#plus the projections on buildings was fun | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jetii · 3 months ago

Text

On Impulse

Pairing: Tech x fem!Reader

Words: 10,703

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! friends to lovers, kind of enemies to lovers? but in a goofy silly way, Tech's autism rizz, fluff, arguing as a form of flirting, smut, thigh riding, unprotected sex, fingering, semi-public sex, naked female clothed male

Summary: You've made it your personal mission to convince Tech that letting loose and taking risks for the sake of fun can be a good thing. During your day off on Coruscant, your efforts are unexpectedly rewarded.

A/N: There's no excuse for this I just love writing feral Tech. Also wow! 400 followers! Hello! Thanks for being here.

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist

Tech knows he can be a little... much.

It's not really his fault. The Kaminoans who designed him and his brothers didn't really think to account for things like social awareness, or tact, or "when not to talk." All they programmed him with was an insatiable thirst for information and a single-minded desire to be useful.

The others in the squad had been able to pick things up on the way, seeming to possess a natural sense for the sort of thing one says or does at any given time. Tech, though, just doesn't have that. He has a brain that's constantly running and processing data, and an all-consuming need to do something about it.

So he can't help it that his mouth tends to get away from him when he's excited. The information just comes pouring out.

His brothers call it a data dump.

The Kaminoans call it an unfortunate defect in his otherwise exceptional programming.

But you call it charming.

"And furthermore," Tech is ranting, following you as you walk through the halls of the Senate building, “the use of such a heavy gauge power coupling is inefficient and a waste of valuable resources which could be better spent in other areas. The new couplings are half the size, and can be manufactured on-planet instead of having to be shipped from across the galaxy."

"Not my fault if you were wrong, Tech," you toss over your shoulder at him, smirking as he splutters in offense.

"Wrong?!" he repeats, sounding aghast at the mere suggestion. "I don't think so."

You roll your eyes, but there's a fond smile on your lips. Tech is a genius, really, he is. But his ego is sometimes as big as his brain, and you love to wind him up a bit.

He gets so flustered and huffy and cute when you do, and you can't resist. He's just too adorable not to tease a little. So you keep walking, even though you've long ago lost track of where you're actually going.

"I mean, I can admit when I'm wrong," you go on, slowing your pace just a bit. "It's a sign of a healthy psyche."

Tech scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest, and you bite back a laugh. He's wearing his full armor, minus his helmet, and it only adds to the ridiculousness of the moment. The two of you are quite the duo, sticking out like a pair of sore thumbs among the throngs of politicians and Senators going about their daily business.

You'd thought this outing would be something fun, an opportunity to get Tech out of the Marauder for a bit. You know that he gets antsy, and he loves nothing more than a good lecture or an impromptu lesson.

Plus, it was your off day, and you wanted to spend some time with him, since you knew he was only planning to hole up in his bunk and work on fixing up some broken circuit board or another. Not the most thrilling way to spend an afternoon.

And you can't even count the number of times you've come back to the Marauder, only to find him elbow-deep in some project, surrounded by scrap parts and wires and tools and completely oblivious to the world.

That's fine, though, really. It's just who he is, and you know better than to interrupt, but you can't deny you like it better when his brain is occupied with you instead.

The way he lights up when he gets the chance to talk about whatever is on his mind is endearing, and you love listening to him speak. You'll take Tech the lecturer over Tech the hermit any day.

So, you'd come to the Senate to let him geek out. One of your friends was an assistant to a Senator, and you'd asked if you could give Tech a tour. It was more of a chance for Tech to give you a tour, actually, because you were clueless, and he knew exactly where to go and what to see. But he doesn't know that.

What had started out as your attempt at tricking Tech into a date has quickly turned into another argument, but that's nothing new between the two of you.

It's become your routine, something you've done since the first time you met. You and Tech bickering about this and that, teasing and mocking each other but with a light in your eyes and a smile on your faces. Sometimes it feels like it's the only way the two of you communicate.

You can't even remember now what the first fight had been about. But you know that he had said something blunt and off-hand, and you'd gotten offended and given him a piece of your mind. He'd argued back, and the two of you had gone back and forth until you had run out of steam.

It's what always happens.

But you had seen a glimmer of something in Tech's eyes that day, and when he'd started arguing back, there had been a spark there. It wasn't boredom, or apathy. It was excitement, passion, a fire in him that you had never seen in anyone else before.

He had liked it.

You had, too.

And that's when the real games had started.

It's not the same now. You've gotten used to each other, and you can tell when he's trying to rile you up. He does the same thing every time. He'll say something rude, or condescending, and you'll shoot him a dirty look and a sharp comment. Then, he'll say something even more rude and condescending, and then, finally, you'll lose your temper, and the two of you will bicker and banter until the both of you have worked through whatever is bothering you.

It's kind of like therapy.

Or foreplay.

Maybe a little of both.

And now, here the two of you are, doing it again. You're wandering the halls, not even paying attention to where you're going anymore. You're far too distracted by the way Tech's brow is furrowing in concentration as he thinks of how to prove himself right, and the way his nose is wrinkling in irritation at your constant teasing.

You're both enjoying this a little too much.

"I assure you, my psyche is perfectly healthy," Tech is saying as he follows behind you, and you grin at him over your shoulder.

"I don't know, Tech," you taunt. "I can't help but notice how much you love being right. That sounds like a classic case of an inflated ego to me."

He scoffs.

"My ego is perfectly sized, thank you," he tells you, his tone haughty. "It's not my fault that my intelligence is far superior to the vast majority of beings in the galaxy."

"Oh, and humble, too," you add, rolling your eyes. "My mistake."

He ignores your quip, still following you down the corridor, his steps slowing just a bit.

"Where are we going, anyway?" he asks, peering at you curiously. "This isn't the way back to the hangar."

You smirk, stopping in your tracks and turning to face him. Tech nearly runs into you, stopping short at the last moment, and the two of you stand only inches apart, your face turned up to his. He's almost a full foot taller than you, and the way he's staring down at you makes your heart beat a little faster. He's not smiling, not really, but you can see the amusement in his eyes.

"We're not going back to the hangar," you inform him, and his expression changes to one of confusion.

"Then where are we going?"

You don't answer. Instead, you grab him by the wrist, pulling him after you as you continue walking. "I have something else in mind."

He stumbles after you, tripping over his own feet in his hurry to keep up with your sudden change of pace.

"Where are we going?" he repeats, his tone slightly higher than usual. He sounds flustered, and you can't help the little laugh that slips past your lips.

"You'll see," is all you say.

He grumbles, but follows along nonetheless, allowing you to tug him after you.

"We don't have time for detours," he tries.

"We made a detour for power couplings, didn't we?" you counter. "What's the difference?"

"A power coupling is a necessary component of the Marauder's hyperdrive," he protests. "A 'detour' is merely a waste of time."

"But the ones we had were just fine," you argue, still pulling him along.

"Just fine is not good enough," he replies. "I will prove it to you. Once I have the new couplings installed, I will run a simulation, and you will see how much more efficiently the Marauder will perform. You will admit that I was correct."

You can't help but laugh at his self-assurance.

"If you say so," you tease.

"I do say so," he counters. "I am a man of science, and I always back up my claims with evidence. If I say something is fact, it is a fact."

You snicker again, and Tech glares down at you.

"You can be rather vexing," he says with a sigh of resignation.

"I try."

He rolls his eyes, but you catch the hint of a smile on his lips.

"I'm sure you do," he mutters, and you bite back a grin.

You love teasing Tech, but not just him. You like doing it to the others, too, especially when they least expect it. You have a reputation for being sweet and innocent and nice, but the truth is, you can be just as devious as the rest of them when you want to be.

You just choose your targets more carefully, and Tech is the perfect victim.

He's so serious, and so uptight, and so easy to get worked up. It's a challenge, keeping up with him and his constant rants and lectures, but you're nothing if not determined, and you have a lot of fun doing it.

But your favorite is the way Tech will get so frustrated and worked up, and then, once he's exhausted himself, and he knows that you're not going to change your mind, he'll start grumbling. And pouting.

And it's just the cutest thing in the world.

You don't mean to upset him, or anything, but the way he puffs up like an angry bird when you challenge him is just adorable, and you can't help yourself. You just can't stop.

And if the way he's looking at you is any indication, he can't stop, either.

"Oh, come on, Tech," you chuckle. "Lighten up a bit. Today is supposed to be fun. We're on Coruscant, there's nothing dangerous happening, and the weather is actually nice for a change. Just try and enjoy yourself a little."

"I am enjoying myself," he argues.

"By arguing with me?" you counter.

Tech looks down at you, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. He doesn't look as irritated anymore, and there's a twinkle in his eyes that tells you that he's having a good time. He's enjoying himself, despite his protests, and he knows that you're onto him.

"Yes. I enjoy our debates," he answers simply. He pauses, then adds, "Though I would hardly consider it a debate. It is a mere fact that the new couplings are better than the old ones."

You roll your eyes, and Tech's lips twitch at the gesture. There's a warmth that spreads through your chest when you see him like this, happy and relaxed. You like seeing him smile, and you like it even more when it's because of you.

"Sure, sure," you placate him. "Whatever you say, Tech."

"That is what I say," he confirms, and you can't help but laugh.

"Okay, well, whatever."

"I win, then?"

"Fine," you sigh, pretending to be put out. "You win."

He smiles, smug and self-satisfied. "Of course I do."

You snort, rolling your eyes again, and he just keeps grinning. He looks so proud of himself, and you can't help but feel a surge of affection for him. You like this side of Tech, the one that's playful and teasing and fun. It's a side that not many people get to see, and you can't help but feel lucky that you're the one he shows it to.

You like this, the two of you together, alone, no one around to hear your conversations or watch the way you look at each other. There's something intimate about it, something that makes your stomach flutter and your heart beat a little faster.

It's different, when it's just the two of you. The arguments and banter are still there, but there's something else, too, something warm and gentle and special. You want to drag this moment out as long as possible, and you intend to.

"So, where are we going, then?" he asks, and you bite your lip, trying to hide your smirk.

"Nowhere," you say, and he gives you a puzzled look. "Or, well, nowhere interesting."

"Then why did we take the detour?" he asks, and you can hear the curiosity in his voice. He's not annoyed or angry or irritated. He's genuinely interested in what you're doing, and why. It makes you smile.

"Because, Tech," you explain, "sometimes, it's the journey that's important, not the destination."

He cocks his head to the side, considering your words.

"But if the destination is not important, then why bother going at all?" he asks. "What is the point of the journey, if not the destination?"

You can't help but laugh again. He's so literal sometimes. You've tried explaining the concept of "just because" to him, but it's a hard concept for him to grasp. There is no rhyme or reason to some things, no logic or scientific explanation. Some things just are. They're fun, or beautiful, or special. And sometimes, that's reason enough to do them.

You tell him as much, and Tech rolls his eyes. He doesn't believe you. He can't understand why you'd do something for no reason at all. But you know that he's listening. He's still following along with you, and there's no indication that he wants to leave.

"So you just wanted to wander around the Senate?" he asks, and you nod. "Why?"

"I don't know," you admit. "I just wanted to. And I thought it might be nice to do something together. You and me."

He looks at you for a moment, a thoughtful expression on his face. There's a softness to his features, and his eyes are warm behind his goggles. It's a look that you've only ever seen him give you.

Sometimes when Tech looks at you, you feel like a bug under a microscope, like he's dissecting and cataloguing your every move. It's unnerving, and it makes your stomach twist with anxiety. But sometimes, like right now, he looks at you like he's seeing something new and wonderful, like you're a mystery he's trying to solve.

You don't mind it so much when he looks at you like that.

"It is...nice," he admits after a moment, his voice quiet. "Being together."

He says the words carefully, almost hesitantly, and you can see a slight flush creeping up his cheeks underneath his goggles.

You smile at him.

"It is, isn't it?"

You're still holding onto his wrist, and you slide your hand down to meet his, your fingers intertwining with his own. Tech doesn't pull away, and he doesn't seem surprised, or uncomfortable. He just lets it happen, and a soft, shy smile appears on his lips, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand.

"I—"

Whatever Tech was about to say is cut off by a shout from behind him. Both of you jump, and Tech whips around to face the source of the sound. He steps in front of you, instinctively shielding you with his body, his free hand going to the blaster on his hip. You can feel his muscles tensing, and his grip on your hand tightens.

You peer over his shoulder and see a Corrie Guard, one of Fox's men, coming down the hall toward the two of you. Your blood runs cold.

"Hey!" he shouts. "This is a restricted area."

Tech glances at you over his shoulder. "It is?"

"Oops," you mutter back. "Guess we better get out of here."

The two of you turn and bolt down the hall. You can hear the guard's boots pounding behind you, and Tech's fingers are still interlaced with yours. Laughter is bubbling up inside of you, a mix of adrenaline and nervous energy. Tech lets out an amused huff, and the two of you turn the corner.

You nearly slam into another group of troopers, and Tech pulls you out of the way, keeping a firm grip on your hand. You barrel past the guards, who shout in alarm as they see the first guard chasing the two of you.

It's chaos, and the laughter spills out of you as Tech drags you through the maze of halls and corridors. The sound of your feet and the guards' boots echoes off the walls, and Tech is pulling you along behind him, not letting go. You can see the smile on his face, even as he turns and yells at you.

"Why are they chasing us?!"

"No idea!" you shout back, laughing.

"We should not be doing this!"

"Too late!"

The two of you sprint through the building, twisting and turning down hallways, the sound of the guards' footsteps following close behind.

"Tech! Over here!"

There's a door at the end of the hall, and it's unguarded. The two of you make a beeline for it, and you're both panting by the time you reach it. Tech slams his hand against the access panel, and the door slides open. He shoves you inside, and you have to duck under his arm before he follows close behind.

"Where are we?!" he asks, looking around.

You shrug, breathless, and he looks at you incredulously.

"We're in a closet," he says, and you can't help but giggle.

The room is dark, empty, and quiet. It’s also extremely cramped, and there's barely enough space for the two of you. The closet is clearly built for a maintenance droid, and the shelves are lined with cleaning supplies.

It's a tight fit, and you're pressed close together, chests heaving as you try to catch your breath. Tech is forced to bend down toward you to avoid hitting his head on the shelves above you, and his nose is practically touching yours.

"This is not an ideal hiding place," he complains. “It's not defensible. If they find us here, we'll be trapped."

"I know." You sigh, looking up at him. "I'm not an idiot."

"But you are the one who pulled me in here," he points out.

"Well, we had to get out of sight, didn't we?" you argue. "They were right behind us."

He shakes his head, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You are unbelievable."

"I'll take that as a compliment," you say, and you can hear his amused huff.

"You would," he murmurs, his tone dry.

"What are they gonna do?" you ask, looking up at him with a smirk. "Arrest us? For taking a shortcut?"

"I don't know why you're being so difficult about this," he grumbles. “We—mmph!”

Your free hand clasps over his mouth, silencing him. Tech's eyes widen behind his goggles, and he blinks at you in surprise. His other hand is still holding yours, and the two of you are standing so close together that you can feel the warmth of his body through his armor.

"Quiet," you hiss, and he gives you a look that is part exasperation, part amusement.

You keep your hand over his mouth, and the two of you stand there in the dark, the only sounds the hum of the ventilation system and the muffled footsteps of the guards outside. Your heart beats wildly in your chest as you stay as still as you can, and the feeling of Tech's lips beneath your palm is sending tingles down your spine.

You can feel his breath, warm and uneven, and you're suddenly hyper-aware of every inch of him that's touching you. Your fingers drag along the curve of his jaw, catching on the stubble there, and he shivers. It's barely noticeable, but you feel it, and you can't help the flush that creeps up your neck as you pull your hand away.

Tech's eyes are still wide, and his lips are parted, but he stays silent. He straightens, shifting a bit in the tight space, and you can feel his chest brush against yours. You can smell the leather of his armor, and the faint scent of grease and soap that lingers on his skin.

He's so close.

His leg is wedged between yours, and his body is radiating warmth. You're practically plastered to him, and every part of him that's touching you feels like it's burning. The hand that's holding yours is trembling, just a bit, and the closeness of the space, the heat, and the adrenaline from the chase are making your head spin. And you can't seem to stop staring at his mouth.

The voices in the hallway grow louder, and the two of you tense as you listen. They're right outside the door, and you suck in a sharp breath.

"Maybe they went the other way," someone is saying.

"They couldn't have gone far," another voice replies.

Tech's free hand comes up to rest on the shelf next to your head, bracing himself as he looms over you. His eyes are fixed on the door, and his brow is furrowed, a small frown on his face. You know he's probably running through a million different scenarios in his head, calculating the odds of each one, weighing the options and possible outcomes.

You know he's trying to figure out a way to get the two of you out of this, a plan, an escape route, something. Meanwhile, all you can seem to think about is how soft his lips look, and the way they had felt, warm and gentle against your hand.

"Let's just radio Fox and let him deal with it," a guard says. "I don't get paid enough to run around the Senate."

"We don't get paid at all," the other retorts.

"Exactly."

Tech adjusts his stance again, trying to get a better angle on the door. The motion presses his thigh harder between your legs, directly against your center. The touch sends a shock of arousal through you, and you have to bite your lip to keep from gasping aloud, praying he doesn't notice.

Of course, he does.

Tech snaps his head to look down at you, his eyes locking with yours, and you can see the surprise written all over his face. His lips part slightly, and his gaze flickers down to where your bodies are connected, then back up to your face.

You can see the moment realization dawns on him, and the way his pupils dilate behind his goggles is unmistakable.

"We'll search this side," someone is saying.

"They've gotta be around here somewhere."

You can barely hear them over the sound of your pulse pounding in your ears. You swallow thickly, and Tech's eyes dart to your throat, his lips parting a bit more. He looks a bit dazed, like he can't believe what just happened. Or maybe he can't believe the effect it's had on him.

You're having a hard time believing it yourself.

Tech is never one to be lost for words, or speechless, but now, he doesn't say a thing. His eyes are fixed on yours, and he's so close to you that you can see the flecks of gold in his eyes. He looks like he's about to say something, but then thinks better of it, his lips pressing together.

"Do you think they went upstairs?"

"Nah, it's too risky. They're probably still on this level."

Tech lets out a shaky sigh, his hand flexing against the shelf. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and his eyes flutter closed before he takes a deep breath, and then his leg is moving up against you again, and this time, it's deliberate.

A small, choked gasp slips past your lips, your hand squeezing his, and Tech's eyes fly open.

You know you should say something, or do something, but you can't seem to form words, or even a coherent thought, really. All you can focus on is the way his leg is rubbing against you, sending sparks of pleasure through your entire body with every minuscule twitch.

Tech's breath hitches, and his grip on the shelf tightens. He's watching your reaction closely, his eyes roaming over your face. He's testing you, you realize, seeing what you'll do, how you'll react.

You don't move, and the pressure against your core increases, just a little, but it's enough. A whimper escapes you, and Tech's nostrils flare. You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, and you're pretty sure you're the color of a sun-ripe pomfruit.

"Tech," you whisper, your voice coming out husky and breathless.

He doesn't say a word, his eyes boring into yours, his leg still moving, ever so slightly, against you. The guards are arguing now, but neither of you are paying attention. There's nothing but the two of you and this tiny, dark closet, and the friction that's building between you.

"Tech," you breathe again, a little louder this time.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips again, and his eyes flutter shut as he lets out a shaky breath. He's enjoying this, you realize. He's getting off on it. And the thought makes a fresh wave of arousal rush through you.

Tech is not usually an impulsive person. He's meticulous and precise and methodical. Everything he does is calculated, planned. He's not spontaneous, and he doesn't do things without thinking them through first. But right now, he's acting on instinct, and he doesn't seem to care about the consequences.

And the thought is making you feel things that are definitely not appropriate for this particular situation.

Another insistent brush against your core, and you're done for.

"Fuck," you whimper, your hips rolling forward into the contact. Your free hand shoots out and grabs his shoulder, giving you leverage as you press yourself harder against his thigh.

Tech makes a strangled sound, somewhere between a moan and a whimper, and his fingers curl harder around the edge of the shelf above you. The metal groans and bends under his grip.

The two of you are lost in a haze of pleasure and desire, your bodies moving together, desperately seeking more friction, more pressure, more contact. Tech is panting now, his breath coming in harsh, uneven gasps, and the sound is like music to your ears. He's always so in control, so put-together, but now, he's completely undone.

You can't stop staring at him, drinking in the sight of him, and his eyes are locked on yours, too. You're close, so close, and Tech must be able to tell because he's grinding his leg against you faster. The hand that was holding yours has moved to your hip, and he's pulling you closer, tighter, helping you grind against him.

His goggles are fogging up, and he's got that look on his face, the one he always gets when he's working on something. But this time, it's not the Marauder's circuitry or a busted datapad, it's you, and the realization makes your blood burn hot.

The voices outside the door are still going, but they're faint and distant, moving farther away, the words nothing but a meaningless buzz in the back of your mind. All that matters right now is the way Tech's thigh is rubbing against you, and the heat pooling in your core.

"Tech—"

Your words are cut off by a whimper, his name coming out like a plea, and you can't help the way your hips are jerking, seeking more contact. Your fingers are digging into his shoulder, and he's practically shaking, his breaths coming out in ragged gasps.

"I can't—" he gasps. "I can't think like this."

"Don't," you choke out, your voice trembling. "Don't think. Just...just..."

You're not even sure what you're asking him for, but you don't need to say anything else. He knows.

The pressure against your center increases, his leg rubbing harder, faster, and you can't hold back anymore. Your climax washes over you like a tidal wave, and your knees nearly give out, only Tech's firm grip on your hip holding you upright.

You barely make a sound before he's crushing his lips against yours, swallowing your moans and whimpers, his own muffled grunts echoing in your ears.

You cling to him, riding out the aftershocks of your release, and his mouth is hot and insistent against yours, his tongue stroking against yours. He's warm and soft and sweet, and he tastes like caf and something else that is distinctly Tech. His kisses are hungry, and his hands are roaming, and you're not sure if you're dreaming or if this is actually happening.

Tech kissing you. Tech, who has barely even touched you before today, who has avoided any and all physical contact with you since the moment you met, who has never, ever, shown any kind of interest in you, is kissing you, his hands and mouth and tongue setting your nerves on fire.

And all because of an impulsive idea, an accident.

You should stop. You know you should stop, but you can't bring yourself to.

"Tech—" you breathe, and his mouth moves to your jaw, kissing and licking and biting at the sensitive skin there. You're practically melting under his touch, your fingers carding through his hair, tugging gently. "Tech, the guards—"

"I know.”

He sounds just as wrecked as you do, his voice raw and husky, and you can't believe this is happening.

"We—"

Your words are cut off by his mouth again, and you're panting and writhing against him. His hands are on your ass, and he lifts you, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist. The shelves shake and rattle as he presses you against the wall, and the new position allows him to grind his codpiece against your heat, the feeling making you both groan into each other's mouths.

You've never wanted anything more than you want him right now, and the desperation in his kisses is telling you that he feels the same way.

"Tech," you whimper.

"I know," he breathes, his lips moving against yours.

The guards' voices are fading, growing quieter and more distant, but neither of you notice. You're both too lost in each other, in the feeling of finally, finally, giving in to the tension that's been building between you for weeks, months even.

"Tech—"

"I know," he says again, kissing you harder, deeper.

The guards' voices are gone, now, and the only sounds are the hum of the ventilation system, the creak of the shelves, and the wet, desperate noises of the two of you devouring each other.

"We have to—we can't—" you manage, and he pulls back, his mouth moving to your neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses across your skin.

"I know," Tech breathes, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down your spine. "We can't. This is—"

His hips buck, and he presses himself harder against you, making you both moan.

"This is dangerous," he finishes, his mouth moving lower, to the sensitive spot just below your ear.

"It's wrong," you gasp, but your fingers are tangling in his hair, and you're tilting your head to give him better access. "We can't let anyone find out about this."

"No," he says, his teeth nipping at your throat. "No one can know. If the others found out, they'd never let us hear the end of it."

You shudder, and his hands are everywhere, roaming, grabbing, groping, and his lips are tracing patterns across your skin. You're not sure if he's trying to prove a point or not, but you can't stop the little gasps and moans that are falling from your mouth.

"What—what are we gonna tell them?" you ask, your voice breathless and shaky.

"I don't know," he groans, his hands sliding down to the backs of your thighs, squeezing hard. "I can't think."

You laugh, the sound coming out as a desperate, breathless thing. "Me either."

His mouth is on yours again, and he kisses you fiercely, hungrily, like he can't get enough. Your hands are in his hair, tugging and pulling and holding him to you, and his hips are bucking against yours, grinding his codpiece against you. It's not enough, and you need more, but you can't take it. You're too wound up, and the friction is delicious torture.

You grab his face in both hands, forcing him to look at you. His eyes are wild, his pupils blown wide, and he looks like he's going to come apart at the seams.

"Tech," you gasp. "Tech, please."

"Yes?" he asks, his voice rough and strained.

"I want you," you admit. "I want this. I want you, right now."

He groans, his fingers digging into your hips, and his forehead drops to yours.

"I want this, too," he breathes, his voice barely a whisper.

You're clinging to him, and his mouth is on yours, and it's all a blur, a mess of tongues and teeth and moans. You're clawing at his armor, and he's tugging at your clothes, and there's barely any space left between the two of you. It's a frenzy, a frenetic energy, and you're both chasing the same thing, the same end goal.

Tech's fingers slip beneath the waistband of your pants, and he tugs, his movements jerky and uncoordinated. His hand is fumbling, clumsy, and you know he's not used to this. He's not used to the intimacy, or the desperation, or the lack of control. He's not used to being this wound up, and it's showing.

It's cute.

He's cute.

He's so fucking cute, and you have no idea what you're going to do with him.

You don't know where it comes from, or who started it, but suddenly, you're both laughing, a mixture of nerves and excitement and relief. You're smiling, and he's smiling, and you're just so happy, and so overwhelmed, and you're not sure if you've ever been this happy before.

Tech gives up on the clasp, and instead, he tugs off his glove with his teeth and shoves his hand down the front of your pants, his bare skin hot against your flesh. His fingers slide between your folds, and the moment they meet the wetness there, you're both moaning.

You can feel his fingers stroking you, rubbing at your clit, and your hips jerk, bucking against him.

"You feel incredible," he murmurs, and the sound of his voice, all breathless and awestruck, sends a shiver down your spine.

"You—ah, fuck," you gasp, unable to continue as his fingers swirl over your sensitive bundle of nerves.

He smirks, and he looks so goddamn smug, so satisfied, and you're pretty sure you've never been more turned on in your life.

"Tech," you whine, and he chuckles, a low, deep sound that sends a tremor through your body.

"Is this good?" he asks, his voice teasing, and you can't help but giggle.

"You know it is," you manage, and he grins.

"I do," he says. "I just wanted to hear you say it."

He's still smirking, and you roll your eyes, even as he slips a finger inside of you. You're panting, and your hands are scrabbling at his chest plate, trying to find purchase. He's got you pinned, and you're practically hanging from him, your thighs locked around his waist.

"Tech," you gasp, and his hand is working, pumping in and out of you.

"I can't believe how wet you are," he mutters. "I've barely even touched you."

"I'm not usually like this," you argue. "It's—mm, fuck—it's just you."

He moans, his forehead dropping against yours. "You have no idea what that does to me."

"Show me," you reply, and his grip on your hip tightens, his fingers flexing against your skin.

"I will," he promises. "I will."

You can feel his breath on your face, hot and uneven, and his mouth is so close, his lips brushing against yours.

"Just—fuck, Tech, just fuck me," you plead. "Please."

He lets out a ragged groan as he pulls his hand away, and you nearly sob at the loss. You can feel him fumbling with his belt, his other hand holding you up, and he's cursing, his fingers shaking.

"Why—why are these damn things so—ugh!"

He finally manages to undo his belt, and it hits the floor with a thud, the ridiculous amount of pouches and gadgets clattering to the ground. The sound makes you laugh, and he shoots you a glare.

"Stop that," he chides. "This is a serious matter."

"I'm sorry," you gasp, barely able to contain your mirth. "It's just—the sound!"

He rolls his eyes, but his lips are twitching, and his fingers are back on his codpiece, fumbling with the clasps.

"I will never understand why you need so much equipment," you tease, and he scoffs.

"The amount of equipment I carry has nothing to do with my ability to—"

"Just take it off, Tech," you groan. "I'm dying here."

He glares at you, but the effect is ruined by the flush that's creeping up his neck. You can't help but smile at the sight.

"I'm trying," he huffs, "but I can't do anything when you're distracting me."

"Sorry," you apologize, biting your lip.

Tech gives you a look, but his attention is already back on his codpiece, and his fingers are flying over the clasps. He's got a look of intense concentration on his face, and he's practically vibrating with impatience. You undo the buttons on your shirt, tugging it down and exposing your chest, and Tech's gaze flickers over to you, his lips parting as his eyes travel down your body.

"That is not helping," he mutters, and you laugh, leaning back and bracing yourself against the shelves.

"Maybe if you had less equipment, it would be easier to get out of it," you tease, and he lets out an irritated huff.

"If I had less equipment, I wouldn't be able to do half the things I do."

"True," you concede, a grin on your face. "And then I wouldn't be nearly as interested in you."

He looks up at you, his eyes wide, and the corner of his mouth turns up in a half-smile.

"Are you trying to tell me something?" he asks, his voice soft and teasing.

"Maybe," you say, biting your lip.

He doesn't say anything, just stares at you, and his expression is so earnest and sincere that it makes your heart flutter. He closes his eyes and shakes his head, letting out a huff of laughter.

"You are," he says, his voice quiet. "You're telling me that you're interested in me."

"Well, duh," you laugh. "Why else would I have dragged you along today?"

He doesn't say anything, but you can see the flush on his cheeks darken.

"You're such a dork," you tease.

"And you are the most infuriating, confusing, aggravating, and fascinating person I've ever met," he replies as his eyes open again, his gaze locking with yours.

"That's one hell of a compliment."

"It's a fact."

You're not sure what to make of the sincerity in his tone. You're not sure what to make of any of this. It's not exactly what you'd planned, but you can't help the thrill that's running through you.

"I have no idea what I'm going to do with you," Tech says, and the fondness in his voice makes your heart swell.

He finally gets his codpiece undone, and it falls to the floor with a clang. You can't help but glance down at his groin, and you see his erection straining against his blacks.

"I have a few ideas," you murmur, and he lets out a strangled laugh.

"So do I."

Tech sets you down on the floor, and your legs are shaky, but he keeps you steady, his hands on your hips. His hands hook into the waistband of your pants, and you can feel his knuckles brushing against your skin as he tugs them down. It’s an agonizingly slow process, and the anticipation is making your blood pound in your veins.

"Force," he hisses as your underwear sticks to your skin, the fabric clinging to your slick folds.

"You did this to me," you say, your voice trembling. "It's your fault."

"I'm willing to take the blame," he replies, his eyes locked on your cunt.

He pulls your pants down, and you step out of them, your shirt still hanging open. You're bare before him, and he's still fully dressed, the plastoid armor covering almost every inch of his skin. You're about to ask him to take something else off when his hands are on you again, gripping your ass and lifting you up.

You let out a startled yelp as he pins you against the wall, his hands spreading your thighs and holding them apart. You can feel the hard line of his cock pressing against you, separated only by the thin fabric of his blacks, and you can't stop the moan that spills from your lips.

"I want you so much," he breathes, his hips thrusting, the friction making you cry out. "I want this, so much, and it's—"

"Tech," you gasp. "Don't stop."

"I want to take my time," he says. "I want to do this properly. I want to do this right, but I can't, not right now."

"Tech," you plead. "It's okay."

He lets out a frustrated groan, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass.

"This isn't—we shouldn't—"

"Tech," you gasp. "It's okay."

You grab his face, forcing him to look at you, and his eyes are wild, frantic.

"We can take our time later," you whisper. "We can take all the time in the world, but right now, I need you, okay? I need you, and we don't have time."

He shudders, and his cock twitches against your heat, making you moan.

"We can take this slow, later," you promise, and his eyes search yours, looking for any hint of uncertainty. He must not find any, because he nods, and the tension drains from his body.

"Okay," he says, his voice shaky. "Okay."

His hips rock, and you whimper as his clothed erection slides between your folds, the friction making you tremble. You're practically drenched, and you can feel the slickness dripping down your thighs, soaking the front of his blacks. He's not doing any better, his cock throbbing and straining against the fabric.

"Fuck," he hisses.

"Yes, that," you groan.

“You’re impossible," he growls, his hand moving to pull down his blacks. His cock springs free, and the sight of it, thick and heavy and dripping, makes your mouth water.

"And you're taking too long," you shoot back, your fingers curling around his length.

He's hard and silky soft, and his skin is feverishly hot, and the feeling of him, so hard and desperate, makes you moan. You drag your fingers along his shaft, tracing the vein, and his hips buck. He's panting, his eyes fixed on your hand as you pump his cock, and you can feel his muscles twitching and trembling.

"I'm not going to last," he gasps.

"Good," you reply, guiding his cock toward your entrance. "I don't want you to."

You can feel the head of his cock brushing against your slit, and you both moan. He's leaking, and his pre-cum is mixing with your arousal, slicking him up and easing the way. You can feel him sliding through your folds, teasing you, and it's driving you wild.

He pushes forward, his hips jerking, and you both moan as the head of his cock slips inside. You’re about to tell him to keep going when he slams into you, his entire length sheathing itself in your cunt in one swift thrust.

The cry that falls from your lips is muffled by Tech’s mouth as he captures yours, swallowing the sound. He's so big, and the sudden intrusion is almost painful, but the pleasure is overwhelming, and you cling to him, fingers scrambling for purchase on his shoulders.

His hands are bruising your thighs, and his hips are stuttering, the rhythm uneven and sloppy. There’s not much room to move, but he manages, thrusting shallowly, grinding his hips against yours.

"I'm sorry," he pants, his words slurring. "I'm not—fuck, I can't—"

"It's fine," you gasp. "It's fine, just—ah, Tech!"

Your back arches as he hits that spot inside of you, and he groans, his forehead dropping against yours. His goggles are pressing against your face, and you can feel the cold metal against your heated skin.

"You feel amazing," he pants, his hips rolling.

"You—you're not bad yourself," you gasp, and he laughs, a low, husky sound.

"Not bad? That's the best you can do?"

"You're ruining the moment," you groan, and he scoffs.

"Apologies," he says, his tone mocking. "What can I do to make it up to you?"

You roll your hips, and Tech grunts, his grip on your thighs tightening.

"You can start by fucking me properly," you breathe.

"As you wish."

His thrusts pick up speed, his hands moving to grip your ass, lifting you up and down, helping you bounce on his cock. The shelf behind you rattles, the items stacked on it shifting and wobbling, and Tech lets out a breathless huff of laughter.

"You're—Force, you're a hazard," he gasps, and you laugh, the sound morphing into a moan as he grinds against you.

"I've always wanted to say this," you pant, your nails scraping across his scalp, "shut the hell up and fuck me, Tech."

He growls, his pace picking up, and the angle of his thrusts changes, and suddenly, he's hitting that spot inside you again. Your orgasm is building, and you're teetering on the edge, your body thrumming with pleasure.

Tech is panting, his breaths coming out in ragged gasps, and his forehead is resting against yours, his lips brushing against your skin.

"Touch yourself,” he orders, his voice rough and hoarse. "I want to feel you come."

You comply, your hand slipping between your bodies, your fingers finding your clit. Your eyes flutter shut as the first jolt of pleasure hits you, and Tech lets out a choked groan.

"Look at me," he pleads, and you open your eyes, gazing up at him.

He looks utterly wrecked, his cheeks flushed, his mouth hanging open, his brow furrowed in concentration. He's gorgeous, and you can't believe this is actually happening.

Tech is fucking you, in a closet, while a bunch of Corries are patrolling the halls outside. It's the craziest, most insane, and most arousing thing that has ever happened to you. There's no doubt in your mind that you're going to be sore for a week, but it's totally worth it.

"You're so beautiful," he pants, his words slurring together. "You're so perfect, so tight, and Force, the sounds you're making—"

He cuts himself off with a groan as he drives into you, and you cry out, the pleasure building. He's babbling now, and it's not even coherent, just a stream of nonsense and curse words and half-formed sentences. He's saying something about how good you feel, and how much he's wanted this, and how he never thought he'd have this chance, and it's all a jumbled mess, but it's the sweetest thing you've ever heard.

His rhythm is erratic, his hips jerking, and his face is twisted with desperation and need. He's getting close, you can tell, and you're right there with him, teetering on the edge.

"Tech," you hiss, your hand speeding up, your fingers rubbing furiously at your clit. "Oh, fuck, Tech—"

He slams into you, the tip of his cock hitting that spot deep inside, and you shatter. You come hard, clenching around his cock, and you barely have time to clap a hand over your mouth before your orgasm crashes over you. You're biting down on your palm, your teeth leaving deep indents, and the sound that escapes your lips is muffled and raw.

"Oh," Tech gasps, his eyes fluttering closed. "You're going to make me—"

He doesn't get a chance to finish his sentence. The tension inside of him snaps, and he thrusts into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt and grinding against you, forcing you to take every last inch of him. His cock twitches, and his whole body goes rigid as his orgasm hits him.

He doesn't make a sound as he comes, his lips parting and his mouth opening in a silent cry. His hips jerk, his movements stuttering and uneven, and you feel the bloom of warmth as he fills you, his release spilling out of you, dripping down his cock.

Finally, he slumps forward, his head dropping to rest on your shoulder. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him close, and he lets out a low, satisfied hum.

You can't stop the stupid grin that spreads across your face.

Tech is nuzzling at your neck, and you can feel him smiling, too, his lips pressed against your skin.

You're not sure how long the two of you stay like that, wrapped in each other's arms, breathing hard and basking in the afterglow. It feels like hours, but it's probably only a few minutes.

Tech pulls back, and you look up at him. He's gazing down at you, his expression soft and content. His goggles are crooked, and his hair is mussed, and his lips are swollen and red. You reach up, smoothing his hair down and straightening his goggles.

"Well," he starts, his tone dry despite his ragged breathing, "this has been a most enlightening day."

You burst out laughing, and he smirks, his nose bumping against yours.

"Nothing like a bit of field research to broaden the horizons," you tease.

"Indeed," he chuckles, his hand cupping your cheek.

You smile at him, and he smiles back, and the moment is so tender, so sweet, and you can't help but kiss him again. It's slow and lazy, and he sighs against your lips, his mouth warm and inviting. You could kiss him forever, and never get tired of it.

Finally, he pulls away, and you reluctantly let him go.

"I must admit," he says, his tone light, "that was far more satisfying than I'd imagined."

"Oh, you imagined it, did you?" you ask, and he smirks, a faint flush creeping across his cheeks.

"Perhaps once or twice," he confesses.

"Just once or twice?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Perhaps more," he amends, and the admission sends a thrill through you. “Though I had not anticipated anything quite so vigorous."

"I didn't know you had it in you," you tease. "I never would have guessed that you were such a deviant."

"Evidently you bring out a certain side of me," he replies. "One that I had not been aware of until today."

"Well, I'm happy to explore more sides of you, if you'd like," you murmur, and Tech hums.

"I would enjoy that.”

His lips brush against yours, and the kiss is soft and sweet, and your heart swells.

"But," he says, breaking the kiss and looking down at the floor.

You follow his gaze, and you both wince. Your pants are lying in a pile on the floor, along with your shirt, and Tech's codpiece and gloves. There are a few pieces of cleaning supplies strewn about, and your boots are on opposite ends of the closet. Tech's belt is laying on the ground, his pouches spilling out and his blasters resting haphazardly on the floor.

"We need to clean this up," he mutters.

"Yeah," you agree.

Neither of you move. You stay where you are, clinging to each other, and savoring the moment. It's not going to last forever, and you both know it.

Once the two of you step out of this closet, things will change. Everything will change. But you can't find it in yourself to regret anything. Not the teasing, or the flirting, or the banter, or the argument, or the frantic, desperate sex. None of it.

And from the way Tech is looking at you, with a mixture of tenderness and awe and fondness, you know that he doesn't, either.

Eventually, though, Tech is the one to pull away. You both groan as he slides out of you, and the sound echoes through the tiny room. He sets you down gently, and your legs shake as you try to find your footing.

"Are you alright?" he asks, his eyes roaming over you, concern written all over his face.

"Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little…" you trail off as you glance down at yourself, taking in the sight of your bare thighs and the streaks of white that are slowly dribbling down them. "Uh, sticky."

"Yes," he agrees, his eyes glued to the mess between your legs. You watch his tongue flick out to lick his lips, and the hunger in his gaze is enough to make you blush.

"What?" you ask, and he blinks, seeming to snap out of his trance.

He flushes and looks away. "Nothing," he mutters, pulling his blacks up over his cock.

"Tech, come on," you say, a grin tugging at the corner of your mouth.

"I must admit the sight of you like this is rather... enticing," he says, his tone nonchalant. He's not looking at you, and he's pretending to straighten his armor, but you can see the pink flush on the back of his neck and the tips of his ears.

"Yeah?" you question, and his eyes flick up to meet yours.

"Yes," he murmurs, and the look he gives you makes your knees weak.

"Good to know,” you breathe. He raises an eyebrow at you, and you can't stop the grin that spreads across your face.

Tech shakes his head and picks up his belt, fastening it around his waist. He begins stuffing his pockets, and you watch him, amused. He's always so proper, so put together, and to see him like this, all riled up and horny, is an incredible sight.

"Are you just going to stand there?" he asks, eyeing you, and you grin.

"Maybe," you tease, and he rolls his eyes.

"I will leave you here."

"Sure, you will."

"I will," he insists, but the look in his eyes gives him away.

"Okay, okay," you chuckle. You grab a cloth and wipe off the worst of the mess, and Tech hands you your pants and underwear. You pull them on, wincing at the damp fabric, and Tech holds out your shirt.

"Thank you," you say, and he nods.

"Of course."

You take the shirt from him, and your fingers brush against his. His touch sends a shiver through you, and you can't resist the urge to lean forward and press a kiss to his cheek.

Tech stiffens, surprised by the gesture, but you see the corners of his lips quirk up in a smile.

"Now what was that for?" he asks, and you shrug.

"Do I need a reason?"

"I suppose not," he admits, a faint blush staining his cheeks.

You can't stop the smile that spreads across your face, and neither can he. You finish getting dressed, and the two of you straighten up as best you can. Tech smooths down his hair and adjusts his armor, and you wipe the smudges off his goggles with the cloth in his belt. He helps you button your shirt and tuck your hair back into place, and he looks like he's enjoying himself.

You have a sneaking suspicion that he likes undressing you, and putting you back together again.

When he finishes, he presses a kiss to your forehead, and his lips linger on your skin.

"Thank you.”

"For what?" you ask, confused.

"For helping me see the value of a little spontaneity.” Tech gives you a small smile, and his eyes are warm. "I may have been...wrong, about today. It's been an illuminating experience, and I'm grateful for it."

The rush of affection you feel for him catches you off guard. He's such a dork, and he's so sincere, and the way he's looking at you makes your heart flutter.

You reach up and cup his face in your hands, pulling him down for a quick kiss. He lets out a startled sound, but he kisses you back, his lips gentle and warm.

"Who would've thought," you murmur as you pull away. "You have a healthy psyche after all."

Tech scoffs. "I told you—"

A shout echoes down the corridor, and the two of you freeze.

"They've gotta be around here somewhere," a voice calls.

"Shit," you whisper.

"Time to go," Tech replies, and the two of you burst into motion. You both dart to the door, and Tech cracks it open, peeking out.

"Ready?" he asks, and you nod, your cheeks still pink.

He pushes the door open, and you dash out. Tech's fingers curl around yours, and you follow him as he leads the way. Your feet slap against the floor, and your breath is coming in short, harsh gasps. Tech's hand is hot in yours, his grip firm, and his thumb rubs comforting circles into your palm.

You don't even bother trying to remember where you're going. You just follow him, trusting him to lead you to safety. You can hear the voices of the troopers echoing behind you, and their footsteps are growing louder.

"There!" a voice shouts, and Tech curses under his breath.

He tugs on your hand, pulling you around a corner. The two of you are sprinting now, and you're panting, and your heart is pounding. A bubble of laughter escapes your lips, and Tech shoots you a look, but the corners of his mouth are turned up in a smile.

"This is insane," he mutters, and you grin.

"It's fun," you correct.

"This is the last time I ever listen to one of your ideas.”

"We both know that's not true."

"Unbelievable," he sighs, shaking his head.

"I'm just saying," you argue, "we both enjoyed ourselves, didn't we?"

"Yes," he admits reluctantly. He suddenly pulls you to the left, ducking down a side corridor. "But next time, I choose the location."

"Next time, huh?"

"Yes, next time," he huffs.

Tech pulls you through another doorway, and the two of you race down a flight of stairs, then another, until you reach the ground floor. You can see the entrance up ahead, and you muster the last of your strength, putting everything you have into one final burst of speed.

The doors slide open, and the evening light streams in, bathing you both in its warm glow. Tech's fingers are still laced with yours, and he doesn't let go, not even as the two of you burst out of the building and onto the streets.

Tech tugs you to the right, and you follow, his hand warm and firm in yours. You can still hear the shouts of the Corries behind you, but they're getting fainter. You're both out of breath, and your hearts are racing, but the excitement is intoxicating.

Tech finally slows to a walk, and he glances over his shoulder, checking for any pursuers. He doesn't let go of your hand.

"That was certainly a memorable excursion," he remarks.

"Told you it would be fun," you grin.

"Yes, yes, you were right, and I was wrong," he concedes with a long-suffering sigh.

"Never gets old, hearing you say that."

"I can tell," he grumbles, but there's a smile playing on his lips.

The two of you continue on, your steps slow and leisurely, and the streets are quiet around you. It's later than you thought it would be, and there's no doubt the others are wondering where the two of you are. But you can't find it in yourself to care. Not when Tech is looking at you like that.

"So," you start, and Tech raises an eyebrow. "What do we do now?"

"Well," he replies, his voice taking on a thoughtful tone. "I suppose we should head back to the ship."

"Right. Of course." You try your best to keep the disappointment from your voice, but the way you deflate must give it away. Tech glances at you, his expression inscrutable, but there's a hint of a smirk on his lips.

"And then," he continues, his hand tightening around yours, "I'm going to need some help with the power couplings."

You blink and look up at him. His eyes are twinkling, and the corners of his mouth are turned up in a small smile.

"Oh, do you?" you ask, a smile tugging at the corner of your own mouth.

"Yes," he replies. He lets go of your hand and places his palm against your back, his thumb stroking your spine. "I'm afraid I need someone to help test them. Someone with a very discerning eye."

"I see," you murmur, biting your lip to keep from smiling. "I guess I could help."

He slows to a stop, and turns to face you. The evening sun is setting, and the light is catching in his dark brown eyes, making them glow golden. His hand is still on your back, and he pulls you closer, until the two of you are nearly touching.

His free hand tilts your chin up. "I'd appreciate it."

"And maybe after," you continue, a mischievous glint in your eye, "we could test the other parts of the ship."

"That's an excellent idea," Tech replies, and his fingers tighten in the fabric of your shirt. "We will need to make sure we are thorough. It wouldn't do to leave any part of the ship untested."

"No," you agree, a grin spreading across your face. "It would be irresponsible."

"Precisely."

Tech meets you halfway, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. Your hands find his neck, and he pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you. You can't stop the sigh that escapes you, and he swallows it, his mouth slanting over yours.

He breaks the kiss, and he's smiling, his cheeks flushed. Your hand comes up to cup his cheek, and his eyes flutter shut, his head tilting into your touch.

"So," you start, your thumb stroking his skin, "shall we head back to the ship?"

"After you, darling," he replies, his voice low. He presses one more kiss to your lips, and then he's stepping back, offering his arm.

You reach out to take it, and then you pause, considering. Your fingers drift over his bicep, and you look up at him, your eyes sparkling.

"Race you," you say, and then you take off, your footsteps echoing down the street.

Tech stares after you for a moment, before he shakes his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Infuriating," he mutters, and he sets off after you.

The two of you run, chasing each other through the streets of Coruscant, and the air is filled with your laughter. It's a beautiful night, and the city is alight with the glow of the sunset. There's a breeze blowing, and it rustles your hair, and the scent of flowers is in the air.

And there's a warm feeling in your chest, something bright and light and free, and you can't stop laughing.

It's impulsive, and foolish, and everything Tech would normally hate. But it's perfect, and as he chases after you, the smile on his face only widens.

Maybe there's something to be said for spontaneity, after all.

Taglist: @baddest-batchers @covert1ntrovert @stellarbit @bruh-myguy-what @qvnthesia

@spicy-clones @kindalonleystars @cw80831 @totallyunidentified @heidnspeak

@lovelytech9902 @frozenreptile @chocolatewastelandtriumph @etod @puppetscenario

@umekohiganbana @resistantecho @dindjarins1ut @tech-aficionado @aynavaano

@burningnerdchild @ihatesaaand @lolwey @hobbititties @mere-bear

@thegreatpipster @lordofthenerds97 @tentakelspektakel @notslaybabes @mali-777

@schrodingersraven @megmegalodondon @dangraccoon @dreamie411 @sukithebean

@bimboshaggy @anything-forourmoony @9902sgirl @jedi-dreea @salaminus

@ghostymarni @gottalovehistory @burningnerdchild

#tech x reader #tbb tech #tbb tech x reader #the bad batch #tbb x reader #the bad batch x reader #clone x reader #roy writes #well i finally did it #here it is #if you see any mistakes no you didn't!#also thinking of doing some sort of celebration for 500 followers #maybe i'll do a prompt list or something #i need some fresh ideas

587 notes · View notes

paleopinesofficial · 1 month ago

Text

An important update to our Paleo Pines Community🦖💙😞

Transcript Below;

Paleo Pines Needs Your Help

A lot of you have been asking what’s next for Paleo Pines and we wanted to provide our community with an update on the challenges we are facing. The sad truth is, the future is uncertain.

For the better part of this year we’ve been working behind the scenes to create a plan for the next iteration of Paleo Pines, filled with stunning new regions, quirky new NPCs, plenty more adorable dinosaurs, plus eggs, babies and - yes - multiplayer. The job after launch seemed simple - listen to our community, provide a roadmap full of updates and DLC to ensure that our players can continue to enjoy the existing world… and double-down on that enjoyment with the plan for bigger, better, shinier Paleo Pines for you to enjoy with friends and family.

We've been searching high and low for a production partner, one that felt your love and passion to help us bring the next Paleo Pines to life. On several occasions in our journey, we were within a few small steps of the finish line, only to have circumstances beyond our control cause the future to fall through.

This isn't happening just to us. It seems the whole indie game scene is facing a sudden drying up of publishing and investment opportunities. Thanks to the unwavering dedication of our small team and the massive love from all of you, we've been able to support the first year of Paleo Pines on a shoestring budget.

We’ve managed to keep the lights on… until now. Unless we can find a partner who is keen to see the Paleo Pines universe grow, we won’t be able to keep our team together for much longer.

So, we’re making our situation public. Here's how you can help:

Do you know a publisher/investor who would be a great partner for Paleo Pines 2? If you're a serious publisher or investor and are interested in seeing a production plan, financial model, game design document and more, please reach out to [email protected]. (By the way, Paleo Pines isn’t the only property we’re working on... Our talented team has a diverse collection of small, medium and large scale projects, for PC, console and mobile. If you’re looking for something fun and a little bit different, get in here.)

Can you help in smaller ways? Every little bit helps! Here are a few ways you can directly support the devs:

Have you got our DLC yet? We've just released our very first Halloween DLCs – a great way to support us while getting more gameplay for yourself.

Still playing the demo? Are we on your Wishlist? Please consider buying the full game today, or in the next sale. We promise it'll bring you hours of dino-tastic joy!

Befriend a Paleo Pines plushie. These adorable creatures aren't just cute, our portion of the sales goes towards development. Our latest, Boo, the albino Styracosaurus, is available now. Our previous plushies helped fund our new Halloween DLCs and free update.

Order Paleo Pines merchandise. We’ve got dozens of fun items celebrating your favourite dinos available in time for gifting this year.

Even if you can't offer financial support, you can still be a hero! Share this post with anyone who might be interested in helping. Wishlist us, buy the game, talk about how it makes you feel, and share share share. The power of community is real, and every share brings us closer to making more Paleo Pines!

The team here can't express enough gratitude to the incredible Paleo Pines community. You've been with us through every step of this amazing journey, from the demo launch to the release last September, and through our adorable plushie collaborations with Makeship. You've become more than players and we couldn't have imagined building this world with a kinder, more supportive group.

Thank you from the bottom of our hearts for supporting us on this roller coaster of a year since launch, and your patience and understanding with our current situation. Hopefully with your help, this won’t be the end of the Paleo Pines adventure.

Lots of love, The Paleo Pines Team

#paleopines #paleo pines #indie dev #game development #indiedev #indie games #dinosaur #paleoblr

690 notes · View notes

topazadine · 3 months ago

Text

Writing Post Masterlist

All my posts about writing - plus some I absolutely loved by other writers.

Masterlists by Other People (all good)

"Writing Tips Masterpost" by @deception-united - Deception-United has an incredibly wealth of resources available, far more comprehensive and detailed than mine. Go check it out!

"WQA Post Master Lists" by @writingquestionsanswered - Another fantastic and wonderfully comprehensive resource that covers damn near everything you need to know about writing. Genuinely one of the best free resources on writing that you could find on the internet.

General Advice for a Happy Writing Life

"The Myth of the Martyr Artist" - An incredibly important post, perhaps my most important one ever, that discusses why mental illness is a burden, not a benefit. I have no idea why this even needs to be said, but it does, apparently.

"Building Self-Esteem as a Writer" - Why you gotta be nice to yourself. You gotta.

"Identifying bad writing advice" - Warning signs that the post you are reading kinda sucks and you should click off.

"Advice to Beginner Writers: The Good, the Bad, and the Unpleasant" - How long it takes to become a good writer, what to focus on when learning, and why fanfic is such a useful tool.

"Mindset Shifts: Fanfiction -> Original Fiction" - What fanfic writers should know about deciding to take on original characters and stories.

"Defeating Protracted Writer's Block" - What to do when you find it impossible to write for days, weeks, or months at a time.

"Five Common Anxieties of Newbie Writers, Demystified" - Explorations of five mindsets that can set younger writers back as they learn their craft, including overcompetitiveness, overdescribing, and fearing they're "too old."

"Good Motivations for Continuing to Write" - Why it is crucial to have a passion for writing beyond fame and fortune.

"Extremely controversial writing opinions that will make you mad (but I'm going to say them anyway)" - Things you really don't want to hear, but need to be said. A bit of tough love, including the insignificance of ideas, the cold hard truth about how non-writers react to your writing, and the essentiality of having a well-rounded life.

"Why Mindfulness Is a Key Practice for Writers" - On the need to slow down and let our brain rest - plus some options that are categorically not sitting there in dead silence (boring).

"Writing When Happy" - Wherein I hijack someone's question to discuss the Myth of the Martyr Artist, why we might self-limit because of it, and how to do the impossible: write when we're happy.

"The Neurodivergent Writer’s Guide to Fun and Productivity" by @bookishdiplodocus - Excellent advice on how enjoying the process and reminding yourself that writing is supposed to be fun can help you stay motivated and productive, even when your brain is not cooperating.

"The Glorification of Self-Deprecation in Art/Writing Spaces" by @nicolkoutoulakiauthor - I've discussed before how crucial it is to have a healthy self-esteem when writing, but Nicol does it even better here. Nicol also includes some excellent reframing tactics so you can stay motivated.

Generalish Writing Advice (multifactorial)

"Signs That You Will Probably Finish Your Writing Project" - An analysis of the mindset that leads to results, and encouragement on how to develop them.

"'How Do I Start Writing?'" (Or; A Psychoanalysis of Newbie Writer Fears) - Inspired by the dozens of Reddit posts that ask this exact same thing, often with useless responses. So why do people ask this? I offer my theory.

"I Can Think of Ideas But Can't Write Them!" - A consideration of the many reasons you might find it difficult to get started on your precious idea-baby.

"How to elevate your writing style with 6 simple hacks" - Information about how to develop a prettier prose style, catch errors, develop good dialogue, and focus on brevity.

"How to improve your writing style : a 5-steps guide" by @writer-logbook - Especially great information on why reading widely is so helpful for your craft!

"Some Writing Advice" by @whispers-whump - Especially great discussion of why you shouldn't write what you mean.

"Practical Writing Advice Part 2" by @so-many-ocs - Does what it says on the tin. Simple, easy-to-follow advice that can break you out of writer's block.

"25 Prose Tips for Writers" by @thewriteadviceforwriters - I absolutely love the emphasis on sound and harmony here. As someone whose entire book series revolves around the magic of poetry, of course I think this is incredibly important advice!

"Pacing and Show Don't Tell" by @mylordshesacactus - Two for one deal! First, learn more about why pacing is important; then, look at some examples of the classic advice "show, don't tell." The post does a great job on breaking down what show don't tell actually means and what is not a violation of this guideline so that newer writers aren't confused.

Writing tools

"How to Build a Sustainable Writing Habit Through SCIENCE (Fuck Off, NaNoWriMo)" - Why NaNoWriMo doesn't actually motivate young writers and how to do better through a spreadsheet (yes, really, a spreadsheet). It also explains the importance of intrinsic motivation!

"'I've Outlined Too Much and Now I Can't Write!' (Or: the Double Outline Method for Overanxious Plotters)" - Some of us tend to go absolutely ham on our outlines, to the point where they're practically their own books. But then we also tend to not actually do the writing attached to said outline. Does this mean outlining is useless? Of course not. My method lets you have your outline and eat it too. (.... Wait.)

"'How Do I Make Myself Start Writing?' (Tips to Get the Damn Thing Done) - In this post, I provide a step-by-step guide to start writing, including a few tools to help improve motivation and concentration.

"How to Write Faster (And, Hopefully, Better Too)" - Eliminating distractions and forcing your brain to write is key to getting more done. Here, I explain how you might be limiting yourself by too much thinking and not enough doing.

Worldbuilding

"Stop Making Everything So Damn Complicated!" - Why fantasy (and scifi) does not need to be dizzyingly intricate to be enjoyable.

"How to Kick Ass at Worldbuilding" - I offer some suggestions on how to create a grounded and interesting world that will not bore your readers, based on real life examples.

"Grounded vs. Airy Fantasy" by @aethersea - Excellent breakdown of different levels of groundedness in fantasy and why it's important to understand your own approach.

"Fantasy Guide to Building a Culture" by @inky-duchess - Thorough and methodical analysis of what can create a compelling fantasy culture, including those things that many fail to think about when writing.

"Writing tip - Research" by @pygmi-cygni - Fantastic assessment of the importance of research, including for fantasy stories. As Pygmi-Cygni said, a lot of people claim that they don't need to do any research for fantasy novels, which isn't true! Any parallels to IRL need to be realistic, or you will lose credibility.

Plotting

"How to Use Chomolungma for Writing Adventure Stories; Or, the Plot Mountain Method" - If you're sick of saving felines who should really figure their own shit out, it's time to head to Plot Mountain. In this post, I offer you an alternative to the formulaic "Save the Cat" and "Hero's Journey" which also incorporates tension, characterization, and forward momentum.

"Avoiding Melodrama In Your Writing" - The most annoying all things: melodrama. My least favorite thing. Do not do it. I will show you how.

"How to Find a Plot When All You Have is Characters and Setting" by @rheas-chaos-motivation - This is a common problem for many writers, when you have cool characters or an intriguing setting. This short post can help you kickstart your ideas for how to create an intriguing plot that has built-in tension.

Description

"Remembering Perspective When Writing Descriptions" - Key factors to think about when describing other characters or settings from your POV.

"Description, Momentum, and Tension; Or, How Not to Bore a Reader" - Why, when, and where to put description so that people don't skip over it. Hopefully.

"Writing Notes: Seasons" - Each season has both benefits and downsides. In this post, we look at the negatives and positive aspects of each so you can decide how a particular season may strengthen your themes - plus some descriptions to help inspire you.

"Writing Advice: Spicy Mundanity" - Wherein I explain how to stop having boring descriptions by packing in characterization.

"How to Write Smut?" by @unfriendlywriter - Wonderful examples of how to write heartstopping smut.

"How to pull off descriptions" by @fictionstudent - Fictionstudent has a ton of great posts, both about film analysis and about the art of writing. I especially liked this one because it discusses how important perspective is for descriptions and the importance of filling in the details as a character would rather than just throwing it all at the reader at one time.

"How to avoid White Room Syndrome" by @writerthreads - Fantastic and focused advice on how to ensure you're offering readers just enough setting to help them envision the world.

Characterization

"Writing Relatable Characters; Or, Using Human Failures to Your Advantage" - Explaining how you can use character flaws and human needs to create a relatable character. Also explains the basic development of a plot, which is about equilibrium.

"How NOT to Write a Character" - Wherein I give you some examples of annoying characters we want to punt off a cliff so you can watch yourself.

"Writing Strong Female Characters" - Why you should give your female characters a secret goal, as well as how to avoid common 'strong female' stereotypes.

"Writing Compelling Trauma in Fiction: Dos and Don'ts" - How to avoid melodrama and create intriguing emotional wounds for characters.

"Quality Assurance Checks for Character Development" - Thought exercises that can help you differentiate characters, prune down unnecessary characters, develop true chemistry between LI and MC, and avoid having too many POVs.

"Developing Character Agency (Or; Cutting the Plot Strings)" - A discussion of character agency and how to ensure your characters are not bound by the narrative.

"Writing Notes: Thought Distortions" by @literaryvein-reblogs - Some psychological concepts you can use in your writing to add depth to characters.

"Questions about your character’s perspective on love and relationships" by @luna-azzurra - Excellent questions that can help you delve into your character's attachment style, what baggage they may bring to a current relationship, and how to create conflict through mentality.

"How to Write a Confession of Love," also by luna-azzurra - Perfect discussion of how to create tension, the utility of setting, not making it perfect, and including the other character's response.

Revisions

"Common Writing Issues that Reduce Readability" - Examples of fixes for four common issues: double describing, long sentences, overexplaining, and head hopping.

"How to Avoid Purple Prose" - A critical part of the revision process is making sure your writing is clear and balanced. In this post, I show a blatant example of purple prose and provide suggestions on how to make a more elegant passage.

"Differential Diagnosis When Your Writing Is Getting Worse" by @ariaste - Fantastic explanation by a professional writer about why you might feel like your writing is getting worse and what to do about it.

"How to Make Your Writing Less Stiff Part 3" by @physalian - Physalian's whole blog has some excellent advice, so definitely give it a look!

"How to Improve Your Writing" - Also by literaryvein-reblogs, this offers some excellent exercises to help with sentence-level issues, such as modifiers, parallelism, and details.

Publishing

"How to promote your book online : a discussion about social media (and few tips)" by writer-logbook - Great tips about how to get more interest in your book. I especially enjoyed the emphasis on patience and consistency. Writer-logbook has some excellent info overall about the nitty-gritty of writing, so I definitely recommend poring through their blog in general. (That's why they're included here twice!)

"A masterclass in how not to market your books, in one singular tweet" - Wherein I help you derive lessons from an abysmal tweet by an author.

"Mistakes I Made When Self-Pubbing My First Book (Part 1: Mindset Edition)" - I talk about how being delulu is not the solulu, that yes marketing is important (even if it is horrible), and how a bit of self-confidence can go a long way.

"Mistakes I Made When Self-Pubbing My First Book (Part 2: Presentation Edition)" - Graphics and covers and blurbs! Learn about them. Do not do what I did.

"Mistakes I Made When Self-Pubbing My First Book (Part 3: Ads and Reviews Edition)" - Why you have to get reviews. You gotta. And you gotta demand them. Shake those reviews out of your readers. You'll thank me later.

Specific Research Advice

"Assassination Methods Through the Decades: A Writer’s Handbook" by @hayatheauthor - A thorough review of different assassination methods, including a section discussing common assassination methods by region!

"How to Write Someone in a Wheelchair" - A group effort! This is a reblog chain discussing body language in manual wheelchairs, the mechanics of power wheelchairs, wheelchair propulsion methods, and a reminder that just because someone is in a wheelchair doesn't mean they can't walk short distances.

"Writing Research Notes: Caves" - Oh caves how I love them. Caves. Let me tell you about them if you want to write about caves. Blessed.

"Writing Research Notes: Horses" - A beginner's guide to horse mindsets, whether horses like working, approaching horses, how to ride, and tips on training.

"Writing Research Notes: Bipolar Disorder" - Written by me, a writer with bipolar disorder! This shares basic facts about bipolar, offers a list of symptoms you can use, and cautions you against spreading misinformation through poor characterization or myths.

"Writing Research Notes: Politics" - I provide a quick overview about governments and international relations, based off my suffering while getting an MA in International Relations.

"Stop Doing This in Injury Fics!" by @pygmi-says-hi - Discusses some common errors when writing whump/angst. The fever part was especially helpful for me!

"Writing US Military Characters" by @lookbluesoup - An explanation of the habits and mentality of US military characters. Many of these were quite helpful for my fantasy military characters, so you can get a lot of mileage out of these for soldiers in other militaries too!

Little Funsies

"What Painting Style Is Your Writing?" - A short exploration of different writing styles to help you better understand your own approach.

I'll be adding onto this as I continue to scroll through my old likes and, of course, as I find more resources.

#writing #writing resources #writing tips #writing advice #writing help #how to write #fiction writing

449 notes · View notes

theminecraftbee · 1 year ago

Text

why hbomb94 should be the next new hermit: no listen this isn't just me being ridiculous listen listen--

okay but like. after today i am ON THIS TRAIN. i am FULLY CONVINCED that hbomb94 would be one of the BEST POSSIBLE CANDIDATES for "new hermit for hermitcraft". and please, just listen to my case for this:

so, after today, i'm fully convinced hbomb is a perfect vibes match for many hermits. he gets along well! he's actually pretty good at staying at hermitcraft levels of pg in videos (like, not swearing--he makes like, the catmaid jokes, but that's nothing worse than whatever ren gets up to on a given day). he's also relatively chill, already friends with a lot of the hermits, and connects well with them on a content creation level. like, he's excited for them, he slots into the bits well, the bits he brings to the table are picked up easily by the other hermits.

and the thing is... okay i KNOW hbomb isn't a huge base builder. i watched vault hunters smp too. but the thing is... he doesn't have to be! you see, there's a certain hermit niche they haven't invited a new hermit into in a while, and that's the niche that someone like joe hills or zedaph (or i'd argue etho or cubfan) occupies. it's the 'weird' niche. i don't think hbomb would be a builder hermit. i don't think he'd be a redstoner either. what he'd be good at is things like... hermits helping hermits! building minigames! have you seen hbomb actually, half of what he did on dsmp or on his main youtube is building minigames and escape rooms. he'd have good vibes! he'd show up to all the events! he'd probably RUN some events!

what he'd be is a new chill, friendly niche hermit, and i think we need more of those? more of the hermits who WON'T be building megabases, but WILL be building games, helping collect resources, and inventing new strange things to do. yes, sure, once again: i know hbomb isn't a builder, and next to someone like joel, that probably puts him out of contention, but... the last two hermits they invited were builders. they need a hype guy. an event guy. another team player. the escape rooms would be ENRICHMENT. it would be wonderful.

plus, i don't think he'd ever stop being a delightful audience insert about the other hermit projects. plus plus, i think he and scar and cub would definitely do a catmaid bit we'd all regret. plus plus plus i think he could do his rant about how weird beetroot is and the hermits would appreciate him for it.

as such i actually think hbomb slots in BEST of the visitors from today as a new hermit. (this is also in part because the empires crew tends to prefer much shorter seasons on their servers than hermitcraft has if they don't want to get bored and the hermits have pretty definitively decided they don't like short seasons. it's also a vibe check. skizz for hermitcraft fans, i am shaking your hand and saluting you, my guy who can't build and your guy who can't build should be hermits who join for similar reasons, we are friends.)

anyway will this actually happen? probably not. but like. listen. for the first time since hbomb hermit adoption arc started this feels VIABLE and i feel the need to make my case for why i want him on because the moment the season rolls over and we start speculating about new hermits this is the guy who has my vote please do you understand now please he'd be so fun--

#anyway not tagging this with hc because i don't want to put random hc speculation in the tag #but listen. open your mind. hbomb and the hermits building minigames for each other would be such enrichment. you understand.#ALSO REMINDER: NEITHER BOTHER HBOMB NOR THE HERMITS ABOUT THIS. ITS RUDE. ITS REALLY RUDE.#THIS IS MY PITCH TO YOU ALL. THE FANDOM. THEY CAN DECIDE THIS FOR THEMSELVES #i just needed to share the vision.

1K notes · View notes

porcelana-r0ta · 4 months ago

Text

JOYRIDE

Fandoms: Batman, Danny Phantom

Relationship: Dan Phantom/Jason Todd

Word Count: 3,823

Ao3 Link: Available only to registered users

Summary:

Dan doesn't want to join his Habitudes group for their dumb community service project, which is why he lets two idiot goons kidnap him off the streets. When said goons turn out to work for The Joker, Dan decides to do something about him, maniac to maniac.

Or: The Joker tries to live stream a ransom, but ends up live streaming his own execution.

xxXxx

When Dan Nightingale is grabbed off the streets of Gotham, he makes a half-hearted struggle, just so he can seem human. The kiddie hero business and the indiscriminate genocidal tendencies no longer call to him like they used to, and while he’s still an impatient person who is intolerant of disruptive bullshit, he needs a little excitement in his life.

Plus, he wants an excuse to get out of his Habitudes community service project. His pretentious trust fund baby groupmates chose to volunteer at some fucking coffee shop instead of something normal, like a hospital or an animal shelter. (Dan didn’t even know a coffee shop was an option, but anything goes for wealthy elites who want to roleplay as an impoverished barista, apparently.) Well, Jay Peters wasn’t so bad, and he was just as irritated as Dan was about the others’ choice. Plus, the chill that settles into Dan’s unused lungs when the other student is around shows that he’s at least Death-touched like him, even if they’ve never acknowledged that to each other.

So, yeah. He lets himself be kidnapped by two goons, even if he could easily break free and make their insides their outsides. It could be interesting! Enrichment in his pandimensional parole! Everyone’s got to have fun sometimes! It’s like a little joyride, as a treat! But he isn’t the one committing the crime! How quaint!

Dan is a very polite captive. He lets himself be pulled into a creeper van with minimal resistance. He lets the goons zip tie his hands. He lets them put a black bag over his head, even though it smells of weed. He doesn’t count the number of turns they take, nor does he try to talk them into letting him go. In fact, he doesn’t say anything. When they eventually park, he allows the men to pull him out of the creeper van and into some building—likely a warehouse, judging by the echo of their footsteps on the floor. And finally, he lets the goons cut off the zip ties around his wrists and then tie them to the metal arms of a chair.

He’s a great captive. And he’s so going to be excused from that stupid Habitudes community service project!

He’s content to sit and wait. The Bats of Gotham City usually have a good response time for villain bullshit, and if they don’t, then it’s not like any Fear gas or sex pollen will affect him. Dan’s not really human anymore, even if he is capable of looking so.

Dan does not have to wait long. The footsteps increase and then stop altogether, and then a cackle fills the air. “Camera man ready? Mics? Charges?” The voice is familiar, yet grating. Where has he heard it before? In his past future, maybe?

“Yes, sir,” comes the reply from several different people.

A pleased cackle, “Then let’s get started!”

“We are live in three… two…”

At the silent one, the cackle echoes through the room once again. “Hello, ladies and gentlemen of Gotham City and beyond! I’m your favorite Joker, LIVE! With one of your favorite Wayne children!”

Dan, who has been relatively chill this whole time, tenses. The Joker. That’s why he recognizes that cackle and voice. He had killed the clown before in his original timeline. Ugh, clowns. He fucking hates clowns. Hates their stupid pale makeup and their stupid dumb wigs and their exaggerated eyes and he fucking hates how they make him feel like he’s not in control.

And what was that about a Wayne?

Dan doesn’t think killing someone like The Joker in his original timeline should be held against him. Honestly, the guy is a megalomaniacal terrorist who abuses the guise of mental illness to get away with crimes against humanity. Dan had at least owned up to his own sanity, and never tried to hide from the law or anything like that. He just kind of… killed the law.

….ACAB?

A hand suddenly grips at the bag on his head, grabbing hair with fabric. “That’s right, folks! Here’s Gotham’s beloved Dick Grayson!” The bag is yanked off his head, revealing Dan in all his scowling glory. And Dan is a lot of things, but an exact Dick Grayson copy he is not, so while the goons may have mistaken him as Grayson, The Joker does not.

He pauses, studying Dan’s face. Dan raises a mocking eyebrow, then looks around the warehouse.

It’s empty and dimly lit, but it’s not a problem for his superior vision. The metal walls are an ugly beige and the floor is a gray cement, its color only broken by mysterious brown stains, and now the discarded black bag. Dan is up against a wall, surrounded by filming equipment. The camera in question is just a fucking iPhone 12 attached to a ring light. There’s one goon behind the camera, moderating the live stream. There is another goon holding a boom mic above Dan and The Joker, and there are four others behind the camera. All of the goons who are not handling equipment are holding toy musket guns. It is probably safe to assume that there are similarly armed goons guarding the doors that Dan cannot see from his position tied to a chair. Likely two goons per exit. In a warehouse of this size, there have to be at least six more goons that Dan isn’t seeing.

The Joker grits his teeth. “Who brought the Grayson kid here.” It’s not a question so much as it is a demand.

“We did, boss,” two goons pipe up proudly from behind the camera.

“Why don’t you two come up on camera so I can congratulate you for good work?” The Joker grins beseechingly.

One of the two goons, the blond, shuffles nervously at this, whereas the other puffs out his chest. So only one has any brain cells.

The prideful one grabs his comrade by the arm and drags him up to the camera with Dan and The Joker. They stand in front of Dan, blocking him from the camera’s view.

“I always reward good work, you see,” he says to his henchmen. “Now, you think this is good work?”

“Yes, sir,” says Pride, while Blond frowns.

“Take a good look at his face.” The villain gestures angrily to Dan’s unimpressed face. “What do you see?”

“Dick Grayson, sir,”

Blond shuffles, “He looks like he isn’t scared.”

“No! Wrong! This isn’t Dick Grayson! This– This is some—” The Joker takes another glance at Dan, noting the black Gotham U hoodie that hides his muscles. “This is some fucking college twink!”

“Twink?” Dan mutters to himself, disgruntled. Sure, the hoodie is baggy and he’s seated instead of standing, but do those two things add up to him looking like a twink?

The color has drained out of even Pride’s face at The Joker’s words. “Sir, please—”

But The Joker is already pulling out a comically large toy gun that probably has real bullets, and Dan sighs. It would probably be bad for his parole if he let a bunch of humans die in front of him.

He phases out of the ropes binding him, safe from view with the two idiots in front of him. Then, he kicks The Joker down to the floor, sending the toy gun scattering across the cement floor of the warehouse. He stands and knocks Pride and Blond’s heads together, knocking them out as The Joker screeches with rage.

The goons behind the camera aim their guns, but Dan is already moving behind the camera. He snags the guns out of their hands, snapping them in half with strength he doesn’t even have to think about. He moves so fast that at first they don’t even realize what’s happened. By the time they connect their missing firearms to the broken bits of metal on the floor, Dan has already clobbered them over the head, knocking them unconscious.

He takes out the cameraman, too, and the goon holding the boom mic. Then, in mere seconds, he takes out all the goons at each exit, and he’s back at the filming station by the time The Joker has staggered to his feet. His original estimate had been off by two—there were eight other goons in total.

Dan checks the iPhone—still live streaming. On TikTok, of all the goddamn apps. The comments are going wild on what’s going on: where’s the college student, how did he kick The Joker like that, do you guys think that those two goons have brain damage now, what was that metal scraping sound, where is The Joker?

“Hey, brat!” snarls The Joker, clutching at his ribs. “That was not part of the script.”

Dan hates clowns, and he especially hates The Joker. Sure, Dan wiped out nearly all of humanity. Who doesn’t have a bad decade of villainous activity? But he did it quickly, and he didn’t do it under the guise of insanity. He owned up to it. And if Dan’s being honest, he’s… disgusted by it all now, even if it hurts himself to admit.

If Dan isn’t human, then neither is The Joker.

Still off camera, Dan moves so fast he basically teleports in front of The Joker. The other man stumbles back, but Dan reaches out and grabs him by the throat. He chokes and claws at Dan, but Dan isn’t human anymore, and so his nails catch on nothing but the cloth of his hoodie. He doesn’t even feel it.

He drags The Joker to the chair in front of the still live camera and shoves him into it. While he recovers from being choked, gasping and shuddering and so fucking human , Dan forces his hands behind him and uses the ropes he’d phased out of to tie The Joker up. When he ties the last knot, Dan stands tall, staring into the camera.

“Hello, friends and family,” he greets the audience. He gives a small smile, and he makes sure that he is perfectly, utterly human with normal blue eyes and normal black hair and normal human skin. “As you can see, things have turned around for The Joker here. Now, I’m sure his original intent was to ransom out the Wayne kid, and it would be a shame to see that hard work and planning go to waste on a mistake, wouldn’t it? So why don’t we hold a… reverse ransom? Only, I don’t need funds. I’ll accept donations. My venmo is vladsucks03. My cashapp is dannight07.”

Dan’s smile grows into a wide grin. “Feel free to donate if you like. But even not a single person donates, The Joker dies today.”

The Joker spits out a gasping laugh, “Ha! You think you can kill me? I gotta admit, that’s a good joke. But Batman—”

“Batman what?” Dan asks, stepping off camera to grab the black bag on the floor. He shoves it halfway into his pocket. He walks to The Joker’s toy gun, the only one he hadn’t broken, and he picks it up.

“Batman is already on his way here,” The Joker says. “He always is by this point.”

“And Batman will save you?” Dan snorts. He moves to check the live stream, comments coming in so fast that the only reason he can read them is because he’s not human anymore.

Is this for real

fuck yeah kill that guy

💥🔫🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

extremely common gotham uni W

im donating 50$ rn

Can we vote on how joker dies

Lol does he fr think that batman would help him

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Does anyone else find this incredibly attractive or is it just me 😳

guys my joker/batman fic update is gonna slap after this

Joker’s cooked

bro is about to have ao3 level donations

Hey what’s his cashapp again

Omg i think that guy is in my bio class

I’ll donate when hes acc dead

doin god's work 🥹👍

If bro doesnt do it he’s cooked

This guy is gonna have infinite rizz if he pulls this off

The Joker scoffs, “Of course he will. He’s done it before.”

Dan yanks his gaze from the comments to The Joker’s face, “What?”

The Joker nods his head up arrogantly. “Batsy can’t live without me. He saved me after fickle-ickle Nightwing killed me.”

“Huh.” Dan blinks consideringly, switching his gaze back to the comments. They’re all freaking out about this new information. He steps back into the camera frame, pulling the hammer back on the toy gun. “Then I’ll just have to make sure it sticks.”

He points the gun at The Joker’s face and fires. As expected, rainbow confetti is the only thing that flies out, dusting over The Joker in celebration of what is to come.

The Joker laughs.

“Cute,” says Dan. He walks around The Joker to stand behind him, directly in front of the camera. He removes the black bag from his pocket and puts it over The Joker’s face.

He shoves the muzzle of the gun into the back of The Joker’s skull. Pulling back the hammer, he asks, “Any last words?”

He pulls the trigger before The Joker can say anything. It’s funny. As expected, the second gunshot is a real bullet. The Joker’s head and body jerks forward. Blood splatters on Dan’s face, but it’s mostly on the floor and the unconscious Blond and Pride and on The Joker himself.

For a moment, Dan can only stare. The Joker’s body is crumbled in on itself, held up only by the bindings on his arms to a chair nailed to the ground.

He feels big. He feels good.

He feels… dirty.

He clears his throat. He drops the gun. He lifts up the soaking black bag up just enough to check for a pulse. After thirty seconds of nothing, he says, “Well, that’s the end of The Joker.”

He looks up, staring into the camera lens, and he chuckles. “I missed my community service project because of this bozo. You guys think my professor will accept this as community service?”

You guys think this will affect my ghost parole? he doesn’t ask.

He bends down to check the pockets of Blond. He finds his phone and uses Blond’s thumbprint to bypass the password. His stomach curdles at the home screen—a picture of Blond and a little girl with his eyes and his nose. His eyes burn and he calls 911, trying not to blink.

“911 dispatch. What is your emergency?”

“Yeah, uh, I killed The Joker. But he kidnapped me first, so. Turnabout.”

“You— sorry, you what?”

“I killed The Joker. He’s dead. I checked his pulse and everything.”

“O-oh.” The woman on dispatch sounds strangled. There are muffled sounds, frantic, that the receiver only barely picks up. Dan wonders what she’s doing, Asking for verification? Trying to triangulate his location? Celebrating the fucking good news? “Do you know where you are, sir?”

“Some warehouse, I guess. Probably at the docks. Do you want me to check?”

“No, sir, please stay where you are if there are no immediate threats.”

“Got it.” He clicks his tongue.

“Can you tell me your name, sir? Are you injured somewhere?”

“I’m Dan. Uh, Dan Nightingale. I guess he thought I was the Grayson kid. Um. Dick Grayson, I mean. And no, I’m fine. His henchmen are injured and unconscious, though.”

“Right. Okay. Hi, Dan. I’m Claire. First responders and patrol units are on their way to your location now.”

“Well, that’s good, I guess.” He almost wants to ask if she thinks that he’ll end up in Arkham for this, but he’s pretty sure that there’s no jury on Earth that would convict him. Well, maybe not. He did ask for donations for murdering The Joker, after all. That might put a damper on his defense.

“Dan?” asks Claire.

“Yeah?”

“Is– is he really dead?”

Dan looks at the body and kicks a limp leg, avoiding looking at the gory black bag. Nothing. “Yep. As a doornail.” And he knows death intimately.

She breathes a shaky, staticky sigh into the receiver. “Thank you, Dan.”

He blinks, “Can you get fired for saying that?”

She laughs, “Honey, everyone not on break right now is listening to this. My boss just broke a bottle of tequila out from his desk.”

He barks out his own laugh. “Oh?”

“You’re about to be very popular, Dan.”

“Well, I—”

And seventeen minutes late to the party, the windows at the top of the warehouse shatter open. In cascades of broken glass and grappling cables, the Bats drop down to the floor.

“Away from the body,” commands Batman as soon as his feet hit the ground. His little birdies, Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, and the newest Robin fall in line with him. Robin makes quick work of rounding up the unconscious goons and binding them.

Dan obligingly puts the hand that isn’t holding the phone up in the air, but before moving away from the camera’s view, he says, “Just a reminder guys, my venmo is vladsucks03 and my cashapp is dannight07. Please remember that I might need a lawyer soon.”

“Okay, funny guy,” Nightwing says, entering into frame and pulling Dan away by the shoulder while Red Robin shuts down the live stream.

“It was self-defense and defense of another. A whole population, if you will,” Dan says.

Red Hood snickers, “Only crime here was the kidnapping.”

“Dan, are you okay?”

“Bats are here, Claire,” Dan tells her. He watches Batman lift the black bag off The Joker’s face, revealing the viscera and gray matter beneath. He’s not smiling anymore. Dan hasn’t seen that kind of gore in years. He’s the cause of it once more and he doesn’t regret that. It feels invigorating. It feels devastating. “I guess I’ll hang up now. If The Joker is mysteriously alive after this, it’s because Batman couldn’t handle not being the hero.”

“Dan—” He hangs up as Batman’s shoulders go minutely tense at his words. The man stands fully, turning his head slightly to narrow his cowled eyes at Dan.

“Problem, sir?”

“You killed The Joker.”

“I saved myself and his two idiots.” He shrugs.

“You had him restrained.”

He rests an offended hand against his chest. “I was frightened that he would escape, sir, just as he escapes from the very place you put him every eight to ten months.” The Bat doesn’t want to be judge, jury, and executioner. Fine. Whatever, he gets it. Dan hadn’t wanted to be that, neither as hero nor villain. He’d wanted to save, he wanted to be saved, and then he wanted everyone to feel like he did. But he’s not so prideful now to know that he wouldn’t have stopped then, not unless someone handled the job permanently.

The Joker needed permanence.

The Bat can play fucking judge all he wants. But he’d be just as villainous if he tried enforcing his own moral code on other people.

“You asked for donations,” Red Robin says dryly. “You were basically putting a hit out on him.”

“My art in life textbook is $300. How much do you think a lawyer is going to cost?”

“Hn.”

“Stop giving the man a hard time for doing a public service, Batman.” Red Hood shoulder checked Nightwing away and held out a gloved hand for Dan to shake. He takes the other’s hand and firmly shakes it. The contact, while not to skin, gives Dan goosebumps and chills his lungs.

Jay?

“Let’s hope my Habitudes professor agrees with you.”

“She will. Everyone with three brain cells to rub together will.” The man cuts a glare at Batman.

Dan didn't say what pronouns his professor uses.

The rumble in Red Hood’s voice is enticing. He looks at the other man, really looks, and notices his broad shoulders, how tall he is (though Dan towers over him even disguised as a human), and his muscled arms. Arms that Dan’s pretty sure are normally hidden beneath a Gotham U hoodie, just like his own.

He smirks as sirens sound in the distance. “Let’s hope the cops agree with you.”

“They will,” Hood says. It sounds like a promise for something entirely different.

“Gag me,” Red Robin mutters.

Robin says, “For once I agree with you.”

Without looking away from Dan, Red Hood flips the two off, and yeah, maybe redemption can be more promising than he initially thought.

xxXxx

A week later, Dan finally goes back to his regular schedule. His ghost parole is intact—he’d even been thanked by some Gothamite ghosts, and Danny begrudgingly told him that there were ghosts who said they’d riot if Dan was given any punishment. As for the mortal side of things, Vlad Masters had graciously sent his team of attorneys to Dan’s aid. While Dan still hates him, he has no issue about using a free team of lawyers to defend him. He’s guaranteed to walk.

Jazz had called him. It made his core unsettled and stony. She wasn’t disappointed, and he doesn’t know how that makes him feel. He doesn’t regret it—The Joker would never change. But what does that say about him and his progress?

Jazz in general makes him uneasy now. She used to be his big sister, and now she’s younger than him, and he tried to kill her, and— she’s different from his Jazz, is all. But if she’d always known like she said, then his Jazz did, too, right? Could she still be his Jazz, a Jazz who got to grow up? Still be his sister? It would be stupid to hope so, right?

He feels bitter.

She said she’s considering Gotham University as her college of choice as she nears high school graduation. Apparently, their psych department is amazing.

So maybe hope isn’t so bad.

Dan sits down at his 10:00 am Habitudes class. Everyone already in the room stares at him. Before they can offer any congrats or thanks or swarm him, Jay sits down next to him.

Dan looks at Jay’s mostly black hair and his tuft of white at his front bangs. He’s wearing his usual Gotham U hoodie, a hoodie that likely hides muscled arms. A chill builds in his lungs like it did when speaking with Red Hood, like it has every other time he’s talked with Jay Peters.

…Hm. A hoodie that definitely hides muscled arms.

“Hey,” says Jay with a grin. “Crazy week, I hear?”

“You’re a Gothamite. I’m sure you’re aware of exactly how crazy it’s been.”

“You should tell me about it sometime.”

“Sure. After class? We can grab an early lunch. Make it a date, maybe.”

Jay smiles, cute and small. His eyes flash green—a baby Death-touched soul, still can’t control his spooky abilities, how adorable—and he says, “That sounds perfect.”

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dcxdp crossover #dpxdc crossover #fanfic #writing #dan phantom #the joker #one shot #complete

390 notes · View notes

britcision · 15 days ago

Text

My other lil bit of Halloween fun is technically not ready yet but in the spirit of “I want to go to bed”, y’all can have an unpolished lil early snack! And I’ll try and get the good one up over the weekend!

So sit back, relax, and enjoy the Dead And Loving It Halloween Special, The Haunting Of Hood House! (Most of part 1…. Part 2 possibly next year I dunno)

——————

The Haunting of Hood House

Honestly, Jason was fully aware he shoulda said no. Between his now-triple life as a crime lord/vigilante, Fright Knight to the ghost king, and now university student, his dance card was full for more than just every hour in a day.

He was a busy bee. Probably shoulda given university another year or so, to be fair, but that was just the thing. Before all this ghost stuff came along, he’d figured he finally had time for a second half to his life; it was why he came back into the public eye at all.

He hadn’t gone in for the summer semester, counting on the tabloids being a whole ass thing (and they were), but he’d figured that getting himself announced at the New Years gala would give plenty of time for stuff to settle down so he could go to university in the fall.

And then, on Christmas day, he’d met Danny. And his life gained another side whether he liked it or not. And it had been too late to walk back the gala by the time he realized just how time consuming it would be.

(On the plus side, his ghost training was coming along well enough that it was finally helping him cut down on time spent on the crime/vigilante side. He wasn’t exactly up to ol’ Halloween’s standards yet, but he had full control of the powers he currently had, and was learning more about being a Fright Knight from the man himself.

They’d even had time to plan and make a run on their first Lazarus pit, which had gone… as well as could be expected.)

The point being? His schedule was full. Between homework and crimework, he didn’t have time for fun university extracurriculars the way he’d kinda hoped he would.

But when some of the geeks from his Gothic Lit class asked him to help them set up a haunted house… how the hell was he supposed to say no to that?

Danny sure as hell hadn’t been able to (and had laughed his ass off when Jason mentioned exactly why he had to reschedule one of their hangouts - after all, the two of them just showing up meant that the house was technically being haunted), which was how they’d roped in a couple more kids from the engineering department. At least three were planning to use parts of the set up as their final projects.

(Harper was having a field day rigging all of the floors for piezoelectric lights, sound, and fog machine. The more people jumped or ran, the more dramatic the atmosphere would get.)

So, despite already having basically no free time, he and Danny were now partially responsible for setting up a haunted house.

Jason was pretty sure his classmates had initially wanted him mostly as financial backing; ten minutes after agreeing to help, he’d been shyly approached with links to a set building company and day rates to have them build a “house” on the university grounds.

Jason Todd himself would be damned if he would just be the money man though. No, he wasn’t having his name attached to a haunted house project that wasn’t the best it could possibly be.

And, well, he had access to a lot of surplus construction supplies and actual local handymen, in the form of his gang. He was pretty sure most of them knew that Jay, Red Hood’s right hand man, was Jason Todd Wayne by now; it had never actually come up, but he’d made a few media splashes.

No one seemed actually confused or surprised to be asked to come put up haunted house on university grounds. Just the shell though; Jason demanded integrity from goons and student body both, and firmly told the rest of the Lit class that if they wanted to throw a haunted house, they were bloody well going to decorate and staff it with their own hands.

(About two people had been disappointed. As soon as he’d admitted he’d also footed the bill for supplies, all the rest had been eagerly battling it out over room themes and who got to use the nail guns.

Jason confiscated the nail guns on day three, after Danny and Harper got into a “nail fight”. Because of course they did.)

And, really, most of them had also taken Danny’s “contributions” well too. Because along with the more normal special effects the other engineers was setting up, Danny was serious about putting the “haunted” in the house.

“It’s an ecto-accelerator,” he’d explained cheerfully, slapping the large, chunky device that Jason knew full well was at least three blenders jammed together with car parts. “Gotham’s got a lotta ambient ecto for a normal city, so we’ll get half a dozen blob ghosts by the end of the week.”

A couple of the Gothamites in the group had tittered a little at Gotham being called “normal”, but one or two (the ones Jason happened to know were doing way better in their classes) had looked thoughtful. Slightly suspicious.

Cuz yeah, sure, Gotham was far from normal in almost every way, but most of the people were still unaware of how serious the “occult” menaces to the city were. It certainly wasn’t “the most haunted city in America”, and while the Danny/Phantom secret was still well under wraps, Danny being from Amity Park wasn’t.

He’d made waves in the engineering department from his first solo project, and honestly none of them looked too surprised any more.

One of the Lit geeks had raised a hand like they were in class, which Jason had bullied Danny about for hours.

“Uh… what are blob ghosts? And do we want them? Like… isn’t that cheating if you have actual ghosts? I thought you guys wanted to build effects systems,” they added quickly, glancing from Danny to Harper.

Danny had stared blankly for a moment (possibly from the hand raising), then shook his head.

“Oh, no, the accelerator was my project from last semester. This semester it’s gonna be the ghost shield which keeps all the blob ghosts trapped in the house!”

(And should keep the Curse and the asshole entity locked out and away. Not necessarily, y’know, necessary, but it’d be good to see if it worked.)

Harper had just grinned, hands in her pockets.

“An’ it means I have to build my stuff more than just people-proof, which has gotta be worth bonus points.”

Their other two engineers had agreed, apparently completely down with the occult at this point.

The formation of the blob ghosts was apparently going pretty well. Jason couldn’t reliably sense them yet, but he trusted Danny’s word on it.

And Fright Knight’s.

Because yeah. That. Was a thing that was also happening.

This one was also entirely Jason’s own fault; back at the beginning of October, when he’d first agreed to this whole mess, he’d had to tell people why he was going to be busy.

And. Well.

It made sense at the time to just tell the elder Fright Knight the truth about why they’d had to shift their training schedule. He was the Spirit of Halloween! It was even thematically appropriate!

And frankly, the speed at which Danny had started shaking his head and trying to stop him should probably have been a warning.

But so would telling Jason ahead of time not to tell Halloween that they were going to be working on a haunted house! Danny had even shared the story of the time he stole the original nightmare blade, the Soul Shredder as a prop for his own school haunted house!

And, y’know, incurred Halloween’s wrath and started a whole Thing, but he’d also given the sword back and all seemed to be forgiven now.

(Although. Given. The look in blazing eyes when Danny mentioned it. Not forgotten.)

And it seemed to go fine at the time, so Jason had kinda figured it was just another of those things where Danny was weirdly protective of his “normal” life. Didn’t want ghosts getting involved.

Cuz Halloween was very supportive. Agreed immediately to switch up their schedule, no muss no fuss. Offered to help.

And Danny had refused outright, which obviously made Jason want to agree. And Danny hadn’t actually said why he didn’t want Halloween to help.

(Which, y’know, the guy was right there, but still.)

His arguments had basically boiled down to “no one’s supposed to know I’m the Ghost King, we can’t have the actual Fright Knight following me around”, which was apparently the argument that had carried to keep Frighty from following him to Gotham.

But neither of them had known Jason then. And Jason was a Robin; they were very good at loopholes.

Because really, it wasn’t all that hard for an actual ghost to go undetected. Especially if they only popped in for short visits.

And could there be a better haunted house consultant than the Spirit of Halloween?

“Sir Jason, yon webs are sagging.”

The answer, it had turned out, was yes.

“My liege, real blood would serve much better…”

Almost. Anyone.

“BEWARE!”

And apparently the Box Ghost had overheard somewhere that Danny was now allowing visits to Gotham, on the dual condition of short duration and invisibility.

Snatching the box of tiny robot spiders before it could be dumped out, Jason glared at the spot Pitty was growling at.

“Boxy, seriously. We talked about this!” He hissed, wrapping both arms firmly around the box.

A few plaintive tugs, and then the Box Ghost gave up. On that box. And another five cardboard boxes of supplies rose into the air.

“FEAR THE POWER OF THE BOX GHOST!”

“Once the damn house is finished, Boxy! There’s still stuff in all of these. Didn’t I promise to build you a box fort if you could just be cool for another week?”

A blue, capped head popped into visibility behind one of the floating boxes. He did, at least, look mildly contrite.

“Indeed you did, young knight… but! The Box Ghost needs no assistance! There are none more ferocious nor powerful in the world of objects cardboard and cubular!”

Jason pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut.

“That’s not even a word, Boxy…” and paused when another breath froze on its way out of his mouth.

So did the Box Ghost, floating boxes stilling from their orbit of the room. Almost on reflex, he popped into full visibility just as Halloween did, directly behind him.

The Box Ghost turned slowly, peering up at the much larger armoured figure. Fright Knight narrowed blazing purple eyes down at him. The Box Ghost narrowed his back.

“None. More. Ferocious.” He growled, boxes rising slowly around him.

Halloween put his hand on his sword.

Jason pressed his lips together so he didn’t laugh. Fighting in the living world was currently a Danny-only activity, with Halloween having the only exception - to stop anyone else trying to start trouble. Technically, throwing down over who was scariest with the Box Ghost was not covered.

And, really, not all that much of a question. Even Boxy knew it, deflating as armoured fingers curled around the hilt.

“But in matters of Halloween and frightfulness I will concede,” he grumbled, boxes settling gently back to the floor.

Halloween pointedly turned his attention to Jason instead, who was still very specifically not laughing.

“Young knight, the woman “Harper” has once again weakened your electrical traps. Shall I destroy her, or will you deal with this yourself?” He asked, voice dropped below his usual booming tones only because Danny had sworn to send him back if another student caught him.

Amusement dying almost immediately, Jason rolled his eyes.

“Look, Sir Halloween. We’ve been over this. They’re hers, they’re not death traps, and you shouldn’t be touching them. You know how Danny feels about electricity around his tech.”

A lot of ghosts seemed to know how Danny felt about electricity in general, and how it related to his death. Despite a temporary team up with Vlad, Jason didn’t actually know if the Spirit of Halloween was one of them.

Until it was proved one way or another, or Danny brought it up to the ghost himself, Jason was sticking with plausible deniability.

And the Fright Knight huffed, drawing himself up as his flaming hair flared.

“If the mere existence of such a trap may displease the King, she should be destroyed with all the more vigour!”

Showing irritation never worked with the old knight; for one thing, he couldn’t stop himself from escalating. He just couldn’t. He didn’t know how to back down.

Luckily Jason was more than used to dramatic and boisterous hotheads. He folded his arms instead, raising an eyebrow at the Fright Knight.

“She’s building the power system, Sir Halloween. We talked about this, remember? Using the steps and fear of the guests to power Danny’s stuff?” And the entire rest of the house, but Frighty only cared about Danny.

And had been over this with him and Danny both half a dozen times.

As always, the mention of fear perked him up.

“Ah, yes! Using their own terror against them to power our devices! And… how does that relate to the electricity?” He asked, a little suspiciously.

Well, if he paid attention this time Jason might not have to go through it again. Putting his reclaimed box down, he leaned against the table it had been on.

“It’s called piezoelectricity. Harper’s sensors in the floor detect where people are walking, and the receptors take the extra energy when their feet hit the ground and turn it into electricity. The faster they walk, or if they start to run, the more energy gets converted, and since the electricity powers the lights, sounds, and fog machine, the more people react the more intense the house gets.”

It was actually surprisingly harmless for Harper; she hadn’t even put in any of the small shock plates that had found their way across the floors. That had been all Frighty, and as soon as they found out where he’d gotten them, they’d be going back. Once Danny phased them back out.

Silence reigned for a long moment, and for once the Spirit of Halloween seemed to be really chewing over and digesting this information. Jason let himself hope.

“So… the electricity… it’s definitely not for shocking the unwary intruders?” Halloween asked, with just the faintest tinge of hope still in his own voice.

Fighting not to let his die, Jason shook his head.

“Nope.”

“Not even as a backup plan?”

“Nope. We want people to come and visit, Frighty, that’s the whole point.”

“But what if your enemies use this opportunity to infiltrate your stronghold?” Fright Knight asked boldly, drawing himself up like he was even now standing against such foes.

Jason bit back a grin.

“It’s not a stronghold, Sir Halloween. There’s nothing here they could use against us.”

Silence again.

Then.

“Not even just a little shock?”

“Still nope,” Jason shook his head, arms folded. Safely hiding where his fingers pinched the skin just below his ribcage, holding in a laugh.

Fright Knight was practically pleading.

“Just a small one? A little static shock? They probably won’t even die from it,” he wheedled, and Jason had to stifle a snicker in a cough.

“No! Look, most people will be wearing rubber soled shoes anyway. They wouldn’t even notice,” he pointed out in what was a mostly level voice.

Fright Knight huffed, turning away and grumbling under his breath.

“Rubber can be made to melt…”

Aaaand they were back on that again. Stepping forward, Jason caught him by the shoulder, schooling his face to his most earnest expression.

“You know your advice is always appreciated, Sir Halloween, and the king and I take it very seriously. Should we ever need such traps, you’re the very first person we’ll ask. But this is a diplomatic venture, and chivalry demands we not allow harm to come to our guests.”

It was a line they’d used before; the very first explanation Jason had hoped the bombastic ghost might understand. And he did, usually.

He just. Didn’t seem to remember it. But then, he wasn’t exactly the overly chivalrous kind of knight.

And once again, Halloween drew himself up and pounded on his chest, nodding seriously.

“Of course, Sir Jason! And I shall ensure that this venture of yours is of the utmost success! With no traps that shall interfere with the Harper woman’s electronics,” he added in a low grumble, probably hoping that Jason wouldn’t notice that he hadn’t just said “no traps”.

Again. Former Robin.

Buuuut so long as they turned the traps off before guests showed up, there was no reason he couldn’t ask the other Bats to come do a pre-show run through and see what they made of it.

Pretending to be oblivious, he turned and scooped up the power drill he’d originally come to the storeroom for and saluted the ghost with it.

“Always appreciated, Sir Halloween.”

Danny stuck his hand through the wall, brows furrowed in concentration. He could have used the panel about three feet further down, but then he’d have to reach around at an awkward angle, or yank cables to pull the bundle closer.

Honestly, in his plans the circuitboard should have lined up near perfectly with the damn panel; he’d done his measurements and everything before he started! But no, it was all the way over here, and now he had to deal with this

It was almost like something had snapped off the supports and tangled all the wires up…

There were more cables than there should be.

Again.

No, wait, the intruder wasn’t a cable. It felt… like a rope?

Fighting the urge to bang his head against the wall, he sighed heavily. The temptation to just yank the damn thing out was tempered only by the sounds of construction, impromptu karaoke, and occasional screams of every other member of the project.

Who knew what Fright Knight had rigged this one to do, or where it would actually go off? Other than, y’know, completely fucking his own wiring.

Danny breathed out slowly through his nose, shifting his grip until he was only touching his wiring and not the rope, and phased the whole lot through. He’d turned almost everything off to go wire-spelunking anyway, so it should-

A loud thunk behind him preceded a sudden silence where a low humming had been pretty much ignorable. Danny grimaced, but kept going until the junction was back in place at the access panel before letting it rejoin the physical world.

The ghost shield didn’t immediately power back up, but that was fine. He could give it a couple kicks, maybe try a hard reboot if it was really fussing.

More importantly, he had to find what the hell the Spirit of Halloween had done now. His ecto-accelerator was working as expected, and blob ghosts would all be kept around to feed on the concentrated ectoplasm anyway.

Really, he’d been shutting the shield down anyway to let Halloween in and out.

Maybe he should stop doing that…

Then Danny brightened up.

It was Jason’s fault Halloween was here at all. And it was Jason’s class’s haunted house.

This wasn’t a Danny problem, this was a Jason problem. And maybe next time the stubborn fuck would listen when Danny said something was a bad idea.

Humming cheerfully, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and sent off a quick text, wandering idly back towards the ghost shield generator. One quick kick and it chugged back into life, good as new.

He was gonna have to put some internal batteries in on the next rebuild though. It had to be able to survive a power cut to be worth anything in Gotham.

Flicking into his notes app, he added it to the list of improvements.

While he didn’t actually know where Jason was, he was pretty sure he wasn’t close enough to hear Jason’s response to his text. That was fine though, because he could feel the pulse of exasperated-resigned-annoyed the second he saw it.

Humming happily to himself, he dug out the extra set of cords to let the lights dim in time with any power surges from the ghost shield. It’d only take a few seconds now that the damn board was back in the right place, and should add some extra spooky ambiance once the house started seeing guests and he turned off the accelerator to let the blob ghosts play.

Really, he owed Harper for the idea. He’d been explaining to her how the little guys always chewed on power cables, lack of physical teeth or not, just to get to the current. And technically what she’d actually said was “man it’d be cool if we could get them to fuck with the lights”.

And technically Danny could probably have trained them to actually play with light switches. This would be much easier though, and interestingly random as the blobs bounced around.

All he had to do was hook up these last few connections… and test it out.

And since Halloween was clearly around anyway… he was definitely big enough to make the ghost shield hum a bit. That’d be great for calibration.

And he owed Danny for fucking up his circuitry with his latest booby trap anyway. It all worked out nicely really.

By the time Jason poked his head through the door, Danny was just finishing the last of his adjustments, almost every wire properly soldered into place.

“What’s he done now?” Jason sighed heavily, exasperation both so clear and so clearly a put on that even a normal human would probably feel it radiating off him.

Danny nodded towards the stretch of wall near where he’d last seen the rope.

“No idea, but he’s tied something to something else that got in the way of the ghost shield controls. I fixed that, the inevitable booby trap is all yours,” he added sweetly, blowing Jason a kiss as best he could with both hands busy.

Jason pretended to chomp it out of the air like a shark, and then puke it out. He was getting creative.

Danny could respect that.

“Great, thanks,” he said sarcastically, then frowned at the offending section of drywall. “Is there-“

“No, the access panel is over here,” Danny told him brightly, twisting the last screw down to hold all of the less permanent wires in place. Really, at some point he should probably put a casing over the whole mess. Keep any damp or curious critters out.

But any curious critters were going to be a little busy avoiding curious ghosties, and the ghosties wouldn’t try and move the wires. That’d stop them from being able to siphon the electricity.

Little fuckers.

Maybe also some extra ghost shielding. Hell, the power going into the shield was controlled from this panel, and the main power cables were nicely strung along the back. How hard could it be to extend a little extra shielding…

Jason cut him off from the thought with a heavy, dramatic sigh, thunking heavily into the wall just beside Danny.

“Great. We got time to take another panel out and fix it again?” He asked semi-redundantly, taking in Danny and Heather’s carefully applied pattern of sprayed on filth and decay.

Grinning and straightening, Danny cracked his back and moaned happily.

“In your dreams. Halloween’s a week away, and we open this weekend.”

“So how do you want me to track the trap, your majesty?” Jason asked with a heavy roll of his eyes.

Danny grinned up at him. All the brighter for the sass.

“Oh, that’s not my problem. I’m not the one who said he could be such a huge help,” he shot back cheerfully, taking the moment to roll out his shoulders and do a couple of twists too.

He spent a lot of time hunched over between classwork and this little side quest, and while he wasn’t suffering for it yet, he’d rather not start.

“Besides, do you have anything else to do?” He pointed out with a cheeky grin.

Jason raised an eyebrow at him, arms folded.

“About a million things, yeah. But none more important than making sure our guests don’t get electrocuted,” he added with a sigh, turning to frown at the wall. Reached out and knocked against it gently. “Wish I could just bring the hood out.”

“A little x-ray vision would be a big help,” Danny agreed, already looking for his next task. Would he have time to fuck with the ghost shield a little more to protect the board?

Probably not. While the machine itself was already doing excellent work as the centrepiece of a truly excellent mad science lab (although not up to Fenton standards), it still needed a quick coat of grime of its own, and probably some webbing.

Most of the rest of this room was ready, between Harper’s piezo-floors and Heather’s expert spray paint skills. So long as the shield could affect the lights throughout the house, he could probably finish here in half an hour.

Or delegate to Heather, once all the parts of the ghost shield were safely protected from rogue spray.

Danny could have run by the 3D printers in the Makers Club for some custom shielding pieces, but why bother? Leaning into his toolbox, he pulled out a roll of duct tape.

Glancing back, he was pleased to see Jason’s quiet was because the big guy had already stuck his head in the wall.

Sure, officially no one here was supposed to know about either of their ghost powers (Harper being the obvious exception), but no one was around. And it’d save time dismantling the trap so they could get back to work.

The Lit nerds had come up with the full floor plan by themselves, and while only a couple of them got nail gun privileges, they’d all been excited to get hands on.

And had clearly been relying on their giant tank of a nerd for some of the more hard to reach set up.

Danny could get it floating, or they could schlep ladders around, but why bother when Jason could reach the top of every doorframe already?

Once Jason was done dismantling yet another booby trap.

Reaching out with a foot, Danny gave him a light kick in the ass, knocking a shoulder into the wall.

“Dude, just go invisible and trace it directly. Painting’s gotta be finished tonight to be dry for tomorrow,” he reminded the larger man when Jason pulled his head out to glare at him.

“Such insightful. Very wisdom,” he snarked, straightening himself and returning said glare to the wall.

Danny snickered.

“I’ll tell Tucker you’re after his Miette status.”

“I’ll tell him you called him that again,” Jason shot back immediately, flipping Danny off without looking.

Touché.

Rather than concede the point, Danny got back to his own efforts instead. Time to tape up any cracks and crevices except the heat vents… and yeah, actually, putting a suitably ratty bag or strip on linen to cover those (both for spray paint protection and to flap dramatically) would only add to the atmosphere.

“Just get going while we’re still young and pretty.”

He could feel Jason’s amusement too, a warm balm on his back even over the exasperated-tired-over it from Fright Knight’s continued escapades. Felt it when Jason changed, his aura amping up automatically with his ghost form.

“Yeah, yeah. Why don’t you get your subject in line and remind him we’re not trying to kill anyone?” Jason asked, immediately phasing through the wall to get the last word.

Danny rolled his eyes despite the grin, carefully taping around the joins in the main control panel.

“What, again?” He muttered under his breath, chuckling softly.

As far as he was aware, more than half the problem was that ol’ Halloween wasn’t actually all that clear on what was lethal to humans at all. And that? That wasn’t a problem Danny could solve.

Technically, he could Command the spirit to stop putting up booby traps. Force him into an advisory role only.

(And yeah, Danny had to admit, for all he was a pain in the ass? He’d been right about adding a couple extra googly eyes in covert spots on the bubbling slimes. Super creepy when one rolled up and looked at you.)

Except that Danny hated using his Command on anyone, even when they were being a pain in his ass. It was creepy, kinda gross, and made him feel like a dick.

Besides, with ghosts it was actually way politer to just smack someone upside the head if they were being a shit. Hell, that was usually why they were being a shit.

Danny hesitated, a new thought blooming slowly.

Could… that be why Halloween was being a pain in the ass? Jason’s training hours had been cut back, but their time spent with the original Fright Knight was actually going up now that he was “helping” with the house.

Did he just want their attention? Or was he bored enough to fish around indirectly for a little ghostly rumble?

That would also have to be Jason’s problem, he decided with a philosophical shrug. Like most of the other older ghosts, the old Fright Knight actually avoided throwing down with Danny these days.

Whether it was the same fear that made him bend the knee to Pariah Dark or just plain not wanting to risk even a temporary win and the burden of the crown didn’t actually matter. It wasn’t loyalty; Halloween had been eager enough to bend the knee to Dan, but Dan also commanded him to run around wreaking terror and mayhem.

Danny mostly just asked him to wrestle with any ghosts who tried anything in Amity Park while he was gone; a duty Halloween kicked ass at and seemed to be taking seriously, but wasn’t his idea of fun.

But hey, it got him out of his pumpkin, and out of his lair without the fear of someone trying to seal him again. So long as Frighty mostly obeyed Danny’s orders, no one could even try it without having Danny come kick their ass.

Maybe Danny should let him wreak a little havoc in Gotham on Halloween though. As a treat.

Not his usual “turn inanimate objects into hordes of ghosts to take over the world” shtick, but since Scarecrow usually had dibs on the holiday (and was still decidedly out of action), some of the up and coming rogues were looking to make a name for themselves.

A not particularly nice smile pulled at Danny’s lips.

After all… apparently no one else had ever tried anything on Halloween while Crane was out and about. It could only be a good thing for Gotham as a whole if someone else staked an emphatic claim this year.

Aaaand it’d keep Frighty out from under their feet, or setting up any more booby traps while they got the last details into place.

If any of the bats objected, they could take that up with Jason too. After all, this whole thing was his idea.

The Spirit of Halloween drifted through the house, muttering disconsolately to himself.

All he wanted to do was what he’d been asked; to improve this “haunted house” his king was constructing.

It was certainly a better effort than the one which had first brought the ghost boy to his lair; that had been a single room, and a rather pathetic showing. Bouncy spiders, inflatable figures, utterly unfrightening.

This house had some real potential! Between the elaborate traps the humans were setting in each room and the far more convincing decor, it would be so easy to make something truly terrifying.

All it needed was some more sharp edges… something a little heavier to hang above the doors… and while apparently electrical traps were out of the question, he was sure that something horrific could be done with those powered floors.

Possibly an eject port. Those were new and the potential fascinated him ever since the doctors Fenton showed off their new flying seats.

If the king would only give him a chance, Halloween was sure he could turn this building into a true House of Horrors.

But no. Once again, his ideas were discarded. They would undo his modifications to the floor (and frankly he was rather pleased with how he’d managed to warp its purpose without transforming it into an independent entity; he’d needed to make use of young Sir Jason’s “phone” to learn to adjust the voltage the human way. He’d used his hands and everything because the king did not want him using his blade).

Honestly, why would you invite such an expert if you did not wish to use his advice?

And he wasn’t even supposed to let these foolish humans know he was here, so he couldn’t properly howl his woes to the winds.

Grumbling under his breath instead, he stalked back to the nest of wires he’d modified. If his work were to be undone, he could do it. He was here to help, if they’d just let him.

“Who the hell are you?” A sharp voice asked from behind him as he knelt before the nest, and he froze.

He wasn’t in the habit of being covert; that had been about the most interesting part of the whole debacle thus far.

He wasn’t a stealthy ghost. His presence was part of his armoury, inspiring fear and awe in all who could see him coming. Which only worked if they saw him coming.

He’d forgotten to be invisible.

For all that the king’s wishes had been annoyingly vague, there was just one thing he’d been explicitly clear on.

No mortals were to see him.

Very slowly, his helmet creaked around to face the glowering young mortal woman in the doorway, her hands on her hips.

He. Could. Use the Soul Shredder to send her to her own nightmare dimension. Then no one would know she’d seen him.

Except that the king had forbidden him from using his sword. And the young knight liked the woman Harper and would likely notice her absence.

Wretched nuisance.

She also didn’t seem the sort to scare easily, which he usually appreciated in a foe.

Even under the glare of his blazing purple eyes, she marched straight up to him, hands on her hips, and glowered.

“Are you the asshole who’s been fucking with my power supply?” She asked sharply, actually prodding! Prodding him! With her feeble mortal finger!

And he was unable to appropriately respond!

And if she were a true ally of his king, simply fading from sight would only affirm what he was in her mind…

For a brief moment, he wondered if he could persuade her that he was the Box Ghost, but discarded the idea immediately. No, he was no coward to hide behind another’s name!

Especially not that lowlife.

He would face the punishment from his king, content at least in the knowledge that it would be just, and would not maim or destroy him.

Which meant not smiting the puny mortal who’d rumbled his plans.

Unless…

She was an ally to the young knight. And fearless. And endeavouring to build and properly haunt this house. Perhaps she could be of aid to his own mission…

Which meant he had to be (a grimace hidden entirely under his helmet) tactful. Appealing even.

Straightening to his full height, he then bowed just below hers.

“Indeed, Dame Harper. I must apologize; Sir Jason has informed me of the true intent of your most excellent devices, so I came to repair what I have wrought.” It grated on him, a ghost of his calibre forced to treat any human as an equal… but less than it used to.

A useful opponent, and a worthy one, was hard enough to find. And… horror of horrors… under his new king, he was almost… getting used to it.

She didn’t seem overly impressed, folding her arms and giving him another, more sceptical once over.

“Yeah… and from that get up, I’m gonna guess you’re probably not from the university,” she said dryly.

The Spirit of Halloween cursed internally. Of course! That would have been the perfect excuse! A mere student in a costume! His time of year was all about disguises!

Yet already he’d declared his association to the younger Fright Knight by use of his title. She had already seen through such a potential escape.

Still, it meant she was observant. Passably intelligent. Good marks in an ally.

Better to act like he’d never intended to deceive her, though. It may let him glean some more insight into just how trusted she was.

“I am not.

From lands beyond and sights unseen

Your cohorts called upon me for aid

To plan a magnificent Halloween

So that all who enter be truly afraid.”

One of his better works off the cuff, he thought a little smugly… then deflated a little.

“I was not aware your devices were not some form of trap,” he added in more normal tones.

The corner of her mouth twitched upwards, although her stern expression did not change.

“Uh huh. Yeah, ghost bullshit was gonna be my next guess. You thought the generators were a trap?” She asked, a little incredulously.

Sir Halloween shifted uncomfortably. He still wasn’t used to explaining himself, and wasn’t sure how little he could get away with.

“I believed them an excellent tactic to terrify and incapacitate any land-bound intruders,” he agreed cautiously.

Definitely a smile pulling at her lips this time, though she fought it. Perhaps she would be more amenable to his suggestions than the halfas…

The Harper woman sighed and uncrossed her arms, hands on her hips once more.

“I guess they would work pretty well for that… but nah. I prefer more direct methods if I’m gonna fry someone, don’t want anyone else getting caught in the crossfire,” she added with a wicked gleam in her eye that he very much liked.

Then she pointed her chin at the wiring he’d been about to restore.

“Go ahead and fix that up then, and I’ll decide if I forgive you.”

Commands from a mortal rankled, but it was to do as he’d intended anyway. And would give him more time to assess her potential.

From his understanding, this woman no longer hunted the night, but had been a mighty hunter while nought but a child. Those habits were hard to break.

About to turn back to the panel, he hesitated. If. She was going to watch him work. He would need to remain visible.

And there were far too many mortals in the house.

“Ah… Dame Harper. I have been commanded to remain unseen by those unaware of the Infinite Realms. If you wish to observe, we shall need to ensure others do not come across me.” He hoped she would assume that he hadn’t been meant to hide from her.

He wasn’t sure if he’d succeeded as her smile became distinctly wider and far more devious, looking him up and down one last time.

“No one’s allowed to know about ghosts, huh? And you’re not exactly a subtle one. No worries, I have the perfect plan.”

Grumbling to himself as he pulled the last of the blades from the swinging arms Sir Spookier-Than-Thou had set up through the upstairs and downstairs hall, Jason gave the mechanism one last look.

He could dismantle the whole thing if he had to, but that’d take time. And besides, it was pretty good work.

All he had to do was slow the swing a little, find something a little more family friendly to add to each arm, and it’d be a pretty bangin’ addition to their haunted house.

He wasn’t sure if he should tell the Spirit of Halloween that or not; if he’d feel better knowing his work was appreciated, or get over excited and back on his bullshit.

Either way, someone was going to cart these mysteriously glowing blades back to the Ghost Zone that they’d surely come from, and it wasn’t gonna be him. About six of his classmates were waiting on him to help with some final additions, and while most of it could pretty easily have been done with a scaffold, they didn’t have time to build one.

Not when Jason could just reach up.

Or a couple of the other guys could just stand on a bucket, but hey. His room was pretty much complete, all he needed was to test the spring loaded launchers on his “batarangs” and he was done.

(The day he’d discovered the cute, stylized little marshmallow bats he’d known exactly what he had to do with them. B was just lucky it had been close enough to Halloween that Jason decided to go with this first.

It did make a nice test run for the Bat Cave though.)

There might be a couple more cosmetic tweaks, some spit and polish, but he’d be essentially ready.

They weren’t exactly in competition, no scoring or voting or anything, but the Lit geeks in particular had been gushing and bragging about their own horror rooms from day one. Some of them were honestly really impressive; Heather’s 13 Ghosts setup that Danny had hooked the ghost shield into was extremely well designed, and used pretty much every inch of the master bedroom.

Ray and Tyra had both gone with more classic horror (and adjoining rooms; Jason particularly liked the chase from Tyra’s Grimm fairytale forest to Ray’s werewolf lair), and they actually had four different set ups featuring Bram Stoker’s Dracula.

While those might have been more obscure before Dracula Daily (and included less internet jokes), Jason enjoyed the narrative that started in the back room of the first floor, up the stairs (the road to castle), a gorgeous crypt, and then the final ascent to the roof and the opportunity for guests to “climb” down the wall (in lizard fashion, obviously) over an air bag or take the “Descent To Hell” (an inflatable red twirly slide that Danny still wanted to slick with dish soap. Jason and OSHA both disagreed).

There wasn’t exactly a unifying theme beyond “horror”, but they had at least planned ahead enough to group the rooms by type. The decorations along the halls to gradually show the genre changes would be the last things going up, but Jason was pretty sure the new swinging arms would be a great addition.

It wouldn’t be a seamless change, but it would be on brand.

And sure, technically his own Phantom of the Opera room was also one of the outliers from a thematic and stylistic perspective (because he’d chosen the book, not the stage show - although he had snagged the score and had a play around in an editing suite for background music).

He’d taken the “basement” for the forgotten halls below the opera house, so it didn’t really matter that his dripping stone, hall of mirrors, and final Grand Decision were a lot more classically gothic than the rugged and rural first floor, or the more urban and scifi second. He’d been able to source a bunch of old theatre dressings from a recent rogue attack, so it had been easy to set the bones up.

It was a great house, and while he’d been a little worried about the size when they’d drawn up the plans, they were pretty much on schedule.

Despite the interference of the Spirit of Halloween.

Who was gonna go drop stuff off in the Ghost Zone, and maybe just stay there until the night itself. Jason couldn’t give the command or make it stick, but Danny could, and probably would if the Spirit mucked with his new tech one more time.

For all that he insisted this whole mess was Jason’s fault (and therefore Jason’s problem), he was the one who decided how far any of it went.

Wondering idly what he could suggest to get Frighty back under Danny’s feet, he tossed the last blade in a decidedly triangular box and hoisted it quickly.

He wasn’t entirely sure what the blades were made of, or what they’d do (the Soul Shredder was a unique weapon that he hadn’t made himself, but Jason had no idea what he could make), but he wanted the Box Ghost to get his hands on them even less than he wanted his fellow students to.

All he had to do was find ol’ Halloween… and the big guy never really bothered to shield himself. It took very little focus to expand his aura through the rest of the house these days, and he didn’t even need to get past the first floor. The Spirit of Halloween was at the back, the room below Danny’s where Harper had her main boards and batteries set up for ease of use.

(It wasn’t technically part of the attraction, but she’d still made it look spooky and on theme in case anyone peeked around the door.)

But the Fright Knight had better be in there fixing things or hiding from people, not fucking with the piezoelectrics again, or Jason was gonna start a training session of his own on the spot.

(Not that he’d reliably win a regular fight; he was damn good, but the Spirit of Halloween was older, more used to ghost powers, and loved his sword and duels almost as much as he loved poetry and terrorizing the wretched.

But on Earth, with more than half of their powers denied them by Danny’s rules? Jason could come for his ass.)

————

Listen. This is not the universe for short oneshots, okay?

But there are some sneaky hints for the road ahead in our main timeline too, for attentive eyes 👀

Happy Halloween!

#dp x dc #dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp #halloween #danny fenton dead and loving it #dfdali #dead and loving it halloween special #the haunting of hood house #danny and jason make a haunted house!#all will go perfectly well #i promise #for sure #no issues anywherw #happy halloween’

160 notes · View notes

art · 9 months ago

Text

Creator Spotlight: @jijidraws

Jiji Knight is a latina pinup illustrator. Her work is overall geared toward thick ladies and dedicated to fat positivity out of a purely selfish need to create art she wished she had seen growing up. She often features sexy and soft macabre themes on vibrant or sweet colours and takes great joy in making folx feel good about themselves with her work. She holds a Bachelor of Fine Arts in Illustration and operates out of her very sunny hometown of Las Vegas.

Check out our interview with Jiji below!

Have you ever had an art block? If so, how did you overcome it?

Oh my gosh… I have art blocks all the time. My favorite way of overcoming it is by making fanart. Funnily enough, that’s something I don’t do in my own work anymore. But there are still IPs I return to that still bring joy to my heart. I love returning to drawing Sailor Moon like when I was in first grade. Or I’ll even look up the last fashion week and start drawing the fashion week outfits from the Paris or New York show. Stuff like that is what gets my creative juices flowing.

What medium have you always been intrigued by but would never use yourself?

Resin. Resin art is so stunning. People make the most amazing and beautiful sculptures using resin, and I don’t think I could ever bring myself to play with something so complicated. There are a lot of ways to cure it, and sometimes, it doesn’t cure properly…I already work with enough chaos as it is! I respect resin artists, but I don’t think I would ever touch it. I’ve admired it from a distance. There is an artist I follow who does these resin layer paintings. So they’ll paint a layer of resin, then cure it, and paint on top of the cured layer. They build up these amazing paintings using resin…I could never. Maybe one day!

What is one interaction you had with a fan of yours that has stuck with you over the years?

I still remember…It was my first and only Flame Con in New York. I had a fan come up to my booth. They didn’t say hello or that it was nice to meet me. They started to cry! They cried, and the first words out of their mouth were, “I’ve never seen myself in artwork before.” So, of course, I started to cry! So we were just crying across the table at each other. It was just one of the sweetest interactions, and it really sticks with me still to this day.

What is a recent creative project that you are proud of?

My latest collaboration with the artist Missupacey. We’ve been collaborating for two years now, and our last collaboration was for Midsummer Scream. It was two very cute clown girls, and I designed our T-shirt. It was one of the most fun projects we’ve done in a long time. We love doing collaborative work because it keeps working in the art industry fresh—being able to bounce ideas back and forth. So we do it where someone picks the color palette, and someone picks a theme. We’ll get references together, put them on a big board, and send each other sketches. It’s really nice to work with somebody else.

How has technology changed the way you approach your work?

Honestly, it changed everything. I mean, I used to draw for myself a lot. And while I still do that, I now predominantly draw for my Patrons. For a while, I was drawing for the internet. So I was drawing stuff people wanted to see in terms of plus-sized versions of characters—a plus-sized Poison Ivy or a plus-sized Sailor Moon. My Patrons have allowed me to start drawing for myself again. But technology, for a while, essentially dominated what direction I was taking with my art, so I’m grateful to take some of that power back.

If there is one thing that you want art enthusiasts to remember you by, what would it be?

Body positivity. I would love for them to remember that there is an artist making work that is making people feel good about themselves and about the way they look at themselves.

Top tips on setting up an Artist Alley booth?

Have a method of taking money, have a method of displaying your work, and have a way to take a break. I have a plastic picnic cover that costs like a dollar at any store. All I have to do is clip it to my display grates, and it covers up my entire display. I feel secure enough to take time for myself in a 10-hour workday to eat something, go to the restroom, or even take a moment to breathe and reorganize my inventory. So it’s so funny that this one-dollar piece of plastic is like the most life-saving item in my display of items.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

@mayakern comes to mind. She is another body-positive artist who expanded into making body-positive clothing. She’s amazing, and just to see someone else out there promoting body positivity. Maya’s been doing it longer than I have, I believe. It feels good to know that I’m not alone. Her work is always stunning, and I love her body-positive DnD characters and the fact that she’s still plowing through the clothing industry. For example, she’s expanded from skirts to button-downs and even custom-wrap shirts. I love to see what she’s doing, and it inspires me to pursue different avenues with my own work.

Thank you so much for stopping by and sharing, Jiji! Be sure to check out their Tumblr blog over at @jijidraws.

#creator spotlight #artists on tumblr #jijidraws

1K notes · View notes

hotvintagepoll · 5 months ago

Note

can yo utalk more about how the costume designers are different?

Sure!

There are no hard-and-fast rules for telling one designer's work from another, because most designers adapt their style to the story they're telling—a sign of a good design is if you don't notice it, because it feels so natural and a piece of the world of the movie. But I still think you can see connections and quirks in a designer's body of work that show what they specifically bring to each project.

Walter Plunkett—sense of humor. I mentioned this earlier but there's a brightness to Plunkett's work, a sense of perspective on the story he's telling and how he's translating it into clothes—Seven Brides for Seven Brothers has dresses made of Salvation Army quilts, which shows some creative thinking about how his stranded characters would build outfits from nothing; Singin' in the Rain is self referential to the silly things he wore and designed as a young man in the 20s; Gone with the Wind has that fun curtain dress, where he intentionally keeps the tassel as a tell on its origins. That kind of thing might sound easy, but keeping a sense of humor and context present in the costume design is vanishingly rare. His clothes can trend a little camp, but I think that's part of the fun.

Edith Head—high fashion styling. Edith's favorite movies to design for were pieces with High Fashion Moments™, things that leaned heavily on sophistication, suits, and showing the clothes as clothes. You can see this in Grace Kelly's gowns in Rear Window, Kim Novak's suit in Vertigo, Bette Davis in All About Eve—elegant designs that have minimal trim or color, that get their power from their clean lines, tailoring, and very specific detail points.

Helen Rose—also trends toward camp, but less because of little humorous touches like Plunkett and more because of her fondness for gaudy colors and extravagant details. She rarely nails the tailored elegance of Head, but she makes up for it by going bold—her designs have a sense of big-ness to them, plus that love of color where they punch right off the screen.

Adrian—if there's a weird shoulder pad or some angular tailoring happening, Adrian is probably involved. You know Adrian's work from The Wizard of Oz—he loves high proportions, and builds his work off of them.

Orry-Kelly—I haven't found a consistent tell across his work, but if he's the designer you can tell it's going to be a banger.

#hotvintagethoughts #asks #costume design

215 notes · View notes

sailoryooons · 2 years ago

Note

Request: Alpha Yoongi x omega reader. Werewolves. Smut and fluff. Dom Yoongi and sub reader. Starting with non-sexual dominance like her kneeling at his feet. Then, kind of a fear/primal chase in the woods as foreplay. Smut. And then aftercare with nesting.

❀ Pairing: Alpha Werewolf!Yoongi x Omega werewolf! F. reader

❀ Summary: Your alpha wants to go on a hunt through the woods. Who are you to deny him?

❀ Word Count: 8,727

❀ Genre: A/b/o, werewolves, supernatural, established relationship

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: I have never used the word scent and smells this much in my life please forgive me for I have used it a million times, alpha/omega dynamics, Yoongi chasing through the reader for fun, light predator/prey play, sexually explicit content including unprotected sex (f. receiving), breeding kink, mention of ruts, oral sex (f. receiving) not a lot of foreplay, a ton of being in subspace and hormone drunk, reader is pretty much a pillow princess/borderline free use for Yoongi, a lot of slick and soft dom Yoongi/sub reader, hint at aftercare and nesting

❀ Published: April 11, 2023

❀ A/N: Hi okay so I re-wrote this like three times because every time I did it, I wasn’t getting what I wanted out of filling this request, but I think I finally have something that I am happy with! It went in a little bit of a different place, but I hope that you like it! I am super unused to writing werewolves and a/b/o and I had such a good time dipping my toe in - it’s something I want to write in the future where I have some room to world build and go crazy on word count hehehe. Enjoy!

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask | Milestone Event Request Fill |

Trees flash by you as you run, hands pumping at your sides, heart thundering in your chest. A pack of rabbits startle as you run by, bolting into their little dens. The earth is damp beneath your feet, still saturated with morning rain. You almost loose your footing more than once as you spring over a fallen tree, dry-rotted and full of ants.

The pine trees are packed tight, shafts of moonlight painting the forest floor in spotlights of silver as you run. The low-hanging branches catch you on your flight, needles stinging your skin but not drawing blood. Still, you snarl as a branch cracks under your barefoot, sending a sharp pang through your sole.

You don’t stop, moving blindly toward the south of your territory. You don’t look over your shoulder to see where he is - you don’t need to. Even with a small head start, Yoongi is far faster than you are, and you swear the land changes at his command, putting tangled vines where you don’t remember them being, adding a hole to trip you up as you sprint through the trees.

Yoongi isn’t magic, of course. He cannot change the lay of the land any more than you can, but he walks among these trees and hills every night. Plus, you’re frantic in your runaway, your human instincts bluring, somewhere between wolf and person.

Run, little omega, Yoongi had whispered, pupils blown out, scent heady and hypnotizing. You’d only just come through the door to find him standing in the living room on the edge of pre-rut. Run and don’t let me catch you.

Except Yoongi is going to catch you. You can hear the squirrels in the trees chattering angrily at him as he crashes through the woods behind you. He doesn’t have to be quiet - he is the top of the food chain here, he has nothing to fear. And neither do you, really. You’re a predator too, a wolf born and bred in these woods.

There is only a single thing you are prey to and he is laughing manically behind you as he hunts you down.

Movement to your right catches your eye. Yoongi’s trying to cut you off, coming from the west of the woods to intercept you as you scramble south. You snarl and change direction, swerving southeast to put distance between the two of you.

“Ah, come on, omega!” he hollers behind you, voice closer than you expect. You move faster, desperate to outrun him.

This far south of your house is a ravine. You know that if you slide down the side and run east, you’ll end up in Jungkook’s territory. A place your’e definitely not allowed to go, especially right now. You throw caution to the wind anyways, making a line for the ravine, singularly focused on making the slide down.

You never make it, Yoongi slamming into your side and knocking you off your feet. You scream as you go down hard, but not hard enough to do more than jar your bones. Yoongi takes the brunt of your fall; you pressed against his chest, his back hitting the ground hard before he rolls.

Gasping for breath, you claw at him, scraping to move from where he has you pinned. He laughs, catching your hands in one fist and slamming them above your head. His grip and the sound of him snarling your name has you snap to attention, going boneless.

Yoongi is panting heavily against you, filling your space with his scent. Your eyes flutter as your chest heaves, trying to catch your breath. Every inhale has your sense flooding with Yoongi’s scent: pine and sage, edged with something heaver and muskier.

Alpha near rut.

It makes your head spine and for a second, your vision of him goes a little blurry. He lets go of your hands but you don’t move. He knows you won’t, pinned under the heavy weight of him as he straddles your waist, sitting on you.

Blinking the heaviness from your eyes, you look up at him and it feels like the world stops.

Yoongi’s round face is framed by dark, black hair. It’s a little damp with sweat, clinging to his brow bone. His feline eyes are sharp and wild, pupils dilated with the frenzy of the hunt. A single, dark scar mars his right eye. You used to feel a pang of guilt looking at it, a reminder of what being an alpha had cost him.

Now, though, you think of it fondly. You’ve traced it hundreds of times with your fingers, know every smooth and knotted surface of the injury. Yoongi is beautiful with and without it, lips glossy as his tongue darts out to wet them.

“You smell so good,” Yoongi growls, leaning down. You hold your breath as he leans toward your neck, nosing the scent gland there. Stars burst behind your eyes and you shiver underneath him, let out a whimper. He laughs, the sound low and scratchy in your ear. “Could smell you all the way from the house.” Yoong’s hands runs down your hips, skirts your thigh, and slips between your legs. He presses his fingers against your jeans. “Could smell this perfect little cunt for miles.”

A high-pitched whine leaves you as Yoongi presses harder, fingers providing the barest amount of friction. The ache between your legs is growing painful, your stomach twisting in arousal in response to the smell of him, the touch of him. An omega responding to their alpha in pre-rut, nearly on the brink of instrictual frenzy.

Forming coherent thoughts is difficult, especially when you’re mind is in a state that’s more wolf than human. That’s the struggle with werewolves, toeing the line between human and animal. Instinct and choice. Your body does not choose to respond to him on a chemical level, but you don’t mind. It’s Yoongi. Your Yoongi. Your mate.

“I told you not to get caught.”

You huff, irritation stoking you. He mouths at your throat over your gland, making you nearly pass out. “You’re faster than I am.”

“That isn’t true.”

Yoongi distracts you with a wet, hot lick over your mating mark. You let out a loud moan, not even trying to hide it this time. He laughs as you squirm under him, silenced when he growls your name. “Is that true, omega?” He asks, mouthing at your jaw. You can hardly understand his line of questioning as your thoughts and feelings blur. “Am I really faster than you?”

For a few moments, you don’t respond. Everything feels heightened, the sound of Yoongi’s voice buzzing against the corner of your mouth as he brushes his lips across your skin, not kissing you exactly. You’re hyper-aware of the smell of him, threatening to drive you into madness. Feel the way his hips press to against yours.

“Omega.” Yoongi’s voice is final.

“No,” you admit. “You’re not faster than me.”

“So you let me catch you?”

“I thought about it.” Yoongi nose bumps yours. Your eyes flutter shut as his mouth barely touches yours and you speak against his lips, “But then I decided I wanted to win.”

“And you were running to Jungkook’s hmm?” You wince and he hums, knowing he’s right. “Bad omega. Little wolves running into another alphas territory while they’re being hunted isn’t a very good idea, huh?”

“Would you have followed?”

“Of course I would. You’re mine. I would follow you into a fucking fire. Little Jungkookie’s territory is nothing.”

It’s a simple declaration, but you know what it means for an alpha to boldly claim he would enter another wolf’s territory, to break a line of demarcation. You can’t help but smile, leaning your head upward to press a kiss to his lips, hungry and tired of running from him.

Yoongi lets you, though you feel the shape of a smirk through the sweet taste of his mouth, warm against yours. Yoongi sinks his hips heavily against yours and you moan into his mouth, spurring him further. Your hands remain where he left them, outstretched above your head as he licks into you, no longer content to let you kiss him the way you want.

His kisses consume you. He takes your breath away, hand leaving the apex of your thighs to snake up your front, loosely gripping your throat. You feel dizzy. He doesn’t squeeze, doesn’t do anything but rest his hand at the base of your neck, fingers pressed lightly to the sides of your throat.

It’s comforting, having him smother you like this. You get lost in the wet tangle of his tongue, your skin burning up from the inside out. He rolls his hips into you, but it’s not enough. You need him, a fire sparking to life that burns hotter than you can manage.

A feverish need comes over you. Yoongi senses the shift. His kisses turn to bites, teething gently at your skin as he works you out of your clothes. You still haven’t moved your hands and when he glances at them, he grins.

Your eyes are only for him, shrouded in darkness as he pulls your pants down, then your shirt. Your eyes are sharp in the dark, able to see the rippling muscle of his arms and shoulders. The dusty nipples, the swells and planes of his chest and stomach. See the way his gaze is fucked out when he’s barely touched you, shuffling down your legs, hands skimming and grabbing the soft meat of your thighs.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, eyes dragging from the wet smear down your thighs, to your hands above your head. You whine under his gaze and he grins, feral and sharp. “So obedient for me.”

“You like hands above head until you say so.”

“I do.” Yoongi bows low, grabbing your legs and hiking them over his shoulders. Your world spins, feeling his breath on your cunt as he makes a low sound in his throat. “Fucking wet, just how I like it.”

Yoongi licks a sloppy path up your pussy and you gasp, head digging back into the grass. It’s almost painful, the need for him pulsing between your legs. He hums, sucking at your clit hungrily. Your toes curl and you hide your face in your arm, the urge to squirm away from the stimulation strong.

You’re an exposed wire under Yoongi’s tongue as he eats you out, messy and wet. He laps at your hole, eager to taste you, nose pressed against your clit, teasing. You whimper his name, thighs clenching, fisting your hands together as you fight to remain still. It’s nearly impossible, this stillness he’s asked of you. You want to reach down and thread your fingers through his hair, want to dig your nails in and scratch, want to pull him close and shove him away.

The sounds he makes are obscene, alternating between sucking loudly and flicking his tongue against your throbbing clit. It’s pleasure-laced pain. You want him to fuck you, to sink into you as deep as he can until you can’t do anything but take it. But you like this too, the way Yoongi’s tongue works your clenching hole.

A high-pitched keen leaves your mouth. He looks up at you, eyes half-lidded as he sticks his tongue out, making a show of licking your cunt top to bottom. Your tongue is heavy in your mouth as you mumble his name, speech slurred.

“Hmm?” he asks, grunting against you as he works you closer to an orgasm, which hovers in the distance. He looks up at you again, sees the tears lining your eyes. “You can touch me,” he murmurs, saying the world between lush licks between your folds. “Greedy omega.”

And so what if you are greedy. Yoongi gives you everything you want. He makes a grumble about it, rolling his eyes and sometimes acting like it’s a little inconvenience, but you know he loves it- loves this. Loves letting you get away with things when you ask sweetly.

Yoongi’s hair is silky and a little sweaty as you run your fingers through it, nails scratching at his scalp the way he likes. His moan is muffled against your pussy and you wriggle beneath him. It feels so good, your stomach in knots. Your limbs begin to tingle and you feel that tight, squeezing feeling in your core, clenching hard.

You squeeze your eyes shut. Dig your nails into Yoongi’s scalp and he growls at the pain. You think your breaking skin, nails turned into claws, limbs shaking as your orgasm tightens and tightens until it feels like you can’t breath, like the world is going to crack in half.

And then it breaks. Your orgasm floods out of you in a rush, your muscle spasming so hard that you scream. Heels digging into the dirt, fingers tangled in Yoongi’s hair, head whipped to the side, cheek pressed into the ground and eyes squeezed shut so hard you see colors exploded behind your eyelids.

Heavy-limbed and feeling drunk, you drop your legs open a bit. Yoongi’s hands are on your hips, flipping you over. You don’t have the strength to hold yourself up, hands buckling under you, face pressed to the back of your palms. He says something that you can’t hear, your head still swimming in the clouds.

Every one of your joints feels melted, unable to lock together to support your weight. It doesn’t matter. Yoongi does it for you, lifting you up so that you’re on your knees, thighs spread wide. Air cools the wet mess on your legs. You realize you’re dripping past your knees.

Yoongi’s palms feel like fire on your flushed skin. He wraps and arm around your waist, pulling you back to his chest, the other looping under your arm so he can grab your neck firmly. This time, he does squeeze, fingers placed perfectly on the sides of your throat.

Everything around you feels like cotton candy fuzz, fluffy and sweet. Your head lolls back, resting on his shoulder as his teeth find your shoulder, nipping your skin. Behind you, his cock slides gently between your folds, making you hiss.

“Gonna fill up this pussy,” Yoongi murmurs. “Gonna fuck you full, yeah?”

You nod your head. “Yeah.” The word slurs on your tongue. “Please, want it.”

“You’re already fucked out from just my mouth, omega.”

“So?”

He chuckles darkly. His cockhead catches your clenching hole and you whine, hands going to clutch the arm on your waist and holding your throat. “Have you no decency, hm?”

“No. Yoongi please, it hurts. Please just - please.”

“Shhh.” Yoongi places a warm, wet kiss on your jaw. “I’ve got you. You know I’ve got you?”

Words are too hard, so you nod. Yoongi places another sweet kiss on your cheek before he shuffles and thrusts into you, smooth on the upstroke. You gasp, breath knocked out of you as he slides to the hilt. Yoongi’s cock is thick and though you’re soaked, the stretch is intense, your walls clinging to him in a vice grip.

Behind you, Yoongi curses. His hand tightens, and it gets just a little bit harder to breath. Slowly, he retracts before snapping forward again, stroke slow but hard. He groans, focused on setting a leisurely and smooth pace. Every thrust of his hips makes his cock hit deep, punching the air from your lungs. With his fingers pressing against your throat, it gets harder to take in more air, making you light-headed, the forest spinning.

It feels so good, this blooming pleasure inside of you. Every time he hits your soft spot just right, you feel closer to madness. Yoongi squeezes your throat tighter. His skin is warm and sweaty, sliding against yours, the friction making your eyes roll back.

Yoongi’s teeth scrape your shoulder. Sink in just a little, not enough to draw blood, but you feel the sting. It’s good, pleasure-laced pain. And then he’s telling you to let go, to come around him. You deny your alpha nothing, eyes fluttering shut as you squeeze tight tight tight.

“Fuck,” Yoongi snarls. You come so hard he has to stop thrusting, your pussy clenching around him with everything you’ve got. You’re not breathing, air stuck in your lungs, blood rushing in your eyes, stars behind your eyes. “Breathe,” Yoongi pants, letting go of your throat. You suck in a sharp breath of air, flooding your lungs. “That’s it. You can take it, yeah? Can take it til I fill you up?”

“Yes, alpha.”

It’s a mumble of words. You’re not even sure if it comes out right. Yoongi holds you to him, doesn’t mind that you're boneless. Your fingers thread his where his hands grip you, squeezing as your head cradles against his neck. You nose him there, drawing all sorts of feral sounds from him as he chases his orgasm, driven to the edge while you scent him. He comes with a loud sound, maybe your name or something else. You’re not sure.

Yoongi smells like home. Well - smells like earth and come and sweat and trees and pheremones. But his smell is there, pine and sage. Wild and gentle. Earth and cleansing. You love the smell of him, you have since you met him.

“Rest.” Yoongi’s voice sounds faraway. “I’ve got you.”

Weightlessness takes over. You don’t remember moving and you don’t remember Yoongi pulling out of you and picking you up. You’re drunk off his scent, hormones throwing you over the cliff and into a deep lake, where you float aimlessly. Comforted.

Soft sheets slide against your skin. You turn your face and breathe in, smelling Yoongi everywhere. It’s warm and you smell you too. Rosemary and mint. Your scents linger together, making you feel at home. Loved. Safe.

Something jostles you a little. You slow-blink an eye open, realizing you’re at home, tucked into the corner of your room you like to use for nesting. Blankets of Yoongi’s are piled eye and there are shirts and hoodies that belong to him. Some shirts that belong to you. Things that remind you of the two of you, that feel like you both.

Yoongi is tucked behind you, breath puffing against your ear. His eyes are closed when you curve your head to look at him. “Sleep,” he rasps, not opening his eyes. “And thank you for the hunt. I’m not done with you. But I’m tired.”

You smile and close your eyes, drifting to sleep in the safety of Yoongi’s arms.

#yoongi smut #suga smut #bts yoongi #yoongi fanfic #alpha yoongi #yoongi x reader #omega reader #yoongi x you #bts fanfic #bts smut #werewolf au

1K notes · View notes

fountainpenguin · 1 month ago

Text

Dimmsdale Rich Families Analysis

Misc. musings that haunt me daily...

I love Dimmsdale's rich families... You've got the Dimmadomes who are all about real estate, fancy buildings, hosting city events, and (Thanks to Dale) they got into tech and shipping.

Contrast that with the "old-fashioned pencil and paper" vibes of the Leadlys, plus the Buxaplentys running the trains... It's a triangle of supporting each other's businesses (and thus, the rich get richer).

This post written under the assumption we're treating these episodes as canon, though I cherrypick "Country Clubbed" in my worldbuilding and I use Dimmsdale's founding year from Season 3 over the one given in Season 9.

General Background

Several flashback episodes imply the FOP world exists in a timeline where the English settled at least part of the west coast in 1665 (as opposed to the Spanish).

- Presumably, this is one of the unique things a universe-hopper like Jimmy Neutron would identify this world by. - On that note, people are heavily implied to "stand differently" in the FOP world, which is why visitors from other dimensions react with surprise when they see their bodies (and fall over before they get their footing):

Just some fun "alt reality" vibes. Enjoy your visit; sea legs required.

Notably, this is also a universe where trains existed on the west long before they existed in ours, but we'll get to that.

Today I'm discussing the Dimmadomes, Leadlys, and Buxaplentys, but for anyone who's interested in learning more about rich families, Season 9's "Country Clubbed" namedrops a bunch.

Dimmadome Family

We know the Dimmadomes for their impact in the modern world- they're always innovating, hopping from one thing to the next. Dale does seem to have consistency in the businesses he owns (though I am DYING to question what his plans are for that indoor amusement park).

Doug doesn't seem able to commit to anything for long, though we know he's very proud of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome. He hosts many events throughout the series, from music shows to wrestling to demolition derbies.

Dimmsdale was founded in 1665, named after Dale Dimm (following him throwing Alden Bitterroot the witch down a well). It's possible Dale Dimm is an ancestor of the Dimmadomes, given what we know about:

- Dimmadomes having their hand in things (including the founding of Dimmadelphia). - One Dimmadome ancestor using the surname Dimm ("Lost and Founder's Day"). - Dale Dimm's very tall, barefoot figure is a hilarious ancestor choice for Doug "tall hat" and Dale "boot obsessed" descendants when you think about it.

While it's heavily implied Dale was born into generational wealth, we can't confirm whether that was (or wasn't) true for Doug. It's possible his family helped him get his start, but he seems to have kicked off his own success story by mining for gold (Presumably at a young age given that was back in 1953 and the main FOP series kicks off in 2001).

I like to think Doug (prior Dale's birth) changed his family's surname to Dimmadome to move away from the negative connotation of Dimm and commit himself fully to his big and shiny brand image.

Doug's a pretty interesting character! He's not afraid to get involved in his projects and work hard personally, as opposed to outsourcing- a trait he and his son Dale seem to share.

Doug also seems pained to surrender a check to Timmy in "Odd Ball" (even asking for a minute to say good-bye to his money), which isn't far off from Dale's attitude towards stocks.

He was even down to move to Alaska to follow the Ballhogs basketball team. He loves throwing all his chips on the table and doesn't back out easily. He also goes all-in with promotional outfits, like the parka above or his chicken costume in "Chicken Poofs."

That said, he might have some "sunk cost fallacy" views towards some of the stuff he buys. While the basketball team cheered they'd won the game by a close shave, Doug's first remark was that now he'd have to figure out what to do with all the stuff he bought in prep for their move to Alaska. He immediately started eating the Blubber Nuggets he would no longer be able to sell.

In "Chicken Poofs," when Doug sees the town inside his restaurant's chicken-dunking cages, his first thought isn't "Oh my gosh, I have to save these people." It's "These people stole my chickens- I'm ruined!" However (at Timmy's advice), he comes back from the loss of his chickens by selling the eggs they left behind. He wasn't about to go home empty-handed.

I'm obsessed with Doug's chicken-dipping machinery having labels so the thing one step up from Deep Fry is The Sun, and the step up from Sun is Lava. When would he ever need a dial that goes that high?

A "waste not, want not" attitude is fascinating in contrast to Dale being so incredibly wasteful, he brought two single-use helicopters on his trip to the park in "Stanky Danky." Is Dale rebelling against Doug's "We have to make the most of everything" parenting style? I think that plays really well into my vision of Dale being the first born into excessive wealth, while Doug possibly worked his way up after striking gold in 1953. Dale is wasteful, Doug more practical.

Doug is also over-the-top ridiculous and would sooner work around his love for tall hats than stop wearing them.

He owns a boot-shaped phone and a laptop with an armadillo logo, apparently. I'm not sure what they were going for with the armadillo - it's probably just random or meant to represent high security - but I looked it up and in Mayan folklore, armadillos are perceived as cunning critters that outwit people and dodge consequences thanks to their shells, which... Yeah, I think that sums the Dimmadomes up pretty well. Fun fact, but armadillos are one of the only things Fairy magic can't affect ("Teacher's Pet") because magic bounces off their shells. My Anti-Fairy biology incorporates pink fairy armadillo biology because we know Anti-Fairies are also immune to most Fairy magic. Just kind of a "Hm" implication, especially since "Crock Talk"' here and "Teacher's Pet" are both Season 7 episodes. I guess the other horrifying option is that Doug eats armadillos the way you eat apples, but...

I'm also of the opinion that Doug torched things in the Learnatorium, given what we know about the Learnatorium's interior ("Totally Spaced Out") and this scene of Doug "destroying childhood memories" in "Odd, Odd West"

In fact, it's not even a reach to say Doug takes pride in destroying people's cherished childhood memories. He seems to "look down on wasteful, childish things" and seems to value anything that is more useful in performing a task or turning a profit. Again, that's big "Everything must be useful and we can't waste space" energy (and presumably reflects on his offscreen parenting).

Where my fanworks are concerned, I love the idea that Doug paid for personal tutors to help Dale adjust to society and/or some basic schooling. Say... maybe an elementary teacher to start with? I don't think it would be unreasonable to theorize Crocker was involved with that, at least at first, as it helps justify the money he would've needed to expand the Crocker cave in the early days. -> We know from S4's "Genie Meanie Miney Mo" that Mr. Birkenbake states he can't afford a garage because he "doesn't make Crocker money," implying resentment... which is pretty interesting when you consider that Crocker also doesn't have his own place because he moved back in with his mom after university, and not even to his old room (Instead to a room above the garage). -> We know from S6's "Wishology Pt. 2" that Crocker stole the money intended for "the school's new science wing" and used that to pay for some of his tech, like his rocket. Both these episodes come well after S2's "Nectar of the Odds," so it's interesting to consider Crocker getting money earlier to support his tech pursuits in Seasons 2 and 3.

Dale seems to feel strongly about his dad- If it's not love, it's obsession and Grade-A Daddy Issues. His tent is shaped like his dad's head - despite Doug not being present at the event as far as we know - and even his house features statues of his dad.

Considering the nervous, over-the-top, aggressively money-chasing person Dale turned out to be, it's no surprise we can see a lot of Dale in Doug. While Vicky did a number on Dale's psyche, there's definitely some Doug influence in his behavior too.

Fun Fact: The Dimmadome gives off Roman Colosseum vibes, so it's fitting that one of the ancestors we saw in "Lost and Founder's Day" is an ancient Roman!

I would also be remiss not to look at the Dimmadome fortune, glance at the sheer number of businesses Doug is constantly opening... and question if there's some money laundering going on there. Seems kinda sus, ngl...

I'm just saying, Doug with a ton of "disposable income" (gold) because he ended up with a lot of it very quickly seems like a "great" way to get into gambling. Shout-out to the Dimmadomes and their obsessions that hint at addictive personalities. Actually, that makes Dev's game addiction so much darker and now I'm horrified. He could get into trouble so easily...

Also, in "Engine Blocked," Doug literally tries to pay Vicky with a bunch of [I assume fake] money with his face on it, so that's questionable...

One last interesting note is that the Dimmadrones (called such in "Stanky Danky" when chasing Cosmo, Wanda, and Hazel) are clearly based on the early model of Amazon delivery drones.

I think the obvious assumption is that Dale* built them for Dimmazon, but repurposed a few of them for Dev's caretaking (as opposed to them being built for Dev in the first place).

* It's possible the robots were built by a team, but knowing Dale programmed the statues in "Lost and Founder's Day" & Dale's seeming preference to do things himself rather than outsourcing, I'm going with the "Dale built them" theory.

This repurposing might be backed up by Dev referring to the ones that hang out with him as au pairs - a phrase meaning "caretaker" - and even claiming his au pairs are Au Pair #1 and Au Pair #2. While that might just be convenient shorthand since those are the two he interacts with, maybe those are a different type of Dimmadrone that was designed (or tweaked) specifically for Dev's care.

In a previous post, I discussed my headcanon of Dev having hypoglycemia and referenced the au pairs having the ability to "alert on him," or at least use both visuals and noise to signal him, as in this screenshot from "28 Puddings Later" showcasing a glowing exclamation point:

We also know Dev has specific food needs (Lactose intolerance), that he's very picky with his food (Even a treat like cupcakes that you would expect a 9-year-old to enjoy regardless), and that the au pairs are capable of food preparation (since Dev tells Hazel in "A New Dev-elopment" they can make sushi).

The au pairs are probably the most advanced, expensive, time-consuming models (compared to the ones that simply need to be mass produced for package pick-up and put-down).

I do like the thought that - for all his faults I didn't touch on here - Dale does care enough about Dev that he took the time to design two robots that could look after Dev in his absence... and specifically, took the time to think of what a child actually needs.

Dale probably thinks "I spent 7 years struggling... I would've loved the comfort of knowing my base needs like food were taken care of."

In my hypoglycemia post, I said the au pairs seem to know what hugs are and can recognize when Dev wants comfort. That implies Dale put a lot of thought into the design of the au pair and its ability to assess Dev's needs. Dale's not oblivious to what a child needs, like safety, appropriate food, and physical affection... He just lets the au pairs handle Dev.

Dale definitely gives the impression of someone who's making a genuine effort to parent, considering he missed out on healthy role models for at least 7 years of his life (Not to mention Doug is a wild character and probably fell short of being an excellent parent himself).

Along with designing the au pairs to look after him, Dale involves Dev in his projects, greets Dev, and answers his questions, and that's so interesting when you compare him with people like:

- Remy's parents (after the shipwreck in "Fairy Fairy Quite Contrary"'s closing scene) opting to count their surviving money and open a luxury hotel while still dressed in rags, forcing Remy to forage for his and their survival - Vicky and Tootie's parents opting to stay with perceived cannibals rather than disobey Vicky ("Timmy's 2D House of Horror"); they consistently let Vicky run the show and beg her forgiveness when they upset her. You could 100% make an argument that Vicky is Tootie's actual caregiver. - The "Fairy Idol" alt version of Bucky (Chester's dad) who lost his house and went off to party instead of securing food or shelter for his son. Also, Regular Bucky canonically feeds Chester animals he stole from the zoo or aquarium ("Who's Your Daddy?") and I think we should talk about that. - A.J.'s parents are fantastic in many ways, but there's something incredibly dark about the way they don't like A.J. going outside where there are germs ("Who's Your Daddy?"), they have a laser set up in front of their house to vaporize visitors ("The Big Scoop"), and A.J. seems to believe they dislike Chester (given his long silence after Chester asks why A.J.'s parents' security system got more aggressive after finding out he was Chester). - Later-season neglectful Timmy's parents (though I acknowledge I don't love that flanderized aspect of their character unless viewed from the 'got burned out after 50 extra years of parenting' lens, personally). - Clark and Connie who walked out on their daughter having an anxiety attack (and sent Chloe into a dissociative episode 3 times in the first episode they appeared). - A distracted adult Timmy ("Channel Chasers") leaving his kids with a robot Vicky babysitter despite the sight of weapons and his children begging.

Dale IS an antagonist and a neglectful parent. This post is not meant to take away from that or excuse it, but I think it's interesting that within the bounds of FOP characterization... He is pretty consistently in line with how parents in this show behave, and he does have many positives alongside his flaws. I totally understand why child protective services have not taken Dev from him.

Disclaimer: All characters are morally gray and this list is for amusing discussion purposes. I'm not calling these characters "bad parents" so much as highlighting interesting behaviors for consideration.

FOP's characterization leans into adults being foolish and neglectful - Dimmsdale is named after the idea that the adults are dim, after all - and I think it's worth evaluating all the FOP parents within that framework.