#or. does he think like. he's protecting my mail?

[scoops-aboy86]

Firefly AU where Captain Eddie (Mal) and Companion Steve (Inara) are dancing around each other while the latter is renting a shuttle on the former’s ship. (For those not familiar with Firefly, a companion is a prostitute with a centralized but extremely powerful and respected union. Companions are fancy. Very… coiffed and officially trained, with mandatory annual medical checkups.)

First mate Nancy (Zoe) is a total badass who served with Eddie in the war, married to pilot Jonathan (Wash). Everyone is so sure that Eddie and Nancy have a history… but they really wouldn’t work as a couple; too much clashing dom energy, even if Eddie weren’t gay as the day is long.

Instead of photography, Jon’s thing here is flying. Instead of toy dinosaurs, he has old miniatures that used to belong to his younger brother. No one knows the backstory to that, except maybe Nancy.

The ship’s engineer is Robin (Kaylee), who wandered on board one day and pointed out three mistakes their previous engineer was making basically before anyone else realized she was there. Eddie hired her on the spot and they bonded as fellow queers who grew up on backwater planets, dreaming of escaping to space.

Wayne (Shepherd Book) was attached to the ship from the beginning because he’s never not going to be Eddie’s uncle in my heart. Even Eddie isn’t totally sure what all Wayne was up to before Eddie’s dad dumped a preteen on him with no warning and then vanished. (Maybe there’s a running joke on the ship that Wayne probably just killed the guy; he knows too much about too many weirdly niche subjects to not have some sort of History.) But when Eddie was released from Alliance custody at the end of the war, Wayne attached himself to his nephew and likes to keep him grounded, humble, and reasonably honest, for an outlaw… He doesn’t really object to Eddie’s line of work, but will absolutely speak his mind when he thinks Eddie is being stupid about anything.

Their weapons guy, Billy (Jayne), is a mercenary purely there for the money. He gets a moment in one chapter where he proudly wears a questionable hat his mother sent him in the mail, and one chapter set on a planet where he’s considered a hero for stupidly coincidental reasons and he has a genuine moment of feeling bad that some of them got hurt protecting him from an attack, but mostly he’s just an asshole.

They pick up a passenger on one trip through Persephone, a doctor named Kali (Simon). Unlike Simon, she does put up a good front of unflappable and serious, but tends to go all flustered and awkward around Robin. In the first chapter Kali is discovered to be transporting her younger sister, Eleven (River), in stasis in the ship’s cargo. She broke Eleven out of an Alliance lab where they were messing with the younger girls brain and they’re fugitives, better off constantly on the move so Eddie keeps Kali on as long as she acts as ship’s doctor and they don’t cause trouble for him or his crew.

I desperately want Billie as a widely popular girl’s name in this ‘verse so the “Well Jayne ain’t a girl” moment can still happen when Eleven blandly comments on it. And I want Kali to drug him when he tries to take control of the ship one time while Eddie is away.

Reavers are basically the Flayed.

Steve and Robin are platonic soulmates. Whenever Robin’s not working and Steve’s shuttle is docked, she goes in there and lets him do her hair while they shut talk about his more ridiculous clients. (He gets to pick them, and is able to blacklist any he has a reason to, but they’re still all mostly rich and snobby. Men and women, Steve is flexible.)

Anyway, they all do crimes and Eddie and Steve spend the entire time mutually pining for one another. That’s all the thought I have right now.

[trujellyfish]

[teaandspite]

The Great Goodreads Diss List (Part 1)

Context: For many years now, I have been collecting funny lines from Goodreads reviews to share with my coworkers. (I do collection development, reader's advisory, and weeding at a public library, so I read a LOT of reviews)

Are some of these, perhaps, rather mean? Yes, but they are also very funny, and come from a place of honest frustration. In the tradition of Bargepole threads and lists everywhere, names and titles have been censored.

"First, I want to say that I understand how hard it is to write a book and how amazing it is when it is actually published. Congrats to the author for that accomplishment. That said--"

"Warning: This review will be lengthy due to pure hatred."

"I found myself feeling really, really annoyed with the world that this book is allowed to exist. We live in a universe where the passenger pigeon is extinct but this book goes along merrily being read by unsuspecting lovers of words and ideas and stories? It just seems like too much, you know?"

"Don't do it. Don't spring the cash for the hardcover. Instead, eat an entire bag of Twizzlers, spend some money you don't have at a high-end department store, look up on Facebook the shady college boyfriend that made you cry, research the current value of your home or 401K and then read all about how the big hedge fund managers are faring during the economic crisis. You'll feel about the same stomach pain if you waste your time reading this book."

"This wretched novel begins with the mugging of an old lady and it appears I may be in the process of repeating that loathsome crime as [author] was 78 when she wrote it. It is not nice to put the boot into such a poor defenseless old creature lying there with only a damehood, a Booker Prize and a few million quid. It’s a nasty job but somebody has to do it."

"I think this is the way dead people would write, if they could."

"I am considering setting up SPABB: Society for the Protection of Accurate Book Blurb. This blurb appears to have been written by someone from the publishers who met [the author] the night before, got very drunk, lost his notes and then constructed something in a fug of hangover the next morning."

"I congratulate [the author] on the early half of his book, which was thoroughly fun and made me laugh and think. I congratulate [the author] on the second half of his book, for finishing it. It reads like that was difficult."

"…a woman whose taste in contemporary literature has roughly the same batting average as a pitcher in the National League."

"The author is a pompous windbag."

"Recommends it for: No one. Recommended to me by: A friend who apparently wished to cause me great suffering."

"Makes me wonder: is it possible to obtain similes at a volume discount?"

"The repeated phrases made me want to mail a thesaurus to the author."

"I'm disappointed in myself for finishing this book."

"if the author described [character's] eyes as "obsidian" one more time I was tempted to write her and ask if her thesaurus broke."

"They say that an infinite number of monkeys with an infinite number of typewriters would, if given infinite time, eventually produce the complete works of William Shakespeare. [This book], on the other hand, would probably take the average monkey just under two hours."

"I can't imagine what the author had to do to get this nadir of Western literature printed on innocent trees, but he does seem to know a LOT about being well-connected in New York."

"This book is so bad it is almost worth reading just to make you appreciate the other books you are reading."

"Reads like it was written by a brilliant author, the night before it was due."

"raises interesting questions, like: can a book be so bad as to constitute an act of terrorism"

"has this author ever spoken to a human woman"

"This acorn has fallen so far from the tree that it can’t even see the forest."

"I’m guessing they are touted as ‘beach reads’ because no one will care if they get dropped into the ocean."

"This book begins with all the energy of a hand vacuum near the end of its battery life, and the pace doesn't quicken much from there."

"At least everybody’s eyes stayed the same color this time around.”

Part 2

Part 3

[wonderjanga]

When Billy was a Newbie

I like to think some of these scenarios happened when Billy was first starting out as a hero.

Villain: *monologging*

Marvel: *doesn’t even let them finish and socks the shit out of them and takes them to the police department*

This happens a good twenty times until one villain has enough.

Villain: *monologging*

Marvel: *about to attack while they’re talking*

Villain: “OKAY WAIT WAIT WAIT, STOP RIGHT THERE YOU BASTARD.”

Marvel: *stops, confused*

Villain: “I know you’re new to this whole thing, but you do realize you’re supposed to let us monologue and tell you our evil plan, right?! You’re not supposed to cut us off!”

Marvel: “I’m not?”

Villain: “No!”

Marvel: “Oh. I’m sorry about that, Mx. Supervillain. I’ll let you and the other ones talk next time.”

Villain: “Wait, really?”

After this, he actually does end up letting them talk and all that.

I also think something like this would happen when he was getting used to fighting crime.

Marvel: *throws one of the big blue mail boxes at some low level, human, emphasis on human, crooks* “Oh… my bad, guys! I was a little too harsh.”

Crooks: *severely injured* “What do you mean ‘your bad’?!?????? That was a little more than harsh!”

Then, there’s the fact I think he wouldn’t care about where he’s saving people. By that I mean, Billy has a lot of free time because he doesn’t go to school. Because of this, you’ll casually see Captain Marvel in flipping Milwaukee helping some people who got into a car crash, then in Orlando helping out with a fire, then in San Jose helping someone who lost their dog. Point is, if there’s someone to help out, he’ll help. Through this, he met Superman actually. Funnily enough, it was while holding up a building.

Marvel: *holding up a building*

Supes: *flies down* “You’re Captain Marvel, right?”

Marvel: “Huh? Uh yeah?” *looks over Superman, seeing his suit and thinking he’s another hero (Billy doesn’t know most heroes because this was when the time bubble recently popped)

Supes: “You need a hand with that?”

Marvel: “Yes, please.”

Supes and Marvel: *work together to move the building to somewhere safe so it won’t hurt anyone*

Marvel: “Thanks.”

Supes: “No problem.”

*awkward silence*

Supes: “If I can ask, what brought you to Metropolis?”

Marvel: “I’m here to fight crime…?” *says like it’s super obvious*

Supes: “Wha? Don’t you have your own city?”

Marvel: “I mean, I guess. Fawcett isn’t really my city though. I just protect it.”

Supes: *blanking and trying to come up with something to say* “Captain, you can’t just go around in other hero’s cities and fight crime for them. It’s a breach of territory.”

Marvel: “It is?”

Supes: “Yes, it is. Honestly, I’m just happy you didn’t do this in Gotham. Batman would’ve been furious.”

Marvel: “Oh. Okay then… so just stick to cities that don’t have heroes?”

Supes: “Well, I guess but don’t you normally-”

Marvel: *beaming smile* “I appreciate the advice, Mr. Superman.”

Supes: “Your…welcome? Wait, what do you mean ‘stick to the cities that don’t have heroes’?”

Marvel: “Oh, well, when crimes slow and nothing’s going on in Fawcett, I kind of just fly around everywhere looking for stuff to do. Just the other day I helped these two old, farmer people, husband and wife, lift their tractor out of some mud.”

Supes: *a little astounded he has that much time on his hands* “Really? Where was that?”

Marvel: “Kansas. I think the town they lived in was Smallville or something?”

Supes: *nearly shits himself* “Ah… I see.”

Then there was the time he met a random Green Lantern. He had no idea what the Lantern Corp were, but any information Solomon gave him made them sound cool though. But you want to know the worst part of this interaction? The Lantern was trying to give Marvel a ring.

Random GL (RGL): *talking about how he wanted to give Billy the ring and yadayadayada*

Marvel: *not even listening due to the Gods talking a whole lot*

Mercury: “BILLY STEAL THE RING!”

Marvel: *saying this out loud* “What? What ring?”

RGL: *confused, says something Billy isn’t paying attention to*

Mercury: “THE RING ON HIS FINGER. KEEP UP WITH THE PROGRAM.”

Marvel: *still talking out loud* “Oh okay okay… how do I do that?”

Solomon: “You are supposed to use your will.”

Marvel: “Huh? Solomon there’s no way that’ll wor…” *trails off as he wills the ring off the lantern’s finger* “I take back what I said.”

RGL: *starts to fall*

Marvel: “Holy moly!” *rushes down to catch him*

RGL: “Earthling what the hell is wrong with you?! Why would you do that??!?”

Marvel: “I’m sorry! The voices has told me to.” *gives them back their ring*

RGL: *flies off grumbling how he’s a psychopath*

Then there was when Marvel joined the Justice League. When he got the communicator, he put it in his pocket dimension and promptly forgot about it.

Marvel: “The Justice League hasn’t contacted me. I wonder if I’ve done something wrong…”

Meanwhile…

Batman: “This is like the third meeting he’s missed, Clark.”

Supes: “I know, I know! I’m sorry! He didn’t seem like the type to skip out on meetings. He talked like he had a bunch of free time.”

WW: “You should go talk to him. You are the one who invited him.”

Supes: *sighs* “I will.”

Back in Fawcett…

Marvel: *helping a cat down from a tree*

Supes: *flies down when he sees him* “Captain! Can we talk?”

Marvel: *hands cat back to its owner* “Mr. Superman. Of course! I’ve actually had something I’ve been meaning to talk about with you too.”

Supes: “Right, well I guess I’ll cut straight to the point. Is there a reason you haven’t shown up to the last meetings?”

Marvel: *stares at him with the most confused face* “Meetings?”

Supes: *confused at Billy’s confusion* “Yes? You get notified on your comm about them.”

Marvel: “Comm… Comm?” *thinking face before recognition flits across his face* “Wait, this thing?” *reaches hand into pocket dimension and pulls out his JL comm*

Supes: *slightly horrified when he saw his arm disappear for a moment* “Yeah. That.”

Marvel: *taps comm and sees over 45 unread notifications* “Oh.”

Supes: *wondering how in the world Marvel never checked his comm* “Oh indeed.”

[andraxicated]

ꜱᴛʀᴇꜱꜱ

Pairings: Alhaitham x f! reader

Synopsis: Your husband comes home stressed and takes it out by ravaging you in the kitchen

a/n: for that anon who requested haitham's version of the previous previous scara fic eons ago. im sorry this just came out sksksks. (i've been working on this for a month because school fucks me up so bad as an academic achiever)

tw: usage of safe word/action | rough sex | breeding kink | dirty talk | smut to fluff

A slam resounds through the living room, not even a usual greeting coming from a deep voice; that was your cue to turn off the stove and take off your apron.

You see a tall figure coming over to you and there he was, Alhaitham your husband is sporting a huge frown and wrinkles on his forehead. It's obvious that he's upset, and the only thing that gets him this upset is work.

"Not even an "I'm home" to your wife? I come here and cook you dinner after my own work too you know?" You say, raising an eyebrow with crossed arms. You think you looked intimidating but you were nothing but cute in Alhaitham's eyes. Seeing your face works wonders to take off the stress so he holds it, pressing kisses on your face which you scrunch. And lastly, he does what he always does: make out with you while gripping your ass inappropriately.

"I'm home. Where's our baby?" He asks while tracing the sides of your body, lightly nipping on your ear.

"Sleeping. Oh, and something came by the mail today." You pull away from him to get the envelope tucked under a vase. You hand it to your husband and he sees the familiar handwriting with a stamp that makes his eye twitch.

"Those idiots..." He murmurs under his breath and you widen your eyes. Lightly amused and turned on by how the words curl on his tongue.

"Who is it from?" You ask, tip-toeing to peek over him as he reads the contents of the letters.

But before you could even see a word, he rips the paper into two and you stand there frozen in shock. Watching as the pieces of paper fall like snow yet you start to think about how annoying it would be to clean. You're getting mad too.

"Haitham?! What the-" "It's nothing important" He cuts off and heads right for your lips, tilting your head upwards as he pushes down with his weight to initiate deeper. His smooth flesh slides against your own, tongue peeking into your cavern as he holds your head for support. You could feel the heat rise within, your center throbbing as you feel his big hands that touch you hastily.

One of them came to stop to hold your boob, lightly squeezing as Alhaitham gauges for your reactions. "Look at me" He said.

An annoying feeling rested in his chest when you didn't, so he picks you up weightlessly and sets you on the counter. Strong hands pin you by the knees and you swear you could almost feel them turning to jelly.

"N-not here...ah" You could only give in to your husband, letting him spread your legs then cup your pussy, a whimper that almost escaped if he didn't capture it with his lips. Alhaitham loved seeing you squirm just like now, that embarrassed face you keep as he hikes your shirt to reveal the waistband of your bottom. He tugs it down while kneading your spongy flesh. Your thighs shake and you feel throbbing moist on your folds, accompanied by that certain itch to be filled up.

"Why not here?" He asks. "We've done it plenty of times in the kitchen." He teases butterfly kisses, showering you with lewd affection as your shorts came off, revealing the white lacy panty you've hidden since it arrived.

He was wondering why you always seemed to rush to the front door when the doorbell rang. He'd ask and you would brush it off, saying it was just newly released makeup from your favorite brand.

And now he sees this...his eyes see red like when he consumed divine knowledge, zeroed in on the white lace barely covering what it's supposed to protect. Then he scans the overall view; swollen lips, fucked out eyes, half-naked wife spread out on the countertop just for him.

.....archons. He thinks he's gonna put another baby inside you tonight.

"Are you wearing a set?"

Your eyes widen, feeling like a mouse caught in a trap. "Yeah...? Why?"

Alhaitham clicks his tongue. His hands beside your figure completely trapped you, and he leans down intimidatingly like a predator cornering prey. Your heart beats too loudly and the throbbing of your pussy was not helping. You're incredibly excited and turned on by this display.

What's your husband gonna say? What's he gonna do?

"Take it off. Take everything off." his dominant voice renders you motionless but when you see the warning glint in his eye, you immediately start taking off whatever you had on. You've done this multiple times already, yet him watching you present yourself still makes you feel the same, the kind that makes you want to be treated like a whore.

Naked in all your glory, Alhaitham looks at your stomach and remembers how it used to be swollen; filled with his child, a symbol that you're already his. And he wants to see it again, it's about time don't you think?

"What a good girl" He praised because he didn't even need to tell you to turn around and arch your back. You were already showing him your hole, ass wiggling accompanied by your whines. "Haitham! Please! Please fuck me, I want you—hahhhh~" You breathe out the last word, ass ghosting over his rock-hard member. Even grinding yourself like this is enough to make you cum. It isn't there but you could vividly feel the sensation of his thick cock inside you. "Please mhmm? I've been missing you lately. You're always so busy and I-oh!!!" You're suddenly pressed against the counter, his cock digging between your ass as a groan made its way to his lips.

"Yeah, I'm busy. So fucking busy with all this shit being Grand Sage." He growls, hastily unbuckling his belt and dropping his pants to the floor. The sound alone made you clench in anticipation.

"Everyone encouraged me to stay in this position. Including you..." He says with a tone that makes your heart sink. Back then, he seemed to be the only one suitable for the job, to lead the institution. He's a better choice than letting someone incompetent lead. And so, with enough discussion and encouragement from you and his peers, he accepted the fate of being Grand Sage.

"It keeps me away from you. So I'm stressed and lonely" Alhaitham whispers against your skin, lips ghosting over just to make you tense. You arch your back in response, your husband humming at how reactive your body was. "And when you're stressed, I let you bounce on my cock right? I fuck you like the way you want." A strong hand suddenly strikes your ass, and a shout of pain sprung up your throat as you let your breathing even. Your sensations are haywire, tiny moans coming from you as Alhaitham's bulbous head prods at your entrance. "So you'll let me do the same right?"

He waits for your answer but none came.

"Right?" He's impatient, he's been fighting this boner since from the office, jacking off to a recent picture of you. The head then enters, only a tiny part of what it fully is. You dumbly nod in agreement that you almost feel dizzy. "Y-yes! I use your cock when I'm stressed. So please..." It was the last straw: your seductive eyes and slutty hole looking back at him.

"Use me—AH!" Your mouth is left in shock as he buries himself to the hilt, a moan reverberating from the depths of your husband's throat. You were so fucking tight it was suffocating his cock. He knows it had been a long time since you were intimate but shit...it feels exactly like when you both lost your virginity to each other. Alhaitham feels like a boy who just got his first pussy.

"You feel heavenly my love. I'll start moving now." He says while kissing the side of your head. His hand snaked all over your body, trapping your figure with his strong arms, making you feel helpless. Once you were lifted off the counter with a tight buckle of his limbs, you already knew where it was going.

"Tap consecutively if you want me to stop. Alright?"

"Alright"

His gaze was intense, making sure you understood what he said before covering your mouth with his large palm, effectively blocking out words. He pulls away along with his cock sliding out and you thrash in his arms, his teeth already gritting at how tight and wet you were. You feel the tip arrive at your entrance, the build-up of fear and anticipation making you shake like a lamb in his arms. He whispers sweet nothings like "I'll make you feel good", "this will hurt a bit", "it's okay" and all of those push you to the edge of the line, feeling like heaven is just one step away.

While you're agape and fucked out, he surprises you by pushing in one quick thrust, letting you take a moment to realize what happened before he started to plunge repeatedly. Alhaitham basked in your muffled moans and looked down at his cock going in and out with glistening juices. Its lewd sounds filled the kitchen, prompting him to take a faster pace to keep on producing it. You scream as you feel the girth stretch you harshly, pounding against your cunt as the balls slap against you.

"Mhm (y/n)" Alhaitham let out a groan of your name, biting the lobe of your ear in the making. He was so rough on nights like this, leaving you breathless and dizzy in a good kind of way. To feel your beloved working you open like he always does, to feel the wetness dripping down your thighs, and to hear his moans ringing in your ear. It all feels so. fucking. good.

You try your best to push against him too, helping him reach your deepest spot even though he doesn't need any. The cockhead somehow always finds your g-spot, hitting furiously once he identifies it and focuses on stimulation. His harsh pounding won't stop, bouncing you between his body and the counter, your vision rocking up and down at the roughness.

Your nails dig crescents at his arms while you lose your mind in taking dick.

"Fuck fuck, fuck! I'm giving you another little one."

Alhaitham wasn't that talkative in sex, he prefers to lose his mind to the feeling of your tight walls than initiate conversations. Unless...he feels absolutely good that there is a need to be vocal.

"You'd like that, won't you? You don't have to do anything but care for our baby—ah shit! I'm slipping inside you so easily."

He didn't need to tell you because you already know it. The sheer feeling of your hole working on his ceaseless thrusts and how it gives way to the large cock gliding inside you raw.

The overdrive of sensations was all too much.

"Mhmphh!" You cry as his arms wrapped around you got a little too tight for your liking. You suddenly felt lightheaded, chest restricting in a way that makes you panic.

All it took was hurried taps on the arms scarred with crescents. And Alhaitham wasted no second to let you go. He immediately turned you to face him and showed how worried he was, painstakingly obvious on his horrified face. You would've laughed at him if you weren't trying to catch your breath.

"Jeez, haitham. You really are stressed." You try to lighten up the mood but it seemed to worsen as he let out a deep sigh.

With the way you're about to slump on the floor, he suddenly lifted you up to place you on the counter. Alhaitham started to massage your thighs, a guilty expression etched on his face.

"I'm sorry are you hurt? You feeling okay?" Every word feels like vomit, he had no right to ask you that when you're obviously pained all because he couldn't keep his dick in his pants. Turquoise eyes meet yours in shame and Alhaitham couldn't fathom why you have a smile on your face.

"Hey" Your voice alone lifted some of the heaviness off.

"I'm alright now, but can you go get me a glass of water?" You asked and then watched as he slipped on his pants, a momentary frown appearing on your face as you watch him tuck his member back. He filled up the glass of water and came back to hand it to you, watching you remedy your parched throat. After emptying the glass, you wipe your lips with the back of your hand and set the glass beside you before giving Alhaitham the most comforting smile you could muster.

"Before we could continue that mind-blowing sex, I think you need to let out your stress properly other than blowing out my back." His ears cutely tinge red at your vulgar words.

You chuckle at the scene and place your arms around his shoulders. Alhaitham then takes one hand off and kisses the back of it while looking at you. The beautiful shade of green seemed to ask for forgiveness so you nod.

He plays with your fingers gingerly, massaging each one of your digits. "I'm sorry for almost crushing you to death. I should've been more careful with my strength, I'm really...really sorry (y/n)."

"Yeah, you're not so much of a feeble scholar anymore. " You say and silence ensues for a while before both of you break into laughter. "You feel good now? Tell me what happened-"

"love...I don't really wanna burden you and I'm sure you want to sleep-"

"Haitham"

Oh no. Your voice was stern and it was clearly a cue for your husband to shut the fuck up.

"Listen to me" You start. "I share my burdens with you, I tell you what annoys me at work and how hard raising a toddler is...yet you don't tell me anything except Kaveh's loans!, except minor issues at the Akademiya!" You sniffle, tears coming to your eyes. "Tell me what bothers you. Share your burdens with me, hmm?"

With your pleading face and watery eyes, how could he not say no? He sighed a long one before kissing your forehead, whispering his reply to your ear while intertwining your fingers together.

"Alright, I will. Stay here, you must be cold. I'll go get a robe for you." And with that, you watch his figure disappear into one of the rooms as you sigh and look at the food that's gone cold.

[starry-bi-sky]

Childhood Friends Danny and Jason

(cw underage smoking / smoking as a form of bonding) (cw Jason thinking Danny killed himself but its only for a moment) (cw depictions of murderous intent? Danny wants to murder the Joker and he's a little descriptive about it)

Now on ao3 :) (and with a response and a third one)

AND ALSO A REMASTERED VERSION THAT YOU SHOULD TOTALLY GO CHECK OUT BECAUSE I WORKED VERY HARD ON IT.

This is… aha. Massive. Word count check: 9k+

this has probably been done before but hey, everyone loves a good trope and I wanted to share my take on this idea. 👏👏 So, Danny Fenton and Jason Todd being childhood friends. The Fentons lived in Crime Alley for a good long while during Danny's childhood. Nobody wanted to fund their research and Jack and Maddie struggled to keep any form of work for a multitude of reasons. Jack worked in construction due to his big build and Maddie had another job elsewhere.

Danny and Jason were friends during that time, really great friends. I'm not super solid on how they met yet but I do know it involves Danny committing petty crime and Jason deciding to jump in and help when he sees Danny struggling. Danny was distrustful (as all crime alley kids ought to be) but they eventually became thick as thieves, committing petty crime together.

While it's all too easy to make Danny the weaker one of the two with Jason protecting him, I actually really like the idea that they protected each other. Growing up (essentially) on the streets means Danny forcibly had to grow a backbone unless he wanted to get trampled all over. He is just as willing to scuffle with the bigger kids as Jason is, and he and Jason regularly fought each other whenever they needed to let off steam, or just because. They were a duo, having each other's backs in tough situations.

(Sometimes the pair of them would sneak out at night and try and get a glimpse of Batman and Robin while they soared through the air. It was like a game between the two of them to see who could spot the dynamic duo first. When they were a little older, Jason would steal his dad's cigarettes and share them with Danny while they searched for Batman and Robin)

So when Danny has to move away when they're eleven years old, it's pretty safe to say that Jason didn't speak to him for a week afterwards. Nothing Danny did could persuade him to otherwise, even when Danny insisted that it wasn't his fault and that he didn't want to move away either, but he didn't have a choice in the matter.

When the week was over, Jason climbed through Danny's window and sat in his room, dead silent and looking upset. he didn't speak until Danny fished out a stolen pack of cigarettes from his bed and handed one to Jason.

(It was a ritual they had where if one of them was upset about something but wasn't saying anything, the other one could then hand them a cigarette -- whether it be the one they were using or a new one -- and that would be an open invitation for the person to vent. The other one who handed him the cigarette wouldn't speak until the venter handed back the cigarette. Then back and forth it would go until the cigarette was gone.)

Jason ranted about how pissed he was about Danny moving, and they promised to try and stay in touch after he leaves. Neither of them had phones, but Danny was determined to send him a letters.

Danny moves to Amity Park and it's... an adjustment, that's for sure. He's angry, grumpy, upset, and every other negative feeling under the sun. He was going to a new middle school with new people he didn't know, away from all of the people he did know and away from his best friend.

(He does however keep his word about sending letters, and mails one out to Jason at the first opportunity.)

He refuses to get along with anyone, butts heads with the teachers, is combative, rude, and openly smokes in class -- which gets him plenty of detentions and a bad reputation. He speaks in a thick Gotham street accent and wears hand-me-down clothes that are too big and baggy on him. (His parents have yet to replace any of their wardrobes as they settle into their new life, and Danny is hesitant to spend the money to get new clothes.)

He only manages to befriend Sam and Tucker because one of the football kids was bullying Tucker and Danny stepped in. It was some blond jerk named Dash and when Dash threw the first punch, Danny broke his nose. Tucker found him later that day and reluctantly thanked him for his help.

Sam and Danny do not get along for the longest time. Sam questions Danny about his upbringing, his accent, his smoking. She judges him for talking back to the teachers despite doing it herself and for ruining his lungs with cigarettes. Danny tells her to fuck off, and when she tries to judge him and Tucker for not being vegetarian, he calls her a privileged brat.

Sam doesn't even look at him for two weeks after, and Danny refuses to apologize. Tucker is caught between a rock and a hard place as his old friend and new friend are feuding with each other.

They... sort it out eventually.

Danny and Jason send each other letters near religiously. Danny complains about Amity Park, and Jason complains about how Crime Alley isn't the same without him. Danny talks about the school and what he's learned, about Sam and Tucker, and how he's been getting into the astronomy books in the library. He steals Jason a book and sends it to him.

When Jason tells Danny that he was adopted by Bruce Wayne, Danny calls bullshit. There's no fucking way Bruce Wayne would even look at Crime Alley, regardless of his charity efforts towards it. But when he checks Gotham news later that week, he's hit in the face with every single news article announcing Bruce Wayne's newest ward; Jason Todd.

Cue freaking out. Jason talks all about living in Wayne Manor and what it's like there. He says that there's a monster library in a part of the house that Bruce says he has free reign over, and that Jason can have anything to eat as long as he asks Alfred to make it and it isn't a desert, and that he has his own monster-sized room that he got to pick out himself and decorate.

(When they both get phones, the first thing either of them do is add each other's numbers.)

When Sam complains about having to go to a Wayne Gala that her parents are dragging her to one weekend, the first thing Danny asks is if he can go with. It surprises Sam and Tucker; Danny was the last person they would have thought wanted to go with. HE hates the rich even more than Sam does. Danny stands firm in his decision, and refuses to elaborate.

"Besides." He says to Sam, with whom he's begun to get along with via 'the enemy of my enemy is a friend'. "Would you rather go alone or with someone you can tolerate?"

She brings him with and convinces her parents to allow Danny to come along, citing that she'll be on her best behavior if they do. They agree, and buy Danny a suit when he says that he doesn't have one of his own.

(He discovers that he hates wearing suit jackets and ties, but vests he doesn't mind. He doesn't like that he has to comb his hair back, but he does to make Sam's parents happy. They give him a crash course in etiquette that Danny's going to forget the next day, and soon enough off they go in a private jet to Gotham)

(he does not tell Jason he's coming.)

he feels mischievous and nervous as they touch down, his stomach swirling as Sam's parents usher them to a high-profile hotel that Danny's only ever dreamed about going into. He feels largely out of place as they walk through the lobby, and falls back on old habits: square shoulders, set jaw, make yourself look like the biggest person in the room.

They get ready in the hotel room, Sam's parents primp and preen for the night incoming, and Sam is dragged into it by her mother. Danny does only what's required of him, and fiddles with the sleeves of his fresh-ironed button-down that's been tailored to his body. He's itching for a cigarette, and didn't bring any with.

Sam's dad helps him with his tie, a bout of kindness that Danny doesn't think is one. Just obligation to prevent Danny from looking like a mess. Sam pesters him again about wanting to come, and his reasons for it, and Danny keeps mum.

He's stone-faced with anxiety as they get closer to the gala, and before they leave the limousine the Mansons rented Sam links arms with him. A form of solidarity that Danny needs as he squeezes their arms together and smiles weakly at her.

The paparazzi are loud, bright, and demanding, shouting questions over questions at them like overlapping tidal waves. Danny ignores them all and focuses on the front doors instead. Sam's parents whisper at the stairs that they are to greet the Waynes first, and Danny's heart leaps to his throat.

His heart is in his ears as they drift closer, Mister Wayne is preoccupied with another rich couple, smiling that charming billionaire smile that Danny saw on every billboard in Gotham, and then some in Amity Park. Getting so close to him feels unreal.

And there by his side is the one and only Jason Todd, who isn't even trying to hide the bored look on his face as he watches Bruce interact with the other adults. He's gotten taller in the year they've been away, and healthier. His hair looks like its been cut professionally and he doesn't look as street kid skinny.

Danny's arm, hooked with Sam's, tightens up, and he resists the urge to rush forward and hug Jason. He watches Jason's eyes sweep left, away from him, and then right, towards him. The air stills for a moment as their eyes lock.

Danny grins toothily at him, lopsided and playful in nature, and sees the moment Jason processes the sight before him. His arm starts slipping out of Sam's at the same time as an ecstatic smile stretches across Jason's face.

His lopsided grin fills out on the other end. "DANNY!" Jason yells, cutting off whatever Bruce Wayne and startling everyone within earshot. There's barely a moment for Bruce to look down when Jason shoves past him and runs at Danny.

Danny yanks his arm out of Sam's, "JASON!" He yells with just as much enthusiasm, and Jason nearly topples them right over when he collides with Danny. His arms wrap around Danny's shoulders, holding onto him tightly, and they're both laughing, spinning around like tops out of joy.

"You didn't tell me you were coming!" Jason cries, sounding accusing. Danny hugs him just as tightly, and laughs when Jason pulls away momentarily to punch his shoulder.

"I wanted it to be a surprise!" He defends, laughing between words as their spinning comes to a stop. They're both reluctant to pull apart, but they do and clutch the sleeves of their elbows tightly. "How could my best friend be adopted by the Bruce Wayne and have me not come confirm it with my own two eyes?"

"I sent you newspaper clippings!" Jason says, narrowing his eyes while his smile betrays his face. Danny quietly notices that his Gotham street accent is faded slightly.

"Oh that's what it was?" Danny's grin turns again, edging into a smirk. He feigns innocence, "I thought that was fire kindling." He has the newspaper clippings hung on the corkboard in his room, proud beyond words about his best friend.

Jason punches him in the shoulder again, hard enough to leave a bruise. "You jackass." He says, ignoring Danny's laughter even when he's holding back his own.

There's a soft, sharp clearing of someone's throat, breaking their attentions away from each other to the one that made the noise.

Bruce Wayne was a tall man, taller than Danny expected, and he looks exactly like his billboards. If less promiscuous than his perfume ads. Danny expects him to be upset with them both for disrupting his pretty rich gala, but instead he just looks gently amused, with an arched eyebrow. Overall though, he just looks fond.

Danny would be the first to admit that Bruce had taken in Jason as a charity case, something to fill the void after his other kid Dick Grayson finally moved out. But Danny’s a good judge of character — or he likes to assume he is — and those are not the eyes of a man who would take Jason in as a charity case. Those are the eyes of a man who actually, genuinely, cares about one Jason Todd.

The wriggly protective thing settles in his chest.

He doesn’t let go of Jason, but he does twist his smile into something a little more polite. Mister Wayne’s eyebrow arches higher, and he turns his blue-blue eyes onto Jason. “Who’s this, Jason?” He has that fancy Gotham Elite accent -- something that sounds like a mix between old transatlantic and faintly British -- that Danny's only heard in passing when he and Jason snuck up to the nicer parts of Gotham.

Jason stares at Mister Wayne, his grip on Danny tightens as his eyes flick to the other onlookers in the room. “This is Danny, B.” He says once his eyes turn back to Mister Wayne. “We grew up in Crime Alley together, he moved to Illinois last year."

Danny can see the uncomfortable expressions cross every rich person's face, murmurs sweeping across the room as soon their uncomfortable gazes turned judgmental and flinty. He's kept track of the tabloids after Jason's adoption, the ones calling him a charity case and looking down on him for being a street kid.

He inches a little closer to Jason, straightening up instinctively, as if they were back in Crime Alley and facing a pack of kids that didn't like them. He can see Sam's surprised expression from the corner of his eye -- he never told Tucker or Sam about where he grew up, although he's sure they had their suspicions.

He looks back to Mister Wayne and meets his blue-blue eyes, his smile has slowly begun to fade. Mister Wayne doesn't miss a beat however, and his smile stays plastered to his face. If anything, it gets a little softer, a little wider. "It's nice to meet you Danny -- Daniel? I'm so glad that Jason has a friend here." He holds out a hand.

Danny eyes him unsurely, and then takes his hand. "It's jus' Danny, Mister Wayne." He says, some of his old accent slipping through as he shook his hand firmly. He would have done it harder, but this was Jason's new guardian, and from Jason's letters he didn't sound too bad. "It's, uh, nice to meet you too. Jason's told me lots about you."

Mister Wayne's brows jump momentarily, he looks intrigued. He looks between Danny and Jason, and claps his hands together softly. "Well, Jay, how would you like to stay with Danny for a while, hm? I'm sure you too have a lot to catch up on."

Hope simmers in Danny's heart, and he glances to Jason to see that same hope on his face. "Really?" He asks, and Mister Wayne nods with a laugh.

"Of course! How could I keep two friends apart? Go on ahead, chum. I'll come get you when the gala ends."

And just like that, Bruce Wayne leaves Jason with Danny, diving back into a conversation with one of the rich gothamites and taking the attention with it as if he were the sun and everyone else a planet orbiting him.

Danny and Jason share grins, and throw their arms around each other with laughter. Danny is on cloud nine, pressing his nose into Jason's shoulder and breathing him in, fingers digging into the back of his suit hard enough to leave wrinkles in his jacket.

Sam demands answers when they finally, for real this time, pull apart. Why didn't he tell her that he was friends with Jason Todd!? Danny slings his arm around Jason's shoulders and keeps him close, and tells her that it was because he wanted it to be a surprise.

Sam's parents have unreadable expressions on their faces, part greed -- Danny is their in to the elusive Bruce Wayne -- and part disdain -- a Gotham street rat. Danny ignores them, they're unimportant in the grand scheme of things.

He introduces Sam to Jason, and Jason to Sam. And off they go to a corner of the room near the buffet table where they can eat and shit talk everyone else in the room in peace.

At some point in the night Sam is called back to her parents to meet some other fancy rich kids her parents want her to get along with, and Danny and Jason go off to the west end balcony to avoid anyone who may try and approach the new Gotham ward.

Danny hops up onto the balcony railing, kicking his feet as Jason pulls a cigarette pack out of his inner jacket pocket, and grins. "Don't tell Bruce," he says, handing the box to Danny first. "He's been trying to get me to quit."

"Hah!" Danny takes one just as Jason slips out a lighter. "That sounds like Jazz. She's been trying to get me to stop since we moved to Amity." Granted, she's been trying ever since she found out before they moved, but now she was even more insistent. "She hasn't found my stash yet."

At the end of the night when the Mansons are leaving and Danny has to leave with them, he walks back to Mister Wayne with Jason to tell him that he's leaving. Mister Wayne mourns his going, and tells him that he's always able to come visit.

"Any friend of Jason's is always welcome to the manor." He says with a blinding grin, pulling Jason close to his side and squeezing him tight. Jason's nose scrunches up, but he doesn't push away.

It becomes a new routine for them. The Mansons are all too happy to bring him with to the Wayne Galas (of which they start receiving more invites to due to their connection with Danny) and Danny is all too happy to spend the evening with Jason again. No matter what, they always end up on the balcony at some point in the night.

And, eventually, Danny is invited to stay at Wayne Manor either for a weekend or for a break. He jumps at the chance when winter break rolls around and his parents start their debate over Santa Claus again.

Danny and Jason stay up late into the night talking or playing video games during their sleepovers, and in the warmer nights they climb out and onto the roof to stargaze. Danny points out constellations - - things he can find in neither Gotham or Amity -- and rambles on and on about space.

There are plenty of times during the Wayne Galas that the event gets attacked by a rogue. More often than he'd like he loses Jason in the crowd, and has later stopped Robin or Batman in his panic to find him.

The first time it happened, he was in tears with terror. He grabbed onto Batman's cape, stopping the man from going back in as he babbled that his Jason Todd was still inside, that he disappeared during the chaos and he couldn't find him. Batman took his hands and calmly told him that he'd find Jason for him, and that he was sure he was okay, but he needed to calm down.

He found Jason later once everything had calmed down, and he screamed at him for disappearing during a rogue attack, if he ever did it again he'll kill him. Then he cried.

The second time it happened, Danny didn't even realize that Jason was gone until everything was already over. They'd been separated before the attack happened. He stopped Robin and Batman before they could leave, trying to keep his breathing under control as he asked again, if they had seen Jason Todd.

"That- that asshole keeps fucking ditching me when these things happen." His voice has an embarrassing wobble in it. "Please-- please tell me you've seen him, that he's alright."

Robin this time steps up to reassure him, that Jason Todd was out of the building. He got him out. "He's probably looking for you too, uhhh..."

"Danny" Danny says, and eyes him up and down. "You're the new Robin right?"

Robin stilled up, and Danny could understand it a little. He'd seen the thoughts on the new Robin online. He wasn't very popular at first. Robin nods curtly, and Batman was shuffled a little closer to him, almost protectively.

Danny grins at him. "Cool." He says, "Me and Jay used to sneak out onto the rooftops sometimes to try and spot Batman and the first Robin, we made it a game." He holds out a fistbump, "Thanks for doing what you do, man. I might not live in Gotham anymore, but I mean it. You're a living legend."

Robin looks like there's something stuck in his throat, and after a beat he returns the fistbump tentatively. "Th- uh, thanks." He stumbles out awkwardly, and then turns away, "Me and B- uh, better go."

Before Danny could even respond, Robin already had his grapple in hand and was grappling away. "You too, Batman." Danny says before Batman can follow.

When Danny sees Jason after that, and weight lifts off his chest and he hits him in the arm again. And then complains that he should have gotten Batman and Robin's autograph, it would have been epic.

By the fifth time it happens, Danny is cussing up a storm when Robin saves him, cursing out Jason and claiming that he needs to put that boy on a fucking leash. "We're a duo!" He scowls when Robin gets him outside, "I got his back, he has mine! I can't have his back when he's got no back to fucking have."

The eighth time it happens, Danny gets held hostage by one of the henchmen. He's become a recognizable friend of the Waynes, and when the Waynes are nowhere to be found, then the next best thing was up to offer. Danny isn't even mad this time around -- just relieved that Jason was fucking off somewhere where he couldn't get hurt.

Robin, however, seemed furious when he arrived, and broke the hostager's jaw with a single flying kick to the face. Jason found him rapidly quick soon after the situation had settled, and apologized over and over again.

Danny slings an arm around his shoulder and laughs that it was fine, Robin saved the day! His legs were shaking with the worn off adrenaline, something he tried to hide from Jason. "I'm just glad it was me instead of you, Jay." He grins. Jason looks like he swallowed a toad.

Jason stops disappearing as often after that, sticking close to Danny's side until the attack was over.

When Danny is fourteen, Jason dies, and his world unravels.

He calls the manor on a late night in April after Jason had stopped responding to his texts. Danny knew that Jason was just recently in a fight with Bruce, but he knows that Bruce loves Jason. He would know where he is, right?

When he calls, Bruce answers with a hoarse "hello?" as if he'd been crying all day, and Danny's blood turns to ice. The anxiety he'd been feeling beforehand doubles in size, and he feels himself stammering.

"Mister- uh- Mister Wayne? Um, I'm calling because Jason--" he hears Bruce inhale sharply on the other line, and his anxiety skyrockets into fear. "--hasn't been answering any of my texts and- and I'm gettin' real worried."

There's silence on the other end, and Danny feels a rock forming in his throat, gross and heavy like he was on the verge of throwing up. "Mister- Bruce? Mister B?"

There's a shaky breath, and then Bruce's voice crackles through the phone. "Um-- Jason, he, he's--" there's a sound like rustling, "he's been killed."

Danny's vision whites out with skyrocketing terror, his mind skidding to a stop. His body rapidly grows hot, and then chills, like a blacksmith striking a heated weapon. "What?"

When the phone call ends, Danny screams himself hoarse. Jazz and his parents come running into his room, his parents equipped with ghost weapons. Instead, they find Danny curled up in his bed, sobbing hoarsely.

Danny almost -- almost -- refuses to attend the funeral, nearly paralyzed with grief. Jazz coaxes him to go, to find closure if anything else, and he drags himself out of bed to go.

He feels numb the entire time. It's closed casket, so he can't even see him for one last time before Jason is buried in the ground. He's silent, and if he think he looks bad, then Bruce looks even worse, like he hadn't slept since Jason died and worse.

Danny grabs his sleeve before he leaves, and when Bruce turns to him with a dull look in his once vibrant eyes, he clings to him tightly. And cries. Bruce clings back just as tight, Danny feels tears drip into his hair.

"Who did it." Danny whispers, voice too hurt to speak any louder, when he pulls back. His fingers curl around Bruce's jacket tightly, desperately. His eyes hurt with tears. "You said he was murdered, B. Please, who did it."

Bruce looks down at him, and for the first time it really does feel like he's looking down at him. His face is blank, and his eyes close in grief. There is no answer, a silent no.

Danny's face twists up all ugly like, and he shakes Bruce's jacket. "Bruce, please. Tell me who did it."

Bruce refuses, his face full of grief.

Danny never returns to Gotham.

Prior to Jason's death and post their reunion, Danny had slowly begun to improve in school. He started caring more, he was putting in more effort, he was doing his homework and was actually enjoying class. There was the bullying from Dash and the A-Listers, but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle, he was ignoring them for the most part.

Come Monday after the funeral, and Danny breaks Dash's nose when he starts up with his shit. He withdrew into himself, and it was like he was back to square one again, except this time it was much worse.

Everyone knew Danny was close friends with Jason Todd. So when news of his death finally reached the ears of Amity Park, the students of Casper High School kept their distance.

That following Friday, Danny dies in the portal and comes back. A month later he becomes Phantom, the ghost-fighting ghost. the ghost Phantom wears his hazmat suit partially undone, showing a tanktop he didn't wear in death under the initial suit while the sleeves are tied around his waist. Vicious, glowing lichtenburg scars travel up his arm and neck and torso, covering half of his face while a pair of scientist-like goggles covers his eyes. He's bitter and angry, showing off his death.

Look at me, Phantom's form says, I am a dead child. Look at me look at me look at me. Mourn me. I am a dead child. LOOK AT ME. MOURN ME.

A few weeks later he enters the ghost zone and realizes that he could find Jason. And he spends a weekend scouring the ghost zone for him. He finds Gotham in the zone, and rather than finding Jason, he finds Robin.

Danny didn't know he'd died. And he flies towards him, asks him if he's seen Jason, reveals that it's him, Danny Fenton. Robin stares at him, mouth agape, and peels off his mask to reveal Jason Todd.

They both cry, and when Danny tells him how he died, Jason looks pale in the face. "You didn't- you didn't kill yourself because of me, did you?"

Danny fervently denies it. No, no. He didn't, he didn't. It was an accident. Totally unrelated. But enough about that, what the hell happened? Bruce wouldn't tell him anything at the funeral.

Jason clams up, his ghostly face losing its color, and Danny curses himself. He tells Jason that he doesn't have to tell him, he doesn't have to say anything. They sit in silence.

"It was the Joker." Jason says.

That's all Danny needs to know. He nods quietly. 'I'll kill him.' He thinks to himself, a stubborn set in his jaw. "Okay."

It had always been a plan; a thought wriggling in the back of Danny's mind ever since Bruce told him that Jason had been killed.

Not died. Killed.

Danny wanted the fucker dead the moment he realized it. He just needed to know who did it. He thinks Bruce knew it too, could probably see it in his eyes the moment Danny asked him who did it. He isn't sure if he should hate Bruce more for keeping it from him now.

They spend hours together, just soaking in each other's presence. Danny tries to take him through the ghost portal, to bring him back to the land of the living. But much like Kitty, Jason's form is tied to the zone. Danny promises to visit every day.

And he does. Or he tries to. The grief doesn't go away, but with the comfort of knowing that Jason was on the other side, Danny feels a little better. He tells Jason about being Phantom, and Jason helps train him. It feels like they're kids again and are fighting just because they want to. Its a bout of familiarity in a place that feels unfamiliar. All they need are cigarettes.

And then six months later he loses him again. Danny scours the ghost zone for him for the second time, and this time he doesn't find him.

His haunt is still in the zone though. He didn't move on. He's still here, somewhere.

Danny is convinced that Jason was in the Elsewhereness, and looks for him in between ghost fights and his social life. He visits Jason's haunt every day, knowing that Jason should be able to feel when another ghost enters his home. He does not show up.

(He never thinks that Jason came back to life, and Jason doesn't remember his time in the ghost zone)

When Danny is nineteen, Vlad Masters blackmails him into going to another Wayne Gala. Begrudgingly, Danny goes. He's taller than he used to be, having inherited his dad's monstrous height and his mom's leanness. He has piercings, some of them he got after a lost bet from Sam and Tucker, and he's given himself an undercut.

He still prefers vests over suit jackets, and he still smokes. A little less than before, he sneaks a pack into his pocket before he leaves, along with a lighter. Vlad gives him a dirty look the whole time - he knows.

"Don't give me that look." "That stuff kills, you know" "I'm already dead."

It's like deja vu when he arrives; an awful bout of deja vu, that is. The paparazzi is still as bright and loud and annoying as it always was, and they don't recognize him at all. Something he thinks of as a soft mercy up until one of the reporters asks Vlad who he is.

Vlad smiles and tugs Danny into the camera frame, "Why, this is my godson!" He crows, and shoots Danny a look that is downright smug I'm sure many of you may know him as Daniel Fenton?"

If looks could kill, Vlad would be ash. Danny isn't quite sure why he still agreed to this -- blackmail or no. He felt itchy being in Gotham; jumpy. He's never forgotten his vow to kill the Joker, in fact it was something he still desperately wants.

But the threat of Rath, the name he chose for his evil future self, haunts him just as much as his murderous intent. If he kills the Joker, would he stop?

Danny's almost afraid of what he'll do if he ever lays eyes on the Joker in person. He doesn't think he'll be able to stop himself from wrapping his hands around that stupid clown's neck and watching the light leave his eyes.

He pushes the thoughts to the side, and smiles lopsidedly as cameras and microphones flood his face, reporters yelling over themselves as they clamor to get a shot of the old Wayne family friend.

Danny turns and walks inside without answering a single question, flexing his fingers in and out of fists. Vlad gracefully hurries after him, and Danny can hear his glare burning into his back.

"You told me to come," Danny hisses to him once he's beside him, meeting Vlad's gaze piercingly, "not that I should play nice."

"Don't embarrass me, Daniel." Vlad hisses back, trying to look the upmost calm as eyes turn onto them. "I'll make you regret it."

"You embarrass yourself, fruitloop." Danny shoots back, walking away before Vlad could get a retort in. He sees Bruce Wayne on the other side of the room.

His heart seizes with nostalgia. He hasn't seen Bruce since Jason's funeral, hasn't spoken to him either. He doesn't know how to feel about him, but he'd been keeping tabs on Bruce both as himself and as Batman.

Danny's feet carry him forwards before he can think about it, silently weaving between the throng of rich people vying for his attention. It's only when he gets closer does he see the little shadow clinging to his side: Damian Wayne.

The newest little bird, Danny realizes, and stifles a smile at the surly expression on Damian's face as two older women coo over him. He reminded him of Sam, who had long since stopped coming to these things the moment she was able to.

The feeling of eyes on him turns Danny's attention away from Damian, and instead finds them back on Bruce's, who stares at him with a little furrow between his brows. As if he recognized him, but he wasn't sure from there.

Danny grins crookedly the moment he's within earshot. "Mister B!" He exclaims, slipping into what remained of his Gotham street accent. Recognition flashed in Bruce's eyes, and the man smiled widely. "Long time no see, old man."

"Danny," Bruce says, his name breathing out like relief. He slips between the crowd surrounding him -- who are now watching Danny -- and pulls Danny into a close hug. "It's good to see you again."

Danny hesitates for a moment -- he wasn't expecting Bruce to hug him -- and returns the gesture. "It's good to see you too, Bruce." He admits. Bruce was still using the same cologne that he did when Danny was a kid. He blinks heavily.

He pulls away quickly, clapping Bruce lightly on the shoulder as Damian quickly latches onto his father's side again. Damian glares daggers at him, fingers digging into Bruce's pantlegs like a possessive little kid.

He made Danny's ghost sense tingle in the back of his throat, creeping up slowly like a spider before stopping suddenly before it reached his mouth. It hummed, and then disappeared.

Danny smothered a frown. Since when did Batman work with ectoplasm? “This must be Damian." He says to Bruce, and holds out a hand to Damian -- he doesn't crouch, he had a feeling that Damian would be less than appreciative if he did that. "You've really expanded the nest since the last time I saw you."

Damian's eyes narrow at him. Bruce laughs lightly, "Ah yes, Tim is around here somewhere. I'm sure you'll see him soon."

"Father," Damian says, his voice layered with an accent. He glares up at Danny with piercing green eyes. "How do you know this man?" He sounds distrustful, Danny respects that and drops his hand.

"This is Danny Fenton." Bruce says, and Danny lets him introduce him. "He was Jason's friend."

An expression similar to bewilderment flashes briefly over Damian's face, and he eyes Danny in disbelief. "Todd had friends?"

Oh. So that's how he wanted to be. Bruce had a little elitist on his hands. Danny's smile drops like a deadweight, and any lingering endearment he had hardens like ice in his chest, fury slowly taking its place like a flickering candlelight. "It's not polite to speak ill of the dead, Mister Wayne." He says coldly, his voice made of chips of ice.

Damian blinks, the disbelief disappearing from his face. The closest thing to a recoil Danny thinks he's going to get. He doesn't care. No one speaks about his best friend that way.

"I grew up with Jason, actually." He continues, breathing in slow and deep, trying to keep the ghostly possessive-protective-rage under control. "I was his best friend."

He turns, almost robotically, towards Bruce, and tries not to look so angry. "I'm going to go find Tim, Mister B." He says, and tries to offer up a weak smile for the man. It comes out as a grimace instead.

"And..." he pauses, flicks his eyes towards Damian, and then looks at Bruce. "I'll... try and keep in contact, B. Tell Dick I said hi, alright? I'll see you in a little bit."

Bruce nods, looking vaguely disappointed and sighing slow through his nose. Danny walks away as Bruce turns to address his youngest, and doesn't bother listening in on what he has to say.

He does, eventually, find Tim Drake. He spots him in a crowd instantly - it's hard not to, and he makes his way over to him. He's not sure Tim Drake would recognize him, Bruce didn't at first and Danny had been around him constantly.

Except Tim Drake does recognize him, much to Danny's surprise. They lock eyes and Tim immediately makes his way over to him. "Danny Fenton!" He says and stops in front of him, "What a surprise, we weren't expecting you tonight."

"Tim Drake," Danny replies, smiling a little as his earlier hurt begins to fade away. "I'm surprised you know me."

"There are pictures of you in the manor with Jason." Tim explains, stuffing his hands into his pockets with an easy-going smile. "It's hard not to know you."

"It’s hard not to know you too,” Danny retorts, a sly smile slowly spreading across his face. “Although you’re a lot taller than you used to be, when you were lurking around Bruce and Jason and I.”

Ohhh Danny recognizes him alright. One part due to all the news articles and tabloids on him after he was adopted by Bruce, and the other part because he remembers the little shadow lurking near plants pots and table legs that used to follow him and Jason around at galas just like these.

Knowing that Jason was Robin, he wonders if Jason knew he was there too.

The effect is immediate: Tim’s eyes grow comically large, and a red tint glows at the tip of his ears as he shrinks back like a turtle trying to hide into its shell. “You— you noticed that!?” He hisses.

“I did!” Danny grins, large and wide, stifling a laugh as the red tint spreads over Tim’s cheeks and nose. He looks mortified. Danny coos. “Aww, I thought it was adorable that Jason had a little shadow. I’m sure he would have loved you if you had just come over and said hi. He had a big soft spot for kids.”

Tim snorts and it— it almost sounds derisive? “Sure he would.” He looks sad, and the mirth in Danny’s chest shrivels up like a flower without light. The smile fades from his face, and all that’s left is a strange, staunch reminder that Danny and Bruce weren’t the only ones that probably mourned.

He touches Tim’s shoulder lightly, “Hey, I’m sorry.” He says, trying to look as apologetic as he feels. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I’m sorry, I miss him too.” Like a fucking limb he missed him.

There’s something that flickers in Tim’s eyes, passing through too fast for Danny to realize what it is. He assumes its gratefulness, because Tim relaxes a little and offers him a weak little smile. “I wish I had talked to him.”

Danny sees an out and takes it, he forces out a short laugh, grinning widely. “I can tell you all about him if you’d like,” he offers, “I told Mister B I’d keep in touch anyways. I’ve missed him and Alfred quite a lot in the last few years.”

“Not Dick?”

“That dipstick wasn’t around often enough for me to form any sort of emotional attachment to him.” Danny says in a half-complaining tone, placing his hands on his hips. “Although I did like his puns.”

Tim snickers, “I’ll tell him you said that then. Nobody likes his puns.”

“Go on ahead,” Danny grins, laughter swirling in his chest and making his core thrum with warmth. Damn, he’s missed this family. “I stand by my decision. Puns are funny.”

“Let’s get a photo then.” Tim says with a hand already fishing in his pocket for his phone. “He’ll be devastated to know that you were here and he didn’t get to see you.”

“Sure.” And Danny sidles on next to Tim, throwing an arm around his shoulders — and making a noise of surprise when his arm was able to fit comfortably — as if he was just resting it on a counter.

He totally forgot how tall he was compared to Tim. Forgot that he’d been looking down the entire time they’d been talking. “Why’d I get my dad’s height.” He complains, and bends his knees as Tim raises the phone with the front-facing camera on.

Tim snickers under his breath, and takes the picture while they’re both smiling wide. Danny immediately stands up, and peers over Tim’s shoulders to look at the picture.

It’s a good one, with the fringe of Danny’s curls falling slightly over his left eye and making the dimple on his right cheek more prominent. He could see the barely-there smattering of freckles he had across his nose, the ones that became more prominent when the sun was out. His smile was lopsided, Danny’s favorite kind of smile.

He whistles lowly, “That’s a good one,” he says aloud, and smiles impishly at Tim when he looks at him. “You should send that one, I look hot in it.”

Tim snorts, his ears reddening as he looks down at his phone. “Yeah sure, no problem.” He says quickly, and Danny looks away when he pulls up the messenger app. He’s never felt comfortable looking over people’s shoulders when they were on their phone.

“I’m gonna go take a smoke break.” He shoves his hands into his pockets and curls his fingers around the box and lighter inside. “I’ll—“

“Be on the west-end balcony.” Tim finishes, the red in his ears darkening as he glances up from his phone to smile embarrassedly. “I know.”

Danny snorts, “Okay.” His voice is thick with amusement. “Let me know how Dipstick reacts, alright?” He backs up slowly, awaiting Tim’s response. Tim merely waves a hand at him, a weak gesture of “yeah yeah” that makes Danny grin before he flips around and marches towards his favorite smoking balcony.

———————

(Tim pulls up the family group chat and loads the selfie into the text bar. His face feels warm with embarrassment even as his thumbs fly across the screen.

Tim: look who i found at the latest charity gala :) [image]

Hee awaits eagerly a response, and finds he doesn’t have to wait long. Dick’s thought bubble appears on screen, then Cass’s — of which it only exists for a moment before disappearing.

Dick: holy shit, is that who i think it is?

Tim responds quickly, and his message sends.

Tim: yep. He wanted me to tell you that he thinks your jokes are funny.

Dick: they are funny

Tim rolls his eyes and thinks for a moment, really thinks. He weighs his pros and cons. And then his fingers fly across the screen again.

Tim: hey Jason are you not gonna say anything?

There’s no response for all of thirty seconds — of which it stretches on to an uncomfortably long minute — and then Jason’s thought bubble appears.

Jason: what do i have to say to a bunch of idiots blowing up my phone in the middle of patrol?

Tim: harsh. do you recognize the guy in the photo?

Jason’s response is instant. Too fast for him to have actually looked at the photo itself. He’s just trying to spite Tim then. Tim doesn’t care, he has the upper hand here

Jason: no and I don’t care, i have patrol

Tim knows he didn’t look at the photo, and yet he can’t help stifle a shit-eating smile and feign innocence

Tim: really? You and Danny used to be so close, color me surprised

His teeth dig into his lower lip, he doesn’t need to in order to hide a smile. But it gives him something to do. Jason is worryingly silent for a long, long time, and Tim can almost imagine him staring long and hard at the selfie. Tim knows he will be later.

Finally, Jason’s text bubble shows up. It exists for a long time, before finally Tim’s phone buzzes with his message alert.

Jason: that’s danny?

Tim feels all too gleeful. Smugness swirling in his chest like kicked up sand as he types his response: yep! Apparently he showed up today, although I’m not sure with who since I don’t see Miss Manson around here.

Damian: Father says to get off your phone, Drake. We are at a Gala and your behavior is most unbecoming

Tim: can it demon spawn, I was just telling Jason that his friend Danny is here

Damian: He can’t be too important if he doesn’t even know Todd is alive

Tim: how would you know that?

Damian: When Father introduced him as Todd’s friend, I expressed my surprise that Todd even had friends, considering how unpleasant he can be. Fenton became quite cross with me after that and quickly excused himself thereafter

Dick: you said what!? Damian that’s not okay

Damian: Father made that quite clear after Fenton left in a huff. My mistake for thinking that Todd had told his ‘supposed best friend’ that he was alive.

Dick: he didn’t even tell us we were alive at first

Damian: He did eventually, didn’t he? Clearly Todd doesn’t seem to care too much about Fenton if he hasn’t even informed him of his being alive at this point.

Jason’s thought bubble quickly pops up, and then dissipates, then pops up again. Tim quickly pockets his phone before he can see Jason’s response. He doesn’t feel smug anymore, just uncomfortable.)

———————

Stepping out onto the west-end balcony feels like a blast from the past. A painful one at that. Danny’s fingers dig into his cigarette pack, and he pulls it out with a sense of bittersweet familiarity.

It feels like a lifetime ago that he once stood here with Jason. The package clunks dully as his fingers scrape against the side, and he fishes a cigarette out of the box before stuffing it back into his pocket.

“Quite the night isn’t it.” He says to nothing, to ghosts of the past, to himself. He turns and sits on the railing, sticking his legs out like a tripping hazard while Gotham’s hot city wind blows through the air.

He looks up and only sees the ugly pollution yellow sky looking down at him. It’s an unfamiliar feeling to him. He loves the stars and yet when faced with a smog that covers it, he feels more at home.

Danny’s fingers find the lighter, and with a few clicks a small open flame appears in existence. There’s a poem here, he can feel it. But he feels too tired to find it.

The cigarette lights, and the lighter dies in response. Returning back to his coffin-like pocket until he needs to use it again. He pulls a leg up, resting his chin on his knee with a heavy, tired sigh.

He soaks in the sounds around him. The ugly city warmth nips at his jaw. The music inside is muffled by the force of two glass doors and walls on all four sides, and Danny can hear late night traffic coming by on the road nearby. It’s a special kind of ambience you can only find on the west end balcony.

Half a decade ago, Danny had played a part with that ambience with Jason. Now it was just him, and Jason was nowhere to be found. It left a hopeless kind of feeling in his chest. An all-suffocating kind of fear that filled him head to toe with an intensity only ghosts could have.

His body winds up like a spring, and Danny holds his breath. When he exhales two minutes later, the spring stutters and jolts, and his body relaxes with a tremble.

He misses Jason. He misses Jason.

Ghosts are emotional creatures. They feel it from their crown to their soles. And emotional wounds never really heal. They scab over and fester, waiting to be picked at again and again so it can bleed as fresh as it did when it first opened.

Danny’s grief is never going to go away, he thinks. It’s clung to him like a parasite; shaped him and molded him. The wound was too close to him when he died, and now it will stay with him forever.

He opens his eyes when his ghost sense tingles, a heavy feeling in his throat that is neither nicotine nor grief. It’s just like Damian’s, but stronger. Potent. Older. It reaches the top of Danny’s throat and sits at the base of his tongue, like a hand about to suffocate him.

He looks up, cigarette hanging off his lips, and the Red Hood drops down beside him. He stands in the same spot Jason once did, and that alone makes the ghostly core in Danny seize possessively.

Don’t you dare stand where he stood, it hisses, coiling around his lungs like smog. Danny grits his teeth and feels his ghost sense evaporate. He pulls the cigarette out of his mouth, and nicotine smoke pours out like a cheap version of his ghost sense.

“Red Hood.” He says plainly, his free hand coiling and uncoiling like cat’s claws against the railing. “A surprise to see you here.”

Danny knows through process of elimination who most of the Gotham vigilantes are: Dick is Nightwing, Bruce is Batman, Tim is Red Robin, Damian is Robin, and Cass is Orphan. There are a few who he doesn’t know, however. Like Batgirl and Red Hood.

It’s fine, he doesn’t need to know. Danny of all people understands the importance of a secret identity.

Red Hood doesn’t say anything, just stares at him as if he’s a deer in headlights. His body all tensed up like he isn’t sure what to do now that he’s here in front of Danny. Like he wasn’t expecting Danny to be here at all.

Danny’s brows furrow. “Sorry, am I in your spot?” He asks, and begins to push off the railing. “I didn’t think vigilantes used the Wayne Hall west-end balcony, I can leave if you want.”

He’s already begun to move towards the door.

The Red Hood lurches in his spot, “No!” He yells, and Danny stops in place with raising eyebrows. Red Hood’s fingers cringe, and he straightens up.

He’s shorter than Danny, he notes. Which isn’t much of revelation. Everyone is shorter than Danny.

“No,” Red Hood repeats, sounding sturdier than before, “No. You’re fine. I’m just stopping here for a quick rest before resuming patrol.”

…Danny doesn’t question it. It’s none of his business about other vigilantes and their practices. He shrugs and breathes out more smoke, “Alright.” He says, and walks back over to the railing to sit on it. “I’m Danny, by the way.”

The Red Hood nods, and a silence falls over them. Danny doesn’t care enough to make it feel uncomfortable, but the Red Hood seems unsettled by something. Lost in thought. He leans his back against the railing similar to Danny, and then switches a few seconds later to a new pose.

He does it again, and again, and again. Until finally he flips over and leans his stomach against the railing, arms resting against it. It is starkly like what Jason used to do, and Danny stares at him long and hard.

He frowns. And says nothing.

When Danny’s cigarette is nothing more than a butt of nicotine, he crushes it in his hand and watches the ash flutter down to the ground. The heat stings his hand, but its nothing his ghostly healing can’t fix.

The Red Hood is already holding out another one when Danny’s hand drifts to his pocket for the box.

Danny stares at him, sudden wariness opening up like floodgates that sit at the bottom of his stomach.

His frown deepens, his eyes flicker up and down at Red Hood. His hands hover over his pocket. “I have my own.” He says, and watches subtly as the Red Hood hides a wilt. As if he’d been expecting Danny to take it.

“Alright.” The Red Hood says, trying to sound unbothered. He retracts the cigarette away from Danny, quiet all the way. He’s looking away.

Danny plucks the cigarette out of his hand, startling the Hood enough that Red snaps back to look at him. Danny yanks his lighter from his pocket. “I won’t say no to a free cigarette.” He says, slightly muffled with the stick between his teeth. It lights.

Silence falls over them again, and when one minute stretches into five, whatever hope that had been digging into the shoulders of Red Hood finally pulls away and leaves him slumping subtly.

‘A ciggie for your thoughts?’ Nine year old Jason Todd whispers one night with an impish grin, holding up a cigarette pinched between his two fingers. ‘I stole it from my old man. He won’t even notice its gone.’

Danny is halfway through it when he speaks. “The Joker killed my best friend.” He says, and watches from the corner of his eye as the Red Hood flinches. Is he startled by Danny speaking, or startled by the bluntness of him starting?

“He beat him to death.” Danny continues, staring stone-faced away from Red Hood. His grief claws up his lungs and burrows into his heart again. His fingers dig into the railing. “He beat my best friend to death.”

The Red Hood is silent, his body as still as the grave. Silence stretches out between them both, and like he’d been thinking, the Hood finally speaks: “How do you know?”

He’s not holding the cigarette, he broke his and Jason’s rule. Danny bounces the stick between his fingers. “His ghost told me.” He says, taking a trembling breath. “His ghost told me so, before he disappeared.”

The Red Hood says nothing, and Danny gathers his thoughts. The ones that had been buried deep next to his core, shoved down ever since Danny learned of Rath and a terrible future where a world is destroyed by one ghost’s hands.

Danny has never said it out loud before. His face scrunches up briefly, and then smooths out when his eyes squeeze shut. “I’m going to kill him, Red Hood.” He murmurs when he opens his eyes, turning his face toward the vigilante. The sound is sucked out of the air.

The Red Hood stares at him, but he doesn’t say a word. Danny pushes on, teeth grinding into teeth as he flips his silvery scarred hand back and forth. Palm up, palm down. “It’s why I haven’t been back to Gotham in a while.” He admits, voice still quiet. “If I see the Joker I will kill him, and I won’t feel bad for it.”

“Not today though,” he says, and closes his hand, “today I’m here on a favor to Vlad Masters. Then after this I’ll go visit my friend. I need to apologize for not seeing his grave in a while. I’ll have to stop by a florist to see if they have any zinnias. Jay likes those.”

He takes out the cigarette in his mouth and breathes out one last cloud of smoke. And then he crushes the cigarette stick under his foot and walks back inside.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Bro... how would Stanley/Stanford deal with their s/o (y/n) having a stalker? (As someone who has been a victim of stalking, it's terrifying)

They are afraid to go outside to do things such as check the mail, gets harassed online through text/emails, and overall just terrified 24/7, constantly paranoid with the fear of the worst happening to them if they let their guard down :(

Stan will wholeheartedly stay with you, just so he could use Ford’s crossbow because how dare some creepy fuck make you feel unsafe inside and outside the house.

He’ll fist fight them if he must, also he’ll use this as an excuse to teach you kickboxing.

If he ever find out where this stalker lives, best believe that he’ll make sure they’ll be the one scared to come out of their one house by sending letters depicting threats of what he’d do should they step a toe out of their own home, and it’s in excruciating detail.

However if the stalker try to send the letter into the police, the police can’t seem to trace who sent the letter…Stan is too good at what he does it’s almost terrifying but it works out for you as the stalker is scared as shit that someone will set throw a Molotov cocktail at them while getting the mail…or depants them when they least expect it.

‘Don’t you think this is a bit much?’ You asked.

‘Where they’re threatening my baby? Never, I could’ve done way worse for you.’ Stan said as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, keeping you close to his side as you both snuggled up together while watching television, feeling the safest you ever been in a long while.

Stan then proceeds to run the bastard over in his car ❤️

Ford will probably have some sort of surveillance cameras set up that he would check now and then for any and all abnormal activity regarding your stalker.

He doesn’t take this kindly as Bill had a tendency to watch him closely, so much so to the point that every time he was out in the woods he felts as though he was being watched, surveyed and observed like he was nothing sort of a experiment.

Gives you his crossbow to shot the bastard between the eyes because the was legal right? Well it is in certain dimensions and he’ll be damned if he didn’t give you something to protect yourself with if something bad were to happen.

He doesn’t trust the police, he thinks their incompetent and can’t do their jobs for shit. So he’ll take justice into his own hands by digging up as much dirt as he could on the person by enlisting some help from his most trusted friends.

But most importantly Ford makes sure you’re okay, makes you reassured and doesn’t make you feel shit for feeling like you were being watched, stalked and harassed online by someone who doesn’t know their boundaries. He’s still recovering rom his own experience with a psychopath (bill), and will make sure that you learn to heal and move on together by being a constant and reassuring presence within your life. A positive force that kept you safe and made sure you were okay at the beginning and end of every day.

He wants you to live your life freely, not scared of the outside.

If he sees that your being harassed online, Ford will make sure that the stalkers details are leaked to the public by whatever means necessary along with the creepy tendencies they have been known for but punished far too lightly for by the system that protects these creeps.

(Ford may sick the gnomes on the twat, claiming he had found them the perfect gnome royalty for them and see how they like it.)

[19catsncounting]

I Got Really Into Anti/Proship Discourse And Read +30 Academic Studies - My Findings

(It’s a Yapfest but the whole post is a very long essay and study on morality and fiction and children’s safety and rape culture with a fuckton of freely accessible academic articles and resources on the subject, and I want to talk to other people about it. For a shorter abstract with all the articles and more easily ignored yapping, see my shiny new Carrd:)

It’s been a little shocking lately to have certain discussions with some parts of fandom. I spoke about shipping/harassment and how that contributes to the death of fandom on TikTok assuming that younger folks are just really, really intense about preventing sexual violence, but the more I saw the words “morally wrong” and “disgusting” and “addiction,” the more I thought about this guy-

That’s Jerry Falwell, and I fucking hate this dead guy. You see, Jerry Falwell was a preacher who hated porn, feminism, and homosexuality. And I'm seeing his rhetoric and reworked quotes a lot.

Jerry would say stuff like:

“Pornography hurts anyone who reads it - garbage in, garbage out.”

“Someone must not be afraid to say ‘moral perversion is wrong.’ If we do not act now, homosexuals will ‘own’ America!”

Jerry wanted people to believe that it’s possible to see so much sexual content that it warps your sexuality, because he was gay and wanted to think that was due to thinking about gay sex too much. Jerry did not have a lot of evidence to prove that homosexuality was harmful, so he relied heavily on how “morally distasteful” it seemed to be to suburban Americans.

I spent the majority of my teen years arguing against Jerry’s rhetoric for the right to live as a lesbian online, and I never thought I’d see morality rhetoric in people I’m otherwise very politically aligned with. And I definitely never thought fandom of all things, in all its beautiful subversive glory, would seriously start advocating for censorship, anti-porn, and to consume fanwork with moral purity.

So, I’d like to have a deeper discussion on it, both here on Tumblr and on TikTok, but that does mean checking a few things at the door:

Personal feelings decide your personal life. What you feel is valid for you, not anyone else.

In general, things that do not cause direct and undeniable harm should not be broadly prohibited just because they’re weird or distasteful to the majority of folks. Ex. Loitering does not cause harm and is a tool of systemic oppression.

The discussion of “fictional CSEM” is the most inflammatory fork of this and it is often used to derail these kinds of conversations. This is all I will say on it - the legal status of explicit visual depictions of minors is muddy. In the US, there is just one dude in Utah who pled guilty for possessing explicit lolicon he bought by mail order without also possessing CSEM with real children, and explicit writing about fictional minors has been settled as protected free speech. Dedicated organizations from the NCMEC to Chris Hansen have asked that fictional content is not reported as CSAM as it is not actionable and clogs up finite resources. 90% of NCMEC reports were not actionable last year. There are studies suggesting that virtual CSEM or other non-victim alternatives could reduce actual child harm, but there is need for further research.

We’re all in agreement that untagged NSFW is not cool, and kids deserve kid-only sections of the internet. People who are triggered by or dislike problematic content deserve to be able to not see it. 👍

 (I’ve seen the argument that blocking tags/people should not be required - sorry, PTSD still requires that you manage your triggers, up to and including swearing off platforms just as I have sworn off bars/soap brands/etc to avoid my triggers.)

I have found a lot of accessible and free articles and studies that I will link throughout so that we can discuss the fact-based reasoning, in an effort to have a civil conversation.

(Also because we are not flat earthers, we are Fandom, and if we’re going to be annoying little shitheels in an “Um Actually” contest, we’re going to have the sources to back it up.)

Minors and Explicit Material

I’m not supporting minors engaging with explicit material. I have such little interest in the subject that I’m not even going to bring in articles, but you can feel free to. I personally engaged with explicit material as a preteen of my own free will and did not find it to be harmful, and the majority of people throughout human history have been exposed to explicit material at an early age with varying degrees of harm. There are undeniable legal and harm-driven differences between a 12 year old girl looking at Hustler on her own, a 14 year old boy being sent nudes from a grown woman, and a 6 year old viewing PornHub. (And I think the guardians of that 6 year old should be charged with grooming just like the woman, tbh.)

Personal Disclaimer

I’m an adult survivor of CSA and incest. I’m a happily married adult. I don’t personally like lolicon/shotacon/kodocon. I don’t like kids. I don’t like teens. I’m personally not attracted to underage fictional characters. I have family, the idea of fucking any of them makes me want to throw up and die, so I don’t write or read RPF of my family.

I am really, really fucking intense about preventing sexual violence, supporting survivors, and fandom, which is where this all comes from.

I read and love problematic fiction - my favorites are ASOIAF, Lolita, and VC Andrews. The most “problematic” thing I’ve personally written are Lucifer/Michael fics from Supernatural back in 2012. They are “brothers” in CW Christ, not blood. They do not have any blood.

Gen Z and Online Grooming

In 2002, a survey of 1500 minors from 10-17 found that 4% had been solicited for sexual purposes by an adult online.

In 2023, that number increased to 20%.

While the linked 2023 Thorn report suggests that the vast majority of these inappropriate interactions happened on platforms that allow for interpersonal communication, which by and large minors were greatly discouraged from and had less access to in the early 2000’s, a trauma-informed approach does not allow for blame to fall on the children. The guardians of those children have monumentally failed to restrict and educate before giving children the means to access those platforms.

It is my uncited but personal opinion that the increased rate of grooming, as well as an increased interest in combating rape culture, has led to well-intentioned individuals to become digital vigilantes attacking those who they hold responsible for their traumatic experiences in a search for catharsis and justice denied for themselves as well as a desire to make the internet safer for other children, whom they are increasingly aware are entering online spaces unsupervised at distressingly young ages.

Is harassment and bullying bad for perpetrators of it?

Before we get into how ship-related hate campaigns do not affect predation or combat rape culture, we should acknowledge that it’s actually pretty harmful for the people who cyberbully. Not just in the legal/social consequences, but people who participate in cyberbullying and cyberhate campaigns have higher rates of depression, estrangement from their parents, self-effacing habits, social anxiety, lower empathy, and so forth.

One study suggests that the treatment and prohibitive for cyberbullying, which contributes to a culture of cyberhate and a lower likelihood to report or confront other incidents of harassment or toxicity online, can be combatted with media competency to increase empathy along with other important life skills.

Some Common Pro-Censorship Myths

“Pornography is Addictive/Consumption of Pornography Leads to Increasingly Hardcore Imagery And Ultimately Real-World Violence” - The American Psychological Association does not recognize Porn Addiction as real and the DSM-5 does not classify it as an addiction. Additionally, many methods used in articles claiming that porn is addictive or causes users to seek out more hardcore material were flawed or biased. There is actually some evidence that compulsive porn use, the closest you can get to a porn addiction diagnosis, is associated with shame and the user’s belief that pornography is morally wrong, which sex-negative attitudes encourage.

“Jaws caused shark culling” - That's unfortunately a simplification that ignores a LOT of surrounding context. WW2’s modern naval battles with an increase of ship sinkings and thus contact with sharks prompted the invention and use of shark repellant by aviators and sailors in the 1940’s. The most deadly and famous shark attack of all time was the USS Indianapolis sinking in 1945, which led to 12-150 deaths. The 1974 book Jaws by Peter Benchley, which was the entire basis of the movie, was inspired by One Fucking Dude who started shark hunting tours and overall seemed to have a really immaculate vibe. The interstate highways that finished in the 1950’s increased beach tourism in the 60’s and onwards, inspiring the American surf culture, further increasing the cultural desire to purge sharks for the new swath of beachgoers and their fondness for using surfboards which make them look like seals to sharks. Additionally, 1975’s Jaws inspired a huge desire for education about sharks, and the relationship between problematic media and education will be the core of this yapperoni pizza.

“The Slendermen Killings/Other Fiction Inspired Crimes” - The ACLU states that “There is no evidence that fiction has ever driven a sane person to violence.” Inspired crimes are indeed no less tragic, and thankfully rare, but people who suffer from inability to discern reality and fiction do not necessarily need fiction to commit violence. The “Son of Sam” murder spree was not inspired by a book or movie, but instead Berkowitz’ auditory hallucinations.

“Violent videogames DO cause violence” - After a great deal of funding and study, the American Psychological Association has concluded that teens and younger may have increased feelings of aggression and not necessarily physically violent outbursts as a direct effect, but older teens and young adults do not encounter statistically meaningful rates of aggression.

“Your brain can’t tell the difference between fiction and reality” - Factually incorrect. Children as young as 5 years old can tell the difference, and they can even be more suspicious about “facts” that come from sources they know also host fiction, such as TV shows.

“This stuff shouldn’t be online because it can be used to groom a child” - While I could not find specific statistics on how often pornography is used to desensitize child victims, nor how often that is specifically used in online grooming, and especially not how much of that pornography is made from fictional characters - out of a mixed group of convicted offenders with adult and child victims, 55% of offenders used pornography to manipulate their victim. I would never refute that explicit fanart or fanfic could be used to desensitize a child, but that is by far not the only tool (asking about sexual experiences/identity, making jokes, etc is extremely common grooming behavior), and there is no evidence to suggest that it is used to a statistically significant degree. In my own anecdotal experience, normal vanilla legal pornography is used with far greater prevalence, and there isn’t a similar movement to shame its production for that possibility. Nor should the creators of any material, pornographic or otherwise, share blame in the actions of a predator.

The Fiction Affects Reality Carrd

(No hate to the person who made it, in fact I give props to them for trying to find unbiased sources, I just want to point out that their interpretations of their articles are kinda flawed and one of their studies is a kind of a perfect example on small and culturally biased samples.)

Reading Fiction Impacts Aggressive Behavior - (I cannot access the full study but this article is the primary source used in the Carrd and it goes into detail) - A study showed that 67 university students were more annoyed with a loud buzzer after reading a short story about a physical fight between roommates compared to a story with nonviolent revenge. However, this study was conducted at Brigham Young University, the same campus where we got a whole video series of hot ethical takes like “I’d rather shoot a kitten than drink coffee,” so uh. Yeah. Kind of a prime example on why it’s important to have large and culturally varied sampling. (Another BYU study with 137 BYU students being odd about moral ambiguity in fiction, just because I’m starting to add Dr. Sarah M. Coyne to my list of “Sarah’s That I Dislike.”)

Your Brain on Fiction - a NYT article that describes Theory of the Mind and how fMRIs captured how readers’ minds would light up centers of muscle control when reading sentences like “Peter kicked.” The quote “The brain, it seems, does not make much of a distinction between reading about an experience and encountering it in real life; in each case, the same neurological regions are stimulated” is speaking of motor functions. Emotional centers of the brain were not included in the study.

How Fiction Changes Your World - a Boston Globe article that actually describes how people who read more fiction are more empathetic and tend to believe in a just world. It does not state that the empathy a reader feels for fictional characters extends to corrupting their moral compass. In fact, there’s such a thing as a “fictive license” to explore taboo themes more thoroughly because it is not real - 123 participants were interviewed after watching two actors play the part of detective and murderer being interviewed, and participants who were told it was fake had more varied and inquisitive responses.

The Social Impact of Books - Actually reuses the previous study about the just world, so point remains. Empathy is understanding, not mirroring.

Is Problematic Fiction Good for Survivors of Trauma?

It absolutely depends on the individual.

Writing expressively about traumatic experiences has been shown to be effective to reduce depression, or more effective in reducing dysphoria and anxiety than talking to fellow survivors, and Written Exposure Therapy is broadly prescribed to survivors of trauma, with one study centering on car crash survivors finding that WET resolved their PTSD symptoms and continued to be effective after a year.

In this study, which sadly is not available online but it is too important to leave out completely, survivors of CSA were given fictional novels about CSA and in closely reading and analyzing those stories, were able to understand their own experiences and were indeed drawn to write about their own experiences as well.

Engaging in problematic fiction, like all fiction, allows for consent as well as control. If at any point a survivor does not feel in control or wishes to stop, they can at that instant. They can even rewrite their narratives and take control of their story in fictionalizing and changing the account. They can even try to understand what their abuser felt through fiction, which is helpful considering that the vast majority of survivors had a relationship that had been positive and even loving with their abusers at times.

Is Problematic Fiction Good for Everyone Else?

It again depends on the individual.

Antis might be a little right that most people don't want to read problematic stories. In a study exploring whether fiction can corrode morals, 83% of study participants stated that they would prefer not to read a short story justifying baby murder if they had the choice, even if that exploration isn’t inherently harmful.

This very small sample study of 13 participants discussed how young women interpreted sexual themes in writing, including explicit fanfiction, and how that was beneficial and informative to explore sexual desire and examine healthy and unhealthy relationships in a safe and controlled environment.

This meta-analysis further discusses how problematic and sexual themes in YA literature are useful to illustrate what sexual violence looks like, and begin educational conversations through those depictions to break down harmful myths such as “if she didn’t scream, she wanted it.”

Empowered by the “Fictive License” previously cited, problematic fiction can be beneficial for anyone who desires and is capable of consuming and analyzing it.

This study analyzing abusive aspects of three films - Beauty and the Beast, Twilight, and 50 Shades of Gray - concluded that these abusive themes should be discussed to increase recognition and awareness, not censored based on those problematic themes.

This study of 53 women were asked to read different versions of fictional intimate partner violence flags, or “toxic behavior” like surveillance, control, etc. In every version of the story, whether the female or male had those behaviors either courting or committed, the women recognized the behavior as wrong.

Another study that reading allows for the moral laboratory to explore morality in fiction without decisive impact to corroding moral permissibility.

Is There Ever Any Point Where Fictional Interests Definitively Speak On Someone’s Morality?

In short - not really. Loving Jason Vorhees does not put you at risk of murdering campers as long as you know he’s not real. Writing Wincest does not mean you look forward to family reunions, as long as you know incest isn’t okay in the real world. The real world, where real people are harmed, is where you find the measure of someone’s character.

This Psychology Today article is the best source I could find for quotes from a fantastic book ‘Who's Been Sleeping in Your Head? The Secret World of Sexual Fantasies’ by Brett Kahr regarding taboo sexual fantasies and how they are not only common, but not inherently harmful.

There are people who enjoy problematic media in an entirely nonsexual sense, of course. I myself don’t get off on problematic media - I think it’s just interesting to explore different experiences, and I think that can be revolutionary.

Additionally, fantasies in general have almost always been in the vein of “things you don’t want to really happen in reality.” In a study of 351 asexuals, more than half reported that they fantasize about having sex, but that doesn’t mean that they actually want to. You can fantasize about dating Billie Eilish - it doesn’t mean that you’d be happy dealing with celebrity culture.

(I personally fantasize about the internet being just for adults, but in practice I think that would be incredibly harmful and isolating for at-risk youth and LGBTQ teens) Fantasies always pluck out only the bits of reality that you want to engage with.

If You Get Off On Fictional Kids, You’re Attracted to Something About Them Being Kids

Not inherently, surprisingly. Wearing a schoolgirl uniform is a pretty common roleplay, and it’s not meant to “fool” the participants into thinking they’re indulging in pedophilia. There’s a wealth of emotional and sexual nuance in that specific kink - innocence and virginity play, tilted power dynamics in ‘scolding’ the uniform wearer for dress code violations, even the concept of a sexually provocative “teenager” can be played with without shame, because the world of fetish and fantasy is separated from condonable actions for the vast, vast majority of adults. (The only study I could find on this is this small study of 100 white guys found on Facebook, which itself states it is not definitive, found that while there might be correlation between attraction to children and interest in schoolgirl uniforms, there is no proof of causation. AKA, the rectangular pedophile might indeed like square schoolgirl uniforms, but not everyone - in fact, the majority at nearly 60% in this very survey - that likes square schoolgirl uniforms is a rectangular pedophile.)

Even sexual age play between adults is not indicative of pedophilia because it exists in a setting between two adults who fully understand that the mechanics are completely fake, allowing the power dynamics that would be abusive between an adult and child to be ethically explored.

I don’t have an official-looking study to cite, but I have asked people who like content about underage fictional characters why they do so. Overwhelmingly, a lot of the ones who like underage age gaps like the fantasy of an older and more experienced character taking a younger one under their wing, to have the opportunity to commit violent and blatantly objectifying harm and yet try to create what inevitably does not truly pass as consent, but seems near enough to the characters. Some think that the characters themselves have an interesting chemistry. Some read underage fic and still imagine the characters as adults. Some like to explore the feelings of shame that the older character must feel and how they mentally compartmentalize to go forward with the relationship, and how the younger character found themself in that vulnerable position - which is exploring a harmful situation through fiction to understand how it could play out in real life.

People who like fictional incest like exploring the shameful components of that taboo relationship - and I have seen a lot of works that compare how bad incest could be to other harms, like the Gravecest route in a game with parental cannibalism. And then there are folks who like analyzing the codependency of having one person fulfill every social need - family, friend, lover, AKA Wincest.

What makes a predator if it’s not just sexual attraction?

90% of CSA survivors know their abuser, discrediting the still-entirely-too-popular Stranger Danger myth. And shockingly, only 50% of abusers are pedophiles.

That means 50% of child molesters do not have sexual interest in children because they are children, but they victimized children because they are more accessible in lieu of adult partners, with increased rates of incest.

While I could not find a specific study on the relation between dehumanization/objectification of child victims and child molesters (and if you find one, please send it to me!), this study speaks on dehumanization as a precursor to adult sexual violence.

This study, conducted on convicted child molesters in prison, showed that child molesters tend to fantasize about children while in a negative mood, further contributing to the theory that child victims are dehumanized prior to abuse.

This very small sample study found that in a mixed sample of internet only/contact crime/mixed offenders, offenders who had contact with children had lower rates of fantasizing about children.

In short, half the time a child predator is someone who wants to offend against a child regardless of attraction to the fact they are a child.

Resources To Recognize Grooming/Abuse Victims/Predators

I would absolutely be remiss to not share my collection of resources to help detect signs of abuse/grooming as well as warning signs of a predator who may be targeting elders/women/teens/children:

Darkness 2 Light is a fantastic resource overall, this page details stages and signs of grooming.

RAINN personally helped me through my PTSD journey, and this article detailing the signs of sexual trauma in teenagers is thorough and non-judgemental

Signs of abuse as well as warning signs of predation that does not use gendered language nor play into the Stranger Danger myth.

Education, not Censorship

I think a lot of the energy against taboo content among young people still has a lot to do with the desire to end rape culture. The tools that we Millennial Tumblrinas gave you Gen Z kids were snatches of leftist theory, deplatforming, and voting with your dollar, so it’s reasonable to think that removing taboo content like pedophilia, incest, rape fights rape culture.

It doesn’t.

Rape culture is fought by education. Comprehensive sex education, education about consent. Talking about what consent looks like, what sex can look like, what rape can look like.

There should be more taboo content to talk about these things, to show all the shades it can look like. From a violent noncon to fics that aren’t even tagged as dubcon yet still are in shades that are hard to suss out, we should talk about it.

A Non-Empirical Example Of Good Media Analysis and Education to Combat Rape Culture

Let’s use the example of Daemon and Rhaenyra Targaryen’s relationship in House of the Dragon. Canonically, in both the book and the show, they have a romantic relationship that appears for the most part to be positive (the show being more contentious but I dedicated an aside to Sarah Hess and our beef at the bottom of my Carrd, but feel free to ask how I feel about writing producers with any variation of the name ‘Sarah’) despite an age gap, a sexual relationship that began while Rhaenyra was a minor, and incest - the problematic hat trick if you will.

I have seen anti-Daemyra shippers condemn Daemyra shippers for “Condoning grooming, age gaps, pedophilia, and incest.” Which is not just a broad, inaccurate, and harmful statement, it’s not at all constructive or educational analysis.

It would actually be beneficial to say “Daemon is grooming Rhaenyra as a teenager with gifts, devoted attention that takes advantage of her isolation and vulnerability, frequent nonsexual touches, the extreme desensitization to sexuality in the brothel visit,” etc etc. And even so, it is not useful to say that people cannot still ship the relationship and acknowledge those aspects. They might want to further explore the issues of consent in their dynamic in fiction, they may want to strip away some of them with narrative reimagining. Some might want to ignore the taboos completely and indulge in the fantasy entirely, and some might find the actors hot as hell - AKA, anyone who watches the show.

It’s honestly a little similar to me in how Jerry Falwell would tell his followers not to watch or read or take in any media that dealt with homosexuality unless it was condemning it - even Will & Grace was on Jerry’s shitlist. And so, Jerry’s followers missed out on a lot of media that could have educated them about queerness, could have humanized queer people for them - and that did not make queers go away. Just like ignoring or shutting out media about incest, rape, and other forms of sexual violence doesn’t make those things go away - it just tends to make you less informed, and little less capable of empathy towards people affected by those subjects.

So let’s stop shaming those that ship a complicated dynamic - you get less fanworks exploring those taboos, and less of a discussion overall. You shut down the morality lab of fiction, and to be honest, it’s wet sock behavior.

Some FanFiction Specific Studies

How dubcon fanfiction can flesh out the intricacies and messiness of realistic consent

A review of darkfic written about Harry Potter in 2005 (which, I will personally attest has never been outdone in how profoundly taboo those works were)

Interviews with 11 Self Insert writers who wrote on themes of rape, abuse, control, yandere, etc, and how that was beneficial to some who had experienced sexual violence themselves

Conclusion:

H…holy shit, you actually read all of that?? Congrats dude! That is a lot of time and brain power to dedicate to any one thing!

By the way, I am not really gifted at writing articles or any of that junk, and I tried to make my hyperlexic ass a little more accessible instead of bringing out all the $5 words. I am literally just an autistic who took a couple technical writing classes over a decade ago and really wanted to sort out my thoughts and try to have a platform for discussion. Also, I am really fucking bad at math. I failed two different college level statistics classes twice each. Gun to my head, I could not tell you what a standard deviation is, which is why I worked entirely with the percentages.

And I do want to have a discussion! I would in fact like to not report anyone for sending me gore or death threats or any of that stuff! I don’t think everyone will agree with me, in fact I’m certain that you could find studies that contradict some of mine, and I’d love to discuss them!

I’m sure it will still be tempting to throw around accusations of pedophilia because sometimes, confronting your previously held beliefs is incredibly uncomfortable. If you could not do that, that would be great? I don’t like being compared to someone who profoundly abused me just because I have a different opinion on how to combat rape culture and empower survivors. If you can do that, I’ll do my absolute best to be cheerful and welcoming and respectful as well. 😁

PS - I’m also not really going to be phased if you call me weird or cringe - I am. Always have been. Cringe, weirdness, and autism have made me do and capable of doing some fantastically neat and impressive stuff. But if you try to say something like “proshippers are too yucky and weird to be in fandom” - I’m going to have to refer you to your similarity to Kate Sanders of Lizzy McGuire fame, you “prEpz >:(“ - [My Immortal, legendary author unknown]

[nadvs]

why do i see cheerleader reader having daddy issues, so when she tells rafe she’s pregnant, she’s so emotional and scared about how he’s gonna react and if he’s gonna break up with her or something

it tracks 🥺 she always expects to be disappointed by men and it’s not just because every guy she’s dated before rafe has treated her badly…

based on this fic

when she moves in with rafe after she finishes her post-grad internship, she’s still on the pill. one day, she’s complaining about the side effects of it as she’s making herself lunch and her boyfriend says, “then stop taking it.”

she looks at him from across the kitchen.

“we’d have to use protection,” she says. “every time.”

“sure. but is it so bad if…?”

she’s shocked. they’ve been together for about two years now and they’ve never talked about kids past a mention of it’d be nice to be parents some day.

“if i get pregnant?” she says.

“yeah.”

“isn’t that fast?”

“not for me. is it fast for you?”

she shrugs. maybe it’s not so crazy. they have their future set. a child would be a nice addition. they haven’t talked about marriage, but she’s in no rush. they don’t have to be married to have a baby.

“if we both want it… i guess if it happens, it happens,” she mumbles. “but our lives would change really, really drastically.”

“i know,” rafe says comfortingly.

she continues to make herself food and he stares at her, imagining her with a baby bump and that bump turning into a little human who’s a mix of him and the person he loves most.

he knows she’d be a great mom. and he’s always wanted to be a dad. he’s always wanted to undo how his own father had raised him, making his only son have to struggle for his fleeting approval.

three months later, she misses her period. she doesn’t tell rafe. she picks up a pregnancy test. she doesn’t tell him that, either. when she sees the double lines on the test, she’s standing in the middle of their bathroom, her body trembling.

and she hates that she doesn’t feel excited. she’s scared. she thought she wanted this. she hoped for a positive. but this isn’t the feeling she thought she’d have.

she goes through the motions of ordering a custom newborn basketball jersey with cameron stitched on the back, having dreamed of telling rafe that they’re expecting that way.

a couple of days later, it comes in the mail. she has actually sort of liked keeping the secret while she waited because it meant she could pretend it wasn’t real yet.

she does what she thinks she should do. she puts the tiny shirt in a bag, sets up her phone to record, and calls him over to tell him something came for him. this is what a woman who’s excited to tell him would do, she tells herself.

at first, when rafe opens the bag, he doesn’t say anything. his jaw goes slack, he blinks a bunch of times, and then he pulls her in for a tight hug.

she’s already shaking, tears in her eyes, when she hears him sniffle. he pulls back. his hands are firm on her cheeks, gazing at her through glossy blue eyes.

“you’re happy?” she whispers.

“yeah,” he responds, saying it like it’s obvious. “we wanted this, right?”

rafe stills for a moment when he sees just how anguished she looks. she doesn’t seem happy at all.

“right?” he repeats.

“yeah,” she says, nodding and looking down. “i don’t know. it’s weird. maybe it’s the hormones already.”

“how long have you known? do you feel okay?”

“just a couple days,” she says. “i’m tired. a little nauseous. but he hasn’t made me throw up yet.”

“he?”

she meets her boyfriend’s eyes.

“i know it’s too soon to tell,” she says, “but i really hope it’s a boy. you’ll feel more connected to a boy.”

he can tell by the way she’s stuttering and crying that something’s wrong.

“baby,” he mumbles. “i’ll feel connected no matter what. it’s my kid.”

she shudders, nodding through her sobs.

“what’s up?” rafe says softly. “do you… are you regretting it?”

“no,” she replies, “but are you sure you want this?”

“yes. we talked about it,” he reminds her. “it’s not like this was an accident.”

“yeah,” she mumbles, looking down at her lap again.

rafe stares at her, slightly shaking his head in disbelief. she’s acting like this was unexpected. like she’s wishing they never started trying.

“what is it?” he says. “if you don’t want this, then just tell me.”

she curls up, slouching as she dips her head into her hands, the tears coming harder now.

“if it gets hard…” she whimpers, her voice muffled. “you can’t leave me to do it on my own. you can’t.”

he’s floored. they haven’t mentioned anything about the possibility of things not working out with them in ages. and back when they did, it was almost always rafe needing reassurance that she wasn’t planning on leaving him.

“i would never do that,” he says. “look at me.” his fingers wrap around her wrists, pulling her hands down from her face.

“where’s this coming from?” rafe mumbles. “did i do something?”

he thinks back to the past few days, trying to remember if he said something even in passing that would make her worry about him abandoning his girl and their baby.

the look in his eyes almost looks like betrayal. like he can’t believe she’s saying this.

she swallows hard, coming to terms with what’s been swimming in her head for days now. her father was absent. the only example she had of a dad was one who never really acted like he wanted a kid at all.

“i don’t know what it looks like,” she begins, “when a man actually wants to be a dad. maybe you’re excited now, but what if when it gets hard? when he’s crying or sick or keeping us awake?”

“we’ll deal with it,” he says. he pushes past his own ache to try to understand her.

his cups her hands in his, searching her face with concerned eyes. he remembers her opening up to him long ago about how she always wondered if her dad would have loved her more if she was a son instead of a daughter.

“when he or she is giving us hell, we’ll deal with it,” he says. “i love them already. there’s nothing that’ll change that.”

he puts a hand on her stomach, rubbing gently. she finally cracks a smile, softly laughing. his chest loses its tightness when he sees her look happy for the first time since he got home.

“i was reading that it’s the size of a pomegranate seed right now,” she says.

he smiles in awe, kissing her wet cheek.

“what’s next?” he asks. “what appointments do we make? what should you be eating?”

she laughs again. rafe has always been so intense, so focused on the next step.

“let me catch my breath first,” she teases. she looks over, just now remembering she filmed all this.

“my bad, baby,” he laughs. “breathe. this’ll be good, alright?”

“alright,” she says. and she believes it.

[arjudy224]

The Intern: Outreach Gala

Another uneventful day for Gotham's environmental intern...

Prequel: Death of a family

The Intern: Day one

The Intern: The Laughing Fish

The Intern: Busy Work

The Intern: Outreach Gala

The Intern: Visiting an old friend

The Intern: Chemical Valley

The Intern: Billionaire Boys Club

Gotham's public library appears unrecognizable under the cloak of night. Broad leaves shroud the outside exterior of the Gothic pillars while ivy cascades down the large door frames. Harris raises an eyebrow.

"How many forests do you think Wayne destroyed in his quest to save the planet?" He questions with a smirk.

Each grey hair is perfectly gelled out of his face. Ditching his glasses for the occasion, Dr. Harris may actually care about tonight's guests. The bouncer outside the door seemed to think the dress code was not a laughing matter.

Taking his extended arm, I roll my eyes. The security guy nods to the two of us as we walk through the door.

"Professor, if you keep saying things like that Gordon's going to question your stances on Gotham's resident Eco-terrorist. " I whisper with a smile. "....but at least 12."

Thanks to the joint collaboration between Wayne Industries, Goth-corp, and the Gotham Department of Environmental Protection. Gotham City is hosting its first Environmental Outreach Gala for the nearby tri-state area. Unfortunately for me, they saddled the newest intern to do all the heavy lifting. Young joints and all that jazz. At least I got an invite. The invites ran out before the IT guy could get one. Poor Eddie.

My heart flutters a little bit as a realization hits me. I’m actually here… surrounded by giants in clean energy and the scientific community alike. Award-winning journalists... All for the future of our planet. Passing my reflection, I smile thinking of how far I’ve come from that little river rat back at home.

A figure in the corner of my eye draws my thoughts away from the Grandma debrief. Dick Grayson, the Billionaire’s son, charms the group of ladies by his side. I take a mental note to find time to talk to him when there isn’t such a big crowd. It's been a long time since we last spoke.

The walls echo with the idle chatter coming from the rich socialites of Gotham. Waiters in tuxedos maneuver silently with a tray of champagne flutes in each hand. Considering, that most environmental professionals wear cargo pants from the early 2000s to work... the dress code was definitely a choice. I scan the room for familiar faces. Gordon flashes me a smile from across the room. I nod back. The Mayor works his way around the room with a large smile. It must be an election year.

My throat gets tight. I'm not ready for this. Looking to my right, I find that Dr. Harris has vanished into the crowd.

"Y/N L/N?" A voice calls distracting me from my nerves.

A well-dressed man strolls over. Something about him puts me on edge. Maybe it's his wicked smile or the large emerald ring on his outstretched hand. He walks with an easy air of confidence.

"Lex Luthor."

My heart does a little tap dance in my chest. The tight fabric of my rental dress makes it hard to breathe. I shake his hand politely. The party-goers go quiet around us. From the corner of my eye, Lois Lane, an investigative reporter from Metropolis, shoves through the crowd. So much for being a fly on the wall.

"I recently worked with a Professor of yours. She had a lot to say about your graduate proposal."

This cannot be happening. Memories of those long fights in the lab flash in the back of my mind. Mr. Luthor's cat-like gaze observes my reaction curiously.

I cover my face in embarrassment. That woman deserves hate mail. I could have at least been asked to type or spell-check it beforehand.

"To be frank, I originally chose the topic to get a rise outta her. Dr. Hendrix had me doing dishes for 3 weeks straight after I accidentally messed up a sample, so I wrote a proposal I knew she wouldn't like."

When I finally uncover my face, Luthor stares down at me with an amused grin.

"Even so. I'd like to discuss potential funding opportunities in Metropolis. If this is something you would think up out of boredom, I'd love to see what you can do when you put your mind to it."

That brings a smile to my face.

"Really? Everyone who I've brought it up to has been apprehensive about researching Kryptionian radiation.

"We need more scientists to ask questions Ms. L/N. Even the ones, that people don't want to know the answer to. "

The sullen green glow draws my eye once again to Mr. Luthor's ring finger... Wait, that's not an emerald. That's Kryptonite.

"Is this a personal interest of yours?" I ask slowly glancing between his eyes and his ring.

"In some ways."

An unspoken conversation occurs when he notices my acknowledgement of his strange choice of jewelry. The silence only creates more questions. Why would you wear something you know is irradiated?

"I hope to hear from you soon." Mr. Luthor concludes after handing me a business card, "There is always a spot at Lexcorp for a future scientist with your talents."

I stand there in silence watching him leave. The sleek modern design of the card lists only the bare essentials: his name, office address, and contact information in silver lettering.

Four hours ago, I was hauling boxes for the decorating committee. Huh. A nearby waiter offers a champagne flute from the tray. Respectfully, I turn them down. This dress costs more than my rent.

“Oh no. Thank you. I am… working.”

"Does work-life balance not apply to interns?” A voice interrupts.

I try not to roll my eyes at the "intern" comment. The constant reminders of my status are getting old. Starting at his perfectly buffed dress shoes, my gaze drags along the fabric of his black designer suit. Dick Grayson sure does like to make an entrance. With his dark curls and friendly blue eyes, his familiar smile knocks over my defenses. Sipping on his drink, he waits for my response with a teasing grin. His energy is contiguous. I ignore his question to ask my own instead.

“Has anyone told you that you tend to appear out of nowhere?”

His striking eyes light up with a mischievous glint.

“You have no idea.” He laughs, "It's nice to see you back in Gotham. It's been a long time."

"It has. From the rumors, you have been up to quite a bit of trouble." I joke gesturing to the envious eyes from across the room.

He raises a curious eyebrow.

“Good things I hope?”

Glancing around the room, I ignore the dozen eyes staring daggers in my direction. Academia can be such a bitch.

“Nothing too crazy: a few murders, unfounded accusations, and you might be an alien?”

Dick grimaces while tilting his head ever so slightly. He swirls his drink, yet doesn't take a sip.

“Sounds about right. Anything you believe? “

I pause... Do I play coy?

“I’m not sure an alien could do a quadruple summersault.”

Something flashes in his eyes that I don’t quite understand. For a moment, I wonder if I should have held my tongue. His suspicion morphs into the first genuine smile I've seen all evening.

“You’ve kept tabs on me Y/N.”

Before I can respond, a scream causes the ballroom to descend into chaos. Vines shoot out from under the floorboards while the native plants start attacking the guest. A woman with flaming red hair paces the floor. Her vines wrap around each person one by one…. A thorny bush springs out of a fallen leaf snagging my delicate rental dress.

Dammit Pamela. We talked about this.

Glancing at the bartender's horrified expression, I frown.

“I change my mind. I’ll have that drink now.”

[ozzgin]

heya...!!!! Sweetypie 🍓🥧🧁.... It's me again, i want to make a request again...if you don't mind 😃.

Can you make a request regarding creepypasta with ticci tobby and eyelash Jack .Previous request for a creepypasta

Most certainly! Though my drafts are a mess so I’m no longer sure what the previous request refers to. ;-; Hopefully this is close to what you pictured.

Yandere! Creepypasta x Reader

Featuring Ticci-Toby and Eyeless Jack and a clueless reader that caught their attention. TW: dubious consent, gore and violence

Ticci-Toby

Oh, he really can’t explain it but you’ve tied his heart into a knot. His chest is tight and it’s almost as if his lungs struggle to get enough oxygen. You seem kind and he can’t help but daydream that he’s the subject to your friendly gestures. He feels like a spoiled child, drinking up every drop of affection, tipsy with delight. If only those doll eyes of yours looked at him.

He’s hesitant to approach you because his moods are so unpredictable. He’d love to shower you in adoration and spend the rest of his life protecting you from any threats. Then comes his rage and he’s tempted to scratch your face off for smiling to anyone else but him. Why are you trying so hard for other people? No one appreciates you as much as he does, (Y/N). Is his attention not enough? Does he need to hold your gaze in by force?

Suffice to say that Ticci-Toby can be extremely jealous and possessive well before you’re even aware of his existence. Unlike Eyeless Jack, however, he is very open about his displays of love and doesn’t wait too long to introduce himself. His impulsive desires take over any consideration he’s had regarding your safety in front of his mood swings. He can worry about it when it actually happens. Now matter the anger, he’d never hurt his darling, would he? It’s the others that will have to pay.

If he’s feeling particularly hyperactive he will begin parroting his reasons for your fated romance and why you were meant to be. If anxiety equates in, the narrations turn into regurgitated, repetitive questions stemming out of insecurity. Are you really certain you haven’t gotten tired of him? Truly, without a doubt? Perhaps you were thinking of leaving him? The interrogations culminate in desperate begging for reassurance. Please let him know you’ll never, ever abandon him. Otherwise he will have to guarantee it himself one way or another.

Eyeless Jack

You happened to be the next victim on his list. The creature stood above your sleeping form in absolute silence. You barely shuffled at the sudden coldness from the edge of the scalpel coming into contact with your abdomen. The blade, however, remained still on the surface. The hollow sockets were fixated on your unconscious face, seemingly deep in consideration.

He can’t quite pinpoint a reasoning to it, but your presence has caught his interest. On the bright side, you get to keep your kidney. The only caveat is that you now have a rather dedicated admirer with a less orthodox approach to his growing crush.

Jack primarily enjoys watching you from afar and leaves only vague hints of his presence. Which, of course, depends on your definition of vague. At first you didn’t make the connection between the people wronging you in your daily life and the mysterious packages you’d receive in the mail containing frozen raw organs. You had assumed some neighbor might’ve gotten some subscription for their dog and messed up the address. As the news piled up, often involving these particular people as abruptly missing, your suspicions increased. Especially after noticing that none of your neighbors seem to have pets. And then the love notes started and you nearly threw up next to your mailbox.

Jack is fidgeting like a schoolgirl upon seeing your reaction to his confessions. Could you be that overwhelmed by his love? It wasn’t a big deal, really. He’s just doing what he’s best at. He’s just glad to ease your life by erasing the factors that upset you. You don’t have to worry about returning his favors. Humans come with two kidneys for a reason, after all. They were made for sharing.

Now that he’s gotten his answer, he can confidently approach you. He can’t wait to get his claws on you. You look stunning from a distance, too, but nothing compares to actually feeling you. Hearing your whimpers of shy protest, sensing the increased pulse tumultuously running through your veins, observing your pupils contract in mild…fear? No, most likely just excitement. His spiraling black eyes (or rather, lack of) devour your presence with anatomical curiosity. If he’s careful enough, he might even play with you a little. He’ll be extra careful with his darling.

[mothiir]

the war hawk

because i need to write some more jagahatai. no cw for this one!

”Stand,” says the Great Khan from his throne, lounging like a true conqueror, safe in the knowledge of his victory. His gur is gigantic, larger than the cathedrals of your city home, and permits a great gathering of people — some his strange white-armoured sons, but mostly humans. They array in a circle around you, with no clear demarcation of rank, and none of the finery that the noble families of your home would display in such a gathering. You get the sense that they are all of one kin, a bond forged in the crucible of war. Perhaps if your own family had set aside its internecine struggles —

No. You cannot think like that. They didn’t. They lost. That is all there is.

You stand with the help of one of your attendants, schooling your face into careful, decorous blankness. You will not dishonour your family by weeping. Women of your family have married for politics for generations — yes, it has been centuries since any of your foremothers were offered up to a warlord in exchange for peace, but it is not your place to bemoan your fate. No: you must be thankful. You must wring gratitude from this misery, because no man found under the stars — or among them — will be charmed by a dour, shivering wretch.

“Yes, my Lord Khan,” you say. “Forgive me — I do not speak your tongue —“

“That is no matter,” he says. “I speak the language of this system well enough.”

Your maid gives you a swift, curious look, which you deliberately ignore — though you share her thoughts. The stories you both heard spoke of barbarian sheep-herders that tore books apart in anger because they could not read them.

“You honour our meagre home with your presence, my Lord,” you say, swooping into another curtsy. The clothing you wear is gorgeous, but highly impractical: a chain mail dress, ornamented with gemstones; a headdress anchored in place with hairpins that bite at your scalp. You wear the tribute, and you are the tribute. Gold, sapphires, precious metals, precious fuels — and livestock. The finest horses, cattle, sheep and poultry that your homeland has.

And you, of course. You who feel that you have more in common with the broodmares and fattened lambs in your entourage than with the crown on your head.

The Great Khan acknowledges your flattery only with the slight incline of his head. His throne is draped in so many furs you cannot see the original shape of it. It looks comfortable. To his left sits three of his sons, clad in their armour, but helmetless. To his right is an elderly man, a hood pulled over his head, so his face is shadowed. An advisor, maybe?

“Your father did not say this when he first met our envoys. We interpreted his broadcast. Sheepfuckers and misfits, he called us,” he says, idly, and your stomach drops into your feet. Instinctively, you pull your handmaids closer to you, grasping their chilly hands with yours.

“My father —“

“And in this letter he sent you with,” the Khan says, unfolding the parchment. It seems tiny in his gigantic hands. “He says that he is but — ‘a worm in the garden of my resplendence’ — he has quite the way with words, does he not? And such a change of heart! A modest man, to say he is but a worm in the garden of a sheepfucker.”

A few of his sons chortle; someone jeers. Your cheeks flame, and you lick your lips before replying.

“My father’s words were misspoken and arrogant.”

“Indeed. And he has learned the error of his ways. As long as he pays his tithes, he and his people will be treated as valued members of the Imperium — and under the protection of the Emperor of Mankind.”

The Great Khan turns back to the parchment, and makes a show of reading further.

“He has some words for you too.”

You swallow thickly. Your mother had been all careful posed dignity when she sent you away; your father had embraced you and wept. His first child; his first girl. His eldest. Sacrificing so much for the sake of her people —

“‘—though she is no great beauty, and is altogether too clever, she is swift to learn, and her mother bore eight children, four of whom were boys, so it is likely that she will likewise be fertile,’” the Khan reads, and something inside you freezes. There are no chuckles now — even if there had been, you would not have heard them over the strange high ringing in your ears. Your fingernails dig into the back of your handmaid’s hand, leaving bloody red crescents; she does not seem to notice; or if she does notice, she does not care. “And if she is not to your liking then rest assured she has sisters, who are fairer and younger and —“

“Don’t you dare!” you shout, without thinking, without considering and — oh by the gods what have you done? And then you remember that these strange men from the stars burn churches and despise worship, and so calling on the gods just makes things worse — and you freeze, heart rabbiting, eyes wide. “I mean, my lord, please — the next-oldest of my sisters is sixteen summers —“

You were born to be a politician — bred to be one — and yet all of your training has been for nothing, for in that moment you are not a diplomat but a sister, white-hot fury pulsing behind your eyes. If you had talons, you’d rip your fathers face from his skull; if you had wings, you’d pull your sisters and handmaids under their span, tuck them safe and secure and hidden. But you have neither: only a clumsy tongue, and rage that stoppers your throat, and grief great enough to drown in. And all the while the Khan watches you, impassive as a hawk; a great predator, with no concern for the mewling of women —

“Jaghatai,” says the cloaked figure to his right, pulling her hood back. “You’re scaring the girl.”

What you had assumed to be a withered old man is in fact a withered old woman, with nut-brown skin, heavy black hair, and bright eyes glittering in folds of corrugated flesh.

“I am — ah,” says the Great Khan, and then his face relaxes minutely. He smiles — though the gesture does nothing to calm you, directed as it is at the woman. “Apologies.”

“Don’t apologise to me, Khan — apologise to your poor bride! Soldiers! Really!”

She stretches like a cat, her joints clicking, and stands. Three of the astartes hasten to help her down the dais, but she waves them away.

“I can manage just fine on my own, boys,” she says, and hobbles her way down to you. She’s barely up to your shoulder, hunched over with age; her clothes are of fine quality, but thoroughly worn. “Honestly.”

“My lady Hoelun — “ one of the men says, but she points her stick at him.

“Tsubodai, I knew you when you were stumbling around after your father’s goats — when I need your help, I shall ask for it. All of you! Useless!”

Instinctively, you curtesy to her. She chuckles, and catches your chin with one gnarled hand.

“Let’s have a look. All your own teeth, no mutations,” she says, tipping your face this way and that. “Clever, that letter said, and I’ll believe that — every woman we’ve met in this system can read and write, which is a blessing, believe me. Half of my grandsons are still learning. They like their bikes and their ponies, what do they need letters for?”

She pinches your cheek.

“Smart, because you knew how to greet the Great Khan. And reckless brave, because you shouted at him. And —“ She looks down at your hands, which still clutch at your whimpering maids. Her gummy smile widens. “And decent too.”

She turns back to the Great Khan.

“You’ll marry this one, Jaghatai. I’ll make the arrangements for the ceremony in two moons time. Until then, we’ll follow tradition.”

The Great Khan does not seem at all surprised at the display. His smile has deepened, and for the first time he looks more like a man than a hunting bird.

“Very well, Mother,” he says. “If you approve — my lady, you will be granted your own household, and a gur large enough to hold them. You may bring women to attend you from your home planet if you wish — or if you prefer, I can name some from within my own family. A hundred head of horse are yours as of today; for each week until our wedding another hundred shall be added to your herd. You will learn our language and our customs, and you will sit in on my council with my mother —“

“My lord — I am no warrior,” you say, and he holds up a hand to silence you.

“No. But I am no politician. An empire can be conquered from the saddle of a horse, but not ruled from one. You will attend council with my mother and learn from her, so that when we are wed you may pick up the governance of this sector in my absence.”

“But — my father is the governor,” you say, brow furrowed, still feeling like you are stumbling to catch up. Hoelun chuckles.

“For now. But who trusts a man who puffs up his chest only to crawl in the dirt with nary an arrow fired?”

The implication of her words should horrify you. You think of your sisters, and you feel only a hesitant, fragile kindling of hope. Hoelun gives your cheek another affectionate — if slightly painful — squeeze.

“Welcome home,” she says.

[bingbongsupremacy]

Closure Pt. 2

Pairing: Steve Harrington x plus size!reader

Warnings: swearing, anger, idk what else

Series Summary: You never knew Steve could be so shallow. When he leaves you to date Nancy Wheeler, you're left with a pain you thought he'd never leave with you. Maybe you should've stayed friends.

Part Summary: He wrote a letter. You don't need him. Right?

*Not Proof Read* Stranger Things Masterlist

Based off of Taylor Swift Song Closure. This was a request. I tried to make everything as general as possible. Pls let me know if missed something ty.

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3

*****

No one was supposed to know we were dating. Steve said he didn’t want his teammates to bug me. He didn’t want people to overreact when they found out about us and say mean shit. At the time, I agreed. I mean, Steve’s the king of Hawkins high. I wouldn’t be the first girl he’s dated who’s had rumors spread about them. 

Hiding us was harder than we thought. A month or so after we got together Tommy found out and told the whole team. Gradually the whole school found out. Gossip spreads like wildfire, especially in a town like Hawkins. 

During the weeks after we broke up, I started to think about our secret relationship.

He wasn’t trying to protect me. He was trying to protect his reputation. Steve might not show it but deep down he’s just like everyone else. He’s got insecurities too. He obsesses over anything negative that’s said about him, analyzing everything that others think is imperfect about him until he finds a way to change it.

That’s something I noticed sophomore year when we started to get a little closer.

He was kind to me, but he wasn’t perfect. I don’t know for sure but I think he still messed with underclassmen, bullying them for praise from Tommy and Carol. He wanted to be liked by everyone, especially those two assholes.

He was always going to pick them over me. 

“ Honey, this came in for you today. “ My mom breaks me out of my thoughts. 

I look up from my stack of paperwork. “ What? From who? “ My brows furrow in confusion. Who would send mail to my parents’ house? I haven’t lived here in years. 

“ It’s from Steve. “ My moms eyes scan over the stark white envelope. 

My heart sinks. 

What the fuck does he want? 

I haven’t seen or talked to him since graduation 7 years ago. What could he want with me? Last I heard he got a job at Family Video and Nancy broke up with him. 

He knows I’m here. He has to. Fucking Hawkins. When one person knows everyone knows. Mrs. Henderson must’ve told someone when I ran into her at the gas station. 

“ What ever happened to you and Steve? Do you both still talk? “ My mom asks curiously while handing over my mail. 

Oh right. I never told her. 

“ We fell out of touch. You know, life. " I shrug, hoping that's enough for her.

" Oh, that's so sad sweetie. I'm sorry. " She sends me a small sympathetic smile. " That's always hard when you lose touch with someone you love. " She gently pats my shoulder.

Love.

Steve didn't love me.

I send her a small smile, hoping to drop the topic. " It happens, ma. "

" Well, I'll you get to it. " She dismisses herself, leaving me to the letter in my hands.

I trace the sharp corners of the envelope. Should I open it? Do I want to?

I wonder what it says.

What could he have to say to me after all of these years? It couldn't be something worth my time. Not after the shit that happened in high school. Right?

But what if it is?

Fuck it. I'm curious.

I pull open the envelope and let the torn paper fall into my lap. A neatly folded letter greens me, the bright white stationary paper matching the envelope.

This is it. Here we go.

I pull open the letter. Dark blue pen lines starkly contrast the white paper. Steve's familiar handwriting fills a good portion of the page. At the bottom his squiggly signature lies, bold and exactly the same as I remember.

Y/N,

I hope this letter finds you. I heard you're back in town. I've been meaning to do this for a long time. I've debated writing to you for years. I didn't know if I had anything good enough to send to you.

I was an asshole to you. You didn't deserve how I broke up with you. I feel horrible about how I treated you. About how I let other people change my opinion and control my actions. I should've stood stronger with what I thought.

That's something I always loved about you. You didn't let other people sway your opinions. I'm sure you still don't. You thought for yourself.

You are so much braver than I am. You didn't compromise yourself for others.

I've thought about what happened for years. About how you must have felt.

I hope you're well. I hope you've been able to move on and you've continued to be yourself. I know I don't deserve to say that, I just wish you the best.

I wanted to explain to you why I did what I did. I owe it to you. I was selfish. I got caught up in the high school popularity shit. I know it's stupid. I wanted to be Hawkins High's main guy. I wanted the Prom King title. I wanted the attention.

I really did like you. You made me feel safe and understood. You were always patient and kind. You urged me to be me, even when I felt like caving under pressure. You liked me for me, not for who I was trying to be. You deserved better than me.

People started to talk. You know. You heard the rumors.

At first, I thought I could handle it. I thought it wouldn't bug me. I thought I could push past it all. I cracked. Tommy and Carol jumped on the wagon and it pushed me over the edge. I couldn't bare the thought of losing the respect I'd worked so hard to get. I couldn't handle the teasing I'd get from the guys after games or the looks Tommy'd send my way when he saw us together.

It was wrong. I didn't think about you. About how you must've felt and how you were handling everything that was going on. It was Senior Year. I should've held on. We would've been out of this shit hole in a few months anyway, I don't know why I didn't just ignore it all. That's one of my biggest regrets.

I've been in therapy for a few years now. I've worked past all that surface-level shallow shit. I really see just how much I hurt you, and for that I'm so sorry.

I don't expect you to forgive me. I just wanted you to know that you're the first girl I ever loved and I am so grateful for you. Our relationship sent me on a path to help myself, and for that I will always love you.

Thank you.

-Steve Harrington

P.S. The week before we broke up I was going to give this to you. I never did.

I glance down at the envelope in my lap and open it. At the bottom lays a shiny silver necklace. A small gem, my birthstone, lays in the center. It glimmers in the light. It's beautiful.

I turn the gem over and spot a small engraving on the back.

SH +Y/N

For a moment I'm torn.

Should I write him back? Should we talk?

Part of me does miss him. I miss his laugh. His playful teasing. The way he looked at me.

No.

He hurt me. A lot.

He can't just send a letter and make it better. Why didn't he talk to me in person if this really weighed on him as much as he says it did? Why didn't he call me?

I don't need him. I'm fine. I've been fine without him for years. I'm not going to let him back into my life because he feels bad about his actions and insecurities.

I left Hawkins for a reason. I needed to get away from Steve. I needed him out of my life.

I'm not going to let him back in for his sake.

I don't need him.

I stand up, taking the papers and necklace in my hand. I walk over to the trashcan near my dresser. Without a second thought, I drop everything into the can.

The necklace makes a small clunking sound as it hits the bottom of my empty can.

The rustling of papers quiets and so does my pounding heart.

I'm fine on my own.

(Do we like this ending? Or should I try to make another part? )

Taglist: @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @queen-apple24

[danieyells]

Can I see Romeo's voicelines please? He's such a failguy, I need to knowwww

How dare you call him a failguy!

he is THE failguy. don't make him sound offbrand.

i love Romeo he is honestly so ridiculous like. . .you meet Romeo in the first chapter and you do NOT realize he's going to be like. . .that. . .in the Sinostra chapter. . . .

Hello: (the first time the game is opened after that character is set as home screen NPC. Only happens once per day, unless the character is switched out and back.)

"Hey! I'm talking to you, BB! If you've got time to wander around, you've got time to wipe the tables!"

i thoguht the pc was supposed to be doing uh background work for you at the casino. why is she cleaning tables!? go ask her to run drugs for you or something.

You've Got Mail: (whenever there's something in the inbox, usually Arena rewards)

"Excuse me? What sane person lets their messages pile up like this!? Deal with them or I'll deal with you!"

'clean up your inbox or they will have to clean you and put you in a box'

Default: (requires no affinity, has no time constraints)

"Fuji... Come out, come out, wherever you are... Tch, where did he go? Why is running away the only thing he's good at!?"

"Listen up—call me Fico. That's the only name I'll respond to, understand!?"

disregard the 'Lulu' from Taiga, 'Romi-sama'/'Ro-Ro' from Leo, 'RomiRomi' from Rui. . .'Fico' is for underlings, and you are an underling!

"Come to my private office later—I've got a little proposal I think you'll want to hear.  But make sure you come alone."

"Just go! I cannot deal with this WTWUT! Wall-To-Wall Useless Trash, obviously!"

that was a long acronym!

"Time to count this month's protection fees... Not bad. I'll up this group by 2% next month. This one could go a little higher too..."

Affinity 1: (between 5am and 11am)

"Why does that DOF want to meet so early in the morning? If I get bags under my eyes because of this, I'm going to slit his throat."

we never learned what "DOF" stood for did we. we do know it's Hyde now, though!

Affinity 2: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Hello? Yes, I was just eating lunch. Again?  ...Fine. Tonight? All right. Bye now."

booty call from hyde? in the middle of the day? shameless

Affinity 3: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Have you seen Shinjo anywhere? I just asked him to organize some documents and he ran off to make copies!"

Ritsu has a line referencing this one!

Affinity 4: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Mickey's bar? Yes, I am going again tonight, but it's only because there's nowhere else to go for a drink."

isn't there a bar in the casino. . .i guess he doesn't wanna spend time on the casino floor. also "Mickey" is Rui Mizuki, if you weren't able to figure that out haha

Affinity 5: (between 8pm and 5am)

"This is when the regulars usually come, so I have to sweeten the pot. I saw that HNTW out there earlier too."

i hate you and your acronyms LMAOOOO I THINK THIS IS REFERRING TO KAITO??? MAYBE??? he's the only character besides Taiga who frequents the casino that we're aware of!

Affinity 6: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"How dare those Frostheim slugs start whispering the moment they see my face... One day they'll be groveling at my feet..."

oof. . .the frostheimers are gossiping about the collapse of his family. . .yeah i'd be mad too there bud. i'd like to think he wanted to transfer to Frostheim once he became a second year and he ended up not doing it because Frostheim was just so toxic.

Affinity 7: (between 11am and 4pm)

"...Looks like I'm due for a tune up soon. Keeping my posture beautiful isn't easy, no matter how much I train my core."

i assume he sees like a chiropractor or a physical therapist or something. gets his atlas adjusted. maybe don't lean over your EITS laptops lol

Affinity 8: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"You're smelling the bedtime fragrance I bought from Kurossa earlier. He has a good eye, so I often ask him to pick things out for me."

'Kurossa' is Leo Kurosagi and his lines also reference this! I'm glad they get along so well haha I think they mesh pretty great. also the fact that Romeo gives little nicknames to people is cute. . . .

Affinity 9: (between 8pm and 5am)

"You want to see my Insta? I suppose that's fine, but do you even know anything about brands?"

brand ambassador romeo. . .god he probably does all sorts of dumb beauty shit on his instagram. do you think he participates in those health pyramid schemes? probably not, right, he's fairly legitimate in his business practices. . .sort of, sometimes, kind of, as long as you don't owe him money. . . .

Affinity 10: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Fuji's pendant? Of course I haven't given up on it. He has no idea of the value of what's hanging around his neck."

neither do we! please inform us!! but on the upside that means that Romeo knows what it is, to some degree. I assume it's some rare, powerful artifact. Kaito at least knows it's important.

Affinity 11: (between 5am and 11am)

"I have to drink a cup of room-temperature water, do an electric facial and a mask, apply body cream, do my neck routine... I have no free time in the morning."

Affinity 12: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Hey! There's a hair on the ground over here! And there's dust over here! Can't you even clean something properly without me holding your hand!?"

this is directed at his underlings, not the pc(or not the pc by themself.) I also appreciate that the Japanese specifies this is one single hair he's pointing out. Somebody get this man a roomba.

Affinity 13: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"I maintain my bullets myself. You really think I'd let another man handle my crown jewels?"

handle your WHAT-- i mean anyone could've guessed you and taiga don't have a very active sex life

Affinity 14: (between 5am and 11am)

"What is going on with your skin!? Do you even have a proper routine in place? Unacceptable. Your overnight skin cell turnover is suboptimal and it shows."

Affinity 15: (between 5am and 11am)

"That BTH...! I was almost impressed to see him out so early until I realized he's been playing all night!!"

taiga pulling an all-nighter at his own goddamn casino lmao. . . .

Affinity 16: (between 11am and 4pm)

"What do you mean you don't need any more noni juice? I went out of my way to prepare it for you. Come on now, drink it."

he personally made it for you! now drink the bitter nasty health juice. don't make him feed it to you. (The fact that he made you a health dink--went out of his way to make it for you--shows that he's really starting to like you and now he's treating you like a pet.)

Affinity 17: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Finally, some goods worth talking about. I have to ring that DOF and arrange the next event..."

so Hyde is an active participant in these auctions huh. . .are the secret missions he gives Romeo based on selling and distributing artifacts and anomalies in secret. . .?

Affinity 18: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Money, hard work, and patience... That's the cost of true beauty. Don't think it's something you can easily imitate."

Affinity 19: (between 10pm and midnight)

"How about a smoke before bed? I'm joking. If I wasn't selling it, I wouldn't be touching this unhealthy garbage."

quick someone shoop the "quieres" meme with romeo HE DOESN'T ACTUALLY TELL YOU WHAT HE'S HANDLING. . .considering his line of work it could be anything but regular cigarettes or cigars. Is it weed? is it crack?? is it meth???? i find that romeo is essentially the campus dealer hilarious.

Affinity 20: (between 5am and 11am)

"What? I'm on my way to the gym for a workout. ...You can join me if you're interested."

you know damn well he probably hates getting sweaty. but he's gotta keep up with his health and all so a little workout's not off the table. also you know he's wearing some fuckin. gucci leggings or some shit.

Affinity 21: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Why are you carrying that!? What if you drop it and it breaks? I'll get one of our young guys to do it, so put it down already!"

aw he's worried about--oh no he's just worrying about you dropping his stuff.

Affinity 22: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"I won't let anyone destroy what I've built— not even my OAOF."

GOD I HOPE THEY EXPLAIN THESE ACRONYMS SOMEWHERE ALONG THE LINE. I assume the first word is "Own". . .the last word could be "Family" or "Followers"/"Faction" or "Feelings". . . .

Affinity 23: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Most of humanity's problems can be solved with money. If you put that another way, without money, you don't stand a chance. That's the way the world works."

again, Taiga compared Ritsu's family to Romeo's before The Incident. Romeo lost everything he had at one point. He's afraid of ending up with nothing again. That's all. Even with the Casino, he doesn't want to lose it because it'd be losing everything he has again. Having no money means going back to 0.

Affinity 24: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Coming here alone this time of night, haven't you made progress? Come over here, I'll evaluate your efforts."

pc's getting brave enough to go to Sinostra in the middle of the night! probably did some shady job for him too. Also the face he makes while praising you for coming to Sinostra alone late at night is a little. . . .

Affinity 25(max): (no time constraints)

"What could you possibly be afraid of? You're one of my people! Walk with your head held high or I'll step on it!"

BBY YOU CAN STEP ON HER HEAD ANYWAY. PLEASE DO IT. 👀 also you have been opted out of being one of Taiga's people I guess. You have chosen your faction. /joke

Spring: (March-May) (between 5am and 11am)

"This year's AW collection is out... Tch. Not even a hint of taste in any of it. They'll bear this mark of shame for years."

I KNOW THIS ACRONYM! He's complaining about Autumn-Winter fashion!!! lbr romeo men's fashion is kinda boring anyway. I wonder if his family owned a fashion brand. . . .

(between 11am and 4pm)

"I don't mind the springtime in Japan. The mild weather is a bonus, but it's the transient beauty of the cherry blossoms I truly appreciate."

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"The new prototype is a tear bomb? A lot of anomalies don't even have eyes, is this really going to be useful?"

i mean it might be useful for the ones that have eyes. . .or for hunting down Kaito.

(between 8pm and 5am)

"Shut up! It's nearly time to settle the books so I'm completely run off my feet! I don't have time to deal with you, understand!?"

Summer: (June-August) (between 5am and 11am)

"Summer is all about aquamarine... If you believe that, you're a follower. A trendsetter would know to go against the grain with a heavier jade piece."

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Excuse me!? You really think I would stoop to petty theft!? This scarf and hat are UV protection!"

LMAO HE LOOKED SO SHADY THE PC GOT WORRIED

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"This? It's an original hot water blend with salt and lemon I came up with. You shouldn't be cooling your insides just because it's hot outside!"

i mean. i guess it'll technically help you sweat and cool down faster????

(between 8pm and 5am)

"The heat's finally starting to ease off. I want to take a shower, but it's nearly our peak hour..."

Autumn: (September-November) (between 5am and 11am)

"They gave us nothing but useless bottom feeders this year... I'd like to see who raised this bunch of idiots. They don't even have a grasp of basic etiquette."

(between 11am and 4pm)

"I'm going to the training grounds to demonstrate sharpshooting for the first- years. It's a waste of my time, but I'm the most skilled at it."

he just wants everyone to see how good he is lolol

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"The SS collections are out. What? Are you telling me you don't pay attention to Paris Fashion Week?"

(between 8pm and 5am)

"The boss won't stop whining about being hungry. Obviously I'm not going to cook. What are you all standing around for, you damn TGAs!?"

lol Romeo has his underlings feed Taiga as much as Taiga demands food of his own underlings. "please feed your father the boss before he eats one of the chancellor's cats again."

Winter: (December-February) (between 5am and 11am)

"You look like a fat slug in those clothes. Keeping warm is important, but couldn't you at least tough it out when you're meeting me!?"

HARSH. how about you get her outfits then!!! lolol he's looking at you all bundled up and doesn't even wanna be seen with you

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Everywhere is so dry, it's unbearable. I want to go back to my room and moisturize..."

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"I get aches when it's cold... I'm taking off early tonight to go drink, then I'll warm up with a low bath."

'i'm gonna put alcohol in me which will make me feel warm but actually make me colder, then get in the bath for a while' lol

(between 8pm and 5am)

"Tch... This is the most profitable time of year for us, where the hell is that BTH!?

well you see Taiga hates the cold too so he's probably in a blanket burrito. . . .

His birthday: (November 14th)

"Today is Fico's birthday, so you're dining in style. I'm not going to eat any though, so you can finish it off."

'it's my birthday, so i'm going to treat you! what? me? eat?? no, i'm on a diet!!' i am once again asking the ghouls to EAT PROPER MEALS PLEASE IT IS YOUR BIRTHDAY ROMEO HAVE ONE CHEAT DAY. DOESN'T EVEN HAVE TO BE CAKE.

Your birthday:

"It's your birthday? I suppose I can celebrate it for you, but you'd better be aware of how much of my precious time you're using."

he treats you better on his birthday than yours. . . .

New Years: (January 1st)

"Felice anno nuovo! This will be the year I claim Fuji's debt and his pendant!"

oh my god he does speak italian. you hear more tidbits of italian fromTaiga than him. also Kaito's pendant must be super important if that's his new years resolution. this is gonna matter in the long run isn't it.

Valentine's Day: (February 14th)

"Hmph. I'm not familiar with this packaging. If you're giving me chocolate, you better have selected it with the utmost care!"

'this is not brand name. how dare you.'

White Day: (March 14th)

"Here. They're mimosa cookies, a special order from an upmarket confectionary in Ginza. I can't say whether your peasant tastebuds can appreciate them though."

peasant? who are you, jin? fun fact, Taiga's White Day line references this one!

"What's that expectant look on your face? Lulu was harping on about mimosas or something before. That what you want?"

so Romeo gets the cookies whether or not he plans to give you some i guess lol

April Fool's Day: (April 1st)

"Just you try and fool me—I'll tear those rags off you and throw you in a cage. So? What do you want?"

converting your friends into human trafficking victims is the latest new prank sweeping the internet!

Halloween: (October 31st)

"Do you have face paint in your pores!? Go wash it off before you end up with hyperpigmentation!!"

Christmas: (December 25th)

"Buon Natale! Go get ready—that reindeer's around again. This year I'm going to catch it for sure!!"

he's going to auction off one of santa's reindeer. . . .

Idle: (about 20 seconds without interacting with the game) (below 13 affinity)

"Tch... If you don't have any business for me, I'm leaving! You're wasting my precious time!"

(13 affinity and above)

"My drink is empty. Hey! I'm talking to you! Go bring me a refill!"

Absent: (logging in for the first time in 2 or more days?)

"Well, look what the cat dragged in. Do I have to teach you how to maintain an adult relationship? This is your last chance, got it!?"

SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG THE ADHD KICKED IN AND I GOT SUPER DISTRACTED i love Romeo so much he's so. . .silly lmao. he's a very fun character. even though i hate his acronyms. But he's also so worried about his image and his money. . .and as much as he complains I think he worries about Taiga too. And as he comes to like you more he worries about you too. It's just that strictness and maintaining control is how he feels most comfortable and how he expresses his attachments. He trusts you. So he wants you to be able to hold you to a high standard.

[wonderjanga]

Biblical Marvel

This is connected to the Revival post. If you don’t want to go find that, let me give a quick summary of it. In that post, Mary and Freddy die a lot in their Marvel forms. As a result of this, Billy has to revive them a lot. It honestly stresses the poor boy out too because at the end of the Revival post, Billy finds some grey hairs. So, yeah.

Anyways, so people think Marvel is god sent in human form to protect them. (Let me also connect this to the Billy is Really Old post too. In that post, Billy has been a hero since 1940.) It explains why he hasn’t aged over the almost 80 years of him being a hero. Not only that but once, a homeless person asked him to turn water to wine, and he did, though that’s more a of Jesus thing.

Speaking of Jesus, some people think Mary and Junior are Jesus split in two. I mean, Mary has blue eyes (from C.C.) and brown hair (From Marilyn) for Christ’s sake. Not only that but her name is Mary. Maybe Jesus/Mary is honoring his/her mother. And as for Junior, maybe Mary took the looks and he took the gender?

Marvel: *sorting through letters and replying to a bunch of fan mail while sitting at a table in the kitchen.*

Wonder Woman: *Sitting next to him, eating ice cream*

Flash: *zips over and is now leaning on Marvel’s shoulder looking at the fan mail* “Dude, is that fan mail?”

Marvel: “Yup.” *finishes replying to a letter and putting it in the ‘done’ pile*

Flash: “How do even get fan mail? Do they know your address or something?”

Marvel: “Whiz Kid.” *picks up a super fancy looking letter*

WW: “Pardon?”

Marvel: “Whiz Kid. He gets them, and then he gives them to me.” *opens fancy letter*

Flash: “Wait, that little dude who does the radio show?”

Marvel: *Doesn’t like being called little but thinks it would be weird for him to defend himself while in Marvel form* “…Yeah… That ‘little’ dude.” *Takes out letter and reads it before sighing*

WW: “What’s wrong?”

Marvel: “The pope asked me to dinner again.” *sighs again and puts letter down on table to slouch and spin in his chair like a depressed little kid* “Now I gotta think of another excuse.”

WW: “The pope? As in the Catholic pope?” *eats bite of ice cream*

Flash: *looks to WW* “You know who the pope is?”

WW: *looks to Flash* “Yes? Flash, I may be from Themyscira, but I’m not completely ignorant of man’s world.” *looks to Billy* “If you don’t mind me asking, why don’t you want to go?”

Marvel: *shrugs as he slows his spinning to a stop, having came up with an excuse. Picks up letter and starts replying* “I don’t know. Do you want to have dinner with a guy you’ve never met?”

WW: “I see. I suppose not.” *goes back to eating ice cream*

or

Mary: *Watching a show on a TV in Mount Justice*

Robin!Tim: “Mary? Could you help me with something?”

Mary: *pauses show* “Huh? Yeah sure.” *flies over to Tim* “What’s the problem?”

Robin!Tim: *sitting at the kitchen at the counter with a laptop* “Can you tell me everything you know about angels? I’m writing a paper about it for school.”

Mary: “Oh. Uh, sure?” *Proceeds to talk Tim’s ear off for the next 15 minutes about angels and their different types and personalities and such*

Robin!Tim: *finishes paper* “Thanks a lot.” *closes computer and hops off chair*

Mary: “No problem, but why’d you ask me specifically? Why not use the internet?”

Robin!Tim: “Aren’t you like the primary source?” *heads back to his room*

Mary: *confused*

or

*Captain Marvel flies down and asks to pet a woman’s dog when all of a sudden, a mother holding a child runs up to him*

Mother: “Please cure my child!” *holds child out to him* “You can perform one of your miracles, right? Please!”

Marvel: “What?” *looks between Mother and child.*

Child: *looks really sick*

Marvel: *gets concerned at the sick child* “You haven’t taken him to a hospital?”

Mother: “It’s too expensive! Please! Just this once.”

Marvel: “Uuuuuuuuuuuhhhhh…” ‘Solomon! Help me!’

Solomon: ‘Repeat after me, Billy’ *proceeds to rattle off healing spell*

Marvel: *repeats spell and heals child*

Mother: “Oh, thank you! Thank you!” *hugs child tight* “I’ve never been much of a religious nut, but now I’ll have to start believing more. Thank you so much!”

Marvel: *Little confused by sudden mention of religion* “Your welcome? Have a good day, miss.” *floats off the ground, giving her a little wave before flying off*

or

*Freddy is hanging outside one of a meeting rooms in the Watchtower because he wasn’t allowed in due to the face he looked like a kid. He’s now talking to someone on the phone.

Junior: *talking on a phone he magicked from God knows where while floating a foot or two off the ground*

Kid Flash: *bored out of his mind, leaning against a wall, standing next to him cause he also wasn’t allowed in for the same reason*

Junior: *ends call*

Kid Flash: “Who were ya talking too?”

Junior: “My friend, Cain.”

Kid Flash: “What, like bible Cain?” *was joking*

Junior: “Yup.” *didn’t realize he was joking*

Kid Flash: “What seriously? The Cain from the Bible? The Cain that stabbed his brother? The Cain that’s immortal because he stabbed his brother?”

Junior: “Yup.” *starts typing on phone, a little too nonchalant about the conversation*

Kid Flash: “And Cap just lets you be friends with him?”

Junior: “Uh yeah? Why wouldn’t he? You know he’s friends with him too, right?”

Kid Flash: “Wait really? Shouldn’t they hate each other or something?”

Junior: “No? Cain’s pretty chill.”

Kid Flash: *blinks a couple times at that* “Huh.” *he seems a little surprised*

*The meeting ends and the heroes file out of the meeting room before Kid Flash can ask another question*

[quimichi]

NSFW [ SFW if NSFW isn’t okay- ] Malleus Hc? [ male reader if your comfy with tat, if not gn is good too :3 ] ignore if your not taking requests or this isn’t okay-

. . . . . . . . . ╰──╮MY DEAREST ╭──╯ . . . . . . . . .

(N)SFW MALLEUS BF HCS

Malleus x Gn!Reader

A/n: I do male reader, but since you said gn reader is fine too I did gn reader! I hope it's ok but obviously I can still do a male reader ♡

SFW

: ̗̀➛ first of all, damn you're lucky like---

: ̗̀➛ the fact that you're now in a relationship with the most powerful being of the school is mad scary for so many. After all, you're just a magicless human.

: ̗̀➛ but you are so much more to Malleus himself, and he takes a pot of pride in being your partner, boyfriend sounds so...weird to him

: ̗̀➛ Lilia btw is a super proud mom

: ̗̀➛ i have the add the adorable gargoyle stuff because it's a Malleus thing. He always takes his time and is open minded to youe interest, so obviously you are too! Whatever it might be he will try and study it to understand you better

: ̗̀➛ please help him tho, he may get a little lost in places of the internet if he ever trys to learn more on there

: ̗̀➛ insist on you two sleeping together. And INSISTS that you and Grim move to his dorm, his room to be specific, because the conditions you live in? We don't talk about them---

: ̗̀➛ once he got a taste of cuddling, it was over for you. He can and will get clingy at night, pulling you into his chest so he can hold you

: ̗̀➛ very protective and somehow greedy. Your attention is his, his animalistic dragon side may come out there but you can deal with it, so far that is-

: ̗̀➛ gets you way to expensive presents, mostly with pretty gems. Things like jewelry, or even other decorative pieces. All in your favorite color(s)

: ̗̀➛ loves to take late night walks with you, having your arms linked while slowly walking beside each other enjoying not only the atmosphere but each other's company

: ̗̀➛ will also read to you if you ever ask for it. Having you falling asleep right there in his arms ro his soothing voice really does sound like a dream

: ̗̀➛ lol he literally told Sebek to also protect you from any harm that comes if he can't be around you (which is like so rare he's glued to your side)

: ̗̀➛ baby can't use his phone right and would think that if he speaks to his phone with the chat open it will magically send the text to you, like you always do with voice mails---

: ̗̀➛ or he has his front camera open and doesn't know how to turn the view so he literally turns the whole phone and trys to blindly press the button

: ̗̀➛ he's so cute stfu

NSFW

: ̗̀➛ this guy is huge like---massive. You have to be around his size to really take it down good-

: ̗̀➛ rip to my fellow small people out there

: ̗̀➛ obviously he gives off big dick energy and this is what he has, a big dick. Like 9 inches, in cm that would be 22

: ̗̀➛ it's average in thickness but the length...damn: ̗̀➛ like i said before very protective, also meaning possessive. He will mark you up, with his smell and with any other sign he can. That's why he gets you the jewelry too. And also hickey's

: ̗̀➛ if you dont like those, he won't do any of them he respects you to much for this to push you into anything that you are not willing to at least try. Same with showing them, if you don't like people to know this way, he is very okay with this

: ̗̀➛ since he does love and respect you a lot, like literally adore and being obsessed with you, you will have the final word of anything. He is willing to try everything out of curiosity and will maybe bring something up himself, but won't MAKE you do anything. A no is a no after all

: ̗̀➛ so a no for him is definitely degration, like sry people who like it but no-

: ̗̀➛ [FEM REDER] a little yandere but would baby trap you at some point in life cause he knocks you up all the time with everything he has. So in the end, you are truly only his

: ̗̀➛ [MALE READER] would also let you take control once in a while. Yes, he is dominant for 99% but if you are also, just ask and take control he won't bite unless you want to, bite back even. Literally ruin this man's insides he will love it ♡

: ̗̀➛ seeing you so...rounded with his cum just makes him keep going, if you let him

: ̗̀➛ also, belly bulge. It's hypnotizing seeing himself going in and out of you, in and out...

: ̗̀➛ can go for so many rounds, because the Stamina he has is insane. Like he turns when you star begging for his dick inside you

: ̗̀➛ really loves to hear you, he knows you're obsessed with his voice but so is he with yours. He won't only whisper those dirty but also sweet things into your ear, making you weak. He wil also make you say things you were never expecting to say, without him forcing you. Same with the noises he can draw out

: ̗̀➛ He makes you shameless without even realizing it and it makes his brain go brrr

: ̗̀➛ to a point where Lilia heard it more than once-