#like hall of fame bad weeks

[howelljenkins]

Love you <3

i think you sensed I was having one of the worst weeks ever when u sent this.. thank you 🫶

[basu-shokikita]

Happy Birthday Dethday, Toki!

I've been busy this week so I tried to whip out something real quick for the best boy's birthday! 🎂🌈

Happy Birthday Toki, you make my world a better place 🩷

Birthdays weren’t exactly celebrated in the Wartooth household, so Toki didn’t know they were supposed to be important. He never received a cake for it, or even a congratulations from his parents. He didn’t have friends, either, so it’s not like someone else could’ve celebrated for him.

Birthdays were just another regular day as far as he was concerned, and that’s exactly why he had no idea when his was. So, when Charles asked him, a few days after joining Dethklok, he panicked and went with the first date he could come up with. September 1st.

Later on, he realized that he had seen that date on a movie displayed on the big TV screens displayed by an old store, right across the alley Toki used to sleep in. The children were happily going back to school to reunite with their friends. It was September 1st.

He couldn’t imagine it being that important, so he quickly forgot he ever gave that information. Nor did he think it would be relevant in the future.

…

“Toki! Hey, Toki!” Someone shook him violently. “Toki, wake up!”

“Mmh?” Toki turned around in a daze. “Pickle?”

“We’re late, Toki!” Pickles said, seemingly stressed. “Get up already!”

“L-Late?” Toki sat up and grabbed his pants. “Lates for whats?”

“The…The show!” Pickles urged him with his hands. 

Toki glanced at the clock in his room. “But it’s-”

“Just huhrry up!” The drummer dashed to the hall and out of Toki’s sight. 

“Wait, Pickle!” Toki put on the nearest t-shirt he found and followed him.

The apartment seemed near empty, which was weird because it wasn’t even 10 am. Because of their growing fame, they had moved to a new place in LA. It was more spacious than the Florida apartment and now everyone had their own rooms, but still you could hear what everyone was up to. Which made this silence even more ominous.

“Pickle?!” Toki called him, to no avail. Suddenly, he heard a scream coming from the living room. Freaked out, he ran towards the voice, hoping nothing bad had happened to Pickles.

When he walked into the living room, the words ‘Your time is up’ were written in thick, black letters on the wall. Whoever had written that, was still in the house because the ink seemed fresh. Horrified, Toki looked down to see Pickles’ body lying next to the message.

“Pickle!” He screamed and bent down to hold his bandmate. He seemed unconscious, was he even breathing? “Oh, no, Pickle…” Toki sobbed quietly. 

He didn’t have time to grieve, because a couple of footsteps behind him chilled his blood. The subsequent creaking on the floor confirmed it, there was someone else in the room. And he was fastly approaching him. Toki felt his breath hitch and his heart about to burst out of his chest.

Slowly, he turned around but before seeing the face of the assailant he was splashed with a thick liquid. He screamed and closed his eyes as he awaited for the substance to melt his skin or something equally deadly. When a few seconds went by and he felt no pain, he opened his eyes. 

“Huh?” He cautiously touched his face in fear and stared at his hands stained with red gooeyness. “Whats the-” 

“Happy Birthday!” Several voices went off at once, prompting him to look up. 

Murderface was right beside him, holding the empty bucket in his hands with a smile. Nathan, Skwisgaar by the table a handful of feet away, clapping in delight. Even Pickles, held between his arms, was cheering too. 

Toki felt close to fainting.  “What ams…what ams goings on?”

“Its yous borfdays, dildos.” Skwisgaar said, with a smile. “Remembers?”

Like a hazy dream, Toki remembered giving the information to Charles. Right, so today was September 1st. Still, it didn’t explain this demented display. He looked at his completely ruined shirt, entirely lost. 

“It’sch pig blood.” Murderface helpfully informed, with a grin. “Pretty brutal, right?” 

Toki was bewildered. Blood? He splashed him with fucking blood?

“Dude, look at his face.” Nathan commented, told Skwisgaar. “He totally didn’t see it coming.”

“Tolds you, he wouldn’ts eggspekts dis.” Skwisgaar snickered back.

“Oh, yeah, Pickles, the pretending-to-be-dead bit was a really good touch.” Nathan said.

“Nuh, that was forreal.” Pickles pointed at the bottle by his feet. “I tripped. Behd.” 

“Oh.” 

Groaning, Pickles got up, leaving the speechless Toki crouched on the floor. “Come ahn, Toki.” He offered him his hand. 

Toki grabbed it and Pickles pulled him on his feet. It happened kinda fast, though, so it left Toki feeling kind of dizzy.

“Check out the cake we made.” Pickles said.

“Yeah, it’s pretty fucking brutal.” Nathan agreed and Toki followed his stare.

There was a big black and white cake on the table, with a deformed thing on top that seemed to be his old Flying V. Red stripes decorated the sides and Toki assumed they were supposed to be blood. 

“I deskigneds its.” Skwisgaar said with his chest puffed up. “You ams welkomes.”

“Tis ams for mes?” Toki pointed at himself. 

“Well, ye!” Pickles patted him in the back, joyful. “Its yer birthdei, dood!”

“We schtill get to eat schome, though.” Murderface added, appearing on his other side.

“Wowee…” Toki was overwhelmed. “I…Is never…”

“Had such a brutal birthday celebration?” Nathan completed his sentence.

More like, never had anyone celebrating his birthday. He nodded with a smile. “Ja.”

“Obviouslies.” Skwisgaar said, putting a black cone with sloppily drawn skulls on Toki’s head. “Happies birthdays, eh, Toki?” He patted him on the shoulders. 

Toki looked down, unable to process all the attention given to him on a day that, until moments ago, was just like any other for him. He really didn’t want to cry, because that wasn’t brutal, and he didn’t want them to see his flushed cheeks either, because that was embarrassing. “Thanks you…” He muttered, unable to meet their eyes.

There was a short-lived silence, because the others weren’t any more able to deal with emotional stuff either, until Pickles shouted. “Alright, get the alcohooool!”

While the rest dashed to the kitchen to get drinks, Toki wiped his eyes surreptitiously. Honestly, it’s not like they’d notice if he cried with all the blood he had on his face. He looked at his cake again and noticed the date written under the guitar.

Guess his birthday really was on September 1st.

[m1ssunderstanding]

Understanding Lennon McCartney Rewatch Part 3.3

John having to get high out of his mind because he knows he's invited Paul to come play with him is so so sad. These are the same guys who used to sit facing each other on a bed playing guitars for hours, and now this is them?

Is John calling Paul “Jack Lemon” a reference to “some like it hot”? Because if so, I have questions. Anyway, when your estranged best friend shows up to hang out with you and a bunch of people, talking about being in love again and getting jizzed on is extremely normal and acceptable behavior.

This jam session is so fucking painful though. Paul's doing his best to just push through and get them to actually play something and John's just too far gone.

My theory: there's two reasons he did this. 1. He's avoidant and the last thing he's going to do is let on how bad he needs John in his life and how scared he is that if John gets back with Yoko that that'll be difficult. And 2. He couldn't live with himself if he didn't. If he'd kept it from John that Yoko wanted him back and later John cried to him about how much he missed Yoko or something? Paul can't have that.

John singing a snatch of Yesterday before a take of “Whatever gets you through the Night”??? Did either of them ever write a song where they weren't thinking about the other? Did they ever have a minute of peace without the other rattling the bars of the cage in his brain?

“Hold me Darling, come on, listen to me. I won't do you no harm.” Duh it's about Paul. Oh my gosh.

And with Bless You I'm always so torn. There are so many obvious references to Paul which the doc points out beautifully, but situationally it could also be about Yoko. Maybe it's about both of them in the same way that don't let me down is about both of them.

Anyway the cosmic visuals are gorgeous.

Why'd you have to phrase it like that though? Twice?

Hall of Fame moment. It's a high point for him career-wise and he chose to pull Paul into his spotlight. Not only to sing Paul's song, not only to name-drop him, but to publicly call him an official romantic title. Not “boyfriend” or “ex-wife” which both could've been much more mocking if that's what he was trying to do. But “fiance”. It's official and respected, but it's still got the lustful, unsettled, connotation that something like “husband” lacks.

Johann Weener, everyone. What a loser.

Everyone who still refers to Lennon Remembers like it's the fucking Bible listen to this. It doesn't go on for the next five years, let alone fifty.

John refusing to walk to blocks to sign the papers when George and Paul flew over the ocean. And only on the basis of astrology. He really didn't want the divorce. My heart aches for him. But he made his bed as they say.

I'm putting on my tinfoil hat again here, but I do just have to point out that one of John's first songs, “Hello, Little Girl,” has a line that goes, “you never seem to see me standing there”. And the earliest draft of WISHST, which was started soon after, answers that line. “I saw you standing there.” (Yes, it said you originally, not her). So maybe. Just maybe. That song wasn't just a Paul song, but a song that John knew Paul had put a message in for him. Okay, I apologize for the insanity. On another note, I do wonder if he ever found out what Paul thought of that.

Interviewer: ≈ at this point, do you like writing by yourself, or do you want to write with Paul again?≈ John: ≈well it's a bit of both. It's the same for Paul. We were talking about it a week ago. Okay, cool. So they definitely talked openly and honestly about potentially writing together again.

John, about their partnership, “There was always the feeling that someone was there if you needed it.” Paired with the gayest picture ever taken and then Paul singing “if I can do anything at all, let me help.” Thanks. I hate it.

John was so excited for New Orleans! What happened? I mean I have my theory based on May's book and the sudden shift in behavior. But it's pretty dark.

You know how crazy Paul is about John in interviews now? How he can't seem to keep John's name out of his mouth? John was worse in the seventies. He's promoting his Rock’n’Roll album, talking unprompted and romantically about how he met Paul, when the interviewer reminds him what relationship he's supposed to be romanticizing right now. So John remembers too and dedicates the album to Yoko who he's just got back together with.

Biconic quote.

Interviewer asks, after John's brought him up, if John's pleased with how well Paul's doing. John expresses his relief that Ringo has "found himself a niche" and then

I really do think that last bit sums up a big chunk of how John feels about Paul, and why he feels alright playing dirty against Paul or slagging Paul off. Why it would have been the furthest thing from his mind that Paul actually struggled or was insecure. Why Paul had to remind him, “I'm only a person like you, love.”

What an insane thing to think, let alone say. What if Julian had heard that? I'm pretty sure Julian and Paul weren't in contact, really at all, until the eighties, right? So John's doing better than he is at this point (I mean he's his dad, he should be). John is insecure about every possible thing and compares himself to Paul in every possible way.

Baby. He needed some serious help. The thing that sucks about being ahead of your time is that you also have to live in a world that's behind your needs.

And then. “There's always a friendly tv channel to turn to that's going to make you feel less alone.” I wonder if Paul “Call Me Back Again, John I know you're not that tired from the baby just let me in the fucking door” McCartney heard this? It's possible with how obsessive they were, but it's also impossible with how busy he kept himself.

Okay, here's the first story we've been missing about Paul experiencing negative emotions. And, of course, as always in this doc, it's paired perfectly with “Don't Let it Bring you Down” which is the musical mission statement of Paul's clenched-jawed smile philosophy.

"I tend to get a bit absolute in my statements." Yes, John. Yes you do. Another quote that Big Lennon fans should keep in mind.

John on the three weeks he took to decide if he wanted to continue the band after the first Hamburg trip: The others were mad because we could've been making money. Yeah, John, Paul suddenly had to work in a factory after he'd thrown away an educated, white-collar career (the first in his family) to be in your band. I'd be pissed too if you just didn't even bother to call. Anyway I just hate how casual John is about it. Someone who never had to worry about money is just never going to get that.

John doesn't even remember a ballpark number of how much they were making. Paul remembers exactly bragging to his professors that he was making fifteen a week in Hamburg. Sorry to go on and on about this right before Paris, but to me it's an important difference between them.

Anyway, the fact that Paris was more than just a vacation for them. The fact that – according to Stuart and John at least – they might not have come back. It's dizzying. They really thought about just running off together. I wonder what made them decide to come back and continue the band.

No offense if you do, but I don't personally believe in this stuff. What would the motivation have been for the tarot reader to tell him that? Either way, fuck him.

Gosh the live version of “Call Me Back Again”. You feel it, physically, how bad he wants this phonecall. And the desperation from such a successful man is fantastic. Literally, John, how did it feel to be the only man in the world that could get Paul McCartney to beg? “Pretty baby” “what can I do?” “Boohoohoo babe.” “I tried the operator, but I just can't get through.”

Reporter at the Wings over America tour: No John Lennon, no George Harrison, and no Ringo Starr, just Paul McCartney. And for everyone here tonight, that seemed to be plenty! Obviously he's loving this praise after all the negative press. Anyone would, and Paul needs it more than most people actually. But I bet part of him is like “stop. Don't say it like that, they already hate me enough as it is.”

How many times has John admitted that he finds Paul attractive? “It was no surprise, you know, when the kids – girls saw him, they go ‘ooh! Ooh!’ right away, you know?”

“I know it's true. It's all because of you.” Playing over this? Are you kidding me? Anyway I've never seen the picture version of this, so I thought I'd screenshot it.

But actually, in a way, the original written lyrics to Now and Then are less depressing than what he sang on the demo. “I know it's true, I'm still in love with you, and if I make it through, it's all because of you,” is obviously sad because they're both married to other people. But at least in that version, John's saying his own personal resilience to life's struggles comes from his relationship with Paul, which is nice. Whereas when John, who is sliding into a self-hating deep depression I'm comparing himself to Paul's phenomenal success, sings “it's all because of you” in a general sense, it almost feels like a callback to the ‘I'm shit and I couldn't do anything but be a Beatle (and ride Paul's boat)’ quote. Which is heartbreaking. I wish he could've recognized his own genius.

But yeah either way it's enough to make your heart heavy. If anyone needs a good cry, just go to the last five minutes of this. That should've been the now and then music video, but Paul's too scared of feelings. Which. You know. Considering how much it affects me, I can't even imagine how much it affects him. So he gets a pass.

“Why must we be alone? It's real love. It's real.”

[outerwilds-events]

YOU HEARD RIGHT CAMPFIRE FEST IS JULY 14 - JULY 20

Timeline

July 14: Ao3 Collection is revealed July 14 - July 20: Posting Period July 21 - July 27: Late Submissions Acceptance Period & Submit Event Feedback July 28 - Ao3 Collection closes July 29 - Hall of Fame is posted

Prompts

Day 1: Hourglass Twins, Angst, Slate, Locating the Eye Day 2: Timber Hearth, Fluff, Hornfels, Music Day 3: Brittle Hollow, Hurt/Comfort, Gossan, Warp Day 4: Giant’s Deep, Humor, Porphy, Sap Wine Day 5: Dark Bramble, Horror, Solanum, Ghost Matter Day 6: Space Station, Romance, Hal, Time Loop Day 7: Open Prompts

Lost Travelers Informational Guide

Q: What is A Fest?

A fest is a challenge in which participants choose a prompt or prompts from a list compiled by the fest moderator. It’s like telling tales, sharing art, and making music around the campfire. 

Q: Do I have to answer all the prompts?

Of course not, Traveler! That’d be a lot of work! You can answer as many prompts as you want over as many days as you want. You can submit a single work for a single prompt during the whole week, or try to hit them all. 

Q: Do I have to write for this?

Traveler, we aren’t all tale spinners and that’s a good thing! You can respond in any medium you want, art, fic, pod fic, playlists, or anything else you can think of is fine!

Q: If I do write, is there a word limit?

Nope. 

Q: Is shipping allowed?

Yes…just, let’s leave the hatchlings out  of it.

Q: Can I submit NSFW stuff?

Nope.

Q: What if I think someone is participating wrong or has a bad take?

Let the mod handle it. Seriously, keep the fandom wars away from the campfire.

Q: Do I have to tag my works for triggers?

Yes. Is that not just normal courtesy? 

Q: Are spoilers okay here?

Did they not cover that in training? Traveler, spoilers are fine as long as you tag for it.

Q: I have another question.

That’s why there’s an ask button, Traveler.

[eustassslut]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Eustass Kid doesn't do love. He does one night stands, hookups and lust. He simply just does not do love, it isn't a word in his vocabulary. Sure he sings about it frequently but those aren't songs Kid has written himself; those are Heat's songs dedicated to whoever he's in love with that week.

Love is real, he knows that. He's seen it with his parents, Heat with his many lovers and felt it in its platonic form for his fellow band members. But love just isn't for him. He has no need for it in his life. He's always seen love as a distraction; something that seeps into your life, overtaking it and soiling your motivation like a bad addiction as it conquers you. Kid can't afford distractions in his career when he's worked so damn hard to reach the halls of fame. "Love will always be a fucking waste of my time and energy," he reminds Heat every time the bluenette tries to encourage him to trial the dating pool, "Why would I pursue some relationship with some pathetic loser and force myself to fall in love with someone when hookups exist?"

Kid knows his outlook on relationships and love is unusual, practically unheard of when taking his family (a bunch of gross sappy goth and punk couples) into consideration. Eustass Kid technically has all of the makings to be a true romantic but, unlike his sworn brother Killer, he just can't stand any of that shit.

At least that's what he thought, until he meets you.

Kid has know about you since he was young, fresh into his career and full of dreams to become a star. It's incredibly hard not to know who you are considering how long you've been supporting them. You're loyal, he'll give you that, a proud fan since they were a small cover band filming in Wire's garage with dreams for the stage. He has no idea what could possibly possess someone to have such blind faith in the weird metal band with wacky hairstyles and horrible videography. I mean, Wire's head was cut out frame for most of their covers and Kid was rocking an attempt at a emo haircut. Why had you stuck around so long to watch them grow into their careers? Why were you still so dedicated to giving them all your money? And why did he find himself caring so fucking much about what you wanted?

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Happy belated fictober! There's been a lot of Kid Pirates as a rock band art lately so I have been very inspired to create a fic series based around them as a famous band, here is a sneak peak of Eustass Kid's fic.

[bittersweetarts]

Little Lamb - Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Aemond Targaryen x You (Fanfiction)

Word count: 3471 words

Summary: As a maiden of a noble house, it is your duty to wed well. But how will you manage to, with a curious and possessive Prince in the picture?

WARNINGS: Misogynistic behaviour (borderline sexist), dubious consent, no smut (because I am physically unable to)

Spotify Playlist – AO3 Page

Chapter 1: The Summer Solstice Festival

When you first came to King’s Landing as a young maiden, you didn’t expect much out of your stay – it was meant to be brief, and your parents had hoped that you would next return to Storm’s End betrothed. It was your duty as a high-born woman. Though your house is noble, much of its influence had been lost in the years subsequent to the ascent of Aegon the Conqueror, and you needed to secure a good match for its livelihood.

When your parents first received a letter from the Targaryen Family, inviting your household to to stay at the Red Keep during the Summer Solstice Festival, a religious holiday in the Faith of the Seven, your father had instructed you to attend with your mother and one of your elder brothers, Steffon. The pair would serve as your liaison between potential suitors, and this irritated you greatly. Independent in spirit, you could not reconcile the fact that your insufferable git of a brother, only a few years elder to you, gets to determine the path of your life, purely on the basis of his sex. Yet, here you were, en route to the capitol, trying to summon your optimism in bleak circumstances.

Part of a large family of fifteen, you were next in line to be wed, and truly, you were grateful that you have managed to escape the life of becoming a child bride. You truly are the epitome of a middle child, only occasionally remembered, and when you were needed, you could be found in the household library, your head firmly affixed to a book. You are of a reserved nature, found far from the center of affairs, and from a minor house, which is why everyone found it surprising that Queen Alicent had taken notice of you, most of all yourself.

“My Queen,” you bowed towards the famed pious woman, as you greeted her with your mother and brother at the entrance of the Royal Hall. It has been a little of a week since your arrival to King’s Landing, and you had little to show for it, much to the dismay of your chaperones. It was almost the mid-point mark of the celebration, and in honour of the Summer Solstice, a ball was being hosted. Ironically, it was Steffon who has garnered the most interest with regards to marriage, and you have slowly begun to prepare yourself with the life of being a spinster. It couldn’t be so bad, perhaps you could train to become a midwife, or whatever occupation you could find. In a way, you wish you could do just that, forge your own way in life, and create one that is truly your own. But you know that is just fantasy, and that if you are unable to return engaged, your parents would likely just arrange a partnership with the first possible suitor. Nevertheless, this was a harmless fantasy that you let yourself divulge into, which in all fairness, was not frequent, as you were more often than not, reading. The Red Keep’s library was your favourite place in the world, you had decided, as you know that their collection would keep you occupied beyond your lifetime, and when you were not there, you were found at the Royal Gardens, reading. Unrealised to you, this had earned you a reputation as a book worm, and had attracted the attention of the Queen.

“I must say, I am quite surprised, this is the first I have seen of you since your arrival, without a book at hand.” The fair woman spoke, next to her fair-haired children, observing the fair.

Unbeknownst to you or your family, this was the first light-hearted comment the Queen had spoken that evening. She had been an awful mood due to the unsurprising absence of King Aegon II from yet another Festival event, which was preluded with a heated argument regarding the utility of wasting treasury funds for religious events, at least that was the position of the ill King, much to the dismay of his young mother, a devout follower of the Faith.

This shift in mood had surprised the one-eyed Prince Aemond, who had otherwise been detached from affairs of the evening, by that point. He truly did not give a shit about inconsequential matters, such as balls where fat old men drunk themselves into oblivion, and naïve young women armed themselves with false flatteries, in hopes of wooing some nobleman, all while their duplicitous guardians manipulated these affairs.

However, this moment had intrigued Prince Aemond. For one, you were a foreign face, and as was your name, as introduced by your older brother. But more importantly, you were someone who had caught the attention of his mother, a woman who did not care for court social life in the slightest, unless for political purpose.

You tactfully maneuvered the conversation, deflecting attention from yourself whilst politely responding to the Queen. Thanking her for the invitation whilst leisurely bowing, Aemond could not help but notice how pleasing you appeared in that position, with your flushed cheeks and full chest on display. As you disappeared into the crowd, Aemond took mental note of you and your house, as well as the dress you were wearing, a deep crimson frock which accentuated your golden skin and glistening décolleté. It definitely was a satisfying display, and his interest had been piqued.

You had found the entire Targaryen family handsome, and each time you see them, you are always taken aback by their beauty. Queen Helaena could have been a Goddess, and all of the Princes in attendance had an unworldly quality to them. You could almost understand in a way why it was their dynasty that managed to ‘unite’ the Seven Kingdoms. Almost. However, you knew better, and it was not their beauty, but violence, fire and bloodshed that had chained the Kingdom together. And you were unsure of whether that was a good thing.

As the evening progressed, you slowly started blending into the background. A few dances with unmemorable men to appease your mother, and a waiting game until your brother was too intoxicated to remember your existence. You had brief conversations with suitors, monitored by your kind, yet stern mother, and you knew that any arrangement would ultimately be managed by her.

You were never good at maintaining conversations with peers, and found that you over-thought spoken exchanges too much. You preferred avoiding such internal conflict, and predictably grew weary of the ball, as you chose to not even interact with any of the other ladies in attendance. Though you knew it was unwise to be alone as a maiden, you decided that you were in need of fresh air and opted to go to the nearest vacant balcony, with a goblet of cherry wine at hand, whilst trying to hide from your observant mother. While leaving, you expected that no one would take notice of you. The one-eyed Prince, who had distantly observed you since the beginning of the night, giving you more glances than he should have, saw opportunity. Satisfied with this development, he stealthily followed you, keeping a considerable distance.

The Red Keep was a maze, and while you stumbled across many people, most were intoxicated and took no notice of you. You were a lady on a mission, and were in desperate need of fresh air. After an eternity wandering, regretting not finding the courage to ask one of the many knights you crossed paths with, you finally found refuge in a large empty balcony. As you approached the railing, setting down your sleeved arms against it, you took in a deep breath of fresh air, or rather air that is as fresh as it could be in King’s Landing suffocating weather. Your momentary peace however was disrupted, as a deep male voice echoed behind you, startling you.

“Like a little lamb on your own, are you not afraid of being taken advantage of?”

You immediately jumped around, and a small distance in front of you was the wayward Prince Aemond, known throughout the land for his coldness and unspoken cruelty; the kinslayer, and since the war, this reputation has only cemented further. Immediately, the image of the Prince riding his infamous dragon, burning down cities and armies came to mind. You could almost hear the screaming in your head. You truly were afraid, but you were also stubborn, and refused to be intimidated by anyone, including a Prince.

Taking a quick breath, you cocked your head while responding, forcing a smile. You hoped this could be interpreted as charming.

“Do I have anything to be afraid of?” You spoke, in a soft voice.

His violet eye was sharp, staring at you, and in the darkness, dilated. His expression was stiff, and he did not return your smile, his jaw remaining tight. Despite appearances, you did feel incredibly intimidated, but hoped that the Prince had not noticed your false bravado. There was a momentary silence, and you forced your smile to remain, while staring back. A fresh breeze past the two of you.

“I suppose not,” Aemond spoke after what felt like an eternity to you.

Keeping a small distance, he joined you, leaning against the railway, still staring at you. The silence continued, except that it felt deafening to you, thanks to your heartbeat. Aemond enjoyed watching you squirm. It was entertaining to him, your reaction, and it was not as he expected. Most women are afraid and flee, or throw themselves at him, yet here you were, doing neither. And Aemond did not like being unexpecting of others.

Finally breaking eye contact, you turned back around, staring at King’s Landing, while nervously cupping your goblet, still filled. You were not ready to break the silence, and to be frank, you were unsure of what was happening. How is it that you managed to find yourself alone with the likes of him? Why were you not more cautious and why did you have to leave on your own? This was a precarious situation, and you knew that it was better for you to be silent, so as to not offend the Prince, which in all likelihood, you would still manage to do regardless. And even if you had not managed to, you were not only afraid of him, but also that someone will inevitably find you two alone together. The soiling of your reputation felt inevitable now, and the prospect continued to frighten you. You start to fiddle with your goblet, now staring down at it, until a sudden movement catches you by surprise.

Swiftly, Aemond grasped the wine, chugging it effortlessly before tossing it aside, the glass shattering absorbed by the noisy environment of the celebration and the city sound. Frozen, you widened your eyes, and your mouth gapes open.

The Prince was attempting baiting you into breaking the silence, yet here you were, still hushed. Stepping closer, the Prince grazed a hand against your flushed cheeks and jawline, and now you start to violently tremble.

“So you are indeed afraid,” Aemond now smiled as he spoke, and you could not help but notice a wickedness behind it. Your false confidence had crumbled, and you felt like you were sweating profusely. Prince Aemond still continued to caress your face gently, with his rough hands, which felt cool against your boiling skin. His face was now a breath away, and his voice lowered as he spoke.

“I don’t mind though. In fact, I do believe some fear is healthy, helps people know their place” the Targaryen pauses for a moment, his fingers now exploring your lips. At this, you jerk and you bite down, hard. If it hurt, the Prince did not show his reaction, but merely jumped and glanced at his index and middle finger, which against the moonlight had a crimson glisten. Though this happened on impulse, you were in a state of shock for a moment, staring at the Prince’s hand.

When you realised how fucked you were, you tried to sprint, but failed to, as a hand shot up against your throat tightly.

“No. Behave.” Aemond drawled out slowly, his face touching yours’s. You could smell the wine in his breath, and there was rabid look in his eye. Though you felt faint, and you thought your voice would fail you. Luckily, you felt a survival instinct rush through you. You never doubted that the Prince was dangerous, but at that moment, you truly felt at peril.

Looking at his violet eye, you spoke back, your voice throaty due to the constriction. You also gently wrap your hands around his right hand, in hope that he may release it. Tears began escaping your eyes, and they slid down to Aemond’s hand. As they did, his smile only grew more fervent, and his eye become completely dilated.

“Why should I?” You weakly respond. Your mind was blank, and you had no clue what to say.

“That is an odd apology.” The Prince responded back, grinning. “I am sorry, my Prince. I am sorry for harming you.” He says mockingly.

“You do not want an apology.” You say. Tears continue streaming, though slower now.

“I don’t? Then pray tell, what do I want? I did not realise that you knew me so well, little lamb.” You did not miss the demeaning nickname, spoken with a mocking tone.

“No. You want to control me, that is what you men always want.”

Aemond smiled cruelly, lowering his gaze. “Us men, huh? You sure do seem well acquainted with the wants of men.”

The Prince’s implication was deafening, and his other hand suddenly grabbed hold of your waist, firmly but not painfully. You felt ashamed, and angry that the Prince had made you felt this way. Taking many rapid shallow breaths, you spoke harshly.

“You are vile and cruel.” Your hands now try to push against his chest, but fail. “If you intend to violate me, just do it already. Were you not taught by your Queen mother to not play with your food.”

At the mention of his mother, Aemond smile dropped, and so did his hand from your throat. The mention of Queen Alicent had broken his fervent fantasy, and he was brought back to reality. He was grateful that he had planted a knight to monitor the door and ensure no interruption, but he was not prepared to end his folly so promptly. The Prince had enjoyed this little game, and the most fun he has had in a long while, at least since the war ended with the demise of his not so dear half-sister and other kin. Yes, he was not ready for the folly to end just yet, and you had proven to be very entertaining indeed.

Though with one of his arms still around you, Aemond slightly distanced himself, and ran his free hand through your hair, as if you were a pet. Your brown hair was soft, and Aemond loved how he could sense a sweet earthy scent from it. You jump at this, and try to shove his hand away, but suddenly realise that they are clasped behind you, against your waist.

“You will not be violated, you are a noblewoman after all,” he says cryptically, smiling. “And why would I, when I prefer my women to submit on their own accord.”

“I am not yours.” You respond, your voice high and indignant.

With a mean laugh, Aemond responds. “Well-read people are supposed to be clever, are they not? Because you seem to misunderstand your position.” The Prince pulls you in crushingly, and now, you feel like you cannot breathe.

“Though you are a noble lady, I am a Prince.” He says sharply, every breath like a dagger slashing against the air. “By birthright, I can do as I please, and if I decide that you are mine, there is little you can do.”

“But as I said, I am not yours.”

Smirking, Aemond let you go. You were upset and angry, blinded by your emotion, and Aemond lived for your stubbornness. It drove him mad, in the best way possible.

“We’ll see about that.”

With that, the young Prince left, and as soon as you were alone, you crumbled onto the ground, hysterically upset and ventilating. After what felt like an eternity, a hand gently touched your shoulder, which scared you, causing you to scream.

Looking up, a knight profusely apologised. “My Lady, I sincerely apologise. Please do not be frightened.” You back yourself against the balcony railing, crawling away from him.

“Please, let me escort you to your quarters.” He says, keeping his distance. You were unsure whether you could trust him, and stared at him wide-eyed, trembling and hiccuping. Though the knight felt sympathy towards you, he had to follow orders, as it was his head on the line, not yours. 

“Please. I have been instructed by Prince Aemond to do so.”

At this, you panic completely, and wrap your arms around yourself, beginning to shiver even more profusely. You feel frozen in place, and feel incredibly faint. Closing your eyes, you try to will away this nightmare of an evening. For a moment, you believe it to be a dream, and you wonder whether actually it was, as your consciousness escapes you. In the background, you hear some voices and a heavy sigh, and you feel yourself carried away. You are unable to distinguish reality, and as you toss, you are met with a strong chest and shushing.

When you wake, you feel incredibly congested. It takes a few moments for your blurry vision to clear, and as you look around, you are relieved to be in your guest chambers at the Keep. That was truly one awful nightmare. Your head is pounding, and you come to the conclusion that you must avoid wine. It affects you too much, evidently. 

You see that you are still dressed in last night’s attire, and go to your bedroom’s private lavatory to refresh and prepare yourself for the day ahead. You put on a cream silk gown, light for the humid daytime weather. What is on today’s itinerary? Better to confirm with mother.

As you stroll into the modest living area, you are shocked to see Queen Alicent and Queen Helaena, sat with your mother, having tea. Your brother, who is normally noisy as an elephant, is absent from the room.

“And she finally wakes.” Your mother dramatically states, though you can hear a masked tightness in her tone.

You immediately bow before the Queens, very low, greeting everyone in the room, hoping that your shock is not visible, and that they take no offense. You are confused about what was happening entirely, until you remember your nightmare. Not a nightmare? Your heart begins to race.

“Please, sit.” A song-like voice speaks, and you realise that it is Queen Helaena who spoke, her voice mesmerising. You felt enchanted, and found yourself seated without second thought. You smile nervously, feeling inadequate next to such a beautiful person like her.

Despite your aloofness, Helaena launches into conversation, talking about how glad we found ourselves in attendance of the Summer Solstice Festival. Snapping yourself to sense, you attempt to begin conversation, understanding the importance of having the Queens in your company. Well versed in the Faith of the Seven and its history, you proceed to begin conversation about the theological origins of the Festival, and how it all began with followers committing sacrifices and offerings to the Mother Above, in hopes of prosperous harvests. “We soon understood the grander the offerings and showcases, the more blessed are the blessings.” The young Queen completely enraptured as you spoke, which relieved Alicent. Yes, my Aemond was correct. This would be ideal, the Queen thought.

In a kind, yet commandeering voice, Queen Alicent spoke as you finished. “I do not mean to deviate, sweet child. We were just speaking about this with your mother earlier, prior to your wake.”

The Queen took hold of your hands with two of hers, smiling whilst maintaining firm eye contact with you. It felt very familiar and comforting. In the corner of your eye, you see your mother’s face, and realise that there is fear in her. This spikes your anxiety.

“My dear, you are exactly the type of lady my dear Helaena needs as a companion. How do you feel about prolonging your stay at King’s Landing?”

Queen Alicent framed the proposal as a question, but you know that this is far from a request. You sincerely wish it had been, as right now, you recognise the danger ahead of you, yet again.

Taking a deep breath and summoning your voice, you respond, with fabricated joy.

“It would be an honour, my Queens.”

Hope you enjoyed my incredibly self-indulgent imagine!

I have been rotting my brain with Aemond Targaryen fanfiction for weeks and decided to take one for the team and write a fanfic myself. I do not claim to be a writer, but I also may continue writing more chapters, depending on my mental stability (the worse it gets, the more likely I am to write).

I have also posted this on AO3, incase you prefer that platform 

– Chapter 2

[ellana-ravenwood]

Buttslap ?/Batslap ! - Bruce Wayne x fem!reader

Synopsis : You’ve had the “bad” habit of slapping your husband’s butt every chance you get since almost as long as you two started dating. And sometimes, it gets you in trouble...

Not me, writing a fic the day before my wedding...Haha, I had time to relax before the big day, and I thought : “what could be better to truly chill, than to write a silly little fanfic ?” This started from an ask, and now we’re here. This is just a story for fun and not to be taken too seriously, one of those stories that exist purely because I told myself : “I mean, why not ?”. I hope you’ll like it nonetheless ! : 

Please, do not repost my stories anywhere else, under any other form. Do not translate and then repost them either. Thank you. 

My masterlists : @ella-ravenwood-archives​

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Habitus 

““Man is largely a creature of habits”, said the famous philosopher G. Stanley Hall and...ain’t that the truth ? 

It’s nice and stress free, to have habits. To do things a certain way, and to not change that way (as long as it’s effective). To automatically repeat certain actions. 

It’s comforting, even soothing, to know that at least, there’s some constant in your life. It’s a feeling of safety, almost. 

It’s one of those things you know you can always rely on, you know ?

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I will always, ALWAYS, slap my husband’s ass whenever I get the chance.”

There’s a silence in the room, as you end your little speech. Most people are just too stunned to react. What, did THE (Y/N) Wayne just say all that for real ? Or was it a collective hallucination ? 

Did you really just climb up the stage at this insanely crowded charity gala, and proudly told everyone that...you enjoyed slapping the famed Bruce Wayne’s butt ? 

Well. Yes. Yes, you very much did. Oh dear...

And the worst thing was ? You weren’t even aware of it. 

The past week had been quite busy, and stressful, and you did not want to come to this gala, but your position made it so you were kind of obligated to...and therefor, to ease your anxiety about it all, you might’ve drunk a little bit too much champagne (you didn’t need much anyway). 

Oopsie. 

Now here you were, talking about slapping your husband’s ass, and it being an action that comforted you greatly. How embarrassing. Fortunately, most people were just shocked that you dared to say all that, and would probably think they imagined it all.

Plus, Bruce, being used to your antics, just casually walked on the stage, and just took your hand and dragged you with him before you could continue to speak about how you worshipped your husband’s butt. 

Of course, as he took you away, you managed to give his ass a good slap, before turning to everyone else and saying with a big smile : “Soooo satisfyinnnnnnng !!”. 

Needless to say, you were mortified the next day, as your husband told you all about it, amused. You did remember doing that, and that it sounded like a GREAT idea on the moment and- oh my God, you hated those galas ! 

You were expecting the story to be on the headline of all tabloids, but fortunately for you, that day, Penguin’s trial was starting and the “downfall of the Cobblepot” was still more important than “(Y/N) Wayne says husband’s butt is great”...Pheww, crisis averted. 

This time. 

The first time it happened 

Slap !! 

Bruce stops in his tracks, and slowly turns around towards you. 

“Did you just...Did you just slap my ass ?” 

He asks, almost in disbelief, his cheeks slightly tinted of a rosy color that you find just too adorable (although, you’d never tell him that). 

“Um, yes ?” 

You answer shyly, afraid you went a little too fast. Afraid you offended him. Afraid you were totally out of bound. I mean. You did slap his butt without asking if you could, he didn’t consent, and that was bad...The more you thought of it, the more you were livid. What did you do ? How dare you ? You really just slapped THE Bruce Wayne’s ass, the fearless Batman’s butt cheeks ??? And without asking if you could first, at that ??? Outrageous. 

“Im-I’m sorry ! I didn’t mean to- I mean, I did mean to, but I should’n’t have ! I’m sorry ut’s just-”

It’s just you couldn’t help it. What. The man was climbing the stairs in front of you, showing his perfectly shaped butt to you, what else were you supposed to do ?? It was pure instinct. 

Here he was, all muscles and shapes in his black dress pants, and suddenly, your hand found itself slapping his backside as if it had a mind of its own ! 

You were feeling so awkward now, this was what, your third date ? How would you have reacted, if a man did this to you ? 

Oh dear. Oh dear. Were you one of those disgusting predator ?? Slapping people’s butt just like that ? 

Oh. But not just people. Bruce Wayne’s butt. Only his, had such a power of attraction on your hand. Which didn’t make you feel any better about your action. 

You were a little disgusted with yourself, the more you thought about it. And you-

“No don’t apologize ! Please. I-um...I liked it.” 

Short silence. 

You look at him. He looks at you. 

You raise an eyebrow, a smirk slowly rising on your face. 

He looks away, embarrassed. 

“You did now, didn’t you ?”

“Yes. You can- do it again, if you want.” 

“Can I ?” 

“Yes.” 

Ah. Here was the last barrier to it all : his permission. 

He was giving you permission to slap that beautiful, perfect ass. Who were you, to resist him ?

And that’s, when this all thing started. 

“A disgusting habit !!”

The kids hate it, of course. 

As if the fact their parents weren’t into PDA way too much for their taste, what, their mom just HAD to slap their dad’s ass whenever she could ?? 

Did you have no self-control ?!

DICK 

Dick was eight years old, when he saw you do that for the first time. It was still a time during which you tried to keep your affection for your husband as tamed as possible, especially in front of your boy (as the years went by, you just found it too funny, the way they reacted to the slightest touch of affection between you and Bruce, and you couldn’t help but mess with them). 

You slapped his butt, and he turned around smiling and then kissed you

And Dickie, oh, bless that young and innocent little bird...He thought the butt slap was just a way of showing someone you loved them ! 

Oh, oh the awkward moment when you had to explain to him that no, this was not what it meant, and that he couldn’t just go around slapping everyone’s butt (that kid loved too many people). 

That it was only when you “loved-loved” someone, that you could do that. 

The boy was horrified, of course. And even to this day, he remembers it. He often said that it was one of his childhood’s greatest trauma (and in a way, that joke helped him relativized his actual trauma). 

After that, whenever he would see you slap Bruce’s but, he’d yell : “Go love-love each other somewhere else !”, and you found it so adorable, despite your son being genuinely mad. 

Even now, as an adult, he’d still exclaim things like : “Oh please for the love of goooood, get a rooooom !!”, and other : “CONTROL YOURSELF, PARENTS !”

It never ceased to amuse you. Which was definitely not why you kept doing that in front of him, right ? *evil laugh*. 

JASON 

Jason thought it was funny. Ever since he was a child. 

In his mind, you slapping Bruce’s butt was a mark of affection. Was one of your love language. He’d always been more sensitive than others, as to what made each person’s way of loving others special. 

It always made him happy, when he saw the both of you giggle together because of it. Jason never needed much, in life. Just people to love, and who loved him back. Just family. 

Of course, just like his brothers and sister, he’d get annoyed by your “horny teenager” behavior sometimes. But the butt slapping ? It was never that. It was always clearly just a fun joke between you and Bruce. 

Ah, Jason couldn’t help it. If you or his dad smiled ? It was enough for him. He couldn’t be mad, when those he loved were happy. It made him happy, in return. 

When he got resurrected, and he felt abandoned by all of you, it was more painful than every thing else. He would’ve rather been tortured by the Joker for a thousand years, than feel this emotion again. All alone, unloved, forgotten...(or at least, so he thought). 

When he started to forgive you guys, and he first saw you slap Bruce’s butt after years and years of not seeing something like this...

It made him smile. Unintentionally. Subconsciously. 

A big smile. And it warmed his heart. Because-

Because those two still loved each other as if it was their first day together. 

Because his parents were happy. 

And, because the reason he was so angry at them, was because he loved them so much, that it hurt too strongly to think they abandoned him...

But small moments like this. His mom slapping his dad’s butt when she thought he wasn’t looking. Bruce unable to fight the smile growing on his lips. The look you both exchanged...

Love. 

And it just made him happy. As simple as that.

TIM 

Tim had decided since a long time that he would just pretend like his parents do not exist when they start to get all lovey dovey. 

As a result, you can slap Bruce’s ass right in front of him, or even kiss him, and Tim will just close his eyes, and pretend he’s somewhere else. 

The first time he brought Bernard home, Bruce, him and said Bernard were in the kitchen drinking some milkshake when you came in the room.

Tim instantly just turned his head towards his boyfriend, knowing what was going to happen. And sure enough...it did happen. 

You said : “hey guys”, to which they all answered “hey” (my love - Bruce / Mom - Tim/ Mrs Wayne - Bernard). You casually walked across the room, gave your husband’s ass a big ol’ slap (he acted as if it never happened), got yourself a smoothie, and then exited the room saying “bye guys”, of course not forgetting to slap his butt once more as you walked passed Bruce, and give him a mandatory kiss on the cheek. 

Tim said : “Bye mom”, still not looking in your direction. Bruce said : “bye my love”. And Bernard just stared, obviously stunned by what just happened. 

Later on, Tim would just tell him : “Ignore them, trust me, it’s just easier.”, and honestly, Bernard couldn’t help but love that weird family. Never a boring day, with them. 

DAMIAN 

He will NEVER let his father walk in front of you. You go up flight of stairs ? Either he’ll make sure you get in the front, either he’ll get in the middle of them.

His strategy was to simply not give you a chance to slap Bruce’s ass. 

After all, if you always did it “whenever you got a chance”, if he rendered nulle those chances...he could avoid seeing it, right ? 

He always managed to get himself between you and his father, to take your hand at the right time, and hug you, so that you’d stop the “slapping motion”. 

Bonus ? The fact that he could make his dad almost jealous because that meant that he always managed to redirect your attention on him. The attention that was supposed to be for Bruce, he’d get it with his hugs. 

It was sneaky, really. And it always worked. 

CASS

Cass was the most radical of them all. Unlike Damian, who would stop you in some clever way, she’d simply stop you unscrupulously. If she saw you approached her father when she was around, she’d just say : 

“No.” 

And stop you by grabbing (lightly) your wrist. Which always stunned you enough, that you just forgot about the butt slap. 

At one point, your only daughter took it upon herself to “train you” to stop doing that when she was around...and literally used a water spray to deter you from slapping your husband’s butt. 

Whenever she saw you coming from behind Bruce’s back, she’d spray your face with water, and say “no.” 

It worked...for a short while. You didn’t want to embarrass or annoy your kids too much, so if it bothered her that much, you’d just stop. 

You’d just stop ? 

Oh, but that was underestimating your “manipulation skills”. “No”, ugh ? Well, we’d see about that. After all, you don’t teach new tricks to an old dog. 

You over-exaggerated everything. Sighed whenever you saw your husband, staring at his butt, but not doing anything. It came to a point that Cass started to feel guilty, and eventually stopped reacting to you slapping your husband’s butt (well, she’d use the “Tim technique” of looking away, even though she still thought you two were disgusting). 

Your plan worked. No more spraying of water, no more “no”, or Cass stopping your wrist...Aaaah, it was almost too easy. 

Once, Dick said : “Ah, she got you too, didn’t she ?”, and Cass didn’t quite grasp his words before a long time. When she finally got it, an evening, while laying in bed, she sat up suddenly and exclaimed : 

“WHAT THE FUCK !!” 

DUKE 

Duke..never expect THE Batman to act this way. And even less elegant (Y/N) Wayne that he saw so many time in the papers. 

And yet, every chance you got, you’d give your husband’s ass a big slap, and leave definitely pleased with yourself. 

How weird. 

But to be honest, this wasn’t the weirdest thing Duke found out about that family. And in the end, Batman getting his ass slapped by his wife on a regular basis, was it really that weird ? 

Yes. No. Yes. It definitely was. 

The incident (you know, worst than that time you publicly admitted you loved slapping your husband’s ass)

“We warned you countless time, mother. It was bound to happen, really. You can only blame yourself.” 

It was rare, that Dick would call you “mother”. To be fair, none of them ever did...except when they were sort of disappointed in you. Kind of in the same way you’d call them by their full name when you were mad at them, you know ? 

The fact that your eldest just called you “mother” added insult to injury. It wasn’t like your son, to rub salt into the wound. But oh well...You did kind of deserve it. 

You definitely had it coming. 

But seriously, how could you know ? Those people were sneaky. It was part of their job ! 

You sighed, looking at the headline of most papers from Gotham, horrified : 

“Is (Y/N) Wayne cheating on Bruce Wayne with...BATMAN ????” 

“Gosh dang it”, to use an expression often used by a certain man from Smallville. 

So what, you can’t even slap your husband’s butt in public now ?? Well..You made a mental note of not doing it in public, anymore. Not when he was wearing the Batman costume, that is.  

What happened was : it was 6 am. One of those December mornings during which it was still very dark outside. You were going to an important early meeting, and your family was coming back from a night out patrolling. You thought you’d kiss them goodnight on your way. 

How were you supposed to know that a paparazzo was following you that day ? It was so early, what kind of psycho would do that ? Oh..but this was Gotham, of course. 

The picture that bastard snatch didn’t leave any doubt : it was clearly you, grabbing with your full hand a piece of Batman’s ass. 

Gosh dang it. 

How were you going to get out of that one ? 

It’s Tim, who suggested you pretend the picture was manipulated. He almost didn’t say anything, because well, yeah, this would serve you right...But also, he couldn’t bear the thought of anyone thinking something ill of his mom. 

Bruce took care of the rest. 

Using the latest tech available, he actually manipulated the picture to make it look like you were giving something to Batman. And he managed to convince everyone else that the picture of you grabbing his ass was faked. 

What would Lucious think, if he knew his hard work was used for that, uh ? 

Everyone knew you loved when paparazzi took picture of you grabbing your husband’s ass, because you thought it was funny. So it was easy to pretend as if the paparazzo managed to fake the picture using those. 

And then, everyone also knew that Bruce Wayne had a close “work” relationship with Batman, so the fact his wife would give Batman files wasn’t too crazy. 

Of course, the fact Gothamites seemed to vow a blind faith into your husband, made the rest easy. 

Everyone bought it. Oh, and that paparazzo ? Bruce made sure he wouldn’t be a problem (by giving him many pictures to sell, not by threatening him...at least, not officially). 

And that’s how you avoided a HUGE scandal. 

But did that incident deter you from slapping your husband’s ass every chance you got ? Absolutely not. 

The broken hand

“For the last time Damian, this wasn’t my fault !” 

“Oh yeah ? Well you should’n’ve contracted your muscles so much !” 

“I-I can’t help it !!” 

But nothing Bruce could say would stop his son to glare at him. 

“Who need muscles in their ass anyway ????” He’d say, angry that-

That his mom got hurt. 

You found it so funny. This situation was hilarious. Like, come on. You had a cast on your hand right now, because you slapped your husband’s ass a little too hard (and that man was made of pure muscles). 

Neither Damian nor Bruce thought it was, of course, which made it even funnier. 

Damian couldn’t bear any harmed be done to you, and though he knew it was an accident, he couldn’t help be a little mad at his dad. 

“Batman works out everything.”

Is what you heard your husband say, once, to Clark (surely, they were fighting about who had more muscles once again...pretty common...Ugh, men).  

But it was true, your husband worked out every single muscles in his body. He never skipped “leg day”, and definitely didn’t skip “butt and glute” day. 

His ass was hard. 

And you broke your hand slapping it. 

Come on, it was so fu*king funny !! 

Bruce, of course, hated when you were hurt. He always felt ill himself, when you’d get any kind of injuries. But that time ? He couldn’t feel (too) sorry, because oh my god you laughed way too much at your own mistake ! 

He could’ve gone without your son’s reaction, though...

Bruce had to hear about it for days. Jason and Dick also thought it was so funny (mainly the fact their little brother would keep bringing it up). But none thought it was funnier than you did. 

So. Yes. A broken hand. Ah, but did that deter you from slapping your husband’s ass every chance you got ? Absolutely not. 

The instagram page

It was a secret. 

A secret all of your children knew, of course. 

But they pretended they never heard of it, and had the account blocked on their personal insta feed. 

Yes. It was a “secret”. 

What, you might ask ? 

An instagram page, with pictures of your husband’s perfect butt. 

An instagram page...ran by you, of course. 

Because : “sharing is caring, it’s not fair if I’m the only one who can admire it.” 

So, no. You were not about to share him with anyone really. You wouldn’t be the only one admiring it, but you’d stay the sole “batbutt toucher” on this planet (other planets included, actually). 

But you loved to brag about him. Plus, you thought it was HILARIOUS to open such an instagram page. 

Of course, you were the only who found it funny. But oh well, it was worth it. And those accounts racked quite a bit of followers. 

Somewhere on the web, there was also a “BruceWayneThighs” page, and a “BruceWayneJawline” one...Mmm, wondered who made those, eh ?

More effective than Kryptonite 

Everyone remembers the absolute SHOCK on his face when Clark first saw you slap Bruce’s butt. 

It was at the League’s headquarters, of course. Not long after they discovered that Bruce had kids, AND a wife !! 

They were having an important meeting on a world class threat, when you arrived. You had come to bring Batman some lunch (that in itself was quite shocking). And as you were about to leave, you just casually gave him a slap on the butt, and said : “see you tonight hot stuff”, and WHAAAAT ?!

It rendered Clark speechless for a good minute or two. As if he had been hit by a fist made out of green kryptonite. By multiple fists, even. 

“Did she just- did she- did- dshe-idshe-ddd-ugh ?” 

“Once again, you shine by your uncanny intelligence.” Bruce sarcastically said, annoyed by this reaction. He disliked, when people commented on his relationship (some would say : maybe don’t make it so public ? But then, some learned that it was better to just not upset Batman too much).

Diana almost killed Clark, when she said : “I wouldn’t mind if she slapped my butt.” 

Who were those people ?? The mighty Superman was about to have a brain fry, but then he noticed Bruce. Was he...pouting ? 

And was it because of Diana’s comment ? 

The woman was smirking mischievously, clearly pleased with herself. And the pout on the Batman was growing. 

That day, Clark decided to pretend as if nothing happened. On one side, because he couldn’t fathom the Batman getting his ass slapped by his wife, and on the other side, because him and said Batman had just become friends, and he didn’t want to make him pout further by commenting his personal life. 

************

Clark never got used to it though. 

Over the years, he saw you countless time slap your husband’s butt, but he could never quite register the fact that this was Batman. 

Right there. 

Batman. 

Him. 

🦇👨, himself. 

Getting his butt slapped (and clearly enjoying it, although he’d never let that comment slip as he didn’t wanna risk Bruce glaring at him). 

It was odd. At the same time, it made him more human. 

And though Superman would never get used to the idea of you just casually slapping your husband’s ass whenever you got the chance, he never thought it was something that you shouldn’t do (as weird as it sounded). 

************

To reassure Bruce, except for Diana who reenacted the “I wish that were me” meme, every single member of the JLA went : “👁👄👁” when they first saw you do it. 

They all got used to it, unlike Clark, but still. It was quite a shock, the first time they witnessed it. It was the way you did it so naturally, and how Bruce didn’t even react, that got them...

Unbeknowst to neither you nor Bruce, they all started to call that habit of yours “the batslap” (and thought they were very clever for their play on words...Butt slap, batslap...Oh yes, there was a reason why Bruce, was considered the smartest) 

“I will never stop, you cannot make me stop.”

Over the years, even after many “incidents” and “troubles” born from you slapping Bruce’s butt, it never even once came to your mind to stop doing it. 

It became one of those habits that was actually comforting to you. As if you and Bruce could be a normal couple sometimes, with your own little silly “inside jokes”. 

Hell, when he was sure no one was around, Bruce would literally put his ass out just for you to slap...because as odd and ridiculous as it could sound, it became one of those thing that made you, you. 

The woman he fell in love with.

Whom, even during the worst moments, would be there to cheer him up (and vice versa). 

The woman who never hesitated once to slap THE Batman’s butt. THE Bruce Wayne’s ass. How many people like that existed in this world, uh ? 

Yes, doing that got you a lot of time in troubles. Got you in delicate situations, in awkward ones, and even, a few time, dangerous ones (you didn’t wanna talk about it). 

But never, NEVER would you walk pass your husband without slapping his butt. Nothing could stop you from it. No one could, either. You’d always find a way. 

As you said all those years ago, it was as if your hand and his butt were magnetically aligned.  

Of course, you’d exaggerate greatly all that matter. You found it funny, really. Besides the fact that you just liked slapping his butt, that is. 

And Bruce ? Oh, Bruce wouldn’t have it any other way. 

His ass, was yours to slap. 

The end.

________________________________________________

Told you, it was gonna be dumb haha. Still had fun writing it. I’m getting married tomorrow, and took advantage of a chill time today before the mayhem to sit down a few minutes and write...I hope you enjoyed this story :). As per usual, comments/reblogs are beyond appreciated <3. Thank you for reading !

[jo-harrington]

Corroded Coffin Fest - Day 11 - Jeff

Summary: Jeff has big plans for the future.

Word Count: 987

Rating: T

Warnings/Themes: Nervous!Jeff, Friendship, Banter

Check Out the Main Post for @corrodedcoffinfest here! Even if you didn’t start on Day 1, you can still join!

Tagging: @the-unforgivenn at her request.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

Jeff was surrounded by optimists.

That glass-half-full mentality, the perpetual prospect of positivity, the constant confidence in the future.

You could say that he attracted them.

And he needed that sometimes, because he was decidedly not one.

He was worried, a little nervous, a planner more than a doer. His cousin Richie was much more impulsive and got him out of his shell, sometimes even by force, but even that was a little bit of a misconception.

Jeff wasn't nervous or shy--well, maybe nervous--he was just...thinking of the right things to say. Making sure that he didn't fumble his words or insult people or embarrass himself. Otherwise the world might just crumble around him.

It took becoming friends with Eddie Munson to help him loosen up a bit. Get used to failure, go with the flow, stop being so worried about making the wrong move because his friends were constantly making the wrong moves.

But it also helped Eddie and the others be a little more...structured. They did homework during their lunch periods and study halls more, actually had plans for band practice instead of just winging it.

Ronnie always said, from the moment Jeff joined them, that they needed him--that Eddie needed him--to bring them down to earth sometimes. Their harebrained schemes and dreams that were larger than life. It only got worse after the whole demo tape fiasco, and worse still once Ronnie and Doug graduated.

But it had always been a good feeling.

Being needed.

Wanted.

Being the one to look after everyone in some way.

Thats why it felt really weird and wrong to be the guy to let them all down.

Jeff stressed over it for weeks.

It felt great stepping out of the guidance office, a moment of surety and security, plans for the future locked in place.

Then he remembered that he'd need to tell everyone.

It haunted him during lunches and Hellfire, while they helped Dustin set up things for the science fair, during practices and gigs. All the way up to Spring Break.

"It'll be fine," his mom--an optimist--told him one night when she found him in the kitchen with what was essentially a script with all the ways he could break the news to his friends. "They won't be upset."

"Sure," he scoffed.

"You act like I've never met your friends before," she soothed. "Those boys would move heaven and earth for you."

And he knew they would...this was just different.

Then the unexpected happened.

On the last day of class before Spring Break, Mr. Bergstrom passed out slips in homeroom that all the seniors needed to fill out.

"For the graduation programs," he explained. "If you've decided which colleges you're moving onto...trade schools...or other..."

"We definitely fall into the other category," Eddie snickered from beside him. "On our way to fame and fortune."

Jeff laughed nervously and then stared down at the slip, horrified.

When the bell rang, he bolted out of the classroom so fast, he barely heard Eddie calling after him.

Come lunch, Eddie stopped him right outside of the cafeteria.

"I wanna know what all of that was first period," Eddie demanded, no malice in his tone. More worried than anything.

"I, uh," Jeff shrugged. "I just wasn't feeling great this morning. I think the milk went bad. My stomach kind of hurt."

"Uh huh," Eddie scoffed. "Likely story. You're an expiration date snob; remember when I almost ate that expired Twinkie and you yanked it out of my mouth."

"Who knows how long it was in your van for!" Jeff argued.

"Twinkies don't expire!" Eddie shouted back, earning looks from their classmates passing by. "It doesn't matter. I think you're hiding something and I wanna know what it is."

His heart practically stopped in his chest.

"I know I've been kind of a hardass lately," Eddie continued softly. "At practice and...with Hellfire..."

And he felt sweat start to trickle down his forehead.

The longer Eddie talk, the more he felt the dread overtake him, until he blurted out,

"I signed up for summer classes at Tri-County Community College!"

Eddie stared at him like he'd grown a second head.

"And a few in the fall," he went on. "Gareth won't graduate til next year and we won't get big gigs until then. I want to take some classes and maybe...learn some business stuff to help us? Give us the best shot. Or maybe have something to fall back on if it really doesn't work out."

It was so silent, aside from his heaving breaths, that you could hear a pin drop.

"Thats..." Eddie struggled for words and Jeff closed his eyes and braced himself for the impact. "That's great!"

Jeff's eyes shot open again and saw the brightness in his friends eyes, the big shining smile.

"That's huge, I'm proud of you man," Eddie patted him on the shoulder again, gently this time. "Damn I don't even know what to say. You better keep Tuesdays and Fridays free."

"You're not mad?" Jeff questioned.

"What?"

"Or sad..."

"Why the hell would I be mad? Or sad?"

"Because Ronnie went off to college too," Jeff explained.

"Ronnie went to NYU on a scholarship and I was proud of her too!" Eddie shook his head. "Got the hell out of dodge. Damn, if anything I was jealous."

Jeff listened as Eddie rambled on about futures and plans how Jeff was the brains of the operation.

"I just figured," he interrupted Eddie. "You might think I was leaving the dream behind. Our dream."

"Jeffy, if anything you're looking out for it. And even if you were second guessing the band...I'd wanna support you."

Eddie pulled him into a quick hug with another pat on the back.

"You're my best friend man."

And the only thought running through his head as he clapped Eddie's back with the same affection?

Maybe being an optimist wasn't so bad after all.

[sassenach77yle]

||COUNTDOWN ||SEASON 1 EPISODE 14 || THE SEARCH ||

#83daysofoutlander☆

Traveling openly—and slowly—along the main roads, we stopped at every croft and village and hamlet we came to. There he would make a quick survey of the local populace, round up anyone suffering from illness or injury, and bring them to me for treatment. Physicians being few and far between in these parts, there was always someone ailing to attend to. While I was occupied with my tonics and salves, he would chat idly with the friends and relatives of the afflicted, taking care to describe the path of our journey toward Beauly. If by chance there were no patients to be seen in a place, we would pause nonetheless for the night, seeking shelter at a cottage or tavern. In these places, Murtagh would sing to entertain our hosts and earn our supper, stubbornly insisting that I preserve all the money I had with me, in case it should be needed when we found Jamie. Not naturally inclined toward conversation, he taught me some of his songs, to pass the time as we plodded on from place to place. “Ye’ve a decent voice,” he observed, one day, after a moderately successful attempt at “The Dowie Dens of Yarrow.” “Not well-trained, but strong and true enough. Try it once more and ye’ll sing it wi’ me tonight. There’s a wee tavern at Limraigh.” “Do you really think this will work?” I asked. “What we’re doing, I mean?” He shifted about in the saddle before answering. No natural horseman, he always looked like a monkey trained to ride a horse, but still managed to dismount fresh as a daisy at day’s end, while I could barely manage to hobble my horse before staggering off to collapse. “Oh, aye,” he said, at last. “Sooner or later. You’re seein’ more sick folk these days, no?” This was true, and I admitted as much. “Well, then,” he said, proving his point, “that means word o’ your skill is spreading. And that’s what we want. But we could maybe do better. That’s why you’ll sing tonight. And perhaps …” He hesitated, as though reluctant to suggest something. “Perhaps what?” “Know anything about fortune-telling, do ye?” he asked warily. I understood the reason for his hesitancy; he had seen the frenzy of the witch-hunt at Cranesmuir. I smiled. “A bit. You want me to try it?” “Aye. The more we can offer, the more folk will come to see us—and go back to tell others. And word will spread about us, ’til the lad hears of us. And that’s when we’ll find him. Game to try, are ye?” I shrugged. “If it will help, why not?”

I made my debut as singer and fortune-teller that night at Limraigh, with considerable success. I found that Mrs. Graham had been right in what she had told me—it was the faces, not the hands, that gave you the necessary clues. Our fame spread, little by little, until by the next week, people were running out of their cottages to greet us as we rode into a village, and showering us with pennies and small gifts as we rode away.

“You know, we could really make something of this,” I remarked one evening, stowing the night’s takings away. “Too bad there’s no theater anywhere near—we could do a proper music-hall turn: Magical Murtagh and His Glamorous Assistant, Gladys.”

Cap 34 ~outlander

[valleydean]

Chapter 17 [Read Here]

CHAMPION Part III of Heavyweight a deancas boxing au by valleydean (emmbrancsxx0) read from the beginning | playlist

SUMMARY: Brooklyn, 1933. Dean Winchester, the number one contender, trains to become the next Heavyweight Champion of the World, and this time he won't let anything get in his way. Title holder Castiel Novak has second thoughts about retiring, especially when someone from his past arrives in New York and asks for his help. Meanwhile, a new contender rises to fame and threatens to complicate both of Dean and Cas' ambitions - and their relationship.

CHAPTER PREVIEW:

Dean strolled into the ICU with a box filled with Italian pastries in one hand and a white paper bag in the other. The ward was the same as ever: the frequent announcements over the speakers paging a doctor to a particular room, employees rushing around, nurses guiding slow-walking patients along the hallway for their daily exercise, and all the other intricacies Dean had become accustomed to over the last week.

He smiled and greeted some of the familiar faces, staff and patients alike, as he walked. Some of the newer faces gawked at him, a second away from asking for an autograph. Dean winked at one of the gaping kids as he passed by.

“Billie. How’s my favorite nurse?” Dean schmoozed when he approached the ward’s nurses’ station.

Nurse Billie barely glanced up at him from her paperwork. “You ask all the other nurses that, too,” she said, unimpressed.

“But do I make sure the bake shop puts in the sprinkle cookies the other nurses like? Huh?” he asked while placing the box on the counter.

She looked up at him fully, her expression still mostly neutral but also vaguely annoyed. All the same, she took the box and set it before her.

Dean slapped the counter as he slid away, sure that Billie would distribute the assorted pastries to the other nurses, like she’d done every day for the past week. “Enjoy.”

He walked in the direction of Cas’ private room toward the end of the hall, the best and biggest one money could pay for. On the way, he spotted Nurse Tessa walking in the opposite direction, her nose in a chart.

“Hey,” he called, stepping in her path. He lifted up the paper bag. “One cannoli from yours truly.”

Tessa smiled, accepting the bag. “You’re gonna make me fat.”

“Just a thanks for all your hard work,” he told her. Nodding to Cas’ room, he added, “‘Course, I’m gonna have to bring you two a day after he wakes up. Trust me, he’s not gonna be too pleasant to deal with.”

Tessa breathed out a small laugh.

Dean’s smile flickered despite how much he tried to keep it plastered on his face. Maybe she hadn’t known it, but he’d been fishing—hoping and praying she’d tell him that Cas was awake and everything was fine.

But she didn’t say that. She didn’t say anything.

Voice smaller, he asked, “How’s he doing?”

“Same as yesterday,” she said, her tone gentler. She must have seen the way Dean’s face fell, because she reminded him, “That’s not a bad thing, Dean. He’s healing well.”

A bitter smile twisted Dean’s face. “That you can tell.”

She gave him a tender look, touching his shoulder, before walking off. Dean stood still for a second, trying to brace himself against the tidal wave of emotion threatening to swell over him and trap him in its undertow. If he let that happen, he just knew he’d let himself drown.

He opened the door to Cas’ room and closed it again behind him, dropping the cheerful act he’d been putting on for the public.

The room smelled sweet and floral with how many bouquets of flowers were in vases on every surface. The orderlies did a good job at taking away the decaying ones, but it seemed like more fresh flowers were delivered every day. The same was true for greeting cards and handwritten letters from fans all over the world wishing Cas a speedy recovery. Dean had stopped reading them days ago and started tossing them into the discarded pile of envelopes on the windowsill.

A few of Jack’s drawings were around, closer to the bed. He brought a new one pretty much every day when he visited after school.

Crowley’s assistant had sent over a basket full of fruit and chocolates, as if that would somehow make up for the fact that her boss was partly the reason Cas was in the hospital in the first place.

Michael, Gabriel, and Balthazar visited most days. Anna had come twice, both times with Dean watching her like a hawk. Sam and Eileen had accompanied Dean for his visits a few times, always bringing Maura with them. Sam never said it was because he didn’t want Dean to be alone, and Dean appreciated that it went unspoken.

About a thousand people had sent gift baskets and casseroles to the house. Dean had started turning them away, because how many damn chicken casseroles could a person choke down?

And then there were the paparazzi. They followed him pretty much everywhere. Even now, they were camped outside the hospital. Dean had to call the police once or twice to get them away from the house. The damn vultures were looking for all the information they could get about Cas, and about what plans there were for the future of his career.

Balthazar had issued a statement days ago that, until Cas was fully recovered, all plans for the announcement they were supposed to make had been put on hold. The NBA didn’t make any comments either, and Dean sure as shit wasn’t going to talk, no matter how often the reporters asked him if he was going to make a bid for the belt “now that the way is clear.”

For the past week, Dean had barely left the house except to go to the gym or visit Cas. Whenever anybody asked, he said it was to avoid the paparazzi. But he wasn’t just hiding from them. He was hiding from everyone. From their sympathetic looks, somber and quiet, as if Cas was already dead.

Most of all, he was hiding from his own thoughts. The ones that said Cas was never going to wake up. The ones that cringed every time the phone rang and he was sure it’d be the doctor telling him Cas was dead. The ones that told him Cas had left him because he’d thought boxing was more important than their life together, and this time, Dean would never get him back. The ones that told him to start making funeral arrangements.

Those thoughts were a lot harder to hide from as he lay awake at night and looked at Cas’ empty side of the bed. Or when he looked at the mess Cas had left in their dresser drawers because he always expected Dean to fold the clothes back up. When he was brushing his teeth and saw Cas’ toothbrush and razor and aftershave.

Dean tried to banish all of those thoughts now as he approached Cas’ bed. Since Cas had first been checked in, some of his stitches and bandages had been removed. The patch over his eye was gone, showing off the stitches on his eyelid and the angry, puffy redness around them. Most of his bruises had run their course from deep blacks and purples to sickly greens and yellows. Some were completely faded, but others were more stubborn.

His facial hair had grown in, and Tessa had told him they needed a few more cuts on his jaw to heal before they could shave him. But at least some of the color had returned to his face. His breath wasn’t wheezy anymore, either.

“Morning, babe,” Dean said, leaning over him to press a kiss to his hairline. As he did, Cas’ ring, which Dean had put on a leather cord around his neck, slipped out from beneath his collar. Dean left it out and sat in his usual chair next to the bed.

He placed his hand on top of Cas’, still bandaged.

“Jo was over last night. She says hi,” Dean said, because Tessa had told him that talking to Cas would help. Dean didn’t know if that was true, but it couldn’t hurt—and it made him feel a little saner.

For the first time, he wondered if Tessa had meant it would help Cas or it would help him. But he guessed it didn’t matter.

Dean would keep talking, even though sometimes, he didn’t have anything to say. He just rambled and hoped that Cas would wake up and tell him to shut the fuck up.

“The dance hall she’s working at is having a week of jazz performers next month. She said Billie Holiday’s supposed to headline one night. We should go to that. It’ll be fun.”

If Cas was awake by then.

Dean dragged in a breath, hearing it rattle inside his chest. He pushed a smile.

“Anyway… Jack tell you about the new book he’s reading for school?”

[anonymousoneshots]

Thing For Me (Part 3)

Roman Reigns x Reader

Rating: 18+ NSFW

Warnings: Dry Humping, Kissing, Public

A/N: I know this is a shorter chapter, but I have so many ideas for this. This is just the beginning. Let me know if you want to be part of the squad! And please let me know your thoughts about that ending. 😉

Squad: @pusiqw @fame-ass-ers @lux-angels @fictitiousbeing @southerngirl41

It was Saturday of the following week and you were heading into the backstage area at a house show, your first event since Wrestlemania. Your encounter with Roman had consumed your every thought. You couldn’t shake the feel of his fingers gripping your bare thigh, or his voice so close to your ear. You also couldn’t forget how quickly his demeanor had changed, and how awful he made you feel before you left. Your mind was chaos, and Roman was in every whirlwind.

Why had he acted so crass? How could he be so magnetic and warm, then suddenly go rigid? Was I a disappointment? God, he was probably grateful for Jimmy’s interruption and to be rid of having to please me. I was a fool, and this was most definitely a game to him. I fully expect everyone here to know what we did, how I threw myself at him. How many girls has he run dry? And if he’s really that bad, then why does my stomach flip at the thought of his touch, why does my mind keep defending him? How do I shake this thing for him?

Despite your hurt, there was a piece of your heart that leapt at the thought of seeing him. What a mess he’s made of me. You turn the corner lost in your thoughts, and nearly walk right into him.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you say before realizing who it was. You glance up and meet his gaze, and your stomach drops. He looks bored. You wait for him to say something, but instead he steps past you and continues walking down the hall. You stand there for a moment, stunned. The bastard didn’t even acknowledge me. What is his problem? You sigh and shake your head, continuing down the hall, which now seems infinitely emptier.

The whole night you were avoiding everyone. You refused to meet anyone’s gaze, and kept to yourself with your head low. You just had to make it until the end of the night, then you could continue avoiding everyone until Monday. You pretty much had a successful night of no interaction until you best friend, Serena, spotted you walking and jogged over. She was one of the seamstresses for the women’s ring gear.

“[y/n]! Wait up. You look like someone ran over your dog,” she remarked. You stop walking and begrudgingly turn to face her. You suppose you did look rather distant, maybe even a little disheveled.

“I’m fine,” you managed, and smiled at her. In an effort to change the subject, you pointed over to her work station.

“Who’s gear are you fixing up today?” She narrows her eyes at you, but thankfully decides not to pry.

“Becky’s, and I’m way behind. I’ll catch up with you later?” She kisses her fingers and lightly touches them to your cheek before turning around and heading back to work.

“Perk up! Roman’s match is next,” she calls over her shoulder.

Despite yourself, you watch Roman’s match. Despite him being an asshole and leaving you in the dust, you couldn’t turn away. He was thriving off the heat from the crowd, and you caught your lips turning up at that cocky, satisfied grin that plastered his face as he circled his grounded opponent. He was a wolf, and your skin was prickling at the memory of him eyeing you like that. Shaking the sensation creeping up your thighs, you click off the TV and turn away. Screw him.

Roman’s match was the last of the night. After packing up your things, you moved to head out of the arena as quickly as possible, throwing on a pair of black sweats over your ring gear. Winding through the labyrinth that was backstage, you pass lots of familiar faces. And each time you glance up at a face that isn’t Roman, your heart stumbles. You’re nearly at the exit where the buses are waiting for you when you overhear a conversation.

“The Bloodline don’t lose, man!” It was Jey’s voice. You quickly steal behind an empty hallway and peer around the corner, listening. Jey and Jimmy were standing in front of Roman, clearly fired up about something.

“Wait until Monday, we’ll hand his ass to him,” Jimmy chimed in. Wait. Roman… lost? Your gaze drops to the floor as your eyebrows furrow, not grasping the fact that he actually lost. That hasn’t happened in years. A small laugh of disbelief escapes your lips. Serves the asshole right. Karma is a God. You glance up to notice Roman’s eyes drilling into you. You’d been made. Blood rushes to your cheeks as you quickly turn away and start down the hall. Shit.

“[y/n].” This was some serious deja vu.

“Why is it I’m always catching you sneaking?” He questions you.

“You lost tonight,” you say, and turn around to face him. This is the first conversation you’ve had since you stormed out of his room.

“You sound surprised. Didn’t watch your Tribal Chief tonight?” Roman teased, a wolfish grin playing at the corner of his lips. You unconsciously squeeze your thighs together. Roman referring to himself as Tribal Chief made heat rush to your core. You tilt your chin up defiantly, refusing to let yourself melt for him

“Maybe you’re to blame for my loss.” Roman steps closer to you, and you can feel the warmth radiating off his body. You can smell the scent of his sweat mixed with soap, teasing your senses. Roman leans in closer to you, speaking softly so only you can hear.

“Maybe you need to be punished.”

“And you need to get over yourself,” you retort, despite the pooling at your core. “I’m not a toy, Roman.”

You turn on your heel and start to walk away, but he grabs your wrist and whirls you back around. A playful smile rests on his lips.

“But you can be. And I promise you’d like it.”

You immediately drop your gaze, extremely flushed. So much for defiance. Roman is still gripping your wrist, holding you in place, so close to him. Suddenly you come to your senses about where you are, and worry that someone will witness the interaction. You tug your arm and try to release his grip, but he doesn’t budge.

“Roman,” you say, looking up at him, a bit of panic alight in your eyes, “someone could see.”

His grin expands as he releases his grip on your wrist and takes a small step back.

“Where’s the fun in being cautious?” He asks.

“If your idea of fun is being reckless and a grade-A dick, I’m not interested.”

Roman lets out a laugh, and walks around you like a predator planning how to enjoy their meal. Your heart picks up speed, and you take a deep breath in. He really is toying with you. And fuck him and your senses, because you’re so turned on by it. He makes his way back to face you, and reads you like a book. Suddenly his hands on on your waist and he’s pushing you backwards, lifting you up and setting you down on one of the roadie trunks. His body is positioned between your legs, and his face is inches away from yours.

You can feel his dick hardening through his pants, pressing into your aching core. He places his hands flat on the trunk at your sides, leaning in closer. Your lips part in anticipation of a kiss, but he just studies your eyes. You’re both breathing rather heavily, waiting for the other to make a move. You can’t take the tension anymore as what feels like minutes pass, so you crash your lips into his, gripping his bare chest. He kisses you back hungrily, grabbing your wrists and pulling your hands away from him, wrapping your arms behind your back.

Your core is pulsing, and he’s grinding his dick against you with every movement. You want more of him, all of him, right now. But he still has your arms pinned behind your back, and you’re helpless. He pushes his tongue past your lips and explores your mouth. He tastes like peppermint. You start to try to wriggle your arms free as he devours you, needing so desperately to touch him, but his grips just tightens. He pulls away a moment later and studies you, breathless with reddened lips. You swear you can feel his dick twitch though his pants. You don’t want him to stop. You need more, more, more.

“Is that your idea of not interested?” Roman remarks, allowing you to catch your breath. “You were just so worried someone would see us standing close together then you dry humped me on the roadie cart,” he says playfully.

Your face flushes as you remember you’re in the middle of the hallway backstage, where anyone can walk by. You quickly wiggle free of his grip and push him away as you hop off the trunk. You start to glance around to catch any witnesses, but Roman, grabs your chin and makes you look at him instead.

Roman laughs again. “I’m going to have so much fun playing with you.”

“Screw you,” you say, as you tear your chin out of his grip and take a step back.

“I know you want to,” he replies smoothly, “but you’ll just have to wait.”

Suddenly you were seeing red, so filled with rage at him for playing with you and finding your frustration and panic amusing. You were about to tear him a new one, when you notice Jey down the hall, staring at you both.

The smirk on Jey’s face told you all you needed to know. He just nods his head as your gaze falls on him, and you swear you see his adjust himself through his sweats.

You’d been made. And if two was dangerous, what makes three?

[scammydoesstuff]

heya, I saw your post and I'm really sorry you had a disappointing experience with Neil; I get that BG3 and Astarion shot him to fame but there's still a lot of fans around for his older roles actively posting fics and art (karl, nikolai ginoviev, kamsi etc), so it's not a dead fandom by any means. Village isn't an 'old' game either (it's only 3 years old??) and anyone who says so is wrong imo. I hope your week gets better~

Thank you for the kind words.

I've been mostly spending the last week recovering from being sick and drawing to get out the negative feelings while also trying to rationalize a lot of that interaction.

Honestly, I didn't want to make that post super long, so I didn't go in-depth with all of it for the sake of brevity (because I tend to over explain and get to be very long winded - as you're about to see). I do want to insist that I don't necessarily blame Neil for it being negative. I'm sure it was mostly on me and I'm also sure I was overreacting. Drawing that was just my way of getting out some of those negative feelings instead of spiraling.

So, in regards to the convention: we wound up waiting basically 2 days to even meet Neil. Not...because we wanted to, mind. His line was crazy long every day and it wasn't uncommon to see people sitting down in his line, usually waiting for him to come back from a panel or a photo op. All the lines were moving slow all weekend, though. Not just his. That was one of my biggest issues with the convention as a whole and a critique genuinely unique to this one since the last Fan Expo I went to wasn't nearly that bad.

Our weekend was unfortunately pretty booked as well, so we couldn't wait all day and, after being in his line for nearly 3 hours that morning and barely moving, we had to leave for a lunch reservation with some friends who could only be there for one day after he left for a panel, cutting the line off. They did give out little numbers to anyone who'd been waiting up until that point to hop back into line later that day, however, if we had somewhere to be.

Due to short staffing at the restaurant, lunch also ran long and we didn't end up getting back until about an hour before the convention hall was set to close. We ran to Neil's line where they were cutting it off and, I'm super ashamed to admit, I let my boyfriend lie our way back into line (he told them we were leaving that night instead of staying the full 3 days we'd paid for, which coerced them to let us enter the line anyway) and spent the rest of the wait feeling guilty and really tempted to leave despite knowing on some level that this would likely be our last chance for the weekend. That's still on me. I could've said no and just left and not been a total piece of shit, but I didn't. Granted, other people got in line after us, so they weren't being that strict about it anyway, but I digress.

Regardless, we were already pushing it and I know that and I regret it. When we get to the front, I already wanted to keep things brief; get an autograph if I could, but mostly show him the Heisenberg plushie I'd made not long after the game came out.

(this is the plushie, btw. He took months to complete because he's entirely hand sewn - with the face being hand-embroidered - and was a major comfort project because of a lot of things going on in my personal life at the time that were causing me major stress. I've been hoping Neil would come to a con close enough for us to travel to at least so I could show him and this weekend was finally the opportunity I was waiting on).

So, we get to the front of the line and I see that he doesn't have any Village prints. Frankly, outside of Astarion, he doesn't have any other character prints except for one, which was a general Resident Evil group kinda thing with all the Resident Evil characters he'd done. There might've been one other, but I don't think it was for a character? It might've just been a headshot, but I could be wrong. I just know it wasn't Heisenberg-related, so I do not remember it clearly.

I was disappointed, but I decided to get the Resident Evil print anyway. I was initially going to have him sign a trench coat I'd made while working on the plushie. It was kinda practice to learn how to make the coat for that project and now it's just...my Heisenberg coat that I wear in winter. It's very warm. But I never ended up showing it to him after we finally get in front of him because the guilt was just too much.

So we start off and I was trying to be jokey and playful as I said 'I'm kinda disappointed you didn't have any Heisenberg prints' while showing him the plushie, but I can definitely see how, regardless of the tone I was trying to use, didn't come across right. So maybe *I* came off as rude instead despite trying to just...start a conversation about how I really liked Heisenberg? Totally possible. I'm not denying that.

And that's when Neil said that they don't bring prints along for Heisenberg anymore. That Village is an older game, so they don't get a lot of requests for it anyway and thus they save space when traveling. More disappointing. I started feeling worse because I could tell he was tired. It was the longest day for the exhibition hall to be open and he was still going even after everyone else was closing. He did arrive an hour after the hall opened, but it was still a long day, I know. I felt guilty and shitty, but, once he was done signing, I could properly show off the plushie - including the little cigars I'd made that he can hold cuz he has magnets in his hands. Maybe that would make him smile and lift his mood, y'know? So I was excited for his reaction and...

Nothing. Maybe a little laugh in that 'oh, that's cute' kinda way. He kinda did the voice when he saw it, but not really. I just...felt myself sink. I felt so embarrassed to have been so excited for this. My boyfriend asked if he could get a picture of Neil holding it and he did, but I was just...done. I wanted to leave because I realized that this was a mistake. It was late, he was tired, and this character doesn't mean much anymore because it's an older game that's been well overshadowed by Baldur's Gate III.

We wrapped up and left and that was it. I couldn't bring myself to say anything about how much Heisenberg meant to me as a character. I couldn't make myself show off the things about the plushie I was so proud of. I just wanted to leave because I felt like such a leech and that I shouldn't have done this.

I'm not dismissing the way I handled all of this. Looking back, I blame myself for my own bad time and I definitely blame myself for that interaction being as bad as it was. Neil was tired and, to a degree, he's right; it's not the new game that everyone's obsessed with right now. I shouldn't take it personally.

But it's easy to say that. It's so much harder to actually follow through with it. I couldn't help but feel upset because everyone else in line who'd seen the plushie would get excited to see it. Even the event manager who was hanging around at the end of the day told me I should sell them. Hell, back in April of this year, I even got to meet Maggie Robertson, who happened to be going to Fan Expo Cleveland (I live in Ohio, so less travel for that one). I thought it'd make her laugh (cuz, y'know, the size difference is accurate, right?) and, despite acting offended that I'd even bring him before her at all, she was still excited to talk about it and seemed to enjoy engaging with it. She was delightful and clearly still loves her character and that game, which made the contrast of meeting Neil so much more striking and...kinda hurtful...

So yeah...Sorry. That's a whole lotta words for 'I'm surely the reason it was so bad', but ye...Kinda got me out of an art funk, I guess. So that's something...maybe...

[bloomingstay]

favorite kpop group tag~ thank you @binniesbang!

who is your favorite kpop group?

stray kids, if that was any surprise

which member sparked your interest first?

hyunjin! i've almost always been pulled in by the dancer (lee know i know but) specifically the style of dance hyunjin excels in. the isolation is so satisfying and cool. for some reason choreo always gets a song stuck in my head??

But also!! I had heard they produced their own music and that really got me interested in kpop again

who was your first bias?

chris bang 🤍 went from zero to ult within no more than two days tbh…

what makes them your current bias?

oh god. um. i'll put this in the least embarrassing way possible. (this is a kpop tumblr blog I should probably get over it)

it was a particularly bad year. i stumbled upon their silly videos (thank you stay for the edits<3) and they made me laugh. then i started seeing clips of chans room and him interacting with the boys and just like... he's so wonderful. he's generous and kind and loving and thoughtful. just a shy lil guy who also happens to be a flirt and a fucking dork and it's cute man idk shut upp

who is your bias wrecker?

i was certain i'd never have one, i truly adore each of those boys so so much.

i was however proven wrong after a very sweet, silly compilation of binnie being ridiculous. followed by a face cam of his sclass performance in the supreme jersey?? and the curls?? he has such amazing stage presence and he's a great dancer. but he kept going from his cute sweet binnie expressions looking like he was just so into it and having fun, to the "dark rapper" eyes and commanding stage presence. and like, wow. 🖤 i am a sucker for that kind of duality.

which members are you currently obsessing over that aren't your bias/wrecker?

in another reality han is my wrecker. that boy is the epitome of what i used to look for in guys: babygirl. lol. well, and insanely talented and funny and everything. I adore him

after befriending a couple seungmin stans, i started looking for pics and clips to send them and found myself so incredibly impressed with him and touched by some of the things he's said and done. plus he’s a funny little shit.

hwang hyunjin is such a sweet boy. since we got producer jinnie on the last album i have been looking back and just so impressed with his growth 🤍

when did you first discover the group?

(Upon editing I realize I read this as ‘how’ but oh well)

okokok so

i was a kpop fan 2014-2017 and went all in. kcon and concerts the whole thing

but then i was just on my usual 6 hour yt shorts binge as i tried to fall asleep and saw skz reacting to the "your eyes" mv, specifically felix's part, obviously. i watched it like 12 times just cry laughing at han screaming, hyunjin trying to escape, channie hiding behind his hands and squealing. it was just so funny to see a group kind of clowning their own shit? i thought they were hilarious.

then i saw julien (solomita) had reacted to 'topline' and i was soooo into it. immediately went to watch some mvs and decided cool i'll be a totally normal casual fan of this group’s music….. :)

THEN a lovely lady i'd followed on my 10 year old tumblr account posted about skz. i messaged her that I’d finally decided to check them out and she was kind enough to answer questions and entertain my onslaught of messages as I screamed about how much I love these boys. and she still does everyday so. thank you hana 🌸

have you ever been to one of their concerts?

not yet~

what are some of your favorite songs by them?

THIS SECTION TOOK ME WAY TOO LONG. disclaimer: I absolutely could not include non ot8 this would’ve been 30 songs (I’m probably going to cheat)

Hall of fame. bitch ever since that live stage (which was the first time I’d heard it) I’ve listened to the sclass album 3 times a week no joke, goddamn it’s so good. so just know, i pulled almost every song from that album off this list when i made cuts

levanter. a hard pill to swallow mid relationship struggles and holds a lot of meaning for me.

secret secret. i can't get over how professional this song sounds and how it was just a few years in?

leave. where i got my username~ like I said, relationship stuff. You have not yet really bloomed When the new season comes I hope the warmth will make you bloom Into a flower that never dies

sclass. *bling bling* HIPHOPSTEP. such a fucking chaotic mess of a jam.

megaverse. the breakdown? MEGAPHONE. Han, bitch? We make the rules nobody can hold me yeaaahhh. Your body shakes - STRAY KIDS EVERYWHERE ALL AROUND THE WORLD. Sorry, flawless.

gods menu. ate, bitch. chan was something the fuck else

domino. neeed I say more

social path is bomb

grow up. read lyrics for the first time just now ow

eternity. told u I’d cheat.

love poem. big cheat my list worth it

I am going to be so mad when I realize I missed a song I listen to 7 times a day but been doin this for 2 hours so I’m calling it. Also forgive me I’m still working through the discography (backwards) and haven’t listened to the full first couple albums.

the adhd is allowing no further focus or thought so i will be tagging the same friends as my last tag post no pressure <3

@channieblossoms @skzms @roseykat @thefantasyden @seungsungracha @astraysis @channieswife

Thank you again @binniesbang for tagging me~!

[forcedhesitation]

maaaaaaaaaaan. ridiculous to be calling DBD "pathetic" because it couldn't get licensing for various final girls. as if it hasn't always been because of some bullshit on the end of the copyright holders. fuck, we would have gotten more material from Hellraiser, had it not been for the copyright holders. we lost Stranger Things temporarily because of the copyright holders being out of touch with fans and greedy. Ghostface exists in the game because luckily, the character of Ghostface isn't actually owned by Big Bad Viacrap.

also like. DBD isn't Fork Knife. it's just not. and if I'm not mistaken-- it's not like Fork Knife has any horror character that DBD doesn't, apart from Eleven and Hopper. Eleven could never be in the game anyway, because any character added has to be over 18/a legal adult (for legal reasons). and we have Steve, Nancy, and Jonathan instead. It makes much more sense that they chose those characters for the game, as this followed S2, which made Steve one of the most popular characters from the show. so much so that he can even contend with Eleven in popularity.

and let's not downplay the fact that DBD does have other, very, very impressive licenses in it. such as Silent Hill. that was the first big thing Konami let happen with the ip in YEARS. Resident Evil was...HUGE. Wesker's chapter brought in an unprecedented number of players and anyone who played survivor at that time knows that for WEEKS, all you would get was Wesker after Wesker. We have Chucky and Tiffany, voiced by their original VAs. Sadako from the original Japanese Ringu, not the American version of the same concept! You can play as the Xenomorph, and the Xenomorph Queen! Vecna, from D&D is a killer, and he is voiced by Mr. Matt Mercer! We have Ash Williams, Alan Wake, Leon. S. Kennedy, Cheryl Mason, and very soon Lara Croft! and then After her-- we are getting Castlevania!! So there is no shortage of incredible of characters from horror that are in this game, and it's disrespectful to act like the people who work on this game don't care enough about it to try their fucking hardest to give fans the best possible licensed chapter dlcs they can. it's not their fault if the copyright holders want something different.

Besides, I think it's gross to suggest that DBD doesn't have a claim to the title of "Horror Hall of Fame" just because it doesn't have specific licensed characters in it. what about all the amazing original characters that the game has? do those suddenly not count, just because they do not include super well-known characters from popular old horror movies? A lot of these popular old horror movies don't include/don't give much of a spotlight to people of colour, so the original chapters often give the devs the room to add diversity to DBD's cast of characters, whereas a license might have otherwise not allowed it. and many of these original characters even have nods to existing horror media, like the End Transmission chapter drawing inspiration from both the horror-survival game SOMA, and the sci-fi horror movie/comic book Virus. Does the hard work that the many talented members of the DBD team put into making this original chapter, among many others, mean nothing, just because Sidney Prescott or Sally Hardesty aren't in the fucking game? I should hope the fuck not.

[animesavior]

“About earlier, I'm sorry. Back when I shut down your ideas about love, my father didn't...well, he never approved of how I lived my life. And when your opinions are continuously shunned and ignored, it makes it hard to accept the opinions of others. In order to defend your position, you assert your legitimacy by rejecting what other people have to say. But you're not concerned about winning approval [Akira]. You just say whatever comes to your mind. I guess that made me a little jealous, and the old me slipped out for a bit. The truth is, I'm just bad at romance. I'm afraid of getting hurt. Which is probably why I put up a front and acted like work was more important.  [...] If one day, I do find myself falling in love, I can only hope that it's with someone I can be this open with.” -          Shizuka Mikazuki, Zom 100 (Ep. 08)

The Toonami Trending Rundown for June 8-9, 2024. Some fun times this week, as Beatrix joins the crew in Zom 100 as they go out for sushi and a hot spring visit, while Lex Luthor leads the charge in calling for Superman’s denouncement, and Sabo substitutes in for Luffy in trying to secure the Flame Flame fruit in One Piece, among other great moments.

In terms of trends, Toonami trended in the USA alongside My Adventures with Superman and Zom 100. In addition, Android 18 interestingly enough trended during the night. The reason? Check out the next episode preview for My Adventures with Superman, and you can probably see why fans have compared the show’s newest character Kara to DBZ’s Android 18.

No trends were spotted during Week 2 of Toonami Rewind on Friday, which probably wasn’t helped that Summer Game Fest (considered to be the successor to the now defunct E3) was going on at the same time.

This week’s feature was a new ID indent titled Rubiks Cube, as TOM and SARA try to solve a Rubiks Cube. You can check it out below.

Speaking of Summer Game Fest, Toei Animation and Bandai Namco released a new trailer for the upcoming video game, Dragon Ball: Sparking Zero. The newest game to the Dragon Ball franchise, it will be available for fans to play on Steam, the PS5, and the Xbox Series X/S this upcoming October 11, 2024.

Dragon Ball will be once again featured in San Diego Comic-Con this July, as Toei will once again have a booth in the convention center halls during the event on July 25-28, in addition to an outside booth at the Marriott Marquis next door for non-badge holders. I’ll be covering SDCC for Toonami Squad once again, so be sure to follow @AnimeSavior and @ToonamiSquad on Twitter and Bluesky for any news that will be coming about during the con.

This week, the Annecy International Animation Film Festival is taking place in France, and among the awards and presentations, Cartoon Network and Adult Swim have announced several new and continuing original productions. Of interest for Toonami viewers, Adult Swim has greenlit production on a third season of My Adventures with Superman. Among some of the other productions from Cartoon Network include an animated adaptation series of Get Jiro!, a graphic novel penned by the late Anthony Bourdain and Super Mutant Magic Academy, a new Adult Swim original series created by J.G. Quintel (of Regular Show fame) and Jillian Tamaki, the creator of the franchise’s original comics. The Adventure Time franchise will also see three different animation productions, including a movie; Adventure Time: Side Quests, which will feature stand-alone episodes in Finn and Jake’s adventures; and Adventure Time: Heyo BMO, a preschool series starring BMO.

Toonami creator Jason DeMarco is also at Annecy this week to promote the new Lord of the Rings anime film, titled The War of Rohirrim. Directed by Kenji Kamiyama, produced by Joseph Chou and Jason DeMarco, and animated by Sola Entertainment; the anime film will also feature the talents of Peter Jackson and Fran Walsh, as executive producers. "The Lord of the Rings: The War of Rohirrim" opens in theaters on December 13, 2024.

Hera and Wulf, respectively, from The Lord of the Rings: The War of the Rohirrim. Photos from Warner Bros. Pictures via Entertainment Weekly.)

Unfortunate news in the anime industry this week, as Gainax, known for giving us the Evangelion, Gurren Lagann, and FLCL franchises, alongside other classics including His and Her Circumstances, Nadia, Gunbuster, has filed for bankruptcy after 40 years in existence. Studio Khara, Evangelion creator Hideki Anno’s newest animation studio, will assist in foreseeing Gainax’s liquidation, including transferring or selling the rights of all their remaining properties. While Gainax will be missed among the anime community, its legacy will certainly live on through its successor companies and veteran animators, including the likes of Studio Khara, Studio Trigger, and Production I.G.

Not much else to say other than see you again next time for another round of the better cartoon show. Later.

Legend: The shows listed are ordered based on their appearance on the schedule. Show trends are listed in bold. The number next to the listed trend represents the highest it trended on the list (not counting the promoted trend), judging only by the images placed in the rundown. For the Twitter tweet counts, the listed number of tweets are also sorely based on the highest number shown based on the images on the rundown.

United States Trends:

#Toonami [Trended with #Zom100]

#MyAdventuresWithSuperman [Trended with #Zom100]

#Zom100 [#8]

Android 18 [#18]

Tweet Counts:

Android 18 [1,575 tweets]

If you wish to send me a tip for the work on the trending rundown, donations can be sent to PayPal.Me/DanielLimjoco.

“Does that mean…you…” Only Toonami on [adult swim] on Cartoon Network.

[jillianfahey]

Bad Batch - Afterlife? Wrecker 1 1/2 (Wreckers POV)

Wrecker looked around at all the brothers around him, hoping that Hunter was there somewhere. He hated the thought of how his brother and squad leader must be blaming himself for their brothers deaths. But he could only see the regs around him.

Picking his larger than normal frame off the floor he stood tall, looking around for his brother. There was no sign of Hunters slightly shorter than average frame and shaggy hair so he started walking, trying not to bump into any of the regs around him as he searched. It was almost as if they were on Kamino with the amount of brothers of all ages around him, and he wanted to laugh at loud at the joy the cadets obviously felt as they ran together. Not in an exercise, but because they were playing games and being brothers.

None of this made sense, but it felt nice seeing his uptight brothers relaxed even if they were still short with him. Finally the hall changed and he heard a sound he never thought he would hear again, “Technically the…” he didn’t listen further as he barreled over to hug Tech the smaller brother he was not able to keep safe. Feeling his brothers smaller fame stiffen before relaxing and stating, “While I did miss you as well this display is unnecessary.”

Over his shoulder the deliberate, “How touching.” Crosshair, their first batchmate to apparently die but was here with them safe and sound. But Wrecker needed to hug him and Echo noted with a smile that while Crosshair grimaced at the crushing embrace he did nothing to escape it. 

It took about a month for Wrecker to stop staring at his brothers who seemed suddenly alive and try to listen to them planning. But his new friend Hevy has so many plans to wreck things and that was fun too. Echo dragging them both out by the ear was not fun though. Wrecker was planning on a new batch of playful destruction when Hunter stumbled into the room. From the unkempt hair, dark circles under his eyes and hollows in his cheeks they could see he hadn’t been taking care of himself. He also needed a good shower or three but Wrecker hugged him anyway. It was a long few weeks before their older brother would let them out of his sight. 

A month or so after Hunter was starting to realize they would not disappear if they left his sight for thirty minutes Wrecker was leaning in the open area of the hall that seemed to be an unofficial gathering point for everyone. He was supposed to be listening for any information but he kept thinking of you and how he had traded work for the pair of clothes that was now next to his exercise equipment. He wanted to see you, hold you, and let you know that everything was going to be fine. 

The regs stirring around got his attention and he thought it was probably just Hunter checking on him as he had been away for longer than his older brother liked. But no, it was, “Y/n?”

The loose garment you were wearing swirled as you turned to him. Crying “Wrecker,” you ran directly into his arms and he gathered you close against him, carefully tucking the bottom of the garment down. He knew you well enough to know that the loose garment riding up to show even more of your body would make the situation worse. 

Speaking only to you as you shook, “Let’s get you somewhere safe.” He hurried to the Batches apartment. On the way he saw Hunter who took one look at your shaking form and signed ‘apartment’ before moving away again at his nod. Opening the door one handed he firmly shut it behind both of you and carried you to the couch. Setting you down he gently untangled himself from you clinging hands with a, “Hold on a minute,” before going into his room. Picking up the smaller set of clothes from the chair next to his exercise equipment he hurried out to you. You hadn’t moved from where he had set you but you met his eyes and when he held out the clothes you took them and then followed his motion to his room. Nodding once you went in and closed the door behind you. 

Running his hands over his head Wrecker silently kicked himself, he needed to do more to let you know that you were safe. But what else could he do? Trying to think though his options he heard the door open and tuned to see you in the t-shirt and sweat pants. You were no longer shaking and your face was bright with happiness as you smiled you at him, “Thanks Wrecker, your the best.”

Feeling the blush across his face as he rubbed the back of his neck, “Its really nothing.” Then he noticed the couch and remembered that talking about bad experiences helped so he motioned to it, “Want to tell me what happened?” He thought he had a good idea but he wanted to know your experience to help you. So when you nodded and sat down on the couch he sat in the chair across from you trying to note points, quietly nodding along to show that he was listening.

At the end of the story of what had happened to you that morning Wrecker spoke, “You don’t get a room just like that,” he snapped to show quickness. “At least that’s what Tech says,” seeing that he had scared you, “But not to worry you can stay with us.” Extending his arms to show the whole apartment, “The Bad Batch lives here.”

Seeing you smile always made his heart melt a little bit, and this one was even better than usual, “Thanks Wrecker.” Then there was the sound of a stomach protesting and he loved seeing your ears turn pink with embarrassment, “Do you have anything to eat?”

Grinning at you, “Oh yeah!” Then he lead you over to the kitchen to have some of the soup Echo had made. He couldn’t remember why it was so hearty, but it was filling and good. And seeing your happiness at the meal made everything even better. 

**********************************************************************

I hope that this was enjoyable. I'm sorry it took so long for the POV of our big, soft hearted boy.