texted them a barely coherent text, making their phone buzz in their pocket. They stared at the text, their eyes sparkling at the message.

‘I think ur prety 😃’

They gave him a thumbs up, showing they got the message.

“Thanks for hanging out with me, Kenma. Let’s hang out for real sometime!”

They said as Kuroo escorted them back to the door of the club so that they could safely find their friends, wanting to ensure that his best friend’s new beauty made it back home in one piece.

“Yeah. Let’s.”

He said with a soft smile, lazily waving goodbye as he got dragged back to the car by his best friend. There were no promises that either of them would remember this interaction but tonight, the world was quiet, and it belonged to them.

[argentsunshine]

have you posted about your characterization of Joker? i really like your takes about him and would love if it were explained, but understand if not

i don't think i've posted about it explicitly beyond writing fics and comics, but i do think about it a lot

i acknowledge that everyone picks different options for their akira(/ren, i'll be calling him akira here in case i have to differentiate between his real world and metaverse personas), but imo there are way more basic facts about akira that are the same regardless of what dialogue options you pick than people act like there are

he's quiet

he's not really a silent protagonist unless you're incredibly broad with the term, but he still isn't exactly the most talkative guy. you may be saying mr argent sunshine, this is obvious, why are you bothering to state this. well you see i often joke that i have a test where i back out of a fanfic if anyone describes akira as "loud", "talkative", or anything else to that effect. i have seen this so often and it drives me insane. especially when people portray him as like, a quirky hyperactive ditz constantly saying stupid shit...? people can be funny while saying very few words, guys. (sometimes it's even funnier to say less. wild concept.)

also, while the doylist purpose of his quietness is obvious - making the player pick a line every other sentence would get annoying and would force them to write and record way more dialogue to account for all the responses - i think it's interesting to examine from a watsonian perspective. was he always quiet, or is it a mask in the same way as the glasses are? i personally imagine him always being on the quiet side, but it's a space you could play in.

2. caring so deeply about everyone and everything all the time

this to me is the real core of akira's character. the defining moment of his whole deal to me is the one-two punch of him saving a woman he didn't know and losing everything for it, and, when arsene asks, him saying doing that was not a mistake, i'd do it again if i had to, even though the woman he was trying to save turned around and lied to the police, resulting in his arrest. he comforts ann when they barely know each other, he awakens to arsene in the first place while trying to protect ryuji, who he's known for all of ten minutes. yes, he loves his friends and found family dearly (and i'm sure when i started talking about things that are true no matter what option you pick someone went "oh like how akechi will still be akira's wish in maruki's reality no matter what you do", yeah, that too) but he's also ready to throw himself into harm's way for the sake of people he's never met.

(if someone wants my full rant on this point ask me about sojiro akira parallels but a side point to this is that he's deeply unselfish, to a level that may not be healthy in the long run. he just so happens to have gotten the exact magic powers to make his heroics feasible. i'm just saying, without getting persona powers he still would have managed to draw kamoshida's anger, and he would have been expelled and probably gone to juvie! but he still would have done it because he can't just look away.)

3. oh god i don't want this to turn into a whole full rant so now i have to pick one last point then shut up. oh god oh fuck. i could talk about akira forever but nobody wants to sit through that. let's talk about masks.

i don't think of joker as The Real Akira as much as his metaverse appearance is another facet of him. looking at him from another angle. i think his flair for the dramatic is fun and i love him, but i also think the concept of theatrics and illusion and trickery (ha) being built so deep into him is very important. even though it's always for the greater good, he does tell people what they want to hear a lot (off the top of my head, maybe 1/3 to 1/2 of his non-PT confidants are at least somewhat based on false pretenses right from the start, even if they make him come clean in the end, and a lot of the rest involve akira being exactly who the person needs him to be.) you could argue that akira's always pretending to literally everyone fully all the time (I don't think this is true; i think he obscures parts of himself to make himself more useful or palatable to others, but i think arguing his connections are inauthentic is a) edgelord bullshit or, more commonly, shipper brain if they're arguing only one connection is authentic b) just not consistent with the way people work. i'm personally of the opinion that we're all always presenting tailored versions of ourselves to everyone around us - i'm ruder around my friends but kinder around my parents; openly ramble about my interests to my online friends but tend to keep a lid on them irl - these don't make some of my connections fake, it's just a difference in the facets people see. i don't think akira's tendecy to present different masks around different people is neccasarily the best way to go about life (in that i think it Will lead to an identity crisis inevitably) but it's definitely A Thing!

i lost track of what i was saying at the end there so i'll stop talking