#but he does this because light is DANGEROUS

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

My Fault London: Nick Blurbs

A/N: Kind of headcannons, kind of blurbs, all around just wanted to write for Nick :) Spicey Ver. Here!

Fast, Calculated

Nick’s car hums beneath you, the engine smooth as he weaves through the streets at an almost effortless speed. You know he’s in control, but that doesn’t stop your pulse from spiking every time he threads through tight gaps between cars like they aren’t even there.

“Nick—” you start, gripping the edge of your seat.

His smirk is almost lazy, but his eyes never leave the road. “Relax.”

“Relax? You’re going ninety in a fifty zone—”

Before you can finish, he smoothly takes a turn down an empty side street, braking just enough for the car to slide into place at the curb. His hand lands on your knee—firm, steady.

“You don’t trust me?” he asks, his voice softer now.

You exhale, your fingers still clenched against the seat. You hate that he always does this—pushes the limits, then pulls back just in time. Never reckless, but always toeing the line.

He watches you carefully. His hand doesn’t move. “I know what I’m doing,” he murmurs. “You know that.”

You swallow, heart still racing. Slowly, you force yourself to breathe.

Finally, you meet his gaze. “I do.”

His smirk fades into something almost unreadable, and for a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of your breathing and the distant hum of the city outside. Then, as if the moment never happened, he pulls away and taps the wheel.

“Good,” he says, voice back to its usual cocky drawl. “Now, you picking the music, or are we just sitting in silence all night?”

Protective to a Fault

The party is too loud, too crowded. You regret coming the second you realize how packed it is, but Nick insisted he wasn’t letting you stay home alone.

“You gotta get out once in a while,” he had teased. “Or I’m gonna start thinking you secretly hate fun.”

You had rolled your eyes, but now, as you shift uncomfortably in the too-warm space, you almost wish you had stayed home.

Especially because the guy you’ve been trying to politely brush off for the last five minutes isn’t getting the hint.

“Come on, sweetheart,” the guy slurs, leaning in too close. “One dance—what’s the harm?”

Your stomach twists. “I said no.”

“That’s not what your eyes are saying—”

And then suddenly, Nick is there, standing between you and the guy like he was waiting for this moment.

“Hey, buddy,” Nick says, voice light, but there’s something dangerous underneath. “Didn’t she just say no?”

The guy scoffs, barely glancing at Nick. “Who the hell are you?”

Now normally Nick isn’t one for talking much. He likes to use his fists to communicate. But after promising his mother promising you, not to be so violent, he finds his restraint ticking like a clock at the moment. Nick tilts his head slightly, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Someone with a short temper and a lot of free time. You wanna find out what happens when you ignore her again?”

The guy sizes Nick up, like he’s thinking about pushing his luck. But then Nick shifts slightly, and you know he’s already decided what will happen if this guy takes another step toward you.

The guy mutters something under his breath before turning and disappearing into the crowd.

Nick doesn’t watch him leave. Instead, he turns to you, scanning your face. “You okay?”

You nod, exhaling. “Yeah. Thanks.”

He doesn’t say anything—just hands you the drink from his own hand instead of yours.

You frown. “What—”

“Mine’s not spiked,” he says simply.

The realization hits you all at once. You glance down at the drink you were holding. Had that guy—?

Your stomach churns.

Nick sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I told you,” he mutters. “You gotta stop trusting people. I get to do that for you.”

Soft Spot for Animals

It’s past midnight when you walk into Nick’s garage, expecting to find him working on his car. Instead, you see him crouched down beside a tiny, scrappy-looking kitten, offering it a piece of leftover sandwich.

You stop in your tracks, biting back a grin. “Are you—”

Nick looks up sharply. “Shut up.”

You raise your hands in mock surrender. “Didn’t say a word.”

He mutters something under his breath and focuses back on the kitten. It hesitates before snatching the food from his hand, its little ribs visible under its fur.

“You’re keeping it,” you say, matter-of-fact.

Nick scoffs. “Hell no.”

Two days later, you walk into the garage and find the same kitten curled up in his lap while he absently scratches behind its ears.

You smirk. “Not keeping it, huh?”

Nick doesn’t even look up. “It’s temporary.”

Sure.

Night Owl

Your phone buzzes at 2 AM.

Nick: Come outside.

You sigh but grab your hoodie anyway, stepping out into the night air. He’s leaning against his car, arms crossed, looking up at the sky.

“You always do this?” you ask, stuffing your hands into your pockets. “Show up unannounced in the middle of the night?”

He tilts his head toward the passenger seat. “Couldn’t sleep. Figured you couldn’t either.”

You blink. He’s not wrong, but… how does he know that?

Still, you don’t argue. You get in.

He drives with the windows down, the air cool against your skin. Neither of you speak, but the silence is comfortable. Eventually, he pulls up to an overlook where the whole city stretches below.

For a while, you just sit there, watching the lights. Then, out of nowhere, he says, “You ever think about leaving?”

You glance at him. “Where would we go?”

He taps his fingers against the steering wheel. “Somewhere new. Somewhere no one knows us.”

Something in his voice makes your chest tighten.

“You’d take me with you?” you ask quietly.

Nick turns his head toward you, his expression unreadable. Then, just as softly, he says, “Wouldn’t go without you.”

Actions Over Words

Nick isn’t the type to say he cares.

Instead, he just shows up.

When your car won’t start in the middle of the night while you’re over late at a friends house, you don’t even get through the second ring before he picks up.

“What’s wrong?”

“Car won’t start,” you mumble. “I—I didn’t know who else to call—”

“Where are you?” he asks, already moving.

Fifteen minutes later, he pulls up beside you. He doesn’t say a word—just pops the hood, fixes the problem in five minutes, then leans against the car with his arms crossed.

“Next time, don’t wait so long to call me,” he says.

You sigh, rubbing your arms. “I didn’t want to bother you—”

He clicks his tongue. “Dumbest thing I’ve heard all night.”

You smile. “So… I’m not a bother?”

Nick gives you a look. Then, to your surprise, he reaches out and flicks your forehead.

“You better not be,” he mutters. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

[cowboylikemac]

BLANK SPACE | H.P

“ screaming crying perfect storm .”

harry potter x fem!reader

includes: fluff, angst

The first time Harry kissed you, it was a mistake.

Or at least, it was supposed to be.

The Gryffindor common room was too hot, too loud, thick with the aftershock of a Quidditch victory. Someone had pushed a glass of firewhisky into his hand, someone else had dared him to do something reckless, and before he could think too hard about it—

There you were.

Watching. Waiting.

It had been your voice that cut through the haze, amused and sharp. “What’s wrong, Potter? Scared?”

And Harry had been drunk on adrenaline, on victory, on the unbearable temptation of you.

So he kissed you.

Hard, fast, reckless.

It was supposed to be a joke, something to laugh about later.

But then you kissed him back, fingers curling into his collar, pulling him closer.

And just like that, the game began.

The next time it happened, there was no excuse.

No party, no dare, no convenient push into something careless.

Just you and him, alone in a shadowed corridor after curfew, whispering insults that sounded too much like foreplay.

“You think you’ve got me figured out, don’t you?” you mused, tilting your head, eyes gleaming in the dim light.

Harry swallowed, jaw tight. “I don’t think I want to.”

And just like that, you kissed him first this time.

Because Harry Potter never backed down from a challenge.

And neither did you.

Loving you was like holding fire.

You burned bright, fast, all-consuming.

Harry found himself looking for you when he shouldn’t. He told himself it was just curiosity. Just habit.

Then why did it feel like something else?

Why did he feel like he was losing every time you walked away?

Because the truth was, it wasn’t just about sneaking around anymore.

It was the way you knew him too well.

The way you saw past the Boy Who Lived, past the Golden Boy, straight into the part of him that ached to be understood.

The way he let you in before he realized he had.

And that was the problem.

Because Harry Potter wasn’t supposed to fall for people like you.

People who were dangerous, sharp, ambitious, untouchable.

People who made love feel like a battlefield.

But he had. God help him, he had.

It was fun, until it wasn’t.

“You’re doing this on purpose.”

You didn’t even bother looking up from your book. “What?”

Harry stood stiffly in front of you, arms crossed, looking at you like he wanted to shake you. “McLaggen.”

Now you looked up, unimpressed. “And?”

Harry’s jaw clenched. “You’re playing games.”

You smiled then, slow and sharp. “That’s the fun part, isn’t it?”

His fingers curled into fists. “Not when I don’t know what’s real.”

Your heart stumbled. Just for a second.

Then you exhaled, feigning indifference. “What does it matter, Potter? You’ll get bored eventually.”

He took a step closer, voice low, dangerous. “Is that what you think?”

You shrugged. “Isn’t that what always happens?”

Something in his expression cracked. And for the first time, you saw it.

The hurt. The anger. The way he had let himself believe, even for a moment, that you were something real.

You had been winning—until you realized it never should have been a game in the first place.

The final fight was the worst one.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

You let out a quiet, hollow laugh. “That’s what you said last time.”

Harry shook his head, pacing, hands in his hair like he was trying to keep himself together. “Yeah, well. I meant it this time.”

You forced your voice to stay light, unaffected. “Alright, then. See you around, Potter.”

His head snapped up. “That’s it?”

You shrugged. “What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, frustrated. “I don’t know what I expected.”

You smiled then, slow and lovely and cruel. “That’s your problem, isn’t it? You always expect too much.”

And maybe—just maybe—you said it because you wanted him to prove you wrong.

But he didn’t.

He just exhaled sharply, turned on his heel, and walked away.

And for the first time, you let him.

The war hadn’t started yet.

But it was coming.

And Harry still looked for you.

He told himself he was done. That he didn’t need the chaos, the push-and-pull, the mess of it all.

But then he walked into the Great Hall, and your eyes met across the room, and suddenly—nothing had changed.

He still wanted you.

And maybe, just maybe, you still wanted him too.

The difference this time?

You weren’t going to run.

So you found him first, slipping into the Gryffindor common room like you belonged there.

Harry was by the fire, looking up as soon as you stepped inside.

He let out a breath of disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

You hesitated. Then, softer, honest for once—

“Starting over.”

Something shifted in his expression.

You took a breath, steadier now. More real.

“I’m a nightmare,” you said, lips quirking, a little self-deprecating now. “You said it yourself.”

Harry exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, well.” He glanced at you, something softer in his gaze now. “I think I like nightmares.”

Your chest tightened, something warm creeping in beneath the mess of it all.

You leaned in, close enough that he could feel your breath against his skin.

“Then let’s make a new game, Potter,” you murmured.

Harry smirked, shaking his head, but his hand found yours anyway.

And this time—neither of you let go.

masterlist!

a/n: remember my inbox is always open for suggestions

tags: @lydiascabinsix @lydiasfalling @laufeysvalentine

[magnagaruzenmon]

Lights camera

A short little jaunt from us with love

INT. SOUNDSTAGE – FILM SET

The air is thick with tension as Daizo steps closer, his voice dripping with malice.

“You and I aren’t so different,” he says, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that seems to burn right through you.

You hold your ground, jaw tightening as you shoot back coldly—

“We will never be the same.”

The silence crackles between you like a live wire, charged and dangerous.

“And cut!”

Mr. Valenti claps his hands together, stepping forward from behind the monitor. “Daizohan, Argo, you both are doing great. Seriously, that was electric. Next, we’ll do the girl’s scenes, then we’re wrapped for today.”

You exhale, the weight of the scene finally lifting off your shoulders. Daizo relaxes too, his previously menacing stare replaced by an easy grin. The two of you nod at the director before heading off to hair and makeup to remove the layers of prosthetics, fake dirt, and stage blood.

The buzz of hairdryers and muffled chatter fills the trailer as the makeup artists carefully peel away the carefully sculpted villainous scars from Daizo’s face. You sit beside him, tugging off the tactical gloves from your costume, watching in mild fascination as his transformation reverts—going from a ruthless antagonist back to the Daizo you’ve come to know.

“Dude,” you say, shaking your head in admiration, “how do you go from pleasant smiles to playing a straight-up villain like that? You’re terrifying.”

Daizo smirks, leaning back in his chair. “It’s honestly really easy. I just think about all the bosses who’ve put me in a bad position and pretend I’m getting my revenge.”

You let out a laugh. “Remind me never to get on your bad side, then.”

Daizo chuckles. “Too late for that, I’m already plotting against you.”

You nudge him playfully before standing to stretch. “Whatever it is, keep doing it, man. You’re killing it.”

Daizo tilts his head, his usual pleasant smile returning. “Thanks. And you know what? You’re doing fantastic too. You are bodying the role.”

You pause, blinking at him. “…Bodying?”

Realizing your confusion, Daizo quickly clarifies, “It means you’re doing really well at something. It’s a slang term.” Then, after a beat, he smirks. “Although, I guess in this context, it also works because you’re embodying the role too.”

You grin. “So basically, I’m just that good?”

“Basically.”

As the last traces of your characters are wiped away and the two of you finish changing out of costume, Daizo glances over. “Hey, Yeji and I were gonna hang out later. You wanna join?”

You laugh, already picturing Yeji’s determined but hopeless face struggling with a game controller. “As much as I’d love to see Yeji rage-quit another fighting game, I’ve got other plans.”

Daizo raises a brow. “Jeewon?”

You nod.

A knowing smile spreads across his face as he pats your shoulder. “Good for you, man.”

With that, the two of you grab your things and step out into the evening, another day of filming behind you.

About 45 minutes after you arrive at your hotel you get a knock on your door. You open it to see Jeewon smilingly brightly at you.

You smile back as you let her in. Not even a moment later she lifts up her top and is saying, “get on the bed baby,” you turn to her surprised as you say,

“Whats got you all riled up,”

She smiles and says, “you dummy. You and Daizo have this insane hero-villain dynamic and watching you two gets me so wet.” as you lay on the bed she smiles before saying,

“I just wanna corrupt you,” as she finishes she takes out your cock and wraps her sizeable bust around your head, you moan in ecstasy as Jeewon slowly massages your shaft with her tits. As always she feels delightfully soft. You moan as she looks at you with the brilliant innocent smile before she speeds up a bit. You groan as your toes curl watching her expertly coax you to orgasm.

“Youre starting to twitch, does that mean you're close,” you nod helplessly as Jeewon speeds up again. Her pace is relentless and unsurprisingly you cum all over her large tits. Jeewon smiles at you before licking the cum off one and whispering

“Do you have more for me baby,” your eyes roll back as you grow hard again. Jeewon smiled before taking off the rest of her clothes and mounting you. Jeewon’s tight sopping pussy readily greets you as she bottoms out on top of you. She smiles as she rides you relentlessly for the next few hours, eventually the two of you stop fucking to go on that date you promised her.

The warm glow of the restaurant’s hanging lights casts a golden hue over the table where Argo and Jeewon sit. The sizzling grill between them fills the air with the rich aroma of marinated beef, the sound of fat crackling punctuated by the occasional clink of metal chopsticks against plates.

Jeewon expertly flips a piece of short rib with her tongs, her sleeves rolled up just enough to show the delicate curve of her wrist. She looks up at Argo, eyes gleaming with amusement.

“You know, for someone who does their own stunts, you’re surprisingly bad at handling tongs,” she teases.

Argo fumbles slightly as he tries to grab a piece of meat, nearly dropping it before saving it last second. He smirks. “I’d like to see you land a 20-foot fall onto a moving car.”

She leans forward, resting her chin in her hand. “I could. Just… y’know, in my imagination.”

Argo chuckles, shaking his head. “You’d be a menace if you did your own stunts.”

Jeewon grins as she takes a lettuce wrap, stuffing it with meat and rice before holding it up to him. “Here. Let me feed you so you don’t embarrass yourself.”

Argo raises an eyebrow. “Oh? We’re at that stage already?”

“Just shut up and eat,” she says, suppressing a laugh.

He leans in, taking the bite straight from her fingers, making sure to hold eye contact the entire time. The corners of his lips quirk up as he chews. “So, does this mean I get to feed you next?”

Jeewon crosses her arms. “That depends. Do you think you can do it without dropping half of it in my lap?”

“No promises,” he says, grinning.

She shakes her head but can’t stop herself from laughing. As the night goes on, the teasing continues—small touches, lingering glances, playful challenges over who can cook the meat better. It’s effortless, easy, and when Jeewon takes a sip of her drink and meets Argo’s gaze across the table, she knows she’s in trouble.

The good kind.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@zepskies

Wow this was such a surprise! I had no idea you were reading this today LMAO 🔮😉

God YES. This is the same idea I've explored in my sequel fics to ESC. It's the idea of wanting more time with a man who by necessity of his job, has to pop in and out of your life. As endearing as Russell is, that would be such a difficult obstacle to overcome in a new relationship.

Exactly! I think that it would be frustrating and a little bit sad to be in a long distance relationship especially with Russell, because he has a dangerous job and there are parts of it that he'd probably want to keep from you. I don't want to think that you couldn't rely on Russell, but I think there would be a little bit of disappointment when he couldn't make it back to you because there were complications or him having to leave suddenly for an emergency. It's funny because it kinda reminds me of how it would be to date Dean if you weren't a hunter and he was. I still need to read Every Second Counts! I'm going to add that to my tbr, which is getting longer every day 😅

Ugh I'm so glad she's got a man in her life that actually loves her and considers her the way she deserves. And if you ever write more of these two I would love to see this exploration of how Russell helps her feel beautiful and appreciated again. 💕

I know! This reader really deserves it, especially from what we all saw with her ex-husband 😒 But I really do want to make a series with these two because it would be really wonderful to show how Russell treats her so differently than any other man she's had in her life and does make her feel "beautiful and appreciated again." I feel like it would also kinda be like what you did with the reader in Midnight Espresso 💗

*snorts* yeah, like a mule, I'd imagine. 😆 But there's something so endearing about Russ wanting and insisting on fixing things around the house for her. Though of course I sympathize with her side of things. She just wants a nice healthy piece of her man. The showerhead can wait! 😏

I am obsessed with fix-it Russell! Imagining him getting his large hands dirty for me, working around the house WHEW🥵! And I can imagine him thinking of all the things this reader does at work and for her kids and him just wanting to make her life easier for when he's not there 🥹 But oh yeah, no, she likes when he fixes things but she really missed him (I would too tbh).

Oh how I cackled! 😝 She's playing dirty and I love it lmao! Girl get him!

She knows just how to work her man 😉 She will go to any level to get what she wants 👀 I don't judge her for that because it's what we all want lol.

💀💀 Get himmmmm!

Man does not know what hit him 😂

LMFAO. Okay, Russ took me out with that one. The audacity. 🤣🤣 Side note: but I love the word "salacious," especially because it fits so well with most Jackles characters. lol

It's a little bit of payback for her making him all hot and bothered 🤣 And oh yeah, I was really proud of that descriptor because we all know Ben or Dean would be throwing around some "salacious" winks 😉

Omg yay he's moving in!! That's a big step and I love that for them.

Yes! It's another step in the right direction to give Russell a more permanent place in her life and her in his! 🤗 Plus I like to think that she's the kind of person that would hate that Russell is more nomadic, doesn't have a place to call home, and that he doesn't eat a home cooked meal.

Girl Yessss - I love the body positivity in this storyverse so damn much. Thank you for continuing this giving me more Russell goodness, I really enjoy how you write him! 💜

Aww thank you so much my lovely friend 🤗 I'm so happy you enjoyed it! I really love this reader and Russell and I'm hoping that I'll get to write out more of their story and build their relationship more between this fic and Long As I Can See the Light soon! ❤️

It's Not A Wet T-Shirt Contest

Pairing: Russell Shaw x f!reader, Reader POV

Prompt: “Is that supposed to be leaking?”

Requested by: @luci-in-trenchcoats

Summary:  When your boyfriend comes into town to surprise you one weekend, you thought that you’d spend it together, turns out he has other plans. Reader is a single mom and is the niece of Teddi and Velma. Reader is described as curvy. (Technically takes place in my Long As I Can See The Light Universe, but can be read as a stand-alone.)

Tropes: Established Relationship

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because I made it more spicy than I meant it to, References to Sex, Sexual innuendo, Little bit of self-deprecating thought (reader), Cursing, Kissing, Idiots who love each other lots. I think that's everything?

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n if any. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Main Masterlist

Tracker Masterlist

A/N: Alright, y'all this is my first fic written for my prompt celebration requested by the wonderful @luci-in-trenchcoats 😊 ENJOY!

You took another long sip of coffee from your favorite hand-painted "World's Best Mom Mug" and tried to block out the symphony of the colorful curse words and banging coming from your upstairs master bathroom.

When your boyfriend showed up this morning out of the blue to surprise you, this was not what you expected to be doing. Well, his appearance was a surprise to you, but you had a sneaking suspicion that your Aunt Teddi and her wife Velma had gotten a heads up that Russell was coming. They'd shown up about an hour before Russell had to take your son and daughter for a movie and a sleepover at their house.

But the bigger surprise was your current dilemma.

You'd expected to be tangled up with Russell in bed for hours trying to convince him to never leave you again, not be waiting downstairs while he tried to install a new shower head in your master bathroom.

You only blamed yourself.

You'd let it slip that the water pressure wasn't quite right and something that you'd thought would take a plumber twenty minutes had turned into an all day affair for Russell. 

Instead of taking you to bed, Russell had dragged you out to his car and to the nearest hardware store where he let you pick out a new shower head and where he got supplies, all the while you told him that he didn't need to, and Russell only kissed away the frown on your lips leaving you wanting more.

You always wanted more.

Russell and you had been together for five and a half months, and each time he left you found yourself wanting more. 

More of him and more time.

It was frustrating to be with a man who had a job that would pull him out of your arms as quickly as he’d appeared and leave your bed cold once more. 

It had been cold before and you didn’t want to go back to that. Didn’t want to be reminded of the cold bed over the final years of your marriage when your husband’s favorite phrases echoed through your bedroom after you put your children to bed:

“I’m tired” and “Not tonight baby, I have to work.”

Those last few years of your marriage were frustrating and did little to boost your self-esteem. Especially when your husband made you think you were annoying him and made you feel stupid for wanting more. 

With Russell there was no such thing.

When the two of you started dating and Russell realized exactly what your husband had done to you, he'd spent every waking moment making you feel more beautiful than you ever had. He listened to you, understood you, and did more for you than your husband had done in all the years that you'd been married.

But each time he left, Russell always took a little bit of yourself with him. You didn't sleep well when he was gone doing God knows what, God knows where, only that when he finally called or showed up to tell you he was okay, you didn't let go of him for hours.

There's another loud bang followed by a string of curses that make you sigh into your mug.

For fucks sake, that stupid showerhead is getting more action than I am.

You loved your boyfriend to bits, but you hated how stubborn he was sometimes.

You straighten up from where you lounged against the countertop in your kitchen, taking one more sip of coffee, before you make the trek through your living room and up the stairs towards your bedroom. 

This wasn't the first time that Russell fixed something in your home. He liked it when you made him a list of things to do when he visited, things like cleaning the gutters, nailing down the front step that always caught underfoot, mowing the lawn, etc. Things that Russell wanted to do for you because he knew how busy you got at work and with your children.

It made you love him more, because you’d never met someone so selfless before. 

When you enter the bathroom, Russell is standing in your shower, just inside the large glass double doors, soaking wet, and holding a wrench.

His usual easy smile has slipped into a frustrated frown while he stares at the bright silver shower head hanging on the wall. 

“I see things are going well.” You snort out a laugh, admiring the scene before you. 

Russell’s dark hair drips forward in lazy strands against his cheeks, his t-shirt clings to his chest like a second skin, catching in the dips and curves of your boyfriend’s muscular torso, and his usual blue jeans are stained a dark navy. The edge of his t-shirt pulls up from the top of his jeans with the stretch of his arms, giving you a view of the delicious stripe of skin just below his belly button.

For the love of french toast, the guy could win a wet t-shirt contest without batting one of those ridiculously perfect eyelashes of his.

At this point you were still trying to figure out how the hell you landed this man and why the hell he kept coming back for more of you.

“Smooth as silk.” Russell gives you a lazy smile that makes you feel like butter on a pile of buttermilk biscuits. “I just finished.”

 “Really?” 

“Mhmm.”

“Huh.” You take a step closer to admire his handiwork, so close that you can feel the warmth of his breath ghost along the side of your face, making goosebumps trail over your skin. All it does is remind you of what the two of you could be doing instead of standing inside of your walk-in shower fully clothed and the things the two of you had done in this very shower the last time he was in town.  

"Is that supposed to be leaking?" You ask, pointing to the place where the plate of the shower head fastens to the wall and where there is a trickle of water dancing down the white subway tile backsplash.

"Oh shit." Russell sighs, his shoulders drooping when he notices the stream. “I can fix that."

You note his sheepish smile. “Rus, please let me call a plumber. You’ve been up here for two hours!” 

“No way! They overcharge you and it’s what I’m here for!” He argues.

Maybe I should try a different approach.

“Rus.” You say sweetly, putting both of your hands on his stomach. Russell’s familiar green eyes flick to your hands as you begin to move them up the wet t-shirt. “When you showed up today I thought we’d be doing something a little different with our time.” 

Russell swallows. “Baby-”

“And the longer you stay in here-” You breathe taking a step forward as you continue to move your hands up, tracing the hardened muscles beneath your palms. “The less time we have together.” You gently press a kiss to the space where his shirt meets the base of his neck and you can feel the bob of his throat as he swallows again. 

“I-” He tries again, but you feel his hands come down to the curve of your hips to ground himself there. 

“Don’t you want to spend time with me?” You murmur into his skin, pressing your chest against his as your hands work up to the back of his neck. The water from his clothes soaks into yours, but you’re not cold. 

“You’re fighting dirty.” He half groans, but you don’t feel bad. Judging by the way his hands have begun to squeeze your hips and pull you tighter against him, Russell was enjoying this as much as you were. 

“But it always works.” You purr against his throat with a smirk. 

“Fuck, baby I-“ 

“Yeah?” 

Your smirk grows the more you tease him. By now you could feel your own heartbeat thudding in your chest calling out to his and despite how cold Russell’s wet clothes are, heat was dancing along your skin. 

“I really want-“ There’s a grit along Russell’s voice, as if he’s trying to hold on to some shred of self-control.

You loved that you were able to do this to him, it made you feel powerful and sexy. Two things that you hadn’t felt in a long time. 

“Hmm?” You moan softly, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck while your lips continue their path along his skin.

He groans. “I really want to do this for you, but you’re making it kinda hard-“ 

“Really?” You mutter nipping along his jaw. “That’s what I’m making hard?”

Russell pulls back from you, holding your wrists in his large hands. But he looks far from angry. His green eyes flash a darkened pine, and dance with mischief. “Baby, trust me. There is nothing more that I want to do than show you how much I missed you.” 

“Then why-" You begin to say.

“Because I know that the second I do that, we’re not going to do anything else the rest of the time I’m here. And I want to do this for you.” Russell’s eyes shift a little lighter. He releases your wrists and cups your cheek with his large hand. You can see the love you have for Russell reflected back at you in his gaze

You sigh again a little disappointed. Today really wasn’t going the way you wanted it to.  “But I missed you.” 

“I could tell.” He smirks. “Maybe your shower head would last a little longer if you didn't wear it out." Russell sends you a salacious wink that makes you blush bright red.

“Shut up!” You slap him on the shoulder, cheeks flaming. 

Russell only smirks wider at you. “You know… I’ve got a solution for that.”

“Oh do you?” You ask innocently. 

Finally, we’re getting somewhere.

Russell hesitates, his hand still stroking your cheek softly. "I could move in."

It was the last thing that you were expecting him to say.

“See I've been thinking about this for a bit." Russell  clears his throat. “I know you can’t move because of the kids but... I want to be here in your life. I hate leaving you and each time I get done with a job I always find myself driving back to you. I don't want to be anywhere else.”

Your mouth is still open in shock, eyes wide. You couldn’t find the ability to speak.

In the months that followed your divorce you’d been on a couple of dates before you met Russell, where the mere mention of your kids sent your dates scuttling into the shadows or back to whatever swamp they crawled out of, but here, standing in front of you was a man who didn’t just want you, he wanted you, and he wanted your children. 

It was a combination that you thought you’d never find, and then you’d met Russell. A man who not only loved you, he made you feel beautiful, alive, happy, and seen in a way that you hadn’t been in years. 

Not to mention that both of your children absolutely loved Russell, and he did a good job of scaring off your skeevy ex who refused to come around whenever Russell was in town because the last time Russell had broken his nose and threatened other bodily harm.

Russell’s soft smile drops a little the longer you remain silent. “But if you think that’s a bad idea or if you think it’s too fast-”

You pull him down to you for the searing kiss that you’d wanted all day long, feeling the drag of his beard against your soft skin, and the warm pillow of his lips moving in tandem with yours. 

His hands run along the curves of your body, trailing fire in their wake, the same curves that you’d hidden under long cardigans and oversized clothes, the ones that you cursed each time you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. But not since you’d met Russell. 

Not when he’d taught you that each blemish or curve you once cursed was something that could make him lose his last shred of self control and in turn, make Russell lose himself in everything you were. 

“It’s not too fast! I hate when you leave. I hate waking up in my bed each morning and not having you there holding me. ” You breathe before you kiss him again, soaking in everything that is Russell as you do. The roughness of his hands pushing up the shirt hung low on your hips, the smell of mint and gunmetal, the taste of the coffee he had this morning, and gentle drag of his wet hair against your cheeks that dip between the two of your faces when you kiss. “I want you here with me all the time.”

“Then I’ll stay.” Russell smiles so wide you can feel the click of his teeth against yours when he pulls you back in for a kiss. 

“Wait.” You smirk, leaning your forehead against his, your hands gently cupping his bearded cheeks. "If I say yes, I have one condition."

"Anything."

"Please let me call a plumber."

Russell rolls his eyes at you, but squeezes you tighter against him, green eyes flashing with mischief. “Not a chance baby.”

A/N: It was so fun to write this prompt and also to come back to these two! Thank you so much @luci-in-trenchcoats for requesting this one 🥰 If anyone else would like to ask me a prompt for my prompt celebration, here is the post:

Prompt Celebration

As always, thank you so much for reading! Reblogs, comments, and likes are not required, but are always appreciated 😊

Taglist:

@roseblue373 @livya99 @mrsjenniferwinchester @zepskies @louisanalady

@yvonneeeee

[scribe-of-hael]

Why Starscream?

I talk alot about the ever fumbling of Starscream's character alot here. Hasbro is no stranger to the mishandling of this character or having been tossed around form one set of writers to another inna desperate attempt to change him only to retcon him.

But what I haven't talked about it the positives in what they have done with Starscream's character or the potential his character had glimpses to be.

I think Starscream being a fan favorite is not new to anyone for the 40 years he has been aorund. Some ppl love him, love to hate him. Or love to hate him. Either way, Starscream manages to make you think about him depaite what light he is in.

For me, I was introduced to the character in 2008 when Transformers animated aired in Cartoon Network. So yes Tom Kenny was my first Starscream and I adore him 💖

But what drew me to Starscream, besides his large build, magenta color, and cliche silly bad guy destined to fail. Was his insufferable personality being clever and cunning, but fumbling at every turn. He was menacing was also silly and kind dumb in ways. He was a treat every time he was in screen. I knew whatever was going to happen would be filled with choactic schemes and banter.

Depsite knowing he was a bad guy. There was also a part of me that really wanted to see Starscream succeed, or at the very least have some sort of win and live to fight another day at that chance. I felt with all the trouble he had gone through he deserved at least SOMTHING for it all.

Yes it was never going to happen, he was written to fail. But also it seemed that was suposse to be a reoccurring antagonist for the s4 that never came around.

But you can imagine my devastated 9 year old self at seeing two of my favorite characters loosong their lives in one episode. I was so upset and angery , esspcially when I begged for him to run away so he could get away.

I think there is an aspect of Starscream, that is shared in alot of his iterations is the fact Starscream is an underdog. He bullied, undermined, never taken seriously, degraded and fumbles almost every single opportunity. Even in some stories characters pointing out that even if Starscream some how gets the upper hand, he will eventually fail.

You can't help but want Starscream to get some sort of win even though you know it could end up bad for everyone eles. But its a big thing that Starscream is his own worst enemy. With an ego and insecurity to make it worse than what it already is.

If Starscream ever truly locked in and ignored all those down playing him and put his ego aside i do think he would be a unstoppable force. But because of these flaws he is left to go from ine failed scheme to the next. There is not to say Starscream isn't capable , skilled or knowledgeable. He is , but he gets in his own way of success. Which I feel is relatable to alot of ppl.

That and what i find to be Starscream's most incredible trait. His persistence and determination.

It doesn't matter WHAT it is, a goal, a means to an end, revenge or pure fucking spite. Starscream is the most persistent mother fucker I have ever seen in media. He just never ever give up for any reason even if that some how is a horrible idea. Once he sets his mind on somthing he is going to go through with it.

Coupled with some iterations of being immortal, Starscream being someone who will endlessly scheme, chase and blow anything in his way is both terrifying as it is and incredible trait of his.

I always admired in TFA how Starscream (despite him taking a while to maybe rethink his tactics) just endlessly went afterMegatron, over and over and over again depaite failing. He tried a diffenrt method. He still stuck to his goal . Yes he fumbled like he always does but it fueled that want for him to get a win ! I felt like he earned it.

I think at Starscream's core he is a driven character, ambitious, determined fueled by spite, which is a dangerous combo with ego. But I admire that dwpaite the odds always being aginst him whether in plot or in the writers room.

Starscream will find a way to live rent free in ppls minds and make his presence know to all. I don't see this Star fading soon, I think he shines even brighter depsite it all.

[koiukiy-o]

orphic; (adj.) mysterious and entrancing, beyond ordinary understanding. ─── 001 (II). the student.

-> summary: when you, a final-year student at the grove, get assigned to study under anaxagoras—one of the legendary seven sages—you know things are about to get interesting. but as the weeks go by, the line between correlation and causation starts to blur, and the more time you spend with professor anaxagoras, the more drawn to him you become in ways you never expected. the rules of the academy are clear, and the risks are an unfortunate possibility, but curiosity is a dangerous thing. and maybe, just maybe, some risks are worth taking. after all, isn’t every great discovery just a leap of faith? -> pairing: anaxa x gn!reader. -> tropes: professor x student, slow burn, forbidden romance. -> wc: 0.6k -> warnings: potential hsr spoilers from TB mission: "Light Slips the Gate, Shadow Greets the Throne" (3.1 update). main character is written to be 21+ years of age, at the very least. (anaxa is written to be around 26-27 years of age.) swearing, mature themes, suggestive content.

-> a/n: here's chapter 1.5 !!?? its supposed to be in anaxa's pov hehe <3 its not big enough to be a chapter in itself, but its also not something i wanted to squeeze into the original first chapter. i had to rewrite this a million times so i cld express his inner oopie goopie feelings as naturally as possible aughhhh !! i hope i did him justice :") -> prev. || next. -> orphic; the masterlist.

The first time Anaxagoras sees you, he barely registers your presence. Another student, another mind seeking knowledge—no different from the rest. He speaks, and the hall falls into rapt silence, his words measured, precise. He does not need to raise his voice; the magic woven into the walls ensures that even the softest murmur carries.

When he looks at you, it is brief, a mere flicker of attention. Your thoughts are guarded—not uncommon, but rare enough to be noted. A foreign mind, one not yet shaped by the Grove of Epiphany.

Interesting, perhaps. But not remarkable.

Anaxagoras continues his lecture, brushing you off as just another scholar passing through his world.

The second time he notices you, it is because you are watching him.

Not unusual. Students watch him often—some with reverence, others with trepidation. Some attempt to discern his methods, while others marvel at the way he manipulates the arcane with the ease of a sculptor shaping clay. But your gaze is different.

He meets your eyes briefly, his mind already cycling through possibilities. A challenge? No—your expression is too guarded for that. Curiosity? Perhaps. He allows himself a moment to observe, to test. Your posture, the way your fingers tighten around the notebook in your lap. A mind on the edge of inquiry, but hesitant.

When he looks away, it is because he has already determined the outcome—you will either retreat or step forward. The choice is yours.

You return.

That is when he begins to watch you in earnest.

Not because of your presence—there are many students who linger, drawn to the Grove’s vast knowledge, but the way your attention sharpens when he speaks, the way you absorb his words not as mere instruction but as something to be unraveled, understood. You are not listening out of obligation.

That is why, when he calls upon you, it is not an arbitrary selection, for he does not waste time on students who lack potential. He watches the momentary scramble of your thoughts, the way you hesitate—not out of ignorance, but out of care. And when you answer, he finds himself satisfied.

Not impressed. Not yet.

But satisfied.

You do not sit in the back after that. He does not need to look to confirm it—he knows. Your presence is closer, a ripple in the pattern of the lecture hall. He tests you again, weaving your name into the thread of discussion, shaping the tempo of the lesson around your answer without drawing attention to the fact. And each time, you meet the challenge. Not perfectly. Nowhere near flawlessly. But well.

He notes the way your pulse quickens when he acknowledges you, the way your breath hitches for just a fraction of a second before you compose yourself. It is an instinctive reaction, untrained. He wonders if you realize it. He wonders if you know that you give yourself away.

And then, another question. He watches you as you answer—not just the words, but the shape of your reasoning, the way your mind reaches for knowledge and stitches it together with careful precision. It is this, more than anything, that makes him pause.

He does not smile often.

But perhaps, just then, he does.

After the lecture, as the students disperse, he catches fragments of conversation, the murmurs of intrigue. Your name spoken in passing, your presence noted in a way that was not before. He does not interfere. He does not need to.

He has seen this pattern before. Minds that shine brightly in the endless constellation of scholars. Some burn hot and fade quickly. Others endure.

He wonders which you will be.

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[okavara]

Would Cryptid Kel bite someone if offered? Would he politely refuse or get carried away with monching?

You just started a horrible internal war LOL I'm stuck on mouse today so you get mouse drawn kelryptid <3

He'd politely refuse and also get very nervous.

I'll touch more on the nature of his flesh cravings as we go through chapters 8 and 9 of CotV :} (I have 6 and 7 planned out now, 4 and 5 are written, 6 partially written!) BUT I will say...

His reaction depends on what kinda day you caught him on! If its a Bad day he'd have this reaction. Staring at the spot freely given to him... Blood fucks him up bad because he likes it. He's afraid of that. He wouldn't hurt a fly when it comes to humans. At least- Not without good reason.

Sure, he'll eat human flesh if it happens to literally fall from the sky, he's not hurting anyone for that. To be willingly offered a taste would be something he'd have to wrestle with. A bite would just feel wrong and too intimate of a thing to do with a stranger, or at least an acquaintance.

You'd have to get him comfortable with physical contact with you at all first before even bringing up the idea.

He'd probably give you a lecture about how he does NOT want to end up accidentally fucking killing you if he loses his mind and goes a bit feral. You're the first person he's seen in HOW long?? He's not going to risk your life. He's not going to risk harming you, or causing an infection you would likely die from (Did you know human bites have a high likelihood of getting infected?)

Human biteforce is surprisingly fucking Strong (not much less than some shark species) soo. It would be very hard to get him to let go if you somehow did convince him to bite you.

It would take a LOT to convince him to actually bite, just btw. Like. Weeks of pestering and probably annoying him until he snaps would be one of the potential ways I could see that you could use to get him to bite you. Or the comfort route but I won't get into that one - sniles and giggles.

Once he tastes blood and gets into pupils dilated mode, it's very nearly lights-out for a while. He'd just want to keep his teeth sunk into the flesh and drink the blood that flows from the wound for a few moments until he's satisfied, or at least just barely enough to get his mental faculties back. I don't think he'd allow himself to drink until he's fully satisfied before he tears himself away.

Also, that would Hurt. You'd be alright, though. Hope he doesn't accidentally break an artery or vein in your arm or bite through any important nerves.

He'd quickly then bandage you up and give you a lecture about it. It would be a very angry wholeass lecture about how this Could Have Fucking Killed You. He'd ask you "Why the FUCK would you do that!?!?!" He's definitely still a person in there he's not going to go "oo human meat fresh off the bone yipeeyipe" hed go. "Oh god. What the fuck is wrong with you" when offered initially LOL.

Honestly being goaded into biting would break his trust a little bit. Both in himself and in you. He wants to be able to trust being around another person again. If he can't trust you to not ask to be hurt, and he can't trust himself to not follow through with that, he'd realize it wasn't safe to spend time around you without putting both of you in danger. He'd start keeping his distance and start staring from the woods again.

But, if it was just a simple question? Yea! Just a polite decline and then he'd probably lose sleep over it for the next week LOL. He's an overthinker....

[vandme12]

ronin x reader who is loopy on anaesthetic?

Ronin x Reader

The first thing you register—beyond the buzzing in your skull and the warm, syrupy weight in your limbs—is Ronin’s voice. Sharp and sweet in equal measure, curling through your hazy thoughts like cigarette smoke.

"Well, well. Looks like someone’s all doped up."

Your eyelids feel heavier than concrete, but you force them open, blinking hard against the fuzzy edges of the world. There he is—leaning over you, elbows on the hospital bed’s railing like he owns the place. His grin is wicked, all teeth, and his black-hole eyes glitter with something you can’t quite place. Amusement? Fondness? Both? Probably both.

“Hi, baby,” you croon, a little too loud. The anesthetic makes everything feel soft and warm—especially Ronin. God, he’s pretty. He’s always pretty, but right now? With the harsh fluorescent lights casting him in shadow, blood-red hoodie loose around his frame, and that devil-may-care smile? He might as well be the devil incarnate.

(Your devil, at that.)

His smile widens. "Hi, yourself, sweetheart. How ya feelin'?"

You try to sit up—bad idea. The world spins like a carousel on crack, and Ronin’s hands are on you before you can sway too far, one curling around your shoulder, the other bracing your hip. His touch is solid, grounding, and way too warm.

“Feelin’… fffffine.” You stretch the word out like it’s funny, and it is, because Ronin huffs out a quiet laugh. "S'good," you add, tapping his chest clumsily with your fingers. "You're so warm. Like… like a toaster."

Ronin blinks. And then—like you’ve just said the funniest thing he’s ever heard—he tips his head back and laughs, loud and bright, echoing off the sterile hospital walls.

“A toaster, huh?” He snickers, teeth flashing. "Baby, you gotta stop flirtin' with me. I might get ideas."

You nod solemnly. "Good. Have all the ideas. All of ‘em."

His brows arch, devilishly intrigued. "Yeah? Dangerous thing t'say t'me, darling."

“Don’t care,” you slur, leaning into his touch. “S’not fair you’re so hot. Who let you be so hot? Who said you could do that?”

His lips twitch, but there’s something softer beneath the teasing. He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, his hand trails up, brushing against your jaw with deliberate slowness. It’s almost gentle—if anything about Ronin could ever be called gentle.

“They must’ve known I’d meet you,” he murmurs, voice dropping to that low, velvet drawl that does wicked things to your brain. “Had t’give you a reason t’stay, sugar.”

Your heart stumbles in your chest. For all his theatrics—all his bloodstained glee and devilish charm—he means it. You can feel it in the way his touch lingers, in the weight of his gaze as it roves over your face like you hung the stars just for him.

You gasp. Loudly.

His head snaps up. "What?"

“Your eyelashes,” you say, in utter awe. “They’re so long. So—so pretty. Pretty, pretty Ronin."

He stares at you, clearly fighting the losing battle of keeping a straight face. “Sweetheart,” he drawls, voice syrup-slow. "Y’tryin’ t’kill me?"

“Yes,” you nod vigorously. “Gonna kill you with love.”

Ronin groans, but it’s not one of frustration—it’s that low, dangerous sound you know means you’re getting under his skin. He leans closer, enough for you to catch the sharp tang of metal and the faintest trace of citrus beneath. “Don’t tempt me,” he murmurs, words brushing your lips. “You know how I get.”

“You’re already tempted,” you point out, not quite as quiet as you mean to be. "Always tempted by me, Ronin."

His laughter is warm and indulgent. “Got me there, sugar.”

The warmth of his breath ghosts over your mouth, and for a second—just a second—you think he’s going to kiss you. But instead, his thumb traces the curve of your lower lip, dragging down slow, teasing, filthy. His smile is all wicked edges.

“Can’t take you anywhere," he murmurs, mock-scolding. "Y���gonna be like this all night?"

“I don’t know,” you hum, tilting your head in thought. “Depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether you kiss me or not."

Ronin freezes. Blinks. And then—oh, fuck, he’s grinning, all sharp teeth and mischief.

“You askin’ nicely, baby?”

“Please,” you sigh, leaning forward like gravity itself is dragging you toward him. "Please, please, please—"

He cuts you off with a kiss.

It’s not soft. It’s not sweet. It’s Ronin. Teeth and tongue, rough and greedy, like he’s been starving for you. You moan into his mouth, hands clumsily grabbing the front of his hoodie, trying to drag him closer—like there’s any space left to close.

When he pulls back, his lips are slick, pupils blown wide. "You’re a mess," he mutters, thumb brushing your spit-slick mouth. "And you like it."

You beam at him. "I love it."

“Jesus,” he groans under his breath. "Doped up and still got that mouth on ya."

"I could shut up," you tease, barely coherent through the haze. "If you keep kissing me."

Ronin laughs softly, low in his throat. “Nah, sweetheart. Don’t stop. I wanna hear every filthy little thought in that pretty head of yours.”

Your lips curve into a wicked smile. "Anything?"

“Anything,” he promises.

"Okay," you breathe, eyes going half-lidded. "I wanna sit in your lap and bite your neck until you’re all marked up. Like a vampire. Rawr."

Ronin chokes. Full-body trembles shake his shoulders as he cackles, one hand flying to his face like that’ll somehow hide his joy. “Oh, fuck—darlin’, you can’t just say shit like that—”

“Why not?” you pout, sliding your fingers up his chest. "S'true."

“Christ,” he mutters, voice wrecked and fond and utterly besotted. "What am I gonna do with you?"

You blink innocently. "Love me?"

The words slip out before you can stop them—unfiltered, honest, raw. It’s the drugs talking. It’s you talking. Either way, it hangs in the air, weighty and vulnerable.

For once, Ronin doesn’t joke. Doesn’t tease. He just looks at you—long and hard, like he’s committing you to memory.

“Yeah,” he says, quiet and rough. “I love you.”

Your heart stutters. "You do?"

"Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t, sweetheart," he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "Ain’t exactly the flowers-n’-chocolates kinda guy, but…" He shrugs, lips curving into a softer smile. "Guess you like me how I come."

“I love you,” you blurt out. “I love you so much."

It’s messy. Unpolished. But it’s the truth—simple as that. And for once, Ronin doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t hide behind his devil-may-care act. Instead, he cups your face—gentler than he’s ever touched you before—and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Yeah, Darlin,” he breathes. “I know.”

You smile drowsily against him, warm and safe in the arms of your devil.

[darkchemistryfanboy]

ok so this is my proposal for a Reverse Robins AU that's actually a Reverse Batfamily AU because Duke and the girls deserve some swapping too.

The typical joining the batfam timeline goes like this:

Dick-> Barbara-> Jason-> Tim-> Steph-> Cass-> Damian-> Duke

So let's swap

Duke:

both of his parents are severely incapacitated via rogue attack

since he grew up relatively normal, and has two parents he very much love and are technically still alive, he becomes Bruce's ward

the light to batman's darkness

overall very sunny personality but with some darkness one could explore

you can have his teenage angst phase start due to the awakening of his powers

no metas in Gotham and all that

so he goes to his own city and becomes his own separate vigilante

Damian

ok so this might be a little bit of a stretch but hear me out

he meets batman already trained and capable

and older than the current sidekick

also, his stance of killing may make him a kinda separate thing from batman

like, definitely not his sidekick

especially assuming this Damian is already a teen by the time he meets Bruce

it's not exactly the same, but near enough

his career ending injury could be related to the LoA

and instead of going hacker, he could go doctor

idk, think about it

Cass

ok this one's pretty easy

young child is found feral in the streets and gets adopted

she becomes the second signal or whatever name duke chose

and she is basically a really great child: appreciative of everything, actually goes to school, and so on and so forth

and then lady Shiva shows up

Shiva challenges her to a death match, Cass wins but refuses to kill her, since that's her mother, and gets killed for her troubles

now for her vilain arc it'd be a little different than Jason's

but I think it could happen

first she kills Shiva and steals her title

and when she does she has some epiphany about how some people will never regret the things they do

and she could become an assassin

killing the people who are truly horrendous, who she can clearly see are doing evil and regretting nothing

Steph

ok so while she would probably not grab Cass's/Duke's name, she would definitely be going out

and Batman gets PTSD seeing this small young vigilante going out and putting herself in danger

and tries to stop her

but Steph is too stubborn enough to actually stop

eventually he allows it but only on strict supervision

and maybe this is where she becomes the Signal III or whatever

at some point her father figures out who she is and while she's dealing with that she gives Tim the title

you could play on the fact that she's clue master's daughter and make her develop her detective skills

maybe enough that when Bruce "Dies" and Tim tells her of some suspicions she leaves with him to investigate

becomes Spoiler again and finds Bruce

Tim

ok so this one is kind of a stretch but just hang on

Tim, like always, is a fanboy

but since there's no Dick, he never figures out who Batman is

but he still loves the bats

and figures with all his money there's definitely something he could do

so he starts heading out to the streets, aiming to help

the others don't take him seriously because they see him as just a batman fanboy

so he has to struggle and try and fail and try again to be considered part of the team

he only becomes a part of the team when he becomes signal in that Steph fiasco

due to not being trusted, he starts a gang war, and Leslie fakes his death

he spends a year around the world, building his sense of identity and acting as a vigilante

and when Bruce disappears, he thinks something's fishy

and he keeps the name

Jason

this one fits way too well

Jason either never steals the tires or steals them quickly enough to never get caught

he continues living as a street kid, stealing, being a snarky asshole, and helping the alley kids when he can

he could become some sort of informant for the bats, as well as an opportunistic vigilante

as in never actually going out intending to stop crime, but ending up doing it when possible

he brings crucial info on cases, also stopping muggings, and becomes closer and closer to the batfam

eventually, being one of the biggest informants of the city, and an incredibly smart kid, he gets enough info to figure out the Bats identities

and Bruce adopts him

he decides to go out and save as many people as possible

he also has a very strong moral code

his father was forced into being a criminal by being excon, so he recognizes that sometimes you don't have a choice

he also is against excessive violence, since breaking bones, while it may not kill, it puts you in excessive medical debt and that's way too shitty

he and Cass argue constantly about this

Barbara

ok so this is the stretchiest one of them all

so try and stay with me

young Barbara, trained my a cop for self defense purposes, decides to go out and use her abilities for other people's defense

the batfam catch her, and snitch on her with her dad

while she is grounded, she manages to hack into their comms and uses this opportunity to try and annoy the batfam into letting her become a vigilante

eventually Bruce "dies" Steph and Tim leave, and Duke becomes batman

left with half his backup gone, and realizing there is no way he can keep Barbara sealed by herself with only Jason for help (Cass is an assassin, Damian can't go out into the field, and the rest are either Bruce or looking for him) he decides to make her the fifth signal

she's snarky at the fact they stopped her from helping people for so long mirroring Damian's attitude

Dick

this one is easy with some changes

the flying graysons get murdered later, with Dick being in his teens

instead of going full vigilante, dick joins the we are signal gang, and eventually becomes part of the batfam in a similar way to Duke

naturally, he names himself Robin

of anyone has some ideas to add or improve on this prompt, feel free to do so (respectfully), also if someone writes a fanfic please tag me, I'd love to read this story

also this was inspired by a post by @too0bsessedformyowngood , so you should definitely read that

[dragon-susceptible]

Author's note: shadowsign is completely made up, and has no basis in any real-life sign language, somewhat by necessity as I don't know of any real world sign that only uses four fingers. This isn't meant to be a perfect representation of how sign language "translates" to spoken. Sign languages are languages unto themselves and just like translation between verbal languages, there are going to be connotations and double meanings that are different from one to the other, so very "literal" translations often aren't quite accurate to the meaning the speaker is trying to convey (see: many people's much more educated analysis of ASL in the cartoon and how the speaking characters interpret it). I've just done my best to give a basic portrayal of that.

Twenty years of this duty had made Runaan a light sleeper whenever he was outside the shelter of his home hollow - or his husband's arms - and he woke enough to be aware of it when Ram handed the night's watch over to Skor. He blinked through the darkness at them, confused for a moment. Since the addition of the children, they'd all been alternating tents; the princes stayed in the tent of the first watch, and they traded through the other five as the night went on. This time Skor showed his teeth at Ram for even ducking towards the tent he emerged from. Waking up a little further to look, it was clear enough as to why - he had been in Callisto's, and the wounded elf was still asleep inside.

As Skor went to sit on the watcher's perch and Ram obediently backed off and went to sleep in Skor's empty tent, Runaan sighed deep and low and pushed himself out of his bedroll. He needed to talk to his friend.

Skor was silent when Runaan sat down next to him, though he glanced over to acknowledge his approach.

"Callisto?" Runaan prompted softly.

Asleep. Skor signed.

Runaan raised an eyebrow at him. "Your throat?"

Shouting over the water.

"Ah." Runaan shifted to face him, to see his hands better. "So. Callisto is worth holding a numbing spell over, but when I needed stitches a year ago . . ."

Skor rolled his eyes. "You were fine." He signed pointedly.

"I am." Runaan agreed, but tilted his head at his friend. "But that isn't why this was different."

Skor didn't deny it, just cast his gaze back down from the tree to watch the occasional sign of the tracker they'd picked up over the course of the day. They had finally caught up a bit after night fell, though they weren't too daring getting closer.

Runaan watched him for a moment and then glanced back at the tent, which Skor had shut firmly behind him when he left it. He felt Skor's tension rise when he looked, and gave him another pointed look in response.

"Say what you want to say, Master of Blades." Skor signed with a flat look through his hair.

Runaan sighed. "You are both very dear friends of mine." He said softly. "I will not ask for details, because I do not want them if he comes to me. I will not be your go-between. But Skor, as your friend, I have to ask, are you happy?"

Skor looked at him sharply.

"You need connection so much more than he does." Runaan met his gaze. "Are you certain you're happy with the distance he keeps?"

His friend blinked at him and then looked back at the tent, then at the forest. "You know me well, but he knows me better," Skor replied carefully. "You are right that I need connection, but I have enough. He gives me the space to be who I am now. Yes, I am happy."

"Even with the distance he keeps from you?"

Skor closed his eyes briefly and sighed. "He is afraid of leaving someone to grieve. I am afraid of leaving someone I love. We aren't . . . We both need time to change, before we can be more than this, Runaan."

"You are already more than just friends, Skor. We all see it in how you care for each other."

"I know." Skor said, a bit sadly. "But committing is too dangerous for us both. We aren't you, Runaan, or Andromeda."

It was somewhat true that he and Andromeda were the odd ones out. Most assassins married within the guild, fought and died together, or remained unmated until they had left it. The problem was that Runaan knew how dedicated both Skor and Callisto were to the guild, and knew in his sinking heart that neither would ever leave it. "Will you wait forever for him?" he asked softly. "If you had a chance to retire, to have the family you wanted when you were young-"

"That chance is long gone, Runaan. I lost that dream when I was sixteen." Skor cut him off with a gesture, and touched his unmarked throat meaningfully. "Even if I left, had children, I would never be able to speak to them, tell them stories, sing them songs, the way I wanted to back then."

"A voice is not a requirement for fatherhood, Skor."

"No. But it was part of that dream. My hopes have changed, Runaan. Callisto is worth waiting for. If they are never ready, I will be all right, so long as I have them close to my heart." He touched the braid that Runaan knew Callisto had placed in his hair. "Maybe one day, my friend. But not yet. We aren't ready."

Runaan watched his face for a moment, seeing only sincerity, a bit of thoughtfulness, and sighed slowly. "I will not pry further. But things have not changed between you for nearly ten years, Skor. I truly hope you both find peace within yourselves, because watching you is beginning to be painful for me."

Skor smirked at him broadly. "Now you know how everyone else felt when Ethari moved to the Silvergrove."

Runaan rolled his eyes, but Skor wasn't done.

"And how Rayla feels whenever he shows to the training grounds with a new scar on his jaw from your horns."

"Yes, yes." Runaan's cheeks turned faintly pink under his tattoos and he cleared his throat. "I take your point."

"Not as much as you take -"

"I'm not listening to this anymore." Runaan pointedly looked away before Skor finished the sentence, and stood up from the branch. "I just wanted to check on you and this is how you betray me."

When he looked back down, Skor's smile was a little more sincere. "Thank you, my friend. I am all right, I promise."

"Good. Will you wake him for his turn on watch?"

"What do you take me for?"

"A man very much in love." Runaan replied bluntly, and his heart ached at how Skor's smile faded a little and he looked away. "Wake me early for mine, if you insist on letting him sleep. Do not exhaust yourself for him."

Skor nodded. "I will wake you."

"Good night, Skor. Moon watch over you."

Skor replied with an old, traditional sign that meant Moon watch over us all, and Runaan dropped down from the branch to return to his tent. While it comforted him that Skor seemed genuinely content with how things were, he still wished for a resolve to this dance his friends had been doing. They seemed all right, but it hadn't escaped his notice that Skor never said he was happy. Callisto never did, either.

He couldn't force them into it, though. He just hoped providing what little counsel he could would be enough.

[hyperfixate-on-ninjas]

Subject: Jay Walker The Lone Performer

Mental State: Unstable

Power Level: Apocalyptic

Danger Level: High (What would you expect from the Master of Lightning?)

Abilities:

Lightning/Electricity Manipulation:

As the Master of Lightning, The Lone Performer has dominion over the power of Lightning.

Electrokinesis:

As seen with the Realm of Madness, The Lone Performer can manipulate the electricity of Technology to his command, possibly even manipulating the code within the Tech. Though being able to power and control an entire realm might be draining no matter how much of a power boost or how much training one might have. [Must have something to do with the giant mech behind the main stage] This can range to him being able to control robots and technological weapons to straight up manipulating AIs. Might be one of the reasons The False Prophet hasn’t moved from his area despite the Cloud Kingdom literally being a moving Realm.

Projection:

Despite the uncanny realism The Lone Performer’s form on-stage is a hologram similar to how my Photac designs were made with hard light. [Though the hologram seems to be made of a different type of hard light? Or am I just imagining it?] unlike the Photac projections the Lone Performer seems to simulate the very consciousness of Jay, to an uncanny degree. Almost as if it was an actual projection of him. [Maybe it is] Smaller versions of this ‘holographic self’ acts like a standard AI trapped in screens. Usually for advertisements and news reports and… [Who am I kidding he practically took over the whole Realm]

Psychic Electricity Manipulation:

[Personally I call this ‘Cognitive Electricity Manipulation’ but there was some disagreements with the name.] The Lone Performer has the ability to manipulate electricity through the brain, though from what I could gather he only does it to people on small amounts mostly to perform a memory wipe or alteration. Effects of this can be permanent from what I could gather…it’s really not recommended to alter the brain really…[To think he learned this himself though…that should mean he knows which neurons to target? If so I didn’t take Jay for a neurologist…Unless the Administration had access to knowledge of the brain…which could explain his previous memory loss.]

This also explains how he’s able to keep track of everyone who’s within the Realm of Madness… [Implying something is powering him because doing that with an entire Realm is exhausting, this guy has to have some limits.]

Nerve Manipulation:

[Wyldefyre called this one ‘Nerve Damage’ I think it’s funny.] Along with being able to control the brain he can control people’s nerves. [Feeling that for the first time was awful] He also has the ability to cause the nerves to explode.

[See! Nerve Damage] Bit of a warning this type of manipulation is quite painful to feel…unless of course you’re The Lone Performer himself. According to [REDACTED] Jay had high pain tolerance to the point he was able to control his own nerves…though he did imply he doesn’t know when he had learned that ability.

Heart Stop:

Can stop the nerves within the heart or the electricity flowing through it. [Cool] [Wyldefyre that could kill you]

Motive: ??? [Possible: Preservation, Control and Forced Compliance]

The Lone Performer has direct ties with The Emperor, possibly he’s following under his orders…though I find it odd…he doesn’t seem like the type to follow orders like that under normal circumstances…

Location: Realm of Madness.

Status: The Lone Performer continues his act. However one look into those manic eyes tells you he doesn’t particularly enjoy it.

Caution: Do not under any circumstances trespass into his lands. The Lone Performer has direct communication with The Emperor and must not be provoked. A Mini-Pix has already been stationed to observe the city, there is no need to intervene any further. DO NOT ENGAGE UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES.

OOC: I’ve changed the Zane files to match the liveliness of this file. Since the main characters are Sora, Arin and Wyldfyre.

Some headcanons are inspired by @pillowdrawz and @writing-hat

Prev

[horrornvnfan]

There are absolutely trials that distress my Reagents the most 🥲

Beckett is deeply afraid of Coyle, and Kill The Snitch fucks her up the most. It is the first trial she ever did so there's already the trigger of an inciting trauma so to speak, and having bad experiences with police officers and stations worsens things, red and blue lights, interrogation rooms, sirens, cigar smoke, cells, prisoners. Kill The Snitch is also specifically about punishing someone (Beck is terrified of being punished). Beckett has to kill a man, push him around herself, be only inches away from someone who is begging her not to do it, which is so visceral and invasive and forces her to reckon eye-to-eye with exactly what she is doing.

The mechanics of the tasks distress Beck too; starting a loud generator, calling Coyle to her location? Slowly walking around a well-lit hallway and pushing something heavy? Getting her hands bloody and touching the corpses? Beckett is not able to distance herself from the danger in Kill The Snitch. She is front and center and has no choice otherwise (she was born guilty and she'll die like it). In addition, Coyle roaming the trial as frequently as he does scares her shitless. All trials that take place in the police station distress her enough to consistently worsen her performance.

Brooke will never admit to being distressed by anything, ever, but the answer is Cleanse The Orphans. Like how Beck hates the police station, Brooke hates the orphanage. She'll say it's because it's boring, but the reality is that the imagery of children and mothers unsettles her somewhere deep inside that she won't acknowledge. None of the tasks are hard for Brooke, and she'll have fun attacking Ex-Pops, but the cribs, the children, the notion of caretaking, and Gooseberry ranting about saving the children-- it eats away at her. It's like this trial is making Brooke out to be the one harming the children, when it was her mother that--

Brooke is all for hedonism, for freedom, selfishness, and self-indulgence. She'd much rather the children dance and act wild than be brainwashed. The whole point of the trials is for Brooke to let loose, not enforce restrictions, even if it's pretend. Worse is dealing with Gooseberry in close quarters, hallways and tight rooms with rows of desks blocking Brooke's movement. Brooke can shrug off any injury, she gets plenty and dishes out more, but Gooseberry messes with her head, makes her slip up and get hurt when she doesn't want to get hurt, and Brooke cannot tolerate that at all.

Finally, if we're talking MK Challenges, Beckett reacts the most negatively to Eliminate the Past (do NOT rush her, ever, especially not in the most terrifying place in the world) and Brooke reacts the most negatively to Gather the Children of God (it's tedious, and children crying for their mother sounds so weak to her ears).

Hello Outlast Trials nation, potentially weird question I'm throwing into the void here but curious for those of yall with Reagent ocs.

Is there a trial your reagent reacts the most negatively to?

Like one that particularly distresses them to do? More so than the others since they're all meant to desensitize reagents to killing or doing awful acts.

[grimalkinmessor]

A lawlight thing I don't think people talk about enough is the sheer amount of confidence Light has in L's competence.

(I'm not talking about the handcuff bits either—Yotsuba!Light actually has far less confidence in L's abilities than regular Light does, because Yotsuba!Light thinks L is wrong, and that every move L has made against him has been wrong. Yotsuba!Light only regains his belief in L near the end of the arc, when Light himself begins to suspect that L might not be wrong.)

But those little inner monologues we make fun of all the time, the ones where Light basically talks himself in circles trying to the find the best, most non-suspicious answer? That's him acknowledging that L is incredibly intelligent.

Light, before even properly meeting L, was completely sure that L would think of every single possibility, every single response to every single word Light could spout, a counterattack to every move he could make, even if he didn't know exactly what they were. And yes, you could say that it's Light simply being overly cautious, but Light is so sure of L's responses in those moments; his sheer belief that all L needs is for him to slip up once, even though that cannot possibly be true (one hint of suspicion wouldn't have been enough for the Task Force I don't think, not even compiled on the fact that Light fits their profile) is honestly....kind of staggering??

Light had no clue that L even existed before the broadcast, and the only true shows of L's ability that he saw before they met in person were the broadcast (a loss) and the cameras (annoying, but a win).

As soon as they meet in person, Light is thinking battle strategy. There's a moment of "Oh fuck" when L reveals himself, and that moment is because Light is certain that L would've been a fox in his henhouse if he hadn't.

But Light, again, doesn't take the moves that he can't be certain of the meaning of as proof that L is stupid—he takes it as proof that L is smart.

And at every turn, L proves him right. :)

I just think it's interesting that Light very much respected L's intelligence, even as he hated him. Light's faith in L's abilities was pretty much instant and I thought it might be fun to explore :3

[nevermeanttoknow]

hes a vast avatar to me for reasons

[wolves-in-the-world]

Goran Višnjić as Nikola Tesla in Doctor Who 12.4, Nikola Tesla's Night of Terror.

image descriptions below the cut

—

[1] A still from an episode of Doctor Who, showing Goran as Nikola Tesla in front of Niagara Falls with an audience of men in suits and top hats, only their backs shown to us. Nikola is gesturing towards the waterfall as he speaks. He's a tall, slim man of about fifty in an old-fashioned suit with a tailcoat, pinstriped trousers, a waistcoat and watch-chain. He has a moustache, and brown hair parted in the middle, a few inches long and styled neatly with a bit of a wave.

[2] Goran as Nikola Tesla gesturing towards a device I don't understand well enough to even describe except that it's two corrugated metal cylinders and electricity is arcing between them, blue and dramatic, while he gestures like a magician. His other hand is on a lever, his face obscured by a starburst of blue light.

[3] A close-up of Goran as Nikola Tesla with a lightbulb in the foreground gleaming with warm light. He's looking off-screen and smiling slightly, eyes large and grey-blue, eyebrows raised, creases in his forehead and around his mouth. He's wearing a butterscotch-yellow tie with a wing or tuxedo shirt collar.

[4] A side-on view of Goran as Nikola Tesla bent over a workbench doing something with a tool we only see as a faint gleam of metal. He's bent almost double, intent on his work, a curl of hair falling down above his forehead, his coat gone and his shirt sleeves rucked up to the elbow so that his arms are bare and evidently hairy. The scene's dark, lit only by a candle lamp.

[5] A view of Goran as Nikola Tesla looking at a figure mostly out of view, visible to us only as blonde hair at the side of the screen. Nikola's eyes are a little wide, his mouth slightly open, making him look bewildered, and perhaps wary - I thought of it as his "okay, either you or this situation is bonkers" face. His thumb is just visible at the bottom of the screen, suggesting he's gesturing or fidgeting with his hands.

[6] A view of Goran in a crowded street, no coat, standing almost a head taller than everyone else and gesturing with one hand in a way that signals frustration or defensiveness, his eyes closed, mouth open as he speaks. A few bowler hats are visible around him, and a few of Nikola's companions - Dorothy, a serious-faced woman of thirty or so with tightly curly hair and smart clothing; the Doctor, currently a woman with straight blonde hair looking curiously past Dorothy; and just a glimpse of Yasmin in the background in a flat blue hat.

[7] A side-on view of Jodie Whittaker as the Doctor and Goran as Nikola both paying rapt attention to a glowing green mechanical-looking ball in a dish, with the Doctor pointing her sonic screwdriver at it and Nikola bending down to watch at the opposite side of the desk, hands folded together as if he's fidgeting, intent on her work. The Doctor's in a long light grey coat with a hood, incongruous for the era, and it's clear she'd be a lot shorter than him if he weren't currently courting back pain.

[8] The same scene as before, minutes later - the Doctor only visible as blonde hair in the foreground, Nikola's face transformed like he's realised something wonderful, eyes on the Doctor and leaning forward slightly, or still leaning on the desk. His mouth is open as he talks, his eyes bright, skin creasing faintly at the corners with a real smile.

[9] The same scene as before, seconds later. Goran as Nikola is looking to the side, no longer smiling but serious and thoughtful.

[10] The same scene as before, seconds later. Nikola is looking back at the Doctor and raising his eyebrows in a question at something she said, his forehead creasing, his expression perhaps a little doubtful.

[11] A close-up of Goran as Nikola in a room with warmer and dimmer lighting, his hair coming loose a bit as short curls on his forehead, frowning as he talks to someone off-screen. The angle exaggerates his nose, emphasises the lines around his mouth.

[12] A different view of the scene, zoomed out. Nikola is bent over a worktable beside Yasmin, a young woman with curled hair and a smart navy-blue jacket, and they're looking at each other as though discussing a problem, Nikola folding or rubbing his hands together. The desk of a mess of wires and oddments, lit bulbs in metal cages and what might be the odd green ball from earlier.

[13] Nikola and Yasmin in a very different location, dimly lit, with strange red lights in the background and a green light over their faces. (They're on an alien spaceship.) Yasmin is looking down at the floor like she's stunned, mouth open, and Nikola is holding her arm like he's just pulled her back, but his eyes are on something or someone else we can't see. His eyes are wide, his expression startled and openly afraid.

[14] Nikola and Yasmin still on the spaceship, blurry machinery behind them, but Nikola is almost level with Yasmin now and they're standing close, both looking at a third party off-screen. Yasmin's expression is one of distaste and a little anger, and Nikola's eyebrows are drawn down, expression somewhere between bewildered and worried.

[15] A different scene, different lighting - deep blue in the background, warm light on Nikola's face. It's an odd angle, his head ducked as though looking at something, his expression serious.

[16] A different scene, perhaps daytime with electric lighting, Nikola in conversation with someone off-screen who's clearly shorter than him. His hair's a little disarrayed, eyebrows raised and forehead creased, but there's something of a smile to his eyes and his mouth that gentles it.

[17] The same scene, seconds later, slightly zoomed in. Nikola's eyebrows are lower, forehead still creased and eyes a little scrunched, like he doesn't understand yet what the other person means. There's something tender about it still.

[18] A different room, darker, Nikola grinning while the Doctor is mostly off-screen, just a little of her hair visible, except she's raising a hand for a high-five that he isn't reciprocating. Creases are splayed out from his eyes, deep ones around his mouth, his nose sharp from this angle.

[19] A different view of the high-five moment, focusing on the Doctor as she realises he doesn't know to reciprocate - the high-five wasn't invented yet - and starts to lower her hand. Her mouth is wide open, teeth showing, somewhere between a grin and talking, and her body language is open exuberance. The creases around Nikola's eyes are still very visible from this angle, though most of his face isn't.

[20] A view of Goran as Nikola with his eyes closed as if he's blocking something out, and a look of forbearance and faint frustration on his face.

[21] A side-on view of Goran as Nikola, a shorter man in the background and the TARDIS behind them both, its windows glowing white. Nikola's expression is determined and a little grim, more hair curling messily against his forehead.

[22] A view of Goran as Nikola outside, trees in the background, a blurry blue-white sky and what might be yellowish grass. He's wearing old-fashioned aviator goggles on his forehead, where they're pushing his hair up so it's even messier, and he's looking down at something with a troubled expression.

[23] A view of the Doctor and Goran as Nikola in the TARDIS, the scene awash in electric blue and peach-pink, and no other lighting. The Doctor's leant over the TARDIS controls doing something there and looking back at Nikola, who has picked up some sort of contraption and is looking down at it, expression either troubled or focused. The light on his face is blue, throwing his features into sharp and unflattering relief.

[24] A view of Goran as Nikola in the TARDIS still, the lighting blue, the angle of his shoulders suggesting his hands are on his hips, and his expression now one of open joy. His eyes are large, his mouth open and smiling slightly, soft creases on either side.

[25] A view of Goran as Nikola on the street, looking with his head tilted at someone in the foreground - barely visible, except for the bowler hat. Nikola's expression is tolerant, a restrained smile with narrow eyes, and his hands are probably clasped behind his back.

[26] A view of Goran as Nikola on the street, now talking to the Doctor, only the back of her head visible. Nikola's in the same pose as before, hands behind his back, only leaning slightly towards her now, his expression warm as he talks to her. The creases around his eyes are back, and it's another angle that emphasises his nose.

[27] The same view as before, only now Nikola's ducked his head, almost like he's shy, or needs a moment to collect himself. The creases have gone from his eyes, but the smile's still there at his mouth.

—

[fruixtii]

did i ever mention my hc that lilia has insomnia