#like. the actual work I do is not but the names of the work kinda are? it's one of those jobs

[thebajablaster]

i will probably Never Post Art of them but doing this for my original ocs because i love them and their 2nd anniv is coming soon (i lied might post art for the 2yr)

btw their names are rowyn and cassius

jonestly i think rowyn just met cass in the back of a bar and was like "oh this twink isnt doing so good"

theyve known each other for ~6yrs. give or take i love timelines (no)

rowyn just thought cass was pathetic as hell and cass just was like... zomg a man

cassius definitely positively. he's really attached to rowyn but will feign ignorance if someone tells rowyn he cares. rowyn actually would give an unassuming carefully neutral statement, but he cares for cass a lot too

they have their squabbles, but have a healthy and mostly stable relationship

cass just likes to help rowyn with cases. thats it lmao

they see each other at work, sometimes off if cass gets drunk but its mostly reprimands and a drive home

rowyn is kinda curt, and cass just drives him insane with nagging- pretty stereotypical office workplace relationship. like think irv and dylan severance almost idk T^T but for meaningful gestures, since rowyns always burnt out, cass always has a blanket in his office to put over rowyn at his desk when he inevitably passes out there

theyre both VERY stubborn. also very loyal not just to each other but to everyone they care about

cass is much more expressive with his emotions while rowyn is the bottle-up type

uhh nah not rlly

its a very on-off doomed yaoi tbh. one takes care of the other, the other shrugs it off, etc

when theyre mad, they mostly just ignore each other. cass absolutely hates it and outbursts while rowyn just bottles it up and freaks out at home

i wouldnt say cass has any goals other than staying with rowyn. meanwhile rowyn just wants to make it another year so maybe??

absolutely. they fight sometimes but they would put their life in the trust of the other

rowyn has some mental health stuff, but nothing huge. cassius always promises to stop drinking, but goes back on it sometimes. its not like a huge issue but it annoys rowyn when he has to pick cass up

well rowyn accidentally killed a guy once so

they both see it as temporary but both really want it to be permanent. power is in your hands ig

both wish they were closer fs

one time they went out for a walk together, and they just talked a lot about life. wow that says a lot about how depressing my ocverse is

they had a huge fight a while ago over cass getting drunk and rowyn stopped him from coming to work for a week because he was petty (hes sort of cass's boss? how do i explain ack)

best memory

just people they work with as friends and people they work cases against as enemies tbh

in public more negative, much closer in private

gay

i mean they might kiss??? or kill each other havent decided yet

absolutely. i mentioned it before but theyre really loyal to each other for heavy lore reasons

i might have carpal tunnel

Questions about two of your original characters about their relationship. Should work for friends/lovers/coworkers/enemies/etc, maybe not so much for family, but you're welcome to try!

How did they meet?

How long have these two characters known each other?

What were their first impressions of each other? How does that compare to their impressions of each other now?

How would they describe each other if asked? Physically? In personality?

Do they get along? Why or why not?

Do they have any shared interests/hobbies? Do they ever do these hobbies together?

How often do they see each other? Where do they usually meet?

How do they communicate with each other? Are there any recurring phrases or gestures unique to their relationship?

What is one quality they have in common?

What is one major difference between them?

Does one act as a narrative foil to the other? How so?

Do they have any affection for each other? How do they show it?

Do they have any disdain/contempt for each other? How do they show it?

Do they share the same goals in life?

Do they trust each other? Why or why not?

Is one of them keeping secrets from the other? Why? How would they react if the secret was revealed?

Are they keeping a secret together? How do they feel about that?

Do they view their relationship as temporary or permanent?

Are they satisfied with their relationship? Do they wish they were closer/more distant?

What is their best memory together?

What is their worst memory together?

When were they the most vulnerable with each other?

Do they have any mutual friends? Mutual enemies?

How do these two interact with each other in public versus in private?

If a stranger saw them together, how would they describe their relationship?

How would these characters react to being stuck in a small room with each other?

How far would they go for each other? Would they risk their own lives for each other?

[lostinlovingrevery]

Little Miss Independent

Logan Howlett X F! Reader

He can take care of you, just let him

A/N: Ooof. I actually might come back to this and extend it, but here it is for now! enjoy. I was picturing 70s Logan but honestly any Logan could work??

Warnings: SMUT, its almost completely smut. MDNI, thankkkss. Fingering, teasing/edging, logan gets sorta mad, reader is an independent lil miss and Logan wants to break it lol, i guess dom/sub kinda?, M! Masturbation, cum-eating, reader gets tied up, a lil rough manhandling, ya cunt gets smacked!, overwhelming, unprotected PiV

“Oooh. I know sweetheart.”

He coos, a tone that sounds almost condescending. He added another finger, scissoring you open and your hands immediately grasped onto his arm, nails digging into his skin. 

You let out a pathetic whine, a babble that sounded close to Logan's name. He tuts, shaking his head, his thick fingers pumping in and out of you. 

“Now what was that? That sounded like nonsense. Use your words.” He orders, slowing the pace of his fingers thrusting in and out of you. You started moving your hips, desperate for more, for him.

“Lo…” You gasped. 

“What?” 

“I wanna cum….” Your lips pouted as you looked up at him. Big pleading eyes that stirred his heart. Your grip on his arms tightened, as you began pushing and pulling on it- attempting to use him to get yourself off since he seems to want to toy with you.

“Yeah?” He smiles. “That’s cute, but…I don’t think you deserve it just yet.” 

He removed his hand, and you sobbed, your head falling back onto the sheets. He delivered a smack! to your cunt, the sting of his hand sent a rush of pleasure over you. 

“Nuff’ of that.” He scolds. “Stop acting like a baby.” 

You huffed in frustration. The pleasurable sensation that was building inside you had now faded, leaving you irritated. 

If he won’t take care of you, you’ll have to take care of yourself. You’ll do just fine getting yourself off if he’s going to play these games.

Not looking at him, your hand pushed his away from cupping over your hot core- a teasing heat emitting from him that makes you desperate for stimulation. Your fingers moved through your folds, finding your swollen clit and you began circling them. You let out a soft moan.

It was temporary relief- until Logan quickly snatched your hand away. Holding it in a tight grip above you, he forced you to look at him, a judging look in his eyes- he looked pissed.

“Did I tell you to do that?”

“No.” You frown, creasing your brows together. He smacked your cunt again, a hint of a snarl on his lips- his hand landed on your skin harder this time, making you yelp and shut your legs, rubbing your thighs together for any sort of stimulation. Your core felt like it was on fire, desperate for that heated release to cool you down. 

“So why did you?” 

You turned your head away. He dropped your wrist, snatching your face in hand and forcing you to look at him. His fingers buried into your cheeks, puckering your lips- almost painful in the way he held you. Yet you still held a challenge in your eyes. 

“What’s with the attitude?” He grumbles, his voice low and dark. “Now I was trying to make you feel good, but you’re acting like a damn brat.” 

He stood up from the bed, and your heart fell- thinking maybe you really did piss him off. You sat up, looking at him with concern. He wasn’t looking at you, standing with an annoyed expression, before his hands came down to his jeans. You watched him undo his belt, snappy and rough in his movements. He shook his head as he slid the belt through the loops- folding it in half as he examined it carefully. He raised his head to look at you and a shiver went down your spine. 

“Lo?”

He smirked, a small huff of amusement escaping him. One step forward, and you tried to scramble away on the mattress only for him to grab your ankles and pulling you back. 

“Where ya think you’re going?” His tone full of amusement now. “Thought you wanted this? You were whining and crying just minutes ago to make you feel good.” He clambered over the mattress, straddling your body and pining you to the bed with his weight, your tummy pressed into the mattress. He grabbed your arms, pulling them together behind you and using his belt to bind them. He tugged on it a few times, making sure it was secure. He pushed himself up on his knees, flipping you onto your back. 

You looked up at him with shyness, your chin tipped back with those same pleading eyes as earlier. 

“Knock it off.” He scoffs, as he unzips his pants. “You hurt my feelings y’know? Acting all needy and then trying to undermine me.” 

You had to suppress the smile on your lips. He’s so full of shit. It quickly dropped when you watched him take out his cock.

Hard, swollen- practically throbbing with need. It occurred to you just how bad he must need the same relief you were desperate for. You wet your lips- hungry for the next thing he was going to do, you could practically feel the heavy weight of his cock on your tongue. 

He saw your action, and raised a brow. 

“You think you’re going to get a taste?” He grinned. He spit in his hand. “No, clearly you think you can take care of yourself. Two can play that game.” 

You watched him take his throbbing member in his hand and began stroking it. Pre-cum beads at his slit, and he used it to lube himself over. You watched him stroke himself slowly, starting at the base, fisting his swollen tip.

You wanted him in your mouth so bad. To taste the salty sweet skin, to feel his cum covering your tongue. You wanted him to use you. What is he doing?  A whine escaped you, as you squirmed underneath him.

“You want this huh?” He grin. You nodded, 

“Please? I want to suck you off, baby.” You begged, trying to use the sweetest voice on him. “I can make you feel good.”

He scoffs. 

“Maybe if you had behaved I would use those pretty lips of yours. No, you think you’re such a big girl, all impatient, didn’t let me do what I need to do. You think you know yourself better than me?” 

“I...No…” You simpered. 

As much as you hate to admit it. He was right. In the short time you've been together romantically- he had you figured out. Yet you loved that.

“Damn right. Now you’re gonna lay there and watch me get myself off. Look, but no touch. Got it?” 

You pouted, and he scoffed. “That cute little face isn’t going to get you anywhere with me sweetheart. Enjoy the show.” 

He continued stroking himself, ranging between speeds, going fast and then slowing down to fist his tip, running his thumb over the slit sensually. You noticed he was getting himself off similar to how you would touch and hold him. Grunts and pants escaped him, as he muttered under his breath how he could be fucking you right now, but you had to go be little miss independent. 

You watched him and pressed your thighs together, rubbing them for some type of friction that would relieve the pain your felt in your core, a pulsing that only made your need worse, your pussy was begging for Logan.

He tipped his head back, and you could see the shiver running over his skin. You thought he’d aim to spill himself over your face, allow you to get at least a drop of his finish. He didn’t. A moan escaped him as he arched his back, aiming his cock upwards and away from you. You watched rope after rope spill over his hand and belly. 

It was a gorgeous sight. The flush of his face, the sweat beading his forehead. The way he gritted his teeth, he was keeping the sweet moans of your name to himself. The rise and fall of his chest was evidence of his exertion, as he looked down at you with heavy eyes- but he was far from tired. 

He grinned, something sinister as he brought his thumb to his lips, a generous amount of his spunk dripping down to the knuckle. He stuck his tongue out, slowly- tauntingly, licked his own cum off his tongue. Then he licked his lips. He kept eye contact with you- your face contorted in lust and frustration. 

“Bet you want a taste huh?” He asks. You nodded. 

“Please?”

“No.” 

He brought his hand down to his now semi-erect cock, using the milky substance to lube his cock up more. He climbed off of you, and you quickly spread your legs- giving him a nice, clear shot of your drooling pussy. 

“Lo please, I need you-” You whined. 

“No you don’t sweetheart.” He chuckled. “Ya don’t need me for a damn thing. You can carry the groceries, fix the leaky pipes, move the furniture… I think you just keep me around cause I look pretty. Huh?” 

“No- No that’s not it at all…” You shook your head, shutting your eyes in frustration as your jaw tightened. 

Logan knew that wasn’t the case either. He just wanted to work you up. Ever since you’ve been together you fought tooth and nail to keep your independence- and he gets it, it’s not like he was trying to take that away from you. 

He just wants to take care of you.

You however, seem to always take his efforts as a challenge. Slowly though, piece by piece- he’s been wearing you down. He snatched your heavy groceries out of your hand the other day, forcing you to let him carry them in. Made you breakfast yesterday morning, brought it to you in bed. Put together that piece of furniture you bought months ago and kept insisting you’ll get to it eventually, you’re just busy. One by one he could see your walls begin to tear down, as you started to soften with your relationship, becoming familiarized to having a partner.

This was just another wall that he was tearing apart, brick by brick. 

He had you melting in his arms. A romantic night out. He brought you back to your place and began to take care of you. Once again, you’ve become impatient- never able to sit back and let someone else do the job. He’s spent months learning what makes you tick, getting you to submit to him. 

He’s enjoyed the challenge. 

He began stroking himself again, his cock becoming full and hard once more. A hint of sensitivity made his thighs shake, but he ignored it. 

He watched your squirming form, jerking back and forth as you through a mini-tantrum for his amusement. He was originally frustrated with your little rebellion- but now he sees that this is exactly what you needed. To give you a taste- and to take it away. Break down your will, make you beg.

You did it to yourself. 

“Logan please-” You whimpered. 

Fuck, your moans were pretty. The sound of you begging was music to his ears. You never ask him for a damn thing. What kind a man is he if his girl don’t need him?

“What’s that sweetheart?” He groaned, pumping his fist faster. “Couldn’t hear ya.” 

You groaned, tossing and turning your head. The cold air against your throbbing pussy was unbearable, that alongside the slick sounds of Logan getting himself off. You couldn’t even look at him, too unbearable to see the lustful sight of a man like Logan getting himself off instead of using you.

Tears filled your eyes. “Logan…Please I- I need you.” 

The slick noises stopped, and you heard the creak of the floorboards. His large hands rested on your thighs, keeping your legs opened as he leaned over your writhing figure. 

“What was that?” He asks in a calm voice. You took a shaky breath, your tears threatening to spill over. 

“I need you.” You repeat, looking up into his hazel eyes. 

“What do you need me to do?” He asks, a smile threatening to break through. 

“To take care of me.” 

His smile broke through, cocky, cheeky. “Well, I thought you could take care of yourself?” He tilts his head. He reached up, gently brushing some hair behind your ear. “Little miss independent?” 

You shook your head, pressing your lips together. 

“You need me? Yeah?” 

You nodded, tears finally breaking over and rolling down your cheek. You weren’t hurt, or truly upset- just overwhelmed. A hit to your pride to finally admit it- You needed him. You needed him badly, more than he’ll ever know, more than you can truly express. 

 He tuts, gently leaning down to press fluttery kisses over your face, kissing your tears away. “S’alright darling.” He hums. “How about you say it one more time, and I’ll take real good care of ya?”

“I need you Logan. I want you. To take care of me.” 

He would have came right there just from your words- but no, it was time to take care of you. Ignoring the throbbing of his cock, he brought his hand- messy and covered in his cum and began sliding his fingers carefully through your soaked folds. 

You gasped, spreading your thighs open farther, tipping your head back at the relief you felt from his messy fingers. He found your clit, all puffy and swollen- begging for relief. His fingers were too much and not enough, having been worked up both mentally and emotionally. 

Your hips thrusted forward into his touch, then realizing you may have made a mistake- gasping, you quickly apologized. “I’m sorry I just-”

“Ssh.” He pecked your lips. “Need more of me, huh?”

“Mhm.” You whimpered with a nod. He hummed approvingly. Sitting up, he flipped you over onto your belly, pulling your hips up so your ass was in the air, and face planted into the sheets. 

He pushed his cock through your folds. Shivers ran down your spine at the feeling of his cock- and you leaned back, encouraging for him to finally take you the way you so desperately needed. Someone to take control, to take power over you- and still take care of you the way you always wanted. 

You never told anyone, including Logan, that very desire. Seems like he may have figured it out.

He pushed himself inside. The feeling- overwhelming emotions melting into comfort, relief. It made you almost sleepy, the way you could relax, speared on his thick cock. You cunt was accepting of him, squeezing around him almost painfully tight.

“That feel better baby?” 

“Mhm…” You needed into the bed. Turning your head to the side, you shut your eyes and your mouth hung open in pleasure.

“See how good it is to just let me take care of ya?” 

A smile grew on your face, nodding as you melted into the bed, a small moan escaping your as Logan began to slowly pull out, and back inside you. Your pussy, soaked and creamy sucked him in- desperate for to stay buried deep inside. He took his time, making sure you felt every inch of him. 

“Take it all sweetheart. I got you.”

[earthchica]

Lady Love

terry richmond x black, fem!/plus size reader

summary: you and Terry have a cute, shy interaction in a library. He tries to ask you on a date but is nervous and slightly shy.

warning: fluff, shyness, use of y/n, kissing, errors, slight cussing, bookworm, wholesome, love at first sight & more.

note: let's get back active in this b*tch...this is something short and sweet. I hope you enjoy it. Spread some love and sweetness on here for y'all...we need to get back to good times and stop all this drama.

-

It was a quiet afternoon at the library. Sunlight streaming through the tall windows cast a warm glow over the rows of books.

You were tucked away in your usual corner, flipping through pages of your latest read, when you noticed a tall, muscular figure browsing nearby.

His light caramel skin perfectly caught the light, and his striking light eyes sparkled like two tiny stars.

As you tried to focus on your book, you couldn't help stealing glances at him. He looked so engrossed in a book on the shelf, his brow slightly furrowed as he combed through the titles.

After a few moments, he seemed to sense your gaze and turned to meet your eyes. Your eyes widened, and you quickly looked down, feeling warmth as embarrassment crept in.

"Uh, hey," he said, his voice low but friendly. A slight nervousness made his words almost stumble.

You looked up again, and he offered you a shy smile. "I’m Terry."

"Nice to meet you, Terry...I’m [Your Name]," You replied softly, feeling butterflies flutter in your stomach.

Both of you exchanged shy smiles, and for a moment, it felt like the world around you faded away.

Terry shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and you could see the wheels turning in his mind as if he was gathering the courage for something big.

"So, um, do you come here often?" he asked, scratching the back of his neck. A hint of an awkward chuckle escaped his plump lips. It was endearing how genuine he seemed, just a bit out of his element despite his confident appearance.

"Yeah, actually, I do. It’s one of my favorite spots," You admitted, feeling braver. "I love getting lost in a good book. What about you?"

"First time...I’m just over here trying to find some new reads,” he said, glancing back at the shelf. “But honestly, I kinda got distracted when I saw you."

Your heart skipped a beat. Did he really just say that? A shy smile crept onto your face, and you could feel the warmth rushing to your cheeks again.

Terry took a deep breath, his gaze steadying on you. "So, I was thinking…maybe we could grab a coffee or something? If you're free?"

His words tumbled out in a rush, and you could see the nervous flutter in his light eyes as he awaited your response.

You could see the genuine hope reflected in his gaze and the slight tremor in his hands as he waited for you to answer.

Your heart was racing, but you couldn’t help but feel that spark of excitement.

"I’d love that,” You said, your voice barely more than a whisper, but you could see the immediate relief wash over his face.

"Really? That's cool… I mean, great!" His smile widened, and suddenly, that nervousness seemed to melt away, replaced by a bright grin that made his eyes light up even more.

"How about this weekend?" Terry asked, his confidence growing with each passing second. “There’s this nice café not far from here."

"Yeah, that sounds perfect," You replied, your own smile growing wider as both of you exchanged numbers.

It felt like the start of something sweet and new, surrounded by the comforting quiet of books and the gentle hum of the library.

As you parted ways, you couldn’t help but glance back at him one last time. Terry stood there, staring at his phone with a triumphant smile.

-

The day of your date finally arrived, and excitement bubbled up inside you as you prepped for the afternoon.

You stood in front of the mirror, your fingers working through your hair, shaping your natural curls into a cute wash-and-go style.

The sunlight streamed through your window, illuminating your reflection and making you feel even more confident about your appearance.

Sliding into your favorite soft outfit—a cozy yet stylish oversized sweater paired with high-waisted jeans—you feel comfortable and cute.

You completed the look with fresh sneakers, just the right touch for a casual café date. After a final check in the mirror, you grabbed your bag and headed out, heart pounding in anticipation.

As you arrived at the café, you spotted Terry immediately. He was sitting outside, looking effortlessly handsome in a fitted tee showcasing his toned arms and a pair of jeans that complimented him.

The sun's warm glow around him made everything about the moment feel perfect. You caught his eye, and his face broke into that bright, genuine smile that made your heart beat.

“Hey, you look amazing!” Terry called out, standing up and giving you a little wave. The nerves you’d both felt in the library were nowhere to be found now, replaced by a comfortable familiarity.

“Thanks, you too! That shirt looks good on you,” you said with a shy smile, feeling a little flutter at the compliment. You both settled into your seats, the chatter of the café blending with the gentle clinking of cups and saucers.

“Alright, what’s your drink?” Terry asked, leaning forward with genuine curiosity.

“I’m all about that vanilla latte life,” you replied, grinning. “What about you?”

“I can’t resist a classic black coffee—keeps it simple,” he said confidently.

As you both placed your orders, the barista whipped them up quickly. With your drinks in hand, you settled into the cozy corner of the café.

The ambiance felt just right—soft music playing in the background and freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air.

You took a sip of your vanilla latte, and Terry’s eyes sparkled with curiosity as you set your cup down.

“So, what’s your favorite book?” he asked, leaning closer, his eyes keen and focused.

“Oh man, that’s a tough one! But I’d say I’m a sucker for anything by Toni Morrison. Her storytelling is just… next level. What about you?” You replied, feeling the conversation flow effortlessly.

Terry chuckled, his face lighting up. “I feel that! I just finished ‘Song of Solomon,’ and it hooked me. But don’t tell anyone, I lowkey love some graphic novels too—like, you ever read ‘Saga’? It’s wild!”

“Right? I love how it blends genres—sci-fi and fantasy. You get the best of both worlds,” you said, nodding enthusiastically.

“I know! Look at us, nerding out over books. You’d think we were at a damn book club or something,” Terry said, grinning, and you both laughed.

As the conversation flowed, you began to discover more about each other.

“So you mentioned working in a restaurant? What was that like?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, genuinely interested.

“Oh man, it was a crazy ride! I worked in a little diner back home. The rush during brunch was no joke! You know how it is—people can get wild when hungry. How about you?” you replied, leaning back comfortably.

“Same here! I was at this small restaurant, but we had some hilarious regulars. One guy would always order the same thing but ask for ‘extra everything.’ Like, bro, chill!” Terry laughed, mimicking the guy’s over-the-top enthusiasm.

“Right? We’d get some characters! I had this lady who insisted her eggs needed to be ‘sunny side up, but just on the sunny side.’ Like, what does that even mean?” You both erupted into laughter, reveling in the shared experiences.

“Man, I miss those days sometimes,” Terry said, sounding nostalgic.

"Yeah... so what do you do for fun?" you asked.

“I love hiking and camping too. Have you ever hit the trails?”

“Absolutely! Hiking is my thing. There’s nothing like being outdoors—exploring trails and soaking up the fresh air. Plus, camping? The vibes are unmatched.”

“Right? I recently tackled this intense trail. The views were unreal! There’s just something about it that makes ya feel alive,” he said, his enthusiasm infectious.

"Sounds cool! I’m all for climbing up to catch the sunrise. Nothing beats being on top of the world, you know?” You shared, and Terry nodded vigorously.

Then, a playful spark lit up the air between you.

“Alright, since we’re sharing secrets, what’s your go-to jam? I need to know if you vibe with my music taste,” Terry teased, leaning closer, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Oh, I definitely have a thing for jazz. There’s something about those smooth saxophone notes that just hits differently,” you said, shooting him a mischievous grin.

“But rock music? That’s a whole other level. My heart is at classic rock—nothing can top that.”

“Okay, I see you. A rock and jazz lover, huh? We might just have to set up a little jam session, real talk,” Terry said, his tone playful, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Not gonna lie—I'm down! But just so you know, I might just rock some questionable dance moves on the side,” you joked, doing a little dance in your seat, which made him laugh.

“Please, don’t leave me hanging when you do! I’ll bring the popcorn to watch,” he shot back, grinning ear to ear.

The flirty banter kept rolling, and as your coffee cups emptied, you both felt the warm connection growing stronger. The light teasing and shy smiles turned to comfortable laughter and playful nudges.

When the café started to wind down, Terry leaned forward, the intensity in his gaze making your heart race. “You know, I really dig this vibe we’ve got going. It feels easy, right?”

You nodded, feeling an electric connection buzzing between you.

“Yeah, it really does. I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed myself this much on a first date.”

Terry sighed, his eyes softening as he leaned in just slightly more.

“I’m glad we met at that library, [Your Name]. Feels like one of those movie moments, ya know?”

You laughed softly, a little shy but feeling bold at this moment. “Totally. A meet-cute for the ages.”

His gaze intensified, and the playful energy shifted into something more profound.

“Can I…” he started, trailing off momentarily as he gauged your reaction.

You held your breath, feeling the air between you thicken. “Yeah?”

And without breaking eye contact, he leaned in, closed the gap, and gently brushed his lips against yours.

The kiss was soft and hesitant but deepened as you melted into the moment, feeling the warmth and connection unfold.

As he pulled back, still lingering close, both of you were grinning. “Fuck...I mean, sorry...Wow. That was amazing,” he said breathlessly.

“Yeah, it was,” you replied, your heart fluttering, knowing this was just the beginning of something special.

[bluerosefox]

So uhhh

I was thinking of more Dead Serious prompts but my mind went wondering and came up with something else.

What if Danny is dating Respawn!

So this is like a one-sided Dead Serious idea with Danny already dating Respawn (idk their pairing name sorry)

So, now hear me out, what if Danny or rather Phantom joins the Titans or maybe as a young adult joins the JL.

And what if he does his best to avoid being around Robin unless it's for actual missions. Now Robin, Damian, didn't mind this at first in fact he approved of it cause you know it's Damian. But like a cat being ignored he gets curious as to why and starts trying to seek Danny out to find out.

But again Danny is doing his best to avoid the other hero.

Damian eventually gets a crush on Danny after watching Danny go eldritch/ghost king mode and is trying to figure out a way to woo the half ghost.

HOWEVER Danny is in a relationship already, a good one too, with Damian's kinda clone/half brother Respawn. He hasn't told any of them because he knows the bad blood between him and the others. And add the fact Respawn still does mercenary work and Danny doesn't mind but knows those in the Titans or JL do, he doesn't tell any of the heroes whose he's dating.

Danny is keeping his distance cause he knows his boyfriend gets jealous and clingy whenever he comes back from meetings that Robin is in.

[thedaddycomplex]

Hi, I was wondering which is better: Self-publishing or going through an actual publishing company like penguin house, etc. For some context, I've been set on self-publishing on kdp, mostly because I don't want a company to turn down my manuscript that I worked so very hard on AND think is very good writing. I also don't want to be the "Face of the book" if you will, and I am currently using a pen name. I want to get the best value out of my book, so I kinda want to do this right. Advice?

Well, I can't really answer which is "better" because that depends entirely on your ultimate goal. So, let me break down the advantages and disadvantages of both self-publishing and traditional publishing and you can see which sings to you.

Self-publishing is a good way to go if you want complete control over the process — editing, cover design, marketing. This works well if your ultimate goal is simply to have a printed book (or e-book) untouched by anyone but you.

It is not a good way to go, however, if you hope to make any money or have a new career. While all of us can point to the handful of authors who've made tons of money self-publishing (Andy Weir, for example), they are the exception, not the rule, and they all spent years building an audience online before they had their success story.

Also, as a self-published author, you are your own communications team, marketing team, PR team, etc. You basically have to take on multiple extra full-time jobs for no pay. [In that way, I guess you do get a new career(s).]

Traditional publishing comes with communications, marketing, design and, most important, editing baked in. And it comes with an advance, so out of the gate there's money. (Note: You do have to pay back the advance, but it comes out of your sales, not your pocket.) Plus, they have their own distribution channels set up. All you really have to do is write, do some self-promotion on social media, and get on the phone for the occasional press interview.

The obvious downside with traditional publishing is breaking in. It is a long process of putting yourself out there for a series of rejections and there's no guarantee you'll ever actually break in. To do so takes a magic blend of talent, persistence, timing, and luck.

If you want to avoid getting turned down by a company, it sounds like your choice is already made. However, I would strongly urge you to send your book out to publishers and agents anyway. If you get rejected, ask why. If you disagree with their reason, fine, move onto the next one. If you can see their point, however, consider it a note that can improve your book.

I love that self-publishing exists and it is a fantastic way for authors to get their work out into the world. But, personally, I prefer trad publishing. It allows me to focus almost solely on the writing. And I wholeheartedly believe that a good editor makes a writer's work better.

[directdogman]

hey dog! sorry to bug you with a coding question, but i'm learning rpg maker mv for a fangame & i'm wondering how you did a couple things. if it's not too much trouble, could you quickly explain some of it? i've scrounged around as much as i can but i cant find what i need so i thought it'd be worth asking directly ^^;

how did you get the players name to show up in the message log? i know theres a plugin that adds the name windows for other characters & i've got that figured out, but i have no idea how to get the players name to show up in the history after selecting stuff

how'd you get the graphic for the route diverging choices to show & play During choices? so far ive figured out that looping the images recreates the visual but then the game doesn't progress, bc its just stuck in that loop...

how'd you disable ( + grey out) dialogue options after selecting them??

how'd you add the fullscreen option? i found a code that was supposed to add a fullscreen option to the optionscore settings but that one just breaks the plugin & i simply Don't know enough javascript to figure it out myself

i'm using all the same plugins that dialtown has so clearly these are possible without extra ones, i just don't know how to do it,, thanks for explaining your pronoun system a little while ago btw! i wasn't the one who asked but your post was super helpful when i was setting it up for myself :D

It's been close to 6 years since I started making DT, and I had to figure out a few solutions to specific issues that cropped up which I've likely forgotten now, but I'll answer what I can remember. I'm also gonna give you some advice and advise you not to use RPG Maker for projects like these.

I basically Scott Cawthon'd DT and forced the engine to yield to my demands because I wanted to use the one I knew best. A few of these solutions are over-complicated because the easier ones (which would've worked in other engines) had to be constructed differently. I'll also mention a few solutions to problems you might not have encountered (but inevitably will if you try to recreate DT.) With that out of the way...

1)

You'll want these settings for the backlog plugin. the \c[x] commands refer to standard name colours. Log special inputs set to true, followed up by this below:

\n<\c[4]\n[1]\c[0]>%1

With \n[1] being the name you want and the number after the first c being what colour you want.

I'll also save you a potential future issue: I'd actually recommend you find the backlog plugin I used in DT's files (located inside the www/js/plugins folder) and use the version I have instead of the official release if you're not already, because I made a small change to fix an error. Basically, it breaks slightly with the plugin that lets you bring up the menu during dialogue because text reloads when you leave the menu and re-enter the text box, causing text to be logged at least twice after you pause it. If you keep bringing up the menu, you'll get constant duplication. I simply added a line of code that tells the log not to have two duplicates in a row. Not a programmer, but it seems works.

2)I did it in a funny way to ensure the engine wouldn't screw it up. Basically, there's 3 steps to the event and it's kinda hard to explain (and would be annoying to reproduce without a lot of trial and error for a beginner.) It's easier if I show my code. The first thing I do is run a common event (you can also just paste this code in and run it from the event) that renders the frames used by the popup, so they're loaded into memory + ready to go.

As you can see, they're set to 0 opacity but now ready to be used. Obviously they have to be on a layer that isn't being used by anything else in the scene (and won't be during this part of the game.) I run this event ahead of time, usually 4 messages before the choice comes up or so, so even slower PCs should have time to get them up.

The 'if head' thing just switches between the files for phone/typegingi's heads. I render each frame on separate layers and toggle their opacity from one to the next on a single frame to avoid flickering (bc RPG maker's renderer is hot trash and I have to work around it. Case in point.)

Step 2 is a second command event that orders the frames to fade in.

One layer is the text (which doesn't move) and the other is the first frame of the little head animation. A switch is also turned on at the end, and this signals the animation to go, which is handled by an event on any map where a choice like this comes up.

The event page that handles the animation itself has 2 pages, one to handle the animation as it goes and the other to handle when it stops (note that you could use one page and simply use a conditional branch. I didn't.)

Set to parallel so it runs in the bg behind normal events. As you can see, every 17 frames, I command one image to fade out over a single frame and another to fade in. It loops perfectly, cycling from middle frame, to left, to middle, to right, back to middle. Finally, when you select any route diverging choice, it sets off a second switch, which activates the second event page and commands the game to dispose of the graphics and then turn itself off.

Basically, it's the same animation but with a twist. The text is faded out over 60 frames and then the same animation is played as before, except the values it fades back into go from 255, to 170 to 85. Each of those commands is also followed by a 17 second fade to the opacity of the next frame. So, frame one renders in one frame at 255. Then seventeen frame fadeout to 170... Next frame renders for 1 frame AT 170, then fades out gradually to 85. Then next frame renders at 85 during 1 frame, fades to 0. This is how i synced the turning animation to fade out convincingly.

At the very end, I turn both of the switches this event page uses off so both event pages don't continue on loop. I also have a check for the first event variable to check if the game should still think the animation is running, as a failsafe. I don't remember if this mattered.

3)It's a function in the YEP Extended Message Pack. You'll see the commands for hiding (temporarily removing) + disabling choices (greying them out) as you scroll through the help list, almost 2/3 down. The thing you have to remember though is that messages that are commanded to be hidden/disabled will STAY disabled unless you turn them back on. So, ANY time there's a possibility to make a choice with a disabled or hidden message, add this plugin command to EVERY selectable choice

ClearChoiceSettings

This will ensure the game doesn't break from having a choice permadisabled. If you use loops or labels to make the game return to a previous choice, make sure the looping point is BEFORE any logic that may disable/hide a choice so it doesn't autoenable everything if the game has to go back.

4)Make a new RPG Maker project, copy the js folder from www/data/js and open the new project alongside your other one. Then check my YEP Option core plugin and follow this path in the plugin editor

This code should work.

On a similar note, I'd also take a look at how my plugins are ordered, if your list is different. I had to meddle with the list to make sure some plugins functioned correctly. This engine is held together with duct-tape and spite, so do what this advice what you will.

Hope this helps!

[ghostgirl-22]

i think patrick is surprised at how loose art is when he fucks him for the first time until art admits tashi pegs him, which patrick teases him for all night long

sorry i’m not normal about them

No cause im not normal either as you can probably tell!

CW: 18+ NSFW

—-

Patrick is so excited. And it’s not that he’s some kinda freak with a virginity kink or something. It’s just the idea that Art, after all these years, has still never really been fucked by a man. The idea that Patrick could still be his first… he’s practically foaming at the mouth for the opportunity. 

Since New Rochelle Art has almost exclusively been on top. He seems to enjoy it and for Patrick it feels good but it doesn’t mean he wouldn’t still jump at the opportunity to fuck him.

Then one night… maybe four months into the pandemic its just the two of them alone, stocking up Tashi and Art’s summer home in the Hamptons for Tashi and Lily’s arrival the next afternoon. They’re kinda bored lounging by the pool. 

Patrick begs Art to let him fuck him  for the millionth time and Art for whatever reason  finally decides to let Patrick have it. 

Patrick is basically giddy seeking out lubricant from the pool house. Because actually yes, he is a freak with a virginity kink and it’s been so long since he’s had someone to deflower. Let alone it being another one of Art’s first sexual experiences.  

Art is spread out on the bed in the pool house guest suite. He doesn’t want to use the main room because “my mother in law stays in here whenever she’s in town. It feels wrong.” What also feels wrong is the 1950s style pink and green floral patterns and the over abundance of decorative pillows that they’ve mostly tossed onto the floor but Patrick doesnt comment on that. He can fuck them, he can’t give them style.

Art’s lying on his tummy. Finishing up a cherry popsicle that’s made his mouth all red. Swim trunks still damp from the pool and clinging to the curve of his bottom. Patrick stares at it while he overdoes it with the lube. He knows he’s a little a lot bigger than average. Knows it might be a lot to take for a first time.

“Gonna have to loosen you up for me, that okay?” Patrick says, softly while lowering the trunks, to reveal creamy soft pale skin. “Mm,” Art’s breath hitches. Patrick needs to work fast before Art changes his mind and keeps Patrick waiting forever. He’s teasing a lubed up finger in before he realizes what he’s doing. Surprisingly slips in quite smoothly, Art barely reacts outside of a soft little sigh. Patrick is a little bit miffed actually as he adds a second finger and then a third and he’s hardly met with much resistance as the tight ring of muscle gives readily to accomodate him. 

“Oh,” Art sighs as Patrick curls his fingers inside. “Fuck, right there.” he says like he already knows when Patrick’s fingertips brush against the smooth gland of his prostate. 

God either he’s made to be fucked like a whore or he’s fucking liar.

Patrick doesn’t ask questions. Not until after he’s got his dick inside. With the lube he slips in easily, the thick hefty length of him swallowed up by Art’s greedy hole like it’s fucking nothing. Patrick gasps as he’s engulfed by the tight wet heat of him. Art clenching around him.  Moaning right away as Patrick glides in and out. 

“‘m yes. Yes baby. Yes. Oh fuck. Fuck me baby. Fuck me with your big dick,” he whines out. 

Fucking liar. 

Before too long Art’s losing himself… arching up and pushing back on Patrick’s thrusts. And as much as Patrick desperately wanted to be the first, this is still pretty fucking hot. It’s when Art cries out Tashi’s name, not once but multiple times while Patrick is fucking into him that Patrick starts to put two and two together. 

“Oh Tash… please baby. Oh fuck… feelssogood.”

Patrick’s brain is suddenly staticking. He can imagine Tashi with a big thick dildo, making Art suck it while she holds it between her thighs, before she makes him bend over and so she can shove it inside him. Imagines her fully strapped, a big fat plastic cock slamming into his pert little ass while he washes up the dishes late at night.

“She’s been fucking you, huh?” Patrick hisses. “I’m not your fucking first cause your gorgeous little wife has been loosening you up for years.” 

“Yes…yes… oh god… oh fuck…” Art gasps out. He’s up on his hands and knees mow, moaning nonsensically. Patrick’s got a brusing tight grip on his waist, fucking into him doggy style. 

“God i bet she fucks you like a slut.” Patrick gasps, smacking his ass and moving faster. 

“Mm fuck…just like a slut…yes.” Art groans out.   

“Bet you need the biggest size… need her to fucking stretch you out. Need to feel so fucking full she can feel it bulging from the outside while you beg her to come inside you.” Patrick doesn’t know what he’s saying but Art starts gasping, 

“nngh yes… Patrick oh fuck… gonna cum on your big dick… gonna…oh fuck…”  and Patrick watches him go off untouched all over the floral patterns on the bedspread. He falls over the edge right away, his balls seizing up, fingerstips digging harder into Art’s waist as he stills and buries his load deep inside. 

Art collapses into the wet spot and Patrick shoves him over so he has space to lay down next to him on the crowded full sized bed. 

“You’re a little freak.” Patrick whispers breathlessly. “I’ve never been fucked before. It’s my first time.” He says, mocking Art’s voice while messing with his coiffed hair.

Art pushes him off. He’s all flushed and fucked out, chest heaving still. “You never asked me if I’d been fucked. You asked me if I’d ever been fucked by a man. And I hadn’t.” 

“Oh fine, you get away with hiding that from me on a fucking technicality,” Patrick smirks. 

“I’m not hiding anything.” Art murmurs, resting on Patrick’s bare chest.

“Not anymore you’re not, because I’m absolutely going to need to be there the next time she fucks you.” 

[karmaajr]

okay yall sometimes I forget WHY I'm friends with people and then I suddenly remember and it's like.. woah-

FOR EXAMPLE!!! I have this friend and she used to be my best friend?? but we haven't really spoken that much this school year lol- and so ive been like?? 'should we still be friends??? we dont rlly click the way we used to'

but then!!! the story happens lol-

okay so like it's right before chemistry n its still lunch time and im being my usual self and then I'm demonstrating to magpie on how to get somebody to stop doing something that you don't want them to do bcuz like?? why not?

the tip is basically to be as loud/embarrassing as possible and so I decided I needed to demonstrate (as I, personally, am a visual learner so why not teach somebody in the way it works for me?) and I decide to try it on the es best friend I mentioned at the beginning??

so I go up to her and start telling her what happened like 20 minutes ago (year 7 ive been hanging out with crashed out on me after I squirted half her drink at her.. I SOUND LIKE AN ASS FOR THIS BUT I SWEAR THERE'S SOME CONTEXT YALL 😭😭🙏) and her eyebrows just get higher n higher n shes kinda "girl wth" -ed out

and then this other friend I have points it out and shes like "oh oopsies" and then we get a little.. uhm, silly? so like, I show her my shirt (which had gone somewhat see through due to the friend of the year 7 previously mentioned throwing HER drink at me) and then I'm like, "omg it's like, so wet.. feel it!!"

and so she places her hand on my school shirt real near my chest which is EXACTLY when i thought I had gotten her and so I go, "dang you really just can't get your hands off me, can you?" REALLY loudly and several people look over AND NORMALLY THIS IS WHEN THE OTHER PERSON GETS EMBARRASED?? WHICH WOULD'VE EFFECTIVELY TAUGHT MAGPIE HOW TO DO IT??? but then guess what girly does?

grips my shirt real tight and goes, "wow *name* I didn't expect you of all people to complain, normally you don't.. what's up today?"

JAW DROPPED.

LIKE ACTUALLY GOBSMACKED

MY FLABBERS WERE GASTED YALL.

THAT IS *NOT* A NORMAL OCCURANCE BETWEEN US (other friends maybe-) AND SHES NORMALLY NOT THE TYPE TO FLIRT WITH FRIENDS/PRETEND SHE DOES SEXUAL ACTS WITH THEM SO LIKE???

anyways she lowkey ate with that and I probably looked like an absolute wreck cuz she just laughed and booped my nose-

LIKE GIRL OKAYYY 😭😭🙏

BUT YAAAAA

[themareverine]

Hello gorgeous! We were just talking about it and I decided I simply need to see you bring it to life. Leopold x nerdy, funny, invisible reader? Fic, blurb, head canons, dealer’s choice:) I trust that this ask is in the most capable of hands🫶

— Fate and God

Leopold Mountbatten x fem!reader

tags: fluff, some angst, Princess Diaries vibes kinda, reader is a former love of Stewart's, first kiss.

a/n: ahhh! Miranda! coming for my feels with this ASK. I'm sorry this took FOREVER, but life being what it is, and my obsessive compulsion to make this perfect (didn't happen) prolonged this. Enjoy it, I hope it fits!

MASTERLIST | NAVIGATION

“I really do think you’re overthinking this, princess.” 

Stewart doesn’t even bother looking up from the screen of his computer, fingers plucking over keys one by one as he attempts to compile an email. He’d never really bothered to learn how to type properly – the smartest she knew, he was reduced to caveman status while at the keyboard, head bobbing between checking the screen and his keyboard like a chicken. 

Her hands drop from lifting her hair into a would-be style, if it were longer. Fuller, prettier, straighter. Shoulders slumping forward, she begins wrangling it back into a clip, ignoring Stewart’s offhand comment – there was no such thing as overthinking an afternoon out with the man out of time, Leopold. The weird Duke from the 18th century. 

Eighteenth? Maybe it was the 19th century—who was counting?

 “I bet you never said that when we were dating,” blowing out an exasperated breath, she adjusts her glasses back into place, “if you only knew the hours I spent preening like some bird to impress you, Stew — hasn’t Kate taught you anything about women?” 

“Kate never takes long getting ready,” his head finally lifts, eyes casting over her seriously, “she doesn’t put much thought into her appearance.” 

“That’s because she looks like she’s stepped off the cover of Vogue at all hours of the day,” Stewart was likely to hear her eye roll more than see it, given how hard her eyes consider the ceiling, “some of us, unfortunately, aren’t graced with natural, effortless looks. Some of us poor fools actually have to try.” 

Typing stops, only for a second. “I always thought you were naturally pretty, princess.” 

That name. An unfortunate side effect of their relationship, Steward hadn’t stopped calling her by her college nickname even a decade after they’d graduated. 

Now everyone called her princess, from her parents to her brother to her unfortunate colleagues at work who had tragically stumbled upon her email thread with Stewart perpetually hanging out in her inbox. Kate, even meeting her just ten days ago, had started calling her honey. 

The only person who addressed her by her full name was Leo. She’s still unsure if that feels right or not – it’s difficult to discern the swirl of heat his attention spins through her blood. 

The last two weeks have been little more than fairytale, skirting in and out of conversations and navigating New York at Leopold’s side — he was like an awakened child. Curious and imaginative, sweeping and charismatic. 

His charm was endless, the innocent boyishness behind his eyes only ever as fleeting as his sharp wit. He could have her laughing one moment only to be knee-deep in the politics of the world the next, discussing everything from political science to history to art and, her favorite, literature. 

Every morning this week they’d ventured to the corner bookshop to browse the endless spines of titles, only to never really buy anything — it was far more fun to pluck interesting titles and read the first page and make assumptions. 

Leopold was well read and curled his nose at just about every modern title that managed into his hands, though he had mused at her latest interest. Three Bags Full had snagged her attention right away, and some time (and four pages) had passed before he’d managed to snap her attention back into the real world.

She’d almost fainted dead away when Leo had forcibly taken it from her to purchase it with whatever funds Stewart had provided, insisting great offense if she should deny him. Accepting it graciously and with a blushing smile, she’d looped her arm his proffered one and escorted him across the street to the coffeehouse they’d frequented every morning since her arrival to the city. 

“I’ll let you read it first, Leopold,” she’d scooted the book across their shared outdoor table with light fingers, “Stewart can always mail it back to me when you’re gon—” 

His jaw had clamped at the mention of leaving, muscle ticking with the strain of a refrained frown. “I should think not,  my dear – there’s little time to read when the world teems with new curiosities. I’ll have my fill of reading when I—” hesitating, he’d sat back in his chair with a rare absence of grace, “ — no, thank you.” 

She’d chewed the inside of her cheek at his dismissal. Leopold hadn’t resigned himself to the inevitability of returning to his time. Understandably so. The idea of their world shifting back to not having him around plunged an unspeakably deep, sour knife between her ribs. 

Her very own Prince Charming in her very own fairytale. Doomed to return to the pages of history – it was more horrific than it sounded. Actively choosing not to dwell on it, she’d slipped the book into her bag, out of sight. 

They’d returned to enjoying their drinks outside, a right of passage that hadn’t changed. An Americano and simple black tea, each time. They couldn’t be more different as they solve the world’s problems,  she thinks. 

And yet so perfectly similar. 

“I think if you leave some down, it would look nice,” Stewart’s tone is genuine, soft. “Though I don’t think he’d really care either way.” 

“You say that like I care,” it's too defensive.

“You do.” 

Stewart’s reflection staring at her in the mirror triggers her attention back from the memory of the bookstore.

Eyes flicking up to his in the reflection, Stewart gently reaches to pull at the familiar face-framing curls. He’d always liked her wearing her hair like this. Her bottom lip rolls inward, beneath her teeth. 

Heat creeps up her neck and she breaks eye contact with him in the mirror. 

“I don’t –” it’s too quick, too breathless to be sincere. Stewart knows her better. 

“You do, and it’s ok,” he gently squeezes her shoulder, the corner of his mouth ticking up in a placating, almost sorry, smile.

“You deserve to be happy, princess,” his nose wrinkles a little with amusement as she rolls her eyes, “and I haven’t seen you this happy in a long time.” 

The less people who see me the better. 

And it is better, less painful. Though the idea of Leopold never seeing her again is suffocating. She may well be dracula, coffin nailed closed, slowly passing time in the darkness – alone, and soul hungry for a man she was never supposed to meet.

Fate is funny how it knits stars together, intertwines futures. Fate and God, only fate and God.  

Swallowing the hopeless idea, she checks her appearance in the mirror for a final time. Adjusts the glasses perched on her nose before her fingers work swiftly to pin the rest of her hair into place. Her eye catches the time on her watch — it’s almost nine.

Leopold will return from his morning walk with Bart, and seeing her, would ask if she’d like to accompany him for morning tea. 

Which meant back to the bookstore they’d go for a repeat performance of yesterday, and the day before. It’s the only thing they’d done on repeat – every other venture had been new. 

The subway system, seeing Lady Liberty, the Met. Pizza from Sylvia’s and every food stand in between, walking countless blocks and discussing everything from religion to poetry to art and space.

Every day he’d accompanied her around the city, allowing Stewart to work without guilt, joining them instead for the night scene. 

And she thinks she could pass lifetimes away with Leopold, wandering Manhattan in the way that star-crossed lovers do. There could hardly ever be anything more romantic. If she were the main character, if this were her story. 

It isn’t, not really. In the scheme of things this is Leopold’s adventure, and she is B story. Well, technically C story— it hardly matters. 

He’s the white-horse, knight-in-shining armor Prince Charming who will return to his time and marry the perfect Cinderella, and she won’t be a closet scriptwriter that spends her vacation in bookstores and reminiscing about her ex-boyfriend….

A knife of ice stabs at the mesh of her ribs, thinking about it. 

….And she will be worthy of Leopold in a way I can never be. 

She doesn’t hear the door close until Leopold’s already steps into the apartment, Bart flying ball in a blur of hair, nails on the floor, and that signature smell of dog. He lands his two front legs  promptly on Stewart’s lap, almost smiling. 

She whirls around on the ball of her foot when Leopold’s hand brushes against her low back, his warmth enveloping her like a mist that makes her start.

Blood kicking against her eardrums, she turns to find that not only has Leo taken the liberty to retrieve her jacket for her, he’s provided his gloves. 

“Shall we go?” His brow crooks in that amazing way she’d only ever seen once before on men, and that was on television — blinking as his smile broadens softly, she nods as he gestures to the window with a gentle nod of his head, “There’s quite a chill in the air this morning, tea would be divine.” 

It’s a departure from his usual, “Will you accompany me out for tea?” and without reading too much into whether he has taken to expecting her company or not, she takes the offered gloves.

Trying to settle the race of her heart against her ribs, she smiles. 

“Sure thing, Leo,” he helps her into jacket, the woolen peacoat snug around the shoulders of her sweater as she buttons it closed. “Lead the way.” 

Black tea and an Americano. It’s basically waiting for them at the front counter. 

“There you are,” the barista eases against the counter, slowly, “was wondering if you’d be buy today, Leopold. They’re saying we could get snow.” 

Unsure if they should be designated to first names after just ten days of frequenting the coffee shop, she doesn’t miss the way the barista smiles at her companion in the biggest, most beautiful way possible. 

Maybe it’s her jade colored eyes, or the subtle piercing in her nose that catches the light in the prettiest way that knocks her confidence down a peg. It feels strangely provocative to be between their conversation, as if she’s an intruder for a moment, Leopold smiling back coolly with warm tones and his low register of a voice.  

But either way, she slips away, to scout out a table, both of their coffees at hand. It isn’t until she’s shrugging out of her jacket that Leo slips up to her side, brow wrinkled in a downtrodden way. 

“Something wrong?” 

Leopold extends her chair for her, and does not sit until she is comfortable. He then begins to shed his own jacket, draping it over his arm as he graciously slips into the chair opposite hers. Nudging his tea in his direction, she warms her hands around the ceramic mug, blowing at the curling steam.

He looks miffed, and she feels his leg drape over the other as his hands fold over his knee. 

“That was rather rude of you,” he intones pointedly, brow arcing again. “Just….abandoning  our conversation with Violet.” Ah, Violet. Jade-eyes was named Violet. His posture corrects as he squares his shoulder, and if she didn’t know better, she could assume he was staring down his nose at her. 

How quaint. 

“Our conversation?” Her breath stutters on a snort as she attempts to cool her drink with a light breath, “I’m not sure you can count it as a threesome when Violet doesn’t even know that I exist,” skipping the tip of her finger around the mug, she smiles at him with a wrinkle of her nose, “I don’t think that girl would register a team of wild horses if they rolled her over, sweet, sweet Leo.” 

He blinks, obviously confused. It takes him a moment to formulate a response. “I—I’m not certain that I follow your reasoning,” brushing a hand against his knee passively, he exhales a little roughly, “explain yourself.” At her surprised blinking, he correct with a proper, “Please.” 

Her brow lifts. “Oh. Well,” she shifts a shoulder, falling back against her chair, “Leopold. Honestly? I get the whole bachelor-at-thirty situation you have going on back home, but you can’t really expect me to believe you weren’t flirting with little miss green eyes over there,” nodding to the counter, her eyes drop to half-mast, “She’s very into you, Leo — anyone can see it.” 

“Into me?” Frustrated, he sits forward to hover over his tea, “Please. I honestly am not —” 

“She likes you, Leopold,” taking a sharp sip, her lip curls at the strength of the coffee’s temperature against her tongue. Unmoving, his lips part in a frazzled O.  “At a base level, sexually.” 

“You mean coitus?” A disgusted awe skips through his tone, his hand moving to skate around his mouth nervously, “I beg your pardon.” 

“Not sure how else to convey it? She’d like you to pursue her romantically?” Making air quotes, her eyes track to the ceiling, “Courtship? Is that what you call it?” Teasing heat slips up from her sternum, fanning up the length of her neck, she feels it blossom across her nose and cheeks. “See?” 

With a small nod she gestures to the counter, triggering his attention over his shoulder. Violet and her other team members whisper violently, looking in their direction. 

That’s how it starts — a few exchanged smiles, some flirtatious laughter over coffee mugs and muffins. It’s the classic genesis to every Hollywood love story basically ever, and it makes her a little sick to her guts thinking about. 

Embarrassed, her eyes flick to the Americano parked in front of her, only for them to glance back to see Violet boldly wiggling her fingers in a cute wave as Leo looks her direction, brow wrinkled and a frown pulling down his features. 

His expression softens for a moment before he looks down at his feet, thoughtful. 

Stomach soured on her drink, nervously her hand flitters to toy with the face framing curls Stewart had encouraged before they’d left. Her leg begins to bounce nervously under the table, and suddenly the back of her throat bottlenecks to the point breathing seems like a chore. 

Biting at her lower lip, her eyes snap up to consider Leopold shifting uncomfortably in his seat, equally stoic. 

“While I must admit Violet is quite charismatic, and lovely,” Leopold’s gaze lands out their window, to the street traffic as he manages a deep, chest-heaving sigh, “I’m afraid she just is not what I would find enjoyable in a partner when it comes to marital considerations.” 

Well, that’s a first. 

Gnawing on her cheek has never been so painful. 

Without adjusting his posture, his eyes move back to her, noticing her hand playing with her hair, “Why are you fretful?” 

Her brows pop up, “I’m not?” 

“You are. You’re pestering at your hair,” he nods, reaching across the table to brush her fingers away, flocking the curl with his finger, “you did so the night we went to the theatre reading and you were called out of the audience, and you did so when you were introduced to Kate’s brother,” his eyes pierce her soul to the very division of bone and flesh, his smile caddish. 

Her inhale is sharp, and hurts her lungs. She chokes on it before puffing it out between her lips dramatically, batting his hand away from rubbing her curl between his fingers. 

“You do it quite regularly when you wish to say something but aren’t sure when to interject.” His smile is quicksilver,  like  a cat cornering a mouse. 

“You are anxious, my dear thing, but about what?” 

The hinge of her jaw fails, her mouth falling open in a little O that robs her of all reason to think. She can’t feel anything but the rush of blood between her ears, the butterflies rising to lift her stomach to the base of her throat. 

Suddenly freezing but somehow molten hot in the coffee shop, she feels the color on her face rise to an alarming red, before her mouth closes and her lower lips slip inward, prompting no response. 

He noticed. Everything. 

Leopold may think he knows her well, but he doesn’t. She’s a master at downplaying her own presence, killing her own heart to make light of situations that would demand she revive it. A lifetime of invisibility, of people-pleasing and chasing validation had made her both master puppet, and puppeteer. 

Swallowing the base of a weak breath, she manages to blow out an unsteady one, pushing her glasses up a little on her nose. 

“Leopold, I really think we —” 

“Do not change the subject,” he matches her hard expression with a huffed sigh. “I know, darling. It’s been quite evident for some time.” 

Oh. 

“How do you—” 

“Stewart,” he smiles at her softly. “We’ve discussed this at quite some length, and he’s confirmed what I’ve suspected these last weeks in your care.” Her face is flaming with a tomato red, she knows, and her bottom lip quivers with the effort to hold back tears. “To say I am flattered would be tragically understated.” 

Leopold’s tone is gravely quiet, hand gently skipping across the table, offered to her. 

“He cares for you very deeply, as do I. We both would like for you to be happy – and I believe, my dear, I can, and will, bring you such happiness. Perhaps maybe not even happiness alone, but content.” 

There’s a slight tremble to his hand, she doesn’t miss the color blossoming on his nose. His voice hesitates, just a warble, but he clears it away with a lift of his chin and a deep, steadying breath. 

“It is my intent to pursue your hand, princess — though I am not sure what that will entail, situations being as they are.” 

Princess. 

It flows from him so freely, so willingly that it terrifies her. 

Her brow canyons with a hard line, and she manages a dismissive huff. Hand flitting through the air, her chair scrapes loudly against the floor as she stands. So abruptly that Leo falls back in his chair just to keep up with her snatching her coat and purse from the windowsill. 

Her name from him follows after her, but it drowns in the blood pistoning in her ears. 

Considering him for no more than a heartbeat, she peels for the door, tripping over her feet once she stumbles out from beneath the shop’s overhead bell. Her hands shake as she fights back into her jacket, frustration reducing the lively bustle of Manhattan to little more than the muted wash of a Monet. 

Her heart fully leaps forward against her breastbone when she hears Leopold call after her, senses his footsteps on the sidewalk. She’s a stroke away from throwing up as her fingers dive into the warmth of her pockets, the webbing of her cheek almost bloody between her teeth.

Calling her by her first name with his rich accent causes her to whip around, stumble backwards a few seconds. He comes up on her quickly, breathing hard, eyes skating through hers, white and wild with alarm. An unspoken fear she’s only ever seen on paper. 

Looking for mercy, brimming with desperation. 

“Leopold, please,” her hands fly up in surrender, “I’d really rather not discuss this, please? I think we should go home, and just —” it dies quickly when he closes the distance between them, grabbing at the front of her jacket to pull her into a hard, forceful kiss.  

Fear grips her viscerally for all of a few seconds, the surprise of the moment snatching away her breath to the point of panic. But his taste is so good — crisp and clear, deep in a way she’s only ever dreamed. Leopold is suddenly everywhere, hungrily skating his tongue against hers messily. Wordlessly asking for the return that she is bound, body and soul, to give. 

He’s never kissed before, she can tell. He pulls and pushes and prods in all the awkward ways one does when learning the art, but he sighs against her mouth like she’s Aphrodite and he is starving of her. Every knock of his teeth against hers sends her keening, her spine numb with the warm honey of desire, of yes. 

His hand is warm as it cups her cheek, thumb skipping over the wild blush on her cheeks. Breathless and burning, she breaks their kiss. Not realizing she’s clinging to the lapel of his coat, her teeth tease her bottom lips. 

Shallow breaths rabbit in and out of her chest, and she can’t bring herself to look up at him, not yet. Too afraid it will shatter everything, break the glass ceiling of her limits. 

Standing there, breathing hard, she can feel his heartbeat beneath her hand at his chest. 

“I desire your happiness, my princess,” he says quietly, breath warm as his hands move to hold hers in place, “Do I make you happy? Will you be happy?” His eyes close, his whisper hanging there as he lowers his nose to brush the end of hers. 

Leopold’s lips clumsily skip over hers, and she reaches a hand to brush at fresh tears on her face. She doesn’t realize her hand is shaking until Leopold’s eyes open, studying her as he takes her hand in his and laces his fingers through hers, tightly. With a gentle squeeze, he tugs her a little closer, lifting her hand to press a soft kiss to the inside of her wrist. 

“Leopold, I —” she swallows protest, but her head persists, “—it’s been ten days,” she bites the corner of her lip again, attempting to put distance between them, “I’m not the kind of girl you want, Leo. I’m not a Violet, or a Kate. I’m — I’m just me.” Sighing, her eyes pinch closed. “The world says you marry someone else, Leopold. Someone not like me. I’m invisible, you shouldn’t see me. We’re in different classes, different worlds.” 

Broken, the words clog her throat. Emotion grips her vocal chords like it demands ransom. 

The look of devastation on his face is sincere as his hand gently lifts to spin one of her curls around his finger, “How am I to be in a world that does not have you, when you have so swiftly become mine?” 

Shaking his head, his eyes sparkle as his hand brushes her cheek, “Say that you love me. I will simply cease in purpose if you don’t.” 

Lips parting, she swallows the growing moisture in her mouth, hardly able to process the fullness of his statement. Love? His world? Is this even real? She’s not sure if time has stopped, or if she’s dying. 

World little more than a blur of Manhattan steel and concrete around them behind fresh tears, she breathes deeply of his scent, which clings to the clothes he has borrowed from Stewart. There are a thousand questions, maybe more, that she doesn’t understand — that she can’t bring herself to ask. 

Asking always ruins everything. 

Fingers twisting into the front of his shirt, she lifts on her toes to brush her mouth along his jaw, Leopold angling to capture her mouth with his in a slow, uncertain kiss. Gently guiding him with a finger beneath his chin, she sighs a little when his arms fully find her, pressing her close. 

Brushing noses with him again, her nod is small. “I love you, Leo,” his sharp little inhale excites her in a way that makes her burn, “I’ve waited my entire life for you.” Wrapping her arms around his neck, she buries her nose against his shoulder in a tight hug, trying not to cry. 

“I know,” he whispers quietly, a smile forming in his words, “and I am right here.” 

[viki23spots]

Ok, so I have been falling deep into the Marauders fandom for like a month now and I was thinking...

Imagine a fic formed mostly of short stories, but from the pov of a passerby. Like some girl having the misfortune (or fortune) to stumble across wolfstar in an empty classroom, jegulus in an broom closet or jíly blushing on patrol (not sure which ship I would like to write about since I like them both) the marauders while mastering a prank, and just having the luck to stumble across all the secrets of the marauders because of SOMETHING (I still haven't thought of what, but it would be like fate, or maybe the castle itself for some reason idk) and everyone except her is very annoyed about it. Like she is fine with it, since she loves gossip, but won't tell anyone except 1-2 close friends who don't gossip unless it is with her, so the secrets are mostly safe.

And to give her more character I was thinking to kinda just write it like it's me, who stumbles upon them (and because as a fan I do stumble upon them, since I read fics about them, so it would be easier to write) and to have like few other ocs, because I can and I want to practice writing people that I actually know (like the friends she gossips with would be based on my actual friends).

And like she would be there, mostly narrating, but still would be a full on fledged character, and luck wouldn't be the only reason she figures out a lot of stuff (like she would figure out that Remus is a werewolf, because her parents work with magical creatures and half humans, and she always was interested in their work, and she has friends who are werewolfs and also knows them on deeper level as a species)

So, would anyone be interested in reading that? It might take a while, since I would have to practice writing, because I rarely do, but I think it would be so cool. Also If you know any fics like that, please tell me, I would love to read it.

Last, but not least, since Remus is named after one of the first kings of Rome, whose brother was named Romulus, the other first king of Rome, I was toying with the idea of Remus having a twin brother or smt. But it may be a lot for one fic, although I think it would make it more interesting.

I would highly appreciate feedback on the idea. Thank you for reading my Ted talk and have a nice day!

[lionacuty]

sorry I creaturefied another fazbear frights book protag, it will happen again :3c so here's Greg and Fetch Sparky, lovely pupper who's tots done nothing wrong <3

some au yapping under the cut n a doodle page, here's a link to another post with 3 other fazbear frights protags (aka the ones from the first book lolz)

so ya know how at one point in Fetch, Fetch gets beat down by Greg using a metal bat? cuz here in aatau Fetch still survives that buuuuuuuut, bro get's ejected from his physical body </3 so like he's still here but he can't do shit, so like that happens and he wonders around, gets found by Lolbit who after taking a look at his code and doing a bit of research on what he is, they proceed with a big overhall of bro's coding, making it more sophisticated like, you'd have to ask him to kill someone if that's ur intent, so like he's way more advanced than he used to be, also got a small redesign and was renamed after a in universe rumor about a secret fith actor at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza of a dog character of the name of Sparky so yaaaaa, that's why he got a new name too ALSO ALSO, he can take commands more than by text or by thought!! aka he will respond to vocal commands + he can speak!! (albeit it's kinda rough but it works + probs some improvements happens along the way also he will pronounce the emoticons as the the characters that they comprise of so ya) alsoooo he helps around the Pizza Plex along side Lolbit n Helpy <3 very helpful pupper, he's a very good boy and Lolbit made sure of that <3

so in short, the Fetch storie goes as normal until the beat the shit out of the dog, Fetch looses access to his physical body so he wanders around a as bundle of code/shadow looking dog, get's found by Lolbit, code overhall + redesign + new name + new stuff added, now beloved pet of Lolbit n Helpy + helps around the Pizza Plex :3

so ya byeeeeeee, until next time where I'll probs drop some art about au events this time (taking an actual pause on refs for real this time)

[evangelinescherryblossom]

Wanna be my opening singer?

summary:chris’s team recently sent you an email requesting if you would be able to be the opening singer at his concert,whatv happens when your there?

pairings:hannahmontana!reader x popstar!chris

warnings:teasing,cursing.

not proofread!

my first language isnt english!

Your team answered to the email that you would be able to be there as opening singer,and you were super scared.When your team told you your eyes widened and your eyebrows frowned “the Chris sturniolo wants me to be his opening singer?,is this a joke?,you have to be kidding right?” you said clearly shocked,and your manager answered “no its not a sick joke,he wants you there and its tomorrow so you better get your act together and find something to wear and the songs your gonna play is already in an email sent to you” and he topped it off with an “dont emberass yourself” how rude,you rolled your eyes at him and left,but as you were driving home it kicked in,you are gonna meet the chris sturniolo,the popstar you’ve admired for god knows how long..you went home and immediately searched an outfit to wear,because you hated it when your team chose your outfits for you.Why do they have to do something i can do better?,so you always chose how you looked and your clothes by yourself,your team only does the booking and all the rest,wich is the only thing why you have them to be honest..you hate most of them,how rude they are and how they basically only work for the amounts of money you pay them,you snapped yourself out of your thoughts and walked into your closet,and chose a white undershirt,with a sparkly pink long spaghetti strap top for over it and some hannah montana blue flared jeans,your own brand obvi,and some white leather boots.

Friday night 7:30PM may 21st

you stand on stage,singing your song ‘you’ll always find your way’,and people seem to absolutely love it.Theyre yelling and screaming the lyrics of the last song with you,because the actual concert starts in 10 minutes..you were happy seeing so much people knowing your songs,the songs you wrote..,maybe if you do more opening shows more and more people will start listening to you,you snap out of it and after the song get off stage,but hear a manly voice you know all too well “hey peach” you turn around and see him,the christopher sturniolo “hey chris,whats with the nickname?” he looks at you,the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile “dont know,you look nice” your cheeks turned a rosy pink colour “dont you have to get on stage soon?” chris looks at you akd his smile dropped “you tryna get rid of me peach?” you look up at him and your smile dissapeared,and it turned into a frown “no,no i didnt mean it like that im so-“ chris cut you off and chuckled “it was a joke peach,but uhm can you write your number somewhere,maybe we can go out for coffee sometimes” you crack a smile,and you grab your purse,looking for a pen and maybe a receipt or something,and when you found it you quickly wrote your name and number on the back of the receipt “here you go” chris answered “gotta get on stage now,see you soon peach” and he grabbed the receipt and got on stage.

sorry this is kinda short but i mean enjoy!

taglist: @jensturnss @sturns-mermaid @sofiehigdon3 @http-bellaa @courta13 @tezzzzzzzzzzz

[greenglowinspooks]

(DCXDP) The obligations of a rogue versus those of a parent (Pt. 5)

—

Tw: torture scene (GiW agent receiving), general angst, canon-typical violence (DC), nobody is having a good time

Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually

(Masterlist/subscription post)

—

It was pretty easy for Danny to forget that Dr. Crane was a rogue at times.

Most of the time he wasn’t comically evil, like what he’d expect of a Gotham rogue. He was helping Danny, even if only because he didn’t want to be taken in by the GiW as well. He was even downright nice most of the time, or at least neutral.

Sure, he had a strange obsession with fear and psychology, but that wasn’t really out of the ordinary for Danny. It didn’t feel like living with a rogue, just like…staying with a distant relative, or something.

He seemed like just an ordinary person.

Today, though, Danny was brought back to reality.

The GiW agent they’d tracked down together writhed on the ground, screaming in pain and terror. Scarecrow was sat a few feet away, setting up a syringe of the antidote he’d made.

After a few more moments, he injected the man with the antidote, watching him like a hawk the entire time.

Suddenly, the man surged forward, lunging at Scarecrow with a feral scream.

Unluckily for him, though, he was still weak from the fear toxin in his system, and from the beatings he’d received prior. Scarecrow easily wrestled him to the ground, settling himself on the broad part of the agent’s back with a vice grip on one of his arms.

“Let’s try again,” he said sharply, all of the warmth Danny had grown used to gone from his voice. “Where is the GiW base of operations?”

The agent took several shuddering breaths before spitting at Scarecrow, defiance and hatred written all over his face.

For just a moment, the room was utterly silent.

“Fine, have it your way.”

Scarecrow began to twist the man’s arm further. It wasn’t long before the agent began to squirm, then writhe, beneath him. Danny’s stomach churned.

“You know,” Scarecrow began, almost conversationally, “there are plenty of jobs that one can get without the use of their legs, especially with the level of education you have. Anything that doesn’t involve hard labor, really.”

The man’s face was beginning to turn red in his struggle not to scream. He took in gasping breaths, the way that his mouth moved almost reminding Danny of a goldfish.

(He felt awful for the comparison, but it was true.)

“However,” Scarecrow continued, “I find you’d be rather hard-pressed to find a job without the use of your arms. Especially in a place like Gotham, where you can always be replaced by someone eager to do your job for even less money. Of course, you could most likely coast off of savings and severance pay for a while, but…”

He leaned closer to the man’s head, his voice lowering.

“Would you be able to live like that? To live with yourself, if you no longer have a purpose?”

He allowed the agent a few seconds of rest before increasing the pressure on his arm. The agent gasped, letting out a strangled hiss. His arm bones were making fascinating noises in response to the strain. Danny felt sick.

“You seem like a rather driven young man. I’m sure your family would hate to see you unmotivated, directionless. Would they resent you, do you think?”

“Fuck you, you—”

The man was cut off by his own scream as Scarecrow finally allowed his arm to break, audibly splintering into thousands of useless shards of bone.

He had the exact pressure memorized. Clearly, he had done this before.

This was wrong. This was wrong.

Shouldn’t Danny step in, do something?

“That won’t heal cleanly. Even with the best medical care in the world, you’ll end up with permanent damage.”

The man below him wheezed and sobbed, choking on air as Scarecrow let go of his arm carelessly, letting it flop back onto the ground.

“Just the sort of thing something like you deserves,” Scarecrow hissed, his voice cold.

“You tortured a child, and you enjoyed it. You laughed with your friends about it. In your notes, one of your friends complained about the screaming,” Scarecrow brought his leg around, grinding his boot into the man’s broken arm. He howled in agony, writhing uncontrollably.

“Was it inconvenient to him, do you think? Too loud? If you were joking about it, clearly you thought so, too. I could fix that as well.”

He drew out another needle, this one once again filled with fear toxin.

“Scarecrow, wait,” Danny choked out.

Scarecrow turned to look at him.

Even his posture was different than usual. He looked… stiff, more like an animal than a man. When he tilted his head at Danny in a silent question, it looked like something in his neck had snapped, his head lolling to the side.

Danny wondered if he was consciously moving like that, or if it was habit at this point.

“You—we don’t have to do this. We can get information some other way, right? You don’t have to…”

Danny looked down at the GiW agent below Scarecrow. He didn’t even have it in him to glare up at Danny like he had before. Instead he laid limply on the ground, tremors rolling through his body uncontrollably.

“We’ve exhausted every other option and you know it,” Scarecrow said, his voice low, “this is the only way we can move forward.”

“Still, I—I don’t,” Danny swallowed, his throat tight, “this isn’t—this isn’t right. Isn’t there some other way to do this? Like—a truth serum, or something?”

“Truth serums are notoriously unreliable. They’re almost as bad as lie detectors. We’re much more likely to get a reliable result from this.”

Danny just stared at the GiW agent and his splintered, ruined arm. He began to weakly wriggle in Scarecrow’s grasp, which was graciously ignored.

He vaguely remembered himself doing the same thing when he was on the operating table; even if he knew there was no chance of escape, he still thrashed and screamed, desperate to get away. The jagged I-shaped incision on his torso felt uncomfortably warm.

What was there left to say?

“The Bat does the same thing at times, you know,” Scarecrow said, “him and the rest of his brood. By using my toxin, I’m actually lessening the amount of permanent damage that I’m doing. Physically.”

“Still, that doesn’t make it right,” Danny said desperately. “Even if—even if everyone in the world did this, it wouldn’t make it right.”

Scarecrow hummed.

They were both silent for a moment.

His next words were gentle, absurdly so when compared to the scene in front of him.

“I would love an alternative. But…”

He shrugged, hand coming to rest on the break in the GiW agent’s arm. Even without applying any pressure, the man stopped squirming immediately.

“There aren’t any other options,” Danny repeated, his voice flat and his body numb.

“Yes,” Scarecrow said. “I’m sorry.”

There was a pause. No one moved a muscle. Eventually Scarecrow spoke again, his voice strangely empty.

“You can stand outside and keep watch, if you’d like. At such a short distance their radars won’t pick us up.”

Danny said nothing, leaving the room silently.

He sat outside for quite a while.

He was grateful that Scarecrow had, with his help, dragged the agent to one of his previous hideouts. It was soundproofed, after all.

He was glad that he didn’t have to hear the rest of what Scarecrow did to the man.

After what felt like an eternity, Dr. Crane left the building, joining him outside. He guided Danny back to his beat up old truck and they drove home in silence.

“Did you at least…do you know where they are, now?” Danny asked as they entered the apartment, his voice small.

“They didn’t share the details of all of their locations with any one person. I know where one of their locations are, but not their main base of operations.”

Danny felt disgusted. With himself, with Dr. Crane, with the GiW.

He was disgusted by the agent, too. Did he just hate the restless dead so much that he would prefer to be tortured than to give them the upper hand? Did he really think he was in the right?

Was there a chance that he was?

Danny felt very, very small, and very stupid. Stupid and weak and cowardly.

“Danny,” Dr. Crane spoke, his voice soft.

“I’m truly sorry that this is happening to you. I really, truly wish that you didn’t have to endure my company. I…”

He fell quiet. Danny wondered if he was just saying this to pacify him, or if he truly meant it. He wondered if it really mattered in the end.

After a few moments of silence, Dr. Crane sighed, looking truly pained.

“I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

Danny was quiet.

“I’m going to bed early,” he finally said, turning away and leaving without a second glance.

—

[epicfirestormer]

(holds all three in my hands) I just think they're neat

[moeblob]

Nines: ... you make a solid case, Sixty.

[doyoubelieveinwhateverr]

One person asked and that's enough! (Also, thank you @moonlit-delight these kinds of tag comments are the serotonin boost I yearn for)

So the short version: Jokul Frosti is essentially Jack Frost's serious Winter-Embodiment alter-ego.

Long version: After a few decades of screwing around with his Winter powers, Jack figures out he can kind of shape-shift into something resembling an 'older', much more impressive-looking version of himself with greater access to a broader range of powers (trade off of course being way more drained and tired as a result).

Jack being Jack, of course takes the opportunity for mischief, gives this form the name of 'Jokul Frosti' as it almost sounds like his real name and the Real Jokul Frosti from Scandanavia has been long gone for a while (headcanon here being that it's common for spirits to take the names and identities of other spirits so long as those particular beings have been dead/off the grid for a long enough time) and starts acting like the two forms are two different beings; Jack Frost is funny, impish and free spirited, while 'Jokul Frosti' is aloof, powerful and mysterious.

He immediately notices a difference in treatment towards the two identities, even before this new identity has an established personality. The same people who showed disinterest or outright derision for Jack Frost show only the utmost respect and even Fear to Jokul Frosti, to the point where it seemed like Jokul was considered royalty in comparison to Jack. It even goes so far that Jokul Frosti is appointed by Mother Nature to be the Embodiment of Winter (MN obviously knows the truth but keeps the secret at Jack's request, cuz it do be kinda funny).

Jack keeps up the charade for years, partly because it's fun, partly because he actually does like being treated seriously and with respect from time to time. But during a particularly dark time in his spirit life, feeling unwanted and out of place (coughManintheMoonbeingnegligentandnotgivinghimtheguidanceheneedstoliveahealthyadjustedlifecough) Jack essentially attempts to 'do away' with his Jack Frost identity and live as Jokul, but this turns into an identity crisis/major depression session and suffers an emotional breakdown for a few years, resulting in the creation of new beings aptly referred to as 'The Children of Jokul Frosti' (or in more crass terms: Jokul Frosti goes on a breakdown bender and has a bunch of children to fill the void).

Luckily, he manages to get a hold of himself, safely living his double life again, enjoying his extensive downtime as Jack while Jokul is in 'deep slumber' (common for powerful spirits) and playing his 'serious' mode and actually being a decent parent to his children as Jokul, something that's apparently abnormal for Winter spirits but hey, who's gonna risk telling that to Jokul?

How does he avoid the classic 'have you ever seen Jack and Jokul at the same time' dilemma? Easily. He just spreads a rumour that 'Jack' did something to get in 'Jokul's' bad books and now whenever 'Jokul' awakens, 'Jack' skips town and goes into hiding until it's 'safe'.

This is perfectly healthy and will not backfire at all, so long as nothing out of left field happens, like the Guardians needing Jokul's help or knowledge for something because then Jack's gonna need to either come clean or pull off some very impressive double-act work to keep his secret.

Jokul Frosti aka Jack Frost GodMode