#memes getting in your head and not leaving

[hoshifighting]

𖧷 crybaby

— synopsis: seungcheol can’t help but be a crybaby every time you break his heart, yet he always comes running back to you, desperate for your attention. even when you leave him cold for days or push him away, he can’t seem to stay away. his friends and family don’t get it—they hate how you treat him.

— WC: 4.6k — WARNINGS: agnst, smut, emotionallly detached!reader, emotionally attached!seungcheol, crying, he kind of pisses his friends and family out because of his whiny ass, explicit language, blowjob, cock riding, clit stimulation, face slapping, choking. — inspired by: cry baby by megan thee stallion — ''his friends and his dad hate me, I broke his lil' heart, he's a crybaby"

seungcheol was such a fucking crybaby. like, how does a man that big, that beefy, built like he could crush a watermelon between his thighs, have the emotional resilience of a damp tissue? 5′10 of pure gym dedication and somehow, here he was, sulking like a kicked puppy in the corner of his own damn birthday party. honestly, you broke his heart so many times you’d lost count, but the man was like a boomerang—always came back. didn’t matter how hard you threw him.

his friends absolutely hated you. well, maybe hate was strong—more like they hated how he acted because of you. jeonghan said you lived rent-free in his head, which you knew was true. but the real kicker was his family. they couldn’t stand hearing your name. apparently, he cried into his whiskey glass over you at his last family dinner. like, straight-up sniffles and shaky voice in front of his dad. the boys’ nights weren’t any better; they’d barely crack open a soju bottle before seungcheol was teary-eyed, rambling about you like you were the love of his life and not the emotional hurricane you were.

but that’s the thing, though. seungcheol was built for family. the whole package—white picket fence, Sunday brunches, PTA meetings. meanwhile, you were emotionally unavailable as fuck. couldn’t even commit to a favorite boba flavor, let alone a relationship. and now, you’d ghosted him for a week. a whole-ass week. no texts, no calls, not even the stupid memes you usually sent him at 3 a.m.

today was his birthday. his fucking birthday.

the party at his place was in full swing—laughter, good food, good drinks, jeonghan and mingyu lowkey roasting him about his “girlfriend” (air quotes and all). his parents were there too, of course. his brother had even flown in. but cheol barely moved from the couch all night. just sat there, one arm slung over the backrest, looking at his phone like a guy waiting for a miracle.

because in his head, if you were his girlfriend—like, properly his—you’d be here. with him. celebrating, holding his hand, maybe sitting in his lap. but instead, he got radio silence.

“bro, seriously, what the fuck is your problem?” jeonghan hissed, leaning over the couch to snatch the beer from cheol’s hand. “your mom’s asking why you look like you’re about to cry into the birthday cake.”

“i’m fine,” cheol muttered, but even he didn’t sound convinced.

“no, you’re not. you’ve checked your phone like a hundred times, and it’s giving ‘sad loser.’ cut it out before mingyu makes a meme out of you.”

but cheol didn’t cut it out. he just stared at the screen, lips pulled into a pout so tragic it could’ve been a fucking Greek play. the hours dragged. one by one, people started leaving, and eventually, it wasn’t even his birthday anymore.

august 9th. 9:54 p.m.

cheol sighed, running a hand through his hair, looking like he was about to combust.

and then, his phone buzzed.

one message.

from: future girlfriend ❤️ - “come over.”

that’s it. two words, no explanation. cheol shot up from the couch so fast he nearly knocked over the coffee table.

jeonghan raised an eyebrow. “where the hell are you going?”

cheol didn’t answer. he was already grabbing his keys, muttering something about how he’d “she texted me.”

he hard his friend groan out in defeat, disappointment, some even surprised that seungcheol would leave his own party like that.

while you were still just chilling at your place, sitting there like nothing had happened, waiting to see if this man who you’d left on read for a week would actually show up.

spoiler alert—he would.

the door wasn’t even locked—like you’d left it wide open for him, knowing he’d come running the second you told him to. seungcheol stepped inside your apartment, and it was so you in a way that made his chest tighten. that familiar scent? god, it was everywhere. in the air, clinging to the couch, the walls, probably gonna soak into his clothes and stay there for days, torturing him. like you’d marked your territory without even trying.

he moved on autopilot, his feet carrying him down the hallway to your bedroom like he didn’t even need directions. the door was cracked open, and he froze for a second when he saw you.

you were standing there, slipping a sheer robe over your shoulders��transparent. and it wasn’t doing a damn thing to hide you. the way the fabric barely skimmed over your hips, nipples peeking through, leading his eyes all the way down to the hem that just teased your thighs… it was insane.

you turned your head slightly, catching him in the doorway like some kind of lost puppy. your expression was unreadable, but he looked at you like you were magic or something—eyes wide, lips slightly parted. pathetic.

you stepped toward him, and before he could even process it, his hands moved to your waist like they belonged there. your arms looped lazily around his neck, and the warmth of your skin had his breath hitching. you glanced over his shoulder at the clock on the wall—10:01 p.m.—then met his gaze, your lips curling.

“happy birthday… birthday boy,” you said, your voice smooth as velvet.

he exhaled shakily, his eyes fluttering shut like the sound of your voice was too much. his brows knit together in that pitiful little frown you’d missed more than you cared to admit.

“why’d you leave me like that?” he muttered, voice cracking slightly. “did… did i do something? i’m sorry, i—”

you didn’t answer, didn’t even flinch, because honestly? you didn’t have a reason. there was no deep, dark explanation, no hidden agenda. you just did.

instead, you pushed him backward toward the bed, your hands firm on his chest. he stumbled slightly but kept talking, his voice climbing higher in pitch.

“please, just—just tell me. what did i do? i can fix it, i swear, just—”

you pushed him harder this time, and he landed on the bed with a bounce. he stared up at you, eyes glassy, lips trembling. “answer me,” he whined, his voice soft and desperate.

“shhh,” you hushed, pressing a finger to his lips.

he whimpered at the touch, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “why—why won’t you just—”

your hand came down on his cheek in a sharp slap. not too hard, but enough to make him moan, his mouth falling open in a perfect little “o.”

“quiet,” you said firmly, watching as his expression shifted. the sting seemed to zap the fight out of him, his mouth closing into a pout as his tears spilled over.

“aww,” you cooed, leaning down to brush your thumb under his eye. “don’t cry, birthday boy. let me give you a gift.”

his gaze flickered immesiately. a gift? he nodded eagerly.

“you gonna be good for me?” you asked, tilting your head.

“y-yeah,” he stammered, his voice so small it made you smile.

your hands moving to his belt. the way he watched you, like you were about to destroy his dignity, was almost comical.

you tugged his pants and underwear down in with a graceful sweep, leaving him bare and exposed. his cock was already rock hard, flushed red and leaking precum that smeared against his stomach.

“look at you,” you teased, wrapping a hand around the base. his breath hitched at the contact, his hips jerking slightly. “crying all over yourself, huh?”

he let out a choked whimper, his hands fisting the sheets beside him. “i—i can’t help it,” he whispered.

“poor baby,” you mocked, your thumb swiping over the tip to collect the sticky wetness. his whole body twitched at the motion, his eyes squeezing shut as more tears slipped down his cheeks.

you leaned down, letting your lips hover just above him. “you’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you? never let you have it before, but tonight… you’re special.”

he nodded frantically, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. “please,” he begged, his voice breaking.

you smiled, finally taking him into your mouth. the heat and wetness made him sob outright, his hands flying to your hair but stopping short—like he was scared to touch you without permission.

“oh—fuck, fuck, fuck,” he babbled, his thighs trembling as you worked him over. your tongue dragged along the veins as your hand played with his balls, and he keened, his head falling back against the pillows.

“so good,” he choked out, tears streaming down his face. “m-missed you.”

you hummed around him, and the vibrations nearly sent him over the edge. his whole body tensed, his hips bucking slightly as he moaned your name.

“gonna be good for me?” you asked, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze.

“y-yes,” he stammered, his eyes glassy and desperate. “so good, i’ll be so good, please—”

“then take it,” you said, and he did.

your tongue swirled around the swollen tip of his cock, drawing a shuddering breath out of him that turned into a whimper when you pulled back slightly, letting a string of spit connect your lips to his flushed skin. his chest heaved, his abs clenching under the weight of your stare.

you fold your tongue up and slid along the underside of his length, like you had all the time in the world. his thighs trembled as you worked your way down, your nails scratching lightly along the sides of his hips, keeping him still. by the time you reached his base, his whole body was taut, his hands fisted so tightly into the sheets you thought he might rip them.

“you’re so sensitive,” you murmured, letting your breath ghost over his skin.

“i can’t—” he choked, cutting himself off with a high-pitched moan when your tongue flicked over the soft skin of his balls.

you smiled against him, pressing a kiss to one of the heavy globes before taking it into your mouth, sucking gently. his hips jerked off the bed, but your hand pressed firmly against his stomach, pinning him down.

“stay still,” you ordered.

“i’m trying—fuck, i’m trying,” he babbled, his voice cracking. his head lolled to the side, his lips parted in a silent cry as you continued to suck and lick at him, your tongue tracing slow, wet circles.

your free hand moved back to his cock, wrapping around the shaft and stroking it slowly, your thumb smearing the precum that was steadily leaking from the tip.

“look at me,” you said, your voice softer this time.

his eyes fluttered open, glassy and red-rimmed, his gaze locking onto yours. the sight of you, lips wrapped around him, your hand working him in tandem, had him letting out a desperate, broken sound that went straight to your core.

“you like this?” you asked, pulling back slightly, your hand still stroking him as you kissed along his inner thigh.

“yes,” he gasped, his voice barely above a whisper. “fuck, yes. feels so good.”

“yeah?” you teased, your lips quirking into a smirk as you nipped at his skin. “you’ve been waiting for this? waiting for me to touch you like this?”

he nodded frantically, “always,” he admitted. “always wanted you like this. please don’t stop.”

you purred, letting your tongue glide back up to his base before taking him into your mouth again, this time deeper, letting him feel the heat of your throat. “fuck—oh my god,” he sobbed, his hands twitching at his sides, like he wanted to touch you but didn’t dare.

“go on,” you encouraged, pulling off just enough to speak. “touch me. you’re being good, aren’t you?”

his hands immediately flew to your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands as he let out another choked moan. “yes,” he breathed, “yes, so good, i’ll be so good for you.”

you hollowed your cheeks, bobbing your head slowly, your hand working in time with your movements. his thighs shook beneath you, his breath hitching every time your tongue pressed against the sensitive vein running along the underside of his cock.

“you’re so fucking pretty like this,” you said, pulling back just enough to let your spit-coated hand continue stroking him. “all flushed and crying for me. does it feel that good?”

“so good!” he gasped, tears spilling over again as he bucked his hips involuntarily.

you hummed in approval, your tongue flicking over the tip before dipping lower again, taking one of his balls into your mouth once more. the way his entire body shook beneath you, his voice breaking into desperate little cries—it was everything.

“you’re mine,” you murmured, your voice muffled against his skin. “aren’t you?”

“yours!” he sobbed, his voice cracking. “all yours...”

you pulled back, your lips slick with spit and precum, watching as seungcheol’s chest heaved like he’d just run a marathon. his head was tilted back against the pillows, mouth slightly open, a trail of drool glistening at the corner of his lips. his cock twitched in your hand, still throbbing and leaking like it couldn’t survive a second without you.

“cheol,” you said, your voice sharp enough to cut through the haze.

he didn’t answer. his eyes were half-lidded, rolling back as another pathetic whimper slipped past his lips.

“yah,” you hissed, your free hand moving down to cup his balls, squeezing them just enough to snap him out of it.

he jerked, his hips twitching as a choked cry tore from his throat. his wide, glassy eyes met yours, full of confusion, like he wasn’t sure whether to apologize or beg for more.

“you listening now?” you asked, your tone playful but firm.

“y-yeah,” he stammered.

you smirked, leaning forward just enough to let your breath fan over his cock. “good. now, tell me—do you want me to make you cum like this?” your hand gave his length a slow, deliberate stroke, watching as his eyes fluttered shut again. “or do you want me to ride you?”

his eyes snapped open at the second option, but he still didn’t answer. his mouth opened and closed like he was trying to speak but couldn’t get the words out, and you swore he looked like a little kid trying to pick between candy flavors.

“cheol,” you said again, your grip on his balls tightening just enough to make him yelp. “i’m not giving you both, so choose. now.”

he whimpered, his lower lip trembling as he looked at you like you were some kind of goddess and he didn’t want to disappoint.

“i—i want…” he trailed off, his voice cracking as his cock twitched in your hand again.

“come on,” you urged. “use your words, birthday boy.”

his cheeks flushed deeper, and he swallowed hard before finally stammering out, “i want you to ride me.”

“do you?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as your hand gave him one last teasing stroke.

“mhmm,” he breathed, his voice shaky but certain. “please. want to feel you. need to—need to be close to you.”

you smiled, your chest swelling. “good boy,” you murmured, releasing him completely and watching as he whimpered at the cut-off.

you climbed onto the bed, straddling his hips as his hands immediately flew to your thighs, gripping them like he was scared you’d disappear—again. the way his eyes roamed over your body, taking in every inch of exposed skin through the transparency of the robe, and the big slit that have been created as the robe opened up, made you feel like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

you reached between your legs, guiding his cock to your entrance, letting the tip tease your folds just enough to have him squirming beneath you.

“mm..fuck” he groaned, his head falling back against the pillows. “you’re so wet. is that—fuck, is that for me?”

“all for you,” you lied, he knew you were mocking him as you slowly sank down onto him.

the stretch was so good, never fails to make you arch your back, his cock filled you so perfectly had your breath hitching. but the sound he made was way down pathetic. it was half moan, half sob, like he couldn’t believe this was real.

“oh my god,” he choked, his hands flying to your waist as his hips jerked involuntarily. “you’re so—so tight. best birthday gift ever.”

you rolled your hips slowly, letting him feel every inch of your gummy walls, and his grip tightened, you can feel his strong fingers marking your meat.

“you like being used like this?”

“yes!” he gasped, his voice high and broken. “love it. love you.”

you froze for half a second, the words catching you off guard, but you quickly recovered, your lips curling into a smirk. “that so?”

“yeah,” he breathed, his eyes squeezing shut as you started to move again. “fuck, i love you. love everything about you.”

every roll of your hips, pulled more sounds from him than you thought possible—moans, gasps, sobs, all spilling from his lips like a declaration.

your hips moved in a steady rhythm, dragging his cock in and out of you in a way that made your thighs burn, but the way seungcheol looked at you—like you were the fucking universe—made it impossible to stop. you clenched around him, squeezing tightly, and his mouth fell open, a strained whimper spilling out as his fingers dug into your hips as you rocked your pussy back and forth.

you pushed his shirt up higher, your eyes falling on his chest, where his nipples were flushed a deep red against his tan skin. his brows furrowed in confusion when he noticed your gaze.

“what?” he asked, his voice hoarse and breathless.

“you don’t even know, do you?” you teased, your nails trailing up his chest. “how red they get when you’re about to cum?”

“what?” he repeated, his tone higher this time, all embarassed.

“oh, baby,” you cooed, leaning down to brush your lips against his. “you’re so fucking cute.”

his face flushed even deeper, and you felt his cock twitch inside you as your hands wrapped around his neck. his eyes widened immediately, his breath hitching as he stared up at you, his lips parted in surprise.

“you like this?” you asked, your grip tightening just enough to make his pulse race beneath your fingers.

he let out a strangled moan, his hands flying up to your thighs like he didn’t know whether to stop you or hold on tighter. “y-yeah,” he stammered, his voice cracking. “fuck, yeah.”

“then be good for me, cum for me, cheol. now.”

his entire body tensed, his hips jerking up. you clenched around him again, your grip on his neck firm as you ground down harder as the first waves of your orgasm hit you.

you raised your hips just in time, letting his cock slip out of you as he spilled all over his stomach, ropes of cum painting his skin. his head fell back against the pillows, his chest heaving as he let out a broken sob, his hands trembling against your thighs.

you collapsed onto his chest, your hand moving between your legs to circle your clit frantically, your moans muffled against his ear as you chased the last remnants of your own orgasm.

“oh my fucking god...” you panted, your fingers working faster as your hips ground against his thigh.

he turned his head slightly, his eyes hazy as he watched you, his lips parted in awe. “you’re…so beautiful...”

you moaned loudly as your orgasm hit you, your body shaking against his as you buried your face in his neck, your hand slowing to a stop.

as the high ebbed away, your body melted into his, your limbs heavy and your breath evening out. you let your full weight settle on him, and he groaned softly, the sound less of discomfort and more of deep, satisfied contentment. his arms came around you instinctively, holding you close, his hands splayed wide against your back like he never wanted to let go.

you lay there, your cheek pressed to his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear. you tried to ignore how your own heart raced, guilt creeping in as you replayed the last week in your head.

sometimes, you really felt like shit about the way you treated him. seungcheol was too good for you, with that big heart of his—always giving, always forgiving. the problem wasn’t him. it was you.

you hoped he couldn’t feel the way your heart thudded against his chest, the weight of your remorse making it beat faster.

you lifted your head slightly, pressing soft kisses to his cheek, your fingers tangling in his hair as you gently scratched at his scalp. he sighed, leaning into your touch like it was the only thing keeping him tethered.

“cheol,” you murmured, your voice softer than you planned. “can i give you one more gift tonight?”

he didn’t answer right away. his eyes drifted to the ceiling, a small, thoughtful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“only one?” he asked after a moment.

you hummed, matching his teasing tone. “yeah. just one. better make it count, birthday boy.”

he chuckled softly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. instead, his gaze stayed fixed on the ceiling, his fingers tracing absent patterns on your back.

“i don’t think you can give me what i really want...” he said finally.

you tilted your head, your brows furrowing. “what do you mean?”

he hesitated before he turned his head to look at you, his eyes searching yours.

“i want to be here with you... but knowing that you… that you actually like me back.”

he held your gaze, his eyes raw and vulnerable, waiting for a response that you didn’t know how to give.

“cheol, you know that right now i—” you started, your voice cracking.

but he shook his head, his lips curving into a small, sad smile. “it’s okay,” he said quickly, though the way his arms tightened around you betrayed his words. “i didn’t mean to ruin the moment. i just… i had to say it.”

you didn’t know what to say. guilt churned in your stomach, your heart pounding against his chest as his words echoed in your head.

he deserved so much more than you could give, and yet here he was, holding you like you were his whole world.

seungcheol let out a shaky breath, his thumb brushing absentmindedly against the curve of your spine. “but since that won’t happen…” he trailed off, his voice wistful.

your chest tightened, the words striking a nerve you weren’t ready to deal with. you stayed silent, pressing your cheek against his shoulder, hoping he couldn’t see the way your brows knitted together.

“can you…” he hesitated, his fingers twitching against your skin. “can you come to my birthday party tonight? i know it’s late, but it’s probably still going. i’d love to see you there.”

you froze. you knew what he was asking—he wanted you to show up for him, to step into his world, even if it made you uncomfortable.

“cheol,” you said slowly, lifting your head to look at him. his expression was expectant.

“please,” he added, whispering in an almost pityful way. “just for a little while. it’s my birthday.”

you bit your lip, glancing away. the idea of walking into a room full of people who probably hated you wasn’t exactly appealing, but the way he looked at you, made it hard to say no.

“fine,” you muttered, avoiding his gaze.

“really?” he asked, his face lighting up instantly.

“yeah, really,” you said, rolling your eyes.

he sat up, pulling you with him.

you groaned, pushing against his chest. “ugh, fine. let me get ready, then.”

he followed you into the bathroom like a puppy, leaning against the doorway as you washed your face and fixed your hair. his gaze was soft, trailing over you like he was memorizing every detail.

“stop staring,” you said, your tone sharp but lacking any real bite.

“can’t help it,” he replied, his voice warm. “you’re gorgeous.”

you rolled your eyes again, but your cheeks flushed anyway, and you hated how easily he got to you.

“you should get ready too,” you said, pointing at him with a toothbrush in hand.

“i’m fine like this,” he said with a shrug, gesturing to his wrinkled shirt and jeans.

“you’re not showing up to your own party looking like you just got laid,” you shot back, smirking when his ears turned red.

“fine,” he grumbled, shuffling off.

by the time you were both dressed and ready, the nerves in your stomach were in full swing. seungcheol, however, looked ridiculously pleased with himself, his hand finding yours as he led you toward the door.

seungcheol practically vibrated with happiness as he led you up to the front door of his house. he tried so damn hard to play it cool, to keep his steps measured and his grin from stretching too wide. but his chest felt like it might burst at any moment, the thought of walking in with you by his side enough to make him wanna jump like some kind of elf in a fairytale.

this was it. you were here. about to meet his family, his friends. his whole world.

he took a deep breath and opened the door, immediately met with a chorus of voices.

“finally!” jeonghan shouted, throwing his arms up like he’d been waiting for years.

“where the hell have you been?” his brother added exasperatedly.

seungcheol pressed his lips together, holding back a smile as he glanced over his shoulder at you. “i, uh…” he rubbed the back of his neck, glancing down for a second before looking back up, his voice soft but proud. “i needed to bring someone special before the ‘happy birthday.’”

the room fell silent as you stepped out from behind him, your hands clutching the straps of your bag like a lifeline. your small, tentative smile was enough to stop everyone in their tracks.

you shifted awkwardly under the weight of their stares, the sound of the music thumping softly in the background the only thing filling the silence.

and that’s when it hit them.

oh.

this was the reason seungcheol had been acting so out of character, the reason he’d been spiraling for months. you weren’t just some girl he was into. no, you were a fucking vision. gorgeous in a way that made the room seem brighter. mesmerizing without even trying.

now they understood. now it all made sense.

of course he was crazy over you. of course he’d been spiraling. who wouldn’t be?

but the realization also came with a quieter, more awkward truth: this was the girl they’d all cursed out in private. the girl they’d ranted about after every drunken night where seungcheol had cried into his beer or disappeared to avoid them.

they exchanged quick glances. yeah, they got it now, but it didn’t erase the fact that they’d judged you before even meeting you.

a nagging question none of them dared to voice but couldn’t shake.

were you really worth it?

jeonghan, the one who never held his tongue, raised a brow and smirked. “well, shit. now i get it.”

seungcheol’s face flushed a deep red, his hand instinctively finding the small of your back as if to shield you from the inevitable onslaught of teasing.

but instead of cracking a joke, jeonghan just smiled and nodded, his eyes softening. “welcome,” he said, his voice genuine.

the others slowly followed suit, their smiles tentative but warm as they tried to mask their lingering curiosity.

and as seungcheol led you further into the house, his hand never leaving your back, he felt like he’d just won the lottery. because for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t walking into this house feeling defeated or embarrassed.

this time, he was walking in with you.

© 2024 Hoshi Fighting | All Rights Reserved

[gay-dorito-dust]

lmao this is my first time giving a request. Could you maybe do dick Grayson head cannons?

Most of these hdc come from my little brain that I thought fit Dick in general, it’s not based on stuff (some of them are but not all) if ppl agree or don’t agree, I couldn’t care less honestly. Also thanks for the request anon, hope you like it! 🫶

I know I write him as a little goofy goober but he tends to play up this character so that he doesn’t have to open up about anything. Is it foolproof? Not entirely and it solely depends on the person and their relationship to him,those of whom that pick up what he’s putting down, and those (you) who can easily see through this facade and know something is up.

He’s more often than not the type who will become more affectionate in private where it’s just you, him and Hayley. Dick doesn’t need anybody else other then you two, his confidants as he so playfully called you both one day, and he’s more then content then he’s ever been.

Older sibling syndrome is strong in this boy.

Foot wars are a common occurrence in your shared apartment as you push against the others foot with your own to see who’s going to be victorious, only for you to accidentally smack him in the face with your foot and the foot war becomes ten times worse, seeing as how as Dick often wins them more then you did.

He will never stop feeling guilty about Jason’s death. Never. That boy who was filled with love and life and claimed that being robin was magic was still within Jason somewhere, dick just knows this to be true, even if Jason loves to claims that that little kid was gone.

And while he’s glad that Jason is back in his life, dick couldn’t help but feel as though he could’ve done better by him at times, holding onto that guilt and shame for not being their for his brother that still killed him inside to this day whenever he saw Jason laugh and or smile at something. It hurts but Dick will never stop being in Jason’s corner, not once. If Gotham was against Jason then Dick will gladly be by Jason’s side, to show that his allegiance to his brother would outweigh a lot of things.

(I’m so normal about dick and Jason being brothers can’t you tell 🥲 leave me here and be delusional)

The same applies to Damian also, which is why your mostly acquainted with both Jason and Damian in comparison to the rest of his family because they often come over by pure coincidence, or because dick dragged them by their ears with a smile on his face.

Insists that you cling onto his legs while he does pull ups and or sit on his back while he does push ups as he lets you count.

Complains to you when he looses the nightwing look alike contest, and to Jason no less, which no one that knows him personally allows him to live down.

They (Tim and Stephanie) even make memes out of it.

Has Hayley as his Lock Screen, you as his Home Screen. Both wearing cute matching pyjamas. So when he’s on his phone people think he’s smiling at his picture of Hayley -which is true- but he’s also smiling at the picture of you also.

His family pester him about you a lot, even Bruce asks when he’s going to meet you, claiming he’s not going to get any younger should Dick hold back on introducing you to him.

Even Alfred gets in on this as well but Dick always has an excuse locked and loaded when these questions are asked, but even he knows that Bruce knows that it’s all bullshit, however he doesn’t say anything outright incase Dick didn’t feel comfortable introducing you to them yet.

Wears only boxers to sleep or boxers and a light blue shirt, it depends on what he’s feeling really.

Loves living in the moment with you as you enjoy the others company without feeling the need to fill the air with chatter, you could just both exist and still love each other regardless because Dick didn’t feel the need to talk all the time, so moments like these were what he longed for most.

Ungracefully fell on his ass in fuzzy soaks once and hurt his tailbone in the process. It was funny until he asked to you put a bag of ice on the afflicted area.

Loved narrating what you and or Hayley do in a goofy voice that never fails to make you smile.

Doesn’t open up immediately but once he does it’s a sign of trust. He admits to his flaws in past relationships and how he wasn’t the most faithful and often saw commitment as a challenge. He understands if you see that as a sign to leave the relationship, he doesn’t expect anything from you, but if you did stay then he’s more then happy to not repeat those mistakes in your relationship.

Knows that people see Bruce when they look at him, he expects it because after being with him as long as he has it was only logical that he picked up some habits along the way whether he liked it or not.

Has a big heart but claims that Jason’s heart was twice as big because he’s so full of love and believed in love.

[ethicaltreatmentofcowplants]

And we start off with, well.

Yet another cooking loather, Lee, brings about what may likely be a harbinger of things to come for this household.

No, Lee. Fires do not flee before a zombie imitation, even if yours had actually been a decent one.

Sage, can’t you use your vampire powers to do something about this???

Wow, you become immortal once and everyone assumes you can do everything. Sheesh.

Lilac however very conveniently has a fear of fire to vanquish.

Yes, you do have to do everything yourself around here.

As everyone has been cheated the FOCUSED moodlet, I do have them perform a mental skill building activity every now and then. Lee hasn’t been given a reprieve from cooking, but at least sunshiney Tiago is entertaining him through memes, which he may not necessarily consider to be consolation-

Oh wait - he likes them. Is this the beginning of a beautiful (and surprisingly wholesome) friendship?

Look Ma, no fire! And yes, it's breakfast time ladies, so stop admiring Mister's wood work and head downstairs.

Tiago continues to be entertaining. And Sage enthuses about the thrill of the steal to Giovanna - who is surprisingly into it?

Lee is just getting cozy with Lilac on the ottoman when Forest (who was skill building upstairs and missed the fire) says hey girl, he heard there was a bit of a catastrophe earlier, but luckily he may have found a hose that he can show you upstairs?

(Yeah, today is not Lee's day...)

And this of course brings about chore montage hour! Tiago grinds on handiness, Mister goes fishing, budding buddies Giovanna and Sage tend the garden (with geeky Sage even finding some time to game later) - aaaand rather fittingly, Lee is stuck on cleaning up after the animals 💩

Moojito is likely wondering where that nice young man Spencer got to. He took much better care of her. Hooves down, 2/10, leaving a terrible review on Yelp...

Meanwhile NEAT sim Giovanna is dismayed at the mess in the kitchen, and Forest's sunny post coital bliss isn't enough to stop his EVIL trait from kicking in and slinging some insults Lilac's way. Oof.

@riverofjazzsims @ravingsockmonkey @fl0pera

@igglemouse @panicsimss @simsfvr

[lostintransist]

Seamstress | Part 6

Check out part 1 here.

John texted memes. Something about that surprised you. He presented as such a straight-laced demeanor that the silly text images added a layer of intrigue to the man who already took such care not to share more the bare minimum.

He sent his commentary about his ‘muppets’ as he called the men under his command. The image of a man in suspenders, a tie, and a coffee mug in one hand with the text “If they could just not…” followed by any number of pictures of Jim Hensen’s muppets. It always prompts you to ask for the cleansed version of their nonsense. John had confirmed that the men who had come in asking about him were the men under his command. They were still under orders to leave you and your shop alone. When he mentioned that in the first week of texting you were surprised.

>I can hold my own in my shop John, release them to come by for fixes on anything you haven’t already stolen from their bags.

When he didn’t reply within a few hours you followed it up with.

>Your Scotsman seemed pretty excited about getting a family kilt fixed. Let them come by John. I don’t scare easy.

Halfway across the world, John squints at his phone in the darkness of the safe house he and Johnny are waiting for exfil in.

“What did you say to my girl Soap?” Price questions in the quiet.

Soap jerks from his nodding-off sleep in the corner where he had settled down.

“What’s up boss,” he asks sleepily.

He turned his phone to show Johnny the message from you.

“What did you do to my girl?”

Soap squinted through the brightness blasting his eyes.

“Dinne do nothing Cap. Alls I asked about was a kilt repair. Me granddad’s kilt was given to me when he passed, I want to get it fixed up is all.”

Soap lacked the guile to ever pull off being an undercover agent. John turned the phone back to himself, frowning.

“Fine. You can go visit her. Spread the word, but if I hear any of you gave her a bit of grief?” He let the warning linger unspoken behind his words.

“Got it. Can I go back to sleep now?”

John harrumphs and pulls out a cigar, lighting it up as he contemplates how to reply to you.

<:Rolling eye emoji: Fine, but you let me know if they give you any trouble.

>You reply with a gif of someone giving a salute with the text aye aye captain below it.

Physically rolling his eyes this time John settles in to watch the sky and think of you.

🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡

Christmas had to be the most peaceful one you had ever experienced. Laughing with your aunts and eye contact across the table with your cousins when someone said something wild before taking a sip had never been the norm. Every Christmas season meant spending time with your Mum’s family and her resentful sniffs when Pop would inform you of the times when his sisters might be passing through so you could see them. You think Mum hated that you had real conversations with the other side of your family. Everything on her side sat stilted in past hostiles and clothed in niceness for the sake of Gran who still watched with a sharp eye.

You hadn’t expected any gifts but the highlight had to be the scarf from your favorite cousin. It sat light and delicate on your neck. When you said goodbye to everyone and headed up to the spare room your Nana had set up for you. Settling onto the bed you fired off a text to John.

<Merry Christmas! Did you have a good holiday?

>Decent.

>Merry Christmas.

Attached was a photo of John with what looked like egg nog in his mustache with an arm around a man and woman who also had white streaks along their upper lips. Standing so close together you can see they share the same eye-crinkling smile.

<Aww! You look so cute with your egg-nog mustache! Did someone spike it before cups were passed around?

>But of course, can’t discuss childhood stories without a healthy glug of whiskey. Added enough of a kick that even the scary stories were told with a laugh.

>How has yours gone? You mentioned you would be with extended family up north this year.

<It’s been a blast. Best Christmas I can remember for a long time. I am spending the night with my Nana before driving home tomorrow.

<You have any fun plans between now and New Years?

>Other than deep cleaning the mold from my fridge?

You laugh out loud in the empty room. He probably wasn’t kidding. John had mentioned that he can be called for a job at a moment’s notice and sometimes it leaves him with some nasty surprises when he eventually got home.

<Yes you silly man, other than that.

Those dots went on and off for a long time. When the message finally comes through you are disappointed.

>Nothing crazy, mostly catching up on my shows.

<What like The Golden Bachelor?

You can imagine him fighting down a smile as he contemplates a reply. He isn’t that much older than you, but the way he mothers his men has them calling him ‘Old Man’. John complains about it but always with love.

>The muppets would like to you if you would like to join them for New Years.

>I told them I had plans with you but they insisted and are watching for your response.

Smirking you fired off one last response before starting your bedtime routine.

<Should I wear jeans or a pretty dress?

🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡

Stepping from the cab you wave your thanks and turn to the building. John is standing at the glass door, waiting for you to get close enough that he can welcome you in. You smile at him, excited for his reaction to your dress. It is mostly visible through the undone buttons of your long coat. You had made it yourself, hands cramping late into the night with the number of times you have had to pleat the skirt to sit exactly right. Ironing the piece flat each time you wanted to pleat it slightly differently had been deeply frustrating work.

The black dress wrapped around, sending one tie through the side piece to stretch across your back and meet the other tie to create a bow. The long sleeves and v of the crossing front gave you an excuse to pull out your push-up bra and put the girls on display. You had chosen a long skirt. Reflective swirls of gold shined in the light from your skirt. It brushed the top of your shoes each time you took a step. Jewelry you kept simple; gold hoops and a single pendant on a long chain. Some light eye makeup and a lip stain are all you did for your face today. You would forget to wipe it off when you got home and refused to deal with the breakouts that overnight in your makeup would provide. Thankfully your hair cooperated and sat neatly in a sleek bun.

Looking John over as you approach you are pleased to see him in a suit. The juxtaposition of his winter beanie will never not make you smile. You hadn’t seen this one from him in all his times of coming by. You would tease him about the belt he needed to keep them up later. Perfect you could poke and prod at him tonight to confirm that you had the right size for his Christmas present. It sat in the back of your shop, waiting for his next visit to confirm the dark blue suit would contrast beautifully with his eyes. Double vested with a double vent, because something about that cute bum being covered just so gave you butterflies. The pants should cling to his thighs barely and give him a nice long silhouette

John took you in from top to bottom and back up again. You thought him unaffected until he took your hand as he opened the door and pulled you directly into a hug. Hugging him fired off a spring-loaded batch of emotions. Between the subtle smell of his cologne and the heat of his hands searing through the back of your coat, you’ve never wanted a New Years kiss more than now.

God. You had to say something. Fuck it all. You opened your mouth to say anything really but John beat you to it.

“You look stunning tonight,” he pulls back, hands still settled on your spine. He looks from your hair to your cleavage and back, a warm smile growing on his face.

“Thanks, you look pretty spiffy yourself,” tugging on the lapels of his jacket you continue, “But this doesn’t fit quite right, and was that a belt I saw? How could you keep something like this from me, John?”

His smile got impossibly wider. Joy spread through you like the first drink of a warm liquor.

“I wondered if you would notice. Gaz mentioned to wear a suit and when I went digging through my closet this was all I could find.”

John released you from the hug, one hand sliding from your back and down your arm to catch your hand. He holds it all the way up the elevator. When the elevator deposits you on the 26th floor you let John lead. Number 2607 he opens without hesitation.

All his muppets are present, some even have dates. Kyle stood at the island, cutting cheese for the board. The woman who you assumed to be Kyle’s girlfriend floated around the room. Charms weaved into her braids and a sleek body con dress matched her beautiful smile as she offered you and John both a drink. You were surprised to see that Gary was a blond. His choice of date made much more sense than his hair color and makes you smile. Sharing a look with John he nodded once; Gary had a thing for goth women. Johnny and Simon sat at a table, deep in discussion. Neither had a date to be seen.

“Simon doesn’t surprise me but why doesn’t Johnny have a date?” You turn to question John, wary of letting your voice travel in the open space.

John takes a sip of his drink, “They would have a date if either of them would buck up and ask the other.”

Your eyes widened as you snapped your gaze back to the men.

“You would not make a good agent,” he chuckled. “Johnny come hold this for me.”

Johnny pops up and out of his chair without question, closing the distance to take the drink John is holding out. John then takes your drink and passes it off to Johnny as well. Shivers assault your body as John’s rough fingers slide the coat from your shoulder and move away to hang it up.

“Miss Seamstress!” Johnny leans in and places a kiss on your cheek as he passes your drink back. “It is good to see you. How is your shop going?”

“Good, almost too good. If my space were any bigger I would bring on another seamstress full time. As it stands I might still hire someone to help with the simpler tasks.”

“What counts as a simpler task in a shop like yours?” Johnny cants his head to one side.

“Mostly ironing, unstitching simpler items, phone calls, running the register, things like that.” John appears at your side, finger-catching your pinky. You curl it tight to acknowledge his presence.

Movement over Johnny’s shoulder shows Simon and Kyle both heading toward you for a greeting. Kyle gives you a kiss much like Johnny did and Simon nods. When Gary sees everyone is saying hello he abandons his date for a rib-crushing hug since both your hands are busy.

The night flows on, laughter and food flowing more freely than the drinks do. You end up chatting with Kyle’s and Gary’s girlfriends about Pilates and how funny it would be to see the men try. They jump from history to space to fashion and beyond. Midnight sees Gary and Kyle kissing their girlfriends. Johnny and Simon stare at each other’s feet in abject longing and John places a kiss on the back of your hand, much to your chagrin.

As John had nursed his single drink all night and drove you home after one, passing through a sobriety checkpoint with ease. The conversation never stopped flowing with John, teasing and jokes kept your spirits lifted until you arrived at your flat. He walked you to your door, hand firmly in yours.

His thumb brushed against your knuckles as you stared up into his eyes, hoping, praying for a kiss.

“Thank you for coming. I left your gift at home since I didn’t want you to have to lug it about. When can I bring it by?”

“You’re gift is at the shop, so tomorrow maybe? About noon?”

“That would work fine. I had a lot of fun tonight and I know my guys like you.”

“They are important to you, it makes sense you would want someone in your life to get along with them.”

“And do you,” he paused here, eyes searching your face, “What to be part of my life?”

Desperately. More than anything. Fuck yes.

None of those words passed your lips. All you could do is nod.

With his free hand, John cradles your face, pressing his lips to yours.

It had to be the best first kiss you ever had because you can’t remember a damn second of it. When you finally blink John is halfway down the hall and turning back to see if you are okay since you haven’t moved.

Sending him a sheepish smile and a nod you fight with your key to get your lock open and fling yourself inside. Once the door finds its home you squeal as quietly as you can and happy dance like a dork.

Seamstress Masterlist | Masterlist

[animefreak1145]

Lightning in a Bottle(Adler x Bell!Reader)(Oneshot)

Word Count: 2k Summary: A one in a million chance. Impossible.

But Bell always was a chance, weren't you? Just like Adler always was confident in his odds. Warnings: Mature Rating/Graphic Violence, Dark Themes, Torture, Brainwashing, Manipulation, Toxic Relationship, Trauma, Female!Reader Bell, Adler x Bell, Crack Treated Seriously, Solovetsky Ending. A/N: Don't treat this fic seriously. You might get dissapointed. This is literally crack at the start which turns serious. Me and @makeyourpeacenow were just fooling around and she inspired me to write this thing out as we chatted. Less tumblr meme format and RPG style and more actual story. She added a paragraph in here that I kept.

The afternoon sun did nothing for the chill that hung in the air, the crispness only adding into the classic Russian cold. The waves hitting against the cliff side in the distance where you’re sure they were doing the same on the cliff they were on, as the flowers and long grass moving with the cool breeze.

It was beautiful.

Beautifully tainted as your hand made quick work of releasing from your holster just as Adler did, both pulling the trigger and the sound of twin guns breaking the calm atmosphere. Broken just as Adler did to you, your heart torn and anger boarding in your veins still hot from the betrayal.

Clang!

The sound rung in your ears more than the bullet being released from the gun, a brief spark in the air. A violent flash that went in the next blink before a bullet ricocheted to the rock to your left while the other dug deep into the ground by the flowers that were just innocently moving along—petals torn from the speed of the bullet. 

Your eyes were wide, mouth parted as you stared at the area where the bullet hit the rock, your grip on your pistol a tad loose although still up and ready. Adler in your peripherals sharing his own silent disbelief at what just occurred, gun still raised as well but head facing towards the torn flowers.

The air of heavy silence broke when you finally blinked your shock away, jerking your head towards Adler who continued to stare down at the bullets with a pressed frown.

“You just tried to kill me!” You accuse, gun gesturing wildly at the bullets on the ground while also motioning towards him.

Adler finally lifted his eyes, throwing you a blank stare. “That makes two of us,” he said blandly. He gave you a gave you a once over before stupefyingly deciding you were no threat for he took a cigarette out of his tactical vest and lighting it while managing to keep a grip on his pistol. You could only stare in bafflement as he took a lazy drag,  giving a subtle nod of his head towards you. The one you always were desperate for before. “Say…you’ve been a good team mate, Bell. Take this as a sign. Second chance.”

“Are you…are you seriously not gonna talk about this?!” Your voice pitched higher at the end, completely bewildered.

Adler’s nonchalance was not something that bothered you before. You were actually thankfully for it and even a hint amused by it when he told Hudson he would be taking you and only you to Lubyanka. You remember his cool praise about you towards Hudson, how it created a warmth in your cheeks and feeling light momentarily before Hudson went off in a huff. Adler giving you directly words of comfort, speaking of Hudson not liking things in his control.

Adler was just mocking you. You were in the palm of his hand all along, accepting treats from said hand with casual pats to the head.

You feel like you might hurl. Or cry.

“Hm?” Adler took a hefty drag, his gaze not leaving your form. It made you shift your legs, swallowing dryly. "Something on your mind, soldier?"

His words dripped with smoke, going purposely in your direction and hurrying it along by blowing the rest.

Your jaw tightened, glaring. You waved the smoke away before moving forward, Adler tensing but not making any move as you just snatched his cigarette from his silver tongued mouth and throwing it over the cliff. Adler turning his head with only a quick press of the lips to show his displeasure at your waste. As if he didn’t prompt you to feel your wrath in the first place. It only made your blood boil further.

“You just tried to kill me and now you’re what? ‘Giving me a second chance?’ You can’t be this crazy! Cause you have to know, this—“ You wave your pistoled arm around the area with the bullets back and forth from your chest to his, even poking him with the barrel of your gun. “—is crazy!”

You knew he had some issues. Your “shared” past and all, you saw things from his past maybe you shouldn’t have. He cut off a piece of his mind, forcing the piece to fit into yours with brute force—all blood and brain matter and pokes of needles. Your fault for thinking you were special knowing him so well and intimately, knowing his way of thinking and plans before he even finished the sentence. Your mind clicking away at the possible scenarios he would suggest before zooming into one and stating it out loud. He always paused when you did that, assessing you before there it was—the reward, the ghost of a smirk before nodding at you with the words “Exactly my line of thinking.” or “A bit of a mind reader, are we, Bell?” or “And that’s why you’re my protege. Good job, Bell.”

It’s not fair, you want to cry out, clenching your grip around the pistol still to his chest yet your fingers off the trigger. Your throat feeling tight as you gazed up at the man who only rose a brow at you. It’s not fair! 

“So you want me to kill you?” Adler moved your pistol hand away, you letting him as you looked down with a defeated scowl. Your hold on your pistol obsolete. Your eyes tightened at that fact. You notice Adler kept his own pistol loose by his side. All it would take is one quick movement and you’ll be dead. Truly this time. Luck can’t save you like this. You’re closer to the cliff’s edge, maybe your body will fall into the waters below. Forever separate from him. Your stomach coiled back at the image. “What is it, Bell? What do you actually want?”

You can’t say. It gets stuck in your throat. 

You can’t say and you hate you still have it. This wretched feelings. Even after a deadly shot towards your chest. Even after his gall and apathetic nature to what just occurred(despite him still calling you soldier. “You’re still one of us.” Even now when you tried to kill him yourself, ignoring your own hypocrisy.) Your chest still bleeds only for one. You think only ever one.

It’ll only be the one because you’ve been ruined. Forever. Your trust dismantled for another yet still hopelessly, despairingly wishing to actually think you might have a chance. Even after this.

With him. You’ve been ruined for others. And the worst thing is, you’re actually fine if he is the one that’ll keep ruining you. This vicious cycle. You shot at him yes. But he had the gall to save you in Trabzon and make you think you’re close and something more. Not quite lovers. Not quite friends. Something in between.

He had the gall to make you feel this, your loyalties switched at the flip of a coin—you’re the tails he’s the head.

A coin. He had the gall to make you his other half. The tails. And he tried to kill you. And now he’s saving you. Because of…chance?

Take it, begrudgingly. Argue the matter, even if it's a nonsensical position. Argue because you want to argue—because you need to yell. Even if your feelings on it are oxymoronic. How can you hate him so much, yet refuse to part from him. Your stomach churned at the mere thought of your dead corpse even being away from his live one.

Fate? Bullets together? Is that what this is? Is he saving you to stick by him or to throw away and be by yourself? You don’t think you could be without him. Too tied together. You know his deepest secrets from Vietnam and he knows your mind. You’ve played in each other’s mind palaces, hands digging and blood spilling and bones crunching, napalm strikes on bodies—you’re tied.

You stay silent too long, biting at the inside of your lips before forcing yourself to look up at him meaningfully—eyes meeting for you can see them behind his shades at this distance, the sun helping you. Adler tilting his head and something passes over his gaze but you lower your head again and scoff, putting your pistol back in its holster begrudgingly.

“You’re stuck with me, then. Hope this is worth it.”

You notice the exhaustion set in his soul, the weight he bears. He carries it, alone, and you have no pity to offer.

You feel his weighted gaze just like you sense his exhaustion, putting his own pistol carefully away. Cautious if you will change your mind and decide to tear out his neck like he tore at your heart. You don’t.

Tied, your mind repeats. For better or for worse.

Like a twisted marriage.

You don’t look until your eyes widen when you feel the familiar touch of a hand on your head.

“Come on, kid. You know we’re stuck with each other. You’ve always been a slippery little thing,” his hand shifts and it’s on your cheek, feeling the leather as your eyes take in the quirk of his scarred mouth. What you always hunger for—the uptick to suggest a smile  “But not with me. I have you, Bell. I have you.”

You’re so easy.

You fall so prettily for him. 

You hate it. You love him.

You hate that too.

So it’s no surprise you let out a breathy sigh when he thumbs your lips and say an “Okay.”

He’s like a snake wrangler, you've got venom; you bare your teeth but you'll never bite—never him.

Always for others. He just has to point. He can be America’s Monster. 

But you? You can be Adler’s Dog.

You can accept that. You can accept the little touches and mindful quips of philosophy and books—even if you burn more at his touch then the danger close you experienced a mere half an hour ago—you can live with it. You can.

That’s your mantra in your head. Even as you stare up at him longingly, adoringly—a little lost yet accepting of whatever he says and does as he seems to look into you—that’s what you keep thinking.

You’re fine with this.

Be the tool. You can be that again for him. Willingly this time. He doesn’t have to love you like you do him. He doesn’t.

Even if you know him as equal or better than Sims. Even if you know the man behind the Vietnam soldier—behind the brave face. Behind the mask he’s made(the mask wasn’t supposed to be for you). Even with knowing where his mind goes and tracks, you’re satisfied with this.

You have to be. After all, nothing was personal. Those conversations outside the safehouse, the roof, the elevator of Lubyanka( “I need Bell”), defense against Hudson, the camera—

You don’t expect—

A tilt of the chin with firm fingers and a touch to the lips. You can feel his face on yours.

Your pupils are blown and your hands are still just as your mind has stopped. He didn’t seem to mind, a tease of your mouth and that’s all it takes for you open for him. Ready. Just a touch. A hint.

That’s all you need. Adler always gets what he wants. You’ll give it to him. 

You grab at him, the back of his neck and feel that hair underneath his beanie. Uncaring if it falls to the floor. You’re embarrassed at the pitiful sound you made when he pulled away. Only to silence when he taps his forehead to yours, hands on your waist with a comforting squeeze.

You can see his eyes. That electric blue.

“I have you, Bell,” he repeats, his breath tickling your face with that light smirk that unmakes you.

You blink. You assess, even with cheeks hot. 

You hold back the cheek splitting smile for a more mild hopeful one.

“Okay,” you breathe.

▞

▚ 

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A/N: Adler knows how to manipulate Bell perfectly well. Poor Bell. She knows how easy she is too. They're both satisfied where they're at. Sucks.

Tag List: @tr1ppylady @parkeepingparker @weirdoartist21 @gojocat247 @mayaibnlaahad @dallmaistir @salvija @kylezkie4adler @asaltryefl @stupid-stinky @aurora-windu @zachfoxx121 @pyxis-stellae @makeyourpeacenow @obsessedgremlin

You have to tell me if you want me to tag you for each update or else I won't know. Or if you wish to be removed.

[chaoticxbeast]

"Out of character? We just met!"

Mikey and Raph quietly watched on with a blank look upon their face. Splinter waved his hand, signaling for Donnie to be quiet, and listen. It was important that they all learned from this.

In Splinter’s mind, there was more to this encounter than met the eye. Meeting an older version of themselves could hold profound spiritual lessons, opportunities for self-development, and perhaps even a chance for his sons to mature. But getting them be still and simply listen? That was proving to be agonizingly difficult.

"So... Donatello created a device that sent you here." Splinter mused.

"No way." Donatello brightened up in a wide delighted smile, his hands tightening into fists.

"I see...many alternative realities..hm...." Splinter rubbed his chin, wondering if this was more Donatellos arena to be able to comperend.."We do not know Casey here. But..April..is one of us. Part of the family in fact."

Leo poked his head in the door. He had two cups of coacoa with marsmellows in his hands, and a guilty yet urgent look on his face. "PSST Mikey! It´s starting. " Mikey quickly hopped on his feet, and began making his way to the door. "...uhh its time for jackie chan adventures.."

"But this is important..!" Splinter said, frustration in his voice, watching his oldest lure the youngest away.

"But..It´s saturday..Me´n leo always.." Mikey backed off towards the door and was gone, similar to the meme with homer simpson dissapearing into the bush.

"Fine."

Mikey and Leo hurried off, leaving Raph and Donnie there. Raph had an apathic look on his face, as if he was low on brainjuice or something, while Donnie´s focus was on 100%, excited to know more.

"Shredder, and the Krang...and this Hyde.... I see." Splinter fell silent, deep in thought, pausing for a moment to think.

"Well! we don´t know them, do we." Splinter sounded at ease with that, resting his arms on his back. As if that problem was out of the way.

"Nope." Raph replied. "I know the purple dragon guys, but uh they��re just kids, like us. They´re okay. I´m kinda friends with their leader, he´s ok. Most of the time. I mean... if this Raphael is older than us, do we even have to worry about this now?"

Donnie looked a bit uncomfortable, knowing about the purple dragons and how they kidnapped Raph and had planned to sell him in parts. It wasn´t good news, but he didn´t want his dad, nor this other alternate Raph to know. After all, that would complicate things and scare their father.

"Well...." Donatello stepped forward, trying to be the logical link here.

"In chaos theory, the butterfly effect describes how small changes in initial conditions can lead to vastly different outcomes over time, so even though some disasterous events took place in one reality, it doesn´t mean it will happen here too. Humans love us here. We don´t really have a lot of enemies."

"Enemies could come. Sometimes..people have their own agendas." Splinter said, eyes narrowing at his sons.

Raph and Donnie stiffened up and looked guilty as charged, glancing at eachother. Was their father onto them?

Splinter continued, rubbing his chin. "Well just in case..I need to rethink your training regimé. We should prepare..Leo needs more experience as a leader too. I should prepare you better for what may come. You are all young, immature.."

As if to prove that point, an excited cheer rose from the livingroom, where Leo and Mikey was watching their saturday morning shows.

" I DIDN'T MEAN ' crazy ' like dat. I mean like...outta character. Dat sorta thing. " He had no room to call anyone crazy, all things considered. But Splinter said to leave it, so Night didn't say anything about the topic further, instead electing to finally get up from where he'd been sitting and he took a second to stretch a bit. His shoulders popped unceremoniously, and he let out a satisfied little hum before picking his sai up off the ground and tucking them back in the holsters on his belt.

SPLINTER'S COMMENT ABOUT his movie joke made him chuckle, and he waved his hand a bit. " No, no, it was a joke -- I ain't even seen dat movie, I just know because my sista'-in-law likes it. I didn't come here through a mirror or nothin'. See, my Donnie, we call 'em Dusty, they made this like...computa' thing that can make portals to otha' dimensions. I dunno all the science mumbo jumbo, jus' dat it makes cool portals dat change color dependin' on who goes through it. Makes it easier ta' find each otha' when we go across dimensions. "

NIGHT, AT THE suggestion of sharing tales of other dimensions, stopped to think to himself for a moment, trying to name off everything in his head. " Well...there's a lot of us out there. Dimensions, I mean, with us turtles. This is really my first solo mission but Cleo went to the 012 dimension and I popped in a few months later. Wasn't expectin' all four of those versions of us plus their April and Casey ta' dogpile me, but that's exactly what happened. " To be fair, it had been one big misunderstanding, one that they had sorted out and laughed about now, but it had still been pretty surprising in the moment.

" AS FOR THE usual threats...depends on the dimension, so far, it's usually what we call da' ' Big Two : ' Shredda' and the Foot...or the Kraang. The Kraang are more Cleo's department, she's the one who defeated them back in our dimension, but all five of us got beef with Shredda'. " He paused, thinking to himself for a second. " We had Hyde back at home and I rememba' them poppin' up a couple a' times in dat 012 dimension, Cleo's twin who's a crazy serial killa' but they're mostly harmless. " Tell that to yer leg. " And uh...there's smaller threats, like the Purple Dragons, or some places have Bebop and Rocksteady, but I think you guys got dat one taken care of, " he gestured to the living room where the other mutants were sleeping. " Oh, and Triceratons. Fuck those guys, seriously. "

[abigailunderthemoon]

Me: Oh man! I actually hung my clothes up yesterday. Also me for some god damned reason: Clothesmaxxed hangpiller. Not beating the clothes hanging charges. The clotheshanger. Me: Stop it. Why am I doing this to myself. I'm my own worst enemy. A distant echo from somewhere in the recesses of my mind: ...worstpilled enemymaxxer...

[backpackingspace]

I am once again thinking about how odysseus who witnessed the horrors that the captured women went through (one of his main duties in the iliad was taking the women back home and making sure they were as comfortable as possible and safe because he was the only one trusted not to violate them further due to his devotion to penelope. And in the odyssey part of the reason circe sent him to the underworld was so that he'd have to listen to all these women's stories (before he could talk to the prophet) ). Who was one of the few that saw women as people and respected their space and opinions. And was then put in those exact same situations. I don't have the motivation right now to do a full literary analysis of this (I'll site the sources too) but oh man one day I'm going to write a full essay on this.

[puppyeared]

who up seeing their disorder in a fictional character but feel like its not their place to put a name on it

[blujayonthewing]

opening the group chat for the first time today and there's like 200 new messages because everyone's Going Through It today it seems but one of my friends dropped 'I'm separating from [terrible boyfriend she's been living with for like eight years] for real this time, I just moved a bunch of stuff to my parents' and I'm losing my mind because y'all the subject changed almost immediately HEY HI EVERYBODY ELSE SHUT THE FUCK UP I WANNA HEAR ABOUT THAT???

[writterings]

so tonight starts the first night of me living alone in a farmhouse for a full month. bthe closest town in 15 minutes away (and is also the town they filmed friday the 15th in) and i'm gonna have to both clean the house and take care of some animals. but! luckily my cousin only lives 15 minutes away (not in the town) so we can hang a lot and i can get her husband to teach me how to do work on cars and how to play guitar or smth :3

[nindoes]

inbox call.

[magentagalaxies]

current mood

[sooouth]

god DAMN it.

just cried over satosugu for the first time.

[spidersiren]

Anon fairy! Going around sending my favorite blogs some questions. How does Lorelai like to be kissed?

AAAAAAAAAAAAAA thank you so much for this ask !! i'm so happy :0)

lor isn't the biggest on intimacy, at least not at first. kindness, gentleness, etc is all very foreign to her and something she doesn't quite know how to handle. she's blocked out a lot of good feelings in favor for numbness, so when she's presented with them, it's a little bit overwhelming.

she's good with being kissed hard and biting. she doesn't necessarily view kisses as intimate always, because she's good with dirty and quick and messy, and as long as the kisses are in that general realm, she's fine.

i think if she actually is able to be kissed without the intention of it turning into something else, she'd like kisses more. i think she'd like them more gently, too. something a little bit softer. she's always so used to rough hands, both hers and her partners, so she'd be a little clumsy with the softness of a sweet kiss, but i could see it becoming some sort of a craving, too! she actually very much craves intimacy. she just doesn't want to lose it so she doesn't let herself have it, but once she does, i think it's all over.

that's a long winded way to say she has a lot of fun with messy kisses that don't mean anything, but she would definitely like some meaning to them once she works on some of her intimacy issues lmao

[whereisthedamndaddymanual]

On our oldest sister.

Sweet thing.

God damn dumb as dog shit though.