#scene reference of pretty blood

[mariasparkles]

@vivilingriphyn (TW blood & disturbing image)

Another fanart or comic, for that matter! C!Nadakhan is having so much fun tricking him and watching this drama between Jay and Nya. Nya locked Jay inside of the room to prevent from escaping while the other ninjas are tried calling the ambulance, just to take him with them or maybe get him some mental help, but Jay cutted or took down the electricity. Don't worry the ninjas their fine, probably.

[runtyonlinegirl]

DAY 4

- TWILITE FUNK

- UGLY NOSTALGIA

[hexhomos]

Jayce/Silco mirroring & other stuff Ive noticed

Starting with the big season 2 opener as pointed out by sage-nebula:

Zaun/Piltover figureheads rushing to save a loved one with their respective creations (Shimmer/Hextech); said creations leading to corruption and a loss of control. Silco frequently referred to as the Industrialist, leading Zaun into a new age, Jayce is posited as the Innovator, making Piltover more profitable than it's ever been. Misery following both choices.

Jayce's endgame look shares a lot of visual aspects with Silco's main coat, incl. the red gilded lapels and all those straps. His body is also being corrupted by hextech into unnatural scar tissue. Scars are more prominent in the wild rift model even if the colors are a bit off from the show itself (2nd pic)

(Text referring to Jayce's new legendary skin, dealing with arcane act3)

And if you remember, these two actually had a pretty big scene in season 1, which echoes the above sentiments and has Jayce pushing a negotiation for Zaun's independence - at this point in time, it's the closest we got to Silco's dream being realized before the big meltdown:

This feels like a really interesting scene now in the context of how he was asked to sacrifice jinx. And now jayce's entire world outlook is shaped by constant sacrifices to avoid impending doom.

There are a few more twisted parallels to this too; silco killing vander, jayce killing viktor in the name of preserving their ideals - vander being mutated by singed, again singed mixing viktor's blood with vanderwick in the act 3 teaser.

Previously I had compared the ep6 jayvik kill circumstances with vander's blinding rage leading him to try and drown silco in the river but I don't think the parallels are so clear anymore. It's looking like the further we go into the story, the more jayce/viktor change into a blur that mixes vander/silco's motivations together - viktor's weird, corrupted peacekeeper front inside the cult and how he connects to vander's memories admiring the man that he was in life. Jayce feeling in the flesh that the only way forward demands firsthand pain and power and sacrifice, not placidity.

Interested to see where act3 viktor goes. Vander working with enforcers = Viktor working with noxus I guess 😭😭 well I just hope they beat eachother 1v1 style. and I hope he ends up following through with his pledge for Zaun's independence

[tfatwsbarnes]

male bird courting | tlou jesse

summary: 3 times jesse embarrassed himself acting tough +1 time it worked

pairing: au beefcake!jesse x sunshine fem!oc — oc has no name, just referred to as ‘pretty girl’. more of jesse’s POV!

word count: 4.7k

warnings: mentions of violence, blood, death and sexual themes (no smut), romance, kissing and jesse being somewhat of a meathead. this is meant to be silly and cliche!

a/n: this will have inaccuracies of characters everywhere bc this is purely self indulgent. also the horde that happened on the show has been changed bc i said so. CALL IT AN AU IF YOU WILL. I have an oc locked IN but obvs imagine whomever as there’s minimal description! this idea came to me from the one scene of jesse in his slutty black t-shirt hammering away. mhm.

gif credit @pedgito

The first time was when Tommy Miller brought her to the stables whilst Jesse and Ellie were tossing hay bales for the stables.

"This is where our livestock are kept. The Jackson community — established and taken in by Maria and her father — helped build this from the ground up." His gravelled voice travelled far enough for Ellie Williams and her friend, Jesse, to halt their hauling of hay bales.

"Who is that?" Jesse asked as he watched the backs of Tommy and the new stranger tour around the stables, hands patting a few of the horses hoofing at the dried mud for some treats.

Ellie shrugged, "Haven't seen her before."

As the pair disappeared round the corner, Jesse caught a glimpse of her side profile, dimple so apparent as her eyes crinkled whilst speaking with the younger Miller brother. He didn't need an up close inspection to deduce that whoever Tommy was touring around the Commune; she was an outstanding level of beautiful.

Ellie swatted him to get back to her least favourable task, hoping Jesse would take the brunt of it so they could finish early and head back so she could stop by Dina's to smoke.

As they resumed, talking amongst themselves in between grunts of throwing the heavy stacks of hay, Tommy and the new resident rounded the stables and made a direct bee-line to where they were finishing up.

"Jesse, Ellie." Tommy called, "I want you to meet our new resident of Jackson." He gestured toward her, both of them halting their competitive hauling of the last of the bales. Tommy smiled, "I was jus' giving her a tour of the Commune before setting her up. This is Ellie Williams, she came here with my brother Joel, that you jus' met back there."

She nodded to confirmation before smiling and reaching a hand out to Ellie to shake as she announced her name. It took Ellie by surprise, nobody of their age really shook hands as a formal introduction. Also, most physical contact was limited since the Outbreak; people were suspicious of transmittable viruses.

"And this is, Jesse, uh—Jesse." Tommy internally cringed, not knowing the younger male's surname.

"Jesse Jesse, huh?" She teased as she went to shake Jesse's hand, "I won't forget that."

Jesse made quick work to rub off the majority of the clammy sweat on the palm of his hands, "Aha—" I won't forget you, he thought to himself, "—You just arrive here?"

"Just last night." She didn't go into further detail as she stepped back in line with Tommy Miller, her confidence shrouded by whatever history she had beyond the walls of the Jackson Commune.

Jesse nodded with a little more vigour than expected, flicking his hair from his eyes as he wanted to encourage her to speak more for his own self indulgence. Her voice was honey-coated, her tone dripping with an essence that enticed him in a Siren-like way. He was already stuck.

      As Tommy, Ellie and the new girl continued the conversation, Jesse blinked a couple of times as he stared so obviously at her. The Spring Sun beaming on her skin, although, he thought, the glow was radiating from within her. Her doe-eyes scrunching as Ellie made a crude joke, that dimple he had noticed in full effect making him almost whimper like a kicked dog.

        She spared him a glance with a friendly smile, and he felt himself turn to goo, a lopsided smile showing on his face.

        Get it together, Jesse.

        He straightened up, his chest puffing outward, arms crossing over his torso as he made an effort to pronounce his biceps. The cuffs of his black t-shirt straining against his muscles. Immediately, he rid of the grin on his face, tightening his jaw and pulling his brows into a sultry furrow. Eyes narrowed, although the sun was beating on his back — minor details, really.

        Suddenly, Jesse was attempting to make himself three times bigger than he was, nodding along to Ellie who spared a second glance at him; her brows furrowing for a separate reason to his.

"Well, hate to cut this short—" Tommy cut in as Ellie mouthed a 'What the fuck are you doing?' to Jesse. The Miller male clapped his hands together, "—I gotta show her where she will be stayin'."

        "It was nice meeting you both." She was genuine in her statement, both Ellie and Jesse catching the subtle lisp in her speech.

Jesse remained stoic and, well, large as he nodded, his lips pressed outward to give off a pout — it was then Tommy's turn to side-eye the guy.

"Likewise. If you like the horses, I can show you more of them. Maybe, even ride me—" The incidental sentence was out before his brain could compute to filter it. Eyes going wide, Jesse felt mortified as all sets of eyes stared at him, exasperated by what his sentence insinuated so soon after meeting the new resident. Knuckles going white as he dug his fingernails into the palm of his hands, Jesse huffed out a nervous laugh, "I meant, I meant ride them with me."

He had fumbled. He knew it.

It was only when a small, knowing smile crossed her face that Jesse let out a breath he had been holding. His broad shoulders deflating as the heat of embarrassment reached the top of his ears. He couldn't recall being this fucking sloppy with his game when he first met Dina. Even then, he had just met this girl, there was no immediate intention of scoring her in bed.

"Alrigh. . ." Brows furrowing for a moment, Tommy let a chuckle escape his lips as he watched Ellie press her lips into a thin line to prevent any laughter escaping. "Well, we'll be goin'. Thanks for y'all's help with livestock — Ellie, Joel was askin' for ya to swing by for some food later tonight." He tipped his head as a goodbye and guided the new girl away from the stables.

As they left, Ellie scoffed the request from Joel, soon ridding her thought of it as she turned to Jesse.

"What?" Jesse didn't want to know what. Actually, he wanted his question to be rhetorical.

"You were like a fucking male bird." Ellie stated making Jesse raise his brows. She dropped the string that held the hay bale together before hunching her shoulders, emphasising her arms as she mocked his pout, "Save a horse, ride me! All you needed was a couple of bright feathers sticking out of your ass." She laughed.

Jesse stared at her blankly as she mocked him further.

"Shut up and get the last of this bale on the trailer, so I can go get a drink." He picked up the penultimate bale with ease, cursing himself for how he acted as he watched her frame becoming smaller in the distance side by side with Tommy Miller.

Ellie, in fact, did not shut up that night.

The second time was a handful of weeks into Spring later. He had been watching Ellie spar with another Patrol member in the barn, offering her insight in how to retaliate in an appropriate manner towards her sparring mate. Back leant against a wooden pillar, and arms crossed as his eyes watched for any faults as they resumed their sparring, the door to the barn slid open; earning a turn of his head in interest.

He would've chastised whoever it was, if it weren't the leader of their Community and the whole reason they could spar so openly and loudly without the infected blitzing through.

Maria Miller watched as Ellie and the male continued their fight, Ellie happily pinning her component down with his arm twisted behind his back. Next to her stood the whole reason why Dina and Ellie nicknamed Jesse "Captain Male Bird" for a week after his incident upon meeting the pretty girl.

Immediately, Jesse pushed himself off of the pillar and walked toward them with a big grin on his features. He had seen her in passing a couple of times after their first introduction, most of the time he had been solely focussed on leading Patrol as she passed in the street with a wheelbarrow, or a horse on rope.

"Hey, Maria." Jesse spoke, acknowledging pretty girl also. He could feel it coming before he could prevent it from happening. As Maria greeted him, he crossed his arms across his chest, hands beneath his biceps to push the meat of his muscles out. Chin slightly tucked as he clenched his jaw, his eyes darting to the female who was staring past him at the pair fighting.

OK, he almost felt offended. But, then she looked back to him and offered another one of her smiles — dimple present — and he forgave her. No questions asked.

"Ellie is coming along in her sparring." Maria complimented, "Jesse, you'll now have this one in Patrol starting two weeks from today. She will be under your watch so I need you to put things in place for her to be prepared for Patrol in fourteen days."

Jesse didn't miss a beat, "Of course." He looked in her god damn pretty eyes, his tongue going fat, "You'll be under me—I mean, under my watch. I'll look after her, Maria."

The heat of embarrassment scorched in the tips of his ears, but neither women paid mind to his minor slip up as Maria bid farewell; leaving them to stand together. Partially alone for the first time.

Think of something. Anything! Jesse clambered at ideas to talk about, being mindful not to present a topic where he would trip over his tongue the minute she looked him directly in the eyes and entranced him with her tone. Speak about the fucking wheelbarrow, how good she looked wheeling it away — no. Scratch that.

"Is this part of training?" She asked before Jesse could finalise a topic to talk about with her.

Thankful, Jesse hummed, "Yeah. Sort of. A slim chance, but if you come toe-to-toe with a Raider, it's best to have some quality fighting skills under your belt. We try not to play dirty together, but it doesn't matter out on the field."

"A raider is a raider, right?"

"Right." Jesse affirmed, "You won't have to worry about all that though."

She looked up at him, "How so?"

"Well—You'll be with me."

"Oh, they go running when they see you?" She teased and Jesse let a smile slip past his brooding facade. She hummed, rolling onto the heels of her feet, "Can I try?"

"Ellie and Karl are done." Jesse watched the pair shake hands, wiping their noses of blood, Ellie quick to throw a wave to the girl standing next to him.

As Ellie approached, pretty girl quipped, "I could spar with you?"

Jesse and Ellie shared a laugh and the girl questioned their humour. She was smaller in frame compared to Jesse, in height and weight. Presumably, he had years of experience on her head even when they were similar in age. It would be out of the question, a record breaking fight that lasted a second.

There was a shine of disappointment in her face and, well, Jesse didn't like that he caused the wrinkle between her brows.

"OK. One round." Ellie gawped at Jesse as he casually put his hands on the pretty girl's shoulders, guiding her to the middle of the barn. He craned his neck to look back at Ellie, who began shamelessly flapping around like a bird. His middle finger went up.

Pretty girl turned around as they reached the middle of the barn, her eyes shifting to the horses pulling at the Play & Hay ball she had tied up for them in their pens that morning. Jesse watched as her face filled with glee, excited they were playing with them after she begged a few of the farmers to let her use them.

How could he possibly fight her?

Regardless, this was a chance to impress her. Gently. He didn't want to break any bones in her body, but he wanted to reaffirm that he could protect her against Raiders with his fighting skills.

"OK." He started, feet parting as he took his stance, "We'll take it slow, I'll go easy for you. Assess my movements and counteract them, if you can."

"Got it." She straightened up, her arms swinging back and forth to warm herself up for their spar. Ellie gave her a thumbs up from behind Jesse and she gave a playful wink.

Jesse wasn't jealous of that. No. But, he wouldn't let it slide as he took the opportunity of her distraction to advance toward her, he wouldn't be aggressive but he would prove a point that distraction could result in fatality on Patrol. No matter if he found her attractive or not.

As his stronger arm came out to grab her, Jesse's vision of the barn went from upright, to upside down, to finally staring up at the wooden slacks of the roof as the wind got knocked out of him; the dust between the hay unsettled and puffed into the air from the sheer force of his body landing in it.

He let out an 'oof' on impact, attempting to lift his head, before he saw a fist strike down like thunder. The sheer force knocking his head back into the concrete beneath the hay and his vision knocked black as he laid unconscious.

When he woke, he could hear the commotion around him, his eyes still bleary as he groaned out.

"Oh my god!" Her voice filtered through and Jesse furrowed his brows, hands coming to his chest, "Oh my god—I'm so sorry, I—I just got a fright, oh my god, Ellie, what do I do?"

Ellie's laughter came in thick, "That was fucking amazing!"

Jesse scrunched his eyes shut, before blinking a few times to get his vision back, two figures knelt above him. He went to sit up, only to feel the severe ache throb at the back of his head, stars shining vividly in his vision allowing him to gently be pushed back down. His head cushioned by a jacket.

"Jesse, I am so sorry." She whined, "Just lay there for a minute. You might have a concussion."

"Go slow and easy, he said." Ellie threw her head back, clutching her stomach as she found hilarity in the situation. She huffed a few breaths as pretty girl tended to the gash on the bridge of Jesse's nose.

Recollection from his short-term memory began, "What the fuck."

"Where did that even come from?" Ellie questioned, sitting on her backside, watching Jesse slowly come to his senses.

"Well. . . Before the outbreak, my dad had me going to self-defence classes the minute I could walk and talk, really." She mumbled an apology as Jesse hissed from the ache in his nose, she looked to Ellie, "I guess, reflexes never really go away."

"Reflexes? You threw a man twice your size over your shoulder! You have got to show me some moves." Ellie pleaded, her cheeks flushed with giddiness.

"Of course. . . Are you OK, Jesse?"

From the floor, Jesse tried to keep a cool composure, finally zoning back into the situation. The concoction of the dull throb from his brain being rattled against his skull and the pure mortification of being knocked unconscious so suddenly after claiming subtle bragging rights to being the winner of the spar even prior to beginning made Jesse link his fingers together, resting on his stomach as he silently processed his defeat.

He pulled an expression of coolness, pretending to shrug off his ego being bruised.

"I'm good." He shrugged.

"I am so sorry, again." Her fingers carefully brushed his hair from his forehead, a playful smile reaching her lips, "I'll go slow and easy next time."

"Help me up."

The third time was almost a sign for Jesse that pretty girl was a bad omen to his usual calm and collected cool nature.

The fourteen day window of training and education on their Patrol logistics had come to an end and Maria was satisfied enough with pretty girl's knowledge and understanding in depth for her to branch out on a Patrol day. She had gone with Jesse to see Maria, fist pumping as she walked out of her office, her hands shaking Jesse's bicep from glee at her green light to patrol.

There was a naivety to her excitement. He could count on one hand how many people were eager to go on patrol missions. Ellie and Joel, and him. The people tending to the other aspects of the Jackson Commune, tended not to stray far from the confides of their sector, understandably warranted, of course.

        Albeit nervous as he felt a great responsibility to keep her safe, Jesse fed into her excitement, praising her for her hard effort; also offering gratitude for lending a helping hand with the sparring.

        Their encounter kept between him, her and Ellie. And, Dina. Not that he knew about that.

        "You’ll attend the brief with the other patrollers before heading out tomorrow." He advised to her.

        "OK. Wow—This is kind of exciting, right?"

        "If you like this kind of stuff, yeah." Jesse shrugged, "You're not nervous?"

        She nodded, "Yeah. Last time I came face to face with an infected, I almost died." She shivered at the memory, "And, I've met some Raiders. They gave me a nasty scar, the width of my shoulder to my belly button. It's pretty ugly."

        "I don't think there could be a correct sentence where you and ugly related." Jesse spoke confidently, without fumbling over his words. They had, had enough time together for Jesse to relatively overcome his bad case of 'fat tongue' around her.

        Especially after the barn incident, pretty girl had whipped up a cake with icing that wrote 'Haven't had any complaints yet.' referring to her running joke asking about how his head was after it being smacked so viciously against concrete. They had shared the cake together, their conversation flowing effortlessly meaning Jesse could feel himself falling harder for her.

        They had spent a good amount of time together over the fourteen days, so, Jesse felt more at ease and less male bird courting female bird poorly.

Pretty girl blinked at his compliment, "Thanks, Jesse." He smiled down at her, finally feeling a win was on his side as he held the door open for her to the Tipsy Bison for a celebratory drink.

        The bar was relatively busy, it was a Friday night and most of the Commune had fulfilled their duties to the community, leaving them some wiggle room of two rest days. Thus meaning, their bellies would be full of whatever alcoholic beverage of their fancy to wash away any wandering thoughts back to times they prayed to forget.

        It was pretty girl's first time there. She wasn't particularly a heavy drinker, but she had her fair share of hangovers throughout the years. There was no initial plan to get that drunk, seeing as her first ever patrol was the next day and, although she was aware of Jesse's state of the obvious soft spot for her, she didn't take advantage of the fact that he would easily take that 'Patrol Privilege' away.

        A few heads turned upon their entry, mostof them turning back to their conversations, aside from Ellie and Dina who were waving at the pair from a corner far into the room. Hadn't it been for their relatively vigorous hand waving, Jesse and pretty girl may have not seen them for how dimly the scene was lit.

        As she averted her gaze elsewhere, Jesse watched on as both Ellie and Dina frantically pointed at his hair, incoherent with their mouthing. Nevertheless, Jesse's confidence fell short as he snatched a spoon from the table adjacent to him, inspecting his appearance through the convex mirror. Nothing out of the ordinary, Jesse shared his expression of lack of patience with the two — now snickering — girls.

        "Find us a seat. I'll grab the first round." He meant all the rounds that she would like, not that she needed to know that. He caught her feet turning in the direction of Ellie and Dina and he was quick to guide her in the opposite direction with one palm to her waist, "Preferably away from those two."

        Heading to the bar, Jesse slipped between two older men finding their sorrows at the bottom their whiskies, waving down the bartender, Seth, to order drinks. Elbow leant, regrettably, against the sticky surface, Jesse turned his attention to where pretty girl had chosen their seats.

        She sat, a polite smile on her face as a man towered above her. Whatever the conversation was, her body language was reading anything but comfortable.

        Immediately abandoning his position at the bar, Jesse bee-lined for her, his chest puffing and jaw clenched for the opposite reason in which he's used to doing so. His large palm came into contact with the other male's arm, firmly turning him on the spot away from pretty girl, and in the direct pathway of Jesse.

        "Hey, buddy. My girlfriend isn't interested." He deepened his voice an octave and pretty girl's eyes went wide, her hand pressing against her forehead as Jesse mean-mugged the stranger.

        "Girlfriend? You didn't tell me you were dating?"

        ". . . Jesse—This is my brother."

+1

        The horde came in with little warning. Fingers splintered as they desperately clawed themselves entry into the Commune, jaws snapping at the hunger for flesh. Bullets ricocheted off the surroundings, some hitting a few stragglers but not enough to keep them at bay as they broke through the barrier that separated the living from the dead. 

        Eager to protect and maintain the quality of their Commune, all hands were on deck, aside from the obvious candidates that didn't fit the role of protectors of Jackson. Guns in hands, the walls and streets were manned as the residents shot from all angles to prevent the horse from advancing within their home.

        It was no easy feat, as all kinds of infected clambered in, taking down people whose guns didn't protect them enough against the onslaught occurring. In amongst the chaos, Jesse was shooting down what he could, his knife unsheathed as he took on some Clickers that were feasting upon defenceless residents that had been knocked over.

        Kicking the deceased Clicker down, making a point to put a bullet through its head as it hit the concrete beneath it, Jesse assessed the situation around him; his breath wavering as he watched the people he had grown close to be mowed down. 

        Their training had prepared them for this. It had been expressed as a rarity, if not, completely out of the question that an infected horde would breach their safe haven in Wyoming and they'd be left to fight for all their livelihoods that was meticulously built for years and years. Regardless of their preparation, the ultimate shock of these creatures making an appearance was a hard pill to swallow. Even for the likes of Jesse.

        Gun lifted, Jesse popped a few Runners, grunting as he reloaded, his ears ringing with the cacophony of wails of the dying members of their community. He could feel the bile scorch in his throat, stepping over dead bodies to get a cleaner shot at the infected.

        Exhaling through his nose, he shot down another Runner, his aim faltering as he spotted pretty girl amongst the moving bodies, the butt of her gun being brought down on an already confirmed dead infected. Her face sprayed with human blood, eyes widened with fear as she stumbled away from the corpses.

        He took a step forward, calling her name out making her snap her head towards where she heard the faint call. Lips parted and chest heaving, she waved casually at him as if they were crossing paths on an ordinary day in the Commune. For a moment, he chuckled at her gesture, waving back before locking back in — bullets flying through the air as he made his way across the street to her.

        Continuously delayed getting to her, the fight continued for longer than anticipated. It seemed there was an endless amount of infected bustling through the broken gates, a Bloater spotted feet above the rest. This had sent a few people reeling, the shooters from above doing their best to take it down to no avail.

        Tommy Miller took that task on the moment he saw the Bloater heading his wife's way.

        Bloater distracted, Jesse lost sight of her, his head snapping in all directions, anticipating the worst. There was a moment of turmoil, before he spotted her further away, helping the injured but not bitten people up by the arms whilst she shot in the opposite direction.

        Amidst the carnage of the bloodbath, pretty girl looked angelic to Jesse, although slick with mud and blood, her gritted teeth bared as she released an unquenchable anger on the infected close by. If they made it out of it alive, Jesse ought to ask her on a proper date. What else has he got to lose?

        Her back turned for a moment, kneeling to help a woman up, and Jesse watched in real time as a Clicker advanced to her defenceless body, her name leaving his mouth in sheer panic before he broke out into a sprint; feet pounding against the ground to get to her.

        The Clicker had managed to catch her off guard when she turned, a scream escaping her throat as it slammed her into the ground, its fungal blossomed head inches away from hers as she fought hard against it.

        She closed her eyes shut tight, a cry replacing the scream as her arms became tired from holding the heavy body away from her. Nobody particularly wanted to die when the time wasn't right, but the odds didn't look to favour her as she grew weaker.

        As her hands slipped, she braced for impact of the infected sinking into the meat of her neck, her breath caught at the back of her throat as she watched Jesse throw the Clicker off of her body, his face thunderous as he took his steel-toe capped boot and brought it down on the Clicker's head. The sheer force of the stomp killed the Clicker, but he didn't stop.

        Boot squelching in the residue of the innards of the Clicker, Jesse cocked his gun and put a bullet through its chest for good measure. He was seething, the muscles in his arms flexing as he continued his battery on the singular — what once was — threat.

        The heels of her hands pressed into the ground to hold her weight, pretty girl watched Jesse with her mouth agape. Her eyes trailing over his body, he could've been a sculpture carved out of marble. She blinked a couple of times, brought back to the present as Jesse turned to her, broad chest heaving as he offered a hand out to help her up.

           As he helped her up, he rattled out, "I thought I told you to watch your back during our training."

        "You told me not to worry." She stammered over her breathlessness, "Because I had you."

        Jesse mulled it over and shook his head, "I did not mean—"

        "—Will you shut up and give me a kiss."

        Jesse didn't even hesitate. Feverishly, he pulled her in by her hand, throwing it over his shoulder as his hands pressed firmly across her back. Lips pressed against each other as their chests met, Jesse smirked into her lips, the idea of her feeling his toned muscles beneath his clothes. Despite his warranted cockiness, if pretty girl concentrated hard enough, she’d be able to feel the immense pounding of his heart. The endless amounts of showing himself off in front of her, resulted in a desperate anticipation to see if she felt an ounce of the same as he did. Even if she didn’t have half of the feelings, Jesse had enough to spare for the both of them.

Her delicate hands slipped from behind his head and onto his pecs, Jesse flexing them as the palms of her bloodied hands pressed against the fabric of his shirt. He was in such a state of euphoria, he couldn’t hear Maria Miller shouting harshly at them from the tops of the walls — pretty girl neither.

She pulled away slightly, their lips still brushed against each other, “I felt like a female bird being courted just now.”

“Shut the fuck up.” He pressed another kiss to her lips as she laughed.

Jesse was going to kill Ellie Williams.

[getthembees]

Cassandra Cain I Am The Dog Animatic

happy birthday to my beloved blorbo... this is late to cass cain week because as you can see it is a behemoth and i spent 2 weeks on it. first time making smth like this but phew the things i would do for cass. Song is I Am the Dog by Sir Chloe

if you wanna read me yapping about every choice i made for these frames it is under the cut!!

I'm not going to be pulling each frame for this because that would be so much so Ill go by lyric :]

head underwater / hand in a fist

I start with cass post shiva fight after she wins and then immediately go all the way back in time to the act of violence that put cass on her suicide mission in the first place

hard to describe something ill never miss

baby cass is holding that mans throat in her hands, the most prominent mark on her chest is his blood / adult cass is holding her mask in her hand, and the most prominent mark on her chest is the bat symbol

i am the dog under your couch

this wolf is a reference to the mark of cain symbol which im...pretty sure is a wolf? its really shittily drawn and not a lot of references but whatever. she is being partially covered by the mark of her father.

gnashing teeth and open mouth

remember that time where cass conquered a pack of dogs (or wolves?) and then ate a cow raw. this is that

shouldn't have clawed my own way out

this is pretty self explanatory

loving you's my only house

OK! that one scene where we see cass's birth and it says the first sound she heard was her mother and the second was a gun shot? that made me terminally insane. this is that.

then we go through a fast montage of cass's important parental people in her life in order david/babs/bruce/shiva. we end with the scene we opened with in the beginning, zoomed out, and cass seems happier. yay!

[starlinggirll]

husband!art and the twins turning overprotective over reader . . . ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

you were never alone. if it wasnt art melting ontop of you it was the twins fighting for a place in your lap. they loved you, the 3 of them the same.

they often fought for your attention, you teasing art later on about giving in to the twins childish behavior, which he usually responds with a kiss on your cheek.

today was different tho. the 3 of you went on a the twins soccer game, you cheering from the bleachers. art knows he's a lucky man, but he doesn't need everyone to know how your boobs look like—but from the looks of your sundress? you are basically showing off everything!

well not really. he knows he's exaggerating but he cant help buy clench his fists at the sight of one the dads staring at you. the game is over, and you drag him over to the twins. "you guys did so good! my boyss!" you squeal, kissing their sweaty foreheads, which they respond with tiny giggles.

he stands behind you, making sure no more of your thighs are getting exposed. his hands gently cup your hips, smiling slightly at the sight. "mama did you see the goal i made!" mattew squeals, nuzzling his cheek into your chest.

"c'mon, lets go home." art says, patting your hip. he isnt looking you tho, he's glaring at the same guy who is gross enough to keep ogling at you. his cheek rests against your shoulder as you help the boys carry their backpacks. "how about ice cream?" he inquires, kissing you softly while the boys celebrate.

he stops tho. hearing a whistle coming from behind. almost like a cat call, definitely not an innocent whistle. the type a whistle only an asshole would do when they see a pretty lady walk past them. and right now the asshole is one of the parents, and you're the pretty lady. he turns around, glaring at the man.

"whats your fuckin' problem, huh?" he grits out, letting you go and invading the man's personal space. the man doesn't back down, if anything he's shoves art away. both are muscular, with art being a tinge taller than the man. "baby stop-" but before you know it, art is throwing a punch, and you and your sons gasp.

art is ontop of the man, and though the scene infront if you is hot—how protective and manly he is. it is still unsettling. "art stop it now!" you groan, grabbing onto his bicep. he lets you pull him away, wiping a bit of blood off his lip as he wraps his arms around your waist, hiding his face into your neck. the boys, which were watching the whole thing, start cheering.

"dad you totally won!" matthew squeals, sticking his tongue out at the man before you pinch his cheek softly.

and before you get the chance to chastise him samuel kicks a rock towards the guy. you groan. "boys!" and you are definitely referring to art too. "settle down, and lets go home." the 3 of them nod, art burying his face back into your neck, hands going to your ass. "yes mommy," he teases against your neck, sending daggers at the guy that's still on the floor.

the 'mommy' word gets received with a smack on the head from you, which he laughs it off.

im currently SUPER sick so this is so bad im sorry!!

[dissociativewriter]

Headcanons about making the guys watch the Disney movie we associate with them?

Z = Frozen; X & S = Sleeping Beauty; R = The Little Mermaid; C = Snow White

this is so cute omg. i rewatched all of these when writing this (for research!) and it was very nice. this is very fluffy, i needed to write some lol I've been writing some very mean angst lately.

spoilers ahead and some references to their myths!

❀ It was your turn to pick the movie for you and Xavier's regular Saturday movie night. When you picked Sleeping Beauty, he furrowed his brow. "A Disney movie?" "I think it will be fun!"

❀ Xavier was silent through most of it, content to simply enjoy the movie with you. He would interrupt to offer you popcorn or to refill your drink. "She's a little scary," he whispered when Maleficent appeared.

❀ You caught him dozing off a few times, but Xavier always jolted awake when you nudged him. "I'm up!" "Were you falling asleep again?" "I was just resting my eyes." He did actually fall asleep when the kingdom was put to sleep alongside Aurora.

❀ As the credits rolled, you told him, "This movie reminds me of you." "...because I remind you of the prince, right?" His ears turned a faint pink when you explained you connected him more to Aurora. "So… I'm a princess in your eyes?" "A very pretty princess!"

❀ When you tell Zayne you want to watch Frozen with him, he’s… hesitant, to say the least. “Isn’t that a children’s movie?” He still watches it with you, though, no complaints.

❀ “I understand they’re worried she might harm someone, but locking her away isn’t good for her development,” he says matter-of-factly. He’s very respectful during the movie, though, not saying much. That is, until Hans’ betrayal. “That’s just not right,” he mutters. “What a scoundrel.”

❀ When you tell Zayne he reminds you of Elsa, he just stares at you blankly. After a moment, he quietly responds, “I hope you don’t plan on getting me gloves.” When the movie ends, he gives you a chaste kiss on the check. “If I truly am Elsa, then you’ve thawed this frozen heart.”

❀ For a few days after you watched the movie, Zayne finds himself quietly humming Let It Go. Occasionally Love is an Open Door. He’s alright with that one. He’s extremely annoyed with himself when it’s Let It Go.

❀ Rafayel will gladly watch any movie with you, but best believe he’s judging The Little Mermaid. Heavily. "Giving up your voice is sooooo unromantic," he groaned. "At least give your lover your heart." "What, like you just rip it out of your chest and offer it to your lover?" You laughed. Rafayel didn't.

❀ "Yes," he said very seriously. "Let my blood spill down your wrist as you feel how my heart beats only for you. Let my blood stain your lips the perfect shade of red so that every time you see your reflection, you cannot escape my endless devotion to you."

❀ You try to scoot away from Rafayel after that but he keeps you pulled close against him. He cries during the wedding scene but vehemently denies it afterward. "I'm just really happy they could finally be together! They're from two different worlds!"

❀ Rafayel sings the entirety of the sound track for at least a week. It’s pretty at first but after the tenth time (that day) of hearing, “What do they got, a lot of sand? We got a HOT crustacean band!” you’re throwing tomatoes.

❀ Sylus is always willing to do whatever you want, so when you asked him to watch Sleeping Beauty with you, he didn't object. He just settled you in his home theater with fluffy blankets, snacks, and an arm around your shoulders.

❀ When Maleficent comes on screen, he's already making commentary. "Cursing a baby to die because you didn't get invited to a party seems a bit excessive. And these gifts the fairies have given aren't useful at all."

❀ He’s judging you heavily when you start implying he's similar to Maleficent. "Doesn't her bird remind you of Mephisto?" "So I remind you of a villain?" "..but a really pretty one. I think you'd look very handsome with horns." "Hm."

❀ Sylus looks extremely unimpressed by the time Maleficent turns into a dragon. "...interesting design," he mutters. "See, there's another thing! You remind me of a dragon." Sylus met your wide smile with a raised eyebrow. "Really, sweetie?" "Sure! You're really warm, protective, you hoard things..." Sylus chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "You have an overactive imagination."

❀ When you tell Caleb you want to watch Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, he's immediately agreeing. "Whatever you want, pips," he says. "But... didn’t this used to scare you when we were kids?"

❀ It’s not like this is his first time watching it. Caleb's watched a lot of princess movies with you since you grew up together. But, that doesn't stop him from making commentary. "I can't believe she just moves into some random men's home without asking. Promise me you'll never do that, pip-squeak."

❀ Caleb's confused when you tell him he reminds you of Snow White. "I remind you of that little princess?" he asked incredulously. "Sure," you shrugged. "You're a mother hen like she is. You cook, you clean, you're easily tempted by apples." "I'm not making you apple pie anymore," he pouts (he’s lying).

❀ When the poisoned apple comes around, he's desperately defending himself. "I cannot seriously remind you of her. I would not fall for that." You shrugged again. "I just call 'em as I see 'em." He's quiet for a few minutes. "Maybe the sleeping death is a good idea, " he says. "Then you'd be all mine." You stare at him. "Remind me to never eat any apple you give me."

I saw this art on Pinterest and thought it was so damn cute 😭 it wasn’t credited though so if you know whose it is please let me know so I can credit it!

comments and reblogs appreciated and asks open! <3

masterlist

@dolledbunnytail @sleepykittyenergy @orbitraiden @coffeedragonhobbyist @plzdonutpercieveme @sylusgworl

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Realistic Injuries

References (Minor Injuries; Head Injuries; Broken Bones; Dislocated Joints; Cutting & Piercing; Blood Loss; Blunt Trauma; Burns)

WHAT'S "NORMAL"

For a normal, reasonably healthy adult the following reading are ‘normal’. Some variation is usual and what’s normal for one person may be abnormal for another.

Pulse Rate

Between 60-100 beats per minute

A fitter person will have a rate towards the slower end of the margin and a child or young person will have a naturally high rate.

Any drastic increase or decrease in pulse rate is cause for concern.

Blood Pressure

120-140 over 70-90

Can vary with the time of day, amount of stress and a number of other factors.

High blood pressure is not usually immediately dangerous but can cause long term damage.

Low blood pressure can cause faintness, dizziness and blackouts and is usually a sign that there is an underlying problem to be treated.

Body Temperature

36°C (98.6°F) to 37.5°C (99.5°F)

Relatively minor variations in temperature are cause for concern.

MINOR INJURIES

Bumps, bruises, cuts and grazes

All inconvenient.

But not incapacitating.

A blow to a bony part of a limb or to a joint

Hurts a lot at the time of impact (as anyone who’s banged their shin will agree) and may swell and stiffen.

The impact may also have the effect of temporarily disrupting the ‘power supply’ to the limb meaning the person getting hit is likely to lose their grip on anything they’re carrying and be unable to move the joint for a few minutes.

Bruises

Can take anything from a few seconds to over a day to appear and anything from a day to several weeks to fade away again.

Soft fleshy areas bruise much more colourfully.

Sprains and torn muscles/tendons etc.

Will stiffen, swell and become more painful after a few hours.

A bad sprain can be every bit as incapacitating as a broken bone.

HEAD INJURIES

Probably the most common injury in fiction.

From “let’s bash the bad guy over the head to stop him running after us” to those scenes where everyone gets thrown all over the flight deck by the first bit of turbulence and bounce their heads off consoles.

Minor Head injuries

The human skull is pretty robust and designed to take a fair amount of punishment. Consequently the occasional bump won’t do all that much damage.

A minor bump on the head may leave a character feeling dazed and suffering from a headache, blurred vision and ringing ears but will clear within a few minutes.

Facial bruising - quite uncommon, it takes quite a hard blow or a blow that impacts with the soft tissue around the eyes to leave a mark.

Minor cuts and lacerations on the scalp and face will hurt and bleed out of all proportion to their seriousness. [NOTE: A ‘laceration’ does not mean ‘a very bad cut’ – it is a term for a specific type of wound caused by the tearing rather than the slicing of the skin. It’s the sort of cut you get from being hit with a blunt object (or a fist).]

Medium Head Injuries

A more forceful blow (equivalent to a fall of several feet) can lead to complications of the injury.

Concussion (damage to the brain tissue) is quite common after a hard blow to the head and is often accompanied by temporary unconsciousness. (And it should be very temporary if you don’t want your character to be permanently damaged). This can also result in dizziness, nausea and, not surprisingly, a nasty headache.

Medium cuts and lacerations will be painful and messy but not dangerous. There may be scarring.

Severe Head Injuries

A blow to the head resulting in prolonged unconsciousness will almost certainly result in brain damage, possibly a fractured skull and bruising or bleeding within the brain itself. It can be fatal either straight away if the damage is extensive enough or later as the blood from the injury causes pressure to be put on the brain.

Severe cuts - can damage muscle and sinew and do permanent damage. The pain from such injuries would have most characters unable to concentrate on much else.

Concussion Symptoms

Confusion, disorientation, memory loss,

Dizziness, headache (lingering after the first few hours)

Nausea, vomiting,

Pupils uneven in size and/or reaction,

Sluggish reactions, sleepiness.

Any painkillers given to treat the headache must be non-narcotic and relatively mild. Otherwise it is difficult to tell if sleepiness is caused by a worsening of the injury or by the painkillers.

Someone suffering from a suspected head injury should be watched for at least 24 hours, and woken every few hours if they’re asleep, to check for the above symptoms.

BROKEN BONES

In general they hurt. A lot. Any character with a broken bone (with the possible exception of the ribs) is going to know about it and not be very happy. It is possible that if there is no displacement they might not hurt much at all, and it may not be immediately obvious that the bone is actually broken.

The initial shock and pain is often enough to cause unconsciousness. Keeping the limb immobile will minimise the pain but any pressure or movement is going to be extremely unpleasant.

Severe breaks (compound fractures) can cause part of the bone to protrude through the skin, this will also cause blood loss, which can be severe enough to be dangerous. Nerves and blood vessels can also be permanently damaged.

Smaller bones are obviously more likely to break than larger ones but they hurt every bit as much.

Distinguishing between breaks/sprains is not always easy with just 'it hurts to go on but as a guide… Lots of pain but some movement is a relatively good thing -- it indicates 'just' a tear. Less pain but very limited movement is a worry, because it can mean you've snapped something, and the joint becomes useless without surgery.

Broken Ribs

All sorts of nasty complications can arise here. For a start, though a character who has just broken a rib will feel winded and uncomfortable, the initial discomfort will pass quickly and they may feel fine for some hours afterwards. Possibly they may not even realise that they had broken anything.

After a few hours it will start to hurt badly and breathing may be impaired and painful. Problems can occur when the injured person is breathing only shallowly because of the pain and not expanding their lungs fully, lungs can collapse as a result, causing pneumonia. Interesting in a morbid kind of way is that the breathing difficulties of a collapsed lung aren't what gets you - it's the air pressure that builds up in the chest cutting of the blood flow to the heart.

Broken ribs can also puncture a lung or even the heart with fatal results. A punctured lung would result in death within 3-15 minutes if untreated.

DISLOCATED JOINTS

Hurt just as much as broken bones.

Can be forced back into place without medical facilities but it’s not recommended and will hurt a lot, probably enough to cause unconsciousness. On-the-hoof treatment is the same as for broken bones – imobilise and support the limb.

There are a few dislocations which can be life-threatening -- the sterno-clavicular joint (where the collarbone joins the breastbone) is one. It requires a lot of force to pop it (most people's collarbones will break before the joint goes), and the collarbone usually goes outwards, but if it displaces inwards, it can compress the airways. This joint can dislocate if you get slammed very hard into something like a wall and take the impact on the point of the shoulder. I can also say it hurts very badly and for a very long time.

CUTTING & PIERCING

most human beings come equipped with a healthy set of defensive reflexes to avoid it. If at all possible they will try to put something else (like hands) in the way of the blow. Most people injured in a stabbing have injuries on their hands and arms as well from trying to ward off their assailant.

The severity of the injury depends a great deal on its location:

Limbs

The arms and legs are not protected by much flesh so even a shallow cut or piercing injury here may damage bone and muscle and render the limb effectively useless.

Severe blood loss can occur if the major blood vessels in the inside of the upper arm and inner thigh are damaged.

Abdomen

Piercing injuries will bleed a lot and can easily do fatal damage, although unless a main artery is hit then it’s not going to be a quick death. A piercing more than 2 inches deep starts to get dangerous.

If the main descending aorta is hit, the character has seconds to live.

The femoral or renal arteries will lose a fatal amount of blood in 2 – 3 minutes.

Injury to internal organs would cause bleeding, infections and a nasty slow death if left untreated. Bleeding from the spleen or liver would cause death within 20 minutes. Less major damage to internal organs would cause death either from blood loss over several hours or up to several days later from infection and other complications.

Relatively slight cuts to the stomach area would affect breathing and damage muscles, More major cuts to this area can damage nerves and muscles, meaning the injured character would have no control over their legs. Not nice, when you’re trying to get away from the nutter who’s just sliced you up and suddenly your legs don’t work…

Extensive cuts here can also mean the insides are suddenly outside. Not pretty, not comfortable and, untreated, leaves the character with about 15 minutes to live and they’re going to wish it was much less. Quite apart from the pain (which is pretty horrific) the sight of their own insides tends to make most people quite hysterical.

BLOOD LOSS

Major blood loss will result in a fast weak pulse and accelerated respiratory rate.

For an average healthy person about a litre of blood lost is enough for shock to set in.

Loss of approximately a litre and a half to two litres or more will require transfusion.

Loss of more than 2 and a half litres will probably result in unconsciousness and, if transfusion is not given, death.

Symptoms of Blood Loss

Blood loss in litres < 0.75 || 0.750-1.5 || 1.5-2.0 || > 2.0

Percentage of blood lost < 15% || 15-30% || 30-40% || > 40%

Blood pressure Normal || Normal || Reduced || Low

Pulse rate (beats per minute) < 100 || > 100 || > 120 || > 140

Pulse pressure Normal || Decreased || Decreased || Decreased

Respiratory rate (breaths/min) 14-20 || 20-30 || 30-40 || > 35

Mental state Alert || Anxious || Confused || Lethargic

State of extremities Normal || Pale || Pale/Cool || Pale/Clammy

Amount of blood loss by injury

Severe blood loss, as a wound larger than a fist or that caused by a compound fracture. All figures are approximate and somewhat variable. They are meant as a rough guide only.

SITE OF INJURY || NORMAL BLOOD LOSS (Litres / %) || SEVERE || MAXIMUM

Shoulder: 0.85 / 17% || 1.25 / 25% || 2.1 / 42%

Arm: 0.4 / 8% || 0.85 / 17% || 1.25 / 25%

Elbow: 0.4 / 8% || 0.85 / 17% || 1.65 / 33%

Forearm: 0.4 / 8% || 0.85 / 17% || 1.25 / 25%

Wrist: 0.2 / 4% || 0.6 / 12% || 0.85 / 17%

Chest: 1.25 / 25% || 1.65 / 33% || 5.0 / 100%

Spleen/Liver: 1.25 / 25% || 1.65 / 33% || 5.0 / 100%

Pelvis: 1.25 / 25% || 1.65 / 33% || 5.0 / 100%

Thigh: 1.25 / 25% || 1.65 / 33% || 2.9 / 58%

Leg: 0.85 / 17% || 1.25 / 25% || 2.1 / 42%

Ankle: 0.85 / 17% || 1.25 / 25% || 2.1 / 42%

BLUNT TRAUMA

Getting hit…

Aside from the obvious risk of getting smacked upside the head or breaking bones (see above) there are assorted other injuries and complications which can arise.

Due to the elasticity of the ribcage getting smacked in the chest can cause a person to fly backwards some distance. Of course this means they can bounce off of something else and hurt themselves that way. At best they’re going to be winded and have difficulty breathing, which causes a certain amount of panic in most people. And it looks rather alarming.

Heavy blows to the back can damage the spine resulting in possible paralysis and death. Kidney injuries are also common when someone is hit in the small of the back. They can bleed and may shut down altogether. Kidney failure means the body can’t clear certain waste products from its system, if the waste products build up too far then coma and death can result.

Internal organs such as the liver and spleen can also be damaged by blunt trauma and bleed as detailed above. Other organs which may be injured are the pancreas and the intestines.

If the pancreas is damaged it may spill digestive enzymes which start to digest the person’s own insides. Obviously this is rather painful and unpleasant.

Damage to the intestines can result in blockages (causing pain, nausea and vomiting), bleeding, and the release of bacteria into the bloodstream resulting in septic shock (high fever followed by sudden drop in temperature and blood pressure – fatal if not treated) This can take 24 hours or more.

Usual treatment for internal injuries is IV feeding, antibiotics, painkillers and sometimes surgery.

BURNS

Burns are classified into degree by their seriousness.

1st degree burns – Red, sensitive skin, like a sunburn.

2nd degree burns – Blistering on the first layer of skin (the epidermis) only.

3rd degree burns – Damage to both the epidermis and dermis (the first two layers of skin), visible scars.

Burns over more than 70% of the body are life threatening due to dehydration and the risk of shock, kidney failure and infection.

Electrical shock

Physical marks can vary from none at all to severe tissue damage depending on the severity of the shock.

Internal damage can be done by electrical current traveling along the nerves and blood vessels.

Source: Leia Fee (with additions by Susannah Shepherd) Part 2 ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[nghtwngs]

soft currents next to you

description: there is falling in love. there is also falling into another universe. there is also falling in love again.

pairing: robert “bob” reynolds x batgirl!reader, dick grayson x batgirl!reader [unrequited]

genre: angst, fluff, smut [see warnings below], friends to lovers, unrequited love, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, slow burn, found family, crossover, hanahaki au

word count: 12.3k

warnings: 18+ mdni, semi-graphic depictions of a fictional terminal illness [hanahaki disease], themes of mental illness, mentions of drug abuse, addiction, and recovery [bob], doesn’t follow any specific dick grayson canon so the timeline might be kinda weird [you don’t need to know anything if you’re only here for bob], mostly thunderbolts* canon-compliant and obviously spoilers, she/her pronouns used to refer to reader, implied masturbation, skippable smut scene near end: fingering, oral [fem-receiving], unprotected sex [stay safe, guys; this is just a fic], creampie, subtle dom/sub undertones [reader seriously needs a break and i’m a softdom!bob truther], hints of dumbification [i’m also indulgent]

Лена, ты слышишь? [Lena, you hear that?]

a/n: as a dick grayson girl, writing him not returning reader’s feelings tears a piece of my soul away, but i gotta do it for the fic. idk if this idea is way too niche or not but thanks to @b4tgirlz for being a real one and the only person i can talk comics [& obsess over fictional men] with

It itches. Love itches, you mean. Not for everyone, not for the lucky ones. But that’s how it begins for you: with an itch. It’s the kind you can’t scratch. All you can do is suffer and suppress it, clear your throat over and over until Dick starts to look concerned even though you’re not the one in the hospital bed right now. There are million other faces here. You feel like they’re all staring. And then you cough some more, feigning temporary illness. You’re temporarily ill often these days. That’s when you finally excuse yourself to the bathroom.

You wonder if you’d see pity on their faces if you look back.

The flowers claw their way out of your throat as if they’re covered in thorns. Like they’re badgers blindly burrowing out of the tunnel that’s your esophagus. You carefully avoid touching the toilet seat. Your coughs begin to fill up every inch of the room, echoing off the tile. You don’t have to worry about someone hearing you. The rest of the stalls are empty. You checked. You don’t have to risk seeing a stranger look at you with pity, or even worse, a person you know. You don’t even want to think about that.

The mess you’re making might have even been pretty if you didn’t know what it meant, where it came from. It seems rather ironic for such a thing to be so beautiful, but people have been seeing beauty in pain and suffering for centuries, so in some sadistic way, it’s sort of beautiful. The petals always come before the whole flowers, almost as if to prepare you for it. Still, you’re never prepared.

It’s violently red today; generally, a bad sign.

You pick up a stray blue petal from the floor between your fingers, letting it whirl down into the toilet. You wipe the blood off the seat with toilet paper. There’s a sign above the seat covers. ‘Don’t flush flowers.’

Why should you care? Your throat is sore. You’re dying. You’re sure you’d find the disposal box, the one specifically made for the flowers, empty anyway. You flush.

You unlock the stall, walking over to the sink. Your reflection stares back at you with bleary eyes and a hard frown. It’s a sight you’ve grown familiar to. You’re quickly wiping the stray tears off your cheeks and your eyes with the back of your hands. Deep breath. In. Out.

You scrub your hands clean with soap. Again. Again. And again. Specifically, that spot between your fingers. You can still feel it. The flower petal. Soaked and dripping onto your finger. Red. The water is scorching. It gets rid of the feeling.

It’s only the squeak of the door opening that makes you pull away. Like your hands weren’t numb. You pretend like you didn’t just flinch from the sound. You stare down at your hands for a moment before drying them off and exiting the restroom. You don’t spare the stranger a glance.

There was only one home for you, and it was here, in Dick Grayson’s soft bed. For a teenage boy, his room was pretty pristine. For Dick, it embodied the Wonder Boy he was. You’re too tired to continue watching Jeopardy, Dick guessing nearly all of the questions correctly while Wally huffs as he gets nearly all of them wrong. It took him a few episodes to realize you’re supposed to answer with the question because he kept leaving to grab more food. (You’ll help poor Alfred restock the cabinets later, even when he kindly waves off your help. But he’ll eventually relent. He always does.) Wally pouts, quickly speeding to the kitchen to find more snacks for himself to fill up the endless void of his appetite.

Dick’s shoulder somehow manages to be comfortable, and you feel the tugs of the Dreaming, wrapping its delicate hand around your head, pulling you away.

“Goodnight,” you hear faintly when the Sandman opens his gates for you.

You dream of Dick Grayson that night. Like you do every other one.

The mission was supposed to be easy. So easy, in fact, that they sent the Teen Titans out. You were still settling into the team, practically clinging to Robin as much as you could—much to Kid Flash’s dismay—since he was your best friend—also much to Wally’s dismay.

But you wake up dizzy, your head held by your Robin, who you’ve never seen so worried. Normally the most calm and collected one, besides you, Dick slipped into his leader role easily. He holds your head like you’re made of glass, and you can barely make out a few of his words.

Explosion… Down. No. Yes. One. Batman… Help.

His voice, although panicked, is soothing enough for you to slip back into unconsciousness. You don’t even hear him crying ‘Batgirl!’ to get you to return to him.

While recovering from the various injuries you had sustained, you’ve developed a weird cough that won’t go away, even when you take that wonderful Chinese cough syrup three times a day for a full fortnight. That stuff has always worked like a charm for that pesky lingering cough you sometimes get after a cold. On the fourth week, you get terribly annoyed and go see the doctor. They try every scan on the planet (and the galaxy). They tell you there’s nothing wrong but to return if it gets worse.

The prescription-grade cough syrup tastes much worse than Pei Pa Koa.

The coughing does get worse when you spot them one night: Dick has his arm slinked around Kori’s waist, standing a little too close to her to be considered friendly. When she first arrived to Earth, you saw the way Dick’s gaze gravitated towards her. Like everyone else’s, yours did too. She just had that aura about her that made you never want to look away. You think she’s just started up modeling recently. Not for money or anything. Just for fun.

It starts to get blurry, but you think there’s an innocent kiss or a touch or something. You have to get away. People are starting to glance at you because of your incessant coughing. And for some reason, your lungs begin to ache. A constriction roots inside your chest, your hand making a tight fist to dull the pain.

When you go to the bathroom and cough up a single little pink petal instead of the alcohol you’d just consumed, your breath is stolen away by more than just the petal. Denial is a game you love to play, so you flush it quickly down the toilet after staring at it for five minutes. Hanahaki Disease was one of the rarest but most fatal if not resolved quickly.

Surely the world couldn’t curse you that much, could it?

You hear a knock on the door and then that familiar sweet voice you love, asking if you were alright.

Were people really that unlucky?

Two more flower petals have to crawl their way up your throat before you reluctantly step into a doctor’s office again. This time, you don’t go to the Titan’s medical team. You go to someone who claims to be a Hanahaki expert. You feel for those people, the ones who know diseases with no cure like the back of their hand.

When the results come in, both you and the expert stare, horrified, at the x-ray of your lungs. You’d be lucky to make it beyond the end of next year.

New York City is a little different here.

No Batman, no Joker, no Superman—no Nightwing. And who were you if not Dick Grayson’s best friend?

There is no Gotham here, the center of attention on your world for having the highest rate of crime in the world for eighty-six (and counting) consecutive years! Instead, it’s New York City and some parts of Newark that take the brunt of the destruction caused by supervillains, aliens and the like, and superheroes.

The first day you were dropped off into this world, some government agency grabbed you up for interrogation. Twelve hours each day for an entire fortnight like clockwork. Any injuries you sustained were patched up that first day, but your shoulder was still killing you. You’d been on medication for your lung and throat pain already, but the meds they gave you were thankfully a little stronger.

The not-so-friendly agents were assessing whether you were a threat or not to the safety of the American people, but once it was clear your story had no flaws and that you were powerless, they reluctantly gave you proper papers to go about your business until someone—perhaps the new Avengers (whoever they were)—could figure out a way to get you back to your world. Considering this Earth has had its fair share of run-ins with people from other Earths already, your presence wasn’t exactly a surprise.

Still, even after you were freed from government custody, you could feel their eyes on you, scrutinizing your every move. The government was only waiting for the slightest slip-up. It was nice to know you were never alone, even on a different planet.

When Valentina Allegra de Fontaine hears about you, she feels like she struck gold.

Experienced hero plucked right from her earth and dropped right onto this one. All alone and surely in need of some familiar environments—a new home even.

While the Avengers weren’t not getting along, things weren’t exactly smooth sailing either. With the public not exactly accepting them as the new Avengers with open arms, Valentina needed something to bring them some credibility. And now, she thinks she’s found her something.

Immediately, she has Mel reschedule all her meetings that day, so that she could arrange one with you. Shouldn’t be too hard to convince a hero to be a hero now, can it?

It was apparent by your poorly restrained eye rolls and that smile of yours—if you could even call it that—that you were unimpressed by her. But she keeps that grin on her face as she explains to you how helpful your set of skills would be to her and her freshman team, the Avengers.

“With your abilities and prior experience with teamwork as part of the Tights—“

“—Titans.”

She presses her lips together in a sickeningly sweet smile as she corrects herself, “Titans, you’ll be a wonderful fit for my team. None of them have ever been on a team like this before, so it would just be lovely if you could show them a thing or two.”

“Haven’t they been working together for almost a year now? I’ve seen articles.”

Her eyes crinkle again. Valentina nods. “Yeah, but I’m sure you know how it is,” she says with a quiet chuckle.

“I don’t, actually,” you deadpan.

As always, she keeps her head held high, her calm hands sat in her lap. “Well, please consider the offer. I’ll add a generous bonus to it just for you.”

���I don’t need your money, Ms. Fontaine,” you tell her, crossing your arms. “I’d like to go home.”

She kisses her teeth. She’s the one correcting you this time, “De Fontaine.”

You know a bitch when you meet one, but then she offers to fund research for getting you back onto your world if you’ll take a place on the team. Valentina has finally hit the jackpot.

You didn’t like joining teams after they have formed. Not great for bonding when people have already built and burned their bridges, but since you had nothing better to do, you tentatively agree to work with them temporarily while some scientists, and now hers, figure out how to get you home.

Valentina feels like she’s won, but she’s shaking your hand and congratulating you, “Welcome to the Avengers, Batgirl.”

From the news articles you’ve read about the Avengers, New Avengers, B-vengers, whatever… it seems like the public is kinda hot-and-cold with them right now. You wonder if Valentina really believes you’ll boost their ratings.

While you’re not expecting the warmest of welcomes from a team who appears to be a bunch of random people with cool abilities stuck together in Rapunzel’s tower, this is definitely more unpleasant than you had expected it to be.

It also sounds like Valentina just shared with them the news from the obvious apprehension they regard you with.

The elevator ride had been awkwardly long getting up here (which you’re unfortunately used to, considering Bruce likes his Batcaves way below the surface), and now it’s somehow even more awkward. Mel, Valentina’s personal assistant, had been kind to you from the get-go, but you doubt you could trust anybody who willingly works for a monster like Valentina. You also came across the videos of her impeachment trial on YouTube while trying to make sure your favorite creators were also on this Earth.

The woman with the short bleached blonde hair, who you assume is the team’s leader by her assertiveness, tells you her name. Her gaze is reasonably wary but not entirely unkind. Yelena, you learn. The British woman on her left is Ava, also known as Ghost. (Cool name. Thanks.) The man wearing the silly beret is John Walker—Captain America. The giant on Yelena’s right (You heard her call him dad.) is Alexei Shostakov, who boisterously introduces himself as the Red Guardian. He grows twice as excited when he finds out you speak Russian (Лена, he gasps, ты слышишь?), among many other languages. Briefly, Yelena explains that there’s another member, but he won’t return until around six p.m. since Congress closes at five.

You pause to stare at them. “You have a Congressman on this team? Is that even like…? There’s gotta be some conflict of interest there, right?” Each of them shrug at you, clearly never having questioned it before. “Right?”

Christ.

“And we can’t forget,” Alexei starts with a big, toothy smile, holding his palm out towards the person lounging in the chair by the giant window—Is that not a security concern?—“Bob.”

“Bob?” you echo.

They all look at you, nodding. “Bob.”

The man in said chair sits up a little straighter before he meets your eyes with a sheepish smile, returning your little introductory wave. He sets his book down, pretending like he wasn’t already paying attention to this little meet-and-greet going on. Quickly, you realize it’s your turn and lamely introduce yourself to the group.

“Your hero name is… Batgirl?” John snorts.

You glare at him, retorting, “What’s so funny, Captain America?”

Yelena and Ava snicker at each other beside you, murmuring, “Off-brand.”

He huffs, looking at everyone. “Well, fuck you guys.”

“Well, I’d rather not,” you answer, giggling.

“Oh, very funny. Very mature.”

“Don’t mind him. He’s just an asshole,” you hear Bob whisper, having shuffled behind you.

You smile. “Oh, really? Couldn’t tell. Thanks.” You explain to the team, “The name Batgirl is special—it was given to me, and now, since they probably think I’m dead, it will be passed down from me to someone else.”

Yelena says thoughtfully, “Oh, like Captain America… but officially.”

“I was the official Captain America!” John cries out with indignation, throwing his arms up in the air.

“Tell us more,” encourages Alexei. “Is your world much different from ours?”

John quickly gives you a once-over and then interrupts you before you can even open your mouth, “Why not Batwoman?”

“Taken.” You shrug. “I got comfortable. Didn’t really ever feel like I needed to change just yet. But I guess I’m not a teenager anymore.” You let out a quiet chuckle and gesture to Alexei. “And to answer your question, besides several major cities not existing here, not really.” You shrug. “I think the main differences are people… like the heroes and criminals.” You gesture back-and-forth, saying, “We have Batman, you have Iron Man. We have Superman, you have Captain America. I think those are comparable, I’m not exactly sure.”

“Since you’re Batgirl,” John begins inquisitively and not good-naturedly, “there a Batboy, Batdude, Batguy… too?”

You naturally glare at him. “It’s Robin.” Nightwing now, actually.

“Oh, keeping up with the small, flying animal thing,”—he nods thoughtfully—“I see.”

Asshole.

“Ignore him; he just kind of talks,” Ava says, rolling her eyes.

In your lifetime of crime-fighting, there have been plenty of missions gone sideways. But this one? This one definitely takes the cake for being the worst.

“No one even thought to bring a screwdriver?” There was one in your toolkit, granted, it was the one you lost when you slipped through the cracks of the multiverse.

Walker grunts, readying his shield. “Why can’t we just smash it?”

“You can’t break it,” you say for the third time, holding out your palm to stop him, “or we all die.”

“Well, we’ll die anyway if we don’t get out of here.”

“I mean, yeah, just a lot more slowly.”

No wonder Valentina was desperate (She’d never admit to that.) to get you on her little team of heroes. They were a disaster. By some grace of all the higher powers in life there were (You actually knew a few.), you all managed to get out alive and, relatively, unscathed.

“After this,” you say with a strong huff and after a few untimely coughs, “remind me to buy a nice set of tools for each of us.”

The ride home isn’t too bad though. Alexei started a mixtape for them even before your arrival because the silence got a little awkward. And there’s only so much a super soldier can do to keep spirits high. With some enthusiasm, you add a few of your own songs to the playlist, feeling a bit more at home with this team of outcasts turned family.

“Where are you headed?” Walker asks, watching you walk towards the exit, still clad in your suit.

Everyone else was now in their civilian clothing for the night, grateful to shed away their suits for something more comfy after a full day’s mission. And yeah, you all almost died. But that was really just another Tuesday.

“Nightly patrol,” you answer, stopping in front of the elevator. Standing near the air conditioner, your black cape continues to flow. (While Walker would never admit it aloud, it looks seriously cool.) The elevator’s up arrow indicator lights up. “It’s been awhile since I’ve done it, and I need to learn the street names.” Their confused stares grow uncomfortable quickly, forcing you to ask, “What? You guys don’t do patrols?”

Everyone looks around at each other, before shaking their heads with a collective “No.”

“So what… you only do missions?”

“I mean…” Yelena begins, a thoughtful look taking over her face, “yeah.”

“The hell you guys even do around here then?” You chuckle, stepping into the opening elevator, offering them a playful wave goodbye. The alone time would be a relief.

Wayne Enterprises and Wayne Foundation galas, you were no stranger to. After being a friend of the family for more than half your life now, you knew how to smile at the camera and talk some snobby but loaded people into donating to your charities. Although not only a charity gala, but also an entire event dedicated to your inauguration into the Avengers, you still slipped into your socializing mode easily.

Thank Jesus, Valentina thinks as she watches you charm some old money bags. Two dozen reporters had hounded her on her way inside the venue, shouting their questions:

Is she not a liability? She could be lying about her past.

Why would another world’s hero help protect ours? She didn’t grow up here! She’s practically an alien!

Well, Thor was also an Avenger, she pointed out, shutting the reporter up. But maybe he gets more leeway because he’s a man.

But finally, an Avenger with some damn media training that wouldn’t embarrass themselves and her like the other losers. Even Congressman Barnes couldn’t compete, which was as pathetic as it was sad.

The glass of the champagne you’ve been barely sipping has grown grossly warm under your tight grip. Honestly, you just needed something to hold to keep your hands busy. After an entire hour of meeting high profile guests, you desperately need a break. It would be suspicious if you took another trip to the restroom though, so you opt for walking around, pretending like you have somewhere to be, people to charm. That always works, doesn’t it?

On your second stroll around the venue, you catch a stray six-foot man lurking around Yelena like a lost puppy. “Hey,” you greet them. “Enjoying the party?”

“It’s nice, yeah,” Yelena answers, lifting up her champagne glass, clinking it against yours before taking a sip. “Good alcohol. And congratulations.”

“Thanks.” You chuckle softly, taking a small sip yourself. “Didn’t take you for a champagne girl.”

She shrugs playfully, smiling at you. “I’m full of surprises.”

“What about you, Bob?” you ask, glancing at him with a teasing glint in your eye. “You a champagne kinda girl?”

A soft laugh falls from Bob’s mouth as his head shakes. “No, unfortunately not.” He scratches the back of his head, continuing, “Been sober for awhile now.”

“Oh, I see. That’s great. That takes more strength than people think.” With your shoulder, you nudge his, smiling kindly. “This your first gala?”

“Uh, no, it’s my second… We had to attend one for the Avengers’ six-month anniversary or something.”

“Jesus, you have anniversary parties?”

He chuckles, nodding. “Valentina’s idea.”

“I figured.” Your eyes scan around the room before meeting Bob’s once more. “You enjoy these things?”

He pauses for a moment, considering whether or not to be truthful. After seeing no harm in it—you’ve been way nicer than any of the other people he’s met—he answers truthfully, “Not really.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

“Really? You’re really good at talking to these people though. I saw you earlier, and you seemed so…”

“Comfortable?” you add helpfully.

He nods.

“I’m just a master in the art of bullshit,” you joke. “After four-five-hundred of these, it starts to get a little easier.”

“Only three-hundred ninety-eight more to go, then.”

“Don’t worry, Bob, as the resident gala expert, I’ll keep you company. You’re in safe hands.” Abandoning your champagne flute, you link your arm with his. “You mind joining me for my third stroll around the place?”

Neither of you had noticed Yelena slip away from the two of you, and when you did, you didn’t acknowledge it either.

There’s some surprise evident on his handsome features, as if he’d expected you to leave him to the wolves here with Yelena gone. But he smiles back at you and says, “Not at all.”

“You ever gotten Bob the Builder?” you ask after about ten minutes of mindless conversation and making fun of some of the silly-looking guests in their extravagant dresses and thousand-dollar Rolexes.

“No, not yet.” He shakes his head.

You lift your hand over your mouth, which lets out an excited gasp at his admission. “I’m the first?”

“You’re the first,” he echoes back. The corners of his mouth curl up into a smile at your enthusiasm.

A sound of delight forms from your lips. “I like being the first, Bob the Builder.” You pause to meet his gaze, asking sincerely, “You don’t mind it, right?”

“No,” he says truthfully. Not from you, he doesn’t add.

“Oh, no. Four o’clock, incoming,” you whisper into his ear, which nearly makes him shiver—thankfully, it doesn’t. “I’ll lead. Take notes, alright?”

There’s an elderly couple heading straight towards you with pleasant visages, cooing at how nice the two of you look. You accept the compliment with ease, and the pair unknowingly follow your expert lead into the conversation. It’s kind of magic how you manage to hit all your marks: your newfound place on the team, charity, and a hopeful future for the city and the world. Beat for beat.

“That was pretty awesome,” Bob tells you once you’ve parted from the lovely couple.

“And what’d you learn, Bob?”

“I need to become as pretty as you.”

You blink a few times, flattered by the sincerity in his words. “That’s sweet of you,” you thank him, smiling down at your feet. “Thanks.”

Maybe it’s only now that Bob realizes what’s just come out of his mouth because his cheeks redden, almost becoming as red as the wine being served next to you. “It’s nothing,” he replies, smiling coyly. “Did you see the cake yet?”

“The giant one with my face printed on it?” You cringe outwardly. “Yeah, yeah, I did. Could’ve used a better picture though,” you mutter, tongue poking your cheek.

“I think you look nice.”

Your lips press together tightly, appreciative of his reassuring words. “Thanks, Bob. I’ve never really been celebrated like this before… It’s kind of weird. Birthday parties are one thing, but this? This is something else entirely, y’know? I didn’t even get to pick any of these decorations, or the flavor of the cake—honestly, I don’t even like it. Valentina’s event planners arranged everything. I didn’t choose the charity either… Well, I shouldn’t be complaining. This isn’t really even for me. It’s for the team…”

“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be able to enjoy it.” He then says pointedly, “It’s your face on the cake.”

“I guess…” You press your lips together before inwardly groaning. “Oh, some more investors are coming our way. I won’t make you sit through this one too. See you later?”

He nearly protests, but the words die on his tongue as he watches you blend back into the crowd, slipping so effortlessly into your charm-the-pants-off-rich-people-for-charity persona.

It’s not for another hour that you see Bob again. Your eyes were automatically searching for him in the crowd as you were speaking to some CEOs or whatever. You felt a little bad for leaving him alone, but he probably went looking for Yelena. But then you spot him walking your way with a white box clutched tightly in his hands.

“Hey, I found you,” he says softly, like he’s been looking for you his entire life. Your throat tingles. He slips the box into your hands, watching you open it with hopeful eyes. “Since it’s your party and all, I knew you couldn’t leave. But no one would notice if I stepped out for a moment, so I went out to a bakery a couple blocks away and got you a slice of cake you’ll actually want to eat.”

Your favorite flavor of cake sits right in your palms, putting a smile of awe on your face. “And it doesn’t have my face on it,” you say, chuckling quietly.

Teasingly, he points his thumb back towards the entrance and says, “I could always go back and—“

“No, oh my God.” You laugh sweetly. “But wow, thank you, Bob. Let me pay you back for it—“

“No, no—it’s okay. It’s nothing, really. I just thought you should at least get a cake you like.”

Holding it tightly to your chest, you admit to him, “I did notice you were gone.”

“Yeah?”

“I was looking for you,” you begin sheepishly. “My star pupil disappeared on me. I thought you went back to the tower, honestly. I wouldn’t have blamed you. I wanna be back in my bed right now.”

“Well… I didn’t.”

“You didn’t.” Kissing your teeth, you offer, “You wanna share this cake with me, Bob the Builder?”

At his shy acceptance, the two of you make it out of that suffocating party together, sitting on the steps out back to take turns eating the cake with the single fork Bob had retrieved—he had only gotten it for you, but he doesn’t quite mind this, nor the fork that’s stained slightly by the pretty color off your lips.

“Are these team building weekends really necessary?” you hear John ask from behind you, stepping off the jet, his bag slung around his shoulder.

You turn your head to raise your eyebrows at him. “You really complaining about a free vacation?”

“Well, we could be doing some actual Avengers work right now.”

“I think we’re allowed a break every once in awhile. We’ve been on mission after mission for the last few months. And frankly, a beach chair and a good book are calling my name right now. C’mon, Bob, book club isn’t gonna start itself.” You pull the willing brunet towards the beach house to claim first pick of rooms.

“Walker,”—Alexei slaps him on the back hard, almost causing him to tumble down the stairs—“only you would complain about beach vacation.”

John tries to shrug him off. “I’m not complaining—we should just be doing field work now.”

“You’re so lame,” Ava remarks with a smirk as she walks in direction you and Bob were headed.

“She’s right,” Yelena adds monotonely, following the rest of the group. “You are so boring, Walker.”

John huffs indignantly, adamantly denying the accusations being thrown at him. “I’m just thinking of the team!” He watches them all walk towards the beautiful, multimillion dollar beach house. Perhaps, it wouldn’t hurt to enjoy a day or two. They’re already out here anyway.

“Do you like the book I got you the other day?” you ask Bob once you’ve claimed your room—the view was arguably the best one in the place. “You were reading it on the way here.”

He nods, lifting it up for you to see. There’s a bookmark neatly wedged in between some pages where he left off at earlier. “Yeah, yeah, it’s good. I’m almost finished.”

“Great. Which room did you end up picking?”

“Oh, just… the one right here.” He points to the room next to yours.

“Hey, we’re neighbors.” You playfully elbow him. “I’m gonna go change, and then we can head to the beach, alright? See you in a bit.”

He offers you a small wave as you disappear into your room, leaving him behind in the hallway.

“Watch out, lover boy, coming through,” John grunts, hauling his bag past him. A soldier should always pack light, but he’s also prepared for whatever comes their way, so he brought most of his weapons.

“What?” Bob splutters.

“Yeah, I mean, if you wanna be a little more discreet about it, then I’d suggest stop making eyes at her.”

“I don’t—“

“As much as it pains me to agree with Walker, he’s right,” Yelena admits, crossing her arms. “But you guys are cute.”

“Sickeningly,” Ava comments, walking up the staircase.

“So very cute.” Alexei nods enthusiastically in agreement, continuing, “You two are like Romeo and Juliet.”

Bob groans internally, clutching the book you gifted him a little tighter. Was almost everyone aware of his little crush on you now?

Ava cocks her head, narrowing her eyes at Alexei. “You do know they kill themselves at the end?”

“I really don’t…” Bob mumbles, offering them all a nervous smile, “it’s not like that.”

“I don’t see any reason not to go for it.” Bucky shrugs, giving him a tight-lipped smile. “She seems pretty into you too.”

Okay, so everyone was aware.

Little did they know, you were hurling up some blue Salvias into your toilet. Right before you flush, you whisper a quick prayer that the toilet pipes don’t get clogged. Out of the various types of flowers your lungs have grown, you hate the long ones the most. They take way too much time to come up and make your throat all itchy. The only good thing about this one was that it was thornless.

There was something sweet about watching the team relax—Well, not stress over dying a painful death because volleyball was not exactly relaxing.—over a game of volleyball. The weather was perfect, hot but not overly so, making the wind feel fantastic as it came through. The smell of the seawater would waft towards you as it did, and it was pretty damn relaxing. You and Bob were sitting under the shade of a beach umbrella, reading your respective novels. After a match or two, Ava taps out to go enjoy the views, forcing Yelena to come and persuade you or Bob to join in on their little game.

You shake your head. “I wanna finish this,” you tell her. “It just started to ramp up.” Turning to your book club buddy, you encourage him with a gentle nudge. “But you should go.”

While Dick Grayson carries your heart (and your life, both unbeknownst to him) on his person, it’s not like you couldn’t appreciate a pretty person. And boy is Bob Reynolds pretty. He got hot easily, so he had quickly ditched his shirt after a few minutes of sitting and reading. It’s been awhile since you’ve wanted to chew your knuckles over the sight of a deliriously beautiful man before, and you think you’ve maybe read fifteen pages in the last hour out here. And because you also want to finish your novel in a timely, decent manner, you shoo him kindly over to the others.

Bob has never played volleyball a day in his life.

Once he gets the rules explained to him, he catches on easily and does pretty well for himself and his team (Yelena). Perhaps it was a mistake to send him off to play volleyball. Your eyes keep wandering over to him and his abs that apparently miraculously appeared because of the Project Sentry serum. Curse you for having needs, you suppose. Bob is your friend, you remind yourself, feeling worse that you could be thinking such impure thoughts about someone who’s so quickly gained your friendship.

Only over his dead body would he confess such a thing, but after seeing you in your swimsuit earlier, Bob had to make a hasty and shameful trip to his bathroom.

You had fallen asleep next to Bob while watching his third favorite movie, your head laying right on his fluttering chest. But when he wishes you good dreams that night, he forgets—just for a moment—about the Void. So when he slips into the same darkness, he opens his eyes, only to see someone who looks an awful lot like you. While he stumbles a little closer to watch, it just takes him another moment before he realizes it is you.

The long white hallways tell him they’re in a hospital, but it’s not you who is injured. You’re standing up, rubbing your hand down someone’s back as he paces along the white tiled floors. Bob can make out your puffy eyes, but there are no tears in sight, only from the man you’re attempting to console.

“She’ll be fine, Dick,” you say softly, taking his hand into yours to kiss his knuckles. The sight makes Bob uncomfortable, but he’s not sure why it does when you’re only trying to console someone. “Babs is strong. You know that as well as I do.”

He blinks, and suddenly, you’re on your knees in the bathroom, violently throwing up. Was that a flower petal? They’re still in the hospital, considering the fluorescent and obscenely bright lights. He hadn’t spotted you earlier, but now he could clearly see you watching your own memory yourself before quickly shooting up from his very real bed to empty your stomach into his trash can.

But you don’t make it in time and something blue and red makes it cruel path out of your esophagus and onto his floor. He quickly realizes the red is blood, but the blue… is a flower? Bob appears, reasonably, horrified at the sight of what had just crawled its bloody way up and out of your throat moments ago.

It has been awhile since you’ve thrown up flowers, but you think it’s because you haven’t been around Dick in awhile. But while he may not be physically present on this earth, it’s obvious he still lives in your every memory.

Bob’s index finger shoots out, pointing directly at the flower on his floor. His other hand come ups to cover his mouth in attempt to stifle his own potential projectile reaction. “What—what is that?”

“A flower,” you cough, wiping your mouth of blood.

“How the fuck did you cough up a fucking flower?”

“I’m dying.” The confession comes out so easily, and you blame Bob for being such a disarming person. He’s now seen your world through your memories. He’s almost been there since day one.

He doesn’t know whether he should laugh or not, so he waits for you to crack a smile or show any sign of amusement after that. You do nothing but stare at him.

“How?”

“Love.” You continue with a defeated shrug, “I’m dying because the guy I love doesn’t return my feelings.”

“You can die from that?”

“On my world, you can. It’s rare but possible.”

“And you…?”

You nod.

He glances down once more to the mess on his floor that you’ll try to clean up later with embarrassment running through your bones, but he’ll help you despite your protests and apologies. He always will. “Does it hurt?”

You wipe your lips with the back of your hand. “Not anymore. You get used to the feeling. And well, I’ve also been stabbed. Like a lot.”

He can’t help but stare, unable to say any words of sympathy. He wants to, believe him, but they don’t come as easy as he would like. “Is he… the one from…?”

You nod pathetically. “Dick Grayson. Bestest friend in the world—my world.”

“You’d think after becoming literally invincible, you wouldn’t be so afraid of heights anymore,” you tease Bob, whose shaky eyes are trained far away from the side of the tower beneath your dangling legs.

He swallows, barely giving a glance down. “Yeah, I’m still not so great with heights,” he tells you sheepishly.

“That’s a shame. I’d have loved to show you some rooftop parkour on one of my patrols. You could’ve kept me company. For a bit, at least. I know you aren’t… ready.” You kick your feet in the air a little as you continue, “I suppose your suit wasn’t really made for that anyway. You might trip on your little cape.”

“Don’t laugh.” Bob pouts.

“I’m—”—you wheeze—“—not.”

He scoffs at you, playfully nudging your shoulder. “Sure you aren’t. And don’t you have a cape too?”

You’re laughing so hard that you double over, clutching your stomach. “Well, it’s shorter, and I also have like over ten years of experience—shit, am I really that old now?”

“Mhm.”

“Oh, shut up,” you mumble, calming down from your fit of giggles.

The air grows quiet between you, but it remains serene. Well, you suppose it’s as quiet as New York gets at night. Less traffic, less honking, less stress. From a rooftop nearby the two of you snuck onto, you can see the skyline clearly. The window lights, which twinkle like a million tiny stars, are breathtaking. It’s a peace neither of you have felt in a long time, sometimes one you can barely afford with a life like yours. It feels like everything you say would just disappear into the air, but you also know the other will hold onto it if asked. So you’re grateful for this and for Bob, who never ever takes and only gives—perhaps even too much. And maybe it’s time for him to take something of yours.

Your voice sounds so small when you hear the words out loud for the very first time. “I don’t think I wanna be Batgirl anymore…”

Bob stares at you with wide eyes, spluttering, “You wanna quit?”

“It’s not that,” you explain. “I mean, I did quit for awhile after I started showing signs… I could barely look at Dick without coughing up rose petals from my lungs, but I just. I think I wanna be my own thing now, y’know? I wasn’t the first Batgirl, and I certainly won’t be the last… I just—I’d like to choose who I’m going to be this time.”

“I get that. When Valentina…” He gestures vaguely around himself. “When she made me into the Sentry, I didn’t get to choose any of it. The team told me after I lost my memory of what happened… that day last year. She came up with the name, gave me the suit and cape, told me what to do. And then, the Void happened… and now, I’m here.”

“Well, if it means anything to you, I think Bob is pretty great,” you say with a tiny, lop-sided smile.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Batgirl is pretty cool too, I guess—hey!” He rubs his arm where you whacked him before continuing with a pointed tone, “I was going to say, ‘Batgirl is pretty cool too, but whoever you want to be, I think I’ll like her too.’”

“You really think so?”

“I know so.”

It seems otherworldly fortuitous when a nightingale flies by, perching itself on the edge of the same rooftop you two were sat on.

You’re sitting on the arm of Bob’s lounging chair, peering over his shoulder to watch a YouTube video on setting up your new IKEA bookshelf on his phone.

“Does somebody have a flower garden in their room?” You and Bob glance up from his chair at Alexei, who’s holding a… familiar-looking trash bag. He picks up a handful of the flowers, stained with your blood but rinsed in case of something like this. “I must say these are beautiful. Very pretty. Shouldn’t be thrown out.” To your horror, Alexei begins to place all the intact flowers across the kitchen counters and the living room.

Bob’s sympathetic eyes are already on you when your gaze reaches his.

“I’m gonna kill myself,” you grumble, groaning quietly to yourself and Bob. “The one time I don’t take the trash out immediately.”

He tentatively places his hand over yours, making you look back at him again. A faint smile appears on your face, but it’s there.

You wake up early the next morning to quickly dispose of the flowers around the common spaces yourself, only to find them already gone. Weird, you think before spotting Bob in his usual relaxation spot. No one else was up yet. He’s relaxing in his chair by the window, reading another one of the books you recommended him. And you can’t help but smile a little, your heart feeling a tad warmer.

The day the itch in your throat—the one you’ve come to accept as second nature, is gone, you think is the day you will die. You had long since accepted your sentence, the terms and conditions you failed to read when you fell in love with bright-eyed and bushy-tailed Robin what feels like lifetimes ago now. So when your throat suddenly clears for the first time in years, you think it will be your last day on this Earth and the only other one you’ve ever known.

You’ve heard the stories… they say it hurts, or it feels cathartic. Those like you eventually all come to accept their fates as you have, but when you wake up the next morning and each one after that, you don’t know how to feel anymore.

After a few days, you show up to the leading team of doctors hired specifically by Valentina to keep her new Avengers alive. They knew about your condition since all your lung x-rays came back with a giant plant root wound painfully around your lungs. You were a medical wonder to them, and unfortunately, it also meant that the only information they had on your disease was well… from you. So when you didn’t die like you were supposed to, they were frankly just as puzzled as you were.

There were only two known ways to get rid of your ailment besides dying: one was to have your feelings returned by your unrequited love, the other was to surgically cut out the root from your lungs. The operation was highly experimental and highly risky. Those who have made it out alive have either lost their ability to feel love for their unrequited or for anybody altogether. In cases, that you’d argue were worse than death itself, some of them came out incapable of feeling any kind of emotion. To you, that would be losing your humanity. And how could you let go of that when you’ve seen what it’s done to others?

Scarecrow, Two-Face, the Joker.

It’s not for awhile that you realize your heart doesn’t stutter at the thought of Dick anymore, doesn’t clench and make that itch in your throat form a cough. But when exactly did you stop feeling that way about him?

Bob appears at your cracked door, knocking the frame with a gentle smile. “Wanna help me with breakfast?”

You glance over at him from your television—it’s playing Doctor Who, a show you’re grateful transcends the bounds of space—and nod. The smile you return him makes his grow a little brighter as you shuffle towards him to follow your somewhat daily routine.

“I know you clicked ‘Leave at door’, but I’ve got ice cream, some pastries, and a Pride & Prejudice Blu-ray for delivery, and I didn’t want your little kit to get stolen,” announces a voice through your door.

You snort, calling out, “I’m reporting you!” You twist the doorknob, finding Dick on the other side with an easy grin.

“Reporting me?” He gasps, clutching the items closer to his chest. “I’m just making sure these make it safely to their recipient. There are some hungry thieves out here, y’know,” he whispers, eyes shifting to a certain speedy ginger who happens to walk by at this particular moment.

You giggle, stepping aside for him to enter your room. “Gimme gimme.” You make grabby motions with your hands, trying to get him to hand you a pastry.

“Magic word?”

A groans slips out of your mouth before you begrudgingly mumble, “Please, Dick?”

“What was that?”

“Don’t push it.”

“You’re not going on patrol with me like… ever.” You scoff in disbelief at John, shaking your head.

“What?” He puffs, adjusting the beret on his head. “Why not? It’s boring here, and I just got my handgun fixed up.”

“Besides that alarming statement, you killed an innocent man in broad daylight…”

“Innocence is a matter of perspective.”

“No, Walker.”

“But it’s my turn to pick the movie tonight,” you grumble.

“Except it’s a stupid movie,” retorts John.

“Pride & Prejudice is not a stupid movie. It’s literally one of the cult classics! You made us watch Die Hard twice.”

“Also a cult classic—The first time was for the experience, and the second for Christmas.”

You scoff. “We’re watching Pride & Prejudice.”

The entire team was hesitant to watch the film at first, but throughout it, there were many tears shed… mostly by Alexei, although he tried to deny it, blaming the wind and dust. (You were inside.) Still, you could tell the others are enjoying it—even Walker, who was trying to pretend otherwise. Somewhere along the line, there was a joke or two about how Bucky—being as old as Jane Austen—should’ve played Mr. Darcy, garnering some snickers and a long sigh.

While Bob was definitely, totally paying attention to the movie, he seemed to be more interested in your expressions as you rewatched it for probably the billionth time. Even so, you were still completely captivated by it, smiling like a little kid. He watched you mouth some of the lines you’d known by heart to yourself. Eventually, he felt a tap on his shoulder, making him look back at Yelena.

While the others are absorbed into the movie, she whispers in his ear, “I know you like her, Bob, but the staring is getting creepy.”

He blushes and reduces his glances to once every five minutes instead.

You’re not sure how to bring it up—the rest of the Thunderbolts (Alexei filled you in on their temporary namesake before they became the Avengers, and then he and Yelena got into an argument about who was the actual sponsor of her Little League team.) aren’t even aware you’ve been dying. It’s great news, however, you’re not dying from unrequited love anymore! Still, you should probably tell Bob, the only person who was aware of your condition. But it had just felt unnatural to bring it up in any of your recent conversations.

Despite this, Bob does notice a change in you. Your face looks visibly brighter, and your body stronger. Your coughs went away almost completely, only occurring when someone is smoking outside or there’s construction pollution. He wonders if the disease that’s plagued you has realized you were too precious of a life to make a true victim. Because, to be frank, Bob has no idea what he’d do without you.

While the Thunderbolts understood pain and suffering, none of it could be considered normal. Child assassin, child experiment, super soldier, super asshole, Alexei. Not to say you had a normal childhood—you became a superhero as a freaking teenager, but your traumas were similar to his: dysfunctional family, depression, insecurities rooted so deeply into your being, you couldn’t get away from it. Although he and Yelena were close, you just got him. You clicked. You didn’t have to explain your feelings because the other always understood.

He never once felt like you looked through him. And whenever you smile at him, laugh with him, Bob feels some kind of euphoria. It’s better, cleaner than any high he’s ever gotten from meth and the like. Perhaps it’s not the most appropriate metaphor to make as a former addict (Nearly 1.5 years sober!), but he thinks he wants to stay high off of you.

He feels too anxious not to ask, so one night, he ends up at your door, knocking gently. Moments later, you open the door. “Oh, hey. What’s up?”

Bob clears his throat. “Just wanted to check in. Haven’t seen you all day.”

“You saw me at dinner,” you remind him, teasingly. You step aside, and he immediately shuffles into your room while you close the door behind him. “Something the matter, Bob?”

He’s not sure how to ask, so he just rips off the bandaid before he can chicken out. “Are you… feeling better now?”

It’s the most he can say it without actually saying it, but like always, you just understand.

“Oh, that…” You bite your lip, nodding slowly. “I am, actually. I think it might be gone.”

You can see his shoulders sag in relief, and he nearly envelops you in a hug. You catch the twitch of his body, as if it aches to be closer to yours. Yours makes the same kind.

“Good, great… I mean, that’s wonderful.”

You return his smile, echoing his sentiment. “It is. I’m just hoping that it clearing up isn’t some weird sign that I’m gonna spontaneously die. That would suck.”

“Don’t say that,” he grumbles. “I don’t really wanna think about that… You said it should go away once the feelings are returned or disappear, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“So that means…”

“Uh-huh.” You bite your tongue gently. “I guess being away from him helped with that. Only took being on an entirely different planet though…” You both release a small chuckle at that. “I knew he was never going to… But back then, I couldn’t really imagine anyone being better than him. But you know, I suppose that’s what best friends are for… What is it?”

A thoughtful little frown has settled onto Bob’s face. “What if he feels the same way about you, and that’s why you don’t have it anymore?”

“I guess I just know. You ever felt your heart beat for someone else?” Your hand presses against your chest, directly over it. “It’s, like, out of your control—and it squeezes up. But in a good way. That doesn’t happen when I think of him anymore.”

Bob knows that all too well.

You had never felt more alive than you did the day you put on the Batgirl suit.

Black, reinforced fabric fitted perfectly to you—the esteemed yellow bat symbol stitched proudly over your chest. Next to you, a cute boy with forest green combat boots and a little yellow ‘R’ over his heart. Playfully, he tugs on your cape.

There was nothing more freeing than feeling the wind in your face, slipping through your fingers as you leap from one rooftop to another with your best friend. Childish laughter fills the air as you start your patrol for the night.

At first, you were hesitant to make that first leap onto the next building. But then a kind hand reached out with an encouraging smile to match, guiding you onto the other side. His yellow cape glimmered gold under the moonlight, luring you to follow him to the edge of the world.

Concrete crumbles around you, the sounds of bombs exploding so loud that they rumble through your chest. Your memory is unfortunately a little foggy, having blacked out for a few moments. Hopefully. Some civilians are in the line of fire of some villains whose names you forget, forcing you to rush to their side to bring them to a safe place. You aren’t even sure what’s safe anymore.

There’s really not much thinking you can do—letting your autopilot run for you, your trained instincts taking the reins until you will eventually drop.

Evade. Save. Dodge. Kick. Jump. Punch.

Most importantly, don’t kill and don’t die.

In your daze of fighting and more fighting, you can barely make out the sounds of fabric ripping over the ringing in your ears and the fresh pain coursing through you. You guarantee there are cuts and bruises all over your face now, which you hope will heal faster and won’t scar like the wounds all over the rest of your body.

Bucky finds you underneath some rumble, struggling to lift it off of yourself, and helps you back to your feet to continue the fight. While Yelena is taking care of one of the people bombing the city, you run towards Ava and John to help them with the other. Alexei is too focused on bringing civilians to safety to notice you disarm the man trying to shoot at him.

Once the threat has been contained, you’re able to mourn the hero suit you’ve worn for the better part of your life. It’s torn in so many places that you can barely recognize it anymore. However, the Bat symbol has been spared and remains intact, as if to tell you your purpose still lives on.

Bob has nearly bitten all of his nails off waiting for you all to return to the tower, especially you. Because he was still technically a civilian, he wasn’t allowed to listen in on your comms. Instead, he anxiously watched the entire battle on the flatscreen in the living room. A few helicopters were circling around the few blocks of the city the destruction was taking place, recording everything.

It is unbearable trying not to pull you into his embrace when the team returns. You’re all headed straight for the med bay to get treated. It seems like you took most of the injuries, much to his horror, but you were the strongest person he knew. You could get through anything.

Your suit has been torn to shreds though. He winces each time he looks at it laying on the table beside you. The dark cape was completely ripped apart, leaving nothing but a few scraps you tried to fruitlessly pick up and take back. But you make light of it, telling him not to worry about it as you sip the warm tea he brought you, made exactly the way you like it. At least you were faring better than the suit.

“I think I was in need of something new anyway,” you muse, licking your lips. “Maybe it’s finally time I spread my wings. I’ve already jumped, or I guess fallen, out of the nest.”

“You pick out a name yet?”

You nod, setting down your cup of tea on the table. “Yeah, I decided awhile ago. You remember that night when we were sitting on that rooftop, and I made fun of your fear of heights?”

The relief that Nightwing feels when he sees that you’re alive and in one piece has him nearly in tears. Is that a new suit you’re wearing? That’s besides the point. The relief that Dick Grayson feels, though? It is immeasurable and shakes his entire body to his very soul. He’s been without his best friend (Sorry, Wally.) for nearly a year now, and to say that it’s been hard or difficult is an entirely gross understatement. He could barely eat or sleep the first few months after you had slipped through the literal cracks in the universe.

He should’ve caught you like he did every other time in your lives. Dick has always been your safety net, and he failed you the one time you needed him most. B told him he doesn’t have to go out on missions for awhile, but Dick needs to bury himself in his work. Not even Kori could console him, but she always tried. And while he appreciated it, he needed to be alone for awhile.

He loved Kori, truly, but his love for you was different. You were each other’s person. It was always you two against the world. (Again, sorry Wally.) Not necessarily in a romantic sense, but you guys were soulmates, completely in tune in every aspect of your lives—on the field and off. As Zatanna liked to put it, twin flames and whatnot.

The hug he pulls you into steals your breath away, bodies shaking. He kisses the top of your head, resting his cheek against it as he listens to you catch him up on everything since you landed on this Earth. If it had been any nicer occasion, he’d be freaking out with you about being on an alternate Earth.

But then you make a confession that’s stealing his breath away.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He looks more distraught than you’ve ever seen him before. There’s a little wrinkle between his eyebrows that you want you smooth out with your thumb like usual. But there’s nothing usual about telling your best friend you were going to suffocate to death because of a rare disease caused by your former love for him.

You breathe out a sad little laugh. “What would that have done?”

“I could’ve helped you—“

“—How, Dick?”

“B knows all the best doctors, he could’ve—“

“Dick…”

“I would’ve done anything to help you.”

You know what he means, and it makes your stomach curl. He is too good for the world. Any of them.

“You can’t force yourself to love me. Or anyone, for that matter.”

“I already do! I could’ve tried!”

You slink your arms around him, wrapping him into your embrace. “Boy Wonder, you can make plenty of miracles happen, but that? I don’t think so. And we both know it’s not that kind of love.”

“I do love you,” he responds defeatedly, melting into your warm, familiar embrace.

“I know you do. I love you too.” It is strange but also cathartic to be able to say that so openly, so honestly. You don’t have to hide it anymore because it’s no longer killing you. “I love you so very much, Grayson.”

A string of apologies fly out of his mouth, but you gently shush him. “You have nothing, and I mean nothing, to be sorry for. It’s not something either of us could’ve controlled. We both know feelings don’t work like that. They’re weird, and they creep up on you out of nowhere—but they also transform. I’m okay now.”

“You could’ve died,” he reminds you, “and it wouldn’t been my fault.”

The only thing you can do is hold him even tighter. “But I’m not dead, and it wouldn’t have been your fault. It’s no one’s fault, Dick.”

It will be a long time before he believes you, but for now, it suffices.

“We should go home soon… I wish we could stay longer, but we don’t know how long we can keep the portal open.” Dick is tugging you gently, but his face then falls at your hesitation. He keeps his arms on you to ground himself.

“Actually, Grayson, I… I think I wanna stay,” you confess.

“Stay?”

“We’ve all felt that—that calling… and I… I think it’s led me here now, Dick. I can’t just leave when these people need a new team who can protect them.”

“But you… you belong with us… with me.”

“I do, but now I belong with them too.” You glance back at the team and Bob, all watching you and Dick from the other end of the helipad. “They’re family now, my third one, I guess.”

“Nobody knows if we can get you back to our world after this.” Dick sniffles, your name so sweet and sad on his tongue. “I don’t want to never see you again…”

“I don’t either, but we’ll hold out hope, alright? If you guys could figure out getting here once, then who’s to say you can’t do it again? I mean, I’m not even the first person to come here from another world. How fucking cool is that? I’ll see you again, Dick. I know it. Don’t you?”

He stares in awe of you for a moment before nodding agreeingly. “I do.” His smile returns. “Wow, I’ve never heard you sound so… optimistic before.”

You sniffle, chuckling through your tears. “I guess I’ve changed since coming here.”

“Yeah, you have, Nightingale,” he teases you.

You let out an ungraceful snort, wiping away your tears with the back of your hand. “Birds of a feather, Nightwing.”

Bob has had almost the entire year to prepare himself for this moment, and yet he still feels like he’s going to throw up at the sight of you leaving for, probably, ever. While your spot on the team was always going to be a temporary thing, he thought that maybe… No, you wanted to go home. And now you were.

The others tried to console him while you were talking to Dick on the helipad, your best friend and the man you almost died over. The tower would feel so empty without you. Who would he cook breakfast with? You were the only one who knew how he liked his eggs. And he was pretty particular about his eggs.

And book club? How’s he supposed to do book club without the club? He thought he enjoyed reading books alone before you joined the team, but getting to talk and laugh and make fun of them with you? And there’s no way he could do it with the rest of the team. He doubts any of them even read.

Instead of disappearing off into the sunset (It was early morning.) with pretty boy Dick Grayson like he thought you would, you turn around and walk back towards them. So this was really it—goodbye.

The words run out of his mouth before he can stop them, and he blurts out a jumbling mess of syllables, “I know it’s selfish, and if you wanna go home, you should, but I don’t think I want you to go—“

Your mouth feels a little dry when you admit, “—I’m not going.”

“W-what?”

“I told Dick I was going to stay here.”

“You did?”

You nod in response. “How could I leave you guys?” Your teeth pull your lip in worry. “How could I leave you?”

“But you’ve been missing home, and I thought…”

“Yeah, I did too. I do miss it, but I’m sure I can go back, I think…” You chuckle nervously. “I hope… But I am home. Here, I mean. I guess somewhere along the line, I got attached to you idiots. And the Avengers need all the help they can get, y’know?”

Your mouth forms all the words, yet it feels like it’s still dancing around what you really should be saying. The confession rests on the very tip of your tongue, threatening to be released out into the world.

“You’re an Avenger too.”

“Yeah.” You chuckle, scratching behind your ear. “Sorry, um, I also wanna tell you… It shouldn’t be this hard. Oh, God, don’t look at me like that—I’m gonna lose my train of thought—“

Never in your life have you been kissed as fiercely or passionately as this. Bob’s mouth slots perfectly against yours, his tongue prodding and prodding until your gasp allows it entrance.

John clears his throat loudly, remarking, “Hey, you guys know we’re still here, right?”

“I don’t know if they care,” Bucky comments, trying not to stare.

“Well finally,” Yelena says, “we’ve been waiting.”

“Took you two long enough,” Ava chimes.

Alexei claps like a proud father. “Oh, this is wonderful! Nightingale is staying, and these two finally figured out they like each other!”

You bury your face into the crook of Bob’s neck, embarrassed by your affectionate display.

“I love you!” you hear Dick Grayson, your best friend in the whole world(s), shout before he does a flip back into the portal home.

“Show-off,” you remark affectionately, tutting.

It’s raining outside today, the sound of the raindrops tranquil. Mindlessly, your fingers run up the back of Bob’s neck (His whole body shivers.) and tangle themselves in soft brown locks. He walks you backwards until the back of your knees hit his bed, and you land on its soft mattress.

He leans back, warm blue eyes meeting your gaze. “This okay?”

“Okay?” you repeat, pecking around his collarbone. “This is more than okay.”

“Okay… Great. That’s great.”

Nervous chuckles escape you both as you begin to undress each other. His shirt lands somewhere on his floor for you to steal later—probably tomorrow morning. You think yours ends up draped over his TV—or maybe it’s your bra—but the way he’s kissing the tops of your breasts is really distracting you from figuring it out.

“It’s been awhile, so… I’m kinda out of practice,” you admit, embarrassed by your little confession.

He lifts his head, shaking it. “Me too. I haven’t… in awhile either.”

The pads of his fingers dance around your waist, skimming past the hem of your pants. You let out an embarrassing whimper from the slightest tap of his fingers against your clit, the only barrier between them the fabric of your underwear.

“You sound really pretty,” he whispers, nibbling on the skin of your shoulder.

A sound between a hum and a whine bubbles out of your lips. “No teasing, please. Not right now.”

His mouth leaves your neck for a split moment. “Okay, no teasing.”

Luckily for you, he means it. And in no time, he has two fingers inside you, stretching your wet cunt out. A warm tongue darts around your sensitive nerves before a pair of lips gently sucks at the flesh. Sometimes, you forget just how strong Bob is, his large hands pressing down onto your thighs to keep them spread open for him with ease. He doesn’t look that strong, but you’ve seen what he hides underneath his shirts and sweaters. A low groan tumbles out of his throat at your fingers tugging his hair, and he whimpers at your sweet, soft whines. He’s making you feel that way, and the thought excites him more than he’d like to admit.

By the time he’s made you come around his fingers and with his mouth, he’s gotten achingly hard and has been bucking his hips into the side of his mattress for any sort of relief. You tug him forward, smashing your lips against his and delight in the taste of your cum on his tongue.

“Need you,” you murmur, whining from sensitivity as Bob continues to circle your clit with his thumb.

Impatiently, you unbuckle his belt and tug down his pants and underwear together with practiced ease, waiting for him to step out of them. He quickly kicks them away before pressing himself back on top of you, eager lips finding yours again.

“You need me?” he asks between sloppy, desperate kisses.

Your teeth tug at the meat of your cheek, chewing with a shyness that he likes seeing on you. “I need you,” you repeat with a small nod.

“Alright, pretty girl. Lay down for me?”

You follow his instructions, and he thinks he could cum solely from the sight of you spread out on his bed for him. He’s already fucked his own fist more times than he can count to the thought of this. He’s praying that it’s not any figment of imagination or some cruel trick of the mind Void is playing—but then again, anything the Void shows never feels this good.

And fuck, do you feel good.

He pumps his length a few times before smearing your cum around your swollen folds to coat himself in your slick. He is already delirious with pleasure, and he hasn’t even been inside of you yet. But when Bob finally slips into you, it’s gentle, and he’s cupping your face so sweetly. You whine as he slowly bottoms out, filling you up until you’re full of him. He’s a lot but not too much, just enough.

“I’ll take care of you, okay, pretty girl?” He feels your tight walls clenching around him, and it takes so much in him not to cum then and there. Slowly, he pulls his cock out of your needy cunt just to slide it back in all the way in one swift motion. “That’s it. You can take it.”

You nod dumbly at his words, feeling your cunt continue to stretch around him. He leans down over you, pressing his warm mouth onto yours. He even tastes like you still.

There isn’t much you can do except cry out his name and hold onto him, nails digging into his back as he fucks himself into you with your legs wrapped tight around his hips—not that he minds any bit. It’s not like you can hurt him, but he’ll end up mourning the scratches you could’ve blessed him with later on. Invulnerability isn’t always a gift.

“You feel so good,” you whisper.

He inhales sharply and jokes, “You should see how you feel.”

Although you’ve been pulsing around him, you need just that little extra push before you can cum. Without much thought—How can you have any when you’re getting fucked like this?—your hand somehow snakes between your bodies, finding your clit with ease.

“Oh, fuck…” he drawls out as you manage to get even tighter around his cock. How was that possible?

Your second release hits you before you can even get the words to come out, your cries filling the room. He realized soon after he got his powers that his stamina never really changed unless he was using his abilities for awhile. And fucking you wasn’t really a superpower—though you are inclined to disagree. Well, it meant that he could continue to thrust into you, drawing out your pleasure until you’re shaking from overstimulation.

Through the haze of probably the best orgasm you’ve ever been given in your life, you vaguely make out his question and answer, “I-inside’s okay.”

After making sure again, Bob finally cums with a last few bucks of his hips, a new delicious warmth filling you inside. Without pulling out, he collapses on top of you, careful not to suffocate you. The mixture of your cum is probably all over his sheets anyway, but you think maybe he just wants to be inside you a little longer.

It nearly makes you cringe, how heavily you’re panting right now—it’s the only thing you can hear. The thought quickly disappears when you feel him place a gentle kiss onto your mouth.

“You okay?”

You’re too fucked out to make any words leave your mouth, so you manage with a little hum.

“I wasn’t too rough with you, was I?” There’s a hint of insecurity that you can detect in his soft, hesitant tone.

Shaking your head adamantly, you can do. You play with his hair while you try to find your voice again. “I wouldn’t let you be rough with me if I didn’t like it,” you whisper, gently pressing your finger into his cheek. “And if you couldn’t tell, I really liked it.”

You also like the smile that makes its way onto his face. It’s a wonder that a man who could do all of that to you could still be blushing crimson at your words right after.

Leaning forward, he nuzzles his nose against yours and asks quietly, “You seriously wanna stay here?”

“Yes, Bob the Builder. I wanna stay here. On this Earth. With you.”

“I’m really glad,” he murmurs against your mouth, an honesty in his words you’ve come to appreciate greatly.

You sing-song a familiar cartoon tune, “Can we stay here?”

Bob snorts, answering, “Yes, we can!”

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” You’re standing next to Bob in your suit, a reassuring expression on your face. “It’s seriously not a big deal, I already do this with Yelena all the time—“

“No, no,” Bob says quickly, waving you off. His bright blue eyes keep darting between you and what’s waiting below off the edge of the building. “I wanna do this.”

“No offense, dude, but you look terrified.”

He nods. “Well, that’s great, because I am.”

You sigh, taking his hand in yours. “And I said you don’t have to. I already appreciate you considering it.”

“I want to,” he tells you with full honesty. “I do. I wanna know if it’s like how you described.”

“Even though you’re scared and squeezing my hand like you aren’t a perfectly safe distance from the edge?”

“Yes.”

You give him your brightest grin. “Just don’t pass out on me, alright? I don’t have super strength, and I will get Alexei to carry you back to the tower by himself.”

[visenyaism]

Dunk and Egg Harrenhal Halloween Episode. and scene. Egg tries to swim to the isle of faces and has to get fished out by a pretty fisherman’s daughter because Dunk can’t remember if he knows how to swim. Comes out with a cool rock that Dunk immediately throws back into the God’s Eye, threatening to clout him on the ear. He does not clout Egg on the ear. An old old man tells Dunk he dreamed of him, and that his dreams come true because his mother was a witch and that he should watch out because he dreamed of a big bat descending on him to kill. Recurring bit where Dunk is about to eat whatever people meat pie the Lothstons are serving up but keeps getting interrupted. An old woman Egg meets once who no one else can corroborate the existence of tells him there’s a dragon egg in the basement. He gets lost looking for it and only gives up when the walls start screaming at him. Dunk and some rivermen are getting paid to shore up the inner walls but it takes forever because people keep disappearing. Eventually they accidentally break into a sealed-off room filled with gnarled, burnt-out skeletons. No one can recall when they’re from. Danelle Lothston notices that Duncan the tall is tall, gives him some of the good wine, and is like come over for dinner tomorrow ;) Dunk gets spiked with the crazy blood potion and there’s a freaky weirwood dream sequence involving no fewer than 2 summerhall foreshadowings and 3 bear and the maiden fair references. Danelle Lothston is fixing to eat Dunk the next day but right as she’s about to get him alone Egg comes out like SER DUNCAN I SAW A GHOST. It looked like a WOMAN COVERED IN BLOOD she was wandering the halls near the dungeons and the kitchen. Dunk threatens to clout him on the ear because that’s not real. Lady Lothston is like actually look at the time I’ve got to go and it looks like you do, too. Dunk gets smacked in the head by a bat he didn’t see nesting in the hallway and thinks it’s a ghost for a second. Egg laughs at him. Dunk threatens to clout him on the ear. He does not clout Egg on the ear. Punchline at the end where on their way out Dunk finally gets to eat dinner and is wow like the high lords have everything and yet they’re also serving the same kind of pork that we eat in flea bottom. Queer.

[itslifetreesworld]

So I've been having this idea of doing one of my favorite looks of Ethan and Benji across the M: I series! Obviously Benji joined in mi3 so I put the first two Ethans together to jump start everything. I hope to do each one every day so stay tuned!

I will also write something explaining why I picked that particular costume/look, with screenshot references and anything I found interesting during the process, so if you are interested in some ramblings here we go:

Mission: Impossible

I know everyone thinks of the Langley suit when talking about the first M: I movie (so am I). I'm not saying it's overrated because it's not, but I do think maybe that's too much of a cliche if I also pick that? So the other day I watched a video essay discussing the evolving of costumes in movies and they mentioned this grey striped suit with blue shirt and a blue tie in M: I and I just thought, damn, that's a really nice suit:

It was the suit Ethan wore when he met with Max. It's a bit of a shame that Ethan slowly turns to a very utilitarian all-black-and-leather choice of clothing and does not really wear anything like this anymore.

Plus, I think it is one of the very few times where Ethan wears a long coat (the only other appearance actually being in FR? Correct me if I'm wrong)

Mission: Impossible 2

Ok so the thing is, I don't remember a lot from mi2 ... (would you blame me thou) so when I watched it again trying to pick a favorite look, what I realized is that... (Spoiler alert if you haven't seen mi2 which is from,,,literally 25 years ago)

...that a lot of my favorites are actually the villains in Ethan's mask!?!? I find it very funny but then it would not be fair to do that, maybe I can do that as a bonus one after everything? Anyway eventually I picked Ethan in this grey-ish blue shirt with a vest:

I think this was technically still part of the disguise of Nekhovich, but it was pretty cute (and I'm running out of options)

My favorite part of this look is actually the disheveled hair due to the removal of the mask, and it's also super fun to draw :D

Mission: Impossible 3 (finally)

My first choice of Ethan's look in mi3 is actually the one with the brown suede jacket, which is also the one with the most screen time (I think?)

The second one that came into my mind is the tactical suit during the mission to rescue Lindsey, which is also something l like a lot but never really reappeared on screen:

(btw do you know how hard it is to find anything that's neither pitch black nor blurry while showing the suit during this sequence, this is the best I can do)

But as I put them next to Benji...none of them feels right!? At that point I realized I had no other choice than this aforementioned all-black T-shirt and jeans combo when he called Benji in Shanghai.

I am not complaining about anything, the beaten-up Ethan and the blood are all part of the look and they are VERY GOOD (I mean to draw).

Speaking of Benji, before doing this, I genuinely thought he only had one costume, the one when he's rambling about the rabbit's foot:

But the one when Ethan called him is actually slightly different! I think it was the same blue jacket that gave me the impression of only one costume:

Anyway, I actually preferred the rabbit's foot one, but again for pairing him with Ethan I went with the second one.

Btw I cannot find anything about what pants Benji wears in the movie, so I had to make something up. Judging from the dress code of the IMF at that time, I guess it was probably also something dark or black, colorless, and probably not really Benji's choice of clothing.

Another thing I realized from this is that Benji in his pre-field agent days might be quite sensitive to the cold? In both of the IMF office scenes, he wore at least 4 layers and he kept his jacket on, in comparison Ethan only wears a light sweater while Luther is wearing a sweater and a jacket, no one else in the IMF seems to wear as much as Benji did:

It was probably just part of the character building, to have this kind of geeky-nerdy look? He doesn't seem to wear particularly more than others in the following series.

Anyway that's all of my ramblings for my fav looks in mi1-3! If you made it this far, thank you so much for reading, and looking forward to seeing you again maybe tomorrow ;)

Quick link to:

Ghost Protocol

Rouge Nation

[mirroredmemoriez]

A collection of Amanda Young’s outfits (PT 1)

As the title states, this is just all the outfits I can source from Amanda Young from the franchise but also any game adaptation too. This will be broken into parts because of the image limit.

1.) The Reverse Bear Trap (RBT) outfit

One of her most iconic and recognisable fits. She has a purple tank top with matching sleeves to go alongside, presumably kept in place by the pink bands on her upper arms? Amanda in this wears a black skirt with ripped fish nets and kinda shiny boots- Other things include the eye makeup, nail polish and the only time we ever see her have the clawing panther tattoo on her shoulder.

2.) Rockstar outfit

I've generalised this as the ROCKSTAR outfit- Because this specific shirt comes up a few times, not just in that cut scene. It seems there is actually two shirts? The blue graphic one on top and a grey one underneath. Amanda's hair and jackets change! There is the light grey jacket and then the black one and even things like how heavy her makeup is are different... The main place we see this look is when she is setting up Adam for his game. Of course she has boots on as always and I guess I'd call the jeans she has on cuffed? One extra is she has a watch on.

3.) Junkie outfit

BECAUSE I WAS A FUCKING JUNKIE!!! Anyway, with this I had to brighten the image to see what the design on the tank top was... From there I went, ''I think I've seen this before...'' And yeah, I had- Shawnee Smith has worn this logo a few times, so that's why I've added the last two images for a clearer reference. Amanda here looks quite gaunt and sickly and we can't see the rest of this outfit such as trousers.

4.) Visitor outfit

I'll dub this the Visitor outfit because of the badge of course- I would say this likely is Amanda's most simple outfit? Black shirt and skirt. The most striking thing about this look is the RBT scars she has... It's also one of the only times outside of Saw 3 we see Amanda with a ponytail! I can't lie when looking at her hair here, it almost looks two toned in places such as the side burns? Almost grey in parts? (Edit: This may be a dress actually.)

5.) The Red Pig outfit

This is my personal favourite when it comes to her in movie pig looks. She has a red coat/cloak which the length goes all the way down to her boots- Looking there I think the lower half from seeing the cuffed like jeans is probably the exact same as her Rockstar outfit. Her eye makeup is heavily smudged and the mask itself in my opinion is one of the best shaped pig masks, with what seems to be ''blood'' coming out of the eye sockets and black slash brunette hair.

6.) Bow Dress/Clinic outfit

This scene and the follow up is so depressing but she's so cutesy here- It's a simple black dress, but the bow is very Amanda. I have no clue whether the shoes she has on in the first image are actually apart of the outfit or just something Shawnee had on whilst testing it out. 7.) News Report/Scott Tibbs outfit

May be my overall favourite Amanda outfit.... She has on a grey hoodie jacket, possibly another article of clothing from her Rockstar outfit? Her iconic skull sweatpants with a belt and then boots that I would say are more akin to her RBT outfit. I can't really tell if the shirt she has got on is layers or just has different materials- Amanda's RBT scars are also very visible in this look.

8.) Suffocation outfit

At first I started doing these as two separate outfits? One for when she kills Adam, the other for when she wakes up from her nightmare- However, I'm pretty sure this is the same outfit through and through. Amanda has on a long sleeved orange shirt with a grey tanktop over it. The jacket is leather with noticeable silver studs and she has on cargo type trousers and as always... Boots.

9.) Nightmare outfit

Another personal favourite! Once again we get to see the skull pants and this is how I was able to gage the material a bit better. I honestly have no clue how to describe the specific items of clothing she has on her upper half? A corset type shirt going on? Details I enjoy are the safety pins around the shoulder and bottom half and she has a watch on.

10.) Saw X outfit

I decided to not have this pig look separate. Anyway! This is Amanda's most recent outfit with Saw X having come out in 2023.... Simple grey t-shirt alongside cargo trousers with a belt. The boots she's got on are very combat/work like and Amanda also has a black choker and earrings here- Her coat/cloak is black with red detailing such as the cuffs and the inner lining.

[gremlingottoosilly]

Married!reader who's husband's abandoned them and skipped town after borrowing money from Mafia!König

You thought your husband’s love for you was more than his love for money - and you were deadly wrong. Poor, abandoned little thing you are - Konig almost feels pity for you, with the way you were still clinging to her hope that he will come back for you and together, you’ll go about your merry way…of course, life sucks and it’s not what is happening here. Of course, your loser of a husband never knew that the biggest asset he could ever introduce to then debt collectors is his smoking hot beauty of a wife - and you never thought that he will actually abandon you here. Now, standing in your small kitchen, still wearing your adorable pink apron and ring held on a gunpoint by the most notorious cutthroats of the city, you know better. Horangi is the most ell known hitman of KorTac, and he knows the tastes of his boss more than anyone else - maybe, this is why you weren’t just held for ransom in hopes that your husband will come back, but was pushed deeper, held as a pretty toy for the boss. Not that you knew this at the moment.

Konig introduces you to a very few options. You can refuse to be his little bird, throw away all of his good will intentions and be a little bitch - so he wouldn’t feel too bad about killing you. Or, preferably, you can ask him to be soft with you, you can plead him for forgiveness for you and your husband - and he will take you as collateral instead of just fucking and killing you afterwards. You’re a good girl, so, of course, you plead him to be gentle. God, he just doers the sight of you on your knees, your house dress is making the scene look all the more domestic and, dare he say, adorable. He can’t help himself - he kisses you, kisses you like there is no tomorrow, and he is acting like it’s no big deal, either. He gets you up on his lap and this is your earned placed from now on - even when he is busy with meetings and talking to very, very evil people, he will keep you with him as if little lucky charm. Grasping your thigh and laying with the soft flesh every time you wince at the blood or a rude word being thrown around the room. You’re from a good family, after all, you aren’t used to the harsh ways of this business. Good girls are hiding their faces in their husband’s chests as their husband kill the traitors with a soft, tiny promise of doing the same with you if you to ever disobey him. But you’re a smart cookie, so you try your best to forget that this is even happening. You put a smile on your face and act all lovingly and gentle even with his crooks and thugs - they all adore you, always knowing the difference between common whores that boss occasionally has, and you, his prettiest girl.

You would sit beside him in clubs, too - he drags you out with him, mostly to turn down the girls who are chasing him like little fireflies, and also because he wants to have you available for a quick fuck while he is being served drinks. He wants all of you with him on a silver platter - even if for the first few times you are together, he had to press his gun against your temple and threaten to pull the trigger if you won’t be his good girl. You learned to suck him off just right while he is discussing the fate of your husband with you. You learn to just nod to whatever torture he is proposing to your poor hubby and smile when he pets your head and says that he will keep you with him - not just as a collateral anymore, but as a girl that rightfully belongs to him. You don’t want to be referred to as his girl - it there is really isn’t much of a choice. You’re other his girl, receiving expensive gifts and money for just being with him, or you are a wife of a man who has a debt to him - so, you’re a liability, a hostage, a prisoner. At least now, you can pretend to be an actual wife instead of, well…whatever you are, really. Konig bought you a ring and talks about the wedding, but you know it’s just a bluff. You hope it’s just a bluff.

[reidrum]

good night moon | s.r

A/N: hi again ! this one is deeply self indulgent i fear but who cares i hope you like it as much as i do <3 ps let me know what kinda fics i should write next !!

cw: spencer reid x bau!reader, cm type violence, reader is afab but this only is referred to when mentioning reader is a daughter, sad thoughts, hurt/comfort, talks about nightmares, spencer just wants to take care you gdm it why won’t you let him

wc: 2.4k

_______________________________________________

trudging up the stairs of the bullpen, you tried your best to use whatever sense you had left to beeline to the kitchen to make another cup of coffee. thank god the bau had minimal reflective surfaces because you’re sure you look like the evil old lady from snow white. that was just, your opinion of course. to everyone else you looked fine.

fine was so subjective. what did these fuckers know about being fine? they weren’t the ones on the mission. they don’t know what you saw, how you did nothing, how you couldn’t do anything.

“FBI hands up!” you yell holding your gun and flashlight at the unsub. he’s holding the victim at knifepoint, a twelve year old girl who reminded you too much of yourself.

this unsub’s MO was kidnapping eldest daughters of families that had sons as well, because he believed the son should be the eldest child with the most responsibility and that the daughters were only there to create more babies. the team had deduced that he was the youngest child to an older sister who he felt had too much control over him, combined with his fascination with the perfect nuclear family, it slowly turned him into a sociopathic killer.

“come any closer and i’ll slit her throat!” the unsub bellowed, getting dangerously close to her carotid artery.

“you don’t wanna do that, man,” derek says behind you, “just put the knife down and we can talk.”

“there’s nothing left to talk anymore! i’m already going to prison. there’s no point.”

you called out the unsub’s name, “i know how you’re feeling, i have a younger brother too and he feels the same way you do sometimes. what your sister did to you was not okay, but not all sisters are like that. we just want to care for our family. let them have the chance to be the big sister you wished for.”

the unsub seemed to contemplate your words for a minute, then looks up at you with eyes devoid of any light, “then this one is dedicated to you, agent.” and he drags the knife across her neck leaving waterfalls of blood coming out.

you’re not really sure what happened next. a gun went off, presumably derek’s, to kill the unsub. and then it was you screaming as you rushed to the young girl to try and stop her bleeding, but it was no use. the cut was deep enough to nick that damn carotid and all you could do was hold her in her last moments.

“te- tell my family i love them, and that i’m sorry.” the young girl spurts out so softly you almost didn’t hear it.

“no sweet girl, don’t be sorry,” you say through hiccuped cries, “i’m sorry i couldn’t save you.”

the last thing you remember was feeling strong hands carrying you out of the building. you couldn’t hear much, the sound of your wails pretty much masked anything in a five mile radius. you could taste the iron lingering in your mouth from biting your lip too hard and desperately collecting the salty tears and sweat trickling down your face. at first you smelled smoke and dust, most likely from being in the cave where the unsub was. but as you were being dragged away from the crime scene you were influxxed with a musky scent, and a hint of vanilla with that fresh laundry smell. spencer. the last thing you see are his worried little brown eyes staring down at you before everything goes dark.

that was monday. it is now thursday. the case had wrapped up, the unsub was dead the families were notified and now you all were in the office doing your paperwork for the case.

and all of you were doing fine, right? everyone else had already coped and processed the case, already stepping back into their normal life routines. but you, you couldn’t have it that easy, but god you wish you did.

since that day, you’d been holing up in your apartment with all the lights turned on. you sat in your living room, eating a bowl of fruit loops and watching bluey, because listen it’s a great show and we should acknowledge it. you cry out loud seeing bluey care for her little sister bingo, and it brings you back to that dusty cave and the bloodied hands.

you could feel sleep creeping up on you, yet you subconsciously found a way to push bedtime by doing menial tasks like cleaning, extra long skincare, watching a movie. when you ran out of things to do, you entered your room and just stared at your bed. how were you supposed to admit to yourself that the horror isn’t in the movie you just watched where the creepy demons kill everyone, but it’s what is waiting for you behind closed eyelids.

so the only logical solution was to just, not sleep. you whipped out every trick in the book to stay awake for as long as you could— energy drinks, coffee, splashing cold water, anything so you wouldn’t have to reface your plagued memories.

spencer observed you from a distance. he watched as you got coffee a whopping three times before 10am, you picking at your skin, not to mention the bags growing under your eyes. it was then he formed a hypothesis, he was a scientist after all. that you simply were not sleeping because of the case. it was much less a hypothesis and more of a fact because he knew exactly what it was upon first sight of you, hell he invented the sleep avoidance look.

and as the inventor it meant he knew the feeling more intimately than he would like to admit. spencer knew what it felt like to be debilitated by the confines of your brain, holding onto shreds of memories you know are not worth remembering but have somehow marked their territory anyway. and everyone coped differently, for spencer he isolated himself for days and then threw himself into work. for you? well, that was the next part of spencer’s experiment.

spencer approaches you in the kitchen as you’re pouring your fourth cup before noon, “hi.”

“hi.”

“how are you? feels like we haven’t talked in a bit.”

“i’m good, sorry i’ve just been. busy.”

spencer frowned internally, he knew you weren’t doing a single thing but working at the office. “are you okay? do you want to talk about last week?”

you cut him off abruptly and start walking out, “i really have to finish these reports spence, talk to you later.”

spencer knew better, he should give you space to cope by yourself. you were an adult, you can take care of yourself. but you shouldn’t have to, he thinks. spencer still tells himself he knows better as he’s waiting on your doorstep that night, about to the rapp the door.

after a minute of no answer he knocks again this time calling your name through the door, “will you let me in please? i want to show you something.”

still nothing. he continues, “i know what you’re feeling, and i want to help, please.”

he almost gives up and turns around when he hears the turn of a lock and slight creek of the door opening to see you in all your beautiful glory.

now you, you were definitely a sight for sore eyes. avengers pj shorts with a baggy uni t shirt, hair flying in any direction, and a look that spencer could only describe as grief. but god if you weren’t the most beautiful human he’d seen in his life, he’d be lying.

you were coming up on day 3? or was it 4? of no sleep. it’s not like you were not sleeping at all you took little 30 minute naps each day, enough to get you some shut eye but not enough to make it your rem stage of sleep.

spencer speaks again, “can i come in?” you nod silently and open the door wider for him to step in. he removes his shoes and it’s then you notice a big ole tote bag he’s lugging to your living room.

“what’s in the bag?”

“ah, come sit. i brought magical things.” he smiles playfully.

you shuffle over to sit a seat’s cushion away from him and watch as he starts pulling item by item from his mary poppins bag.

candles, essential oils, books, but specifically romance novels with the silly cartoon covers that he swears aren’t real books but you argue with him until he concedes, melatonin gummies, pillow sleep spray, and one more item that he’s holding onto for what seems to be dramatic effect. you’re not amused.

“and the piece de resistance,” he presents the last item, and you look confused for a second, until you recognize the item in front of you and immediately start tearing up. in his hands is a grogu weighted stuffed animal that he holds out for you to take. “i know you’re not sleeping. it happened to me when, you know. i figured it would be helpful if you had someone who could empathize how you’re feeling. and because you’re my best friend and i care about you.”

your bottom lip trembles, and you feel the ice block you’ve kept yourself in this past week start to melt uncontrollably. “spence…” you breathe out so quietly. he did all this? for you? doctor spencer reid went out to the store, and bought a grogu stuffed animal for you to cuddle at night to ease your loneliness?

the concept of being taken care of was so foreign to you, as the eldest daughter in your family it was always you taking care of others and making sure everyone was okay. but rarely did anyone check on you, how you were holding up. and you had learned to cope by yourself, to handle the big emotions by yourself, but for once, someone was willing to take all that weight off your shoulders and let you breathe. and god, did it feel so cathartic you could burst out in sobs.

so you did.

“hey,” he says scooting closer to you so he can scoop you into his chest, “was that a lot? penelope said i’d probably overwhelm you but all of the things i brought are scientifically proven sleep additives-“

“no i just, that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.” you whimper.

spencer’s eyes soften, “you deserve it. what happened last week… was hard. i just wanted to help.”

“thank you,” he hears a muffled response and rubs his hands affectionately down your back, “damn, all this crying is making me so tired.”

“see! the magic of the poppins bag.” he chuckles. you laugh too. spencer thinks all the flowers in a mile radius just bloomed.

“it’s just,” you start out, nuzzling into his chest deeper, “the second i close my eyes and dream, i see her. and how i couldn’t save her. and how the others i couldn’t save either.” you feel your chest seizing up again.

“okay well hey, hey. you did what you were trained to do. any other agent in your position would’ve tried talking him down the way you did. and your personal story gave you an advantage that no one else would’ve had. statistically speaking, you were the best chance at getting through to him. yeah it didn’t work, but it wouldn’t be probability if it always worked,” he cradles your face in his big hands, “we’re all so proud of you, you know. rossi’s waiting for you to be back on your feet so he can host pasta night at his hou- sorry his mansion again.”

spencer looks down at you properly to your tear stained cheeks and brushes your hair back. he sees the pain and tiredness fighting behind your eyes and asks softly, “what do you need right now?”

“i’m tired.” you lament.

“then lets go sleep.”

“i can’t.”

“why not?”

“im scared.”

“well that’s why i brought the stuff silly goose,” he taps your nose, “come on, let’s go set it up.”

spencer brings all the sleep aids to your room and sets them up appropriately, even plugging in your sunrise lamp to help with the ambient lighting. the only thing left to do is for you to get into your bed.

you both stand on opposite sides of your bed, and he’s waiting for you to get in so can tuck you in. you hesitate and look up at him with the same worried eyes he saw all those days ago.

“could you stay for bit?”

“i can stay for some time if you want” you both speak at the same time. you giggle again, spencer thinks an angel got its wings.

thank god he wore sweats and a comfy t shirt he thinks. he slid in under the blanket and holds it open for you to come in, “come on, you’re missing the cuddle party with grogu and i!” you beam widely and finally sink into your bed.

spencer pulls you into his chest, wrapping an arm around your shoulder blade, and the other taking a spot on your hip rubbing soft circles. you lay your head to rest on his chest, right above his beating heart. you try to let the metronomic thumps lull you to sleep, but spencer can still feel your eyelashes fluttering about on his chest. he knows what you’re thinking, because of course he does.

“look at me,” he nudges you, you look up at his eyes again and see nothing but pure love and reassurance as he continues, “you are safe. nothing can hurt you. i promise.”

“are you sure?” you let out meekly,

“i’m sure. it’s okay, go to sleep,” he presses a gentle kiss to the crown of your forehead. “i’ll be here when you wake up.”

you shakily take a deep breath, and close your eyes.

after five minutes of spencer rubbing shapes into your back, he can finally hear the soft snores coming from below. he places another kiss on your head, whispers, “good night angel girl,” and doses off.

you wake up the next morning feeling so rested and relieved you can’t help but give spencer a big hug that wakes him up. spencer thinks he’d be the luckiest man in the universe if he could wake up like this everyday.

[mychapel-004]

FNAF SPOILERS! SCROLL! TALKING ABOUT THE SPRINGLOCK SCENE!

i’ve seen so many people discussing the springlock scene in both negative and positive ways and i think it brings up really cool points about how matthew played that scene and balanced fan expectations with his own characterisation.

i think the discussions around this movie have rlly exposed the disconnect between fanon and canon in fnaf, especially talking abt the core games in isolation, bc frankly in the game universe (ignoring the books) we get Very Little characterisation for William other than the obvious, but Matthew managed to add so much in the way he talks and his body language.

in the reveal scene, we see afton at arguably his peak. in his first scene, he comes off as somewhat demeaning and judgemental until he recognises mike’s name, at which point he seems to have this nervous energy, rushing to cover it up but stumbling slightly, his reaction to the tables being turned even slightly is massive.

this is a man who committed multiple mrdrs in essentially broad daylight, hid the bodies in the most obvious place, and still got away with it, and then kept the crime scene as a trophy of his actions, and an ongoing prison sentence for his victims. he has been in complete control for decades, and is confident that he can deal with any kind of threat quickly. his confidence in his reveal is palpable

it changes when vanessa shoots him. the whole parallel with vanessa and the animatronics is hugely interesting too- how william refers to the animatronics almost endearingly as “kids” when he wants them to obey, how both vanny and the animatronics have an unearned loyalty to him, almost a pseudo-adoption through what he did to them, taking them from their parents and keeping them under his thumb, forever stuck as naive, forgiving, obedient children. vanessa breaking from that control shakes him, but the mask slips back into place almost immediately.

then, he’s outsmarted by the brother of one of his victims, and the child he planned to end next. his pseudo-children turn on him and he can no longer manipulate his appearance or shed his skin to escape. he explodes on them, and his language is incredibly telling that he is being dishonest.

he calls them small, trying to belittle them into submission, even though they are ten feet tall metal animatronics powered by rage. he is grasping at straws to regain control, and failing miserably.

finally, the springlocks go off. the locks in the movie look more like a ribcage, so the first two likely puncture his lungs. they’re slow, and painful, but he doesn’t scream or beg or sob. he grunts and groans, gritting his teeth and only letting out sounds of pain that sound almost involuntary. there is no way in hell he would visibly let himself show weakness or pain in front of these creatures that he believes he has control over. he isn’t brought to his knees until there are eight metal spikes embedded in his abdomen. he doesn’t let the mask fall for even a second, until he literally PUTS THE ACTUAL MASK ON and finally collapses. even then, he’s fighting for consciousness, twitching and writhing with no control over his body. william afton thrives on control, and his soul will not rest until he gets it back.

it’s why he keeps the pizzeria- he always comes back. he can’t help but return to the scene of the crime, putting on his old costume, continuing his killings. he revels in being a constant threat on the horizon. and now, he knows he is going to die, and he knows the suit will bring him back, and noone will be able to get rid of him then. so he puts the mask back on, and waits.

in terms of the sfx- they’re pretty accurate. with stab wounds, you need to leave the knife in the wound as long as possible for best chance of survival, as it stops the blood from escaping. in terms of the springlocks, there wouldn’t be copious amounts of blood as the locks are keeping the wounds filled- which is good because it means a slower, more painful death.

[hybridirl]

so pretty.

18+ only, please!

abby x f!reader

a/n: hi everyone!! i’m sorry that this is an abby fic cuz i’ve been getting ellie reqs!! so i’m sorry if i disappoint but i rlly needed to scratch this itch

brief summary: your dad’s co-worker is sooo cute! you hadn’t seen her in so long! tonight, a dinner is happening with his team! you just have to hurry up and get dressed, because she just caught you nakeyyyy.

tw / worship, age gap (it’s not pronounced), pet names, praise, pure smut(?), cunnilingus, cheating, slight mommy kink, rushed sex, reader gets referred to as “daddy’s little girl,” use of y/n, AU

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you let out a quick sigh as you tugged your dress up, slipping your shoulders into the straps and taking a glance at your clock.

fuck, you thought to yourself, dad’s gonna be pissed. you were late downstairs for a very important dinner your dad was hosting! this was your first ever dinner you’ve been invited - no, well, forced to go to. all the other times, your whole time growing up, they’ve been at restaurants which your dad told you you couldn’t go to. well, now they’re here. and now you have to make a good impression and have spectacular manners for these people. uh oh.

you looked at your outfit, a tight-fitted, wine red dress. it was appropriate enough, but it was definitely showing your body off. you didn’t have time to change, though, so, a quick spray of your dior perfume would be your final touch. spritz, spritz, and you’re hurriedly rushing down the steps. you don’t have to peek around the corner to know who’s there: your dad, isaac, manny, owen, mel and… was that abby? you gulped. you hadn’t seen abby in so long, yet she’d been on your mind all that time. suddenly you were self conscious, adjusting your dress and adjusting your hair if you could. you peeked around the corner, and almost squeaked at the sight. she was there. she wore a skin-tight, long-sleeve dress.

why are you covering up those pretty arms? was the first thing you thought. those arms had kept you up at night as you fantasized about them holding you, worshiping you, and vice versa for you. your cheeks were heated, flushed with blood as you became entranced by her body. your eyes trailed down to take in the rest of her, her muscular back, legs, stomach. oh, god. you might have to go back to your room.

“y/n!” your dad called, making your head perk up and the rest of his team turn to look at you. they greeted you with friendly faces, having not scene “daddy’s little girl,” as your dad would say, in a hot minute. you stood up straight, giving a stiff wave as you rushed to go sit down by your dad’s side.

everyone was staring at you. you couldn’t tell if it was the dress, or that they hadn’t seen you. you tried your damndest to never even glance at abby and you did pretty well, barely even uttering a word to her whilst you talked pretty chattily to the rest. yes, that probably hurt her feelings, but your sanity was slightly more important.

you continued to eat, your mind now focused.

“so, y/n,” abby called whilst the others chatted, “how’s school going?” you glanced up, giving an awkward smile as you swallowed your food.

“it’s, uh, going,” you replied with heated cheeks. “it’s going.” she smirked a knowing smile and brought her hand to yours. your gaze didn’t falter as it continued it’s strenuous stare at her face. you tried to hide a growing grin,

“you can always ask me for help,” she offered, “i’m pretty good at math, y’know.” you felt your lips twitching to a small smile and you nodded.

“yeah,” you said with a nod, pulling your hand away slowly. “thanks, mrs. anderson.” she gave you a small smile, her eyes so briefly flickering downward to your chest that you hadn’t noticed.

the night went on, slowly coming to an end while you dismissed yourself upstairs. it was late and you had things to do tomorrow. a quick shower was what you needed while you hurried to the bathroom. everyone had left except for a few stragglers, who you had assumed were going to leave pretty soon.

you quietly entered the bathroom and shut the door behind you. you stepped toward the mirror, giving a lopsided smile at your slightly disheveled state. you slipped out of your dress then stepped out the pool of your cloth. you stepped toward the bath, running it whilst you plugged the drain. you sat on the tub, taking off your shoes and socks to flex your feet.

you jumped, hearing a crack of lightning outside the window.

jesus, you thought. you didn’t realize the fan would be so bad. you groaned silently, turning the water off and pulling the plug on the drain. you were slipping back into your dress, the straps just above your waist before the door swings open. you yelped, covering your chest quickly.

“i didn’t know,” the smooth voice stated. your jaw was slack, staring abby in. “sorry.” but she didn’t turn away. her eyes flickered down to your chest, taking in what she could see. “…sorry,” she said once more before beginning to turn away. you didn’t know she was still here, you thought she’d left.

“well, wait,” you called before you could realize what you were doing. her gaze fell back on you, her brows raised. “i… um…” you felt your arms begin to relax, and your eyes widened as they fell to your sides, uncensoring your body for her.

“y/n,” she breathed. “your dad’s downstairs. so’s owen.” you both gazed at each other as a silence emerged. your eyes flicked down her body, especially the muscles that covered her arms.

“…i don’t care,” you spoke softly. you watched her slowly shut the door behind her as she entered. doe-eyed, you watched her approach you. she took a hold of the dress that hung around your waist, pulling it so you were close.

“daddy’s little girl ain’t so little anymore, huh?” your eyelids fluttered, gasping as her lips touched your neck. you hummed a “no” in response and your hand gripped her braid, tugging it as she bite into your neck. she let out a groan at your hair-tugs, which only fueled you. “mm, the boys would be so upset, huh? but, look how pretty you are. how’s a woman like me gonna resist a pretty girl like you?” she paused to pull away from you, “…can i touch you?” you nodded your head and her huge hands went to massage your breasts, eliciting a moan from your lips. “shhh. don’t get loud, baby, don’t get loud. just let mama touch your body.” they moved from your breasts and down to your sides and she spoke once more, “can i pull your dress down, baby girl?” you nodded, and the dress with down, down, down. her hands cupped your ass as you stood and she kneeled. “look at that,” she sighed and kissed your naval. “spread your legs for me, sweet thing, let me take a look at you.” you adjusted, spreading your legs just a tad to let her get a view of your inner lips, wet and needy.

“abby,” you huffed, slightly impatient. she smirked and squeezed your butt hard. you whined, writhing slightly.

“hush up,” she demanded lowly, kissing down your stomach. she sighed as she inhaled your scent, nostrils flaring. “mm, fuck you smell good.” your cheeks heated with embarrassment and your hand went for her hair again, pulling her closer to your throbbing pussy. “so impatient, sweetheart. you’re lucky the boys are downstairs… if they weren’t, i’d be bending you over my knee. god, look at this body…” her hands trailed back up your sides, squeezing your breasts once more. you could feel yourself drip as she began to kiss your thighs. “oh, baby,” she groaned into your thigh, bringing her hands back down. she licked right to your vulva, leaving a trail of saliva on your thighs. “should i tongue this needy pussy?”

“yes,” you gasped, nudging your hips forward. “abby, please.” you’d been waiting for this for so long, you needed her rough tongue on you. she leaned in to give your cunt a sloppy kiss, gently sucking on your clit. you hunched over, pulling her head closer to you. her hands grabbed your ass as she began to lick at you. “abby.” she smiled into your pussy while her tongue flicked against your clit, then dipped into you. “fuck…” she guided your hips along her tongue, each time her tongue found your sensitive little bud, curving right at the end to give you so much pleasure.

“it’s alright, baby, ride mama’s tongue,” she said quickly, opening her mouth wide for you. you obliged, hurriedly running yourself along her tongue.

“abby, abby,” you whined, gripping her hair to pump her head. she kept staring at you, her blue eyes boring into yours. “a-abby.” her hands soothingly ran up and down your thighs and her mouth closed slightly, suckling back onto your clit. “please!” you whimpered, the grip on her hair tightening. she groaned, the vibrations hitting your pussy so perfectly.

“shh.” she kissed your clit a few times before her fingers slipped into you. your jaw fell open and your head tilted back. you moaned her name quietly, heavy breaths filling the air. you could feel yourself, how close you were.

“please let me cum on your tongue,” you pleaded, your eyes locked on hers. she chuckled into your cunt, nodding whilst slurping up your juices. your legs trembled as you approached the edge of your orgasm. whimpers left your throat before you bit your lip, coming undone right on her tongue. she eagerly licked your nectar up, your hips rocking and grinding.

eventually coming down, you slowly pushed her head away. her face was drenched with your essence, a smug smile plastered on her face.

“that good, sweetheart?” she asked with a small kiss on your thigh. you nodded slowly, your breath heavy.

“yes,” you managed to say between labored breaths.

“let’s hope the boys didn’t hear, huh?” she stood up and guided your dress back on before speaking once more, “we’ll be doing this again.”

you bit back a smirk.