#side note with old weird laws:

[ohbo-ohno]

hey hey heyyy saw this and thought of youuu

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT83xLH3c/

(completely sfw don't worry) but like, Imagine for one reason or another you desperately need to get married (maybe to qualify for your medieval grandpa's will) but no one wants you for whatever reason so you promptly go down to the gallows where this murderous ex Soldier was to be executed and you are just "he'll do" not aware that he comes as a package deal with his partner who didn't get caught 👀

are you. are you joking. oh my god

thinking about a woman who's got a terrible home life. i feel like either her parents want to marry her off to some guy who's like 80 or they treat her like a workhorse and are super abusive

and to her, quite literally Anything is better than the life she's stuck in. and for a woman in this time period the only real way to escape is to get married. and since no one will marry her (she's poor and everyone knows how her family is).... well there's really only one choice

she definitely proposes to soap, not ghost. the man getting dragged to the gallows is perfectly at ease - shoulders rolled back, easy smile on his lips, you would never think he's being led to his death. there's something in his over all demeanor that makes it almost easy to jump from the crowd and shout a proposal

he's excited, almost ferally so. he grabs your wrist and holds tight, doesn't let you get even a full armlength away from him. that's when you start to think maybe this was a mistake, but it's far too late now. he's also weirdly insistent about the two of you going to a very specific room in a very specific hotel (or whatever they used to be called)

you get a bit more scared every second that goes by, but you're well aware what a man expects on his wedding night - you grew up on a farm, you know how animals mate. it's scary, of course, but you know you'll have to bear it

except when you get to the room, he doesn't try and take you. you know he wants to - there's a tent in his pants that makes your face flame - and he keeps you flush against him. he sits at the table? you're in his lap. you try to go to the bathroom? he stays so close to you that you decide it's not worth the potential humiliation.

he talks your ear off the whole time - tells you how pretty you are, goes into frankly excessive detail about what he likes about every single part of you, tells you how he wants to "stuff you full", says things like "'m not so bad, kitty, know ye must be scared but i'll take care of ye, don't worry" and "just wait til he gets here, then we can get started" and no matter how much you ask who he is he refuses to tell you

he has his mouth pressed against you throat (switching between licking, biting, and talking about how he can't wait to see what's under your skirts) when the door opens, and you realize that you've truly made a mistake

the new man who walks in has to duck beneath the door frame, he's so massive. had he been the one walking to the gallows, you never, ever would have proposed. he's got to be twice the size of you, his face covered, the rest of him filthy and covered in dirt

(((if i had the energy i'd write dialogue here, but anon i am sleepy)))

soap would be soooooooo happy to present you to ghost, is literally drooling and beaming as he grabs you by the hips and hooks his chin over your shoulder, big hands stroking across your stomach and skirts as he says isn't she so pretty?

anyways. you're getting railed that night. hope you like being on the run with two criminals who have absolutely no intention of crossing over to the light side!!

(ghost fucks you first, bc soap needs to learn to be patient with his new toy, but he lets you suck his cock while he waits for his turn. when soap fucks you next, you're laying on ghost's stomach and he wipes away your pretty tears as johnny does his best to break your back. the next day johnny laughs when you're walking with a small limp, and ghost makes him apologize with his tongue <3)

[sheep-from-rad]

Note: This is supposed to be a whole headcanon fanfic for everyone but I lost the plot after my brain decided a weird headcanon about Jason.Also I’m eating crackers with leftover pasta sauce because I ran out of spaghetti noodles. Note Note: I’m using motorcycle laws from my country so I don’t know if it fits in your place Masterlist divider by: @strangergraphics and @strangergraphics-archive Also I have a question: If I write a Jason Todd x reader series, would you guys read it?

“This is ridiculous Todd. There is barely any room in this side car” Damian protested, arms crossed with a dark green helmet on. He sat near the sidecar’s mini door, trapping you between him, Jason, Tim and the motorbike’s engine as if fearing that you’ll jump off when on red light. 

You thought that running away from the mansion and starting anew was a power move. Well, it was a power move but you completely disregard the fact that your family is composed of vigilantes with a former MI6 agent as a butler. The moment they learnt that you left was the same moment they got your location and started dropping by like a bunch of stray cats at your doorsteps. 

It started with Jason becoming your roommate (it’s like he knows your rent hiked up and you need a roommate or you’ll be forced to take more shifts), Dick’s patrol change and frequent drop bys to restock the pantry and Tim becoming your classmate (he says the course intrigues him but you know he already had that course learnt before). Your nights aren’t safe as well, if you’re not being followed home and then you’re suddenly waking up in the middle of the night to find yourself being cuddled to sleep by Damian and Bruce. 

And when you thought it can’t get even more ridiculous, this month Jason came back to the apartment with one of his old motorbikes modified with a two-seater sidecar and more helmets. 

“I told you, Gotham laws only allow one backride and you’re a minor. You don’t even have classes today” Jason interjected. He made a quick turn in a safe alleyway to escape the traffic and while doing so his other hand reached to check the seatbelts on the carseat. “You got all your stuff right? I won’t be able to go back and forth now since I have a patrol waiting.” You only answered a lazy ‘yeah’  at his question. Ever since they learnt you leave, they came to your door and started playing siblings and honestly it just feels weird. Sure you pined for that bonding but doing it now when you already have your heart close. 

“Since when did you adhere to the laws and isn’t Drake a minor as well?”, Damian pointed at the sleepy Tim behind Jason’s back. The teen is strapped on Jason’s back with an adult version of a baby leash, drinking coffee and eating donuts you guys got from the drive thru. “Wait, do you even have a driver’s license?” 

“Well, I have Dick’s driver’s license and Tim can reach the foot peg of the bike.”

“(Name)” Jason called, making you stop from walking. Tim stopped as well, opting to wait for you so you two can walk together to class.

“What is it?” 

You turned around to find him pulling a couple of folded hundreds from his pocket and depositing it in your hand. “What is this for?” A bribe? Is he paying you because he wanted a ‘sibling bonding time’ again? 

“This month’s rent. Bruce already bought the apartment buildings so he wants you to have the month’s rent back” 

Well shit.

dang I got so used to writing in headcanons I forgot how to write reader dialogues.

[beardedmrbean]

Transgender advocates are pushing back on activists who resort to “unreasonable” tactics, with some admitting they “cannot vilify” critics — as support among Americans for their biggest issues plunges.

Transgender rights came in dead last in a Gallup poll that asked 2024 voters to rank the 22 issues that factored into their ballot decision, with 36% of survey respondents rating them “not important.”

Drilling down into polling on specific issues — such as transgender bathroom policy, trans athletes competing in female sports and laws allowing gender-questioning youth to procure medical sex change treatment — reveals support from many Americans is waning.

Some LGBTQ activists recently told the New York Times they believe the worrying dip in support is attributable to the zealotry of the movement, which emphasizes shame and forced compliance while discouraging any critical debate.

“We have to make it OK for someone to change their minds,” Rodrigo Heng-Lehtinen, executive director of Advocates for Transgender Equality, told the outlet.

“We cannot vilify them for not being on our side. No one wants to join that team.”

Advocates cited tactics — such as stripping distinctions of “male” or “female” from abortion and childbirth topics, being fanatical about pronoun use and likening even unintentional misidentification of a trans person to an act of violence — has not helped grow their coalition of allies.

“No one wants to feel stupid or condescended to,” Heng-Lehtinen acknowledged.

Rethinking how the issue is advocated has also become a part of the Democrats’ ideological reckoning following their decisive loss in this year’s election.

The Trump campaign seized on Vice President Kamala Harris’ past support for taxpayer-funded sex change operations for prisoners, and turned her pushing of LGBTQ issues into one of the most effective campaign ad slogans of the election: “Kamala is for they/them. I am for you.”

Even a small group of Democratic members of Congress have started testing the waters in defiance of the trans lobby.

“Here we are calling Republicans weird, and we’re the party that makes people put pronouns in their email signature,” said Rep. Seth Moulton (D-Mass.).

His office was protested by trans activists after he suggested transgender athletes competing against biological females could have an advantage or even injure other competitors — which has happened and continues to happen.

Tufts University’s science department chair purportedly claimed that the school would be cut off internships with Moulton’s office over his concerns, but the Boston institution quickly clarified that was not the case.

Mara Keisling, founder of the National Center for Transgender Equality, pointed the finger at activists for devoting so much energy to debating losing issues.

Among them, she told the Times, were the demonization of “Harry Potter” author JK Rowling for her stance against the encroachment of biological males into female spaces, and pretending that any objections to transgender women in sports are invalid and rooted in discrimination.

The issue of sports, in particular, Keisling noted, was an instance where Americans moved away from sympathizing with trans activists.

“We looked unreasonable,” she told the outlet. “We should be talking about the 7-year-old who just wants to play soccer with her friends.”

[syrupfog]

Tired, tired barista Law. Works in the coffee shop at the heart of campus where the line is always out the door and the drinks are so sugary it makes him physically ill to pump the syrups. He's the shift lead though so he has to pull the longest hours and cover anyone out sick. 

He's just. Tired all the time. But it's fine, he just has to keep his grades up and keep his job and get into the fellowship he's after and then it'll be smooth sailing to get onto the night shift at the hospital he wants and work his way up to day shift it's fine.

Honestly the biggest problem he deals with is the store manager, Doflamingo. Once, a year ago at this point, Law had mentioned that he would have to leave his position if he managed to get the receptionist position at the university hospital. It would've given him connections.

But apparently the mere idea that Law would be willing to leave, to no longer work under Doffy, was betrayal enough. He's been... off. Ever since. At the very least, Law knows he's never getting a raise again. He'll be lucky if he's not framed for stealing from the till.

One morning, after an especially rough clopener where Law found himself cleaning literal shit off the bathroom walls multiple times, Doffy comes in to inform him that he's going to have to stay until close because he’s declaring an emergency shift lead meeting.

Law has two midterms and a lab due within forty eight hours, but he needs the money and as much as he'd like to in this moment, he can't just walk out on the job. He nods, stiffly, and goes back to creating the worst latte art of all time.

It's for a regular. He comes in almost every day, orders lattes, and then DOESN'T DRINK THEM. He insists on the drinks that are the most annoying to make (Law's good at hearts but he's started turning them into dicks out of annoyance) and then he doesn't EVEN DRINK THEM.

He just sits in one of the plush chairs in the corner until his drink is cold and then leaves, waving at Law with a big smile on his face like they're old friends. 

It's weird. Law doesn't trust it. 

Of course, as Bepo says, Law doesn't trust much of anyone these days.

And as Penguin says, that's probably because he hasn't slept more than 3 hours in a night in two years. 

And as Shachi says, damn. That's fucked up, dude. 

Finishing the latte (the art is a dick, there's no denying it), Law pushes it across the counter to the regular.

His straw hat is pushed back, giving Law a view of his wide, wide eyes and general overexcited look. 

"Thanks!" he says, taking the drink and blowing on it, instantly sloshing foam over the side. 

Law rolls his eyes and goes back to the ever growing line of customers.

The day doesn't pass quickly, but it ends eventually as all things must. Law is dead on his feet, sweeping the same spot of floor with stained mocha powder for almost ten minutes before Bepo, sanitizing the espresso machines, takes pity on him.

"You should go," he says. "I can finish cleaning up. Go get some real sleep." 

Law rubs at his eyes. "No, it's fine," he says. "Actually, you should go. Doffy's making me stay for a shift lead meeting so I'll be here regardless." 

Bepo does not look happy with that answer.

But Law's his boss, technically. Law grits his teeth and checks another closing chore off the list. 

He knows Doffy's upstairs in his office, but it does slowly dawn on him that he's seen no other shift leads coming in. There's four of them, and yet... 

Odd.

All he can concentrate on at this point, is that the sooner he gets done the sooner he can go home. Home. Where his bed is, and more importantly his notes for O Chem. 

He shoos Bepo off home when the only thing left to do is inventory. Moving slow, he grabs the clipboard and makes his way into the walk-in, propping the door behind him. 

Scones, muffins, cheesecakes... It's dark in here, and Law realizes he's left his phone on the counter. He can't tell what's blueberry and what's chocolate chip. 

He's just about to turn around and grab it when the door of the walk-in slams shut. 

Law freezes. 

He'd propped that door open, right? It wouldn't just close like that. 

The walk-in door doesn't lock, for like. Security purposes. He goes and pushes against it, only to find resistance. Not like it's latched, but like like someone's barricaded the door. 

Law grits his teeth. This isn't good. 

It's cold in here, he has no phone, and Bepo's already gone. If he listens, he can hear someone's footsteps, the scraping of chairs. 

It feels like overreacting to yell. To react at all.

But— he's cold. he's in his uniform, and a short sleeve polo doesn't do much when one is locked in a freezer. Is this one of the shift leads playing a prank? Kid wouldn't be organized enough to try this. Apoo might... 

His chattering teeth eventually win out over his pride.

"Hello?" he yells. "I'm still in here!" 

There's a beat of silence, and then slow, steady footsteps. 

"I know," says a voice that is distinctly Doffy's. "And you'll keep being in there, until you learn your lesson." 

"What the fuck," Law spits. "What fucking lesson?"

"I saw your papers, Trafalgar," Doffy says. "I know you're applying to that summer internship program." 

Law is. He doesn't have a shot in hell of getting in, doesn't have the connections. He's still applying, though. "So what?" 

"You're my best shift lead," Doffy says.

"You're my best worker altogether. It would be ridiculous to abandon me now." 

Law was always going to abandon him. This is a coffee shop. He's not planning on working clopeners the rest of his life. "Let me out, Doffy," he says. His nose is icy. His hands are in his armpits.

"I'll give you a night to think on it," Doflamingo says. "Maybe you'll make better decisions in the morning." 

Law knows very well that he won't survive in a freezer overnight. He's not even wearing socks inside his boots, the cold is already numbing his ankles.

"Stop!" he yells as he hears Doffy's footsteps receding. "Wait! I'll-- I'll cancel the application!" 

The footsteps return. Then Doflamingo laughs. "You can't fool me like that," he says, still chuckling. "I'll give you the night to REALLY reflect on it."

His footsteps recede again and Law shudders out a breath. This is bad. 

He tries the door, pushing with all his strength, until his shoulder is freezing against the metal, but it doesn't budge. He tries pacing, but it's pitch dark in here. He breathes onto his hands for warmth.

He's so cold. So cold. It's been barely any time at all and he's already feeling desperate. Did Doffy lower the temperature? 

He wonders if the door is barricaded well enough that he should be worried about running out of air.

Squatting down, he tries to wrap his apron around himself, but even that is already freezing. it's wet, too, from a spill he'd been cleaning up. 

Law's thoughts drift against his will to home. He thinks about all he did to escape everything. How it wont have made a difference.

How he'll be found in the morning, how the newspapers will say that he is succeeded by no kin, because everyone else has been gone for two decades. 

He should've quit months ago. 

The thing is, is Law is so tired. He was already tired. And now he's cold, and it's dark.

And he knows he shouldn't go to sleep, but— it seems easier. It would be so much easier than having to deal with the numbness in his hands and feet, the way his eyelashes stick to his cheeks. 

But he knows he shouldn't. Knows he should be doing something.

And as a last ditch effort— he knows no one can hear him. Knows Doflamingo will laugh— as a last ditch effort he screams. 

He screams until his throat hurts. Screams until he's coughing from the cold. 

Wordless screams that draw the last of his strength, steal his warmth.

He falls into unconsciousness as the last of his breath is ripped from his cold lungs.

Darkness is welcoming. 

He floats in it. The cold is still there, but muted now. 

He had been so tired. For so long.

Suddenly, Law is pulled back to consciousness, painfully, like ripping a bandaid off of a wound. 

There's light in the walk-in. He feels it on his eyelids. When he cracks open his eyes, he's hit with blinding light. Is this heaven? If it is, it's pathetic.

But with the light comes a wave of warmth, not enough to help him, but enough for him to notice. 

And with the warmth comes arms, strong arms, roughly hoisting him around his middle, dragging him out and onto the blessedly warm tile floor of the back room.

"Traffy?" a voice says. "Traffy! Hey!" 

Someone slaps his face. 

"Fuck!" Law yells, putting a hand to his cheek. He still cant really feel anything in his fingers. The blindingly bright light is clearing enough that he can see the silhouette of someone standing over him.

GOD he hopes it's not Doflamingo. 

But that voice didn't SOUND like Doffy. 

"Traffy! You're alive! Do you have hypno thermia?" 

"Hypothermia," Law mumbles. "Who the fuck is Traffy?"

"That's what your nametag always says!" 

Law's nametag says Trafalgar. He knows it.

"How-- Where's Doflamingo?" 

"That tall guy who locked you in here?" 

Law's vision finally comes into focus and he startles at the sight of the regular with the straw hat. "Yeah," he says. "Him." 

"I dunno, I saw him leave a while ago." 

Law flexes his fingers in search of warmth

"What do you mean you saw him leave? Why are you here?" Are you a part of this? he doesn't say. 

Straw Hat doesn't look at all embarrassed when he says, "I was hiding in the bathroom. You guys never check it at the end of the night." 

Law gapes at him. "Why?" he asks.

"I dunno, I mean most places do and I was honestly surprised you guys don't, but--" 

"Not-- you do this a lot?"

Straw Hat grins. "Yeah! My roommate kicks me out whenever he wants to have sex, which is like every night at this point. So I've been sleeping here. Chairs're comfy."

Well that's. Better than it could be, honestly. 

Law tries to refocus. He probably IS hypothermic. What's he supposed to do for that? Body heat? 

"You said Doffy left?" he asks. 

Straw Hat nods. "Yeah! A while ago! It took me a bit to get all that stuff off of the door though. Like, he's strong! He pushed a whole refrigerator in front of it!" 

Dear lord, he really had been trying to kill Law. 

Shit. Doffy knows where Law lives. 

Law can't go home. 

"Anyway, I think you're hypno thermomic," Straw Hat says. "And you probably need, like, a hot bath."

Okay Law does know that will kill someone with hypothermia. He remembers that much. "I can't go home," he says, still trying to process. "He knows where I live." 

"Oh," says Straw Hat. "You can come home with me! My roommate is a cook, he'll help."

"Your roommate kicked you out to have sex," Law points out, dazedly. 

Straw Hat shrugs. "This is more important," he says, and like. Well Law can't argue with that. 

He tries to sit up and his limbs listen a little, but Straw Hat steadies him anyway.

"Not that I don't appreciate the help," Law says, "But I shouldn't just impose. I can-- I'll call my coworker, my phone's around here somewhere." 

"Oh," says Straw Hat. "Is that it?" 

He points to a spot on the floor where Law finds his phone. 

Smashed. 

Into several pieces.

He does NOT have the money for a new one. 

"Oh my god," he whines. 

"Come on," Straw Hat says. "Let's go to my place. We can build a fire!" 

"Do you have a fireplace?" 

"No!" 

Law still can't feel his hands or feet. "Listen," he says. "Just- why do you never drink your lattes?"

Shockingly, Straw Hat looks embarrassed at this, gaze shifting nervously. "Because," he says. "They're really gross." 

"Why do you get them, then?" Law demands. 

"The first time I came in, I asked what to get and you said a latte because you're good at hearts!"

Christ. Law has... no memory of that. 

Straw Hat crosses his arms, looking petulant. "It's not my fault they taste gross." 

Law's throat is raw and he's probably got frostbite on his penis like that prince. "I'll make you something you actually like," he says. "Next time."

Straw Hat perks up. "Next time?" 

"If I live through the night," Law adds. "And. Not next time here. I'm quitting this job." 

Straw Hat nods. "Good. That guy was mean, I think." 

Then, without informing Law of his plan, Straw Hat turns around and pulls him onto his back.

Everything in Law hurts at this, but he also doubts he could've walked wherever they're going. 

Straw Hat is shorter than him, but he's jarringly strong. 

"Hey," Law says. "If you murder me, I'll kill you." 

He feels Straw Hat laughing through his teeth.

The actual straw hat's brim is pushed up against Law's cheek. 

"Don't worry," Straw Hat says. "I want you to make me a better drink!" 

He carries Law across campus to a rickety old dorm. 

Law listens to him talking about all of his friends and also his favorite bugs.

He makes sure that Straw Hat does NOT draw him a hot bath or make a fire in the dorm, but he does accept skin-to-skin warmth, which does wonders. The hot tea made by his cranky roommate also helps. 

Tomorrow, he's going to have to press charges, probably. And get a new phone.

Tonight, he's sharing a bed with the weirdest guy he's ever met. 

Life is sort of okay.

[l-in-the-light]

About Trafalgar Law and his vitiligo

Feel free to ignore this post if you so wish, but I chose to speak up on this matter. I have seen so many fanarts that portray Law with his white skin patches, often looking like a dalmatian and it bothers me. Are you all aware that animal-like patterns for vitiligo are considered insulting? And you all might look at me weirdly now and ask "how can something so cute/wholesome/unique possibly be bothersome to anyone?!" Read further on your own risk, slight tmi.

Law's disease is of course fictional. Visually it looks the closest to vitiligo, but it has a lot in common with autoimmune skin diseases as well. I happen to know how it's like to live with a skin disease. Meds for my condition aren't really for curing anything, they just make the symptoms dimnish, but in return they leave white patches on my skin that are resistant to tanning for a long while (also those meds are very dangerous for your kidneys apparently if used too often, as a side note). Why would anyone use them? Well, because it's a hereditary skin condition: it never goes away and there's no way to cure it, those meds are literally the only thing that does anything. I just get lucky whenever symptoms aren't visible for some time until they inevitably come back anyway. And believe me, this isn't "wholesome", "cute" or "unique" to have discolored skin patches. You all probably have no idea (why would you have anyway, it's natural that you don't) how it's like in summer, when you go on a bus or tram, you wear a t-shirt because it's freaking hot and you can't hide under the clothes or you risk melting or fainting. And people see your discolored skin or red patches on your skin. You know how they react? They stare at your hands/arms and then they move away. That's the default reaction whenever your skin looks unusual. People would rather move away, just in case it's something contagious. They will also stare, a lot, and you can feel it's judgemental, even though my condition is in no way my own fault (or anyone else's who also has it), thank you very much.

That being said, I doubt Law would be happy parading openly with white patches visible on his skin. Most people wouldn't realize that's it's just a leftover from his old, cured disease. They would simply assume what people always assume: that it's something contagious. Evidence below, if you need it:

And Law's reaction to their reaction:

He doesn't look very happy, of course.

People would isolate him, avoid him and *stare* disrespectfully at him like he's a weird specimen, at best. Law would quickly learn to hide it under his clothes, long sleeves, long pants, gloves etc. No one truly wants to attract negative attention like this, especially not someone who already went through a lot of traumatic experiences, like Law. And sure, as a child he didn't really hide it:

But take into account those are the clothes he was wearing ever since Flevance happened. He didn't have any other clothes. As soon as he's accepted as part of Doflamingo's family he starts to wear different ones, and he covers up the spots on his arms by wearing long sleeves:

And oh boy, I can totally relate to that.

Sure, in ideal world, no one would assume Law has a disease just because his skin is discolored. But we're not living in ideal world. Some people, just like me, have hereditary skin conditions and feel bothered by fanarts that exoticize skin disease or skin disorder. Yeah sure, why does it matter, Law is a fictional character with fictional disease, right? But vitiligo is very similar to this and is a real condition which is part of life of real people. Those aren't freckles that are just cute and make you look unique (and some people might have freckles and still hate the extra attention drawn towards it, and it's valid if they feel like that!).

Just wanted to get that off my chest. I don't need sympathy for my disease, this is not why I wrote this post. I just wish people would realize that by drawing a vitiligo Law they're toying with a lot of emotional baggage there, please treat it respectfully. Maybe one day the world will be wholesome enough to think of it as normal (normal, not fetishized, ugly, contagious or exotic!), but I assure you it still doesn't. If you think it's just a "me" thing, check out this blog: https://www.tumblr.com/vitiligo-is-not-a-trend/765530242896003072 and many other posts of theirs. Not everyone with skin conditions might react the same way, but keep in mind people with actual vitiligo and skin diseases can and often will be really sensitive about it, and for a good reason.

Yes, that being said I also think it's wholesome if Luffy accepts vitiligo spots on Law easily like it's not a big deal, especially in comparison to the rest of the world which would fear him instead. It's definitely something Luffy would do. But that's completely different from fetishizing it. Please, you're stepping on a thin line here, tumblr.

[stealingyourbones]

Here's a cursed ship:

Danny Fenton, out of his parent's grasp, now as an adult, goes to explore rumours of some rotten ectoplasm somewhere in some place called Nanda Parbat.

There he meets the one person that came the closest ever to killing him. Her sword was already in his very human chest before he transformed on instinct, barely avoiding a very painful injury that could've threatened his core.

Naturally, what is a guy to do? Fall head over heels, and gift her with a newly purified pool of ectoplasm that can help heal injuries without the Rage and Madness. Maybe gift her a throne of starlight after he deals with her manipulative old bastard father.

Oh, she has a kid from a prior relationship? Well, if she's ok with it, he'll do his best to help her raise him.

The League shift from indiscriminate murder to more Assassin's Creed-like "maintaining Balance" ideals.

Naturally, this confuses the Bats. They come to investigate.

No one was expecting to see Talia al Ghul sitting on a very comfy-looking throne, with an unknown but clearly powerful guy sparring against a small Damian, while the kid looks like he's having the time of his life.

Of course, as soon as their presence is noted, he's at Talias side, holding the tiny kid in his arms as she delivers her speech.

Oh, he's King of the Infinite Realms? Yeah, but this is the Living Realm, so he's going to defer to his Queen.

Talia initially tried plotting to take the Crown from Danny, but Ember and Kitty (who I headcanon both having dated Danny at different points of his life) laugh as if she told them a joke, and Grandpa Clocky takes his new Granddaughter-in-law aside to show her how her betrayal and manipulation would bring about Dan, stopping that plan in it's tracks then and there.

Ellie floats into the room in the middle of their discussion, and to add further confusion for poor Brucie, scoops up Damian and loudly announces she's taking her half-brother out for ice cream (female clone, from a boy's DNA? Yeah, Talia's DNA was exactly what was needed to stabilise her permanently).

Bruce is in a crisis.

Jason is laughing his ass off, now that Danny took the rotten ectoplasm out and put in fresh ecto in it's place, and he can properly appreciate the situation, especially how Danny looks like he could be related to Bruce, so naturally Talia also has a type.

Tim is three seconds away from asking for his spleen back.

Cass is dangling from Danny's shoulders after, in classic Ghost customs, she tried to attack him as an introduction. She's fine being carried like a sac of flour, Jason does that with her, too.

Dick, Duke, Steph and Babs stayed behind to protect Gotham, but Babs is always watching and/or listening, and she's a horrible gossip.

It's also Jason that comes to the horrifying realization that, the reason why Danny is still with Talia, is because Ghost culture is weird enough to be normal for the League, he's a similar type of dumbass as Bruce, without the elaborate revenge plot, AND he's a simp for women who could kill him.

Essentially: Danny is the cute lovable dumbass, who's Into That when his Love Interest has the capacity to easily kill him or snap him in half, if it weren't for the Ghost thing. And Ghost instincts are the kind of feral that Damian vibes with, so Damian likes this random guy Talia found on their doorstep, who's so stupid and yet competent he comes back around to being attractive, and is Commited to his new family.

I have yet to hear a friendly stepdad(?) Danny prompt before and I am loving it

[zegrasdrysdale]

Hey bae I have another request for Jamie. Reader goes home for thanksgiving and Jamie wasn’t able to go with her. Long story short he ends up surprising her at her family home, and proposes

[ your last name ] j. drysdale

paring : Jamie Drysdale x fem!reader

summary : Jamie surprises (Y/N) for Thanksgiving, in more ways than one

warning(s) : none :)

author’s note : happy thanksgiving my loves ! grateful for every single one of you ! don't forget to fill out this form if you want to be added to the taglist !

༺═──────────────═༻

Thanksgiving this year feels different because Jamie isn’t coming with her to dinner at her parents’ house.

Jamie said that his family wanted to see him so he flew home to see them two days ago. He didn’t know if he would be back in time to go to Philly with her for dinner. They've been together for four year now and this is the first Thanksgiving since they started dating that he won't be with her for dinner.

He told her to go without him because it's one of the only times during the year that she gets to see her parents, her siblings, her in-laws, and her nieces and nephews. She wishes that Jamie could've come with her but she understands that he can't be with her this year.

(Y/N) loves her family, but every year they ask her when Jamie is going to marry her. Especially after the second year she brought him with her. This year, she gets to face those questions all by herself.

She Ubers from Philadelphia International to the Fishtown section of Philadelphia when she flies in the morning of Thanksgiving. She's staying only one night so she has a duffel bag with her.

Traffic on 95 is insane, which is understandable considering people are traveling. It takes her nearly an hour to get from the airport to her parents' house. She's texting back and forth with Jamie the entire time to make the ride go faster.

jd ♡ - 10:23 am i know. i wish i could've come with you too. tell everyone i say hi and that i wish i could've been there. i'll see you when we both get back to anaheim, okay?

i love you

She writes back an "I love you too" as the Uber pulls up to the house.

There are already a bunch of cars parked in the driveway and up the street. Some she recognizes and some she doesn't.

(Y/N) thanks the driver as she gets out with her bag. He drives off to pick up another person and she stands outside of the house with her bag over her shoulder. She sighs and walks up to the front door.

Footsteps sound on the other side of the door after she knocks. Her mother stands in front of her when the door swings open.

"(Y/N)!" she exclaims as she throws her hands around her daughter. "My youngest baby. Come on in. Everyone is already here. They're all very excited to see you."

Almost on cue, her oldest niece comes running to the door. "Aunt (Y/N)!" she yells as she wraps herself around (Y/N)'s waist. She looks around her body. "Where's Uncle Jamie? Is he coming?"

She frowns and shakes her head. "Not this year," she tells her niece. "He went to go see his family up in Canada this year. He sends all his love though and wishes he was here. He misses everyone."

"Okay," her niece sighs. "Can we call him later though? So we can say hi to him?"

"Of course we can," (Y/N) tells her. "Wanna help me unpack my things? You can get your cousins too and we can all go upstairs to my room to unpack."

Her eight-year-old niece happily nods and goes running back inside. She yells the names of all her cousins that are in the house. (Y/N)'s mom still stands beside her. "It's going to be weird without him here," she comments. "Will you see him tomorrow before his game?"

"I don't know," she admits. "I hope so. It feels like he's been gone for a while when it hasn't even been a week. It sucks when he isn't around but it's his job and he never gets to see his family so I get it, I guess."

"It sounds like it's starting to get to you," her mom tells her. "Him not being around a lot, I mean. Especially during the season."

"It doesn't matter if he isn't around a lot," (Y/N) sighs. "I love him and he loves hockey. Jamie and hockey come as a package deal, and I knew that going in. Sometimes I just miss him, especially around the holidays."

(Y/N)'s mom rubs her arm. "It'll be okay," she says. "Go get settled. I'm going to start making the cake soon and I know you like helping with that."

Her heart falls into her stomach. She and Jamie always make and bake the cake when they get to her parents' house. It's the reason they fly in extra early on Thanksgiving.

Without another word, (Y/N) heads upstairs to her bedroom.

Over the years as she's grown up, her parents have updated the furniture in her room but have kept the same decorations. The bed got bigger right before she moved to California for college. They got her a bigger vanity while she was in high school because she decided to wear makeup starting in her junior year.

She adds a few pictures to her wall collection every time she comes home. Mostly of her and Jamie, but her and her California friends and her and her friends from home are all over the board too.

This year she adds two pictures of her and Jamie on their four year anniversary. They went on a little vacation together to celebrate since it was during the offseason. She took a lot of pictures but the selfie she took of Jamie kissing her cheek and the selfie of Jamie kissing her make it onto the wall. She smiles a sad smile and wishes he was here to watch her put the pictures up.

As she's unpacking the toiletries she brough with her, a child's voice downstairs yells, "Uncle Jamie!"

His name immediately catches her attention.

(Y/N) drops her hairbrush after the shock wears off and runs out of the room. She nearly slips down the wooden stairs to get to Jamie.

When she turns into the hallway that leads to the foyer and front door, she sees Jamie in a black Ducks hoodie and grey sweatpants. A suitcase sits at his side and he's bent down as he hugs the children that went to the door to greet him.

He has the biggest smile on his faces as he says hello. She can't help but smile behind her hands, which she brought up when she saw that he was here. Her eyes burn with tears that threaten to fall at any given moment.

"You're here!" (Y/N)'s oldest niece says. "Aunt (Y/N) said you weren't going to be here."

Jamie glances up at her and replies, "I wanted to surprise her. Can I go say hi to Aunt (Y/N)?"

Her niece nods and all of the kids back away. Jamie stands up and walks over to (Y/N).

The tears fall when Jamie wraps his arms around her neck. She buries his face into his chest and lets out a quiet sob. (Y/N) wraps her arms around his torso. "I didn't think you were going to be here," she tells him. "I thought you were still in Canada with your family and I wouldn't see you until tomorrow when I got back into Anaheim."

"I'm here, baby," Jamie says into her hair. "I'm always here."

She looks up at her boyfriend and smiles. Jamie uses his thumbs to wipe away her tears and dry her cheeks. "Sorry I'm such a mess," she says. "It's been a few days since I've seen you and I've really missed you."

Jamie presses a long kiss to her forehead. "I've missed you too," he mumbles. "Let's go make that cake, yeah? You think I'd miss out on doing that with you?"

She laughs and walks into the kitchen with Jamie. Their fingers are laced together when they walk into the room. Her mom is standing with her back to them with all the ingredients on the island counter and says, "(Y/N), did you want to make vanilla or choco- Jamie! I didn't know you were coming."

"I wanted it to be a surprise," Jamie says as he wraps an arm around (Y/N)'s shoulders. "We can take over baking the cake, if you don't mind."

Her mom smiles at the two of them before nodding. "Not at all," she says. "I know this is the thing the two of you like to do together so I'll keep the kids busy so you can bake away."

Without another word, (Y/N)'s mother leaves the room with a smile on her face. "Let's give Aunt (Y/N) and Uncle Jamie some time alone since it's been a while since they've seen each other," she says to probably the kids.

(Y/N) goes over to the counter where the cake ingredients are lined up and looks over them to make sure everything they need is ready to go. She's making a note of everything they have when Jamie comes up behind her and wraps his arms around her waist.

"Missed you," Jamie mumbles against the swell of her ear. "My family asked about you the entire time I was with them. I told them that you send your love and that we'd visit them over the All Star break in a few weeks."

She smiles when he begins to press soft kisses to her jaw. "I do miss mama Drysdale," she tells him as she leans back against him. "I can't wait to go see your family."

Jamie lets out a light laugh. "Let's get this cake done so I can go get a shower and get ready for dinner," he says. "I don't think your family would be very happy if I sat down at the dining room table for dinner tonight smelling like airport and dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants."

༺═──────────────═༻

The (L/N) family sits down at the dinner table a little before six that night. (Y/N) sits between her older brother and Jamie, who has since changed into a button-up shirt and one of his suit bottoms that he'd wear as part of his arrival suits. She's wearing a short black wrap dress with a pair of matching heels.

The thing about (Y/N)'s family is that there are a lot of them.

(Y/N)'s parents had four kids, and she is the youngest at 22. Between her three older siblings, they have eight kids and three spouses together so there are nearly 20 people at the table.

There is also a lot of food because of how people there are. The cake that she and Jamie baked is sitting in the kitchen and even that is big because of how many people there are in the house at the moment.

They say grace before they start passing bowls and plates around the table so everyone can grab a serving.

The kids all sit at one end of the table while the adults sit at the other end. (Y/N)'s mom sits at the head of the table since she was the one that mostly cooked. She helped a bit when Jamie was showering and changing.

Jamie takes a bite of the turkey and groans. "Mrs. (L/N), the turkey is amazing like always," he tells her when he swallows his bite. "Thank you for cooking."

"You say the same thing every year, Jamie," her mom laughs. "But thank you."

She looks over at Jamie as she chews her bite of stuffing, who shoots her mom a smile. "I mean it every year," he replies. "It's really good."

(Y/N)'s siblings and their partners nod in agreement. She just smiles and takes a bite of her turkey then a sip of her wine.

Small conversations break out as the food begins to disappear from the plates and bowls. (Y/N) treats herself to several servings of the stuffing and mashed potatoes. The kids eat up all the mac and cheese that was made specifically for them. A couple of them even dabble in the turkey.

Jamie is laughing at something (Y/N) said when her mother decides to ask the looming question that is always asked at Thanksgiving.

"So, Jamie," she begins to say. "Have you put any thoughts into putting a ring on my daughter's finger?"

Her eyes widen and she scolds, "Mom! If Jamie is going to propose to me, he'll do it on his own time. I'm 22, he's 21. There is still so much time for us to get married."

Mrs. (L/N) blinks at the two of them and says, "You've been together for over four years, (Y/N). You live together and travel together when you can. He traveled probably overnight to surprise you at your family home for Thanksgiving. If you're going to spend the rest of your lives together then you should know by now, shouldn't you?"

(Y/N) opens her mouth to say something when Jamie puts a hand on her shoulder. "It's okay, (Y/N)," he tells her before turning his attention to her mom. "You'll be the first one to know when I do put a ring on your daughter's finger, Mrs. (L/N). We promise."

She seems content with that answer so she goes back to eating what is on her plate. (Y/N) lets out a soft sigh before she takes a bite of her mashed potatoes.

"Actually, I do have something for you, (Y/N)," Jamie says after a quiet moment. It gets the attention of everyone at the table. "I mean, as long as you don't mind if I gave it to you right now."

A surprised (Y/N) swallows her bite and nods. "Depends on what it is," she tells him.

He smiles and says, "It's actually why I was a little late today. I wanted to be here before you got here but I had to go pick it up so ..." He digs in his pocket for the gift he has for her.

Her jaw drops when she sees a little velvet black box in the palm of his hand. There are several gasps from around the table and the smile on Jamie's lips grows when he sees what must be shock on (Y/N)'s face.

"Jamie, what are you doing?"

He slides down off his chair onto one knee beside her. "Putting a ring on your finger," he tells her. "(Y/N), you have accepted every part of me and my chaotic life, including me being on the road for over half the year because of hockey. I know it's rough but you have loved me through every single second. Nothing. including distance, can get in our way. I want that for the rest of my life, and I hope you want too. I want to love you every single day until I die. So, (Y/N) (L/N), will you do me the biggest honor and marry me?"

The box is pulled open and a beautiful diamond ring sits in the center of it. A hand flies to her mouth and tears prick her eyes. Her eyes don't leave a kneeling Jamie Drysdale.

She can't believe this is happening. She thought she was years away from a proposal, yet here she is. Jamie is on one knee in front of her entire family with a ring in his hand.

It is rough loving Jamie when he's so far away, but knowing she is the one he comes home to makes it a little easier. She loves that he has included her in his hockey life, and even gets her to a handful of away games every year. He doesn't try to separate her and hockey like she know a bunch of players try to do.

With tears rolling down her face, she moves her hand and says, "Yes. I will marry you, Jamie."

The entire room breaks out in celebration. Jamie takes the ring out of the box and slides it onto her left ring finger. She looks at it for a second before she cups his jaw and presses a long kiss to his lips. He breaks it and wraps his arms around her waist.

(Y/N) looks at her mother, who is holding her father's hand and crying. There are smiles all around the table as she pulls back from the hug.

"I was very worried you were going to say no," Jamie admits. "I know I'm away a lot and I hate that I'm away from you all the time but coming home to my fiancée after a roadie sounded really nice."

She smiles and runs her fingers through his hair. "Wearing my fiancé's last name on my back while he's on the ice sounds really nice," she tells him.

"It's going to eventually be your last name," he replies. "That's kind of hot."

She laughs and kisses him one more time before everyone begins to hug the two of them and congratulate them on their engagement.

༺═──────────────═༻

MASTERLIST

have a request ? check out the guidelines !

wanna be added the taglist ? fill out this form !

taglist: @fanboysfangirl @dancerbailey3 (if you're crossed out, it means i can't tag you !)

[chaifootsteps]

if Vassago is in the next episode that means Mastermind is the one where Stolas is summoned to presumably face consequences for lending out the book

this is one of Viv's last chances to show she actually meant it when she was doing the 'both sides have made mistakes' routine

how Stolas losing everything is framed is one

how he and Blitzo probably get together for real is the other

but honestly I'm not confident. the obvious writing choice for making Stolas actually change is to have someone in the courtroom say something along the lines of 'he leant out his precious book in order to get sex out of an imp when he could have given him a crystal from the start, taking advantage of him and hurting both his heir and his reputation'. then Stolas has an epiphany where he realizes he did a little more than 'come on too strong' or 'read things wrong' or whatever the song tried to minimize it as

and have him pay that off when he and Blitzo get together

but what I think is going to happen is this:

the episode is called mastermind because Stella & Andre are the masterminds behind oh-so-evilly using the fact that *checks notes* Stolas is terrible at his job and objectively broke demon law to get him stripped of his titles. this is portrayed as very tragic and totally not something Stolas could and should have foreseen if he hadn't been spending all his time getting drunk and being gaslighting Blitzo. only silver lining is Satan himself will call Stolas an embarassment or whatever the line was in the trailer, but if he has a celebrity VA he probably won't be too harsh

anyway, losing his power results in him getting the Gabriella stripe for real in his hair (it's symbolism for the fact he is indistinguishable from his telenovela heroine and needs a hero to save him, something the audience should root for and not find pathetic and weird) and Andre taking over his palace, turning it to ice. He tries to call Via but can't get through and in either this episode or sinsmas decides to go over there in person

Andre/Stella try to attack him and Blitzo, who has been given one last push either offscreen or onscreen to accept his fate as Stolas' romantic object, goes to save him, risking his life and his employee's lives once again to do so. He doesn't thank them but presumably gets all shoujo romance filter when Blitzo protects him with a sword, clinging to him like a helpless baby who can't be expected to even bother trying to defend himself (this is no different than how he was as a royal when he got nerfed just so the show could have another fanfic torture and rescue plot in western energy)

Via may or may not have to end the battle by killing Andre/Stella. she's understandably a bit upset about having to kill her uncle but this is written like she's just mad he and Blitzo are together (something Blitzo but not Stolas is made to feel responsible for) and being upset about Stolas' antidepressants so she can look unreasonable. the fact he let her down by breaking demon law, got caught, is still fantasizing about having Blitzo rescue him even when it hurts everyone around him, goes totally unmentioned. she cuts him off. it's portrayed as very tragic...for Stolas. he lost everything but got Blitzo as a consolation prize (something which he won't show much appreciation or even love for him onscreen but offscreen they'll totally have cute date nights and Blitzo will never be happier)

old timey title card 'that's all folks!' comes up (just kidding, there's two more seasons of this to get through)

The ride never ends, folks!

[runningupthatvecna]

the law of seat partners

alrighty so ya gurl had a dream about eddie last night and here i am trying to use that to base the following something off of.

part 2 | masterlist

cw/tw: eddie munson being a slightly touchy precious bean. a slight bit of angst. feeling left out/mentions of feeling unwanted if you squint. otherwise, none that i could think of, just my silly brain fluff. if you find something else, please let me know yaaa. no mentions of y/n.

summary: you're going on a high school field trip with your friends. and thankfully, a long haired metalhead is also there to keep you company and ease the pain of being around obnoxious children.

side note: this is literally the first fic thing i've written in literal YEARS (also in English) and first ever time writing for Eddie, so bare with me here, i've gotten quite rusty i guess so i truly apologise if it's rather bad. don't mind me and please reblog/leave me comments if you did enjoy this pure fluff something!

------

It was the sunniest May morning the town of Hawkins had ever seen. The bluest sky above the forests and fields, downtown, the infamous trailer park and the parking lot of Hawkins High.

You sighed as you placed your car in parking mode before opening the door and sliding out, just so you could grab your belongings - a rather big bag filled with all sorts of items that you were certain you were going to need for surviving the next week - out from the backseat.

A field trip with students with an age range from bloody twelve to the wise years of nineteen, well, twenty to be specific, was on your agenda in the almost last month of your last year of high school, and thankfully you were not gonna be stuck in some forest next to Lake Superior alone by yourself.

Being forced to exist around screaming twelve year olds who were about to enter puberty was your least favourite part of the whole expedition, which made the presence of your group of best friends so much more valuable.

There was one person whose attendance you'd specifically been hoping for. And yes, of course you and your friends had been talking about the trip months ago so it would be clear who would join in the fun, but with Eddie's tendency to be flaky when it came to decisions like this, one could never be fully sure.

I mean yeah, certainly you were looking forward to spending this week by the lakeside with Steve, Robin, Nancy, Jonathan and the younger kids in freshmen year, but nothing could make the thought of being stuck with a group of middle schoolers and teachers more bearable than being stuck there with the one guy who you - to put it frankly - had a thing for.

You couldn't really say that you were as close with him as you were with Steve or Robin, you never really spent time with him outside of the group hangouts. But that didn't mean that there was any weird distance between the two of you when the lucky occasion of hanging out did come around.

Eddie Munson was a metalhead. Through and through. Tough exterior, soft baby cow personality but could turn stone cold when necessary. When people tried to shame him for being different, for example.

You were also very certain that his love language was touch, based on the times he would throw his arm around you when casually walking you to your next class or the way he would playfully wrestle Dustin or Lucas in the cafeteria during lunch break to show he didn't hate them.

"Oh my god, I'm so glad you're here!"

Max had spotted you in line and apparently didn't feel too much guilt for cutting it just so she could hop on the bus together with you.

You mumbled the same thing back to her, wondering if you were the first or last ones of your party to go through Miss Kelley's check-in.

She greeted the both of you with a toothy smile before she turned her focus onto the sheet with students' names. Your eyes wandered over the rows of seat pairs, and since you had arrived at the parking lot, let's say not late but also not early either, most of them were already filled with loudly chatting kids.

"Hopefully the others saved us a seat", you heard Max say from in front of you. Unlike you, she already had a pre-determined seat buddy. "Oh please, it's obvious that Sinclair kept one for you", you quipped back, silently hoping you could potentially be sitting next to Steve or at least Robin.

And even if Eddie was going to join you, he'd probably be sitting with Chrissy. Or Gareth.

"That might be true, but I'm sure you'll be just fine with where you'll end up."

Max stepped further into the bus after she gave you a wink and a slight grin.

Did she know more than you?

Good boy Steve was rather easy for you to spot. With that amount of hair peeking out above the sea of headrests? No wonder. In fact, most of your friends were already seated further in the back of the one-story bus.

A slight hint of disappointment clouded your brain at the sight of Steve and Robin sharing a seat pair, with Nancy and Jonathan right behind them. Your fear of being the one left out and behind was creeping out from the back of your mind, acting up.

People had always been kind enough to endure you, but no one ever really chose you. Or at least made you feel like you belonged.

Lucas indeed had the seat next to him reserved for Max, to where she continued her strut down the aisle to plop down, while Dustin and Will had agreed to share theirs.

Surprising they made it out of bed this early.

You took a few more steps towards the back of the bus. A wide grinned Erica was seated amongst her friends in the center of the very back row, your eyes scanning the seats until they landed on the wild dark mane of a certain metalhead, who was occupying the pair of seats right behind the stairs down to the back door.

He was practically lying in the window seat. Head resting against the glass, staring out to observe the students who hadn't set foot onto the bus yet. Parents who were lecturing their kids one last time before letting them go.

Was he daydreaming? What could possibly be going on in that pretty head of his?

Your heart jumped and your stomach fluttered when he shifted his gaze to the aisle where you were standing. The widest smile spread over his face at the sight of you, and you hated to admit to yourself that it did not leave you unaffected.

The seat next to him was empty.

It took Eddie a few seconds to remember what his initial plan was. As if something in his brain clicked, as if a bolt of lightning had hit him, he straightened himself and got up.

"Uh hi there. I, uh, kept you a seat if, uh, in case you'd like to sit with me."

Eddie the freak Munson. Had thought of and would be willing to sharing seats for a 10 hour bus ride. With you, of all people?

In the light of the sunlight flooded bus, you could see his cheeks adjusting to the colour of your own. Flushed pink.

And you just couldn't help the wide grin that was pulling at the corners of your mouth.

Now both of you were standing in the aisle facing each other.

"I would love to, Munson."

Quickly you took out the essentials for the journey from your bag: headphones and your walkman, your tape collection that you wouldn't leave the house without, a novel, some water and a tote bag with your carefully selected snacks.

Eddie waited patiently for you to get comfortable, standing there in the aisle in his signature leather jacket and denim dio vest, while leaning against the backrest of his own seat, watching your every move.

Once you swung yourself around into your seat, Eddie plopped down next to you with an equally wide grin plastered across his face while pointing his ringed index finger at the snack bag.

"You know, you're gonna have to share those with me."

You turned your head around to face him, eyebrow raised.

His chocolate brown doe eyes were so so softly looking at you. If you didn't know better they'd melt you on the spot.

"Oh really, do I?"

"Yeah, it's the unspoken yet official law of seat partners, sweetheart."

You chuckled at his silliness and the pet name, the nervousness which you had gotten from the thought of him very obviously thinking of you when it came to the decision of who to sit next to, all gone.

He wanted to be physically close to you.

He wanted to spend that time on the bus around you.

He chose you.

After Steve, Robin and all the others from your group had acknowledged your presence as well with genuine smiles, and the last few kids had found their seats, it was time to leave Hawkins.

The bus hit the highway towards Chicago pretty soon after departure.

Eddie let you sit in the window seat, which eventually led to him conveniently using your shoulder as a pillow. And no, you didn't mind the weight. It was Eddie.

Hell, you were having a hard time keeping yourself from wrapping your arms around him to pull him closer.

"Does this also fall under the law of seat partners?", you asked curiously, placing a hand on Eddie's head and slightly scratching his scalp.

The only thing you got in return was a satisfied, sleepy "mhm" and a squeeze and rub of his warm hand over your thigh, but it was enough for your mind to drift off, wondering which other of Eddie's love languages and further details of his ridiculous seat partner law you'd come to discover on this trip.

-----

tagged: my beloved ellen @josephfakingquinn <3

[hoboblaidd]

Headcanon: Solas is 5'11-6'.

Theory of the case: For all of Inquisition until Trespasser, Solas is doing an Apostate Slouch™ to appear more like a humble, unassuming elven apostate. Even then, he's taller than your average elf. From Trespasser on, he holds himself more like he is, aka, with good posture.

End of the day, this is my headcanon and I'm not claiming it's canon. It's not serious and the image "proof" within is iffy at best. This is just how I'm rolling on my blog.

The last three images are Veilguard spoilers. Tread carefully.

For reference, here's the apostate slouch in action. You’re not fooling anyone pal:

A note on the heights: Frankly, the Inquisition heights are a little all over the place, so they're not law to me. Everyone's posture in Inquisition also sucks but that's ok, it came out in 2014. But in the interest of science, I'll do an unscientific deep dive.

Here are the models. The person who took these photos said that the models for each character are the same height for every character of the same race/gender, so imo we can’t really use that (also his feet are pronated which is really bad for the knees/hips):

Same height as Cassandra (possibly slightly taller since she's in the foreground):

Hi Varric:

Solas is just shy of a head taller than Lavellan here:

About the same during the balcony kiss - she's looking up, he's looking pretty well down:

Here he's actually slouching, and they're the same height:

They're closer in height below - could be just to make the romance scene more cinematically balanced, or could this be a rare alternate form of the apostate slouch, the apostate shitty breakup slouch? (and, is this entire post an excuse to post my Lavellan? 60 minutes investigates tonight at 9):

This user put Solas side by side with the Sentinels. They’re a bit taller than the standard elves - here is an elven Inquisitor next to the hunched Sentinel guide. At best, Lavellan and old sentinel are the same height:

And here's Solas with the same. The angle's a bit weird, but you get the idea:

Here’s Solas (with a slight apostate slouch, please fix your posture) next to Abelas. About the same height, with Solas maybe a hair taller:

With Mythal, she's a human model and he's close to her height (factoring in the dual slouches):

For reference, here's Mythal-Flemeth with Garrett Hawke who is, as we know, a beefcake:

In Trespasser, Lavellan is closer to the camera and looking up. Solas is a good bit taller (but Karen, it's not that much taller! Well stfu. Also this is my favorite picture of him, it's so cold):

And finally, the reason I bumped him from 5'10 to 6'.

***********VEILGUARD SPOILER***********

Here’s Solas in front of Neve. The image quality sucks and the angle's bit weird, but he's about a head taller. She's a little closer to the camera in the first picture, but not by a significant amount:

For comparison, here's Neve on about the same plane as Emmrich (tallest save for Taash):

The end.

In sum, this is just my headcanon. I'm not claiming this to be canon and it's clearly not perfect. BUT since it's my blog, this is how I have his height. Ergo, he has two tiny adopted daughters.

[martiandmichelle]

Me during a "blue" photo session. This is a God awful photo because, for some reason, in the middle of everything, I decided I needed a really good, deep stretch. You all know what that's like, right? You contort your body and say "fuck it" to the world until you get the kinks out. Well, that's me here, arms cocked, knees pointing in awkward directions, the works. But THE TITS still shone through.

OK, so that's my intro to what will be a kinda long post. (I wanted to give you something to look at before you went through the long read.) I need to make it a roundabout story but it's important and will kinda tie in to the one I started from the agency meeting.

So if you're completely offended by what I like to call "Relations with Relations" - RwR - or maybe more accurately "Sexual relations with relations" (otherwise officially known by a work whose first syllable is the opposite of "out" and whose second syllable rhymes with "nest" but begins with a "c;" yeah, you know what I'm talking about) than I suggest you tune out now. Otherwise, get yourself a nice cup of Joe, or glass of wine, or pint of beer, or whatever, and settle in for a totally sexual read.

(A side note: please don't hold me down to dates and names and whether or not I leave someone out. My body may look and feel like I'm in my 40's and now with my face lift, so do my looks, but my insides and brain are still 73 years old. Time in my brain is variable so dates have as much chance of being wrong as right. I no longer drive because I get lost - and because my boobs get in the way. I have no sense of direction. But, by God, I can read a movie script once and remember it on set. The brain is a weird thing.)

My first RwR happened a few days after my 18th birthday (God, almost 56 years ago!) when my 3-year older brother Chris, a big oaf of a man, not very bright but strong as hell, tried to rape me. He had a tiny small engine repair, small electonics repair shop in the middle of Nowhere, South Georgia and I would keep his books while I finished high school, what little accounts receivable he had. So it was early in my senior year of high school just after my 18th birthday that he came after me. I was already a DDD cup by then and he wanted them. I began to fight him off, as if I could, until it dawned on me: why fight it - maybe you'll like it. So I quit fighting and gave myself to him, both of us virgins. Well, I was spoiled from the beginning as the big klutz carried a 13 inch monster between his legs. For the next 4 years we had a torrid sexual relatoinship, especially after the rest of our family (parents and two sisters) moved away. We would fuck every morning before we opened his shop, during lunch, and all evening. He began selling me to his clients and friends and "his" business suddenly seemed successful.

It all came crashing down when I decided to find someone else so I could have children and he found religion. We began bitter enemies. Until about 4 years ago after his wife died. He decided he was merely human and not the second coming and came asking me for forgiveness - and forgiveness came with a big hug and a blowjob. Chris passed away last year at age 76.

May years passed before my next RwR. That was with my son-in-law and Michelle's then husband Phillip. Their marriage was falling apart as Michelle was as frigid as the ice in my water. My thinking was misguided and I hoped if I could satisfy Phillip's physical need then he would stay with Michelle and their two young kids, son Billy (4) and baby daughter Bonnie. I finally broke it off out of guilt. But remember two names on this list. That happened some 14 years ago.

The next RwR was with my niece, Josie, my youngest sister Marcy's daughter. She was having issues, especially sexual issues, with her husband and, as I tried to help her, it became clear that she was bisexual and had a burning desire to be with another woman, me in particular. I obliged happily. They eventually divorced, Josie got a series of breast enlargements, moved to Europe to do porn and got happily remarried. She keeps saying she's returning to the US, but not yet.

It was the following winter (2011, I think?) when one day my daughter Michelle came to me to do some sewing for her and her kids (I used to be damn good at sewing). The last thing she wanted sewed was the torn sweater she was wearing. She took it off and she wasn't wearing a bra, her huge (J cup tits - she was kinda heavy at the time) staring at me. To make her feel more comfortable I took my top off, too. I was much thinner than she so my H cups looked as big. She then admitted her problems with Phillip stem from her having very strong lesbian leanings and those leanings pointed to me. That day, I had sex with my daughter Michelle. Which, of course, led to me having sex with Michelle's wife, Maria, who you know well from this site.

About a year later Michelle set up a situation where my son Josh and she visiting me and she ripped my top off, knowing full well that Josh wanted me as much as she did. I was probably an "I" cup by then. And, well, Michelle was right. Josh and spent several years having sex every day until he got sick and was diagnosed with ALS. Josh died in November of 2019 and I still ache pretty much every day.

The rest of the RwR I'm going to list pretty quickly. There was my younger sister Rose (or Rosie) with whom I was very tightly bound physically if not emotionally - we never really saw eye-to-eye on anything. Then there was Chris's daughter, my niece, Becca, who moved in with us and is still a part of our lives and is also the one whose tits are as milky as mine. Then Becca's daughter, my grandniece, Zin(nia), again, still a part time lover of mine. Lastly, and I'm sure I've forgotten somebody (or somebodies) and two I haven't even mentioned here are my youngest sister Marcy and her husband Bryan.

So, in other words, I see no more boundary of having relations with relations than I would having sexual relations with anyone else. In fact, it's even sexier!

So that leads me to two weeks ago.

Often, when I have some down time, I'll go half way down the mountain from our residence to where we're building a studio. I'll wear something revealing to give the workers something to enjoy for all the hard work they do. So that day I went down there wearing some short shorts, heels, and a little tank top that maybe covered only the most delicate 25% of my boobs. I was talking to the supervisor when my cell rang. It was Roxy who was back at the house. She urged me to come back right away - that there was someone there I needed to meet with. Knowing Roxy and Kaatje and the others would never let a stranger in without plenty of reason, I agreed and took the 20 minutes walk back up the mountain.

When I walked through the front door Roxy met me with a queer expression on her face. I asked her what was wrong and she assured me that nothing was "wrong." She said there was somebody waiting for me in my study then she and Kaatje walked, unexpectedly, out the front door. Curious, I moved to my study.

There, facing a large poster of me nude on the far wall, lying on my side, my arm hiding my crotch but my huge boobs showing freely (it is my inner sanctum study after all), stood a man curiously dressed. All I could see was that he was wearing a dress shirt with, from my angle, nothing on the bottom. "May I help you?" I asked. And he turned around.

At that moment, had you slapped either one of us, our faces would shatter like cheap glass. There, wearing that dress shirt which was mostly unbuttoned and male short shorts with an impressive bulge up font stood my grandson, Billy, just graduated high school and just turned 18.

To be continued. . .

[justali-anne]

Come to think of it, Sans and Papyrus are both TERRIBLE sleepers!

Papyrus never truly sleeps, definitely an insomniac. He even calls sleeping "NAPPING ALL NIGHT". The dork. I worry about him, though. (Come to think of it, do skeletons even need sleep?)

Since Papyrus seems just fine with his lack of sleep, I tend to just headcanon him as having Short Sleeper Syndrome, just a weird kind of insomnia edition. Like, he said that he "CRUISE(S) WHILE (HE) SNOOZE(S)", so I'm guessing he does at least take short naps, enough to dream, anyway. Maybe that's what the bedtime stories are for?

What does he even have to do during the night anyway? Everyone else is asleep! All the shops are most likely closed! Seriously, what does he have to do? Does he have some sort of secret double life or something? Does he just clean the whole house? Go on his social media platform? Work on his puzzles?? WHAT DOES HE EVEN DO??? (I swear, Papyrus is just as enigmatic as Sans is, if not more so.)

And it seems like skeletons ARE capable of getting tired, because, well, Sans exists. So what even is Papyrus??? Why can he fly, why can he break the laws of physics, why doesn't he sleep??? (Wow, this is a weird rant, I'm gonna pause right here.)

Speaking of Sans, he's... not really much better when it comes to sleep. Papyrus mentions in a phone call that Sans "TIRES EASILY", and we see him napping during the Undyne fight too... And then he falls asleep at the end of his own boss fight (who does that???), but even then it's kind of strange because I don't know if he's faking it or not. Like the few times we see him asleep, he's up literally in the very next moment (in genocide, it's justified because we do try to slash him, but he disappears straight after the Undyne fight too). So it's either he's a very light sleeper or he was faking it.

Papyrus mentions that Sans "naps all night", so at least Sans doesn't stay up all night like Papyrus does... But there's also the many, many midnight snacks that Undyne mentions during a phone call. I think she said that he keeps getting up in the middle of the night to get snacks? That doesn't sound like a healthy sleep schedule. And if Sans keeps getting up in the middle of the night to get snacks, and Papyrus apparently doesn't know how to sleep, then that means that the Skelebro household is still very active at night! If you want to have a sleepover at their house, you better prepare for a sleepless night.

Side note - Sans doesn't have a real bed, it's just a mattress on the floor. Without sheets. That doesn't look very comfortable. Papyrus has a cool race car bed, but Sans just has a lumpy old mattress. Something's not quite right there. Like, shouldn't a lazybones like him have a super comfortable bed? Or is he just too lazy to get a proper bed? So many questions.

[paingoes]

Crash Out

Nimrod I

see attached graphic here :)

(Content: royal whumpee, whumper turned whumpee, immortal whumper, blood, stabbing, a gun, death?, drugs, paranoia)

The whole planet was an experiment. They really weren’t supposed to be there. It was ecologically irresponsible. Her curiosity was too piqued to just drive by it, though. The conservancy didn’t have the budget to secure the entire perimeter; it was too easy to get inside. 

The climate was held in permanent stasis. The whole environment was in permanent stasis. The displaced grass quickly replaced itself. The daisies sprung up again wherever they were plucked. The energy that went into maintaining the project was extravagant. By her own estimate, Lorelai guessed it wouldn’t last another year before shutting down. Then the rock would be barren again. The thought helped her to justify the breach; nothing like it would ever exist again.

The ship was tucked safely beneath the treeline, obscured from any drones. They were halfway in between it and the hot springs — deathly heat, the kind that’d melt all your skin off if you ever dipped into its waters. She’d skirted the edge of it nonetheless. Her dress was damp at the edges. The sky was still bright. 

She was taking notes in the field journal, the same one she’d saved from her school days. She wished she could send the revised version back to her advisor, but that would raise more questions than it was worth. She was content saving it for her own personal record. She glanced up at Paris, who was visibly disinterested in the experiment. He yanked out the grass and the flowers restlessly, watching as they were regrown each time. He ripped out one dandelion over and over again, tying all of its clones into a chain. He had the start of a crown in his lap.

“Who taught you how to do that?” Lorelai asked, her voice heavy with suspicion. No other girls, yeah, totally.

Paris looked up guiltily. “…My mom?”

She shrugged and looked back out to the horizon. Four legged and horned creatures with legs taller than her entire body walked about the tall grass. Slow-moving. Easy. She wondered if the regenerative effect would work the same on the animals. She readjusted the shotgun on her back, hearing it thud against the soil.

“Is it weird that I want to go hunting? My dad offered all the time when I was little, but I always said no. I should’ve.”

“What, you have a taste for it now?” Paris asked.

He was joking, but he’d been dangerously close to the truth. She thought of death a lot — death and violence. All her childhood, she had dreamed of the things she did not see. By now, that gap had been closed with no abstraction. She was on the other side of it – and she wanted to be good. She wanted to see that she still had control of it, to make sure she could roll it around in her fingers and see it without flinching. Without crying afterwards. 

Not that she herself was violent. Never sadistic. Two bullets straight through the heart. She could not have been more efficient. She kept thinking about CTRL.

“Little bit.” She smiled and adjusted her hat to cast a shadow over her face. 

“I don’t know how to close it.” Paris looked down at the long chain of flowers in his hand. 

“Just knot it?” She took it from him, trying to knot the stems together. They were weirdly slippery. 

“Fuck,” she said.

His laugh cut off mid-breath. He had straightened up so abruptly that made her flinch, his expression turning deathly serious. His eyes were set on the forest, each line of his body drawn in sharp tension. She looked over. A figure was emerging slowly from among the rows of trees.

“Warden?” She raised an eyebrow. They’d been surprisingly good at not running in with the law, all things considered. You don’t break the law while breaking the law, as the old adage goes. Even a minor trespassing charge would be major trouble just as soon as the cops realized who they were dealing with. They’d have to flee. 

Paris didn’t even hear her. His hand slowly withdrew the sword from its sheath. Her eyes widened at the escalation. But when she looked back to the figure, she realized why.

Two long braids, two leather gloves, pacing unbidden and unhurried. Lorelai recognized her from her gait more than anything else. The girl from the show – many, many shows back. The one who’d gotten her torso slashed through and the one who’d been walking around again straight after. The one who had waved goodbye at them so unselfconsciously, without any finality at all. The bounty hunter.

Mechanically, Lorelai slid the gun off her back. She aimed it square at Johanna’s heart.

“Do you want me to take the shot?” She asked Paris. He looked at her with his brow furrowed, no doubt remembering last time. It would not be like last time.

“I said I’d do it.”

It was almost hysterical how slow the threat was approaching. It had to be deliberate, Lorelai thought. Her way of drawing him out. And he did move out. Lorelai scooted back some, putting space between herself and the coming carnage.

“Hi-i-i.” The voice rose and fell strangely. Close enough to see the whites of her eyes, then to see them winking. She was unarmed again. What did she expect, really? 

It wasn’t immediate, to be fair. Johanna danced away from the first lunge, her boots treading surprisingly lightly against the soil. She did a needlessly showy back handspring, inverting the pursuit, drawing him in closer. Cartwheel — meaningless. Even from a distance, Lorelai saw Paris’s nose wrinkle in disgust at the frivolity of it all. He cleared the distance between them and stabbed her through the heart, just as gracefully as if it’d been a drill. 

Johanna fell like a play actor. The sword was briefly the only thing holding her up — and then it wasn’t. She crumbled into the grass without having landed a single hit.

The fall had not been very convincing, despite the grievousness of the injury spelling certain death. When he stepped closer to the body, she almost warned him to stay back, as though the dead hand would spring out and grab him like in a monster movie. He too wavered before he touched her. But when he felt at her wrist, he shook his head. Dead.

Lorelai felt it too. There was no pulse in her arm or in her throat, not even a faint one. Dead.

Johanna was still smiling when they turned her limp body over.

=======

Old Fort Kroll - stabbed through heart - seven days to reappear

Aloquois - multiple bullet wounds - four days to reappear. paris got lightly stabbed.

Mercollie - punched in face, not downed - two days to reappear. broke my nail.

Gilynigh - stabbed through heart and neck 

two weeks of absence

=======

Paris felt his hair stand on end only seconds before the blow came; she must have been moving very quickly to trip up his alarm like that. Not that he’d seen it. The first he saw of her, he was already on the ground, just glimpsing the worn leather of her boots. He rolled forward, pushing back with the hard side of his forearm when she tried to kick him back down. She was briefly off-balance –  not enough to fall completely, but it gave him enough space to stand. He could draw the sword again.

She was holding a chain.

He gave a short, choked laugh. The joke was lost on her. There wasn’t any time to explain it.

It was a common enough weapon, but unsophisticated enough that he’d never been taught to fight against it. The closest thing he’d fought was the net. In that case, he needed to have the advantage of proximity. His body desperately resisted this, having a deep instinctual urge to get far away from her. He suppressed it.

She dodged just the same way she had the first time, neatly dancing aside. She pushed him back with surprising torque, but she’d had to expose her arm to do it. The blade drew blood. She seemed excited by it. 

“Your H-i-i-i-ghness,” her breath was all sing-song. Her veins twitched right beneath the skin, squirming around like worms, “You always fight the same.”

A little frown, like she was bored of him. He was fucking exhausted of her.

The chain came down fast and hard over his weapon hand. The impact of steel on his knuckles alone would’ve made him lose his grip, even if she hadn’t yanked the chain back. His own fingers slipped out before they could be broken, but the shock of pain had made them useless. 

She was happy to let the sword clatter to the ground rather than keep it, so she still had one weapon instead of having an offhand. It was still unfavorable. Even if she was unarmed, it was still unfavorable. They hit with the same amount of force. Her injuries would heal before the bout had even ended; his wouldn’t. 

She must’ve thought he’d be easier to handle if he was on the ground, because that’s where she kept forcing him.

She was on top of him again, trying to pin him down by the shoulders. He guessed he should count himself lucky that she was only trying to subdue him, not actually hurt him, but she was quickly learning she could not do the one without the other. He thrashed around too much, ready to injure himself against the restraints if she was too slow to do it herself. It was a bloody business.

It was interrupted as one heel cracked straight into the side of Johanna’s head. He rolled out from under her, using the chain to garrote her. It was only partly successful; she’d managed to slip a few fingers in to protect her neck. Lorelai watched just a few feet away, blood on her shoes. She had the gun on her, but it was no use with their bodies intertwined so close. 

Johanna slammed the back of her skull into Paris’s face. He had to release her to avoid repeated impact. Enough distance was created. Lorelai pistol-whipped her.

Paris moved for the sword again. Johanna growled. Lorelai waved him back. He listened; his nerves were spent. Johanna somersaulted back onto her feet, pushing herself up.

“Who are you again?” She squinted at Lorelai, her arms held out with a gymnast’s posture. 

“Back up.” Lorelai leveled the gun. “Don’t follow us.”

“You look expensive!” Johanna replied.

Lorelai must have interpreted the hands up for surrender, which Paris never would have. She got into the ship without firing, but without ever losing her target. Johanna folded her arms, looking very annoyed as the ship pulled away.

Paris pressed the already bloodied handkerchief tight against his nose — not broken this time. Just painful. He felt the blood in his throat when he spoke.

“Don’t get involved,” he said.

Lorelai’s eyes shifted right, “If I didn’t get involved, you’d be dead ten times over.”

“No I wouldn’t,” he shook his head, then it made him dizzy, so he stopped, “She isn’t trying to kill me. There’s nothing stopping her with you, though. I don’t want you in the middle of it.”

“Well, it’s a little late for that.”

=======

Drea - hand cut off, not downed - three days to reappear

Epsilon-55 - shot in head - seven days to reappear

Baleen - false alarm - paris cut himself :(

Perseye - shot through chest - ten days to reappear. burnt my fingers.

Lutal - stabbed in heart and stomach - five days to reappear. not doing well.

======

Paris was falling apart. He was trying not to show it, but the anxiety revealed itself in each twitch of his fingers, each jump at sudden sounds, each flinch at sudden movements. His hands moved up to protect his chest whenever Lorelai so much as reached into the backseat too quickly. 

He had been paranoid before. It seemed impossible that he could get any worse. Apparently, that assessment was premature. The knot of tension was so tight in his body that Lorelai was sure he would drop dead of fear before anyone else ever got their turn with him. Maybe that would have been a mercy.

She supposed she could understand. She too was always waiting for the eruption, even if her body didn’t bear the marks of it. She only slept while he kept vigil. When she awoke, he still kept vigil. She guessed it had been days since he last slept.

Out on the motel balcony, she found him with the pills in his hand.

“Don’t take that,” she said tiredly.

“Fuuuuuuck you????” He’d already taken it. He looked at her crookedly, red-eyed. His neck was bleeding through the bandage, though he hadn’t noticed yet.

“You are too wound up to be taking meth pills. Your heart’s gonna stop.” She almost begged him. He did not need to be tweaking any harder than he already was. 

“It’s not meth.”

“Then what is it?” She hoped against hope it was some kind of downer, anything to cool him out some.

“I don’t know, but it sure as shit wasn’t meth,” he laughed.

A car alarm went off in the parking lot. He jumped so bad he knocked the side table over, breaking glass onto the balcony, spilling the cigarette ash. A thin cut appeared on his calf. He took a deep breath.

Paris freaked out. He said he’d earned it. Truth be told, she was surprised it had taken this long. She didn’t see the meltdown, but she could hear it through the open window. It amazed her just how long it could go on. How long he could sustain the yelling. How much he could find to break. The abruptness with which it stopped.

He came back in out of breath, ready to leave again. 

…………

tags:

@catnykit @snakebites-and-ink @vivulapom @scoundrelwithboba @whatwhump

@pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @fuckass1000 @fuckcapitalismasshole @defire

@micechomper @writereleaserepeat @aloafofbreadwithanxiety

[spiralinghours]

“I’ll Be Seeing You” (1/?)

Fandom: Saw franchise

Characters/Pairing: Mark Hoffman x Peter Strahm

Rating: PG-13? (for this installment at least)

Tags/Warnings: mild violence/blood mention, allusions to Strahm being a chubby chaser, and good ol’ 1990’s internalized homophobia

Summary: The Jigsaw case wasn’t the first time Hoffman and Strahm met. When they were tasked on an assignment in 1992 they got to know each other, but the lines between professional and personal started to blur…

Author’s Notes: Sorry if the grammar and wording is off, may go in and tighten it at some point.

2006

The creeping feeling was there, all the way on the ride from their field office up to the tip of the stairwell leading into the scene the Metropolitan PD was checking out. Peter Strahm knew he would be on the case. He just wasn’t sure how long it would be until they crossed paths.

And then there it was.

Perez was halfway through stating her title before Strahm even noticed who she was addressing.

“Detective Hoffman?”

God, he was just Officer Hoffman back then. Before. It was weird seeing him out of the starched, black uniform.

There was some chatter about Allison Kerry being their liaison and the information she had provided, but it bounced off Strahm, who was not at all absorbing the words. He just kept staring. ‘Fuck. This guy.’ Or more like Fuck this guy!

Strahm’s eyes scrunched and narrowed as he gave an annoyed exhale, which was saying a lot as his disposition was in a perpetual state of fixed glaring—wrinkles under his tear ducts crinkling and cutting across to his cheekbones. The surrounding officers milling about were probably wondering why he was leering, what his problem was. Perez, after all, had introduced themselves so courteously.

Detective Mark Hoffman’s face, meanwhile, had an equally curious slant. His eyes rolled up and down Peter’s physique, awestruck and indiscreet about it. He quickly resumed some semblance of a dignified, unfazed stance.

Despite taking in the physical differences that hadn’t quite sunken in (Hoffman’s field vest wasn’t quite covering all if his chubbier midsection the way it once did, and his hair was pushed to one side like a typical desk jockey), all Strahm’s vision could muster was a screen of the past overlaying the current space.

He remembered that night in front of the tavern…

AUGUST 1992

It started as a celebratory night with the majority of the precinct reveling at the nearby tavern—a regular spot for most of their off-the-clock activity. On this evening they were giving the metaphorical sigh of relief over closing the case on a killer that had been plaguing the city and surrounding areas for little over a year.

The FBI had been brought in, assigning a handful of agents from the nearest field location to assist in the efforts. One of them was Peter Strahm, all of 28-years-old and green in Bureau. It was only evident in his appearance—on-edge demeanor, mullet slick in the front but slightly unruly in back, button up a little long on the arms—that he was new. It was his intense cold gaze and to-the-point tactics that got him taken seriously and carried him far. Far enough to earn his shots at the Metropolitan law enforcement’s party.

Most of those wince-inducing whiskey shots were taken while glancing curiously across the bar at Officer Mark Hoffman. Marcus, the front desk’s woman had often doted on him with a little smile. Deservedly so, Strahm agreed. Mark’s brand of handsome was a blank smoldering model in a cologne ad. A tanned, blue-eyed shyness in some kind of sporting backdrop in a department store. But when his features were pried with a stupid joke or some out of pocket comment by a senior figure, he cackled a silly laugh, prominent nose scrunched, crooked, gapped smile on display.

It made Peter sigh, which sent him into a mild fit over feeling like a school girl.

Mark was only a couple of years younger than Peter, but had a good few years in the force on his side, which was what paired them up most times on the case. It meant hours turning into days in casing out places, taking turns driving from diner to drive thru just to stay awake with bland coffee. Some nights got more interesting than others, but each day they were tasked together was a new canvas.

Now that they were at the end of the line, Peter would resume business as usual at his office, maybe even have time to go back to Nevada for a while. Which seemed nice, except… something felt left undone. Unsaid.

He pushed his emptied tumbler to the edge of the bar and casually glided over to Mark’s barstool.

“Smoke?” he offered.

Mark’s glassy eyes did a little up-down over Peter’s taller form before sliding off to the back hallway that lead to the parking lot.

“Hey,” Mark paused, stopping their tracks in front of the restroom door. “I appreciate the help you’ve brought on the case.”

“Oh, knock it off,” Peter chuckled with a heavy-browed eye roll. “We did all the thank you’s already. We’re getting drunk now.”

“Yeah, okay,” Mark shot back, working his lips into a sassy curl. “I was just trying to be nice.” He craned his head slightly forward, more as a punctuation to his rising sarcasm.

But Peter wasn’t laughing anymore. His face had dropped into something else, eyes dark and fluttering. Mark’s brows knitted into a mixture of intrigue and confusion, not breaking his stare.

Bam, bam, bam. One thing after another. Strahm occupied one palm against Hoffman’s chest, and the other clenching his uniform tie in his fist. With the motion their faces collided, some teeth cutting against lips and tongues. It pushed them into the restroom behind them, so blurred and intense that no one else had noticed.

Against the sticky floor tiles within, Mark tumbled onto his butt, gaze still transfixed with confusion on Peter. He darted out and into the lot before Peter could even offer him a hand up.

Outside in the dewey summer, Strahm darted after Hoffman, calling out “Hey! HEY!”

Mark ceased his stamping off and settled into place, squared up like a statue. “I’m not a fuckin’ queer.” His Jersey

drawl dripped out, lazy but threatening. Though on the defense, his words spilled out like a plea. Please, don’t tell the guys at the station. Don’t get me kicked off the force. Please don’t find me disgusting.

“Neither am I!” Peter lied without quite realizing. “Not that it matters. Just… I dunno. I like this. I like you.”

When Mark wouldn’t respond to the acknowledgment out loud, blue eyes drifting off sharp in the velvet shade of night, Peter pressed on.

“We kissed.”

“No, you kissed me!” Mark spat, face screwing up in a betraying twist. He was blushing. No, fuming. Peter knew exactly what he was masking. Because this wasn’t their first encounter of that sort.

“Fine. You know what? Fuck you. Try not to bite the curb when you’re drunkenly getting back to your patrol car. Fucking lush.” ‘You can’t even kiss me without getting drunk,’ Peter wanted to follow up with. But he had turned, resisting a glance back, only remembering the times before. Those times were a long different: alone in the car, behind a motel, at a gas pump somewhere deserted…

He didn’t want to leave Mark behind. He wanted a next time. Another time to see his goofy smile, his puppy-ish eyes.

It wasn’t meant to be.

Uncoordinated scuttling—rubber soles on crumbling tar—echoed in the lot. “Hey, don’t talk to me like that,” Mark called behind, anger cracking through his tone, deep from in his chest.

Peter tilted his glare so slightly over his shoulder, instantly meeting a dull, radiating impact.

Mark wrung his fist out as it recoiled from Peter’s cheek: minimally bruised, but marked with a ghastly-bright splatter across his knuckles. “That’s what you get,” he choked out.

Without a beat, Strahm was on him, writhing somewhat weakly over the officer on the pavement while still reeling from the punch. He tried throwing all the force he could behind rapid hits, but missed or occasionally caught some awkward angle on Mark.

In a blind reach, Mark went to grab whatever he could to regain some stability, hoping to dig his fingers into Peter’s shoulders. Instead his fingernails caught tacky, humid flesh with a hard impact, raking down a thin trail of blood.

“Fuuuuck!” Peter rasped, pausing to dab the pads of his fingers along a cut on his orbital bone. Thick red seeped alongside his nose, down his cheek.

Mark could feel his own face desperately tense with regret.

The last thing he would ever see of Peter Strahm was the visage of him sat atop his thighs and a tightly wound fist heading between his eyes.

2006

Peter pressed his fingertips down on the raised scar tissue just below his eye. It throbbed maliciously as he took every step through the precinct halls, watched every tiny movement Mark made as he lead them around.

Perez had remained close at Peter’s side through their whole investigative venture so far. But she had to take a call from Erickson before entering into the file room where Hoffman was going to set them up to work. It was fine. Apparently Officer Rigg was in there reviewing footage anyway. Hoffman and Strahm could just wait for the call to end and the room to clear as Rigg wrapped up with the interrogation tape.

Peter released a cartoonishly impatient sigh and pressed his stiff back against the wall.

That was enough.

“You suck on a lemon or something? This whole time you’ve been scowling like I fucking pissed in your coffee.” Hoffman grit his teeth like a junkyard dog, the first time he’d let himself slip with the absence of Perez beside them.

“You’re such a thick-skulled fuck.”

“Oh yeah? That’s rich coming from someone hittin’ the slopes too hard.”

“Wow, very harsh, Detective Bimbo.” Strahm was taken aback by his own sass.

Mark leaned in. “You know, you got real old and bitter. You look like you been chewin’ on nails.”

“You got old and fat.” Peter couldn’t say that it didn’t look appealing on Mark, though. The cockiness was very much still there, but slightly humbled by the rounded edges and layers of cushioning that had expanded his width.

Peter wanted to picture it was a result of comforting, indulgent cooking: a smile spreading on Mark’s idiotic lips at the person across the table from him—the person who had cooked for him. But he knew that wasn’t the case. Even in being strangers for over a decade, Strahm was aware of what had happened to Angelina—the story spread through the news. Hoffman’s appearance wasn’t just extra weight from night after night of spiraling binge drinking, followed by quelling the hunger with takeout; It was a sunken quality to his eyes, a void just under the lids, the line over his brows. He looked hollow behind his own face, which creased with laughter years ago.

‘I could’ve—’ Peter started with himself, quickly cutting it off. No. Whatever he was about to tell himself was a delusion. It wouldn’t matter, especially not once this case was done with.

“You know,” Mark mused on with that purr-like bass to his voice, “I get it. You’re just cranky. Take a nap, sweetheart.” He cupped a thick hand to the scarred side of Peter’s face, grazing a fat thumb over the deeply pink line.

The body reacted before the rest of Peter could catch up, leaning into the touch, but only slightly. Internally he was on the brink of mewing like a starved cat. No no no. NO. He slapped Mark’s hand away.

The flat clacking of Lindsey’s shoes resounded through the hall, subconsciously signaling for the two to behave. They straightened up, but not before Mark leaned into Peter’s ear for a final remark.

“Drinks this week, Special Agent Strahm?”

Peter sneered. The answer wasn’t no.

[circuses-and-childhoodtrauma]

Teen Dad Drex?

With the new developments with Drex, I decided to go back in my notes and find an old timeline that I had of his age and how it corresponds with the story and I added in the details of Lil Dynamite as well so that we may see how his birth lines up with Drex’s age. It takes quite some work but I hope it’s insightful and that I explain every decision I made properly. If there’s anything anyone else would like to add lmk! Also warning this is a p long post

So I believe the easiest place to start is Drex’s debut in season 3 episode 6 of Henry Danger. This episode featured a 15 year old Henry and a 35 year old Ray. In this episode, Ray reveals that he had a sidekick (presumably his first) 9 years prior. Now, our next few pieces of intel must be inferred from things we know about the show. By looking at the ages of all Ray’s featured sidekicks, it is inferred that Drex would also be a teenager at the time of working with Ray. When asked about Drex, Ray says that they only worked together for some months. Though he does not specify, he adds that they never fought crime together. 

–Now, my personal headcanon is that they were together for maybe 6ish months and that time was spent training (I believe it was so much training and so little trust that contributed to Drex turning on Ray) (I also believe that the reason Drex never got a hero name is because he never fought crime and therefore was never debuted as a sidekick, [like the Danger Force kids in S1E2 of Danger Force, Say My Name], as far as I’m aware it is never even known to the public that Captain Man had a sidekick before Kid Danger)– 

Another thing we know about Drex is that his time as a sidekick ended in a huge battle between him and Captain Man, one that, according to Ray, would have resulted in his death had he not been indestructible. So for the sake of that accuracy, I will put Drex on the older teenage side, farther into puberty and more grown into his physique. As such, my belief is that Drex joined Ray in at late 16, turned 17 during their partnership, and was 17 when they fought. This is also a contributor to his story, as it is more likely for Drex to be tried as an adult in court, making it more reasonable for him to be sentenced life in prison (although I’m sure Swellview would not hesitate to incarcerate him no matter the age given their weird laws). 

Assuming Drex was 17 at the moment of incarceration, 9 years passing would make him 26 in Hour of Power, 28 in the Henry Danger finale, and 31 in season 3 of Danger force. (Each season seems to pass a year-ish, although season 5 of Henry Danger is an outlier given how many episodes it has, I will still count it as a year to save the headache.)

With Drex’s age out of the way, we can turn to the newest variable of our timeline: Buddy Fudgers, aka Li’l Dynomite. As far as I am aware there is no canon age for Li’l Dynomite mentioned anywhere in the show, however there is a point of interest that we can use. In the 2022 crossover between Danger Force and a number of other shows, Li’l Dynomite’s true identity is implied to be a character of the same actor named Fisher. This is later disproven, but the implication gives us the assumption that these characters are the same age. I chose to use this information rather than the actor’s age to fit in the story better (Danger Force characters are also younger than their actors). Fisher is 14 in the 2022 finale of Side Hustle, so we can assume that Li’l Dynomite would be the same age, making him 15 as of season 3. 

Doing the math, Drex was ~16 years old when Li’l Dynomite is born, meaning he was 15/16 when Li’l Dynomite is conceived. This could happen during or around the time of his partnership with Ray, and it is safe to assume so far that he did not know about this child at least until after he was sent to prison. 

I have included a visual timeline if this was too hard to follow, along with some other character’s ages that coincide. Feel free to use this information as you please, just try not to discredit the work and research it took to work it all out on paper 😭

If you got this far, here is a sketch I did of sidekick Drex as a treat!

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

https://www.tumblr.com/royaltealovingkookiness/187489175766/i-think-the-anon-who-sent-the-zuko-lost-azula-in?source=share

Your thoughts?

(I'm only mentioning the ones I don't agree with)

"Oogling him when he's half-naked"

As a brazilian, this one was HILARIOUS to me. He just has his shirt off because it's summer and bending is a physical exercise and he's going to sweat. This isn't him dramatically taking his shirt off at The Beach and a ton of fangirls appearing to drool all over him. This isn't sexual.

She's literally watching him and AANG practice firebending. That's all. Why are we making it about attraction, and why are we assuming she could only possibly be looking at Zuko when Aang is there too? By that logic, Ozai and Aang were checking each other out during their fight in the finale, and so were Zhao and Zuko during their Agni Kai - after all, they're LOOKING at EACH OTHER when NEITHER OF THEM has a SHIRT on.

"Note Katara's body language"

Literally what about it? I legitimately don't understand this one. Touching her hair is somehow weird or flirty? It's just hair!

Is it because she's sitting next to Zuko? What, she's not allowed to be too close to a guy without it being suggestive/flirty in some way? Again, as a brazilian, I am VERY confused. Somebody help me out here.

"I don't think anyone could argue sibling vibes in a scene in which they are visibly disgusted at the thought of being mistaken for a couple"

What? Like, sure, I can see SOME siblings just laughing it off and correcting the person who made a mistake, but being grossed out is a 100% valid reaction.

As a girl that grew up being told "You saying you don't like this boy can ONLY mean that you secretly like him" and had to hear an unhinged woman call my 11-year-old self "her future daughter in law" just because I was friends with her son, I am BEGGING people to quit it with that bullshit. Being weirded out is not "admiting" there are feelings there. Stop it. Sometimes people are shy, sometimes they just genuinely don't like each other that way. Stop projecting.

(Also the only correct ways to do the mistaken for a couple thing is with the characters either just rolling with it "to avoid explaining" or to one of them to exaggerate on the awkwad denial and accidentally offend/upset the other, like it happened with Kataang in Cave Of Two Lovers)

"I don't remember any scene of Zuko or Katara fighting side by side with their sibling like they did with each other"

Also if we're talking side-by-side fighting stance that screams romantic symbolism, let's be fucking serious here. The dragons literally make a heart.

"You can only want to see embarrassing/cute baby pictures of your friend if you want to date them, and siblings totally don't use old childhood photos to annoying each other"

Are you fucking kidding me?

"Co-parenting"

Fuck off, they're children. Traumatized children. ALL of them. They've all done stupid shit, and they've all been exasperated by their friends' doing dumb shit. Found family doesn't mean we NEED one or more characters to play the "parent" role.

Katara actively resents the idea of being seen more as parent than as a friend, and Zuko JUST discovered the revolutionary concept of "Wait, a father burning his child's face is NOT normal????" Co-parenting my ass.

"Bed/bison sharing. Very unsibling like"

Katara literally shares the bed/Appa with Sokka during the entire Blue Spirit episode. And like this person pointed out themselves, the Gaang shares "a bed" and sleep next to each other all the time. Be thrilled that your OTP is having a moment that you could re-imagine as romantic, but let's not pretend any kind of intimacy MUST be sexual/romantic in nature.

"The scene of Katara comforting Zuko has parallels with his first scene with Mai at the start of the season"

This one was totally okay until the bullshit of "Mai's kiss and hug didn't help Zuko feel better at all and after this he shuts her out." During all of Nightmares And Daydreams we see him cuddling with her, Mai trying to cheer him up, and him even confessing his inner-turmoil about having to essentially put on an act to please Ozai.

She grew a lot as a character and Zuko didn't take her joke in that first episode to heart. He is doing the exact opposite of shutting her out, he actively turns to her for comfort.

"The physical distance between them shrunk"

Yes, and? Seriously, what about it? Is there a line missing here? Am I not seeing something? WHAT IS GOING ON?

"The lightning to the heart feels like a romantic scene"

I was gonna let it slide, like I was doing with all the others "This could work for a romantic relationship, but it's not inherently romantic", but that last line I just can't stand by. DRAMA IS NOT THE SAME AS ROMANCE.

"The simmilar scene for a canon ship doesn't have the same focus on the hands as this one does"

Hand-close ups are exclusive to married people, it is known *rolls eyes*

"It looks like they're about to kiss"

Bruh, what? Looking up at someone who is looking down at you is like leaning in for a kiss?

"Many of these scenes (not the ship-baiting ones obviously) could have been written, framed, animated in a purely platonic way, giving it more of a playful sibling vibe, but the creators deliberately chose overtly romantic or at least ambiguous tones"