#cause I've been thinking about it for while

[cometconmain]

Personally, when I created the writeup I have on my blog giving a brief rundown of my blog in the description it was less of a "don't interact because I don't know how/refuse to use a block button" in the sense described here and more intended as what I originally thought a DNI was supposed to be:

"I don't tolerate actual bigoted behaviour so don't waste your time coming in here thinking we'll be friends only to spring some bigoted bullcrap on me later thinking that was a normal thing to believe/say/do. Don't waste your time and don't waste mine. Here's where I stand on these real life actual problem things so you can just bail if you're not ready to accept that. If you can't critically consume fictional media and don't have anything substantial to say in your critical consumption, I don't have time for you so save your breath and mine and go back to your purity cult. Also if you're under 18 this blog is not for you. I am an adult and don't wish to have minors running around pretending like we're all chill with having kids on a blog with adult-only content actually when I don't kmow you exist or haven't been told in some way that you shouldn't be here despite how clear I've made it that this is an adult-only space. Leave.

And if I find out you're any of these types of people I WILL be curating my internet experience by blocking you."

You know? There are different ways to use DNIs that aren't "fuck you no you put all the effort in to not expose me to you" and are instead intended more like "Hey look interact if you want but I'm warning you that you're wasting your time long term if you think you can be shitty to real life people right in front of my salad, so to save us both the hassle I'm leaving it up to you specifically because I have no idea you exist and can't block you until I do so feel free to take that first step since you know we won't gel and you know I exist while I have not yet had the displeasure."

That said, people definitely shouldn't put real life issues next to fandom preferences and gripes. It defangs serious real world issues by trying to take the fangs off them and slap them directly onto the fictional things to lend credence to them because the person doing it doesn't know how to express their discomfort well enough to feel heard about it/expect people to dismiss anything they say out of hand so they grab whatever closest thing from real world issues already considered serious which could kind of fit if you do a handstand and squint through a cloud of steam. Which has the opposite effect, because now people are (rightfully) angry at them for trivialising real world issues to make people treat their perspective on fictional media seriously.

If you know how to criticise media and/or make sure you know the difference between actually potentially harmful handling of a theme within fictional media vs something made you uncomfortable and you want to express it and feel heard as part of processing it but don't know how, then you probably won't feel as strong of - if any - need to play up what you have a problem with. Because a) you know how to express your position to get people to listen to you, b) don't need strangers on the internet to validate you to know you're right because you're versed in identifying and talking about how to fix this problem in media causing potential harm to a marginalised group or otherwise teaching potentially harmful perspectives and here's why... and c) you know when something is just bothering you personally and probably have some healthier copes for it, like ranting into the void on your own post without using any main fandom tags and/or ranting to your friends and/or writing fix-it fic and or- you get the gist.

The day we start doing more of that is the day this whole 'anti-shipper' and responding 'pro-shipper' thing will probably calm down a little bit.

i don't respect DNIs not in the sense i go out of my way to break them but in the sense that i don't respect DNIs as a concept and consider them to be something of a red flag in general.

i'm not sure how to explain it but it's the combination of usually putting very serious issues on the same level as fandom stuff, the fact that half the time people don't even know what they're against beyond 'the bad stuff' therefore even further watering these issues down, and the idea that other people are expected to manage your online existence for you.

there's a passiveness to it that i think is actually a problem and it does not surprise me in the slightest that people with DNIs tend to view what media they consume as activism. do you get what i'm saying.

[ateezscupid]

─── FEB FILTH FEST: Birthday - BREEDING ♡

SUMMARY / Adorable newlyweds, and your husband seems stuck on wanting to have kids.

warnings ✩ SMUT, FLUFF, switch! wooyoung, dom!reader, fem!reader, established relationship, you two just got married, reader is insecure, unprotected sex, light body worship, praise, oral (m), mommy kink

word count ✩ 2,26k

tags ✩ @desirehorizon @tangerineastronaut @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @starillusion13 @mingitheskzstan @bbdeongi @dawn-iscozy @xh01bri @mallielovssyou @clxssy1997 @soreberry @nopension@kitten4sannie@faeriehwas@lustfxq @ashistrashhhhhh

ATEEZ MASTERLIST / REQUEST / FEB FILTH FEST

"Wooyoung, look at this!" you stand from the couch holding your laptop, running over to his desk and sitting your computer next to his. "These curtains would like nice in our room, right? They're so cute!"

Wooyoung glances over at the screen, smiling slightly. "Sure, love, whatever you want. Just don't let your online shopping exceed the budget," he jokes, his eyes not leaving his spreadsheet.

You roll your eyes playfully. "As if you ever care about the budget," you tease, nudging his shoulder with yours. He chuckles and finally looks up, his eyes scanning the webpage briefly before nodding in agreement.

"What's that?" he referred to the recommended items under the one you were looking at.

"Oh. Curtains for baby rooms." Your voice trails off as you realize what you've clicked on. You furrow your eyebrows and stare at them for a while, causing Wooyoung to stare at you.

"You…okay? You're staring at the screen like you want to blow it up." Wooyoung's voice pierces through the silence, a hint of concern in his tone.

You laugh nervously, "Yeah, sorry, just lost in thought." You quickly switch tabs to hide the baby products, feeling your cheeks warm up. "It's nothing."

He smirked a little bit. "No, cmon! Tell me! Did you see something weird?" He leans over, trying to get a peek at the hidden tab.

You swat his hand away. "It's just… I've been thinking about our future a lot lately."

Wooyoung sits up straight in his chair, his smile widening. "And what does our future look like?

You bite your lip, trying to figure out the best way to bring up the topic that's been weighing on your mind. "Well, it's just… I know you've talked about starting a family soon."

"A lot. I've been talking about it a lot. I keep sending you cute baby videos and you act like you don't see them." he blinks at you with his innocent puppy eyes.

You can't help but laugh at his persistence. "I see them. I just don't always know what to say." You admit, your heart racing as you prepare to share your feelings. "But, it's not like I don't want kids I just…"

"You just…? What?" Wooyoung asks, his smile fading slightly as he senses your hesitance.

You take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. "I just--I see all those videos of moms who's body change so much when they're pregnant and some of their husbands leave them. It scares me." You finally spit out.

Wooyoung's smile fades completely as he looks at you seriously. "What? Who would do that?"

You shrug, feeling a bit embarrassed. "I don't know. I've heard of it happening. Plus, there's all the stress and responsibility that comes with having kids. I think I'm ready for all that! Just…not the physical part…"

"Well, I'd never leave you. And we can always support each other through the tough parts," Wooyoung says gently, placing his hand on your thigh. His thumb makes small circles, trying to soothe your nerves. "And however your body changes, I won't stop thinking you're hot."

You give him a weak smile, feeling a bit better. "Thanks, but it's not just that. It's everything. The diapers, the crying, the sleepless nights…"

"And I'll do it all if I have to." Wooyoung's voice is firm and reassuring. He stands up from his chair and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into him. "But we don't have to rush into anything. We can wait until you're ready. We're young, we have time."

"No, I -- I do want kids! I'm super sure of that! A-And I don't mind doing all the mom stuff! Just, y'know, what if I turn into some ugly goblin." You laugh nervously, trying to lighten the mood.

Wooyoung looks into your eyes, his gaze serious. "You'll never be a goblin to me. You'll be the most beautiful mom, because you're beautiful inside and out." His words hit you like a warm embrace, wrapping around your insecurities and giving you a comforting squeeze.

"You'll be gorgeous carrying my baby," he kissed your cheek. "Walkin' around all pregnant and happy, I'd love that."

"Ewww, it sounds like you have a breeding kink." you tease him, trying to lighten the mood with a playful giggle.

Wooyoung just stared at you and didn't answer. You stare back and gasp lightly, "You do, don't you?"

He instantly got red. "N-No! I don't I just-"

"It's fine if you do! You wanna get me pregnant that bad-?!" You laugh, poking him in the stomach. His cheeks turn a deep shade of red, but he doesn't pull away. Instead, he tightens his embrace, his arms secure around you.

"…Oh my god, Wooyoung-" you pause. "Are you hard-?!"

Wooyoung's eyes widen and he clears his throat, trying to maintain eye contact. "….Maybe."

You burst into laughter, poking him again. "Oh my god, you do! You're so adorable!" You lean into his embrace, feeling his heartbeat against your chest. It's comforting, a steady rhythm that calms your racing thoughts.

"Can we go deal with…this though?!" he gulped gesturing toward his bulge. You couldn't help but laugh at his sudden shyness, a stark contrast to his usual playful demeanor.

"Aw, yes baby." You say, a playful smirk forming on your lips as you slide your hand down to grip his hardening erection through his pants. "Let's go to the bedroom, shall we?"

He nods and you pull him along, his hand in yours as you lead him to the bedroom. The tension in the air shifts from the previous conversation, now charged with a different kind of excitement. As you enter the room, Wooyoung locks the door behind you, his eyes never leaving yours. You can feel the heat radiating from his body, his desire for you as palpable as the air around you.

"You want me to touch you?" you ask coyly, your voice low and sultry as you trace a line from his neck to his collarbone with your finger. Wooyoung nods eagerly, his eyes darkening with lust as he watches your every move. You lean in closer, your breath tickling his ear as you whisper, "Where do you want me to touch you?"

"Baby, please." Wooyoung's voice is low, a pleading whisper that sends shivers down your spine. You feel empowered, knowing you have this effect on him. You bite your lower lip, your eyes scanning his body hungrily as you decide where to begin. You decide to tease him a bit more, tracing the outline of his erection through his pants, feeling it throb under your touch.

"No, let's use a different name…" you go silent for a minute. "Mommy, maybe? You like that?" You say with a mischievous grin.

Wooyoung's eyes widen and he swallows hard. "Yeah, I like that," he breathes, his voice thick with desire. You both laugh, the tension dissipating as you both embrace the playfulness of the moment.

"Yeah?" you tug at his sweatpants. "You want mommy to make you feel good?"

Wooyoung's eyes are glued to yours, his breathing hitched. "Yeah," he manages to get out. You smirk, feeling a thrill at the power play. You push him back gently onto the bed, straddling him. He watches as you pull his pants down, revealing his thick cock. You lean down, your eyes never leaving his, and wrap your lips around the tip. He groans, his hands coming up to tangle in your hair.

"F-Fuck," Wooyoung gasps as you start to bob your head, taking him deeper into your mouth. His hands tighten their grip on your hair, guiding you as you find a rhythm that makes him squirm beneath you. You can feel his cock pulse with every stroke, and you know you're driving him wild.

"M-Mommy-" Wooyoung's voice is a needy whine that sends a thrill down your spine. You suck harder, feeling his cock swell in your mouth. Every other time you sucked him off, it felt different. But now, with the new dynamic, it's like you're discovering each other all over again. You let one hand stroke him while the other moved down your body, pushing under your pants.

Your own arousal is evident as you feel how wet you've become. You pushed him down your throat, feeling his cock hit the back of it and gag, only to pull back and do it again. Wooyoung's hips start to thrust upward slightly, his control slipping as he gets lost in the pleasure. You can feel his heart racing under your palm where it's resting on his chest, his breaths coming in short, sharp bursts.

"I-I'm gonna come-" Wooyoung warns, his voice strained with pleasure. You moan around his cock, the vibration sending him over the edge. He comes in your mouth and you swallow, feeling a sense of satisfaction wash over you. You sit back, licking your lips as you watch him catch his breath.

"Lay back," you stand, pushing your pants and underwear down, revealing your wet pussy. "Let mommy take care of herself now." You climb onto the bed, your heart racing with excitement as you straddle his hips.

"You're so pretty," he says, his voice still shaky from his orgasm. He watches as you hover above him, his eyes fixated on your glistening core.

"Am I?" you giggle, rubbing yourself back and forth on his cock, which is already starting to harden again. "You like watching?"

"Mhm," he nods, his eyes not leaving the sight of your pussy gently brushing against his cock. You lean back, supporting yourself on your hands, and lower yourself down onto him. He gasps as you take him in, inch by inch, his length stretching you open. You've done this countless times before, but the new name play has added an extra layer of excitement to the act.

"Fuck-" he inhales sharply. "M-Mommy, you're so tight," he groans, his eyes rolling back as you start to move. You bounce up and down on him, your walls clenching around his cock as you ride him. The sensation of being filled up by him while calling him 'baby' is new and exhilarating.

"I-I love you, your body, everything…" he stammers, his voice thick with pleasure as you rock against him. You lean forward, pressing your breasts against his chest as you start to pick up the pace, your movements growing more urgent. The room is filled with the sound of skin slapping together and your moans of pleasure.

He wraps his fingers in your hair, his other hand on your back. "Don't stop-" he begs, his eyes closed as he feels you ride him with an intensity that borders on desperation. You lean down and kiss him, your tongues dancing as you move together. His taste is still on your lips, a mix of salt and sweetness that drives you wild.

"God, I want your cum so bad," you chuckle, your voice breathless as you ride him, the feeling of his cock moving inside you making your walls quiver. "I bet you wanna fill me up so bad."

Wooyoung's eyes snap open, his gaze fiery as he looks up at you. "Mommy," he says, the word slipping out almost involuntarily. "I'm going to come."

"Yes, baby, come for mommy," you whisper, your voice a siren's call as you continue to bounce on his cock. The idea of him filling you up, breeding you, sends a thrill through your body that only intensifies your desire. You feel your own orgasm approaching as you lean into the role, your hips moving faster and more erratically.

"Fill me up," you purr, playing into his newfound kink. You can feel his cock twitch inside you, his body taut with anticipation. You lean back, arching your spine as you increase your rhythm, watching his expression contort with pleasure. The power of bringing him to the edge like this, calling him 'baby' in such a way, is intoxicating.

Wooyoung shut his eyes tightly and gripped your hips, his body trembling as you whispered those words into his ear. The thought of you actually being full of his cum once he filled you up was too much for him to handle. He felt his orgasm building as your pussy clenched around his cock.

"Cmon, give it to me. Get me pregnant," you say in a playful but urgent tone. "I wanna have your kids."

"Mommy-" he gasped, his hips jerking upwards as he felt his orgasm approaching. "I-I'm gonna f-fill you up," he groaned, his voice thick with lust. He moaned as his load emptied into you, the sensation of his hot seed filling you making him shiver with pleasure.

But you didn't stop. You kept going, bouncing up and down on his cock as he spurted his cum deep inside you. "Mm, yeah, baby," you murmur, feeling his warmth fill you up. "Give me all of it." Wooyoung's eyes fly open in surprise, his orgasm hitting harder than he expected as he watches you take his cum hungrily. His hips thrust upward, pushing himself deeper into you, his hands digging into your hips as he releases his seed.

"O-Oh my god-!" he gasps, his eyes rolling back in pleasure as he feels you milking his cock for every last drop. "Y-You're so fucking good at this," he stammers, his voice laced with awe. The taboo nature of the role play has unlocked a primal need in him, and you can see it in the way he looks at you - with a mix of love and raw desire.

[starsinmylatte]

I saw your dilf Veritas post and listen I had to hop in cause I am so damn hungry for this man istg

Anyway, I don't think I've seen anything in regards to the moment when Veritas loses his cool for maybe even the first time in his life. And that's the birth of his child. He has knowledge on birth and all about it but with that comes the knowledge about all that could go wrong and bro is stressing 🥲 he wants his beloved partner and his precious baby safe and sound and healthy. He also hates to see his partner in so much discomfort throughout all this

I have failed my fellow HSR cuties bc I have been HOARDING some delicious content in my drafts while waiting for the hyperfixation to return. Everyone thank @delirious-donna for pinging my last brain cell and reminding me that hoyoverse still exists 🙂‍↕️💕

Anywho..... Back to our scheduled simping!

Veritas is the man who always has a logical plan or a well-thought-out answer to everything. He is aloof at most times, able to step away from any situation happening in front of him so that he may analyze and produce the best course of action. He prides himself on his ability to organize his thoughts and process his feelings according to logic, oftentimes being the only person to take charge during emergencies. That is, until you wake up in the dead of night to find that your bedsheets are.... strangely damp? Oh shit.

Being the chronic over-planner, Veritas had your due date neatly penciled into his calendar for precisely two weeks from now, so when you tapped at his shoulder rather urgently, he was decently confused. "My darling, I know cravings are intense, but eating at this time of-"

You cut through his raspy, sleepy drawl- the same one you'd heard groaning obscenities against the shell of your ear as his son was conceived-" Veritas, the baby is coming."

His head twitched, raising off the pillow as if he needed both ears to hear what you were saying, "I, I apologize, but it sounded li-"

"Veritas. Get the bag. Our son is coming."

For the first time since you'd met the man, you swear that you can hear the subtle clicking of Veritas Ratio's mind running as he processes a set of data. During that particularly pregnant (ha) pause, you heard one distinct tick as he registered the condition of the bedding, and then the father of your child was immediately out of bed vaulting across the room.

A choice string of vehemently hushed obscenities falls from his lips as he snarls in frustration at all the extra fucking buckles on his goddamn pants that he's never noticed before and-

"Dear, just keep your sweatpants on. Just find a shirt and some shoes first, and then grab pants and shoes for me."

Your clear voice stops his thoughts on a dime. Of course, How had he not thought of that? His beloved wife was so brilliant.

For the first time in his entire life, Veritas's brain was simply on overdrive. His carefully separated thoughts and feelings were clashing with no intention of stopping, leaving the man on autopilot. If it were any other situation, you'd have been amused.

Veritas's mind snapped back to normal after you winced from a contraction as he helped you with your shoes. Knowing that you were in distress gave his mind the kick it needed to prioritize correctly again, and he got you to the hospital in record time.

Originally, you had planned to go to the hospital that was further away- the one Ratio didn't lecture at daily- but now that didn't seem like a possibility. Getting you comfortable as quickly as he could won by a mile in Ratio's list of priorities, so many heads turned in the Emergency Department as they suddenly heard their strictest professor's voice at three in the morning. Some twitched in their chairs, fully convinced they were in the throes of a nightmare as the widely respected, widely feared Doctor Veritas Ratio strode toward them at a breakneck pace in his pajamas.

"Mywifeishereandsheneedstobetakenuptoaroomimmediately."

The doctors glance at each other. From the sea of confused faces, that didn't make sense to anybody. "uh- sir?"

"My wife. Is here. She needs a room. Now." Veritas annunciated his words very slowly as if they were the densest people on the planet, which meant that he actually managed to speak his sentence at a somewhat normal pace.

As if to drive the point home, the nurse Veritas had left to gather your things and bring you in suddenly appeared, quickly wheeling you into the room. The staff paled as they noticed you groan softly in pain, one arm draped protectively over your heavily pregnant belly.

The medical team whisks you away to a delivery room, and Veritas is quickly thrown into an unfamiliar world. The man used to having decisive answers is sat squarely in a chair next to his wife's bedside, grasping her hand tightly as she cries out in pain. He can't stop thinking about all of the variables, all of the things that could go wrong- the way your face is scrunched up in agony- the knowledge that he's about to meet his son.

The thoughts continue on a revolving loop of horror and wonder until a shrill little cry pierces the air, and Veritas Ratio snaps to attention to meet his son for the first time.

[kawhh]

you’re the only person who shares my wavelength openly so here i go….

I often think about having sex with Trevor and Quinn watching from somewhere in the room. Quinn either heard you moaning Trevor’s name in your sleep, overheard a convo with your friends, or just staring at trevor? Idk but whatever caused him to let trevor take you momentarily while he watches and interrogates makes me feral.

He’s asking things like “does he f*ck you like I do?” , “is he treating my pussy well?” “Are you done fantasizing about him?”

that’s right, quinn’s pussy - not yours, quinn’s and he’s loaning it to trevor.

Unfortunatly for everyone around me on this app I am incapable of not being open. I'm too much of a whore and I've been given a voice.

He knows Trevor watches you. How could he not? He notices everything. He doesn't let you out of his sight after all.

He's noticed you reciprocating the looks. Not enough to make him angry, but enough to make him aware that there's probably something there.

He can't let it fester. He can't let this get out of control. He needs to shut the shit down now.

it's easy enough to convince Trevor to go to your room at night. Telling him that he understands, convincing him that he won't be angry or upset if he gets it out of his system.

He can wait patiently knowing that it's happening. Seeing Trevor sneak into your room, hearing your panic and shock. Can hear him convincing you that you both have permission. Tightening his grip on the door frame, every instinct screaming at him to start his plan when he hears the first moans coming from the room.

He's slipping into the room, silently locking the door behind him, questioning his every decision seeing Trevor fucking into you, how he's hovering over you. How small you look like under another man, the anger burns in his veins. He wasn't fully prepared. He'll admit that.

Hearing your moans for another man? Hearing you cry on another cock? Watching your legs shake?

You're both so distracted you don't even hear him grabbing a chair. Neither of you reacting until he parks himself right next to your head, smoothing your hair.

"He fucking you good, baby?"

The look of shock on your face is priceless. The way you cycle through emotions. Shock, panic, embarrassment. And now you look like you're going to cry, so fucking adorable. His little whore.

"This help getting him out of your system, sweetheart? With how poor he's fucking you? Look at him, he's not as thick as me. Bet he's not even reaching your cervix, huh?"

Laughing as Trevor tries to fuck you harder, he can tell he's getting frustrated with his comments. But it's not like he said he wouldn't do this.

"Has he even made you cum, babe? Did he warm you up? Was he being selfish?"

Rubbing brutal circles on your clit, hearing your delicious screams.

"Don't worry baby, I'll take care of you. Treat your pussy right. You won't look at him ever again, will you?"

[lemonlinelights]

@dialup-dragon YES HI HELLO!!!!!!!! The can has been opened I hope you like worms XD

The diva's name is The Question aka Vic Sage My Beloved. He's my favorite superhero like EVER in DC and Marvel I love him so much. I can say like SO MANY THINGS ABOUT HIM!!! Idk where to start UHHH the other person in the art is Huntress aka Helena Bertinelli she's a badass character with a lot of cool stories of her own. Cause it's ya know ✨comics✨ it depends on what you're reading/watching but they're sometimes lovers and I love them together so much.

The Question is from DC comics and he's from Hub Cap City which like a lot of cities in DC comics is corrupted and full of crime.

Vic DOES have a face! He just has a special mask that makes it look like he doesn't. The mask is weirdly very important in the start of his alter ego. He uses a gas to take the mask on and off and it also changes his hair color in the process. His skill set is martial arts and his detective skills. but later on he sort of starts to be able to communicate with cities? And also understand coincidences, comic book logic lol.

Uhh I'm trying to keep this short without going into an essay XD

For awhile his main struggle was seeing things strictly in black and white, until he's basically beaten to death by Lady Shiva which starts his entire journey into morals and learning that not everything is what it seems (I've a post that explains this a lot better hopefully I can find it) A LOT of other stuff also happens, many tragedies and character growth as is the life of a comic book superhero. Skipping all his dramatic adventures Vic eventually dies from lung cancer, and his successor is someone who he's been training-

Renee Montoya! She is AWESOME! I don't know her as well yet but she's amazing as The Question I love her. While Vic is alive their dynamic together is SO fun and Renee on her own is also neat. Again comics so the story changes a bit but shes a former cop struggling with alcoholism and her girlfriend leaving her when Vic enters her life giving her something to work for again. Renee usually has a relationship with Kate Kane (Batwoman) and I love it just wkhxenhdben💕

So yes there's two Questions, sometimes at the same time! Vic Sage has some appearances  in Justice League Unlimited that a fun watch. He and Huntress are together in it <3

They're my beloveds I love them a lot. I think it's mainly their personalities that draw me in a lot of the time. They're entertaining :-) ✨Divas✨

Uhhh also at some point when the universe got rebooted (this is usually done once the comics get too complicated even for the creators) they tried giving The Question a fresh coat of paint by making him a cursed guy who will be able to solve other people's Questions but never answer the biggest one, his own identity. Also this version doesn't actually HAVE a face he legit has no face. The version also has some superpowers? It didn't last long though and I think they've just been ignoring it. So uh yeah we ignore that one.

A whole bunch of JLU Question doodles

Shout out to these comments that changed how I saw certain scenes + Jeffrey Combs' entire performance (his voice is so goodd)

Adding another compulsive nerd to my "favourite compulsive nerd characters" collection

[spencerreids-wifey]

𝐈'𝐌 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐘 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔 | 𝐒.𝐑𝐄𝐈𝐃

Category: Smut & Fluff

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warning: sub!spencer, inexperienced!spencer, oral (m and f receiving), virginity loss, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, light dom/sub, use of good boy but only like twice. (Let me know if I've missed anything)

You enjoyed being Spencer's first girlfriend, just because you loved the fact that you got to be the one to ever hold his hand romantically, the one to kiss him or spend the night at his place.

Now, this was not your first relationship, but it was the first time that you didn't have to worry about whether or not they genuinely liked you because sex was the last thing on Spencer's mind, at least as far as you could tell.

Tonight was just like any other night. Spencer had gotten home from a case pretty early and asked if you had wanted to spend the night in which you accepted and packed an overnight bag.

You'd spent the night eating takeout and some documentary that Spencer had put on, but you weren't paying too much attention, you rubbed Spencer's knee which then gained his attention.

Spencer smiled and hesitantly leaned closer to you, and the two of you began to make out on the sofa. It was just a small little moment but then it started to get heated and before you knew it, you were on his lap.

The two of your lips moved in sync, and his hands were on your waist, then you began grinding against him, which had then had caused a shaky moan to fall from his lips.

"Mhm...was that a moan?" You giggled.

Spencer realized the noise he'd just made, and his eyes widened a bit, and he placed his hands onto your waist to stop you from moving any further.

You furrowed your brows. "Are you okay? I'm so sorry, Spencer...I didn't mean to overdo it." You quickly climbed off of him and took a seat beside him, hoping you didn't make him uncomfortable.

The two of you had been dating a year now, and while Spencer was a lot more comfortable when it came to you, he still was hesitant when it came to talking or doing anything intimate.

"No!" Spencer quickly said. "You didn't make me uncomfortable, just...wasn't expecting it."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, I wasn't expecting that, but it very clearly had an effect on me." He said with a sheepish tone, and that's when you could see the outline of his cock in his pants.

You tried not to stare but you couldn't help it and you just simply said, "Oh..."

Spencer spoke, "I think I'm ready."

"For what?"

"For you to have me." He took your hand and looked into your eyes. "Completely."

You looked into his eyes. "Are you sure?"

"I am." Spencer nodded. "I trust you, and I don't want to keep you waiting for so long."

You placed your bend back on his knee, this time in an assuring way. "Spence, baby, you don't need to worry about keeping me waiting, I'll only want this if I know you're ready."

Spencer knew you wouldn't rush him into anything he didn't want to do and that was something he appreciated about you.

But now it was time, he needed you and wanted you.

"I promise, I'm ready."

You smiled softly and reached over to slip your hand behind his neck, pulling him into a kiss to which Spencer immediately reciprocated.

Spencer pulled you back onto his lap as you two made out, his hands found your waist, his fingers dug into your waist, digging into your soft flesh as he got lost in the feeling of your tongues dancing together.

With his trembling hands, Spencer trailed down to the blouse that you were wearing. His fingers fumbled quickly with the buttons on her shirt, and you couldn't help but giggle about against his lips.

You pulled back and replaced his hands that were on your shirt with your own hands. "It's alright, let me do it for you."

One by one, you began to unbutton your shirt until you were simply left in your bra.

Spencer's eyes didn't look away, the way your tits were pushing up in the bra you were wearing, it was just too mesmerizing.

A small groan left his lips as his hands reached out to cup your breasts. They were so round and heavy in his hands, and he couldn't help but squeeze as much as he could, and occasionally, his fingers would run over your already head nipples through your bra.

You reached behind you so you could unclasp your bra, and you threw it somewhere on the floor.

Your bare chest was now fully on display for Spencer, who looked like a kid in a candy store.

Spencer leaned down and wrapped his lips around one of your nipples which caused a moan to fall from your lips and your back to arch.

That sound, it was like music to his ears, and he continued to suck gently on your nipple. Your hands went to his hair, tugging a bit, which caused him to moan around your nipple and send vibrations throughout your body.

You tasted so good. You were a perfect mixture of sweet and salty, and Spencer couldn't seem to get enough.

You couldn't stop yourself from moaning and groaning as Spencer paid a good amount of attention to each one of your nipples.

"I think..." You took a deep breath. "It's time for me to give you a little treat." A small smile had played onto your lips as you helped him out of his shirt, Spencer got goosebumps with how cold the room had suddenly felt.

You climbed off his lap and dropped down to your knees, and Spencer's lips parted. He was already hard, but he now he was really hard knowing what he was about to do to him.

Your hands reached for the zipper on his pants, and you smirked. "Now let's see..." Spencer lifted up his hips as you had helped him out of his pants and boxer briefs.

Wow, that's all you could think as he cock sprung free, not wanting to waste anymore time your hand wrapped around him, you began to purposely stroke him slowly.

He gasped as she wrapped her fingers around him, feeling the softness of her skin against his.

"Do you like this?" Your hand twisted around him and went up and down in all types of motions, drawing relentlessly moans from his lips.

Quickly Spencer nodded. "I-I do, yes..."

You were barely doing anything, and already it felt like too much, Spencer's nails dug into the couch, and his eyes squeezed shut.

"Uh, uh." You stopped and looked up at him. "If you don't look at me, I'll have to stop, do you understand?"

Spencer opened back up his eyes and looked at you and answered. "I-I understand."

"Good boy." Those words made him twitch in her hands. "Your cock is so pretty Spencer and I'm so glad I'll be the first and only girl to see this."

Spencer gulped and sheepishly spoke. "Can you, um..you know?"

You knew what he was asking for but you wanted him to directly ask you.

"I don't know, what do you need?"

Spencer hesitated. "Do I have to say it?"

"How can I know what you want me to do if you don't ask me specifically?" You smiled softly.

"Can you...use your mouth?" He asked.

You chuckled, "We'll work on that." And then you leaned in closer, your warm breath against his skin as you had taken his cock into your mouth.

Spencer's eyes widened at the feeling of your warm and wet mouth around him.

You ran your tongue up and down him, licking his tip and trying to take as much as you could down your throat. Spencer's head back against the couch, and his eyes rolled back. You sucked him off with eagerness and whatever you couldn't take in your mouth, you just jerked it.

Spencer could feel the tension building up within him. With everything you were giving him, he could feel himself getting closer.

But he didn't want to come just yet, so he spoke up. "Wait- wait..."

"Whats wrong?" You asked.

"Nothing, I just...I don't want to come so quickly."

You smiled softly. "It's okay if you do, that just shows I'm doing a good job."

"You definitely are." Spencer said, breathless. "I just...want to return the favor, please?"

You rose to your feet so you could pull down your pants and panties and then took a seat down onto the couch. Now it was Spencer's turn to be on his knees for you.

He pushed your legs apart, and his heart raced at the view of your glistening cunt before him, he licked his lips and looked at you. "Let me know if you don't like it, okay?"

You nodded and gasped as he leaned down, and his tongue had flicked out to taste test her. A groan left Spencer's lips at how good you tasted, so sweet.

Your hands went to his hair as he began to lick her like she was his last meal.

While Spencer had never touched a woman a day in his life, he had done a lot of reading, waiting for this moment and he did not want to disappoint you.

Your hips bucked up to his face as he wrapped his arms around your legs, holding you close as he didn't let a drop of you go to waste. His tongue wrapped around your clit and he gently sucked.

"God, Spencer!" Your back arched. "So good, how are you so good at this?"

It was a rhetorical question, but Spencer still wanted to answer. "I've done a lot of reading, although reading about it isn't the same as doing it, you taste amazing." He said as he returned back to what he was originally doing.

Moans filled up the living room, and your legs began to shake. "Don't fucking stop, Spence!"

Your thighs tightened around his head as you got closer and closer with every lick and flick against your clit.

Within seconds, you were left shaking as Spencer made you come harder than any man.

It took you a while to catch your breath, but when you did, you looked down at him and helped him up. "Let's go to your room."

Spencer quickly stood up and the two headed to his bedroom. "Get in the bed, lay down for me." You had instructed.

Spencer climbed into the bed and laid on his back, watching in awe as joined him in the bed, straddling is hips.

His cock brushed against your clit which made the both of you moan. "I'm going to make you feel so good baby..."

Spencer whined, "Please do."

Your hands ran over his chest before lining him up at your entrance, your wetness dripped onto the tip of his cock as your lowered yourself onto him completely.

"Ah.." Spencer shuddered.

"Look at me." You said as you began to rock your hips against him, Spencer's eyes snapped up to you, holding eye contact.

You were so tight around him, and it made it so hard for Spencer not to come on the spot.

"Oh, baby..." His hands went to your hips.

Spencer's cock only got harder with the many movements against him. You moved up and down, your ass and thighs slapping down on him.

You spoke, "Fuck me back baby."

His grip on your waist got more firm, and he began to help guide your movements. Spencer thrusted upwards to meet your movements at the perfect time.

Your eyes grew wide as he managed to find the perfect rhythm. With each thrust, her tits bounced, and he could feel her walls tighten around him. It was such a magnificent feeling that, he could sense you were close

Spencer reached down to her clit, his fingers trembling with anticipation. He needed her to come before he did. His thumb circled the sensitive nub, applying just the right amount of pressure. Your eyes shot open, meeting his with a look of surprise.

Your hips began to move faster, your breath hitched in your throat as you felt the beginnings of your climax building. Spencer could feel it, too, the way your walls fluttered around him, the way your muscles began to quiver. He knew he had you, knew he could give you what she wanted.

Spencer's thrust started to become more and more deliberate with each movement. With every moan that came from your lips it caused him to want to give you more.

His head fell back into the pillow at the feeling of your walls clenching around him.

Then you leaned forward, your hands on his chest as you began to ride him with eagerness.

Spencer watched, his eyes glued to the sight of how well your pussy swallowed his cock, your clit grinding against his pelvis. It was a sight that made him feel like he was going to combust at any given moment. He then reached up, his hands cupping your breasts as he squeezed and pinched your nipples in time with the movements.

"Do you like this?" You asked. "Do you like how well I'm taking your cock, babe?"

In response to your question, he moaned. He was starting to feel his release draw near as you didn't slow down the pace. The pressure in his balls grew with every stroke. All he could do was moan at your filthy words.

You threw your head back. "I'm so close."

"Me too, baby...me too."

Your movements were becoming erratic. You needed to come, and you weren't about to slow down until you did. Spencer could feel you tighten around him, your pussy clamping down onto him.

And then, a loud moan and desperate cry left your lips as you came. Your body shook with the force of your orgasm. The sensation was like nothing he had ever felt before, his own cock pulsing.

Your pussy was so tight around him and he was ready to let go. Spencer looked up at you as you rode out your pleasure, watching you come did something to him, knowing that he made you come, threw him over the edge.

And then, with a final, desperate thrust, Spencer came. His eyes rolled back in his head, his back arching off the bed as ropes of cum shot from his cock, filling you up.

Never in his life had he ever come that fast and hard.

You moaned softly, feeling his release inside of you. Both his and your juices mixed together leaked out of her as she pulled off of him and dropped to lay beside him, catching her breath.

There was a long silence that made Spencer feel uneasy, so he turned to look at you. "Was that good?"

You looked at him. "Was that good?" She repeated. "That was more than just good."

Spencer smiled.

"You sure that was your first time?" You joked.

Spencer chuckled. "It was, I've just done enough reading and watching to know a good amount."

You raised a brow. "Watching, hm?" You knew Spencer was a man, but you never really thought that he might've watched porn.

"Only for research purposes."

You chuckled. "Right....Right"

You laid your head onto Spencer's chest, still trying to catch your breath, Spencer looked up at the ceiling, really pleased with himself.

"Can we do that again?" He asked.

You looked up at him. "Sure, just.. let me catch my breath."

Hello, I hope you guys enjoyed it. This was my first time writing smut, and as you can see, I'm not too good at it, but I'm learning, and if you have any feedback, don't hesitate to give it.

Also, thank you too, you all who sent so much love and reassurance about my first post, I'm glad it reached people, and you all enjoyed it!

[athenagc94]

Dear Daddy Long Legs - Chapter 7

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

I'm also posting this story on AO3 which you can find here.

This is one of the first scenes I imagined when drafting this fic, so I've been very excited to share it with you guys.

Also sidenote: Y'all thought I was gonna leave out my other hyper-fixation? Have fun reading about these poor saps bonding over the Odyssey :)

First | Prev | Next

Chapter 7

The scrape of steel on steel jolted you awake. Immediately followed by a dull, throbbing at the base of your neck that sent a shock down your spine. You fell back with a small grunt as you closed your eyes once more. Starbursts painted the back of your eyelids. A train passed outside, rattling the framed pictures on the walls. It was a familiar sound that lulled you to sleep every night.

You would have remembered coming home. Right?

Carefully, you pushed yourself onto your elbows and tried again. The light on your nightstand was offensively bright. A searing prong shoved through both eyes would have been less painful than whatever this was.

“Too bright?” A voice modulator crackled. “Sorry. I’ll turn it off.”

Jesus Christ. This couldn’t be happening.

You opened your eyes despite the pain. It took a second to adjust to the darkness, but when you did, you saw him. Red Hood crouched by your head; his shoulders curled to appear less imposing which only worked insofar that he didn’t look like he wanted to kill you. It was still unnerving, having him this close. The scent of old leather and motor oil clung to his collar. You wrinkled your nose, overwhelmed.

He shifted back onto his knees, the gesture oddly shy. “Uh, hey.”

“Why are you in my apartment?”

“There was a hostage situation at Wayne Manor. You took a hit to the back of the head. I decided to bring you back here.”

His words took a second to fully sink in, but when they did, you ghosted your fingers along the soft patch of skin at the nape of your neck. It was tender to the touch—bruised for sure—but as far as injuries went, it could have been far worse.

Several memories resurfaced and slotted together like pieces in a puzzle. Mark flirting with you over a crate of booze, a knuckle tattoo, the crack of a gun, and fucking Brendan.

“I’m an idiot.”

Hood lifted his hand as if he might touch you, but he hesitated just before he made contact. You both stared at his outstretched hand, a heavy silence between you. His fingers curled as he let his hand fall. He cleared his throat. “None of this was your fault.”

“No, part of it was definitely my fault,” you admitted, “I wouldn’t have taken a blow to the head if I hadn’t drawn the shooters attention away from the target. I tried to play hero, and it backfired.”

“You did that on purpose.” His modulator pitched.

You doubled over, gripping your head in your hands. “Ugh.”

“Sorry.” He softened his voice for your sake. It only helped insofar that he wasn’t causing active distress anymore. “Why would you do that on purpose?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t really think. I just acted.” You groaned and fell back against your pillow. “Funny thing is, I should have been in class, but my boss called me in to train the new recruits.”

Recruits who ended up being members of a notorious gang. What had your life become?

“I should have told him to pound sand.”

“You skipped cl—” He stopped himself before he caused another pitch in his modulator. Instead, he fumed quietly, each breath sharper than the last as he curled and uncurled fists.

While this wasn’t your first lecture from him, his reaction surprised you. Hood didn’t strike you as the scholarly type—not that you claimed to know anything about him. For all you know, he could have a PhD in political science or medicine. Most of the supervillains in Gotham were well-known academics. The same could apply to morally gray vigilantes.

Finally, he said, “Why would you skip class? Couldn’t someone else take your shift instead?”

“Our veteran server quit, so it had to be me,” you countered sharply, “I’m also not in a position when I can turn down an extra shift.” With a quick wave, you motioned to your shitty studio. It wasn’t much, but you tried. He glanced around as if he were seeing it for the first time. You supposed there were more pressing things to focus on than your tastes in thrifted décor.

“Why would you bring me home? I should have stayed at the manor until the paramedics arrived?”

He fiddled with his gloved fingers. You clocked the bad habit soon after meeting him. Watching someone as comically large as Red Hood get nervous was oddly endearing, not that you were ever going to tell him that. He’d either die of embarrassment or shoot you for pointing it out.

“Your, uh, coworker mentioned you didn’t have family in the area, so I assumed you didn’t want to pay for an ambulance ride and an overnight stay at the hospital. And you’d probably hate it even more if Bruce Wayne paid for it given you…” He made a vague, flourishing gesture with his hands. “Well, considering the conversations we’ve had.”

He caught on faster than you expected. You never imagined the person who understood you was also the one who spent his nights dual-wielding guns whilst parading around Gotham. A bitter laugh crept into your throat, but you smothered the urge, knowing the effort would make your headache worse.

“Alright, you were right to make that assumption.”

“I bet you’re regretting skipping class, huh?”

You shot him with a narrow look that told him to drop it. “No need to rub it in. I didn’t want to skip.”

From the tension curling in his shoulders, you sensed he had more to say on the matter. The air fizzled and sparked between you as you waited for him to speak, but he resisted the urge. Good. You weren’t in the mood for another lecture, and he seemed to sense that.

“Besides, I think I’m already paying the price. This was a one-time thing and now, I’ll have to miss a few more days while I recover. I don’t want to fall behind on my readings and coursework, but here we are.”

Your temples throbbed, despite the reprieve of darkness. Focusing too long on any one thing made the room spin. It was nauseating. As much as you wanted to escape in a book, that wasn’t going to happen tonight.

“What are you reading?” he asked after a moment.

You motioned toward the stack on your kitchen table. Most of the books had been thrifted from the shop down the street. Your scholarship didn’t cover reading materials, and you balked at the prices at the school store.

“The Red Tent for my women’s history class and The Odyssey for my English class.”

“Which translation of The Odyssey?”

“Robert Fitzgerald.”

He made a small noise of disgust, amplified by the modulator. “He translated it well, I guess, but I prefer Emily Wilson’s take on the epic. It’s creative, but there’s a certain musicality to her prose that I admire.”

You… didn’t know how to respond to that.

Red Hood was the last person you expected to have an opinion on classical literature. Sure, it kind of made sense the longer you talked with him, but the vibes of tortured poet and rugged vigilante didn’t quite mesh in your mind. In fact, you were fairly certain this was all a concussion-induced dream. It just happened to include Red Hood.

And if this was a dream, like you assumed it was, there was no harm in playing along.

“You’ve read multiple translations of the Odyssey?”

“Duh. At least three in English, another in Spanish, and one in German. Hasn’t everyone?” He shoved off your bed and walked toward your kitchen table. “Comparison is a crucial element when it comes to translated works. People interpret language differently and it’s fun to read those different interpretations.”

He grabbed the book from your pile and flipped through it gingerly, almost reverent in the way he handled it. “Sing in me, Muse, and through me tell the story of that man skilled in all way of contending, the wanderer, harried for years on end, after he plundered the stronghold of the proud height of—”

“What are you doing?”

“Helping you with your readings. Take it from me, reading with a concussion fucking sucks.”

“Oh.”

Oh—that was the best response you could come up with?

You stared at your hands so he wouldn’t see your blush. An offer like that was, well, it toed a line. Which line? You couldn’t exactly say, but there had to be one given the Red Hood had offered to read to you so casually. The man was a walking contradiction of himself with the broad frame that barely concealed the raw awkwardness that lay beneath. It felt familiar, but your mind was too foggy to draw a connection.

This had to be a dream. You refused to believe anything else. There wasn’t a reality where Red Hood, or anyone for that matter, offered to read The Odyssey outside your dreams.

Fuck it.

Might as well test the bounds of your dreams.

“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but it’s kind of hard to listen with your…” You motioned toward his helmet. “The modulator is a little hard on the ears.”

He gave you a long look. It was moments like this you wished you could see the expression beneath. Maybe this was the line. Asking him to remove his helmet wasn’t just a risk to him, but to you as well. Anonymity to a certain degree protected you. You understood that, and yet you asked anyway.

“I’m sorry,” you started, “Forget I asked.”

A lot of things could have happened next. You shuffled through all of them in the span of a few seconds, none of which were all that pleasant. Him ducking behind the couch and laying flat on the floor was not one of the scenarios you pictured.

You sat a little straighter, only able to see his heavy combat boots sticking out from one end. “Uh… Hood?”

Several seconds passed before he said, “Is this better?”

There was no modulator this time. His words weren’t even muffled. His natural voice settled low in his chest, punching on the vowels and softened the consonants. A pleasant zing rippled through your blood.

The man had a prominent Jersey accent. While not uncommon for the area, confirming it thrilled you more than you expected. Another piece to the puzzle that was Red Hood.

The realization hit you harder than the gun had. You muffled a gasp in your palm. He removed his helmet... for you. You had no intention of seeing the man hidden beneath the mask. Knowing that he trusted you at all made you a little light-headed.

“Much better.”

“Right. Okay.” He paused. “Can I—not that I don’t, but can I trust you not to—”

“I promise not to look,” you assured him.

What went unsaid hung thick in the air and threatened to smother you. You settled on your side, pointedly ignoring the fact that Red Hood was laying on your apartment floor. As far as dreams went, this one was bizarre, but the thought of waking up and being forced to face reality hit harder than you expected.

Selfishly, you didn’t want it to end, and that frightened you.

“Now, where were we.” You heard the shuffle pages before he said, “Here we go. He saw the townlands and learned the minds of many distant men, and weathered...”

You closed your eyes to focus on the mental pictures he painted with words alone. His lilting voice read with the confidence of someone who’d read these passages a hundred times over. And maybe he had. It was easy to get lost in the story—in n the inviting warmth of his honeyed words. It wasn’t long before you succumbed to them like a siren’s song.

It was unclear when exactly you drifted off, but when you startled awake a few hours later, your apartment existed in the stillness of dawn. Thin strips of sunlight filtered through your blinds. You blinked blearily, a headache pressing down on your temples as you sat up.

As you peered around your apartment, deciding where the dream ended and reality began, you settled on the book left on your nightstand. The Odyssey. You grabbed it, flipping open to the spot that someone had marked with a crumpled Bat Burger receipt. It certainly wasn’t yours.

You flipped it over to find a hastily scrawled note on the back in red ink. Take it easy. Rest. Drink water. Pain meds as needed—just don’t overdo it. I left off on page 29, line 317. –RH

RH.

Red Hood.

Not a dream then...

All of it was real. He brought you home and watched over you until you woke up. He read books and had opinions on classic literature. He took off his helmet for you. Your flush bled down your neck and settled in your chest. That meant his damn accent was real too.

Fucked. That’s what you were.

Burying your face in your book, you flopped back on the bed. The knot at the nape of your neck twinged, but it failed to put you out of your misery.

If Hood knew what was good for him, he’d stay away. If you knew what was good for you, you’d do the same. So, you did what you always do with problems you didn’t want to deal with. It went in a box, and you tucked away in the far recesses of your mind to deal with on another day.

[lizardsarecute]

I was revisiting an old book I had about screenwriting. And one of the bits it talked about was how plotting a story is managing information. Additionally it's about ordering the emotions of a character. that lil nugget fucking blew my mind away i had a timeline of my story written out, but i've been having a hard time going through it, because it felt like I was plodding. After reading that I started rewriting my timeline, but this time I put the character's Emotion at the start of each paragraph. Wow, the difference it made. For the first time in a while I actually feel really engaged with my own story instead of fretting lol It made it so much clearer to map out cause/effect, action/reaction. Still not easy, but man do I feel fucking refreshed. I'm thinking I can do this for the rest of the story, then go back through it again and add the character's masking on top--see how that changes some dynamics.

[these-detestable-hands]

It's been a bit since I've interacted with octopath so my stuff on these ships may be a little rusty but I'll argue for them anyway.

Castitio (Castti x Partitio)

Before the game even came out, I thought they'd be a silly couple. Lady who doesn't remember and guy bursting at the seems with kindness. I think they're got a neat dynamic, with Castti teasing him a bit but they get along and are friends. Some post canon hcs I have are that Partitio would help Castti set up an organization that produces medicine and teaches about it cause he loves her and he's got the funding anyway. Also I do think being exposed to the poison rain twice did stuff to Castti so I like to hc she's disabled post canon, being a wheelchair user due to muscle weakness, having very little lung capacity and CPTSD. Also not a disability but she has eczema-like purple splotches on her body. Sorry I needed an excuse to quickly mention my disabled Castti headcanons. While they're engaged, Partitio and Floyd work on completely renovating a house to accommodate all of Castti's needs, so like low counters she can reach while on her wheelchair, only one floor, wide doorways, blackout curtains so she can sleep during the day, etc. Castti keeps insisting that she doesn't need that much help and that she's navigating normal houses just fine but then she'd see all the accommodations in their new house and bawl for hours. She'd work less and take it easy post canon. Listen I just think they'd be a really cute couple. Castti patches up your broken arm then her husband comes in and starts cracking jokes and talking about affordable public transportation. I feel like I'm also forgetting a lot of stuff but oh well. I've got a few fics for them posted on ao3, account name: BigOrangeOnion

Ophikari (Ophilia x Hikari) (I also call them The Radiance (hollow knight reference and it makes sense for an au))

OKAY SO this ship started out as an au when the ot1 travelers were added to ot2 for that update last year. Basically, post canon, Hikari visits the arena whenever he's in Montwise. This time, he goes and there's some omega powerful warriors fighting ruthlessly and with no concern for themselves. He realizes it's because they've got some kinda of curse, similar to him with the shadow (I THINK that's what it was called).

So Hikari starts working on figuring out how to free them because their current existence seems miserable. The first he manages to free is Ophilia, by using light magic near her. The light magic makes her briefly remember who she was but it's enough for her to snap out of the mind control that she's been put under. She talks to Hikari and explains that her and her friends were mind controlled by a very weak but not quite dead Galdera, in attempts to conquer and gain more power so he could heal himself faster. So the two of them start working on freeing the other travelers together.

Along the way, they ofc fall in love. I don't remember an awful lot about them unfortunately but I implore anyone reading this to write stuff for them :]

Here's a little drawing I did of them together. I'd include Castitio drawings if I had any but I am not big on drawing ship art unfortunately.

H'aanit x Cyrus x Castti (in a QPR!!! :3)

So this is probably the one I've explored the least purely because I never really shared it with anyone. I keep it to myself because of the amount of hyper specific and sad headcanons. But basically it was an au where I'd just mix and match travelers n stuff. Like just putting different travelers in different continents with weird team compositions cause I'm a big fan of aus and crossovers.

One of the ones I liked the most is where Castti leaves Solistia by herself to explore post canon because she's not very close with the other travelers and self isolates a little. This au starts out kinda sad cause of the focus on my hcs for various characters' mental illnesses. H'aanit is initially traveling alone but Castti joins her and they're a relatively quiet but very effective and productive duo. Later, Cyrus, Olberic, Primrose and Ophilia join. They all have their problems to work through and get through them together.

Castti has to deal with self worth and realizing that she's more than just the team healer.

H'aanit has always had anxiety around losing Z'aanta, which is really bad throughout the entire story so Castti often ends up calming her down during panic attacks and they get really close because of the mutual trust there.

Idk exactly how to describe Cyrus' problems but he's really jumpy and nervous and a little bit angry all the time because of being accused of, y' know, sleeping with a student. Yeah no I never understood why Cyrus wasn't that angry about it, even when I first played the game at age 10.

I think Cyrus is just dealing with the new found rage he constantly has. He had anger management issues as a kid but worked through them and they're just now coming back cause he's been thrown out of his home and people he used to be friends with think the worst of him and he's got no one but this new friend group he hardly knows. You get it.

The story is the three of them (and Olberic, Ophilia and Prim, but this post is about ships so I'll talk about them another time) as they deal with their mental health issues. Through helping each other with these very personal problems, they become very close and eventually decide to be in a qpr together. I think they'd just live relatively quiet lives in S'warkii cause Cyrus is too upset to return to Atlasdam and Castti isn't too keen on going back to Solistia after falling head over heels in love with two people in Osterra.

I don't remember way too much for this au unfortunately. I think they should all cuddle and finally get a good night's sleep for once cause no way a single one of those bitches sleeps well with the crap they see and have experienced.

Sorry I wrote so much. Here is a little drawing based on an Olberic chapter 2 travel banter and the most important H'aanit fact.

I miss octopath yapping with people so uh yknow what! We’re gonna play a game!!

Explain in the notes what y’all’s favorite ships are and why you like them!!!

Only rules are

1) do not explain why everyone should think your ship is canon, as that is not the point of this post 2) do not put any other ships down bc that is also not the point of this post 3) ALL games are included (yes including cotc) 4) ANY SHIPS ARE ALLOWED!!! GO NUTS!!!!

[mercy-misrule]

apologies for discoursing a little but i've been immersed in arcane fic and it's making me think

people are so fucking weird about writing disabled characters.

you know what sucks? ignoring or erasing disability.

you know what also sucks? thinking that disabled people don't want to exist without disability.

there's not an easy way out of this topic. you don't get a quick and clear way to write chronic pain.

as a disabled person, with chronic pain, i cannot express how much i would change my body to not experience it. it does not add anything to my life that's good or noble. I would rip out my knees and ankles with my bare hands if it could lead to a world where movement did not constantly cause me pain.

when people write Viktor getting to have a pain free existence, it is life affirming to read. because, god what a dream, the concept of health.

but when people write fic that suggests that without his disability he's somehow a better person? that sucks. that's gross to read.

and the same thing goes the other way.

reading fic where Viktor deals with his disability, lives his life, hates it, is used to it, succeeds while dealing with the discomfort and distress it causes, that's also life affirming. that's realistic and grounded.

reading fic where Viktor is only defined by his disability, is a figure of pity, is shunned, is infantalised, is helpless is gross. its also completely out of whack with any canon.

people are obsessed with writing Viktor as having experienced really active and verbal discrimination, but i think the more interesting and, honestly sinister thing that Arcane shows him surviving is the passive, ingrained ableism of the system.

People aren't out there throwing fruit at him, or calling him names, they are ignoring his disability and health. The way disability can render you invisible is so much more connected to real life and also the canon of the show.

Lmao, this post isn't meant to be reassuring, I guess. I just want people to be thoughtful when writing disability and consider the intent of what they write.

I also don't want people thinking they are saying anything valuable when they are like "writing Viktor getting to heal is bad!"

Can it be? Sure. 100%. It can suck so much.

But is it absolutely a thing real life disabled people want? Many of us. Especially chronic pain. It's not easy!

...I'm not going to write my rant about disabled sexuality yet, but it's in my brain. It's lurking in there.

[dp-marvel94]

Real -Chapter 6

Summary:

While hiding from his parents in Gotham, an ill-timed encounter with his neighbor, Jason, has Danny pretending to be his own twin. Fortunately for Danny, the more he pretends the easier it gets. Until he is not pretending at all. Or: Danny names a duplicate and via ghost logic, said duplicate ends up becoming real.

First->Previous

Also on AO3

The chapter count is gone since I've stopped trying to predict how long this story is going to be. At this point, I think I'm just going to keep writing it until I'm out of idea. That's what I get for starting without a plan. 😅

Jason leaves the apartment and Danny’s core aches. His hands tremble now that the danger, the explanations are over. He just watched Jamie melt into ectoplasm. He… he almost lost his twin. Now Jason knows about both of them being ghosts and about his brother being a clone. Jamie lied to the vigilante about his origin. And….

A spike of anxiety lashes from Jamie’s cold spark, lodged just below the half ghost’s sternum. The quiver of emotions draws the boy out of his own growing fear. He exhales; he needs to keep it together, needs to focus on the tasks Jason gave him, needs to make sure his twin is okay.

Danny’s hand rises to rub where he feels his brother’s almost-core. “How are you feeling… other than the obvious?”

Scared. Tired. The clone sounds it, his mental voice shaking. Can Jamie sleep?

Danny blinks, surprised by the question. A traitorous part of him wonders if it’s an excuse to avoid the questions buzzing at the edge of his mind. But… the fatigue wafts from the younger ghost, lapping at Danny through their bond. Almost dissolving into ectoplasm surely is exhausting.

“Yeah.” The half ghost nods. “You can go to sleep.”

At least in this there is no fear. After all these weeks, Danny has no doubt Jamie will remain, even if his energy quiets and stills, mind lost to sleep.

The clone’s presence settles, the sensation unfortunately like Jamie rolling over in bed to stare at the wall and avoid Danny’s gaze. Still, the half ghost offers what privacy he can, even while again having to share a body.

True to his word, Danny sits down to eat dinner. He packs a bag with clothing for both himself and his brother. He tries not to let himself spiral into anxiety.

His twin is there, the half ghost reassures himself. Jamie is still there, still present. His mind and emotions are stronger than ever, in no danger of fading despite the recent destabilization. And yet….

Jamie’s cold spark pulses faintly in its familiar spot. And it is just that, a spark. Not quite a core. Perpetually refusing to solidify.

Hum? Danny’s mind whirls. Is that the cause of the instability, the unformedness of Jamie’s core? And why? Why has it yet to take permanent shape?

At the same time…. The fear holding Jamie’s tongue, influencing him to lie to Jason. Again, Jamie started melting after he panicked over telling Jason the truth.

The clone’s unformed core, his anxious avoidance of the truth, and his instability… these three things must be related.

Shaking his head, Danny puts the thoughts away. He can worry about that later, try to question his twin once he’s awake.

Soon enough, Jason returns. “Are you both ready to go?” Concern still wrinkles his brow ever so slightly.

“Yeah.” The half ghost shrugs the bag onto his back. “So, we’re going to the BatCave? That’s like Batman’s headquarters, right?”

“Yes.” The vigilante nods. “And actually, we’re going to Wayne Manor.”

“Wayne Manor… because your adopted dad, Bruce Wayne, is Batman.” Danny blinks for a long second, letting the impossibility of that statement take him.

Not that he should be surprised. Despite how sparce Jason had been with his past, the half ghost had learned very early that Damian was the man’s brother through adoption. And the tween was nothing if not proud that he was the “only blood son” of the famous prince of Gotham, even if he was at the time annoyed at his father for grounding him. After meeting Jason as Red Hood, Danny had already suspected that the man’s family were the other Gotham vigilantes. The pieces weren’t exactly hard to put together.

Dismissing the surprise, the half ghost’s expression shifts into something touched. “You’ll really trust us with everyone’s secret identities?”

“Of course.” The man steps forward and ruffles Danny’s hair. “You’re both good kids.”

Despite his nerves, the words are comforting, the action pleasantly familial. “Thanks.” The half ghost can’t help but blush.

Jason says nothing on that, though the hint of humor in his eyes says he saw that blush. Instead, he continues. “I was going to take us on my motorcycle. Are you comfortable with that?”

“Yeah.” Danny nods. “I’ve ridden a motorcycle. Actually….” He offers a playful grin. “I might have stolen one of my rogue’s bikes before.”

Jason chuckles. “You’ll have to tell me that story later. Is Jamie okay with taking the motorcycle too?”

“He should be.” The half ghost says. At the man’s pointed look, he explains. “Jamie’s actually asleep right now.” He frowns. “I don’t really want to wake him up to ask. Almost…. Uh… that took a lot out of him.”

The vigilante’s expression softens. “I can see how it would.” A flicker of worry again. “But you’re sure he won’t freak out if he wakes up and we’re riding a cycle?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” Danny nods. “We’ve got a lot of experience with this body sharing thing. More than I’d like.” Frown deepening. “But Jamie’s used to sleeping while I go to work and do my own thing.”

“Alright.” Jason let out a sigh, apparently accepting the words. “Let’s go them.”

The man leads the half ghost and spectral passenger downstairs, to where his bike is locked up. He dons a helmet, red in color though fortunately not that of the Red Hood, after offering Danny his own to use.

The ride to Wayne Manor is decently long. Out of Crime Alley, passed the park near Danny’s work, and into unfamiliar parts of Gotham. The buildings grow taller and then shorter again, eventually spreading out and leaving the crowded streets behind. Blocks of apartments become suburban neighborhoods, and finally massive, gated lots with mansions.

Just as twilight is darkening into dusk, Jason slows down at one of the gates. The wrought iron bares a W as wide as Danny is tall. An intercom crackles, a metallic click as the gate unlocks and swings open. The vigilante drives forward, coming to a stop soon after at the bottom of a set of stone steps which lead to the wide front doors.

Three figures stand at the bottom of the steps: Damian Wayne, a salt-and-pepper haired man whom Danny assumes is Bruce Wayne, and an older man in a butler’s suit.

At Jason’s lead, Danny dismounts the bike. “Uh. Hi.” He waves shyly.

The middle-aged man offers a warm smile as the two approach. “Hello. You must be Danny.” He holds out a hand to shake. “I’m Bruce Wayne.”

Danny accepts the hand with some awkwardness. “It’s uhh.. nice to meet you, Mr. Wayne.”

“Just Bruce is fine.” The man shakes Danny’s hand, gentle yet confident. “I know you’ve already met my youngest, Damian.”

Danny releases Bruce’s hand, turning to look at the younger boy.

Damian scowls, distrust wrinkling his brow. “Where is the other one?”

“Master Damian.” The oldest man cuts in, voice ringing with disappointment.

“No, it’s fine.” Danny tries to wave off the prickliness, addressing the man. “It’s fine, mister….”

“Alfred Pennyworth.” He gives a slight bow. “The Wayne family butler at your service, Master Danny.”

“You don’t have to call me that.” Danny blushes, again trying to wave off the words. “And…” He turns back to Damian, a nervous flicker of the eyes to his neighbor. “Did Jason not tell you about the uhh… overshadowing?” At the preteens continued hard look… “Jamie is here too.” Vaguely, the half ghost motions up and down his own chest. “We’re sharing until he's better.”

Damian’s face softens slightly, a hint of curiosity flickering in his eyes. “And what exactly does that entail?”

“Stop interrogating the kid.” Jason finally cuts in, pointing at the now scowling preteen. “And you, old man.” He narrows his eyes at the tellingly quiet man. “Don’t even start.”

“Master Jason is correct.” Mr. Pennyworth adds. “Master Danny is our guest. As is Master Jamie, whom we’ve rudely yet to address.” Another slight bow. “Greetings, young sir.”

Danny lets a slight smile part his lips at the exchange. “I’m sure he’ll be glad to meet you when he wakes up.” At the questioning looks… “Jamie’s asleep so you know… not aware of what’s happening now. I’ll see if he wants to talk or anything after he’s done.”

Mixtures of curiosity and suspicion paint Bruce and Damian’s faces at the explanations, belying their desires to press. Wisely, neither say anything.

At the same time, Alfred nods graciously. “I see. We will look forward to your brother’s presence once he is rested, then.” He steps to the side, motioning to the door. “In the meantime, can I interest you in a cup of hot chocolate?” His lips turn up. “I just finished a batch of cookies as well.” More than a hint of humor flicker in his eyes.

“Cookies!” Jason’s eyes light up at the word, Damian perking up with a similar look. The man quickly swings his legs back over his bike. “I’m gonna go park this. And I mean it.” He points again. “Don’t grill Danny while I’m gone.” Then, a more playful narrowing of his eyes. “You also better save me some of those cookies, demon brat.”

Damian turns up his nose, trying to look offended. Still, the excitement for cookies sparkles in his eyes.

The exchange is enough to make Danny chuckle. He turns back to Mr. Pennyworth just as Jason speeds away. “So you’re the Gramps, with the war starting cookies.”

Something touched and proud flickers in the butler’s eyes. “I suppose I am.” He steps towards the door, holding it open. “Shall we?”

Danny follows the other three into the mansion and down winding halls. Bruce points out notable rooms. The family game room, the library, his own office. They pass a massive ballroom, a dozen guest rooms, an indoor pool. The half ghost would be more awed if he hadn’t been to Vlad’s castle many times before. Still… his eyes widen, taking in all the sights. He’s definitely going to need a map.

Soon enough, the group arrives in the kitchen. Danny stops a few steps in front of the door, while Mr. Pennyworth approaches the fridge. The half ghost’s eyes flicker around the countertops and appliances, taking in the room. Then… a flicker of nervousness returns. He shifts foot to foot, unsure what to do with himself.

Before the anxiety can build too much, the older man turns to the half ghost with a gentle smile. “Master Danny, you may take a seat while I prepare your hot chocolate.”

With a grateful nod, Danny does so, sitting down on a bar stool at the kitchen island.

The butler continues. “Master Bruce, Master Damian, would you like a cup as well?”

“Yes please.” Damian agrees, taking his own seat.

“No thank you.” At the same time, Bruce refuses. “I would enjoy one of those cookies, though.”

Mr. Pennyworth motions to a metal tin on the island. “Of course, Master Bruce.”

Bruce lifts the lid, grabbing a powdered sugar covered cookie. “I will be in my office.” He turns to the two seated boys. “Don’t hesitate to ask if you need something, Danny.” He finally takes a bite of the cookie. Letting out a pleased hum, he nods gratefully at the butler before leaving the kitchen.

Damian takes a cookie as well and at the two Waynes’ leading, Danny finally takes his own. “Wow.” At the first bite, the boy’s eyes widen, breathy with awe. “These are incredible, Mr. Pennyworth. Thank you.”

“You are very welcome, Master Danny. And really, just Alfred is sufficient.”

Danny doesn’t say anything on that, finishing his cookie and then taking another. His anxiety is melting away, comforted by the treat and the hospitality even as Damian studies him curiously. Still…. The preteen keeps his peace, enjoying his own snack silently. Soon enough, Alfred presents the two boys with coco. The half ghost sips his, humming pleasedly at the rich taste.

Alfred quickly cleans up, putting the sauce pan in the dishwasher before dismissing himself to set up a guestroom. After his absence, the kitchen is quiet for the next few minutes, just the gentle sound of mugs clinking, of the dish washer churning. Then, two other teenagers arrive.

A shorter boy, black-haired and blue eyed, enters through the door. “Bruce said you would be in here.”

Recognition tickles Danny’s mind. “Tim. Hi.” Tim Drake he knows as a regular at his coffee shop job, caramel macchiato with seven pumps of espresso. And the other…

“Hi Danny. I’m Duke. We talked on the phone last week.” The second teen, dark skinned with short cropped hair, introduces himself.

“I remember.” The half ghost nods; he had recognized that voice. “It’s nice to meet you in person.”

“B said something about your brother being hurt.” Worry shines in Duke’s eyes. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah.” A knot forms in his throat at the reminder. “He’s okay for now.”

“That’s good.” The meta looks relieved. Then, his brow wrinkles as his eyes search the room. “Is he here too?”

“Todd said not to interrogate him.” Damian cuts in, clicking his tongue.

“It’s okay. I can answer a few questions.” Danny offers. “I guess I’ll tell you guys what me and Jamie told Jason….”

The half ghost explains in brief, Jason returning about a minute in. He’s a ghost, a former vigilante on the run from his ghost hating parents.

“Oh… and a ghost hunting branch of the US government called the Ghost Investigation Ward.” Danny scowls at the words.

Surprise flickers on Jason’s face before turning to protective anger.

Before the man can say anything, Tim cuts in. “How didn’t we know anything about this?” He whips out his phone, typing intently in a way that achingly reminds Danny of Tucker.

“And your brother?” Duke redirects before questions about the GIW can be bombarded at him. “Who’s apparently hurt and still not here?”

“Actually he is here.” Danny shrugs. “Just currently overshadowing me, also asleep.”

At the confused looks, the halfa continues. Jamie being a clone of him, his twin almost melting this afternoon, the boy acting as a ghostly passenger in Danny’s body to keep him stable.

After the explanations, Duke offers the first question. “So that’s why you were asking about undocumented metas…”

“Yeah. Jamie wasn’t exactly born in the typical way so-”

A pulse of energy just below his sternum, followed by a comfortingly familiar sleepy mutter cuts off Danny’s words. His eyes widen, expression suddenly brightening. “You’re awake!”

“What?” Tim and Duke both blink at him, confused.

Jason picks up on what’s happening more quickly. “Jamie’s awake?” He offers a comforting smile. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

Danny snorts at the greeting. He places a hand over where he can feel his twin’s forming core, attention turning inward. “Hey, baby bro. We’re at Wayne Manor, with Jason.” He looks up, eyes falling on each of the other vigilantes. “You remember Damian. That’s Tim; you met him that one time you visited me at work. And Duke… I talked to him on the phone about the Meta Human Foundation.”

Damian, Tim, and Duke offer their own greetings with various degrees of unsure awkwardness.

A blink of confusion from Jamie. Then… a startled jolt. With a gasp, Danny’s body turns intangible and he falls through his seat, his elbow impacting the floor.

“Ow.” The boy complains, rubbing his sore funny bone. “Been a while since that happened.”

Then his legs shift out of phase. Jamie’s voice mutters in his head.

“I can’t understand what you’re saying.” Danny responses, too relieved to be worried.

Another full body shiver of intangibility. Why can’t I separate us?

The clone sounds more confused that startled, the pure bewilderment making Danny chuckle. “I think you’re getting some wire crossed, buddy. You just want to turn yourself intangible, not all of us.”

Another whole-body flicker. Then… a rubber band pulling, like the familiar sensation of making a duplicate. The feeling leaves Danny panting. “Not like that.” The half ghost shakes his head. “I don’t think you have enough energy to separate, Jamie. Just stay put for now.”

No. But… want to. The clone whines, again turning their shared form intangible.

Danny sighs, ready to ask his twin to stop again, when Jason squats down in front of him. “Jamie, you should listen to your brother. We’ll keep you safe until you’re ready to be on your own again.”

The flickering stops, Jamie’s attention shifting. Danny feels the clone looking through his eyes. Jason?

“Yeah, we’re at Wayne manor with Jason.” The half ghost again explains. “Now,” He chuckles, raising an eyebrow at his brother. “Are you going to stop trying to un-overshadow me long enough to get off the floor?”

Yes. Jamie says bashfully.

It’s okay. Danny presses the words across their bond, a sincere comfort to counter the embarrassment. I’m glad you’re awake.

The half ghost pushed himself to his feet, again taking his seat. Then, he notices Duke, Tim, and Damian staring at him. “What?” He blushes.

Tim shakes his head, the corner of his lip turning up. “You weren’t kidding about the possession, were you?”

“It’s called overshadowing. And nope, no kidding.” Danny laughs, trying to dislodge some of the awkwardness.

“And the phase-shifting was Jamie trying to reverse the overshadowing but not having any luck.” Duke says. Then, looking almost impressed. “You took the random power bursts surprisingly well.”

“Sadly, I’m used to it.” Danny shrugs. “My powers were like that first few months, going off all the time. It’s definitely better to know why it’s happening now.” He smiles teasingly. “I can tell the culprit to knock it off.”

A flicker of teasing in kind comes from his brother, with the impression of a sound that might be blowing a raspberry.

Danny slicks out his tongue, just as jokingly petulance. “Love you too.”

Despite the audience, it feels so good to joke with his brother.

“I assume James is able to speak to you without being heard externally.” Damian cuts in, eyebrow raised.

Ew. Jamie complains at the name.

At the same time, Danny’s nose wrinkles. “Ew. Don’t call him that. It’s Jamie. But...” The somewhat mock disgust melts away, replaced with something sincere. “Yes, I can hear him in my head, hence the saying random stuff.” Another embarrassed blush. “Sorry. I probably sounded crazy just then.”

“No, you didn’t.” Jason says plainly. “We get it.”

“Yeah.” Tim adds. “We get it.”

“Good. Because it would be annoying to relay everything he says-“

Hey! Not annoying. A grumble from his head-mate.

“Okay, not annoying.” Danny put his hands up disarmingly. “You know what I mean, Jamie. I would be a lot to relay everything you say.” Not that you want me to say everything, am I right?

A muttering begrudging agreement from his brother.

Danny continues, looking back at the four vigilantes. “And it would be even more confusing if we switched out who used our mouth.”

Brows wrinkles in confusion, taking a moment to process before Tim and Duke’s expressions morph into surprise. Jason does not look shocked, of course, having already seen the twins cutting each other off out loud. Damian though… appears startlingly unphased.

“Tsk.” The pre-teen tisks. “I do not know why you are surprised, Drake, Thomas. It figures in case of possession the possessor can control their vessel.”

Tim narrows his eyes at the younger boy. “It’s not like we’ve dealt with possession that many times, let alone it being consensual.”

Danny shrugs. “I don’t know what to tell you. We’re weird.”

In a good way? Jamie asks shyly.

Yes, in a good way.

The vigilantes trade looks, partly unsure how to respond to the comment and another part debating what to ask next. At the same time, Danny reaches for another cookie.

Jamie notices, excitedly perking up. Cookie?

The half ghost pauses. Yeah. Want to try one?

A wordless mental nod from his twin. Danny let himself sink deeper inside himself, letting the other ghost rise to the surface.

Now in control, the clone lifts the confection towards his mouth.

“Hey Jamie.” Jason takes notice. “You’re trying one of Alfee’s cookies?”

The younger boy stiffens, curling in on himself slightly at the sudden gazes. Danny hears a brief wonder. How did he notice? But with the change in posture and the green eye light softly bathing their hands, the switch must have been obvious.

Jamie nods. “Yeah. Can’t taste it unless Danny lets Jamie take control.” Still wary of the studying eyes, the clone takes a bite. In blink though, the unease disappears. “Wow.” He chews, covering his mouth with one hand. “These are great.”

Jason chuckles. “Told ya. Danny reacted the exact same way.”

“Oh…” Jamie blushes, a hint of disappointment.

At the comparison… Danny silently wonders, shielding the words from his brother.

“Everyone goes starry eyed at Alfred’s cookies.” Tim says, the soothing undertone suggesting that maybe he picked up on the source of that disappointment too. “I’m Tim. It’s nice to see you again, Jamie.” He smiles, a sincerity in the words. “Danny told us your backstory. I’ve got a friend who I’m sure would love to meet you. He’s a clone too. Do you want to see about meeting?”

“Uh… yeah, sure. Sounds good.” Jamie shrugs, finally taking another bite of the cookie. His eyes roll back exaggeratedly, his enjoyment obvious.

Then, he turns to the dark-skinned boy. “And you’re Duke. Can… can the Meta Human Foundation really help us?”

“Definitely.” Duke nods enthusiastically. “And now that we know everything B will definitely want to help.”

“Father cannot resist helping a teenaged vigilante.” Damian rolls his eyes. “And with his tendency to adopt youth with black hair and blue eyes, which you both have-”

“Wait.” Jamie’s eyes widen, startledly interrupting. “No one said anything about adoption! Besides…” He shakes his head. “We don’t really have black hair and blue eyes.”

“Those eyes might glow green now,”  The preteen scoffs. “But I am not blind James… Jamie.”

The clone pouts, arms crossed his arms. “No, really!”

The raise of Jason’s brow says that he knows what Jamie is talking about. At the same time, others look something between confused and dubious.

Danny catches a whiff of frustration, the outline of an idea as Jamie’s almost core reaches for his. Wait, what are you… He trails off as the clone triggers their currently shared body to transform. Huh. You can still do that? The half ghost muses curiously

Jamie  has no time to respond. In a flash of light, the glowing white-haired form of Danny Phantom floats above the floor.

“What the-.” Tim jumps back, startled.

Duke covers his eyes, shouting about the brightness.

“Damn kid.” Jason shakes his head. “Warn a guy.”

And Damian pulls a knife. “Pit demon!”

Eyes popped wide, Jamie flickers back, hands raised. “Don’t!”

“Master Damian.” A chastising voice sounds from the door. All eyes turn to find the Waynes’ butler standing in the door, one eyebrow raised disappointedly. “Is there a reason you are holding our guests at knife point?”

Damian instantly lowers the knife, looking surprisingly remorseful.

Jamie takes a relieved breath, lowering his arms. “You weren’t joking about stabbing.” He frowns. “Wasn’t very nice to threaten Danny, the first time we meet.”

The preteen says nothing, simply scowling in response.

“Master Jamie, I presume.” The older man interrupts the tense moment. “Alfred Pennyworth at your service. Are you enjoying the cookies?”

The clone’s eyes literally brighten, nodding excitedly. “Yes! They’re really good!”

“I am glad to hear it.” Alfred smiles gratefully. Then, turning to address the rest of the group. “I believe some of you have nightly activities.”

“Oh yeah. We’ve got a… thing in B’s office.” Tim points a thumb in the direction.

“They know about us being the Bats.” Jason says, eyebrow raised.

“Right.” The shorter teen chuckles. “I’m still a little dazed from that light show.”

“Yeah.” Duke lowers his hand, squinting at the ghost. “You’re really bright.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Jamie blushes.

“Don’t worry about it.” Their neighbor offers. “Just warn everyone next time?”

Damian clicks his tongue. “That would be wise.”

With that, Jason, Tim, and Damian excuse themselves.

“We’ll see you in the morning.” Jason says, eyes softening. “Tell Alfred if you need me. I’ll drop whatever I’m doing for both of you, okay?”

Shyly, Jamie nods. “Okay.”

The vigilante ruffles the white hair. “Good night Jamie, Danny.”

“Good night.” At the second name, Jamie lands on the ground. “Uh Danny? Do you want to…”

Understanding the request, Danny switches places, taking back control of his body. His posture straightens. “It’s Danny again. Good night. And thanks Jason, for everything.”

The three vigilantes leave for patrol, Duke dismisses himself to go to bed, and the half ghost and clone are left with Alfred.

“I’m going to turn human so… you might want to look away.” Danny says.

The butler does so. After the light is passed… “May I show you to your room?”

With a nod, Danny agrees. A few twists and turns down vaguely familiar hallways find the three in front of an unassuming wooden door. Alfred opens it

“There are two beds, should separate sleeping arrangements be necessary. You will find an on-suite bathroom stocked with anything you may need. The closet and drawers also have a wide selection of clothes. Feel free to borrow anything you like. You may also leave your dirty articles outside the door, and I will have them washed for you.” He motions to the box on the wall. “You may call me on the intercom should you need anything.”

The half ghost gives a nod of understanding, stepping inside the room.

Alfred offers his own comforting nod. “Master Bruce said his waiting to hear back from Justice League Dark contacts but will have an update by the morning. Rest assured, young masters Danny and Jamie, the family is doing everything in its power to help you. All that is required of you is to rest. And try not to worry.”

The words provide some comfort. Still… “We’ll try.” Danny smiles dimly, anxiety creeping.

“Goodnight.��� The butler offers one last kind smile.

“Goodnight.”

With that, the door closes and Danny and Jamie are alone.

Notes:

I've started on the next chapter which will be a conversation between the twins. I need to think about it some more though, figure out exactly how much of Jamie's thought process needs to be revealed to Danny before Bruce's Justice League Dark contact shows up. 🤔 This story is really making me think for something that was supposed to be a fun little tangent. 😂

[rwbyrg]

Okay, can we talk about the fact that when Ruby thought she "killed" Oscar, that is when she broke. She just lost it after that. She fell over and you could feel the weight when she hits her knees. It just shows that Ruby really does care for him and if something happened to him, she probably wouldn't be able to go on....

Love and grief are two sides of one coin, and Ruby's fatal flaw is her grief. It is the force that both spurs her to action, and that which is her greatest weakness. This doesn't simply manifest as fighting for those she's already lost (her mother, Pyrrha, Penny, etc.), or fighting to protect those she hasn't lost yet (per her silver eyes: the preservation of life). These aren't just goals or missions; they are the reason she became a huntress in the first place. They are what Ruby Rose is. Except, after all that she has been through by the time she arrives in the Ever After, these foundations that she built her self image upon have withered.

Ruby's desire to honour those she's lost and protect those she hasn't has twisted into a much more insidious thing. A belief that she must save them, that she alone is responsible for it. Except, with every lost friend, with every failure, those fears have taken on greater power over her. They've shifted into the belief that - not only can she not save anyone - but that she is directly responsible for the deaths of those she's lost. That every time she tries to do the right thing, she will just cause more harm than good.

It is a fear so paralyzing, that she becomes unable to lift up her weapon - an extension of her self; a symbol of her identity - at all, lest taking action bring about what she fears most once again.

And then Neo goes and proves her right.

And of course she uses Oscar to do it.

In the Dojo Scene in V5, Oscar is the first - and for a while, only - person to get Ruby to open up and be vulnerable about her fears and the weight of her burdens. He is the only one to see through the façade she puts up before it's too late. That scene kicks off their relationship as something unique, showing us that Oscar is close to Ruby in a way that differs from the rest of the cast. A closeness that only grows with every show of mutual support between them, with every instance of Oscar noticing Ruby struggle where others have failed, and with every moment where their attachments to each other are tested. Also, it's no coincidence the core issue that Ruby bonds with Oscar over in the first place is his fear about the merge: a curse that slowly strips away Oscar's agency, autonomy, and identity.

I think I've said before that technically Neo could have used an illusion of anyone's death in the Tea House Scene, but that's not really true. To anyone paying attention, you know what's going to happen before the cane drops. Because Ruby is closer to Oscar than she is with others. Because Ruby is fighting desperately to save those she loves, while being terrified her actions might be the very reason she loses them in the first place. And while Ruby is wandering around the Ever After looking for a way home, Oscar is a world apart from her fighting a curse he is losing himself to; a fate that Ruby has no power to protect him from.

So of course it was an illusion of Oscar's death at her own hand that pushed her to her breaking point. He is the embodiment of her attachments (her greatest strength) and that which she fears losing the most (her greatest weakness), because he is the one she is most likely to lose if she can't win this fight.

It was always going to be Oscar. It was only ever going to be Oscar.

[ropebunnykant]

i always headcanonned all fk characters as switches but now i realize we've only ever seen firsts character portrayed as top and khaotungs as bottom yknow with the famous thrusting in ofs and kantbison red room scene. even if they had different dynamic it wasn't explicitly portrayed why is that? i wish we could see a change in the bl industry

oh yeah, it's definitely a thing in the bl industry where they classify one as the top and one as the bottom with zero nuance or change from series to series, and i think that's part of why top/bottom discourse can get so aggressive in the bl fandom. it's almost always the bigger/taller/more "masc" guy that gets the top role and it pushes such a problematic notion about how gay couples "should" interact and it's deeply annoying! especially because people in fandom will then get so attached to these ideas and the way they act about it is like. straight up mean and gross. like why do you care so much that some people think that first's characters occasionally bottom? why is that such a big deal for you?

and in a way it does circle back to the issue with people insisting on bison being a sub despite the fact that he, canonically and explicitly, is a dom. again, people have these fucked up ideas about the way gay couples should be and because bison is smaller and cuter and more feminine and we have also seen him explicitly bottoming, he has to be the sub. which is just extremely reductive and just repackaged misogyny and homophobia! (which, i've actually been thinking since the pilot trailer about how the inherent misogyny that comes from those assumptions also kind of feeds into the way misogyny was replaced from taming to the heart killers and the way those dynamics manifest in the show. like there's something VERY interesting about the lucentio/bianca couple aka the more "traditional" couple having their typical "top" as the man of the couple and their typical "bottom" play the woman vs the katherine/petruchio having the "top" playing the woman! there's a commentary going on there, i think, but unfortunately i haven't gotten to really writing anything about that cause usually there's so much else going on in the show that i kind of forget about that aspect sdkjfsdf)

that all being said, i also don't think fk's characters are necessarily forced into those boxes because of the industry at large, if that makes sense? like i feel like they're one of the few branded pairs that aren't put into those roles just because first is taller/bigger/more masculine. because the thing is, with akkayan we never actually see them having sex on screen, so we can't actually know for sure the positions they use. and while we see it with kantbison and sandray, i also think context is important.

with sandray, i think ray is just meant to be a character that has his preferences, and on top of that he's spoiled and sand is always going to give him whatever he wants. those things are part of their characters even without getting into their sexual dynamics, and one thing about jojo is that sex in his shows are actually a lot deeper than people realize - so, it makes sense that with that dynamic in mind, sand would be more "the giver" and ray "the taker" when it comes to sex, so to speak. and then with kantbison, i again think it's meant to play at the fact that bison is the dom. i think bison in a lot of ways is MEANT to seem contradictory to that kind of idea, and i also think he kind of gets off on that idea. like, i was actually talking to may @deliriousblue about this earlier, but i think it's why we see bison bottom, why we see him lean into his cuteness, why we see him call kant daddy. he likes leaning into the idea of a traditional sub while actually being the one in control! it's like a power thing for him.

i also just think firstkhao have been very lucky in the fact that in all three of the series that they've been main couples for, they've worked with very progressive and very queer directors. i mean, golf, who directed the eclipse, is trans and an activist and i believe used to be a member of parliament before they were forced out, if i'm remembering that correctly? and then jojo directed both only friends and the heart killers and jojo has never been shy about making his characters as queer as possible beyond just the aspect of having sex with the same gender, yknow? he also has never been shy about making his characters switches, either, or having them talk openly about positions, so again, i don't really view fk as being necessarily stereotyped - more that jojo specifically is a director that will use those stereotypes and the way the industry perceives things to his advantage, if that makes sense. like i think about how he chose to use firstkhao and forcebook in only friends for sandray and topmew, and then had neomark, who were an unbranded pair, for the couple that didn't end up together. like people complained about it, but again, i think it was jojo using the way the industry is set up to his advantage while also challenging those norms in other aspects of the show.

this got like. aggressively long for no reason, but basically i do agree that there should be a change in the way the industry puts their branded pairs in boxes, but i honestly feel like fk are one of the few that aren't ACTUALLY in that box, if that makes sense sdkjfhskf

[ejeffers1239]

This is your monthly reminder that trans girl periods are probably definitely real.

"ow ow ow ow ow"

- Erika

Serious discussion of/essay on trans woman periods under the cut:

While transgender women experiencing period symptoms is not something that has been scientifically researched with any rigor as far as I'm aware, enough trans women report the phenomena that it can reasonably be assumed real. The interesting thing is there are competing theories as to the mechanism behind trans women periods, which are as follows:

1. An empathetic or otherwise psychosomatic response, as in a trans woman has periods because she knows other women do. I don't like this, but we'll get back to that

2. Confirmation bias of unrelated symptoms, usually gastrointestinal, calling anything that happens in the general area a period.

3. Hormonal cycle from taking estrogen makes the body attempt a period, even without a uterus, accounting for cramping, mood changes, and changes to breast texture.

I don't think 1 or 2 are especially good explanations on their own, and taken in a vacuum sort of reinforce a conclusion and stereotype that transgender women are faking it (1) or eat nothing but junk food (2). However, these two definitely aren't unprecedented as factors, as long as you accept that there is a hormonal component (3).

Considering two of the most common phenomena reported with periods generally, we can get a broader picture. First is the phenomena of women syncing their cycles; this itself sports conflicting research and is mostly anecdotally observed, just like trans women periods. Nonetheless it could provide a point towards the empathetic response theory that would be more than making it up, rather, whatever about an estrogen-dominant body that (allegedly) causes sync is also applicable to transgender women. Second, consider the phenomena of period cravings. This phenomena is much more established than sync, it's commonly accepted that women on their periods tend to crave foods high in carbs, sugar, and salt. In other words, junk food. In that light the "trans women have had diets and call it a period" claim is not entirely dismissible, but is actually flipped in the ordering. It's entirely likely that trans women having their period regardless end up eating junk food, and cast doubt on to the validity of their own periods as a result.

As for my own personal anecdotes, I experience a cycle that is at least somewhat consistent. I don't notice symptoms every month, but many months, and they usually follow the same "structure" so to speak:

First, for about half a day, I get really horny. I believe this would technically be pre-period or a hormonal analogue to ovulation, nonetheless, I take the opportunity to have some fun, as pretty much nothing compares to how good it feels during this time.

Next, I have the junk food cravings, granted, I'm someone who eats taco bell weekly so, this doesn't represent an especially large change of diet for me, it's there though and if I'm cooking I might end up making something like mashed potatoes.

Finally, for around three days after that, I get really bloated and have some "typical" period symptoms: pain in my abdomen, the bloating itself, sore breasts, and even period shits. This is where I am while writing this post and we'll, to reiterate, "ow ow ow ow ow."

To me, this is far to specific of a sequence of events to be fake, even if it's not strictly monthly, and trans women have factors like missing estrogen doses or the presence/lack of progesterone that could influence that timing away from perfectly routine. Ultimately I'm another anecdote in a sea of anecdotes but, I choose to believe trans girl periods are real and biologically based, and I hope I've made a compelling argument supporting that here. This blog is made possible by boredom and mania mutuals like you, thank you!

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

i yearn for ponyboy angst after johnny and dally die and for once he needs darry and not soda...or more of the curtis bros grieving their parents/their friends/their childhoods together. just curtis bro angst all day every day. love ur stuff!

AGH!! TY LOVE!! this ask has been truly rottin' in my brain I thought about it durin' my ENTIRE shift today!! I hope you like it!! fic under the cut!!

also song >:D

"Pony?" Darry's sayin' my name in a way that implies he's been sayin' it a while. I blink at him 'n I don't know where I've been. My fingers are all wrapped up in my jeans, white-knuckled. I try to relax but my body doesn't listen to me one bit, so I forget it.

"I've been callin' you, where were you at?" He crosses the room 'n taps a finger gently to my temple, brushin' my bangs off my forehead.

I shrug 'n he worries at his lip. "Somewhere else, I guess." Darry looks stricken but that's how he always looks nowadays: worried.

"I gotta talk to you about your hair, Pony baby." I inhale sharply 'n Darry's face twists up a little more. He moves all slow, eases down onto the couch beside me 'n wraps an arm around my shoulders like I might fall to pieces.

"I'm not colorin' it I swear to God I'm not-" Steve had made a joke, some comment, maybe even just a suggestion, that I dye my hair back to its normal color. I don't think he meant anythin' bad by it. I dunno. I can see it more now. Darry's rough 'cause he's scared. Steve was mean when he meant to be kind. I think Dallas was like that. Rough 'cause he didn't know how to be soft.

I think I said somethin' awful to him. I was always doin' that. Bein' cruel 'cause it all hurt so bad. Last week Darry 'n I had fought 'cause it's all we knew how to do 'n I'd told him I bet he wished I had died that night. Just like-

I didn't mean it. I never meant it. I didn't know how to not mean it.

"Honey?" I shake my head. Darry's lookin' at me again with big scared eyes 'n I know I've done it again. Gone somewhere.

"Sorry." Darry cups the side of my face, there are new wrinkles alongside his eyes. He always looks like he's just waitin' for somethin' bad to happen.

"S'ok, baby. I ain't gonna make you do nothin' to your hair." Soda's beside me now, too. I don't remember when he got there. "We've been talkin' 'n baby... we need you to let us help you wash it."

I flinch. Hard. Straight back into Soda's arm 'n know he had it there, ready to brace me. "No." Darry sighs, glances over my head, 'n Soda gathers me up into his arms.

"Look, honey. I'm not gonna make you. But I think... you'll feel a bit better. You don't gotta take a shower or nothin'. Maybe a bath?" Darry tries, reachin' out 'n coverin' my hand in his.

"No." I don't know what it was. I'd gone through the damn fire 'n come out scared of the fuckin' water. That night in the fountain was a million years ago. Glory, I don't know how I had space in my head to even remember it.

But I did. Fuck. I did.

"Hey Pony? Can we try somethin' else then? If you humor me?" Soda's tone is pliant 'n a little too bouncy. It gets like that sometimes. But someone has to be alright. So we don't mention it.

He climbs off the couch, pulls me gently up 'n I don't fight it. Darry's got a hand on my shoulder 'n Soda's got his arms around me still 'n they were like this more. Since. Like if they weren't always touchin' me I'd fade right away into nothin'. Sometimes it was nice. Sometimes it made me want to bite 'n tear 'n fuckin' scream.

The kitchen counter is clear, a couple towels folded onto the table, a chair tipped back against the sink. Soda guides me over to the chair, asks me a million questions in those big brown eyes he has that I don't know how to go about answerin'.

Are you fine? Is this fine? Does this remind you of- Does this remind you- Does this-

"Look, if you sit here you can rest your head back 'n I can wash your hair out without havin' to get you any closer to the water. D'ya think... that's somethin' you can stomach?" Soda's off to my side doin' all the talkin' but I'm lookin' straight out at Darry. He's still got a hand on my shoulder 'n Jesus. Has he always looked at me like that?

He shifts his weight 'n furrows his brow. His hand comes up slowly like I'm a spooked animal that might bolt. Some kicked dog. Some scared foal. He cups the side of my face 'n it occurs to me. It's the same place he'd once struck.

Odd. Both times touched in fear. A million years apart. I'm not even sure he notices.

"Pony?" I finally tear my eyes off Darry 'n when I twist my head, he lets his hand fall back to my shoulder.

"Ok." My voice aches. It always does. Maybe from the smoke. Maybe from the cold burn of that still water rottin' in my lungs even now. "Ok, I'll try." The look that Soda 'n Darry shoots over my head is filled with such a palpable relief I nearly cry.

"Ok, baby. I know this isn't easy. D'you think you can... take his jacket off?" Soda already has both hands around my biceps, just gently restin' there like he knows I'm gonna flinch again. "I ain't gonna take it-" My eyes flicker to Darry 'n hurt flashes across his face (not meanin' it, not knowin' how not to)- "'n neither is Dar. I just don't wanna get it wet 'n mess it up, ok hon? But if it's too much I can just try my best to avoid it?"

I clutch at the collar. 'N I can hear his voice clear as day. You better not fuck that leather up. You have no idea how much trouble it was to steal.

'N I almost laugh. Almost.

"He'd kill me if I let you give it the kitchen sink treatment." 'N my voice sounds all thick in my ears. I want to laugh. I want Dallas to knock me up the back of my head for even thinkin' of it. I want-

"Oh, Ponybaby." Soda's arms are around me again. I'm cryin'. When did I start cryin'? Why? 'N it's one of those times I don't want them to hold me. Jesus. It makes me want to run. To let the ache in my throat dissolve into the burn in my lungs. I want to bite 'n tear 'n scream.

But all I can do is sit there. Stiff in the arms I wish I could melt into.

"Soda." Darry drops a hand onto his shoulder 'n gently pries him off of me. When he takes his face out of my neck his cheeks are wet 'n I don't know whether it's my tears or his. "He's not-"

Here.

For a long moment, none of us move. Like a gunfight. Or a caged animal. 'N then I drag blunt nails under my eyes 'n scrub my face 'n Darry blows out a long breath like he'd been holdin' it. He lets go of Soda 'n we all go back to pretendin' nothin' happened. Or at least I do.

"Do you... want help?" When I look down my knuckles are white against the collar. I flex my fingers 'n they burn like that time I'd split them against some socs' jaw. Or that night Johnny 'n I had slept in the backyard out under the stars 'n the cold scalded along my hands 'n cracked my skin 'n I'd bled 'n bled 'n bled-

"Don't make me do it." 'N when I'd looked up at Darry I knew he understood what I meant. I squeezed my eyes shut 'n felt hands roughened by labors of love that had done nothin' but leave him with callouses 'n scars rest at my neck. He pulls the jacket off quickly 'n the rush of winter air slinkin' through the cracks we'd never be able to seal up scorches against my bare arms. I don't open my eyes until Darry presses the bundle to my chest.

When I look to Soda again, his face is dry 'n he's wearin' this encouragin' little smile that tugs too tight on the edges of his mouth. "You ready, Pony?"

I nod. Just a bob of my chin that takes every last ounce of strength in me. Darry turns, yanks another chair close to my side 'n Soda guides my head down to the sink.

The tap flips on. A lonely titterin' against the empty bowl. I don't control anythin' that happens after. Not the low, whimperin' sob that snakes out of my mouth. Not the way my shoulders jar up 'n away. Not my nails bitin' into Darry's arm so hard they leave bloody, half moons in their wake.

"No. Soda, no. Soda. I can't." Darry smooths one hand over my forehead 'n I reach for his wrist, catch it tight 'n hold on like if I don't let go he can keep me out of that night. If I can keep him here I can't go back.

"Pony?" Soda drops down so he can see my face. Reaches out to wrap me in his arms 'n I flinch. Fuckin' flinch. Right back 'n up into Darry's lap.

'N none of us are movin' again. Soda's falterin' in place, arms half reached out 'n face a mask of hurt 'n Jesus why do I always hurt the people I love? Why can't I stop bitin' the hand that wants to hold me?

"What is it, Pony? Are you here?" 'N I can't make my voice or body or anythin' work the way it should. But before I can stop it I choke out-

"Darry." 'N Darry lets out a little noise from somewhere so far in the back of his throat it comes out like a whimper.

"Oh, little colt." 'N suddenly his arms are around me again. My face is pressed into his chest 'n I'm heavin' deep sobs that have been rottin' in my chest for too long. Since before Dallas or Johnny. Before the week in the church or that night in the park. Maybe since Mama. Since Daddy. Since the last person to call me that was put in the freezin' Tusla earth.

"I love you." 'N it's whispery 'n waverin' 'n also the surest thing I've ever heard. 'N this time when I feel Soda return to my side, feel Darry open his arms 'n hold us both like were disappearin' before his eyes I just let myself be held. "You're here."

I am.

'N then he's shiftin' 'n I'm clutchin' his shirt tighter 'n he's pettin' my hair 'n tippin' my head back 'n not makin' me let him go though I'm too goddamn old 'n too big to be beggin' for my older brother.

"Keep your eyes closed, colt." 'N Soda's whisperin' somethin' low 'n soft 'n just louder than the sound the tap makes as it drip drip drips against the sink. 'N when the water runs along my temples 'n along the line of the scar that I'll carry until I die from the night I lost two brothers I don't think of the fountain.

No.

I think about the hot afternoon I won my first track race, felt sweat slide along my brow 'n saw the sun glint off Dallas' silver tooth even from way up in the stands. Hear the whoop of his voice still marred thick 'n heavy with his New York drawl. I think of runnin' home through the lot dodgin' the fat rain drops 'n stoppin' only to let Johnny catch up. Throwin' my head back 'n laughin'. Of the spray of a passin' car. I think of Soda laughin' as he flicks the spatterin' of water left on his hands at my face when we finish the dishes 'n mama not even scoldin' us.

I think of Darry's hands wet from the laundry as he runs a thumb absently over my face. Memorizin' it with calloused fingers when he thinks I've dropped off to sleep. The gentleness of his achin' love for us. Low 'n constant 'n how had I ever missed it?

"We're done, honey." 'N then I'm buried in his chest again, Dallas' jacket pressed against my stomach 'n Johnny's letter tucked into the inside pocket closest to my heart. Bangs drippin' cold between my brow, along my nose, 'n minglin' with tears never gone long enough to dry. 'N for the first time since it all, I'm right here. 'N it doesn't even hurt. It just aches.

[gayofthefae]

We've talked about how while everything is taken seriously for Byler, even jokes being only jokes they tell in bonding and not us laughing AT them, while only platonic or sad moments are treated that way for Milkvan but romance is consistently treated as funny in a way that they're not in on (see: the entirety of season 3) and therefore we are laughing AT them, but let's also talk about how unimportant scenes are cut.

And funny isn't "important". It can serve another purpose - Steve's awkward flirting with Nancy in 4x05 also advances their romantic plot which leads to her friendship with Robin, for example, important. He is also referencing Dustin here, who he has been behaving oddly towards and is a big motive for his behavior this whole season to be answered.

So what, then, is the purpose of Mike and El's "comedic" moments? Oh, they broke up that way to be funny? Wrong. They broke up that way because the writers wanted them to break up and wrote it to fly under the radar and be a little nicer for you. If season 3 for them was just filler comedy, why even have it at all? Why not just cut to the chase? They said themselves the pacing ended up TOO condensed with only 4 seasons but that their original plan was 4, so with our current knowledge, it would make no difference and there would be no need to "fill" anything!

But it was important. It did mean something. Just like Mike's inability to say "I love you" was played for laughs in season 3 only to trick you into thinking it was resolved before calling you out for that assumption and bringing it back serious, all their issues have a purpose. Everything "funny" they do or say about their romance is just something under the radar to later be brought back to your face and say "why did you dismiss that?"

I've said before, season 4 Mike and El is just season 3 Mike and El in a different tone. Like those "movies in a different genre" trailers. It isn't funny anymore. But it's the same exact events. And what that's saying is "this was always what was happening, you just weren't taking it seriously before - but they always were".

Jokes don't mean pointless here. Jokes mean distinct setups they want you to miss.

They love their rewatchability. They want it overtly present but consistently dismissed on the first watch. How? Make it funny. But the funny is never the reason. The funny is always the cover. And the reason is very very important.

So no. They didn't break up for comedy. Had it not been comedic, it wouldn't have been absent. It just would have looked like this:

It isn't Mike and El endgame but sometimes there's conflict. It's Mike and El relationship issues but sometimes they're hidden.

Sometimes they can be swept under the rug. Sometimes, Mike can lie that everything is okay and you'll believe him. She'll believe him. They didn't make it mean nothing. They wanted you to think it meant nothing. So you'd be right there with her, with him, with Will - as always - and with everybody.

But you saw. It was important enough that you saw it for it to be in the final cut.

If your best argument for the fact that Mike and El start having problems as soon as they get together is "filler" then I've gotta teach you about this thing called "writing". Everything is important. They don't have the most conflict because they're the 'main couple'. And they don't have the most conflict because it's funnier that way. They have the most conflict because there's a cause of it. A plot-pertinent cause that they couldn't cut even when they go down to the bare essentials.