#that's insane. that's wildly impressive.

[wowitsverycool]

when i say that i like ts!underswap more than any other fangame, i don't mean that other fangames are *bad*, moreso that ts!underswap is really, really great.

[moe-broey]

I also want to say this main screen dialogue makes me so soft............. doing things to me. Emotionally.

[angelsanctuarys]

i'm very picky with piano interpretations but i'm extra picky when it comes to la campanella by liszt

[martinskis-lydias]

If someone tells me they like Snape (as a person) and he wasn’t a bad person and was redeemable blah blah blah I will never fully trust that person

[ofc-vi-writes-too]

so all ive been able to think about is gotham for the past several days, and more specifically how gothamite culture has to be SO drastically different and jarring to literally anywhere else in the world. Like even other super cities like metropolis, or central city, or wherever else are at least KINDA normal. Like yea u have superman or wonderwoman or the flash but they dont really have to deal with the same level of bs as Gotham.

That being said here are a list of things that I think are extremely normal to Gotham, and other things that happen in thay horrible little city:

• the episode of Hot Ones with Brucie Wayne where no one thinks he’ll even be able to stand the 2nd or 3rd wing but he eats all of them with no reaction, and Sean Evans (or the in universe equivalent) just sits there like “wow no one has ever had literally no reaction before this is really crazy, and Bruce Wayne of all people?” Afterwards Bruce has second thoughts and realizes that maybe he should have played up his reaction to the spice a bit more. People Inside of Gotham are a little shocked because everytime he eats in public it is the most boring, bland, flavorless food imaginable. (he handled the spice so well because Batman is ready for all potential threats and forms of torture. Ridiculous levels of spice included)

• Gotham schools offer courses in self defense. In some school districts its actually mandatory, thats usually in old gotham or downtown gotham. In more affluent areas, self defense is still taught in schools, but most kids are sent to some ritzy trainer to make sure they can defend themselves.

• No one even blinks when theres a new vigilante by the time Damian comes around. Theres still a little buzz but by the time Duke shows up, people are like “Oh cool another one. HEY BRO WHATS YOUR NAME.” I saw someone post here about how when the Wayne kids get mad at Bruce, they go to Selina and make public appearances as Stray, Catwomans sidekick. I personally believe that Tim was the first one to do it but Dick does it the most, and gothamites didnt even need to get used to Stray showing up sometimes, nor did people really care that Stray was always wildly different heights, shapes, colors, etc. the additude is kinda like “I have taxes and job security to worry about. If a new vigilante is what were doing then so be it.”

• People tend to think that Gothamites aren’t smart, but that city is home to the Richest, smartest, most creative people alive. They mostly just lack morals. Like Dr. Freeze, Harley Quinn, hell even The Riddler are all insanely intelligent. Half of Gothams Villains have at minimum 2 Doctorates in something or other. Gotham generates a lot of cash as a whole, and small businesses thrive there. They have high employment rates, and most citizens have their associates despite everything happening around them. People who have never been to Gotham before expect to have to talk down to the citizens but Gothamites just kinda roll their eyes at them and carry on about their merriment.

• Gothamites CONSTANTLY says “because I’m Batman” when they don’t want to explain themselves. Kids hear it a lot from parents and they also get “If you don’t go to sleep, Condiment Man i gonna come and cover you in stinky relish.” Because truly what else is condiment man good for.

• Gothamites who work at BatBurger and typically work the night shift are used to visits from Batman, Robin, Red Hood, Cat Woman, Harley Quinn, etc. Sometimes they remember the workers and ask about their family, and how life is, and other things like that. Theres some barely 18 y/o who just graduated high school who worls at Bat Burger, and asked Red Hood to help him impress his gf by saying theyre friends. He like fuck it why not and tells the gf that the kid helped him save an old lady’s cat in a tree and now theyre bffs. She totally believes it. Score.

• I see the Gotham thinks Batman is Bruce Wayne’s boyfriend theories and raise you: Its pretty common knowledge that Bruce Wayne is Batman, just no one has the heart to tell him. Also theyre scared he will quit if anyone brings it up. So from this Gothamites created the joke that BW and batman are dating and when asked about it in an interview, dick grayson is like “……yes! My adoptive father is dating the guy who dressed up like a bat every night…!”

• this cuased and arguement between Bruce and Dick because no! Bruce isnt dating Batman! (stray was seen again that week) HE IS BATMAN! But fuck now the public thinks theyre a couple so now bruce gets asked about it and hes like “haha yes my spooky bat bf is who i love very dearly!” As punishment He makes Dick bring him flowers in the batsuit because “as far as he is concerned, this is his shithead son’s fault.” Thats a direct quote btw. Little does he know this somehow ties back to Tim Drake before they met.

[etherealstar-writes]

ORDINARY LIFE | ARSENAL WFC X TEEN AVENGER OC | PT 2

pairings: arsenal women x teen avenger oc (platonic)

summary: in which three close calls occur but thankfully everyone was oblivious.

part two: close calls

part one here

✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦

Weeks had passed since Ameris had joined the club, and she had settled in quite well. Her laid-back personality and easygoing nature quickly made her a favourite among her new teammates. 

She had hit it off particularly well with Kyra Cooney-Cross, another new signing and a few years older than her. The two quickly became a chaotic yet dangerous duo on and off the field. Kyra's hyper, trouble-causing tendencies were balanced by Ameris' calm demeanour, though Ameris often found herself tagging along with Kyra's antics, subtly keeping her in check.

One crisp morning before training, Ameris strolled towards the benches near the field with Leah and Steph, their hands warmed by steaming cups of coffee while she herself had a hot chocolate.

"So, how are you finding London so far?" Steph asked, taking a sip of her drink.

"It's great," Ameris replied with a smile. "I’m really starting to feel at home here."

"Glad to hear it," Leah chimed in. "We need to introduce you to the best spots around here."

As they chatted, a sudden movement caught Ameris' eye. Out of the corner of her vision, she saw Kyra accidentally launch a football their way instead of towards Teyah and Katie, who were playing nearby. Without a second thought, Ameris's reflexes kicked in. She skilfully caught the ball with her free hand, saving both Leah and Steph from spilling their drinks.

"Whoa!" Steph exclaimed, her eyes wide in surprise. "Nice catch!"

“That was insane,” Leah agreed with a matching surprised reaction. "Maybe we should get you in goal with reflexes like that, give Manu a run for her money."

"Just lucky, I guess." Ameris chuckled, trying to brush off the attention. She tossed the ball back to Kyra, Teyah, and Katie, who were staring at her in awe. Kyra was also relieved that she got saved from another scolding.

"Seriously, Adarlan," Katie called out, laughing. "You’ve got skills!"

Ameris gave a nonchalant shrug and a playful grin. "Just trying to keep you on your toes."

Internally, she scolded herself for not being more lowkey. She had worked so hard to blend in and avoid drawing attention to her extraordinary abilities. But seeing everyone laugh and continue with their activities, she felt a wave of relief. 

No one suspected anything, passing it off as pure luck.

~

And then it happened once again after a few days. 

One afternoon after a particularly tiring training session, the team had gathered in the cafeteria for a much-needed break. The room was filled with laughter and the clatter of dishes as everyone helped themselves to the spread of food laid out for them. 

Ameris was walking with Vic and Kyra, who was in the middle of an animated story about a prank she had pulled on Katie earlier that day.

"And then, just as Katie was about to sit down, the chair was gone! You should have seen her face!" Kyra finished, her laughter infectious.

Ameris and Vic both chuckled, shaking their heads. "You're seriously going to get yourself into trouble one of these days, Kyra."

"Hey, it hasn’t happened yet," Kyra replied with a wink.

As their conversation continued and they walked back towards their table, Ameris noticed Alessia and Leah engaged in a playful argument in front of them. And Lessi, gesturing wildly, didn't see the glass of water teetering on the edge of the table next to them, accidentally knocking it over.

In a split second, Ameris's hand shot out, catching it mid-air and placing it safely back on the table.

"Careful, Less," she said with a smile, trying to make it seem like a coincidence. "You don't want to flood the cafeteria."

Alessia blinked, surprised but grateful. "Thanks, Ameris. I didn't even see that. Sorry."

"No problem," Ameris replied, giving a light shrug.

Leah raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "You've seriously got some quick reflexes, Ameris."

Ameris laughed it off. "Just lucky timing, I guess."

Vic playfully punched her shoulder. “You’re like a superhero with those skills.”

Ameris's heart skipped a beat, but she quickly masked her surprise with another laugh. "Haha, I would be a sick superhero."

“Nahhh,” Kyra playfully disagreed. “I’d probably be better than her.”

“Sure you would.” Ameris rolled her eyes. “You'd probably be like a side-kick or a henchman.”

Kyra scoffed in mock offence. "Side-kick?!"

While they continued bantering, Ameris was still grateful they all remained blissfully unaware. Maybe she had to act a bit clumsy to balance it out.

~

A few months had passed since another close call occurred this time.

She had settled into her new life as a football player, making friends and honing her skills on the pitch. The team had become her second family, and she relished the sense of normalcy it brought her.

That was until the day Emily Fox was signed to Arsenal. As everyone gathered around to welcome her, Ameris felt a surge of panic. She remembered watching one of USA's games two years ago with Tony Stark and a few of the Avengers. She had met several of the players, including Emily. 

Keeping her composure, Ameris joined the line of her teammates to greet the new arrival.

When it was her turn, she extended her hand with a calm smile. "Hey there, I'm Ameris. Welcome to Arsenal."

Emily knew she recognised her from somewhere, but couldn’t exactly place it until she remembered her name. "Ameris? Hey, I do remember you. Didn't you come to watch one of our games a couple of years ago with Tony Stark?"

Ameris's heart skipped a beat. She could feel Kyra's curiosity flare up beside her.

"Hold on. Tony Stark?! Like Iron Man himself? What?" Kyra's exclamation drew the attention of several teammates, including Leah, Alessia, Katie, and Steph.

Ameris quickly composed herself, forcing a casual laugh. "Yeah, something like that. My family kinda knew Tony from work, and we ended up sitting together at the game. It was a great experience."

Leah raised an eyebrow, intrigued but not pressing further. "Sounds like quite the connection."

Katie nudged Ameris playfully. "Yeah, you never told us you had such interesting family friends."

Ameris shrugged, keeping her tone light. "It didn't seem that important. Plus, I didn't want to brag."

Steph, seemingly perceptive, gave Ameris a reassuring smile. "Well, it's a cool story. And welcome again, Emily. We're glad to have you."

With the attention diverted back to Emily and the team's excitement over their new signing, Ameris let out an internal sigh of relief, sending Steph a thankful look who smiled warmly in return. 

The defender had been keeping an eye on the teenager since she’d joined the club with Kyra, and was seemingly the only one that had noticed Ameris’ constant vigilance which was masked skilfully by her laid-back persona.

While everyone seemed to gloss over all these hints, Steph was slowly beginning to suspect that there was more to the young striker than she was letting on, but kept it to herself for now. 

As they all moved to the training pitch, Kyra slid next to Ameris, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Meeting the Avengers, damn! You sure know how to keep secrets, don't you?"

Ameris chuckled, grateful for Kyra's lightheartedness. "You have no idea."

✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦

hey everyone! sorry i almost completely forgot i had this account lol but here's another chapter! i love reading all your comments and they really motivate me to continue writing so pls feel free to comment your thoughts <33

[tanadrin]

while i think like. *inaction* born from pessimism is misguided, and the state of the world being really bad does not necessarily imply it is immutably so, and what this might say about the appropriate *emotions* is like, fuck if i know, but i think both a) the world is objectively worse than it ever has been and getting worse, this is just straightforward statistics on animal agriculture and b) somewhat more disputable but from my american-centric viewpoint the current political situation looks *really* bad, there is a serious risk of national authoritarian far right rule, like the trump campaign is openly making plans to occupy cities with federal troops and round up millions in concentration camps and purge the bureaucracy of anyone who isnt a loyalist and might object, and state governments are already becoming increasingly oppressive, meanwhile the liberal establishment is... supporting a genocide abroad, and appeasing the right by going after immigrants domestically. i think the attitude the online left takes to the world is often extremely broken but this is not that they think the world is worse than it is or they are too doomery or whatever but that like, they seem detached from actually trying to do anything about it (as opposed to Posting) i think you are being rather needlessly uncharitable honestly to people who pessimism-adjacent post at you.

the world is objectively worse than it ever has been and getting worse, this is just straightforward statistics on animal agriculture

This is an insane claim to me. Are you just basing this on the existence of factory farming + a strict utilitarian position that weights animal lives equally to that of humans?

from my american-centric viewpoint the current political situation looks really bad

Trumpism worries me too! But this is not a process immune to human influence like a roulette wheel or something. If you're in the United States, this is a thing you have the power to affect especially as the election draws nearer (volunteer, phone bank, etc.).

(I also think Biden's chances are a bit better than polls or the media portray them to be right now; the election is certainly not a shoe-in, but the polls are really weird right now, in a way which seems to be sampling bias that underrates Biden's support.)

i think the attitude the online left takes to the world is often extremely broken but this is not that they think the world is worse than it is or they are too doomery or whatever but that like, they seem detached from actually trying to do anything about it (as opposed to Posting)

I disagree. I think anybody who thinks there's no relevant distinction between Trump and Biden, who thinks we are making no progress on fighting climate change, or who thinks that the economic situation in the US is worse than it was in the 1970s has a view of the world which is wildly distorted; but these are all relatively popular claims online!

I also don't think this distorted worldview is separable from the chronic inaction. I think the doomerism is the cause of the inaction; if the only thing that would help is the revolution (which you are not organizing anyway), you have no incentive to do anything else, so you sit at home, and you post to each other about how bad everything is, and that reinforces the impression you get from social media that everything is bad and you are correct not to do anything to try to make it better.

i think you are being rather needlessly uncharitable honestly to people who pessimism-adjacent post at you.

You haven't seen my posts before I edit them to make them more polite. I am being extremely charitable, especially relative to how charitable I want to be.

[redheadspark]

heyy can i have benedict from bridgerton x reader prompt #17

A/N - I love this for Benedict! Thanks for requesting this, anon!

Tame

Summary - Benedict was not one to tame his wife, he would rather let her be herself instead

Warnings - Just angst and fluff mixed together.

“The audacity of that woman!”

You plopped down on the loveseat, a scowl on your face as your husband, Benedict Bridgerton perked up from his spot at his office desk.  You were rubbing your temples, and a headache was threatening to come over you rapidly from the conversation you said had some minutes before in the parlor.  Now you simply wanted to hide out with your husband on the other side of the estate.  It was mostly a home, not even an estate since it was rather small and only a handful of rooms.  

“I take it the tea went well with your mother?” Benedict hummed in amusement as you glared at him.  Benedict knew you weren’t truly mad at him, a soft smile on his lips as you leaned back a bit more in the loveseat, not even caring how un-ladylike you were appearing in the teal dress you decided to wear that day.

“She was not in the best of moods when discussing my brother, though I would rather hear her gossip about her circles of friends and their poor taste in men than to hear her talk about my brother in such a way,” You explained in a mellow tone.  Benedict chuckled as he took out a spare notepad, then retrieved a charcoal pencil that he would use to sketch as he leaned back in his chair and eyed his wife.  He loved the spitfire nature you had when you spoke about the dysfunctional nature of your family. It would make him chuckle to hear you rant and rage about your mother in particular, who was always trying to make a great impression in society but could never do it naturally.  

“Do you wish to discuss it?” He asked, knowing fully well that it was better for you to let it all out than to hold it in.  He discovered that tactic very early in their friendship together, even before he decided to court you and then ask for your hand in marriage.  Bottling it up inside of you never worked in your favor in the past.  

So you took in a long inhale, then recited the entire conversation word for word.

It was therapeutic for you to confide in Benedict with all that was happening with your family.  At first, you were afraid to tell him, thinking that it would paint you in such a bad light to say such things about your family.  However, Benedict was never one to judge when it came to family gossip.  He too had to deal with his siblings and their antics, you two would swap stories in your early courting moments.  But after seeing you in distress and about to be in tears after talking to your mother and father, he simply brought up the suggestion of talking about what happened.  

After you unload all that was inside of you for at least 5 minutes, Benedict was watching your shoulders lose the tension and the stress melt away from your face.  You were even breathing easier, a look of shock on your face as Benedict smiled widely at you and took your hand in his.

“Better?” He asked, you looking at him with a tentative smile and nodding your head.

“Much better,” You replied.

This was just the same, you talking wild about the gossip your mother was telling you.  Gossip about your brother’s upcoming marriage and the apparent scandal behind your future sister-in-law. Benedict was giving you the space to unleash all of the rage that you had bottled up from the moment you left the tea and made it back home, his charcoal was already at work as he was sketching and listening to you at the same time.  You then got up and paced back and forth, your hands moving wildly as your tone was going up and down with the insane story you were telling him.

“And poor Josephine!  She’s so lovely and makes my brother happy, though my own mother does not see that and only sees her last name!  The nerve of that woman, she’s acting the same way she did when she found out I was marrying you!” You commented, Benedict looking up briefly from his sketch and chuckling.

“She warmed up to me in the end, did she not?” He reasoned though you huffed at the words.

“Took her far too long to do so, dear,” You replied as you looked over at what he was doing.  He was still sketching, you raising a brow to him and then pointing to his paper.

“What are you doing?” You questioned him, the heat and anger no longer evident in your voice as Benedict still remained calm at his desk.

“Simply drawing the love of my life,” He replied nonchalantly, you feeling that tension and anger that you had second ago melted away from the sentence as he looked up at you with his smile and the brightness in his eyes.  You knew deep down he was listening and letting you get it all out of your system to feel more at ease, Benedict was amazing with you when it came to making you feel loved and safe.  No matter that he loved amusement and being more light-hearted than his other siblings, he still had a heart and adored taking care of you.  Perhaps even distract you and find a way to bring you ease.  

Ever since you two started courting one another, you wanted Benedict of your fiery nature how you were no dainty flower.  He never strayed from your warnings, in fact, he was more intrigued with you as you two were publicly a couple. Rumors and gossip about you and Benedict being together spread like wildfire, plenty of Benedict’s friends and fellow bachelors were warning him about your temper and how you were no true young lady because of the rules you would never follow.  

Yet he still stayed on your arm, still accompanied you to balls and galas, and he would protect every rumor that would come your way.  In the end, your wedding was the talk of the town, and you were now in a healthy marriage with the love of your life who saw more light in you than any other dared to in the past.  

You walked over, seeing Benedict lean back a bit for you to see his handiwork as you peered over his shoulder,  A small sketch of you on the couch, the curves along your arms and the detail on your cheeks and nose, it was a gorgeous sketch that he whipped out of nowhere.  

His craft was nothing short of perfection in your eyes.  He found beauty in everything around them, though he would brag that you were his muse from the moment he laid eyes on you at a Spring Ball so long ago.  He would leave sketches of you to find all over the home, especially on days when you were stressed or sad.  You’d find a sketch on your nightstand next to the bed, on the kitchen table next to your favorite tea cup, or even in your own office on top of your desk. You loved that quirk about him, among other things that had you falling in love with him.  The one attribute that you adored about your husband was his eye to see the beauty in everything around him.

Including you.

“Benedict,” You hummed, seeing the sketch with wide eyes and a soft smile on your lips.  You were no longer thinking about the tea or even the heated argument you had with your mother, you were simply staring at the simple and yet beautiful picture that your husband drew within minutes.  Benedict got up from the chair and wrapped you in his arms, kissing you soundly and taking your breath away.  He gained against your lips, your heart slamming against your chest rapidly as you were smiling against his lips in return.  

When he pulled away, he peered down at you with his smile still evident while he reached with one hand to frame your face lovingly, “You are quite the woman with that fire in your belly, it only reflects in the beauty I see in you,”

“And you are far too good of a husband to let me be vocal and vile when I need to be,” you commented. Benedict was then chuckling as you pecked his lips, “How do you put up with me so easily when I act un-lady-like?”

“It’s not me putting up with you, it’s me letting you be yourself and feel open to do so,” He explained, you hugging him tightly.  You adored being with Benedict all this time, through the tough and light times and even through the joy and the pain.  Benedict never let your love dwindle or diminish, and you have a bright future to look forward to together.  He gave you room to be ourself, to vent or lash out when it was stuck inside for far too long.  

Leave it to Benedict to never tame you.

The End

May Prompt Session

[bhaalble]

Insane about Orin again. What makes me nuts (/pos) is the wildly different impressions you get of her on a Tav run vs a Durge run. On a Tav run Orin is functionally murder royalty. Her assassins are kept well in-line, she bears the mantle of slayer. Sarevok tells you about her lineage of Bhaalspawn and how early on she was singled out as special. She was the youngest ever Unholy Assassin and a literal mouthpiece of Bhaal as a child. Gortash definitely views her as unstable and plans to sever the alliance regardless, but it feels much more like a concern for his own safety than anything else.

Contrast this to a Durge run where she's talked about as the perpetual upstart. Scleritas of course contributes to this in a big way, needling at her sheltered Temple existence as opposed to Durge's experience of the outside world. Sarevok is MUCH more dismissive of her and her accomplishments, all but saying he's rooting for you to take her down a peg. You find journal entries from Durge calling her murder tableaus a waste of not only her time, but Bhaal's. Its up for debate how much Gortash MEANS anything he says to Durge but his clear preference seems to be something even she's aware of. I haven't yet found any dialogue that indicates whether or not the incident when she killed her mother where Bhaal used her as a mouthpiece still happened in a Durge run. Assuming it did, how must that feel to have all that happen and yet your father still passes his favor to someone else! His Chosen, not you but some purer incarnation of his blood. His Slayer, not you who have killed even your own kin in his name, but the lobotomized wreck of your half-sibling who may even be working against him. There's so much you can reflect off of how Bhaal treats the Durge if they lose the duel, the way his favor (or lack thereof) can dominate the whole of your existence. The sibling trauma is DEEP and visceral

[la2yn0va]

Hello! Can i request some yandere black swan, Robin, Sparkle and Robin (non self aware) x male reader who has an insane willpower and cannot be control, please? In other words they have resistant or are semi-immune to mind control and cannot be really manipulated, not only that the reader is extremely good at advoiding them to the point that makes them extemely frustrated.

Where’s my good luck you little shi…— wait a minute… “Can i request some yandere black swan, Robin, Sparkle and…” ROBIN AGAIN!!? OH HELL NO!! YOU GREEDY LITTLE BASTARD! YOU WANT ROBIN TWICE BUT WONT GIVE ME GOOD LUCK OOORRR MAKE A DEAL WITH THE DEVIL/GOD FOR ME TO HAVE E6S5 FEIXIAO!!

HELL NO! YOUR GETTING 1! NUMERO UNO ROBIN! YOU GREEDY FU—!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Robin

She first sees your power when you get interrogated by Sunday. She didn’t like it, but it was for the greater good. She watched as Sunday spoke the magical words and…! You were… resisting!

Everyone who saw this stared in shock. No one had been able to ever resist the words of harmony (I forget what it’s called)

Despite this revelation, it was decided that you were innocent and you were let go. Robin wanted to talked to you, to apologize first and find out how you were able to resist the truth of harmony.

But, you didn’t want a thing to do with her. Having your time wasted and taken into interrogation with less then substantial evidence. And now Sundays sister wants to talk? Yeah, no.

This little game of cat and mouse slowly fills robin up with guilt. She doesn’t want you to hate her or Sunday! But she also doesn’t want that experience to be your overall opinion on her and her brother.

She wants to find you to apologize and learn more about you, but you don’t a squat to do with her or the family anymore.

Robin is also pretty frustrated but even more enamored with you by how well you avoid her. It’s frustrating that you’re this stubborn but also impressive in a way.

Eventually, she uses her social platform/music to reach out to you and ask for a meet up. Which eventually you cave in and meet her.

She’s fulled with complete relief and joy when she sees you walking towards her. She immediately takes your hand and bows, apologizing profusely for her brothers actions, being taken into questioning, and her persistent chasing of you.

You accept and the rest of the day is spent with you two getting along. But not Sunday. Fuck Sunday.

Sparkle

She had recently gotten a new toy from penacony. A gun that’s rumored to control the minds of those who get shot from it.

Seeing the potential fun in it, she shoots random people with it. Pepeshi’s, Woman, Men, Intellitrons, pretty much anyone she sees.

Oh fucking not how fun it was!! From making her newly acquired helpers to cook for her to making them put up a large poster in the middle of penacony saying ‘Aha sends their regards~!’

She quickly got bored of it though. But then she bumped into YOU. Her intuition said you were interesting, that something fun was right infront of her. So…she shot you.

She saw as you jerked forward slightly, watching as you turned to her, your pupil’s slowly morphing into spirals before returning back to their dark circular form.

She smiled wildly, seeing you somehow being able to reject the mind control! Well count yourself lucky good sir cause now you’re caught her attention!

But..you don’t wanna talk to her… huh… a Challenge!! Finally!! She instantly runs after you, but your… already gone!? Oh this is gonna be fun!

Sparkle thrives in this game of cat and mouse. She enjoys how you can skillfully avoid her! I makes this whole trip to penacony worth it.

But when she eventually does find you, she demands an answer to her questions. And now that she has you in her grasp, she ain’t letting go until you answer.

This is how your little friendship starts. From you being completely uninterested and annoyed to enjoying being the mouse and skillfully/stealthily avoiding your psychotic friend.

Black Swan

Black Swan as a memokeeper does have some techniques to make people…’willingly’ tell her the information she needs to know.

So when she was indeed of some information, she decided to use this method of hers. But much to her shock, the person she used it on was resisting it!

That immediately caught her attention. Someone, strong enough mentally to resist a memokeepers mental attacks? That’s most certainly an abnormal person.

She keeps you in her mind while she looks for the information she seeks. And as if fate was taunting her, YOU were the person with the info she needed.

So, she does want any normal person does and tracks you down. But surprisingly, your much harder to find then she thought.

Honestly, it annoyed her but also heightened her interest in you. What or WHO are you exactly?

She looks everywhere yet your not in the golden hour area nor the child’s dream area. Which leads her deeper into penacony.

The dreamscape. She managed to find her way into the secret area and look around for you. Eventually, she found you in the lobby area of the dreamscape.

Just casually sitting down on the couch and staring into the celling. She sat down next to you and you two began to chat.

Eventually she managed to get the information she needed from you and left the dreamscape with you. She decided to take you with her, after all, you had caught her interest.

-End-

Now where’s my good luck 🔫

[silverzoomies]

quickie 22 please please please🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

Peter Maximoff/Reader drabble: ⚡"Shh, just a little more..."⚡ warnings: dilf!peter, wardrobe malfunctions, awkward boners. this one isn't as filthy as it could be. sorry! i'll try and make the next ones extra filthy as compensation 💗

In one of the mansion’s guest bathrooms, Peter tugs the useless zipper of his dress pants.

Tonight’s the big night. Some millionaire humans are hosting another boring party. Big name politicians. Or business managers. Or whatever. Who the hell knows? Peter sure doesn’t. The last thing he wants is to attend another fancy affair. But Charles told the team it was mandatory. If only to make a positive impression on humans.

Eugh. Peter can’t stand that kinda shit. Playing kiss ass for a bunch of rich assholes. Elitist pricks who don’t care whether mutants live or die. On nights like this, Peter almost sympathizes with his absent father’s extremist mentality.

The team are all dressed up in expensive suits and glittery gowns. They wait together in the entrance hall. Five and half minutes passed since Peter insisted he’d be ready to go.

And, see, he didn’t mean to come back so late tonight.

He only wanted to spend as much time with his daughter as possible. Right down to the last second, Peter immersed himself completely in Luna’s little world. It’s not his fault he rarely gets to see her. His ex Crystal keeps him at such an arm’s length. Peter fears he won’t have a real relationship with the little peanut if he doesn't make the most of every moment.

Again. Running behind schedule? Not his fault.

And the fact that his zipper got stuck? That’s not his fault either. Peter wrestles with the godforsaken thing for another two minutes. He’s driving himself insane with it, since it took him only a half second to dress up in his newly tailored, uber expensive, rental suit.

Which, by the way, Peter won’t hesitate to admit; even though he hates dressing up, he looks ultra sharp. Like a suave, silver fox.

In a superspeed blur, he fumbles with the zipper to no avail. He alternates between squatting and standing. Peter tugs even harder, but the goddamn thing won’t budge. Even more frustrating, he can’t bend over enough to get a look at what’s causing his wardrobe malfunction. Another minute passes. And just when he thinks he’s gonna give up, go out, and give the world a peek at his undies; you come knocking at the door.

Peter’s saving grace. Like an angel from the heavens.

For a half second, the door flies open before Peter pulls you quickly inside by your arm. He drags you into the cramped, guest bathroom with him. With his back against the sink, he takes another half-second to check you out. Peter’s beady, lidded eyes zip all across, up and down your body, admiring your figure in a luxury dress. 

You whisper-shout at him, gesturing wildly with your hands, “What’s taking you so long? Scott’s about to freak out! Our ride’s here waiting and everything. Logan said we should just leave you here!” 

Oh. Right. The party. He almost forgot. Pulling his speedy gaze from your hips, Peter focuses on his cumbersome zipper again. “I’ll be there in a sec. Promise! Jeez. Can’t they all just slow their roll? Someone really needs to teach those guys some patience, amiright?” Peter snickers, grabbing a handful of his crotch, tugging his zipper hard with his opposite, “Motherfu-”

“You...uh...having some trouble?” 

You cross your arms, cocking a hip to the side as you watch his thick fingers fight his zipper. Peter rolls his eyes.

“Nope. I just felt like goin’ on a date with Pamela Handerson before our big night. What’s it look like??”

Cracking the briefest hint of a smile, you shake your head and wave your hands dismissively. “We don’t have time for this.” You note.

"You're tellin' me. I just can't get it to-" Peter stiffens as you step closer, pressing your curvy body against his, "Oh, hell-o."

With the stressful determination of a mother on school picture day; you double check the rest of his suit. Your gentle hands smooth the faint crinkles in his dress shirt, doing the same with his jacket, adjusting his tie - all before bringing your hand down to his crotch. Following a short apology, you blindly feel for that pesky zipper. On accident, you grab a firm handful of something else.

Peter jolts in place against the sink, canting his hips into your touch. In a flash, he latches a strong grip around your wrist. The corners of his eyes crinkle with fine lines as he playfully narrows his gaze.

“Whoaaa, there. Easy with the merchandise, baby.”

“Whoops! My bad. I'm just trying to help.” You raise a quizzical brow, challenging Peter with a look, "And who're you calling baby?"

"You is who I'm callin' baby, baby." He chimes in a playful tone, matching your teasing gaze.

He loosens his hold on your wrist, giving you free rein to continue.

After a beat or two, he adds, "And, hey, if you're still down for later..."

"Down? Down for what?"

"Y'know. Shopping for merchandise?"

He notices the way you suppress a riled laugh, ignoring his advances for the time being. You fight with his problematic zipper for a solid minute or two before ultimately sinking to your knees. Perching yourself on the floor in front of him, nose to crotch, you lean in as closely as you can. Peter feels blossoming heat flare up in his cheeks. Swallowing hard, he rests his hands on the edge of the sink behind him.

For a momentary instant, you lean back on with your ass resting on your heels. Peter gets a choice view of your flush cleavage. Pillowy and coaxing him to stare. He gnaws his lip and knits his mercury brows. His dusky gaze follows the motion of you leaning in, practically burying your face in his crotch to get a good look at the pesky pants culprit.

“Uhhh…hey…look, you really don’t gotta-” He chokes, his fingers clenching the countertop tighter.

“Aha! I found it! Just gimme a quick sec.”

A loose piece of fabric caught the zipper. You bring both hands up to try and tear it free, but it still won’t budge. Taking a more risky approach, you pull his fly open, ripping the piece of cloth with your teeth. Peter shudders as a sublime tingle races through his body. Warmth swarms in his groin. A more vulnerable expression overtakes his worn, rugged features.

“Oh my g-...uhm…babe…it’s cool. Seriously. You can stop now. I won’t hold it against you. Thanks for tryin'. I’ll just take one for the team and-”

You pull back again with a focused whisper, squinting your eyes.

“Shh, just a little more...”

“N-No. I’m not foolin’ around. I really think you should call it quits before-”

“SHHHH! Wait, I got it!”

It’s not until your teeth shred the fabric, freeing the zipper at last - that you realize he’s pitching a tent in his pants. Your hand rests over his crotch, and you can feel him pulsing hotly under your palm. Freezing in place, gaping at the (impressive) bulging sight before you, you steadily tilt your head up. Your pretty eyes peer at Peter with partial caution, and partial curiosity.

When you meet his sluggish, wide-eyed gaze; Peter has a hand covering his mouth. Staring down at you, his face burns blazing hot. He pauses, running his hand up from his mouth and through his silver hair, mussing the clean look he took so much time (a few microseconds) to style.

"Okay. In my defense-"

"Been a while?" You taunt him with a flirty chuckle.

Peter tips his head back, exhaling a throaty laugh, "Yeah. Been while."

[garnet-xx-rose]

What I love so much about Phantom is that it’s super sexy without really being about sex. Sex is mentioned sure, and characters allude to it occurring in the opera house, but it’s not really there. There’s no big makeout scene or direct suggestion of a hookup like in other shows or media. It’s really the audience’s own interpretation of what the three leads are doing when not on stage.

I think it’s wildly impressive that this show about people from near 200 years ago, exudes this sense of sensuality, desire and intimacy that people and couples today are still inspired by and try to emulate. I honestly cannot think of another show where the anticipation of a kiss or touch that doesn’t happen makes people this insane.

[friendsoup]

Hi!! I love your writing and i saw request open though i not sure if you write for medicine pocket. If you do, could you medicine pocket and dikke separately with a usually shy and quiet gn reader that have a secret crush on them and indirectly confess by complaining while in the middle of the battle how reader think medi and dikke are prettier than reader and how amazing they are etc because reader accidentally inhale digger's bubble that cause reader drunk? I sorry if this is confusing but digger bubble seem to cause people high or drunk like so i think that be funny senerio

Sober Thoughts...

Recipe: Romantic confession, Drunk!Reader, Reader x Medicine Pocket, Reader x Dikke, GN! Reader, Lots of bullying Digger..., Reader uses they/them pronouns, tsundere Medicine Pocket..... WC: 1,610 Chef's Note: I'm still learning to write Medicine Pocket, so hopefully this wasn't too bad... Reader acts more like a drunk person in the Dikke version than in the Medicine Pocket version. I hope this is what you wanted, anon!!

The fight was getting boring. You, Digger, and Medicine Pocket were on the front lines this time, mercilessly smashing the critters that threatened the group. To be honest, you felt a bit of pity towards the creatures, an odd twinge of guilt twisting your stomach as you pummeled them without any trouble. It was simply too easy.

But you couldn’t afford to slow down on them. Medicine Pocket was here, and you wanted to impress them. Badly. You could feel their eyes on you from where they stood, boring into the back of your neck. They always seemed to stare so intensely at you, in a way that made your face go warm and your heart beat faster. You had a crush on them, though you’d never say it aloud. You were content with their stares and battling at their side. “I think that’s the last of them!” You called back to your team. You turned your head away from your foes to look at the group, confident that you’d won. It was right then, however, Digger had decided to blow one of his bubbles, which hit you right in the face. “Gah! Sorry! Wasn’t aimin’ for ya, dude!” Digger put his hands in the air, eyes wide with guilt. “You fucking idiot!” You heard Medicine Pocket squeal. “Don’t you ever look at what you’re doing!” They hissed, breaking formation to make their way to you. “Whatever. Let a real doctor make sure they aren’t poisoned, or anything.” “Sorry…” Digger muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “They shouldn’t be poisoned or anything. They’ll just be a bit loopy.” He attempts to defend. Medicine Pocket shoots him a look that makes him shut right up.

“Here, look at me.” Medicine Pocket tells you. You simply can’t, staring holes into your shoes. Your face feels warm with all the attention that’s on you, your chest feeling fuzzy as the bubble’s effects begin kicking in. “[Name]...” Pocket Medicine coos, lifting up your chin with their gloved hand. “I told you to look at me.”

Their yellow eyes stare into yours, and all at once you feel violently ill. They wear that same intense stare, like they’re studying you, picking you apart from the outside in. You tremble underneath their gaze, your knees feeling suddenly very weak.

“Gaaahhh, I can’t take it anymore!” You whine, lifting your head from their grasp. Medicine Pocket takes a step back, blinking in surprise, while you shake your head wildly. “I can’t take it! How are you so pretty?!”

“I’m…” Medicine Pocket’s eyebrows furrow, a quizzical look spreading on their face. 

“Your eyes are like jewels!” You cry, dragging your hand through your hair. “Your face is so stupidly beautiful, it’s driving me insane!” You feel tears bubbling at the ends of your eyes. “Digger.” Medicine Pocket snaps, looking at the hippie. Digger hides behind his hands, as if attempting to disappear. “Explain this.” Digger attempts a smile, though he’s too worried for it to be genuine. “Some people get emotional when they’re drunk! They’re probably just saying whatever’s on their mind!” Medicine Pocket’s glare intensifies, as Digger shrinks back. “That’s stupid.” They exclaim. “Why would they think I’m-” “And smart too!” You shout. “Every time you talk, it makes me feel so dumb! I can barely understand you! How can someone be so brilliant?!” Medicine Pocket giggles at that. “Well, you’re right. I am very smart.” “And so skilled in battle!” You continue. “True!” They smile. “And so damn easy to fall in love with!” “That’s- Ah?!” Medicine Pocket’s face goes red, their expression paused in shock. “Is this a confession?” They ask, unsure how to react. “Every night I’m awake, thinking about how much I love you! Every time you look at me, I feel like someone’s setting me on fire! I want you more than anything! It’s so stupid! Why do you have to be so damn lovable?! You’re driving me insane, Pocket!” “How is that my fault, dumbass?!” Medicine Pocket asks, hiding their face behind their hand. “H-Hey!” Digger began, walking in between the two of you. “Let’s all take a deep breath! I think the most important thing is getting our friend here home safe. Look, Medicine Pocket, if you don’t want to deal with this right now, I’ll take them back to the suitcase…” “And have a asshole like you fuck this up even more?!” Medicine Pocket snaps. “No way! I’m taking them to the suitcase. I’m not letting you ruin anything else.” Grabbing your hand, Medicine Pocket begins to pull you away. “We’re going, asshole. Come on, dumbass.” They hiss, beginning to walk. Your face burns at the touch, even if it’s through cloth. Once you’re far enough away from Digger, Medicine Pocket begins to speak again.

“I guess… Your stupid face is pretty cute too.” They mutter.

...Are Drunk Words

Dikke wasn’t used to these types of teams. When you were put on board, she was fairly okay with it. Sure, you were a bit shy and soft spoken, but you at least knew how to fight. However, when Digger was placed alongside her… She had a few complaints for the Timekeeper. Complaints that she’d never hear, as knights aren’t supposed to complain, but she was annoyed all the same. At least she could take the front of the battle, and not have to worry about the two of you getting into trouble. She could block the attacks coming your way, and keep an eye on the enemy while Digger made his sorry attempt at an attack spell.

She was confident that the battle had just been won when… “Oh crap! Sorry!” Digger exclaimed. Dikke turned her head to see what the fool had done now, when her eyes fell upon you, swaying in place. Instantly anger filled her chest, as she shot daggers at Digger, who was already trying to shy away. “What did you do.” She demanded, spitting straight venom at the man. “I didn’t mean to, I swear! I was just blowin’ a bubble, when they came out in front of me! Honest!” Digger explained, waving his hands wildly. “Enough.” Dikke growled. “Speak, you.” She shot a look at you, concern beginning to form on her face. “Ough, always so commanding…” You shot back, holding up a finger to point at her. “Youu… You gotta take a load off!” You told her, offering a smile. “Relax every once in a while, it won’t kill you!” “A knight does not relax.” Dikke argued, pulling a face. She’d seen this type of behavior before. From knights and peasants at rowdy pubs. She’d always hated those scenes, too loud and too dangerous. To see you wearing their behavior was uncomfortable. “Waaahhh… Dikke! If you frown like that, your pretty face is going to get wrinkles!” You blurt, crossing your arms. “It’s not good for your skin to look all mad like that!” Dikke’s face went red, her eyes looking anywhere but at you. “We… We have to fight. We can’t sit here and discuss aging.” “Fight, fight, fight, that’s all you wanna do!” You whine. “Can’t we just have fun? Just the two of us?” You ask, batting your eyelashes at the worried Dikke. “What are you talking about?” Dikke asked, glancing from the enemy to you. There was so much going on at the moment, she didn’t know who to focus on. As much as she wanted to comfort you, there was still a fight going on. “We’ll talk about this later.” She decides, brandishing her sword and turning to attack. “Noooo!” You cry. “Don’t leave me!” You stomp your feet like a toddler, feelings bubbling up inside you. 

Dikke almost pulls back, when the creature slashes at her. Without thinking, she strikes back, pulling her sword through the critter. Black ooze gushes out of it, as it’s body falls into two perfectly halved pieces. “Woaaah!” You exclaim, clapping your hands. “Dikke, you’re so fierce! It’s amazing! You’re so beautiful when you fight!” What was going on?! You were just condemning her for fighting seconds ago, and now you were complimenting her fierceness?! Dikke’s heart rate was beginning to rise, her face heating with embarrassment. It felt strange to have a fan.

“H-Hey, [Name], chill out! I think you’re making Dikke angry…” Digger whispered into your ear. Nothing could be further from the truth, but the intense face Dikke was making was beginning to worry him. He didn’t want you to be caught in her crossfire. “Huh?!” You exclaimed. “I’m… making Dikke angry?!” Your eyes began to water, tears quickly falling down your face. “But, I only want to make her happy!” Digger took a step back, confused with the sudden shift in your behavior. Dikke’s eyes met him again and narrowed, making his heart leap to his throat. “[Name].” Dikke commanded, taking your cheek with an armored hand. “Cease your crying. You did not upset me.” You sniffle. “So, you liked that I called you beautiful?” Dikke jumps again, caught off guard by such a bold question. “I… I suppose it was… acceptable…” You jumped onto her, wrapping your hands around the knight and pulling her into a hug. “Yay! I’m so glad!” You cheered. “I love you, I love you!”

Dikke’s face made a deeper shade of red as she lifted you off your feet, holding you bridal style. “You cannot fight like this.” She decided, beginning to walk towards the direction of the suitcase. “I’’ll get you home safely.”

“Woah, woah, wait!” Digger shouted out behind her. “What am I supposed to do with the rest of these monsters?!”

“Fight them.” Dikke said with a sneer. “Or perish.”

[ilovetheriddler]

Escape room affections.

(BTAS) The Riddler/Edward Nygma X F!Reader.

(The escape room is really badly designed, and the puzzles don't actually do anything. This obviously frustrates Edward greatly.)

Word Count: 691.

Contents: Edward being frustrated, kisses, and affection.

You couldn't help but chuckle slightly at the sight of your boyfriend Edward, slowly losing his mind as a result of the escape room that you thought would be a fun date idea to do.

You truly love and adore Edward and how intelligent he is... but at times, that is his biggest flaw. Like now, as he was overthinking this escape room. He was so frantically trying to piece together puzzles that, in his mind and opinion, should work.

A part of you honestly didn't even have the heart to tell him that those puzzles weren't actually important and that the escape room was just really poorly designed and didn't actually use puzzles, that those were just there for decoration.

"Damn it! Why isn't this working? It's clearly the only correct solution to this!"

"Edward, sweetheart, I think that -"

"Not now, my love! I'm trying to figure out why this isn't working, These puzzles are borderline, something a toddler could solve. So the fact that they aren't working, despite me having clearly solved them, is a huge insult to me!"

He continued trying to solve the, quite literally, useless puzzles. The frustration and growing anger apparent on his face. You feel a bit guilty. When you saw that a new escape room had been opened, you thought it would be fun for Edward, that it would be a cute date idea. But perhaps you should have looked more into it beforehand. You walk over to him and place your hand on his shoulder.

"Edward.... the puzzles aren't important...."

A genuine look of surprise and confusion immediately crosses his face. He's silent for a few moments, clearly processing exactly what you just said to him. Before it fully registers with him and that look of frustration returns.

"Well, that's just idiotic! What kind of archaic fools create an escape room that doesn't rely on puzzles?!"

"I don't know.... listen, um, I'm sorry about this... I wasn't aware of it beforehand... so I'm sorry if I've unintentionally ruined our date...."

He looked slightly taken aback by your sudden saddened tone.

"My love, I assure you that while I am frustrated over the foolish design of this escape room, I'm not upset at you. In fact, the fact that I got to spend time with you is the only saving grace from this evening!"

"Really...? I'm glad then... oh! Um... here, I found it in one of the plants a few minutes ago..."

You hand him a simple key, more specifically, the key to get out of here. You feel your face heat up slightly once he leans in and places a simple yet sweet kiss on your cheek.

"Thank you, my love. I appreciate you trying to set up a date that I'd enjoy. It's not your fault that it went.... somewhat awry."

He unlocks the door, and the two of you leave the wildly underwhelming escape room. Edward has a certain look in his eyes that catches your attention, like he's planning something in his head.

"You know, I could make an escape room leagues more impressive than... that disgrace back there! Oh... perhaps i could even use it as a new challenge for Batman! Yes, that'd be perfect!"

"Well, if anyone can design an insane escape room, then it'd probably be you..."

He gets a somewhat smug yet genuine grin on his face at your compliment. He drapes his arm over your shoulders as you walk, leaning into you some. He then presses a gentle and quick kiss to your lips suddenly. Ruffling your hair slightly once he pulls away.

"Oh course, it'll be great, my dear. I'll finally be able to put an end to that caped crusader after all this time! I'm sure it'll work this time... oh, and I'd love for you to test it out for me.... before I add anything lethal, I mean."

"I'd be overjoyed to test out your escape room trap whenever you finish it....."

Edward walks you back to your apartment, bidding you goodnight before he starts making his way back to his place. He has plans that he must attend to...

[voxofthevoid]

In light of JJK 239, I am once again obsessing over Kenjaku and Yuuji—not that I ever really stopped.

What I want out of Sukuna vs. Yuuji is for Yuuji to tear a motherfucker apart, but with Kenjaku and Yuuji, I’m desperate for a conversation. Not in the sense of some wildly jarring parent–son heart-to-heart, but a clash of ideals in verbal form, like what we got out of the Mahito–Yuuji interactions.  

Yuuji, probably because of some blend of how he was raised with no knowledge of jujutsu and just who he is as a person, clearly views cursed energy as a means to an end. He wants to help people, and jujutsu helps him do that. Even prior to his cog mentality (and I’d love to see how that has changed or evolved, if it has, after Sukuna left his body), he seems to view what he can do with cursed energy as an extension of what he can do with his body. He’s good at it, he’s proud of it, and he has a truly impressive growth rate, but his talents are innate and his skills develop organically; I don’t get the impression that he views jujutsu itself as something to explore for its own sake. Essentially, he’s someone who’ll get stronger for the sake of the results, not the methods.

And then you have Kenjaku:

Yuuji might have inherited his insane adaptability from his mum (though an argument can be made for Itadori “Yeah That’s My Dead Wife, What Of It” Jin too), but he sure as shit doesn’t have their scientific curiosity. I think Kenjaku’s line of thinking—more specifically, its consequences—would strike Yuuji as frankly perverse.

I don’t have nearly enough of a handle on Kenjaku’s character to predict how they’d react, or even the extent and nature of their current interest in Yuuji, but some of my favorite panels from the Shibuya arc are the Kenjaku–Yuuji fight scenes, where Kenjaku kind of just…talks at Yuuji, like they’re giving him a fun educational lecture while actively traumatizing him.

I’d sacrifice a few body parts—not mine, but semantics—to see another encounter like that between these two, featuring their wildly different attitudes toward humanity as a whole.

[suzukiblu]

Excerpt from the next chapter of "think pink", a.k.a "Kon meets pink kryptonite and decides to fuck Tim and his boyfriend about it":

Kon flies into Gotham as surreptitiously as possible, meaning "as thoroughly concealed by the smog and cloud cover as possible", which given the amount of smog and cloud cover usually works out pretty well for him. Today's definitely no less cloudy than usual, and he's landing in the marina in no time. Well–specifically, he's landing in a subtle little out-of-the-way corner of the marina that Tim's previously pointed out to him where his neighbors probably won't notice either a Superboy or a Wonder Girl coming down.

Probably.

Eh, it's whatever. If they notice, Kon'll handle it. Not like he's not used to lying to Gothamites about what the fuck he's doing in their city and why they shouldn't flip the Batsignal over it, after all.

Not that said lies always keep the Batsignal from getting flipped, but still. It's been like fifty-fifty.

Well, sixty-forty . . . ?

Maybe seventy-thirty.

Kon waits 'til nobody's immediately around and super-speeds his ass across the dock to Tim's houseboat. There's an unnecessary amount of security on the thing because Tim is a paranoid little freak and a half and every single Bat alive is literally made of trust issues, but he already knows there's nothing that'll clock him on the deck. Well, nothing aggressive, anyway.

This ain't his first Bat-rodeo, and all that.

He punches in the code for the lock on the door, and the code for the other lock on the door, and the code that'll keep the needles covered in neurotoxin from spraying into his face when he opens said door. They wouldn't actually hurt him, obviously, but Tim would get annoyed if he wasted them.

He seriously wonders how the guy was ever under the impression that Bernard didn't know he was a superhero, but he guesses it's possible Tim assumed his boytoy thought he was, like, somebody's evil henchman or a merc or something.

Or just literally insane. Whichever.

And it is Gotham.

The door swings open, Kon very carefully steps on the correct floorboard, and then he slips inside and heads down into the bowels of the boat, or whatever the inside of a houseboat is called. It's a little cluttered down here but not quite a mess, and Kon's been here as many times as Tim's been willing to let him come but still not nearly often enough.

He has an odd, random thought of just staying, for once, and isn't quite sure where it came from. Which–well, he's staying for the weekend at least, right? Assuming the world doesn't try to end again, anyway.

So maybe not so random.

Sometimes Kon really does want to just hang in Gotham with Tim until Batman runs him out of town, but he never pushes it that far. He doesn't want to deal with that fallout or with Tim coming up to him to tell him he's being too much or too needy or just fucking weird or . . .

Yeah. Well.

Kon cracks into Tim's fridge and steals a can of Zesti. He's a little more of a Soder guy, at least lately, but it tastes better coming out of Tim's fridge anyway. It makes him feel kind of like a normal guy who just goes over to his normal buddies' places to do normal things–whatever those are–and has normal permission to just rifle through their normal food and take whatever.

Technically Kon has permission, in the sense that Tim's never rigged the Zesti to explode in his face, but he's never actually explicitly asked. He wasn't really sure if that was one of those things that normal people ask or one of those things that normal people just do, and now it's a little late to check, so . . .

Kon's life experience has been fucking weird and wildly varied and stupidly fragmented and generally speaking he just begs forgiveness rather than ever ask permission. He's a grown-ass clone, he can do that.

Okay, he's technically only physiologically a grown-ass clone but also he's arguably over a thousand years old, or maybe more like four or five, so whatever. Being a superclone is weird and confusing and his point stands.

Kon sips his stolen Zesti and wanders around the boat, idly avoiding assorted traps and tripwires. He doesn't go into the bedroom, although it's kinda tempting to just go wait in there, possibly without the company of any of his clothes.

He wants to talk to Tim at least a bit before they go full long weekend on this situation, though, and also like . . . meet Bernard as an actual person and not just a voice over the phone or that one random disgustingly cute couple-selfie that Tim had very dorkily and shyly and grudgingly shared in the group chat the last time Bart had actually won a bet against him.

That stupid selfie was adorable. Kon had absolutely saved it and is not a weirdo who just randomly looks at it sometimes. There's a lot of stuff like that on his phone, alright, he's got a whole folder of "shit to look at when the world sucks". Most of it's Krypto being dumb and sweet or the team messing around and being silly together or stuff like that. The one disgustingly cute Tim and Bernard selfie is a mere footnote in that folder.

But it is in that folder.

Like . . . of course it is.

Kon thinks about pulling out his phone and looking at that picture again. He's aware it's a weird thought to be having right now, though, so he doesn't act on it. Kon operates on instinct a lot but he doesn't necessarily trust all his instincts, given his thoroughly fucked up socialization experience and random mind control triggers and the biological influence of a certain gene donor who shall not be named.

Kon hears a pair of accelerated heartbeats approach the boat and feels two people step onto and hurry across the deck above, one's footsteps significantly louder than the other's. He hears a lot of buttons get pushed. Then the door at the top of the stairs yanks open and he glances towards it. Either Tim or a very convincing evil doppelganger of Tim is standing framed in the doorway, looking very slightly flustered and just barely winded. Bernard is clustered up behind him and laughing, and much more winded himself.

Well, that's flattering.

"Hey there," Kon says, and grins up at them.

"We need to establish boundaries, hard no's, and safewords," Tim says immediately, absolute freak that he is. Kon is not even slightly surprised.

"God, you really do just look like that, huh," Bernard marvels, his eyebrows shooting up. He's even cuter when he's not being a cell phone pic, and especially cuter when Kon's being gay. Unsurprisingly, Kon figures. "I always assumed a whole lot of really skilled Photoshop was involved in you. Or at least a whole lot of real good makeup and real precise angles."

"He's annoyingly photogenic, actually, you don't even have to try to make him look good," Tim informs him resignedly. "So you can imagine how he looks when you do try."

"That's a terrifying thought, actually," Bernard says approvingly.

"Safewords, huh?" Kon says as he sets aside his mostly-empty Zesti, not even pretending not to be preening under the compliments. So he's easy; at least he's self-aware. "That sounds promising."

"You were talking about some guy putting you in a collar and keeping you as a pet," Tim says flatly. "We definitely need safewords, I might get carried away."

"Promises, promises," Kon hums, tucking his hands into his jacket pockets and sauntering towards the bottom of the stairs with a wolfish grin that he may or may not have learned from an actual wolf. Like, just speaking of certain beast-men that he's known and all. "I told you, I was feral then. You know I'll be a good boy for you, Rob."

"Ohhhhh we've sure gotten ourselves into something here, huh, babe," Bernard says with a delighted grin as Tim puts a hand over his face and just sort of . . . exhales in that one specific way that he does when it's all going to shit in a fight or on a mission and he just needs to steady himself for that one second before the doors blow in.

Kon likes that, he thinks.

He really likes that, actually.