#so I might as well write something with them to figure them out

[felassan]

David Gaider on Flemeth, under a cut for length:

"I have a type. I admit it. There are certain wells I can return to repeatedly and always find something new to explore. One of them is older female characters. Mike used to rib me about it. Consider Wynne. Meredith. Genevieve. And, of course, the biggie: Flemeth. Why are they a type? I... don't know, honestly. I guess I have a feeling that older men fade, they strive to regain their youth or establish a legacy and we've seen that story a thousand times, but older women? They become free to become something new. I guess I see so many possibilities in that. I had a conception of who Flemeth was, and why, right from the very start. Her creation went hand in hand with Morrigan, as a being whose thirst for retribution hundreds of years ago attracted an entity (slight confession: I didn't know Mythal specifically, at the time, "an elven god" was enough). I also knew where Morrigan was right and very wrong about her. Misconceptions of the truth are built into DA's foundation, and they were fundamental to this mother-daughter relationship I was building. Like many seeds I'd put in the world, however, I had no idea whether I'd ever get to explore it. Knowing that she was a character of possible future importance, if not a major player in DAO, I wasn't much surprised when she was one of the first cuts the art team made in terms of getting a unique appearance. Thus the "batty old woman" players met in DAO. Not as hard a cut as the Qunari, though."

"Going into DA2, I wanted both Morrigan and Flemeth, but we could only have one. So I picked Flemeth. This was the game where she really got to come into her own. I remember the art team coming and asking if it was OK if she got a new model, as it'd be a retcon of sorts. I didn't care. I wanted it. I honestly don't remember whether Kate Mulgrew was cast before or after Claudia. After, I think? All I recall is that Cab came into my office one day and asked if Kate might be a good fit. Asked me, the dyed-in-the-wool Trekkie who had stuck with Voyager even through the admittedly lean years? The squeal I made was un-manly. Cab took that as a "yes". 😅 I didn't get to talk to Kate until DA2, however. Schedules being what they were, we had a tight window to record Flemeth... so I had to write all her scenes before almost anything else in DA2 was written, before I even had a team! Ack! It was OK, though, for the most part. I knew where I wanted to take her, and a big part of it was going to explain her transition - to set her up for the future. So I whipped up a script in, like, two days and off we went. Kate was a marvel in the booth. She adored Flemeth and you could really tell. I didn't get to meet Kate in person, however, until DAI. This came pretty late in its development, compared to when we recorded her for DA2, and we flew down to Virginia (to accommodate her schedule - she was writing her memoir at the time, I think) for a single session. It was going to be *tight*."

"I was a mess. I was finally going to meet Captain Janeway... and yes yes, I know she's also more than that. But come ON. When we sat down, I figured I'd have to talk her through the character all over again. It'd been years since that one session at the start of DA2, right? And even more since DAO. But, no. Kate remembered Flemeth perfectly. I remember sitting there as she told me how much she loved the character, how rare it was to get one with so much texture and possibility. She called out my writing - my writing! - and waxed poetic about how she viewed Flemeth's arc. I... I was floored. 🫠 Then we began recording. One issue that quickly reared its head was how Caroline had to speed through the lines if we hoped to finish. Kate was a trooper, and most takes she'd get it in one (which is rare), but I was alarmed because we weren't giving Kate time to read the VO comments on each line. I brought it up, as there were some lines (so much sarcasm) that required nuance - Kate was getting them, oddly, but I was worried. "Oh, it's fine," Kate said. "I read the comments as we go." "How could you? We're going so fast!" "I'm a speed reader." Oh. OK, then. That certainly explained it. 😁 We got to the confrontation scene with Morrigan and she nailed it. Over and over. More than once, Caroline would make a call and, before I could even interject and say "no, Kate had it right, actually" Kate would explain exactly why she did it that way and why it worked for Flemeth. I was in love. She did the "I will see her avenged!" section all in one go. I got chills. Then we got to the final scene. You know the one. With Solas. It was this beautiful moment. She took it somewhere quiet and sad... and when she got to that last line, we all felt it: Flemeth was dead. Everyone was in tears. I suppose I could talk more about the process. How she started off aligned with Morrigan's original Delirium inspiration, but I didn't pull back her loopy way of talking as much (bet you wondered). I still don't know why it was so easy to slip into her voice, but I'm grateful I got the chance. ❤️"

[source thread]

[eunimaybe]

theorising : us in parallel worlds

୨୧ ; you and jake sim are in completely different orbits! how did you defy the laws of physics and end up with him?

pairing! physicalsciencesmajor!jake x historymajor!reader | wc. 0.8k | warnings: possibly incorrect science and uni terms, attempted humour, probably cringe EN-

🖇️ : jake version is out now!! this was so cute to write and the reader is so me i can’t do maths and physics either ㅠㅠ need jake to tutor me frfr

so you see

you’ve never been maths and science smart

you’ve always been better at the humanities subjects and the languages, even from middle school

you are the history, geography and literature ACE.

well, jake’s the opposite

he devours maths equations and quantum physics papers for breakfast and proceeds to choke over basic history — more under cut!!

“when did the first world war end?”

“uh, i dunno. BUT did you know something can be a wave and a particle at once?”

jake was the kid that memorised the digits of pi FOR FUN.

he’s the guy who understood organic chemistry and quantum physics when he was nine

like you didn’t even have a consciousness when you were nine how tf was jake understanding quantum physics

of course jake’s a physical science and engineering major

you meet him at uni in your history department because he was waiting for his friend to come out of lecture

and DAMN he’s a lil cutie

you just watched him leaning on the hallway wall whilst you were sitting on that one random really comfortable sofa in the corner

you were NOT expecting him to suddenly stroll over to you

like why is that guy walking over to the sofa WHY IS HE LOOKING AT YOU

he's just here to ask you where the hell the lecture hall for the class that teaches history about people who died a lightyear before is

and you’re just like “oh, you mean ancient history? it’s right over there, room 204.”

he shoots you the most beautiful smile you've ever seen and says "thanks" before leaving

you're just kind of sitting there staring at his retreating figure

WHY IS HE SO SO CUTE????

it might not show but jake's also silently thinking about that

how did he not notice someone like you sooner?

like you're perfect it doesn't matter that the campus is huge and you two are different majors HOW HAS HE NEVER NOTICED YOU

you never even got to know that guy's name and you're scared that you won't ever see him again

you're just mentally kicking yourself for not asking for his name (and number)

you only manage to find him through intensive, if not obsessive internet research with your best friend

you learn that this cute guy's name is jake sim and that he's double majoring in physical sciences and engineering bc he's a lil crazy

how is his skin glowing with that kind of schedule

you always look for him in the university hallways YOU EVEN GO TO THE SCIENCES DEPARTMENT

but you never find him (it's because jake's poking his nose into every history lecture hall instead of being in his department trying to get a glimpse of you)

like he even goes to the philosophy lecture halls bc you sometimes go to them for fun

it’s giving zeno’s paradox omfg ITS GIVING PAULI EXCLUSION PRINCIPLE (except yall aren’t an electron)

but in one of your university's annual festivals you get to see him again!!

you were just in line to buy some lemonade with your friend when he lines up behind you

he recognises you straight away and gives you that smile that's been embedded in your memory for the past month and says a little hello

your friend just leaves because she's been getting daily updates about this guy named jake sim with pictures included

you're just left alone with him and you're so busy staring at him that you don't hear the lemonade stand cashier ask what you want to order

jake buys you a cup of lemonade SUCH A GENTLEMAN

you two have so much fun together at the festival

jake evens wins you a plushie with the darts at one of the stalls

"how're you so good at that? those games are designed to make you lose."

"you just need to understand the science behind it."

turns out jake is really easygoing which you didn't think was possible from an engineering major

you two make plans to meet up together and study at the science department library

tell me why the science library is so much better than the one you go to.

the sofas are so much more nap friendly and it just looks prettier yk

jake helps you with your maths and science studies

you thought you would be free of maths and science once you graduate from high school but turns out basic classes are in the core curriculum

it was a very big disappointment when you found out WDYM YOU STILL HAVE TO DO CALCULUS

you barely managed to do long divisions in primary, you can't do this shit anymore

it's okay, not only is jake really really smart, he's also really really patient

in return, you help jake boost his shitty core humanities grade

he's been barely scraping by

"y/n, i swear, i can memorise dates and all that stuff but i can't with the essays."

jake confesses to you during one of your little study sessions

he sends you a cute heart on the desmos graphing calculator (such a nerd omg)

you two are THE power couple

you get As in your maths and science now and the professor doesn't give you dirty looks anymore

jake managed to boost his grade as well DREAM COUPLE FRFR

heeseung jay sunghoon sunoo jungwon ni-ki

✉️: @icyy-hoon

[incorrectfatui]

okay, more HCs. This one is only Scara, so things might get a lil dark- I'm not normal about him. anywho: Scaramouche: -autistic. I am going to say this about every Harbinger, bc it's the truth. -most traumatized mfer in all of Teyvat. Seriously. someone give this guy a licensed therapist. -as Kabukimono, he's tried to eat several non edible items. This one is inspired by that one researcher who made up a story about him eating a humans arm. The image of little Scara munching on various dangerous items is so cute -related to the above: he still does it sometimes, to fuck with people. Dottore thinks its great. Pierro had to stop him from getting Kuni to eat a delusion. -Eyes (& markings) always glow at least slightly, even if he's not using his powers. Its not really noticeable in the day, but at night you can see it pretty well -hates Pantalone. Not bc he's jealous of him hanging out with Dottore or something (if anything, Pantalone gets jealous), but just because he is an ass. -Went to the Abyss again for a long time, just after Arlecchino became a Harbinger, and kind of forgot that Crucy was replaced. Came back and was like "who the FUCK- oh right". Why? because I think its funny -In general, has a better relationship with most of the female Harbingers than the male ones. -a little self indulgent, but I like to think that he was able to float a lil with electro as well. We see Raiden and Ei do it, and I think it'd be cute if he was able to as well, if to a lesser degree. -has used almost every element at some point, testing delusions with Dotty. Mostly bc I can't really imagine all those researchers just throwing 4 extra elements at shouki no kami and being like "figure it out" -speaking of delusions: I think he didn't use one. His electro is inert and I dont think he used another element. I see people headcanoning his delusion as Anemo, and I get it, but I don't like it all that much -SPEAKING of his electro being inert to his body- I refuse to believe he lost electro completely. The whole "oh he used up his divinity" is lazy. He can still connect to Irminsul, which he only learned while ascending, but he cant use electro anymore, something that he's had since birth? Bullshit. I understand him not using it, but I think it'd be more impactful if that was a voluntary choice. I'd really like to see him recover it over the course of the story -I think Youkai like him. Obviously this excludes Yae Miko, but I think as Kabukimono it wouldn't be strange to see him being followed by some Tanuki or the lesser Kitsune. I would really like to see him interact with the Youkai Children from that one Inazuma event, I think it'd be really cute. -I like seeing people write about him and Kujou Sara, both romantic, platonic and as enemies. The two of them are very similar in some aspects, and then radically different in others. I think it'd be really interesting to see Kujou Sara confronted with her own trauma being reflected onto Ei. I guess this is mostly because I just really like Sara and I want my favs to interact xD -more of a theory, but I think Pierro and Dottore, (will) remember him. He has a lot of foreshadowing in his voiceline about Pierro & Dotty, and other things. He's very clearly endgame/lore relevant, with his story not even being finished. -not a HC, but I wanted to mention it: I'm still stuck in Inversion of Genesis on my main account. I never played past it. I did the Fontaine and Natlan quests for friends/watched them online, but I'm still in IoG on my main, because I never fully decided on a name -last one bc character limit: I really like to imagine him interacting with Neuvilette. I think there could be a lot of interesting discussions had here- Neuvi would absolutely dissaprove of his attempt to overthrow Nahida, but at the same time I think he would, to some degree, understand his obsession with the gnosis. No, the gnosis/authority doesn't belong to Scara (or Ei, for that matter), but I think if you told Neuvi that Scara was quite literally created to hold it, he'd understand, to a degree.

[justanotherflemethstan]

this is not a drill, this is a thread on the creation of Flemeth from David Gaider!! as kind of the self professed Flemeth stan blog around here, I had to reshare

(alt text and full text transcript of the images included)

Link to the original post

Full text from the images below the cut:

CHARACTERS - DAY THREE: Flemeth

I have a type. I admit it. There are certain wells I can return to repeatedly and always find something new to explore.

One of them is older female characters. Mike used to rib me about it. Consider Wynne. Meredith. Genevieve. And, of course, the biggie: Flemeth.

Why are they a type? I... don't know, honestly.

I guess I have a feeling that older men fade, they strive to regain their youth or establish a legacy and we've seen that story a thousand times, but older women? They become free to become something new. I guess I see so many possibilities in that.

I had a conception of who Flemeth was, and why, right from the very start. Her creation went hand in hand with Morrigan, as a being whose thirst for retribution hundreds of years ago attracted an entity (slight confession: I didn't know Mythal specifically, at the time, "an elven god" was enough).

I also knew where Morrigan was right and very wrong about her. Misconceptions of the truth are built into DA's foundation, and they were fundamental to this mother-daughter relationship I was building.

Like many seeds I'd put in the world, however, I had no idea whether I'd ever get to explore it.

Knowing that she was a character of possible future importance, if not a major player in DAO, I wasn't much surprised when she was one of the first cuts the art team made in terms of getting a unique appearance. Thus the "batty old woman" players met in DAO. Not as hard a cut as the Qunari, though.

Going into DA2, I wanted both Morrigan and Flemeth, but we could only have one. So I picked Flemeth. This was the game where she really got to come into her own.

I remember the art team coming and asking if it was OK if she got a new model, as it'd be a retcon of sorts. I didn't care. I wanted it.

I honestly don't remember whether Kate Mulgrew was cast before or after Claudia. After, I think? All I recall is that Cab came into my office one day and asked if Kate might be a good fit

The squeal I made was un-manly. Cab took that as a "yes". 😅

I didn't get to talk to Kate until DA2, however. Schedules being what they were, we had a tight window to record Flemeth... so I had to write all her scenes before almost anything else in DA2 was written, before I even had a team! Ack!

It was OK, though, for the most part. I knew where I wanted to take her, and a big part of it was going to explain her transition - to set her up for the future. So I whipped up a script in, like, two days and off we went. Kate was a marvel in the booth. She adored Flemeth and you could really tell.

I didn't get to meet Kate in person, however, until DAI. This came pretty late in its development, compared to when we recorded her for DA2, and we flew down to Virginia (to accommodate her schedule - she was writing her memoir at the time, I think) for a single session. It was going to be *tight*.

I was a mess. I was finally going to meet Captain Janeway... and yes yes, I know she's also more than that. But come ON.

When we sat down, I figured I'd have to talk her through the character all over again. It'd been years since that one session at the start of DA2, right? And even more since DAO.

But, no. Kate remembered Flemeth perfectly.

I remember sitting there as she told me how much she loved the character, how rare it was to get one with so much texture and possibility. She called out my writing - my writing! - and waxed poetic about how she viewed Flemeth's arc. I... I was floored. 🫠

Then we began recording. One issue that quickly reared its head was how Caroline had to speed through the lines if we hoped to finish. Kate was a trooper, and most takes she'd get it in one (which is rare), but I was alarmed because we weren't giving Kate time to read the VO comments on each line.

I brought it up, as there were some lines (so much sarcasm) that required nuance - Kate was getting them, oddly, but I was worried.

"Oh, it's fine," Kate said. "I read the comments as we go."

"How could you? We're going so fast!"

"I'm a speed reader."

Oh. OK, then. That certainly explained it. 😁

We got to the confrontation scene with Morrigan and she nailed it. Over and over. More than once, Caroline would make a call and, before I could even interject and say "no, Kate had it right, actually" Kate would explain exactly why she did it that way and why it worked for Flemeth. I was in love.

She did the "I will see her avenged!" section all in one go. I got chills. Then we got to the final scene.

You know the one. With Solas.

It was this beautiful moment. She took it somewhere quiet and sad... and when she got to that last line, we all felt it: Flemeth was dead. Everyone was in tears.

I suppose I could talk more about the process. How she started off aligned with Morrigan's original Delirium inspiration, but I didn't pull back her loopy way of talking as much (bet you wondered).

I still don't know why it was so easy to slip into her voice, but I'm grateful I got the chance. ❤️

[artist-issues]

because the thing is Viktor’s whole back-and-forth is all about trying to make the world a better place using what’s best about humanity to further technology, right? Like that seems to be his schtick—the Dr. Frankenstein’s “discovery-must-be-good-because-it’s-spurred-on-by-humanity’s-desire-to-improve-things” tropey characterization, right?

I mean I didn’t get very far into Season 1 but that seemed to be the thing they were doing with him. But it was obviously taking a tragic turn when I left it; like, he’s realizing that to “make the world a better place” through “discovery-and-progress,” you gotta break some eggs to make the omelette. Something something about how he didn’t want to let the giant salamander suffer when he was a kid, but then he’s going to let it suffer when he grows up and sees that it’s suffering could further the greater good (starting with saving his own life) or whatever

you know, the unholy matrimony between human empathy’s motivation to “do good” and steadily-marching progress. Eventually “doing good” becomes the end that justifies any means. And then you’re no longer doing good.

So in that way, “invention” can be a medicine which, if drunk too often, becomes a poison.

Just like human emotions. After all, human emotions initially cause the inventor to want to use his skills to prevent harm and improve lives. Emotions can be fuel. But then those same emotions can rupture and rot over time into obsession, pride, self-centeredness, hate, mercilessness. Emotions can be fire.

So what I’m saying is (assuming they kept plodding along that dichotomy-of—responsibility-for-gifting-&-man’s-not-meant-to-meddle-even-if-it’s-for-the-greater-good trope with Viktor in Season 2,—again, I haven’t seen the whole show) the only character that could’ve made sense for Tyler Joseph to write a song about is Viktor.

because he’s always wrestling with the use-versus-the-dangers of human emotion.

On the one hand, his songs show that if you ignore your emotions and try to cover them up with a functional savior (your car radio during long drives, lyrics that mean nothing, a fictional city of emotionless citizens, etc.) you might as well be a zombie. If you cut off or ignore your emotions, you’re not being real, and you’re not seeing the reality that your emotions are trying to warn you about.

But on the dangerous side, if you use emotions too much, give them too much attention, they’ll overpower you and become dangerous. Negative emotions can become all you feel, and then your emotions replace reality. Anxiety, depression, pride-born-of-lack-of-control—give those emotions too much free rein, and you’re a new kind of zombie.

Emotions can be fuel, emotions can be fire, and Tyler Joseph’s always trying to figure out which to use and which to not.

Kind of like how it seemed like Viktor was the kind of Dr. Victor Frankenstein’s “I owe it to the world to get this exactly right” obsessive character…who would go too far with a medicine and turn it into poison. But he has moments of self-awareness where he tragically realizes that’s what he’s doing. That sort of thing lends itself well to twenty one pilots.

[hexxedghost]

Uhh bsky seemed to like this thread when I posted it, so thought I might put it here too.

It's the only smut I've written (and man am I in awe of people who can just write smut all the time, I was in struggle town lads)

Top!Ghost, Bottom!Soap. Little hint of praise kink, I just want Ghost to call Soap a good boy and have Soap's brain melt over it.

Good Boy

In Soap’s defence, it had never happened before. He’d been praised for his work. 

A clap on the back and a ‘Good work, son’ from Price.

A cheeky grin and a ‘There’s a good lad.’ from Gaz

It felt good to have his work recognised. It left a warm, comforting sense of pride in his chest.

But when Ghost rested a heavy hand on his shoulder, leaning over with hot breath against his ear to say: “Good boy, Johnny.”

It nearly takes him out at the knees. The blood rushes south so fast, he nearly blacks out. As he walks away he can feel Ghosts eyes on him, face hot as the stumbles the first few steps.

The prick looks amused. Fucker.

It could have been fine, though, a one-off oddity that he can safely ignore until he’s in the privacy of his bunk.

But it wasn’t just once.

He swears Ghost is doing it just to fuck with him now.

He's sly about it, never saying when it's obvious or going to draw attention.

It's almost like he waits until Soap feels like he's back on solid footing before he casually drops it into conversation.

It was a quick murmur as they leave the helo after a mission, the sound of the chopper blades drowning out everything else as the hand on Soap's shoulder sears him like a brand.

Or an offhand comment when they've gone for a smoke, the words cheeky as Soap hands over the rolled cigarette.

The others don’t notice, too used to tuning out their banter by now. The addition of the occassional 'Good Boy' blending in with all the other colourful commentary they normally keep up.

Which is probably why Ghost feels ballsy enough to pull that shit during a mission.

After Soap has a frantic few seconds disarming a tangle of trips rigged to blow the building out from under them.

"Building safe, copy." he radios out, hands still shaking from how close that call had been.

“There’s a good boy, Johnny.” comes the heavy rasp crackling over the speaker.

On comms for fucks sake! Soap wants to fuckin throttle him.

Ghost is doing it just to get a rise out of him. And he hates that it's working.

Even when they’re at mess afterwards, hail and hearty with a successful mission right behind them, he can't seem to help teasing Soap.

“Nice job on that last one, Tav.” Gaz slaps him on the shoulder as he takes his seat.

“Youngest in the SAS for a reason.” Soap says around a mouthful of food, winking as Gaz pulls a face.

“Was well handled, nicely done, Soap." Price murmurs behind his mug.

"Proper good boy aren't you, Johnny?" comes the rumble at the end of the table.

His cheeks burn as Gaz and Price laugh. They don’t mean anything by it, they figure it's just being lads and taking the piss.

Soap risks a glance at Ghost and sees his eyes trained on him, a glint of something burning and dangerous peeking through the mask.

Christ he was so fucked.

-

It’s later on, past midnight, when he decides that something has to be done about it.

His can't focus when they’re on mission, either fuzzy with lust or trying to walk in a way that doesn't give away he’s hard enough to punch through wood.

He's not putting his squad at risk just because he's tenting his shorts like some hormonal teenager.

The sound of his knuckles rapping against the door feels louder in the late night air.  There's no answer at first, and he wonders if he's made a mistake, should just go back to his bunk.

But then the door opens, Ghost blinking languidly at him.

“Took you long enough.” he rasps.

“Piss off, ye feckin reprobate.” Soap shoulders his way past the door into Ghost's room and throws himself into a chair and feeling a little pissy he’ll admit.

Across the room, Ghost leans against the door, arms crossed and looking at Soap expectantly.

This was going to be like pulling teeth, and he can tell the bastard is amused by it all; eyes seeming to brighten under the mask.

“So, what's your reason, then?” he finally gets out.

“For?” Ghost asks, tilting his head.

Of course, the cunt was gonna make him say it. Part of Soap wants to just give up, storm out. Just go to his room, wank himself unconscious to be done with it.

But Ghost was blocking the door. On purpose, Soap would bet.

“Why do ye keep callin' me a fuckin good boy, eh?” he presses

Ghost holds his gaze and blinks slowly, “Morale”

Fuck it, Soap is leaving, he’s not playing this fuckin game. Even if he has to wrestle the man out of the door. He shoves at the big bastard to move.

“Telling me you didn’t like it, Johnny?” Ghost asks, barely moving from the force of the push Soap gave him.

Soap growls, frustrated, “No’ about that, is it? You dinnae call Gaz or feckin Price that. Is only me you do that to.”

“S’right. Only you.” Ghost counters.

He looks up at Ghost to find that gaze burning into him. This feels dangerous.

“Feelin a bit singled out is all, LT.” he mumbles, hand coming up to awkwardly rub at his neck.

He feels like he's on the wrong foot now, not sure where's safe to step in this minefield of a conversation.

Ghost pushes off the door and moves toward him. It feels like being hunted, and Soap is very quickly learning that apparently he likes that.

He stumbles as the back of his knees hit the bunk and suddenly Ghost is looming above him.

His blood feels molten, too close to his skin and rushing through him. There’s a buzz in his ears and his throat clicks when he swallows.

This close, he can feel Ghost chuckle, feel the hot wet breath on his neck when he leans down.

"D'you want this?" he asks, voice low.

Soap's tongue seems to stick to his mouth, unable to form words.

The prospect of finally getting to have the thing he'd been obsessing over for weeks.

The thing he'd spent the dead of night fucking his fist too, face hot with the shame of it.

It left his head spinning.

Eventually he manages to choke out,   

"Yes. Fuckin' yes, Ghost, pleas—"

He cuts off as Ghost grabs him by his hair, pulling just enough for his scalp to prickle as he growls in his ear.

"Good boy."

The whine that comes out of Soap should be embarrassing, but he's too gagging for it to care.

Ghost lets go of Soap's hair and stands back, just out of reach.  

"Get your kit off then, or do I have to do all the work?"

“Shoulda known you’d be a nasty bastard.” Soap snarks as he pulls his shirt over his head.

“Reckon you like that, Johnny.” comes the smug reply.

Soap ignores him, fumbling for his belt, shoving his pants down to his knees.

His head falls back, groaning lowly as the pressure on his cock finally lets. He goes to take a moment to collect himself. But instead there's rough hands tugging them the rest of the way, boots yanked off and tossed into the corner of the room.

"Impatient aren't we LT?" he jokes weakly, heart hammering in his chest.

The words die out as the bed dips. Ghost straddles him, settling on his chest heavily.

Soap feels like nothing exists beyond him, the way Ghost fills his vision. Calm and collected as he casually unzips and takes himself in hand.

"Done this before, Johnny boy?" he asks lightly, as if he wants to know the weather and not whether Soap's sucked cock before.

"Dinnae flatter yersel' Ghost. No' my first." Soap eventually rasps out, eyeing the thick length in Ghost's hand.  "I can take ye."

Ghost chuckles at that, "We'll see about that."

He taps the heavy head of his cock on Soap’s lips.

“Open up.” he orders.

God fuckin help him, Soap does, and tries to ignore the way his blood fucking sings at the single huff of approval out of the man over him

His head swims at the scent of hot skin and musk, mouth flooding with saliva at the taste of salty skin on his tongue as Ghost steadily feeds him his cock.

Part of him wants to drag his teeth against the tender flesh, just to be a brat, but there are strong hands in his hair and his eyes fall half closed.

Ghost hasn’t even taken his gloves off, still practically dressed.

At the realisation, Soap feels himself moan around the length in his mouth, Ghost's hands tightening in his hair.

“Knew you’d be good for me.” Ghost says, his voice is dark, and eyes bright in the dim light of the room

Soap can feel the sticky pool on his stomach from his cock, already angry red and steadily leaking.

“With me, Johnny.” Ghost demands.

Soap tears his eyes back to the man above him, the lighting making it seem like Ghost's eyes are molten gold.

He can tell under the mask he's smiling.

“There you are sweet'eart.”

He can’t stop the groan that comes out of him, stomach clenching at the petname.

Ghost adjusts his grip on Soap's hair, testing how much he can take before adjusting and rocking his hips forward.

“Just take it, there you go. There’s my good boy, eh?”

He relaxes his throat and breathes deep until his eyes start to water and his head swims with it. He’s already so close and he hasn’t even been touched yet, cock twitching each time Ghost bottoms out.

There's a moment, which his nose buried in the coarse hair at the root of Ghost's cock that he looks up and locks eyes with him. It's like staring at glowing coals, flickering embers held in the dark with a smouldering heat that scalds his blood.

Soap's feels his cock twitch in warning, he's so fucking close, he feels his eyes start to roll back.

But then Ghost smoothly pulls out of his mouth, leaving Soap gasping and blinking away the tears. Lightheaded and dizzy from the sudden rush of oxygen into his lungs.

“Not bad. Reckon there's room for improvement.” Ghost says, chuckling at the frustrated sob Soap lets out against his thigh. There's the soft touch of a hand through his hair, before Ghost moves away, sitting at the side of the bed. Soap throws an arm over his eyes, chest heaving with each breath.

There's the feeling of a gloved hand trailing over his stomach, making him jump.

“Nearly made a mess of yourself, though.” he hears Ghost tease.

“Fuck off” Soap's voice cracks, Christ he sounds wrecked

He looks at Ghost from under his arm, seeing his eyes trace the same path as his fingers had.

“Ye could get more comfortable, ye know?” he grumbles, causing Ghost to look over at him. As much as it had been exciting, he's starting to feel awkward completely starkers while Ghost could zip up and be ready for the tarmac.

“I look uncomfortable to you?”

The bastard is grinning, Soap can tell.

“Ye look like yer dressed for a fuckin funeral.” Soap quips, looking at the ceiling, heart still beating too fast.

“Can’t have you dying before I’ve had my fun.” Ghost teases as he gest to his feet and  strips off.  The pale flesh and scars are devoured by Soap’s hungry gaze as his eyes are drawn back, like a moth to a flame.

As he drops the last piece of clothing to the floor, he looks over to Soap on the bed.

“Mask stays on.” he says, the rest of him bare.

“I dinnae care.” Soap lies.

Both of their eyes tracking how his cock jumped at the idea.

Ghost laughs, not unkindly, “Slag.”

The bed shifts under him as Ghost settles at the end of it. Soap sits up on his elbows, suddenly nervous.

He's no stranger to casual dalliance, to a quick and dirty release stolen in a pub bathroom or if he's lucky someone's flat if they're generous.

But it's Ghost.

It matters. It's not something he leaves in the early hours, hidden in cigarette smoke and strangers mouths. What if it ruins everything?

"Johnny?" Ghost is looking at him, a hand circled around Soap's ankle.

"M'fine," he says without thinking, scrambling for an excuse for his sudden silence, "was jus' wondering how ye want me?"

He goes to roll over, but there's a sudden fierce grip on his hips as Ghost tugs him down the bed, keeping him on his back.

"Wanna see you." is all Ghost says.

Soap feels like his heart is lodged in his throat, as Ghost rummages around in the bedside table.

"You've done this part before, haven't you?" it's a genuine question. But there's that teasing tone to it that has Soap rolling his eyes, falling back into the rhythm of their banter.

"Oh aye, I'm a fuckin blushin virgin." he jokes, kicking out and catching Ghost in the side. "Chaste as a priest, I am."

Ghost glances up at him, the heat still in his eyes.

“Better start praying then Johnny. Won’t be after I’m done with you.“

Soap feels his breath catch at the threat. “That a promise, LT?”

Ghost doesn’t respond, instead just clicks the bottle of lube open, pouring some onto his fingers and pressing two into Soap. There's an intensity to his focus as he presses deeper until they brush against the spot that punches a groan out of Soap.

"There we are."

"Hurry it up will ye?" Soap growls. He'd been trying to ignore the dull ache of being stretched open. But now there was a steady building at the base of his spine, his breath coming in shallow, cock filling out again after flagging.

"Patience is a virtue, Johnny." Ghost murmurs.

Soap winces at the feeling of Ghost removing his fingers, looking down as there’s a pause.

“Ye alright?”

He can't help but ask.

He gets a nod in response.

“Well, come on then. Show me how nasty ye are.” he wiggles his eyebrows and revels in the small huff of a laugh from Ghost as he lines himself up.

“Might regret that, Johnny.” Ghost says, locking eyes with him.

“Regret you takin yer fuckin tim-” he cuts off in a groan as Ghost smoothly presses the head of his cock in, his other hand tightly gripping Soap's waist.

“Fuckin hell, coulda warned me.” he says to Ghost's shoulder.

Ghost hums. "Could’ve.”

“Prick.” Soap lets his head fall back. He relaxes into the feeling, letting his body adjust. Ghost waits until Soap gives him a nod before slowly sheathing himself to the root.

That lightheaded feeling is back as Soap rests his head against Ghost's sternum. That languid bloodwarm feeling of being full trickling up his spine.

“You solid?” he hears from above him.

Soap shifts a bit, feeling the ache of how stretched he was. “Aye.”

“Good.” is all the warning he gets before the first thrust knocks the breath out of Soap’s lungs. His hands come up to grasp at Ghost's biceps, groaning at the drag of skin on skin, wet heat and rushing blood.

It's not gentle, he’s sure he’ll have bruises on his hips to hide for weeks from the whiteknuckle grip Ghost has. But he could tell the bastard was holding back.

“I’m no’ made of glass, Ghost, I can take it.” he bites out.

Ghost laughs in his ear. “Careful Johnny, or I’ll ruin you for anyone else.”

The response is automatic.

“Ye already have.”

Ghost stills and Soap feels immediate panic he’d overstepped.

They hadn’t spoken about what this was.

Whether it was just a bit fun to left off steam or something more that they'd been dancing around for years.

Before he can scramble to come up with an apology, a joke to lessen the seriousness of what he’s just let fall out of his mouth, Ghost gives a snarl.

He snaps his hips forwards and Soap can swear he feels it in his throat.

The grip on his hips tightens so hard it nearly hurts as Ghost drives into him. It feels primal and possessive, heady and addicting as he rakes his nails down pale flesh, urging for more.

Ghost grabs the back of his neck, pulls him forward so he can growl in his ear.

“Made for this aren’t you, made for me.”

It isn’t a question, though Soap thinks he’s nodding. He feels dizzy with it, how much he wants this, how much Ghost wants him.

“Gonna be a good boy for me, Johnny?”

Ghost voice sounds raw, eyes burning as the meet Soap's.

“Fuck.” Soap sobs, it sounds more like a plea than an answer.

“There you are, sweet'eart, show me how well you take me.”

Soap falls back on the bed, Ghost's hand drifting from the back of his neck down to his thighs. He can feel the rough calluses on his skin, feel his teeth nearly rattle as Ghost slams into him.

It’s too much, just on this side of painful and he never wants it to end.

There's a dizzying feeling every time he feels Ghosts cock drag against him in just the right way. There's bruises blooming on his hips under the near deathgrip Ghost has on him.

“Thought about this a lot. How good you'd be for me.”

Soap doesn't have it in him to respond, he feels like he’s sinking deeper into a calm. His body goes lax and boneless, mind buzzing at the pleased growl from Ghost when his body just submits.

“Love seeing you like this Johnny, fucked brainless and still fuckin desperate for me.”

That pulls a whine out him, clenching down around the cock still driving deeper into him. He thought Ghost would be quiet, but each word of praise fills him like warm honey, mind swimming.

“Show me you can come like this, sweet'eart.”

Soap can already feel himself hurtling towards the edge, wrapping an arm around the back of Ghost's neck and pulling him close.  

"Fuck, Ghost, please." he pleads.

He hears Ghost's voice in his ear, raw and rough, “That's it love, be pretty for me.”

That does it.

Soap's entire body seems to lock up for a moment, pleasure sparking through him and settling into the base of his skull with a blistering heat. His cock pulses, untouched and painting his stomach.

“There’s a good boy.” he hears Ghost murmur. He bites down on the meat of Ghost's shoulder to muffle the whine that threatens to make its way out, hearing those words.

As he comes down, dizzy still, his head lolls forward, like his strings have been cut. He dimly registers the twitch of Ghost’s cock inside him, and softly groans at the feeling of it slipping out of him spent.

Soap slumps on the bed without Ghost’s grip holding him, body heavy and lax after the orgasm that was wrung out of him. He should get up, he knows the routine. He should leave so he isn't intruding.

Instead, his eyelids grow heavy and he drifts into darkness.

When he comes back to himself, he's been cleaned up, blanket pulled over him to keep out the chill. There’s a solid weight beside him.

“Back with me?” Ghost asks.

“Solid.” his words sound slurred, but the laugh from Ghost isn’t cruel. Soap pushes himself up so he's sitting, before Ghost speaks again.

"Didn't hurt you, did I?" There is a weight to his words, even though he's clearly trying to keep the tone light.

"Reckon me hips'll have a few bruises. I dinnae mind that though." he glances down at the purple on his side. It's not quite a handprint but enough of a suggestion of one. Showers were going to be fun.

He jumps as Ghost trails a finger over one, gentle and completely at odds with what had caused them.

"I'll keep that in mind." Ghost says. There's something about his voice that's off, doesn't feel like it's hitting Soap's ears like it normally does. He looks over to ask him if he's alright. It takes Soap a moment to realise what’s different.

“Ye weren’t lyin. Yer a bonnie bastard beneath the mask.”

He gets a smirk in response, and his heart fuckin clenches with it. He still hadn’t asked what this meant, for them. He suddenly feels vulnerable, naked and tucked into the covers of Ghost’s bunk.

"Eh, sorry for passing out on ye at the end there," Soap mumbles, his ears burning.

Ghost shrugs, "S'fine. Don't mind."

Thre's a quiet, but the buzzing unease under Soap's skin doesn't settle. Just like before, he doesn't know where to put his feet, worried he'll detonate whatever this is between them.

"Do ye want me to leave?" he asks like an idiot.

“Got somewhere to be?” Ghost raises an eyebrow.

"You reckon there's somewhere I should be?" he counters with another question. It's the same dance they've done for years, always toeing the line but neither crossing. Strange to have the feeling after they've fucked like they'd die without it.

Ghost sighs after a moment, and Soap readies himself for the pushback. The return to status quo.

Instead, Ghost grabs him by his chin, holding his gaze steady.

"If I wanted a quick fuck I've got more than enough offers, Johnny. Wouldn't have risked this."

He rests his forehead against Soap's.

Their breaths merge in the space between them,

"Fucking said before, didn't I? Only you." he says softer this time, thumb absently running along Soap's jawline.

It feels like the minefields behind them. Throwing caution to the wind, Soap moves forward and kisses him.

Something in him settles when Ghost's hand shifts from his chin to cup his face, a warm feeling in his chest that burns brighter than pride as he drags his teeth and gets a nip back in retaliation.

It feels just like the normal back and forth in a strange way that makes him laugh, Ghost grumbling a bit.

"Was enjoying that." he murmurs into the crook of Soap's neck.

"Was enjoying not doing missions half mast, but ye ruined that ye fuckin bastard," Soap counters, frowning as he feels Ghost smile against his skin. He shoves him.

"Ye can't be calling me fuckin good boy in front of the others." he says seriously. As much as his blood sings with how good this all feels, he doesn't want it to effect the team, or his ability to do his job.

"I won't." Ghost says, and actually sounds like he means it. 

He pulls Soap close to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pressing his face into his neck. Sleep doesn't make them wait long.

[deepestdelulu]

Becoming a better student ₊˚⊹♡

Honestly I´ve never been an A student, but I always try to do my best, and I´m very proud of myself, at least in this area of my life. So here I let you know my tips for studying, not getting bored (at all) and having great marks.

Prepare for your classes ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Wake up on time. We don't want to be stressed first thing in the morning, right?

Eat breakfast. So you will be able to better focus in class.

Assigned reading and homework. Make sure you are prepared for your classes!! :)

Review your notes. Going through some of your flashcards before class is really helpful.

Check your bag and charge your devices. Ensure you have everything you need: Books, homework, chargers, pens, water...

In Class ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Listen and pay attention. You can save yourself a lot of trouble by simply paying attention, trust me.

Take notes. My favourite note-taking method is the Cornell method; I can make a separate post on that!! <3

"Quick notes." If you struggle with note-taking, try taking quick and messy notes. You can clean them up once you get home!!

Engage. If you have any questions or don't understand something, make sure to ask!! Most teachers really appreciate students who speak up. :) And remember you can always go talk to them privately.

No distractions. Turn off your phone, no chatting, you'll be glad...

After class ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Finish your assignments as soon as you can. Go home, put on a cosy outfit, have a snack, and get working!! <3

Prepare flash cards. A great way of reviewing your notes, too... :)

Update your Study schedule. Write down any assignment and due dates, reading you must do, upcoming tests, etc...

Clean up your notes. Review them, highlight the important parts, and maybe even make them look cute!! :)

Don't avoid topics/Subjects you dislike. I know it is tempting, but you can't avoid them forever, so you might as well get them done.

Structure and routine ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Goals and Priorities. Keep them realistic and manageable.

Time management. Having a set schedule makes studying less overwhelming; it takes some discipline but is so worth it!! <3

Develop a routine. Figure out what works best for you; I prefer studying in the morning or at night.

No "zero days". Even if you can only do a bit, do it!! NO. ZERO. DAYS.

Remember your goals. Dreams will keep you motivated; remind yourself of what you're working for!! <3

Self-care and balance ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Don't forget about your hobbies. You need to do things that make you happy, so make time for those things!!

Maintain a balanced diet. I know chocolates and junk are tempting, especially when you are busy studying all day, but you're not doing yourself any favours.

Sleep. Sleep. Sleep. 8 Hours. Non-negotiable.

Exercise regularly. Even if it's just a walk, put on some headphones, listen to music, and give yourself a break. <3

Care for your social life. Reach out to your friends, make plans, and keep in touch; a good work-life balance is critical!!

Romanticising ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Study dates. Meet up with your friends at a cosy cafe, discuss your work, and have some fun!! Studying doesn't have to be all serious all the time ;)

Silly Pinterest boards. Visualising your goals will help you find motivation!!

Music to set the mood. Make a playlist to study with, I have lots of them :)

Cosy sweater and candles. The cosy Rory Gilmore vibes haha...

Getting a coffee before class. A little treat before things get serious... Simple pleasures, you know? :)

As always, Please feel free to add your own suggestions and tips in the comments!!

✩‧₊*:・love ya ･:*₊‧✩

[goaskangel]

bookie!

journalist!reader x business-man!hakari

cw...NSFW, slight manipulation, mention of intox, use of "mister" "sir" "doll", dumification, degradation, all the usual smut stuff LOL

word count...4.8k

a/n...this is my first fic ive posted publicly EEEK lowk nervy but i've read like 2 good hakari fics on this mf website and i js figured i might as well do it myself. my writing here IS NOT MY BEST, i plan to indulge into how i usually write. smut is a little harder for me to write so be patient AND NICE PLZ. mdni!please understand what kind of media you are consuming and be smart about it.

just the way hakari presented himself, it felt as if even if you didn’t suspect anything from him, it was obvious he was a secretive and cocky man. from how he dressed with his constant change between pimpy-fur coats and vulgar tanks with his ever-changing colored hair between purples, blacks, and blondes, it was no surprise he must’ve lied his way to the top. 

and even with this assumption, you couldn’t deny the offer of living with him and your company's team. not necessarily living with him but staying in a private luxury hotel, and sure, maybe your job here wasn’t very important as a journalist but your boss insisted on you attending. 

what kind of moron would pass on the opportunity of possibly breaking through one of japan’s wealthiest and slyest business men anyway?

something about interviews but mostly projects, maybe even a documentary went in your ear and out the other when your boss spoke to you about the expectations on this “trip.”

after being stuck on a reserved bus, you finally manage to push through and make it to a not very deserted place. matter of fact it was right in front of a busy street in the busiest city. you stretched your legs, cracked a few fingers, and headed to the entrance of the tall—what seemed to be marbled—hotel. if you could even call it that. seemed like a resort more than anything. you were told your bags full of equipment for work and clothes for the three day project would be handled by security. the front of the building were two big guards protecting any outsiders. pretty confidential for just a few days. it stays on brand with hakari’s whole attitude, a whole ass hotel in the city only allowing a few people with specific identification. 

inside it looked like everybody from every corporate office in town had been messily dragged in.  heavy steel tables were set randomly with even heavier bags and briefcases on top, open with papers and documents spilling out. 

the man himself was sitting at one of the sturdy desks, his head down.

before you noticed that he decided to go purple, left his black blazer on the shoulders of the chair he sat on, you watched as his hand shook carefully on a paper given to him by the lady standing nearby. 

his hot pink eyes dart back and forth across the page. you assume he was looking for another place to sign because he handed it right back to her after examining. hakari returns back to a binded notebook, the pen still in his fingers. he scribbles words down vigorously. part of you wonders what he’s got going on. another part wonders where your room will be. 

you observe the rest of the lobby. you glance at your boss finally coming through security, the dumb, happy guy starts a conversation with almost everyone as he came. he calls hakari over as if they’ve known each other since the dawn of time, and he follows. they greet one another and you go blank on the rest until your name is called. quickly, you turn to face the men again and walk towards them.

"if the interview goes well—which i'm sure it will—perhaps the documentary could follow up.” your boss explains, still turnt to hakari.

“mhm oh yeah man i’m sure of it, yep.” he agrees, mooning. his white button up hugging him perfectly. 

scrunched up sleeves, pen marks on his forearms. a few buttons undone from the neck. 

“this young lady right here is the foundation of the writing department.”

“oh yeah. so i’ve read.” 

he reaches a hand out, “took you a while to say hi.” 

“you seemed busy, signing shit n’ whatnot.” you smile politely and firmly shake his hand. he cheeses a toothy grin, blue and silver gems shine back at you. 

“pardon her words, man. you know how writers are—can write page upon pages yet their mind goes blank when they have a chance to speak—hah.” your boss shines his own nervous smile. 

“ya, know what they say about business men, can talk for hours and hours, spill what seems to be almost everything, and still have secrets.” he darts his eyes to yours before closing and laughing richly with the older man. 

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

you spend the rest of the night cozying up into your hotel room and lazily journaling down ideas, even scraping up an idea against hakari. you stretch your arms after tossing your notebook shut, you glance over at the alarm on the desk,

11:24 P.M. 

it would be a good time to grab a snack, now that everyone should be asleep. at least you hope so as you walk out in casual clothes. 

you toss the room’s card from hand to hand and pass quiet rooms until turning left to the snack bar. you were told earlier that food would be available for the company whenever, so you figured it must be open now too, with all the staff asleep or at their posts. 

there was an incredible aroma of columbian brew with a dash of vanilla dancing with something hot, something fresh out of the oven. you’re greeted with his strong back. shaped tightly, almost too tight, was a simple white tank. on caramel skin, his wide shoulders flexed as he took a small spoon into his mug, tossing sugar packets and singles of liquid creamers into a trash bin. but it doesn’t really phase you. what were the chances of somebody being here? let alone hakari. it’s ironic and mostly awkward. 

you could’ve left but the pastry before you was calling your name. how awkward could it really be?

you walk towards the counter he was just at, he who was walking back to a two-chaired table. 

“it’s almost midnight.” he speaks and you freeze as if you’ve been caught. obviously, you haven’t, so you quickly grabbed a floral napkin and the pastry. 

“writers stay up late, i know that. but they’re usually alone.”

“well how was i supposed to know somebody else was gonna be up? it is almost midnight.”

“you’re the one writing stories about me and talking shit, i’d assume you’d know everything about me.” he grins as he pulls a chair out, sitting in it and slowly stirring his coffee. steam swirls up from the cup. “take a seat.” 

you walk to him and pull the other chair out, sitting quietly. you break apart the food in your hands and eat it piece by piece, examining the table subtly. 

he’d been sitting there for a while; papers closed a binder with a few pens spilt around. an empty chip bag, a few crumbs near the bottom of the coffee cup, his hands warming up around it. 

his hands were nice.

you swallow casually and look back at him. “you read my stuff? which one of your little employees do you have search for works written about you, huh?” 

“i find ‘em myself, ‘nd you're lucky i don’t report them. can’t have nasty stuff circulating around me, whether if it’s true or not.” 

“—or should i call them workers instead?” you ignore him. 

“your writing is admirable.” 

something about that made you lose track of what you were saying. 

you lay back in your chair and mumble an okay. 

you watch as he takes a sip of his sugared coffee, the steam cupping his face gently and flowing up. 

“so when do you sleep?” 

“i’ll go in a couple,” he says, cracking his knuckles. “schedule’s got all fucked ever since i got here. my manager—and don’t tell her i said this—doesn’t understand the concept of time, or maybe she’s fucking with me. how can i get three hours of paperwork done, meetings between each pile, ‘nd make phone calls back to back, but can’t stay up late?” 

“damn, you’ve even got your sleep schedule sorted?” 

“gotta sneak out here like some goddamn teenager. it’s no big deal, she’s knocked out at 10. jus’ gotta keep kissing her ass and thank her for taking such good care of me. she won’t suspect a thing.” 

you giggle at the irony, “might as well be your girlfriend.” 

“god, more like my mom.” you can see the outline of his tongue grazing his teeth as he grins. probably feeling the gems on his smile, you cross your legs at the view. 

funny and handsome. 

speaking of closing your thighs—you remember you have to get back to your room. 

“we’ve got just three days,” you say as you stand from your chair, “i’m sure we’ll have to work our asses off tomorrow.” hakari looks up at you.

“hmm nobody tell you wha’s happening either?” 

you shake your head and carefully bite the inside of your lip. 

“m’kay. have a good rest of your night, then.” he nods back down and sips his coffee. his tone indicated he practically knew you weren’t sleeping immediately. to enjoy the rest of your night. 

“yeah, i’ll make sure of it. goodnight.” 

as happy as you were to receive a half-vacation, half-business trip at a hotel – the benefits of not having to wake up early just to drive almost an hour to work everyday, the entire company just being outside, your hands would not suffice. you thought to yourself earlier, how great it’d be to stay in a nice, cool room and wind down from a long day. keeping dirty fantasies in your head and just when you thought the tight, small circles on your heat could master an orgasm. but the thought of him kept interrupting. 

a hand crawling up your neck and the other circling underneath your panties. closing your eyes as you concentrated on silver-haired men kissing your breasts, guys who stunk of cigarettes and coffee making out with your clit, god anybody willing to run their hands on your body. you jolt at the sudden twitch of your cunt, your back arching slightly. you groan. the man you’ve been practically stalking and have to work with is now appearing in your head while you masturbate. you switch the bedside lamp off and take off-white sheets over yourself. 

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

on the second day, you pass new people while walking down narrow hallways. each person looking more tired than the one before. you notice just how many people could fill up the lobby and snack bar. as enticing the syrup from breakfast smelled, you keep your distance from everybody else. carefully, you lick the inner of your lips and taste the lipgloss you applied earlier. 

now popping your lips, backing up slowly, still examining the room until you feel what seems to be a pillar or wall behind you. 

“hey… you got a light?” behind you. tall, peeping over you – was that a fur coat? hakari watches everybody else almost as intently as you were. 

you stutter before reaching into your coat’s pocket, “yeah.” he takes it and quickly lights the now-appeared-cigarette of his mouth. 

“a smoke for breakfast? that can’t be healthy.” you cross your arms as he flips the lighter in the air. 

“it wouldn’t have been, hun, we had breakfast this morning already. don't you remember?” he exhales smoke that passes your jaw, making you shudder. 

“here, sounds like you need it.” he says the last part through his teeth, pinching the end of the cig and lowering it to your mouth. you glare to your side and lean in to wrap your lips around it, inhaling. you pull away and spew smoke out much more discreetly. he takes another, blowing it out, licking his lips, “tastes like bubblegum.” 

after set-ups and mic-checks in steel stools and numerous questions, you’re sitting in front of a laid-back hakari. his legs man-spread and his hands fixing his hair every other second. a very specific rage comes back to you. the same anger that you felt staying up to post blogs about complicated, but evident-filled, theories and what you truly think is the truth about the man sitting in front of you. the feeling is nostalgic. your nerves are overfilled with different emotions – since when could a man controlling so many industries, controlling so many people and still handle an underground fight club while acting like a semi-normal person? but normal people don’t wear fur-fucking-coats on the regular, let alone keep illegal ranges where people fight like bears just to be bet on like horses. 

two cups of steaming coffee are placed in the high-wooden table between you and hakari. 

“this part of the interview will be audio-presented. the second part will be videotaped.” the host of the section stands above the recorder, the rest of the crew standing around or still finishing breakfast. “etiquette for the tape is pretty simple – ‘ms and mr’ is usually set and the rest is self-explanitory.” 

you nod kindly and look at the man, meeting his eyes, ones that perhaps never left you. 

easy, almost-boring questions are asked but it hadn’t prepared you for what was going to come. the questions slowly make less and less connection and stay focused on hakari. “ethicality is mentioned within businesses and is no exception to your work, ms l/n.” before being asked the repetitive question, the topic being how many times can we make hakari look like a god in one tape, you interrupt the host. 

“morals are nowhere to be found in such work. there’s – again – no sense.” now slouched, hakari responds, “tell me, when searching for a job that pays well, were you interested in the pay or how many hours you had to work? ‘s there something you w’na say about being able to survive or how comfortable you are?” 

“sometimes it just boggles me to think about how one person needs more than one business. is it for fun, mister?”

“is what for fun, girl?” 

“is being a con-man to violent people and making them believe knocking each other’s teeth out will help for fun?” 

the host stutters and gets shushed, “well, you’re very right. that wouldn’t be ethical at all.” he smiles very faintly. too faintly for you to lash out and not make it seem like you’re crazy. 

“untruthful about being a bookie and fight-promoter. does gachinko ring a bell?”

“any more questions? how about all my employees' salaries? wanna know my salary? how’s about ‘you busy after this?’” 

the recorder falls off the foldable table after being shaken, “for the love of god.” your boss yells and stops. scrunching his fat nose and pinching the bridge. “that was the fourth time. i just… you know what, we’ll continue tomorrow morning. kinji you’ve got a meeting we’ve, i’ve, been trying to hold off but it seems like everybody’s in the mood for a break.” he walks to the exit of the lobby, followed by some of his crew. hakari gets up, exhaling and cracking his fingers and wrists. 

“almost as good as your writing. but writers always gotta fuck up while speaking.” he picks up the recorder from the ground and tosses it to the full cups of coffee. 

“are they going to post it?” 

he shakes his head. 

“then what?” 

“might do it all again tomorrow. a little more strict, too. it’s not like it was a bad tape either. just like you know, i can’t let shit spread around about me. i would never allow it.”  

you scoff and watch him walk off, cursing under your breath.

it’s the evening when he comes back, bringing a few drunk men through the guards. you nod your head back and forth between your open laptop and the men that find their wobbly way to the lounge's couches. you tune out their slurred talk and how hakari’s joking gets belly-laughs from them. he cackles with them, clapping his hands bluntly. he sighs, tears in his eyes, as he walks past the random suitcases and desks spread-about. 

you type away at your slightly dull keys, clumsily taking your gel-pen and drabbling a note down. 

“workin’ hard, i see.” you feel a heavy hand land on your left shoulder and glance over to the other side of the desk, hakari’s ringed-fingers tapping away at the steel. 

“what’re you writing down…” he mumbles and leans over obnoxiously. you lean back in your chair, looking at him looking at your notes. 

“god, are you drunk? didn’t you just have a meeting?” 

“drunk? nah, i don’t get drunk.” 

“i can smell the whiskey from your breath.” 

“ah-ha, you knew i drank whiskey, huh. looks like even an overworked girl like you knows how to have fun, too.” he looks at you with literal joy in his pupils. face tampered with blush while smiling like a hyena. “anyway,” he stands back up, the grip on your shoulder falling to your bare-arm. “even your handwriting is nice.” 

“uh-huh…” you press your thighs together, feeling the cold metal of his jewelry on your skin. his hand so big compared to your arm. part of you hopes his long gaze is down your blouse. 

it is.

“ya look good.” he speaks through the rasp in his throat but all you hear is a mutter, he gives your arm a squeeze before patting it and walking toward the corridor of rooms. 

you let out a shaky sigh and feel yourself burn up, staring at your yellow-notepad. hakari strides to his room, the last room of the hallway, stretching his arms. he takes a gold card out and shoves it into the slot. 

he lets out a serene moan when his back hits the bed. tossing his keys, phone, and whatever junk out of his pockets onto the nightstand. his large coat following. he groans and kicks off his shoes. something still bothering him. he reaches his hands down to his belt and unravels it, throwing it down. unbuttoning and zipping to comfort the ache below his stomach.

god, how hard could a guy get from one conversation? his slit brows raise as he grins, taking his weeping cock and holding the base.

thinking about all the things you’d say, 

you’re so vulgar. not enough action recently, huh? what stress’ll do to ya…

“yeah, baby, stress.” he takes his other hand and taps the underside of his cock in his palm. closing his eyes and imagining your sweet self between his legs, those same tits in his view. your pink tongue lolling out for him. “finally shut that smart-ass mouth up… use her for something fuckin’ useful.” he groans, stroking himself. 

what makes him throb is how dumb you’d gotten when his hands were on you. how fucking sweet and quiet you went when his fingers stroked your arm, weren’t you exposing him just a couple of hours ago? what a desperate girl. he swears out as he jerks spurts of come onto his clothed shirt. “yeah, hmph god, yeah, that’s good..” he pants like a dog, eyes going heavy. 

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

another day passes and you haven’t come. guilt swats your hand away everytime you try, anyway. you start to get sick of the syrup and eggs roaming the air. you sit at the same spot from last evening and observe the room.

half of your company is eating breakfast or still passed out on the couch. the others, probably asleep or dealing with tech. your boss walks towards you and places a cup of coffee down in front of you. 

“we oughta work on you, huh? hah!” he stirs wood in his own cup. 

“you’re not hungover? i’m surprised you’re up this early.” 

“gotta stay professional, ya know…i only had one shot. maybe a couple. this coffee’s really good, drink some.”

“right because drinks on the second day of a work-trip is highly professional.”

“hey, come on.” he frowns and drinks a sip of his obviously too hot roast. “where is everybody? hell, where’s kinji?” he drifts off to a new group of people near the snackbar. 

the lobby fills again with the occasional technical difficulty, yet no hakari to be found. you wish you could throw it off and be so disconnected that you didn’t even realize the star wasn’t here like some of your colleagues, but you kept your eyes on that same corridor. the loud bitch from the room on the tallest floor went through your ear and out the other. you didn’t even realize the fly that was constantly buzzing had been trying to get your attention. 

“do you know where kinji is?” she was beautiful but still his assistant, loud and fussy like a bad mom. if she didn’t know where he was, how were you supposed to know? you put on a concerned look with a little smile, “might be in his room.” you get up and begin walking to the hallway, how the hell did they not check his fucking room? you swear your eyes roll so far to the back of your head, that if you didn’t have ears to hear the bitch’s loud heels clacking, you could’ve seen her behind you. you turn to the last door on the right and knock, remembering how many men had to carry luggage upon luggage inside. 

“hello? mister, we’re waiting on you.” you knock faster than time. “hakari?” the door swings open and your hand is met with another. before you can say anything, he shushes you and looks around, pulling you into his room and says, “give me a’minute. take a seat.” he leaves. by seat he probably refers to his bed, the entire room cluttered by stuff. you sit on the edge of his bed and sigh, taking a moment to collect what just happened.  

he was shirtless. the bathroom door being open and light on explains why, he’d taken a shower. the mirror was still foggy and the towel hung on the door’s hanger. there was a faint smell of vanilla and something floral. you would’ve been pissed to be in a messy room like this but you figured it was better than being out with everybody else. 

the door opens again and a calm hakari walks in, closing the door and locking it. 

his hair is damp but you only notice how he’s clothed in a towel. one that hangs low at his hips. 

“everybody’s waiting, and you’re not even dressed yet.” 

“s’fine, y/n. i bought us some time. these people, they’ll listen to whatever i say.” he says with a smile, and you look back at him with confusion.

“but the interview…?” your mouth drops gently when his hand comes to hold your face. 

he sighs and looks up and away. your legs are shut and you swallow the sudden pool of saliva in your mouth as your eyes are fixated on his sharp, shaved jawline and how his adam’s apple flexes as he speaks. “this job’s real tough, i know it is, ‘nd you want a break. doesn’t everyone?” he looks back down at you, his eyes filled with what seems to be.. lust? you furrow your eyebrows and nod slowly. he carefully puts some hair behind your ear and leans down to whisper against your skin, “w’na be a good girl and take some of that stress away from the both of us?” he kisses a part of your jaw, “my good girl?” 

oh god. 

did you write half of your career on this greedy man just for him to be licking your ear? leading a hand to your button-up and slowly undoing the pearly clasps? 

his hand now on your bare leg, going up and up your mid-pencil skirt. you feel yourself get dizzy from the thought of him feeling your lacy panties, holding a hand on his strong shoulder, his skin slightly wet. did you wear them on purpose? you can’t think. he stands back up, his hand slithering and rubbing the back of your neck. breathing heavily, you start to undo the rest of your shirt’s buttons. “yeah, there ya go.” he encourages you until your laced bra is exposed. 

he hooks a finger on the side of your panties and tugs them off, you reach under your skirt and tug the other side. he takes both sides and peels away, “mhhm, always liked a matching set.” your skin burns at embarrassment, not from what he said but how wet the middle of your core was and how drenched the crotch of your panties were. 

“a lil��� kissin’ got you this soaked, huh? you want this? ain’t you just sweet, doll.” he throws it to the corner of the bed and hums when you nod. “s’quiet when you’re needy.” hakari pushes two fingers at your lips just when you thought you could finally say something. “open.” he demands gently and grins when you comply. they find their way to the middle of your mouth and you can’t help but suck softly. “mhm that’s good, suck ‘em good. cost about’a milli’ each, heh.” he takes them out and pushes you slowly onto your back, spreading your legs, holding one up with a burly arm. 

“fuck.” is the only thing you manage to let out when he bunches your skirt up to your waist.

“be quiet f’me now.” he spits a glob onto his two fingers and presses them to your clit. you gasp at the content. 

“so wet.” he mumbles.

circling tight, slippery rounds on your aching bud. the guilty friction you’ve been craving finally went through. a sudden warmth and pleasure take over your pelvis. heat rises to your upper body, your hands slightly shaking and your ears burning, god, what were you doing? you watch and feel his dirty mastered hand bring you shame. your entire career faltered just for your fulfillment, the guilt so heavy, it makes you moan out. 

“huuh, mister – shit, i need it.” you speak whispers breathlessly. 

“yeah? you need it, baby?” he brings his focus to your pathetic expression, pushing and curling two fingers into your cunt. you moan out and watch, feel, as his fingers pump in and out of you. his hands are skilled as they break you open little by little. “sweet girl with a needy cunt, must’ve hit the fuckin’ jackpot.” your clit throbbing as you watch him grope himself and ease his own ache through the white towel. 

“c’mon, please sir.” you tap the side of his waist with your heeled foot. 

“patience, girl.” he pulls his fingers out and pats your vulva a few times before pulling your body close to his. his hand finally, finally pulling down the towel. the thing that kept distracting you from nights of sleep now dripping pre just above your heat. he gives himself a couple of strokes, long and heavy as your body begged, driving yourself closer ‘til your ass was almost off the bed. 

“shh shh.” he rubs his wet tip against your folds as you start begging quietly, your slits sloppily kissing. he groans when your cunt flutters, pushing himself into the first tight muscle.

you writhe at the sudden burn, making you mewl ever-so quietly. 

“be a good girl f’me.” he presses a hand on your lower stomach in comfort before moving his hips forward with no intent of stopping until he’s bottomed out. you moan long whines and grind your body down to try and get more, the stretch already burning. “fuck, goddamn it.” the warmth you bring him is unmatched, all he can think about is how hot you feel.

“fuck me – wan’ more.” you clench down and get a moan out of him. his hands hold down onto your plush thighs as he rocks back and forth into you, your folds swallowing him whole everytime. your throat burns at the way you choke out whimpers, drool seeping from the sides of your plump lips. “what’s your company g’na think of you now, hmm? director of the – fuckin’ writing department– their smart girl’s gotta fuck it all up cause she couldn’t resist some cock.” his hips start to fasten and he keeps a tight grip on your legs, your pretty, fucked out, face stays red. “‘s okay, pretty. you ain’t gotta say nothing, jus’ take it like the dumb girl you are and i’ll forget about all the mean little things you said, mhm?” 

“uh-huh.” your head’s spinning from the grinding he’s now doing, the underside of his cock rubbing back and forth and back and forth on the rough spot inside of you. your thighs tremble as you feel yourself getting close. you get louder and hiccup about how good it is.

“ya – yesyesyes please awh fuck,” your hands groping at the back of your neck and the hard nipples of your breast as you arch your back off of the white sheets, “coming – oh god kin’ i’m gonna come, come. thank you thank you…!” the hard waves of heat and fuzziness take up what seems to be your entire body as you cream all over the base of his cock, hakari still pumping himself inside, riding your release out. “god, fuck, baby. stay still.” eagerly, he takes his hard-on out and jerks himself above your mound before coming straight, hot lines of cum onto your stomach. 

he pants, “you wanna talk to me about my morals?”

“jesus fuck. shut the fuck up.” 

[sciderman]

(Idk if someone asked this already) since we’re on the topic of gender

sci what is gender to you and how do you see it in you and how you express it in your art?? (Just a young queer artist who wants some light shined upon them 🥺)

i 'unno ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[gio-cosmo]

Yk I wasn’t originally planning to talk abt my ao3 account on here but I don’t really gaf anymore. Embarrassment is a concept. Embrace joy and whimsy.

..anyways! If you want to read some of my works my ao3 account is bittersweet_serendipity ^_^ I love to write and am always aiming to improve. I state this a lot in authors notes, but if you ever spot any major weak points or mistakes in my writing, feel free to point them out to me! Constructive criticism helps a ton.

Do be aware that my older works (aka the first 2 I published) are literally filled to the brim w grammar mistakes like it’s actually baffling 😭 we should all collectively ignore those for the sake of my mental sanity actually! <3 I need to go back and edit them but I keep pushing it off ughh…someday.

[ceiling-karasu]

A bit more of world building with a possible OC, White-Naped Crane focused.

I know that I mentioned in a previous world-building post that the White-Naped Cranes were part of a ruling priest class, in the old Joseon style species caste system, that was overthrown generations ago in my AUs.

The caste system is based around the idea of Confucianism, with the ideas of ritual performance and piety towards a leader. This is combined slightly with Shamanistic and Hindu values that somewhat did influence the traditional Korean values, that hold that an authority figure should make rules and laws for the good of the family/community, all turned into a religion that held the caste system and separation of species as holy.

Although, whether the cranes fully worship this idea, or just want to reclaim the power they used to have, is a mystery they keep to themselves.

In real life, White Naped Cranes live in the demilitarized zone of North Korea, but will migrate to other countries each year, primarily to Japan, where they depend on a specific sanctuary to feed them.

(White-Naped Crane migration distribution)

I find that it does make sense for the majority of the population of White-Naped Cranes to go to Teikoku (Japan) during their migration, since the kingdom there would welcome the Cranes due to shared shamanistic beliefs, as well as possible information sharing about Flower Hill. Flower Hill doesn't necessarily like this, but the White-Naped Cranes are traditionally from Flower Hill, so for diplomatic purposes and migration rights, they are allowed to stay for now, even if they do run large temples in the south of the peninsula that the weasels flock to. Besides, their ability for Opera performances is superb at festivals (very popular in North Korea).

Their migrations have them bring back strange, new ideas of subservience to emperors and the old caste system, and they cause enough disruptions with their preaching that Flower Hill considers revoking their traditional permits to come and go as they please.

The carnivores in the south still believe that they are superior to smaller animals, so the cranes' preaching is more welcome there. Especially since Teikoku left a few colonies down there.

Which brings up the concept of migrating species that I will have to figure out, but I assume such travel will be allowed unless it will be too dangerous. There are small birds in the show that appear non-sentient at first glance, since they don't wear clothes, but they can also talk and participate in festivals.

But most of the migrating species in Korea do appear to be the cranes. Ducks migrate as well, but I assume that the ducks in the show have eschewed that tradition since they are part of the navy.

So, I have created the leader of the White-Naped Cranes, Chongsu (Superior/Supreme leader). She is also a mudang shaman who participates in traditional rituals, as much as Flower Hill participates in those other than enjoying operas. Since the role of such a leader is hereditary, her father was the previous leader, who passed away due to a mysterious illness. However, she is rather young, and also sickly, so cannot leave her temple for long periods of time, and certainly not without an escort.

(I'll find an OC generator that does cranes eventually. Or I'll just draw one myself)

Her biggest wish and command is for all races and species to get along with each other. What she does not realize, is that as the supreme leader, this could possibly be misinterpreted as a command for her people to reinstate the caste system, by any means possible, which could even mean teaming up with weasel or tiger leaders who also wish to return to the caste system.

As the leader of her group, she does occasionally have to meet with the Commanders of Flower Hill, but is sickly enough that the higher priests that serve as her guards often speak for her.

This makes the Flower Hill Commanders very suspicious of the White-Naped Crane population, because after all:

The Commanders are very aware of the power she wields over the White-Naped Cranes, and that she could be manipulated into giving orders to perform hostile actions. They just don't know when it could happen, but assume it will due to their friendly relations with the enemy. But ordering the Cranes to stop leaving the country, investigating their loyalty, or ordering them to leave since they do share more beliefs with Teikoku than Flower Hill, could be seen as an illegal purge or discrimination towards a minority group by the international Hague courts, which would get Flower Hill in trouble and decrease support.

Since I am roughly using the world map as seen in the show, I am making up some names for countries that are somewhat related to the country and culture. Also, mostly focusing on countries that have strong relations with North Korea, both good and bad.

I will be going with the idea that Rabbit Village is China. The police work with Flower Hill in capturing 'escaped criminals.'

Chaand Hadia (Moon Gift) is Pakistan. This country has a close relationship with North Korea in real life, to the point of smuggling in nuclear weapons.

Japan will be called Teikoku (Imperial State/country). They have tried to take over the Peninsula in the past, but an internal civil war and economic strife forced them to leave their colonies behind.

South Korea, with the weasels, I would think would be the colonies left behind, which still believe that Teikoku want them to take over Flower Hill, and possibly the continent. However, since the ideals and culture have drifted away from proper Teikoku values, it is unknown if their parent country wants anything to do with them. I have decided to call the country Usuhan Jiyeog (Superior Area/Territory). They also believe in weasel/carnivore superiority, and thus see Flower Hill as weak, and ripe for the taking.

Supposedly, the Wolf Unit represents America, to the point that US can be seen printed on merchandise in relation to the wolves. So I guess I'm calling the country the wolves came from the Unites States Alliance.

Jindo Dog Island (or Jindo empire), is an actual place. It is the only location that has the authorization to breed the National Korean Jindo Dog. The waters there can be very dangerous, so it makes sense to turn it into a powerful nation.

I also made up a country named Chambelli Koh, which is Urdu for Flower Hill, which will be used for a different AU. Although it could be used by both Flower Hill and Chaand Hadia as a buffer zone, since any invading weasels coming from that angle would take over that small country first.

[lightbulb-warning]

*yearning* id be so powerful if i knew what the fuck i was doing. at all. at any time.

[tracle0]

!!!writing!!!

[leatherbookmark]

wondering if koga or adonis are going to get some more character development or like Not Really, because. koga's got his stuff in the ! era, which, fine! new players have absolutely no idea what happened and how important his current dynamic with rei is, it's cool, hurts only a little bit!, meanwhile adonis is still... trapped in his unfortunate character trope... that i doubt he'll ever break out of.

i'm not expecting either of them to do a complete 180 obv, but i do actually want to see koga figure himself out as, how to put it, an individual musician with his own style*? and if i have to read about how adonis is big scary huge and terrifying** at first glance, but actually, wow! what a surprise! kind, quiet and gentle once you talk to him even ONE more time, i'm going to snap.

*i'm just kinda biting my hands here because there are bighuge neons in my brain pointing out that koga's path should have him as a some sorta representative of undead ? temporary leader perhaps? considering everything we've learned in crossroads AND the fact that he mentions in his initial story how he's the least popular/known member and he wants to change it On Top Of wanting to face rei as equals, like. augh. put him in a situation please

**he's not.

basically both of them could use some activities separate from 2mkb, whether as a duo or individually, or perhaps as leaders of their respective shuffle units, but considering the next ud event is rei and shuffles probably won't return until after the climax series is over... it's Gonna Take A While I Think

[redhoneysugarorange]

At some point, I'd like to think Danny would offhandedly say something about traveling back to his home town, Amity Park, for a month or so.

When the batfamily ask about it, he says his parents wanted him to look over something. Danny asks if they'd like to go with him, but those present couldn't be away for so long because of various reasons (vigilante business like open cases or other undercover work). So Danny shrugs, hugs them goodbye, and promises to make them something cool when he gets back.

Danny kept in touch with the batfamily until a week and a half in, where he didn't answer any calls and his phone kept going to voicemail. It's radio silence. The batfamily resolves to figure out what happened to him, and travel to Amity Park.

I imagine that once the family gets there, they realize that there's something really wrong with this town. They do ask around about the Fenton's and Danny, and people talk about how the Fentons tend to be smart but kinda off their rocker. This the batfamily gets to learn more about Danny.

(Let's just say they were shocked to learn about Danny's fistfight with the Mayor, him saving an endangered species, and seeing the various strange objects the Fentons have created around town.)

The people will then make offhanded comments about not seeing the Fentons in a while, and they were wondering why the roads were safer.

The investigation leads to the definitely not legal house of the Fentons. The batfamily are slowly learning and coming to some correct and some incorrect conclusions as they make their way through this heavily armed homely house, looking at the pictures of Danny and his family and friends.

(... There's a girl who looks like him, just younger. Danny has only mentioned an older sister who they could clearly see in the pictures, who is this?)

The search ends at a locked heavy metal door with fancy security, the most sleek part of the entire house, seeming to lead to the basement. With a growing sense of dread, the batfamily attempt to get through the door. Eventually they break through the door, and ready themselves to look for what was beyond.

A wrecked lab empty of people, green glowing stains splattered about, and a large empty frame of some sort of portal were not at all what they were expecting.

(is this just an excuse for the family to go to Amity? Mayhaps... But I think it would be a perfect opportunity, the batfamily so rarely leaves Gotham in these fics. Let them figure out some things about their seemingly normal practically their father figure. )

I love every fic That has Danny still being Phantom even while in the DC universe but sometimes I just want my little guy to flex his intellect and be all around little mad scientist that only sometimes uses his powers to pick up a screwdriver

Danny is smart.

He knows he is brilliant.

He may have been outshined by his family when he was younger, but that was because his focus was on something else, and frankly, being born last into a family of geniuses made one feel like one wasn't as intelligent as them.

He constantly compared himself to them, knowing that they had already achieved what he was doing and falling further and further behind in his self-wellow.

Then Danny left Amity Park and went into the real world.....he found his intelligence got him far. Danny was exceptionally brilliant when he was working on machinery, chemistry, and, above all else, engineering.

Maybe it had something to do with watching his parents repurpose any household item into a completely new technology that affected beings from different dimensions simply because they used math.

Or maybe it was that his brain was always moving, always connecting, and constantly processing. Danny didn't realize that people couldn't just make whatever idea came into their heads a reality.

Hell, his dad heard about Mr. Freeze's ray and he made a copy in two months. Danny made Mr. Freeze's ray in two weeks. He made other ghost tech in that same amount or enough to arm his schoolmates in one afternoon.

The point is that Danny is good at what he does. Put a screwdriver in huis hand, and he be off until whatever hair brain idea he had a physical form.

Everyone in Amity Park knew this as a fact about the Fentons/ Since they moved in, there was nothing but experiments one right after the other. Sure, they wasted it on things like Ecto-studies, but his parents made their money from somewhere before the world learned about ghosts.

Danny's parents had many, and he means many, patents. Everything from a brand of microwaves to vehicle parts.

His parents created them, sold them to partial rights to companies, and then wasted whatever money they got on some new experiment for a ghost that had not yielded any fortunes.

He thought he could do the same. Just apply to anywhere that would take him after creating a portable phone changer on one's wrist. He figured it would have gotten less attention than he did hadn't he just shown up at Wayne Expo as an unknown inventor through his parents contacts.

Danny had felt relatively small with his foldable plastic table and his four cardboard boxes of his invention while everyone had booths and screens, and a few even had prominent speakers with people in suits that cost more than his house

. Danny felt like a little kid trying to sell lemonade in the five-star hotel lobby. Everyone walked right by him without a glance, or they jeered and mocked him.

That was until Bruce Wayne wandered over. Kind and charming the man, maybe he wasn't the brightest- but he stood there listening to Danny excitedly explain how moving the hand on the bracelet caused it to charge, so walking around with it was all the kinetic energy it needed.

His ward- Dick Grayson, in all his tiny ten-year-old authority, had purchased a bracelet from Danny. It had been the only sale he made that night, but it was the only one he needed. Bruce had called him to offer him a position at WE.

Like his parents, Danny enjoyed his freedom, so instead, he offered to be a freelance inventor. He would show the Wayne's first dibs but go where the wind took him. He made them if he found buyers who weren't trying to ice him out of profits.

Unlike his parents, he didn't waste the funds past his travels. Slowly but surely building up a fortune over time.

Danny still went out as Phantom, but over the years he invented random gadgets and chemicals that he would ship to Bruce for a healthy paycheck. Ussually he makes something that the rich man off-handedly comments on.

"Oh Danny, I just loved skydiving, but I'm scared Dick's parachute will get stuck."

Danny invented one with small rocket blasters Bruce could manually control into landing for his son.

"I always enjoy undersea diving. The tanks are a killer on my back. Jason was almost weighted down by them too."

Danny created a breathing mask that had the tanks in smaller easier-to-carry cylinders.

"Tim really loves his computers. Wish I could take the whole thing with me when I go out!"

Danny had a working computer on a heliographic wristwatch the next month.

It was awesome. Danny traveled a lot but always found time to call and speak with Bruce. He got to know the man well over the years, found himself chatting with him for hours, and even spent his visits to Gotham at Wayne Manor as a guest.

Bruce's kids were a riot to be around. He would often go away for a while only to return and find that they had grown in numbers. He loved them like his own and found himself a confidant among the children.

It was he that Dick called to whispers about his insecurity within Bruce's home. He would go to all the gymnastics and mathletes shows he could catch, cheering the loudest among the rich parents as Dick outshone the rest of the children.

Danny had practically flown home to rip Bruce a new one until the man admitted to his gapping son that he had applied to be his father mere months after taking him in.

It was Danny that Jason spoke to when Dick and Bruce's fights were too loud. He would take the boy on trips, and talk for hours about books to calm down, then he had sat Bruce and Dick down to rip another new one.

It was no surprise that Jason had called him when he had tried to run away to confront his birth mother. He had been there to see the bitch arrested before she could hurt Jason.

It was Danny that Tim often sought out to showcase his photos. He always made sure to call the boy right before he was meant to sleep, regardless of which part of the world Danny was on, to wish him goodnight and talk about their days.

Tim always brightened whenever Danny caught his skateboard competitions or club performances. He was the one who found out Tim's biological parents neglected him after the boy told him, and he was the one to help Bruce win custody.

Then came Damian, who was as scared as he was angry. Danny adored him and saw so many ghost-like mannerisms in him that connecting to the boy wasn't hard at all.

Bruce didn't seem to understand that his son was used to outlined expectations and grew irritable when he felt he failed them. He was the one that help Damian get used to his environment and was the one the boy was much more willing to try new things with.

Steph and Danny often got along well with their sense of humor, but mostly she followed him around, seeking approval that likely missed out from her parents. They would sit down and talk about her future and what she wanted in life, and he even let her practice her makeup on him and giggle about boys.

Sometimes, it felt like she didn't have to be the tough girl from the rough part of town. She could be a teenage girl without a care in the world. At least, that's what she claimed Danny made her feel like.

Cass didn't talk much, but she didn't have to for Danny to not see how much she enjoyed their days out, too.

He loved taking her to see the arts, to sit and listen to music together, and most of all, to see her slowly bloom into a sociable young lady so different from the closed-off girl that first arrived at Wayne Manor.

Duke was still relatively new, but Danny could spot the wild, unhinged look in his eye that would have made him a proper Fenton. The two often spent their time playing video games and working in the community together.

Duke seemed to enjoy when Danny invited him to tag along on short trips, especially when the two would go camping. As someone who grew up in the city, he had never been fishing until Danny taught him how to reel in a big one at a lake a state over. The whole Wayne family had cheered the dark skin boy on as he held the trout over his head for the photo.

Alfred treated him like one of the family sometimes meeting up with Danny on his travels for a cup of tea or a nice phone call to gossip about Bruce.

Danny loved it but adored when the Waynes would help with his inventions. Even if all they did was sit in his makeshift lab inside his RV or the west wing of Wayne Manor like Bruce did, having them made his hands fly faster and his calculations sharper.

Sometimes, he caught the strangest, softest look on Bruce's face when Danny would be wielding.

Danny was so used to this lifestyle that he would forget about his ghost powers. It's not like he really needed them.

That came to head when he returned to Gotham on a whim, wanting to surprise Bruce for his birthday by taking the other man out to dinner somewhere fancy he happened to stumble across the scene of Scarecrow holding the Waynes- his Waynes- as hostages at an award ceremony in the new mental hospital they had funded.

Danny hadn't thought.

He saw the Fear Gas vents open and pulled one of his gadgets. He threw it as hard as he could at Scarecrow, watching with satisfaction as it bounced off the manic's head- knocking him out and spinning in place as it activated.

It was a miniature vacuum- meant to gather pollution in the air to hopefully clean up their planet- sucking in all the green smoke before it could harm.

He three out of the other five at the goons that had tried to gas the spectators before, pressing his anti-gravity plates- reversing them to slam the goons into a heap and officially knocking them out.

Danny took down the Rouge in under a minute.

"Bruce! Kids! Are you alright?" He cried rushing the stage to the stunned family. He helped them out of their bonds, gentelly tracing the bruise on Bruce's face with a soft whine. "They hurt you."

"I'm alright, darling," Bruce muttered, leaning into his palm. "I'm better with you here. What was that?"

"Oh just a-"

"Look out!" Dick suddenly screams as a flash of ice comes from nowhere. Danny tucks Bruce onto his chest and rolls away from the ray's pathway. They land with his friend on his back and Danny leaning over him in a protective hunch.

Quickly, he stops his foot against the ice, pressing the heel back and watching bursts of electricity from his built-in tazer race up the ice to the beam of Dr. Freeze.

The man doesn't have time to react before spamming and hitting the ground. Danny scoffs. "Using a ray with a cryogenic laser beam so last season. Invent something new, you one act poney."

Bruce stares up at him with those soft eyes again, and Danny smiles now that he is sure the Danger is gone.

"Is there nothing that mind of yours can't do?" Bruce asks and Danny laughs helping him to his feet as police swarm the place.

"Find me a date, maybe." Danny jokes, "I haven't had one since you took in Dick.""

"Neither has Father!" Damian shouts from behind them. Danny bemussingly watches the young boy march up to gesture at the mortified-looking man.

Despite his father's obvious embarrassment, Damian does not seem bothered to shout for everyone to hear. "He may swing both ways but hasn't acquired a suitable spouse. What says you, Danny? You could assist in correcting this error."

"Sure, I'll take him out." Danny laughs, patting the boy on his shoulder, knowing he hates to have his hair touched. Damian all but melts into his hand like his father seemingly smug. "I know a great club to meet some great people in Metropolis!"

Damian's smug look fades away as Bruce's eyes fall. "I meant for you to be Father's sp-"

"Danny, would you mind explaining those tazer shoes?" Bruce cuts in, throwing a arm over the inventor's shoulder. "They were dazzling!"

"Oh, Bruce, I'm always happy to explain my creations!"

Damian pouts as the two walk away, acting like a married couple to the scattered spectators. If only his Father would just man up and tell Danny that he's practically been his second Father all these years, they need to officiate it.

Tim sighs, placing a hand like Danny did on his shoulder. "It's okay, Dami. This time, we will surely succeed in the Parent Trap plan. Maybe before Danny gets lost in the lab trying to invent a way to warp travel."

"Don't even joke, Tim," Jason says. "Danny would figure that out. He created the Zeta Beams to make it to my senior play. He'll figure out warping if we ask him to."

"Dad's the best," Steph laughs, and they all agree, determined more than ever to make Parent Trap happen.

[hyperfixation-tangentopia]

You ever realize you can do literally anything you want creatively