#stays alive wrong stays alive wrong stays alive wrong……

[badgerflavored-fruitloop]

I’ve been a fan of Danny Phantom since like I was alive. I was born 2002, show came out 2004, so I never got to enjoy it until consciousness hit me and I started joining in on fandom activities in 2013ish.

I have ALWAYS either made art, talked about fan theories, or just interacted with the fandom. From my experience alone, it’s the oldest fandom I’ve been a part of, considering it’ll turn 21 this year in April, which speaking of, we’ll promptly have a takeover like we do every year for the shows (d)anniversary

This wouldn’t be possible without people still posting to the fandom space. We wouldn’t have memes in this fandom or a fandom PERIOD if we just. Stopped posting the year after it came out. The reason why newer fandoms die out is because when kids got trapped indoors in 2020, they latched onto whatever was popular and thought “okay, gotta keep with the times. I shouldn’t like this thing anymore because there’s no content for it”. I’m not saying it’s wrong, as it’s just a result of what happened during the pandemic. But we NEED to normalize that you can stay in a fandom long after it’s dead or inactive. You can stay in a fandom space even if it’s not popular anymore. You can stay with fans even if your friends have moved onto something new. It’s OKAY to still like something a year, five years, or even a whole two decades after it’s been released

I see a lot of kids nowadays saying how they wished they were online when Gravity Falls was big or Voltron was popular and how they would’ve loved to be part of the fandom space, despite all their flaws, but it wouldn’t have been possible without people still posting as they waited for the next season, or people posting about their fan theories, or even just posting about shipping. I wanna say to that younger audience:

Someday, YOU will be part of that original fandom. Mouthwashing, Dandy’s World, etc. someday, YOU will hear from 9 and 12 year olds online that they wish they were part of that fandom space but now they have this show and that show and “the fandom doesn’t feel like those older nostalgic shows :(“ it is your job, as part of the youth, to keep your fandom alive. Post videos. Make art. Make fanfic. Do it months or even years after the show lost all popularity. Do it even if the creator is a POS (look at how the fans of Danny Phantom and Harry Potter are doing without acknowledging their media’s creator). Do it even if the show got canceled or ended. Just create and keep fandom spaces alive. YOU are responsible. Make it even if it’s bad.

Ask yourself this: How can you keep food on the table if you don’t go to the store and get it?

"Imagine still posting fanart a whole year after the game came out" brother what are you talking about

[astrugglingacademic]

Post-canon jayvik waking up in the physical state of being they were in upon death. S2 Jayce, scruffy beard and thinner from malnutrition. But Viktor doesn't completely register his own attire: his typical lab-wear, singed and scorched and torn all over. He's never seen it with his own eyes, after all.

Jayce staring meanwhile, lost in the horrible memory of the Council Room Explosion. Running his hands over Viktor to try and assure himself that this is different, he's alive, and this is their new chance.

[doll3scent]

★ Pornstar 3 ★

John Price x Cam girl! reader

warnings- 18+-mdni, smut, age gap, cam girl reader, explicit language, video call sex.

wc. 5k

a/n i’m already halfway done with pt 4…i have a lot of free time…

1, 2, 3, 4,

master list 𓂃۶ৎ

It had been a week, and Price couldn’t shake the knot of paranoia in his chest. Every time he saw your brother, he expected the conversation to turn, expected him to throw a punch or call him out for his disgusting actions. Price had barely slept, imagining the fallout: the disgust in your brother’s eyes, Ghost’s sharp judgment if he found out his captain was sneaking onto your streams.

But nothing had happened. Ghost remained oblivious and hadn’t acted any differently toward him. That only made it worse—because Price was certain you hadn’t forgotten. No, you had recognized him. You’d seen him.

And yet, you hadn’t said a word. The silence was eating him alive. Were you disgusted? Angry? Planning to expose him? The uncertainty was unbearable. He tried to keep his mind busy by burying himself in his work. But he was constantly plagued by the fear that he’d get a knock on his door, and it would be Ghost, ready to beat him within an inch of his life.

Price couldn’t stop thinking about you. It was maddening. Every quiet moment, every pause in the day, his thoughts drifted back to you—back to that call. The way you moved, the way your voice hitched when you spoke to him, and that soft gasp when you realized who he was.

He’d spent the entire week replaying it in his mind. How you’d looked, how you’d blushed when he praised you, and the way you scrambled to end the call when recognition dawned on your face. The memory made his chest tighten and his blood heat. He knew it was wrong—knew the lines he’d crossed—but that didn’t stop him. It only made the desire worse.

Nights were the hardest. Lying in his bed, staring at the ceiling, he could almost hear your voice again, soft and sweet, calling him “Daddy” in that timid little tone. He’d clench his fists, trying to shake the thought, but it never worked. He hated himself for it—wanted to convince himself that it was just the heat of the moment—but he knew better. You were under his skin now, and he couldn’t shake you loose.

He tried distracting himself with work. Paperwork, training schedules, anything to keep his hands busy. But every time he’d pass Ghost, that familiar pang of paranoia would hit him. What if he knows? What if you told him? It was a vicious cycle—work, worry, and want, all twisting together until he was a mess of frustration.

And then there were the quiet moments when his mind wandered without permission. He found himself wondering what you were doing now. Were you thinking about him too? Were you avoiding your streams, afraid he might appear again? Or worse—were you streaming, letting someone else watch you, hear you, make you blush like that? The thought made his jaw clench.

One night, he sat alone in his office, a glass of whiskey in hand, the dim light casting long shadows on the walls. He pulled out his phone, his finger hovering over the app he’d used to find you. It would be so easy to look you up again, to click and see if you were live. But he stopped himself, setting the phone down with a growl. He couldn’t. Not again. But God, he wanted to.

For days, you stayed curled up in your pink, soft blankets, replaying the moment over and over in your mind. You should've been disgusted, horrified even, that your brother's captain—his boss-had been watching you like that. And yet, every time you thought about it, your cheeks burned for an entirely different reason.

You couldn't shake the way his deep, commanding voice had sent shivers down your spine. The way he praised you, so filthy and raw, had you plunging your fingers into your wet cunt again and again.

And the way he bossed you around, his tone laced with authority, had made your body ache in ways you didn't want to admit. You knew it was wrong-so, so wrong-but the thought of him, of how he wanted you, refused to leave your mind. It was dangerous, forbidden, and yet you couldn't stop yourself from wondering... what if it happened again?

You clutched the edge of your blanket, staring at the blank screen in front of you, your thoughts spiraling. He didn't know it was you-how could he? You'd always worn your mask, kept your identity hidden. To him, you were just another faceless streamer. Just someone he stumbled upon, nothing more. That thought gave you a strange sense of reassurance.

He couldn't possibly connect the dots. He didn't know you were his lieutenant's little sister. That made it... safe, didn't it? At least, that's what you kept telling yourself. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, your heart racing as your mind whispered dangerous thoughts.

Would it really be so wrong if it happened again? If you let him watch, let him command you? You reasoned it wasn't personal for him —it was just the thrill of the moment. But for you... the memory of his voice alone made your stomach twist in ways you couldn't ignore.

You bit your lip, a mixture of guilt and anticipation flooding your senses. One more time wouldn't hurt. He didn't know. He couldn't know. You conjured up an email, hoping he'd respond.

Hi! Price,

I just wanted to say how sorry I am for how our last call ended. Something personal came up, and I had to leave so suddenly... I really hope I didn't upset you.

As a way to make it up to you, l'd love to offer another video call, completely free, if you'd like. Just let me know what works best for you, and I'll make sure I'm all yours this time.

Thank you for being so understanding. I hope to hear from you soon!

Yours,

Angel

You stared at the screen, your finger hovering over the send button. The thought of him finding out it was you-your brother's captain, of all people-made your stomach flip with anxiety. What if he did recognize you? What if he went straight to your brother and told him what his little sister was doing?

The mere thought sent a chill down your spine. But... then again, what if he didn't find out? What it you were careful, kept everything just right, and he never connected the dots? Your heart raced with the risk, the thrill of the secrecy. If you could just keep your identity hidden a little longer, maybe you could let this dangerous game play out. You swallowed hard, trying to steady your nerves. The desire to continue, to feel that rush again, gnawed at you. Your hands trembled as you clicked the send button.

John sat back in his chair, rubbing his hand over his face. The past week had been a blur of tension, his thoughts plagued by that night. He couldn't stop thinking about the look on your face when the webcam shifted, the shock in your eyes as you recognized him.

He had barely slept since, half-expecting you to show up at his door or, worse, tell your brother what you'd seen. He opened his inbox absentmindedly, eyes scanning the subject line of a new email. It caught his attention-your name glowing back at him-and a pang of curiosity tugged at his chest. He clicked open the message and started reading, his brow furrowing as he processed your words.

"I'm so sorry how our last call ended..."

A wave of relief washed over him as he read further. You were apologizing for the way things had ended, offering to make it up to him. His fingers lingered over the screen as he reread the part about a free rescheduled call, and his heart raced. Were you serious? Or was this some sort of trap? Would your brother be on the other end of that call?

John leaned back, tension settling back into his shoulders. He could feel the heat of the situation creeping up on him again. The desire to see you, to hear you, to feel that connection again was almost too strong to resist.

John leaned back in his chair, trying to suppress the rush of emotions that flooded his chest as he remembered the way you had responded to him. The soft, breathy gasps, the way your body had moved in perfect sync with his words—it was like you had become his in that moment. He could still feel the tension in the air, how you had melted at his voice, obediently following his instructions without hesitation.

Your responses had been soft, shy, and yet there was something powerful in the way you surrendered to him, something that had stirred something deep inside him.

He hadn't expected you to listen so easily, to let go of your inhibitions like that. And the way your body had moved-slow, deliberate, responding to him like he was the only thing that mattered.

He bit his lip, remembering how he had commanded, how you had obeyed. His heart thumped in his chest as he realized just how much control he had over you, how much you had let him in. It made him want to take it further, push the limits, see just how far you'd go.

His thoughts drifted to the email now sitting in his inbox, a silent invitation from you. He couldn't stop the grin from tugging at his lips. He knew it was risky, but the temptation was too strong. He had to see you again, hear you again, and feel that same power dynamic build between you.

Dear Angel,

First off, no need to apologize-I completely understand that things can come up. That being said, Ive been thinking about our last call... and I have to admit, I haven't been able to shake the memory of it.

I'd definitely be interested in rescheduling, and I'll make sure we have a bit more time to really enjoy our time. How does tomorrow evening sound to you? I'm flexible, so just let me know what works for you.

Looking forward to it.

Best,

Price

You giggle softly, your cheeks flushing as you read his reply. The thought that he's been thinking about you too sends a thrill through you. You glance at his words about his flexibility and the teasing thought crosses your mind. You want to reply something cheeky, something bold like how you're flexible too, and how he can bend you however he wants. You could say it... something bold, something that would make him want you more.

But you bite your lip, hesitant. Instead, you type a more subtle response, keeping your playful nature intact, but holding back the risqué thoughts.

Price,

That sounds perfect. I'll make myself available, just let me know what time specifically works for you. Can't wait to talk again soon.

Yours,

Angel

You lie in bed, the soft sheets wrapped around you as your mind drifts, you can't help but imagine how you'll look on the next call-how you'll make sure every inch of you is perfect for him. You run your fingers through your hair, mentally picturing yourself in the right lighting, the right angle.

You want to be flawless, to catch his attention in a way that makes him crave you more. The thought of impressing him, of hearing his approval, fills you with anticipation.

You slip out of bed, the warmth of the blankets leaving you with a soft shiver. You know exactly what you need, and the idea of finding the perfect lingerie set for him sends a thrill through your body. You quickly get dressed, pulling on something comfortable, and head out to the nearest Victoria's Secret, your mind racing with anticipation.

As you walk through the store, your fingers graze the delicate fabrics, envisioning how it will look on you. You want it to be just right, so perfect for him.

A stunning pink lace lingerie set catches your eye. The corset is beautiful, hugging the waist in all the right places, cinching you in perfectly, making your curves pop. The lace details are delicate, almost fragile, and the tiny bows scattered along it only add to the allure.

Attached to the corset is a skirt made of the same soft pink lace, flowing gently around your hips, teasing just enough.

But it's the garters and thigh-high stockings that really seal the deal. The set is perfect-sexy, feminine, and exactly what you need to make an unforgettable impression. You bite your lip, already imagining how it'll look when you wear it, and you can't help but feel a little thrill run through you at the thought of what's to come.

The next day, you wake up with a flutter of nerves in your stomach, the excitement building as the time for your call draws near. You spend the entire morning getting ready, carefully setting the mood for what's about to unfold.

You start with a long, hot shower, letting the water relax your muscles as you shave every inch of your skin. The scent of your favorite body wash fills the air, and once you're done, you lotion every part of your body, making your skin soft and silky to the touch. You follow with a layer of oil, making sure you glow. You even powder lightly, giving yourself a flawless finish, as if you're preparing for a show, not just a call.

Even though he can't smell you through the screen, you spritz your best perfume- something light, fresh, and sweet-just for the touch of confidence it gives you. It's your little secret, and it makes you feel ready.

You curl your hair perfectly, each wave soft and bouncy, framing your face just the way you like it. When you step back and look at yourself in the mirror, you feel... different. You feel empowered, beautiful, ready. The lingerie set you picked out is waiting for you, laid neatly on your bed.

As the time ticks closer, you take one last glance around your room, making sure everything is just as you want it. Even your bed is perfectly made, the soft sheets and pillows arranged just so, setting the stage for the night ahead. Your heart races with anticipation, knowing every detail is about to fall into place.

You move toward your setup, carefully adjusting your webcam, making sure the angle captures just the right view. Then, you flick on your setup lights, but only direct them toward the bed. The soft glow they cast highlights the space perfectly, making the room feel inviting and intimate. With a deep breath, you switch off your bedroom lights, letting the cool darkness surround you. The only illumination now comes from the candles you've scattered around the room. Their dancing flames flicker softly, casting shadows that add an alluring, romantic vibe to the room. The air feels charged, the atmosphere thick with anticipation.

Everything is set. All that's left is the call. Your nerves mingle with excitement, knowing this is the moment you've been waiting for.

With a deep breath, you step into the lingerie, feeling the soft lace hug your body in all the right ways. The corset cinches your waist, accentuating your curves, while the delicate lace feels like a second skin. You pull on the matching panties, the fabric smooth and soft against your skin.

Carefully, you adjust the tiny skirt, letting it fall perfectly over your hips. It's light, teasing, and just enough to make the outfit feel complete. You attach the stockings to the garters, feeling the smooth fabric stretch over your legs, the garters snug against your thighs, holding them in place.

The set fits you perfectly, every detail just as it should be. You look at yourself in the mirror, feeling a mix of excitement and a little nervousness, knowing that everything is ready now. The candles flicker in the dim room, casting soft light over the delicate lace. You take a final breath, steeling yourself for the call that's about to begin.

You reach for your little white lace mask, your fingers brushing over the delicate fabric. It's the finishing touch. You tie it carefully behind your head, adjusting it so it sits perfectly, framing your eyes and cheeks.

You sit on the edge of the bed, your legs crossed delicately, hands resting in your lap as you try to calm your racing heart. The soft glow from the setup lights bathes you in a flattering hue, while the flickering candlelight creates an intimate ambiance around the room.

You glance at the screen, the little "connecting" symbol spinning as you wait for him to join. Every second feels like an eternity, your nerves buzzing with anticipation.

You adjust the tiny skirt once more, smoothing it down over your thighs, and take a slow, steadying breath. The moment the screen flickers to life, your heart skips a beat. His face appears, and you're immediately struck by the way his sharp features soften slightly as he takes you in. You can see his jaw tighten, his eyes scanning the screen, taking in every detail of you.

You bite your lip, your voice soft as you finally speak.

"Hi..."

The moment his face appears on the screen, he's completely silent. His dark eyes roam over you slowly, taking in every painstaking detail-the delicate pink lingerie hugging your body, the way your perfectly curled hair frames your face, the soft glow of your skin in the candlelight.

His gaze lingers, almost reverent, as though he's trying to memorize every inch of you. The corner of his mouth tugs upward into a faint smirk, but his silence speaks louder than any words could. It's in the way his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows, the way his eyes darken with something raw and unrestrained.

For a moment, the tension hangs thick between you, his voice caught somewhere in his throat. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, rough, and thick with desire. "Christ... you're perfect."

You smile softly, your cheeks warming under his intense gaze. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you let your eyes flicker down shyly for a moment before meeting his again. "Sorry about how I ended our last call...something came up" you say softly, forcing a polite smile. Your voice is steady, but inside, your heart is racing. You can still remember the moment you realized who he was, the rush of shock that made you end the call so abruptly. But you've convinced yourself that he doesn't know, that he couldn't possibly have pieced it together.

On the other side of the screen, his smirk twitches, subtle but unmistakable. His sharp eyes linger on you a little too long, and there's something in his expression —a flicker of amusement, maybe even satisfaction-that makes your stomach twist. He leans back slightly, his tone casual but laced with a knowing edge.

"Something came up, huh?" he repeats, almost like he's testing you. But he doesn't push, letting the moment hang between you.

You nod quickly, desperate to keep the air light, unaware that he already knows exactly why you ended the call-and that he's watching you closely, waiting for you to slip. "Don't worry, sweetheart," he says, leaning in just a little closer, his voice smooth, almost reassuring, "I understand. Things come up. We're good, yeah?"

You clear your throat, trying to shake off the awkwardness that lingers in the air. "So, how've you been?" you ask, your voice a little softer than usual, almost uncertain. You can't help the way your nerves spike, knowing exactly who he is-your brother's boss, a military captain in his 40s. And yet, here he is, sitting across from you on a video call, just another man on the other side of the screen. But it's not just any call-it's this call. This man, so authoritative in his world, is sitting here, watching you.

Price can't help but smile as you talk to him, he knows you're lying. He doesn't call you out on it, but he's enjoying the fact that you don't know that he knows. He can tell just by the sound of your voice alone that you're nervous, but you're trying to act polite.

"I've been good, darlin". Been missing you though", he responds with a soft chuckle. He tries not to sound too desperate or obvious, he wants to play along and see how long it'll take you to crack. You can't help but smile, the warmth spreading across your face as the sound of his voice lingers in your mind. You let out a little giggle, almost shy, but it escapes before you can stop it. "Really?" you ask.

Price can't help but smirk at your school girl giggle, the sound of which seems to go straight to his core. "Yes, really" he responds playfully. "I've been thinking about you a lot, doll" he adds, his voice low. You shift on your bed, feeling a rush of heat flood your cheeks. The way he's looking at you, the way his words hang in the air, makes your heart race and your stomach flutter. You can't help but feel giddy, your body betraying your attempt to stay composed.

“...Thinking about me how?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, and you can't quite bring yourself to meet his gaze. There's a pause on Price's end, a moment that seems to stretch on into eternity as he stares at you through the screen. "Oh, you want specific details, huh darling?" he asks lowly, his eyes roaming over you. He can barely keep his voice steady, his body is heating up just looking at you.

You nod softly, your fingers nervously playing with the fabric of your skirt, twisting and turning as you try to steady your breath. The quiet tension between you both feels like it's building with every second. You can't help but feel a little shy under his gaze, yet at the same time, the thrill of it all keeps you grounded, your curiosity pushing you to want to know more.

You glance up briefly, meeting his eyes for just a moment, the weight of the question hanging in the air. “..l want to know" you murmur, your voice soft but eager. Price's gaze is intense as he stares deeply into your eyes through the screen, taking in your every move.

Your shyness is only making Price want you even more, and the tension between you is growing. When you tell him you want to know his lips curve into a smirk, his eyes flickering over your body. He leans forward, the whiskey glass dangling loosely from his fingers, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Been thinking about that tight little cunt of yours, mostly. Fantasizing about bending you over every fucking surface I see"

Price's blunt words have a powerful effect on you, they make your mind go blank for an instance before a wave of heat washes over you, his voice alone is enough to drive you insane. He's watching you intensely through the screen, taking in your reaction to his filthily words.

"You like the sound of that, baby?" he asks with a smirk, his eyes roaming over you. Price's own words make his own mind start to wander, images of you writhing under him, bent over his desk flooding his mind. "I've been thinking about your soft little moans" he says in a low voice, his eyes roaming over you on the screen. "I've been thinking about how badly I want my hands on you"

Price notices the way your thighs clench in response to his words, and it ignites something in him. "Oh, darlin...are you getting excited?" he asks with a grin, his tone a little teasing. He sets the whiskey glass down, his eyes never leaving yours as he reaches down to adjust his pants, making sure his growing erection is comfortable. "I can tell by the way you're squeezing those thighs together. You're fucking dripping for me, aren't vou. andel?"

Price can't help but admire you through the screen, his eyes darkened with intensity and desire. His hand reaches down to subtly adjust the growing bulge in his pants, trying to ignore the ache in his groin. Your legs are squeezing together, as if trying to find some sort of relief for the ache that's building between your legs.

Your face is flushed, your breathing is becoming more erratic, and you're struggling to keep your eyes on him without looking away out of shyness. Price's voice drops even lower, smooth and commanding, as his gaze locks onto yours.

"Call me daddy," he says, each word deliberate, like a challenge and a request all at once. He leans forward slightly, his tone thick with desire, as he adds, "Can you do that for me, sweetheart?" You blush, the warmth creeping up your neck as you nod, your voice barely a whisper.

'Yes" you reply softly, the word slipping out almost shyly. Price's gaze sharpens, his lips curling into a small smirk. "I want to hear you say it," he commands gently, his tone firm but not unkind. "Say it for me, sweetheart." The room feels heavier with his words, the air thick with tension as he waits, his eyes never leaving you, eager for your response.

You whisper it, barely above a breath, the words almost lost in the quiet room “....Yes, daddy.." you murmur, your face flushed with warmth as you feel his gaze linger on you, intense and expectant. The way the words feel leaving your lips sends a wave of nervous excitement through you, making your heart race all over again.

Price's whole body almost shudders as he hears you call him that, and his eyes nearly roll back in his head. It's almost too much, hearing you refer to him like that.It's a power dynamic that he never knew he craved, until he met you. He takes a moment to collect himself, taking a deep breath and trying to keep his own desire under control. "Good girl" he praises, watching you closely to see how you react to his words.

The soft whimper escapes your lips before you can stop it, a sound so quiet, yet it doesn't go unnoticed.

Price's smirk deepens as he watches you, the shift in your demeanor not lost on him. He can see how his words are affecting you, how they make you tremble, and it only fuels the desire that's already burning inside him.

He leans in slightly, voice dropping to a lower, more possessive tone. "That's it, sweetheart," he murmurs, the words like a caress. "Let me hear more of that." His eyes remain locked on yours, searching for every reaction, every tiny movement you make.

He smirks as he sees your reaction, clearly savoring the effect his words have on you. "Such a good girl, making those sweet little noises for Daddy." He leans back, purposely giving you a glimpse of his muscular frame through his partially unbuttoned shirt.

His voice drops to a commanding growl as his eyes rake hungrily over your image on the screen. "Strip for me, angel. Nice and slow. Let Daddy see that gorgeous body he's been jerking off to every fucking night."

“Yes, daddy" you slip off your panties, tossing them to the end of bed. "Leave the stockings on," he orders, his tone smooth and firm. You slide your fingers over the delicate lace of your lingerie, the fabric clinging to your body just enough to tease, before you begin to pull it away slowly, deliberately. The tension in the air grows thick as you reveal more of you skin, each inch of you body exposed with a careful, almost tantalizing slowness.

Your hands trail down your sides, feeling the smoothness of your skin as you slides the fabric down, the lace brushing against you hips before it slips completely off. You don't rush, letting each moment stretch out, letting the anticipation build. You let the lingerie drop to the floor with a soft flutter, you body now fully exposed, save for the stockings you've kept on, the lace clinging to your legs, a final piece of the puzzle that leaves just enough to the imagination. The room is heavy with your movements, the way your eyes flick up to meet his, revealing just how much you're willing to give in this moment.

He watches with bated breath as you slowly reveal your body, his heart pounding in his chest like a fucking war drum. Every inch of exposed skin makes his mouth water, his dick hardening further in his pants. "Fuck, look at you...like a goddamn wet dream." He reaches out, his finger hovering over the screen, as if he could touch you through it. "I want to see those stockings, angel. I want to see you stand up and let me see how they cling to those fucking perfect legs of yours."

You step off the bed, moving the webcam back as you stand. His eyes lock onto your legs, the black lace stockings clinging to your shapely thighs like a second skin. He swallows hard, his mind racing with images of running his hands up those silky legs. "Turn around"

You turn obediently facing your bed.

He drinks in the view of your back, the way the stockings disappear into the curve of your backside, leaving the rest of you bare. He can't help but notice the slight sway of your hips as you turn. "Bend over," he growls. You can hear him fumbling with something before the sound of a zipper being unzipped, you try to stand and turn to see him.

"Stay," he commands, his voice low and authoritative.

He wraps his fingers around his length, slowly stroking himself as he watches you bent over, the lace stockings hugging your thighs. You let out a frustrated whine "I wanna see you.."

"Not yet," he murmurs, his eyes glued to the screen as he continues to slowly stroke himself, the tip of his thumb rubbing over the sensitive head each time he reaches the top. "Please daddy?"

His hand pauses, his thumb hovering over the tip as he hears those words. He can feel his body tensing, ready to snap. "You calling me daddy isn't going to make me show you," he says gruffly. "Spread them wider," he orders, his voice low and demanding. He watches intently as you comply, the lace stockings stretching taut over your thighs as you widen your stance.

"Put your hand between your legs and rub your fucking cunt," he growls, his voice rough and commanding. He starts to stroke himself faster, watching with rapt attention as he waits for you to follow his orders.

"Slowly." You lift you upper half off the bed enough to slide your hand down to your dripping wet pussy. You let you a whine as you start to rub yourself painfully slow.

He watches intently, his cock throbbing in his hand as he sees your fingers disappear between your legs, moving languidly over your sex. The sight of your slow, teasing touches makes his teeth grind with barely restrained desire.* "Fuck, that's it..."

His eyes narrow as he sees you try to push your fingers inside. "Did I say you could fuck yourself with your fingers?" he snaps, his grip tightening around his cock.

"No, I told you to fucking rub, not shove your fingers in like a goddamn whore."

"Im sorry daddy.."

"You'd better be," he growls, his face contorting with anger and unsatisfied lust. "Now spread your legs wider and rub slower," he demands, his voice dripping with authority and unspent desire. "I want to see your fingers barely touching your little pink folds."

"No please-"

"Yes, because if you don't start fucking listening and doing exactly as I say, I'll hang up this call and leave you fucking spread open and desperate," he interrupts harshly. "So you'd better start rubbing that fucking pussy like I told you before I lose my patience."

"No! i'll listen I promise!"

He watches closely, his cock throbbing as he sees your fingers quiver against your mound, barely grazing the swollen flesh. Each feather-light stroke over your clit makes his breath hitch. "That's it... fuck," he growls approvingly, starting to stroke himself faster.

"You're doing so good being a good girl and listening," he praises softly, his tone deceivingly gentle as he continues to watch your slow, torturous rubs. "But you know what else I want?"

"What daddy?"

"I want to see you spread your lips open with your fingers," he orders, his voice low and thick with desire.

"Use your index and middle finger, spread them open wide so I can see that fucking pink hole." You moan into the bed as you comply.

His eyes widen as he sees your fingers part your lips, revealing the glistening pink interior of your pussy. He can see the head of your clit peeking out from between your folds, and the way your inner lips are slightly puffy and swollen. "Fuck... look at that,"

He continues stroking himself, faster now, his breathing heavier as he takes in the vulgar sight of your exposed sex. His cock throbs in his hand, leaking precum. "Keep holding yourself open," he commands,

"use your other hand and rub your fucking clit. Gentle.'

"Please daddy" your other hand goes down to rub your clit. His cock twitches as he watches you hesitantly start to rub your clit, your fingers moving in cautious circles. "Yeah, just like that," he encourages hoarsely, stroking himself in tandem with your movements. "Nice and slow, get yourself fucking wet."

He watches intently as your fingers circle faster, your breathing growing more labored with each passing second. The sight of your fingers glistening with arousal makes his cock ache with need. "Look at that fucking pussy, getting all wet for me," he murmurs approvingly.

"Please let me-"

He squeezes his throbbing cock harder, feeling a bead of precum trickle down the shaft as he imagines sliding into your slick heat. "Fuck, I wish I was there, burying myself deep in this tight little pussy"

"I need you-*

The conversation takes a subtle shift as Price leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his intense gaze locked on you through the screen. His voice, low and deliberate, cuts through the quiet hum of the call.

"You know, sweetheart," he starts, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips, "this would be so much better if I were there in person." You stand up from the bed, turning to face the webcam.

The weight of his words makes your heart skip, and you pause, your hands stilling on the bedspread. He studies your reaction, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he already knows the effect he's having on you. "What do you say, doll?" he continues, his tone smooth and confident, laced with something deeper.

“I could come over... see you for real." He lets the suggestion hang in the air, watching as your eyes widen slightly, your cheeks flushing at the thought. "No cameras, no screens. Just you and me."

[fear-is-truth]

PLAYER 124 / NAM-GYU as your boyfriend

warnings — kinda toxic. mention of drug use. a/n — who should i write for next…

남규

nam-gyu is the kind of partner who constantly needs to feel in control. he has a fragile ego, so he’d want to prove he’s the one in charge in the relationship, even if it means belittling you in arguments. he’s not the type to openly apologise; instead, he’d try to “make it up” by buying you gifts or doing something overly performative to smooth things over.

wouldn’t outright say “i love you” (saranghae; 사랑해) unless it’s in the middle of an argument or you’re threatening to leave. it wouldn’t be the “romantic” type of “i love you”; it’d be desperate, like, “fine, i love you, okay? is that what you want to hear?” then he’d get mad at himself for even saying it lol.

he’d have a complicated way of showing affection—instead of saying something sweet, he’d tell you, “that hoodie looks ugly as hell, but you somehow make it work.” or, “you’re lucky you’ve got me looking out for you.” it’s almost backhanded, like he’s scared of being too soft.

when it comes to physical touch, he’d only be comfortable initiating it when he’s in control. he’d sling an arm over your shoulder in public to make sure everyone knows you’re his, but in private, he’d sit stiffly until you coaxed him to relax. if you tried to cuddle him or play with his hair, he’d grumble, “stop being clingy,” but wouldn’t pull away—and if you did stop, he’d be like, “what, now you’re ignoring me?”

he’d NEVER let you see him cry. he’d bottle up everything until it spills over in a way that’s either pure rage or self-destructive. but maybe, just maybe, he’d have a mini breakdown and choke out something like, “i’m so fucking tired,” and let you hold him for a minute before he shuts it all down again and pretends it didn’t happen.

his jealousy would be off the charts. if he even suspects someone else is catching your attention, he’d immediately become aggressive and violent toward the perceived “threat.” then he’d accuse you of flirting or not appreciating him enough, even if you’ve done nothing wrong.

he’d have this really toxic habit of trying to “test” your loyalty. like, he’d say something purposely cruel just to see how much you’d put up with, and if you didn’t take the bait, he’d either feel validated or spiral into self-loathing because he’s scared you’ll leave. he’s the kind of guy who pushes people away but gets furious when they actually go.

he’s manipulative and would use your vulnerabilities against you during fights, twisting your words to make himself seem like the victim. he thrives on power dynamics, so if you’re someone with a soft heart, he’d use that to his advantage to get his way. he’s not above emotional blackmail.

obsesses over how others perceive him, so he’d put a lot of energy into making sure you’re impressed by him. even if he’s not doing well, he’d brag about some minor victory just to hear you say you’re proud of him. if you ever criticised him—like genuinely, not jokingly—it’d eat him alive. he’d act like it didn’t bother him, but he’d bring it up days later in a passive-aggressive comment like, “guess i’m just not good enough for you, huh?”

he strikes me as the guy who’d buy you expensive gifts, to prove he’s capable of taking care of you. he’d probably get something super flashy and impractical, and then get annoyed if you fawn over it immediately. “what, you don’t like it? i spent a lot of money on that shit.”

deep down, i feel like he’s terrified of being alone. he doesn’t know how to show it in a healthy way, so it comes out as possessiveness. like, he’d constantly ask where you’re going, who you’re with, and what you’re doing—not because he genuinely doesn’t trust you, but because he doesn’t trust himself to be worth staying for. if you ever left him on read, even for a little while, he’d overthink it to the point of spiraling, doing drugs etc.

has zero tolerance when it comes to anyone disrespecting you. if someone said something rude or crossed a line, he wouldn’t hesitate to fight them to defend your honour.

definitely not the type to plan cute dates or do anything traditionally romantic. instead, he’d drag you along to things he already likes—bars, shady clubs—and expect you to have fun. but sometimes, when he’s in a good mood, he might surprise you by doing something actually thoughtful, like showing up at your door with your favourite street snack or insisting on watching a movie he secretly hates just because he knows it makes you happy.

his love language would probably be acts of service, but only in an effed-up way where it feeds his own need for validation. he’d show his love by offering to “solve” your problems, but he’d expect endless praise for it. he’d remind you constantly of how lucky you are to have him.

feels completely out of his depth when you’re sad, but he can’t stand seeing you like that. instead of asking what’s wrong (because vulnerability makes him squirm), he’d focus on practical things. if you haven’t eaten, he’d come back with takeout—probably ordering your favourite without even asking because he’s memorised it by now. he wouldn’t outright express his concern, though. instead, he’d shove the food at you with a gruff, “here. eat this before you waste away or something.”

despite his flaws, when you’re sad or feeling low, there’s a small part of him that genuinely wants to help, even if he doesn’t know how. he’d sit awkwardly next to you, fidgeting with his rings, and mutter, “you’re stronger than this, you know. don’t let whatever’s bothering you win.” …. the closest thing to a pep talk he can manage.

nam-gyu is FAR from an ideal boyfriend—he’s moody, defensive, and often toxic in the way he handles his emotions. his need for control and his inability to communicate openly make him exhausting to deal with at times, especially when his insecurities get the better of him. but underneath all that mess, he knows he’s piece of work, and a part of him feels like you’ll wake up one day and realise you deserve better. this fear makes him hold on too tightly, sometimes suffocatingly so, but it also drives him to try—clumsily, imperfectly, but genuinely for you. he doesn’t know how to love in a healthy way, but he does love, and he loves deeply.

 fear-is-truth 2025 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[samgirl98]

Heart Stopper

Written for @silverblueglitter, I hope you like it

Danny’s body had developed a bad habit: his heart and breath would stop while sleeping.

If it hadn’t been for Jazz freaking out one Saturday afternoon after finding him, presumably, dead on the couch when he had been napping, he probably never would have found out. After going to Frostbite and being told it was just a new normal for him, Danny stopped worrying about it. Besides, the ecto in his body ensured that he was kept fine and healthy while asleep or knocked unconscious. He made sure not to take naps in places where he could be found, which sucked when he was in school.

It helped that his friends and sister were there to aid in keeping him awake.

Still, half-life moved on, and Danny adapted as he did with everything else thrown at him.

For example, he was currently in Gotham, trying to find Batman for help. Although it had taken a lot of effort to leave Amity Park while it was under lockdown, he had been able to do it. Now, if only he could find Batman or one of his associates.

Danny looked at the vast city from above while invisible. He wondered where he should even start looking.

He sighed. Well, there was no point in wondering. Danny flew lower and started looking at the shadows. Eventually, he would find someone.

At least, he hoped so.

Danny flew around for a few hours before he saw a dark shadow moving. It was a woman with her face fully covered in a bat-shaped mask.

Finally, someone who could help. Danny landed on a different roof and detransformed. He would get the help Amity Park needed, no matter what.

____

In Cass’ defense, no one had ever sneaked up on her. At least, not that she could remember.

So, when she heard a voice suddenly speak behind her, she reacted without thinking and kicked in the voice’s direction. Too late, she noticed it was just a kid—a kid who folded like a wet paper towel.

“Umph,” he said before going down.

“Oh, no,” Cass ran toward the boy to make sure he was okay.

Cass knew the moment she saw him. She could read the body better than a children’s book. The boy wasn’t breathing.

He was dead.

Still, she put her fingers on his neck, hoping against all hope that he was fine, that he was alive.

She exhaled sharply; there was no pulse, no breath.

Cass felt her body go ice cold. Her heart stopped and started beating double time.

She had killed someone. Not just anyone, but an innocent boy. What would Bruce think? The rest of her family? Would they kick her out?

Cass felt sick.

She took off her full-cover mask and threw up.

She killed someone. She killed someone!

With shaking hands, Cass turned on her coms.

“Black Bat to Oracle. I need help.”

“This Oracle, what’s wrong,” came the automated voice through the com.

Cass sobbed.

“Black Bat, what’s your status?”

“I did something bad,” she whispered. “I—I accidentally. It was an accident!”

Cass got to her knees beside the dead boy—the boy she had killed.

Oracle must’ve hijacked her lenses.

“Is that—is he dead?”

“Accident,” she wailed out.

“Black Bat, stay where you are,” Came Batman’s voice.

Cass felt relief and trepidation at the same time. Batman would fix this; he would make things right.

Batman would judge her; he could throw her in Arkham.

“Please,” she said, “please.”

Cass brought her knees up to her chest. She was a murderer. A murderer! She killed someone, an innocent boy who had done no wrong. She felt her stomach revolting again and turned around, not wanting to accidentally defile the boy by vomiting on top of him.

Cass heard the swish of a cape.

Batman was here. He went straight to her and held her.

“It’ll be okay. Tell me what happened.”

“I—I was patrolling when I heard a voice behind me. I didn’t think; I kicked out and hit him. Then he fell, and he was…he was gone.”

“Hmm,” Batman hummed. He took off his glove to check for a pulse. When he found none, he started doing CPR. Cass felt stupid. She could’ve been doing that. Instead, she wasted precious time freaking out. When the CPR did nothing, Batman took out a Taser and started electrocuting the body.

It was unexpected.

One second, the boy was dead; the next, he woke up yelling.

“What the actual fuck?!”

The boy got up and leaped away from them.

“Why would you electrocute me?”

“You were dead,” Cass said instead of answering the question, “I saw you. You weren’t breathing; your heart had stopped.”

“So you decided to electrocute me?”

“We wanted to bring you back,” Batman said, “we apologize.”

“You kicked me,” he accused.

“Yes, you surprised. I’m sorry for—for killing you,” she said.

“Hmm, you didn’t kill me; I was unconscious. I stop breathing, and my heart stops when I sleep, or I’m not conscious. It’s a quirk of mine.”

“What?”

“Yeah, sorry for traumatizing you,” he said while rubbing the back of his neck.

“Ask him if there’s a reason he snuck up on Black Bat,” Oracle asked.

“Is there a reason you were snuck up behind me,” Cass asked.

“Oh, yeah, there is actually! Sorry about that. I forget how quiet I am. Anyway, I need help from the Justice League, and when I saw you, I figured you could contact Batman.”

“Why do you need the Justice League?”

Cass never thought she would be so happy to see someone take a deep breath. She would listen to the boy and help however she could. That’s what he wanted: help.

“Have you ever heard of the Anti-Ecto Laws?”

So danny's heart stops when he sleeps it's annoying but thanks to the ecto in his veigns ot doen't really caus any problems

Unfortunatly it also stops when he's more forceably knocked uncosnious like say a punch to the face from a vigilantes when he was going up to let them know what was happening with amity park

Now the said vigilante is panicing thinking they just somehow punched kid to death now

[sinnabarmoth]

Welcome Home

Pairing: Zayne x Fem|Reader

Prompt: Mini fic of Reader being a soft!dom with the lads. (Not necessarily sexual, just sweet 'let me take care of you' vibes.)

Word count: 1k

Links to the other lads: (Rafayel) (Xavier) (Sylus)

You heard the front door open and smiled. “Welcome home, how was work my darling?” you called to Zayne from the kitchen.

“I’m…alive.” he sighed.

“Oh dear,” you put the soup on low heat to keep it warm and went out to see him. Zayne was slumped against the front door toeing off his shoes. There were deep lines etched into his forehead, bags under his eyes, and his hair was askew from running his hands through it. “What happened? Something go wrong at work?”

“No. Nothing wrong but the amount of work being put on my plate.” he let you help him out of his overcoat. “I probably would have stayed later to get some more things done but I knew if I did that you’d come over and drag me out by the nape of my neck.”

“Damn right I would have. I haven’t spent the last couple years instilling a sense of work/life balance in you for you to backslide now.” you pulled him in for a hug. “You work so hard, you need to remember to take breaks when you need them. You’re not some machine.”

“I know,” he sighed, pressing his forehead to yours. “Which is why I came home. I know you’d force me to relax no matter what.”

“You know me so well. Now go on, get out of your work clothes and come join me for dinner. I made a very nutritious vegetable soup--”

“And you made sure to--”

“With no carrots. I know.” you rolled your eyes. “And I also bought taro ice cream for dessert.”

His eyes lit up at the mention of ice cream. “Is it possible we can have dessert first?”

“You know I’d do anything for you, Zaynie. But I spent an hour making this soup, you’re getting a bowl full of that first.” you gave his butt a little pat as you ushered him toward the bedroom.

You ladled soup into the waiting bowls on the table and sat down as Zayne reemerged looking much more comfortable. You let him complain about his day and vent his frustrations with the changes they were doing around the hospital that he didn’t think were actually necessary. Your feet bumped against his under the table, reminding him that he was home and didn’t need to worry about work any more tonight.

Slowly he started to relax and the life came back into his eyes as he ate the soup. There was your husband. You leaned across the table and took his free hand, stroking it lightly with your thumb. He looked up at you through the fringe of his hair.

“Something wrong?”

“No. I was just thinking about how all day all you do is take care of everyone else. People put you in charge of their health, the health of their friends and family, their very lives really. It’s a lot of pressure. It makes me worry sometimes that you forget to take care of yourself, let someone dote on you for a change.” you squeezed his hand. “I want to be that person for you.”

“You are that person every day.” a gentle smile grew on his face. “Every time I come home and see your smiling face I forget all my other worries. I know that you will always be there to take my coat and lift my spirits and tell me to just lay back and take it easy for the night. You have no idea how much I appreciate that, how much I appreciate you.”

“Aw Zayne!” you got up and kissed his cheek. “You really are the sweetest, my darling.”

“I’m just telling the truth. I can hardly remember a time before I had you in my life. I must have been a machine to have coped with it all.”

“You were never a machine. You just didn’t have someone to remind you to look after yourself. Sometimes people need someone to come in and remind them that they are a person too. After that, they learn to do it for themselves. Do you think the Zayne from a couple years ago would have left work on time when he knew he could get more stuff done if he stayed?”

He shook his head. “No. I would have been there till midnight, probably would have slept there too.”

“Exactly. Now look at you, you come home to me without me having to so much as send a text. I helped pull you out but you’ve been doing marvelously at keeping yourself afloat. I don’t want you to ever forget that.”

“My flower…” he gazed up at you with absolute love and adoration.

“And it looks like you finished your soup so if you still want it we can have ice cream now.” you said brightly.

“Yes, please.”

“So polite.” you ruffled his hair and grabbed the ice cream out of the freezer. You were going to scoop it out but decided to just grab two spoons and stuck them in the carton. “Since you worked so hard today and you’re being extra sweet I think we can have a straight from the carton kinda night. Have as much as you want.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” you sat yourself on the edge of the table and scooped up some ice cream with your spoon. “Want me to feed you as well?”

His face started turning red. “No--I mean, not unless you really want to.”

You chuckled and held the spoon out for him. He licked the ice cream off and once he had you bent closer and pecked his lips, chasing the lingering sweetness on them. You noticed when you started to pull away he leaned in closer, chasing your lips.

You smiled, cupping his face. “Is my doctor perhaps craving something a little sweeter than ice cream?”

He gulped, staring up at you through half lidded eyes. “I mean I wouldn’t mind…” he trailed off.

“Come now, my darling. You know better than to not finish your sentence.” you said in a quiet, coaxing voice. “What is it you want?”

“I’d like to go back to the bedroom, my flower.” he said, his spine straightening.

“Much better.” you pulled him out of his chair and quickly tossed the ice cream back in the freezer. “We can finish that later. Right now I think what my hard working husband needs is a thorough massage.”

[andysbong]

“ call her number , but she wont answer “

Dae-Ho x GN!Reader (established relationship)

Angst — TW - OD 

authors note : this is my first actual post on tumblr so im hoping it does good

Dae-Ho had just got out of the games, those dreaded games. He was so happy go finally get out, alive too. Finally getting to go home after those days almost weeks; making him feel paranoid and scared. Finally getting back home and getting his phone he checked his notifications;  200+ missed calls and messages combined. All from you. Nobody else, you. All wanting to know where he went; the voicemails begging him to come home, the misspelled texts evident of your anxiousness and lack of sleep. Running off of those damn pills you always took when you got anxious, making you stay up all night. You were always up for hours on hours. when you took them. Oh he hated it, always begging you to come back to bed. 

Dae-Ho searches your shared apartment for you, “Y/N? Baby?..” he asked around, looking in every nook and cranny. The closet, the bedroom, the kitchen, the bathroom, anywhere and everywhere. Dae-Ho finally called you, going immediately to voicemail. “Fuck..” he muttered under his breath; you always picked up the phone, under any circumstance. Even if you were dying you would've picked up the phone.

You didn’t live directly with Dae-Ho, just most of the time. You had your own apartment about 2 hours away, which probably meant you were there..right?.. right?.. Letting out a sigh he looked around, getting some clothes and walking to the bathroom, stripping down. Turning the shower on, mostly hot but somewhat cold; the perfect temperature, what he thought was at least. 

Getting into the shower he closed the sliding glass door softly behind himself, standing there for a moment. Letting the water go down every curve of his body. Usually you were there, in the shower with him, washing each other off. Oh it felt so, so, so wrong not to have you there. Sure he had lovers before you, but they weren’t like you. You were his soulmate in his words.  He had always loved you, being childhood friends and all. 

Running soapy hands through his hair he lathered his dark hair with the shampoo, your shampoo. You two always shared everything. Clothes, food, calonge, perfume, whatever. It was everything you shared that built your bond as strong as it was. Rinsing the shampoo out of his hair and washing all the grime off of his body he turned the shower off. stepping out and grabbing a towel, drying his body off and drying his hair. Pulling his clothes on and walking out of the bathroom, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror in the bedroom, stopping and staring. You had always took photos in that mirror, putting a polaroid of the two of you in the corner. 

Dae-Ho stepped closer to the mirror, taking the polaroid in between his thumb and pointer finger, a soft, nostalgic smile on his face. He missed you, too damn bad. putting the polaroid in the pocket of his jeans he walked over to the living room, grabbing his phone and calling you again, “Answer..” he murmured, his voice strained with worry before going to voicemail — again. Sensing something was wrong he grabbed his jacket and put his phone in his pocket, grabbing his keys and going out, locking the apartment door behind himself. 

While getting in his car Dae-Ho got a notification, his eyes widened, hoping it was you. No. it was a scammer, not you. Sighing, tears coming to his eyes he turned the keys, starting the car and driving off. Driving those two hours to your apartment, stopping at a gas station to get you two a Monster. You always loved Monsters, Dae-Ho didn’t know what it was but you loved energy drinks. Paying and getting back in his car he desperately checked his phone again, nothing. Deciding he should call you again he did, sighing with sadness when it went to voicemail. 

“Hey babe.. im coming to your apartment.. seeing you weren’t at ours.. i hope everythings okay.. love you. see you soon.”

Driving off again he finally got to your house not long after. Getting out of the car he got the two Monsters, going up to your apartment and unlocking the door with the spare key. Walking inside, taking his shoes off by the door, quickly padding into the kitchen and setting the Monsters on the countertop. Looking around for you before finally walking over to your bedroom door, seeing it was closed he raised a brow. Knocking he the next words left his lips nervously, “Babe?.. you in there?..”

Opening the door he started talking, looking at the ground while he did so, “Sweetheart.. listen im sorry for leaving.. i just.. we needed the money and this guy-“ He cut himself off, seeing a dim light from the bathroom, “Y/N?” He asked, walking over, looking in before his jaw dropped. A body. Your body. Laying there lifeless with the medicine cabinet open, various pill bottles empty on the counter. You killed yourself. Worse. You overdosed. 

Tears prickling his eyes he scrambled, getting onto the floor and trying to shake you awake. Screaming your name, “Y/N! Y/N! BABY PLEASE!”  Tears streaming from his eyes he held your lifeless body close. His worst fear come to life. You, the long of his life, his partner, his fiance, was dead; and he felt like the cause.

[tinytinyblogs]

Punishment time darling

They give you everything you could ever want, but crossing them is a mistake you’ll never want to make.

Hyung line, Maknae line

Stray Kids Masterlist 1.0 & 2.0

Your insights and reactions make these posts come alive. Love reblogs, comments, and all the good vibes welcome ✨

Han

Ghosting you, giving you the silent treatment—that’s Han’s specialty. He doesn’t need to yell, argue, or raise his voice; his silence is far more effective. It’s deliberate, calculated, and utterly consuming. Han knows exactly how to make you squirm, how to make your mind spiral into doubt and guilt. After all, he’s spent so much time being the perfect partner, the sweetest, most thoughtful person in your life. A sudden shift in his behavior is enough to make your entire world feel like it’s crumbling. When Han is upset, it’s not chaos that you face—it’s an eerie calm. He doesn’t reply to your texts, doesn’t meet your eyes, and acts as if you don’t even exist. At first, you might think he’s just distracted, maybe busy with something else. But the longer his silence stretches, the more uneasy you become. Han thrives on that unease. He loves the moment when panic starts to creep in, when you begin questioning every little thing. What did you do wrong? Did you hurt him? “Han, please, talk to me,” you plead one day, your voice trembling with desperation. He glances at you briefly, a flicker of something dark in his eyes, before turning away without a word. That single look says everything: you’ve disappointed him, and now you’re going to pay for it.

For Han, this isn’t just punishment—it’s a game. He’s a master of control, and his silence is his favorite weapon. He knows how to create a void that only he can fill, making you desperate for his attention, his approval, his love. The more he pulls away, the more you scramble to win him back, playing right into his hands. Days pass, and his sweet, doting persona feels like a distant memory. The warmth that once made you feel safe is replaced by a chilling detachment. You try everything to get him to respond—a heartfelt apology, small gestures of affection—but nothing works. That’s exactly what he wants. Han relishes your helplessness, watching you crumble under the weight of his absence. Finally, when you’re on the verge of breaking, he speaks. His voice is soft, almost kind, but there’s no mistaking the menace beneath his words. “You think I’m being cruel? No, love, this is what happens when you forget your place. I give you everything, and you repay me by disobeying? How ungrateful.” Then he leans in, his smile chillingly sweet. “Don’t make me do this again. You wouldn’t like what I’m capable of.” Just like that, you’re reminded that Han’s control over you is absolute, leaving you no choice but to obey.

Felix

Felix greets you with a smile as bright as sunshine, his voice gentle and soothing. “It’s okay, love. Mistakes happen. Just make sure you don’t do it again,” he says, his tone full of warmth and reassurance. It feels like everything is fine—like his words are an embrace meant to ease your worry. But slowly, almost imperceptibly, Felix begins to change things around you. For your own good, or at least, that’s what he firmly believes. The next day, you notice your phone is nowhere to be found. You search every usual spot, but it’s simply gone. When you ask him about it, Felix smiles sweetly, his expression as warm as ever. “You don’t need that, sweetie. I’m here, after all,” he says casually, as though it’s the most logical explanation in the world. His words are laced with affection, but there’s something about the way he looks at you that leaves you uneasy. Then comes the moment you try to step outside. The front door is locked, and the key is nowhere to be found—not in its usual spot or anywhere nearby. You turn to Felix, confused, only for him to greet you with that same sunny smile. “Where are you planning to go, love? No, no, just stay. There’s nothing important out there,” he says cheerfully, his tone almost playful. Yet the underlying message is clear: you’re not leaving.

As the days go on, it becomes harder to ignore the changes. His cheerful demeanor makes the situation even more unsettling. It’s not that he’s openly angry or upset. Quite the opposite—Felix is all smiles, his soft voice and kind words wrapping around you like a blanket. But that’s what makes it so unnerving. He doesn’t need to yell or punish you in obvious ways. Instead, he controls your world bit by bit, taking away your freedom one small step at a time, all while keeping that ever-present smile. Felix, the smiling punisher, ensures that every move he makes feels peaceful, even as he tightens his control. He’s convinced that it’s all for your own good, leaving you powerless to argue. You don’t know if he’s upset or not because he never shows it. He keeps smiling, as if everything is perfect, even when you feel the walls closing in around you. And in the end, that’s what Felix loves most—the way you eventually stop resisting. Under his ever-cheerful facade, he knows he’s succeeded when you no longer have the ability to disobey him. For Felix, it’s not about breaking you with force—it’s about molding you into someone who wouldn’t even think of defiance.

Seungmin

Seungmin is far more dangerous when he’s mad. He doesn’t lash out physically, nor does he lose his composure entirely. Instead, he wields his words like weapons, knowing exactly how to cut you where it hurts the most. For Seungmin, this isn’t just anger—it’s calculated, deliberate punishment. And in his mind, you deserve every bit of it for daring to upset him. His tone is calm, but the edge in his voice is sharper than any blade. “I trusted you,” he begins, his eyes narrowing as they pierce right through you. “But maybe I overestimated you.” Those words hit hard, striking the very insecurities you try so desperately to hide. It’s not just what he says—it’s the way he says it. That look of disappointment in his eyes feels like a weight pressing down on your chest, making it hard to breathe. Seungmin doesn’t need to shout or raise his voice. He doesn’t waste his energy on dramatic outbursts. Instead, he lets his cruel words do the damage, each one carefully chosen to break you down. “You think you’re clever enough to deceive me?” he sneers, his tone dripping with disdain. The way he stares at you, unflinching and cold, makes you feel small and insignificant. As he continues, the tears well up in your eyes. You try to hold them back, but Seungmin notices immediately.

He always notices. And instead of softening, he doubles down, exploiting every vulnerability he can find. It’s like he’s taking inventory of everything you’re insecure about, everything you’ve ever been afraid to admit, and using it against you with precision. He doesn’t just stop at your tears. No, he takes them as proof that his words are hitting their mark. “It’s good you understand,” he says finally, his tone a mixture of finality and dismissal. “I don’t want to feel this way, but you leave me no choice.” His cold rationality feels even more crushing than outright anger would. Seungmin sees the way your shoulders slump, the way your gaze drops to the floor, but he doesn’t stop. For him, this isn’t about comfort or reconciliation. It’s about control. He believes you need to know your place, and in his mind, the only way to achieve that is to make you feel small enough that you’ll never cross him again. “You’re lucky I’m even giving you a chance to fix this,” he mutters, his voice soft but biting. “Next time, don’t make me regret trusting you.” Even as he walks away, leaving you alone, the weight of his words lingers. Seungmin doesn’t need to break you with force—he’s already broken you with silence, calculated remarks, and the deep scars left behind by his cruel, deliberate punishments.

Jeongin

Jeongin, with his innocent demeanor and soft smile, seems harmless at first glance. But beneath that sweet exterior lies someone far more dangerous than you could ever imagine. Jeongin knows how to wield his knowledge like a weapon, turning your deepest fears and darkest secrets against you without hesitation. His calmness when you make a mistake isn’t a sign of forgiveness—it’s a sign that he already has the upper hand. “Ah, do you need me to remind you who owns you?” he asks, his voice light and almost playful, but there’s no mistaking the edge beneath his words. Jeongin doesn’t need to shout or rage. He simply lets his actions speak for themselves, and those actions cut deeper than any punishment could. Jeongin’s obsession with control is rooted in knowing everything about you. It’s not just a pastime for him—it’s his greatest pleasure. Every secret you’ve tried to bury, every moment you’ve wanted to forget—Jeongin uncovers them all, keeping them locked away until the moment he decides to use them. He’s like a collector, carefully curating the parts of you you’d rather leave hidden. One morning, you wake up to find a small note placed neatly on your nightstand.

Your heart sinks as you notice the picture attached to it—a snapshot of a memory you’ve tried so hard to erase. The blood drains from your face as you pick it up, your hands trembling. You don’t need to ask who left it there. The message is clear, and the signature scent of Jeongin’s cologne lingers in the air. Moments later, he steps into the room, his usual soft smile playing on his lips. He leans in close, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers, “Darling, if it weren’t for me, the whole world might already know what you’ve been so desperate to keep hidden. I’m the one keeping your secrets safe. Don’t you think it’s easier to just listen to me? To do as I say? That way, we can live peacefully together?” The casual tone of his words contrasts sharply with the weight of his threat. It’s not a plea for obedience; it’s a reminder of the power he holds over you. Jeongin thrives on the fear in your eyes, the hesitation in your voice as you nod. For him, the game isn’t just about control—it’s about watching you realize there’s no escape. He enjoys the slow realization that you are entirely in his grasp. And through it all, he keeps smiling, his innocence a mask for the dark intentions lurking beneath. To the outside world, he’s perfect. To you, he’s a master of quiet destruction.

[sporadicallyanenthusiast]

First of all, let me just thank you for taking the time to explain all of these points! There were many contexts here I didn't know about and it helps make more sense of the story! So thank you so much ❤️

And the thing about Ancient Greek and color is really fascinating! Kudos to the people that first began translating the ancient texts, because oh boy! Hahaha @mari--lace also mentioned in the replies how it is not a consensus on Athena's eye color either. I've only ever heard about the "wine colored sea" point, but never had the thought to dig deeper and learn more. I am definitely going to change that hahaha There are so many interesting things to learn, no wonder so many scientists have been studying the topic for centuries.

I'll have to admit, our poor Menelaus really did suffer a lot, dear Gods. Since my first contact with him was through the Odyssey and some fandom posts, sometimes I forget Agamemnon was his brother. And yes, as much as he loved Odysseus, learning about your brother's death like that can't be easy to digest. And the timeline of how long he stayed shipwrecked was a little fuzzy to me, so it makes sense that after 7 years, his memory would be hazy! I see what you mean when you refer to it as a vision/dream now. I didn't know Aegisthus had them exiled either, so that definitely adds even another layer to the hell Menelaus' life was at that time! We talk so much about Odysseus' hardships, but oh my, poor Mene didn't catch a break either, I'm appalled 😰 I have yet to wrap my mind around the fact the the poems were supposed to be performed out loud as well. A lot of the narrative choices make way more sense when you remember that, it's not just a regular book. I suppose that is why some things sound jarring when you read it for the first time.

And yes! Oh my, I never thought the texts would be so expressive and so warm, you know? We tend to have this idea that people from different times were too cold and distant, but they were still human at the end of the day. Of course they'd be affectionate to the ones they loved! And to be honest, it reminds me of when I read Sherlock Holmes for the first time. It really caught me by surprise how Sherlock and Watson were described and how they talked about each other in such a loving way. I don't know when we stopped writing platonic relationships so beautifully like that, but it truly is a loss to modern literature, in my humble opinion.

And I had no idea about Odysseus' own prophecy! I did know he tried to avoid going to war, but I just assumed it was because he had a newborn son and wanted to be there for Penelope. In that scenario, it really is fair to point out Menelaus trying to warn them wouldn't change much. On that note, Athena herself also told Telemachus Odysseus was alive and he didn't believe her, the Wisdom Goddess hahaha I hadn't thought about that before, but it really does illustrate how hopeless all of them were. If Telemachus didn't believe Athena, you're right, he wouldn't really care about Menelaus' letter either.

I knew about the law of Xenia, so I assumed that was the only reason stopping them from sending the suitors away. I admit I was a tad bit confused why Telemachus didn't force the suitors to leave once he outright had Athena's and Zeus' blessing, so your explanation really helped me make sense of everything!

It's such a nice and sweet detail to have Telemachus and Odysseus going through their journeys at the same time (Telemachus' first journey and Odysseus' last journey, even!), only to meet again at home and taking back control of their palace together. Maybe I teared up a bit, can't deny nor confirm hahahahaha

You are still way more knowledgeable on the topic, and your academic background gives a perspective other people might not have. So I think it's fair to call you as such 🥰❤️

Oh, I see! Sorry, I'm a bit too anxious at times and end up worrying too much that I gave the wrong impression or was rude by accident hahaha

This has been a lovely discussion indeed! Once again, thank you so much for being so kind to explain everything, I'll definitely be reading the books with new perspectives and insights!

Telemachus is so much stronger than me for real. Cause if I had traveled for days, by sea AND land, arrived at the palace of my father's friend and my mother's cousin to humbly ask if they know anything about my missing father and instead of just fucking telling me already, this mf started a monologue about how gay he is for my dad and about the time he captured a God that granted him wishes three, I'd already be telling him to Hurry The Fuck Up. IT'S BEEN TEN YEARS, I DON'T HAVE ALL DAY.

But if the same motherfucker then turned around and told me that he had known FOR YEARS NOW that my dad is trapped on an island AND THE MOTHERFUCKER DIDN'T TELL ANYONE!!!! NOT A SINGLE LETTER!!! I would have already strangled Menelaus with that fucking blond hair of his in front of his wife and children, unhelpful son of a bitch.

[love-byers]

I see byler. But it would make me feel so weird because Mike has liked a girl for four seasons and he has treated Will horribly, getting away from him because of a girl. I don't know, it would be pailful to rewatch the show and see all this ald later see byler being canon

i encourage you to rewatch the show because it is just flat out not true that mike "treated will horribly". if mike liking a girl for 4 seasons holds impact then so does the way mike has CANONICALLY treated will during those same seasons.

in s1 mike is determined to find will, believing he was alive even when dustin and lucas didn't. he defended will multiple times ("wait this is will's fault?" "i'm the only one acting normal here! I'm the only one that cares about will!", pushing troy down). he stayed awake in the hospital waiting room so he could go to will immediately when he woke up. he was the first one in will's hospital room and laid his head on will's chest. he breaks into a cheesy grin just watching will play dnd.

in s2 mike is extremely attentive and protective of will. he notices when will wanders outside the arcade and puts an arm around him to guide him back inside, he notices when will is being quieter than usual, he doesn't let anyone else touch will on halloween, he sees himself as will's protector, he comforts will by suggesting they'll lose their minds together, he jumps to will's defense over the dart stuff, he stands in front of will to protect him from dart, he is worked up over will missing school, he stares sadly at will's empty desk, he calls the byers house from a payphone because he's eaten up with worry, he goes to the byers house after school and bangs on the door calling for will, he holds will's hand and assures him all the terrible things he's going through are happening for a reason, he sleeps on will's floor to stay close to him, he sleeps in a chair next to wills hospital bed, he gets flustered when will remembers him despite having amnesia, he notices when something is wrong with will despite him not moving or changing his expression at all, he tearfully recounts the day he met will and describes it as the best thing he's ever done in his whole life.

in s3, yes mike is not a great friend to will all of the time, but it wasn't specifically targeted at will. he and el were being bad friends to the whole group over the summer. and despite that, mike is still attentive to will, noticing when something was wrong in the theater despite the fact that he's supposed to be paying attention to the movie like everyone else. he double checks that will is okay. he immediately back tracks and tries to keep playing dnd when will gets upset, even forcing lucas to backtrack as well. he follows after will when he storms off. he doesn't want will to bike home in the rain. he continues to apologize even though will is ignoring him. he compliments will's campaign and assured him he doesn't think its bad. he's extremely regretful after snapping and saying something hurtful to will. he calls after will, begging him not to leave. he bikes to wills house in a rainstorm and bangs on his door, apologizing and begging will to come outside and talk to him. he doesn't just accept that will doesn't want to talk to him and instead searches through the forest in the dark rain for him. he jumps to defend will and encourages the rest of the group to believe him about the mindflayer. he sticks close to will during the sauna test. he worries about will leaving him behind when he moves to california. he is delighted when will assures him thats its impossible. he tearfully hugs will goodbye. im not gonna go into the byler coding in hop's letter because some would say it's speculative, but yeah. mike was fucking devastated at losing will.

between s3 and 4 mike is eaten up by the idea of will not reaching out and making new friends. he feels like he lost will. he openly complains about joyce's job holding up the line because he wants to talk to will. he mopes in his basement and plays nintendo because he misses will. to him everything feels weird because will isn't there. hawkins no longer feels like home because will isn't there. he loves his other friends but finds that there's something different about what he feels towards will.

then in s4 mike does start out being a dick towards will. or at least it looks that way. it seems like mike doesn't want anything to do with will, but later on he flat out admits that that wasn't the case at all. he was still being highly attentive to will, analyzing his facial expressions and demeanor and hoping will to talk to him. will didn't ruin mikes day by being too involved in his date with his girlfriend, he ruined it by not being involved. he stays close to will after el hits angela, literally shoulder to shoulder with him. he seeks will out to apologize to him and let him know he didn't deserve the way he'd been treated, and goes on to tell him how much he'd missed him and how he was afraid he'd lost him. he wants them to be best friends again. he wants he and will to be a team through whatever happens next. he is overjoyed when he thinks will made a painting for him. he assures will that they will kill vecna together and puts a comforting hand on his shoulder (despite the fact that he was too s scared to hug will 5 days earlier). he stays at will's side when the world is ending right before their eyes.

i truly truly do not understand why people say will deserves better than mike because the entire fucking point of their dynamic is that he handles will with much more care than he does others. im sorry but it really just sounds like an excuse to say byler bad without sounding problematic because the truth is that you just don't want mike to be queer. mike is very tender and caring with will and trusts him above anyone else. will is the same way towards mike. and he is devastatingly in love with mike. mike who has done everything stated above for him. why would they not be a good match? why does will not deserve the person he feels understands him better than anyone else, the person who makes him feel loved and special in a word turned against him? bffr

and about mike getting away from will because of a girl, this is a very common trope in childhood friends to lovers stories. that is what deepens the relationship between the two friends. the jealousy, the pining, the emotionally charged arguments. one of the friends usually doesn't realize what they have until they are faced with losing it. hello, s3 epilogue! the love triangle dynamic has already been used multiple times in stranger things. nancy genuinely did have romantic feelings for steve even when she got with jonathan. joyce had genuine romantic feelings for bob despite the fact that she was clearly in love with hopper. the writers have clearly shown that love is something entirely separate from attraction, and that it's easy to get lost along the path to it and get those feelings mixed up. why would it be any different for mike? especially if he's queer and in love with a boy? that makes everything 100x more confusing. especially if he's bisexual because the world back then conditioned people to think there was only homosexuals and 'normal' people. it would be so difficult for mike to figure everything out if his romantic feelings towards el are very much real, because he doesn't think he can have both. he feels caught between two slides, as one might say.

so yeah rewatch the show with an open mind and i promise you it will not make you feel weird, it will actually make a whole lot more sense. and if it does make you feel weird then i think you need to address an underlying attitude towards gay people. im not flat out calling you homophobic, it's very easy to be biased and not even know it when the world is as heteronormative as it is. just try to have an open mind

[hikarielizabethbloom]

Do you think Galadriels problem is only with sauron or also with the other men in her life, in TROP ofc? because all i see in s2 is the writters tryin to humble her and make her feel shame for the desicions she took, plus none of the men acepted or apologized with her for them bing WRONG.

I don't see it that way at all, anon. I don't think s2 humbled her down. She was facing the consequences of her actions. I love galadriel to the bits but I love her because she's flawed. She makes a lot of mistake because she is very impulsive. And yes, she was right in s1 about Sauron being alive (even though imo this is more complicated than that) but she did decide not to tell the other elves about it. That's what Gil-galad and Elrond were angry about. They thought her judgment might be clouded by her feelings. Were they wrong? Not really. Was she right anyway? Yes. But, she was still Gil-galad advisor. He listened to her. He did everything she asked him to do. And he was there when she woke up. That elf loves her deeply. It's clear.

Elrond was a little bit more sharp. But he did apologize. Tent scene, my beloved. He said forgive me. He saved her in that tent and he saved her later by using the ring. He changed his mind about the rings because of her. Because he trusted her.

Everyone is in awe of her. And you can see it in every scene. Galadriel and Celebrimbor scene is still one of the best on the show. Arondir is her biggest fan.

And yes, Galadriel's journey in these two seasons is something that we as women go through every day of our life. Stay in your place, apologize, don't be too emotional. That's true. But does that mean that we shouldn't be accountable for our actions? And that's what happened to Galadriel. She needed to understand that she was enough. That she didn't need other men's approval to be herself. To be a good leader. To be a light in that darkness.

And most of all she needed to understand that she was not alone in that fight.

At least, this is how I see it. 🤷‍♀️😂

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

Skelly kid (baby/toddler) is at the doctor because they need an injection/vaccine and Skeleton is told to hold his kid during it. Predictably it's painful for the kid and they begin crying. How does skeleton react or think? which ones get emotional? And what do they do after? (s/o can be there too! Maybe even recording for memories and keep the reactions hehe.)

Undertale Sans - He stays calm and immediately starts to make funny faces. The kid calms down not ten seconds later. Sans is good at calming kids. It's necessary anyway so no escape out of this. After that, he moves on and acts like everything that happened is normal so his child doesn't associate the doctor with a bad thing.

Undertale Papyrus - Papyrus HATES needles. They're a bit of a trigger for him, even though he's not sure why, and he's a bit panicking when the doctor just puts his child in his arms and brings out of nowhere the BIGGEST NEEDLE HE HAS EVER SEEN. He's ashamed, but he might have hidden his face behind his kid to not see the needle lmao. He cheers the child as soon as that horrible event is over and congratulates them (and himself) for their bravery. Everyone is going to have ice cream after that, and he's going to have the biggest of the three because man he deserved it too. You're a bit surprised as Papyrus usually doesn't eat that much sugary food lol.

Underswap Sans - He wanted to go with S/O but he had to go all by himself. When the kid starts to scream, Blue just winces. He... He doesn't know how to stop them from crying. Please help. He throws a stare full of distress at the doctor lmao. What? He's still new in the being a dad thing! You can't expect him to know what to do! The doctor ends up giving both the kid and the dad a lollipop to calm them both lol. Blue comes back home like a loser and doesn't even want to talk to his S/O. He's done with that day.

Underswap Papyrus - Ah, yes, give the child to the super empath skeleton, for sure nothing bad will happen. Well, good news! The kid doesn't cry at all. Bad news, that's because Honey kinda absorbed his pain like a sponge and now he's just sobbing uncontrollably lmao. The doctor clearly mocks him and asks if he wants a lollipop. Honey is so exhausted he just nods like a child. Thank Asgore, his S/O was there to drive him home. He needs comfort and he's going to be clingy all night.

Underfell Sans - He's uncomfortable. Red doesn't like doctors in general, even more when they're hurting people. As soon as the injection is done, he pulls the chair away from the doctor to put a safe distance between him and his child. It certainly doesn't help that Red is overprotective the first few months following the birth of his baby. He comforts the baby as his S/O talks with the doctor, then he leaves, holding the baby close to his chest and throwing a dark stare at the doctor until he's out of the building. You're not sure how to tell him the baby needs a second injection in a few weeks lol.

Underfell Papyrus - The doctor is kinda scared of Edge lol. Edge is way taller than him, and he's kinda looking down on him with an angry face while he does the injection. The poor doctor feels in danger and as soon as it's done, kinda runs to his desk to escape his death glare. Edge then checks the child from all angles to be sure they're not dying. Later that day, Edge explodes the poor guy's door because his baby has a fever and accuses him of poisoning his child. That's going to be a long day...

Horrortale Sans - The doctor is quite terrified. Oak hates doctors with all he has, but he doesn't want to let his child go alone. He could go at the only condition he promised his S/O and his brother that he wouldn't attack the doctor. That's the only reason this guy is still alive. Oak is quite literally growling at two inches from his face, his only pupils so thin he looks like a shark. One wrong move and it's over. His S/O keeps saying that he's inoffensive, but, uh, the doctor has a hard time believing that. When the baby starts crying and Oak becomes very threatening, S/O picks up the baby, grabs him by the hood and drags him out of the room, before slamming the door in his face. Well, it seems to work for a few seconds. Then a gigantic axe flies through the door. S/O promises the doctor they will pay for that while casually confiscating the axe lmao. Let's just say you don't bring him next time. And you don't tell him you're going to the doctor either. You drag him along as you leave, apologizing to the poor terrified doctor.

Horrortale Papyrus - He hates when his child cries and he hates needles so he doesn't feel good and might get a little emotional. He knows it's for their own good, but that doesn't mean he has to like it. He's agitated after that and won't stop checking on his baby to ensure they're alright. He might also argue with you when it's time to go again a few weeks later. He doesn't like the idea of hurting his child several times like this.

Swapfell Sans - He doesn't think much about it, but he still squints at the doctor when his child starts to scream. You can see the cogs in his head turning, wondering if that guy just hurt his child on purpose or not. That's a little scary, but he's perfectly calm and so it's hard to tell if he's threatening or not. He just gives the doctor a suspicious side eye, then acts like nothing happened. He gives some candy to his child when he gets home, but still monitors them closely for a while, just in case.

Swapfell Papyrus - He's an idiot. So, uh, when he saw the needle, he got scared and put his hand on the way to protect his child. He ended up getting vaccinated. Turns out monster's anatomy is not made for human vaccines and he had to go to the hospital because he kinda immediately had an allergic reaction to it. The child is perfectly fine though and they even brought him a lollipop from the doctor to make him feel better :D He's so going to beg you to not tell his brother though. He's kinda ashamed lol.

Fellswap Gold Sans - Oh come on, that doesn't hurt that much. It's just a pinch and it's done forever. Get over it already. When he was a child, he broke both his legs jumping from a tree and he didn't complain. His S/O is horrified, the doctor is horrified, the child is even more scared and everyone is for sure appreciating Wine's parenting skills right now. He doesn't understand why it's such a thing. He's not the one being dramatic here.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - Coffee keeps throwing distressed looks at his S/O as the doctor gets closer with the needle. He doesn't feel good and asks several times if he can give the baby to his S/O instead, but the doctor doesn't listen to him. Well... Coffee faints as soon as that gigantic needle enters his child. He has good reflexes though so he still manages to hold the child above his head as he passes out on the floor. The kid cries because they're confused, they didn't even feel the needle. Coffee feels even more guilty knowing he's the one who made his baby cry. He opens the closet in the doctor's office and disappears inside lol. He needs to hide from the world for a few minutes. You try to explain to the doctor that's normal and that he'll be back in a minute.

[beef-brisket]

Lucifer nods: I do- but only to talk, no... messing around with my mind-.

Adam: What?! Babe, you can't be serious! After what she did-?!

Just as Adam turns towards Hela getting ready to charge at her, Lucifer grabs his arm: Adam. Trust me.

Hela laughed and dropped herself down onto Lucifer's throne: Well done, Lucifer. You've trained your dog well~.

Adam: You fucking-!

Lucifer tightened his grip on Adam, he growled as he felt himself get dragged a few steps: Adam! Enough!

Hela: Hmm, not trained well enough, it seems~.

Lucifer: Hela! Stop. You're here to speak with me.

Hela: Well, I WAS here to talk to both of you, but that's off to a good start! So, if your mutt has calmed down, I have a few questions.

Lucifer: He's calm. Right, Adam?

After a few moments of silence, Lucifer looked up at Adam, who was glaring at Hela.

Hela: Don't make me put you down.

Adam: ...Fine. Ask your fucking questions.

Hela: Oh, I will! I don't need your permission. Anyway, Lucifer~. My favourite person~. I have many people looking for me- for different reasons. Why are you different from the rest?

Lucifer: ...You've shown yourself to me, surely you have the answer to that.

Hela: Hm. Fair enough. I find you interesting to answer your question.

Lucifer: I didn't ask one-.

Hela tapped the side of her head with her long nail, smiling at Lucifer: Oh, yes, you did~. Not only were you a human with an archangel soul, but now you're the king of Hell- not that that means anything to me, but even I know when someone's impressive~. Now, speaking of impressive, what to you intend to do with me~?

Lucifer: We- I want to end the war and keep Heaven out. Permanently.

Hela: Oh, how interesting~.

Lucifer: They've been hanging around. There's a rumour going around that they want to destroy Hell altogether. And I'm sure you don't want that to happen.

Hela: Hm... you're not wrong. That wouldn't be in my best interest. Too bad for you, that I have other plans.

Hela jumps up from the throne and dusts herself off.

Adam: The fuck does that mean?

Hela sighed: Ooh, I really wish you wouldn't talk to me, dog. But, if it'll stop you from talking, I'll answer your question~. Being back in Hell has opened my eyes to just how... revolting, the place is. So, I'm going to aim for higher amd better things~.

Lucifer: ...Heaven?

Hela: Smart boy! Heaven will be my new playground. It's about time those rats learned their place-.

Lucifer: Hela- you can't! You start a war between Heaven and Hell- and we have enough war! Just- please, just help us!

Hela: Oh, but I am helping you, pet! Once Heaven is mine, you'll be able to travel between the two! Aren't you lucky~.

As Hela started to walk off, Lucifer ran over to her: Please- Hela! Just-.

Hela smiled downa t Lucifer amd pinched cheek: Don't worry, sweetie~. Once I'm ruling all of the realms, I'll take you away from this glorified ape you call a husband, and give you a throne that's worthy of you~!

In shock, Lucifer let Hela walk off. What was he even meant to do? He stood no chance against her.

Adam: You'll get yourself killed.

Hela: No, mutt. You'll get yourself killed.

Suddenly, Hela was in Adam's face, and her claws started to dig into his ribs.

Hela: Remember, you have something of mine. Don't make me take it back. You won't like it~.

Adam: L-Lucifer helped me-.

Hela: I don't know why, I would have let you rot if I was him. But no, he had to do something, didn't he? Not that it matters. You had my blood in you for over a week, I'm everywhere now~.

Moving away, Hela smiled at Lucifer: If you want to remain king- and alive, I highly recommend staying out of my way.

In a blink of an eye, the life came back to the throne room, and the air became lighter. She was gone. Leaving Adam and Lucifer in silence.

Adam: ...Fuck sakes...

Lucifer: You can say that again.

I miss our God!Adam Au

Sequel 👀

In Canada Eh! Lmao

CANADA FOREVER

Yes plsss! I miss our stupid, power-hungry boy 😫😫

[zeroseuniverse]

Dance of Familiarity

Word Count: 1.4K Summary: “You... should’ve let me die,” he managed, his voice rasping with pain. “Not a chance,” She said, her hands working quickly to apply pressure to the wound, staving off the worst of it. “You’re not getting off that easy.” Pairing: Hyunjin X Fem Reader

Disclaimer: Please be aware that this is apart of the from the ashes series. This series will have aspects of violence, weapons, angst, blood, injuries, killing, and will heavily focus on oppression and segregation of mutants, Look after your mental state if any of these make you uncomfortable please.

Series Masterlist

The neon-lit city hummed with a pulse of danger, its streets lined with shadows and secrets. Beneath the buzz of illegal deals and whispered alliances, a storm was brewing—one that would threaten to unravel the delicate balance of power.

She had always prided herself on staying out of the underworld’s mess. A bounty hunter for hire, she’d worked the fringes, always calculating, always detached. Her reputation was built on precision, taking down targets with a mix of skill and efficiency. No emotions, no attachments—just the job.

But tonight was different. The contract she’d accepted felt... off, like a wrong turn down an unfamiliar alley. The target was a rogue assassin, someone who had been dismantling high-profile crime lords like clockwork, leaving bodies in his wake. No one knew his name. No one knew his face. All she knew was the trail of chaos he left behind, each kill more graceful than the last.

The job was simple—or so it seemed. Track him, kill him.

She had followed the breadcrumbs to a run down warehouse at the edge of the city, the scent of rust and rot in the air. Her eyes scanned the area, picking out every detail, every movement. She’d been hunting killers long enough to know when things didn't feel right.

The moment she stepped into the building, the air shifted—like the world had held its breath.

She’d barely noticed the shadow darting across the rafters above, a quick movement almost too fluid to track. Before she could react, a blur of motion descended, and she was face to face with the one person she never expected: the rogue assassin.

Hyunjin stood still, his backlit figure framed by the dim light filtering through the cracked windows. His eyes locked onto theirs, the faintest flicker of recognition crossing his face, though whether it was curiosity or something else, she couldn’t tell.

"Didn't expect company," Hyunjin’s voice was smooth, like velvet, yet laced with danger.

Her grip tightened on her weapon, but she didn't fire. Not yet. This wasn't just any target. There was something about Hyunjin—something different.

"You've been killing our clients,"She said, her voice steady, betraying nothing of the storm brewing beneath her calm exterior. "I’m here to put an end to that."

Hyunjin smirked, the glint of a blade flashing in his hand, his movements a slow, deliberate dance. "I’m not your enemy. Not unless you make me one."

And in that moment, she knew this wouldn't be like any other hunt.

A deadly game of cat and mouse began, each of them testing the other’s limits, their movements a blur of precision and grace. Every strike, every counter, seemed more like an intricate performance than a fight for survival.

But the moment the ground shifted beneath their feet, they both knew they were no longer alone. A third party—rival syndicate operatives—had entered the fray.

It wasn’t about the mission anymore. It was about survival.

As the chaos erupted around them, Hyunjin offered a brief glance, the unspoken challenge clear in his eyes: “We fight together, or neither of us makes it out alive.”

For the first time in years, she hesitated, caught between the urge to fight and the strange pull of an unexpected alliance.

The sound of gunfire echoed through the crumbling warehouse, and the once tense, calculated fight between her and Hyunjin morphed into something chaotic. The rival syndicate’s operatives flooded in, their weapons drawn, intent on silencing both of them.

Hyunjin didn’t flinch. His every move was fluid and precise, as if this was nothing more than a familiar dance. But her instincts were sharper than most—she had no choice but to adapt quickly, her mind racing.

In the midst of the chaos, Hyunjin's movements began to change. Where his strikes had been lethal, now they seemed... restrained. He wasn’t going for the kill shots anymore. His every motion was a carefully calculated move to incapacitate, to subdue, and not to finish the job.

It was subtle, but she caught it—a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, a momentary look that passed too quickly to decipher.

A sudden realization hit her like a punch to the gut. Hyunjin wasn’t here to eliminate her. He wasn’t even here for the syndicate’s contract. Something deeper, more personal, was driving his every action.

But before she could process the thought, one of the rival operatives made a dangerous move—aiming directly at her.

Instinct kicked in. Hyunjin lunged forward, faster than she could react, taking the bullet meant for her. The impact sent him crashing into a stack of crates, the air thick with the sound of his breath escaping in sharp gasps.

"Hyunjin!" her voice broke through the din of the battle, her focus snapping to him. He lay there, vulnerable, blood seeping from the wound.

She rushed to his side, ignoring the gunfire still ricocheting around the warehouse. He was breathing, but barely, his hand clutching the bullet wound in his side. His face was pale, his usual cold demeanor slipping for the first time since their encounter.

“You... should’ve let me die,” he managed, his voice rasping with pain.

“Not a chance,” She said, her hands working quickly to apply pressure to the wound, staving off the worst of it. “You’re not getting off that easy.”

Hyunjin’s eyes flitted between her and the approaching enemies. “They’re coming for you next. They won’t stop until you’re—"

"Then we leave," she interrupted, her eyes flickering to the shadows as she dragged Hyunjin to his feet. "We don’t have time for this."

But as they turned to run, something struck them both at the same time—a figure in the shadows, hidden just beyond the edges of their vision. Someone had been watching the entire time, someone who shouldn’t have been there.

A woman stepped into the dim light, her eyes cold and calculating. Her features were sharp, her movements smooth like she was part of the night itself. She was dressed in black, the faint shimmer of a blade at her hip—one that seemed eerily familiar.

Y/N froze, her pulse quickening. She recognized her.

"Well, well," the woman said, her voice smooth like Hyunjin's but colder, more menacing. "You thought you were the only one tracking him down?"

Y/N’s throat went dry. The woman was no stranger. She was the one who had hired her.

"You," Y/N growled, her grip tightening on Hyunjin’s arm as realization dawned. "You set me up."

The woman’s smile was dark, almost cruel. "Not exactly. I just... provided the right incentive. You see, I don’t care who kills him. I just need him gone. But I’ll admit, the two of you working together has been... entertaining."

Hyunjin struggled against Y/N’s hold, his gaze flicking back to the woman. "You knew," he whispered, a flicker of understanding passing between them. "You knew I was dismantling your empire."

The woman’s lips curled. "And you were never meant to get this far. Hyunjin. And you," she turned her gaze to Y/N, "Well, you’re just a pawn in a much bigger game."

The realization struck Y/N like a thunderclap. The woman wasn’t a contractor. She was the one pulling the strings, the real mastermind behind everything. She had orchestrated the entire scenario—the rogue assassin, the rival syndicates, even Y/N’s involvement—just to clean up a loose end.

Everything she had believed about this mission was a lie.

The world around them tilted as Hyunjin pushed himself to his feet, his eyes locked onto the woman with burning fury. "You’ve been playing us both from the start," he said, his voice low and deadly. "But you’ve underestimated one thing."

"What’s that?" The woman arched an eyebrow.

Hyunjin smiled—a dark, dangerous smile. "I never play by the rules."

Before she could stop him, Hyunjin lunged, his movements so swift and graceful that the woman didn’t have time to react. In a heartbeat, the blade he had hidden in his coat was in his hand, and with one swift motion, he sent it flying.

The woman barely had time to dodge, but not fast enough.

The blade sank into her shoulder, and she staggered back, fury flashing in her eyes.

"Game’s over," Hyunjin muttered, his voice cold with finality.

But Y/N could see it now—the uncertainty in his eyes. The fight wasn’t just about survival anymore. It was about something far deeper, something far more personal than either of them had realized. They had both been players in a game they didn’t fully understand, and now the stakes were higher than ever.

Now, there was no turning back.

[chaifootsteps]

A huge surprise to me about SC dropping HB, was that SC believed that HH would prove the haters wrong about viv writing. A lot of fans were holding on to HH as a sign of good thing to come and when it came out, a lot of fans and YouTubers had nothing to say, they were letdown but couldn’t say anything because they knew the stans would eat them alive. It was better to silently drop the show but you can tell just how unhappy both shows have left SC. I respect him for admitting the stated because his channel depended on fans of the show to stay afloat but at the same time he kept framing himself as “one of the good ones” dire, cartoonshi and so many like them that were huge fans loved HB but the fans were so toxic and abusive and Vic kept enabling this toxic behavior online and offline that it drove them away and split the fanbase, not to mention the suicides of 3 fans that no one wants to acknowledge is too much on someone’s mental health. Dire and cartoonshi were fair and correct on a lot of their criticisms. I went back to Dire and everything they said in there “were we wrong about Helluva Boss” came true. The world building made no sense, it was fanfic writing of itself and viv was making shit on the spot, what’s funnier is that she even confessed she didn’t plan the show out and was making stuff up on the fly. Dire knew S2 was gonna be terrible and surprise! They were absolutely right. It took a lot of fans and SC longer than most that no one was having fun anymore and after 5 years HH was a huge disappointment. There was no reason to stick around anymore so everyone left

And make no mistake, HH's writing looked like Cormac McCarthy next to HB's, and it still got all that well-deserved criticism and some "Aww, isn't it nice that this happened at all?" fluff reviews from critics. And Viv's demonstrated that her stories don't get better the longer they go on.

[yall-batman-fanfic]

The Wrath of Wayne | Bruce Wayne/Batman x OC!Magician [Part 2/3]

Synopsis: Trapped. Both Vivian and Bruce are trapped in the scheme made by Thomas Wayne. This was a threat they have never dealt with before and unlike before this has higher stakes with Valerie’s life in the hands of Thomas Wayne.

Valerie finally stopped crying but she won’t smile. The girl kept pouting even when she was surrounded by her toys, even when Alfred would keep her company with warm milk in her sippy, even when she had Ace and Echo with her… even when her mother was in her line of sight. 

How could she smile? This man, this Batman was keeping her from her mother. This man who calls himself her grandfather would try to feed her with mushed food and try to play with her like everything was okay. 

The first time he tried to play with her, Valerie cried and clung to Alfred, calling him, “Gampa! Gampa!” 

“Ms. Valerie,” Alfred tried to hush her cries, in fear that seeing her cling to him and calling him that would anger Thomas Wayne more. 

“It’s alright, Alfred,” Thomas sighed, giving up for the day and handing him Valerie’s meal. “I’m glad she had you for a grandfather here. She’s in good hands.”

“She misses her mother, Master,” said Alfred.

A pause. Thomas thought for a moment before saying: “I’ll make arrangements for her to see Vivian. But she cannot leave the dome nor can Val be there with her.”

A compromise, this was better than Vivian constantly begging him to let her see her daughter. She might not be his in this world but he still cared. If not as a man who loved her then as an in-law. 

He personally brought Valerie’s crib to the library so she can be with her mother. First the crib, then her toys, mountains of them, some Vivian knew were not even from Valerie’s room but from the store. Thomas Wayne have taken all of those for Valerie. Day and night, Valerie would look at her mother who was trapped in that glass dome, sitting there, trying to talk to her and get her to smile but to no avail. Valerie, as young as she was, knew that something was wrong.

Something bad was happening.

Where was her Dada? Why hasn’t he come to save them? 

Dada would always be there to save them.

When Valerie finally grew tired, Thomas Wayne laid her down on the crib and tucked her in, letting her sleep. But he did not leave. He stayed there, sitting on the chair beside the crib, in front of the dome, and watched as his granddaughter slept. 

“She reminds me of Bruce when he was her age,” said Thomas. “When he was a boy, I made a vow to protect him from anything that would do him harm… and I failed.”

“Where is Bruce?” Vivian asked in a whisper, tired from her many attempts of escape. She can’t get out, she can’t even call for her father, Dream, to save her. “What did you do to him?”

Thomas was silent for a time, contemplating, he tends to do that, then he spoke: “when Bruce was a boy, he would always ask me to read to him a story. It was The Animals and the Pit by Alexander Nikolaevich Afanasyev. Do you know that?” 

His Vivian did.

“Yes, I do,” Vivian answered.

It seems she does too.

Sitting up, Vivian looked at her bloody and bandaged hands and continued: “It’s a Russian Folktale that follows a group of animals traveling together who encounter a large pit. All the animals end up stranded in the pit, and in an attempt to survive longer, they devise trivial competitions in which the loser is eaten by the rest. Eventually, the fox is the last animal alive, tricking the pig into eating itself, and the story ends with an unanswered question: does the fox ever escape the pit?”

“Word for word,” Thomas smiled. “Did Bruce tell you that?”

“He did, but I read it when I was in high school… I found a connection to it right after my mother’s death. If this whole narrative you’re doing is some sort of poetic thing to relate to the story then you’re missing the damn point.”

“And that is?”

“Bruce has gone out of that pit a long time ago. The both of us did. We pulled each other out of that pit. There were those we hurt, who we lost in that pit but we got out.”

“Then why continue being Batman?” Thomas got up and marched up to her, stepping into the circle to tower over her. “Why not stop him?” He hit the glass. “You left me when I won’t stop.”

So, in that universe. In his world, Thomas Wayne had Vivian Pryor. It brought an unsettling chill down her spine to learn that. 

“Maybe because she wanted to get out of that pit, and she can’t if she clings to you,” Vivian answered.

“You died the moment you stepped out of those doors. Car accident.”

She and her mother died in a car accident.

“Your Vivian—the Vivian from your world—were you both…”

“No,” he answered immediately. “I won’t that happen. And it was a mistake. I am glad that in this world you and Bruce found each other. I saw how much my son loves you, Vivian Pryor, if only the Vivian from my world had someone to give her that. Then she wouldn’t have fallen into that tragedy.”

Valerie whimpered in her sleep. Before Alfred could get to her, Thomas Wayne picked up his granddaughter from the crib and lulled her back to sleep. Valerie, still frowning, slept again.

“What’s the goal, Thomas?” Vivian asked. 

“I want Bruce to stop being Batman. I want this to stop, for him to be happy with his family. For us to be a family.”

“You can’t erase whatever happened in that pit,” Vivian argued. “You can’t act as if none of it happened, that none of this happened. Bruce will never submit to you,” Vivian placed her bloody palm on the glass. “He will never let this happen.”

“I know. He is a Wayne. And Waynes rise… if he won’t submit willingly, then I shall break him to submission. Once he comes to, I will take my son and we will go on a journey to bring back the happiness of this home, and by the time we return—the three of us—I hope you, Valerie, Alfred, and your children have come to accept this reality.”

“The three of you?” Vivian asked, but then her gaze went to the family portrait of Thomas, Martha, and young Bruce. “Oh, god… god no! No! What you’re doing is sacrilege! You can’t! She doesn’t deserve this!”

“Martha didn’t deserve to die in that alleyway. Neither did Bruce… and she did not deserve what happened to her in my world… hush now, Vivian, or you’ll wake the baby.”

~ * ~

Bruce woke from the eternal nightmares that his father had placed him in. He was tired but he was pissed. He will get Bane, Falcone, and Thomas Wayne, but for now he needs rest. He needed to recover before going after them, he can’t make a mistake. Not with Vivian and Valerie’s lives on the line. 

He battled his way through Arkham, beating every enemy he faced and leaving them bloody and broken on the floors of Arkham, but for one. Harvey Dent. Two-Face. Two-Face will be his messenger. 

“Tell them,” he said to Dent. “Tell him that I will come for him. But I’m tired, so I’m going home. But once I’ve recovered, I will come, and he will pay for what he did to the mother and daughter he is holding hostage. Do you understand?”

When Dent didn’t answer, Two Face tried to say something but one punch from Batman and the man was dizzy.

“I was talking to Dent. Do you understand?” 

Dent spat out blood and said, “I understand.”

In the Batcave, Bruce slumped in his chair, tired, so tired. All he wanted was to go to Vivian but he couldn't. She’s held captive in a glass dome that was keeping her from using her magic, and his daughter was held hostage by his own father. No, that man wasn’t his father. His father was dead, this Thomas Wayne was from another dimension.

He needed rest to get them out. But to do that, he also needed reinforcements but none of his Robins were responding to his calls. As if they were cut off from him. Maybe they were still busy with handling the chaos that Falcone started in Gotham.

INTRUDER ALERT!

Sighing, Bruce reluctantly wore his cowl and followed the signal to where the alarm was sounded. It brought him to the dining room where Falcone sat at the head of the table, and standing at his side was his father, Thomas Wayne.

“Benvenuti,” Carmine Falcone mocked him. “Who would have thought the Batman was Bruce Wayne… or maybe I should have known too.”

Bruce kept silent and glared at Falcone, and at Thomas Wayne.

“It seems, it’s not just us who find this whole Batman gig a headache too, even the old man-” he laughed “--he crawled out of the grave just to put a stop to this. What do you say, Brucie? Had enough?”

He remains silent.

“Take a seat, son,” Falcone gestured to the many seats at the table. The seats that would always be filled by the members of his family.

“My girls,” Batman demanded. 

Falcone smirked. “Of course. Follow us.”

He did what Falcone said and followed, his father right at his tail as they went to the library. The first he saw was his daughter, sitting on the carpeted floor, playing with her dolls while having a frown on her face, then the person she was playing those dolls with. 

Bane.

The sight of his enemy triggered a fight or flight in Bruce but before he could engage he saw Vivian. Trapped in a glass dome inside a circle that kept her from using magic. When she saw him, Vivian got on her knees and pressed her bloody and bandaged hands on the glass, and she shook her head. 

Don’t attack.

Not when their daughter was at the mercy of a man who can easily crush her with one punch.

So he didn’t.

“Dada!” Valerie called for him, she was about to reach for her as his daughter got on her feet to get to him but Bane took the girl from the ground.

Bruce and Vivian froze at that.

Valerie whimpered in Bane’s arms and she tried her hardest to get to her father and then she started crying.

“Look at that — stop it, you’re scaring the bambina!’ Falcone said. “Come here, sweetheart,” he went to the girl and took her from Bane. “It’s alright, you wanna see Mommy?”

“Dada!” Valerie cried. “Mumma! Dada!”

“Come on, go see Mommy,” Falcone brought her to the glass so she can be close to Vivian. “Daddy can’t play with you right now because he’s in big trouble.”

“Val, it’s okay,” Vivian swallowed her sob. “Please, just give her to Alfred. She’s had enough, hand her to Alfred so she can rest. Please!”

“Look at that. A Wayne begging on her knees to a Falcone. Never thought I’d see that in my lifetime.”

“Carmine,” Thomas spoke with a threatening tone.

“Alright, alright!” Falcone took the girl from the circle and handed her to Thomas, who then called for Alfred so the butler could take her to the nursery. Away from the confrontation. With Valerie gone, they can now move easily. “Kids… I have a couple of my own, they’re my greatest treasure.”

Batman and Vivian disagree. They know the truth about the relationship between Carmine and his children. He was not winning “father of the year”.

Turning to Bane, Batman glared at him and sneered, “I’m going to break your back.”

Bane smirked.

“Did you do that to her?” He questioned Falcone.

“Oh this?” Carmine knocked on the glass. “No, that’s your old man’s doing. And that,” he pointed to Vivian’s bloody hands. “That’s all her.”

“Enjoy this while it lasts,” Batman said. “Because once I’m through with him,” he pointed at Bane. “You’re next.”

“I’d choose your opponents well, son,” Falcone shoved his hands in his pockets.

Before he could register what was happening, Bane ran up to Batman, tackling him to the ground. Bruce, quick on his feet, got up and kneed Bane at the face, giving him time to get out of the hulking man’s grasp. He then punched Bane across the face before he could recover, and again, and again, harder than the last. Then he grabbed Bane by his shirt and headbutted him hard. 

Bane fell to the ground.

He should have known better that Bane wouldn’t stay down, but Bruce’s mind was clouded. He was exhausted after those nightmares and he was furious to see his daughter and wife prisoners in their own home. He went straight to Falcone.

“Hold on!” Falcone backed up at the glass. “I said, hold it!”

“BRUCE!” Vivian hit the glass, trying to warn him. “BEHIND YOU!”

Too late. Bane grabbed Batman by his cape and threw him across the room, smashing him at the family portrait of him and his parents. Bane didn’t give him time to recover and kept thrashing him around like a ragdoll, destroying everything in the room. But Bane was smart enough to not bring the damage to where the circle and the glass were. They knew if she got out, they had hell to pay.

Turning to Thomas Wayne, Vivian hit her fists at the glass to catch his attention. “STOP THIS! HE’S YOUR SON! STOP IT! MAKE THEM STOP! PLEASE!” She begged the man.

Thomas turned to her and said: “I told you. We will break him into submission.”

She watched in horror as Bane lifted Bruce from the ground, holding him up in the air and drove his back down to his knee. The last that Bruce heard was the sound of Vivian crying out to him.

~*~

Helplessness. That was what the Robins felt as they stood atop of Wayne Tower, overlooking Gotham as Falcone’s men led this anarchistic dystopia.  They can’t do anything but stand there. They can’t save Gotham, and they can’t save Vivian and Valerie.

Bane made it clear, if they come close to Wayne Manor, he will crush Valerie with his bare hands, then Vivian.

They can’t take that risk. 

Even Damian knew best to not test Bane. Not when it was his mother and sister, and Alfred in the line. So, what? What can they do?

What they do best, they guess. They try to save Gotham. Right now, all they can do was stop Falcone’s men. To help the GCPD get back control on the city, and to do that they’ll need to get Commissioner Gordon out of the cell he was in at Black Gate and replace the current Commissioner that Falcone put up there. Arnold Wesker. 

Easy.

They already know where Scarface was.

~ * ~

“VIVIAN!” Bruce shot up awake from days of sleep. Knocked out was the right term. But as he opened his eyes, it wasn’t the library that he saw nor one of the rooms in the Manor. It was the vast night sky littered with stars. Sand under him, and the dryness of the desert air. 

“It’s alright,” Thomas Wayne placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. “You’ve been through a lot, just remember what you’ve been taught.”

“You!” Bruce threw his tied up hands at his father to hit him, but Thomasa blocked it with his arm, then punched him back to the ground.

“It’s okay. You can be scared, it just means you have to fight back that fear.”

“You,” Bruce spat out the blood from his mouth. “You did all of this… you took my daughter, your own granddaughter, hostage, and you placed Vivian, my wife, in a cage!”

It would take time for him to get used to the fact that Vivian was Bruce’s in this dimension. He just hopes that by the end of this journey the mention of her name no longer places the image of her lying beside him in his bed. That needed to end if he wanted this plan to be successful. If he wanted them to be this happy family he dreamed of. 

It needs to succeed. He has done all of this – the killing, the betrayal, the hurt he’s placed on Vivian and Valerie. 

So it better succeed.

Facing his son, Thomas said to him: “You have been defeated. Broken, body and soul, that’s behind you. It’s time to rebuild. There’s nothing to worry about, not anymore. Father’s got you.”

Bruce sneered at him and said: “Why?” 

“You will learn soon enough.”

As the sun rose, Bruce was helped by Thomas to get on the horse while his father pulled them along, dragging with them the casket behind them. As they rode down the dunes, Thomas explained to Bruce that he put back his spine so they could go through this journey, the both of them. When asked where they were, Thomas gave the answer, and when asked why, he replied: “You’re the world’s greatest detective, when the drug wears off, you’ll understand.” When asked about the coffin, Thomas said: “You’ll understand soon.”

They rode for days, and on occasion they would be attacked by ninjas in the desert. The closer and closer they are to the destination, Bruce finally recognizes a couple of things in their travels. “Those ninjas are Ras al Ghul’s guards, that means we’re getting closer to the Pit.”

Thomas laughed. “You’re getting it now. I’m still proud of you, my boy.”

Then it hit him. The coffin!

Turning to the sight of the coffin their horse dragged, Bruce exclaimed in horror, “That’s mother’s coffin.”

Thomas halted their horse and turned to him. “We’re almost there. We’ve bled, we’ve burnt,  we’ve earned our rest. And we have earned our right to go home, and once we do we will go back as a family.”

“Where is it?” Bruce asked him.

Thomas pointed to the satchel, and from there Bruce pulled out his cowl and wore it over his head. 

They pushed through.

“I remember the blood, the pearls. Knowing I will never see you again, I forfeited my life and surrendered to a vow, and where did it get me?”

Thomas laughed. “You made your choices, you saved who you could and more, and while doing so you rebuilt. You started your own family. You’re lucky now that it still stands firm even with that cowl as the foundation of your life… I am proud of you, son, but after this it’s time we rebuilt. It’s time we see this through.”

Their journey went on and more ninjas came. In the last wave before the Pit, Thomas killed every one of the ninjas but for one. He’ll be needing that for the Pit. Later that night, they stood before the Pit.

“How did Mother go in your world?” Bruce asked.

“She didn’t die easily. Not important, we’re here, and soon she as well. We will be a family again, Bruce —-”

He shouldn’t ask but he couldn’t help but wonder. “And Vivian? Do you know her there as well?”

Thomas  paused from dismounting his horse then sighed. “I did. Know this son, I am only telling you so we can start anew.  No secrets will be between us…” he was wrong to ask. “In my world, Vivian and I are familiar with each other. She was an important person to me…”

Bruce’s hold on his reigns tightened. But no. Not now, not when they were so close.

“What happened to her there?”

“She left me because I refuse to stop, and as soon as she did, she died in a car accident. Now, understand, I hold no feelings for your wife. I am telling you this now because you asked and because I want a clean slate for us all. Once we return, the three of us, we can be a family. You will have your Vivian, and I shall have Martha again.”

That wasn’t enough. Not for Bruce.

Descending to the pit, Thomas and Bruce carefully brought down the coffin and the ninja. In the Pit, Thomas took the flare from the ground, and turned to his son whose rage he’s been feeling since telling him about the Vivian from his world. 

“I needed you at a low point. To be broken. After Bane, after the nightmare, and after seeing the helplessness to not save her. We have a way out. You can have the love and happiness that you deserve. You can have what we’ve lost. We can be a family, Bruce! We can live happily without the cape!”

Bruce paused and said, “The book I would always ask you to read. The reason why I liked it so much is because I hoped the ending might change. Then, like those animals who fell in, I had no way out. I was in that dark pit with no idea of getting out… then she came, some one as broken as I, and she lit up the way and showed me the way out.. We pulled each other out of that pit. And believe it or not but I am happy. We are happy. You never really understood Vivian. You think the Vivian from your world left you because of the cape? She left you because of what you do with it. But the Vivian here. My Vivian understands, and she has accepted me as both Bruce Wayne and Batman!” 

He threw a punch at his father, and Thomas was quick to return the favor. The father and son battled it out in the Pit, both battling for their beliefs and their hope. Both fighting in hopes of getting out of that Pit and return to their family. As they fought, Batman threw his father against the coffin and from it stones poured out, revealing the last secret that kept them from a fresh start.

“No,” Thomas said. “What have you done? When?”

“While you were sleeping. Mother is buried in the desert where you can never find her.”

“Why?”

“I wasn’t sure if I can best you, but here I knew I could hurt you!”

“We broke you!” Thomas punched him across the face. “I broke you! You can never be Batman! All you can be is my son!” Punch. “To be a father!” Kick “A husband!” Punch “You can never be Batman!”

~ * ~

Wesker came to her cage, opened the panel at the back so he could change the bandages around her hands. Vivian watched as the Ventriloquist did his work. How long has it been since she was placed in this dome? How long since Bruce was taken by his father after Bane broke his back? How long since she last held her daughter.

Thomas Wayne has returned but he said nothing about Bruce.

“Wekser,” she spoke. “Please… let me see my daughter.”

“I-I-It’s n-n-n-not m-m-my d-d-decision t-tt-to m-make,” he replied.

“Please, let me see her. I can’t remember the last time I held her.”

“Ventriloquist,” Thomas Wayne appeared at the door of the library. “Leave us.”

Wesker was quick and clumsy as he left. He didn’t even bother to close the panel of her cage. But it didn’t matter if he didn’t, Thomas Wayne took Wesker’s place at the stood and finished the work in cleaning her wounds. She was in need on stitches which Thomas look into before she left, then he assigned Wesker and Alfred to look after her and make sure to change the bandages everyday.

Fractured knuckles, he  told her when he fixed her hand, but nothing he can’t take care. In a couple of weeks she'll be back to normal. 

As a reply she told him, if she had her magic she’ll be healed now.

“Valerie’s fine. She’s with Alfred. She prefers his company,” said Thomas.

“Alfred is her grandfather,” Vivian told him.

Thomas sighed. “That he is. But she will learn who her grandfather really is. Children are flexible. They’re like clay that we can easily mold to what we want them to be.”

“You’re wrong… children are not some clay or canvas that you can turn to whatever you want them to be. They’re their own persons. Valerie is young, and yes, she learns from us but she will have her own thoughts. Her own dreams. But now, she depends on us. So, please, let me be with her.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Please!” Vivian begged. “What do I need to do so I can be with her? I want to hold my daughter! I haven’t seen her since yesterday! I haven’t seen my children for weeks now, and I don’t know where they are or how they are! And my husband! You broke him and you took him from me! At least let me have my daughter before I go into insanity!”

Thomas’ hand shot out quick and grasped Vivian by her face with a grip so tight she knew it would leave a bruise. “Never joke like that. Ever.”

“I wasn’t joking. It’s the truth,” Vivian whispered.

Thomas released Vivian and pushed her back into the glass cell. He left the room only to return moments later with a crying Valerie with Alfred running after him, begging for him to be gentle with the girl. Thomas then opened the panel of the glass cage and handed Valerie to her mother.

“There,” he told Vivian and left.

Vivian brought her daughter to an embrace and hushed her cries.

“It’s okay,” Vivian cooed at Valerie. “Mumma’s here. I’m right here.”

“Ms. Vivian, if there’s anything you need,” Alfred trailed off.

“Her food, Alfred, and her milk, and maybe a glass of water,” Vivian answered.

“Right away, Ma’am.”

“And a piece of paper.”

Alfred paused before he could leave.

“Shall I also bring a pen, Ma’am.”

“No,” Vivian said, her eyes fixed on the stitch that popped. “I won’t be needing it. Not for this.”