#anyway. this was supposed to be a break from the other comic
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reds-skull · 2 months ago
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I was planning on practicing drawing Soap's face (for the billionth time) and it turned into this silly little comic
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writella · 4 months ago
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Fuckin’ Favorite
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Synopsis: Whose the fairest of them all? It’s you. It’s always been you. Negan’s prepared to let each one of his wives know just that tonight.
— or: Oh Lord, does Negan love his fuckin’ favorite wife!
Details: Negan Smith x fem!reader, smut— fingering, thigh riding, and penetration without protection; reader at the Sanctuary, “wife”!reader, guilty!reader because when am I not feeling guilty for wanting Negan, Negan being rude in one small part, I’m pretty sure I changed the layout of the wives quarters from the show, and a fuck load of ‘fucks’ from Negan. Mostly proofread. wc: 2.2k.
A/N: I mostly get right to it, so buckle up! And if you like this one, check out this daydream I wrote because I think it’s really cute.
—with love from writella ♡
He comes in without a knock.
The door, though brittle as it is, slams shut. The metal and leather of his jacket clink and slap as his back pounds against it. He has no care that he could break the door, or for the noise and late hour of his arrival.
This was his house. His rules.
“Good evenin’, sweetheart.”
If it wasn’t for that slight twang in his accent, or that wiley look that punctuates the end of his sentences, making everything he says just as comical as unsettling, it would have sounded more like a, Hello, Clarice— nonetheless, you still hold your breath.
“It’s half past ten,” you decide to say, looking down, making sure you don’t sound too sarcastic or displeased with his appearance. It’s just that you hated it when he came to your room, especially when all the other girls were right outside in the common room or in their bedrooms that neighbored yours. You much rather go to his room if you have to. It’s quiet and separate from the rest of the habitants of the Sanctuary. He could be as loud as he wanted— even though he always was anyway— but that would mostly be for you— so you didn’t have to feel so ashamed.
“Well would you prefer a Hey, sexy. Strip down. Ass up. then? Just get right to it?” You say nothing. “Cause I could.” Negan tilts his head sideways with a slight grin, his forehead protruding forward as he tries to find your eyes. All he sees is cheeks starting to flush, an embarrassed shake of your head, and eyes that stay stuck on your black ballerina flats.
You were sitting on the rear of your bed, only looking up sometimes. Recently, you were trying to get better with eye contact. You wanted to show that you’re not afraid of him anymore. It was supposed to be a silent statement that he wasn’t fooling you and that you weren’t softening up to him. That you know what this is, who he is; you’re cognizant of what he does to you, to the others girls, to people outside these walls. But, this didn’t work. No matter if you were looking down or up, you could never seem to get rid of that deer in the headlights look— The Roadkill Stare or The Corpse’s Bride as Negan called it— wide and bewildered, like he was going to run you over. Sometimes it made him feel sad. That there were moments where he could see you trying to resist your natural instinct to flinch when he comes near. But other times, it made him feel powerful. Not the fact that he scared you, but that he could see what was underneath it— that you were scared of yourself. He knows you like him. He knows from the way your face slightly twists as you suppress your snickers and smiles at his jokes when you two are alone, or when he makes fun of Simon for yet another one of his bad attempts at acting like him; when you think you’re doing well at maintaining that timid Tim Burton eyed version of a poker face. He knows you’re not completely scared of him, at least not anymore. Little by little, he’s learning to clock the nuances of your expressions: he sees how your eyes trail his body when he undresses in front of you, or the way you follow him as he walks to talk to this person or that, how you’re acutely aware of when and how he moves, your eyes flickering towards his hands before he gestures with them. It’s like you know too. As if you see his underneath the way he can for you. You’re becoming as familiar as he is.
He’s aware.
You can’t fool him any longer.
“Get up for me.” It’s a soft command said in his darkened voice. On instinct, you oblige. This is how it is. He walks closer, his fingertips lightly brushing slowly down your shoulder until he reaches your waist. He grabs you quick and close on both sides, pulling you straight against him. You gasp, arms swinging back slightly, back arching against him as he presses you on his lower abdomen and groin. You can feel his breath, and the heat of his intense gaze. “Kiss me.”
Your mouth is agape. Your breath shudders. You’re frozen.
You do nothing.
There you go again, his little fawn bride. If eyes could be any more rounder, symmetrical spheres, they’re yours. He could laugh but he doesn’t. He only repeats himself. Quietly, sternly, “You kiss me first this time.”
You had never done that before.
“Do I gotta say it a third?”
You shake your head. No.
Hesitantly, you reach up, touching his face with ghostlike fingertips, feeling the bristles of his beard as you bring yourself closer. Your lips are light and tentative as you finally press yours on his. For him, it was like being kissed by an angel. It makes him soften up for a moment, tilt your head up higher for you to give you more leverage. He kisses you just as sweetly. His thumb strokes your jaw.
After a few more kisses, you pull back to look at him. You hold his shoulders and he holds you by your waist. Your faces are so close, his eyes could almost be as wide as yours, and for a moment, it all feels so soft and dream-like. But quickly, the iridescence fades: before you realize it, he puts his tongue in your mouth forcefully, making your head roll back. The unexpected shift makes you gasp into his mouth.
He turns you around, slams you again your door. Your tall bureau near it bangs against the wall with you. Some of your folded clothes you had yet to put away and jewelry falls off the top as your head bounces.
Negan’s left hand runs down your body, sliding two fingers down under your dress and over your panties, pressing in at your slit. He finds wetness forming. His fingers make it more pronounced as he creates a wet spot.
“Tell me you want me,” he says as he starts to rub your clit.
You take a shaky breath inwards, covering a small moan.
Negan’s fingers slide inside your underwear and down right into your hole. He pumps slowly three times, never losing eye contact with you and then he takes them out. “Cause I want you,” and he proves it by putting the two fingers in his mouth and licking them clean, wiping his lips afterwards with his tongue. “Tell me you do too.”
Your breath remains heavy. Finally, you whisper, “I want you.”
He spins you around again. His back against the door once more, producing another slam you know all the girls will hear. He raises one of his legs and slots his thigh in between yours. His hands rest on your hips, rocking you against him. It feels good. Your thin cotton panties and bare thighs brushing and rocking against his that are rough and denim clad. You try to resist the urge to make any sounds because of how much you like it. “Tell me you need me.”
This makes you whine. “Can we—” you start to ask— and you can’t believe you’re even going to say it— “Can we just go to your room? Please?” Oh God, what would everyone at Alexandria think? They’d be so disappointed. They’d hate you. The wives have never been mean, they accepted you, understood your condition more than anyone else, but where you only had very educated guesses of what everyone at home would think of you, you had a stone hard fact of how the other girls were starting to see you. Their eyes could not lie as much as yours: you felt women’s growing glares of silent resentment whenever you were seen with Negan. He was more forgiving with you; never got too nasty about your habit of not speaking when you’re spoke to; he was gentle with his touch when others were watching; never made you hang out with any of the other men if you didn’t want to; and he talked to you, communicated more. They saw it. They knew it. They figured you were more in the know about things outside the Sancutary than they were. You tried to use it to keep them informed as well, as a way to preserve what little favor you had left, but now look at you, ruining it all as they’re forced to listen. Not only submitting to whatever he may do to you, but asking to change the location before it begins.
“No. You get me here or not at all.” You knew he wasn’t lying. His voice was stern. He looked you in the eye even if you weren’t looking back, you felt it. It told you that he wouldn’t budge, not even a little. “And you can sleep in those panties if that’s the case.”
You stay silent for a moment. Eyes peering into his wishing just your look could say it all. “Negan…” you whisper.
“Yes, baby?”
“I- I need you.”
In an instant, Negan pushes you off of him. His hands go to the ends of your dress and pull it off of you with your arms and hair flying.
“Take it off,” he demands after he throws you down on your bed.
You feet kick off your flats and you raise your hips to discard your panties, never losing sight of him as he rips off his jacket, unbuckles his belt, and crosses his arms to get rid of his shirt. You loved the look of his years-faded tattoos against his tan skin and the curves of his light muscles when he raises his arms.
You’re in a trance, not seeing that he sees that you’re doing it again. Bambi eyes trailing him down. It’s every time you guys do this. And fuck, you must think he’s sexy. He loves it. Because he knows he’s fucking sexy. He knows that pretty girls like you will always come around. You just can’t help it. His grin is as wide as your eyes because of it.
Negan is hard and he wastes no time. He’s been thinking about claiming you all day. He hooks his hands under your knees as you lay with your back flat on the bed.
Negan lines himself against you and immediately starts to piston himself inside of you, never completely pulling out. Your breast shake as his thrusts keep pushing you back. You felt like you were vibrating.
He is obsessed with this angle. Getting to see your face scrunch and twist and contort. Getting to hear your heavy pants and sighs. Getting to feel the squeeze of your pussy and he continues to push inside you fast, fast, fast.
And he’s mesmerized by your breast. The continuous bounce of your perky tits that were now his. He wants his mouth on them, he wants his dick between them, but for now he’ll just watch them jump and spring— it’s just as sexy to him. He might even have to cancel all of tomorrow's plans just to watch them fly all day like this.
Your head turns to your left side and you catch yourself in your full length mirror— the view is from head to the top of your waist. You see your left tit bouncing along with your head and stomach as Negan keeps pushing into it with no relent. Instantly you moan at the sight. Your hand swings to your face right after, your eyes closing shut.
Negan rips your fingers from off your mouth. “No,” he warns. “I know you like it—” you whine when he says that— “Stop hiding it. Look at yourself or I’ll stop.”
You don’t open them.
He stops.
“You gonna fuckin’ listen?”
Slowly, you ynclose your scrunched eyes, seeing yourself and your parted lips again.
“Good girl.” And then, Negan starts splitting you open again, making you shake. The sudden movement makes you moan, “oh- uh.”
“Tell me you want it.”
You don’t resist anymore. You continue to look at yourself in the mirror as you say, “I want it.”
“Tell me you need it.”
Your head turns to watch where your body connects with his. “Ohmygod, I need it.”
He growls as he follows your gaze, voice strained and rough like he’s going to punch something as he repeats, thrusting faster, “Tell me you fucking need it.”
“I need it.” Then you moan, “Negan, please!” You chant, “Please. Please, Negan, I need it!”
“You need it, baby?” He jeers. “You want me to give it to ya?”
You nod as you whine, tears almost coming out. Your breasts still bounce for him and you love it as much as you hate it. “Yes, Negan.”
“You know what I came in here to do, baby?”
You’re still whining, you're practically incoherent. His little fuck doll. All you can say is his name.
“Look at me when I tell you.”
Your eyes go up to his. Watching him as he continues to pump into you. You see how his body vigorously shakes in unison with yours. His skin and his pushing up and down, in and out, as he makes your body jump.
“I came in here,” he starts, losing his breath and trying not to falter from his thrusts as his face places itself above yours, “To show every single bitch in the goddamn house that you’re mine. And that you’re the only fuckin’ one.” You respond with only sex-filled sounds. You’re close to exploding. Your body still jumps along with his. Your bouncing breasts rubbing against his pex as he commands, “Tell me you want me to do it. You want me to make you come.”
As always, though this time it was because you were on the verge of losing all control, you give no answer.
His words bite at your parted lips as he repeats, “Tell me!” And he slaps the side of your ass.
The pang forces you to speak: “I want you to do it Negan please!”
Negan rises. His mouth circles as he moans. He holds your hips now, raising them off the bed as he pumps into your harder. “Say it again.”
“Do it, Negan, please. Please make me come.” With each word ending in moaning pants as you repeats, “Please- Please- Please- Please- Please-”
“Oh fuck,” his gutteral voice rasps and roars for all to hear. Your absolute submission brings him closer to the edge. He smiles widely knowing he’s about to come so hard in that tiny pussy of yours. “OH FUCKIN LORD,” he laughs, knowing he has the whole floor’s attention, not caring a single bit how any of it sounds. “GOD DAMN. THAT’S FUCKIN RIGHT. IM GONNA MAKE MY PRETTY LITTLE FUCKIN WIFE FUCKIN COME BECAUSE SHE’S- MY FUCKIN’- FAVORITE.”
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neckromantics · 1 year ago
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You find that now Astarion’s able to feed regularly on “quality” blood, the stronger he becomes, and with that strength comes certain abilities he didn’t know he could possess.
In 5e, vampire spawn are supposed to be pretty strong and fast. (As well as possessing regenerative powers, and spider climb among a few other things.) So, what if Astarion’s lack of super strength and other such things is due to the way he was kept weakened under Cazador’s control?
Like maybe he’s recently fed and he feels especially great this time. Neither of you really think much of it. (You’re just happy he feels good. Happy to see the flush of pink at the tips of his ears and apples of his cheeks.) Maybe you’re in the middle of a fight and you get careless. You hear the swish of a blade at your back, but never feel an impact. You turn to see that Astarion’s saved your ass the only way vampire instinct knew how in that moment, which was to just reach out and grab your attacker’s sword before it could spill any of your precious blood. By the blade.
If he wasn’t wearing those special armored gloves you’d found a few days before he’d probably have lost a few fingers. The steel bends back in his grip as if it’s made of rubber, and there’s a very comical split second where your heads snap toward one another to share matching looks of “what the fuck??” Before the fighting continues.
MAYBE one day you watch the guy get stabbed. Like, impaled in a way that should have meant Withers is about to be dragged out here by his dusty ass robes to perform some quick resurrecting or else. It takes longer than you’d like to get free enough to make a break for him, but when you do you nearly knock poor Shadowheart on her ass in your hurry to pass. Every millisecond feels like an hour. Your heart pounds in your ears so loudly that you can’t hear the scream of the creature before him as you take it down with a single blow.
In hindsight, you must have looked ridiculous. Overdramatic, even, considering you don’t have time to fuss over him as he lie bleeding like you assumed he would be. Your hands tremble in front of you as you watch him stand up from his crouched position. His pretty face is screwed up in a way that you first assumed meant great pain, but now you realize he’s just ? Surprised? Well, that makes two of you at least.
Astarion’s leather armor hits the dirt with a dull thud. With pursed lips and a bit of a hum, he’s lifting up the hem of his bloodied tunic. Pale fingers swipe thick crimson away from his belly to reveal the soft, unmarred skin that lay beneath. You nearly faint right then and there, and that asshole just laughs. Positively elated.
After a moment, a long moment, you start to laugh alongside him. It’s shaky with relief. Disbelief.
He plants a quick, cheeky kiss to the side of your head for your heroic efforts, anyway. You just learn to roll with it.
Maybe one day you walk into your room at the Elfsong, and nearly jump out of your skin when you find him sitting cross-legged on the ceiling. Just full on chilling, looking pleased as punch to have found something else he didn’t know was possible for him. You obviously just stand there and stare at him like ??? for a while. It’s endearing how happy he looks with that smug little smirk, pale curls wild and clothes sitting odd on his frame from the change in gravity.
When you ask, all he can really say is that it just kind of happened? That he very suddenly felt like being up, and logically that meant he should try crawling up the wall to satisfy that craving. He’d been up there for a couple hours before you showed up- even took a little bit of a rest to pass the time. You wish you were there to see his face when he found out- to hear the mad little giggles that spilled from his lips when he stood up from his scuttling and just hung upside down in disbelief because why in the hells didn’t he find out about this one sooner?
(Maybe if you ask nicely, he’ll bring you up there with him on his back just so you can see how strange everything looks from high up on the ceiling. Maybe you’ll use it as an opportunity to scare the ((figurative)) pants off of Gale when he eventually comes looking for you. Endless entertainment.)
Anyway, you feed the guy regular enough and I imagine there is so much to discover about him that the two of you will be entertained for years to come. Who knows, maybe one day you’ll wake up to a fluffy white bat flying circles around the ceiling of your bedroom, and at that point it won’t even be a real surprise to you.
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wannaeatramyeon · 9 months ago
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Seongji Yuk x Reader: Treats
G/N. Meeting Seongji for the first time.
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"Your teeth are gonna fall out."
The monster of the mountain looks at you, face blank though eyes amused, tanghulu hanging from his mouth.
You've seen him enough times to know there's not much monstrous about him, apart from his overwhelming sweet tooth.
Rumours of this monster were grossly exaggerated.
Maybe you should have had more self preservation than to wander the mountainside when such tales persist. Yet when you found out the monster was a mere man, a mere boy close to your age, who seemed to have a penchant for sugary, syrup covered fruit-
You realised the only thing to fear was cavities and tooth decay.
Still. It helps to have someone with such a reputation on your side, you decide, as you toss over a pack of fruit gummies.
A hand shoots out and swiftly catches it.
(Six. You swore you saw six fingers on that hand.)
"Thought you might like these," you shrug as he gives you an odd look, "See ya!"
.
.
After the fifth pack of candies you threw at him, the guilt sets in.
You make your way through now familiar half hidden paths, searching for the monster.
He's there. Sitting in front of his giant wok, surrounded by freshly made tanghulu. Scents of sugar and caramel fill the air.
"You're here again," The words are spoken so quietly you almost missed them. His voice is softer than you expected.
"I bought you more things," you hold out a small plastic bag. He gives you the same look each time. 
"Open it," you encourage, shoving it more forcefully in his direction.
With little trust - which is somewhat unfair, you think, considering all the treats he has received from you - he takes the bag.
(Six. You know you saw six fingers on that hand.)
He opens it, peers in, face clouded with caution. Then-
Eyebrows shooting into his hairline, eyes widening almost comically, mouth forming an 'o'-
The tension breaks and he chuckles.
"It's one thing if all the tanghulu you eat rots your teeth, that's your own fault," You rub the back of your head self-consciously as he pulls out more fruit candies, as well as a new toothbrush, toothpaste, floss, mouthwash one after the other. "But if it's because of me then..."
"You're strange," he says, staring at you like you're a puzzle he can't quite figure out.
His words have no bite.
.
.
"Seongji Yuk," he eventually provides his name with reluctance. In exchange, you provide the rest of the banchan and rice to accompany his homemade kimchi.
(Your single braincell stopped functioning the first time you realised he does in fact eat something besides sugar.
It's endearing, this supposed 'monster' making his own tanghulu, making his own kimchi.
You kept comparing his recipe with your own before eventually he asked you to leave out of exasperation.)
"Well Seongji, your kimchi needs more saeujeot," It's not bad, it's just missing something.
"You don't have to eat it," he grumbles, swallowing down an extra big mouthful.
.
.
"So..."  You stall, elongating the word, letting it drift into the night. You don't really know Seongji well, hell you don't know him at all. Maybe it would be intrusive to ask.
You hear a rustling beside you. "So what?"
"So… you live on this mountain?"
"I do."
"Huh." You gaze out at the stars. It's a pretty peaceful existence, or it would be if not for Cheonliang. "On your own?"
"Yes."
"Do you ever get lonely?"
A beat. Then - "No."
Oh.
You turn to him and see his face blank but eyes amused. Messy hair and high cheekbones highlighted by the fire.
"Well I can visit you if I get lonely then."
There's a huff of laughter. Seongji knows he can't stop you anyway. He turns back toward the vast inky sky. Takes in the scattered stars. Feels the heat from the flames, a heat that settles into his cheeks.
A smile dances on his lips when he tells you "Okay."
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cherrrydragon · 6 months ago
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➤ find something worth saving (it's all for the taking)
CHAPTER SIX: MAKE OUT FAKE OUT
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SUMMARY ↳ An unlikely ally appears! “I know you’re Spinnerette.” . . . What. The. Fuck. pairing: jon kent x gn!reader x damian wayne warnings: (the non-existent) threat of blackmail wc: 4.4k
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Victoria’s been acting weird. You suppose it’s normal given the events from last week. Since then, multiple articles have come forth speaking of Robin and Spinnerette saving the day. The people of Gotham seem to be taking to their new arachnid friend well.
But back to Victoria—she struggles to maintain eye contact with you for more than a few seconds. It doesn’t stop her from being a stern teacher though, so you guess nothing other than that has changed. Whatever, you have better things to worry about.
Progress has been… progressing with the badassium. You’ve begun assembling the makeshift particle accelerator, but Karen estimates that you’ve only built three percent. And it took you that long. Have mercy.
You’re currently in the Den, looking over your creation.. The walls are lined with various tools and blueprints, and the centerpiece is the skeleton of the particle accelerator. You sigh, wiping sweat off your brow. This is going to take longer than you thought.
Karen’s voice chirps in your ear. “Perhaps taking a break would help clear your mind, [Name].”
You glance at the clock. It’s already past midnight. Maybe she’s right. “Yeah, I guess so.. Let’s call it a night.”
Robin meets you on the rooftop you’ve perched yourself on. He crouches next you, watching the streets below. Robin’s eyes follow the movement below with a practiced vigilance, his dark cape fluttering slightly in the breeze. The city's nightscape is a blend of lights and shadows, with the occasional sound of sirens breaking the relative silence. He glances at you, his expression giving nothing away.
“Long day?” you ask, breaking the silence.
“You ask, why?”
You groan, stretching out your stiff muscles. Robin tracks the movement. “Surely you wouldn’t come hang out with me just because you felt like it. I doubt one night of ass-kickin’ makes us friends.”
“This is not ‘hanging out’,” he grumbles, making you nod your hand in a ‘you’re proving my point’ fashion. “I am simply taking a short recess, you happen to be in my resting spot.”
“Yeah, uhuh.” You don’t believe him for a second, but you can’t bring yourself to really care.
“Batman wants you on the team.”
You damn near fall off the rooftop. “What.”
“Perhaps you are older than I thought, if your hearing isn’t on par,” he smirks.
“First of all, my hearing is way better than yours, fuck you,” you quip, quickly righting yourself. “Second of all…” you hesitate, “can we take a raincheck on that?”
Robin looks at you. “I… am busy right now. And do not have time for a team… yeah. Also, I just prefer to be alone.” The words come out choppy, as if you’re coming up with them on the fly (you are). That last part is a straight lie, you love your Avengers.
You know Robin obviously is skeptical, but he says nothing. “Why does Batman want me, anyway?”
Robin shifts slightly, his expression unreadable behind the mask. “You share the same goals we do. It only makes sense to join forces.”
Robin's words hang in the air, punctuated by the distant sounds of the city below. You shift uncomfortably, trying to process the unexpected offer. Joining Batman's team? The idea both excites and intimidates you. You've always admired the vigilantes of Gotham from afar, but becoming a part of that world was another matter entirely.
You don’t belong here. It was different when you were asked to officially join the Avengers, but fictional comic characters turned real? Your mind wants to melt. You don’t want to drag them into your mess.
“I really do appreciate the offer, but…” you sigh, and lean back. “...not right now.” And probably never. You clear your throat and stand up, Robin following. “Well, it’s been awkward. See you!” you rush out, quickly swinging away. Robin eyes you until you swing out of sight, thinking.
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“They denied.”
Bruce sips his tea, humming. “Did they say why?”
Damian comes to sit next to his father. “Their reasoning was that they were ‘too busy for a team’ and preferred to be alone. It was very obvious they were hiding something, father.”
Bruce sighs, putting down his cup. “We’ll keep trying to convince them, slowly,” Bruce adds as he sees Damian moving to get up. “Stay cautious, but also stay amiable, Damian.”
Damian scoffs. “I am amiable.”
Bruce chuckles as Damian leaves.
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Ms. Varley announces a project at the end of class the next morning.. The class groans loudly, of course. “It should be fun for you young folks,” she emphasizes, like it disgusts her. “It is a partner project,” the class lights up for a second, “with your tablemate.” You swear you see a glint of satisfaction in her eye as the class slumps. You and Damian look at eachother. “Together you will explore unconventional perspectives on any known superhero or vigilante of your choosing.”
The projector shows a powerpoint labeled “Hot Takes”. A few snorts are heard. “I want you to to challenge yourselves boldly,” Ms. Varley states, walking around to pass out the rubric. “You’ll select a figure that intrigues you and craft a thesis that challenges the traditional view. Support it with thorough research and present your findings in a persuasive manner."
“It’s not about being right or wrong, it’s about being able to defend your point.” Ms. Varley takes her place in front of the classroom. “This is your final project. From now until winter break, we will be spending our Fridays working on it. Only Fridays, so I suggest working on it with your partner outside of school.”
She sits down in her chair, signaling that she’s done talking for today. Buzz fills the classroom immediately, peers chattering and making plans. You scoot your chair closer to Damian. “I know what I want to do,” you declare.
“As do I,” says Damian, facing you.
“My take is better,” you challenge, crossing your arms.
Damian scoffs. “I sincerely doubt you are capable of coming up with something adequate to the challenge.”
“Don’t be a hater Damian, it makes you look jealous,” you tease.. The bell rings, filling the class with sounds of hustle and bustle as students pack up. “Oh! Before you go,” you say, grabbing Damian’s wrist. You hold out your phone. “Number?”
Damian looks at your phone in confusion. You huff. “Your phone number, Dames. So we can contact each other and plan our project?” you clarify in a ‘duh’ tone.
You watch as he stares for a moment, before taking your phone and putting in his contact info. “You will come home to the manor with me,” he declares.
You blink. “Huh?”
“We will start working on it today,” he elaborates, handing you back your phone. You fumble with it for a second before shoving it in your pocket. “The faster we get it done the better.”
“Um, ok. Yeah, makes sense,” you gulp.
This time you’re the one distracted in ballet. Victoria huffs and snaps at you multiple times, so you figure she must be back to normal. Art class proceeds as norma, Ms. M making you practice your color theory. You hold back on designing new iterations of your suit, something you did a lot of back home out of sheer boredom.
Damian guides you out of the school with a hand on your back, like he did at homecoming. You wonder what exactly he is doing, since you know he feels the eyes and points at the two of you from other students. You sigh, hopefully nobody bothers you about it.
Alfred greets you at the gates, this time you make sure to actually get his name officially. Damian gets in the car first, pulling you in by the hand. Your shoulder bumps into his as you land with an ‘oof’. The ride to the manor is silent, leaving you twiddling with your thumbs. Thankfully, the ride isn’t too long.
The manor looks imposing, standing here looking at it. It’s different from seeing it from WEBBERs point of view or from an inked page. Damian grabs your arm, snapping you out of your daydreaming. He leads you through the grand halls of the mansion, his steps confident and purposeful. The interior is as opulent as you imagined, with rich furnishings and tasteful decor that speak of wealth and history.
"Your family's home is... impressive," you remark, trying to break the silence as you’re dragged along.
Damian nods curtly, saying nothing. You sense there's more to his demeanor than just his usual aloofness.
He leads you to a spacious study lined with shelves of books and a large, fancy desk at its center. Papers are neatly organized, and a computer hums softly in one corner. Damian gestures for you to take a seat. You do, placing your bag down beside your chair. Damian sits next to you.
You take out your laptop and open a new powerpoint. “My idea was that we do it on Batman,” you state, turning to Damian. “I think Batman is part of a cycle of violence. I think that he does help and protect people, but he also enables a lot of the behavior from criminals.” You stand up and begin to pace the room.
“He inadvertently contributes to a culture that normalizes violence as a means to solve problems. I mean, all of his criminals eventually break out of arkham. Scarecrow literally attacked our school a while ago! Criminals respond to Batman’s intervention with heightened aggression and increasingly dangerous tactics, which results in a cycle where each side justifies escalating their actions in response to perceived threats.”
You pause, stopping your pacing. Damian is staring at you. You cough. “That’s all to say, violence begets violence, hurt people hurt people, yadda yadda,” you grin sheepishly.
Damian nods intently. He leans back in his chair, tapping his fingers thoughtfully on the armrest. After a moment of silence, he speaks, his voice calm yet decisive.
"Your perspective is not entirely without merit," Damian begins, his tone measured. "Batman's methods have indeed perpetuated a cycle of violence in Gotham. His reliance on fear tactics and physical force against criminals often leads to heightened retaliation and more extreme measures from his adversaries."
He shifts in his seat, eyes narrowing slightly. "However," Damian continues, "one must consider the broader context. Gotham City is a cesspool of corruption and crime, where conventional methods of law enforcement have repeatedly failed. Batman's presence, while controversial, fills a void where the justice system falls short."
Damian stands up abruptly, pacing the room with a controlled energy. "His actions, while extreme, have prevented countless tragedies and protected innocent lives. The criminals he faces are not ordinary. They are deranged, relentless, and would wreak havoc unchecked if not for his intervention."
He stops in front of the window, gazing out at the expansive grounds of Wayne Manor. "Batman's commitment to justice is unwavering. He sacrifices his own safety and personal life to ensure that Gotham's citizens have a fighting chance against the darkness that plagues our city."
Damian turns back to you, his demeanor earnest. "Our challenge will be to present a balanced argument," he concludes, returning to his seat. "Acknowledging the complexities of Batman's methods while critiquing their consequences. We must delve deep into both sides of the debate to craft a compelling thesis."
You nod, absorbing Damian's perspective. You’re impressed, but yeesh. He could’ve been more subtle, in your humble opinion.
“I’m impressed,” comes a voice from the doorway. You and Damian turn around to see–
Bruce Wayne. You sigh deeply inside your mind.
“Father,” says Damian, looking a bit lost. “How long…?”
“Since your friend started speaking. I apologize, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I only meant to introduce myself when I heard your compelling argument, I didn’t want to interrupt,” he says, looking awfully apologetic. Of course, Batman himself heard all that.
He turns to you and sticks out his hand. “Bruce Wayne, Damian’s father.” You shake his hand humming in affirmation.
“Nice to meet you, sir,” you smile. Alfred comes in with some snacks and refreshments, placing them down on the table. You and Damian thank him, seemingly on autopilot. Bruce smiles at Damian.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” he says, and then he’s out the door.
You rub your palms on your pants. “Welp,” you hum, sitting back down and pouring yourself a cup of tea. “I think he likes me.” You pour a cup for Damian and pass it to him. He sits back down as well, accepting the cup.
“I think he does, as well,” mutters Damian, sipping his tea.
The rest of the evening is spent refining your argument and laying out the skeleton on your powerpoint. Despite Damian's initial reservation about your abilities, you find that you complement each other well in terms of ideas and research methods. You check the time, it’s a little past nine.
“I should get going, I don’t wanna leave Nari alone for too long,” you say, beginning to gather your belongings. Damian raises a brow. “My cat,” you clarify.
Damian's eyes brighten very subtly. You know what he’s thinking, so you show him the picture you took of Jon holding Nari. “He’s cute, right?”
Damian analyzes your picture like it’s an art. He nods in approval. “You shall have to bring him over to meet Alfred.”
“The.. butler?” you question, as if you don’t know better.
“The cat.”
Damian walks you out of the manor where you find Bruce. His eyes spot you two approaching and nods in acknowledgement. “Alfred is already waiting outside for you,” he tells you. You nod and step outside, feeling the cool air hit you. You thank Alfred as he opens the door for you, stepping inside. Damian and Bruce are standing together on the porch. Bruce is telling Damian something, but he is only looking at you.
You send him a hesitant smile, and he nods at you.
Bruce watches the car drive off. “Still suspicious?” he asks.
“Nothing of note has happened,” Damian begrudgingly tells him. Bruce warmly chuckles.
“Well,” he starts, looking at Damian. “I like them.”
Damian narrows his eyes. “I do not like what you are insinuating.” Bruce shrugs innocently, stepping back inside the manor. Damian stands in the cool air for a moment, before following him inside. 
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The dance instructor has a headache, so she says that you all can do whatever you’d like, as long as you don’t bother her. You sit against the far wall, laptop on your legs. You’ll use the time to finish the assignments you’ve been procrastinating on.
Victoria surprises you by sitting next to you. She surprises everyone else to, if their wide eyes are anything to go by. They quickly look away at her glare. “Hey, Vicky,” you mumble, unbothered.
She pretends to look interested in what you’re typing. Her eyes watch your fingers as they rapidly move across the keys. She clears her throat.
“I would like to practice some more after school. I expect you to be there,” she says primly.
You raise a brow, still looking at your screen. “There’s no practice today.”
“Obviously,” she scoffs. “I wouldn’t be asking you if there was. I just think… it would be beneficial to us.”
You look at her. She’s crossed her arms and is looking down at her lap. You exhale and nod. “Yeah, okay.” You didn’t have anything planned after school anyway. Victoria nods, sitting beside you for the rest of the period.
Damian suggests that you come over again to work more on the presentation, but you have to deny. “I have a ‘special’ practice session with Vicky,” you wink.
Damian ignores your innuendo in favor of furrowing his brows. “You don’t have practice today.”
“First of all, what do you know?” you huff, putting your pencils away. “Second of all, you’re right. However, Vicky has ordered extra practice. Just the two of us.”
Damian grips his bag a little bit tighter. You wave goodbye as you leave the classroom, heading to the dance studio. Victoria’s waiting for you, still in her uniform. You place your bag down, suddenly tense. Victoria crosses over to you, grabbing your hand. “Shut the door,” she demands.
You obey, curious. “Something wrong?”
She fidgets with your web-shooter-turned-bracelet, like she’s looking for something. You’re not worried, the form it’s in right now gives nothing away, but you are really confused right now.
“Vicky?” you implore, trying to catch her eye.
“I…” she hesitates, before straightening her shoulders. “I know who you are.”
You furrow your brow. “What exactly does that mean–”
“I know you’re Spinnerette.”
.
.
.
What. The. Fuck.
You blink, because that’s all you can do. “What?”
“Don’t try to deny it. There’s no use,” she crosses her arms.
“Vicky, this is crazy. I’m not Spinnerette! Was it the Scarecrow attack? Are you still scared? Maybe you should see someone–”
“Spinnerette called my Vicky!” she snarls, pointing a finger at your chest. “No one calls me that but you.”
Your tongue pokes your cheek, stepping back. You never would’ve thought Vicky would be the first to figure you out. Though you suppose you haven’t been as careful as you thought. Fuck, how could you be so careless? Do you still try to deny it? Surely it won’t be that hard, but clearly Vicky is smarter than you think.
“Perhaps she could be a formidable ally,” suggests Karen. “She may have access to resources we need.”
You straighten at Karen’s voice. She’s right, of course. Victoria’s loaded. She can throw money at people to get you the materials you need. Expensive, high quality material. There’s just convincing her…
And maybe… it’ll be nice to have someone else know in this universe.
You sigh and hold out your arms. “Fine, you got me. I’m Spinnerette.”
Victoria smirks victoriously. “Show me.”
“Show you…?” you mutter.
“Show me some proof.”
You blink at the audacity. She was just accusing you of being Spinner, and when you admit that you are, she tells you to ‘prove it’ to her!? You sigh, tired of it all.
You walk to the wall of the room, placing your foot on it and climbing up. It’s a comical sight, the way your body completely changes rotation effortlessly. You walk along the ceiling, moving back to Victoria. Jumping down, you purse your lips and spread your hands. “Happy?”
Victoria’s got a glint in her eye that makes you nervous. She nods, and you set your hands on your waist.
“Okay listen, you know now, there’s no going back from here. If you tell anybody–” you begin, voice taking on a threatening tone.
“–I want to help you!” she blurts.
You blink. “Pardon?”
“Let me help you do your… saving people thing!” she says, waving her hand around. She steps closer to you, eyes shining. Huh. Well, you were going to threaten her and her parents' credibility as members of society. Rich people always have some skeletons in their closets, and you sure as shit are capable of finding them. This is a surprising turn of events.
Still, you scoff. “This is insane–”
“I can be your sponsor! Like whoever makes all of Batman's stuff!”
“I would’ve never expected this from you—why do you want to help me?” you ask incredulously.
“Nothing I do satisfies my parents!” she growls. Oh dear, backstory time. “They literally left me the company to inherit, but doubt my ability to run it. I pay attention, I get good grades and I do everything they say, but they still doubt me. I even try to get with stupid Damian Wayne.” She throws her hands up. “I don’t even like him!”
“I know I can’t tell them you’re Spinnerette, but if I can successfully help you do what you do…” she curls her hands together. “Then at least I would know that I’m good at something.”
You’re left speechless. It’s like you’re listening to a brand new person. You place your hands on her shoulders. “You already are good at something, dance!” You gesture to the room. “You work harder than anyone else here!”
“Dance isn’t my future,” she scowls.
You purse your lips. You have no idea how she feels. The adults in your life have always let you be yourself. Even if they didn’t you’ve always had the backbone to tell people to step off and let you do your own thing. Rich people like Victoria’s parents can get pretty extreme. You wouldn’t be surprised if they disowned her for not wanting to inherit the company.
You sigh, running a hand down your face. “Okay,” you mutter. Victoria stiffens in anticipation. “You can help.” You’ve been evaluating her this whole interaction. She’s a sheltered rich kid looking for adventure and on a weird journey of self discovery. She isn’t looking to rat you out (she kind of needs you, anyway).
She squeals and claps her hands, before clearing her throat and composing herself. “I look forward to our partnership.”
Arms crossed, you grumble out, “uhuh.”
“How do they work, anyway?” she says, grabbing your wrists, pressing around your bracelet.
“Uh, it won’t work in the state that it’s in–” a web shoots out of it, sticking to Victoria’s blazer. You guffaw. “Karen!” you gasp, knowing in the web-shooters’ bracelet form it wouldn’t shoot unless she made it.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me?” she asks cheekily. Traitor. God, she’s been waiting for someone else to talk to, hasn’t she?
 Victoria looks mystified by the web actively attached to her. “Who’s Karen? she asks as she tries to grab the web.
“Do not–!” you grab her hand. “–touch it.”
“Why? Oh, right. It’s sticky, huh?”
“Yes, Vicky. The spider webs are sticky–” the door to the dance room opens, and you stiffen. Shit, the web–
Victoria closes the distance between you two, jumping on you and wrapping her legs around your waist. You instinctively hold her thighs to support her, looking at her in alarmed confusion.
“What–” she silences you by pressing her lips against yours. All coherent thought goes out the window, because literally what is your life?
Her hands wind around your head, and her lips caress yours with a soft yet firm pressure. Your heart races, pounding in your chest as you instinctively tighten your grip around her legs, pulling her closer. The warmth of her body against yours and the taste of her lips make everything else fade away.
After what feels like an eternity, she slowly pulls back, leaving your lips tingling. She gazes at you with a mix of mischief and satisfaction, running a hand through her hair to tuck a loose strand behind her ear. You stare at her in awe, your breath coming in short gasps. She's got balls of steel, no doubt about it. You just gained a whole new level of respect for her.
She looks to the side. “Oh, hi Damian.”
Oh god. You look to the entrance of the room and sure enough, Damian’s there. He’s looking at the two of you with wide eyes, unable to school his expression. He’s stopped dead in his tracks with your phone in his hand.
Wait… your phone!
You shift so Victoria’s back is facing him. You balance her with one hand, reaching between you two to get rid of the web that’s squished between you. You do it quickly, balling it up in your hand and setting down Victoria on the floor and heading over to Damian.
“Thanks, I didn’t even notice I left it,” you smile casually, internally screaming.
Damian says nothing as you take your phone from him, stuffing it in your pocket. You place your hands on his chest and guide him out. “Okay. Bye now. Talk to you later!” He seems to finally realize what’s happening, brows furrowing and looking at you before you close the door in his face. You lean against it, listening. There’s no sound for a bit, before you hear Damian walk away. You sigh.
“Holy shit, Vicky. What the hell?” You can’t help but laugh. You throw the balled up web in the trash, making your way over to her. She’s got a cheeky smile on her face, hands behind her back.
“It’s like I don’t know you anymore,” you tease. She’s looking at you.
“I like you,” she says, making you freeze for probably the tenth time this afternoon. When will it end?
“I have feelings for you,” she elaborates, pacing. “I know that you don’t feel the same. I just…” she stops, turning to face you. Her eyes peer earnestly into yours. It crushes your heart. “...I know your secret. Now, you know mine.”
You whisper, painstakingly soft, “oh, Tori…”
She sniffs, swatting your shoulder. “Don’t flatter yourself, I’m not in love with you or anything.”
Still, you feel like the worst human being ever. It’s not your fault you don’t have feelings for her, you know that. And yet… you’re probably the first person she’s ever shown this side of her to. Dare you say, her first real friend.
You pull her into your arms. “I’m so sorry.”
She melts into your arms, gripping you tightly. Her light sniffles fill the room.”I’ll get over it,” she promises. You only hold her tighter. After what feels like an eternity, she withdraws from you, wiping her tears.
“Okay, some ground rules,” you say, hopefully providing a much needed topic change
“Number one, you can’t tell anyone.”
She nods. “Obviously.”
“Number two, I call the shots. If I say do something, do it. I know better, it’s for the best.”
“Number three, this changes nothing. We can act like friends if you want, but if your grades start dropping or people start noticing you acting strange, we’re done. Got it?”
“Got it,” she agrees. You heave out a sigh. “Go home, Tori.” You web over her bag and hand it to her. She goes sparkly-eyed again.
“Will you patrol?” she can’t help but ask.
“I think I deserve the night off. The Bats can handle it.” You grab your stuff and turn towards the door. “I’m gonna take a long nap when I get home.”
“Let me take you home then!” she blurts.
“Jesus, do all you rich kids have chauffeurs?” you ask. She shrugs. “Yeah, sure. Whatever. I just wanna lay down and not wake up for three years.”
Victoria bids you goodbye as you make you enter your apartment. You drop your bag, groaning at your stiff shoulders. You sag your way over to your bed, flopping face first into it. You knock out almost immediately, letting the stress of the day leave you. Spideys never have it easy, do they?
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notes: y'all i've had that tori scene in mind since i first made her LMAO
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cherrycherrylady2024 · 4 months ago
Text
Christmas with the Grimes'
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(Dilf! Rick Grimes x reader) Word count: 2,675
Warnings: 18+ for real. NSFW, some angst, fingering, hickeys, grinding, light choking/hair pulling? I need Rick Grimes so bad
Chapter 3: In your dreams
“So then Martian Man defeats the evil robot, except the robot was actually his half-brother the whole time, so he gets really sad at the end of issue #4. Then in #5 he-” Carl was giving you the entire lore behind his new comic book, and you put on your best listening face, while Judith tapped on her phone, having already heard this. Except you weren’t really listening whatsoever. Your mind was in a frenzy of activity. Did he see? Does he know? Who are you kidding, of course he knows. Your face was still red with embarrassment since the incident half an hour ago. If only Carl and Judith weren’t expecting you, you’d have hidden under Rick’s blanket for the rest of the day. Maybe the rest of winter break, but who’s to say?
You wanted to punch him in his stupid handsome face for making you feel like this. Either punch or kiss. Maybe both. That look Rick gave you, you couldn’t get it out of your head. It was nearly a smirk, but more subtle and prideful. Like he knew what he would catch you doing. He knew how you felt. You were petrified to see him again. “...and I haven’t read the new comic yet, but I heard it’s supposed to be pretty good! Do ya wanna borrow it when I'm done?” Carl questioned. You snapped out of your daze. “Oh! Yes, totally. Thanks,” You replied. Judith got up from Carl’s twin bed, where she lounged, “Alright Carl, it’s my turn with y/n. You read your new comic til dinner.” With the word ‘dinner’ you felt your stomach twist unpleasantly, your mind on the verge of implosion. With a whine of “Alriiight,” Carl sat down at his little desk and began poring over the pages. 
Judith led you down the opposite hallway towards her bedroom. As you followed, you passed the only other bedroom in the house. The door was slightly ajar. You heard the floorboards creak underneath him as he padded around the room. Rick was putting away laundry, sloppily folding pants and shirts, and didn’t notice your quick passing. Or at least he didn’t show it. You had lingered back just slightly, but thankfully Judith didn’t notice as you caught right back up with her. “Okay, so I’m right down the hall from you if you need anything. It’ll be weird not sharing a room, right?” she said as she entered her bedroom. “Oh yeah, super weird. What am I going to do without your snoring lulling me to sleep?” you mocked. “You know you love it,” she said, plopping on her bed. Judith's room was adorned with fading pink floral wallpaper, posters, sports trophies, books, and photos. “Anyways this is my room, it clearly hasn't been updated since 2010 but it’s still a vibe,” Judith said. You picked up a photo from her bookshelf. It appeared to be from a high school dance, as Judith wore what could only be considered the ugliest, most ruffled, unflattering dress in the world, and was holding hands with a gawky teenage boy. Both Judith and the boy awkwardly smiled for the photo, turning out more like grimaces with mouths full of braces. “It is totally still a vibe,” you said turning back to her with the picture, containing your laughter. “Fuck off!” she cried, jumping up and snatching the photo from you as you burst out in giggles, “We all make mistakes, it was sophomore year for god's sake,” she said. “I am begging you. Please bring that back to the dorms with us. Please! It can be my Christmas present” you choked out in between laughter, sitting at her desk. Judith gazed at the photo, “I can’t believe I made out with him that night” she said. “Oh god, please no” you responded in horror. “I think our braces got stuck together” she pondered. “PLEASE you’re gonna make me sick” you laughed, covering your ears. Judith snorted and placed it back on the shelf, “Hold on, you’re gonna die when you see this. I think I have it in here,” she said, as she looked hurriedly through her bookshelf. She pulled out a photo album, “Here!” she exclaimed, flipping through the pages. She landed on one and handed it to you, “Talk about bad Prom pictures.”
It was another prom photo, but it appeared to be from the late 80s/early 90s. A tall thin brunette woman grinned widely, almost painfully, at the camera, her dress clearly a hand-me-down from the mid-80s. She held awkwardly at arm's length a man who looked a year or two older. He wore a suit with a ruffle on the collar, which also screamed hand-me-downs. If it weren’t for those eyes, you wouldn't have even recognized Rick Grimes. He looked much less self-assured, maybe even nervous, and probably 10 years younger than the photo you had seen of him in the hallway. “The fucking posing gets me every time, look at my mom's face” Judith laughed. Your stomach started to hurt. “That's your mom?” you questioned. “Yeah,” Judith replied, “The whole photo album’s pictures of her. We made it right after she died as like a commemorative therapy type-thing. Flip through it,” She suggested as she began unzipping her suitcase. You turned the pages slowly. Rick was in many of the photos, but most prominently featured was Mrs. Grimes. You didn’t even know her name. Judiths mom. Ricks wife. The anxious knots in your stomach seemed to tighten more and more. “I’m gonna go lay down.” You stated, hurriedly standing, leaving the photo album on the desk. Judith looked up at you from her suitcase with a hint of concern. “I’m just – tired. I’ll let you unpack,” you added. “Okay,” Judith shrugged. You began to leave, “Oh and I think dinner’s at 7!” she mentioned. Your stomach did flips, but you gritted your teeth, “Okay!”
You shut your bedroom door behind you and climbed into bed, wrapping the covers around yourself. The clock on your nightstand read 5 pm. Your mind was racing. You felt sick with anxiety. Were you a bad person? Are you imagining this all? Every look, or brush of the hands. Were you convincing yourself of something that isn't really there? He's a grown married man. What about Judith? Were you going to ruin the best friendship you’d ever had? Have you already ruined it? Rick knew. He must think you’re a freak. A nuisance. What is wrong with you? What is wrong with you? What is wrong with you? You couldn’t stop the tornado of thoughts in your mind as you drifted off into a fretful slumber.
~~~
You chopped the large bar of dark chocolate into messy chunks, sneaking a few slivers into your mouth now and then. The kitchen around you was endless, spanning into a vague sea of warm glowing nothingness. In fact, there really was no kitchen at all. Just the kitchen island, where you stood, chopping the chocolate bar. Perhaps you were making cookies. Yes, that's what it was: you were chopping the chocolate bar to put into chocolate chunk cookies. You were content, humming to yourself. Maybe this is all you ever did. It was bright and beautiful and heavenly familiar. Two arms snaked their way around your waist, another familiar feeling, Rick's hips to your back as he held you tightly. You breathed deeply at the sensation, lolling your head back to rest on his chest. He stole a tiny piece of chocolate from your cutting board and slipped it into his mouth. You could feel his belt buckle pressing against your skin, leaving an indentation. His heartbeat reverberated through your body as if you were one, the warmth of his chest against your cheek. Wordlessly he dipped his head down, so close you felt his breath against your neck, you could smell the chocolate, his beard slightly scratching you. You dropped your knife and gripped the counter tightly as you felt his lips ever-so-slightly brush against your throat, neck, and ear sequentially. Almost like he was inhaling you. Searching for the right spot. He hesitated, making you wait. His hands gripped you tightly to him. Almost possessive, like you were his. One slowly traveled completely around your waist to the other side, pinning you to him while the other slid down. His palm was stretched wide, his fingertips brushing past where your thigh connects to your hips. The proximity of his hand to where you wanted so badly to be touched was enough to make you let out a little whine. His grip settles on your pelvis bone as he pulls you to him somehow even tighter. You communicated without words, begging him for more. Anything. He slowly lowered his lips to the side of your neck, leaving a feather-light kiss that sent shivers through your body. You pressed your hips back into him impatiently, needing more. He held your hips in place, his grasp verging on slightly painful. But it felt so good. He lightly kissed your neck again, near your jaw. Then, very slowly he moved near your ear, kissing you again. It was like he had all the time in the world to make you unravel.
He trailed down your neck towards your collarbone, his kisses becoming deeper, his lips parting more and more as if to taste you. You craned your head for more access. More, more, more. He groaned against your neck, grinding his hips into yours. His hands began to move over your body, groping and squeezing. One of your hands ran through his hair, pushing his head, his mouth, closer to your skin. The other hand was on top of his, leading his fingers down, down, down. A nearly pornographic sound escaped your lips when he finally cupped his warm hand in between your legs, his fingers applying just the right pressure to your clothed clit. You felt him smile against your throat, before resuming his languid assault on your neck. You moved your hips against his hand as he continued massaging your aching cunt incredibly slowly. “Please Rick” you begged. He was silent, but his fingers sped up incrementally. His other hand squeezed your breast, tracing your hardened nipple through your shirt. He hummed in your ear, clearly enjoying seeing you like this. You rutted your hips into his hand, the pleasure building in your core. Like a rubber band about to snap. He moved his other hand swiftly from your breast to your throat, slowing you down. He gripped it solidly, making you lose your breath. He turned your head to face him as his fingers sped up. You looked up at him, drunk on pleasure, and panting in his face. He smiled down at you, making eye contact that couldn’t be broken even if you tried. You were reaching your climax and he could tell. He stroked your neck, still looking down at you, then ran his fingers past the nape of your neck and through your hair. He gripped a fistful and pulled gently from the roots, forcing you to twist your head and shoulders even more towards him, cocking your head back. He gazed down at you through lidded eyes, studying your face. Your neck was now more exposed to him and he began kissing and sucking marks into your skin, his fingers never stopping, his other hand still pulling your head back. It was all too much for you. You were going to come. “R-rick-” you stuttered. He kissed a trail up your neck, reaching your mouth but keeping his centimeters apart. You breathed in each other's air and you writhed needily, wanting his lips on yours. You were moments away from coming, and let a choked moan escape. He swallowed it down when he finally connected your lips in the most filthy, needy, sloppy kiss. The rubber band snapped and you came hard. Waves of euphoric pleasure racked your body and you moaned into his mouth as he deepened the kiss even more. You could taste the hint of chocolate on his lips as you rode out your climax on his hand, your hips stuttering. He pulled away suddenly, right after your peak, and you opened your eyes in surprise.
You were met with the walls of your dark bedroom surrounding you, and Rick's blanket between your legs.
One of your hands was beneath your raised shirt, and the other was gripping Rick's blanket with an iron fist. Your legs still shook from your orgasm as you gained your bearings. It was a dream. You swore you could still taste a hint of the phantom chocolate. Even though no one had seen, you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed at your… wet dream? Sex dream? Whatever it was. Your subconscious sleeping state had been grinding against Rick Grimes’ blanket as you slept. The dream had felt so real it was unnerving, and you were having difficulty returning to reality. But you also oddly felt better. Maybe it was all out of your system now, and things could just be normal. You were refreshed. Except for the fact that you were extremely thirsty. All that sex dreaming, your brain chimed in. You reached for your phone on the nightstand, but accidentally knocked it off in the dark.
The dark.
Dinner.
What time was it? How long have you been asleep? Sex dreaming, you mentally corrected yourself. You scrabbled for your phone on the ground, flipping it over. The screen lit up, reading 2:12 AM. You had slept through dinner to dream about a fuck-fest with your best friends dad. Woof. While you were still slightly ashamed, you couldn't dispute the fact that it was fucking hot. You kept replaying the dream in your mind. It felt so real. You got out of bed, removed the bundled-up blanket from between your legs, and headed downstairs for some water. The way his lips felt on your neck. His facial hair tickling at your skin. His hands on your body. You knew it was wrong but you wished so badly it was real. Your body clearly did too, as you felt that familiar tingling sensation return in your belly. It made you want to get back in bed and touch yourself until sunrise. Get a grip. You reached the living room and began crossing through to get to the kitchen. 
“Y/n?” came a dark voice from the couch.
You nearly jumped out of your skin, letting out a little gasp in surprise. You could make out a figure in the dark, now sitting up. A sliver of snowy moonlight caught his face and you recognized Rick, holding a half-drunk glass of whiskey. “You missed dinner,” he drawled with a smile, taking a sip of whiskey. You were still frozen in the doorway, unsure if this was even real or not. What was he doing awake? “I- sorry. I don’t know what happened. I didn’t mean to sleep so long…” you say. He waved his hand in dismissal, “It’s fine, I know you girls had a long day,” he said, placing his whiskey on the glass coffee table with a clink. “Plus I’ve never been much of a chef. We ended up gettin’ Chinese food,” he added. Your stomach grumbled hungrily at the mention of food, and you clapped a hand over it in embarrassment. Rick chortled, “I can heat some up for you if ‘ya like. We can’t have you starvin’ to death.” He stood, picked up his glass, and walked towards the kitchen. You trailed behind him, “It’s okay, I can do it. You don’t have to” you pestered. “I want to,” he stated, looking at you briefly as he retrieved a container from the fridge. That shut you up. You sat at the kitchen island, your mind wandering back to your dream. If you weren't definitely, totally, over him, this would be pretty nerve-wracking you thought. Good thing I'm all better now. He opened the box of fried rice and, oddly, got out a pan and put it on the stove. Was he reheating it for you on the actual stove? “I really don’t mind, you can just microwave it. I don’t want you to go to any trouble,” you offer nervously. He dumped the fried rice into the pan with a sizzle, and looked over to you with a smile, 
“I want to, honey. Just let me take care of 'ya.”
...
Sooo, actually you lied. You needed this man more than ever before. Fuck it.
***
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notes: tee hee hee, i was giggling and kicking my feet writing this. anyways thx for waiting the past few days I hope this is satisfactory, there's a lot more to come! Literally. PS I've never written a sexy scene before so lmk what u think <3
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aestherin · 2 years ago
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privacy
38: daylight
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"— but I hurt you!"
"And I don't give a fuck." He breathes. "Heck, I would even let you do it again — infinite times more if you wish. Pain me. Hurt me. Break my heart all you want — it's all yours, love."
"But for God's sake, [Name]... please don't leave me.
"I can't do that!" You cried. "You don't deserve that."
"And did you deserve receiving unsolicited hate left and right?" One of Ayato's hands left yours and settled on your cheek. "I don't think so, love."
His affection. You missed it.
"That wasn't you though."
"But I caused it."
Your lips parted in an attempt to contradict him, though you stopped at the lack of a witty retort. The man was satisfied at you letting him own up to his fault.
He slowly ran his fingers through your hair. "You should be mad at me."
Furrowed eyebrows were what he saw in return. "Wasn't me leaving you enough? I'm starting to think you're a masochist."
He chuckled.
"Besides, I still stand by what I said." You gave him a stern look. "Why would I be mad at you when you weren't at fault? It was those people, not you, Ayato. You've been nothing but doting and understanding and loving and —"
"It all started with me," he sighed. "I asked you to get into this fake relationship with me. I'm the one who starred in a drama with some actress whose fanbase's toxic portion is very vocal and active. It was I who failed to protect you. It was I who failed you."
Just when you thought it was nearing the end, you felt like tearing up again. Just like he did to you earlier, you rested your face against his shoulder in an attempt to hide yourself.
"No you didn't. You tried."
"It wasn't good enough."
"You did well," you reached out to caress the back of his head as well.
With his snug embrace, the stillness of the wind, and the stroke of sunlight — everything felt warm.
Wait, sunlight?
You swore there was about to be a raging thunderstorm earlier.
From where you were nestling your head earlier, you looked up slightly, just enough to get a glimpse of the skies enveloping the land. From what you saw earlier, it did a total one-eighty.
The sun has now ceased hiding behind the thick clouds.
Gone was the governing gray hue. The clouds, however, lingered. Through them, radiant rays seeped through, illuminating what once was not.
Now, tints of varying colors — mainly blue, lavender, pink, and orange — were present.
"It's pretty," you mumbled.
"You are," he said.
Still with a muffled voice, you spoke, "Are you hitting on me?"
"Is it working?"
You gave him a light smack. He let out a laugh, which distracted you from the noise made by the gate opening.
"I'd hate to interrupt, but..." Both of you turned your heads toward the owner of the voice. "How long exactly am I supposed to just stand outside the gate?"
"Manager!" You screamed, pulling away from your companion. You don't see the way he frowned and pouted, the way his arms reached for you before you started going off to the other person present.
"Manager! You liar!"
"I mean, I told you you were meeting the CEO of Cypressus, didn't I?"
"Oh fuck. I forgot about that! Where is he anyway?"
Your eyes followed your manager's palm, which was now pointing towards a certain blue-haired man. "Over there."
Ayato had to try so hard to stop himself from laughing at your comical expression, lest he invoke your wrath. He'd rather not, really. And shit, you really were a good actress. 'So beautifully expressive, love!' He thought.
"Ayato?!"
"Yes, love?" He smiled sweetly.
You looked at him in disbelief before turning back to your manager. "See? As I was saying before, I told you you were meeting the Cypressus' CEO. And Ayato's the CEO of Cypressus, so, technically... I didn't lie."
You inhaled sharply. You'll deal with him later.
"You locked me in here!"
"No, I didn't. I didn't lock the gate."
You were stupefied. "What?"
"Yeah," she flashed a genuine smile. "If you actually wanted to leave, you could have just pushed the gate open and you would've been out of here in no time. I was even ready to drive you away the minute I see you walk out of here."
"I —"
"You actually wanted to stay with him, didn't you?"
Unbeknownst to you, just like you, Ayato was holding his breath. He was waiting for your answer.
"You know what, you don't even need to answer that," your manager said. You and the man exhaled.
She looked past you, to Ayato, before returning her gaze on you. "Are you feeling better? Are you feeling better with him?"
You hummed. She patted your head. "That's all I wanted to hear."
Your manager turned away, facing the gate. She gave a small wave. "You can keep her. She doesn't have a schedule until next week anyway."
"Manager!"
"But if you dare hurt her, make her feel bad again," she gave one last look, though it wasn't pointed at you. "I swear you'll never be able to get close to her again. Not even hear her voice. Not even touch a strand of her hair."
Ayato shivered. He knew he wouldn't ever dare inflict you pain again, yet he was still frightened by the threat. He wasn't afraid of your manager, no.
He dreaded not being able to be with you again.
"I keep my promises."
The other woman simply hummed and left (not before telling you that she's only one call away should you wish to leave).
"Is that promise to love me?" You went back in front of him, fighting back a smile. "That. And even more, [Name]."
Your almost-smile resulted in a frown, which worried Ayato. Did he do something wrong? Did you perhaps change your mind and wanted to leave with your manager now?
"So..." You trailed off. "CEO, huh?"
"Oh, that." He chuckled nervously. You just raised a brow at him, attempting to intimidate him even more.
Ayato sighed. But then he realized something.
You were taken aback, however, when he immediately flashed you a playful smile, his right arm hovering above his abdomen. He then made a graceful bow.
"I fear I've been less than hospitable to you, my lady, my dearest guest. Would you care to join your business partner inside as we discuss more over tea?"
You raised a brow, slightly questioning whatever this sudden skit is all about. But of course, being the performance arts-inclined person that you are, you decided to go along.
"Gladly, my lord."
You'll never know this, but you almost killed the CEO of Cypressus with mere three words. Those weren't even the three words — the one sentence that everyone thinks of when they hear the phrase — but it still almost ended him nonetheless.
He imagines his impending doom with delight once he finally gets to hear you say the proper three words. He swore he could welcome death with open arms, if that was what it takes.
Ayato wrapped his fingers around yours as he guided you inside. The familiarity of everything calmed your nerves down. The foyer where he and someother helpers welcomed you, the living room where you used to always hang out with him and Ayaka. The visible dining area where you two ate often and sometimes had hotpot nights with his sister. And after that, the clean kitchen counter where Ayato used to always stay as he watched you make something for him.
It felt like home.
"Stay here," he motioned for you to sit on the living room couch. He said he'd make you guys some tea?
He would?
Oh no.
"Wait!" Hurried yet light footsteps can be heard against the hardwood floors. With a slightly disoriented face, Ayato turned his head at your direction. "Is something wrong?"
"Yes. Something is very wrong," you tried to catch your breath. "You're absolutely not making tea. Let me do it."
You knew him well enough to know that he is just physically incapable of concocting something edible at this point. Not even tea. Not even just instant tea.
He'd always find a way to make it suspicious and off-putting.
"But —"
"I know you're very rich, but please don't intentionally destroy your kitchen, 'Yato."
The man in question simply took a deep breath and raised both his hands in the air as a sign of surrender. You then marched into their kitchen as if you own the place, with the real owner trailing behind you like an obedient puppy whose leash you were holding.
When you both walked out of the kitchen, you immediately plopped down into the fluffy couch, while Ayato carefully placed the tray of teas on the table before sitting directly in front of you.
He would've loved to sit beside you, but you sat on a one-seater sofa.
He wasn't sure if that was intentional or not.
On the brighter side, it helped set the mood even better for this 'business meeting' of yours. You as [Name], the renowned actress, and the man across you as Kamisato Ayato, CEO of the famous bubble tea brand, Cypressus.
He took a sip first. "Just so you know, I was serious about getting you as an ambassador and endorser of our company."
You imitated his actions. "Where's the contract?"
"Not yet made."
"Why?"
"I want to make it on your terms." As he let his cup down, the curling of the corners of his lips were visible. "Ask for whatever you want and it shall appear on the contract. Easy as that."
You gave him a feigned frown. "That's not very smart of you, mister."
He merely snickered.
"I am stupid when it comes to you."
Your face flushed.
'The tea. Yeah, it must be from the tea,' you lied to yourself.
"Speaking of business," Ayato attempted to shift the topic. "We have something to take care of."
"Us?" You joked.
He let out a smile. "That too, but..."
"Hm?"
"I was referring to, uh..." His voice trailed off. It seemed like it was a topic he has a hard time talking about.
'Here goes nothing,' he thought.
"Well, what do you want to do about those malicious people online, love?"
"Oh? Knowing you, I thought you'd have done something about that by now," you truthfully said.
Ayato sighed. "Believe me, love. I really wanted to, but..."
"I promised to myself that I won't do anything else without consulting you first."
You couldn't say anything. You couldn't do anything but let his eyes entrance you once more.
You could only hold your breath.
"You know very well that I had to learn the hard way, [Name]." He leaned closer to the table, and by extension, to you as well. "And I'm not willing to go through the torture of losing you again because of that very same mistake."
"I don't want to put you, my love, [Name], the one I hold dearest, through suffering once more because of my faulty decisions."
With his every word, everything came crashing down. You thought about everything all at once, it was overwhelming — the memories, the feelings. The pain and pleasure, the angst and affection.
Swamped by everything, you couldn't help but tear up once more. Looking down was your last resort, attempting to shield him from the fact that you were about to cry for the second time today.
You began to fidget. "It's all me."
"Huh? What are you saying —"
"I was the one that broke us, wasn't I?"
"No." He immediately got up and stood up next to you, who was still sitting. "Shush, love. You didn't break anything."
You felt a hand caress your back. "But I —"
"It was already broken since the beginning."
Through small gaps, you were able to see him now kneeling down in front of you. Ayato started consoling you, his fingers running through strands of your hair and his voice in soft whispers.
"My reasoning was flawed. My methods were foolish... and after I coerced you into that faux relationship, I had the guts to fail you."
His free hand caught yours, followed by him bringing it to his lips. "I didn't get to tell you, to make you feel the truth: that unlike that relationship, my feelings were real from the start."
You stiffened up. Ayato continued, "Because I was a coward. And I am stupid — as you already know."
"Still, despite my imperfections..." The hand previously busy with your hair was suddenly on your chin, his touch as light as a feather. With his help, you managed to finally look at him once more. "I want to ask you an ambitious question —"
He took a deep breath, yet the affection in his eyes remained.
"— Would you accept me? Again? For real this time, [Name]?"
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privacy — ayato x reader smau
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starreyblueberry · 2 months ago
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THIS SOMEHOW TURNED INTO A JIMMYTIMMY FIC THIS WAS SUPPOSE TO JUST BE A RAMBLE.. LOWKEY brainrot over Timmy and Jimmy right now. Ignoring the fact that the specials are some of the best episodes from BOTH of the shows (idk what people say 1 2 and 3 were all peak), the characters Timmy and Jimmy have such potential?? Like two polar opposites who use different forms of creation to express their creativity, yet similar kids who could find solstice within each other, as they both feel left out within their lives due to differences they cant quite fix, but still are able to understand each other. How they both became quick friends who bicker, and actually taught each other how to live, idk I think it's sweet.
Maybe they kept in touch over the years? That they texted till Midnight? That they considered each other their best friends at one point? I mean- it would make sense! With what they both go though, especially if it spans years, them becoming best friends, being able to understand each other like no one else, it makes sense. They would visit each other's dimensions as much as they could. They didn't want to destroy the multiverse, but they also wanted to see each other. Jimmy had a small google calendar that at least once a month, had "Timmy Turner stay over" or "Visit Turner's dimension." Jimmy and Timmy would have sleepovers at each other's place, usually Timmy staying a few days with Jimmy. They would go too amusement parks one day, and space the next. Jimmy became close with the computer programs "Cosmo and Wanda" as well, having conversations with them about his inventions, and giving him actual advice! (Mostly Wanda, Cosmo usually just tried to shoot random things with his wand- but he was sweet in his own way) They even had a prototype called "Poof" appear once in a while. He usually clung onto Timmy and would call him his older brother (he questions the true sentience of these beings). They both had memorized every nook and cranny of each other's houses/cities. They both could pass as residents there with how much knowledge they had of the other dimensions. Hell- all of Timmy's friends knew who Jimmy was and all of Jimmy's friends knew who Timmy was. They even visited each other's schools a few times! They were part of each others lives even if they weren't part of the same reality, Timmy would teach Jimmy how to relax, it was something Jimmy struggled with, especially as he grew up. He was making world-altering inventions daily, but when Timmy was around, sometimes he would just listen to him talk about comics or go on a walk on a different planet. It was peaceful, especially as Timmy would push that he didn't always need to solve everything, and he was allowed to take breaks. Sure Jimmy still overwork himself, but he doesn't feel as guilty when he takes naps anymore. Jimmy taught Timmy that he's never alone and that people do in fact care about him besides his godparents. That while his family sucked, he wasn't fated to just be miserable. He was creative, kind, smart, funny, and people were idiots if they couldn't see that. Timmy won't ever admit to shedding a tear that day, as well as getting a gift for him the next day (A drawing of Gonard and Jimmy, as well as a polaroid attached to it of Timmy and Jimmy on the beach, splashing water on each other.) Timmy gained a bit more hope in the future after that.
Eventually, Jimmy could really see Timmy being his friend forever, and actually had a meaningful bond with him. That he never wants Timmy to leave his side, even if they bicker like a old married couple everyday, even if people tell both of them that their way to destructive together, even if somehow- some enemy of there's wants to make sure they both end up dead, Jimmy wants to find Timmy every step of the way. Timmy would have had the same thoughts if he hadn't known that it was all futile anyway. He would have had the exact same feelings- he does! But he knows that after he's 18, it's over. He knows that the moment the clock strikes 12, he can never step foot in retrovill again, he could never hear the name Jimmy Neutron again outside of blurry memories from his friends. He would forget every adventure, party, sleepover, late-night drives, and multi-dimensional butt-kicking he experienced with Jimmy. Timmy tried to hold it off for so long, he really did. He refused to let Jimmy know anything about this, he didn't want Jimmy trying to solve this, he knew that would be impossible. He didn't want all of his hangouts to just be speculation on how he could stay, he just wanted to spend some time with his best friend. With the person he would have spent the rest of his life with, if it was possible.
Jimmy was working on a surprise gift for Timmy. He was trying to do something creative rather than scientific since that was Timmy's style. He was trying to sew patches onto a pink hoodie, small white stars being embroidered along the sleeve. It looked simple sure, but it was something Jimmy was working on for days! He even set aside his latest project for it, which is saying a lot for Jimmy. They had planned a hangout just 2 days before his birthday, he knew that Timmy always spent his birthday with his computer programs, so an early birthday gift was due! Jimmy could hear the portal booting up from behind him, and he felt a spark of excitement within him. When Timmy stepped out of the portal, Jimmy folded the hoodie in his hands and was ready to hand it to Timmy, he hopped off his chair and walked to Timmy. He noticed the redness in his eyes and his tired demeanor, huh, must have had an adventure with his computer programs the day before. He was going to say Happy Early Birthday and a snarky remark on how he's surprised he reached adulthood. Timmy didn't let Jimmy get one word in before he broke the news though "Jimmy look, please please don't be mad at me I just-" Jimmy could already see the sweat forming on Timmys head, god did Timmy mess up again? dId he fuck up with some sort of extraterrestrial creature and needs his help? for the love of science. "I have something important to tell you." Timmy quietly says. Timmy shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, as he slightly looked down to avoid direct eye contact with Jimmy. "I've wanted to tell you for the past YEAR, and it been so hard to even find the words!" His voice is quickening in pace, he even grabs his hat and starts to fidget with it in his hands. "and I know I fucked up by not telling you sooner I know, but you deserve this explanation for what's about to happen, and I'm just gonna spit it out right here and now-"
Jimmy could see how panicked he was as if he was on a time limit. ... "I'm going to forget you, and retrovill- everything. There's nothing you can do about it either." ...At first, It was denial. Jimmy was so confused, he said he could probably just make a memory machine and bring them back later, all these "dramatics" weren't necessary. I mean, forget the past 8 years? He could practically sense the bullshit coming from that statement, He was already about to start working on it before Timmy refused. He explained how if he kept his memories, the computer programs could "fry up" or whatever. Jimmy just said he could alter them to have better software, but Timmy refused. "Look- I can just upload your memories into my computer and it'll be fine! I already have a bunch of videos of us throughout the years it wouldn't be too hard." He explained very casually, Jimmy quickly glaced over his lab as he said this, his hand following to showcase all the gadgets he could use to easily solve this!
"Jimmy no" Timmy put his hand on his nose, slightly squeezing it. "these programs are beyond whatever science-thingy you can do- its not just science its more complicated-" Jimmy interjected "Science can fix everything Turner, I thought you've known me long enough to know that," He said smugly as he slightly grinned at his comeback. Timmy just glared back, and Jimmy could sense that Timmy didn't want to just bicker around this "Jimmy you can't fix this, this isn't even possible to comprehend to the human mind, even a genius. I can't explain how the memory erasure works but I NEED to forget" Timmy puts his hands in the air as he says this, and his eyes get slightly wide as he continues on "or else there would be consequences that I don't want either of us to face, or my family, my world!" He exclaims with all the emotion he could muster in his voice. "I'm not letting you touch Cosmo or Wanda either." Jimmy quickly realizes with a quick look around the lab and Timmy's clothes that the computer programs weren't even there with Timmy, he must have thought this out, smart bastard.
Then, it was anger. They argued till their voice broke, until screaming was all they could do. Jimmy was furious, why wouldn't Timmy tell him. He must have known, all these years, he must have known that everything would shatter and become whatever shit show is happening right now, Jimmy was so sure he could fix this, while Timmy was saying it's not possible, and all Jimmy could do is keep asking why isn't it, while Timmy would just avoid the question. He was thinking of every single invention, every single piece of technology, of scientific knowledge that could help, until Timmy says that its out of Jimmy's hands, and that he knows nothing can be changed. "Why the hell wouldn't you tell me?? I could have solved this by now, I could have, why the fuck wouldn't you have let me" Jimmy puts his hands in the air as he exclaims this Timmy takes a step back "Because I knew you would have a meltdown over this, I knew you would just try and solve this with whatever gizmo you have and then come up empty-handed-" "Since when have I ever come up empty-handed." Jimmy takes a step forward, frustration dripping as he stares Timmy directly in the eyes. Timmy takes a slight pause and just slightly squints his eyes. "You would have if you worked yourself to death" His voice slightly breaks as he says this, his feet feel stuck to the ground. Jimmy can feel his face heat up "You didn't let me try!" He can hear his own echo in the lab at this rate "Cause I wanted to hang out with you! I wanted to actually be with you at the moment, not worried about- this!" Timmy gestures to Jimmy himself as he says this, his voice getting more and more meek. He was practically pleading, with Timmy, begging him to let him at least let him try. He was coming up with different solutions, maybe living in Retrovill instead! Sure he has no idea what that would do to the multiverse, but he could invent something to protect the fabric of it while Timmy stays, or maybe if Timmy would just let him alter his computer programs he can figure out a way to make sure his memory wouldn't overdrive their software, or maybe he could look at da rules himself and check for loopholes- or maybe- "Stop. Please just- just stop." Timmy's voice cracks as he says this, tears shining in his eyes. Jimmy could see his own reflection within them. He could see his own crazed expression, and how it affected Timmy. He focused on every single detail of his face, the heavy eyebags, the dull blue that was usually an aqua, he even noticed a small redness in his cheeks. It hurt, it hurt so much and he didn't. He didn't know what to do, and he hated not knowing what to do. It's a horrible feeling to not know what's going on, or what's happening around you. It feels empty and insulting, like it's a personal attack on who you are, and what you've been working towards your whole life.
It was the first time Jimmy cried in years. Hes not much of a crier, he's more of a scream-into-a-pillow or sulk-quietly type of guy. He doesn't like making a big fuss about his emotions, especially as he got older and was taking more serious projects that could actually impact the people around him. The last time he cried was probably when he was 11- but now it felt uncontrollable. Timmy soon quickly followed suit, tears flowing out as small hicks can be heard out of him. It was one of the worst days of Jimmy's life, no, it was the worst day of his life. How can this be something so out of his control, that he was about to lose his best friend, one of the most important things to him in this entire multiverse and he could do nothing. Jimmy was in a hysterical fit, he pulled his hair a bit as he felt his breathing quicken, he didn't know what to do he just didn't he's stumped. Hes Jimmy Neutron! Boy genius! He has 8 PHDS and multiple Nobel prizes under his belt, he has explored places that the average human can't even fathom, and yet he can't even save- Timmy always knew what to say. He was quick to comfort Jimmy the moment he saw him spiraling. He gently put his hands on Jimmy's hands and lowered them from his head, Jimmy didn't like physical contact, but god if he could glue Timmy's hand to his he would. He looked at Jimmy's eyes and smiled his stupid bucktooth smile. As if that would make everything go away, as if that would erase the fact that he's going to go away forever, Jimmy couldn't help himself from smiling back though. God Timmy was the one about to forget everything and yet he comforts Jimmy? He ridiculed himself in his mind for making Timmy help him, and yet he wanted to hear whatever he had to say so, so badly. Timmy took a deep breath before talking "I've, never been the most articulate," his voice strained, like he's struggling to talk. "but please trust me when I say this. Even if I forget, there's nothing that could erase all the fun we've had together over the years. These memories, just cause they're not in my mind directly, don't erase the fact that they happened!" Timmy states with hope in his tone, he slightly rubs the back of Jimmy's hands with his thumb. "Somewhere, out there, in some form of reality, it showed that we spent all those years together fucking around, and that will always mean everything to me." He looks at Jimmy's eyes when he says that, and grins at him. Jimmy laughed a bit at that sentence, which caused Timmy to smile even more, he didn't stop talking though. "No matter who I meet, no matter where I go, no one can ever top you Neutron, and I promise that. Even if we both forgot somehow, even if the world was destroyed, it wouldn't erase the fact that at one point, we existed together, and everything was ok." After an hour or two, Timmy spent the whole day in his dimension. He said goodbye to Cindy, Sheen, Carl, and even Jimmy's parents. Sheen and Carl cried a bit, they didn't fully understand, but they said they'll miss him, and that they'll read the crimson chin comics Timmy lent them in remembrance. Cindy hugged Timmy for a few minutes, she actually considered Timmy really good company, and she lent Timmy one of her hair ties, even if he never used it, Timmy said hell keep forever. Jimmy's parents were.. hard to say the least. They both liked Timmy, but they didn't get the full grasp of him leaving, so Timmy just said that he was moving abroad to England. They just asked him to visit whenever he can and to keep in touch. It almost made Jimmy cry for a second time that day, which would have been a new record.
The walk to Jimmy's lab was quiet, barely a sound was made between either of them. You could hear the small footsteps they were both taking, walking a bit slower than average. Once Jimmy entered his lab, he could feel the cool breeze of the ac he left on lingering. He saw the portal, and he knew that he had to power it on. That he couldn't just keep Timmy here, but his feet wouldn't take another step. "Thank you." Timmy puts a hand on Jimmy's shoulder as he says that. Jimmy can't even say anything, he has no words could really express any emotion he's feeling right now. He just nods slightly and smiles at him. He knows that's probably the last time they'll ever smile at each other again. Jimmy finds the switch to the portal and boots it up, he sees the green swirl and feels nauseous just looking at it. Usually, the sight would trigger some excitement within Jimmy, but he just feels dread as he sees Timmy walking up to the portal. He really wished he could just freeze time and hang out with Timmy for one more second, but he knows he can't. Jimmy just sighed and was ready to wave goodbye, until he remembered something so important- god how could he forget- that he screamed at the top of his lungs- "TIMMY WAIT!" Right before he left, right before Timmy put his foot into the portal, Jimmy ran to his desk, ransacking it for- YES! Jimmy found the gift he was making Timmy at the corner of his table, with all the new sewing supplies he bought just for this occasion. Once he grabbed it he threw it to Timmy's way. Timmy snatched the hood and slightly gasped when he saw it. Timmy held it with such care, he called it sappy, but he couldn't erase the grin on his face. He tackled hugged Jimmy, and Jimmy barely could keep his footing. Jimmy could feel Timmy grabbing onto the back of his coat, and him relaxing onto his shoulder a bit more. Usually, Jimmy would complain about almost losing balance, and how suffocating hugs feel, but this time he latched onto Timmy as hard as he can. He pushed his head onto his shoulder and refused to be the first one to let go. It was the last hug hed ever receive from him, and he wanted to stay like this for as long as time would let them. Once Timmy let go, he turned around walking to the portal again. Jimmy could feel the tears pricking his eyes again, but he didn't feel as hopeless as this morning. "TIMMY!" Timmy abruptly stopped walking, mere centimeters from being transported into his dimension. "You're still the idiot I've known all these years if you think I'm not going to try and find you in the future." Timmy turns his head to see Jimmy smiling proudly at Timmy. "I don't care if your 30 working a desk job, or a famous comic book writer, or actor, or whatever! I'll go to your dimension myself, and find you. I'll figure out how to get your memory back, and.. if I can't- I'll just be your friend again, I'll do it all over again, and I promise that." Jimmy finishes off with a confident note. Timmy, in all his pessimistic glory, can't help but believe in Jimmy. "Thanks, Boy genius." "No problem, Average kid who no one understands."
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hoy35 · 6 months ago
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Leshy seems like he has a statement to make.
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This is actually supposed to be a sequel to a piece of comic that I never got to finish... So my take is that during the time where there were still Gods to kill, Shamura would train their younger siblings and would send them on solo or duo missions with controllable danger. (I have several ideas under such premise, still working on them I swear.) However, one time a God would gave in their power to appeal to the shelter of a greater God just to bring the Bishops down. Heket was on the mission to kill the lesser God, unaware of the changing condition, and was almost killed by them (In the boss run, there are scars of unhealing wounds on her shoulder, my take is that she got them from other Gods, not Narinder. The same goes for Kallamar's eye scar) Shamura sensed the danger and forced their way in to rescue their sister and bring the two Gods down.
Still, Heket was guit-ridden and had nightmares. She would really loathe herself if she failed the mission and or even got Shamura killed. Shamura tried to calm her down by letting her listen to their heatbeat.
And my friend requested that Kallamar shall join them in cuddling. I am not ostracizing Narinder I swear! We just totally forgot about him! Sorry!
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Siblings' pasta time!
Kallamar: Get your own pasta!
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Ok this was inspired by how I kept on getting food resources even without the "money change into food" map buff. And suprisingly, I got cauliflowers, pumpkins, and berries from Silk Cradle; just pumpkins from both Anchordeep and Darkwood; and all four kinds of resources from Anura. It's as if the Bishops would save food for their siblings' visit, awww
I would like to amend that God tears are supposed to come from the great ones, but I drew this one quite early... You could think that Kallamar put the God tear there so as to preserve the pumpkins. (idk why)
Anyway, Heket gets to eat her share of the pumpkins after all! So it's a good ending! (Heket:...)
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Narinder, being a good big brother.
Leshy, being a good young God of Chaos.
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Cute Bishops round-up.
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Narinder, not being a good younger brother.
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Kallamar, being a big brother that everyone tortures.
I know I've been stuck to adding real-life zoology to fictional, humanized animals, yet Shamura is holding a bottle of milk. Actually this makes perfect sense because there is a type of spider that produces milk for younglings. So this does not break the rule! Hahahaha.
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To showcase, here's a guess of Heket's childhood. Real-life frogs are not quite intelligent. So at the beginning of her godhood, Heket would be limited to the intellectual level of a regular frog follower. But she could do well in harnessing her physical power (strong lil frog arms and legs) to learn combat moves and soon grasped fundamentals of her god power. The one thing she failed at was doing paperworks.
But she worked much, much harder than Kallamar and Narinder combined in learning, and made great progress along her ascension.
Shamura could see her diligence and loves all their siblings equally, the love is just displayed with different tactics. They would also provide words of wisdom to guide them, both with combat moves and mundane paperworks.
And of course, Heket eventually was just as smart as any other siblings.
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miryum · 5 months ago
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"Halloween"
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Summary: Detective!Jason Todd x detective!Reader based on Jake and Amy's relationship
Series Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of violence (but nothing descriptive), guns and other police stuff
Series Masterlist
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“I- I don’t like Halloween.” Tim manoeuvred around a packed, crazed precinct. “Especially in Gotham. So many people in weird costumes doing weird shit that we have to fix.”
“The holding cell’s completely full,” Jason called from where he was pushing a Raggedy Ann into the folds of costume. Raggedy Ann blew him a kiss and Jason stalked over to his desk opposite Y/n’s. “So many people have slipped me their phone numbers or thought I was a stripper.”
“Seems like you should follow your true calling then, Jaybird,” Y/n said. “You’d make an excellent stripper.” She winked dramatically at him and said, “I’d be first in line to see you.” 
Before Jason could cuss Y/n out, Steph said, “Seriously, we need to do something about the prisoners. We’ve already had to separate Kim Jong-Un and Hillary Clinton.”
Y/n was walking past the holding cell when she noticed a Hillary Cilton practically in the lap of a Kim Jong-Un, sucking his face off. “Hey! Hey!” She barged through the door and attempted to pull Hillary off. “Come on, now! What would Bill think? I mean,” she paused and muttered, “he kind of deserves it, but you could do so much better than Kim Jong-Un.”
“And… who are you supposed to be?” Jason squinted at Cass. 
“Dude, it’s kinda obvious.” Y/n said, “The entire precinct’s got a theme going on. It was decided in the group chat.”
Cass was dressed in an orange jumpsuit, a pillow shoved in for her stomach. She wore large, comical glasses that looked like she’d bought them for three dollars at a convenience store. Y/n, on the other hand, was in a yellow shirt with thick denim overalls, as were Tim, Steph, and Damian. Tim seemed disgruntled about it, while Damian sat reclined in his chair, taking it with pride. 
“Minions!” Dick called out loudly, silencing the precinct. He was in black jeans and a sweater. Around his neck, he wore an iconic scarf and a bald cap was thrown haphazardly over his hair. “Tonight, we steal… ze moon!” He threw his arms up and Y/n jumped up, cheering. 
“Ze moon! Ze moon!” Steph clapped along and Damian pumped his fist lazily. Tim just sighed and covered his face with his hands. “I was blackmailed into this,” he whispered.
“Oh my gosh, I work with idiots.” Jason sat back in his chair. 
“Attention,” Wayne strode into the bullpen. “I need two detectives to go undercover at a Halloween party where we suspect there will be a transition of drugs and illegal behaviour.”
“It’s like he was born on a thesaurus,” Y/n whispered. 
“Brown and Drake, you’re already in costume. I’m assigning you two to the case.” Tim groaned at his Captain's words, but nodded anyway. He couldn’t disobey his superior. 
“Drake,” Steph looped her arm through his, dragging him to the elevator. “I know you hate Halloween, even though it’s one of the greatest holidays, but I’ll make it the best.” 
“Can you make everyone kind, sober, and fully clothed? Tim asked desperately. 
“Kind, sober, and fully clothed!” Y/n shouted out. “Title of Jason’s sex tape!” 
Jason gawaffed. “I wasn’t even in this conversation!” 
Y/n exhaled and said, “Yeah, but I already tease Timmy-boy enough. He needs a break. However, I haven’t filled my quota for bugging you today.”
“I feel like your quota for teasing me is much higher than anyone else’s.” 
“Yes,” Y/n nodded. “Yes, it is.” 
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“Listen up, dorks!” Y/n paraded into the bullpen, wearing a GCPD jacket over her costume. “I just arrested my first Halloween idiot! He was trying to rob a bank but had a… heh. Little bit of trouble getting away.” 
A man dressed in a large banana suit was stuck in the doorframe of the bank. Y/n couldn’t hold back her laughter as she tried to arrest him. “Trying to ‘split,’ huh? But I’m sure you’ll get out on ‘a peel.’ You have the ‘ripe’ to remain silent.” She snickered before saying, “I’m so glad you’re stuck! I’ve got a million of these! Wait, no, no! Don’t touch the money!”
“I swear, some of these perps are so stupid. I’d make a better criminal than any of them. And the best part is, none of you would be able to catch me!” 
Jason scoffed as Captain Wayne said, “That’s unrealistic. I’m one hundred percent sure you’d get caught.”
“Oh, ho, ho! Chall-enge accep-ted.” She sounded the words out slowly, placing her hands on her hips accusingly.
“I didn’t issue a challenge. There was no challenge. Where did you hear a challenge?” Wayne shrugged, his arms crossed.
Y/n hummed, thinking. “What’s the most valuable thing in your office?”
“My medal of valour,” Wayne replied instantly.
“Oh my god, you’re such a nerd. Fine. Okay. I bet that by midnight tonight, I can steal it from your office.”
“And why would I possibly agree to that?”
Y/n sang out, “because if I lose, I'll work the next five weekends, no overtime. And I won't tell anyone about the time I saw you wearing shorts outside of work. But if I win…” She rocked back on her heels, tapping her chin thoughtfully.
“You won't,” Wayne cut her off.
“You have to do all my paperwork tonight, the busiest and spoooookiest night of the year. Oh! And you must publicly state that I am an amazing detective-slash-genius.”
Wayne raised a brow, intrigued. ”And this won't interfere with you doing your job?”
“You mean my job as an amazing detective-slash-genius? No, it will not.”
Wayne hummed and his eyebrows lifted by half a centimetre. “I'm considering it... I'm interested. I agree to participate.” He held out a hand and Y/n giddily shook it.
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“Hey, Damian? Dami? We don’t talk much anymore. How are you? Did you get a haircut? How’s Titus? What’s the Captain's schedule? I love you, bestie!”
Damian glanced up at her, unaffected. “I’m not going to assist you with your scheme. I am Captain Wayne’s assistant; a job I take incredibly seriously.”
“You’re literally making paper knives out of police reports.”
“How else am I to stab someone?”
“More like give them a harsh paper cut.” Y/n whined, “come on, Dami! Please, help me out here!”
His gaze was piercing. Quietly, he finally muttered, “he has a meeting downstairs in ten minutes.”
“I love you! I love you! Thank you so much!”
A while later, Captain Wayne was in his office and suddenly spoke to the air, “Are you in my ceiling, L/n?
There was a pregnant pause before a voice filtered through the vents. “No?”
Wayne seemed unimpressed. “So what's the plan? You wait for me to leave my office, lower yourself down, take my medal, and win the bet?”
“Die Hard meets Mission Impossible,” Y/n snickered before remembering her place and tutting, “who are you talking to? There's no one up here!”
“L/n, just so you know, right now, I am taking my medal off the wall and placing it in a locked safe whose combination is known only to me. The safe, in turn, is locked in the cabinet. The only key to that cabinet is on my person.” True to his words, Wayne did as he was saying. ”I'm off to my meeting. Good luck with your plan.”
Y/n cried out, “you think that scares me, fool? I laugh in the face of adversity!” She waited a moment before asking timidly, ”Are you still there? Captain, are you still there? I can't hear... Ack!” Suddenly, the ceiling fell from beneath her and in a crumble of dust and plaster, she collapsed on the floor. “Ow.”
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“Oh, geez, what happened to you guys?” Jason asked Steph and Tim, the latter who was covered in runny eggs. Steph seemed to be unharmed. Dick stood up in surprise.
“We got egged,” Tim said flatly. “Some pieces of shell got in my contacts and my underwear.”
“Ooh, very hot,” Y/n snickered, swaying where she stood. Jason held a hand out to steady her. 
“I wish I was dead,” Tim grumbled.
“I’m doing great!” Steph squealed. “I’ve made four new friends. How’s the unwinnable bet going?”
“So little faith, Stephanie,” Y/n sighed. “On one hand, I fell through a ceiling. On the other hand, I think I bruised my brain.” She cupped her face in her hands, muttering nonsense about how brains look like loofahs.
“Look, Y/n,” Dick said carefully. “I love you like one of my daughters.”
“Aww, you do?” Y/n cooed.
“Yes, and I need to look out for you like them. You’re all irresponsible and need constant supervision. But this bet isn’t about you. It’s about Captain Wayne. That man is a genius. He’s had your number at every turn.”
“Well, not this day... Turn... time,” she stuttered. ”Sorry, I'm pretty sure I had a concussion back there! Jason, please catch me.” Jason leapt forward and cradled Y/n to his chest when she started falling backward. “Ooh, strong one,” she mumbled incoherently as he gently set her down in her chair.
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“Damian.” Wayne walked up to his assistant and asked, “could you please decipher L/n’s handwriting? I believe the concussion is affecting her. She and Cain arrested a group of Royal Babies, but I’m unsure of what for.”
Damian took the paper and inspected it. “The Royal Babies were attempting to rob a small bakery. Being able to read Y/n’s handwriting is a gift. A useless gift, but still one nonetheless.”
“Pardon me, Damian.” Captain Wayne turned to a nearby janitor who was emptying Jason’s trash. “Nice costume, L/n.” 
The janitor cleared their throat and said in a deep, faux voice, “no L/n here. Just a random janitor pushing trash around.”
“L/n.”
Y/n spun around, a sheepish smile on her face. Jason hid a snicker as Y/n awkwardly said, “hey, Captain! What’s up?”
“You thought this was going to work?” Bruce hummed. 
“It did work!” Y/n scoffed. “This… was supposed to fail. It’s like chess. Sometimes, in order to win, you have to sacrifice your king.”
Jason’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “That’s how you lose chess. Have you ever played?”
“Uh, yeah!” she put a hand on her hip. “My Uncle Dave taught me!”
“Come on, lass! Even girls need to know how to shoot!”
“You’re slightly misogynistic, Uncle Davey, but I love you anyway!” A much younger Y/n propped up a handgun and carefully shot a number of chess pieces lined up on a faraway bench.
“Atta girl!”
“I expected better of you, L/n.” Captain Wayne shook his head. “You could’ve created a diversion to distract me from your terrible costume.”
“I had a diversion!” Y/n stomped her foot. “There was just a slight timing issue…” Just then, a nearby trash can lit up in a brilliant fire. “Whoops?” Y/n shrugged.
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“Come on, Tim!” Steph threw her hands up in the midst of a party. “You look like such a cop! Have some fun, you know? It'll help you blend in!”
Tim stood stoically on the dance floor, not moving a muscle. “Stop trying to get me to love Halloween. It'll never work. Hey, heads up!” He noticed a man swap drugs for money with someone else. “I'll cut 'em off at the exit!”
Steph whirled around, instantly forgetting about the party. “Move! Move, move!”
The pair raced after the culprits and Tim cursed when he found the pack of drugs abandoned on the floor. “He ditched the drugs. I'm on it.” Tim shifted through partygoers and spilled drinks. “Ew… it’s sticking to me. Ugh! What is that? How is it hot and cold? Stephanie, help!”
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“Hey, Cap-i-tan?” Y/n called from the bullpen. “Can you come out here for just one teeny weeny second?”
Bruce sighed and rubbed his temples, but did as his detective requested. “Do you need something, L/n?”
“Why yes, yes I do. Hit it, Royal Babies!” Y/n shouted out and at her command, all the Royal Babies marched into the bullpen. They began walking around randomly, swarming Captain Wayne, and throwing key chains around. Wayne just rolled his eyes and returned to his office. He found Y/n hunched over the cabinet drawer, attempting to copy Wayne’s keys. “Wha…. no!” Y/n groaned in frustration, slamming her fist down on the desk. “Ow…” She shook her hand out.
“Give me my keys, please.”
“Can you just stop catching me?” Y/n whined, “do you know how much I spent on key chains?”
“Probably around twenty-three dollars,” Captain Wayne said instantly. 
“That is unbelievably close and scary,” Y/n admitted. “Twenty-two dollars and seventy six cents.”
“Keys,” Wayne demanded.
“Okay, okay, look.” Y/n stood up, an embarrassed smile plastered on her face. “Tonight has been a tiny bit humiliating. Things aren’t going well, so what do you say we call off this silly little bet and pretend this whole thing never happened?”
“Oh, no no no,” Wayne let out an unusual chuckle. “I’m not letting you off the hook.” 
“What? Pffft. No… I’m giving you an out so you can save face.”
Wayne shook his head. “This is getting sad.” 
Y/n scoffed and tossed him his keys, sauntering out the door. “Uh, yeah. For you.”
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“Captain,” Tim knocked on Wayne’s opened door. “Sorry to interrupt, but, uh, some officers just arrested L/n.
Bruce blinked. “What?”
“They caught her scaling the side of the building with a blowtorch.” Tim shook his head, still not understanding how Y/n managed to find a blowtorch and climb the building in the first place. Wayne just sighed in response. 
In the interrogation room, Wayne found Y/n handcuffed to the table. Knowing her, she had probably asked for the handcuffs.
“Welcome to the endgame.” Y/n tried to spread her hands ominously, but the handcuffs harshly pulled her back. “Ohh, that hurt. Forgot I was wearing those.”
“What the hell were you thinking, L/n?” Wayne shook his head, sitting down opposite Y/n.
Y/n inhaled through her teeth, trying to look ashamed. “I was thinking I had better core strength. I got winded, like, ten feet up.”
“I have to admit,” Wayne said. “I expected better of you. You have five minutes until your deadline, and yet, here you are, handcuffed to a table, in a locked room.”
“Which is precisely where I planned on being.” Y/n smiled sinisterly. “You remember when I pretended to be Herman, the janitor?”
“Yes, it was mere hours ago. And I caught you as Herman.”
Y/n wagged her finger. “But you didn't catch Cass! As it turns out, she’s great at picking locks!”
Cass crouched by Captain Wayne’s desk, carefully and quickly picking the lock as Y/n distracted him.
“Of course, I needed a way to get her out of your office without you noticing. Y/n explained, “so I created a diversion. Not a mistimed one… a perfectly timed one so Cass could escape.”
A fire burned in the trash can that caught Captain Wayne’s attention. Cass somersaulted out of his office.
“But you needed a way into the safe,” Wayne reminded her.
“And I got it. You were so concerned with getting your keys back, you didn't even notice the sergeant stealing your phone. That's right, even Dick is on my side! Then, Jason dusted your screen cover for prints. The greasiest smudges revealed the four numbers you use the most…” Y/n leaned back in her chair. “Based on your advanced age, I assumed that you use the same passcode for everything.”
Wayne conceded, “that would be a fair assumption.”
“It was at that point that I made fun of Jason for reading some sappy romance book.”
Wayne raised a brow. “And how is that a part of your masterplan?”
Y/n shrugged. “It wasn't. It just ruled. And that brings us to five minutes ago, when Tim barged into your office and told you I’d been arrested. I knew he’s the only one you’d believe because, frankly, he’s too lame to partake in these things.” Y/n grinned sharply and continued, “And as you walked over here, Stephanie crawled into the ceiling, using the hole I so cleverly left behind to enter your office. We had the four numbers for your code, which meant there were twenty-four possible combinations for Steph to try. That would take up to four minutes, which is why I really dragged out this explanation.” Wayne shook his head in disbelief and sat back in his chair. Y/n chuckled and kept rambling, “I mean, really stretched it. I don't know if you noticed, but there were times where I was like, what am I even talking about? I could make a career out of this! Professional monologuer.” The beeping of a timer interrupted her. “Oh! But now, four minutes is up. Which means Stephanie is either on the other side of that door holding your medal, or I've lost.” She pointed towards the interrogation door and simply smiled.
Captain Wayne stared at her a moment longer with a look somewhere in between wonder and frustration. Slowly, he stood up and opened the door. Stephanie proudly grinned from the opposite side, holding up his medal of valour. “Just one question,” Wayne started, not bothering to sit back down. “How’d you convince them to help you?”
Y/n chortled. “You think so little of me. Of course, I appealed to their sense of teamwork and camaraderie with a rousing speech that would have Shakespeare begging for my talent.”
Y/n stood atop a chair in the middle of the bullpen and announced in a terrible Scottish accent, “For too long, we thee have been ridiculed, pushed around, and put down. But I say no more! For today, thee shall defeat the mad king and win our thine country back!”
“How did you actually do it?” Bruce gave Y/n a knowing glare.
“Unfortunately, my speech did not work.” Y/n sighed and continued speaking as if she hadn’t heard the Captain. “The sixty-sixth precinct has no sense of honour and solidarity. Maybe we should start doing team-building activities… Anyway, I bribed them. Told them I would do their paperwork.” She gave her superior a shit-eating grin. “And cause you’re doing my paperwork,” she sang, letting him come to the same conclusion.
Wayne huffed a laugh. “Well played L/n. Well played.” 
He slowly exited the room, leaving Y/n to cry out, “Captain? Hey, Captain? Are you gonna unlock me?” She rattled the handcuffs. “Captain?!” Eventually, Jason came in to help her (not before taking many pictures).
Later that night, Wayne gathered everyone in the briefing room and swallowed his pride. “Y/n L/n is an amazing detective-slash-genius.” Y/n mouthed along to the words. “And if you’ll excuse me, I have some paperwork to do.”
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Captain Wayne sat in his office, surrounded by paperwork. However, instead of beginning, he opened a pad of paper and wrote: Halloween 2
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darkcircles4lyfe · 10 months ago
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To Build Something Else
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Whenever I read a fanfiction that takes place in the future where the hero kids continue their schooling as normal and emerge as pro heroes into the existing system, I always kinda view it as like, “AU where things weren’t as bad” or “AU where everyone is still pretending that this is the way things should be” or “AU where good and evil are morally uncomplicated.” I’m not trying to call anybody out—I’ll still read and enjoy these sometimes—but that’s how I’ve always looked at it. I’m starting to notice other people feeling it too. I’ve read fics where they point out how redundant and unfair it is to go back to being students after saving the world (remember how many pros straight up quit and left a bunch of kids to keep fighting?). I’ve seen people acknowledge how trauma will affect their ability to keep going. Perhaps the trickiest thing to wrap our heads around is how the villains will fit into it all if not through death, punishment, or imprisonment. What about all the other trappings of society? The heavily regulated quirk use, the government-funded pros aiding police control and contributing to cover-ups that maintain the illusion of peace. Hero idolization, quirk counseling, civilian helplessness. Judging a person’s worth or character based on their quirk…
It would sound too obvious and cheesy to simply point out that society isn’t “just the way things are,” that change is possible. We all know this, and yet we struggle to pinpoint exactly where to aim our sights, find the source, make any meaningful progress. The other day I read some articles from my university’s student newspaper around 1970, and it made me feel sick wondering if progress is really an illusion. Fact is, it’s easy to intellectually deconstruct society, but very difficult to imagine how to build something else.
In this fictional world, heroes have offered a mythical vision of safety and triumph. When All Might arrived, everything was going to be okay. But let’s not forget how this story began: with a moment where All Might paused, like a bystander, and in his place, a desperate civilian kid hurtled forward without any common sense. If you ask me, it wasn’t that Izuku was so good and pure and selfless, it was that he disregarded everything.
And so the person who “saves the world” (if we can even reduce it to such a concept) is not the person who puts everyone at ease and makes crowds cheer. It’s the person who makes everyone hold their breath, with a feeling in the air like the pressure changed, and it smells like rain. It is natural to be worried about the future. It’s honest. It means you can see what’s really going on. Hero society has never felt this exposed, but the people are held back from the edge of despair because there is also so much potential brewing. Electricity about to strike. The world will NOT go back to the way it was, no matter what. That much is certain. But what if we still live to see the dawn? What then? What if one person’s courage to break the mold makes all the difference?
I’m not just talking about Izuku, you know. I’m talking about Horikoshi.
To an extent, I’ve given up on predicting how exactly things will play out, because if nothing else, I can tell he’s planning something big—so big, I can’t quite picture it. I’m watching and waiting for the one person who can. I just know where he’s coming from. I think about how he’s never come this far before because his other stories were snuffed out. I know he used to struggle to see the future of his career. I relate to his stubbornly rebellious resolve to do what he wants anyway. To keep dreaming. I know that emotional sincerity is his specialty. And now he’s even directly breaking the fourth wall, having characters talk about what’s supposed to happen in comic books. Gradually, almost imperceptibly at first, we’ve been shown how something else can happen. He’s not done yet.
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danphantom · 10 months ago
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jesus christ. this is my third attempt at a post-agit dan design LOL. this one's a bit more inspired by other people's interpretations bc i like them so much, so if it seems similar to one or two youve seen then that is why. the aesthetic people have come up with for him is just too good idk what else to say
anyway. i really really like the idea of the clone body being his host, and he uses it just to stay anchored to the timeline, but when he goes ghost, he emerges as his true ghost form! i think its a really cool concept ive seen floating around :]
ALSO. i like to think 1) his scars from when he was breaking apart in the final fight show through his host body because while its technically stable hes Not Supposed To Be There also i just like scars, and 2) he definitely works out the host body and gives it a little more muscle bc aint no way he's gonna take going from a brick shithouse to this little twig again LOL
commissions | ko-fi | shop | comics
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bisexualmcqueen · 4 months ago
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alright this one's a little different
its a thumbnail comic of a scene from a silly fic i have YET to write (but i have half of it plotted out/partially written). was a fun choreo exercise. additional context at bottom.
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had to omit some plot details for simplicity's sake, but the basic premise is as follows:
"sort of crack taken seriously in that a freak weather event occurs in radiator springs. the green and white cars are just random tourists who lightning is helping evacuate. he's borrowed one of mater's towing cables… but alas he is not a tow truck. also i throw rocks at him! {he doesn't break his powertrain [axel] just a link arm + a few other suspension bits. it's to nerf him for later to let another character do a good deed in his place} {also he has the tow cable because he was closest to rescue the tourists but everyone got separated}"
the tourists also were NOT supposed to be out exploring carburetor country, there were weather warnings posted, but they lied and went anyways and lightning had to find and rescue them </3 (and then they get detoured and This happens</3)
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yunxi-11085 · 2 years ago
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Jing Yuan x reader & our child yanqing!!
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I just want baby yanqing being a lil silly troublemaker and reader(you) just letting him go no matter what because he's so freaking cute??? you couldn't help it when he showed you his super move of puppy face.. later on Jing yuan might need to learn it from yanqing hehe but jing yuan would be upset, like yanqing broke his favorite cup but he just gets a little scolding and can go back to playing w/ toys... with the excuse of him being too cute that you must let him go
time skip to when yanqing is a teen and jing yuan finally gets to take his revenge by hiding some of yanqing's favorite swords
that would make yanqing superrr upset but he doesn't know who stole his favorite swords.. so he can't confront them abt it and then because you know who stole his lil swords so you secretly gave yanqing some allowance to buy more swords? jing yuan doesn't even know where all that money comes from keke
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reminded by this small comic(?) where Jing yuan is disappointed at yanqing for buying new swords but you couldn't help but give him more money when he asks for it because he's tOO cute (( like even if I weren't related to him I'd do ANYTHING to make this baby smile like this aaa
a few sword buying trips later and jing yuan started noticing n he gets jealous~~ you're little hubby getting jealous of the son you both adore~~
so during this morning when you n your hubby wakes up together in bed, he asks "what are your plans for today?" today you are supposed to accompany yanqing to meet some officials! which is the job other people should be doing but you wanted to spend more time with your son.
"how about we go on a date today, just the two of us." he said. but wasn't he supposed to be at work today? "I'm sure the diviner would be willing to let me have a break once in a while" he was sure, but you weren't sure.
he stands up and reaches out for your hand, "it's been a long time since we've went out together"
you were tempted to go with him but you still had to meet up with qingque too right? you promised her that you wanted to learn mahjong from her.
and then you looked back up at his face— oh my.... yanqing??? the general of the cloud knights, looking at you with such puppy—
"uh... sure then" you shyly said, it's a once and a lifetime to see this face... you must treasure it in your brain for years to come even though you already have yanqing's puppy face in there too
nn~ Jing yuan hides you from yanqing the whole day
I'm gonna add more tmrw I need to sleep aaa
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update :: I'm now awake and leTs continue
Jing Yuan x reader w/ our child yanqing (jelly Jing yuan time~~)
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you don't know but, Jing yuan purposely brought you to restaurants where he knew that yanging wouldn't be in and disrupt the little love time you both have. yesterday while he was sulking in the divine foresight he went and calculated where is the best route to not see yanqing for a day ImAO
imagine doing that to your son
anyways, Jing yuan was being super nice and caring the entire time, if you wanted a little teddy bear he'd buy it for you, etc. etc. if he caught you ogling at some cupcakes or sweets from the window he'd bring you inside and let you taste every one of them!
if you didn't notice, some people were giggling and smiling at your cute interaction. the general of xianzhou on a date with his cute s/o!
it was near afternoon now and you've already visited all the places you wanted to go.
"hm I know the perfect place to go, angel" imagine Jing yuan calling you angel while you call him hubby ImFaokskmskandn I'm single af why am I writing this
you both go on a walk together while holding hands.. the sun is setting and.... oh this man is so pretty. you know it, we all know it. but even all the years of marriage nd being together you still couldn't get over how your hubby is so so pretty.
the radiance of the sun from behind him while he looks at you with those loving eyes.. your heart flutters at the sight.
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and guess what? he brings you to a small cafe, and it was full of cats.. and birds. >> you know whose the biggest bird n cat lover here
you squeal at the sight and almost immediately jump inside to pat the little furries...
the last part of the date was so romantic. the staff was super welcoming and the tea tasted so good. It's like our first date all over again. you chuckled and Jing yuan laughed as well.
"we can consider this as our first date together as a married couple then" which funny enough truly is, because every other time it's the three of you together on a family trip.
when the date is over, and you and Jing yuan walk back. he holds your hand tightly with fingers intertwined. he makes sure he walks side by side because of the major size difference between you two.. and if he walks how he usually does you will probably have to run to catch up to him every step
'maybe we should do more of these in the future..'
when you arrive home, you will probably bring out a sandal to Jing yuan because he failed to tell qingque that you are going when you reminded him to atleast tell someone to send a message to her.
yanqing runss to you and you barely had time to react before Jing yuan picks the young boy up with his two large hands by the waist.
"WAh-
"slow down yanqing, we need to rest." Jing yuan says before putting the boy down.
hm? I'm not tired though?
Jing yuan got the message but nonetheless he drags you to your shared bedroom leaving the poor boy behind
hah...
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jelly Jing yuan is my thing now I need him to be a jelly little baby for me hehe
I'm probably gonna make more yuus
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neon-virus · 6 months ago
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Now ramble shall be under the cut since this also touches on stuff that will be relevant for my fic so, spoilers maybe?? (Also i am no expert in making stuff sensical, so this is mostly shiet ive slapped together thats sitting in my brain)
also excuse any errors, english is hard :D
SO! the crowns.
I've made a lil sketch comic about Shamura and Nari talking briefly and Shamura referring to them as 'beasts'. I like to think that's what they are, parasitic like beasts.
They require strong willpower to withstand their influence. The crowns cannot do anything without someone to wield them, but if that person cannot resist the influence the crowns exert, then they will start to lose themselves to the crown.
The process depends. If the person is of weak mind, then they could become instantly consumed by it the moment it touches their brow. They would no longer be who they once were as the crown infects them in entirety and claims them for its own, eating their essence and making them effectively a shell for its own control.
Of course, these 'bodies' can still die, and once the crown no longer has its host, it becomes inactive.
But if you have a strong will, it comes down to a fierce endurance match, where the crown will try its damnest to break past your mental walls, to weasel its way in until you either give up or the crown submits.
Once submitted, it will effectively be 'inactive' in trying to influence the host, becoming a tool to be used and melded to its host's will. However, suppose that the host falls into a low point or has a grave vulnerability. In that case, the crowns will become active again, seeing their host is becoming weak and thus a perfect opportunity to influence and gain control.
For the bishops, this wasn't much of a problem outside of the initial wearing, at least until Nari started to question. Although Narinder is a very strong-willed person, the red crown still whispers to him, influencing his thoughts in the background and encouraging him until he ends up in his predicament of being imprisoned and leaving the bishops injured and vulnerable themselves.
Though the crowns can be given to others in smaller capacities or abilities granted to others, such as appointing them a vessel, they typically gain access to what is deemed necessary for use and not much else after that.
However, lamb was a bit different. Due to Nari knowing about the prophecy and the lamb showing absolute devotion, he gave her more access than she should have had and gave the crown room to sink its teeth in.
Granted, the crown quite likes lamb, almost imprinting onto her from her sheer strength of will and determination for revenge. It sought no reason to take control or try to as she did what it would have wanted her to do most of the time anyway.
So much so that it gave her a bit of help after Nari 'promised' her the prize she wanted, and the crown placed them into a pact. (That will be its own ramble later.)
and if she hadn't rejected Nari herself, the crown would have tried to make her reject him in her vulnerable state.
Now that he resides in the cult, the crown more or less is her's 100%, no shared control. And now that it has a new host, it no longer needs its old one, for what use is a gross chewed up toy to a beast when there's a fresh one to bite?
It still wants control—it's still a beast in a cage—but it's more willing to let her do as she pleases. It waited with Nari for over a thousand years, and it's waiting who knows how long more for the new host to eventually give in. It's very patient.
Also, when a host becomes infected with the crown's influence, their behavior tends to become strange.
Bursts of anger, erratic behavior, thoughts being replaced with what the crown wants you to think, and hallucinations, both visual and auditorial, are the general baseline for the start of an infection of the host, with other symptoms varying from host to host
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greenarrow-core · 26 days ago
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HE'S BACK BABY
Green Arrow #17(b) and Green Arrow #18
So, in williamson's story in #17, we get Ollie letting go of money. FINALLY. He's not supposed to be rich.
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Now I classify Ollie giving away money in two levels, the gold standard, which is when he donates it(Green Lantern(1960) #87, barely has anything, donates what he can; Green Arrow(1988) #6, donates a money he got that if he spends, it compromises him, he donated it anyway; Legends of the DC Universe #9, sold the company and donated all his money).
The silver standard is when he does get rid of the money, but it ends up being just switching one rich person for other. That's Green Arrow(1983) #4 and now, Green Arrow(2023) #17, since he gave his money to Connor.
In this backup story from #17 we get Ollie going to his new apartment. And as of issue #18, no mention of any job. Is he really jobless? I would like him to get some job. Back to columnist would be great.
In #17 we get our first connection to the 1983 series. Horton Chemicals is mentioned, it's the company he gave to Maxwell Stein. The former CFO of Horton Chemical, Donald Sherman(new character), is killed by this guy who's killing people related to shit the company is involved with, dump sites and poisoning people, y'now.
Back to #17, Batman breaks into Ollie's apartment. Not the first time he has done that at night. Look back into Legends of the Dark Knight #127.
They have an interesting argument, Ollie stands his ground very well and doesn't let Bruce have anything.
Also, Ollie calls Batman this:
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He did that in Detective Comics #559. And Chris Condon already confirmed that's the issue he toke it from.
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I love this scene. There's this vibe, he recognizes how he doesn't get respect, and then makes a baddas pose. He's standing up. He's not letting it put him down.
Oh, yeah, we get more clear shots of the costume in #18.
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I like it. Certainly better than the previous one. I like the opera gloves without any hole. The little cape isn't great. The rest is okay to me.
We get this crazy shot:
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Now, notice in the last panel, there's a weird circle line there. I think it's part from the balloon that they forgot to remove in the editing. Wonder if they will pick up on that and fix for the TPB.
Now, for something that really got me.
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Ollie and his not giving a shit about the law, baby, yeah.
Of course, I'm not gonna go over the million times he expressed his disdain and not giving a shit about the law. But he did use the word "damn" with "law" before.
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Legends of the DC Universe #9
DID YOU READ THIS CONDON? I fucking hope so.
And yeah, I cut off Hal's nonsense from this panel.
Back to the scene, Ollie is on fire. He calls a senator a war criminal to his face and refuses to shake his hand.
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Beautiful Ollie.
In the end of the issue we get the cop who's gonna be working with him in this story. Let's hope for heavy conflict, like between him and Cameron.
She throws a flashlight at him.
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Anyway, that's it. Great issue, the epilogue was great too.
Ollie's back in high force,(yeah not full force)
And PUT HIM TO WORK, CONDON.
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