#she has so much power and doesn't get to use it enough

[noxspost]

Vi and power often into trouble and silco was often The one to bail them out of trouble, the best he can and no questions asked because he knew vander was gonna be a lot harder on them than silco will be.

Vander's disappointment when his kids get in trouble is far worse. Vi feels a lot of pressure living up to being vander's child and she doesn't feel that much pressure on her when she's with silco so she often goes to him for help.

Vi still often feels the need to hoard money from random jobs and from the pit fights, but also save food and give more to her siblings being powder Mylo claggor And echoes well and so oftentimes. She will go hungry.

Silco knows this but since she doesn't want to embarrass why he keeps it under route though he is getting worried.

He may not act like it, but he hates to see his daughter coming home after pit fight not even trying to take care of her injuries before she got home. It hurts his heart because he'd promise to their mother he would take care of both girls.

Sometimes Vi will just sit next to silco, as he's grumbling and writing down in his journal or just dis associating both of them do that this is associating, but it's not as often with vi, but it's still happening with silco.

He has been using more makeup to hide his scar even though he doesn't need to, he still feels that impulse. To do so sweet doesn't terrify the kids.

Silco has very long hair longer now. It reaches down to the middle of his chest, the middle of his back and he only lets a few people touch his hair without being Vi, Jinx, Vander and Sevika.

Vi is actually trying to do more with his hair, which is just braids. They're often very frizzy and lopsided. Though you can definitely tell it's abraid.It's often a ponytail first before it becomes a braid.

he fixes it before anyone else can see the braids, but still not enough. That it's very obvious that he did it to himself.

Vi absolutely is emembarrassed and touched that he kept in her terrible braids. Sometimes Jinx will just add a bit of hair clips to it just to add to the mess of his hair afterwards, he wears them to council meetings to the meetings at the chem barons.

He does not give a shit meanyone, who does raise an eyebrow to it and vocalizes their opinion of how terrible his hairstyle is. He will Promptly glare them down.

Since often vi is like his bodyguard when he's in meetings, either with the chem barons or the piltover council. it is so often and moticeable that she's trying to be the big scary dog she thinks she is that they Have set up her own seat next to silco.

And since Vi has tattoos, some of them are dedicated to her mom and silco. Though most of it still about her sister.

Also, she started practicing makeup around the same time. She always liked more messy and goth looks, but she didn't have the courage to pull it off till she went into pit fighting much to her dads' annoyance and fear.

That you try to alcohol for the first time and silco would not approve of her pit fighting make up. He thinks it's very atrocious, yet he keeps that to himself.

These are some ideas.

While I know most Vanco/Zaundads enthusiasts are focused on the family dynamic centered around Powder for obvious reasons (alternate timeline w/ Vi dead, we’re not really sure when Vanco reunited in that timeline, Jinx and Silco’s relationship in S1, etc.), I feel like we’re missing out on some solid Father-Daughter antics between Silco and Vi. For example:

- Vi growled at people she didn’t like until she was like 10 because she heard someone call Vander the Hound of the Underground and thought that was the coolest thing ever. Silco threatened to muzzle her if she didn’t stop.

- While Powder loves helping Vander out at The Last Drop, Vi insists on being Silco’s “bodyguard” whenever he had business to deal with, whether it’s with the Chem Barons or Piltover elite. Silco appreciates it but also cannot have every meeting end with a fistfight, please just stand in the corner and look menacing, Violet.

- Silco is the only one who calls her Violet. When she was really little he gave her the nickname Petal, which she loathes once she’s older but also secretly loves.

- He’s also the one she goes to when she wants to hear stories about her parents. Vander will tell her the big stuff, how Connol and Felicia met, when Vi was born, etc., but Silco will tell her about how her mom would sing the raunchiest ballads when she got drunk, how her dad hand-carved her crib when he found out Felicia was pregnant; the sweet little in between moments that made them who they were.

- Vi will keep Silco company when he stays up late working, a warm, solid presence pressed into his side. Vander loves it, because the second Vi starts drifting off, Silco will put down his work and help shuffle her off to bed. It’s the most effective way to keep Silco from burning the midnight oil.

Please feel free to add on, I’m obsessed with the entire Zaundads dynamic and want my girl Vi to get some love, too. ♥️♥️

[missypanther]

Power levels

I took this video, like I could have taken any other. I simply couldn't disagree more with this list.

I'm not too fond of power scales in shonen or in any kind of superhero work or similar, because I feel that they always end up becoming completely subjective balances of who makes them. But, I suppose, Dandadan is no exception.

Chapter 61.

In all the rankings I see Momo MUCH BELOW what I consider to be Momo's real power. Momo has the potential to alter reality. No, she hasn't reached that power currently, but she has the potential. And although I know that many times Momo is put very low just considering her strength and ignoring her strategy and quick reaction, that doesn't happen with Okarun who only beat Evil Eye because he is smarter than him. Okarun to this day has not shown any hidden potential and is still limited to using the turbo special hit 2 or 3 times. Or, at least, it was like that when he still had them. Evil Eye can use his powers unlimitedly even while inside Jiji's body and the same is true for Jiji himself when Evil Eye gives him control of his powers.

Chapter 173.

On the other hand, the fact that characters like Kinta or Vamola are not positioned at practically the same level is insulting. Yes, they are strong and big, but they are completely dependent on technology. Kinta without the nanoskin is directly a teenager with less skills than average and Vamola is something similar but they take away her armor. There are so many ways to beat them without having to get into a fight… Although Kinta can make incredible things, he was defeated not long ago by a well-placed baseball bat. You don't have to try too hard to knock it out of the game.

If we go to the fights that have been adapted in the anime so far. Momo is the one who wins in these fights or, at the very least, the essential piece to make the fight go in her favor. Let me explain:

Episode 1. Momo and Okarun vs Aliens and Turbogranny. Although Okarun tries to do something, he cannot help Momo. She is able to unlock the powers herself, save herself and Okarun, and dispossess Okarun's body even though the curse is still inside. If the turbo had not used the curse to teleport to the ufo, it would have finished off Okarun without him being able to defend himself.

Episode 2.

Momo and Okarun vs Flatwoods Monster. Again, Okarun tries to contribute something, but the thing is that if it hadn't been for the fact that the seal would have burned Okarun's body, Momo would have won the fight with extreme ease. If anything, we can say that he borrowed a little power from Seiko, as the talisman is what makes the fight end. But Momo's strategy is too good not to give her credit for it.

Episode 4.

Momo and Okarun vs Turbogranny, Earthbound Spirit Crab & Spirits. Obviously, without Okarun's powers it is impossible that they would have left the city unscathed, but Momo could have just let it go in the first place as Seiko suggested. The strategy of the entire combat depends on her, in addition to her powers, they are capable of containing the turbo in fusion mode. She wasn't strong enough to beat her, but she was strong enough to stop her until she broke through Seiko's barrier. Yes, Seiko was also important. But at that point in the fight, Momo not only had to endure a very tough fight, but on top of that she had to carry an unconscious okarun.

Episode 6 & 7.

Momo & Okarun vs Acrobatic Silky. Okarun was the first to be devoured. Although in the second part of the fight he was able to intervene something else and even delivered the final blow to the acrobatic, the rest of the fight depended on the strategy and powers of Momo who, on top of that, was tied up.

Episode 8 & 9.

Momo, Okarun & Aira vs Serpos, Mantis & Nessie. The target was always Okarun. Every time the enemies took advantage it was because Momo was not in the fight or because she made mistakes and got distracted. Errors that serpos take advantage of to use fusions. The final strategy is once again Momo's, her powers are those that destroy the arms of the fused version and she is the one who manages to revive Aira when she is knocked out. It is evident that both Aira and Okarun are necessary for them to win. But they don't succeed until Momo is able to focus and coordinate the entire fight.

[mothlau]

hello, for the kink meme, could i humbly ask you for leztappen and watersports/piss kink please? (and, if possible, with little to no desperation/humiliation?)

also, i wish you a happy new year, may it be filled with joy and good things for you!

hiii beloved!!! this one got out of control and also I hope it has enough humiliation. I tried to tone it down but honestly, it's piss play, you need the humiliation. anyway, happy new year to you too! 10 days too late but oh well! enjoy the piss play, puppy play, daddy kink and gp!max combo friends:3 (kink meme here)

6451 words :3

Most of their friends assume that it's Charles who's wrapped around Max’s finger. That she cannot say no to Max no matter how extravagant the demand may be, that whatever Max says or wants is final. To an extent, they're right. After all, she’s the femme, and according to people’s heteronormative minds, the one who is more feminine in the relationship is the one who cares more, who’s more attentive. 

Charles is wrapped around Max’s finger. But just as much, Max is whipped for Charles. If someone were to compare the amount of fondness they have for each other, people will quickly realize that it's not Charles who's wrapped around a little finger 24/7. 

It's Max. 

Max cannot deny Charles’ wishes; Max bends the whole world to give her lover the happiness she deserves. It's Max who spends nights upon nights to plan perfect getaways for their anniversaries, it's Max who gave into her wishes and got Charles the Steinway and placed the piano directly in their living room.

And, at the end of the day, it's Max who does everything in her power to make sure Charles enjoys herself. 

Whenever she notices something that Charles may find pleasure in, she stores the information away, making sure to bring it up when they're discussing scenes or new interests that may have sparked. Even with Charles’ overbearing eagerness to try new things with her, she  rarely initiates ideas. 

She's still shy, in spite of the time they've been together. It's endearing to Max, that Charles still blushes bright red when Max takes her bra off, that she’s still a mess when Max slides her hands down her thighs.

The list of things she wants to try is getting long, something that Max doesn't mind, per se. She doesn't, because in the end she can twist Charles into the perfect little puppet for her to toy with. They don't mind, because they’re certain Charles will like whatever they propose to her. 

He's toyed with an idea before, almost put it into action too, but in the end it didn't seem fit to make Charles piss herself without any rules set in stone yet. There's no doubt that the woman won't agree with it, but Max will rather postpone their play than do something that may make Charles even a little bit uncomfortable. 

So, despite her wishes and desires to break Charles, Max keeps everything under wraps. 

Whatever thoughts Charles shares with them during heated sessions and foggy mindsets, Max notes all in their head, safe to be used later on. Where to hit Charles, how to press her buttons theoretically, when to push, when to pull. Every little idea, all of them organised in Max’s brain, nicely and orderly. 

The last thing Charles told them about seemed easy enough when she first uttered her fantasy. Slap Charles’ pussy until she was cumming and begging for mercy. Simple, Max's done worse in her relationships. 

But with Charles, it wasn't as simple. She’s hit her lover before, tied her up and used whatever she fancied to break her, but it was always kept under an invisible, unspoken line. 

In spite of his cruel hands and words, Max can never truly hurt her beloved Charles. As much as it turns Max on, it pains her to cause her harm, even when Charles begs for that torture. Unless she's positive, one hundred percent and then some more, that at the end Charles will be drunk on pleasure. 

It's not unusual for their plays to be hit or miss, but Max prides herself in them being hits most of the time. 

They mention wanting to try new things during a relaxed dinner, when they’re almost sure Charles forgot about the things she's babbled on during a previous scene. And, of course, Charles agrees readily, albeit a bit timid and flushed. 

After that, it's smooth sailing on Max's side, at least. Charles is stuck with anticipation bubbling under her skin and the fear of uncertainty tearing at her conscience. 

To Max, who likes the waiting game, it's beautiful. To Charles, who is used to getting whatever she desires with minimum effort, it's hell. 

Every other day he makes Charles drink more than she can usually handle, slowly but surely trying to train the woman into holding her piss longer and longer. Most days it's a hassle which ends up with Charles whining and rushing to the bathroom, Max not bothering to stop her. But then there are some days, rare and in between, when Charles manages to go hours upon hours without running from Max's hold. 

The praise Charles gets also helps her, no matter how much she's trying to deny the humiliating claims. 

Almost a week later, Charles pushes a full bottle of water into Max's hands, making her look away from the laptop. Max doesn't need any clarification as to why she does this, nor does he need any pleas or guilty looks to nod at Charles' silent request. 

She trusts Max enough for the blonde to gain complete control over her bodily needs. Max can't help but smile fondly at it as they let the bottle rest on their thigh. Charles sits on the ground, head thrown back on the edge of the couch, minding the poorly balanced laptop. 

"Whenever you're ready," Max whispers, hand reaching out to tug at a few matted strands. Charles simply nods and allows herself to fall, Max's soothing touch being the only thing keeping her afloat. 

It takes Charles only an hour to finish the water, drinking obediently every time Max urges her to. She's even quicker to bring Max another one and one more, all whilst finishing them without any fuss. 

And then, as Max closes his laptop and opens his arms for Charles to crawl into, it only takes a few minutes for Charles' eyes to get cloudy and for her touch to get needier. The sight before her makes Max euphoric, an undeniable call to protect and please the withering woman in her lap. 

"You still with me, darling?" The words are barely above a whisper, but even so they grasp at Charles' conscience and pull her in just enough for the brunette to nod against Max's chest. All pliant and soft in their hands, Max isn't sure whether or not to move their play away from the couch and into their bedroom, where towels and mats lie specifically for what's to happen next. 

"Hurts a bit, Maxie," Charles says, voice all hushed and feeble. The hand resting on Max's bicep tugs and squeezes, a poor attempt for Charles to regain control over herself. 

"Colour, pretty?" 

It takes Charles a moment, already gone and drifting, but soon, she mumbles a simple and clear, "Green." 

"Do you want me to carry you to the bedroom, angel? I don't think we'll like our couch smelling like piss after this." 

Despite how embarrassing the words should be, Max doesn't find them shameful anymore. She’s been fantasising about this for months now, the idea of watching Charles crumble under her orders and hands, her lover losing whatever ounce of self-control she still has and letting it all loose. That's enough for Max to push away any shame that might've been left inside. 

With Charles, it's not the same. The woman’s face flushes a bright red, the color travelling under the collar of her shirt, painting the hidden skin in beautiful hues of reds and pinks. Almost as beautiful as the marks they flush over. 

Almost. 

When there's no answer coming from Charles, Max gets the unspoken message. As always, Charles wants Max to carry her, manhandle her as if she's nothing but a lightweight in Max's hold. Which, undoubtedly, she is. 

With a quick movement, Max stands, gentle hands reaching out to lift Charles with ease. Her perfect little girl whines and squirms, the sudden change already too much for her sensitive state. 

"This ok?" Max asks, voice full of worry. 

Charles can only nod again, words lost somewhere in her head, muddled by thoughts full of desire, lust, animalistic instincts. After the quick answer, Max takes her time getting them to the bedroom, mostly because with each sickeningly slow step she takes out of the living room and down the hallway, Charles becomes that much more responsive to Max's cold touch. 

In preparation for their scene, Charles spread out the puppy mats they’ve gotten, while Max took his time to make sure that nothing of value could be ruined. The pillows were all sitting on the reading nook next to the window, towels have been placed close enough to the bed that Max didn’t have to look around for them and amid the whole mess of colorful cotton and stark white paper, now lies Charles. 

Charles, her perfect girl, who looks up at Max as if she’d hung the stars in the sky and then proceeded to create a whole universe just for Charles. Charles, her lovely girl, who is barely able to hold back tears as Max refuses to touch her just yet. Charles, her divine lover, whose back arches off the puppy mats when Max's knees hit the mattress, wanton moans and whined pleas falling from between bitten lips. 

"Puppy," Max bites back a smile. "Puppy, can you sit up a bit?" They crawl on the bed, remaining above Charles without their knees touching the woman’s sides. "I want you to drink some more, can you?" 

"Yes," Charles breathes out, fingers tightening around the puppy mat underneath. "Yes, daddy. Anything for you, Maxie." 

Max's face fills with love and adoration for the woman writhing beneath. Such a perfect, responsive being, all belonging to Max alone. He couldn't be happier. 

Helping Charles sit up, back leaning on the hardboard, Max reaches for the bottle left on the bedside table. Another thing Charles prepared, in hopes that Max would make her drink it and push her to the edge. 

"You're being so good for me, Charlie. Making me so proud right now." 

"I am?" Charles asks, a look full of hope blooming on her face. 

Max kisses the smile off her face, gentle and careful. "You are. My best girl, perfect little one. That's what you are, Charlie."

"Maxie–" the human whines, pressing her face into their open palms. "Need you." 

Unable to stop herself, Max pushes with her malevolent teasing, a vicious smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. “You need me? How? Need me to touch your greedy cunt? Need me to slap it? Want me to press here?” Max's fingers push on the swollen bladder, light enough to simply make Charles cry out. “Or maybe you need me to fuck your dumb hole until you’re pissing all over yourself.” The woman sobs again, nodding along with Max's words mindlessly. “Which one is it, puppy?” 

“Yes,” she answers, muffled by her own hand.

“Dumb puppy,” Max smiles, feeling his chest overflow with butterflies and flowers. “Let’s finish the water first, then I’ll decide what you deserve.”

The silence that fills the room feels deafening as Max watches Charles. She is struggling to twist the cap off, fingers white with how hard she’s gripping the bottle. Max makes no move to help her, smirk still plastered on their face, eyes ranking up and down Charles' shaking body as she gets more and more annoyed. 

She lets out an exasperated whine, head hitting the wood behind him, “Max.”

“Yes, pup?”

Suddenly she has a handful of plastic to deal with, all while Charles stares at her with the same hurt expression she abuses whenever Max refuses to immediately give in. He can’t say no to her, no matter how much he’d like to watch her struggle some more. One simple twist later, the warmed liquid spills onto Charles shorts, seeping into the cotton and making Charles tremble.

Without uttering a word, Max grabs Charles face, fingers digging into the woman’s flushed cheeks to hold her mouth open. Charles tongue lolls out, expecting Max to spit on top of it, to push their finger past her lips and fuck her mouth ruthlessly. 

From her place above Charles, Max laughs. Her weight falls atop of Charles thighs, sweatpants clinging to her legs, making the restrictive touch feel worse. If he could, he’d take the pants off in an instant, but right now Max has to focus on Charles and Charles alone. 

Pink lips attempt to close around Max's fleeting forefinger, but the force Max has stops Charles before she can even whine. The water bottle feels heavy in her hand, and though it would feel rewarding to dump it over Charles' head, humiliate her further, Max knows that what’s to happen next will be even sweeter. 

“Charles,” she says, tone icy cold. Max sees her lover swallow, fear budding in her eyes. “Tilt your head back for me, mutt.”

That’s all the woman needs. Eyes fall shut, mouth slips open with little resistance and her head falls back. Max's hand still resides on top of Charles’ cheeks. She can’t stop herself from moving it lower, enticed with the beauty presented so effortlessly in front of her. It rests on the column of his neck, barely touching the trashed skin. 

Underneath him, shudders run down Charles’ spine, lips agape in a soundless moan. They’ve never seen something as beautiful before, not once in their lifetime have they witnessed such perfection falling apart mere centimeters away from them. 

Bright red spreads down Charles neck, skin hot beneath Max's hold. The woman’s cheeks, dusted scarlet and covered by a thin layer of sweat, invite Max to press kisses on the crimson expanse of her face. A promise of being able to do so after he breaks Charles consoles Max's urge to revere the angel. Her pretty girl shifts under her touch, eyes opening slightly to see why Max is not painting her skin in hues of purple and red. 

“Daddy…” Charles sounds wrecked already. “Why aren’t you touching me?”

“I am, silly,” Max answers simply, hand tightening around the brunette’s neck. “See?”

A pathetic whine rips through Charles sobs, fingers closing around Max’s wrist. It is so unbelievably easy to toy with Charles’ feelings, to push her buttons until she’s begging like a mindless, broken mutt. Max loves it, almost as much as she loves the gentleness that engulfs them after. 

“Let’s drink the water and then I promise to touch you however you wish.” His thumb presses in the neck juncture, eliciting a pitiful moan from his beautiful lover. “Colour, Charlie? You still with me?”

“Green, daddy,” Charles breathes out, her hold on Max's wrist relaxing. “Please, Maxie… Please ruin me. Need-- Need it s’ bad, baby. S’te plait”

Something about the slurred speech, the glazed look in Charles’ eyes when she pins Max under a lustful glance, the slight tremble in Charles’ hands and shoulders stops Max from pulling the woman’s head back. He’s never had Charles this far gone before they even started. Part of them wants to stop, pull their lover out and make sure she’s alright and coherent enough to know what’s happening to her. 

Reluctantly, she lets go of Charles, scooting back enough to loom over her while still presenting a form of comfort for her shaking lover. 

“Charlie, I need you to check in one more time. Can you do that for me, please?”

“‘M green, Maxie. Promise.”

The look that Charles fixes Max with is one of pure lust, undeniable desire burning hot in molten emerald. It sets Max back a few steps, a carnal desire spreading in her blood, wrapping around each and every organ inside of her. It tugs painfully at the ravenous wish to destroy Charles. 

Holding back those sinful impulses, Max leans back in, hand on Charles shoulder as she carefully presses a kiss on the woman’s nose. Soft and gentle, exactly the opposite of what Charles asked for. 

Charles mewls, fingers tightening around the material of Max's shirt. “Max. Fucking fuck me, you idiot.”

He moves without thinking, the ear splitting sound of a slap resonating in the room. “Impatient mutt, you have to wait for what you want or else I’ll leave you. Do you want to be here alone, without my help or permission to touch your pathetic pussy?”

“No!” Charles all but cries, thrashing under Max's weight. “‘M sorry, daddy, didn’t mean to be rude. Please don’t leave me.” 

The tears streaming down Charles’ cheeks ignite the fire further. Their body feels aflame, possessiveness spiraling inside their chest. Max is the only one who can make Charles cry like this, the only one who can light her body a bright vermillion with few and in between touches and stares. He is the only one who will never leave Charles, not in a time of need, not in a time of sickness. 

Never. 

“I’d never leave you, darling,” Max reminds her, voice dripping in honey. “I’ll stay with you for as long as you’ll have me.” 

“Forever?” Charles asks, gaze shy, yet hopeful. 

“Forever,” Max easily agrees, sealing the deal with a short lived kiss. 

The tenderness is just as short lived, mean fingers wrapping around Charles locks and finally, finally pulling her head back. The woman’s lips fall open as she swallows dryly at what’s to come. 

Max wishes she could capture the work of art unraveling in front of her, keep it forever with her, tucked into her phone for her to enjoy when apart from her lover. Shaking her head, Max pushes those thoughts aside. 

“I’m going to make you drink all of this water, Charlie. Gonna make you drown on it until you’re sobbing and pissing all over yourself, understood?” Her voice leaves no room for argument and Charles can sense the strictness. She nods, attempts to despite the hand holding her head still. 

Not a single breath escapes Max while he pours the water past Charles parted lips. Mesmerized, he watches the woman struggle to swallow, her Adam’s apple bobbing with each gulp she manages to take. Tears fall from her closed eyes, breathing becomes more erratic. Still, Max doesn’t stop pouring. Not when water leaks down the sides of Charles face and onto the mats, not when Charles closes her mouth to calm herself, the two simple taps the woman places on his bicep fueling Max's sadism. 

The last few drops fall on top of her closed lips, running down heated skin with ease. Flushed skin seems to make the water evaporate, heating it up and leaving Charles hot and bothered before Max. Her eyes, though shut tight, twitch with every momentary touch. 

What a sight Max made of Charles. What a beautiful masterpiece he had created, all for himself to marvel at. This angel, this holy being that’s at Max's mercy is the embodiment of deadly sins. Lust and gluttony and pride and greed, all paint the insides of Max's chest in shades of green and bleeding red. 

Hypnotized, Max stares. 

She is so in love with this woman, so in love that no one could understand her devotion. No other can compare to Charles, no other can even come close to how dear Max holds this woman.

A whimpered whisper of his name breaks him out of his day dreaming. Their eyes focus on Charles’ face, red and blotchy with dried tears, trails of water and saliva going down her chin. She’s splendid, perfect in each and every way imaginable. She’s more than Max deserves, more than what she could’ve asked for. 

In any way, shape and form, Charles is her God, her angel and muse. 

“Max, please.” And despite not knowing what Charles is begging for, what she’s holding onto Max for, he cannot deny her precious love. When she’s pleading and sobbing for Max's touch, she’d have to be mad to ignore such saccharine requests. 

“Yes, my love, I know. You want me to touch you and make you cum. Your greediness never fails to impress me,” she sighs mournfully, putting on an act to rile her pretty girl up even more. “Say, you think you deserve to cum? You really think you’ve been good?”

“Yes!” Charles sobs, digging her fingernails into Max's shoulders. “I’ve been s’ good for you, daddy! Drank everything and-- and held my piss like a good girl.” She’s crying again, choking on her own sobs and spit. It’s a pitiful image, but Max relishes in the loud weeps. 

Charles is just so bewitching when she’s reduced to nothing but a sobbing mess. 

Max hums, deep in thought as she pretends to weigh the limited options she has. They don’t want to tease Charles for much longer, doubts they even can do it without giving themself blue balls, but God, they want to. Briefly, she thinks back to the list of things she’d planned out to do with Charles today and suddenly she doesn’t care about teasing Charles. She’d rather overstimulate her until she’s blabbering nonsense and shaking. 

“Colour?” 

Charles frowns at him, pout tugging at her lips. “Green,” she mumbles, chin tucked into her chest. “Please, daddy. It hurts!”

“Oh?” Max quirks her eyebrow, smirking down at the corrupted little thing. “Where does it hurt, baby girl?”

Her hand flies from Max's shoulder, resting gently above her own bladder, careful as to not press on it. Max can’t have this. Without much care, she moves Charles hand aside, pressing her thumb into the woman’s swollen abdomen. 

Charles’ sobs rip through her body, writhing as she tries to get away from the pressure Max is putting on her. In one swift move, she pulls her lover down, shirt riding up along with the mats. He moves from his place atop Charles’ thighs, momentarily sitting on the mattress while observing her. 

Without the weight on top of her, Charles lifts his head, confused and dazzled. She spots Max quickly, and without much thought she gives Max her best puppy eyes, bottom lip jutted out to effectively pull on Max's heartstrings. 

“Daddy, please come back and touch me,” her girl demands, face smushed into the pillow. “Wanna cum, please.”

Gods, Max will never tire of hearing her beg. 

He doesn’t utter a single sound while maneuvering Charles to sit between her legs. Doesn’t sprinkle any mean comments in when Charles wraps them around Max's waist, ankles crossed behind her back to hold Max close. Even when Charles buries her face deeper into the pillow, Max doesn’t say a word. 

They’re observing, committing every detail unfolding in front of them to memory, tucking away the pictures for later. 

Charles whimpers into the cotton covers, holding back another sob. “Hurts, daddy.”

“Does it?” Max asks. Her fingers itch to touch, to claim what’s hers with dark bruises in the form of Max's palms. “Should I make the pain go away, puppy?” The woman nods minutely. Had Max not been paying attention, he might’ve missed it. “Alright, darling. I’m gonna take your shorts off now, ok?” Another easy to miss nod. “Can you check in with me real fast, angel?”

“You can take them off, daddy. I’m green, j’st really hurts. Wan’ cum but it’s too much.”

As soon as the shorts and soiled panties are off, Max holds Charles’ foot gently, bringing it to his lips. She presses a single kiss in the middle of her sole, making the woman giggle despite the discomfort she is in. It brings a smile on Max's face, hearing her pretty girl laugh like this, all shy and soft. Charles covers her face, hands hiding the beautiful blush Max's put on her cheeks. 

Still, she can’t hide her pretty pussy, bruising red and leaking down her thighs, making for the most unholy view, nor can she conceal the flush on his neck, going under the shirt and coming back on her hips and thighs. Charles blushes beautifully, Max has come to know. Her whole body turns the loveliest shade of red, from the tips of her ears when Max leans in to whisper sweet I love you’s in public, to her thighs, burning red under Max's ministrations. 

It’s truly and absolutely fascinating, to say the least. 

“How do you want this, Charlie? On your back or on your stomach?”

“Back,” Charles answers eagerly. 

Max chuckles darkly, amused by the woman’s enthusiasm to piss all over herself. “Well, pup, go ahead. Wet yourself like the dumb mutt you are.” 

It’s an interesting progression, what happens next. Charles’ eyes shut tight, a deep frown creasing her forehead. She’s silent, panting while she struggles to let go. Under Max's loving gaze, Charles breaks. Frustrated sobs wreck through her, fists balling into the mats. The image is enough to make possessiveness spark underneath Max's skin, igniting their desires to keep these moments safe and away from anyone else. To keep Charles to themself. 

“Max, I can’t.” 

In a way, Max understands her pain and frustrations. She can imagine how hard it must be to let go, how humiliating the idea of pissing herself must be for Charles. Worry seeps into her bones again. 

“What can’t you do, angel?”

“I can’t--” Charles cuts herself off with a loud mewl. “Can’t go, daddy!”

“Can’t?” The fingers rubbing soothing circles on Charles' ankle ghost over her leg, moving to her hip, touch cold and brief, before stopping on the woman’s abdomen. “Or won’t?” The press is just a brief, a green ticket for Charles to call it quits in case she changes her mind. 

She doesn’t. 

“Can’t, daddy! It’s too ‘mbarrassing,” she mumbles into her hands, hiding behind them as a form of faux-comfort. “Help, Maxie…” The hushed and broken tone makes Max blink at his lover. 

Realization floods him. “Oh, you’re such a naughty thing, love,” he says with a laugh. Her previous gentleness is gone, thumb pressing roughly into Charles bladder, making the woman squirm in discomfort and pain. “Needing me to make you piss,” Max tuts, shaking her head at the crying beauty laid before her. “Naughty, messy little one. You never fail to impress me.”

Back arching off the mattress, Charles thrusts her hips in the air, oh so close to Max, yet so far away. She humps the air, ivory teeth biting the back of her hand, canines digging into tanned skin without an ounce of self-control. And yet, she’s still not letting go. 

It’s a wonder, how she’s managed to keep it in for so long, despite Max's continuous teasing. It makes Max just that more hungry, craving to see Charles come apart at his hand. 

“Daddy--” Charles stutters, the frown on her face only deepening with each second in which Max tortures her slowly. “Can’t do it, Maxie. Need your hand on my clit, daddy! Hurts too much!” She sounds so completely and utterly broken, so distressed and in this moment, Max swears she’s never been more in love with the sounds someone makes, let alone with the person letting them out. 

“Since you’ve asked so nicely,” she agrees without a fuss, right hand moving between Charles’ thighs, finger pressing into her swollen clit, squeezing it harshly to draw out more needy noises from Charles. 

“Thank you, thank--” Charles whines loudly, teeth pulling at her fingers, bitemarks imprinted on them. Desperate sounds bleeding into the room plague Max's mind. “I’m gonna--”

But Charles doesn’t get to finish her warning. With Max's hand moving faster and faster over Charles’ clit, she finally comes undone. Her whole body goes rigid, before relaxing into the sheets as a hot stream of piss leaks down her thighs, soaking the sheets, the mats, Max’s sweatpants, everything. 

Max didn’t know what to expect when he was planning this. Piss, surely; a mess, of course. But she didn’t expect for it to be so… enticing. The idea of Charles pissing herself did fascinate her, but she never thought it will be this hot. Watching Charles break turns her on more than she’d like to admit; it’s maddening, intoxicating. 

The stream doesn’t seem to be ending, liquid glistening atop Charles skin, seeping into his shirt, the mats absorbing as much as they can. Max is surprised that not much gets on his own clothes, only his knees wet with how he’s standing on the bed, the shirt he’s wearing remaining dry, safe for the edges pooling around his waist. 

She’s impossibly hard in her sweats and the sinfully erotic image of Charles panting, eyes shut tight, pussy spasming and leaking, piss drenching her clothes and the bed she’s resting on… It takes everything out of her to not devour the woman, but despite her best efforts she can’t stop her fingers from twitching with need, moving from Charles abdomen down her thigh, squeezing the fat with brute force. 

“Charles,” Max breathes out, voice strained. “Can I fuck your thighs?”

Charles legs tighten around her waist, hands gripping at Max's forearms. They’re bound to be bruised the next day, but neither care. Max loves being marked and purple just as much as she adores putting them across Charles' perfect body. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” Charles chants, head thrown back in pure bliss. “Please touch me, daddy. Wanna cum now, daddy.”

Laughing to herself, Max reaches into their bedside table for the lube, fingers still massaging and squeezing at Charles thighs. “What, pissing yourself wasn’t enough to make you cum?” There’s no time to wait for the woman’s response. Max needs to cum just as badly as her sweet girl. 

The pretty blush spreading across Charles' body stops them for just a moment. A moment they uses to gawk at Charles, put some more images away in their head for later. She’s gorgeous. Thoroughly and unconditionally so. 

And Max, Max whose heart beats faster each time she steals a glance at her beautiful girl, Max whose stomach fills with butterflies and whose organs are wrapped in flowers and crystals and vines so thick they're making it hard to breathe, Max who cannot do anything but fall deeper in love with Charles, falls. She falls again and again, until she’s bruised and her knees are bleeding, yet she cannot stop. She wants this perfect woman, her perfect girl forever. Wants to fall for her more and more as their bones grow weak and the soil reclaims what belongs to it. 

The lube is cold when it hits Charles’ thighs, if the hiss she lets out is any form of indication of it. Not even the hotness that Charles emanates is enough to warm it up while Max sheds her sweatpants, cock springing free. He’s redder than Charles, untouched and begging to be buried in between Charles thighs. They’re both silent as Max guides Charles to squeeze her legs together, feet thrown over Max's shoulder to make it easier for her. 

Soft moans fill the room, Charles saccharine noises coating Max's dazed mind with a thick fog. Charles is a fuel, a fuel for unprompted decisions leading to handprints bruised on a tanned neck and fingerprints atop wide hips. Charles burns her, her touch burns deep into Max's skin, melting hardened walls with ease. It feels like she's boiling alive, underneath her skin. 

All because of Charles. 

His cock aches as he pushes its head past Charles' thighs. The press is astonishingly tight, so much so that Max feels the air being knocked from her lungs the more she pushes. God, she loves Charles’ thighs; she cannot get enough of feeling them around her, squeezing her, pulling her cock farther in. They want them wrapped around their head, their waist, their cock. Everywhere. 

“Angel,” Max moans, grip on Charles hips more secure with each shallow thrust. “You feel so good around me, angel. Your thighs were made to be fucked.” As an answer, Charles whimpers, biting on her bottom lip to keep the loudest noises away. “Made entirely for me to use, isn’t that right--” Max prides herself for the amount of self-restraint she has, but once she’s touching Charles, it all dissipates. 

“Yours, daddy. Only belong to you,” the woman agrees mindlessly. 

The drag across hot skin is rough, even with the amounts of lube and piss still on Charles legs. It’s mind numbing, uncomfortable enough to make Max hiss in pleasure as he increases the speed minutely. 

Charles' eyes are glued to her own legs, watching Max's cock poke out between them hungrily. If Max didn’t know any better she’d even say she’s salivating, mouth slightly open, tongue sticking out. But she’s not, because in moments like this, when Charles gets so focused on something that she doesn’t even blink, it’s almost like all her bodily functions shut down. All but her ability to stare and burn each detail into her retina. 

“You like watching your thighs swallow me whole, baby girl?" Max asks with a soft chuckle. “You have no idea how good you feel, love,” his words get stuck in his throat, another frail whine escaping Max. 

“Want you to touch me, daddy,” Charles whispers into thick air. It takes Max a moment to realize she’s spoken and then another one to take in what Charles said, but once she does her hand immediately moves to rest against Charles' clit. 

He doesn’t move it yet, waiting for Charles to break once again and beg for Max to make her cum. The thrusts don’t slow down, each one pulling Max closer to the edge. Volatile reds bloom across Charles' body, tainting Max's pale skin in its progress. She’d rather have the woman’s teeth stain her ruby and violet instead, but this will do. 

The sight of her beautiful lover alone can make Max cum. Seeing her so transfixed on the part where her cock peeks out, eyes glazed with want and lust only adds to the carnal effect she has on Max. 

Max is close, thrusts coming to a halt every time her navel touches the back of Charles’ thighs. He’s close and Charles is surprisingly quiet, yet just as spellbound. Without hrt own accord, Max's fingers rub over the woman’s clit, drawing out a series of rich whines and sobs, each more delicious than the other. 

She swallows them all with a hungry, starved kiss. 

In a flurry of chasing their own orgasm, Max's hand begins moving faster over Charles, sweet noises escaping the woman with each thrust and every press. The position is uncomfortable, Max's neck hurting as she leans down to press kisses on Charles face. She doubts the way Charles is folded is any better, but her lover’s only complaints are about needing to cum faster and harder. 

“Max, Maxie--” Charles chokes on her own spit. “Can I cum? Please, let me, daddy!” She’s sobbing again, beautifully so. Face red, with streaks of tears upon streaks of tears, saliva dripping down the corners of her mouth. 

Max almost doesn’t manage to give her permission, voice dying in her throat before she can get the words out on the first try. Their movements get that more clumsy with every pull back, the hand on Charles’ pussy stopping its strokes for a brief moment.  “Yes, sweetheart,” she says after her hips still enough for Max to recompose herself. 

That is all Charles needs. The granted permission, the grazing kissing Max continues to press all over her face, the hand that resumes its fast paced stroking. All of them tilt Charles over and with a single, loud keen, she cums all over Max's hand. 

Max isn't far behind. The woman brings her legs closer, impossibly tight, wishing to have Max's cum mix with hers. Max can barely breathe, air coming out in short puffs as he struggles to keep himself above Charles, lest he wants to collapse on top of his lovely girl. 

Charles' thighs are Heavenly around him. 

"Maxie," Charles moans, a quiet sob coming out of her. "Cum for me." 

With a whimper, Max goes still, spilling all over Charles' perfect thighs. The room is silent, safe for their heavy breathing and occasional whine Charles lets out. 

Blissful afterglow seeps into Charles' features, red bleeding out and leaving only coral pink behind. She's breathtaking, basking in her own orgasm, eyes closed and head tilted back. She's breathtaking, thighs still shaking around Max, hands letting go, without meaning to, of Max's arms.

Max's hand pulls away, moving up towards the woman’s mouth. The cum is already drying on her fingers, but that doesn't stop her from pushing two of them past Charles lips, watching with so much love as she sucks them into her mouth without a single complaint. 

God, Max just keeps on falling. 

"You're so pretty, Charlie. Been so good for me today," Max's tone is quieter, scared of breaking the moment they've created. Charles stays silent, only smiling up at her lover, completely blissed out with the fingers slowly pushing in and out of her mouth, resting on the brunette’s tongue every now and again. 

“Thanks, mate,” she whispers around Max's fingers. 

Max stops altogether, a stunned expression on his face. “Did you… just call me mate after I made you piss yourself and fucked your thighs?”

The smile Charles offers him is so stupidly endearing that Max can’t even find it in her to be upset by the absurdity of it all. 

“Alright, pretty girl, let’s get you in the shower. You reek of piss and I’m too tired to do anything else tonight,” Max says with a soft laugh. Her fingers leave Charles mouth, and though the whine the woman gives her does tug at her heartstrings, Max doesn’t give in. Charles can always fall asleep sucking on their fingers if she really does want that, but right now they’d rather take a long, hot shower and not think about the smell seeping into their mattress. 

“You have to carry me, though,” Charles informs him, matter of factly. 

Max scoffs, but nonetheless she stands and picks the woman up, throwing her over her shoulder. “I always carry you, idiot.”

“Yes, because it turns you on that you can manhandle me,” Charles scoffs back. “I’ll blow you in the morning if you wash my hair.”

Max sighs. “Fine,” she agrees, not bothering to tell Charles that she would’ve taken care of that without the promise of a blowjob. Charles doesn’t need her ego inflated any more than it already is. “It better be the best blowjob of my life, though.”

“Oh, you’ll love it, mon chou,” Charles laughs. 

Max doesn’t doubt it, but it’s nice to play the role sometimes. 

After all, Charles still hasn’t caught up on the fact that Max is so in love with her she’d give up everything to make her happy.

[thoughtfulchaos773]

Sorry my English isn’t great but Can we have more thoughts on Syd & Carm and sex? How do you think they would both go about interacting with it and each other if we ever got a scene of them like that? (Which I don’t think we will but one can hope 😭)

Don't apologize! Fun fact- I used to write E fanfiction, but nothing for sydcarmy (yet maybe in the future)

But if we're talking cannon: it would happen in the daylight similar to the table scene. Morning after and just the beginning. There wouldn't be anxiousness from Carmy in the morning or showing Carmy's mind somewhere else. He's very present with Sydney and always aware of where she's at. She takes space in his head anyway - so sex would be all about her pleasure and strong eye contact.

You know what would be great for me? They don't even have to show explicity sex, show me the morning after Sydney has spent the night and Carmy is ready to go down on her- she's the first thing on his mind in the morning and she's in bed- with him, post sex? Yeah, he's not wasting a moment.

After all, it’s FX—it's an MA-rated show, so we already expect explicit love scenes and how they will be portrayed. Give us a good surprise! They've already shown explicit positions of certain characters, so why not illustrate how things are different this time?

Here are my thoughts on Sydney and Carmy: it's a popular belief that Sydney is the dominant one, I think Carmy actually holds a more dominant role in bed, at least at first. There’s a suggestion that in the end, Sydney will always have emotional power over him; she has his heart in her hands and ultimately calls the shots when it comes to the core of their relationship.

I think based on the show- Sydney has a praise kink, but it seems to be specific to Carmy. She pokes fun at Marcus in the show when he gives her praise. But Carmy gives her praise? She melts. So imagine Carmy giving her so much praise during sex?

Their relationship shows how Carmy pulls vulnerability out of her when he reads her. Being a dominant partner is a skill; it helps the more submissive partner switch off their racing thoughts and open up. For the submissive partner to really let go, they’ve got to trust that their dom will catch them if they fall. If the dom doesn’t support them, that’s when problems come up.

Sydney and Carmy play these roles on the show, dont they? and it's a challenge. Carmy is working on being someone Sydney can rely on to catch her when she falls, and for Sydney, she knows how scary it is to completely give in. When Carmy is confident enough, he reassures her by saying things like, “I won’t let you” showing that he’s up for the challenge and ready to give her what she needs. He's ready to care for her because she cares for so many people- so wouldn't it be nice for her for someone to take care of her? To make her happy and satisfied?

For Carmy, stepping into the dom role is great practice. He wasn't really feeling it when Claire was leading the chase; she lead the getting his number, in their private scene notice she's the one leading the questions to get to know him more, she's the one in the morning telling him "everything is fine" the morning after- Claire is the one on top of him while Carmy sits up at night.

Carmy wants to build enough confidence to take charge himself with Sydney, and after she gives over, he looks to Sydney for a bit of reassurance, asking her if she liked what happened. He’ll gently ask her to share what she enjoys and what doesn’t work for her - Carmy is the one who leads with questions.

Even if Carmy is the dominant one, Sydney won't make it easy for him. She doesn't make it easy for him anyway, and he deserves to be questioned and challenged as she does in canon.

[themalhambird]

I put Next Generation on for background noise while crafting, got distracted by just. Straight up watching it, and that means it's time for my longstanding tradition of [insert current media fixation here] Star Trek AU: Rings of Power edition.

Gil-galad is Captain of the U.S.S Lindon. He is not paid enough. Yes, the Federation doesn't use money, he's still not paid enough. His First Officer (on this diplomatic and scientific vessel) likes to stun first ask questions later, and his chief engineer does things like strip all the engines down and rearrange everything inside them instead of sleeping because "the ship was complaining the wires were itchy."

Celebrimbor is the chief engineer in question, from a small planet and a people with an affinity for crafting and machinery beyond most humanoids, but Celebrimbor takes it to a whole other level. He and the Lindon talk to each other. He made a little mechanical mouse to keep the plasma conduits company, got thrown in the brig for refusing to dismantle it when an Admiral doing an inspection orders him to, and got released from the brig 72 hours later when taking the mouse away from plasma conduits ended up triggering a series of engineering catastrophes.

Galadriel is first officer. She and Gil-galad disagree often, but are still a strong team. Elrond is communications officer, though he's trying to pick up as much medical knowledge and experience as possible because he's 1) genuinely interested but 2) Celebrimbor and Galadriel both have a tendency to Get Into Situations and knowing one end of the med scanner from the other comes in handy.

Adar is... okay picture this. There's an old abandoned mining colony on an astroid littered with scrap, and the Lindon needs spare parts after taking heavy damage in a storm or something, so Galadriel and Celebrimbor beam down...and are immediately taken captive by a group of the mineworkers- humanoidish beings calling themselves Uruks- abandoned when the capitalist shitbags had finished stripping the place bare. Adar refused to leave and has been struggling to keep the small group surviving, aims to have them thriving, but the whole place is powder keg. Anyway, respective reactions to being captured:

Galadriel: I am going to fight my way out of this with my bare hands and my teeth if I have to >:-/ Celebrimbor: All this broken machinery is easily fixible, i just need a few days- in exchange for being able to return to our ship with the parts we need? :D

Anyway while Celebrimbor is being helpful and Galadriel is being mad about it, the Uruks move against Adar because stuff has been shit for so long, and stuff explodes, and Adar ends up helping Galadriel and Celebrimbor make a run for it, at which point Celebrimbor is like. "Look, come back with us to the Lindon. There's nothing here for you, we can drop you off somewhere-" and that is how Adar ends up stalking around the Lindon or skulking in the engine room like a grumpy cat. He ends up sidling into an unofficial ship's security role thanks to a series of Episode-of-the-week type shenanigans.

Sauron is a reoccurring problem. He first boards the Lindon as Halbrand, an ambassador needing conveying around several star systems. Charming, model passenger, gets on very well with Galadriel in particular. The series of incidents and arguments that break out while he's on board are nothing to do with him. Elrond thinks something's *off*, but can't articulate why. Anyway, Halbrand leaves them. And then it comes through that Star Fleet never had any record of him...

A year or so later a new engineer is assigned to the Lindon- Annatar. By the time he's exposed, Celebrimbor's nearly blown up the whole ship up and a whole raft of Star Fleet engineering secrets have been stolen...

[bonemarble]

love your thoughts on Leah! how do you think her relationship could develop or what direction would it go in regards to Anna and Charles after wild sign?

interesting question! i don't think i have a very good answer for a "direction" these relationships could take, mainly because that depends on the larger story pb wants to tell: is this a story where people deconstruct the social order that has generated them or one where they try to find some measure of peace in it? i'll explain better under the cut.

charles and leah, i think, are at a point where they are starting to come to terms with their rivalry and identify its true cause: they were two lonely children starved for affection fighting each other because they couldn't fight bran for it. at the same time i don't know that this modicum of understanding is enough to build a relationship. even seeing the situation with a bit more clarity, the material causes that pit them against each other are not going to disappear, they have centuries of ill feelings between them, and i think at this point they simply don't like each other very much. even more importantly, i think there's a very good reason they are so repelled by each other and it took them so long to see the other's distress: they are very good mirrors. they both spent formative years of their lives with bran as the only (if imperfect) parental (or quasi) figure in their lives and attached the majority of their sense of self to their usefulness to him. to fully recognise the pain of this in the other would come very close to recognising this in themselves. they both know bran doesn't treat them well but they have become accustomed to it, i think. they grow some thick skin over it, shrug it off and get on with things (that's how bran wants them after all). seeing the other's wounds would make their own much more difficult to ignore. there's also an even more convoluted contortion in place: if they each believe bran is somehow unfair only towards them while he is right when he mistreats others, they never need to really question bran's judgement. feeling isolated in this unfairness is preferable compared to confronting the life-shaking truth that the person that moves the sun in your world may be doing it wrong. many other thoughts along these lines but this is already long.

leah and anna also have a mildly antagonistic relationship but of course there's less history there. my main issue with anna is that the only way to give her some true tridimensionality would be to acknowledge with some seriousness the difficulty of her circumstances. she was turned against her will, abused for years, and then latched onto her only saviour. he is a man she knows little when they basically marry and he is violent and possessive. her new life revolves around him and his complex family, with which she lives and has to deal all the time. at the same time, her survival depends on their support and protection, as we have seen how much her 'omega specialness' doesn't really ensure safety without material power to prevent her exploitation. there's no need to turn this into a grimdark novel, but if this context is not always waved away, suddenly she is not an unrealistic fairy always untouched by events: she is someone making strategic decisions to craft the best life possible out of her circumstances, finding love where she can and fighting for it. she has no true interest in anyone besides charles bc she is rightly guarded and balancing her new relationship with him already requires a lot of her energies. + he is the only person she can trust to be in her corner, without which she should be as lost as when they met (she also truly loves him ofc but this hardly explains her isolationist behaviour). she manipulates others not bc she is some quirky genius: it's the only way she sees to obtain what she needs when she is surrounded by aggressive impulsive people that are more powerful than her and feels the need to forestall their worst reactions. when bran and charles start giving her some latitude, she relaxes around them, especially as she realises she has things she can leverage (charles's love and her omega powers) to ensure a better condition for herself. but she is still wary of their flaws and recognises how they impact leah. yet leah is unpleasant. she sometimes makes her life more difficult but not really with the gravity and frequency people seem to assign her. even on good days however anna, so so smart and crafty and sneaky in navigating her circumstances, is almost annoyed by her: how has she not learned to do this better? how has she not learned to make herself likeable and dance around people and avoid confrontation to better obtain what she wants? but there's something else behind it, imo: leah might be brash and crude but she is real. how liberating that must be, to not always feel like your well-being depends on how quickly you past on a smile! the reason anna doesn't like leah, is the reason most people don't: to acknowledge leah's reactions as sensible is to eliminate the displacement of blame that allows life under unfair circumstances. to see leah's anger is justified means asking herself: why is she not angry? leah is a great mirror for her too. she can recognise her pain if she imagines her to be in a much more difficult position, someone to help from a higher standing. to confront her from a position of parity would mean to confront that position of parity: that she doesn't have any more material power than leah and her current better treatment stems from a momentary lucky alignment of events over which she has little control. bran and charles are, in their own ways, as unpleasant as leah is, only 1) anna needs them to survive; 2) since they also need her + they are not threatened by her they generally choose to treat her better. i am not saying anna should roll over and let leah treat her however she wants: leah enacts a similar mechanism with anna after all. disliking anna for being treated better is the only valve available to release her anger: it's not like she can accomplish much by going against bran and charles.

necessary prelude for me to say i don't care if leah and anna become fast friends. much as i don't care if leah and charles do. i think this dynamic is interesting even if it remains antagonistic, as long as either immobilism or change follow some logical exploration of this setting. it can truly go either way i would be ok with both.

[ayrtonswnna]

helloo, author-chan! Me again hehe 😊😊

I love how you did my request abt Franco x Senna!reader. I really do, it really shows Ayrton's child-ish character (all thanks to the lord and savior, Gerhard Berger) Hehe.

Anyways, I wanna do another request.

It's for Ayrton himself, but the reader is his childhood friend who's goodbyes from him were like a form of betrayal for her accord and cut ties with him for good when she founds out he got married (which i think you know that his wife and him got divorced but then dated gfs here and there, you'll get my point). UNTIL, she was invited to the paddock in one of the races and she doesn't know he was a F1 driver.

Your plot is your own free will but make it STRAIGHT ANGST to Forgiving at the end, that is if you can ofc. No pressure 😊😊.

Good Luck, Author-chan 😘

ʚɞ a/n: more ayrton content yessss!!!! hey sweetheart, thank you very much!!!!! i am sorry for taking so long to finish your request, but here it is!!

i tried my best to embody your request (and take the challenge) and keep as much as i could of your ideas, added a lot for context and got a bit carried away, but i think it turned out great.

i'm head over heels for angst so here it is!!! hope you like it and thank you for your support!!!!

⠀⠀⠀⠀A LONG TIME COMING 〃 ayrton senna oneshot

ʚɞ ayrton senna x maria de oliveira. (female!oc)

ayrton sees his past right in front of him. a lot has changed.

warnings: ANGST. A LOT OF IT. story takes place in the late 80s/early 90s, it's up to you, author opened wikepedia and chose the first old man in power to be the villain, description of an abusive relationship, character physically and mentally hurt, ayrton saves the day, mention of non-active character death, author in need of therapy (she's picturing dead man as a savior)

Ayrton recognized her the moment he saw her. It wasn’t just her face—it was the memories she brought with her. Childhood afternoons spent running through São Paulo streets, teenage years filled with laughter and long conversations. All of it came rushing back in a heartbeat.

But she had changed.

The tight coils her mother used to braid into intricate hairstyles were now softer curls, looser and more subdued—maybe she straightened her hair sometimes. Gone were the colorful clothes and wide, carefree smiles. In their place were sharp heels, a tailored blazer, and muted tones. It was strange, seeing someone so familiar and yet so different. Could a person change so much and still remain the same?

"Do you know her?"

The question jolted Ayrton from his thoughts. The voice belonged to Jo Ramirez, McLaren’s team coordinator, who was sitting beside him and following his line of sight.

"Who?" Ayrton asked, though he already knew.

"Maria. My girlfriend."

The word hit him like a slap. Girlfriend?

"I—uh—yeah," Ayrton stammered, struggling to keep his tone casual. "Her mom’s Brazilian. Friends with my family. Something like that."

He hesitated before adding, "Isn’t she much younger? Like... twenty-five?"

Twenty-five. Ayrton knew her exact age, knew she’d turn twenty-six on November 3rd. He remembered everything. Her mom from Rio de Janeiro, her dad from England. Their parents’ business ties that had brought them together so often they practically grew up as siblings—until they weren’t anymore.

Until he left.

Jo chuckled, clearly finding the question amusing. "Yeah, something like that. But what’s it to you?"

Ayrton’s lips pressed into a thin line. Jo Ramirez was fifty. Fifty years old. Ayrton thought he knew Maria better than this, thought she’d never go down that road. A man twice her age, with a background so different from hers.

"I mean," Ayrton pressed, "she’s young enough to be your daughter. Don’t you... don’t you find it weird?"

Jo smirked, leaning back in his chair. "No, not at all. That’s the beauty of it. I can put her in her place. However I want to."

The words set off alarm bells in Ayrton’s head, a sinking feeling twisting in his gut. His face must have given him away because Jo laughed, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Relax, man. It’s not what you think. She’s not a kid. And besides," Jo added, his tone turning smug, "you don’t know her anymore. People change."

Ayrton’s gaze shifted back to Maria, standing at the edge of the garage, her expression unreadable. She seemed lost in her own thoughts, her body tense like she didn’t belong there.

Jo’s next words were like knives.

"These girls, man... they’re like having a personal doll. A private paradise. You do what you want, whenever you want. She doesn’t even complain anymore."

Ayrton snapped his head toward him. "What the fuck, Jo? Are you—are you hearing yourself? What the fuck are you even saying?"

Jo just laughed again, as if Ayrton’s reaction was a joke. "Chill out, mate. It’s my girlfriend. None of your business."

But Ayrton couldn’t shake the sick feeling in his stomach. His gaze flicked back to Maria, and for a fleeting moment, their eyes met.

Ayrton’s mind raced, trying to process Jo’s callous words. The jovial tone, the dismissive attitude — it all felt too wrong. He couldn't believe that the Maria he once knew, the vibrant and spirited girl who used to run through the streets of São Paulo with him, could be subjected to this kind of treatment.

The words "personal doll" and "private paradise" echoed in his head, making his stomach churn. They didn’t fit with the Maria he remembered. His Maria, full of life and laughter, had been an equal, not someone who could be reduced to such an object.

“I guess you’re right,” Ayrton said, forcing a casual tone, even as every fiber of his being screamed in protest. “People change.”

Jo laughed again, patting Ayrton on the shoulder. “Exactly. Don’t worry about it.”

As soon as Jo turned his attention elsewhere, Ayrton’s eyes found Maria’s once more. She was standing at the edge of the garage, her body tense, her eyes distant. The sight of her made his heart ache. What had happened to her?

Maria had always been so alive, so full of personality. This version of her seemed almost foreign, like a ghost of the woman he used to know.

It wasn’t just the physical changes. Sure, she had grown into herself, but it was more than that. It was in the way she moved, the way her eyes shifted, constantly looking around, searching for something or someone. She was no longer the carefree girl from their shared past.

Maria hadn’t come to the paddock for him, not really. She was here because of Jo, and she had no intention of rekindling old memories. Her posture was stiff, her eyes flicking nervously, never settling. Ayrton felt the weight of that discomfort in his chest. This wasn’t how he imagined seeing her again.

"An elder?" Jo’s voice broke through Ayrton’s thoughts, pulling him back to the moment. The tone was playful, but there was something off about it. He squeezed Maria's side, just like he had when they were teenagers, poking into her space with a familiarity that made Ayrton uncomfortable. "C’mon, Mariazinha, you’re better than that! I can't believe I'm seeing you again. What happened to your hair? You’ve changed so much!"

Maria’s eyes darkened, and her response was cold, detached. "Grew old, I guess."

Ayrton took a small step back, unsure of how to continue. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. There should have been more. More warmth, more recognition of the bond they once shared. But instead, there was this distance, this wall.

"Yes, could be it," Ayrton murmured. "How are you? How’s mamãe?" He used the term of endearment without thinking, but immediately regretted it. The word felt too intimate for the way things had turned out.

"Watching from above," Maria answered softly, her voice thick with an emotion Ayrton couldn’t place. She took a step away from him, eyes darting around as if looking for Jo.

Ayrton felt a pang of guilt. "I am so sorry," he said, reaching out to her but pulling back when he saw the way she flinched. "Was it... Was it recent? I passed by your house just last week."

Her eyes were cold now, and it stung. "Seven years ago."

Ayrton’s heart sank. He had missed so much. And Maria had been forced to pick up the pieces of a life that he had left behind.

"So, dad?" Ayrton asked, trying to change the subject, his mind reeling. "Bet you’re in England more these days, with Jo and everything."

Maria nodded, but her expression didn’t soften. "Yeah, I guess."

Ayrton noticed the tension in her shoulders, the way she couldn’t quite meet his eyes. There was something in the air between them, something thick and unresolved. "It’s weird, though," he said, trying to ease the situation. "I would’ve never guessed you’d grow into such a quiet adult. You were always so... vocal."

Maria's lips twitched. "I guess life has a way of changing things."

Her words stung, and Ayrton knew they were aimed at him. He had left her. He had walked away without a second thought. And now, all these years later, he was standing in front of a woman who had learned to live without him.

"You found a wife and left," she said, her voice tinged with bitterness. "It’s not like you stayed to know what I’d grow into."

Ayrton winced, his own guilt rising up to choke him. "Yeah, I... I deserve that." He ran a hand through his hair. "I made mistakes. But I’m really happy to see you again. Maybe we could catch up, catch up like old times?"

Maria didn't respond immediately, her gaze flicking toward Jo in the distance. She seemed to hesitate before shaking her head. "I don’t think so. You can’t just leave and come back when you feel like it. This is not how it works. I put my life together without you, and I don’t want to go through that again. It’s already too—" She paused, her throat tightening.

"Too what?" Ayrton pressed, his heart racing. "You put your life together with a fifty-year-old man who talks about you like you're a piece of meat? I don’t understand. I don’t think I’m the complicated part in this."

Maria stepped closer to him, her face flushed with frustration. "Aren’t you also fucking young blond women all around? Why is my life suddenly your business? Jo was here for me when you turned your back on me. I don’t care how he talks, or how complicated it is. He was the one who showed up for me when you didn’t."

Ayrton stood there, his mind racing, but all he could focus on was the bruise on her neck. It was dark, swollen, and fresh. Something inside him snapped.

"Maria... What the fuck?" He reached out to touch her, his hand trembling as he took in the full extent of the mark. "Is this ok? What the hell happened?"

Maria flinched as his fingers brushed the bruise, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she tried to cover it up, pulling her blazer back in place and stepping further away from him.

"I’m fine, stop acting like you care," she said, trying to sound convincing. But it didn’t fool Ayrton.

He couldn’t just stand there and pretend everything was fine. He wasn’t blind to what was happening. He wasn’t going to let this go.

But before he could say anything else, Jo appeared, his voice dripping with possessiveness. "Maria, my love. Looks like you’re catching up with your old friend, huh? I bet he wasn’t all that when you met."

Maria didn’t even look at him as she pulled away, muttering a quiet goodbye. "I’m going back to the hotel, alright? Meet me there, baby."

Jo gave a lazy wave, clearly disinterested, before turning his focus back on Ayrton. "Don’t you dare try anything between me and my girlfriend. You’re my driver, and I call the shots. It’s best you keep your distance from her."

Ayrton didn’t say anything. There was no point. Jo had made his stance clear. He just nodded, but inside, his mind was on Maria and the danger she was in.

"Copy."

It's not like anyone is in control of the situation. It's not like Ayrton could just close his eyes and get to sleep. It's past ten, and there’s no sign of sleep.

Facing Maria after so many years brought a scary amount of new things to the table. Things he thought he had buried as time passed and could live with that way.

But no. Just like his first year alone in the UK, right after Lilian, his wife at the time, dropped him saying she couldn’t keep up with this whole career thing. Just like when he caught himself thinking about how things would have been so different with Maria.

They had history, a background. High school lovebirds and childhood inseparable duo.

Ayrton remembered their weekends together, the ones when she was not traveling to her dad's house. The way she was so bad at speaking Portuguese and would always ask him for translations once he learned English. They took classes together throughout their whole childhood. They used to do everything together.

Karting, beach days, countryside days, summer travels. Birds of a feather, inseparable duo. All the shared birthday parties, the shared beds, breakfasts, school rides. High school years, teenage experiences.

It all seems to come back now. The best and the worst.

Because now Maria is hurt. Physically hurt, probably emotionally too. The sweetest girl he once knew is now hidden in layers of clothing and sharp answers.

It's impossible not to think about the what-ifs.

What if he never left her? What if he had proposed she move to the UK with him and not Lilian? She had a family there, maybe it would have worked out. What if he didn’t kiss her in his parent's backyard for one last time?

These are the type of things that keep men up at night, awake enough to go down to the hotel lobby to maybe get some tea and tire themselves out before sleeping.

As Ayrton descended to the hotel lobby, the dim lighting and soft hum of quiet conversations brought a strange sense of calm. He wasn’t expecting anyone to be there, let alone her.

But there she was, sitting on a leather armchair near the bar, staring at a half-empty glass of wine like it held all the answers to her life.

His feet moved before his brain could stop him. "Maria?"

She startled slightly, her eyes snapping up to meet his. For a second, Ayrton saw the girl he used to know—soft, wide-eyed, and vulnerable. But it disappeared as quickly as it came, replaced by the guarded, distant woman she had become.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice low and tired.

"Couldn’t sleep," he admitted, sliding into the armchair beside her. "And you?"

She scoffed, swirling the wine in her glass. "Guess I couldn’t either."

The silence between them felt heavy, weighed down by years of unresolved feelings and the awkwardness of their earlier conversation. Ayrton couldn’t help but notice how she sat, her posture tense, as if ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble.

"Maria," he started softly, leaning forward, "I need to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me."

She froze, her fingers tightening around the glass.

"Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn’t I be?"

"Coming from what I saw earlier..." he said carefully, his eyes never leaving hers. "And the way you flinched when I tried to touch you. Maria, you don’t have to pretend with me."

Her lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, she looked away, her gaze fixed on the floor. "It’s not what you think."

"It’s exactly what I think," Ayrton said, his tone firm but not unkind. "I’ve known you my whole life, Maria. You don’t have to say it, but I see it. And I know you don’t deserve it."

She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. "What do you know about what I deserve, Ayrton? You left. You walked away like I was nothing. You don’t get to come back now and act like you care."

"I never stopped caring," he said, his voice breaking slightly. "I was stupid, Maria. I made mistakes. But I swear to you, if I’d known—"

"You didn’t," she interrupted, her tone sharp. "You didn’t know because you didn’t stay."

He fell silent, his guilt weighing heavily on him. She had every right to be angry, and he had no defense. But he couldn’t walk away from her again, not now.

"Let me fix it," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "Whatever it takes, Maria. Just let me help you."

She looked at him then, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "There's nothing to fix, Ayrton. You can’t undo what’s already been done."

"Maybe not," he admitted, "but I can give you a way out. You don’t have to stay with him. You don’t have to live like this."

Maria swallowed hard, her hands trembling as she set the glass down. "It’s not how it works, Ayrton, this is not-"

"It is," Ayrton insisted. "You just have to trust me."

A few days later, the team had planned an evening out—a casual dinner to celebrate a successful race weekend. Maria had reluctantly agreed to join, knowing Jo would insist on her presence. Ayrton was there too, his eyes never straying far from her.

Throughout the evening, Jo’s behavior was increasingly abrasive. He held her arm tightly when guiding her to their table, his fingers digging into her skin. He interrupted her when she spoke, belittling her opinions with condescending remarks. Ayrton watched it all, his jaw tightening with every interaction.

The breaking point came when Jo grabbed her wrist in the middle of a conversation, yanking her back toward him. "Stop wandering off," he snapped, his tone low but menacing.

Maria winced, her free hand instinctively moving to cover her wrist. That's not much of him—acting that way where everyone could see it. "Jo," she said evenly, her voice trying to stay calm but laced with a tiny sign of desperation. "Not now."

Promptly, her eyes darted to Ayrton, as if something inside knew he'd be looking. And there he was.

The thing is, Maria isn't the only one who noticed that.

Jo smirked, releasing her as if nothing had happened. "Relax, Ayrton. She’s fine."

But Ayrton wasn’t fooled. His eyes locked with Maria’s, silently communicating what words couldn’t. Later, when the group began to disperse, he caught her arm gently, steering her toward a quiet corner of the parking lot.

"You don’t have to go back with him," he said, his voice urgent. "Get in my car. I’ll take you somewhere safe."

She hesitated, her eyes darting around as if expecting Jo to appear out of nowhere. "I can’t just leave. He’ll—"

"I don’t care what he’ll do," Ayrton interrupted. "You’re not staying with him another night, Maria. I won’t let you."

Her lips trembled, tears spilling over as she whispered, "It's not like... It's not like I can just leave."

"It is," Ayrton said, his voice softening. He cupped her face gently, his thumbs brushing away her tears. "But you’re not alone. I’m here, Maria. I’ve got you."

For a moment, she just stared at him, the weight of her fear and pain threatening to consume her. But then she nodded, a small, shaky movement that sealed her decision.

"Okay," she whispered.

Without another word, Ayrton led her to his car, opening the passenger door for her. As they drove away, the city lights fading behind them, Maria felt a strange sense of relief. For the first time in years, she wasn’t running away—she was being saved.

The sound of the sea outside Ayrton’s beach house was a gentle hum, blending seamlessly with the rhythmic clink of a knife against a cutting board. Maria sat across from him in the kitchen, chopping fruit for a simple breakfast. Ayrton, leaning casually against the counter, pretended to be busy with a task, though his eyes kept drifting to her.

There’s no race this weekend, and he felt like they could use a break. She would never deny a good beach weekend, and it only took a flight.

"This is just like old times," she said softly, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Except now, you’re actually helping instead of sneaking bites every five minutes."

He grinned, playfully snatching a slice of mango from her plate. "Old habits die hard, don’t they?"

She swatted his hand away, laughing lightly, and for a moment, the heaviness that had lingered between them since that night at the hotel seemed to lift.

"So," he started, his tone deliberately casual, "how did you end up in... all of this? I mean, I know about your mom, but... Jo?"

Her smile faltered, and she set the knife down, her fingers idly tracing the edge of the cutting board. "I left Brazil not long after she passed. It was... too much. The house felt empty, and São Paulo didn’t feel like home anymore. I thought a fresh start would help. Then I moved in with Dad, in London."

Ayrton nodded, his expression softening. "Makes sense. You wanted to escape the memories."

Of course! Here's the complete passage, maintaining the original dialogues:

She looked up at him, her eyes glassy but steady. “Exactly. But I didn’t realize that running away wouldn’t fix anything. Jo came into my life when I was at my weakest. He knew what to say, how to act... At first, it felt like he was saving me. I didn’t see it for what it was until it was too late.”

His jaw tightened, and his hands clenched the edge of the counter. “You deserved so much more than that, Maria.”

She offered a sad smile. “I thought I did too. But by the time I realized who he really was, I didn’t know how to get out.”

There was a long pause, filled only by the distant crash of waves. Ayrton walked around the counter and sat beside her, his shoulder brushing hers. “You don’t have to go through that again,” he said quietly. “Not ever.”

Maria looked at him, her eyes searching his face. “You’ve always been like this, haven’t you? Saying just the right thing to make me feel... safe.”

He smirked, leaning in slightly. “It’s a gift. Though I recall you used to say I talked too much.”

She laughed, a genuine sound that made his chest tighten, in the best of ways. “You did. You still do.”

Their laughter faded, leaving a charged silence between them. Ayrton’s hand was on the table, so close to hers that their fingers nearly touched. For a fleeting moment, he thought about closing the gap, about leaning in, about finally—

Maria shifted, clearing her throat and breaking the spell. “We should finish this before the fruit turns to mush.”

Ayrton exhaled sharply, a mix of frustration and amusement. “Right. Breakfast. Very important.”

Later, the sun was dipping low over the horizon when they found themselves on the beach. Maria walked ahead of him, her bare feet sinking into the sand, until she reached the water’s edge. She sat where the waves kissed the shore, her knees pulled to her chest, her arms wrapped around them.

Ayrton stopped a few paces behind her, watching. She always used to do this — sit right where the ocean seemed to meet her. She used to say it made her feel small, but in a good way. Like her problems couldn’t possibly be bigger than the vast sea stretching out before her.

“You’re still doing that,” he said as he sat down beside her.

She glanced at him, her hair tousled by the breeze. “Doing what?”

“Sitting here like this. You’ve always loved the water.”

Maria shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips. “Some things don’t change, I guess.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the sound of the waves filling the space between them. Ayrton shifted closer, his shoulder brushing hers.

“You know,” he began, his voice low and steady, “I wasn’t there for you when I should’ve been. But I swear, Maria, I won’t let anything like Jo happen again. Not as long as I’m around.”

She turned to him, her eyes wide and shining with something he couldn’t quite name. “Ayrton...”

He reached up, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. The gesture was so simple, so natural, that it felt like slipping back into something they’d never really left behind. Slowly, he leaned in, their foreheads almost touching.

This time, Maria didn’t pull away. Their lips met in a kiss that was soft, hesitant, yet filled with unspoken promises. When they parted, Ayrton rested his forehead against hers, his hand still lingering near her face.

“Things can change,” he murmured. “We can change.”

Maria smiled, the first real, unguarded smile he’d seen from her in years. “Maybe they can.”

They stayed there, the waves crashing softly around them, as the sun sank below the horizon, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink.

ʚïɞ check my masterlist 〃 drop a request 〃 featuring ayrton! ʚïɞ ayrtonswnna, 2025

[methoughtsphantom]

Jason “my family doesn’t know im alive” Todd and Danny “my family doesn’t know I’m dead” Fenton going alongside each of their plans my beloved. like Danny will absolutely go head-to-head with all of Gotham to support his new best friend on all his crime lord endeavors while he drags Jason to also attend collage with him. They are roommates and there never seems to a mention of family from either side. It’s an unspoken understanding they have. They met because Crime alley as a ghost lair thrummed with so much loneliness, it was at first the perfect place for Danny to hide his ecto signature in. But then he saw the dumbass whose lair it was lean his motorcycle just a tad too much when making a sharp turn to an alley, he sweeped the floor through a lifted chain link that passed his body but not his helmet. Yep that’s right the red thing got stuck. Danny who at the moment happened to be watching through his window snorted. Much to his horror because if not a ghost that dude could’ve gotten his head flung off.

Still, the scene was ridiculous.

On a whim he irrationally sees the police closing in on the guy and panicked at the thought of the guy using intangibility to free himself so Danny phased them both through his apartment wall and left the guy sprawled in his couch. Jason didn’t freak out but that’s normal when one’s got a concussion, one the guy immediately denied having as Danny laid out the medical supplies. The idiot proceeded to almost flatten four steps to the door with his stubbornness. He also said “I’m asexual” in the most deadpan voice as Danny dropped him back in the couch.

Danny sighed. Clearly though, he’d done so too early in the night because the guy kept trying to go, kept trying to knock Danny out, kept trying to slash him with knifes Danny didn’t know he had stashed. He’d only disarmed the guy from his guns. The visible ones apparently, cause at one point the guy did take out a gun and shoot until the ammo ran out and then teetered the thing like it was an art prop and hit his moon lamp.

Danny "yeah you aren’t officially my friend until you’ve tried to kill me" fenton my guys.

Anyways both keep having the same argument over if Danny technically kidnapped Jason or not. Danny holds the fact that the police at least didn’t see the guy make the ridicule. Jason argued that happened cause he was sporting a concussion. Danny argued he got that after.

Jason at first thinks the guy's a meta, but no. Danny introduces himself, sheepily now that he recognizes this is who the lair he invaded is from. He bandages him and tries to cook for him. If Danny didn’t have ice powers he most certainly would’ve burned the apartment. Jason then proceeds to kick him out of his own kitchen and make them both enchiladas. It’s the most normal both had in a while with another person and the air seems oddly settled. From then on, Jason constantly invited himself over, under the pretense that this was his territory and therefore he could drop in unannounced. Danny who has actual powers says he only allows this because Jason cooks very well.

Danny stays away from the crime fighting business unless his buddy is in deep shit he can’t get himself out. Also it’s Danny’s turn to cover for his vigilante friend which Sam and Tucker give him so much shit for. (but also advice)

And they were roommates. (omg) Danny effectively derails Jason’s big comeback plans by casually dropping ghost lore every two days. Like,

Jason, talking about how he doesn’t want Bats snooping on his territory:

Danny: Just don’t let them in

Jason: ??

Danny: yeah!! Hasn’t Batman died and got revived??? You can totally kick out death touched people you don’t want entering on your lair.

Jason: …I can?

Danny: Yep dude, your lair’s supposed to feel safe.

Jason: wait does that mean I can kick you out?

Danny: First this is my apartment. Second, im dead, not dead touched. Third, it’s too late to get rid of me. bitch.

Anyways Jason is super excited. You mean to tell him he can actually deny people over to his territory haunt?? (Yes it’s only to people who have died and came back but still!! The sample size is exactly the type of people he doesn’t want to see—!)

Joker my beloathed can’t step foot in Crime Alley.

(Jason’d feel a lot safer if the clown was dead but the possibility of his murderer turning into a ghost and their little loophole not applying on the clown is too scary to contemplate.)

Anyways, Jason loves experimenting with the power. It can go from simply making people shudder and not want to enter crime Alley to straight up not letting them enter like there’s an invisible wall blocking the way.

Jason because he’s hurt that Bruce never even patrols Crime Alley and also because he’s petty put B under the category of “invisible wall” blacklist. His reasoning is that the man doesn’t even attempt to enter Crime Alley. To him it’s surely just a place shadowed in tragedy. (anyways that’s it’s the place he met Jason)

Ironically, Jason totally forgets that Batman does venture into Crime Alley one day in the whole year. The day he met Jason.

Okay. He didn’t forget at first. The first year Jason remembers cause it was only a few months till then but then the next— Jason forgets that today’s the anniversary of the day’s Bruce’s parents died. He forgets to allow B in when he feels a slight tug and dismiss the feeling that prompts Bruce to investigate because he literally can’t enter Crime Alley. He starts the trialsTM, he scouts on the very edge and sees people the whole day enter and get out and cross with no problem but Bruce can’t.

It’s literally just Bruce.

Time to call Constantine, i guess.

[tentacleplains]

more scenes that basically everyone sees but pointing out a specific detail i find interesting: "though i hope you don't cause a scene this time" does avery regularly cause scenes at parties?? lmao

[hauntingblue]

WE STILL GOT ARCANEEEEE

[butnobodycame627]

why didn't peridot stay disabled… it would've added to their whole message of being different being okay and diversity and…. sigh….

[disillusionedjudge]

{Hero Archetypes: The More... something version}

The Fallen Hero You are the Fallen Hero, a tragic embodiment of betrayal, vengeance, or perhaps a heart-wrenching love story turned awry. Whether exposed to corrupting influences, manipulated by deal-makers, brainwashed, extorted, blackmailed, or witnessing the destruction of sacred bonds, your descent into darkness is marked by profound sorrow and loss. You might have turned for the sake of greed. Yet within, a lingering spark of hope remains, compelling you to reluctantly extend assistance to the newcomers. Motivated by the sincere desire to shield them from the same tragic fate you endured, you find yourself driven to guide and protect, despite the shadows of your own past.

tagged by: @tarnishedxknight tagging: anyone!!

[nataliedecorsair]

I wanted to give you some of Pticenoga's Borderlands AU backstory, how she was raised by Shade and before starting her shenanigans with Vaughn.

Plus a bonus comic about how she decided to set up a meeting for Vaughn and Shade, but didn't tell Vaughn who is supposed to be there x) Mostly because Vaughn has met Shade before in his macabre World of Curiosities museum and thought that Shade is too weird for him. Well, that's the kind of person that would raise a feral harpy siren, gotta deal with it!

When she was very young, nothing bothered her much as she was just a wild baby exploring the world x) And Shade was a good father figure to her. However, as she grew older, she realized that she doesn't really "fit in": yeah, Pandora is a crazy planet, but not every person there is crazy. There are plenty of "regular folk" like Shade or other people from their town - and many others. And she was frequently called a monster, a mutant and many other things by the regular kids and even adults. She was wild though, could bite them or fight with them in a pretty feral manner, and, even though she protected herself, it didn't help the situation much. She wasn't crazy enough (and too small) to fit in with the psychos or bandits, was "too human" for actual monsters living on Pandora, and for a long time she had no idea she was a Siren, as even for Sirens she looked too different. Only when she hit her teens, she was able to confirm that she is one, started using her powers, and in her human form she could see the full extension of the glowing pattern she had on her skin. She still, however, didn't know why she wasn't born "normal", and there were no older Sirens around.

At some point, she decided to become independent and live on her own. Her "wild" upbringing was helping that a lot, and she felt fine being away from people. She'd still visit Shade frequently, of course, and at some point she'd even met Zer0 and could hang out with him for some time. As Zer0 is a mystery himself, they had some common ground between them (though constantly listening to his haiku were exhausting xD). Sadly, Vault Hunters attract attention, not always positive, and that was the reason why she got spotted by a big bandit gang (could be the beginning of Vallory's gang, but before she took over). And local scientists like Tannis already declared that there may be some connection between Sirens and the Vaults. And they noticed that she's a Siren, but also pretty young (and dumb). After the first Vault on Pandora was opened, there was plenty of weird and valuable stuff around, but it wasn't so easy to get it when you're just regular bandits. And when Eridians, the aliens that are guarding the Vault, are everywhere. The Sirens like Lilith were too strong for them, and hiring a Vault Hunter is expensive, so they decided to wriggle into her favor and use her to gain access to the area. She didn't know she was dealing with bandits first, she naively thought it's a rare case of nice fellows just wanting to be friends and such, plus the Vault could have answers about her origin, and the new "friends" confirmed it.

At some point, she realized she was being used, and got into a fight with the bandits - and lost, as there were too many of them, and she had too little experience, and they knew about Shade. She got kidnapped and told that she'd do everything they told her to do, or they'd kill Shade, so she had to obey. She helped them to fight the way to the Vault and get some of the riches, and during the process she felt that she really does have a connection with Eridians - they boosted her powers and helped her to get free, and kill every presenting member of the gang. She was worried about Shade though, so she left immediately to find him before the remaining members found out what happened and could harm him. But she was too late - the water source in their town of Oasis was poisoned, and every single person there died. Except Shade though - he lasted longer, but dehydration made him insane, and he turned corpses into the stuffed dummies he could talk to (though she didn't have much of a problem with this part). As she was gone for at least several months, he didn't believe she's real, and she had to adapt to the new reality.

She never got back to the Vault after that as she felt it was a source of more trouble than anything good (in her view, the price was too much for a bunch of physical stuff).

That lasted for years, and became a bit easier as her powers, enhanced by the Eridians, wasn't only serving the destruction,  but could eventually "heal" some part of Shade's mind, so the moments of clarity became more frequent (she didn't know it's the reason, though). And you still need money, whether you like it or not, so, when Shade decided to use his World of Curiosities as a spot of illegal deals and smuggling, she didn't resist, but would watch over him in the shadows in case something goes wrong.

Eventually, she calmed down and just embraced herself. And, after some time, she met Vaughn, whose personal struggles she could sense right away, as she had to experience "being different" herself.

[rucow]

having jas (my tes oc who is nerevar's and voryn's daughter) be a direct rival of almalexia is funny bc they both Hate each other and want to throttle one another but they can't. they need to uphold their public image so the only battles they fight are political debates and throwing shade at one another. if they ever get locked in a room together, at least one of them will end up Dead

[novelistwriter]

Phantom Feast

DP x DC Prompt (That came to me while listening to Roar of Dedede)

Lunch Lady, when she was alive years ago, was a famous chef who loved to spread her food around so others could eat. She wanted to bring joy to many who couldn't eat any food daily, Gotham was one of her most frequent places to visit. She was even a mentor to one Alfred Pennyworth when the young man sought her out to learn under her.

No one knows how she died, but since she became a ghost, it had to be violent. It had become her obsession, to feed others and bring joy to them, and to make sure young ones are fed and healthy.

Danny was flying through the Infinite Realms, mind his own business, when he smelled some truly delicious food coming from somewhere. He followed the smell, and it led him to Lunch Lady's Lair, where the Ghost was making food for Boxy and Box Lunch, Food made by using Ectoplasm is one way for Ghosts to gain energy, but not a commonly used way, Boxy loves Lunch Lady too much to care, and Box Lunch will always eat the food Lunch Lady makes, that's her mother.

Danny was outed by his own stomach since he didn't get to eat at all today. His parents had overfilled the fridge with containers of Ectoplasm, again, and Jazz has been trying her best to provide for the family, but she doesn't earn enough with her tutoring to make every day filled with regular food on the table.

Lunch Lady couldn't ignore her obsession, so she allowed Danny to eat with the family, Boxy wasn't about to stop her since he would be denying his loves obsession, and that's something he won't ever want to do. Danny was surprised by how real the Ectoplasmic Food tastes. It's a power Lunch Lady has. Her food made of Ectoplasm is filled with all the nutrients and flavor of real food, but it's only for ghosts and other undead beings to consume. Since Danny is a Halfa, he counts.

Danny spends more time with Lunch Lady and her family after that, mainly to get more food, but it's nice having others to rely on. Like with Alfred, Danny had begun to learn how to cook under Lunch Lady. Even as the Ghost King and a 19 year old, he is visiting Lunch Lady and learning some more recipes to make. Even Lunch Lady is learning some recipes with the same amount of protein and nutrients like her meat recipes, but with no meat or animal products at all.

Cue a reveal gone wrong happening and Danny escapes to Gotham. He gets settled in the Gothic City and decides to open a restaurant, Lunch Lady's stories of her time alive have influenced the Halfa to do so, she said that Gotham always seemed more happier and brighter when she cooked for the residents of the city, and it would help his protection obsession, as he would be protecting people from dying of starving.

Danny had bought a building on the edge of a place called 'Crime Alley' for his restaurant with his Ghost King inheritance, Phantom Feast, and invited Lunch Lady and her family to help him run it. Lunch Lady obviously accepted that offer since it was going to fulfill her obsession, Boxy would get fulfill his obsession with the boxes of food Danny orders.

So now Danny was running his restaurant, and he was slowly gaining regulars for it. News of his restaurant spread like wildfire when an Elderly couple got some food to eat in his restaurant, because when they were kids, their parents took them to a stand with delicious food when a woman came to Gotham to feed them all.

And now an Elderly Butler is hearing the rumors of a restaurant with food that tastes just like the food of the woman who fed Gotham because she wanted to. He is going to it to verify for himself if it's just like his mentors food.

[sunderwight]

Bingqiu AU where Luo Binghe's the chosen village sacrifice to the evil deity who lives up the mountain.

Normally the village sends maidens, but they've more or less run out of expendable girls of the right age and, ahem, "virtues". So of course Luo Binghe's early life bad luck kicks in. In the wake of his mother's death there's no one to really care about what happens to him, he's fairly pretty, and the village leaders decide that if they dress him up like a girl the teenaged homeless kid should pass well enough. And hey, y'know, he's probably got a hard life ahead for him anyway -- dying in a brothel of some venereal disease or on the streets of exposure or starvation. At least as a sacrifice, everyone else gets to benefit from his loss! And the kid will get added to a shrine and be remembered as a hero! If anything, he should be happy about this!

Binghe is not happy about this.

But he's also a skinny underfed nobody who is easily overpowered, dressed up like a bride, and tied to a post. So. Not much he can do but wait for the evil deity to come and do whatever horrible thing he's gonna do to him.

Meanwhile, Shen Yuan is pretty sure he's been isekai'd into the over-powered hero of some kind of supernatural adventure story? He's not totally sure because he doesn't recognize the setting, but the signs are there. He's got a shrine-like base of operations (though it seems to have become corrupted/ruined, probably he has to restore it somehow), he has a very resilient and handsome new body with spiritual energy of some kind flowing through him, and a very clearly magical sword. Plus lots of neat starter powers! Though it feels like he has other abilities that have been blocked somehow? Probably he has to level up in order to access them.

When he treks out of his "base" and finds what seems to be a distressed maiden, he takes it for his beginner hero mission. The girl claims that she's been doomed to be sacrificed to an evil god. That sounds a little above Shen Yuan's pay grade for dealing with, so he unties her and decides that they had better just get out of the whole region altogether. He already packed up anything useful from his base, anticipating he might get caught up in an adventure once he left, so they follow the river away from the settlement until they reach another one.

While they travel, Luo Binghe tells Shen Yuan about the cursed deity, Shen Qingqiu, who was cast out of the heavens for slaughtering one of his brethren and has apparently being do-who-knows what to maidens from the local village in exchange for his "protection" ever since. Sounds like a real asshole! And also mid-level boss type bad guy at least. Shen Yuan hopes he doesn't have to fight him, but he probably will.

Thank goodness he found Binghe, though! Clearly the helpful little sister type! He's definitely going to require her assistance if he's going to figure out how to navigate this world and level up his skills enough to take on a god.