#OH AND HOW COULD I FORGET

[atlaskrr]

dont you hate it when you ship a rarepair and most of the content is ooc and/or horny cause nobody understands their actual dynamic. yeah me too.

[gnome-adjacent-vagabond]

Doing a compromise and posting an EXCERPT of the Johnny and Einstein fic. Trigger warnings will be up here and in the tags; the story will be under the cut. Please let me know if I miss any!

A little context first: Jonathan and Einstein have been hiding out in a motel in South Bend for a long while, and they killed the motel owner (well, not killed, per se...he died of pneumonia). This is a moment of reflection from Einstein's pov in the wee hours after Jonathan has fallen into a very heavy sleep.

Trigger warnings: nongraphic violence, blood mention, surgery mention, drugging (noncon), non consensual touching, murder mention, crime in general, toxic relationship, obsession. This fic's content is looking askance at somnophilia but it isn't TECHNICALLY somnophilia.

Saving Face (working title)

Einstein liked him best when he was asleep.

That wasn’t to say he wasn’t in awe of Jonathan Brewster when he was awake—he was! His purposeful gait, his burning eyes, his frightful and inquiring mind…the man was a terror and a wonder, but one to be observed from afar like a tiger in a zoo. It was incredible that he let Einstein get even this close to him. When he was asleep, though…well, that was a different story altogether. Einstein could get as close as he liked.

The moments when his companion actually closed his eyes and rested his mind were few and far between; Johnny slept infrequently. When he did, he slept light at best. At worst, he was half-awake, his heavy lids fluttering as he dozed in whatever corner they had tucked themselves into for the night. That said, his dreams never appeared troubled. He was ever so still, his breaths slow and steady with only the occasional sniff or sigh. He never snored, he never shifted—it was as if he died every night. The peacefulness of his slumber had been unsettling at first, especially that first time in London when they hid out in the abandoned tenement building. They’d been on the move without rest; Einstein hadn’t slept for two days. Yet Johnny had settled down in a moldy armchair and gone out like a light. After everything that had happened, he just went to sleep like it was nothing and woke up in good spirits the next day.

Einstein remembered fixating on the relative stranger’s hands in those forty-eight hours: They were long, curious things like great pale spiders at the end of either arm, ever restless and roving when he was awake. They were strong, too, as Einstein had seen when Johnny choked the life out of that poor young officer. He would later see they were also dexterous with a knife. During the night, though, they laid still and perfect in his lap or the arms of the chair, and Einstein had crouched at his side and gazed at them in admiration. These were what had made him stay—the chance to see those clever hands at work again was an intoxicating prospect. Now, five years on, he had watched them perform miracles over a hundred times.

Over the next half a decade, when the nightmares kept him from sleep or he was on first watch, Einstein stared at Johnny for hours, admiring his slack features as an artist admires one of his own paintings. Very little had actually changed about Johnny’s face, in his opinion, which was the result of meticulous effort on his part. Skin had been added and removed, stitches administered here and there, lips widened and shortened, but Einstein could still see his Johnny under all the other masks. It was most apparent in sleep, when the face and body were freed of pain and stiffness. Something remained of the aristocratic nose, the puppyish chin, the impish mouth. The mouth was most recognizable when Johnny smiled, rare as that was. He hadn’t done it often to begin with, and the constant facial reconstructions didn’t make it easy. Einstein had accomplished something great with every face—well, almost every face. He had always wanted Johnny to stay himself. He fought with him about every surgery, every change, and when he was inevitably shouted down he went to work with the intent to preserve, not to erase. The eyes, arresting in their intensity, were most important; Einstein couldn’t bear to alter such a captivating gaze. He turned Johnny’s features into a tribute to his soul, a work of art in which the centerpieces were two darkened windows. He strove to carve new odes into his muse each time he took the scalpel in hand, never repeating a previous modification and never failing to frame the eyes that were so dear to him with the utmost reverence. Johnny, whose aesthetic preferences were limited to shades of red and sanguinous pink, was none the wiser.

Sometimes, on the quietest nights when there was no chance of sirens jerking them both out of their dreams, Einstein would caress Johnny—never on the face, for that would wake him for sure. It was always the chest or arms. It was a surefire way to get himself hurt or killed—if he was ever caught he was sure he would wish he’d never been born. But, he reasoned, there was no safer time to be near the man to whom he had given his life, except perhaps when he was under anesthesia. Every so often he would slip Johnny a little something in his food or drink, just so he could actually hold him in his arms, cradle him and stroke his hair without worrying about the beast stirring. Johnny never found out, of course; Einstein wouldn’t be alive now if he had. Usually he woke up groggy and in high dudgeon a few hours later, angry that he’d overslept. Einstein would then depart, giddy and fearful until he got a few drinks in him. Johnny had all the fun, after all, and Einstein had been so loyal, so devoted…he deserved a reward. It wasn’t so much to ask, was it? To be held and pretend he was loved back.

It wasn’t a perfect arrangement by any means. The fear of waking him tainted his tenderness with caution and often shook his resolve so badly that he fled the area after only a minute. Even now as Einstein lay with his head against Johnny’s chest and their fingers interlaced, he trembled at the memory of those poor men in Chicago. Liars, traitors all three of them, but Johnny hadn’t had to use the Melbourne Method on the first two. He could have just snapped their necks. Einstein knew he could. But no, some things were personal, and Johnny liked a little fun now and then.

Einstein shivered and nestled further into the crook of his sleeping companion’s arm. He’d run out of schnapps about an hour ago, and though it had calmed his nerves somewhat he could feel that familiar chill creeping back to him. It was hard not to think about it when he had himself wrapped up in the very same arms that not two weeks ago had been wrist-deep in a heaving stomach. Einstein, his hands coated in bile and viscera from helping, had sat down and wept until Johnny boxed his ears so badly that one of them bled. But it wouldn’t do to think of these things now! It was quiet here, and relatively clean—they’d found a motel in South Bend, a rare treat, and Johnny had deemed it safe enough to sleep in.

[diaryofamadsunwukongfan]

Man that cheats on his wife and treats his daughter like an afterthought is sympathetic. Boy who is angry at his father's murderer for being the reason he had to be the king at 12 is not. Former child slave who want's direct action against the ruling institution is not.

I can't fucking do this anymore

[networkunsupported]

(sees smth about a couple who hate each other) omg this is so rexcas (sees smth about a couple who hate each other) omg this is so rexcas (sees sm

[the-lonelyshepherd]

OCs flower pressing as a hobby yes or no

i think shay would start and get really into it for TWO days and then never touch it again. but catalina would stick with it but like. not obsessively but every now and then. just in her little notebook. this reminds me i wanna draw pages out of her notebook. hmmm

[wuffgang-ameowdeus-moozart]

all characters who would do this on their car:

have

mommy AND daddy issues 💖

[darklight-owl]

Jsyk I haven't finished Azran Legacy yet and my assumption for continuity's sake is that everyone who isn't in the original trilogy is dead.

[i-will-steal-your-knees]

An addendum to my Future Titan Luz post: Future Abomination Amity

Plus:

(Also so sorry if the text part shows up weird, it’s showing black text as I type it)

[somewhereincairparavel]

i will never understand how people have the heart to hate Jason even after they found out that his Ambrosia tastes like fucking sawdust. Ambrosia being tasty is like one single happy thing a demigod can have despite their tragic lives, because it reminds them of the home they once had, but lost. And Jason doesn't even have that, he doesn't even have a home to lose in the first place.

[potatobugz]

objects loving objects baby!!!!

[honeybard]

if there's one thing about Lou Wilson it's that he goes above and beyond when given the option to sabotage himself and his party

[swiggity-swexual-i-am-asexual]

As per usual, it’s DP crossover with (probably) DC, although you could probably adjust it for other fandoms

ANYWAYS

A little kid and his mother are trick or treating in another city, perhaps at some kind of event rather than knocking on doors, and the kid is dressed as Phantom. It’s very adorable, with his little ghost-shaped bucket and clearly homemade and already stained costume—listen, white only works if you can just fly over street grime or phase it out of your clothes—and his slightly I’ll fitting wig. The kid is SO happy to be out and about dressed as his favorite, and maybe even showed it off to Phantom back in Amity Park before his family left.

The hero, insert whoever you wish here, is probably in civvies and just enjoying the event. The kid, meanwhile, is so glad when people ask who he is so he can explain, and so- the hero gets to hear ALL ABOUT the local town hero who is probably pretty small time despite the kid’s clearly exaggerated stories. The hero certainly never heard of him, but the kid’s mom confirms that Phantom really was the town hero, despite some mixed reviews of the poor guy.

“Did you manage to show him your costume?” the hero asks.

“Yeah! We went down to the cemetery to leave flowers and I got to show him my costume.”

Wait. Cemetery? Maybe it was part of theme, because Phantom had to be named that for a reason, but… it sounded like…

The kid ignores the suddenly VERY still hero and instead turns to his mom. “Momma, do you think we should bring him candy? He doesn’t get to trick or treat like we do, and I can work super hard to get him a bunch!”

The kid’s mom just smiles. “We could, but maybe we should bring him something homemade. I bet he’d like something more filling, teen boys like him have a hollow leg.”

The kid wrinkles his nose. “Like Vernie with the pizza bagels?”

“Like your cousin, yes. We can make some cinnamon rolls and take them to his memorial, maybe bring some of the apples from your grandpa’s garden…”

The hero is pretty much forgotten as the two-part family wanders off, not quite intentionally forgetting the hero is there so much as the hero somewhat accidentally ended the conversation when they just froze and didn’t ask anything further.

Not that the hero didn’t want to. But they’d learn something very serious.

One—there was a small town hero they’d never heard of. Two—that hero was apparently a teen. Third—most pressingly, the teen hero was both beloved enough to have kids dressing up as him and dead enough to have a grave.

This… might require some phone calls.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Happy Halloween! 🧼🥩🎃

[iamjackstylerdurden]

imagine being lawrence gordon. you spent 6 hours in a dirty bathroom with a dead guy and a twink. you then had to cut your foot off and shoot and abandon said twink (that you spent the last 6 hours falling in love with). you make it down the hallway when the (not) dead guy grabs you and said ‘you work for me now’ (does being an apprentice even pay?). the next day you go to your apartment, take a big sigh of relaxation and turn on the tv. and 9/11 is happening

[casualavocados]

Learn from who? Learn from you?

Chen Bowen as CHEN YI & Chiang Tien as AI DI KISEKI: DEAR TO ME (2023)

[welcometogrouchland]

All the DC gotcha4gaza prompts I've completed since my last post! Donations are over now but there's still more art to come, so stay tuned!