#complete one shot

[simkoos]

needed some fresh uni students for my current save and got a little carried away 🥴🤎

from left to right;

milan, latisha, asia, jerrod, demi, maegan, brooks, & shawna

[robiinurheart33]

I’m obsessed with ghost being obsessed with soap.

The way he knows tidbits and fun facts about soap is just unparalleled to everyone despite ghost seeming unbothered. They go on missions together more than anyone else in the task force or god forbid, any other military they’re working with. As much as military life would like you to believe, there’s just as much waiting and planning than there is executing.

Soap is notoriously not patient. Ghost is, but only when it comes to work. Anything else he doesn’t have the time nor patience to deal with it. Unless it comes to Johnny. But no one will ever know that except for Ghost himself. But back to the point, they’re mainly on missions together and they stakeout together, they hide in itchy bushes for hours together, they stay in each other’s space, no matter if they want the other to or not. Soap cannot keep his yapper shut for the life of him and he’ll go stir crazy if he has to stay still for 2 whole hours. So he talks. Whispers, really so as to not give their position away. Ghost is a professional after all, he can split his concentration between the mission and Johnny. It’s endurance training. (Or whatever he tells himself anyways.)

Soap doesn’t mind the mindless talking if it helps him concentrate, and if Ghost doesn’t seem to be bothered then it’s all good. He knows that he isn’t actually actively listening, which is okay. He’s not offended, per se, but he feels an uncomfortable tightness in his chest whenever he looks back at Ghost as if it were an actual conversation to be met with nothing. Soap is a professional and damn good at his job at that, so he doesn’t let that bother him. (He doesn’t.)

One hazy night, Soap and Ghost (Ghost and Soap) are staking out a warehouse across the street, a bone-deep exhaustion hangs in the air as they both slump in their seats near the open windows. Cicadas make themselves known and the humidity doesn’t let down even in the night. Soap’s eyes are hazy, blinking ever so slowly and almost slipping shut for good a few times before he jolts himself awake.

“Go to sleep, Sargent.” Sargent. Ghost’s rough but tired voice cuts through his mind as he slides open his eyes again, not knowing they were closed in the first place. He rolls his head over to Ghost, where he’s sitting rigidly upright. To anyone, it would seem like he’s the picture of alertness, eyes trained out the window, posture perfect. But to Johnny, he can see that his fists are clenched too tight, his gun is still strapped to his side, and he hasn’t even taken a shower yet, when Johnny already has.

Guilt pangs softly in his chest, and he purses his lips in thought. Ghost wouldn’t take a shower now seeing that Soap was so tired. He would probably stay up the whole night staring out the window, sweat trickling uncomfortably down his back but still endure it for the opportunity for Soap to rest. He isn’t stupid, he knows there’s something between them that they can’t name, a connection that isn’t quite friends, but crosses the line of professionalism. Whether Ghost knows that or not is still up in the air for grabs. He pushes himself off the chair with a soft groan, sliding his bare feet over the wooden floors to the bathroom. He splashes cooling water on his face and rubs his eyes, blinking harshly. He stares at Soap in the mirror, and Johnny bristles a bit. He looks like pure shit. His eyes are bloodshot and tired, eye bags threatening to pull his eyelids closed, and he hasn’t shaved in quite a few days. Definitely not up to military regulation. He doesn’t bother to clock in the rest of himself now, wanting to focus more on Ghost than himself.

He walks back out to the shared living room, which is also their bedroom and kitchen, and behind Ghost’s chair. He bends down to swiftly unclip his vest off.

“Wha’ are you doing?” He doesn’t even sound annoyed, just tired.

“Gettin’ all this shite offa’ ya.” Soap doesn’t need to look to know that Ghost is probably even more tired than him. His Lieutenant with all the responsibilities under the sky, and no one to share that burden with.

The vest falls with a heavy thump on the ground and Johnny continues to clatter the remaining knives and guns onto the table, right beside their haphazardly placed maps for future ambushes. He pulls a knife from the sole of his boot, and Ghost huffs in amusement.

“Didn’t know you knew about that one, Johnny.” He’s Johnny now.

“I know everything about you.” It scares him a bit how it slips out that easily, but it scares him even more that he doesn’t take it back.

Ghost’s eyes bore into the side of his skull as he throws the rest of the equipment onto the table, keeping a gun in the pocket of his cotton pants. Johnny juts his chin towards the bathroom, arms akimbo.

“Go shower.” he doesn’t bother with a jab now, God knows they’re both off the table for that. It’s come to a point in the night where jokes lay to rest and honestly is the only thing left to say.

Ghost doesn’t look like he’s going to move and Johnny won’t blame him. He knows how hard it is to leave your post, how you scream at your body to move but nothing works. Nothing happens. Johnny’s eyes eventually hone in on Ghost’s eyes, trying to get a grip of what he’s feeling at the moment. Brown. It’s stupid, but Soap’s never been good with all the metaphorical side of describing things. Ghost’s eyes are brown. It’s brown. And it looks soft around the edges, calm and present, moving ever so slightly as he looks back at him. And they look at each other. And Johnny melts. He wants to melt and be safe in Ghost’s eyes and there’s nothing wrong now, there can never be anything wrong. How could it when the stars and the moon crafted them to orbit around each other so perfectly and intimately? And how could anything go wrong when this is the most right Johnny has ever felt in his life?

He feels his hand rise like silk, cupping Ghost’s cheek, like he’s done it so many times before. He hasn’t. Johnny’s not so sure what makes tonight different, or what changed, but he doesn’t want to question it. He’s not jinxing or screwing anything up this time. The cheekbone of the plastic skull digs into the palm of his hand and Ghost’s eyes droop. His thumb drags up and down, up and down right under his eye, not breaking the eye contact he has with Simon. He watches in real time as his eyes dilate and flutter, his head tipping forward, as if he could feel his touch over the plastic and the balaclava. Before Simon’s head could fall forward, eyes finally closing, Johnny grasps his face with both hands, murmuring.

“Hey, big guy. Not yet.” Simon’s eyes open again, looking up at him and Johnny wants to cry at how desperately he wants him to just relax right now, but he knows that if he isn’t completely safe and comfortable he’s be screaming awake 2 hours later.

“Shower.” He whispers. Ghost seems to snap back into reality slightly, standing up straight and towering over Johnny once more. Like this, his eyes seem black in the shadows, and things are jagged and sharp again. He grunts once, stepping out of their safe bubble and sliding into the bathroom, closing and locking the door with a click.

Johnny sighs softly as he sits down on Ghost’s seat, the wood still warm as he looks out the window. The gun burns where it’s pressed against his thigh, but maybe that’s just the absurd heat at the moment. His eyes are trained on the warehouse, leaning his elbows on his knees and letting his mind drift off for a bit. There’s no one in the warehouse at the moment, and any movement would be extremely obvious in the dead of night so he figured it would be okay.

Johnny thought of his family. He thought of the soft yearning he felt whenever he wanted to be small and tucked in his mother’s arms again. he thought of how accepted he felt if one of his older sisters threw an arm around his shoulder. He thought of his home back in Scotland, an empty living room with an aging woman who would spend the rest of her life waiting for children that were not guaranteed to come back. The sadness plagued his mind whenever he was alone, wishing he could come back as soon as possible to his home. To what? Put on the obnoxious military persona and acting as if he were immortal to not worry his family? He knows better than that. He knows he’s soft and pliable, that no matter how many muscles he builds, his body will always cave to a bullet. He knows his family will always worry and he can’t do anything about it.

Ghost steps out of the shower and Soap’s thoughts dissipate, head tilting in his direction. He’s swapped his hard skull mask for a clean balaclava, traditional hoodie and sweatpants. He looks…domestic, in a way. A too big man standing in a too small hallway, hunched over and fatigue evident. Love, Johnny realises, comes in many shapes and forms, but it all takes root in the same place.

Simon lumbers over to stand behind his chair, eyes boring down to meet his. Their positions have swapped now, Simon looking down while Johnny reaches up to meet his. Love is a gentle thing. Soap realises with a calmness that shouldn’t be there that he couldn’t pick between his family and Simon. His family meant the whole world to him, but Simon was his sunlight and his saviour. They floated in a nice limbo between everything, Simon and Johnny. Johnny and Simon. Love is a gentle thing.

“Go to sleep, Johnny. you’re tired.”

“You don’t kno’ that.” He’s slurring.

“I know everything about you.” The line is thrown back into his face, and Johnny’s eyes widen. He can feel the butterflies in his stomach, twisting in an exhilarating way. He swallows and watches Simon stare at his Adam’s apple bob up and down, eyes crinkling. Johnny’s a bit speechless, partly due to overwhelming fondness and partly due to his body screaming for a rest. Simon cares. He cares for Johnny. He thinks about him. He cares. He cares. He cares.

Love is a gentle thing.

“Aye.” John whispers.

All is right in the world, because Simon cares and his mother is at home waiting for him, and he is loved. Johnny is told to sleep, and so he will.

[bamsara]

trying to figure out if the continued nausea is related to intense stress and travel schedule or something simple like food poisoning or an infection

[catcomixzstudios]

I can barely begin to express how much the course of my life has been altered because of a 40 minute highlight video done by @jelloapocalypse and friends riffing over a 20 year old sky pirate game.

I made an off-handed comment after watching it together with two of my longtime friends, about how much I wish I had what Vyrsa had, and one of those friends STRAIGHT-UP TELLS ME that her and her wife have been crushing on me for a while.

The feeling was mutual, though I'd been of course hesitant to even hint at it.

Anyway now a few months later, we're a thruple, and we decided to honor the genesis of our relationship by cosplaying as the trio that made it a reality for my 30th birthday!

PinkCatNinja, me (CatComixzStudios), and ArtieStokes as Aika, Vyce Vyrsa, and Fina respectively, from SKIES OF ARCADIA!

And as a bonus, a comment I left on the video before my egg would crack completely (was still IDing as genderfluid at the time)

[porcelana-r0ta]

JOYRIDE

Fandoms: Batman, Danny Phantom

Relationship: Dan Phantom/Jason Todd

Word Count: 3,823

Ao3 Link: Available only to registered users

Summary:

Dan doesn't want to join his Habitudes group for their dumb community service project, which is why he lets two idiot goons kidnap him off the streets. When said goons turn out to work for The Joker, Dan decides to do something about him, maniac to maniac.

Or: The Joker tries to live stream a ransom, but ends up live streaming his own execution.

xxXxx

When Dan Nightingale is grabbed off the streets of Gotham, he makes a half-hearted struggle, just so he can seem human. The kiddie hero business and the indiscriminate genocidal tendencies no longer call to him like they used to, and while he’s still an impatient person who is intolerant of disruptive bullshit, he needs a little excitement in his life. 

Plus, he wants an excuse to get out of his Habitudes community service project. His pretentious trust fund baby groupmates chose to volunteer at some fucking coffee shop instead of something normal, like a hospital or an animal shelter. (Dan didn’t even know a coffee shop was an option, but anything goes for wealthy elites who want to roleplay as an impoverished barista, apparently.) Well, Jay Peters wasn’t so bad, and he was just as irritated as Dan was about the others’ choice. Plus, the chill that settles into Dan’s unused lungs when the other student is around shows that he’s at least Death-touched like him, even if they’ve never acknowledged that to each other. 

So, yeah. He lets himself be kidnapped by two goons, even if he could easily break free and make their insides their outsides. It could be interesting! Enrichment in his pandimensional parole! Everyone’s got to have fun sometimes! It’s like a little joyride, as a treat! But he isn’t the one committing the crime! How quaint!

Dan is a very polite captive. He lets himself be pulled into a creeper van with minimal resistance. He lets the goons zip tie his hands. He lets them put a black bag over his head, even though it smells of weed. He doesn’t count the number of turns they take, nor does he try to talk them into letting him go. In fact, he doesn’t say anything. When they eventually park, he allows the men to pull him out of the creeper van and into some building—likely a warehouse, judging by the echo of their footsteps on the floor. And finally, he lets the goons cut off the zip ties around his wrists and then tie them to the metal arms of a chair. 

He’s a great captive. And he’s so going to be excused from that stupid Habitudes community service project!

He’s content to sit and wait. The Bats of Gotham City usually have a good response time for villain bullshit, and if they don’t, then it’s not like any Fear gas or sex pollen will affect him. Dan’s not really human anymore, even if he is capable of looking so. 

Dan does not have to wait long. The footsteps increase and then stop altogether, and then a cackle fills the air. “Camera man ready? Mics? Charges?” The voice is familiar, yet grating. Where has he heard it before? In his past future, maybe?

“Yes, sir,” comes the reply from several different people. 

A pleased cackle, “Then let’s get started!”

“We are live in three… two…” 

At the silent one, the cackle echoes through the room once again. “Hello, ladies and gentlemen of Gotham City and beyond! I’m your favorite Joker, LIVE! With one of your favorite Wayne children!” 

Dan, who has been relatively chill this whole time, tenses. The Joker. That’s why he recognizes that cackle and voice. He had killed the clown before in his original timeline. Ugh, clowns. He fucking hates clowns. Hates their stupid pale makeup and their stupid dumb wigs and their exaggerated eyes and he fucking hates how they make him feel like he’s not in control. 

And what was that about a Wayne? 

Dan doesn’t think killing someone like The Joker in his original timeline should be held against him. Honestly, the guy is a megalomaniacal terrorist who abuses the guise of mental illness to get away with crimes against humanity. Dan had at least owned up to his own sanity, and never tried to hide from the law or anything like that. He just kind of… killed the law. 

….ACAB? 

A hand suddenly grips at the bag on his head, grabbing hair with fabric. “That’s right, folks! Here’s Gotham’s beloved Dick Grayson!” The bag is yanked off his head, revealing Dan in all his scowling glory. And Dan is a lot of things, but an exact Dick Grayson copy he is not, so while the goons may have mistaken him as Grayson, The Joker does not. 

He pauses, studying Dan’s face. Dan raises a mocking eyebrow, then looks around the warehouse. 

It’s empty and dimly lit, but it’s not a problem for his superior vision. The metal walls are an ugly beige and the floor is a gray cement, its color only broken by mysterious brown stains, and now the discarded black bag. Dan is up against a wall, surrounded by filming equipment. The camera in question is just a fucking iPhone 12 attached to a ring light. There’s one goon behind the camera, moderating the live stream. There is another goon holding a boom mic above Dan and The Joker, and there are four others behind the camera. All of the goons who are not handling equipment are holding toy musket guns. It is probably safe to assume that there are similarly armed goons guarding the doors that Dan cannot see from his position tied to a chair. Likely two goons per exit. In a warehouse of this size, there have to be at least six more goons that Dan isn’t seeing. 

The Joker grits his teeth. “Who brought the Grayson kid here.” It’s not a question so much as it is a demand. 

“We did, boss,” two goons pipe up proudly from behind the camera. 

“Why don’t you two come up on camera so I can congratulate you for good work?” The Joker grins beseechingly. 

One of the two goons, the blond, shuffles nervously at this, whereas the other puffs out his chest. So only one has any brain cells. 

The prideful one grabs his comrade by the arm and drags him up to the camera with Dan and The Joker. They stand in front of Dan, blocking him from the camera’s view.

“I always reward good work, you see,” he says to his henchmen. “Now, you think this is good work?” 

“Yes, sir,” says Pride, while Blond frowns. 

“Take a good look at his face.” The villain gestures angrily to Dan’s unimpressed face. “What do you see?” 

“Dick Grayson, sir,” 

Blond shuffles, “He looks like he isn’t scared.” 

“No! Wrong! This isn’t Dick Grayson! This– This is some—” The Joker takes another glance at Dan, noting the black Gotham U hoodie that hides his muscles. “This is some fucking college twink!”

“Twink?” Dan mutters to himself, disgruntled. Sure, the hoodie is baggy and he’s seated instead of standing, but do those two things add up to him looking like a twink? 

The color has drained out of even Pride’s face at The Joker’s words. “Sir, please—”

But The Joker is already pulling out a comically large toy gun that probably has real bullets, and Dan sighs. It would probably be bad for his parole if he let a bunch of humans die in front of him. 

He phases out of the ropes binding him, safe from view with the two idiots in front of him. Then, he kicks The Joker down to the floor, sending the toy gun scattering across the cement floor of the warehouse. He stands and knocks Pride and Blond’s heads together, knocking them out as The Joker screeches with rage. 

The goons behind the camera aim their guns, but Dan is already moving behind the camera. He snags the guns out of their hands, snapping them in half with strength he doesn’t even have to think about. He moves so fast that at first they don’t even realize what’s happened. By the time they connect their missing firearms to the broken bits of metal on the floor, Dan has already clobbered them over the head, knocking them unconscious. 

He takes out the cameraman, too, and the goon holding the boom mic. Then, in mere seconds, he takes out all the goons at each exit, and he’s back at the filming station by the time The Joker has staggered to his feet. His original estimate had been off by two—there were eight other goons in total. 

Dan checks the iPhone—still live streaming. On TikTok, of all the goddamn apps. The comments are going wild on what’s going on: where’s the college student, how did he kick The Joker like that, do you guys think that those two goons have brain damage now, what was that metal scraping sound, where is The Joker? 

“Hey, brat!” snarls The Joker, clutching at his ribs. “That was not part of the script.”

Dan hates clowns, and he especially hates The Joker. Sure, Dan wiped out nearly all of humanity. Who doesn’t have a bad decade of villainous activity? But he did it quickly, and he didn’t do it under the guise of insanity. He owned up to it. And if Dan’s being honest, he’s… disgusted by it all now, even if it hurts himself to admit. 

If Dan isn’t human, then neither is The Joker. 

Still off camera, Dan moves so fast he basically teleports in front of The Joker. The other man stumbles back, but Dan reaches out and grabs him by the throat. He chokes and claws at Dan, but Dan isn’t human anymore, and so his nails catch on nothing but the cloth of his hoodie. He doesn’t even feel it.

He drags The Joker to the chair in front of the still live camera and shoves him into it. While he recovers from being choked, gasping and shuddering and so fucking human , Dan forces his hands behind him and uses the ropes he’d phased out of to tie The Joker up. When he ties the last knot, Dan stands tall, staring into the camera. 

“Hello, friends and family,” he greets the audience. He gives a small smile, and he makes sure that he is perfectly, utterly human with normal blue eyes and normal black hair and normal human skin. “As you can see, things have turned around for The Joker here. Now, I’m sure his original intent was to ransom out the Wayne kid, and it would be a shame to see that hard work and planning go to waste on a mistake, wouldn’t it? So why don’t we hold a… reverse ransom? Only, I don’t need funds. I’ll accept donations. My venmo is vladsucks03. My cashapp is dannight07.”

Dan’s smile grows into a wide grin. “Feel free to donate if you like. But even not a single person donates, The Joker dies today.” 

The Joker spits out a gasping laugh, “Ha! You think you can kill me? I gotta admit, that’s a good joke. But Batman—”

“Batman what?” Dan asks, stepping off camera to grab the black bag on the floor. He shoves it halfway into his pocket. He walks to The Joker’s toy gun, the only one he hadn’t broken, and he picks it up. 

“Batman is already on his way here,” The Joker says. “He always is by this point.”

“And Batman will save you?” Dan snorts. He moves to check the live stream, comments coming in so fast that the only reason he can read them is because he’s not human anymore. 

Is this for real

fuck yeah kill that guy

💥🔫🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

extremely common gotham uni W

im donating 50$ rn

Can we vote on how joker dies

Lol does he fr think that batman would help him

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Does anyone else find this incredibly attractive or is it just me 😳

guys my joker/batman fic update is gonna slap after this

Joker’s cooked

bro is about to have ao3 level donations

Hey what’s his cashapp again

Omg i think that guy is in my bio class

I’ll donate when hes acc dead

doin god's work 🥹👍

If bro doesnt do it he’s cooked

This guy is gonna have infinite rizz if he pulls this off

The Joker scoffs, “Of course he will. He’s done it before.”

Dan yanks his gaze from the comments to The Joker’s face, “What?”

The Joker nods his head up arrogantly. “Batsy can’t live without me. He saved me after fickle-ickle Nightwing killed me.” 

“Huh.” Dan blinks consideringly, switching his gaze back to the comments. They’re all freaking out about this new information. He steps back into the camera frame, pulling the hammer back on the toy gun. “Then I’ll just have to make sure it sticks.” 

He points the gun at The Joker’s face and fires. As expected, rainbow confetti is the only thing that flies out, dusting over The Joker in celebration of what is to come. 

The Joker laughs. 

“Cute,” says Dan. He walks around The Joker to stand behind him, directly in front of the camera. He removes the black bag from his pocket and puts it over The Joker’s face. 

He shoves the muzzle of the gun into the back of The Joker’s skull. Pulling back the hammer, he asks, “Any last words?” 

He pulls the trigger before The Joker can say anything. It’s funny. As expected, the second gunshot is a real bullet. The Joker’s head and body jerks forward. Blood splatters on Dan’s face, but it’s mostly on the floor and the unconscious Blond and Pride and on The Joker himself. 

For a moment, Dan can only stare. The Joker’s body is crumbled in on itself, held up only by the bindings on his arms to a chair nailed to the ground. 

He feels big. He feels good. 

He feels… dirty.

He clears his throat. He drops the gun. He lifts up the soaking black bag up just enough to check for a pulse. After thirty seconds of nothing, he says, “Well, that’s the end of The Joker.” 

He looks up, staring into the camera lens, and he chuckles. “I missed my community service project because of this bozo. You guys think my professor will accept this as community service?”

You guys think this will affect my ghost parole? he doesn’t ask. 

He bends down to check the pockets of Blond. He finds his phone and uses Blond’s thumbprint to bypass the password. His stomach curdles at the home screen—a picture of Blond and a little girl with his eyes and his nose. His eyes burn and he calls 911, trying not to blink.

“911 dispatch. What is your emergency?”

“Yeah, uh, I killed The Joker. But he kidnapped me first, so. Turnabout.” 

“You— sorry, you what?”

“I killed The Joker. He’s dead. I checked his pulse and everything.”

“O-oh.” The woman on dispatch sounds strangled. There are muffled sounds, frantic, that the receiver only barely picks up. Dan wonders what she’s doing, Asking for verification? Trying to triangulate his location? Celebrating the fucking good news? “Do you know where you are, sir?”

“Some warehouse, I guess. Probably at the docks. Do you want me to check?”

“No, sir, please stay where you are if there are no immediate threats.”

“Got it.” He clicks his tongue. 

“Can you tell me your name, sir? Are you injured somewhere?”

“I’m Dan. Uh, Dan Nightingale. I guess he thought I was the Grayson kid. Um. Dick Grayson, I mean. And no, I’m fine. His henchmen are injured and unconscious, though.” 

“Right. Okay. Hi, Dan. I’m Claire. First responders and patrol units are on their way to your location now.”

“Well, that’s good, I guess.” He almost wants to ask if she thinks that he’ll end up in Arkham for this, but he’s pretty sure that there’s no jury on Earth that would convict him. Well, maybe not. He did ask for donations for murdering The Joker, after all. That might put a damper on his defense. 

“Dan?” asks Claire. 

“Yeah?”

“Is– is he really dead?”

Dan looks at the body and kicks a limp leg, avoiding looking at the gory black bag. Nothing. “Yep. As a doornail.” And he knows death intimately. 

She breathes a shaky, staticky sigh into the receiver. “Thank you, Dan.”  

He blinks, “Can you get fired for saying that?”

She laughs, “Honey, everyone not on break right now is listening to this. My boss just broke a bottle of tequila out from his desk.” 

He barks out his own laugh. “Oh?”

“You’re about to be very popular, Dan.”

“Well, I—” 

And seventeen minutes late to the party, the windows at the top of the warehouse shatter open. In cascades of broken glass and grappling cables, the Bats drop down to the floor. 

“Away from the body,” commands Batman as soon as his feet hit the ground. His little birdies, Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, and the newest Robin fall in line with him. Robin makes quick work of rounding up the unconscious goons and binding them. 

Dan obligingly puts the hand that isn’t holding the phone up in the air, but before moving away from the camera’s view, he says, “Just a reminder guys, my venmo is vladsucks03 and my cashapp is dannight07. Please remember that I might need a lawyer soon.”

“Okay, funny guy,” Nightwing says, entering into frame and pulling Dan away by the shoulder while Red Robin shuts down the live stream.

“It was self-defense and defense of another. A whole population, if you will,” Dan says. 

Red Hood snickers, “Only crime here was the kidnapping.” 

“Dan, are you okay?”

“Bats are here, Claire,” Dan tells her. He watches Batman lift the black bag off The Joker’s face, revealing the viscera and gray matter beneath. He’s not smiling anymore. Dan hasn’t seen that kind of gore in years. He’s the cause of it once more and he doesn’t regret that. It feels invigorating. It feels devastating. “I guess I’ll hang up now. If The Joker is mysteriously alive after this, it’s because Batman couldn’t handle not being the hero.” 

“Dan—” He hangs up as Batman’s shoulders go minutely tense at his words. The man stands fully, turning his head slightly to narrow his cowled eyes at Dan. 

“Problem, sir?” 

“You killed The Joker.” 

“I saved myself and his two idiots.” He shrugs. 

“You had him restrained.” 

He rests an offended hand against his chest. “I was frightened that he would escape, sir, just as he escapes from the very place you put him every eight to ten months.” The Bat doesn’t want to be judge, jury, and executioner. Fine. Whatever, he gets it. Dan hadn’t wanted to be that, neither as hero nor villain. He’d wanted to save, he wanted to be saved, and then he wanted everyone to feel like he did. But he’s not so prideful now to know that he wouldn’t have stopped then, not unless someone handled the job permanently. 

The Joker needed permanence. 

The Bat can play fucking judge all he wants. But he’d be just as villainous if he tried enforcing his own moral code on other people.

“You asked for donations,” Red Robin says dryly. “You were basically putting a hit out on him.”

“My art in life textbook is $300. How much do you think a lawyer is going to cost?”

“Hn.” 

“Stop giving the man a hard time for doing a public service, Batman.” Red Hood shoulder checked Nightwing away and held out a gloved hand for Dan to shake. He takes the other’s hand and firmly shakes it. The contact, while not to skin, gives Dan goosebumps and chills his lungs. 

Jay?

“Let’s hope my Habitudes professor agrees with you.”

“She will. Everyone with three brain cells to rub together will.” The man cuts a glare at Batman. 

Dan didn't say what pronouns his professor uses. 

The rumble in Red Hood’s voice is enticing. He looks at the other man, really looks, and notices his broad shoulders, how tall he is (though Dan towers over him even  disguised as a human), and his muscled arms. Arms that Dan’s pretty sure are normally hidden beneath a Gotham U hoodie, just like his own. 

He smirks as sirens sound in the distance. “Let’s hope the cops agree with you.”

“They will,” Hood says. It sounds like a promise for something entirely different. 

“Gag me,” Red Robin mutters.

Robin says, “For once I agree with you.”

Without looking away from Dan, Red Hood flips the two off, and yeah, maybe redemption can be more promising than he initially thought. 

xxXxx

A week later, Dan finally goes back to his regular schedule. His ghost parole is intact—he’d even been thanked by some Gothamite ghosts, and Danny begrudgingly told him that there were ghosts who said they’d riot if Dan was given any punishment. As for the mortal side of things, Vlad Masters had graciously sent his team of attorneys to Dan’s aid. While Dan still hates him, he has no issue about using a free team of lawyers to defend him. He’s guaranteed to walk.

Jazz had called him. It made his core unsettled and stony. She wasn’t disappointed, and he doesn’t know how that makes him feel. He doesn’t regret it—The Joker would never change. But what does that say about him and his progress? 

Jazz in general makes him uneasy now. She used to be his big sister, and now she’s younger than him, and he tried to kill her, and— she’s different from his Jazz, is all. But if she’d always known like she said, then his Jazz did, too, right? Could she still be his Jazz, a Jazz who got to grow up? Still be his sister? It would be stupid to hope so, right?

He feels bitter.

She said she’s considering Gotham University as her college of choice as she nears high school graduation. Apparently, their psych department is amazing. 

So maybe hope isn’t so bad. 

Dan sits down at his 10:00 am Habitudes class. Everyone already in the room stares at him. Before they can offer any congrats or thanks or swarm him, Jay sits down next to him. 

Dan looks at Jay’s mostly black hair and his tuft of white at his front bangs. He’s wearing his usual Gotham U hoodie, a hoodie that likely hides muscled arms. A chill builds in his lungs like it did when speaking with Red Hood, like it has every other time he’s talked with Jay Peters. 

…Hm. A hoodie that definitely hides muscled arms. 

“Hey,” says Jay with a grin. “Crazy week, I hear?”

“You’re a Gothamite. I’m sure you’re aware of exactly how crazy it’s been.” 

“You should tell me about it sometime.”

“Sure. After class? We can grab an early lunch. Make it a date, maybe.”

Jay smiles, cute and small. His eyes flash green—a baby Death-touched soul, still can’t control his spooky abilities, how adorable—and he says, “That sounds perfect.”

[samandcolbyownme]

Summary: anon request - "HEAR ME OUT... dealer!colby x reader👀? (colby's her weed dealer..?)"

Warnings: SMUT18+, dealer!Colby, strong language, mentions of weed, smoking, driving while under the influence (please don't ever do that), sex as payment, teasing, heavy flirting, hair pulling, oral (f rec), slight squirting, rough unprotected sex, biting, creampie, nasty filth - this is your second warning :)

Word Count: 5.3k | not really edited

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

You exhaled the smoke with a sigh, "We're almost out." You looked around the group and they all groan.

Sam takes the half smoked blunt from your hands and nudges you as he takes a drag, "Why don't you call up that dealer of yours, y/n."

Your eyes go wide, "Sam. Don't."

"Oh come on." He passes the blunt to Jake and looks back at you, "Why not?" You roll your eyes, "Because.. it's not like that."

"What it like then?" Jake asks leaning around Sam, smirking at you as the smoke leaves his lips, "You can't fall for your drug dealer. Nothing good ever comes out of that."

"Nothing is going to come out of it because I don't like him like that." You cross your arms, leaning back in your chair, "But I do like weed, and he's the only one who ever seems to have so.."

You pull your phone out, clicking on the name.

Colby Brock.

Hey, it's y/n.

You rest your phone in your lap, sighing as you look up, waiting for an answer, "Is one of you sober enough to drive?"

They all laugh and Sam looks at you, "I can drive you."

"No you can't." You laugh and watch as he stands up, "What are you doing, Golbach?"

"I'll put on a full sobriety test for you right now." He laughs and the group cheers him on. You roll your eyes, picking up your phone when it vibrates.

I know who you are. Whatcha lookin for?

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, zoning out as you focus on texting Colby back.

I think you know exactly what I'm looking for. I have some friends over tonight.

You see the text bubbles pop up instantly and you try not to show that this excites you.

You have friends over and didn't invite me? Ouch.

You laugh slightly, sighing as you type.

I didn't think you'd want to hang out with me.

You rest your phone down, looking up to see Sam balancing on one of the patio loungers, "Sam. Get down before you break your neck or something."

He laughs and jumps down, "Are we a go?"

"Not yet. He hasn't said if he's home or not." You check your phone, nothing, so you set it back down, kinda irritated with yourself.

"Drug dealers are always home, y/n." Jake laughs and you shrug, "Not mine. He has a life outside of his business."

"And how would you know that?" Jake raises his brows, smirking slightly and you change your answer, "I don't.. I'm just saying he might."

"Uh huh. Sure."

Your phone vibrates and you look down, nodding as you read the text.

I'm just pickin, y/n. Of course you can come over, just let me know when you're on your way.

"We're good." You look back down and type.

I'll be there soon.

"Alright. See you guys in a few." Sam grabs his keys and you roll your eyes, "Don't break anything while I'm gone."

They all laugh and wave you off as you walk out the gate with Sam, "Are you good to drive?" He looks back at you, "Y/n. If I didn't think I could, I wouldn't have offered."

"Alright." You sigh, giving in just because you wanted to see Colby. You get in, buckling up before punching in the address to Sam's car gps.

"You have that memorized?" He laughs and you nod, "I've been there enough to know." You laugh and he starts driving, glancing over at you once you reach the first red light, "Are you guys hooking up?"

You snort, "Oh my god, Sam. No. He's my weed dealer."

"Yeah, I'm aware of that. But you seem very excited to go see him." Sam starts driving and you shake your head, "I'm not excited to see him, I'm excited to get more weed."

That's a lie. A complete lie. You liked being around Colby. He seemed to like you, and although you weren't sure if it was so you'd keep coming back to buy from him or what, you liked it.

And it works because you go back to him.

And only him.

"I just don't need you getting caught up in his more than weed bullshit." Sam pulls up from your thoughts and you sigh, "From what I know.." you look at him, "Which isn't much.. he only sells weed. Maybe coke? I don't know. I don't ask."

"He has good weed, I'll give him that." Sam chuckles and you nod, "He really does." You giggle and point, "Pull up behind that car."

"Is that his car?" Sam nods towards the blacked out Mercedes and you nod, "I don't know, this is a richy neighborhood so, not sure."

It was definitely his car. You've seen him get out of it one time when you got here too early.

"It's nice, whoever it belongs to." Sam looks over at you, "Text me if you need anything." You smile, "I'll be fine, Sam." You open the door, "I'll be right back."

You get out, making your way through the small alley between the houses and walk up to the back door. It always shocks you that Colby lives in a regular looking house. It's a nice, very rich looking house, but you always pinned him with having a penthouse suite with smoke filling all the rooms and parties every weekend.

But to you, that was just the drug dealer stereotype.

Colby was.. different.

You knock and wait a few seconds before the door opens. You look up, smiling at Colby through the screen door, "Hey."

He pushes the door open and nods for you to come in, "What's up?" He watches you walk by him, checking behind you to make sure no one else is with.

"Not much, really." You stop, turning towards him. He shuts the door, locking it before turning towards you, "Nothing at all?" He chuckles and you shake your head, "Same old, you know."

You laugh slightly and he nods, "I gotta admit, I was kinda shocked to see you texted me with your name."

"I thought you didn't save the numbers of your customers so.." you shrug and he smirks, "not the ones I don't like seeing."

Your heart skips a beat and you smile, "Well thanks." You try to play it cool, you don't want to seem too excited.

"How much are we looking at getting, today Miss y/n?" Colby walks in to his living room, you following behind him, "Um.. I have like six people at my house right now so enough to get me through tonight yet."

"Oh so you can text me and come back tomorrow for more?" He winks and looks down at his stash.

Maybe it was the pot you smoked before, but you felt a weird wave of confidence wash over you, "You're catching onto my tactic, Colbs. Gonna have to switch it up soon."

He looks up at you, a huge smile resting on his face, "I knew it."

"Knew what?" You ask walking over and sitting down in the chair. He shrugs, "You tell me." You lean back, crossing your leg over the other, "Tell you what?"

He leans back as he ties the bag closed, "That I'm your favorite dealer and you can't help but stay away from me."

"You're my only dealer and well.." you smirk as you shrug and tilt your head, "You're not, fully, wrong."

"What am I wrong about then?" He tosses the bag on the table and leans back, "Why don't you enlighten me?"

You remembered that Sam is in the car waiting, "maybe.." you stand up, pulling money from your pocket, "When I see you next, yeah?" You toss the money on the table and reach down to grab the baggie but Colby snatches it away before you can get it in your grasp.

You tilt your head up slightly, looking at him through your lashes, "Is that not enough?"

"Oh no, it's plenty." He leans back, legs spread as his hands rests on his thighs, "you always have to leave so soon, don't you?"

You tilt your head, standing up slowly, "I have a friend waiting for me in the car."

"Oh do ya?" He tisks his tongue, "What a shame."

"Why do you say that?" You lick your lips, crossing your arms as you watch him look up at you. He shrugs, rolling the bag in his fingers, "maybe.. I'll tell you when I see you next, yeah?"

You smirk as he uses your words against you, "Tomorrow?"

He raises his eyebrows, "Yeah. Yeah." He hands you the bag and you gently take it from his open hand, "I'll text you tomorrow. If I'm free, you know." He chuckles and you roll your eyes, "Uh huh."

You smirk as you shove the bag into your jacket pocket, "I'll be free, so.." you purse your lips, "I have to get back to my friends."

"Oh yeah, the party I wasn't invited to." He smirks as he stands up and you point to the door, "Wanna follow us back over?"

He shakes his head, "Nah, I'm not really into group things." He chuckles and you scoff, a laugh quickly following behind, "oh, god. Colby. it's not.. a group thing if that's what you mean."

He shrugs, "You never know." His eyes scan over your face and he bites his lip, letting it pull slowly between his teeth, "Don't wanna keep your friend waiting any longer, right?"

As much as you wanted to say fuck it, and let Sam sit, you had enough respect for him to not do that, "Yeah.. I guess you're right."

You nod to Colby, "Thank you. Again."

He smiles, "I'm always here." He winks and you turn to walk out the door, moving around the banister to walk down the ally.

You speed up your walk to the car and open the door, plopping in with a smile.

"Take it that it went good?" Sam asks with a laugh and you look at him, "Yeah. It always does." You try to play it down, but you can't help but to think about the flirting that just went down.

Colby has an effect on you and you like it.

A lot.

"So what.. you guys get a quickie in or wh-"

"Sam!" You scoff, "Oh my god." You try to fight off your smile, "I wish. But no."

"Gross. That's - no. I didn't need to hear that." Sam pretends to gag as he starts driving, "But on a serious note.." he glances over at you and you know a lecture is in the works.

"What's the serious note, Sam?" You shift slightly and look over at him as you rest your elbow on the door, "If you're going to tell me that Jake was right, and that nothing good ever comes from seeing your dealer.. I know.. and that's why I haven't jumped his bones yet."

He raises his brows, looking over at you quickly before looking back to the road, "Yeah.. I mean.. yeah.." he laughs slightly, "That's what I was going to say."

You laugh, "Colby flirts with me.. yes. But I think that he does that with all of his other female customers. You know, so they keep coming back to him." You shrug, "he's very nice looking, I'll be honest, and yes. I would like to, you know.."

Sam cringes and shakes his head slightly, "uh huh."

"But if I did that, and it blew up, I'd have to find another dealer or I'd quit smoking all together."

Sam looks at you shocked, "You'd.. quit smoking over a guy?" He snorts, "Really?"

You sigh, "Okay. No. Probably not. That's a bit drastic." You laugh, "Kind of. I don't know. I'd just.. i don't know, you have a dealer so you'd be the one we go to."

"Colby has good shit. So in my own.. selfish needs.. please don't blow this." Sam smirks, "Plus.. how do you know he's worth all the hype you tell yourself?"

You shrug, "hard to explain. Maybe you can come in with me next time and see for yourself."

"I'm fine in the car." He says quickly, "I don't need to be doused in all the sexual tension you say there is."

"Good choice." You laugh and watch out the window as he drives you both back to your house.

You knew it was there. As soon as your eyes meet his you get this feeling in the pit of your stomach but the advice, if that's what you want to call it, that Sam and Jake tell you steer you away because you were kind of afraid of rejection.

Especially from Colby.

He's hot. Mysterious, and kinda dangerous.

But that turned you on. Made you want him even more. Even if it was just for one night.

You needed to have him. There was this.. hunger, inside of you that wanted him and only him. No matter the cost because you knew in your heart he wanted you, too.

And you were determined to get him. No matter what anyone said to try and steer you away.

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

The sun shining through your open blinds makes you groan as you roll away to try and avoid it. You took a deep breath, yawning as you sit up.

You take a minute, thinking about the smoke session from last night. Laughing to yourself as you remember all the funny stuff that was said and done.

You bite down on your lip as you remember going to get more weed from Colby. How he flirted with you effortlessly, and how you flirted with him.

You grab your phone, checking to see if he messaged you.

And he did.

Did you go through all of it yet?

That was sent at four thirty two this morning. Right after you decided to call it a night and head to bed.

You mentally curse yourself, mad at yourself because you could have been talking to him. But that's alright, it gives you a chance to take a sober minute and actually think about how you wanted to play this game.

You bite down on your lip as your thumbs pluck the keyboard.

Not all of it, but it definitely won't be enough to last me.

You set your phone down on the bed as you stand up, walking over to grab a change of clothes. You grab your phone before heading to the shower.

As you turn the shower on, you hear your phone buzz, but you don't jump. You get in the shower, closing the door and try not to overthink everything.

Colby does want you, but he won't tell you that. You don't know it, but he has rules. He doesn't hook up with customers, but he has a hard time with you.

As you get out, you wrap a towel around your body and swipe the steam from the mirror away with your hand. You stare at yourself, thinking about the only thing that's really been on your mind lately.

You tap your phone, leaning forward so it'll unlock and your eyes scan over Colby's texts.

You know where to find me. I'll be around today, if you wanted to bang.

I mean hang. Or whatever. lol

Your stomach flips. Or whatever. You bite your thumb nail, sighing to calm your excitement.

I just got out of the shower. I can get dressed and come over?

You walk back over to your room, tossing the original pick of clothes to the floor as you look for something a little more - intriguing.

Your phone buzzes on your dresser and you pick it up. Smirking as you read his response.

Let me know when you're on your way. I'll leave the door unlocked for you.

You smile, texting back a simple, sounds good, before you go back to scouring your closet.

You opt for a simple, yet like you wanted, intriguing look. A pair of black ripped skinny jeans. A cropped white tank top along with cropped dark jean jacket, and black ankle boots.

You finished getting ready and picked up your phone, hands kinda shaking nervously as you type your, I'm ready. Leaving soon, message to Colby.

You grab your bag, making sure you have everything before walking to your car. You take a deep breath, looking at your phone as you read over Colby's text.

Great. See you soon, y/n.

Your heart skips a beat as you put the car in reverse, backing out of your driveway.

You were sober.

Your thoughts about Colby were still clear, and most definitely there.

As you drive over, your fingers tap the steering wheel, anxiously trying to keep the scenarios out of your mind because you don't want to get your hopes up completely.

You pull up behind his car, parking and shutting the engine off. You grab your phone, I'm here. I'll come to the back.

You get out, pulling your bag onto your shoulder and shutting your door. You force yourself to walk, calmly to the back because your excitement was racing sky high.

You honestly didn't know what to expect.

As you walk up the steps, the door opens and Colby pushes the screen door open, "Hello again." You look up, flashing him a smile as you walk by him, "Hey."

He shuts the doors, walking by you to lead you into the living room, "Sleep good?"

You laugh slightly, setting your bag down with a nod, "Oh yeah. I couldn't get them to leave, I was falling asleep before even making it up to my bed."

Colby chuckles, leaning back against the couch, "I would have just went to bed."

"I didn't want to leave them unsupervised." You laugh and sit down, crossing your leg over the other, "I didn't have anything specific planned today, so sleeping in was alright."

"Seemed to work out pretty good." Colby smiles and points, "You wanna.." he trails off watching as you look from him to the tray on the table. You nod, "Please."

You shift through your bag, "fuck." You plop your hand on your bag, looking up at him, "I don't have my wallet."

He furrows his brows, "You.. want to pay me for the joint I offered you?"

You laugh slightly, "No - ah, I mean I was going to see if I could get more but I do-"

He cuts you off, "I'm sure we can come up with a payment arrangement. No worries, sweetheart."

You slowly pull your bag off your lap, plopping it back in the floor, "I'm sure we can."

He smirks as he twists the end of the joint, "Just a heads up, I have like two people coming today, not sure when, though."

You nod, "That's fine."

He lights up the joint, taking a drag. He holds the smoke in as he looks at you. He exhales, "Come on. I don't bite." He smirks as he holds the joint out infront of him.

You smirk, getting up to move next to him and he places the joint in between your lips, "Unless you want me to."

You take a drag, eyes staying locked on his. You pull it from your lips, smiling as you inhale deep. You blow the smoke out, "Don't threaten me with a good time."

"Oh, so you like being bitten?" His brow twitches and you shrug, "Depends on the person, I guess."

He nods, taking the joint from your fingers, "I see." He leans back next to you, picking up his phone from the arm rest of the couch, "Taylor will be here in five."

Your eyes scan over his screen and you can definitely tell it's a girl because on her end, the texts are flirty and cute.

But you can't help but smirk when you see his one to three word responses.

Colby looks at you, smirking, "You know.. I broke my rules for you."

Your eyes snap up to his, "Rules?"

He nods, "Rules. Yes."

You turn towards him, the weed relaxing you enough to egg him on, "Do tell, Mr. Brock."

He chuckles, taking a drag of the joint before handing it to you, "I don't invite people over." He watches you take a drag and his teeth hold his bottom lip, "Especially girls."

"Then why am I here?" You lean forward, taking the joint from his fingers and lean back, slipping the end between your lips and dragging.

Colby stares at you for a few seconds before smirking, "Because I think.." he leans in, eyes on yours, "..you like doing bad things.. with bad boys."

Before you exhale, he slides his hand to the back of your neck, pulling you in just enough for your lips to brush his.

He inhales the smoke as you exhale.

You watch him leans back, smirking as he blows the smoke out, "am I right?"

You shrug, "I wouldn't say.. boys." You smirk, "There's only one, in particular.. and I just so happen to be doing something bad with him.. right now."

"I keep it short with the female customer side. I don't want anyone thinking anything, taking it the wrong way, ya know?" He ashes the joint and sets it down, "But you.."

"My friends.. would tease me about having a crush on you.. but I knew I was right." You cross your arms and shake your head slightly, "I was right."

"Right about what?" He smirks, resting his ankle on his knee, "I'm all ears."

You move closer to him, "There was no shortness." You lick your lips, looking up at him, "There was flirting."

"There sure was." Colby nods with a smirk, "I tried not to. The first couple of times you started coming to me. I did try. But I just couldn't help it."

As you go to lean in, a knock on the door cuts the interaction short.

"Fucking hell." Colby curses, "Why now?"

"It's fine. My only plans today are being here." You smirk and lean back as he stands up. He glances down at you, "Feel free to roll another one if you want."

You nod, smiling as you reach forward to do just as he says. You glance up, watching as the blonde walks through the door, "Hi Colby. Sorry I'm late. The traffic was awful." She smiles and he nods, "How much are you here for?"

You smirk, looking down as he gets right to the point.

"My usual." She giggles, "Colby you should know this by now."

He walks in, "An eighth? A quarter? Your order changes every time, Taylor.." He walks around, sitting down next to you as she stands on the other side of the coffee table, mumbling an almost audible, "Eighth."

You glance up at her, fighting a smirk as you notice her whole demeanor changed since she seen you, "Hey." You tilt your head, flashing her a smile as you twist the end of the cone.

She rolls her eyes, "Yeah, hi." She looks at Colby, "I was wondering if I could do half the payment now then the oth-"

Colby cuts her off with a hard, "No." He chuckles, shaking his head as he bags up the weed, "I don't do that half payment now, other half later bullshit. You know that."

"Are you sure because I can definitely give it to you Friday." She twirls her hair, trying to gain his attention back onto her.

He looks up at her, "It's full payment now or nothing, Taylor." He shrugs, "I don't know who told you I do payment plans, but you need to tell them that they're sadly mistaken."

You lean back, covering your smirk by holding the joint between your lips and lighting it.

"Yeah, I'll definitely tell them." she pulls money out of her back pocket. Colby reaches out for it, but she misses his hand, purposely, and drops it on the table, "That enough?"

He picks it up, counting it, "Sure is. Enjoy." He goes to hand her the bag, but misses her hand, on purpose of course.

She scoffs, "Is this really how you're going to treat me?"

"You get what you give, Taylor. Maybe next time come in here with some respect." Colby stares up at her until she sighs, "Fine."

She bends down, grabbing the bag and walking away. Colby reaches over, plucking the joint from your hand as he yells a sarcastic, "Have a great day."

You giggle, "That was so mean."

He chuckles, "She wasn't going to disrespect me. I won't allow it."

"Yeah, it took all I had to tell her to stop being a bitch." You watch as he takes a drag and exhales, "I would have loved to see it."

"Maybe next time." You wink as you smile, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as you watch him take another drag.

"So.." he passes you the joint after ashing it, "Where were we?"

You take a drag, holding it in as you tilt your head. You exhale, "I think..." you move closer, "I was about to kiss you."

"I like where this is going." He brushes hair from your face, moving it behind your shoulder, "I think we have some time before the last person shows up.. so.."

You set the joint in the ash tray and move to straddle him. His hands slip into the back pockets of your jeans and give your ass a squeeze. Your eyes scan over his face, locking eyes with his slightly red and blue ones before you dip your head down and lock lips with his.

He groans against you, pulling you closer and you feel the hard bulge of his jeans grind against you.

Your hands move to his hair, tugging slightly as his lips move down your neck. You let out a gasp as you feel him bite down gently.

Your hips move slowly as you feel him mark your neck, "Colby." You whimper quietly, "P-please."

"How bad do you want me, baby?" He leans back, looking up at you and you smirk, "About as bad as you want me."

He smiles, nodding, "You know that's a lot, right?"

You nod, "That's how much I want you."

He stands up, your legs wrapping around his waist, arms around his neck. He walks you back the hall and into his room. He kicks the door shut before walking you over and your back meets the bed.

You sit up slightly, watching as he slips his black t-shirt off, revealing his very fit figure, "Fuck."

He smirks, "Let's see you do that too."

You smirk and sit up, kicking off your boots as you slip off your jacket and toss it, your tank following right behind.

"Shit." Colby whispers as he moves to lay his body over yours. He kisses your lips, moving down your neck and chest. He stops at your boob, taking your nipple in his mouth.

You moan, back arching as he sucks and flicks it with his tongue. Your hand lays on his head, curling his hair around your fingers, "Fuck, yes."

You look down at him and he looks up at you, popping off as he kisses down your torso. Your body jolts as his kisses slightly tickle, but your eyes watch as his hands undo your jeans.

You press your hands into the bed as you lift your hips to allow him to slip off both your jeans and panties in one swoop fell swoop.

He pushes your thighs apart, not giving you a second to process as he drops to his knees and pulls you to the edge of the bed.

He licks his lips before leaning in, attaching them to your clit. You gasp, arching your back as your brows furrow with the scrunch of your face, "S-shit. Yes."

He moans against you, moving his head down to slip his tongue into you. His hands grip your hips, pinning them down as he focuses on the taste of you.

He leans back, eyes locking on yours as your chest rises and falls quickly, "You taste better than I ever thought of."

You smile, biting your lip as you watch him lean back in. Two of his fingers drag up your thigh before they're brought to your center, rubbing gently before slipping inside.

You moan, clenching around him as he thrusts his fingers in and out slowly. His lips trail up your inner thigh, watching as you twist and turn as your orgasm builds up.

“You gonna cum for me?” His voice is low and you nod, eyes still squeezed shut.

“Cum for me, baby. Come on.” His words bring you closer, “You look so pretty when you’re like this. On the verge of snapping.”

You let out a moan as you feel your body tense up and jolt. Liquid leaks out, indicating that he got you to squirt a tad bit, “Yeah, baby. That’s it.” Colby groans as his fingers curl, “Can you do it again for me?”

His lips attach to your clit and you let out a louder moan, whimpering as he gets you to squirt for him again.

“So fuckin’ hot.” He withdrawals his fingers, moving to stand up as he looks over you, “you’re worth breaking my rules for.”

You smile weakly at his words, opening your eyes to lock them on his. You reach up, whimpering as you motion for him to come to you.

He hovers his body over yours, brushing hair from your face. You can see his chin glisten in what little light that’s illuminating the room.

His lips crash onto yours and you moan at the taste of yourself on his tongue.

His cock, that’s pressing teasingly against your pussy, starts to enter and you gasp as he continues to slide fully in.

“Colby.” Your voice is barely there, “Fuck.”

“You are incredible.” He presses a kiss to your forehead before leaning up. His hand lays on your throat, fingers hooking over your bottom row of teeth, “You look incredible like this.”

Your tongue runs over his fingers and he moves his hand so you can wrap your lips around them. Sucking as he slowly pulls out and thrusts back in.

“Rough, Colby.”

And with that, it wasn’t long until you’re flipped over, bent over with your ass in the air and chest pressed against the bed.

His hands tightly gripping your hips as you’re desperately clinging onto the blanket, knuckles white from holding so tight.

His thrusts are punishing. Hard, and fast.

“S-so close.” You moan out loudly, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You push your hips back the best you can and Colby leans down, sliding his hand into your hair to lift your head.

His nose rubs the side of your face, “How close?”

“There.. almost there.” Your brain was foggy. You felt like you couldn’t comprehend words.

Colby had you a mess.

An absolute mess.

His hand moves from your hair, sliding around your throat. His thumb gently caresses your face before moving his hand further down to squeeze.

You squeak at the sudden loss of air, trying to moan but nothing is coming out.

Your vision goes black as you feel yourself squeeze his cock and release it as you cum.

He fucks you through your high, moaning lowly in your ear about how much of a good girl you’re being for him.

“Such a good fucking girl.” His lips drag back your cheek and his teeth sink into the lobe of your ear, “Taking me so fucking well.”

His hand releases your throat and you gasp, breathing heavy as you cheek and chest rest against the bed. You reach behind you, looking for his hand.

He grabs your wrist, pinning it down against your lower back, groaning as his thrusts grow sloppy, “Fuck.. where do you want me, y/n?”

In a breath, “Anywhere.”

“Say no more.” He smirks and bites his lip, tilting his head back as he gives you a few more thrusts before they turn sloppy.

He pushes his cock fully into you, moaning as he feels himself spill deep inside of you. He lets go of your hand, gently massaging your hips as he pulls out.

Your body falls onto the bed, collapsing from the exhaustion.

Colby lays next to you, brushes hair from your face with a smile, “You alright?”

You nod weakly, “I’m very alright.” You smile, sliding a hand over to lay on his chest, “Do you still want me to pay for my weed?”

He chuckles and shakes his head, “No.” he brings your hand to his lips, kissing gently, “this payment has been accepted.”

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

YALL I love this. As always, let me know how you liked it!

Likes and reblogs all very appreciated!

Love you all! 🖤

[valyrfia]

So. Lando has to outscore Max by 7.75 points on each remaining race weekend in order to take the championship, but Charles only needs to outscore Lando by 3 points on each remaining race weekend in order to clinch P2, Oscar only needs to outscore Charles by 2.5 points in every race weekend to take P3. This championship is going to go down to the wire, every point will count, and it unfortunately looks like we are careening straight towards an Abu Dhabi all or nothing showdown.

[the-corvus-bandit]

House md is so bonkers in the fact that the main character got shot and it's not even the top ten weirdest/most horrifying things to happen in the show

[kintsugikalliope]

500 gigawatts of the power of God.

(materials: alcohol inks, posca markers, black construction paper)

[emdotcom]

Yeah, so while I was on my "I'm going to read into Vanny/Vanessa as much as possible" journey, I noticed an odd quirk in her animations in how she moves. At first, I thought it reminded me of a ballerina, 'cause she's kinda tip-toeing, & she has this way of keeping her head & chest in one place as she moves, but I looked again & realized --

That's not ballet! She's doing a tight-rope act. Like, look at this one:

This is like standing up on the wooden boards before you do the actual tight-rope walking, & the ring leader is hyping you up as you do some fun movement for the crowds. &, then, these:

These are all instances where she walks with one foot directly in front of the other. In that third, she's doing the "woaaah" wiggly-ass balance movements & everything, as if she's swaying up at the top of the tent, even though she's down on solid ground.

Idk, I feel like the way her feet are placed isn't accurate (pretty sure they should be pointed left & right, not both forwards...) doesn't make this 100% correct, but I like it. It also connects back with her first SB teaser, wherein she's up in the rafters.

[tastycitrus]

there's an alternate timeline where the new 52 reboot kept all three batgirls but retconned all the robins except for dick, who went back to being robin with nightwing banned from being mentioned at all

[reidsdimples]

When Everything Changed | Part 5- Finale

18+ ❤️‍🔥 MDNI ‼️

Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

Enemies to lovers

Part 4 | Master list

The truth comes out

“When are we going to admit that this isn’t hate?” He murmurs and kisses your head.

You didn’t want to answer him because you knew you never hated him. You may be annoyed by him at times but the truth was, a sick thrill shot through you when you bickered with him. It always had.

“It’s easier to hate you,” you whisper, still lying against him on the floor.

You’re fucked out, you can’t move after what he did to you.

“Why?” His voice is so low you’d miss it if you weren’t on him. You shake your head.

“Getting close to someone in this field is dangerous. Look at us,” you wriggle free and turn to face him. “We were both shot.”

“The average FBI agent is shot once in their entire career, most not at all. The odds of that happening to one of us again are slim,” he reasons. You drop your shoulders.

“Spence,” you sigh.

“I know you don’t hate me. You want to. But you can’t,” he stands and moves over to the couch where he wraps himself in a blanket.

You sigh and get your footing under you, your legs still wobbly and pull on your underwear.

“I thought that was just about getting it out of our systems,” you stand in front of him which forced him to look up at you. He winces and his throat injury though and stops. You sit on the coffee table in front of him.

“Did it work? Am I out of your system?” He stares through you.

The truth was, you didn’t think you’d ever get enough of him after that. You had never been with someone who could work your body so well. You simply shake your head ‘no’.

His eyes level with yours.

“I’m not asking for a relationship. I’m asking you to stop pretending that this-“ he grabs your arm and yanks you towards him until his face is in front of yours. “Isn’t fun. That you haven’t gone home after a heated argument with me and finger fucked yourself.”

“How did you-“

“You’re not as good as you think at managing your micro expressions,” he gives you a sky grin.

He had been alot better at that part than you.

“You’re not as inconspicuous as you might think,” you jerk your arm away from his grip.

“Yeah?” He tilts his head, challenging you.

“"I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look or the words, which laid the foundation, It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun."” You quote from his journal, from Jane Austen.

His mouth falls open, he was utterly shocked.

“You read my journal that night,” he stands, angry.

“I just saw the blurb you fell asleep writing,” you respond and cross your arms.

“Writing a quote from a book isn’t proof of anything,” he snaps. “I have an eidetic memory, I do that sometimes.”

“Maybe, but look how pissed you are,” you scoff.

You’re being an asshole and you know it. His cheeks turn red and he moves from the small space where you had been facing him.

“Pissed you made an assumption about my feelings for you, yeah,” he raises his voice. It’s still scratchy.

“What feelings Spencer?” You shout and march over to him. “Why are you so angry if there are no feelings?” Now you’re grabbing his arm and turning him towards you.

You ignore your phone ringing, a text follows it.

He glares at you, his eyes travel over your body where you’re only wearing a tank top and panties. You didn’t back down though, you wanted him to admit what his pride wouldn’t let him.

Both of you were acting like children in the face of your feelings. You were aware of it. He had to be too.

“Let go of me,” he demands.

“No,” you dig your nails into his bicep. “Tell me the truth.”

“The truth?” He huffs a laugh and tries to take his arm back from your grip. You double down and place a hand on his chest, pinning him against a bookshelf. “The truth is, if you don’t let me go, I am going to fuck you until you can’t walk,” he whispers. His words travel through you, straight to your still sore pussy. Your heart pounds in your throat and in your head at his threat.

His phone rings and you drop your hands to let him get it.

“Morgan,” he pauses. “Yeah, good. Okay sounds good.” He hangs up and turns to you. “They got him, everyone’s good. We can start our reports after we sleep.

You glance at the clock, 4am. Damn. Sleep sounds amazing.

“Okay,” is all you say. You’re glad the team is safe but your mind is whirling from Spencer’s words, his actions.

“Why don’t you take my bed. I’ll sleep on the couch,” he sighs.

“No you’ve been in the hospital for weeks. Go sleep in your bed,” you demand, pointing to his room.

“It doesn’t matter what I say, you always have to argue or disagree,” he shakes his head.

“I’m trying to be considerate. God you’re impossible,” you groan.

He appears behind you, his body pressing against yours. You wonder if he can sense your arousal after his threat, after going back and forth with him.

“Go get in my bed,” his words are lethal. They leave no room for arguing.

You step forward out of his reach and hurry into his room. Fine, you’d sleep in his bed. You were trying to be nice, so much for that. You slam his door closed behind you.

You pull back the comforter, his bed perfectly made and slide in between the black silk sheets.

You think you hear him approaching the door after using his en suite bathroom, or maybe you hope you do. But he never enters. You watch the ceiling fan spin slowly in the dark. You had never been so sexually satisfied and the frustrated in such close succession.

You groan and put a pillow over your head. It doesn’t help, it smells like him. Annoying, sexy, frustrating him.

You toss and turn in the dark for what has to be an hour before you give up and stare back at the ceiling. Of course you left your phone in the damn living room.

This was torture, knowing he was out there, being surrounded by his scent in his bed. Maybe you could just make yourself cum once and you’ll be able to sleep. That would be plenty right? Especially after the amount of times he made you orgasm already. You bet you’d sleep blissfully. You kick the covers off and spread your legs wide, the cold air from the fan blowing over your pussy.

You slide your hand over your stomach and down into your panties. You’re surprised to find your clit so swollen with need, sensitive to the touch from overuse but begging for more. Begging for him. God you wanted him again.

Your eyes roll back as you begin to circle your clit, pressing hard and grinding your hips against yourself. You turn your head and moan into the pillow as you remember him between your legs.

“Finally that mouth is good for something,” you remember saying. Fuck it was so hot the way he looked up at you from between your legs.

“Dirty girl,” comes Spencer’s gravely voice from the doorway of his bedroom. You hadn’t heard the door open.

You startle and throw the blankets back over yourself. You were well and truly caught.

You see him saunter towards you in the dark and the bed dips as he crawls over you.

You meet his eyes, his own full of hunger.

“Show me how wet you are,” he whispers in your ear. You moan and bring your fingers up, shoving them in his mouth. He sucks gently, sliding his tongue between your fingers. You imagine the way that motion felt in your pussy.

He pulls the blanket off of you and kneels between your legs. He forces your knees flat to the bed so you’re spread wide for him. You wonder how many women he’s had in this position in this very spot. It’s fucking hot to imagine, Spencer, a womanizer. It was the only explanation for his filthy mouth and skills.

He pushes your panties to the side and pumps his long middle finger into you with ease.

“Let’s make a deal,” he muses and tilts his head as he slowly withdrawals his finger to the tip.

“Hmm,” you can’t talk. He presses it back in torturously slow.

“You’re going to tell me how you really feel about me. Then and only then will I expose my true feelings to you,” he hums as he slides his finger in and out of you. “I know you’re stubborn so I’m more than willing to fuck it out of you if I must.”

He removes his finger completely.

“Because the truth is, I want you to know how I feel,” he murmurs and bends down to kiss your pussy. Your underwear an all too cruel barrier.

Your arch up towards his mouth and he nips you with his teeth. You moan loudly.

He tears you free of your underwear and settles between your legs, looking up at you with pleading eyes.

“Deal Spencer, please,” you beg and push your throbbing pussy towards his mouth. You needed him so bad, needed some kind of friction.

He pushes his tongue into your entrance and drags it all the way up through your folds, soaking his tongue. He lets out a sinful groan, pleased.

His two middle fingers find your entrance and curl upward, causing you to squirm at the blinding pleasure. He pins you down with his other arm across your hips and pumps into you while he sucks and licks at your clit.

“Spencer please it’s too much,” you cry out. You can’t believe how good it feels when he speeds up his tongue and applies more pressure inside of you.

“Tell me or I’ll stop,” he pauses. Leaving you to pant for a moment.

“I-“ you whimper.

He resumes his expert movements, winding you so tight it’s painful. You need to cum, you can’t take much more.

“You’re not listening,” he hums and withdrawals his fingers and mouth just as you’re approaching a euphoric orgasm.

“When we almost lost you, I realized I felt more,” you pant, your eyes blowing wide as you look down at him. His pink lips glisten with your arousal and he grins before sliding those wicked fingers back into you.

“Good girl,” he speaks against you and gives you want you want.

He pulls your clit into his mouth while his fingers pump you violently, curling to reach that spot deep inside of you. He presses you harder into the mattress, applying mind numbing pressure to your uterus. You’d never felt anything like it, how was he… how did he…

“Spencer!” An uncharacteristic scream erupts from your throat as the most intense orgasm you’ve ever experienced crashes through you.

You’re shaking around his fingers as he plants kisses against your pussy and slowly removes them. He plunges them into his mouth and licks them clean until you’re staring at him in awe. He was so fucking beautiful.

“That was easier than I thought it would be,” he crawls on top of you. His hair falls forward as he stares into your eyes. You whimper in defeat.

“I’m scared I’m falling for you. It makes me angry,” you whisper.

To your surprise he leans down and kisses you, his lips impossibly soft and warm.

“I’ve already fallen for you. I’ll catch you. I won’t let you get hurt,” he speaks softly and kisses you again. His admission feels like the most gentle caress and the greatest victory.

His hands push under your body and he brings your arms above your head. He holds you there, kissing you desperately. Your tongue pushes back against his until you’re both breathless and he’s grinding his erection against you.

Neither of you were done with each other despite the admission. You could spend the next 24 hours with him between your legs.

This brilliant, irritating, and irresistible man had somehow broken his way into your heart. You didn’t know it until he was fighting for his life in a hospital bed.

A strange sort of determination settles over you. You wouldn’t chance losing him again without loving him first.

“You’re mine,” it’s not a question, it’s more like he’s declaring it.

“Yours,” you nod and kiss him hungrily again.

[danwhobrowses]

You know, as much as I would've loved a massive catharsis-led triumph over Athion Zathuda in battle, possibly left at the mercy of the vibrant flames of Fearne's Titan form reiterating herself with aplomb as Fearne Calloway, I actually kinda love how the narrative chose to defeat him. In many ways it is just hilarious, but also ironically in-character. Man talked all about wanting to prove himself, had a grandiose title of 'Sorrowlord' and was looking to be both a physical and mental adversary after threatening to torment Fearne into becoming Exaltant by targeting her loved ones. But then when he is pit against Bells Hells he barely does a thing; he tries to talk his way into turning Fearne again, gets jumpscared by Ira, the 'farm girl' he mocked to Fearne commandeers his dragon, he loses a leg and is thrown off his dragon, and the Hells even opt to keep him alive for some reason in 107 before kinda accidentally offing him in 108.

He thought he was the shit, but enemies of true threat like Ludinus, Otohan and Liliana (a threat before she was turned) looked down on him, and thus his attempts to prove them wrong - while also falling into the same trap as Ashton's father in seeking out a personal destiny and being willing to see their child as a tool to do it - bore no fruit at all, he was practically an afterthought through and through, his dragon really being his entire threat level. In the end, he got killed running (well, hobbling) away, and while Gloamglut's keening was a little sad in a way that a pet cannot fathom the moral complexity of having to kill their owner he still had it coming, plus following his eternal torture in the Tiki Bar of Ligament Manor, the last sorrow he wrought was his own; he achieved nothing, everything he hints he did to get to his position was for naught, and for all the fear and danger he tried to make himself possess he truly had no power over anyone, especially not Fearne - who can only pity him and, as further proof of being better than he ever was, hope that he takes the time to reflect on his sorrows.

[zytes]

8.15.2024 — 6:47pm -> 8:17pm

[kkoct-ik]

PLEASE explain ur shin DID thoughts I wanna know so bad

boy am i glad you asked (LONG POST)

prefacing by saying the sou DID headcanon is very special to me to the point that i talk about it as if it is canon. i know it is not canon. i'm not arguing that this is what these moments mean, i'm arguing this is an interpretation that i really enjoy, and this interpretation of sou's character speaks to the DID experience Unnervingly well.

i use sou & shin interchangebly, they are parts of the same person, but generally i say sou for during the death game and shin for before.

so. first.

the important bit — sou's dissociation from shin tsukimi

during his first trial, shin tsukimi is given the winning percentages. there he learns that 'shin tsukimi' cannot survive the death game.

to escape shin tsukimi's weakness and inevitable death, shin abandons him, and instead takes on the name and certain characteristics of midori, to build a new self — sou hiyori. he disowns his identity as shin tsukimi to psychologically escape from his fate, so that he can psychologically survive in this moment and keep living.

a part of DID is the repression and disowning of the weak and hurting parts of you, and in turn outwardly becoming & functioning as someone or something else that can survive.

sou very literally dissociates from the weak parts of his identity and becomes & functions as someone else to survive.

and that's the absolute basis of the headcanon. turn back now if you want to. the rest is me slowly losing my sanity.

me slowly losing my sanity

so. listen. here's the thing. theres a lot more in sous behaviour that you could interpret as DID if you know where to look.

it's not quite as simple as "there are two of him: shin tsukimi (who was weak, easily manipulated, and incredibly scared) and sou hiyori (who is not that)". there are quite a few more moving parts to this guy, and also a lot of grey areas where his identity breaks down and develops over the course of the game.

the sou we first meet is timid, but not particularly vulnerable: polite, but observant. you get the vibe he is silently taking note of everything you do, because he is. during the first main game, he takes control of the discussion by claiming to be the Keymaster, both securing his survival, and giving himself a level of control over the discussions.

when the information he found on the laptop and his attempts to throw suspicion on Sara causes everyone to doubt him, he begins to panic. he brings up the moment Nao hit him - something that must have been triggering to him, considering what defines 'sou hiyori' is that he is not weak like shin tsukimi is.

i like to think in this moment a subconcious part of him realises that the present sou hiyori is not removed enough from shin tsukimi to be free of danger. despite his distance, he's weak enough to be attacked - he could have been killed, and now he's at the mercy of the masses.

his protective parts and mechanisms need to kick in at 200%. so they do.

under the pressure sou snaps and goes into a a very aggressive protector part. sou projects outwards his vulnerability complex, calling everybody else 'weaklings' who are going to die (reinforcing his dissociation from shin tsukimi). he suddenly openly rejects the value of trust and human cooperation, in an attempt to make himself seem untouchable and entirely in control.

section: sou's protector part

i love this guy so i marked out a section just to break down his protective mechanisms. this is a direct continuation from the paragraph i just ended.

after his first instance in the first main game, sou's protector part (easily spotted by his fucking mastermind persona) appears multiple times to cover up moments of vulnerability. it makes him out to be a liar, but it also makes him seem incredibly calculating and dangerous, which works just fine for him.

during the token trade game, sou 'fakes' amnesia to avoid being singled out for his actions during the first main game. he reverts back to his polite & timid demeanour for a portion of the chapter, and also sleeps for a large portion of it (due to his sickness). but to allow himself this leeway (either to play up or let slip his weakness) he employs protective mechanisms: he enthusiastically tells Sara that his memory loss was a lie, and that he's been playing them all for fools. he intentionally gives her the impression that every moment of weakness he has let slip or otherwise is part of an elaborate plot.

whether this is purely for the sake of managing how the person he fears most percieves him, or because in this part he is genuinely so disconnected from his vulnerable parts and weakness that he refuses to acknowledge it was real, is up to interpretation to me. but i do love how many layers of lies and contradiction he symbolises.

(i choose to believe his amnesia was a genuine moment of vulnerability, because the scene makes me So Happy if i read it as a vulnerable part slipping through the cracks, who's entirely disconnected from the stressful events of the main game and is genuinely terrified. i like to think his later claim it was a lie was because he could not risk Sara genuinely witnessing his repressed weakness that he swore he disowned at the door. but i digress)

he has a similar 'moment of weakness' during the second main game, where he makes it more explicit that he is not necessarily him telling the truth when he says his earlier weakness was a lie. he relies on other's confusion and the fact people think he is one step ahead of them to protect himself.

he continues to employ his mastermind persona even after the shin tsukimi reveal - although its effect is somewhat lost now that everybody knows that he has vulnerable parts (and people he loves) to protect, and that his persona exists for their sake, not because it's his true personality.

mfw when the ego protection mechanism crumbles because i was vulnerable once and now my protector part hates me.

section: shadow sou

i was going to immediately follow onto shinai and what we can learn from him, but i want to clarify shadow sou first.

the long and short of it is i think he's the closest thing we have to a midori introject. while you could argue sou hiyori has introjected traits (which he most certainly does: he takes his name for christ's sake), i think shadow sou most explicitly takes after him, especially if you read soushin as an emotionally abusive relationship.

(lingo: what is an introject? an introject is an alter who represents internalised traits and figures. for example, if you had a personality who treated you like your mother treated you, and reinforces the beliefs you internalised from her, that would be an introject of your mother. they do not have to be accurate to the real person's personality; they only echo how you saw and internalised them.)

shadow sou speaks with sou like an familiar but condescending friend, comments on sou no longer being shin, and exists to reinforce shin's feeling of weakness. midori encourages shin to become the person you want to be; shadow sou is the one to pressure shin into becoming someone else. midori is a 'scary friend' of shin's, shadow sou physically frightens and attacks shin during his moment of panic.

as far as we know, we never meet shadow sou from Sara's point of view, so i interpret him as a more internal alter. there's a lot to play off with sou's / shin's / shadow sou's relationship: i think they are soooo cute. i just wanted to point out the similarities between him and midori.

section: shinaiiiiiiii: what can he tell us?

ok yaay onto shinai. although not strictly a version of sou (not his repressed weak personality, not his polite but wary personality, not his masterminding ego protection personality, and not his internal shadow self), because he is a computer program, he does give us a certain perspective on who sou used to be.

disclaimer: we know shinai was trained by midori's love poetry, and thus you can argue his personality could be slightly altered to be more suited to midori's purposes. for the sake of this section we will take things with a grain of salt: it's what shinai can suggest about shin, not tell.

shinai gives us the impression that shin tsukimi was polite, had somewhat low self esteem, and was conflicted on midori: on one hand, he scared him a lot, but on the other, he considered him close, and they spent a lot of time together.

during the maple boss fight, shinai sobs for midori to help him. i get the impression that despite being afraid of him, shin still relied on midori for security and reassurance (sou's lantern dialogue to corroborate).

my friend suggested that shinai's / sou's conflicting accounts (with part of him being afraid of midori, and the other seeking assurance from him) could in itself imply that shin (even before the game even began) is made up of two alters with opposing attachment styles. i dont disagree.

sou vs the shinai test data

this one will be short i promise.

i really like sou's morbid interest in the shinai test data. and i know the joke is that it's love poetry and sou is embarassed and repulsed by how midori saw him, especially now that he knows how cruel midori can be, but the scene also spoke to me as a dissociative person; there is nothing more viscerally uncomfortable than learning about things you did as a different personality. it messes with your brain, because it was you, but it also wasn't you - it can't be you, you don't remember it, and it's not the kind of thing you would do, but you did - and so your dissociative rejection signals go absolutely insane. so i like this tiny scene for personal reasons.

and thatse it (i think). i think i said it all.

tl;dr:

this is my headcanon :33 or well. a graphic i made a few months ago as i was solidifying the headcanon. some minor things ive changed my opinion on / perception of since but it gets the idea across.

that said i fully support any other interpreted sou hiyori systems. go fuckin wild. i spoke to a friend a bit ago about their personal DID sou take and i had so much fun.

thank you for hearing me out

[starflungwaddledee]

Gimme that GOOD shit girlie 💅✨ (Starstruck x Galacta knight)

✧��°. give up what you love, before it does you in .°˖✧