#need to learn how to say no and not drop everything just to do a favor so often.

[dkniade]

Start ID. “stages of a king waging war on his daughters,” a poem separated into four parts, each part as three sections for the three daughters in King Lear. The headings are in Roman numerals and bolded.

1. intelligence

1. goneril is born in the summertime, grows slender and sweet and wide-eyed into the most beautiful, desperate creature, who will do anything to be the favorite. he drops his coins on purpose and watches as she scrambles to collect them.

2. regan is born in the winter, grows soft and quiet and tender-voiced into something with a hidden cruelty, an animal he knows is there. he gives her a magnifying glass and watches as she sets fires, saying daddy, daddy look! while a spider burns.

3. cordelia is born in the autumn, grows tall and loud and head-strong into him, into a girl who is a mirror, and he knows what his mother went through when he was young. her first and favorite word is NO, and they fight more than anything, but he knows she will be his favorite.

2. war

1. goneril needs him to be proud of her. as a child, she is pretty and accomplished and does everything right, and nothing is enough for him. she doesn't understand, and it makes her bloodthirsty. her friends are only friends until she has to outdo them. you don't understand, she screams at them, blood vessels bursting in her eyes, i have to be the best.

2. regan hates it when he yells. as a child, she is essentially invisible, just a pair of glasses and mop of curly hair. when he yells more often, she starts picking on other kids at school. one day she stabs another girl in the eye with a sharpened pencil, no provocation. she won't talk about it- just stares. he pays off the other family. he keeps yelling

3. cordelia's new favorite word is WHY. as a child, she is a natural leader, a dark-eyed storm in the shape of a girl. she questions his every decision, and he couldn't be more proud. her teachers send her home with notes about her behavior, about how she approaches every conversation like a fight, how they're worried about her home life. he puts her in a new class and tells her to keep her claws out.

3. occupation

1. goneril has collected love notes from half the students in her high school by the time she's seventeen, keeps them taped to her mirror to read while she does her makeup. i think you're beautiful while she dusts pink and gold over her eyelids, do you want to go out? while she bites the inside of her cheek so it bleeds. she's not planning to kiss any of them, so it's not like anyone else will taste it.

2. regan meets cornwall when they're fourteen and it's like a snake eating its own tail when they talk, his sentences picking up where hers finish. he has an easy laugh and a smile like a serrated knife. nobody likes who the two of them are becoming, but nobody can stop it, like a hurricane ripping through the south. she brings him to the woods and they come back with blood on their shoes.

3. cordelia's new favorite word is FUCK and she uses it like a swiss army knife. she becomes a poet and an angry, hard-eyed teen at the same time. the school counselor convinces her to come to school by letting her skip class in his office, and he gradually learns about her father, about her sisters. he learns that she likes antigone and rock music and the color blue. he learns that she has nowhere to put her anger.

4. pacification

1. goneril marries albany, her first college boyfriend, when she's twenty-three, because he's kind and mild and looks at her like she hung the stars in the sky. they really did love each other at first, but she will always need to be the best at everything, and she will always need to be the prettiest person in every room, and he will never understand why. she is beautiful and successful and it will never be enough.

2. regan and cornwall spiral into strangeness like everyone knew they would, crashing through colleges and careers, upsetting everyone they meet. they both end up in jail several times, and no one is surprised- the quiet girl with a hairpin trigger and the boy with the fire-dark eyes. in her court-ordered therapy, she says she's always been like this, ever since she was a child burning spiders on the sidewalk

3. cordelia's new favorite word is JUSTICE. she demands it from the world, screaming herself hoarse at rallies, slowly realizing that she is a young woman marching in the rain, turning fury into change. she puts herself through community college. her father threatens to stop talking to her (she used to be his favorite, a girl who was a mirror) and she calls his bluff. you aren't a father, she says. i don't need you.

end ID.

stages of a king waging war on his daughters

[justordinarygirl]

IDW Starscream x reader

This got me so interested that I lost sleep and just started writing, falling asleep every 20 minutes, lol

The meeting alone was a message of destiny. First acquaintance, discussions at some boring event didn't just brighten the evening, but allowed a veritable meadow of flowers to bloom in your spark. Peaceful Cybertron was beautiful, it was a pity that few people appreciated what they had.

Then the long war. Deaths, one after another, the smell of about to burst energon from someone's insides, hunger, pain, death again. At what other moment than this should you want to be closer to the one who heals the frame and the spark with mere words, with tugging sounds and a self-assured tone? You didn't hesitate to pick a side. The processor was on maximum, reports, tasks, fixing equipment or repairing the wounded, you learned fast, everything you could learn, just to earn a higher rank, to stand if not on par with Starscream, then at least to be as close to him as possible. But that plan failed so miserably… You were sent away, as if to separate you from him, fate mocked and hated for something.

Without giving up hope, you kept in touch with him from a distance. You wrote to him much more than he did, and more often than not, he would suddenly appear online, reply to one or maybe just two messages with something short, and start complaining. About the Lord, about the tasks, about the soldiers. And you supported him as best you could, not knowing that you were the only one who stayed on his side and told him something positive, like a life preserver thrown so timely.

Then it was finally over. After an agonizingly long time that passed imperceptibly but sucked the last drop out of every Cybertronian, the one you had been waiting and longing for for so long finally stood before you. He was washed and polished, just like you. After millions of years, nothing creaked in your joints, the sky overhead was clear, and Starscream, though slightly changed, was looking over his shoulder with such familiar optics.

For so much time of companionship and support, you were allowed to watch the most important events not from the surface of Cybertron under the new ruler's balcony, and not live, but standing directly behind his back. You've missed him so much that you delight in every movement of his adorable wings, from a full flap, to a barely perceptible twitch. And now he stands there, says his speech, which he has been working on for a long time, makes snide comments, waves goodbye and goes to the exit, passing by and casting a lingering glance at you.

On another workday, you hand over the report into his manipulators, savoring the instant touch of your fingers as he picks up the datapads. He sets them aside and stares at your figure standing in front of him, scrolling from side to side in the expensive chair.

"Not a single remark in your direction my dear, not during the war, nor for your service to me personally, I should suspect you, are you surely a common mortal?" his voice is so sweet you want to lick your lips languidly. You chuckle at his words, and smile at him sincerely, not believing it to be true.

"You shouldn't, I'm just always motivated. It's nice when work is appreciated, you know how unpleasant it feels when it's blatantly not to"

He presses his lips together and nods a few times, dropping a slightly sinking gaze to the surface of his desk, but wipes it off his faceplate and looks at you with the familiar friendliness only you are accustomed to. "You were, are, and I hope will remain my oldest and dearest friend, I need loyal people like you at my side."

And you nod to him too, more than willing to do him a favor. But, oh, how you want to be more than just a loyal friend to him in this time, how you want to put your helmet on his shoulder, take him by the arm and intertwine your fingers, especially in front of everyone. How you want to just nuzzle into his cheek and leave a kiss. And even more than that. Much more. You hide your EM field from Starscream and take a step back, coughing slightly.

"Well, I'll be off, right? So much for rebuilding Cybertron," and you slip out of his office, almost flying out, not noticing at all his outstretched manipulator in your direction in a pathetic attempt to delay.

He abruptly dropped his helmet onto the table with a loud clang, growling out of not knowing what to do. Friend, you're a friend. Odd, what else could he say? 'Hop on my lap, please'? He can't take this pressure, this feeling that if he doesn't act faster, someone will take you, so friendly and open, into their filthy clutches. He doesn't know how to approach you. He's barely even interacted with femmes during his asset. It's worth asking for advice. Primus, from whom? It's all idiots! He jumped up, remembering someone he could have a decent contact with and maybe even get something worthwhile. Dropping his chair from the abruptness of his movements, he quickly close his personal documents and left the office, remembering to lock it.

You're calmly walking down the corridors with another plan in your head and a whole city of ideas and dreams about the future, when you see someone with your side-eye around the corner and turn your attention to the end of the next corridor. Your processor reflexively recognized Starscream's figure instantly, only then did you realize that Windblade was standing next to him. That wasn't the point, it was the way they were standing. Close, too close. He exhales and leans toward her, saying something too quietly for you to make out. Her optics widened in disbelief and surprise as she opened her mouth and looked as if she was embarrassed. Your jaws clenched to a squeak. What could he possibly have said that? He so rarely stood so close to even you, what was she doing so near to him? You stepped out from around the corner completely and shouted a greeting to the far standing mech and femme, causing them to literally recoil from each other. Oh no, you saw the whole thing!

You're in front of them in a couple seconds, looking as shy as if they'd been caught kissing in the pantry.

"What were you discussing?" you smile affably at them both, shifting your gaze from one to the other. They look at each other sharply at your question and Windblade nods her shoulder awkwardly, kneading her hinge and averting her gaze. What was that supposed to mean? Were they flirting?

Starscream instantly went into tactical retreat mode, taking one step back, then another, then silently turning on his heels and adding a step into the unknown. Oh, how rude. This is after all that? Distrust, huh?

You felt as if the spark was about to stop shining from the pain beneath your breastplates. You held yourself back from showing emotion, continuing to look welcoming to at least one onlooker.

"You looked so embarrassed together. If I'm reading this right, I'd have to say that the two of you are very organic." No, you don't think so. And your own words hurt you, but you just want to know more. And femme is throwing up her manipulators and actively waving them around in denial.

"No, no, you've got it completely wrong! We weren't talking about anything like that, never mind…"

"Then what else could you have discussed?"

"We weren't discussing anyone"

Oh no, they weren't gossiping about you behind your own back were they? You force yourself to chuckle sarcastically.

"It's all clear with you lovebirds, how shy." you don't want to hear any more, so with the same quick stride that Starscream had, you walk off in the other direction, leaving Windblade at a loss. What should she have told you? To declare in Starscream's absence that he's in love with you and like a boy doesn't know what to do when he barely trusted her with it? It would have been such a scandal.

She looked sadly in the direction Starscream had gone, then in the direction you were going, and sighed heavily, leaning against the wall and realizing how difficult it was going to be for the two of you.

@skittyhugger because it's your order.

Аnd @alexandraibis because I know damn well you're gonna love it.

[hearts4johnwick]

SUMMARY. clark kent recently moved to metropolis and he wants you to show him around.

WARNINGS. tooth rotting fluff.

you click your pen repeatedly as you bite the inside of your cheek, you’re stressing because perry just assigned you to interview the governor-elect of metropolis, but, it’s complicated due to his tight schedule. you seriously think about quitting, until you see perry through the corner of your eye. you stand and walk over to him, which lands you in his office. “perry! hi! hello!” you smile at him and he gives you a bored look. “okay… how’s your day been?” your smile gets wider, and he sighs and places a newspaper down on his desk.

“if you came here to ask if i could replace you with someone else for the interview with the governor-elect, the answer is no.” your smile drops.

“oh, perry, please! the man is impossible to work with!” you groan.

“so is my wife, but I make it work. so, make it work!” you furrow your eyebrows and click your tongue, removing yourself from his office. worth a shot.

you look down at your paper with the questions you had planned on asking the governor-elect, and you come up with another one. you were so busy focusing on the paper that you accidentally bumped into jimmy olsen and dropped his coffee, you apologized, but he dismissed you, saying that he wasn’t going to drink it anyway because they got the order wrong. you chuckle and turn to continue your walk back to your desk but again, you accidentally bump into clark kent, but he was quick enough to move so you wouldn’t hit him.

“oh, gosh! i’m sorry!” he quickly apologizes and you tell him not to worry. “hello.” you smile.

“hello.” you greet him back.

“hi.” he says.

“hi.” you say. your tone makes him flush, you notice this and it makes you furrow an eyebrow, but, you find it cute. “i like your hair, kent, you decided to embrace your curls as i told you?” you continue to walk and he follows, makes sense because his desk is a few feet away from you.

“yes, i even bought the perfect products, and my mom helped me.” you turn your head to the side, his mom helped him? i mean, there’s nothing wrong with that, but he’s a grown man. “but, i’m afraid they’ll never look as perfect as yours.” you chuckle and deeply appreciate his compliment.

“thank you so much, clark. but, I’ll tell you this, it isn’t easy. how else do you think i got these muscles?” you flex your arms, and he’s surprised how you have muscle, he likes it, he thinks it’s attractive. “this is all in finger coiling, scrunching, diffusing, and trying every single method for your curls to look good. although it’s kind of painful because your arms begin to hurt 5 minutes after you started, but, it’s worth it.” your lips carve into a smile, and he returns one, though he had one the whole time. “and, I was joking, I go to the gym.”

“i think it also depends on the hair type.” he places his briefcase on top of his desk. “see, my hair type is kind of like between a 2b or 2c, whereas your hair, is 3b almost 3c because you have tighter curls.” to be honest, you’re impressed with his hair knowledge it makes your eyebrows raise, he notices this and he also notices that your heart spikes and he settles down. “I’m sorry, i just went overboard talking, I hope you have a great day, y/n!” your smile fades when you notice the change in his attitude and you quickly shake your head.

“no! no! i don’t mind it at all, it’s actually kind of adorable. i didn’t even know my hair type until like… 2 days ago? so, it’s nice that you’re learning about it.” your smile makes his whole face light up, he feels like a little boy with a crush on his classmate. he rises again and smiles softly.

“well, i spent the whole night last night studying curl patterns and the perfect products, everything i need to know to maintain my natural hair.” you nod at his words, you see perry at a distance looking at the two of you and when clark notices your eyes aren’t on him, he looks to where you are and he notices perry urging you to hurry your paperwork. he turns his gaze back at you and he sees your tired face.

“perry assigned me with an interview with the new governor-elect.” you exhale and rub your temples. “the man is impossible to reach, clark.” clark looks down at your paper and your questions. “i have to get back to work, see you around.” you turn and start to walk away until clark speaks.

“y/n,” he says louder than usual, when he feels some eyes on him he slouches a bit. you turn with your eyebrows furrowed. “s—sorry.” he approaches you a bit to close the distance. “have you ever been to the new gelato place, i think the name is under… under…” you raise an eyebrow and chuckle.

“uncle j’s gelateria?” you question. he nods and purses his lips then looks down in embarrassment as he is way off from the name.

“yup! that’s the name. i was way off. but, have you been there?” you shake your head.

“no, i haven’t, i’ve always wanted to go, though.” you can maybe see where this is going, you hope, you pray that this is going where you want it to go.

clark sees your heart race which makes him get a surge of confidence. “perfect, maybe we can go later tonight? that way maybe you can show me around metropolis.” the sight of your face lighting up makes clark feel like he just dropped a heavy weight on him, he feels so relieved, all he expects is a—

“that sounds great!” you say excitedly and a little bit loud, you look around and mutter. “uh, i mean… yeah, that’d be nice, clark.” you both share a soft laugh and clark nods.

“okay, i’ll see you around then. is 6:30 okay?” you hum and nod, and he nods back. you turn and walk back to your desk, meanwhile, clark hasn’t moved at all due to him admiring you.

you walk hurriedly to your door and as you open it, all you see is clark’s impressively large back, you see him put on his glasses quickly, he then turns around and your jaw drops at your view, yeah, he’s clark, but it’s what’s in his hands. a bouquet of lillies.

“clark…” your eyes twinkle when you look at him, and he is taken aback by your expression, and your beauty, something about how you currently looked made his hands shake and his heart race.

“for you.” he slowly hands them to you, and as you grab them, your fingers graze his cold hands, and it gives him goosebumps. he doesn’t know why he feels like this, he even thinks he’s acting weird, or like a creep, but no, you think he’s the opposite.

“clark, thank you.” you keep staring at him in pure awe, you swear you could just drop the flowers right now and kiss him. “i’m going to see if i have a vase to put these in, come inside.” you invite him inside your home and you go look for a vase, while he stays in the living room, looking at the family pictures. he sees a portrait and grabs it. he hears you come in the kitchen and he asks—

“is this your mother?” he questions, you place the bouquet in the vase and attempt to look over his broad shoulders, you walk over to him and smile.

“yes, that’s my mother.”

“you have her eyes.” he says softly. “and her curls.” you nod.

“yeah, we’re a copy-paste. same dark, big brown eyes, same caramel skin tone, same tight curls, same personality, and everything, but, you should see my sister.” you say.

“oh yeah? does she look like your father?” you shake your head. It

“no, she’s adopted, so she doesn’t look like any of us.” you laugh and he chuckles.

“can i laugh?” clark asks for your approval while you’re dying of laughter.

“of course you can, she doesn’t care.” after that, clark starts laughing with you until it eventually dies down. “okay! let’s go!” you smile and he nods. the two of you walk out the door and walk to the gelateria.

“and, this is the bridge leading to gotham, you don’t want to go there—don’t go there. promise me you won’t go there.” he raises an eyebrow and shakes his head.

“i won’t, but, is it really that bad?”

“bad? clark, that place is like hell on earth.” you exaggerate a little, but, not too much since gotham really is horrible. silence comes between the two of you.

you admire the lights from the city in front of you, how it shines with the water, and how aesthetically pleasing the bridge looks, the wind blows in your face, and though it bothers you a bit, you don’t move it out of your face, you feel like pocahontas. clark was doing the same as you, admiring the light in front of him, you.

“hey…” you speak, barely above a whisper, clark turns his head sideways, and you turn to look at him and stand straight. the height difference between the two of you is big, and you like that. “i appreciate the flowers, lillies are my favorite.”

“really? wow. w—what a coincidence” he laughs and so do you, he knows damn well it wasn’t a coincidence, but he has to play it off.

“i know right!? but thank you.” you place your hand on his that was on the railing. “i wish i could repay you with something.”

clark shakes his head and grabs your hand. “you already repaid me, y/n. by coming with me to get gelatos, and showing me around—just you being around is enough.” your face softens at his words and his touch, this man is asking, practically begging for a kiss, and you can’t wait to give it to him. the way he looks at you with those eyes, and his words, his tone, everything about him is perfect.

“do you have a favorite flower?” you ask and immediately regret it, you mentally face-palm yourself after saying the question, men don’t have favorite flowers. you think to yourself.

he chuckles and you close your eyes in pure embarrassment. “i do.” you open your eyes and tilt your head, waiting for his answer. “you.” clark isn’t nervous anymore, he’s confident, and your constant heart spikes whenever he says something, or slightly touches you proves he has nothing to be scared of.

you feel as if your heart is about to burst out of your chest, you have no idea what to even say, yes, you’ve had boyfriends before, but, shitty, immature ones that you regret and that don’t know what bringing flowers is, or complementing your partner is, so, the fact that your work crush of three months is saying all of this to you has your mind along with your heart racing.

you swallow and feel the heat rushing to your face. he removes his and your hand off the railing, but still holds onto it. your twinkling eyes haven’t left his mind since earlier in the office. he places his free hand over your cheek, and it gives you goosebumps, his touch alone gives you the feeling of a thousand flying butterflies in your stomach.

his ocean eyes scan every inch of your face, not missing a spot. his eyes stay on your lips while he caresses your cheek, you grab his wrist, and your eyes connect, this is it, this is where your heart is definitely jumping out of your chest, he sees this, and this is his signal. the two of you share eye contact full of the tension that’s been surrounding the two of you since two weeks ago when perry made the two of you go to a city in metropolis for a case with an alleged serial killer, since this case was a few days long, it meant staying in the city for more than a day, which mean staying at a hotel room, coincidentally, the same hotel room, which was coincidentally booked by perry himself.

his eyes move to your lips, then back to your eyes, yours to the same. “may i?” your lips part and you nod.

“yes, clark.” you answer, softer than ever.

from the moment the two of you begin to lean in, to closing your eyes feels as if this moment was in slow motion and the whole world around you was spinning, and when your lips finally attached, fireworks exploded in your brain. it was a soft kiss, and you thought it would only be the touch of your lips, but when clark angled his head, he deepened it. your hand cups his cheek and then your arms snake around his neck.

you feel clark nibble on your lower lip, and it makes you giggle, yeah, you find it sexy as all hell, but you didn’t expect that from him. the smile detaches your lips, but you return them to him, and his hand moves from your cheek to your back, his fingertips pushing you closer to him, your body curves with his, and you swear that at one point your feet leave the ground just because of how tall he is. your kiss is slow and passionate, but also wet and intense, and you do not want it to end, but unfortunately, it does, but that doesn’t make you back away. he rests his forehead against yours and the two of you finger yourselves unable to open your eyes and breathing heavily.

“my god.” you chuckle, clark’s hands move from your lower back to grip your hips.

“can we do that again?” clark asks and you laugh, you back away and open your eyes and you cannot believe that you just had a full-on makeout sesh with him. you lick your lips, savoring the kiss and missing his lips on yours already.

“i want to do it as much as you do.” you suck on your bottom lip and look at his, and the sight makes you snicker, the brown lip combination you had was not ruined, yes, but now he has it on.

“what?” he questions cluelessly. you place your thumb over his lips and rub it off.

“you ruined my lip combination.” you press your lips together.

“oops.” he says, teasing you. you roll your eyes and he grabs your arm softly, your eyes connect. he pulls you closer and places his thumb over your chin and index finger below it. he moves your face to look directly at him. “c’mere.” the tone of his voice is now different and you liked it a bit more than you think you should’ve.

as you inch closer and your lips reunite, his hand now moves to your cheek, then behind your neck, your arms snake around his neck and you pull him closer.

❛ i remember his hands, and the way the mountains looked.

light shot diamonds from his eyes. ❜

[siri-ike]

The last couple of years have been good to Danny... too good, apparently. He'd accidentally joined a gang, beat up so many would be r**ists, made cops look like fools (an easy feat when you have ghost powers;) and he learned how to properly format an excel spreadsheet. Why, now of all times, did shit have to hit the fan?

There were clues well before Danny realized someone was after him. Hightened ghost activity, all the letters he couldn't read because they were cursive, the occasional horse-drawn carriage becoming him inside. But when a neon green sticky note appeared in a puff of smoke, right in front of his face. That's when he knew Clockwork wanted his attention. Which always means disaster.

That morning, Danny followed his usual routine. He went to the same coffee place, got the same order (sweet tea, a late with 3 sugars and a bagel with jam) and he brought it to the boss just as he was about to bash someone's skull in. He was such a calm and kind natured man but was somehow always in a bad mood before Danny got there.

Even though he never removed his mask, Danny could tell Red Hood was smiling when he looked his way. Not the sadistic way he was smiling before he came in. This was a pleasant smile. Amazing what a cup of coffee can do.

Even though he hid it, Danny knew The Red Hood loves routine. Not just the exact same breakfast and 8 am. sharp every morning for 2 years. He had also ridden the same beat-up motorcycle and used the same gun the whole time they had known each other. He always sat down to read between the hours of 1 pm and 2 pm, then again from 8 pm to 9 pm. And despite clearly preferring to be up at night, he seemed to do everything during the day (as if out of spite).

Safe to say, he wasn't going to appreciate the request Danny had to make.

08:06 am

Hood had ordered his goons to leave. That was another routine. He liked to eat alone. At least, that's how he worded it, but he never seemed to want Danny gone. And so, he did as always; recited the list of things that need to be dealt with in order of importance. A lot of it was kind of depressing. Greedy businesses displacing orphans, a lab infecting animals with degenerative diseases, someone's been stealing wheelchairs and two other gangs plan to have a shoot out at a playground. After that, it was less important things like a meeting with the Don, a suspected traitor, and some kids were cought dealing weed and amphetamines. Slow news day.

A pit forms in Danny's stomach. There's no more putting it off. He takes a deep breath.

But that was enough to get his attention.

"Something wrong?" You wouldn't expect a crime boss to have such a soothing voice.

Danny diffencively grabbed his own arm. He knew it was a sign of distress, and he knew Hood could tell. But Danny's always been such a terrible liar. "I, ih, " He stammered. "I need" in... and out. "I need to take some time off." You could have heard a pin drop.

Finally, Hood spoke. "Are you in danger? Do you need protection?" There was genuine concern in his voice. How could someone so kind be so feared?

Of course, Danny couldn't tell him the real reason (he didn't know the real reason), but he did eventually convince Red to give him one week before checking in. He's so lucky to have a boss who cares so much.

On his way out, 18 different goons begged him to stay. He didn't know them. It wasn't even an organized effort. Each one was alone. He reassured them he'd most likely be back in less than a week, but they still tried to stop him.

It's not like he's worried either, Red Hood can more than take care of himself. Most of what Danny does is just personal assistant stuff, mixed in with a little "crime" sometimes. Plus, with how sweet Hood is, those goons have nothing to worry about.

He hadn't even exited their base when he heard what could only be the sound of a horse-drawn carriage emerging from green fire. (Green ghost fire makes a distinct hot screaming noise, unlike blue ghost fire, which sounds more like a sad scream or red, which sounds like angry botulism). Opening the door confirms his expectations. The same distinct horses as before, too. A bone horse and shadow horse in the front, a scrawny flesh horse and glowing white horse in the back. A short ghost in a fancy but old looking suit held the carriage door open. Danny took a deep breath and put on a brave face (or at least that's what he was going for)

It took mere seconds for them to dissappear from infront of the red hoods base and appear infront of a giant purple castle in the ghost zone. He'd say it looks haunted, but... yeah. He barely stepped out of the carriage before another short, well-dressed ghost opened the front doors.

Inside was Frostbite. The relief must have shown on his face because the yeti was clearly expecting a warm embrace. Frostbite may be covered in furr, and he may have a warm personality, but he is cold to the touch. Danny doesn't care, though. If he wanted heat, he'd put his arms around that piece of hot nope nope, Danny, that is your boss! Get those thoughts out of your head this instant!

"My boy! My how you've grown. Why, you're almost my size." Frostbite said, holding Danny in one arm.

Danny didn't acknowledge the lie. He looks up from where he had buried his face in Frostbites shoulder. "Do you know what this is all about? I assumed the creepy letters were from Walker, but then Clockwork sent a note." He sat up on Frostbites forearm like a parrot. "I know I haven't exactly been a law-abiding citizen lately, but what do ghosts care?" He confessed, far too openly.

Frosbite chuckled. "You think you're in trouble, young one? No, my liege." He placed the halfa down. "It has been 10 years since you defeated Pariah Dark, and no one has taken your title from you. It is time you take your rightful place on the throne." Frostbites eyes shined with pride, and his hands encompassed Danny's whole torso.

Danny couldn't believe it. He came to the ghost zone expecting to get arrested, proposed to, or challenged to a duel of some sort.

Not this.

Ok it’s not like I go here really, but I’ve been reading a bunch of DPxDC recently because it’s very good, and I had an idea that won’t go anywhere

The various gangs in Gotham have callsigns/uniforms or something right??? If not, they should, and imma say they do. Anyway. Redhood I think didn’t think too hard about what people in his gang on his turf should wear for identification purposes, but they sure did. And what they came up with was Red.

Wearing red in the vicinity of the ‘Bad Part’ of Gotham?? Part of the red hood gang. Generally head gear is the preferred method of wearing red. Red hats and beanies, red head scarfs and hijabs, red headbands, red masks. The idea has been communicated. To a certain point, wearing red even if you aren’t officially part of the gang is a great way to get an in with them, or be under protection if you’re the right age in the right area, as long as you’re willing to risk getting roped into low stakes gang activity, which can range from working the counter at money laundering sites to community service (guarding clinics and shelters and volunteering) to making deliveries to destroying certain hostile architecture. (Hood saves the real jobs with cops and shootings and turf disputes for actual members, that he knows the names faces and skills of, and who are at least above 18, but preferably over 20, and who wear real gear he supplies them with, not just whatever’s in their closet that’s red) (this does not entirely stop the smaller ‘members’ from getting into their own fights with the cops and turf wars, but Jason has found that giving them Something to do that feels like direct action helps curb those tendencies. And it’s not like those things aren’t things that don’t need doing, so it’s a win win. Mostly)

Danny, bless him, does not know any of this. But has been staying in the sketchier areas of Gotham because that’s where people don’t care how old you are or if your papers are real or not, and he absolutely does not want people looking into how old he is and wether his papers are real or not. He is also wearing an inadvisable and vaguely conspicuous amount of red. His converse are red, his signature baseball tee is white and red, and his hoodie is also red.

Clearly, this kid (he’s like 17) really wants in with the hood gang.

And eventually, they oblige him.

Random people will approach Danny and ask/tell him that them and a couple others are going somewhere to do (insert vaguely/definitely illegal job or act of community service here) and Danny, who is deeply directionless in life currently, and also pretty assured in his ability to eat danger for breakfast, and has never met an institutional authority he doesn’t disrespect at least a little bit, is totally down for some civil disobedience and chaotic good shenanigans.

And then it spirals from there. Like. A worrying amount.

It takes Danny actual months, almost a year, to realize that he’s been low key slow cooked into the criminal underbelly of Gotham, and like… he’s not really mad about it?? Honestly if he had a choice when he came to Gotham, he probably would have picked the redhood gang anyway. He just seems to vibe with them on a… Spiritual Level…

Hm

Anyway

Years go by, and while Danny doesn’t have the most going for him in terms of a normal person life, vis a vis higher education, official employment, health insurance, dating life, or any other benchmark one uses to measure the trajectory of their lives— Danny’s feeling pretty good! Jazz, Tucker, and Sam have all finagled their ways into Gotham, (Tucker has a WE internship, Jazz is working/doing work studies at Arkham, Sam does what she likes now that she is a legal adult and has her inheritance, and what she likes is environmental activism, and occasionally being spotted with fellow activist Damian Wayne, and someone who may or may not be poison ivy, sources differ) and Danny finds his obsession suspiciously well served as a hood goon. Hood hench? Redgoon? Hench hood?? Name pending, who cares.

Danny is also suspiciously good at, well, his job. One of the best runners, even when he gets caught and frisked they never seem to find the goods on him (they never do check IN him, but then why would they) very well liked at every volunteer spot they have, patient, kind, funny, good with old people, kids, bitter people, addicts and the homeless, the sick and injured. And yet also very competent in the field, when they finally let him do actually dangerous things. Act as protection detail to the working girls in the red light district, he’s very respectful, and very good at intimidation, de-escalation, and when push comes to shove, excellent in a fight. Knows when to keep pressing his advantage and when to make a retreat with whoever he’s guarding. Not afraid to fight scrappy, and presses through pain and fear like a true gothmite.

He gets so good at his not really a job job that he becomes essentially, Redhoods right hand man.

The rest of the bats are skeptical of this for several reasons. Because generally speaking, the people in Jason’s turf are not fans of the bats, but Jason does a lot of coordinating with them, and someone so close to him is going to pick that up eventually if they’re half as sharp and useful as Danny is. Other than that, secret identity issues, plus pit rage, plus the fact that Jason trusts pretty much nobody. But Jason has great feelings about this guy, he always feels more clear headed and even keeled when he’s around, and he helps Jason remember the community he’s trying to build, and the community he serves. Also he delegates and mother hens like nobody’s business, but Jason just really can’t seem to work up too much irritation about it.

It is around this time, however, that the past, and shady government organizations come knocking.

Perhaps the GIW has also noticed how ecto-contaminated and lawless Gotham is and decided that they could start doing research and experiments with its live and undead denizens instead of amity, where the portal has closed, and ghost activity is down since phantom disappeared. Or maybe the GIW has finally located phantom specifically and is interested in what they’re always interested in. Or maybe it’s various ghosts harassing Danny to take up the throne, which he’s been avoiding successfully, but having settled into a life routine that suites him his core has finally ‘settled’ (halfa cores fluctuate more than other cores due to the transient nature of being alive, but halfa people settle into lifelong patterns and relationships quicker than other people because of the static nature of being dead) he is mature enough by ghost standards to assume the throne, or at least begin preparing for it.

Regardless, danny is being tracked down for his childhood baggage’s extended warranty, and brings the entirety of the JL and almost all associated sidekicks, hero group spin-offs, and organizations into the thick of it.

Idk. I just got through Secretary Danny by DeathlySilent13 on ao3 and I thought man oh man wouldn’t it be neat if Danny got to be Jason’s second in command instead??? That could open up a lot of avenues I haven’t seen yet. I’m also just very curious about how the Jason’s runs his gang according to the fandom, and I think that with all the ACAB energy Danny has been assigned, he should have a little bit of community focused organized crime. As a treat. Like I said I don’t go here thou, I just needed to put this somewhere and see if it vibed with anybody besides me

[nemesis-writer]

Alphabet Boy

Masterlist

Always aiming paper airplanes at me when you're around You build me up like building blocks just so you can bring me down You can crush my candy cane, but you'll never catch me cry If you dangle that diploma and I dead you, don't be surprised

Damian was never as special as he thought he was. He had his errors, and you had yours. But yet your errors were considered as a tarnish to the Wayne family. You're always better than him, yet your talents were always considered as beneath him.

Your pain was even worse than him, yet you didn't complain, and you didn't shed a tear. All of your talents were God-given, and you never had to practice since it was so perfect.

But, if you're so perfect why won't they look at you?

I know my ABCs, yet you keep teaching me I say fuck your degree, alphabet boy You think you're smarter than me with all your bad poetry Fuck all your ABCs, alphabet boy

You were the first to learn gymnastics, all the martial arts training to defend oneself, cooking, hacking, and more. But yet you always seemed so useless, so weak.

You grew up in the streets till you were 12, and had learned their language, their style, and how they were able to get money. But with all these self-taught talents, no one would give you the satisfaction of looking at you.

The only talents that truly helped you are, pickpocketing, hacking, and killing. You learned all of them from the streets and from training at school. You could've been the best vigilante for the city, you could even be more talented than Robin Hood.

I'm not a little kid now, watch me get big now Spell my name on a fridge now with all your alphabet toys You won the spelling bee now, but are you smarter than me now? You're the prince of the playground, little alphabet boy

You didn't get what you deserve, because of that thing. Since no one gave you your reward, you'll take it yourself. You never needed their help for a long time. Everything you did was for yourself and for murder.

You were never envious of them, since your talents were considered as an era-defining genius, but yet you remained untouched and unloved.

Apples aren't always appropriate apologies Butterscotch and bubblegum drops are bittersweet to me You call me a child while you keep counting all your coins But you're not my daddy and I'm not your dolly And your dictionary's destroyed

No one can hear your cries, no one can see your tear-shedded eyes, no one can see your fragile body filled with scars and demons of your past.

You remained haunted by the memory of your late parents wishing you could join their utopia. But no, no one would grant that wish, not a genie in a lamp, not a fortune cookie, not even the Joker could grant you that quiet satisfaction.

So you did the last thing that seemed so erratic for a person in your position...

You fled

Alphabet boy, oh, alphabet boy Alphabet boy Alphabet boy, my alphabet boy Ooh

You've become a villain of every story, you've become an urban legend that everyone feared. You've become top of the ladder of criminals, criminals and heroes alike have been searching for you. So much, that the Joker fears you and plans to eliminate you.

The Bats have been expecting your demise without even knowing what you really were, and what you became. You're known in the underworld as, 'Eurus', because it described the unlucky east wind, and that''s what you were.

Unlucky.

"Eurus! That's enough, no where to run."

"Cmon' bats you can't kill me even if you wanted to."

"We can and we will."

*cackles*

"Still righteous as usual Robin, or should I say,

'Richard'."

"Who are you?"

"Your demise."

"We know who you are", Damian

"You don't know shit. Damian."

"How do you know our names?", Jason asked.

"Because unlike you I made an effort to know Mr Wayne, or should I say. Dad."

"Y/N?"

You took of your mask and they were shocked.

It was their child.

I'm not a little kid now, watch me get big now Spell my name on a fridge now with all your alphabet toys You won the spelling bee now, but are you smarter than me now? You're the prince of the playground, little alphabet boy

A/N: I kinda rushed in this fic, but I hope you like it!

Taglist

@lunayaps, @not-aya, @iluvcatzz, @vanessa-boo, @ivyrose9194,@thesehandsarerated-e, @eyeless-kun, @errorunfound1, @gwyneveire

[ghosthoard]

PART 9

parts 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09

Time’s armor was convoluted. 

He had perfected the art of getting it on on his own years ago, but he always appreciated a helping hand, usually Malon, but recently one of his boys, or his big brother would take the time to help him.

Right now though, Twilight was still sitting by Wild while the camp was dismantled around him and the others set about getting themselves ready. So, Time went through the motions of putting on his chainmail, his tasses, and his fauld alone first.

It had so many pieces and so many straps, heavy and unbendable. Armor such as this made the impression that there were no weaknesses to the wearer nor any openings, but there could never be a perfect armor set if it wanted to allow freedom to its bearer. He remembered learning the hard way that he needed to be aware of where he was vulnerable, where the armor was left open so that he could bend his knees, his arms, have maneuverability of his groin, his neck. 

It was a statement, it was formidable, and it was an old friend.

Every now and then, however, he missed when he was young and spry, when his fighting style relied on speed and being small without being weighed down by all this armor. But he also remembers when he was young and spry wishing he could deal more damage then he did with one strike, to be more of a force to be reckoned with to protect the Captain and Tune’s back. It was a wish he made every time he had donned the Fierce Deity mask.

If he wanted to do sweeping, debilitating damage in one swing of his Biggoron sword, then the armor was a necessity. 

In the process of donning the set, it was his chest piece and his pauldrons where things got more difficult. He used his teeth to hold straps while he maneuvered his arms around locking everything in place. 

But he must be out of practice, too spoiled by the helping hands around him, because the chest piece started to slip and he went to catch it knowing he wouldn’t be fast enough. 

The chest piece stopped falling in midair, and Time blinked.

“Let me help.”

The Captain had caught it, of course, that made more sense.  

Warriors was smiling when Time looked at him. 

“You’re wearing makeup,” shock spilled the words out of him. 

It wasn’t the type of makeup Warriors would put on when he was feeling especially happy, where it made him prettier doing something with charcoal to make his eyelashes more prominent or more playful with colors and patterns. It was the natural, utilitarian style he used during the war when he didn’t want his men or enemies hidden among friends to see him weakening, or when he covered up bruises and scratches and scars. 

Warriors’s eyes dulled slightly but the smile was one made for him and it was patient and loving. “Arms up.” 

Time didn’t listen. The Captain must be getting slow if he expected him to just accept the drop in conversation. He stared and waited. 

Wars sighed, muttering something like, “always been stubborn,” before forcing the chest piece against Time’s chest and instructing him to hold it while he grabbed the back piece. 

Time obediently held the armor in place while Wars set about tightening the straps and speaking, “I thought it wouldn’t be great for our remaining morale if I looked ugly.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Time said immediately. “You don’t have to pretend with us.”

“I know. But I guess old habits die hard. This makes me feel more secure.” Warriors patted him on his pauldron to punctuate his point. 

Before Time could organize his thoughts enough to respond, the Captain asked, “What were you thinking about before I came over?”

Twilight still hadn’t moved. 

Legend was right. They did look like two corpses. 

“I was thinking about how much my fighting style has changed over the years,” he was saying, “How speed was a familiar weapon but something I can no longer wield. How I’m now weighed down by this armor.”

“I’m relieved that you wear it now,” the Captain said with a fond, wistfulness in his voice. “Do you know how stressed I was seeing you on the battlefield without any sort of armor? I’ve thought about scooping you up and dumping you into a full set so often I had dreams about it. But I knew you’d be a little brat about it if I ever brought the idea up.” 

A little bit of childish indignance made him frown. “Tune didn’t wear any either back then.”

“Yeah, well. He at least was mature enough to ask for leather armor as the years passed and he grew bigger.”

Time remembered that. Remembered being jealous when the Captain gifted Tune specially crafted leather armor he had bought just for him and then took the time to spar with the sailor for a couple of days to get used to fighting in it. So jealous in fact that when he was asked if he wanted his own, instead of the truth, he told them it looked dumb and that he was good enough to fight without it unlike some people.  

A funny look had twisted Tune’s face. Back then, Time thought he was laughing at him, but now he knew exactly why. How silly it would be to see a man you had looked up to acting as spoiled and childish as he had been. 

“You were our armor, shield, and sword back then,” Time told the Captain as he now looked over at where Wind was speaking with Sky. “I was never afraid when you were around. Maybe more afraid of what would happen to you.”

“And that was never your burden,” the Captain went to stand in front of him, finished with the armor. The weight was comforting and secure. Time looked at how the foundation was caked on below the Captain’s eyes. “I’m a hero. And so are the rest. You can’t take responsibility for us and our pains,” a knowing look, “or our deaths.”

Time met his gaze daringly. “You didn’t fail us.”

“It was a miracle, and not by my hand that you two outlived the war,” the Captain said sternly, the grain of the powder lessening the lines of his frown. “Don’t hold yourself up against me in comparison.”

“Twilight almost died, Wild has died under my leadership, under my protection. If I had died—”

The Captain closed his eyes and turned away as if the thought physically pained him.

Time continued to land the blow, “—you would have blamed yourself.” 

His brother’s voice was fragile and quiet when he said, “Would you have wanted me to? Would you have agreed if I did?”

“You would believe it no matter what I thought,” he said ruthlessly. “You blame yourself even now for Wild.”

Time saw exactly when the Captain’s walls came up. The makeup looked at home on this expression. “This isn’t about me.”

Hypocrite. Time wanted to shout. You would have me blameless while you wore the same blame on your face! When it was my burden, my son, a curse I set upon my own flesh and blood for being so inadequate my descendants had to make up for it! Even when I am with them I can’t protect them! This was anger, this was grief, this was …uncalled for.

Time rubbed a hand down his face, taking a steadying breath. This was a moment where he needed to step back and get some space. He started to walk away. The Captain didn’t deserve this, his big brother only meant to comfort him and here Time was attacking him like a child. He just needed a moment.

“You decided not to use the ocarina.” 

The words stopped him in his tracks.

The ocarina used to be an easy fix. Goddess knows how many times he’s played the song when he was a child. 

The moment he saw Wild’s body, it had been a burning presence in his pouch. Always there.

It was a possibility that had taken over Time as he sat there for hours beside Wild and Twilight. Not really in his body, not really out of it. He had listened to Twilight’s whining, his howling. The answering silence of Wild’s body. How many more times must he sit helplessly by a loved one?

“If I used it,” Time said carefully, “I don’t know if it’ll rewind for all of us, or split the timeline again. I could disappear from this time, leaving you all behind.”

He would never know. If he used the ocarina, he would never know if the timeline split or if he rewound time for all of them. He’d die never knowing for sure. He would’ve died ignorant of split timelines—of the timeline he abandoned —in the first place if it weren’t for this goddess-given mission. But regardless, there’d be a life where Wild was alive. He could make sure of it. What use was the title the Hero of Time if he couldn’t even make this right?

“I think,” the Captain replied from behind him, just as carefully, “I would rather grieve with you, than to try to undo something without knowing a hundred percent if it’ll work.”

Even with so many secrets shared among their family, not everyone knew about the ocarina, Time wasn’t the type to flaunt the instrument around after all. Wind, Sky, and Wild were there when they talked about the possibility of a split timeline. One less person who knew his secret.  And he had confided in the Captain after the revelation.

Twilight didn’t know.

After that life-altering conversation, before Twilight almost died, Wild had sought him out. The young man had plopped down next to him on the ground, looking at him with those unnerving, blue eyes of his that seemed to see things in Time that even he didn’t know about. 

“I was thinking,” Wild had said, “I was so ready to go back in time when I thought you had the power to. It was a dream come true for a moment, I could go back, fix everything and things would be right again.” 

Something wistful and wise settled around Wild like peace. “But if it meant that I would have to leave you all behind, leave this timeline behind, I don’t think I could do it. After meeting all of you and hearing about all the other adventures you’ve gone on, I can’t expect that my job is done. I abandoned them once before,” Time still remembered Wild’s small smile, “what if they still need me?”

Back at the inn, back in that room where Twilight lay dying, Four had told Time the confrontation he had with Wild outside of Twilight’s sickbed like the guilt of it was killing him. Time remembered being ready for Wild to storm in and demand he use the ocarina should Twilight die. But when, instead of a grief driven little brother, an insightful and inspirational hero came to them, Time realized he was using Wild as an excuse. It wasn’t Wild who would’ve used the ocarina, but him that was tempted in the first place. He was anticipating it, hoping for Wild to give him a reason to. 

“But there’s a chance,” Time continued, turning around to look at his big brother as the man walked over to close the gap he’d made, “if I decide not to take that chance, how could I bear to face him?”

If Twilight knew about the ocarina, would he be the one to demand Time use it? 

Time had never been good at moving on. 

As always, the Captain seemed to know exactly what ailed him, “Twilight wouldn’t risk losing you too. It’d kill him to ask you to use that ocarina as much as it’d kill him if you actually did. And, goddess dammit, Sprite,” a small crack in the Captain’s voice, “I can’t bear to lose you again. And maybe that’s selfish. I would give anything to have Wild back, but—” 

Time reached out as his brother bit his bottom lip and looked away, trying to pull it together. He held onto his Warriors’s wrist and saw how he could completely wrap around it now. He hadn’t been able to before. 

“But not you,” Warriors finished quietly, like the words were poison, like he was disgusted with himself. “I’m asking you to stay.”

“I want to stay,” he had cried through angry, scared tears, clinging to the Captain’s scarf and glaring up at his big brother, the portal that was to take him home a sickly cold presence behind him. “You can’t make me leave. You still need me and you know it.”

“Anyway” Wild’s small smile had stretched into a mischievous grin, “what would you all do without me and my food if I up and vanished? Wouldn’t last a day, I bet.”

His silence must have gone on for too long, because the Captain took a step back from him, pulling out of his grip.

Warriors had schooled his expression back, smoothed the cracks out on his porcelain face. He was looking past Time’s shoulder. “You should talk to him. Then you’ll know that he loves you just as much as Wild and you can forget about this misplaced guilt.”

Warriors was the one to walk away this time. Time didn’t stop him.

First | Previous | Next

@naxamiss @theyellowfriend @st0rmyskies @chaos-advocate @mothielad @jenniferchaulam @originsofevil @links-in-time @homewardwander @gothroughthelookingglass @seaotter-17 @alicewritingstories @silvrash-797 @niffty24

wanted to get one last part out before the end of the year!!! thanks as always for all the comments, reblogs, and likes! see you guys in 2025!

[thehypnone]

HI HYPNONE !!! I hope youre doing well !!!

We have a headcanon that Aeon/Phantom is blind and missing a limb due to a summoning accident ,,, do u have any thoughts or ideas about this at all,,,

first ficlet of 2025! i focused on the blind part because i also love @midnight-moth's headcanon where bug kinda sees with his quintessence, so here's my take on him learning to do it

“Now focus,” Omega tells him quietly, so as not to break Aeon’s concentration. “Get the quintessence out and feel the world with it.”

The younger ghoul takes a deep breath and when he releases it, his magic starts radiating from him and spreading around the small room they’re currently in. As it settles on some items placed here and there and the walls, Aeon starts feeling them; though he can’t quite make out what is what or where just yet.

He needs it if he wants to perform on stage as he was summoned to do.

Yes, he could learn to function being blind—and missing half a leg and most of his tail—but it would not only take him long, but also wouldn’t suffice for touring. Aeon is determined and him being a quintessence ghoul is a blessing in disguise in this situation; knowing it’s possible, Omega has offered to teach him a skill that could make up for the sight he’s lost during his summoning.

“Let it settle like dust over everything,” the older ghoul advises, “let it hug everything and then you’ll get it all mapped out in your mind.”

Aeon tries; he pushes more waves of magic out and wills them to do what Omega’s just described. He can feel the quintessence thickening and starting to collide with different things and they do start taking shape in his brain, making him break into a smile.

“Don’t cheer just yet,” Omega gently scolds him, but he’s happy and proud of the other, too. He’s been working so hard and it’s finally starting to take effect. “Don’t lose focus, push it more.”

The younger ghoul keeps smiling, but his brows draw further together in concentration and determination. He obeys and presses on with his mind and then–

“The guitar!” he exclaims. It makes the whole thing drop, but Aeon doesn’t care. “Omega, the guitar, it was there, I had–I saw it!”

Omega chuckles as he reaches out to pat the other on the back, “Good job, bug. You’re doing so well!”

“Does it work the same with people? With faces?” Aeon asks eagerly, with his smile so bright Omega might just tear up. He’s so incredibly proud of him.

“More or less, yeah,” he replies and the other’s smile grows impossibly.

“I want to see you! Can I see you? Please!!!” Aeon begs, his nub of a tail wagging. How could Omega decline?

“It’s a bit trickier, but yes,” he says, “I believe you’re capable of that, you just need to focus really hard.”

“Okay! I can do it.” The younger ghoul decides and then shakes the excitement off of himself, making Omega chuckle—he’s not unlike a wet dog shaking off water. He needs a moment to get rid of the excessive emotion before he can ground himself and properly focus again, but after a couple minutes he’s ready.

Aeon gathers up his quintessence before pushing it out again—except this time he directs it all in front of himself, at Omega, instead of all around the room. Slowly, the older ghoul’s body shape starts appearing in his mind and it grows sharper and sharper until he’s not a blob of purple light anymore, but…Omega.

Aeon tears up as he looks at the face of his mentor for the first time. He’s smiling with pride at him and that makes it even better—even though Aeon doesn’t yet know how to recognize the emotions on others’ faces, he can feel them strongly.

“I hope I am not ugly enough for you to regret me being your first ever seen face Topside?” Omega jokes—he can see his lips moving—and tears start falling from Aeon’s sightless eyes before he throws himself forward, into the others’ arms.

“You’re g–gorgeous,” Aeon sobs into his chest as the image from his mind starts to fade—he mourns it already, but it only makes him even more determined to master this skill. He wants to see his packmates. He needs to see them.

“Oh, kiddo,” Omega coos; also quite moved. Then, in an attempt to lighten the mood again, “Wait until you see Cumulus’ boobs.”

[r0-boat]

Yandere!Lighter Hcs RAA

This is pure rambling word vomit I just need him.

*drops all of my ZZZ Yandere headcannons* Oh no please I beg you don't read them 👀👀👀

Wise and Belle are next

Cw: Not healthy relationship, NSFW, non-con, kidnapping, implied that he is going to harm you, He is not okay, do not read if you are not okay.

Lighter is sickly sweet to you like candy, He's close to the sons of Caledon but they would never understand how he feels for you. Everyone else outside the people he respects he doesn't care. Without you he saw the world in black and white. It might sound cheesy but you are his everything. And like hell he was going to lose his everything without a fight.

It doesn't matter if you love him or not, would be easier if you just accepted his love and stayed with him.... Not going to lie it hurts, It fucking hurts The fact the one person he fell in love with his first love does not feel the same. He never felt like this before nor he'll ever in his future.

Lighter we'll never just straight up admit his feelings for you He's too scared that you'll reject him. And he is downright terrified that you'll find out about his obsession for you that feels too damn good to stop.

You will never know that with his connections he has hired a few people to take a few pictures of you. Pictures that He uses the touch himself to every night.

You will never know how pathetic you make him feel when he can't have You in his field of vision for a single second.

Threatening anyone who is close to you, using intimidation alone at the others around you to make sure he's the only one you need. To you your friends and family we'll just think Lighter is a bad influence and a bad boyfriend, You none the wiser we'll think they're not looking past his looks. Because how could he be so deplorable and possessive when he's just so sweet?

Lighter when snaps he tries to calm has already spiraling mind, His shaky hands trying to fish in his pocket for a jawbreaker for him to suck on as his anxiety starts to spike and he makes a spontaneous decision to kidnapped you, He was never one for big plans or manipulation or anything. But he has you now and... He doesn't really want to let go of you. He knows full well that you don't like him It still hurts every time he's reminded of that. But he's so so sure that he could make you fall in love with him. All you have to do is... Stop being bad.

Lighter acts like the delusional yandere, Even though he's fully aware of how you feel about him. I think he just chooses to ignore it.

Believe him he doesn't want to punish you, He doesn't want to chain you down, or tie you up, or lock you away. And he certainly doesn't want to hurt you. He wants to protect you. Protect you from everything that can hurt you outside. But he will if he has to, It's the only way to make you see reason. you'll learn your lesson... One day.

Lighter is still sweet to you, maybe even sweeter now that he knows he gets to come home to the love of his life, You come home with flowers, candy, anything you like. And as soon as he sees you his tired face will lighten into a smile as he drops on his knees to your level to kiss your face and gently touch you.

He can't keep his hands off you "Hey baby~ how was your day today?"He would mumble against your neck pepper and kisses on your collarbone, He knows full well how your day has been and What you have been doing. But he wants to hear you say it. He wants to hear that voice he's been aching to hear all day. He really needs it.

He wants you on his cock so bad, when he has you in his lap stroking your thigh with his hand, you could feel something poke into your butt. But he can't take you; He wants to make love to you, And he can't do that when you don't realize how much He loves you.

He's not sure how long he'll last since the more you push him away the more he just wants to say "fuck it, You want a villain? you'll get one." to train your cock drunk self to take him everyday. But he wants you to love him; He doesn't want you to lust for him. He wants to come home and cook dinner with you, have a casual conversation, and cuddle by the fireplace before he makes love to you right there as the dancing fire casts your shadows on the walls.

He wants you to feel loved in his arms, He wants to be all mushy gushy and romantic with you. He wants all these things that he's afraid that he'll never have in his life. And he rather just force it on the one person he fell in love with.

[tacagen]

one of the things that fascinate me about thawne: yes, he CAN be normal with kids! surprisingly normal!

((not at all times, though. his mental illness still spills through and as usual he, in trying to manipulate or hurt others, spits out at them the exact stuff that would hurt him (or have in his childhood/barry's rejection interpretation) the most in the first place lmao))

but at the same time. his like second instinct when doing his bullshit is FUCK THEM (as) KIDS

(and, well. whatever this classifies as)

[riftsmagic]

I want to enjoy this game so bad bc I paid money for it and I’ve invested 70 hours of my life into it already. but I’ve gotten to a point where it’s SO hard not to get critical every time anything happens. im losing it

[iniziare]

Tag drop: Seele (Honkai: Star Rail). Listen, I used to write her and I miss her a bit, and also: there's Belobog people around. And also, well, she's much more interesting than people give her credit for. Also, prepare for some 'rewriting', because Belobog's pacing in specific ways kind of blew a little bit much.

[viir-tanadhal]

genuinely do not understand people's preoccupation with the idea that johnny and morrissey's friendship could have at all been long-lasting

[godnattakatta]

thinking abt mungojerrie and demeter (again)

[pears-trinkets]

.

[readwritealldayallnight]

(part of the Wife at First Sight series)

In Ghost’s eyes, the first time you smiled up at him was the moment you became his and his alone.

So what if everyone apart from you knew it?

Didn’t make it any less of a fact, as far as he was concerned.

Still though, he wanted to learn more about just who his pretty little wife was, including anything that might make letting you know about your marriage a little easier. And so like the good soldier he is, he goes about it as though it were a reconnaissance mission.

He asks you how you take your coffees and teas, holding his breath as he watches you take the first sip of whichever drink he’s made you that day, pride swelling in his chest when you tell him it’s perfect, even better than when you make it.

The first time he’d done so, your eyes widened in surprise when he put his large, gloved hands over yours where they were wrapped around the mug, leaning forward and bringing the rim to his lips where he took a sip for himself, eyes locked with yours. You were unsure of what to think or say, but he apparently decided for you that this was okay, returning the warm drink to your mouth where he encouraged you to take another sip.

You figured that it was alright, he did make the tea for you after all, right?

You even laughed when he started only serving you in a mug with ‘Mrs.’ printed across the side, certain that it hadn’t been in any of the common room’s cupboards before.

He eyes the book peeking out of your bag one morning as you tuck it away, purchasing his own copy the very same day, curious to know what you like reading. You’re pleasantly surprised, if not a tad confused, when you find the next two books in the trilogy sat atop your desk soon after, a small note written in chicken scratch lain on top reads ‘To : Wife’. He’ll make a point of commenting on the novel if he sees you holding it, slipping in tid bits of information to impress you show he’s read it as well, likes the same things you like.

He’ll joke about how the food on the dining hall is always subpar, trying to casually find out what you like eating, subtly pulling out his phone and typing anything new into his notes app where he’s been keeping track of all your likes and dislikes. He just wants to get things right with you, be good for you, prove he can be the husband you need. You’re already perfect in his eyes, his sweet little soulmate who just doesn’t know it yet.

Though this was the first military base you’d ever worked on, you couldn’t recall anyone having ever warned you about the way Lieutenants apparently like to haze the new hires, never mind the fact that everyone else was apparently in on it.

No one bats an eye when you go to take the empty seat next to him in a briefing, and he wraps his strong arms around you to instead plop you down onto his muscular thighs, carrying on with the task at hand as though this is perfectly normal and professional. Even the Captain hardly glances at the interaction, so you figure it’s okay, some strange form of team bonding?

Not a soul comments on the way the Lieutenant insists on being the one to cut up your food and feed you bites during meals in the dining hall, pretending as though they don’t hear him telling you about how “my wife works hard enough, don’t need to be liftin’ a finger wit’ me around, love.”

They know to move out of the way if you’re approaching a closed door, knowing if the Lieutenant is anywhere near, he’ll be rushing to open the door for you before you can even attempt to do it yourself.

Even Soap has stopped complaining aloud and only rolls his eyes when Ghost drops anything and everything he’s doing- whether it’s spotting the Sergeant in the gym, being out on a morning run, hell even being in the middle of a shower- to send you a good morning text at six o clock on the dot. Every. Single. Morning.

No, you never exactly anticipated this sort of a running gag from a hardened military base, but you’re not exactly complaining either.

Not when you find your heart fluttering every time your fake work husband dotes on you like he really would marry you at the drop of a hat.

Besides, it’s all just playful, innocent fun, right?

Especially when everyone begins to apparently forget your name and instead refers to you only as Mrs Riley.

And when the Captain tells you that your requested time off for a honeymoon has been approved, something which you definitely don’t remember requesting, well that’s all just fun too, right?

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

Heylo my maggotsies... I'm sorry to do this but I have a thing that I really, really need to do (thank you Ash for helping me realise that) but I'm terrified to. so well. I'm going to make one of the posts (Neil reblogged me a couple of days ago so I feel pretty safe making one now since he only lurks by once in two weeks so this is as good a time as it gets to make a post and not expect many notes, yes I'm an overthinker and I'm actually scared of this getting notes).

Sigh. Here goes.

...I'm scared of even typing it.

Nope okay I can do this let's go.

If this post gets 1k notes, I'll look up jobs in design and film making that don't need a college degree.

2k notes, I'll sign up for an Alliance Francaise course so I can have another language on my CV, and I'll find a course that teaches me how to use design software.

5k, I'll look up distance learning alternatives, because just talking about physical college yesterday made me spend the whole morning and afternoon today in and out of nightmares screaming. Fuck.

10k, I'll tell my mum that I can't do the offline college. She's been talking to me about it, but I've been dodging because I'm not well-off and I really need to be earning and idk how to do that without college and I feel so guilty.

15k, I'll officially back out from the college (does that count as dropping out, if it hasn't begun? maybe half. i am a college and a half dropout, my 11th grade self would hate me and my 10th grade self would refuse to believe it).

I don't know what I'll do then. I don't know how to live as trans here in India, I don't know how to earn enough to be able to help my family, I don't know what I'm good at and I'm so fucking terrified. But. I spoke to @random-doctor-on-the-internet last night (I love you Ash you're such a fucking amazing human) and they made me realise that well maybe landing in a hospital with steroids to relieve an allergy attack because of exam stress isn't normal and so.

Well. Here I am. I know I can't do it, but I'm scared to risk everything, it's just not something people do here, dropping out. But also (TW s**cide statistics mentioned below the cut)... And so I've just. Got to do it, got to save myself and say no to college (cue say no to school, kids joke). Somehow be brave enough. And yeah.

To quote a financial express article: "In an alarming situation, a total of 7,62,648 suicides were reported in India between 2018 to 2022, Of this student suicides account for 7.6% at 59,239". Maybe if more people did say fuck you to the system here, that wouldn't be the case. That number could have been 59,240 (aside from everyone who wasn't counted and hushed up), that could have been me, and I don't want to put myself in that situation again. You know? Yeah.