#this is just something that rotates in my brain a little when I think about Hazbin and Helluva's swearing

[ordinaryschmuck]

While you mentioned not liking the amount of swearing in Hazbin, I do kind of like that CHARLIE is still willing to swear. Because, with the type of character she is, you'd think she'd be less willing to, but no. Heck, her dad actually swears less than her. And that makes sense. She grew up in an environment where the people around her probably swore all the time and didn't care. It's kind of why I think she's less innocent than she'd seem regarding sex stuff. Like, she saw two people having sex and didn't seem put off, she knows what the term bukkake means, even when she went to Valentino's studio, before the stuff with Angel Dust, her reaction was less "scandalized" and more "Oh wow, this is all hot." Like, she's kind and sweeter than most people around her, but not the innocent Disney Princess she gives the vibe of.

I get what you're saying...but I don't know. I feel like if EVERY character swears, from the angels to the demons, it not only takes the PUNCH of the curse, it gives the sense that there's not everyone is so unique. Like, the dialogue and the energy each voice actor puts into the performance at least helps differentiate everyone, but to me, it feels like VivziePop makes her characters swear like Joss Whedon makes superheroes quip. It ignores the fact that dialogue is dependent on who's saying what, because if everyone talks the same then nobody's all that different. You could give the line to anybody and the effect would still the same.

Now, that's not to say I'm opposed to Charlie swearing at all. It's the same reason why I'm not against Batman making a quip in the original Justice League. When asked what his powers are and his response to go "I'm rich" is perfect. It's quick, it's dry, it's Batman. But him saying, "Yup, something is definitely bleeding" after Superman throws is awkward and could have, again, been said by anybody if they were thrown like a ragdoll by Supes. If you gotta make him quick, make him do it in a way that suits HIM.

Same goes for Charlie. If she's gotta swear, swear in a way that suits the optimistic princess...who happens to be the Princess of HELL. Have her say regular stuff like "hell" or even "shit" on the regular, but save the bigger stuff under her breath or when pushed to the brink. For example, there's this now dead show from the late and great Rooster Teeth called Camp Camp, which has a similar problem. Everybody's cursing left and right, with "Fuck" being the most popular word--I mean, it's a Rooster Teeth production. What are you going to do? The only characters who don't swear as often are Nicki, Space Kid, and, of course, David. So when THEY swear, it's either to give that extra PUNCH for the joke or for the dramatics, with David's first AND ONLY f-bomb in the series resonating with me all these years later since I first watched the show. It works because of the character who said it, not what was actually said. Because in a show where "Fuck" is said by almost everyone, HIM saying it hits the hardest because you would never expect it. And that's Hazbin's whole problem with almost every character cursing, especially Charlie.

You can have them swear as much as you want, but if everyone talks the same, are they really all that different?

[clockwayswrites]

Danny In Metropolis, ch3 p1

Masterpost

First draft and not read over. Migraine. Hurty. Currently on phone preying my green light helps. Please no edit or concrit <3

Despite their heart to heart about it, Danny still had to put a token complaint now and then about the lunches. Even with that, he ate every one. He also would also, in an oddly shy way, pass on thanks to Clark when there was something in the lunch that he really liked.

Kon made sure to tell each of those to Clark, in case, maybe, those things might make it more regularly into the rotation. He defended it to himself that it was just logical. If there were more things that Danny liked in the lunch, he was more likely to eat it all. As if Danny hadn’t eaten it all every day.

“So tell me about this Danny?” Lois asked with a smile that Kon didn’t quite trust.

For all that Clark was basically the alien embidiment of a cheerful, friendly golden lab, Lois was like a cliche cat. She was always after the canary too.

(She was also intimidating; she was more eloquent and put together than Kon would ever be, for all he pretended.)

“Um, he just moved here this year with his parents from somewhere in Illonois. Amity Park. He has an older sister, but she’s off at college.”

Lois stole one of the apple slices that Clark was cutting up. “What do his parents do?”

“Inventing of some sort. Danny doesn’t really like to talk about it,” Kon answered.

“A bit odd since he offered to come over and fix anything we needed fixing in return for the lunches,” Clark said. His back was to Kon, but he sounded like he was smiling.

The way Lois smiled when she glanced at Clark pretty much confirmed that. “Anything?”

“From dishwashers to computers to centrifuges,” Clark answered.

“Huh, well if our centrifuge ever breaks,” Lois drawled.

“I think that’s why he doesn’t like to talk about it. Like, I think that his parents used to have a lab at home or maybe more it felt more like they lived at the lab. They’re not supposed to do that anymore but,” Kon shrugged, “I guess habits die hard or something.”

“Hence the lunches,” Clark said. “Apparently food at home wasn’t always free of contamination, or at least percieve contamination.”

“Damn, poor kid,” Lois said, theiving another apple slice. “I guess you’ll just have to bring him home.”

Kon blinked and hoped to whoever that he wasn’t blushing. “Um, what?”

“For dinner,” Lois clarified with that dangerous little smile of hers. “Just to make sure he gets some good food then. I even promise to stay far away from the kitchen that night.”

“Oh, um, yeah, maybe?”

“You boys could work on that project after too,” Clark suggested, “pick Lois’ brain about poetry.”

“Oh god, poetry. I think I’m having flashbacks to Professor Eden’s class.”

“Bad class?”

“Amazing, but very, very weird. When God made that man, he broken the mold. I doubt there has ever been anyone else like him and the world is both better and worse for it. I may not be a poet, but he changed the way I looked at words.”

“Huh,” Kon said. “I guess… I can at least ask if he wants to come over.”

“For Friday. He can even spend the night if he wants,” Clark suggested. He turned around, handed Kon two lunch boxes, and just smiled back at whatever incredulous look Kon guessed he had on his face. “You’ve never had a sleepover, it might be fun.”

Kon felt confussed. “Um, like, every night at Titan’s Tower?”

“That’s more dorms than sleepover,” Lois said. “But just stick to dinner if that makes you uncomfortable, sweetie.”

“…right. Um, thanks, I’ll ask I guess,” Kon conceeded as he stuffed the lunch boxes in his backpack. “I better go before I’m late.”

“Have a good day at class,” Clark called after him.

“Dismantle the hetronormative patriarchy!” Lois added with a laugh at whatever look Clark sent her for that.

As if he could talk, he ran around in spandex with his underwear on the outside.

[animamii]

Junior year rolls around and ohh has highschoolsweetheart!Eren changed.

You hear him before you see him—his voice cutting through the morning hum of students catching up after the summer break. It’s familiar, unmistakable, and yet, when you turn around, your breath catches in your throat.

Oh.

This was not the Eren Yeager you left behind in sophomore year.

Gone was the lanky boy who used to trip over his own feet during gym class, the one who wore those wrinkled short-sleeved button-downs with the same rotation of black skinny jeans and scuffed Converse. The Eren standing before you now was… different.

Taller. Broader. The summer had done something to him—his arms, his shoulders, his entire build had filled out in a way that made your brain short-circuit for a moment. His hair, once perpetually messy but in a boyish kind of way, had grown out just enough to curl at the ends. He still had that same wild energy, the same excitement in his eyes as he grinned at you, but there was something undeniably new about him. And he was pretty. Not that he wasn’t always attractive—he was, and you’d never denied it to yourself. But this? This was unfair.

“y/n!!” He reaches you in a few easy strides, completely oblivious to the way your brain is currently buffering. Before you can even react, he’s throwing an arm around your shoulders like it’s nothing, pulling you in for one of those classic Yeager side hugs, all warm and familiar and way too casual for the internal meltdown you’re having.

“Dude, I haven’t seen you all summer!” he exclaims, ruffling your hair in that annoying way he always does, like you’re still kids and he doesn’t look like he walked straight out of a teenage coming-of-age movie. “Why’d you ignore my texts? I was about to file a missing person report.”

You blink. He’s looking at you like he hasn’t changed at all, like he isn’t standing there all tall and golden, like he isn’t suddenly one of the hottest guys in school. And you? You’re still standing there like an idiot, trying to piece together a response.

“I— I was busy,” you manage to say, and it’s only half a lie. You had been busy, but you’d also needed space. Space to sort out the mess of feelings that being best friends with Eren Yeager had turned into over the years.

Eren, being Eren, doesn’t notice your internal crisis. “Pfft, busy. You mean ghosting me?” he teases, nudging your side. “I should’ve just shown up at your house.”

You scoff, regaining some of your composure as you roll your eyes. “Like my mom wouldn’t have loved that. She’s still convinced we’re secretly dating.”

Eren barks out a laugh, shaking his head as he tosses it back. “She’s been saying that since middle school. At this point, I think she’s just manifesting.”

Your heart lurches at his words, but you shove the feeling down. This is Eren. Your best friend. The same guy who used to perform Justin Bieber songs in the middle of the quad for you. He might look different now, but he’s still him. Even if the way people are starting to stare at him—at you two together—is making your stomach twist in a way you’re not quite ready to admit.

The first day of junior year had barely started, and yet, you already felt like you were walking through some alternate reality. Eren was still draped over you, arm slung around your shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world, completely oblivious to the way people were looking. Correction: the way people were looking at him. It was impossible to ignore. You could hear the whispers as you walked down the hallway together, the way heads turned when he passed.

You roll your eyes, scoffing as you nudge him off you, but the warmth of his arm lingers on your shoulder. “Yeah, well, she’s gonna have to give it up eventually. We’re not dating.” You don't know if you say it to convince yourself that there is no possibility it would become reality.

Eren grins like a bad little kid, his eyes glinting in that Eren Yeager way that usually spells trouble. “Not yet.”

Your heart does this annoying little skip in your chest, but you quickly shove him with more force this time, scowling to hide the smile that forms against your own will. “Shut up.”

He just laughs, dodging your next attack like the menace he is. “Damn, I missed you,” he grins, and there’s something about the way he says it—casual, easy, genuine—that makes your stomach flip. You hate how easily he gets under your skin. How he annoyingly burrowed his way into your heart.

Before you can retaliate, a group of girls passes by, whispering not-so-subtly behind their hands. You recognize some of them—volleyball girls, cheerleaders, a couple of girls from your English class—but they barely spare you a glance. Their eyes are all locked on Eren. And he knows it. The worst part? You know he knows it, too.

One of them, a tall blonde with perfectly curled hair, flashes him a bright smile. “Hey, Eren,” she says, twirling a strand around her finger like it's a damn high school movie. You're usually a girl's girl, but right now you were shooting daggers at her.

Eren, to his credit, doesn’t look phased. He just tilts his head, grinning in that annoying way that makes your blood boil. “Hey.”

That’s it. Hey. And yet, the girl giggles, and you want to die. It’s like some cruel joke. Last year, nobody would have given him a second glance. He was your Eren—goofy, loud, a little dorky, always getting himself into trouble. Now? Now he’s on the varsity football team, his arms are looking a little too good in that fitted black tee, and suddenly he’s the guy every girl is looking at.

You hate it. You don’t even know why you hate it, but you do.

Eren barely acknowledges them, turning back to you like nothing happened. “Anyway,” he says, slinging an arm over your shoulder again like it’s nothing, like he doesn’t know what he’s doing to you. “What class you got first?”

You shake yourself out of whatever weird haze you’re in, clearing your throat. “Uh—math. Mr. Moblit.” Your eyes scan over the salmon pink piece of paper that held your class schedule, and Eren leans in just a little too close to read it.

He groans, dramatically throwing his head back. “Ugh, lucky. I got stuck with Mr. Shadis.”

You snicker. “That sucks.” You can't help but smile when you see the same characteristics from Eren. Even if he did look fine ass hell, oh so different from last year, he still acted the same.

“I know, right?” He sighs, dropping his head onto your shoulder in fake despair. “If I fail, just know it’s because Shadis has it out for me.”

“You fail because you never pay attention,” you remind him. You've had plenty of classes with Eren, with him always sitting next to you. He would be doing anything but pay attention.

“Okay, but, like, who even uses calculus in real life?” Eren squints his eyes, and you can feel every little movement he does as his head rests on your shoulder.

You roll your eyes, shoving him off you for the second time, ignoring the way your skin tingles where his head was resting. “Come on, dummy. We’re gonna be late.”

He groans again but follows after you anyway, falling into step beside you like always. Like nothing’s changed. Except everything has changed. And you’re starting to realize you have no idea what to do about it.

Lunch rolls around, and you find yourself dragging your feet through the cafeteria, still processing the weirdness of the morning. You’re not sure what to make of Eren’s sudden glow-up—or the way your chest does this annoying little flutter every time he looks at you like nothing’s changed. All the effort of trying to get over your little crush on Eren was wiped clean, the boy really had a grip on your heart now.

You end up at your usual lunch table, the one you share with Ymir and Historia, Sasha too but she was going to the culinary club's welcome party because duh, Sasha isn't going to miss out on extra free food. The two of them are already sitting, bickering about something stupid, but the moment you drop into the seat next to them, it’s like they both sense something’s off. They can feel the energy radiating off of you, the look on your face when something is bothering you. Ymir eyes you with a raised brow, and Historia’s gaze flickers to the door, where Eren is walking in, looking effortlessly cool, chatting with Armin as they make their way toward your table.

“Oh, boy,” Ymir mutters under her breath. “You’ve got that look on your face. What’s going on with you and Yeager?”

"How do you know it's something between me and Eren?" You raise an eyebrow, a little frustrated that she knows you so well.

"It's always about Yeager," Ymir and Historia say in unison, giving you that look of obviousness.

You roll your eyes. “It’s nothing. We’re fine.” A deep sigh still escapes your lips as you open the bottle of apple juice your lunch came with.

“Mmmhmm,” Ymir hums skeptically, but she doesn’t push it. Historia, on the other hand, flashes you a concerned smile. Her brows perch up with sympathy.

“You sure? You’ve been acting… different.” Her voice is soft, almost too knowing, but it’s enough to make you squirm.

“Seriously, I’m fine,” you say, the words coming out a little sharper than you intended. But it’s not like they’re wrong. You have been acting weird. And it’s all because of Eren, damn that boy.

Your thoughts are cut short as Eren plops down next to you, his familiar arm slinging around your shoulders like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Yo! What’s up, guys?” His voice is as loud and cheerful as always, but there’s something in the way his eyes linger on you that makes your stomach twist. Ymir raises an eyebrow, but Eren doesn’t seem to notice. Historia’s gaze flits between you two, but she stays quiet, focusing on her lunch.

“Hey, y/n,” Eren says, his voice a little softer now, and you feel your heart race. “You doing okay?” Your eyes flicker to him, seeing his pretty face in a concerned look as he stares at the side of your internally panicked face. It's enough to make your insides ache, enough to make your heart beat a thousand times faster.

“Yeah, just… tired,” you reply, shrugging it off like it’s no big deal, even though your mind is anything but calm.

“You sure?” His expression softens, and for a second, it’s like the world fades out, leaving just the two of you. His hand, warm against your back, feels like it’s burning right through your shirt. “You don’t look fine.”

You can’t help the heat that rises to your cheeks. “I’m fine, really.”

Eren nods but doesn’t look convinced. He leans in a little, lowering his voice so only you can hear, “If you say so. Just know, if you need anything, I’ve got your back, yeah?”

Your heart stutters at his words, the genuine concern in his voice tugging at something deep inside you. But the moment is interrupted by the loud cackle of a voice from across the table.

“You hear that, Historia?” Ymir teases, her grin far too knowing. “Eren’s looking out for y/n. Makes me wonder if you’ve got competition, huh?”

Eren laughs, unbothered, and flicks Ymir’s ear. “Shut up, Ymir. You know it’s just—” He looks at you for a moment, his grin faltering, then shrugs it off. “Just what we do. We're best friends. Nothing weird.”

You feel your heart drop a little, but you brush it off. “Right. Nothing weird.” It's almost as if you're trying to reassure yourself, which, let's be honest, you really were trying to. Trying to convince yourself that it's all in your head.

But the way Eren’s smiling at you, like he knows more than he’s letting on, makes your pulse race. His eyes linger a little too long, and you wonder if he’s trying to figure something out, too. The tension is palpable, thick enough that even Ymir and Historia seem to sense it. They share a glance, but neither of them says anything. Instead, Ymir kicks you under the table—hard enough to make you wince.

“Aye, stop thinking too much,” Ymir's expression says, clearly reading you like an open book. She doesn't even have to say anything for you to understand what she's trying to say “Just enjoy the moment. Eren’s not going anywhere.” And for the first time today, you almost believe her.

The conversation drifts as you try to settle back into the easy rhythm of lunch. But the moment is short lived. The clatter of trays and the loud chatter of students fills the air, and before you can catch your breath, a new wave of noise arrives.

Reiner, with his usual cocky grin, leads the pack of jocks toward your table. His broad frame and confident swagger draw attention the way Eren’s used to, but this time, you can’t help but notice the way the girls at nearby tables watch Reiner too. He’s got that easy, good-looking charm, but there's something about Eren that just hits different, even now, when the jocks are slowly taking over the cafeteria’s social pecking order.

“Yo, Yeager!” Reiner calls, leaning over the back of your seat, making you jump in surprise. “You ditching us for the weirdos?”

Eren’s arm drops from your shoulders as he shifts his attention to Reiner, but not without a small, teasing grin. “If you’re calling them weirdos, I think you’ve got the wrong table, man.”

A few of the other guys laugh, though it’s more because it’s Eren, and he’s got that goofy, unpredictable humor. The girls now huddled around your table all stand up a little straighter, their eyes darting toward Eren, and you feel a sudden, sharp pang of frustration deep in your chest. You try to ignore it, to keep the casual mask in place, but something’s different now. The subtle tension between Eren and you—it’s like it’s palpable to everyone but the two of you.

Reiner, not one to let Eren off easy, takes a seat beside him, shoving his shoulder lightly. “Come on, man, we’ve got practice in an hour. I’m dragging you back, and we’re gonna talk strategy, not... whatever this is.” His eyes flick over to you, and you swear you catch a hint of amusement in them. It’s like he knows something you don’t.

Eren glances back at you, his expression a little unsure, like he’s debating whether to stay or go. For a brief moment, his eyes soften, but then, in typical Eren fashion, he shrugs and grins, looking more at ease than you feel. A part of you hopes he'll choose to stay, just to reassure you that things really didn't change.

“Alright, alright, I’ll go. But only because you’re begging.” He stands up, brushing his hands off as if he’s wiping away the conversation, like he doesn’t even see the way your heart drops when he stands a little too far away from you now.

You open your mouth to say something—anything—but the words get stuck. All that leaves your mouth is a disappointed huff of a breath. Eren turns back toward you, like he’s about to say something, but then his attention shifts to the group of jocks calling him over.

“Later, y/n!” he calls, throwing a casual wave over his shoulder. “Don’t miss me too much, alright?”

You’re left frozen, your hand still halfway raised as you force a smile, though it feels more like a grimace. Reiner slaps Eren’s back in that overly friendly way he always does, and Eren just laughs, falling into step with him as they make their way to the other side of the cafeteria. You hate the way your stomach twists watching them go. It’s like they’re speaking an entirely different language—one you’re not part of. The table around you is quieter now. Historia looks at you, her expression sympathetic, but Ymir—well, she looks way too smug for your liking.

“Wanna talk about it?” Ymir teases, but it’s not unkind.

You sigh, dropping your gaze to your lunch. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Uh huh,” Ymir replies, that knowing smirk still lingering on her lips. “I’m pretty sure Eren’s just trying to keep his cool in front of the jocks. You’ve seen the way he’s been around you lately. He likes you, trust me.”

You frown, not sure how to respond. Eren might be acting like nothing’s changed, but everything has changed. And the worst part? You’re not sure if he even knows it yet.

“Don’t worry,” Historia sympathetically adds, her tone reassuring. “He’ll figure it out eventually. You’ll figure it out.”

You give a noncommittal hum, not sure if you're ready to figure anything out just yet. But as you glance across the room, watching Eren laugh with Reiner and the others, you can't shake the feeling that something’s coming. Something big. Some type of shift. You spend the rest of lunch pushing food around your tray, pretending not to notice the way your eyes keep flickering toward the jock table.

Eren looks good—annoyingly, frustratingly good. He’s leaned back in his chair, laughing at something Jean said, that lazy grin plastered across his face like he doesn’t have a single care in the world. His long fingers drum absentmindedly against the table, and when one of the cheerleaders—Annie’s friend Hitch, you think—leans in to whisper something to him, your stomach twists.

You snap your gaze away, cursing yourself. Why are you even watching? You’re not his girlfriend. You’re his best friend. And best friends do not sit there like jealous exes just because other girls are realizing what you’ve known for years—Eren Yeager is stupidly, effortlessly attractive.

“You’re making it too obvious.” Ymir’s voice is flat and teasing. You don’t even have to look at her to know she’s smirking.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mutter, shoving a bite of food into your mouth just to have something to do.

“Mm. Right. And I’m straight.” Ymir leans on her fist, watching you with open amusement. Historia sighs, nudging her in the ribs before giving you a softer look.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Historia offers, “he hasn’t actually looked at her once.”

Your eyes dart up before you can stop yourself, and— Historia’s right. Eren’s nodding along to something Reiner’s saying, but his gaze keeps drifting. He’s scanning the cafeteria, like he’s looking for something. Or someone. And then, just like that, his eyes find yours. For a second, time stutters.

Eren’s lips part slightly, like he wasn’t expecting to catch you staring, and for a fleeting moment, something flickers across his face. Something unsure. Something vulnerable. But then Reiner nudges him—too hard, probably on purpose—and Eren snaps out of it, laughing as he shoves him back. And just like that, the moment is gone. You exhale sharply, turning away. You hate this. The push and pull, the way he makes you feel like maybe—just maybe—there’s something more, only to act like nothing’s changed the next second. Maybe nothing has changed. Maybe the only thing different is you.

“You should talk to him,” Historia says gently.

You scoff, picking at your food. “And say what? ‘Hey, Eren, just wondering if you’ve realized you’re hot yet and if that means you’re too good for me now?’”

Ymir cackles, hands drumming on the lunch table as she childishly kicks her feet. “I mean, I would pay to see you say that to his face.”

You groan, rubbing your temples. “This is a nightmare. It's never been this complicated with Eren before.” It had always been complicated, but not this complicated.

Historia opens her mouth to say something else, but before she can, the cafeteria doors swing open, and the familiar screech of a whistle pierces the air.

“Football team! Practice starts now!” Coach Smith stands at the entrance, arms crossed, his stoic expression already promising death if they don’t get to moving. The jock table groans, but they all start standing, grabbing their trays. Eren stretches as he gets up, his shirt riding up just enough to show a hint of skin, and you swear you hear one of the volleyball girls sigh dreamily. You roll your eyes so hard it almost hurts.

Eren turns, catching your expression, and grins. “What’s that look for?”

You school your face into something neutral, a deadpan almost. “Nothing. Just wondering if you’ll survive an entire practice without getting distracted by your fan club.”

He blinks, then laughs—like really laughs, loud and unfiltered. “Pfft, fan club? Yeah, right.”

You open your mouth, ready to argue, but then you stop. Because—he’s serious. He really doesn’t see it. All the stares, the whispers, the way girls—entire groups of them—are looking at him like he hung the damn moon. He doesn’t even notice. Eren’s still just Eren, in his own head. You should be relieved. Maybe you are. But mostly, you just feel confused and overwhelmed.

“Well, try not to get tackled into the ground,” you say instead, grabbing your drink to take a sip.

Eren grins, nudging you lightly as he starts to walk away. “Aw, you worried about me, y/n?”

The drink nearly chokes you, the cooing tone of his voice making you feel uneasy and bashful. “Not even a little.”

He just laughs, throwing one last lazy wave over his shoulder before jogging after Reiner and the rest of the team. And you? You watch him go, stomach twisting, hating the way his absence already feels like a weight pressing down on your chest.

The late afternoon sun hangs low in the sky, casting long shadows over the football field. The team is mid-drill, running play after play under the sharp bark of Coach Smith. Eren is breathless, sweat slicking his skin, but his mind isn’t really in it. Not fully, anyway.

Because you’re sitting on the bleachers, and you’re laughing at something Historia just said, and it’s distracting as hell. His gaze keeps flickering toward the bleachers, toward where you’re sitting with your friends. You look relaxed, leaning back with one knee pulled up. He can’t hear a word from this far, but that doesn’t matter. He knows your expressions by heart—every little eye roll, every laugh, the way your lips purse when you’re pretending to be annoyed but aren’t really.

He’s staring again.

“Yeager! Focus!” The loud shout of Coach Smith jolts him out of his trance, but it’s too late. Whooosh.

Eren barely ducks in time to avoid a pass he wasn’t paying attention to. Jean groans in exasperation, throwing his head back and smacking his hands on his pads. “Dude, wake up! What the hell are you even looking at?”

Eren shakes his head quickly, clearing his throat. “Nothing,” he lies, trying to mask the way his heartbeat kicks up. Grabbing the football that he failed to catch, slackly tossing it back to Jean.

Jean, of course, is already following his gaze, his eyes landing exactly where Eren doesn’t want them to. The smirk that stretches across Jean’s face is almost unbearable. “Right. Nothing.”

Eren scowls, shoving Jean as he jogs past. But before he can settle back into formation, something shifts near the bleachers��movement that immediately snags his attention. Someone’s walking up to you. Eren’s brows furrow as he squints. The guy is tall, lanky, his bright red hair messy in a way that seems purposefully unkempt. He’s wearing a ripped band tee, chains dangling from his jeans, and—oh, great. Floch Forster.

The guy moves with a swagger that makes Eren’s teeth grind. Ripped jeans, faded punk band tee, chains dangling from his belt loops—he looks like he just crawled out of a basement concert. Floch has always been a talker, a surprisingly smooth one at that, and judging by the way he leans in, he’s in full flirt mode. Eren watches, growing tenser by the second. He expects you to roll your eyes, wave him off, something. But you don’t. You tilt your head slightly, a small, amused smile tugging at your lips. Why aren’t you moving away? Eren’s jaw tightens. Then Floch takes another step closer. That’s it.

Eren doesn’t even realize his feet are moving until Jean grabs his jersey. “Dude, where are you—?”

“I’ll be back,” Eren mutters, ripping himself free and jogging toward the bleachers before anyone can stop him.

You hadn’t expected company, least of all from Floch Forster. Historia had just nudged you, muttering something about incoming trouble, and before you could even react, there he was—Florian “Floch” Forster, king of misplaced confidence, leaning against the railing like he had all the time in the world. You don’t hate Floch. You don’t like him, either, but he’s harmless enough. He’s always been a little too flirty, but in a way that’s more for show than anything else.

“Well, well,” he drawls, his signature gaudy smirk already in place. “If it isn’t the prettiest girl in the bleachers.”

You exhale through your nose. “Oh, god.”

Floch grins, clearly unfazed. “What? That’s a genuine compliment. You’re breaking my heart here, y/n.” His tone is cocky, almost annoying.

You tilt your head, unimpressed. “Do you even have one?” A grin forms on your face, it felt kind of good to banter and maybe knock him down a peg.

“Oof.” He presses a dramatic hand to his chest, cheesing way too hard. “Harsh. But hey, I like a challenge. Y’know, if you ever wanna find out, I could show you—”

“You couldn’t,” you cut in. It's a little abrupt, shocks Historia a bit at the snappiness, but it just comes out.

Floch laughs, plopping down beside you with zero hesitation. “Alright, alright, I’ll cut to the chase.” He leans back on his palms, eyes flicking toward the football field before settling back on you. “How long are you gonna keep pretending your best friend isn’t in love with you?”

You choke on your drink, sitting up straighter now as you sputter a cough. “Excuse me?”

Floch just raises a brow, looking entirely too smug for your liking. “Come on, y/n. The guy stares at you like you hung the goddamn stars. It’s actually painful to watch.”

Your face burns, but you force a scoff. “You’re delusional.”

Floch shakes his head, watching your reaction closely. “Am I? He’s been in love with you since, what, forever? But the dude’s an idiot, so I get why you’re waiting. He’s probably still convinced you’re out of his league.” Out of his league?

Something about that statement makes your stomach clench. That’s not true. Right? Floch doesn’t miss the flicker of doubt in your eyes. His smirk stretches a little wider, sensing an opening.

“But y’know,” he continues, shifting closer, voice dropping just slightly, “if he’s not gonna make a move, maybe you should let someone else have a shot.”

Your lips part, caught off guard. “What?”

Floch leans in just enough for the air between you to thin, to start smelling like his axe cologne. “I’m just saying,” he murmurs. “Maybe you should let someone who actually sees you take you out sometime.”

Oh, you think, heartbeat stuttering slightly. Although your mind was still half focused on what he said about Eren. Before you can formulate a response, something shifts in the air—sharp and tense.

“Oh, hell no.”

The voice is unmistakable. Your head snaps up just in time to see Eren—sweaty, breathless, and looking pissed—hopping the railing in one effortless motion.

Floch doesn’t move. He just smirks. “Well, speak of the devil.”

Eren doesn’t respond, his fists clenching at his sides. His green eyes—usually filled with something bright, warm—are now dark with irritation.

“What the hell are you doing here, Forster?”

Floch tilts his head, all mock innocence. “Relax, man. Just having a friendly conversation.”

Eren’s jaw ticks. “Yeah? Well, have it somewhere else.”

The tension is thick, electric with an almost uncomfortable tension. You glance between them, unsure if you should intervene. Maybe you should, but all you can do is look up at Eren. The way some strands of hair stick to his forehead, the way his thick brows are furrowed. The way he almost seems territorial over you.

Floch exhales, shaking his head like this is all some kind of joke. He shifts his gaze back to you. “Really? You’re just gonna let him chase me off like that?”

You hesitate. And that hesitation is all Floch needs.

He incredulously chuckles under his breath, standing up and dusting himself off. “Man,” he mutters, shaking his head. “You really don’t see it, do you?”

Eren’s jaw tightens. “See what?”

Floch flashes one last cynical smirk before turning to leave. “Nothing, man. Nothing at all.”

And just like that, he’s gone, his chains jingling as he strolls down the metal steps like he hadn’t just stirred up a storm. The silence he leaves behind is suffocating.

You exhale, crossing your arms as you finally shake out of your daze. “That was so unnecessary.”

Eren scoffs, finally looking at you. “He’s a dick.”

You narrow your eyes. “He wasn’t doing anything wrong.”

Eren looks at you then, really looks at you, and for a split second, something unreadable flickers behind his eyes. His lips part like he wants to say something—something important—but instead, he just shakes his head.

“Forget it.”

And with that, he turns, hopping back over the railing and jogging toward the field without a second glance. But you know better. It wasn’t nothing. And now, you don’t know what to do about it.

Eren doesn’t look at you for the rest of practice. Not once. It’s infuriating. From your spot on the bleachers, you watch as he throws himself back into drills like he’s got something to prove, pushing harder than necessary, muscles taut with tension. His jaw is tight, brows furrowed in concentration—but you know him. You know when he’s actually focused and when he’s just using the game as an excuse to run from something. You also know what—or who—he’s running from.

You exhale, frustrated. It’s not like you wanted Floch’s attention. Hell, you would’ve been fine never speaking to him again. But Eren had stormed over like he owned you, like it was his problem to handle, and now he won’t even look at you? It was all too confusing.

Eren misses a catch from Bertholdt, taking off his helmet and throwing it to the ground with an audible 'fuck!' that echoed around the football field. Running a hand through his sweat drenched hair, the frustration in his face is super evident.

Historia, sitting beside you, hums in amusement. “That was deliciously messy,” she murmurs, sipping from her water bottle. "The whole situation. Possessive Eren, the little bicker, everything."

“It’s annoying.” A scoff leaves your lips and you can't help but stare at Eren with a confused and irritated expression.

“Oh, it’s both.”

Ymir snickers, her sunglass covered eyes looking at the way Eren is still pouting. “Dumbass is jealous.”

You roll your eyes. “He is not jealous.”

Ymir glances at you with an expression so patronizing you want to shove her off the bleachers. “Right. He just lost his entire mind over Floch flirting with you for no reason at all.”

You open your mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. Because—yeah. The thing is, Eren isn’t the jealous type. He’s never been possessive over you before, never given you any reason to think he cared about who talked to you. He’s always been the annoying one—flirting playfully, ruffling your hair, teasing you about your nonexistent love life like it was all some big joke. And maybe it was. Maybe he was just messing around, just playing into the dynamic you’d always had. But today felt different. And that scared you more than anything.

You wait for him by the locker room. It’s a stupid idea. You know it’s a stupid idea. You could’ve gone home, could’ve ignored the way your pulse has been pounding ever since practice ended, ever since he stormed off like you did something wrong. You could’ve pretended it didn’t bother you—the way he looked right through you for the rest of practice, the way his body went stiff when you so much as moved in his direction, the way he threw himself into drills like he was trying to hit something that wasn’t there.

But you’re still here. Waiting.

The late afternoon sun is sinking lower in the sky, drenching everything in a honey-gold glow. It should be pretty, peaceful even, but the knot in your stomach makes it hard to appreciate. The air is thick, humid from the lingering heat of the day, and your skin feels sticky, uncomfortable. The locker room door swings open in intervals, groups of players filtering out, laughing, talking about parties, weekend plans, things you can’t bring yourself to care about.

Then—finally—he steps out. Eren.

You feel his presence before you even see him, your body going still, your heart stuttering in your chest. He looks good. Unfairly so. His hoodie is loose over his shoulders, damp hair falling into his face, a few strands curling at the ends. His skin is still flushed from exertion, the glow of the sunset catching on the sharp lines of his jaw, the hollow of his throat where the collar of his hoodie has slipped down just enough. He’s effortlessly attractive, in a way that makes your stomach twist with something you don’t want to name.

He notices you immediately. Stops in his tracks. Something flickers across his face—something unreadable—but then it’s gone, replaced by a carefully neutral expression, like he wasn’t just throwing a damn fit over you and Floch thirty minutes ago.

Your arms cross tightly over your chest. “You ran off.”

Eren exhales, looking past you, jaw tight and thick brows furrowed. “Didn’t run.” His voice is flat, clipped. You know him too well to miss the way his fingers twitch at his sides, the way his shoulders are tense even though he’s trying to look casual.

You take a step closer. “Eren.”

His jaw ticks. “What?”

That’s all he says—short, sharp, like a blade cutting through the space between you. It makes irritation flare in your chest, a spark igniting beneath your ribs. He’s the one who lost his mind over nothing. He’s the one who got weird. And now he’s acting like you’re the problem?

You grit your teeth. “Are you seriously mad at me?”

His head snaps toward you so fast it nearly startles you. “Mad at you?” He lets out a dry, humorless scoff, running a hand through his hair, making the damp strands even messier. “I’m not—" he cuts off for a second, rubbing that same hand over his face with a groan, "Jesus, y/n. I just don’t get why you were even entertaining that guy.”

Your stomach drops. The word entertaining rubs you the wrong way, makes your irritation flare into something hotter. “I wasn’t entertaining anyone,” you snap, voice tight with attitude.

Eren exhales sharply, shifting his weight like he’s trying to hold something back. “He was all over you.” yeah, he was dragging it.

Your lips press together. “And?”

His eyes darken, flickering with something upsetting, something raw and vulnerable. “And I didn’t like it.”

It’s barely above a whisper, but it slams into you like a physical force. Your breath catches. The words linger between you, heavy, charged with something neither of you can name but both of you can feel. Your heartbeat is erratic, hammering against your ribs. You’re staring at him, searching his face for answers, for clarity, for anything—but he’s already looking away, already forcing his expression into something other than frustrated jealously, like he didn’t just say something that made your entire world shift on its axis.

He knows. You know he knows. And that terrifies both of you.

He inhales sharply, like he’s about to say something else—but then he stops himself. A muscle in his jaw twitches before he shakes his head with a seemingly defeated sigh. “Forget it.”

“No,” you say quickly, stepping forward, voice urgent, desperate. “Eren—”

But he’s already turning away. Already walking. And this time, you don’t try to stop him. Because the truth is—You’re just as scared as he is.

You don’t know how long you stand there, staring at the space he left behind. Minutes? Seconds? It feels longer than it probably is, but the weight in your chest doesn’t go away. You don’t get it. You’ve had arguments with Eren before. Dumb ones. Stupid ones. He’s annoyed you a million times, and you’ve annoyed him right back. But this? This hurts in a way you don’t know how to process.

Because it felt real. Because it felt like something cracked open between you—something undeniable. And because deep down, in the part of you that you’ve tried to shove away for years, you know the truth: You don’t want him to be okay with other guys flirting with you. You don’t want him to treat you the same way he treats every other girl. And if today proved anything—if the way he reacted, the way he looked at you was any sign—maybe he doesn’t want that either. Maybe he never did.

Eren’s hands are clenched into fists as he walks, barely registering the conversations around him. His heart is still pounding. His body is itching with leftover adrenaline, but it has nothing to do with practice. What the hell was that? His own words play back in his mind, over and over. "I didn’t like it." What the fuck was he thinking, saying that out loud?

He’s been reckless before. He’s flirted with you for years—always playfully, always in a way that he could pass off as a joke. But that? That wasn’t a joke. That was raw, unfiltered, stupid.

Because he can’t have you. Because you don’t see him that way. Because even if you did, he’s not good enough for you. You’re y/n. You’re his best friend. The girl who somehow makes everything in his life feel a little easier, a little lighter, just by being around. The girl he’s been in love with since he was old enough to understand what love is.

And you deserve someone better. Someone who isn’t just figuring out his place in the world. Someone who isn’t Eren Yeager—impulsive, reckless, always getting himself into trouble.

But even knowing that—Even knowing he should stop—He still turns around, just for a second, just to look back. Just to see if you’re still standing there. And when he sees you—arms crossed, head slightly bowed, looking like you’re caught up in your own spiral—It fucking kills him. Because if he wasn’t such a coward, he’d tell you the truth. That he doesn’t just like you. He’s yours. He’s always been yours. But it’s too late now. And it’s all his fault.

[keferon]

Eh okay so. My brain is absolutely cooked so you will probably just have to ignore the linguistic fuckups

Jazz and Prowl learning to communicate because language barrier is a thing >:D

Previous part

Jazz sometimes thinks that somewhere along his career path he lost the bar separating normal from...well...everything else.

After all he's seen, heard about, and done, he's not sure exactly how to measure what's weird and what's normal. He has..the general idea.

His own. And it's so convoluted and fucked up that he'd rather jump into a volcano than try to explain it to anyone else. Jazz thinks the little colorful aliens around him are weird as hell. He thinks they sound weird, he thinks they look weird, and he thinks he must be going crazy.

And then this big black and white robot catches his eye and Jazz's first thought is not "what the fuck??"

His first thought is

"Thank God! Someone's normal!"

Whoever this guy is, he sounds like he knows what he's doing. And most importantly, he looks just like Jazz. Well, not exactly. But close enough. After all, Jazz knows that his organization wasn't the only mech maker on the entire planet. Other countries were making Mechs too, and Jazz hadn't seen even half of them.

But he can recognize a giant robot when he sees one, okay?

The thought that another mech could be an alien doesn't even enter his mind.

So used to the constant presence of huge piloted robots around him, he looks at this one and clings to its appearance as something familiar and easily explainable. His brain says, we know how this works. There's a robot and inside the robot there's another person. It's the way it's always been. The sky is blue, the grass is green and the robots are human-piloted. It's that simple.

The guy takes him to the far corner of the room and says something. Jazz…doesn't understand..

The mech's face contorts in a surprisingly believable display of concentration. How...who built this robot? How could they make it frown?

He hears something else being said to him but again can't understand a word. Why won't this pilot get out of the mech to talk to him? Jazz doesn't have his communication frequency but surely they could at least shake hands. There must be some reason. Maybe something wrong with the air? Is it dangerous to be outside? This guy should know better, he's been here longer than Jazz, it seems.

(Damn it, whose idea was it to make a mech with a face, it's so distracting)

He rushes to activate the external speakers, because he and this guy obviously speak different languages, but it never hurts to try, right?

"So uh, I don't think you can understand English?"

Mech frowns again, trying to pick up on something familiar in a language that's apparently new to him. But finds nothing. Jazz lowers his horns sadly.

Oh well. Fuck. As if being stuck in an unknown place with unknown creatures wasn't enough, he can't even talk to anyone! How is he supposed to get out of here? Which way should he even go?

The mech waves his hand to get his attention and then pulls out a tablet and a stylus from..where ?

Jazz somehow manages to overlook the fact that the tablet is made to fit the mech's size. His head is still feels a bit…off..after that portal thingie.

"Charades it is then."

____________________

An hour and a half later, Jazz finds himself staring intensely at the screen in front of him with a surprisingly neatly drawn chart on it.

"So uh. Motion."

The other guy nods and starts drawing a walking mech. Then something that looks like a very unusual car. Then a submarine. Jazz gets a little lost looking at how skillful he is with the stylus.

Honestly, he's a good artist!

The guy points to the sketch of a walking mech and says

" Motion."

Then points to the drawing of a car driving and the columns of the chart.

"Motion-rotation" he points to the car again.

That must mean "driving" huh? Jazz nods understandingly.

Mech moves his finger to the submarine.

"Motion-Water."

Ah, it must mean swimming. Jazz nods once more, feeling like a wind-up dummy repeating the same motion a dozen times.

The mech makes a quiet humming noise and then points to the chart

"Motion. Sky."

And then gives Jazz the stylus?

Uh, what is he... Oh, he wants Jazz to figure out what it means.

"Motion" and "sky," right?

Jazz takes the stylus? Pencil? Thingie.. and very carefully draws out a crooked scribble of something only remotely resembling an airplane. The mech arches an eyebrow and looks like he wants to laugh.

Jazz shrugs awkwardly and tries to add windows to the airplane, but ends up making it look more like a severely fucked up caterpillar.

Mech snorts.

Jazz kicks him in the leg.

The airplane begs for a merciful death.

Jazz didn't really expect to get into a language class but he has to admit that whatever language he's learning now is a surprisingly easy one. It only took the other dude half an hour to show him the basic concept and from there it became a game of associations.

There were simple definitions. Like size, quantity, speed, emotion and so on.

There were signs that automatically turned the whole sentence into a question or a statement.

There were modifiers that Jazz defined in his head as positive and negative.

Positive speed - fast.

Positive size - large.

Positive direction - forward.

Positive time - future.

There were also basic words for senses, emotions and whatnot, also with modifiers.

Mouth-positive - to speak

Brain-positive - to think, but negative-brain-do-positive - to learn.

Huh.

And it's so neatly organized that Jazz wondered if this language was designed specifically to be easy to learn.

Let's see....

Mouth - positive, effort - negative.

"Easy to speak."

The guy nods contentedly and starts talking back, while pointing to the appropriate columns of the chart to make it easier for Jazz to understand.

"Creation-positive. Purpose. Person-negative-knowledge. memory-positive-effort-negative."

Jazz frowns, concentrating on his finger.

Oh. Created. For those who don't know it. Easy to learn.

He was right. The whole thing is waaaay too awkward to write poetry but learning it is a delight.

Jazz leans over the chart.

All right, well, let's see.

“Name. You. Question?”

The other guy smiles and pokes at the chart

"Me.Motion-sound-negative.Negative-eyes-positive-someone."

Walk quietly. searching?… Sneaking?

Oh, it's not "to sneak" it's "to prowl"

"Prowl" nods affirmatively. Jazz smiles at him and looks at the chart again. Okay. How to say “music”?..

“word-knowledge-negative.”

He stops to make a gesture with his hands, as if playing an invisible piano while humming a tune.

Prowl nods

“Sound-positive-positive-hearing.”

Jazz chuckles

“A whole two positives eh? Okay then. Uh. You don't look like you listen to jazz....so..”

“Me. Name. Sound-positive-positive-listening.”

Prowl raises his eyebrows. (Jazz is jealous, he wishes he had eyebrows too.)

“You're a musician?"

Jazz quickly shakes his head while simultaneously muting the outside speakers to a barely audible level and turning on one of the songs on his playlist.

Prowl twitches in surprise when he hears the melody.

Jazz waits for the intro to finish playing and then points to himself

“Creation-negative..uh..Sound-positive-positive-hearing. Jazz. This...”

He pats himself lightly on the chest.

"..is me. Jazz."

Prowl straightens up slightly

“Oh, you're not a musician, you're the music.”

Jazz nods cheerfully

“Yes yes!”

“Jaaz?”

“No no. Jazz.”

“Ah. Jazz?”

“That's right.”

Prowl draws a portal on the screen.

“You teleported here. What happened?”

Jazz hangs back, trying to construct an answer in his head. Good thing Prowl seems to have infinite patience

“So, I uh. What was 'fight'? Movement-pain-positive? I fought these things...”

He takes the tablet from Prowl and draws a crooked blot with a bunch of tentacles on it. Then thinks for a bit and adds big teeth and a lot of eyes. He's not really sure how to draw those eyes properly, so he just scatters them randomly around the monster area.

Prowl doesn't seem to be that amused by Jazz's drawings anymore, in fact, he suddenly becomes very somber.

“Quintessons.”

He pokes at the monster

“Name-Quintessons. Number-question.”

How many?

Jazz scratches the back of his head

“So uh...a lot?....number-positive-positive-positive-positive-positi...you get the idea.”

To be convincing, he dramatically spreads his arms out to the sides depicting something very large.

Prowl looks alarmed.

And unconvinced.

“How did you survive?”

Jazz laughs pretentiously

“Ask them how they survived.”

Prowl makes the “you can't be serious” face. Jazz isn't quite sure what exactly is confusing him. Mechs are designed to kill Quintessons, aren't they? Judging by his movements, this pilot must be damn good at controlling his mech, and that kind of guys usually fight on the front lines.

He decides to put that thought aside for later. There are more important things right now, like...oh shit, where is he even going??

Jazz leans over the chart again

“Uh. Right. Question-we-move-up-place” Man, how to specify... “Knowledge-negative?”

Prowl, linguistic gods bless him, understands him and starts gesturing over the chart in response

Okay. Ah. I-move-up. Planet-creation-positive.

'I'm heading home' or 'my home planet'.”

Jazz instantly perks up.

“Oh that's great, I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to go there too.”

Prowl is speaking in a language he's unfamiliar with, so he's definitely from another country, but hey, who cares as long as it's on Earth, right? He just needs to get there and he'll find his own way from there.

He watches the space debris flicker by outside the window. Even the stars are unfamiliar, Jazz can't find any constellations he knows.

One of the little purple creatures says something and Prowl steps aside to chat with them. Jazz leans back and settles into a more or less stable position. Then does the same thing, but with his real, human body. Hell, his head still feels really fucking weird after that teleportation.

He opens the comm channel and just listens to the static for a couple minutes in the faint hope that the engineering department will find a way to contact him.

Nothing.

He sighs.

“1061 on the com. In case there's any way you can hear me...ah shit. You guys won't believe what happened...”

___________

[Next]

[unknownplane]

The Court Jester Part 2

Yandere Batfam x GN Reader

Pt. 1, Pt. 3, Pt. 4

As Batman questioned his life choices, his other children listened in on the conversation.

"So that's what happened to (Y/N). I thought they had just moved out." Tim stated.

"How did that weak-" Damian started but was cut off by Tim. "You didn't even know them! They were nice and understood how important our work was, so they tried to stay out of the way!"

Dick and Jason just blocked out the arguing as they started to remember all the things (Y/N) did for them. How they tried to help even in the smallest ways. Like how they would always make sure there was a fresh pot of coffee or how they would rotate the types of cookies in the manor so everyone got one they liked.

When (Y/N) first moved out, the first thing the family realized was how much they did. It felt weird the first couple of weeks, but they eventually got used to it. Seeing (Y/N) like this made them worry, even if some of them wouldn't admit it (Damian). This awoken something in each of them.

Dick saw someone who was with him since the beginning. Someone he could always trust to be there for him when he needed it, and now he could see it was gone. The twisted smile on their face showed all the pressure he and his family put on them, and he felt nothing but guilt.

Jason saw someone who went through something similar to him. He saw the torture in their eyes. He heard the manipulation in the words that came out their mouth. He knew that if he could just get to them and talk like they used to, it would all be fine. He was determined to get them back, and this time, they weren't leaving his sight.

Tim saw the calculation that went into this trap. He saw the brain of (Y/N), who even in this state was brilliant. He saw the planning, the research, the trail and error of each detail in this plan, all to catch Batman and have a conversation with him before your "Dad" got there. He wanted to bounce ideas off you. He wanted to talk about plans with you. He even wanted to just hang out and chill with you, but in order to do that, he would need to get you back. And when you came back, he would do all those things with you.

Stephanie saw the abandoned side of you. She realized that she didn't know anything about you. Your age, your favorite color, your birthday, she didn't even know your last name. She knows what it's like to have a distant relationship with a parent figure, and she wants to help. She wants to know all of those things. She wants to know you. And if you let her (you will), she wants to be the closest person to you.

Damian saw a weak follower who needed not only to learn but also needed to be protected. Even though you are older than him, he can see a flame in you that with the right training and teacher could become a full-on blaze. He would be that teacher. He would be the one you look up to. Nobody else. He just needed to get you back to start training.

They all looked at each other as if thinking the same thing,"Let's go get (Y/N)."

Back with (Y/N)...

"Dads gonna be so proud when he sees this! I mean, look at you! You look totally defeated!" (Y/N) said between giggles. They were giddy. They had talked to dad about if they could try something with the Bat, and surprisingly, he agreed. After the Bat was caught, they sent the signal to their father so they could show off their work.

Batman was tied to a chair. His utility belt on the floor as they made him make a choice. Drop your utility belt, or I will kill these two parents and make a boy and a girl orphans. They knew what they were doing. They knew it was wrong. But God did it feel good. To have his eyes looking at them and having him see what they truly are. Not their mother but (Y/N). Even if they look a little different now.

As the Bat was beginning to start a sentence the door busted open.

"Hello Peanut!" The Joker exclaimed as he came in. "Look at all the fine work you've done. My little Jester".

-------------------------------------------------------

Thank you so much for all the support on the first part of this! Everytime I see your guys support I am baffled at how wonderful you all are. Quick question do you want this to be completely platonic or do you want some people from the family to be romantic? Also should I add more people from the DC Universe? Thank you so much for reading!

@asillysimp

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

How can I answer my child's (probably soon) question of "what is sex?"? The standard answer I've been taught (If a man and a woman love eachother very much) is so off base. Like sure, that can be the case, but sex can be casual, doesn't need a commitment or romantic feelings, can involve multiple partners, obviously identities and sexualities can be whatever two consenting adults/informed adolecents want it to be... but it also kinda feels weird to answer that with just a full on lecture when for them it's a question like any other

hi anon,

god, this is one of my favorite questions! I love sex ed with kids - it's such a privilege to get to help shape how they'll think about these things as they grow! - and I loooove getting to see parents who don't want to give their kids the same unhelpful bullshit :)

the answer varies a lot depending on age; for the youngest kids, I promise it is okay to leave it at "that's something adults do together with their bodies, because it can be fun and feel nice" - we can add the nuance that sometimes teenagers have sex to the conversation later, because really little kids are unlikely to care. if they're curious about WHY adults do this mysterious activity together, or what's nice about it, it's okay to give your precocious squirt a little more insight! many kids discover masturbation at a young age, and it's alright to acknowledge that touching genitals can feel good and be fun to do as long as it's happening at appropriate times and places. (I've always been fond of this article on the topic.) it's a great way to practice naming body parts, normalize sexual pleasure and bodily exploration, and emphasize that while touching your own body alone in privacy can be fun, it's not okay to touch others or for others to touch you without your consent and that safe adults should always be informed if someone is touching the child in unwanted ways. you're right that it doesn't need to be a lecture; if they don't have any further curiosity after the initial answer, drop it!

if the kids are a little older, they may want to really get into it - I find my 4th-6th kids usually have some vague ideas about how sex works and will have questions accordingly. I've had to field questions about why someone would want to put a penis in their mouth (and how to avoid pee while doing so), explain what a harem is (thanks, Hamilton), and keep from cringing when the kids joked about someone ejaculating on someone else's face (jesus christ). they know things, and the best approach is to just meet them where they're at to answer their questions and gently challenge and correct misconceptions that they may have. here, the answer to "what is sex?" can expand tremendously, complete with conversations about how and when someone might be able to decide that they're ready to be sexually intimate with other people (and how to do so safely). kids at this age are opinionated, curious, and getting really good at rotating complex concepts around in their brains, so if they want to chat about it, encourage it!

[moonstruckme]

I’ve been binge reading your emt polymarauders. And I gotta tell you ! It’s like sipping a nice lemonade on a summer day. Oh my…

I’m a medical student so I loooooove this prompt so much. I couldn’t sleep tonight because biochemistry has been rotting my brain. Ugh

Anyways,

I had an idea, could you maybe make a reader who’s in her first year of med school and she’s so stressed. The boys try to ease her a little but she doesn’t listen and itch closer to burnout. Until she starts to feel unwell and comes out of her study to drink water. But before she can react she passes out and the boys rush to help.

(Totally not happened to me once in front of almost 30 3rd years. Nooooo.)

Hope you like the idea ❤️

Thanks babe, I'm glad you enjoy them! And thank you for requesting <3

cw: academic stress, fainting

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

“What nerve supplies the posterior arm and forearm?” Remus asks you. 

The words are beginning to sound like gibberish. “The, um…the radial nerve.” 

“Well done.” Remus sets your flash card atop a stack. There are three of them, ones you know well, ones you’re still shaky on, and ones you’ve not got a clue about. This card goes in the first stack. It’s small enough that every addition feels like a victory. 

Your boyfriends have been kind enough to bring you lunch at the library. It was quickly revealed as a plot to try and coax you into taking a break, but when that clearly wasn’t working they decided to stay awhile and keep you company. You have a reading room all to yourself today, so James has made himself comfortable on the couch and Sirius has laid his head down in his lap, content to have his hair played with while James watches you and Remus study.

“And which carpals communicate with the radius?” Remus asks. 

“Um…”

“Think carefully,” Sirius says in his TV host voice. “This one’s for full points.” 

You blink. You feel suddenly odd. Off-kilter. “There’s two,” you say slowly. “Lunate and…um…” 

“Can we do hints?” James asks. 

You’d rather not, but you feel like you need it. “Sure.” 

“Alright.” Remus glances down at your card. “It starts with an s.” 

“I know it.” You squeeze your eyes shut. “I had this one yesterday. It’s like sca…sca something. Sorry, I feel like I can’t concentrate.” 

“Do you want me to tell you?” Remus asks gently. 

You sigh. “Yeah, okay.” 

“It’s lunate and scaphoid.” 

You groan, pushing your fingers into your forehead. “I knew that.” 

“It’s alright.” Remus sets the card in the middle stack. He’s watching you carefully. “Do you think it’s time for a break?” 

“Yeah.” You take a deep breath. “I feel weird, I think…” You pick up your water bottle, but it’s light, empty. “I’m going to go get some water.” 

Remus’ eyes are sympathetic. “Good idea, dove.” 

The feeling worsens when you stand, like the change in altitude is making you light-headed. You take two steps. The first wobbles, the second sinks. 

You don’t remember passing out. There’s no darkening of your vision or panicky realization, just one second your knee is bending unbidden and the next the trampled fibers of the library carpet are smushed against your face. 

“Fuck, sweetheart.” It takes you a second to recognize the feel of hands under your head and ribcage, but that’s James’ voice. The knees of Remus’ trousers are in front of your face. “What’d you do that for?” 

“I didn’t mean to,” you mumble. 

“Let’s get you on your back,” says Remus. 

He and James work together to rotate you gently, and then you have a better view of the room. Remus and James kneeling above you, Sirius standing behind them with a look of wide-eyed horror. It appears each of your boyfriends has jumped up in a fright. 

“Do you feel warm?” Remus brushes some hair away from your face while James picks up your wrist to get your pulse and Sirius launches into action, kneeling by your feet. 

“Not really…” You startle as your legs pick up off the floor. “Sirius, my skirt!”

“It’s just us here, doll,” Sirius reminds you. “I promise to protect your modesty if anyone comes in, whatever the cost.” 

You frown at what he could mean by that, but Remus thumbs over your cheek placatingly. “Is there anywhere around here that might have sports drinks?” 

“Um, there’s a vending machine downstairs.” 

“Perfect. I’ll be back shortly.” He gives your cheek a quick hold before leaving. 

James kisses your palm once he’s done with your pulse, and then his fingers find the collar of your shirt, popping open the first two buttons with practiced ease. 

Your hand flies up to prevent him going further. “Why does everyone keep trying to undress me?” 

James laughs, and Sirius replies smoothly, “Why, is this not a good time for you?” 

“Take it easy, lovie.” James takes your hand, holding it in his own. “We’re just making sure all the blood that wants to go to your brain can get there.” 

“Oh.” You knew that. Or you should’ve, if your brain was working properly.

“If it’s somewhat risque in practice, I certainly don’t mind as much with you as I do with the old blokes we sometimes get.” Sirius winks at you. 

You offer up a weak smile in return, and he pouts. 

“How’re you feeling, sweetness?” 

“I’m alright.” You take a breath. “Can I sit up now?”

“Let’s give it a bit.” James rubs your shoulder. “How do you really feel?” 

“Just…weird. Shaky. But not too bad.” 

“That’s good,” he says, though he looks like he doesn’t quite believe you. 

“I think I’ll be fine once I get something to drink.” 

“Mm, I think there’s probably a bit more to it than that,” Remus says as he comes back in. He crouches beside you, twisting the top off a bottle of orange juice. “That is a very well-stocked vending machine. Do you feel ready to sit up, dove?” 

“I have been,” you say. “They won’t let me.” 

“Such ingratitude,” Sirius teases as he sets your feet back down. “We were only waiting for your juice.” 

James helps you up with a hand on your back, and it takes a second of wordless wrestling with Remus to get him to let you bring the bottle to your own lips. 

“You could be dehydrated,” he says as you drink, “or you could just be exhausted, or both. And you can faint from too much stress too, you know.” 

“I know,” you grumble, wiping your mouth. 

Remus takes your face in his hand, forcing you to look at him. You find your indignance shrinking under his steady gaze. “You hurt yourself when you push yourself this hard, sweet girl.” 

“I know,” you say, softer now. “I thought I could handle it.” 

“You need to take more breaks.” 

You nod slightly. 

“And work on putting less pressure on yourself.” 

“Alright, Rem, lay off her.” Sirius rubs your knee. It breaks you from Remus’ trance, and your dark-haired boyfriend flashes you a smile when you look his way. “She’s got enough going through her head without having to remember all you want her to do. Let’s go home, yeah?” 

James insists on supporting you while you walk out of the library. Sirius and Remus debate what film you should put on once you get back to your flat. 

“Shouldn’t I get to choose?” you ask. 

“Well, look who’s feeling up to asking questions.” Sirius gives your cheek a condescending little pat. “Unfortunately, I don’t think you’re really ready to be picking out films, my love. Your decision making is probably still impacted from that fainting spell.” 

“Really.” You narrow your eyes at him. “I’ve never heard of that side effect.” 

“Well, you’re only a first year, doll. There’s lots you don’t know.”

[anakinstwinklebunny]

PAIRING: hayden christensen x f!reader

FLUFF ❦

“Wait—hold on. That ain’t right.”

You glanced up from your half-finished LEGO speeder, eyebrows raising as your older boyfriend frowned down at the tiny brick in his big-ass fingers, rotating it like that’ll somehow make it fit. His lips were pursed, and there was a little crease between his eyes—the same one he gets when he’s fixing something around the farm.

Which would be adorable if he wasn’t currently about to ruin your entire Millennium Falcon build.

“Hayden.” You tried to keep your voice calm, despite the fact that you were watching him struggle to attach an engine to the cockpit. “That’s the wrong piece.”

He barely glanced up. “Nah, it fits.”

“It does not fit.”

Hayden squinted, holds the tiny piece up to the instructions, and then started pressing it in anyway. A gasp twisted from your throat, curling over your tongue. You lunged forward, practically tackling his hands. “Hayden!”

“What?” He blinked, all innocent bluish-grayish eyes, as if he didnt see his mistake. Even with the manual laying before his eyes . “I’m just—”

“You’re ruining it!” You couldn't help it, you grabbed the piece from his fingers, shoving the instructions towards him. “Look! That’s not even close to the same shape!”

He squinted again, bringing the manual closer to his eyes. After a long, painfully slow pause—he had the audacity to shrug.

“Well, looks the same to me.”

“Oh my God.” You dropped your head into your hands, a groan leaving your mouth. “You’re worse than a little kid.”

Hayden lets out a deep, raspy chuckle; his adam apple moving up and down. Setting the instructions down, he leaned back in the leather chair with that smug little smirk. “C’mon now, sweetheart,” he drawled, voice warm with amusement. “Ain’t my fault these damn things are tiny.”

“They’re LEGO, babe. That’s the point.”

He huffed at that, clearly an unimpressed look switching across his face. “They didn’t used to be this complicated.”

You stared at him, deadpan. “Didn’t you build LEGO Star Wars with Ewan back in the day?”

At that, he grinned; a big, bright, boyish smile that didnt age at all “Hell yeah, we did.” Then he sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “Simpler times.”

You rolled your eyes lovingly, exasperated but so in love with this ridiculous, ridiculous man. “Okay, old man, just—please—stop touching things before I supervise.”

He made a little tsk sound, shaking his head "I'm not so old now, sweetheart. Don't wound me so much.. and supervise?” His grin came back, all teasing with his eyes glinting. “That means you’re the boss, sweetheart?”

“Obviously.”

Hayden hummed simply, tapping his fingers against his chin, pretending to think. Then, without warning, he leaned in close, voice dropping to a rough, lazy murmur.

“Well,” he rasped, “I do like it when you boss me around.” he smirked

Your brain short-circuited. Mouth opened—closed—opened again. “I—you—stop that.” you shook your arms as if something was holding onto you

He just grinned, pressing a quick, teasing kiss to your nose. “Alright, alright,” he chuckled, leaning back, hands up in surrender. “I’ll behave.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Promise?”

Hayden’s grin softened, all warm affection, all loving side showing off to you, before he reached out, letting his thumb brush over your cheek. “Promise, darlin’.”

You sighed, melting just a little. “Okay. Good.”

A little pause. A little silence.

“So if I put this here—”

“HAYDEN!”

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @babybell-cheese @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca @rubiesarepretty @luluartpop @cloverina @nikiloveshayden @cherriies-snake @skywalkerssgirl

[wooziorgans]

hey s2 soooo i was thinking about something and i know that you are the one to do this

woozi hasn't had the opportunity to eat you out yet, you've already done a lot but as you never mentioned it he thought you didn't want to or weren't comfortable yet, so one day when you're making out and he's starting to get horny he whispers "sit on my face" and now its up to you

k byeeee

— face sitting

good god. why do you always,,,,, do this. i love ur brain but also why god why me. also sorry this took me so long,,,, we r not gonna talk abt it.

you’ve been with jihoon for a few months, and in those few months, you’ve learned more about him than you did in the years of friendship. you know that he likes to eat, and he eats well, given the pure amount of muscle on him. you know that, while he says he’s not big on skin-ship, it’s a lie. one look from you, and he’s opening his arms to cuddle.

you know he loves his friends with his entire heart, and is willing to give them as much as he can in terms of support. you know he likes to go for walks late at night when he can’t sleep, or when he wants to simply enjoy some time outside with his thoughts.

what you’ve learned has been on the complete opposite of the spectrum. you know that jihoon likes to give, but this also extends to the bedroom. he’ll spend hours working you up, teasing you and then fucking you with his fingers before finally sinking his cock into you. he has this super human ability to make you cum, and he uses it to his advantage.

you’ve learned he likes getting head, but he’d much rather fuck you. you’ve learned that he’s a sensual kisser; he lets it linger before giving you anything solid to build off of. he makes you chase his lips, teasing you endlessly when you have the time.

you’ve also learned that his frustration with his job manifests itself sexually. he’ll perfectly service dom you through multiple orgasms as a way to relieve his stress. sometimes he’ll just pull you onto his lap and kiss you stupid until you’re grinding against his thigh, desperate for something more.

you love giving him head though, but he seems to be completely indifferent towards doing the same to you. it’s a little confusing, considering how much he seems to use his tongue in other ways with you. you know he’s skilled with his mouth, that much is evident from the way he kisses and sings.

today is just one of those days where jihoon wasn’t able to burn off enough steam at the gym. he’s frustrated over a moved deadline the company gave him, now having to work twice as hard to get things done. you finished work early, and jihoon invited you over to hang out.

you can tell from the lines on his face that you’ll be doing more than just ‘hanging out’, but it’s not like you mind. jihoon pulls you into his bed, the television in his room on. you’re cushioned in between his thick thighs, wrapped safely in his arms when he starts peppering soft kisses to your neck.

it makes you shiver, hands grabbing at his arms before you decide to rotate to straddle his thighs. jihoon rests his hands on your hips, pulling you close and in for a kiss. you return it eagerly, hands finding the sides of his face.

jihoon’s hands start wandering, pushing their way under your hoodie to graze the skin of your back. his tongue slips its way into your mouth, and you moan softly. this seems to do something to jihoon, and his hand slips down to grope your ass.

you make out for god knows how long, hips moving against each others as you kiss. jihoon seems to just drink in all of the small sounds you make, hands moving around to grab and squeeze whatever he can reach.

it all comes to fruition when you stop being able to kiss him, whining into his mouth as you grind on his thigh. “fuck, sit on my face.” jihoon whispers, pulling away for a second to just watch you take what you need from him. you stop immediately, pulling back further to look at him.

“sorry, what did you say?” you blink a few times at him, unsure if you heard him correctly.

“if you don’t want to, that’s okay. you’ve never really given me anything that suggested you’d be into that.” he back tracks immediately, face reddening as he realizes he said that out loud.

“no, repeat yourself. what did you say?” your hand brushes the side of his neck and he shivers, knowing he can’t get out of this.

“um, sit on my face?” it’s a question this time. his hesitancy makes you laugh softly as you brush his hair out of his face.

“god, jihoon,” you sigh softly, already dripping at the idea of him being tongue deep inside of you. “you’re sure?” you ask, fingers threading in his hair. he hums softly.

“yeah, fuck. wanna eat you out so bad, baby.” he coos, almost condescending as his hands grab at your sweatpants. you let him pull them down, underwear going with them. you shift off his lap to kick them off and jihoon takes the opportunity to slide down the bed so he’s lying down.

with your bottom half now exposed, you straddle his lap again, arousal seeping into his own sweats. he’s painfully hard in his sweats, cock straining against the fabric. he hisses when you sink down before his hands find you ass again.

he pulls you up, and you wiggle your way up the bed until you’re over his chest. “how do you want me?” you ask, unsure of if he wants you to face him or turn the other way.

“just like this is fine.” jihoon hums, pulling you closer to his face. he starts to tease your folds with two fingers, gathering your arousal with his fingers before he pushes them inside. you’re already wet enough for them to just slide in.

you moan at the intrusion, his other hand firm on your hips to keep you from moving. jihoon fucks them in and out of you slowly, watching the way you suck his digits in. he pulls them out after a few seconds, using both hands to pull you down onto his face.

jihoon sticks his tongue out, licking a long stripe over your folds. you react immediately at the warmth and wetness of his tongue, shivering as you let out a low moan. jihoon does it again, tongue gathering your arousal to pull it into his mouth. he moans softly, already completely in love with the way you taste.

jihoon’s nose brushes against your clit, and you jerk harshly, hands finding their spot in his hair. you smooth it out, moving it out of the way. he licks another stripe up your fold, this time stiffening his tongue to go deeper. his lips latch around your clit, suctioning to it and flicking his tongue against the sensitive bundle of nerves.

jihoon focuses his attention on your clit, alternating different kinds of suction and patterns with his tongue to figure out what works. he brings his hand back up to your ass, kneading the skin softly before he pushes two fingers back inside of you.

it’s too much, all at once. the small noises he makes as he eats you out, the lewd, wet noises coming from his mouth, and his fingers pressing into your spot send you over the edge. you tighten your grip in his hair, head leaning against the headboard as you gasp out a warning.

jihoon keeps his pace steady on your clit as you cum, before he pulls his fingers out and laps at your release. it drips down his chin, but he can’t stop, even after you start to squirm in overstimulation.

you lift your hips up off his face before shifting to lay down beside him. jihoon pulls you into a kiss, and you can taste yourself on his tongue. you whine into his mouth, hands grabbing at his cock through the fabric of his sweats.

jihoon pulls away, “give yourself a minute to breathe, love.” he coos. you nod, pushing your head against his chest. he strokes your hair softly, massaging your scalp. your hands still push their way under his sweats and into his boxers.

jihoon hisses softly. “you’re insatiable.” he moans, a breathy laugh falling from his lips.

“you started it.” you murmur, craning your head up to kiss his neck. maybe he did. either way, it’s gonna be a long night. especially with what you’ve just learned about your boyfriend.

[ancientnapdragon]

hello scum villain fandom. i finished these silly books like two months ago and have been rotating them in my mind since then.

ANYWAY, i've come to propose a fun AU from my brain: Shen Yaun 'Food Peak' Lord. >:) (please excuse any typos i'm on my phone)

This is a Scumcum AU cause I decided that SJ is like my fave and I wanna see him get wifed up. Does he deserve it? No. Will this stop me? Also no.

So, slap cut to SY and he's suddenly like waking up the day after being chosen as a Sect disciple. He's like 13 and really confused and something feels... kinda wrong! It's like he has all these swiss cheese spots in his memory and he feels like he should be alarmed he's not in his own bed! But, he also IS in his own bed? What's his problem? SY is still 100% a transmigrator but since he's in a kid's body his memories are like half on lockdown. He remembers a few things but not much. The System shows up and seems just as surprised as this turn of events as he is, sort of analyzes a while, then ends up making him think (by accident) it's some like Guardian Family Spirit who is there to guide him.

In truth, the System is trying to find the best route to get the story on track within it's programming. This is NOT what it's assignment was supposed to be! Ugh!

SY has now been shuffled into what is basically an OC so it more or less just looks like him from his old life, not that he is aware, except as a kid. Everyone calls him Kong Yuan (name pending) (also I'll keep calling him SY for this to make it easier) and he was just taken into the lower Peak in charge of Food, Wine, and Elixirs. Of course this is like, with it's own special PIDW twist so everything is cool and magic. Without any real ideas on what to do otherwise, and feeling like this is Right, he throws himself into learning stuff about the Peak. He was a lazy Millennial rich boy in his last life so he's, like, kind of a SHIT COOK. That's on top of being kind of just bad at the type of physical cultivation needed for this Peak!

While highly specialized, the people on (Food) Peak are certified badasses in their own right, even if it's not in like a proper fight. You got people dipping arms and torsos in boiling oil, doing all sorts of fancy knife tricks with qi, tearing whole large beasts apart for processing; the Peak Lord and SY's new Shizun had some giant metal ladle that's twice as long as herself and looks like it weights more than a building. She's built and buff and uses this thing effortlessly to stir this giant cauldron in the center of the Peak that is as big as a house. It's a smaller Peak but always a flurry of activity! The System, deciding it will at least try and work with this, starts giving SY Taste Points as he improves. Occasionally, it will even give him little quests for bonus points! Usually it's for meeting new people, at the start, or learning certain techniques on his Peak. He notices that he usually get these 'Meet x Person' quests when on other Peaks, though... like that really sad looking but polite boy on Qiong Ding, the sort of nervous and mousy kid from An Ding, the sharp tongued girl from Xian Shu- even the real scary guy from Bai Zhan! Then after he gets those quests done, they always turn into a 'Befriend X Person' quest after... which is way harder but rewards more T Points!

(DID YOU THINK THIS WAS JUST A PEAK LORD AU BTW? NO NO NO! IT'S ALSO A QING DISCIPLE AU! HA! >:D) But why does he even WANT the T Points? Well, Guardian Spirit/System says it will provide him special memory rewards! SY rationalizes this as thinking he's receiving visions from a past? future? reincarnation of himself, which the System does not correct. It's usually smaller things about his old life, with the real important stuff all locked away behind higher and higher Points. The System will also provide him with small boosts to his palate (his was quite shit) and sometimes even... cookbooks! Part of being a Food Cultivator is enhancing your QI and Spiritual Veins by eating food that is both delicious as well as Spiritually Enhanced. This isn't just cooking in the kitchen with mama time, this is an ART. Only the best of the best have the refined palate, knowledge base, and skills to make their own recipes. It's fairly common on the Peak for the Masters to work for YEARS to try and make SOMETHING of their own they can be proud of! When SY is like 15, enough time to get to know his fellow (future) Peak Lords, he gets a special quest: [ BECOME HEAD DISCIPE ]. For the first time, THIS quest has a time limit (two years!), and the System warns him of graaaaaave consequences if he is not able to do so....

This lights a fire under his ass a bit and makes him panic! See, SY has all these cookbooks from the System, and he can even make some of the recipes! But most of them ask for all these ingredients he FEELS like he should know but he's never really heard of.... And some of the techniques are so strange, too! The System offers him a special upgrade (for what is, at the time, probably almost all this T-Points): A taste-alike Beastiary!

So, Ancient China did not have a lot of modern fruits and veggies from around the world. PIDW? Aside from a few things ones cause Airplane was a hack writer, mostly the same! But you know what PIDW does have? Lots of weird demons and animals and spirit beasts and flowers. The next time SY looks at a cookbook he will see little (???) next to the stuff he doesn't recognize. But also! There was this one recipes he wanted to make, and he had everything except for ONE thing to make it, and it has a (Inferno-Harpy-Vulture Egg) next to it. So! It shows him stuff he can SUBSTITUTE! Provided... he knows the name of the plant or animal already....

SY had always had a passion for the weird beasts and creatures he sometimes saw, but no reason to act on learning more since he was so busy.... but with this he can totally indulge! AND it will help him with his goal! Double win!

At some point in all his fumbling, he makes better connections with the Future Peak Lords, gets a reputation as being very reliable and kind (if a bit danger prone and sharp tongued at times), and is earning the attention of his buff Shizen. After getting a lot of T-Points, he manages to uncover some of the more expensive Memories....

Which warn him of a cruel villain named Shen Quinqui. An abusive man who was just the worst! Basically, all the stuff SY thought he knew about him in SV. AND the guy was gunna cause the world to end or something? UGH! Why didn't anyone DO anything about that guy in the future? :( The System says he's not allowed to tell anyone, but if he keeps working, maybe he can change Fate! Now, you're probably like 16 paragraphs into this and like 'okay, this is all super cool and you're really smart. but where is SJ at???' Well, he is HERE!

See, while SY had been to Qing Jing Peak multiple times, he's never actually got a Quest to meet anyone from there which is super weird! But he's called over there to act as a chef for a few weeks because one of the guys who usually does it is on some mission. He decides to scout out the Peak while he's there and see if he can find anyone named 'Shen' who might be the evil guy in the future.... [Mission: Meet Xiao Jiu] suddenly pops up from the System! And SY tries VERY HARD to do so! Every day he goes to work at QJ, he never meets anyone he doesn't already know. Sometimes, he hears rumors about a new kid who the Peak Lord took in and the rumors sound NASTY about him. He's only 15 (just a bit younger than SY by like a season or two!) and the guy is said to have murdered people, slept with prostitutes, perved on the girl's in their dorm there, (probably) was actually a real demon.... and was just a huge asshole. But, eventually, SY does end up meeting this mystery Xiao Jiu! He's done in the kitchen for the night and finished cleaning with the other cooks when he remembers he left something there. Going back, he finds this real skinny and lanky guy in the kitchen picking through whatever was leftover in there (not much). He's real cagey and looks ready to beat the hell out of SY for coming in there; but also like he's been caught doing something he shouldn't do. They sort of stare at each other a bit before SY hesitantly introduces himself and the guy basically runs off through the back. Rude! [Mission Complete: Meet Xiao Jiu] [Mission: Befriend Xiao Jiu]

The guy didn't even SAY anything, though! And he seemed like he wanted to beat him up! System, that doesn't seem FAIR! But... SY really wants those T Points for more future memories to try and stop whatever bad stuff is going to happen in the future, so...

Just trying to find Xiao Jiu ends up being a huge problem in of itself! This is a whole Peak and SY is mostly just here to act as a chef for a few hours in the evening. The guy never comes in and gets food, either! Does he only eat the stuff that's left in the kitchen after? But they always clean up really thoroughly so there isn't much left... and he had looked really skinny....

SY starts staying over past everyone else and leaving some extra buns and stuff he saves from dinner on the counter. Except, he gets in trouble after a day or two because the Morning Chefs had come in to find the food left there all night. Was the guy not taking it?

Eventually, he gets the idea to leave the food but... hide it. For some reason it reminds him of hiding a treat from a cat to make it want the treat more. It... sort of works? Usually only one of the buns is missing instead of the multiple he hides. But! Hey! At least the guy got some food!

Things go on like this for a while, until one night when he's heading back to his Peak, he gets sideline kicked into a dense copse of bamboo along the path. And the guy is standing over him with a sword (not a Spiritual one, but still really sharp!) at his throat. And demanding to know what SY is trying to do by leaving him food.... AAAAND I think this is long enough. For NOW. I'll write more on it when I have some time!!! My big wants is basically Feral Angry Cat SJ being slowly socialized to like the one (1) guy who keeps feeding him. They're gunna be BESTIES! (And SY just TOTALLY doesn't feel weird about thinking his best bro is pretty! That's, like super normal!)

I'm sort of half vomiting all my ideas out of my brain but also half writing a bit of a rough outline for a future fic i want to write. If this inspires you in some way, though, feel free to write stuff! Just tag me! I WANNA SEE!!!! >:)

If you have any questions or anything feel free to reach out! I wanna expand more on the Cookbook and the Food Quest and like, how SY would befriend the other Future Peak Lords. Plus, I have a really evil idea for the System to try and force the plot back on the rails later on hehe.

Ty for reading my rambling ilu <3

[madhattervanessa]

Arctic Fox

(GIF Credit goes to @bastardcompany; original post here)

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Summary: After a successful mission, you make John work for it.

Warnings: Banter, teasing an old man lmao, rough sex, sex in the snow, a little bit of dirty talk?, tiny bit of begging and mocking, a bit of praise, spitting, some other kinky stuff that I probably forgot, idk.

Words: 2096

A/N: Look, I had those gifs in my drafts bc I had an idea and today the brain worms finally spoke to me, aka, I got a minor (read, major) caffeeine high and wrote all of this in about 2 hrs. Don't ask.

Not edited yet

Masterlist - Mobile Masterlist

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It’s cold.

Freezing, actually. His breath billows as he pushes the door open again. He sighs and rolls his head until his neck creaks.

The snow is not falling anymore on his way out of the small cabin. But there is still something frigid in the air and the threat of what looms in the dark forest around him lies heavy in the air.

Nonetheless, Price steps outside of the cabin and makes his way towards the rock wall in the distance. He can already see that you aren’t there.

“Fox, come in, over.”

Silence meets him on the radio. He sighs and keeps trudging forward, until he can turn his back towards the face of the rocks.

As he takes another look around, he spots footprints in the snow. The radio connection crackles back to life in his ear.

“Got you in my sights, Captain.”

He finds comfort in your voice, that deep, almost raspy quality of it, all smoke, but the way you stomp on the radio communication rules as soon as the job is done still irks him.

“Wanna play a game?”

He lets his eyes trail over the tree line, cradling the front of his gun as he lets the words roll through his mind. 

“A game, huh?”

“Extraction is running behind. We have almost an hour until pickup.”

He sighs and squints as he scans the tree line.

“Right, then, hurry up and tell me all about it, darl.”

“So grumpy.”  You let a sigh sound through the radio and he hears the telltale creak of a branch as you keep the channel open for him to hear. “I’m close to the pickup point- Come find me.”

He is already moving, making sure to keep the footprints on the ground close as he carefully scans the treeline. Pickup is a mile away.

He is already calculating in his mind, thinking back to the brief, where you had to be to keep him in sight even now. He turns, adjusting his path to lead him deeper into the underbrush.

“What are you thinking about?”

 He huffs and adjusts his vest as he treks through the snow.

“Might have to drill some better radio etiquette into you, Sergeant.” 

Your laugh is a little breathless. More cracking and rustling sounds follow in the background.

“That a promise, Captain?”

The way you purr his title is making his cock chub up, every time. It’s why you are barely allowed in the pre-mission meetings anymore.

It’s a good thing you are on irregular rotation for the squad, only jumping in when Ghost isn’t available.

“See, I think you like having a reason to order me into your office to drill some discipline into me.”

The comment makes him smile despite himself. 

“Shame such an experienced officer needs it.”

“You know I don’t. I just like you pretending to be all gruff and diligent. Good little soldier that you are.”

“Trying to distract me won’t work, love.”

“I’m not even close to trying to distract you, John.”

This time, he can hear what you are doing outside of the channel.

The telltale sound of feet hitting the ground.

Your equipment is lighter than his by trade. But that doesn’t mean he can’t outpace you.

“Making a run for it, already?”

“Gotta make you work for it.”

He holds his gun closer to his chest and gets ready to quicken his pace, adjusting the angle of his route a little to catch you.

“You’re being cruel to an old man.”

“That’s what you like about me.”

You’re right. It’s that cocksure attitude, backed by all that skill, that had first made him glare at you. The sheer audacity.

“And I’m being nice. Giving up on seeing you climb into a tree is really fucking decent of me.”

“So merciful. Keep running, darl, if you want to give me a challenge.”

He can feel his face heating up as he falls into a pace just shy of a jog.

He can hear you. The shift of the velcro vest, the tight cargo pants you favor that are most definitely not regulation. The crack of a branch gives you away.

When he can finally see you, he puffs out a final breath and breaks into a sprint. He can see the zig-zag coming before you do it. He drops his gun before he charges, tackling you to the ground.

You laugh as you go down in his arms, full of glee, even as your knees take the brunt of your collision. It knocks the wind out of the both of you.

“Fuck, love.”

You keep wriggling underneath him while he grabs one of your wrists to pin it to the ground. He groans when you push your ass back against him, rubbing up against his hard cock, straining against his pants.

“Get your pants off. We don’t have time for this.”

“Not my fault-,” you gasp, turning to press your cheek into the snow. You push your arm underneath yourself to fiddle with your pants. He opens his in a quick, practiced motion and spits into his hand to stroke himself as you struggle to tug your pants down.

“John-”, you whine, wriggling against him.

He just tuts at you. The slick sounds behind you are driving you crazy, the knowledge that he could be inside of you already.

“Gotta earn it. Come on. Can’t even undress, love?”

You make a ragged sound and rut up against him, using him to tug your pants over the tantalizing curve of your ass.

He’s already panting. The moment you drag your underwear down enough for your pussy to glint at him, he groans. He presses a hand to your neck, pinning you down as he moves in closer. He cages your legs between his until your knees knock together. When he drags his hand back down to your ass, he crudely gropes at it until your pussy parts a little with it, too.

He uses his thumb to trace over your pussy, dipping it inside until he is knuckle deep.

You hiss in response. The cold snow your cheek is pressed into is forgotten as he plays with you. Then, a hot glob of spit splashes against your pussy.

“Say it,” he groans, before spreading his spit against the lips of your pussy. He pushes his thumb inside this time, shallowly fucking it into you.

“Need you to fuck me.” You gasp as he slaps the tip of his cock against your pussy. The wet sound seems to echo through the forest. “Please, John, please-” your words are yet again cut off by the squelching sound of the tip of his cock pushing in between your pussy lips, the fat head of his cock splitting them apart.

You gasp into the snow and furrow your brows as he shallowly rocks it back and forth, letting you feel every detail of it: The ridge of it catches against your hole as he rocks back, the way it glides in smoothly, without the slightest hint of resistance, when he rocks forward. You keep perfectly still, all of your senses focused on the feeling of him. When he lets go of your wrist, you keep it right where he had put it. He spreads your ass cheeks open and it’s like you can feel his eyes on you, staring at your pussy with that look that makes you want to bite him.

“Good girl.”

As soon as he pushes balls deep inside of you, you melt. He curls over you, crushing the magazines stuck into his vest against your back in favor of grinding his cock as deep as he can.

Without the adrenaline, it would have hurt, and you were guaranteed to be sore after, but in the moment there was nothing better than feeling him battering into your cunt like you had personally offended him.

You reach back to grab his neck. As your fingertips reach to grasp his hair, his hat falls to the ground next to you. You push yourself up on one arm, your other hand tightly gripping his hair as you moan, your breath coming out in little clouds of warmth into the cold air.

He wraps an arm around your waist and buries his nose in the skin underneath your ear.

“Feel so fucking good, love,” he growls. The only answer you manage is a breathless gasp. “Can feel you creaming on me, already.” He is panting now, too, keeping his thrusts deep and hard in a way that would make your headboard slam against the wall back home. But now there’s nothing but you taking all of the brute force he uses to fuck you. He is just about to praise you again, when his comm crackles to life on another channel.

“Extraction in 10, over. Do you copy?”

You bite down hard on your lip when he reaches up to answer.

“Copy”, he grumbles back. He makes sure you hear him click off again. When he leans back down over you, he bites at the shell of your ear, tasting metal as he sucks on your lobe. “Need you to touch yourself, love.”

You gasp, trying to process his words as he keeps pounding into you. He grabs your hand for you, pushing your fingertips into his mouth. He crudely coats them in his spit, pressing a little kiss to your fingertips before pushing them to press against your clit.

“'m not leaving until I feel you come on my cock. Don’t care if the whole squad comes to watch.”

The low growl crawls over your spine with a delicious spike of heat. You quickly start to rub firm circles into your clit. His breath is hot against your ear, rutting into you with a precision that keeps you on the verge of tears.

It takes barely any time at all for you to cum.

Price curses into your ear and presses his hand over yours on your clit, dragging your orgasm out forcefully as he keeps fucking into you.

You yelp when he presses you back down, flattening you against the ground as he grunts. Your ass audibly slaps against his stomach and he praises your perfect fucking cunt under his breath, before he cums.

You can feel him twitching inside of you as he fills you, slamming into you those last few times, before he collapses on top of you.

You’re both panting- your nipples feel sore from rubbing against your shirt and your legs are shaking as your pussy finally gets a break from the overstimulation. Sweat is making the back of your shirt cling to your back.

“Fuck,” you sigh, a smile already widening your cheeks. He grunts in agreement and presses a lingering kiss to the nape of your neck. “Gotta get off of me John, or we’ll be late.”

He groans but gets moving nonetheless. As soon as he has sat back on his haunches, you move to do the same. You’re still shaking but manage to pull your underwear back up. John rucks up your cargo pants over your thighs for you. You start fixing your hair and rubbing snow from your face as he buttons your pants. He presses another kiss to your temple before tightening your belt for you.

As you start to get up, he takes a quick glance at his watch.

“Fuck, gotta hurry,” he grunts. You faintly hear the clink of his belt before he gets up to his feet.

He quickly traces his last few steps to find his gun and strap it back to his chest. He can hear you fumbling with your own pack behind himself.

When he turns, he manages to catch you still trying to get yourself back together, rubbing at your rosy cheeks before you give up and instead just tug your scarf over your mouth and nose.

When you catch him looking, the corners of your eyes crinkle a little.

“What?”

“Come on, let’s go.”

He tugs you closer by your elbow and leans down to press his mouth close to your ear as soon as you bump against his chest. “You’re getting it soft as soon as we’re home.”

“Mh, understood, Captain,” you quip back before starting to walk off towards the pick up location. He sighs and shakes his head as he watches you take off. He picks up his boonie hat from the ground with a grunt and pushes it back on top of his head before rushing to catch up with you again.

-

Thanks for reading!

Requests are open and always appreciated

[signanothername]

Could we have some soft/comfort headcannons about anyone of your choosing? It's election night and I really would like something soft for my brain to chew on instead of worry all night

Absolutely!

Imma give you a bunch of different little guys <333

———

Killer:

-his cats help him a lot with sleep problems, they make him calm enough to the point of actually closing his eyes whenever he’s with them (reminder that he usually sleeps with one eye open xhxbbx)

-after he’s saved, he gradually becomes better at eating, he still avoids food that reminds him of the past but becomes more accepting of other types of food, eventually getting his bone mass and weight back, going from lanky to chubby <3333

-he eventually accepts the state of his soul and instead of trying to fix it, he tries to understand it, understand himself, he becomes a lot more gentle with his own self

———

Color:

-he has albums upon albums full of pictures he took over the years, filled with places he visited, pictures of people he loves and moments he cherishes

-he’s very connected with so many people, and a lot of people find him to be a great confidant, he does a lot to help people where he can, he eventually gets the good he gave back with people taking care of him

-he’s in a queer platonic relationship with Delta and Epic

———

Nightmare:

-he has piles upon piles of gifts Dream gave him for their birthday over the years, he never got rid of any of them, these gifts are something he cherishes dearly

-he’s the one to introduce Killer to Ccino’s cafe, he actually did that with no ill intentions, and Nightmare himself is not really sure why he went out of his way to introduce Killer to the cafe

-he and Dream sometimes sit beside their mother in silence, just taking everything in, taking each other presence in, not talking or interacting, Nightmare feels peaceful during these moments, it’s the closest thing to the same feelings he had as a happy child

———

Dream:

-even though he has a fallout with Ink, he eventually remedies his relationship with them, they become best friends again

-whenever life gets too much, he goes to Swap’s house and stays with the swap bros, it helps immensely

-Dream never expects to receive anything on his birthday, that expectation is broken when he receives a gift from Nightmare, he never got another gift afterwards, it’s only that one gift, but it’s the entire world to him

———

Error:

-he thinks of Ink as his bestest friend in the world, he’d never admit that out loud tho dhdhhdhdh (they’re frenemies)

-he loves geno and Fresh dearly, they’re his proclaimed siblings, he’s more open about his love with them

-he actually takes commissions by making dolls for people who want them in exchange for chocolate as payment (his chocolate stock never runs out zgxggx)

———

Horror:

-He eventually finds a better relationship with food

-he succeeds at escaping from Nightmare and managing to keep his AU (and most importantly his brother) safe in the process

-he finds himself becoming best friends with Farm

———

Ink:

-his art is something others never see, but surprisingly, if you had the chance to see it, then you’d find it’s art the people they love most

-their fallout with Dream actually hurt him, so when he and Dream got back to being besties, they felt very happy about it

-he loves spending time with Color, Epic and Delta cause of their constant traveling habits, they’re very entertaining to be around

-while they spend most his time in the doodlesphere, the second place you’ll most likely see them in is with their parents in the omega timeline, he loves them with all his heart

———

These are the ones I can think of off the top of my head hdhdhdhdh hope they’re enough to rotate in your brain all day <333333

[yuri-is-online]

Hey, Yuri, do you think Yuu would ever run the risk of being put in danger by having a romantic relationship with any of the more high-profile members of the cast? I mean, we’ve got royalty, nobility, celebrities, and the very wealthy attending this school. I’ve just been rotating my brain about how these relationships would work out and Yuu is a pretty vulnerable target without NRC’s security. - 🦐

Hmmmmmm. I have a bunch of thoughts about this actually... I tried ranking them from least to most dangerous if that makes sense? But don't read too deeply into the bullet point placements they were mostly just a stream of consciousness thing.

Not that Risky (surprisingly)

Leona- we don't really have details about his brother's marriage, but I don't think his family has been shown to be overly keen on forming alliances with outside countries, the Savannah seems more concerned with itself. I don't think his family would be too fussed with his partner being a magicless person from outerspace, if anything this might be seen as a plus to the councilors that are always mocking Leona behind his back as his partner's lack of royal blood makes him even less fit for the throne. Not to mention Leona himself is more than enough to protect Yuu, he's the only royal at the school without a proper retainer (which you could argue is because no one at home likes him) but I doubt his family would let him do that if he was genuinely in danger.

Rook- he's Rook. His family does sound rather sweet from the very very very little we know about him (he also seems like he was kind of sheltered as a kid, something I should chew on sometime) so I doubt they would allow anything too bad to happen to Yuu.

Vil- his main issue is his contract, the Japanese Idol industry is cut throat and often sees things like bans on relationships as part of the contract. Vil doesn't want to risk his career or reputation, he mentions that he himself is a brand and I can't see him wanting to put that pressure on Yuu if they're not up for it. But... there are also celebrities who have really private personal lives and I sort of get the sense Vil is like that? And I don't think he would be too bothered if Yuu didn't want to be super public, it would certainly make it easier to keep you safe.

Idia- S.T.Y.X. might be a gloomy place but no one knows where it is

Medium Danger (danger is real but can be managed)

Jade and Floyd- we don't actually know what their family does, just that it's probably sketchy and that Mama Leech calls them every day, taught them self defense, and just generally seems to worry about them a lot. The danger is very real under the sea, but I also sort of get the sense that messing with the Leech family is skipping the fuck around and going straight to find out.

Azul- his business is going to make him enemies sooner or later, but at least during school Yuu should be more or less safe. Azul's able to keep on top of the students who mean Yuu harm, and Yuu is able to politely ignore their boyfriend's business (or maybe they have a knack for helping?) When you get older I can see Azul's need for a security team expanding, but he'll have money to get the best.

Riddle- ok so. I don't think his mom would try to kill you. But god she would be such a toxic person to manage. I'm actually working on a (very old) request atm that involves discussing what Riddle's mom might do if she finds Riddle with a partner instead of his studies (which I assume she's paying for) especially during his internship. She'd go full scorched earth and get very confused when Yuu doesn't back off like Trey did.

Huston We Have a Problem

Kalim- the amount of assassination attempts my poor boy has already canonically endured... I imagine there are probably going to be more in his future. I can see Yuu needing their own retainer (which could be a fun concept for an oc) to protect them and test their food. When Grim becomes a great mage I'm sure he could help with that actually, wouldn't that be cute?!

MALLEUS- acceptance of humans is virtually non existence in Briar Valley AND his mother hated humans so much she "blessed" her child to only be loved by fae. We don't actually know how the senate works but I imagine they would lose their ever loving shit if Malleus brought home a human as a friend and now he wants to make them his spouse? No. They say no. Time to show them what an absolute monarchy means I guess.

Assuming Yuu isn't in a relationship with Malleus I could see their friendship actually sort of being a boon to them, especially if Yuu was with Kalim or Azul. Pissing of the merchants is one thing, but the King of the Abyss? No thank you, they'll just take their losses and go.

[frownyalfred]

The King Bruce/Batman and his kids as princes have been rotating in my brain all day!

You talked about how a lot of issues came from Bruce trying to play Prince at his kids when he should play King, and that he also doesn't realize that, and that he never will pick that up on his own, and his kids won't tell him either, and that got me thinking about who would, and how it would go down after.

I feel like if someone were to point it out it'd have to be either someone from the JL (or similar associates) or someone writing something about it in a paper or magazine. Then, when Bruce has it pointed out, there'd be the question of if he'd belive it, if he'd need it pointed out more, or just need to contemplate it a long time. Then what he'd do about it, if he'd then step into the role his kids have tried to give him time and again or if he'd fight against it.

I doubt all of the issues would be fixed if he took on the role of King instead of Prince, but it might at least relieve the pressure somewhat.

And like you said with Batman being King but Bruce being Prince because he hasn't presented a successor yet, that may add some difficulty, especially in how do you present a successor? All his kids are likely to take over at least something from him, so how could he choose? Does he just try and present all of them? Does it even have to be from the family? Also how does he do it? He can't just pull up at a gala and say "this is the next Prince" it'd likely have to be more subtle. If he does it at all.

He could do something where he calles his kids by nicknames leading back to it where he'd be overheard, starting slowly. Like calling Cass "Princess" and/or Damian "Little Prince". The others may have a harder time accepting such nicknames, especially right off the bat, and it would feel odd or out of character for an outsider before the groundwork has been laid, or if Bruce were to call Damian such, and then if one of the older boys reacted to it some way (scoff, laugh, etc) Bruce could say something like "you're also my little Prince" and get the ball rolling.

I think that last bit you mentioned about the successor is so key - Bruce Wayne hasn’t named a successor because how could he? There’s so many roles his children play for him, just as civilians. There is no clear successor. Meanwhile, Bruce was Prince because he had to be. He was the only person willing and able. He did it all, all at once, because he had to. His children don’t have that burden, but therefore they also lose out on the title. Bruce is Gotham’s Prince, their cherished son, but his children are an entire generation of royalty.

[canisalbus]

might be an odd question, but i have a theory after noticing trends amongst artists iv known in my life and SO FAR it's rung true so im expanding sample size

IDK if u know what aphantasia is already so I'm including reference [forgive me if uv already spoken abt this also]

Where would u say u fit on the scale?

For me I cannot see an apple, I know I am supposed to, or I will see concepts of it [like how the flesh is shiny and holds water droplets but i do not SEE it nor can i hold a clear visual of anything in my mind for that matter it is always flashing IDEAS like components of a visual, never the whole thing]

I'm asking because of people I've asked about this, there's a quality of their art that [i dont know how to put into words WHY] reminds me of each other, and I'm wondering if u will give me the same answer they have because I am a curious little bastard

I'm pretty sure I'm 1? I think I might have one of those brains that operate mostly on visuals. I don't need to close my eyes to see the image in my mind, it just sort of "opens in a different window" and I'm looking at reality and the mental image simultaneously.

It's never a flat picture, I see a 3D model of sorts, and I can rotate it around, cut it into pieces, look "through it" to see it from outside and inside at the same time, and arrange it to different poses if it's a character. Sometimes when I'm drawing something, I imagine what it would feel like to touch it and hold it in my hands, and that helps me to figure out how to convey a better sense of volume and tangibility.

I also think in images (or, like, gifs?) and I've never had an internal monologue. It surprised me when I heard that some people actually have a narrator in their heads, I can't imagine what it's like.

It's not always fun though, sometimes I get pretty nasty intrusive thoughts and they come in forms of vivid and very unpleasant mental images. Like visiting a relative's grave and being hit with a crisp picture of their decomposing body. Or getting those "I could walk in front of that car/ jump down from here" call of the void thoughts and instantly getting a brain illustration of it playing out from an onlooker's point of view and what the aftermath would look like. They're most distressing when it's bad things happening to someone I care about, for example I have a really persistent one about accidentally slamming a door on my cat and seeing him crushed and dying.

Oddly enough it doesn't extend to all visual thinking. My mind's eye and visual memory work well, but I also have severe face blindness and practically nonexistent ability to form mental spatial maps of my surroundings.

[rhilumi]

I desperately need timber as BBC sherlock and Watson (or sherlock and co with darcy like mariana) I need more tim who acts like sherlock either way.

Bernard gains the psychosomatic limp from the cult. Or maybe like a psychosomatic heartburn???? The near miss really messes him up even though robin was there to save him.

Tim doesn't actually have the insane deduction skills sherlock does but what he does have is a wealth of information and insane detective skills. Instead of working stuff out on the spot like sherlock does he makes it his business to know everything about everyone so it appears like he does. (Doesn't mean he doesn't still have a high level of deduction jts just not on par)

Anyway bernard is freshly out of the cult and kicked out of his house with nowhere to go and little to no money. He's sat on the edge of a rooftop. He's not going to do anything (so he tells himself) he just likes the wind. But either way nightwing is here now.

"I'm not going to do anything"

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"You just looked like you needed company."

Bernard doesn't respond.

"You got anywhere to go after this?"

"I'm 17"

"Same age as my brother."

Bernard silently grips onto his shirt.

"Listen, kid, I don't know you but I could probably get you a place to stay."

"I'm not the best roommate. "

"You're the second person who's said that to me today."

--

And that's how bernard ended up in Gotham marina with Timothy Drake (now Drake-Wayne) his former best friend who just ditched him when darla- laura- died.

"Long time no see"

"Mm. Listen we don't have to do this- my older brother is very annoying just thinks I shouldn't be living on my own."

"No- I need a place. And uh, no offense but doesn't the Wayne fortune mean you could afford something better than this"

"I like the challenge. And no offense but how did you end up in a cult- a pain cult of all things. Something tells me that it wasn't entirely curiosity or psychosis"

"Not something I want to talk about. Timmy."

"That heartburn is entirely psychosomatic by the way. Sorry for the personal question I needed to make sure and now I am."

"And how are you sure?"

"You started grasping at your chest when I started talking about the cult. Oh and I can tell your brain is working overdrive right now so answers:

1. My brother doesn't want me living alone because he thinks I have a tendency to run myself into the ground. I don't.

2. I can tell you were in a cult from the way you hold yourself, you're afraid of a very specific size and build of person, luckily not mine so if I have to have a roommate he's not afraid of me. Pain cult because of the myriad of deliberate self inflicted or otherwise scars. The psychosis was a shot in the dark based on what I previously knew of you but your reaction tells me I was correct.

And finally I'm acting so differently to how you knew me because I'm desperately trying to get you to dislike me so I can live on my own without someone watching over me."

"Fucking hell."

"Anyway! Want to go in?"

--

I keep rotating them in my head. Bernard with psychosis headcanon delightfully taken from @littlepikmins .

I may write more but that relies on motivation and I severely lack that.

This is also entirely self indulgent lol