#the answer is apparently “most of them”

[gaywineauntsstuff]

Sometimes I feel like us as the bat family fandom forget how starry eyed people get about Nightwing canonically.

Because with the exception of early era Tim most of the Batkids are like. lol that’s my loser older brother or some variation of yeah…he’s some guy I guess? He helps me with homework?

And Nightwing is the canonically a center of multiversal light.

When Heroes meet Nightwing they do the vigorous handshake and the “it’s an honor to meet you sir, I have heard so much about you oh my god”

There are so many character where they are literally shown giggling and kicking their feet whenever Nightwing talks to them.

Even the people who don’t have the celebrity level worship of him respect the hell out of him and call him as soon as they need help.

From raven to Starfire to Superman to Superboy to all or the flashes there is so much respect and awe given to this one dude.

And it is deserved

But imagine you are Damian Wayne and you’ve been working with what 90% of the people you’ve met (all bats) have been calling an embarrassment to your father’s legacy.

Your mother hates him and your Grandfather doesn’t feel that strongly about him.

The red hood calls him an embarrassment and a coward and he couldn’t even keep Red Robin from running away.

Your father tells him that he never should have been Batman

And you’ve worked with him and you know what you think everyone is full of shit about him and you and him the new Batman and Robin are the best no matter what anyone says.

And fuck it the fact he keeps going in a suit that everyone tells him he’s not good enough for is scratching something in your brain that you’re refusing to acknowledge because why would you feel that way? You are the circus freak have nothing in common (shut up)

And then you meet the justice league and all the extended teams.

And people are falling over themselves to listen to a word out of your brothers, your Batman’s mouth. They wait for a nod or headshake and dictate decades worth of planning on it.

Both Drake and Todd’s hero teams ask him for advice with or without their designated bats presence.

The man of steel asks for child rearing advice and wonder woman cracks a joke about a spar

Newer heroes whisper about him in the halls

He’s literally your favorite hero’s favorite hero

And it’s breaking Damian’s Brain

Because well… he kinda gets slapped around in Gotham. He’s the butt of half the jokes the other Batkids make and Dick just smiles and takes it.

The rogues have a bounty on nightwings ass and he gets leered at by goons, rogues, civilians and anti-hero’s alike and he doesn’t say anything.

He lets oracle crack jokes about a pretty face and having to do everything herself

Let’s Jason run the alley despite the fact that apparently he knows how to take it back

Apparently he’s had 12 people tailing Drake since Paris and despite being the man Ra’s Al Ghul calls detective has yet to notice. (Because you can’t tell me Dick was just magically at the right place to catch Tim falling to his death on coincidence)

And necessary to peace talks because he’s the best they have at deescalation

Like imagine you are a child who was raised to believe power is this obvious, all consuming thing. That the ones who control the board are visibly larger than life figures who fought their way to the top and cling to power by even the thinnest hangnail if they had to.

People who ignore simpler morals or an overall greater goal or good

And then you’re taken in by the man who whispers the correct answers into the larger than life figures ear.

Like I feel like that would have such an impact because Dick didn’t take power from anyone to reach his goals, it’s why his siblings don’t really defer to him unless in crisis.

Dick didn’t take power, no people just looked at him and decided he was the best option to give it to.

Everyone basically looked at this kid and went, yeah you’re the future of all heroism.

And if that dude can’t even get Bruce Wayne’s respect what chance does Damian Wayne have

[sunnylucy31]

Some asks I got for these in discord, reposting my answers here:

Pierce is on the spectrum, though she does a good job of masking most of the time (until you get her talking about her special interest which is stars and astrology (fun fact she can tell your star sign just by looking at you, very useful power)).

Frieda has BPD, and she handles it by not handling it (that is, she bottles up everything related to it, The Queen must not show weakness to subordinates). Her people don’t say her name and only refer to her as “the queen” out of respect, but a large part of her believes it’s because they disapprove of her (RSD will have you making logical leaps like that, it’s a bitch).

20. Frieda is often jealous of how tight knit her peoples’ bonds with each other are; as the queen she’s often excluded from that since everyone else puts her on a pedestal (as noted previously, they refer to her by title rather than name). More specifically she’s jealous of Hunter’s ongoing thing with Siren, as she’s been yearning for his attention for years and never received it (not in the way she wants, anyway). Again, she handles this by bottling it up, as the queen cannot be distracted by such trivial emotions. Good thing glass bottles are famously sturdy, this practice will surely continue to be a sound one.

If Maya is jealous of anything, it’s her peers’ ability to be content with tedium. With a perfect memory, she’s painfully aware of how much repetition the average day has, but her fellows don’t seem to notice, or if they do, don’t seem to care. Hell, some of them appear to find comfort in the routine, the normalcy. She attempts to shake this feeling off, but like everything else in her flawless recall, she can never entirely put it away.

25. My favorite aspects of both are going to be the angsty parts because apparently I’m a sadist.

For Frieda it’s the dehumanization. The Titans made her to be a living weapon. The gods branded her as an abomination for existing. And her own people turned her into a martyr, a Messiah figure that could prop up their fragile hopes. At no point does Frieda get to be Frieda; She’s Zero, or Priority Target One, or The Queen. Max will be the first person to treat her as human in a long time, and that’s going to be a profound moment for her that I really look forward to.

For Maya it’s going to be exploring all the detriments to a flawless memory and how the human psyche wasn’t meant to handle having that sort of ability. Imagine every mistake you’ve ever made, every abuse you’ve suffered, every pain you’ve felt, as crystal clear in your mind as the moment it happened. How do you heal? How do you move on? I do so love a good “your great power is really a curse” trope.

Frieda certainly wouldn’t think she could get away with it. Tenet Two of the demititans’ code is to do no willful harm against a fellow demititan, and to her mind she isn’t above the code. Her people on the other hand would feel differently. As I said above, they’ve turned her into their Messiah; all their hopes for survival rest in her. While it would be a deeply unsettling event for many, they’d find some way to justify it if only to keep her at the forefront, to keep her trying to save them.

4. Frieda’s innate instinct when scared is to freeze, followed by flee. Years of training have embedded a fight response in her, but part of her still feels the urge to run and hide when shit gets scary.

9. “Most gods throw dice, but Fate plays chess, and you don't find out til too late that he's been playing with two queens all along.” -Terry Pratchett

19. Rage makes Frieda’s calm and collected queenly mask fall away entirely. It’s the one emotion she’s never had much practice at containing, so when it comes out, it really comes out. Violence is basically a guarantee at that point.

Edgy/misc OC ask meme ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Send me a number and an OC, and I'll answer.

What memory would your OC rather just forget?

What's something about your OC that people wouldn't expect just from looking at them?

What is your OC's fatal flaw? Are they aware of this flaw?

When scared, does your OC fight, flee, freeze or fawn?

How far is your OC willing to go to get what they want?

How easily could your OC be convinced to do something that goes against their moral compass?

What's one way your OC has changed since you first came up with them?

Would your OC ostensibly be able to get away with murder?

Do you have a specific lyric or quote which you associate with your OC?

What's an AU that would be interesting to explore with your OC?

What is your OC's weapon of choice? Have they ever actually used it?

Is your OC self-destructive? In what ways?

If you met your OC, would the two of you get along?

How does your OC want to be seen by other characters?

Does your OC have a faceclaim? If so, who?

What is your OC's pain tolerance like?

What is the worst thing you have put your OC through story-wise?

Is your OC more cold and detached or up close and personal?

How does your OC behave when enraged?

Does your OC have a tendency to get jealous? If so, how does this manifest?

Does your OC have any illnesses or disorders? How do they handle it?

What character alignment would you consider your OC to be?

What emotion is the hardest for your OC to process? How about express?

What is an alternative life path your OC might have gone down? How different would their life be if they'd made those decisions?

What is your favorite thing about your OC?

[leighsartworks216]

The Goddess of the Moon

Zayne x gn!Reader

I will never stop writing Zayne in domestic situations apparently. Infold said they're married and I said say less

Warnings: fluff, domestic fluff, literal sleeping together, established relationship, cuddling, kissing

Word Count: 926

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Zayne is the most beautiful man you have ever seen, but he is never more beautiful than when he is sleeping.

Over the years you have known the doctor, it always seems like rest is a commodity not reserved for him. He’s always pushing through exhaustion. Even when he was a student, he’d barely rest, so focused on his goals and achieving them. So on the rare chance you do get to catch him sleeping, you learn to appreciate it.

The sun isn’t up yet. It won’t be for a while. His face is highlighted by the cool blue light of the moon. The cut of his cheekbone, the tip of his ear, the bump in his nose. It’s as though a goddess of the moon took centuries crafting him until he was just right, before releasing him off into the world, only to yearn to once more know the feeling of his face under her fingers.

You can’t blame her. Not when you get this chance to see the crease in his eyelids, the dip of his cupid’s bow, the soft round of his chin. Time and time again, like this moon goddess, you are tempted to touch him. To reach out and feel him, solid beneath your fingertips, just to confirm that he’s real and not merely an illusion. You felt quite bad about it early on in your relationship. Really, back then, figuring out the boundaries of physical affection was rough.

You can recall one day in particular. You took him to an ice cream shop. They’d just announced a new flavor you thought he’d enjoy, and he deserved a break after the week he had. You’d sat outside while you ate your frozen treats, chatting. Back then, there was still a gap of space between you. Unthinkable now. Anyway, a small smudge of the ice cream made its mark just below his lip. Without thinking, you’d reached out to wipe it away while he stared at you. You’d profusely apologized, rambling on to try explaining yourself, and handed him a napkin.

Later, after insisting on dropping you off at your then-apartment, he’d brushed a thumb along your cheek, thanking you quietly for the ice cream.

Your eyes trail to that spot just under his lip, where pink meets the cream of his skin. Emboldened by the light of the moon, you slip your hand from under the covers to wipe away an invisible smear of ice cream. His skin is soft and warm, with the telltale hint of fuzz starting to come in. You’d teased him before about keeping such a close shave. He’d teased you back about how much you seemed to enjoy helping him shave.

“You should be asleep.”

Sleepy hazel eyes watch you from under half-lids, flickering lazily across your face. You wonder what he sees. You wonder if the moonlight touches your face half as reverently as his. You wonder if he’s just as tempted to reach out and touch you as you are to touch him. Perhaps you get your answer when he slips his hand from the blankets to hold yours, eyes blinking slowly shut as he tilts his head on his pillow to kiss your fingers.

“What are you doing up?” His voice holds the quiet rasp of sleep. It is the embodiment of moonlight over freshly fallen snow.

“Admiring you.”

He opens his eyes again. His pretty lips quirk up in a smile. “There’s plenty of time for that in the morning,” he says, “after you’ve had a full night’s sleep.”

You sigh with playful annoyance. “What if I can’t wait that long?” You wriggle your hand from his grasp and cup his cheek. His eyes close immediately at the contact. He turns into your palm like it’s second nature to do so, sliding his hand to rest on the back of yours in much the same way. You brush your thumb over the moonbeam kissing his skin. “What if I just have to admire you right now?”

“Then I’ll have to turn you over to save you the temptation.”

Despite his threat, he instead reaches out to you, grabbing your waist and coaxing you into him. You gladly oblige, tucking yourself against his chest like a set of puzzle pieces. His bicep acts as your pillow as he tenderly rubs your back. You stubbornly refuse to hide your face in his neck just yet, though. Face to face and closer than ever, you rub your nose against his.

“You need to go to sleep,” he insists, but it’s a weak scolding at best. “We both do.”

You hum. “Then go to sleep. I’ll just stay up for a bit longer to really take you in.”

He chuckles quietly and pulls his face from yours. He cups your cheek and guides your face down into his neck, where he rests his head on top of yours. He rubs his cheek against you until he finds a comfortable spot. “In the morning.”

His thumb brushes lightly over your cheek. You sigh, hot breath fanning across his skin. “Fine,” you relent. Though, as you wrap your arms around his lean body and inhale the crisp scent of his body wash, you can feel sleep beginning to creep back into your mind, dulling your senses and sapping your energy. You kiss his neck in a chaste peck. “I love you.”

He kisses your head. “I love you, too.”

The goddess of the moon dances her fingers across you both, slowly retreating as the sun begins its ascent. 

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @deepzombieyouth @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip

[ssentimentals]

hello! can i request seungkwan with fluff prompt #27?? thank youuu 🫶🏼

hello, my dear! you can :) thank you for requesting! 💜 hopefully you will like it!

fluff prompt: 'is that my shirt?'

'boo seungkwan!' you roar the second door opens.

'i know, i'm sorry!' seungkwan shouts back, quickly taking off his shoes and running to your room. 'i'm sorry, my dear, so sorry!'

you already packed most of the stuff for this three days away trip, so when seungkwan enters, you greet him with a stern glare and arms crossed over your chest pose. he knows you hate being late. he knows it's the only thing that you absolutely cannot stand and because seungkwan is late, now you two are late for the meet up time with friends, who are also going to that away trip.

'everyone is waiting for us!' you huff, annoyed. 'thank god tour bus is late or we'd be in trouble!'

seungkwan has bunch of excuses on the tip of his tongue. the truth is he simply forgot at which time he's supposed to get off work, but on his way home he came up with many different reasons that can, hopefully, lessen your wrath. and he's about to let out at least one of them, but then he notices what you're wearing and his brain promptly shuts down. you're narrating what's in the bags, pointing at each one, when he interrupts you with: 'is that my shirt?'

you pause, blinking back at him. you look down at what you're wearing and nod, trying to hide your blush. 'yeah, why?'

seungkwan is not sure how to answer that question. is it too early in relationship to let you know that he goes a bit mental at seeing you in his clothes? that some possesive side of him, which apparently existed and just chose to not to show itself, is over the moon at this view? that he wants you to wear his shirts all the time starting from now? 'nothing-nothing,' seungkwan mumbles, standing up when you motion hm to go. 'uh- looks good on you. very pretty.'

'oh.' you pause again, watching as he takes all the bags, meaning to carry them. 'thank you. wait, i'll take one of the bags!'

'not happening,' seungkwan says strictly and quickly goes to the door, not wanting to bicker with you about this as well. you two already lost enough time as it is. 'hurry up, slow pants! we're late!'

'yeah and i wonder because of who!' you shout back, making him laugh. 'wait, let me quickly grab one more thing!'

that one more thing ends up being seungkwan's old warm coat and before he can say that he actually doesn't need one, you put it on yourself. oh. seungkwan swallows.

'good to go?' you ask, opening the door, having no idea how his brain is barely working because of you.

seungkwan nods and tries not to let out all of his thoughts show on his face: 'yeah, let's go.'

a/n: request your own here! <3 - nini

[dekariosclan]

While imagining Tav living with Gale in Waterdeep, I picture them finally being able to tease him without the constant worry about the orb. How easily would he get flustered, and what kind of teasing would get to him the most?

And!! What if Tav, in the middle of an intense conversation, slowly stepped closer, enough to make Gale think they might kiss, only to pause and say something completely unrelated and random, just to watch Gale scramble to compose himself?

Sorry for so many questions lol but the thought of a flustered Gale has me giggling and kicking my feet and I wanted to hear your thoughts on a very flustered Gale!!

This is super cute anon! Let’s start at the beginning:

How easily would he get flustered, and what kind of teasing would get to him the most?

The most difficult part of this is that Gale is essentially the ‘Schrödinger's Cat’ of being flustered. And what I mean by that is, based on his various interactions in the game, it seems as though he is capable of either being completely flustered or not flustered at all at any given time. Follow along with me here:

Gets flustered when he compliments Tav’s musk

Has no issue with complimenting Tav’s sweat/muscles and saying he’s turned on by them (in front of others, no less!)

Gets flustered at the thought of kissing or holding hands with Tav during the Weave scene

Doesn’t blink an eye at having full on freaky space sex with Tav in the sky

Gets flustered when Tav mentions, in front of Tara, enjoying seeing him naked

Smoothy says he will ‘indulge Tav when they get home’ if Tav makes the same naked comment without Tara around

Do you see the conundrum here anon?! He is very hard to pin down!

What I THINK we can conclude is that there are three very specific situations where Gale gets really flustered:

If he thinks he’s made a verbal fumble which could be taken poorly by Tav,

If he thinks he’s misread Tav’s intentions, and

If anything potentially embarrassing is said or done in front of his good friend/cat mom Tara

Now, to your prompt.

We’ll assume that Tav decides to approach Gale in his study, when he has his nose buried in a book.

“Gale?” Tav will innocently inquire.

“Yes, my love?” Will come the reply, warmth and welcome apparent in Gale’s voice, though his eyes never leave the page.

Tav, moving closer, will untie the top laces of their tunic. “I was hoping you might…help me with something.”

“Of course, dearest. Do you require my physical presence for assistance, or is it just a matter of—” Upon raising his head, Gale will find Tav standing directly in front of his desk, dressed in a rather…provocative manner.

“—oh.”

Gale will, for a moment, be completely at a loss for words—but he’ll pull himself together quickly. “—ah. Forgive me, I ah—lost my train of thought.” He’ll rise from his desk with an apologetic smile. “How may I be of service, my love?”

“Well—there’s a problem with our bed, darling,” Tav will say, smiling coyly, as they lean over the desk to bring their face closer to Gale’s.

“Our—our bed? Why, it was fine this morning…whatever could have—”

“The problem is you aren’t in it.”

Gale’s mouth will open and shut, silently. Then he’ll audibly gulp, clear his throat, and say, “I see.” A smile will begin at the corner of his lips as Tav leans in closer, and his gaze will dip to Tav’s mouth for half a second before returning to their eyes.

“So to answer your previous question,” Tav will say in a hushed, husky tone, their mouth just a hair’s breath from Gale’s, “yes indeed, I will require your ‘physical presence’ for ‘assistance.’”

“Well,” Gale will chuckle, “If you insist, I might be persuaded to leave my work behind…for a little while…”

And as Gale leans forward, his lips parting, his eyelids fluttering shut, Tav will lean back and say: “…but first, can you please help me in the kitchen? There are several spices that I’m in need of for a recipe, but you have them organized in such a manner that I cannot seem to locate them.”

The result of this will be a full ten seconds of Gale attempting to recover his composure.

From blinking his eyes open, to looking completely puzzled, to stuttering: “ah—yes, well—I suppose…” while sheepishly rubbing his hands together, to finally tilting his head and looking at Tav quizzically.

“Did I—did I say something wrong, my love? I…I rather thought we were going to, well…make love in the bedroom…”

Then, Tav will gently laugh, and lean forward to give Gale a thorough kiss, ending with their hands cupping his face as they smile lovingly at him.

“We will darling, but first I want you to have your way with me in the kitchen. On the counter, preferably. I was only teasing you about the spices.”

“Oh!” Gale’s eyes will widen with delight. “Oh, yes of course! Ah-ha, very well.” He’ll raise an eyebrow and smirk. “Then, let us proceed to add some spice to the kitchen, shall we?”

And so they shall—though I’m sad to say that Gale’s being flustered is not done, as they will get an unannounced visitor shortly thereafter:

“Yoo-hoo! Mister Dekariooos! Is that you making all the ruckus in the kitchen?”

“OH, GOOD HEAVENS! NOT NOW TARA! SHOO!”

[currentfandomkick]

Everyone thank @harvestandhearth for this ^^

Heads up, i’m going with intersex danny as ectoplasm exposure and presumed afab until he was able to clarify which gender he was (toddler) and chose his own name as Danny for this. Tim is still a nicu baby, and the two were presumed fraternal twins until a lot later.

And possible trigger warning, while not in Danny’s POV talking about what vlad did with the clones does trigger an episode to a degree, but this is all third POV with it being others’ observing Danny trying to ground himself after a stressor triggered something.

And as a personal headcannon, since Danny can turn parts of himself intangible, a nervous stim for him when he cant remove himself and go where he feels safe is to pull at his arteries or nerves—never managing it but passing through them as a target is soothing as its a tiny challenge, repetitive, and doesn’t hurt him but he can feel it happening so it helps ground himself after a trigger.

Timothy Jackson Drake nee Fenton pt2

Cyborg had two options with the news Red Robin and Phantom were twins: update the League files and let the paranoid bastards monitoring them find out that way, or telling them.

He did have a front row seat to the Dick and Kori’s disaster era many of them blame Dick for.

He updates Phantom and Red Robin’s files, links them as “twins raised apart geographically, and very attached emotionally” and let the cards fall where they may.

If Dick wanted to bring drama to the titans way back when, he can discover batfam drama on bis own time and away from Cyborg this time.

—

Tim was getting ready for patrol after his Call with Jazz and Dani. Danny crashed his pre-patrol routine to looking over possible redesigns from ghost fashionistas on a call.

The hooded cloak concept is popular and growing on Tim.

Apparently giving him a dragon as his callsign was also popular.

He was liking some of redesigns as different birds. Rook’s and Cardinal having a functional glider built in. Someone with the call mabychan didnt go too far off his current look, and it was possible to add the flight functions. The aesthetic addition of gold or yellow onto the suit proper rather than just his gear was interesting enough to explore later.

Danny continued to advocate for Tim playing with ecto-infused tech to be less trackable and was ignoring the very fact ecto signatures are very trackable and are transferable to people.

He was debating the winged cape-hood combo when his work phone kept going off.

“So, cutting this early again?”

“They can wait. Now, do you think maby could mix the hood and wing cape into her design? Like, my hair is wrong but it’s not far off from what i was going for, i think these two,” Tim grabbed his favorite Rook and Cardinal designs and lifted them to show Danny, “are a good reference for how i want the glider part to work.”

“I’ll contact her and see what she says,” Danny raised an eyebrow as his work phone began to flash red as it kept going off. “You gonna answer that or…”

“They’ll live, i’m not on the clock yet, and they interrupted my cases so many times this week with these stupid team building exercises. Like, hoe, i have a life outside of my two jobs, shut the fuck up and let me live!”

“You sure they aren’t a johnny-skulker hybrid?”

“Positive. They don’t hunt me for my pelt. Most of the time—Hood and mini Robin might if they have a mental break again.”

“Why have i not kidnapped you home sooner?”

“You respect my boundaries and are eviler for doing so.”

“Clearly, my evil-self solo-ed the Justice League and affiliates.”

“I’m still certain if i was alive, i would have beat evil you’s ass.”

“Dipshit, i would not have gone evil i would be a shaky chihuahua following your ass everywhere if any of my idiots didnt die in that accident.”

“Fair. So, i get Val, Anita, bart, Kon will try but he may run late with chores at the Kent’s, Cassie is coming, and against the odds you get to face an olympic archer too!”

“Oh my god, you guys could stand a chance if Dad’s aim doesn’t obliterate your points. How did you get Cissie to agree?”

“I told her Greta’s on your team and reminded her they were still tied for who was winning a bet way back when. Then called her a dick for deserting us in our time of need.”

“At least i don’t have to worry Slobo.”

“He’s on kiddo duty while we play.”

“So strategic sabotage.”

“You know me so well.”

“Evil, evil bastard brother!”

“Don’t talk about our mom like that.”

“I was talking about Aunt Janet.”

“Never mind, carry on.”

“Nah, but your phone is annoying me so—“ Danny shifted and Phantom burst out of his screen. “Ancients that sucked!”

Tim rolled his eyes as Danny bemoaned his latest fire walls.

“Use real fire ants next time, Ancients Damnit!”

“No.”

Danny snagged his phone as he reloaded his smoke pellets. “Now what does—holy shit. Did you not tell them you’re co-workers?”

“It was obvious—why do they think I turned down the family dinner invites unless Steph was there? I need bestie backup to handle their shit off hours.”

“Oh my god, you didn’t. They think you’re a Bat when you’re a fucking Fenton. Holy shit!”

“I never hid it,” Tim defended, “They’re detectives, they dan detect.”

Danny began wheezing, curled around the phone and cackling.

“…did B send anything yet?”

Danny shakily passed the phone. Tim ignored the group chat and looked to his private one with Bruce and Alfred.

“Cave. Now.”

“I was unaware of your living relatives Master Timothy. Do invite them over, we have much to discuss. From, Alfred Pennyworth”

Tim groaned, moving to put the last of gear in place.

“I was invited by your co-parent, I’m coming.”

“Chaos gremlin.” He waved Danny to follow him into the elevator, away from his (relatively) civilian quarters.

“You say that like you aren’t one too.”

“I hide it better, when it matters,” Tim shrugged. “Blame Aunt Janet’s social chameleon lessons.”

“Deceiver of all,” Danny narrated with the utmost dramatics as they exited the elevator. “be evil with your whole chest or be the Good Twin!”

“Fuck that. Now get your ass in gear, you’re riding Bitch.”

“Hey, if guys at school are going to keep calling me Fentonia, I believe I can say you gotta stop calling it that. Clearly I’m the tagalong and a snack.”

“Nope,” Tim readied Red Bird. “You smell like a bitch and look like shit. Why Val likes you, the world may never know.”

“Fuck you. And we share a face!” Danny got on behind him, ignoring the offered helmet.

“I wear it better and dont have baby fat. Safety first lab accident.”

“You look like that brainless dipshit from Oz, but boned,” Danny snapped as he put on the helmet and waiting for Tim to go.

“At least when I crossdress, it’s not a question of which gender I’m presenting as,” Tim grumbled as they sped out.

“Eat a cock, you know they thought i was a girl for a year.”

“I mean—“ Tim took a sharp turn out of the garage and merged into Gotham’s traffic .

“Abort, no sex stories from my twin this early—.”

“It’s 9 at night mostly ghostly.”

“—And did you forget i ate your fraternal twin in the womb and we became identical in a case of severe Gray’s Anatomy BS?”

“Look, the Nicu was A Lot, and with how much medical mystery shit our family has going on, can you blame me?”

“Yep. Medical mystery, magical mystery, family curse and Fenton Luck must be kept

Separate big brother, or are you getting sennial in your old age?”

“Fuck off.”

“And once again, your 9 pm is my 4 am. I’m a witching hour girlie, Reddicus Robininous.” Danny snarked as they sped outside of Gotham City proper into the Rich Bitch greenery and woods.

“I blame Pix,” Tim groaned.

“Beanie taught me that!”

“But Pix taught you to say it.”

“She did, she did.”

The ride to the Cave was quiet, Danny frowning at the lack of stars.

“Leave it.”

“But i can probably pull it out of the atmosphere.”

“And put it where?”

“… my chest?”

“Nope, no self experimentation without scientist supervision.”

“Don’t you count?”

“I am a detective, combatant, chemist and hacker. I am not a scientist.”

“Sounds fake.”

“You’re fake.”

“I’m ghostly, and a member of the cloned kids club.”

“You ate my twin in the womb.”

“So i get to be evil!”

“No. I’m evil; I’m a ceo and help a lot of coverups as a vigilante for other vigilantes and a handful of anti-heroes.”

“Evil me took out your not-son and his friends!” Danny argued.

“Please, three separate evil me’s managed that, and came back to gloat.”

“Well, those three ceased to exist or evil last i checked. My evil me’s in therapy and still murdery.”

“I know—how’s Dan doing and are we going with older brother cover or cousin like Dani?”

“His call, and he’s… unpacking still.”

“Eh-hem,” Alfred interrupted as Tim parked Red Bird. “I believe we need to have a family meeting are your other family members joining, excusing this Dan?”

“No, they don’t know this is happening,” Tim answered.

“That,” Danny looked around at the… trophy wing(?) of the cave. “Aannnd Jazz would enjoy psychoanalyzing you all too much. So, is this a ‘check all the info for verification cautionary tale’ or something else?” He asked as he turned his attention back to the bat-butler. Batler(?)

“Something else, Master Daniel.”

“Just Danny. I chose it, I get to keep it in all contexts.”

Alfred moved to open his mouth.

“Only one to not call him that made him an unwilling teen parent,” Tim interjected before Alfred could start up on formalities.

Alfred narrowed his eyes. “Has this individual been taken care of?”

Tim and Danny shared a look. “Working on it,” Tim answered, rubbing the inside of Danny wrist before he could start tugging his arteries or nerves as a stress stim.

Alfred looked between them. “Anything else i should be aware of Master Danny?”

“Just keep toast away from me, and I’m not a solid foods person—can do solid food in shake form just uh, jaw tends to freeze and lock at random since my powers came in.”

Alfred hummed in response to that. “Soft solids are acceptable, yes?”

Danny slowly nodded his head, and moved his hand to the thermos on his hip.

Tim squarely kept Danny on the side he could better block the cameras from as they followed Alfred up.

“I made a batch of chocolate salted caramel chip oatmeal cookies. I will bring you a more drinkable version of the batter with a strawberry smoothie on the side. Master Tim, your usual will be beside your serving.”

Tim grunted in response, checking his phone and keeping a steady hand on his twin’s pulse. Which was far too fast for Danny’s normal… trying to appease Tim’s co-workers by masking the liminality, or stress response to casually outing himself or to Tim dropping the Vlad forced cloning thing (Tim’s helped him with so, so many nightmares of watching his clones die. The fact one was identical to Rim didn’t help. Tim being present and alive did).

Danny smiled at him. Mask smile—so hiding Phantom’s impact or ignoring the trauma trigger he pulled. Yep, Tim is winning the evil twin contest for the wrong reasons again.

Alfred turned to see Tim analyzing his twin, who was more flushed in his face than before… he’d have to inform the Wayne clan to gentle their interrogation regarding Master Danny’s existence. Master Tim’s explanation helped explain the name situation, however it could have been done without triggering the poor boy. Had Master Tim given him a moment, he would have found the explanation unnecessary.

The twins stalled at the threshold of the meeting room.

Tim waved at Stephanie, Cass and Barbra sitting in the same general area together as he moved further in front of Danny and switched which hand was grounding him and monitoring his pulse. Stephanie was gleeful to say the least, Cass unfazed and Barbra giving him a too knowing wave back.

Dick was sitting between Damian and Bruce, the three dissecting every move Tim and Danny made. Tim made sure to shield him as much as he could from the imminent psychological warfare Bruce was planning. Damian would likely aim for any potential insecurity once he got too aggravated with everything, and was likely to say something that could set off Danny. He only really went through his firewalls instead of waiting for Tim to let him in when he was having a particularly nasty day and needed some twin time.

Tim couldn’t fathom what Dick’s plan was. The one he saw as his found older brother would laugh at him managing to fool everyone one on a loophole and tell him how to further the ruse. But the one who took up the cowl was different from the brother that mentored him and helped with everything from girls, leading a team and homework.

Duke and Jason were to the side. Jason looked morbidly amused while Duke seemed curious, so no worries on that end for Danny. Operation: ‘air out Batcorp’s laundry if they start shit’ was a go.

—

Okay next round i will want an idea of how you want batfam members to respond to the fact Tim ‘hid’ his family from them—as that’s how these chuckleheads are entering this meeting.

Tim’s got receipts and Danny is there mostly to divide Tim’s attention and watch the show.

Tim Drake’s Coworkers (ft. The Fenton Family)

It’s not that Tim doesn’t like the Batfamily. He tolerates them just fine. Damian is great for sparring (if you like sparring with a tiny murder machine), and Jason’s brand of dark humor isn’t too bad once you get used to it. Dick’s a bit too much sometimes, but overall? Fine. Totally fine.

But the thing is… they’re just his coworkers.

And it never really clicks for the Bats until Danny Phantom joins the Justice League and everything starts unraveling.

———

The revelation comes during a League meeting. They’re strategizing about some ghost-related chaos, and Danny floats into the Watchtower, bright and glowing.

“Oh, hey, Tim,” Danny greets casually, giving him a little wave.

Tim doesn’t even look up from his tablet. “Sup.”

Superman looks between them, confused. “…you two know each other?”

Danny grins. “yeah, he’s my brother.”

Dead silence.

“WHAT?!” Bruce’s bellow shakes the entire room.

Tim finally looks up, unfazed. “What? Did you think I just spawned into existence?”

“You have a brother?!” Clark sputters.

“Two siblings, actually,” Tim corrects, utterly nonchalant. “Danny’s the younger one. Jazz is the older one. She’s great. Super organized. Kept me alive in middle school.”

Bruce’s eye twitches. “Why—why am I only learning this now?”

Tim shrugs. “It didn’t seem relevant.”

“Relevant?” Diana repeats, incredulous. “You’re the brother of Danny Phantom and it’s not relevant?”

Danny, who’s been munching on some ectoplasm candy, jumps in: “Honestly, Tim’s always been kind of private about his personal life. We just figured it was his way of coping with the whole ‘raised-by-rich-neglectful-aunt’ thing.”

“Yeah, about that,” Tim interjects, glaring at Danny. “Thanks so much for dumping me with Aunt Janet, by the way.”

Danny shrugs sheepishly. “Mom and Dad panicked! They thought you’d get ghost-napped next!”

“Uh, correction: Aunt Janet left me to raise myself, so that plan was awesome.”

Bruce, trying to keep up, interrupts: “Hold on. Your parents left you with Janet Drake?”

“They didn’t know she sucked at raising kids,” Tim deadpans. “And to be fair, they did call. A lot. I just didn’t pick up.”

Jason, who has been cackling this entire time, leans forward. “Wait, wait, wait—so you’re telling me that the Replacement’s entire family is a bunch of ghost hunters?”

“Yup.” Danny pops the “p” with a grin.

“You’re kidding me,” Steph says, borderline hysterical.

Tim sighs, clearly over it. “Look, it’s not a big deal. Jazz keeps the parents in check, Danny handles the ghost stuff, and I… stay out of the way. It’s fine.”

“FINE?” Damian glares. “Drake, you’ve been fraternizing with ghost hunters while working with a vigilante group, and you think that’s fine?”

Tim raises an eyebrow. “Dami, chill. It’s not like it affects work. You’re my coworkers. They’re my family. Separate categories.”

Cue collective Batfamily malfunction.

———

Later, Danny is chilling in the Batcave, feet kicked up on the Batcomputer, chatting with Alfred. The rest of the Bats are still spiraling.

“Tim, we’ve lived together for years!” Dick exclaims, sounding genuinely hurt. “How are we only your coworkers?”

“You’re not my family,” Tim explains, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Danny and Jazz are my family. You guys are my teammates. It’s different.”

Jason throws his head back, laughing. “Oh my god, Replacement, you’re stone cold.”

“I’m not cold,” Tim argues. “I just don’t think we need to make it more complicated than it is. We work together. That’s enough.”

Meanwhile, Danny is wiping tears of laughter off his face. “Oh man. Jazz is gonna love this.”

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for Marina; Tucker is having a normal one. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Uh, should we be worried about all that back there?” New Ecto-Boo asks, looking skeptically back at the GIW agents they’ve already passed–and also looking really fucking hot, still, and on top of that being fucking easy about his flying in a way that Tucker usually only sees in the older and stronger ghosts and spirits–note to self–and definitely more graceful than Danny ever is, but also, like–heavier and more deliberate about it, somehow? Like, Danny flies like he’s in zero G and controlling his momentum with a bit of ecto-powered propulsion as he makes his way through the vacuum of the world. This guy flies like he’s moving the world around him; like he’s got it all in his grip and he’s just spun his destination right to him. 

Possibly he’s literally doing that, considering? That might actually be a thing, yeah, given the whole nature of weird ghost powers being weird ghost powers. 

Okay, yeah, Tucker apparently will be finding this situation hot. On top of how hot he already found it, will he be finding it hot. 

His ideal future ghoulfriend is a situation, at this point. 

“Yeah, no, it’s cool, they’re just seeing horrifying specters from another dimension,” he reassures Haunted Heartthrob, patting his–still wet and naked–chest again with his free hand. Said chest is also still kinda ecto-glisteny, but at the same time looks sort of, like, weirdly iridescent under the subtle green glow of the remaining ecto on it? Like, not full-on “so like are a few of the GIW scientists just reeeeeally into Twilight or what?” levels of it, but still, it’s definitely noticeable as a thing. 

Another note to self, Tucker thinks, and taps some observations into his PDA in coded shorthand. By which he mostly means “uses the most illegible font he has installed scaled down as tiiiiiny as it can get in a real light text color”, but same difference. 

Also much funnier to watch Vlad rant and curse about not being able to “decode”. Like so, so much funnier. 

He has literally never even tried changing the font, much less the text size. Tucker has no idea how the dude can be so smart and so stupid, but that’s kind of a specialty of Vlad’s at this point anyway. 

“Uh,” the Honey Pot Poltergeist says, slanting him a wary look. 

“Oh, I mean they’re seeing horrifying specters from another dimension in, like, a faked-by-my-superior-tech way, not like I cursed them to Lovecraftian insanity,” Tucker reassures him, wagging his PDA at him in clarification. “I just can’t get into that dude’s writing, for one. Also do you know what he named his fucking cat?” 

“Literal fucking hate speech that I have no desire to be repeating, last I heard,” Spectrally-Sexy/Just-Passed-The-Shitty-Person-Test snorts, making a face. 

“Correct answer, good job,” Tucker says approvingly. It wasn’t actually like, a trap or anything, but he was maybe testing the waters a little, sue him. Like, just checking for red flags early, that’s all. He’s not sure if the guy’s fully white or maybe, like, a little bit mixed with a bit of East Asian, he’s not an expert or whatever, but being white-passing mixed doesn’t rule out the possibility of red flags, so yeah. Or, like, being literally anything, admittedly, because some people are just fucking asshole. “Hey, hang a left at the next hallway, would you? Looking for a hot goth in a black crop top and a vegan leather miniskirt.” 

“So like plastic, you mean,” his new sweethaunt says dryly.

“Yeah the whole ‘you know ethically-sourced leather is actually better for the planet and less wasteful than pleather, right?’ thing was not a happy realization for her,” Tucker confirms.

[qwerty019283ytrewq]

Parental custod

✨️Imagine✨️

Max rolls his eyes when he sees Jack making his way towards him during the drivers parade.

Don't get him wrong. He's glad that there are so many rookies on the starting grid, but he would trade them all for one particular person. It doesn't help that Jack looks too much like Daniel, with his accent, a little hairstyle, and a big nose. The wrong nose, the wrong hair, the wrong Australian that Max wants to spend time with.

"Hi Max!" says Jack, with too much enthusiasm and an awkward smile. "You...Listen, I'm sorry to bother you, but could you help me?"

He looks like Max is his only and last option. He could have turned to anyone. Lewis would have helped him for sure, and so would Fernando, but Jack came to Max. Max sighs, apparently not so well hiding his fatigue and unwillingness to help the Australian because Jack's facial expressions change. Now he looks like a scared kid in a mall who turned to a security because he got lost.

"Ya...I didn't want to bother you, but... Daniel doesn't answer my calls, and it seems that I write to him too much..."

Yes, he really is a lost child... a child whose "father" did not come to his first competition. Max's thoughts go back to the days when he himself followed Daniel, looking for every opportunity to talk to him, touch him. He was teased, called a "duckling," but Max was too blinded by this sunny man to somehow protect himself from attacks.

"How can I help you?"

✨️✨️✨️

Max returns to his room after the race. He collapsed on the sofa and hoped to sit in silence for a couple of minutes before having to return to the circus, but the silence was broken by the ringing of his phone. After seeing the caller's name, he can't ignore it.

"Your 'son'..." - Max puts emphasis on the word 'son' - "...the whole parade of drivers terrorized me." He says before Daniel has time to greet him.

"Come on, you look cute in all these photos," Max hears him smirking, but there's something else to it. Max doesn't give himself time to think about it. "And judging by the comments, you're his "dad." Have you called Seb yet? Did he give you a couple of tips for a novice grid dad? I'm sure he knows a couple of great places that serve the best ice cream after a crappy race."

Max blames fatigue after the race and jet lag for his next words.

"We could share custody of Jack, you know? In the end, yes, he has your nose, but the hair is definitely mine."

There is a silence that Max dreamed of, but which he now hates. He hears Daniel's short laugh, wants to know what's in his head right now, hates not hearing him, hates not seeing him most of all.

"Um...you know...such issues are worth discussing personally. Maybe...Maybe you'll come to my farm and we'll... distribute our parental responsibilities?"

"Just buy a normal beer, I won't drink that donkey urine anymore."

"Come on, it can't be worse than sweaty champagne from a shoe."

[sgiandubh]

Just one more question then. T was already a partner/director in two of C's companies, three if you count the Irish one. This movement for the others happened immediately after the end, for good, of the OL recordings. Of course, there are still publicity commitments, but why choose this moment to bring him on board? In fact, two questions then: Is Cait part of any of T's other companies? I imagine that some are still functional, since he keeps them active. Thank you for your time

Dear Two Questions Anon,

Before anything else: there is not one, but two Irish companies. I am formal on this point and I have discussed it before. Well, sort of -lest you would think I am foolish enough to favor cheap bravery and take inconsiderate risks. I don't know if you already figured it out, I am always waiting for the shite to hit the fan across the street: these people are very predictable and it never disappoints, because even if they do have the paperwork (no NASA secrets, either), they have no clue about the proper way to understand and interpret what they read and always get in a vortex of sorts. It is not this blogger's editorial choice to bring these topics forth.

Your first question is a resounding and very rhetorical why. Your guess is as good as mine, Anon and I really do believe it would be wiser not to push your luck. While I do have a point, I feel you are clever enough to think by yourself, too.

Regarding the second question, as per the Companies' House available public documents, there is one Anthony Gerard McGill and one Anthony McGill. Both are, in fact, the same person. I am mercifully not going to discuss Gerard's string of failed entrepreneurial adventures.

The First Siamese Twin, Anthony Gerard McGill currently holds 5 different company officer appointments. If you take away the three companies that are owned in reality by Mrs. CMB only (see my recent posts on the Persons with Significant Control in a company), you will find two more companies. Both are breathing clones of the Business Ghosts of Christmases Past:

Who runs the shop?

Ma:

'Imself:

Da:

Bro (🦷):

Most importantly, perhaps: who really owns the shop?

Surprise 😮?

Family business. I see no trace of C, here. Which really, is perhaps wiser: the Firm is not exactly doing great.

Fair enough. Onwards to...

'Confirmation statement overdue'...oh, the nostalgia...

Who runs the shop (oh, well - 'runs')?

Ma & 'Imself only:

Where on Earth is Caitriona Sandiego? Well, apparently not in Bristol.

Who owns the shop?

'Imself:

Again, nothing to write home about:

The Second Siamese Twin, Anthony McGill is perhaps less active: only one appointment.

Who runs the shop?

Again, Ma and 'Imself:

Who owns the shop?

No C here, either. Not even remotely. That being said, the bulk of his visible, traceable funds is placed here:

Therefore, the answer to your second question is no. Make of it what you wish, Anon. Thank you for your patience and civility.

[kittenshift-17]

Drabble prompt: I’ve been waiting for you, all these years

The buzz of a notification dropping in pulled him from sleep like it did every morning, and Stiles groaned into his pillow, even though this one little ritual was usually the highlight of his day. Grumbling and snuffling a bit, he snaked a hand from under the covers to grab his phone from the nightstand.

Sourwolf: .jpeg

Stiles's sleepy eyes crinkled happily, and his heart skipped a beat even as he opened the message to look at today's photo. A beautiful view of endless mountains and pine trees fills the screen, the sun just beginning to peep over the peak in the distance, bathing the forest in a soft golden glow. It was breathtaking just captured on film, so he can only imagine how much more beautiful it must be in person for Derek, wherever he was, capturing the view from his vantage point after what Stiles had come to believe were his early morning runs.

They didn't trade much other information except the picture Derek took every morning to fire off to Stiles. A proof of life, Stiles knew. Something he once almost broke his hand over by punching Derek's chest in frustration after hunting him down during his FBI internship training when the wolf had randomly appeared amid a crime, once again wanted for murder while Stiles had had no idea if he was even alive after he'd disappeared with Cora almost a year beforehand.

Stiles remembered how furious he'd been every day of that internship, sweet-talking, lying, badgering, and outright bulldozing his way into the heart of the case to find Derek and find a way to warn the idiot werewolf he was on the FBI most wanted list. Again. He remembered how he'd literally tackled Derek - easier said than done, but that was how damn angry he'd been when he finally caught up to him - and how Derek had rolled with the tackle, literally, and pinned Stiles to the floor of an abandoned warehouse and snarled in his face, blue eyes flashing before he recognized him.

It had taken a lot of threatening, browbeating, and finger-pointing at Derek while he ranted for the werewolf to realize Stiles had been afraid he'd been killed or would be caught and arrested before Stiles had demanded Derek give him his new number and answer his damn phone, and always send him a new number if he changed it again, and to damn well prove to Stiles every day that he was alive because he'd been worrying himself sick for months.

Derek had settled for proof-of-life pictures since he still abhorred words, apparently. And every day, for months and months after that, Derek had sent him a selfie, eyes always flared to hide his face lest Stiles be somehow found out by the FBI for associating with him. Stiles had loved and hated the selfie because he wanted more! He wanted a picture of Derek where he could see that smug, handsome, grumpy face and those mesmerizing green-grey-blue eyes.

It had come in handy a few times, given Derek's unfortunate habit of getting captured by hunters, but Stiles was an expert at stealing back his favorite werewolf by now, and after the first two times when Stiles rescued him within a day or two of him disappearing - denoted by the lack of morning picture - Derek had gotten used to the idea of sending them without being such an ass about it.

These days, almost three years later, pictures were usually much more random than selfies. A breathtaking view like this. Sometimes, there are pictures of dawn in the desert and a close-up of a cactus. Sometimes by the sea, zoomed in on a lump of seaweed, a broken shell, or once, a dead jellyfish. Sometimes, he encountered other live animals and sent pictures of those, like a porcupine, a red fox, and a barn owl. Once, he randomly a Ruby red Jeep in the middle of the day, too, but hadn't given any context.

Humming, Stiles scrolled up in the thread of messages, looking over the recent ones. Mostly forest, which suggested Derek was in the wilderness, far from civilization, and had been for a while. Stiles didn’t reply much anymore. He used to always say good morning and ask Derek where he was, what he was doing, and when he might visit next, but replies from the wolf that wasn't the daily proof of life pictures were few and far between unless it was to warn him about some supernatural disturbance or vague, empty words about his location or wellbeing. Once, he'd wished Stiles a happy birthday. But never anything that encouraged chit-chat. Over the years, Stiles had stopped replying, mostly, other than occasional check-ins, comments on charming views, and once when he'd been on a night out at uni after an unpleasant break-up, a pitiful voicemail message telling Derek he really missed his stupid grumpy sourwolf face and wished he'd visit because he wanted a hug.

He hadn't gotten a visit or a hug, but Derek had sent him a grumpy-faced selfie without eye flare ruining the shot, and Stiles had cried and sent him a teary voice note telling the werewolf he loved his stupidly expressive eyebrows.

Today, a pang of missing the werewolf clanged through him as he drank in the image, and without really thinking too much about it, Stiles angled the phone to take a sleepy selfie, all doe-eyed and rumpled, his hair a mess, his mole-dotted skin pale where he laid in his bed in his Dad's house in Beacon Hills.

Stiles: .jpeg... Wish you were here, sourwolf 🐺. I miss you 😔

He sent it off before he could think about it too hard. Yawning, Stiles put his phone down and rolled over, planning on going back to sleep, but before he could, his phone buzzed again, and Stiles grumbled, thinking about ignoring it.

Sourwolf: Are you in Beacon Hills?

Stiles blinked because Derek usually only responded when he was in trouble.

Stiles: Yeah. College is finally over, so I came home.... no idea what I'm going to do with the rest of my life 🤣😅😨😰😭

He was almost asleep again, thinking Derek wouldn't reply when his phone buzzed insistently on his chest. A call. Stiles definitely considered ignoring it since Derek hadn't called him since the last time a hunter had been about to snatch him, blurting his coordinates to Stiles and the hunter's family name before the growling started at the line went dead. Stiles was in no mood to talk when he could be asleep, especially since a call was more likely to be his persistent ex, whom he wanted nothing more to do with.

Checking anyway, he dropped the phone on his face and flailed when he saw it was Derek calling.

"Derek?" Stiles gasped into the phone. "Oh my god, are you about to be snatched again? Where are you? I can save your ass. Again."

A beat of silence came down the line but for the whisper of wind in the pines and the occasional chirp of a bird.

"Did I miss your graduation?" Derek's low, rough voice slides into his ear, and involuntarily, Stiles’s eyes slid closed, his back arching at the sound of it.

"Ummm, yeah," Stiles managed past the unexpected visceral reaction. "It was last week. I didn't tell you since I didn't think you'd care... Dad came to see me in my silly gown and cap."

Silence came from the other end of the phone.

"You okay, Sourwolf?" Stiles checked. "You need my help?"

"How long will you be in Beacon Hills?" Derek asked, ignoring the question.

"I dunno. Forever, probably. Dad's here. My degree is... well, I can set up something online from here to make money, I guess."

If he was being honest with himself, his computer programming degree wouldn't serve him too well, career-wise. Still, he hadn't known what else to do after being kicked out of the FBI Academy when his involvement in Derek's case was called into question after he'd helped the werewolf escape justice (read: been shot in the toe and carried to safety by a disguised Derek whom he'd later gotten exonerated).

"You went home?"

"Nowhere else to go," Stiles defended since college and all the supernatural shit had been a great way to dismantle the pack and send his friends scattering to the wind, so he hadn't heard from any of them in months. Years! "Dad will always be here, and he's not getting any younger - and needs me to bully him into eating healthy again because he's been cheating on his diet while I've been at school, the idiot - and I don't mind it here. After New York, it's... peaceful."

More silence stretched on the other end of the phone but for Derek's soft breathing. Stiles just breathed with him, not wanting to yap too much lest Derek hang up to shut him up.

"You'll stay?" Derek asked quietly.

Stiles hummed.

"I think so. Someone needs to keep my dad in line. And... well, the pack's scattered to the wind, and everyone's left except Parrish. I figure someone should stay and keep an eye on things. Wouldn't want evil finding another foothold here, you know? I went by the nemeton yesterday... it's started to grow again now that the evil of the nogitsune spirit isn't poisoning it anymore."

Derek hummed a curious sound, more canine than human, but Stiles continued.

There's a sapling sprouted from the center of the stump, almost as tall as I am, with leaves and branches all over it," he confided. "It felt... right. The tree, I mean. The glade. It felt magical, but the good kind, you know what I mean? I want to protect it and make sure nothing else comes along to corrupt it again. I dunno why, but... feels like something I need to do."

A rumble of sound came through the phone at his words, soft and almost contented.

"Are you purring, big guy?" Stiles teased suspiciously.

"No," Derek grunted, but Stiles was pretty sure he was lying.

"Uh huh," Stiles laughed before a yawn escaped him as he stretched out, burrowing back into his pillow with a satisfied groan. "You're totally purring like a big cat instead of a grumpy wolf. I'm onto you."

"Are you still in bed?" Derek changed the subject.

"Mmm," Stiles hummed sleepily. "I'm an unemployed college graduate now. I'm allowed to sleep in."

Derek scoffed wordlessly, and Stiles laughed softly.

"Lazy bones," Derek accused softly. "I've already been on a ten mile run."

"If you went on four paws, it doesn't count," Stiles huffed.

"It does."

"Nope. Wolves are designed to run miles and miles. That's cheating."

"I'm a wolf, so it's my nature, ergo, not cheating," Derek argued.

"Ergo? You did not just say 'ergo', oh my god, dude. Only nerds even know that word. You can't just use it in a sentence."

"You know it," Derek pointed out. "Nerd."

Stiles gasped, pretending to be scandalized before he dissolved into sleepy giggles because these were more words than they'd traded in years, and Stilss might actually be having a delightful dream.

"God, I miss you," Stiles breathed, shaking his head. "Miss riding around in my Jeep with you being all serious and grumpy and bitchy at me while we tried to save the world, your eyebrows telling me off for talking too much... Snarky sourwolf."

"I was never bitchy," Derek huffed indignantly.

"So bitchy!"

Derek growled at him, but Stiles could hear him smiling.

"Hmm. This is a nice dream," Stiles hummed happily.

"Yeah?"

"Mmm," Stiles murmured, already beginning to drift off. "Missed your voice, Der. Miss your face. Mmm, eyebrows..."

He trailed off, falling asleep on the phone, so he didn't hear Derek's little fond laugh or hear him say, "I miss you too."

The next day, the photo Derek sent him was a selfie. A shirtless one taken on a different mountain with the sun rising behind him, casting his bared skin gleaming gold, and Stiles might've groaned and rutted against the bedsheets at how mouthwateringly good he looked. He sent back another sleep-rumpled one. This time, his cheeks flushed pink after stroking himself to completion.

They fell back to the same routine, but all of Derek's new pictures were selfies, almost all of them shirtless, and Stiles couldn’t resist sending some back, also shirtless, still in bed, often freshly sated.

Until one morning, almost two weeks later, his phone buzzed, waking him, and Stiles fumbled for it, eager to see his newest gift. Only today's picture wasn't a selfie. It was a picture of a dark-haired man sprawled in a familiar bed, mouth open in sleep, a familiar constellation of moles on his cheek highlighted by a kiss of dawn sunlight through his open bedroom window. Stiles blinked in confusion at the image of himself while his brain fired up before realization hit, and he shouted, scrambling upright as his eyes shot to the corner of the room the picture had been taken from.

Derek Hale loomed in the corner behind the bedroom door like the absolute creeper wolf he was, and Stiles bleated in surprise even as he threw off the covers and surged to his feet.

"Derek!?" He exclaimed, stumbling because mornings were hard and gravity was a cruel mistress, even as he lurched across the room and threw himself at Derek without a second thought.

Derek caught him against his chest, squeezing him tightly when Stiles clung to him.

"You're here!" Stiles exclaimed excitedly. "Like, holy crap, you're actually here! This is so cool! I haven't seen you in so long! You came home!"

"So did you," Derek pointed out.

"Oh my god, you're really here! Hi!"

Derek laughed into his shoulder. "Hello, Stiles."

"This is so awesome! It's so good to see you!"

In his enthusiasm, Stiles lifted Derek right off his feet and gave him a happy little shake, squeezing him fiercely. Derek growled a little at that, but Stiles didn't let it stop him while he bounced a bit until Derek wriggled to be put down and dragged his stubble cheek across the sensitive skin of Stiles's neck before nuzzling into him even more, cheeks, chin, nose and forehead all scraping across his bare neck and shoulder where he stood shirtless.

Scenting him, Stiles realized happily. Scenting him like a wolf would at the return of a packmate after some time apart.

"I can't believe you're actually here," Stiles prattled, submitting to being scented and even returning the actions, rubbing himself all over Derek while he clung to him. "How long are you staying? When did you get here? I have so much to tell you, oh my god."

Derek let Stiles prattle on about the town, his dad, the growth of the nemeton, and what he'd been doing to try and rustle up some business to make use of his degree - more challenging than he'd thought; it turned out. And while he prattled, Derek kept scenting him, rubbing his face all over him before he began to mouth along the cut of Stiles's jaw, his teeth just a little sharper than human but not enough to cut into him when he placed gentle bites all along his jaw and up to his ear, where he snuffled into him before biting the lobe.

"Holy fuck, dude, you gotta stop that before you start something you can't finish," Stiles warned because he'd already been sporting morning wood, but the attention had him throbbing with need. Hey, it wasn't Stiles's fault he had super sensitive ears and hadn't been laid in a while.

Derek's hands, which had found their way to his hips, squeezed firmly.

"Who says I can't finish it?" he breathed in Stiles's ear, and Stiles might actually blow in his boxers, people.

"Oh my god," he whined, though he jerked in surprise when there was a rap on his door before it opened, and his dad, sleepy and in his pajamas, wandered in.

"Stiles? Are you okay, bud? I heard you shout... aw, hell. Derek Hale?"

"Hello, Sheriff," Derek greeted, releasing Stiles when he jumped away quickly.

"What brings you home, son?" Noah asked, shaking Derek's hand and pulling him into a one-armed hug as well because Stilinksis were huggers, goddamn it. "You staying long?"

"Please stay," Stiles blurted without thinking. "Dude, you could totally stay and play with me."

Noah rolled his eyes when Stiles blushed.

"How's about I go and make us coffee?" he suggested. "Stiles, maybe a shirt before you blind poor Derek and scare him off with your pasty ass?"

"Heeey, I'm not pasty!" Stiles called after his dad before peering at Derek doubtfully. "I'm not. And as if you care about shirtlessness. You're the guy who shattered my self-confidence all throughout my teenage years with your inability to keep your shirt on for longer than an hour."

Derek dragged a heavy gaze over all his pale, mole-dotted skin, and Stiles shivered at the smoldering look the werewolf gave him.

"Don't wear one on my account," Derek said, and holy shit, was Derek flirting with him? Was Derek hitting on him? Maybe Stiles really was dreaming.

"Urgh, Dad's got a rule about shirts in the kitchen, and I want coffee, so," Stiles shrugged, crossing to the cupboard and digging for a shirt.

He paused when Derek came up behind him and started to scent the back of his neck, his shoulders, and the top of his back.

"Missed me, big guy?" Stiles teased softly when Derek rumbled a contented sound again, covering Stiles in his wolfy scent.

"Yes," Derek admitted roughly.

"Really?" Stiles perked up. "Aww, sourwolf, I missed you too!"

Derek bit the curve of his neck just hard enough to make it ache without breaking the skin and Stiles had to grip the chest of drawers to steady himself when his knees buckled a little bit.

"Are you really back in Beacon Hills to stay?" Derek asked against his skin while his hands slid around Stiles's waist to splay against his taut belly and the middle of his chest.

"Yeah," Stiles panted, unsure what was happening or if he was dreaming. "Yeah, I'm staying. I belong here. This is my pack's land."

"It's Hale pack land," Derek said against his neck.

"Exactly," Stiles agreed. "Fuck, dude, I don't know if this is a wolf thing for you, but if you keep doing that, I'm gonna..."

His hips twitched, his aching cock desperate for friction.

"You think you belong on Hale pack land?" Derek growled softly into his ear, and Stiles trembled, feeling every solid inch of Derek where he'd molded himself against Stiles's back.

"I'm Hale pack," Stiles moaned mindlessly.

Derek's stubble scraped against his sensitive ear and the skin beneath it, and his hot breath made Stiles shiver when he purred in agreement.

"You are," he rumbled in agreement. "You always have been."

Stiles whined softly at the acknowledgment, even as one of Derek's hands trailed up to grip his chin, turning his head in Derek's direction.

"Der..." Stiles panted, overwhelmed with what Derek was doing and how he touched him. He saw when he looked that Derek's eyes were fixed on his lips. "I haven't brushed my..."

Derek cut him off with a searing kiss, and Stiles's bones melted in the heat that burned through him, another whine tearing from his throat that Derek eagerly swallowed.Twisting in his arms, Stiles kissed him back, his arms coming up to encircle Derek's neck, confused but also wildly turned on and not about to look a gift wolf in the mouth.

When they broke apart, panting, Stiles blinked dazedly into eyes that glowed alpha-crimson.

"You're an alpha again," he croaked.

"I never stopped being one," Derek confirmed. "It just went away for a little while, like the rest of my powers when I was evolving."

Stiles nodded dazedly.

"You kissed me," he murmured, licking his lips.

Derek nodded, laying his forehead against Stiles. "I've been waiting for a very long time to kiss you."

Stiles eyebrows shot up at the confession.

"Oh yeah?" he whispered.

Derek nodded, their noses brushing together with the motion.

"All these years," Derek murmured to him.

"Why'd you wait?" Stiles asked. "You had to have known I wanted you the whole time."

Derek's lips twitched at the corners like he had known, had been able to smell whatever hormonal, desirous pheromones he'd been putting out all through high school.

"You needed to live first," Derek whispered. "Finish high school. Turn eighteen."

"I did all of those things ages ago. I finished college, dude. I'm twenty-two. I've been legal for ages."

"And you'd never have gone to college - never have left Beacon Hills, maybe not even have survived, if I'd stayed here or acted on this," Derek pointed out. "So I left because I wanted you to have the choice. I didn't want you to feel tied here by starting something with you when you were too young and stupid to know what you wanted."

"You..." Stiles trailed off, lost for words because it was true.

Leaving his Dad in Beacon Hills to ship off to the FBI Academy and then to college in New York when the FBI threw him out had been hard enough. Stiles couldn't imagine having ever left if he'd also had a lover tying him here.

"But now that I've graduated? Now that I've come home?"

"I don't want to wait anymore," Derek shrugged.

Stiles had to be dreaming.

"Did you leave town so I wouldn't be tempted to stay? Is that why you left with Cora and never came home?" Stiles whispered.

Derek nodded. Stiles heart might've been melting.

"Der..."

"You want to stay now, right?" Derek whispered. "You said... you said the nemeton's growing back? That you want to be here, close to your dad?"

"I do," Stiles nodded. "It feels right, being here."

Derek kissed him again, and Stiles clung to him, kissing back desperately despite his confusion and overwhelming arousal.

"Is this okay?" Derek whispered when they broke apart again.

"So okay," Stiles rasped. "So freaking okay, dude. Holy crap, you have no idea how long I've waited to kiss you."

"Since the day we met?" Derek guessed. "Or was that just me?"

Stiles might swoon, actually.

"You did not just say that to me," he giggled. "Sourwolf, you hated me at the beginning. You were always snarling at me."

Derek only nuzzled back into his neck, scenting him all over again and biting him several times.

"Oh my god, wait... were you always snarling at me because you were mad you wanted me? Dude! Did you get all growly and shove me into stuff because you secretly wanted to fuck my brains out the entire time?"

Stiles cut off with a low moan of ecstasy when the next bite was hard enough to bruise and accompanied by Derek's hands sliding to his ass, squeezing it firmly, and grinding their bodies together.

"Boys!? Coffee's ready!" Noah shouted from downstairs, and Stiles whimpered because he was achingly hard and didn't want to stop.

"If I say yes..." Derek murmured into Stiles's ear, nibbling the lobe. "Will you let me?"

Stiles was fairly certain his moan was more than answer enough.

[daizedndconfused]

You wouldn't happen to be open to doing a cole x reader where they are asked by wu to train the ninja (because there extremely flexible and skilled) and they end up beating all of them without using many weapons would you??? Mehehehe I love your writing and cole is so Under Appreciated (people should give him so more love!!) and you portray his character so well thank you thank you :3

new girl

a/n - hi lovely!! tysm for the request and kind words hello?!! also loved this request we love us a strong girl hahaha i kinda drew some inspo from our icon ty lee. this lowkey ended up being longer than i thought but SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG SOME RANDOM SICKNESS WAS KICKING MY ASS ALL WEEK??? but we’re getting better now hahaha (also totally agree give my boy cole some love he deserves it) anyways enjoy i hope i did your vision some justice honestly if you want me to make a pt 2 i sooo can with some more one on one moments

characters - cole x reader

type - fluff!!

warnings - just some mild violence in the form of sparring

synopsis - the ninja a relying too much on their elemental powers and master wu needs some help reminding them of what’s really important who better to teach them than you??

“Breathe,” your mother reminded you gently.

Easy for her to say, she wasn’t the one suspended in a middle-split between two rocks over a stream. Regardless, you did as she asked, feeling the air move in and out of your lungs and the sweat forming on your temple.

“The key is concentration–balance,” her voice came from the bank to your right.

Most of what she said you already knew having been doing this for years, but you didn’t mind.

In and out your breaths went, eyes closed, relying only on your hearing until you felt your mother’s presence hovering next to you.

Peaking your eyes open, she stood on a nearby rock smiling down at you.

“Very good,” she nodded, offering you a hand to help you up.

“Thank you,” you exhaled, stretching out your legs a bit after so long in your previous position.

Your mother smoothed your hair back before leading you across the stream and back onto the land where you promptly shoved on your shoes.

The two of you chatted beneath the warm sun and cool breeze all the way back to your house. Though even before entering, you heard voices coming from within.

You shared a look of confusion with your mother.

That was odd, your father should be the only one home at the moment.

You gently pushed the door open and followed the voices to your living room where you saw your father in a deep conversation with an older man.

“Wu!” Your mother chirped, rounding you to greet the stranger.

The old’s eyes crinkled as he smiled beneath his long wispy white beard. Your mother bowed slightly as a sign of respect, and you thought it only best to do the same.

Eventually, you all sat around the living room, each nursing a steaming cup of tea.

“What do we owe this visit?” Your mother asked kindly. Apparently your parents and Master Wu went way back. They learned all they knew from the man himself, which then trickled down to you.

Wu took a sip of tea before answering. “I wish to offer your daughter a job.”

All eyes moved to you.

A job? What kind of job?

Your back straightened slightly at all the attention. “Sir?”

Wu sighed wearily, “I have realized I may need more help than I currently have. Upon opening a tea shop, I have less and less time to teach my students.” He swirled his tea twice before his eyes set upon you. “Would you be open to helping out?”

“Oh, uh… your students are?” You trailed off.

“The ninja, dear,” your mother filled in gently.

Oh. The ninja? What could you possibly teach the ninja? Sure, martial arts was nothing new, and yeah you were trained in combat thanks to your father, but they had elemental powers for heaven's sake.

“I’m not sure how much help I could be,” you answered sheepishly.

“You do not need special abilities to teach,” Wu smiled. “And I fear the elements are why I am seeking this help in the first place. It appears my students are disregarding their training for their elemental powers.”

That made sense. Whenever you got frustrated while training with your father he always reminded you you didn’t need flashy powers to be strong. Because while they may be useful, there’s always a chance they can vanish, and then what?

Eventually you made up your mind. “Okay, I’ll do it.” You quickly looked to your parents, “If that’s alright with you?”

“Of course,” your mother wrapped her arms around you. “We know you’re in safe hands with Wu. Just promise you’ll call?”

“Of course,” you assured her as your father also joined in on saying goodbye.

Before long you were packed with enough things to last a few weeks. You might have to repeat some outfits for a while since the duration of your stay wasn’t specified. But you always had money you could spend on clothes.

“How do we get there?” You asked Master Wu after he informed you he and his students were residing at his tea shop, Steep Wisdom.

He glanced at you out the corner of his, and you just caught the glint of a smirk beneath his beard before golden particles started to form in front of you.

From those particles, something even greater arose. A dragon.

Your mouth gaped open. Wu laughed before tossing your luggage on top of the large white and gold dragon that had just materialized in front of you.

--

The dragon flight was frightening at first, but as you relaxed it wasn’t so bad. You got to see things from an all new perspective. Dragon-eye view style.

Eventually, through the clearing of teas you flew over, you spotted a cozy tea house nestled between the woods.

The dragon dipped lower and lower before let out a warning, “The dragon dissolves, can you stick the landing?”

“Of course,” you smiled. A drop from this height? Easy.

You prepared yourself, but the disappearance of the dragon beneath you still caught you off guard a bit. However, that didn’t stop you from landing perfectly on your feet.

Flawless, you thought as your luggage somehow landed just as gracefully next to you.

The space around you truly was beautiful. A wall surrounded the tea shop and courtyard, and you heard rushing water faintly in the distance, telling you there was some type of natural water nearby.

What you didn’t notice was the five boys lingering outside upon your arrival.

“Uh, anyone gonna introduce us?” A slightly high pitched voice asked.

You snapped your gaze away from the scenery and towards the voice. Five boys around your own age and dressed in colorful gis regarded you curiously.

Before you could introduce yourself, Wu cut in. “This is your new strength trainer. She’ll be taking over lessons when I’m busy. I expect each of you to treat her with respect.”

A course of “Yes, Sensei’s” were said before the bowed in unison.

Then, an older woman with a long braid falling down her back summoned Wu. Something about an inventory issue.

“Excuse me,” he said to you, and then to his students, “someone will need to show her to her new quarters.”

With that he was gone. And you were left with five teenage boys staring at you.

“Um, hi I’m (Y/N). Nice to meet you.” You stuck with a polite introduction.

“Hey there,” a brunette boy with somewhat spiky hair said. “You know we don’t usually get many new people, may you and I could–”

“Kai,” a tall boy with black hair, cut him off. “Don’t be weird. She just got here.”

“What?” Kai gaped. “I was just going to ask if–”

“I apologize for my brother.” This time the voice came from… a titanium robot? Now that’s something you don’t see everyday.

Clearly the surprise was written all over your face at the unanimous chuckle that came from each boy.

“I am Zane,” the robot didn’t seem phased by your surprise. “This is Kai, Jay, Cole, and Lloyd. Kai’s sister also resides with us, but I’m afraid she is busy helping Misako and Master Wu.”

“Oh, that’s no problem,” you responded. “Do one of you know where I’m staying? If I don’t unpack now I’ll never get it done.” You admitted with a laugh.

“I got it,” said the boy with black hair you now knew to be Cole. He walked over, and grabbed each of your bags as though they weighed nothing.

“You don’t have to do that, I can take some of them. I know they’re a little heavy but no one told me how long I’d be staying.”

“Please,” Cole smirked, “it’s nothing. I can lift more than ten times this weight.”

“Show off,” Kai coughed.

“You okay?” Lloyd asked him.

“Yeah just something caught in my throat,” Kai shook his head before coughing the phrase again.

Cole rolled his eyes at Lloyd and Jay laughed. Zane didn’t seem to get it. You even found yourself smiling at the joke before following Cole to your room.

“Don’t mind them,” he said. “They can be a lot sometimes.”

“Something tells me you also fit into that category,” you teased. You are who you hangout with afterall. Though it wasn’t always true, it seemed fitting for this situation.

“I guess you’ll just have to find out won’t you?” Cole joked, looking back at you over his shoulder.

Eventually the two of you climbed a set of stairs hidden in the back of the tea shop. Upstairs was a small apartment looking room with multiple sets of doors, one of them being your own room.

It was a decent size, about the same as the one you had back home, with plenty of closet space.

“It’s not much I know,” Cole said, “but there’s been worse places we’ve stayed trust me.”

“No it’s perfect,” you insisted. “I don’t need a whole lot to get by.”

Cole nodded, setting your stuff down. “There’s two bathrooms, the boys and I share the one on the left, and you’ll be sharing with Nya on the right.”

You nodded, looking around your new room, thinking of all the ways you could make it look homier. Cole didn’t say anything more, but he didn’t leave either. He simply stood in your doorframe, looking at you, looking at your bare room.

“What?” You asked him, smiling.

“Nothing,” he shook his head with a grin. “Sorry, I’ll let you get settled in.”

You wanted to tell him it was no problem, but he vanished before you could. Out of all the boys you had just met, was the best looking in your eyes.

Shiny black hair, tall, and built like the mountains he commanded. Your new job was off to a good start already.

It was well into the evening when you finally met Nya. She sighed thankfully at the sight of you. She loved her brother, and she didn’t have any problems with the boys. They were all equally respectful, but other than Misako she had no other girls to talk to.

You too were happy for another girl to talk to. There was only so much testosterone someone could be around.

The two of you got along quickly as you offered to stock some shelves with her. Even though you were technically here to train the ninja, you weren’t due to start until the next day.

Your alarm woke you up at six thirty sharp. You know you weren’t supposed to start with the boys until eight that morning, but you wanted to get an early start on your first day before you got lazy.

Passing your way to the bathroom, you ran through your morning routine groggily before you headed downstairs to make yourself a cup of tea to wake you up.

Scanning the shelves for something that looked appetizing for the early morning, you didn’t even hear someone approach you from behind.

“I personally like this one,” a familiar voice said from behind you before a hand shot out and grabbed a case off one of the shelves just a hair too high for you to reach.

You jump slightly, startled by the person’s presence.

Spinning around, you saw the voice and arm belonged to Cole. He was smiling softly at you, a case of green tea in his hands. He too held the appearance of just waking up–tousled hair, sleepy eyes, and the lack of a shirt with black plaid pajama pants.

You quickly averted your eyes from his bare chest and instead found refuge in his earth eyes.

“Why green?” You blurted. It was the only question you could think of at this moment. And maybe it would distract him from the fact you were ogling him just a bit.

“Helps with energy,” he shrugged, tossing the case up in one hand. “I’ll start the kettle.”

It took you an embarrassingly long time to follow him to the back of the tea shop where a small kitchen resided.

He filled the kettle up with water and placed it on the stove before taking a seat at the island next.

“I’d make you some breakfast, but I’m afraid it wouldn’t be edible and that’s not the first impression I want you to have of me.” Cole laughed sheepishly.

You laughed with him before you took it upon yourself to scope out the fridge.

“How do you feel about omelets?” You asked after finding multiple cases of eggs. With this many ingredients you would be able to feed the whole team.

“I’m down,” he nodded.

You closed the fridge slightly before you saw a slip of paper taped to the front. It seemed to be a list of written chores, and at the bottom written in all capital letters next to a star were the words, ‘COLE IS NOT ALLOWED IN THE KITCHEN UNSUPERVISED.’

“Jeez, what’d you do?” You giggled, gesturing to the paper.

The boy flushed slightly, shrugging his broad shoulders before saying, “You set fire to the oven one time and suddenly you’re untrustworthy.” He rolled his eyes.

“Funny how that works.”

“Hilarious.” He deadpanned.

“Well since you can’t help with the food why don’t you just grab anything you want to add to the eggs, help me find the pans, and I’ll take care of the cooking part.” You suggested.

“That I can do,” he slipped off the stool.

Even though he wasn’t helping with the actual breakfast, the two of you worked in harmony together. He’d hand you the spatula, chop some vegetables, and give you some spices upon request. However, when you thought you could trust him with cracking an egg and he ended up getting it all over his bare torso you took it upon yourself to tie a black apron around him.

“Seriously?” He laughed as you tied the knot around his waist.

“Yup,” you nodded. “Damn. I’d need a magnifying glass to find your waist.”

He tipped his head back and laughed as you returned to flipping omelets with a smirk.

At this point you had successfully made two cups of tea, and three omelets. On the fourth, you were starting to grow more confident.

“Think I could flip it without a spatula?” You asked.

“No,” Cole shook his head, now seated on the island behind you.

“No faith,” you gasped, offended.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” he shrugged, leaning back on his palms.

“Oh yeah?” You challenged before grasping the pan handle with both hands. You’d never done this before, but how hard could it be really? The answer was not very as you successfully tossed up an omelet and caught it gently on the other side.

You cheered, victorious as Cole also encouraged you, both laughing all the way.

Eventually, more and more people started waking up, and the more competent ones (Zane) began to help you with breakfast.

By the time eight in the morning rolled around, breakfast had been done, dishes were washed, and you were gathered in the courtyard with each of the ninja. Wu had given you the rundown of what he’d like you to work on with his students, and that’s exactly what you’d do.

“So,” you said, shaking the jitters out of your hands. “I’m thinking I’ll just spar one on one with each of you to see what you need to work on. Okay?”

The boys traded uneasy glances. “Are you sure?” Jay asked.

You smiled a little at their apprehension. “Yes, I’m positive. We’re just sparring, remember. But don’t hold back, otherwise it’s just a waste of time.”

“Yeah, you get your ass handed to you by Nya all the time, this shouldn’t be different.” Cole patted Jay on the back.

The others laughed at Jay’s blush and he grumbled something inaudible under his breath.

“Okay Jay, since you’re so worried you’re up first.” You waved him over. “Sensei said no powers.”

“Right,” Jay nodded as he approached you slowly.

“I’m not gonna bite you, Jay.”

“I know that!” He defended as the boys behind him howled with laughter.

You couldn’t help but tease him as the two of you got into a fighting stance.

You dug your feet into the ground and steadied your breathing. The key to combat was focus, controlled breathing, and anticipation. At least that’s what your father told you.

It was no surprise to you that Jay attacked quickly. He was the master of lightning afterall. However, that was what made him so predictable.

He’d throw a series of quick jabs that you avoided with grace. With each attack you’d be just an inch out of reach. Jay was quick–but you were quicker.

You didn’t notice it, but the chatter was nonexistent, and Jay was wholly focused on sparring. Though the sweat building on his forehead, and his attacks slowing were also becoming more prominent.

He threw a high kick in there this time, which was just what you were waiting for. The second his foot came off the ground, you moved to the side, grabbed his ankle, and with your own leg, swept his balancing leg off the ground causing him to fall straight onto his back.

Jay landed with a wheeze, but you helped him up just as quickly. “Your attacks are precise, but they’re sloppy. You try to cram in a lot of combined attacks and hope for the best. If you slow them down a bit you’re more likely to land a few.”

Kai ‘Ohed’ from the sidelines. “You didn’t even get one hit dude.”

Jay glared at him as he took a seat beside Lloyd.

“And you won’t either, your turn.” You pointed to Kai.

The others laughed, but Kai rose, determination clear on his face.

You got into position again, but this time you’d change up your evasion techniques. Since he spent the previous match observing you he no doubt knew some of your moves.

Kai fought more aggressively than Jay, but with less accuracy making him easier to avoid. You twirled around him after a hard punch threw him off balance slightly. With your backs to each other, you only had a moment to grab his arm, crouch, shift your weight, and flip his body over yours.

Kai landed as hard as Jay.

After explaining his problem to him, you called up Zane next. You wanted to get the analyzing robot out of the way before you completely ran out of cards to play.

You had to admit, Zane almost got you, but you quickly threw yourself from his reach with a well timed aerial over his shoulder. Just as you landed he threw a punch, but you were ready for that. You crouched the moment you landed, and swept both his legs.

Standing quickly, you had just enough time to catch the front of his gi, suspending him above the floor ever so slightly. You felt a bit bad–you didn’t want to dent him after all.

Lloyd whistled, impressed, as he was finally called to the stand.

Lloyd, the green ninja. You knew he would also be pretty difficult, but it was like you were in a trance at the moment. You weren’t about to lose your winning streak, were you?

Being as flexible as you were didn’t hurt either. Sure the ninja were pretty flexible, but you could contort yourself into the most uncomfortable positions making it easy to avoid each of the ninja's blows.

All you had to do was wait until they tired themselves out, and then deliver the final blow. It was almost as if they were fighting themselves.

Lloyd looked concentrated, but his stance was off slightly. You feinted one way, and he fell for it easily, shifting all his weight onto one side of his body to prepare for the hit he thought was coming. Instead, you spun and shoved your shoulder hard into the opposite side of his body.

Lloyd crumbled like a house of cards.

When the green ninja retreated with a defeated look on his face, you were left with only one ninja now.

You suspected because of his height, Cole would be slow and off balance, but you were wrong. He was sturdy, and his height only added to his balance if anything. You’ve fought people bigger and stronger than you all the time, bad unlucky for him they only went down one way.

After a while of going through your song and dance of avoidance once again, Cole laughed.

“You’re slippery, huh?” He joked.

You winked before sliding between his legs, kicking the back of his knees and then once more between his shoulder blades to send him tumbling down to the ground.

“Wu was right,” you huffed, wiping the sweat from your forehead. “You guys rely way too much on your powers.”

“Alright, cough it up, where’d you learn that?” Jay asked.

“Learn what?” You laughed, helping a grumpy Cole from the floor.

“You flip around so much I got sick from just looking at you!” Jay whined.

“Lots of practice and some time in the cirque,” she shrugged.

“Like the circus?” Cole asked, looking down at you.

“Not the stuff with the tent and the animals,” you clarified. “More like the Cirque Du Soleil shows, you know? Anyway, I did a lot of acro as a kid. Made it easy to learn combat.”

“That’s awesome,” Kai said. “Have you ever juggled fire?”

“I told you, it’s not the tent type of circus,” you laughed. “It’s classier than that. That’s besides the point, you all have work to do. Lucky for all of you we’re going to start with yoga today! Just as a warm up.”

You giggled behind your hand at the unanimous groan coming from all five boys.

[read-marx-and-lenin]

This is a genuine question that I hope I can ask but you don't need to answer if you don't want to or can't! I've heard a lot of people, for example a relative of mine who visited a couple of times DDR, say that communist or socialist countries were poor and it could be seen in the architecture, the clothes, the food etc. While this is obviously too simple way of thinking, especially when you don't consider the way other capitalist countries have affected socialist countries and still do, I was wondering where the "raggedy and poor" looks that everyone always seem to bring up come from. Do capitalist countries look richer simply bc they take from other countries and socialist countries avoided doing that? I feel like people always bring up the poor looks of socialism when they want to dispute or discredit it. Sorry if I explained this poorly!

I would say the main reason that many socialist countries appear poor to Western eyes is simply because a lot of them did not adopt Western fashions. So to take West vs East Germany as an example, West Germany was economically and culturally dominated by the US, and so the more American one looked and acted, the more wealthy one seemed. This made East Germany look "old-fashioned" by comparison.

It is true that imperial core nations get much of their wealth through exploitation, but this also contributes to the apparent differences through the availability of certain products. One of the often-heard claims of Eastern poverty is the lack of availability of fruits such as bananas and oranges. But where do these fruits come from? The tropics, which are dominated by imperial powers. West Germany had access to imperialist markets and could get cheap oranges. East Germany didn't have the same access and so oranges were a luxury.

You see the same issues of economic isolation in North Korea vs South Korea today. South Korea occupies an extraordinarily privileged position with its relationship to the US, just as West Germany did, whereas North Korea is even more economically and culturally isolated today than East Germany ever was. Yes, the DPRK is a poor nation, but they look even more poor because of a lack of Western fashions and Western products which are signifiers of wealth to Western eyes.

However, it remains the case that socialist economies are better capable of improving the average wellbeing of their citizens than capitalist economies are. In the capitalist world today, more than two-thirds of workers earn less than the local purchasing power equivalent of USD$10 a day. That is to say, the money they earn each day would afford them less than what $10 could afford a person in the United States. This number has only gotten worse over recent decades. So regardless of what anyone might say about the poverty of socialist nations, at least socialist nations are improving the lives of their citizens. Capitalist nations have been stagnating as more and more wealth is siphoned off into the pockets of the imperialists.

Recommended reading:

[thezombieprostitute]

The Arrangement - Part 12

Summary: Jake's done a lot of things to keep his sister, and then his niece, safe from his parent's influence and manipulation. If he wants to keep them safe, he has to marry you.

Warnings: Anxiety, Bad parents and siblings, Talking about abuse. Let me know if I missed any!

Part 11 - Part 13

Series Masterlist

It had been just over a week since your wedding. You and Jake have improved your communication. He's also managed to really set himself up in the home theater where he'd spent that first night. Apparently one thing your parents got right was the massive pair of recliners specifically for that room. Jake swears they're more comfortable than most of the beds he's slept on over the years. It makes you feel better about taking the master bedroom for yourself. Clay had visited again bringing a few duffel bags of Jake's things, including his computer. The massive screen for the theater worked really well for his setup.

While you were cooking, Clay had made sure to update Jake on the status of his family. Things were working pretty well, but there were going to be a lot of paper trails to hide so that they couldn't be followed. Or at least, not followed easily. Aisha and Cougar had both caught a couple of people following his family around that were confirmed to be employed by his parents. Hopefully now that Jake had his computer he could get some better intel on the parents' finances and connections.

But you weren't privy to that update. Jake and Clay agreed it was safer to keep you in the dark about the details. Though Jake didn't doubt your sincerity, there were still too many unknowns about you.

You really didn't mind that they got quiet whenever you were near. Your mind was already at maximum anxiety with Travis, your brother, still being in the Intensive Care Unit. Your parents had been acting unusually as the week progressed and Travis didn't get better. According to the police report he'd been seen drinking heavily with friends before trying to drive home. Usually one of his friends would be the designated driver and keep everyone's keys but, somehow, Travis had gotten his keys.

And now your parents seemed to be readjusting their life plans, and yours as well. The one time you were allowed to visit the hospital you'd overheard your parents murmuring about "he can't be seen like this," "he'll be seen as weak," and other similar thoughts. It made you worried you and Jake would be even more under their scrutiny, set to even higher standards. Your breath hitched as you realized they may demand a grandchild to help change the public perception of the family to one of hope or something like that.

You and Jake were getting ready for your first public event as a couple. You're helping Jake pick out the right suit while doing your best to answer his questions about what to expect, what is appropriate conversation, how much both of you needed to talk to others before you could leave. You know you're missing things. Jake does, too. But neither of you can think of the questions to ask so you establish a silent signal for help. Jake squeezes your hand three times and you either step in or whisper some advice in his ear. It's not a great system, but it's all you can do for now.

Jake hates how he looks in all of this but he knows it's not about him or his comfort. At least he doesn't have to wear the torture device you call a dress. The thing looks impossibly tight on you. He's worried about your ability to breathe. And the stiletto heels have you warning him you'll be on his arm all night to help you keep your balance. Jake actually takes comfort in that because he really doesn't want to be left alone at this event. Probably any event, but this first one especially.

As the car pulls up Jake takes a deep breath and you attempt the same.

"We can do this, right?" He says quietly.

"I believe we can," you nod. You gently squeeze his hand in reassurance like you did that first morning with the parents.

He nods, "let's do this."

As soon as he's able Jake is out of the car and opening your door for you. The last time he did so you were scared of each other. Now you make sure to give him a small smile of thanks as he takes your hand. The elevator ride to the party is as quiet as the one you took together your wedding night, but less oppressively so. It isn't until the elevator doors open that you both put on your fake smiles. Both of you taking small comfort in the fact that neither of you is suffering alone.

After the first couple hours Jake is ready to punch someone, anyone, just so he can be forced to leave since he's not allowed out yet. He's incredibly grateful you insisted on eating a little something beforehand. The food here is barely edible and dissolves faster than cotton candy. He hates the wine? Champagne? Whatever the hell it is, he hates the taste of it but, in following your lead, he knows he has to at least sip often enough to warrant a replacement glass every 30 minutes or so. Jake was grateful to have your weight on his arm to help keep him grounded.

Especially when Charles Blackwood, a "friend" of his from high school, showed up. Charles had been nothing but a leech throughout all of high school but Jake was desperate for some kind of friendship.

"Jacob! Where have you been?" Charles holds out his hand and Jake grips it firmly.

"I've been okay, Charles. You?"

"Holy crap, you're married now? Is that why you finally came out of hiding?"

"Sort of," he admits.

He goes to introduce you but Charles stops him. "I know this lovely lady quite well," he admits. You avert your eyes. "We were engaged for some time."

"You were?"

"Didn't she tell you?" Charles smirks. "Would've been married for two years now if her parents hadn't stepped in."

"For once I'm glad they did," you interject. "You're a conman who shouldn't be here."

Charles gives a small laugh, "well look who finally grew up. Too bad you didn't pick up on what was going on before I got you into bed." Your cheeks burn with embarrassment. "How are those dolphin projects going?"

"Sharks," Jake snipes. "Her focus was on sharks."

"Ooo, nerd standing up for nerd. How cute."

"You need to leave us alone," Jake fumes. "She is my wife and I won't let you insult her."

Charles scoffs, "since when can you fight?"

"Since boot camp."

That gives Charles pause. He searches Jake's face for tells that he's lying but finds none.

"Yeah, alright," Charles concedes. "Just don't ruin this party for me. Lots of other potential targets."

As soon as he was out of hearing range you let out a breath. "I'm so sorry," your voice quavers. "I should have...I should have told you."

"Told me what? That your ex-fiance is an asshole? That's not something you need to divulge."

"No...that...that I'm not..."

Jake leans in so that you're the only one who hears him. "You're more than just your virginity status. I'm sorry your first time was with him, he doesn't seem the type to make your pleasure a priority, but I'm not upset that you've had sex before."

You take as deep a breath as you can to steady yourself. "Thank you for that."

"So, can we leave the party yet?"

You check Jake's watch, trying not to be obvious about it. "We've got at least another half hour."

"When we do get out of here, would you be up for going out for some real food?"

You chuckle, "maybe delivery? Or take out? I'm not going to be able to eat much in this dress."

"Fair. And thank you for helping me get through all of this."

"Thank you for listening to my advice," you counter.

"Always," Jake affirms.

Part 11 - Part 13

Series Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @ashdoctor; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @embarrasingmf;

@irishhappiness; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @lokislady82;

@ronearoundblindly; @thiquefunlover63

[vesseloflukola]

Let’s talk about “Professional Jealousy”, shall we? I feel like most of us know what this actually means. Actual Professional Jealousy is envy that someone else in your profession is doing better at the job than you; that they are more successful or more recognized. However, Nic and Luke tried to convince us that Professional Jealousy was something different altogether. To them, “Professional Jealousy” was when you become jealous any time your scene partner flirts with, talks to, or has an intimate scene with another actor of the opposite sex who is not yourself.

They were actually just plain jealous of one another. I think it was both apparent to the people they worked with, as well as those of us who listened to their answers in interviews on the World Tour.

I mean, why else would all of the other couples dancing around Nic and Sam (Pen and Debling) be pulled out one by one until only Nic and Sam were dancing together so that they could get such a great jealous reaction from Luke as Colin when he sees his Pen and Lord Debling dancing? Luke actually said “ I have to clarify. I WAS fuming. That was completely legit.” Sir? That was the statement he made where Nicola felt the need to tell the fandom about their “Professional Jealousy” in the first place.

Luke continued to show us how jealous he was whenever Nicola would make a flirty remark toward a male interviewer, or talk about her attraction to either Ryan Gosling or Leonardo DiCaprio. He also really didn’t seem to like her looking deep into Luke Thompson’s eye’s when there were questions over what color they were.

Luke isn’t the only jealous one though. Nic admitted she did not like him flirting with all the ladies in the Ton, and she did not love that he had those brothel scenes. She admitted to already being jealous of his next leading lady (which we now know is Lucy Hale) and reminded him that SHE was his “first fake girlfriend”.

It’s funny, because last time I checked, friends don’t get that kind of jealous of one another. However, people who have deeper feelings do. It’s ironic to me how many people have been trying to say Nic and Luke are “just friends”. They have never once said those words.

Luke has called Nic a lovely friend and his Best Friend. Nic has said that Luke is a very special person in her life and she doesn’t have a relationship with anyone else in her life like the one she has with him. Most recently Nic mentioned that a lot of people would like the two of them to get married. What they have never said is “we are just friends”, “please stop shipping us”, or “why would we get married?”. What they have done is give us crumbs here and there. What they have done is continue to mention or reference one another.

We don’t know for sure that they are currently together, but I believe that they are. What we do know is that the pictures we have seen of them lately, they are both glowing. What we do know is that they are back to filming Season 4 with their Bridgerton family. Coincidence? I don’t think so!

[ghouljams]

Hey Ghoul saw you were doing therapy on your anons so I am here NOT to request therapy but to ask for idk tips, thoughts, opinions

How the fuck do you realise someone's flirting with you? How do you flirt back? I've found myself realising I was in a date while I was IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DATE so clearly my skills need work lmao

People always tell me "Oh, you need to be confident" and like. I'm plenty confident. I'm outgoing, I can talk to a wall, I'm a good storyteller, I like to think I'm quite funny. So it's not that I'm scared to talk to people.

It's just that... Apparently I flirt without realising and then end up in situations because I DIDN'T KNOW

And then when I actually Like™ someone I simply become a wet mop and that's why I've always been single (no, kidding, I've always been single because the people interested in me were not people I was interested in and on top of it they had to explicitly tell me because I didn't realise so it was all very awkward 😭)

Actually this is a wonderful question/looking for tips that you've brought me because I have a real answer to this!

Statistically speaking, and according to the university of Kansas, people are ASS at telling when someone is flirting with them. Genuinely we as humans are so bad at distinguishing what is and isn't flirting that we reliably can't tell who is flirting with us and who isn't. It's truly a wonder the human race has lasted this long.

A lot of it is environmental as well, so in places where people are looking for flirting they're more likely to assume people are flirting with them, and vice versa.

Now in terms of you flirting with other people I have no advice. There's so many tips out there and all of them will feel unnatural to you. The only way to flirt with someone is to have a genuine interest in them, and then you'll just sort of do it subconsciously. I don't think I've ever consciously flirted with Mr. Ghoul but somehow he's in the picture. So idk man.

Uh otherwise men are more likely to assume you're flirting just by being nice to them because they've been socialized to associate attention with interest, and women will never assume other women are flirting with them because they've been raised to see compliments and casual intimacy as natural between friends(which is great but girl I'm trying to fuck u please). So you're really just better off doing what you're doing and being your charming self.

If all else fails it's really flattering to have someone straight up tell you "I'm flirting with you." Also you can always ask for clarification, most people will find it cute.

[hannah-1890]

Felassan related rambles vol.1

My take on the whole "his back, turned" ending for Felassan in the Masked Empire: he apparently knew he would die from his last attempt to persuade his friend, he did it anyway, like Varric. Solas killing Felassan mid-sentence, in my opinion, is because he simply couldn't risk actually being persuaded, he dared not to listen to another word of Felassan's speech, or everything they had done, the loss of everyone who had ever mattered to him, would be in vain.

I don't think he was so furious that he must kill the betrayer to their cause on the spot, not to mention Felassan was among his oldest friends and comrades if not his most valued one. But I think he was afraid.

Remember what Emmerich said before Rook's final battle? Solas is essentially a spirit, and a spirit can't resist the yearning for reflection. Rook in one (my favorite) ending was able to outwit Solas, leading Solas to admit that he was not above-it-all, not a god, but a fool who finally met his match, his reflection. (This paragraph is also my answer to the "how did Emmerich helped by being a fade expert" question I've seen among datv discussions, I would say he helped greatly simply by caring the spirits and understanding them.)

And the last thing Felassan was about to say was how Briala reminds him of Solas. Should the mirror be shattered, the reflections will be no more.

(too many grammatical errors, too drained to edit. wip)