#and this isn't really even all of them it's just ones that are past the outline stage

[sceletaflores]

come on into my bed with me (i know you want to)

pair: old man!logan howlett x fem!reader

wc: 4.1k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, some sad vibes because i can't function without them, large age gap (but isn't that obvious by now? mid 20s/old as fuck), established relationship but only kind of, falls in the logan 2017 timeline but very loosely, LONGINGGGG, gratuitous nickname use (kid, baby, honey, ect), nasty dirty talk cause he's old and gross, not so dry humping, JUST THE TIP RAHHHH, porn w/o plot, no use of y/n.

nat’s note: this was heavily inspired by imogen heap's 'i am in love with you' because that song fucks so hard and it really gave me lots of old man logan vibes. i was just so overcome with nasty thoughts that the beat possessed me and i blacked out and listened to it on a constant repeat while i wrote this instead of doing my a&p work. kisses!

dividers by angel @saradika-graphics!

you can't sleep, logan left his door open...

Rain pelts at the smudged glass of your window, drops trailing down the span of the panes that you follow with your eyes.

It's been raining nearly all week, a rare thing in Mexico, especially somewhere as dry as Sonora.

You used to love the rain. You felt a special kind of comfort anytime night would come and there'd be a certain chill swirling through the air, that familiar scent of damp soil and wet stone rising as the first drops hit the ground.

In Sonora, rain is supposed to be a gift—a reprieve from the unrelenting heat, a chance for the dry earth to drink.

It should feel cleansing, like a reset of sorts, and maybe it would have a few months ago.

Now it just feels heavy, oppressive. Each raindrop splattering against the glass feels like a reminder of everything that's stuck, unmoving.

The soft noise of it was almost enough to lull you to sleep, but it was still no match for your wandering mind.

You’ve been finding yourself here a lot recently, shrouded in the scratchy sheets of your bed in the quiet dark encompassing your room, mind racing.

It was raining the first night he touched you.

You've been with Logan and Charles for nine months.

A runaway hitchhiker turned caretaker after you fled from the meaningless scraps of your life back in Texas.

Logan found you on the side of the highway coming back from a shift in El Paso. One stop with the hazards on and a hasty conversation through a rolled down window later, you were throwing your bags in the back of his limo and climbing into the front seat.

You didn't realize until much later that he never truly asked you to stay, or to care for Charles alongside him.

It was only supposed to be a temporary arrangement, a roof over your head in exchange for your help. Watch over his ailing father for a few days while he went out to get him more medicine, that's what you settled on.

Yet somehow, here you are, nine months later.

You cook meals in a dusty kitchen that always smells faintly of motor oil, listen to Charles’ stories about a world you’ll never fully grasp, and watch Logan patch himself up in grim silence after he’s returned from whatever trouble found him this time. 

It's strange how the days seemed to stretch endlessly, but the weeks have slipped past like a blink. You carved out a routine in this crumbling house in Sonora, built something that resembles a life even if it feels borrowed, like a second-hand coat that never quite fits right.

At first, you weren’t sure what kept you here. Maybe Charles. 

You warmed to him almost immediately, drawn in by his gentle demeanor and the way he seemed to see right through you without a hint of judgment. 

Even when his mind faltered, slipping into tangled memories or distant fragments of a life long past, he treated you with a kindness you hadn’t felt in years.

You’d come to think of him as a king, regal and noble. A king stripped of his castle, yet still wearing a crown, if ever so skewed—a king nonetheless.

You still aren’t sure, but you can’t shake the sense that leaving now would be like tearing off a scab—painful and unnecessary.

And then, one night, the rain came.

You remember it vividly, a torrent so sudden and unrelenting. The downpour soaking the dry dirt surrounding the plant. 

You couldn’t help yourself from wandering out, stood barefoot on the porch as the cool air nipped at the skin of your arms and legs.

“You’re gonna catch a cold standin’ out here.” Logan said from somewhere behind you, his voice rough and low after the silence of a long shift.

You hadn’t moved, hadn’t even glanced his way. “I like the rain.”

There was a beat of silence before he stepped closer, the warmth of his body radiating against your back. His hand had been hesitant at first, a brush of calloused fingers against your arm. 

You didn’t pull away.

The heat of his palm felt scalding, causing goosebumps to pebble along your damp skin. His thumb swiped across the circular scar just above your elbow, a cigarette burn, one of many.

He didn’t say anything as he turned and walked back into the house. You learned quickly that Logan’s not the type to fill silences with empty words, but you both knew something shifted.

He came into your room later that night. The squeaky mattress of your bed dipping under his weight as he slid his hand down your stomach, pausing just above the waistband of your shorts, a silent question.

He didn’t kiss you, but the rain pattering against the tin roof was enough to swallow your soft moans and gasps.

You settled into something undefined—a constant push and pull of need and silence. Logan touched you when he needed to, and you let him because you wanted to.

It wasn’t love, not then. It wasn’t even comfort. But it was connection. A tenuous thread in the quiet storm of your lives.

You figured that was enough.

The rain hasn't slowed. If anything, the howl of the wind is stronger than before.

The soothing rhythm of droplets hitting your window turned aggressively sharp, like darts thrown against a worn cork board.

The boom of thunder is nearly in sync with the pulse of your core, aching and insistent in its need.

It’s been weeks since Logan touched you last, his endless cycle of guilt stronger than it's been before. He’s never outright said it, but you know it’s there.

The silence between you both has stretched longer than you'd like to admit, a quiet that isn't comfortable anymore.

You know he’s got it in his head that he’s somehow taken advantage of you. A perverted old man falling weak to the pretty, young thing taking up space in the bed two doors over from him.

The thought stirs something deep within you, a mix of frustration and confusion. He’s not wrong, not exactly—but he’s not right either. You aren’t a child, and you aren’t helpless. You knew what you wanted, what you needed.

And that hasn’t dared to change.

You shift in bed, the sheets tangling around your legs as your body hums with a restlessness you can’t shake. The air in your room feels thick, charged, and suffocating, a mirror of the space between you and Logan.

He doesn’t understand that you want him too, that you weren’t some helpless thing to be protected or shielded from his darkness. It eats at you until your skin is practically buzzing with it, buzzing with the need to show him.

There’s only so much silence you can take before it becomes too loud to ignore. 

You swing your legs over the edge of the bed, the hardwood cool against your bare feet. You know it’s late, but you don’t care.

You walk through the dimly lit hallway, the creak of the floorboards quiet under you as you make your way to Logan’s door. It’s cracked open, a yellow glow spilling through to guide you like a lighthouse guides its ships to shore.

When you reach the beat up wood you don’t hesitate, you push it open the slightest bit, peering through the widened gap. 

He’s there, sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to you. He doesn’t turn, doesn’t acknowledge you, but you know he knows you’re there.

You cross the threshold, your heartbeat loud in your ears as you pull the door shut behind you, leaning your back against it.

“Logan,” you say softly, your voice rougher than you intended.

He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he runs his hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face. The lamplight catches the sharp planes of his face, a familiar weariness etched into his features.

His fingers flex at his sides, and for a moment, you think he’s going to tell you to leave—to go back to your room where it’s safe, where you won’t make things more complicated than they already are. You almost brace for it.

But then he speaks.

“What’s wrong, kid.” His voice is nothing but a deep rumble, like gravel crunching underfoot.

You shrug noncommittally, hands messing with a stray thread hanging from the edge of your shorts. “Can’t sleep.”

Logan sighs long and slow through his nose, hands pressing into his thighs. “Thought you liked the rain.”

You smile faintly at the irony, chest swelling with something dangerous. 

You take a step further into the room, pushing yourself off the closed door. The familiar scent of him invades your senses. It’s a mixture of leather, earth, and something raw—something undeniably him. 

You stand there for a moment, letting the silence stretch thin and taut before you finally speak.

“Can I stay?” The words come out barely above a whisper, but they land like a crack of lightning.

You feel your heart thud painfully in your chest, not from fear, but from the sudden vulnerability that makes your skin burn.

The room feels smaller now, the walls pressing in as you step forward, each movement slow and deliberate. You stop at the edge of his bed, the sheets pressing against the bare skin of your thighs.

Logan’s gaze flickers over his shoulder, meeting yours briefly before he looks away again, like he’s trying to convince himself that the ache in his chest isn’t real.

“You should go back to bed,” he says, voice gruff. “It’s late.”

“I don’t want to go back.” You shake your head even though he isn’t turned around to see it.

Without thinking, you crawl onto the bed, the comforter making soft shushing sounds under your hands and knees. You reach out, fingers brushing the back of his neck, the muscles there tight with strain.

Logan flinches slightly, but he doesn’t pull away, and that’s all the permission you need.

You shift closer, pressing your chest against his back, and letting your hands settle on his shoulders. The heat between you is electric, charged with something unsaid, something raw and undeniable.

“Please,” you whisper, your lips brushing against the back of his ear, your voice a mixture of defiance and desire.

Logan stiffens, but this time, you feel the shudder that runs through him, the way his body responds despite the walls he’s built around himself.

You know he’s torn, that he wants to fight this. You feel it in the tension that radiates from him, in the way his body seems to be fighting against the instinct to turn toward you.

But you don’t care anymore. You’re done with silence.

Your fingers slide down his back, feeling the rough fabric of his shirt against your skin as you press yourself closer. Your breath is hot against his neck now, and you can feel the rapid pulse in his veins beneath your lips as you hover just above his skin, waiting.

“Logan…” Your voice is softer now, almost pleading. You don’t know what you’re asking for, but you don’t have to.

His hand comes up, brushing against your wrist as if testing, as if he’s afraid you’ll pull away. But you don’t.

Instead, you lean into him further, your lips brushing the curve of his neck, whispering into the tension that still hangs heavy between you. “Please.”

The last shreds of Logan’s resistance snap under the cloying weight of your touch.

He’s moving before you can even register what’s happening, rearing up with heavy hands that land on your shoulders to push you backwards.

You fall back onto the bed with a soft gasp, bouncing on the mattress once, twice, before Logan follows. His body settles over yours like a warm blanket, thick forearms braced on either side of your head to support his weight.

"Why couldn't you sleep, honey?" he asks, dark eyes boring into yours intense enough to get your stomach churning. The green of them is deeper than normal, like fresh moss growing over stone.

“I was thinking,” you whisper, breathless. Your pulse races beneath your skin, you wonder distantly if he can hear it too.

“Thinkin’ about what?” he presses, breath fanning over your lips temptingly. 

Your brows furrow, a soft noise escaping you. You can't help but tell the truth. “About you.”

Logan hums, eyes trailing along your face slowly. He slots a knee between your thighs, groaning softly at the wet heat that seeps through to his jeans.

You gasp, hips bucking down instinctively. Your pussy aches desperately, leaking arousal into the cotton gusset of your panties.

His jaw clenches at the sound, muscle ticking just beneath the grey of his beard. “Is that right? You been layin' in that bed, thinkin' about me, gettin’ all worked up?"

Your face burns under his scrutiny, but you don’t shy away. You arch your back, pressing yourself as close to him as possible, letting the heat of your body speak for you.

“Yeah,” you breathe, the confession trembling on your lips. “I need you, it hurts.”

Logan exhales sharply, like the words knocked the air out of him. His hands slide from your shoulders, rough palms gliding down the skin of your arms before settling right under the swell of your breasts.

“Where’s it achin’, baby?” he asks softly, words almost getting lost in the dark of the room. “Show me.”

You let out a soft breath, reaching down to take his hand in yours.

Without breaking eye contact, you guide his hand down your trembling body until his palm rests over the apex of your thighs, where the damp fabric of your shorts clings to your swollen folds.

“Here,” you whisper, voice barely audible above the rain pounding against his window.

A low growl rumbles from deep in his chest, and his fingers press more firmly against you, feeling the slick heat that’s soaked through the thin cotton. His eyes darken further, the green almost swallowed by the black of his pupils.

Logan’s thumb drags over your clit, slow and deliberate, coaxing a needy whimper from your lips.

“Jesus,” he mutters, his voice thick. “You’re drippin’ for me, aren’t you? Didn’t even need to touch you, and you’re already so fuckin’ wet.” 

You whimper softly, bucking your hips against his hand, desperate for more.

"I've been like this all night," you admit, your voice going high and needy. "Thinking about how good you make me feel. How much I want you."

Logan’s eyes lock onto yours, and there’s something new swirling through them, something you’ve never seen before.

A beat passes—too long—almost agonizing. His free hand lifts from your hip, gently cupping your cheek, fingers brushing against your skin, like he isn’t sure if he has the right to touch you like this. 

His thumb brushes your lip, his gaze flicking to your mouth before returning to your eyes, asking for permission, even though neither of you had ever really needed it before.

"Logan," you say, the sound a little breathless, unsure of how to navigate this sudden shift, but he doesn’t keep you waiting.

He closes the distance in a heartbeat, lips crashing into yours with a ferocity you didn’t expect.

It’s like the world around you falls away, leaving only the warmth of his lips, the taste of him, and the pressure of his body against yours. The raging storm outside dulling until it’s nothing but fuzzy background noise.

His kiss is rough, deep, urgent, but there’s something more in it, a slow unraveling. Like he’s trying to carve himself into you, a permanent mark, a reminder that he was here, even if he never says it out loud.

Logan tastes like rich smoke and whiskey, the sharp edge of him mixing with the sweet burn of need. It sends your head reeling, arms coming up to circle around his neck.

You can’t find the words to describe it, not with the way his fingers slide through the wetness gathering at your entrance, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

Your hips thrust upward, begging for more, your body hungry for the release he’s just out of reach of giving.

“Want you inside me, Logan,” you moan desperately, slick lips brushing his with every word. “Please.”

Logan's body stiffens against yours at the sound of your pleading, his grip tightening on your cheek like he's trying to anchor himself in the reality of what you're asking.

“Shit,” he growls under his breath, his forehead pressing to yours as he closes his eyes. His chest heaves, the tension in his body palpable. "I—" he pauses, struggling to form the words, but you can see it in his eyes. He's conflicted, desperate, yet still hesitant.

You move against him, your body restless, your need undeniable, feeling the rigid outline of his hard cock pressed firmly against your thigh. A thick plane of heat that has your pussy clenching around the tips of his fingers.

You don’t want to push him, not anymore. But you’re past the point of waiting for permission.

Your lips meet his again, softer this time, coaxing, until he finally gives in, groaning against your mouth as he kisses you back with an intensity that steals your breath.

“I want to feel you,” you whisper, your hands trailing down to the hem of his shirt, pushing it over the swell of his pecs. 

His skin is hot under your fingertips, rough and familiar. Your fingers trail lightly across his chest, nails scratching through the salt and pepper hair dusted across his skin as you urge him closer.

“Just the tip,” Logan mutters under his breath, barely above a whisper. His voice hoarse, like he’s bargaining with himself. “Just to make you feel good, but that’s it, understand?”

You bite your lip, the edge of frustration gnawing at you. It’s not everything you need, not everything you want, but it's something. And right now, it’s enough.

You nod your head, hands already moving to the front of his jeans. You undo the button with shaking fingers, tugging the zipper down and pushing the worn denim away. 

His cock springs free, already hard, leaking with the same desperation you feel. You run your fingers along his length, feeling the heat of him, the steady throb of his pulse.

Logan peels down the thin layer of your shorts, cursing under his breath when he finds you completely bare underneath, your slick pussy shining under the dim light.

You watch him, chest heaving, as he stares down at you—his eyes dark and full of something primal, something raw.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his fingers tracing the outline of your wetness. He groans low in his throat, his thumb circling your clit once before moving down, dipping inside you just barely. “You’re perfect, baby.”

“Logan,” you whine, thighs spreading in a clear invitation. You patience is running exceedingly thin, your whole body alight with the feeling of a raging forest fire

“I know,” he mutters, placating. He takes the throbbing length of his cock in his hand, swiftly settling between your legs. “I know.”

The thick head drags through your folds, smearing pre-come along your skin and adding even more to the mess between your legs.

A quiet moan passes through your swollen lips, your muscles tightening as he slides himself along your clit. A slow back and forth movement that sends sparks shooting up your spine.

Logan grits his teeth, his breath shallow, as he finally aligns himself with your clenching hole. 

The air around you feels charged, a taut thread stretched between anticipation and restraint. You shift your hips slightly, just enough to encourage him, your eyes locked on his as you beg him silently with your gaze.

Then, with a low growl that vibrates through you, he pushes forward, just enough to make you gasp in relief, the head of his cock sliding home in your entrance.

And though it’s only the tip, the sensation of him inside you is enough to set your world alight. 

You can feel it, deep in your bones—the simmering, searing heat that makes everything else fade into the background.

Logan presses his lips to your forehead, his breath hot against your skin as he keeps his movements slow, deliberate, his hands holding your hips steady. "This is what you wanted, huh? Got you begging for it, honey," he growls softly. "Even if I’m only givin’ you a taste."

His hips roll languidly, staying true to his word and never sinking deeper than the thick head of his cock. His hand grips the base tightly, his fist fucking slow strokes over the length of himself to where he’s spreading your pussy open.

His scarred knuckles bump against your clit with every stroke, fanning the fire building in your lower stomach.

“Feel so fuckin’ good, honey,” he groans into the skin of your neck, the pace of his hips speeding up ever so slightly. “Feels like heaven.”

You claw at the skin of his back, touch wild and desperate. It takes everything in you not to shift your hips down, to sheath the rest of his cock deep inside your and lock your ankles around his back so he can never leave again.

Logan’s lips find your neck, teeth grazing your skin as he shifts against you. “Tell me you want this,” he says, his voice low, almost a command, yet laced with something tender. “Tell me you want me.”

You meet his gaze without hesitation, your voice steady despite the tremble in your chest. “I want you. I’ve always wanted you.” 

The words come out without thought, raw and honest, and you see something in his eyes shift—a flicker of relief, of something deeper than lust.

Logan groans like he got shot, his body shuddering above you as a low growl tears its way from his chest. He fucks into you faster, short, quick thrusts that steal all the breath from your lungs.

Sparks go off behind your closed eyes, bright white and glittering. You can feel yourself getting closer, your body trembling as you grind up against him, meeting him halfway, needing more, needing release.

“Logan,” you gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders harder, nails digging in. “I’m so close. Please—”

“Let go,” he growls, his pace increasing, his body pressing harder against yours. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

With his command, you unravel, the world spinning around you as the pleasure crashes over you, leaving you breathless, gasping for air, your body quivering beneath him as he holds you through it.

Logan follows, tearing himself from the tight grip of your pussy with a sharp jerk of his hips, your name falling from his lips like a prayer as he shoots thick ropes of come over your slick folds.

Your body shakes at the feeling, a breathless whimper pulled from your slack lips at the sticky warmth of his release.

He collapses onto the mattress next to you, his body shuddering enough to match your own. The room falls into a deep silence, the only sounds your mingling breaths and the distant sound of thunder.

A sick sort of dread bursts through the sweet afterglow of your hazy mind, settling in your stomach like a lead weight. You think that this is the moment where Logan will realize what you’ve done, that he’ll retreat back into himself and send you away.

Send you back to your own room and leave you to lay in the cold aftermath of your own recklessness.

You brace for it, the instinct to pull away, to protect yourself from his withdrawal, but it never comes. 

Instead, you feel his strong arm slide over your waist, pulling you closer, his body heat a stark contrast to the chill creeping in from the window.

His breath is warm against your neck as he shifts, his fingers tracing absent circles on your skin in a move that’s so endearingly human it has your chest aching.

"Stay here tonight?" he asks, his voice rough, almost a whisper.

Your heart clenches, tears burning at your waterline at the vulnerability of his tone. It breaks the dam inside you, relief and something dangerously close to love flooding your body in a bursting rush of water.

“Of course,” you murmur, your voice shaky.

Logan’s hand tightens around you, his thumb brushing over your ribs. He presses a soft kiss to the bare skin of your shoulder, settling onto the mattress with a slow breath.

You drift to sleep more relaxed than you’ve felt in years, even with the knowledge of the slow journey that lies ahead of you. It won’t be easy, it never is with Logan. You can’t find it in yourself to care.

Because even though the rain falls, the desert doesn’t bloom overnight. 

And neither do you.

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

[she-ra-ra-skirt]

Chocolate Cake

I love chocolate cake. And when I was a boy I loved it even more.

Sometimes we used to have it for tea and Mum used to say, 'If there's any left over you can have it to take to school tomorrow to have at playtime.' And the next day I would take it to school wrapped up in tin foil open it up at playtime and sit in the corner of the playground eating it, you know how the icing on top is all shiny and it cracks as you bite into it, and there's that other kind of icing in the middle and it sticks to your hands and you can lick your fingers and lick your lips oh it's lovely. yeah.

Anyway, once we had this chocolate cake for tea and later I went to bed but while I was in bed I found myself waking up licking my lips and smiling. I woke up proper. 'The chocolate cake.' It was the first thing 1 thought of.

I could almost see it so I thought, what if I go downstairs and have a little nibble, yeah?

It was all dark everyone was in bed so it must have been really late but I got out of bed, crept out of the door

there's always a creaky floorboard, isn't there?

Past Mum and Dad's room, careful not to tread on bits of broken toys or bits of Lego you know what it's like treading on Lego with your bare feet,

yowwww shhhhhhh

downstairs  into the kitchen open the cupboard and there it is all shining.

So I take it out of the cupboard put it on the table and I see that there's a few crumbs lying about on the plate, so I lick my finger and run my finger all over the crumbs scooping them up and put them into my mouth.

oooooooommmmmmmmm

nice. < br>Then I look again and on one side where it's been cut, it's all crumbly.

So I take a knife I think I'll just tidy that up a bit, cut off the crumbly bits scoop them all up and into the mouth

oooooommm mmmm nice.

Look at the cake again.

That looks a bit funny now, one side doesn't match the other I'll just even it up a bit, eh?

Take the knife and slice. This time the knife makes a little cracky noise as it goes through that hard icing on top.

A whole slice this time,

into the mouth.

Oh the icing on top and the icing in the middle ohhhhhh oooo mmmmmm.

But now I can't stop myself Knife - 1 just take any old slice at it and I've got this great big chunk and I'm cramming it in what a greedy pig but it's so nice,

and there's another and another and I'm squealing and I'm smacking my lips and I'm stuffing myself with it and before I know I've eaten the lot. The whole lot.

I look at the plate. It's all gone.

Oh no they're bound to notice, aren't they, a whole chocolate cake doesn't just disappear does it?

What shall I do?

I know. I'll wash the plate up, and the knife

and put them away and maybe no one will notice, eh?

So I do that and creep creep creep back to bed into bed doze off licking my lips with a lovely feeling in my belly. Mmmmrnmmmmm.

In the morning I get up, downstairs, have breakfast, Mum's saying, 'Have you got your dinner money?' and I say, 'Yes.' 'And don't forget to take some chocolate cake with you.' I stopped breathing.

'What's the matter,' she says, 'you normally jump at chocolate cake?'

I'm still not breathing, and she's looking at me very closely now.

She's looking at me just below my mouth. 'What's that?' she says. 'What's what?' I say.

'What's that there?' 'Where?' 'There,' she says, pointing at my chin. 'I don't know,' I say. 'It looks like chocolate,' she says. 'It's not chocolate is it?' No answer. 'Is it?' 'I don't know.' She goes to the cupboard looks in, up, top, middle, bottom, turns back to me. 'It's gone. It's gone. You haven't eaten it, have you?' 'I don't know.' 'You don't know. You don't know if you've eaten a whole chocolate cake or not? When? When did you eat it?'

So I told her,

and she said well what could she say? 'That's the last time I give you any cake to take to school. Now go. Get out no wait not before you've washed your dirty sticky face.' I went upstairs looked in the mirror and there it was, just below my mouth, a chocolate smudge. The give-away. Maybe she'll forget about it by next week.

Alright tell me in the tags, what’s Your Poem? That poem you heard once and it has dwelt within you ever since?

[save-the-villainous-cat]

"You hate me right now, don't you?" The villain's breath tickled the hero's neck cruelly and with their hand on the hero's waist, the hero was quite aware that any sudden movements would stir up the entire railway carriage.

They preferred to avoid fights in public. Especially when the space was this limited, especially when the villain could obliterate every single person in here within seconds. The hero counted at least five children within this horribly crowded mess and suddenly, the hair on the exhausted hero's stood up. Their eyes widened.

God, the villain was cruel.

The hero didn't even dare to breathe. Pearls of sweat rolled down their neck.

"I don't know what you're talking about," the hero whispered. They leaned against the villain and lowered their voice. Concentrate. Don't provoke. "But I'll admit, I'm honored to be visited by you during the day. On such short notice, too."

The villain had made it a habit to appear and disappear whenever they pleased. But in the middle of the day was rather daring for them. Other people never seemed to notice them or the villain was able to manipulate other people's minds to delete themselves from their memories. The hero didn't know. There was a lot the hero didn't know about the villain. A lot of unanswered questioned that begged to be answered.

"Surely you're aware by now that flattery doesn't really work on me," the villain said. Their hand moved up the hero's side, their fingers running along the hero's arm until they found their hand. Fingers intertwined. "I am not searching for any kind of validation, not even from you. So. Answer me, please."

The hero looked up at them - the villain was unfortunately a little taller now - and their grip tightened around the metallic pole they were holding onto. The movements of the subway made them sway and there were people everywhere around them, so bumping into the villain involuntarily was unavoidable.

"I'm actually...pretty tired" the hero whispered. Kind of a lie. Kind of the truth. Right now, the hero's entire nervous system was working at full blast. But in general, the hero was very tired. "I don't have enough energy in me to be mad at you. If that makes sense."

"Oh, poor hero," the villain mumbled mockingly. They pressed a soft kiss to the hero's forehead. "Embarrassing you in public isn't fun when you don't care."

It had been cartoonishly embarrassing, but the hero didn't dare to admit that.

"I..."

"I feel almost disrespected," the villain said. They shrugged and looked around the railway carriage. "And kind of bored if I am being totally honest."

The hero could deal with a disappointed villain, even with an angry one. But a bored villain?

The subway came to a screeching halt and the hero felt like throwing up when they looked at the playful smirk on the villain's face. Just thinking about the windows and the floor being painted with blood made them feel uneasy. Everyone's life in here depended on the hero's actions. On their words.

"Uhm...let's take this outside, alright?" the hero asked. Minimise casualties. Protect civilians at all costs.

"Nah, not my stop. And if I'm not being mistaken, this isn't your stop either."

The hero took in a deep breath, tried to steady their voice. When it came to the villain, they had made a lot of mistakes in the past. The hero avoided thinking about that. About the past, about their childhood. They had been friends once, they had planned a future together.

Now, that future they had dreamed of was different. They still had each other, somehow. But it wasn't the same. It wasn't what the hero had wanted.

Now, they were like the other's taunting shadow. Or at least, that was exactly what the villain was to them. A reoccurring reminder of all the hero's failures. Their own personal demonic ghost of a dream they had woken up from too soon.

The villain was cruel and punished them for what the hero had done to them. Or what they believed the hero had done to them.

Either way, the hatred and the pain had grown ugly over the years and the hero found themselves longing for those simpler days all those years ago. Letting go of everything was easier said than done.

Letting go of the ugly parts? The parts where they'd been cursed, the parts where they had been wronged? That was easy.

Letting go of the sweet parts? Summers spent outside, drawing the house they wanted to live in together, the pets they wanted to have, showing weird rocks to each other, going swimming in the lake together, eating until they were passing out, falling asleep on the couch together. The innocent days of childhood?

That was completely different.

"I don't hate you," the hero said. "I'm not mad at you for tying me up and dropping me off at the police station, I don't want to kill you, I don't want to provoke you, I...actually..."

They looked up at the villain and frowned slightly. The villain's features were sharper now and little was left of their round face and their big eyes. Weirdly, the villain was the only person who seemed to change the world around them more than the world was changing them.

Somehow, everything mirrored the villain instead of the villain mirroring the world.

The hero sighed and rose to their tip-toes.

And then, they kissed the villain softly.

The villain disappeared immediately, vanishing as quickly as they had shown up and the hero was alone once again.

However, the feeling of the villain's lips against theirs still lingered, compressed their soul. It hadn't been more than a few milliseconds, but it was all the hero could think about all week.

[bulgariansumo]

Rambling about Adeline and Eiland's social lives under the cut.

For being the super responsible, super organized, for lack of a better word, nerd, I initially assumed that Adeline would be the type that struggles socially. And to some extent, she does a little. She admits to struggling with balancing her work and her hobbies because her work is her hobby, not to mention how important it is to keep up the town.

But that's where Reina and Celine come in. They will make her take a break from work to hang out with them. I get the impression that Adeline is not quite as prone to feel overworked as much as someone else in her position might be because of how her brain is wired. (Just saw her six heart event. Nevermind! Please rest, ma'am!) Still, she enjoys their company and fits in with them well whenever they do hang out. It may help that having good relationships with members of the community is part of running it, which is her fixation.

Then there's Eiland. He doesn't seem to be friends with any of the other bachelors. That's not to say that he's on bad terms with them, but there's no one he hangs out with regularly other than Errol. Most interactions with Balor and March are business dealings related to his interest in archeology. There's room for some kind of relationship development there, but it's interesting to me that it hasn't happened already.

I feel like a big part of the reason Adeline made friends with Reina and Celine is because they're all girls around the same age, so they probably grew up together (though I can see her having met Celine through Nora instead of the other way around).

I haven't read all of the new stuff related to the recent 0.12.0 update, so I don't know March and Olric's backstory or when they ended up in town. Balor and Ryis are new in town. Hayden is much older than Eiland, but more importantly, he doesn't have an interest in archeology. Eiland doesn't usually hang out with any of the girls, either. Celine sometimes talks about him, but in a very "my friend's brother" kind of way. Even his sister, who he's closest with out of any of the singles, is only ever with him during business or dinner. There's dialogue that implies that they're not really interested in the other's fixation, but they respect it. If Eiland had other friends in Mistria, then they must've left after the earthquake.

This is interesting to me because between the siblings, Eiland is the more casual one. He's friendly enough, he's got a sense of humor, and he's not that responsible (messy room, prioritizes sweets over necessities, hates any meeting or paperwork that isn't archeology-related.) If it weren't for his intense focus on archeology, he'd be the kind of person people his age would find easier to vibe with. But he's so obsessed that I genuinely think he struggles to get through any interaction that doesn't involve archeology or sweets. And that's not as easily translatable to everyday conversation as town maintenance.

I get the impression that part of the reason he focuses so much on the past is because he finds it far easier to understand than the present and the people in it. And judging by some things I read about the update, I think I'm right.

[varpusvaras]

Jason gets his new ID card on a Thursday.

It's somehow simultaneously completely unremarkable, and also making his head reel. It's not even the first new, official ID card he has had in his hands - he needed one for the licence, after all, so he'd got one then - but it's still new in every way possible.

Jason turns the card around a couple of times, just to make sure that it's real. It is. New and shiny, with his own face looking back at him from the front. His face is also somehow the same old and completely new at the same time. It is very much him, in the picture, but Jason feels like he is looking at his long lost twin brother rather than at himself. His hair is freshly cut, completely black. His skin is tanned more than it has been in years, from spending a lot of time under the California sun during the past few weeks. He is wearing a light blue button-down shirt, one that Jason wouldn't usually never be caught in publicly.

It is him, still.

Jason is pretty sure he shouldn't have gotten neither of his new, official state-issued ID's so fast, or gotten everything else sorted out so quick either, but Roy has his own ways of doing things. This is the one time his previous government-connections came in handy, he had said after Jason had said yes, and then he had kissed Jason on the forehead and told him not to worry about it.

Jason had let Roy take care of it all. Doing things for others is how he shows affection, and Jason had felt that Roy had needed to take care of Jason even more than Jason had needed Roy to take care of him. Not that Jason is complaining about it. He still feels a bit untethered, and most things are taking entirely too much out of him, either physically or mentally, though Jason is not sure which is which most of the time.

Not that it really matters.

He finally turns his eyes away from his picture to what is written on the rest of the card. His birthday is correct, for once, since this is an official card and not a fake one for whatever purpose Jason had needed one over the years. His address is also on the card, and Jason cannot help but feel a sense of elevation for it. It makes him feel a little stupid. It's an address (Roy's address, their address, Jason officially lives there too-), not a new name or anything like that.

Jason is not really sure if he can look at the name on the card and not immediately combust on the spot, if the address is making him feel this way already.

The ring on his finger feels heavy. Jason takes a deep breath and moves his thumb where it had been covering the rest of the text.

Jason Peter Harper.

It's his name.

It's him.

Jason reads it again. Then again. Then again once, twice, three times more.

Jason Peter Harper looks at him from the picture while he does so. Jason's head is really spinning, and he forces it to stop, hard.

It is him.

He is Jason Peter Harper.

He is the man in the picture on the card.

That's him.

The door opens and closes in the hallway. Roy comes up to Jason when Jason doesn't answer to his greeting.

"Everything okay?" He asks, as he gets to Jason's back.

"Yeah", Jason manages to get out from his mouth. "My new card came in."

"Oh, already?" Roy says. "That was fast. Let me see?"

Jason lifts the card up a bit, so Roy can read it over his shoulder. From how close Roy is standing to him, Jason can hear the small, gentle stutter in his breath as he reads the name. It isn't like neither of them had not seen it already, written like that, since it is in other forms they had filled out, but apparently, it is still making Roy feel just as much things as Jason does.

Jason hopes that it never stops doing that for either of them. Or at least, not for a very long time.

He needs something to last.

"Nice name you got there, Harper", Roy says, and Jason swears that he can almost feel Roy's smile on his skin. He then feels Roy's body pressing against him, warm and strong and solid. Roy wraps his arms around Jason, his head dipping down to rest on Jason, and Jason turns to look at Roy's hands and at the mathing golden wedding band he has on his finger.

"You're mine", Roy says against Jason's shoulder. It is what he has been saying, ever since the clerck at the City Hall had put their name on the paper, singing their lives together. You're mine, you're mine, you're mine, and no one can say otherwise.

Jason had needed to hear it.

He still does.

Jason looks up at the card. It's strange, how a little piece of plastic can tell everyone who he is.

Jason breathes in and closes his eyes, just feeling it all.

His name is Jason Peter Harper. He's alive.

His name is Jason Peter Harper, and for the first time since he died, he thinks he can be happy.

[nanenna]

I couldn't stop thinking about this despite having like 5gajillion wips, so have my humble submission. Be warned: lots of set up/narration. Also Bruce thinks a few times how grateful he is Barbara is currently "whole", this isn't meant to be ablist so much as him just being grateful she hasn't been injured by the Joker yet.

-------

Bruce woke up startled, chest heaving as he flailed around, disoriented. Where was he? When was he? What was the last thing he remembered? There were two sets of memories for that. He remembered having another fight with Dick after the end of a regular patrol before trudging up to bed. He also remembered years and years following that unremarkable patrol, an invasion, a battle, and fearing maybe this time he really was going to die.

He fumbled around until he found a lamp and turned it on. He was in his bed in the manor, in his own bedroom. There sitting on the nightstand, under the lamp he'd just turned on, was a phone on its charger. It was an older model. It was the newest model. It was both.

Bruce lunged for it, quickly turning it on to see the date and time. It was the past. Or it was the present and these new memories are the future. It was both.

Bruce let his head fall into his other hand, the one not holding the new/old phone. He was disoriented, he was confused, he was overwhelmed.

It was 4 o'clock in the goddamned morning.

Alfred couldn't make him contribute to the swear jar if he kept the swears internal.

No, focus. Focus on the present, what were his plans for the morning? Was it a school day? Did Alfred have plans? Fuck it, Bruce was calling all of them in sick, he needed to sort through all the memories he'd just had dumped on him and he… he needed to talk to his son. There was years of hurt he could prevent right now if he just swallowed his pride and TALKED to Dick.

Jason would be so proud of him.

Jason! Where was he right now? And Tim? Duke? Damian? Cass? Steph? Barbara would be home safe in her bed in her own home with Gordon, safe and whole. The others should be too, to varying degrees.

But Jason! And Cass!

Bruce practically flung himself from his bed, not even bothering with a robe before rushing into the hallway.

--------

It had taken both Dick and Alfred wrestling Bruce down to the kitchen to sit at the island and several cups of tea for Bruce to confusingly, haltingly stumble through his whole explanation. He kept having to backtrack to explain who the names he kept dropping were. It hurt to see that confusion and lack of recognition on their faces. It hurt seeing Alfred alive and well and so much younger, to see Dick be so very very young.

Eventually they decided to bring Barbara into it, knowing they would need her help.

Amazingly having to explain everything helped Bruce organize his racing thoughts. He even had the beginnings of a plan by the time he was winding down.

The first step was to confirm whether or not these sudden new memories were real. The easiest way was actually to go find his closest two sons: Tim and Jason.

Tim was easy enough, now that he and Dick knew he was following them on patrol he was rather easy to spot and even easier to convince the small, star struck boy back to the cave. It was no effort at all to get him to agree to move into the manor until his parents returned from their trip. Bruce would not make getting custody of Tim back easy for them.

Jason was a little more difficult. Willis and Catherine had both died and Jason had fallen into the cracks, completely vanished from the legal eye. They had to hunt through the streets of Park Row and Bruce winced with guilt all the while. Jason had been right, it wasn't fair of him to just give up on the entire neighborhood like he had. Bruce also knew he'd been right that it wouldn't be fair to the rest of Gotham for him to pour everything into Park Row and leave the rest of the city to rot. It was something he, Dick, and Barbara could plan together, because it was a lesson his future self had learned too late but Bruce was going to stand by: to actually work together you needed to communicate.

Once Jason had finally been found and brought home (safe! Safe and home where he belonged, where he had free access to all the food and books his little heart could desire) the next to get was Cass. Duke and Steph had loving homes, well Steph did once her father was behind bars and her mother being given a monthly stipend to support them. Bruce felt a little bad, knowing Cass was suffering and he'd waited until Jason was safe first, but Alfred and Dick had agreed this was for the best.

It took a great deal of searching, Cass had gone wandering far further than Jason ever had while homeless. It was all worth it when they finally found her and Bruce held out his hand, knowing she could read the love he had for his little girl in every line of his body.

Cass was home! Safe and loved and learning ASL alongside the rest of his children, already becoming fast friends with Barbara (whole and healthy still). It was finally time to bring home his baby.

--------

It may have been Batman that walked into Nanda Parbat but it was Bruce who confronted Talia.

“Beloved, what brings you here?” Talia greeted him with a wide smile and arms.

“I'm here for my son.”

A look of carefully cultivated surprise crossed her face. “How did you find out?”

“Last time you dropped him off at my doorstep when he was ten years old.”

“Ah, time travel then.”

“Of a sort,” Bruce agreed. “Frankly, I'm hurt you kept him from me for so long, I'm hurt you just left him behind without any warning too.”

“You have so many children now, one would think you have enough to keep you busy.” Talia turned away with a huff.

“I wasn't going to wait for them to find me this time when I can care for them now.” Bruce wasn't ashamed of loving his children, he planned on telling them so, often and loudly. “I also know what Ra's has planned for Damian, even if you don't. I won't stand by for him any more than I will the others.”

Talia stayed turned away from Bruce a moment longer, then turned back, her face carefully blank. “Just Damian?”

“All my children,” Bruce affirmed, unsure what exactly Talia meant.

Talia’s lips thinned, then she turned and started walking. Bruce followed, carefully keeping pace with her. She led him further into the compound, into the private living quarters used for the family of Ra’s. Eventually they entered a room, presumably Talia’s. She led him further into the room, where an attendant obediently bowed out of the way at their approach. The floor was covered in a plush rug and pillows, sitting in the center surrounded by clunky toys were two toddlers.

Bruce froze as he stared down at the two children in shock.

There were two.

Why were there two?

Both looked up as Talia approached, one with her glittering green eyes and one with shimmering blue.

Twins.

Damian had a twin.

Damian never told anyone he had a twin.

Talia had never told him he’d had another child.

Bruce’s mind raced as he furiously went through the foreign memories, though they had already started to fade. J’onn had warned him that was likely to happen, and he should let it lest the extra memories cause issues later. But right now he couldn’t help frantically sorting through them, trying to find some clue or reason.

“Damian you already know, and this is Daniel.”

“Twins,” Bruce found himself croaking out as he stared at the blue eyed boy in heartbroken grief. “In the other timeline Damian never mentioned a twin.”

Talia nodded, “And I did not either.”

“No.”

“Something must have happened to him, something awful. It was possibly the reason my other self brought Damian to you.”

When he first arrived had Damian been grieving his twin’s death? Had that been why he was so quick and steadfast in rejecting any sibling? Had every time someone called Tim or Dick or Jason his brother been another sprinkling of salt in a wound that was all too fresh?

Talia picked Daniel up and stepped over to Bruce. “Habibi this is your father.”

Bruce quickly pushed the cowl off and removed his gloves. There wasn’t much to be done for the rest of his armor, but he wanted his sons to be as comfortable as possible.

“We may never know what happened then, but if my other self thought Damian would only be safe with you then I trust her. And I trust you, my beloved.”

Bruce swallowed thickly as he took Daniel in his arms, holding the lost son he’d never known about. “I… thank you, Talia.”

Talia bent and picked Damian up, then handed him over as well. “Thank me by raising them well.”

“Come check on them,” Bruce blurted out. “You’re still their mother, I won’t prevent you from seeing them. Come visit, be a part of their lives, tell me I spoil them too much.” Bruce didn’t know what he was saying, that ship had long sailed. Or it had, in that other timeline that now wouldn’t ever happen, couldn’t after the changes that had already happened. He knew that other Bruce had been too in love with Selina and too bitter towards Talia to even consider this. But in the here and now…

“I will visit,” Talia said firmly, “but I will not stay.”

“I’m sure they’ll be happy to see you,” Bruce said, just repeating banal niceties at this point.

Talia smiled as she reached up to pull his cowl back on. “I must distract Father while you leave. Be well, Beloved, my darlings.” Talia leaned down to give each boy a single kiss on the head, ending with a kiss to Bruce’s cheek.

--------

Everyone had been shocked when he walked off the plane carrying two toddlers, but none more than Alfred, Barbara, and Dick. After getting everyone settled down and the twins in their new bedroom (thankfully they had enough things for two boys, thank heavens for Alfred overpreparing), the four of them convened in Bruce’s office where Alfred had brought them all tea and a few snacks.

“Twins,” Alfred asked once everyone had taken a seat and a cup.

Bruce huffed out a long sigh, “I had no idea. In the other timeline neither Damian nor Talia ever mentioned Daniel. Something happened, something awful.”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it, B,” Dick said seriously. “There was no way for you to know, and there’s no way to find out now.”

“You’re just going to hurt yourself if you keep trying to remember something that never happened and now never will,” Barbara added.

“Miss Barbara is correct,” Alfred said gently. “The important thing now is to ensure the boy’s continued health and safety. There’s no use in worrying about a timeline that you no longer have a connection to.”

Bruce nodded, he needed to let the memories go, he needed to be able to focus on the here and now. He’d written down as much as he could remember already, an edited down version given to the Justice League to consult though he felt it would become increasingly useless over time. Just by mending things with Dick and finding all his children he’d already changed things so drastically he doubted the memories would be useful for their family.

“Yes, you’re right, Daniel was a curve ball but he doesn’t really change the plan.” The next step: neutralize the Joker. There really were a variety of ways to make the man no longer a threat that didn’t kill him, and it was well past time Bruce chose one.

I have seen batfam fics and ideas where time traveling Bruce gets the kids earlier and stops all the bad things from happening to them. But I can't help but want to combine this with the DCXDP demon twins AU.

Imagine time traveler Bruce showing up at the league of assassins years early demanding his son... Only for two children to come out. Now he is forced to learn he had another son no one told him about. He has no clue what happened to Danny in the original timeline, only that it must have been bad for Damian to have never mentioned it.

[iz-star]

About Zayne's nightmares...

The most unrealistic thing about Zayne is that he's a functional working adult that seemingly has put his life together at 27 not because he's young or a prodigy but because he's said to have nightmares since he was 12?? Like... I feel like this theme might be a bit overlooked but just think about it deeply, having constant nightmares fucks your mind like really REALLY bad, I can genuinely say this by experience and also as someone who has had trouble to have a healthy sleeping schedule since I was at highschool (like, for example, right now, I should be sleeping instead of writing this...).

There was a time I would have nightmares almost everytime I went to sleep during a really hard time in my life. Of course, the topic about those nightmares was almost always the same, not like the nightmares repeated themselves but they always revolved about the same things that I was actually working in therapy at the moment. Back then I was jobless and medicated most part of the time, I was pretty dysfunctional.

I suppose that's why when I listened to "Fragmented Dreams" for the first time it was the time I said "Yeah, this is my man". I love how he's always nagging MC about sleeping early because I know by experience that not sleeping properly can mess up with your mind pretty bad, and probably he knows it too. It truly is a showcase of love how he worries about her sleep like that and it also showcases how strong minded he is for enduring too much stress and remind kind constantly.

I love how healthy he is. I like to think that he's overcome all the stressful stuff he's gone thru bc of his discipline and healthy life style, but realistically it would take him some more to deal with all of that.

Yes, all of the guys have been through some very rough stuff and they all need therapy, but my point with Zayne comes with the fact that not having a good sleeping schedule and on top of that having constant nightmares can mess up with your perception of reality and induce you a bad depression or other mental health issues. Everytime I remember Zayne's main story branch when they're trapped in Zayne's dream and MC leaves him alone and he starts listening to Willian, Georgie and his Mom so he has to remind himself "It's not real, it's not real" I deeply feel that and I just want to hug him so bad :(

I think I'd like to see a card where they explore the consecuences of their past in their psyche more deeply. I can't help remembering this post which was one of the first posts you unlock with Zayne:

It was there when I just knew that even if he looked quiet, he had a lot to say but didn't know how to express.

Another thing I'd like to highlight about this is that actually I love the emotional maturity that Zayne displays about dealing with such issues like nightmares, traumatic experiences and literally being exposed to see people dying 24/7 while being someone that feels a lot yet says little. He's dealt with this the best way he can, no wonder why he came to be quite serious and inexpressive or sarcastic. Not allowing himself to express other emotions than seriousness or sarcasm was like keeping himself in check so he wouldn't spill everything he feels and considering how stressing is his job already, it just makes sense, but that didn't mean Zayne didn't feel because he feels too much and too deeply and worries sick about ppl and especially about MC.

Of course, bottling up his emotions wasn't the best way to deal with them but he never used any unhealthy coping mechanism neither, like alcohol, for example (My teetotaler King ❤️) etc. Yeah, his workaholism isn't exactly healthy but not something toxic to his mind and relationships, and I've always had a feeling that he's a big foodie and addicted to sweets to give himself that boost of serotonine he needs so bad.

That's why he compares MC with sweets, being her his favorite dessert, bc she's brought all that serotonine to his life naturally and has helped him let go little by little. When he opened to her about losing Dulcie, I had a feeling that Zayne always wanted someone to listen to him but he didn't know how to ask for it and ppl around him was too afraid to even dare to suggest it. I think even in one of his anecdotes, it is said that sometimes Dr Noah wanted to tell him something but at the end ended up saying nothing.

The fact that Zayne bottled up his emotions didn't mean that he wouldn't willingly share them, he wanted to but wasn't used to it. With MC, he's slowy started to let it go and enjoy life more, allowing himself to be sad in front of her, to express his fears (about losing her) or to express his childish tantrums and indulge in his softest side. That's why also she's not only his favorite dessert but also his best painkiller ❤️

And just to finish, I've always thought this quote by Kafka fits him so well:

"Remember, you should sleep more than other people, for I sleep less than most. And I can’t think of a better place to store my unused share of universal sleep than in your beloved eyes."

[flightyalrighty]

…I find it lowkey weird when someone says Sonic is bit of bully or mean in your comic.

I know you have him take after Archie and Fleetway, but he feels normal to me?

Or is it because I grew up with Sonic media that had him being abrasive that I got used to it..?

This image of being this -perfectly nice- hedgehog that people get from him kinda makes me wonder constantly, do you know how he was back then?

Would you perceive him the same way if you gotten to known him a bit later excluding the older comics?

SEGA has kept a few things consistent with Sonic and one of them being he was always this dude with an attitude. for better or for worse. That didn't mean he didn't care for anyone, it's just part of who he is. Once you can see past that, you know that despite his meanness, he's a solid guy that means well.

(I got a few asks in a short span of time so I hope I'm lining up the correct follow-up with the original here)

So! Okay. So, here's the thing about Sonic and his whole "attitude" thing. These days, canonically, it's kinda non-existent? Sonic's personality got sandpapered (in the games) until it was nice and smooth for the past, uhhh, like deca -- No, not even. I think he's actually been like this since 2005.

Like sure, he'll make a few lame jokes at Eggman's expense in the Meta Era but like. He's a ray of sunshine to everyone else (besides that one thing they got rid of in the Sonic Gens "remaster" with Amy). He's not even GENUINELY mean to Knuckles the way he used to be. There is no actual beef there, it's really just friendly banter he's having with his friends.

Even more about this below cut vvv

The main sources of Sonic Attitude™ I ever experienced growing up was that little itty bit left within Sonic Heroes and MOSTLY just Archie Sonic (and some STC Online reading I did as a kid) and Sonic X. Make no mistake, Sonic definitely had a range of "Attitude" to "Asshole" in those works. It just wasn't present in the games. So if you were a kid growing up and only knew Sonic FROM the games, that so-called attitude was gonna be minimal if you're age 30 or under.

And any attitude he gave would be only to people he perceived to be enemies (or Jet the Hawk).

Jump forward in time to the end of the Meta era, and we've come to a point in which Sonic is very nice. He's everyone's cool big brother. He's a "friend to all children." The perfect role model. He's very nice in Sonic Prime. In IDW, some fans would even argue he's TOO nice. TOO forgiving. To this I say, it is what it is. I just don't believe Sonic's mean-ness level is all that consistent. Perhaps someday we'll see that attitude again. Perhaps.

Now, to finally address your initial comment: I am the one who says this. I am the one who says he is mean in Infested. And! That's because he's written that way.

This isn't modern nice Sonic, but this also isn't Attitude Guy from the 90s/early 2000s. This is a secret third thing. And by that I mean he's an amalgamation of STC Sonic and Archie Sonic. He's done a lot of learning and growing and he doesn't want to hurt his friends, but his first instinct is harsh, snippy commentary or outright lashing out. He has learned and has to bury that horrible little monster inside him. For Tails's sake.

[firelightfics]

Work your magic.

Scar x Mage! Healer! Gn! Reader

From this message (CAUSE I FORGOT TO TURN THE ASKS THING ON BEFORE AND REALISED SO LATE 😭)

Warnings: mentions of illness, violence and drug use [not Reader], should be mostly fluff though, banished mage reader, okay.. I kinda gave Reader an adoptive daughter I can't help it I'm sorry.

Extra: The person requested for the reader to be strong, so I went with the route of them being able to create and manipulate detailed and realistic illusions, and their strength is in that sort of field rather than battle strength. So they have a more mental strength and can manipulate dreams although its not really a main point.

DID I NAME SCARS BABY? YES. I NAMED HER RIRI OKAY? ITS CUTE. SHE'S CUTE.

Summary: Y/n, a mage, who has wandered too far from home finds themself under the care of the firelights. Or perhaps the firelights have found themselves in their care. A particular chirean takes interest in their less than typical methods of calming people.

Masterlist.

Ko-fi

---

Its been too long since I have seen my family. I come from a place far from here, so far I'm not even sure it is of the same plane of existence. My home feels foreign to me now. Years have passed since I was there. Banishment does tend to keep a person away I suppose.

Since I have wandered to a new home, a place I stumbled upon by chance. No, even that isn't right. I stumbled upon the person running this place is more accurate, he was shielding a small injured girl from harsh weather and clearly manic due to the fear of losing the child in the even harsher city of Zaun. I offered them help as I was nearby enough with a place to stay. I couldn't be more glad that Ekko accepted my help that day, as stubborn as he can be.

Its only been a couple of weeks since such an event, but Flora has healed quickly with my help and has been helping introduce me to the Firelights. She's a sweet girl who now seems rather attatched to me and tends to stick around the medical area that I have taken residence in. Ekko, the leader, has helped me get more comfortable here and I couldn't be happier. Or maybe, I could be happier. I've never tried to be more than just content, its all my family allowed until I tried something new and got myself banished.

In the past few weeks, many people have come to me for assistance. Plenty injured from time out on the streets, a few scraped and scratched children and returning firelights after their dangerous missions. It worries me how many shimmer affected patients I've recieved, this drug is a foreign concept to me still but calming those affected with illusions of things they enjoy seems to solve their aggression for a time until the drug wears out. Healing can only help so much when the wounds are not visible. I find much more difficultly with these patients, but if I weren't up to the challenge I would have left.

-

Flora had just settled in for the night, a small loft area for her to use as she pleases. Although she doesn't have a proper room, I plan to change one of the unused rooms into a proper space for her if she wishes. For particularly gruesome patients, I always ask her to return to her normal room and she does. What a sweetheart. I hum a tune as I pack away balms and bandages to use another day. The quiet is nice with the shadowy atmosphere, few things would dare disturb such a calm. Few, but never zero.

The door is quickly flung on its hinges as Scar, Ekko's seemingly stern right-hand man, bursts into the room, startling me and Flora, who was very nearly drifting off. His eyes are wide with a certain kind of distress only a worried father can display. In his arms is his screaming baby girl, the poor dear clearly unwell. Not a word is said as I take her from his arms and usher her to the nearest and softest place to lay her. Scar seems to shake with terror. He must be almost as frightened as her.

I gently feel her forehead to vaguely check my suspicions of a fever and am pleased to have guessed correctly. I swirl my hands with a dark blue starry mist forming into shapes and animals, floating and playing with one another as a distraction for the poor baby. Her cries seem to dull, if only for a moment. Her concentration taken from what I could only assume to be a headache and placed on a starry fox prancing amongst a now fully formed forest scene. With the distraction working, I quickly gather a child friendly medication for her. Its a sweeter flavour than most but she surely won't mind or care as she is too enraptured by the friendly forest creatures of my hometown.

She doesn't fight or fuss over the medication, simply grumblles a little, and turns back to her little show. However, I'm reminded of another presence when the silence is broken by his ragged breathing. I assume Flora is asleep after the littlest was calmed. I pick her up and move towards where Scar is sat. The larger man looks utterly horrified, his normally steady stance shattered at the thought of his daughter being deathly ill. Luckily, it seems to be not much more than a fever and headache.

"Rough day?" I ask simply as I bounce her lightly in my arms before handing her back to Scar. He sighs as he carefully grips her small form, his lip twitches up in a quick huff of air and smirk paired as one.

"Something like that. Is she going to be okay?" He quickly switches topics to avoid the obvious worry I have forming for him.

"Of course, it doesn't seem like anything serious. No real magic had to be used aside from my little 'puppet show' for her." I gently tickle under her chin, causing her to giggle at the attention. Scar's eyes bounce up to meet mine, and he smiles. Staring into his eyes, I see the clear tiredness of a struggling parent.

"We shou-"

"You should stay." I catch him before he tries to flee. Why is he so against taking a break? If not for his own sake, why not her sake? "I have a cot she can use, and we have spare room for you both it really wouldn't trouble us. To be able to look after her, you need to be able to look after yourself."

He looks down and grimaces but nods and follows while I guide him to one of the spare rooms that are likely to keep longer-term patients, but I've never had that, so they're empty. I bring him to a room with items for caring for babies and a bed big enough for him to sleep nearby. He lays her down so gently that it makes me honestly question what I even know about the man.

"Thank you." Is the last thing spoken between us as I leave for the night.

-

This is the first of a few of our encounters, seemingly becoming more frequent. His eyes always a sharp contrast to their normal rough shape and instead becoming soft around me and little Riri. Maybe a small bit of progress, but it is progress nonetheless.

She quickly recovered and yet Scar was adamant on staying and asking me to care for her when I could, which was admittedly most of the time since the only patient I seem to ever recieve is the vastayan himself. As though he was allowing only himself to take the rougher hits to get treated by me.

The door to the clinic gently clicks open and Scar appears in the room, Flora and Riri are playing in the far corner and I'm reading a worn down book on the counter.

"Pick up time already? My, how the time flies. I-"

"Actually I'd like to stay tonight, if thats okay?"

My face contorts to one of confusion, but I won't lie and say it isn't a pleasant surprise. I simply nod, thinking he'd leave to the room he's basically claimed as his and Riri's. However as he stops he nods me over.

Curious, I follow without any debate. Flora will look out for Riri and knows what she's doing by now. He sighs as he drops to sit on the bed and pats a spot next to him.

"I, I have had trouble sleeping." He grimaces and puts his back against the wall. "I was wondering if you could use those illusions of yours to help me?"

My eyebrows raise, and my mouth falls open slightly. He's asking me to use my magic on him? I was convinced he hated it as he only ever cautiously stared when I'd used it. I thought he was afraid. His brows are pulled together, and he can't meet my eyes, hands placed on his lap in front of him.

"Why would I ever turn down my second best patient?" I grin at him and he looks up confused.

"How am I second?" Almost offended, a fake snarl on his lips but a slight upturn that is barely hiding a smirk.

"Oh poor dear," my hand gingerly raises to meet his cheek, "are you jealous?"

He quickly breaks and chuckles, fake snarl failing completely, instead changing to a weak smile. Oh, so we are like that, I suppose. The grin on my face turns to a full smile that I hope properly conveys the joy that comes with the accidental confession of sorts.

"How could you possibly be jealous of your own daughter? The little thing has been such an angel, why wouldn't she be my number one." I tease knowing it will irk him slightly.

Before I can revel in my slight victory, he gets in close and grabs a hold of my jaw. Eyes meeting mine in an intense stare before quickly pressing his lips to mine. Simple. Yet so impactful. He pulls back and his eyes droop, the tiredness still there yet he seems far more awake somehow.

"Shut up and work your magic, mage. The quicker your done, the quicker we can sleep."

"We? Whoever said I was going to sleep too?"

"Me."

---

OKAY I THINK I LOST THE PLOT OF WHAT I ORIGINALLY WANTED TO DO WITH THIS PROMPT BUT I can't lie, they're cuties still 🤭

I'll be getting through each request one at a time and will post when I open them up again, sorry this took so long (im still reeling from Act 3 ngl but also life is catching up to me so it might be a sec)

[novankenn]

(Artwork created/owned by @pilot-boi, No rights Claimed/Implied by the author of this story)

The TA -- Joan(Jaune) Arc

Joan(Jaune) stood in Beacon's courtyard, totally not overwhelmed by the number of students. Her mother had decided Joan(Jaune) needed to get some real world experiences so after discussing (threatening) her sister Glynda Goodwitch, Joan(Jaune) found herself assigned to work as a TA for her aunt and some of the other professors.

Joan(Jaune) was thinking it was a mistake, and she should sneak off and go hang with Saphron and Terra in Argus. Like seriously! Everyone! Literally everyone was walking around with weapons! There were swords, spears, knives, guns of every type, even a scythe! That's a farming tool! Next she'll see someone with a shovel or a rake!

"Of course I would." Joan(Jaune) deadpanned as two students just walked past her with those exact lawn and garden tools balanced on against their shoulders.

An explosion behind her caused Joan(Jaune) to shriek and jump backwards. Causing her to bounce off someone.

"Watch it dude!" came the gruff voice, as the young man just kept walking. Joan(Jaune) sighed. Looking around again for her Auntie, she noticed the girl with a red cap, still laying in a small crater. Seeing no one offering a hand, Joan(Jaune) did the right thing and walked over.

"Welcome to Beacon." the capped girl muttered.

"Need a hand?" Joan(Jaune) asked, while offering her hand to assist.

"Thanks?" the girl replied. Once she was once again vertical, she looked at Joan(Jaune) with her silver eyes. "I'm Ruby Rose."

"Joan(Jaune) Arc." and instantly she growled, as Ruby was giggling at her name. Joan(Jaune) knew exactly why, and was waiting for the question to be asked for the millionth time.

"Joan? Isn't that girl's name?"

"Yes, it is, and before you say anything else... I am a girl." Joan(Jaune) was annoyed, while all her sisters hit the jackpot with in the family gene pool, Joan(Jaune) seemed to have drawn the short straw. What truly baffled her was how NO ONE could tell she was a girl just from the sound of her voice!

"Really?" Ruby tilted her head and squinted, before nodding. "Yep, sorry about that. I see it now."

Joan(Jaune) just deadpanned. She should have gone to Argus. Terra could have gotten her an internship at the CCT.

"Do you want to see my baby?" Ruby beamed as she pulled some weird boxy contraption from under her cap.

"Is that a weapon of some kind?" Joan(Jaune) asked taking a step back.

"Yep!"

"Maybe later?"

"Aw. Phooey."

"Sorry, but I'll take a rain check." Joan(Jaune) offered, "It's just I need to find my Aunt. I'm working here with her for a term."

"Working? You mean you're not a huntsm... huntress-in-training?"

"No."

"Seriously?"

"Yes."

"Huh." Ruby started to fidget. "Um..."

"Yes?"

"Do you know where the auditorium is? I was supposed to head there until I ran into that meanie... which wouldn't have happened if my stupid boob-zilla sister hadn't run off!"

"Sure." Joan(Jaune) smiled warmly. Ruby seemed like a nice person, so why not give her a helping hand. It's not like she's some weapon obsessed gothic loli. Paused and gave Ruby a once over and then shrugged. "Already said I will, can't back out now."

"Did you say something?"

"Just talking to myself."

"Oh. Do you do that often?" Ruby froze, and started to stammer, "I'm sorry! I didn't mean it! I'm not judging< I swear!"

"Ruby... it's okay. It's okay."

"You not just saying that are you? I mean I would totally understand if you were, considering..."

"RUBY!" Joan(Jaune) shouted to get the red caped gothic loli to focus. "You didn't do anything to be so worked up about. Okay?"

"Okay, I..."

"No."

"No?"

"Do not say I guess." Joan(Jaune) sighed. "There is no middle ground here. You are either okay or your not. So are you okay?"

"Yes!"

"Good, now let's get to the auditorium."

(A/N - I have no idea what it is... but I see these pictures/drawings... and just have a NEED to write something for them. I think I have issues. None of the above is cannon to what ever AU this image is associated with.)

Have you ever drawn rule 63 Jaune?

Not sure, but here she is

Honestly in my style she looks almost exactly the same as normal lol

[pleasestayawayidonotlikeyou]

Hi!

I have a request for FellSwap Gold bros, UnderSwap bros, and Underfell Bros x SUPER shy reader!!

Reader having really bad social anxiety, has a hard time speaking up and is just super quiet, and just generally nervous all the time due to past trauma.

How do you think the skeletons would act towards an S/O being so shy??

Featuring: Sky, Honey, Red, Edge, Wine and Coffee.

Masterlist

Sky

You remind him of his brother a bit.. not completely since you two have a lot of differences yet it's probably the shy personality.

He has no problem with you being shy! He just wished you'd talk more when you two go out.. oh wait yeah you're socially anxious.

Sky does his best to keep you relaxed, he hates seeing people he loves nervous or anxious, he just hopes the methods he uses with his brother work with you too..

If you ever want to talk about your traumas with him, he'll feel honored, people only do this kind of thing when they trust each other, and to know you trust him enough to talk about traumatic things that have affected you in the past.. it makes him feel like he's one of the most important persons to you.

Please tell him if anything is bothering you, he doesn't want to see you uncomfortable nor panicked.

Honey

"Welcome to the club sweetheart.."

Honey also has a hard type speaking up, more with strangers than with people he's friends with, and his anxiety doesn't help much.

So, why not help each other out?

He's not the best, yet he's always there to listen to you if you'd like, and he'd be very happy if you'd hear him too.

At the end of the day, the books he writes are a distraction- an escape from reality he found to both make money and to do something he enjoys, so maybe you can find something to distract you too?

Your shyness doesn't bother him, if anything it's something he knows is a part of you, and he's always by your side when he can.

Red

Oh well, guess you two aren't really leaving the house..

Red doesn't really like leaving his house, so if he isn't working he's most definitely chilling on the couch.

He's not the best at giving advice, damn, the last time he gave someone advice that person tried to poison him, yet he'll be happy to listen to you if you're ever comfortable enough to do it.

Your shyness and quietness doesn't bother him in the least, it feels kinda good to just.. rant to you about work while cuddling y'know?

"Ya may not even realize, yet cha' make me the happiest skeleton in all earth sweetheart."

Edge

He's the literal opposite of you.

Edge has a talk with you, asking if you would like to have some therapy sessions, and if you agree he's already paying for it.

Tries to convince you to leave the house when he's not working and the weather is good, he doesn't force you but he'd be happy when you successfully socialize with someone, even just a little bit.

Stands up for you, no matter the situation. He's pretty famous because of his cooking you know? Who's gonna turn him down huh? One word and a security guard will take that person away.

He isn't someone to give advice about trauma, if anything he'd much rather hear you trauma-dump, that way he can find the best way to try and help.

Wine

His brother's just like you. He already knows what to do.

Won't force you to leave the house if you don't want to, yet he'll "reward" you with small things when you do, buying ice cream, plushies you want, books or video games if you like them.. you get the deal.

Something he noticed was wherever you go, his brother follows, guess Coffee finally found someone like him huh?

If someone even dares to be slightly rude towards you, Wine makes sure that person won't ever bother you again.

Anything you tell him, he'll give advice, no matter what it is.

Coffee

He's EXACTLY like you.

Coffee has a really bad social anxiety and has a hard time feeling comfortable to talk, so he mostly communicates by notes!

May influence you to do the same as him...

Doesn't bother him that you're quiet, quite the opposite actually, after hearing Rus and Cash ramble for HOURS on the swap papyruses reunion, he couldn't beg more for some silent cuddles with his loved one.

If you ever want to talk about your traumas with him, he's going to listen, even if he doesn't give the best advice.

[eskumii]

yandere!genin!sasuke uchiha + darling who's secretly half uchiha hcs

TITLE: " LIKE WATER, LIKE BLOOD " — navi. — general yandere!sasuke hcs.

NOTES: i've been randomly feinin over naruto again and this idea just won't leave me alone :'D don't press me on lore specific stuff i just yap and pretend it's true ok. also i accidently posted this b4 it was finished ... if you read that, no u didn't.

☆ you're no stranger to the fact that your mother had an affair with an uchiha man a few years before the entire clan was slaughtered like cows. your father had been a high-ranking official in fugaku's inner circle, but you had never learned his name, even when he secretly visited you and your mother on weekends between his missions and clan dealings.

☆ this is not to say, of course, that he was a bad man. he often tried to instill core uchiha values into you (never dishonor the uchiha clan name, always seek to carry on its legacy and strength, etc..) but nothing ever seemed to stick. you were more interested in the little trinkets he would bring you: necklaces, bracelets, hair ribbons, hand fans, and various other accessories that were often branded with the uchiha symbol. none of it was ever worn out in public, though, so you just hung them on your walls instead.

☆ after your father's death, you eventually distanced yourself from the uchiha side of your identity as it had always been steeped in secrecy and the fear of scrutiny from the third hokage/konoha elders/villagers who felt strongly about the nine tails attack. after all, you aren't supposed to exist. you're not sure what your mother was thinking when she got knocked up at such a politically fragile time, when the uchiha clan were still under fire for conspiracy and treason.

☆ at the academy, you intentionally avoid sasuke. you've probably spoken to him a handful of times—many of which were him telling you to get out of his way, or to shut up if you were talking too loud with your friends (your assigned seat was directly behind his, unfortunately).

☆ it isn't until much later after you graduate from the academy and are placed into teams that sasuke somehow finds out you're also an uchiha. whether someone told him or he just... knew, you do not know. at this point, you haven't seen him in months (you're on different teams), so him appearing on the landing outside of your open window is a very startling jumpscare.

☆ he takes one look around your room, which has uchiha merch strung up all over the place, and is immediately pissed at you. all this time there was another surviving member of his clan and he had no clue? and it was you, of all people?

☆ sasuke always thought you were weird and suspicious during your days at the academy. whenever he interacted with you, you would cower from him, almost looking ashamed. you were adept at everything he was and, as much as he used to hate admitting it, you were often his competition when it came to scoring at the top of various skill tests. looking back, it all makes sense: the blood in your veins is special, as uchiha children often are. as he is. and now, instead of callousness, he feels a kindling of pride at your excellence.

☆ it takes no time at all for everything to change between you and sasuke. after he barges his way into your room (you don't how he found out where you live in the first place?!), he forces you to explain why you lied about being an uchiha. you have no choice but to comply after his threatening glares pin you into submission and he refuses to let you past him until you talk.

☆ sasuke really doesn't care that you're a "half uchiha." you descended directly from a member of the uchiha clan so as far as he's concerned, you're his kin through and through. this discovery immediately sparks something primal in sasuke, like a desprate clinging to preserve what has been, and to protect what can be.

☆ you're often dragged away to secluded places by sasuke—the training grounds, usually. you try to fight but sasuke is just stronger than you and you are easily wrestled into defeat; a reoccuring pattern that makes you feel unsafe around him. but despite your growing feelings of contempt towards sasuke, he is brutally relentless in his pursuit of you or, rather, his pursuit of molding you into a proud uchiha who is willing to restore the legacy of his clan with him.

☆ the uchiha boy is a little worried that you lack so many of the values that he himself has been taught by his parents and itachi. you don't know much about the sharingan nor the clan's signature great fireball technique. so he starts there.

☆ let's be honest though: you're not interested in being lectured on the history of the clan by sasuke, but you're not entirely opposed to learning a new jutsu so you allow him to train you for now. whenever you mess up or ask too many questions, he'll sigh in very clear annoyance but bites back any insult as a mercy to you.

☆ you notice how much more patient he is towards you. how he quietly praises you when your little flame grows, how he immediately checks on you when you're winded from using too much chakra. there's a general closeness that never existed before (sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, physically guiding your hands into signs, or poking your forehead when you say or do something he thinks is dumb). it's all strangely... intimate.

☆ the frequency of his visits begin to increase as the days go by, and there were a few times where you would wake up in the middle of the night to see him standing over you. obviously, this scares you, and you have to keep sasuke's sudden intrusions into your bedroom a secret from your mother, so you begrudgingly agree to his strict schedule of meeting at his apartment at least four times a week instead of him breaking into yours.

☆ in the following months, you see a side of sasuke that you're sure no one else has seen. one that isn't carefree, but deeply emotional and reactive, especially when it comes to you. soon enough, he reveals his plan of revenge against itachi to you. you're shocked that he would go to such a length, and the sentiment is not shared by you at all.

☆ before sasuke leaves the village, he of course tries to convince you to come with him. you aren't a fool, though. despite settling into your uchiha heritage at this point, you're no destined avenger. you followed along with sasuke's strange intrusion into your life thus far, but this is where you draw the line. you refuse.

☆ "no? what the hell, [name]? you're an uchiha." he'll spit heatedly, arresting you by the hand when you turn to walk away from him. "your duty now is to kill itachi and restore our clan. don't think for a second that you can just run away from this. from me."

☆ and... he's right. one way or another, you find yourself a traitor to konoha for the sake of the blood that binds you to sasuke. what happened to his family, he won't let happen to you. this time, he's the one who'll kill to protect the one he loves, even if you hate him for doing it against your will.

[kalkori]

starts punching the wall. starts punching the wall. starts punching the wall. starts punching the wall. starts punching the wall.

people seem to like it when i yell at the void analysing video games [see: me still getting notifications on my fleshcousin post going "YOU. YOU GET IT"] so um.

HEAVY SPOILER WARNING FOR GREAT GOD GROVE & INSCRYPTION

i have always hated how people tend to flatten p03 into the evilest guy on earth but unable to articulate for the normal person just WHY i hate it. But great god grove gives me the full ability to explain it to the normal person:

p03 is inspekta, at their core. except, they never had any support.

lets think about some p03 traits that are... overlooked.

for example, can we talk about the fact that p03's minions are the only ones actually DEVOTED to them?

like, grimora and leshy's minions are mostly neutral about them. magnificus's... um... tower companions don't really have a choice.

But P03's?

they could just... leave. any time. whenever. but they dont. in fact, they are willing to sacrifice themself for p03 when they really don't need to.

reminds me Of A Certain Person's Little Busy Boys. and you can TRY to make an argument that inspekta doesn't actually care for them but occam's razor. they like their boys

this next bit is more well known, but there are more hints that p03 is sort of putting up a facade.

in the uberbots, they all each reflect the parts of a scrybe p03 has distaste for.

G0lly represents themself, and instead of it being the grand "wow this uberbot is awesome," it is the one played up THE MOST and the one p03 hates THE MOST

and it is... cute. nice. trusting.

the part p03 hates about themself... is the part that isn't cynical, has not been broken down by the miserable existence in the floppy disk, that is always desperately reaching out.

i would actually argue that p03 is more innocent than inspekta.

because p03 does not know what the old_data is until they're in too deep, or, they never get to know at all.

see, theres a secret with the bone lord in act 3 where are the end luke AND P03 learn the true nature of the old_data

and p03...

only has that to say.

p03's plan was to NEVER spread this evil, and hell, they didn't even destroy anyone. they explicitly keep them around, and those turned into cards don't even get their whole memory erased (cough cough) LESHY (cough cough)

in the end inspekta and p03 had the same goal: to be remembered, to be the only one, and most importantly, to be loved.

so why did inspekta get a happy ending, while p03... well... "wins", but in the worse case scenario?

it's simple. the gods cared about eachother, the scrybes didn't.

"grimora-" grimora committed murder suicide and went "its for the best" without asking anyone.

Magnificus.

leshy could not care less about the scrybes, if erasing their memory and casually throwing away the bodies says anything.

inspekta, on the other hand, had all of their god buddies essentially screaming at them "WE LOVE YOU." because they could see past inspekta's facade, and see the real inspekta, see hector.

none of the scrybes could see past the acts the other put up.

in conclusion/tl;dr: the power of love and friendship could have changed the ending to inscryption and i am not joking

[mj-iza-writer]

Note on the story. I called these lab rats lab babies because they were raised in the lab, and are a little better cared for than rats.

Happy Thanksgiving to those celebrating. If you are not celebrating for whatever reason that you have a great day. -MJ

"D-do we get special food today sir?", Whumpee eagerly followed Whumper down the hall to Test Room 2.

"Hmm.. special food? What are you implying my dear?", Whumper looked over their shoulder to see Whumpee, "why would you get special food? I'm not testing anything with your diets right now."

"Oh, uhm... you told us about this thing where tables of food are set out. All you have to say is something you are thankful for and you get a lot of food", Whumpee eagerly walked in front of Whumper causing them to stop walking, "we were wondering if we could or maybe would have something like that. The past doctors never told us about this, though they never really talked to us anyways. You are the only one who has told us about stuff on the outside. We've never seen the outside world."

"Yes, all of you were born here in the lab.... I should say made here in the lab. The other doctors thought it would be best for you all to not know what you were missing. Plus, they didn't care to have a relationship with all of you", Whumper stepped forward, "come along, we have plenty of test to conduct, and little time to do so."

"Why did you tell us about the outside world then?", Whumpee followed.

"Why are you full of questions today?", Whumper frowned as they opened the door.

"I don't know. You say yourself a questioning mind is never bored. You haven't said no about the special food", Whumpee grinned.

"I haven't exactly said yes either my dear", Whumper grinned, "undress and climb on my table please."

Whumpee nodded and started to disrobe.

"I told all of you stories about the outside world so you can know and dream about what it looks like. Though Max thought the sky was purple until I took them outside to see that it was in fact blue", Whumper pulled out a step for Whumpee.

"Max went outside?", Whumpee looked up curiously.

"Yes, we had gotten into an argument about the sky. Max got the best of me, and I dragged them outside to prove it", Whumper sighed, "though looking back, that was probably a ploy to go outside. You were raised by scientists, so you are all quite smart."

Whumper reached into his pocket and pulled out a bag of crackers. They took one out for themself, then offered the bag for Whumpee to take one.

Whumpee happily munched on the treat as Whumper started to their test.

Whumpee eagerly sat at the front of their cell. They looked up with sad puppy eyes as scientists and nurses walked past.

"Give it up Whumpee, it isn't going to happen', someone looked at them, "you look like a pitiful dog begging for scraps."

"He didn't say no though. I've been dreaming about this since Doctor told us about it", Whumpee watched as another nurse walked past.

"I've been hoping that we could try that uhm... something -mas. That would be really cool", Pipsqueak, the youngest of the lab babies spoke up, "I would love to have a toy like one of the ones I colored in the book Doctor gave me."

"I think you mean Christmas", Max spoke up.

Whumpee nodded.

The lights dimmed slightly, a sign that a new part of the day was starting.

Whumpee sighed and slipped back against the wall. Everyone who worked there was set to go to dinner. It would be a while before someone would walk past again.

"See, I told you. They will just come by later with our meal trays. All of which will contain our specific diet regimes", they looked at Whumpee sadly, "in the end, we are only property. You got yourself excited for nothing, and even a few of us got our hopes up because of you."

Whumpee looked down, "I just wanted to know what it was like.... to be... a.. normal person", they looked up awkwardly when the door opened.

"What's going on in here?", someone came into the hall where the lab babies were kept.

"Nothing sir.... just talking", Max spoke up when everyone else kept quiet.

"Oh?", Whumper turned to look over them all, "you know there is a pretty cool party happening a few rooms over. All the scientists, nurses, and doctors are there. Even maintenance, housekeeping, and, of course, the kitchen staff are there. We realized, though. An important group is missing from the party", Whumper leaned against the wall close to the button to release all of the lab babies at once, "I suppose it wouldn't be a real family meal without our babies present. Would any of you like to come join us for Thanksgiving?"

Everyone's hand shout out of the bars of their cells.

"I thought so", Whumper chuckled and reached to press the button.

"I want you all to follow me to the room. Once there, you will get with your respective nurse, who will help you get your food together. That way, your allergies and dietary needs are met", Whumper sighed.

Whumpee excitedly skipped to Whumper.

"Yes I will help you get your tray since you don't technically have a nurse right now", Whumper grinned.

"I knew you were doing something", Whumpee looked at them excitedly.

"Did you now?", Whumper chuckled, "I did say you were all smart. Come on now get into line."

The babies got into a single file line and looked up at Whumper.

"Very good. Come on, let's get some food", Whumper grinned.

Inside of the cafeteria, everyone went to their nurse and started to look at all of the food options.

Whumper carried a new tray to Whumpee.

"Do you see anything you like?", Whumper watched as Whumpee looked over the table.

"Everything", Whumpee whispered, "I've never seen so much food", Whumpee looked up, "Is this when we say what we are thankful for?", Whumpee looked at everyone's trays.

"You can if you like", Whumper smiled, "you can't have any of the cranberry sauce, it will have a negative effect on your medication. That's your only limitation, everything else is fair game."

"I'm thankful that you are in charge of the lab now. We've never had a doctor that cares about us like you do", Whumpee looked at Whumper with innocent eyes.

"Even when my tests hurt?", Whumper started to scoop out some food.

"Yes, some the tests hurt, but that is what we are here for. In the end, we know you care, even if it's a little", Whumpee smiled.

Whumper scooped a spoonful of everything Whumpee had pointed at. Their tray was heaping when they finally sat down.

"Now, do not feel like you need to eat all of this", Whumper looked over the group, "this is your first time deciding on what you want to eat, and I think all of you went a little overboard. Especially you Pipsqueak. That is a lot of potatoes. Just eat what you can."

All of the babies looked at each other's trays.

"Do we get to eat dessert too?", Max smirked.

"Let's see how you all do with dinner first. Then we can talk about dessert", Whumper chuckled.

Whumper checked in on the babies.

Everyone had fallen back from their trays and was laying on the floor.

"My what's happened here?", Whumper chuckled.

"So much food", Pipsqueak groaned.

"You were right. We over did it", Whumpee looked up sadly, "I can't eat another bite."

"Well, it was easy to see you guys overfilled your trays. I told everyone to let you do it though. I wanted all of you to enjoy your Thanksgiving dinner. The best way to do that was to be like everyone else and overindulge. We will serve dessert tomorrow for one of your treats so you won't miss out."

Everyone nodded, "thankyou Doctor", they said in unison.

The lab babies watched and listened as everyone gathered together and talked amongst their meals.

Whumper even pulled out a few games and toys for the group to play with. The nurses and scientists joined in with the activities.

Whumper led everyone back to their cell rooms.

The nurses helped get the overfilled lab babies ready for bed.

Whumper sat down next to Whumpee's bed and played with their hair for a few minutes.

"Did you enjoy your first Thanksgiving?"

Whumper's eyes gleamed happily as Whumpee nodded.

"How about the rest of you? Did we enjoy Thanksgiving?", Whumper called to the rest.

"Yes", everyone spoke in unison.

"I am so full", Pipsqueak peaked into Whumpee's cell then followed their nurse to their own cell.

"I'm glad everyone enjoyed", Whumper stood, "tomorrow is a day off for all of you, so you all get to relax. Sound like a fair deal?"

"Thankyou", Max called from their bed, "I don't know if I'd be able to move tomorrow."

"Well, goodnight to all of you", Whumper closed Whumpee's bars, "we will see all of you in the morning."

"I'm so happy we got to experience that", Whumpee whispered loudly after the door closed, "I'm so full, but that was amazing."

"It feels strange to be allowed to do this stuff. All of our lives have been in the dark. Having experiences like this feels so wrong", someone could be heard shuffling around their cell, "is this what it feels like to be a real human?"

"I don't know. I can imagine something like this wouldn't make some as excited as it has made us", Max spoke, "maybe it's just another day for some. I'm sure others didn't have a good day today and I'm sorry for them."

"I would love to have more potatoes tomorrow", Pipsqueak giggled.

"Doctor gave us a day off tomorrow even", Whumpee remembered, "I hope this doctor never leaves us. I don't know if we'd be lucky to get another doctor like him."

Everyone sighed happily.

"Well goodnight", Max rolled over to face the wall.

"Goodnight", everyone repeated.

Pipsqueak started to giggle.

"What's so funny Pipsqueak?", Whumpee whispered.

"I wonder if that means we will get to have Christmas", Pipsqueak whispered.

"Both of you go to bed", someone warned.

"Sorry", Pipsqueak and Whumpee giggled again, "Goodnight."

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all.

@villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived

@sacredwrath @porschethemermaid

@monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz

@bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13

@notpeppermint @cyborg0109

@idontreallyexistyet @painfulplots

@whumpbump @everythingsscary

@skittles-the-whumpee @expressionless-fr

@theforeverdyingperson @legendarydelusiongoatee

@candleshopmenace @whumpanthems

@lavndvrr @ivymyers

@starfields08000 @a-living-canvas

@lumpofsand @watermeezer

@indigoviolet311 @whumpy-mountains

@3-2-whump @risk606

@electrons2006 @paperprinxe

@whumprince @kaz-of-crows

@mis-graves @decaffeinatedtimetraveler94

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@blackbirdsinatrenchcoat @mylifeisonthebookshelf

@thenormalestever @whatwhump

@galatic-worm @starmoon-constellation

[chokisnumber1fan]

reblogging this at 2 am so my thoughts are SUPER incoherent and very offtopic and tangential, sorry about that </3

this is such a good analysis of nagi's possible backstory! and while i haven't read past the BM v MC match yet, to me this gives a lot more depth to the relationship that nagi and reo have. i might be delusional since nagi is one of my favourites and also since i don't know much about the later chapters other than a really vague direction but i think this serves as a good reminder that neither nagi nor reo are inherently 'bad' or take up an antagonistic role— they are just two boys that got too codependent and need some space away from each other to develop on their own.

i see a lot of people jump to antagonising either nagi or reo, or judge their duo as a good/bad one, but imo it's more important to view them from a more neutral lens since this isn't just about football or just about their personal lives outside of it— we can see just how much their 'personal' affects their 'field relationship' and vice versa.

from here on out i'm probably straying from the main point that OP is trying to make, so you've been warned!!!

also, if we were to assume that nagi is indeed one of the neglected to some extent kids— then i believe that chris and agi could truly have done better with how they handled nagi. it's pretty obvious that nagi is heavily dependent on reo, but instead of cutting reo out entirely they could have trained the two of them together in a way that allows them to still play together but not be completely dependent on the other. but then again i can see why this would be a much harder task to pull off because of their respective goals and their feelings towards each other (more specifically, reo's feelings towards nagi) that would definitely get in the way. like, reo is entirely capable of scoring goals on his own but he chooses not to because his main objective has always been to assist nagi— and because of this, nagi's had everything handed to him on a silver platter by reo. their formation served them well in the initial stages of blue lock but it's falling apart now, in major part because it was mostly an emotionally driven formation, which makes it a lot easier to predict especially if you're someone like isagi who knows them and their relationship.

nagi and reo are somewhat unique in that their struggles are against their own inherent natures and pasts and not because of them lacking in some sort of skill or whatever. nagi doesn't have the drive to do anything unless he has a solid goal that he wants to reach— he just won't bother putting in effort it (just like OP mentioned).

reo is willing to give nagi the attention and validation he needs; and while this was fine in the beginning, you could say he's almost starting to smother nagi now— almost mirroring the relationship reo has with his own parents, ironically enough. it's gotten to the point where reo cannot be trusted as a narrator since he let his feelings distort the words that nagi really said to him at the start of the second selection. he projected his worst fears regarding nagi and made them true in his mind. i think that reo has a problem with idolising and devoting himself to people to the point of detriment, especially to himself.

lord help me i have rambled so much about this, honestly i don't think i'm even making any sense right now. i feel like that deranged connect the dots meme man right now. somehow this all links up and makes sense in my head so i hope my disorganised addition to OPs post will somehow telepathically make sense to anyone else reading this too 🙏🙏🙏👍👍

I have this foreboding feeling that while we are prepared for Sae's and Shidou's backstory, Nagi's backstory is going to sneak from behind and punch us in the gut.

No, I don't think it's going to be straight up depression like Kaiser's, but I do think that it'll hit close to home.

You see, Nagi got Laissez-faire parents which means they never really interfered with his life. Like, these type of parents—as I have read on some websites—will basically set their child free and let them do whatever they want with no or very few rules/restrictions. They will not tell you, "Oh! You should do this!" or "Oh! You shouldn't do this!" They will simply let you figure out your life all by yourself.

I'm not an expert on this and I'm not calling this type of parenting bad in any way. Every child is different with different needs, and I'm sure there are many who grew up in this kinda family and liked this parenting method. However, I do think that Nagi didn't like it that much, and I got two reasons to think this way:

1. "That's nice."

When Reo said that his family constantly meddles in his life, Nagi's immediate reaction was, "That's nice" instead of being surprised or disgruntled. If Nagi really liked his parents NOT meddling in his life, then he should've said something like, "Really!? Sucks to be you, Reo. I can't imagine living a life like that!"

You getting me?

Also, we all know how Nagi is—he definitely feels that telling someone to do or not to do something is a hassle, so he, probably, feels that if someone is doing all this for you, then you are important for them.

And before any one says, no, I don't think Nagi was tying up his tongue thinking, "They are his parents. They wouldn't want anything bad for their own child, right? I shouldn't say anything against them and should say good things about them just to be safe." I don't think he has this kind of filter in him.

2. "Don't die ."

So, why would you not want someone to die? Of course, because you care for them and want them to be with you.

"Want"

That's really what I'm tryna highlight.

It's a pretty common knowledge that some children are just naturally more independent while others are a bit more dependent and seek guidance from the elders. Considering Nagi's first reaction to knowing about Reo's parents' meddling, I think that Kiddo!Nagi falls into the latter category—someone who likes to be guided and helped by the adults. Now, place Kiddo!Nagi with his Laissez-faire parents... You are getting where I'm going with this one?

That's why I think that Kiddo!Nagi, probably, thought that his parents didn't love him/care for him. And what happens if someone doesn't love you or care for you? Yeah, they don't care if you die which, somewhat, explains why Older!Nagi was happy to hear, "Don't die [before us (probably)]" from his parents.

I have already talked about his potential backstory before too, so it was actually when I heard he had longer bangs as a child that made my head turn to him again—something felt odd.

I understand that having long bangs is not a big deal—Niko's bangs literally cover his eyes, but having it as a kid is way different, y'know. Once you are like 12-13, you somewhat become capable of doing your own hair and clothes by yourself, so you can manage whatever aesthetics you prefer. However, for a kid younger than that, it's the parents' responsibility to look after his/her hair and clothes, and we all know that long bangs are quite bothersome—blocks our vision, sometimes stabs the eyes, and even irritatingly itches the nose.

All in all, till his backstory drops, I'd firmly believe that he was, though unintentionally, a neglected kid—at least, emotionally.

Now I can't get this image out of my head where Kiddo!Nagi is longingly staring at other kids in a park where everyone is learning things like riding a bicycle or maybe playing baseball and stuff with their parents while he is just.. there, probably, all alone.

[jinxposting]

Jason Todd x Jinx! reader Chapter 4

Different

The next time you saw Robin was while you, Joker, and Harley were robbing Gotham City Bank.

These were your least favorite kinds of missions. Banks had a certain time limit for their silent alarms, which means limited fanfare. Limited fun. Boring. Thank god the Bat showed up, otherwise today would've been a total snooze fest.

You fiddled with a grenade in the back seat of Joker's convertible. He swerved through the streets haphazardly, Harley shooting behind you at the batmobile. You glanced back but couldn't catch a glimpse of bat nor bird through the tinted windshield. You tossed the grenade over your shoulder. The blast sounded behind you, but the armored vehicle never let up it's relentless pursuit.

A grappling hook shot out from the front of the batmobile. It pierced a tire, Joker's car skidding to an abrupt stop. Once the ground stopped moving you readied yourself to sprint. Before you could however a hand grabbed you by the shoulder. You swung your elbow back with force. The assailant dodged, spinning you around in the process.

Robin.

"Hey, Boy Wonder! Fancy meeting you here."

"In a car chase? Pretty standard for you."

The boy froze. You could feel his eyes scanning you head to toe.

"You look... different."

You picked up one of your braids with a twirl. "All natural now, baby!"

"W- How?"

"Took a nice, long chemical bath."

"What? Why did- did Joker-"

"Relax, baby bird. It's family tradition."

"Some family." He grumbled.

Now that struck a nerve.

"At least my family doesn't make me dress up like a weak, little bird."

"Better than actually being weak and little."

You swung a fist. Similar to before, he blocked it. Unlike before, he didn't block the butt of your gun. Robin stumbled backwards with a newly split eyebrow.

"Seriously?!"

"Deadly."

He swept your legs, which you narrowly avoided with a quick jump. In one fell swoop you kicked him in the chest, sending him tumbling to the ground with a grunt. He recovered in time to kick you up and over himself. You rolled to a stop, rising to your feet, fists up and ready for a fight. In the blink of an eye Robin matched your posture.

A punch flew past your head, you weaved out of the way before the second could land. "You shouldn't have taught me how to fight."

The boy smirked. "Didn't teach you everything."

Suddenly your world was turned upside down. Literally. Before you could even process what had happened you were handcuffed and slung over the boy's shoulder.

"Wha-"

"And back to the batmobile we go."

"Put me down!"

"I will. In a restrained chair."

"You dick!"

"Jason actually."

"... Huh?"

"Nothing. Inside joke."

Robin stared at you in silence. Batman was still attempting to track down Joker's route, which left you two sitting silently in the batmobile.

"... You look sick."

"Really? That's your opening line after ten minutes of nothing? You really know how to charm a girl."

"I'm serious. Your skin is pale. And your hair is... well..."

"Green?"

"Yeah."

"It was like that when we met!"

"You know what I mean! You used to be you and now you're just... Joker Jr."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Probably 'cause it is."

"To you maybe."

"Why... How can you be loyal to someone so evil?"

"How can you be loyal to someone so cold?"

He opened his mouth only to close it. "It's a long story."

"Ditto."

Another wave of silence overtook you two. You watched the boy adjust his gloves almost anxiously.

"You think one day we'll be them?"

"Who?"

"Joker and Batman. You think when they're old and retired we'll be the next them?"

"Never thought about it... I hope not."

"How come?"

"I want a rival that can actually rival me."

"Fuck off."

"I mean it. You keep learning to fight - and not just from me - then maybe I'll let you be my Joker."

"Your Jinx."

"My Jinx."

"And you learn how to have some fun and maybe I'll let you be my Batman."

"Isn't your idea of fun blowing up buildings?"

"Yup!"

"Well that's not gonna happen."

"Such a party pooper. You already are Batman."

The boy smiled at this.

"Batman and Jinx."

"Jinx and Batman."

"We'll work on it."