#it's an EXPERIENCE stop taking away from it

[entitled-fangirl]

How to liven a marriage.

Cregan Stark x wife!reader

SMUT SMUT SMUT SO MUCH SMUT

Summary: Cregan and the reader's marriage is dull, purely for duty. When the reader finds a book in the Winterfell library depicting just how pleasureful a man and wife's sex life can be, she takes it upon herself to introduce such a thing.

Warnings: p in v, fingering, making out, washing bruises (from a battle), riding, studying the scientific parts of a vagina, foreplay, etc

A/n: based on a reallllly good ask. I think this is my longest fic and I have no regrets. Except that I haven't proofread it yet. That's a later problem.

Masterlist

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She felt her stomach drop to her feet when she saw the drawings in the book. Her cheeks became a flushed red, completely embarrassed to have stumbled on something so… private. She shut the book with a thud and cringed at the loud sound that echoed in the library.

She heaved the book back onto the shelf and brushed off her skirt, as if trying to completely brush off the experience itself.

Once she had pulled herself together, she decided she'd had enough of the library. Enough scavenging and prodding at the books. Especially one like that.

Be even so, she felt herself stop halfway to the door.

She was a married woman. The act of sex itself is no crime to a married woman. Nor studying various positions of it. 

It felt dirty to do so. Very wrong. Like her old Septa would appear and scold her ardently over it.

But her Septa wasn't there.

No one was there.

Just her and the book.

…

Cregan was sure to arrive within the fortnight. 

She wished to be happy about all of it. The return of her husband was good. It had been a tough few weeks to rule without him. After all, she was still new to the North.

But she couldn't find it in her.

Cregan was harsh and cold. Never happy, never caring. Duty and honor. How the words were stamped across their foreheads.

They had married out of duty, and that is all they had of one another. They were awkward and lacked the eagerness to spend time with one another. 

She had heard stories of great marriages of love that whisked away all problems and only left a man, a wife, and their love. That was not this marriage.

So the return of Cregan meant the return of a duty that she had started to dislike: Their attempts to conceive. She knew once she gave him a few sons, they would be rid of the need to conceive, but that day was far away.

And Cregan surely drew closer to Winterfell.

…

Perhaps the book- Forget about the book, she told herself. A proud man like him would never agree to look at such a thing.

Her fingers grazed over one of the drawings as she read the contents next to it. It was confusing to try and follow such a strange topic, but still she tried.

Women may experience intense pleasure of their own. It is most easy to start at the clitoris. It is located above the vaginal opening. A gentle circled rubbed at the area w

"What are you reading, my lady?"

She slammed the book shut with a thud and a gasp, her head snapping to the side to see Winterfell's maester standing with a curious expression. She held a hand over her chest. "Do not sneak up on a woman."

"Forgive me, my lady. I thought myself being rather loud in my steps." He gave her a chuckle. "It seems I was wrong."

Her shock was turning to embarrassment as she tried to slide the book further behind her back on the table that she leaned again. "You're forgiven, just go."

"Ah, I've come for a reason," he countered. "News of Lord Stark's return is at hand. He should be here by sunset tomorrow, gods willing."

She nodded, trying desperately to get him back out. "Right. How fortunate. Thank you. You may go."

"My lady, if I may," he continued. "You look rather flushed. Are you feeling ill?"

"NO!" She cringed at her outburst. "No, I'm quite well, thank you."

The maester gave her a strange look. He clearly didn't believe her, but he wasn't going to push it. "Right. If you need anything, only say the word." He dipped his head and hurried off, closing the door behind him.

Her entire body relaxed at his leaving. She ran a hand over her face in an attempt to physically remove the heat from her cheeks.

She had been so close to getting caught with this.

Too close.

When she was sure there weren't footsteps in the corridor, she turned back, opening the book once more and reading further.

It gave her an idea.

She grabbed the book, carrying it to Cregan's desk and setting the heavy thing down. Her fingers sprawled over the page once again, careful to not continue the tear that went down the side. She slowly sat down as she continued to read.

A gentle circled rubbed at the area will increase pleasure during the act of sex.

She looked over her shoulder to check one last time before her hands began to bring her skirt up. The fabric was quickly pooled around her stomach and her legs were exposed. Her right hand shook as it brushed the small piece of fabric still guarding her most intimate parts from the cold air.

But the most important part of a female's genitalia to understand is the vagina. Located between the clitoris and the anus lies the vagina. Though different in looks, all women's perform quite alike.

Her breath caught as she gained her last bit of bravery, and her fingers pushed the fabric to the side. The cold air made her hiss, as did the coldness to her fingertips.

The labia majora protects the vagina from foreign particles, the labia minora after that. 

Her fingers explore the very area, the cold digits skimping past the skin until she knew her middle finger grazed the inside of her vagina. 

She should have known the territory well. It was her own body and still she found herself unsure of where everything laid.

And above all else, she felt filthy for it. This was for her husband, not her own gain. Her own pleasure has nothing to do with making an heir. But she wouldn't stop now.

Her eyes grazed over the page again as she pushed her middle finger deep inside her. It caught once or twice, the lack of moisture causing a small discomfort. But once her second knuckle disappeared into her, she recalled the feeling. 

She remembered this now: the feeling of something inside of her. Though, this was one finger and nowhere near as intruding as her husband's cock. And only then did she begin to understand how a man could fall apart from this feeling. Her walls seemed to not want her finger to part from her. She pumped it in and out a few times before daring to turn the page with her left hand.

…

Cregan returned as promised, with the sun beginning to set behind him- though it was covered with the thick clouds of the North. 

Standing on the stairs to the castle was his wife. He had long awaited to return home. To continue his duties to her? No. But home meant warmth and small comforts and he would take that every day he could.

He dismounted his horse and took slow steps to her. He forced a small smile, more for the sake of everyone else than the two of them. "My lady."

She gave a polite nod of her head when he grew close. "You've returned safely."

"I have." His gaze wandered around the area in an attempt to ease the awkwardness.

"I… I've missed you," she muttered.

His eyes looked to her and his brows pulled together. "Have you?"

"Well…" She looked down at her shoes. Was that even true? She didn't miss him. Not really. Well, she did in a way. Waiting to talk about the book. "Well, I found myself wanting to be with you as soon as I could." She swallowed and looked up at him. "Would that be considered missing you?"

" 'Being with me,' " he repeated as he thought it over. He squinted in contemplation before trying to clarify. "As in speaking with me or… other things?"

Her face flushed and her eyes looked right back down to the ground. 

He sighed and placed his hands on his hips. His tongue ran along his teeth before clicking as he came to a conclusion in his mind. "An hour. My chambers."

It was a soft command. He never ordered her around. And if she chose to voice an opinion ever, she knew he'd consider it. He was a forceful man, but not like that. 

But when she made no motion against it, he chuckled. One of his hands came up to her chin and tilted her head up to meet his gaze. "An hour. I'll even wash for you first." He pressed an emotionless kiss to her lips and stepped away, grabbing his horse's reins and beginning to speak to one of the other men.

An hour. That felt like too long to sit with her thoughts. But she'd manage. Somehow.

…

An hour later, she opened the door with her heart beating wildly. 

But upon seeing what laid inside, it died down.

Cregan laid in the large copper tub, his head laid back against the rim as he bathed: fast asleep.

She leaned on the door and studied him for a while. How easily the rough man became just as soft as anyone else. He seemed… at peace for once. That large crease that always laid between his brows was gone as he softly snored.

It's hard to make an heir like this. But he'd journeyed so far, and something like sex seemed dumb when he needed rest this badly.

She stepped in and closed the door behind her, careful not to make a heavy sound. Her steps were quiet and careful, quickly guiding her to him and now she kneeled at his side. 

Her fingers dipped into the water. It was beginning to grow cold.

And judging by the light pruning of his fingers, he'd been there for a while.

Cregan often took his baths alone. He always refused the help of servants, even his wife, rather wishing to have this as his alone time.

She grabbed the cloth that lay over the side- unused, judging by its dryness, and dipped it in, beginning to lightly trail it over his chest. 

She took the time to study every scar across him. There were many and she had no doubt that he'd won each battle they belonged to. She had seen him sparring- she knew how formidable she was with a sword in his hand.

The water ran down his chest and dripped into the tub again. The sounds echoed in his room. Each seemed loud compared to the utter silence of the air.

She moved to the other side of the tub and cleaned him, now noticing the deep cut on his shoulder. Deep purple and green bruising laid around it. It looked quite painful. When she ran the cloth over it, he hissed and his eyes finally opened.

He took in the room, a sharp gaze that would make most men fearful. Once they set on her and he completely came to, they softened slightly. She saw the way they flickered from her eyes to the cloth in her hand. She waited for him to inevitably shoo her from the room.

"Has it been an hour?" He quietly asked. "I apologize. How rude of me." He pulled the rag from her hand. "And I've made you feel as if you have to clean me to make up for time lost that I now owe you. Well, sit and I will hurriedly finish, wife."

His words and movements caught her off guard. She was unsure what to say. 

"Go on," he motioned with a hand. "Sit and wait for me. Like you so patiently have."

"No," she finally countered. "Y- your shoulder. It looks painful. Let me."

Her hand grabbed for the rag, brushing his. The two seemingly froze in the moment. Cregan's deep eyes stared up at hers, as if taking her in for the first time. Finally, he shook his head. "It won't take long."

"I know. So, let me," she argued again.

He looked down to their hands, their fingers touching just barely. Slowly, his grip loosened and she was able to slip the cloth from him.

Silently, she took the acceptance and began to wash him again. She took extra care around the bruises now. When the cloth ran over them, the fingers of her other hand followed and paused. "Does it hurt?" She softly asked.

Cregan's eyes were glued to the water now, his fingers dipping in and out and watching the droplets fall back into the tub. "They always do."

"It didn't go well, I take it?"

He held water in his palm, cupped carefully as he studied it. "It went very well."

"This is very well?"

He tilted his hand and let the water escape down his arm with a sigh. His head tilted and he finally looked at her with a firm gaze. "The Wall is harsh. Even on its best days."

Having him stare at her so deeply made her chest flutter and she suddenly imagined how he might look at her while doing things from the book in the library. 

She dared a thought, bringing a hand up to his cheek. He watched her carefully. To think that she did this of affection was a ridiculous one. He must have something on his face.

But when her palm rested there, on his cheek, he began to think differently. It brought a strange feeling to his stomach.

Her hand rested there for a while and the two were unmoving. But when she brushed her thumb over his cheekbone, he pulled his head away.

Her fingers pulled to her palm as she accepted the rejection and blinked away all thoughts. "Lean forward," she gently commanded.

He raised no fuss, pulling himself forward with a small groan. No doubt his muscles protested with each movement.

She focused now, trying to ignore the way the muscles in his back flexed and contracted each time he moved. 

The cloth ran across his back and few times, and he eventually sighed at the feeling. Her hand somehow applied just enough pressure to his aching back. And when she noticed and focused just above his shoulder blades, he let out an audible groan.

"Tense, Lord Stark?" She almost teased.

He didn't catch the teasing part though, too relaxed in this state. He only nodded and prayed that she'd continue.

She abandoned the cloth and began to fully massage his shoulders with her hands. It put the powerful man in a relaxed trance, and not one he cared to come out of anytime soon.

"I've been thinking," she spoke. "Well, do you think that… " she hesitated. "That maybe… maybe there's more to conceiving a child than… what we've been doing?"

There was a silence. It was suffocating and she was sure that she'd said the wrong thing. She would have swore he hadn't heard her, but the sudden tension in his back said so.

Finally, his head turned just a bit, revealing half of his face to her and he barely looked over his shoulder. "I think," he drew out, "you've been reading."

Oh. So he knew of the book.

She pulled away, as if burned and began to wring her hands as her nerves took over. "It was there… and… And I only thought… maybe-"

He laid back again the tub again to look at her. "Is that something you want?" He calmly asked.

Her mouth went dry as she tried to speak an answer. 

"Wife," he voiced a little sharper. "I asked you a question."

She forced herself to take a deep breath. "Yes."

The corner of his lips tugged up and leaned his head back against the rim as before, closing his eyes. "So be it."

"W-" she stopped herself before creating any problems she didn't need. He'd agreed, and that was that.

With her confused presence, he opened his eyes and lulled his head to the side. "I'll apologize again for taking our time." His hand came out of the water to her, mimicking the way she had cupped his cheek early. "But after the feast?" His thumb ran over her lips, catching and pulling down her bottom lip. "You are mine to have."

…

She remembered something in the book about this. Foreplay, she recalled. Like dangling a bone in front of a dog and seeing the way it would drool in anticipation. 

Like quick glances, small touches, things that would signal to a partner that you wished to engage in sexual activities. 

Doing such things during a feast felt scandalous. But it filled her heart with a fire that she knew was traveling between her legs as well.

She had started it, brushing her hand with his as they ate. Then wiped at a bit of wine that had dripped down his chin. Then even daring to brush a hand across this thigh.

But that was earlier. Now, across the room from each other, she took other tactics. 

When she wasn't looking at whoever she spoke to, she looked at Cregan. Her eyes would wander from his face to his feet, a long gaze that took its time, and enjoyed every moment of it. And he was quick to notice it. When she was caught and his eyes were on her, she quickly looked away in mock embarrassment.

It worked wonderfully.

The rest of the evening, she felt his eyes on her and when she'd look back, he'd have a look that said he was ready to devore her whole. She felt her core almost drip with the adrenaline rushing through her.

Now, to act on it.

She caught his gaze again, keeping it and taking slow steps to the high table, hoping he'd get the hint to follow her. 

And perceptive he was.

She stood in front of her chair and reached down to her cup when his chest warmed her back. His hand reached over hers and seized her chalice as his voice spoke lowly in her ear. "Bid them goodnight. We are retiring."

She craned her neck to try to look at him. "We are the hosts-"

"-two minutes, and I'll carry you myself if I must."

His warmth disappeared, and he set her cup back down to the table.

A wide grin came to her lips.

…

The moment the door to his chamber closed, he pushed her against the wall. His lips chased her with a heat like she was the air he needed to breathe. His hands pulled at the fabric on her shoulders, so eager to undress and ravish her.

Her hands did the same, pulling at the strings of her doublet. But it was hard to do so through Cregan's heavy hands tugging her this way and that. 

Soon enough, cold air rose goosebumps across her skin. Cregan paused, only for a moment, letting his eyes wander over her. And for the first time, lust was evident in his pupils.

His lips consumed hers once more, his tongue delving past her teeth to hurriedly explore. His hands and hers both pulled at his clothes. 

With his chest bare, he deemed that enough for now. He picked her up and took her to the bed, dropping them both to it and holding himself above her with one hand. His lips moved to her neck now, sucking at the skin. And her small hitch of breath encouraged him.

Soon he pulled away and stood at the foot of the bed, pulling down his trousers and throwing off his boots. His eyes never strayed from her body. How beautiful she was. Now he really noticed.

His hands found her ankles. He pulled her down to the edge of the bed.

She began to notice how he'd began to go back into their routine from before.

He stepped between her legs and propped her hips up a bit, lining his cock with her cunt and beginning to force his way in.

Her jaw clenched and her nose inhaled sharply. She was never used to that first push. 

Her mind wandered to the night before with the book. She had went on to get three fingers in and without pain. She knew it was possible to avoid this if they went slowly. And the pleasure she had felt yesterday was inexplainable.

"Cr-Cregan," she panted out.

His eyes snapped up to hers. They never spoke during this. There was never anything to talk about. 

"I want to… to do it differently," she managed out.

He pulled out from her, holding her legs steady as he gave her a questioning gaze. "What did you read in that thing?" He finally asked.

"I want… I want to be… above," she tried to explain. "You lay down and I… I will do the work."

He was hesitant, understandably so, but he was hard enough now that he didn't quite care how it happened. He just needed a release.

So he laid himself on the bed, his eyes almost bulging out with the way she straddled him so confidently. 

She brushed against his manhood, and he couldn't take it anymore. His hands gripped her hips tightly as he tried to take back control. But her own hands pulled his away. She gave him a look that warned him to let her try it.

She sunk down onto him this time. The pressure was there, but it was different. More bearable this time. And at her own pace, she took her time to adjust to him until his pelvis met hers. 

Cregan's eyes were closed in bliss, and she took that as a sign to continue. She pulled her hips up and sunk back down, and a whine left her mouth without realizing it. It felt… good. Sex with Cregan felt good.

His hands trailed back up to her hips, more gentle this time. He guided her hips in a back and forth motion and a sinful moan escaped from him.

She continued it as he wanted, leaning down to brace herself on his chest. With this new motion, she could find a little pressure to her clit, and it brought a whole new wave of pleasure.

The motions quickened as the two began to explore the idea that maybe… just maybe… they liked this.

If their moans had any indication.

She felt a tightening in her lower stomach, something she remembered from yesterday. She wondered if Cregan could feel it from inside.

And he could. It created a resistance that had him almost drooling with how well it felt. How good she made him feel.

"Let me fill you," he voiced in a beg. It hadn't intended to come out that way, but it did. Cregan was begging.

"I w~" the words caught in her throat. "I want you to fill me," she managed. "Give me a child, Cre~"

The words died altogether on her lips as her orgasm washed over her. The one from her fingers yesterday was nothing compared to this. She felt it throughout her body like spring that had finally snapped. 

Cregan's eyes were open and wide at the feeling of her cunt around him now, spasming with the aftermath of her orgasm. It felt amazing, and he had cursed himself for never discovering it before.

And now that he had, he wouldn't forget it. 

Her cunt milked him for all he had, and he happily gave it to her, releasing himself with a heavy groan.

The two slumped on the bed, Cregan's arms wrapped around his wife's frame. Neither were eager to move from their positions, not even as he softened inside of her or the liquid ran down her thighs.

Before, Cregan had held her up and made her keep it in. 

Now? He didn't care. He could always just fill her again.

He'd do anything to see the way her jaw dropped and her eyes glazed over again. 

"Thank you," she breathed against his neck.

There was a comfortable silence from him. Then finally, "I'll have that book read within the fortnight."

..........................................

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[transkeiichi]

one of my best friends from middle through high school and even into adulthood despite the distance passed away when we were like 20ish.

it was so tragic. i was devastated. but at her wake everyone wore ratty punk and metal band tshirts, full goth make up, lots of long haired dudes in grateful dead tshirts. it was wonderful, honestly. there were way more people i could tell were there for her mom, but i instantly knew who was there *for her*. it was probably 2/3 her moms church and 1/3 people who knew a single thing abt her.

and everyone who was there for her mom hated us. they said we werent being respectful - i kept asking to who? who arent we being respectful to, her mom whos pissed we all look like we got out of a drunk party the night before and wandered into the funeral home in whatever we fell asleep in? probably half the people there did, and she would have adored that.

the funeral goes on, and this preacher gets up there and starts fire and brimstoning. me and her high school friends look at eachother totally fucking confused. what the hell is he saying? hes going on and on about how much her daughter (who also passed away - not going into these details) loved to go to church every wednesday and sunday. how my friend loved to take her daughter to Bible studies. how when the fucking meals on wheels showed up her daughter would dance around the parking lot of their government funded section 8 housing singing hallelujah and kids gospel songs and praising jesus.

we were pissed. the little group of weird emo bisexual girls-soon-to-boys, who grew up with her, sat in the back of the funeral and steamed. i whispered to one of them "if she could get up out of that coffin and leave this bullshit, she would." i guess that was more rude than lying about a dead persons life because some old lady turned around and gave me a nasty look. i asked her who are you? howd you know dana? whens the last time you saw her step foot in a church, cuz i havent seen her in one since we all quit going at 14 because the youth leaders stopped providing free food and that was the only reason wed been going.

she didnt have a response. but i was rude, not the man lying about her, or lying about her daughter. her daughter was only like 2 btw, she could barely walk or talk let alone dance around and sing. and meals on wheels was an incredibly embarrassing experience for her as a young, single mother raising her child. everyone judged her for getting pregnant in hs and while unmarried. she had to pretend to be christian when they came around cuz theyd always give her pamphlets and tell her god loves her and she was afraid they wouldnt stop by her apt anymore if she didnt say those things back.

her tombstone has a bible verse carved in it, because even after death she has been forcibly christianified no matter how many times she told me she didnt believe in god, she believed in kurt cobain, and she hoped if she got reincarnated she came back as a cat.

none of that shit mattered and when i expressed how fucking rude this shit was, i was told the funeral wasnt for her it was for comforting her mother. i said so if i decide to lie abt u after u die and say you were an atheist just like me and ur scared of the black void after death, thatd be ok?

no one likes that question.

anyway, this particular subject is a sore spot. this was my friends blog, let me know if u think she might have been a Secret Christian @1000silentneedles-blog (warning her header is Very Flashy)

I know I just restating the point of that post but respecting religious freedom will sometimes require you to respect someone's belief that religious beliefs are categorically untrue, and there are a lot of people who are unable to handle this, and even more people who think they agree with this but haven't really grappled with what it means.

[pillowscience21]

I wanna talk about Vi pulling Cait by the back of the neck here. Not only is it really hot I feel like it has a lot of meaning...

Caitlyn has spent half of season 2 with her neck being a target. She is choked out by the shimmer monster at the memorial.

Sevika chokes her...

Sevika chokes her TWICE while fighting in the tunnels... I imagine after this she has a lot of trauma around her neck being a vulnerability...

She pulls away when Maddie goes for her neck when they are in bed.

She covers her neck completely with the collar of her coat

Covering her neck with her clothing, and her neck thingy(idk what it is called) to display her rank. A symbol of her status and strength in a place that she feels she is vulnerable...

Ambessa's lieutenant chokes her when she is trying to help Vander, he chokes her enough for her eyes to turn read and for her to pass out, she almost died here if Jinx hadn't stopped him... another peace of trauma added to the pile.

She wears a turtleneck after that, perhaps symbolizing the trauma from those previous experiences, an attempt at sheltering herself from pain that area of her body has been subjected to.

Yet she allows Vi to pull her in from the back of her neck.

She allows herself to feel pleasure in Vi's touch there...

She tilts her head so Vi can have more access to the part of her body that makes her feel most vulnerable. Allowing Vi to kiss her there... to trail her fingers down her throat.

She even allows Vi to grab her by it as they are kissing. From anyone else this action would invoke a trauma response but again, she allows herself to take pleasure in it.

Caitlyn allows Vi to touch her most vulnerable parts, she allows herself to feel it as a source of pleasure instead of pain. I think its an incredible beautiful detail...giving yourself to someone you trust fully.

Then when Maddie aims at Caitlyn's neck, its like a huge fuck you to all of the growth Cait has allowed herself. A place on her body that has shown weakness, pain and trauma that she has allowed herself to heal with Vi's hands. Maddie tries to take that away.

Then she still is wearing the turtleneck at the end, symbolizing the trauma she bears. Still vulnerable, to what may come next. But she has Vi by her side to soothe those worries, because she knows they can overcome anything together. I think that is beautiful.

[smhc]

jayce hopping timelines to be reunited with viktor, when they were young and happy and so full of hope. a do over. but he soon realizes when he makes his way to one universe, hes overriding a version of himself, taking away the opportunity for that jayce to live out his own life with viktor by his side.

so he only stays for a little bit, “borrowing” time from himself from different timelines, never settling down. he learns of every possibility of himself and viktor, at every point in their relationship.

he learns how to slow down viktors illness (though never cured). hes also learned what it feels like to watch him die. he learns when its TOO early to confess, and he knows what happens when he’s too late. he gets to experience versions of viktor through the shoes of versions of himself in all possibilities.

when he decides to leave, onto another timeline, into another jayce, he leaves himself words of advice. if jayce cant stay, he may as well try to make things better.

he leaves notes in that jayces journal.

“he likes his coffee way sweeter”

“offer to walk him home, he’ll refuse at first but eventually gives in”

“he will need a crutch soon, start drafting up something”

“stop wasting your time and tell him”

“DONT say that thing about people from the undercity”

on jayce’s never ending journey of finding his own viktor, he can at least help himself along the way

[yuckiemouth]

help a girly out here and teach me how to masturbate step by step pls

TMI/OPEN THOUGHTS

Let’s see… I haven’t masturbated in a while because I be busy and my sleep schedule is actually giving me justice, but when I use to stay up, I’ll tell you what I did step by step… man I feel like a teacher 😭

1. PRIVACY

this is obvious, but some idiots get caught, so yeah if you’re able to, LOCK your door, me in a strict house hold, I don’t even have locks, but I never got caught either. So if you don’t have locks on your door or unable to even close it (cuz some parents be doing that), go to the bathroom or better yet, wait til everyone sleep.

If you’re a moaner, pillow rider, vibrator user, dildo user, turn your TV UP!!! Even if you don’t moan, big mama makes SQUELCHING noises, I’m talkin she be wet, so you don’t want no one walking past and be like “WTH?”

2. GET AROUSED.

mindlessly masturbating is such a waste, so I say really set the mood. Turn off the lights or dim them, or better yet LED lights. Optional if you wanna wear sum sexy. To get aroused properly, watch something that you’re attracted to, whether its lesbians, straight sex, BBC, roleplay, etc. whatever that ain’t my business, but if you aren’t able to (say if your parents took your device or your internet is just trash.) USE YOUR IMAGINATION. While imagining whatever you fantasize, caress your inner thighs, knead or suck your own tits, suck your fingers, slowly rub your clit through your underwear, etc.

3. HOW TO MASTURBATE 101 🤓

I ain’t no fingering ass bitch cuz I don’t feel a fuck thing so… As WOMEN, we should know where the clit is (I hope cuz if not where tf have you been?) anyway…. Depending on your anatomy, your clit has a hood (heavy skin) because it’s so fucking sensitive bro. I found out people don’t be feeling nun when they rub big mama is because y’all ain’t pulling the hood up, the mf ain’t cold, take the hood off!! BUT I MUST WARN YOU. Don’t rub yourself too hard because it could be hurtful and could possibly lose feeling on your clitoris, so if you’re rough with your fingers or overly sensitive, keep the hood over it, but if you’re not, PULL IT UP.

Now using your MIDDLE and RING fingers, it’s different strokes people use. The most commonly used one is circulating around it and rubbing side to side. But I’ll tell a little secret.

The way I get off involves 3 techniques.

First, I start off slow, controlled, and even roll my hips with it. Now after some time, I’m aroused, using my arousal as lube y’all hear me out… then i stimulate more by going faster, but soft on the touch. Once I feel like I’m ready, I press harder and go all out, then GOT YA! I’m a edger! I stop when I’m about to cum and slap it a bit to keep her stimulated. Yeah, yeah I know, I get mad TOO when I feel my high go down, but repeating it like 4 times, best nut you’ll experience.

So I circulate, go side to side, and spank her cuz why not. When I’m real horny and feeling rushed, it takes me 10 minutes, but if I have time, 30+.

4. HOW TO CLEAN UP

Now…. Me, this is from experience, I be all over the place. So I go to the bathroom, flush away that water weight, wash my hands and if you’re a squirter (which im not), girl you should already have a towel under you cuz who feel like changing sheets tbh… and NEVER masturbate with underwear, take them off before you even start.

Now people hate talking about it, but YES, masturbating has a smell and you probably won’t smell it because you’re the one doing it, but if another person walk in, they will smell a musky scent SIMPLY because your vagina is an open ORGAN closed with thighs, and you know what creates that? Heat! And you know what heat creates on your body? Sweat. And what SHOULD sweat smell like (since y’all be dirty a lil). MUSK. So to eliminate that smell around the whole room, keep your lower half under covers, use a candle, spray air freshener, keep the air on, inscents or whatever those are called. WHATEVER JUST BLOCK OUT THE SMELL.

And that’s all I got tbh….

[currentfandomkick]

Danny gets a visit from Scarecrow. He’s reviewing his products and informing Scarecrow which set of fear receptors each sample targets. As far as Danny’s body is concerned? Adrenal gland- affective fear gas and toxins are carbon ghost weed. Some affect only the amygdala without triggering his adrenal glands were more like electrolyte drinks for Danny. Scarecrow is fascinated by Danny’s biology and Danny is given the man’s number so he can continue to be a willing test subject.

Tucker got bored while Scarecrow and Danny were doing drug experiments. Tucker just… decided to toy with the magic he has as Dulamann and noted raising dead animals is included. He now has a pet pigeon zombie named GiGi who is a demanding little thing expecting cuddles on his shoulder and coos. Tucker refuses to let Lancer return her to being dead, ans the class agrees.

Wes and Star ended up in a Riddler Scheme. Wes and Star get the riddles correct, sure, but Wes is bored so he treats it like an escape room. Star tells him he will not beat the Phantom Allegations if he keeps it up. Wes does keep it up and points out as they leave that Batman’s armor, build, and base structural features all could belong to Bruce Wayne and the Batman dating Bruce would be a clever cover, esp given the 6 lookalikes thing and Superman being a dead ringer for Bruce Wayne. Star reminds him that outting the living people’s secret IDs is poor taste. His response of ‘so you don’t want me to tell the rest of the A-listers which market Hood gets his snacks from and when then?” Star shuts up and demands his camera for the event as otherwise she will not hear the end of it from Dash.

Oddly enough, it was not Fenton who bit anyone. That was Sam in an attempted kidnapping of an heiress. She broke skin and the kidnappers are in the ER since the teens began their class trip. She is also arguing with Wes over photo composition and subject preferences and purposes. He thinks her aesthetic is boring and trite. She finds him to be a clout chasing idiot whose curse is the only thing stopping the Dannies from being outted as the Phantoms.

Everyone catcalled Selina with pspsps or whistles audible to dogs. Lancer tells them to “stop harassing the local rogues. They are not liminal, this is harassment” multiple times. Catwoman is bewildered and takes to dropping Robin (Damian) in front of them to see their reaction to him.

This began the vigilante response betting pool and subsequently sabotaging. How Paulina was not caught and made out like a bandit is everyone but Mikey’s to wonder. And he is spilling nothing.

Danny and Val were caught making snowmen as a date. His icecore kept him from any consequences (and gothamites were convinced he’a alien, meta or both at this point) while Val is seen in her Red Huntress suit teasing the crap out of him. Apparently this reminded the poor Mr. Freeze of his relationship with Nora and the man was very unwell. Batman reprimanded them… only for Danny to try and steal the man’s cape as “it rewrites physics and has a submix of cursed magic and black hole-centered magic. I need this to store the thermos not in my chest!” Batman is now Concerned for the meta boy. Val just rolls her eyes and tells him to see if Catwoman can get him a scrap to test and play with as a souvenir and possible commission for her at a later date. Batman is further alarmed, but is called away to help move victims with early stages of hypothermia.

Val and Danny are later seen in an argument with Red Robin and Spoilers on battle tactics in the middle of an escape(?) from Bane. Danny is insistent they ‘let him soup the man’ while Val is in favor of Danny hitting him with a wail and letting her contain him in her suit’s energy field. Spoiler is intent on getting the pair to leave her and Red Robin to moving the guy to a less populated area and wait for backup. Red is trying to trick the man into a corner and avoiding direct combat himself. Sam shows up and grows plants throguht his nerves to paralyze him for the time being, complains that they are inefficient and is seen chatting with Robin over various methods of ‘not liable to make a ghost but Worse’.

Batman issues a cease and desist communicating with Robin outside of rogue attacks

Tucker raises a crow from the dead for Robin. And runs into a determined zombie trying to kidnap him. Kwan throws the creepy owl mask through a wall while Tucker grumbles about not being into feathers, and the need to ask before assuming he’d be down for a fight.

Ashley shared a look with Britney before the pair agreed the Penguin looked severely underfed. They bring this up to the rest of the girls. Sam and Paulie share a look before every girl on the trip has gotten fresh fish and begin throwing it at the poor human-shaped Penguin shifter. Guy was so malnourished he forgot how to fully shift one way or the other :((((

Hannah managed to save a kid from a very unmatched ghost fight. Little girl names Jenny Falcone. Her uncle Carmine was real grateful and invited her and her class to dinner with them! The shoot out with the Maronis was not her fault! How was anyone supposed to know they were Mafia Mr. Lancer? Is it because they’re italian? That’s so racist Mr. Lancer. (Class incites a minor riot against Mr. Lancer until he reminds them that Falcone and Maroni are names on the ‘do not interact with’ list. Not far from the Wayne Clan and their itinerary.)

The class spread stories of ghost fights to their new friends. Danny had taken a shine to Scarecrow (to Lancer’s misery) and Grundy (to everyone else’s misery). Dash is the biggest Phantom Hypeman beside Paulina. Fenton being summoned mid-conversation with Grundy resulting in a city-wide rampage instituted another rule.

Dash started the sewer fishing against Danny as a joke. Pulling out a disgruntled Killer Croc and reuniting Jazz and Danny with their missing-for-twenty-years uncle waylon was on no one’s bingo card. Waylon insisting the lair stay with him and the Fentons approving annoyed the rest of the class. Why do they get to have unstructured time and we don’t was met with a mile long stare from Lancer.

Jazz was banned from Arkham Asylum with Sam. Jazz for appearing outside of visiting hours to ask Harley about a portion of her research into reformation facilitation with those believing themselves irredeemable. Sam for attempting to help Ivy escape with Harley.

Mia, Nathan and Rebecca did almost kill two-face and his goons during an ATM run. Their combined battlelust was cut short by Lancer using a Fenton-Grade Water Gun reeking of old cologne. The lecture on not adding to the ghost population, even in self defense while being a Guest in Thammy’s city did not stick to anyone besides Danny. His address of ‘okay, but do you want me to make them an Amity Problem?’ Got the message across.

Tiffany took Danny’s triple dog dare, to challenge the next rogue holding them all hostage in a punoff for longer than it takes the rest of them to escape was accepted. james and Dash made sure it wasn’t catwoman though—she wasn’t good at innuendo. She is good at wordplay and had the clown on the ropes until Tommy faceplanted whike getting up and Tracey tripped over him. The lancer lecture was not worth the lost bet. Fenton made out like a bandit with her owing him a rocket model of his choosing.

Kyle stealing Lancer’s emergency nausea crackers meant everyone heard it. Wes apologized for his brother’s munchies. Given Fenton’s behavior with Scarecrow, no one paid it any mind.

Tucker reviving a reanimated corpse who imprinted in Lancer and called him “Mr. lancer dad sir” aloud was embarrassing for their teacher and hilarious to everyone in the class. Spike called dibs in being the guy’s cousin and redesigning the bad owl mask. Lancer was a parent now by Gotham’s undead legal system. He did have a minor heartattack and had to stay in the hospital.

DPXDC prompt. Field trip.

Some people would call gothamites petty, but given that most of the USA population treated them as scum, they believed that their behavior was justified.

They didn't like tourists, to put it mildly. Therefore, after learning that in their city were people on a field trip from Amity Park who could not leave Gotham for several days due to weekly escape from Arkham, the news channel immediately decided that a short interview from the guests would definitely amuse the locals. The reaction of outsiders never ceases to be ridiculous.

Reporter: ~Good afternoon~ Gotham News! May I ask you to share what you liked most about our wonderful city?

Mr. Lancer*still in a cold sweat and looks at every passerby as a potential villain*: Uh, no, me..It's so unexpected. Well, first of all, people here are very…

Danny *is high after the tasting samples Dr. Crane gave him for free and is extremely eager to share his happiness with others*,* picks a microphone*.

Danny: Gotham is the best city in the world! Like seriously, damn, I'd like to die here. Although there are constant shootings somewhere, half the time people don't even shoot at me! I haven't been this relaxed since middle school! And in the evenings, there is often such a pleasant scent of fear and despair on the streets. This fear toxin of yours is a real miracle! It's sooo good!

Sam *decides to take the initiative in her own hands before Fenton says too much*: Personally, I am very pleased with the number of green spaces you have in your city. It's nice to see that here eco-activists are really being listened to. Also, the fact that most restaurants have a thoughtful menu for vegetarians left a very pleasant impression.

Dash in his favorite T-shirt "it's not gay if he's dead": Four words. Hips of Red Hood. The fact that it is not marked in the guidebook as the main attraction of the Crime Alley is a real crime. This dude clearly never skips leg days. My respect.

Tucker: What can I say? The speed of internet here, even during villains attacks, is absolutely  unbelievable. I don't want to leave this place.

Jazz: I love Gotham! Finally, I was able to buy all the works published by Dr. Harleen Quinzel. *girl picks up an impressive stack of books* For some reason, they are not available online.

The camera points at a red-haired guy with a twitching eye.

Wes: I'm 85% sure Bruce Wayne is Batman. I have a proof and I am ready to provide it.

A girl with a "Good Guess" pin from Riddler enters and takes camera away from conspiracy theorist.

Star: Sorry, he slipped out at night and went to look for problems. Again. Don't pay any attention to him. He's always like this when he drinks more than two energy drinks in a row.

[ddodol]

seven minutes — j.sc

series ⭑.ᐟ [ kinktober masterlist ] content warning ⭑.ᐟ smut! minors dni!, sungchan, fem!reader, pet names, seven minutes in heaven, quiet and needy affair, begging, overstimulation (m.), squirting, unprotected sex (seems to be the running theme). word count⭑.ᐟ 1.3k+

“aren’t you glad you’re stuck here with me?”

you glared at sungchan, eliciting light laughter from him when you rolled your eyes. “it’s better to be with someone you know though, right?”

you couldn’t deny that, and it frustrated you even more. going to a different college’s party should’ve been a bad idea, especially if you only went there for one person— someone who wasn’t even there.

sungchan noticed the small pout forming on your lips amidst the minimal light peeking inside the closet. he took up most of the space at the back so you were forced to hug your knees by the closet door, your elbow slightly pushing them open.

”we’re gonna be here for seven minutes, it’ll make your experience better if you at least talk to me.” you hated your options, letting out a deep sigh as you glanced at sungchan. he smiled slightly, eyes disappearing as he leaned over.

”what’s there to talk about? it’s not like we ever had anything in common.”

sungchan exclaimed in protest, poking your leg with his finger, “you don’t even have a good reason to hate me.” he pouted when you didn’t reply, “i’m telling you, anton isn’t interested.”

you groaned, pushing his hand away from you out of frustration. you already knew that but you still wanted to take your chances while you both were single. it’s not like you were in the wrong, constantly hearing about how you didn’t have a chance with your crush would make anyone want to hate sungchan.

you felt something crawling around, eyes darting through the darkness to try and locate what it was. “what’s wrong?” sungchan asked meekly.

”there’s a spider by your shoulder,” you could barely finish your sentence before sungchan threw himself at you— screeching inaudibly as he bent his huge body to pin you against the other side of the closet. you grumbled, desperately trying to push him away.

”fuck off, sungchan! it’s just a spider!” you exclaimed in a hushed tone, beginning to feel flustered when his hand brushed against your chest. “watch it! hands off right now!” you spoke quickly, flailing around as you try to pull his hands away.

your hand slipped, losing grip on your knees which caused you to try and regain your balance by grabbing onto something. you patted your hand around, squeezing the soft thing you managed to place your hand on. sungchan let out a soft moan, body tensing up as he hung his head.

”at least do it properly if you just wanted to touch me,” he grumbled, breathing down your neck. you felt it getting hotter and harder, finally realizing where your hand landed.

sungchan placed a hot kiss on your neck, “please, don’t stop.” you felt your body heating up, hand moving around to palm him through his loose pants. sungchan returned the favor by fondling your tits, whispering how good your hand felt.

his cock began to get more erect, throbbing against your hand as you tried holding it— he was huge, too huge. your hand was barely enough to cover it all but he still melted against your touch.

”fuck, keep doing that.” your legs trembled, pushing them together as your breathing began to get rougher. the closed space you shared became warmer, skin sticking against each other.

sungchan’s other hand began to travel lower, making you shudder. he swallowed thickly, hand trembling as he rubbed your leg. “do you need me, y/n?”

you could feel the warmth of his hand on your leg, hyperaware of the length and thickness of his fingers. you whimpered, head spinning as you thought of having sungchan’s fingers inside you.

”please,” you breathed out, spreading your legs apart to make it easier for him. sungchan’s hand on your leg slithered up to your inner thigh, letting out a small moan when his fingers grazed over your heat. you were glad you wore a dress tonight, albeit for a different reason.

you were completely soaked against your panties, pushing them to the side impatiently as sungchan didn’t hesitate to sink his fingers inside your walls. you moaned softly, trembling at the sudden stimulation. his fingers were barely inside and yet it already felt amazing.

sungchan sucked on your skin, breathing shakily as he began to move his fingers. “baby, i’m still moving my hand. you should do the same,” you bit your lip, squeezing down on his cock.

”sungchan,” you moaned, too dizzy to think or do anything. “fuck, that’s so good,” your voice went higher, still trying your best to moan quietly.

”y/n, wrap your hand around me.” you obeyed, small hand barely wrapped around his still clothed cock. sungchan began to move his hips, moaning against your skin. it was almost amazing how he consistently moved his fingers inside you while thrusting his cock into your hand— it almost felt like a huge waste.

you pushed him back, seeing a flash of confusion on his face. you straddled his legs, busily slipping your panties off and pulling his pants down. sungchan caught on a bit too late, chuckling softly as he held your hips.

there were noises outside just as you held his bare cock in your hand, rubbing his tip against your entrance. sungchan moved quickly, keeping the closet doors closed as he gave you a nod. you giggled when they tried opening the closet you two were in, signaling the end of your little game.

what a shame; you were just getting started.

sungchan kept his eyes on you as your face contorted, letting out adorable moans as you sunk down his cock. you felt incredibly stretched out, thighs already trembling and you weren’t even taking half of him.

”keep going, baby. i know you can take me,” he mumbled, gently pushing you down his cock. you shook your head, quivering as you leaned against his chest.

”you’re too fucking big, sungchan,” you whined, eliciting small giggles from him. he whispered words of praise against your ear, helping you bounce on his cock. “fuck, there,” your hips began to move on their own, desperately trying to replicate the pleasure you felt the first time.

sungchan licked his lips, watching you slowly lose yourself with every bounce. it was a pretty sight, your head thrown back and tits bouncing as you ride him. “just like that, y/n.” you moaned in response, feeling his cock twitch inside you.

”i’m close, baby,” he groaned, gripping tightly on your waist. you ran your hands on his arm, feeling his veins popping up.

you shook your head, “i’m not close yet, sungchan.” you bit your lip, “just do it inside, i still need more.”

”fuck,” sungchan exclaimed, spilling inside you. he jerked up sensitively, moaning breathily when you kept moving your hips. wet noises began to fill the space, his cum sloshing around with every bounce.

sungchan lifted you up, still keeping his cock inside you. you laid uncomfortably against the walls of the closet, thighs split open as sungchan pushed deeper inside you. “oh my god!” you quietly cried out in surprise at how deep he could reach.

he laughed, “i can go deeper, baby. if you let me do this outside the closet, i’ll give you every inch.” you shuddered, head spinning when his cock kept kissing your deepest walls. sungchan was thrusting roughly, playing with your clit as he leaned over.

”cum for me, y/n. make a big mess for me,” he whispered, placing kisses on the top of your head. you gasped, orgasm quickly approaching.

you grabbed on sungchan’s clothes, “fuck, fuck, fuck— sungchan!” you cried out, hitting your head against the wall as you came. you made a huge mess, thighs trembling as you kept squirting everywhere.

sungchan chuckled, stilling inside you as he watched, “you’re so pretty like this, baby.”

as soon as you cooled down, sungchan pulled out, his cum dripping out of you. he peppered small kisses all over your face, prompting you to pull him close. he giggled, holding you as he kept kissing your face.

you stared at him tiredly, playing with his hair, “i’ll take you up on that offer.”

sungchan raised his head, looking at you in confusion. you laughed softly, “take me home right now. i want every inch of you.” he smiled widely, placing a quick kiss on your lips.

”i swear i’ll fuck you so good you won’t be able to think of other men afterwards, baby.”

[adieutristana]

Well, reader and Jinx matching rings (maybe even wedding rings), and when Caitlin shoots Jinx's finger, she destroys this ring. Jinx’s honest reaction?

of course! thank you for the request <3

i decided to make them promise rings since she lost her middle finger. i hope that’s alright!

summary; jinx’s promise ring being destroyed, and fem!reader comforting her after the fact.

characters included; jinx

tags/warnings; fluff, hurt/comfort, mentions of war/combat, mentions of poor mental health, medical talk ig? (patching up), s2 spoilers

men dni.

you’re sat in jinx’s hideout watching her tinker away with… something. a new type of explosive she’s experimenting with, she says. something that only requires one hexcrystal instead of two or three, since she can’t keep using so many. she’s unceremoniously hunched over the workbench, goggles over her eyes as she messes with the piece of scrap metal in her hand.

“having fun?”

you ask, sitting back in the chair she got you.

“mm… this is more difficult than i thought it would be. who knew this could be so challenging? but i like a challenge.”

she smirks to herself, not taking her eyes off of her project.

“well, you’ve never let ‘difficult’ stop you. you’re a right genius.”

“oh, stop. you’re biased!”

she teases, but she’s got the lightest rouge dusting her cheeks. got her. your gaze continues to follow your girlfriend, the way she moves so freely and carelessly. getting her face impossibly close to power tools, using her nails to clean up dirt, teeth capturing her bottom lip when she’s particularly stumped.

“alright! that’s enough for right now.”

she proclaims, standing up and placing her hands on her hips.

“already?” it couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes since you asked her how she was doing.

“yeah! besides, i’ve got something for ‘ya.”

jinx springs up from her seat and skitters over to yours, quickly turning it around. you hear cheerful humming from behind you as she shuffles through piles of belongings, clearly looking for something.

"a-ha!"

she spins you back around, both hands on your seat and quickly rises. she's got something clasped in her left hand, but won't reveal it, not yet.

"what's that?"

"you have to be patient, toots! i've got a speech prepared, don't distract me!"

a speech? jinx never gave speeches. was she breaking up with you? so many thoughts began swirling through your mind as your palms began to sweat, gripping the chair- and then jinx revealed what she was hiding. a wooden box. a... ring box?

"isn't it a little soon to be getting engaged, jinx?"

you chuckle dryly, looking up at your girlfriend. she playfully rolls her eyes, and shakes her head, blue bang swaying.

"yes it is, that's why we're not getting engaged."

she clears her throat.

"not yet."

she turns her attention back to the box, and she opens it. inside lays a thick silver ring, with a circular blue gem in the middle. it looked eerily similar to a hexcrystal- but carved into a gemstone. 'JINX' is shakily engraved on the inside, something she undoubtedly did herself.

"this is a promise ring. i've been working on it for a while, and well... it's kind of stupid." she looks off to the side, sheepishly. "but this is me promising myself to you. to show you that i'm serious about this, ya know?"

you look over the ring for a moment, taking it in for all that it is. it's obviously unprofessional, the metal is a bit dull, and the shape isn't precise. but god dammit if it isn't the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. you glance back to your girlfriend, noticing her observing you- likely for any signs of disapproval. poor girl. as much as jinx had improved since meeting you, she still had the habit of expecting the worst. you didn't think that part would ever go away.

"jinx, it's beautiful. i- you made this?"

you ask, your eyes flickering back to the ring she's holding out. noticing how her grip is becoming a bit less stable.

"with my own two hands."

you chuckle, giving her a little grin.

"well? come on, put it on."

jinx doesn't need to be told twice. she gently takes hold of your left hand, removing the ring from the box and slowly slipping it onto your finger.

"there! it's on your middle finger, so your ring finger is open for the real thing."

not an ‘i do,’ but an ‘i will.’

you hold your hand up to the light, admiring how the ring catches it, before leaning forward to press a flurry of kisses to jinx's face.

"ah- hey! stop, you goof!"

she laughs, arms coming to wrap around you as a fit of giggles erupts from her.

"nope! i get to do this!"

it's not a week later when you arrive to jinx's hideout with a promise ring of your own to give her. a thick gold band to contrast the silver jinx had given you, with a rose quartz to accompany your own hexcrystal. pink and blue… she had a theme going, didn't she?

it wasn't handmade, but held the same sentimental value. you weren't as handy as jinx, and you'd learned to accept that a while ago. you had strengths in other areas, one of them being finding perfect gifts. it didn't take you long to find a jeweler in piltover who had exactly what you needed.

"oh, my god- you didn't have to do this."

she gasps, rosy eyes blown wide. both hands are on her cheeks as jinx gently approaches the open box in your hand.

"you promised yourself to me, didn't you? this is my promise to you."

jinx lets you put the ring onto her own left middle finger, her eyes never leaving your face. watching you so intently, she can feel her heart fluttering in her chest. what did she do to deserve you exactly? she could never quite figure it out, but that doesn't matter right now. you glance back up at her, a little smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

"i… you're too good to me, toots. really."

"i am not. i love you, remember?"

"mm… i love you too. i still think you're too good to me, though."

you let out a low chuckle.

"c'mere."

you bring the girl into your arms, tilting her chin with your index finger to gently bring her closer to you. pressing your lips to hers in a slow, gentle kiss.

oh- and of course, your name is engraved on the inside of the ring.

✧.*

you're posted at your girlfriend's hideout, going over notes in preparation for an exam. it's nerve wracking, sure, but the odd tranquility of jinx's desk is useful in its own way.

jinx swings open the door to the hideout, and as soon as she steps onto the panel of the wind turbine supporting her hideout, you can tell she's in hysterics.

the girl is wailing. she's pacing back and forth, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. but most importantly, her hand is gushing blood. you immediately drop your notes, papers scattering across the desk to rush over to your girlfriend.

"jinx? jinx?! what the hell happened, oh my god..."

you kneel down in front of jinx, taking her hand to examine it. her middle left finger is completely gone, blood rushing out from the wound. it seems to be a clean cut, at least, you won't have to deal with any extra bits to clean up.

"the ring, the ring, it's gone-"

she sobs, a hiccup following and her free hand clenching into a fist at her side. you gasp, looking up at jinx, then back down at her finger.

"jinx, seriously? you just lost your finger and you're worried about a damn ring?!"

you breathe out, exasperation and worry weighing heavy on your voice.

"the ring is important! it's- it's our promise!"

she cries, hanging her head low. jinx is so ashamed, it hurts your heart to see. you let go of her hand and frantically sweep along her workbench for anything. you knew you had a first aid kit somewhere, you'd gotten it after seeing jinx patch herself up in a way that would make any doctor shiver. but god damn it, where was it?

there.

you quickly swipe the kit and a bottle of peroxide from her workbench, rushing back over to jinx. you take one of her wrists and quickly guide her over to her beaten-up couch.

"sit."

"but-"

"sit."

jinx huffs and sits down on the couch, you sitting down beside her. you open the kit and bottle, pouring peroxide onto a cotton square and taking her hand into your lap.

"this is going to sting. a lot."

jinx winces at just the thought, but nods slowly. keeping her eyes on what you're doing-

"agh- fuck!"

she yelps, tossing her head back as you press the square to the wound, holding it there to both disinfect and stop the bleeding.

"i'm sorry, baby, it'll be over soon. i just need to stop the bleeding."

you coo, trying to do anything in your power to calm her down. yet it's obvious the injury itself isn't what she's upset about.

"that- that fucker vi is with shot it off, she shot the ring off..."

jinx seethes through gritted teeth, trying to keep her composure as you hold the peroxide to her wound. ah.. that makes sense. caitlyn was never fond of jinx, especially after the stunt she pulled with the council room. part of you was simply grateful that she didn't just take jinx out, as much as you knew she was probably trying to.

jinx was always putting herself in so much danger, both for the sake of necessity and the fact her ego was just so damn inflated. she said it herself- she just can't seem to die. but she got impossibly close way more than you would've liked her to.

you take out a roll of gauze and begin to wrap it around her hand, the wound being in the center of it all. it's far from professional, but this will have to do until you can get her proper medical attention. which you were trying to avoid talking about, since jinx was the last person to ever admit she needed help.

"jinx, i'm just happy that you're alive. i don't care about the ring right now. what if she had shot you somewhere more... vital?"

"then i would've gotten to keep the ring."

god damn it. she could not be serious right now. you finish wrapping her hand, bleeding having come to a halt and wound disinfected. you'd grab some painkillers in a moment. you quickly take both of her cheeks in your hands, forcing her to look you directly in the eye. the cold metal of your own ring against soft skin.

"jinx. again, i'm happy that you're here, and you're alive, and losing your finger was the worst thing that happened. i will get you a new ring, first thing tomorrow. okay?"

she sighs, her lips coming into a slight pout. at the very least, she's not crying anymore.

"but..."

you press your index finger to her lips, shushing her.

"no. just because you don't have the ring anymore doesn't mean the promise went out the window, okay?" you whisper, brushing your lips against her forehead. "i still love you, and still have promised myself to you. that won't change.

jinx closes her eyes, and leans into your kiss. she seems to have finally resigned, and is snaking her arms around your waist.

"i just- i love you so much..."

"i know, baby. i love you too, which is why i'll get you a new ring. a better one, even."

your hand still cupping her face, you lean in to press a chaste kiss to her lips.

"just stay here, with me. you've had a hell of a day."

[johnny-depp-is-loved]

since new year is around the corner, here’s a very important reminder to be mindful and considerate when it comes to fireworks because hundreds of animals, especially strays, sadly lose their lives every year due to the fear and anxiety they endure. hundreds of pets got so terrified they ran away from homes.

please make sure your pets are safe. please make sure to think about stray animals who don’t have homes to take shelter.

please think about them too.

*I’m obviously not saying you can’t celebrate new years or that fireworks should be banned. I’m only asking for all of us to be considerate of animals who experience fear so intense their hearts literally stop; a celebration should not cause innocent animals’ lives, fireworks are not worth the lives of innocent animals. so please be considerate and think about them too.

[ar-ghilas-vir-banal]

You know what. I’m calling myself out here. I got to thinking about it and I’m going to walk this back.

Flemythal is the embodiment of Mythal’s wrath and vengeance, if I’ve understood correctly. The piece of her that could be ruthless and cruel. But Flemmeth looks like, well, Flemmeth. Her voice is her own. Her body is her own. The fact that she leans into this side of Mythal speaks to her own disposition.

The form we see as being Mythal is what she looked like. She was a spirit of benevolence. She was called the All-Mother. Those are soft things. Gentle things. And in whatever way (I personally think as a son to a mother but whatever) Solas loved her, it was that face and voice that drew him from the Fade. The gentle, beautiful, soft spoken person who told him she loved him and that they were dearest friends and “oh no this mark doesn’t brand you as a slave, my dear friend, just every single other person who wears it, I promise” and he believed her.

And he obeyed her wishes.

This is the person who turned away from him and joined the Evanuris despite Solas’ begging, building a home for her, trusting her. She’s the one he grieved and tried to avenge.

The powerful dominating presence was absolutely there but it was tempered by the other parts of her. Wielded with soft words and a gentle face.

My comment about “he’s afraid of YOU?!” is one made by a person just seeing a picture. Solas had thousands of years to know her. This is the woman who, and I quote: “Pulled you from the Fade you loved and sent you into war. I used your wisdom as a weapon and it broke you.”

She stole him from his home.

- It’s fine, I love you, you’re going to love it. I need you.

She threw him into war. War. War is hell is a saying for a reason. It is. Now imagine centuries of it. Solas went from existing happily in the Fade to WAR. The worst experiences a person can live through, he went right into as a new, spirit-born elf. I can’t even imagine.

- You’re helping me, you’re doing the right thing, you’re making a difference, Wisdom. Wear my brand. Yes it’s usually for slaves but… just do it. For me. You know I love you, right?

She twisted his purpose from Wisdom to Destruction. If you’ve played his personal quest in Inquisition, you know how horrible this is for a spirit. It’s torture. It’s torment. It’s enough for them to wish to die.

- But it’s so necessary, love. We have to win this, or it’s all ruin. Make me a weapon for my war. Serve me and know I love you. You’re fine. Enjoy yourself. Don’t you like the power? Don’t you like how strong you feel, Pride? I brought you here. I’m why you have it! I made you.

So when we come to the end and he’s cowering before her as if she’s about to do it all again, and she just “oh, I broke you… you’re free. We both did so many bad things together because you did everything I required because you loved me… you can stop now, I guess :)” I have to feel like Morrigan was just staring holes in the woman’s back and yanked her back into that idol as quickly as she could. You abused me the same way you did him and now that he’s good and crushed by the final realization that all this suffering was for nothing because you were too stupid to listen TO THE VOICE YOU PULLED FROM THE FADE BECAUSE HE IS WISDOM EMBODIED and got yourself killed, you won’t be touching him again.

Let this poor man go home and take his wife, thank whatever gods there be for her, and leave them alone. Oh and you know what super funny? They’re still going to be cleaning up your mess there too.

I completely understand why every analysis about Mythal in DA:TV is so intense, whether pointing to her as an abuser towards Solas, or whether saying they should share responsibility for all the shit they did, but in truth, the only thing that makes me hate her most is her character visual design.

too Barbie'd for me. Ghilly steals her lunch at school

this woman though. "and I will have her avenged" in Kate Mulgrew's voice. we are in awe when we see her. we fear her.

it is said that Flemeth's fragment has been improving over the years. clearly this has also occurred in the aesthetics. girl, it's called fashion

[sugary-daydreams3]

Quiet inbetween [Sukuna x Reader]

Summary: Collections of quiet, cozy, intimate moments you share with Sukuna, who thinks you two won't last a year. Someone who used to live a wild, fast-paced, loud lifestyle couldn't possibly be fit for a long-term relationship. But he doesn't know that you're the one he needed this whole time.

Word Count: 3.7K words

Rating: Mostly fluff with a little spice (sexual content) at the end, but no full explicit content. Mostly T with a little M.

A/N: Happy holidays y'all. This might be my last fic posted in the year so I hope you guys transition into the new year safely. Goodness, do I love writing my A.U. version of Sukuna. So fun and flirty that he makes me blush sometimes and I control what he says. But I guess that's a good thing, right. Sadly my next fic is dealing with a not so fun topic, haha. (It's Gojo-centric, so you might know where I'm going with this) Anyways, stay safe out there and I'll see you again in 2025. Enough yapping from me, enjoy!

Normal, quiet moments tend to bring discomfort within Sukuna. Dating trouble as a teen limited his time to sit and enjoy the small pleasures of life. He was all about the grand, overwhelming, taboo pleasures that one wouldn’t dare chase but rather daydream about. Or worse, make simulation games about and live out their guilty pleasures vicariously through fictional characters. But with taboo pleasures come consequences which landed him in jail for some time.  

Within the year after his release, he met you which slowly inspired him to alter his fast, vicious lifestyle. You introduced him to things he never would have found himself participating in. Things he used to tease his twin brother for being a sheep for society for. A mom-and-pop coffee shop was one of them.  

“How do you drink this shit?” Sukuna sticks out his tongue. Tanned liquid trapped in your mouth almost spills. Air blows from your nose, signifying your amusement at Sukuna’s first experience with coffee.  

Swallowing down the first sip of your coffee, your eyes admire Sukuna’s childlike distaste for your go-to morning beverage. “Because I order mine with cream, sugar, and caramel. You’re pretty much drinking burnt black water.”  

“Why didn’t you tell me that before?”   

You give him a “really?” look. “I said you should start out with the caramel Frappuccino but you said, and I quote.” You notch your voice down several pitches lower. “The hell I look like drinking that sissy shit.”  

“You could have recommended me any other drink but this. This was a terrible first impression.”  

“I can order you another one to make up for it.”  

Sukuna pouts. “I’ll pass. I fear I’ll be disappointed again.”  

“Sukuna, you just drink straight black coffee, you can’t write the whole thing off just because you had one variation of it. That’s like saying “I hate potatoes” because you ate unsalted, lukewarm fries.” Sukuna scrunches his face.  

“That’s not the same.”  

“Yes, it is. It’s a perfect comparison.”  

“It’s two completely different scenarios. You really thought you schooled me with that, huh.”  

“Shut up. I’m ordering you a new drink.”  

Waiting for his redemption cup, Sukuna stares at you typing away on your laptop computer. Your hair curtains over part of your face, tempting Sukuna to reach over and fix it. Yet the messy hair curtain highlights your beauty so effortlessly, he couldn’t stop adoring your natural radiance.  

The strong smell of roast occasionally makes its mark. Ranges of chatter mingle with the loud cycle of brewing and baking. Quirky, cheesy posters hang all over, providing a drowning sense of positivity and relatability. Generic chill music slithers through the atmosphere, failing to chill Sukuna’s social anxiety. Thankfully, his new drink just came to save the moment.  

Taking a drink from the flat white laced with sugar and cream, he sits back to allow his brain to register. His eyebrows raise with a small smack of his mouth, giving you some hope that coffee redeemed itself on the oh so great Sukuna’s tastebuds.   

“Well?” You ask impatiently.  

“Not bad. Could use more sugar but it’s drinkable.” Sukuna reviews. A pleased smile killed your worry. “I’m glad you gave it a second chance. I hope we can have more coffee dates like this.”  

Sukuna narrows his eyes. “This is a date?”   

Your eyes roll. “No this is a job interview.”  

“I’m not one for customer service but if I get to look at you all day long and the pay is good then sign me up.” You hate that something as corny as that made you blush.  

“Hush Sukuna, of course this is a date. This is like our twelfth time seeing each other, I like to think all of the time we spent together so far wasn't a waste of time.”  

“Ooh someone’s no-nonsense.” Sukuna smirks, large arms crossed.  

You sigh, “I’m just over the hookups and the flings. Honestly, I’m surprised you didn’t just one-and-done me.”  

“Eh, all of the one-night conquests and strictly sex ordeals were starting to get stale. You got a nice face with a body to match. You’re on no bullshit and are fun for the most part. You haven't bored me yet so I don’t mind continuing this.”  

“Yet?”  

“I tend to get bored with my women so I wouldn't hold hope of this lasting past a year. Just letting you know so the heartbreak will hurt a little less.”  

You smirk, amused by his lack of filter. “Well, a year will be record breaking compared to my recent relationships these last few years. So bring it.”  

Your polished nails navigate the grassy fields of dusty pink, natural hair oil inked on your fingertips. Your poor thighs are weighed down under his dumbbells for arms. Your other hand caress Sukuna’s right bicep, fixating on the jet black tattoos contrasting with his pale skin. He rubs your left knee as he rests against your stomach.  

Sukuna releases a deep sigh, letting go of the temporary stresses of life. He’ll rather die than admit it but this is what he mostly looks forward to when he goes about his day. It took him a while to get used to you being positioned behind him, often side eyeing the first few times you two were like this.   

Call it trust issues. Slam the non-medical diagnosis of PTSD resulted from a rough upbringing and life as a criminal. Or if we’re really getting psychological, throw out the fancy “internalized misanthropy” word. Re-fucking-gardless, he’s always been highly aware and on guard whenever people are in close proximity to him, ever since he was a kid.  

Now, the more he allows himself to turn his brain off in your lap the easier you hear him lightly snoring within several minutes. You giggle as his resting figure emits loud snores thirty minutes in of scalp scratching and head caressing.   

“Sweet dreams.” You reach down to peck warmth on his forehead.  

Your wishes go unnoticed as child-like ease warps itself across face tattoos and a sharp jawline. A surprisingly dynamic clash.  

Your laughter saturates the kitchen space accompanied by music from the vintage radio. Flour dressed your behemoth all over, making it the sight of the century. Sukuna frowns as he attempts to smooth the pizza dough with the rolling pin. Tears edge your eyes; the catastrophe he was causing was funnier than any standup comedy.  

“Hush. You're breaking my focus.” Sukuna was struggling to knead the dough enough to be a thin foundation. It usually ends up shaping to be a deep dish or just a regular sized pizza. This was his third effort to mold the pizza, with two “epic failures” baking in the oven.  

When your laughter demoted to light chuckles, you rub his arm for support. “You know I can help you shape the dough. It took me fifteen tries before making an objectively decent pizza.” Sukuna shakes his head.  

“That’s because you were the one making it. It’s gonna be perfect this time.” Sukuna smooths out the dough and smirks at his “perfectly” thin pizza. You roll your eyes and walk over to gather the cheese and other toppings.  

The pizza rises within the oven, gluing the toppings within the cheese. Sukuna watches it carefully from the kitchen island, like his life depended on whether this Thursday night dinner was great or not.   

A marathon of T.V. commercial ramblings was bugging background noise as you tidied up. The other two pizzas sat on the cooling rack, being forgotten tasty mistakes. Flour ages his hair many decades, snowing down his chest with every tiny movement. He turns to see an unlikely troublemaker look down at him, a small hill of flour ready to be thrown from your palm. Sukuna narrows his eyes with a challenging look.  

“You’re playing a dangerous game, darling.”  

“Game on.” You threw it, igniting a two-man war.  

The remaining time for the perfect pizza to cook filled with flour fights, spotting majority of the kitchen with white powder. The cooking timer goes off as you two lay across the table exchanging flour and zeal between prolonged smooches.

This epic fantasy was seducing your imagination during the mundane hours of the late evening. You sense Sukuna spying on you and your book from the corner of your eye. However, the clever arrangement of words trailing above your bookmark helps you ignore him.  

“How do you read these things? That shit looks bigger than The Bible.” Sukuna pokes at the spine of your novel, trailing over the gold-engrained lettering.  

“I don’t judge stories based on length. If it’s engaging enough then I wouldn’t mind reading three hundred-plus pages of something.”  

“Where do you find the time to invest in a story that long?” Sukuna wasn’t even teasing at this point; he was genuinely curious.  

“People watch 10 seasons worth of television or animes with more than 100 episodes.”  

“Watching TV and reading are different no matter how much you try to make them feel the same. I can simply turn on the T.V. and watch 100 episodes of something without exerting much energy. You have to sit up, read so many words, and decipher hundreds of pages worth of story. It’s not the same.”  

“True, I’ll give you that. I just find it funny that people draw the line at consuming a story through reading only because you have to put a little more effort in it.” You bounced back.  

Sukuna rubbed his chin. “I remember being into poetry and haikus a lot as a teenager. But I started getting involved in other shit so I lost interest along the way.”   

You snap to him, no longer being a silent witness to a passionate kissing scene. “You like poetry?”  

“I suppose. I always liked how poets managed to craft thoughts so elegantly. Perfectly describing the complicated or unsaid.”  

“You know the local bookstore down the street has a whole section of poetry books. What’s your favorite poets? I could buy you some of their latest work.” Your comforter became a temporary bookmark with your book lying face down.  

“Hmm, I don’t really have a favorite poet. I used to buy a bunch of random poetry or haiku books and kept the ones that stuck with me. There is one writer that I really like though...”  

You wait in anticipation as you witness him in thought. Simple things like racking his brain makes him a cutie. Sukuna snaps his fingers.  

“Ahh, Yosa Takahama is his name. His work is usually written in Japanese but some translators re-publish them in their mother’s tongue. His work is hard to find around here though. I don’t even know how I managed to snag one of his books in the first place.”  

Despite the challenge, you were determined to get it for him. “I’ll figure out a way to get you one. That way we could be reading buddies.”  

“You don’t have to do all of that, doll. You’ll rip your hair out trying to find those books. I’m fine watching you ignore me in favor of a book that can knock your teeth out.” You chuckle.  

During the rest of the night, you noticed the boredom on Sukuna’s face as he mindlessly consumes television. The least you can do is try to hunt down this haiku book for him. Dating him for some time, he confessed to losing touch with so many hobbies he grew up with over the last few years. You wanted to bring that inner child back to life, killed by proving to the world how tough he was.  

Getting him to read something that actually interests him can be another way to embrace the innocent pleasures in life. You can tell he misses that wild delinquency some days, but you hope he doesn’t miss it enough to end this relationship over. If you can find it, hopefully it can be a building block that rebuilds his new path after leaving the old behind. Anything to help you be closer to him.  

6 weeks later 

Sukuna emerges from the bathroom. The odors of the food he cooked from his restaurant today were replaced with standard soap and his natural scent. Like every other night, you sat with your book, seemingly ignoring Sukuna’s lingering stare.  

After dressing himself, he sinks on the mattress and attempts to lay against his pillow. His thick neck isn't met with the soft cushion but instead a hard surface in the middle area. He stares at his pillow, offended for it not providing comfort, so he lifts it up. A white hardcover book reveals.  

“What’s this?” He asked, not turning to you yet. You shift from the words to your boyfriend’s confusion. “I don’t know where that came from. Maybe the book fairy paid you a visit.” You played dumb.  

“You’re so corny.” He holds up the book.  

“A corny girl you’ve been dating for almost a year now.”  

“Quiet. I’m trying to see what this is.” Sukuna didn’t even examine the title, the pages of the book flutter until he lands on a random page. He reads aloud.  

“Vindictive winter / A white, mighty rabbit looks / betrayed by the king / ...wait.” Sukuna looks at you and you copy his shocked expression.  

“This is Yosa Takahama’s stuff. How did you even get this? This must have cost you a fortune.”  

“It was costly and took me weeks to find a readable copy but the look on your face right now makes it worth it. I wanted you to read with me instead of being a T.V. zombie. Even if that means reading mind fuckery haikus.” You chuckle.  

Sukuna grabs your waist from the side and unleashes many wet pecks around your cheek, neck, and upper chest. You giggle as you brush his hair and hug him back.  

“I appreciate it.”  

“No big deal.” You replicate his cool cat version of “You’re welcome.” that he usually throws at you. Sukuna smirks at the playful imitation.  

The rest of the evening is spent with you two lost in your own worlds of literature. Your brains mixed imagination, broadened perspectives, and emotional intelligence from honeyed words inked against the white.

“I’m too big for this tub. You barely have any room to stretch your legs.” Sukuna commented.  

He adjusted his position behind you, the bubbles shifting from his large body. Your feet rested on the tip of the tub to keep from smushing against the porcelain. You turn to him, offering a reassuring smile. He snickers at your ridiculous face mask, particularly the cucumbers concealing your eyes.  

“No, you’re not. You say that every time you get in with me. You’re fine Kuna, really.”  

Sukuna rests his arms around the top edges of the tub, leaning back to make himself comfortable in his slightly cramped soak. The warm water, Epsom salt, and meditation music playing from your phone kneads away the hidden tension that plagues his body from the everyday.  

“Before I met you, I haven't taken a bath in almost fifteen years.” He confesses.  

“That sounds so disgusting out of context.” You cringe. Sukuna chuckles.   

“You know what I mean.”  

“I can’t imagine going that long without a bath. Baths are way better than showers.” You admitted.  

“Showers are for a quick wash. Baths are more for relaxation.”  

“I shower for fifteen minutes minimum, thirty-five minutes max. I spend about three minutes just letting the hot water hit my body and think about whatever. There’s no way I can just shower for ten minutes or less.”  

“Is that why you’re so smoking.” Sukuna flirted. You shake your head, “That was so corny, Kuna. C’mon you can flirt better than that.”  

“You’re right. I just wanted to see your reaction.”   

You two enjoy each other’s company. The heat protects you from winter and the sheet of bubbles float around and pop within. Sukuna arms lay over yours, rubbing over your wrist. Sukuna focuses on your face and develops a sense of mischief.  

“Babydoll.”  

“Yeah?”  

“Turn around for me.”  

You quirk a brow but obeyed by slowly turning his way. In a swift motion, Sukuna moves forward and bites off the cucumber sitting on your right eye. Your right vision sees Sukuna munching on your edible eye mask.  

“Really, Kuna? You couldn’t resist temptation to eat that?” You scolded. You take off the other cucumber, abandoning your hopes to keep your eyelids nice and fresh. Sukuna steals the other cucumber from your hand and flings it in his mouth.  

“You’re impossible to relax with sometimes.”  

“Thanks for the snack.” Sukuna mumbles through chewing.  

You sigh then lay against his chest and close your eyes. If he was going to interrupt your beauty routine the least he can do is be your pillow.

Sukuna big toe hugs your own after caressing your right foot. Both of your feet poke out from the thick blanket, suffering from the gentle lashes of the nippy air condition. You rest your head on his squishy but firm chest, goosebumps forming from his rough hands brushing your skin.   

“We should light the fireplace.” You suggested.  

Sukuna let out a lazy sigh, “What you really mean is that I should light it.”  

“Yeah, you should.”  

“I could but I fear I’ll turn into a popsicle.”  

You giggle. “Hey, at least you’ll taste good.”  

Sukuna smirks, “I already taste good. You should know out of anyone.”  

You playfully shrug. “Eh, you’re alright. No fine dining though.”  

“Oh really?”  

“Yep.”  

“How about you taste this then.”  

Sukuna leans down and traps your lips in the moment. His lips were smaller than yours yet they managed to govern the heat stirring between each lingering kiss. The frigid air in the room is forgotten in your minds as you and Sukuna make out under the grey blanket. After a couple minutes of sensual touching and lip pulls, Sukuna goes for your neck.  

“Well?” Sukuna lands soft bites inches under your chin.  

“I was just kidding earlier but that was...”  

“Better than fine dining?”  

“I don’t know what’s better than fine dining but, yeah, better than that.”  

Sukuna chuckles, “Glad to remind you.”  

Sukuna “accidentally” lands a hard bite just above your collarbone, caging a pleasured groan within closed lips. Sukuna kisses the forming red patch, “Sorry baby, got a little greedy there.”  

“I hope I give you a brain freeze.” You joked, trying to take your mind off the aching spot.  

Sukuna hooks his finger around the side of your silk underwear, his other hand slowly appreciates your ass. “I’m sure it’ll be worth it.”

Your body slowly rocks on top of him, the yellow and orange from the fireplace illuminate your dips and curves. The aftershocks of your second orgasm calm down, giving you the signal to stop riding him. One hand caresses the trimmed hairs sprinkled across Sukuna’s chest. The other traces the small gold chain decorating his pecs. Sukuna squeezes the body fat from your hips then pats your left butt cheek.  

You hop off and lay down on the blanket you set down for your second round. Sukuna pulls off the condom and gets up to throw it away. The contained fire warms your naked body from a distance, defending you from the army of white cold. You hum while the fire entertains you until Sukuna comes back. He’s wearing the boxers he had on earlier with the embroidered knife patterns. Where he got those kinds of boxers you may never know.  

Sukuna drops the pillow he stole from the couch then sits down on the blanket. He pulls you towards him and you two lie down together. You perform his signature trait, pushing his hair back, enabling his wild look. Sukuna traces your spine, quietly admiring both how strong and weak one’s bone structure could be.  

“I never thought I would enjoy silly things like sitting in front of a fireplace during winter.”  

“It’s silly?”  

“Not really. I guess I just associated this with Christmas activities. Christmas always seemed too cheesy to me so I associated things like this as silly holiday stuff.”  

“Yeah, I get it. Sex in front of the fireplace, just silly wholesome Christmas activities.” You joked. You instantly felt Sukuna’s laughter rumble throughout his chest. After calming down he gives your arm a light pinch.  

“You know what I mean.”  

“I’m just happy you allowed me to bring some mellow in your life. I remember when I met you, you were always in some crazy illegal trouble. It seemed like I could barely keep up with you and your fast-paced lifestyle.”  

“Yeah, it was fun for a while, I’ll admit. Even getting caught had some sort of thrill. Now that I’m pushing thirty, I just feel over it.”  

You chuckle, “Not a spring chicken as you used to be.”  

“Yeah. I suppose every hot shot has their limit.”  

“Well, I’m proud that you’re beginning to settle down. I know your brother is too.” You rub his cheek.  

“I was surprised when he offered to help me set up my fight clubhouse. He’s usually against violence and shit.”  

“Maybe he thought that it would be a nice distraction from your life with crime. Even if it meant supporting you doing something he also doesn’t like. Like a lesser of two evils kind of thing.”  

“I never knew someone so predictable yet unpredictable at the same time more than him.” Sukuna said. You giggle then sprawl your hands across Sukuna’s abdomen, trailing over the ridges in a playful matter. Sukuna tender gaze studies your features as he softly pulls little cushions of your skin.  

“Thank you for sticking with me.”  

You look up to see the wild orange shadowing his strong features. His usual too cool-for-school attitude was replaced with a loving nature only reserved for you. A nature molded by small, seemingly insignificant moments sparked by a mutual agreement of casual dating. You plant a few kisses against his jawline then lay back on his chest.  

Before your eyes close for the night, you slur a few words that gets a smile out of Sukuna. “Guess you’re stuck with me now.”  

[diyasgarden]

merry christmas, please don’t come

“Oh, golden boy, you shined a light on our home and at your best you were magic we were sold. But don't tell 'em what you told me. Don't even tell 'em that you know me.I would rather burn forever”

from “Merry Christmas, Please Don’t Call” by the Bleachers

“What do you mean Patrick isn’t coming?”

Art doesn’t know how many times they’ve had this conversation. (He stopped keeping track after the fifth time)

Memory loss, a dwindling attention span, and blanking. All problems the doctors said his grandmother would struggle with after her stroke. He’d expected difficulties with remembering her routine or where she was. Even the people around her. General things, he could walk her through. Not something so specific. And frankly, considering all the things she could forget, this feels like a cruel joke.

He lets out a steady exhale, stepping closer to where his grandmother stands by the small fir covered in lights, tinsel, and other markers of the Christmas season. Sebastian, the old tabby, is nuzzled right by where his grandmother placed the small, wrapped box under the tree, looking up at him with a cautious gaze.

“He isn’t able to come this year,” Art repeats, reaching to the home-made popsicle candy cane ornament hanging at arm’s length on the tree. It was the decoration he made with Patrick when he came to visit Christmas in 2000 — the first of a long line of ornaments they’d make together for the holiday. 

His grandmother lets out a gentle, albeit unbelieving scoff as she shakes her head. “He always comes,” she remarks, a blatant dismissal of Art’s words. 

His thumb rubs aimlessly over the painted birchwood decoration, as he looks back at her with a tentative gaze. She wasn’t wrong, Patrick would always come for the holiday. After spending Hanukkah with his folks, he’d fly out to the midwest by the twenty-fourth and spend the rest of winter break with him. “For a proper Christmas experience” he’d tease, although Art knew that he just didn’t want to be at home.

Now it’s the twenty-third and he was nowhere in sight. 

“Well he isn’t this year, grandma,” Art sighs, eyes quickly darting back to the tree. The ornaments he made with Patrick are there on nearly every other branch. His thumb presses down harder on the candy-cane popsicle, continuing it's steady back and forth motion, as his eyes jump from one decoration to the next.

Her eyebrows knit and she looks down to the present she placed for Patrick, Art’s gaze trailing behind her’s. In smooth, cursive black sharpie, the word “Pat” is written on top of the metallic red wrapping paper. It's small enough that Art can’t figure out what it is, but its presence may as well take up the whole room. 

“Did he say why?” she suddenly asks, instantly looking back up to him. 

The question is ironic. As if Patrick had any say in the decision. As if he chose not to come. Really Art should just say "he isn't welcome here" and move on. But that's an over simplification in itself.

Art turns his head up to her and settles with: “He’s busy.” 

t wasn’t a lie. The last time he checked, Patrick was somewhere in the Mediterranean, probably trying his luck with the European tour. Or at least that’s what Art gathered from Patrick’s recent facebook posts. (He allowed himself a peek every once in a while to keep his curiosity at bay)

His grandma takes in a soft inhale, looking back down at the present. Sebastian moves away from the box to rub against her leg with a purr, and she looks down at the cat, before shrugging. “We’ll keep it in case he comes.” 

He supposed the danger of going no-contact with Patrick meant that his old friend really had no way of knowing what Art expected.

And Patrick always had a tendency to see what he wanted.

we'll keep it in case he comes

Suddenly, Art feels a sharp poke in his hand, and he turns back to where his finger holds the popsicle stick decoration to see a splinter in his thumb.

He stares at it for a moment and then yanks the decoration off the tree.

It’s around midnight when he goes to properly handle the decorations.

He tip-toes down the stairs, cautious to avoid Sebastian on the railing who is already looking at him with an accusatory gaze. If it wasn't for the cat's general hatred of him, he'd assume it knew exactly what he is about to do. When he walks to the kitchen to grab a trash bag, he can hear the cat hiss. Drawing out an eye roll as he creeps towards the tree in the living room.

The place is only illuminated by the yellow-toned string of lights on the tree, and he just stands there, taking in all the ornaments he is about to take down. 

Some wash pin-figures

Couple of snow globe bulbs

Many paper snowflakes. 

And the candy cane popsicles.  

He lets out a deep exhale before quietly pulling each decoration from the tree and placing it gently into the trash bag. He moves quietly and focuses his eyes on the motions of his hands, not allowing himself to look at any ornament longer than he has to. Only Sebastian’s displeased purrs filling the room.

By the time he’s done, his stomach churns at the sight of the tree now mostly decorated by store bought figures, tinsel, and lights. It’s a foreign sight he keeps looking at, up and down, until eventually the little present with the cursive “Pat” written on-top catches his attention. 

The metallic red wrapping of the little box reflects the Christmas tree lights back like a kaleidoscope. Art just stares down at the sight, still unsure of what the present is. 

Hesitantly, he bends to the floor and gingerly reaches for the box, picking it up in a sluggish motion. It fits into the palm of his hand, and makes no noise. There's a certain weight to it that he can’t place. and his thumb deliberately runs against the tape of wrapping paper.

Then with the same sluggish movement from before, he puts it back down underneath the tree. His hands flex against where he holds the trash bag, and he remains on the ground. Eyes tracing the loops of his grandmother's handwriting and the fractured reflections of colored light.

When he eventually pushes himself to go back upstairs, he puts the bag in the back corner of his closet. Tucking it away behind some old duffle bags from his time at the academy before dragging himself to bed.

Patrick posts a photo of a Turkish marketplace on the twenty-fourth. Somewhere in Istanbul. Or Izmir.

Art doesn't really care where.

At least he was right about it being the Mediterranean. 

authors note: this is me fighting the art donaldson hater allegations!! not really sure how i feel about this, but i think of art and patrick everytime i hear this song and knew i had to write a fic based on it for them. although i did change the line for the title, just so it would fit better with the final product. many mixed feelings on this, but i hope you enjoyed it!! tell me what you think!!! and if you want an edit of artrick to this song...check this out!

art credit: from the December 1960 issue of the new yorker

[xoxochb]

based on real events 0/10 experience, would not recommend

——— ౨ৎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

“what’re ya doin’ there, sweet girl?”

he swallow the falling water. “I’m thirsty. also move over I’m only getting a little.”

without his permission, you push him to the side, the water pouring solely onto you now, giving you the appropriate amount of room to effortlessly drink in the liquid falling from the shower head.

you savor the taste of water you had gone too long without, taking large portions from both the water cascading downwards and cupping it into your hands. without stopping you drink it in plethoras.

“you’re gonna choke, leave room for some air.” percy takes your wrists in his hands and stops you from holding the water within them.

you pout. “please! one more sip.”

“one more.”

he lets go of your wrists and quickly you take a very large amount and drop it into your mouth, though swallowing too swiftly and it falls through the wrong pipe. you begin to choke, as presumed.

“I told you so,” percy remarks, though also taking remorse in your situation and rubbing your bare back.

you grasp onto his bicep and dig your nails into his skin. “fuck— cough— fuck you!”

you swallow your remaining spit and return back to a normal swallowing pattern, standing up straight again. you take all of your hair and place it over one side of your shoulder.

“better?”

you hold a thumbs up. percy nods and pats your back twice lightly before pulling his hand away.

“next time— stop me.”

[bloggerspam]

Merry Christmas!!! Whilst this is technically the finale of the story, in true mimi fashion there will be an epilogue! Look forward to that in the future :)

Thank you to my wonderful betas, Keigo (social pending) and @file-n0t-found for putting up with my rush job <3

===

The first thing Dan does is look at Jason buried in his little blanket nest.

The second thing Dan does is sigh.

Bruce has sighed that way before, a tired kind of sigh before he has to do some bullshit paperwork for WE.

Jason really feels that right now.

He's still trying to come to grips with all he's seen today, much less decide what exactly to do about it.

He knows he's not going to find Sheila anymore, which pretty much guarantees a new future.

The biggest issue is how he's going to deal with his…siblings. His family.

Because that's the thing right? Danny had said they'd be his family in the future, after he dies.

He's not dying anymore, not anytime soon anyway, so how—

Would they even want to be family, if they don't have those experiences?

How did they even become family in the first place? How did Jason even come back from the dead?

Did they become family after his death? Before he came back?

Was he even considered family at all, or just an extra?

"Get up." Dan's voice is smooth, like cut glass. It pulls him out of his spiraling, but reminds him of the impending…what does Jason even call this experience, adventure?

Jason resignedly untangles himself out of his blanket, takes the short walk towards the older man where he now stands by the bedroom door with his arms crossed and looking impatient as all hell.

When Jason is a step away, Dan reaches over to turn the doorknob.

"Wait—I'm, I'm supposed to be dead right now—" Jason tries to stop him but Dan scoffs and ignores him, opening the door and stepping out into the hallway.

The medallion around his neck glows a soft red, but is no longer accompanied by any sound; No ticks or tocks or whirs or hums, just silence.

Jason follows Dan's surprisingly soft footsteps, cape billowing behind him softly, hesitant and cautious. But the Manor is big, and the hallways remain empty as they walk through.

"Relax." Dan says as he stops at the top of the stairs. He does a little chin tilt towards the foot of the stairwell, where Alfie is ascending the steps.

Or rather, where Alfie is frozen in the act of ascending the steps.

"You've stopped time." Jason finally understands, belatedly following after Dan descending past the butler.

Dan doesn't deign to answer, simply heading deeper into the Manor, towards the entertainment wing.

The two younger Dannies were jovial, if not a little sassy. Dani was plucky and a little feral, no doubt unsocialized from being an experiment (something Jason's trying not to think about). Danny was mature, and given what Jason's seen of their interactions, weirdly in charge. They remind him of Dickie, in a way. Dickie when he was Robin, Dickie when he's Nightwing.

Dan…Dan is an anomaly.

He's an adult, for one thing. Clearly reluctant to be here, which Jason doesn't blame him for, considering he wouldn't want to hang out with kids all night either.

It makes Jason hesitant to ask questions, Dan's entire countenance screaming the kind of reluctant annoyance all elder siblings have when they're saddled with a family friend’s child.

Not that Jason is a child, but compared to Dan…

They get to the theatre, still needlessly big as ever, with little trouble. Dan beelines for a middle back seat, plopping down and (as Bab's would say) man spreading like some kind of King.

It's kind of comically funny to watch the ghost almost sink into the ginormous plush seat. Jason almost giggles at it, but catches himself.

Dan, of course, catches him and rolls his eyes. He gestures wordlessly to the seat beside him for Jason to take, which he does.

Dan lifts a hand to snap, the large theatre screen lighting up in an eerie green light in conjunction with the echoing sounds of consecutive ticks, but no tocks.

Jason darts a glance at the medallion that the ghosts have been tossing back and forth at each other all night, curious. It's still glowing red, but one of the clock’s hands is spinning green.

Interesting.

Dan catches him looking and smirks, leaning down a bit to rumble a low, "The kiddies are powerful, but lack finesse."

Jason chuckles, just as the screen starts to show a man facing away from the camera.

He's built like a truck, with a brown leather jacket and wearing a blood-red helmet.

"That's you." Dan leans back, "Or, more accurately, it was you. Red Hood."

"Danny mentioned that name earlier," Jason absently says as he watches the screen intently, fascinated. "Is that my vigilante name?"

He—the man on the screen—Red Hood is staring out over Gotham. The camera pans out slowly, like some kind of action movie b-roll, but still Hood doesn't turn around.

"Yes," A pause. "No."

Jason raises an eyebrow, turning to look at the man. "Which one is it?"

"It's both." Dan huffs. "You're a bad guy, of a sort, at first."

Jason freezes, head whipping back and forth from the screen to Dan. Hood is still not doing anything on the screen, but he can see the whole outfit now: Black military pants, ass-kicking steel-toed boots, gloves.

Two guns, holstered on his thighs.

"Batman doesn't do guns." Jason says faintly.

"Batman doesn't kill either." Dan agrees, "And Red Hood has definitely killed."

Jason abruptly stands up, about to—about to leave but Dan's hand whips out like a snake, gripping his wrist to pull him back down.

He tries to breathe, tries not to cry, tries to fucking think but all he can see is the man on the screen, all he can hear is kill kill kill, all he can feel is a blackness threatening to come over him.

Just like his deadbeat dad, maybe even worse. A disappointment and a half.

"Breathe." Dan commands, a hand coming to clasp at the back of his neck to shake him like an errant puppy,

The crazy part is that Jason's body listens.

His lungs gulp in air, laughing a little hysterically, "I think—I think I forgot h-how—"

"Nonsense." Dan tsks, "In and out, even babies do it. You telling me you're worse than a baby?"

"Define w-worse," Jason stutters, "F-future kill-ler seems wors-se."

Dan clicks his tongue again, before petulantly crossing his arms to mutter, "You get better."

Jason can't help but honk out a laugh at that, manic as it may be.

But it works, it gets him breathing and more level-headed. It gets him to think.

On the screen, Red Hood suddenly looks to the left, revealing that the helmet is red all around, with white lenses where the eyes are supposed to be. He looks sinister, the blood-red of it almost getting darker in the shadows.

"What are we watching?" Jason croaks out, "He's not doing anything."

"Patience." Dan admonishes, "Who says he has to be doing something for this to be important?"

"Isn't that the whole point of all this?" Jason counters, "Danny said you're supposed to show me things I should know."

Dan gestures to the screen, as if to say well, aren't I?

"You've told me Red Hood is a killer. All you're showing me is Red Hood standing on a rooftop." Jason bites his lip, swallowing. "I—I'm not going to find Sheila, so I won't be Red Hood anymore. Why show me this?"

"You're still focusing on the wrong things." Dan sighs, shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose like Jason is being the unreasonable one. "And I told you, you get better. See?"

Dan sweeps a hand towards the screen, where the camera is still watching a brooding Red Hood menacingly looking over the building ledge.

"Just because he's not actively killing someone—" Jason snarks, only for Dan to click his tongue again.

"His chest, kid. Look at his chest." Dan flaps a hand, leaning an elbow on the armrest. He sets his cheek onto his fist, looking bored as he crosses his bulky legs.

Jason looks closer, and—"That's a bat."

"Batman wouldn't have given him the symbol if Hood didn't get better." Dan agrees.

Something in Jason's gut uncoils, burning metal sizzling into a low hiss, relaxing his body.

Something swings past Hood, whooping and hollering. It's a person, bouncing from roof to roof.

Another shadow quickly follows, chased by a quick come on Hood!

More shadows converge from all sorts of directions, clashing and swinging away, repeating in all sorts of different combinations.

It takes Jason a bit too long to realize: they're playing tag.

Those must be his siblings, the other vigilantes Danny was talking about earlier in the night.

Cassandra, Duke, and Stephanie. Tiny Tim, even—maybe Damian, if he's old enough. There're others too, more vigilantes Danny probably didn't get around to introducing Jason to. Maybe a whole hoard of extended family, this future Bruce seems to have a bit of an adoption problem.

Far off, Jason can even see a blur of blue that pangs through his chest. Dickie.

Hood simply watches, huffing a small laugh before shaking his head and settling down on the ledge.

"…Is he not gonna join them?" Jason asks after a long moment, watching the others play with Red Hood.

"…No." Dan says, after a moment. He sounds sad about it, like he's sorry.

"What is this supposed to teach me?" Jason slumps, making his voice nasally and acting out the best he can remember: "I understand, Spirit. The case of this unhappy man might be my own."

Dan flicks his forehead. "Ow! What the fuck!" Jason grumps.

Dan flicks his forehead again. "Don't call me Spirit. It's rude."

Jason huffs.

"I just don't see the point. Why show me someone who won't exist anymore?" Jason slides lower into his seat, feeling exhausted and tired. "And in the first place, if he gets better, why give me this second chance at all?" Jason scoffs, mockingly. "When my death, in the grand scheme of things, doesn't even matter?"

Dan breathes heavily out his nose, exhaling what feels like years worth of regrets and capital I Issues.

"Why show me a future that'll never happen anymore?" Jason mumbles, discouraged by Dan's silence.

"Because," Dan's voice is heavy, with the weight of a thousand lives, "In this universe, you die, and decapitate 8 crime lords."

Jason stiffens, but Dan's voice rolls over him anyway.

"In a different universe, I die, and I raze a whole planet into dust."

Jason is once again at a loss for words. Because that—that kind of comparison isn't even—it's just not to scale.

"When you die," Dan continues, the theatre screen flipping through a series of snapshots, "You crawl your way out of your grave, bit by bit with bloody nails, spitting dirt. You get exposed to something called the Lazarus Pits, what I know as ectoplasm."

"Like the—the ghostbuster stuff?" Jason blurts out, watching a bigger, buffer version of himself shoot out of a glowing green pit of viscous water.

"Yes, like the ghostbuster stuff." Dan rolls his eyes, gesturing towards the screen where future Jason is putting on the red helmet for what seems like the first time. "But the source is corrupted, and you get—sick, for lack of a better term."

"What kind of sick person goes on a killing spree?" Jason says confusedly, if a little fearful as future him dumps an entire duffle bag of decapitated heads onto the floor.

"The same kind of sick person that terminates an entire planet." Dan answers sardonically.

"But I get better." Jason is trying not to throw up, even though the scene with the heads has already cut past, back to the lonely tableau of Hood sitting on a ledge watching his siblings play tag. "You get better."

"For what it's worth, yes." Dan smiles, the first smile he's seen from the older man, and it looks like it hurts. "And we have family to thank for that."

Jason turns back towards the screen, making a face of uncertainty.

Dan huffs a laugh, a soft rumbly one that hurts less than the smile did, "This is why I'm showing you this."

On the screen, a big black shadow comes to join Hood on the ledge.

Batman.

The two of them sit in silence. It's not an uncomfortable silence, but even Jason can tell through the screen that it's not…not the kind of silence that Jason and Bruce usually share. It's stilted, unsure.

Precarious.

"It was never about Red Hood, you see." Dan's voice is smooth. "It was always about the isolation, and the heartbreak."

Jason watches as Hood wordlessly gets up, patting Batman once on the shoulder before exiting stage left.

The camera pans out, the shadows in the distance disappearing one by one, until Batman is the only one left, dawn just peeking out from the horizon, Gotham smog and air pollution giving the city its own splash of color in its otherwise dreary black and white tableau.

"Even if you're never Red Hood in this timeline," Dan lays a hand on Jason's head, heavy and comforting and admonishing all at once. "You tend to isolate, street kid habits always peeking through, never feeling safe."

"So you're showing me this because you want me to…to be better?" Jason whispers, watching as Batman finally stands up and grapples away back home. The big screen fades to black, sudden and blinding.

"I want you to feel safe." Dan stresses. "I want you to accept being loved as a given, to ask for help."

Jason feels tears fall down his cheeks, burning his skin and making everything feel hazy in the darkness of the theatre.

"…I didn't mean to be so reckless with my life." Jason whispers. "It's just that Robin is magic and it's hard not to feel…invincible."

"I know."

"I'm always—I dunno how long this will last. How long Bruce will let me stay."

"Forever, probably."

"Dickie doesn't even want me here, and I don't even blame him."

"Dick Grayson's problem has always been daddy issues. You just had terrible timing."

"…What if I—What if I take too much after Willis?"

"Personally, I think you take after Catherine more. But that's just me."

"Will—Do you think I could still, that I could help my, my other siblings? What if I fuck it up?"

"How would I know?"

This renders Jason speechless for a moment, causing him to whip his head up, tears abruptly stopping in his indignation.

"You have a fucking time medallion!" Jason yells, gesturing for good measure.

"So?" Dan raises an eyebrow.

And that—that's a fair point, Jason supposes. It drains all his doubts and fight and just—emotions right on out of him.

He feels a little lighter, like he's lost ten—no, twenty pounds.

"Is that all?" Dan asks, after a moment. Jason thinks on it a bit, before nodding and shrugging.

"Then let's get this over with." Dan floats up, dragging Jason with him.

"Wait, what?" Jason squawks as they float through walls and ceilings, "That's it?"

"You said that was it!" Dan argues, "What else is there?"

"I'm still confused, for one thing!" Jason oomphs a little as he's dropped like a sack of potatoes back onto his bed. "For another, I don't know, I feel like a finale should be a little more….dramatic?"

"A heartfelt spilling of guts isn't dramatic enough for you?" Dan raises an eyebrow, medallion losing its red hue and glowing green again.

"Well—I mean." Jason sputters, "So that's it? You're just gonna leave?"

"Yes." Dan sniffs, opening up a portal.

"No." Danny says, only for Dani to come barrelling through and tackling Dan through the wall.

Danny steps out of the portal, laughing as Dan and Dani roll around, from up from the floor, through the ceiling, back through the wall.

Jason sighs with a little bit of relief, though for what, he's not sure.

"Ready for the finale?" Danny smirks, settling himself beside Jason on the bed.

Dani falls through the ceiling, falling with a little bounce on his other side, with Dan floating through the floor with a huff to come stand by the bed.

Jason takes a bracing breath. "Ready as I'll ever be, I guess. How's this gonna go?"

"It's a little anticlimactic, I'm afraid." Danny says with an apologetic smile. "We're just here to say goodbye."

Jason groans, falling back on his bed. "Seriously?"

"Seriously." Dani giggles. "We'll get you back to the correct time, and it'll be like we were never here."

"Your memories will stay," Dan rumbles, "Just not forever. Like memories from when you were ten."

"That was only five years ago." Jason points out, curling onto his side. "I remember that stuff."

"But you won't when you're older." Danny reminds him, "The point is, you'll make your decisions, and the timelines will change. You'll forget about us, eventually, but you'll know what to do."

"What if I don't know what I want to do now?" Jason hedges. Because it's true. He still doesn't know what to do about his siblings, or about Dickie, or even Bruce.

"You know what you won't do." Dan shrugs, "That's the important bit."

“Besides,” Dani smirks, shrugging her shoulders in a careless gesture, “Everything we’ve shown you tonight is basically obsolete, isn’t it?”

"Fair enough." Jason sighs, before he sits up, and opens his arms. "Come on. Proper goodbye."

Danny and Dani grin, tackling him into the bed.

They roll around like that, laughing and squealing, before settling with Jason on the bottom and the Dannies piled above him. They all look over towards Dan, who scoffs.

Danny raises a hand, flicking a finger towards them in a beckoning gesture. Dan is yanked into the pile, where the tussle restarts all over again.

"This was fun." Dani grins. "I hope you visit the UK someday."

"What?" Jason pants, tired from the wrestling and realizing how out of depth he is in a cuddle puddle with three superpowered ghosts.

"Don't worry about it." Dan grunts, straightening everyone up, grabbing each of the Dannies under each arm. "Say goodbye, children."

"Goodbye children!" the Dannies intone mockingly, causing another ruckus of laughter.

"Bye, and thanks, I guess?" Jason's voice wobbles a bit, "It was a nice story, Mr. Dickens."

Dani giggles. "Thanks! If you like this, you should read the book!"

"You didn't even read the book." Dan rolls his eyes, the medallion glowing green once more to open a portal behind them. "You only watched the Muppets version."

"A masterpiece." Jason chuckles, getting a wink from Dani.

"Bye, Jason Todd." Danny waves as Dan floats them up through the portal, "I hope, this time, you're not quite so alone."

The portal fizzles out, leaving Jason in solemn silence.

And then the door to his room busts open, causing Jason to instinctively tumble backwards and off the bed to get cover on the other side.

When he peeks over the edge, Bruce is breathing heavily with Alfred right behind him.

"Y-you," Jason has never seen Bruce this flustered, "You pressed the SOS button twenty-eight times."

"Oh." Jason blinks. "Uh. Right."

"What…" Bruce and Alfred come to the bedside, looking warily around the room. "Did something happen, Master Jason?"

"Uh." Jason coughs, before smiling sheepishly as he picks himself back up.

"Would you believe me if I told you it was Ghosts?"

A Christmas Carol AU

Inspired by a prompt found in the @haunting-heroes-creative-games :) (i.e. back on my shit again)

When a 15 year old Jason, pissed at Bruce for taking Robin away from him, finds his birth certificate he realizes Catherine Todd is not his real mother.

Just as he resolves to go out and search for his birth mother, Jason finds himself accosted by three ghosts in his room, talking about A Christmas Carol of all things.

===

"So, what? We're gonna Christmas Carol him?"

Dan scoffs, crossing his bulky arms with an unimpressed look. "We hated that movie."

"I didn't." Dani chirps, disturbingly cheery, "I didn't see it!"

"We hate Christmas," Danny corrects, "But the movie was alright, and the logic is sound."

"I don't hate Christmas," Dani once again interjects cheerily, "I've never participated!"

"Sound my ass," Dan growls over her, throwing his hands up. "We don't even know this guy!"

"Minor detail." Danny insists, "Tuck can look him up."

"He's a fucking Bat, Danny." Dan scrunches up his face, pinching the bridge of his nose just like Vlad does when he's disgruntled with any of Dad's shenanigans.

"He's a Robin, actually." Dani pipes in, "And he's just a kid. How hard is it gonna be to pretend to be this kid's Ghosts?"

"You're a kid," Dan reminds her, crossing his arms, "And you didn't believe me when I told you sticking a fork in the outlet would shock you."

"I believed you," Dani sniffs haughtily, crossing her arms and pointing her nose up with a snooty voice, "The warning simply did not deter me from doing it anyway."

"We don't have to convince him we're his Ghosts, or even that we knew him before," Danny reasons, needling, "We just have to convince him that we're…"

He hums, pointing at Dani. "Past."

He points at himself, "Present."

He points at Dan, "Future."

Dani does a little cheer, arms up and twirling into the air before landing with her legs over Dan's shoulders, hands and head settling atop Dan's fiery, but harmless, hair. It flickers, before going limp into long white strands that Dani messes up by gently scrunching up the strands and running her fingers through them.

Dan lets her, huffing and looking weirdly like a downtrodden, wet cat. "Why am I future?"

"Because." Danny doesn't continue, because he knows it makes Dan annoyed. True to form, his scowl gets worse, like sucking on a lemon. They all know why anyway.

Dani grins, triumphant and knowing, letting her voice go real deep, "The future," she intones into Dan's hair, "is here."

"The future is now," Danny corrects her, but doesn't lose his smile, floating up to tuck a strand of her hair back behind her ear.

"The future is already here," Dan mumbles his correction, or is it a follow-up? "It's just not evenly distributed."

"How about you distribute some of those muscles, Gibson," Danny sighs, shaking his head "Waiting for puberty is such a drag, and we both know you didn't get the mass from Vlad's side of the family."

Dan makes a moue of disgust, but it serves him right. The consequences of his own actions, and whatnot. He looks up at Dani, who simply shrugs. "I think you'll do great." She leans down to give him two pats on the arm.

"So how's acting out A Christmas Carol gonna help us stop this Jason guy from blowing up?" Dani fiddles with Dan's hair, tongue poking out as she attempts a braid, "Will he even see us? Ghosts in this dimension taste funny."

"He'll be able to see us, it's magically rich enough for some ghosts to maintain a semblance of themselves," Danny explains for the third time. Dani and Dan hum at different pitches, and even though Danny is the common denominator he kind of hates that Vlad has more of a lasting impression on them. "The ectoplasm here is scarce and mostly corrupted, though, so it's rare."

"So there's lotsa bad ghosts here?" Dani eyes the messy braid she's made, proud, even as Dan's silky hair immediately causes it to fall apart, "Or 'mentally unsound' or whatever Frostbite called it."

"No," Dan grumbles, annoyed and indulging all at once, "Corruption begets ecto-rot, but the scarcity means they're not strong enough to actually retain their sense of self enough to rot."

"Shades," Danny explains when Dani looks even more confused, "There's lots of shades."

"Is this one of the Olympian dimensions?" Dani groans, flopping over Dan's shoulder as he sits down on the sofa, "I love Pandora and all, but if I see Zeus again I'm gonna lose it."

"It's one of the hero dimensions," Danny hums, taking over braiding Dan's hair the way Jazz made him when they were little, "There's a couple of Amazons walking about, but on the whole no Olympians."

"I don't know why he didn't just dump me in a Norse dimension." Dan leans back and closes his eyes to their ministrations. "Especially with my current occupation."

The three of them are sitting in Dan's apartment, a large loft studio located somewhere in the UK of the aforementioned hero-dimension. Alber-something, Danny can't remember. Doesn't need to, it being a different dimension from his anyway.

Dan doesn't have a lot of things: a sofa and TV, a bed in the corner, a decent but small kitchen. They're still trying to figure out decorations, but Dan on the whole is a minimalist so it's been slow going.

He's working as a bartender these nights, whiling away his odd existence now that his form has stabilized.

And wasn't that a trip? Learning that hey, adult lightning halfas shouldn't really be mixed with teenage ice halfas, actually!

Apparently, ectoplasm can become corrupted if you try to combine incompatible sources.

Apparently, side effects include (but are not limited to) unmitigated violence and a devastating need for vengeance.

Sound familiar?

"This dimension has a lot of time continuity errors," Danny reminds him, "Dropping you here gave the least amount of pushback."

"Yeah, yeah," Dan flaps a lazy hand, "Praise be the speedforce and flashpoints and whatnot."

"Plus," Dani adds softly, absent-minded as she watches Danny finish up the braid, "Lotsa heroes to help out if you relapse."

Dan heaves a slow, controlled sigh. Danny and Dani both pretend they don't notice.

"Is it bad?" Dan doesn't open his eyes, his voice is so low Danny can only hear him by virtue of his ghost powers, "Like me levels bad?"

"No." Danny shakes his head, leaning into his older self, his older brother of sorts, "He decapitated eight crime lords, killed a couple of assassins, maybe an innocent or two depending on your definition of things."

"Past tense?" Dan scrunches his nose. They all hate how confusing Time Shenanigans are.

"He's living as Red Hood, right this very moment."

"Red Hood?" Dani questions, "That his hero name?"

"Crime lord alias." Danny corrects her, "But he's more of a vigilante these days. Has a bat on his chest and everything."

"But it's bad enough to warrant a trip to the past." Dan points out, "Bad enough for us to try and persuade him. Does he relapse?"

"Not…exactly." Danny scrunches his face, not wanting to explain Clockwork's ambiguity.

Dani floats to spread over Danny and Dan's laps, sprawling out and purring like a cat. Self-soothing, though it's more for their benefit than hers.

"Like Dani said, there’re lots of heroes here, and he doesn't have powers." Danny continues, petting at Dani's soft hair, "The world doesn't end. He doesn't have the means to, even with the ecto-rot."

Danny pauses, and chooses his words deliberately and carefully. "And deep down, Jason Todd is a hero through and through. Relapse would be…difficult. His Obsession is similar to yours."

Dan lets that sit for a moment, but nods, Danny moving a little with the motion. The tension slowly bleeds out as they wait like that, enjoying each other's company.

"If the world doesn't end," Dani whispers, "Why is Clockwork sending all of us?"

Danny thinks on that, on his meeting with Clockwork. The Ancient's voice when he explained what would happen.

He thinks about Jason Todd, about Bruce Wayne, and Catherine, and Sheila. He thinks about Batman, and Robin.

He thinks about Dick Grayson and Tim Drake, about Damian Al Ghul, about Cassandra Cain, and all of Jason's Outlaws.

He thinks about a tattered uniform that stays up in a glass case for a long, long time.

Most of all, he thinks about Dan.

He thinks about regrets and one bad day away.

And then he stops thinking about it, because sometimes the past is the past, and other times, it's the future that never happens that haunts you instead.

"You know, Dani." He settles on, "I'm not sure. He probably has his reasons."

Dan leans heavier onto him, and they lean together like that, with Dani in their laps.

Ghosts of decisions made, unmade, and never to be.

Follow the story on AO3 here!

[samwinchestersno1fan]

Angel (00:47)- Dean Winchester X Fem!Angel!Reader

cw: fem!angel!reader, fluff, implied smut, guilt, not proof read, also posted on ao3

a/n: sorry i haven't posted in ages, i've been caught up with college. anyway, merry christmas!! and happy holidays to those who don't celebrate christmas. my glasses broke while writing this :(

word count: 582

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You stared up at the ceiling with only thin bed sheets covering your body. The room was dimly lit, the only lightsource being a lamp next to the bed. Dean lay beside you, on his side, staring at you like you were the most beautiful thing to ever exist. You felt a little ashamed, guilty, and dirty. You felt like you’d betrayed everything you knew, everything that you believed in. You felt like a sinner, it all felt so human. 

But it felt so good. 

No one had ever made you feel like that before. It was a completely new experience and you loved every moment of it. You didn’t feel shame or guilt when it was happening, you only felt pure bliss. No one had made you feel that good before. No one had taken care of you like that before. No one had made you feel that special before. 

No one had made you feel that special before.

But you let a human touch you like that. Taint you. Corrupt you. You really shouldn’t have. You shouldn’t have given in. But you did. You gave in because he made you feel things that you had never felt. You didn’t know exactly what you were feeling but you knew that it felt good. Dean made you feel special and cared for and you wanted more of it. 

You felt his arm around your waist, he pulled you closer. You were both warm, your face felt hot. There was a thin layer of sweat covering both of you. You never felt tired, but when you looked at him, you could tell that he was. 

Your eyes wandered over his face, admiring him. You couldn’t help it, you had always done it. You could see that his face was flushed, his eyes looked tired but he didn’t want to sleep. He wanted to look at you, admire you. 

You could only think about the way he praised you last night, telling you how well you were doing and how good you were for him. Thinking about the way he kissed you and marked your neck only made you even more flustered. You moved closer to him, burying your face in his chest to hide your embarrassment. Dean held you tighter, not too tight though. 

He didn’t say anything, neither did you, you didn’t want to ruin the moment. It was too perfect. You just let him hold you. You could hear his heartbeat, you could feel how hot he was. 

What you did wasn’t lustful, there were feelings, feelings that you hadn’t understood before. They were new and weird, you didn’t know how to express them. You never understood why your heart rate would speed up when he was around or why you always wanted to be around him and why you would overthink every little interaction with him. You never thought you’d give into any human desires, you never thought you’d feel like a human. You didn’t even really like them at first but it didn’t take long for you to become fascinated with them. Especially Dean. There was something about him that drew you in. You couldn’t stop thinking about him. You couldn’t stay away from him. 

It was annoying, really, how he took over your thoughts at the beginning. But now you didn’t seem to mind. You loved knowing that he felt the same way about you. But deep, deep down it still felt like you were doing something wrong.

[nightfurylover31]

It’s amazing with how little screentime Walters got, Sonic Movie 3 made me rethink his entire character! With new perspectives of his history, it changes everything.

Before, we just saw him as Olive Garden Guy. Just a standard government official meowing with our heroes. But after the third movie, he’s so much more.

MAJOR SPOILERS BELOW

As we speculated before, Walters was there during Shadow’s time. But he was not like the other officers. When he met Maria, he treated her kindly. You could get the vibe he was more of a rookie. Even though later on Maria and Shadow got into all kinds of shenanigans, there wasn’t any indication that this bothered him. He was one of the more down-to-earth members of the facility. Then came the day of the accident. When everything went wrong. When the military tried to take Shadow by any means. But Walters wasn’t one of them. He was against it. And one thing he said, made me rethink everything I thought about him.

“Those are children!”

That line. He says “children.” Plural. The only ones there were Gerald, Maria and Shadow. He wasn’t just referring to Maria. Despite what he was, despite being an alien, despite the experiments, Walters saw Shadow as a kid. Which makes what happens next even more tragic. He tried to stop the soldiers from hurting them, but his interference caused the explosion that killed Maria. Can you imagine how he must have felt? And that’s what led to Shadow’s imprisonment. Walter himself made the decision, with Shadow being too powerful to be left alone or be destroyed. It’s not an easy choice.

Walters takes no satisfaction in sealing Shadow away. He doesn’t want to do this. But with the power Shadow has, and what others could do to him, it’s the only thing he can do. This had weighed on his mind for 50 years. The death of a child, and a cruel incarceration of another. It’s like a double betrayal for Shadow.

Because of what happened to Shadow, that’s why he treated Sonic the way he did. He had to be as distant and unattached as possible with anything relating to the blue hedgehog to prevent what happened before from happening again. But with Shadow’s release, Walters had to confront past and tell Team Sonic the truth. The way he speaks is completely different. Not the normal military commander, but a man telling a tragic story. He even starts off with saying “Shadow’s story began a lot like yours, Sonic.” He noticed the similarities, that’s why he told the team.

And in his final moments, he gives Sonic the cannon key. In a way, he trusted Sonic and his friends with this more than G.U.N. Perhaps that was his way of making amends. He hoped that they could reach out to Shadow before G.U.N. found him. Maybe that’s a stretch, but I think, in the end, Walters made the right choice in trusting them.