#fic coming later
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okay so there were a ton of posts/fics about the hilarious "fuck/maryy/kill" Bruce Wayne & Justice League scenario (I read them all, amazing comedic timing y'all) but to me, the most hilarious scenario is the JL play fuck/marry/kill, Bruce's name comes up, and half of the people in the room in the know immediately turn bright red and refuse to keep playing and no one will explain why.
Hal: "...and I would fuck Bruce Wayne. No, I would kill him. Nah, actually I'd fuck him, who am I kidding."
Clark: choking on his coffee and rapidly turning an alarming shade of red
Diana: "An....interesting choice, of course."
J'onn: "Shall we play a different game?"
Hal: "Wait, what? that was the game, wasn't it?"
Ollie: "I'm with Hal, I'd fuck the shit out of Bruce. He's the easiest guy I know, it's not like it'll exactly be a hardship for him."
*every single person in the room turns to Batman, standing in the corner*
Clark: "Wow! I think I just heard someone drop an ice cream cone in Guatemala. Batman, I'll need a team up."
Ollie: "For ice cream?"
Diana, standing up and putting herself in between Bruce and Hal: "This sounds dire. I will also assist."
Clark, under his breath, one hand on Bruce's back: "It's not worth it. He's not worth it. Come on. Walk it off."
#treadmill thoughts#bruce wayne#batman#dc#fic commentary#justice league#jl#and then like three years later#when he finally tells them#this moment comes back to hal jordan in technicolor
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A bit THANK YOU to everyone who's read, left a kudosed, commented, subscribed and bookmarked my biggest fic, The Twins, The Triangle And The Magic!
It's been an honour to write for you all, and I'm so excited for the times ahead! You have all inspired me just by coming along and reading, and for those who left extra things, I am eternally grateful, they've helped me through some rough patches.
I know it's being rewritten, and we've only gotten to the third book, but the next chapter of our exciting adventures has just begun!
I started this fic off without a plan at all, and I want to thank everyone who's helped build this timeline with me, with or without realising.
A massive thank you to @emperorofthebananaboat to helping me significantly with, especially with the "what if?" Scenarios via the discord server and the books comments, you've helped to impact the stories more than one way.
I made a oneshot to commemorate the moment but unfortunately I have work to attend to today and don't have access to the draft I've written.
I'll post it the moment I get back home! It's a nice little look into the future of the fic itself.
Thank you again, and have a wonderful day/night everyone!
- Harper
#harper talks for no reason#writing#thank you all SO MUCH!!!#fic coming later#its Billdip#genuinely means the world to me#the twins the triangle and the magic#t4atm
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aHhh okay so the discussions of Titan!Megatron on @callsign-relic's blog have fully. FULLY taken over my brain and ive been drawing stuff for it for like the last few days nonstop
the tl;dr of this is AU is pretty much "what if Megatron got turned into a titan/cityformer as a form of penance/imprisonment and now roams the empty wasteland of Cybertron forever" plus "IDW Megatron has really fucked up internals so... what if that, but as a City?"
and of course since he's a Titan, that also means he has a cityspeaker... or three. One per sub-AU thing. Theres 3 options. 3 flavours of AU.
i have so much art to make. but in the meantime, for more info! check out the #titan au tag on Relic's blog :]!! (also uhh potential ns//fw warning for the link shfjbdkd)
Hi. My battery is running out once again so design and art notes get chucked here instead of an image.
The cuffs and collar are hardwired into Megatron, so I made the lights the same colour as his biolights!
I imagine that on the tops of his shoulders there are solar panels, even if you can't see them here lol.
I really wanted to keep the swirly bits on Megatron's chest from IDW
Other art notes:
The second picture with the seekers is (loosely) inspired by a discussion about whether or not Megatron gets visitors or not. I thought about who would visit him and well... I think this is as close as Starscream realistically gets to visiting him.
Extra detail about that piece is that Thundercracker and Skywarp are keeping watch from above! Also drawing Megatron took me like 8 hours because I was struggling with his legs really badly kshffkbfkdsbdk,, the background went much faster, funnily enough.
Optimus specifically isn't wearing his Autobot badge any more.
This isn't relevant in this series of images, but Ultra Magnus's eye markings are only on the Magnus armour. His other two forms do not have them :] (... until he begins to discard the armour, that is.)
Megatron is roughly 3200m/2 miles tall. Technically he could have clouds around his knees, but I thought this looked a little bit cooler lol.
Also, height chart! Him big. I didn't even attempt to put a human for scale because that'd be. near impossible with this scale.
#velwy.png#my art#titan au#maccaddam#megatron#transformers#transformers au#minimus ambus#ultra magnus#rodimus#optimus prime#this has involved so much fucking googling.#also learning how to draw Literally All these characters#anyway. i have more Really Clear images in my head so more stuff coming later#i have a short one page comic but uh. i dont know where to put it here so ill add it to a buncha doodles i have planned#in another post 👍#later.#im doing a spectacularly bad job of being on anon. fbfkbgkenfkdnfk#i keep oscillating between 'i should just write this' and 'i gotta draw this' so. im doing both essentially.#if i ever finish the fic/s ill post it but until then this au continues to haunt my every waking moment
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FUNNIEST fucking shit that comes with making Danny eleven years old when he had his accident in "late at night, when the nightingale sings" is the implication following, that everything that happened in the show did too. And I fully intend on (mostly) keeping it like that. There'll be some changes (of which I need to figure out) but for the most part??? Yeah relatively the same.
Like I FULLY intend on keeping Dark Danny occurring 6 months post accident. Do you know how fucking HILARIOUS that is??? That Dan got his ass kicked by a goddamn FIFTH-SIXTH GRADER?? I'd never show my face ever again. Homeboy spent the last ten years being a one-man mass extinction event, only to get his ass beat by a kid who hasn't even lost his last baby tooth. That's hysterical. I'm losing my mind just thinking about it.
AND PARIAH DARK TOO. Imagine being an eons old tyrant capable of dragging whole towns down into your dimension, and you get singehandedly shoved back into your coffin in less than 48 hours by a kid whose bedtime is still 8:30. You didn't even have the time to expand your army! You were still trying to take over the city the kid came from!
And he just!!! Shoves you back in!! Insane! This kid hasn't even been dead for a full year yet! He's still growing in his ghost fangs! And he just knocked you flat on your ass in an oversized mech suit. What the fuck! It's like looking down and seeing a four week old kitten meowing very indignantly at you and trying to bite your feet, except that kitten is also actually a black-footed cat and they have a 60% kill success rate, and oops! Now you're dead. You took too long laughing at the kitten trying to attack you that it clawed up your pant leg and ripped out your throat.
COULD I, realistically, span these episodes out over the course of 2.5 years prior to Danny's family dying?? Yes I could! Do I think it's hilarious (and horribly traumatizing, which makes it twice as fun) to shove all of this into the span of (roughly) a year instead?? Yes. Because the show has such a skewed timeline that I've always just assumed that at the end of the show, Danny was starting his sophomore year in high school. So fuck it, lets go for it!
#dpxdc#danny fenton is not the ghost king#dp x dc#dpxdc crossover#dp x dc crossover#blood blossom au#my fic#danny fenton#danny phantom#if i REALLY want to get into it i'll have to look at the show's episode synopsis and pick and choose which episodes happen when in the year#maybe pull a scarlet lady and have some of the season 1 episodes happen further down the line instead. but i can do that later. for now#come laugh with me at the mental image of teeny 11 year old danny curbstomping ghosts twice is size and thrice his weight.#bruce is watching old footage from the phantom fights in amity and going 'HNN' in increasing concern. he's got his hands folded and his#chin in his hands and he's going (ಠ_ಠ) with his face and he has SO many questions and concerns. for many. many different reasons#first of all he's incredibly upset that danny had to go through this at all in the first place. like no kid should've gone thru this alone#but he. is also. very very softly. going *'what the fuck...'*
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the lost brother - damian
There is static in his ears.
There is a baby in his arms.
His niece. His niece from a brother dead before he was born. The daughter of Danyal, his mother's greatest regret, the ghost haunting his childhood, the brother he never got to have.
She is so small in his arms. Still. Quiet.
It frightens him, cradling such a fragile life in his arms. He's not good with most people, let alone a baby.
Danyal must have been truly desperate to leave her with him.
"Robin."
The voice makes the world come rushing back into place. Damian moves before he thinks, turning his body to shield his niece from danger, but it's only Red Robin standing before him. He stares, wide eyed, until Red Robin pushes his cowl back and Drake stands before him, expression carefully neutral. He doesn't look at the baby in Damian's arms. He only looks at Damian.
"Robin, come on. The Batmobile is right below us."
Damian hesitates, then follows Drake to the edge of the roof. He takes the fire escape down, landing carefully so he doesn't jostle the baby in his arms, and Drake grapples down a moment later, carefully maintaining the distance between them.
He knows it's to keep Damian from feeling trapped, and he's stupidly grateful, though he'll never say so.
The rest of the family will be a pain to deal with. They will demand answers he doesn't have, invade his space, insist on taking his niece from him. At least Drake is quiet and willing to observe without interference beyond getting them all home.
As promised, the Batmobile waits for them in the alley. Drake holds the door open and Damian slides in, adjusting his niece to make sure she's comfortable. She blinks up at him with dark blue eyes.
How strange. He had expected them to be green.
Drake drives them, speaking in short bursts into his comm. Damian brings a hand up to his own, realising rather belatedly that it's muted. Oracle must have grown annoyed at the barage of questions heading his way and silenced them for him.
He'll have to thank her later, once things have settled down.
For now, all his attention is on his little baby niece. What did Danyal say her name was?
Ellie.
Ellie Ellie Ellie.
She reaches up with a small hand, curious, and Damian offers a finger for her to latch on to. Her grip isn't strong, and her hand is small and barely warm.
He holds her closer for the rest of the ride home.
Father wants to take Ellie away for tests. Damian refuses to let go of her, going as far as leveling a sword at anyone who tries.
Drake is the only one who offers to only draw the barest minimum amount of blood for a DNA test, all while Damian holds her.
This, he accepts.
The others hover in his periphery, muttering amongst themselves, but Damian cares little for their thoughts and judgements. He was given Ellie for the sole purpose of caring for her. He will not fail in his duty. If it comes to it that he has to hide away with Mother for the rest of them to calm down, then he will. Surely she'll want to be involved with her granddaughter.
He'll have to tell her about Danyal, anyways.
Father stays at the computer, watching as the results load. He does not look away from the screen to even greet Ellie.
Damian pushes down his bitterness. He knows well the kind of man Father is, now. This is expected of him.
It's Richard that stays by him, hurrying across the Cave with an armful of diapers and baby clothes.
"I wasn't sure what to get, so I got a bit of everything," he explains, setting everything down on the cot where Damian sits with Ellie. Richard cut his patrol short as soon as Danyal left and made an emergency run to the nearest store with baby supplies, pulling sweatpants and a jacket over his Nightwing suit. The collar of the suit peeks out from beneath his jacket, and Damian is sure that it's only the late hour that kept anyone from asking too many questions while Richard was shopping.
"Thank you," Damian mutters. He sets Ellie down carefully, and she blinks up at him with tired eyes. Her face is round with baby fat, but not by much. "How do I…?"
"I think I know how to change a diaper," Richard offers, already pulling a fresh one out of the pack. He gets a small pack of baby wipes out of his pocket and quickly undoes the diaper on Ellie, wiping her down. Damian watches carefully, committing each step to memory as Richard changes her diaper and makes sure she's comfortable.
They're all out of their depths, Damian realizes. Have any of them actually cared for a baby? Pennyworth might have had some idea, and though he died a few years ago, the loss of him aches sharply even now.
"We'll have to figure out how old she is before we get any food for her," Richard murmurs, reaching out to brush a finger against her cheek. His eyes are soft, sad, and Damian lets out a slow breath, relived to know he can trust Richard with Ellie. "What happened?"
It's the question everyone's been asking him, and Damian has refused to answer each time.
But he will answer Richard.
"I saw a person on the edge of the roof as I patrolled. I went down to bring them to safety. He was… I had an older brother who died before I was born. But I know what he looks like. It was him, on that roof."
"You think he came back to life?"
"He must have. He was placed in a Lazarus Pit, but Mother said it didn't bring him back. Perhaps it just took time."
"What made you think it was him, if you've never met him?"
Damian thinks back. The man on the roof was a few years older than Drake, thin and worn-down. His eyes caught Damian's attention first; al Ghul's have very distinctive eyes, and it seems they both inherited that trait from Mother. Beyond that…
Lazarus Pits have magic in them. They wouldn't be able to do what they did without it. Those revived by Lazarus Pits carry some of it with them; it's not Pit Rage, which fades within an hour, but something else that leaves them on the boundary of inhuman. Damian grew up around the Pits and people who used them. He knows what the magic of the Pits feels like, and he could feel it in Danyal.
"I just knew," Damian answers. "Should Mother ever meet him, she'll be able to tell you the same thing: that was Danyal. And this is his daughter."
"Do you know why he left his daughter with you?"
"He asked if Batman was a good father. If I was safe here. Only then did he give Ellie to me."
"He could have stayed to," Richard says, sadness coloring his tone.
Damian doesn't respond. What could he say? Yes, Danyal could have stayed and joined them. He chose not to, for whatever reason. They have not found him yet, and Damian doubts they will find him any time soon.
Danyal is the first son of Talia al Ghul and Bruce Wayne. He will not be found until he wants to be.
Damian will have to wait until then.
The DNA results come back after eight rounds of testing.
Ellie is indeed Damian's niece.
The closest matches to her in the database are Damian and Bruce, which all but confirms that Danyal is indeed the first blood son of the Bat.
Father stares down at Ellie with an unreadable look on his face. He doesn't try to hold her; Damian doesn't know if he should be grateful for this or not.
"I have another son," he says. "And neither you nor your mother ever told me."
"He was dead," Damian answers, "What use would a dead child be to you? Even I never met him until tonight. He was gone long before I was born."
"He's still my son!"
"He's a stranger," Damian bites back. "Why do you pretend to care now? He has never been a part of our lives before. You won't even hold his daughter."
Father flinches back, just slightly, but it's enough to know that the barb hit. Damian gathers Ellie up into his arms and heads for the stairs. "I will be going to sleep now. Ellie will stay with me. You are welcome to stay down here to search for Danyal, or you can get some rest to join me in shopping for Ellie. I will call Mother. Good night."
The others don't have the decency to wait until he's completely out of the Cave before they begin shouting amongst themselves. Damian clicks his tongue and looks down at Ellie, who's sleeping peacefully.
"Let's hope you grow up to have more sense than them," he says to her.
He lays her on top of the blankets, then curls up next to her. It's a long time before he's able to fall asleep.
Mother calls first thing in the morning. Damian's barely had time to brush his teeth before his phone is ringing, and he has to rush to catch it before the call ends.
"Is it true?" she demands as soon as he answers, "Was it Danyal?"
Damian bites back a curse. He said he'd call her. It would have been best if he had been the one to break the news, rather than anyone else, but it doesn't surprise him that no one listened.
"It's true," he says. "Danyal was in Gotham last night. He left his daughter in my care before disappearing. I was unable to speak to him more."
"How can that be," she says, breathless, "It's been decades since his death. The Lazarus Pit never returned him to me."
"It was him. That's all I know."
There's a pause as his mother gathers her composure. Then she says, "I will be in Gotham in a week. I will not be kept out of my granddaughter's life."
"I will make sure we have a room ready for you."
"Good. Take care, habibi."
The call ends without any other fanfare. Damian drops his head with a sigh and tosses his phone back onto his desk.
On his bed, Ellie is sitting up, watching him curiously.
"You and your father have caused a lot of trouble already," he tells her, and she claps her hands together.
When he goes downstairs, he immediately makes note of Drake and Brown's presence with displeasure. His hopes for a quiet morning are dashed before he even reached the kitchen.
"There you are!" Brown says far too loudly. She bounds up to him, ignoring his scowl, and peers at Ellie. "Hm, I'd guess around nine to eleven months, accounting for FTT and some malnutrition."
"FTT?" he repeats.
"Failure to thrive. If infants aren't care for properly, which includes cuddling, then they just… don't grow as they should. They end up smaller and weaker than is expected for their age."
"I imagine she was not taken care of properly, wherever she was before. She wouldn't have been left with me otherwise."
Brown looks troubled, but she blinks it away and smiles when Ellie reaches up to grab at her nose. "Hello there," she says in a soft voice, "I'm your favorite aunt. Don't forget that, alright! I'm your favorite."
Damian pushes her away. "She has no favorites."
"Not yet, but it'll definitely be me when she does!"
"Don't you have anything better to do than bother me?"
"No. But, in all seriousness, me and Tim are here to help. He gave me a rundown and what happened and I still have a bunch of stuff from my pregnancy classes that can help you. We also got some baby food and milk and formula for the baby, since she'll need to eat and be burped. I can walk you through all of that so you can start getting some experience in baby care."
Ah. He had forgotten that Brown had once been pregnant. That she gave away her own baby.
It must be hard for her to be on the other end of that situation, to watch someone take in a baby whose parent couldn't properly care for her, to muster up a smile and all the information she has to make things better.
"I would… appreciate that, Brown."
"Good! Well, lesson one starts now."
She throws open the door to the kitchen, where Drake is pressing the tip of a feeding bottle against the inside of his wrist. "Come here," he says to Damian. "Hold out a hand."
Curious, Damian does as told, and watches as Drake pressed the warm tip of the bottle against his wrist, where liquid splots out onto his skin. "That's about how warm it should be when you feed her. Here." He presses the bottle into Damian's hands, and it takes some adjustment before he can feed Ellie, who starts off slowly, then with more energy.
Brown tosses a rag over his shoulder, and instructs him on how to burp Ellie once she's finished eating. She coughs up some formula, then settles back into his arms, eyes closing as she begins to doze.
"I'll handle shopping," Drake says. "You need a crib, right? Maybe some toys… Just text me a list, I'll get everything."
"Why are you doing all this?" Damian can't help but ask. "We are not exactly… close."
Drake blinks at him, as though he's confused. "Because a baby is a big responsibility. And just because we don't always get along doesn't mean we're not family. She's my neice too. Doesn't she deserve to have more people in her corner?"
Damian can't argue with that, so he nods and lets Drake go to buy whatever he thinks is necessary. Brown lingers in the kitchen, making breakfast for them both in between sneaking glances at Ellie. Usually being watched so obviously would have him on edge and snappy, but he understands the urge to keep looking; he also can't take his eyes off of Ellie.
For someone so small to go through such hardship already… he doesn't understand how anyone can look at her and not want to keep her safe.
He wonders if anyone is keeping Danyal safe.
As much as he wants to go after Danyal, search for his resurrected brother, Ellie takes priority.
She's the one who's here to stay, after all.
Father doesn't come up from the Batcave all day.
Damian tries not to hate him for it.
He doesn't think he succeeds.
(masterpost for all parts)
#dcxdp#dpxdc#dc x dp#dp x dc#demon brothers#the harmless series#dcxdp fic#my writing#now comes complicated family!!!! hehehehe#yes alfred is dead. this takes place a few years after his death. so damian's around 15 and danny's about 24#this will be explained more later. just know he was in that lab for a very long time.
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"Ghosting Along" by TourettesDog
Paxopalotls's super awesome arts:
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
My arts:
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
Yippee it's Invisobang time! 🎉Here's my first piece for this event 😈
I had the sweetest and most awesome writer and artist @tourettesdog and @paxopalotls as my partners!! Go check out their work! (doitdoitdoit) 💖💖💖
#hehehe i like drawing interiors :3#keep an eye out for the fic later today >:0 ✨✨✨#get ready for more dp art in the coming days hehehehehe 😈✨#invisobang#invisobang 2024#danny phantom big bang#danny phantom#danny fenton#wheat art
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Really I think nothing shouts "my first Presidential election as a politically active person was 2016" more than the fact that when I feel hope and excitement for the future (possible President Harris) for more than five minutes I immediately get a crushing, all-consuming anxiety of "feeling this positive emotion now is going to make it so much worse when the worst thing possible happens" to the extent that I'll probably need my break-glass-in-case-of-emergency anxiety medication.
#politics#us politics#kamala harris#donald trump#2016 election#2024 elections#personal post#I can't feel any hope about politics without my brain reflexively shutting it down in case things get too nice before the fall#I know Harris has flaws#But I just like her--she's more progressive and feels joy and isn't shy about hating Trump#But then my brain is like “do not get attached or The Pain will be worse later”#This happened in 2020 too---I couldn't believe it when we won I was so busy preparing for the worst#harris for president#democrats#vote democrat#seriously vote democrat#If you are following me or reading my fic and capable of voting in the US election and are not voting Democrat please feel free to fuck off#You're the reason Trump won in 2016 and if you prove my anxiety brain right I hope all your food comes out burnt for the rest of your life#good thing I have therapy tomorrow
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hello! i've written a short little machete fic, and i wanted to share it with you as thanks for all the incredible art and generous question-answering you've been doing these last few months. i hope that if you give it a look, you enjoy it. <3 keep up all your amazing work! archiveofourown [.] org / works / 50945128
✦ A Voi ✦
#wake up honey new fic dropped#feeling blessed#eating this out of your hands like a baby deer#it's so good you guys treat my lads so well#and write so beautifully and vividly and eloquently#I rambled about this in length in the fic's comment section so I won't repeat myself too much here#but in this one Machete has a little breakdown and gets lovingly bathed like the sad and stunned dog he is#really captured his neuroticism and endless uneasiness#excellent Vittorio content augh I adore him#I'll definitely come back to this later and draw proper actual fanart because some of the scenes are so thematically and visually strong#I need to be able to see them with my actual eyes#dangit I forgot the cut on his lip#had a minor crisis over the color of Machete's robe but maybe it'd be white like the rest of his sleepwear#as a contrast to the usual blacks and reds#fic A Voi#doomcountry#own art#own characters#Machete#CanisAlbus#blood#I said this before and I say it again#if you read the thing and like it it would be very kind and appreciated if you left a small comment to doomcountry as a thank you#you don't need an ao3 account and you can do it anonymously
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house and wilson seeing each other for the first time in months in s08e02
#house md#hilson#gregory house#james wilson#gilles gifs#housemdedit#houseedit#housemdgifs#anyway#i need to chew on meta for this episode for a bit#but this scene just.......#the way house his eyes are immediately on wilson#and wilson looks so guilty and pained#but not JUST that#it's like he's trying to hide it but the emotions are just too big#making particularly his eyes just overflow with a wild cocktail of emotions#(which is why him looking away kills me)#i really need to think about this further because i really want to write a fic filling in the gap between s7 and s8#ALSO the way house deals with it#he's so aware of the discomfort#also between him & wilson#and knowing that his one fear is wilson hating him..... he must have been anxious too in this first meeting#immediately checking up on wilson's body language#urhghghhr#i will probably come back to this episode later when i have more energy
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birthday boy | hsh
pairing: idol boyfriend!seunghan x fem!reader
word count: 3.3k
author's note: idk if any of you know it, but Seunghan is actually my first bias in riize. since his hiatus, i miss him so much and each day that passes without his presence in the group, i want him to come back even more. i know there's a bunch of ot6 briizes and i honestly don't really care who everyone chooses to stan. we're all different and have different tastes and likings, i get it. but i'm still holding out hope for him to comeback and that feeling won't die down untill i see his beautiful smile while he's on a stage along with his members again. this work is to showcase my love for him, nothing else. and also for all the ot7 briizes and hongjjangus that miss him just as much as me. i hope you like it, babes 🐈⬛🫧🧡
contents: established relationship, aged up!seunghan. mentions of riize members. set in the future, on seunghan's 25th birthday. he is active in the group and riize has been in the scene for a few years. smut and fluff. seunghan wants to have his cake and eat it too, lol. fingering, sex in the shower. sex without protection, cumming inside (don't be like them).
you can also read this work on my ao3, if you’d like
Seunghan is needy and dramatic towards you on a daily basis. But on his birthday, it always gets worse.
He ends every request with a “Please? It’s my birthday”, pulls you to sit on his lap every chance he gets and asks for smooches and attention each half an hour that passes by. It’s adorable and charming, and you always find yourself a willing victim to his whims, kissing and hugging him whenever he desires.
However, in times like this, when you’re rushing to get everything done for the small dinner party you’re hosting for his 25th birthday, it does annoy you a little bit. You’re already preoccupied about failing this day for him because the cake wasn’t yet delivered by the bakery and you only remembered to put the wine inside the freezer twenty minutes ago. At least, there’s still forty minutes left until the time you set for his members to show up and you hope that the wine is cold by then and the cake is inside your fridge.
You’re thinking about all of this while you’re finishing setting the fancy cutlery on the table. Seunghan should be checking on the lasagna inside the oven, but instead he catches you midway through your task, rubbing his chest on your back and his hands on your hips as he starts to place kisses on the side of your neck.
“Babe, the lasagna,” you warn.
“I just checked it. It’s still cooking,” he whispers over the wetness his spit gathered on your skin, making you shiver. He runs his nose from the side of your throat to your ear. “You smell so freaking good.”
“No, I don’t,” you say, closing your eyes, letting your body sag a little against his and reaching a hand back to his neck, keeping his face still on your neck while he resumes peppering kisses on your skin. “I still haven’t showered.”
“You always smell good for me, baby,” he says before nipping your earlobe. You can’t help but sigh from the attention he’s giving you. “And I can help you shower.”
His obvious naughty intentions make you open your eyes and spin around, your hands going to his chest to push him slightly away from you.
“No way,” you shake your head. “I know you’ll be distracting me and not helping at all. Plus, you’re already ready and someone needs to answer the delivery truck when they bring the cake.”
Seunghan gives you his best puppy look and steps closer to you again, his hands going around you to encircle your waist. “Baby, please,” he whines. “We spent the whole day organizing this place. I haven’t been able to fuck you yet and it’s my birthday.”
You chuckle and look up at him, resting your chin on his chest and squeezing his cheeks. “Well, you should’ve thought about that before hosting a dinner party at our place, birthday boy.”
He whines again, pressing his forehead on yours whilst his agile fingers start bunching up the skirt of your old saggy dress, one hand pressing on the underside of your left thigh as if he’s preparing to lift you over the table. “I could just slide right in like this. I promise I’ll be quick.”
“No, Seunghan,” you say, voice firm and serious. He gives you a defeated look and steps back, his hands dropping to his sides. “I’m sorry, baby. But we’re already late as it is. We can do all the shenanigans you want later, okay?”
You get on your tiptoes and press your hands on his shoulders to drop a quick peck to his lips, but Seunghan holds you there, his fingers closing on the back of your neck to turn the kiss into a heated one. You wrap your hands around his neck to give him a little taste of what he’s been craving, letting him kiss you the way he wants, his tongue licking up every crevice of your mouth. When he pulls back, you have to blink your eyes open to wake up your hazy mind.
“Okay,” he whispers, a sly smile playing on the corner of his lips as he watches the reaction only one really good kiss pulled out of you. “Go get ready.”
You gulp and nod your head. “Finish setting the table up for me, please? And don’t forget about the lasagna, too. Oh, and–”
“And the cake should be delivered any minute,” he completes for you. “I know, baby, I know. Now go get yourself prettier for my day.”
You nod again, giving him one last peck on his lips and finally turning around. Seunghan takes the moment to pat your butt lightly and you laugh back at him while you walk to your bedroom. After getting to the en suite bathroom, you turn the water to the temperature you like and hastily slip out of your clothes. You sigh when you step into the shower and the warm water hits your head and shoulders, massaging the knots on the back of your neck.
After you shampoo your hair and begin to cover yourself in soap, you hear the door to the bathroom open up and spin around to see Seunghan a few meters away from the glass enclosure separating you both, his fingers quickly removing his denim jacket and tugging his black t-shirt up.
“Seunghan, no!” You exclaim, watching him slide the shirt out of his body and dropping it on the floor along with your clothes. “I told you, I–”
“Babe, I already turned off the oven and put the lasagna to rest on the counter. I also texted the guys saying they should come an hour later,” he explains, moving his hands to his belt buckle to unfasten it and then zipping down the fly on his pants. “Wonbin hyung agreed to pick up the cake. Already let the bakery know it, too.”
You open your mouth at him in shock and your pink sponge falls from your hand onto the shower tiles. “No, you didn’t.”
“Oh, but I did.” Seunghan laughs at you and resumes taking his jeans off, his briefs going sliding down his legs along with it. He steps out of the fabric and his semi-hard cock springs free, the head of it slapping along his thigh. You bite your bottom lip whilst he slides the shower door open just enough for you to see him in all his glory, perfect body exposed bare right in front of your eyes. “So what it’s gonna be, baby? Are we going to fuck or do you prefer to keep pretending you don’t want this as much as I do?”
“Come in,” you say through gritted teeth and he laughs again, stepping inside and sliding the glass door back on its place. You wind your arms around his shoulders and press yourself against him. “You’re a pain in my ass, Hong Seunghan. You know that, right?”
“Yeah, and you love me,” he mutters while he holds you, splaying both of his hands on your ass.
“Unfortunately, I do,” you whisper back, pulling him in for a kiss.
Seunghan’s lips have always been addictive to you. You love how full and beautiful they are, how his smiles come easily when he quirks the sides of them up just a bit and especially how soft and moist they become while he’s kissing you. You always get lost in the feeling, biting on his bottom lip and drawing pretty sounds out of him. You’re so lost in him at this moment that you don’t even notice how his hands snake down your body, gripping on your flesh until his fingers find the place in between your legs.
He spreads you open with his fingers and you moan, your lips disconnecting with his. He laughs darkly as his forefinger rubs on your clit and you hold onto his shoulders for stability.
“You tried to deny me like that but yet you get this wet from just a few kisses?” He says while he watches your face contorting in pleasure.
“I was trying to be responsible,” you reply, trying to keep your moaning to a minimum while it’s still so early in the game. “Instead of you, who only thinks with your dick.”
Seunghan smiles, fingers massaging over your hole and trying to coax louder moans out of you. “That’s just your effect on me, sweetheart. I can’t help it.”
“I don’t know about that. Maybe you’re just a horndo–” You get cut off because of course Seunghan chooses that exact moment to insert two of his fingers inside of you, making the words on your lips turn into a groan and your head loll back.
“What were you saying, baby?” He asks slyly over your exposed neck, pumping his fingers in and out of you with precision. How can he be so fucking good at this?
You gulp down the saliva that collects in your throat and scrunch your eyes while you bask in the feeling of him pleasuring you. “Nothing.”
“That’s what I thought,” he replies with a smile, moving you to press your back against the bathroom wall and reaching down to wrap a hand around one of your thighs, hooking it up around his waist. You press the arch of your foot on his ass to pull him closer to you and soon enough his dick is pressed in between your bodies and he’s rutting on your lower belly. “That’s it, such a good girl for me.”
You move your hand down to cover his pretty cock, pumping him in your fist the best you can while Seunghan distracts you by scissoring his fingers inside your cunt. You try to look down to see what you’re doing, but Seunghan’s head eclipses your visions when he starts dropping kisses on the valley of your breasts. His lips move to one of your perk nipples and you moan out loud when he sucks it into his mouth, flicking the bud with his tongue. Your pace falters on his length and he pulls your hand away from it to intertwine your fingers together, resting them on the coldness of the bathroom tiles beside your head.
“Hani, it’s your birthday,” you say, and he looks up at you with your boob still inside his mouth. “I should be the one pleasuring you.”
He releases your nipple with a pop, then sinks his teeth on the flesh of your other breast. “But you are pleasuring me, baby. Doing whatever I want with you is all I need.”
You sigh when he licks over your neglected nipple, his tongue tracing around the areola over and over again until he gets tired of it and suctions on that one, too. He keeps the unrelenting pace of his fingers inside of you and moves his thumb up your clit again to rub on it.
“But I want to do more for you,” you whisper, starting to thrust your hips up against his hand. Your head already feels dizzy and your vision starts to get hazy with how much he’s overwhelming your senses. You feel that any moment now you might snap.
Seunghan releases his nipple from your mouth t at the same moment the revolutions down your clit get faster, and you can’t stop your moans from echoing around the restroom anymore while he kisses his way up to your lips again.
“Then you can suck me off after dinner, okay?” He mutters, his natural foxy eyes glinting at you and his mouth drinking up your sounds. “You’re close, right?”
“So close, Hani,” you cry out, gripping his hand tightly on yours and tugging on his hair with your other one.
He smiles at you and presses his lips to yours two times. Then, he mutters, “Cum for me now, pretty girl.”
It’s ridiculous that that’s all it takes to get you there. But either way, your orgasm washes over you, the tingling forming in your belly spreading through your limbs and head while your walls convulse around Seunghan’s fingers. He still keeps his work in your pussy while you scream and drop your lips to bite on his neck to give you something to do.
“That’s it, my love. You look so pretty when you fall apart. I want to watch this for the rest of my life,” he whispers in your ear while you sink your teeth on his flesh.
Once there’s no energy left in your body and you’re babbling incoherently on his skin, he slides his hand up to lift your chin and press your head back on the wall. His fingers wipe the drool from the corner of your mouth and you smell your juices on them, your tongue instinctively darting out to lick at them.
“Shit, baby, you got me so hard already,” he heaves while you suck his digits into your mouth, limp hand searching for his cock again. “There’s no need for that.”
You only release his fingers from your mouth after pressing little kisses on the tips of each one, then you smile at him and wrap your hand around his dick, slapping it against your folds to share your wetness and his precum with each other. “You’re going to fuck me now, birthday boy?”
“Are you up for it already?” He asks, trying to convey worry through his little groans and expletives. “I don’t wanna do too much too soon.”
“I don’t care, you can overstimulate me all you want,” you reply back, hitting his dick on your clit to show him that you’re serious. “I just need your dick inside me, Hani.”
“Fuck yeah,” he groans at both your words and how you guide his dick to your entrance, your cunt sucking his fat head inside. “I’ll fuck you dumb, baby.”
“Be my guest,” you moan back, feeling him slide all the way in one go and bottoming out, your walls stretching to accommodate his heavy girth inside.
Seunghan slides out and inside of you slowly only three times. Then he sets a merciless rhythm, hitting you with smooth, fast and hard thrusts. You wrap your other leg around him and he holds you up with his strong legs and arms, hands grasping your back and ass cheeks. You tug on his hair, kiss his cheeks, nip on his lips and suck on his neck and chest while he keeps fucking you through it all. The wet sounds of his dick fleetly moving in and out of your cunt and your skin slapping together bounce around the walls, becoming the back tracking for the harmony of moans you voice out together.
He doesn’t falter for a minute, not even when you reach down to squeeze his balls. Instead of easing down his flow, he spreads one of your legs apart, securing it to the wall behind you while he scrunches his nose and gazes down to watch how your cunt clutches to his cock every time he pulls back and your hand fondles his testicles.
Seunghan is giving you his everything. Hoisting you up, holding you together, pining you to the wall and fucking you deliciously. Ruining you. His arms bulge and his legs flex while he does it and you can see sweat forming on his forehead. The water still falling from the shower hits his shoulder blades and splash warm droplets on your skins and the shower doors, like it’s painting freckles on the scene, covering you both in the marks of your lovemaking.
You think he never looked as beautiful as he does right now.
“Seunghan,” you call for him and he looks at you with lust and love swimming inside his eyes. You run a hand over the fringe that falls on his forehead, slicking it back and then rubbing your fingers on his cheek bone. Handsome as hell. You can’t quite believe this man is all yours. “I’m close. I want you to cum inside, okay?”
He nods fervently and presses kisses on your hand that’s still on his face. “Yeah, baby, you got it,” he says, his voice faltering slightly.
Just then he slows down the drive of his hips, moving his legs and balancing himself again in between your thighs until he finds the new angle he’s searching for. Your breath hitches when it seems like he slides even deeper inside your pussy. The head of his cock starts to hit that amazing spongy spot inside you and he smiles victoriously when you’re reduced to a blubbering mess. When his thumb rubs on your clit, joining his dick in his effort to make you mad, you’re done for.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you moan out, squeezing your eyes shut. Your legs tremble and you try to hold it together, but your peak is coming at you faster and faster. “Baby, I think I’m gonna– I’m cum–”
You’re interrupted by Seunghan’s lips crashing on yours and his tongue being shoved inside your mouth. Your orgasm rips through your body like an out-of-control train flying off its tracks. It’s brisk and powerful, leaving your heart racing and your breath short, your mouth hanging open while you moan your boyfriend’s name until your voice feels raw.
“That’s it, baby. That’s a good girl, cumming all over my cock,” Seunghan says, his eyes locking on yours when your jaw clenches. “I’m right behind you, baby. Going to give you my cum now.”
“I want it, Hani, please do it,” you request with a hoarse voice, fighting your words out through the soreness in your throat.
“Oh, shit,” he groans, his hips jerking and stuttering, his cock swelling up and twitching inside you. “Yeah, fucking take it, baby.”
He spills inside your cunt and you moan deeply one more time before he slumps against you, his forehead pressing on your shoulder while your pussy milks him dry. He’s still holding you up, but the hand that was pining your thigh to the wall is now limp, and you move your leg back to wrap around him, tightening your hold of him to keep him inside you as long as possible.
Seunghan moans some more in your ear and you press reassuring kisses on the moles over his shoulders while you both calm down and catch your breaths. When you feel his gasps mellowing out, you press your fingers on his nape and pull his head back to look into his eyes.
“Hi,” you whisper and he gives you the sweetest smile ever, the lines around his eyes cracking and his whisker dimples appearing on his cheeks. “Happy birthday, Hani.”
He hums happily and rests his forehead on yours, dropping five consecutive pecks on your mouth. “Thank you, baby. I love you.”
“I love you, too,” you say, pressing your lips on his to give him a full kiss. He responds eagerly, tongue stroking yours and hands sliding to the back of your thighs to kee you up.
You feel his dick stirring inside you again when he pulls back and says, “You think we can go for round two before the guys show up?”
You laugh incredulously at him and unwrap your legs from his body, pushing on his shoulders until he pulls out of you. He whimpers pathetically at the loss of contact and you lift a finger to shut him up.
“Don’t you start, Hong Seunghan,” you admonish him.
He just pouts and catches your finger with his hand, puts it inside of his mouth and starts to suck on it, looking at you wickedly as he does so, all that while his cum starts to seep out of you. Your breath hitches at the scene and because his remnants now sticking to your thighs. But you keep your cool, withdrawing your finger from between his lips until it’s out with a pop. You give his chest a slap and then turn, moving to stand under the shower head to clean yourself.
However, before you can get the soap on your body, his arms are around you again and his lips are ghosting over the shell of your ear. “I’ll be quick, baby. Please, it’s my birthday.”
You roll your eyes at him. He’s insatiable. And he’s definitely going to be late for his own birthday party.
happy birthday, hani, i love you! If you liked this work, consider sharing your thoughts with me on the comments or my ask box. thanks for reading! 🧡
#can you guys tell i wrote this on a rush?#because i did#there's probably many mistakes#but i'll get back to correct them later#just wanted to post it while it's still his birthday#happy hani day everyone!!!!#if you can pls show seunghan how much he's loved#in whichever way you're able too#thank you for those sticking with him after such a long and unecessary hiatus#i love you guys#he'll come back to us soon#i know he will#Amanda writes riize#amanda writes seunghan#seunghan smut#riize smut#riize x reader#riize x you#seunghan x reader#seunghan x you#seunghan x y/n#riize fic#riize fics#seunghan fic#seunghan fanfic#riize fanfic#riize seunghan#happy seunghan day#kpop smut#kpop fanfic
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#me setting up foreshadowing in my own fic — ohohoho i wonder if this will come up later#dick grayson#tim drake#dc comics#persephone tag
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lupercalia, babyyyy! and suddenly, mark antony appears—
this is a re draw of a comic I posted back in October! If I bothered to keep track of dates, I would’ve scheduled this post weeks in advance and for much earlier in the day like I do with the Ides of March lmao
Nicolaus, Life of Augustus 72, trans. Mark Toher
⭐ other places I’m at! bsky / pixiv / pillowfort /cohost / cara.app
#gaius julius caesar#gaius cassius longinus#komiks tag#roman republic tag#I feel like if Antony hadn’t interfered them Caesar would’ve accepted it and wore it and it would have been such a sick power play#and Cassius probably would’ve thrown up like five minutes later over it but still. fun! power and dominance! alas. A naked#mark antony appeared and my theoretical AU of events did not come to pass#I could write it out as a fic tho. much to think about. ‘Cassius’ and ‘Caesar’ are fucking in the stage AU tho
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happy to finally be able to share one of my two pieces for @mcytblraufest this year, along with the AMAZING fic I got for it!
#mcytblraufest#i did two bc i have things wrong with me but the second one will be coming Later bc the fic is still being worked on!#sketchbook#hermitcraft#hermitcraft s8#tangotek#zombiecleo#geminitay#pearlescentmoon#cubfan135#goodtimeswithscar#impulsesv#bdubbleo100#YES i tagged all of them. i spent a month drawing them everyone has to see them ok? ok#the second one only has two characters thankfully lol
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"Here," Danny slides his business card over, and Victor fries takes it.
"Contact my parents, go to Amity Park. They can explain and answer every question you have, Mr. Fries."
Victor, still in his suit and staring, frowns. "What about Nora?"
"I can promise you, she will be alright. I'll give you daily news of her condition and make sure everything is on top condition."
Mr. Fries hesitates, glancing at his frozen wife. He contemplates it, the decision and its cost if he were to trust.
"Nora can't handle transportation in these conditions, but with me here, she will get enough ectoplasm exposure that will make her liminal." Danny explains carefully, eyes crinkling as he looks at the man.
"She will turn into a ghost and come back. Anger may be stronger than love, but love is one of the main emotions one will form in the Infinity Realms."
Victor exhales shakily, breath tinted white from the cold.
"The same will happen to me if I depart to amity park?"
"Yes." The halfa nods. "You will be exposed to ectoplasm like every other civilian there, but unlike here with Nora, my parents will make sure you understand every little thing about this process."
"And if she does come back as a ghost... how long...?"
Danny bites his lip. "I'm not sure. Once her ghost forms, she will be under my protection, many know to not go against me. She will learn of her new culture and then of the traditions."
He explains slowly, making sure Mr. Fries is concentrated and on line with every word he tells.
"Her memories will slowly trickle in, but she will remember and most likely go and find you."
Victor, the ever careful man he is, tilts his head. "How will she come back?"
"My parents again, they have a portal. She will be led to it by associates and friends safely. You will meet her at Amity Park, that's why I suggested moving in the first place. She won't be strong enough to leave amity at first."
"Why me? Why us? This program is not public, and you can not possibly be joking either."
"Valid," Danny shrugs at his gaze. "Call it fondess or maybe attachment, but Nora really grew on me despite... not being very expressive."
—
(They talked for so so long, until Victor Fries aka Mr. Freeze finally agreed and left.
Danny gave them the privacy needed for their temporary goodbye, he would help them, he'd promised so.
And Phantom doesn't break promises.
So he helps Mr. Fries escape Gotham, made sure he arrived at the meeting place with Jazz, and gave updates on Nora in her cryochamber.
He would buy flowers for her, talk, throw jokes, despite no answer.
Aunt Nora's life would flicker at a time, and sooner than later, Danny knew her time was up.
He left when Victor came back, got her out of her sleep, and held her for her last moments. He was here when Victor departed again, ready to prepare his new apartment at Amity for Nora's arrival.
He felt unbridled happiness when the news came back months later that Nora managed to get back. She became a winter spirit like he is, more alive than she was in the last live.
Danny was happy for the Fries family.)
#dcxdp#dpxdc#dp x dc crossover#fic prompt#writing prompt#dc x dp prompt#Nora Fries is Jack Fenton's sister#not.mentioned like at all#but her sickness is actually a curse from their anscestors adventures#danny only gave them.this chance.bevayse theyre family#but also bcs he sympathised#the amity program is not public for fear of soemone weaponising ectoplasm#victor is just so baffled that his wifes family would come in clutch with an actual solution#they re married in death too btw#with the entire family there#btw victor also wasnf aware nora was family to them at all#he found out later on#the fentons assumed he knew and were just their normla cryptic ways
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(text from this post, fic is little kid with a big death wish by @remedyturtles)
i'm genuinely not sure where to start here - ig first of all this fic is absolutely incredible and if you somehow haven't read it yet you absolutely should!
okay. man. rem, this fic means so so much to me and i'm so glad i got to be here for it. i think this is one of those fics that'll stick with me years down the line even if one day i'm not into tmnt anymore, one i'll come back to over and over again
your writing has touched so so many people myself very much included, and i just. want to thank you so much for writing this fic and thank you for sharing it. you're an amazing writer and an amazing person and i'm lucky to know you. i can't wait to see what you do next
#rottmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#rise of the tmnt#tmnt#little kid with a big death wish#my art#forgor all my tags its ok ill come back later <3 anyway#god theres legit so so so much more i wanted to say but i cant get. the words right augh#i kinda tried to put some of it in the comic though so. yeah. the emotions anyway#idk idk i just have a Lot of feelings abt this fic and how real it feels and just . man. it hits so so hard /pos#just... the fact that dw leo has been through everything he has and is capable of recovery and living. even if he doesnt want to live just#yet. hes getting there. makes me feel like i can too as cheesy as that sounds lajfd;lajlfkl#anyway ive rambled enough i spent ten (10) full days on this comic i am setting it loose into the world. be free#suicide attempt cw#dissociation cw#<- just to be safe. ask to tag if theres anything else lafj;dljsafkl
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lover, be good to me. jason todd [3.4k]
synopsis. in the third summer of your love, you get sick.
cw. gn!reader, sickfic, mental health issues, descriptions of weight fluctuation, angst, hurt/comfort. medication. this one is a bit heavy so please exercise discretion. written from the perspective of chronic illness but nothing is specified beyond discussion of mental health symptoms.
There’s a ghost that lives in your home.
This thing lives between you and Jason, a haunting in every room, a presence you can’t not feel. You feel its baleful eyes on you in dreams and upon waking, strongest in the winter, when the East Coast chill sinks its teeth into your arms hard enough to reach bone.
It goes like this: sometime in the third summer of your love, you get sick. There isn’t anything to point to what it is exactly, only that one June morning you don’t get out of bed. It’s nothing until it is, the next several weeks spent making a home in the four walls of your shared bedroom.
A flip switches seemingly overnight, and you’re further from your lover than you’ve ever been.
Jason - and the part of you that knows better, dormant now, buried beneath the rubble - watches in mute horror as you bring yourself to ruin. The desire to be good, the control you’ve held over yourself, slips free of your grasp in seconds. Invisible threads are picked at until you’re frayed at the ends and your beloved home, this reprieve the two of you had as good as built from the ground up, falls victim to it.
You pick fights. You slam doors and hide in the bathroom for hours on end. You want to scream yourself hoarse, your fingers itching for violence, longing to shatter something if only to give life to this sickness that lives in you, as if by breaking, you’ll cast it out. The exorcism does not come, but a cloying feeling sits beneath your skin, strangling, blood sitting stagnant in your veins and rotting.
There are moments of clarity, when you lift your head from the haze and the gravity of all you’ve done barrels into you like a freight train. Those do not last long, invisible hands pulling you back under before you can correct your course. It's as though you take the backseat, replaced by something entirely that takes the controls, watching in mute horror as you destroy everything around you.
Jason gives it back just as good but even then, even in the anger, there’s something else in his eyes. You catalogue it, feeling as though your very soul has split – it’s the you from before that weeps at this, reaching out for your lover in prostration, begging for forgiveness. The being that lives in you now, volatile, ever shifting like a burning flame, burns too bright to feel shame. He is there, and he loves you – enough to bear the brunt of your pain, apparently. Shards of shrapnel, your anger is explosive and shatters everything in its wake. It cares not for sentiment, for history and love. You hurt, and it is blinding.
The doctor’s appointment is booked far later than it ought to be, after weeks of tumultuousness that have left a dour cover over your home, seeping through the cracks in the walls and into the surrounding apartments. Your neighbours must loathe you. You’re too detached, too selfish to care.
The night before is the most clear headed you’ve felt all month, haze lifting as if to show you – look what you’ve done, look at all you’ve wrought. The devastation floors you, the grief you’ve caused to the one you love most curdles your blood and you weep in Jason’s arms. Knelt before him, you press your wet face into his lap.
I’ll be good. I promise, I’ll try to be better, I’m sorry.
You can barely breathe through your tears, broken hearted, sure you must be dying. Has anyone ever felt such grief, you wonder, and the thought is immediately followed by a tidal wave of self loathing. Selfish, so focused on your own misgivings. This is no way to live.
He tells you he loves you and it feels like a kindness you don’t deserve. Too good a man for you, an exhaustion from the last month lines his features. The thought terrifies you, that you’ve veered too close to the precipice of forever splintering him, that under your hand he knows other, less gentle things. Yours has not been a peaceful love as of late, and you wonder if this will be the straw that breaks his back.
In the waiting room, his hand finds yours. A good man, one you do not deserve. He doesn’t let go. Not when your name is called, not when you tell your doctor what’s been happening.
You hope, foolish, desperate thing that you are, that they’ll offer a quick fix. It’s laughable, but the soft turn of the doctor’s gaze makes your stomach twist. So begins the year of doctor’s visits.
You become very familiar with waiting rooms, sterile rooms and the low buzz of the news channel playing on TVs, pale walls and water coolers, paper cups shredded in your lap.
The first shrink you talk to is, at first, the answer to all your problems – Jason balks at it, in the beginning, and you hear him muttering to his brother on the phone but he doesn’t breathe a word of it to you. If it helps you, that’s all that matters. The man listens. He understands how hard things are and how your hurt is poisoning you. He makes the right noises and his cardigan lends him an air of sincerity, brown eyes framed by thick glasses that in the glare of the light feel kind, almost like kinship.
You’re desperate for a solution, even if it means taking the prescription pills that after about a week, leave you with hands that shake violently anytime you raise them, shedding too much weight, way too fast. The insomnia comes next, and then the pills that are meant to fix that. Orange, smaller than the nail on your little finger. The tremors do not go away, but in settles a new drowsiness, bringing with it vivid dreams that feel terrifyingly lifelike. You wake in a sheen of sweat to the already awake gaze of your boyfriend, eyes wide and wary, hands finding yours in the dark, whispering reassurances when you cry again.
How many tears have you spent this year, and how many have you subjected him to?
His kindness feels like a balm over your jagged edges, and you shake your head when he first tentatively suggests that the medicine isn’t working. You’re determined to stick to your vow. You love him, you need to get better. You can’t keep living like this, can’t do the fits of rage, can’t do the mood changes. You can’t keep hurting the both of you.
Still, sleep evades you, a cruel thing dancing out of reach even when you’re told to double down on the dose. The dreams only worsen, virulent hues of fluorescent greens and red, blood and viscera on your hands.
It feels like a condemnation when Jason mutters one night, after you’ve woken from yet another dream, body stiff with fright and reaching out for him, less hesitant now in the face of your tears, “This isn’t working.”
Bitterly, you find you can’t argue with him. Worse, you’ve shelled out a horrifying amount of money simply to vent to a yes-man. The pills are disposed of in the morning and another appointment scheduled.
Back in the waiting rooms, back to discussing other, not-shrink options, Jason’s hand finds yours once more. You watch the news, watch tired parents wrangle their sick children, watch the colourful plastic toys.
“I hate this,” you whisper, leaning into his side.
You’ve been unwell for a month and then some, by now. The waiting room feels like a taunt – you are sick, you are suffering. The sickness festering in you, the rot you can’t explain, makes you feel smaller than ever, frail in a way you haven’t known before.
Before, you used to like that Jason was so much bigger than you, that he could protect you. This, though, he cannot save you from, a fact you’re sure frustrates him just as much as your weakness does you. There is the anger, of course, but there is also fear. What is to become of you now? Your life, through your failing health, has been torn from you. You feel robbed, feel a distinctly you-shaped loss in your frame that leaves you teetering on a precipice. How quickly things had taken a turn, and there was nothing you could do about it.
Jason sighs, turning to press his mouth against your hairline. “I know. I know, baby.”
You’re sent off with forms for another blood test. Maybe it’s something different, and there burns a beacon of hope. It is also entirely possible you’ll spend another six months on medication that doesn’t work.
You don’t care for this. There is a hopelessness and vulnerability to feeling sick that you do not care for, catching sight of yourself in the bathroom mirror and doctor’s office scales and fluctuating weight – you begin to turn your head away from the numbers at this point like you're being stuck by a needle, meeting your lover’s eye while the doctor takes his notes and finding comfort in teal irises, in the small grin he gives you when you’ve done something he thinks to be brave. You don’t care for any of it, but you must. For him.
He hasn’t breathed a word of contention to you – a good man – but you know it weighs on him. You’ve woken once or twice in the night to find him watching over you, something in his eyes like he fears you’ll slip away, a hand always in yours, or holding you close to him.
Guilt, ever-cutting, roils in your stomach. The anger cedes these days to make way for it, and your eyes burn, shame becoming a familiar friend.
“I’ve put you through the wringer, haven’t I?” you whisper on one of these nights. He blinks, unaware you’ve woken, and it speaks to how tired he must be that he’d not noticed, too lost in his thoughts to feel your eyes on him.
He cradles your jaw tenderly with one hand, kissing your temple. “No more than I’ve worried you.”
It’s true that you’ve faced your own set of troubles with him. Still, it feels distinctly different – his anger had been the product of fear, a genuine terror at the thought of letting you get too close. There’s decay in you, one you aren’t sure has entirely left, despite your placidity these days.
“I’m sorry.” You apologise and he narrows his eyes, but you reach for his hand, intertwining your fingers. “You’re a good man.”
“Don’t be stupid,” he grumbles. “Obviously I’m going to fuckin’ look after you.”
Do I deserve it? You think.
“Wish you’d let me do the same for you,” you whisper, instead. It’s a truth you’ve often spoken, but feels like a lie in this moment, a deflection of your feelings. Guilt, once more, settles on your tongue, cloying against your tastebuds.
He kisses you sweetly, and you wonder if he can taste it. Something in the slant of his lips tells you he knows. How could he not? Once, twice, he brushes his mouth over yours. Chaste, loving. “Just get better. Then, maybe. I’ll consider it.”
Your eyes burn, fear like the tide, washing in once more. “What if–” your breath hitches, a lump forming in your throat.
“What?” His voice is soft, encouraging.
“What if it isn’t–if I don’t–” you can’t make out the words. The pad of his fingers brush over your lips.
“You will,” Jason whispers, voice thick. His eyes are bright in the dark, you realise, horrifyingly, sapphires covered in a sheen of liquid. “You will, ‘cause you promised me. And I’m holding you to it.”
You hear it for what it is – I’m here. I’m here and I’m not letting go of you. Don’t let go of me.
He’s asked for so little. Good men are rare to find in Gotham and you’ve got the best of them. You reach up and clutch his wrist, hands turning until your fingers slot comfortably between each other.
“Okay,” you tell him, and you know he knows. I’m going to get better.
The diagnosis comes eventually. In your relief, there is also bitterness. Another step forward, it still feels entirely too late. It should have come before, you think. Before you’d taken a sledgehammer to your love, before you’d fractured yourself and Jason from the inside out, before you’d put scars where there had been none, invisible lacerations lining the walls of your chest.
The medication – pills, pills, always pills – is difficult to adjust to at first. It leaves you short of breath, and more anxious, reaching for Jason to ground you. You cry a lot and though it isn’t anything new, there’s a misery in Jason’s eyes that only makes you weep more. You want to be okay again. You want to smile at him without the weight of all you’ve done, without knowing you’ve made him cry when he thinks you’re asleep, tears bleeding silently into the space of the pillowcase above your head. You want to go back so bad it makes your hands shake.
You lie awake, staring at the ceiling. Jason, on his side, brushes a finger over the swell of your cheek.
“Can I say something.”
You hum, sliding your eyes over to him. He gives you a tentative smile - the barest quirk of his lips.
“Maybe I’m being hopeful, I don’t know,” he mutters, eyes tracing the slope of your nose. “Tell me to shut up if I start talking too much.”
This bashfulness makes you laugh a little. It’s so much like before, and you ache for it. For a moment, you can pretend nothing bad has happened, that the two of you are just in love and home.
(You wonder if you will always be reaching for before. If you’ll ever get it back, if you’ll always long for it. You wonder if Jason does too.)
“What?” you breathe out.
“Think the meds are working.”
Your breathing shallows and you blink at Jason. Hope is a fickle thing, and it feels tremulous, dancing just before your fingers, as if coaxing you to reach out. You trust him more than anyone in the world, but you’re scared to hope. “What?”
His knuckle brushes over your cheek. “You don’t look as tired.”
You avert your eyes. “Maybe I’m just sleeping better.” Tell me. I’m selfish, I know, but tell me I’m doing better. I need to hear it from you.
He shakes his head, and you quietly marvel at the bloom of pleasure in his face, a contentment you haven’t seen in months in the crease around his eyes. “It’s not that.”
The doctor confirms this when you go back a few weeks later and Jason, so like himself for a brief moment, meets your eyes over the man’s head and mouths, I told you. You bite back a grin, still wary, barely out of the woods.
“You’ve gained weight,” the doctor says when he gets you on the scale, and he sounds so pleased the sound shoots straight through to your heart, flintstone striking a light, kindling hope for the first time in months. You look down to the numbers flashing back at you, to your lover – but he’s already watching you, eyes creased in silent pleasure.
You are the last to accept this tentative beginning to peace, to healing, but he waits for you at the threshold, hand outstretched.
There is no tangible evidence of the destruction you’ve wrought in your home but it lingers, even as you begin the slow crawl out of the woods. You see it in the lines of your lover’s face. There are corners of the room you cannot bear to look at for the first few months following your appointment, too reminiscent of words you’d bellowed in a rage induced haze, captive to your own body.
This history is one too fresh, too tender to accept just yet, wounds still pink and raw. You cannot face yourself yet. There is too much to do, too much work to do, too much at stake to jeapordise if you slip and fall now.
But Jason is a good man. Much better than you think you deserve – but he’s said the same about you, so perhaps…just maybe…you think it might even out.
He doesn’t shy away from the worst bits of you, the ugliness you’ve bared to him does not run him off, not like how you flinch from it. You made a promise. I’m holding you to it. He’s hard to shake off, but you don’t want him to. You’re thankful, even, for the dog teeth he’s sunken into your forearm, bound together in blood.
There is grief in beginning to heal.
Perhaps heal is not the right word, and yet there is no other for this, overcoming the last few months feels like it ought to be called healing. But this is a forever thing. You will know this deficiency for the rest of your life, will know doctor’s appointments and bloodwork – strictly cautionary, we need to make sure the dose is right so we can adjust it accordingly.
There is grief in finding your footing. It lingers, the horror of falling victim to a biological response – that your mind should so easily be lost, it feels indicative of something greater, a weakness you need to cut out at the root. Jason shakes his head when you voice this one night – you are only ever honest like this under the cover of darkness, sleep softened and gentle enough to be frank with him.
“You’re not weak.” He says this with love in his voice, but a thread of steel weaves through his words. “Don’t fucking say that. You’re here. That counts for a fucking lot.”
He tugs you closer and you feel it again, that fear that grips his heart. Like you might dissolve in his arms in the middle of the night.
“I feel better–than before,” you tell him, peering up at him, eyes burning. You press a hand to your heart. “But I still feel it. It’s still here.”
He presses his forehead against yours. “I know.”
And you suppose he would know. “Is it gonna be like this forever?”
He takes a moment to think, and you have to tuck yourself into his neck to hide your tears. Raw – this year has left you raw. You’ve spent a fountain of tears, but they’re yet to run out. You find solace in the hollow of his throat; if you could, you think you would attach yourself there permanently.
“Yes, but no.” You make a questioning noise and he smooths a hand down your back. “‘S gonna be different, now. Not always going to be bad, or good, just – different.”
“Different.” The word fits oddly in your mouth, and whether it’s the late hour or your grief, you can’t make sense of it. He shudders out a breath, weary, and you press closer.
“Yeah,” he whispers into your hair.
“I just–” you swallow with some difficulty, a lump in your throat. What is there to say that you haven’t already? “I hate this.”
His lips twitch into a tired, sympathetic grin. “I know, baby.”
Silence follows his words, where you mull over all that there is to say, sorting through the jumble of words in your head. You shift until there’s a little room between the two of you, looking up at him.
“Hey.”
He hums, and you feel his hand raise from your back to cup the back of your neck, thumb sweeping over your nape gently.
“I’m gonna –” your breath hitches, stumbling over the words. “I’m gonna be good, I’ll – I’ll be better. I promise.”
And he knows you’re not talking about your health. This is a forever thing, after all. Your words point to the hidden cracks in the walls, the foundation of your home and heart – I’ll be better.
Tourmaline eyes crack open a little wider to look at you, tired, but hopeful. “I know, baby. We’ll be alright.”
Ah. Of course he knows. You grin tremulously up at him and press forward to smudge a kiss against his jaw, breathing your promise once more against his skin, hoping it takes root.
Jason waits at the threshold of your new normal, arm outstretched, knowing you’d join him eventually. He’d known, of course he had – every inch of your soul was his. He holds his hand out.
Out of the woods, you take it.
fin.
this fic has been in my drafts since 2022 and it always felt too vulnerable to write and finish. like there needed to be a big ceremony about it. this fic is incredibly personal to me, and i always thought i had to be 'ready' to finally finish it, whatever 'ready' means. but it's a sunday night and the semester begins tomorrow, and i'm writing this in bed listening to whatever my spotify plays for me. i'm not sure if this will make sense to anyone but i hope it makes you feel something regardless.
this is a love letter to myself first and foremost, because i'm no longer afraid of reopening an old wound!! i carry her with me always and i love her and i'm taking care of her. i love her and i love you.
#good god i need to go to sleep !!!! but anyway if there are any mistakes ill come back later and fix them#divider by inklore#jason todd x reader#jason todd fanfiction#x reader#jason todd imagine#jason todd fic#jason todd x you#jason todd x y/n#jasonsmirrorball
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