#The 'Do not enter!' stone

[junosmindpalace]

s/o asking dcst characters what hairstyle do they like the best on them? (like braid, low/high ponytail, bun, hair down, etc?) some fluff :)

preferably with senku, gen, ryusui, sai and tsukasa, but feel free to change the characters if you want to ^_^

thank you very much for you request!

a/n: if the premise didn't give it away...reader is implied to have long enough hair for styling in certain ways, but i did my best to be vague ;,)

SENKU: hair tied back.

-He’s not the type to care so much as to have a preference. Consciously, at least.

-But you spend loads of time with him in the lab, doing experiments or just spectating as he performs his own. Either way, most of your time with Senku is spent with your hair tied back. 

-Whether it be a headband or hair clips or a hair tie, you’ve gotta have it outta the way when you’re in the lab. So for the most part Senku is accustomed to seeing you with your hair back.

-And as everyone knows, science is his greatest love. He loves doing experiments, he loves learning about science, he loves talking about it, he loves it when people indulge him in his rants and is able to talk about it unfiltered with the person on the other end not only being able to keep up, but add on to the conversation meaningfully. 

-And you do all of that. 

-The connection here is weird, but bear with it!!

-There is nothing more attractive to Senku than someone who is passionate, and can keep up with him, as his general company usually cannot. Someone who takes an interest in his interests, and are capable and witty--and kind. 

-And because you spend so much time with Senku doing science related activities--going to museums, doing experiments, talking about theories, spending time in the lab--that big love of science sort of becomes synonymous with you.

-He starts seeing you just a little differently during all of those times when your hair is back; when you say something witty, when you laugh victoriously at a successful or aweful experiment, when you challenge his views with ideas of your own. When you best demonstrate your intellect and curiosity, all things that Senku finds leave a stirring in his chest and when he sort of views you at your most beautiful, your hair is tied back.

-So even though on the surface he really doesn’t care how you choose to wear your hair, subconsciously, he’ll always find you at your most beautiful when your hair is back, associating it with the thing that made him so attractive to you in the first place. 

“I don’t really care.”

“Can you not be difficult for once?” You deadpan from behind your goggles. He doesn’t even spare you a glance when he responds to your question, keeping his eyes trained on the various beakers in front of him as he circles the counter they were sitting on. You huff as you approach the opposite end of the counter, lowering yourself to be at eye level with his engrossed gaze. “I mean--really? You don’t have any style that stands out to you?”

“Maybe if you randomly shaved it all off.”

“So you like buzzcuts?” 

“I don’t care.” He repeats back, this time finally looking up to shoot you an irritated look through a slit in between two beakers, and you huff, muttering about how he’s no fun before getting back to the experiment at hand. 

But when he’s certain you aren’t paying attention to him any longer, he lets his eyes find you again, and they linger as he takes in your features. 

He can’t help but think back to your question as he does so, his mind simulating various styles he’s seen you wear your hair in almost like a makeover game. 

They’ve all been nice, every single one he envisions in his mind. Some quirkier and more elaborate than he personally prefers in general, but still; nice. 

The simulation ends in his mind's eye and he’s back to present day you, with your hair tied back as it often is with all the experiments the two of you work on, and he can’t help but think he has a certain appreciation he just can’t describe for it. All he knows is that he likes it and that it suits you it in a way that leaves his heart skipping a beat, and if he really had to answer your question, he’d probably say that he preferred this style.

GEN: hair down, framing face.

-It’s a more modern, glamorous preference, what can he say. 

-It’s pretty stereotypical, but there’s a reason why it’s so appealing. 

-He likes how perfect your hair looks, as if you came out of a dream. 

-It just takes his breath away; of course you look gorgeous any time, but when you go out of your way to style your hair all shiny with delicate and elaborate pieces framing your face, his breath gets caught in his throat and he’s staring a little too much. 

-It’s maybe because it’s more rare; you’re not always going to have the energy to style your hair so elaborately, so it’s more of a treat that he can’t help but appreciate. It’s a good kind of different. It only enhances your already gorgeous features and he can’t help but grow warm at the sight. 

-He’s embarrassing, really. It’s soo obvious he has this preference, but it’s also endearing the way he can’t stop making heart eyes at you. He’s sooo fucking smug with himself when you hold his arm when you wear your hair so elaborately, as if he’s showing off a treasure chest of gold--though not even all the jewels in the world could amount to you. 

-Also likes to twirl the framing pieces with his finger. He thinks he’s so slick, he tries to be 100% more charming. You just make him so nervous with how gorgeous you look, he feels the need to make up for his own feelings of inadequacy. Especially when other people also appreciate the look as well. 

“So you think I’m ugly, then?”

“I never said that!” 

You snort at his horrified expression, crying out defensively when you accused him of only finding you attractive with the glamorous hairstyles he had been dreamily going on and on about since you asked him, with his answer being a lot longer than you anticipated. 

“I’m kidding! But really? I rarely style my hair like that.”

“I can’t help what I like.” He replies simply, leaning an arm back against the trunk of the tree the two of you were sitting against as he leans over to tug at the ends of your hair. “It’s grown out a bit.” 

“Not like I can get a proper haircut in this era; or a glamorous look.”  You state frustratedly, observing both yours and Gen’s primitive clothing slightly distastefully. It could be absolutely worse, but you miss your old, comfortable, stylish clothes along with the elaborate do’s you’d get done for special events.

Gen could only turn his brows up empathically and offer you a shrug, pulling his hand away from your locks of hair. “Haaah…well, what can you do?” 

He stares at you from the corner of his eye, however, a playful smile dancing across his lips.

“You don’t need it, though. You look breathtaking all the time.” 

You snort again and roll your eyes at the exaggerated compliment, but lean in closer so you could rest your head against his shoulder. 

“Wish I could say the same about you.”

“Oh, you wound me.” 

RYUSUI: he likes them all…but likes when you accessorize your hair. 

-It’s criminal that you'd ask him such a question, really.

-When he absolutely ADORES all of them. 

-Each one makes you a different kind of endearing that he just can’t get enough of, from simple, lazier looks to time-consuming and expensive do’s that make you look like you belong on the red carpet--which he always thinks you do, by the way (not to mention he funds all your trips to your stylist).

-He genuinely has to wrack his brain and pick apart all of your looks if you really insist on him answering the question properly. He thinks of all the updos, all the curls and waves and straightening, all the specific cuts…and he STILL can’t pick a favorite.

-Sorry, you can’t get much more out of him than that. He can go on and explain the appeal of each one if that's what it’ll take for you to realize what you’re asking isn’t so easy to answer. 

-To satisfy you, however, he does say that he particularly loves it when you accessorize your hair in one way or another. He likes the creativity, and it just suits your hair type so well. Whatever it might be--pretty hair ties, any special head accessories, whatever--, he thinks it only enhances your already incredible look. 

“Ryusui, I don’t care about all that. Can you please just answer properly?”

He gets where your exasperation is coming from, truly; after all, he’s the one having the most difficulty answering your question as he illustrates in detail what’s going on in his mind as he thinks, every hairstyle having its own charm that he adores. 

“But how can I pick? I love them all!” 

You frown at him for a moment before eventually sighing and shrugging your shoulders, putting your hands up in surrender as you sit down on one of the benches in his workroom. “Okay, fine. If you can’t choose, you can’t choose.” 

“Exactly!” he says almost relieved, pointing the pencil he was using to make blueprints at you. But even so, he follows and takes a seat on the bench beside you and continues to go through that mental list of hairstyles he’s seen you wear as he leans his head back against the wall and eyes your strands of hair. 

There’s a pause between the two of you for a moment before he says, with all the seriousness in the world: “But you know…I especially like when you accessorize them.” 

You tilt your head to look at him and raise your brows. “Accessorize? With what?”

“With anything. Any way you wear your hair is gorgeous, but it’s somehow even better with something in it.” and as he says this, he brings the pencil he had been twirling between his fingertips up to your face, tucking it into the strands by your temple. You laugh when he pulls away, and he can't help but smile.  

Yup, any accessory.

SAI: anything with a braid.

-He is SO flustered when you ask.

-And even more embarrassed when you insist he gives you a straight answer after he meekly responds that he loves every single one of your looks.

-And it’s the truth!!!

-But you still want a singular, concise answer, so he thinks, nervous that this might be some sort of test he has to pass. 

-And like his brother, he truly can’t pick one specific look that he really likes. 

-But then he spots a pattern when he reflects on looks that he’s really liked and realizes they all shared a common feature: they all had some sort of braid in them.

-Doesn’t care about the style, length, thickness, whatever. Whether it’s one big one or two small ones framing your face or your entire head braided, he loves them. He loves the variety, and in general he just finds the design so beautiful. 

-He doesn’t admit it when he answers your question, but he finds himself even more in awe of your hair if the braids in one way or another are accessorized. A ribbon, a bandana, whatever, he thinks it adds to the look tenfold. But he thinks just the simple braids on their own look gorgeous.

“If this is another one of your tests--!”

“I promise it isn’t! Can you please just answer?” 

He stares at you expectantly, and a little bit nervously, as he tilts his head away from yours. 

“I mean…” he starts carefully, still not fully convinced by your words. “I like them all…”

You give him a look that tells him you aren’t convinced by his words, and he finds himself getting irritated again from the (completely unnecessary) pressure of the question. “It’s the truth!” 

“Yeah, but! Don’t you have one specifically?” 

“I don’t know…”

You huff, frustrated by his lack of response, and take a step away from him. He mentally sighs in relief over being free from the hounding. “Not even one?” You try for the final time. He pursues his lips and thinks on your question again.

He likes that one time you wore your hair up; he really liked that one. And then that other time you had a sort of half up half down. And those unique buns were also pretty nice...

And as he continues to reflect on instances where he found himself doing a double take over your hair, he realizes that all of them share one detail in particular. 

“Braids.”

“Hm?” 

“I like…when you wear braids.”

Not actually expecting a genuine answer, you can only stare and blink at him. His face grows warmer at the blank eye contact, pink rising up his face at your lack of a reaction. “What?!”

“Nothing! I just didn’t expect that.” 

But after your initial shock, you can't help but smile at how bashful he is over his answer, and he only grows even more exasperated (and embarrassed) when you now badger him about which specific braid styles he likes best.

TSUKASA: low styles, specifically hair down. 

-It’s simple, but it's the simplicity that’s so beautiful to him. 

-He likes to be able to touch your hair one way or another, whether by patting your head, twirling the strands or raking his fingers through the locks, and having it in an updo or some sort of elaborate hairstyle means he cannot do that. Doesn’t mean that he doesn’t like them of course! But if he were to have a favorite hairstyle, it’s a more casual one. 

-There isn’t all that much to it. He isn’t one to find a specific style uglier or superior, but he likes that this specific style is so versatile; it doesn’t necessarily have to be open either. Whether it’s in a low hairstyle like a bun or a ponytail, he just likes the lower styles better. 

“What hairstyle do you like best on me?”

It’s quiet in the classroom the two of you are sitting in, most of the students simply lounging and drifting around as they wait for their next class to begin. You and Tsukasa respectively lean your arm against your heads to bring them closer together, faces only inches apart as you talk lowly among each other. A little break to catch up after spending the busy school day mostly apart. 

He watches you as a finger circles around a stray strand of your hair, brows ever so slightly creasing together. “Hairstyle?”

“Yeah, like…do you prefer my hair in buns? In waves? Think I’d look good with an undercut?” 

He glances at the hair curled over his finger and framing your face, thinking to himself for a moment as he mulls over the question in his head. “I like your hair right now.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I like it down.” he mutters with a small smile, twisting the soft strands between the pads of his fingers, reveling in the sensation and watching the curl it creates bounce.

“You don’t like waves, or a cut of some kind or…?”

“I do. But you said to pick one, right?”

And with all the love and attention he’s showing your hair as he delicately cards his fingers through the strands, you can’t help but smile and hum in validation, satisfied enough with his answer. Enjoying the relaxing sensation of your hair being played with, you rest your head down on the desk, and he smiles at your content expression.

[wildstar25]

MiqoMarch Day 08 - Fav. (Side) Job

When she's not running around as Ninja or Summoner , Arsay's next choice is the lance. Being bestowed a source of draconic power by Midgardsormr moments before his slumber, and knowing how to channel the powers of Bahamut with dreadwyrm trance, Arsay's power as a Dragoon rivals that of even the former Azure Dragoon. With that said, she'd much rather use her polearm to hunt monsters.

[outoftoucherlocksholmes]

(american roadside billboard voice) HEAVEN is REAL and it is IN FLORIDA

[elisedonut]

Me like two weeks ago:

OK but I would love to see more fics with multiple Percy ships tagged where Perciver is not the endgame

Me now working on a Percy lovers timeline for a fic:

👉👈 Ok but what if... what if- Perciver endgame 👉👈

[thetangibleghost]

I think we might have trauma tied to the literal feeling of falling asleep/waking up. Like we get nightmares that are just. The feeling of changing concousness but drawn out + adrenaline + terror

[jrueships]

DOES HE HAVE ANY REDEEMING QUALITIES OR AT LEAST A SAD BACKSTORY I'M CRINE

no, LOL

[comfortunit]

it's been a couple years, now, of dialoguing with my headmates specifically about sex (including laying reasonable boundaries for the minors, thankfully we only have one aging little who is 12-13 and that's our youngest headmate) and it's weird but also makes so much sense how much systemhood impacts sex for me/us. like despite my history of doing in-person sexwork the idea of going back to it repulses me, but so does the idea of any in-person sex. i don't know if it's because of the pandemic or top surgery (because i put everything on hold for that... and then boom pandemic... blessing and a curse because it gave me plenty of time to recover) but also i haven't released videos from the waist up since 2019. on one hand i miss sexwork for the connection it gave me to other people during a transaction where boundaries were explicit and established beforehand. but on the other hand whatever autistic masking i was forcing myself to do, in combination with february fronting for most in-person and full service sw anyway, it's like i can't go back to pretending i'm not touch averse, can't go back to forcing myself to accept physical touch. can't go back to physical intimacy. makes me queasy. i think i'm past grieving about it by several months but it's weird to think about. i don't even like synchronous video anymore.

[baynton]

idk how to make this into a fic but it's the best exchange i've ever written (it's patcap i wrote this for patcap)

[the-punforgiven]

I forgot how easy it was to level up Somber stone weapons, like damn

[sergioguymanproust]

Once you reach true balance in your life,once you can ground your emotions and be like a monk, on top of your energy ,you will respect the sanctity of life ,where you can observe a fragile bird and respect its existence,its very spark and not end its life with a bullet ,a stone or an arrow to prove how strong you are.As you move through the woods ,valleys,mountains,hills ,you will come in contact with many a wild creature,they will be aware of you before you have them on sight. Remember the animal instinct is 1,000 times stronger than yours,considering that we are all animals too.Don’t create dependency on wildlife like feeding birds if, you aren’t capable of supporting your deeds specially in the middle of winter.We shamans often travel trails in the middle of nowhere and find many species of birds but we know we must let them be free.Shamans know that all living things do have a spirit,just like we have a soul .Enjoy nature ,and bless every creature.Not to say that if a grizzly comes for you ,you mustn’t protect your life ,of course you must, survival requires that each species must fight or flight. Well, remembering your place in the scale of prey or predator,will save you unnecessary grief and pain.Always carry protection to be used only in extreme risky situations.Stay safe and make room for creatures that need a wide berth as you hike the woods.Words by Sergio GuymanProust.

[mint-is-here]

I am going insane over my Sk8ter boy au but WHY DO YOU HAVE SO MANY PLOTHOLE WHY ARE YOU SO UNDIFIED I LOVE YOU BUT WHYYY

[iiusia]

'Then the Lord answered Job out of the whirlwind, and said: “Who is this who darkens counsel By words without knowledge? Now prepare yourself like a man; I will question you, and you shall answer Me.

“Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth? Tell Me, if you have understanding. Who determined its measurements? Surely you know! Or who stretched the line upon it? To what were its foundations fastened? Or who laid its cornerstone, When the morning stars sang together, And all the sons of God shouted for joy? “Or who shut in the sea with doors, When it burst forth and issued from the womb; When I made the clouds its garment, And thick darkness its swaddling band; When I fixed My limit for it, And set bars and doors; When I said, ‘This far you may come, but no farther, And here your proud waves must stop!’

“Have you commanded the morning since your days began, And caused the dawn to know its place, That it might take hold of the ends of the earth, And the wicked be shaken out of it? It takes on form like clay under a seal, And stands out like a garment. From the wicked their light is withheld, And the upraised arm is broken. “Have you entered the springs of the sea? Or have you walked in search of the depths? Have the gates of death been revealed to you? Or have you seen the doors of the shadow of death? Have you comprehended the breadth of the earth? Tell Me, if you know all this. “Where is the way to the dwelling of light? And darkness, where is its place, That you may take it to its territory, That you may know the paths to its home? Do you know it, because you were born then, Or because the number of your days is great? “Have you entered the treasury of snow, Or have you seen the treasury of hail, Which I have reserved for the time of trouble, For the day of battle and war? By what way is light diffused, Or the east wind scattered over the earth?

“Who has divided a channel for the overflowing water, Or a path for the thunderbolt, To cause it to rain on a land where there is no one, A wilderness in which there is no man; To satisfy the desolate waste, And cause to spring forth the growth of tender grass? Has the rain a father? Or who has begotten the drops of dew? From whose womb comes the ice? And the frost of heaven, who gives it birth? The waters harden like stone, And the surface of the deep is frozen. “Can you bind the cluster of the Pleiades, Or loose the belt of Orion? Can you bring out Mazzaroth in its season? Or can you guide the Great Bear with its cubs? Do you know the ordinances of the heavens? Can you set their dominion over the earth?

“Can you lift up your voice to the clouds, That an abundance of water may cover you? Can you send out lightnings, that they may go, And say to you, ‘Here we are! ’? Who has put wisdom in the mind? Or who has given understanding to the heart? Who can number the clouds by wisdom? Or who can pour out the bottles of heaven, When the dust hardens in clumps, And the clods cling together? “Can you hunt the prey for the lion, Or satisfy the appetite of the young lions, When they crouch in their dens, Or lurk in their lairs to lie in wait? Who provides food for the raven, When its young ones cry to God, And wander about for lack of food?'

Job 38:1-41

[sayruq]

Rafah Crossing and Kerem Shalom Crossing have been closed since the Rafah invasion began. The little aid that trickled in kept its starving population alive and hospitals open. Israeli settlers have increasingly attacked aid trucks preventing them from entering the Strip by destroying bags of flour and blocking the streets with stones, all while the Israeli army bombed water pipes and warehouses storing aid.

And now they're doing this

This was an attempt to lynch to a Palestinian because they thought he was bringing food and fuel to a population that's being bombed hundreds of times a day

[trianglegoddess]

Feral McGee™

It starts with the Joker. 

His goons picked up Tim Drake. Not specifically because it was Tim Drake, he just so happened to be in the Joker’s neighborhood, and we'll, he can't pass up that opportunity now can he? 

Except Tim Drake is watching, along with the rest of Gotham, at the Batcomputer. He’s nursing a broken foot and has been put on monitor duty until he's cleared for field work again. 

The guy looks enough like him, though. Black hair, blue eyes, and bags under his eyes for days. He's also got the same lean sort of build like he does. 

It happens like this. 

The Joker is doing his monologue thing where he explains whatever twisted game he's come up with this time. He takes up the majority of the screen, so nobody can see Not-Tim behind him, not until the big reveal. Then he covers the screen again, getting up close and personal, before stepping back. In those quick few seconds, Not-Tim is no longer sitting there tied to the chair. 

Someone off camera lets the Joker know, and he whirls around, confused as the rest of Gotham. 

And then Not-Tim comes in with the steel chair. 

Or, well, a crowbar, but the reference holds up. 

He takes out one of Joker’s knees before punching him in the face. The Joker drops like a bag of stones, out cold. 

Then he looks towards the camera. 

“Hey there. I'm not really sure where I am, but also if he was after Tim Drake, he got the wrong guy. I'm not him, I'm just some dude. Anyway, I'll just-yep-” he carefully steps over the unconscious Joker, gives the camera a little wave, and then leaves. 

Batman and Nightwing enter shortly after, with the Joker and his goons out cold and tied up. The knots were complicated enough where, in the end, the police resorted to cutting the ties off of them so they could be properly cuffed and taken to Arkham. 

“A constrictor knot,” Batman tells Nightwing as they watch the villain be taken away. “Often used by sailors to temporarily tie things together to keep something in a bag, or to hold something to glue it back together.”

“Huh,” Nightwing says, scratching the back of his head. “Go figure.”

—

The next time it happens, it’s the Riddler. 

He’s laughing, giving his riddles to the Bats and recording himself to all of Gotham while his victim, one of the Wayne brats, hangs over a vat of something. From a distance, he looks like Tim Drake, or maybe a lankier Dick Grayson. And he’s not the only victim, they’re all scattered across the city, but he thought an important figure such as a Wayne should be under the Riddler’s direct supervision while he enacts his schemes. 

While the Riddler cackles and plots and waves his cane around, in the background all of Gotham can see the figure escape. Several Gothamites recognize him as the kid from before, who clocked the Joker. They all watch with bated breath as he sort of wiggles his way out of the ropes holding him up. Once he’s free, he climbs the rope and gets himself down safely. 

Gotham holds their breath as the kid casually walks up to the Riddler, who’s mid-rant. He politely taps him on the shoulder, and as the Riddler is turning around, the kid clocks him just as brutally as he had the Joker. He’s down with one punch. 

They think he’s going to say another sort of awkward goodbye, but instead he pats the Riddler down until he finds a piece of paper tucked into the inside pocket of his jacket. 

“Right,” the kid says, looking at the list. There’s a lot more static overlay now, and several wonder if it’s damage to the cameras. “Uh, the Clocktower, the Docks, and-” he squints at the page for a moment-”Mama Nacaroni’s? What the fuck is that? Anyway, uh. See you later, I guess. Oh! And we’re at the Gotham Arena. Have fun with him, I guess.”

The kid tosses the paper off to the side before the camera cuts to black. 

Just like last time, everyone is out cold and tied up. The Riddler himself is sporting a pretty bad shiner, but well deserved nonetheless. 

“Stop it,” Red Hood tells him. Batman just looks at him, and though Hood can’t see the top half of his face, he can tell that his eyebrow is raised. “You know exactly what I mean, B. Put the adoption papers away.”

“Hn.”

—

After that, it sorta becomes a game. The rogues of Gotham are no longer after a Wayne, or after anybody who holds any kind of social status like usual. They’re all going after this one kid, all determined to be the one to hold him. And each one is televised. 

Mr. Freeze freezes him in a block of ice, but due to the cameras glitching out, nobody can really see how he got free. They do, however, see the kid suplex Mr. Freeze. It should seem impossible, given his lanky figure, but he evidently has more muscle than he’s originally let on. 

Two-Face gets a hold of him, using chains and some power-dampening cuffs just on the off-chance that he’s a meta. They all watch as the kid leans down, pulls a bobby pin out of his hair, and picks the locks on his cuffs. One punch, and Two-Face is down. 

Gothamites are going wild for the kid. They’ve dubbed him Feral McGee™ (an online poll, of course), because every time he goes in for the punch he gets this feral look in his eyes. Also, just the fact that he casually goes up to these rogues and takes them out with all the casualness of doing something incredibly mundane? Incredible. The Gothamites are eating it up. However, despite the video evidence, nobody has been able to properly identify the kid. They know he has black hair and bright eyes, but any time he gets near a camera, it’s like there’s this weird, sort of warped quality the camera takes on. It doesn’t usually calm down until the fight is done-as one sided as they usually are-before he awkwardly skedaddles away.  

He gets kidnapped by the Penguin, Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy (though that was more just a friendly chat than anything), Mad Hatter, and the Riddler again. 

And then the Joker escapes. 

It’s no surprise as to who he’s going to go after. 

Due to one too many careless goons, they manage to find their way to the Joker’s hideout pretty quickly. This time, it’s all Bats on deck, and they all hide away in the rafters as Feral McGee™ is hung over a vat of acid. His whole body is tied up, hardly a single inch of exposed skin to be seen except for the neck up. 

They watch the goons, they watch the Joker, and they watch Feral McGee™. 

The Joker is monologuing, practically begging the bats to come find him before the timer runs out. When it does, the kid gets dumped into the vat of acid. 

Despite these stakes, the kid seems to be only mildly annoyed. 

“Fuck this, I have homework I still need to finish,” they hear him say. 

They all watch, amazed and confused, as the kid starts gnawing through the ropes. Human teeth shouldn’t be able to do that so easily, but one bit after the other, and soon enough the kid’s got himself freed enough to just climb up the rest of the rope. When he’s at the top of the crane holding him up, Batman lets down a rope and pulls the kid up and out of danger. 

“Oh, cool, you’re all here,” the kid says casually, as if meeting the entire Bat Clan is just a normal Tuesday. And then he pulls out a notepad and pen and hands it to Red Hood. 

“Can I get an autograph? You’re dope as fuck, dude.”

Red Hood has to look away and hide his face in his arms for a few moments to not give away their location with his laughter before signing. And then, one by one, the others do as well. They pass along the kid’s notebook with shit-eating grins and barely contained snickers despite the fact that the Joker is still right below them. Even Batman signs it, after his children don’t stop hounding him about it. 

In their distraction, they didn’t see the kid sneak away. He’s far away from them now, nearly right over the Joker. Danny waits, though, until the Joker has turned around as the timer almost runs out. They watch as he snickers at Joker’s flabbergasted look. The Joker comically looks back and forth and under objects the kid obviously isn’t under. However, before he can do or say anything else, the kid drops from the rafters and right on top of the Joker. He crumples to the ground, unconscious. The kid, however, just brushes the dust off of himself. Despite the fall he took, there isn’t a scratch on him. 

When the bats join him, they give his notepad back to him, barely able to contain their laughter at the absurdity of it all. The kid, too, joins in the camaraderie, laughing and joking along with them as Batman secures the Joker. 

“Okay, okay, but I gotta ask, dude,” Red Hood says at one point, looking at the kid. “How do you keep getting kidnapped?”

The kid just shrugs. “I get distracted easily. And I’m sleep deprived, so you know. Social awareness is kind of at an all time low right now.”

“Why are you sleep deprived?” Nightwing asks, barely hidden concern in his voice. 

 “Finals are kinda kicking my ass right now. Especially this dumb English homework I have. You guys wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

“Oh, lucky for you,” Red Hood says, wrapping an arm around the kid’s shoulders as he walks them out of the warehouse, “I happen to know a lot about English. So, it is Shakespeare?”

“Yeah, Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

As they walk off, Batman calmly watches, though the rest of the bats can see his jaw twitching. Nightwing comes up behind him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. 

“If you don’t adopt him, I will.”

“Hn.”

[dreammfyre]

the heir's favorite ⋆ jacaerys velaryon

SUMMARY. You are the first daughter of the marriage between your mother Rhaenyra Targaryen and your father Daemon Targaryen. Always the most rebellious and difficult of all, temperamental, impulsive. However, weak before the temptation to possess your older brother, the crown prince Jacaerys Velaryon, a knight par excellence, the opposite of you. But no one in Dragonstone imagined that you shared much more than dragon's blood.

WARNINGS. +18 Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!oc. Targaryen incest (brother and sister). Jacaerys aggressive and dominant. Smut. Based on the second season of House Of the Dragon.

AUTHOR'S NOTE. This was a suggestion left anonymously in the messages, so I invite you to leave yours. Thanks for reading.

The empty room was so quiet that you could feel your thoughts could be heard all over the place. The full moon illuminated the dark sky, standing out against the stars that night where everyone was resting in their chambers, but you were unable to lie in your bed, much less fall asleep without having nightmares. The Stone Table was where everyone met daily to discuss strategies for the war that was being unleashed in Westeros, but now that empty place was strange, so much silence and loneliness. The extinguished embers did not illuminate the tabletop, you touched the stone expecting to burn, however, it was totally cold.

"Who's there?" a familiar voice entered the place. You turned immediately finding Prince Jacaerys, your older brother and heir to your mother's throne. "Sister... it's very late."

"I know, you should be resting." You replied walking towards him.

"It's a bit complex lately." He took the luxury of joking, in response you smiled without much encouragement. "May I know what you're doing here?"

"Not much. Seems to me you're not the only one who doesn't get any rest." You lifted your shoulders casually. "Any news on your rounds?"

Jacaerys shook his head in disappointment, pacing around the table resting his hands on the handle of his sword without taking his eyes off you, analyzing your presence carefully, as if silently judging you. You rested your hands on the stone of the table relaxing your body on your arms, but your head couldn't stop scheming hundreds of thoughts and bloody imaginary scenarios regarding the war.

"Cole's army is getting bigger and bigger and we don't have a damn clue about anything." You said with a tense jaw. "And about my father..." you sighed deeply without looking your brother in the face "no word from him for days."

"That's not your fault." Jace tried to make you feel better with repeated kind words, but your guilt was growing and the anguish of the approaching war wouldn't leave you alone. "Daemon is not the priority."

"That idiot should be here, on the island, with his queen and his children." You whispered angrily. Then you looked up resolute in your decision. "I'll go see him tomorrow."

That didn't sit well with your brother.

"Don't talk nonsense, Visenya." The heir scoffed. "You can't go to Harrenhal alone, it's too dangerous and we don't know if the way is clear."

"You think I'll arrive by land alongside Daemon's imaginary army?" you sneered in the same condescending manner, a brazen gesture that made Jacaerys' blood boil. "I will ride Vermithor's back at dawn and arrive before the sun peaks. I will return the same day with news before the queen."

"That's a lousy idea!" Your brother exclaimed angrily. Grabbing your arm with brute force, forcing you to look him. "How can you even think of traveling alone to lands we don't know if they are enemies or allies?"

"We need to move fast before they come for us, Jacaerys." You squirmed under his grip feeling his fingers bury into your pale skin. "Do you intend to wait for my father to return?" you managed to break free from his grip with difficulty, Jacaerys ran a hand through his wavy hair desperate not to talk sense into you. "Because you may take a seat, I will not be accompanying you."

"Visenya, please understand the magnitude of your stupidity." He begged, chasing you from side to side. Your brother knew how impulsive you were, and how hard it was for you to get an idea out of your head, no matter if it was good or bad and in this case it was a rather dangerous one. "What happens if you cross paths with Vhagar in the skies?" The prince raised his voice to you demanding and imperative trying to intimidate you, anyone passing nearby could overhear your discussion. You turned your back to him, you didn't want to look him in the face out of embarrassment because deep down you knew his words were true. "You have no business there!"

"I have no business here either!" you exclaimed with the same intensity. You were temperamental by nature and now you were blowing off steam. "I'm tired of staying cooped up on the island, waiting for others to figure things out! I'm a dragon rider, and I'm constrained by these walls."

Your brother understood that feeling better than anyone, he grabbed you by both cheeks, covering your face with his firm hands.

"I know how you feel, Visenya. Believe me, but walking out at the first impulse is not the solution, don't you understand?" You put your hands over his, looking at him intently. You wanted to nod to answer him the question he asked you, but you were mesmerized in his nearness and his breath hitting your face. "Stay here, with us." He watched you carefully without letting go, losing himself in the sense of his pleas to look at you closely, you were so beautiful in any light no matter how dim, a Targaryen through and through with bright, intense violet eyes of long white hair like your parents. Jacaerys couldn't help but stare at you, the half-open lips tempting him to taste you, trying not to lose what little composure he had left. "With me."

You possessed the ethereal beauty of your mother and the complex character of your father, Daemon Targaryen. Under your little ethics and impulsiveness you did not think if it was a coherent idea and you threw yourself to kiss the thick lips of your brother who reciprocated instantly, none of them reasoned, they only moved to the rhythm of the kiss where their moist lips brushed anxiously. Your brother's hand on your waist took you by surprise, more so when he pressed you against his body bumping you against his chest and cornering you against the table.

"Go to sleep." Jace scolded you making an attempt to stop kissing you, but you kept reaching for him. "This isn't a good place."

With a smile you ignored knowing the only way to stop the situation was for you to go to your quarters and you didn't feel like leaving. You grabbed her hair tangling your fingers in her chestnut curls, Jacaerys strength intimidated you, but it wasn't enough to stop you.

"Don't go to Harrenhal." He pleaded leaving kisses on your neck, tracing a wet path over your skin taking advantage of inhaling your scent. "Do it and I promise I will warm your bed every night."

You felt a shiver run down your back at his offering, Jacaerys kept leaving kisses until he reached your collarbones uncovered by the neckline of your dress. His warm lips made your heart beat faster, you grabbed him by the face stopping him.

"Would you do that for me?" you asked with dangerous innocence, watching his glossy swollen lips.

"Do you really doubt it?" he answered against your ear, then brushed his nose against yours slowly, you left a short kiss on his lips almost by instinct, so tender and unexpected that you heard a laugh come out of the prince.

"I'll think about it." You whispered touching his chest, playing with the textures of the fabrics, his agitated breathing gave him away, having you close was a personal challenge for the prince. It was a lie, you weren't going to think about it, you just wanted to give him what he needed to hear to stay with you.

Jacaerys' big hands began to take hold of your body squeezing you tightly making you gasp, then you lifted your chin giving him access to your neck, the kisses there unsettled you in a special way and only your brother knew it, taking advantage of your weakness, listening closely to his breathing and feeling the warmth of his breath was much better. Everything about him you liked, and you were missing him lately. The pressure and uncertainty of the war had taken your head elsewhere, you had abandoned each other for valid reasons, but at that second you just wanted to give yourself to him one more time.

You stood on your tiptoes to gain a little more height reaching for his ear, your brother tensed at the delicate touch of your hot tongue against his lobe, you licked delicately knowing that it turned him on, he confessed it to you one night and you never forgot it. A deep moan of satisfaction came from his throat, then carefully, you lowered one of your hands straight down to his pants, positioning yourself over his hard member that was pressing against the fabric.

"This is not the best place." Begged the prince resting his forehead on your shoulder. "We are in a sacred place, you know?"

You cared little for his insistence or decency when you only wanted to shout his name, though you knew Jacaerys was asking you to stop for the sake of not failing in duty, not because the desire wasn't there. No one understood the reason why Rhaenyra did not cancel the stupid engagement between Lady Baela and the right Jacaerys, no one could deny that they could become blameless kings for the history of Westeros, but there would never be the tension and burning desire throbbing as when the fire was unleashed between you. That first time with a taste of sin, you begging him not to stop, that it was going to become a one-time secret that his parents would never find out, a secret they couldn't help but repeat between your sheets and his, in the hallways and in the library.

Desperate, your brother lifted the skirt of your dress with your help by grabbing your leg and pulling it up to his waist. The mere contact made you moan from the pleasure, you clamped your mouth shut to keep from making noise, you were too sensitive and needy and Jacaerys liked to have you under his control. You were always sarcastic, upset and nasty, just like your dragon, but Jacaerys Velaryon knew how to control you.

"What are you going to do if someone finds out about us?" You asked with bated breath. Deep down it was important to keep the secret guarded to keep it. Jacaerys' fingers stroking between your legs making you jump, clinging to the heir's neck and leaning against the table. "What are they going to say when they find out the crown prince fucking his sister."

His fingers slowly moved up and down, playing with your slimy wetness between his fingers. The mischievous grin on the chestnut's face only reflected the satisfaction of having managed to have you like this, so submissive to him.

"Does it scare you?" he whispered against your moaning lips. With his other hand he gripped the back of your neck tightly, so you wouldn't move. "They're going to find out you're my spoiled sister." Two of his long fingers began to search for the perfect place to insert themselves into you. You stirred under his grip settling in for him, your desperate breathing needing him to finish his work, but he seemed very calm provoking you with his words. "Do you know what they'll call you?" he bit your lip, pulling it towards him. "The heir's whore." His fingers slipped inside you so easily, sliding into your wet insides gushing moans from your chest as you felt him move in and out of you. Jacaerys took your leg his free hand clutching his fingers to your thigh preventing you from closing before him.

At the first loud moan you covered your mouth immediately knowing you were attracting attention, the sensation between your legs was stronger. You squeezed your brother's shoulder getting used to the movement of his fingers inside you.

"Don't yell." He ordered uncompromisingly. He had to kiss you to shut you up, which served you a few short minutes. You were losing your mind, your legs wanted to close but Jace put his foot down to stop that from happening.

"Jacaerys." His name on your lips excited him more than anything else, for it was the tone of desperation that mirrored your desire. To know that he controlled you and you were under his dominion with how arrogant you were, that no knight owned you, that everyone desired you for being Rhaenyra's spoiled daughter, but you were his, no matter an arranged marriage or duty was enough. "Mmh." You ran your hand over your face, desperate to keep silent fighting against your body that was beginning to tremble as his fingers went faster.

But for an ego like Prince Jacaerys Velaryon's it wasn't enough. Listening to you enjoy yourself on the Stone Table where every day they met to discuss war strategies was the most satisfying image to his eyes and he was not going to be able to forget it. The way you moved, dragon-like, the sweetest and most desperate noises came from you, none of the whores he had been with compared to the delicacy of a pureblood Targaryen. A unique and unrepeatable privilege.

When your breathing became erratic and the murmurs incomprehensible swearing you were going to reach that peak, Jacaerys came to a screeching halt chastising you. You opened your eyes in disappointment and fury, your heart leaping out of your chest and your legs damp and trembling.

"Be a good sister," he stroked your cheek with the gentleness you deserve to be treated with. You were trying to listen to him but you were so upset you just wanted to insult him for doing that to you. "Turn around."

Your hair stood up at his tone of voice demanding and conciliatory at the same time. As obedient as ever, just for him, you turned your back to him as the prince busied himself with pulling down his pants that were pressing against the erection he was trying to contain. Your heart wouldn't stop pounding, you could still feel his long fingers inside you and the wait, however minimal, was becoming eternal and torturous. You looked sideways at the entrances of the place without finding anyone, but the truth is that you didn't care if at that moment the queen arrived and found them like that, the euphoria and adrenaline was taking over your body and your reason, the overflowing desire had taken your actions. You felt Jace's hands sneaking up your skirt, careful where to touch, looking for just the right position to enter. He stood behind you, your dress pulled up over your back, the mere touch made you moan. You were so wet it was slipping from your entrance.

"Don't say anything." He told you and you nodded, you were capable of begging if necessary, though deep down you knew he enjoyed it making you obey. "Tell me if you want me to stop."

You closed your eyes as you felt Jacaerys slowly push behind you. You took a breath and tried to relax, you both moaned slowly, the prince tensed his jaw and clenched his teeth to keep from making noise, he stayed still for a few seconds searching for your hips digging his fingers into your skin trapping you in that position, moving you back and forth to better thrust. The rubbing of his member on your walls felt warm and wet, an invasion of your body, you were so used to his size that the sensation became familiar, literally. Some of the pieces of stone you unintentionally threw away, that was going to be a problem for later, because now the noise of their bodies colliding was beginning to consume you. The control he had over you didn't bother you, he gripped you tightly taking over everything. Her hips moved with yours instinctively in a delicious back and forth.

"Like this." You gasped with closed eyes and a satisfied expression. You reached for his hand under your dress and clung to him as tightly as Jace clung to you.

His length pumped in and out of you at a rapid pace, but this time, Jacaerys made sure each thrust was deep by ramming his pelvis into your buttocks.

"What a pleasure to meet again, don't you think?" his question was punctuated by your same panting without stopping moving. You weren't able to answer, your high-pitched moans were getting louder and louder, putting both of you at risk. On the other hand, he was breathing heavily. You had to cover your mouth with your hand, biting your palm to stifle your own moans of pleasure at having him inside you.

You started to stir but you were trapped in his hands, he knew you well enough to know what to do, you turned to look at him finding the heir ramming you with force and speed, his hair fell in curls that moved to the rhythm of his rhythm, when their gazes met for a second he stared at you, your face sweating, your eyes bright with a frown of supplication and red cheeks were enough to have no mercy. Your entrance was tightening at the same time you couldn't breathe, that feeling of a wave invading your insides begging for more desperate to reach orgasm. Jacaerys took your with one hand your waist and with the other your hip, encasing his fingers preventing you from escaping, you were in this together and you had to finish it.

You moved your arm and disarranged the pieces on the board. Now you could hear your brother moaning, cursing you for being his undoing and the greatest of his sins, making you his own feeling the power to mark you and deflower you breaking any tradition that governs the Targaryen nobility. It felt so good that you could confess your love to him just so he wouldn't stop. Luckily for both of you, he didn't stop, the rapid movements and the pressure forming in your lower stomach was getting out of control, the noise intensifying from the collision of your bodies and your knees seemed to lose any kind of strength to hold you up, luckily the table was there to support your body, plus your brother who wasn't going to let you fall. Until you couldn't manage to resist anymore, your orgasm came first like a shiver throughout your body, you closed your eyes tightly and watching you exclaim his name in screams of pleasure ended the infinite torture of the heir that took a few seconds to wait.

"Shit." Your voice hopefully came out of your dry mouth. You had your chest against the weight crushing your breasts, one of your hands intertwined with your brother's who was rebounding behind you.

You both took a second to take a breath and assimilate what you had just done, you had promised not to fall into carnal sin again and that's why the last time was several months ago. You leaned on the table with both hands coming back into yourself with your chest heaving, your brother's hands were still in the same place but he was no longer squeezing you with the same possessive intensity. Your hair was falling on both sides, tousled from the movement and your legs were begging you for a rest.

Jacaerys caught his breath, but his heart had not calmed down at all. His body was still experiencing those chills and that unique tension, he took a step backwards out of your body to get dressed. You immediately felt the fluid trickle down the inside of your thighs, dripping slowly down your hot skin.

"Are you okay?" Jace asked pulling up his pants, his movements a little uncontrolled as the adrenaline was still pumping. You nodded fixing your wrinkled dress. It wasn't the first time it had happened, you both knew what it was, that meant you would have to have tea the next morning.

"Looks like I'll be staying."

Your older brother smiled, fixed his hair pulling it back and moving closer to kiss you again, this time slower and softer, trapping your lips with his so slowly that you relaxed. You took his face kissing him again, his scent, his warmth, his bearing that forced you to lift your chin to reach your mouth, the softness of his lips, it was the most comforting sensation you knew.

"Go rest." He whispered without opening his eyes. Tidying your hair behind your ear.

"Okay." You replied in the same tone, so obedient and submissive before him, kissing for the last time his mouth following your movement. "Good night"

Leaving him was complicated, but you were satisfied with the encounter. As you walked you felt the burning between your legs, a reminder that was to last a couple of days that he had made you his once more, that was the greatest secret they kept hidden, they had forgotten for a moment the war between families, the political problems, duty and order.

Jacaerys Velaryon watched you go, silently picking up the sword he had dropped to the ground. That simple symbol that he was capable of abandoning his duty as prince for you, he staked his honor and his word for taking you. He stayed a while longer tidying up the mess they had created, arranging the pieces of stone in the place that corresponded according to the figure, picking up from the floor some that fell without realizing it. It was he who always assumed the role of responsibility for cleaning up the mess and pretending nothing had happened. How was he going to show up tomorrow at this very spot knowing he had relations with Visenya, the spoiled and arrogant princess, right there?

He only hoped Daemon Targaryen would never discover that his daughter was the heir's favorite if he wished to one day ascend the throne.

[disgustingtwitches]

MDNI

Working at a restaurant with 141! (Part 1)

Let's get this out of the way, the restaurant fucking sucks. Don't even know how it's still open. The food is terrible. The owner is an incompetent drunk who's never there. You got referred to the job from a friend of a friend. You did an interview with the head chef/manager, John. He hired you because you were hot.

"The fuckin ass on that one, huh?"

Just like any man that works in a restaurant, they're all horny fucks who love to tease you. You'd run back to the kitchen and ask to tweak an order. Price would wink and say:

"Next time it's gonna cost ya."

When it gets slow (which was all the time), you'd sit in the back and chat about how they met and what they did with their lives. They all get paid under the table for various reasons. Johnny takes smoke breaks with you, sometimes Price joins. Gaz pours shots for everyone after "busy" nights (busy meaning there was an hour where there were two tables to serve instead of one). Ghost... well he's strictly work. Sometimes he engages in banter with the guys, but he only acknowledges you when needed.

Your first month flies by, you basically get paid to sit around and talk with the most charming men on the planet, and Simon.

"He'll warm up eventually. Just gotta loosen 'em up, just like any tight ass."

Soap smirked as he leaned against a counter while everyone was wrapping up for the night.

"Don't you have dishes to put away?"

Ghost snapped while wiping down his station. At least he was nice to look at.

You and Gaz would roll up the forks and knives talking about bullshit, knees touching. Soap and you would light each others smokes by touching one lit end to the unlit one, all while still holding the cigarettes in your mouths (he called it a cigarette kiss). Price would constantly make food for you:

"Gotta plump you up 'fore it starts getting cold, yeah?"

He'd look you up and down while sliding you a basket of fries. And Simon? Cold as ever. Even when he started driving you to and from work because your car broke down. He drove like a madman, but it was totally silent. You made the mistake of reaching for the radio once, he gave a admonitory grunt and you snatched your hand away.

As time went on, you got comfortable with everyone and they got comfortable with you. It started with suggestive jokes.

"Simon's just straightforward, doesn't beat around the bush."

Price said one day while prepping vegetables with Ghost.

"What are you talking about? He beats around the bush all the time Price, you know that."

Soap walked by with a shit eating grin while he was carrying a bucket of dishes to the back. Uproar from the guys. Ghost storms off following Johnny, knife in hand. You want to stop him, but Gaz places a hand on your shoulder.

"Best not to do that, just let 'em settle that amongst themselves."

Johnny comes back disheveled, wearing a different shirt. Simon is stone faced as usual as he goes back to prep. It only got worse after that.

You'd watch as the boys messed with each other more; pats on the back, that turns to squeezes on the shoulders, that turned to slaps on the ass.

"They're just handsy," you think to yourself.

Eye contact that lingers for a second too long.

"They're just close friends," you think to yourself.

Compliments that boarder on harassment.

"They're just joking around," you think to yourself.

Then you entered the walk-in freezer, only to make direct eye contact with Johnny as he has Kyle's dick down his throat.

"Oh, uh-huh..." you think to yourself.

You didn't look at their faces for a week, they acted as if nothing happened. Then, the flirting only got worse.

"Behind!"

Price would yell while grinding up against Simon's ass when passing behind him.

"Yes, Chef."

He'd respond while he continued cooking, unfazed. They seemingly shared clothes: the younger guys preferred to don John and Simon's apparel all the time. You stopped going into the walk-in for a while, you figured you'd give Gaz and Soap some privacy (although they didn't seem to mind an audience). Christ, was everyone fucking everyone here?

You were taking a smoke break with Price when he leaned back on the railing and adjusted himself, it wasn't really adjusting himself as it was more him gripping his thick dick and looking directly into your eyes. You nearly choked as he smiled.

Ghost threw you a hoodie when he dropped you off one night. It started raining before you got home and you were complaining about just getting your hair done. You tried to give it back but he refused to take it.

"Keep it. I don't care about that one anyways."

He shrugged. You'd wear the oversized hoodie to bed, the smell was comforting. Smoky, dusty, boozy, like Javanese vetiver. It smelled like a grown man. Delicious. Accidentally wore it to work one day when you were in a rush getting ready. That started a trend for the rest of them to get you to wear their clothes. It less of a trend and more of a competition honestly. They'd "accidentally" spill drinks or food on you.

"No worries, I've got an extra shirt in my car!"

They'd have a wide, cheeky smile plastered on their faces while giving you their shirt. Of course, they wouldn't take them back either; so you had a growing collection of huge shirts that you'd wear around your apartment. Eventually, you had to go back to the walk-in. Thankfully, there were no exhibitionists present. You were reaching to grab some ketchup when the door opened. You and Johnny stared at each other for a long moment.

"Need help getting that, bonnie?"

Before you could respond he was reaching over you, pressing his chest on your back. He handed you the bottle while his dick grew hard on your ass. He was breathing hard in your ear, waiting for your reaction. You pushed back on him and that's all he needed, he gripped your hips and grinded into you. Even through your jeans you could feel his dick twitch when you moaned. It was a hot minute of panting while he pulled you back onto him desperately, like he was trying to fuck you right through the denim. The door handle clicked. You both froze, staring at the entryway.

"Johnny?"

Gaz's head popped in. Your face got hot while he stared back and forth at the two of you. One thing led to another, and your pants are around your ankles while Johnny is face first in your wet folds. Kyle is standing behind you, fucking your thighs and leaving sloppy kisses on your neck.

"Pretty doll, how long have ye bin waiting fur this, huh?"

Soap looked up at you with so much adoration, like he was servicing a goddess.

"Gonna cum Johnn-"

Gaz whimpered and bit your shoulder to muffle his groans as he came right between your thighs and cunt. Soap cleaned up the mess greedily, savouring the taste of both your juices. He didn't stop eating you out until you finished. Gaz held you up while your knees buckled when you came undone. Gentlemen they are, pulled up your pants for you and wiped the smeared lipgloss from your face. You stumbled out of the freezer, walking past the kitchen. Price's eyes crinkled as he saw you head out onto the floor.

~

"You shouldn't do that in there. It's unsanitary. And a health code violation."

Simon looked straight ahead as he weaved between cars. You opened your mouth, but no words came to mind, so you just nodded. Your leg bounced nervously. He grabbed your thigh, stopping the movement. His hand stayed there until you were in front of your place. You stared at him, his brown eyes boring into you.

"G'night."

He pulled his hand away, placing both of them on the steering wheel. You walked into your apartment, dizzy with confusion. "What the fuck is going on?"