#the cape might be a bit of an issue though......

[rocketbirdie]

You think Vincent is waterproof?

well all that shiny leather and metal has gotta count towards somethin' right

[writerfromthestars]

DP X DC PROMPT: DANNY'S AN ASSASSIN?!

So Danny gets adopted by the Waynes somehow.

Now, he's a teenage vigilante, he knows all the signs. And he can clearly tell that Damian and Tim are sneaking out under the cover of night to fight crime as Robin and Red Robin.

While ordinarily this would lead to the connection between the Waynes being Batman, Nightwing, Red Hood, and various other assorted vigilantes, that's not what we're here for, so instead, what happens is that Danny thinks that his two absolutely normal little brothers are sneaking out, meeting strange people dressed in spandex and Kevlar on rooftops, and punching criminals.

He has no issue with this.

The only issue he has is that Tim and Damian are inexperienced, I mean, Damian's twelve or something like that, he can't have been Robin for long. He's not particularly willing to get back into heroism himself, though, so this leads to him casually dropping random tidbits of information that only an ex-vigilante/hero/assassin/other part of the caped community, would know into regular conversation.

Like, if Tim's using bandages on his hand, Danny will suddenly drop the fact that that particular brand is very absorbent and works really well to take care of large, bloody wounds, like bullet holes in important places.

If Damian's reading a book about different knives, and their creation processes (because be real, he totally would) Danny will read over his shoulder a bit and then just point out a knife that would particularly good for stabbing someone in the stomach, or slitting someone's throat. (he knows this because of a. his rogues trying to kill him and b. Dan likes sharp things.)

The three of them are watching some superhero movie or something, and Danny goes on a twelve-minute rant about how the fight scenes would never work that way.

Tim and Damian come to the conclusion that their new brother has been trained by the League of Assassins or something.

Here's the issue. Danny hasn't.

So Damian starts dropping little hints that he knows that Danny was part of the League, for example a reference to a technique that only a League member would know. Danny, who has been trained in hand-to-hand by Dan, who was trained by dead League assassins in the alternate timeline, knows the moves.

Danny is just happy that his baby brothers are taking his advice, and opening up to him too. Damian is even starting to talk about fighting with him, and he thinks that they might actually tell him about their nighttime activities soon.

Finally, the two confront him on it. And by that, I mean that like the emotionally constipated bats they are, they utterly fail in their interrogation because they can't just come out and say it out in the open.

Tim: so Danny, I noticed how you know a lot about fighting. and first aid, and stuff.

Damian: I have noticed this as well. Might I inquire as to where you gained these skills?

Danny just thinks that they have figured out his past as a vigilante and that they are worried about him being hurt.

Danny: Don't worry about it. I don't do that type of thing anymore.

Now that's a deflection if Tim's ever heard it.

Damian, digging for more information: I wish to know. Maybe I can learn from whoever it was that taught you?

Danny grimaces slightly before answering.

Danny: Trust me, kiddo, you don't wanna learn from the people who taught me this stuff. They squash you like a bug.

Tim and Damian take this as confirmation that Danny was involve in the League. Danny just means that pitting his rogue gallery, which consists of exclusively ghosts, against living boys would be unfair.

[leighsartworks216]

By Such A Little Taste

Sylus x fem!Reader

This got so far away from me ngl One minute you're staring at Sylus's hands while he plays the claw machine, the next you're writing 4k words about those hands

Title from "Hooked (Addicted You Might Say)" by Eleisha Eagle

NSFW, smut below the cut

Warnings: smut, fingering, cunnilingus, cumming untouched, hand/finger kink, marking, biting, kissing, teasing, dacryphilia/crying, swearing, praise kink, choking, breathplay, pet names, nipple play, embarrassment, shyness

Word Count: 4,085 (Y'ALL 😭)

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

“Which one do you want me to get?”

You look through the glass of the arcade machine. The attendees always make sure to keep it clean from any kids leaving sticky fingerprints on it, so every plushie is on full display. A red fox with a little wintery cape, a hermit crab with an ice cream cone on its back, and a cockatiel with bright red cheeks. You just love looking at them all.

“Do you think you can get the Cone Crab?” You point to it through the glass, without touching of course. “I don’t think I have it yet.”

Sylus smiles down at you. “Whatever you want, sweetie.”

He inserts the token smoothly, pressing it into the slot with his thumb. You cozy up to his side like you always do, holding his elbow while trying not to restrict his movements. His hand rests lazily on the joystick, fingers relaxed as he adjusts the claw. His fingers occasionally tap thoughtfully against the red top, trying to decide the best plan of attack to get the plushie you so desperately want.

Though, now that you’re here, the plushie is the last thing on your mind.

You’ve always known that Sylus has nice hands. They’re huge, easily dwarfing yours every time you hold them. Sometimes, you even hold onto just a few of his fingers or his pinky, just so your hand doesn’t get too tired. He loves it, too. He loves when you’re curled up into him, playing with his hand, comparing the sizes.

Tonight, though, those thoughts go a little bit further. You think about the way it effortlessly curled around your neck in the photobooth earlier tonight. How his fingers traced along your back when the crowd at the mall got a little too dense for your liking. The way they showed no mercy to Wanderers, yet tenderly bandaged your wounds.

You’re shaken out of your thoughts when his elbow gently nudges you. “What’s on your mind, kitten?”

Your cheeks burn red hot, as if he could possibly ever know what you were just thinking about. You scoff. “Nothing.”

“Oh? Is that so?” He leans down to whisper by your ear. You can hear the satisfied smirk in his voice as he says, “Then, why aren’t you claiming the prize?”

Claiming the- Oh. You jolt away from him, blush creeping up to your ears as you reach down and push open the flap to grab the Cone Crab. You hug it to your chest and determinedly avoid meeting his eyes. You nod into the machine again. “Okay, what about a Snowy Fox? The one I have is getting a little lonely.”

He chuckles and wraps his arm around your shoulder to draw you back into his side. “Of course. Try to pay attention this time, sweetie,” he purrs the pet name.

You can feel his muscles shift as he wraps his arm around your shoulders to hold the joystick once more. It’s hardly an issue with how tall he is, but you can tell he’s drawing you in closer than necessary… That being said, you don’t move. No, you just bite the inside of your cheek and stare down the claw like you have a vendetta against it.

It shifts along the top, honing in on a Snowy Fox plushie that sits off to the side. Thankfully, it’s not right up against the wall, or else he wouldn’t even have a chance of getting one without using his Evol. He hums, the sound deep and resonating within his chest right by your head, as he presses the button. The claw descends, loosely “grabs” at the fox’s head, and drops nothing but air into the chute.

Unfortunately, the proximity draws your eyes right back to his hand.

You really try not to keep staring. Really, you try. But it’s a useless attempt at best and woefully futile at worst when he chuckles, staring down at you with that knowing glimmer in his eye after he catches you staring at the prominent veins that run through his hand.

He shifts his hand back so his fingers curl sinfully around the red top as he pushes it forward to hover back over the Snowy Fox he missed just seconds ago. Your breath hitches in your throat as his lips graze the curve of your ear. “I see where your mind is tonight,” he muses.

You exhale sharply through your nose. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Instead of responding, he lifts his hand off the top of the joystick until just his fingers, long and practiced, trail along the front as he shifts the crane back a touch. His thumb, coming around the side, shifts it to the left.

“Remember to breathe.”

You jab your elbow into his ribs. He chuckles, standing up straight as he presses the button. The claw comes right down over the fox and finally gets a good grasp on the plushie. You watch it get carried through the air and to the chute. He releases you so you can retrieve it, clutching it to your chest with the crab.

“Would you like a turn now, sweetie?”

You narrow your eyes up at him. He’s planning something, you just know it. But it couldn’t be worse than watching his hands at work. You shove the plushies into his chest. He takes them and steps back. You definitely do not notice, at all, how both plushies fit in just one of his hands.

He slips another token into the slot, arm brushing against yours teasingly. You don’t react. The bear has been poked plenty, you don’t need to rile him up any further.

Eyes on the prize, the Golden Throat, you move the claw so it hovers just over the bird. Mephisto would surely love to play with it. (Even if playing with it meant ripping it to shreds.) The thought eases the tension in your shoulders. With a few minor adjustments, you press the button. And… nothing. The cockatiel falls over onto its side, staring forlornly up at you.

“Would you like some help, sweetie? Remember, you’ve only got one shot left.” He brings his hand around, golden token shining in the dancing lights of the machine as he slips it between his fingers. He holds it up with his thumb, pressing the coin face into the side of his index finger. It’s so small in his hands.

“No, I can do it.” You take the coin from him and jam it into the slot. Your face is scrunched up with concentration as you realign the crane.

You take a little longer than usual to line it up. A warm hand covers yours, engulfing it as his fingers curl overtop yours. “You’re so close, kitten,” he muses. The double entendre isn’t lost on you. “Just a little…” His index slides between two of your fingers, pushing them aside until it nestles at the crook. You feel your face burning again. “There.”

You push the button, too dazed to even check his work. His breath fans across the back of your neck. If the arcade was crowded today, you’re sure you would have been kicked out by now. The winning jingle sounds with a flash of lights.

“Good girl.”

And that’s what breaks you.

You practically push him away so you can grab the toy, not even taking the chance to cradle or admire it like usual. You shove it into his arm while he laughs, taking his free hand to drag him out of the mall as fast as possible.

He’s even worse in the car ride home. One of his hands is on the steering wheel, calmly turning it with just the flat of his hand around corners, or running his thumb in circles over the hardened leather all too knowingly. His other is on your thigh, between your legs, almost but not quite where you need him right now. It takes all your willpower not to guide him there yourself in the middle of traffic.

Once you’ve passed the border into the N109 Zone and he’s recklessly speeding up now that there are no laws to stop him, he squeezes the fat of your thigh. “You’re being so patient, kitten. Just a little further.”

Your sigh comes out shaky and impatient. “You’re still an asshole.”

Sylus just smirks.

You thank your lucky stars that Luke and Kieran are nowhere to be seen when you get to the mansion. The plushies all haphazardly lay on their sides in the back seat. You can’t think to feel bad for them, can’t think about anything else but the need pulsing between your legs, as you grab his hand and drag him inside.

Once you’re past the threshold, he’s lifting you up in one arm, cradling you to his chest. You squeal at the sudden shift in perspective, before wrapping your arms around his shoulders and burying your face in his neck. His other hand holds your thigh, fingertips digging lightly into the plump flesh, thumb stroking just under the hem of your dress. You kiss behind his ear, along his jaw, bite at his pulse. He nips at the helix of your ear playfully.

As soon as you’re in his room, you’re being laid out on the bed, his hand cradling your neck so you don’t land too harshly. His knees cage your hips as he supports himself over you with one hand. Warm lips slot over yours. His free hand slides under your dress, slowly working it up your body. His touch feels heavenly, igniting every nerve that was already burning on the way here.

The kiss is languid, remaining so no matter how much you try to deepen it. His wicked grin taunts you. “What happened to all that patience you had earlier?” he teases. You bite his lower lip. He hisses at the sting, moving down to bite just under your jaw. “Behave,” he warns. “I’ll take care of you.”

He sits up to fully remove your dress. You’re a vision that would be coveted by the Romans who would think you a goddess of the highest renown. Your chest rising and falling, already panting with desperate need. Your eyes staring into his, begging for more, more, more. Your hands reaching out to grab the hem of his red sweater. He grabs them, securing both wrists in just one of his hands to pin them above your head. He tsks with a grin.

“Not yet, darling. I need to make sure I fulfill all your fantasies from earlier, first.” Your face heats up. You have to look away, turning your head to hide your embarrassment against your arm.

He releases your hands, his own sliding down and reaching under you to undo the pretty lace bra you’d bought for yourself with his black card. He’d teased you about trying it on for him when you got back, having seen the purchase on his phone. It very quickly became one of his favorites. He drops it off the side of the bed with your dress, but leaves your panties on, even as you buck up against his hips.

“Patience, remember?”

You groan pathetically. “Please, Sy,” you beg. “Just touch me, please.”

“I was already planning on it, sweetie.”

He leans down over your body again, keeping himself up by his knees as he trails open mouth kisses along your neck. His hands mirror each other, running down the sides of your ribcage, down to your stomach and back, until they reach your breasts. His mouth seeks out your nipple, sucking, licking, savoring the soft flesh against his tongue. You gasp when his teeth nip at the hardened bud, back arching to press your chest further against his mouth.

A beautiful coating of saliva shines on your breast when he pulls away. It becomes lubricant for his thumb as he rubs slow, teasing circles along your areola, pushing his spit around like paint on a canvas before it finally brushes over your nipple. His other hand guides your neglected tit into his mouth, squeezing rough enough to leave marks as he takes his sweet time tending to you.

His red sweater rubs against your overheated bare skin. The soft fibers scrape over your stomach, tickling you and making your body flinch away on instinct. His pants are no better, acting as a solid barrier between your aching heat and the bulge pressing against you. You try to cant your hips up again, trying to get the friction you need, but his hand lets go of your breast to hold you firmly against the mattress.

Your nipple is released from his mouth with a wet pop, covered in saliva and red markings. His lips find your pulse, leaving gentler kisses over the artery. “I wonder what you were thinking about,” he muses, voice rough with lust. He can feel your heart racing against his lips. He’s tempted to bite down like the vampire from his story, but he settles for sucking a mark into the unmarred skin instead. It sends shivers down your spine and goosebumps up your arms, still staying obediently above your head. “Watching my hands… What did you picture, sweetheart?”

The thoughts come rushing in all at once. The beautifully prominent veins on his hand. The way his fingers curled around the joystick. The sinful way he teased your fingers apart while helping you…

The whimper comes utterly unbidden when his fingers trail from your hip to dance across the top of your panties. “Talk to me,” he encourages in a low purr. His fingers curl under the elastic band, slowly teasing one side off of your hip. “What were you thinking of?”

Your face is burning red hot with embarrassment and desire. You always struggle with speaking like this, when he asks you something so simple but so sinful. But you know that he’ll reward you so nicely if you speak up. It’s a dangerous motivator sometimes. “A-At the photobooth, when you wrapped your hand around my neck,” you stutter out.

His eyebrow quirks up with a smirk to match. “Do you like having my hand around your throat, sweetheart?” He lifts his head from your neck, watching as his hand trails from your panties, along your body, over your collarbones to your neck. The way your body twitches with every light brush is addicting. “Do you like knowing…” His palm rests over your trachea, fingers curling around the sides of your neck. “... just how easy it would be for me to… choke you?” He squeezes his fingers lightly for emphasis. He feels when you swallow, throat bobbing against his palm.

You nod slightly, biting your lip to fight back the noises he so easily draws from you. Even still, small whimpers emanate from your throat.

His index finger shifts up to rest along your jaw. He turns your head to the side slightly, taking notice of how your eyes flutter shut under his control.

“Oh, does this kitten like to be controlled? Should I get her a lovely little collar?”

The thought alone draws a mewling whine from deep within you. He chuckles, tilting your head back in place with his thumb as he leans down to capture your mouth. He pulls your lip from your teeth, sucking on it until it's beautifully swollen before he kisses you properly. His tongue delves into you, licking into your pliant mouth with deceptive sweetness as he tightens his hold again. He growls when he hears the hitch in your breath.

“Good girl,” he whispers, releasing the pressure and rubbing his fingers soothingly along the sides of your neck. “What else were you thinking of, hm?”

His red eyes bore into you so calmly, so naturally. It’s hard to keep looking at him, especially as you fight to answer his question. “How big they are,” you admit.

He smiles. It’s such an innocent remark. He knows how big they are compared to yours, how much you love laying your hand over his just to remind yourself. He leaves his hand on your throat, raising the other one to brush his knuckles along your arm as he seeks out your hand. You curl your fingers between his almost instantly, holding onto him like a lifeline. He turns them over to bring your hand to his lips, kissing the knuckles tenderly. “What else?”

You whine, closing your eyes to hide from his stare. “Please don’t make me say it,” you beg.

“Why not?” You don’t answer his question. “Hmm. Shall I guess, then?”

He disentangles from your hand after one last kiss, bringing it to rest in his hair. You dig your hand into the soft locks immediately, like it’s second nature. He kisses your lips softly. The feeling lingers even as he trails kisses down your body once again. Down your neck, over your sternum, taking one detour to bite at your tits. His hand follows in his wake, massaging and caressing your skin.

He shifts to be kneeling between your legs, resting them over his thighs as he reaches your navel. His hand passes him, however, pulling your panties down your other hip. “Am I warm?” His hot breath fans over your stomach, making you shiver. His lips brush sinfully over the edge of the elastic band. His eyes meet yours again.

You nod. His thumb caresses your jaw, a silent praise for answering him. You lift your hips experimentally, worried he’ll push them down again, but his hand slips under you instead, dragging down the fabric over your ass. As more skin is revealed, his kisses get lower. You tug at his hair, trying to push him closer. “Sy, please…”

He hums, tilting his head to rest his cheek against your hip. “Hm? What is it, sweetheart? Do you feel like telling me what you were thinking of now?”

You halfheartedly glare at him. “You’re such a bastard.”

He chuckles. “I know.”

His hand glides smoothly over your ass, fingers guiding your panties further down your thighs. Before you can be fully uncovered, he leans down between your legs to kiss your cunt through the soaked fabric of your panties. You gasp sharply, opening wider for him. He makes sure you’re watching when he gathers the material in his teeth and drags them down. You hope you never forget that sight.

He sits back to remove the final piece of your attire, slipping off your heels in the process. You wish you could sit up and tear his clothes off of him, throw them to the side with reckless abandon to expose his body to you. That thought is immediately gone the second you feel his fingers finally dragging through your folds. Just like he mimicked at the arcade to your fingers, he parts your lips until he finds your clitorus.

“You’re so beautiful,” he hums, the rough edges to his voice softening. He kisses your thighs as he gathers up your slick on two of his fingers, groaning at how absolutely soaked you are. “So fucking gorgeous.”

He raises his coated fingers to your lips. You suck on them without question, moaning around them as you taste yourself, as you lick up every drop he gathered until all that remains is your saliva. He presses down on your tongue, choking you gently at the same time until you gag. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, soothing his thumb over your bottom lip. “Good girl. Such a good fucking girl.”

Your scent fills his senses. All he can think about is how good you must taste, how you’d feel clenching around his fingers and tongue as he ravages you, your heady scent consuming his every coherent thought until he’s utterly drunk on your cum.

He can’t wait any longer.

His hands slide down your body to grasp your thighs, spreading them wider, guiding your calves over his shoulders as he dives in like he’s starving on death row and you’re his last meal. He moans as he licks a stripe up your cunt, swallowing everything you can give him and seeking more. His fingers create divots in your skin as they press down, promising bruises as they tug you closer and closer, until your head is barely on the pillows anymore.

You cry out his name through moans and gasps. Both of your hands tangle in his hair, keeping him firmly against you. He nudges his nose against your clit. Your hips jerk to ride his face and he nearly lets you. Any other night, he would have loved to flip you over so you could sit on his face, use him, ride him, until he’s suffocating in all of you. Tonight, though, he pulls his mouth from your weeping hole to suck on your clit.

It’s intense. It’s overwhelming. You’re torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer, begging him mindlessly, though you don’t know what for. One of his hands releases your thigh to take over where he left off. One long finger pushes slowly into you, easily accepted with how fucking wet you are, dripping slick down his hand. It fucks into you, curling to rub at your g-spot with a professional expertise. His second finger slides in just as easily, creating a steady rhythm that draws you closer and closer to your orgasm.

Tears slip down your cheeks, so fucking lost to the intensity of his attention to your clit. You’re so fucking close already. Air gets caught in your throat, forcing its way out through ragged moans. You can’t even get the words out to warn him. That swell of pressure builds in your abdomen too fast. Your cunt clenches harshly around his fingers, trying to draw them in deeper. Sylus’s eyes watch your face in a half-lidded haze, desperate to catch the exact moment you come undone for him.

Your thighs squeeze his head as your orgasm snaps inside you. Your head is thrown back against the pillows, fingers in a death grip in Sylus’s hair as your cum gushes out of you. He eases up on your clit when you tremble, shaking your head without conscious thought as it becomes too much. His fingers gently ease you through the afterwaves, hand drenched in your delicious slick. When your hands and your thighs relax, he pulls away.

You blearily open your eyes to watch him clean his hand with his tongue. It curls around his fingers, slides up his wrist and forearm to ensure he doesn’t lose a single drop; licks his lips as he pants for air. His eyes flicker to your cunt. Your walls clench around nothing. Your clit is swollen and sensitive to all hell. As much as he would love to go back in, clean you up with his tongue alone, he resists.

He gently lowers your legs from his shoulders, massaging your thighs to ease the lingering tension from them as he leans down to kiss you softly, sweetly. All you can taste is yourself on his lips. You comb your fingers through his hair, carefully trying to make up for any pain you may have caused. He sighs into your mouth, completely relaxed with your touch.

It’s you who pulls away first, tilting your chin up to get him to let up. He trails his kisses along your cheek instead. “You still haven’t been taken care of,” you point out.

He chuckles airily. “I assure you, I’ve been well taken care of.” You turn your head so he sees your look of confusion. He sighs as he sits back up. Sure enough, there’s a wet spot on the front of his pants that is definitely not from you. Your face burns as you look up at him.

“I… You came just from eating me out?” you gape in disbelief.

His cheeks are pink, too, despite the way he playfully shakes his head. “Don’t let it inflate your ego too much, sweetheart.”

You watch as he gets off the bed to go to the ensuite bathroom. It’s not hard to tell it’s uncomfortable being in his soiled pants, but he gets a wet cloth to take care of you first. You lay back, grinning like an idiot as he tends to the mess you’ve made. “I’m flattered.”

“Leave it alone, kitten.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll spend the rest of the night finding every single way I can make you cum without touching you.”

“...”

“... Promise?”

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021

[dc-gotham-instincts-wild]

DC BATFAM FANFIC IDEAS

Bruce not telling anyone in the JL his identity and one day he casually mentions something only an orphan would understand. - The JL members who are orphans understand. The others don't. - The entire JL gets concerned.

Tim's nervous (Read: really scared) around Jason. Jason does not like this and wants to fix it. Wait, why does Bruce glare daggers at Jack Drake? - Jason: I sense child neglect. Dad's already onto it, i see. Ok so how do i use this to get Tim stop fleeing the room whenever i walk in.

Sort of an AU fic where Bruce and Oliver were close friends (Read: brothers and that's what they see each other as) as kids, still as adults, and as vigilantes they work pretty well together, they recognized each other instantly even in cape, and while the the JL doesn't know their identities, each knows the other. - Also they're both autistic and somehow chaos ensues after Flash overhears them talking one day at the Watchtower and now the JL wants to know how these work so well.

Bruce was a wild child and so is Damian.

Jason adjusting to being under a roof, right after Bruce found him.

The first days of Tim's being Robin. Bruce and Dick are concerned, while, oblivious, Tim is doing things that only neglected kids do. He is surprised others care. Dick sets out to change this.

AU where Jack ends up being a crap dad. Bruce has had enough and steals legal custody. - Bruce: Well you had one chance at being a dad and you blew it. - Bruce: Tim's my kid now. - Jack can't do anything about this. To Tim, Jack is 'Father'. Bruce is 'Dad'.

Some of the villains notice that the other vigilantes and even Red Robin himself like joking that 'RR's folks don't even notice that he practically lives at our place, they won't notice him sneaking back in at 2AM'. - Until one day they joke about 'RR's dad blew it. B took legal custody'.

Flash has ADHD but tells no one. The other see the signs tho. Batman calls him out on hiding it. Why Bat? Welp, the other nominated him. GA joins his autistic buddy tho.

This isn't Batfam but Billy/Captain Marvel accidentally drops some street child stuff. The League, of course, pick it up.

Bruce has trust issues. No specific event- just it was that way after his folks died. The JL figures it out that it's not just how he is, he just generally doesn't trust people. They figure out that something happened to make him this.

The JL has to come to Gotham for a mission. They have to stakeout in a graveyard. At some point while they still have a few hours, Batman slips off. When *insert any JL member(s)* find him, he's standing above two graves. They catch him saying "Hope you're proud, Mom, Dad." - Chaos ensues from this.

Kid!Dick has a nightmare. Bruce allows his kid to spend the night with him.

Cass gets into a fight with David Cain. She is shaken. Bruce is there for her, though.

Duke has a nightmare.

Tim tries to sneak outside after having a nightmare. Bruce catches him because he's a Dad. He sensed a disturbance in the force. Anyway instead of getting mad he makes it clear who Dick learned it from and tickles Tim to bits and then carries him back to bed lol.

That's all i got for now lol. Might update it if i get more ideas.

[monodramatic-cannibal]

Orca's ref

info post about Memento Cadre

more info under the cut

-Uses He/Him may also use They/Them

-head canon voice: 

-He’s a Crossfell variant (Crossfell by Jakei95). So has a different experience from the og Cross. 

-Joined Memento Cadre due to the fact his au had basically been destroyed, and he didn’t want to be apart of X!Gaster’s plan to revive it. He doesn’t talk about his life before Memento Cadre, and wants to keep it that way. Somewhere in the beginning of him joining the group him and X!Chara were split into two beings. Wasn’t allowed near the other 3 when Omen (Nightmare) first took him in, as he was violent at the time and would have hurt the other 3, had to be slowly introduced to them.

-Has less magic than the others, but makes up for it in physical prowess. Being physically stronger than the others as well as being able to take a lot more hits than them too. Paired on with the fact he is now LV 10 he’s a lot stronger than the others in the group (Other than Omen). A solid/good punch from him is like getting hit by a bullet train. And due to his armour/cape his Def is high as well. Often being able to walk through most attacks, including gaster blaster beams.Though he can’t do it consistently. 

-His Name was originally ‘X’ but Omen (Nightmare) started to call him Orca, which after a while Orca became his new name, allowing him to distance himself from his old life. He’s never seen/heard of an orca before, doesn’t even know what his new name means.

-The tallest in Memento Cadre. Will slouch slightly from time to time when talking to others. Often getting told by the rest of the group to straighten his back or he will mess it up.

-Best way to describe his personality is like a honey badger mixed with a chihuahua. Needlessly aggressive, and acts like everything is out to get him so kicks off to keep everyone away from him. But only lets a few select people/monsters come close. He can be seen as a fighting dog that is still learning to act like a normal dog.

Or a pray animal that has nowhere else to run so has to fight.

Though a weakness of his is head pats. Doesn’t want anyone knowing that. If someone doesn’t attack him and gets close enough to pet him he’s basically the equivalent of a kicked puppy. 

-His personality when it comes to those he likes is basically like a teddy bear. Very soft and protective. He acts as a guard dog for them, and always tries to do his best to protect everyone and keep them out of trouble. He’s willing to put his life on the line for them, even if it means he might die, if it gives the others time to get away in his eyes it’s worth it.

-Never really learned to read/write, learned a bit when he was a kid, but never continued to learn. Omen (Nightmare) did offer to teach him when he realized Orca didn’t know. But Orca refused due to being embarrassed. Though Omen would teach him anyway at random times in a nonchalant way making Orca feel less awkward about it.

-Was basically created to be a walking loyal weapon. He’s loyal to a scary degree, this is why he was in such a bad spot in his au for so long. But when things went to hell and he realized he had no one to place that loyalty in it gave him major trust issues. Omen (Nightmare) was able to gain Orca’s trust over a long period of time. And slowly the rest of Memento Cadre he began to trust with Omen’s help.

-Will sometimes get annoyed at Omen, yes Omen doesn’t treat him as a weapon and will actively go out of his way to protect Orca so he doesn’t have to fight, but Orca feels somewhat useless without being able to fight, since it’s all he’s ever known. He knows Omen is trying to teach him how to be more of a person than a weapon, but he also wants to do the things he’s good at for Omen. “Let me fight, I’m good at fighting.” “But do you want to fight?” “...”

-Spends a bit of his free time with Omen whenever Omen is in the archive, since he likes to hear stories about the aus from Omen. Prides himself on the fact he’s the one who has gotten Omen to talk the most. 

-Wears a spiked collar to keep people away from his neck. Hates anyone getting near his neck/face. He had problems with people in his au trying to go for his neck, so uses the collar as a way to keep them away.

-Wears fingerless gloves to protect his knuckles, as he has a habit of biting his knuckles when nervous. 

-His cape is really heavy, its a similar weight to 3-4 weighted blankets (not including the spikes and fur on the cape, which also add to the weight) Will; throw it at others to knock them over. 

-X wound on his face, from time to time the wound can hurt and also give him bad headaches. The wound never fully healed so if he catches it on something it could start bleeding again. The others in the group have each tried to heal it, but couldn’t and it made the pain worse for him for a short time. 

-His normal resting face looks like a glare, which tends to scare off most people, without him meaning to scare them off. 

-Hates being alone, has to be hanging out with someone, so is often seen following the others like a lost puppy. He’s sort of fine when it comes to going to sleep on his own, but if he awakes during the night he will seek out Omen as he knows Omen doesn’t really sleep. Will normally fall back asleep in whatever room Omen is in.

-His tail wags when happy, in the past he never used to wag his tail before joining the group. Has once sprained his tail from wagging it to hard, was extremely embarrassed about it, and once he got healed he wasn’t seen for a few hours because he was so embarrassed. 

-Used to be a royal guard/samurai, was so caught up in fighting honorably that he would fall for tricks/others fighting dirty. But since spending time in the group he no longer cares about this, and will 100% do anything he can to win. E.g. throwing sand/dirt/snow into others eyes/eye sockets, throwing his cape (which is heavy as hell) at peoples faces to blind them/catch them/knock them over. etc. Though he is also aware when to back off from a fight he can’t win.  

-Is part dragon, often runs off of the instincts of his draconic side. So will sometimes act more beast than monster/person.

-Due to running off instincts half of the time he may do things that are closer to what animals will do. E.g. he will groom the ones he likes, he bites/scratches/purrs/growls, he collects/hoards shiny things. Gets possessive over people/things. 

-May have LV flares that are mainly effected by his mood. And due to him running on more instinct based he will often become extremely destructive during these flares. Or may get very protective of the group/over one specific person. He can’t really help it. When he’s being more destructive than protective Omen will take him to a dead au to cool off. 

-Used to sleep sat up, being on edge even when sleeping. He’s started to rest better now and will lay down now, but does so curled up into a ball, may even curl up around things, including stealing one of Alloy’s (Killer’s) cats to curl up around. 

-Will pick people up that he likes. Will also wrap his cape around people he likes too. May also steal people this way too, throwing an arm/the cape over someone to hid them then dragging them away. Does this often to Soot when Soot is hallucinating. 

-Will also let people lean on him, e.g. will stand behind the others so they can lean back on him. Normally the MTT will grab either side of his cape and pull it over themselves too to hide in Orca's cape. Omen will lean back on Orca but won't really mess with his cape

-When walking around an au, especially in Snowdin, the MTT will follow behind him in a line stepping exactly in the places where he steps. E.g. in Snowdin it will look like one set of footprints. Orca is unsure on why they do this or when it started, but doesn’t question it since he knows it keeps the others close to him, and also he feels almost honored that they’re following in his footsteps rather than Omen’s. 

-Was very iffy with food before joining Memento Cadre. Would basically eat anything put in front of him. Even if it was to make him ill. He never really had a good consistent food source in his au, and also when joining the group he also would hoard food, and hide food as well, which he slowly grew out of, though sometimes he still does hide his favorite snacks. 

-Very warm, the equivalent of a furnace, this heat comes from the fact he’s part dragon. Often when it’s particularly cold Soot, Cleaver will huddle up to him. Them often dragging Alloy into the huddle knowing Alloy isn’t aware when it’s too cold. When they’re back at the base Alloy’s cats will also hang out with him due to it being cold.

-Alloy (Killer) will mess with him a lot. Gets annoyed at Alloy the most. Though at the same time he can’t complain as Alloy will show him things he’s not seen before. Or show him how to do things. He thinks Alloy just likes watching his reactions to things rather than actually helping him out with stuff. 

-Often will hang with Soot, finding comfort in hanging out quietly with him. Since there’s never any pressure of either of them to speak. Knows a little bit of sign language, and sometimes Soot will teach him random signs, mainly how to swear in sign language, both of them finding it funny.

Inspos:

-Yuji from JJK, specifically when Yuji gets serious and the frames go black and white. He's also inspired by the move black flash from JJK as well

-orcas, mainly how they will punt things out of the ocean and generally only bigger whales are the thing that can stand up to them.

-Crossfell by Jakei95 is also a huge inspo obviously lol

-

[quinn-pop]

let’s do some autistic meta knight headcanons!! over explaining my interpretation of meta knight yet again wooooo

this orb has NO idea how to talk to people!!! outside of work anyway. a lot of this is partially due to upbringing (suppressing his emotions all the time) but he does not know how to express emotions, like…at all.

this goes into a few things

1. yeah talking is hard. even after figuring out what he wants to communicate he will struggle. conversation can be so overwhelming, especially under pressure. he will need time lol

2. because of that, forming connections is hard. i really don’t think meta is much for shallow relationships, and certainly not early in the timeline. which also means he has very little experience with friendship. so a lot of the relationships he did have went kinda neglected, and issues that probably could’ve been worked on by talking became…*cough romk* escalated.

3. honestly i wouldn’t be surprised if meta convinced himself he couldn’t feel emotion (anymore) until like. katam-ish. he tried very hard lol

vulnerability is terrifying. (though this gesture here is also just comforting, like his little cape cocoon thing he does.)

unmasking—yeah im taking the mask thing very literally here—is a big deal and a very slow process for mk. i’m sure he has a lot of feelings on that lol. it served as a way to ensure no one could ever, y’know, see him.

i can’t say i think he’d ever fully ditch it—there’s always gonna be some days that are more stressful than others and if having it could help him get through it, it just makes sense. mainly when working.

it really is about vulnerability. granted, i don’t think he has the most expressive face (in my head every astral just tends to stare at things) but i doubt he has much control over it. can’t fake a smile but also can’t hide it. probably blushes easy because yeah, astrals; just look at kirby’s face.

just the idea that someone might be able to read his expression and know what he’s feeling before he’s ready for them to (or even understands it himself…) yeah he doesn’t want that

but emotional turmoil aside, i think his mask also hides a lot of his stims

remember that whole “suppressing your feelings” thing? yeah turns out that ignoring half your instincts isn’t a good idea. so in true meta knight style, he tries to stim as subtly as possible

1. he has the least control over his wings, so they will flick and twitch on their own. they’re usually a good indicator of how he’s feeling, not unlike the body language usually seen in cat ears and tails lol. flapping is also an extension of this of course, though he probably suppresses it more.

2. this also effects when he takes his wings out. pretty much every time he’s excited or nervous it just happens. kinda makes me wonder if his wing cape ordeal might also go into the suppression thing… (i’d say yes, but using a cape is also very comforting so it’s not necessarily a bad thing)

3. going back to the mask thing; he stims a lot underneath it. think like biting or pursing your lips. he bites his tongue and clicks his mouth. that sort of thing. his mask also makes it harder to notice that he is constantly sighing, humming, grumbling…all that

one nice thing about the mask though is that it helps a little bit with lights!!! woo

(look at him and his magically floating glasses)

sensory stuff—i think he’s mostly bothered by light and sound. maybe a bit of texture. he’s pretty sensory avoidant and perfectly happy standing off to the side not touching anything.

the one exception to this is physical affection, which is, despite all of this, most of how he shows affection. it’s a lot easier to hug someone than to try to explain your feelings for them, after all.

i think he would like pressure though. so that’s probably part of it. and i’m pretty sure there’s some connection in here to fighting (dang, is that the only way he knows how to get his energy out?)

anyway, pretty much all of this is in contrast to kirby, who i would gladly nominate as the champion of Doing Whatever He Wants. he might pick up a few bad habits, but he will never mask the way meta knight does. he might not understand how he feels, but he’s in tune enough to express it…usually.

this is a very good thing for meta because it helps him to do the same thing. kirby’s so energetic, it’s hard to not want to stim with him. it reminds meta to be kinder to himself and explore his own emotions. he can also help kirby understand themselves, so this connection is very important.

yeah, at the end of the day, everything kinda just boils down to kirby and mk as parallels

this is the conclusion i promise

to me, meta’s arc is about growing stronger by growing kinder, and this is mostly by learning to be kind to himself. letting himself be a person again, loving and understanding other people, and eventually, letting go of all the expectations placed on him and doing the things he’s always wanted to do…

autism headcanons are fun for me because it’s cathartic to write, but at the same time, it just makes sense in this sort of narrative. meta is, to me, inseparable from these things. and so is kirby! that’s a dynamic that’s a lot of fun to play with, and it’s at the heart of my kirby interpretation.

if you actually read all this WOW thank you

[mmogurl]

Daddy Issues Part 4: Comfort

18+ | 3.2k | Homelander X Reader |  protective homelander, reader’s back story is a little dark, reader might be a bit of a nympho, mentions of suicide, rape, assault, alcoholism, emotional child abuse. This was supposed to be the last chapter, but the story has officially been extended by at least another chapter or maybe one more if I’m feeling froggy. Enjoy!

Part 1: Savior | Part 2: Baseline | Part 3: Spoiled | Part 4: Comfort

Tags: @screaming-potato

As Homelander busies himself putting out the fire, you attempt to undress for bed, but since the tent is not high enough for you to stand in, you find the task much more complicated than it should be. It’s a strained process of getting on your back and awkwardly pulling your designer jeans off, especially as they get stuck around your calves and you flounder like a fish to get them fully past your ankles. You’ve literally never had to take your pants off like this and you consider it a downside to camping.

Other than the lack of height, the tent is rather spacious, pleasant even. You sit up, sliding your hoodie over your head and fold it briefly before tossing it to the corner. Looking down at your chest, you beam when you see the Journey logo on your t-shirt. You’ve never actually been to one of their shows, but you still really love the band. In fact, it’s one of the few good memories you have of your mother: listening to music together. It’s one thing she had good taste in at least.

In nothing but your shirt, bra, and underwear, you snuggle down into the bed Homelander has prepared that takes up most of the tent’s floor. There’s some kind of padding beneath you that is way more comfortable than it has a right to be considering you’re sleeping on the surface of dirt and grass. He’s lined it with an unraveled sleeping bag, large enough for two to lay on, with another placed on top to use as a blanket. It’s clear he has no intention of sleeping separately from you, even when in the close confines of this shelter.

It’s already quite dark by the time Homelander unzips the outside flap to the tent and comes inside. He drops a few bags of supplies to the side and turns on a solar powered lantern. You squint as your eyes adjust and he begins to disrobe, wondering briefly if he turned the light on just to torture you. He unfastens the bib of his supesuit, pulling it down to the side to reveal the zipper underneath. You can barely concentrate on the small talk he offers as he removes the jacket and places it in a neat pile besides his already folded cape.

“I think our first camping trip was a success, don’t you?”

“Mmhm,” you reply close-mouthed, already biting your lip as he takes off his belt, unbuttoning the top of his tight blue pants.

You can’t take it anymore and turn away from him, trying to calm yourself as you feel the blush rising in your cheeks, your heart pounding. Sure, he slept in those damn red briefs every night, but usually he came into the bedroom already wearing them. You never got to watch him strip though and you can’t help but be overwhelmed by the desire you’re feeling as a result.

It’s not like these thoughts are helpful, since you already tried to broach the topic of your relationship earlier and Homelander dodged you, opting instead to talk about his past. You’re grateful he opened up to you, but still feel tormented by your feelings for him. Considering the two of you are already going through the motions of living as a happy couple, it feels strange to not be romantically involved.

You hear the rustle of sleek fabric as Homelander slides into the makeshift bed, close, but still a too-safe distance away. “Did you have a good time tonight?” he asks, his tone with a hint of worry as though he’s afraid you didn’t.

Braving the vision of his bare body that no doubt awaits, you turn back to face him. He’s propped himself up on his pillow, his weight on his elbow as he looks you over for signs of negativity. Thankfully, he’s mostly covered with just his waist up exposed. It’s still difficult not to gulp as he continues to talk.

“Were the hot dogs too burnt? Maybe I should get a grate for the pit. Make it like a grill…” he’s rambling on about his ideas, looking off to the side as he considers the possibilities.

You can’t help but wonder if he’s as nervous as you are or if he’s just oblivious. It’s sometimes hard to tell with Homelander.

Clearing your throat in an attempt to focus your sex starved brain onto the matter at hand, you interrupt him. “Yeah they were a little burnt, but it’s OK. It’s not like I’ve ever cooked a hot dog over an open fire before. So, I’m not complaining.” You shift between the blankets, rolling onto your back as you cross your hands beneath your head.

Homelander lets out a sigh and your turn your head to see that he’s mimicked your position. He’s looks at the ceiling of the tent, folding one hand under his head and resting the other on his stomach. He glances back at you, giving a small hum in response, as if he were lost in thought for a moment.

“Yeah, it’ll be better next time. We just need a little practice,” he says with an unsure grin, turning his attention back to the ceiling. It’s quiet for several moments and it seems like the conversation is going to die, until he finally adds, “You know. I’m glad you’re here… with me.”

You give him a touched smile, surprised by his direct display of affection. You’re used to reading between the lines with Homelander, judging how he feels mostly by his actions when there is a lack of meaningful words. Even though you know he appreciates your company, especially given he is so desperate for it, it’s a nice change to hear him actually admit it out loud.

“Yeah, me too,” you say feeling at a loss for words. “This was a cool idea.”

His features seem to relax considerably when you return the gesture with gratitude. You can’t help but get distracted by the cold glow of the lantern reflecting in and accentuating his already blue eyes, but you don’t miss when they travel down your form. His glance flicking down your shoulder and to your side, then hanging longer than usual at the tease of your thighs peering out from under the sleeping bag.

When he sees you take notice, he tries to play off his leer with concern. “Are you cold?” he questions, his voice coming off casual.

You raise your brow knowingly, but let is slide. “Nah,” you reply with a smirk. “These bags are surprisingly warm. They’re almost too hot.” You glance down at your legs and decide to kick the blanket off further. “Besides, I always sleep like this.”

His eyes darken as he takes in the expanse of your bare legs. Homelander swallows, trying to keep his cool, but failing miserably as his gaze lingers persistently on your newly exposed skin.

“Always, huh?” He comments absentmindedly, the corner of his mouth twitching.

You had hoped to get his attention, sure, but now you can’t take the oppressive way he is staring at you. You’re not sure if it’s creeping you out or turning you on - it’s probably a combination of both. You try to think of a way to make things feel less awkward and manage to murmur out something anything but.

“Besides, at least I have a shirt on… You’re a pair of briefs away from being completely naked.” It sounds better in your head, than when you actually say it. Shit! Your squirm internally, realizing you’ve just backed yourself further into a corner. If this were any other situation, you’d gladly take the opportunity to jump his bones, but this is different. He is different.

Homelander scoffs with a look of incredulity. “I-I’m never cold,” he tries to assert with false bravado, but his tone falters under your gaze. He stumbles over his next words, trying to maintain his usual cockiness. “I’m a supe… A-and my body generates a lot of heat.” He mutters, trying to excuse his propensity to wear minimal clothing in bed.

“So, that’s why it always gets so damn hot,” you consider openly, distracted momentarily by the revelation. It seemed every night since you started staying with Homelander, you woke up sweating, having to kick the covers off completely from the sweltering heat. “Hmm,” she muses, “Well at least we won’t need a space heater in here.”

“No need for that,” he mutters, his tone lower than before.

The drop in octave is a subtle warning that forces your attention back to him, but not quickly enough. In a flurry of movement, the sleeping bags ruffle loudly as Homelander pounces on top of you. His eyes are wild, almost feral, as they rove over your body, his hands pinning your arms to the ground.

“I can keep you warm, beautiful,” his voice is smooth and strangely confident considering how cringe the line had been. You’re pretty sure from the way he was stammering just moments ago, that it’s an act though. You can’t possibly mind, given the close proximity of his body and how good he feels weighing down on you.

But the reality of what’s happening begins to dawn on you, your eyes growing wide as he traps you beneath him. Why is he making a move now after he’s ignored the temptation of you for so long? And why does it feel so forced and wrong? It should feel perfect given everything else the two of you have shared so far.

You find protest and confusion are the first emotions that war to the surface. “U-Uh… Homelander?” you say stupidly, unable to even focus with the feel of his bare legs against yours and his cock stiffening against your thigh. “W-what are you doing?”

Homelander’s chest rumbles with a low growl when you question him, as if your words pissed him off. “What does it look like?” he snaps back, his voice dripping with annoyance.

He tightens his grip on your forearms, his knees forcing your legs further apart so he can settle his hips against yours. He’s untethered, unlike his usual calculated persona, and there’s an element of desperation marking his features.

His eyes are dark now, the sky blue color drowning in dilated pupils. “I’m doing what I should have done weeks ago.”

“W-wait…” you find yourself babbling. “Shouldn’t we- Shouldn’t we talk about this first?” You gulp, the spit getting stuck in your throat as your try to swallow. You plead with him, your lip trembling slightly with the implications of what this will mean for your fledgling relationship.

He starts lifting up your shirt with a devious grin plastered across his face and you’re instantly torn between so many warring emotions. Lust and the deprivation of release that sex had provided you with is hugely present, but there’s also a remorse, a shame hanging heavy on your conscience. It would be so easy to let go and indulge in what he was offering, but….

“I don’t want to fuck this up!” you bark out suddenly, almost confusing yourself by the sound of it.

Homelander’s smirk falters for a moment, his eyes slightly narrowing in response. His hand pauses in the act of lifting your shirt any further, and he looks positively morose.

He pulls away completely then, retreating back to his own space and leaving you cold in the absence of his heat. Homelander regards you with a cross expression, urging you to clarify.

“What do you even meant by that?” he asks, the lurid aggression now gone from his voice, replaced with sharp accusation. “I thought you wanted this.”

“I do,” you say feeling stupid for sounding so contrary. “But, you haven’t shown any interest in me all month. Then all of a sudden you jump my bones? Why did you change your mind so suddenly about us?”

Homelander lets out a weary sigh, folding his arms against his chest as he looks away. He’s clearly not enjoying this change of mood, but he does offer a response.

“Nothing’s changed suddenly,” he grumbles with bitter emphasis. “I’ve wanted you for weeks now, you have no idea…” he admits sullenly, his eyes shifting back to you.

“It’s just…” he trails off with a groan. “It’s a little harder for me than you might think. And I didn’t want you to think…” He stops himself short, letting a huff through his nose before continuing in a much softer tone. “To think that I just wanted you… for that…”

You stare at him bewildered for a moment, almost amused by his petulant manner. It takes a moment to even understand what he’s getting at, but then you finally grasp what he means.

“Ohhhh,” you say sounding like an astonished stoner. “You mean, you didn’t want me to think you were just interested in sex?”

He is clearly a little embarrassed now, his cheeks flushing and his eyes looking off to the side again in avoidance. He looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here in this tent, having this conversation with you.

Reluctantly, he mutters out, “Yeah…”

You feel a pang in your heart, trying to hold back the reaction you want to give which undoubtedly would involve tearing up as you let out an ‘Awwww.’ It’s so fucking adorable how impossibly awkward he is, how he’s always trying even when it seems like he’s being shitty and inconsiderate.

Your body acts on its own accord, getting to your knees as you crawl towards him, hesitant if only for the lack of clothes between your bodies. In the past, you’d have been so forward with him, not even hesitating if he came on to you. Now you find yourself afraid to make the wrong move.

You place your hands on each of his knees, looking at him as the memories flood back. The whole point in Homelander taking you in had been to rehabilitate you in a away. ‘You need someone to save you from yourself’ as he had so aptly put it on that life changing night. It was no wonder he was now torn by the idea of fucking you.

“And you don’t want to be a part of the problem?” you ask, feeling like you’ve got a pretty good grasp on the issue at hand now.

Homelander tries poorly to maintain a look of stoicism, glancing almost neurotically at your hands traveling up his thighs. He reaches down to grab your wrists, keeping them from moving any further as though trying to isolate himself from your touch.

“Yeah, something like that,” he replies, trying to brush it off.

You offer him a smile as the warmth of his thoughtfulness fills you with content satisfaction. Never before has anyone been this considerate of your well being and even though you had your doubts about essentially being held hostage by Homelander’s good intentions, you are are now incredibly grateful that he cared enough to try.

Slipping your wrist out from his loose grip, you rear up on your knees, placing a hand tenderly on his cheek. “Thank you,” is all you can even think of to say, because it’s all that keeps running through your head. How appreciative you are for this experience, a connection you didn’t think was possible with another person.

Homelander leans into your touch as though starved for affection, his cheeks hot under your gentle touch. A reverent look settles in his eyes as he processes what you’ve said, and he pulls you onto his lap with an urgent need. His arms wrap around your waist, holding your tightly against him, acting as though he’s afraid you might disappear if he lets go.

You’re startled at first by the closeness and strength of his embrace, but you relax quickly. Cradling his head against your chest, you run your fingers through his hair, soothing him because it just feels like he really needs that right now.

“Look, we don’t have to rush,” you find yourself reassuring him in a calming voice. You can sense his desperation, the need to be held, nurtured, and cared for. They’re not unlike your own cravings. “To be honest… This with you… Feels much better than all of the empty sex I’ve had combined.” You utter a nervous laugh, hoping he gets what you mean and won’t judge you. “Let’s just.. Let it happen naturally. Hm?”

He nods his head slightly, his face nuzzling to the side so he can respond. “Yeah… Just,” he begins to speak in a quiet voice. “Just promise me something.”

You lean back slightly so you can look down at him, “What is it?”

One of his hands roams to your hip, his grip flexing as he pulls you closer. “Don’t go running back to your old life. Don’t leave me.”

You can’t help but melt, grasping his dear face in your hands at the heartbreaking sound of his familiar loneliness. It was an aching sadness you knew all too well. “Oh my sweet boy,” you say without hesitation. “I would never leave you…” Never is a strong word, but you’re pretty sure you actually mean it. After all, nobody has ever taken such good care of you in your entire life. Not your parents, not friends, certainly not boyfriends. There was a pull between you and this man that you felt certain couldn’t be severed.

“Besides,” you add with a sardonically pointed laugh. “You already said the first night you took me in, that you’d hunt me down if I tried to run away.”

Finally, he cheers up when he hears your acceptance of his overzealous behavior. The corners of his mouth ticking up in a smirk as he shifts backwards, making some space between you both. “Damn right I will,” he barks out with a scoff, the scared little boy retreating once more as his prideful counterpart steps forth.

You can’t help but crack up at how quickly he falls back into line with his typical arrogant behavior, but at least now you see it for what it truly is.

“Do you wanna try and get some sleep?” you ask as a small yawn escapes you. Suddenly the thought of finally getting to feel those arms holding you tightly all night, the safety and security of it, sounds really appealing. “We could get some cuddle time in.”

Homelander chuckles when you mention cuddling, his eyebrows rise as he relishes the idea. “I’m down for that, he says with a sly grin on his face. “As long as I get to be the big spoon.”

“Aww, c’mon!” you feign complaint as you drop down from his lap and lay down with your back towards him. “I wanted to be the big spoon!”

“Too bad, princess,” Homelander hums as he crawls up behind you. He drapes himself against you, pulling you closer until your back is pressed flush to his broad chest. You fit nicely against him, like two lost puzzle pieces that have finally come together to complete a full picture.

You make a pouty little sound as you wiggle your back into him, nestling your head into your pillow as you get comfortable. As you settle, he responds with a huff of contentment, his hand snaking around your waist and trapping you in place securely. You feel protected, shielded, from everything bad in his arms. Drifting off, you can’t help but muse, that even though he might not realize it, Homelander really is a hero. Your hero.

Holy shit, guys.. This was officially the fluffiest fluff from the land of fluffington. What the fuck did I just write? I think my Daemon fic has been so raunchy as of late, that I had to make up for it with all of this sweet as apple pie Homelander fluff. Oh well, you guys love it! :)

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Prompt (it's okay if you ignore this one cos it's a bit dark/triggering): Lena, post S4 having just killed her brother & finding out about the SG secret, is suicidal, like seriously considering ending it once and for all. BUT she finds something that brings her back to wanting to live and be happy (a new goal or motivation?) Side reigncorp would be nice, having Sam there to support her etc and she's the only one she trusts right now plus she's the only one who never lied to/betrayed her. Thanks!

WARNING FOR SUICIDAL THOUGHTS/INTENTIONS

----

Lena stares at the pill bottle in her hand. It would be so easy, she thinks. Just tip the bottle to her lips and swallow the lot with a chaser of bourbon. Let herself drift away into sleep. Maybe she'd get lucky and remain blissfully unaware of the vomit and foam that would likely follow. Perhaps her mind would block it out, allow her to sink peacefully into death while her body convulsed to reject the poison.

She considers who might find her. The cleaners perhaps, due to return in two days time. Or more likely Jess, when she fails to come to work or answer her phone. Certainly not Kara, who believes everything between them is fine-- that their friendship hasn't shattered into irrecoverable shards.

Kara. No, Supergirl. Fucking Supergirl.

Lena clenches her eyes shut, but the image of the hero simply projects against the backs of her eyelids. With her stupid hair and her stupid cape and her stupid, lying smile. But no. The truth is, Lena is the idiot. An idiot to think she'd made true friends, to think she could share the innermost parts of herself with someone who wouldn't turn around and use it against her.

They played you for a fool, Lex's voice echoes from beyond the grave.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Suddenly, an explosion of glass issues from her living room. Lena surges for her handgun, and carefully creeps from her bedroom. Her fingers clenches unnecessarily-- angrily-- against the trigger when she recognizes the caped figure that rises shakily from the floor. But she doesn't fire.

"Lena?" Kara croaks, cradling her middle as though her ribs are broken. Lena watches her scan the living room and kitchen before locating her outside the bedroom. "Lena..."

"What do you want?"

She means it to sound angry, or at the very least irritated. Instead, she just sounds tired, even to her own ears.

"Something's happened to Alex-- to everyone. The DEO is compromised. They--" The hero grimaces in pain. "They tried to kill me."

"So you came to me."

"I hoped you wouldn't be affected. Whatever it is... it's bad. It's really bad."

Lena tries to feel something. Concern, outrage, curiosity-- anything. But she can't. She feels flat, like the air has deflated from her, leaving her a sagging balloon, pressed down by the weight of the air around her.

"Kara..."

Lena sees the exact moment the name hits home, and its implication hits home. Her eyes close in resignation-- not apology, Lena notes distantly.

"You figured it out--?"

"No."

Kara nearly sighs. "Your mother?"

"Brother," Lena allows, "but interesting that you know Lillian knew."

Lex was right. Everyone in the world but her knew the truth. Even her mother. And Kara knows that Lillian knows. That she allowed Lena's family to know the truth, but not she herself.

Fuck her.

"And now you've come to the Luthor you've managed to keep in your pocket."

Like always, Lena notes. Every time she's been involved with Supergirl and her allies, it's been as a last resort. Not because they truly wanted her or her help. Because they had nowhere else to turn.

Her stomach turns, and again Lena's thoughts flicker back to the prescription bottle in her bedroom. She feels sick, and she doesn't want to. She'd rather feel nothing at all than feel this.

"Lena..." Kara straightens as best she can. "I'm not here because I have to be. I'm here because you're the only one I trust."

Their eyes lock for a long moment, and Lena hopes her gaze conveys her disbelief. The words mean nothing, and the fact Kara expects her to believe them is actually insulting.

"What do you expect me to do?"

"We need to know what's affected them and find a way to neutralize it."

"I'll need a current blood sample, and a sample from before the changes in behavior occurred for comparison."

Lena turns back towards her bedroom.

"Then I'll see what I can do."

---

What she can do, it would seem, is quite a lot. Per usual. She isolates a chemical signature in Agent Schott's blood that stands out as abnormal, and traces it back to readings taken from clothes that have arrived on several alien refugee ships. The chemical is alien in nature, but it's not long before Lena synthesizes a counteragent to render the chemical inert until it could be processed from the bloodstream on its own.

She does all this before it can spread further than the DEO. Kara looks at her with gratitude and relief and a little bit of patent awe, but Lena isn't impressed with herself or her results. Isn't this what she always does? Pulls a rabbit out of her ass and saves the day-- but never enough to breach that final circle of trust she never even knew existed.

Once she confirms all DEO employees are returned to their normal selves, Lena withdraws. She relinquishes her role at L-Corp to Sam with some easy bullshit about taking a sabbatical. She hoards her prescriptions, waiting for the moment to be right.

The night she chooses is dark and rainy. But she manages to prod herself to going to the boutique liquor store beforehand-- might as well go out sipping something luxurious and expensive.

On her way back, she pauses on the sidewalk when she hears something moving beneath the car parked next to her along the curb. When it doesn't come again, she moves to resume her march home, but is stopped again by a new sound.

A whine.

Lena hesitates. She can keep walking, pretend she never heard it. But her feet remain rooted against her intentions to leave, until she finally relents and climbs down to her hands and knees. Pressing her cheek almost to the cement, she peers under the sedan and sees the soggy silhouette of a small quadruped.

A puppy. Or some sort of small breed. When it shifts, she sees disproportionately gangly limbs and a long tail curled around its trunk. Puppy.

Lena sighs. "C'mere," she mutters, reaching her arm under the car. The dog is far enough under that her shoulder feels like it nearly dislocates before she finally catches the sorry creature by the scruff of the neck.

It yelps when she drags it out into the rain, but makes no move to escape when she stares down at it appraisingly. Short brown fur darkened by rain, small half-flopped ears, and big brown eyes. It's certainly the picture of a creature any decent human being would cleave to.

"All right," she says heavily. "Let's get you somewhere dry."

She picks the pup up and tucks it into her coat. It curls into the warmth of her chest, shivering all the way back to her apartment. She snags a towel from the linen closet before removing her coat, and transfers the animal directly into it.

Once it's mostly dry, Lena sits back and stares at the beast as it stares at her. She glances at the bottle of liquor she'd set on the coffee table next to the pup.

Lena sighs.

"You chose a hell of a night to turn up," she says drily. Lena gives the dog's head a rub before picking it up to set it gently on the floor.

"Let's get you some food."

----

(Prompts are closed)

[literallylyn27-02-97]

Dad Lance and Silver headcanons!!

From being champion for so long, Lance has a lot of entertaining and fun stories, and Silver really likes getting to hear them.

Banter. So much banter. Silver loves to mock him for being "old, as well as "a flying type trainer."

Lance uses a lot of names like "kid" "kiddo" and also some pet names. He likes to call Silver "his little champion." Sometimes too.

Lance teaches Silver how to care for baby dragon pokemon and dragon pokemon in general. Silver actually really enjoys it, and finds it a bit therapeutic! (Not that he'd ever admit it-)

Silver would never admit it, but he can actually be kind of clingy when it comes to Lance. He doesn't like it if he has to go away for long periods of time, or even if someone else is getting more attention from him then he is 😤 that's his dad. (Not that he'd ever admit it.)

He's good at hiding his clinginess for the most part, but 9/10 Lance sees through it.

Silver, unsurprising, has a lot of trouble sleeping. He's got that C-PTSD/Anxiety combo that constantly keeps him up at night with paranoia and gives him non-stop nightmares, so it's rare for him to get the full eight hours. (Lance is trying to help-)

Silver is cold pretty much all the time, whereas Lance is warm pretty much all of the time. This results in Silver constantly leaning into Lance for warmth, which he is adamant is "totally not a hug!"

He also has this habit of wrapping Lance’s cape around himself and stealing it when he's not looking. And eventually, his Sneasel also picks up on this trait, which Silver finds hilarious.

The other champions absolutely adore Silver. The first time he met them Silver was (Though again, he'd never admit it because he's so strong and intimidating ofc) incredibly shy, so he wouldn't say much. Which sparked them all to immediately awe at how "cute" he was. (Much to Silver's disdain.) Along with "he's the spitting image of Lance!"

Which is why Lance has to constantly remind them: "you know he's not biologically my child, right?" (He refuses to say "not my actual son." Silver is his actual son no matter what DNA says.) Though the other champions refuse to believe him due to the fact they do look similar. /hj.

Lance gets incredibly happy every time Silver accidentally calls him Dad, or even when he finally starts doing it on purpose. (He definitely cried the first time it actually happened once Silver wasn't looking—)

Silver is deficient in iron and thus is incredibly sleepy very often and also pretty sick, meaning Lance is constantly on the look out just to make sure he isn't hiding any flare ups or issues from him, and that he keeps any medicine or snacks he might need to sustain his illness close by.

Silver actually picks up on a lot of Lance's personality traits! Once he's lived with him long enough that is. He develops a liking for bad jokes, (which he's very upset about-) more of an understanding and kindliness towards Pokémon as well as a lot more gentle personality.

But of course he is also still Silver and quick to get defensive if any of those things get pointed out, or if someone annoys him. He's just a lot less violent and (slightly) less rude about it-

It's a tradition in the Blackthorn Dragon Clan that Dragon trainer's get their first cape along with their first Pokémon. However, when Lance takes in Silver he of course already has his first Pokémon, so instead when Lance gives him his first (handmade by himself) cape he declares it "Silver's official welcoming into the family. (And no Silver definitely doesn't cry.)

Silver was really nervous at first about the fact that Giovanni was his dad, and tried to keep it hidden from Lance because he knew he hated them just as much as he did and he was worried Lance wouldn't wanna keep him around anymore. But one day Lance found a missing person description about Giovanni's son, that was oddly fitting of Silver, so he was able to put two and two together.

Of course, he still accepted Silver, since Lance believes more than anyone that people's blood relations don't define them, and that family are those you choose, which really helped strengthen their bond as father and son.

Lance is a morning person. Silver is not. Lance will be awake at 10:00 in the morning feeling refreshed whilst cooking breakfast, Silver will be flopped over on the living room couch wishing Arceus would strike him down then and there so he doesn't have to go through the pain that is fully waking up <33.

Silver doesn't like the dark. He doesn't like how vulnerable it makes him feel, and it reminds him of living with Giovanni and constantly having to hear the sadistic conversations he would have with the Rocket Grunts, and so he has a habit of sleeping with a lamp on when he moves in with Lance.

Giovanni used to always talk about Silver being "the heir to the throne" for Team Rocket, which always made him really uncomfortable. Even before he had worked through his personal issues about his views on Pokémon, Silver despised the idea of doing anything for the organisation. So Lance always makes it clear that even though Silver is training under his teachings, he is in no way obligated to go down the same path as him and become champion unless that's what he wants.

Lance hates leaving Silver along for long periods of time because he knows that boy will not look after himself at all. He has to constantly text reminders to eat, drink, take medicine, etc. So if he does have to go away for any League related things or anything else, nine times out of ten he's taking Silver with him.

Lance had to teach Silver a lot of self-care he didn't really understand due to living out on the streets for so long. The first time he ever brushed his hair was heck because of how tangled and knotted it was, but miraculously, they got there in the end.

He also had to teach Silver that a lot of things he thought were normal, actually, are not!

"No, Sweetheart. It's not normal to suddenly feel really tired out of nowhere and like you need to lie down before passing out, I think I might have to take you to see a doctor about that."

"No, you can't just "wait out" the paralysis your hand got from that Dratini's thunder wave. Come on let's go sort that out."

"Yes, you do need to take these iron supplement pills. No, Silv, you weren't fine out on the streets you just weren't used to actual love and care, Kid."

Sometimes it feels like he's giving Lance gray hairs early but he wouldn't have it any other way. <3

[allwormdiet]

Sentinel 9.4

Back in the saddle again

You know, I'm not sure if tinkers actually are "supposed" to be smart. The other examples we have to work off of besides Kid Win are Bakuda (constant state of fucking around and finding out until it killed her), Armsmaster (he of the dumbfuck raid boss solo plot), and Dragon (actually no notes on Dragon's relative intelligence), plus Chariot in just a minute here who literally only succeeds at being a mole because the Protectorate allows him to succeed as a ploy

I'll concede that they're adept engineers and scientists, sure, but you can know how to build a nuclear reactor and still be dumb enough to build it in your backyard. There's no single measure of intelligence that everyone measures high on, that's just not how it goes.

Then again like two-thirds of this chapter are lowkey about Kid having self-esteem issues so like, I get that he's being hard on himself. I feel like half the cape POVs we've gotten so far have self-esteem issues, never mind Taylor Hebert Queen of Self-Image Problems

I'm gonna skim over a lot of this fight like I had in 9.3, but while this can't feel good for one's confidence, honestly I'd mostly just be relieved. Like, yes, let the villains whose powers are Railgun and The Fucking Sun take it easy on me, that's fine, I like my body parts staying in the configuration they have.

Thank God he actually has a chance to feel like he's contributing, without the horror of accidentally killing someone

Wow, Trickster sucks. Why do they put up with this guy?

So, somehow I doubt he's somehow lacking in a specialty, but from the description of his apparent focus issues (plus the fact that taking medication to help with focus nearly took him out) I wonder if the way his tinker stuff goes involves having a bunch of little things, if the lack of focus is somehow a sign of what his specialty actually is.

Oh fucking boy

Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay (sarcastic)

Also I don't know why they specifically would go to cities that have already been Endbringered but there's a real "kick them while they're down" energy to it that I do not care for. Goddamn jackals.

Is it the "another tinker" thing or the "that wasn't Armsmaster" thing that he's more excited about lmao

Weld's adapting a little better to his role, and Clockblocker is able to keep his mouth shut and play along, so things are improving.

I dunno man, it's a citywide apocalypse, does bedtime matter anymore?

Hey what the

Fuck

is going on here

Tinker-to-tinker communication

Y'know, now I'm curious what the wages are for a non-Tinker Protectorate member. Obviously Tinkers can have it made if they've got something the higher-ups want, but is Miss Militia making enough to own a house? Is your income tied to merch sales?

Think this is the first time someone has outright said triggering as a parahuman rewires your brain to some extent. Curious to see further elaboration on that.

I think if you're gonna hire a mole, you should make sure they can lie convincingly. That feels like step two.

(Step one is "make sure you can trust this person to be a mole for you")

Fucking gottem

Well hey Kid, looks like you're pulling your weight after all

Current Thoughts

I do think Sentinel is a neat arc but I'll admit, in recounting and rereading this it lost me a little bit. That might just be the Travelers fight though, I could feel the lack of stakes to the fight like a gap between my teeth.

Kid seems like a solid character, classic impulsive inventor with an actual exploration of what that impulsiveness does to his work ethic and self-worth. I'm glad he gets a chance to shine here and I hope he figures out his exact specialization so he can stop being so down on himself

The Wards do seem to be coalescing into more of a team as things progress, sure would be a shame if the resident lone wolf was to fall for obvious bait and disrupt that or something.

[calvincell]

As a 100% devoted evangelist of The Batman (2022) I was duty bound to give The Penguin a watch. Despite my low expectations for spin-offs generally even with the plus of Matt Reeves’ continued involvement in the series I’m happy to say that I enjoyed Episode One a lot. Felt genuinely like DC’s version of the Netflix Daredevil series only with a minuscule booster shot of added levity. No significant spoilers btw:

My absolute favorite moment of the show and how I knew that showrunner Lauren LeFranc & her fellow creatives truly were onto something is the encounter Oz has with Falcone Jr. in the pre-title scene. Beyond just being an excellent hook for the show, IMO it was also a fantastic display of what makes The Penguin specifically a villain who firmly belongs in Batman’s rogues gallery outside of simply his penguin/avian gimmick as well as cutting to the heart of why he isn’t to be categorized as just one more generic mobster in the gnarled web of Gotham’s crime families; something which Batman Caped Crusader & Batman Audio Adventures tapped into recently as well. The scene along with the glimpse of his home life & familial relationships we get later in the episode shows how when you get right down to it, The Penguin is at his best when he is portrayed as having more in common with the villains at Arkham Asylum than with the garden variety members of the criminal underworld. Just like with how Daredevil highlights why Fisk is a different kind of gangster, The Penguin’s first episode shows how standard gangsters who underestimate him & pigeonhole him as just another mob earner with no teeth only makes them vulnerable to the “real Oswald”. That’s also why the character who they set up as his season long foil/obstacle works in giving The Penguin an opponent worth fearing who isn’t The Batman.

I also shouldn’t fail to mention that Colin Farrell once again truly cooks & absolutely disappears into his role & is once again surrounded by a suite of terrific actors matching his earnestness & talent beat for beat.

Overall, I definitely recommend at least this first episode to any Batman fan especially if you loved The Batman (2022) & Matt Reeves’ vision for the character, world and franchise.

My only worry is that similar to Netflix’s Daredevil, the amount of episodes coupled with the length of each might bloat the series a bit and harm the pacing. Though with the DCEU’s different priorities in the Gunn Era compared to the MCU it might not end up as an issue & the show might end up being better paced & worth the episode count. Relatedly, my only gripe is just general annoyance at our collective return to weekly episode releases for shows instead of binging but I’m not an expert in TV marketing & production so maybe weekly releases are truly a better boost for audience numbers, retention & growth than bingeable releases have been.

[cannebady]

who are we to fight the alchemy

They've been taking it slow, which Blitz knows is necessary but also feels so fucking stupid considering they've had their tongues inside each other probably hundreds of times over the span of their agreement.

But after a truly spectacular round of competitive communication issues, they've settled on wanting to be something and in order for that to happen, apparently, both Stolas and Blitz have to spend some time with the heads on their shoulders calling the shots.

Based on Stolas's encyclopedic knowledge of all things shitty romance, "It's the proper way of doing things," and while Blitz couldn't give less of a single fuck about proper, he gives a nonzero amount of fucks (one might say a fuckton, in fact) about Stolas, so they've been courting or fucking dating or whatever and definitely not doing any kind of fucking.

It's gotta be at least partially karmic considering how often Blitz complained about fucking the bird. In all honesty he'd loved almost every second of that aside from the feeling like a plaything bullshit and it's fucking fantastic feeling seen and wanted and shit, but also so fucking hard (seriously, very. Fucking. Hard.) to be so close and unable to touch, and lick, and, well. Ugh.

Otherwise, though, it's been kind of nice. They have dinner a few times a week, and Stolas will bring him an iced coffee and lunch at IMP and then Blitz will take him to a shitty bar with M&M. It's fucking nice okay? He's never had nice before and now, suddenly, he gets long conversations about nothing and everything, and holding hands and fuck, okay, he's in love like a little bitch. It's just that Blitz just also kind of wants to fuck, ya know?

He feels a little like a dirtbag because Stolas is holding it together so fucking well. Based on his initial impression (and hands on experience) of Stolas as His Royal Unhinged Horniness, Blitz kind of figured he would've caved a while ago. He won't admit he'd been kind of counting on it; but it's been two months and to his internal horror and shame, it's Blitz who feels fucking feral. They sleep in the same bed, bodies entwined and while it's definitely the best sleep Blitz has ever gotten, it's keying him up and up and up with no release.

Just this morning he'd burned almost an entire loaf of bread trying to make toast because all he could think about was taking his stupid hot boyfriend back to his ridiculous bed to fuck him through his mattress. So there he stood, mortified, erect, and toastless while Stolas hummed and fed his giant toothy plants looking edible and sexy and Oh Satan it was becoming a fucking problem.

The other problem is that Blitz can't solve this the way he wants to. Or, rather, he doesn't want to solve it like that.

He could grab Stolas by the chain holding his starry cape on and stick is tongue down the bird's throat to kick things off, and he probably will do that when his patience runs out, but he's also started to fantasize a bit about a version of their dynamic that casts him with less of an emphasis on Dom and more as the qualifier of Soft.

Fuck.

He wants to do some sappy shit that involves caressing and no toys and maybe also sweet nothings whispered into Stolas's ear until his feathers puff out and his face is a mess of honey blush and desperation. Fizz would call it making love and he's right but also ew. Ugh.

Thinking about that definitely didn't make him less erect, so with a "Mornin' pretty bird," and a squeeze to a feathered thigh (fuck his bird has good thighs) he portals home to shower (because he can do that himself now which is fucking cool), give himself a hand, and then 86 a few human fuckers so he can get back home and remedy his dick problem.

By the time he gets home he's riding high on successful hits, Moxxie's fairly excellent espresso (not that he'll ever tell Moxxie that, he'd be insufferable), and the fire still buzzing in his blood from having someone to fucking waiting for him to come home (and not to kill him, for once).

He forgoes the front door and his shiny newly minted key to, instead, scale the wall to Stolas's bedroom because he wants to put the bird in mind of a sexy, sexy rendezvous and, once over the balustrade, is quickly hit with a wild turning of the tables.

Stolas is laid in the bed, not even his robe on his body for modesty sake, and is desperately trying to rub himself off. The air is humid and smells like sex and home and stuff Blitz was sure he'd never have and even if he hadn't been hard enough to cut glass for weeks, this visage would've done it alone.

Stolas's head is turned away, muffling himself into a pillow and Blitz can hear moans and aborted pleas stifled by cloth until he hears a loud groan that sounds an awful lot like his name.

Oh. Ooohh, fuck Blitz feels crazy. The last vestige of his self control was held by Stolas's own and if his pretty bird is as desperate as he is then who is Blitz to deny him?

He's gifted in stealth for his job and from years of precision movements honed in the circus, so he slowly disrobes to his boxers, only making his presence known when he's right next to the bed.

And fuck the vision is even better up close. Stolas's feathers are a fucking mess, like he's been writhing and edging himself for ages, just waiting for Blitz's hands and tongue and his fucking touch. Like he wants as much as Blitz does.

He clears his throat and four sanguine eyes snap to his, wide and shocked, pupils visible but the heat in them is fucking palpable. He climbs on the bed and leans over Stolas, letting his body touch as much of him as possible, fucking finally.

"Whatcha up to Princess?" he asks, pitching his voice low and rough the way he knows Stolas likes. The moan he gets in reply is like music to his fucking ears and a spark in his veins and there's a blazing inferno before he knows it.

He hums and bites at the feathered neck presented to him before grabbing both of Stolas's wrists and pinning them above the prince's head before speaking directly into his ear, "You lookin' to get split open pretty bird?"

Stolas's whole body shivers and he arches up so beautifully into Blitz that it'd bring tears to his eyes if his entire brain hadn't migrated to his dick and set up camp.

"Please," Stolas whimpers plaintively, legs wrapping around Blitz's hips perfectly, and how could he deny his bird anything?

"You get whatever you want tonight, baby, want you so fucking bad," he murmurs and kisses a flushed, feather cheek before applying himself, rather liberally, to pleasing his love.

[tinycheesecakedetective]

...I'm baaaack.

I mean, I made one post about Swap!PV and then got distracted for months, so I wouldn't really call this a comeback. The moment I did come back though, apparently a bunch of lore just fell from the sky! Beast Yeast is upon us and all of a sudden I remember making an alt. version of this goober.

Turns out there were a few things I wasn't satisfied with in the first one, so here I am with my Swap!Vanilla 2.0 human edition! Even after all this time I still don't have a name for him. There's more white in his design, he has four horns instead of two and they form a crown on his head(that might be a bit hard to see), he also has a halo, his staff changed drastically, and he lost his soul gem. Instead he has two new smaller gems on his "ribcage".

This time around I tried to invoke more death themes, hence the ribcage, more wrappings, the halo, and the burn marks from, y'know, being re-baked and essentially reborn. The halo also makes for a nice double meaning, showing his somewhat good intentions behind the violence and spreading chaos gig.

Speaking of intentions, I maybe or maybe not have mentioned the only swaps happening in this proposed AU are between PV and WL and [possibly] Black Raisin and Red Velvet. I say maybe because if I checked, all the writing would disappear and I would have to start over again. However, I have wondered if those two swapped, how would PV handled the kingdoms? Would it be the same as DE or would the fates of each kingdom end up being swapped as well? It's something I definitely need to think on and develop.

Anyways, ramble break, here's a few doodles I did for Swap!PV!

Yeah, I had a lot of fun doing this. SO! A few changes not mentioned prior. Eyes! There are more eyes, especially on his coat. I took a bit of inspiration from a certain blue jester and his realm of nightmares. It also plays nicely with the whole "truth revealed" theme. Why not give the holder of the light of truth a bunch of opened eyes to represent his awakening? Also they looked good and his cape-coat was too plain without it.

Fun Head Canons: He's always floating, even when he's relaxing his feet never touch the floor. This PV still has a lily garden, it's just hidden away because while he still misses WL despite everything, he refuses to show weakness in front of others. His coat can take the shape of angel wings when angry and multiple eyes can appear when furious or in distress. Speaking of eyes, the ones on his coat glow. Those gems on him are pieces of moonstone that got corrupted after saving him.

As for the story behind him, I had to make a few adjustments. For one, DE and WL are two halves of the same whole, and the only reason either of them exists is thanks to precautions taken by Elder Faerie. Which means Pure Vanilla somehow has to get the stuff from Lily, who came to Beast Yeast without saying much of anything to anyone beforehand. Secondly, it means the Pure Vanilla Kingdom can't be the last kingdom explored. Pre Beast Yeast, the order in which the kingdoms would be explored would change, where White Lily's area would be explored first instead and the Vanilla Kingdom would be last. I'll address the second issue on a different post related to White Lily, but first things first. Fair warning, I wrote quite a bit.

~~~

After forming the seal, White Lily falls ill due to the immense amount of power used. She's not used to using so much of her soul gem, much less creating a seal to lock away ancient evils. Seeing her faltering state, Elder Faerie takes her away to his palace to help her recover. During her time in the palace, White Lily becomes distressed because not only does she feel like she's being a burden, but she won't be able to continue her research on how cookies were made. That was the whole point of coming here, after all. She left her friends and home behind to find the truth and ended up sick and bed ridden instead. The least she could do to redeem herself was to find the truth.

Racked with guilt and regret, she asks Elder Faerie for two favors; she wishes to know the secret behind cookies' creation, and she requests a pen and paper to write with. Before long, White Lily gains a messenger(Silverbell) who gives her books from the library to read, and a way to reach the one other person she understands. Someone who should've known where she was most of all. Pure Vanilla Cookie.

From there the two keep exchanging letters as White Lily brushes up on fae and beast lore. But eventually White Lily would learn about the Night of the Witches in a similar enough way to canon, i.e. finding the book about it. While she's recovered enough, she's still not well enough to go, and Elder Faerie isn't risking her well being and safety for a banquet. She's devastated that her questions may never be answered. If only she could go, if only there was some way to witness it while being in the Fairy Kingdom. And then... she realizes something. Perhaps there is a way for her to know after all...

White Lily, in the discomfort of her hospital bed, writes a letter to Pure Vanilla and asks him to go to the Witch's Banquet in her place. She knows that this is a huge ask, and he has every reason to refuse the favor, but it would mean the world to her if he did. Elder Faerie hears about this and is rightfully worried, telling her about the dangers, and any cookie that goes doesn't come back the same, if at all. He sends his own letter to Pure Vanilla to warn him of the dangers that lie ahead. A few more letters come in from WL apologizing for her request, saying it was out of line and inappropriate. "What a selfish request," she thinks, "after leaving him in the dark for so long, I have the nerve to ask him for anything at all?"

However, despite everything, he eventually decides to go. He knows that this means everything to her, and a part of Pure Vanilla secretly wondered about it as well. White Lily searched heaven and earth to find the truth so she could help others. Why would he keep avoiding it for so long? If he knew the truth as well, perhaps he could use these secrets to help the people of Earthbread alongside her. Maybe now he would finally understand White Lily more.

He wrote a letter addressed to both WL and EF about his final decision. White Lily is surprised at his decision, and is eternally grateful, while Elder Faerie is more resigned and concerned, knowing that he won't be able to change his mind but still wanting to help. He asks her to help write her next letter, and the two send a package to Pure Vanilla. Inside was another letter with the faint smell of lilies, as well as a map to the location of the banquet and a moonstone from Elder Faerie as a show of goodwill and for protection. He in turn sends what would become his final letter to her, unbeknownst to the two reading. He expresses his gratefulness to both WL and EF and declares his determination to find answers both for her and for the sake of everyone, stating, "Let me be your hope when you have none, and you my guiding light in shadows..."

Pure Vanilla proceeds to head to the Witch's Banquet, discovers the bitter truth, and in his attempts to save the other cookies falls into the ultimate dough. The fleeting scent of lilies is the last thing he grasps in his final moments, and the faint glow of a moonstone ensures his survival. His soul gem shatters under the weight of the truth and is scattered across the world, longing to be made whole once again.

~~~

Well! I think I have said everything I can say about him for now. I'm sure I can come up with more things later, but if you read this far, thanks for reading! I did not know I was going to say this much, so yeah. Next post is for White Lily specifically, I hope. I'm also taking suggestions for ideas about the other kingdoms and ways this could go, so if you have anything to suggest, let me know. Y'all have a good evening!

[it-happened-one-fic]

Hours in the Moonlight: Somnolent Gloaming - 6. Stick With the Stairs

Summary: It had been quite some time since Vil had last visited, and you certainly hadn’t expected him to be quite so playful when he did come. Nor had you prepared for him to be in the mood to show-off. You weren’t complaining though. After all, it was always nice to spend time with the first vampire you’d truly become close to.

Series Type: Gender-neutral reader/ Vampire AU/ series/ romantic/ angst/ angst with comfort/ fluff/ sfw/ platonic interactions too!

Trigger Warning: Vampire

Word Count: 1600

Hours in the Moonlight Master-List

I hadn’t been awake long when a light tapping sounded on my window, causing me to frown.

I wasn’t expecting anyone, and though Malleus had offered to send someone to walk me to his clan’s headquarters, I’d refused him, and so far as I knew, he didn’t know where I lived.

And if he did, then I was about to get very disturbed.

I was cautious as I pulled back the curtain, and my eyes widened as the light of the first stars that peeked out through the clouds filling the overcast sky illuminated the man who otherwise shadowed.

His cape blew slightly in the light wind as he looked down at me, a smile slipping onto his beautiful face as I looked up at him. And it was odd to realize that even though I’d known Vil for so long, he could still take my breath away at times.

I swallowed as I looked up at him, finding my voice before it became obvious that anything was amiss, “Vil… What are you doing here?” 

I stepped back to let him in, watching as he slipped through the window as calmly as ever.

Amusement filled his voice as he spoke, and I felt myself relax at his words, “I just came to check up on you. Is that no longer allowed?”

I couldn’t deny that I sometimes wondered if my friendship with him was allowed. Crowley had never said anything, but I did wonder if it would ever crop up as an issue. He’d used those I cared for in the past, so there was nothing saying the birdlike vampire wouldn’t do so again.

But I didn’t comment on any of that. It would only make Vil worry and result in a conversation that I didn’t really want to face.

So instead, I smiled. Crossing my arms slightly as I eyed the young man across from me, “Of course it is. I just wasn’t expecting you, and I’ll be heading out soon to go to work.”

Vil nodded, his head tilting ever so slightly, “Yes, well, I thought I might walk you. It is raining after all.”

As he spoke, he held up a black umbrella that had me chuckling slightly, “Alright, let me get ready then.”

Vil watched, an idle smile on his face as I grabbed my bag and then latched the necklace around my neck. Letting the cross that hung from it settle comfortably against my collarbone before I turned to face him once more.

Vil may have been the one to get me the necklace, but that didn’t mean he could handle seeing it when he himself was a vampire.

Something flickered in his gaze as he looked at the visible portion of chain from where the necklace hung mostly under my shirt, though, “Do you always wear that when you go out?”

There was a softness to his voice as he spoke, and I felt a smile flicker across my face. I doubted many would believe it if I were to try and tell them exactly how much of a softie this man was.

“Well, of course. It’s an added bit of protection, and I did tell you I’d try to be careful,” I couldn’t help but tease him slightly as I grinned at both him and his affection. 

He snorted slightly at my words, shaking his head, “At least you are putting in an effort then. I was worried after I found out you'd made friends with Leona, of all people.” 

I felt my eyebrows lift at his words before I shrugged, waving off his pointed comment as if it were a particularly pesky bug, “Leona isn’t that bad. You just have to get used to him.”

Even as I spoke, I was thinking back to the one time I’d seen Leona and Vil interact. That had been quite the meeting, and it still had me questioning exactly what their relationship was.

Vil had said early on, before I’d ever even met Leona, that the two of them had an understanding. And they certainly were comfortable enough snipping back and forth, as I’d seen from that one time they’d both been here at my apartment.

 I watched Vil, half wanting to question him but opting to remain silent as he turned and headed towards the window. It was nice enough that he’d come by to visit that I didn’t want to question him.

 I’d been expecting that I’d be too busy while evaluating the Diasomnia Clan to see any of my friends, so, in truth, I simply wanted to revel in this time with him. 

As selfish as that may be when I knew he had a clan all his own to lead.

I found myself smiling as I turned and walked the opposite direction from him and towards the door, “I’ll meet you downstairs then.”

“Oh?” His tone had me stopping immediately and glancing back at him in confusion, only to find him leaning against the window frame. His eyes were glistening with amusement as he gestured out the still-open window, “I thought you might join me in using this exit.”

He watched silently as I stared at him in silent disbelief before walking over and looking out my window and down at the street. 

It was the same two-story drop as ever, but I found myself stepping back with a halfway nervous laugh, “Yeah… No, I think I’ll just take the stairs.”

His eyebrows lifted at my words, his arms now smoothly crossed in front of him. Somehow not wrinkling his clothes at all, though that was to be expected of Vil. 

��Nervous are we, Tater tot? And here I thought you’d be fine considering Jack told Epel that you’d gone with him through this very same window.”

Jack had told Epel? I hadn’t even known those two knew each other, much less that they were talking about random stuff like that….

I made a slight face at Vil’s words, “That was a different situation, you know that, Vil.”

He nodded, “True, but I thought you might be in a hurry this evening too. It is already dark out after all.”

When I stayed silent, his expression turned more amused, “Or perhaps you trust Jack more than me?”

I felt myself make yet another face at his words, frowning at him as I shook my head, “Now you know that’s not true, Vil and-”

He reached out, his thumb rubbing at the spot between my eyebrows as if he could smooth the skin there with his mere touch, “There, enough of that. Time is hard enough on us all; you should be kinder to your skin.”

I let out a slight huff at his lightly scolding words and didn't bother fighting as he calmly wrapped an arm around me and pulled me over so that I pressed against his side. He glanced down at me even as I stubbornly looked forward and not at him, “Scared?”

I relented, glancing up at him before wrapping my arms around his neck and exhaling, halfway bracing myself since this was obviously going to be happening, “No.”

Even my voice sounded stubborn, and he snorted again but didn’t hesitate as he placed one foot on the edge of the window. His arm around me tightening even as I felt every part of me tensing.

“I should certainly hope not. I wouldn’t be much of a vampire if I couldn’t handle carrying a Tater Tot with me.”

I glanced up at him, already prepared to retort, only for him to push off the ground and out the window with very little warning.

I inhaled sharply, all but clinging to him as we emerged from my apartment and out into the open air, his cape flapping out behind us as we zipped towards the ground at disturbingly fast speeds.

The umbrella popped open over our heads, and he clicked down, somehow landing lightly and with perfect balance in his heels with me clinging to his side, still wide-eyed despite the fact I’d somehow managed to keep from screaming my head off.

He’d been in complete control the entire time, and even now he was smiling down at me, the umbrella already held over our heads from where he’d somehow opened it mid-air without ever having to adjust his hold on me.

His grip on me relaxed as I found my balance, slowly letting go of him now that we were on steady ground.

“There, not so bad was it?” He sounded oddly smug as he linked his arm with mine, and I found myself snorting slightly at him as I shook my head.

I didn’t really know what had gotten into him, but it was almost like Vil was showing off or something. Which was ridiculous since he was already amazing enough as he was and didn’t have anything to prove. 

Not to me at least. I didn’t need him adding onto what he’d already shown me. He was amazing enough as it was. I wasn’t sure I could handle much more without beginning to question if he were real.

“Still, I think I’ll stick with the stairs,” I smiled at him, elbowing him slightly and watching with a grin as his eyebrows lifted my words.

“Well, I should certainly hope so. You only just provided me with evidence that you were being careful. I don’t need you to start jumping out windows now.”

I laughed aloud at his wry tone as we started walking side-by-side through the rain like we didn’t have a care in the world.

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[esperata]

Recommended reads

There's a lot of different Batman media and I've written versions of riddlebird for many of them. I've selected one of my stories from each fandom to hopefully give people a taste of the variety. Expect more to be added as I write for new shows or old ones I haven't got to yet.

Batman (1966) Sixties - G - Words: 4,385 As the years go on the invites turn from weddings to baby showers to funerals. In their line of work though, Penguin and Riddler consider themselves lucky to have made it thus far together. (Old Married Couple) (Wakes & Funerals)

Batman - All Media Types Minesweeper - G - Words: 269 Batman had finally navigated the typical Riddler labyrinth but what he finds isn't exactly what he expects. (Gamer Ed) (Sleepy Penguin) (Fluff)

Batman: Arkham (Video Games) Arkham Games - E - Words: 19,477 Factions are at play backing Penguin into a corner. And if that wasn't enough to be dealing with, he also has to fathom whatever is going on between him and Riddler. (Canon-Typical Violence) (Homophobic Language) (Sexual Tension) (Friends With Benefits) (except not really friends) (Stubborn Denial) (Hand Jobs) (Blow Jobs) (Frottage) (Semi-Public Sex) (Masturbation) (Rough Sex) (Anal Sex)

Batman: Caped Crusader Homme d'affaires - T - Words: 5,697 Edward Nashton just needs to land a big sale. What he finds is a whole other world of possibility. (salesman) (Implied/Referenced Torture) (Choking)

Batman (Comics) The Mind Is A Fragile Thing - G - Words: 2,454 Riddler is undergoing treatment in Arkham and Penguin is not happy about it. (Bruce Wayne) (Arkham Asylum) (Mental Health Issues)

Batman (Movies 1989-1997) Anything Yours Can Do - T - Words: 1,954 Helping Batman out was supposed to be a bit of fun. So how did she end up arguing with Riddler over who had the best lover? (Arguing) (Bragging) (Relationship Comparisons) (BatCat) (Guess which wins)

Batman Ninja (2018) Ridorā Kitsune - G - Words: 2,830 When Penguin is brought with several others to ancient Japan by an experiment gone wrong, he has a wealth of things to concern him. Not least of which is what precisely might have happened to Riddler. (Japan) (Canon time travel) (Friendly Kidnapping)

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Batman: The Brave and the Bold The Brave And The Bold - G - Words: 2,088 Fortune favours the brave, they say, but Riddler is stacking the odds in his favour as he approaches Penguin for a date. (Courtship) (Crimes & Criminals)

Batman: The Telltale Series (Video Games) Bedye Art - G - Words: 1,550 The failure of Penguin's plans had merely been a stumbling block. Now, however, he had a far more pressing concern. (Blackgate Penitentiary) (Canonical Character Death)

Batwheels (Cartoon) In The Air Tonight - T - Words: 2,150 After a heist gone wrong, Penguin and Riddler find themselves trapped with very little to distract them but each other. (Ferris Wheels) (First Kiss)

Batwoman (TV 2019) Little Bird - T - Words: 4,017 Alice has left the city to undergo rehabilatitation in a private establishment run by someone very familiar with the trials faced by those seeking help in Gotham. (long separation) (Presumed Dead)

Gotham (TV) Everything Old Is New Again - G - Words: 9,722 If you had the power to go back in time, what would you hope to change? And would you do it? Those are the questions Edward is facing now he and Oswald are free for the first time in ten years. (Time Travel) (Post-Season/Series 05 Finale) (Sharing a Bed) (Jealous Edward Nygma) (Love Confessions)

Harley Quinn (Cartoon 2019) Groping For Trout In A Peculiar River - T - Words: 2,350 Riddler's attempted seduction of Penguin is curtailed but things aren't quite what they appear. (Misunderstandings) (Flirting) (Awkwardness)

Teen Titans Go! Easy Escape - T - Words: 4,835 Edward is taking Oswald out on a proper date today, whether Arkham likes it or not. (First Dates) (Museums) (Aquariums) (Theatre) (toy shop) (Pier) (Innuendo)

The Batman (Cartoon 2004) Take These Broken Wings - T - Words: 13,508 Riddler has barely escaped the Batman but his trouble might not be over as he runs into another criminal acquaintance. Its a good thing he doesn't have a crush on him or anything otherwise things might get awkward. (Injury) (Hurt/Comfort) (Developing Relationship) (Bathing/Washing) (Gay Oswald Cobblepot) (Bisexual Edward Nygma)

The Batman (Movie 2022) Boss - E - Words: 5,555 In the wake of Gotham's flooding, Ed once again turns up at the Iceberg Lounge. (Anal Sex) (Riding) (Communication)

The LEGO Batman Movie (2017)/LEGO Batman: The Movie - DC Super Heroes Unite (2013) Private Island - T - Words: 8,282 Penguin has got himself a luxury island and his fellow rogues have been invited for a visit. One in particular has an ulterior motive for going though. (Bad Flirting) (Attempted Seduction) (Riddler has a crush) (Jealousy)

[doraambrose]

When it comes to the Victim Blaming Grief coping one of the big things that makes it an issue is that he actually did it to Jason's face (in Hush as it was retconned to be Jason he said that too).

And, when Jason comes back it stops being grief for the dead, it becomes grief for the wounded. And people victim blame people who were hurt too. This is how they cope, however this coping mechanism always hurts the victim and is a genuinely bad coping mechanism that shouldn't be used. It's harmful. It's harmful to the victim and it is harmful for the other people who might be grieving. It's probably one of the most selfish coping mechanisms.

I've experienced people using this method in real life and it's rough. And it's toxic. Saying you can't criticize the way someone grieves is flawed because you are rarely the only one grieving and I personally have been harmed during a period of shared grief. And I am sure other people have been too because grief brings out the bad in people but that doesn't mean all is forgiven.

Like, imagine if Jason was just comatose and all the victim blaming happened and then Jason just woke up and found out all Bruce had been saying about him? Would Jason's feelings be justified then?

Also, saying the deceased person doesn't matter when they die disregards a lot of religious and spiritual beliefs around honoring the dead.

I feel like Jason is as justified as any other person harmed when someone copes with toxic way in being upset. Jason's death is also a traumatic thing that happened to him. Centering Bruce's feelings while disregarding Jason's as unjustified doesn't feel fair. Especially considering the incident where Bruce took Jason to Ethiopia to try to trigger Jason's memories of what brought him back without his consent.

(Sorry if this was a bit much, I've experienced a decent amount of the bad sides of grief in my life and feel strongly about it)

Okay, so I feel like I need to re answer my previous post because I was struggling to find the right words and also at work, but I think I've figured it out.

One thing to keep in mind is when we talk about feelings, grief, and emotions, there's not a set right or wrong. I also mentioned that I don't like the word justified in this case because it sounds like right or wrong. I did use it at the end, but I'll get into that here. This is a very gray area subject matter and that makes it tricky and you're never gonna find an answer that everyone agrees with because it's not really as fact based as if I said "batman wears a cape sometimes" or "dick grayson is nightwing".

The first thing that comes to mind for me is what my therapist tells me when I feel guilt over feelings. She would tell me "anything you're feeling is valid, you're allowed to be upset, angry, sad, jealous, etc. It's how you act on those feelings.. something I can't remember atm lol". So when I say jason isn't justified, I'm saying that he's allowed to be upset and angry and his feelings are valid, it's not right to actively take it out on the family and hold it against them and be sort of malicious or harmful. And i know theyve done that plus some towards him, but its important to remember that you can only control your own actions and even if someone is being toxic and harmful, that doesnt mean you should too. I think I didn't explain that right and there was some miscommunication. I also wanted to explain why I felt that jason would be angry.

As for this comment, both of these asks were right. Grief can be harmful and toxic. And before I say what I'm going to say next, keep in mind that I'm discussing grief alone and not any of the stuff post utrh that Bruce has done to jason that's harmful and abusive. This toxic kind of grief doesn't make the person a bad person. They can't help it. It's your brain going crazy to try and cope with something traumatic. When my dog died, I wanted to sue my vet, even though they didn't really so anything wrong. It's easier to have someone in front of you to blame. I'm not saying it's right or okay, but it does happen and it can be harmful, but you're not a bad person for it. (In Bruce's case, he's a bad person for all the other shit he's pulled outside of this)

I think these two asks are like at the opposite ends of this topic and I think it's something that you can meet in the middle with. So basically

Yes, grief can be toxic and harmful, but it's also very much a subconscious phenomenon and it's extremely personal and different for everyone and alot of times, people are unaware of what they're doing.

Because of that, jason can be hurt by it, he can be angry,etc. His feelings are valid, But it's not fair to activey hold that over Bruce forever, which he doesn't, this seems more like a fanon thing btw. But it also doesn't hurt to apologize afterwards.

I think when you say that the idea of not critiquing the way someone grieves is flawed, it comes off as unempathetic. Because as someone who has had to grieve alot of the past few years, it's the worst feeling. And your brain is literally scrambling to cope with it so you don't actively lose your shit and sometimes it ends up with some unhealthy Coping mechanisms. And you're usually unaware of what you're doing. I feel like you're not thinking of how the other person is feeling or what they're going through. And fair is fair, they need to see what you're feeling too and actively try to remedy things at some point, there just needs to be more patience and empathy all around and trying to remember that this person is not always intentionally being malicious.

I'm a religious person. So I see where youre coming from, but nobody said the deceased doesn't matter. I think the point was more that you don't have to worry as much about how that person is feeling or thinking because they've moved on to a better place, you should focus on self care and doing what's best for your mental health.

I am also 100% not trying to center around Bruce's feelings and discredit jasons, in fact, the last post was 100% about jasons feelings.

In summary, there's not "justified" or "right" or "wrong". It's super complicated, varies from person to person, and is a tricky subject matter. Everyone's feelings are valid and there definitely needs to be more empathy and patience on all sides, but there are still actions that have been made on both sides that aren't the best and can be hurtful or toxic. I hope this all makes sense and I worded it right :)