#things like this are infinitely frustrating but i like talking about them but have like no space to bc irl

[saturnniidae]

I bet being antiracist to not be considered 'problematic' seems a lot less appealing when you realize it actually takes work to unlearn notions you've been internalizing from basically day one and that there's not really any excuse around that

[silent-sentinels]

lays on the fucking. ground. maybe we should open commissions. so we can buy a new laptop

theres so many other funds that need money and we can still deal with this

our fucking enter and backspace key stopped working bro idk what to tell you. this is including: volume up and down buttons, brightness up and down buttons, screenshare button, 1, 3, 9, q, e, o, d, h, and now enter and backspace. even after relocating half our keys to our keypad buttons this shit is nigh unusable.

nOT TO MENTION OUR CHARGER THAT ONLY WORKS 50% OF THE TIME. god this is SO ANNOYING BUT APPARENTLY WE DONT DESERVE ANYTHING RIGHT NOW ARUGGGGGH

maybe once spring semester starts we can ask. fucking. who knows. who cares. like truly who cares. also we can't do commissions are you fucking kidding? us? with art on a deadline communicating with peoples requests through dms are you hearing yourself???

aaAAUGGGHHHH FUCKING. WEEPS.

[dont-offend-the-bees]

We need better fucking care infrastructure. I should not be trusted with anyone's care ever 💛

[1d1195]

Green Skies, Pink Grass

~2.6k words

From me: Going with another one shot for Monday. This very much jumps into the middle of a storyline that I'll never write but just wanted to post something small in between Most updates.

Warnings: jealousy, enemies(?) to lovers

Summary: It is very obvious Harry gets enjoyment out of irritating her. But not when she can't take it anymore.

“Excuse me,” she approached like she owned the table. She slid right between Harry and the girl that was talking to him. She stood at the corner of the square table made for four. But there were only two, Harry and the girl that had every right to be sitting at one of the right angles so they could be closer together.

For nearly the entire night, she watched another girl touch Harry’s arm and flirt with her eyes as they spoke. All while he leaned close and whispered God knows what. Who knew what secrets he was telling her. The stuff that she dreamed of knowing and not just figuring out from her friends or him taunting her. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“Rebecca,” she stated and looked around her intruding body so she could peek at Harry. This was ridiculous. She was talking to him and there was no reason for her to have intruded like that and get in between Harry and him. Everyone knew they didn’t like each other. Of all the people that could have taken his attention from her it couldn’t have been the girl that wanted to wring his neck.

Her backside was directly in front of Harry’s vision. He paid nearly no mind to the intrusion—almost like he expected it. In fact, he took the moment to sip his drink because while he wasn’t proud of it, he was extremely grateful for the reaction it caused from her. All night he felt her stare from across the restaurant. Her gaze bored into him. It was painful how long it took to come to this in his opinion. Now he couldn’t wait to see what she was going to do next. She didn’t even flinch as she approached; her sure-footed steps had her heels clicking across the floor with a power that made Harry’s body warm over. The confidence she had was so sexy. The only thing that could have made the current interaction better than having her perfect ass right in front of his face, would have been being able to see her pretty, angry face as she glared at the girl he was chatting with. “Can I help you?” Becca asked.

Harry smirked, grateful neither one of them could see him because he was very much looking forward to this.

“Yeah, umm…” she swallowed that swagger and confidence suddenly wavering.

Harry wasn’t hers. Not by a long shot. They argued about almost everything there was to argue about. They had opposite movie tastes. He never took her suggestion for making dinner recipes better. His driving directions to get somewhere the fastest were always different than hers. She swore he would argue the sky was green if given half the chance. They weren’t that close, but Niall was her favorite coworker and quite possibly her best friend. But that meant she had to spend an infinite amount of time with his best friend, Harry.

She could have taken all his misgivings in stride, honestly. Tt wouldn’t have been that bad nor hard to have. She liked a bit of a challenge in her life. If Harry hadn’t looked down on her the first time that they met, they might not have been on this frustrating path of annoying one another.

It was no secret that Harry was one of the most gorgeous men she had ever met. His handshake was warm and firm but that was as far as his warmth went—at least when it came to her. She wasn’t oblivious to the way his voice sounded when he talked about his mum, sister, or niece. He donated to a ton of charities and was constantly helping his friends.

It was just her.

He was cold and standoffish the day they met. It hurt. Mainly because Niall told her that she would love him, and she was excited to make a new friend. How often did someone in their late twenties make new friends?

But after their introduction and awkward silences while Niall tried to get them chatting about their similarities instead of their differences, she overheard him whispering to Niall in the kitchen while they got plates and drinks for the pizza they ordered. Only catching some of the words that included dislike, irritating, and know-it-all. She prided herself on being kind, never making anyone feel inferior, but Harry made it seem like a fault and didn’t see her that way at all.

Harry wondered where she was possibly going to go with her irritation at Becca. Only moments before the evening began, she wanted to strangle him. He could see it in her eyes and knew she truly thought about wrapping her hands around his throat because he made some comment about her not getting fucked properly in front of Niall. He smiled impishly at her as the rage filled her eyes. It made her eye twitch in that cute way of hers. The way that made him want to keep pissing her off so it would continue twitching. Part of him wanted to reach out and touch just next to her eye and hope that it would make her crazier but also so he could ease that tension all the same.

But it was clear she was lost here. There was no follow through for this moment and seeing Miss Prim & Proper discombobulated was one of Harry’s favorite kinds of sights. But even still, she didn’t deserve to be this lost. It wasn’t her fault the little envious monster took hold of her without a way out of the situation.

“Hey love,” he hummed quietly, pressed a hand on her lower back. She stepped away like he shocked her—or stabbed her. Her eyes were wild as she glanced at Harry briefly. He smiled, his lips straining a little too much to keep him from smiling mischievously—just like before they entered the restaurant. That little quirk that made her eye start to twitch just the same as well.

 That stupid dimple, that knowing look. She wanted to strangle him again.

He knew what she was feeling all too well. Fortunately, it hadn’t happened tonight, but he knew the irksome feeling that heated his stomach and chest when anyone bought her a drink or complimented her smile while he was in earshot.

It was a beautiful smile, but it made him sick to hear other people say it to her and not him.

“Do you have something to say or what? I was talking to Harry.”

Perhaps the alcohol she had ingested was cause for the bravery that resulted in her walking across the restaurant and planning to tell the girl off. But what was she supposed to say? Harry wasn’t hers. There was nothing she could say that would deter Rebecca from spending time with him. Nothing to stop Harry from spending time with Rebecca.

It seemed Harry noticed she was floundering but for once he didn’t make fun of her nor antagonize her further. Instead, without warning, there was a warm hand on the small of her back. “Kitten,” he hummed. His voice was low, directly in her ear, and full of caution. “Let’s go,” he pressed his fingers into her back in effort to get her away from the table. “Sorry, Becca, I gotta go,” he grabbed his drink, tossing the remaining sip back and settling it back on the table.

She said nothing, glaring at her feet with heated cheeks. While the woman who had taken Harry’s attention but wasn’t going to keep it smiled bitterly. “You’re really going to leave? Just because she interrupted?” Harry ignored her, rolled his eyes but not even the girl he had his hands on could see it.

Harry’s lack of response made her burn with anger more and she wished she knew why she went over to interrupt them. Harry was behind her, his body so close to hers she thought a piece of paper couldn’t fit between them. “Wow can’t even fight back—”

She started to move back for Rebecca, but Harry yanked her closer to him. Not even a molecule of air could have fit between them, before she could even take a full step. His arm was wrapped around the front of her stomach, his lips went directly to her earlobe. “M’here, kitten. She’s not worth y’time,” he assured her. “Walk,” he ordered quietly. Normally, she would fight back and tell him not to order her around. But the alcohol in her system simultaneously subdued her anger toward Harry and amplified it toward everyone else. So she walked.

She could hear the way Rebecca laughed calling her pathetic loudly to anyone that walked by. Harry snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her tightly each time he heard one of Rebecca’s taunts and the following pull of her muscles to turn around to continue her chat with her.

Once they were out of the restaurant, he continued to usher her up the road away from the offensive restaurant. There was a cool chill in the air that hadn’t been there when they entered the venue. Confident she wouldn’t make a break for it and return to give Becca a piece of her mind, Harry released her briefly.

In an instant, he pulled his jacket off and draped it over her shoulders before wrapping his arm around her waist again. He gave her a warm squeeze then walked beside her; his other hand stuffed in his pocket. They didn't speak as they walked. After a block and a half, she bit the inside of her lip. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

Harry hadn't ever heard an apology directed at him from her mouth. "Am I dead?" He murmured.

She sighed. "I don't know what came over me," she admitted.

Harry knew. He knew because he knew exactly how she was feeling. "Yeah," he nodded.

More silence followed and they just kept walking. The shoes she was wearing weren’t really conducive to a city walk but she was willing to have a blister on each toe and her heel if it meant Harry’s warm arm and a jacket that smelled like him was going to be wrapped around her. “Did you like her?” She asked.

Harry smirked. “She was fine.”

She swallowed. “I’m sorry,” she repeated.

“Kitten,” he chuckled. “She was fine, but I’d’ve much preferred you sitting next t’me all night.”

“But you don’t like me.”

Harry snorted. “Honestly, right now, I don’t. Think I could throw y’into traffic for such a remark. What are y’talking ‘bout, love? M’obsessed with you,” he rolled his eyes.

“Obsessed?”

“Obsessed.”

Her heart fluttered. She stopped walking. Mainly because her feet hurt, but also because she was floored that he admitted such a thing. After all the time she spent wondering why he taunted her and made her want to strangle him. Her voice shook as she asked her next question. Because it was mean spirited of him. “Is this a trick? Like that time Niall was setting me up on a date and you convinced me I got the date wrong, and I sat at the coffee shop for hours before—”

Harry chuckled at the memory. Proud of his handy work and grateful she didn’t go on a date with that prick (who was actually a really nice guy that probably deserved her more than Harry did). “No, s’not a trick.”

She was staring at him like he had ten heads and honestly there was nothing better than seeing her little eye twitch. “You like me?” She asked.

“Very much, kitten,” he nodded and stuffed both hands in his pockets while she processed this.

“Can we sit? These shoes are killing me,” she frowned. Harry followed her to the bench out in front of a closed café. He reached for her feet and unclipped the strap from one ankle then the other.

“You really like me?” She asked again while Harry untied his dress shoes. Harry had this thing about always wearing two pairs of socks. It alleviated blisters, of his own dress shoes and there had been countless times Gemma hated her own high heels after a long night at a family wedding. He slid off the top pair and put them on her feet without fanfare.

“I really like you,” he assured her.

“But you...” She frowned, her stomach aching at the kindness he was showing her. Finally. The nice thing about the cute little sock thing he was doing? She had never seen him do it for anyone else. This was a treat for her as far as she knew. He retied his shoes and settled her feet back to the sidewalk. He held her shoes beside him on the bench.

“I what?” His smile was adorable, mischievous as always, dimple appearing cutely in his left cheek, but it didn’t make her eye twitch and even though he missed it, he liked her soft expression, analyzing him more.

“You said I was a know-it-all. And... irritating.”

“You are irritating,” she glared at him so cutely, he wanted to take a picture of her and make it his phone background and print it on a poster to hang on the ceiling above his bed. “When did I call y’irritating?”

“When you met me. You said you disliked me."

He tilted his head. “Do y’mean at Niall’s?” She nodded. He was clearly processing that and tried to think back. She was finally quiet, while he thought. Didn't try to further their discussion because part of her thought she would turn it into an argument just by accident. “Is that why y’always keep me a foot away from you? Why y’never let me get a word in? Why y’argue with everything I say? Swear y’would tell me the grass is pink jus’ t’argue,” She didn’t dare dignify that with a response. Or that she felt the same way. Harry tugged her legs back up and shifted her so she draped across his lap. His arm around her back while her bum warmed his thigh. He brought his hand slowly up her leg, over the socks he had put on her that looked ridiculous with her dress. His fingers skimmed over her knee and up her thigh while his eyelids hooded his gaze as he followed the path of his hand. He tickled her skin, his fingers circling her wrist in her own lap before he brought it to his shoulder. Then he brought his fingers to her face, cupped her cheek in his palm. “I’m going t’kiss y’now,” he murmured. “Because m’not going t’explain how ridiculous y’are for thinking the first time I met you I called you irritating, or that I disliked you...or thought you were a know-it-all.”

She blushed. “Oh...” she swallowed feeling woozy Harry's face was so close to hers. He smelled so good. He looked so good.

“Don’t y’think it was much more likely I called Niall an irritating know-it-all that I would fall so hard for you and I disliked how right he was?” She remained silent, dropped her gaze again, until Harry tilted her chin up once more. “You are irritating,” he murmured his mouth a breath away from hers. He could feel the warmth of her lips pulling an invisible string to his. Like he had already touched them without touching them. “But I love when y’irritate me,” he assured her and closed that final breath between their lips.

The sky could be green. The grass could be pink. Harry was done arguing with her about it.

--

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[seduzist]

one more time

wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary. a failed marriage couldn’t stop you both to have a fun night, right?

cw. a little angst, smut, g!p! wanda and reader are milfs lol, drinking, smut, dirty talk, degradation, basically porn with plot. i wrote this really sleepy when i wake up i will proofread, sorry.

you liked to think of yourself as a great, great mother, and hardly someone would say the opposite, you only lets your twins eat candy on weekends, always do your best at birthday parties and were the most caring and lovingly as a mother can be without getting weird or overprotective. 

but on the last week you felt you really needed some time with adults, not that you didn’t loves with your whole heart every second you spent with your kids, but you really needed to have a casual conversation with someone who doesn’t believe in santa anymore, or that doesn’t ask you how much is 100 plus infinite, or you would lose it. 

so, when your coworker asked you to go for a coffee after your shift you thought twice about the idea of call your ex-wife and ask her if she could catch the twins after school and maybe take them to the park for an hour, it couldn’t be that bad, could it? that’s what you did.

kate bishop, the coworker who invited you, was very funny, it was clear that she was very nervous being by your side which you find cute and made you feel confident, but you just couldn’t enjoy the moment more than a little bit, you couldn’t see her as someone who could really make you feel anything, at all.

after all the talk you got back home frustrated, texting wanda if everything was fine.

[you]

hey, everything’s fine? 

on my way to home rn

[wanda]

yep, we’re at the park 🛝

i’m gonna take them for some pizza 🍕🍕🍕

idk when we’re coming back but i let u know 

😉

you laugh at wanda’s need to use so many emojis in every text, but thanked her in your mind to let you have more time for yourself, so when you got home you made sure to make it worth, you took a nice, long and warm bath and served yourself some wine, enjoying the complete absence of sounds of little steps running on the ground and the constant screams of “mom!” followed by a complaining about a toy or about it’s brother. 

it was very relaxing and relieving but you thought about how it would be when they got back and started the chaos all over again.

fortunately, that didn’t happen, when wanda got back to your house the twins were dead asleep in the car, she only had time to call you before you open the door and see her carrying both of their unconscious little bodies to inside, each one of them resting their head in one of her shoulders. when she got close enough you helped her, taking carefully Tommy in your arms, making sure none of them would wake up, and guiding her to their room upstairs. when you and wanda done putting them in bed and cover them up with a spider man and a batman blanket, you made your way downstairs silently.

when you turned around to take a look at her, suddenly you felt something that you didn’t know exactly what was it. maybe it was the alcohol running in your system - it’s been so long since you’ve got drunk - maybe it was all the frustrations and thoughts you’ve had about her the entire day, maybe it was your fertility period or the fact you didn’t have any sex for the last three months. but wanda looked so, so hot.

with a slight blue jeans and a black shirt, her casual clothes didn’t have anything special as well as her face, with the makeup she always wears, but there was something really different, it was probably in your eyes.

not that this really mattered, because you didn’t even remember how it started, all you could really memorize is how her lips felt against yours and how her hands felt running all over your body, reminding you of the times you were still together.

reminds you of everything, your first time at the bathroom of her fraternity party, that was inexperienced, desperate and hungry, made you discover a few things about her and about yourself. the first time after your wedding, when she made sure to be the most intimate, romantic and loving night you’ve ever dreamed about before the honeymoon. the make ups after a fight, rough, careless, wild, it used to be the most common in the last months of the marriage.

somehow you felt it all over again when you kissed, not knowing exactly how it started, but just like the first time, you were desperate for more.

wanda’s hands reached the hem of your pajamas’ shirt, the silk was thrown over the floor exposing your breasts, the warm skin being such a sight for her eyes, and she wasted no time in closing her mouth around one of your nipples, with both arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

you could feel your pussy almost dripping, it’s been long since the last time you had anything, but now wanda was right there, and she could give you everything, her mouth on your breast felt good but you craved more.

“i want you, now.” you whispered, putting your hands on her cheeks and gently bringing her up for another kiss, in a desperate attempt to make her understand how much you needed her inside of you, but wanda never failed to that before and the cocky smirk she gave you definitely showed she was not about to let that be the first time.

soon, you were sat naked at the counter of your kitchen with her body between your legs, taking off her black shirt and taking just a second or two to admire her body, perfect just like you remembered, her perky breasts begging to be touched, but both of you were so eager. wanda looked like she didn’t had sex in a while as well as you, she was rock hard without much stimulation and when she put her jeans down along with her boxers, your mouth watered at the sight.

looked a little bit bigger than you remembered and made you feel scared for a moment, you knew that would hurt despite the time without it, but a small part of you wanted the pain.

“i missed you so much, y/n.” wanda said, a little breathless, catching your attention to her face again. her strong hands pulled your legs around her waist and her throbbing cock made contact with your center.

you both moans at the contact, so needy for each other, wanda takes one hand to her cock, jerking it off before positioning at your drenched opening, making sure to look at your face while sliding the head in.

the woman’s eyes lightened up when you opened your mouth and let out a quite loud moan, beating your lashes at her with doe eyes, begging her to fuck you without saying a single word, and that’s what she did.

putting a hand above your mouth to keep you quiet and the other holding your thigh to keep you in place, she started moving her hips, thrusting forward and making you let out moans that she would die to hear but this wasn’t the time. your nails sunk into her back at the painful feeling of being stretched out by her shaft, but still you enjoyed it.

“didn’t you missed it? being stretched out by me, hm?” her husky breathless voice in your ear sounded sinful and dirty and you immediately shaked your head as yes, letting out another moan that was muffled by her palm “you’re so tight, fuck, i forgot how tight you were.”

after her last inch entered you, which you take proud of being able to take without asking her to go slower, she takes her hand out of your mouth, immediately kissing your lips while your pussy adjusted her size, her tongue slipped inside your mouth, you tested like red wine and your hands find its way to flood her breasts, you felt her hard nipples against your palms and wanda had to break the kiss to let out a little moan at that, but soon her mouth were on yours again and her hips were moving.

the sensation of her cock going in and out of you was like heaven, her heavy breath against your lips while she tried to kiss you and swallow your moans was so, so intoxicating, she was all over you and you didn’t want this to end.

“you feel so good, you’re so good– fuck, wanda!” you did your best to whisper these words instead of screaming them at the top of your lungs, but at every thrust of her hips her cock reached deeper inside of you, stretching your insides in a delicious way.

“you missed being my little slut, didn’t you?” she said against your lips, her pupils so dilated to the point the green in her eyes almost disappeared. you agreed with your head, scared that if you tried to say something it would be too loud and wake the twins who still sleeps safe and sound in their room.

when her movements became messy and desperate, she brings one hand to your pussy, stimulating your clit in circles with two fingers and that’s how you knew she was close, you closed your eyes, feeling your own orgasm coming, the knot on your stomach getting tighter as wanda’s fingers became faster, as well as her cock inside you.

“cum for me.” she breathed out against your lips and you happily did.

your back arched and your eyes rolled in your head while your shaking legs pulled wanda even closer, if that was possible, the tight of your pussy around wanda’s cock while you came on her made her almost cum inside you, but she couldn’t and she knew, so she did her best to hold it until you finished.

when the last drop of your cum coated her cock she took it out of you, making you feel empty but the sight of her jerking off and cumming all over your belly while calling your name was enough to please you for now.

both of you panted heavily, unable to speak for two or three minutes, wanda rested her head on your neck, while you caressed her hair slightly and for a moment it didn’t felt like a mistake, it felt like pure love again.

wanda grabbed a napkin across the counter to clean your belly and took you to the couch, sitting comfortably by your side and then was your turn to rest your head on her shoulder. your breaths were still heavy and your legs weak, your sweaty bodies fitted each other perfectly.

“we have to put our clothes on.” wanda said after a while, and you agreed, but none of you moved.

the situation would probably be awkward for a lot of couples, but wasn’t for the two of you, maybe it was the intimacy you get after 8 years of marriage but it sounded just like casual conversation, except that there’s no clothes and no inhibitions between you.

“we’ll never do this again, this was an only time thing.” you said calmly, looking up at her.

“yeah, an only time thing.” she agreed, but if you wasn’t so tired to read her eyes you would know that deep inside she wanted nothing more to be with you again.

[p0orbaby]

Slow Motion Mountain Climber

summary: leah signs up for pilates, what could go wrong?

warnings: none

a/n: based on this request !

word count: 981

-

Leah texts you on a Tuesday morning, right before your alarm, like she does whenever something has gone terribly wrong in her life. Like when she found out gluten was in soy sauce, or when she discovered she might have to use that godforsaken 6 train in New York. This time, it's a message that reads: Just signed up for Pilates. You may never see me again.

You roll your eyes, groaning at the incoming rant that's sure to follow. Leah's the kind of person who only does new things for one of two reasons: someone dared her, or she's trying to prove to herself that she is still young and can get away with eating three chocolate croissants in a single sitting. You suspect it’s a combination of both. She’s mentioned something about trying to build a "strong core," which you assume is code for "I'm slowly being bullied into this by the fact that all my teammates have six-packs and I have a soft spot for bread."

At 7:45 AM, just as you’re pouring coffee, Leah calls. You pick up on the third ring because you’re not a monster.

“I’m going to die,” she says, without so much as a hello

“Bold start to the day,” you reply. “Anything specific, or is it just a general feeling?”

“Pilates,” she says, and it sounds like a curse word. “Do you know what that is?”

You almost spit out your coffee because, yes, you know what Pilates is. You’re not sure what’s more shocking: that Leah doesn’t know or that she actually followed through on signing up.

“Yeah, Leah, I know what Pilates is”

“Well, it’s hell. No one told me it was this hard. And the instructor—she’s, like, smiling at me while she’s killing me. How are you supposed to trust someone who's trying to make you do something called a 'teaser' while she grins like a lunatic?”

You can picture it now. Leah, in the middle of a room full of people who've been doing this since their nannies signed them up for ballet at age three, contorting herself on a reformer like it’s some kind of medieval torture device. Meanwhile, the instructor—probably named something like Tiffani with an 'i'—is telling her to “engage her core,” as if Leah didn’t already have a job that required her to do that for 90 minutes straight, several times a week.

“Did you die, though?”

“Almost. My legs were shaking. My abs—I didn’t even know I had abs. Why does anyone do this willingly? I’ve literally been fouled by Fran Kirby, and that was less painful”

“Maybe you should stick to yoga”

“Yoga!” Leah scoffs. “I can do yoga. That’s just stretching and pretending you’re one with the universe or whatever”

You let her have that one because there’s no use arguing with someone who once mistook a meditation class for an excuse to nap in public.

Leah continues, “This class, though—it's not natural. They make you put your legs in straps. Straps! Like a harness, but for your feet. And then they expect you to lift them while you're suspended in the air like some sort of flying squirrel”

You’ve taken Pilates before, so you know exactly what she’s talking about, but you can’t help but laugh. Leah, in her infinite wisdom, probably signed up for the most advanced class because, as she said once, “Go big or go home.” Now, she’s paying for it.

“Maybe you should ask to start in a beginner class,” you suggest, knowing full well she won’t.

“Yeah, no. I already told them I’m an athlete. Can’t back down now. But I swear, if one more person tells me to ‘breathe through it,’ I’m going to punch them in the face”

You imagine the looks on the faces of her Pilates classmates as she throws a fit in the middle of a serene, candle-lit studio. You’ve seen Leah frustrated before, but this is a new level of agitation, and it’s all directed at something she willingly signed up for.

“Maybe it’s good for you,” you offer, “builds character”

“Yeah, and scars. On my pride”

You laugh again because you can see where this is going. Leah, who tackles challenges like they’re personal vendettas, is going to keep going back to that class until she can hold a plank longer than anyone else, even if it kills her. Or, more likely, until she finds something else to distract her, like knitting or extreme ironing.

"I’m just saying," she adds, after a pause, "if I end up with a six-pack, it’s because I earned it. None of this ‘strong core’ bullshit. I want abs of steel. Like, I want to be able to crack a walnut between my ribs”

You’re crying with laughter now, imagining Leah doing sit-ups in front of a mirror at home, testing her progress with various hard-shelled nuts.

“Don’t worry, babe,” you say, trying to calm yourself down. “If you do get abs of steel, I’ll make sure to bring walnuts everywhere we go”

“Good,” she replies, and you can hear her finally start to laugh along with you. “You’re on walnut duty. And if this all goes horribly wrong and I never make it out of Pilates alive, just know it was the straps that did me in”

You shake your head, still smiling. “You’ll be fine. But maybe next time, start with a class that doesn’t sound like it was designed by someone who secretly hates people”

Leah sighs dramatically. “Noted. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to spend the rest of the day lying flat on the floor and cursing Joseph Pilates”

“You do that, babe,” you say, hanging up as you imagine her sprawled out on the carpet, texting you updates about how her muscles are rebelling against her. And you can’t wait to read every single one.

[gothamite-rambler]

Gordon meeting the 1st Robin

Batman: Commissioner Gordon, I'm here.

Gordon: Finally—

Gordon noticed the young black-haired boy next to Batman, dressed in a bright and colorful hero suit.

Gordon (pointing at the kid): Who's that?

Batman: The child next to me?

Gordon: No, the Bat-Signal. Yes, I mean the kid!

Batman looked down at his Robin, who is mesmerized by the bright lights of the Bat-Signal. Batman turned his to face Gordon.

Robin (waving): Hi!

Gordon (slightly concerned): Hey, little kid. Oh, you're so cute. I'm just going to talk to your guardian for a second.

Gordon looked directly into Batman's eyes with a judgmental stare.

Batman (unaware how odd this looks): What? Is it the costume I gave him because that was his idea.

Gordon: Oddly enough, that's not my issue; he looks adorable in it.

Robin smiled while swaying back and forth.

Robin: Awww, thank you!

Gordon (frowning): Batman, I can forgive you for many things. The numerous parking tickets that you haven't paid for your Batmobile, the fact that I had to install a giant Bat-Signal on the building and you have not paid me the rest of the money for that yet, and even the time that you hit a fire hydrant and left a note saying ‘sorry'.

Batman (interrupting): I am sorry about that, by the way.

Gordon: Doesn't fix the fact that you haven't paid me for that either! Not the point, why is there a precious child next to you?

Batman: Well... I have a sidekick now.

Gordon: You have a seven-year-old!

Robin (offended): Hey, I am 8!

Robin held up both hands with four fingers on each of them.

Batman: He's 8 and an orphan. Not as weird.

Gordon took a deep breath, trying to accept that this is reality.

Gordon: I should not have to explain to you how that is not better! That's infinitely weirder, not going to lie.

Batman (hiding his embarrassment over his bad wording): I am now becoming aware of how this looks, but he is legally adopted by me. That is all you need to know.

Gordon (taking a deep breath): I have so many follow-up questions, and as a cop, I need you to answer a few of them. I won't be mad if they don't lead me to arresting you because I do kind of like you.

Batman (taken back): Oh... Thanks. Do I have to tell you, though?

Gordon (sternly): Yes.

Batman (relenting): I didn't kidnap him. I legally adopted him after his parents died, through no fault of my own—I realize how weird that sounds, but it's true. I took the kid in, and he's my... son—ch—wa-sidekick! Yes. It's not weird! It's not. He just needed a home. He's a good fighter too. Right, Robin?

Robin (confidently): I can do flips and tricks!

Batman: Yes, he can do flips and tricks. I like him so far; he’s... he’s neat.

Batman patted Robin on the head. Robin smiled giggling.

Gordon (smiling softly): Aww... Dang it, that is cute. Just don't get him hurt, okay?

Batman (sheepishly): Mm hm... Definitely did not have to deal with him getting eaten by a Venus flytrap. Twice. Yeah, we dealt with Poison Ivy earlier this week.

Gordon removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes in frustration.

Gordon: Right... He's walking across the edge of the building, by the way.

Batman (not turning around): Yep, he has a lot of energy.

Robin: This is awesome!

Batman spotted the child flipping on the ledge effortlessly. The new father groaned.

Batman (monotone): I'll go get him.

Batman reached out to grab Robin, but the lively young boy leaped off the ledge and darted away, laughter trailing behind him. Gordon observed the scene in confusion as the normally reserved Batman sprinted after his mischievous youthful partner.

Gordon (wistful): My kid is hyper like that... I hope she got her milk tonight.

Gordon wiped an imaginary tear from his eye.

Batman (trying to grab his son): Robin, stop running!

Robin: No!

Batman: Dang it, child! Stop!

Robin: No! I want to play!

Batman: The night of patrolling isn't over yet.

Robin: I'm hungry!

Batman: I got you McDonald's earlier!

Robin (demanding): I want more McDonald's!

Gordon (chuckling): You get used to it. Tell him you'll punish him if he doesn't listen.

Batman stopped running, realizing that this could work.

Batman (sternly): Robin, if you don't stop running, I will make sure you have no cookies for dessert at dinner tomorrow!

Robin stopped running, huffed, and went back to Batman's side. The little hero crossed his arms, pouting.

Batman: Thank you, kiddo.

Batman patted the boy on the head again. Robin giggled and hugged the man's waist, surprising the adult hero.

Gordon (smiling): Okay... I'm not too worried about this anymore.

Second Robin

Third Robin

[wordsinhaled]

I rewatched the confession scene again recently, and Charles' eyes just after Edwin confesses to him say everything, honestly.

Not when he still thinks Edwin might be joking, or calling them back to mythology. Once Charles is done playing it off, once Edwin's assured him he's serious, once he's said, "Charles, I'm in love with you. As more than a friend, I'm afraid," with that resolute anguish in his voice, and it's clear he's telling a truth so honest, so deep that it's tearing him apart to say it, but to leave it unsaid is equally unbearable.

Charles' eyes then.

Charles has this thing he does with his eyes, probably unconscious, when he's being real with his emotions or feeling them in a big way - he darts his eyes up to the ceiling. He does it a few other times, like when he's talking to Edwin about how he and Crystal have decided not to try a relationship, and again when he's giving his response to Edwin's confession ("I can't say I'm, like, in love with you back—" his eyes go up).

Doing this is also a way to hold back welling tears, to try to keep them from falling - and it looks like that's exactly what's happening to Charles just after Edwin confesses. He's overcome with emotion when he first looks at Edwin. He's trying to hold back his tears, and so he tries to glance up at the ceiling instead; he blinks quickly to keep them back; he looks to the side, everywhere except at Edwin, because if he keeps looking at Edwin just then he's going to cry.

Because it's Edwin. Edwin's in love with him. And in that moment you can see in Charles' eyes how the hugeness of that—it closes in on him. And it's two things:

ONE: He's just seen Edwin torn apart, and torn apart again, over and over. He's seen firsthand the abject terror and pain Edwin's endured here, he's seen the pile of Edwin's corpses; and the real Hell for Charles, what he had to see before he could really see the rest, was Edwin's suffering. He understands why Edwin's been playing the suffering Olympics with startling clarity. It's fucking horrifying, the idea of this happening to Edwin, and the evidence of it there, mere feet from him - he's confronted with it viscerally. He could hardly stand it, was already brought to tears by it when he first realized exactly what Edwin's torture was, crouching with Edwin there in that hallway. There were tears in his eyes then. For Edwin's pain, suffering, fear, for how diminished and Edwin was here in this awful place, for the unfairness of it - and he couldn't cry then, because he had to focus on getting them out of there.

He's here to rescue Edwin. His Edwin. Prim and proper and fussy Edwin, sharp-tongued, brilliant, frustrating and so fucking perfectly wonderful, all starched collars and arched eyebrows and set habits, and his little infinite notebook with the painstakingly drawn map of Hell in it that led Charles right to him. Edwin, who means safety to Charles, Edwin whom he knows like the breathing he doesn't need anymore, Edwin, all of whose tells Charles has memorized. Edwin who for 70 years dealt with this quietly, before ever meeting Charles, running scared and covered in his own blood for decades, clawing his own way out with no one, no Charles to come for him, no expectation of a rescuer.

And the first thing he'd done after escaping this horror show the first time was to bring Charles a lantern when he was cold and scared, and read him gently to his quiet, easy, peaceful death. A death so soft Charles didn't notice it until after it happened. How could that be the death Charles got, when Edwin had got this one, over and over and over again, and not once but twice? How is the universe fair?

Edwin loves him. Charles already knew that. He loves Edwin too. It's clear in everything they do for one another and has been for three decades. But Edwin is in love with him. Somehow, he's in love with Charles. Of course Charles is going to cry. How can he hold all of that? How can he hold being loved by such a person? How can he not be overwhelmed? he has to look away. Edwin is too bright.

And that takes us to TWO: He's gone and made Edwin love him, somehow. How did he do it? How did he slip up, make a mistake like that? What in him had been loveable? What had drawn Edwin in? And can't Edwin see how dangerous he is to love?

Now that Edwin's found something in him worthy of even more love than all the love he already gave him - something to be in love with - now Charles has doomed him. How doesn't Edwin see that? He's looking at Charles like he sees him in some sort of transcendental way, like Charles has the answer to every question Edwin could ever ask, and Charles doesn't even know how to answer the most basic one: He has no idea how to be in love back. Where to start. How can Edwin trust him with his heart when Charles hardly trusts himself?

How can the universe gift Charles with Edwin's love?

[just-cofffee]

The annoyance was evident through that peaceful and dull face that always seemed to have, alluding to how tedious the conversation they were having seemed.

"Just tell her," Suguru repeated for the fourteenth time.

A disheartened sigh escaped Satoru's lips. "You don't understand, it's not that easy."

"Why?" Suguru's voice already had a hint of frustration.

"You still ask why? Do you think I can go there and say, 'Hey Y/n, what I want to say is that I've never seen you simply as a friend. From the moment I saw you, I knew you were the only thing I wanted in my life. Your beauty has captivated my eyes and made me ignore all other women. The softness of your skin is my deepest longing, and the light in your eyes and the grace with which you move completely envelop me. My life has taken on an absolute meaning from the moment your presence blessed my eyes. For me, your mere existence is like a balm that calms my soul and ignites a fire in my heart. Every time I see your sweet smile and receive your attention, I feel like the whole world fades away and only you and I exist. It infuriates me to the core when some idiot approaches you, because I know none of them are worthy of your brilliant sense of humor, your infinite kindness, and your captivating charisma. Although I feel selfish desiring that only I can be the one you give your love and attention to, I can't help it, because you are the most valuable and precious thing in my life. I don't know if I'm worthy of you, but I'm willing to fight and show you every day that I'm capable of loving you with an unwavering passion. These words are just a desperate attempt to describe the magnitude of what I feel for you, but I know in the deepest part of my being that my love for you transcends words and is eternal.'". His chest rose and fell rapidly as if he hadn't breathed while talking about Y/n.

"Satoru…," Suguru murmured with a slightly mocking tone.

"She doesn't like me, she's going to tell me she likes Nanami. She's always been very close to him, and one day Shoko told me that Y/n had a crush on him and-"

In the midst of his despair, Suguru interrupted with a mocking tone, mentioning Satoru's name. This made Satoru stop and look at him confusedly. Suguru nodded behind Satoru with his chin, and at that moment, Satoru paled even more. A feeling of frost traveled down his back and settled in his stomach, causing a deep discomfort. She had heard everything.

"You also like me, Toru."

[signedkoko]

SPOILERS?? MAYBE

Wife!reader waiting for Alastor in his Radio tower after the final big battle, knowing he'd go there and waiting for him there, Scolding him and angry at him, Talking about how worried they were and how they saw everything. But then it turns fluffy at the end :3

Alastor X Reader [Romantic]

In which you lost track of him during the battle, so you wait in his tower hoping he made it. Reader is female.

The battle had been planned over the series of a day, everyone practicing and learning how to defend themselves

Being an overlord and promised watcher over the hotel, Alastor was of course given a tall order; he was to take care of Adam

While he acted as if it were nothing and swept it by as if it'd be another easy task, you weren't so confident in his abilities against such a powerful angel

Not that you didn't trust him, just that it's scary to think he'd be doing it all alone

Though you offered support, he outright refused it

" Can't have you in the way! You are just so distracting! "

Yeah right

As much as you wanted to protest, you knew he wouldn't budge on it

But as Adam parted the battle and Alastor was nowhere to be seen, you assumed the worst along with everyone else

He'd been killed so easily? Certainly not, would he really give up his life like that? Your anger boiled up in you as you fought, and it carried you past your limit until everything was rubble

While you had the chance, you quickly whisked away to his tower, which now lay broken in the soil, though still partially intact

You had to kick the door a few times before it finally broke open, having been blocked by some debris

You hoped to all gods that you'd see him in there, but it was as silent and empty as you dreaded

You figure Husk would have said something if he felt his chains come loose, though, so you crawled up into the chair which he normally sat to broadcast and waited

And waited

Until finally, your looped prayer was answered when he came limping through the hatch

You could tell he was panicking or overwhelmed; you weren't entirely sure what, but you scrambled towards him

" Alastor! You're okay- "

" Get away from me. "

You stopped in your tracks, staring at him with bewilderment

He'd never sounded like that, especially not towards you, it frustrated you beyond belief that he refused you at a time like this

" No, no! I thought you died out there! All because you thought you could handle things on your own when you clearly cannot! "

Hot tears welled in the corner of your eyes, the silence only intruded by creaking, and the sound of your hissing breaths

It took him a moment, but the overlord straightened himself out, a shaky breath leaving his lips as he soaked in your reply

It wasn't fair of him to say that to you, and you were right, but something in him felt so shaky; his smile felt more forced than ever; he felt as if his wings had been clipped

" Dearest, you know me better than anyone, but unfortunately, there are things I cannot tell you—even if I want to. "

You knew he was bound by someone and chained, and as he spoke with such a lost desperation, you couldn't help but cry harder as the guilt consumed you

" I'm just glad you're alive. "

While you stood with what felt like an infinite space between you, the crackle in the air started to come back to him, which followed with his arms reaching out to you

You found yourself burying yourself in them, clinging to his shirt until your knuckles strained, and you cried

With no one else around to witness it, he wrapped his arms around you, ensuring you were secure

He'd do whatever it took to find a way out, so he could promise you an eternity by his side

Author's Note - Finally got to your req 🖤 Its so lovely to see you in my inbox, Lilith!! Thank you for requesting 🥂

[starry-bi-sky]

Cannon Danny, Danyal Au and CFAU met, waht does each other think of the other and do they get along?

I'VE TALKED ABOUT THIS BEFORE WITH FRIENDS IN DMS! WOOO I'M GLAD YOU ASKED! beCAUSE.

Cfau Danny and Canon Danny get along, but Danyal and Canon abso-fucking-lutely do not. It's hillarious. Danyal is appalled that this fucking white boy is another version of him -- that Al Ghul arrogance and pride really shines through here, you can’t get rid of all of it.

Cfau Danny is a sleeper agent, honestly. I'm putting all three of them around the 15 age range because any younger and CFAU won't be as Sleeper Agent. Him and Canon get along pretty well because they’re both pretty similar to each other when CFAU's not in active grief. CFAU is a bit rough around the edges, and canon is surprised by his smoking habit and sharp tongue, but he’s a relatively friendly dude. Just snarky and no-nonsense at times, and intolerant of bullshit.

However the moment a ghost fight starts?? BAM. he shifts into a house of horrors who can and will rip out your throat with his teeth. Banshee boi haha. Canon is floating there all “???? HUH???” watching as Danyal and CFAU full on tackle the opposition.

Canon Danny watches in 4k as Danyal hunts Skulker down mercilessly and tears open the “damn poacher’s” suit with his bare hands. Vlad is only safe because he isn't showing his face (yet).

Frankly all of canon’s rogues are gonna have a blast meeting CFAU and Danyal. They’re both two different flavors of unhinged violence, and they’re on the opposite side of the spectrum. One is an elegant storm of blades with years of fine-tuned practice, and the other is the brutality of the backstreets and Gotham’s cruelty; messy, bloody, and merciless.

Canon and Danyal will eventually start getting along, but they’re pretty — well, correction, Danyal is pretty hostile to canon at first. Its a combination of tension, stress, and frustration with canon and what Danyal perceives as canon’s incompetence. Danyal struggles to understand how canon is anyway a version of him beyond the name and halfa status. He starts understanding better when he sees Phantom fighting and sees his resourcefulness and quick thinking.

I have this funny mental image of the three Dannys all in the quad at school (with Sam and Tucker). Danyal is sitting on the table giving off Major Gargoyle vibes, warding off Dash and other bullies through pure "Little Orphan Tom Riddle" Energy alone, while CFAU is standing off to the side with Canon showing him how to throw a proper punch. Sam and Tucker are staring at Danyal, or they're just casually eating their lunch.

Dash isn't going near Danyal with a ten foot pole, but he'll try his chances with Sleeper Agent CFAU who, despite the "edgy" smoking thing and more alternative style, acts and looks almost the same way "Fenturd" does. He gets socked in the jaw the moment he goes over and grabs CFAU's shirt, and CFAU releases the full verbal force of Crime Alley's fist down unto him.

----

To properly answer your question:

Canon Danny: Thinks CFAU is pretty cool, and views him as kind of like a cooler, terrifying version of him. He's off-put by the smoking thing and totally thrown off by CFAU being a banshee. He's only heard from word-of-mouth about them, and it sounds like a shitty existence to be in permanent grief. He's glad he's never had to fight one.

If this is purely canon Danny and not DPxDC adjacent-canon Canon Danny, then he's glad that Gotham doesn't exist in his world because holy fuck that place sounds like the home of nightmares. But he also kinda wishes there was a Jason in his world, the guy sounded like a really good friend if CFAU is to be believed, and Danny needs more of those in the world. He's infinitely more grateful that Dan is nothing like how Rath sounds. Because Rath sounds like something straight out of an apocalypse movie. (Granted, Dan could be argued to be the same, but he gives off more 'generic supervillain' vibes.)

He thinks Danyal is an asshole at first who needs to get that stick out of his ass, along with his head. But once they start getting along, he finds him rather funny and enjoys his dry wit, along with CFAU's. He's unnerved by Danyal's willingness to kill if necessary, but he admires his dedication and love for his little brother (if Danyal brings him up). He knows he'd be in the same boat with Jazz or Ellie if he was in Danyal's shoes. He recognizes that their core fundamentals ring the same, even if the both of them tend to show it differently.

CFAU Danny: Thinks Canon is pretty cool too. Is thrown off and very unsettled by the idea that Jason might not exist in this world, and that he and this other Danny aren't friends. He genuinely just. cannot comprehend the idea that well, and if he thinks about it too hard he's going to go into a Banshee-Grade Level Grief Spiral and nobody is gonna wanna see that. Soothes his own nerves by telling himself that this other him will meet Jason eventually.

Kinda thinks Danyal is also a jerk, but he recognizes that it comes from a place of fear and general self-defense. He's seen other kids do similar stuff in crime alley where they completely close themselves off from other people -- hell, he does it. It's a safety mechanism, so he's more empathetic with him. They're not buddy-buddy with each other at first, but they're certainly not hostile like Danyal is with Canon. Is entirely baffled and thrown off by the fact that Danyal is related to Bruce fucking Wayne when Danyal tells them about his brother Damian. Can't help but ask about Jason and if he's alive, and is insanely jealous but so happy when Danyal confirms that he is.

Danyal Al Ghul: Homie hates this fucking white boy at first. Canon Danny's general playful behavior and inexperience drives him up a wall because he's incredibly tense and in an alternate dimension. He unintentionally slips back into a League Training mindset, and criticizes Danny's every move during a fight. He eventually apologizes, but just like his father, it's like pulling teeth because he's emotionally constipated. Canon asks Danyal if he was in pain while saying anything, Danyal readily admits to yes, he was. But not because he wasn't sincere about it. Afterwards, Canon still kinda annoys him, but once DAnyal reframes his mindset into viewing him more like a civilian and being more like Ella, rather than being an alternate version of himself, his mistakes become easier to bear.

likes CFAU! They both took one look at each other and thought "wow there is something Fucking Wrong With You" and instantly shared solidarity in that. CFAU is still a sloppy fighter in Danyal's eyes, but he recognizes his own bias, and at least CFAU is ruthless and swift with it compared to Canon. He silently.. mourns??? pays respects?? He Has Somber Emotions about CFAU being a banshee, and offers him basically the Danyal Equivalent of "that's rough, buddy". He's very weirded out about how neither of these Daniels are related to his father, and are not Damian's brother. Has no idea who this "Rath" and "Dan" are because he doesn't (to his knowledge) have an alternate evil self.

[chvoswxtch]

part six: the final girl

[series masterlist] | [previous part]

pairing: billy russo x fem!reader

summary: you get to choose your own ending.

warnings: swearing, mentions of gore, explicit sexual content (minors dni), knife play, billy infinitely being a cocky lil shit, the mask stays on ;)

word count: 5k

a/n: and that is a wrap on spooky slutty season. I want to once again thank y'all for letting me have fun with this, and for having fun with me. i've always wanted to do something like this, and it warms my spooky slutty heart that y'all liked it. now, without further ado, let's give the people what they came for. ;) as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

“You.”

Billy kept his hands held up in surrender as he watched you grab the bloodied award and rise to your feet, your jaw clenched as you grit that word out with pure hostility. The fire he could see burning in your eyes was exhilarating.

“I can explain-”

“Explain? Explain what? You murdered them-”

“I did it for you.”

Billy’s words caught you off guard. He said it so calmly, and with such conviction. A crease of perplexity settled between your brows, and you stared at him in outrage and disbelief.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I brought him here.”

Billy slowly lowered his hands to his sides, keeping his eyes locked on you. He didn’t make a move to come closer, not yet. Roman’s words from earlier echoed in your head. 

Last week, I got a picture of you with two words. New York.

Billy was the one who sent him the picture. Billy was the one who told Roman where you were. White hot rage bubbled within you once again, and you gripped the award in your hand as you took a step closer, screaming at him.

“Why the fuck would you do that?”

Billy didn’t flinch at your outburst. He didn’t take a step backwards. He didn’t physically react at all.

“Because you needed it.”

All you could do was stare at Billy in convoluted incredulity and anger. He was making the whole thing sound so simple, so logical, like he was looking at it through rose colored glasses. Taking in the look on your face and the fact that you seemed speechless, Billy took a cautious step forward and spoke calmly.

“He’s dead, sweetheart. You never have to worry about lookin’ over your shoulder again. You’re free.”

“Free? You killed Adam. God, you killed Derek and Annie, you almost killed me-”

Billy immediately shook his head no and cut you off.

“No. I was never gonna hurt you. Look, I'm sorry for scarin’ you, and I’m sorry you did get hurt, but I had to convince the police it was him after you. I didn’t see another way to do this. And look at you. Look how strong it’s made you.”

Billy’s dark brown eyes roved over your figure appreciatively, staring at you almost in awe, the ghost of a proud smile gracing the edge of his lips. There was a glint in his gaze when he met your eyes, and you could see a complete lack of remorse for what he’d done. There was no guilt, no shame, nothing.

“You’re psychotic.”

Billy took another step forward, reaching out to take the bloodied award away from you, tossing it onto the floor carelessly. He lifted his hand to brush a strand of your hair that was soaked in blood away from your face, gazing down at you in adoration.

“No sweetheart. I'm in love.”

Narrowing your eyes, you clenched your jaw and raised your chin defiantly, refusing to break eye contact as you cocked your head to the side.

“So in love with me you’re gonna get me sent to prison?”

Hearing the bitterness in your voice, Billy let out a frustrated exhale through his nose, his reverence for you shifting into pure annoyance at your attitude.

“You ain’t goin’ to prison. I made sure of that. Everything is traceable back to him. When the cops go to the motel he was stayin’ at, they’re gonna find everything they need to wrap this case up with a neat fuckin’ bow. The outfit and mask, the knife and the DNA on it, surveillance photos of you, a disposable cell phone, everything. And this-”

Billy loosely gestured with his hand towards Roman’s lifeless body on the floor surrounded by a puddle of blood.

“-this will be clear and cut self defense. I got the best legal team in the world, sweetheart. Roman had motive, and there’s a paper trail, all leadin’ back to him. None of this is comin’ back on you. I’d never let that happen.”

The implications of what Billy was saying slowly started to sink in. He planned this, down to the last meticulous detail. You didn’t know how long he’d planned it, or who he’d leveraged his power and wealth against to make it happen, but he’d directed every moment of this set up. He had carefully crafted a trap that Roman had walked right into. Adam, Derek, Annie, the cops, his own men, you; you’d all been pieces on the game master’s board, unaware you were losing a rigged match that only had one outcome from the beginning.

Billy snapped you out of your thoughts when he took your face in his hands, brushing his thumbs over the splatters of blood on your cheekbones to wipe them away.

“You belong with me. No one else, me. You know that now.”

Staring up at him, there was a soft furrow between your brows as you let out a breathless and humorless laugh.

“Belong with you? You’re a murderer-”

“So are you.”

Billy arched one of his dark brows in challenge, gesturing his head towards the dead body on the floor next to your feet. Pressing your lips together in a firm line, you clenched your jaw seeing the flicker of amusement in Billy’s gaze. Shaking your head slowly, you smacked his hands away from your face and took a step backwards.

“You’re delusional. You are absolutely fucking delusional-”

“Oh c’mon, sweetheart. We had an agreement, yeah? No bullshit. You gonna stand there and tell me you feel bad about this, huh? You gonna look me in the eye and tell me he didn’t deserve it? Because from where I’m standin’, he had it comin’. Hell, he deserved worse if you ask me.”

Billy was staring you down, daring you to open your mouth and correct him. But even as your lips parted to speak, nothing came out. No words of regret, no remorse of your own, no horror at the brutality you’d just learned you were capable of. Even though you knew you should feel guilty and revolted about what you’d just done, you didn’t. You couldn’t come to your own defense. You didn’t have to kill Roman. You could’ve knocked him out and called the police. 

But you didn’t.

You chose to kill him. You wanted to kill him. Because deep down, you knew Billy was right. It was the only way you were going to be free. It had come down to kill, or be killed. Instead of the shackles of guilt and shame dragging you down to the unknown depths of whatever hell was waiting for you for breaking the cosmic rule of taking another life, you felt light as a feather. The fear that had been weighing on your chest your whole life, but especially the last three years, was gone. You could breathe again. You didn’t feel weak or fragile. You felt…powerful.

That moral compass within you was pointing towards relief, and maybe it had always been crooked, you just hadn’t noticed until now. But the moment you watched Roman take his last breath, something changed in you. The false pretense you had existed under abruptly faded away. All at once, the girl you had been trying to lay to rest was finally dead, for good. And it was then that you realized you hadn’t been trying so hard to bury her this entire time because of Roman and out of necessity for your own safety. It was because she was never who you really were.

This was.

Billy could see the initial hesitation on your face that slowly transitioned from denial into a half step away from acceptance. He took a step closer to you, wanting to convince you to take that final leap into embracing the truth he’d always been able to see.

“Think about it. The only time you felt safe was with me. The only time you weren’t tryin’ to be someone else, was with me. Annie didn’t know you, not like I do. Neither did Adam, and neither did this motherfucker.”

Billy pointed towards Roman’s lifeless body as he spit those words out like they were acidic. He took another bold step closer, and this time he wasn’t gentle when he grabbed your face in his hand, half of his fingers wrapping around your throat possessively. 

“I've killed for you, no else can say that. You think you were gonna be happy settlin’ down with a nice guy from Jersey, havin’ to fake who you are for the rest of your life? No way, sweetheart. Face it. It’s you and me.”

Tilting your head back slowly, you looked up at Billy, not an ounce of fear in your eyes. Your face was a blank portrait, but there was a glimmer of challenge in your unwavering stare.

“And if I say no?”

The calmness in your voice sent a thrill through Billy. You were almost there. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and he lowered his voice to a husky whisper, even though you were the only two people in the bedroom. Alive, anyway.

“You ain’t gonna do that, sweetheart. You know why?”

Billy’s question was rhetorical, and it had an undertone of amusement as he looked down at you with mischief twinkling in his eyes. His breath was warm as it ghosted over your lips.

“You know I'm right. You don’t feel a single ounce of guilt about what you just did, and you shouldn’t. He had it comin’, and no one is gonna miss this sorry piece of shit.”

Billy leaned in to nuzzle his nose against your neck, pulling you flush against his body, his other arm wrapping around your waist possessively. You swallowed thickly feeling the coarseness of his facial hair brush against your skin, making you shudder, and your body betrayed your shaky sense of morality, the lingering ache between your thighs from Billy fucking you in this very room earlier suddenly all your brain could focus on.

“You’ve always had a darkness in you, sweetheart. I knew it the night I met you. I felt it. You ain’t gotta hide it, not with me. You ain’t gotta hide period. You can go home again, see your family, your friends. There’s nothin’ holdin’ you back now. You’re not a victim anymore.”

Billy’s smooth words dripping into your ear like raw honey had a soft sigh escaping your lips. The thought of being able to go home, being able to see your mom again, being able to just exist without living in fear…it completely drowned everything else out that you should be feeling. Billy was right, you weren’t a victim anymore. And you were never going to be one again.

He’d done that for you. In his own sick, twisted way that he justified, he’d put a mirror up to you, and you were finally able to see yourself clearly. He’d pushed you to confront everything you tried to run away and hide from. He’d awoken that thing inside you that you’d always known was there, but had been too afraid to acknowledge. He’d forced you to choose between being a helpless ingenue, or a relentless fighter. 

There was no going back.

Your eyes fluttered open when Billy pulled back to look down at you. His dark brown eyes were full of awe and reverence. He stared down into your eyes lovingly, brushing the pad of his thumb along the underside of your jaw as his lips spread into a wicked grin.

“You’re a final girl, baby.”

»»———　　———««

The California sun had been something you missed immensely. New York got sunny, hot even, but it wasn’t the same. Those warm rays didn’t carry with them whispers of salt from the sea that tickled your nose or the breeze of nostalgia that caressed your fonder memories. Woodsboro hadn’t hardly changed at all in the three years you had been gone. It was exactly as you had left it.

So was your mother’s house, and your old childhood bedroom. It had been over ten years since you’d last lived in this house, but your bedroom was like a time capsule of your teenage self. The same white cotton sheets and orchid purple comforter, posters of boy bands peeling at the corners, memories with your mom and friends forever immortalized on a corkboard that were held in place with push pins. It even had the same distinct smell that it had ten years ago.

Laying in the twin size bed, you tried to conjure that teenage girl in your head, the one whose room this had been, but you couldn’t. She was as gone as the woman you had been before. You never expected to be back in this room, to get to see your mother again, but the investigation was done, and you were free to move on. Your mom had been shocked when you showed up at the front door unannounced a few days ago, and even more shocked that you’d brought someone with you, but it only took a matter of minutes before she was eating out of the palm of Billy’s hand.

The charming fucker.

The bathroom door slowly opened, the creaking of the hinges breaking you out of your thoughts, and when you glanced over, an amused laugh left your lips as your brows rose up your forehead.

“Seriously?”

Billy remained silent, his boots heavy against the hardwood floor as he took slow, predatory steps towards the bed you were laying on. Your eyes wandered over the sight of him in the black robes, his handsome face concealed by the ghastly mask. Arching one of your brows, a smirk stretched over your lips.

“What, you wanna play psycho killer?”

Billy nodded silently, taking more calculated steps towards you, building the anticipation. Grazing your top teeth over your bottom lip, you sat up slowly and moved onto your knees, looking up at him in faux innocence as your voice came out in a sultry tease.

“Can I be the helpless victim?”

Once again, Billy nodded, tilting his head to the side slowly. He slipped a knife out of the robe, the glint of the metal twinkling under the light in the room. Your lips parted as he placed the blunt edge of it along the side of your neck, gliding it down slowly, the coolness of the metal against your skin making you shiver. He continued to leisurely drag it down, over your right collarbone, and over the swell of your breasts through your shirt. 

When he reached the hem of it, Billy grasped the shirt in one of his gloved hands while he used the other to flip the knife over, dragging the sharp side of the blade in the opposite direction upwards, slicing right through the thin material. He took his time, the satisfying sound of fabric ripping filling the quiet as the knife glided through your shirt like fresh scissors through silky wrapping paper.

Goosebumps prickled along your skin as he dragged the blade across your collarbone towards the strap of your bra, not using enough pressure to actually hurt you or draw blood, but just enough for you to feel the faint sting of steel against soft flesh. A succession of two snips sounded, and severed straps tumbled down your arms. But Billy didn’t just reach behind you to unhook your bra, that wasn’t part of the fun. Instead, he cut right through the front of it, wire and all, and then your breasts were bouncing slightly as they spilled from the cups.

Billy wrapped his gloved hand around your throat and forced you onto your back, climbing on top of you, bringing his face down closer. The rubber of the mask was stiff as he pressed his forehead to yours, but you could faintly see his eyes through the black cloth covering the holes of the eye openings.

“Billy-”

“Shh.”

He held his index finger up to the mouth of the mask before bringing it down to press against your lips.

“Bite.”

A flicker of confusion passed through your eyes, but you bit down gently on the tip of his finger, and he pulled his hand back, the fabric of the glove remaining between your teeth as he slipped his hand out. Grabbing it from your mouth and tossing it aside, he traced your lips with his index finger before slipping his thumb past your lips and into your mouth, pressing the pad of it against your soft, warm and wet tongue.

“Suck.”

Wrapping your lips around his thumb, you made a soft noise in the back of your throat as you hollowed your cheeks, sucking softly on his digit and swirling your tongue around it slowly, giving the tip a gentle bite. A muffled grunt came from Billy above, and he pushed his hips forward, allowing you to feel the erection straining against his pants poking against your lower stomach.

“You feel how fuckin’ worked up you get me, baby?”

“I wanna feel more.”

Billy’s dark chuckle was muffled by the mask, his deep voice husky and full of amusement. He slipped his thumb out of your mouth, rubbing it over your lips and down your chin, spreading your own saliva over your skin.

“Greedy little thing.”

Dragging the knife between the valley of your breasts and down your stomach, the cold steel made you tense, your stomach muscles clenching slightly. In a flash, Billy had rendered your sleep shorts into shreds of jagged fabric, but he surprised you by setting the knife on the bed beside your head so he could slip your panties down your thighs, leaving them intact.

“Open your mouth.”

Parting your lips and opening your mouth slightly, you watched as Billy balled up the silky red fabric, and your eyes widened slightly when he shoved it into your mouth, gagging you with your own panties. A soft noise was muffled by the makeshift gag, but Billy ignored whatever you were trying to say. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head on the mattress.

“Be a good girl and keep these here.”

Your heart was racing with anticipation, and a thrill of excitement had your nerve endings feeling like they’d just been hit with a jolt of lightning. You clenched your hands into fists above your head to keep yourself from reaching for Billy as you watched him drag the robe up to his hips so he could unzip his pants, reaching inside to pull out his hardened cock. He slipped his hand between your thighs, coating his palm and his fingers in the wetness that had your inner thighs slick, and you moaned around the gag, shifting your hips up in need as his thumb brushed lightly over your needy clit.

Billy wrapped his hand around the base of his cock, giving himself a few languid strokes as he coated his length in your natural lubrication. He didn’t have any patience left for teasing or playing his own little game, and neither did you. He pushed his hips forward, a muffled groan of satisfaction sounding from deep within his chest as he sank into your tight welcoming heat. Your back arched slightly and your eyes nearly rolled at the sensation of being stretched and filled with his thick cock.

Grabbing your wrists, Billy kept them pinned to the mattress above your head, and he languidly rolled his hips, the denim of his jeans rubbing against your bare thighs with every deep stroke. You brought your legs up to wrap around his waist, trying to pull him closer, wanting him impossibly deeper. Your moans of pleasure were muffled by your panties in your mouth, and you could hear Billy’s heavy breathing through the mask.

“Such a good little slut for me. You like it when I fuck you like this, don’t you baby?”

Billy chuckled darkly in your ear hearing the incoherent response reduced to a muffled moan from the makeshift gag. 

“I know you do. I can feel it. This pretty pussy was soaked before I even touched you, and it’s grippin’ my cock so tight, takin’ it so well.”

Billy raised up slightly, letting go of one of your wrists so he could wrap his hand around your throat instead, squeezing just a little as he kept fucking you with slow, deep strokes.

“I knew this shit would get you off. You really are as fucked in the head as me, aren’t you pretty girl? You like it when I-”

All of a sudden there was a knock on the bedroom door, and your eyes went wide.

“Sweetie?”

Billy stopped thrusting, twisting his head to look at the door before looking down at you. Grabbing the mouth of the mask, he pulled it over his head, his raven strands messy from being under the mask. His dark brown eyes were wild with lust and had a dangerous glint in them. He quickly pulled your panties out of your mouth, and you swallowed thickly before calling out.

“Yeah?”

“Are you guys hungry? I was thinking about ordering a pizza.”

Billy’s breathing was heavy, but before you could answer your mother, he swiped the knife off the bed beside your head and held it to your throat. Your eyes widened in surprise, a flash of confusion in them, but then Billy rolled his hips forward, and your mouth dropped open. He quickly covered your mouth with his palm before the moan could slip out, and he pressed the blade just a tad harder against your neck to silence you. He leaned in, his nose brushing against yours as he whispered in a husky and rough tone while staring down into your wide eyes.

“Answer her.”

Billy’s hips were flush against your own, and he was flexing them forward, his cock dragging through your tight warm walls in a way that made your brain feel fuzzy.

“Y-Yeah. That…that sounds good.”

“What kind of pizza does Billy like?”

Your hands flew out to grab onto Billy’s biceps, and your eyes fluttered shut as Billy started to fuck you a little harder, but still keeping his thrusts slow and deep. Because he’d just unzipped his pants, the rough denim of his jeans covering his pelvis was rubbing right against your throbbing clit with every move of his hips. It was maddening. 

“Any kind.”

Ever the inquisitive and talkative one, your mother continued to drone on about pizza toppings and the new Italian place in town, rambling about things you didn’t give a single fuck about right now. 

You were trying to keep it out of your voice that you were currently getting fucked into the mattress, but it was getting hard to keep your words from sounding shaky and breathless. Billy watched you from above, his lips spreading into a sinister grin, his dark eyes twinkling with delight. He leaned in and nuzzled his nose along the underside of your jaw, nipping at your sensitive skin, pressing his hips flush against yours and starting to oscillate them. A breath caught in your throat, and you whispered pleadingly.

“Billy-”

“Keep talking or I won’t let you come.”

There was an edge of a warning to his voice, and you gripped onto his arms tighter, forcing down the whine of frustration you wanted to let slip. 

“Mom, really, anything is…f-fine. Billy just…got out of the shower…we’ll…we’ll be down in a minute.”

“Okay, I’ll get both toppings and the breadsticks just in case. No one ever complained about too much pizza.”

You heard your mom’s familiar melodic laughter and the sound of her footsteps retreating, descending the staircase, and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“I like your mom.”

Smacking your hand against Billy’s arm, he let out an amused laugh, dropping the knife back onto the bed as he grinned down at you.

“You’re such a dick.”

Billy let out a hum, grabbing your thigh and hiking your leg further up his waist, allowing him to change the angle and thrust even deeper, tearing a surprised moan from your lips. He nuzzled his nose against your neck, nipping at your earlobe as he whispered in a teasing tone.

“Now, is that any way to talk to the man who’s about to make you come?”

Letting out a frustrated whine, you wrapped your arms around his neck tightly and tried to pull him in even closer.

“Billy-”

Grabbing your throat once again, Billy cut you off as he captured your lips in a deep kiss, forcing his tongue past your lips to taste you. He started to snap his hips quickly, and you moaned into the kiss, gripping onto his broad shoulders and digging your nails into the thick fabric of the black robe. The worn frame of your bed began to squeak under the weight of both of you and how roughly Billy was now fucking you into the mattress. Never in a million years did you think you’d be having kinky sex in your childhood bedroom, but Billy had gotten you to do a lot of things you never thought you would.

The moan that tore from the depth of your core was muffled by Billy’s greedy lips, and he tightened his grip on your thigh when you tightened your trembling legs around his waist. Even when he felt your cunt clench around his cock, and the warmth that flooded afterwards, soaking through his jeans, he didn’t stop. He fucked you through your orgasm, and past it. He kept going, determined to force one more wave of pleasure out of you. His kiss was even hungrier, more demanding, and he could faintly feel you clawing at his back through the thick fabric. 

When a second round of ecstasy barreled through you and seeped through his jeans to drench his heated skin beneath, Billy finally let go, allowing your greedy cunt to milk him for all he was worth. The instant gratification was overwhelming, turning his vision white for a split second, making his veins feel like they were flowing with helium instead of blood.

“Wow.”

Billy chuckled hearing the breathlessness of your voice. He peppered kisses along your neck, and you could feel his grin on your skin.

“Wow, ‘I just had sex in my childhood bedroom’, or wow ‘that was the best fuck I’ve ever had’?”

“Both.”

Pulling back to look at you, Billy’s dark eyes wandered over your face, and the hazy grin and fucked out look in your eyes made a smile stretch over his own mouth. He brushed his knuckles along your cheekbone gently, just quietly observing you. After a moment of comfortable silence, he spoke.

“We can stay, you know.”

You knew what Billy was saying. When you’d told him you wanted to return to Woodsboro for the holidays to see your mom again, you’d asked him to come with you, and he’d immediately cleared his schedule to make the trip. There hadn’t been a discussion on whether this was just a visit, or a homecoming, but the look in Billy’s eyes told you everything you needed to know. If you wanted to stay permanently, so would he.

Letting out a deep exhale through your nose, you looked up at him with a soft smile, placing your hand on top of his.

“I don’t belong here. I don’t know if I ever did. It’s nice to come back and visit but…it’s not where I’m meant to be.”

“You’re meant to be whenever you wanna be.”

It was such a strange feeling having a person that would do anything for you. You had never had that before. Even your mother had a history of putting her own needs and wants before your own. But Billy…Billy was willing to do whatever it took to make you happy, and ready to handle anyone or anything that got in the way of that, without hesitation. You were still processing everything that had happened, but when you had woken up on that first morning of November, you finally felt like you could breathe. You finally felt like…you. 

There was no more running. No more pretending. No more living in fear. It was freeing, and empowering. It didn’t feel like there was anything that could be thrown at you that you couldn’t handle, not anymore. And now, you weren’t doing it alone. You never had to be alone again. 

“I know, but I like New York. I wanna be there. The coffee is better.”

Billy smirked and arched one of his dark brows, looking at you with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. 

“That all?”

Pursing your lips, you twisted your features into an expression of mock contemplation, pretending to think it over. 

“Yeah, pretty much.”

Billy rolled his eyes, shaking his head with an amused snort. He leaned in and nipped at your neck, making you laugh.

“Brat.”

Carding his fingers through your hair, Billy tilted his head to the side as he looked at you curiously.

“You thought about that deal?”

Looking at him in confusion, you cocked your own head to the side.

“What deal?”

“About the book.”

Letting out a soft laugh, you rolled your own eyes and shook your head, a faint smirk gracing the edge of your lips as you quirked a brow.

“What, and be the next Gale Weathers?”

“Why not? You got a hell of a story.”

Billy flashed you a wink, a wicked grin splitting his lips. Bringing your hand up to smooth his raven strands back into place, you bit down on your bottom lip, smirking.

“Mhm. And what would I call this story?”

Billy gave a faint shrug of his shoulders, leaning in with a smirk as he brushed his lips against yours, whispering.

“How about a play on the original. If you’re gonna be the next Gale Weathers, you could call it…The Manhattan Murders.”

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @ferns-fics @danzer8705 @to-thelakes @simonsgirl @sweetserendipity65 @zomtart @day-dreaming-goddess @caroblogsthings @thomasshelbyswife @snowkestrel @hallowedtangerine @ameliaswife @dreadfulxives18 @ebsmind @lllla717 @slumnit @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @nolita-fairytale @oliviaewl @r1kk @unlikelystarlightcowboy @imperihoe-writes @dumb-fawkin-bitch @merc12-us @moonyinthestars @sweetttart @i-caught-a-pidge @fruityfucker @strangerfromketterdam @whosprettynow @killing-gremlin

»— if you wanna get in the spooky slutty mood, listen here! -> the manhattan murders soundtrack

[about-faces]

Last night, I was once again struggling to actually write smut for a Harvey/Bruce/Gilda fic, when I noticed a very timely new guest comment on my Gilda fic, Bust. It was the first truly critical response I’ve gotten so far, and while that sort of thing would normally send me into a depressive tizzy, I actually found it really interesting!

So instead of actually writing the ship, as I should have been, I wanted to take this opportunity to think about just why the heck I shipped them in the first place.

Here’s how I responded, with added scans to hopefully better illustrate my point, plus some additions that occurred to me upon drafting this post:

I’m actually glad you raised this point, because I would have felt the exact same as you just a few years ago!

I’m gray-asexual, and I used to be a bit bothered by the rise of Bruce/Harvey shippers, because it was their canonical platonic FRIENDSHIP that mattered so much to me. I gradually warmed up to the shippers, because 1.) I realized I was ace and they probably weren’t, and 2.) they at least understood the importance of Bruce and Harvey’s bond, which is more than I can say for LOTS of official DC media.

Still, something bugged me about the ship, and I realized what it was: the lack of Gilda from the equation. She’s always been deeply important to me, especially her scant older appearances, and erasing her for a Bruce/Harvey ship (even one I’d come to appreciate) didn’t sit right with me.

But like you said, it’s not canon, and I’ve always been deeply invested in canon, even the stuff that’s frustrating and contradictory. So yeah, the throuple would have bugged me too.

Except! It all depends on WHICH canon you’re talking about!

So over the past 15 years, I’ve been obsessed with tracking down the entirety of the obscure, forgotten Batman newspaper comic strip from 1989-1991. I’ve posted the entire thing at @batman-daily, and I strongly encourage you to check it out. A couple years ago, I reread it and noticed something really interesting: the remarkable relationship between Bruce, Harvey, and the latter’s wife, Alice, who is Gilda in every way but name. They are all mutual friends, with Alice even going to visit Bruce alone to help/bully him to take care of himself.

It all reads like a perfect long-game setup for a love triangle, or for Harvey—having become Two-Face—to go after his loved ones in a jealous rage, like he did in Paul Dini’s “Two-Timer,” a story which notably showed that Grace had feelings for Bruce.

With that in mind, consider the final story arc of the newspaper strip, wherein Bruce acknowledges his OWN feelings for Alice and PASSIONATELY KISSES HER, all in a hilariously roundabout way to save her marriage to Harvey! It makes sense in context and is frankly hilarious.

And it works! Because Harvey isn’t jealous! The love triangle conflict you expect NEVER HAPPENS! Because they all love one another! And that love saves Harvey in the very end!

Was it explicitly a throuple? No, but nor have Bruce and Harvey ever canonically touched dicks. And yet the love between Bruce and Harvey in canon is true and real enough that shippers who want to make it sexual are perfectly allowed to do so, because it’s the love that matters. At least, for those of us who aren’t afraid to acknowledge the love between men, platonic or otherwise. And that love is rooted in canon.

So consider this: the mutual three-way-love between Bruce, Harvey, and Alice/Gilda is ALSO canon. That comic strip has been officially accepted as DC multiverse canon in the “Crisis on Infinite Earths: Absolute Edition,” which designated it as Earth-1289.

Furthermore, there’s something else you need to consider: the fact that Harvey HAS been used in love triangles against Bruce in several stories in recent decades. I already mentioned “Two-Timer,” but there’s also Nolan’s “The Dark Knight,” the animated “Gotham By Gaslight” film, and the Telltale game. In various ways, these stories serve to throw a wedge in the friendship between Bruce (the protagonist, whose story serves him) and Harvey (the guy who is going to lose it all, the woman included). I hate that shit. I hate the contrived drama that’s meant to stir up needless added conflict between two men who love each other.

And then, on the other hand, you have Mariko Tamaki’s Gilda story from “Batman: Black and White.” Tamaki depicted Harvey and Gilda being in a distant, loveless marriage, where even on their wedding day, he was constantly ignoring her in favor of work. The only person who could actually get his attention was Bruce.

At the time, this felt an awful lot like that problem I was talking about with the Bruce/Harvey shippers: raising up the gay ship while throwing the woman under the bus. In this case, for the purpose of doing an avenging girlboss take on Gilda. I hated that too, especially when Tamaki didn’t even follow through with the gay subtext in her next, miserable Two-Face comic.

You know that meme of a bride, groom, and best man all kissing one another, while the bride flips off the cameraman in the end? @whipbogard redrew the Tamaki wedding scene as that meme, right around the time I reread the comic strip. And suddenly, everything clicked into place for me.

After a lifetime of never, ever having any serious fandom ships, I fell in love with the idea of Bruce/Harvey/Gilda. Take what the comic strip did and bring it into the mainstream canon I love to spite the canon I hate.

In those great old Gilda stories, she saw through Harvey’s bullshit and knew how to reach him, however temporarily. She could do the same with Bruce. She’d be a valuable third voice for the ongoing toxic relationship between Bruce and Harvey, the one who could love them both while also getting to be frustrated with how fucking stupid and fucked-up both these men are.

Before she was reduced to a ride-or-die killer housewife in "The Long Halloween" (which, I'll grant you, has its own appeal), classic Gilda would actually stand up to Harvey and tell him to cut out his shit or else. I love the idea that she can also see right through Bruce, understanding how very alike he and Harvey are, even if they don't want to admit it.

Writing Gilda this way speaks to me as a longtime fan of both men, while also wanting to try to develop her place, as a woman stuck in the middle of their decades' worth of conflict and angst. She sees these men at their best, worst, and most pathetic/ridiculous, and while she's got the nerve to stand up for herself and call them out as needed, she still loves them nonetheless. For me, Gilda has become the voice for fans just like me, who are helpless to stop Batman and Two-Face from continuing the cycle of violent, toxic friendship, but still loving them nonetheless, and always hoping for the best.

So, at this point, let’s say I’ve at least managed to make you grudgingly accept my reasoning for the relationship. Even if that’s true, I’m gonna guess that the mention of a threesome felt like it came out of left field. I can’t argue with that. I wanted to actually write that as its own smutfic but, being ace, I struggle with that. But I really liked the idea, and as I was writing this, it just really wanted to be mentioned, so I included it.

The response has been positive (until now), which indicated to me that I had been successful in introducing Gilda as a viable third into a slice of fandom which had only shipped Bruce and Harvey. This is fanfic, after all, such things are expected, even encouraged, so I leaned into it.

Now, if I were ever (un?)fortunate enough to write for DC, officially? I doubt I’d have the nerve to go that far. But I’d still want to at least embrace the polycule-coded relationship between those three that we saw in the newspaper comic strip. I think it adds a whole new, refreshing spin on their ongoing dynamics, while being rooted in relationships that were established all the way back in 1942 by Bill Finger.

Finger’s story, at its heart, was all about how love can save a life. How love is the only way to defeat the villain. For Harvey Kent’s part, Gilda’s love was every bit as important as Batman’s unwillingness to give up on his friend. So I’m just taking it one step further within the freedom allowed me by fanfic.

Sorry for the length of the reply, but as you can see, I only came to this shit after several decades of thinking about 80+ years of official material. I hope I have at least been able to lessen your feelings of being jarred out of a story you otherwise seemed to appreciate. For my part, I hope to further develop the potential of this fucked-up polycule in future stories, and maybe—just maybe—I’ll be able to get you on board too. Hope to see you then!

(art by ofossart)

[flippinpancakes64]

heyy i love your works sm that i have the notifications active💕 this may sound like a weird request but as a student of classical languages i need to make it: can you please write about cullens with reader who can speak ancient greek and latin? thanks💕 sorry about my english but it’s not my first language

The Cullens with an S/O who speaks Classical Languages

Omg that is so sweet?!?!?? I didn't even know you could activate notifications for certain accounts thank you so much

And I did not add any dialogue of the languages in here because I can only speak English and Spanish and I know if I tried it would just be google translate garbage

Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy!

Edward:

He's a smart young lad

In the books and the movies he is fluent in Spanish and Portuguese

But the likelihood of him having taken a Greek or Latin course is very high

It's also stated that he has the most degrees so he probably has a language degree in there somewhere

All that to say that he loves speaking to you in those languages

With the Cullens' heightened hearing, there's not a lot of stuff you can hide in that house

But speaking a language that none of the others know is a pretty good way to keep secrets

He would also enjoy talking like that in school

I feel like he secretly enjoys the weird reputation that the Cullens have lol

Alice:

I was able to find that she has a degree in fashion and international business, but nothing on languages

But she's probably taken a couple of French classes

Other than that she doesn't know any other languages

So when she first hears you speak it, she doesn't even know what it is

After you explain that it's ancient Latin/Greek she is enthralled

She wants to know some words so she can understand what you're saying

She gets frustrated when she doesn't

"Wait, I didn't catch that. Talk slower."

"Hmm... no"

"Come ON!"

Jasper:

He has degrees in History and Philosophy

And again no mentions of language

He might've picked up on a couple Spanish phrases back in the day, and probably took some French

But again, nothing more than that

When he hears you speak, he falls in love again

He's not too interested in learning the language, unless you want to teach him

He thinks it sounds infinitely better coming out of your mouth

Rosalie:

She has degrees in electrical engineering, business, and astrophysics

And again no mention of a secondary language anywhere

She would think you sound beautiful though

She says it makes you sound like royalty

Likes to listen to you talk while she works on her car or does her schoolwork

Again, she's not too interested in learning the language

She just wants to hear you talk it

But at some point she picks up on a couple things and feels so proud of herself

Emmett:

No degrees and no languages

The dude is just here

He has major respect for anyone who can learn another language though

And when he finds out that his S/O knows multiple?

He's stoked

Mostly just because he wants to get back at Edward a little bit

He makes you teach him stupid phrases and insults so he can taunt Edward with them

In seriousness though he loves that his S/O is so smart

Esme:

Once again, no degrees and no languages listed

I guess she's just been hanging out

I feel like she would love hearing you speak such an old language

She'd go on some rant about how we're losing touch with older things as the years go by

She thinks your voice sounds so melodic

Also not interested in learning though

But she would find it fun to point at something and ask for the translation

Carlisle:

Obvs he has a medical degree but other than that there's nothing

But like

He's literally 400 years old and hung out with the Volturi for a while

He has to know a whole bunch of languages

He's the only one besides Edward who can speak with you

And he really enjoys it

It helps him feel closer to you

He feels so different from everybody else

He's the oldest by a lot, he's constantly surrounded by humans, he was the OG vegetarian

There's not a lot of people who he feels he can truly connect with

So having this in common makes him feel less like the odd one out

Also sidetrack but I just know his voice is so elegant when he speaks Latin

Vampire! Bella:

In the book it's stated that she wanted to get an english degree to become a teacher

So yeah no language stuff here

She's so curious though

And also frustrated

She wants the word-for-word translation of everything you say

Partially because she is actually curious as to what you're saying

And partially because she feels left out

She is shocked when she finds out though

She's always considered those languages to be dead (which they technically are I guess) and never thought she'd ever hear them

I think she gets a little confused on how you even know it

"Are you, like, secretly a time traveler?"

"No? The languages are just well documented."

[myymi]

i want to talk about the paradox prism for a minute because it's really interesting to me

[everything below is purely speculation / headcanon - please don't mistake it for canon. beware of spoilers for sonic prime part 3]

similar to the master/chaos emeralds, the paradox prism has a level a sentience. not anywhere close to the same level as the emeralds, but there's still something there

the chaos emeralds tend to set up a line of dominos to cause a future event (ex; sonic taking tails under his wing and learning to become more responsible from it)

the paradox prism doesn't do anything close to that, but it does share something with the master emerald; it holds memories

the prism was able to create more versions of the people it saw based on the emotions it saw them project (tails, knuckles, amy, rouge, and eggman)

the different shards / shatterspaces are made up from other major events. whether from this timeline or another is different for each shatterspace

new yoke was created from the group's frustration with sonic + an ending where eggman's almost won (i believe this could be pulled from the events of forces, considering the enforcers)

i think the reason new yoke is the only shatterspace to have a version of eggman is because it's the only one that makes sense to have one

it's pretty well known by now that eggman will need a helping hand if he wants any chance at taking over the world

the only thing better than an evil genius is five evil geniuses, right?

the new yoke group are, as i said, everyone's frustration

nine is frustrated with his past. reminiscing about his tormentors brings him more anger than pain, and living in solitude definitely does not help

rebel and knux are frustrated by the loss of their home (and the egg council in general). having watched their home be destroyed was more heartbreaking than anything at first, it eventually grew to an anger that spurred them on to fix it

rusty is frustrated with those who disobey/fight against the council, but her anger eventually ends up directed towards the council for the way they used her.

i could go more in depth about the new yoke group, but this post is gonna be long enough as is wefoefwof

the shard being red could simply be because that's the color that represents anger, but i'd like to think that-going back to forces-it was a bit influenced by the phantom ruby/infinite as well

no place is formed by the underlying sadness + a devastating event that permanently changed the world (chaos' rampage)

im not connecting no place to chaos because of the fact it's flooded, im connecting it because of the way the stories parallelled

chaos' rampage begun when pachacamac attempted to steal and harness the power of the chaos emeralds for his own gain

dread seeks out the 'devil's ligthouse' solely to prove he is a legend, nearly killing his original crew trying to do so

both protagonists of these stories are selfish and caused destruction for their own gain

dread's, well, dread comes from his failure of proving himself to be the most feared pirate to ever live.

him failing to collect the shard caused him to believe that he truly wasn't a good pirate, leaving him to spiral into a life of cowardice.

the rest of the pirates' dread comes from their longing to be actual pirates.

because of his failure and cowardice, dread now leads a peaceful crew. they don't do any 'pirating', which leaves much to be desired

they enjoy the parties and all, but their true fun comes from being pirates, which dread deprives them of

boscage maze comes from the protectiveness surging between everyone + a world where harmony between enemies is possible to achieve (possibly comes from a timeline where eggman simply doesnt exist, leaving mobius to grow peacefully)

boscage is the shatterspace with the most life. it's full of all kinds of plants because nobody there is destroying it (intentionally, anyways)

thorn rose is protective over birdie and the green. she does what she can to protect both, even if it means hurting people she once called friends

keeping the jungle and birdie safe is her #1 priority, and nothing will ever change that (that's not to say something else can't join them in being her priority)

the scavengers are protective over their belongings and, no matter how strangely they show it, each other

gnarly was nervous when sonic touched his house, immediately turning aggressive to make sure he wouldn't damage it

instead of hiding the berry, prim showed it to the others for a chance they could all share it

instead of running off on his own, mangey let the scavengers follow him as he sniffed out the berry (+ him fetching the one that fell off the treetops, showing it off to the group)

hangry allows mangey to crawl around him, which we can assume means it happens a lot off screen as well

they stick together and cover each other's backs, no matter how hard the fight gets

while we don't know what this shatterspace was before it turned into the grim, it's pretty safe to assume that it was apocalyptic

who or whatever used to live here is long gone. the only thing standing are the purple crystal things.

my guess is it's a timeline where eggman won. he won, and the world died out because he ruined the ecosystem from building so many machines.

while purple is usually associated with royalty or mystery, it's also associated with power, ambition, peace, and independence

whatever happened to the world before the grim, it's very probable that it was out of high ambition with a need for more power. eventually, the world found its peace and is now independent

ghost hill is the blueprint. the time before sonic & co. make their mark on the world. a blank canvas.

maybe a timeline where they don't get a chance to make their mark on the world

yellow is a very light, energetic color. the feeling of happiness at the chance to create something new and fun.

ghost hill and the grim don't have much in terms of characters and design, but i think the colors of their respective shards give us plenty of information about them

the paradox prism is nothing like the chaos emeralds, but is also just like them at the same time. it's powered by pure chaos with no sort of indication on how it was created or why it has the powers it does

i wonder if eggman knew what the prism was exactly or if he only knew that it was powerful

did he know breaking it would cause the world to shatter? did he know how may memories it holds? how many lifetimes it's lived?

i also wonder if the prism knew sonic would shatter it, and that it was already preparing the shatterspaces; hence why it glows brighter

maybe it understood that sonic is a hands-on learner. maybe it knew he needed to experience the lessons first hand, needed them to-quite literally-slap him in the face

maybe it knew they all had their own flaws that they needed to be aware of. maybe it lived through the timeline where sonic never shattered the prism.

maybe the prism planned to be shattered by someone so it could share its memories. maybe there was some sort of pull that told sonic it needed to be shattered.

[flowercrowngods]

part 1 | part 2 (these make one big story, you won't understand this part without the others)

day 03: first kiss

a/n: not sure if I vibe with this part, but I hope it's okay. also don't think you're getting fluff

A broken heart is such a thing that will make you live either in the past or in the future; never in the present moment. Lovesickness feels like a virus is attacking the very fabric of your universe, distorting time and space and leaving you floating; directionless and hurting. 

That is how Steve feels as he goes through the motions of his life, getting his kids ready for finals, for their oral and written exams, or planning end-of-year school trips. While school provides a great distraction and he has mastered the art of switching into teacher mode almost effortlessly, he feels like he’s just an inch or two beside himself. Beside where he should be. 

He’s dwelling in the past or mourning dozens of possible futures, an infinity of them that will end up unrealised, unlived, unloved. His heart is heavy all the time, his head hurting, and his phone chiming with an endless string of messages that go unopened, unreplied. 

It’s been a few weeks since the engagement party, since he last saw Eddie — who asked if he was okay, who has been asking to see him again, to hang out, have a drink, just catch up. But every time he does, Steve just hurts, and he finds excuses. 

— Sorry, it’s finals season, I’ll be spread thin for the next few weeks :(

Eddie had replied with a litany of sad, brokenhearted emojis that were at equal measures ridiculous as they were exactly what Steve was feeling. Is feeling. Will probably always be feeling, for the rest of his life and beyond. 

So far, Eddie hasn’t asked him to be his best man. Steve sort of doesn’t want to give him the opportunity for that. He’s cowardly enough to wish he could avoid Eddie forever if only that meant he wouldn’t have to see his face fall and crumble when he tells him, No. 

No, I can’t be your best man. I can’t make it to the wedding. I can’t make it, I can’t do this, I can’t stand by and watch as you show me and the rest of the world that your dream life is not with me. Never with me. I can’t hand you over when all I wanna do is hold you. Hold your hand. Walk you down the aisle and then sweep you up in my arms, just to run out, run away; anywhere, as long as it’s with you. 

It doesn’t make sense. There won’t be an aisle, there won’t be any sweeping, there won’t be a future for them. Never has been. Not like this. 

Although there was a brief moment in time where their futures almost aligned. Almost. The timing was never right, though, stumbling through the motions and currents of two lost boys’ emotions. But it was almost there, almost enough.

And it's what's been on Steve's mind all week, playing and replaying, tearing at him from the inside out, leaving him with a jigsaw puzzle of infinite pieces of could have beens, would have beens, and what ifs.

"You know," he tells Robin one evening, who has practically moved in now, claiming that broken hearts are best nursed together. "I was actually Eddie's first kiss."

To her credit, Robin doesn't drop the carton pizza at Steve's non-sequitur. She just swallows hard and looks at him in that careful way she has now, where she's trying to read him and ask his eyes to tell her what it is that she should say next. It's frustrating. It's the greatest kindness anyone has ever shown him. It makes him want to punch a wall, and it makes him want to wrap her in the warmest hug and never, ever let her go.

"You were?"

Steve just nods, his lips trembling as his throat closes up again.

"No," she says in the gentlest voice, taking his hand as she guides him to the living room couch. "I didn't know that. Do you wanna talk about it?"

He shakes his head, tucking his feet under her thigh and leaning sideways against the backrest of the couch. His head is heavy and he's tired. He's always tired, even though he doesn't cry as much anymore. It's been four weeks since the engagement party.

"No, I just, uh– Just wanted to say that."

She nods, her eyes boring into him for two, three, four seconds before she finally turns to her pizza.

He looks past her, his eyes unfocused as his mind travels back to that day when they were still in high school.

~*~

The day that Eddie told him he was gay. And Steve had asked how he knew, because he'd been wondering about his own sexuality.

"I don't know, I just know."

"Well, have you ever kissed a boy?"

And Eddie had blushed a little, charred with his feet in the dirt like he always did – still does. "No."

"Okay."

And Steve, ten years ago, had thought, why not kill two birds with one stone. "Would you like to?"

"Huh?"

"Well, I mean, I'm kinda on the fence about it? Sometimes I think I might like guys, but then other times not so much. But I've never kissed one either, so," he shrugged. "If you, like, want to? We can."

"You want me to kiss you?" Eddie sounded incredulous, but his eyes were very big, very dark, very vulnerable. And it was not a no.

"Only if you want to."

A grin split Eddie's face then and he raised his eyebrows suggestively, but there was something forced about it. "Well, what If I fall madly in love with you, Steve Harrington, hm? What then?"

"Oh, please," Steve had only snorted; the thought that Eddie would fall for him out of all people was just too absurd.

And then something had shifted between them, the air turned into something sizzling as Eddie's smile fell and he stepped closer to Steve, raising one hand to his cheek.

"Here goes my first kiss," he murmured.

"Ever?"

"If we discount Lisa from kindergarten, then yes."

Steve huffed, looking down at Eddie's lips, the moment strangely intimate – but not uncomfortably so. Being this close to Eddie wasn't something new, Steve was used to his friend's tactile nature. "Fuck Lisa from kindergarten."

"I'd really rather not," Eddie smiled before finally, finally leaning in and capturing Steve's lips in a kiss.

To this day, Steve is not sure why he went and deepened the kiss like he did. Was it because he knew this was Eddie's first and he wanted to make it good, make it last? Was it because something deep inside of him knew that he liked boys, too, and that he liked Eddie, even though that realisation wouldn't come for another year at least?

He doesn't know why, but he feels it on his lips still, the memory of their first kiss. Their only kiss. A spectacular one that ended with twin smiles after Steve showed Eddie how to move his lips, how to tilt his head, how to open his mouth to let him in. How to capture the little sigh that he would make.

Eddie had looked at him, a little dazed, and Steve grinned at him, delighted at his expression more than at the kiss itself.

"A-And did you," Eddie started, pulling his hands away from Steve and shoving them deeply into his pockets. "Did you get any closer to, uh, to finding out?"

"If I like guys?"

Eddie nodded.

Steve thought about it; about the kiss and how it wasn't as soft as making out with Nancy or Allison. How he would swallow their moans and run his hands along their soft bodies. Eddie wasn't like that. Eddie was just Eddie.

"I think I'll just stick with girls for now," he shrugged with a smile, patting Eddie on the shoulder and squeezing lightly when the other boy began to sway a little.

"Suit yourself, Harrington," Eddie said, shoving him a little. "But you're missing out."

Years later, Eddie had drunkenly confessed to him that he'd had a crush on Steve back then. For years. And Steve had wanted to ask about it, ask if it's still there, that crush, that connection on a deeper, closer level; but then Eddie told him, "Remember Chrissy? We're official now."

And all the words had died on Steve's lips. All those questions, or the confession that, Yeah, me too. Though Steve's crush on Eddie was much later, years after their first kiss, – and it never really ended.

Still hasn't. And it's not a crush. It's more. It's everything.. He's in love. In it. Caught, stuck, trapped inside, while Eddie and everyone else is on the outside, just watching him struggle.

~*~

Later that night, on his umpteenth re-run of the First Kiss Episode that's keeping him from falling asleep, leaving him frustrated and sad and wondering, his phone rings. Eddie's name pops up on the screen, the impersonal Eddie Munson feels like a knife through his heart. He couldn't bear any of the silly nicknames that Eddie's always had in his phone, and needed to go back to a clean slate.

It hurts, though. He watches, considering to let it go to voicemail – but he hasn't talked to his... to Eddie in four weeks. Barely even talked to him on his engagement party.

And even though there's a chance opening for Eddie to ask him or to talk about his wedding, Steve answers the call.

"Stevie," Eddie says, somewhere between a sigh and a hum, and immediately takes away Steve's breath.

"Hi," he rasps. His heart is racing, his hands begin to tremble and he's shaking even under the thick, warm blanket.

"Did I wake you?"

He hums a negative, not trusting himself to speak, and it comes out a pathetic croak, because God, he missed Eddie. Part of him was missing – part of him will always be missing now, he knows –, and it makes him cry. It's not a sob, not a wail, not anything that Eddie can hear or something that would alarm Robin in the other room.

They're silent tears, and he presses his face into the pillow. He should hang up.

"Stevie?" Eddie asks again, his voice so small, so gentle, so worried. "Are you okay?" And after a moment of Steve being unresponsive because he can't catch his breath without gasping, Eddie asks, "Are you crying?"

And just like a kid that tries to be brave through the pain after falling down, but breaks the moment someone asks if they're hurt, Steve lets out a tiny, broken little sob.

"Oh, Stevie baby," Eddie sighs, and he sounds so sad, so compassionate, Steve never wants to hear his name like that ever again. "Do you want me to come over?"

"No," he croaks pathetically, hitting himself once, twice, three times for not keeping it together. For not being strong enough.

I can't do this.

"What do you need?"

"Sleep," he sniffles, stupidly.

"Okay. Then I'll stay here and be silent company, yeah? Don't need to be alone. Is Robin there?" He hums again, affirmative. "Good. Want me to say something? Read to you, tell you a story? Play you some music or–"

"Eddie," Steve manages. I love you. "Just silence? But you don't have to."

"Nah, I'll stay with you," Eddie says before Steve even finished his objections. "Until you've fallen asleep, yeah?"

Steve just nods into his pillow, even though Eddie can't see or hear it.

He's watching the seconds turn into minutes as the time passes. He's so tired, but he doesn't want to let go yet. Not when Eddie is right there. Not when there's still the phantom feeling of his lips capturing Steve's, a memory that is ten years old and still as strong as the very first second.

He should have known, then. Should have leaned in for another kiss, should have told Eddie that he knows he's into boys now, too, and ask Eddie to keep kissing him.

He shouldn't have taken years.

He should have created a new world just for the two of them, with an infinite amount of futures, and all go them happy. All of them SteveAndEddie.

But he didn't. And he wants to apologise. For being so slow, for not knowing until it was too late. For pulling away these past few weeks when that's the last thing he ever wants to do. For not being strong enough; for being too weak.

I'm in love with you, he thinks. Over and over and over. Mouths it voicelessly into the silence between them. Says it out loud when after almost two hours, Eddie hangs up with a quiet, "Good night, Stevie. I miss you." He says it when Eddie's gone, the beep of an empty line the only response he gets before that cuts out, too.

And then he's all alone again.

tagging: @sexymothmanincarnate @mcneen @livsters @eddiemunchondeeznuts @abstractnaturaldisaster @steddie-as-they-go @hyperfixationgoddess @goodolefashionedloverboi @stxrcrossed186 @imzadidragonfly @eddiemunsonswife @bidisastersworld @ghost-ly-s @romanticdestruction @walkingaftermidnight07 @anaibis @rainydays35 @mightbeasleep @sunfloweringstories @korixae and thanks to everyone who said nice things about this 🤍🌷

come back tomorrow for: here come the tears (and hurt/comfort, maybe) | read part 4 here