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batsplat · 3 months ago

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ok but what could be the motogp/casey stoner magical girl anime’s equivalent of rgu’s black rose arc……🤔

*cracks knuckles* okay admittedly I read this ask, had it jangle around in my brain for half a day and then read it back and realised I'd zeroed in on the 'casey stoner' side of the line and completely ignored the more general motogp prompt. since then I have had. some more thoughts. but they do come back to casey

so let's set out in proper scientific fashion and figure out what doing a black rose arc even MEANS. briefly summarising the arc, on the most literal level possible... it's the middle arc of the show, wherein characters proximal to the primary duellists get indoctrinated in a sham therapy session into fighting utena, a process symbolised by pinning black roses to their chests. she wins against all of them fairly comfortably in direct combat, managing to destroy the black rose and in doing so free the duellists. at the end of the arc, utena learns that the whole thing was orchestrated by mikage, a scholar frozen in time after burning down a lecture hall and killing the hundred boys within. he seeks to kill anthy, the rose bride, so that he can save his beloved mamiya by making him into the rose bride and achieving eternity. except his memories had been manipulated all along by the puppet masters of the whole show, anthy and akio, so that his memories of mamiya had been bastardised into what seems to be a version of anthy. mikage had been trapped in the school by false memories, has perhaps been dead all along, and had been used as a tool to bring utena closer to being able to achieve revolution. in the end, he too is discarded

which... okay, yeah, it's very hard to describe the show on a literal level, and I think in some ways the black rose arc is the one that's the most open to interpretation? icl it took me about three watches to really wrap my head around what on earth mikage's deal was supposed to be. which means you can also take the motogp crossover approach in several different ways... because of my own academic background, watching it the first time I kinda zeroed in on how the process by which the characters become black rose duellists is one of radicalisation/indoctrination into a cult. the process by which they are prepared to commit violence is built on humiliation, an experience where they want something and feel shame (or are made to feel shame) for wanting it. kanae is subjected to anthy's silently judgemental looks, keiko is made into a fool and an outcast by nanami, wakaba suffers a brutal rejection, and so on... it's not just that they have an enemy, somebody who treats them poorly - it's that a vulnerability is exposed that fundamentally threatens their self-esteem. it leaves them destabilised, unsure of themselves, with a fragile sense of self. when the characters go to seek guidance, they are quite literally being provided with a new sense of 'direction'. they are being guided towards finding purpose

the descending lift is a key part of the process, by forcing the characters to focus in on their negative emotions and let them consume them. the humiliation is strengthened, made more brutal - the voice instructs them to "go deeper" and bare more of their soul. they are expressing their vulnerability in front of a mirror that reflects their most twisted, painful desires back at them. subjected to the reflection of the negative emotions at the self... they are forced to make themselves weak in front of the voice, essentially debase themselves, and in doing so they strip away their own walls and barriers and mechanisms of self-defence. as the lift descends, so do they regress

the most obvious expression of this is the butterfly that becomes a cocoon (and then a leaf). utena is all about the process of becoming an adult, of achieving revolution as a metaphor for growing up, breaking the egg. but here, as an extension of anthy and akio's schemes, instead the characters are forced backwards in time. part of it is again this process of... well, ritually breaking down the characters, chipping away at their sense of self so that it can be reconstituted in a way that is useful to the order of the black rose. part of this is more generally about the show's themes of maturity and adulthood - the characters are being reduced, now governed only by their very worst impulses

it is at this lowest moment that mikage steps in to offer the characters their only solution. the only answer they have to somehow bring meaning back to their lives. all they have left to reclaim some kind of sense of self is to embrace mikage's vision of revolution. so you have a personal experience of humiliation, you have the character being guided towards a figure of authority who is supposedly able to help those in that kind of situation, you have a 'gradual' process stemming from externalised pressure to make the character focus only on their negative emotions, and eventually you have said figure of authority providing the character with the 'only' way out of the emotional turmoil and insecurity they are feeling. this route eventually leads to complete suppression of the self in the name of the cause and also... well, acts of violence. staircase model, my old friend! or if the staircase were a descending lift, I suppose

you may be wondering how I can possibly make this relevant to motogp and, well, *cracks knuckles again for good measure* let's see how this goes. I'm not going to make some big spiel about how becoming a rider (yes, even a vr46 one) is a comparable process of indoctrination or any of that. (there's some very broad comparisons, like how riders cannot choose to be assimilated into this strange and dangerous system but are instead sucked into it as children, following dreams that have been handed down to them by others... but I'm mostly gonna stay clear of that stuff.) what I'm more interested in is... hm, the emotional management aspect of sports, how delicate it is in what it requires of athletes. the eternal question of motivation, how you can bring yourself to put yourself out there and compete again and again - despite the eternal possibility of failure and, yes, humiliation. from here

'the challenge of managing vulnerability' is the key bit. on a very, very basic level, the process of growing up is about managing vulnerability, being able to manage your own emotions... there's a similarity between ohtori academy and the paddock in that they are both sheltered, closed off environments that send its young through unnatural, almost twisted approximations of growing up. their emotions are evoked by artificial scenarios, by competitions that aren't 'real' in the sense they aren't provoked by any naturally existing scarcity - but are instead elaborately designed shows designed to test its participants and, yes, reveal something of them. sports as a pure measure of human achievement is fundamentally hollow; it is only provided meaning by the ridiculously heightened emotions that are evoked by it. the characters transition into their new roles of duellists in a moment of vulnerability and it is only in this raw, unguarded state that they are able to fight

there's also another bit from a post I ended up not publishing in an exciting moment of self-awareness where I went, 'you know what, nobody cares about this', but it still exists in unedited form in my google doc. here (the post was about mozart + salieri, hence the references to music):

the idea here is basically that it's actually incredibly tricky to manage the exact right amount of self-awareness you should have as an athlete - and the emotions that come with it. you need to reveal yourself, to make yourself vulnerable, to be able to compete to your fullest extent. you need to debase yourself in front of a crowd, to accept the possibility of not just defeat but of humiliation, of the embarrassment of losing and how degrading that experience is. now, to stop yourself from actually going insane, everyone will need some kind of explanatory framework in their own head to process defeat. some of these narratives will by necessity rely on our good old friend delusion. young athletes cycle through victory upon victory and defeat upon defeat, often in ways seemingly inexplicable to themselves, which means their self confidence is fluctuating like a yo-yo on acid from generational levels of cockiness to the darkest self-loathing imaginable. some level of baseline self-belief, of thinking you will 'make it' despite all the odds being extremely not in your favour, is really kind of key to the process

the problem, of course, is that... so narrow is the emotional window that provides the ideal performance potential that it makes managing this window both crucial and horrifically difficult. maybe you can perform better when you're angry - or maybe you'll crash. or maybe you'll make a fatal error of judgement. you need hubris, but not too much. calm without passivity or complacency. joy might be the enemy of concentration. shame can motivate or it can make you retreat. your rival can spur you to action or paralyse you in your own inadequacy. and at the core, again and again, lies the concept of vulnerability. the moment you step into the arena, it is with the knowledge that it is possible for you to lose. competition is a moment of exposure, of revelation, of truth. this day may end in the gravel trap. you may humiliate yourself. you do it anyway - and to do so you need purpose, and to make sense of the defeats you need more purpose

plugging the autobiography passage again:

such a good passage, isn't it? to bring it back to the black rose arc... 'analogy' in the loosest of senses - you have moments of 'truth' in different forms. you have the truth found at the bottom of the lift, where the characters reveal their most painful insecurities - but it's fundamentally not a very balanced truth, is it, focused on the purely negative and self-loathing. they don't go out to duel in the name of passion, they are not duellists in the same way juri with her love for fencing is - which you can see from how they need to essentially steal the style of 'their' duellist to fight utena. there's no positive affect there. it's a power gained through vulnerability, yes, but one that is fundamentally self-destructive and exists in an ultimately fragile state of crisis. utena can free the duellists from their roles simply by cutting the rose; the student council members don't stop being duellists just because their roses are cut because this is something they care about for themselves. you can't be completely reliant on others to provide you with purpose in sports - some of it is going to have to come from some internal urge to compete, to win. no parental determination, desire, at times abuse can create an athlete out of nothing if their child is fundamentally unwilling (as ever, agassi's autobiography is very interesting about this). so while end of the world, in all the malevolence and abuse, may proffer a path towards meaning, towards revolution, to the student council members - it would be entirely useless if they did not still have 'hope in their hearts'. desire. the will to win. utena is able to defeat the black rose duellists with relative ease... she might not have entirely selfless motives, but her desire to protect anthy still stands up as being far more robust than a mere desire to lash out in response to humiliation. she wants to be anthy's prince, she wants to live up to this role - and in the end it means she will always be able to dig deeper than the black rose duellists

there's a few other ways we can torture this metaphor, while we're at it. "deeper, go deeper" is a phrase that to me is... very sports-coded, I talked about it in the mind games post I linked - going to the 'dark places' within yourself to win. to find release through the suffering, some form of revelation, reaching some kind of imaginary 'zone', to be able to perform at the highest level. only then can you achieve revolution... eternity, if you will. it's the performances where athletes dig the deepest that immortalise them, after all. but then, for all this talk of balance and some need for positive affect, of course there is a lot of negativity that feeds into the motivational process. the motogp twitter account posted a video today a few days ago by the time I actually post this... of our dear two time defending champion talking about how he primarily uses criticism to motivate himself

there's something ever so slightly comical about pecco talking about how, sure, he'd like to live by his 'go free' phrase and the associated ethos of just enjoying himself out there... but actually, he doesn't motivate himself through all that fun stuff at all. instead, he makes use of *checks notes*

reading something bad about himself

being told something bad about himself

making mistakes

when someone attempts to hit him in the mental side

well, that's nice! welcome back, casey stoner

am I saying pecco is going down the black rose arc lift to motivate himself? well, maybe I am. who's to say. a little bit!

you're getting yourself into the ideal performance window by basically... deliberately exposing yourself to criticisms, to degradation of the self, to the suffering of embarrassment and humiliation, dwelling on your mistakes, on those who do not believe you are adequate (or 'special', as in the black rose arc)... and, well, obviously I'm not saying the lift descent is a particularly healthy process... I'm admittedly a bit wary of the welfare implications of the sports equivalent. I actually had a long conversation last week before last about what essentially amounts to forms of digital self harm, this phenomenon of stars seeking out their 'haters', both within sports and other public fields... and, idk. there's 'being motivated by your rival being a dick about you' normal levels of spite and 'constantly subjecting yourself to what your cruellest detractors think of you' levels that seem distinctly unhealthy to me. without more context, you'd kinda hope pecco's sticking closer to the former type than the latter. casey also was a very spite-motivated athlete, perhaps somewhat in contrary to his assertion that he never got obsessed with rivals and didn't care who he beat. you see it with his whole 'ooh beating a spaniard at their home circuit' schtick, you see it with his 'yamaha rejected me so I'll show them' thing, quite frankly even his 'ah well mind games actually backfire because they motivate the other party more!!' line. he was constantly trying to prove a point to someone.... but was also extremely prone to self-criticism, to putting himself down, to being so perfectionist that it tipped over to being terrified of failing and crucifying himself for any mistakes. some of these things will have contributed to making him as good as he was - the same traits that tortured him also were what drove him to seeking perfection. sometimes, these roles of 'duellist' and 'athlete' may demand a fundamentally unhealthy emotional balance to excel at them

there's also something in how.... hm, mikage wanting to kill the rose bride so he can control eternity. the concept of 'eternity' is also big in sports, both in wanting to secure a legacy and wishing to preserve an un-preservable youth. inevitably, you will be replaced, they will move on from you, you cannot compete forever... mikage is frozen in time - and more than that, time is distorted in the ohtori academy. only a few like mikki even appear to notice it, constantly measuring it with his stopwatch as it continues to fluctuate around him. the uncertain nature of time is impossible to separate from how insular the academy is, from how it is cut off from the outside world, from how all point of reference is lost. sports does a similar thing in many ways, with the insularity heightening the stakes of this conflict, the occupants of that space living to different rhythms than the rest of the world.... the cycles of life and death, how rushed everything is, a youth that has to be captured and bottled before it slips out of your grasp, the calendar of races, of a travelling circus that touches the places it visits without belonging to it... valentino stretched out his career, even beyond a time when he was no longer competitive, due to his love for racing, his passion for it - a state of arrested youth, how he's been given the moniker of peter pan to go along with his own little band of lost boys. right at the opposite end lies casey, who achieved the truest 'revolution' early by leaving the cycle entirely, choosing to forsake this world that had constituted all that was of meaning to him - rebuking those who said he was wasting years of his prime, of the precious youth he still had one hand on, by stepping away. even though casey too had been striving for something unachievable.... the key thing about the 'revolution' is that it is something false, a mirage like the castle hanging over the arena, an ideal to be fought for without ever being attained. for casey, it was a quest for perfection that tormented him - so impossible is it for athletes to accept their own fallibility, their flaws. it can never be reached, because it is not an end point in and of itself. there is no definitive revolution that can be arrived at, no place of satisfaction, no easy way in which the power to revolutionise the world is granted to the duellists. all that remains is the process of working towards that revolution - that, in the end, is the only thing truly eternal

so, what does that process look like? you prepare yourself for the duel, you motivate yourself - either through positive or negative affect. athletes all lust after victory or fear defeat or both. utena ascends the staircase while the black rose duellists descend with the lift. for her, this also functions as a process of preparation, a repetitive yet effective way of bringing herself into the right mindset for the battle ahead and definitely not a way of saving animation costs

to me, it's key that those are stairs, and that there's a silly number of them. the black rose duellists are prepared swiftly, easily, with little effort from their part beyond the own horror of their emotions. they are not trained duellists and merely temporarily assume the mantle. utena has to work to even get to the arena - she has to put in an unreasonable amount of work, if anything. the demands to even be allowed to fight, to compete, are beyond what could be expected of anyone - and yet she willingly puts herself through it, because she wishes to fulfil an ideal she has been taught. the great athlete, the legend, the prince... it might work, she obviously does become an excellent duellist, for at least some of the time, she does manage to protect anthy.... but it's still one of the absurdities the academy is imposing on her, breaking her down as she no longer questions the surrealism of he world around her. she climbs the stairs because that is her role - and she readies herself for the battle she has been assigned

eventually, utena is allowed to both ascend and descend using a lift. now, listen, if you really want to get left field with this, you COULD say that her being allowed to ascend the lift rather than climb the stairs is... her no longer needing quite such an intricate method to emotionally prepare herself for the duel. she's integrated into the system now! she's an experienced duellist! she can get herself hyped for battle in a lift! but it's also a privilege she is being granted by the powers that be within the academy, which reserve the right to bestow meaning onto her, to single-handedly decide how worthy she is. and then, in the penultimate episode, the lift returns as akio attempts to break down utena. now utena is the subject, the patient, the one to be indoctrinated. she is invited to see herself as the princess akio wants her to be. she ends up re-embracing the ideal of prince (temporarily until anthy stabs her)... because that's what her power comes from. she'd never be able to find strength in the process of extreme self-degradation and exposing of one's own insecurities embodied by the descending lift. she needs to fight for positive reasons! some people are just like that, apparently

anyway, my pitch for how you'd black rose arc a specific period of casey's career... I reckon it's 2006, his rookie season in motogp at lcr honda. a seat that he'd had to scramble for, rejected by yamaha and not exactly high on options. he'd just finished second in 250cc to dani (if on inferior machinery) and was like.... well, he was definitely highly rated in the paddock, but perhaps didn't have the reputation of being particularly easy to work with. it's this version of casey:

as ever, casey was fast pretty much from the get-go. he had a very strong debut in jerez, exploiting a gap at the first corner after toni elias barrelled into valentino and finishing sixth. at the second race, after having been severely ill the week before, he rocked up like fifteen minutes before practise due to flight delays and ended up popping his bike on pole. that's also the race in which he had his very first battle with valentino, who came up to him to do the grabby hands thing on the cooldown lap. at the third race, casey came painfully close to winning - but scored his first podium of his premier class career

(side note, there is something amusing to how casey was yapping about valentino's disgusting yellow tainting the ducati when he's draping that australian flag of his absolutely everywhere he can, even in his rookie season. has someone maybe spent a little long away from home and feels the need to strengthen his own sense of self by plastering that thing on every available surface?)

anyhow - after that third race, casey's season went downhill. he crashed frequently enough to bag him the nickname of 'rolling stoner'

Like I had done my whole life I kept pushing and, of course, I kept crashing and I got slammed for it in the paddock and in the press, earning myself the nickname 'Rolling Stoner', which really bugged me. The pressure began to build as people questioned my talent and Ramon started to suggest that I was crashing because I wasn't physically fit enough. I knew this couldn't be the only solution, but l couldn't work out why I kept crashing. As a rookie I wasn't to know any better but people around me with experience should have helped me to understand the tyre issue. I would come in after a race saying, 'I didn't do anything wrong, I didn't make a mistake. I would know if I had.' But they would say, 'Well, you must have done because you crashed.' All the blame went to me and with everybody telling me it was my fault, I started to believe it. Ramon is a very good crew chief, extremely skilled at setting up a motorcycle, but I wish he'd listened to me a little more.

humiliation!! embarrassment!! others seeding uncertainty in him... being at the mercy of figures of authority who are giving him false guidance, but who he has to blindly follow. feeling unheard, beginning to believe what everyone says about him

he also had just a little bit of a temper back then, perhaps not completely familiar with the working process of top teams. but the crashes were not entirely his fault - they were (according to him) down to michelin seeing his potential but also exploiting his lack of status in the sport to essentially use him as a guinea pig for their new tyres. back then, this was how tyre suppliers handled things, and the whole thing was laughably uneven and unfair. whereas some riders like valentino were so successful and so influential they could generally lay claim to the best tyres (apparently with the exception of the actual title decider), others were at the mercy of the whims of michelin

Michelin had started to realise that I could do the lap times, especially on used rubber, so they started using me as a guinea pig. They would put me on a certain set of tyres for free practice and I would be happy as anything, right on the pace. Then on race day they'd say, 'You can't use that tyre.' They'd insist on us using a different tyre and then we'd find out on the grid that Dani or Nicky or somebody else was on the tyre I was planning to race on. Contractually we were obliged to use whatever tyre they decided on. [...] I kept pushing because I trusted them but there was some massive crashes which I thought were caused by the tyre combinations I was given at the last minute. [...] I started feeling like a crash test dummy and as the season progressed the situation got worse, to the point where I'd get angry and go off. I got a reputation as a spoilt brat. I am not making excuses but I was frustrated. Dad would come over to Europe to try to settle things down but the fact was I felt the tyres were causing me to crash. My confidence also took a hit and it took me back to the doubts I had in my first season of Grand Prix in 2002. I started to question myself a lot. Was it me or the bike? After a while I couldn't be sure. It was my debut season in MotoGP and I really didn't know what I was capable of. I'd proved I was competitive but the race results weren't showing what I could do. It started to mess with my head and unfortunately it seemed that my crew chief Ramon Forcada didn't have a lot of faith in what I was capable of either.

not only was this harmful for casey's reputation - it was also terrible for his confidence. as the autobiography passages describe, he wasn't getting good guidance about how to make the tyres work for him and inevitably the frequent missteps worked to erode his self-belief. after all, how could he know whether it was his fault or the fault of the bike? he told the team and the press these weren't his mistakes, but he wasn't believed... the paddock rejecting that he was to be taken seriously, enforcing a regression from the new 'adulthood' he had been granted by way of entering the premier class, but was illusory... which is where we get to the black rose element. it's repeated instances of humiliation - because there is something inherently humiliating to crashing. getting a nickname that makes it the thing people most closely associate with him. sinking into his own negative emotions, lashing out in anger at his own team, feeling the sting of embarrassment as well as frustration and self-doubt... and then, towards the end of the season, once again yamaha first seems to offer him a deal before changing its mind. another pattern he can't seem to break. casey has had plenty of self-belief in the past, not just dreaming of a title but believing he was capable of it - to the extent that he attempted to get to the premier class as quickly as possible, because he believed those were the titles that really counted. that's what he's here for... but what if it was all delusion all along, finally meeting reality?

which, yeah - it's those elements that make it very black rose-y to me. it's almost like... a touch of infantilisation, of refusing to take him at his word... he trusts these more experienced adults - in the same autobiography section, he talks about learning not to trust people just because they had a lot of experience. constantly choosing or being forced to listen to these guys who aren't giving him good advice, who don't have his best interests at heart, who don't have faith in him... and it chips away at him, it makes him angry and frustrated and will inevitably have contributed to some of the turmoil of his rookie season. he's being returned to the 2002 version of himself, a newbie in grand prix racing who didn't know what he was doing - and he doesn't know if he has a future in the sport. he wants to believe in himself, but maybe he can't. and it's just... creating this foundation of negative emotion that he would continue to use for the rest of his career to draw motivation from. the insults, the criticisms, the doubters, the haters... yamaha once again closing their doors before opening it a year later to some other young rider whose name escapes me. humiliation turned into a source of motivation. and once the process is complete, he emerges as the primary challenger of the champion (yes, yes, not literally, but vibes-wise obviously still THE big name at the time) in the following season

in the end, ducati gave him the call - he wasn't the first option, but he'd do. utena functions partly as a deconstruction of the type of story in which the ordinary wakaba would be the protagonist (ordinary girl romance protagonist surrounded by larger than life characters)... and the wakaba-centric episodes have akio posit that there are fundamentally 'special' people in the world and all those who can only hope to be special for brief, rare moments. in the meta-narrative of a show like utena, of course that is true, where some people have added significance by dint of being main characters in a story. in sports, too, there may be an unfortunate truth to it - an inevitability to the hand each athlete has been dealt. even if casey was publicly flayed and humiliated and figuratively descended the lift, like utena he was fundamentally still one of those 'special' people, whose natural talent meant none of his confidence was unearned. at ducati, he swiftly showed how he had been judged far too soon by the paddock. unlike the black rose duellists, he successfully challenges the champion. unlike the black rose duellists, he could never have been swiftly stripped of his status as duellist - even if there might be the occasional princess who attempts to trip him up and torment him. still, the bedrock of his determination in 2007, the steel that led him to a title, was ultimately established the year before. he was going to prove yamaha wrong for hanging him out to dry; he was going to prove the paddock wrong for ever doubting him. yes, the passion for winning is undeniable - but so is the spite. in seeking to achieve perfection, he found his motivation for the fight in his own way. and eventually, he would be granted the power to humiliate others... before eventually breaking free of this small world entirely

#something funny about how valentino accidentally raised a mini casey #neurotic spite-riddled wary of drama introvert..... where did it all go wrong. how did this happen #anyway don't you have to climb the stairs or descend with the lift every time you compete... does this even make sense #not to shock anyone here but I was always a descending lift kinda player. wanted spectators to be on the opponent's side. annoying child #//#brr brr #spec tag #batsplat responds #heretic tag #if a tumblr post can have a troubled publishing history this one does #i wrote it mostly on my commute but was like. super sleep deprived. so let it lie for a couple of days. scheduled it as per #and then realised?? it hadn't posted?? and it was just GONE. and like an idiot I hadn't backed it up. icl I was ready to end it #so I'd made a few bullet points from memory but was extremely not feeling it... this has happened to me before which makes it even dumber #but THEN I figured out the post still existed in the mass post editor drafts section. like a lil ghost. which?? what help is that #I tried a fix I'd read about by adding and removing tags. nothing. if you follow the link to the post obviously there's nothing there #BUT you get the number of the post. and if you combine that with the url you'd use to edit a post... presto there it was #ready to be backed up and scheduled anew. anyway if anyone has THAT particular problem. hopefully that should fix it #quite possibly the dumbest spiral I ever had over breakfast cereals #anyway i will make a tag for this family of posts at some point. i do enjoy turning them over in my head

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sucrose-soymilk · 1 year ago

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hadn’t really regressed in a While and i didn’t realize how much i missed/dareisay needed it until i had the free time and ability to do so over the last few days and i have to say. i’m feeling a bit better

#imagine that! the coping mechanism… helps!!! wow #Seven’s Small Thoughts #not tagging this as anything else bc this blog is really just a not-so-secret public diary #and im not really trying to gain any sort of following or participate in the community very much #i just wanna talk to the void abt regression every once in a blue moon y’know #i also feel like i don’t really belong in the community much/am not a Good Example of sfw agere since i’m very n/ s/ f/ w everywhere else #which is a double standard that i don’t hold others to but i feel like others will hold it against me??? and i’m just shy anyways #and not looking to interact. just wanna keep all this stuff tucked away in a side-blog #i also feel like a lot of the community likes to blog while actively regressed and i don’t wanna step in there as someone who isn’t #nothing wrong with it! at all! i just don’t have the capacity to since i go nonverbal when i regress. no thoughts head blissfully empty #anyways this wasn’t supposed to be a vent post let’s change the topic!#anywhooo what else did i come on here to say. oh yeah #i lowkey forgot how much regressing has helped me in the past until i was able to really indulge myself in it again recently #it’s so nice to just be small and hand someone else the reins and forget abt everything other than doing something you enjoy #maybe one day i’ll be at a point in my life where i can fully regress more freely and more often but for now i’ll take what i can get #i’m also excited because i’ve been thinking abt ordering a paci from this one specific seller #and yesterday saw that they’re dropping a new batch of fall/halloween themed ones today!!!#so now i’ve gotta make myself stay awake until 6pm so i can jump on it when they’re available #which is a small struggle considering my nocturnal sleep schedule but i will do it nonetheless #that crescent moon patterned one Will Be Mine #trying to decide between buttercup yellow and schoolbus yellow for the clip #i think i’m more drawn to the vibrancy of the schoolbus yellow honestly #eeeeeee i’m excited i’ve been wanting to treat myself to ordering from this shop for a g e s and im finally gonna do it

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todayisafridaynight · 1 year ago

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grabbing the ichi plush by the neck and death gripping it like 'good things are to come its all going to be ok good things are to come' like its a lucky amulet

#snap chats #i didnt even pre order the ichi plush but spiritually i did. good luck charm.#anyway rant time look away from here. Im At My Limit <- i say this every week #I DONT EVEN KNOW WHATS WRONG <- lying. my moms home #i just feel terrible again. i feel so awful i gave myself a headache from being upset #do you know how upset you have to be to give yourself a headache just sitting and thinking #that happened when i was taking a spanish test once but i think i was just so stupid my brain actually started to hurt trying to think #i also remember being sad as hell that day tho so....... maybe it was both #everyday it feels like im sad thats so fucked up and theres nothing i can do about it #ALSO IT'S RAINING AGAIN rain never promises anything good unless you're a plant #im working but i should have this done in. idk a few hours #and then its the weekend right.... there's no limitations for sadness though brother doesn't run on a schedule #unless we're talking about seasonal depression but we know what i mean #ew im supposed to go to that con tomorrow i dont even know if i want to go anymore #i just don't want to do anything anymore ig is the vibe #idk i have a journal to whine bout all this in ╮(╯-╰)╭ squeezing ichi plush is a mood tho so im still posting #maybe if i play a lil y7 ill remember theres good things to wake up for..#also i gave myself another headache OWOWOWOW STOP when will it end #wait let me be sad again because my dad said we'd hang out today or tomorrow #but i just know that's not happening and now im even more sad WEHHH no one loves me etc etc die #sometimes you just need a melodramatic teenager moment i think we're all due that right like once a month #ok i have to stop my head really hurts ☠️☠️☠️

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bare1ythere · 11 months ago

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Uh oh. I fucked up big time

#Somehow my math for my studying schedule was wrong? Or Something?#My statistics final is on monday.... and Im only halfway through the material #despite carefully planning a quota to study per day ??????????#I'm really confused and now tomorrow is gonna be fucking AWFUL. I did NOT want to cram for this exam #Ive managed to do all the premidterm material which is like....... cool.......... most of the final is on post midterm stuff #I know I had to skip One day of stats because I had a bad day but I have like 8 more topics to do this is so fucking weird #Yay hurray yippee! This is really really bad!!!!!!#shut up me

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creatorbiaze · 2 months ago

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We're no strangers to loveYou know the rules and so do I (do I)A full commitment's what I'm thinking ofYou wouldn't get this from any other guyI just wanna tell you how I'm feelingGotta make you understandNever gonna give you upNever gonna let you downNever gonna run around and desert youNever gonna make you cryNever gonna say goodbyeNever gonna tell a lie and hurt youWe've known each other for so longYour heart's been aching, but you're too shy to say it (say it)Inside, we both know what's been going on (going on)We know the game and we're gonna play itAnd if you ask me how I'm feelingDon't tell me you're too blind to seeNever gonna give you upNever gonna let you downNever gonna run around and desert youNever gonna make you cryNever gonna say goodbyeNever gonna tell a lie and hurt youNever gonna give you upNever gonna let you downNever gonna run around and desert youNever gonna make you cryNever gonna say goodbyeNever gonna tell a lie and hurt youWe've known each other for so longYour heart's been aching, but you're too shy to say it (to say it)Inside, we both know what's been going on (going on)We know the game and we're gonna play itI just wanna tell you how I'm feelingGotta make you understandNever gonna give you upNever gonna let you downNever gonna run around and desert youNever gonna make you cryNever gonna say goodbyeNever gonna tell a lie and hurt youNever gonna give you upNever gonna let you downNever gonna run around and desert youNever gonna make you cryNever gonna say goodbyeNever gonna tell a lie and hurt youNever gonna give you upNever gonna let you downNever gonna run around and desert youNever gonna make you cryNever gonna say goodbyeNever gonna tell a lie and hurt you

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⚠️ ROAD WORK AHEAD ⚠️

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________________ SPEEDING FINES DOUBLED WHEN WORKERS PRESENT —————————

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⚠️ ROAD WORK 500FT ⚠️

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🚧🚧🚧🚧🚧🚧🚧🚧🚧🚧🚧

🚚 🚚 🔩 웃 🧰 🕳️ 🪚웃 웃📋 웃 웃 🛠️ 🔨웃 🏗️ 🕳️ 웃 웃 🔧 🚚 🔩 🔩 🔩

🚧🚧🚧🚧🚧🚧🚧🚧🚧🚧🚧

⚠️ END ROAD WORK ⚠️

#I felt the need to make kt longer #i dont know how many empty paragraphs tumblr woll allow so im hand typing invisible symbols for every paragraph #i can't spam copypaste bx im on mobile so i have to painstakingly go to clipboard #paste #enter #repeat #so many times #enter. clipboard. paste. back. repeat.#the entire tome i was debating throwing in a rickroll at the end. decided to pur it in the middle #also working on algebra while doing this so it took even longer #why did i do this #what ks wrong with me #all of these tags were made during 5 second breaks while questioning my life choices before resuming enter clipboard paste back repeat #i kept accidentally pasting a rickroll & eventually I gave up on going back to select & delete it all #“you must have so much free time” actually I don't yet; i should be focusing on schoolwork #why am i doing this #i should have just reblogged without this & scheduled a buncha reblogs for the future #sighs. Too late now #schoolwork so boring i would rather do a different boring thing #this addition is short compared to the other posts in the thread but it took me so long #i have regrets #i give up. hitting reblog now

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always-a-slut-4-ghouls · 1 day ago

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Anybody else have an instance where their shoulder was bent weird while doing something and it felt like it was out of place but you could still use it and popped it right back but now it does that same thing every once in awhile and you’re starting to wonder if you dislocated it and healed it wrong?

#emma posts #is this a super specific instance or do I share this experience with someone?#also should I see my doctor about it?#it’s been like a year so idk what she could do even if it was dislocated back then #it might have happened even earlier but I just remember it really fucking up while I was building a chair #I was holding something in place at a weird angle and pop! but then I put it right back #and I never lost the use of it during that whole thing and it only took two days to feel totally normal again #but it’s happening a lot more since that day. just not often enough for me to know what does it #I keep doing these things that it’s like ‘should I see a doctor? should I tell the nurse that looks at me once a week?’#and then I forget about it until something goes wrong again #my body just has a habit of fucking itself up and then going right back to normal again within a day or two #some stuff is extreme enough for me to go to the er or something like that kidney stone #but a lot of other weird injuries or symptoms that go away right afterwards I just feel like #what could my doctor even do about it? and then I have to schedule an appointment and get a ride and all that. ugh’#I do need to get an iud and vaccines soon though #I’m pretty sure I’m up to date on most vaccines but I’m not sure about the flu #I did go in last year and get two or three at a time to catch up with anything I missed or needed updated #it was mostly updating stuff like tetanus #I don’t know if there’s been a more recent covid booster from the last one I got I think a few months ago #but when I get an iud I need to schedule an appointment with my neurologist and that’s also annoying and takes time and finding a ride #and getting a ride there isn’t even going to somewhere in the same town! my general doctor is in this town #but apparently estrogen levels can effect one of my seizure medications so I would need a dose adjustment

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pathologicalreid · 1 month ago

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diphenhydramine | s.r.

in which reader has a hard time getting to sleep at night, leading to Spencer's step by step instruction of which hormones help you fall asleep

margotober masterlist

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: smut (18+ mdni) content warnings: unprotected p in v sex, fingering, spencer infodumps while fingering you, restlessness, ambien, sex as a sleep aid, effective but not recommended, physiology, female masturbation, insecurity, reader doesn't pee after sex which you really should do, no clean up, but fanfiction isn't real. softdom!spencer. not thoroughly proofread. word count: 1.99k a/n: i thought i had this scheduled so imagine my surprise when i went to check tumblr and it wasn't posted. ANYWAYS. this one goes out to all the girlies with chronic sleep issues (me) and the person who requested this. don't like, don't read.

Your pillow was warm. Surely that was what was hindering your ability to sleep. Lifting your head, you flip your pillow over, resting your head on the cool side and turning to your other side.

Facing Spencer, you pull your arm out from under the covers, wondering if you should only change one variable at a time to see what actually helps you get to sleep. Huffing, you shut your eyes again, the usually muted traffic outside of your apartment seeming extraneously loud for this time of night.

You couldn’t put a name to it, but there was something keeping you up at night. You’d always had sleep issues, but your restlessness from the last several weeks was unprecedented.

“Angel,” your boyfriend says from next to you, reaching his hand out and placing it on your waist, trying to drag you across the sheets and into his arms.

Willingly, you move to his side of the bed, leaving space between the two of you to keep your body cool—maybe you were just too warm to sleep. “Did I wake you?” You ask, peering up at him through your eyelashes. He looks so ethereal in the diffused moonlight that seeps in through the closed curtains, the cool light falling over the harsh edges of his face.

He hums in response, opening his eyes and casually slipping a hand under your sleep shirt, resting his palm on your bare waist, “No,” he murmurs, even though you know he’s lying through his teeth. “What’s wrong?”

“Can’t sleep,” you tell him miserably, sticking out your lower lip even though he likely can’t see your face—his eyes would need to adjust to the darkness.

He shifts under the covers, gently skimming the pad of his thumb over your ribcage, “Have you tried Ambien?”

Your primary care physician prescribed sleeping pills for you, but you didn’t have any interest in taking them. “So I can end up at the Lincoln Memorial with my underwear on my head? No, thanks.”

“I would be very impressed if you managed to sleepwalk all the way to the National Mall,” he muttered, his voice clearing as he became more alert.

You sigh in exhaustion, “I’m multifaceted.”

Spencer kisses your forehead, “Go to sleep, multifaceted.”

“I can’t,” you complain, watching him through your eyelashes, “I’m open to suggestions.”

Your boyfriend groans at your impertinence, “You could try taking the pills that your doctor prescribed to you.”

Rolling your eyes in the dark, you tuck some stray hairs behind your ear, “Nope. Any other ideas in that big brain of yours?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you get kind of snippy when you get tired?” Spencer asks rhetorically.

Frowning in defeat, you consider going out to the living room to watch something on the TV. At least that way you would be able to let Spencer get some sleep. “Are you telling me that there’s nothing you’ve read recently that has any kind of information on remedies for restlessness?”

Next to you, Spencer stiffens, and you wonder if he’s cold. You turned on the ceiling fan in an attempt to cool down, “There are always new articles on sleep remedies, but none you’d be interested in.”

Your eyes flicker to the alarm clock on his bedside table, just past three in the morning, “I’m open to anything.”

“Orgasms produce some of the same hormones that are conducive to falling asleep,” he whispers, his ministrations on your waist coming to a halt.

Sighing, you flop onto your back, “I already tried that.”

He’s silent for a moment, “Were you touching yourself while I was in bed next to you?” There was a new lilt in his voice, some sort of shift as the type of frustration he was feeling changed.

Considering your options, you cross your arms in front of your stomach, staring up at the spinning blades of the ceiling fan, “Yeah, but I didn’t— I couldn’t—”

“You couldn’t make yourself come?” He finishes for you, the words that you couldn’t get out slipping easily past his lips.

It shouldn’t embarrass you, but you find your face warming under the cover of night anyways. “No,” your answer comes out as barely more than an exhale, “I couldn’t quite get there.”

With his hand now resting on your abdomen, your attention laser focusing on the way his pinky finger skimmed the elastic band of your panties, “Do you want me to try?”

Honestly, it wouldn’t be much of an attempt, like every other aspect of his life, pleasing you is something Spencer excels at. “I want you to go to sleep. I’m sorry for waking you,” you decline his offer.

He doesn’t move his hand, “Are you sure? I’m offering, if you’re accepting.”

“I-“ you falter, “I guess it doesn’t hurt to try, but only if you want to.” You were perfectly fine with going to the couch and wasting the night away in front of the TV screen. You’ve clocked a lot of time with the early morning newscast recently.

Spencer twists his wrist in response, looking at you in the cool light of the room, “I’m always interested in pleasing you.” He speaks to you quietly, retaining the reverent tones of the morning while slipping his hand deeper into your underwear. His index finger slipping easily through your folds, “Oh, you got close,” he whispers.

There’s no resistance as his finger breaches your entrance, already deeper than your fingers had gotten. Your mouth falls open, a small, choked gasp escaping your throat as your hand instinctively grabs at Spencer’s wrist, “Yeah.”

His motions are slow and precise, making sure you can feel every slight movement as he withdraws his finger before sliding it back into your pussy. Adding a second finger before his other hand pulls down at your underwear, haphazardly leaving them around your thighs before finding a rhythm. The peace of the night pauses only for the crude sounds from you, muffled by the blanket strewn over your bodies.

Gently, Spencer presses the pad of his thumb to your clit, maintaining the thrusts of his hand as he slowly encircles the sensitive nub, “Spence.” Your voice is a breathy laugh in recognition of just how quickly he can get you there.

There was something about having someone else touch you. When you do it yourself, you can hold yourself back or overthink it, but with Spencer’s hands on you—or in you, rather—there was nothing to hold back. “Sex can help you sleep for the simple reason that it’s physical activity, but it’s when you cum that your body releases hormones that can actually help you sleep,” his ministrations don’t suffer as a result of his physiology lesson. If anything, it all becomes more intense.

A sharp, high-pitched noise comes out of your mouth, the all too familiar knot in your lower belly coiling. And coiling. And coiling. “So, you can—” your voice cuts out as you gasp, “You can literally fuck me to sleep?”

Spencer hums a confirmation, “Sex reduces cortisol levels, and your body’s going to release oxytocin and prolactin,” he assures you, “and those will induce pleasant and relaxing feelings. All of which means I get to fuck you to sleep tonight.”

“’m close,” you breathe, closing your eyes as the pressure in your core nears unbearable levels. “Oh, Spence,” you say, your grip tightening on his wrist as his hands don’t let up on you.

His unoccupied hand reaches up to your face, gently sweeping hair off of your forehead in a way that makes you dizzy, his head falling to your shoulder before he kisses the worn fabric of your t-shirt, “You can cum, baby. It’s okay.”

He doesn’t want you to hold it in, so you don’t. Your head tips back into the pillows as the coil in your belly snaps, going off like a slingshot—sharp and quick.

Spencer’s fingers keep working you through your orgasm, slowing at the same pace that your orgasm does, the sheets sticking to your back as you slowly unarch, coming back to the surface as the pleasure of your orgasm drifts away almost as quickly as it came.

Every part of your body trembles as you fall away from your high, hooded eyelids staring over at your boyfriend as you catch your breath. Timidly, you reach down and push your underwear down your legs, kicking them off into the abyss of sheets to be discovered at a later date as you turn on your side.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispers, shifting under the covers as he pulls his cock out of his boxer briefs.

You hum, scooting yourself closer to him on the mattress, heat emanating from his body in a way that you now find welcoming, “You can’t even see me.”

Grabbing your thigh, Spencer slings your leg over his waist, opening your body to him, “Not right now,” he admits, “But I know you. I know the way you look right now, while I’m slipping myself into you.” His voice is low, but your attentions are focused on the feeling of his tip at your pussy, slowly pushing into you. He lets your body adjust, this isn’t an angle he usually takes you at, but you can feel every single ridge as he moves.

“I know the glossy look your eyes have right now,” he mutters, pushing your lower back closer to him, leaving his cock impossibly deep in you. “A combination of the orgasm that you just had and the sensations you’re feeling right now.”

You shudder at his words, tentatively rolling your hips against him, silently signaling to him that you’re ready for him to move. A soft cry escapes your lips as he withdraws his hips, pushing himself back into you while your cunt throbs around his length, “Spence.”

He grunts in response, finding a steady, gentle rhythm as your mind goes blank. You find yourself searching for that high again, “You feel so good, angel. So, so good.” His voice is low as he pulls your body closer to him still, “Fuck.”

“Spence,” your voice cracks at stimulation, overwhelming you as he breathes into the crook of your neck. You dig your nails into his back, trying to keep yourself from screaming as his hand slips between your conjoined bodies, swiping softly at your clit.

Spencer keeps moving, fucking into you as his movements grow messier and messier with each passing thrust. “You’re so pretty,” he repeats, seeing your features in the soft moonlight as your mouth gapes and your second orgasm quickly approaches.

Whimpering, you bite down on your lower lip, your leg that’s slung over him shaking uncontrollably as you chase your orgasm, “Oh my god,” you gasp helplessly.

“So good for me. Let it go, I’m close too,” he says, continuing his motions even as your pussy clenches around his length, the waves of your orgasm pulsating around him, sending him hurtling toward his own.

Stars dance in front of your eyes, and you let them fall shut. His movements come to a stop and you loose a sigh of relief at the realization that you’re exhausted. “Don’t go,” you mumble.

Spencer presses a soft kiss to your lips, holding you close to him with one arm while readjusting his underwear with the other. “I won’t,” he whispers, “You need to call your doctor about wanting new sleeping pills.”

You grunt in response, too close to sleep to form a coherent response.

“I’m not opposed to a more natural remedy, but I’m not always around at night, and I need to know you’re sleeping at night,” he tells you, his voice growing softer as sleep threatens to take him.

Humming, you nuzzle closer to him, letting your body melt into the mattress as you finally fall asleep. Staying cold was no longer a concern, staying close to Spencer was.

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clockwayswrites · 1 month ago

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Birds and Mice and Tea Parties 20

Masterpost

AN: B really was trying his best to protect Danny last time, he just was missing too much information. Poor Danny...

No reading over. We suffer and post at 2am.

It had been two weeks since the last rogue Wayne visit.

Danny hadn’t intended to keep track. There was no reason to. One visit from Cass and one from Tim did not a pattern make.

He tried to dismiss the observation. He had plenty to do; it wasn’t like he didn’t have friends. The bi-weekly trivia group would start meeting again soon. He also had a TTRGP session that did its best to meet around all that life threw at them. Tucker and him played online games when they could make schedules match and he and Sam talked when she was stateside. He even had regular lunches with coworkers!

Still, there had been something different about spending time with the family.

So no, Danny hadn’t meant to keep track, but he still knew it had been two weeks and a day. But of course he wouldn’t see the Waynes that often. Bruce was a very busy man and most of the children would have no reason to come to W.E. They had their own lives with work and school and being kids or young adults. The other visits had simply been flukes, as nice as the visits had been.

The subtle feeling of melancholy that had settled over him was ridiculous and he wasn’t having it. His mood was simply off because of the whole Ancient thing. The way it was affecting his health didn’t make feeling better any easier either.

Danny leaned against the wall of the elevator as he tried to catch his breath. He really shouldn’t be walking right then to get lunch, not with the way that he felt, but he hadn’t had anything at his place to make lunch with. He hadn’t had the energy to go shopping. He’d just go somewhere close instead of walking to anything on the other side of the park.

The natural reverb of the lobby assaulted Danny as he stepped out of the elevator.

He just had to get through the lobby, the street, the restaurant, back through the street, and through the lobby again. Then he could hide in his office and eat. Or he could hide in there and eat as long as Lucius didn’t find him. Maybe even Lucius would give him a break today though.

“Dr. Fenton…?”

Danny looked up from rubbing his neck.

It was Tim. Damian was at Tim’s side, flanking him like a little guard dog and scowling. Tim was frowning too. Danny immediately wanted to fix whatever was wrong.

“Look at that, a pair of Waynes. How are you two?”

“That is unimportant,” Damian said with a little sniff. “You are clearly unwell. I assume you are returning to your apartment to rest?”

“Oh, no, I’m just going to go grab lunch. I’m alright, really,” Danny said and put on the best smile he could muster.

Tim and Damian looked at each other in some sort of silence conversation. Danny started to edge away from them, thinking he could escape before they came to some sort of end. He really needed out of the lobby and its echoing sounds.

A startled shriek from the entry way cut off that plan.

Danny twisted to face the sound as he stepped in front of the kids.

Of course it was a rogue, what else would it be in Gotham? It was a rogue, but at least it was the Mad Hatter and his squad of likely mind controlled goons. He usually wasn’t prone to death and destruction like some of the others were. But still, Danny felt his metaphorical hackles rising. The kids were here.

The kids were here and sure to draw the Mad Hatter’s attention if he saw them. Danny stepped slowly backwards, herding the kids away from the scene. At least they weren’t far into the lobby.

“Back up to the stairwell,” Danny said lowly, trying to cast his voice behind him.

“Tch. We can—”

“The elevator, the back left one,” Tim said quietly but firmly over his brother’s protest. “I have a code to take it to a safe room in the basement.”

“If he kills the power,” Danny started.

“The elevators have emergency back up.”

“That’s not very good behavior for a tea party, is it?” the Matter Hatter shouted at someone.

Danny bit back a rising noise of anger in his throat. His fingers twitched to act. But he couldn’t. The best plan was to get the kids out of there away from any action.

“Yes I see, Damian,” Tim hissed. “We’re almost to the elevator.”

“Call it as soon as you can,” Danny said. Was there a reverb to his voice? It felt like there was a reverb to his voice. No, no, he couldn’t, he had to…

“That’s better! See? This is how you behave when someone invites you to a tea party! Now where is that little dormouse?” the Mad Hatter called. “I know I saw him come in here! With an even littler one too.”

He wanted Tim.

“Calling the elevator.”

“Another mouse? A rat? A cat?"

The Mad Hatter wanted Tim and Damian.

“Here mousy mouse mice… where are you?"

Danny would not let that happen.

“Oh there you are! Hiding back by the doors, of course he is!” The Mad Hatter said. The crowed parted in fear. His wide, manic eyes looked right past Danny and he grinned. “Get them. We have a tea party we’re late for.”

“Over my dead body,” Danny growled.

The Mad Hatter blinked at Danny like he just noticed him for the first time. His goons rushed past him and through the crowd. “Oh, who are you? Never mind, if death is what you want, we can make that happen.”

Danny couldn’t hold back the chortling laughter. “See, that’s where you have a problem you don’t even know you could have.”

“And what is that?”

“You couldn’t handle my dead body,” Danny said just as the first goon reached them.

Danny stepped forward. He ducked under the swing of the punch and used the momentum to spin the goon around. With a push of his ghostly power, he sent the attacking goon careening into the next one and they both went tumbling.

“Danny, it’s here!” Tim shouted.

Not turning his back to the attackers, Danny stepped backwards into the elevator. Tim slammed a button and the doors basically snapped closed, much faster than they should. Danny was left staring at the polished metal surface of the elevator. Luminous green stared back at him. Soft black feathers dotted his temples. His fingers ended in talons. And he could feel it.

He could feel the skin on his back started to split.

Wings.

#dp x dc #spirit halloween ship #danny/bruce #birdritch

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cherryredcheol · 4 months ago

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"baby"

tldr: all the way seungcheol uses your nickname a/n: this has been written and waiting to be posted forEVER but i'm finally ready (i am down horrific for this man)

seungcheol x reader fluff wc: 1k

reprimands: to make sure you know he's yours

“baby.” his tone is firm, controlling. he thought it would be a good idea to invite you to his shoot today, thinking you'd like to see him in the expensive clothes he was always put in for cover shoots. what he didn’t account for was you pouting over the friendly makeup artist assigned to him for the day.

“don’t pout. you know i only have eyes for you.” he was trying to reason with you but his patience was wearing thin. you were being difficult on purpose and he couldn’t really do anything about it given the need to protect his image and act as professional as possible. you just huffed, frown settling deeper on your face.

“you’re being a little unreasonable,” based on the look you gave him that was the completely wrong thing to say to you. he turned when he heard them call for him from set. it was time to shine. he walked over to where you sat, bending down to meet your eyes, “if you’re good for the rest of the day i’ll reward you when we get home, baby.”

whines: when he doesn’t have your attention

“baby,” he could hear the pathetic tone in his voice but he just couldn’t help it. he’d had a long day of meetings and listening to presentations, the only thing keeping him going was knowing that you would be waiting at home for him when it was all over. you’d look at him with your soft eyes and dote on him all weekend, just how he liked. now here he was, waiting to be coddled and you were too busy giggling at your phone to spare him a glance.

“what could be so entertaining on the phone that you can’t spend time with me?” he was laying it on thick but he was desperate at this point, especially when his question was only answered by another tittering laugh that was still not directed at him. at this point, he was fed up. he craned his neck to see what had you all giggly.

“oh my god. you’re kidding me!” he couldn’t believe his eyes. playing on your phone was an edit of him from the most recent gose episode. the clip wasn’t even his best moment in the episode, but he did look quite handsome that day so he can’t blame you for watching. he still really wanted to be fussed over, “seriously, put your phone down. i’m much cuter in person, baby.”

cat-calls: as you walk by in his favorite dress

“baby!” he called out to you, dragging out the ‘y’ sound. you paused, stopping in the middle of the bedroom as you crossed from the closet to the ensuite bathroom. he was seated on the bed, tying his shoelaces when he caught sight of you in the soft pink sundress he loved so much. you looked at him with big, curious eyes, wondering why he had stopped you in the middle of getting ready for your date in the park.

“spin for me.” he got up from the bed and reached for your hand. he held it up, above your head and twirled you in a circle, eyes taking in every inch of you. he was excited to have a picnic with you but now he was considering scrapping the whole thing to stay behind. seeing you in a sundress always did something to him.

“you’re so beautiful,” he was full of compliments, making sure you knew exactly how beautiful he thought you were. he considered himself a lucky man every day he got to spend with you. he supposed his desire for you could wait a few hours. he should spoil you rotten with a date in the park, before spoiling you in bed. “sure you really want to go out, baby?”

admires: because he’s proud of you

“baby,” his voice is soft, eyes even softer as he cups your face. he’d just gotten home from his schedule and you’d greeted him at the door, immediately sharing the news of your promotion with him. it was a small, mostly lateral move, with a tiny raise but you were still excited to share the news with him. he kisses you deeply, trying to convey his pride to you wordlessly.

“i should tell my mom. she’s going to be so happy for you.” this made you blush. you knew he’d be proud but you didn’t really expect him to be so happy that he’d want to tell everyone. it wasn’t even a big deal. you begged him not to call his mom right that moment and instead conceded to a spontaneous celebratory dinner at your favorite restaurant.

“i’m so proud of you,” this was now the sixth time he told you this since you shared the news with him, the second on the car ride to the restaurant. you blushed every time he said it, and had asked him to stop, to which he refused. in fact, he had doubled down. he threatened to have a cake brought to the table at dinner if you tried to silence him again. at a red light, he fished his phone out of his pocket, handing it over to you, “call my mom, for real. i want us to share the news with her. she’s going to be so proud, baby.”

barks: on accident

“baby!” the name came out harsh, frustrated. you’d never heard it that way before; this time, it wasn’t even directed at you. the dressing room fell silent and you watched the blush creep up his neck. the boys were never going to let him live this down. he turned from you, the conversation you were having before he went on stage now gone from his mind.

“sorry, i meant to say ‘seungkwan’”. he was trying to save the situation but it was awkward. not only had he tried to reprimand his members but he’s accidentally used your name to do it, embarrassing himself in front of his members, staff, and you. what was once a bustling hub of movement and concert preparation came to a screeching, uncomfortable halt at his faux pas.

“we know you like seungkwan, but we didn't know you liked him that much, hyung.” jeonghan broke the tension saving his leader and ushering in some polite laughter. the commotion slowly began again and he turned back to you. his face looked normal, probably due to the makeup, but his neck was bright red. he was flustered, “they’re never going to let this go, baby.”

#seventeen #seventeen imagines #svt #seventeen fluff #svthub #seventeen scenarios #svt x reader #seventeen seungcheol #seungcheol imagine #choi seungcheol #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol fluff

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babygorewhore · 21 days ago

Text

Home Care

Dr. Charlie Mayhew x fem reader.

Charlie Mayhew has to stay over to make sure his patient stays safe. But he’s unable to contain his desire after learning how men have treated you.

This is written for my love @cxrrodedcoffin I hope you enjoy my darling!!! Thank you so much to @xxbimbobunnyxx for helping me out with this love letter!!!!

Warnings! Obsessive behavior! Slight stalking! Oral! Fem receiving! Finger sucking! Bondage! Spitting! Fingering! Spanking! Degrading! Praise! Unprotected sex! Bulge! Rough (?) sex! Incorrect medical terms because I’m not in that field lol.

“I’m not thrilled about being stuck here with you either.” Charlie told you as you examined your nails.

The Doctor leaned against the wall as he watched you. He was giving your sick grandfather overnight care. He admitted to himself that he used to be an asshole in high school. Making fun of you for going into the family inherited business. A mortician.

Charlie just wanted your attention. He always wanted your eyes on him. That’s why he posted pictures of himself at the gym despite his filled schedule. Being a Doctor gave him the opportunity to save lives. Yet, he couldn’t save himself from his obsession with you.

Your apartment had elements of the Macabre and pieces of the world you honored with work. But you still had a brightness to your smile. It wasn’t innocence, you’d had some experience in the dating world.

You always took care of others. A little angel sent above. You didn’t fully forgive him for the past and he didn’t blame you. He worried he’d scare you off if you saw the darkness in him.

Charlie sometimes followed you home. Just because he had to make sure you were safe. Coming into your bedroom while you slept was taking it a bit far a few weeks ago but he just had to see you. Charlie tried to act as if he didn’t know where anything was when he came in.

Your thighs were exposed, the pajama shorts hugging the curves of your hips and the soft shirt exposed the lower part of your stomach. Charlie swallowed, moistening his dry mouth and neared you. He removed his uniform coat. So he’d look like a normal man.

Your fingers tapped away at your screen, indicating that you were texting someone. Angrily.

“What’s wrong?” He questioned. He half expected you to ignore him but instead you sighed.

“I’m sick of this guy. He treats me like shit. I’m telling him off.”

Charlie’s hackles raised at your answer. “How’s he treating you like shit?”

“Guys only care about getting off and leaving. I put up with it too long. But I was lonely.” You rolled your eyes and he blinked rapidly.

“You mean, he just…fucked you and left?” Charlie bit out the sentence, unable to hide the jealousy and you shrugged. “Did he even make you cum?”

His bold words made you sit up straight but he didn’t take them back. You snorted and set your phone down. You crossed your ankles together.

“Nope. Men just want to stick it in and get theirs.”

Charlie’s jaw clenched and he trembled. He adjusted the stethoscope hanging on his neck. “No. Men don’t. Little boys do.”

You rolled your eyes and applied chapstick. You moved your lips and set it back down. “What would you know about that? If you weren’t in college, you were working. Or being a dick.”

“You think I don’t care about making a girl feel good?” He breathed heavily as you positioned yourself further in the chair. Your hands providing balance in the middle and your fingers spread.

“I mean you’re good at your job. But women? Not so much.” Your blatant disregard and ignorance to his activities made him feel crazy.

“You realize I have a in depth knowledge of the human body. I know where to touch. How much pressure to use and how long.” Charlie tugged his lower lip between his teeth as he reached down. Cupping your chin. His thumb swiped your mouth and you parted them.

You sucked his digit, tongue rolling around and he snapped. Charlie hauled you off the chair, tossing you on the plush mattress.

“All those fucking weeks watching you. Trying to keep myself under control,” He groaned as you parted your legs, letting him settle between them. He felt the dampness in your center on his stomach.

“You were stalking me?” You shrieked but a small smirk curved. Charlie snarled and tapped your cheek.

“Open your mouth.” You did, instinctively letting your tongue slightly stick out and he let drool fall past his lips. “God, you’re already obeying me? Like a good little patient?”

Charlie sat up, taking off his shirt and his muscular form highlighted by the LED lights. You looked up at him with half lidded eyes as he took your hand, bringing your fingers to his mouth. Charlie sucked them softly, letting his other palm knead your chest. You arched your back as your pussy fluttered.

His thighs caged you in and he let go of your hand. Your fingers fell out of his mouth and Charlie unfastened his belt. You inhaled sharply as he tied it around your wrists, pinning them to the headboard of the bed.

“You’re gonna lay there and take it. That sweet little cunt is gonna leak from how good this will feel.”

A sinister darkness flickered in his eyes as you mewled at his words. Charlie tugged off your shorts, thick digits snapping the waistband of your panties and he peeled them off. He admired the lace of the fabric and was mesmerized by the sticky middle.

You were so turned on that it hurt. Charlie shoved his pants down, chuckling at the eager sounds you made. His cock slapped his inner thigh. He lowered himself down, his stomach hitting the bed and cupped your ass.

He smelled your scent, his nose nudging your center and groaned. “Selfish little angel. Keeping this pussy from me. Knowing I won’t be able to get enough.”

Charlie laid his tongue flat against your slit, grunting at the taste and he focused kitten licking your clit. His motions were firm and you whimpered. His hold kept you from moving too much, even laying his forearm across your pelvis. He spread your folds apart, exposing more sensitive areas and plunged his tongue inside your needy hole.

You were on fire, jerking from pleasure and Charlie’s dick throbbed. His other hand drifted to find the discarded panties and wrapped them around his shaft. Lazily pumping because he was solely focused on the pretty girl underneath him.

He sucked your clit, gently nipping it and returned to leisurely slurping like an ice cream cone. The heels of your feet dug into his shoulders and he nodded. “Mmm, needed this didn’t you, baby doll? That why you’re so tense all the time?”

You shuddered as he pressed two fingers in you, hitting an even deeper spot and you were almost hysterical. Charlie wanted to make you cum right then and there but he forced himself to hold off for now. He continued finger fucking you and lifted up. Meeting your lips in a messy kiss, making you share the wetness coating his mouth and chin.

Charlie kissed you hard, making your vision go white and ripped himself away. He growled and took hold of his dick. His red tip running against your clit, smearing the arousal and a sadistic pleasure burned him. He loved seeing you whine and cry.

“You want it? Beg.”

“Please fuck me! Please, please, please!” You cried out and he clicked his tongue in ridicule.

“Oh come on, sweetheart. You can do better. That slutty mouth can beg harder than that.” Charlie laughed as you let out chants similar to a prayer.

He slammed into balls deep and you silently went slack for a few seconds. His size was huge and overwhelming despite the prep. You panted and shook your head.

“It’s not gonna fit all the way-“ You said tightly but Charlie jerked his jaw.

“We’re not playing that game. You wanna play dumb and pretend you don’t like how much it hurts? But I’ll fucking make it fit,” He flipped you over on your knees, twisting your arms so your still tied wrists weren’t straining.

Charlie shoved your chest down, slapping your ass so hard it echoed. He pressed into your pussy again, letting his big hands hold your hips as he thrusted into you.

You sounded fucking filthy. Moaning, sobbing and sweating against the pillow as he railed into you. You curled inwards as your orgasm approached you but he shook his head.

“Where you going?” Charlie spanked you harder and separated your ass. He thrusted deeper and felt your slick dripping on his cock.

“Oh god, fuck! F-fuck!” You exclaimed and wailed. He grabbed the back of your hair, yanking you back and caught your lips.

Charlie sucked your pulse point as you bounced on it, laying your head back as you creamed on his dick.

“Bouncing on my cock like the dirty whore you are. You gonna let me fill you up? You want me to cum in your greedy pussy?” He asked in your ear and you moved faster.

Charlie squeezed your tits and let his hand fall to your stomach. He felt the bulge and spilled inside you. Cum burst in your cunt and your second release hit you. You both grunted and you felt tears streaming down your face.

He saw you weren’t going to slow down and twitched from overstimulation. Charlie pulled out, feeling your fluids fall onto the sheets and brought his face back to your pussy.

“You’re gonna let me eat it out of you, huh? God you’re so disgusting.” He followed his statement with shoving his face against you. You had to bite down on your arm to keep from screaming but he wasn’t happy with that.

“No, no, you wanna scream? Then do it.” Charlie ordered. “Or am I gonna have to fuck it out of you again?”

Tagging: @xxbimbobunnyxx @cxrrodedcoffin @userchai @stillwjk-channie-lixie @fear-is-truth @starkeysprincess @starkeysbabygirl @cameronsprincess @oceanblvd111 @titsout4nicholas @webbluvrsugar @glossyseraphim

#charlie #charlie mayhew x reader #charlie mayhew x y/n #charlie mayhew #Charlie Mayhew smut #father charlie mayhew #father charlie x reader #father charlie smut #father charlie grotesquerie #nicholas alexander chavez #Nicholas Alexander Chavez smut #Nicholas Chavez #grotesquerie #grotesquire smut #dr charlie mayhew #dr Charlie Mayhew smut

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theonottsbxtch · 1 month ago

Text

THE OTHER GUY PT.4 | FC43

part one | part two | part three |

an: only a couple more to go out! lmk if there is anything in particular you'd like to see and if you'd like to be added to my tag list :)

ynpiastri

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant, landonorris and 34,244 others

city boy summer, can't keep the hoes away

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logansargeant: you are not a city boy

ynpiastri: or am i?

oscarpiastri: i, for the record am happily taken and will not engage in this tomfoolery

ynpiastri: @/lilyznimer i will pay you double what he's paying you to date him if you break up with him

userone: girl we all know franco is there too.

When you’d woken up this morning, the last thing you’d expected was a pounding at your door. It couldn’t have been housekeeping because you had it scheduled for 3 p.m., and it couldn’t have been a crazy fan because you made sure never to post near your door, ever. So when you opened it and were attacked by a flurry of blonde hair, your heart dropped. As per usual, whenever you saw the blonde mess, you knew your sheepish brother wasn’t far behind.

It was a welcome surprise, though. While you were enjoying the peace of the resort, it had been a while since you’d seen Logan or Oscar.

After catching up over breakfast and hearing their latest stories from home, you all had agreed to spend the day at the beach. The morning had been light and easy, filled with laughter and jokes, mocking how Oscar couldn’t tan and how Logan always managed to find an American flag, no matter what country he was in.

“You’ve been quieter than usual,” Logan said, nudging you with his elbow. He grinned, a knowing look in his eyes as he adjusted his sunglasses. “What’s on your mind?”

You shake your head, trying to brush it off. “Nothing, just thinking.”

Oscar, who was stretched out beside you with his arms behind his head, let out a chuckle. “Thinking about what?” Tilting his head to the side, he gave you a teasing glance. “You’ve been acting weird since you got here last week.”

There was no escaping it now. Of course it was going to be noticeable that you’d been quieter, but that was because the thoughts swirling around in your head weren't exactly ones you were ready to share. Still, you couldn’t ignore the topic forever.

“I don’t know,” you started, the words slow and careful. “I guess… I’ve stopped looking at him with so much hatred.” The words were out before you could even clarify who he was.

It felt strange admitting it out loud. You’d spent so long disliking him—publicly, even. But now? After spending more time here, after getting to know him in ways you hadn’t expected… things had changed.

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “Wait. Are we talking about who I think we’re talking about?” He leaned in, clearly intrigued.

Glancing out at the ocean, you avoided eye contact with either man. “Yeah.”

Logan stayed quiet for a moment, and you almost regretted your words. Staying quiet for a beat longer, he sighed. “You know, he never did anything wrong.”

Turning around to face him, surprised, you lifted your sunglasses to look at him properly.

“He fought his way into the sport the same way I did,” Logan continued, his tone firm but not harsh. “You can’t hate him for something he can’t control.”

You felt your chest tighten. He was right. Deep down, you’d always known that. Franco didn’t choose to replace Logan—it wasn’t personal. He was just doing what any of them would do. Fighting for a place in a sport where nothing is guaranteed.

“I know,” you admitted softly. “It’s just… hard. I wanted to blame someone.”

Oscar sighed, giving you a sympathetic look. “We get it. But honestly, you’ve got to let it go. Holding on to that anger—it’s not going to do you any good.”

For a second, you wanted to laugh because you couldn’t recall the last time in your life Oscar and Logan had agreed on something.

Just as you were about to say something else, you noticed movement in the distance. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him— Franco —walking along the shore. His head turned in your direction, and when his eyes met yours, he lifted his hand in a casual wave.

At first you thought he may be waving to Oscar, but when a shy smile graced his lips your heart skipped a beat. He wasn’t not doing it for show, not trying to get under your skin. It was just a wave. Simple, friendly.

Before you could think too much about it, you waved back. And then, almost without realising it, a small smile tugs at your lips.

Both Oscar and Logan caught the interaction and raised an eyebrow, though Oscar didn’t say a word. Logan nudged you again, his voice teasing. “Well, look at that.”

You rolled your eyes at him but can’t help feeling a little lighter. Maybe you really were wrong about him. Maybe there’s more to him than the guy who replaced Logan.

You were still thinking about that smile when Logan gave you a sly nudge. “So… are you going to talk to him?”

Your head whipped around to his eyes wide. “What? No! Absolutely not.”

Oscar laughed, clearly enjoying your sudden panic. “Why not? You’ve already smiled at him, waved and everything. Just go over there and talk to the guy. It’s not like he’s some stranger.”

You shook your head, feeling your face heat up. “It’s not that easy! I can’t just walk up to him like it’s nothing.”

“Oh, come on,” Logan said, rolling his eyes playfully. “You’ve been trash-talking him for months, and now you’re scared to ask him out for a drink? Seriously?”

Opening your mouth to protest, your face flushed as no words came out. You were flustered, and they both knew it.

Oscar sat up, shrugging nonchalantly. “What’s the worst that could happen? He says no? So what. But I don’t think he will.”

You glanced back towards where Franco was standing, now leaning against the railing, gazing out at the ocean. He looked relaxed, completely unaware of the internal chaos you were going through just a few feet away.

Your heart was pounding, and you felt a nervous knot in your stomach. “I can’t just… I mean, what would I even say?”

Logan gave you an encouraging smile. “Just be yourself. Ask him if he wants to grab a drink tonight. You’ve already softened up to him, right? This is your chance.”

You hesitated, glancing between Oscar and Logan, who both gave you looks that said go on, you’ve got this.

Finally, you exhale, standing up and wiping the sand off your legs. “Fine. I’ll do it. But if this goes horribly wrong, it’s your fault.”

Oscar grinned at you. “We’ll take full responsibility. Now go.”

With your heart still racing, you took a deep breath and started walking across the sand toward him. Each step feeling heavier than the last, your mind racing with all the things you could say—or worse, all the ways this could go wrong. But you were already halfway there, and there was no turning back now.

When you were just a few feet away, he noticed you approaching and turned around, his expression shifting from casual surprise to something more… interested. You could see it in his eyes, the way they lit up as you stopped in front of him.

“Hey,” you managed to say, hoping you didn’t sound as nervous as you felt.

“Hola,” he replied, a slow smile spreading across his face. “I wasn’t expecting you to come over.”

You bit your lip, suddenly feeling shy. Why did this feel so much harder than anything else you’d ever done? “Yeah, well… Oscar and Logan kind of persuaded me. They said I should talk to you.”

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? What about?”

Your mind went blank for a second, “I was, uh… wondering if you’d want to grab a drink with me tonight.”

The words came out in a rush, and you immediately felt your cheeks flush, but you managed to hold his gaze. You couldn’t believe you just said that. Your heart was thumping so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

Franco didn’t answer right away, but the smile on his face grew wider. “You’re asking me out?”

You nodded, trying to keep your cool. “Yeah. If you’re free, I mean. It’s fine if you’re not, I understand.”

His eyes softened, and for a moment, the cocky driver you’d seen in interviews was gone. In its place was just a guy—surprised, maybe even flattered.

“I’d love to,” he said, his voice steady. “How about I pick you up around 8?”

Blinking, you took a minute to comprehend what he’d just said, relief and excitement flooding you all at once. “Really? Yeah, that works.”

“Great.” His smile was warm, and suddenly, the tension you were feeling melted away. “I’ll see you tonight, then.”

You nodded, still trying to process that you’d actually gone through with it—and that he had said yes.

“See you tonight,” you echo, then turn to walk back to Oscar and Logan before remembering he didn’t have your room number. “Uh, room 438.”

Franco nodded in your direction, “Room 438.”

ynpiastri

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, francolapinto and 31,487 others

fit check, kind of nervous guys (📸 @logansargeant)

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userone: FRANCO IN THE LIKES 🤭

usertwo: oh my god i want her

oscarpiastri: scared for what? i thought you were city boy summering rn

ynpiastri: @/lilyznimer PLEASE BREAK UP WITH THIS NERD

userthree: just seen franco in the hall of the same resort, looks quite dapper if you ask me

logansargeant: this isn't very city boy summer of you

ynpiastri: eat dirt 😍😍

userfour: franyn?

the end.

taglist: @iimplicitt @isaadore @iamred-iamyellow @justheretoreadthxxs @obxstiles @how-what-why-huh @raizelchrysanderoctavius @sainzzreputaticn @xxx-betty @dukeofjjune @dejavuontrack @littlegrapejuice @mxdi0

#f1 #f1 imagine #f1 smau #f1 fanfic #logan sargeant #williams #franco colapinto #franco colapinto x reader #franco colapinto x you #franco colapinto x yn #oscar piastri #oscar piastri sister #williams f1 #williams racing #williams formula 1 #logan sargeant angst #logan sargeant smau #f1 social media au #franco colapinto smau

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is-this-even-relatable · 4 months ago

Text

Misfortune Teller

tldr: An older Danny, apprentice to Clockwork, does a lot of field work across dimensions, resetting the timeline, queuing future events, and who knows what else. Occasionally, he warns people about such upcoming possibilities, to set them on the right path. How, you might ask? Well in this case... as a wandering fortune teller.

Crack-fic (oh god, it's getting long and my logic brain won't let it remain as crack) where Danny becomes Clockwork's apprentice after getting his GED. Living his infinite afterlife to the fullest. Inspired by this tumblr post.

Working for Clockwork had been... interesting so far. At first, Danny got frustrated by how vague and cryptic Clockwork was. He'd just shunt Danny off to some ancient time with a few words, his own time medallion (Danny carried it everywhere with him now), and then pop back into the portal, leaving Danny with only the faintest idea of where to go.

Eventually, after enough time (ha!) spent around Clockwork, Danny figured out that it just basically meant that he had free reign and to do whatever he wanted. Because if he went on the wrong path, (like that one time in Pompeii when he had almost caused the volcano to explode a few years too early), Clockwork would just pop on by, say another few cryptic words, and then it'd all be fine and dandy, or as he liked to say, "All is as it should be... Now stop practicing your wail by an active volcano."

After telling Jazz about that (it was supposed to be funny, not concerning), she just sighed and shook her head, with a forlorn "think before you act, Danny!" but hey, it'd turned out fine so far, so who cares how he does what Clockwork asks him to do, as long as it gets done, right? Even if it's with a liiiiitle more mischief than strictly required.

Besides. Danny was the one who had been doing time shenanigans across millennia, not Jazz. And he thought he'd been getting pretty good at it too! He'd actually started giving himself a different made-up background for each universe he visited. Sam and Tucker were helping him keep up with the identities on a spreadsheet, so if he had to go back to one he'd already visited, he'd remember who he'd said he was supposed to be.

---

He was on a call with them one evening while haunting Jazz's apartment, doing just that, when he felt a familiar tingle in the back of his throat, as well as a heightened awareness of the seconds passing by, that always accompanied his mentor's appearance.

Sam was talking about his past stint posing as a god of death when he cut in. "Hey- sorry to interrupt, Sam- Clocky's here, guys, I gotta dip."

"Aw, come on! We hardly talked any this past week since you passed your certifications, man," Tucker complained.

Danny rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Yeah, yeah. Partly on you too though, you've been caught up outside of class, and Sam's schedule is nearly the opposite of yours."

Sam hummed in agreement despiter Tucker's scoff.

Danny missed hanging out with them as much as they had in high school, but hey, life goes on. Or at least, theirs did, to college. After finally flunking out of Casper High, he'd taken some time to get used to his responsibilities in the ghost zone, and when he had, he realized that he didn't really have much enthusiasm or timeleft for his human life.

And he didn't really want to go back home either.

But Jazz had made him tie up any loose ends before he noped-off to god knows where, which frankly, he had to thank her for. Getting his GED took a few years, but it was an accomplishment that could be attributed to Danny Fenton, no ghostliness required. Then he was able to let that tether go free.

Pulled out of his musings by a few more grumbles from Tucker, Danny said his goodbyes, promising to call the next time they were all available.

After hanging up, Danny swiveled around, anticipation already lighting up his eyes an ethereal green.

Clockwork, for his part, had been waiting patiently through Danny's lengthy goodbyes. Although he supposed that it tracked for the watcher of time to be patient. With his job, it'd be a nightmare if he wasn't.

"Phantom," Clockwork spoke, calm as always. "I have some tasks I need you to complete as my apprentice."

And Danny, always ready for adventure, didn't need him to explain any further. "Sure! When do you need me to be?"

Clockwork smiled at that. "I am fortunate you are eager. Follow me."

---

Danny popped into existence in this universe with a burst of cold air and static electricity. He found himself hovering by a clocktower above a sprawling, gothic city. Smog and light pollution obscured the stars above him, to his disappointment. He comforted himself with the fact that he'd probably have all the time he wanted to fly someplace less populated to see them later.

He started off by familiarizing himself with the city. As he flew, he followed the trail of power and met the resident city-spirit, a spooky- but kind underneath- woman draped in black lace, who told him her name was Gotham. He spoke in length with her about this universe, its heroes, and her knights. On that, she was very enthusiastic... or at least Danny thought she was, her projected emotions belaying much more than her gloomy exterior. She told him how her knights had been through a lot and would need some guidance fighting the darkness that pooled in her deepest corners, smiling with too much glee, filling lungs with fear, and terrorizing with cold hard bullets.

Danny could sense that the dangers she spoke of were growing in power, ever slowly. The longer they shadowed people's minds and hearts, an intangible thing grew that lent them more otherworldly pull than their physical forms had right to hold.

That must be what he was sent here for.

But... they were weak, pitifully so for him, infinite king as he was. And besides, he wasn't here in that sense. He was a messenger, a simple apprentice. And he could do this however he wanted.

Cue his talk with Lady Gotham, and subsequent idea to arm her knights. With what? Well, he figured knowledge would be a start. Flying high above the city invisibly, Danny noticed a sea of colors and lights by what appeared to be the city's pier. He flew down, noting that it appeared to be the setup spot for a travelling circus or carnival of some kind.

He considered what to do. One of Lady Gotham's troubles was a madman clown, right? Well maybe he'd be attracted to his ilk here... and with the danger came the knights. Maybe he could catch one of them here?

Danny was floating around at the entrance and beginning to formulate a plan when a flyer caught his eye. Looking for a mystic to read fortunes. URGENT!

Hadn't Clockwork said something about fortunes? And he hadn't made an identity in this universe yet...

A mischievous smile crept across Danny's face, splitting it in two with far too many teeth.

---

Half a city away, a man in all black, perched on the very same clocktower that Phantom had Appeared by, shivered as he felt an ominous premonition about his sanity in the near future...

Said man quickly opened his comms to check in with his many, many kids. Yet even after hearing back from each, he still felt apprehensive.

Somewhere even further, Clockwork laughed.

---

And that's how Danny found himself seated at a fortune teller's booth at a pier in Gotham, two days later, for the Tricksy Traveling Circus's grand opening.

#dpxdc #dp x dc #mine #is-this-even-relatable writes #is-this-even-relatable prompt #writing prompt #i wanna write this #prompt #prompt for me #I welcome anyone who wants to add to it #this is the first time I consider to be actually writing something #I wrote this all in one sitting just now #it WILL be continued... ideally #I am just busy and would rather post a lot of short blurbs than wait and do one long post #reposting this as its own post and removing the other as a comment on the inspo.#I was planning for this to be crack but I can't just let sleeping dogs lie #man fml my dumb brain always wants an explanation for things and can't accept “just because” which would be wayyyy easier

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