#does he know that he is the single thread keeping me together

[everytimewetouch-dot-mp3]

my cat deserves a raise for holding the literal entire weight of my life on his teeny little head

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for scamming my ex out of an extremely valuable virtual pet?

🐓🥤to recognize. This might be a very long post with a lot of added context for a very niche hobby and a very small actual conflict.

I religiously play a virtual pet site called Chicken Smoothie. It's a pretty old site as far as virtual pet games go, starting back in 2008, so there is a pretty solid established site economy. Just for some context, Every pet on the site has a rarity, ranging from "OMG So Common" to "OMG So Rare", being the most common and most rare respectively. But there are rarities within those rarities, where some OMGSRs can be worth more than others based on species and demand. For example, an OMGSR dog from 2008 will be worth more than an OMGSR rat from 2008 despite being the same highest rarity and year, because people prefer the dogs over rats. These pets can get extremely valuable. You can't sell them for real money (according to site rules, but of course there's a black market), but the site has its own virtual currency you can buy (with real money) and trade for called Chicken Dollars, and you can also trade a valuable pet for other valuable pets. It gets very complicated, with the community coming up with its own set of value terms each pet can have. I'm not getting into specifics there, that's not important.

Every year, on December 18th, CS has gift boxes you can adopt from. These gift boxes can contain any rare pet from any previous year, including special "Unreleased pets" that you can only get from these Dec 18th boxes, with a very slim chance. These unreleased pets are some of the most valuable and rarest in the game.

Recently, I had seen my ex posting on the forums. I didn't know he had an account, he had made it within this year, long after I got the fuck away from him, and I only knew it was him because he uses the same username everywhere. This person had groomed me, physically abused me when we were together (we no longer live anywhere near each other, thankfully) and has always been emotionally manipulative. He does not know I play, and he wouldn't recognize my account as me. I took a note of his account and left it be for a while, until December 18th hit and I took a peek at what he had got. And what he got was one of the new Unreleased pets, which currently at the time of writing this only looks like a box of cereal. (Most pets on the site have growth stages.) And even better, all his groups were open for trade, so I took a chance and sent an extremely terrible trade. I told him that this pet would only be a recent rare, and I offered him a "Very Rare" rarity (but not very valuable) pet from 2018, telling him I was overpaying. (In the CS community, this is known as Ninjaing, and it's Not A Good Thing To Do). I didn't expect him to accept it, I at least thought he'd be smart enough to ask in the trade advice thread that is literally pinned on the home page for December 18th, but he didn't. He took my word for it and accepted the trade, and now I own an unreleased pet that will eventually end up as an OMGSR.

What I did was not a bannable offence. He will not get his unreleased pet back. The CS mods are laughable at worst, incompetent at best, and don't do anything to stop scamming. They have an "eh, sucks to be you, sorry, be smarter next time" mentality when people get scammed (Which is insane because there are literal single digit aged children allowed on this site!!!)

After taking a bit to think about it, I do feel a bit guilty because I really would not do this in any other circumstances. I hate scamming. I did what I did out of anger and contempt, and I do feel a bit guilty because in essence, I scammed a new player that didn't have much else and didn't know any better.

I'm still keeping that unreleased cereal box no matter what though

What are these acronyms?

[momotonescreaming]

STWG Daily Prompt: Chocolate Covered Strawberries

[Part One]

“Do you think you need a special type of chocolate?” Eddie starts, speaking into the stagnant air of the trailer as he flops down onto the couch. Sends a burst of dust spiralling into the air as the cushions dip under his weight. “To make, like, chocolate covered strawberries or something.”

He cranes his head, hair splayed out around him as he watches Wayne’s reaction. Watches as his uncle lowers the newspaper he was reading, looks over at Eddie from behind the folded pages from his position in his armchair in the corner. Face carefully still as he raises a single eyebrow as if to say how the hell should I know?

Eddie just huffs, rolling his eyes at his uncle, arm draped over the side of the couch as he settles in. He’s tempted to tip himself upside down — pun not intended — hang his head over the side of the couch and kick his legs up in the air. Maybe it would help him think, all the blood rushing to his head. He’d do it, if he wasn’t sure he’d kick over something — a hat, or a mug, or two, or three. “Throw me a bone here, Wayne.”

“I’d say regular chocolate should work just fine.” Wayne says, lowering his eyebrow. Voice gruff, but serious as he gives Eddie an answer. “Just put it in the fridge to keep it cool. Help it set.”

“Are you sure?” Eddie asks, picking at the stray threads of the couch. Running them between his fingers. Plucking and pulling them taut, his voice pitching higher. Tighter. Feeling and sounding a little bit more vulnerable than he intended. “You’re not a chef.”

“Neither are you,” His uncle retorts, face carefully deadpan. And Eddie snorts, the thread of anxiousness he was pulling, now slowly loosening in his chest. “So what bought this on? Dinner with your boy went well I take it?

“So well,” Eddie gushes, smile creeping across his face, cheeks flushing pick at the thought of Steve. At the thought of Wayne calling Steve his boy. He’s sure Wayne can see it from his armchair, looking at him from over the pages of the newspaper. Can almost guarantee it, in fact, if the smile on his uncle’s face is anything to go by. “Steve made us dinner from scratch — lasagne with garlic bread and a wine paring and everything — and it was the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten. And not just because he made it for me. He lit candles, and was wearing this navy blue button down that made him look so hot.”

“Boy,” Wayne says, a little exasperated. He’s still smiling. Eddie can see it curling up underneath his beard.

“We listened to music and made ice cream sundaes together for desert,” Eddie continues, smile not leaving his face. His toes curl, and he sort of lets himself shrink into the couch as he talks. Melting into it under thoughts of Steve. “We kissed and slow danced in the kitchen as I helped him do the dishes.”

“And,” Wayne prompts, raising his eyebrow again, but he’s still smiling. He’s happy for him, Eddie knows.

Eddie sighs, letting Wayne look right through him. He always does.

“And if I don’t do something equally romantic in return I’m going to cry,” Eddie whines, playing it up, slumping even further until he’s almost falling off the couch and onto the floor. Locks eyes with Wayne and pouts. He’s being dramatic, but he means it. Steve deserves the best, deserves the romance he’s always wanted and Eddie isn’t quite sure how to give it to him.

“Romance ain’t a competition, boy,” His uncle simply says.

“It is and I’m losing,” Eddie whines, pulling a face as Wayne just laughs. Deep, and warm, and comforting.

[sarahscribbles]

𝐔𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢'𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐓𝐕𝐀!𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟐.𝟗𝐤

𝐀𝐍: 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬, 𝐬𝐨 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐈'𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲.

𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

You hear the sharp sound of Loki’s footsteps on the atrium floor roughly twenty minutes after slipping the note undetected into his coat pocket. 

“You’re too chicken to fuck me in public,” you had scrawled across the yellow TVA issued notepaper, feeling a heat begin to form between your thighs with each stroke of your pen. 

Was he too chicken, though? You aren’t sure what you and Loki are exactly, but heaven help you you’re enjoying the secret trysts in broom cupboards and bathrooms. It’s what spawned the idea to write him the note - the fact that all your hook ups have been in secret away from prying eyes. 

It was meant to do nothing but tease him, to poke the proverbial bear, but with how quickly and forcefully his footsteps are approaching from behind, you fear you may have flown too close to the sun.

Your heart begins to thump wildly in your chest with each step he takes, and you lose track of what the analysts huddled around you are discussing. Vaguely, you catch snippets of their concern over yet another variant causing havoc on the Sacred Timeline, but their voices fade to a faint drone when the familiar scent of cinnamon and patchouli wraps around you. 

Each quiet inhale of his scent sends an addictive giddiness zipping through your veins. You imagine him slipping his hands in his pockets and feeling the sharp edges of the note - had he just stepped through the Time Door on another assignment with Mobius? Or had he only found it while they were already in the field? How long has he been stewing over that single, teasing sentence and assembling, to him, a suitable consequence?

It has you fighting not to squeeze your thighs together where you stand.

“Terribly sorry!” That familiar, smooth voice rolls over you only seconds later, and you feel two firm hands grip your shoulders. “I’m afraid I have a very pressing issue that requires one of the best minds in the TVA! I’ll have her back in a jiffy!”

Before you can even draw breath to object Loki’s fingers are curling possessively around your upper arm. His pace is frantic as he steers you through Chrono Bay Three, so much so that it really does look like the future of the TVA rests on your shoulders. 

You know different, though. 

You know that, beside you, is a man with enough pent up sexual energy to power a small town. 

It’s exhilarating to see what you do to him. From your place at his side, you can see the tense way he’s holding that strong jaw; you can see how his free hand is curled into a half fist, and you can feel the flex of his fingers through the material of your shirt like he’s itching to get his hands on your bare skin. 

Again. 

“So, what’s this pressing issue that requires my brilliant mind?” you tease him as he continues to pull you through the deserted atrium. “Are the threads of time disintegrating as we speak? Has Miss Minutes gone rogue?” 

You swear that the corner of his mouth quirks, just a little bit, and, for a second, all you want to do is make him laugh. 

Loki’s pace doesn’t falter even for a second as he keeps weaving you both through the intricate halls of the TVA, but he turns briefly to flash you that devilish grin. “Do you really wish to do this, darling? After that little stunt you just pulled?”

Something lurches to life in your stomach, but you forcibly will it down. This is all just a little bit of fun, really. A little bit of excitement in the otherwise boring days of being an analyst. What better way to liven things up than with this man with those beautiful green eyes and the…

No.

Not this time. 

You’re, ironically, saved from any further traitorous thoughts by the very subject of them. Loki comes to an almost comical stop beside that ridiculous “minimise chat in the cafeteria please” sign that’s become a favoured inside joke between you and Mobius, in large part due to the weary sigh it garners from Loki. He throws a casual glance at the handful of other agents milling around - none of whom seem remotely interested in either of you - and yanks you through a door with a sign that reads “Authorised Personnel Only.”

Although the corridor he’s pulled you into looks just like every other corridor in the labyrinth of the TVA, you recognise this as one you’re not overly familiar with. Does this one lead to Repairs and Advancement? Or is this the shorter route to the Automat? You aren’t sure. 

What you are sure of is that it isn’t very wide. 

You turn to face Loki as the door snaps shut. Even under the harsh yellow lights running overhead, he still manages to look every inch the handsome god that he is. It’s both infuriating and exhilarating. 

“A stunt?” you whisper with feigned disbelief. “Who would dare to try the God of Mischief?”

Loki takes two steps to the side so he’s standing directly in front of you at what counts as the “other side” of the corridor. One hand is deep in his trouser pocket while the other rises from his side. Between two elegant fingers sits your little note. “Care to explain?”

An impish smile curls across your face in tandem with your heart beginning to thump wildly in your chest. “Oh, that! I meant to slip that to the new Minuteman this morning. You know, the tall one with the blonde hair? Whoops.”

The god in front of you doesn’t smile. Instead, he inhales slowly, deeply, and locks those hypnotising green eyes with yours. “I thought we had addressed this little issue last week? Do I need to put you over my knee again?”

You swallow silently and make a valent effort to ignore the heat that’s rising to a crescendo between your thighs. The last time Loki had held you over his knee you hadn’t been able to sit comfortably for three days. It hadn’t been the first time and you pray it won’t be the last. 

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Your Highness.” You smirk at him, knowing how much he loves this.

The quirk of his lip is barely perceptible, blink and you would have missed it. He takes two silent steps forward, closing the remaining distance until he’s looming over you. He’s so deliciously close that you could easily get drunk on the scent of him and on the mix of mischief, desire and lust that’s swirling in those pretty green eyes. 

A lavender haze of raw arousal has settled around you like a blanket, twisting tighter and tighter with each second Loki stays silent. His lips are quirked in a half smirk that makes you desperate to know what’s going on in that devilish mind of his, to know what concoction of pleasure and pain he’s cooked up to make you pay for your brattiness. 

It’s foolish, though, to think you’ll ever be able to guess his next move. 

You become overly aware of the wall at your back when he reaches out a thumb and forefinger to grip your chin. It’s a soft touch, but there’s no denying the jolt of electricity that rushes through every vein and pore. 

Because that’s what Loki is; he’s electrifying. 

“On your knees, Agent. Now.” His voice rolls over you low and smooth, but there’s a clear undertone of dominance flowing beneath each word. 

A thrill of excitement shoots along your spine, but it leaves something else in its wake. Something that feels oddly like nerves. 

“Here?” you question him, turning panicked eyes to the rows of doors lining both sides of the corridors. “But…Loki, there are people here!”

Loki answers you with a raising of his brow. “Oh, I do beg your pardon. Perhaps you’re too chicken to be fucked in public?” He throws your own taunt back at you. 

Something in you bristles and you curse your nervous outburst. He has quite enough to hold over your head. “You wish. I do this all the time,” you lie. 

His face is impossible to read. “Then why am I waiting? On your knees.” 

He expects you to obey and the threat of what will happen if you don’t hangs heavily in the air. Normally, you’d want to keep pushing his buttons to see just how far you could push him, your ass be damned, but you’re so completely under his spell that you fall to your knees after only half a second of defiance. 

A satisfied smirk curls across Loki’s face. “There. See how much easier it is when you obey, sweet girl?” he purrs, using those sinfully long fingers to tuck some hair behind your ears. 

“Don’t get used to it,” you shoot back before you can help yourself. 

Loki’s answering laughter is short but genuine. “I wouldn’t be so foolish.” 

His hand curling around your skull is a sign that the talking is over. He holds you there firmly in place while his other hand works at the belt and zipper of his trousers. In several seamless movements, he frees himself from the black boxers he’s wearing underneath, and you feel the slightest pressure on the back of your head as he pushes it forward.

“Open,” Loki orders, curling a hand around his cock and guiding it to your lips. 

They part obediently and he wastes no time in feeding you his cock inch by inch. It’s becoming familiar to you now - the taste of him on your tongue and the musky scent that quickly wraps around you - and yoi’ve done this enough times before to know how much he loves when you run the tip of your tongue along the underside of his cock. 

As expected, you’re rewarded with a soft moan and the feel of his fingers flexing in your hair. It only serves to embolden you. 

Loki’s eyes drift closed as he savours the warm wetness of your mouth around him, and you take the opportunity to take as much of him as you can into your mouth, refusing to stop until the tip of his cock slips down your throat. With teary eyes you hold it as long as you can until you feel your throat start to convulse with the need for air. Only then do you pull back off him until just the tip rests between your lips. 

“Fuck! You divine creature!” Loki rasps out, curling his hand even tighter in your hair. “Keep going! That’s my good girl.” 

You eagerly obey. 

Ignoring the ache that’s beginning in your knees and the quiet hum of voices from behind several of the doors, you focus your attention solely on getting this man off. You do everything that you know he loves - you swirl your tongue hungrily around his tip and lick the aching length of him until his hand flies out to slam into the wall with a groan. 

“Faster !” he grunts, and when you peer up at him, you see him slowly coming apart piece by piece. 

That beautiful face is contorted in pleasure and several black curls have fallen haphardly around his shoulders. He’s panting and moaning like a whore, causing your eyes to dart frantically back and forth between him and the doors behind.

But it’s no longer fear that’s pumping through your blood. It’s raw, hot arousal. 

Loki won’t last much longer, but just when you begin to drive him towards release, he pulls his cock free from between your lips.  “Enough,” he says huskily. “On your feet.” 

Shakily, and with Loki’s help, you climb to your feet, but you barely have a second to appreciate the relief before his lips crash against yours. His kiss is hungry and dominating and, at the same time his tongue slips into your mouth, a hand is pulling your leg around his waist and pushing the brown material of your skirt around your hips.

“Tell me you were wrong,” he pants, hot and heavy against your lips. “Say it.”

“I…I was wrong,” you say as his skilled hands make short work of your underwear. 

“Yes. You were,” Loki taunts, “and I’m going to show you just how wrong right here in this corridor.”

One long finger begins to circle your clit at the same time the blunt head of his cock presses against your soaked cunt. You’re aching for him - you have been since the last time he had pulled you into Time Theatre Four - but Loki only slides his cock through your wetness.

“Fucking hell!” you whimper, reaching out to grab his shoulder through the thick material of his pea coat. “Loki, enough. Just fuck me, please!” 

You see a flash of white teeth before he rolls his hips, sinking his cock into you in one smooth thrust. It’s been so long since he’s filled you that a shameless moan slips from your lips before you can stop it and echoes down the empty hallway. 

You snap your mouth closed and look to Loki with panicked eyes, but he only gives you that infuriating smirk. “I hope you can be sufficiently quiet, little mouse. We’re in quite the compromising situation.”

“Fuck you,” you murmur, but press down on his ass with your foot to coax him into moving. 

Loki chuckles and thrusts into you once more, forcing you to bite your cheek to stop from crying out. “You do have such a way with words.”

His fingers stay at your clit as he thrusts his cock into you over and over. It’s enough to send you dizzy and you grip his shoulders for dear life, but it’s impossible not to let them drift into his curls. They’re soft and silken between your fingers - like they always are - and you’re rewarded with the same deep groan when you twist them around your finger and tug. 

It’s something you accidentally discovered that night Loki had taken you on top of one of the desks in the library - he enjoys having his hair pulled. It’s a small slice of knowledge that you filed away, and it only made you eager to discover what other filth this man got off on. 

Loki, it seems, is just as kinky as you are. 

“How is it…that you feel better…every time?” he pants and slams into you with such force that you can’t swallow your cry of pleasure. 

“Just part of my charm,” you answer on a single breath, though it’s a breath that’s quickly lost to you as Loki increases the pressure on your swollen clit. 

He builds you up expertly, and the tiny ripples of pleasure that begin to ripple in your core are like no other. Whatever this thing is between you and Loki, it’s ruined you for anyone else. 

Each thrust of his cock has the edge crest ever closer, and every pant and groan that escapes his lips has you clenching down harder around him. 

But it’s right when you feel the first swells of your orgasm that the scraping of chairs begins behind a door only a few feet away. 

You look to Loki wildly, but the asshole only waggles his eyebrows at you. “I’d say you have about two minutes to cum, Agent,” he whispers wickedly in your ear. 

You whine and tug him closer, willing your orgasm to wash over you before the door opens. You’re too pent up, too desperate to be left dangling on the edge today.

“One minute,” Loki taunts, though it’s questionable if he’ll last that long.

Maybe it’s from how relentlessly he’s fucking you and the gloriously filthy way he’s grunting in your ear, or maybe it’s due to the exhilarating thought of being caught fucking this god in an open corridor, but your orgasm tears through you only seconds later, drowning you in a pleasure so intense that you bury your face in Loki’s shoulder to stop from crying out. 

It’s white hot and steals the breath from your lungs. You feel it from the very tips of your fingers to the tips of your toes. It’s a neverending tsunami that you would happily drown beneath again and again. 

Loki spills inside you moments later, panting your name and cupping your ass to keep you as close to him as physically possible. It’s a release so blinding that it leaves your ears ringing and your heart hammering in your chest, and you’ve barely come down off your high when your leg falls from Loki’s waist back to the ground. 

The afterglow of release settles around you like a pink cloud. Your chest is heaving as you stand boneless against the wall on shaky legs. It’s beyond you how they’re still supporting you in the wake of a climax so powerful that it’s robbed you of your ability to speak or to form a coherent thought. 

Though you aren’t sure if the feeling of relief is from the explosive orgasm he’s just given you or the fact that you managed to reach it before being caught. 

Your eyes drift lazily to Loki. He’s standing before you infuriatingly proud smirk as he tucks himself away and straightens the brown pea coat that you’ve nearly clawed off his shoulders. It only grows when he reaches out to straighten your skirt down just as a door opens several feet down the corridor. 

He takes a few steps backward to begin melting into the small crowd that emerges from within, but not without sticking his hands in his pockets and giving you a filthy wink. “Until next time, Agent.”

[pillow-princess-diaries]

𝚂𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚕 𝙺𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚛 𝙳𝚊𝚣𝚊𝚒! 𝚇 𝙰𝙵𝙰𝙱!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛...

Scenario: your lovely and charming boyfriend has a dark secret; but you’re chill with it~

Pairing: Serial Killer! Dazai X AFAB! Reader

Genre: Smut

Type: scenario in hc format

W/C: 1.07k (i think😭)

T/W: murder (kinda obvious 🥲),slight yandere-like behavior mentioned,kinda public sex (they fuck in a warehouse),gunplay,blowjob,cum eating,cockwarming,dirty talk, a little bit of degradation (slut,degenerate) a little bit of bein in a mating press,aftercare☺️ (please lmk if i missed anything!🙏)

A/N: hey yall!! Inspiration finally hit me and voila! Hope yall like it and see ya in the next one!

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DON'T FOLLOW, YOU'LL BE BLOCKED!

Serial Killer Dazai! Who comes off so lovely sweet and nice! Your parents,friends,EVERYONE LOVE HIM!

Serial Killer Dazai! Who gets borderline yandere like for you.he loves you and he needss to keep you safe,especially from people like him.but most importantly he needs you to not leave because he needs at least one good thing in his life dammit!

Serial Killer Dazai! Who suddenly gets awkward around you…he’s hiding something and you know he’s good at that…the fact that he’s letting you notice is a sign he wants you to ask him what it is

Serial Killer Dazai! who tells you what he is and what he does,he has (crocodile)tears in his eyes as he tells you, hes so scared you’ll leave him! (No he’s not~he knows you cant leave not while he’s in charge)

Serial Killer Dazai! who’s genuinely surprised when you kiss his tears away,telling him it’s okay and you dont mind. Hes so stunned! And definitely loves that you’re just as fucked up as he is.

Serial Killer Dazai! Who asks you if you wanna come out ‘hunting’ with him.even lets you pick the victim sometimes!!!

Serial Killer Dazai! Who sets up a seat and makeshift stage for you to watch your show.it’s in an old warehouse so no one will even disturb you~

Serial Killer Dazai! who absolutely dements his victims,the look of fascination and curiosity on your face fueling his sadistic behavior.

Serial Killer Dazai! Who notices you shift uncomfortably in your seat,your thighs clamping together and rubbing oh so subtly.

Serial Killer Dazai! Who gets hard at the sight and quickly finishes the kill to get back to you~

Serial Killer Dazai! Who gets his bloody gun,and cleaning it before he stores it for future use;who unbuckles his pants as he makes his way to you.

Serial Killer Dazai! Who hovers above your seated form, his clothed erection at your eye level.

Serial Killer Dazai! Who kneels before you and carasses your cheek saying, “shh bella…relax…ill take care of you~” before kissing you passionately. His skilled tongue exploring the expanse of your mouth.

Serial Killer Dazai! Who pulls aways for air,a single thread of saliva connecting the two of you.

Serial Killer Dazai! Who puts his thumb in your mouth for to suck. you do and his fingers taste vaguely metallic from holding the gun.

Serial Killer Dazai! who cant help but snap a quick picture of you before pulling out his finger and licking it before ordering you to get up,taking your seat and pulling out his pistol. He undoes his pants and underwear ,his cock springing free,precum already leaking from its tip.

Serial Killer Dazai! Who cocks the gun and smirks when you instantly get to your knees and pump his erection before blowing him.

Serial Killer Dazai! Who relishes in the feeling of your mouth around his length ,he holds the loaded gun to your head,the gasp of fear sending a pleasant vibration along his cock, “do me well bella,maybe ill let you cum tonight~”

Serial Killer Dazai! who ,feeling his first release coming on, hold your head down and thrusts up lightly, making you gag, before cumming down your throat.

Serial Killer Dazai! Who makes you swallow every last drop,the idea if his release filling you up in more ways than one driving him insane. “You’re such a fuxking slut for me arent you?you fuxking degenerate” he moans as he sees you swallow.

Serial Killer Dazai! who instructs you to sit on his dick and ride him.who puts the gun in your mouth,ordering you to suck it as you cockwarm. His occasional thrusts causing you to gag on the metallic weapon.

Serial Killer Dazai! Who isnt satisfied and picks you up by the ass (his cock still buried in your cunt) and pins you against a wall.

Serial Killer Dazai! Who brings your legs up around his waist and begins to relentlessly pound into you. In and out so fast its making you go cross-eyed! (He loves the sight~)

Serial Killer Dazai! who begins to work your neglected clit with the tip of his gun. The cold metal sending shivers from your pussy all through your body.

Serial Killer Dazai! Who locks you in a mating press,you jolt against the wall and your pretty moans resonate all through the empty warehouse.

Serial Killer Dazai! who brings your attention to the body right behind you both. He leans in close saying, “did ya enjoy that one bella? Did you see the fear in his eyes? Did it make you wet?” (All rhetorical questions of course)

Serial Killer Dazai! Who’s voice lowers, becoming gentler,raspier as he says,“did i do good? Did you…like it? Did i make you proud?” This wasnt the man who’d been killing a random accountant from the bar moments ago…no. It was him in his most vulnerable form,a child seeking to do good.to be the best

Serial Killer Dazai! Whose eyes darken the moment you nod, and just like that he was back to his usual self,he thrust back into you, “Good.now cum for me you little slut🖤” he says,kissing you passionately, an oddly love filled gesture in a rather lustful scenario.

Serial Killer Dazai! who moans your name as you cum around his cock,he reaches his climax not long after and the feeling gets him moaning even louder.

Serial Killer Dazai! Who lets you down and pulls your panties back up,your cum-stuffed hole still leaking from both of your releases.

Serial Killer Dazai! Who casually makes you rest back on the chair as he drenches the body in gasoline before promptly dropping a lit match into it.he steps back, and admires his handiwork before turning back to you and askin if you’re okay.

Serial Killer Dazai! Who carries you back to his car and drives u both home.who gives you a lovely bath to wash off the blood,cum and dirt (you come out of it with a few more hickeys than you went in with, but its fineeee)

And finally, Serial Killer Dazai! Who gets into his paw patrol pjs before cuddling up to you and holding you close. He’s forever greatful for you and will never stop thanking the stars for blessing him with an absolute angel.

Tag list(open):- @diagonal-queen @sapphic-serenade

All rights reserved © 2023 pillow-princess-diaries. Please do not repost, modify or claim as yours. Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

[cleewii]

rating: R18+

cw(s): 18+ content/MINORS DNI. sub! izuku, dom+gn! reader, izuku is into being called your wife, everyone is sort of a freak here

wanna make a housewife outta IZUKU.

i mean, it’s all just teasing at first. the occasional comment meant to pull that rosiness out of his cheeks whenever he makes you dinner or does your laundry for you.

“you’d make a good wife, izuku.” paired with a laugh that grows with the way his face blooms afterwards.

it’s all jokes, and he knew you didn’t mean anything by it, but slowly the jokes become more and more frequent. calling him your trophy wife, cute little housewife, telling him how pretty a ring would look on his finger.

when you have him laying against your chest, comfortable between your thighs, the jokes keep coming, even after you’ve already fucked him tender and dumb.

“y’could be my cute lil’ wife, you know.”

the soft feel of your lips against his skin has him shuddering a bit. the feeling only just feathers along his neck, then below his ear, until eventually your pressing kisses trailing across his temple.

“just stay home and look pretty f’me. never have to do all that horrible hero work.” your finger slides down from his soft cheek to his chin, turning his head to face you, all the while he’s staring into your eyes with a glazed over, fucked out expression that has a smile spreading across your face. “wouldn’t you like that, honey?”

“uh huh,” he nods, though the words aren’t reaching his brain. there’s only the light post-orgasm buzz warming him up inside, not a single thought can come through. he’d say yes to anything you’d propose right now, because in his eyes you’re divine, and he is nothing if not devoted to you. “please…”

“sweet thing,” you coo, “of course you would.”

“i’d get home from work n’ you’d be makin’ dinner while wearing that pretty ring i’d get you. as a present, i could bend you over the counter and fuck you on it, just like that…wouldn’t that be nice?”

the blood is starting to make its way back into his cock, and all he can do is stare wide eyed and stupid.

“could dress you up all nice and introduce you to my boss ‘n coworkers. And when we leave the party i’ll screw your pretty brains out in the backseat of the car for being so good f’me.”

you giggle a little, and it’s a sound so delicate and innocent he can hardly wrap his head around the filth coming out of your mouth. but that doesn’t stop the way it twists him up inside and leaves him squirming against you.

“bet you’d love that, huh baby?”

“Y-yes…yeah…oh—,” he groans. “please.” his face is starting to get hot, the rest of his body is already beginning to ache with the need searing in is cock. your words paint pictures in his mind that almost leaves spit trailing under his chin, and he’s not quite sure what to do. beg, cry, whine, it’s horrible, the way you toy with him. “please!”

“what’re you sayin’ please for?” Your fingers trail over his bare chest and teas across his pert nipples. “c’mon angel. use your words.”

“f-fuck…fuck me….!” he gasps. “please! make me…make me yours I—I wan’ it! i wan’ it! wanna be y—yours! please…please…please!”

“yeah? you wanna be mine that bad?”

“yes! oh…oh fuck—! yes!”

“but you’re already mine.” you press a kiss to his cheek. “tell me what you really want.”

his breath catches in his throat and it comes out a strangled whine, one that forces another shade of pink across his face.

‘what you really want’ it’s absurd, it’s embarrassing, but the longer you tease him the more he unravels, and he can feel himself slipping. “don’t—“

“oh c’mon angel…humor me won’t you?”

his lips press together tight as he stares at your hands, which lay on either side of his hip bones, thumbs tracing light circles against his skin. it’s a tantalizing feeling, a dull ache forming in his chest that threatens to bubble up into his throat, and he’s trying with the last threads of self control he has left to keep it at bay.

“do you hate the idea that much?”

“no!” he cries, shaking his head like he’s desperate. “n—no I….I….”

it’s too much. this feeling is too much, your touch is too much, the idea is too much.

But he loves it. he holds onto it like a secret he’ll only share with himself, but with you prodding this way, he’s worried he’ll spill.

He just can’t admit that he loves the joke a little too much.

[gurokiitty]

Three words here me out:

Strade

Wedding

Angst

a/n: i'm listening, anon !! 👂 👂 👂 ren is here too becoz why not

JUST THE THREE OF US

{ strade x ren hana x f! reader }

word count: 1.4k

warnings/tags: angst, forced "marriage", physical and psychological abuse, tongue mutilation, blood, forced intimacy (kissing), may be kinda ooc for strade?

As the morning dawned, a single ray of light sneaked through the boarded-up window, casting a thin strip of illumination across the dusty floor. It travelled slowly, like a silent, ethereal intruder in the otherwise shadowed space. You watched it crawl up to your legs, highlighting the bruises and scars marking your skin, as well as the bandages wrapped around your foot— a mocking beacon of faint hope in the dim room.

Beside you, Ren sat stiffly. His usual poise was marred by anxiety, evident by the way his ears flattened against his head each time his gaze darted to the heavy door.

Soon, the sound of footsteps approached and the door creaked open. Strade entered with a twisted smile, holding two garments. For you, a faded white dress— obviously a thrift store find— yet it held a semblance of what could have been a bride’s traditional attire. For Ren, one of Strade's old suits, dusty and unworn.

"Time to get ready," he announced, his voice echoing slightly in the cramped space. "Don’t take too long. We wouldn’t want to keep the big day waiting." His smile widened as he tossed the garments onto the bed, pausing briefly at the doorway to give one last look before turning to leave.

As the door clicked shut behind him, you exchanged a brief, fraught glance with Ren, his eyes mirroring your turmoil. The preparations were mechanical; the simple acts of bathing and dressing became an attempt to maintain a shred of normalcy.

In the small bathroom, you sat in the tub and cleaned yourself carefully below the neck. Each stroke on your skin felt like an attempt to erase the gruelling memories of the past days. The water ran pink, mingling dust and sweat with blood— a stark reminder of the reality you couldn't completely wash away.

The ordeal felt more surreal as you dried yourself and slipped the dress over your head. It hung loose on your frame, the soft material grazing your skin in unfamiliar, almost comforting touches. You looked into the fogged mirror, wiping away the condensation to see yourself. Your reflection was simple yet transformative, and for a fleeting moment, you recognized a shadow of the person you once were.

Stepping back into the room, you noticed Ren standing before a full-length mirror, smoothing his hair. He turned his head slightly as you approached, his suit hanging loosely on his frame. The mismatched fit would have been almost comical if not for the gravity of the situation. You caught his eye through the mirror and his ears perked up slightly.

His gaze lingered before he forced a smile and turned to adjust the collar of his ill-fitting suit. "It doesn't quite feel like a celebration, does it?"

You approached him slowly, the fabric of the white dress whispering against the floor. "No, but we'll get through this. Just like we've gotten through everything else." You replied, your voice steadier than you felt.

"I know we will. It's just..." His voice trailed off as he met your eyes in the mirror again, searching for an assurance neither of you could truly provide.

You reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder, feeling the coarse fabric under your fingertips. "We'll find a way out. Together." It was a promise, a thin thread of hope you both clung to, even as doubt whispered in the back of your minds.

The ceremony that awaited you was nothing short of a macabre performance, orchestrated by Strade for his twisted enjoyment. As you descended the stairs, the ceremonial charade Strade had set up in the living room revealed itself. A crude altar stood at the end, draped in an old tablecloth and surrounded by a few flickering candles.

Strade's presence, polished yet sinister in a crisp, red suit, only heightened the surrealism of the moment. His hair was neatly styled, transforming him into a figure vastly different from the one you knew. Yet, as the candlelight danced across his face, it illuminated his familiar smile while he puffed on a cigar; the smoke curling around him like a visible sneer.

"You two clean up nice," he mused, a sinister melody in his voice. "My beautiful bride and my handsome groom, all dolled up for our big day." His smirk widened as he exhaled, the cigar's scent mingling with the stale air.

Then, Strade stepped forward, positioning himself by the makeshift altar. "Let’s begin, shall we?" He said, taking the cigar between his fingers and clearing his throat.

“Während manche sagen, dass es zwei braucht, um eine Ehe zu schließen, / While some say it takes two to make a marriage,” he began, "Wir drei sind ein Leben lang verbunden. / The three of us are bound together for a lifetime."

His smile twisted further as he concluded in a chilling tone, "In life and death, our fates are forever intertwined."

As you stood there, facing Strade in his unnervingly handsome guise, a mixture of dread and despair settled heavily in your stomach. His eyes, sharp and calculating, skimmed over you and Ren, taking in every detail of your forced readiness.

“Now let's get to the good part, huh?” his voice dropped to a husky whisper as he closed the distance between you; his movements poised yet predatory. He reached out suddenly, gripping your chin with a firmness that made your heart skip.

“A little token to commemorate our day,” he murmured before his lips pressed briefly against yours. His touch was cold, his fingers clamping your jaw as he pulled away.

Before you could react, Strade's hand moved to your mouth, prying it open, his fingers pressing against your lips. Dread washed over you as he withdrew a small knife from his suit pocket. The sheen of the blade caught the flickering candlelight as he unsheathed it, his eyes never leaving yours. You could feel Ren's gaze burning into you, a silent plea for mercy mirrored in his expression.

Strade's grip on your chin tightened as he brought the blade closer to your trembling lips, positioning it at the center of your tongue. Without hesitation, he made a long, deliberate cut down the median sulcus, the cold steel slicing through the soft flesh. Pain seared through you as blood began to pool in your mouth, spilling down your chin in thick rivulets, and staining the white of your dress.

You could hear Ren's sharp intake of breath, his own fate mirrored in the cruel twist of Strade's lips. The room seemed to spin, the weight of your shared agony pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket.

Strade then turned to Ren, who had watched the ordeal with horror etched deeply into his features. Ren’s attempts to protest were muffled by Strade’s swift and brutal actions, repeating the gruesome act. The immediate flow of blood now tied your pains together in the most visceral way possible.

With a monstrous grin, he forced you and Ren to face each other, pushing you two into a proximity that felt both intrusive and intimate. "Now, kiss," he commanded, his voice low.

You reached up, your hands trembling as they framed Ren's face, your thumbs brushing against his cheeks. You could feel his muscles tense under your touch.

Reluctantly, painfully, you leaned towards him, the coppery taste of blood mingling as your lips met. The kiss was soft at first, almost hesitant, but you pressed closer and your wounded tongues touched. The pain sparked again, more intensely, as you both stifled a groan. Blood mixed with saliva, creating a bond that was as real as it was enforced, painting your lips and trickling down in a slow, warm drip that met the front of your dress.

You could feel Ren's breath hitch, his hands coming up to rest hesitantly on your hips, his touch light, as if afraid to cause more pain— or perhaps more connection. The kiss deepened slightly, not out of desire but out of a desperate need to find solace in your shared suffering.

“This is what binds us together,” Strade remarked, “Not just some vows or rings, but blood, pain, and fear. You two are mine, in every way that counts.”

Finally, you pulled away, and the string of blood that had connected you broke, leaving only a sticky residue on your lips.

[op-sys-chaos]

A prompt I just saw by @brucewaynehater101 inspired me so have a sad DC prompt with a happy ending, ft. violence and character death and so much angst but also a good conclusion :)

What if the pits’ effects weren’t forever? What if instead, when you were revived with the Lazarus Pits, the Pit Rage picked a single goal and latched onto it. Not until after the Pit Madness fully fades and leaves only the Pit Rage, so it takes time, but the second you get your mind back the Rage gets a goal. Luckily, once you fulfill that goal, the Rage goes away and you get your mind back fully. Unluckily, it’s a rage-based goal, so it’s usually not pretty.

Jason is still in the midst of the Madness stage when Talia informs him of Tim becoming Robin. He’s almost out of it, but he’s not fully himself yet. The Rage latches onto Jason’s anger at being replaced. So Jason’s Rage goal is this:

Kill Tim.

Jason won’t get hit sanity back, won’t be rage-free, until Tim is dead.

Talia finds out about this and is instantly upset. This time, she’s not just delaying Jason’s return home by sending him to train with a lot of people for Bruce’s sake; she’s also doing it for Tim and Jason. She doesn’t think Tim deserves to die for the crime of putting Bruce back together and she knows Jason will be appalled by what he’s done once he’s fully sane again. So she delays as long as she can. But, like in the comics, Jason still goes home and enacts his plan.

Under the Red Hood still happens pretty much the same. Jason’s still in there, after all, and he’s still mad at Bruce. The only difference is this: during Jason’s attack on Titans Tower, he doesn’t stop. The Pit Rage is screaming at him with single-minded focus to kill Tim. So he does.

And, less than a second after the light fades from Tim’s eyes, Jason gets his full sanity back.

Jason gets his sanity back and the first thing he sees is the body of the little brother he just killed.

He can see it all now. How fucked up some of his plans were. How he never wanted to murder in the first place; the Pit Rage pushed him to do it. He doesn’t even blame Bruce for not getting there in time and not avenging him. He figured after all the shit he just did, they’re even. More than even; Jason just killed Tim. Bruce has the moral high ground now. Maybe he always did, Jason thinks. But he doesn’t have time to analyze his mistakes. Tim’s only been dead for a few seconds. Maybe there’s something Jason can do to save him.

He starts CPR.

Another Titan, maybe Kon, barges into the room (idk where the Titans are, I rest most of UtRH but I never read the Titans Tower bit so all my knowledge here is second hand) and sees Jason kneeling over Tim’s body doing chest compressions. Jason looks up and notices the Titan and tells them to start bandaging Tim’s wounds so he doesn’t lose any more blood.

Jason knows this probably won’t work. He’s desperate to fix it anyway.

The Titan starts bandaging, wanting to ask what happened but more focused on saving Tim, and Jason just keeps doing CPR. Jason doesn’t even notice himself getting tired as he does it; he’s got way too much adrenaline in him right now to care.

It’s been three minutes of CPR. The Titan has tears streaking down their face, knowing Tim isn’t surviving this. They’re about to tell Jason to give up.

And then Tim inhales. And coughs. And he’s breathing again, he’s alive, he’s okay-

Actually, he’s very much not okay, he’s immediately unconscious again and he’s very very injured. They rush him to the med bay at once and get him attached to the machines he needs to start healing. Jason, who followed, finds and needle and thread and starts stitching up the worst of the wounds and replaces the hastily applied bandages with better ones.

Tim stabilizes, but is in a coma for the next two days.

When he wakes up, the first thing he sees is the Titan who found him, followed by the rest of his team. They’re all so glad he’s alive and okay.

“How… how did I survive that?” Tim manages to whisper the second he finds his voice.

The Titan who found him looks at him with an unreadable expression, then says “Jason.”

“What?”

“When I found you, Jason was doing CPR. He ordered me to bandage up your wounds so you wouldn’t lose any more blood. He… he didn’t give up. Tim, he did CPR for three minutes straight to save you.”

Tim’s confused. “How?? Why??”

“You can ask him when you can leave the bed. Right now, he’s in a cell. We haven’t told anyone he’s here; we’re waiting for you to decide what to do with him.”

“We also may have told Batman that you had stayed up for three all nighters so we knocked you out to get you to sleep. That’s why he’s not here; he just thinks you’re getting some much needed rest,” another Titan (probably Bart) explains.

(…Do I even have the Titans roster right for this time period? I just realized I’m thinking of Tim’s YJ team not his TT team I have no clue who’s on TT rn. Anyway.)

“Let me see him,” Tim demands. So they stick him in a wheelchair and roll him to Jason’s cell.

Jason looks up, sees Tim, and pure relief is on his face as he says “You’re okay…” and then instantly breaks down sobbing. The team can make out the sounds of the words “I’m so sorry” over and over if they pay enough attention to the sounds coming out of Jason’s mouth.

Eventually, Tim asks Jason to explain. And Jason tells him that his Pit Rage goal was killing Tim. (The way that Pit Rage works in this AU is well known to the bats.) He explains how that ended up as his goal too. And Tim looks at him with a mix of pity and horror as he realizes. “You finally got your mind back for the first time in 4 years and the first thing you saw…”

“Was my little brother’s dead body,” Jason confirms with a whisper. Tim hides his shock at the fact that Jason called him his little brother right away and moves on with the conversation.

“So you ended up with my death as your goal, because you heard about me becoming Robin while still under Pit Madness and your mind, which was only 3/4 there at that point, decided that B replaced you and that I had to die to prove that Robins just get killed and he should have no more Robins. You end up in the Pit Rage state, leading to all the crime lord stuff, and you’re stuck in it for YEARS.”

“I think Talia delayed me as much as she could,” Jason chimes in. “I’m grateful to her for that. I wish she’d delayed me forever, though.”

Tim’s confused at that. “Jason, you would’ve been in that state forever.”

“It’s better than knowing that I killed my new little brother, even if I managed to undo it right after,” Jason admits, staring at the floor. “How… how can I go home and look B in the eyes after that?”

Tim smiled softly at that. He understood. “Jason, look at me.” With a gulp, Jason looked up. “We don’t victim blame here. We’re Robins. We comfort victims. You were a victim of the Pits, and we all know how the Pits affect a person.”

Jason looks back at his feet, but hope blossoms in his chest for the first time in 4 years. It’s nice to be able to feel that emotion again. “You mean it?”

Tim smiled at him, and instead of answering, said “Welcome home, big brother. You’ve been missed these last four years. I’m glad you’re finally, truly, fully alive again. As far as I’m concerned, the man who killed me died at the same time, and in his place my older brother was resurrected. It’s nice to finally meet you, Jason.”

Jason starts bawling at that. At Tim’s gesture, the Titans unlock Jason’s cell, and Tim rolls his wheelchair close enough to finally hug his brother. He’s not much of a hugger, but this is a hug-worthy occasion.

Jason is by Tim’s bedside for the rest of his recovery, being brotherly and making sure Tim heals. Eventually, Tim goes home, and he brings Jason with him. (None of the bats knew Jason’s identity at this point, besides Tim who figured it out bc he’s Tim.) People are suspicious about his spontaneous resurrection, until they mention that it’s not spontaneous at all. “He had to fulfill his Pit Rage goal first. Don’t worry, it was nothing that couldn’t be undone. We’ve already fixed it, so don’t ask,” Tim says, putting the matter more or less to rest. The Red Hood retires, leaving a message saying “I’ve seen the light and I’m gonna go join it.” No one knows if that means that he’s now a good guy or he left to go off himself. Most people assume the latter.

Jason rejoins the Batfamily after a few weeks of family bonding and healing under a new moniker (dealer’s choice). He’s wearing a domino (and Hood never too his helmet off) so no one really associates the two besides conspiracy theorists who think Hood’s message meant the first option. They’re right, of course, but Jason denies it when asked. Batman never finds out who was under the Red Hood, but Tim says “don’t worry, I know, and he’s gone now” and proceeds to make Batman regret asking whenever he brings it up again by being the most cryptic mf alive. Jason thinks it’s hilarious and helps Tim come up with vague ominous shit to say whenever B asks.

Eventually, Damian joins the family, and Jason jumps to Tim’s defense the second Damian tries to kill him. Damian doesn’t get in more than two swings before he’s stopped, and quickly learns that this family loves each other and murder isn’t okay. (He didn’t do it because Talia convinced him that Tim stole his spot as heir or anything; he just decided that all on his own, so when he was proven wrong it didn’t take all that long to convince him unlearn that notion.) Within a few months of Damian settling in, Tim passes on the Robin mantle willingly and becomes his own hero (the name is again dealer’s choice).

When the BruceQuest happens, Tim isn’t alone this time. When he insists Bruce is alive, Jason sides with him, saying “I came back from the dead, I’m sure Bruce can too.” (Half of the reason he sides with Tim is lingering guilt from the Tower, honestly, but hey it’s someone who believes him, Tim will take it.) Tim shows Jason how he arrived at that conclusion and Jason thinks it through and ends up fully on board. Between Tim and Jason, they get Dick to sit down long enough to hear Tim out, and within minutes the whole family is sure Bruce is alive. It helps that Damian was already Robin so that lingering angst didn’t hurt the already limited conversational abilities of the batfam. They all work together, and Bruce gets back in a week. Dick doesn’t have to take over as Batman and Tim doesn’t lose his spleen or get nearly SAed or any of the other horrendous shit that happens during that comic run (which is actually really well written and I recommend you read it, for Tim’s inner monologue at minimum. He’s so sassy, I love it. But I digress). As a side effect, the LoA is still going strong because Tim didn’t have to take it down, but it also means they don’t have Tim’s help with the Council or Spiders and the two groups do a great job of destroying each other.

Eventually, years pass, and Jason and Tim’s relationship has healed enough to start making jokes about what happened. To each other quietly at first, but one day, the family is playing Among Us and Jason (the imposter) kills Tim. In the ghost chat, Tim goes “smh, this betrayal hurts worse than when he actually killed me” and Duke, Babs, and Steph, who are already dead, start freaking out about “Tim what do you mean he killed you when did this happen are you okay are you fucking with us what happened???” Other people who die join the chat to pure chaos and Tim just silently laughing and screenshotting the whole thing, sending the images to Jason, who’s also cracking up. The second the game ends, everyone explodes with questions. All Tim says is “what happens in 20xx stays in 20xx” and doesn’t elaborate any further. The whole family starts digging through the reports from that year but of course find nothing. Jason and Tim think it’s hilarious. Everyone else is concerned. Eventually, though, the decide it’s just some prank or inside joke between the two. Until one day, Tim makes a joke about it when the Titan who found him initially is around, and the Titan goes “ugh, don’t remind me, seeing your dead body was horrifying.” The family goes straight back into freak out mode. Jason and Tim are too busy cracking up to answer, and the Titan shrugs and goes “I’ve been informed that what happened in 20xx stays in 20xx.”

Eventually, though, the group is in some situation where they have to confess secrets. Maybe there’s truth serum involved, or it’s like that secrets cave from Once Upon a Time where you have to share a secret to get out. And Tim admits that Jason’s Pit condition was killing Tim, and that the first thing Jason did when he got his sanity back a moment later was bring back his little brother. Tim also admits that he’s glad that that was the condition, because it meant he could be there to help Jason the second he came back to himself. Everyone is understandably horrified, but Jason’s touched that Tim was glad he could help him. Besides, Tim and Jason have been joking about it for a while now, so clearly, they’ve moved on from it. They’re okay. And then it’s Jason’s turn on the confessional. And he confesses to being the Red Hood. Batman and Nightwing of course freak out, but to the rest, they’ve only heard vague stories and seen the personnel file on Hood. They don’t get the big deal. Luckily, Dick realizes that Hood’s disappearance, followed by a note soon after announcing his retirement, coincided with the end of the Pit Rage. Batman, on the other hand, figures out that the Titans lied to him about Tim being on bed rest at that time and that Tim was actually recovering from his death. The Teen Titans get a massive lecture later, but Dick calms Bruce down eventually. They also update Hood’s file, noting that he’s retired and was under the influence of something during his time as a villain.

All in all, it ends well. The family is okay, the siblings are all actually on pretty good terms with each other, and Bruce has all of his kids home safe and sound whenever it’s time for weekly family dinner. Are they perfect? Of course not. It’s the batfamily, they’re still emotionally constipated af. But they’re a family, and they’re all as sane as they can be. And that’s what matters.

Ok it got a tiny bit heavy again at the end, I meant to end it with the among us bit, but still. What do yall think? :)

[miraclewoozi]

NETFLIX AND-- ? - c.hs

you try everything in your power to try and help your workaholic boyfriend unwind on his night off. you quickly find out that vernon doesn’t know how to just do nothing.

pair; vernon x fem reader. genre; domestic smut. MINORS DNI. wc; 2.3k (short n sweet <3) note; saw a prompt while i was scrolling through some things and it had me feeling feelings. experiencing experiences. apparently i am soft needy for him today. barely proof read. smut tags utc. xoxo

smut tags; soft!dom/service top vernon but he’s also a fucking tease. fingering (f rec). sort of edging, more of a continued stop/start. squirting. implied that vernon has a praise kink (shock horror). let me know if i've forgotten any.<3

in your defence, you started out with perfectly innocent intentions. 

vernon works himself too hard. you wish he wouldn’t, but he does — it’s a fact, and even though he’ll always shake his head and deny it, you know it’s true. self care, to him, is working. it’s in the fulfilment from a job well done. it’s the clap on a shoulder from a higher-up that recognises how hard he’s been slaving away at his computer screen. it’s in getting results, and he doesn’t get results if he doesn’t do. if he doesn’t maintain. if he doesn’t nigh-on exhaust himself for the sake of the company he’s employed by.

so, you’ve made a plan. on friday, in the few hours he’ll have free between finishing work and settling down to sleep, you’re going to do whatever you can to look after him.

it starts with dinner. heartfelt, home-cooked food. he drops his bag by the front door and his entire face turns so soft he thinks it might melt clean off him. the aromas from the kitchen hit him and he floats across the apartment like a cartoon, all the way to where you’re stood waiting for him, a sort of dopey grin spreading across every single one of his features. 

“that smells so good,” he whines, putting his arms around your waist and nuzzling into your neck. when you ask how his day went, he says he doesn’t remember, he doesn’t care. because he’s home now, and because loves you so much — he doesn’t want to think about anything else.

he clings to you until the food is ready and laid out on the dining table, only pulling himself away when it becomes apparent that he’s not going to be able to have his dinner sitting in your lap.

you eat together with the lights slightly dimmed, a few candles illuminating the table. you talk, a little, but the quiet that surrounds the bubbles of conversation is just as comfortable, so neither of you are bothered when your minds are more focused on the food in front of you than conversing with each other. after, he helps you clear the dishes and stack them over by the sink: you’ll deal with them later on. 

your hand finds his, then, fingers intertwining, and vernon lets himself be dragged all the way to your bedroom. he changes out of his work clothes, tosses them into the laundry basket, and slips into an old, worn, stained and atrociously ugly pair of sweatpants instead. he bypasses a shirt at your instruction and lies face-down with his head nestled between the pillows. 

with one of his own playlists already filling the air around you, you straddle over his hips and start to massage your way up his back. your hands smooth over his skin, thumbs working at a couple of tight spots that have him gasping and grunting, threading his fingers through his own hair to try and keep still. it hurts a bit, but it’s a good kind of pain. so, he lets you work your magic on him; vernon feels all soft and loose, a bit like a deflated balloon animal, by the time you sit up enough for him to be able to roll over between your legs and face you again.

“i thought we could watch a movie tonight, too,” you say quietly, just barely audible over the soft r&b tune in the background. your fingertips tickle up and down his sides as you speak; he sighs at the softness of your touch. “anything you want.”

“what’s all this in aid of, exactly?” he asks, quirking up an eyebrow. his voice is deep and kind of  rough-edged. the way you like it most.

you laugh, quietly, and bend low to kiss the corner of his mouth, caging him in with your forearms either side of his head. “just… because i love you.”

his hands snake up your body to rest against your cheeks and he holds you in place for a second longer. one of the many, many things you love about vernon is the way he kisses you. every time, like it’s the first time. (a symptom of being a closeted rom-com enthusiast, perhaps?) but each press of his lips to yours is always so infused with passion: even the small ones, like this. with his eyes closed, his nose pressed to your cheek, the corners of his mouth pulled up into a shy smile. there’s adoration in every single moment. 

you roll off him when he lets go of you and sit up against the headboard, letting him go through the motions of choosing something for you to watch. a few minutes (and no less than three coin tosses to make the decision) later, you open an arm out for him at the sound of the movie starting, and he curls up into your side. his head rests peacefully on your shoulder, one of his legs hooked over one of yours, your arm snaked around his back. you settle into each other’s embrace in a way that you’ve not had time to do in a long while, matching hums of tranquillity vibrating in both of your throats.

the grand budapest hotel has only been playing for about twenty minutes when you feel him start to move slightly, the tips of his fingers gliding slowly across the hem of your t-shirt. you don’t make anything of it at first, because vernon has always had slightly restless hands, no matter what he’s doing. this is very normal for him. he’s probably just mindlessly feeling the fabric beneath his touch as he watches one of his favourite movies.

another few minutes pass and you feel his nails drag against the bare skin of your tummy. you raise an eyebrow and look at him, but his eyes are trained on the tv, even if one side of his mouth is lifted up in a sly kind of smile.

“what are you doing, babe?” you ask him. he lifts his head from its place on your shoulder and shrugs.

“nothing.”

“mhm, sure you aren’t.”

his hand moves down, then. down, towards your shorts. down, to where his palm wraps around your thigh, half resting on the material of your clothes and half sitting on your bare leg. his fingers make small, light, circular movements against your skin and he nudges your other thigh over slightly with the knee he settled between your legs earlier, effectively spreading you open for him. just a little.

just enough.

“vernon,” you chuckle, but you don’t make any attempt to move your legs back together. “come on, relax. watch your movie.”

“i am,” he says matter-of-factly, not taking his eyes off the screen. “wish i could say the same for you, though.”

“you’re terrible,” you sigh. 

“mm. no, i’m not.”

he creeps further and further up your thigh, until his hand has slipped completely under your loose fitting sleep shorts and he’s effectively pulling them to one side. a breath catches in your throat and you accidentally arch a little as you feel him brush over your underwear.

“watch the movie,” he says, a little more sternly, and you swallow thickly but settle down more comfortably again. if this is how he chooses to decompress… who are you to stop him, really?

but he knows you too well. knows your body like it’s his own. knows exactly how to make you tick without making you jump his bones and take control. his thumb starts to trace small circles over your covered clit, eliciting quiet gasps from your mouth, but every time you react – what he deems to be – a little too much, he stops. removes the pressure. leaves you to squirm.

“vernon,” you sigh after the third time, agitated but needy and squaring your jaw at his teasing. your panties are soaked by now and you need to feel more of him, but your boyfriend seems to be more than happy to work you up on his own terms. how long will he keep going like this for? there’s at least an hour left of the film; surely he won’t make you wait that long?

“focus, baby.”

or maybe, he will.

his lips find home at the base of your neck and he presses a series of small kisses to your skin, returning his thumb to your panties and rubbing you through them a little harder, pressing the fabric into your heat, smirking at the way your arousal seeps through them and coats his fingertips. your breaths start to pick up again, and you do everything you can to stop him from noticing, but he’s maybe a little too caught up sucking the sweet spot behind your ear to notice how fast your heart is beating from the way he touches you.

so when he drags your underwear out of the way and slides an elegant finger through your folds, you really don’t think you can be blamed for the fact that an unstifled moan leaves your lips.

vernon disagrees, though. because of course he fucking does.

“baby,” he challenges you, his finger just millimetres away from your clit when he stops moving it. “come on. you wanted to help me unwind tonight, didn’t you? that’s what all this was. you were being good to me.”

you nod at him, and he kisses your neck again.

“then watch.”

keeping your mouth tightly shut and fighting against the noises that your body so desperately wants you to make, you let him continue. you let him trace your arousal over your clit, let him dip his finger lower and press just enough inside you that your walls flutter around it. you let him work deeper, and add a second, and try your best not to clamp your legs around his poor wrist when he brushes against the sweet-spot inside you the way that only he knows how.

“s’that feel good, baby?” he asks you.

your eyes are all but glazed over and you don’t think you really know what’s going on in the movie anymore. you can’t remember the names of the characters. is there even a plot? or is it all just pretty, symmetrical imagery now? who the hell is the person that just showed up – surely you haven’t seen him, yet? fuck, you’re completely, hopelessly lost in his fingers and the way they’re buried inside your pussy. every reaction you want to give, you can’t, and it’s so difficult. 

but you nod at him anyway, because the least you can do is tell him he’s doing a good job. he likes to hear that sort of thing. 

and if there’s any dialogue in the grand budapest hotel, you don’t have a damn clue what’s being said. his fingers move faster inside you and the heel of his hand puts enough pressure on your clit that all of your muscles are tight in an attempt to do what he’s asked. the only sounds in your ears are the smacking of his lips on your throat and the lewd noises that come from the way your pussy sucks his digits in deeper. 

you feel like a little toy, wound up to high heaven. waiting, waiting, waiting to be released. waiting to fall into oblivion.

“vernon,” you gasp eventually, silently begging that he won’t stop, that he won’t leave you hanging when you’re so close to the edge.

thankfully, he doesn’t.

“mhm?” he curls his fingers again, a little harder, making you buck up into his hand. whatever game he was playing, he seems to be moving past it now. maybe he wants you to come as much as you do.

“close,” you strain. he nods, slowly, positioning his wrist differently so that he can lay his thumb over your clit instead. the much more deliberate pressure has you seconds away from seeing stars.

“m’gonna ask you about this movie tomorrow, you know,” he chuckles, but he doesn’t slow. he fucks his fingers into you over and over, bringing you closer and closer, and when your toes curl, when you grip his wrist with one hand, when your head falls back against the headboard –

euphoria rushes through you. wetness gushes from you. you feel your pussy contract around his fingers, hugging them tight even though your release tries to expel them; he lets you ride the high out, lets you make a mess on his hand as your hips roll down to meet him, a series of whines and moans falling from your lips. his own continue their gentle caress of your neck. you’re in bliss.

he pulls his fingers from you when you tug at his wrist to tell him to do so, lifting them to his mouth and sucking them clean of your arousal and your release. you close your eyes when he kisses you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, and his (granted, still kind of sticky) hand comes up to cup your face. 

adoration in every moment. like it’s the first.

“don’t bother asking me about it,” you tell him as he pulls away, bumping your nose against his and hearing, from the quiet wet smacking sound they make, how his lips grow into a smile. “i don’t know anything that happened.”

“this is the fourth time i’ve tried to get you to watch this movie, y/n,” he chuckles. 

“and this is the fourth time we’ve ended up here. what, does tilda swinton in that ugly wig really do it for you or something?”

“shut up,” he snorts, ever so gently pushing your cheek to move your head away from him. “no-one ever said you had to give into me that easily.”

“oh, you shut up,” you huff, closing your thighs and feeling how your shorts and panties cling to you uncomfortably, only half covering you after he failed to put them back properly. “i was supposed to be helping you chill out. it’s not my fault that you can’t go five minutes without getting handsy.”

“it’s absolutely your fault,” he challenges, getting to his knees and facing you. you can see his cock tenting his sweatpants now and you’d be lying to say that it doesn’t stir something in the depths of your stomach. “you know i can’t resist you in those shorts.”

“you’re so stupid,” you grin, opening your legs up for him to settle between, and he moves over straight away.

“yeah, well,” he chuckles, reaching down to pull your t-shirt up off your head. “you happen to love my kind of stupid.”

thank u sm for reading!! likes, reblogs, comments + feedback are all greatly appreciated!<3

[rachalixie]

eight days of christmas carols - day 7

seungmin - santa tell me

to you, kim seungmin was - complicated, to say the least. he’s the picture perfect boy-next-door, wide and awkward braced smiles turning into the elegance with which he carries himself as the years passed by. 

you can’t remember when you first fell in love with him, but with every passing winter you fell harder and harder into his charm. from the neighborhood christmas parties that you only attended so that you could talk to him to the present he would drop off for you in the earliest hours of christmas morning, there wasn’t a single thing he did that turned you away from him. 

except for the fact that you didn’t know how he felt about you. 

when you were younger, you would write about him in the letters that other kids would wish for gifts in. santa, tell me, you’d pen, keeping your handwriting neat so that whoever received it would have no guesses as to what you wanted to know. does he really care?

now, you knew better. you knew he cared, he was your best friend in so many different ways. the lingering question remained, though, of whether he wanted more.

a question that kept you distant from him in times where you wanted nothing more but to melt into his stupidly boyfriend-shaped hoodies. times like right now, as you were hiding behind your decked christmas tree, peering out at the lingering crowd of party goers that were slowly leaving one by one as the christmas day passed. 

you find seungmin among them, his parents somewhere not too far, and he’s kneeling on the hardwood petting your dog who looks like he’s having the best day of his entire life. he’s smiling up at your parents while he scratches at your dogs ears, and they look so right together - like they were family. 

it’s not an uncommon sight, since your family held this party year after year. and year after year without fail, seungmin attended like he had nowhere else he would rather be, like he was where he belonged. 

you take an ornament into your hand, your oldest one that’s stayed with you almost as long as seungmin had. it was a plush snowman with a santa hat, threads along the edges fraying with age. 

santa tell me, you whisper to it, feeling a bit silly. is he really there? 

seungmin glances in your direction as if he heard you over the chatter in the room, a frown on his face as his eyes dart back and forth until they land on you. immediately, a smile takes over his features, his eyes brightening like the lights in front of you and his spine straightening in excitement. he holds a hand out to you, beckoning you over with not a single question of why you were hiding in your own home, and you know this is your sign. 

play it cool, you mutter to yourself as you detach your body from its position behind the tree. this was your chance. 

you approach him with a question on your lips that you hope above everything else he says yes to. 

—

carols masterlist

[ihrthoney]

if anyone could’ve saved me (pt. 1)

pairing: manila!mikey x f!reader

warnings: angst, no comfort :)

word count: 600

an: i could’ve fixed him 😔☝️ (i kinda don’t like how this turned out lol)

The night was quiet, usually, he would bask in the silence. The warmth of your body keeps him steady, and your chest slowly moves up and down, reminding him that you’re alive.

He slowly pulls his phone out and takes a picture of you. It's so peaceful and so vulnerable… Mikey wants to keep this moment with him forever. If he could, he would spend the rest of eternity here.

There’s nothing he wants more than to be by your side, alas, the present does not allow him to be happy. Not with the grave sins he’s committed.

Everyone that he has ever loved and cared for is dead; by his hands. Mikey knows he doesn't deserve this, you don’t deserve this.

You deserve to be happy and to live a long life without worries. He wishes he could be a third of the man you deserve but this body of his is too tainted. Mikey knows what he has to do, if he doesn’t do it now, he knows he’ll regret it.

Against his will, the raven-haired man slips out of bed as quietly as he can. A warm hand caresses your face for the last time, he presses a kiss to your forehead and walks out of your life.

He couldn’t kill you. He just couldn’t. The intimacy he shared with you created a love like no other. His hands were far from clean and he’d be damned if he got your blood on his skin.

Mikey promised to protect you, and if leaving you protected you from himself, then he would do it. Not a single soul knew of you, only the spirits of those he loved.

Not even Izana knew of you, he had lied and said he had killed you to keep you from harm's way. Which leads Mikey to his next destination,

Manila.

-

Currently, Mikey is in the abandoned building where Shinichrio found the old motorcycle parts. What a place to die, he thought.

Despite how he turned out, you never left him. It didn’t matter how many times he asked you why nor did you care when he begged you to live a happier life.

“A universe where I am happy without you does not exist.” You had sweetly said, he cried in your arms that day.

His heart aches at the thought of you waking up to an empty bed, searching for him only to find a letter. He hopes you take his advice and flee the country… if only he could’ve traveled the world with you.

Mikey’s thoughts are interrupted by the sight of Takemichi.

He asks- no begs, Takemichi to kill him. There was no way he would do it in a place where you could find him. What better place than this, where his brother found treasure, he could be the bones on top.

Of course, Takemitchy couldn’t pull the trigger. Mikey had hoped threatening him would’ve been enough but a tough son of a bitch Takemitchy was. Naoto, thankfully, shot him.

The pain in his head couldn’t compare to the hurt in his heart. He wishes he could’ve seen you one more time. As Takemichi begs Mikey to stay alive, he thinks of your smile.

Your smile was so kind, so bright and full. After Shinichiro, Mikey lost everyone, his life was nothing but suffering. Although, you were the thread of string that kept him together.

Takemichi’s hand feels so warm, his vision starts to blur, and he can’t feel his body anymore. It’s the middle of the day, the sky is clear and the air is warm, but as he exhales for the last time,

Mikey imagines he’s lying next to you and hopes when he opens his eyes, he’ll see you peacefully sleeping in his arms.

© ihrthoney. reblogs & feedback are greatly appreciated𑁤

[luveline]

can I request more bodyguard James? he’s just the cutest and I’m happy to read anything about it!!

thank you for your request! you and James go shopping and get mistaken for a couple ♥︎ fem!reader 1k

James looks like your boyfriend, sometimes. There are moments that he deems low risk in your life where he won't wear his radio or his utility belt, opting instead for plain black civilian clothing. In those moments, you aren't proud of yourself for doing so, but you like to pretend he is your boyfriend. 

He's looking through broccoli's for you. You hadn't asked him to. His hands sift through huge trees until he's found the most vibrant, holding it up for your inspection. 

"Perfect," you praise, opening your small paper bag so he can drop it inside with the rest of your hand-picked veggies.

The only thing left on your list is extra virgin olive oil, but you don't want to go home yet. You like the way people look at you and James when you're together,  awed and a little jealous. They might wonder how you nabbed a man like him, and of course you haven't nabbed him at all. That's your secret to keep. 

You meander down the vegetable aisle, your eyes skipping over snap peas and cabbages, bags of wonky carrots and parsnips. James grabs a bag of rooster potatoes before you can stretch over the crates for them. 

"Gotta wake up earlier in the morning to beat me, angel," he says. 

"I don't think I could." 

James wakes up at 3AM every morning, if he's to be believed. It makes sense. He wakes up, does bits around the flat, works out, has breakfast, and is waiting smiley and bright-eyed when you emerge from your room at 6:30. You're never as put together as he is, usually in your nightgown or one of those matching pyjama sets that make him look you up and down (though you both pretend he doesn't). 

No matter how bleary your vision is, it's impossible to miss the way he smiles at you every single day, like you're the sun coming up over the horizon. His pretty brown eyes squint, his thick crop of eyelashes threading together at their corners, and he says some warm variation of, "Morning, princess. Is it me or did you get prettier while I was gone?" 

"We could try it out. Of course, if you wake up at three, I'll have to start waking up at midnight," he says now. 

"I don't know how you do it," you say. Your voice is softened by genuine admiration. 

"I get to see you. Makes it easy." 

He's flirting, but with James you can never make out where the line is. Does he want you to flirt back? Does he want you to want him? You'd say without hesitation that James is your best friend in the whole world. He'd say without hesitation that his best friend is actually a duo, Sirius and Remus. That makes it hard. 

But it's okay. You don't need anything more than this: his hand on your shoulder guiding you across the aisle to the fresh fruit punnets, the smell of his cologne a familiar treat. 

You pick up a couple of things you like, mostly stuff you know you can convince James to share. He likes oranges best, so you grab a bag of huge ones and drop them in your basket with the veggies. It's getting heavy. You can practically see James' holding in an offer to carry it for you.

You're somewhere in the spreads and grains aisle when an older lady approaches you, or rather James, tapping him on the elbow gently.

"Hey, hun, you couldn't help me reach something?" 

"I'd be happy to!" he says cheerily. 

"Thanks so much. I've never been very tall, and every year I seem to shrink. It's just over here." 

James legally isn't supposed to stray from your side, so he threads his hand under your upper arm and pulls you with him. 

The elderly woman points to a box bragging organic, dehydrated strips of applesauce. "It's those right there if it's no trouble for you, hun." 

"No, of course not." 

James grabs her box with little to no effort expended. He doesn't even need to go on toes. 

"God, he's so tall," the elderly lady says to you. 

"He's super tall," you echo, your sunny talking-to-strangers voice in play. 

"And very handsome. You're a lovely couple." 

You fall into silence with your lips parted, not sure what to say. It isn't worth correcting and potentially embarrassing her for a harmless assumption, especially when you like that she thinks it, but you don't want to embarrass yourself in front of James by looking to eager. 

"She's the lovely one," James says, offering the applesauce with a huge beaming smile. 

She presses her hand to her collar, basket proffered until James places the applesauce carefully on top of a punnet of plums and a TV magazine. 

"Thank you," she says. "Getting old's no fun when you're short. And my husband was even shorter than I am! You hold on to this one, love, you never know when you'll need something from a tall shelf."

You and James laugh in a mirrored delight at her easy-going joking, his hand falling against the top of your shoulder, fingers spread and clasping. You swear, heat radiates like the sun from his touch alone. 

"I'm holding on about as tightly as I can," James says, "she couldn't get rid of me if she wanted to." 

You look at him, startled, and meet his earnest gaze. "I don't want to. I don't think I'll ever want to." 

James smiles. 

The elderly woman nods like this is something she'd suspected. 

"Good. You're a perfect pair," she says.

James rubs the space between your shoulders affectionately while he finally steals the heavy shopping basket from over your arm. You're too flustered from his touch to kick up a fuss. 

"I've been thinking the same thing," he says. 

[bullet-prooflove]

On the darker nights, you get me through

Tagging: @kmc1989 @queenslandlover-93 @newyorkrican922 @bryandechartisasmolbean @lovethis-lovethat @goblinenby @foxfables @solar-raccoon

Companion piece to Wild Bloom & A Boy from Bozeman

It’s been twenty years since you left Bozeman and Lee still carries that worry doll. It’s a saving grace during the nights he’s plagued with bad dreams about the shit he’s done and the shit he’s going to do in the name of the ranch.

When he wakes up, his heart pounding, his breath catching, he clutches that worry doll to his chest and he thinks of you, of that last summer you spent together, so young, so recklessly in love.

He starts to calm as he recalls the glow of the campfire across your skin, his fingertips guiding down the straps of your white sundress before he took you to bed for the first time. He’d been a late bloomer back then compared to the other guys in his class but he’d been happy to wait for you, glad that he did because you were perfect that night, and all the others that followed after.

“I’m worried about the man I’m becoming.” He tells the doll, his lips brushing over the slender threads. “About the man this place has turned me into.”

As always the doll remains silent as he tucks it underneath his pillow and turns onto his side, imagining you laying in the space alongside him. He runs his palm over the sheets and he thinks about what could have been, a wedding at the small church in town, you working on your research papers at the desk he would have built you.

It's pathetic he knows, that he still holds a torch after all this time, that every single woman he’s been with since hasn’t come anywhere close to his memory of you.

“You need to take a wife.” His father had told him last week. “Carry on the ranch.”

Lee had had to walk away because that’s the one thing he refuses to budge on. He won’t bring a child into this legacy, he won’t let the burden of it destroy their dreams, the same way it destroyed his.

He’s out in his workshop around the back of the farmhouse working on a chess piece for the wooden set he’s creating for Jamie’s birthday when he hears a car pulling up beside his truck. He glances up at the clock on the wall and realises he’s lost track of time again. He always does when he gets involved in a project. He’s supposed to be meeting up with a conservationist regarding the wild bloom in the field not far from here.

He’s positive he’s spotted some streambank wild hollyhock up there, a flower so rare that it’s endangered throughout the US. Seed germination usually only starts after a wild fire and there’d been one a few years ago that had gutted the pasture. Since then a plethora of flowers had sprung up through the destruction and Lee spends most of his very little free time, documenting them in the journal he keeps tucked inside his left interior pocket.

He almost does a doubletake when he sees the car parked alongside his truck. It’s an old Volkswagen beetle similar to the one you’d driven away in back then. His heart skips a beat as his gaze strays down to the bumper and sure enough there’s the ding from where he backed it into a fence post, trying to manoeuvre it into your daddy’s garage.

The car door opens then and you step out into the sunshine, hair falling across your features, the same way it did back then. He longs to reach out and touch it, to tuck it back behind your ear but instead he jams his hands into the pockets of his worn Levi’s.

“Anna-May…” He says and you tilt your head up to look at him.

Your eyes meet and in that moment twenty years just fall away and you’re both eighteen again, standing beside an old Volkswagen Beetle that’s seen much better days.

“Lee.” You say, a smile lighting up your features and it feels like the moon, the stars and the sun have all colluded to bring the two of you right here to this very point in time. “It’s great to see you.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[starboysbrainrot]

Since it’s jetko week, do you any hc about jetko ? Any hot takes about jetko ? Any specific thoughts ?

hey anon !

i think that my fav hc jetko would have to be either Jet becoming his personal bodyguard, first as an attempt to “keep the new Firelord in check” and then in an attempt to just protect Zuko when he sees how often Zuko’s life is threatened by him being the new Firelord.

or Jet & Zuko living together far from any big cities, with a big family, after abolishing the FN monarchy. it’s probably the least realistic one but it’s I think the one where both get that they deserve : a peaceful life, filled with love and happiness.

now if we’re speaking about hot takes, i posted this thread on x bc anon inspired me to put my thoughts on paper so I’m just gonna copy past it here

it’s not specifically jetko thoughts but I do think that the fandom tends to be too harsh on Jet & Zuko in one specific episode. and for me that’s City of Walls and Secret.

now don’t get me wrong. yes, Zuko was lying about his identity, yes Jet was stalking two people and started a fight, but that’s really, textually, not that bad. Jet is traumatised, paranoid and stressed so when he has the slightest hint that maybe Iroh might be a firbender he’s TERRIFIED literally and every single part of his brain that might think rationally just doesn’t work anymore. and that’s perfectly understandable given what happened to him.

that’s doesn’t make it 100% ok since, yeah they are so many EK citizens that might come from colonies, with mixed heritage, or with fn ancestry that might make them a firebender without being fire nation, and Jet had no way of being sure about this. but as I said his reaction is textually completely understandable.

now for Zuko, he would be in mortal danger if his identity was revealed (which people tend to forget) and he cannot afford to give up on his secret identity for a boy he barely knows. I know y’all like to make it big by saying he kind of betrayed jet’s trust, but jetko, as much as I love it spent max a few days together on the ferry, and that’s it. that’s literally it.

zuko even declines Jet’s offer because he cannot afford being close to someone when he is hiding his identity. cuz it would be risky, it would be even more lying, etc. it’s perfectly understandable and sincerely it funny that out of all the horrible things Zuko did it’s often that one that people will point out. I know that canon divergent jetko au might use that angst potential with Zuko lying to Jet but in canon it’s really not that deep. if he doesn’t lie = he dies/or gets imprisoned at BEST. if he does lie, he gets a chance at surviving both the EK and the FN. and that’s basically it.

as much as it is a popular trope to make Zuko or Jet guilty in jetko fics, I really don’t like it because canon jetko and fanon jetko are really two different things. canon jetko isn’t about betrayal. it’s more about how two severely flawed and traumatised teenagers start to form somehow a friendship because of how similar they are, but the instance of war, trauma and the sick need of survival get between them and tore them apart before they start to remotely form a meaningful relationship.

like in canon these two boys owe each other NOTHING. and I mean it. no Jet doesn’t owe Zuko his trust and no Zuko doesn’t owe Jet his honesty. not in that specific context. and that’s something that a lot of people don’t get about these two in canon

people even fail to realise that Jet’s lack of trust and hostility towards even the slightest hint of firebending & zuko trying to survive, burying his honesty to do so, are wonderful parallels that could be exploited in fics. not necessarily the “you lied/you attacked me” but just the “I had no other choice, I’m sorry” which is so much more tragic.

I would add that this specific trope of “Zuko earning Jet’s forgiveness” when it one sided doesn’t work for me. it works for ships like maiko or zukka, and especially zutara, but not really jetko. at least not if it isn’t reciprocated. like both guys did horrible things but none of these “horrible things” were directed towards eachother.

what happened in BSS is ultimately tragic because both didn’t had another choice. both were clinging on the idea of surviving. both were terrified by what could happen to them. DO YOU SEE HOW TRAGIC THAT IS 😔

[lover-of-mine]

Lady Whistledown.... OK on the parenting front. We all need to step into Narnia for a moment and forget he ever did cameos. Everything we know simply exists in the 911 universe as Canon. So you must understand that in this universe (thanks to Lous head canons he was paid for) he lost his mother at a young age and his father was a bully he ran from. And also the bachelor party was a way of showing Tommy as the mature one and carefully crafted to show that Eddie and Buck are just like play mates.

Tommy because he lost said mother so young will be the one to identify with Christopher and coax the young boy home. And if Christopher runs again because Eddie does something terrible. Well, our savior, Tommy will be the one to think you know maybe he went to Shannon's grave stone. He shall arrive and talk to the boy again. Because see clearly Buck and Eddie do not have the emotional capacity to accomplish this.

Also yes secretly Eddie is probably a little mad and jealous of Buck. You see, he did not realize when Tommy was courting him it was actually and option he could say yes, and now Buck stole him. But never fear Tommy will confess to Buck he was like 50th choice and because Buck loves Eddie so much he accepts being Eddies second choice to keep his family..

And your question on them realizing? Yes, after the hospital kiss, we were supposed to get more friend time of Eddie and Tommy. Tommy and Chris. All four at dinner together bonding. We got literally 2 scenes! Also, yes, they desperately wanted that dinner scene to contain the word boyfriend or love confession, so they didn't have to worry all summer.

Also deeply disappointed that the Hen Karen and Tommy scene was cut because that is probably where Hen on screen declares for the GA stop being mad at Tommy. See, I'm black and queer and my beautiful smart wife even loves Tommy. When I said "finally " to Karen, it was about both Tommy and Buck!!! Duh!!!!

So hopefully, that explains the "Christopher had three dads" PR department.

But also, when they were really, really mad at us, because we were so evil smart we were able to hack Lous personal Twitter and set him up as a racist. Maybe they should find a way of making sure they unmask us like the Scooby Doo villains we are to Oliver. Then Oliver would understand how toxic we really are.

But stepping out of Narnia. My impression on the Eddie front is that it's turning desperate in ways to make Tommy more relevant than he actually is to the story because it's the only way to get him more screen time than Karen. We all know that's never happening. They can't stand he will only exist in scenes with Buck if back and not on the forefront of the firefam. A family he definitely isn't a part of.

Hey, baby 🩷🩷 laughter doesn't begin to cover the sounds I was making while reading this. I will say I did not keep up with his cameos so this is all news to me so I'm loving it. The level of delusion. I'm speechless. So Tommy is the mature one and Buck is just there. Eddie being above Buck in the poli version is hysterical. Boy can't get a single win, huh? So they were expecting the Hen seal of approval and a place in Eddie's life and they got... That. That's nice. I feel better for the chaos reading this, ngl, I see you and feel the urge to pop some popcorn.

I mean, Taylor got a dinner with Eddie and Chris, even I thought the dude was gonna get something after 706. But I agree with your assessment, everyone knows the only way a love interest is gonna have a fighting chance is if they exist outside of Buck. And Tommy has possible threads that the show deliberately didn't pick because, hello, hello, he is not part of the family. God, I'm BEGGING for the show to give us something that explicitly contradicts as many of Lou's cameos as possible. (Does anyone have a bullet points list of those, because I legit lost track and I'm curious)

I maintain what I said when the hacking drama was happening tho, as your local buddie shipper computer scientist, I speak for all of us that if we were going to hack something, it would be the abc servers to get the karaoke scene. And, also, being a bad person never made a love interest leave the show, why would anyone bother making him look bad?

I'm still giggling at the Tommy/Eddie of it all. Like, if Tommy wanted Eddie and Eddie wanted Tommy and Buck is just a means to an end, and Tommy is a better parent, then what's the purpose of Buck in their heads? Does he just look pretty and gets fucked? This is madness. MADNESS.

[forgeofthenine]

I got bit by another idea bug and I blame you for reblogging the “Single Dad Dammon” post. I see that and raise you “Tav and Dammon were together before the fall and got separated because Tav was away when the city fell”. (The Tav in the scenario that bit me is not a tiefling, mainly because mine isn’t but this narrative does also work with a tief Tav)

And then when they’re freed from the hells, he has no idea how to find you and you have no idea how to find him. But gods you try. You follow every scrap of a rumor once you’re done grieving and manage to pull yourself together when you can accept that yes, for now (only for now, it can only be for now, please gods don’t let this be life from now on) your husband and child are gone. You chase every thread of hope until there’s nothing left to give and then you move onto the next. The old adventuring instincts you buried when you put away your weapons and armor come screaming back to life from where they went dormant the second you found yourself caught by a pair of eyes like the sunrise over the horizon.

And then you get the word that the city is back and you immediately turn and start running home. But before you can make it there you here word about the city exiling all the tieflings and you can only force yourself to march on, listening for any word of where they may be headed while a white hot rage burns in your chest at the thought of your family going through yet more hardship.

You finally learn that the exiles are heading to Baulder’s Gate and you make your way there, beating the crowds and finding a place to live in the city. (You’ve amassed a small fortune in your recent travels, but it was already a struggle to force yourself just to survive and frivolities held no joy. The only exception was if some little bauble or trinket caught your eye that you thought either of them would enjoy.)

You spend days checking with those managing the influx of refugees, checking multiple times a day for if their names have come though with no results. Logically, in the part of your mind that has to know these things, not everyone who disappeared would have survived Avernus. Ever more have probably fallen on the journey to a new home. But you can’t think about that. They will make it, you will hold them again. You will. (You dont know what you’ll do if you can’t)

One day you overhear some of the newer arrivals talking about the troubles on the road with the goblins and the Absolute’s cult and this is a problem you can help with. You had no way to get to the hells and save your family, never mind rescue your entire city (because as much as you want to, as much as you would want to take your family and run, you would have to try) but goblins and cultists? These are mortal issues that can be solved by mortal means. So you once again put away your sensible clothes, you lock up your new home and task a neighbor with watching it while you’re away and head off, newly armed.

Your maybe a day or two from the city when you get snatched by the Nautiloid and now you have a whole new host of problems to deal with and as much as you wish you could abandon everything and keep searching, you’re no good to anyone dead or a mindflayer. And so you gather your new companions and march on.

Back at the Grove, Dammon is as settled as they can be when your hosts are already planning to chase them from the only safe refuge they’ve had in recent memory. The Archdruid who championed their stay is gone and Zevlor isn’t making any headway with Kagha. Now the goblins are literally at their door again and they’re just waiting until the druids push them into their arms when a ruckus at the gate swells and then suddenly ends. The sounds of battle outside fade to nothing and the gate is opened.

Those that left with Halsin rush in first, followed at a more sedate pace by your party. You have your talk with Zevlor and learn that this is another group of refugees from Elturel. It takes a moment for your heart to catch up with your mind after the conversation ends and suddenly you’re moving, scanning every face you pace, looking for those eyes. The sounds of the world fade away as your ears are full of nothing but a roaring. You pass the training area, your companions following you worriedly. One shouts your name as you head into the common area the tieflings are sharing and Dammon head snaps up at the sound. Your eyes track the movement as a result of years of habit and there he is.

Your reunion is slow, you’ve never been one for big showy emotions but that does nothing to stop the tears from beginning to pour from your eyes as you abruptly start forward towards him.

Dammon is frozen as you walk towards him. He slowly puts down his tools and takes off his apron, convinced that every move he makes will wipe away the mirage he’s sure you are. And yet you’re still there, still walking towards him. He can see the tears and he longs to wipe them away. Then you’re in front of him and you don’t know which one of you reaches for the other first but you hold each other so tight you know there’ll be bruises. It’s only when your child runs up to you and cries out for you that you separate for a moment and come back together again, the three of you bundled tightly with Dammon holding you both so securely that you wondered how you hadn’t fallen apart without him.

I can honestly see it going either way after that, either Dammon joins your camp (because like hell is he letting you run off without them so soon. And you may as well be together anyway, the last time he and your child stayed behind for safety the hells opened up and swallowed their city.)

Or you separate with plans to meet up in Baulder’s Gate once you’re safe again and then reuniting at the Last Light instead. He confess how guilty he feels for running with your child, how others might have been saved if he stayed but he couldn’t take that risk. You hold him while he shakes with his guilt and kiss his brow, his cheeks, his lips, whatever you can while you thank you for saving your child and himself. 🪻

I'm honestly so obsessed with this you won't even believe-

The idea of a short trip separating you from loved ones for weeks, not even knowing if they're alive or if you might see them again. That sweet relief of reuniting (and the palpable confusion of the rest of your group), the needing to figure out 'whats next?'

I'd honestly love a way for Tavs to have a previous connection to existing NPCs (other than durge and Orin/Gortash), even if just from a roleplaying perspective. I adore this though, I always love seeing what you send in flower anon <3